System Seven (63 page)

The Pure drew him in
and away, surrounding him in darkness like an embrace. Silence bloomed, it’s
silky absence comforting as continuity and identity reformed. Something
intimate occurred, the nature of which he couldn’t fathom and felt only as an
afterthought when he emerged in the virgin expanse of Saoghal. Cathbad and the
Council materialized once more under his control.

Pawns, placed back on
the chessboard.

Madness! What the hell was that?
Cathbad asked.
Where did you go? What did you see?

I’m not sure. Not what I’d planned.
The space had been unreal, so basic and
fundamental that it might have encompassed Eden as well as Saoghal and Raon. He
hoped not Eden. Heaven ought not be accessible by alien beings. To be adept in
that space would put him on par with the Factions, at least.

Cathbad bristled.
Change this, we’re exposed.

Bastion and the
Council pried and pulled in the effort to escape, sometimes savagely. Otherwise
he felt alone – no korjé, no aliens, and no God. If the Factions could monitor
him, they did so quietly. Across a distance that challenged perception,
mankind’s consciousness burbled like a stream, undulating and flowing towards
an uncertain future. He cast in the other directions and felt unlimited
expanse.

This is safe as anywhere to wait. No need to
draw attention with elaborate creation. I trust we’re here for a reason
.

Cathbad disagreed.
Saoghal is a container, you just proved that.
They’ll scan and find us. Something, add something to shield us
.

Cathbad’s worry alone
made waves. Johan settled in to pace the existence of the realm. After the
chaos, Saoghal’s fabric became apparent. He entered the now-seen weave, lacing
through and saturating it like the space between DNA helixes. He became an
antenna, sensitive to the footprint of approaching meta. A web, and he the
spider tending it.

You have something ready if they intrude?
Cathbad asked.

Aye. In a dash.

The old druid offered
an affirmative vibe, impressed and appeased.
Ten souls floating free. Nine with expiration dates long past. We
shouldn’t have much of a wait.

One would think.

Pond-smooth moments
passed. Cathbad broke the surface.
I’ve
always felt there are others, in and beyond our galaxy and this or other
realms. I’m left with the certainty now. Do me a favor. See if you can reach
them. Be smart about it. See if there is a species that will intervene fairly,
with universal justice and morality. Find someone to help. If not spiritually,
then at least physically. Free the nations from their grip. Take down the ivory
towers. Give man a chance to evolve.

Didn’t you try before? To reach out and find
them? Didn’t Pons?

Aye, but we’re not you. I feel the trackways
now. They tell me you might succeed.

If the Pure were what
they said they were…

I wish I could see those trackways.

You will, when it’s most important that you do.
Be open to what’s around you. They’re inlaid in every moment, in every
situation. The strong ones stand out, thick with potential. Learn to read them,
learn well the path they speak and they will serve you.

Johan drifted in the
memory of the pale yellow face with its black eyes and slitted nose. The first visions
of apocalyptic fire had come true. They had been trying to guide him and had
just protected him from whatever was hunting in the chaos. He would try contact
again when it felt right. Learning to sense the trackways, even possible
futures, would be invaluable. If the Faction held sway over both the Comannda
and the Korda, the future would be filled with as much conflict as anything
seen so far. He wanted to believe some in the Comannda wanted to rule in a more
civilized way, and if so, learning of the Faction might create a bridge between
the groups. Maybe even help form an Earth faction to defend itself from the
Owners. There was no way of knowing yet.

Time passed and again
Cathbad surfaced, this time with a softer vibe.
I am not sure what you have in mind, but it truly is my time to go. I
feel it as a certainty.

Johan didn’t respond.

The trackways have led here. A safe passage to
Gwynvyd is all I ask. I’ll deliver the Council myself. I’ve felt your binding
technique. I can do it.

The Council pried in
odd ways, still trying for release. Johan pressed them into silence. Saoghal
lay timeless around them, rich with unformed potential. A soul could get used to
the peace.

Cathbad sighed.
Too long I’ve been in this world. I don’t
want another’s body. I don’t want to extend. I want to go home. It’s time.

He felt a movement,
then. A stirring. Johan cast out but found nothing of meta.

What is it?
Cathbad asked.

The stirring came
again, this time recognizable and totally unexpected: a wind. Something from
Raon, felt in Saoghal. Indeed it was wind, stirring to rise and fall as natural
as any wind on Earth.

Eden?
Cathbad’s hope stirred its own kind of wind.

A scent carried in,
that of ancient forests and wet bog lands. Johan continued to cast around but
failed to find the source. A bird cried from a great distance. Then a drum
beat; faintly in the rise of the wind, louder as it fell.

Bodrán. The war drums.
Cathbad manifested a younger self. Leather
armor laid across a barrel chest. He wore a brown beard braided with palm
reeds. Muscular arms bulged with the paint of a clan. Gone was the aged face.
He stood as a young warrior in the time before Awakening.

Johan cringed at the
impression he made in the mesh.
What are
you doing?

More drums sounded and
then a wail of bagpipes joined in a sweeping march song. The darkness of
Saoghal split and white light poured across his sense net. Nothing of meta – it
was pure Eden, where human finality met the beginnings of eternity. A dirt path
formed. Green bog-moss and vivid lichens grew outward from it. Rain fell in
shimmering drops from unseen trees. Welcome shouts crossed the span, familiar
voices from ages past.

Cathbad pulled his
gaze from the portal. In his right hand he bore a sword and in his left he
gripped long hair attached to the head of Bastion. Embodied within it were the
souls of the council.

I am called. The rest is for you to see
through, Gerrit. Go with the Lord of the Wood. Follow the Lady of the Stars,
lad. Trust in yourself. The world has a chance now, that much I know. Just
don’t let the families split.

In the shimmering
space between them was the need for Johan to release him.

Are you sure?
The question was more for himself than for the druid.

Aye, lad. You’re made for this. Trust in that.

Cathbad lifted the
severed head high.
Ní síocháin go
saoirse!
No peace ‘til freedom!
He
turned and ran along the path until the light enveloped him.

The release happened of
its own, as natural as death and with the same pain of loss. In the emptiness
the drums subsided and the calls faded. For long moments, the peace and beauty
of the light glowed, as if waiting to heal his pain. The rain drops fell like
tears. Johan felt the tug of indecision when two figures emerged from the light
upon the path.

Mother. Father.

Johan manifested as
himself and took steps closer.

In their eyes was
pride and love and no small amount of longing. The draw of Gwynvyd draped
itself around him. He held his place and shared their gaze. The sense of
belonging made the distance between them painful. Choice lay bare, untethered
to any concept or obligation. A few more steps would lead to the embrace of his
parents and to the fact of peace and untold adventure beyond. Earth and
humanity would continue without him, as ever. The scales of decision tipped
heavily towards taking those steps.

As an anchor hitting
bay waters, Anki’s intentions splayed across memory, rooting him to the
spot.
I want to try with you, to push the change forward. As far as it can
go.

That spirit still
owned his soul. It called him back, calmed the fire of impulse, and dipped the
scales in reverse. What lay before him was timeless and inevitable, best he
knew. Gwynvyd and his parents would wait. They looked on with renewed pride as
he made his decision.

I cannot yet. There is too much left to do.

With a final nod of
approval, they turned and walked back into the light. The portal withdrew its
vision and sealed itself, leaving blackness in its wake. The wind blew for a
time as if keeping him company then faded into the eternal night of Saoghal.

He had never felt so
alone.

• • •

Terenzio reached up
and advanced the song on his phone. Again he reprimanded himself for not
removing the annoying song from his playlist. The clock ticked closer to
two-thirty. Another long overnight session with the stiff. Little Simon, the
last feline of the litter not yet adopted out, lay curled on the guy’s chest.
Not the warmest spot around but it wasn’t moving, either.

While glad for his
gift of endurance with the life system, the work was far from glamorous. He
eyed the face of his ‘cousin from America’. Had to be someone important. Auntie
Cristina wouldn’t say if he was involved in the so-called terrorist hunt but it
seemed likely. As long as they didn’t bust in on them, he didn’t care. Thoughts
of achieving station in New York or Los Angeles made the long night easier to
endure.

The kitty woke and
raised its head, alerted to something.

Terenzio paused the
player to listen. He stood and went to the window to peer towards the street.
Seeing and feeling nothing, he turned back and jumped. The stiff was staring
back at him, petting Simon. A shadow of meta emerged and he knew he’d been
violated. He stopped the life flow.

“Man, why’d you pull
that?”

“Relax,” Johan sat up,
careful with the kitten. “I just wanted to see who was taking care of the
‘stiff’ while I was gone. Thank you. Most seriously.”

“Yeah, okay. I gotta
get Aunt Cristina. Stay put.” He strode from the room, put off by having been
snuck up on. Embarrassment leaked like water from a burlap bag.

Johan petted the
critter in his lap. “I am a bit stiff, actually.” He chuckled. “Time to catch
up with Austin, hm? Make sure the sand men backed off like they said they
would.”

The kitten purred and
closed its eyes and so did he.

There are two kinds of people: those who say to God, “Thy
will be done,” and

those to whom God says, “All right, then, have it your way.”

- C.S. Lewis

The whir of steel
cables, the blur of red shaft lights, and the shadows of the cars coming up at
him made the descent a treacherous, sensory experience. Elevator doors opened
and gunfire erupted from above and below. Rounds struck, sometimes pushing him
off balance. He dodged into other shafts, weaving to avoid threats.

He flew past an open
elevator door only to see a trooper leap into the shaft, firing an automatic
weapon. A round struck his shoulder and nano-fiber cap to slap his head at an
angle. Dots burst in his vision and he shouted in pain. His rifle clipped a
cable guide and spun him wildly. He recovered only to take another round in the
leg. He couldn’t focus well enough to act. Frustration took hold and–

“Fucking stop!”

He froze mid-air and
deployed a bubble as he had while over Tokyo. The free falling troop smacked
into the quantum brick wall. Two floors down, muzzle flashes lit the shaft. He
flung the dead troop at them. Flashes from above grew brighter as more soldiers
leapt into the shafts and fired.

“Mother
fucks!
”

Down he went, nudging
the kamikazes into the walls or cables. The bubble failed and he let it go. Two
yellow lights at the bottom of the shaft glowed faintly. He concentrated on
them and burst downward, slowing at the last second to land on his feet. He
stepped between the shafts to avoid bodies punching into concrete. One after
another they exploded in blood and bared bone.

With an effort, he
formed another shield and tore open an elevator door. A barrage of gunfire
erupted from a room full of guards. He spun out of the way, losing the shield,
and was almost crushed by another falling troop. Blood sprayed his cap and
through the eye holes to speckle his eyelids. He pressed himself into a corner
of the shaft. In that moment, the reality of exhaustion dawned. The endless
supply of potential had gone dry, almost as if revoked.

More rounds punched
through the closed elevator doors. They were fishing for him.

“God damn it.” He
stuck his hand in his vest pocket and pulled out the Semtex slab and detonator.
He readied the detonator before sending the explosives out the open elevator
door and high over their heads.

The first shouts were
his signal. He gathered himself and once more turtled with a thick shield and
pressed the detonator button. The explosion flashed in silence as sound waves,
metal, and concrete bounded off his shell, pinning him in his corner.

The shield fell and a
headache took its place. The air tasted of acrid chemicals and death. He
listened but heard nothing but the echo of the blast in the caverns below.
Carefully, he stepped around the mangled remains of elevator doors and over
bloodied concrete blocks to see the hole blown in the floor and ceiling. Torn
bodies lined the walls of the room. The disturbed waters of the reservoir cast
light and shadows on the carnage around him.

He stumbled and caught himself near the edge.
Peering over, he saw the waves and chunks of concrete at the bottom.

That was close. Sorry about Javier. I wasn’t
sure you’d make it, either.

Johan’s presence felt
good. “Did you get them?”

Yes, I got them. And yes, Cathbad has gone on.

He shuddered in
relief. It had been worth it.

“And my dad?”

I’m sorry. Javier was seen passing on but I
don’t know about your dad. He wasn’t visible to me when I was set loose. I’ll
try to find out, though, I promise.

The room seemed to dim
at the news. Not again... he needed to know, needed closure or hope. “Maria’s
back in charge?”

Don’t know yet. You have a minute at most.
Soldado’s messing with the elevators but they’re coming down the stairs now.

“What about the meta
scrambler?”

Never mind that. Get back to Meng. You’re more
important. Can you do it?

He was exhausted but
not completely. The bullet to the skull cap had started an ache that was
getting worse, adding to the issue of focus. Dots framed his peripheral vision.
He wondered what internal bleeding of the brain felt like.

“Yeah, I can get
there.”

The clang of a door
and boots on stairs startled him.

Get gone then.

“Going.”

Clearing the cavern,
he made his way back through the circular shafts up to the utility room and
into the hall. The goggles still worked but glitched every time he looked too
far up. He used the rifle’s feeder beam again, this time with the rifle’s
safety off. Old-fashioned firepower would have to augment his defense.

He opened the door to
the loading area and was met with silence. He turned up the feeder beam and
scanned the entire space and saw nothing. He waited for Meng to crack the
hatch. Johan’s presence had faded abruptly, making him wonder what was
happening in the world.

“Um... hello?”

Walking along the wall
towards the main tunnel, he wondered if Meng leaving was related to Johan’s
leaving, too. Closer to the tunnel, sounds echoed faintly at first, then grew
until it was clear something was coming from the direction of the base.

“Johan, you wanna tell
me what’s going on?” he muttered while running to the edge of the tunnel.

A light grew with the
sound.

“Ah fuck.”

He bolted back towards
the door, half running, half flying. The approaching train spoiled his night
vision so he turned it off. Looking back, he saw the cylindrical car arrive in
the loading space. It turned just as he reached the doorway, flooding him in
light.

A loud clank sounded –
the door locking. Rows of overhead lights suddenly glowed as power was routed
to the wing.

Panic sent him
gathering potential. Still exhausted, his mind resisted. He fished for a C4
door banger from his kit and pressed it to the door, triggering the timer. It
went off with a flash and deafening pop. A pull on the handle showed the lock
still engaged.

“Damn it.”

A hiss sounded from
the train car and its door opened. Troops fanned out, their rifle beams
flickering in his direction.

He flew then, fast and
to the right. Gunfire followed him, with a round striking his lower thigh. He
shouted in pain and immediately raised the rifle to return fire, pissed off
more than scared until he actually heard the rounds slicing the air near his
head. The rifle spit out a stream of bullets at the troops. He circled around
to put the car between them. The tunnel was close so he darted into it, heading
towards the exit. The tunnel lights were now lit, creating a dizzying
peripheral effect as he flew. The spots in his vision grew bigger and began to
pulse in time with the pain in his head. Only a few hundred yards later, focus gave
way and he fell to the tunnel floor, skidding to a stop.

Hang on, help is coming.

Johan’s message only
vaguely registered. Completely spent, he saw the train’s lights enter the
tunnel and begin to accelerate towards him. The grid had gone solid, dry of
potential, as unyielding as it had been growing up.

“Get my core, man. I
don’t want to leave yet. Kaiya needs me.”

The lights grew
blinding, becoming the white field in his first out of body experience. He
couldn’t leave now, couldn’t avoid the impact. The pain would have to be
endured–

A booming crash
reverberated in his skull and the lights died. Sparks and flames receded at
high speed as the train reversed down the tunnel with a screeching report –
pushed by the cloaked ship.

You can keep your core. I’ve got enough on my
hands.

“Jesus Christ,” he
breathed. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Soldado’s been cut off from the network and
they’re about to bomb your only exit. Get clear now.

Moments later, space
split open to reveal the dim interior of the ship. Arabian Meng waved him in.

“Let’s go, inside.”

He managed to stand
and clamber into the ship. The hatch closed and Meng flew on. He fell into the
seat and strapped himself in, ignoring the throbbing headache. “Who’s in
charge?”

“Of them? No telling.
They know we’re here. I wrecked another car near the exit.”

He prepared the
ultra-wideband radar, setting it for maximum power but not turning it on.

Sortie of F15’s scrambled out of Khalid are headed
your way. Set up for air to ground. Get the hell out of there.

“Okay, okay,” he said.
“Meng, let me have the controls.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Hang on.”

He engaged the radar and adjusted settings to
focus on the end of the tunnel. The train car wreckage showed clearly. “Shields
up.” Eyeballing it, he slid the disc forward and shot down the tunnel.

“Damn, man.”

Speed indications read
mach 1.2.

“I got it.”

He slowed at the last
second and rammed into the debris, driving it into the sand and against broken
fragments of the rock wall plug. The train car’s framework crumpled until it
fell behind them. They passed into the sandy outer chamber.

Ground forces arriving topside. Maybe laser
spotters.

Austin expanded the
radar. A staggered line of blips indicating incoming aircraft.

Go, full throttle.
Get out
now.

He set the angle to
clear the chamber. Just as he slid the disc forward, all readings stuttered and
shifted. Thermal readings glowed brightly, making the screens a mess. A missile
had struck – and they were still in the chamber. He adjusted the angle once more
but additional missiles exploded, one after another, bouncing the craft around.

“Damn it!” The screens
were a confusing mess.

Beam weapon! They’re firing into the sand. Get
out of there!

“I’m
trying
,” he said, but again found his
trajectory forced into the rock. He killed the thermal layer of the readout to
make the axis gridlines easier to see. He tweaked the stick and jimmied the
disc until the ship rose shot out of the chamber. He slapped it fully forward
and blue sky filled the screen. The blips receded from the radar.

“They tried to seal us
in,” Meng said.

“They almost did.”

Austin took the ship
out of the region. To the east, dusk pressed on the western shores of India. Coastal
lights glowed in miniature.

“What next?” he asked.

“You lay down. Ignore
this. You rest, nothing else.”

“What?”

“Edward’s orders. You
need to rest and recharge. We’re headed to Iran. If I need you, I will ask.”

Despite the action
that followed over Iran and Israel, Austin did fall asleep. He dreamt of a long
and treacherous camel ride across the desert, ending at an oasis where Kaiya
waited. When he went to kiss her, she became another woman, one he didn’t
recognize until she spoke.

“Been waiting for
you,” Maria said.

• • •

Sirens sounded across
the rural countryside. Morning air carried the smells of the lagoon into the
kitchen where the woman sat. The side door was open but blocked by one of the
two guards not dead or gone mad. Tense to the point of shaking, he stood with
weapon ready in his blood-spattered clothing. The other of Xian Shung’s men
stood at the arch to the living room in a similar state. Both kept their backs
to the woman wrapped in the blanket. Both were terrified of the power pouring
from her.

The sirens grew
louder. Somewhere in the house a clock rang the hour.

The woman reached up
to touch the swollen sockets where eyes once rolled. Infection created pockets
of pus that pressed against the severed optic nerve. She rode the pain.

At first she couldn’t believe
they had left. Released, she acted savagely and without reserve, sure a mistake
had been made. The little wench became the powerful witch and drove twenty-two
men to kill one another. The bodies of Xian Shung and his mistresses adorned
the upstairs bedroom where she had artfully arrayed them in death. The revenge
was shallow, localized. Bastion was who she wanted retribution from yet he was
also strangely absent. Team Three said only that she would be kept isolated
until situations stabilized.

Vans belonging to the
local police kicked up gravel upon arrival. Bodies on the front steps would
confirm the caller’s report. The two guards turned against their will and took
aim at one another from across the kitchen. The two shots sounded as one and
they fell to the floor, the last witnesses.

She pulled the blanket
tighter and followed the police in their discovery of the compound’s horrors.