2041 Sanctuary (Let There Be Light) (65 page)

She screamed and lashed out in a fit of grief, and Goodwin grabbed her wrists and pulled her to him.

Half collapsing, she clung to his chest, wracking sobs stealing away her breath.

‘He’s gone,’ Goodwin said, gently rocking her, ‘he’s gone.’

A tremble rippled through Rebecca’s body and she surged up. ‘NO!’ Thrusting him away, her eyes fell on the abject vision of her ward. Another cry of loss escaped her lips and she stumbled to the crystal wall as its light dimmed. Goodwin had no words as Rebecca stroked the surface near to Joseph’s face, her tender touch mere inches away, but separated by the infinite gulf of death.

The crystal’s final glimmer of light ebbed away to nothing and a deep rumble shook the sphinx. The metal pentagram lurched, sinking back beneath the solidifying floor, and in the same moment, Rebecca’s arm sank into the transparent wall.

Crying out, she tried to pull herself free and Goodwin made a grab for her other arm, but his fingers closed on solid crystal.

‘Richard!’ Rebecca stared into his eyes in terror.

Captain Winter rushed to help, but it was too late, the wall had already consumed her entire body.

Her final shriek cut off to silence as the crystal covered her head, its surface creaking and cracking in thickening expansion. Cocooned inside, Rebecca was locked in her final pose, mouth agape in a frozen scream.

The pentagram continued to sink and the captain hauled Goodwin away. ‘Director, we need to go!’

‘No, I won’t leave her!’ Goodwin shrugged Winter off and returned to pound at the wall with his fists.

Without hesitation, the captain brought his armoured hand down on the back of Goodwin’s head, knocking him unconscious. Hoisting him onto his shoulder, Captain Winter ran back the way he’d come and leapt from the vanishing pentagram. Moving past the golden throne and down into the great plaza, the Darklight officer and his team headed back through the giant sphinx and towards safety.

Chapter Eighty Three

Out in the sea of darkness where only the stars shone, a single craft manoeuvred in the vacuum of space. Jets of gas vented as Tyler Magnusson used his final drops of fuel to bring him closer to his target: a dark space station, which floated just ahead, its five arms spinning in slow rotation.

Tyler’s eyes narrowed as he drew nearer. A white emblem adorned the black skin of the mysterious craft:

The space station sported an unusual design. Tyler had seen the concept on paper, but had never imagined it was already operational. The inner core was engineered so it could move independently to its outer arms. This allowed it, when activated, to rotate much faster to produce a strong gravitational effect for those on board. Currently the system was offline and the large central sphere remained in sync with the rest of its structure.

‘This is Pilot Commander Magnusson of the U.S.S.S. Archimedes, do you copy? Over.’

No response. He’d been signalling the stealth space station ever since he’d been within range. The sense of relief he’d felt when he realised he had enough fuel to be able to complete a docking run was immense. But as time had passed and only static greeted his radio calls, his elation had turned to concern. That no one was answering was disconcerting and the silence of his solitary confinement only added to the sense of unease that had built within him. Was there anyone aboard this dark craft? Would it hold enough fuel reserves to take him home? Would he even be able to board it? Tyler remembered the disturbing creation he’d witnessed back on Archimedes, remembered watching his captain die only to see him again, comatose and being transported in some kind of quarantine capsule.

Anger rose within him at the memory while he finalised the sequence to bring his Sabre space-aircraft alongside the enormous bulk of the GMRC’s secret outpost.

Warning messages appeared on his navigation screen. The clamps had failed to gain full purchase and the airlocks hadn’t aligned. He pressed some buttons and overrode the precautions. ‘I’ll have to make an EVA,’ he said to himself. ‘Where did I put those mag-boots?’ He floated through to the rear of the ship. ‘Ah, there you are.’ Picking up his boots he pulled them on and activated the mechanism. The electro-magnets sucked his feet onto the floor with a double clunk.

An alarm from the bridge brought him back to the main console. Two words flashed on-screen.

INCOMING MESSAGE

‘At last.’ He flicked a switch and the screen went black. Seconds later a fuzzy image appeared, accompanied by the crackle of distorted sound.

Tyler stared at the video footage of an empty room before a face appeared and he jerked back, startled.

The man held the camera close, his eyes wild with fear. ‘… it’s too late … do not …’

‘Say again your last,’ Tyler said.

‘… if they knew … never have …’

‘I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up!’ Tyler twisted a dial.

The picture solidified. ‘Whatever you do, do not board this ship. Send no rescue team. It can’t be allowed to get back to the surface!’

‘What can’t?’ Tyler said, alarmed by the scientist’s fervour.

The lights on the space station flickered and died, plunging the man into darkness. ‘It’s here,’ he whispered, his eyes shining silver as the camera adjusted to the dark. He turned round. ‘I hear it … I hear it breathing.’

Horrified, Tyler saw a strange light in the background drift past a doorway. An all too familiar oscillating noise echoed through the speakers and a tingle shot up his spine, causing his hands to shake.

‘Did you see it?’ the man said. ‘The light?’

Tyler put his hands over his ears. ‘No, I—’ He hesitated as his eyes were drawn to a time stamp in the corner of the screen. The message wasn’t live; it had been recorded two weeks before. He reached out a hand and paused the video. His shaking decreased and he breathed deep to try and calm his nerves.
That sound
, he thought,
why did it have to be that sound?
He’d been wondering where the GMRC had taken Project Ares, and now he knew. Not wanting to watch anymore, but knowing he had to, Tyler turned the sound down a fraction and resumed the footage.

‘I don’t have much time,’ the scientist said, ‘if anyone sees this; I beg you, do not continue our research. We should have left it buried in the earth. It’s not a machine, it’s alive. It knows who we are, it—’

A dark figure appeared behind the man, eyes glowing white in the black. Tyler put a hand to his mouth in horror and pointed, but the man was oblivious to the thing behind him. A split second later the video distorted and the apparition vanished. The scientist glanced round before turning back to the camera, his mouth open in a terror-stricken scream. The image flared white and silence fell.

Tyler felt his heart beating loud. The camera adjusted again as the lights in the room powered back up. Nothing could be seen of the man and the rest of room appeared normal, apart from a few objects that drifted through the craft’s microgravity atmosphere.

The recording continued unimpeded until a shadow fell across the camera and a figure floated past heading toward the exit. At first Tyler thought it was the man who’d been speaking, but he realised it was someone else; the hair was close cropped whereas the other man’s had been shoulder length. This new person halted by the doorway and Tyler held his breath as they turned to look back at the camera. Shock hit him as he recognised the man on-screen. It was Bo Heidfield, Captain of the U.S.S.S. Archimedes, the dead captain of U.S.S.S Archimedes.

Bo Heidfield moved out of shot, leaving Tyler standing in stunned silence. After a few minutes of recording the empty room, the camera system switched itself off.

Rewinding the footage, Tyler let it play again before freezing it on Bo Heidfield’s image. It was his captain, all right, but his eyes shone with a blankness that made Tyler shudder.

Switching off the screen, he considered his options. ‘I don’t want to go in there,’ he murmured. ‘If you want to live you’re going to have to,’ he told himself. He rubbed his face vigorously as various scenarios flashed through his mind. Finally, with a sickening certainty, he realised he had no alternative.

In a daze, Tyler moved aft and went about putting on his spacesuit. Once fully attired, he returned to the main console and turned on the ship’s video recorder. He lifted the shield on his helmet and looked into the convex lens. ‘Professor Steiner, I’m sending you this message as I’ve been unable to make direct contact with you since we last spoke. I can only hope it reaches you.’ He paused to gather his thoughts. ‘I have reached the space station, but it seems—’ The lights in the ship flickered and went out and the console died. Tyler swore and flipped switches and turned dials to no effect. The torches on his helmet powered on, sending a narrow beam around the dark cabin.

‘Warning,’ a computer generated voice said, ‘life support will fail in sixty seconds. Fifty-nine – fifty-eight – fifty-seven—’

As Tyler lowered his helmet’s visor, his suit’s systems blazed to life and the self-contained oxygen supply switched on. Releasing his magnetic boots, he floated to the escape hatch and yanked down the red handle. Twisting it sideways, a series of tiny explosions jettisoned the oval panel out into space. He pulled himself through the aperture and looked up to see that the space station had another docking port a hundred feet away. Gauging his trajectory to the ship, he pushed off to glide through the emptiness of space and soon found himself grabbing onto a handrail. He glanced back at his space-aircraft and the dark mass of the Earth and the Sun beyond. There was no going back now. He turned away from the amazing sight to continue his ascent and a minute later he’d reached the airlock.

Like most orbital vehicles, access could be attained via a concealed control panel. Entering a standard NASA access code, Tyler felt panic rise as the words
ACCESS DENIED
appeared on the rectangular display. Trying to think, he recalled another code. Tapping it in resulted in the same message. He tried another and then reverted back to the one he’d tried first. All failed. ‘Think, you fool,’ he said, ‘think!’

A memory from his time on Archimedes popped into his head. He remembered overriding the GMRC’s security when he’d entered their deserted laboratories. A number had appeared on the display. What was it? Tyler willed himself to recall it. It had six digits. He knew that much. Closing his eyes he pictured the scene. A five and an eight.
It had started with a five and an eight!
Tyler entered the first two numbers and found the next two followed on as if by magic, a six and a three. But try as he might, the final two numbers failed to reveal themselves from the vaults of his mind. Praying the entry system allowed multiple entries, Tyler went about entering the first four numbers followed by permutations of the digits zero through nine. After ten minutes a green light indicated he’d found the correct combination. The doors to the airlock slid open and Tyler floated inside before starting the depressurisation procedure.

Sometime later, when the process had completed, all he could think about was what waited for him beyond the door. And the more he delayed, the more horrors his mind conjured up. His whole being screamed at him to flee, but he knew he had nowhere else to go. Taking a deep breath in, Tyler braced himself and opened the inner hatch.

Chapter Eighty Four

NASA Astronaut Tyler Magnusson entered a dark, silent corridor on board the GMRC’s stealth space station. Looking left and then right revealed rows of dim lights that curved out of sight in line with the vessel’s hull.

A distant noise echoed through the ship and Tyler froze. Alert, he listened, but nothing further stirred. His breathing sounded like a freight train, ragged and loud. He looked at the readout on his suit. The atmosphere in the ship was intact, but the temperature had dropped below freezing. ‘The heating must have failed,’ he whispered to himself.

Still feeling terrified and alone, he turned on his suit’s cameras. The one inside his helmet filmed his face while the lens mounted on his shoulder took in his external environment. Whatever was going on here, he had to record his findings. Talking to himself would also alleviate his fear, at least in theory.
I’m just doing another survey
, he told himself,
this is Archimedes and I’m running diagnostics, it’s just another day in the office
. Memories of thousands of hours of simulations stimulated brain and muscle memory alike, returning a thin semblance of calm over the seething turmoil within.

‘This is—’ he wetted his dry lips. ‘This is Pilot Commander Tyler Magnusson, conducting a visual sweep of a deep orbit GMRC space station, designation unknown.’

He completed a three hundred and sixty degree rotation to provide the camera with a view of his surroundings. ‘I have so far been unable to make contact with any of the crew. From the transmitted video message I received prior to entry it could be that all have perished. However, said video indicated someone may still be alive.’ He paused, not wanting to relive what he’d witnessed.
No one would believe me anyway
.