The Blackout

By Christopher Zammit

Our modern society is broken. After centuries of war, terrorism and rampant nationalism, the human race has divided itself into a myriad of exclusionist groups that look upon each other with fear and distrust. Yet they have one thing in common, an oppressive Corporatocracy which has covertly ensnared the global population in virtual slavery for their own financial gain.
High above the Earth, an Australian research group named ANZAR have discovered a way in which they can free the world from the system that enslaves it, unify the human race, and (hopefully) reunite their founders with the wives that were cruelly taken from them fourteen year earlier. Using experimental technology, two Professors make a dangerous journey that will alter the lives of everyone on the planet.
It doesn't go to plan.
After having gone missing for ten days, the Professors' empty machine reappears in orbit around the Earth. Before it can be retrieved it is surrounded by thousands of glowing spheres which appear through a doorway in space and encircle the globe. Millions die in the global disaster which would become known as The Blackout. With ANZAR’s research blamed for the attack, and the military on their way to shut down their labs, the Professors’ sons flee into the maze of alternate realities in which their fathers had vanished.
Determined to arrest the scientists as ordered, Captain Kyle Ferine commandeers a second ANZAR machine and leads his team of hardened soldiers in pursuit of the fleeing ANZAR scientists. As the two groups come into contact and are forced to rely on each other for survival, Ferine has to decide whether he will place the ANZAR scientists under arrest or act as their protectors as they struggle to find the missing professors, search for a way to save the Earth, and survive the horrors that await them on each layer of the Multiverse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Zammit
• Release date: Dec 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301009374

Christopher Zammit

With a background in Graphic Design and technology Journalism, Chris currently works in Australia converting major magazines titles into iPad apps. He lives in Sydney with his wife Karen and two sons, Kyle and Luke.

Book preview

Prologue

A drop in temperature

Over the Mojave Desert, Utah

5.43am - Monday, December 28th, 2048

Kyle Ferine stared into the darkness of the aircraft’s cargo hold as it bumped and shook its way across the sky. The sound of wind and snow striking the airframe woke him from his dreams of death, destruction and the imminent end of the world. All around him, the floor was littered with the bodies of sleeping men. The repetitive bass hum of the engines and the proximity of many warm bodies had lulled most onboard into a restless, disturbed sleep. From one end of the cargo hold to the other, soldiers lay on the grease-stained deck in full body armour with warm weather clothing and insulation jackets shoved under their heads as pillows.

The few men who were unable to sleep busied themselves with routine tasks of checking gear, weapons, and ammunition. A few whispered to their mates about their kids, their wives, their dogs or reminisced about the last drinking session they had shared. Like Ferine, others sat and stared at nothing with faraway looks as they contemplated their fates, their futures and the loved ones that waited for them in the new world.

Looking around and seeing everything was as it should be, Ferine let his mind wander once again to the global disaster and the chain of events that had made this mission necessary. He’d gone over it a million times in the weeks since the Blackout... and the announcement. He knew the answer as well as anybody, probably better. He knew the inside story because he was there at the beginning when the whole thing kicked off. He was a key player in the end of the world, and he hadn’t even realised until after it had happened.

Deciding his time could be better spent. Captain Kyle Ferine climbed to his feet and made his way through the dimly lit cargo hold towards the aircraft’s tail. There were sixty Australian and New Zealand troops aboard for the rescue mission; one platoon of thirty men from each nation. At the completion of the task, they would become the first combined ANZAC force to initiate hostilities for over one hundred years. Those who knew of the mission – and there were very few who did – felt a surge of pride at the old ANZAC spirit being revived by this new generation of men. Tears filled the eyes of many hardened military leaders on seeing the rising sun badge pinned to a traditional slouch hat for the first time. This icon from the past had been transposed into the present to stand as a symbol of hope, strength, freedom, and for some, revenge. The fact that it was perched atop a modern uniform of resin coated body armour and twenty-first-century military attire did little to detract from the effect. There was no mistaking that the spirit of the ANZAC which had been born in the trenches of World War One had lasted through the years. The legend that spoke of brotherhood, bravery, and sacrifice was about to be reborn. A surge of nationalistic pride was predicted from the occupants of both countries when - and if - the mission was ever announced.

Can I have your attention, please? Ferine called. There was a stir of activity as the men in the cargo hold shook their sleeping comrades awake and began to rise to their feet. When everyone was standing, when he had everyone’s attention, Ferine began.

You men know better than anyone why we are about to do this. Australia and New Zealand have always been peaceful nations that have had little or no interest in global power struggles and world domination. For decades the world watched while the corporations of the US systematically bullied, bribed and invaded other countries into joining its self-proclaimed Empire. The world held its breath as an impotent U.N. stood by and watched nation after nation be taken over by a self-serving conglomerate of corporations that had little respect for human lives, let alone human rights. Ferine paused for a moment to observe the heads of his soldiers nodding in agreement.

Australia and New Zealand stood by passively and did nothing because we were supposed to be their friends. Well, we soon learned that that didn’t count for anything when the Imperial military, the good old U.S of A, our so-called allies, decided to invade us and level Sydney to the ground. Disgusted headshakes and a few choice profanities floated from the troops.

Ferine decided to turn it up a notch. With his voice raised, he began to speak again. They attacked us and killed innocent people who had no other interest than to move their families to safety before the coming disaster could bring them to harm. Ferine paced back and forth as he spoke.

They will pay for the damage they caused us at the battle of Sydney. He called over the troops cheering.

We gave as good as we got on that day and we’ll give them back, even more, this time. Ferine paused to give the new ANZACS a moment to express their feelings.

But, we’re not like them. Our disagreement is not with the American people. We won’t bomb civilians as they do; we won’t hurt the innocent as they do. We will go out of our way to ensure that anybody who is not wearing a military uniform goes unharmed. We are at war with the Imperial government, not with their people. We represent the ANZAC spirit, so we won’t sink to their level of violence, and we won’t walk away while they hold our friends, and our families captive!

The flashing of the warning light caught Ferine’s attention. Instantly he knew that they had reached their destination and it was nearly time to leave the transport.

Alright, team! Ferine called out.

We now have less than five minutes to get in position. Grab your gear, find your place and do a quick - and I do mean quick - inspection of your buddies kit. There’s no time left now for farting about. Just remember what we practised, and it will all go to plan. Hop to it; you know what to do.

Around him, men clambered to their feet while others dropped to pick up equipment or redress themselves in their bulkier layers of cold weather clothing. An air of anticipation bordering on excitement had arisen. Satisfied that things were going to plan, Ferine turned and spoke to Captain Austin who stood waiting beside him.

Make sure the point guys are weighed down with enough supplies and ammo to give them a good head start. I want that mustering area in place before the rest of us hit, OK?

Will do. It’s a shame you’re not dropping in with the point group. You’re gonna miss a lot of the action. Austin replied.

Ferine shook his head and smiled. Trust me; I’ve seen enough action over the last few weeks to last me a lifetime.

Austin smiled in return and gave a knowing nod. He had seen what Ferine and the ANZAR initiative had gone through on TV. As he watched the Captain leave, he marvelled at how he had come to be working with the man whose recent actions had saved billions of lives.

Point team, this is the flight commander. Ferine heard through his headset as he stepped beside the rear door of the aircraft. You are go for point team drop on my mark.

With that, a large opening in the side of the jet slid aside in an explosion of wind and ice. The temperature inside the plane dropped considerably as a strong, icy breeze, began to whip through the cabin. Almost as if they’d forgotten it was cold outside, the men zipped up their jackets as far as they would go and turned on the heating in their thermal underwear. For the first few seconds, the frigid air came as a welcome change from the stifling heat that the team had endured for much of the flight. The freshness of it cleared away the last of the sleep that fogged their minds. Friends turned to each other and swapped sheepish grins as the concept of what they were about to do became a reality.

Huddled around the door like kids at an ice-cream truck, the point team was soon lost in a veil of snow and condensation; loose equipment flapped around in the breeze and was quickly crusted with fine flakes of ice.

Point team, you are go for egress, good luck. The Commander finished in his formal businesslike tone that all military personnel seemed to use when giving orders over a radio.

Within seconds the six men on point had disappeared out the door. It happened so fast you could almost wonder if they had ever been there at all. Snow billowed through the empty door more fiercely without the natural barrier of the soldier’s bodies in the way.

Get that door closed, Ferine called to no one in particular. A stout looking soldier of Japanese ancestry gave a quick nod, stepped forward and hit the switch to close the hatch. Once again, they were enveloped in a peaceful silence, the last they would experience for a while.

It was time for the rest of the team to do what they came for, and hopefully, go to their new homes once it was done. For the troops, the mission details were as simple as they needed to be, they were to land outside the walls of a research base located approximately 50 miles east of Las Vegas. The location of their target made the whole process all the more bizarre as far as Ferine was concerned. Not just because of his previous close ties with the United States but because this would be the first time since the Helium-3 wars that America had been invaded, and by no less than two platoons of troops from supposedly allied countries.

The facility - as these places were inevitably referred to – was located in open ground that, until recently, had been the Mojave Desert. Now it was set in a landscape that had more in common with Alaska. As was the case with much of the Earth in recent weeks, everything as far as the eye could see was powdered in a heavy covering of snow. What had once been a vista of rich ochres, yellows, and vibrant earth tones was now weather-worn into a muted monochromatic white.

As it was just before sunrise the ANZACS would be difficult to spot on their way to the ground. Anyone who happened to look up would be hard pressed to see the sixty men free falling towards them through the clouds and drifting snow. If things went well, they’d have no time to sound the alarm and get their troops into position before Ferine’s men could overrun the base.

But this wasn’t to be a regular drop.

The idea was for all the men come down in the same area. Once on the ground, the ANZACS were instructed to lie still, recover and wait. Within a few moments of impact, the signal to attack would be given. At Ferine’s command, everyone would stand up and take the base. That was the plan anyway.

The remaining troops fought to keep their balance as the aircraft banked steeply on its way back towards the drop zone. Men grabbed at overhead support straps, the walls, and each other in the effort to keep their feet. Groups of soldiers huddled together with their arms around each other’s shoulders in what looked more like an act of emotional, rather than physical support.

Ferine could make out the deep rumble of muffled explosions from outside the aircraft as the plane shook and bounced from the shockwave of each near miss. It quickly became apparent to him that the Americans had had a decent lookout on duty that morning. Evidently, the ANZAC point men had been spotted, the alarm had been sounded, and the defence of the base had begun. Anti-aircraft artillery shells exploded around the transport plane as the ground troops attempted to shoot down a target they could hear but not see. The explosions started softly at first and rose in volume and ferocity as the gunners on the ground came progressively closer to hitting the plane. Many inside the transport lost their footing and fell to the deck as the aircraft rocked and swayed more violently. The men who fell immediately began struggling against the weight of their gear and the motion of the floor as they tried to get back on their feet. Every few seconds another shockwave hit the shell of the plane, causing it to sway and vibrate loudly. The erratic movement made it impossible for many of the men to stand. Some gave up trying and opted for the simple alternative of bracing themselves as best they could on the floor.

Another sound joined the cacophony of noise outside, just as loud but more welcoming. Amongst the explosions and gunfire, the familiar high-pitched reverberation of the RAAF’s newest fighter aircraft rose in volume as they pulled alongside. What was officially top-secret craft up until their life-saving debut at the battle of Sydney, the Black Diamonds were wholly Australian designed and built machines. With armoured hulls of engineered diamond and magnetic shields, they were all but impervious to any form of attack. They had boldly just come through the barrage behind the transport and were in no doubt getting ready to take out the heavy guns on the ground. All Ferine’s transport needed from them was a little time to drop off the men, turn around and set a new course for home.

With the distraction of the explosions around the transport, nobody inside heard the Flight Commander’s countdown or noticed the jump light when it turned green. All the men knew, was that one second they were standing safely in the dark of the cargo hold, the next, they were outside the plane, free-falling amidst a significant air battle. The floor hadn’t opened up or slid aside; it had just disappeared.

As one, the men gave surprised gasps as the temperature dropped by eighty degrees. In less than a second, they had gone from the warm inside of the plane's cabin to the freezing high-altitude air. For most, it was a graceless tumbling exit without any form or style. They found themselves hurtling towards the ground as flack and anti-aircraft fire popped and exploded around them. With his little protective bubble of warmth and safety gone, Ferine felt as if he had been dumped into the world and left alone to fend for himself. For him, it was akin to being born again.

The roar of the wind as they rushed towards the frozen Mojave Desert was littered with the sounds of everything from far-away ground explosions to anti-aircraft gunfire. The screams of fighter jets and helicopters faded in and out of hearing as the aircraft flew above, below and around them.

Ferine spied the faint shapes of the buildings where the Australian scientists were being held. Tipping his body forward, he increased his rate of descent, eager to get down to the ground and free the innocent captives.

It would be a quick journey. As none of Ferine's team was wearing parachutes, they would hit the ground in record time. Travelling at terminal velocity, they would slam into the frozen sands of the Mojave Desert in little over a minute.

As he fell, Ferine’s mind briefly reflected on everything that had happened to bring him to this time, to this place, to this situation. His mind wandered back to the events that had started at Gate 23, to the people that had been lost, to the scientist’s search for them, and to the snowballing events that had pulled him into its madness and had made him a key player in the abandonment of the Earth.

1

Outside Gate 23

Sir Kingsford Smith Spaceport – Sydney.

7.00am - Monday, July 27th, 2048

A tear ran down Craig’s cheek as he stared at the embracing couple. Like an island in a sea of people, they stood oblivious to the crowd of travellers which parted and flowed around them. Both seemed lost in the moment, neither willing to let the other go as they whispered their goodbyes, as they enjoyed the feel of each other in their arms. Sooner than they had hoped, a computerised voice announced the final boarding call for gate twenty-three. Knowing that there was no more time to waste, the woman reluctantly stepped away from her partner and looked sadly into his eyes. She held her arm outstretched, her hand still holding his, reluctant to let go, unwilling to break contact. With a sad smile, she slowly slid her hand from his and turned towards the boarding gate. With a final wave and a sorrowful look at her lover, she wheeled her bag past the smiling stewards and disappeared from view.

Their farewell tauntingly re-enacted a scene from Craig’s past; a scene which he wished had never been played.

His chest heaved, and a weak sob escaped his throat as he rose to his feet to stop the woman from leaving. He wanted more than anything to be able to cross the tiled floor, to grab the woman by the shoulders, to shake her, to tell her not to go, to force her to stay here with her family. Craig lifted his foot and took a step forward before eventually coming to his senses. Before anyone could notice, he lowered himself onto the plastic airport seat and grabbed one of the three coffee cups that sat empty on the table beside him. He raised it to his lips with shaking hands and sipped the dregs of the now cold liquid.

That woman wasn’t my mother; he thought as his gaze returned to the now empty spot where the couple had stood. In their place, his mind’s eye replayed the moment in which the lives of everyone he knew had turned upside-down. Craig could see his younger self-standing with his father, uncle, and cousin outside this very gate as they had said goodbye to the women who had boarded the ill-fated flight. His mother and aunt were only supposed to be visiting America for a few days, but due to some wrong information and an overzealous Homeland Security Chief, they had never returned.

Craig’s eyes continued to water as he remembered their rushed farewell on that open expanse of tile, none of them knowing that it would be for the last time. As he played the scene over in his head, he wished that he had said more to his mother in their final moments together. Thinking back, he couldn’t even be sure if he had told her that he loved her before she had walked away. He had a vague memory of her bending down to kiss him on the forehead. He could recall glancing at her briefly, almost dismissively, as he continued to discuss the latest Star Wars film with his cousin Luke. A frown crossed Craig’s brow as he tried to remember the details of that wasted opportunity to tell her how much he cared. He would give anything to have that moment back again, to be able to look her in the eye, to give her all his attention and tell her that she was loved and appreciated, as she deserved. The more he turned that moment over in his mind, the muddier the memories became. Craig thought he had told her he loved her, at least, he hoped he had. But there was no way to be sure. After all, he was only nine when it had happened.

Struggling to fight off the wave of depression that inevitably arose when he thought about the loss of his mother, Craig tried to think of the coming weeks that would finally put an end to the pain and suffering of the past. If their next experiment bore fruit and everything went to plan, the stain that her loss had left on his life would be removed; cleansed, erased, almost as if it had never happened.

Almost.

A small smile crossed his lips at the thought of seeing his mother again.

The opening stanza of a news report blared from one of the many monitors in the terminal. Craig reluctantly turned his attention away from gate twenty-three. His mind, still filled with memories of loss, struggled to make sense of the jumbled images and information on the screen. As the ABC news cut from the protests in New Zealand to the viral epidemic in Zaire, Craig looked back at gate twenty-three, down at the floor, then at nowhere in particular. With nothing left to do but wait, he took another sip of his cold coffee, raised his left arm, glanced at his watch and then dropped it into his lap with a deep, troubled sigh.

Seven am. She’s late, he thought.

Despite the time, Terminal 3 of Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport was already awash with human traffic. All around him, a dense crowd of people hurried on their way to and from various cities around the world. Suited businesspeople, elderly vacationers, and youthful backpackers struggled to get past exhausted parents who wheeled oversized suitcases and pulled overexcited children through the terminal. Craig watched as a bedraggled looking mum struggled to get two screaming kids past the ice-cream stands and confectionary stores that lined the concourse. The two young boys pulled at their mother’s hands and stared longingly at the brightly lit displays of treats that they were being forced to pass by. The grief on their faces mirrored his own as Craig watched them disappear into the crowd.

The TV news once again caught Craig’s attention. On screen, the Australian and New Zealand Prime Ministers stood side by side on a podium. With the flags of both nations waving patriotically behind them, they pledged to stand by each other in the face of the recent military threats from the American Empire. What had begun as a trade disagreement over the sharing of technology had steadily deteriorated into a state of mutual distrust after the seizure of an Australian research vessel by the Imperial Navy. The HMS Gillard had been in transit between Sydney and Auckland when an American battle group had intercepted it. For reasons still unknown, the lone ship was boarded, the crew detained, and the vessel pillaged. The handful of Australian researchers who had been aboard at the time were currently being held as guests of the American Empire in an - as yet - undisclosed location.

With the New Zealand Prime Minister by her side, the Australian Prime Minister, Kathryn Mundawoy, stood at the podium and spoke harsh words and made firm promises about the future of American – Antipodean relations. Unable to hear everything they were saying, Craig caught enough of the tone to figure that both countries were intending to make a political stand against the old U.S.

Craig’s attention was pulled away from the television broadcast by a synthesised female voice which seductively announced that the next QANTAS flight to Newton Station was still due to depart from gate sixteen in just under an hour. In a voice that somehow managed to sound both monotonous and sexy, the Inter-Orbital terminal’s notification system wished everyone a good day and fell silent.

With his attention drawn away from the ABC newscast, Craig did another slow scan of the terminal. As if on cue, he spotted Karen as she exited the security area. He smiled to see her dressed in her usual outfit of tight black trousers, V-neck t-shirt, and her favourite black, all-weather, Vinyl Jacket. On seeing her again, it occurred to Craig that she rarely wore anything that varied from this basic style. She had found a look that suited her and, to her credit, had stuck with it. As far as he was concerned, she looked good in whatever she wore. As he watched her draw nearer, Craig couldn’t help but admire the cute little bounce in her step. No matter how much he watched her, no matter how familiar he had become with every quirk and nuance of her character, he had never been able to figure out what it was about her walk that made her body move the way it did. She had an endearing and seductive way of bopping along wherever she went. To him, she looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world. He couldn’t help but envy that.

Sorry I’m late, babe, Karen said as she drew closer. The flight was delayed because of this trouble with the Americans. You wouldn’t believe the security checks I had to go through. She greeted him with a brief hug and a quick peck on the lips.

Don’t worry about it. Craig smiled. You’re here now. That’s all that matters. How was your week at home with your folks?

They had both taken two weeks away from the Station to have their first holiday together. They had spent the first week in a small resort in Fiji where they had sat on the beach, drank cocktails and tried hard not to think about work. Neither of them had wanted the time to end, but other obligations had forced them to spend the second week of their vacation apart. Karen had travelled to Perth to visit her ageing parents while Craig had returned to tidy his all but abandoned family home on the outskirts of Sydney in preparation for his family’s return.

It was fine, Karen began. It was a bit dull after our week away together. I would much rather have spent the extra time with you at that resort.

She transformed her face with a smile as she sat down beside him. It was something he loved to watch every time she did it. When her lips parted, and her mouth stretched back into her patented grin, her eyes lit up, and her face shone, she was transformed into the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

But, still. It was good to see mum and dad again, she continued.

A frown crossed Karen’s face as she took a moment to study Craig’s. After all the time they had spent together, she had become very good at reading his emotions. Just by looking at him she could tell there was something wrong.

Been thinking about your mum again, haven’t you? she asked as she reached over and took Craig’s hand in hers. As she waited for him to respond, she glanced towards the entrance to gate twenty-three and wondered why he would want to put himself through the torture of waiting for her here instead of somewhere else in the terminal.

Craig gave a nervous giggle. With only her touch and her concern, she had managed to lift the dark mood that had so nearly overtaken him.

C’mon babe, we’d better go find Professor Turp, Craig said in an attempt to change the subject. He rose to his feet and poked his thumb at an especially large duty-free store behind them. He went into the liquor shop about twenty minutes ago; we better get over there before he empties the place of all their Myer’s rum. Knowing him, he’ll probably try and carry aboard double the allowed limit for Inter-Orbital flights.

Craig lifted her bag and placed it on his trolley as she fished out her passport and boarding pass.

I see you’re still referring to your Dad as Professor Turp. It’d be nice if you dropped his title once in a while. This was a discussion they had had more than once during their time away from the labs. I know, I know. It’s just a force of habit, babe. I’m required to call him that around the lab, so I guess it sort of stuck.

I know, she replied as she stood to take his hand once again. I just worry about the way you two always talk about work and never seem to do any of the other things that a father and son should do.

Like what? Play soccer on the lawn and go on picnics? We live on a space station remember? he retorted with an intentional smirk to show that he didn’t mean any offence. I guess I just grew up differently than most kids, but I’m happy with the way things are at the moment. I never miss that Father and son stuff anyway.

No, not now you don’t. But you will when he’s gone, she thought. Did he give you a message for me from my boys? she enquired after Jamie and Timothy, the two precocious and complicated toddlers whom she was employed to care for at the labs. They could be a handful at times, but as much as she enjoyed her time away from work, she found herself missing the children more than she could imagine. She hoped they hadn’t fretted over her as much as she had for them while she was away.

Yeah, Dad said that they were nagging him about a present, a book or something. He said it was to do with dinosaurs.

Typical, isn’t it? I’ve been worried sick that they’d be traumatised by my going away, but all they care about is if I’ve gotten them a present. She smiled at the thought of seeing them again.

I don’t think you have to worry about them not missing you, Karen. You did call them every day while we were away. Craig reminded her as they began to walk away from gate twenty-three.

So, I suppose your dad has been talking your head off with news about how the research went while you were away? Karen asked as they turned the corner into the main terminal used for all orbital flights. The long walkway was lined with even more duty-free shops, newsagents and food stalls that stood testament to how commonplace space travel had become. The fact that passengers could casually buy a morning paper, skim milk latte and a bran muffin before shooting into orbit demonstrated how for many, it was just another way to commute to the other side of the world. Albeit, a much quicker and more expensive way to get there.

After negotiating their way around a crowd of chatting tourists who were busily debating the difference between red and blue vodka, Craig finally replied to Karen’s question.

Not as such, he did seem a bit excited about it though. Naturally, I asked him how it all went as soon as I met him this morning, but I didn’t get much of an answer. He just smiled and said we’d talk about it when we were back on the station.

Well, what do you make of that then? Do you think he got the results he wanted? Karen asked.

It’s hard to say, babe. The Professor... Dad has never been one to show his emotions too much, so I don’t know how to take what he said. I mean, he did seem excited... for him. So, if I had to say one way or the other based on his research on the Conduit, I’d say the probes must be close to locating the address we’re after. I have a lot of faith in my father’s ability to get this to work.

You see, that’s nice to hear. It wasn’t so hard, was it? Karen congratulated him.

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