The Far Shores (The Central Series) (58 page)

Curiosity, too, he would
have understood. Dr. Graaf believed deeply in the basic human fascination with
the unknown, and science was the primary tool by which the unknown could be
observed, measured, and eventually understood. In the same way that some of the
patients in the initial trials of nanite implantation that he had conducted
with Gaul and Vladimir years before had been excited, in some inspiring and perverse
way, to be the subjects of a study that could lead to the advancement of
knowledge or death – the two not being mutually exclusive. He would have
empathized, had the Changeling realized the potential of her current situation
and succumbed to the allure, the tremendous potential inherent in her being. No
such reaction was evident, however, when he showed her the wonders of the
physics and chemistry departments – the new fabric they had developed that was
a liquid until it encountered body heat, at which point it baked itself into a
flexible and comfortable solid form; the metals that had attributes ranging
from superconductivity to near impenetrability; the laboratory that held a
reactor at its core that simulated the fusion process that occurred in the
hearts of stars; the sapling World Tree, sequestered in its armored chamber,
invasive branches working their way into everywhere. None of these marvels
moved her.

Instead, she went were
she was told to go, watched without comment what she was told to observe, and
neither asked questions nor praised or questioned that which he showed her. The
work of the Far Shores was designed to excite, to explore the furthest reaches
of what science was capable of, and it had never previously failed to earn a
reaction of some kind, be it the wonder that kept his staff working through
their long hours and isolation, or the fear and revulsion that had exiled Dr.
Graaf and his work to the lonely fringe in the first place.

The Changeling’s
reaction puzzled him at the same time it reinforced his intentions. Dr. Graaf
was willing to sacrifice his own humanity for the sake of knowledge, which he
avidly believed to be the noblest of virtues. But that particular sacrifice
would clearly not be required of him in this case – because the “girl” was
anything but. She was female, as a physical examination had confirmed, and her
genetics were similar to that of a human, as initial testing indicated, but
concepts like “young,” “innocent,” and “tragic” could not be applied to her.
The things his staff had discovered with a handful of cell and blood samples, a
small selection of MRI images, and a cursory exam were astonishing – they would
be years in analyzing and digesting what had been found, and years more in
synthesizing and applying it. If Dr. Graaf had his way, he would have given her
over to Dr. Tsu and his biological labs for years, given him time to grapple
with the code of her DNA and the fabric of her nervous system, allowed
opportunity to explore and sample her every depth and recess. Even now, he was
tempted to make just a minor allowance, for the sake of what they could have
done with the time.

Sadly, he could not risk
even such a small dalliance, regardless of the potential reward. Though the
abduction had been successful, the discovery of the Changeling’s disappearance
was inevitable, as was the retribution that would follow, assuming he did not
prepare adequately. While the Far Shores campus was fortified and defensible,
he knew that such practicalities would mean nothing to the Changeling’s
self-appointed guardians – Rebecca Levy would brush them aside if she were roused,
and the Director was even more fearsome. What Dr. Graaf needed, he knew, was a
discovery of such indisputable and irreplaceable value as to place him, and the
Far Shores, beyond the possibility of any consequence. Despite their emotional
attachment to the Changeling, the administrators of Central were concerned with
the community’s survival above all things. If he had something critical to
Central’s continued existence, they would be forced to allow him to continue
unmolested, regardless of how deeply they might despise him for it. A finding
that would force them to leave the Changeling in his care, assuming she was not
destroyed in the process of the experiment.

This was why he had
taken the Changeling to the power plant to end her tour, to the core of the
facility where the strange alloy recovered from the oldest ruins in Central was
purified and then put into direct contact with the Ether. Because of what he had
seen during her previous visit to the Far Shores, on the beach, when the
Changeling had walked on top of the Ether like the fairytales of Jesus of
Nazareth that he had been taught as a child.

“It is magnificent, is
it not?” Dr. Graaf asked, vainly attempting to provoke a reaction. He pointed
to the enormous articulated mechanical housing that lowered the rods into the
Ether. “The entire facility is built suspended over the sea of Ether. The rods
housed inside are made of a material outside of the periodic table, of unknown
and radical properties that we are only beginning to understand. Among those
properties, the foremost is the ability to survive direct contact with the
Ether. As I am certain you learned at the Academy, any material making physical
contact with the Ether is immediately destroyed. Even the nanites, and the
Operators who are infused with them, can only come into contact with the
radiated Etheric energy, rather than the substance itself.”

“Oil and water,” Eerie
murmured, staring down at the Ether with her wide and disconcerting eyes.

“What is that, my dear?”

“Something I told a
friend once, about the Ether. How it keeps things separate...”

Dr. Graaf was
immediately intrigued.

“You are referring to
the Universal Superfluid Theory, yes? A captivating idea, certainly, and one
that has gained a certain amount of traction among the physicists of Central of
late. An interest of yours, I presume?”

The Changeling just
shrugged, seemingly entranced by the endless motion of the conflicting currents
within the Ether.

“As I was saying,” Dr.
Graaf said, clearing his throat to hide his frustration, “the rods are the only
material known that can make physical contact with the Ether. At the point of
contact, a very strange reaction occurs, one that measuring devices insist is
simultaneously unprecedentedly high temperature
and
absolute zero. We
have yet to rectify the inherent contradiction, but we have learned how to take
advantage. The massive temperature differential radiates tremendous thermal and
electromagnetic radiation, which we harness to create electricity, both
directly through a nanite relay, and indirectly, using it to heat large amounts
of water into steam. As a result, less than a centimeter worth of contact
creates enough energy in a fraction of a second to power the whole of Central,
and more. Only storage and transmission challenges have kept us from realizing
the plant’s full potential, and this is only the beginning. As our
understanding of the process improves, we will discover further applications.”

He beamed at the
Changeling, but she ignored him, in favor of the view of the Ether below. Her
reaction insulted him slightly, but it also made his path all the clearer.

“This brings us to your
own role in the project, my dear...”

That got her attention.
Eerie studied him with unreadable eyes and an expressionless face. He led her
down the hallway, through the nearby Life Science adjunct, and then gestured
for her to turn her attention to the next room, where the tanks waited on the
other side of a pane of bulletproof glass, and Dr. Tsu and his staff rushed about
in a frenetic orgy of preparation.

“Even apport technicians
do not directly interact with the Ether. By means that are still poorly
understood, they pass through it – or perhaps it passes through them – without
ever truly making contact. You, Eerie, are the first living thing,” Dr. Graaf
explained, with a genuine and enthusiastic smile, “known to have done so. You
remember, don’t you? At the beach? You retrieved a hat belonging to Alexander
Warner.”

Eerie evidenced her
first reaction – she looked puzzled. Dr. Graaf took it as a positive
development.

“At first, we weren’t
certain, but high-definition recordings and laser measurement confirmed what
our eyes saw – you walked on top of the Ether. As you can see in this image,”
Dr. Graaf explained, directing her attention to a nearby monitor displaying a
still of the Changeling standing atop the sea of Ether, “the soles of your feet
actually displaced the Ether by a few millimeters – indicating direct physical
contact! You should be pleased – the moment was a revelation and inspiration
for all of us here, at the Ether.”

Eerie backed away from
him slowly, until her back pressed against the immobile door.

“I – I want to...to go
home,” she stammered. “Stay away from me.”

“Now, now, my dear. No
need to be frightened. No one here intends you harm. Rather, we intend to place
you into one of these tanks,” he said, pointing at the three-meter capsules on
the other side of the glass, “and then fill it with Ether. They are constructed
from the same material we use for the power rods – it is entirely transparent,
did I mention that? A most useful property for recording results. The
overwhelming
consensus is that you will survive the process, creating the potential for a
dizzying array of discoveries. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Eerie glanced around at
the room, desperate for an exit.

“I don’t want to,” Eerie
declared, pressing the button beside the door repeatedly. “You stay away. Don’t
touch me.”

“Take heart, child. You
will serve the society that has adopted and raised you more through this action
than anything else you might do with the sum of the rest of your life,” Dr.
Graaf assured her, over the rising white noise of the powerful fan system
pushing the air out of the room, to be replaced with a continuous flow of
outside air. “And if we are right, this is only the beginning!”

“Stay away,” Eerie
shouted, trembling. “I am warning you...”

“There is nothing to
fear. We are well aware of your ability to volatize toxic substances, and as a
result, the air in the testing center is constantly cycled out for fresh air, a
complete transfer effected every few seconds. Your biological defense system
will do you no good. In any case, we have given you an injection that will likely
inhibit such actions for the near future – just long enough to begin our tests.
I urge you to be brave, and to share your subjective observations with us! The
more information we can gather from this test, the greater the contribution you
will make to society.”

Dr. Graaf motioned to the
orderlies who waited outside the chamber, dressed in full-body Kevlar suits
with Plexiglas panels to prevent skin-to-skin contact. The door slid open just
as a group of laboratory assistants emerged from the adjoining biology
laboratory, accompanied by a tremendous cacophony of canine barking and
snarling. The orderlies raised their hands and shouted objections through their
masks, but they were barreled aside and knocked to the ground, helpless in
their armor as turtles on their backs, while the lab assistants watched in
dismay, one still holding the snapped remainder of a leash.

Dr. Graaf barely managed
to get out of the way of fifty kilos worth of charging rottweiler, the dog
brushing against his pant leg as it bolted past him and leapt into the arms of
the Changeling, very nearly carrying her to the ground.

“Derrida!” Eerie cried
out. “Good dog!”

The disembodied image of
Haley’s face appeared as a reflection in the dog’s pupils, blurred by the Far
Shores psychic countermeasures.

“Hello?” Haley’s voice
was unsure, as if she were calling into a dark room. “Is something wrong? Derrida,
I can’t see anything. What’s going on?”

Dr. Graaf gestured
frantically at Dr. Tsu, who stared uncomprehending for a painful long moment,
before finally nodding and closing his eyes. A second later, the image of Haley
froze in place, then fractured in two.

“Haley?” Eerie called
out, crouching with her fingers buried in the dog’s raised hackles. “Can you
hear me? Please? I need help!”

“Now child, please do
try and calm yourself,” Dr. Graaf suggested, approaching with his arms held
wide. “There is nothing here for you to be afraid of.”

Derrida snarled as Dr. Graaf
drew near. Out of the corner of his eye, Dr. Graaf watched as the laboratory assistant
helped the armored orderlies stand back up.

“My dear, if you will
simply comply,” Dr. Graaf suggested pleasantly, “I think you will find the
world to be a more agreeable place.”

“No!”

The Changeling pushed
him away with both hands as she shouted, and Dr. Graaf stumbled, catching
himself on an empty server rack.

“Derrida, now!”

Eerie charged out of the
room and through the blunt fingers of the orderlies’ armored gloves, the dog
trailing behind her, lunging at anyone who drew close. Dr. Graaf hurried over,
just in time to stop one of the laboratory assistants from attempting to stun
the fleeing girl with a dart gun they used for sedating large animals.

“Let her go,”
he ordered wearily. “Where is she going to run?”

“Are we really going to trust a Witch?”

“You’re oversimplifying.
It would be fairer to say we are working with the best information available,
regardless of the source.”

Alice adjusted the
binoculars, panning across the massive factory. On first glance it was
dilapidated and in a similar state of abandonment as its crumbling neighbors –
including the building that provided the roof they were currently using as a
vantage, about half a kilometer distant – but a closer inspection, even without
magnification, subtly contradicted that conclusion.

“And that is a
rationalization. My point stands.”

The fence around the
perimeter had fallen, and weeds had thoroughly colonized the remains of the
disintegrating parking lot. The foundation was clearly sinking in the northwest
corner of the enormous building, probably as the result of subsiding soil, and
the whole building was slightly skewed, and a large portion of the roof had
caved in at the southwest. Most of the windows were broken and there was an
ample supply of graffiti and illegally dumped garbage covering the exterior and
most of the grounds. Which was enough to convince any casual observer that the
place wasn’t in use.

To a determined
observer, several discrepancies arose. The road approaching the factory was in
suspiciously good shape for a road that supposedly hadn’t seen use since the
area had been decimated by the Soviet withdrawal, or regular maintenance for
the better part of a decade before. There were areas of patched asphalt that
had been covered with a layer of sand to hide them, and the debris that covered
the adjacent roads was cleared to allow a single lane of traffic, width enough
for a semi-truck. Though most of the windows in the facility were nothing more
than shards of broken glass, some of the boards behind them didn’t show the
same aging and weather as others. Despite the collapse of the ceiling in
several places, no view was afforded of the inside of the warehouse, probably
the result of a dark-colored tarp or something similar being strung across the
gap. But the occasional tire track around the perimeter of the building,
particularly near the surprisingly rust-free loading dock on the less
accessible southern side, was the most damning indication.

“She was right about
Kiev, wasn’t she?” Alice glanced up briefly, making a face at him. “What do you
want me to do, Mikey? Keep the team wandering around in circles, hoping that
something bites them? The interrogation we conducted yesterday indicated this
was the area. Thanks to that Witch, we know what the Anathema are doing, and
what kind of timetable they are doing it under. That’s an advantage we need.”

“Maybe,” Michael
grunted. “Do you believe that stuff about a ‘World Tree’?”

Alice glanced up at him,
lips pursed in annoyance.

“Gaul didn’t call it
that,” Alice said sourly. “But he did suggest that the Anathema were working on
something similar, some sort of Etheric mass transport. When Vlad and the lab
guys went over the machinery we brought back from the raid on the Anathema base
in China, they said there were pieces of something else, a mirroring device
that was separate from the interference generator.”

“Wait a minute,” Michael
said, giving her a hard look. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“I’m not,” Alice
admitted. “The Far Shores proposed something similar during budget discussions.
They didn’t say anything about a tree, or roots in the Ether, or branches that
extended to Central, but maybe that’s just a different way of understanding the
same concept. Whatever Yaga was talking about, whatever the Anathema have built,
that’s based on Workings and witchcraft, you know? It’s not gonna be the kind
of thing you see every day. I’m not shocked by the idea, though, even if I
don’t really understand the execution.”

“Still...”

Alice sighed loudly.

“That’s about enough
questions, Mikey, don’t you think?”

Michael shook his head
vehemently, his dreadlocks whipping from side to side.

“I’m not done. Why not
pull the team back until we can do a full recon, and let the remote viewers
complete their scan? For all we know, we are marching directly into a trap.”

Alice set the binoculars
aside and rose to crouch beside him, concealed behind a rusting HVAC unit on
the roof of the decrepit maintenance facility they currently occupied. Xia sat
with his back to a vent a meter distant, on a sheet of plastic he had laid out
in order to avoid contact with the filth that had accumulated on the
unmaintained rooftop, eyes hidden behind goggles, equally unconcerned with the
advance team’s progress and Michael and Alice’s ongoing debate.

“Listen, Michael – we
don’t have anything else to go on. Bumbling around, kicking things over and
waiting for a reaction, that’s fucking dangerous. It went bad yesterday. It
will get worse the longer we continue to operate that way. And that Witch –
Yaga – warned us that the Anathema are working on a timetable. According to
her, we have hours, not days. And I don’t want to wait to find out what
horrible shit they have planned this time.”

“You see? That’s exactly
what I’m talking about. You’re letting a Witch define the operational parameters.
She’s rushing us into action before we have time for a proper reconnaissance.
And that, Alice, is fucking dangerous.”

“I’m not running solely
on her word,” Alice admitted, shaking her head at his stubbornness. “Gaul got
into contact this morning, and he told me the same thing. Today or never.”

Michael studied her
closely, taken aback by the revelation.

“Really? You didn’t tell
me that...”

“No. I didn’t. I don’t
tell you everything, Mikey,” Alice said tiredly, fixing her ponytail, “because
this isn’t a partnership. Don’t get me wrong – I respect you, and I appreciate
your advice. But you aren’t the Chief Auditor – I am. I make the decisions, I
decide when we do what – and then I have to live with the results. That’s my
responsibility, not yours. What’s going on between us,” Alice added, lowering
her voice, “is personal. Private. That doesn’t make us equals on a professional
level, okay? I don’t have to run shit by you first. You are an Auditor, Mikey.
Which means you take orders from me when we are conducting an Audit. Okay?”

He nodded, chagrined.
Not that it didn’t hurt to hear – part of him desperately wanted to object, to
argue. But he knew that she was right. He had been in charge of his own affairs
as a teacher, running his own department at the Academy, serving on the Board,
and taking orders from Gaul exclusively, and had grown used to making his own
decisions. On some level, it still bothered him, not being consulted – probably
even more so when the orders were coming from the woman he frequently slept
beside.

Then again, he had known
that it would be difficult before he volunteered to become an Auditor.

“Yeah. I hear you. I
don’t like it – but I hear you...boss.”

Alice punched him
lightly in the shoulder.

“Don’t get gloomy. If
I’m wrong, then Gaul will bust me down from Chief Auditor, and you and Mitzi
can fight over who gets to run things. Until that happens, though, I want you
to feel free to offer advice – but stow the objections. Clear?”

“Yes. I have to ask,
though,” Michael said, ignoring Alice’s smirk and the roll of her eyes. “Why did
you pick the personnel you sent? I understand putting Mitsuru on point, but
otherwise, it’s all kids out there. Why hold back all your heavy hitters?”

“Former theory was that
Chike could apport to any location he had seen. Turns out, if he’s provided
with a telepathic survey of a site from a remote viewer, that works, too. I’ve
got him with Karim, so he can move around freely to wherever he needs to be to
provide fire support. You and Xia are with me, so we can be anywhere we need in
no time at all. I’m keeping us flexible, Mikey. We have no idea what we are
going to find in there.”

He nodded, seeing the
wisdom in the arrangement.

“I’m worried about Alex
and Haley, though. Alex is still shaken up from yesterday, and Haley has the
least field experience of any of us...”

“I’m warning you,” Alice
said, returning to her binoculars, “don’t underestimate either of those kids.
Give them half a chance, and they’ll take your head off. Don’t worry, okay?
I’ve got this under control.”

***

It wasn’t much of a hiding place. The
utility room was hardly big enough for the both of them, and terribly dusty,
but it was the only room she had found that locked from the inside. Anyway,
Eerie couldn’t run anymore. Actually, she wasn’t entirely sure that she could
stand.

The raised blotch at the
injection site was swollen and itched, and the skin all around it burned. As
she had run from the Far Shores personnel, Derrida tagging loyally along behind
her, she had started to experience a strange tingling in her fingers and toes,
before they went entirely numb, interfering with her balance and slowing her
pace. Her brow was soaked with sweat, and she had to brush it regularly from
her eyes. Derrida pressed his solid head against her chest and whined, studying
her with his big brown eyes. Eerie hugged the dog around the neck and wondered
what would happen.

“I’m sorry, Derrida,”
Eerie said mournfully. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.”

They would find her. It
was just a matter of walking down the right hallway. She had no specific plan
when she fled, other than finding an exit, and her sudden fit of illness had
deprived her of the opportunity to find one. She had no means of contacting
Central, no way to access the Etheric Network or call for help. Unless Haley
had seen enough to send assistance, the shelter dog was the only resource she
had.

Eerie hugged the dog
closer, and he reciprocated by licking the sweat from her face.

They both froze at the
sound of a nearby footstep, followed by another, gradually moving in their
direction. Eerie sunk her shaking hands into Derrida’s coat, while the dog
growled protectively, situating himself between the sickly Changeling and the
door.

The footsteps came to a
stop directly in front of the utility door. The doorknob rattled several times,
followed by a long sigh. Derrida growled softly, vibrating beneath Eerie’s
fingertips.

“Eerie, would you please
come out of there?” Emily sounded bored, even put out. “I know you’re in that
closet. Alistair told me.”

Eerie hesitated, while
Derrida paced restlessly in front of the door.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you here?”

Emily sighed, smacking
the door with palm of her hand.

“Eerie, I don’t have
time for this.” The doorknob turned hard, the momentum snapping the cheap
built-in lock. “Now, come on already...”

Emily opened the door a
crack, then shrieked and slammed it shut in the face of the snarling, lunging rottweiler
on the other side.

“Holy shit!” Emily took
several deep breaths. “Oh my God. Okay...Eerie, do you have a dog in there with
you?”

“That’s Derrida,” Eerie
explained brightly. “He saved me.”

“That’s nice,” Emily
said coldly. “Now you can save him.”

Eerie pulled Derrida
close in a panic, burying her face in his muscular neck.

“What? What do you mean?
Don’t be awful! He’s just a dog!”

“Eerie, if you come out
of there right now, and close Derrida in behind you, I’m sure that he’ll be
just fine,” Emily suggested sweetly. “If you don’t do exactly what I tell you
to, then I’m going to drown him inside of that closet, and then I’ll drag you
out of there afterwards. Any other questions?”

Derrida whined as Eerie
struggled to her feet. She rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully.

“Thank you, Derrida,”
she whispered, planting a kiss on the top of the rottweiler’s head. “You are a
super good dog.”

Then Eerie opened the
door and stepped out from the utility closet. Emily slammed it shut the moment
she was through, then leaned against the door while Derrida barked and raged on
the other side.

“That was unexpected,”
Emily said, with obvious relief. “Alright, Eerie, let’s take a walk...”

Emily trailed off,
staring at the Changeling, who had slumped down beside the utility room door,
flushed and feverish.

“This is absurd,” Emily
said, hurrying over and trying to pull Eerie up, only to have her collapse
again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

***

“Hold on,” Haley’s ghostly form urged,
one hand pressed to her temple, eyes screwed shut. “There’s something...”

Mitsuru glanced back,
her expression hovering between surprise and concern.

“What is it, Haley? We
are exposed, here. I don’t want to stay any longer than we need to.”

“There are...not people.
Things.” Haley’s eyes snapped open, her glowing outline flickering with alarm. “Mitsuru,
we are surrounded!”