Convergence (7 page)

“What is
that
?”

He snapped his attention to the view screen.

They’d not dared put on lights for fear of alerting the Alliance to their presence, and had projected on the view screen of each submarine a “night vision” depiction of the world outside. Fish of bizarre shapes avoided the submarine fleet, painted into shades of neon green on the display. But what he saw now were views that stunned him.

He saw an underwater shipyard much like the one they’d departed several days earlier on the southeastern shore of Headquarters Island. He saw a fleet of submarines of all sizes and shapes affixed to the dock, preventing the vessels from floating away. He wondered why they’d have a dock. Surely they couldn’t board the vessels at such depths, could they? The water pressure at this depth would crush them. And even if it didn’t, exposure would kill them due to hypothermia. He doubted the Alliance would be keen to suffer either fate. So how did they manage the boarding process?

As he pondered, he watched as a spherical vessel moved along at a steady pace. The sphere emitted a faint light. Athos moved to the clear glass and looked outside. He could see the glowing sphere from here even without sensors. In the complete darkness, it stood out like a lighthouse beacon. He moved back to the “night vision” view screen and watched as the sphere hugged the submarine dock with perfect precision, completing a path in the shape of a vertical oval before moving toward the landmass before them. It slid inside, but not before he saw just enough.

The sphere glided along an underwater track.

And another one emerged from the same tunnel the original had just entered.

“It’s a
subway
system,” he breathed. “An underwater subway system. They must teleport into and out of those spheres directly from the submarines. And those spheres… they carry them from the submarines into that tunnel and directly into the Alliance base.”

Scott walked up to him, eyes wide, a broad grin upon his face. “It’s amazing, sir. They’ve been here a long time if they’ve built this. Look at the sheer number of submarines docked. This isn’t a temporary home for a handful of surviving Alliance, is it?” He clapped Athos on the back. “We’ve found them, sir.” He stepped back, as if afraid he’d be executed for the familiar gesture.

But Athos didn’t care.

He moved to the communication station, and the operator stepped aside and handed over the headset. Athos asked the man to open a connection to the fleet, and he asked that the men stand by as he contacted the Leader to report their findings.

He initiated the connection to Headquarters himself.

“This had better be good, Athos,” the Leader said as he answered. “We have a bit of a situation developing here.”

Athos swallowed before replying.

“Sir, I’m pleased to report that the men and I have located the entrance to the Alliance base. The rebels utilize an underwater subway system traversing a tunnel hewn into the Antarctic landmass. The entrance features a dock where a large fleet of submarines rest. The Alliance use the subway system and short-range teleportation for entry and exit from inbound and outbound submarines, explaining the gradual build of Energy over the course of centuries. That Energy eventually percolated through the water to the north and eventually to the surface. The entry is approximately twenty-seven miles south-southeast from the original target zone. It mattered not, sir. We have, without question, found the Alliance base.”

He waited.

Finally, he heard the Leader’s response. “Well done, Athos. Well done. You are free to commence the attack at your discretion.”

The Leader disconnected, and Athos heard the roar of excitement over the communication system and aboard the Chameleon. The warriors were ready for battle, and Athos had now provided them a target for their aggression. The Leader had given them permission to proceed. But Athos didn’t notice any of it.

He’d only noticed the first compliment ever paid him by the Leader.

His joy overwhelmed any curiosity about the “situation” at Headquarters Island mentioned by the Leader in paying that compliment.

The invasion began in silence
. It was the way of the Alliance.

Three massive flying ships, far larger than the single-occupant spheres generally used, descended from the clouds without detection, invisible to the human eye and electronic sensors. The size of the ships prevented the use of the typical landing site in the forest near the human settlement. Instead, they touched down on the rocky shore to the east of the human village, where they’d find little human or Aliomenti interest. They’d made the entire trip encased in nanoskeletons and had purged the ships of Energy before leaving the Cavern the previous day. The walls of each ship turned permeable after each warrior turned invisible, and each invader floated through those walls into the salty air of Headquarters Island. The commander of each ship pressed a single button on a wrist remote, sending the three empty ships back to the Cavern.

The remotes dissolved. They’d not leave until the cessation of fighting. Arrangements for transport home would happen at that time for the survivors. They’d taken a vote. No cloning. They’d accept their respective fates in the battle. Dying here was permanent death for each of them. It hadn’t been his suggestion, and he’d actually voted against the proposal. But the message was clear. For those who’d chosen to fight, closure was more critical than survival.

They tested the audio communicators they’d use. Nano technology had never evolved to blocking audio waves; if he sneezed, he’d be heard. Voice communication without telepathy was required. They each wore small microphones and tested the equipment, developing an understanding of the minute decibel level required. It wasn’t telepathy, but it was close.

Will moved inside his nanoskeleton and flipped down the transparent glass eye shield. His team remained invisible to all sensors, but each of them wore a special transmitter that allowed the glass to simulate their appearances. Will could thus “see” the twenty-nine traveling with him, which better enabled coordination for the events to come.

They set off for the human village, flying via nanos, not daring themselves to walk or run. A single spy might walk without attention, but thirty invisible invaders would generate too much noise with footfalls to remain unnoticed.

They arrived at the outskirts of the human village twenty minutes later and formed two lines. The lines stretched as they moved, the lead for each group traveling north and south respectively, moving around the habitable section of the village and just beyond the monorail station, until they’d formed a perimeter fence of the Alliance. Will could “see” everyone, and they all adjusted to ensure roughly equal spacing between each person.

Once settled, each of the invaders expanded his or her nanoskeleton to form a working, sheltered perimeter before removing the backpacks. Will and Hope had packed the bags several weeks earlier, and Will had borne the responsibility to ensure they made it to the Island. Hope wouldn’t have the space in her sphere for the material, and she’d argued that her early presence here to set other defensive equipment exposed her to risk. If she was lost…

Will hadn’t listened after that. But he took the backpacks with him for the return trip to the Cavern.

The disks inside resembled the compact disks Will remembered from his youth, though significantly thicker. He pulled out the small shovel in the bag and pushed into the soil at his feet. A few seconds later, he dropped one of the disks into the hole and replaced the dislodged soil. The cover-up didn’t require perfection. It would matter only if the disks were discovered and removed, or destroyed in their entirety over the next few hours. If they remained in place that long, discovery wouldn’t matter. Will moved two feet to his right and repeated the process, glancing up as the flecks of light projected on the visor moved. Each member of the team performed the same steps, gliding to the side to plant the next disk into the ground.

He patted the dirt down atop the last of his disks and glanced to his right. He spotted the slight disturbance in the ground where the nearest warrior had begun the planting exercise. Perfect. “Will Stark. Complete.” He spoke the words at a subvocal level, then listened. One by one, each member of the team reported in, doing so in a prescribed order, each waiting until his or her turn to speak. Will waited until the last person spoke and took a deep breath.

“Phase 1 complete. Move out.”

The flecks of light in his visor moved straight up and converged above the monorail station. The dots of light swayed with the light breeze that blew across the Island, and Will closed his eyes, hoping the breeze would carry from him the stress of the moment. He moved in silence with the others as they boarded the top of the monorail train for the thirty minute trip to Headquarters. It would be the last time the Alliance would travel in such a manner.

It was the last phase of the operation they’d conduct from the shadows.

The wave of unease hit him as the breeze buffeted him, unleashed by the rising speed of the train he rode. This was in so many ways his plan, the details given life by the greatest tactical mind the world had known. But though they’d executed the first few phases smoothly, pending eventual check-in from Ashley, he knew it couldn’t last. Portions would go wrong. The Aliomenti would react in ways they’d never anticipated.

Friends of his—including some aboard the train now—would die.

The sound of the wind hurtling past hid the sound of his guilty retching, dry heaves accompanied by tears. If he’d taken action years ago, if he’d eliminated the threats himself from the shadows with the technology he’d possessed decades and centuries earlier, none of this would be necessary. His failure to act would literally kill people.

He felt an invisible hand of reassurance, drawn to him by the deep emotion he’d emitted. He reached to his shoulder and grasped Hope’s hand, felt the comfort it brought. She alone knew of the guilt; he’d expressed it on many occasions in the final months and weeks leading to this day. She’d offered him comfort as best she could, but recognized no words would soothe his soul. He’d get comfort only when this war they’d initiated ended.

The train at long last slowed to a halt. They waited, anticipation mounting, as the human passengers disembarked. The flecks of light then flew up and away from the train again, ringing the Plaza surrounding the mammoth Headquarters monolith. Will checked his positioning against the flecks of light visible on his visor, ensuring proper spacing. He then pulled the shovel and first disk from the pack on his back and set to work. It was, he thought, like planting a seed for a giant tree. He, and the others digging in silence around the Plaza, would not be the ones who’d directly benefit from their work. It would be others, people who might never know their names or motivations, who’d owe their future safety, happiness, and survival to their work. It helped ease his mind of the unbearable guilt somewhat. At least
some
good would come of their work here today.

He felt a wave of nostalgia, remembering those who’d sacrificed everything to help them reach this point. The dozens of Alliance who’d toiled in silence, maintaining the secret of his birth, all so that he and Hope could meet and bear the children who’d rescue him and send him to the past. Those men and women would receive no thanks for their sacrifice. Will had gone to the distant past with his memory of their actions, scant though they were, erased from his mind. In many ways, it was the ultimate cruelty, to force those who’d benefit from your good deeds forcibly prevented from remembering those deeds. Yet they’d done it. Perhaps it was altruism. Perhaps they’d simply attracted to the Alliance people who’d, by their nature, step forward when the world needed volunteers for a thankless, dangerous mission. Perhaps it was practical, and they’d offered assistance knowing that Will’s survival and the births of Josh—Fil—and Angel were the key to their own altered existences. They’d fought for the right to be discovered in Will’s past and become part of the magical experience of life with the Alliance.

He wiped an invisible tear from his eye. He needed to save the reminiscing for the day when all of the fighting ended.

He tapped the dirt down atop the final disk. At this point, the only risk was the Porthos issue Hope had witnessed the day before. They’d discussed the issue in depth, and decided not to scrap this phase or alter it at this late date. It might destroy the effects of this particular phase of work—Will tamped down the dirt covering a disk and moved to the next spot—but the benefits outweighed the risks. They had their contingency plan in place. Hope’s quick thinking in having Porthos wipe the gel from his hands might make the concern moot, after all.

He needed to remain positive. It was all he
could
do. For the first time in centuries, they had no memory videos of the coming hours and days to tell them that the sacrifice and the risks would be worth it. They had no means to determine who would live and who would die. It was both terrifying and delightfully freeing, a true walk into the unknown. He suspected it was the reason he’d been outvoted on the cloning option; people wanted something other than a memory deciding their fate.

Will listened. One by one, he counted as each member of the team reported completion, letting him know that they’d completed tilling their own plot of land with the strangest “seeds” ever planted. He counted down, checked in with those running late. The “digging” phase was now complete.

He’d not heard from the thirty-first member of the team, though.

Will pulled the tablet computer from his pouch inside the expanded nanoskeleton and checked his communications link. It had been quite a feat getting their own private virtual data network running here on Headquarters Island, and a greater feat to keep it a secret from the prying eyes of the Aliomenti. The Aliomenti were likely to make the reasonable assumption that the Alliance would bring to Headquarters Island weapons for a physical fight. They’d thus have no reason to worry about an electronic form of warfare.