Hilldiggers

by Neal Asher

  He let me slide down until my feet rested on the floor, then drew his fist back to deliver a blow I knew would cave in my face. With my former Old Captain strength I could have pulled his head off; as weak as I was now, only a few options remained to me. Despite the Sudorian differences, he was still human, so possessed a human physiology. I brought my knee up hard.

  Gneiss made a sound like loose cloth getting sucked through a small hole into vacuum. He released me, staggered back, and cupped his testicles protectively. I brought the gun butt down on the back of his head, and he collapsed. I just stood there gasping for breath. Then I started coughing up bloody phlegm. I really just wanted to slide down to the floor, and wait for everything to go away. No, not yet. I understood his dilemma, understood what he had been telling me. I reached down and took hold of his wrist in both hands and with a struggle that almost had me crying in frustration, dragged him closer to the mirror, and propped him up next to it. Then I pulled his right hand up high enough to place it against that polished snake’s head in the mirror frame.

  The mirror instantly revolved into the wall, revealing a small lift beyond. I stepped inside and it immediately revolved closed again. Then it took me down.

  19

  Those we left behind have rediscovered us. Our ancestors left the Solar System, in the midst of savage corporate wars, in the hope of starting something new, something worthy. Looking back upon our history here, can we honestly say we have since transcended our bloody past on Earth and within the Solar System? Humans can now change themselves physically in ways that utterly outpace the slow meander of evolution, and it seems, from what we have heard about this Polity, that human science has produced powerful artificial intelligences that put the organic fat in our skulls to shame. Yet what about morality? Does that, too, evolve or does it remain a construct relevant only to our hunter-gatherer past? Does it now have any relevance in the modern human universe at all? I wonder if our distant kin from the Polity know. I wonder if they are ‘better’ than us.

  – Uskaron

  Harald

  Firing from the Defence Platforms and from the Corisanthe stations was becoming intermittent as the hilldiggers held their positions, themselves using defensive fire only. Harald guessed that the members of the Oversight Committee were beginning to realize that they now might not win this, but any satisfaction he might otherwise have felt was muted by the ache in his head. He began checking logistics and tactical assessments. If they continued to engage in a straight shooting war with conventional weapons, Fleet would likely run out of supplies and need to withdraw. Harald, of course, had no intention of withdrawing.

  Turning his attention to another view provided by a couple of Fleet spy cameras, Harald observed the Combine passenger liner was now well out from Corisanthe II and apparently moving to intercept Tlaster Cobe’s Stormfollower, which at present appeared not to be moving despite the glow from its steering thrusters, but would eventually enter atmosphere. The liner, though a civilian vessel, was accelerating much faster than could Fleet vessels of comparable size. Harald decided there and then that once he had seized control of all of Combine’s resources, he would have Fleet engineers take a close look at those engines. But what to do now, for the liner would reach Stormfollower within the next half-hour. He considered having Harvester and Musket launch a missile strike against the liner, then suddenly felt bewildered.

  Why do that? Why destroy that liner; why send Tlaster Cobe and his entire crew to their deaths; why waste a hilldigger by smashing it into Sudoria? Nausea assailed him. He bit down on it and in that moment experienced a sudden reversal. He decided his previous decision about Cobe was a mistake he needed to correct, for the lives of Stormfollower’s crew and maybe for his own sanity. And anyway he could afford to be magnanimous.

  Now decided on what to do, Harald accessed Stormfollower’s systems, but soon realized that stopping its descent would be no easy task. The necessary code seemed almost slippery and sometimes there were bits of it he just did not understand now. Eventually, however, he found what he wanted and sent his instructions. Views from a distance showed him a hundred or more steering thrusters on Stormfollower shutting down, then another hundred or more coming on. Using orbital mechanics programs, Harald made his calculations. Not enough. Despite the steering thrusters now fighting against it, Stormfollower was still on course to slam into Sudoria. No technology aboard the hilldigger itself could prevent that.

  ‘Get me Director Gneiss,’ Harald ordered. ‘I think it’s time for us to talk.’

  While he waited for the connection, he again assessed Stormfollower’s chances. Combine’s solution would be to dock with the huge vessel, offload its crew, and then run to the nearest available station. That strategy, rather than trying to pull the hilldigger out of its current descent, would get the passenger liner out of danger the quickest. But perhaps there was another option. Harald began to make further calculations factoring in the evident power of that liner’s engines.

  ‘Is Gneiss refusing com?’ Harald enquired after a couple of minutes’ silence.

  ‘Admiral,’ replied the tacom, ‘it seems that Director Gneiss is currently unavailable, but there are other members of the Combine Oversight Committee who are prepared to talk with you.’

  ‘Who do you have?’

  ‘Rishinda Gleer.’

  Harald grimaced, remembering the message she had sent to Fleet, which had resulted in him receiving a bullet in his head.

  ‘I’ll speak to her,’ he conceded.

  After a moment, looking grave and tired she appeared on the screen before him. He smiled at her without much sincerity. ‘I will not bother to waste time with any of the civilities, since we have moved well beyond that now.’

  ‘Civilities are for the civilized,’ Gleer noted acidly.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Harald. ‘You must order your forces to cease fire at once.’

  ‘And on what basis do you make this demand?’

  ‘I suspect you already know, but I’ll spell it out for you anyway. Fleet hilldiggers are currently occupying positions where you will be unable to use your gravity disruptors against them without causing serious damage, if not the complete destruction, to one or all of the Corisanthe stations. However, those same hilldiggers are now with impunity able to fire gravity disruptors at your stations.’

  ‘That, Harald, is not entirely true. We can still quite easily destroy Wildfire, Desert Wind and your own ship without substantial risk to Corisanthe stations II and III.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ Harald admitted, ‘but none of your stations can fire on Harvester and Musket without risking such destruction, and should you open fire on us, they will proceed to destroy your two most highly populated stations.’

  ‘I do not believe that either Captain would be so bloody-minded, especially after losing their Admiral and knowing they would be going against the direct orders of Parliament.’ But even as she spoke the words, Harald noticed that firing upon the Fleet vessels had reduced abruptly.

  ‘I have to wonder if you are prepared to bet the lives of hundreds of thousands of Combine citizens on what you believe,’ said Harald. ‘Though you should be aware that the Captains of those ships will shortly be losing the ability to refuse such an action.’

  ‘You are a cold bastard,’ said Gleer, her face turning as grey as her hair. Harald felt that he had correctly guessed her current location as being on one of the two threatened stations.

  ‘Sentiment tends to cost more lives than it saves.’ Harald gave her another false smile. ‘But I see that Combine stations are already ceasing to fire upon us.’ He nodded. ‘That being the case, I will restrain my vessels from firing on the passenger liner you have sent to intercept Stormfollower.’

  ‘So generous of you,’ Gleer sneered bitterly.

  Sudden anger surged in Harald. ‘Though I am always prepared to change my mind,’ he spat. ‘I’m speaking to you like this because I want to prevent unnecessary killing. Should I decide to close
down this link right now, then, at my convenience, one of your stations will cease to exist. Please let me know if you are unclear about any of this?’

  Rishinda Gleer glared back at him. ‘I am not in the least unclear. We have reached a predictable impasse. If either side makes use of gravity disruptor weapons, the results will light Sudoria’s sky with falling debris for some time to come. Now, you were saying about Stormfollower . . .’

  Harald stared at her irritably as he fought against the impulse to simply shut down communication. Finally, he managed to get himself under control.

  ‘Yes, my calculations indicate it would be possible for your liner to hard-dock with Stormfollower and divert it back out into space. That should take approximately five hours. I will meanwhile not fire upon either ship, since I have nothing to gain from doing so.’

  ‘So, simply on a whim you set that ship on a course to destruction, and now equally on a whim you wish to save it. How am I supposed to trust you?’

  ‘I must leave that to you.’

  ‘Very well, I will now relay instructions to the Captain of the Freesky. So what else, Admiral Harald?’

  Harald grimaced on learning the name of the civilian liner.

  ‘What else, indeed,’ he replied. ‘Why clearly Orbital Combine must now publicly declare its surrender to Fleet.’

  ‘That is not going to happen,’ she snapped.

  ‘Then, for now, this conversation is at an end.’

  Harald shut down the link, then after a moment opened a link to Desert Wind.

  ‘Franorl, close on Corisanthe Main and begin your assault.’

  Next he opened communications with Wildfire and Harvester, and shortly Captains Soderstrom and Ashanti were gazing at him from a divided screen. On another screen he eyed the progress of the programs he had initiated earlier. With satisfaction he saw that they had penetrated the two ships and were functioning precisely as intended: seizing control of their systems and putting online the hardware concealed aboard both vessels some months previously.

  ‘It seems my Captains are showing a degree of reserve about employing gravity-disruptor weapons,’ he challenged them.

  The two Captains managed to display a reasonable facsimile of puzzlement, but Harald was not convinced. He saw Ashanti glance to one side, as if someone nearby had addressed him, but the screen microphone aboard Wildfire did not pick up what was said. However, the man’s sudden reaction of quickly suppressed rage told Harald all he needed to know.

  ‘With our assault on Combine reaching such a critical juncture,’ Harald continued, ‘I cannot countenance any hesitation, and I certainly cannot risk either of you disobeying my orders.’

  ‘I would never disobey you, sir,’ Soderstrom protested.

  ‘We have given you our total trust,’ said Ashanti, ‘and you cannot give us yours?’

  His head throbbing severely, Harald wanted to shout at them, but he continued, ‘As you will by now realize, I have taken control of some of your ships’ systems. They will hold their current positions, with their gravity disruptors directed towards the main targets. Should you attempt to move them out of position without my express permission, your main drives and steering thrusters will shut down.’

  ‘This is madness!’ Soderstrom snarled. ‘You mean we’ll need to get your permission to move our own ships if we come under attack?’

  ‘There will be no attacks you cannot deal with from your current location, and I’ve allowed you to retain control of all your conventional weapons and defences.’

  ‘Allowed?’ said Ashanti.

  ‘Yes, allowed – though I now control the firing of your gravity disruptors.’ Both Captains seemed to have nothing to say about that, so Harald went on. ‘Look at it this way: should we fail in our objective, should we lose this battle, you as individuals cannot be held to account for any destruction those weapons may meanwhile cause.’

  ‘We became culpable the moment we ignored Parliament,’ said Ashanti.

  ‘Whatever.’ Harald waved that away. ‘I cannot afford to gamble Fleet’s future on the whims of individual Captains.’

  ‘Just the whim of one Admiral, then,’ Ashanti replied.

  Harald shut down the communication.

  McCrooger

  The lift’s direction of acceleration changed abruptly, and had me staggering to one side, where I braced myself during another abrupt change. Then it decelerated and grav disappeared. Becoming weightless, I grabbed a nearby handle. The lift opened onto a chamber in which the glints of light, here and there, were certainly not provided for illumination. Nevertheless a swirling metallic glow gave me enough light to see by. After a moment I started having trouble breathing and my lungs felt leaden. At first I thought this was just one of my own problems, then I remembered how the Ozark Cylinders were filled with inert gas surrounding the canister in which the Worm fragment was held. I closed up my mask, and the discomfort slowly faded as the suit automatically oxygenated. Pushing myself out of the lift, I peered into the shadows and eventually spied what must surely be my destination – the source of that weird glow – and I launched myself down towards it.

  What exactly is ‘alien’? There are so many living worlds in the Polity that burgeon with alien life, but once you begin to familiarize yourself with that life, how much the word applies becomes only a matter of degree. After a while it ceases to be alien and becomes just a matter of taxonomy. You can understand it, how it functions, how it came to be, where it fits in its local ecology.

  But this was alien. This was gazing at something unfathomable while your mind struggled to fit it into a mould, to define it, categorize it, to remove it from that part of the consciousness that is still a primate screaming at the dark. I clung to the worn knurling of the framework positioned before the diamond pane and gazed at something I just could not encompass – and never really wished to. Then I raised my gun to point it at the damned thing and, bracing myself for the recoil, pulled the trigger back and held it there. So I would die in the process – I felt near enough to that state already for it not to matter to me.

  The gun fired with oiled precision, considering all it had been through, and emptied a clip of about ten bullets into the diamond. I then opened up my containment suit and pulled out another ammunition clip. Were those hair-fine cracks appearing before me? It was difficult to tell with that swirling otherness behind. I discarded the first clip, watched it float away from me, and found my mind drifting similarly. I loaded the second clip and fired again, trying to hit exactly the same point at the centre of the circular diamond window. Definitely some damage evident now: sparkling diamond fragments gyring away, angel dust glittering in the air – and a crack. I had begun to empty the third clip when my world turned inside out. I could see one of the bullets travelling balletically slow. Chunks of diamond folded out, and a stream of something like mercury, in which it seemed segmented worms and insectile skeletons were submerged, licked out into the inert atmosphere. Then I was hurtling backwards, tumbling through the air as madness flowed out and around me. I could hear klaxons screeching, but their noise seemed so prosaic and worldly that they meant almost nothing to me. Then the floor slammed up against me, the canister came crashing down nearby, and other equipment rained down in a deadly tangle. Snakes of cables submerged me, and I think it was those that saved me as some massive device crashed down on top. I belatedly realized that the Ozark Cylinder had been ejected from the station; the initial acceleration bringing me and all the rest of this paraphernalia tumbling down. The other thing, now coiling and swirling above me, had seemingly been affected not at all.

  I realized I’d stopped breathing, that my heart had stopped too, and I felt no inclination at all to force the seizing clockwork of my body back into motion. Zero gravity returned, shifting the debris and cables about me, removing their weight but not their mass. Underneath them I felt almost safe, comfortable, enclosed as if under the downy covers of a bed. I considered succumbing to the kind of sleep you don’t wak
e up from, but a fascination with the thing now cruising about above me kept me conscious.

  It now had a wormish shape, but one seemingly formed out of a compacted mass of steel and silver skeletons, like thorny baroque sculptures. It was now elongating, with a simultaneous narrowing of its girth. During this transformation it started to look insubstantial, its elements gradually parting and a pearly glow issuing from between them, then the elements becoming translucent, fading. Then abruptly it turned blindingly bright and stabbed towards the cylinder wall, impacted hard and simply began boring through the metal.

  A shock wave skidded me along the floor still buried under the wreckage, like a bug being smeared under a foot. Incandescent vaporized metal and plastic and chunks of wreckage exploded into the chamber as the Worm tore its way through. Nothing hit me directly, but then nothing needed to, since I was already pretty well broken up by then. Then the Worm was through, and the debris cloud went into abrupt reverse as the inert atmosphere all around me roared its way out through the massive hole punched in the cylinder wall.

  I lay there wondering why I felt no pain, concluding that my body was now so nearly a corpse that I was beyond feeling. I could see that my right leg was missing below the knee and that a rip down one side of my suit had exposed my intestines and one shattered rib to vacuum. I was actually steaming – the fluids rapidly boiling away from my body – and wondered if I could remain conscious even while my present environment turned me into something with the consistency of dry leather and kindling.

  However, two huge bulky figures suddenly loomed over me, one pulling away the wreckage while the other heaved me free. The one holding me then launched himself away, and it seemed but a moment before we were out in open space, Sudoria turning below us, stars above, and a pillar of rainbows over to one side. Some leviathan mouth then closed over us, and Slog and Flog dragged me deeper into intestinal spaces. I glimpsed Rhodane’s worried expression, and felt something pressing against my neck.