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- Herausgeber: Orenda Books
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Serie: The Enceladons Trilogy
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Ava, Lennox and Heather make contact with alien Sandy and head for a profound confrontation … The awe-inspiring, exquisitely moving sequel to The Space Between Us, as seen on BBC Two's Between the Covers. `A barnstorming thriller … and a wonderful and radical sense of a greater, wider way of seeing life on our planet´ Martin MacInnes `Terrifyingly plausible and an excellent allegory for our times … I'll be recommending this to everyone´ James Oswald `A powerful and epic multi-layered story. Doug Johnstone is a true literary master´ Michael Wood _________________ Six months since the earth-shattering events of The Space Between Us, the revelatory hope of the aliens' visit has turned to dust and the creatures have disappeared into the water off Scotland's west coast. Teenager Lennox and grieving mother Heather are being held in New Broom, a makeshift US military base, the subject of experiments, alongside the Enceladons who have been captured by the authorities. Ava, who has given birth, is awaiting the jury verdict at her trial for the murder of her husband. And MI7 agent Oscar Fellowes, who has been sidelined by the US military, is beginning to think he might be on the wrong side of history. When alien Sandy makes contact, Lennox and Heather make a plan to escape with Ava. All three of them are heading for a profound confrontation between the worst of humanity and a possible brighter future, as the stakes get higher for the alien Enceladons and the entire human race… Sequel to the bestselling The Space Between Us, The Collapsing Wave is an exquisite, epic first-contact novel, laced with peril and populated by unforgettable characters, and the awe-inspiring book we all need right now… _________________ PRAISE FOR The Space Between Us **Selected for BBC 2 Between the Covers 2023** `A gateway book to sci-fi … I loved it´ Sara Cox `So readable and accessible´ Alan Davies `If you read one life-affirming book this year, make sure it's this one´ Nina Pottell, Prima `Prioritising pace, tension and high stakes … a plea for empathy, compassion and perspective´ Herald Scotland `An emotionally engaging read´ Guardian `Science fiction gains a new author´ Derek B. Miller `A delicious, demanding departure´ Val McDermid `As moving as it is magical and mysterious´ Mark Billingham `A first-contact tale full of heart and high-octane action´ D.V. Bishop `An adrenaline-filled ride of a novel, laced with empathy and understanding´ Rachelle Atalla `Pay attention, Steven Spielberg! This could be your next film´ Marnie Riches `Clever and unusual … I was on a journey with these characters, and completely transfixed´ Susi Holliday `A mesmerising tale of wonder and hope´ Marion Todd
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iSix months since the earth-shattering events of The Space Between Us, the revelatory hope of the aliens’ visit has turned to dust and the creatures have disappeared into the water off Scotland’s west coast.
Teenager Lennox and grieving mother Heather are being held in New Broom, a makeshift US military base, the subject of experiments, alongside the Enceladons, who have been captured by the authorities.
Ava, who has given birth, is awaiting the jury verdict at her trial for the murder of her husband. And MI7 agent Oscar Fellowes, who has been sidelined by the US military, is beginning to think he might be on the wrong side of history.
When alien Sandy makes contact, Lennox and Heather make a plan to escape with Ava. All three of them are heading for a profound confrontation between the worst of humanity and a possible brighter future, as the stakes get higher for the alien Enceladons and the entire human race…
Sequel to the bestselling The Space Between Us, The Collapsing Wave is an exquisite, epic first-contact novel, laced with peril and populated by unforgettable characters, and the awe-inspiring book we all need right now…
THE COLLAPSING WAVE
DOUG JOHNSTONE
vFor Tricia, Aidan and Ambervi
Contents
1
LENNOX
Lennox was sitting with the beaten-up acoustic guitar, trying to learn an old Tame Impala song, when the guard appeared at the doorway.
‘Time for your eleven o’clock,’ Turner said.
He wore his usual combat camos, tactical vest, chunky boots. M27 automatic rifle pointing at the floor. Blond buzzcut, all-American chin and cheekbones.
‘Where’s Mendoza?’ Lennox said.
‘Never mind, come on.’
Lennox put the guitar down and stood. ‘Mendoza would’ve knocked.’
He left the living room of the detention block, walked down the hall and out the door, Turner clumping behind him.
He started across the courtyard, taking in the extraordinary view of Loch Broom. Sweeping brown hills across the water, distant islands like knuckles in the loch mouth, steep mountains to the northwest watching over them. And in between, the vast expanse of water glittering like hammered tin in the autumn sun. He thought about Sandy and the other Enceladons in that expanse somewhere, his chest tight with longing.
This was New Broom, the makeshift military base and research centre built a few miles up the coast from Ullapool. The name was someone’s idea of a joke, new broom sweeping clean. It was designated American soil, according to Mendoza, not subject to British or international law. The UK government waved the US military in after the revelation of Enceladons coming to Earth and descending into the deep water off Ullapool. The British were 2technically involved in a support role, but there were precious few of them on the base. All the guards were American marines and most of the research staff were Ivy League careerists.
Lennox reached the door of the research centre. It was a similar building to the detention block, concrete walls, green corrugated roof, small windows. Lennox looked at the high fence surrounding the base, topped with razor wire, double thickness. As well as the detention block and research centre there was a command building, offices, barracks, stockade and a canteen for the guards. Lennox and Heather cooked for themselves in their own kitchen, and were free to walk around the base, but not to enter any other buildings. The two of them had been held here since it was built, kept imprisoned in the nuclear base at Faslane before that. No contact with the outside world.
Lennox wished for the millionth time that there was someone who would miss him, who would ask questions about him. But at least he and Heather had each other.
Turner opened the research-centre door with his keycard, and Lennox shuffled down the hall. Turner never spoke more than he had to. Lennox much preferred Mendoza, who talked about his wife and baby daughter in New Mexico, downloaded tunes onto an old iPod for Lennox, brought them chocolate. He’d even found that old guitar for Lennox, which he was thankful for.
In the large room at the end of the hall Dr Gibson was at his workstation, laptop and monitors, boxes of flashing lights, signal-processing units. A skull cap full of sensors and connectors. Gibson was clean-shaven, blond side parting, wearing slacks and a tight shirt showing his muscles. Stanford and MIT, dripping with privilege but no sense of wonder. To him, the Enceladons were just another move up the career ladder.
‘Prisoner Hunt,’ Turner said.
Gibson didn’t look up, typed on the keyboard, checked a monitor. He waved at the chair facing the huge water tank that filled half the 3room. The seat had wires running from it to the workstation, like a modern electric chair. Inside the water tank was a creature like a large octopus, but with only five tentacles. It was constrained within the tank in a copper mesh cage, the tips of its tentacles poking out. This was one of the handful of smaller Enceladons the military had captured in the last few months. Normal fishing didn’t work as the Enceladons emitted powerful electromagnetic waves to mess with the ship’s equipment and electrocute people when they were caught. Instead the soldiers had used some sort of Faraday cage which disabled the creatures’ EM powers.
Lennox knew all this from Oscar Fellowes, one of the Brits on the base. He was MI7, the first of the authorities to show an interest in the creatures from Saturn’s moon. He’d been there at the big descent, when they came down en masse and sank into the sea. But he’d been sidelined by the Americans, only allowed to do minimal comms trials.
Lennox watched the creature in the tank. No light display, just a dull, throbbing greyness. This wasn’t Sandy, the one he’d connected with before. Lennox, Heather and Ava had driven across Scotland at the start of all this, in order to protect Sandy from harm. Sandy disappeared into the water along with the rest of the Enceladons after the big descent, then Lennox, Heather and Ava were arrested. He wondered about Ava – she’d been kept separate from him and Heather, they hadn’t heard anything about her.
The Enceladons weren’t all alike – these octopus creatures were part of a much larger ecosystem, along with colossal jellyfish beings the size of small boats, all able to absorb each other’s bodies and communicate telepathically.
Occasionally, soldiers would get lucky and capture one of the smaller creatures. Some were killed and dissected, others handed over to Dr Gibson, to work out how they communicated. That was key, apparently, to finding out how and why they came here. Lennox knew the answer already – they were refugees fleeing some kind of 4climate crisis or invading violence in the under-ice oceans of Enceladus. But the military considered the aliens a threat, an excuse to torture and kill. They didn’t understand.
‘In the chair,’ Gibson said.
Turner nudged Lennox in the back and he sat. Gibson placed the skull cap on him. They’d shaved Lennox’s afro so that this worked better, and he hated them for it. He squirmed with the cap on, and Turner coughed and tapped his rifle to make a point.
Lennox stared at the Enceladon in the tank. They looked miserable. They couldn’t connect or communicate while in the cage, and for an Enceladon that was the same as dying.
Gibson strode to the workstation, worked on the laptop, then flicked a switch. Lennox felt the skull cap power up, a low hum. Another switch and a ripple ran through the cage in the tank. The creature was still stuck inside its mesh, but started a pitiful light display, sepia and grey ebbing and trickling. It was nothing compared to the things Lennox had seen Sandy do in the wild, when they were free.
‘Talk to it,’ Gibson said.
Lennox didn’t want to give Gibson any data, but at the same time he felt the urge to reach out to this poor soul.
<Are you OK?> he sent with his mind, gritting his teeth.
The creature flickered turquoise down their tentacles, then back to grey.
Silence for a long moment, and Lennox wondered if they’d heard.
<We are dying, converting to original energy state.> Their voice in his head was so sorrowful it made him blink away tears. < Pain. Make it stop.>
2
HEATHER
She stood outside the doctor’s office, raised her hand to knock, then hesitated. She looked at Mendoza, who threw her a smile. He was a good kid stuck in the wrong military-industrial complex.
She breathed deep then knocked.
‘Come in.’
She opened the door and saw Dr Sharp at his desk, pointing at the spare seat. He was early fifties, slim but exhausted, thin black hair slicked back, shoulders hunched, red eyes.
She closed the door and sat down. He opened his drawer and took out a bottle of Lagavulin and two tumblers.
‘Wee dram?’ His attempt at a Scottish accent was terrible, given he was raised in New Orleans.
‘Do I need one?’ Heather said.
He poured the whisky into the glasses and slid one over.
‘Shit,’ Heather said.
The doctor clinked his glass with hers. She noticed that his was more full. ‘Sláinte.’ Americans loved Scottish culture in small doses.
‘Cheers.’ Heather drank and felt the fire in her throat move to her belly. She closed her eyes, pictured her billions of cells working to keep her alive. Or maybe not.
‘It’s back,’ she said, smacking her lips.
Dr Sharp nodded. ‘It’s back.’
He put his drink down and lifted some scan pictures from his mess of a desk. He held one up to the window, shaky hand making it quiver.
‘The headaches, nausea and vomiting are because your tumour has 6returned. As you suspected. Back in the cerebellum and same size.’
Dr Sharp sipped his drink and handed the scans over. She glanced at them, saw the darkness, didn’t need to look any closer. She knew her own body.
The doctor ran his tongue around his teeth, made a sucking sound.
‘We need to talk about treatment,’ he said. ‘Obviously, things are tricky here on the base, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get you the best available. In fact, this might work in your favour. I can request a surgeon be flown from the US—’
‘No surgery.’ Heather took a drink to buy herself a moment.
Dr Sharp angled his head. ‘This is not terminal, Heather, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
She shook her head. ‘No surgery.’
Dr Sharp stared at her for a long beat then raised his eyebrows in acquiescence. ‘Then we can arrange chemo and radiotherapy treatments. I can either have you sent to Raigmore under guard, or we can get the appropriate people to come to New Broom.’
‘No chemo.’
Dr Sharp sat forward in his chair. The bags under his eyes were big and black and he smelled of alcohol – not just the dram, but stale booze from his pores. We all have our ways of coping, she supposed. He was a widower, had taken a job as a military doctor to lose himself. Dealing with young men was a relief, he didn’t have to face his wife’s death from cancer. But now this reminder.
Heather had no television or internet, no way of knowing how the arrival of the Enceladons had been received by the wider world. For all she knew, the UK and US governments had concocted a crazy cover story to account for all the phone footage of giant sea creatures descending from the sky into the water around Ullapool. What the hell that might be was beyond her, but anything was fakable, deniable. Or maybe they had gone the other way – open and honest about the first encounter with alien life in human history. Here are thousands of interconnected, telepathic, aquatic creatures from the seas7of Enceladus. But that wasn’t likely. If that had happened, why were she and Lennox still being held here and experimented on?
Dr Sharp shook his head. ‘I’m not an oncologist but I asked around, and both surgery and treatment have a decent chance of success. It won’t be easy, of course, but you could still have a long life.’
Heather blew a laugh out of her nose. ‘A long life doing what? Locked in a military base, experimented on with those poor creatures they dredge from the sea?’
The doctor finished his whisky and poured himself another. He waved the bottle at Heather, who shook her head.
‘I’m sorry for the way you’ve been treated,’ he said. ‘You know I would let you go in a heartbeat if I could. But I’m nothing in this place, just like you.’
‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?’
‘We all have our prisons, Heather.’
‘Spare me.’
But he was right. She would always be stuck in the prison of her dead daughter – Rosie, cancer, teenager. Subsequent divorce from Paul, then her own diagnosis of cancer. She’d refused treatment first time round, her mind still full of watching Rosie go through pain and misery. She’d decided to end it all, stepping into the sea at Yellowcraigs, pockets full of stones, only to be saved by Sandy, the Enceladon who’d rewired her brain and cured her cancer first time round.
Now the cancer was back and Sandy was gone.
‘Maybe there’s something else we can do,’ Dr Sharp said. ‘One of the creatures cured you before, right?’
‘Sandy.’
‘Maybe she’ll turn up in the cages.’
‘They.’
‘Sorry, they.’ He didn’t mean it badly, had just forgotten. The Enceladons referred to themselves in the plural because each creature was a collection of consciousnesses, as well as being part of a bigger 8entity, a giant organism. In comparison Heather felt alone, disconnected. Lonely. But she was of interest to those higher up the chain here – because of her telepathy and especially because Sandy cured her cancer.
‘I’ll have to tell them over at the Jedi Council.’ Dr Sharp’s joke name for the military brass here.
‘Of course.’
Heather went to the window, looked at the expanse of water, land and sky. The loch hiding unknowable fathoms of mystery.
Across the square, the door of the research centre opened and Lennox came out, head low, followed by Turner. Heather’s heart ached for Lennox, lost without his connection to Sandy. No one even knew they were here. All they had was each other.
‘Maybe one of the other poor creatures in the research centre can do the same thing for you?’ Dr Sharp said.
Heather watched Lennox scuff across the square, back to their prison home. She turned to the doctor. ‘As soon as the Enceladons are captured they close down, you know that. They start to wither away when separated from their community.’
‘Understandable, given everything you’ve told me.’
Heather had occasionally used the doctor as a release valve. Take what you can get in these circumstances. And she wasn’t telling him anything they didn’t already know higher up. They’d made it clear they would torture her and Lennox if they withheld any information. People resist torture in spy movies, not in real life.
‘Maybe this is my body telling me it’s done,’ Heather said.
‘I didn’t think you believed in fate.’
Heather drank the last of her Lagavulin, imagined it was poison turning her cells black. ‘Maybe I’ve just had enough.’
3
AVA
The windowless room made her feel ill. If she was going to spend her next years in prison she wanted a last view over the Royal Mile or down to the Firth of Forth.
She tried to calm her breathing. She was in a back room at Edinburgh High Court, waiting for the jury to come back. Her solicitor – a nervous young guy with good intentions but little experience – had plumped for a defence of voluntary manslaughter on the grounds of loss of control. God knows that was true. On the quayside at Ullapool, her husband Michael had grabbed their newborn daughter and told Ava he would have her committed to a mental hospital. It was the final act in a decade of physical and mental abuse, gaslighting and coercion.
When defending Ava, the kid Mathers made a decent stab of laying all of this out, and it had been painful to hear in court. She was ashamed of what she let Michael do. And ashamed of what she’d done to him in the end, a wrench to the back of his head and he dropped like a stone. She felt that shame acutely when she saw Michael’s mother in the courtroom gallery. But she was relieved to be free. Even if she spent the next few years in Saughton Prison, it was worth it.
The door opened and Mathers stood aside to let Ava’s sister and mum in, then left. Freya looked angry and tired, face drawn. Ava’s mum, Christine, seemed smaller these days and her roots were showing. She held Chloe, who was fussing. The baby saw Ava and reached out, and Ava took her and squeezed her tight. She felt something inside her, a message of comfort and happiness from 10Chloe. Plenty of mothers talk about having a sixth sense with their babies, but Ava really had something thanks to Sandy in a bathtub somewhere in the Highlands. The creature had connected to both Ava and an unborn Chloe, able to sense both of their thoughts and link them. After Chloe was born, that link persisted without Sandy.
Ava had told her sister about it, and Freya was doubtful. But then she’d never met Sandy, never experienced that incredible being. If only Ava could talk to Lennox or Heather, they would understand, the Enceladon had changed all three of them in a profound way. They were something more than human now, and that scared her.
Ava hadn’t told her mum about her telepathic link to Chloe, Christine wouldn’t understand. She had led Michael to Ava, and was clearly still confused and conflicted about it all. Ava felt sick that her mum doubted her, but wasn’t surprised. Christine had experienced decades of a coercive and abusive marriage to Ava’s dad, these things were almost impossible to shake off.
Chloe sucked on Ava’s finger and Ava knew she was hungry. She sat and began breastfeeding.
Freya and Christine sat too, Freya with her head down, Christine tapping her feet.
‘What do you think they’ll decide?’ she said.
Freya groaned and put her head in her hands. ‘Mum, that’s not helping.’
‘I thought it went well in the courtroom.’
Ava closed her eyes and concentrated on Chloe. The baby had fussed latching onto her nipple, but now that milk was flowing she transmitted a warm glow of satisfaction and love. Ava was overwhelmed by the feeling that her daughter loved her. Imagine if all mothers felt their babies’ emotions this strongly? Imagine if everyone knew what everyone else was feeling? Surely the world would be better, we would have more empathy. She knew nothing about Enceladon society but, given that they all communicated like this, it must feel stronger, more connected.
11Freya lifted her head. Her curly red hair was an untidy bundle but she still looked more together than Ava felt. Ava had lost weight in prison. No bail, considered a flight risk, despite a new baby. She’d cut her own red hair short, easier to manage.
‘It was fucking awful,’ Freya said to their mum. ‘Making Ava relive all that shit with Michael.’
‘Language, Freya,’ Christine said.
It sometimes seemed like their mum was from a different planet. Didn’t like swearing, didn’t approve of Freya’s lesbian lifestyle, thought husbands knew best.
Freya shook her head. ‘Swearing is the last thing to worry about. Ava could go to jail.’
‘It won’t come to that.’
‘I wish I had your confidence.’ Freya looked at Ava. ‘Sorry.’
Ave felt detached from the conversation. She was sharing with her daughter, something they might not be able to do for years, depending on the verdict. She pushed her anxiety to the back of her mind. She’d lived in constant fear of Michael for years, she was determined not to let anyone control her anymore.
There was huge public interest in the case, in part because it was tied to the extraordinary events in Ullapool. She was bemused at the British and American governments’ attempts to cover things up. After a whole bunch of footage of the creatures descending into Loch Broom appeared online, there was a frenzy. But the fact that the creatures disappeared under the surface meant it wasn’t an immediate problem. The UK government hadn’t even admitted they were aliens. Only Ava, Lennox and Heather knew they were from Enceladus. Ava thought about Lennox and Heather. She presumed they were being held somewhere, probably the new military base outside Ullapool.
New Broom attracted widespread interest, of course, but the Americans created exclusion zones. Armed troops, no-fly areas, locals moved out of their homes. None of it explained, just vague statements about environmental hazards. It turns out you could get 12away with anything if you had enough power. According to the authorities, the events were a weird natural anomaly, some previously unknown animals carried by clouds and falling into the sea. Maybe it was meteorological, storm winds from Africa picking up unusually large jellyfish and octopuses into giant clouds and depositing them off Scotland. New Broom was a research station to examine them.
Conspiracy theories were rife, of course, and Ava had scoured them when first allowed internet access in prison. Searching for some sign of Lennox or Heather, looking for the truth. But the lunatic fringe soon took over, creating so much crazy noise that any legitimate concerns were lost.
Ava was distracted by Chloe’s discomfort. It was hard to put into words the sensations she received. Maybe it wasn’t too different from other mothers and daughters. She remembered Chloe still being attached through the umbilical cord after she was born. Michael cutting that link, separating them. But she still had Chloe and Michael was gone. She smiled.
‘Are you OK?’ Freya said.
‘I’m fine.’
The door opened and Mathers stood there running a hand through his mop of curly hair. ‘The jury have gone for the day. We need to come back tomorrow.’
Ava breathed deeply and tried to stay calm.
4
OSCAR
General Ryan Carson was dominating the room as usual. Oscar wondered about the medals on his uniform, if he’d done something heroic in Afghanistan or Iraq. Carson filled that uniform impeccably, fit and muscular despite being in his fifties. He had a gym and steam room built in his accommodation, which no one else was allowed to use. The privilege of power.
He was roasting a junior officer about another fruitless fishing trip, out in their patrol ship trying to catch Enceladons. As Carson tore strips off the poor kid, Jeong, Oscar’s hackles rose. He was still angry that the Americans had turned first contact with an alien species into some pest-control exercise. This was the most profound moment in human history, one Oscar had waited for his entire life, and these thick-necked idiots were destroying any chance they had of learning from the experience. They were like Columbus fucking with the indigenous peoples of the Americas.
Oscar looked out of the window. He never tired of this view. The rolling hills on the other side of the loch like hunched giants, sunlight dappling the ripples on the water’s surface. He thought about what was underneath. He would never forget what he’d seen in Ullapool. Standing there as countless creatures descended like gods, their light displays and the rushing noise of their movement, the smell in his nostrils like a bakery. He imagined Sandy leaping from the waves outside now, splaying their tentacles and shimmering in the sun before descending. Or one of the bigger jellyfish like Xander, fifty metres long and half as wide, a colossal ecosystem in their own right, powers and intelligence beyond human comprehension.
14That’s why Oscar was still here – trying to comprehend. But he’d been sidelined by the Americans and was only invited to these meetings as a courtesy, despite the fact he’d been the first one to realise the importance of all this.
He was riddled with guilt. He’d chased Lennox, Heather and Ava across the country trying to track down Sandy and the other Enceladons. And that had led to this, the humans imprisoned and the Enceladons treated like invasive animals – to be captured, controlled and destroyed.
Carson was now ranting at Dr Gibson about another failed experiment. Oscar hated Gibson, he was the opposite of what a scientist should be. He was hurting the few Enceladons they’d captured, subjecting them to endless experiments, control and isolation they found shocking and painful. Gibson was supposed to be investigating how they communicated telepathically, but it was going nowhere. All he did was work on the poor souls until they gave up and died. Then he dissected them in a pathetic attempt to work out their biology, like something from the Dark Ages.
Oscar would’ve done things differently but he got very limited time with the Enceladons, or with Lennox and Heather. When he’d spoken to Lennox or Heather they’d been understandably hostile, given his role in this whole shit-show. He didn’t blame them.
‘We need more specimens,’ Gibson was saying now.
Carson leaned his fists on the table. ‘You’ve done nothing with the specimens we’ve captured.’
‘I just need more time.’
Carson shook his head. ‘Our top priority is why they’re here. We’ve been asking the same damn question since they arrived, and we’re no further forward.’
‘You know they’re refugees.’ Oscar was surprised that this was his own voice.
Carson glowered at him. ‘Dr Fellowes. Enough with the bleeding-heart liberal stuff. That’s what they want us to think.’
15‘They’re incapable of lying,’ Oscar said, clearing his throat. ‘That’s what Lennox said.’
‘And you believe Hunt and Banks? They’re collaborators.’
‘It’s not us versus them, I wish—’
Carson thumped the table. ‘Enough. Unless you want your time with the specimens removed.’ He leaned closer. ‘Let me remind you that you are here out of the generosity of my government. If I had my way you’d be off this base today. So it would serve you well not to irritate me further.’
Oscar’s cheeks reddened. He was impotent here and everyone knew it. He’d spoken to his bosses at MI7 but they said their hands were tied. The UK government had been steamrollered by their American counterparts, who refused the international community access to these waters, citing security issues. Having the biggest guns in the world made a difference.
Carson turned to Gibson. ‘As for more specimens, we might have good news soon.’
Gibson perked up. ‘What do you mean?’
Carson threw a thumb down the table.
‘Flores in R&D has almost finished a much-improved fishing rod for these things. Flores?’
Flores was tall, dark and handsome, like a lead in a romance movie. The fact he was a research scientist was ridiculous.
‘Final testing happening right now, sir. We should be good for a trial run in the next couple of days.’
‘What is this?’ Oscar said.
Flores checked with Carson first, who nodded. ‘A much bigger version of the Faraday cages, with some mods. Tweaking the EM bursts, adding targeted sonic emissions. The aim is to trap one of the scyphozoa.’
Oscar shook his head. ‘The giant ones? General, these are the first creatures from another—’
‘Enough.’ Carson didn’t even have to raise his voice.
16Oscar swallowed his anger.
Carson spoke to Flores. ‘Let me know when it’s ready. I want to catch me a big alien fish.’
5
LENNOX
Lennox cleared the plates as Heather got the cards out. They had a routine – one cooked, the other cleaned up. Tonight Heather had made chicken balti with a kick, the smell of coriander in the air.
When he’d finished washing up in the kitchen, he walked back to the living area. Not much in here – a bookshelf of memoirs and fiction that Mendoza had picked up from a charity shop in Ullapool. A cheap sofa and armchair, the square dining table and two chairs. The view out of the window was the best thing, sun setting over the sea, shadowed fingers reaching behind the mountains.
Heather had dealt his gin rummy hand. He didn’t particularly like card games, but there was nothing else to do except play guitar. They played a few hands, Heather won and looked sheepish about it.
A fifty-year-old woman and a teenage boy thrown together was weird, but he liked Heather’s easy way of talking, that she cared. He wasn’t used to that. This could’ve felt like a home if they weren’t surrounded by armed guards and razor wire.
‘How did it go today?’ Heather said, dealing.
Those poor fucking creatures, what these bastards were doing to them. Heather and Lennox could sense their pain, as if they themselves were being tortured. If we could all feel each other’s pain, none of this shit would happen.
‘Bad.’
<Who was it?>
<Leia.>
It was natural for them to switch between speaking out loud and in each other’s minds. Lennox couldn’t have explained it to 18someone who didn’t have it. It wasn’t an open transmission, like you were flooded with someone’s every thought. It was directed, though he couldn’t say how. It was still possible to keep secrets, stay individual. He was happy about that, but also happy to have this bond.
Heather shook her head. <They’re not doing well.>
<No.>
The Enceladons didn’t have names, or at least not ones that made sense to Lennox and Heather. It was tied to the idea that they were all part of the same ecosystem and didn’t think of themselves as individuals. That was why they faded away and died when captured. Being separated from the group was intolerable.
Heather and Lennox had devised a naming system using characters from Star Wars – Luke, Han, Chewie and Leia to begin with. Sadly, only Leia was still alive. More recent arrivals were Rey, Kylo, Finn and Poe.
Heather fanned her cards. ‘Do you think they’ll live much longer?’
Lennox put his cards on the table. ‘We have to do something.’
<Like what? We’ve been over this a million times.>
<It feels like we’re complicit.>
Heather took his hand. <You can’t ever think that.> ‘We tried to save Sandy and the rest. We did the right thing. These bastards …’
She looked so tired. He remembered something.
<How did it go with the doc today?>
Heather squeezed his fingers and smiled. <Fine.>
<Do they know what it is?>
She shook her head. ‘Need to do more tests.’
Lennox put out feelers with his mind, to see if she wanted to send something she didn’t want to say out loud. Their telepathy meant they were closer than normal people, but Heather was still a mystery. He sensed nothing.
‘That’s bullshit.’
She got up from the table. <I’m feeling a bit tired, might turn in.>
19<Of course.> He got up too, gave her a hug, watched her walk to her bedroom and shut the door. She moved slowly, touched the doorway for support on the way past.
He walked down the hall to the front door and opened it.
‘Hey.’
Mendoza turned and smiled. ‘Hey, compadre.’
He was shorter than Lennox but weighed twice as much – all muscle. His combat vest made him look even bulkier. Shaved head, dark-brown eyes, tattoos of birds on his neck and hands. His rifle was across his body, pointing away.
‘How’s it going?’
‘Good.’ Mendoza pointed his chin at the sunset. ‘Nice evening.’
‘OK if I go for a walk?’
‘Sure.’
Turner never let him do anything, but Mendoza let him roam. He was grateful for the exercise and fresh air.
He patted Mendoza on the back and walked across the large square. Two soldiers made their way to the canteen, but it was otherwise empty. Lennox walked towards the fence nearest the sea, stood there for a while, then sauntered to the right until he was hidden behind the meeting room. It would be empty this time of day. He walked to the corner of the fence in the gloaming, the sun now behind the western hills. The small Rhue lighthouse on the headland wasn’t lit and looked lonely.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. <Hello?>
Nothing.
<Sandy?>
He sighed but kept trying. Thought of poor Leia earlier, asking for the pain to stop. He hoped Sandy was swimming far away through the cold Atlantic so they would never be caught. But he also wanted them right here. His life had been transformed by that creature. Only Heather and Ava understood.
<Sandy, please, if you can hear me.>
20‘Hey.’
He jumped and opened his eyes. A girl stepped from behind a rocky outcrop on the other side of the fence. She was around his age, tall and lanky. She had long black hair cut into a fringe, green eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. She wore gym shorts showing off long, tanned legs, thick socks and walking boots, a black waterproof with green trim and a small backpack.
Lennox looked around to check they weren’t being watched.
‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’m careful.’
Lennox couldn’t speak. This was the first person he’d seen apart from the authorities and Heather in months.
‘I’m Vonnie,’ she said.
‘Lennox.’
‘What were you doing?’
‘What?’
She mimicked him by scrunching her eyes shut, furrowing her brow. ‘All that.’
‘Nothing.’
‘Meditating?’
‘Kind of.’
‘I meditate. Helps with all the bullshit.’ She stepped closer to the fence. ‘I guess you’ve got a lot of bullshit in there.’
Lennox wondered if he was hallucinating.
‘Yeah,’ he said, feeling stupid. ‘Who are you? I mean, where did you come from?’
She nodded behind her. ‘My dad owns the Ardmair Holiday Park up the coast. I get out of there when I can, long walks along the shore. Escape all those weirdos.’
‘Weirdos?’
‘You don’t get to see the news in there?’
Lennox shook his head.
‘How long since you heard anything?’
‘Six months.’
21‘You and the blonde woman?’ Vonnie had been watching them. ‘Is she your mum?’
‘No.’ But she was the nearest thing he had to a parent.
‘Why are you in there?’
Lennox didn’t know where to start.
‘Is it to do with the visitors?’
‘What do you mean?’
Vonnie sucked her teeth. ‘The weirdos have made a camp up the coast. Some of them are paying Dad for berths, but loads just camp on the beach and the side of the road. They call it Camp Outwith. Reckon they’ve all had a message from the visitors to go there. They stare out to sea for hours at a time.’
‘Camp Outwith?’
‘If you’ve met the visitors, they’ll be jealous.’
‘What do you know about the visitors?’
Vonnie stuck out her lip. ‘Just rumours, what the Outwithers talk about. They’re from another planet, a sea world, octopuses and jellyfish, weird powers. They can make folk have strokes, electrocute them, give them hallucinations.’
Lennox smiled. ‘It’s all true.’
Vonnie considered that. ‘Maybe the Outwithers aren’t so crazy after all.’
‘Can you help us?’ Lennox said. ‘Can you tell people we’re being held here?’
‘Like some Guantanamo shit?’
‘Do people know about this place?’
‘I mean, they know it exists,’ Vonnie said. ‘But no one knows what’s going on. They don’t allow drones, no shipping, the roads closed for miles.’
Lennox frowned. ‘So how did you get here?’
She smiled. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
Lennox heard a noise behind him, footsteps across the square, getting louder. Vonnie heard them too.
22‘You’d better go,’ he said.
Vonnie took a step back, fished something out of her pocket. It was a folded piece of paper. She flicked it nonchalantly over the fence. It landed at Lennox’s feet and he picked it up.
‘I’ll see you again. Take care, Lennox.’ She stepped behind the rocks and was gone.
The footsteps got louder as he picked up the paper and unfolded it. It was a pencil drawing of him, lifelike and generous, mouth smiling, eyes shining, like he had hope. Underneath she’d written: Vonnie xxx.
6
OSCAR
He pulled into the layby between campervans. Switched his engine off and stared at the bonfires on the beach. He got out, felt the sharp air on his face, smelled seaweed. There were a dozen fires, each surrounded by people, shimmering shapes in the firelight. Beyond them, the mouth of the loch was darkness.
Camp Outwith had grown up in the wake of the Enceladons’ arrival. Months ago, Carson took the first few arrivals in for questioning. But none of the Outwithers had met any of the aliens, so they were useless. They’d simply been drawn here by some dream, a sense it was vital. Two months ago, soldiers cleared out the camp, sending vans, motorhomes and campers away down the road. But they all came back the next day. Carson didn’t waste any more resources on a bunch of deluded hippies, as he saw them.
Oscar was more interested. He’d come incognito a few times, sat at a campfire and listened. They weren’t what he expected, not hippies at all. They were ordinary folk from all walks of life, some had left jobs and families to be here. He was reminded of religious visions, they all spoke about a higher meaning, a sense they had to be here. He was envious. The chatter from the campfires gave him a pang in his heart. The sense of community here was the opposite of New Broom.
‘Welcome.’
He jumped at the voice and turned. Jodie Becker – she wouldn’t call herself the leader here, but that’s what she was. Oscar had read her file back at base. Prior to this she made jewellery on Skye, after arriving from London in the nineties. She was black, sixty but looked 24
