Terminal by Roderick Gordon
‘Sir,’ Bob cut in. ‘That information’s not for dissimilation.’
Chester shot a glance at Parry who was grimacing. He appeared extremely uncomfortable.
‘We’re way beyond any such niceties now,’ the President snapped at Bob. Then he shook his head. ‘We’ll get back to you, gentlemen,’ he said.
Chester was left with the image of the President making a rapid cutting motion across his throat as he turned towards Bob, then the screens simply shut down.
‘You poor old thing, you look done in. They are a handful, aren’t they?’ Mrs Burrows said, stroking Colly’s head. Stretched out on her side as the kittens suckled hungrily, the cat was exhausted, but she still made the effort to purr loudly.
As someone entered the room, Colly looked up, and her purring became more subdued. ‘It’s all right, girl,’ Mrs Burrows said, trying to reassure her. Like all Hunters she was extremely protective of her young, hissing and growling at anyone who came near, although Mrs Burrows had proved to be the exception to this.
‘I’ll be glad when I’ve got my kitchen back,’ the First Officer grumbled, stepping over the toys the kittens had left scattered across the floor. It was an age-old tradition for Colonists to help out when a Hunter had a new litter, as it was quite an undertaking to care for and clean up after the lively offspring. Numerous gifts of food and old blankets had been left by the front door, but another favourite gift was the cloth toys people made for the kittens to play with. With their cotton-thread whiskers and shiny bead eyes, these generally resembled the different varieties of rats the cats would be expected to hunt in adult life.
The First Officer sat down, then groaned with the effort as he leant forward to scoop up a toy that had caught his eye. This was no rat, but a little man dressed in black with a white face, and in its hand it had a tiny cloth book with the letter C embroidered on it. ‘Ha, a Styx, and he’s even holding the Book of Catastrophes! Someone’s got a sense of humour,’ the First Officer said with a chuckle. ‘If they’d caught anyone doing this, it would have merited Banishment or even death by hanging.’
Mrs Burrows turned towards the First Officer. ‘Oh, it’s a Styx, is it? I thought that was meant to be you, love,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
The First Officer chuckled, then stopped himself as he wondered if she had been joking or not. Although Mrs Burrows’ sight was heavily impaired, most of the time her incredibly developed olfactory sense more than compensated as she went about the Colony, helping the First Officer to run things. But every so often he was reminded that she could hardly see at all.
‘No, I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be a White Neck,’ he said. He jiggled it around by one of its chewed legs. All of a sudden one of the kittens, who’d noticed what he was doing, made a lunge for it. ‘Whoops!’ the First Officer exclaimed as it was snatched from his hand and the kitten shot under the table with its trophy. ‘Nearly lost a couple of fingers there!’
Colly wasn’t purring any longer, but was making a low growling sound as she stared gimlet-eyed at the First Officer.
‘And tell that bloody Hunter I’m no threat to her babies, will you?’ the First Officer said. ‘After all, she was my Hunter, once upon a time.’
Mrs Burrows laughed. ‘She doesn’t mean it. And she’ll be your Hunter again the moment her hormone levels are back to normal.’
The kitten emerged from under the table and jumped up so that both of its forepaws rested on the First Officer’s thigh. It may have been less than two months old, but it was already larger than any Topsoil domestic cat.
With a shake of its head, the Hunter kitten dropped the Styx rag doll in the First Officer’s lap. ‘Well, will you look at this? I think I’ve made a friend here. He wants to play.’
‘Oh, that one,’ Mrs Burrows exhaled. ‘He’s the biggest and greediest of them all. Just like Bartleby.’
‘He’s the spitting image of his old man too. So maybe that’s what we should call him – Bartleby, in memory of his pa,’ the First Officer suggested, as he sent the rag doll flying to the other end of the kitchen for the kitten to fetch. Colly growled again, even louder this time. ‘But I don’t think his mother wants to let him go, though.’
There was a heavy silence in the room until Mrs Burrows spoke. ‘Talking about letting go, the more I think about it … I should never have let Will go off on that mission. What sort of mother am I?’ She didn’t give the First Officer time to answer as she added, ‘He’s been gone for such a long time now, and I have a terrible feeling something must have happened to him.’
The First Officer gave a nod, but then gestured towards the ceiling. ‘But everything’s falling apart up there. He might have got back and be lying low somewhere … somewhere safe. After all, Drake and the others were with him. They would have looked out for him, and maybe none of them can get messages through to us because of the lockdown.’
Under Mrs Burrows’ and the First Officer’s direction, the Colony had shut itself off from the surface because the scale of the problems Topsoil were so great, and there was the constant nagging fear that the Styx might eventually focus their attention on the Colony again and re-establish their rule. There had been lockdowns in the past, but these had been imposed by the Styx, the most recent when Will had escaped with Cal after failing to spring Chester from the Hold. But this new lockdown wasn’t to punish the people of the Colony but to protect them. And the good news was that other than going without their consignments of fresh fruit, they were almost self-sufficient again when it came to feeding themselves. The replanted pennybun fields were beginning to produce harvests, and the livestock breeding programme was also well under way.
‘You see – he’ll turn up here one day soon. Everything will be just fine,’ the First Officer tried to reassure Mrs Burrows. As the kitten reappeared with the toy and jumped up again with its paws on his leg, the First Officer rubbed the skin on its broad head. The kitten let out an appreciative mew. In an instant, Colly was up, her back arched.
‘I think you’d better leave Bartleby kitten alone before she goes for you,’ Mrs Burrows advised.
‘Righty ho,’ the First Officer said with a sigh, getting up slowly from his chair with both palms in the air as if he was surrendering. ‘Far be it for me to rock the boat. It’s only my house and my kitch—’
‘Something’s very wrong,’ Mrs Burrows burst out, snapping her head around to look at the bare wall. ‘Something just happened!’
‘What – with the wall?’ the First Officer asked.
Mrs Burrows’ eyes had rotated upwards so that only the whites were showing. ‘Water – so much you wouldn’t believe … and it’s heading our way.’
‘Where … how far away?’ the First Officer asked urgently.
Mrs Burrows shuddered, her eyes righting themselves. ‘Far side of the Colony … that direction.’ She pointed at the wall.
The First Officer was already rushing towards the door. ‘It must be coming through the Labyrynth!’ he shouted. ‘There must be a cave-in somewhere.’ He paused in the doorway, Bartleby kitten watching him curiously. ‘My God – if it’s the Labyrynth, maybe the breach is in the Eternal City! Remember what Eddie told Drake about a fracture in the roof? Maybe it’s that?’
Once in the street outside, Mrs Burrows and the First Officer collared the first person they came across to raise the alarm. Well into her seventies and showing no sign that she was going to stop doing the job she’d held for half a century, Ruby Withers was carrying her stepladder as she went about dusting the glowing orbs at the very top of the streetlamps. The First Officer quickly told her to go to the nearest temple and raise the alarm by ringing the bell.
Ruby caught on quickly. Every Colonist lived with three principal fears: the Discovery (when Topsoilers would learn of the city and invade it), a major fire, and lastly being caught in floodwaters.
Within minutes, the single bell ringing in the nearest temple led to a second sounding in a neighbouring area, and then another,
At first there was confusion amongst the people because there was no apparent danger, and even the First Officer allowed himself the hope that Mrs Burrows had been mistaken and that it was a false alarm. But as they came to the edge of the South Cavern, water was already gushing down the track in the middle of the steep tunnel leading up to the Quarter.
‘It’s started,’ Mrs Burrows said.
The First Officer lumbered quickly up the sharply inclined tunnel and into the first passage that branched off from it. Right at the end of this was a heavy iron door, one of the many that led into the Labyrynth from the Colony. It had been welded shut, and although there was a small trickle of water at its base, there was no sign that anything was amiss.
Not until the First Officer cleaned the glass inspection port in the door and tried to shine his lantern through.
‘Oh, no,’ he said.
Mrs Burrows didn’t need to be told that he’d seen the water level rising rapidly on the other side. Her supersense was warning her that all the portals to the Labyrynth were increasingly coming under pressure as thousands of gallons of water poured through its tunnels.
More Colonists were turning up every second. Even the new Governors were mucking in; the First Officer saw Cleaver using his not inconsiderable bulk to haul a cart laden with stone blocks as Squeaky and Gappy Mulligan pushed from behind.
Although many of the skilled artisans – the stonemasons, engineers and other specialists that maintained the Colony’s caverns and utilities – had been whisked away by the Styx for their breeding programme, those who were left quickly mobilised. And the carts of stone and equipment drawn from the Colony’s building yards kept coming.
With the knowledge that a full-scale breach would lead to their underground city being swamped by thousands of gallons of water, and very likely make it uninhabitable, the Colonists laboured tirelessly to reinforce and shore up the portals into the Labyrynth by constructing reinforcing walls across them. And where the portals were judged to be strong enough to withstand the weight of water, the Colonists hammered caulking into the joints around the edges of the metal doors in an attempt to stem any seepage.
Mrs Burrows was on hand to give as much information as she was able, although it was becoming more difficult for her as the huge volume of water completely filled the Labyrynth network, stopping her olfactory probes from penetrating into it.
And it was the best part of twenty-four hours before the Colonists took a break from their efforts. Tired, soaked and covered in dirt, they all gathered on the main track, where the flow of water continued but didn’t seem to be getting any worse.
‘That much water can’t come from anywhere else but the Thames, can it?’ Mrs Burrows asked the First Officer.
‘I’m afraid that’s right,’ he answered. ‘They blew the canopy over the Eternal City. Exactly as Drake said they might, one day.’
Mrs Burrows shook her head. ‘But if they’ve gone that far, what else are the Styx doing? We have to find out what’s happening Topsoil,’ she said. ‘They might need our help.’
‘I don’t know …’ the First Officer said, placing his hefty boot on one of the small streams of water, and watching it find a new course in the damp dirt. ‘We’ve got troubles enough of our own here. Last thing we want is to open up a portal and have the White Necks swoop in on us again.’
They walked in silence, Will occasionally throwing glances at Elliott as he wondered what was wrong because she didn’t seem to be herself at all. While he was used to her being candid with him, Elliott’s behaviour towards Jürgen had been out of character, and Will didn’t know the reason for it.
Only when they came nearer to the tower could they appreciate its sheer scale as it spiked into the bright sky. The exterior was completely smooth and grey, with only the odd patch where soil marked it. The overhanging disc-type structure at the top was difficult to look at because of the intensity of the sun, but once they were close enough at least it provided them with some shade.
And there was Woody, standing like a sentinel by the base of the tower where the ground was littered with piles of shattered rock and large boulders. Will put this down to the fact that the tower had burst up through the ground, bringing up strata from deep in the crust.
Woody was watching Elliott attentively as they headed towards him. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about meeting her eyes now. In fact, since the inexplicable event at the pyramid the diminutive man in his sunglasses and silly hat had gone through a transformation from an eccentric-looking but harmless member of the party to a rather ominous one, to the extent that both Will and Jürgen were actually rather wary of him.
But Elliott evidently didn’t have any such reservations as she went right up to the bushman. He stepped aside to reveal that behind him was another of the symbols with the three diverging rays.
There was no other feature that Will could see on the curved exterior of the tower – just the three rays indented into the perfectly smooth and unmarked wall. ‘That looks just like the panel you touched back at the pyramid,’ he noted.
And, as if there was some kind of tacit understanding between Woody and Elliott, the bushman’s eyes were glued to the three indentures as she stretched a hand towards them.
‘No, you don’t! No way!’ Will shouted immediately, lunging at Elliott to seize hold of her and pull her away from the symbol. ‘I’m not going to let you do that!’
Elliott reacted calmly. ‘It’s okay, Will. There’s no danger to any of us. Really.’
He released her, letting his arms hang limply by his sides. ‘Just think about the last time you did this.’
She shook her head. ‘That’s not going to happen again.’
Will’s voice lifted a tone as his frustration grew. ‘Oh, sure, and you really know, don’t you? Based on what? We’re right in the middle of something we don’t understand, and who knows how it’s going to turn out if you go sticking your hand into that? You might really be hurt this time.’ He glared at Woody. ‘Ask him what this tower is, and what it’s here for, will you?’
Elliott spoke to the bushman in Styx, and he replied, his expression inscrutable. She asked another question and again he answered in the rasping Styx language. ‘He doesn’t know any more than we do,’ Elliott told Will.
‘He doesn’t give that impression,’ Will countered.
Elliott sighed in exasperation. ‘Look, I’ve tried to ask him. All he says is that this was meant to be. He’s using a word I don’t recognise, but I think it must mean destiny or fate, or something like that. Maybe it’s old Styx.’ She stooped to put her rifle on the ground by her feet, then straightened up again. ‘Can’t you feel it, Will?’ she said. ‘It’s all around us.’
Will shook his head. ‘You keep saying that. Feel what exactly?’
‘There’s something here, and it’s, like, so much bigger than us,’ Elliott replied.
Will and Jürgen exchanged glances. A raggedy flock of vultures were picking over the churned-up soil, and a trio of the largest and most unpleasant-looking ones, which resembled burst cushions, were fighting over a tasty morsel. They were making harsh, grating calls as they squabbled, but somehow it suited the moment.
‘No, I don’t feel anything different.’ Will peered up at the top of the tower with evident misgiving. ‘Look, I want to find out what all this is about as much as anyone, but we have to be careful. We haven’t the faintest idea what this tower is here for, so we have to take this one step at a time.’
‘I’m sorry, Will. Nobody tells me what to do,’ Elliott stated flatly. ‘This is my choice.’
Will sighed, not knowing what else he could say to persuade her. He’d made his reservations clear and, short of physically restraining her, there wasn’t anything more he could do. So he kept his mouth shut as Elliott took one last look at him and moved towards the symbol. But in case she was thrown backwards again, he made sure he was in posit
Elliott slowly reached out and placed her fingers in the three indentures.
She stepped back as a circular opening with a diameter of around ten feet suddenly appeared in the tower to the left of the symbol. There was no sound, except some loose stones scattering across the floor inside the new opening.
Will remained where he was, but Jürgen immediately slipped past Elliott and began to examine the entrance. ‘The outside skin is several centimetres thick. I can’t see where the door or panel has gone. How … where has it retracted?’
‘It was the same with that trapdoor in the pyramid,’ Will said. His tone was such that Elliott gave him a quick glance. Despite all that was going on, he felt thoroughly let down by his friend. She hadn’t listened to him.
Jürgen was unaware of this as he continued his investigation, tapping various spots around the opening, his knuckles making barely any sound. ‘I can’t tell you what this material is – seems to be neither stone nor metal.’
‘See – there wasn’t any danger to us, was there? What did I tell you?’ Elliott said to Will, trying a smile on him as she went to collect her rifle from the ground.
Will didn’t reciprocate, instead pretending to stare inside the opening. Then he waved a hand towards it. ‘So what now? We go inside? What if it closes again, and we’re stuck in there?’
Elliott looked at him blankly. ‘Jesus, you’re one big scaredy cat these days! What happened to the great explorer? Maybe you are just getting old!’
‘I am not getting old,’ Will replied. He immediately stormed straight past Jürgen, who watched him with some surprise as he entered the tower without a second thought.
Chapter Seven
Chester and Parry had been deposited back on the shore by the marines in one of their high-speed inflatables. After all that had happened and the excitement of being on a submarine, it felt strange be on the wind-lashed beach again.
‘So do you reckon we can count them out? The Americans?’ Chester asked, as they began to walk towards the cliff.