Thornfalcon (The ARC Legacy Book 1) Read online

  What would you do, Sammy?

  Across the room Nina stared at her.

  “Look. This guy, who is he?”

  “His name's John Myhill,” her mother provided.

  “This Myhill, if he is with them, this is planned. Look at what you have and focus on that. You have power. You have communications. Start there. Do you have redundancies for the satellite?”

  “We do,” Eva confirmed. “Isolate those routines and work on getting them in action. Maybe if that small piece fits in place it'll be easier going for the rest. One problem at a time.”

  “Already on it,” Swanson replied as the rest of the Council moved into action with a purpose. A flow of section heads scurried in and out of the room.

  “That was good going, kid,” Charlotte Benson approved. “You might be of some use yet.”

  “Panicking helps nobody,” Samantha replied.

  A few minutes later a pale-skinned, frightened looking woman in a white lab coat stepped in and announced, “This signal, it's everywhere.”

  “Everywhere?” Swanson sounded incredulous.

  The lab woman held up a portable television. The same picture was on the screen. “Yes sir.”

  The music changed, becoming a stronger fanfare.

  “Welcome to the grand debut of the New World Order,” Thorsten Guyomard wryly commented.

  Those in the room stopped as the Aeon Fall logo began to glow, first yellow, then white.

  “How dramatic,” Samantha said.

  “Come on, people,” urged Swanson. “This is gonna happen unless we prevent it.”

  Spurred back into action by their new leader, everybody resumed their frenetic pace, running in and out of the room as ideas took root and became actions.

  All the while the screen became more animated, images of religious significance, grails, angels, passed across the screen around the Aeon Fall logo.

  And then it disappeared, fading to reveal a group of people. In the center stood a now-suited Porter Rockwell dressed in black surrounded by a group of equally dour, black-clad comrades.

  “Now we see what card we've been dealt,” Swanson muttered. Eva joined him, Nina coming to stand beside her sister.

  A man with short-cropped, dark hair took a step forward. Hands folded in front of him, he smiled at the screen.

  The smile sent a shiver down Samantha's back.

  “My name is Tommy Baxter. I speak for Aeon Fall. You will have heard of our organisation by now. We're here today to call humanity to account. For you are alone. Your God is dead. We have watched over mankind for the past twenty years while you have, unknowingly or otherwise, suffered one of many fates.”

  Baxter took a couple of steps toward the screen and it divided. Behind him, several people were revealed.

  “There he is,” her mother said, pointing. “The sonofabitch. There was nothing to indicate this.”

  “Someone knew,” Swanson accused. “Someone recruited him.”

  The person identified as Myhill seemed nothing special to Samantha. Aside from the fanatic eyes shared by everybody on the screen, he was unassuming, a young man balding early with a cocky expression. She had seen dozens like him.

  On screen, Baxter turned toward the center, holding out his hand. A picture appeared of people walking through a busy city centre. “The first of you get on with life, a practical approach. You weren't religious to begin with, not recognising a higher power. Despite all of the demon incursions that clearly proved there was something more.”

  The right-hand screen flicked to people praying. At pews in church, lined in rows inside mosques, individuals grasping rosaries in St Peters square, outside the papal residence in Vatican City. The imagery went on and on. “The second group of you carry on believing. The core knot of you that believe in a higher power. Your enlightened level of understanding means you will never give up, stubbornly hanging onto broken dogma. Your God is dead.”

  The picture faded, replaced by shots of a running street battle. Masked combatants went toe-to-toe with armed forces, casualties dropping in sprays of blood on both sides. In a doorway behind the violence, a small girl sat on the step cradling a toy dog. Blood dripped down her face and onto the toy as she stared blankly from behind the mental buffer of her trauma.

  “The third of you have given up in the most glorious of ways, and descended to the joys of base instinct: wrath, pride, lust, and envy. You are the new minions of Hell in human form. Bereft of hope, ignorant of your future, you lash out. Commendable, if fatalistic. The final group embrace the teachings of a new church. Science. Technology. You have forsaken religion because it offers you nothing.”

  The screen blurred to show Hunters Ridge as the sky sling took off, the twin jets powering the cradled rocket into low orbit. Now Samantha watched the technological marvel she had tried so hard to avoid.

  “This can't be good,” Swanson said. He turned to a small group nearby. “Have you worked out what Myhill did to this facility?”

  “I'm sorry Director,” said one, “the systems have been encrypted. It operates like a virus, but there is an unusual arm to it, something we have never encountered before. It's taking our very best just to keep up with the code. Every time we find a potential means of access, the encryption slams down on us like we were base-level programmers. For the moment, they have total control over us.”

  Swanson frowned. “Over what, exactly?”

  “This facility and through it, the global ARC network. Director, they could spill every secret ARC has filed away should they so choose.”

  As if watching them from on screen, Tommy Baxter said, “Yes, Director Swanson Guyomard and your vaunted ARC Council, now you know what it is to truly lose control. No more will you be the chalice of technological superiority, hidden behind benevolence and scientific progress. To those of you around the globe, a small lesson about the recent history of our world. We were not alone. Not always. The world had purpose, direction. This woman ended that hope. Eva Scott—the Devil's whore.”

  Eva put her hand to her mouth as footage flashed up on the screen showing her on a mountain.

  Samantha had never seen it before. Her mother was strung up on a platform as a tall figure cloaked in black carved at her arm with a knife not unlike that which Samantha had used to raise her father. Behind them an angry red portal swirled.

  “How?” Eva whispered.

  “They have it all now,” Swanson said, his voice barely suppressing his frustration.

  “Who is that?” Samantha asked.

  “Iuvart,” Eva replied. “A demon Prince. He masqueraded as my boss at Worcester State Hospital. You, of all people, would understand such beings are real.”

  Baxter continued, “What Eva and those like her don't want you to know is that they are responsible for closing the path to the divine. This happened.”

  Images of demons rampaging across a desert in battle with countless armed forces followed.

  “This happened. The voice you all heard in the night sky was this man. Madden Scott.”

  An image filled the screen of a good-looking man with stubble and a brown ponytail, a cheeky grin on his face.

  “He is for all intents and purposes, the Devil. This man walked into Hell, and killed God by doing so. The purpose has been taken from humanity, and you don't know why. Aeon Fall is here to explain why. Your technological saviour, calling themselves Angels of the Knight's Resurrection, seek a way into Hell, to open the gate permanently. They've had a glimpse of Pandora's Box and they want a taste of more. The satellite they launched moments ago is not a global defence mechanism as they have claimed. It is designed to open a portal to Hell. Your saviours want their King back. Your only hope lies with us. Death is waiting for you. By their means, or ours. To the governments of this world, you can still stop them. To the directors of this organisation, I issue this declaration. Shut your satellite down. Allow it to fall from the sky, and we will do nothing. Persist with your efforts to ruin this world and…” Baxter s
miled. “Well, there are many facilities in this world that, if not properly maintained, could spread a lot of damage to a great many people. It would all be on your head.”

  All images disappeared, the screen focussing on Tommy Baxter and those around him. “Heaven has forsaken you. There's no respite. Except us. You put your salvation, or your decimation in Aeon Fall. Expect the sky to light up with the answer of those that would rule in silence.”

  The screen went black, except for a web address.

  “Really?” Swanson scoffed. “Aeon Fall dot com? A website?”

  “It's all rather clever,” Jeanette Gibson said, one ear pressed into a cell that clearly wasn't working despite repeated attempts at speed dial. “It gets the common man thinking, especially if we have no way to answer.”

  “Having fun?” Porter Rockwell's voice echoed around the room. The screen flicked on. He gazed at them, his piercing eyes causing more than one person to look away.

  Samantha met that gaze, whether he could see her or not.

  “You would really hold the world to ransom like that? I can give you our answer right now if it will save lives.”

  “Oh it won't,” Rockwell purred. “There are no lives to save.” John Myhill was shoved trembling into view. Rockwell grabbed him by his shoulder. “This one has nothing left to tell us, Eva. He was most cooperative. I want you to remember this moment for the rest of your lives, as short as they'll be. The moment ARC was rendered helpless, beginning with this.”

  Rockwell lunged, his fist erupting through Myhill's chest. Blood shot everywhere.

  Samantha and her mother gasped as one. Others screamed.

  Rockwell let the body slide out of view. “In five days, and for every five days after, we shall disable a nuclear facility. You will watch your world burn. When there's been enough damage, enough chaos, then the world will look to Aeon Fall for survival. They will rip you apart.”

  “But if you don't care about the answer—” Swanson's comment was cut short as a siren began to wail. Red lights flashed on a panel beside the monitor.

  “Someone's activated the satellite,” Gila gasped.

  “To do what?” Samantha asked, worried.

  On the screen, Porter Rockwell smiled.

  Chapter Six

  Whatever its purpose, ARC's jewel had come into being, and not by their design.

  “Control room. Now.” Swanson's order was followed by a rush of bodies as two thirds of the room's occupants exited.

  Samantha remained where she was, staring back at Porter Rockwell, transfixed.

  “It won't take long,” Rockwell said from wherever he was hidden. “You will all see what has been wrought in the name of humanity.”

  A thought struck Samantha. She waved in front of the camera that pointed into the room. Rockwell didn't notice.

  Nina had remained with her and gave her a quizzical look.

  “Maybe it's a good thing,” Samantha said aloud. The room had cooled somewhat with nearly everybody now gone. She wrapped her arms across her body to try and ward off the suddenly efficient aircon.

  Rockwell tilted his head, his eyes making no sign of conscious movement. “Quick but not pleasant.”

  Samantha pointed at her eyes and shook her head.

  He can't see? Nina's thought invaded her mind. That's very perceptive of you. If that's the case, we have an advantage.

  “Clever, making it look like ARC's response to your threat is to plough on, regardless,” Samantha said loud enough for Rockwell to hear. “Now we're the bad guys and you're the saviour.” On a pad she scrawled the words 'signal in, no signal out' and showed it to Nina.

  “I'd not have it any other way,” Rockwell purred. “Let me tell you of an experience I would care to share with you. I took a trip with your mother once. We went to Hell.”

  “Well that's pretty blunt,” was Nina's wry comment.

  On a screen to the left of Rockwell, an image of a satellite appeared, what looked to be solar panels deploying.

  “Not long now,” Rockwell continued. “Hell was an awe-inspiring place, full of beauty, full of technology. There were majestic structures, spiralling towers dwarfing anything on Earth. I really didn't realise how insignificant we are until I saw it. I was cast asunder in that place, dragged from safety by Hell's minions, and presented to one of their captains, Leviathan. I was offered a choice: Serve, or suffer eternal damnation. Your father was a Hellbounce, an abomination in the eyes of Heaven and Hell. I was born anew on the plains of the Elysian Fields. I wandered there as souls floated down from the mortal plane soon attached to their own personal purgatory. I watched the sins of others as they were cleansed, touching spirit after spirit during their torment. Some were dirty, haggard, destined to remain forever. I beheld myself as one of them, the crimes committed while I was alive stacked up against me. After an eternity lost among others, he came to me.”

  Nina pointed at the door. Let's test your theory.

  Being careful not to make any sound, Samantha led the way from the conference room. She pushed the automatic door open while Nina fought to keep it from opening automatically with its tell-tale noise. They crept out. It made no difference.

  “Leviathan,” Rockwell's voice echoed down the hallways of the control centre. He was speaking to them all. “He told me my penance was to travel on—further than any soul has ever been. To the source, to the very nexus at the centre of the Elysium Fields, wherein dwelt The Judges. They are Hell's sentinels, through which all souls must pass on their way to heaven, to demon rebirth, or the great beyond.”

  “This is Swanson Guyomard,” a voice announced over the tannoy. Clearly they had regained control of that much. A message appeared on top of Rockwell's face. “All tech specialists to the situation room.”

  On a screen in the hallway, Rockwell continued talking. “…a choice. Hell had its chieftain once again. If a man sits on the throne of Hell, why cannot man take the place of the seat of Heaven? That's the judgment I decided upon: To deliver a message. Each man is asked to atone for his sins. We all face judgement.”

  Nina held Samantha to the side of the hallway, banging her ribs on the unyielding metal railing as several technicians in grey boiler suits dashed past.

  Samantha glared at her sister. “Thanks.”

  “Panels deployed, satellite powering up,” came Swanson's voice. “Everyone hold tight. We're going to cut the power to the facility.”

  “If they chose the lesser path their stay would be longer,” Rockwell continued, “more painful. Many would never make it to Heaven. It's the question you will all have to ask of yourselves in the coming days. When the gateway is opened, how honest are you? Will you take the hard road?”

  “Gateway?” Samantha stopped. “Do you understand what he means?”

  Nina shrugged. “No idea. Come on, let's get to the control room.”

  Samantha took only a few steps when a silence descended over the station. All internal lighting went off, Porter Rockwell's monologue disappearing as all screens went blank. They were two doors from the control room. Nina tugged at the closed door. Only the early twilight gave her any sense of perspective. She remained still.

  “Nothing.”

  Samantha shook her head. “What now?”

  “Wait for them to bring the power back up, if it ever returns. For all our luck, Myhill catered for this.”

  Nina pushed the door open across from them. The room was dark, with all the blinds drawn, with only one occupant, a woman with archaic looking hair swept back either side of her face. Her hairstyle made her head looked strangely like a stingray. The woman paced the room, which had a row of computers on a desk in the middle of the room, facing out.

  “Are you okay, Pamela?” Samantha asked, reading the nametag on the woman's lanyard. The stale reek of nervous sweat was strong in the room.

  “I don't know,” the woman replied, clearly agitated as she stared down at the floor. “I need to check with my supervisor.” She continued to pace; th
e creeping movements made her look strangely gangrel.

  Not a lot of thought in there… Nina nodded toward the woman.

  A red glow burst from beyond the blinds. Samantha rushed across, pulling them back. “What the Hell?”

  An intense beam shot across the sky from horizon to horizon, staining the clouds red. Pamela rushed to the blinds, pulling them shut. “Too much glare.”

  Samantha pulled the cord from the woman's hand, pulling the blind back open. “You can live with it. Nina, what is this?”

  “The satellite was designed to tap into the energy they detected in Hell twenty years ago. It's been retro-engineered from the one piece of tech mom brought back with her. Everything uses that same energy. Soul energy.”

  Samantha waved at the window. “That? That's a detector? It looks more like a weapon firing.”

  Behind them, the woman Pamela shrunk to the floor in the glow of the nearly completely red sky. “Too … much … glare.”

  The lights began to glow, slowly and agonisingly returning to normal.

  “Okay, time to move,” Samantha decided.

  “And her?” Nina asked.

  “Leave her. There's more at risk here than one madwoman.”

  “You're all heart, you.”

  Samantha turned in the doorway. “Sis, I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

  In the hallway, the Rockwell monotone continued. “Does it all work now? Are you restored? You need to understand, none make it to heaven. Not anymore. The gates are shut. The blinds are drawn no matter how much you try to open them. Rewards and punishment: Both are false idols, to be sought after, but never attained. You mankind, are alone. Put your faith now in Aeon Fall, not in those that promised eternal glory with one hand, only to deny it with the other.”

  “Can someone please shut him up?” Swanson demanded as the sisters pushed into the back of the control room. It was crowded with countless ARC operatives gathered beneath three large screens. On them were displayed a schematic of the satellite, another of the earth, and on the third, real time footage of the red sky.

  “I watched as souls were reborn. When my turn came, I was bidden to embrace my sin rather than atone. I would not forget my purpose, or my indiscretions…”