‘Yes? Yes what?’
A sigh of exasperation. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh!’ She pushed at him.
Saul pulled. And proved he was stronger. The kiss lasted a long time.
They did Vegas, flying out that afternoon. Saul couldn’t believe that part of it. Nobody got married in Vegas, not really. But there they were, by themselves, trying not to laugh as they walked down the aisle of the Lord’s Passion chapel at eleven o’clock at night, Angela looking bad-girl stunning in a vamp’s wedding dress hired for an extra $87, taking the cost (including three-girl gospel-style choir) to $778 and 12 cents, plus the $500 state licence.
The honeymoon was two days spent in a high-roller suite in the new Battersea Hotel on the strip. Saul would really have liked it to be longer, but the machinery from Massachusetts Agrimech was now ready for delivery and shipment, as Angela told him several times. And as Noah’s increasingly frantic calls reminded him, the planting season was fast approaching. And if we don’t make that, chief, you’ve blown it beyond redemption.
So a reluctant Mr and Mrs Howard flew down to Miami, where they booked into a waterfront hotel for one night. Which was when they finally made the call to Saul’s startled parents, informing them they had a new daughter-in-law. The next morning saw the happy couple travel through the Shenandoah gateway to begin their fresh-start life on New Florida.
Thursday 21st March 2143
Vance Elston woke early, and pulled on one of his standard-issue grey-green HDA T-shirts. It was the same one he’d worn yesterday, and the creases showed that, as well as the whiff. But at that it was the cleanest he had. Laundry over the last few days hadn’t exactly been his top priority. He slathered the tamiopozine cream over his red itchy feet before his last fresh pair of socks went on. One invasion of honeyberry spore was enough. He hadn’t ever realized until he found his shins and calves covered in the sticky ejecta fluid one evening. Ever since, he’d worn full-length trousers and gaiters. Just like Angela always did.
He went out into the idiosyncratic light that now ruled St Libra’s atmosphere. Borealis cascades teemed across the sky, dripping fluidic globules down across the dark jungle. Just visible through them in the south, the ghost crescent of the rings glowed pallid silver, their influence waning before the interloper. Also deteriorating were the camp’s network links. The core cells and processor hubs were connected with fibre optics, which was immune to electromagnetic interference, but the standard body-mesh links were suffering from increasing dropouts and low bandwidth as the charged atmosphere vented its static plague in the form of blanket electromagnetic screams. As he looked about he could see thin strands of lightning crackling round the local mountain tops as insubstantial clouds scudded about.
‘Dear Lord grant us your blessing,’ he appealed in a troubled murmur. ‘For I have looked upon the Zanth, and seen the face of the devil.’ The astonishing lightshow was all a little too close to Zanth rifts for comfort.
Antrinell walked over, the lines on his round face emphasizing his dismay. ‘I hate this weather,’ he grunted. ‘I almost wish it would rain again.’
‘It’s about to get worse,’ Vance told him quietly. ‘I talked to Vermekia. The satellites they pushed into Sirius orbit confirmed the sunspots are affecting the entire star. And the things are still erupting. The oldest are about a hundred thousand klicks across now.’
‘Any Zanth activity?’
‘None.’
‘That’s something.’
‘I’ve accessed the worst-case scenarios the Situation Centre’s Sirius task force has put together. They’re talking about a big climate change.’
‘Climate change?’
‘Possible. Let’s just wait and see, shall we.’
Most of the camp personnel were now out of their tents, standing around, waiting for the dawn. It was getting lighter in the eastern sky, not that it diminished the cold borealis flames. Vance hated the mood of his people, to the point at which he felt responsible. The Daedalus explosion yesterday had spooked everyone as much as it shocked them. It made it very clear just how tenuous their connection to the rest of the trans-stellar worlds had become. Right now they were feeling hugely isolated and vulnerable, and there was nothing he could do to alleviate that sensation.
Talk died away as Sirius rose above the horizon.
‘Oh my Lord,’ Vance whispered, unable to help himself. The exclamation was thankfully lost amid the gasps from the rest of the watchers.
Sirius, the giant star that burned with nuclear blue-white intensity, was tinged a gentle salmon pink.
‘How many sunspots are there?’ an intimidated Antrinell asked.
‘Just under four hundred now,’ Vance told him. ‘There’s no astrophysical theory which can explain it. The event is completely unprecedented.’
‘It’s not coincidence. It can’t be.’
‘I agree. But I’m beginning to believe this is beyond mortal understanding.’
While the rest of the camp lined up for breakfast, Vance walked over to his office in the Qwik-Kabin and sealed the door. The e-Rays were suffering badly from the particle assault on the upper atmosphere. Although designed to function through the irradiative carnage of a Zanthswarm, they were susceptible to degradation from the barrage of lightning strikes. Their operational altitude left them particularly exposed. Systems decay was becoming a real concern for the AAV teams operating them as components suffered from surge burn-out.
However, there was still sufficient bandwidth for a secure link between Abellia and Wukang.
‘Good morning, Colonel,’ Commissioner Passam said as soon as the link was established.
‘Ma’am. We’ve just had sunrise. Sirius has redshifted.’
‘Yes, I’ve been accessing the images directly from the satellite cluster. It’s most unsettling. Solar infall on St Libra is fifty per cent down on a week ago.’
‘I see. I didn’t know that. Have you confirmed what caused the Daedalus explosion yet?’
‘Yes. It was definitely sabotage, though that’s not what we’re telling the media: as far as they’re concerned it was a maintenance issue. We’ve established a binary compound explosive was placed in the central undercarriage well. They tell me that was a good place, it immediately ruined structural integrity as well as ripping open the bioil tanks.’
‘Oh Lord.’
‘Yes. And we were warned, which is the oddest part of this. Someone called us from an untraceable transnet address. They claimed it was Zebediah North’s followers.’
‘What does Zebediah North say?’
‘Nothing. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody can find him.’
‘I see. What now?’
‘Whoever warned us claimed he was in Abellia. Resources will be increased and targeted accordingly. We have to locate him.’
‘Good. So what will happen with the Daedalus fleet and our supply flights?’
‘Ah. Obviously we’ve grounded all flights until each remaining Daedalus can be thoroughly inspected. Two of them are here at Abellia, which we believe makes them more susceptible to sabotage. As of now, no civilian crews will be allowed access to any expedition vehicle. HDA crew will be conducting the inspections. Colonel, that instruction also covers all helicopters at Wukang. You have to get your flight engineers to clear them before they’re flown again. That includes a complete software reboot as well – we just can’t take any chances. There’s no way of knowing what Zebediah’s followers have prepared for a follow-up. Software bugs could have been downloaded months ago.’
‘Right. Okay, that makes sense. So when will the replacement tanker get here?’
‘There is no schedule on that as yet.’
‘What? We can’t function without a tanker. I always thought it was stupid, only having one.’
‘Once the HDA appraisal of a potential Zanthswarm is over, then a replacement tanker will be considered. Until then we’ll have to make do with the standard Daeda
lus. I’m told they can be reconfigured to carry additional tanks, so the loss isn’t critical.’
‘I see.’ Listening to her talk her politician talk, Vance began to worry about how she could use the situation to cover herself at the expense of the mission goal. ‘What about my Legionnaire reinforcements, what’s their ETA now?’
‘I’m sorry Colonel, but the GE has closed the St Libra gateway to all traffic. The Legionnaires never came through.’
‘They can’t close it to HDA personnel. Those troops had already been deployed.’
‘They have been temporarily reassigned to the GE Border Guard. There’s some concern that Highcastle’s population might overrun Newcastle if they surge through the gateway. Obviously, allowing them through would have to be subject to negotiation. If it is allowed, it will have to be with our consent and under our conditions.’
‘All well and good, but what about us? This is leaving us badly exposed out here.’
‘One of the reasons for this call is for me to formally issue an operational reduction notice. You’re to suspend all non-core activities at Wukang. Resupply will be a problem in the immediate future. We’re considering a partial evacuation, shutting down the three forward bases and reducing Edzell and Sarvar to skeleton crews until the situation improves.’
For once, even Vance found it difficult to stay calm. ‘We’ve found an alien of unknown type and origin, exactly what the expedition exists for, and you’re contemplating a shutdown?’
‘It’s not a shutdown, Colonel, this would be a tactically driven option. You must understand, circumstances have changed. And there is no concrete proof of an alien.’
‘Esther Coombs had her heart ripped out by a nonhuman claw.’
‘Or Angela Tramelo’s accomplice is using their perverted power amp suit again. We just don’t know yet.’
‘And is there a theory on how he smuggled himself and a power amp suit on board a Daedalus?’
‘Presumably the same way it was smuggled into Bartram’s mansion twenty years ago – with Tramelo’s help.’
Vance paused for a moment to keep his anger under control. ‘Then let me find out. Give me my Legionnaires.’
‘That simply isn’t practical any more. I’m sorry, Colonel. We’re going to have to wait until the sunspot situation is resolved. Until then we’ll just have to struggle on as best we can.’
‘I see. Thank you, Commissioner.’ Vance ended the call, and immediately placed another one to Vermekia.
‘I thought I’d be hearing from you,’ Vermekia said.
‘You have to get her idiot decisions reversed. The aliens are here. I can confirm their existence. Think what that means. Vermekia, we’re this close.’
‘You’ve got crazies blowing up planes. There’s something seriously weird happening to Sirius itself. And I’m not even taking into account a potential Zanthswarm. We have to prioritize, Vance. I’m sorry.’
‘Pushing those satellites through a war gateway has cost a couple of billion at least. All I need is a new tanker Daedalus for a week, and a hundred Legionnaires. What does that cost by comparison?’
‘I know, okay? This is as frustrating for me as it is for you. I promise as soon as we understand what’s going on with the sunspots then I’ll push for the resources you need. But, Vance, I’ve got to tell you, it’s not looking good for the Newcastle investigation.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘I’m assuming Scrupsis has leaked this to Passam, which is why she’s running for cover. The results from Ernie Reinert’s interrogation have come through. I know General Shaikh himself accessed them last night.’
‘What did Reinert say?’
‘Disappointingly little. Basically, some unknown controller told him to go to an apartment and clean up a mess that someone else left behind. Opinion here is hardening around this being some North on North fight.’
‘And Esther Coombs?’
‘I don’t know, Vance, I’m sorry. Look, with all the scientific effort focused on the Sirius sunspots right now they’re going to have an answer soon. When they do, I’ll get you your extra Legionnaires. Until then, have your helicopters checked out and keep a strong perimeter guard.’
After the call ended, Vance stared round the tiny office. For the first time since he’d heard about the Newcastle murder, he began to worry. He was used to being in charge of missions, but this time there were too many politicians involved, and they were screwing up badly. ‘Dear Lord, protect me from their stupidity.’
*
For an age Sid had craved a particular quiet breakfast, the envisaged scene playing out in his mind like some kind of well-to-do ideal twentieth-century family, where the children sat up straight at the table without speaking and deferred politely to their parents. A standard breakfast at the Hurst house was normally noisy thanks to William and Zara fighting and bitching about the food; rushed because the family default mode was everyone running late; bad-tempered because he was tired and thinking of work.
But today his wish had been granted. It hadn’t been nice at all. Both children sat and ate in silence as they watched the news. The panes on the wall in the new kitchen had been showing TyneOne news, which took a perverse delight in the catalogue of depressing images it showed. Kingsway full of paramilitary-armoured GE Border Directorate troops, backed up by HDA Legionnaires, not letting anyone through. Furious Last Mile independent store owners, threatening to sue the GE to reopen the gateway and compensate them for loss of earnings. Outside Last Mile, crowds of fractious would-be refugees and farmstead settlers expanded by the hour. Local police and agency constables containing them. Thunderthorns at the big HDA base in Toulouse taking off to exercise. Northumberland Interstellar media officers issuing reassurances that the flow of bioil was unaffected. A mocking contrast to images from the other side of the gateway, revealing even bigger crowds building up along Motorway A, with a tailback of stationary cars, vans, and trucks over twelve miles long. More unnerving was the light which exposed them. Sirius shone red in the sky, surrounded by massive swirls of undulating borealis iridescence. St Libra was a truly alien world now.
Sid arrived at Market Street at eight o’clock thanks to sparse morning traffic. The universal code blue was still in force, but he was pretty sure the building was understaffed as he made his way to Office3.
Tilly Lewis was waiting for him as he came in.
‘I don’t have a scene for you yet,’ he told her as he settled in behind his desk. ‘We’re expecting our information to arrive sometime this morning.’
‘That’s okay, pet,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Gives you time to certify this.’
A file icon appeared in his grid. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s a legal statement.’
‘Aye, what have I done wrong now?’ he exclaimed.
‘Not you. It’s an insurance thing for the firebombing. Northern Forensics needs to have the senior case officer’s confirmation that NorthernMetroServices were officially assigned security and protection on Ernie’s garage at the time of the attack.’
‘Oh right. Okay, I can certify that. Leave it with me.’
‘Thanks. Reinert’s insurance have already put their claim in. The place was gutted, what’s left is going to have to be demolished; all the workshop equipment has gone, and there were some cars inside, too. It all adds up, especially when you include the medical bills for me and my team. And Northern Forensics certainly aren’t paying for it.’
‘I understand. Are you okay now?’
She grinned and fluffed out her thick wavy hair. ‘Sure. How about you?’
‘The kids were watching the news this morning. It frightened them.’
‘I know how they feel. The unlicensed sites are saying all HDA troops barracked in GE are on standby. Do you know anything?’
‘As much as you do. O’Rouke is spending his whole time with the emergency planning committee. If there is a Zanthswarm, Newcastle is going to be overrun by Highcastle refugees. That’
s why we kept the kids out of school today. Jacinta’s staying home with them.’
‘Ours went in, but Nathaniel is only two minutes away if it hits the fan. Benefits of working at home.’
‘I don’t get how HDA can’t know,’ Sid admitted. ‘They’ve sent dozens of satellites through to look at Sirius. I thought we could always spot the way the Zanth buggers up spacetime.’
‘We can. But sunspots aren’t a Zanthswarm.’
‘Aye, I suppose. This case has been nothing but strange since it began.’
‘Your case?’ Tilly asked. ‘How is a carjacking tied in with Sirius sunspots?’
‘Don’t ask, okay. That was a slip of the tongue.’
‘Ask what?’ She grinned. ‘My team are in the canteen downstairs, waiting for you to give us the scene. I’ll join them.’
‘Thanks, Tilly. I’ll call you soon.’
After she left, Sid spun the legal statement file round, twisting to open. A simple data sheet expanded over his grid. He glanced at the final claim figure, and whistled at the impressive size. It would have to be sent to legal along with last Thursday’s case logs to confirm the garage handover had been correctly authorized, but he was confident no one could query it. He was instructing his e-i when he caught an item on the garage contents list. ‘Well crap on that,’ he muttered in excitement.
There was no visual record in the file Tilly gave him. But as he was being asked to certify the statement he’d be perfectly justified in checking details himself.
Sid called up visual logs from the arrest, and the zone console screen curved round his head. He immersed himself in the iris smartcell recordings from various officers and constables, watching through their eyes as they charged into the garage. Jerky images showed him a chase after one of the garage workers. Officers with pistols held in two-handed grips checked various rooms for anyone hiding. He even caught sight of himself a couple of times. Where did that gut come from? After a while he closed the logs and leant back out of the zone. He smiled contentedly, far happier than the day gave him any right to be.
Ian burst into Sid’s office at eight thirty. ‘He’s here!’
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