The Golden Circuit (The Smith Chronicles) (25 page)

Franz Welland flicked the switch at the trans
mitter.

The Zip was off the air.

And, this time, for good.

The Froome had arrived in Muhaze and had already destroyed the Airbase. Their little ruse had worked, much to Jon-7’s surprise. They’d then moved on, into the city, bombing the Sports Stadium after stupidly mistaking it for the central TAPCON buildings - due to Budgie mucking up his co-ordinates (i.e. holding the map the wrong way round). Luckily, there was no game on there today, sparing roughly 100,000 Muhazian lives (they liked their sport) and they were now busy bombing the
actual
TAPCON offices. After a few minutes, they had levelled the buildings and all connecting TAPCON transportation units.

“Right, Froome!” yelled an over-excited Jon-7
into his radio. “On to the next target!”

“And what is the next target, Mr. 7?” inquired Lapwing.

“Um… Er…” He hadn’t thought of one yet, typical Jon-7. “Not sure, hang on…”

“Don’t worry, Mr. 7,
we
have one already,” said Grisshum. “And it’s in our sites now, sir.”

“Oh
, yes, very good, Grisshum! What is it?”

“You! It’s you, 7!” he replied, with
delight, and began to laugh.

Then, on his headset, Jon-7 heard yet more laughter.

After a few seconds, it began to increase in its intensity. And now, everyone was laughing at him! All 40 of the Froome’s members, laughing at him - and at his expense! The worms had turned at last.

Even Budgie began to join in from the co-pilot seat: “Hur, hur, hur!” he went.

“Shut it, Budgie, you dunce! Don’t you realise what they’re going to -”

But Jon-7 never finished the sentence. Instead, his V-wing proceeded to make a beautiful, flaming arc over the city before finally exploding in a massive fireball on the roof of the Balmaha Centre. It served as a wonderful opening spectacle for what happened next: Out from behind the clouds, came the mighty Krashaon
… and everything stopped.

The people of Muhaze looked up at the magnificent craft, and stared in wonder.

The remaining Froome V-wings stopped their bombing, and stared in wonder.

David Sempre, had he not been cryogenically frozen, would have stared in wonder. He would have forgotten his many personal issues and stared at the pure, exhilarating beauty in front of his screwed-up, tortured visage, and rejoiced, that, somewhere in the cosmos, there still existed a race of individuals who valued peace, who valued thought, who valued process, who valued the universe and all things that existed within it. Who did not harbour a destructive urge to bomb all and sundry. Who did not want to crush, torture, poke and destroy every last living creature in existence. Who wanted to synchronise itself with life - and live! Live, drain it, live!

The Muhazians started to loot.

“Oh, fire!” said Janeee.

The Froome began to scarper.

“Oh, good!” said Jon-7, from his parachute.

The Argon arrived and landed in Muhaze Parc.

“Oh, no!” said the Muhazians.

The Pan arrived and landed in Muhaze Parc.

“Oh, thank you, Herra!” said Tamashito, running towards his wife and children. “Now I can begin to live!”

12:17 - Tuesday, July 31, 2187 (Muhaze Parc, Muhaze, Tapi-36)

“Dr. Gössner!” shouted Ng. “The muidog’s flat-lining, we’re going to lose her!”

“Give me 200cc of metabolic disorder serum
, nurse.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Ng.

Tina injected the serum into the dog’s neck but there was no response.

“Apply shock pads to the chest, let’s see if we can get the heart back.”

Billy Ng raced around the operating table to the resuscitation equipment. He applied some gel to the defibrillator pads then handed them across to Dr Gössner. She readied herself over Spoolu’s chest.

“10V, Ng. Now!”

Blaaaapsth!

Billy Ng checked the readings. “Nothing, ma’am.”

“Again, Ng. Again!”

Blaaaapsth!

“She’s not responding, Doctor.”

Spoolu’s flatlining heartbeat
continued, and, after several more unsuccessful attempts Dr. Gössner stopped and looked across at Billy Ng.

“I think we’ve lost her, Ng,” said Gössner.

“No! No! My Spoolu!” cried Zanthu. He sank to his knees, hiding his face in his hands.

Mikita knelt down and put her arm around him. He accepted the comfort. “It’s OK, Zanthu. Please do not feel ashamed to cry. When I lost Marta, I cr
ied for weeks.”

“I am sorry for your dog, Mikita,” blubbed Zanthu.

“And I, for Spoolu.”

“Wait, Mikita,” Zanthu said, with sudden enthusiasm. “
You must try!”

“Try? Try what?”

“To heal her. To heal my Spoolu!”

“But Zanthu, how can I -”

“You must use the Golden Circuit. Like my brother. Yes?”

“It’s not the same, Zanthu. I am not your brother. I can’t control what it does!”

“Please, Mikita, you must. Just try. For me?”

‘
For me’… How can I resist him?
thought Mikita.
But it could go horribly wrong!

Mikita, in her heart of hearts, knew that she needed to put aside her doubts and fears. Someone she cared about,
deeply cared about, was asking for her help. She needed to trust herself, just this once. Take a chance and suffer the consequences without regret.

Have some faith in your abilities, Mikita. Do it for Zanthu’s sake, if not your own
.
Spoolu is already lost, how much harm can I do?

“OK, Zanthu. I will try,” she said, biting down hard on her lip and summoning what little courage she had left.

“Thank you,” said Zanthu. “Thank you, Mikita.”

Mikita went over to the muidog.
The poor thing, just lying there… And the pups! I’d almost forgot about the pups!

Such responsibility
! It weighed her down, as she tried to clear her mind.

“We don’t have long, Mikita,” said Dr. Gössner. “Whatever it is Zanthu thinks you can do, you’d better do it
, quickly.”

Mikita nodded and closed her eyes.

What did I focus on with Hanoi? It was working before the agents came. It was really working! The flame? No… Oh, it’s such a blur, it all happened so fast!

Then
Mikita remembered: her parents’ deaths.

She thought hard, tried to feel the same emotions she’d had when Jameson came to tell her about her mother. A tightness came across her chest and an irritation, like an itch, began beneath her stomach. These were the beginnings, she recognised them easily
, now. Warmth radiated upwards throughout her stomach as the Golden Circuit began to flow through her body. She let it come, and embraced the pain that went with it. She thought of her mother, Kaori and her father, Ichiro - but then found her mind beginning to wander and her control of the Circuit slipped away from her. She'd started to absently mull over her fathers’ identities - Jameson, Ichiro - Ichiro, Jameson. She lost contact with the Golden Circuit and the blazing agony receded.

Mikita! For Herra’s sake, concentrate!

She looked at Zanthu.

Oh, fire...

He was looking at her with such trust and belief, such… love.

Zanthu smiled, as if her thoughts were his.

Mikita closed her eyes again and focused on her feelings for Zanthu, and his love for Spoolu. Her thoughts on this were surprisingly untroubled, it was something she found easy to embody. This time, she was concentrating fully, without her mind creating those annoying distractions. Almost immediately, she felt the Circuit rushing up into her. It came so intensely that she had to strain hard to balance herself against the energy as it surged forth. She placed her hands on Spoolu’s chest. Her arms began to shine with the bronze light as it passed down her arms to her hands. From there, it moved steadily onto Spoolu, cocooning her with its healing force. Mikita’s body was shaking as she immersed herself in thoughts of love. Her body felt like it was moving outward with great speed through a vast, darkened area, as if travelling through space, the stars trailing their wakes of light behind them as she journeyed onwards. She'd entered into a kind of hallucinogenic dream state, a higher stage in the channelling of the Golden Circuit. Then, through a haze, she could see Florina and Gildan on Plaateux-5. They were outside, by a lake. The sun was shining, a light breeze blowing. They were talking to children. Teaching them. The children looked of all ages, from very young to their early twenties. They were surrounded in a hazy glow of ecru, saffron and amber. Florina and Gildan were likewise enveloped by the colour gold. Mikita was watching them as they worked. Their hues, their shades, matching their gifts and their abilities to control the power source. The children were so happy, even when they seemed to make mistakes in their lessons. They didn't appear be experiencing the pain she was. Though now, when she thought about it, she didn't have any pain either. It was gone! Only the primal essence of the Circuit could be felt, the warm, healing force of golden light. Florina looked over at her and met Mikita’s gaze. “Mikita, open your eyes, and see what you have done.” Her vision was blurred but she could see Dr. Gössner at the heartrate machine. She could see Zanthu looking intently at Spoolu, then at her. He was smiling. She could see Billy Ng helping Tina, then pointing at something on his tablet. She could see her hands glowing that beautiful colour and then Spoolu moving her head to look up at her. She was alive! Spoolu was actually alive! Mikita felt her knees buckle and her head fall backwards. Then felt Zanthu’s strong arms behind her, as she dropped like a stone.

When Mikita awoke, Spoolu was licking her face.

“Hey! What the -?  Spoolu! Oh, she looks wonderful!”

“Yes, she does, and so do you, Mikita,” said Zanthu. He lent over her and kissed her on the brow. “I can never thank you enough. For what you have done for my people. You have saved the last species; the last animals of Baal-500. There are no more left, except Spoolu and her babies. You are very special. A special person.”

Zanthu was looking at her. Mikita had a feeling he was about to say something important. Something potentially life-changing. She was right.

“Mikita. I have something to ask you.”

“Yes, Zanthu? What is it?”

“Please, will you come with me on the Krashaon? Will you come with me, on our next journey?”

“Um, I, er…”

“Will you do me the honour? Will you? For me?”

Oh
, fire…‘For me’… Those words, again!
Mikita’s mouth made the beginnings of the word ‘yes’ but found her lips moving forwards and the word ‘no’ sounding like a little bell in her heart ringing the end. The end of something magical.

“I can’t Zanthu. I can’t go with you. I’m so sorry.”

Zanthu nodded. He understood. “Mikita, I…”

Mikita shushed him.

They kissed again and Mikita’s heart fluttered like a qi-bird given a new breath of life. Then, in her mind, she watched it flying away - forever.

12:2
1 - Tuesday, July 31, 2187 (Muhaze Airbase, Muhaze, Tapi-36)

Quince and Mitchell were watching the destruction of Muhaze on a big wall-mounted scr
een in their underground bunker near the TAPCON airbase. The Froome had destroyed the hangars, the starships and the headquarters - all of it, now gone. But the Specialists were safe. Their bunker was completely bomb proof.

“It’s not going very well out there, is it, Miss Quince?”

“No, Mr. Mitchell. In fact, I would say it’s going very badly.”

But despite the poor showing by TAPCON, the Specialists were actually rather pleased with things in general. Their work on the new NIT was complete and all the testing was documented, approved and ratified - by them
selves, of course.

The new NIT was an extension of the original prototype. It was much more powerful, faster
, with a more instantaneous effect and went for every living creature that didn't have the protective chip implanted somewhere in their body.

During the development phase
, Quince and Mitchell would lock themselves into a secure room with two or three NITs, then introduce a small life form such as a rat or mouse. The NITs would fly around and eventually land on Quince or Mitchell. But as the Specialists had had their chips embedded since the beginning of testing process, the NITs would immediately sense this and go off to look for another host. After a matter of seconds the NITs would have flown into the ear canal of the lab rat or mouse and burrowed into its brain. The creature would be dead instantly.

Quince and Mitchell could also set the parameters to control the NIT’s rate of introduction into an environment. Slow
ly or quickly, whatever was required. The invasive species could wipe out a region over a long period of time, or short, depending on the Specialists’ mood.

This was Air Marshal Sashan’s ultimate goal and with it they could
annihilate all living things across the galaxy. They only had to send a ship to a planet, release the NITs and soon it would be eradicated of all known life. But Sashan was dead (really dead, this time) so he would never see his dream realised.

“Well, Mr. Mitchell,” said Quince. “It looks like the ‘good guys’ have won.”

“Indeed, Miss Quince. It would appear to be so. But, really, are we so bad?” replied Mitchell, with a mock frown.

“Oh, yes. We’re bad, Mr. Mitchell. We are
very
bad. We are the baddest, bad guys in the whole of Badville!” said Miss Quince, badly losing herself in her badness.

“Oh-ho, Miss Quince! Steady on there, you’ll have one of your turns!”

“Ahem, sorry, Mr. Mitchell. You’re right. Pardon me. What were we doing again?”

“Well,
I
was about to do this,” said Mitchell, picking up Sashan’s ‘Manual For Solar System Domination’.

He tore it in half (
it was not that thick, in truth, more like a pamphlet than a proper manual) and threw it into the wastebasket.

“Now, that’s got rid of that little irritant. Let’s see, then… W
e were contemplating the introduction of the new NITs into the Tapi-36 bio-region, were we not, Miss Quince? What is your opinion? Shall we proceed?”

At that precise moment they heard a distant explosion reverberating through the subsurface.

“Ah-ha, that will be TAPCON Towers, Miss Quince,” said Mitchell, with a grin.

“Indeed it would,” replied Quince, the corners of her mouth beginning to curl. “It would appear that Bigsby has been shut down
, thus triggering the detonation process. Probably Tamashito, he’s very clever you know.”

“Oh
, yes, he is very, very clever.”

“
Indeed. But he’s not as clever as us, is he, Mr. Mitchell?”

“Oh, goodness me, no. Nowhere near, Miss Quince.”

“So then, what shall we do? Shall we let the NITs loose?”

They thought on it together, f
or a moment.

“How about we toss a coin to decide?” offered Mitchell.

“Oh, yes. How exciting!”

“Or play some dice? Whoever wins gets to choose?”

“Oh, yes, let’s do that! But wait! Who’s dice are they, Mr. Mitchell? Herra’s, or ours?” Quince was doing one of her ‘look at me, I’ve just said something outrageously funny’ smiles.

“Why, ours, of course
, Miss Quince… Oh, wait! I see what you mean! Oh, yes, very good! ‘Herra’s dice’. Oh, my, that’s got me now! Ha, ha, ha!”

“Ha, ha, ha!” went Quince.

“Ha, ha, ha!” went Mitchell.

“Ha, ha, ha!” went Quince, again.

And on, and on they went with their laughing. So much so, that they quite forgot about Muhaze, about the Codes and Mikita, about the Froome, Sempre and Sashan. Just as they, in turn, had forgotten about the Specialists. And they were still laughing long after they’d forgotten to toss their coins or roll their dice.

Laughs like certified lunatics.

Laughs like certified lunatics escaping the asylum.

Laughs like certified lunatics escap
ing the asylum and running amok.

But not
…

Quite
…

Yet.