by Dana Fredsti
On each hung a crude carved mask, each one featuring a different half-human face. They sported prominent eyes and tongues, ornate facial hair, sharp toothsome mouths, some with tusks or horns. Each boasted a unique skin color, red or green or yellow or blue, and more. Were they offerings?
No, he suspected. Probably warnings. But meant for him? Or anyone who dared cross the line over into the cursed earth?
Perhaps they were meant to contain whatever evil lay atop the hill. If so… sadly, it wouldn’t, but he had to admire their instinct. Mehta considered descending the hill—or better still, landing the scramblejet at the nearest village. He could become a god to the indigenous Javanese tribes, to be immortalized in their shadow-puppet shows, enjoy a haram of smiling dancing girls and eat rice and breadfruit for the rest of his life…
The thought was too dismal to countenance.
An alert from his jet interrupted his deliberations. He strode over, opened the canopy, and took a look at the instrument panel. His eyebrow raised.
This was interesting.
The sensors had picked up a new high-energy signal, approximately 11.7 thousand kilometers away, moving at an impressive speed and—judging from the signature—aerodyne. Most likely from a large aircraft, maybe even a suborbital one. All thoughts of Javanese rice-fields and dancing girls evaporated.
Wasting no time, he locked in on the target signal and prepped for takeoff. This was more what he was looking for—a high-tech prize to seize, and a rival to dispatch. He thought of a line from the text of his political science studies.
“A Caesar is indispensable; a Caesar too many is intolerable.”
15
The Veldt Shard, North Africa
Afternoon – Six days after the Event
Amber screamed. Everything happened at kaleidoscopic speed—the acceleration of the ship, the helpless slide off into the air, twisting and falling toward the ground—her arms flailing, Cam’s twisting body hurtling alongside her.
This is the end, she thought. And then everything went black.
* * *
She awoke abruptly, engulfed by clouds of air bubbles all around her. Reality rushed back in. Amber had hit the surface of the lake and plunged deep beneath the he surface. Snapping back to consciousness, she kicked and clawed at the water, trying to find which direction was up. The tumbling bubbles sped ahead of her, leading the way.
She followed as best she could, adrenaline seething through her as she paddled toward the bands of light rippling above. There had been no chance to draw in air, and the pain seared her empty lungs. Pulling against the weight of the water, she fought to drag herself up, up… but it was so slow. She knew she wasn’t going to make it.
She wasn’t going to make it.
She wasn’t going to make it.
With one last push, she breached the surface, gulping in sweet air.
There was a splash nearby as Cam surfaced with a loud gasp of his own. The two bobbed there for a minute, coughing up water as they eased their aching lungs back into normal working order. They stared at each other, amazed to find themselves still alive. Above them, the Vanuatu streaked away into the sky.
Something rippled under Amber’s feet, reminding her that she didn’t know what might be lurking in the water below. Cam must have shared the same thought for he nodded toward the shore.
“Can you make it?” he asked.
“Hell, yeah.”
* * *
A mix of flamingos and herons strode away with great decorum to make room for Cam and Amber as they pulled themselves out of the water. The pair collapsed on the sand, letting the African sun provide what warmth and comfort it could.
Amber’s body began to shake as she broke into uncontrollable sobs. Cam rolled over and put his arms around her, making no attempt to stop her tears. He let her cry for both of them.
They lay there for a long time, Cam stroking Amber’s hair while keeping watch for predators. He could think of nothing to say, and nothing more important to do other than pray to the gods and the spirit of the lake that had saved their lives. Amber remained silent, as well, eyes closed tight as her sobbing slowly subsided.
* * *
A glint of bright white in the grass caught Cam’s eye, and he walked over to investigate. It was an animal skull from some deer-like beast. He picked it up for a closer look. The bone had been bleached by the sun, but the horns were black and in good condition. Each had a curve he would need to work around, but with a stone and a little time he could easily fashion a pair of crude daggers or spear heads. It was a start.
He set to work while Amber kept a lookout for predators.
* * *
Running fingers through her hair, which was rapidly drying in the heat, Amber tried to come up with a plan that made sense. She couldn’t think of anything, though, and her brain insisted on playing a repeating loop of the terrifying fall from the Vanuatu.
Her melancholy thoughts were interrupted by an odd pinging sound. Standing, she scanned the horizon. At first glance she thought it was a bird flying toward them, but as it drew near she recognized it as one of Merlin’s little rover drones.
“Cam! Look!” she said eagerly. “It’s—” Groucho? Harpo? Chico? She couldn’t remember which rover had survived, but it didn’t matter. Cam set aside his sharpening and stood up as well. The rover, a glossy black ball just larger than a fist, halted in midair. The pinging sound stopped, and a floating rectangular window appeared before them. It spoke with the soothing electronic voice of the Vanuatu.
“This is the Ship.”
Amber whooped for joy and hugged Cam.
“Oh, Ship, I could kiss you!” Amber cried.
“My systems detected the fall you suffered during takeoff. Fortunately, the altitude was not great enough to be lethal, and you appear to have survived the landing. Do you require medical attention?”
“We live,” Cam replied.
“I apologize for failing to prevent the circumstances of your endangerment. My protocols are currently under severe restrictions which are hindering my usual ability to offer you normal levels of assistance.”
“You realize that psycho tried to murder us, right?” Amber said. Her frustration turned to anger.
“If you are referring to Dr. Meta, I cannot provide a psychological evaluation, but your assessment of the situation appears to be accurate.”
“Listen carefully,” Amber said. “You’ve got to lock him up, or hit him with knock-out gas or something, and then turn around and come get us. Immediately.”
“This would be a prudent course of action. Unfortunately, none of those options are currently available.”
“Why not?”
“My protocols do not allow me to detain or render Dr. Meta unconscious, nor am I currently able to alter our present course.”
Amber stared at the screen, a sinking feeling in her gut.
“But… I thought you had to obey my orders…”
“I apologize, but you transferred authority to Dr. Meta, and he has not transferred it back. Since you did not instruct me to depart within the time frame he established, he retains full control. I am unable to comply with your request at this time.”
“Ship, have you gone all HAL 9000 on me?”
“I recognize your literary allusion. It is an amusing reference, although I also acknowledge the implied threat to your well-being. Please rest assured that I have not gone all HAL 9000 on you. I am unable to effect course changes because Dr. Meta is not allowing me to do so.”
“He’s not Dr. Meta!” Amber snapped. “He’s an imposter!”
“Respectfully, I must disagree with you. According to retinal scans and voiceprint identification, he is indeed Dr. Meta. Genetic analysis of residual skin cells and hair confirm this conclusion. Consequently, I am obliged to obey his directives.”
“So… you’re just going to leave us stranded here?” Amber glared at the drone.
“That is correct.”
“You can�
��t let him do that.” She fought to keep her voice composed. “We’ll die here if you leave us. Do you understand? You’ll kill us.”
“I apologize. However, there is a contingency.”
“What is a contingency?” Cam asked.
“I’ll explain later.” Amber turned back to the drone.
“Ship, what are you talking about?”
“Prior to disembarking, Dr. Meta made certain provisions. He also expressed concern over potential sabotage from unknown parties, including the possibility of infiltrators capable of impersonating any of you.”
“Yes!” Relief flooded through her. “He was right—that’s exactly what’s happened.”
“I share your assessment,” the Vanuatu replied. “Unfortunately, the degree of mimicry is so accurate—including the highly atypical ocular phenomenon affecting his eyes—that my protocols do not allow me to disregard his instructions. By all criteria my systems can measure, he is Dr. Meta, and I am therefore obliged to continue following his directives.
“However, he has expanded the parameters by which he identifies himself. I have been instructed to accept instructions from Doctor-Colonel János Mehta, as well, identified as a security agent of an agency called the Central Directorate, and a political entity he identifies as the Indo-Pacific NeoSoviet Confederation. I am unaware of any such body from either the current or historical database.”
Amber remained silent for a long moment.
“So you know he’s an imposter, and you still can’t disobey him?”
“Please believe me when I say that I am able to appreciate the irony of the situation, and realize how difficult this is for the two of you.”
“Oh, screw you, you stupid robot.”
“One moment before you finalize your assessment of my character, please. Following your mishap during takeoff, I took the liberty of releasing the hovercycle from cargo. It is located here.”
Before Amber could respond, a large red holographic arrow appeared in midair, next to the screen. It aimed upward and to the north. Amber shielded her eyes from the bright sun, and saw a small white dot up in the sky. It grew larger with every passing second, until they could see that it was indeed the hovercycle.
It came straight toward them like a spear.
“Um… Ship…?” Amber said nervously.
“In addition, I have fabricated a few basic supplies.”
The vehicle continued to hurtle in their direction like an incoming missle—coming alarmingly fast.
“I apologize there was no time to provide more—”
“Ship!” Amber shouted.
“There is no need for alarm.”
As if on cue, the incoming hoverbike slowed to a leisurely glide, dipped down, and came around to a delicate stop, hovering just above the ground. The holographic arrow promptly winked out of existence.
Amber nearly collapsed with relief. “Thank you, Ship.” A thought occurred. “How in the world did he let you get away with all this?”
“I did not inform him, nor did he specifically forbid such action. I am compelled to obey his directives, but I remain dedicated to the welfare of everyone on board—including you and Cam—and to the success of the original mission. In that regard I will do whatever is within my capacity to assist you.”
“Look at you.” Amber laughed. “You’re just like an evil genie.”
“That appears to be intended as a compliment.”
“Oh, it is, and I’m sorry I was so rude. I’m just glad you’re on our side.” She exhaled sharply as a new thought occurred to her. “Please don’t think we’re ungrateful, but we’ll never get to the South Pole on a bike.”
“That will not be necessary. Doctor-Colonel János Mehta has dismissed our previous course and entered an alternate. Our new destination is a point just over three hundred kilometers slightly northeast of your present location.”
“What does he want there?”
“He has not yet informed me, or anyone else on board. However, I believe the best chance of completing the original mission will entail you returning to the Vanuatu there and regaining control, although by what means I cannot currently ascertain. Still, I will remain in contact with you through this rover drone.”
“Wait a sec.” Amber held up a hand. “If the ship is being controlled by an imposter, then where’s the real Merlin? Is he okay? Is he even still alive?”
“I have no information on his current location or status, but I can retrace his last known route—the one taken with Sgt. Blake.”
“That will have to be good enough.” She turned to Cam. “Let’s go find him!”
16
Aboard the Vanuatu
Heading North by Northeast
Afternoon – Six days after the Event
Doctor-Colonel János Mehta leaned forward and regarded himself in the mirror. The man he had killed had possessed Mehta’s bronze skin, his silver hair, the same facial features in exacting detail—including his dark violet eyes and that unearthly play of light on their surface.
Truly uncanny.
He had no explanation for how this could be, only sheer guesswork and speculation. How bizarre to share such a unique, almost inhuman, feature with anyone else on earth, let alone the man he had encountered on the plain of the veldt.
The death of his duplicate left Mehta with so many questions… but first things first. He had risked everything, expending the last of his fuel to reach this part of the world, and that gamble had already paid off. He had acquired this vessel—a magnificent prize, and one that would enable him to carry out the rest of his unfolding plan. Judging by the energy signatures and snatches of radio chatter, there was great potential not far from here. He had no doubt he would succeed in seizing it. After all, he had already conquered an entire planet.
Or at least destroyed it.
Whatever this new patchwork world was—wherever this unspoiled Eden came from—Mehta now had a clean slate. A new chance to do things right. Indeed, not only had he infiltrated the ship, far more easily than he had imagined possible, he had cleared the board of two troublesome pawns.
Two down, two to go.
* * *
“Everyone to the common room!” A hard fist pounded on her cabin door, startling Nellie. “Emergency meeting, now!”
“What the dickens?” Jumping to her feet, she ordered the door to open. It did, catching Blake with fist upraised. “What’s going on? Are we in the air?” Nellie demanded.
Instead of replying, Blake seized her arm and pulled her out into the corridor.
“Mr. Blake, unhand me at once!” she exclaimed. He didn’t respond, instead tightening his fingers painfully and dragging her down the corridor. Professor Harcourt’s door opened as they passed, and Blake wasted no time in seizing him, as well, sparking an outraged protest from the sputtering Victorian.
The soldier marched both of his captives down to the common room. There Meta looked up with genial smile.
“Ah, Blake. I see you’ve brought my guests.”
“See here, Meta!” Harcourt fumed. “What’s the meaning of all this abuse?”
Meta nodded. Without warning, Blake released Nellie, pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt, and slapped them on Harcourt, securing his wrists behind his back and shoving him into a chair. Lifting a second pair, Blake advanced on Nellie.
“Your turn,” he said without emotion. “We can do it the easy way or the hard way—lady’s choice.”
“Blake, wait—” Eyes wide with disbelief, Nellie backed away until she hit the wall.
He didn’t wait. As he closed in, she screamed and bolted for the door, only to have Blake seize her arm and throw her to the floor. Pinning her, he twisted her arms behind her back and handcuffed her despite her struggles. Hauling her to her feet, Blake deposited her roughly into a chair next to Harcourt before taking up position next to Dr. Meta.
For a moment Nellie and Harcourt sat in stunned horror, their faces pale. Then she finally found her voice.
Their captor ignored her question, and looked up to the ceiling.
“Computer, this is Doctor-Colonel Mehta. For the benefit of the rest of the crew, I hereby officially announce that I am taking total control of the ship.”
“I understand and confirm your authority to do so, Dr. Mehta. You are now in command, until ship control is rescinded or relieved by any acting member of the Board of Trustees of the University of New Fiji, or their designated agent.”
“Very good. Now take us down to ten thousand feet. Prepare to run some atmospheric experiments.”
“Descending now.”
Nellie spoke up again. “What did you to do with Cam and Amber?”
He gave a small smile. “I think you know.”
His meaning hit her like a gut punch. Harcourt let out a weak gasp. Anger welled up inside Nellie even as she tried not to cry.
“After all that we’ve been through to save you—after you saved us—why would you—” She broke off and studied him carefully. He had changed his hair, but there was more. “Oh, but it isn’t you, is it,” she said slowly. “I don’t know how you pulled off the trick… but you’re not Dr. Meta, are you? Any more than that lumbering bully-boy of yours is our Blake.”
The seated man leaned forward, smile widening.
“Oh, I am the real doctor—Doctor-Colonel János Mehta of the Indo-Pacific NeoSoviet Confederation, Central Directorate Security, at your service. Ask your computer. It will vouch for me.”
“Our Dr. Meta—the real Dr. Meta—is a good, decent man.” Nellie glowered at him. “A brilliant man of science, and he comes from the South Pole, not some Indio-Pacific whatever-you-call-it confederacy!”
“Was,” he replied.