Creations (21 page)

“Yes, but there’s no time to tow them one by one, all they can do is disable them and leave them dead in the water then round them up later.”

“Assuming they don’t drift too far,” Safi said.

They listened in for a few minutes as the boats hunted down the rogue Prospectors, radioing back and forth between themselves and the complex every time a new one was spotted. The displays in the operations room showed which parts of the boundary each one had crossed, but there was no way of finding their current position. Only the boat crews could do that.

“We need someone in the air,” Max said. “Someone to coordinate the boats.”

“I’ve asked Garrett to do that,” Victor said. “He’ll be here soon. An extra pair of eyes might be useful if you want to join him.”

Max thought for a second. “Sure, it’s better than hanging round here. Let me get changed, and I’ll meet him on the helipad.”

He rushed back down to the workshop level to pick up some coveralls and a lifejacket, then he went out to where Garrett was getting ready.

“You got us playing hide-and-seek today?” Garrett said, opening the helicopter’s door.

“Looks like it,” Max said, climbing in.

They took off and flew low, out over the ocean. Their course took them right out over the box, almost from one side to the other, and at every point along the way at least one Prospector was in view. Some of them were stationary, in various stages of replication, but others were on the move, either repositioning themselves within the box or heading back toward the drop zone. Their wakes were clearly defined and Max could easily see how they were manoeuvring to spread themselves out while avoiding collisions. There was no communication between them, just the same simple rules built into each one, obeyed repeatedly throughout the population. At first Max couldn’t help marvelling at the achievement that this sight represented, but then he reminded himself why he was having to take this flight at all. Obviously, somewhere along the line, something had gone badly wrong.

Once they’d reached the eastern edge of the box they began to follow its perimeter. Max looked out into the open sea, using binoculars to check anything that caught his eye. Only two minutes had passed before he spotted his first target, the twin sails of a Prospector jutting up from the horizon. Garrett guessed it was about two miles away so Max broadcast its position to the nearest of the boats. He saw the boat heading off in response, rushing underneath them to go and make the rendezvous.

He saw more and more rogue Prospectors as they continued round, each one taking its seemingly random course toward
freedom. He also saw how the boat crews were disabling each one they came across, disconnecting the power in a reversal of the action that had brought each one to life. With their control systems out of action, their aerofoil sails would just spin freely like weathervanes, providing no propulsion at all. Disabling each one took only minutes, but as more and more Prospectors crossed the boundary, it soon became clear they were losing the race.

The transmissions from the boats and the complex were getting more urgent now, as the number they had to deal with got larger. As Max flew along the boundary, it seemed there were just as many Prospectors on the outside of the line as on the inside. The only clue as to which side was which was that some of the vehicles on the outside had been deactivated, but there were plenty of them still in motion, and the furthest ones were now over five miles away. Then another transmission came through, a voice that Max recognised as Victor’s.

“All boat crews, all boat crews. Do not use the power supply cut-off to deactivate the machines. It’s taking too long. Use the fire axes to cut the power lines, and move on to the next one as quickly as possible. Spend less than two minutes on each one. Just get them all stopped for God’s sake!”

Max almost thought he could detect a note of panic in that last statement. He didn’t know exactly how many vehicles they were looking for now, but it was obviously a lot more than when they’d started. How on earth five speedboats were supposed to catch them all was beyond him.

By now they were flying a few miles outside the boundary, since spotting the ones that had strayed the furthest had become a priority. At one point they passed over a group of eleven or twelve Prospectors, seemingly racing each other to leave the islands behind. The boat that was dealing with this section of sea had been joined by another faster boat, which had been assigned to give help wherever one wasn’t enough. Max could clearly see the two crews, almost ramming each Prospector in an attempt to
get alongside quickly enough, then scrambling over with the axes from the boats’ fire-fighting kits to hack furiously at the power switch access panels. Each dead Prospector was soon surrounded by a wake of green debris where their sides had been cut open.

Max was just wondering how far from being able to cope they really were when another transmission from Victor came through his headset, and this time it was meant for him.

“Max, we need you on the west side of the box, about four miles out. It’s urgent.”

“We can be there in a few minutes. What’s the matter?”

“One of them is heading for the shipping lanes. We’re expecting traffic there today, so it has to be stopped. But there’s no time to send a boat after it.”

“What do you expect me to do? We can’t tow it from a helicopter.”

Max was sure Victor hesitated before answering. “Someone needs to board it and use an override kit to turn it round. We can get a boat out to it later, but someone has to bring it back in, at least some of the way.”

“And by someone, you mean me?”

“You’re the only one in a position to do it, Max. It’s not going fast, you won’t be in any danger. Just get on board and steer it round, then we’ll send someone out to you when we can.”

Max couldn’t believe what he was being asked to do. Garrett had heard the whole conversation and was looking over at him expectantly.

“What do you want to do?” Garrett said.

“I don’t know. Let’s take a look at this thing at least.”

They headed back toward the box, then crossed it again from east to west. Similar scenes of mass slaughter were taking place on this side of the perimeter as the boat crews did their best to immobilise their targets. But for every Prospector they’d stopped, at least three more were still active. No wonder they couldn’t be spared to go four miles for just one of them.

They carried on in a straight line as Garrett used the helicopter’s navigation system to follow the course Victor had given them. This Prospector must have been one of the first to escape to have got this far, and had only been spotted thanks to an eagle-eyed crew member on one of the boats they’d just passed. The sun was in their eyes flying in this direction, so it was hard to see into the distance, but Garrett and Max spotted it almost simultaneously. Its wake had been bent into a meandering series of S-bends by the ocean waves, but the vehicle itself was pressing on regardless, sailing purposefully into the distance on its chosen course.

“There’s your ride home,” Garrett said when they’d caught up. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Max looked at the vehicle below them and for a moment had second thoughts. The only reason Victor was so keen to get it back was because of his fears of what might happen if it fell into the wrong hands. The gold they were collecting would be next to worthless if others could copy the process. But Max was probably just as eager as Victor to see the thing stopped, even if his motivations were different. He decided to go for it. “I’ll be okay as long as you can keep us steady,” he said. “If I fall in, the lifejacket will keep me safe.”

Garrett flew down alongside the Prospector, twenty feet to its right and just three feet above the surface. Then Max released his harness, took off his headset, and twisted round to face out of the door. The air from the rotors battered his face as he leant out, and the sea below them seemed to be flashing past at an impossible speed. It hadn’t looked this fast from higher up. He told himself that only their low altitude made it look that way, but he still didn’t feel safe. However he didn’t have time to change his mind. In one smooth motion Garrett drifted over to the left, then back to the right, while Max jumped out onto the Prospector at the point of closest approach.

He had to struggle to keep his balance, and lunged out with
his left hand to grab any part of the craft he could get hold of. In his right hand he was holding the override kit he’d taken from the helicopter’s cabin, and the temptation to drop it and steady himself with both hands was overwhelming. The craft was rocking violently from the force of his landing, and even though Garrett had moved away, the helicopter’s downdraught was throwing up sea spray, stinging his eyes.

He tried to shift his position to get a better footing, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time and was doing everything by touch. He knew he was standing on top of one of the craft’s flotation tubes, and he could feel that the surface was wet and slippery beneath him, but as long as he could keep a firm hold on the superstructure and time his movements to the motion of the craft, he thought he’d be okay.

He felt like he’d moved about six feet along the length of the thing when suddenly his feet went out from under him and he tumbled down the side of the tube and into the water.

The next few seconds were chaotic. Somehow he’d managed to grab hold of something on the side of the tube, and was being dragged alongside. Even with the lifejacket his head was barely above the waterline, and if he tried to raise his head to take in air, the water was forced up his nostrils and down his throat. The panic was rising in him as he tried to breathe, turning his head as far to the side as he could to reach the air, coughing and retching saltwater the whole time. He was having to breathe in time with the rocking of the vehicle, which by now was even more violent, and the fear of drowning was strong in his mind. Somehow, however, he knew he couldn’t afford to let go.

The override kit was still with him, but he knew that he’d need both hands to get back on board. He managed to take one large breath, then he shut his eyes, tucked his head down under the water, and threw the thing as hard as he could, forward and to the side. He was aiming for the top surface of the Prospector, but he had no way of knowing whether he’d hit it or not. Then
with both hands free to hold on, he grabbed whatever handholds he could and pulled himself up about a foot out of the water. He was having to pull continuously to keep himself up against the force of the flow, but at least here he could breathe. His arms were aching and trembling from the effort, and he knew he couldn’t stay like that for long, so he pulled himself up even further then made a grab for the top of the tube. It took five or six heaves to get him on the top surface, holding on desperately while he got his strength back. It felt like every muscle in his arms and shoulders was in pain, and the exhaustion and the seawater he’d swallowed were making him want to vomit. He was dimly aware of the sound of the helicopter, still flying alongside but not so close now. He knew he should signal to Garrett that he was okay, but somehow he couldn’t move. Whole minutes went by as he lay there regaining his strength.

Eventually he got up onto his hands and knees and twisted round to look for Garrett. The helicopter was off to the side, keeping its distance, and he could see Garrett looking at him in concern. Max waved at him briefly to show he was all right, then started to look round for the override kit. It had landed just inboard of the flotation tube he was straddling, so he crawled back slowly and picked it up. He could still feel himself slipping on the wet surface of the craft, but now he could see where he was going and he knew to take it slowly.

Once he’d collected the override kit he sidled up along the top surface of the tube until he found the interface point where it plugged in. The rocking motion had subsided now and Max felt more sure of himself. He straightened up, opened the back of the small handset, and unfolded the bundle of cables to connect it to the Prospector’s control system.

There were almost a dozen wires that had to be plugged in, and the attachment points looked like wormholes in a piece of infested wood. A diagram printed on the front of the unit showed which wire went where, but he had to stop and think a couple of
times to make sure he got it right. It was almost as if the positions of the holes had shifted slightly compared to the way they’d been designed on the first machine. Looking round him he could see that wasn’t the only difference. Most of the features of this Prospector seemed to be distortions of the original, not significantly different, but enough to show that things hadn’t been copied correctly. He’d wait with interest to see exactly what had happened here.

Then, with the craft under his control, he commanded the rudder to the left and steered round one hundred and eighty degrees to face back toward the box. The wind was from the side, so he played with the angle of the sails until he felt he had the best speed he could get. He was no sailor, but at least this would get him home.

Once Garrett was sure Max was safe, he headed back toward the island. Now Max was on his own. He did his best to find a comfortable position on top of the craft, and settled himself down for the journey back.

* * *

A long three hours passed before Max approached the island. His course had taken him straight back into the box, and he’d spent most of the journey dodging other Prospectors as they drifted all around him, seemingly at random. Sunset wasn’t far away, but eventually one of the ESOS boats came out to greet him and tow him the rest of the way. Max asked the crew what the latest news was.

“We got them all,” one of them said. She looked exhausted. “We’re rounding up the dead ones now.”

“How many did we lose?” Max asked her.

“Over two hundred,” she said.

And as they approached the harbour, Max saw for himself just how many had been involved. The Prospectors that had been
towed back were being tied up and the small harbour was almost full of them. A narrow corridor had been left to allow boats to come and go from the complex as they brought in more to add to the collection, and the gashes in the sides of each one showed the ferocity of the treatment they had received. It was far removed from the painstaking and meticulous work that had gone into their design.