A Brother's Shadow: Murder, Friendship and Deception, page 2
Archer spun on the spot, searching for any clues. Nothing. He looked over the cube again then slumped on the floor perplexed, aware of the time he was losing. He continually repeated the second sentence. Air was his first idea, but he did not see how he could take the cube to it. He looked around the room, but the only obvious object in there was the light.
Then, it came to him. He chuckled to himself at the riddle’s simplicity, slightly frustrated he had not thought of it sooner. He walked forward and held the box up to the light. It was immediately torn out of his hands and the light engulfed the box. Half a second later, absolute darkness took hold. Before Archer had time to respond, his arms and legs were seized. He tried to struggle, but whatever was grasping him was not letting go. It lifted him into the air. Horror shot through Archer as something surrounded his hands, feet and then his head. A tingling sensation buzzed around his skull. He yelled out but could not hear his own voice.
…
On the top floor of the academy was a long corridor with doors on each side. At the far end sat twelve fidgeting sixteen-year-olds, their nails shortening by the minute. In the middle of the group was a blackened glass door with the inscription: Commander Gregor, Head of Recruitment and Training.
Inside, Commander Gregor reclined his chair and rested one foot over the other on top of his desk. He placed a cigarette in his mouth. Cigarettes had long been illegal in Vytech colonies, however his involvement in their smuggling provided a useful side income and he always had a few packs stashed for personal use. As he puffed a plume of smoke into the air, Gregor thought how content he was with his work so far that day. It was his eighth year as Head of Recruitment, and he believed this year’s opening speech was his best yet. His communicator buzzed.
‘Shall I send them in now?’ a woman asked.
‘Not yet,’ Gregor said nonchalantly. He finished his cigarette and put it out it in an empty plant pot to his left. Gazing out of a window to his side, he watched as a trio of Cyclone Space Fighters performed manoeuvres. They were painted in the prestigious Vytech white which all other forces had learnt to respect. He wondered how long it would be before the Cyclones would be out of testing and enter mass production.
‘Knowing the pompous bloody perfectionists, probably a good ’alf century,’ he scoffed to himself. His mind drifted to when he used to be a pilot. Gregor did enjoy his job, but he dearly missed the adrenaline rush of combat. In his last bout, he had lost his right eye which, after reconstructions, was only evident due to the surrounding scarring. Otherwise, he would not have been tutoring, let alone training – in his own words – pathetic, childish pigs, day in day out. Snapping out of his momentary weakness, he pressed on his communicator.
‘Send them in.’
As the twelve teenagers entered, they instantly caught a whiff of an unfamiliar, pungent scent. Their eyes moved around the room. Its walls had posters with a mixture of rules, fitness regimes and quotes. In the far corner was an empty plant pot and on the desk in front of them was a single picture frame revealing only its plain back. Behind the desk, Commander Gregor was sitting with his head facing down into his plump, wrinkled hands which were clasped together.
‘Why do you think you are here?’ Gregor said quietly.
‘Excuse me, sir?’ one of the girls replied, instantly regretting her decision.
Gregor belted out his response, volume increasing with each word. ‘I said, why… do… you… think you are here?’
The group looked at each other, willing one another to speak, although the two closest to the desk seemed more concerned with their eyes which were becoming red and teary with the unfamiliar scent.
Finally, a boy to Gregor’s far left spoke. ‘We don’t know, sir.’
Gregor rose from his chair like a giant wave about to crash down on them. ‘I’ll tell you why. You are all utterly useless! I could get my dog to sit those tasks and get better responses. Which one of you is Jodie?’
The whole group looked to the floor. Then, the girl who had first spoke looked up. ‘Me, sir,’ she whimpered.
‘Oh, so you can hear me now.’ Gregor pressed on his desk, bringing up a one-way hologram that only he could see the details of. ‘You will be lucky if even those League scum let you near their ranks with your lack of logic. In all my years I have never seen anything like you… And do not mistake that for a compliment, as I know you might.’ Gregor paused and scanned across the others.
‘Ah, there you are. Mr Ruben Jenkins.’ Gregor shook his head. ‘Oh dear.’ He turned to pick something off the floor. As he rotated, he revealed a tattoo on his neck which was the emblem of the 9th fleet. Words peeked out beneath his collar but were illegible. When Gregor turned back round, he was holding a folder. There was no need for the use of paper, but Gregor liked the effect it had.
‘I can only hope for your sake you were having a joke in your tasks. And let me tell you, that’s some costly comedy you’ve got going.’ Gregor looked at the scruffy figure of Ruben who seemed untroubled by the fact he was going to lose his place in the civilisation. Rage started to build in Gregor’s face until it was pink. ‘You failed every fucking intelligence task!’ He tossed the folder to the floor in front of Ruben. Loose papers scattered around his feet with bold red letters spelling FAIL on each. Gregor then reached under his desk and pulled out a more substantial book.
‘You know what this is?’ he yelled, staring straight at Ruben. ‘It’s a printed version of the kindergarten curriculum!’ He threw the book with venom directly at the boy’s face. Ruben now appeared much more concerned than he had been and dodged the book by an inch. There was a huge crash as it rocketed against the back wall. ‘I suggest you read it. None of you shits shall be receiving Whites. Now leave!’ Gregor ordered.
Most the group were wiping tears from their faces as they scrambled to get through the door. As Ruben tried to follow, Gregor made a large grunt. ‘Are you not forgetting something?’ Gregor gestured towards the paper across the floor.
Ruben scuttled around, picking up each piece while Gregor glared at him, then hurried out the door, closing it behind him.
‘A coffee, sir?’ came the woman’s voice over the communicator.
‘That would be lovely,’ Gregor replied in a voice of tranquillity.
…
Archer writhed about like an animal being taken for slaughter. All he could hear was his heart pounding and his mind was becoming an uncontrollable chaos of thoughts.
Without warning, light returned, and Archer landed in the same room he had just left. The floor felt slightly different, and a variety of objects floated before him. Archer gradually regained balance and after clearing his forehead from a mat of hair, it dawned on him: he was in virtual reality. He figured it had begun as the wall took the cube when he was seized, and in the darkness, something had covered his head.
Archer reached out to grab the closest object. As soon as he touched it, he experienced a brief but sickening fall. The floor vanished and the walls, which had appeared to become infinitely tall, rushed past him. The instant he was no longer touching the object, the floor reappeared and he landed heavily. Puzzled, he walked to a different object and tentatively touched it. Again, the floor was gone. Archer immediately let go and stooped forward with a hand on his belly. A few seconds passed then he bolted upright. He had a plan.
Doubt entered Archer’s mind, but he quickly forced it out. He took a deep breath, then grasped one of the objects with both hands. The ground was ripped from beneath him and the walls whizzed past at an increasing rate. It was as if he had just leaped off a skyscraper. His grip tightened.
The downwards acceleration eventually subsided, and the walls began to pass at a constant speed. Slowly he became accustomed to the sensation and started to experiment. All the objects fell at the same speed, remaining in the original room-sized area around him. He soon found, by angling his body, he could direct himself through the air, but he still had no idea what to do with the objects.
Dragging one of the almost-weightless items with him at all times, Archer spent an uncomfortably long period drifting between the objects, trying to make sense of them. It soon became apparent they were pieces of a 3-D puzzle. He believed they were parts of a mechanical construct, but he could not decipher what. He wondered how much time he had left. It probably was two minutes before he had solved the riddle and at least two more before he had controlled the falling, and he had been floating for around three. He calculated he had roughly thirteen minutes left.
For the next two minutes, progress was non-existent. Archer hopelessly swatted at one of the objects, sending it into a violent spin off towards one of the walls. The thought of failure was striking him relentlessly. The piece he hit had rebounded of the wall and was bouncing off other pieces, causing them to drift in every direction. He cursed. ‘I’ve not helped myself there.’
A few seconds later, Archer noticed the bottom half of a seat floating towards him. By his side was the top half of the same seat, which was connected to some glass above it. Forgetting the object that he had been dragging, he enthusiastically went to grab the first half of the seat.
Archer was viciously snapped out of the fall and hit the ground once more. His body felt like it was being crushed and he nearly fell over due to the force of gravity. The top half of the seat was still on a trajectory towards Archer and only a moment from hitting him. As they collided, he grabbed hold. Going in and out of weightlessness so fast took a toll on his insides and he floated with closed eyes for a few moments.
With the bottom of the seat in hand, he soon also had custody of the other half. When he brought the two pieces together at the correct angle they attracted like magnets and held fast. It was a satisfying sensation. He then found another section of glass and it became obvious he was assembling the cockpit of a Sting Fighter. After piecing together the cockpit and fuselage, more pieces appeared around him. These were much easier to assemble as they were complete sections including the wings, engines, stabilisers, and the weapon stations. As Archer connected the last piece, there was a sizeable click. The walls decreased the rate at which they passed and then halted as Archer was gently brought down to the ground. The light started to flicker.
The silence was replaced with the ambient sound of industrial extractor fans. As the light re-stabilised Archer looked around to see he and the fighter were in a hangar of a transport ship. The fighter’s cockpit opened, inviting Archer to take a seat. There was a helmet waiting and he placed it on his head as he got in. His heads-up display was giving an overwhelming stream of information. A robotic voice began to talk.
‘Welcome, Francis. I am CAT, an AI who will be guiding you through the last part of this task. You are currently in a S1500 Sting Fighter and between you and your end objective is an asteroid field. Please take us there in one piece.’
The objective’s location appeared on Archer’s heads-up display as he searched for a way to start the engine. He had never been in a Sting Fighter before. ‘CAT, how do you start the engine?’
‘Just ask me.’
Rolling his eyes and letting out a slight sigh, Archer did as he was told. ‘CAT, please start the engine.’
There was an electrical whir that built into a rumble as if a thunderstorm had begun within the fighter. The whole craft was jittering around Archer. This continued for a few seconds until the engine kicked into full life, creating a deafening blast of noise.
‘Hooooly shiiiit.’ Archer was giddy as the power of the engine filled his bones. He pushed forward the joystick. ‘Here we gooooo!’ Archer’s words were forced back down his throat. He was unable to breath.
Within an instant, the fighter had exited the hangar and it was not long before the transport ship Archer had taken off from was no more than a speck falling away into the dark void of space. However, Archer had more to think about than his surroundings. He was closing in fast on the asteroids.
CAT’s voice sounded. ‘You have two minutes remaining and at this pace I calculate you will reach the destination in two minutes and fifteen seconds.’
Without responding, Archer pushed harder on the joystick. He had no idea how well he could control the fighter, but he had to try. The first space rock came towards him at a moderate speed. He used it as practice, yawing to the side. Completely underestimating the responsiveness of the Sting Fighter, it felt like his physical self was being torn from his consciousness. He let out a groan before straightening himself and the fighter. ‘Can you auto-pilot this?’
‘No, sorry, Francis.’
‘Don’t know why I asked.’ Archer returned focus to the asteroids ahead.
As Archer progressed, the asteroids started to pass at comfortable intervals and he was able to get more practice, but well before he felt ready, the intensity increased. Archer weaved beneath one meteor at least a kilometre across only to reveal a cluster of tiny fragments behind it. At his speed, evading them would not be possible so instead he clenched his teeth. As he entered the cluster, the noise was unbearable. It sounded like a hailstorm on a metal roof, only these hailstones were rocks. After a few seconds of the bombardment there was a sickening crunch of metal and the fighter violently jerked. Alarms blared inside the cockpit. Archer had to use all his strength to stop the fighter entering a roll and despite his best efforts, it was also diverting off course.
CAT spoke in her monotonous way. ‘Warning, severe right engine damage.’
There was one last thud and then, to Archer’s great relief, they were out the other side.
The glass canopy around him was covered in scratches, obscuring his vision. Archer inspected his left wing and saw grooves had been calved through the metal, exposing circuitry and piping. ‘Good job I don’t need to take this into atmospheric flight; it would be like trying to steer a firework.’
‘Atmospheric flight would not currently be advised,’ CAT confirmed.
Archer looked right to see a similar mess, but there was also a trail of smoke extending from the engine. Knowing there was little he could do for the engine, he turned to study his next challenge. Even larger asteroids were coming his way. Still straining against the fighter which wanted to veer off course, he travelled past the first set.
‘You have thirty seconds before task termination.’
‘It cannot be far past those,’ Archer prayed as he looked at two colossal asteroids which were inbound. His arms ached immeasurably, and his hands were pale from loss of circulation.
‘Twenty-five seconds,’ CAT continued.
There was a small gap between the two asteroids and the objective was on the other side. Archer saw that passing through the gap was his only hope to make it in time. CAT began to count down. ‘20, 19, 18…’
With the gap only seconds away, Archer knew it would be tight but if he got it right, it was doable. With an intake of breath, he entered the gap.
The bottom of the Sting scraped the asteroid, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. The impact forced Archer upwards, but his seat restraints dug in around his shoulders keeping him in place. A change in the gap’s shape meant he then had to roll 90 degrees. Light from the stars was blocked out as he entered the depths of the gap. The only light inside the cockpit came from the alarms which had not stopped wailing. Fortunately, one exterior light had survived the rock shower and lit Archer’s path. ‘Come on, girl. You can do this,’ Archer said, thrusting his body into the seat of the wounded fighter in an act to will it on.
‘13, 12…’
Without warning, the Sting shifted slightly left. Its wing caught one of the asteroids forcing it towards the grey wall. Archer shifted the joystick right, but he overcompensated and sent himself into the asteroid on the other side. In a fraction of a second, the fighter was obliterated and there was a blinding flash.
…
Archer hung in the middle of the padded room with the feeling of waking from a long dream. His limbs were being held by long robotic arms which extended from the back wall and his hands and feet were both inside boxes that contained a bizarre gooey substance. He looked up to see headgear that must have been covering his head. On it were a series of pads and wires which would have sent electrical impulses to his brain. The boxes came away and the arms lowered Archer down before retracting. The mechanism then quickly folded back into a compartment in the wall as if it had never been in the room. Archer collapsed, relieved only in the knowledge this floor would not be disappearing from underneath him.
4.
Marco walked briskly through the changing room searching for a locker with his name. The intelligence tasks had gone reasonably well but he had always been more concerned by the physical challenges. The lockers were in alphabetical order, so Marco had a long walk around the crescent-shaped room to find Thompson. The room smelt like any other changing room, with over-applied sprays clinging to the back of the throat. The air was thick, and the tiled walls were damp with condensation from recent showers. A pleasant surprise was provided by the floor which was almost dry due to thousands of pore-like holes sucking at regular intervals.
As Marco walked, he noticed Archer coming from the opposite direction. He was dripping with water and Marco marvelled at his six-pack and muscular arms. Marco considered, not for the first time, how it was no wonder that all the girls at school swooned over him. Archer then noticed Marco. Waving with one hand and holding his towel in place with the other, Archer’s face lifted.
