Chapter 2 - Part 1

Ebbe kept glancing through the dirty glass window of the store. She felt paranoid today, although she didn't know why, and felt the need to keep the Land Rover in her field of vision as she grabbed a few essentials.


"Nine pound seven," JC slurred lazily.


Ebbe absently dug out a fifty pound note and tossed it onto the counter, paying more attention to the vehicle than JC who eyed the note with suspicion. He picked it up as if it may be toxic and held it up to the light, squinting his round face. A daft potato faced man, Ebbe thought as she briefly allowed her attention to return to the shopkeeper, who was now holding the note under an ultraviolet light box. Ebbe noticed with a wry smile that the box wasn't even turned on. With a shrug JC finally relented and pounded clumsily on the till, which popped open with a ping. Good God, Ebbe marvelled each time she watched this ritual, these people are barely in the twentieth century, let alone the twenty-first. But that was what had drawn her to Barton St Johns to begin with; isolation and the worst mobile and internet connection you could get bar moving to an island somewhere in darkest Scotland. That had been a possibility, until she realised civilisation had to at least be accessible reasonably quickly, should the need arise, and a two hour boat ride, plus four hour car journey just to reach a village store was not going to swing it.


After much fumbling JC finally dropped some ten pound notes and coins onto the counter unceremoniously. Ebbe scooped it all up, not bothering to double check and turned without a word. She didn't care to ingratiate herself with the natives, all that took up far too much time. She only knew JC was JC because he had enthusiastically introduced himself and offered a handshake when she made her first trip to his convenience store. Ebbe soon put paid to such foolishness by telling him she didn't care if his name was WC and would he kindly keep his greasy paws away from her if he didn't want to lose a finger or two.


The bell on the door jangled irritatingly as she exited, brown paper bag held in one arm. She caught what appeared to be a shadow in the corner of the adjoining building and whipped her head around. Nothing. There's that damn paranoia again. What is my problem, she puzzled as she swiftly popped the back door open and tossed the bag in, not caring that a couple of tins tumbled out and fell under the drivers seat.


Slamming the door shut again she gave a quick survey of the town, which was nothing more than a collection of derelict looking buildings huddled together to share in their misery before committing suicide. Everything seemed as dreary as ever. Not that it mattered of course, she reasoned with a dry smirk. Try to shake off the growing paranoia Ebbe made her way to the driver's seat and made the usual effort to pull herself into the tall chair. These damned things weren't designed for someone only five foot two she cursed as she grasped the steering wheel and hoisted herself in.


After she slammed the door shut Ebbe paused and closed her eyes tightly. Of course, of course, they will come, nobody likes a secret to get out and the bigger the secret the bigger the need to keep it that way. The chatter on the net had been about a V6. Someone had one on their head. Nobody knew who and nobody knew why. But the fact that a fabled V6 was even being mentioned was enough to keep the geeks and their conspiracy theories ticking over for another century. Ebbe re-opened her eyes and let the dim light flood back in, making her head throb a little. Everyone had a theory and of course they were all wrong. Other people are always wrong. Especially the secret keepers. Whatever secret they thought they were protecting, it was the wrong one for the wrong reason.


Ebbe started the engine, which spluttered to life like a heavy smoker on a respirator. Without checking her mirror she swung out into the road and drove away, engine coughing and wheezing.


A V6, she continued to ponder, is such a ridiculous concept and one that surely was never meant to be actioned. Of course, one only has the word of the types who spend their days in dark dank rooms, stealing data from places they shouldn't and trying to find someone who actually cares. Ebbe always found it surprising how little the ordinary person cares what companies, agencies and businesses know about them and what they do with that information. I suppose that is why they are ordinary she surmised. But a V6. A real V6, was anything but ordinary. So if it truly had been sanctioned, it would have to be for a truly extraordinary reason. And Ebbe could think of nothing more extraordinary than what she had discovered. 


The Land Rover came to a skidding, juddering halt in the middle of the road, just before the turn to the abandoned railway bridge. I'm not paranoid, Ebbe declared rationally, I'm simply aware that the V6 is for me. They'll likely be on their way. If they're not here already.


Ebbe rolled that juicy thought around in her head. What if they're here already? What if? I suppose I ought to assume they are and simply turn this metal beast around and drive straight to that Scottish island. And what then? Sit there until the sky falls on our heads? No no, think about this sensibly. What kind of person do they send to undertake a V6? What kind of person would you trust to kill a civilian, their entire family and all of their known contacts? You can't just send a mindless thug. They would make it too high profile, too messy. Unexplained deaths may simply serve to highlight the person and their activity. No no, a V6 requires care and attention. A man with brains. Of course it will be a man. Those in charge of such agencies are always men and they would only trust a man to do it. Fools. A woman can be far more ruthless. Men are easily distracted. It will be an intelligent man, with experience and probably no clue what his order is until the target is in his sights. Too little time to question the validity of the order or think. But he'll be a quick thinker. A man with morals. A good killer is the one who does it only when absolutely necessary. The men at the top never realise this.


Ebbe fired up the Land Rover again and sped away, the engine seemingly gaining a second lease of life, as if it had coughed up whatever had been choking it earlier. Ebbe pressed her foot down hard on the accelerator as the sun began to vanish beyond the horizon and the woods were lit up in a blaze of deep crimson. I shall, Ebbe continued, meet this man and convince him to join me, not kill me. I only hope he isn't like other intelligent men, who feel the need to surround themselves with morons, presumably to further flag their readily apparent intellect to women. A moron with a gun is a dangerous thing.


The thought of Jorge and Sam being shot in cold blood sent a shudder down her spine. What's worse, Ebbe wondered, seeing the end of all things, or dying at the hands of a government lackey? After all, the second would at least prevent them from seeing the suffering, the chaos and God only knows what else. But no one has the right to make that choice for them. Not even me.


The drive from town to the farmhouse took nigh on an hour, the road growing ever thinner and winding mercilessly through thick woodland. The day had long faded to a magnificent clear sky night as Ebbe pulled up to the house, nestled in less than idyllic marshlands. The place had been a bargain because the surrounding land had long been unusable for crops or livestock and the house had fallen into disrepair. 


The Land Rover shuddered to a halt, giving out a little sigh as it did, as if it were relieved to be resting after being pushed so hard over the uneven road, long since abandoned by the local council. Ebbe pushed the door open, which creaked in protest. Down she jumped and then stood, looking first in the dark thick woodland to the front of the property and then down at the sweeping valley, currently glistening with silver light reflected in the marshes from above. There was no moon that night, but by God, with no human light to pollute the skies, those stars sure did sparkle.

Taking a deep breath Ebbe sucked up the bracing cold air and glanced up. It was the same sky she had fallen in love with growing up in South Africa. The sky at night in the desert was a thing of true beauty that had been seared into her mind since childhood. Ebbe had believed in Heaven purely because of those tiny little jewels scattered across the inky blackness. Clearly such beauty could only exist in Heaven, she had believed, long before she studied astronomy and learnt the constellations. For some reason, the Great Bear, Ursa Major, was always her favourite. Most astronomers moved on from such obvious constellations, but for Ebbe, it was the one that truly captured her imagination. It was for this reason that she sought it out before making her way to the house. A faint hope that gazing upon it may steel her reserve for whatever may be coming next. 


There! That was The Plough, which forms the hind quarters and tail of The Great Bear. Hello my old friend, I'm glad that, for now at least, you are still with me.


Enough sentimental nonsense Ebbe, she scolded, shaking her head. Into the house and face whatever demons may have ascended upon you from Hell. 


And so Ebbe made her way to the house, forgetting her shopping bag that had tumbled to the floor of the Land Rover during the bumpy ride home. 


After stepping across the threshold Ebbe found herself peeking into every room, half expecting to see a heavily armed military unit staring back at her and before she could utter a word they would all fire and that would be that. Well, if they do, then you doom the rest of humanity to the same eventual fate, Ebbe scolded her imaginary soldiers. After turning on the light in every room only to find no intruders awaiting her arrival Ebbe made her way to the living room. Her head began to swim and she found herself staggering to the wall, right hand clasped to her forehead. Taking a moment to compose herself Ebbe decided she needed a hot sugary drink. 


"Damn," she cursed out loud suddenly remembering the shopping still sitting in the Land Rover. "What a fool I am," she said, suddenly feeling silly for having bought into the idle gossip of the geeks who loved to blabber about obviously mythical agencies and their supposed crazy actions. Ebbe stared at all her star charts and the vast picture of the moon. She only followed those geeks to see if anyone else had spotted the problem. Or at least whether anyone who may have spotted it had dared speak out. Obviously they hadn't. Everyone else was ordinary. 


Ebbe made a snap decision to get the kettle boiling before heading back to the Land Rover. 


As she passed back through the living room, heading to the front door, she stumbled across four heavily armed men doing a sweep of her living room.


"What the hell is going on?" Ebbe heard herself say before there was a loud crack and everything went black.

Chapter 1 - Part 2

Chapter 1

"Tie her up," Anthony barked angrily.

"I thought..." started Cody before catching Anthony's glare and restraining himself. "Uh, the chair?" he said instead. Anthony nodded impatiently, turning back to the image of the moon. Stepping forward for a closer view he could see clippings cut from magazines and papers pinned to the wall. 'Moon landing a fraud', read one, 'Telemetry tape travesty!' announced another, 'Rock samples proved to be fake', 'Lunar lunacy', and many more, all articles or letters by or about conspiracy theorists disputing the moon landing ever happened.

Since when does Her Majesty give a damn about crazies who think the yanks faked the moon landing? Anthony asked himself as he perused the high resolution photo of the moon, the key landing sites pinned and identified; Capernicus, Mare Nubium, Mare Tranqillitatis, Oceanus Procellarum, Mare Fecundatatis.

"Mare fecundatatis," Anthony unconsciously said out loud as he read it, as if trying the word out to see how it rolled off the tongue.

"Sea of fertility," a woman's voice interrupted his train of thought and he turned to see his target, the V6, sitting upright on an expensive looking wooden chair, her arms tied behind her back, her feet tied separately to their respective chair legs. Anthony thought she ought to look frail, petite as she was, but somehow her sharp, fine bone structure, pale, serious face and stiff composure made her appear more defiant, like a wild cat caught in a trap, biding it's time, knowing full well it will either die, or escape and live and resigned to either fate.

Anthony was disconcerted by this. Normally people act the way you expect and that makes things a lot easier to deal with. If you burst into the home of even the most hardened criminal, shoot them and tie them to a chair, you'd expect some level of fear to be evident. In fact the more guilty a person, the more they have to lose, the more fear they often display. At least that gives you something to work with, a bargaining chip. But this chick was cool as a cucumber and as a V6 the brass had confirmed she was nothing more than a ordinary citizen who had done, or seen, something they shouldn't have. So why is she so damn calm? She doesn't even seem angry or surprised.

"I'm surprised it took them so long," she said, almost in answer to his thoughts. Her voice was unnervingly calm with a hint of an accent, not Swedish as her name suggested either, something she had tried long and hard to cover up. "Is this not against protocol?" She asked, gesturing to the rope around her ankles.

Anthony frowned. What did she know of protocol? What an odd thing to say. It would be perfectly normal under many operational circumstances to tie up the person you have been charged with neutralising. But not with a V6, that was strictly a terminate upon identification order. But a V6 was also a theoretical situation, or at least until today. Anthony's mind was working overtime, pulling memory files from the archives, grasping at names, faces and events that had led to he and his team standing in front of this peculiar woman. Nothing added up and he was concerned. In turn he knew his actions, out of character as they were, would also be unnerving his team, who were all waiting silently for his next order. The woman, Ebbe, was right, the next order, the overdue order, was a kill shot, three bullets to the brain, one to the heart, no margin for error.

"When did you work for the agency?" he asked instead, making a small hand gesture to his team requesting they lower their weapons.

"The agency?" Ebbe replied with apparently authentic ignorance. 

"Don't bullshit me lady. You know something," Anthony spat back, feeling a little impatience with this whole farcical operation spill out with his words.

"I'll ask you to mind your language sir," Ebbe replied calmly.

Anthony recoiled, unable to restrain his surprise at her concern for his use of words.

"And if you are not planning to kill me at present I would much prefer you retied my legs together rather than apart." Ebbe continued, taking advantage of the continuing silence.

Anthony glanced down at her jeans clad legs and without realising found himself nodding in agreement. A deft flick of his wrist advised Art that he wished him to do as the lady wished. From the corner of his eye he could see Cody sigh with disappointment that Anthony had not trusted him to do it. Tough shit kid, if this is some kind of trick, which I actually doubt, I don't want her breaking your damn neck and stealing your gun.

In less than a minute Art had untied her legs and retied them so her knees were clamped together and her feet were turned to one side neatly. Ebbe did not flinch or say a word and Art duly returned back to the doorway after a brief glance to Anthony to confirm he had checked that she was unarmed. 

"Better?" Anthony asked, allowing a hint of sarcasm to purposely seep out.

Ebbe gave a small nod.

"Perhaps now you are comfortable," Anthony began, "you would be so kind as to explain why the fu," Anthony caught himself about to swear and much to his and the team's surprise managed to swallow it back before it arrived, "why the government want you, your family and anyone who has associated with you in the last 3 months wiped from the face of the Earth?" 

Ebbe smiled, her thin lips curling slightly, her eyes sparkling with bright intelligence.

"Interesting choice of words, er..." Ebbe paused, presumably hoping to elicit a name by way of response. When none was forthcoming she continued regardless. "It is a truth, or more accurately a mystery about the Earth that has led you to me."

Anthony rolled his eyes impatiently. 

"Jesus lady, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Anthony replied angrily, finding her calm nature more and more unnerving, as if he were being tested by her.

"I won't talk to someone who is unable to converse politely," Ebbe replied stubbornly, her voice remaining steady and unaffected. "I feel it is probably for the best if you simply follow your orders."

This woman is certifiable Anthony thought to himself. Here I am offering her a chance to explain what this shit storm is all about but instead she would rather die because I said fuck. He turned back to the walls, not wanting to look at her for a second. As well as the moon there were numerous star charts, more news clippings about satellites that had been launched, probes sent into space and that satellite that had fallen to Earth not so long ago. He stared at it all for a good five minutes, trying to make sense of the scenario. He turned back to Ebbe, none the wiser. 

"You understand that by undertaking my orders, you, your family and friends will all die?" He asked, wanting her to be absolutely clear on the seriousness of the situation.

"I do," she replied. He studied her face and there appeared to be no emotional undercurrent, not even a hint of carefully repressed feelings such as those apparent in well trained field agents. "It isn't that I don't care sir," she started, again showing her spooky ability to apparently read his thoughts, "it is only that I have long been resigned to the fact that neither I, nor they shall likely live much longer."

Anthony sensed that those words had not only sent a shudder through his spine, but those of his team as well, all of whom seemed to shift uncomfortably. They were too well trained for this to have been spotted by a layman, but to Anthony it was clear that he was losing control of this situation. It was obvious to him that the brass had wanted a swift resolution for this very reason. Everything, absolutely everything, was wrong about this operation, from start to finish. 

"Aww shit," Anthony cursed under his breath. "Cody untie Miss Nystrom."

Cody paused, uncertain if he had heard right.

"Cody, dammit.You gone deaf son? Untie her!" Anthony hissed.

"Sir?" Cody was still unconvinced. Anthony expected this and it was why he had asked Cody, the others were too seasoned, too deep into the system to break. Cody was a sap and could be broken with a little pressure.

"Goddamn," Anthony bellowed, lifting his gun and pointing it at Cody, "release this woman immediately. We've made a mistake, this is not the person we were meant to eliminate."

"Sir?" Jake's voice boomed out. Here we go, Anthony told himself, swinging his gun in Jake's direction. Let's see how Art copes with this now.

"Kid, do what I said," Anthony urged, his sights now fixed upon Jake. Jake in turn had raised his semi and he was trained upon his boss.

"Sir, you are disobeying a direct order. I cannot allow this to happen," Jake barked.

From the corner of his eye Anthony tried to see what Art was going to do. He had known both men for over twenty years and although the job doesn't allow for friendship, he always felt Art and he had a similar thought process. Jake on the other hand was strictly an orders man. He did what he did for the money and the consequences never seemed to occur to him. Cody also seemed to be looking to Art for verification. The balance of power now lay not with Anthony but with what choice Art would make.

Anthony could see Cody's hands shaking. Ebbe, however, still seemed unnaturally calm amidst the intruders pointing guns at each other in her house.

"Cody, I am ordering you to release the lady as your superior officer," Anthony pressed again before turning his attention back to Jake. "Jake, you know the rules. In the field, under radio silence, the final decision rests with the mission leader and I have concluded that a mistake has been made."

"Sir, the woman has been identified as the target, sir. The only mistake sir, has been yours. A V6 is terminate with extreme prejudice sir." Jake barked back like he was still training with the drill Sergeant.

He really isn't human, Anthony concluded, wondering briefly whether to risk a wound or go for a kill. The second option was the sensible one because Jake was a tough son of a bitch and could cause a lot of trouble with even a major wound. But Anthony had no intention of dispatching a team member, he had actually hoped they would all be on board, but hadn't wanted to give them time to think about the possible consequences of breaking a V6.

"Jake, lower your weapon. Your mission leader has made his decision and you are not authorised to challenge it," came the gruff voice of Art, finally choosing his side. "Cody, do as he says, release the woman immediately."

Cody nervously nodded, giving a sideways glance to Jake, who didn't yet flinch, his gun still trained steadily on Anthony. The knots pulled apart easily, something all agents were taught early on, tie strong knots that cannot be wriggled out from, but that can be undone in seconds, with the right method, when needed.

Ebbe immediately stood, blocking the path of fire between Jake and Anthony. She gave a large stretch and then turned to Cody.

"Ah, that's much better. Thank you young man," she said, thrusting out her slender hand, grasping his and shaking it with surprising vigour. "Now, Mr Team leader," she began returning her attention to a bemused Anthony, "are you all going to shoot each other, or help me save the world?"

Chapter 1 - Part 1

Chapter 1

Anthony stared up at the night sky, trying to pick out The Plough. He stamped his feet and rubbed his hands as he did so, the cold beginning to penetrate through the heavy police jacket. His memory of the night sky was a little fuzzy, the last time he'd seriously studied it was using the constellation spinner his mum had bought him when he was about twelve. That was when he could visit his Uncle's farm and see the stars, unhindered by the orange glow of the city lights. That was many years ago. Can't see the damned thing for all the goddamn tea in China now, he cursed.

Anthony returned his gaze to the surrounding farm land he was currently staking out with three of his colleagues, checking he could still see the faint shadows of each. Art was leaning against a tall tree, long since dead and now only a deformed shadow of a trunk with jagged, twisted branches reaching to the skies. Jake was crouched to his right, binoculars trained on the dark farmhouse. Jesus, Anthony thought, he's been staring through those glasses for damn near three hours without moving a goddamn muscle, the man's not human.
But where the hell was Cody? Anthony had definitely seen him sitting with his back against the straw bales stacked up to the left just a few minutes before his little break to stargaze. He could still make out the bales, but Cody was remarkable in his absence. Damn kid, where's he buggered off to? Jesus.

Anthony looked down at his radio and considered flicking it on to do a check, but the brass had made it explicitly clear they were to maintain radio silence unless the situation became untenable. Was losing a team member untenable? Hell yes, but only if the team member was actually lost. Knowing Cody he's just gone for a whizz in the woods. If I break the silence and the little shit reappears it's my arse they'll tear open.

Anthony peered down at the ground, squinting in the murk, his breath puffing out in clouds of condensation. Christ, why do these scumbags choose the coldest damn night of the year to do whatever the hell the brass want us to see, he cursed as he spotted a decent sized pebble and grabbed it. With a deft, silent flick of his wrist the pebble went sailing over to Art, landing silently at his feet. Art looked over at Anthony and although it was too dark to make out, Anthony knew he had his 'what the hell are you playing at' face on. Anthony took great joy in getting Art to make that face, a serious, scrunched up look that was enhanced by his heavily lined and scarred skin, weathered as it was by a lifetime of excess. A subtle gesture and Art lifted a shadowed arm to signal he understood, before turning tail and disappearing into the dark woods.

Anthony turned his attention back to the farm house, still lit only by the bright stars above. The moon was absent tonight, perhaps the scumbags they were tailing thought that would give them greater cover. Arseholes, Anthony chuckled silently, you should watch the weather as well as the calendar, no goddamn cloud cover tonight.

Where the hell is that Plough?

A loud crack snapped him out of his search and with the speed of a panther he had grabbed his purported attacker, thrown him to the ground and pinned him down with his left knee.

"Christ, it's me!" a voice filled with fear squealed.

Anthony snorted haughtily and stood, offering his gloved hand to the cowering figure.

"What the hell?" Anthony hissed as low as his deep voice would allow while still maintaining a level of menace. The figure took his arm gratefully and a man in his mid-twenties was hoisted up as if he were a rag doll.

"I only went for a..."

Anthony put his forefinger to his lips and simply jabbed a finger at the man's chest before jabbing the same finger in the direction of the straw bales. The man nodded and turned to make his way. Anthony grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly, pointed at his own eyes before gesturing the same way to the young man.

That kid is gonna die before he's thirty, Anthony thought as he watched Cody trot back off to his post. How many times do I have to tell these new recruits, when you are on a stakeout, you are on a goddamn stakeout. If you need a piss, you hold it, or you do it. You never, never leave your goddamn post.

Before he could have another thought his ears picked up the sound of a truck. It was heading their way, winding down the dirt track that led to the farmhouse. He could hear from the engine that it was a Land Rover, not a new model, probably mid-eighties and well past it's use by date. His eyes swept his team members to make sure they had all heard. Thankfully they had, Art had returned silently to his post and even that sap Cody seemed to be aware, having sunk back into the shadows.

The high beam lights of the Land Rover cut through the trees, diffused by the light mist that hung in the air like incense. Art seemed to merge with the trunk he was standing by as the bouncing light hit it briefly, the vehicle turning into the driveway. I'm sure that man was a goddamn ninja in a past life, Anthony marvelled, himself unable to make out the man he knew had been there only seconds earlier.

The Land Rover roared to a halt outside the farmhouse and the door opened with a creak. A figure jumped out and seemed to stand by the vehicle, the lights still on, for an unusual amount of time. So long, in fact, that Anthony became to fear they had somehow been made. Who the hell was this guy anyway, Anthony asked, perturbed that his heart was starting to pick up pace. Screw you heart, he cursed, I know when I'm scared, don't you give me that bull.

At last the figure switched the engine off and made his way to the front door. Within a minute lights started to appear in various windows across the building, most of which were switched back off again not long after.

Is that it, Anthony wondered. Why the hell am I and my team freezing our nuts off out in this backwater farm? No real orders, no explanation, no time to survey or prepare. Just a secure message asking him to take three men and wait. No radios to be used, don't tell anyone else, just go. Go and wait. But for what goddammit?  An arsehole in a Land Rover? Well he's come home safe and sound, nice and cosy in his farm house. We're freezing our collective butts off out here.

The radio burst into life.

"Tango Alpha Victor. Target identified as Ebbe Nystrom. You have a go for V6. Repeat target identified. You have a go for V6. Over"

Anthony grabbed the radio in shock and held down the transmit button.

"You said V6, please confirm."

"Transmission terminated," came the reply.

Anthony was about to try the radio again, but stopped himself. He knew better than that. But he couldn't deny he was shaken. A genuine V6. No bugger had actually had to action a fucking V6 operation before. It was all a theoretical situation used for training. A goddamn test of morals and ethics and nothing more. Bastards. I wouldn't have brought that bloody kid if they'd warned me.

Taking a deep breath Anthony changed the broadcast channel on the shortwave and clicked on transmit.

"We have a go. Take down target with extreme prejudice," he barked without further hesitation.

Silently the team made their move towards the farm house. Anthony made a line for the front door, signalling to Art to find a way around the back. Cody was paired with Jake and the two made their way to a side entrance Anthony had scoped before the light had faded. The team moved with menacing efficiency, creeping over the pebbled drive with no sound.

A small charge was applied to each door and with precision timing each exploded with a muted puff of smoke. Tentatively Anthony and his team pushed the doors open with the nib of their semi-automatic rifles, before lifting them up and sweeping each area 180 degrees and moving through the cluttered corridors of the house.

The team all arrived simultaneously in the front facing room, which was a vast space, filled almost entirely with photographs, maps and piles upon piles of written documents. Anthony peered at the maps, intrigued, before turning to find himself faced with a collection of A3 high resolution photos of the moon, pasted to the wall to complete a gigantic and complete image of the moon's surface.

"What the hell is going on?" a small voice piped up, causing the four men to sweep around, their guns aloft. A flash and a deafening crack later and a frightened Cody dropped his gun to the floor in shock, running over to the lifeless body of the woman who had entered the room.

"Get away from her," Anthony bellowed, his gun still held aloft.

"But..." Cody began to protest.

Anthony stormed across the room in two strides and pushed Cody aside roughly with his booted foot. Tentatively Anthony then crouched beside the woman and while keeping his gun trained directly at her pale face, rifled through her pockets and then her clothing, but found nothing.

"Do it," he said, without turning, gun still trained on the woman.

Jake nodded and produced a small digital camera, which he used to take one snapshot of her face.

Seconds later Anthony's radio crackled back into life.

"Ebbe Nystrom, identity confirmed. Continue with V6. Transmission ends."

"A fucking V6?" Art bellowed furiously.

Anthony stood and turned to his team, nodding.

"What the hell did this chick do to deserve that?" Jake queried.

I wish I knew, Anthony thought to himself as he studied the patchwork images of the moon, anger and curiosity welling up in his stomach.

Prologue

Through a fogged helmet visor, Ebbe looked down upon the glistening oceans, dusty deserts and lush green forests far below. The heat in the suit was becoming intolerable, probably a malfunction in the heat exchanger, damaged during the last EVA. Her breathing was becoming shallow, the oxygen reserves beyond critical by now.

In a few minutes I'll be dead, she thought to herself, in her ever pragmatic way, but at least I shall have died trying to save the world, how many can lay claim to that? Far below the familiar shape of Africa was breaching the horizon and Ebbe was surprised to find a smile creep onto her weary face.

"Hello old friend," she said out loud, her voice husky and unrecognisable to her. "I'm so very sorry," she told the vast continent, the smile dropping as quickly as it had emerged.

Suddenly unable, or unwilling, to continue looking down upon the planet, as she continued her inexorable orbit around the Earth, being pulled further and further away from The Spartacus, Ebbe twisted herself so she instead could gaze upon the empty abyss behind her. It was a sight she had never reconciled herself with and if these were to be her last moments she may as well try one last time to make sense of the black void. After all, she pondered, that is where I will soon be heading, followed not long after by the entire human race.

The blackness was worse up here, where there was no atmospheric interference. It was just a dreadful nothing. Not even nothing, Ebbe concluded, because to say there was nothing, was to give it a name. This was beyond nothing, beyond naming, it was just the absence of light, the absence of colour. Yet there something was shining upon the planet's surface behind her. Something brought the days and nights. This blackness was impossible.

Her eyes seemed to ache as she peered into the abyss.

"I can see you," she croaked at the void defiantly, as if an otherworldly reply may come. None did. Instead she heard Nietzsche reply in a thick German accent, if you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you. "Gaze all you like, damn you," Ebbe tried to shout, a curious anger welling up in the pit of her stomach. Her head began to spin from the extra exertion and she realised the oxygen had finally been depleted. So, I am truly to become a human satellite, she concluded, a macabre image of her preserved corpse hurtling around the globe for years to come popping into her head. Except, she interrupted her own image to tell herself, who knows if there is time left even for that to be the case? Our mission has failed and now, I, Ebbe Nystrom, the last survivor of The Spartacus, will soon be joining my fellow crew members. Had we all known, she wondered, that we truly had no idea the scale of the problem, would we have tried regardless? Probably, she concluded, knowing in her own mind that all along that there was more happening than they could ever understand. But what choice? When faced with the apocalypse, you only have one choice, fight to the very end.

And here I am, at the end, Ebbe realised. Her lungs were crying out for fresh oxygen where there was none and her brain was already beginning to feel light and clouded. Images begin to flash into Ebbe's mind, first came Jorge, his face serious as always, then the school science block she had burned down when she was thirteen, next her red bike that had been stolen the day before she'd insured it, penguins on an African beach, the lump of lava Sam had proudly presented to her, people, places, things, all began to flash, fade and blur into one. But one image stayed, seemingly burned into her retinas. A door. I'm dying and all I can think about is a door, Ebbe puzzled drowsily, why a door? Why not my lover? My son?

A door. A door. A door.

Hell with this, Ebbe thought, assuming it to be her last. With the last reserves of energy she raised her left arm sluggishly and fumbled at the clasp to the side of her suit. The clumsy thick fingers on her glove slipped off the metal, but she persevered and managed to lift it to reveal a keyhole. Her right hand now searched a previously sealed compartment of the suit and from this a circular key was produced. Ebbe blanked out for a split second, her energy sapped, her whole body screaming for oxygen, her mind such a blur she was no longer sure if she was already dead, or simply dreaming. When she regained consciousness, she could see, from the corner of her fuzzy vision, the circular key drifting towards the marbled Earth. An arm, one she presumed to be her own, reached out and grabbed at the key. Ebbe saw the gloved hand sweep across and capture the escaping key. The arm pulled back towards her and suddenly seemed to belong to her again.

For what seemed like an eternity Ebbe struggled to fit the key into the hole in the suit. Finally the key slotted in and with a quick jerk she turned it to the right. The shell of the suit popped open with a fizz and immediately began to drift off in different directions. The sweltering heat was gone, replaced by an intense and penetrating cold, but the sudden shift in temperature seemed to jolt Ebbe back to reality.

My God, what have I done, she screamed internally, as her flesh began to expand, puffing Ebbe up so she began to resemble a female body builder.

Fifteen seconds. I have fifteen seconds, she repeated over and over and she began to kick towards the black abyss.

Fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds...