War of the Spheres

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  War of the Spheres

  by

  B. V. Larson

  and James Millington

  Copyright © 2019 by Iron Tower Press.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the authors.

  “Things forbidden have a secret charm.”

  – Tacitus, 112 AD

  Chapter 1

  My coffin-like enclosure creaked when I forced it open. Liquids bubbled and tickled my bare skin as I flung the lid away from my face.

  Awakening...

  The first minutes were always bad for me. All of my sins were remembered best in those dark moments before my eyes fluttered open. In that fleeting span between consciousness and the deep abyss of sleep, the faces of dead associates—names forgotten—returned to haunt me.

  Coming fully aware at last, I felt those memories subside. This allowed me to think clearly again. I knew I wouldn’t slumber so long and deeply until my mission was finished—whatever that might turn out to be.

  Stasis-tubes were buried deep in my flesh. As I yanked my arms free, these synthetic vessels withdrew leaving puckered wounds that would soon heal over. I climbed out of the bubbling tank, staggering and dripping.

  Looking down and blinking, my first true sight was of oily fluids steaming on the floor. A natural man might have shivered, as the room was icy—but the cold rarely bothered me.

  There was a uniform waiting for me. Simple, nondescript, they were designed to invoke no interest from passersby. The jacket was dark blue, the pants were gray, the boots were jet black—but there was no rank insignia. Not yet.

  I put on the uniform with clumsy fingers, and it cinched itself to fit my broad frame. By the time I was done, my dizziness had passed. My hands now moved more quickly, and I could stand without swaying.

  I was in a vast building. It had cathedral-like ceilings and echoing stone passages that were mostly empty on this floor. Moving through it, I found every security door and robot recognized my biometrics and let me pass without comment.

  Eventually, I found crowds of workers in the central halls. They ignored me, as I was just one more military man who was clearly on a mission. In this case, it was to reach my secure briefing chamber and learn why I’d been awakened.

  Stepping out into the streets, I saw a dark sky and frosted sidewalks. Behind me, soaring improbably high into the clouds themselves, was the Ministry of Control. It was the largest building in the city—and probably the most feared.

  It was time for me to return to the Watcher. The single individual upon planet Earth who could tell me why I’d been awakened, and what I had to do before I could slumber again.

  The city outside was cold, dirty and oddly quiet. The skies were dark and pregnant, threatening to drop snow or freezing rain on the inhabitants at any moment. Most of the traffic was up above me, gliding overhead in luxury—but that was not the path I chose to travel by.

  My feet crunched solidly on the frosted ground. Marching along on foot down the streets, I passed countless old buildings. Built in centuries past, they were made of crumbling concrete and ancient steel.

  Many of the scum who stared at me as I passed them by did so with curiosity on their faces, but none of them called out to me. There was something alarming about my uniform, the purpose in my stride and the odd puckered welts on my skin. No one dared to rise to their feet and approach.

  Soon an icy shower of freezing sleet began to fall. It soaked me, and chilled me—but I kept walking.

  Standing on a street corner, waiting for the traffic bot to signal me to cross, I chanced to catch my own reflection. My face regarded me from the smeared glass of an abandoned storefront.

  My own unblinking eyes drilled back at me. They were the color of ashes. My hair was wet and black. My pale gaze, long arms and strong hands dominated my appearance.

  Then the traffic bot trilled at me, and I continued my march. There was no time to waste—after all, I hadn’t been awakened for nothing.

  Walking through the streets I passed stinking alleyways, and I continued to give the lowest of citizens who dwelt there pause. I remained unmolested.

  At last, I made my way to the tallest building in the Old City. The structure wasn’t a modern one made of compressed crystals and living metal, but rather a stained gray monolith of concrete with rusting steel for bones. It stood apart from the rest like a fang surrounded by a crowd of broken teeth.

  Indoors at last, I stood in the lobby with my uniform and lank hair dripping on a threadbare carpet. The building contained dusty elevators and dusty inhabitants. These people were aloof and secretive, like fragile spiders in a derelict house.

  No one asked my business as I moved to a specific elevator and stepped inside. One old woman even skittered out of the elevator car when I reached for the grimy buttons on the panel.

  I could have told her I meant her no harm, but she was gone before I could speak.

  It was just as well. It was for the best that I took this journey alone. Where I was going, it wouldn’t be safe for normal people to follow.

  Alone in the elevator, I addressed the panel. It was old—perhaps much older than it had been the last time I’d come here. Each button, lit or dim, had yellowed.

  This, more than anything else, made me frown in thought. How long had it been since my last mission? How long had I been dreaming in my bio-tank? Did it matter?

  Shrugging, I pressed the last button on the panel—the one that was filmed over by disuse and had a keyhole next to it.

  The keyhole did nothing, of course—it was impossible, in fact, to insert any known key. The keyhole was only there to distract. It provided a reason for the curious as to why that last button on the panel should not be bothered with.

  The dark button glimmered at my touch. It knew me, recognizing an authorized thumb. The doors slid closed, and the old machine began to clatter downward, deep into the earth.

  The ride took longer than it should have. No building this size could possibly contain so many floors below ground. That was obvious, and if I’d been sharing the car with a stranger they’d be sure to make this observation and remark upon it. I was alone, however, and I waited patiently during the long journey into the depths.

  When the elevator chime sounded at last I stepped out through the opening doors. I was in a different place. A modern place—one might even say a chamber unlike any other on this world. It was lit only by a soft blue glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The corridors were smooth and clean, with rounded corners. There wasn’t a sharp angle to be found. It gave the passages an organic tunnel-like appearance that contrasted with the light which was clearly artificial.

  I passed through the maze of tunnels without injury. A man who didn�
��t know the route might have been slain by a dozen lethal deterrents—but I knew the only safe path. Following it was almost like an instinct, and I did it without hesitation.

  Coming into the final, rounded chamber, I stood quietly. The walls glimmered brighter, as if in greeting. Whispering silhouettes twice my height towered before me. These were Watchers, and they shifted behind a veil of some kind.

  “An officer has awakened,” a voice said. The Watcher’s voice was soft, feminine, and almost maternal.

  “I’m Gray,” I said, speaking the only name I knew. “I’ve returned. What do you want of me?”

  “Gray…? Yes… it has been a while. Before you slumber again, you must help the people of your world. They must now do what has always been forbidden. You will help them depart their Sphere of influence.”

  I frowned. This was a new one. It had long been known that there was some sort of mysterious alien barrier surrounding our solar system. They called it the Great Sphere. Nobody had a good explanation about what it might be made of, and this talk of being able to pass through it was an utter novelty.

  My short term memory was a clean slate, like dreams that had slipped away along with my slumber. But of this I was certain: I’d been tasked on any number of occasions to contain undesirable activity. I’d stopped people before who had been planning to pass the barrier and exit the Great Sphere. Often, this had been done with violence.

  “This is different…” I said. “Why am I—?”

  “Initiating interrogation with me is not one of your listed privileges,” the Watcher said, cutting me off. “This time you will help those who wish to test experimental technology on a long journey. There is a parcel waiting at the exit. In it, your mission is detailed.”

  My face slackened, my eyes narrowed. I wanted to argue, but my conditioning and long history with such things caused me to avoid that option.

  I stood there anyway, lingering.

  “I’m detecting obstruction in your mental processes,” the voice said.

  “No,” I said after a further pause. “There is no problem. It will be done, and I will not truly sleep again until the mission is complete.”

  The room began to slowly darken. The voice didn’t speak again—she never did. She never repeated herself without cause. She never said good-bye, or wished me well. That wasn’t the way the Watchers did things, and it left me feeling challenged and abandoned as I turned to leave.

  After all, she may be the only one who truly knew who I was, and why I did the things that I did. She understood me completely—a claim that I couldn’t make about myself.

  A loose note was attached to the outside of the sealed bundle, which read: Gray, find the woman named on this parcel. Give it to her, and she will do the rest. You are to see that her project is executed as quickly and safely as possible. The journey will take you far and test you with unfamiliar perils. Once your destination is reached, eliminate any opposition necessary in order to return to this briefing chamber.

  I plucked off the note, and I saw a name had been written behind it. By all appearances, it could have been written by anyone, but I knew better.

  “Thanks for the details,” I muttered, and I headed for the elevator.

  Chapter 2

  Leaving the old building, I crossed the city again. Each step took me closer to the new sector, the zone where the affluent worked and lived.

  No one else dared to molest me on the way. There was something about my bearing that drove anyone with a speculative eye to think twice and drop all thoughts of accosting me.

  My luck held until I crossed the bridge into the New City. A pair of guards at the midpoint glared at me, pulling me aside and checking my ID. Not just anyone was allowed into the better part of town.

  They ran detection wands over me, but found no weapons. At last, almost puzzled, they let me pass.

  The New City was as attractive as the old zone was ugly. Here, the buildings were of a different nature. They were newer, and taller. Built with compressed crystals and living metals, they were like shining pillars of splendor compared to their rotten siblings on the other side of the river.

  Here, the weather was controlled. The sleet stopped, and the whole environment had a clean and vibrant feel. Despite all this, something nagged at me. Although I was nearing my destination, I paused for an assessment.

  Some memory tugged at my subconscious—it wanted my attention. Snapshots from my recent dreams danced just beyond the reach of my waking mind.

  Opening up my senses, I realized the sun had come out. I felt a deep appreciation for the sensation of sunlight touching my unaccustomed skin, but I didn’t let it distract me.

  My eyes followed the crowds. The city was bustling; everyone was occupied and absorbed with their errands and pursuits. They swarmed past me from every angle as I took it all in and continued to advance into the New City.

  Suddenly, I noticed a man in a long coat… There was something odd about him.

  Somehow, I knew he was up to no good, and I turned to watch him. He zagged past me—almost brushing into me. His hat was angled low, and he spoke to himself in a hushed voice as he walked rapidly away.

  It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t a madman. He was simply speaking to an implant, a comm-link embedded in his skull.

  Almost everyone had a comm-link device. The tech had been developed long ago. But as this man’s unit was implanted in his bones, it meant he’d paid a fortune for it—but even that wasn’t so unusual for this part of the city. There was something else about him…

  There. He had a concealed weapon—maybe more than one. I could see the evidence in the way the folds of his the coat hung, the way his hand carefully favored that one side.

  Organized crime? A police agent? Something like that.

  Without knowing exactly why, I became convinced as he passed from view that he didn’t concern me or my mission. I let him go.

  “Hey, sir?” someone asked at my back.

  The voice behind me was unfamiliar. I paused and turned slowly.

  A man stood before me. He looked out of place here in the New City. His hair was disheveled, and he wore a suit coat that had evidently been scavenged from a waste pile somewhere.

  “Could you help a fella out?” the man asked me.

  His body-language spoke truth about his plight, and I softened my expression.

  “Uh—yes, of course,” I said. I smiled as I checked my pockets.

  My smile faded away as I patted down all my pockets and realized that I didn’t have any currency.

  “Damn…” I said. “Sorry for the embarrassment, but I’m short on credits myself today.”

  “Yeah… sure thing,” he said and began to veer aside.

  “Hold on a second,” I told him as I scanned the passing crowd once again. “I can still help.”

  I took in the whole wash of humanity that swarmed around us there on the clean walkway. Grabbing him by the shoulder, I pointed at a tidy, middle-aged woman. She walked alone near the edge of the foot traffic.

  “Try her. I’ve got a feeling she’ll assist you.”

  “All right—if you say so. Thanks anyways,” he said and left.

  I watched him carefully make his way to her and politely inquire. She wore long hair in a bun and her face indicated sincere consideration as she listened to him.

  After a moment she grabbed his hand, depositing something there. Then, she squeezed it, smiling.

  “Give to everyone who asks of you,” she told him. “…and treat others the same way you want them to treat you.”

  She walked past him, and he stood there looking at the gift, counting it.

  “Wow—thank you, ma’am!” he called after her. He looked at me with a grin that was missing an eyetooth and gave me a thumbs-up.

  I was nodding an affirmation to the guy when I was startled by a hard shove from behind. Stumbling, I tightly tucked the parcel the Watchers had given me against my ribs and wheeled to see a scoffing face tha
t I didn’t recognize.

  “Well—hi there, Chief,” the new stranger said in a snide tone.

  This made me frown in surprise. He couldn’t possibly have known, but I’d found a chief warrant officer’s insignia in the package under my arm, along with a data stick. It wasn’t my custom to wear ranks in public, and my clothing was deliberately indistinct. I could only surmise he recognized me.

  “Ain’t you sweet,” the stranger mocked me, “helping the poor and all that?”

  “I’m kinda busy right now, friend,” I told him.

  The man was lanky with unremarkable features. He had a faint latticework of faded scars on his face. I held his eye contact as I realized my own skin bore a similar peculiarity—could that healing lump on his cheek be where a tube had been implanted?

  There were no bells ringing about who this guy was though. He was dressed as I was, with the same navy jacket, gray pants and black boots. He also wore a lieutenant’s bars on his lapel and sleeves. His nametag clued me in, his name was Shaw.

  Lt. Shaw grinned as he backed up through a river of passing walkers to a gap between buildings. He beckoned to me as he vanished into this dark crack, but I made no move to follow him.

  I didn’t know what to make of someone who dressed in a way so similar to my own plain apparel. The scars too… The thing that nagged my mind most was the feeling I was connected to this malicious individual. Perhaps he was like me—a sleeper who was awakened when needed.

  Taking a step forward, I followed him into an alleyway.

  “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” I asked.

  Shaw broke into a laugh and looked upward. Suddenly turning his good humor off like a switch, he pointed at me. “You don’t even know how you fit into this, do you? You dumb son-of-a-bitch.”

  Still, no bells.

  I’d realized by now that he wasn’t he seemed, just like me. He technically outranked me, but that didn’t matter right now. I had a mission, and he seemed to want to interrupt it.