Eva

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Eva Page 26

by Simon Winstanley


  A clatter of glass and a burst of elated voices came from the direction of the opposite shore and he turned to see that a small group were playing an improvised bowling game; using a bundle of knotted clothing to knock down bottles. From somewhere behind him, he heard Alfred’s knowledgeable, braying tones and the appreciative laughter of the people around him.

  Cassidy suddenly arrived at his side.

  “I thought it would be a good idea to join you,” she said, looking back towards Marshall who was still sitting at the shoreline.

  “What, right now?” Scott replied.

  “Yeah,” she said, just as Alfred emerged from his small group of well-wishers.

  “Enjoying the evening, Scott?” Alfred smiled.

  “Absolutely, Sir,” he replied, but noticed that Alfred’s attention had already been hijacked by Cassidy’s beachwear.

  “And, Cassidy, I do hope that you like it?” Alfred now appeared to be forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

  It was only momentary, but she appeared to hesitate before replying.

  “Yes, of course, it’s all…” she glanced towards Marshall, “… it’s all wonderful. Everyone’s having such a great time. Congratulations!”

  “Scott, my apologies, but please would you mind asking the bar to refill my drink?” Alfred held out his empty glass.

  Scott realised he was being dismissed; Alfred obviously wanted to be alone with her. Even his usual bodyguard was absent.

  “Of course, Sir,” he took the glass and walked away.

  On his way to get the refill, he took a detour through the gathering to see Roy and Gail.

  “Scott!” Roy cheerfully beckoned him over, “Did you speak to Marshall?”

  “Just before the party started…” Scott turned away to locate him but spotted that he was no longer sitting by the shore.

  “Oh, shit!” Gail suddenly stood, sending her chair toppling to the ground.

  Scott whipped around to see that Marshall was converging on Alfred and Cassidy.

  “It’s…” she grabbed at Roy’s arm, “Get over there!”

  Roy wrenched the table aside and joined Scott in pushing their way through the crowd. As the effects of their disturbance began to be noticed, the music suddenly stopped and the general level of chatter died. As Scott neared them, the only sound was Marshall’s slurred voice.

  “… or is it just every chance you get?”

  “You’re drunk,” Cassidy spoke in a calm, low tone, “Just sleep it off and -”

  “Oh, you’d know all about ‘sleeping it off’, wouldn’t you?” he announced loudly, looking her up and down.

  Cassidy jerked her glass in his direction, sending the entire drink into his face. He reacted by slapping her across the cheek, sending her tumbling backwards into Alfred who caught her, mid-fall.

  Arriving seconds too late, Alfred’s CPO bodyguard pushed his way through the crowd. Scott wanted to jump to Marshall’s aid and stop what was about to happen, but he felt Roy grab hold of his arm. He knew he couldn’t intervene and was forced to watch as the president’s bodyguard delivered a swift kick to the back of Marshall’s legs.

  As Marshall fell, the guard followed up with an elbow strike to the back of his neck, sending him collapsing onto his hands and knees. One hand clasped around his Biomag, Marshall raised his other arm to protect himself but the guard simply took hold of it, twisted it backwards and punched him squarely in the face. As Marshall hit the ground, a thick burst of red sprayed from his nose and he gasped for breath. The guard began repeatedly burying his boot in Marshall’s gut and was just about to deliver another kick when Marshall grabbed hold of his leg. Adapting quickly, the guard simply dropped with all his weight onto the outstretched hand. A muted snap brought Marshall’s defence to an end and the guard began work pummelling at his pain-tortured face; every punch widening the bloody mess on the sand-coloured floor.

  “Please!” Cassidy’s voice implored from somewhere nearby.

  The Node’s reporters, there to record the grand opening event, stood mute; their camera lenses pointed firmly at the floor. Marshall absorbed more punches, but didn’t seem capable of reacting anymore. The CPO then reached for his baton.

  “Enough,” said Alfred.

  The CPO stopped and Marshall lay still and bleeding in the utter silence of Beta Beach.

  Scott looked over to see that Alfred now had his arm around Cassidy’s waist, his thumb resting on the bikini’s thin cord. As a few other CPOs began to arrive on the scene, Alfred spoke quietly.

  “Take him to holding.”

  The officers gathered around Marshall, dragged him to his feet and removed his Biomag. Scott had seen this procedure before; prisoners were less likely to make trouble if they were dependent on those around them to provide Field anchoring. But he knew that Marshall was in no state to make trouble.

  “My apologies for this individual’s behaviour,” Alfred addressed everyone, “Now, please, it’s supposed to be a fun night, enjoy yourselves!”

  As hesitant-sounding conversations began to return, Alfred guided Cassidy away.

  The music resumed, albeit at a much lower volume, and Scott turned to face Roy.

  “I’ll check that he’s alright,” he said, then followed the officers who were dragging the unconscious Marshall away.

  CAPSULE

  21st December 2112

  Apparently not noticing its massive weight, Ryan Flitch carried the retrieved capsule across the upper deck of the Sea-Bass docking room.

  “Where should I set it down?”

  “Just over there,” said Lucy, trying to focus on what he was carrying, rather than the girth of his biceps, “lay it down on the bench.”

  Noah cleared space on the maintenance bench while Mat and Pavna diverted power and ran cables.

  “I’m using Pod One’s regulator,” Pavna called out.

  “Check,” Mat called up to her through the mesh flooring, “Bypassing now.”

  A metallic-sounding relay activated, sending a high-pitched echo around the deck.

  Lawrence and Sabine carried Fai’s inert drone slowly across the metal floor. Whilst he focussed on manoeuvring the drone through the awkward space, she continued to assess it warily, making every effort to keep her distance from the protruding metal rod.

  “Thanks,” Pavna guided them over to the other end of the bench, “Let’s put it next to the… capsule.”

  Mike, Cathy and Anna made their way across the deck, their exo-limbs whirring quietly as they covered the distance.

  “So,” said Anna, “What have we got?”

  The small solar panel on the capsule’s casing was encrusted with debris and behind its cracked glass, seawater was clearly visible.

  “Hopefully it’s not just a paperweight,” Mat reached the top of the ladder and arrived at the bench, “Power’s good to go.”

  Lawrence connected the power cable to the drone’s recharging socket causing the rotor blades to momentarily twitch. Muttering a few choice French words under her breath, Sabine took a small step back and folded her arms.

  “Fai, can you hear me?” Anna spoke to the drone.

  The drone remained quiet, despite a few more attempts to initiate contact.

  “The docking room is pretty much a Faraday cage,” said Mat, “The drone’s RF transceiver can’t penetrate it. Lucy, any chance you can relay the radio frequencies through the Sea-Bass external antenna instead?”

  While Lucy and Lawrence got to work dismantling the drone’s side panel, Mat looked for a way to open the recovered capsule. He’d just pulled a small panel open when Fai’s voice emerged from the nearby drone.

  “This is Fai. Discovery external antenna relay check.”

  “We receive you Fai,” said Anna.

  “I am receiving audio, but the drone’s camera is impaired.”

  Sabine walked to the bench, retrieved her scarf from around the camera’s lens then returned to her place, as ever keeping a wary eye on the drone.
r />   “Thank you, Sabine, I can now see the capsule,” the camera swivelled slightly towards the opposite end of the bench, “The capsule’s solar panel is damaged and I detect no active wireless communication protocol. Any internal power cells must have become depleted over time.”

  Mat pointed to the small panel he’d just opened.

  “We might not know how long this thing was on the seabed, but we can guess it’s pre-Siva. There’s a USB slot.”

  Lawrence held out Ross Crandall’s USB smartphone cable, “This any use?”

  After a few more minutes of stripping wires and soldering, the drone and capsule were finally connected. Those gathered around Fai’s drone were from a wide spread of times and locations so, to give context to the information she was about to relay, she recapped some key events.

  “Following the life-support failure aboard the ISS, it was necessary for us to leave orbit to avoid the arrival of Siva.”

  “Still seems odd to hear you talking about Siva in the past,” Ross shook his head.

  “Before the ISS departure,” Fai continued, “I deployed an orbital recording buoy to gather data during the Siva impact. When we returned to Earth, I attempted to make contact with it. When it failed to respond, I determined that it was either damaged or no longer in Earth orbit.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Mike, pointing at the capsule, “You’re saying this is your recording buoy?”

  “Yes. I have verified that the computational architecture has remained unchanged for the past 97 years, 9 months, 2 days. However the internal memory is now full.”

  The stunned silence lasted only a second.

  “Can you summarise the contents?” asked Anna.

  “Yes,” she replied, “There are three plain text words listed in the main directory structure and an accompanying set of three encrypted data packages.”

  “Encrypted?” Lawrence leaned forward enthusiastically, “Can you open them?”

  “I have already decrypted the packages,” Fai replied, “The data and audiovisual rec-”

  “Wait!” Cathy interrupted, “Ignore the data for a second… The words, Fai. What are the three words?”

  For a moment the air seemed to become quiet, then Fai replied:

  “Eridanus. Vega. Andromeda.”

  Cathy laughed and slapped the bench.

  Mike simply shook his head in disbelief, “E.V.A.”

  Janine seemed to exchange concerned glances with Karl, Lawrence and Ross.

  “We’ve all been seeing that acronym,” she said, “It kept showing up.”

  “The specific use of an ‘E.V.A.’ acronym appears only once within the data,” said Fai, “in the directory entitled ‘Eridanus’. It is the only directory to include details of the lunar cylinder we discovered in orbit.”

  “Wait,” said Anna, “our cylinder appears in the capsule’s data?”

  “Yes.”

  They looked at the capsule’s time-rusted surface and cracked solar panel.

  “This thing’s been down there for ages,” said Mat.

  “Maybe the cylinder’s been up there for ages too,” said Cathy, now grinning, “We have to light-pulse this info to Lana!”

  “We have not yet begun constructing the Trans-Field message system,” Fai replied factually.

  “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” said Mike, “We don’t know if the capsule’s hardware is intact. The first thing we should do is download its data.”

  “You’re right,” said Anna, “Fai, can you make a copy of the capsule’s data?”

  “No. There is insufficient storage space on this drone.”

  “This information is too important to lose,” Anna frowned, “We’ll need a way to archive it safely. This and everything else we discover from now on.”

  RABBIT HOLE

  13th April 2014

  Bradley paced around the circumference of the Eye at the USV’s summit. The sooner the repairs were complete, he thought, the better. At present, the high definition security cameras peering down through the broken glass were still inert. Once they were operational, he’d be able to keep a much closer watch on everything.

  He unclipped the lucky rabbit’s foot keyring from his belt and laid the bunch of keys on a work surface. The single-shot pistol he carried was great for concealability but lousy when it came to reloading. He unscrewed the hollow keyring and tipped a replacement bullet out of the hole. He knew he was alone at the summit of the USV, but it always paid to be prepared.

  He reloaded the pistol and returned the keyring to his belt; should there be any trouble he’d have a last resort to draw upon.

  “Mr. Pittman, Sir,” came the voice from his two-way radio.

  “Go ahead,” he replied.

  “I’m with Sarah, she’s fine.”

  “Good work, Vic, put her on.”

  There was a short pause then his daughter spoke.

  “Hey Dad.”

  “Hey, Pumpkin-pie, you OK?”

  “Yep, Vic’s standing guard. If anyone shows up, he’ll take care of them.”

  Bradley strolled around the circumference of the Eye’s broken glass window and looked down at the USV. Some sectors were still blacked out.

  “You any closer to finishing up?” he said.

  “Almost. Listen, can you do me a favour?”

  “Sure honey.”

  “I’m working by lantern light,” she said, “Any chance you can cycle a fuse board for me?”

  “From up here?”

  “We’re on the same lighting circuit as the Eye, there should be a main breaker next to the drone monitoring station.”

  “OK, hang on.”

  He walked past the bucket-lift and around to the monitoring station. Again, he saw that of the sixteen drone video feeds, only one was still active; a buffered freeze-frame of the perpetrator who was still at large.

  Next to the station was a wall-mounted grey box with electrical symbols on it. Turning a black plastic handle on the front, he opened it up and saw an array of trip switches.

  “OK, I found it,” he told her.

  “Wow, that was fast!” she replied.

  Again his daughter’s words of approval gave him a warm glow, “What can I say, Sal, I’m a quick study.”

  “OK, so you’ll need to find the trip switch labelled, iso zero slash one.”

  “I think I see it,” he said, “It’s the brown one, right?”

  “Yep,” she said, “You need to turn it off, wait for a second, then turn it back on.”

  “You want me to do it now?”

  “Go for it,” she said.

  He flipped the switch and instantly the Eye fell into darkness. As instructed, he waited for a second then flipped it back again.

  The lights didn’t come back on.

  The drone monitoring station was similarly inactive, as was every other piece of equipment around him. He toggled the switch back and forth several times but it was no use.

  “Hey, Sal,” he spoke into the radio, “Everything just shut off up here.”

  The only thing he could hear was the continuing faint sound of the USV repairs from far below.

  “Sal?” he tried again.

  The radio erupted with static. After clicking through several other channels, he found they were all doing the same thing. He turned off the radio and picked up the nearest phone handset. Before he could even dial the number for the Glaucus offices, he realised that the line was dead.

  Dropping the handset, he ran around the Eye’s circumference towards the bucket-lift entrance. The bucket-lift was gone, taken earlier by Gordon Dowerty when he’d run away.

  He punched at the ‘call’ button, but there were no electrical noises in response. He had no way down. He just had to hope that someone would find him.

  •

  Using the keys that Sarah had tossed to him, Vic opened the padlock on the Samphire construction site and let himself in. The old Eurotunnel intersection station lay before him. The longest wall stil
l had the three-foot high, stencilled ‘USV3’ lettering; old worn paintwork proclaiming it as Archive’s third Underground Survival Village.

  He remembered getting here with Sarah. A few hours later her father had arrived. A large doorway had opened in the side wall and the last Eurotunnel train carriage had slid sideways into this space. Immediately after that, the USV had been sealed. The only clue that it had happened was a large inflatable seal marking out a carriage-sized rectangle in the USV side wall.

  The carriage was no longer here and he could see that there had been other changes. The narrow access doorway next to the rectangular seal was now contained within a large box construction.

  “Vic, come in,” came Sarah’s voice over the secured radio channel.

  “I’m here,” he replied and made his way across the old railway tracks embedded in the floor.

  “Everything OK?”

  “Loads of people are stressed out by the walkway an’ flood… me too to be honest, but at least nobody’s hurt. I don’t think we should put it off too much longer or word’ll get back to your dad.”

  “OK. Are you at Samphire yet?”

  “Yeah, I’m inside.”

  “Can you see the crate?”

  “I think so,” he moved towards the far end of the disused station, “Yeah, I see it… I’m glad I brought the buggy.”

  “OK, let’s do this,” she said, “Switch to the shared channel.”

  “Good luck.”

  “You too.”

  He switched channel and took a deep breath.

  “Mr. Pittman, Sir,” he spoke into the radio.

  “Go ahead,” Bradley replied.

  “I’m with Sarah,” he lied, “she’s fine.”

  “Good work, Vic, put her on.”

  Muting his radio, he simply let her continue the rest of the conversation. While she persuaded her father to cut the Eye’s own power, he loaded a dusty crate onto a trolley and wheeled it to the exit.

  As he was padlocking the door he saw the lights go out at the Eye. Shortly after that, his radio crackled with static. Switching back to their secure channel, he loaded up the buggy and drove off towards the elevator.

 

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