Boundary (Field Book 3) Page 15

  He could define a social order by his words alone.

  “First of all, I’d like to echo Colonel Beck’s praise for everyone here today. Without your diligence and bravery, we wouldn’t be standing here now… listening to my boring ramblings…” Alfred smiled, to a smattering of polite laughter, “…in all honesty though, I’ve never been so pleased to stand in the presence of such esteemed company as all of you. Your dedication in the face of adversity has been… astonishing…”

  Alfred placed his folder on the lectern, then leafed through the pages until he was about halfway through.

  “It makes this next part that much harder,” he allowed a frown to flicker across his face, then gripped the sides of the lectern as if steeling himself.

  “One of my tasks was to keep track of suspected Exordi Nova sympathisers. These ‘Novaphiles’, I’m sure you’ve heard the term, actively worked against Archive’s life-saving projects,” he drew a deep breath and adopted an expression of concern, “Sadly, before coming here, it reached my attention that several high-ranking Archive members had become radicalised by the Exordi Nova cult.”

  His addition of the word ‘cult’ had fortified the negative imagery and a few sharp intakes of breath from below were audible even at his elevated position. The information wasn’t exactly a lie, he’d just neglected to state that the members in question were ego-morphs operating under Archive’s direct instruction. He gestured towards the observation window and continued.

  “As some of you may know, I was out there when one of them detonated an explosive vest and breached the perimeter fence. Now, obviously it’s very early days into my investigation, but I feel I must quash a rumour I’ve been hearing…”

  In actual fact he’d heard none, but by phrasing it this way he knew it helped to convince people that it was common knowledge; also, by quashing his self-made rumour, it only reinforced his authority.

  “So far, I’ve not seen anything to suggest that any of those Exordi Nova radicals succeeded in getting aboard the Node,” he shrugged, casually planting the idea, before following up with a statement that would raise more fear than it dispelled.

  “Like you, the Exordi Nova are capable and adaptive, but the fact that they attacked the perimeter fence, makes it quite unlikely that any of their associates were already hidden aboard when we departed. So, please, don’t let that image stick in your head.”

  He could see that people had stiffened slightly, but had stopped short of making eye-contact with those around them. He then continued to build on their sense of unease.

  “I would urge you all not to engage in further idle speculation. Of course, there’s no harm in remaining vigilant. You need to watch out for each other…”

  He purposefully allowed time for them to infer a malevolent meaning, before concluding the sentence in a tone of benevolent concern.

  “… after all, we’re the last links in the human evolutionary chain - we need to ensure our survival. None of us could have imagined the horrific circumstances that brought us all together so suddenly. But we have to work together to do the best we can. From the massive coordination and cooperation I’ve seen so far, I’d say that working together is what we do best.”

  He took off his glasses and then paused as though in contemplation.

  “My role is simply to look out for your safety,” he closed the folder then looked around those gathered below, “but I’m looking forward to the day when that role is no longer necessary. Once we’re free of the Exordi threat, my most sincere hope is that we’ll have the freedom to make our own choices again. Choices that can build a better community in here and, one day, a better world out there.”

  He fumbled his glasses back into place; an affectation he hoped would reinforce his scholarly appearance. The Latin phrase he was about to deliver was concocted from his surface knowledge of the language. The exact syntax was now irrelevant to the people below him, but the important part was to infer an association with an established authority.

  “Crescat nos fortior,” he allowed the words to echo around the Observation Deck, “My Latin mentor once taught me that phrase. He said that when we overcome a difficulty, we become stronger for it. We have already overcome great difficulties and we must face more in the days ahead. But for every threat we overcome, we grow stronger.”

  Bowing his head to everyone, he finished as humbly as he could manage.

  “Crescat nos fortior. We grow stronger.”

  As Alfred stepped away from the microphone, Colonel Beck took his place.

  “Thank you, Dr. Barnes,” he acknowledged, “You all have your duty rosters, we’ll reassess progress tomorrow. All hands. Stand to.”

  Everyone below stood upright then waited motionlessly as Colonel Beck walked to the observation screen control and, turning the key, deactivated the electro-tinting within the observation window.

  “Begin Day Watch,” he called.

  Alfred watched as the light flooded into the Observation Deck from the world outside.

  “Alfred,” Colonel Beck arrived at his side, “I wonder if I might have a word with you?”

  Alfred was again struck by how weary Beck appeared; the body language was deferential whilst still trying to maintain authority.

  “Of course, Colonel,” Alfred replied.

  Colonel Beck led the way to a quiet area of the balcony and lowered his tone.

  “I wanted to get your thoughts on the transfer of authority from military domain to civilian democracy. By the time the Node completes its journey, it’s possible we’ll be emerging into a fresh start. As a race, I think there’s a lot of baggage that should we should leave behind.”

  Alfred knew the concept was hopelessly naive; humans were so deeply shaped by their evolutionary chain that they carried their biological selfishness within them. It was not something that could be shrugged off by high ideals. Over the years he’d seen this thought play out time and time again; the individual’s need to explain an action by rationalising it to an appropriate authority figure. What Beck really needed was permission to divest himself of authority, and Alfred was not about to waste the opportunity by correcting a fault of reasoning.

  “Absolutely,” Alfred replied, arranging his features to reflect wholehearted agreement, “Tragic though our circumstances are, we do have an opportunity to learn from past mistakes. A fresh start is commendable. I would be only too pleased to help you draw up a list of potential -”

  “Sorry, Dr. Barnes,” he interrupted, “you misunderstand me.”

  “My apologies, Colonel,” Alfred deferred.

  “I didn’t have General Napier’s clearance level, but as I understand it,” Beck leaned a little closer, “for many years, Archive has depended on your advice when considering large scale social systems?”

  “I don’t quite follow…” Alfred lied; he was following Colonel Beck’s thought processes only too easily.

  “You already hold a position of authority within Archive,” said Beck, “It would make sense to use that authority and knowledge to move towards a democratic system that people recognise. I’d like you to consider forming a civilian government with yourself at its core.”

  Alfred had assumed that his ascension to a position of power would be less direct. The downside was that he hadn’t yet built a network of influential people with which to reinforce a position of power; however, the upside was instant authority. With authority came a different form of influence, one that he knew he could work with.

  “I’m honoured to be asked, Colonel,” Alfred showed due hesitancy, “But a presidential position is a huge decision, may I have a little time?

  “Of course,” Beck looked relieved, “You should give it careful consideration. It’s important that we get this right.”

  “Rest assured,” Alfred nodded, “It will have my full attention.”

  THIRTEEN

  19th March 2015

  The International Space Station, first begun in 1998, was now reaching completion.
The purpose and design had changed many times since its inception, but the central collection of cylindrical modules had always been a persistent feature. The very modularity of the construction made it adaptable and, with limited orbital resources, this was a necessity.

  Within the cupola module, Dr. Chen looked out at the space-suited figures moving around the structure. Fai’s assertions that she could adapt Pittman and Wild’s metathene technique had proved correct. Reinforced by the stronger dosage of metathene, the auditory cues delivered to the FLC crew’s individual hibernation bays had provided a solid base for post-hypnotic suggestion. The FLC crew were compliant, without docility; something that had been essential in order to complete the construction work that had begun several months ago.

  The construction work had followed Fai’s confirmation that the impact of Siva with the orbital ring of lunar debris would be mathematically chaotic. She had admitted that it was beyond her current computational capability to predict the outcome to any meaningful degree and that the safest course of action would be to reposition the ISS out of geostationary orbit. However, the large ISS manoeuvring thrusters didn’t have sufficient fuel to return them to their current position, so Fai had suggested using a combination of impulse thrusters and the conventional engines of Apollo 72.

  At the far end of the station, he could see Mike Sanders assisting Charles Lincoln in the final stages of placing the shuttle’s structural support braces. These would ensure that the shuttle remained rigidly attached to the ISS central core during engine burn.

  At the other end of the station, attached to the central axis via an access tube, was the Ring; a wide circular loop, interrupted in one place by an airlock that faced the central axis. He could see Cathy Gant and Lana Yakovna using it to make their way back inside, having completed their repair of an external module.

  The large external modules of the ISS were the retrofitted external liquid-fuel tanks of previous shuttles. Attached at equal intervals around the Ring’s circumference were the pointed tips of the Alpha, Beta and Gamma modules. In an arrangement similar to a long triangular prism, these three former fuel tanks ran parallel to each other and surrounded the central axis of the ISS. At the opposite end of the station, the three modules were structurally linked back to the core by simpler support struts.

  Enclosed within the prism-like structure lay the folded and dormant solar panels; now a mere fossil when compared to the Helium-3 fusion generator. The sun flared off the solar panels causing Dr. Chen to raise a hand to shield his eyes.

  “Dr. Chen?” a voice sounded from the communication panel.

  “Yes, Charles,” he replied.

  “Shuttle secure, we’re heading in through axial airlock two.”

  “Congratulations Commander, very good work.”

  In thirteen days, Siva would strike Earth. He saw no reason to delay. He switched communication channel and addressed the ISS crew.

  “This is Dr. Chen, secure your stations and prepare for centripetal spin test. Five minutes.”

  •

  “Dr. Bergstrom?” he called across the Field generator module.

  “Yes, Mr. Benton,” Anna replied, “How can I help?”

  He studied her with cold objectivity.

  “Dr. Chen is asking for a progress update on the Field.”

  “I updated the progress report an hour ago,” she objected.

  He saw that her facial reactions were slightly delayed, but consistent within themselves; she was telling the truth about her report, but something else had been omitted.

  “He also wanted me to check that you have everything you need as you near the solution.”

  The smile she returned seemed almost mechanical.

  “How kind of him,” she entered some keystrokes into the Field control panel and then pushed herself away, gesturing to the display, “Perhaps you can help me with this?”

  She folded her arms and continued to drift slightly.

  He pushed himself off the nearest hand-hold towards the panel and saw two words displayed in large text.

  “Six Four?” he read aloud, the phrase seemed familiar.

  As he turned to question her, he came face-to-face with her outstretched arm.

  “Assist Anna,” she said, holding out a large coin, embossed with an image of an intact Moon alongside the Liberty Bell.

  “Silver Coin,” she was whispering, “Assist Anna.”

  The person in front of him appeared to be changing, but without altering appearance. He studied her intensely to extract meaning from the situation, but struggled to interpret what he was experiencing. Suddenly he realised that it wasn’t her that was changing, it was his own perception.

  As though a grey, two-dimensional image was suddenly gaining colour and depth, he became aware of Anna as a living person rather than as an object.

  “Miles?”

  “Yes, I’m here…” he held onto the control panel to counteract a sudden sense of nausea, “How long was it this time?”

  “About three weeks.”

  “You should have called me out sooner,” he shook his head. He could remember his own actions during that period, but it almost felt like he’d been a passenger.

  “Chen has been with you the last few times,” Anna explained, “But I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  She cleared the screen and showed him several sets of equations.

  “What are these?”

  “The completed Field Eversion solutions, calibrated for the ISS emitters,” she shrugged, “Once Chen has them, I’m no longer needed. I don’t know if we’ll have the chance to talk like this again, so, I wanted to say goodbye.”

  “Anna, you know I’ll protect -”

  “This is Dr. Chen,” a voice sounded through the nearby speaker panel, “secure your stations and prepare for centripetal spin test. Five minutes.”

  “We both know that there are limits to your protection,” Anna continued their conversation, “You can only assist me, remember?”

  “I remember everything, Anna,” he felt his jaw clench, “This is not the time for goodbye.”

  He could hear someone approaching them so, for the sake of appearances, he adopted a blank expression and peered at the mass of equations on Anna’s screen.

  •

  Having returned to the comparative safety of the ISS interior, and without the cumbersome spacesuit damping movement, Mike could tell that Charles Lincoln had something on his mind.

  “Everything alright?” he asked.

  “It’s just…” Charles paused, “When Chen told me that you FLC lot would be giving us the construction assist, I was doubtful.”

  “And now you’re convinced you were right?” Mike returned with a grin.

  “Yep, what a bunch of losers,” he answered, sarcastically, “No. I don’t know how he persuaded you all to help out… especially after the way we treated you when the RTO docked -”

  “Water under the bridge,” Mike found himself interrupting, “Nobody knew what the hell was going on. The FLC gets destroyed and then we came along, knocking on your airlock? Probably would’ve done the same thing myself. No point arguing with an exploded Moon. What’s done is done, right? We’re in this together.”

  “You’re a good man, Sanders,” Charles gave an appreciative nod.

  Dr. Chen’s voice announced that the ISS spin test would begin shortly, so both of them secured their toolkits against the wall.

  “Will he join us in the Ring?” Mike asked.

  “I doubt it. It’s easier on his dead legs if he stays out of gravity’s way here at the pivot point,” Charles then adopted a mock-conspiratorial tone, “Also means he can stay above us all.”

  “Ha ha, guess that’s one way of looking at it,” Mike laughed, “See you down there.”

  Mike turned and pushed himself in the direction of the radial access tube. Along the way, he passed Anna Bergstrom working under the imperious gaze of Mr. Benton. He knew better than to attempt a conversation with the ego-m
orph, but offered a brief smile to Anna who seemed more nervous than usual.

  A few moments later he reached the end of the station, entered the access tube and started moving hand-over-hand along the wall-ladder. In zero gravity the ladder wasn’t currently necessary, but when the station was revolving about its centre it would be essential. During rotation, the centripetal force would behave like gravity, causing objects to fall radially away from the centre towards the outside. The wall-ladders would be the only way of climbing out of the shallow gravity-well.

  He reached the end of the tube and emerged into the Ring’s comparatively wide space. Subjectively, he saw Lana and Cathy standing upside-down on the wide, curved ceiling above him. He adjusted his mental perspective accordingly and swung himself, feet-first up to meet them. By the time he was floating next to them, he was viewing the larger outer surface not as a ceiling, but as a curved floor that appeared to rise steeply upwards in front of him.

  “So this is gonna be odd,” he started, “Having gravity back again.”

  “Hill says only one sixth Earth gravity,” Lana pointed out, “like we had at FLC.”

  “Secure all stations,” the voice of Valery Hill echoed around the space.

  “Guess this is it,” Cathy said, positioning her back against the curving floor, “I’m going to put on so much weight…”

  Mike laughed at her unexpected and dryly delivered joke. At the FLC, before all the drama had unfolded, it had usually been Leonard Cooper or Eva Gray who engaged in wordplay, rather than Cathy. Temporarily, he found himself re-experiencing the moment that Eva appeared to turn on him; locking him out of the central FLC Drum.

  He positioned himself alongside Cathy and Lana.

  Valery’s voice echoed out again.

  “CMG and tangent thrusters, ten percent. In three, two, one, mark.”

  The ISS began to rotate and he felt his own mass trying to obey inertia. An invisible wall of force began to push at him and instinctively he tightened his grip on the recessed handhold within the floor; a primitive, ape-like reaction, once used to prevent falls from trees, now replayed on a space-station to prevent him sliding along a curving floor.