Against Gravity

by Gary Gibson

  “Which would explain why you haven’t been in touch. If you had, you’d—”

  “I’d know. Sure. Erik said the same thing.” Kendrick rubbed at his face. “Fine, so you’re going to the Archimedes. How? And what are you going to do when you get there?”

  “The Bright is the collective term by which the AI nanite communities on board the Archimedes refer to themselves, right? The Bright found the Omega . . . and they also found us.”

  “Buddy, this is utterly crazy.”

  “Listen to me. If you didn’t see what the rest of us saw, then I’ll tell you what we were shown. The Bright have learned a lot from the Omega. The anomaly I mentioned is a wormhole that they’ve constructed, a gateway to the end of time.”

  Kendrick began to snigger. “Yeah? So what would they do with that?”

  “The Bright were designed to be curious. Every answer they could possibly desire is there at the end of time, in the Omega. So why not go straight to the source?”

  “This is too much, Buddy. I don’t know how to take it in. Do you know how ludicrous this sounds? A worm-hole? What kind of wormhole?”

  “There’s strong evidence that the Bright have figured out a way to access zero-point energy. You know what that is, right?”

  “Sure, it’s getting something out of nothing, energy out of empty space.” Physicists had long theorized that even within cold, empty vacuum vast unbounded energy resources existed on the quantum scale, powering the constant generation of short-lived virtual particles in a seething, invisible maelstrom of creation. Finding a way to tap directly into those resources was an objective that physicists had been hunting for decades.

  “Well, you’d need nearly infinite energy to keep a wormhole indefinitely open, in order to cause the kind of fluctuations that have been observed up there. It’s hardly surprising that Los Muertos are so concerned about preventing us getting to the Archimedes. If they could get their hands on energy resources like that they could hold the whole world to ransom – if they wanted. They don’t want any of us in the way.”

  A radiant smile spread across Buddy’s features, and Kendrick was reminded of a supplicant throwing down his crutches at the feet of a healing saint. “But Los Muertos we can deal with. What matters is that the Bright have invited us to go along with them. To them, we’re all the same: you, me and anyone else who survived Ward Seventeen.”

  Kendrick returned to Edinburgh and tried again to contact Caroline, without success. In the end he let himself into her flat a second time – and found it wrecked.

  Either someone had searched it messily or there’d been a struggle there. He sat in Caroline’s living room, with the moonlight streaming through her window-screen, painting pale stripes across broken furniture and a dent in one wall where it looked as though a body had impacted hard. He tried to remember that Caroline was the kind of woman who knew how to look after herself. For an hour or so Kendrick sat on her couch and stared numbly at the wreckage.

  In the end he called Buddy and told him what he’d found.

  “Shit.” Then a long-drawn-out silence. “I’m sorry, Kendrick. Do you need me there?”

  “No, I don’t know if that would make any difference. I’m going to ask some questions, see what I can find out.”

  “Look, I can get over there in a couple of hours—”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You’re going to look for her, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll let you know how it goes. So stay in touch.”

  “Yeah, sure. Be careful. Be very careful.”

  Kendrick broke the connection and stared around Caroline’s ruined apartment, lost in thought.

  Apart from himself, who would have known where Caroline lived? Only Malky, unless she had made new friends over the past year. An image of Malky’s dead eyes flashed through his thoughts.

  It was hard to accept what Buddy had told him about the Archimedes, but what he’d said about zero-point energy made some sense of both Draeger’s and Los Muertos’ actions. Zero-point energy was a prize with dangerously high stakes, and the Labrats were apparently caught right in the middle.

  And then there was Hardenbrooke, who was clearly playing his own extremely dangerous game, setting each party off against the other – and presumably being paid by both without the other realizing.

  Hardenbrooke? Kendrick stared into the distance, knowing that he had only one real option left. If there was even the slightest chance that the medic had been involved with or knew something about Caroline’s disappearance, Kendrick had to find him.

  22 October 2096

  Edinburgh

  “Some mess, eh, Kendrick?” McCowan’s ghost sat beside him in the rain.

  “Tell me I’m not crazy,” Kendrick replied. “Tell me if any of this is real.”

  “Don’t talk shite.”

  Kendrick had only gradually become aware of McCowan sitting beside him on the park bench. In Caroline’s flat he’d felt another wave of nausea wash through him so he had made his way outside, desperately wanting to breathe fresh air and find somewhere to wait until the feeling of disorientation passed. He’d stopped at a stretch of green running parallel to the road into Leith when the nausea had become particularly bad.

  “Then tell me something useful. Like how to find Caroline.” As Kendrick spoke, the world around them began to move very slowly, as if caught in some viscous liquid. A dog galloped across a street nearby in languid slow motion.

  “I can stretch out our subjective time together this way,” McCowan told him. “Gives us longer to talk. But I can’t help you with Caroline, Kendrick. I’m sorry.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Look, out of all the others who survived Ward Seventeen, you’re the only one I’m still in contact with. So, I don’t know anything about what’s happened to Caroline. You’ll have to find that out for yourself.”

  “But why are you only in contact with me?”

  “Look, the treatments you received from Hardenbrooke had the unexpected side effect of blocking the signal coming from Robert . . . coming from the Archimedes.”

  “What the hell?” Kendrick squinted at him. “Robert on the Archimedes?”

  “Shut up and bear with me. Hardenbrooke got your augments under control, and that had the added side effect of blocking Robert – mostly. So you only got snatches, little bits of what Buddy and the rest received. At the same time, Robert was blocking me, preventing me from communicating with you, or indeed with any other of the Ward Seventeen Labrats.”

  McCowan held up one finger. “Except Hardenbrooke’s treatments, by blocking Robert, somehow gave me the opportunity at least to reach you, if nobody else. It means that I can speak to you, but only you, for just seconds at a time.”

  “But why wouldn’t Robert want you contacting me?”

  McCowan looked at him sharply. “He’s insane – or don’t you remember what happened between the two of you? It’s hardly surprising that he bears you no goodwill.”

  “I haven’t seen Robert: no dreams, visitations, whatever it is the others got.”

  McCowan had a sad look on his face. “Ken, Ken,” he said with a sigh. “You have seen him, plenty of times. And as for where he is, well, part of him is down here, and part of him is up there on the Archimedes. You’ll be seeing more of him, once your augments learn to fully circumvent Hardenbrooke’s treatments. Robert is going to have less trouble getting through to you now, which means, in turn, that it’ll be harder for me to reach you.”

  A signal coming from the Archimedes? Knowing that made it easier, more real, more objective. “So why can’t you just – I don’t know – transmit yourself to the station or something, if that’s presumably how Robert got there?”

  McCowan made an exasperated sound. “I’ve tried and failed every time, thanks to that son of a bitch. I can’t get there on my own. And as long as Robert’s the only human mind directly interfacing with the Bright I can’t be that sure the wormhole to the Omega is ever goi
ng to open.”

  A spasm of pain shot through Kendrick’s skull and he grabbed his head, gasping at the suddenness of it. McCowan was right, though: it wasn’t as bad as previously.

  Not quite.

  “I don’t give a shit about Robert. What about Caroline, for Christ’s sake? What the hell about her?”

  “Find her if you can but, whatever you do, I need you to get to the Maze. If you can do that, I can give you all the answers you’ve been looking for. But you need to hurry.”

  “The Maze?” Kendrick screamed through a storm of agony. “Are you fucking insane?”

  Another intense flash of pain. Any lingering illusion of reality McCowan had possessed abruptly disappeared as his seated figure twisted into a sudden smear of colour before vanishing entirely.

  Kendrick moaned as the full weight of the seizure came upon him. He crumpled to the grass under his feet.

  The Maze? Why would McCowan want him there? And where exactly was he—

  —Unless, in some way, he was still down there. That revelation hit Kendrick like a ton of bricks.

  He looked back up and the city around him was gone.

  He pushed himself up onto his knees. That same tiny figure came buzzing towards him on azure wings, its passage through the long-stalked grass sending puffs of pollen floating into the air.

  “I know you,” Kendrick said, as the creature hovered quite close to him, only a metre or so away. In response, the tiny lips twisted up in a cruel smile. Laughter fell from its mouth, a tinkling half-crazed sound.

  “I know you!” it cried. “I know you! I know you!”

  McCowan had been right. On some deep level, Kendrick had known from the start but now he couldn’t avoid the truth any longer. The creature had Robert’s face. And it buzzed around him on silken wings, its laughter chiming in his ears.

  Then, as suddenly as he had left it, he was back in a damp park in Edinburgh, his fingers digging spasmodically into the hard turf beneath him.

  It didn’t take long for Draeger to show his hand.

  As Kendrick headed for home, turning down a quiet side street leading towards Leith Walk, he caught sight of an expensive-looking limousine driving towards him at speed. It braked hard and a door swung open in front of him even before it had come to a halt. Kendrick stepped back, alarmed.

  He’d barely registered the two men heading his way on the opposite side of the street. They stepped quickly towards him, pulling pistols from their jacket pockets and aiming them at his head. He glanced around and realized, to his chagrin, that there was no one else to be seen. They must have deliberately waited until they were sure there’d be no witnesses.

  Smeby stepped out from the limousine and studied Kendrick with an expression of mild amusement. Then he gestured to the two gunmen, who dragged Kendrick forward and bundled him into the rear of the vehicle.

  Another car slipped by and kept on going. Kendrick found his voice and yelled out, hoping to attract someone’s attention. His voice sounded dull and flat inside the limousine.

  Then he felt the muzzle of a gun pressed against his neck and he grew still.

  “These weapons are extremely quiet.” Smeby leant over from a front seat. “Nobody would hear it.”

  The gunmen sat on either side of Kendrick. “There’s no point in killing me,” he said.

  “I wasn’t talking about killing you,” Smeby replied. “I was talking about blowing your kneecaps off.”

  Kendrick tried not to show his fear. “You could have given me a call if you wanted to see me this badly.”

  “If we’d asked you to come to the Arlington to meet with us, would you really have come?”

  No, thought Kendrick, looking away.

  The limousine drove into an underground parking area beneath the hotel. Kendrick was dismayed to see that there was no one else around here either, no one to witness what was happening to him. The gunmen marched him to an elevator, keeping a firm grip on each of his shoulders. Their guns were pressed up against his head and neck respectively. Then they rode up in silence, along with Smeby, and a few moments later were back in the same suite as before.

  Kendrick wasn’t in the least surprised to see Max Draeger waiting there for him. Candice stood by the window, dressed in a dark wool trouser suit.

  “Mr Gallmon,” said Draeger. “I’m not going to waste any time before getting to the point. You’re here simply for your own protection.”

  Kendrick gaped at him. “What?”

  “Caroline Vincenzo has been snatched in order to persuade you to do as Los Muertos wish. I can’t allow that to happen.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Draeger nodded to Smeby. The two gunmen dragged Kendrick backwards, forcing him awkwardly into a seat, still aiming their pistol at him. Smeby stepped forward and punched Kendrick, hard, in the stomach.

  “Hardenbrooke – tell me about him. Everything you haven’t said already.”

  Kendrick sucked in air, swallowed and shook his head. “What happened to the friendly style of chat we had out there in the jungle?”

  Draeger stepped forward, his expression intense. “There isn’t the time for niceties any more. I could shoot you full of drugs that would have you telling me all I want to know, but I’d rather let you tell me for yourself. It’s your choice.”

  “For Christ’s sake, he hasn’t said anything to me.”

  Draeger shook his head. “I don’t think you understand the danger you’re in, Mr Gallmon. There are agents of Los Muertos already in this city, and I might be the only friend you have.”

  “I don’t find that likely.” Kendrick’s hands were clammy with sweat. A dull nausea throbbed in the pit of his stomach and in the back of his throat.

  Draeger stepped a little closer. “I thought you might have connections with Los Muertos.”

  Kendrick laughed, a harsh, nervous bark. “Are you fucking crazy?”

  “They don’t have your best interests at heart.”

  “And you do?”

  “Los Muertos merely want to kill you. They don’t offer you something in return for information.”

  “All right,” said Kendrick. “How about getting these two away from me?”

  Draeger cocked his head. “You’re telling me that you’re prepared to cooperate? Fully?”

  “Fully, yes.”

  Draeger studied Kendrick coolly for what felt like a long time. “If you’re lying, my employees are going to hurt you very, very badly. You won’t be in any condition to walk, let alone enjoy a space flight. I want you to remember that before we continue.”

  “I understand that. I just . . . I don’t want what the others want.”

  Kendrick knew that he could never bring himself to tell Draeger anything. But buying time was all he could think of. There has to be a way out of here.

  It was an effort to meet Draeger’s gaze, but after a few moments the other man’s attention shifted to the two gunmen. Kendrick heard them step away from him.

  “Wait downstairs,” Draeger told them.

  “Sir.” Smeby stepped forward, “I’m not sure—”

  “Do what you’re told, Marlin. My rules.”

  “Sir, I must seriously fucking protest—”

  Draeger snapped him a look, and Smeby shut up and stepped back. But Kendrick registered the cold anger in the ex-mercenary’s face.

  Kendrick was seated facing towards the windows, and the door was behind him. He took careful note of where everyone was positioned in the room. Draeger himself stood near the middle of the room; Candice and Smeby stood at almost opposite ends of it, facing towards him.

  He heard the door snick shut as the gunmen departed.

  “I went looking for Caroline,” Kendrick told Draeger, “and found that somebody had taken her out of her home by force. You’re saying that was Los Muertos?”

  Draeger nodded. “I suspect the only reason they have abducted her is to try and lure you into some idiot attempt at rescuing her.”

  “Look, I’ve
already seen one other Labrat die in the past couple of days, and do you know who I blame? You. None of this would be happening if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “Under the circumstances, the only reasonable precaution is to have you return to Angkor Wat with us and work with us there from a safe base of operations.”

  Kendrick nodded carefully and stood up. Smeby’s gaze followed him, but he did not move. “I guess that’s it, then,” Kendrick said. “You’re sure this is the best way?”

  “I’m glad you’ve decided to cooperate.” Draeger cast him an appraising look.

  “I was . . . I . . .” Kendrick bent over, gripping the side of his head and gritting his teeth. “Oh fuck, no,” he gasped.

  “What is it?” asked Draeger. Kendrick could hear the suspicion in his voice.

  “Seizure,” said Kendrick. “Help me. I can’t . . .” He sagged, his knees touching the floor, then let out a bellow of animal pain and covered his face with his hands.

  “Get him up,” he heard Draeger say.

  Kendrick glanced between his fingers to see Smeby approach, reaching towards Kendrick’s shoulder to yank him back upright.

  Through the windows, Kendrick briefly saw that the earlier rain had given way to harsh, bleak sunlight.

  He moved with unnatural speed, stabbing upwards with the fingers of one hand held rigid, aiming for Smeby’s throat. Smeby saw it coming but not soon enough. Kendrick caught him under the chin and the other man stumbled back against a coffee table.

  Smeby yelled in anger and pain as he hit the floor. A coffee urn that had been resting on the table toppled over onto the carpet. Kendrick moved quickly, aiming a vicious kick at Smeby’s head. Smeby gave a brief uk sound and lay still.

  Kendrick himself sprawled as something hard slammed into his back. As he hit the floor he rolled, knowing instantly that his attacker was Candice. She followed his movements, hammering at him with her fists. As she caught him on the jaw, his teeth clicked together and he tasted blood.

  He managed to block her next punch by slamming a foot into her stomach, but she twisted away and pulled herself upright with blinding speed. Augmented too.