Log 1 Matter | Antimatter Page 5

  The wind was escalating.

  He could sit it out or continue.

  Deciding to continue, he dragged his kayak around the sandy beaches to the west side and stared at his next island. It was a few hours away, and the water was already choppy. He checked his belongings and continued. Jamie kept his eyes on the island ahead, keeping to a rhythm, and tried to ignore the mass of cloud building to his left. Halfway across he ran into trouble, having heard the wind and rain well before it hit him.

  “It” was a severe squall.

  Clouds were heavy, dark and low, racing overhead. Thunder rumbled and filled him with adrenalin. Rain began to fall heavily. Wind speed increased, buffered him mercilessly, and he now had to fight the surface current. He kept paddling until a gust of wind threatened to capsize him. He angled his blade, leaned forward, positioned his blade to strike the water, flicked his hips, and leaned back, and rolled. He began paddling again and had to perform the roll action a few times until the wind died suddenly, and the rain began in earnest. He had to make a choice; blink the water from his eyes or stop paddling for a moment. Let’s see. Very close to the island so blink it was.

  When he felt the grind of sand beneath he could barely summon the energy to lift his arms but he had to get out and find shelter. It was getting dark already on a planet that had long days especially in this warmer season. Just his luck it was unnaturally stormy. He unclipped the skirt and climbed out, dragging the kayak behind him by leaning forward into the wind. He made it to the palms that were reaching towards him and found it less turbulent amongst an outcropping of boulders he stumbled upon, knee first. After doubling over and screaming profanities, he groped wildly in front of him, hit rock again, and forced himself slowly forward until he was clear of the worst weather. He dug in, just managing to form a shelter of sorts over his head, before he was finally able to rummage through his things. He checked all the bags were intact and, with a little difficulty, checked the contents were dry. He drank one container of water ignoring his heavy, trembling limbs and aching knee. That night he indulged in two food rations, a nut bar, and painkillers.

  For all his good intentions to remain awake and keep watch, Jamie fell asleep to the sounds of rain hitting his tarp, a rather useful item he found deep inside the kayak, and wind lashing the trees. The next thing he knew he was blinking his eyes open to the glorious day. He remained still pretending for just one moment his muscles weren’t going to scream at him, his knee wasn’t going to grieve him, and he was going to spend the whole day sunning himself. Just one more moment. “Right, enough of that shit.”

  Sure enough, fatigue and muscle soreness in his arms made him grunt and snarl with the effort to get moving. Jamie limped out over the drying sand and set off to the next island, just a speck on the horizon. As his muscles warmed with the gentle paddling motion they became less painful, but he ate a special protein bar as he glided through the dark waters to speed recovery. An injection filled with painkiller inserted directly into his knee helped too, once he stopped yelling. “Sorry, mates.” He had startled some low flying seabirds. “Time to get out my breather anyway.” He undid the skirt, pulled up the equipment and placed it on his lap and decided last moment to re-seal the skirt. The way was clearer with patchy clouds but caution was better. He paddled to a set of coordinates, spotted a low flying craft and prepared to roll. After he positioned himself, he leaned back and rolled. Jamie unsealed the skirt and pulled out his bags all the while staying under the kayak. He plucked the breathing device suspended close by and positioned it over his face. The base of the kayak was camouflage, taking on the color of water around it, so the label boasted. With his bag in tow, and flippers now secured on his feet, he swam down.

  As he reached the limits of his breathing apparatus, he spotted the hatch. He scissored his legs faster, saw the tube was lit orange, pressed down on the GELpad telling anyone else someone was coming through, and spun open the hatch. Flippers first, he moved slowly into the tube, closed the hatch and activated the “Drain and Pressurize” function. As the water drained, he slowly descended deeper into the tube. He allowed his body to relax until his feet hit the bottom. There was a panel a head size lower than his eyes. The light went blue and he took off his flippers and spun the hatch on the other side of the panel. A waft of filtered air refreshed him. He pushed his things through to the small room and closed the hatch behind him. The safety instructions included advice to refill the ocean to tunnel tube as it was more likely someone needed to enter in an emergency from that side.

  He’d been counting on the last person to have followed said instructions since blue really wasn’t his color. Jamie repaid the favor and peeled off his wetsuit, leaving it and the flippers in the small room. He left a note and almost wrote “Please return to owner” but he wrote “Please use”. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, having pulled out his tunnel tracker first, he headed for the main tunnel. An hour later, he arrived at a terminal and he jumped on an almost empty transport. It looked like a white capsule sitting on a single rail. He scanned the occupants but couldn’t identify any operatives.

  Jamie travelled via several capsules but exited before the main terminal. He ran down a maintenance tunnel the rest of the way. The stops were mostly at junctions with small food and drink shops. He’d read the larger junctions were tourist stops so he bought a T-shirt that had printed in bright red, “I stopped at the Deepest Junction.”

  In little time he reached his destination, delivered his package, dry and apparently in working order, and was allocated a transportal time to return to the secret base he considered home.

  His handler, wearing his new T-shirt, and the panel looked at his hand notes, and Jamie realized his mistakes. He’d given too much information because they were grilling him over and over about tiny details.

  On and on it went.

  Since Jamie was overtired with his internal voice picking his mission to pieces—with, “You sucked,” being the main theme along with, “Why did I do that?” and, “I should have done that,”—he watched a movie on a wall screen in his cell, cracked his knuckles and ate popcorn.

  His handler cracked open the door. “Good job.” He glanced around and laughed quietly. “So, you discovered the cell’s secrets.” Next, he tossed the pen and pad on the bed. “I liked the smiley faces by the way.”

  Jamie shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if it was a test so I scribbled pics and kept the info in my head. I just made sure I was thinking that I was writing in case I was being monitored.”

  With enigmatic smile his handler left.

  Jamie grinned, leaned over slightly, and locked the door. The cell had many hidden amenities that he had fun finding over the years, while some in the opulent rooms complained of strange, annoying noises and smells.

  A few days later, Jamie finished his morning run and slowed to a jog on the closest run track to his dorm when another jogger ran over and matched pace.

  “You’re wanted, Jamie, home room, twenty minutes.”

  He glanced at the male. “Thanks.”

  Jamie jogged back to his rooms and showered. This should be make or break time. The water ran over his skin, washing away sweat and tension. He dried and dressed in standard clothes—dark blue pants and white shirt. His shoes made little noise as he headed over to the home room in the main complex. He walked down the corridor, knocked at the door and a softly spoken recruit asked him to wait in a smaller room. While he waited he picked up an AM mag with “Fusion Warfare” splashed in red over the front cover. He’d taken several courses in hybrid wars and several sub courses that covered strategies and tactics. In fusion warfare the lines blurred between war, politics, combatants, and civilians. In Jamie’s mind every time decentralization stretched to a certain point the old ways would snap back like a rubber band into their original form. It needed just that little bit more to break the cycle or form to become something really new. Several minutes later, an inner door was opened and his handler invited him in. Jamie wa
lked in and sat, hearing the door click behind him.

  “Jamie, thank you for coming.”

  For a moment the thudding of his heart and labored breathing drowned out everything else but he forced himself to calm down and relax. This wouldn’t be the end of the world, just the end of fun.

  A few laughed and he realized he’d broadcast that.

  As he flushed slightly, his handler grinned at him. “Relax, Jamie. You’ve passed.” He walked over, touched his face, which shifted into a new shape, and held out his hand. “I’m Simon by the way. I was going to say welcome to the Aryan Military Black Ops Division but I think welcome to the fun may be more appropriate.”

  Jamie breathed out, took Simon’s freckled hand gratefully, and let out a laugh. Simon was a warlord, no wonder he had to use the face shifting tech. The ceremony was quiet, only him, Simon and several officials. His eyes widened when his father walked in, pride glowing on his face.

  “Jamie Livio Raner, you are one of the Sentinel Program called the Dragon’s Teeth.”

  His heart swelled. It was an older order with much mystery—one that, apparently, his father was a part of.

  Sub-Log V

  “Listen to this. A PuG has been created.”

  “There hasn’t been one for a thousand years.”

  Jamie almost laughed remembering Marc’s rendition of Maya cruising in the Cardinal Unit asking for a fill of Chaos to churn out a PuG. He glanced at the newly initiated black ops team. He was to work solo and/or in command, and hadn’t received the attache offer Marc had spoken of. In fact, he hadn’t heard any more about it until that very morning. He heard his desktop beep from his chair in the common room and walked into his room, scanning it first, and checked his messages. His assignment was in.

  “What the crap?” Jamie was fuming. “A damned babysitting mission.” He almost left the organization.

  As if feeling a disturbance in Jamie’s general energy, his handler visited him. “Jamie.”

  “Simon.” Habit made him polite.

  The redhead smiled, his real pale face and freckles well known to Jamie now. Simon looked around. “You’ve already packed up your room. You are either keen or don’t like your assignment.”

  “It’s a babysitting mission.” His voice betrayed his disgust.

  “It is. Let me tell you about it before you leave.” Simon closed the door, activated a Bulwark Mark Six, and launched into a description of the mission.

  Jamie’s mouth gaped open. “And you want me to look after her security?”

  Simon nodded. “You will have all the resources you want, and however many people you need. Full security teams. You’ll be liaising with all Aryan agencies, queens and kings, and the Cradle Warlords. You need to meet her adopted family. They aren’t what they seem, and Marc is going to become her ‘brother’. She cannot know who she is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are strict instructions from Maya via the CU. She is to be raised by Inferors, below Avatara…”

  Jamie stiffened a little and cracked a finger.

  “In time she will know but that’s not your job.” Simon glanced down at Jamie’s hands. “I thought you had that under control.”

  Jamie ignored his comment but surged with annoyance again, his nice illusion destroyed. He cracked his knuckles and snapped, saying, “I may leave so who cares?”

  “Jamie—”

  He lifted his hand to stop Simon. “But she’s a Pure-Gen.”

  “You will have full access to the instructions. We are … cheating the Maya.”

  Jamie thought quickly while also thinking about what jobs he could do with his current qualifications. “Because you are installing Aether beings to be her family.”

  Simon nodded and leaned back. “Only three in the AG know of what we do, half the Warlords, highest level AMs.”

  “So … government, military, and warlords, and Energy-matter Beings?” He’d have to work five years for the AM in some mundane job but it might be worth it.

  “Triaxial Milieu in the Aether, top officials only. Her adopted family is not the most powerful of the combinations, but they live in the buffer, closer to the Core. The longer they live in Aryan Space the less Aether they become.”

  “I don’t understand.” Estancia Station would be the best place for him to find good work. He might even return to Lyon 3 and be closer to Michael who was now a programmer in gaming tech.

  “They were specially chosen for another mission. Already living on one of our planets, having adapted to live outside their energy realm, they have some of our matter already. Their children are even closer to the Aryan forms, but the Aether pairs, you’ll meet them, are still unique. A powerful pair cannot be her guardians; they cannot form to solid state well.”

  “And that’s why you need me; I mean they need us to perform a function that they can’t meet?” Dicks.

  “Yes. And before you ask, we are allowing them to raise the girl because of our … agreement to becoming the Fourth Empire and Grand.”

  “What has the girl to do with that?” Poor kid.

  “Nothing, actually. But there is another being fabricated with Aether markers. Maya has instructions for that one to be sent to the three empires, she’ll be treated like a princess.”

  “The other one?” Only twice, as far as Jamie knew, had a pair of Pure-Gen been created. The famous Kavela and Sibella were just one pair.

  “A farmer’s daughter.”

  “I see.” Again, poor kid.

  Simon scratched his head. “You’re wiser than me then because none of us understand it.”

  Jamie laughed then, relaxing.

  “There is another element. It is thought the Establishment, a clandestine operation consisting of all races and headed by Pure-Gens, is involved somewhere.” Simon was trying not to smile now.

  Jamie’s eyes narrowed as he tried not to show his interest was piqued. “So, we’re allowing the Aether to help with our girl, and she’s a security risk then?”

  “We don’t know but since finding out we are … plain matter beings, not yet fully defined like the Dark Matter, Energy-matter, and Antimatter Beings, we can’t risk being vulnerable. We’re worried it will mean genocide. The girl is designated a Mobile Unit, whatever that is.”

  “I see.” He felt some excitement now, and nerves. “I’m reversing on my previous annoyance and now wondering why the hell you’ve chosen me.”

  “We didn’t exactly, though you were high on the list; the Aether chose you.”

  “From the Repco. Marc.”

  Simon nodded. “It started there. You’re at the top of our list too so don’t feel too privileged.”

  Jamie laughed. It was an old game they played. Simon would increase honesty the more he picked up. He vacillated for a few moments. And the mission seemed like a fusion warfare catalyst. He’d considered the other triggers and having a mobile unit linked to genocide was going to stretch all elements of society. “I accept.”

  “Good. I thought that once you learned how it overlaps into your favorite passion you’d accept.”

  Jamie laughed. “I’m not sure it’s my favorite passion but it’s nice to know all those hot debates about developing a truly new Aryan Society will—” Jamie nodded noting Simon’s sly grin. “That’s why I was chosen.”

  “You’re about to be embroiled in the messiest affair of all time and we need someone who is not well known, but well trained.” Simon leaned back in his chair. “The babes are still being fabricated, growing in embryonic sacs, and you’ve got five months but I’d start right away. Saratoga is your destination. There’s a homestead and you’ll need a place to live.” Simon sighed. “I’m a bit disappointed in you though.”

  Jamie studied his face, unable to work out if he was being serious or not. Simon leaned over and plucked up the pen and paper that Jamie decided to leave behind. He wrote something on the pad and held it up for Jamie to see.

  “Idiot?”

  Simon slappe
d the paper of the pad on Jamie’s bare arm and pulled it off. The words had disappeared. “You found all the secrets of the cell but you didn’t find out about the pen and pad.”

  Jamie snatched back the pen and pad with a snort, and studied them. He lifted and stared at his arm with the word “idiot” rising to the surface. “What the hell?”

  “It’s new nanite technology, nanites in the pen transfer to the pad where they bond, you place it on any surface and they rise keyed to your specific Superlunary signature.” Simon smiled. “You can even change the color just by speaking the words aloud. So, ‘blue’ and then you can adjust it by saying ‘cooler’ or ‘warmer’ or ‘darker’ etc.”

  After Simon left, Jamie returned to sit on the chair in the lounge. He looked around the room.

  “So, what does it all mean? Why’d the Maya even stop making Pure-Gens anyway?”

  The group kept talking but Jamie only half listened. This was it, his main assignment. A baby. A girl. A farmer’s girl. His first job was to move to mountainous Saratoga where he would be working. The Pure-Gen baby would live on the planet in Perza Station. The family was already living there in a homestead provided by Queen Silvia. Jamie had seen her images; she was a beautiful queen married to a doctor named Jon. He also accessed the region he’d be living; the mountains were wild looking with thick forests. Temperatures were cool with storms. He felt better already.

  ***

  Iota

  Station: Perza