Gary Gibson - Final Days

The suited figures began talking amongst each other about low-pressure zones and high-gravity areas, and of Founders and artefacts. At one point, Farad Maalouf’s face, pale and nervous-looking, became visible through the smeared glass of a suit helmet.

The scene changed abruptly to what appeared to be the deck of a cruise liner, or a ferry, moving through heavy weather, with dark grey clouds scudding low over a stormy sea. Something huge grew out of the water directly ahead, almost incomprehensibly large – obviously one of the alien growths currently dominating the headlines. Enormous leaves were intermittently visible through the cloud cover.

The view then blurred as whoever was making the recording – through contacts, this time – made a sudden movement. There was a brief glimpse of a woman’s face and then the scene changed again, as abruptly as before, now showing Copernicus City as it would appear from further along the crater wall.

Something was wrong, however. The entire city was in ruins, as if it had undergone some cataclysmic aerial bombardment. The view slowly panned around to reveal that the upper levels of the city’s tallest buildings had been sheared off, and their debris scattered for tens of kilometres all around.

Another change of scene, and this time Saul found himself looking at what appeared to be satellite footage taken from low-Earth orbit. He saw the surface of the Earth was now dotted with the same flower-like growths, but in far, far greater numbers than they existed currently.

That settled it, then: this footage was obviously faked. Any reasonably skilled graphic artist could generate images like this, impossible to distinguish from reality. But what gave Saul pause to wonder – even to doubt his own sense of disbelief – was the look of utter dread he saw on Narendra’s face, as he glanced towards him.

‘Farad caused us much consternation,’ said Narendra. ‘He was given the opportunity to infiltrate a highly secretive research project backed by the ASI. At first we rejoiced, because we now had one of our own deep in the enemy’s territory, reporting back to us. It was clear that one of the greatest discoveries ever made in the history of mankind was deliberately being kept hidden from us all. But, within a short period of time, Farad became . . . recalcitrant.’

‘What do you mean, “recalcitrant”?’

‘At first, he refused to report back on anything he had seen and learned, so he was accused of becoming a turncoat. I tried to speak to him, because I was worried for his life, and finally he admitted to me that he was terrified of telling us what he knew in case we thought he was insane. He swore he was working on assembling the proof we would need in order to believe him.’ Narendra shrugged. ‘We had no choice but to go along with that explanation.’

Saul pointed to the TriView display. ‘And this is the proof he was bringing back?’

‘Presumably,’ said Narendra. ‘Although I would rather it was not the case. Please,’ he gestured to the display, ‘there’s more.’

Saul turned back to the TriView and reeled in shock. The view had shifted back to the figures in pressure suits, except that this time some of them had cracked their helmets open, and were engaged in lifting a naked Mitchell Stone on to a makeshift stretcher. His skin was tinged blue and, as Saul watched, an oxygen mask was placed over his mouth. After that, he was carried down a long corridor with a high, vaulted ceiling, the walls decorated with carefully carved glyphs and shapes so utterly inhuman that they verged on the obscene. Another sudden jump-cut, and Saul watched as Mitchell was lifted out of some kind of cabinet in a sterile-looking room filled with pipes and monitors.

‘I can’t make sense of any of this,’ said Saul. ‘What is it supposed to be?’

Narendra regarded him with sad eyes. ‘You cannot explain it?’

‘It can’t be real.’ But how, then, to explain that image of Farad Maalouf peering out of his helmet, surrounded by that impossible landscape?

‘That is Eren’s assumption,’ said Narendra. ‘He thinks Farad somehow invented all of this. But this does not explain why someone in the ASI wanted him dead, nor, presumably, why they wanted Jeff Cairns dead as well.’

Saul shook his head and turned back to the TriView, thinking he couldn’t possibly experience any greater shocks than he had already received. But what came next was like the final coup de grâce in a particularly one-sided boxing match.

He again found himself looking at what he had at first assumed to be a bridge, but which now appeared to be a parapet connecting the monumental structure he had seen earlier to other, identical edifices. Something about them made him think of a cemetery – or, perhaps, a mausoleum. The video had been filmed from the point of view of someone pushing a heavy steel box, mounted on balloon-type wheels, with serial numbers stamped along its side.

Saul recognized it immediately as the hijacked shipment Hanover’s squad had been sent to track down.

The suited figure trundling the box came to a halt, whereupon a second figure, which had been walking just ahead, stopped and turned to look back. Saul recognized Jeff’s face looking out through the visor, an expression of worried concern on his face as he spoke. This time, however, there was no sound, suggesting he must be communicating over a private link.

‘I have studied these video fragments very carefully,’ explained Narendra. ‘Particularly the ones that were most recently uploaded into the database. There are ways to determine if those images are real or not – certain signs of artifice that cannot be avoided. Yet I have found no such evidence.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ Saul replied stubbornly. ‘You’re trying to tell me this is all real?’

‘You’ve seen those same things on the news feeds. There are hundreds of hours of these recordings, much of it showing what appears to be a ruined and lifeless Earth – lifeless, that is, apart from the growths. Eren may be happy to deny the evidence of his eyes, but I cannot. These are things that have not happened yet – but obviously will .’

Something occurred to Saul. ‘You said Farad died somewhere near here. Did you recover his contacts?’

‘Yes.’ Narendra nodded warily. ‘Why? Because you think they might have recorded the face of his killer?’

Assassination had become a much harder business once UP-enabled contacts had become a mainstream form of communication, since they were capable of recording their wearer’s last moments. ‘That crossed my mind, yes,’ said Saul. ‘If the ASI were really behind the hit, they’d have made recovering the victim’s contacts a priority.’

‘You’re assuming Farad’s killer came face to face with him,’ Narendra pointed out. ‘Or that the killer hadn’t disguised himself in some way.’

‘That’s why Eren thinks I’m here, isn’t it?’ Saul muttered. ‘He thinks I was sent to recover the files Farad stole.’

Narendra’s expression told him he’d guessed right. ‘We guarded Farad very carefully on his return,’ said Narendra, ‘but he was killed despite our best attempts.’

‘So do you know who did it?’

Narendra turned back to the TriView projection and skipped through a series of menus. After a couple of seconds, Saul recognized the streets of Sophia, from the viewpoint, again, of someone wearing contacts.

‘You are witnessing the last minutes of my brother’s life,’ Narendra explained, his expression sour.

From the way the view shifted around, it was clear that Maalouf was casting darting glances all around. He was accompanied by three grim-faced men, Eren amongst them, and it was late at night. The giant struts supporting the city’s canopy curved overhead like white bones. The four men crossed a street quickly, all of them shooting glances here and there, as if they were being hunted.