We Float Upon a Painted Sea (37 page)

“I was, but only because they threatened my family...”

“We are aware of your circumstances. We would have shot you otherwise.”

“I still don't understand how an old photograph of Saffron was in Malcolm's satchel?”

The Elves searched the satchel for further items. Finally, a small plastic box was revealed. The seal was broken and a short emission of gas hissed from a pressure release valve. The hooded figure put down the rifle and produced a small gas canister. McIntyre said forcefully,

“What’s that?” The hooded figure sprayed the box and said,

“This type of box is used to store liquid pico-micro processing chips. Once you release the pressure valve, you activate the molecular self assembly and solar carbon picotubes are formed, but it can only be triggered by the person who designed it.” The other figure said,

“How is this possible if the Professor is dead, presumed missing?”

“It’s DNA activated and this bottle contains DNA from the daughter.”  McIntyre turned to Bull and said,

“What happened to the old man?” Bull shrugged his shoulders,

“He scampered off when these two appeared. He was a bit odd.”

A computer tablet was produced and a finger directed Bull’s attention to a digital image said,

“This is the man you left?” Bull nodded his head. The figure continued, “So you left him but you didn’t forget to take his satchel?”

“I was already carrying his satchel when the lifeboat came by. It was riding up and the strap was… Everything happened so quickly and before I knew it, I was in the sea.” The hooded figure ignored Bull’s lamenting tale.

“You couldn’t have saved him then?”

“Malcolm was unconscious when I got to the life raft. I couldn’t even save myself. If it hadn’t been for Andrew…” Bull stopped for a moment, contemplating the effort Andrew made to save his life after the raft had been destroyed in the storm and how he had behaved towards him subsequently to that.

“His name wasn’t Malcolm, said the figure.” His name was Professor Earl Burke. His daughter is Saffron Burke otherwise known as Saffron Wilton. Do you understand now?”

Bull was dumbstruck. He gazed at the image of Professor Burke, attempting to see a family resemblance. The image disappeared and was replaced by virtual images of blueprints and digitalised drawings. Bull remained frozen to the floor of the cleit. McIntyre’s voice cracked through the silence. He said,

“This might not be the best time to tell you this but a corvette has arrived in the bay and it’s equipped with a number of drones. They destroyed a Russian research vessel with the first wave so they obviously don’t care who or what gets in their way. They will want no witnesses. I’ve got a feeling that what ever happened here, someone in the Government desperately wants to cover it up, and if anyone gets in their way, they’ll end up as part of the wave’s collateral damage.”

Bull looked out of the cleit and his head began to spin. Towards the escarpment he could see the old man standing in the distance. His body started to shimmer and then pixellate in the sun. Bull shook his head, as if trying to recalibrate his eyes. Bull tried to get up but his leg muscles felt weak and he was unable to force himself up. He pointed out of the cleit towards the cliff and finally he wailed, “The old man? Something is not right.” When he looked around he was gone. McIntyre who was now helping one of the figures decipher the contents of the leather satchel. He leaned closer to Bull and said,

“Forget him. Fucking old queer hawk anyway.”

“But he knows where Saffron is hiding.” Suddenly, McIntyre said,

“Shite!” You better take a look.” McIntyre was now in full control of the computer, dragging and dropping virtual folders from the graphics display tablet to the wall of the cleit. He turned to Bull and said, “It’s not the ship or the GM they are after - it’s who may be carrying this satchel and more precisely this box of pico-micro processing chips.” Bull refused to leave his trance. Finally he said,

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. What are you saying? This is a fucking nightmare?” Bull began pinching himself as if to try and wake up from a bad dream. McIntyre’s face was etched with a seriousness Bull had not yet witnessed. McIntyre said,

“There’s no time to explain. We have the virus. We need to take it to the Elfs.”

“This is some drug induced hallucination. I’m sure of it now.”

“What are you talking about laddie? The E.L.F. can use this.”

“And after we find the elves, can we meet up with the dwarfs and drink ale at the House of Elrond?” One of the figures folded his hood back, turned to them and said,

“We are the Earth Liberation Front. We
are
the Elfs. I am Erurainon and this is Inwë.”

“Where are the rest of your team,” said McIntyre.

“Freeing your crew from the MoDs. Look, we have little time before the Prophylaxis Trident satellites come back online and when they do, they will surely find all of us, so your co-operation would be most appreciated.” Erurainon looked at Bull and said,

“Go and find the old man.” Bull got to his feet and crawled out of the cleit. McIntyre tried to stop him but stumbled as he got to his feet. He shouted after Bull,

“Hey Big man, it’s not safe to be outside, you need to stay hidden. It’s not safe! They’ll be looking for us.” When McIntyre looked outside, Bull was running towards the cliff edge. There was a swell of concern bulging in his heart for Bull, but also a resolve to bring events to a satisfactory conclusion. He recalled his Coast Guard vessel being shot at by the military when he arrived at the Rockall Trench. He felt sure he had been hit, there was a burning sensation in his shoulder, but when he regained consciousness he was back at his pod with only a severe headache and memory loss to boast about. The episode had made him disillusioned with the system. On his next trip out he had come across the Mother Earth and after a long discussion with the Captain he had decided to enlist with the Green Movement. McIntyre said,

“So what do we know?” Inwë also removed his hood and stared into McIntyre’s eyes looking for a reason not to trust him. Inwë said,

“Professor Burke was working on a programme called
Silent Wave
while in the employment of the MoDs. It involved creating a pulse by exploding a nuclear device drilled into the ocean bedrock?”

“So St Kilda has been selected as a testing ground? That would explain a few things.”

McIntyre read the ELF files regarding the MoDs attempts to extract a mole inside the Government who had made contact with Professor Burke, and provided him with the means to design a virus which could cripple the Defence Satellite Communication System. The malware had to be uploaded manually. When the
eyes in the sky
were back online, another shot would be taken. The wave would be much bigger than the last. He was overcome with horror. He said,

“They are literally going to wash away all evidence. Over my dead body they do. They took the first shot knowing the island was inhabited. The fuckers don’t care. Your boat? Where is it?”

“We have two boats to the north of the island.”

“Loch a Ghlinne? Where the Flower Child was wrecked?”

“That’s it,” said Erurainon.

“How many more passengers can it hold?”

“We have about room for four more passengers, six if we jettison some supplies. Why, what’s on your mind?”

“I need to warn the islanders and evacuate as many of them as possible and then I need to find lover boy and get him and hopefully his true love, Saffron off the island.” Erurainon said,

“Itaridlë will know what to do, when she gets here. She’s our leader.” 

“Look my friends,” said McIntyre resting his arms on both the Elfs shoulders and pointing to the digital image, “the way I see it, we have a few clear choices: we could give ourselves up, but I don’t get the impression they want to sit down for a chat; we can gather up as many as we can and flee; or we can find a way to upload this virus and totally fuck their operation up. My guess is that we have a few hours to play with, unless they plan on destroying their own warship anchored out in the bay. Inwë nodded his head and said,

“Professor Burke said he had taken out some insurance measures. He must have been trying to access the command and control system manually. This would explain why he was trying to get to St Kilda. How he planned to get past the security is a mystery. Maybe he would have tried to get picked up or arrested and somehow attempt to get the virus to his contact who must be in a position of authority. They must be on the Corvette. Do you or your friend know who the contact was?”

“Lover boy said he was unconscious for the time he spent with him.” Inwë began to look at McIntyre inquisitively and a moment of clarity appeared in his mind.

“You’re quite knowledgeable for a Coast Guard officer? How do we know we can trust you?”

“Look, all I want to do is get the Islanders to safety, but this place has been my home for the last five years. I have friends that I would regard as family here. Two of my men didn’t return to base after checking out the damage caused by this wave. Call it revenge, call it what you like, but just as importantly I also want to live.”

“Ok, but how we uploaded this virus is beyond me. I haven’t seen anything like this before. It’s a manual job by someone with security clearance. This MoDs system cannot be hacked or remote accessed. It’s not on a network. It’s suckers technology, way before my time.”

“You need to find Itaridlë.” With that, Inwë and Erurainon left to find their leader. McIntyre put faith in his gut feeling that the surveillance satellites were still down. He took a sheltered path to the village where he wouldn’t be spotted from the military vessel out in the Bay. He arrived at the backdoor of Sheila’s cottage and knocked. He told her of the MoDs plan and to spread the word that the village had to evacuate and or make their way to the communications station at the top of Mullach Mór or what English Pete called the Big Hill Summit.

Chapter 26: A Means to an End

Bull ran towards where he saw the old man’s form standing by the edge of the cliff. When he arrived at the spot he found only a dishevelled sheep trying to find fresh blades of grass. He asked the sheep if he had seen an old man. What with the strange goings on, it’s worth a try, he thought. The sheep stared at him blankly. Bull walked along the cliff until he came to an outcrop like a giant’s finger extending over the ocean and pointing towards the sky. Bull approached it and sat down. He ran his hands through the grass then plucked a small blue flower. It had been a long time since he had been acquainted with any natural entity other than the marine variety. He heard a small voice behind him.

“I would offer you a cigarette but I smoked my last one yesterday.”

Bull turned and saw Saffron standing on the fingertip of the protruding cliff edge, her dreadlocks blowing in the wind. He looked at her incredulously and with a painful smile he replied,

“I’ve given up.”

“Good for you. It takes a great deal of will power.”

“I didn’t really have a choice.”

“We all have a choice.”

“No, really, I didn’t. I left my cigs on the ship. Sometimes your choices are determined by other factors out with your own control.”

“True.”

“Why don’t you come away from the edge of the cliff, Saffron?”

“This is the Lover’s Stone. I thought it was an appropriate place to meet. I’m perfectly safe.”

“I see you’ve taken to wearing shades?”

“I need them to see in your world.”

“You’re a hallucination aren’t you? I’ve been having a few recently.”

Saffron climbed down from the Lover’s Stone and said softly,

“Come with me, there’s something I need to show you.”

One hour later they crossed Claigeann Mor to find the path over Mullach Geal and towards the military cabins and the communications station. Bull held out Saffron’s Peruvian hand knitted alpaca hat and said,

“It’s getting cold. You might want to put this on.” Saffron smiled,

“You hold onto it for now.”

                                         ………………………..

McIntyre had returned to the cleit. He was alone and then from outside he heard the footsteps. He receded into a dark corner, becoming as one with the cold, damp stone of the cleit. He could now detect multiple shadows moving around the entrance. He covered his mouth with his hand, convinced that his deep breathing would give away his location, but there was nothing he could do about the drumming noise his heart made in the cavity of his chest. No discernible words came forth from the dark figures but he could hear the sounds of assault weapons being primed. It wouldn’t be long before he was exposed.

A torch light shone through the darkness. He knelt down and picked up a rock and gestured to throw it at the first head that appeared through the cleit entrance. If I go out, I’m not going without a fight, he thought. He then heard the shuffling of feet and then someone approached. He launched the rock which found its target with aplomb. A loud painful screech came from the falling figure. The torch fell to the ground and span round to illuminate a face which he recognised as belonging to Andrew. He was clutching the side of his head. McIntyre exclaimed,