Socrates and the Sentinel

by Thomas Fay

  ‘Hang on!’ John shouted.

  ‘Do I have a choice?’ Fernali shouted back.

  They held onto the guard rail at the top of the eastern side of the arch. The intensity of the storm atop the 134-metre-high bridge was such that if they let go they would have sailed out into the harbour and crashed into the rough seas below. From such a height the drop would have been fatal.

  ‘Can you move?’ John shouted. The wind and rain were like sandpaper on his face. He could barely see Fernali. The dense clouds and fog obscured much of the structure around them, creating a sense of disorientation compounded by the intermittent lights flickering on top of the bridge.

  ‘Not really. I can try.’

  ‘Head for the centre.’

  The two of them inched across the slippery walkways until they reached the centre of the arch where the two arms connected. Squatting, they huddled together. It reduced the intensity of the wind by a fraction. An aircraft warning light glowed red above them.

  ‘How do we get down?’ Fernali asked.

  ‘I don’t think we can make it by ourselves. We’ll need to wait until Socrates gets here. Or this storm passes.’

  ‘What about those transport ships?’

  The three ships continued to hold position two hundred metres above sea level. The glow of their quad engines was visible even through the rain and fog as the ships made continuous adjustments to maintain their altitude and relative position. Alara Green’s ship was closest to them.

  ‘Do you think they would actually shoot at her?’ Fernali asked.

  ‘No idea,’ John said. ‘Like she said, nothing like this has ever happened before.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’d hate to—oh my God!’

  The side panels on one of the other ships folded outward. Two torpedo-like devices extended from the inside. Their casings split in two, revealing sophisticated electrical cannons.

  ‘What the hell are those?’ Fernali asked.

  ‘No idea, but it doesn’t look good. Hang on!’

  The electrical cannons began to glow a deep azure colour as energy built within their cores. Alara Green’s ship’s engines ignited in response, propelling her ship upwards. The other ship tilted, tracking its target. The electrical cannons reached full charge. A high-pitched sound could be heard even above the savagery of the storm. Alara Green’s ship continued to accelerate upwards. The other ship was almost vertical in its attempt to track her. Suddenly it stopped tilting. Then it fired.

  Twin beams of pure azure energy erupted upwards at terrifying speed. One of them missed Alara Green’s ship completely. The other caught the edge of one of its stabiliser fins. It disintegrated instantly. The beam continued travelling upward unabated.

  ‘What in God’s name was that?’ Fernali asked. His eyes were open wide with fear.

  ‘I don’t know but we’ve got to get out of here. There’s no way her ship can survive a direct hit from those things. C’mon!’

  They slowly stood up. The wind and the rain intensified as they were completely exposed to the elements at the highest point of the bridge. John began to shuffle towards the western side. Fernali followed closely behind. Both of them hung on with all their strength. Reaching the other side, they looked down at the archway curving down to the road far below.

  ‘After you!’ John shouted.

  ‘No, thanks! You first!’ Fernali replied.

  John cast a quick glance to his left. Alara Green’s transport ship had dropped back down. It too had unfurled its hidden weapons. They glowed with an intense azure radiance as her ship attempted to line up on the other two. One of the other ships stopped and then accelerated to its right. The other stopped and shot upwards. Alara Green’s ship tracked the ship going upwards. Tilting backwards, it suddenly stopped. Then it fired. The twin beams lanced out. The right beam narrowly missed the other ship’s port side engines. The left beam did not.

  ‘Yes!’ John shouted. Fernali looked up. The ship’s engines exploded in a violent burst of energy. The ship held in the air for a split second, supported by the other two engines. Then the overflow containment failed and the entire ship exploded. Alara Green’s ship was buffeted by the explosion. It fought to stabilise itself. Normally it would have been able to regain control despite the blast and the storm. But it had lost one of its stabiliser fins.

  ‘No, no, no!’ John shouted.

  The ship careened towards the CBD in a wild arc. Its engines flared on and off as the pilots desperately attempted to stabilise it.

  ‘They’re going to crash!’ Fernali shouted.

  ‘No, wait. Look!’

  The engines flared brightly once more and the ship slowed and levelled out.

  ‘She made it. Thank—’

  The third transport ship opened fire. Twin azure beams lanced out. Both found their mark. Alara Green’s ship exploded with the intensity of a New Year’s Eve fireworks display.

  Forty-Nine

  The flaming remains of the Council transport ship fell out of the sky. Landing in the dark waters of the harbour, they sank below the churning waves. There were no survivors from either ship. No living organism could survive an explosion of such intensity.

  ‘John! We’ve got to go!’ Fernali shouted. He reached up and pulled John’s arm towards him.

  ‘I—’

  ‘I know. But we’ve got to go.’

  John managed to tear his eyes away from the patch of sky where Alara Green’s ship had exploded. The afterimage was burned into his retinas. He could still see the outline of the explosion clearly. Blinking, he looked around.

  ‘You’re right. We’ve got to get off the bridge before that remaining ship comes looking for us,’ John said.

  Bracing themselves against the continued onslaught of wind and rain, they made their way down the western arch. It was slippery and they kept losing their footing. Halfway down, a dark shape passed over them. They froze.

  ‘Keep going! They won’t be able to use the Raptors in this weather,’ John shouted.

  Half running, half sliding, they continued their descent. One of the pylons of the bridge loomed out of the wall of water ahead of them. They were getting close to the road.

  ‘We’re almost there!’ John shouted.

  ‘Where are they?’ Fernali asked.

  The transport ship was hovering about twenty metres above them. Four Council operatives leapt onto the bridge. The first two landed in the centre of the walkway on the western archway. The third landed behind them, skidding into the guard rail. The fourth landed awkwardly. He reached out and missed the guard rail. He was sent flying over it and onto the arch itself. The steel was so wet and slippery that he kept going. Landing hard on his back, he flew down the archway as if it were a water slide.

  ‘Look out!’ Fernali shouted.

  John and Fernali managed to swing out of the way as the doomed Council operative went flying past them. He hit the pylon at considerable speed, bounced off and disappeared over the side. The sound of his body hitting the road below was muffled by the storm.

  ‘One down!’ John shouted.

  They turned and continued their descent. The remaining Council operatives were close behind. John and Fernali dropped down into the maintenance walkway at road level. The surrounding fencing and metallic structure of the bridge provided shelter from the storm. It also stopped them from accessing the road.

  ‘Damn! It’s all fenced off. There’s no way we can get through,’ Fernali said.

  ‘We’ve got to keep going. Down the service corridor and onto the walkway below the bridge, all the way back to the pylon,’ John said.

  ‘It sounds like you’ve done this before?’

  ‘I chased a murder suspect through here once.’

  ‘How did that end?’

  John cast him a look.

  ‘Right. That good.’

  ‘Let’s just say if there was any other option right now I’d take it over going down there again.’

  �
�Lead the way, then.’

  They climbed down a narrow ladder to a metallic landing below the bridge’s roadway. The churning waters of the harbour were visible below their feet through the mesh flooring. Part of the road directly underneath the bridge was also visible, where the bridge’s pylons were embedded into the ground. It provided an unsettling feeling of vertigo.

  ‘Don’t look down,’ John said.

  ‘Thanks. Now you tell me.’

  The sound of heavy boots landing on metal resounded directly above them. The Council operatives were getting closer.

  ‘Go!’ Fernali shouted into John’s ear.

  They scurried through the enclosed service corridor. Ducking their heads under a bulkhead, they passed onto a narrow walkway directly underneath the bridge. Below them was a forty-five metre drop to the ground. In front of them the walkway stretched out to the granite pylons. It was a long walk. They made it about halfway before a commanding voice stopped them dead in their tracks.

  ‘Do not move!’

  Fifty

  Turning around, they faced the three Council operatives. They stood in single file, five metres away from them. They wore identical silver body armour and reinforced helmets with reflective visors. Their weapons were raised to a firing position.

  ‘We surrender!’ John called back.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Fernali whispered.

  ‘Let them lead us back to that service bulkhead. When we go under it, take them out.’

  ‘That’s your plan?’

  ‘Got a better one?’

  ‘No.’

  The Council operatives approached them. Taking their weapons, the operatives led them back towards the pylon. One walked in front, the other two behind. John signalled Fernali. The other Sentinel nodded his head. They reached the bulkhead. The first Council operative ducked beneath it.

  ‘Now!’ John shouted.

  He elbowed the operative directly behind him. The impact jarred his arm all the way up to his shoulder but the Council operative staggered backwards. John followed up with a powerful kick to his chest, dropping him to the wire mesh floor. He finished him off with a final blow to his reinforced helmet.

  Fernali was less successful with the second operative that had been behind them. While his initial blow sent the operative staggering backwards, Fernali snagged his jacket on the wire fence. The time it took him to free himself allowed the operative to recover. He swung his weapon in a wide arc. Fernali ducked and tackled him to the ground. They traded blows, neither landing a solid enough hit to end the struggle.

  John was about to help him when he felt a heavy blow to his back. He had forgotten about the third operative. Falling forward, he landed facedown on the mesh. The cold, wet steel pressed into his cheek. His back was on fire where the operative had struck him. He ignored the pain. Rolling to the side, he sprang up and lunged at the third operative.

  They crashed into the wire fencing next to the bulkhead. It strained beneath their combined weight. Designed as a safety measure for tourists climbing the bridge and for maintenance workers, it was not strong enough to support the weight of two grown men, one of whom wore body armour.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ John shouted.

  The Council operative didn’t reply. Instead, he struggled harder. John pressed down on him, trying to dislodge his weapon. The fence continued to bend backwards. Several of the clips holding it in place snapped. The fence sagged further.

  ‘Answer me!’

  The Council operative dropped his weapon. He brought both of his arms up, trying to force John backwards. The fence was now at a seventy-degree angle. The road beneath the bridge appeared close. It was almost as if it were rising up towards them. Another handful of clips failed under the weight. The fence was now at a sixty-degree angle.

  ‘John!’

  John cast a quick glance over his right shoulder. Fernali was pinned down beneath the other Council operative. It looked like he was losing the struggle. Momentarily distracted, John was sent staggering backwards into the bulkhead by a powerful blow to his ribs. The Council operative leapt forward, away from the sagging fence. He swung—once, twice. Both blows connected. John’s vision began to blur. He could taste blood in his mouth. Surprisingly, he felt no pain. Dark shapes swam before his eyes. He could almost see the transport ship carrying Alara Green exploding before his eyes—the glow of the engines, the twin azure beams.

  ‘No!’

  With a savage fury John grabbed the Council operative and swung him into the bulkhead. He heard a sickening crunch as the visor connected with the reinforced steel structure. The Council operative dropped to the wire mesh. He remained perfectly still.

  John took a shaky step forward. His legs seemed to have forgotten how to function. They slid out from under him. He landed hard on the mesh. The pain of his wounds returned with a vengeance. His head lolled to the side. His vision dimmed and faded. Just before he blacked out, he looked directly into the broken visor of the Council operative.

  What he saw he would never forget.

  Fifty-One

  John opened his eyes slowly. He was lying on a bed. Sunlight shone through the window, bathing everything in a golden hue. Lauren sat on a chair next to the bed. She leaned forward and caressed his forehead. John smiled.

  ‘We thought we’d lost you,’ she said.

  John raised himself up on his elbows. There was no pain. His wounds had healed.

  ‘I would never leave you,’ he said. ‘How long was I out?’

  ‘Not long.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  The sunlight seemed to dim slightly as a cold chill passed through John. He looked closely at Lauren. She looked different somehow. It was as if she were there and not there. He reached out with his hand.

  ‘Lauren?’

  His hand passed straight through her. A cold fear gripped him as memories of wet metal and a violent storm rose unbidden. He lurched forward.

  ‘Lauren!’

  ‘Take it easy,’ a female voice said. John collapsed back onto the bed. His back, ribs and face were throbbing with a dull pain. The sunlit room vanished to be replaced by the warm glow of LED down lights. In Lauren’s place sat Simone. Her green eyes were opened wide in concern.

  ‘Simone? What happened?’ John asked.

  ‘Socrates found you in one of the service walkways below the bridge. He got you and Fernali back to the car before the Council transport ship managed to deploy any more operatives. It was touch and go but we managed to lose them in the storm. You’ve been out all night and the better part of the day.’

  John took a deep breath. Memories of the destruction of the transport ships above the harbour and their frantic escape across the bridge resurfaced. He vividly recalled the fight with the Council operatives. Overpowering his assailant. Collapsing onto the metallic mesh. The last thing he saw before he blacked out.

  ‘Where am I?’ he asked, trying to erase the image of the fractured Council operative’s visor from his mind.

  ‘This is a safe house that Qallan Frost and I set up. The Council doesn’t know about it,’ Simone said.

  ‘Where’s Fernali?’

  ‘Right here.’

  Michael Fernali walked into the room. His sleeves were rolled up and his right arm was bandaged. He also had a gash above his right eye. Otherwise, he appeared unharmed. Socrates entered the room behind him.

  ‘You alright?’ John asked.

  ‘Nothing serious. They’re tough little bastards, those Council operatives. If Socrates hadn’t shown up when he did I might have been in much worse shape. Like you, for instance.’

  John laughed. It hurt. It also felt good. It dispelled the darkness of recent events, including the vision of what he had seen on the bridge.

  ‘Help me up,’ John said.

  ‘Are you sure? You took quite a beating back there.’

  ‘Just get me up.’

  With Fernali and Socrates supporting him,
John sat up. He took a few deep breaths. A couple of his ribs were bruised and his back would hurt for at least a week.

  ‘No more games, Simone. What the hell happened back there? I’ve never seen weapons like those carried by the transport ships. What kind of technology is that?’

  ‘Arc cannons. They’re an advanced plasma-based weapon developed by the Iona Corporation. All of our transport ships are equipped with them. To be honest, I’ve never seen one used before. There’s never been a need before. The fact that three ships engaged each other means that the situation has deteriorated exponentially. Jonathan Gage will stop at nothing to gain control of the Ruling Council.’

  ‘That display might work to our advantage. If people begin to question the Ruling Council, it will make it harder for Gage to maintain control.’

  Simone shook her head.

  ‘Sadly, the storm was so severe that no one reported the battle. Or Gage managed to erase any evidence of it. Either way, it’s as if it never happened.’

  John swung his legs over the side of the bed. Placing his feet on the floor, he slowly stood up. His head began to spin. He took a few more deep breaths. The room stopped spinning. He took a step forward.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Fernali asked.

  ‘There’s someone we need to go and see.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Then how are we going to find them?’

  ‘Socrates knows where they are,’ John said.

  ‘Who are you referring to, John?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘Professor Daniel Holstein. It’s time we shifted the odds a bit in our favour.’