Against Gravity

And then there was the question of the presumed evidence that could destroy Max Draeger. The thought that Peter McCowan was lying about such evidence -was engaged in some vast deception in which Kendrick had all too willingly played his part – had occurred to him more than a few times.

Yet, despite all his worries and doubts, he found himself believing McCowan. Or is that just my own guilt talking?

The landscape below revealed occasional oases of generator-powered activity where the post-Nuke reconstruction work had started. For the first time, Kendrick understood just how much he was prepared to sacrifice to bring Draeger down. More than he might ever have suspected, or admitted to anyone else.

"They're getting closer," Buddy muttered, his face turning stiff and expressionless.

A screen displayed the pursuing 'copters against a blue sky, most of the detail lost in the glare of the sun shining down on the Santa Monica hills. Kendrick studied the screen and saw tiny pulses of light appear from the helicopters, moving fast. Buddy dived suddenly, almost ru

Buddy twisted the stick again so they were climbing, the ground falling away once more in a rush as more streaks of light came uncomfortably close.

Kendrick's head spun with vertigo. Buddy was pushing the aircraft to its limits.

Buddy grunted in surprise and Kendrick looked up to see a string of tiny lights hanging in the air barely a klick ahead, directly in their path. Something about the way they hovered suggested balloons of some kind – they didn't appear to be moving, so perhaps they were tethered to the ground.

"This could be some kind of trap," Kendrick said. "They might have set it up in advance, if they knew we'd be heading west."

Buddy shrugged. "Yeah, well. Maybe, maybe not. Can't turn back now. Shit."

Bright sparks sailed past them again, and again the helicopter spun to one side. Kendrick hung on as if for dear life.

"Fuck!" Buddy bellowed, gripping the stick with both hands and twisting hard. Kendrick felt his gorge rise and he choked as the aircraft wheeled over. "Okay," he heard Buddy yell, his voice verging on outright panic. "Now that's just too fucking close for comfort!"

The points of light in their path had now resolved themselves into distinct yellowish and cylindrical-looking shapes. They started moving of their own volition, appearing to part in order to allow Buddy's 'copter to pass between them. Tracer fire from one of the pursuing helicopters grazed one of the cylindrical shapes and it blossomed in a ball of flame and tumbled slowly downwards.

Kendrick felt his throat start to close up once he saw just how close the other craft were. They were never going to get away from them.

In an instant, though, they were through and past the hovering shapes. Kendrick caught a fleeting glimpse of one: an unma

But what was it doing here? Was it Draeger or Los Muertos who had positioned them? It rapidly became clear that the drones were not floating idly: now they were moving with clear purpose towards their pursuers.

"What the hell are those things?" yelled Buddy.

"Absolutely no fucking idea," Kendrick replied. "But – Jesus! – look what's happening!"

Behind them they could see a series of bright flashes, followed by a succession of long, distant booming sounds. Burning shapes tumbled to the earth, trailing streaks of liquid flame as they spiralled downward.

Three of the pursuing helicopters were already down. The three survivors appeared to be playing a complicated game of tag with the remaining unma

Buddy's expression was frenzied. "Somebody did that. Somebody helped us get away. Who the fuck was it? Who did that?"

Kendrick couldn't think of an appropriate reply.

27 October 2096 Over the Pacific

Most of the next hour and a half was spent flying over water, hugging the coastline as they travelled northwest. Kendrick surprised himself by falling asleep, and found that he was actually getting used to airborne dozing despite the constant thundering drone of rotor blades.

He woke – bleary-eyed, stiff-necked and with a bad headache – to gaze out on something very like an oil platform marooned in an infinity of bright blue water. Whether or not that had been its original role Kendrick didn't know but it had clearly gained a new purpose.

Its upper deck housed a gantry supporting a shuttle like those he had seen taking off from the Los Muertos base. The shuttle itself was painted pale blue, with wide strips of a darker blue angling across its body from the nose. Vapour was already emerging from its base in dense clouds before descending to meet the waves licking the platform's supporting columns far below. A ship the size of a large frigate, its upper decks strewn with radar and comms towers, floated in the water only a short distance away. As Buddy circled in towards the ship's landing pad, Kendrick recognized Veliz and some of the other Labrats from LA waiting below.

Kendrick glanced down at his hands where they rested in his lap. They still didn't look anywhere near normal, but at least they were no longer as nightmarish in appearance as when he had recently emerged from the Maze.

Kendrick stepped down from the helicopter and onto the landing pad. The ship's deck stretched out ahead of him, rising to a forest of communications dishes and radar equipment mounted just above the bridge. He enjoyed the sensation of the fresh wind against his face, the taste of salt on his tongue.

When Buddy clapped him on his shoulder, Kendrick could see how much the past several days of stress had taken out of him. A man in a naval-style white uniform stepped up onto the landing platform, followed by several others similarly attired.

"Captain Arnheim," the leading man introduced himself. "Mr Juarez, it's good to see you again. Mr Sabak would like to speak with you urgently."

"Thank you, captain."

Arnheim was a hawk-faced man in his fifties who had a look that Kendrick had come to recognize: of not being sure quite who or what to believe. He could almost read the naval officer's thoughts as his gaze settled on Kendrick. Did he need to be placed in containment? Did he represent a danger not only to the other Labrats on board but also to his own crew and the scientists?

"It looks a lot worse than it feels," Kendrick said evenly "I'm not infectious. I don't represent any danger."

Arnheim studied him with bright, hard eyes. Kendrick knew that the man would have no hesitation in flinging him overboard if he deemed it necessary to protect his crew and passengers. "You should know that we have a containment facility in case of extreme emergencies. If your condition worsens significantly prior to the launch, we may have to make use of it."

"I understand," Kendrick replied.

They let Arnheim's officers guide them both down below, proceeding along clanging metal corridors where technicians and crewmen swarmed around them. Kendrick couldn't help but notice how Arnheim's men surrounded him at a safe distance, thus effectively isolating him from everyone they came in contact with.

Someone stepped through a door and headed towards them. He shook Buddy's hand with a strong grip. As he turned to Kendrick he faltered, then – in an impressively humane and generous gesture – reached out and shook his hand just as firmly.