Neelam woke up, lying face down on the immaculate lawn of the institute.
The last thing he remembered was pressing the button to remote-detonate the
bomb. It had always been the resistance's intention to kill president Thomson,
of course if it had been an accident then all the better, as it wouldn't point
directly at them. He had known the bomb wasn't anywhere near the monster when it
went off; but as far as he saw it, it was more important to have a live prisoner
than a dead martyr. Then the bomb had exploded. Cautiously, he raised his head.
This wasn't right. The amount of devastation was incredible, and far more than
there should have been for the amount of explosives they had used. The sky was
covered in huge ribbons of blackness, whipping back and forth in torment. Some
reached the ground, flickering spasmodically as they scoured the life from it.
The trails they left behind sparkled with frost and steamed with intense cold.
Inanimate objects
seemed unchanged, other than being covered in a thick frost, but living
matter... As the dark taint moved through trees, bushes and people, they left
behind monsters. Rancid fungi bloomed, throwing foul smelling spores into the
air. Huge, balloon like, slugs browsed immense rotting black leaves covered in
spines. Spindly-legged predators hunted amongst them; using long proboscis to
inject their chosen prey with digestive enzymes and toxins. Neelam listened to
the screams of strange new life forms, intertwined with those of his fellow
race. He had awoken in hell. Years of military training took hold in his mind.
The mission parameters had been changed drastically. He looked around; he had
five of his assault team left. Still armed, they were vastly more dangerous than
the slow moving creatures around him, although the black air seemed to be moving
quickly, and in a seemingly random way. That was the enemy now, Thomson and his
cronies paled in comparison. "Jaxxson, get the others on their feet. We're
going in to get Cassandra, and the president. Screw the assassination."
The console room was slowly beginning to look like its old self again.
The view of the universe flickered in and out of darkness, as black tendrils
weaved and curled across it. Fitz was drinking something that looked almost
exactly like milk, except it tasted like spicy orange juice. He certainly didn't
feel ill anymore, which was number one on his current list of things to tick
off. He took another mouthful, and mentally ticked it, then thoroughly scribbled
it out with a thick black felt tipped pen. Can't get much more ticked than that!
He thought. The Doctor was fiddling around with some big machine that walked
around on it own set of legs. Fitz had asked what it was, and as usual he'd been
given a full explanation that went straight over his head, about three words in.
He'd nodded as if he'd understood everything the Doctor had gone on about, and
gone back to the TV chair with his new found drink.
The
Doctor was finishing the remote manipulator unit's calibrations when he heard a
gasp. Sam was staring straight up, mouth wide open. The Doctor rose from his
ministrations, and went over to her. "What's wrong Sam?" She turned to look
at him. "I saw a face! Clear as day. It was in one of the black threads."
The Doctor smiled. "It was probably just a pattern that your brain interpreted
as a face. Just like seeing animals in clouds." She shook her head. "I know
what I saw." Fitz took this point to wander over to the pair looking up at the
universe. "What's up Doc?" They both looked at him. He smiled sheepishly.
"Sorry, it was too good an opportunity and I couldn't resist."
"Sam
thought she saw a face."
"What,
like in clouds and stuff?" Sam scowled. "No. One of the big black things
made a face. It looked like it was looking for something." Fitz looked up at
the swirling morass. "Can't see anything now."
"Of
course you can't see anything now, it's gone! Look, if you don't believe me,
just say so." Tight lipped, she stomped away; leaving the Doctor and Fitz
watching her go. Fitz looked at the Doctor. "What did I say?" The Doctor
turned to him. "I think we're going to have to work on your timing Fitz." He
looked at the disappearing back of Sam. "I think mine could do with a tuning
as well." He returned to the remote manipulator unit. Fitz followed. "So run
this by me again?" The Doctor opened his mouth. "Simply this time? I'm still
getting used to the TV's remote control remember." The Doctor knelt down
next to the tube like machine. "Maybe it would be better to show you." He
played with some controls on the side. The short legs on the bottom of the
seven-foot tube retracted, like quicksilver running into the base. The brushed
metal gradually turned silver, and then the tube split up the middle forming
legs. Two branches split away from the sides, and the next thing Fitz knew,
there were two Doctors standing in front of him. "What do you think?" said
one of them. Fitz stepped back. "Okay, I'm freaked. What next, a copy of
me?" The real Doctor stepped forward. "Yes actually." He turned back to
his duplicate. "The TARDIS is equipped to handle all types of environment.
When pressure suits aren't enough, the researchers would send in an r.m.u.
Basically it's an advanced version of early twenty first century Earth's tele-presence
technology. The strange matter environment is inimical to us, so we'll remote
pilot one of these into the trouble zone, seal it off and get rid of it.
Simple!" Fitz looked at him. "I was doing fine until tele-whatsit."
"Basically
Fitz, it's a puppet. Everything it senses will be fed directly to you, so that
you'll think your actually there, when you'll be sitting comfortably in a chair
here."
"Does
that mean we're not going anywhere, but the robots are?" The Doctor nodded.
"That's cool. What are they called again?"
"Technically
they're remote manipulation units, but I like to call them avatars. This is the
first time I've used them. Usually I prefer to go and see for myself. However,
in this case there is a very clear danger. Using an avatar we should be able to
pass through a low-energy interface without harm." He busied himself with the
controls on the sides of two more of the units, lying in their boxes next to
each other. "Stand right where you are, the units need to copy you." One of
the cylinders rose vertically out of its box, and tottered over to Fitz on its
spindly legs. Fitz stood there, waiting for the towering tube to do something.
"That's it. Could you send Sam over here so we can bring her avatar
online?" Fitz paused. "What, that's it?" The Doctor nodded. "Off you
go; I have to finish you off." He strode over to Fitz's avatar and started
to fiddle with its control panel.
Neelam's
day was slowly progressing from just plain bad, through worse and rapidly into
the nether realms of atrocious. Moving quickly across the compound to the hole
in the side of the accelerator lab's wall, they had moved in. Only to run
straight into president Thompson's personal, and very heavily armed, guard
unit. Fortunately for both sides, Thompson had called a ceasefire before anyone
had a chance to react. Now he was standing opposite the person he had been sent
to kill. Parts of him were screaming 'Shoot him! Shoot him now! While you have
the chance!' while his training firmly whispered in his ear that they needed
Thompson's guard unit, badly. He'd sent two of his men into the lab to
search for survivors, and Cassandra. That's when he heard his men screaming.
He'd never heard that before. He'd seen plenty of his men die, but usually
it had been during an explosion or a firefight. This time, they'd been
standing quietly in the accelerator corridor, when the screams had echoed down
to them. Chilling everyone to the bone. They had created a subtle shift, and the
two separate groups suddenly became a single pack of very frightened men. The
fear was heightened when they arrived at the control room; to find a huge
creature, calmly tearing Neelam's men apart, and crunching through the bones
like they were some kind of marshmallow coated biscuits. They had stood there
watching the elephantine monster, wrap its tentacled arms around an arm and
raise it to the grinding mandibles of its maw. Then they opened fire with
everything they had. Blue blood spattered the walls, mixing with bloody red
carnage it had already wrought.
They
staggered out into sickly red sunlight, which drenched everything in crimson.
They were low on ammo, and the only person with legitimate access to the arms
they needed to protect them, let alone find Cassandra, was president Thompson.
Now Neelam was making a deal with the devil, but when he looked around at the
devastation he couldn't help thinking 'Better the devil you know.' They
had commandeered the only undamaged vehicle they could find, which just so
happened to be a campus security four-by-four. Thompson's head guard was
riding shotgun, with the president in the back holding on for dear life, as they
avoided trailing bands of blackness and the gruesome results of their passing.
"Why do you do it?" He shouted over the roar of the wind hurtling past.
Irons, the chief security officer looked at him. "Pays good." He rumbled.
The pays good; Jesus is that it? He protects the planets most hated dictator
because the pays good? The 4x4 banked around a withered tree covered in a light
grey ichor. "It'd have to be!" He shouted back. The man obviously didn't
have any political inclination, didn't care whether the military budget was
given precedence over the water distribution budget for the central provinces,
didn't care that because of drought over twenty five thousand people had died
over the last two years. The only reason the military existed, was to keep the
populace in line. There were no other habitable worlds in this solar system, and
all passing ships were FTL freighters selling their wares as they travelled from
system to system. The orbital defence platforms were pointed at the planet's
surface, allowing Thompson to surgically vaporise anything he wanted to. Not to
mention he was the only one with the system codes, which was probably why there
hadn't yet been a military coup. He couldn't help dwelling on the fact that
the man was in arms reach. But Neelam needed weapons, and right now they were
better off together than apart. He could deal with Thompson when they got out of
this mess.
He
didn't see the tentacled outrage until one of its arms lashed out; smashing
through the windscreen like it was made of rice paper. He was already dropping
to one side as the feeler caught the armour of his right shoulder, ripping it
clean off and covering him in foul smelling mucus. One of the guards, who had
been hanging onto the outside of the little vehicle, was as lucky as the barbed
suckers lodged in his skin and clothing. He was torn away from the vehicle so
quickly all he managed was a look of surprise as he disappeared out of sight.
The 4x4, now effectively driverless, careened into a ravaged tree throwing
everyone to the ground.
Viscous fluids pumped spasmodically from the frame, as
it leaked battery gel into the torn earth beneath it. Neelam pushed himself
upright. No one appeared hurt, barring scratches and bruises. "Sir, stay
absolutely still." Came a hissed voice. Jaxxson was slowly reaching for his
plasma carbine, his hand searching for the weapon next to him, without his eyes
leaving a point above and behind Neelam's head. The hairs on the back of
Neelam's neck were beginning to slowly rise, as he realised something large
and nasty was directly behind him. Something large, and heavy shuffled behind
him, and he felt something touch his back. Suddenly Jaxxson's slow movements
accelerated to viper-like speed. Smoothly he picked up the carbine, swivelled
and let off five clean rounds. As the thing behind him started making screaming,
bubbling noises, Neelam was already over a metre away and still accelerating.
Seconds later he was at Jaxxson's side, and stole a look at what had nearly
had him for lunch. It was one of the elephantine predators. A large pear shaped
body, supported by six barrels shaped legs. The body was covered in thick,
black, scales. The mouthparts were obviously designed for crunching through
armoured hides, and were surrounded by a thick nest of octopus-like tentacles.
The creature was still moving, albeit sluggishly. Even after five shots from an
armour-piercing carbine, the thing was still heading towards them, waving its
multiple arms at them. Jaxxson fired five more shots, straight down the
creature's gullet. It simply stopped; supported by its legs, the tentacles
drooped and it was dead. Neelam suddenly realised he wasn't breathing and
heaved a sigh of relief. "How many is that I owe you now?" Jaxxson grinned.
"Too many to count. Let's just make sure you're paying for the grog the
next time we see a bar. If we get to see one." Neelam took the moment to take
control of their rag-tag group. "We're going to have to walk the rest of the
way. If we're lucky, it'll only take twenty minutes to get to the arms depot
if we stick to the main route. If we're not, it'll take longer."
Cassandra
was feeling faint and somehow diminished. Inside her little bubble of reality,
she kept hearing whispered voices. Shadows flittered past, keeping to the
periphery of her vision, never allowing her to fully look at them. She saw
strange creatures roaming the altered landscape, predating off one another in a
seemingly unending orgy of carnage. The strangest thing was that it happened in
slow motion. The creatures were obviously moving at the right speed for them,
for where they came from, but it was like watching a film at one-quarter speed.
They trundled across mats of blackened fungi and withered, dark blue leaved,
trees; and always the incessant whispering behind her head telling her where to
go. She clutched the small sphere in her hands, drawing comfort from its
solidity in a world going to pieces at the speed of light. She was nearing her
destination though. Maybe then the voice would stop.
The small sphere
had been difficult to manoeuvre after all. Like a gyroscope, it didn't like
moving up and down. It had started at a certain height, and wanted very much to
stay there. Moving it horizontally had been fine. The University campus had been
built on a five-kilometre plateau that had been levelled to within a millimetre
variance.
It wasn't until she approached the edge of the plateau that she
realised the sphere was locked into one plane. It had two implications. The
first was how the hell she was going to get it down, and secondly it gave her
some information about the nature of the object. She knew it wasn't a pocket
Universe. They had been created in well-documented experiments on many colony
worlds. No, this was something very, very different. Being locked in a single
plane implied the object had spin. Even though she could hold it in her hands
quite safely. Her old professor had described the experiment in full, so a
macroscopic quantum particle was not out of the question. It could also be a
wrapped string that had become partially unbundled from the firmament. The
possibilities were beginning to fizz in her mind, as she manhandled the object
into a tourist elevator to take it down. The hope was, that the roof of the
elevator would force the object down. Of course, it was just as possible that it
would simply punch a whole through the roof, but she didn't think that was
likely. Especially as she had been able to force it down with whatever brute
strength she could muster. With the sphere finally inside the elevator, she took
a moment to relax. Around her the scene was remarkable. The elevator was a
tourist, all glass, affair giving a full view of the dizzying drop below, and
the mountains in the misted distance. The sphere clanged against the ceiling, as
the elevator started on the thousand foot drop to sea level. Inside the quiet
elevator, the whispers gathered around her like a cloud of mosquitoes.
Half-words flew around her head, with the occasional hint of something monstrous
laughing demonically. She pressed her face against the glass and tried to block
them out. "Over soon" She whispered to herself. "Over soon."
