Guardians of Eden (6 page)

Owyn and Miller had never seen eye to eye. Miller had no remorse. No compassion. He was as cold and empty as a person could be. Even through the famine and the war Owyn never knew anyone like him. He would torture civilians just to leave a mark. He didn’t care whether or not they were guilty or if they had any information to give. All that he wanted to do was instil fear, even if he had to wield the knife himself.

Shaw never had any issue with him. They always got along, as did the rest of the team. Owyn was the only one who ever stood against the Captain. The others followed him blindly, and always took his side when Owyn raised his voice. All that mattered to them was survival. As long as they had food and shelter for themselves and their families they didn’t care what they had to do. Whether it was murder, torture – it didn’t matter.

They were the kind of soldiers that XION appreciated. Soldiers who were willing to do whatever necessary – in return for survival. That bargain never applied to Owyn. As Ambrose had said, survival wasn’t a problem for him. He wasn’t bound to XION like everyone else, yet he stayed, keeping faith that it would all be for good in the end. Perhaps, he wondered, he ought to have joined the other side. Perhaps that was where he belonged.

The following weeks were just as gruelling as Owyn had expected. Miller barely allowed the team an hour of rest. Every second they spent away from the field he either had them locked in training or poring over their previous performances, scrutinising the tiniest errors in their every action.

On the positive side – at least for the time being – he appeared to be keeping to the code. All assignments were undertaken just as they would have been under Ambrose, and collateral damage was kept to a minimum. Owyn wasn’t going to be so quickly convinced, but perhaps he had changed after all.

Still, Owyn himself kept a low profile. He didn’t feel too much better about it all yet. Following their first encounter Miller had an eye peering over his shoulder at every turn meaning he was better off playing it safe. Shaw, on the other hand, could hardly wipe the smirk off his face. Now under the safe protection of the squad leader he persistently tested Owyn’s temper, and though he wished desperately to be able to fight back, it was out of the question. Miller heard everything. He had the team under constant watch at HQ and kept comms open at all times during missions. A single word out of line – especially after Owyn’s outburst – and he’d have taken pleasure in exacting punishment. It was Sully, however, who was hit the hardest.

With the team so heavily policed, he and Owyn hardly exchanged a word aside from barking instructions at one another on the field. He spent more and more of his time hidden away in his quarters, to the point that the others at HQ grew suspicious of his persistent absence. Sully was the kind of person who needed stability, and if he was taken away from his teammates he wasn’t going to get that. Owyn realised pretty early on that their partnership played a large part in keeping him upbeat, yet now they were far too often separated.

As for O’Brien, he hadn’t a clue how she’d taken it all. She just coped and carried on as always.

Everything that happened in the Tajari had been quickly forgotten – confined to the archives like anything else. With the mission having been kept classified, O’Brien, Shaw and Sully were the only ones who knew a thing about it, but they didn’t make much of it. To them it had been nothing out of the ordinary; just another mission.

***

08:00, August 1, 2049 – ISO Orbital Station

Five weeks to the day after Miller’s arrival he called the team to Operations. Usually he preferred to keep briefings down to a simple handover of files. This would be the first time since Ambrose’ departure that all five members had collected together for mission prep. That gave just a suggestion that this wasn’t a run-of-the-mill assignment. That couldn’t bode well.

“We don’t have much time to spare so I’ll keep it short,” Miller said once the other four were gathered around the IC. He slotted a drive into the console, replacing the image of Altaris with the facial construction of a man.

He had slicked black hair with two streaks of white cutting from front to back on either side. His face was ridged with wrinkles, but otherwise he had no visible signs of age – a sure indication of wealth. He had a finely trimmed moustache which ran into a goatee that tipped his pointed jaw. Piercing blue eyes contrasted sharply against his bronzed skin.

“Javier Rodriguez is an independent weapons contractor for the DPD. He ran a private weapons production business in his native Spain before moving to the US and then Altaris.”

“
That guy
makes the DPD’s shit?” Shaw scoffed.

Miller ignored him and continued. “Our assignment is to gather information on Rodriguez. Recent reports have revealed inconsistencies in his figures. The DPD suspect he’s been trading with rebels. Our job is to verify those suspicions.” It sounded simple. That meant it wasn’t. “He keeps all of his data off network, the same as us. The only way we can be sure to get to it is directly through him. Sullivan.”

Sully hopped onto the console and brought up the bird’s eye view of a large estate. The central mansion was surrounded by a pentagon of five small, round towers, and outside the front gate a long gravel path cut through a huge area of vibrant green country gardens.

Miller allowed a moment for the team to scan the image then resumed his explanation. “Rodriguez’ estate is locked down and under constant high security. Our ticket is a high profile event organised by the DPD. Set to attend is Carl Chambers, a DPD official who has spent the past year working on a secretive weapons development programme. Unsurprisingly, he has garnered the attention of Mr Rodriguez.

Carter, you’ll be taking Chambers’ place. O’Brien will provide backup, playing the role of his wife, Eliza. Delta Squad will be running surveillance and Sergeant Anderson will also be inside, but extracting the information is your responsibility.”

“Do we know where we’re going to find this information?” O’Brien asked. “I’d assume Rodriguez’ guards aren’t going to give us much of a chance to look around.”

“With the server off-grid we haven’t got any way of tracing it from here,” Sully answered. “Once I’m there I’ll be able to scan the building.”

“Shaw and I will be joining security in order to gain clearance to the estate beforehand,” Miller followed on. “Once Sullivan has located the server room we’ll secure it for you to bring Rodriguez to us.”

“What about the security systems? What are we up against?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Once Delta Squad are inside I’ll use their comms to take control. You shouldn’t have any problems after that,” Sully explained.

Shaw was shaking his head. “It can’t be that easy. This guy’s in the business and he’s got secrets to hide. There’s no way in hell his system’s going to crack that easily.”

Sully rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’ve done my homework, Shaw,” he assured. “I thought the same as you at first. It almost seems too simple, but my information’s solid.” He made brief eye contact with Owyn who quickly broke it. Sully was suspicious, and Owyn knew it, but this wasn’t the time to discuss it.

“Are we all set?” Miller asked, not expecting nor wanting an answer. “Gear up and be ready for launch in ten.”

“You never said where this fancy ass estate is. Where are we headed?” Shaw asked.

“Kyvos.”

KYVOS

A visit to the capital was one of the rare occasions that the team got to experience a more luxurious means of travel. Among ISO’s vast collection of transport selections were vehicles made to mimic the public transport of each individual city – Kyvos transport was, of course, the grandest choice on offer.

Alpha and Delta squads made their way to the city via a
Mark VII Metropolitan Cruiser
(piloted by Sully) which was best described as a flying, luxury train complete with numerous bars, restaurants, and spas across two floors. An artificial gravity generator allowed the cruiser to tip almost entirely onto its side around tight corners without causing any disruption to passengers and its electric powered thrusters were purpose built to be silent and non-intrusive.

ISO’s variation lacked a few of those features – namely the bars, restaurants and spas – in favour of a full scale armoury and miniaturised Operations, but that was just a small detail. It also lacked the neck breaking speed of a jet, but that only allowed more opportunity to admire the spectacular setting.

After sweeping over mile upon mile of rolling hills and pinewood forest the ground fell away to white cliffs that rose from the shores of a vast lake of deep blue waters, glistening with Novus’ light. Crashing waterfalls spilled over them, hurling plumes of freshwater spray high into the air which pattered against the cruiser’s windows as it passed overhead. Mountains crested the horizon in all directions casting a basin around the lake, at the centre of which rose a solitary island.

From that island reached towering trees of gleaming white bark and flesh of stone. Bridges, with walls of glass and spines of steel were their branches, knitting together a forest of architectural marvel and beauty. Down the sides of the buildings ran veins of gold and blue that illuminated the forest like candles hung from the canopy, and tiny, glowing vessels darted between them like fireflies, dwarfed by the sheer scale of the wondrous metropolis.

Owyn’s eyes widened as the city came into view. He pressed up to the window eager for a better look. Even in daylight it gleamed as bright as a star. It was a sight greater than any sunset, and this time there wasn’t a chance he was going to miss any of it.

Kyvos was still young, having been completed and populated less than a year ago, although its construction had begun even before the first civilians arrived on Altaris. That meant it had taken around four years of constant work and development to complete. By comparison, New Tokyo had been a six month project as had the likes of Tahgos and Vin’Dar. Those cities were fit for purpose and still served the planetary blueprint, but Kyvos was something different entirely.

Conventional transport had been wiped out entirely. No roads existed in the capital. Travel was made either by air or using the city’s
LightLine
system, which used air pressure to drive pods at hundreds of miles per hour through sealed glass pipes which ran both under and over ground. Very little area of the surface remained uncovered, and so was rarely made use of. Instead the building tops acted like individual islands, each with a specific purpose, be it as a park, a restaurant square, a private estate or a university campus.

Sully brought the cruiser down into the city and fell into a busy lane of traffic. With buildings on either side it felt as though they were meandering their way through enormous glass-walled corridors. Every tower was so broad and so tall that it seemed never to end. The immense scale was comparable only to the tallest of mountains. However impossible it seemed, humanity had finally equalled the creations of nature herself.

Eventually they emerged from the corridors and into a clearing. The city centre was open and spacious with every single structure a piece of art in itself. The symmetry was impeccable. Everything was drawn with elegantly flowing lines, weaving patterns in stone with flawless perfection.

Lying at the heart was the tallest and most awe-inspiring piece of all; the infamous
Diamond Tower
, headquarters of the DPD. Its name came from its distinctive hexagonal structure, stacked tier upon tier into the sky, and its reflective, metallic skin which turned away the prying eyes of anyone looking to catch a glimpse of the internal affairs of the most powerful organisation on Altaris. While the city had only recently been completed the Diamond Tower had stood from the beginning, watching on as the capital formed all around it.

“They don’t like to keep a low profile, do they?” Owyn said as the menacing structure loomed large upon the horizon. He was stood pressed up to the window while Shaw and O’Brien were sat behind him brandishing their weapons. Miller, who usually never left them alone, was checking up on Delta Squad in another cabin.

“We’d be out of a job if they did,” O’Brien replied as she tested the sharpness of one of her knives on the carpet floor beside her.

“It definitely makes a statement,” Owyn admitted.

“That’s all the DPD are good for so it’s a damn good job it does,” Shaw huffed in his usual, cynical tone. “We only exist because they’re too incompetent to do their actual job.”

Owyn chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny, Carter?”

Owyn had hardly managed a smile since Miller’s arrival so given a moment of freedom he was going to make the most of it. “You never really do cheer up do you, Shaw? It seems like every time you open your mouth you’re just trying to make everyone else as miserable as you are.”

Shaw didn’t join in with the lightened mood and quickly climbed to his feet to face up to Owyn. “Will you ever figure out that not all of us have it as easy as you?”

“Leave it, Shaw,” O’Brien said in an attempt to stop the inevitable, but she lacked her usual assertion, not that even that would have been able to stop him this time.

Whatever had gotten into him, Shaw wasn’t about to hold anything back. This was as worked up as he’d ever been. “I watched the war tear my country apart. I watched everyone I ever knew die around me. Those memories have haunted me every fucking day since. You didn’t suffer like everyone else. That’s why you don’t understand. Miller was right, you didn’t belong there. You should never have had a gun in your hands. We knew what we were getting into. We knew what we’d have to do. You made it clear you didn’t, yet for God knows what fucking reason you stayed. All your righteous bullshit did was make it harder for the rest of us. That’s why Miller had to make it hard for you. If I was him I’d have put a bullet in your brain long before you ran off for ISO. He had every right to and I have no idea why he didn’t.”

Owyn was shell-shocked. For once he had no witty response; no sarcastic comeback. All he could do was stand in silence as Shaw bore down on him, more intimidating than ever before. Even O’Brien seemed too scared to intervene. This was beyond her powers.

A chime sounded to signal an announcement, prompting Shaw to back down after a final rueful shake of his head. Owyn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He lifted his hand and wiped away any trace of the tears that had been threatening to materialise.

“We’ll be coming in to land in thirty seconds,” Sully informed them through the cruiser’s surround sound speaker system. “Get ready to move out.”

Miller came through the door at the end of the cabin and tossed a bag each to Owyn and O’Brien. Owyn immediately opened the zip as an excuse to avoid eye contact with the Lieutenant. Inside was a grey dress-suit, neatly folded and topped with a blue striped tie and his mission file – on paper.

“You’ll need these too,” Miller said, handing each of them a small black box. “Digital contact lenses. Sullivan will use those to transmit information to you during the operation,” he explained. “If we’re going to pull this off you two are going to need to get yourselves into contact with Rodriguez quickly. Make sure he notices you, then let him initiate contact. We don’t want to rouse suspicions. Your covers are detailed in your files. Delta Squad will make contact when we’re ready to go live. Guests begin arriving at 1600. Don’t be late.”

“Yes sir,” Owyn and O’Brien answered simultaneously. Shaw then accompanied Miller out while O’Brien headed off headed off to prepare. Owyn waited until he was alone before slumping to the floor.

He couldn’t argue with anything Shaw had said. He was right – Owyn didn’t understand what it was like for him, Miller, O’Brien or anyone else who had fought in the war. Even now, thirteen years since he joined the army, Miller was right; he didn’t belong here. He probably belonged as an innocent citizen of Kyvos. They had all lived safely in protected states, away from the war – just like Owyn. They were all still blissfully unaware of the hell they had left behind, as he should have been. The truth, however, was that there was no way back from here. Not now. All he could do was carry on with the job. He lifted himself up, grabbed his bag and contact lenses and left the cabin.

After an extended and painful period of preparation and dressing, Owyn stepped outside and into the midst of a small rooftop park. A tall, sculpted stone fountain was surrounded by a garden of trees and flowers in full bloom, and local people were flocking to admire the rainbow of colours beneath the mid-afternoon sun. A selection of French styled cafés were dotted about giving the idyllic, calming atmosphere of pre-war Paris. Owyn wanted just to relax and enjoy it, but he just couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

He couldn’t recall ever having needed to dress like this before – given the state of things on Earth there was rarely an opportunity for fancy dress – and he was now beginning to wonder why anyone would want to.

He was buttoned up in a textured three-piece suit atop a crisp white cotton shirt, with a blue striped tie, brown leather belt and matching leather shoes. To call it uncomfortable would have been putting it far too lightly. His movement was horribly restricted, to the point where his arms and legs felt as though they were in desperate need of some oil. His waist and throat were squeezed so tightly that he could hardly tell if he was still breathing.

The shoes were even worse than the rest. Whoever thought it was a good idea to fit a foot inside a rigid, triangular-fronted shoe? He could already feel the build-up of sweat in his soles and his toes were already going numb from the constriction of the pointed fronts. He might only have been stood there a matter of seconds, but he was immediately wondering how long he was going to be forced to wait. Already he just wanted to get it all over with so he could be reunited with his combat suit.

Just when he was questioning his resolve he was finally put out of his misery as O’Brien stepped out of the cruiser behind him. He opened his mouth ready to express his self-pity but as he turned around his words stuck in his throat.

O’Brien was dressed in a long, emerald green gown with a wide black belt clamped tightly around her waist and a matching short, open jacket to cover her arms. Her hair had been let down and delicately curled so that it flowed elegantly over her shoulders, while her parting had been adjusted for perfect separation. Bold, dark eyeliner intensified the colour of her eyes which glistened like newly polished gems and subtle red gloss breathed new life into her lips.

Owyn was dumbstruck. He was hardly able to believe the transformation. In contrast, O’Brien was less impressed by his makeover. “You look ridiculous,” she said bluntly, specifically targeting his side swept hair, laced with so much gel that it glinted in the sunlight.

“You’re telling me,” he said, tugging at his tie to try to ease the pressure on his throat. “What’s even the point in this thing?”

O’Brien shook her head. “Don’t start whining at me, Carter. You won’t get any sympathy.”

“I’m not whining, relax. I was just asking a question – I can’t see why people carried on wearing this crap after modern clothes were invented.”

As she stepped down onto Owyn’s level he noticed his height rapidly diminishing. He usually stood an inch or two taller, but O’Brien was now towering high above him, making him feel a little more embarrassed to be stood beside her. “Are you sure you can walk on those?” he asked, his eyes widening at the huge pillars beneath her heels.

“I’ve managed before.”

“Really?” He was genuinely surprised, but O’Brien wasn’t about to let the conversation go any further.

“Let’s get moving. I’d rather not spend any longer standing around looking like this with men like you gawping at me.”

Owyn activated his comms. “We’re good to go, Sully.”

“Copy that. Moving on to the estate,” he responded.

Owyn pulled his comms device from his ear and dropped it back inside the ship. Going undercover meant radio silence – a welcome relief from Miller’s ear. “Let’s go,” he told O’Brien as the cruiser lifted off from the rooftop and disappeared back into the forest.

After dodging past a few inquisitive looks from passers by the pair arrived at the fountain, under which a staircase led them down to an elevator. Just a few seconds later they had dropped from floor 343 to 100 and reached the building’s LightLine station.

Despite being flooded with wave after wave of racing office workers and business people the station somehow managed not to feel at all crowded or hectic. Even as thousands of people converged on just a few dozen vacant pods there was barely any holdup and not a hint of conflict. It was clear evidence of civilisation working exactly as it had been designed, with precision and efficient fluidity.