Now I Can See
Hiccup & Eleanor - Part 2 - Chapter 1
This is Hiccup & Eleanor, book two of The White Age, which I will be releasing as a serial - with one chapter per week - over the coming months. You can also preorder the book here or catch up on Substack here.
Book one, Absolution, is available for purchase on Amazon, or you can catch up here.
i)
Hampshire, England
29th September 2074
“Fuck!” Roken roared aloud as the plane glanced off the trees and arced away into the sky. Three bullets should have been enough to bring that plane to a stop. He had blown out the front tyre and then nearly removed the landing gear entirely, but it was no use. Any human would have struggled to get the plane under control as his high-velocity shots had connected, but Robots make damn good pilots, he thought to himself bitterly. Who the hell is the girl? What on Earth is he doing?
The plane was gone, and he had to chase it as quickly as possible. He climbed over the three-metre-high fence, with his rifle over his shoulder, and the pain in his side vibrating softly beneath the numbing of morphine. As he hit the ground, he could hear the grumble of multiple diesel engines spluttering into life, his gunshots had been heard by Zero’s other pursuers and now they would be in pursuit of him. His eyes followed the noises, the wailing sirens and the maniacal shouting of anger, where he could see the burning, collapsed remains of a tower and, in front of that, plumes of dust as trucks stormed their way down the runway in his direction. Zero was gone and now he was the enemy, the outsider. This could go badly, Roken thought.
He moved quickly into an overgrown shrub behind him, that half-consumed the chain-linked fence, and glanced down the scope of his rifle at the onrushing convoy. There were two options: stand and fight or try to run. He could see three trucks, overladen with soldiers: at least 12, at a guess. He'd be lucky to come out of any skirmish alive, or to get back over the fence and away into the woodland before being seen, so he leant his rifle against the barrier and stepped out into the fading sunlight.
The first truck pulled up aggressively and three men jumped out carrying rifles. The first of them was a tall man with thick, curly, blonde hair. He was flanked by a short, black man and an older man with round glasses and a bald head. The blonde man was furious. Roken stood at the perimeter fence, with his hands raised beside his head. They each trained their gun on him and edged closer, fanning out to surround him in a semi-circle.
“Who the fuck are you?” The blonde man spoke first in a rich, American accent, “what are you doing here?”
“I’m a bounty hunter. I’m chasing them.” He pointed in the direction Zero and the girl had flown.
“And who are they?” The blonde man spat, and saliva clung to his chin.
“They are assassins, they fled here from France.” Roken fixed his eye. The lies were easy for him to come by; he knew that the Americans would hate the UNA having anything to do with England. Their paranoia and fear of anything alien to them was dangerous and that, paired with the radiation madness, was a lethal combination. Roken’s side ached with each pronounced beat of his heart; he knew that he was on a tightrope with these people and one false move would mean death.
“Liar.” He fired a bullet barely a foot over Roken’s head and into the trees. It chimed off the fence and made it sing. The gunshot seemed to echo for miles. “Get on your knees. Hands on your head.” He spat again and Roken obliged. The three men moved closer and surrounded him. “I saw inside the plane. It was a robot and that fucking little girl.” He crouched in front of Roken and leaned forward, lowering his gun to the ground. “Who. Are. They.” He moved his face within an inch of Roken’s. His breath was coarse, and his eyes were wide with a wild anger. This is not a man for me to mess with, Roken thought. He knew that look, he had seen it before, it was the sheer terror and rage of war, and it was not something to be taken lightly.
“I've been tracking the robot for days. I have no idea who the girl is.” Roken was glad his voice remained steady as he spoke in reply.
“Why are you tracking a robot?” The blonde man spoke through gritted teeth as though they might shatter.
“He's faulty. And potentially dangerous.” Roken stared at the ground as he spoke, but he could feel the grin of recognition spread across the blonde man’s face. His story was threadbare, and he knew it. Why would anybody be tracking a robot in England, unless it belonged to the UNA? Idiot.
“You're UNA?” He said with a laugh. He covered his face with a dirty hand to stifle his happiness. “This is amazing. Zoë is going to love this.” Roken kept his head bowed. This was going south and quickly. His mind raced to formulate a plan, but he couldn't shake the same question which repeated itself as it raced around his head. Who the fuck is the little girl? “Was it you that bandaged the girl’s arm?”
“I don’t know who the girl is.” Roken frowned and felt relief at not having to lie again. The blonde soldier landed a heavy punch on his chin and sent him spinning to the dirt. He rose back to his knees, slowly, flexing his jaw against the ringing pain. His attacker smiled and turned away. Two more heavily armoured, diesel trucks pulled up and four soldiers exited each of them. They paced a wider semicircle around him, blocking every possible exit. His only escape was to climb the fence behind him again, but he would be riddled with bullets before he found his first handhold. He saw the blonde man walk over to a woman who had now arrived. This must be Zoë. She stared at Roken as the blonde man spoke into her ear, he was still grinning wildly. He's on the brink of madness, Roken thought. Zoë did not smile. She just stared. She seemed more in control of her faculties than the others, though perhaps she is just better able to channel her feelings into anger at me, Roken thought, swallowing hard.
Zoë approached him, slowly; purposefully. Her eyes were hard, and her right hand rested on the holstered handgun on her right hip. Her hair was jet black and it sat loosely on her shoulders, unwashed and wild.
“You're UNA?”
“Yes.” She punched him hard in the stomach and he reeled back into the fence, winded. Roken clawed at the air for a breath and wondered if his stitches had burst, despite the tight bandages that wrapped his midriff. She spat on the floor at his feet.
“How dare you just walk in here. You have no place here.” Her voice was measured in spite of her anger.
“I was trying to stop-”
“I know, you're chasing a robot and a little girl. Except that is just insane!” She stepped forward again and Roken flinched. “How can you be outsmarted by a robot and a little girl?” She whispered, her face barely an inch from his own.
“Forgive me if I am wrong, Zoë, but didn't you just get outsmarted by a robot and a little girl?” Roken said with a chuckle. The next two punches onto his abdomen ripped open his stitches and caused him to double up and sink to the floor. Play nice, Roken! She spat on him as he lay crumpled and moaning in the dusty floor before drawing her handgun, cocking it and taking aim at his head.
“Tell me what is going on here or I will blow your head off.” Her voice was almost inaudible as it fought its way through her tightly clenched teeth. Her mouth frothed with each syllable and saliva oozed out onto her lips. If he hadn't already known it, he knew now for sure that these people had lost their minds. He had to tread more carefully if he were to get away from this airfield alive. He lay quietly, thinking, trying to fathom how he was going to get out of this. “Quickly!” She screamed as she kicked a pile of dusty soil into his face, which caused him to choke and splutter.
ii)
Barcelona, Spain
30th May 2058
“Dust everywhere.” Roken said, running his finger across the bonnet of the jeep and holding up the thick, orange residue. “Why is this taking so long?” He slumped into the passenger seat and removed his sunglasses.
“You need to relax.” Eduardo said, as he examined his face in the rear-view mirror, attempting to squeeze a tiny spot on his chin. His black hair was slicked back sharply and his round, olive-skinned face shone with the heat of midday Barcelona. Roken eyed him, impatiently. They had been called to the Swiss embassy for a briefing, or at least Roken had, but it was compulsory for soldiers to remain in pairs when out in the city. Eduardo was hard work; his boundless enthusiasm and positivity drove Roken mad. This is the city you grew up in and it's now a warzone, Roken thought, how the fuck can you be so happy? “What have you done this time to upset mummy?” Eduardo asked, showing Roken his huge, smiling, white teeth.
“Fuck off.” Roken slumped in his seat and stared at the building beside them. It was ancient: over a hundred years old. It was scarred with war; bullet-holes ran sporadically across its width, interrupted briefly by a long defunct ATM. Roken imagined the residents who had been lined up in this exact spot and then mowed down by firing squad. It made his stomach turn and he shook the thought away.
“You think you’re being sent home?”
“I hope not.”
“Why would you want to stay here? This place is dead. There is no fight left here.” Eduardo's smile filled Roken with anger. The war isn't over, it is just out of sight. Why won't he understand that? It was easier to ignore him than to get into another argument over the state of his beloved Spain. “Plus, it’s too hot here for Icelanders.” The door of the embassy to their left snapped open and a head appeared from within. It nodded once at Roken and then disappeared.
“That's me. Don't kill anyone while I'm gone.” He leapt out of the jeep and jogged around to the still open door.
“Uh huh.” Eduardo mumbled as he checked his teeth in the mirror.
iii)
A short, sweaty man wearing an ill-fitting suit guided Roken down the long, central corridor of the Swiss embassy. Thick, wooden doors hid twelve rooms which they passed hurriedly. Swiss flags hung on the wall beside the flags of the newly formed UNA, who had commandeered the embassy for their political gains and as a stronghold against the, now retreating, Faith. Posters was plastered on the walls with repeated words like, “hope”, “humanity, “reason” and “understanding” and Roken shook his head at their brazen, optimistic propaganda. Too little, too late, he thought.
Roken had walked this route hundreds of times since he had been here; he didn't need an escort. They still didn't trust him, he doubted if any of these people ever would. They climbed a flight of stairs, and the short man stopped in front of the first open door, guiding Roken in without meeting his eye, a look of disdain tattooed on his face.
“Merci beau coup.” Roken said, bowing. The man scurried off with a loud snort.
Roken entered the room and saw his mother at her over-sized, oak desk, scribbling on one of a towering pile of documents. She didn't notice his arrival until he was stood in front of her, looming over her diminutive stature.
“Oh, Roken.” His mother said, her eyes betraying no emotion, her voice steady and stern. Her tone was powerful and sent Roken back to his 12-year-old self. She had so much power over him, even with the utterance of a handful of syllables. She rose from her seat with the assistance of the desk; she had begun to look her age. Her suit was adorned with her various badges, which glistened in the sunlight that poured in through the numerous floor-to-ceiling windows: golds, silvers and reds. Roken doubted he'd ever seen her without them on; her pride was as unfaltering as her callousness. “How are you?” It was a flippant question, one to which she did not care for the answer, as though she were asking a waiter, or a bellboy. She tucked her messy, dyed-black hair behind one ear and forced a smile at her son.
“I’m okay, Sara. A little bored.”
“Ah, the war is over.” She waved her hand at him flippantly, once again distracted by the paperwork before her.
“It's not over-”
“Yes, it's just out of sight, I know, I know. But still, there's very little requirement for you to be here anymore. For any of our soldiers to be here anymore, especially the good ones.” She smiled naturally at Roken for the first time today. He gave her a quizzical look, asking for her to fill in the gaps. “I need you in Switzerland. Immediately.” She stared at her desk, trying hard to not meet his eye, “something has come up and I need you at Base Camp 9.” Now she fixed his eye, challenging him to retort, to fight back, but he knew it would be fruitless. He gritted his teeth and nodded softly. He loved Spain, and would have liked to stay, but he knew the war was being fought harder elsewhere; he could go and see combat and that excited him.
“What is it that has come up?” He kept his voice cold and indifferent as his mind ran through the possibilities and tried to control his rising adrenaline.
“Now, that's the tricky part. I'm afraid I can't give you all of the details.” She leant on the desk with both hands and took several deep breaths. She was clearly struggling with this; there was something she was finding it difficult to say. “Look, Roken, I've never been any good at being a mum, at doing this. I tried my best; I want you to know that.” She fixed his eye again and he nodded, lost for words. His mother had never spoken like this before. “Your father is dying, and he would like to meet you.” She turned to face the window behind her.
His stomach lurched and his chest seemed to fall away as he absorbed what his mother had just said. Roken had never met his father, he had always just assumed him to be dead. His mother would never mention him and, when he was a child, deflect any queries which might have arisen. There was too much for his mind to handle in one go and he suddenly wished for a seat.
“I'm sorry I've never told you about him,” Sara said, seemingly to no one, “he left me when I was pregnant, and I never told him about you. It's my fault.” She sniffled as she spoke, and her head dropped. Roken had never seen his mother cry, she was the strongest person he knew. Dealing with this situation was not something in which he was well versed. He hesitated and then decided to remain on his side of the desk. She turned back to face him after wiping her eyes. “Will you meet him? Please.”
“I don't know what to think. Or say.” Words seemed to fail him. How does she expect me to respond to this. I didn't know I had a father until now. This isn't fair!
“Please, Roken.” Sara rounded the desk and approached him, arms outstretched as she tried to placate her son, “I have failed you your entire life, please let this be some amends.”
“Amends?” Roken placed his hands on her shoulders; he was at least a head taller than her, holding her back. “Why are you doing this now?”
“He needs you. We need you. We need someone we can trust, someone strong. We need you.” Her hands raised up and found his cheeks, only then did he realise that they were wet with tears. “He wants to meet his son. He has only known you exist for a few weeks. I've told him all about you.” A smile found her wrinkled lips as she searched his eyes for a response.
“Where is he?”
“He's upstairs, in the infirmary. Will you go to him?” Roken grabbed his mother’s wrists and lowered her arms to her sides. He nodded once and walked past her, towards the door. “I'm leaving now, for Rabat.” She spoke after him, “I'll be gone for a while.” He paused for a brief moment but left the room without turning around.
iv)
Hampshire, England
29th September 2074
“Get up!” Zoë barked, after Roken had repeated the story he had made up for the blonde soldier. Using the fence, Roken obliged. She turned away to the bald man beside her, “if he moves, shoot him in the face.” The bald man raised the barrel of his rifle into Roken’s eye-line and Roken stayed perfectly still. Zoë walked away to the first jeep with the blonde American. Their heads were bent close together and they muttered in panicked, inaudible tones. I'm running out of time, Roken thought, I need to do something. I need to get away before I get taken to a superior officer. I will be hung, drawn and quartered as the scapegoat for this mess.
“How long have you been stationed here?” He asked the bald man, the only soldier who remained in earshot. A flicker of acknowledgement was replaced by stony silence. Roken pressed on, “A year?” No response. “Two years? More?” Their eyes met for the briefest moment. Bingo. “Wow. That's intense.” He felt more blood trickle down his back from his reopened wound as he pressed on. “How many teeth have you lost?” Again, their eyes met. “At least half a dozen, right? That's the radiation. I bet you had more hair when you got here too?” The bald man’s face reddened, and his eyes began to water. This guy is on the edge. “You're going to die here. And nobody will care.” Roken whispered the last words, and the bald man stared at him, a single tear running down his cheek. He lowered his gun by an inch, and then two. Now or never.
Roken swung his head and connected with the bridge of the bald man’s nose. It crunched under the force, as Roken palmed away the rifle’s barrel, and the man sunk to his knees. The soldier to the right spun around and raised his rifle. Before he could fire, Roken aimed a kick at his hand, sending the gun flying, and then another to the soldier’s right knee. It buckled and the accompanying scream was grimly satisfying. Now all eyes were on him. Dropping down to one knee, he picked up the rifle he had kicked and rose it to his shoulder. He flicked the barrel from one person to the next: a silent threat. The soldier, whose knee Roken had buckled, was sobbing softly beside him. The bald man lay in silence, cradling his nose with two hands and staring up at the sky. Roken could see the blonde man had his hand on his holstered gun, the hint of a smile still visible on his face. He's going to go first.
“Now, I need to take one of these jeeps,” Roken said, loud enough so all could hear. The collapsing tower had engulfed the base in smoke and flame, including many of the remaining aircraft. Even if I knew how to fly, it’s unlikely any of those planes are fit for purpose any longer. “Like I said, I need to follow that plane. I don't give a fuck if you let me go or if I leave you all here dying in the dirt. It's up to you.” His speech was met with silence.
But then the blonde man lost his nerve. He drew his handgun quickly, but not quickly enough. Roken fired three bullets into his neck, chest and stomach and he feel back into the Jeep. Blood splattered onto Zoë, but she barely flinched; she just continued to stare at Roken. Roken’s victim slid down the side of the truck and landed limply onto the dusty floor. Six hundred and thirty-seven. A stillness hung in the air with only the distant commotion of the collapsed tower and the ever-droning siren for sound. Roken eyed each of the remaining soldiers in turn, waiting for one of them to flinch. Nothing happened.
“Take me with you.” Zoë said.
“That was not one of the options, lady. I’m going alone.” Roken eyed her while weighing her possible motives. It must be a trick. She going to kill me as soon as I turn my back.
“Take me with you,” she repeated, drawing her gun a lightning speed from her own holster and placing the barrel to her right temple, “or I pull the trigger.”
Roken hesitated. I might as well let her kill herself, he thought. I can’t do that, can I? This place really is getting to me.
“Why?”
“This place is death. I leave with you, or I die. I have nothing to lose. What will it be?” Roken’s mind raced. He could take her with him and then leave her somewhere on the way. That seemed a better option than letting her kill herself. She had given him no choice.
“What about these guys?” He gestured at the remaining soldiers surrounding them, each poised to shoot.
“Disarm.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but they all immediately removed the magazines from their rifles and threw the separated parts down onto the ground. “Okay?”
“Okay.” They both lowered their weapons in unison, without breaking eye contact. Zoë re-holstered her pistol and Roken hung the rifle from his shoulder. “Let's go.” The surrounding soldiers stared at the ground, a look a resignation on their faces. Roken walked forward and climbed into the driver’s seat of the closest Jeep. Zoë looked at each of the soldiers and then over her shoulder at the collapsed tower in the distance, which oozed smoke, before opening the passenger door and joining Roken. The diesel engine spluttered into life and churned up a great plume of dust as the Jeep sped away down the runway towards the looming forest ahead.
v)
Barcelona, Spain
30th May 2058
There were several machines linked to the dying man in the bed. They each made their own, distinct noise, which created a cacophony of life support. Hanging from a bedpost was a small white board, which had ‘Dr. Ralph Symonds’ scrawled hastily across its centre. Roken edged into the otherwise empty room, as his heart drummed in his chest and his head wrestled with the fear of what was facing him. What am I doing here? What am I going to say to him? As he reached his father’s bedside, he could see the marks of death on the man. Blue and purple veins, barely concealed by threadbare skin, clawed at his temples and cheeks. Frosty stubble formed patches on his face like ice-flakes on a window. The shallow, rasping breath of the old man seemed to become louder than the tireless machines to which he was linked. The man inhabited death, he was not dying, he was already gone. His eyes opened slowly. White, yellow and musty, they stared at Roken.
“Son?” The voice was an undulation of difficult breath, barely audible, barely understandable. Roken leaned in closely.
“It’s Roken.” The controlled whisper still felt too loud as it left his mouth. The ghost of a smile danced on his father’s lips.
“I wish that I had known you.” Every word was a struggle, but Roken felt he didn’t need to work hard to hear them. His entire being was focused on every syllable; he had been waiting his entire life for this moment.
“How long do you have left?” This caused his father, Ralph, to smile.
“I should be dead already, son. I’ll be going soon.” His voice was British and held a weight of dignity, in spite of his fading state. My father is British. A doctor? How bizarre. He had always assumed him to have also been Icelandic, and probably a soldier.
“Sara said you needed me?” Roken wanted to get away from here, to never see this man again, to not have to deal with the pain he could feel rising in his chest. His father fell quiet and stared at the ceiling for several moments, he was deep in thought: trepidatious.
“I am worried I have created a monster. And I need you to make sure that I haven’t.” His lips shivered with each breath that rattled past them.
“I don’t understand.” Roken shook his head as he spoke, his eyes darting from one colourful machine to the next.
“Did Sara tell you anything of my work?” He locked his son with cold, hard eyes as he spoke; a rare lucidity overwhelming him.
“No.” Roken hadn’t had a chance to wonder why his father would be here in Barcelona, why he would be in this embassy. It made no sense if he wasn’t involved in the war.
“I design and build robots for military use. I have done for fifty years.” His eyes widened as his mind searched through clouded memories. “Every robot you see in this war, and many besides, were designed by my hand, or my wife’s.” He’s married to somebody else. He left me and my mother and is married to another person, Roken could feel anger sweep over him as he considered his stolen life. “But there is one that I have given too much life to. Initially, it was a test, to see how far I could push the boundaries of their intelligence. But…” He stopped talking and began coughing violently, his whole body shuddering with each hack. He wiped his mouth with a withering palm and continued, “he is too strong. Too… human. If he is ever untethered, then he will be able to create his own race that will wipe out humanity. For good. I have monitored him for years and he has shown no sign of ill-behaviour yet. But he is still young, and one false move might allow him to realise his full, endless, potential.”
“What can I do?” Roken was lost, unable to find his feet in this new world in which he found himself. He was struggling to understand what his place was in this new reality.
“Go to Switzerland, where he is stationed and operational. Watch him closely. If you have a moment’s concern, then you must destroy him.”
“How?”
“Take him to my wife, in Scotland. I trust that she will do what is right.” He began to cough again, for longer this time. One of the machines began to sound an erratic, shrill beep. His eyes rolled back inside his head and his whole body went stiff. An alarm began to sound, and three doctors poured into the room.
“Sir, you need to step outside. Sir? Sir?” The nurses were speaking but he wasn’t listening. They guided Roken outside and closed the door behind him. His hands were shaking, and his palms were saturated. He knew he would never see his father or his mother again. What on Earth just happened?
vi)
Hampshire, England
29th September 2074
I trust that she will do what is right.
You might have been wrong about that, Father.
“So, what is so special about this robot?” Zoë asked as Roken drove them out of the woodland and onto the solid tarmac. They had been sat in silence until this point and her voice startled him. On the road they began to pass abandoned cars and burnt-out buildings. They were in the middle of a long-dead warzone.
“He is apparently the most dangerous thing on this planet. But he’s my friend, my brother,” He felt his voice become brittle with the weight of his knowledge and the responsibility that had been placed in his hands, “and I need to get to him before he does something stupid. Or somebody else does something stupid.”