Creyson Parthy & The Trojan Attack Read online

  Chapter Seven

  ‘The Tram’

  Darkness can present itself in many forms. The failing lights caused the darkness in Danton, but there was another form of darkness infecting my world, one born out of fear. This form of darkness can be far more dangerous.

  I sat in silence on the crowded express tram that would take me directly into Trans Central station.

  Whenever possible, I avoided public transport; I especially loathed the tram as a mode of transportation. I’m not a snob; I basically dislike the hustle and bustle and commotion that it entails. Getting on the tram feels like a battle for survival, with people pushing to get onboard, fighting for a seat, elbows being rammed into your ribs. Once you are finally ready to go there are so many bodies pushed against you, you’re packed in like tins of food shoved into a disorganized cupboard. Everybody is so desperate to get where they’re going as quickly as possible, they lose all regard for others.

  On this particular day, the journey turned out to be an altogether different experience.

  The mood was sombre; the usual conversation of commuting business types replaced by an anxious stillness. The platform was remarkably calm and stress free, and on the tram itself everyone’s attention was focused on the viewing terminals that were situated throughout the tightly packed carriage. These terminals were usually dedicated to presenting news bulletins to the business class who occupied the tram daily. Financial reports, company takeovers and government politics were top of the bill. These reports would be interjected by light-hearted stories intended to bring a smile to the traveller’s face. Today’s reports, on the other hand, were focused on one story only. The dominating headline and the cause of the uncomfortable atmosphere, was the mysterious disappearance of the Trojan Devices during the night.

  “It seems impossible.” The glamorous reporter gasped. “But we can confirm that over two thousand Trojan Devices have indeed vanished. Residents from more than eighteen villages awoke this morning to strange scorch marks and holes in the ground. Our on-site reporter is in the village of Lucor speaking to an eye witness.”

  The screen switched to a well-dressed female with big, curly hair standing next to a rather excitable eyewitness.

  “Thank you Kaley. I’m here with Miss Trun who claims to have seen one of the Trojan Devices in mid-flight. Miss Trun, why don’t you tell us what you saw?”

  “Oh it was terrifying, like a ball of fire in the sky. It was so fast, but I knew it was a Trojan Device.”

  Miss Trun’s dramatization caused a hushed whisper of anxiety to travel through the carriage.

  “We have had hundreds of reports of Trojan Devices taking flight across Valiros,” added the reporter.

  Looking around the tram, I couldn’t help but think how pointless our concern was. No-one knew what the Trojan Devices did or what purpose they served, so their sudden disappearance would have little or no impact on our daily lives; yet there we all were, genuinely alarmed about their desertion. I surmised that it was perhaps the mystery of their disappearance that caused concern and not the departure of the devices themselves.

  Whenever I’m traveling on the tram I tend to avoid small talk. I’m not antisocial; I rather enjoy a stimulating conversation. What I abhor is chatting to people who I’ll never see again about trivial information that serves no purpose; except in this instance to incite rumour and speculation. In situations like this, if I’m unable to form an opinion, then I’d rather say nothing at all. Unfortunately, I was sat next to a meddlesome Valiron who had no such reservations. His sharp suit and well-groomed hair suggested he was a business type, but his scuffed shoes and worn carrier bag indicated he wasn’t quite as high profile as he was attempting to appear. More than likely he was an office hand or runner.

  The Valiron, who introduced himself as Kron, fought his way into his seat, taking down several people who were targeting for the same pew.

  As I feared, he insisted on discussing the recent turn of events.

  “Did you hear that? A ball of fire in the sky; what could it mean? Where do you think the Trojan Devices are going?” I assumed the question had been rhetorical as Kron left no time for a response. “Do you think it could be part of a secret government plot?”

  And so the conspiracy theories begin, I thought.

  Kron continued, “Who could have imagined something like this happening? Did you have a Trojan near your home? Is it missing?” I opened my mouth to answer, but Kron barely left space for a breath. “I had one outside my front door. I woke up this morning, and it had just vanished. Gone. Poof. Where are they going? I mean, what are the Trojans anyway? Do you know? I don’t. Do you?”

  I quickly realised he didn’t want a conversation; he just wanted to air his anxiety. “Are you heading into the city? You’re so lucky. I’d love to work in the city. Maybe one day.”

  Switching off, but ensuring to say “Hmmm” every now and then, I stared out of the window at the passing buildings. My lack of interest didn’t deter Kron from continuing to express his concerns.

  “Oh, did you hear about the lights? Over half the outer villages lost power. I hope my village doesn’t lose power. Then again, we used to live in the dark, didn’t we? I heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that the military appeared minutes after it happened. They’ve all been evacuated and sent to temporary compounds. What do you think that means? I’ll tell you what I think it means.” Please don’t, I thought. “I think it means...”

  The tram came to a stop at one of the smaller stations on the outskirts of the city. “Oh, this is my stop.”

  “Good.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud. He looked at me with a questioning glance. I attempted to cover my impoliteness “... talking to you.”

  “Likewise,” he said. “I hope you have a nice day.” With a chipper smile, Kron stepped off the tram. I was relieved.

  If my new friend had done anything, he’d made me think. The Trojans’ disappearance, the power cuts, the military presence, my sudden job offer; could they all be connected? If the military did know about the lights that meant the High Darlon Council also knew; a council that Minister Drake was a part of. A picture was beginning to form; blurred and undefined, but a picture nevertheless. I felt like I had all the pieces of a jigsaw but wasn’t sure how to put them together. I was a loyal citizen. I had a great deal of respect for my government and all that it stood for, but even I was beginning to question their motives. My imagination was racing when something else occurred to me. Two key events had taken place directly affecting the lives of countless Valirons, and yet no official statement had been released. No explanation. This led me to only one conclusion; the government were hiding the truth and had yet to come up with a lie that would satisfy the populace. I realised I’d moved from rational thought and had joined the ranks of the conspiracy theorists. Perhaps that’s where I belonged.

  The tram entered Broter Tunnel that connected the surrounding countryside to the capital. I would soon arrive at Trans Central station, giving me plenty of time to meet the Minister.

  The seat next to me was quickly occupied by a stern female whose hard face and antagonistic body language scared me a little.

  Bored of watching the same news report on the viewing terminal, and unwilling to partake in another idle conversation with the intimidating business lady, I opted to doze for the last leg of my journey. Following Zeal’s morning routine, I needed the rest.

  In order to perform her ritual stretching and morning exercises, she’d insisted on getting up ridiculously early. This on its own would have been fine if she hadn’t bullied me into joining her.

  As she barked orders, “Stretch! Lower! Feel the burn!” I could easily envision her as a drill sergeant in the military. Their loss.

  “As a bonded couple,” she spouted, “we will have to do this every morning.” In that instant, my future flashed before my eyes; snoring through the night, stretching in the morning, debating all day, and the odd hunt for
Lags thrown in for good measure.

  Her reaction to the missing Trojan had been distinctly different to mine.

  “I’m glad,” she declared. “I hope they never come back. They’re hideous things.”

  “Aren’t you worried?”

  “Worried about what? They don’t do anything. I hope they’ve all gone. I hope I never see one of those ugly, hunks of metal again.”

  Following a meagre breakfast, that I prepared myself from the remaining food Zeal hadn’t eaten the night before, I left for work.

  Snuggling my head against the window, I closed my eyes hoping sleep would take me. I began to drift into a dreamless snooze when the tram juddered, then violently began a vicious and abrupt stop.

  The carriage screeched against the track, the framework rattling like a child’s toy. I was thrown forward, crashing my forehead into the seat in front. I heard the brakes kick in. The tram screamed against the metal track as it resisted the decrease in speed. Sparks flew up the window like a firework display.

  My body followed the momentum of the tram, whipping backwards and smashing the back of my head against my headrest. A sharp pain shot down my spine and travelled into my legs.

  The lady next to me was thrown from her seat, landing on the floor with a shriek.

  The lights flickered; bags and personal items fell from the storage lockers above. I heard a gasp of shock travel through the carriage from its panic-stricken passengers. It all happened so quickly.

  I focused my eyes to see people lying on the floor, others rubbing injured necks and heads; this was all accompanied by whispers of confusion and moans of pain. I offered a hand to the lady, but she refused my gesture and pulled herself to her feet. Climbing over the injured, she moved down the tram towards the exit. The tram had not yet reached Trans Central station. Staring out of the window, I was faced with the black walls of Broter Tunnel. Inside the atmosphere was rapidly moving from dismay to outright panic. People began to stand, the whispers replaced by cries of help.

  It was practically unheard of for a tram to stop mid journey. All transportation systems into the capital were essential and, as a result, were vigorously maintained. This commitment was born out of a previous incident that took place nearly twelve cycles ago. The unfortunate outcome of that event led to the demise of more than eighty people.

  A tram had crossed the link bridge from Dorow to Trans Central when a power failure caused the tram to stop. A previously undiscovered weakness in the bridge design caused the framework to buckle. After being stuck for more than nine hours, the track system collapsed under the weight. No-one survived. This tragedy remained well publicised, with a dedication ceremony each cycle. Every passenger onboard this tram would be aware of the story.

  Less than a minute passed before three overzealous passengers, including the stern lady, attempted to force the doors open. I sat motionless watching their futile attempts. Magnetically sealed; I knew the doors wouldn’t budge.

  You could sense hostility building in the carriage. Arguments began to break out amongst the passengers; pointless spats that achieved nothing.

  People were pushing to escape, frustration mixed with fear. Alarm was spreading like fire through the carriage, and I didn’t want to get burnt. I chose to remain quiet, allow events to run their natural course.

  Two loud pings blared from speakers built into the roof of the tram, and a nasally voice cracked over the public address system.

  “Can I have your attention, please? We apologise for the delay in this service. We hope to be moving again shortly. We ask that all passengers remain calm while we attempt to rectify the problem.”

  This announcement instigated another surge of whispers.

  A few minutes passed before a second jolt rocked the carriage. The people onboard gasped as the tram once again began moving, but not in the direction that we expected.

  The tram was travelling backwards.