Log 1 Matter | Antimatter (6 page)

By the time Jamie reached Xoria Prime, eight
hours later and the next continent over, he exited the ranger,
yawned, and slipped into the busy space port bathroom, having
followed two monks into the toilets. He leaned over the top of a
stall and sprayed a concoction they’d been taught how to make. He
repeated the action in the other stall. He exited a monk from the
southern continent. He was allowed to keep his hood up on his beige
robe, and joined in the line of monks. They had taken a vow of
silence. He ambled behind as, one by one, they stepped through to
Talaria. He triggered his mimic DNA module connecting to the person
in front. It lasted only five minutes. He hoped that while in HaV
it wouldn’t interfere with his exit. He was scanned and waved
through by a bored looking guard. Terrible security despite attacks
being rare and evidently they didn’t have a body count to tell them
they were one short. Stepping through, he suffered the trip of nine
hours before stepping out onto Talaria, saw the monks pulling out
bags and puking, so he did the same, feeling much better for the
purge. He stood with the other monks for a moment before they
ambled off in the rain. Jamie checked the time. He’d arrived in
what could only be described as a ridiculous early morning.

They entered a forest to head to their
village that Jamie found during his research but he speared off and
dumped the robe, hanging it on a tree branch. Now it was hard and
fast. He ran through the forest and to the city. His tracker would
be telling the controllers he was now heading toward the northern
part of Talaria. The forest soon became farmland, which soon became
outer suburbs. He jumped on public transport and tried to slow his
breathing. Finding an empty seat, he wiped the sweat off his face
as he travelled to the city central. Talaria was a tall city with
narrow buildings and spires. He sat near the front watching the
housing, mostly with gardens, give way to tighter packed homes and
then gradually they became two storied then three, and four and so
on. City planners designed the entire city and suburbs to look like
an ascending spire, it was impressive.

Jamie watched as the street appeared to just
end, right before a park, but it dipped into one of the hundreds of
tunnels underground. There was a world under the city where all
vehicles drove and parked. The bus stopped and started until it
reached the main terminal and he stepped out, surprised to find the
air quite clean and fresh in the tunnel. The hum of the air
processors actually dampened the noise of the vehicles. Around him
people walked to and fro, many walking to the escalators or steps
that led to the paths above. He strode up the nearest steps,
stopped to check for directions, and then headed into a large
camping and outdoor store. He purchased a breathing unit and tunnel
tracker. He grabbed a takeaway meal, and headed back down the
tunnels to find the public transport that led to the main ocean
while he munched on his salad roll. What he really wanted to do was
take a nap.

By the time he sat on a transport vehicle he
identified a tail he needed to get rid of. When his handler decided
he had it too easy he would run interference. An operative could
accept it and deal with it, or move to intercept, or run away.
Since it was a test, he chose to run away. He’d already proven his
combat, covert, and mission skills. This was about identifying
enemies along the way and making decisions. He added to his list:
“One female, approx. 26, red hair, blue dress with little red love
hearts, three shopping bags, ‘Macquary Camping Supplies’ Talaria
City Central”. Since he made her it meant she was “dead”, there’d
be a replacement but the time factor was critical to his type of
movement.

As they neared the exits to the outside
world, he checked his bearings and once they hit the coast he got
off and headed for a store selling canoes and other water vessels.
Using the last of his money, he bought a wetsuit, hat, and
waterproof bag; he stole some flippers and dragged his sea kayak
with closed deck out, ignoring several warnings of a storm
approaching. He packed his kayak and closed the hatch on the deck,
launching into the choppy ocean. Immediately, he paddled out,
pausing to seal himself into the kayak with the spray squirt so any
water drained away. After a good half day of paddling, he hit the
first island. The storm cell had eased but renewed by morning.
Jamie stood on the sandy shores of the small island, thinking.

The wind was escalating.

He could sit it out or continue.

Deciding to continue, he dragged his kayak
around the sandy beaches to the west side and stared at his next
island. It was a few hours away, and the water was already choppy.
He checked his belongings and continued. Jamie kept his eyes on the
island ahead, keeping to a rhythm, and tried to ignore the mass of
cloud building to his left. Halfway across he ran into trouble,
having heard the wind and rain well before it hit him.

“It” was a severe squall.

Clouds were heavy, dark and low, racing
overhead. Thunder rumbled and filled him with adrenalin. Rain began
to fall heavily. Wind speed increased, buffered him mercilessly,
and he now had to fight the surface current. He kept paddling until
a gust of wind threatened to capsize him. He angled his blade,
leaned forward, positioned his blade to strike the water, flicked
his hips, and leaned back, and rolled. He began paddling again and
had to perform the roll action a few times until the wind died
suddenly, and the rain began in earnest. He had to make a choice;
blink the water from his eyes or stop paddling for a moment. Let’s
see. Very close to the island so blink it was.

When he felt the grind of sand beneath he
could barely summon the energy to lift his arms but he had to get
out and find shelter. It was getting dark already on a planet that
had long days especially in this warmer season. Just his luck it
was unnaturally stormy. He unclipped the skirt and climbed out,
dragging the kayak behind him by leaning forward into the wind. He
made it to the palms that were reaching towards him and found it
less turbulent amongst an outcropping of boulders he stumbled upon,
knee first. After doubling over and screaming profanities, he
groped wildly in front of him, hit rock again, and forced himself
slowly forward until he was clear of the worst weather. He dug in,
just managing to form a shelter of sorts over his head, before he
was finally able to rummage through his things. He checked all the
bags were intact and, with a little difficulty, checked the
contents were dry. He drank one container of water ignoring his
heavy, trembling limbs and aching knee. That night he indulged in
two food rations, a nut bar, and painkillers.

For all his good intentions to remain awake
and keep watch, Jamie fell asleep to the sounds of rain hitting his
tarp, a rather useful item he found deep inside the kayak, and wind
lashing the trees. The next thing he knew he was blinking his eyes
open to the glorious day. He remained still pretending for just one
moment his muscles weren’t going to scream at him, his knee wasn’t
going to grieve him, and he was going to spend the whole day
sunning himself. Just one more moment. “Right, enough of that
shit.”

Sure enough, fatigue and muscle soreness in
his arms made him grunt and snarl with the effort to get moving.
Jamie limped out over the drying sand and set off to the next
island, just a speck on the horizon. As his muscles warmed with the
gentle paddling motion they became less painful, but he ate a
special protein bar as he glided through the dark waters to speed
recovery. An injection filled with painkiller inserted directly
into his knee helped too, once he stopped yelling. “Sorry, mates.”
He had startled some low flying seabirds. “Time to get out my
breather anyway.” He undid the skirt, pulled up the equipment and
placed it on his lap and decided last moment to re-seal the skirt.
The way was clearer with patchy clouds but caution was better. He
paddled to a set of coordinates, spotted a low flying craft and
prepared to roll. After he positioned himself, he leaned back and
rolled. Jamie unsealed the skirt and pulled out his bags all the
while staying under the kayak. He plucked the breathing device
suspended close by and positioned it over his face. The base of the
kayak was camouflage, taking on the color of water around it, so
the label boasted. With his bag in tow, and flippers now secured on
his feet, he swam down.

As he reached the limits of his breathing
apparatus, he spotted the hatch. He scissored his legs faster, saw
the tube was lit orange, pressed down on the GELpad telling anyone
else someone was coming through, and spun open the hatch. Flippers
first, he moved slowly into the tube, closed the hatch and
activated the “Drain and Pressurize” function. As the water
drained, he slowly descended deeper into the tube. He allowed his
body to relax until his feet hit the bottom. There was a panel a
head size lower than his eyes. The light went blue and he took off
his flippers and spun the hatch on the other side of the panel. A
waft of filtered air refreshed him. He pushed his things through to
the small room and closed the hatch behind him. The safety
instructions included advice to refill the ocean to tunnel tube as
it was more likely someone needed to enter in an emergency from
that side.

He’d been counting on the last person to have
followed said instructions since blue really wasn’t his color.
Jamie repaid the favor and peeled off his wetsuit, leaving it and
the flippers in the small room. He left a note and almost wrote
“Please return to owner” but he wrote “Please use”. Slinging his
bag over his shoulder, having pulled out his tunnel tracker first,
he headed for the main tunnel. An hour later, he arrived at a
terminal and he jumped on an almost empty transport. It looked like
a white capsule sitting on a single rail. He scanned the occupants
but couldn’t identify any operatives.

Jamie travelled via several capsules but
exited before the main terminal. He ran down a maintenance tunnel
the rest of the way. The stops were mostly at junctions with small
food and drink shops. He’d read the larger junctions were tourist
stops so he bought a T-shirt that had printed in bright red, “I
stopped at the Deepest Junction.”

In little time he reached his destination,
delivered his package, dry and apparently in working order, and was
allocated a transportal time to return to the secret base he
considered home.

His handler, wearing his new T-shirt, and the
panel looked at his hand notes, and Jamie realized his mistakes.
He’d given too much information because they were grilling him over
and over about tiny details.

On and on it went.

Since Jamie was overtired with his internal
voice picking his mission to pieces—with, “You sucked,” being the
main theme along with, “Why did I do that?” and, “I should have
done that,”—he watched a movie on a wall screen in his cell,
cracked his knuckles and ate popcorn.

His handler cracked open the door. “Good
job.” He glanced around and laughed quietly. “So, you discovered
the cell’s secrets.” Next, he tossed the pen and pad on the bed. “I
liked the smiley faces by the way.”

Jamie shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if it was a
test so I scribbled pics and kept the info in my head. I just made
sure I was thinking that I was writing in case I was being
monitored.”

With enigmatic smile his handler left.

Jamie grinned, leaned over slightly, and
locked the door. The cell had many hidden amenities that he had fun
finding over the years, while some in the opulent rooms complained
of strange, annoying noises and smells.

A few days later, Jamie finished his morning
run and slowed to a jog on the closest run track to his dorm when
another jogger ran over and matched pace.

“You’re wanted, Jamie, home room, twenty
minutes.”

He glanced at the male. “Thanks.”

Jamie jogged back to his rooms and showered.
This should be make or break time. The water ran over his skin,
washing away sweat and tension. He dried and dressed in standard
clothes—dark blue pants and white shirt. His shoes made little
noise as he headed over to the home room in the main complex. He
walked down the corridor, knocked at the door and a softly spoken
recruit asked him to wait in a smaller room. While he waited he
picked up an AM mag with “Fusion Warfare” splashed in red over the
front cover. He’d taken several courses in hybrid wars and several
sub courses that covered strategies and tactics. In fusion warfare
the lines blurred between war, politics, combatants, and civilians.
In Jamie’s mind every time decentralization stretched to a certain
point the old ways would snap back like a rubber band into their
original form. It needed just that little bit more to break the
cycle or form to become something really new. Several minutes
later, an inner door was opened and his handler invited him in.
Jamie walked in and sat, hearing the door click behind him.

“Jamie, thank you for coming.”

For a moment the thudding of his heart and
labored breathing drowned out everything else but he forced himself
to calm down and relax. This wouldn’t be the end of the world, just
the end of fun.

A few laughed and he realized he’d broadcast
that.

As he flushed slightly, his handler grinned
at him. “Relax, Jamie. You’ve passed.” He walked over, touched his
face, which shifted into a new shape, and held out his hand. “I’m
Simon by the way. I was going to say welcome to the Aryan Military
Black Ops Division but I think welcome to the fun may be more
appropriate.”

Jamie breathed out, took Simon’s freckled
hand gratefully, and let out a laugh. Simon was a warlord, no
wonder he had to use the face shifting tech. The ceremony was
quiet, only him, Simon and several officials. His eyes widened when
his father walked in, pride glowing on his face.