Boundary (Field Book 3) Page 2

  “There’s no-one here!” Shane bellowed, as if to highlight the fact that the entire shopping mall was empty.

  Too late, Danny realised the significance of the broken glass outside the mall’s dome. No-one had broken into this place, they had been breaking out of it. The mall was deserted because it was Exordi Nova territory.

  “No…” he begged, his voice now barely a strangled whisper, “Please… No…”

  With his gloved hand, Shane held up a ring of polished steel about an inch in diameter, intersected at one point by a ball-bearing. An oily blue line of heat discolouration was working its way through the steel’s thickness and Danny could smell the metallic tang in the air.

  “You know what?” Shane asked the others, rhetorically, “Since Troye marked me, I’ve been getting on just fine by wearing these gloves. I wanna try giving our ‘New Beginning’ a new beginning.”

  Shane’s gaze settled on Danny’s forehead.

  “Hold his hair back.”

  The surge of adrenaline that accompanied Danny’s guttural roar succeeded in jostling those holding him, but he was soon brought back under their control.

  “Siva must complete its path,” Shane stepped closer.

  “Our self-sacrifice is just,” everyone around him replied.

  Danny could feel the heat from the scorching metal as it was brought closer to his face. He screamed again, but hands and arms held his head firmly in place for what was to come.

  Shane arranged the metallic symbol on the palm of his glove, inches away from Danny’s eyes.

  “Exordi Nova,” said Shane, quietly.

  “The New Beginning,” the sound of their united response swam in his ears.

  In one swift movement, Shane clapped the searing hot symbol against Danny’s forehead and pressed hard. Danny heard the hiss of his own flesh before the pain arrived, sudden and blinding. As the seconds ticked by, the pain increased until his own body forced a sudden and blissful unconsciousness upon him.

  ESCA

  23rd November 7120

  Standing in the orange glow of firelight, Esca held her baby close, the warmth of the fire keeping both the chill of night and cold ethereal glow of the Orb at bay.

  The Sky-Spirits circled overhead, passing through each other, exchanging hues and intensities of green and purple iridescence. Beyond them, she could see the sparkling rings that surrounded her world; rings that had existed long before her forefathers and would persist long after she had returned to dust.

  The Elder bade her come forward, so she lowered herself to one knee and scooped a handful of warm ash from the fire’s edge. She trod softly away from the fire’s warmth to the ancient carved stone a few footfalls away.

  She bowed in reverence to the Elder, then holding her baby firmly with one arm she offered up her handful of ash. The Elder dropped a small amount of spittle into the ash and invited her to do the same. She watched as the Elder mixed the ash and spittle into a paste within her palm, and smiled at her child who had not stirred from sleep.

  She watched as the Elder brought out his vine-weaved necklace, upon which was tied a loop of metal that shone brightly with reflected fire. The metal was broken in one place by the presence of a precious stone that appeared to sparkle under the Orb’s radiance.

  The Elder gently placed the circle on the baby’s forehead.

  “Exordi Nova,” he said quietly.

  Esca repeated his words in reply, their exact meaning had been lost to time but she knew what it represented. The circle meaning the unbroken renewal of life and the stone depicting the Orb watching over each new beginning.

  As gently as before, the Elder now removed the metal loop from her baby’s forehead. Dipping his thumb into the black ash paste in Esca’s hand, he marked the baby’s forehead with the same circular symbol, placing a wide dot to intersect the circle.

  “Archiv,” the Elder smiled at her, and gestured to the ancient stone.

  Being careful not to lose the remainder of the ash paste, she held her baby close and walked to the closest edge of the stone. Hoping that The Guardians and Sky-Spirits would guide her choice, she began walking slowly from one end of the stone to the other.

  Her choice would be important.

  It would be the sum of her hopes for her child.

  As she reached the centre of the stone, her baby stirred and she knew this was the guidance she had sought. With a feeling of deep happiness, Esca placed her ash-blackened palm on the ancient stone and pressed firmly. She then placed her hand on her baby’s head.

  “Atka,” she named him.

  ‘Guardian Spirit’ had been used by others in past generations. She hoped it would one day allow him to guide others with the same benevolence.

  MASS

  13th April 2014

  “Helm. All stop,” Tristan Westhouse announced calmly.

  “Aye, Sir,” replied Mat Kaufman, “answering all stop.”

  As the Sea-Bass submarine slowed, Tristan stood and walked to the toughened-glass bubble window.

  Over three months ago, seven lunar shards had destroyed the GPS networks, meaning their navigation was only possible using Westhouse’s Topography Overlay technique. By comparing live sonar traces to previously recorded seabed images, a visual pattern match could be found and the real-world coordinates reverse engineered.

  They had been in the deeper waters, just off the North Atlantic continental shelf, when a discrepancy in the pattern-matching data had been discovered. Visible only as the difference between live sonar and older stored data, a pattern had emerged from the background noise; it had a distinctive and recognisable shape.

  For the past half-hour, they had followed an approximately northeast heading, towards the coordinates of its theoretical existence. The sheer amount of fine debris held by the seawater had made navigation slow, but as they had approached the designated location, the water had become crystal clear.

  “Reading all stop. Station-keeping to auto,” Mat reported, then made his way forward to join Tristan at the window.

  The two of them stared.

  “Is that…?” Mat pointed.

  Tristan nodded, “Ice.”

  “But…”

  “Yeah, I know,” Tristan continued to study the formation.

  During the preceding day, he’d seen this exact shape repeatedly; in coffee stains on paper, scuff-marks around rotary dials, even within the blueprint of his father’s Glaucus Docking Ring system. The same circle and dot symbol was synonymous with the terrorist organisation Exordi Nova, a fact that had not been missed by the crew.

  However, the circle and dot symbol visible through the bubble window was not a marking, but a complex, three-dimensional shape. In form, Tristan thought it resembled an ornate engagement ring; a wide circular ring into which a gleaming pearl had been set.

  At the edge of the structure was a perfect, white sphere of ice, but the ice within the ring was not a single solid. It consisted of two intertwined spirals that followed the curvature of a wide circle; a double helix that left one side of the sphere and made one complete orbit before re-joining it.

  “It’s massive,” said Tristan, leaning forward into the bubble window to further gauge its extent.

  “You think?” Mat added dryly.

  “No,” Tristan countered, “I mean it has a lot of mass.”

  Mat was shaking his head at him.

  “Tris, a giant Exordi symbol turns up on the bottom of the ocean floor. My first thoughts are like, one…” he counted on his fingers, “what the hell? Two - what the hell? But the first thing you talk about is how heavy it is. We all know you’re super-smart, but doesn’t this even surprise you?”

  “Of course it does,” Tristan replied, “This much ice should float.”

  He heard Mat draw a breath, no doubt to comment on his logical approach to things, but the humorous critique didn’t arrive.

  “I was wrong about something,” said Mat, then pointed through the window, “It isn’t actually touc
hing the ocean floor.”

  Tristan followed Mat’s line of sight and saw the faint, diffused shadow underlying the entire structure.

  “Mat, you’re a genius,” Tristan murmured.

  “Say that again,” Mat cupped his hand behind his ear, “so that everyone can hear. And why am I a genius?”

  Tristan turned away from the window to look at him.

  “You saw something that I didn’t.”

  Seeing Mat’s frown deepen slightly, Tristan continued, “If nothing’s supporting it, how is it staying in the same place?”

  ORIENTATION

  28th December 2013

  For Miles Benton, the most traumatic part of the trip to the International Space Station had not been the launch; he’d been unconscious when Apollo 72 had made its leap to orbit. The hardest part was adjusting to having zero weight.

  Miles liked to think that after all his years under the influence of metathene, his mind could adapt to any situation by the application of logic. That may have been true during his former ego-morph days, where the cold guiding hand of the metathene would sharpen his cognition, but without the drug he was less able to simply switch off his reactions.

  He vomited into his plastic zip-lock bag and wiped his mouth on its inner absorbent lining.

  It appeared that Anna Bergstrom was faring even worse. Between bouts of vomiting, she cradled her bandaged hand; a souvenir of the aggressive interrogation administered by Bradley Pittman.

  Less than two weeks ago, at the base on Öskjuvatn Lake, Miles had promised Douglas Walker that he would do his best to assist Anna. Since that time, events had worsened considerably and he’d been unable to offer her complete protection.

  Miles had used persuasive arguments to prevent her from being killed outright, but this had prolonged her ordeal. Without the metathene to suppress his empathy, the events were weighing heavily on him. He’d broken his promise to help Anna. He found himself anxiously gripping his silver coin and recalling that he liked to help people. He’d failed.

  On the coin, the embossed Liberty Bell stood alongside a perfectly round, intact Moon. By contrast, the view through the tiny ISS porthole framed the horrifically decimated Moon.

  The dimenhydrinate patch stuck to the skin of his upper arm did not appear to be quelling the motion sickness. He opened his plastic bag slightly in preparation, but nothing arrived except an impulse to retch.

  “Miles,” came Anna’s quiet, hoarse voice.

  He looked over to see her resting upside-down and half way up the adjacent wall, further compounding his feeling of disorientation. He placed his coin back into one of his numerous pockets, then gently pushed away from the porthole to be by her side. With an outstretched hand, he reached for the handhold nearest to her. His fingers closed around the metal but his momentum carried him forwards. Most of his body overshot his intended target and he turned a somersault before he managed to orient himself to face her.

  Anna’s face crumpled and her voice trembled, “Miles, they broke me.”

  Miles didn’t know how to reply; her torture had been horrific.

  “They know!” she sniffed, cradling her hand again, “They know that once it’s built, anyone can use it. Archive knows!”

  “You mean the Node’s Field generator?”

  The science behind the Field equations was firmly outside his experience, but he did know how Archive liked to control the flow of information.

  “They know you don’t need my specialist Field knowledge to run it. I’ve got no leverage…” she continued, her voice only just audible above the constant background hum of the ISS fans and pumps, “I’m too old… they don’t need us…”

  Miles knew this could not be true and told her so. If they were not needed, it would have been easier to leave them behind on Earth. They both had a function aboard the ISS, even if they couldn’t currently see it.

  On hearing the small chamber’s hatch door activate, Miles did his best to drain his face of all emotion and present an air of neutrality and disinterest. As far as he knew, Archive still considered him to be an ego-morph; he thought it best to continue that assumption. He flashed a blank-looking face in Anna’s direction. She nodded that she understood the need to continue the pretence they’d begun while still on Earth.

  The door folded outward and a small man propped himself in the doorway.

  “My apologies,” he bowed his head slightly, “Pressing circumstances prevented me from attending you sooner. I am Dr. Chen and I humbly welcome you aboard my station.”

  Miles recalled that the name had appeared on the transport authorisation form when they’d flown from Andersen Air Force Base. They’d been aboard Dr. Chen’s plane when they were anaesthetised.

  “Thank you, sir,” Miles responded and, trying not to induce nausea, turned himself through ninety degrees to match the orientation of Dr. Chen. The manoeuvre had the effect of visually shifting Anna back upon the wall, but the action earned him a nod of respect from his host.

  “Mr. Benton, Dr. Bergstrom, I regret there was no time to seek your permission for bringing you aboard.”

  “Huh. Regret,” Anna found her tongue and raised her bandaged hand.

  “Dr. Bergstrom, I had no part in your… treatment.”

  “Treatment?” she almost laughed.

  Dr. Chen appeared to consider her statement for a moment and then nodded to himself before replying.

  “It seems Mr. Pittman’s need for violence did not end with your despicable… torture, Dr. Bergstrom,” he looked at her hand and shook his head gravely, “I have recently learned that Mr. Pittman and Alfred Barnes have killed General Napier, though the exact reason is unclear. We also know that before this, Mr. Pittman closed all access to his survival bunkers in the United States - an action also taken by Alexey Yakovna. They started a global panic, there was no safe place for… anyone. His actions have condemned the population of Earth. I did what I could to bring you both to safety.”

  Although Miles no longer possessed his full ego-morph faculties, he had the feeling that there was something slightly amiss in Dr. Chen’s recount, but he couldn’t identify it.

  “What happened to Douglas Walker?” Anna asked directly, “and his daughter?”

  Again Dr. Chen appeared to consider her question before replying.

  “According to the last, ah, electronic Biomag register, they are both aboard the Node.”

  “But the Node wasn’t finished,” she began, “Even if it had been completed, the structure is not strong enough to protect against - oh…”

  Miles could see that she’d seen something that he hadn’t.

  “Yes,” Dr. Chen confirmed, “It seems that the Node’s Field was prematurely activated, yesterday. They will be safe now.”

  Anna fell silent again, evidently deep in thought.

  “There is still much to be done,” Dr. Chen continued, “The year ahead will require the cooperation of everyone aboard, and I very much hope you will contribute your, ah, expertise.”

  Miles identified the emphasis on the last word as quickly as Anna.

  “What?” Anna said simply.

  “Your field of expertise?” Dr. Chen gave a slight frown, “It will be essential, if we are to keep pace with the Node on its journey.”

  “You want to build a Chronomagnetic Field generator?” Anna asked incredulously, “Here? Aboard the ISS?”

  Dr. Chen nodded.

  Miles now realised the true reason for Anna being brought aboard; Dr. Chen may have acted quickly when the situation on Earth degraded, but his motive to save her had no altruistic perspective.

  “I am aware of everything that Archive held on Dr. Walker’s research,” Dr. Chen clarified, “and your collaborative effort in the creation of the Field inversion equations. I followed the development of the Node’s Field generator schematics -”

  Dr. Chen broke off when he saw that she was shaking her head.

  “Then you should also know how impossible it will be to get -”


  “Dr. Bergstrom,” he raised a hand, almost as though he was allaying her fears, “The components are already aboard.”

  Miles saw a look of confusion sweep across her face.

  “But the tonnage?” she began, “It must have taken weeks to -”

  “Details,” Dr. Chen smiled, “We will discuss the specific schedule when your senses are fully acclimatised. The motion sickness patches do work, they just need time. Now, Mr. Benton.”

  He turned to face Miles.

  “When we grounded my plane at the shuttle launch site, there was no time to search for your lost injector case - you must now be several hours behind in your regular dose. I’m pleased to offer you this replacement. You’ll find it fully stocked.”

  He held out a round-cornered silver case.

  Miles knew what is was, but for the sake of appearances he took it and stored it in a pocket.

  “Thank you,” Miles replied as mechanically as possible.

  “Please, Mr. Benton,” he smiled, “You must not feel embarrassed on our part, we know that ego-morphs must administer regular doses, in order to continue their dedicated work. Please, I insist. Use the case now.”

  Miles knew that if his ego-morph deprogramming was discovered, then he may become worthless to Dr. Chen and then find himself on the wrong side of an airlock door. If the deception was to be maintained, Miles knew he couldn’t refuse.

  He removed the silver case from his pocket.

  He’d been clear of the metathene’s influence for many months. His intellect hadn’t diminished, he’d just become a little slower to draw connections between tangential pieces of information.

  He opened the case, exposing the short vials of pale, whiskey-coloured liquid, and a place to rest his finger. He recalled that the small mechanism in the case was designed to prick his finger and the digital display would respond with a metathene saturation level.

  This knowledge and these actions belonged to the person he used to be, not the man he was now. Yet he knew he must continue; Dr. Chen’s knowledge of the metathene protocol was obviously quite thorough.

  He removed a single vial and loaded it onto the case’s injector mount, then pressed the flat side of the case against his thigh. He knew the words and actions that came next; the words that were supposed to bring solace after committing questionable acts, the actions that would perpetuate the chain of dependence.