by Dana Fredsti
“That does sound exciting!” Nellie nodded, looking a bit awestruck at the concept. Before Amber could access the desired file, however, Harcourt stormed into the room from the central corridor and flung himself into a chair.
“Hissing hellfire,” he exclaimed petulantly. “It’s utterly intolerable!”
Nellie scowled. “Whatever are you huffing and puffing about, man?”
“Completely insufferable,” he grumbled. “The incompetence of this vessel’s food service is thoroughly beyond the pale. It can’t even manage the most rudimentary formula for galvanic nerve tonic!”
Rolling her eyes at Amber, Nellie shot back, “Oh, was the recipe for your snake oil lost to future generations? Such a shame. Why don’t you just ask it for some brandy?”
“I suppose I could, but it would be lacking in essential nutrients and beneficial qualities that the galvanization process alone imparts.” He sniffed in dissatisfaction. “Still, I suppose it would be better than nothing. You there, vessel!” he called out imperiously, looking up at the ceiling. “Is a snifter of cognac within your limited scope?” A small table formed beside him, with a glass of earthy brown liquid sitting on it. He took a sip and beamed with approval. “Ah, splendid! Ne’er you mind, sweet automaton. I shan’t doubt you again.”
“Far from us to keep you from your medical regimen, Professor,” Nellie said, “but you’re interrupting a history lesson.” Amber nudged her in the ribs, but it was too late—Harcourt’s interest had been piqued.
“How’s that—a futurological retrospective?” He stood and approached them. “That’s smashing! Let’s have a look!”
Sorry, Nellie mouthed as he squeezed in between them with his cognac and glommed onto the viewscreen.
“Here now! Can we see the current extent of the British Empire? I daresay by the twenty-third century, it must control four-fifths of the world—and surely its locomotive lines and air-dirigible routes must span the globe. Has mankind re-located the lost ancient routes leading down into the hollow Earth? Has it been colonized?”
Amber was at a loss for words. Where did she even begin? Their research derailed, she decided not to even try, and stood up, ceding control of the viewscreen.
Merlin and Blake will be back soon, anyway.
* * *
“Ship,” she said quietly, “can you bring up the timer for me?” The Ship obligingly projected a floating holographic digital timer showing her how long the two men had been gone. Only forty minutes remained until the three-hour mark.
Not much time at all, Amber thought, fear gnawing at her stomach.
Back at the table, Harcourt was grumbling. He and Nellie had decided to look themselves up, and while there was a plethora of historical information on Nellie, they found nothing whatsoever on him. Nellie made little effort to disguise her schadenfreude.
“Oh, don’t be so peevish, Harcourt. I’m sure you tried to the best of your bent.”
Amber tried to take an interest in the library information—or at least in Nellie’s torture of the professor—but found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything but the countdown, which seemed to be ticking by impossibly fast.
* * *
The timer hit the twenty-five-minute mark.
Damn, those two are cutting it close.
* * *
The ten-minute mark came and went.
“Ship, any sign of them?”
“Not yet, Ms. Richardson.”
* * *
Five minutes left. Amber’s anxiety had spread to the rest of the crew. Nellie looked up from the screen.
“Should we go after them, do you think?”
“Merlin said to stay put,” Amber said reluctantly. “He was very clear on that point.”
“Yes, but he also was very clear that we should leave if they’re not back in three hours,” Nellie said. “And that’s coming up swiftly.”
“Well, yes,” Amber replied slowly, “but I can’t believe he was serious about that. How could he think we’d actually abandon him… or Blake?”
Harcourt looked up from his obsessive scrolling of the screen.
“What are you talking about?” he said. “Do you mean to say Dr. Meta and Sgt. Blake left us here without so much as a by-your-leave? That’s madness. I never would have agreed to it!”
“I hardly think fear of your disapproval played into their plans,” Nellie retorted.
Harcourt ignored her, focusing his glare on Amber. “And now you mean to say we could be in danger if we wait for them to return. Good heavens, girl, who are you to question the man’s orders? Let’s be gone, and post-haste!”
Rather than choose between explaining herself or punching the man, Amber left the common room and went up to the observation deck, where Cam still kept watch. He turned at the sound of her approach.
“Any sign of them?” she asked.
“Nothing yet.”
The digital timer materialized in front of them.
“Ms. Richardson,” the ship said, “it has been three hours.”
Cam looked at her. “Are we going to leave?”
Amber’s gut clenched as she looked out across the veldt, hoping for a sign—any sign—of the two men, but saw nothing but the prehistoric menagerie.
“We’ll give them another few minutes.”
* * *
Five minutes went by. Then ten.
* * *
Amber hid out on the bridge to escape Harcourt’s increasingly frantic protests. Her insides knotted more with every second. She stared at the clock like a death-row inmate awaiting the governor’s call. When twenty minutes had passed beyond the deadline, her chest felt full of molten lead.
She couldn’t put it off anymore.
“Ship, we need to leave,” she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. With a thrum, the ship’s engines powered up. With a heavy heart, Amber left the bridge and went up the steps to the observation deck.
“Come on down, Cam.”
“Wait!” He leaned over the railing, peering intently across the savannah. “They’re back!”
13
The Veldt Shard, North Africa
Midday – Six days after the Event
Light-headed with relief, Amber watched as Merlin and Blake pulled up, leaving the hovercycle in the shade of the Vanuatu. With its usual liquid ease, a hatch seamlessly opened in the ship’s belly. The floating vehicle silently levitated itself up to some interior cargo hold before the ship’s skin flowed back in place again.
She rushed to greet them at the gangplank, anxious to explain herself to Merlin. He had the hood of his monk robe pulled over his head, and she was sure he was angry.
“I know I shouldn’t have waited, and I’m sorry,” she called down to the two men. “I just couldn’t stand the thought of leaving without you.” Merlin avoided eye contact with her as he came up the gangplank. She shook her head in frustration. “Come on. You seriously didn’t expect I’d leave you guys behind, did you?”
Stopping in his tracks, he pulled the hood back just enough to let him fix his gaze on her. Those star-streaked violet eyes of his still unnerved her a bit, especially without any warmth behind them.
“We’ll talk inside,” he said tersely. “Right now, I need time alone… to think.” He pushed past her onto the Vanuatu, hesitating for a moment before heading down the corridor toward his cabin.
Amber grabbed Blake’s arm as he came aboard. “He’s angry with me, isn’t he?”
Blake’s shoulders stiffened at her touch and he turned to her with an unreadable look on his face. “I have a lot of work to do right now.” He pulled his arm free.
Her eyes widened with hurt surprise. “Come on, Blake. You’re not mad at me, too—are you?”
“You didn’t do what he specifically told you to do, now, did you?” he replied in a flat tone, vanishing down the corridor without another word. Amber stared after him, unsure of what to say or do to make things better.
* * *
Ambe
r sat in the common area, resting her head against a window, miserable. Wanting to be there when either Merlin or Blake emerged again, she had resisted the urge to go hide in her cabin. She needed to defend herself. After all, she had saved their lives by not abandoning them.
Still, part of her brain was busy playing prosecuting attorney, calling up Blake’s damning testimony. The fact was, she had disobeyed Dr. Meta’s instructions—which meant regardless of any good intentions on her part, she had put all their lives in danger. Or had she? The mental second-guessing went back and forth in her head like a tennis match.
An almost imperceptible, whisper-thin sound of a cabin door opening caught her attention. Listening to the soft pad of footsteps coming down the hall, she was both relieved and unusually nervous when she saw it was Merlin. He had changed his wannabe-Jedi robe for a fresh set of seamless gray dress shirt and slacks, but there was one very obvious change.
“Wow, look at you!” she exclaimed. His signature silver mane of hair was gone, replaced by a crisp buzzcut.
“Do you like it?” He gave her a sheepish grin, and gingerly touched the back of his head.
“It’s… nice—now you don’t look like such a hippie,” she teased, relieved that he seemed to be his old self again.
“Yes, this seemed a little more suited to Africa.”
“Just in time for us to leave for Antarctica.”
His brow furrowed ever so slightly, but then he gave a light laugh. “Yes, how could I forget Antarctica! That was bad timing, wasn’t it?” He smiled and changed the subject. “So where is everyone else? Gone off on a walkabout?”
“Oh no, we’re all still aboard.”
I was the only one who disobeyed orders, she thought glumly, but kept it to herself. She didn’t want to remind him of that, now that he seemed to have forgiven her.
“Excellent!” he said, rubbing his hands together briskly. “I’m glad you’re here. It gives us a chance to talk.” They both sat down. He stared at her expectantly and she felt unaccountably nervous again.
“Did you and Blake find anything we need to worry about?” she asked.
“Yes and no,” he replied non-helpfully. “But I’m not going to lie to you. We have a more immediate situation.”
“Do you mean here aboard the ship?” Her mind flipped through possibilities. “Aren’t we able to leave yet?”
“That’s what we need to talk about.” He folded his hands. “While we were scouting, I had a talk with Blake about shipboard security. He agrees that we need to be very careful about the potential for sabotage. I need you to tell me precisely how you were able to alter the navigational system, and lock out the bridge.”
“What do you mean?” Amber shook her head, confused. “I already told you everything I know—which is nothing.”
“You don’t remember any of how you did it?” He leaned in slightly.
“Of course not,” she said, taken aback. “Why would you ask me that now?”
“Now Amber,” he said, “there’s no need to be defensive.”
“I’m not trying to be defensive,” she shot back. “I’m just really confused. We already covered all this. I don’t think there’s anything else to say.”
“Isn’t there?” His cascading eyes bored into her.
Amber was at a loss for words. Hadn’t he believed everything she’d told him earlier? Or did he think she was lying? She’d thought they were both on the same page. As if sensing her unease, he suddenly relaxed and leaned back, flashing his palms in mock surrender.
“Easy now, this isn’t an interrogation,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m just trying to recall everything you told Blake earlier.”
“I didn’t tell Blake anything. I told you.”
“I misspoke. That’s what I meant to say.” He leaned in again. “Amber, we just need to make sure I have all the facts straight.”
“It’s just that…” Amber trailed off, not sure how to finish her thought.
“Yes?” He gave her a wide, reassuring smile. “What else did you want to say?”
“Well, you know, you and I talked about the dreams I had about you—or maybe some other Merlin.”
“Merlin?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Remind me again—who is this Merlin?”
“Who’s Mer—?” Amber started.
She froze.
Who are you? she thought, staring back at the stranger sitting across from her. She fought to keep her expression neutral.
“Um, yeah, Merlin is the guy I had a strange dream about,” she said carefully. “You told me not to worry about it, and you’re totally right. It’s not important.” She put a hand on her forehead. “Look, I’m not feeling so great. Would you mind if we continue this later? I think I’ll go up top for some fresh air.”
The man regarded her for a long moment with his strange alien eyes. Then he put on another of his broad smiles.
Put on, like a costume, Amber thought with stomach-dropping certainty. It isn’t real.
“Of course.”
Relieved, she started to stand.
“Before you go, however…”
Amber froze for a second, then sat back down.
“I want to show you something we came across out there. Mr. Blake, could you show her what we found?”
“Certainly.”
It took all of Amber’s self-control not to jump. Blake was standing right behind her—had he been there the whole time, just lurking without a word? That was beyond creepy. He held a military-looking satchel, and reached inside. Amber stood up, alarmed, backing away from him. Merlin stood.
“No need to be frightened, Amber,” he said gently, like a dogcatcher to a cornered stray. “Relax, we’re all friends here.”
“Oh, I know that,” she said, forcing out an attempt at a light laugh. It failed. “I’ll look at it later, I promise. I just… I really need some fresh air.”
Blake started toward her, but Meta put a hand on the man’s chest, easing him back. “No, it’s fine. Let her go. She just needs a little fresh air. She’s not going anywhere.”
Amber nodded silently, a strained smile frozen on her face, and backed away as nonchalantly as she could manage. Once safely out of the common room and into the corridor, she practically ran up the stairs to the sun deck.
* * *
“Cam!”
The Celt stood against the railing, happily taking in all the wildlife. At the sound of Amber’s voice, he turned—but when he did, his face darkened. Something was wrong. He could hear it in the timbre of her voice, see it in the fire behind her eyes.
“Amber? What is it?” he asked.
“Hey there, Cam!” Amber replied as she hurried toward him, her body language at odds with the forced good cheer in her voice. “No, everything’s great. Just wanted some fresh air.” She leaned next to him on the railing, trying hard to look casual. The mixed signals baffled Cam—he was unskilled at such games.
“Amber? You’re acting strangely. What’s going on?”
She shushed him. “Come here and keep your voice down!” Puzzled and alarmed, he turned back to the railing. She leaned her head against his.
“Pretend we’re just watching the animals,” she murmured. He froze, realizing they were in danger, but uncertain where or who it was coming from. The urge to protect her increased his pulse.
“Act like nothing’s wrong,” she added. “I think they might be spying on us.”
“Why would anyone spy on us?”
“We’re in trouble,” she said. “That’s not Merlin and Blake in there—they’re imposters.”
“They’re nghrimbil?” His implant gave him the English word. “I mean, they’re changelings?” This was serious. Malevolent spirits in the shapes of men were a very real danger.
“I don’t know who they really are, or what they want, but we’ve got to warn the others and stop them before they sabotage the mission.”
Cam nodded. “What shall we do?”
“First, let’s go tell
Nellie and Harcourt what’s happening, and then we can see if—”
Cam lost his balance, and so did Amber. The railing against which they were leaning began to drop away from under them. With barely a sound or hint of vibration, the ship’s hull began to change. The railing dripped down, melting away into the deck. The surface beneath their feet became slick and glossy, the flat deck humping up into a curve.
“Oh my god,” Amber gasped in horrified disbelief as the deck shifted under their feet. “He’s taking off!”
No trace remained of the hatchway that led to the ship’s interior—it had also vanished as if it never existed. Silently, the ship continued to change. Panels of energy reappeared, forming the feathers of the Vanuatu’s wings. So did the spearhead at the bow, springing to brilliant, shimmering life.
Amber and Cam looked around frantically for any ladder or hatch. Nothing. The entire surface beneath them shifted as the Vanuatu gently lifted up into the air. She screamed. The ship’s engines kicked in and the two of them instantly slid off. Their bodies tumbled away toward the ground below.
14
Indo-Pacific NeoSoviet Confederation
Greater Jakarta Military District, Java
February 2, 2219
One hour before the Event
The aircraft cut through the cold concrete sky like an obsidian arrowhead, speeding past the deserted towers of Jakarta. Scramblejets were reserved for the upper echelon, and this one was more exclusive still—a black ops stealth model. It made no sound except for a hushed hiss as it sped by, like a blade being drawn from a sheath. Military hardware of this caliber was available only for elite strike team missions—and the secret police.
The pilot checked his coordinates. Onboard instrumentation tracked the high-energy signature to the ashen highlands west of Rangkasbitung. That meant that Brahmastra, the top-secret project, was already operational, which in turn meant there was no time to waste on subtlety. He spotted the lab site—to all appearances a long-abandoned textile warehouse—sitting atop a dead hillock.
He would have preferred to land out of sight and approach on foot from a short distance. Instead, he simply switched over to VTOL and—flashing the proper landing code to avoid getting shot down by the battery of concealed surface-to-air missiles—set down just outside the crumbled cinderblock building.