Authors: David Sakmyster
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Paranormal & Urban
“Really? What does the U.N. want with Solstice?”
“I guess all the wacky weather and natural disasters and things have finally gotten the world’s attention. And the fact that Solstice predicted a few of these dead-on, they’re going to want to know how they can use what we have.”
Mason licked his lips and glanced again around the screens, seeing scene after scene of nature packing a wallop. “So would I.”
He thought for a moment. “But one more question, why address the U.N.? It doesn’t sound like Solomon. I think he would imagine them as a useless overly-bureaucratic bunch that gets nothing done, or if they do, it’s too slow to be of any use.”
Hespera laughed. “Oh he’s not all that cynical. We’re a practical bunch, really. And we know you’ve got to play by the rules a little, at least once in a while, if you want to get anything done in the world.” She winked and started to lead him to the other end of the chamber.
About to follow, Mason saw a little commotion at one of the stations. Three men and a woman crowding around a terminal, shooting glances up to the nearest screen—a Doppler readout of the Southeast coast. Mason saw it in a flash: a super cell three miles long heading into a game of chicken with an equal-sized but nimbler extra-tropical cyclone surging from the south.
Before he knew it, he found himself in front of their terminal, pointing up at the screen. “When did that start?”
The young girl looked up, glassy-eyed, and the other men shook their heads. “Just formed, from what we can see.” She tapped some keys and the large screen adjacent to the one he was focused on blinked out and formed a mirror image—which then reversed and played back. And within time-elapsed minutes the storm free skies before the coast of North Carolina were overwhelmed with a surging, violent storm, as if it had just been slapped there by a kid with tape and a cut-out magnet.
“Jesus.” Mason’s mouth went dry. “Get on the phone with the Mid-Atlantic Early Warning Center!” He turned around, ashen-faced. “They’ve got to issue an evacuation order immediately.”
“Not enough time,” said the larger man, straightening up. He was bald, broad-chested and had two different colored eyes—an oddity Mason noticed at once. Just as he noticed the man palming a Galaxy S5 phone and slipping it into his back pocket, as if he didn’t want to be seen just finishing a call or text.
Mason narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? There’s always time. I’d predict landfall …” he looked back, mouth open. Damn, it was moving fast, faster than it should have, given the wind speed and the statistics and prevailing conditions marching vertically along the screen. “In fifteen minutes. Christ.”
He moved, leaping over the railing to an empty station where someone had just taken a break. He took a seat, slipped on a headset, familiarized himself with the keyboard array, and started to work. In moments, he had the Early Warning Center on the line, and was barking out figures and observations, countering some of what the person on the other end had indicated, and finally forcing an escalation.
Mason finally sat back, taking deep breaths, watching several of the screens switch to red, blinking warnings as news popped up on other viewers, reporting on the massive and sudden storm bearing down on vacationers and homes up the Carolinas and into Virginia.…
When he finally stood up, the bald bi-colored eye man was right behind him, arms folded.
“Thanks for your help,” Mason said sarcastically, and slid around him, joining Hespera. Paler than usual, she gave a thin smile to the people watching them, and then led Mason out the door.
“Who the hell was that?” Mason asked when they were out of earshot, heading into a black-walled, shiny-floored chamber that looked like it belonged on the Death Star.
“Pay him no mind. That’s the floor manager, Victor Nunion.”
“Seems like he got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“That’s unlikely, as he doesn’t sleep, from what we can tell. He’s here all the time.” Hespera leaned in, whispering, “And always kissing up to Solomon. I also hear he was super jealous that Gabriel apparently took the favored spot as an up and coming apprentice.”
“Great. So maybe that’s why I’m getting the dagger glares of death?”
Hespera shrugged. “Maybe, just keep from pissing him off too much and you’ll do fine. Now come on, I’m sure the meeting’s about to start.”
Mason followed, still chilled about the near-spontaneous appearance of such a killer storm.
Chapter 5
The central conference chamber was unlike anything he had expected. Thinking so far below the surface it would be dark, windowless and oppressively stifling, instead he set foot into a gloriously effervescent rectangular chamber with an impossibly high ceiling, backlit with bright faux sunlight filtering through a beautiful painted canopy of leaves, branches and vines. The walls had framed viewscreens that gave the impression of large bay windows looking out into a marvelous glade, with running waterfalls, prancing deer, flowering shrubs and a trickling stream.
A great center table ran through the room, no less imposing a sight: thick mahogany, smooth rounded edges and knotholes, and enormous chairs, each one a unique hand-carved slab of masonry chiseled into a smooth throne. Twelve seats in all. Eleven men and women seated, turning at his entrance.
And one more. On the central window-screen behind the lone empty chair was the image of Solomon, obviously in the middle of a speech. A mountain range in the background, this one obviously real.
Looks like he’s Skyping from somewhere in the Sierra Nevadas
, Mason thought, focusing on the snow-capped peaks behind them.
Was that Mt. Whitney?
“Sorry for the delay,” Hespera said. “We—”
“Ah, Mason!” said Solomon. “Good to see you acclimating, and down in the elite trenches where you belong. Everyone, meet our newest phenom, a brilliant meteorologist, family man, Renaissance man and all around swell guy. Mason Grier.”
The eleven faces nodded. A few broke out in forced smiles.
“Take a seat, Mason.” Solomon’s image loomed large as he glanced toward the sole empty chair. His chair. “Don’t worry, it’s not permanent.”
Mason moved slowly, aware of all the eyes on him. He had to crack some kind of joke, respond in kind. “Well, as long as I don’t have to bear any liability that goes with it.”
“None needed. Okay, that will be all Hespera. Show yourself out.”
She had been hanging around the back of the room, notebook to her chest. She nodded, then slid and let the door shut quietly.
Solomon waited for Mason to sit, and awkwardly—not sure which direction to face—turn around to have nothing between him and his boss, who had shifted and now the view presented a wide expanse of forestry—mostly giant sequoias—behind him.
Familiar, Mason thought again. That range, and the crest he must be on.
I’ve seen it before somewhere.
His heart skipped and a sweat broke out on his brow.
A flash of a secluded glade. Creeping mist, snow, and the hint of a thatched rooftop …
He blinked and it was gone, and Solomon was in mid-sentence.
“… I was saying, the hostile takeover we spoke of last week has been completed. You will all be filled in on the details upon my return.”
One of the women at the opposite end of the table spoke up. “And what of their … employees? Will we be merging, or making cutbacks?”
“Yet to be determined,” Solomon said cheerily. “Certainly some culling of the ranks has to occur, but only in support of our long term goals. Our assets will be grown accordingly.”
“Next moves?” asked a gray-haired man on Mason’s left. He had deep-set, hooded eyes and long spindly fingers that reminded Mason of the long pincers of a praying mantis.
“As we detailed at our last session, with one caveat.” Solomon took in a deep breath, clearly savoring the crisp mountain air. “We are accelerating the time frame. Phase Two, I fully expect, will be a viable action in thirty-six hours.”
“It’s coming up soon,” said the same man, tapping his fingers together. “The twenty-first. Doesn’t give us much time, but we’ll get on it, start making the preparations.”
“See that you do.”
“And manpower? The other … resources we need?”
“You’ll have them.” Solomon smiled. “I anticipate their availability shortly after my visit to the U.N. tomorrow. Unless we’re met with severe ignorance, it will be done.”
Mason cleared his throat, feeling increasingly left out. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to derail the progress you’re making here, but … where do I fit in? Apologies again to the group, but this being my first day, I didn’t expect to be in this position.”
“Sorry Mace,” Solomon said quickly. “But your orientation classes will have to wait. We’re throwing you to the wolves, so to speak.”
Nodding, Mason couldn’t wait for the follow up. “And these wolves … where are they and when have they last eaten?”
A few chuckles softened the room, and Solomon licked his lips. “Why, they’re at the U.N., where you’ll be accompanying me. You’ll be at my side, supporting our forecasting technology and most of all, giving an impassioned speech, as I know you’re capable, about the power of foreknowledge and the life-saving miracles only we can provide.”
Mason swallowed hard. “But I don’t know enough yet about it.”
“You’ve seen it first hand.”
“Yes but …”
I don’t know exactly what the hell I saw.
“And you’ve done it a million times before,” Solomon encouraged. “I’ve seen you, I’ve studied you. We all have.”
“My broadcasts? I’m flattered, but surely, they weren’t that awe-inspiring.”
“They were. Persuasive, energetic. Compelling and broad. You speak in terms laymen understand, you make the complex simple and most importantly, you make it interesting. People tuned in because you’re special that way. They were entertained and informed at once. And, you saved lives. Saved crops, saved homes, and most of all—saved time. But now the stakes are raised. We’re coming face to face with Nature in all her fury.”
Solomon took a deep breath and locked his eyes on Mason, who felt the whole room likewise staring at him, intently focusing.
“Nature,” Solomon repeated. “Unflinching, uncaring and until now—unpredictable. Now, Mason, we have the tools to tame her. To warn far in advance of the freak snowstorm that could devastate the unprepared or the sudden tornado that could selectively rip through a town and kill with drone-like precision.”
Mason’s heart froze.
He knows about my past and is using that knowledge.
Using it effectively. But Mason didn’t feel slighted. Not this time. This time, he was on the same page as his new boss. And he agreed.
“I’ll do it,” Mason said.
Solomon nodded. “There was never any doubt.”
“You have to let me prepare, though. Show me what the technology is capable of, how it works, what’s required.…”
Solomon waved his hand. “Not enough time for all that, but on the flight to New York, you’ll have the abstracts and the patent applications, and you can review some of the test cases. That will be enough. I will talk through the technology. You need only support the benefits of its application, and field questions on how it could be implemented and take the place of existing warning systems and the like.”
Mason nodded, thinking it all through. “Ok, I’ll be ready.”
“Excellent. Then I will sign off here and meet you and your son in New York. Hespera will have the travel arrangements for you.”
“When do we leave?”
“No rest for the wicked! First thing in the morning, of course.”
“But—”
A flash again rose behind Mason’s eyes: the thatched roof, swirling fog obscuring everything else. Ice flakes in the air and a brutal chill rushed through his mind, as if seeking to freeze him and encase his skull in numbing ice. And in just as quick a flash, it was gone.
Solomon took no notice. “Hespera has also made the flights for your daughter to fly back out to Heathrow around the same time. You can say your goodbyes at the airport.”
Mason smiled. “You read my mind. Thank you. I’ll be ready.”
“You had better be, Mason. Because those wolves you were asking about? They’ll be starving.”
Chapter 6
At LAX, Mason and Shelby said their goodbyes to Lauren, who stayed in the limo. Mason again thanked the Solstice driver for his generous care and time—another perk of the job and sign of support from Solomon, but it was unexpected. Mason knew Lauren felt great to get out of the house and to see them off. She could have come in, but it wasn’t necessary, and it would give Mason and Shelby a little time together.
After the security checkpoints and after checking their luggage, Mason took his daughter to a Starbucks overlooking their terminal’s arriving flights, and they sat and sipped mocha lattes with extra whipped cream. They talked, really talked, for nowhere near as long as Mason would have liked, and in fact he mostly listened. By the end of the hour, when they called her flight first, Mason’s ears were full of her voice, ringing with joy at every cadence, at the speed at which she had regained her rhythm and found her true voice. It was nearly impossible already to hear the old struggles, or even that there had been any problems before today.
And soon the conversation had turned to more interesting topics, although again time was their adversary.
“Be careful,” was about the only thing he could say, the only advice he had left for her.
“We’re working on the same team, the same company!” Shelby said again. It was far too great a thrill for her, and Mason couldn’t knock that down, no matter his misgivings. “Just be careful,” he said as they gave each other one final hug. “I don’t know exactly what their plans are, or what roles you and I are playing, but be on the lookout. You’ve got a great head on your shoulders, use it.”
“Of course, and I’ll be back soon! And now we can teleconference and see each other like we’re in the next room!”
“Let’s definitely do that. Also let me know when you know, what they’ve got you doing out there in the Old World.”
“Not that old, Dad. Not like you!” She jabbed him, then gave him one more kiss on the cheek, and then she was through the checkpoint, slinging her bag over her shoulder and following the pilot into the hallway, where she started up a spirited conversation.
Smiling, Mason headed back to his gate, pausing first for a pack of gum. He turned after the purchase, bemoaning the cost of three dollars, and stopped, seeing the latest on CNN:
Flash floods in the Congo. Absolute devastation viewed by a helicopter soaring over fields of rushing muddy water. People hanging on to boards, waving for help. A giraffe floundering, kicking at the water. Then a map of the area in red.
He blinked and looked away, out the window to Shelby’s gate, where her plane was just leaving, heading toward the runway—and a massive black churning cloud came rolling in from over the mountains.
Mason clenched his teeth, walked up to the glass and stared, open-mouthed. The storm clouds seemed to roll and somersault gleefully, rushing down to meet the planes taking off. The one ahead of hers rose right toward the churning mass, perhaps too late to get a warning. Mason wanted to shout, to rush to an attendant and call the tower to ground all flights—when all of a sudden, the cloud parted, split down the middle as if a lance of pure gale force wind pushed in the opposite direction, through its heart and ahead of the ascending plane.
The cloud burst apart, rolled in two opposite directions, and scattered all in the space of twenty seconds as the plane rose through its previous mass.
It was followed by Shelby’s, which tore along the same trajectory, then banked and as it angled right, the remaining cloud cover scattered frightfully before its approach.
In the next minute, as Mason watched, astounded, the skies cleared and both planes went on their ways uneventfully into the perfect blue.
It wasn’t until the desk made a final call to board that Mason snapped his mind back to the present and barely made it on his flight.