Trinity

by Patrick Morgan

  ‘My father has nothing to do with this,’ she said vehemently.

  ‘Exactly,’ replied Kane with a deliberate calmness that clearly intimated he had already predicted this answer. ‘He knew better.’

  Silence descended upon the two of them for a turn or more, each in their own way trying to calculate their next move. It was Iain who broke the stalemate.

  ‘So, what the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  ‘Try me anyway,’ he said, pausing in his work.

  Not knowing how to frame the craziness of the situation, Katherine blurted it out as best she could. ‘Kyra has stolen HEX – took her from the Vault a little over twenty shifts ago and headed out into Ayon. ROOT says he knows where she’s going, but he’s being evasive.’

  Iain reached down for the bottle and drank deeply, taking in her words with the fiery liquid. Katherine, who had despaired of his descent into alcoholism towards the end of their cohabitation in Skala, forced herself not to react. He lowered the bottle and eyed her intently from behind long straggles of wild hair.

  ‘You’re mad,’ he said simply, not taking his eyes off her. She looked off to the side in resignation. ‘Kyra’s a bit wild, there’s no denying that, but she’ll have taken HEX for a reason. She’s a straight thinker.’

  Katherine bridled. ‘Unlike me, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Yes, unlike you,’ he snarled. ‘You think in complicated patterns. Always. The simple answer will never do for you. It’s always engineering, complicated by politics and how to avoid a fight. Kyra, for all her faults, decides on a path and follows it. She normally has it set out right at the beginning.’

  ‘You’ve always had a thing for Kyra,’ she flung back at him, phlegm unintentionally spitting from her lips.

  ‘I have not,’ he spat back at her. ‘I respect her, but I’ve never had a thing for her. I know you thought that back in Skala, but it’s a product of your own insecurity. I’ve never slept with her and I’ve never had the desire to. That’s what you seem to miss in me. I loved you, but you loved your work, your colleagues and Ratha more. A person can only take that for so long.’ He swept the bottle to his lips and took a long, violent gulp before spitting some of the black liquid onto the floor in front of him. ‘You cared about you, that’s all.’

  He began again, more level, meeting her eyes this time. He could see she was holding back tears and, despite his rhetoric, he didn’t wish to hurt her. ‘So how are you going to find Kyra?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know exactly, follow her. We’ve got a survey drone…’ she said, hopelessly, looking down at the floor. ‘ROOT is convinced he can take us to where she’s going, but I can’t get him to explain where or why.’

  ‘You have ROOT with you?’ Iain asked in amazement.

  ‘Yes,’ said Katherine, still finding the circumstances hard to believe herself. ‘He’s kind of stuck in there, in GVX I mean.’

  ‘That thing out there is John Orchard’s project? I saw plans some time ago. I didn’t realise it was finished.’

  ‘It’s about finished. Enough to get us here, anyway,’ she explained. ‘Whatever it is that’s going on – and I can’t pretend I have any understanding of Kyra’s motive myself – my father seems to buy into it. He helped get us here.’

  Iain’s face hardened and she saw a degree of acceptance in it. When he spoke, his voice was quieter and more measured. ‘If Kyle believes in it, then I guess I should treat it seriously.’

  She looked at him and nodded. ‘I think it’s real, too. The whole thing might seem crazy but there is a ring of truth to it I can’t explain.’

  ‘What do you need from me?’ he asked.

  She looked at the floor, not sure how to answer. ‘We don’t need anything really, this was just a last stop-off. We’re heading out onto the ice as soon as we can get to it. If there is anything you can tell us, then I guess that would be appreciated.’

  He looked at her for a long time and they locked stares; hers tearful but resolute, his dark and questioning. He smiled, not in mirth but with the genuine smile she had long ago fallen in love with.

  ‘There are a lot of big, furry creatures that are really pissed off,’ he said, with a fleeting grin. She hesitated, then put a hand out, reaching for the bottle, which he passed to her. She took a swig and choked, the liquid spilling from the corners of her mouth.

  ‘Sorry, it’s fairly strong.’

  ‘Strong?’ she laughed. ‘This stuff is like battery acid.’

  ‘Best we can do out here.’ He held out a hand and took the bottle back as she stifled a retch. ‘I can probably find you a glass, though,’ he said wryly.

  039: The Southern Reaches

  Approach to Tsarocca, 2,361km South of Kul

  Even stripped of his armour, Benjamin Kittala was huge. The armour itself looked like a second person hung in the rear hold of Pegasus 3 and Megan had found herself startled more than once on catching sight of it. She was getting tired and a little jumpy. After giving Olson loose instruction on the route he should take, Kittala had slept almost constantly. He had stretched himself out next to the elegant hydrocycle, strapped down to the chequer-plate floor. How he could sleep with all the jostling and lurching of the vehicle Megan wasn’t sure, but she was beginning to feel she would probably do the same if she had the opportunity.

  Fortunately, with no immediate rush, they had been able to stop at regular intervals as they threaded through the canyons east of Kul. Olson had done the bulk of the driving, but where the terrain turned flat he allowed her to swap places and get a feel for the machine. It was exhilarating but, as he took back the controls at the sight of the smallest obstacle, the feeling was short-lived. He had promised her more seat time on the return journey to Skala and she hoped he would allow her a little more latitude when the time came.

  To Megan’s surprise, what Kittala called the ‘canyon country’ was more populated than she had imagined. She had visited a few of the outlying settlements to the north and south of Skala, but had not expected to find people living so far into the inhospitable drylands of Hellinar. These were not temporary settlements either. As the rock walls smoothed into plains, she could see outposts the size of small towns. Megan assumed these must be relics of the time Kul had been the capital. Those of more recent construction she guessed were the product of the ‘seedings’ that were occasionally dispatched from Skala to establish a wider civilisation. Whereas a few had permanent stone shield-walls, eroded like those of the dead capital, others featured a patchwork of corrugated steel to protect them from the sandstorms that occasionally swept in from the desert. Sporadically they passed scattered herds of ravaged gaur, thin and gaunt by comparison with the magnificent satin-coated bovine stock farmed in grasslands east of Skala.

  At Kittala’s insistence, they kept their distance from the settlements, but Megan found herself intrigued. She made a mental note to return and explore further if the opportunity arose. The answers to even the most basic questions of survival out here eluded her, and she felt there could be more to learn than might be immediately obvious. Such had been the case with the Hadje beneath Skala, a lesson she vowed not to forget in a hurry.

  Progressively, the signs of scattered habitation became ever more sparse as they turned south again to pass along the outer edge of the looming mountain range that formed the boundary of the Southern Desert. Even out here, six or eight hundred kilometres beyond the cusp of Hellinar, the mountains were capped with snow.

  After two shifts’ travel, the barren, rocky landscape gave way to the red dust of arid drylands. Strange, sometimes precarious-looking outcroppings of rock punctuated the even horizon and beneath them the solid ground became a carpet of fragmented, loose platelets.

  She kept coming back to thoughts of Kyra and the impossible enormity of her situation. In the whirlwind of the events leading up to Katherine’s shock departure with the GVX crew, she’d felt sure Kyra must have bee
n justified in whatever had motivated her to steal HEX. Now, out here in the searing flat rubble of Hellinar, she had started to doubt her assertions. Lost in these thoughts, she propped an elbow on a raised knee and watched through the side window as the jagged shards of rubble passed by. She could almost see the heat emanating from them, and began to consider that the emptiness of this place was enough to alter a person’s way of thinking.

  ‘You want to swap?’ asked Olson, gently bringing her back to the present. ‘Not much you can hit out here. I could really use a little sleep.’ He nodded and began to slow Pegasus 3.

  ‘Sure,’ said Megan in a flat, over-decisive voice that she immediately regretted. ‘I mean, of course. I’d be happy to,’ and gave him what she hoped was a warm smile.

  Olson made his way back into the hold to a now-awake Kittala, who wordlessly moved forward to the passenger seat as Megan took the controls. He barely fitted but she was grateful for the company. She moved off, a little clumsily at first, but soon smoothed their acceleration into a stable fifty kilometres per rotation cruise. The loose stone beneath them produced an almost constant clatter as it was thrown up to bounce off lined wheel arches. Occasionally, an errant rock would fly up and strike the metal hull with a high-pitched clang. It was little better than travelling in a tin can.

  ‘How in the world do you ride a hydrocycle across this?’ she asked Kittala.

  ‘It’s about technique,’ he said, not taking his eyes off the horizon. ‘It’s stable enough once you’re at speed. Turning is another matter, you have to dig the front wheel in and turn the bike from the rear using the throttle. It’s a little intimidating at first but, once you have the measure of it, it’s quite easy.’

  ‘I find it hard to imagine you intimidated by anything. You don’t worry about running out of fuel?’ she asked, knowing the bike was far too small to carry a mulching system, not that there was anything to mulch out here anyway.

  He laughed, a gentle, prolonged sound that Megan found calming. He turned and looked at her quite seriously, his massive frame almost completely obscuring the side view. ‘I worry about it all the time. That’s why it’s in the back.’

  She looked at him and smiled. ‘It’s a very distinctive-looking bike’.

  ‘If such a thing can be, yes it is,’ he agreed. ‘It was a gift,’ he said with a finality Megan didn’t want to challenge.

  ‘Can you tell me about Tsarocca?’ she asked, to change the subject.

  ‘It’s better you see it,’ he said, staring out into the distance. ‘It’s not a place that’s easy to describe in words.’

  ‘Is it like Skala?’ she persisted.

  ‘No,’ he said with a burst of humour that filled the cockpit. ‘It is nothing like Skala. Wait and see. It’s not much further, a shift at most.’

  *

  After the endless flat of the rock field, the terrain finally became more undulating. The ground returned to a smoother, dustier surface, giving them a respite from the constant din of the hull strikes. From time to time Megan thought she saw small tufts of grass, although it seemed impossible any flora could survive out here. These sightings became more regular and, despite her tiredness, she became convinced she was not seeing things. Nevertheless, she was pleased to trade places with Olson for a few rotations’ sleep.

  When she woke it took her a moment to get her bearings. Pegasus 3 was no longer moving and she could see Kittala’s suit was gone. Blearily, she realised the tailgate had been lowered, a hot breeze streaming into the hold and with it a host of unfamiliar sounds. The air was different. Not the dry heat of the desert she had experienced over the past few shifts, but damp and humid.

  She pulled herself up and slid her feet into her boots, tucking the laces into the tongue rather than stopping to tie them. She moved towards the loading ramp, blinking against the bright malevolence of the sunlight that silhouetted two figures of disparate height. Stumbling a little down the ramp towards them, she found, to her disbelief, that she was staring at a vast landscape of plant life.

  ‘What?’ she gasped, shocked by the sight. They were pulled up on a high ridge looking across a valley covered with exotic trees, the like of which she had never seen before. ‘How long was I asleep? Did we turn around?’ She felt confused and disorientated.

  ‘You slept about a half-shift,’ said Olson, who seemed similarly wonderstruck. ‘It’s quite magnificent isn’t it?’

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Close to Tsarocca,’ said Kittala, pointing. ‘It’s just beyond that valley. We will have to go on foot from here.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe all this life,’ said Megan.

  ‘The area has its own micro-climate,’ explained Kittala, fastening the arm straps of his suit as he did so. ‘On the other side of this valley is a lake. That’s where we’re heading.’

  Within fifteen turns they were on their way, following in the wake of the towering Hadje. He brushed the plants aside with a grace that belied his size. The wet heat intensified as they progressed deeper into the foliage. The occasional croak of bullfrogs and other animal sounds Megan didn’t recognise became a constant haze of noise. As her senses grew more attuned, she could pick out individual animals, the gentle hiss of a nearby snake tasting the air, or the high-pitched buzz of a dragonfly flitting between trees.

  Where hanging branches and vine became impossible to penetrate, Kittala deftly cut a path with his sword. It looked much better-proportioned in his hand than it had in Megan’s but, for reasons she was reluctant to admit to, she found a longing to hold it again. An object that responded to thought, or at least the electrical impulses generated by thought, had forged a connection she never even suspected could exist. If Tsarocca was full of such objects, who knew what was possible. Still, she remembered him saying it was a rare technology even among his people. And ancient, which didn’t make sense.

  Upon finding the occasional clearing, Kittala would pause their relentless march, allowing a moment for Olson to recuperate. Perspiration dripped from him, saturating the collar of his jumpsuit, which he had zipped open as far as was decent. The infrequent stops were short-lived but enough to keep exhaustion at bay, and he continued to keep up with an energy that should have belonged to a younger man.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ he said as they paused to rest once more.

  ‘Of course,’ said Megan, who herself was glad of the chance to recover.

  ‘That note I gave you when we first met in the library. The one Katherine wrote. What did it say?’

  ‘Oh, that,’ said Megan, clearly amused. ‘It was some rambling nonsense, typical Katherine. I can’t remember exactly, something about you being a better version of her. Something daft like that.’

  Olson smiled inwardly. ‘That was a kind thing for her to say.’

  Megan merely shrugged, not understanding, but the sentiment gave him a degree of renewed strength. He pushed himself up again and Kittala, who had observed their exchange without comment, took this as a signal to start moving again.

  Further into the jungle the ground began to rise a little, causing Olson to pant at the exertion. Megan was worried about him. After ten turns of steep incline they halted in another clearing. Megan thought she could hear lapping water and wondered if they had finally reached the lake they were looking for.

  Kittala stood strident before them, sniffing the air with obvious pleasure. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, donning his faceplate with a single hand, fingers splayed wide across the smooth face. ‘We’re very close now.’

  Deftly, he reattached an electrical connector and what Megan had recognised as a gas drybrake at his neck. After the shifts of travelling it was strange to see him covered once more. The form she had initially assumed to be a monster now looked elegant but simultaneously powerful and lithe. He stepped forward, brushing a huge fern aside for them to pass. A few metres further on the ground became mossy and firm, before giving way to smooth, grey stone. Breaking out of the foliage and back into the blinding
light of the sun, they saw the lake stretched out before them. From their vantage point high on a ledge, the water glistened below them, seeming to swirl a little as it did so.

  ‘It’s stunning,’ said Olson, who was unashamedly awed by the sight. ‘When I was a kid I saw lakes and rivers up in the north, but nothing like this.’

  ‘It’s amazing,’ Megan agreed.

  They took a moment to take it all in and Kittala, holding back a supple branch to allow them a clear view, was encouraging them.

  Presently, Megan came back from her reverie to look up at him. ‘So where’s Tsarocca, Benjamin?’

  He looked down at her, his obscured features unreadable. When he spoke it was in that slightly muted, electronically manipulated voice she recalled from their first encounter in the atrium of Kul.

  ‘It’s below you,’ he said.

  ‘Below us? I don’t understand.’

  ‘You’ve seen a great deal in recent times, have you not, Megan Devin?’

  ‘An unbelievable amount,’ she agreed honestly.

  ‘Then you must trust me. You have to jump.’

  ‘Jump?’ she asked, horrified. It was at least a twenty-metre drop to the water.

  ‘Jump,’ he said, releasing the branch behind her.

  He took a step forward and, to her utter astonishment, leapt off the ledge. The time it took before she heard the splash of contact with the water was sickening. Peering over, she realised she couldn’t see him. She stared at Olson, who looked concerned, but not alarmed. He leaned forward, peering to examine the water below.

  ‘Well,’ he said thoughtfully, eyes wide with excitement. ‘The man’s right, we’ve come a long way, you and I. I guess we’ve got to trust him.’

  And with that, Olson too stepped forward, pausing a moment to compose himself before stepping off the ledge and falling into the swirling surface. Megan waited but, like Kittala, Olson did not emerge from the water.