Eschaton Page 9

  ‘Our captors have been quite fair-handed thus far, and we are for the most part unharmed.’

  Bentley’s hand shook with anger as he read on.

  ‘I have been instructed to implore you to attend us at your earliest convenience, and for the sake of your mother’s nerves, it would be most agreeable if you would come directly.

  Tell no one. D.’

  Bentley’s knuckles were white as he opened the timeline attached to the letter.

  It was a simple task to unwind its chronology and find his family sitting shivering in a dark cell somewhere beneath the Protectorate headquarters.

  Bentley knew better than to jump straight into it, even though every nerve in his body was telling him to do so. Tears filled his eyes as he stood hovering on the edge of the event watching his father write the note while Dalton’s henchmen stood menacingly over him.

  Why would Dalton want me? he wondered, thinking back to the time he’d met the arrogant bully and his gang of Daedalans in the lower dungeons of the academy.

  As he disconnected from the timeline, another message appeared in a different hand below his father’s writing.

  ‘Don’t take too long.’

  It was signed in blood.

  33

  Justice

  Fermi observed Lenin’s entrance through a hundred different video feeds.

  The man was naked, and his gleaming, well-muscled body was everything that the old professor was not.

  Fermi remembered the first time he’d occupied that body, wearing it as if it were a set of clothes, feeling the skin and muscle of his arms, touching and flexing his fingers as his mind integrated with the neural pathways.

  The sensation of standing on two feet again as he stepped out of the gestation pod had been a revelation — like being reborn. To breath air without the assistance of a machine, to feel the weight of gravity on his body, all sensations he’d never thought to experience again.

  Not until he’d discovered dark energy.

  Then everything changed.

  His work on the time portals had given him the ability to change the past. Fermi had used it to accelerate many different areas of research, teaching young scientists knowledge they should never have had, using multiple pasts to improve their theories. It was the ultimate scientific method, and every iteration brought him closer to his goal, closer to the cure.

  One particular area of study was in quantum fluctuation. The waves of space-time were creating energy, a limitless supply of energy. When he learned how to harness this dark power source his range became extraordinary, he could suddenly reach parts of the past that were well beyond the scope of his original machine.

  Fermi soon realised he could move beyond time altogether and it was then that he first felt the alien presence. There was no real physical element to their connection, merely the existence of another entity. It had no shape, no real consciousness, but somehow from within the dark energy that flowed through his suit, an awareness surfaced, an insidious collection of thoughts and memories permeating his own like a virus.

  The memories of a thousand lifetimes poured into his augmented mind. He had absorbed them all, and like a petulant child at Christmas, he would open each one and devour it. There were so many stories, so many lifetimes to share. The entity taught him of the other universes, ancient timelines that had died before his own was even begun. The alien showed him ways to use his technology, to move his mind into Lenin and to harness the dark energy to power the portals.

  Now Lenin stood on the other side of the glass tank, his hand on the controls, smearing its pristine surface with blood. Fermi watched as Lenin began to disable the safety protocols on his life support. He felt the supply of dark energy slowing, felt the creature within him begin to hunger.

  Lenin turned to the main control desk as Seven-sigma materialised.

  ‘You will refrain from any further action,’ it said politely to the clone.

  Lenin ignored it, staring at the screens that were still displaying live feeds of his brothers out in the field. He picked up one of the small egg-shaped robots and shook it until the field turned to a deep shade of red, and then threw it hard into the main desk.

  The explosion ripped through the unit as if it were made of paper, and flames seared his skin, but he felt no pain. Fermi had engineered them that way so that they could endure the most extreme conditions.

  As the life support drained away, it somehow seemed fitting that Lenin should be the one to end it. The facilities’ alarms were activating, a core breach was imminent, but as Fermi felt the cold seeping into his body, he realised he didn’t care, for the other mind had shown him what was to come and it wasn’t a future he wanted to be part of.

  34

  Execution

  [London. Date: 11.663]

  Bentley tried and failed to hide the shock of finding his father on his knees before Dalton. The rest of his family were nowhere to be seen, but the sword that lay across his father’s neck was enough of a threat to focus his attention.

  ‘Your father tells me you are one of the brightest artificers of your generation,’ said Dalton, sneering. ‘A glowing commendation from such a respected engineer. I wonder if you’re as good as he says — you know what dads are like.’

  Bentley had no idea that his father thought of him like that, and he could still remember the day that he’d told him he wanted to join the Dreadnoughts. The look of disbelief on his father’s face was nearly enough to make him change his mind, but he hadn’t, and now it seemed he might be their only hope.

  Dalton had taken over an old church, somewhere in the fourteenth century. It was a solemn, gothic building with gargoyles and saints staring blindly down at them from the vaulted ceiling. For some reason, it reminded Bentley of the plague church they’d used to capture the Wyrrm.

  Dalton laughed. ‘I wondered how long it would take you to realise where we are. I hear that it was one of your finest moments, although I’m sure Darkling would disagree.’

  This is the place, thought Bentley, before we arrived — but how long?

  Dalton lifted the sword away from his father’s neck.

  ‘I have a little problem that I’m hoping you can resolve,’ he began. ‘You see, I wish to enter the maelstrom and those annoying Draconians have blocked every path bar one.’

  ‘The W-Wyrrm?’ Bentley stuttered.

  ‘Exactly,’ Dalton agreed, pointing the sword directly at Bentley’s head, ‘and you’re the man that caught it. So I thought it fitting that you should be the one to release it.’

  ‘I can’t — ’ Bentley began to say but stopped as the sword flashed, Dalton bringing the blade to within a millimetre of his father’s skull.

  ‘That’s the wrong answer,’ Dalton snapped, his face like thunder. ‘I have no quarrel with you or your family. All I ask is that you open a breach, and my experts tell me that a Wyrrm can be used for such things.’

  Bentley shook his head. ‘You don’t understand, the stasis field and the spike are closed loops, so I cannot unmake them.’

  Dalton lifted the blade, and taking the fighting stance of a samurai, he held it high above his head. ‘Not even if your father’s life depended on it?’

  Bentley’s brain didn’t work well under stress, especially fear, and as he tried to think of a solution all he came up with was: ‘Time. I need more time!’

  ‘Part of the reason we came back forty-eight hours earlier.’

  Bentley shook his head, trying to think clearly. His father stared at him, the way he used to do when he was telling him off — willing him not to do it.

  ‘Forward! We need to go forward to after it’s been captured. If I invert the spike it may open a path through the Wyrrm’s chronology. You could follow that into the maelstrom.’

  ‘See!’ Dalton whispered to Bentley’s father. ‘He’s a genius after all! Bravo, Bentley junior.’

  Then with one swift movement he brought the sword down on his father’s neck and sliced off his
head.

  Bentley screamed.

  Dalton’s men grabbed his arms before Bentley could attack him.

  ‘You can of course change the outcome. Just get me in there and my men have been instructed to alter this event. He can still live — but it’s up to you now!’

  35

  Colonel

  [Cassandra nebula, Maelstrom]

  Alixia took her hand away from Rufius’ pale forehead and replaced the poultice. ‘Do you know who he is?’

  ‘His name is Rufius Westinghouse, but Caitlin calls him Daedalus.’

  Alixia eyes widened in surprise. ‘And where exactly did you find him?’

  ‘In the maelstrom, fighting the elder gods — Djinn, I think you call them.’

  ‘And they did this to him?’

  ‘No, this happened in the linear. When Josh was trying to discover who his father was.’

  ‘Did he succeed?’

  Juliana shrugged. ‘We haven’t seen him or Caitlin since.’

  Alixia picked up his notes and flicked through them. ‘And you don’t know what attacked him?’

  ‘There’d been some kind of temporal disruption,’ said Juliana, handing her a Polaroid of the timesuit. ‘This was standing next to his body when we found him.’

  Alixia took the image and studied it carefully. ‘This came through from the maelstrom?’

  The Makepieces nodded.

  ‘I believe it’s a time suit,’ said Thomas, a little too enthusiastically. ‘Much like our ship.’

  Alixia hadn’t had time to come to terms with the fact that she was in the sickbay of a WW2 battleship in the middle of the maelstrom, much less how they’d got her there. The events of the last few days had been manic, and she’d hardly had time to change her clothes, let alone form a plan — that would have to come later, once she’d saved the Makepieces’ friend and found Caitlin.

  She crossed her arms and allowed her medical training to take over. ‘He’s tachycardic, pulse weak, and I don’t like the sound of his breathing. Which all point towards systemic infection.’ She pulled back the sheet to examine the blackened wound. ‘This is no linear contagion. I’ve seen similar patterns in Xenos who’ve been attacked by storm-kin. He’s been infected by something from the maelstrom.’

  Juliana gave her husband the ‘told-you-so’ look.

  ‘I would need their laboratory to diagnose this, and the best we can do now is try to isolate whatever it is that’s got into his system and try and remove it. My daughter, Lyra, is far more adept at this kind of healing. I take it we can reach her? She’s at Draconian headquarters.’

  ‘The Nautilus can go virtually anywhere,’ Thomas said proudly.

  ‘Good. Let’s get him back on board, as there’s no point keeping him here,’ she said, looking around at the grey bulkheads. ‘It’s full of ghosts.’

  36

  Escape

  Josh hobbled after Caitlin as fast as he could. He could feel the anaesthetic wearing off as the muscles in his leg were beginning to ache, and every time he put any weight on it the pain lanced up his spine.

  Caitlin had climbed into one of the timesuits and used its powered exoskeleton to race ahead, reaching the entrance to the tunnel chamber long before him.

  ‘Come on slowcoach!’ she shouted, her voice enhanced by the speakers in the helmet. ‘We’re out of time.’

  The floor shook as another explosion detonated below them and the lights went out for good. Electricity sparked along the fractured conduits above his head, split open by the force of the power surge.

  Josh forced himself forward, ignoring the pain and focussing on the mirrored suit that was waving at him through the smoke-filled corridor.

  The edges of his vision were going dark, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it.

  ‘Just go!’ he shouted at her, as his leg gave way and he fell to his knees.

  There was another blast, and he felt the metal gantry they were standing on beginning to give way. Somewhere far off Josh could hear the countdown of the self-destruct that the real Lenin must have triggered.

  ‘THIRTEEN, TWELVE, ELEVEN.’

  It was too late. They were never going to make it.

  37

  Wyrrm

  [London. Date: 11.664]

  The contorted body of Darkling hung limply in mid-air, his eyes staring blankly out of a face frozen in the middle of a scream. Bentley could still see the phantom mandibles of the Wrrym’s mouth where they pierced his limbs. They were both enclosed within a shimmering sphere of energy — known as a ‘spike’; it was simply a containment field that froze a tiny fragment of time.

  The bodies of the unfortunate Xeno research team lay scattered around the edges of the field where Dalton’s soldiers had cut them down. There was no mercy for the scientists; they would’ve been the only witnesses to his plan and Bentley’s betrayal.

  The Xenos had brought their own containment units, and twelve of them were positioned around the sphere like a clock face. Bentley recognised the modified Hubble invertors immediately. It was a design his father had helped to develop, one that created an infinite loop of a nanosecond of time — effectively freezing anything trapped inside it.

  Bentley was aware that collapsing a Hubble sphere wasn’t a simple thing to do; it was generally thought to be suicidal by most temporal engineers. Once these devices were deployed, they were not supposed to be reversed. They were designed to keep things locked down — permanently.

  All Bentley could think about was the look on his father’s face as his head had rolled across the floor. He had no choice but to do this, and even if he couldn’t save his dad, Dalton’s men still had the rest of his family.

  The Wyrrm’s head took up most of the knave of the church. Dalton was busy admiring the creature, walking around the perimeter with the sword over one shoulder, the blood still gleaming on the blade.

  ‘Such a magnificent creature,’ Dalton observed. ‘You really can’t begin to appreciate what the maelstrom is capable of until you see it in the flesh.’

  The rest of his squad, a mixture of hard-faced soldiers and scientists, were busy unpacking their equipment from black bags and strapping on unusual pieces of body armour.

  Bentley knelt down beside one of the containment generators and took out his set of screwdrivers. They were made in the late tenth century and given to him as a present for his sixteenth birthday. A sob caught in his throat as he read the inscription on the side of the handle.

  Modos et cunctarum rerum mensuras audebo — ‘I dare to give the methods and measures of all things.’

  It was the motto of the artificers and one that his father had quoted to him on more than one late night in his workshop.

  He wiped his eyes when Dalton wasn’t looking and got to work.

  Two hours later Bentley had everything aligned correctly. The adjustments he’d made to the field had weakened it enough for the Wyrrm to move a little, making the body of Darkling dance awkwardly in mid-air.

  Dalton seemed fascinated by the way the creature had merged with the Augur’s body, studying it from different angles and more than once trying to poke it with his sword.

  The first time Darkling had twitched the entire Protectorate team had jumped. Bentley had to hide his amusement at the sight of the battle-hardened soldiers flinching like scared children. Dalton turned it into a joke, making fun of the ‘meat marionette’ as he called it.

  ‘It’s ready,’ said Bentley, when the creature had settled.

  ‘Are you sure? It looks awfully like it’s going to devour us the second we step in.’

  ‘I’m sure. My father’s life depends on it.’

  ‘So it does,’ Dalton said, tapping the handle of the sword, which was now cleaned and safely back in its scabbard.

  ‘How will I know you will let them go?’ asked Bentley, holding up the master switch.

  Dalton’s smile twisted. ‘You’re wiser than you look. Here, take this.’ He tossed Bentley a coin with the words ‘THE F
UTURE IS NOT YET WRITTEN’ around the edge. ‘It will be more than enough.’

  Bentley pocketed the coin and went back to his post.

  Dalton took off his gloves. There was a golden ring on his left hand that seemed to glow when he brought it near the Wyrrm. Bentley didn’t have a clue what it was, but the others seemed to treat it with a great deal of respect.

  ‘Gentleman, we stand at the edge of the abyss. Beyond lies all manner of dangers, most of which you’ll never have encountered before and will undoubtedly attempt to kill you.’

  He held the ring up for them all to see. ‘But we have an advantage; this talisman will protect us. With it I shall command them, with it we shall claim dominion over the Djinn.’

  His men cheered, beating their fists against their body armour. Bentley threw the final switch, and the field dropped.

  Several things happened at once.

  As Bentley expected, reversing the containment field instantly freed the Wyrrm, who immediately attempted to break out of its prison; only to find it could move neither forward nor backward in time. Dalton’s ring was glowing brightly as he held it up towards the creature.

  The walls of the church shook as the creature thrashed around, trying to break free of his control.

  Dalton’s grin widened as he realised the power he had over it, and Bentley thought he caught the faintest glimmer of madness in his eyes.

  ‘Be gone!’ Dalton declared, his voice full of other words in half-whispered tongues.

  The Wyrrm took the only route open to it and retreated through the chronosphere, creating a large circular aperture in the skin of time.

  As it disappeared into the maelstrom, Dalton and his team leapt forward, charging down the tunnel of swirling chaos that it left in its wake.