9: Operative Of Chaos
The number of times the Council was gathering at this one Tower was growing all the time, which was unusual, for in the past they had never spent too long in one area. They’d never had to. But here they were, Gryal, Warren and Mordrin sitting around the table, Petti once again standing in the shadows. All were watching the panting Stark stepping into the room, one foot at a time, his hands using what he could reach of his thighs as support.
“I came...as fast as I could,” he managed to say between wheezes. “The Bridge Satellite...you requested...is now orbiting...the Rift. But...couldn’t you have...given me more notice...of this meeting?”
“No,” Gryal said, emotionlessly. “But this way, these three got a laugh.”
Looking perplexed, Stark took his place at the table. Losing interest in Stark, the company turned to Petti in the sidelines.
“Well, Petti, what news of Chaos?” Warren started the proceedings off.
“Nothing positive,” he snarled. “He’s masked his signal again. He found out how we were tracking him. Now he’s even deeper in the matrix of the Alpha Realm.”
Mordrin rolled his eyes, “Well that’s what you get for not catching him earlier.”
“I didn’t see you trying,” Gryal remarked.
“It was his job!”
“Never mind,” Warren put his hands to his eyes. “Gryal, what news of the boy?”
The skeleton made an attempt at smiling, “All good. Not only had he not joined with Chaos, but within the week, his time of course, he will be in Switzerland. There he will finally understand that our cause is the right one.”
“But what if Chaos was to try and make it so he didn’t see our way?” By this time Stark had regained his breath.
“We’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Warren answered. “I was planning to stand by at the airport and guard the Mancynn.”
“Then it’s settled,” Gryal said, moving the conversation on. “Any word from the ambassador?”
“I got reports that his assignment is almost complete,” Mordrin replied resentfully; he’d never liked their ‘ambassador’. “By the boy’s time, it should be coming into CERN around now.”
*
The Jura Mountains are a sub-Alpine range separating the Rhine and the Rhone, beyond which lies the town of Saint-Genis-Pouilly, and then Meyrin, the home of CERN (the world’s largest particle physics laboratory). It is behind these mountains that, above the valley-side of trees, the military-grade transport aircraft was coming in to land, low enough now as to not be seen on the other side of the mountains. Just below the peak of the mountain range, the plane began to circle, as the co-pilot began to hail ground control.
Gaius Callis kept his finger on his headset and waited for confirmation that their approach had been recognised. After a minute or so, the radio crackled into life.
“Roger, Oscar-Golf-Tango-Hotel, can you confirm cargo is secure in the hold?”
“This is Oscar-Golf-Tango-Hotel, we can confirm the cargo has made it from the pick up to here intact. Do we have clearance for landing?”
“Clearance granted. Please commence your descent.”
The large aeroplane completed its turning circle and began its descent towards the cliff side, where many artificial trees were tipping over as the ground was opening up, creating a massive hole, allowing the craft to disappear under the earth.
*
The day had come where Philip had been double-checking his bags, just before his mother checked them once more. They had left home at nine o’clock to get to his school and the waiting coach in time. Then, under the grey sky which threatened to rain, Philip had bid Beth goodbye and boarded his second vehicle, after registering, of course.
Now he was at Luton airport, like all the other students from his year who had opted to go on the science trip. The luggage had been checked in and the group was filing one by one through security, alongside everyone else.
It came to Philip’s turn to show his passport to the podgy man behind the glass. Philip couldn’t help but observe the reddish hue of the man’s skin, and the ends of masculine tattoos protruding from the neck of his shirt. As the man looked at him, returning the passport, he also saw the fiery light behind the eyes, and the pointy teeth in his mouth. Philip neither noticed nor cared.
*
Noah Mason felt he was in the clear. On the other hand, he was driving a bin lorry. His truck braked noisily and jerkily. Jumping out, Noah made his way to the wheelie bins standing on the driveways of the line of houses. The other bin man wouldn’t come out to help; he couldn’t in his unconscious state. Noah rolled the bins one by one to the truck, emptying their contents, until he came to one house in particular. At this one, he instead opened the bin and riffled through the rubbish. Here he found something which could be of use, at last. It appeared to be a letter, possibly knocked into the bin by accident. But what the letter said was more than he could have hoped for. He knew what to do. Looking at his watch, he saw there wasn’t much time left.
*
There was a tap on his shoulder.
“Yes?” Philip sighed.
Philip had no idea who this boy was at all. He was shorter than Philip, with a long flat nose and drooping, round eyes. All in all Philip thought the kid looked like an overgrown baby, as if his head hadn’t grown at the same rate as his body. His round cheeks shone and his small mouth was curved in an ignorant grin which added to the impression that the boy was one of the dimmest people Philip had ever met.
“Hi,” the boy bounced on the balls of his feet, “I’m Jimmy. Jimmy Authors.”
“I haven’t seen you before,” Philip pointed out slowly.
“Oh, I’m not in your year. My mum and teachers said they’d be happy for me to go,” Jimmy continued, “Want to sit next to each other on the plane?”
Philip stared at him, disparagingly, “Are you sure it wasn’t ‘they’d be happier if you went away’?” he said trying not to sound overly malicious.
Their gate was at that moment called. Dr Radcliffe, his science teacher, led the group in the right direction, before he could answer ‘Jimmy’, the other teachers trailing behind at the back. Down the corridor they went, down the stairs, and on to the tarmac. The shuttle bus was slow and bumpy, as expected. It was an average airport scenario.
The shuttle bus stopped, the driver opened the doors, mopping his crimson brow as he did so. The inside of the bus was muggy from the heat of their bodies. Philip had to push his way out through the door closest to the driver. This is why he noticed the driver’s overly large hands and arms, which stretched the uniform the staff were made to wear.
The plane was not too far from the shuttle, meaning the walk through the rain wasn’t very long. Not that the rain bothered Philip, he could remain dry if he wanted. Everyone else wanted to get out of the weather though, so the already slippery path was made worse by the shoving students. Luckily, no one fell over. Also, he’d lost Jimmy, which was a big bonus in his opinion. Jimmy was one of those people who you knew to avoid as soon as you became acquainted with them. At the stairway into the plane, the bundle of students was forced to disperse so they could actually move any further. At the base of the stairs was a man dressed in black. Not the black of the staff uniform, just black. As Philip passed, the man brushed his shoulder.
What happened next was over so fast, Philip almost missed it. The man raised his hand slightly. There was a flash of lightning in the rain. Everyone was falling to the ground, unconscious. Philip stared at the man, who looked back, meeting his gaze.
Before Philip could ask, the man answered, “You were keeping yourself dry, the shock wouldn’t jump to you.”
Philip glanced at his school party.
“They’re not dead,” the American said. “The shock wasn’t strong enough for that.”
“What do you want? Who are you?”
The man groaned, “For god’s sake, I don’t have time for this. They’re watching us. Don’t go on the trip just yet.”
Philip made a similar noise, not this again, “Why not this time?”
Running out of patience fast, the man’s eyes were constantly on the move, watching for any sign of them, “You can’t be on their side. To do so would be disastrous for everyone and everything.”
Philip stepped down onto the tarmac, “But why? I don’t understand what they want.”
“They want you to do their bidding and fulfil your duty as a Mancynn.”
“A what?” Philip stared, blankly.
“Never mind that now. They’ve been affecting your memories, so that you don’t remember anything that could turn you against them.”
“I think I would have noticed if my memory had been tampered with,” Philip snorted.
“How did we meet? Tell me, how did we meet?”
“We met just now,” Philip was more confused than worried about the events unfolding around him.
The man put his hand to his head, “No, that’s wrong. When did we first meet?”
“Just now,” he repeated.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the man grasped Philip’s head in his hands, “NO! My name is Noah Mason and when we met you tried to push me off the roof of a certain cathedral!”
Images were passing over Philip’s eyes, things he didn’t remember, but thought he should: massive stone walls covered in strange circular patterns; Gryal advancing on him in a pharmacist’s; a restaurant exploding; a man dressed in black tumbling over the barrier at the top of St. Paul’s.
He was unconscious.
“Damn it!” Noah cursed, catching Philip as he fell to the ground.
Philip’s head lolled back as Noah cradled him in his arms. He raised his hand to Philip’s forehead once more, and a small spark flickered between his fingers. Philip’s eyes shot open, alert and bulging, he took in a deep breath, filling his lungs to maximum capacity. He jerked awkwardly to look at Noah’s face.
“Listen to me,” Noah said as quickly, yet clearly, as possible, “They are trying to reset you, make you forget again. You have to hold on. Remember everything, if you want to be free of them.”
There was a pained expression growing on Philip’s dampening face. His eyes were closing again. Noah sent a shock through him, trying to keep him awake.
There was the sound of footsteps not that far behind them, a splashing in the puddles. Noah turned slowly, protecting Philip with the bulk of his body. There was the shuttle bus’ driver, as red as ever, the only other person not to have been knocked out. That is, if he was a person. For the form of the driver was beginning to change, morphing into something bigger, more muscular.
“I see Gryal couldn’t be trusted with this job. Surprise surprise,” Noah called through the torrent of rain.
“And you, Chaos, are as devious as ever,” Warren called back, getting ever closer.
With one hand still on Philip, keeping him from the brink of sleep, Noah stretched his other arm around to point at the approaching Lord. A bolt of lightning, just like the first he’d shot a minute ago, flew from his fingers, most hitting Warren square in the chest. This did little other than to make Warren stop momentarily. Noah kept glancing back at Philip, making sure he was okay. It looked to him as if the boy was indeed regaining consciousness, and keeping his memory this time. Frantic, Noah let off three more lightning bolts in quick succession. Unfortunately, something seemed to be preventing him from doing any real damage.
“Philip, do you hear me?”
Philip made an indeterminate noise.
“Do you remember them exploiting you?”
Again, Philip groaned, looking around Noah to see Warren almost upon them.
“Will you join me in fighting them, Philip?” This was the most earnest question yet.
“Yes.”
Overjoyed, Noah turned to face Warren. He sent off one bolt, as massive as he could manage, and was surprised to see a second weaker bolt joining it. Philip was sitting up, his arm outstretched, using what little energy he had to mirror what the man was doing, what he had never done before, what seemed to come naturally to him. The double force blew Warren over. The Lord knew Philip was lost to them, and made a hasty retreat. His Hexagon had run out of power, anyway.
Noah looked down at Philip. His job was done. Philip was free. The agreement had been made.
The pair looked around at Philip’s unconscious party.
“Hasn’t the airport noticed they’re asleep?” Philip asked, worried.
“Not yet,” Noah said, standing up. “To interact with us Warren would have had to use a Hexagon. No time will have passed for anyone else.”
“All the terminology you lot use,” Philip sighed, also standing. “Am I going to have to carry around a dictionary?”
“Very funny,” Noah wasn’t looking at Philip, but smartening up his dark clothes.
All around, the teachers and students were getting to their feet, some slipping back over in the rain. Noah stepped forwards to help Dr Radcliffe stand up. Dr Radcliffe looked Noah in the face, confused.
“Who the devil are you?”
Noah put his hand to Radcliffe’s head, “Dr Radcliffe, do you not remember me? I’m your new assistant, Mr Mason. I’m starting at the school in the autumn, but you said I could come along and help on this trip.”
“Very well,” Dr Radcliffe nodded, if somewhat uncertainly. “What happened?”
“It appears everyone slipped over in the rain, sir.”
Satisfied with this, Dr Radcliffe ushered the party to continue into the plane, despite the majority being unsure as to what had just happened.
On the plane, Philip once again managed to avoid the boy Jimmy. The last of the passengers had sat down in their seats, and the pre-flight safety briefing was underway. Suddenly, the stewardess’ message was cut short by an unexpected knocking at the door. A steward opened the door cautiously to find the portable stairway back by the side of the plane, and an official-looking man standing just over the threshold. He was tall, and wearing a sharp suit, a glistening tie and an equally shiny badge. His hat was tucked under his arm. As he entered, the cabin crew stepped back. The man’s thin lips drew back, revealing stained teeth.
“Follow me,” Noah whispered in Philip’s ear.
“Why?” he hissed back.
“Don’t ask, just do.”
While the man was distracted by the pilot, who had come through into the cabin to see what was going on, Noah and Philip slowly got up and began making their way towards the back of the plane.
“Who is he?” Philip refused to stop asking questions.
“I think he’s one of them, Mordrin perhaps.”
“How many of them are there?”
“Five,” Noah hissed. “Now keep your head down.”
Once at the rear of the plane, the only place to go was the restroom. Squeezing in, Noah shut the door. Philip reached to lock the door, but Noah stopped him.
“Don’t. They can’t know we’re in here.”
“Why don’t we just teleport away, or even teleport to Switzerland?” Philip whispered.
“Entering transit leaves a residual energy signature which they can follow. That’s how they’ve managed to follow me all these years.”
“How long have they been following you?” Philip wondered aloud.
Noah breathed out, heavily, “You lose count after a while. I think it’s around sixty years now.”
“Sixty years!” Philip almost exclaimed, before lowering his voice again. “But you look no older than twenty-five, thirty at most.”
“It’s complicated. Now shush.”
Outside, in the cabin, the official-looking man, Mr Lucas Asher, was making his way down the plane, closely followed by one of the stewards.
“This is simply a routine check,” the man was saying to the steward. “It was seen from the airport that the whole of the party travelling on this flight collapsed for a second on the way here. I’m just making sure everyone is okay.”
The steward was nodding blindly, not looking directly at anyone around him, agreeing with anything his superior said. It was more than his job’s worth to argue.
As he passed, Mr Asher was asking random passengers how they were and other general questions to which he didn’t care for the answer...until he came to the pair of empty seats, the seats which belonged to Noah and Philip.
“I thought your captain said this flight was fully booked. Are these seats not taken?”
“Um...it...it would appear not,” the steward stuttered, wishing it could be someone else standing in his shoes.
“Hmm...” Mr Asher didn’t look impressed.
After that, the pair moved faster, asking fewer and fewer people how they were, Mr Asher apparently eager to reach the end of the plane. Scanning the faces of everyone before him, Mr Asher wasn’t finding what he was looking for.
They were out of seats. All the passengers had been checked, so the steward thought. Which is why he was confused as to why Mr Asher would want to check the restroom.
Noah had heard Mr Asher first, and warned Philip accordingly. The moment they’d heard the man at the door, the pair phased, so when Mr Asher opened the door, all he saw was your standard cramped restroom. His nostrils flared, his eyes took in every detail of the room, he gritted his teeth.
The steward never understood why his boss had slammed the door of the restroom and almost stormed out of the plane, though keeping enough self control as to exit with manners, confirming everything was in order and bidding the crew farewell. Neither did he ever again see his boss with such horrible teeth or skin.
In the restroom, Noah and Philip came back into phase.
“And why didn’t he sense that, if he would have sensed us entering transit?”
“Going out of phase emits less of an energy signature than entering transit. In this state, he couldn’t exactly use all the powers available to him.” All the while Noah was saying this, he was pushing Philip back to their seats, before the eyes of the confused cabin crew.
The stewardess smiled at them, almost as if to ask ‘Is everything okay?’, before finishing the safety briefing. The plane rolled along the runway, accelerated, and took off to the south.