2041 Sanctuary (Dark Descent) (51 page)

Steiner swore. The system he was trying to access was quite alien to him; he was beginning to wonder if he could breach it after all.

‘What is it?’ Samson’s eyes searched the screen for signs of a problem he couldn’t possibly comprehend.

‘Hang on,’ Steiner said, distracted, ‘having – a problem here.’ He spun up another system, funnelling various data streams from one machine to another, trying to keep up the charade to the FBI mainframe that everything was as it should be.

Samson stepped closer. ‘Can you do this or not? If you can’t, then—’

‘Quiet, man! Just let me work.’

Gradually, protocol by protocol, Steiner turned the tide; he’d lost some battles but he was winning the war. After what seemed like hours, but was in actuality only thirty-five minutes, the FBI login screen, ensconced in its own window, flashed once and then displayed the message
ACCESS GRANTED
, in bold green lettering.

‘We’re in!’ Steiner navigated to the FBI’s internal menu system and scanned down the page. ‘It seems personnel files are held elsewhere.’

‘Most likely in D.C., on a stand-alone system.’ Samson indicated a heading entitled
Field Offices
. ‘What about that?’

Steiner entered the section Samson had suggested and scrolled down a list until he reached Los Angeles. Hitting the Enter key, Steiner assimilated the page, drilling down into the information within, flashing up page after page until he found something of real use. ‘This should help, I think.’ Steiner expanded a holographic map out of the screen and into the room.

Samson walked around the image of the L.A. office block, his face and body turned a mixture of blue and green by the projected graphic that now floated in front of him.

Steiner tapped a few more keys and added real-time locations for all staff within the building, a function designed to aid emergency services in the event of a fire or terrorist attack.

‘There!’ Samson jutted a finger at a small red figure seated at a desk on the fourteenth floor.

Steiner enlarged that section; the small floating tag above the virtual image of the person was now clearly visible as
Special Agent Taylor, B
. ‘Looks like your luck is in, Colonel.’

‘We’ll see.’

Steiner swivelled in his chair. ‘I’ll need your helmet’s communication frequency so I can establish a secure uplink to it.’

Samson handed it to him so he could swipe it over the computer’s induction port.

‘Automated failsafe tracing in progress, Professor,’ the A.I.’s voice interrupted through the office speaker system.

Steiner returned his attention to the screen. ‘152, can we stop the trace?’

‘Negative, Professor,’

‘How long until the system locates us?’ Steiner asked.

‘Sixty-three minutes, sixteen seconds and counting.’

A small box displaying the minutes and seconds as a countdown timer appeared in the top left hand corner of the wallscreen.

‘You’d better get—’ Steiner looked round to see the office door swinging shut and the colonel gone, ‘going.’

Turning back to his computer, Steiner set-up a coms link to the colonel’s combat system and fitted a small device to his right ear. ‘Colonel, if you can hear me, you have sixty-three – no – sixty-one minutes to get to, in and then back out of the field office.’

‘Roger, that,’ Samson’s voice replied.

‘I’m connecting to the live video feed from your helmet’s camera,’ Steiner continued, tapping away at his keyboard, ‘and I’ve already taken control of the building’s internal and external surveillance streams. I should be able to guide you inside and to your target, hopefully without them knowing you’re there.’

Samson confirmed he’d received the extra information, leaving Steiner to contemplate the possible ramifications of his actions.
Everything will be fine
, he told himself. They won’t even know he’s there.
He has camouflage on his armour and an inside track on his surroundings; this is what he’s trained to do. What could go wrong?
A lot – was the answer that sprung to mind.

With the seconds and minutes ticking by on-screen, Steiner’s tension grew. His neck became tight as he leant forwards, bunching up his shoulders to watch real-time video footage of Samson driving to the FBI building. Thankfully the field office was only a short drive from where he now sat, a convenience no doubt premeditated by the colonel long before they’d even arrived in The Golden State.

Steiner watched everything from Samson’s perspective on his wallscreen as he approached the imposing seventeen storey building that was the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s L.A. field office. The camera angle panned up, the colonel surveying the fourteenth floor using his visor’s spectral scanners. Steiner looked to the window displaying the multiple camera feeds from the FBI’s own internal security system. Carefully, he manipulated the field of view on the cameras and created a clear path to an emergency exit on the far right of the structure, enabling Samson to enter unnoticed. Now deep within the FBI network, Steiner also set about unlocking a route through the building to Special Agent Taylor, by disabling the digitally activated bolts that were used to prevent access to various areas of the office complex.

‘You’re good to go, Colonel,’ Steiner told Samson over the radio, ‘I’ve just sent the real time 3D render of the building to your visor. Follow the path I’ve laid out for you and your presence will go unnoticed by the security guards, you should also be able to dodge any agents by utilising the same image.’

‘Copy, that,’ Samson replied, arcing his path round to intercept Steiner’s route.

‘Professor,’ the A.I. said, its expression on the screen mirroring the concern in its voice, ‘I have encountered an unforeseen issue, line sixteen hundred and twenty-seven in your command code is invalid, please advise.’

Steiner’s attention flew back to his command window. Frantic, he searched for the problem raised by 152. There it was; an innocuous segment of text, a search string and value which he’d entered in error. As he rushed to correct the issue, retyping a few commands, the A.I. spoke again. ‘System spike, information interrupt. Connection lost, Professor.’

Steiner looked to Samson’s video window and saw a metal-clad hand pushing open an emergency exit door. ‘Colonel, stop, go back! The FBI has regained control of the system. We’re blind! Abort!!’

‘Are you fucking kidding me?!’ Samson’s voice crackled over the speakers.

Steiner saw Samson hesitate in the doorway.

‘System breach detected, Professor,’ the voice of 152 told him. ‘Trace protocol prioritised, time until completion, twelve minutes, eight seconds and counting.’

‘Oh my God.’ Steiner watched in horror as the timer on the screen rapidly descend until it read the new time. A flashing red light brought his attention back to the image relayed from Samson’s helmet. A beacon pulsed on and off in the corridor and a siren echoed through Samson’s two-way com system as Steiner spoke to him. ‘Colonel, get out of there!’

But Samson didn’t reply, instead he started into the building at a jog.

‘What are you doing?!’ Steiner yelled as he tried to slow the trace instigated by the FBI.

Samson continued his advance, without deviation.

‘Colonel!’ Steiner said, watching in disbelief as Samson walked boldly through an automatic door and into the building’s main lobby, a large depiction of the FBI emblem visible on the immaculate tiled floor before him.

Steiner saw Samson’s left arm move over his shoulder, drawing down a strange looking weapon which he then fired into the security scanners in front of him. A pulse of energy shot forwards, sending a devastating explosion ripping through the atrium. Debris flew in all directions. Security guards who had been heading towards Samson, their guns raised, were blown backwards, while other people dived for cover.

‘Dear God,’ Steiner whispered in shock, the realisation of the colonel’s actions sinking in, ‘what have I done?’

Chapter Twenty Nine

Richard Goodwin waited with trepidation for the arrival of Commander Hilt. An emergency meeting had been called by the Darklight leader, its purpose as yet unknown. Whatever had transpired, it had to be important as other officers from the black-clad security force filtered into the large command tent. Lost in abstract thought, Goodwin paced around the back of the enclosure away from the gathering soldiers, his mind inexorably returning to recent events like a honey bee drawn to nectar.

A few weeks had passed since Goodwin and Kara had experienced the incident with the light in the abandoned Anakim city and Goodwin had, understandably, been on edge throughout that period. He’d never felt comfortable in the endless darkness of Sanctuary, his depression only held at bay by Kara’s company. Now, however, the black pit they were forced to endure had evolved into something far more sinister. Areas of the camp he’d once sauntered through, he now avoided. Basically, anything that wasn’t touched by light, whether directly or by reflection, he gave a wide berth, fearful of what might be lurking within.

His anxiety, Goodwin knew, had been well founded, but the fact of the matter was no further contact or sightings of the wraithlike glow had since been reported. Commander Hilt’s recon teams, sent to investigate the disturbing phenomenon, had returned with nothing. Goodwin, ignoring an inner voice that shrieked in ardent opposition, seemingly throughout every fibre of his being, had even ventured back to the city with them to make sure they’d searched the correct building; they had and many others in the immediate vicinity besides, all turning up no trace, except for the odd half print from one of Goodwin or Kara’s own shoes.

Ever since security had been stepped up around the camp, word had spread like wildfire amongst civilians and Darklight contractors alike about Goodwin and Kara’s encounter with the entity. Initially the tale had taken on a life of its own, but Goodwin and Hilt had been quick to play it down in order to keep a semblance of calm amongst the people. Even though Goodwin’s, and to a similar extent Kara’s, nerves remained suitably frayed, everyone else around them, as the days and weeks drifted by, appeared to forget the event had even occurred. Goodwin was pleased, of course, that panic had not ensued; although peoples’ indifference to what could only be described as a threat only served to add to his continued unease.

‘Ten-hut!’ one of the Darklight officers said, and every soldier snapped to attention in response.

Commander Hilt strode into the tent, his XO, Major Offiah, at his side.

‘At ease, Darklight.’ Hilt moved to stand near Goodwin, his men forming up to look in his direction. ‘Sir,’ Hilt said in his deep voice, acknowledging Goodwin.

‘Commander,’ Goodwin replied, with a nod of his head.

Soon after a few civilians arrived and filed into the room, Kara among them. She gave Goodwin a questioning look, as if asking what the meeting was about. Goodwin returned the expression with one of his own and an almost indiscernible shrug of his shoulders. He had no idea either. Behind Kara were a few people from Goodwin’s old Steadfast management team and, bringing up the rear, Sergeant Alvarez, the commanding officer from USSB Sanctuary’s captured U.S. Army Decontamination Team.

‘That’s everyone, Commander,’ the dark skinned African, Major Offiah, told Hilt.

‘Thank you, Major.’ Hilt cleared his throat. ‘You’ve all been called here, because of a discovery made by one of our patrols a few hours ago. Such is its nature and implications I believe it’s imperative we act both immediately and unanimously.’ Hilt glanced to his right hand man. ‘Major, if you will.’

Major Offiah placed a small screen onto one of the flimsy tables in the middle of the room and powered it up; everyone else, including Goodwin, shuffled forwards in an attempt to get an unobstructed view of the display.

A black and white pixelated image started playing and resolved itself into a clear colour picture.

‘This footage,’ Hilt said, ‘was recorded by a helmet-cam during a routine sweep on the west coast of the lake.’

Goodwin watched the footage unfold. The small Darklight team, seven or eight people strong, roamed the area around the western shoreline, the controlled sweeping movements of their light beams intersecting one another as they utilised a set formation for the patrol. 

‘What’s that?’ a voice could be heard saying, close to the head-cam operator.

The direction of the camera angle shifted when the wearer moved their head in the direction of the speaker’s voice. ‘What’s what?’ another voice said, a woman’s, loud enough, Goodwin assumed, to be the owner of the helmet that had recorded the video they now watched.

‘A light, in the distance,’ the other soldier said, excited, ‘there, can’t you see it?’

The woman swore before getting on her radio as those around her, weapons now raised, fanned out into a defensive configuration and slipped into a purposeful jog towards the distant light, now visible on screen.

‘Command, this is Lieutenant Manaus.’ Her voice shook as she ran to keep pace with her colleagues. ‘Contact sighted, at our location, in pursuit, over.’

‘Roger that, Lieutenant,’ the communication came back. ‘We’ll reroute another team to your coordinates. Keep us posted.’

‘Copy that, Command, Manaus out.’

Goodwin watched with bated breath as the Darklight team converged on the light, which shimmered and distorted strangely before blinking out of existence.

‘Fuck, where did it go?’ Manaus slowed to a walk near the water’s edge. ‘We were right on top of it.’

A Darklight man appeared in front of the camera from out of the darkness. ‘Into the water, that’s the only place it could go, we had it penned in.’

‘Lieutenant!’ another voice said, drawing Manaus even closer to the shoreline and a muddy strip of land separating the lake from the hard earth of the chamber’s floor. ‘You need to see this.’

The head-cam moved over to a man who had dropped to his haunches and was peering down at the patch of earth before him, the ground illuminated by a torch on the side of his rifle. When Manaus approached, he looked round, his face etched with concern. ‘Take a look,’ he said.