Day 2, 6:00 pm

Saturday, 30 March 2233

Cape Town, South Africa

“Urgh, what a stink!” Lydia complained. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive ten city blocks of this.”

Simeon finished lowering Lydia into the underground tunnel they would follow to access the EMASAR headquarters so they could “borrow” an aircraft for their trip to East Antarctica. “These tunnels were built in 1652 – they’re in surprisingly good condition considering they’re almost 600 years old.”

Peter quickly joined Lydia at the base of the tunnel, landing in the ankle-deep water with a splash. He then allowed Simeon to lower himself onto his shoulders before letting him drop to the floor.

Simeon quipped, “This is when your short frame is a distinct disadvantage, Peter.”

Peter swiped playfully at Simeon before the trio started making their way down the dark tunnel, their headlamps casting eerie shadows on the tunnel walls. The confined space was musty and humid, with a sheen of dampness lining the mouldy sides. Their sloshing footsteps in the shallow water were answered by corresponding echoes.

A giant rat scurried past them, causing Lydia to stifle a scream.

Peter laughed. “Miss Tough-as-nails finally found her nemesis.”

“I’ve fought off much bigger creatures, even lions,” Lydia retorted, “I’m just not a fan of rats, that’s all.”

The rat circled back to Lydia’s feet, and she squirmed just a little bit. “Guys ... this is a mighty weird-looking rat ... It has glowing red eyes.”

“Everybody freeze!” Simeon yelled. Then he whispered urgently, “These are not rats. They are sentinel robots with lasers. The first line of defence we must get past ... I should’ve guessed that EMASAR wouldn’t leave the tunnel undefended. Crossing paths with the rat must have triggered its sensors. Stay still, and it will eventually assume it was a false alert.”

After a few minutes, the sentinel rat appeared to lose interest and resumed its patrol.

“If we spot another one,” Simeon cautioned, “let’s make sure we stay clear of its eyes. That’s probably where the sensor beam is located.”

They carried on, more cautiously now, wondering what other security mechanisms they would have to avoid. As they gradually covered the two kilometres to the EMASAR castle, Simeon stopped occasionally to consult his tunnel map.

“Uh-oh ...” he exclaimed. “Quick, switch off your lights and shush!”

“What’s up now?” hissed Lydia. “More fake rats? Underground snakes with some electronic mechanism?”

“Two unexpected issues: there’s a metal grate just before the fortress section and a camera with a red light.”

“Knock out the camera first, then we sort out the metal barrier,” Peter whispered.

“No, don’t shoot it,” suggested Lydia, “or they’ll realise they’ve lost the signal and will surely send someone to check what’s going on. Let’s rather spray the lens with silicone, which won’t trigger an off-line alarm. I wonder how we will even get close to it without being seen?”

Simeon quickly looked up the make and model of the camera on his handheld supercomputer. “Don’t worry. This type of camera is easy to override.” He winked at her and promptly pulled out an infrared laser and directed its beam at the camera lens, which prevented it from detecting activity. With a flick of two fingers of his other hand, he motioned for Lydia to inch towards the camera.

Lydia moved swiftly, reaching across the grate to permanently blind the lens with black silicone spray. A camera operator would simply assume they were seeing the usual darkness of the tunnel.

With the camera disabled, Peter began cutting the metal grate with a portable blowtorch. They shielded their eyes from the bright red glow. The metal was very thick, and Peter had just enough gas to slice a narrow opening. “I’m out of blowtorch gas, so this will have to do. Simeon, you go first, then I’ll push Lydia through.”

“You’re the one who needs pushing, though,” Lydia bit back a laugh as Peter tried to fold his broad shoulders and biceps over his enormous chest. Peter had always been a big, burly, imposing, square chunk of a soldier. He was slightly short, but made up for his height by regularly lifting weights at the EMASAR military gym.

Simeon, on the other hand, slipped easily through the gap and reached out a hand to help Lydia. Lydia wriggled through, carefully avoiding her clothes catching on the sharp edges. Safely on the other side, Lydia and Simeon watched Peter’s attempts to squeeze through the gap. He grunted, wiggled and twisted, all to no avail. He looked at them with a dismayed expression.

Simeon tugged his friend by the shoulders. “Peter, there is more to life than pumping iron and eating pap and boerewors all day.”

Peter tried once again to squeeze his bulky frame through the opening but in vain.

“First of all,” he grunted, “most of South Africa is raised on pap and boerewors. And secondly, it’s no use, guys. I’m not going to fit through this hole. This is where my journey ends.”

Peter turned to Lydia, his face contorted from the effort of trying to squeeze through and his legs kicking uselessly behind him.

“Not an option, Peter,” whispered Lydia sternly. “We need a full team for this.”

Simeon pushed Peter back.

Suddenly, without warning, Simeon grabbed Peter’s shoulders and, instead of trying to pull him through, shoved him straight back to the other side. Peter sat back in stunned silence, but Lydia was aghast: “What the ...?”

“Wait, wait ...” He put his finger to his lips in a hush-signal and smiled at her. “I have an idea ... Peter, strip down to your underwear to reduce some of the, er, bulk, and then spread this oil on your body to lubricate yourself.”

Simeon glanced anxiously at his mission timer. They had already lost 15 minutes to unexpected curveballs and had only five minutes of the tactical buffer he had planned remaining. As an experienced soldier, he knew that delays increased the number of variables they would have to deal with.

Peter quickly did as Simeon suggested. And, relieved, the other two watched as he wriggled through on his second attempt. On landing, he gently swiped a fist at Lydia, who had been giggling quietly at his undignified manoeuvres. Her eyes were wet with amusement – the first time she had allowed a sliver of humour into an otherwise depressing day.

After Peter had dressed, they walked one more block and reached the base of the EMASAR building. Simeon checked his map for the last time and immediately recognised the entry point he had previously sketched. Finally, something was going to plan!

“I reckon the floor is at its weakest here. If we dislodge the concrete and rocky soil up here, we should be able to push out the marble tile above.”

Simeon pulled out his crowbar and took the first swing at a 45-degree angle above their heads. The three took turns to dig away quietly. Simeon only allowed them short bursts of rest before prodding them on again. Their training had drilled endurance and persistence through moments such as this when they felt they had reached their limits. Dripping with sweat and shoulders aching from the effort, they were relieved to finally make out the muddy outline of a tile above their heads.

Peter scrambled up and gingerly began moving the tile out of the way. As he shifted it, light from above filtered into the tunnel from the underground plant room of the building above. Simeon had made sure that they would emerge in a low-activity part of the EMASAR complex. There was a dull hum from the HVAC, the centralised heating, ventilation and air-conditioning system, which pulsated all day to manage the building’s air and water temperatures. Peter popped his head above to check that the coast was clear. Seeing nothing to cause alarm, he hoisted himself up quietly. “All good,” he whispered down to the others. “You guys can come up.”

Lydia shimmied up the gap, stopping momentarily to shake off the mud and cobwebs. Then she and Peter reached down for Simeon, and once all three were up, they carefully pushed the marble tile back into position. Simeon pointed out the ducts leading from the HVAC. “That, team, is our way up to the twenty-third floor.” They crept closer to the duct and searched for a panel that could be opened for their ascent.

Without warning, the door creaked open, flooding the room with unwanted light from the adjoining corridor – a maintenance official on a routine inspection. As the trio huddled on the other side of the humming plant, they watched his legs pacing up and down as he tinkered with some settings. Then, as he started to make his way around to their side, he paused at the tile that had been shifted, surprised to see muddy footprints and signs of a break-in. He immediately reached for his two-way radio.

Peter whispered to Lydia and Simeon: “We must stop him before a whole army descends on us.”

Lydia motioned for the two men to sneak up behind the maintenance guy while she created a diversion. She quickly stood up and strolled around the HVAC, greeting the stunned official as if she knew him. “Larry, I didn’t realise you were working on Easter Saturday. Your wife must be waiting for you to get home?”

“I ... I’m not ... Larry,” the heavily bearded man stuttered, caught off guard by Lydia’s unexpected appearance and bold approach. But the reality of the situation quickly dawned on him when he noticed Lydia’s muddy shoes and finally connected the dots. He started yelling, “Security ...!” but his cry was cut short as Simeon came up behind him and smothered his face with a cloth doused in a sedative.

Peter gently wrestled the man to the floor. He struggled weakly as they waited for the sedative to set in, and within a second, the maintenance guy was out cold, snoring soundly. Peter dragged him out of sight, depositing him behind a box of tools.

“We’ve already lost a lot of time, and someone might have overheard this guy shouting; let’s go,” Simeon whispered urgently.

They cleared the evidence of their break-in before heading to the ducts above the HVAC. There, they found a panel they could open and fit into. They then activated the magnetic lining in their shoes and reached into their bags for the magnetic climbing handholds. Simeon led the way. The handholds were designed to activate an electromagnetic force when in contact with metal, and a quick flick could temporarily deactivate the magnet to allow the user to climb and reach up. Combined with the shoe lining, this would allow them to traverse up the 23-floor vertical metal duct without losing grip and tumbling straight back down.

Lydia closed the panel behind her and followed the two men up. As an experienced climber, she was entirely in her element, unlike Peter, who seemed very unsteady. Peter looked down to check on her and almost had a panic attack when he saw the seven-floor vertical drop.

“Don’t look down,” Lydia urged him on. “Just focus on your next step, okay?”

To reach the aircraft hangar on the twenty-third floor, she worked out that they would have to climb 25 floors, including the two basement floors they had started in. “I’m so glad I love climbing – I’ll pretend this is one of those demanding Drakensberg ranges.”

It took about two minutes to make their way through each floor, and they were only occasionally slowed down by sharp angle turns in the network of ducts. It would be almost an hour before they made it all the way up. They had to be completely silent as any talk might be overhead by workers through the air-conditioning inlets of the offices around them. Peter arduously endured the monotonous tap-tap-tapping of their vertical ascent, one slow step after the next, deep in his own thoughts as his body screamed at the relentless effort demanded of it. Peter watched his colleagues with annoyance. Lydia’s lean, toned body was better suited to a vertical ascent than his heavy, bulging muscles. Simeon, on the other hand, enjoyed the best of both worlds as his tall, wiry frame covered the distance twice as fast.

After what felt like an entire day, they finally came face to face with the final grate in the tunnel, looking down on Floor 23. Simeon pushed open the hatch and, after ensuring that all was clear, leapt down. Once Peter and Lydia landed beside him, he motioned them to wait while he investigated the security system on that floor.

From their earlier planning, he knew that the instant they stepped into the room, a motion sensor would activate an alarm to alert the guard in the basement. The guard would presumably first check whether it was a false alarm and then urgently make his way up via the lift. He would arrive within 180 seconds if there were no delays.

A series of red dots along the walls indicated hidden security laser rays. Reaching into his bag, Simeon pulled out a can of active mist spray. He placed the can on the ground and activated it. It quickly released a fine stream of water vapour, which made all the laser beams in the room visible. At the same time, in anticipation of the arrival of the security guard, Simeon started a 160-second timer on his watch.

Satisfied with his pre-planning, Simeon urgently motioned for the team to follow him. They had to alternately jump, side-hop and belly crawl to avoid the lasers, which would burn their skin and activate a further alarm. The laser alarm would confirm that there was a definite incursion, which would attract not one guard but an entire brigade.

Lined up in the large hangar before them was a variety of aircraft. Within seconds, Lydia pointed out the one they would have to “borrow”. The craft was a low-flying plane in the shape of the letter M, with ground-boring capabilities. Referred to as a Flying M because of its shape and how its rear twin rudder system was arranged, it was powered by a carbon-dioxide hydrogenation reactor and featured a 100 000-watt laser-weapons system. Although one of the slowest in the fleet, it sacrificed speed for brute strength and unlimited range and would be perfectly suited to their Antarctic mission – certainly a better option than the Flying V, which was incredibly fast but had limited utility once on the ground.

On board, Lydia quickly refamiliarised herself with the controls and initiated the pre-flight routine while Peter scoured the back of the seven-metre-long plane to determine what equipment it came with. He smiled when he found a sleeping area, a coffee machine and a small fridge stocked with meal kits – all his creature comforts provided for.

While Lydia and Peter focused on getting the craft started, Simeon set off to collect their favourite humanoid robot, JJ7, who docked to a charging station at the back of the hangar. His timer showed that 90 seconds had elapsed, with no more than a further 90 seconds remaining before the guard arrived. He undocked JJ7 and powered him up. JJ7’s eyes flickered open, and his advanced artificial intelligence system booted up within seconds.

“JJ7, we’re off on an urgent mission, so let’s go ... Quickly.”

“Good evening, Simeon. I have no missions scheduled on my calendar. Please provide the mission code.”

“Erm, let’s just go ... You can always source the mission details later. Maybe your system hasn’t refreshed yet.”

“Negative. I cannot proceed without the mission protocol details and the passcode.”

Simeon sighed and glanced at his watch, realising that another 15 seconds had been wasted. He had no choice but to override JJ7’s systems because persuading him to join them would take too long. He reached into the compartment in JJ7’s back and found the complex array of override controls. Working from memory, he activated the override sequence, which would be active for another 15 minutes within five seconds. The override protocol forced a humanoid robot to take orders without questioning, but only for a limited time. It was designed for emergencies, such as preventing the robot’s natural self-preservation programming from activating in human life-threatening circumstances.

JJ7 obediently followed Simeon, but now, they had only 30 seconds left. They ran to the Flying M, which was already rumbling to life. Multiple alarms began sounding, and the numbers above the elevator doors started to flash in quick succession ... 4, 5, 6 ... which meant several guards were already on their way. They must have tripped a laser alarm. Simeon and JJ7 scrambled through the rear door of the Flying M, and as it closed behind them, they saw that Lydia had activated the mechanism that would open the hangar door. The elevator numbers changed rapidly ... 15 ,16 ,17 ,18 ... Glancing furtively in the direction of the danger making its way up via the elevator, it seemed like an eternity before the hangar door slowly opened, revealing a partly cloudy sky dotted with stars, a blanket of cloud swirling around Table Mountain.

Eventually, the hangar door opened enough to allow them to exit. Lydia pushed the throttle to full power and began releasing the brakes. She was alarmed to see a dozen guards pouring out of the elevators, firearms ready. She released all the brakes, and the plane finally sped to the door. Although she had speed on their side, there was no way the guards would miss such a mammoth target, and she realised that they would be downed in a hail of armour-penetrating bullets within seconds.

Then, to Lydia’s dismay, Captain Cornelius Joshua came into frame near the door. He made eye contact with her, his eyes boring into hers with inscrutable emotion. She knew that look, which, without words, accused her of betrayal, theft and subterfuge. A look that revived in her the shame and self-loathing stemming from a decades-old transgression she had been struggling to forget. Wracked with guilt and remorse, she hesitated.

“We’ve come this far already,” Peter urged Lydia. “We can’t let Micah down.”

Peter and Simeon stared at her, awaiting direction. Blast off, and the guards could open fire. Surrender, and they would all be arrested immediately. They were ruined either way. With tears of remorse rolling down her cheeks, Lydia resumed full power. Captain Cornelius shook his head, and Lydia would never forget the look he gave her. Although they were in violation of the law, defying protocol and contravening his direct orders, he would allow no harm to come to them, let alone for them to be killed, despite Lydia’s defiance. He raised his hand and signalled for the guards to lower their weapons and step down as the team of four blasted off, the glow of their engines leaving a trail of thick heat in its wake.

Cornelius reached for his handheld electronic device and activated a tracker inside JJ7. He would constantly know where they were, what they were up to and where they were heading next. The bewildered guards looked at each other, curious as to why the captain had allowed the fleeing aircraft to exit. He instructed them to return to their stations.

“Should we report the theft to the Air Force?” questioned one of the guards.

Cornelius shook his head. “No, we will be able to retrieve the aircraft. They will face a court martial when they return.”

The captain gazed at the quickly dimming dot of the Flying M. Lydia had always been hard-headed but fiercely loyal to Micah. He should have anticipated she might do something reckless. Appropriation of international assets without permission put her reputation and career on the line. An independent spirit, she hadn’t lasted long in the army despite her above-average expertise and tenacity. However, she had gained enough experience and a top-level security clearance that would have come in handy in the next phase of her career. Captain Cornelius had previously admired the brave girl’s astonishing physical and mental abilities. He was unsure how to interpret her behaviour and wondered what the legal consequences would be. The girl didn’t belong in jail. Her accomplices’ careers would probably be ruined as well.