Awakening

By Alan R Wilson

The death of her companion prompts Anita to retire from life for a short time. However, there is a mistake and she ‘awakens’ to a time when the siege of Darham and the overthrow of the Servants of The Bear are ancient history. It is also a time of impending danger. Biofree, the ancient biological war machine is stirring herself in response to perceived dangers due to the increasing technological sophistication she detects around her. Anita’s arrival is opportune as she first stumbles towards the only thing her innate sensors recognise, the background buzz of Biofree’s communications with the multitudinous biota she has evolved. Under her tutelage Anita is introduced to the wonders and dangers of the age she is now in. She explores the closest coastal city, falls in with the wrong crowd and attracts the attention of the police. While the population is highly gifted the ancient mistrust of the exceptionally gifted has risen again: there is a whole covert arm of government dedicated to their suppression. She develops some close friendships, discovers some well kept secrets and contacts the descendants of the Usulu who have a mystic faith based around her return. Anita eschews the opportunity to become an avenging, godlike leader and pursues a more peaceful path for the proper recognition of the gifted. However, Anita’s impulsive nature leads to her being shot. Biofree activates her biota and the Usulu rise up in revolt. It is up to Anita to reunite the country and avoid the death of millions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan R Wilson
• Release date: Feb 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9780648599937

Alan R Wilson

As an undergraduate in the 1970s I was a member of the Melbourne University Science Fiction Club, contributing to and editing the magazine, Yggdrasil, which was largely devoted to fiction. We also held writers workshops and since then I have continued to ‘scribble away’ at various things with the seed of the ‘Anita’ novels sprouting in the late 80s.Personally, I found it impossible to write seriously while working full-time. (I have a Ph D in Physics and worked in research and have published numerous scientific articles). Always wanting to be a novelist, I took time off a few years ago to see if I had it in me to produce a novel. It worked for me and I retired properly and have dedicated myself to writing ever since.Writing is great fun, I love it. Whenever asked I say it is ‘better than reading’ because I am continually surprised as the plot develops. I am definitely not an author who has a novel plotted out from start to finish. As Ray Bradbury said, ‘It would be boring if you knew where it was going’. Indeed, the main protagonist in ‘Anita’ suddenly appeared a third of the way into the novel.There are 4 more books on the way in the Anita Histories and I am also dabbling in some contemporary novels too. Keep tuned, because the next 3 Anita novels may come out quite quickly.

Book preview

Alban Clare, Associate Professor of Techno-archaeology, was frustrated. He believed they were wasting their time digging around the old ‘lord’s tomb’. While he conceded they found a few interesting odds and ends, nothing was outstanding. With only two days remaining on their permit to work in the area he had finally succeeded in persuading his colleague, Quentin Garmon, a full Professor and nominally in charge of the expedition, to run a test trench across the area where he was sure the commercial surveys showed an anomaly possibly due to a cave or, according to Alban, a man made cavern. He was further frustrated by the half day lost relocating the camp to the top western edge of Flinner Pass. He was now finally directing the crew of their one power digger into position. Unfortunately the location ran across ground at the start of the slope down into the deep pass itself, making positioning of the digger awkward.

Move the backhoe in along here. Careful! If I’m right we can dig a trench starting here and along in this direction, Alban said, giving further directions with his arms. The digger will be at full stretch to reach the bottom. When you reach this stake you will have a meter or two to go before the anomaly, so take it slowly.

Alban and Quentin stood back while the powered backhoe was manoeuvred into position. It commenced digging into the tough dirt to form a sloping trench barely wide enough for two slender people to scrape past each other. Progress was slow in the packed clay. Seeing that the dig would take a while, the two professors turned to leave the workers, intending to spend the time in the samples tent inspecting some of the artefacts discovered in the tomb area.

Come and fetch me when you reach the stake, Alban called back before clumping up the rise to the cluster of tents, their mobile home for the last three weeks.

The sun was setting when Alban noticed the shadows were lengthening but still with no news from the dig. The delay made him fidgety and was upsetting his concentration. Why are they taking so long? he wondered. Eventually he was unable to restrain himself any longer.

Quentin, sorry, can’t concentrate. I have to see what’s happening.

Right. You go, I’ll be along soon, Quentin replied.

Alban needed no further encouragement and the canvas of the tent entrance was soon flapping with his hurried exit.

What’s the hold up? What’s going on? he called out when he was within shouting range.

Soil’s very hard. Like soft rock, Prof. Had to put teeth on hoe. Just at your mark and was about to fetch you.

Good, keep going.

Alban watched as the backhoe bit into the soil. The engine revved hard to force the scoop through the hard clay. After a few minutes he was joined by Quentin. They watched in silence while the digger struggled to extract more soil. The trench was slowly edging backwards. The sunlight was fading when they all heard a dull thump followed by a grating sound when the hoe lifted.

Watch out, ease off! Alban yelled. Must be closer than I thought. Careful. Scrape out the last of the dirt. Where’s a torch!

Alban, wait. Needs shoring up! Quentin cautioned.

No. See how tough the soil is for the digger. Come on, let’s have a look, see what he’s hit.

The hoe was barely retracted and swung away before Alban was scrambling down the sloping slot in the ground.

You have to see this, Quentin. Bring your g-pick, Quentin soon heard Alban’s excited voice waft up to him.

Quentin was not as eager as his younger colleague. He carefully stepped into the trench where it sloped into the earth. From here he saw Alban silhouetted by his torchlight but not much else. He picked his way down. When his head went below the surface unfortunate images rose in his mind of the opportunities for others if two vacancies were suddenly available at the university. He paused to test the walls and was reassured when they felt very robust. After a couple of slips and slides he was with Alban.

Look at this, Alban was saying enthusiastically before Quentin reached him. Rubbed the dirt off here. Whatever rock this is it’s very dark, hardly reflects the torchlight. Not local. No marks where the hoe hit it, must be really tough. Have a go with the g-pick.

What about seams? Mortar?

Can’t see any. Give the pick to me, I’ll see what I can do.

Alban and Quentin shuffled around in the restricted space with Alban exchanging his torch for Quentin’s pick. He swung back, gave the black wall a good hit, and ran his fingers over the spot. He drew back and hit the wall harder.

Steeth! Can’t feel a thing. Shine your torch closer. Blight, nothing.

Alban, Quentin said cautiously. This, ah … might be much older than you think. We need to take care. Might be really old. Not Anitian at all.

Alban straightened and moved back, bumping into Quentin who was leaning forward for a better look.

Whoops, sorry. Hmm. Yeah, I suppose. Pre-Chaos? Need the lights down here.

No. I think tomorrow in case we can get inside. Running lights overnight will more than use the last of the fuel. If we find a door we will want it to look inside.

Alban frowned. So close but so far: an extremely interesting find but they were on a deadline with only one day left before they had to pack up and leave the restricted zone. However, he knew Quentin was right. First thing tomorrow the digger …

Crap! The digger. We need it to dig around and that will use even more fuel.

Precisely. Too dark now, but if we start first light we have a chance. Sorry I didn’t listen to you before. Seems you are right about those surveys. They were pretty tenuous.

The two techno-archaeologists looked at each other and came to a mutual decision. Quentin led the way. They toiled back up the slope to the surface to tell the students and workmen waiting for them about the discovery, and to plan for the following day.

***

Alban was never one to let excitement upset his ability to sleep and this night was no exception. He went to sleep easily however his rest was disturbed by odd dreams of darkness and dust. Around midnight his rest became more settled and he fell into a deep sleep until shortly before daybreak when he was rudely awoken by shouting, running feet, and someone bursting into his tent.

Professor, quick! There’s been a break in.

What, where? he sat up groggily.

The crypt. I went down to take a look and … there’s a gaping hole in it.

Ah who…, crypt? What!

The news shattered Alban’s lethargy. He was up like a shot, groped around in the dim light to find and drag on his overalls and stuff his feet into his work boots, saying;

Get Quentin. Don’t disturb anything.

He paused only to grab and check a torch before hurrying through the still swaying tent flaps. Running to the trench he did not delay and went straight down the slope, slipping and sliding and nearly falling in his haste to see what the problem was. He was forced to hurriedly arrest his progress when the torch beam picked out a dismaying tumble of broken black shards of various sizes sprayed out from what his assistant called, the crypt. Footsteps and voices behind him alerted him to the arrival of Quentin and other members of the expedition. Quentin was again more restrained when he entered the trench and moved down to stop behind Alban, still on the sloping section of the trench.

Look’s odd, were his first words.

What do you mean, look’s odd? Alban snapped back. Some bastard’s broken in and who knows what they damaged or stole.

The stone. All pushed out from the inside, Quentin replied.

Alban stopped to examine the lie of the jumbled blocks. He might be right, he thought, but was still preparing to retort, saying ‘the thieves pulled them out’, when he paused again. From the size and shape of the blocks anyone pulling them out ran the risk of serious injury and, how did they break in? My pick hardly scratched the surface.

Look at this piece. Faint impression of a hand? What do you think? he said after squatting down to check the profile his torchlight picked out on a fragment lying near his foot.

Didn’t see it before. Must’ve been on the inside.

Alban paused to think again.

So-o … what are you saying, Quentin? Something’s come out from the inside? How about the thieves made a small hole, crawled in and pushed the rest out, he suggested.

It’s too big. Look at the edges, why make this wider than the trench! A donkey, maybe even a horse can fit through this gap. Why waste the time and increase your chance of discovery. Why make the hole wide but leave a high lip to step over? And remember when you tried last night. Pick didn’t leave a mark. If someone smashed the wall open how come no one heard anything?

Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, let’s stop dithering, have a look inside.

Alban and Quentin used their combined torches to pick their way over the irregular and surprisingly sharp-edged, blocks. Alban was the first to peer in. Quentin was the only one to hear his quick intake of breath and expression of surprise. He hurried forward to stare through the hole too, adding his torch beam to Albans’s to illuminate the inside.

Blight and Chaos, he muttered, astounded at the truncated, spherical space containing a dark central mass.

Hold your beam still, in the centre, Alban instructed.

Both of their beams converged on a black object with an irregular depression in it. The surface appeared to be composed of a matrix of fine roots framing the depression. Many of the roots at the edges were pushed around and disordered.

What do you think it is?

Don’t know. Offering bowl or something.

But it’s not round! Odd shape, too large, and the furry, stringy stuff. What is it?

Fungus, roots? What I do know is we need to stabilise this lot, set up some lights and move the blocks out of the way. Pack them up to take with us.

In their enthusiasm the two archaeologists failed to examine the floor and the faint evidence of footprints was obliterated when the archaeological team hastened to reinforce the entrance and install the lights.

Hey, Alban, Prof, back here, a graduate student called out shortly after the lights were turned on.

What have you got? he asked while he picked his way around the central mass to the back of the cavern.

A black statue I think. See, sticking out of the other black stuff making up the base. Looks like a bird. Difficult to see.

While they watched the statue lurched and began to subside sideways into the black crumbly material.

Shit! The black crap’s falling apart! Alban yelled and jumped forward to plunge his hands into the now sticky, granular mass to grab the disappearing object.

He heaved it up, half way out of the black grains. With his next pull the statue came out, scattering grains everywhere. Alban stumbled backwards, nearly falling over when the statue was lighter than he expected. At first glance he was holding a large, jet black statue of a bird. Alban did not delay to examine it, instead passing it to his astonished student.

Quick, he yelled, plunging his arms back into the gluey granules. There might be more! he urged the others as he trawled his arms through the mess.

No one raced forward to help but watched him sieving his arms through the mass with increasingly horrified looks. His student was quick to place the statue on the ground and stood up to flick off any black grains adhering to his hands and clothes. He thanked his lucky star the statue was clear of them and only a few were transferred to him from Alban’s hands.

Come on! Alban urged. Ah ha, he cried in triumph when his questing hands found another object.

Sticks, forks and rakes. Quick, Quentin yelled at them, overcoming his shock at Alban’s recklessness.

Alban was having trouble grasping his latest discovery. He finally managed to clasp it and his hand emerged with a fat lozenge shaped object. It began to slip out and he hurriedly deposited it on the ground. Curiously, the lozenge was completely free of the sticky black grains, unlike Alban’s hands and arms which were coated with the stuff. A few specks were even clinging to his face and his front was dark with granules. He was about to dive in again when Quentin stepped in front of him.

No! Quentin said forcefully. Go and wash up! Get that stuff off you!

Alban tried to dodge around him but Quentin was ready, and nimbly blocked him. Alban straightened up before responding.

Clear off, Quentin. You don’t believe those old fables do you. This is nothing like an old bracelet or medallion.

No, Alban! But this is very unusual. Better safe than sorry, don’t you think! You’re too impulsive. So what if artefacts sink into this stuff. We can dig them up later.

We don’t have the time, remember! Extended once, no chance of another. If we hadn’t stuffed around with the tomb! he said in frustration.

Yeah, Alban’s tomb, the unknown lord. Your namesake and a known mystery. This was a few faint smears on survey recordings.

But … . Alright. No raking over old arguments, we’ll only waste more time. Rakes and sticks lashed together to make wide rakes. Trawl through the gritty granules for anything else. He looked around to spot the two objects he managed to remove.

Yes, yes, he continued, seeing Quentin’s expression. I’ll go wash but first I want to see what we found. Look, it’s drying off anyway.

Alban demonstrated his words by passing a hand over one sleeve to produce a soft rain of black sand. He squatted down in front of the statue.

An eagle! That’s her sign! Light’s not good, but … this is … chaos and blight! Look at the workmanship.

Yeah. This other one too, Quentin replied from where he was bent over examining the second object Alban retrieved, being very careful not to touch it. Very smooth and regular. Prudent to not touch this.

What! Are you …

Humour me, Alban. What’s the harm in protecting these from us at least?

Fine. But the eagle. I want to look at it more closely, thank you. Yes, okay. I’ll leave you here and go clean up. But be careful. This lot is priceless.

Quentin watched him leave. Of course I’ll be careful! But he understood Alban’s excitement and frustration: even with this extraordinary find they were leaving the next day with no chance of further extensions. He turned to the students and workers who were watching their exchange and organised some to rake through the black granules while he oversaw the preservation of the lozenge and eagle statue. When they were protected and wrapped to his satisfaction he turned his attention to the mound of black fibrous material in the centre of the sandy grains. One of the students gave a cry when she felt her rake bump against something. The others rushed over to help but they did not come up with anything. After the excitement died down Quentin told a couple to put on gloves and collect some bottles of the black, grainy material for future analysis.

Something for the chemists to look at, hey, Alban commented later when Quentin showed him the eight identical looking bottles of powder.

From the shape, this stuff was holding something but now it’s falling apart. Look’s like whatever was in there has been removed. From the size of the depression I guess a few to manhandle it out. No way anyone did that without us noticing last night. The students photographed everything but I don’t think the photos will show much, too black.

Alban did not reply. Quentin took the opportunity to examine his hands and sleeves.

Hmm, I see you cleaned up, he commented. New overalls?

Yeah, easy. Stuff all brushed off, even the overalls. No need to change, Alban replied.

In the dim light neither noticed his hands were slightly darker than usual and the overalls were covered on the inside with a fine black coating which was slowly leaching into him.

And no ill effects, Alban added cheerfully. This statue! Let’s see it in a good light.

Quentin was about to stop him but: it’s only a statue. No one is handling the lozenge though.

Here, Quentin volunteered, passing him a pair of cotton gloves and helped to uncover it.

The statue was impressive. A large eagle with his head turned to the left giving him an imperial look except his eyes were closed. Alban first stepped back to obtain an overall impression, then manoeuvred the light to a better position before stepping forward with his magnifying lens.

Somewhat bigger than life size, Quentin commented.

Alban only grunted in return and kept surveying the statue with his magnifier.

And it has an odd hump down from the head and along its back, Quentin added.

After a few minutes Alban stepped back and gave the lens to Quentin with a simple, You have a look. When he focussed on the statue’s surface he immediately knew what attracted Alban’s attention. The workmanship was incredibly fine. Each barb, and even the barbules, were clearly visible. He sucked his breath in. He even saw mistakes where they crossed over or skipped one. Quentin looked at Alban.

Yeah. Like a real eagle was turned to stone, Alban commented.

This is not stone though, too light.

You’re right. Let’s have a look at the legs.

No matter how hard they searched they found no evidence of a pouring hole or any other finishing marks to mar the perfection of the statue in their hands.

Flight

Sir, incursion in Sector H3.

Where’s … bugger, on the edge of the badlands, Lieutenant Hans said.

Ah, sir. We have a section doing live fire training nearby. Redirect to check it out?

How far are they?

Five minutes, sir.

Right. Get them on it. Alert a perimeter group in the off chance they need back up.

Sir!

- Reanimant? Further identification required, - Bio3 sent in reaction to the unexpected response to the identification request she always directed at units detected within or nearing her exclusion zone: this was the first response she had received for an extremely long time. Bio3 reappraised the feed from when the target was first detected and realised it was anomalous in more than one way: this incursion was not like the ones she was accustomed to dealing with. The principal oddity was Bio3 only detected one target, not a group of them. Bio3 was trying to determine what this meant when the automatic identification protocols of the target, which initially described itself as a reanimant, kicked in. The communication was using protocols Bio3 had not used for a very long time. She delayed her response and initiated a search through her old data stores. The result was very surprising, but she knew what was required and commenced transmitting the identification checks and sequences which only one other entity in the whole world knew. The reply was correct in every respect.

Bio3 paused yet again. Centuries had passed since the disappearance of The Lord Marshal. In that time Bio3 had continued her development of augmented nano-agents, inoculants and delivery systems, diversified her resources widely and dramatically improved her own capabilities. Over the last decades she had also implemented a program of ‘persuasive defence’ which was aimed at modifying a perceived threat’s actions to divert it, rather than to confront or deactivate it. This low level, low confrontation approach was in response to the increasing sophistication she observed in a new potential enemy which had established a base of operations not too far removed from her location. She was unsure whether they were friend or foe. But, with no higher directive, she maintained an extensive exclusion area around herself, primarily achieved by the use of her ‘persuasive defence’. So far she had managed to deflect attention away from her without needing to resort to more overt actions. Her actions complied perfectly with the Lord Marshal’s last instructions to her.

Bio3 was accessing data many centuries old in an attempt to gain a better understanding of the situation when a cluster of sentinel biota signalled another incursion, an armed group approaching the exclusion area. As usual, they were not responding to the requests for identification and, more ominously, their path was on a line to intersect with the Lord Marshal. Bio3’s prime directive forced her to respond.

- Lord Marshal! Lady Anita d’Abbotet. Threat at 11 o’clock, 900 metres from your location. No ID. Tagged as hostile. All local units activated for elimination of potential threat. Repeat, threat at 11 o’clock from your current path, 900 metres and closing. Dispatching large carriers, - Bio3 sent in warning.

But other than the repeating identification codes the Lord Marshal did not reply, did not change course, and continued to head towards danger. Bio3 directed the biota to increase surveillance of the area the Lord Marshal was blundering towards and despatched high speed dragon-biota teams to respond if the need arose. Heavy carrier units loaded with more dragon-biota, support-biota, toxin reservoirs and nano-biotics, scuttled up the nearest access chutes.

Probably a blighted malfunction, Corporal Grummond grumbled to himself after receiving the command to check the perimeter. He relayed the new instructions to his section. There new course moved them further away from the main camp. Grummond was two back from the point man when he stopped and signalled for him to come forward.

Looks like something’s in there, the point man whispered.

He was interrupted by a burst of rapid fire from the other end of the line. They both saw the foliage kick and jump as it was shredded by a number of rounds discharged in the direction the point man was indicating.

Hold your fire you idiots, Grummond yelled, jumping up.

Pop up target, Corporal. It’s what we’re shooting at! the reply came back.

No you idiot, didn’t you hear! Been a perimeter breach! Might be civilians in there. Balls man, if you hit anyone. No firing unless we are attacked.

But the damage was done. One of the small calibre rounds clipped Lord Marshal Anita’s left arm. Bio3 reacted immediately to nullify the threat. Anita’s camouflage capability automatically responded. She veered away from the danger as her survival instincts kicked in.

- Immediate deactivation order. Utmost priority in defence of the Lord Marshal. - Bio3 informed her, still with no response. A rush of beetles, dragon-flies and spiders descended on the hapless soldiers. Some burrowed into their protective clothing aided by others which ripped the cloth to allow their smaller brethren through. Within moments of being bitten the soldiers collapsed. Seconds later, they were all past the point of recovery as their nervous system froze up. Anita kept moving, oblivious to the threat and what was happening behind her.

- Bio3. Threat eliminated. Awaiting further instructions. -

The Lord Marshal jogged on, unaware.

Corporal Grummond. Respond immediately. Corporal Grummond!

Lost contact, sir. They went silent. Brief burst of gunfire. Grummond yelling at someone. Followed by a couple of grunts then silence.

Move in the perimeter group now! Tell them a section’s off air and to take care, don’t rush in. What’s their ETA?

Twenty minutes, sir.

Shit, tell the buggers to hurry up. Blighted Grummond, what’s he stumbled into this time? Lieutenant Hans griped to himself, still not overly concerned.

Anita’s body was running on automatic as it had for the last few days, feeding itself, recovering its strength and heading towards the only familiar signals it detected. Her body was dodging through the undergrowth with its appearance mimicking the surrounding patterns and colours while it tried to move towards the most coherent source. But now the Anita body was confused. The signal was all around, pulsing up and down: her body did not know which way to go. Fortunately her conscious mind was slowly being joggled awake by incessant demands for attention. Some small comprehension of her surroundings was seeping into her brain.

The signal which initially attracted her became distorted, overlaid by a tearing, buzzing sound which was very distracting. Shaking her head to get rid of the noise made it worse before the jumble resolved itself into words when she finally became conscious of her self.

- Bio3. Marshal, please respond. Threat eliminated. More enemy personnel arriving. Status is to eliminate all potential assailants. Awaiting orders. -

Bio3? Bio3? Bio3! Bears guts. Anita mentally recoiled at the dark feelings of death and destruction which were viscerally associated with the name. The words broke up into buzzing fuzz again when her mind slipped back towards unconscious reaction before she asserted herself again. More memories of Bio3 filtered up to the surface of her mind like they were struggling through thick honey. At least the honey was warming, becoming thinner.

-Hullo? … Bio3? I’m getting there.- was her first coherent response to the urgent requests pinging into her mind.

Perimeter group in position, sir. Reporting bodies on the ground. No obvious wounds but none are moving.

Give me the handset.

Sergeant, what’s the situation? Lieutenant Hans queried when the handset was in his hand.

Patrol’s in sight, sir. All on the ground. No movement.

Careful. Send a couple up to check the nearest but cover them.

Live fire, sir?

Yes. Live. Something bad’s going on.

Hans faintly heard the Sergeant instruct his men to load live ammunition followed by the clicks and clacks of metal on metal and guns cocking. The order detailing two to creep forward and reconnoitre the prone men came over clearly too, followed by a short pause.

Arrived at the first body, sir, the Sergeant’s voice was startlingly loud when he spoke directly into his handset. Signalling no signs of a fight an … what the! Jens, he stood up with a surprised look on his face and toppled over. Rob’s backing away but … what? He slapped at something and … he’s down too!

Sergeant. What’s going on?

Two down, sir! No fire. Nothing! They collapsed in front of us. Look like the others. Lying on the ground, no signs of injury. What do I do?

Blight and Chaos! Don’t send any more in. Pull back and observe. Anyone else does the falling trick, clear out fast. I’m sending this further up. Blight! Ten on my watch. Here, he finished, shoving the handset back to the operator. Keep in contact. Tell me if anything more happens, he said, turning to snatch up his desk phone and start rapidly dialling.

Anita’s memories were firming up. Her first recollections of previous contacts with Bio3 were of her attempts to persuade her to do nothing. Not understanding the full situation, Anita replied in response to Bio3’s insistence on further instructions.

-Wait. Hold. No action. Bio3, where are you?-

- I am all around you, Lord Marshal. Primary concentration in Bi-Silo3 with distributed sub-nodes in case of silo attack. Confirming no further assault order. Observe and respond only as necessary. -

-Yes. Can you guide me? Looks different here.-

She jogged on. Her memories of recent events were sharpening faster than the haziness that enveloped her older memories. However, contemplation of her newer memories jogged related, older ones. Sounded like spark guns but faster and sharper. Must have solved the reload problem. She continued moving in the direction Bio3 was directing her. Hmm. Don’t remember this. Undergrowth’s far too thick, and what’s with all the sticky strands, like the place is infested with spiders. And her left arm ached for some reason.

-Bio3, what happened before?-

- Enemy section fired on you, Marshal. Threat eliminated. Another group approached and two were deactivated before your observe only command. -

Fired? Oh yes, suppose it fits, Anita at first wondered at the term, but when she recalled Frederic’s guns and how sparks were used to make them shoot it became obvious.

- Second group retreated. Stationary 30 meters back. Repulse? - Bio3 asked.

-No. See what they do. How far to go? What are all the sticky strands?-

- Strands deter the inquisitive. Another 6.23 kilometres, Lord Marshal. -

Sergeant. Can you recall whether your men touched them, any of Grummond’s patrol? Lieutenant Hans asked over the wireless.

Not sure … yes, sir. Squatted to look and stood to signal back to us before they fell.

Right. The idea here is they might be victims of a quick acting drug or poison and are knocked out. Can you see if they are alive?

Too far, sir. Concealed by long grass. No movement.

Hmm. An armoured carrier and generator flat-bed are coming your way with a couple in fire suits so they can check them. Keep your eyes open in case whoever used the drug or spread it around is still in the vicinity.

Twenty minutes later Anita was standing in front of a hole in the side of a bank. Normally the access hole was concealed, but the creepers were being held back by two groups of large, spider like creatures. Bio3 was telling her the burrow was the way in, but it looked barely wide enough. Bio3 was also cautioning her to move slowly and watch out for other biota since she was much larger than any of them. She knelt down to wriggle her way underground. The tunnel suddenly became darker when her feet cleared the entrance and the creepers fell back into position. After a short flat section the tunnel angled down. Spots of faint luminescence on the walls provided the only light.

-Rather dark here- she commented.

- Further in I have some light panels. Once you are past the collapsible tunnel. -

-Can I stand then?-

- Yes, Lord Marshal. The corridor is part of the original bunker system designed for people. -

Anita continued to crawl forward and down into the dark. The first hint she was approaching Bio3’s bunker was when the floor flattened and she nearly tumbled forward when she came to a sharp edge. Feeling around and down she realised what the edge was part of.

-I’m at some stairs, Bio3.-

- Look ahead. I have activated the panels but they take time to light properly. -

Anita looked forward and saw a ghostly, oval shape below her. The dim light revealed stairs leading down to the oval with numerous biota of a multitude of shapes and sizes scuttling around. Fortunately, most of them were on the walls and ceiling. She continued to crawl down the stairs. When she drew nearer she realised what the oval reminded her of. It was an open door, very like the one in Comna which Dray, the wolf-human, took her to. How long ago? she wondered. However, the door was missing, only the doorway was intact. At the bottom of the stairs she was able to stand and make her way through into pale light. Looking around she was even more reminded of Comna. The sight made her wonder how much time had passed. She asked Bio3 how many years had passed since she last talked to her. The answer stunned her. Hundreds and hundreds of years. So long! Why?

- You appear surprised, Lord Marshal. -

-Yes. I did not realise. Something’s gone wrong. I was only intending … Bear’s breath! F’lar, where is he, and Aufpar?-

- I do not know, Lord Marshal. Only you appeared. Do you want me to send biota out to look for them? I have a highly likely estimate for where you came from. Your reaction suggests you have recently emerged from some form of sustainment matrix. In which case there is limited time because with you gone the matrix will degrade. -

-Blight! I must go back. To the … . Near Flidner’s Chasm, close to Alban’s tomb. F’lar said we would be there for only a few years. He constructed the matrix.-

Her words triggered a wave of great sorrow to wash through her. The very sorrow which convinced her to retreat from the world for a span of years to let the familiar change and pass away in the hope time would lessen it. Of course it’s still like yesterday for me. Blight, what did I expect! But everything has changed, and … so long, she wondered, confused, before pulling her thoughts and feelings together and wrapping them with determination. F’lar and Aufpar. They need me!

-Right. Bio3. Must go back and look for them!- she sent.

- I will key biota to you. Fuel, food too and a secure optical relay link. I detect much radio chatter, Lord Marshal. Most clear, some crudely encrypted. -

One thing hasn’t changed, Anita thought wryly when she turned to go back up the steps to the crawl way. Most of what she says still doesn’t make any sense.

Lieutenant, sir, Sergeant Matlock saluted smartly when Lieutenant Hans swung off the still moving flat-bed truck.

Sergeant, he gave a quick salute back. At ease. Anything changed here?

No, sir. They’s a just laying on the ground.

Hmm. We have two in fire suits. Self contained, and a number of air bottles, to check if they are unconscious or, Blight preserve us, dead. In which case we have bags and we’ll dump the fire suits here.

An hour and a half later Hans looked dismally at the eight sealed bags secured on the flat-bed and the other two still lying on the ground. In retrospect the generator flat-bed was a bad choice, being too small, but it was all he was able to arrange quickly.

Sergeant, he called him over. We can fit these two in the carrier at your feet rather than stacking them on top of each other. Will your men be happy travelling with them?

Not Jens or Rob, are they? No. On flat-bed? Will be right, sir.

Good. Form them up and get them on board. Then, who knows? Sergeant, I advise you to order your thoughts. You will be questioned back a the base. Blight, what a disaster!

***

Three days later Anita was approaching the abandoned dig site. The surrounding countryside was oddly quiet and seemed devoid of large animal life. The landscape around her certainly looked bleak, in marked contrast to what she travelled through before. What she was seeing reinforced the information from Bio3 about the area having a bad reputation. She shrugged, causing a slight jostling of the dragon fly biota which covered her. A gift from Bio3, the dragon flies were loaded with deadly toxin, were useful for reconnoitring for short periods and were programmed to respond instantly to defend her. They also augmented her camouflage. Bio3 had promised to link them with her properly when she returned.

-I can see where the camp was set up and … yes, looks like someone is still here, but no tents and no movement- Anita sent but did not expect a response.

The ‘optical relays’ passed through a number of specialized biota which introduced a significant delay. By mutual agreement they decided Bio3 was not to comment unless she had something important to say. Looking around, Anita spied the gash in the earth where the trench sloped down to her resting place for many hundreds of years. She jogged over to peer over the edge in case the owners of the small campsite were still around. What she saw caused her to pause and listen. Sprawled out at the bottom was the body of a man. His head and torso where hanging down from the high lip of the gap while his legs were still inside. One blackened hand held a black staff and a long bag was close to his other hand. The hole in the wall looked softer: she realised it was sagging and partly collapsed. Not hearing anything, she edged her way down. After her sight adjusted to the dim light she saw what caused his death. His arm and hand were black and withered: his hand was still clutching the black staff he must have found within. Anita turned here attention to the long bag on the ground beside him. Gently lifting the flap she found two quivers of black shafted and black fletched arrows along with the bow which shot them, but no dark capsules like the ones Bio3 told her might be present.

It was deadly quiet. She ducked her head into the opening and stepped over the body to enter the chamber. Inside was darker, but enough light filtered in for her to see a hole in the middle of the floor and mounds of black grit and dust heaped against the walls. One of the piles showed traces of colour. Looking closely she picked out the form of another body. This one was completely black and was in the early stages of dissolving. The tatters of the brightly coloured vest which first attracted her attention suggested that whoever it was had a flair for dressing. Poor bastards, what happened to you? Decided to do some of your own prospecting. I wonder where my swords are?

Anita stepped into the cavern and leant forward to see the bottom of the hole were another, less blackened body lay head down. Two scabbards were poking out from under it. Was holding them when she fell. After checking the hole, and determining she was not likely to be trapped in it, she jumped in to land lightly next to the corpse. The partly desiccated body made extracting the two swords and their belt and harness easy. She searched the floor and the body, did not find anything, and jumped out to check the other blackened body and the grit around it. Finding nothing there as well she straightened up to survey the cavern. Anita idly toed the black grit and reconsidered her first impulse to search through it: the robbers had done so already and no doubt put what they found in the long bag. She looked around again for any other possible hiding places. Seeing none, she made her way to the drooping entrance. Place is going to collapse soon. After exiting she bent to retrieve the bag with her arrows and bow, slung it over her shoulder and squatted to release her staff from the black and withered hand. A feeling of greeting whisked through her mind when she grasped it.

-Found bow, arrows, swords and staff, but no sign of capsules or F’lar and Aufpar. Three dead bodies, however. One I understand, he was trying to take my staff. The other two died in the cavern.-

This time Bio3 did reply.

- Sustainment matrix? Unstable but still doing its job and responded to the disturbance. Recommend concealing weapons. Walking stick will be fine for the moment. Culture has changed, will inform more fully when you return. Maybe their capsules were removed. Lord Marshal. I need to appraise you of the current situation. -

Reconnoitre

- Enemy threat within first perimeter, eastern side. Sealing and isolating sectors. Biota primed for immediate response if communications lost. Launch units ready. Lord Marshal’s command stands: observe and respond if needed. Self preservation priority one. -

The army was finally responding after the loss three weeks ago of ten men in unusual circumstances. A patrol, augmented with an Empath from the Monitor Council, was cautiously approaching the area in Sector H3 where the disaster occurred.

Lieutenant Blaise. Lieutenant. Stop! Empath Raiser called to the lieutenant in charge.

Lieutenant Blaise dropped back to the Empath but did not signal for the rest of the platoon to halt. He was not keen on Empath Raiser being attached to his platoon but the Captain insisted and stressed he was to listen to what he said.

Yes, Raiser?

You must stop the advance. This place is weird, I am really uncomfortable.

It was true. Blaise was feeling uneasy and was astute enough to notice his men were too. Everyone knew the reputation of Sector H3 and the loss of Grummond’s section was making them jumpy. The command was to make a preliminary sweep through the sector and report back. Empath Raiser was with them to monitor their behaviour and for anything else he might be sensitive to. He’s picking up on the men’s unease. Must be bad, Blaise mused.

Sergeant, Blaise called him over. No loaded weapons. Magazines full, ready but unclipped. Nothing up the spout. The troops are uneasy, don’t want any accidents. Make sure all the sections know and get the message to the other platoon. He turned back to Raiser. Thank you. We will continue on.

No, Lieutenant, it’s not that. I feel a background buzz. Like I’m in the middle of a diffuse aura which is all around me.

Does it feel aggressive?

No-o, more … doesn’t like me here, happier if I left. The level sometimes zooms up, but only fleetingly.

Hmm. I can feel it too, you know, and my men are uneasy. No doubt not at the same level as you, but … this might be the very reason we are here: to try to discover why this Sector has always been shunned. We will keep going with care. Tell me if this background aura changes, particularly if gets stronger.

A small part of Bio3’s mind tracked the threat while it made slow progress cutting through her northern area before swinging southwards. The fifty-one targets continued on their southerly course for some time, completely unaware of the potential death all around them on silent wings and multitudes of tiny feet. Then they swung around to the northwest. Their new path back was taking them back to their point of entry. All this time Bio3 was monitoring their crude open radio communications. She determined they were looking for something but did not know what they were looking for. As she expected, the targets felt uneasy and wanted to leave, hence the strange command to unload their weapons. Their leader proved prescient when soldiers tried to shoot at shadows or, on two occasions, members of their own platoon. Bio3 contemplated either increasing or decreasing their desire to leave but, realising a change might be perceived as a reaction to their presence, she did nothing.

The actions of the enemy, for these were the people who shot the Lord Marshal, indicated that they were taking an increased interest in the area she had managed to deflect people from for centuries. With their increasing sophistication she reasoned the threat was likely to increase rather than decrease. Bio3 decided to extend her active perimeter, further infiltrate the enemy base and increase the encryption security for the biota.

Many years before, when Bio3 noticed the increasing capability of the new forces around her, she became concerned at the vulnerability of her single location. Coupled with her continuing failure to make her primary missile systems functional she began burrowing in the direction of Bi-Silo4. With the increased effort she recently allocated to the burrowing she was a month away from reaching her target. Broken down segments of herself, support systems and response systems were already prepared for duplication at Bi-Silo-4 to ensure her capability to retaliate if her current location was compromised. Fortuitously, Bi-Silo4 was also in the direction the Lord Marshal intended to go to further reconnoitre the enemy.

Bio3 continued to listen to the radio chatter while the targets made their way out of her primary perimeter. For now, she was safe, but the intrusion firmed her determination to increase her efforts to safeguard her capability to perform her primary mission.

You didn’t find anything, Major Fillepe addressed Lieutenant Hans, not expecting an answer. But you, Empath Raiser, your report says, ‘an aura all around me’. How is that possible?

Don’t know, sir.

And, you go on to say this aura was unlike anything you have ever felt. Not human, you say, more like what you feel from animals but unlike them, highly, and you use the word, ‘motivated’. What do you mean?

With animals, ah, they are not as directed or as forceful as people. Whatever is producing the aura I felt has a purpose, it is very directed. Definitely not the collective presence of a large number of animals. But, err, with you, for example. I can tell your aura comes from you. It is localised where you are. But in the forest it was all around. I felt it coming from the trees, the grass, the sky, even. I am sure it was aware of me and wanted me to leave. Absolutely no mistaking it, sir, whatever I felt most definitely wanted me to leave. And … I felt a threat behind the aura too. The source thinks it can make me leave. It did not like me, us, being there.

Lieutenant?

Yes, sir. We all felt uneasy. Not to the same degree but we were happy to get out of the place, sir.

Okay. How does this fit in with the deaths? he mused to himself.

I don’t know, sir, Raiser replied.

Blight, I don’t expect you to! What do we do now?

Again, he was not really expecting an answer but Raiser responded anyway.

Sir. Need a better Empath than me, and might I suggest more than one. This must be brought to the attention of the Monitor Council. And, ah, sir. I’m picking up a faint echo here too. Might be because I’m more aware of it after the excursion in H3. Much lower. I doubt anyone else is aware of it. Lieutenant, you? No, right?

Yeah. Maybe. The Colonel is declaring the area strictly off-limits. This will not be the end of it. Remember this is all classified and no idle gossip, even with your fellow Empaths or officers with clearance. Strictly a need-to-know and no one you know has the need. Understand! Good. Dismissed.

Major Fillepe leant back in his chair and watched the two rise and leave, closing the door behind them. Blighted Monitor Council. Humph. Check with the Colonel first. I bet she takes it to Area Command. Don’t want a bunch of civvies mucking around on our land. Not sure about Raiser. Blighted Empaths think laws are for others and special laws for them.

He sighed and picked up the top sheets in his in-tray to distract himself. Blight and crap! He sat up as he read the report. Bugger it! Ten dead and this garbage to vex me! But Major Fillepe knew the potential impact on morale and the functioning of the camp of the ‘garbage’ in the report. The pages in his hands concerned a number of petty thefts of money. He checked the following pages to discover more. He looked up at a knock on the door and saw his assistant’s head poking around.

Yes! Fillepe snapped.

Sorry, sir. Four more … ah, thefts, sir. At the gym this time.

Blight! Come on, Fillepe replied with his hand out.

His assistant hastened to place the four sheets in his hand, paused, to make ensure he had no requests, and, with a relieved expression, escaped back to his desk in the outer office.

Fillepe scanned the four new reports. Bugger, bugger, bugger. Ten dead and some low-life is stealing from his mates.

Interview at the Museum

Who is he, Professor Alban? Your namesake. Is there a story there? No? Buried like a lord but no mention of him other than his tomb, Marian Hauspat, reporter for the Daily Sound, asked while standing beside Associate Professor Alban Clare in front of a deeply inscribed stone sarcophagus.

Associate Professor, he corrected her. But, yes. Good to see you did some background research. Consort to a god. What the writings found with him imply anyway. No one’s really been able to work him out. He’s an anomaly. As you say, no mention of him anywhere except on his elaborate tomb. Consort to Anita the devastator or Anita the creator. Take your pick. The demigod figure credited with firing up the Renaissance Period, the accelerated understanding of the old technologies and, some say, the direct cause of where we are now.

Wasn’t the Bear cult involved too?

You have done your homework. But, no. Earlier, yes, straight out of the Chaos. The Anitans eventually absorbed the Bears and all but swept them away.

Alban turned. When Marian followed his lead he set off for his office.

What about the two Queens, Helia and Renee. Sisters who lived for so long. One in the north, one in the south. I recall another shadowy figure associated with both of them. Essa, I think? she asked when they were passing through the door out of the display room.

Alban paused to study the journalist more closely: for her to ask such questions meant her interest in the renaissance times was not recent.

You are well versed in all of this? he commented.

Oh, yes, um. Marian was a little embarrassed. I’m a member, event organiser, of the Anachronism Club. Ah, we do re-enactments, she added after noticing his puzzled expression. Pretend to live like we are back in Lord Alban’s time. We have Meets and Tourneys and dress their way but we’re not fanatical. Often ends up in a party, with a modern band or music.

Like dress-ups?

No, we try to be authentic. You would be great. We need someone to keep us honest and with your knowledge …, she finished with some enthusiasm.

I did do some archery once to try to appreciate it, he admitted.

Yes, we do archery and sword and staff.

Maybe. Authentic you say?

As best we can.

Right, hmm. Back to your question. Helia and Renee. One theory posits they were nurtured by the devastator/creator herself. Some suggest they were her children but other evidence indicates they were from different ruling families of the time.

I recall that they were very strong in empathy.

Yes, exceptional. Probably nothing like them since. Yvette, she … you do know of Yvette? Hmm. Ah, maybe, anyway, well documented and generally accepted. High level Empaths the both of them, probably Ratings. And of course Anita is described as being far above them. Very confused at the time and is mixed up with the invasion of the Usulu.

If she was considered a god! What would they all believe! Ha, Marion chuckled. Be interesting to see our current crop of politicians’ reaction to someone like her given the ‘problems’ they have with the Empaths. But this is all legend, isn’t it?

You’re right. Except … are you …?

No, not like an Empath, but, yeah, close. Helps in my job.

Right. To be expected I suppose. With all your questions you only hint on the last.

Oh yes, You mean Essa. She’s a real enigma.

Another demigod figure. You know how the legends say Anita placed Helia on the throne at Darham. Here’s something you might not know. Good evidence, sparse though, suggests a Vanessa did the same in the south. With Renee. But it’s confused. Also mention of an Uessa. Maybe the same person. Some suggest Anita and Vanessa are the same person known by different names. Be much easier if the remnants of the Bear Cultists in Inaland had not destroyed so much when they tried to take their old Mother House back and exert their influence on the mainland again.

I didn’t know the possible connection, Marian replied and made some hasty notes while they continued walking.

Here we are, he announced shortly afterwards, and unlocked a door marked, ‘STAFF ONLY’, to lead her into a narrow corridor which took them to a wider hall. Faster by the main way but you wanted to go by King, or Lord, Alban. I’m a short way down the corridor.

Alban opened the door to his office.

Don’t say it, he said when he saw Marian surveying the piles of papers on his desk and collection of minor artefacts cluttering the shelves.

He cleared a chair to give her a place to sit.

Marian, you want to talk about my, well, Quentin’s I suppose, he was the lead, latest expedition.

Marian flipped back two pages to check her notes before asking him about the recent exploration into the badlands near Flinner Gap. She skipped through the days spent at the site of Lord Alban’s tomb to concentrate on the last two days when what people were starting to refer to as ‘The Crypt’ was discovered. She was finishing off, disappointed at the lack of decent pictures when he produced a sketch of the two objects he rescued, the only two things of real import they came back with.

Not bad, she complimented his drawings. The eagle. That is an Anitan symbol, one we still use. Lends support to your theory?

Yes, but it’s also the sigil of an obscure family back then, the Abbotets. Disappeared around the time the Anitans took over. The lands were occupied by the Usulu. I believe there’s an unknown story hidden there too but … . Alban paused before continuing. I have a theory about it. Some pretty compelling evidence that Anita was also known as Lady Anita Ma de l’Abbotet. Vanessa too. Lends credence to the idea they were the same person. Hinted at in the Ramber Chronicles, the ones attributed to Anita of Ramber. She is the person the Caforde Constitution refers to, the Anita d’Abbotet who is also known as Ma de la Teresse.

Where is the eagle statue now? Marian asked, more interested in the artefact and the possibility of a photograph.

With the museum’s Preservers and Recorders.

Can I …?

No. They won’t even let me in. Been pushing them but the director has a ‘more important’ project on the go. They haven’t started on it yet.

I imagine, yike! Marian jumped, startled by a sharp cracking sound.

Sorry. Mouse problems. Don’t know why the little blighters have suddenly decided the museum is the place for them but one less now. Buggers gnaw and chew anything they can get their teeth onto.

Marian composed herself and started again.

It must be frustrating. Having to leave soon after the discovery and now this delay.

Yes. One of the reasons I’m giving this interview. I believe the director is holding my research back, doesn’t want his pet projects overshadowed. Also, my findings fly in the face of his numerous papers on the ‘Anitan Myths’. He’s not very happy. I think he indulged me and let me team up with the University sure I was going to return empty handed.

***

Marian’s piece on Alban’s expedition and the possible interpretation of his findings only rated a quarter column on the eighth page. Her editor was particularly displeased with the lack of photographs. She was surprised when he called her into his office a week later to send her to the museum again.

Been a break in at the museum. Something stolen from the guy you did the piece on the other day. Go down there, see if there’s anything in it for a follow up. And some decent pictures this time, he told her.

Not long afterwards Marian was wandering down the main office corridor of the museum, looking for Professor Clare’s door. She recognised the narrow corridor leading to the museum display area and soon after was saying hullo to him as he invited her in. He was flustered and angry.

The blighted Director. At least Quentin saw the eagle too and can vouch for the exemplary craftsmanship. The photographs we took are useless. The statue is such a uniform black, it’s like it absorbs the light.

Slow down. No one’s given me any details. What’s happened?

The eagle statue. Someone’s … bugger them. Come and see for yourself.

Alban jumped up and led her out of his room to a set of stairs which he descended rapidly.

Wait, where are we going? Marian called while she hastened to keep up, hindered by the bulky camera banging on her hip.

Down to the Preservers and Recorders. Not open to the public but I’m making an exception. Police think it’s theft but why? I’m not normally paranoid, but I wonder if the Director is behind it.

They clattered down a second flight of stairs before he took them through some doors on the left.

Here. See.

Marian looked at the police tape cordoning off a small section of the room. The only remarkable object was a wooden box. One side of it was smashed and ripped open with splinters of wood and straw scattered in front of it along with a several sheets of paper and some small objects.

Look, there’s a hole in the back, she said when she walked right up to the tape and bent down for a closer look.

What? Alban peered into the box through the shattered face. Yeah. Blighted mice. I said we have a problem.

Why not take the whole box?

Good question. Police reckon it’s too bulky, eagle is smaller.

But they might damage it.

Yeah.

Marian steadied her camera on the side of a column and snapped a couple of shots. She decided to take one with a flash-bulb. After some fiddling and false shots the camera finally cooperated.

Camera’s temperamental. Sorry, she apologized while she was gingerly removing the hot bulb with a handkerchief.

However, the closer she examined the torn apart wooden box the more puzzled she became.

Why break up the box? Much easier to pry the planks off and make less noise too.

Yeah, perplexing. It’s pretty much shredded, be awkward to remove the statue.

What Marian said made Alban consider the box more closely. He crouched down to examine it.

In fact, he said but stopped. Nearly impossible to take the statue out, hole’s too small.

How’d they get out? Marian interrupted him after disposing of the bulb in a convenient bin.

What, oh yeah. Police are flummoxed. Door was locked. Maybe they had a key, but why bother to lock it? The hole in the window is suggestive. He pointed up to the top of a window which was missing most of a pane of glass.

But? The top of the window?

Yeah, they don’t know either. One idea is they threw the statue through the window.

Come off it. Why?

Look at the floor. Not much glass here, it’s all outside. Means the window was broken from the inside, probably by the chunk of wood on the ground outside. Looks like it was thrown through.

But … too risky, too likely to damage the statue.

Yeah, or maybe they handed it out to someone. Police haven’t a clue. They are saying it’s a theft. But why only take my eagle? What about all the other stuff in here? And the lozenge?

Do you think the Director …? Marian asked, alluding to his previous suspicions but leaving it unstated.

I don’t know. The whole thing is very peculiar. He’s ordered the lozenge locked away in the safe which is making it more difficult to work on. I have X-ray time this week but that’s been delayed. Um, maybe if you don’t mention what I said about the director.

Alright, she replied hesitantly.

Thank you.

"But … I want the sketch you made, or a copy.