I was in the air again. Buck was behind me somehow. It happened so slowly I had the time to take in the view of the ruins of Trenton below me and appreciate just how high forty storeys up was. It was the roof of the last tower block I was heading for. I overshot, landing in the middle of the roof, moving at speed towards the edge, way too fast to stop. I didn’t think, I just ditched the bike. My bike was moving away from me in a shower of sparks as I slid along, the rough concrete roof going though my duster, then my clothes, then my skin, yet again. I heard protesting tyres skidding behind me as I followed my bike off the edge of the tower block.
The bike flew in a long graceful arc out over the city. It seemed to take a long time to fall. I was watching it fall away from me. I slid off the roof, just managing to grab a piece of the rusted metal frame that ran through the crumbling concrete. I stopped suddenly. Had I grabbed it with my left I would’ve gone over but I’d grabbed it with my right and locked the metal fingers of my prosthetic arm around the metal. The metal tore itself out of the concrete in a shower of dust and I dropped, but it held. As did my arm, but only just. It was still healing from when Rannu had torn it off and I felt the gel around the new join give, as did the join itself slightly, and blood was running down my neck and chest.
More concrete dust showered down on me as Buck skidded to a halt on the roof’s edge in time to see the end of my bike’s swan dive. I think I spoilt his enjoyment at seeing my bike smash through the roof of an old bus station by screaming a lot. He lit up a joint and dragged deeply.
‘A little help, please,’ I gasped. Buck looked down at me.
‘Oh yeah.’ He pushed the kickstand down with a cowboy boot, got off the bike and knelt down on the edge of the roof. He leant down and placed the lit joint in my mouth.
‘Thanks,’ I said around the joint.
‘Let’s talk,’ he said, grinning.
One of the Commancheros had been a medic on Lalande. I think I needed to get my own medic to follow me around.
‘Can you do anything without fucking yourself up?’ Mudge asked. I had to admit that Mudge’s sense of humour was beginning to get on my nerves. We were sat back in the concrete square. The right side of my body had been cleaned, the bits of clothing, roof and rad-proofed material picked out of the wound. The gel and the pak on my shoulder join had been reset and much of me was covered in new skin and medgel.
‘Hey, I won,’ I pointed out.
‘Almost beat me to the ground as well,’ Buck said, smiling. ‘Joe, give us a moment,’ he said to the medic once the guy had finished. The cyberbilly nodded at me and headed off. We were sitting round a jet-black muscle car with tinted windows. Air intakes stuck through the hood and the suspension was heavy duty and raised. The car belonged to Gibby judging by the way he fussed over it. Buck and Gibby were with us. Mrs Tillwater had gone back to rejoin Crawling Town after we’d assured her that we were going to play nicely. I sat on the bonnet despite Gibby’s complaints. Mudge sat on some rubble nearby with Rannu and Pagan. Morag seemed both worried that I’d hurt myself again and pissed off that I’d destroyed the bike. Buck was still sitting on his bike and Gibby had sat down on the ground with his back to one of the car’s polished wheels.
‘So let’s hear it,’ Mudge said.
‘What do you want to know?’ Gibby asked.
‘Where’s MacDonald?’ Mudge asked.
Buck looked at him as if he was an idiot. ‘How the hell are we supposed to know that?’ he asked.
‘Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ I said. I wanted to hear this from the start or maybe I just wanted to put off a decision I would have to make about Gregor. ‘Why were you ferrying Rolleston and the Grey Lady around?’ I asked.
‘They’d received intelligence that when the Ninjas went in they would try and infect at least one of the people they attacked,’ Gibby told us.
‘What did they infect them with?’ I asked.
‘You tell me,’ Buck said. ‘You saw as much as we did, more. Looked like they infected people with themselves.’ He was right.
‘Did Rolleston know why?’ Mudge asked.
Gibby shrugged. ‘There were a number of theories: some kind of disease-based warfare, to take them over, breeding… Who knows? There’s a reason we call Them aliens. I’m not sure we’re going to help you fellas.’
‘What did Rolleston want with an infected human?’ I asked. Buck answered me this time.
‘When they turn into puddles their genetic make-up is junked and they destroy themselves rather than be captured. Rolleston figured that if they infected a human then at least part of them would be intact-’
‘And they could study them,’ Pagan finished. Buck got up, went to the back of Gibby’s car and popped the boot.
‘Beer?’ he asked everyone. Even Rannu said yes.
‘I don’t get it,’ Mudge said when we all had our beers. ‘Why’d he ask a pair of degenerate cocksuckers like you to do his driving?’ I had to wonder about his interview technique – I mean professionally. as a journalist. I wasn’t really surprised that he’d never ended up interviewing celebrities or politicians.
‘Your mother recommended us,’ Buck said.
‘I could see my mother recommending you have a bath, but really. I mean why use Yanks?’
"Cause the 160th are good,’ Buck said. This wasn’t just transatlantic banter. Mudge had a point: why hadn’t Rolleston kept it in the family?
‘So’s 47 Squadron and the CHF,’ I said, meaning the Commando Helicopter squadron.
Gibby sighed. ‘They are.’ Buck glared at him. ‘But we were air and space force before we transferred into the army. Part of the Special Operations Wing.’
‘So?’ Mudge asked. Sometimes I forgot that Mudge wasn’t actually military.
‘I get it,’ I said. Mudge and Morag turned to look at me. Pagan had already worked it out and Rannu didn’t seem to care.
‘They don’t just fly gunships and copters; they’re trained to pilot spacecraft as well,’ Pagan said.
‘And interface stuff like assault shuttles,’ Gibby added.
‘You can fly spacecraft and you chose to fly gunships?’ I asked. Flying spacecraft was the more prestigious job. Gunship pilots at the end of the day were just infantry taxi drivers. Buck let out a snort of derision and Gibby smiled.
‘Spaceships are boring. Here’s some black, here’s some more black,’ Gibby began. ‘But flying two metres above the ground at six hundred-plus clicks, watching a tracer firework display with crystal setting your veins on fire, that’s fun.’ Buck nodded his agreement.
‘You boys miss the war?’ Morag asked. At first I thought Buck was going to take offence – it wasn’t a question that most vets like to hear – instead he smiled.
‘Naw, miss the toys though.’ He lit up a cigarette and I nicked one off him.
‘Rolleston take you out-system?’ Mudge asked.
‘Couple of times, but you know how fast information moves out there. I think he had other teams in the other colonies looking for the same thing. It was mostly in-system stuff and we were always too late until that Foreign Legion unit went down and he decided to use the Wild Boys as bait,’ Gibby answered.
‘Who was he taking orders from?’ I asked. Gibby shrugged but Buck answered.
‘We don’t know, but I’ll tell you this: he was outside the chain of command. I once saw him give a full air force colonel an order and get it obeyed. He didn’t like working with us none, though.’
‘No?’ I asked.
‘Can’t imagine why,’ Mudge said. ‘Two such sweet guys like you.’
‘Son,’ Buck said, ‘you keep banging your gums together like that and I’m going to kick your ass so bad you’ll get to wear it as a hat.’
Mudge opened his mouth to counter threaten. I said, ‘Mudge, give it a rest, will you?’ He looked like he was going to argue but decided to remain quiet. Buck was busy staring at Mudge so Gibby took up the story.
‘Like I said, we had the skill set he needed
, but I think they were setting up their own people.’
‘A private army?’ Pagan asked, leaning into the conversation and taking an interest.
Gibby shrugged. ‘Mebbe. He definitely wanted to keep it in-house.’
‘Like the XIs?’ I asked. Buck and Gibby looked at me blankly.
‘The whole XI thing doesn’t seem to be working too well for Rolleston,’ Pagan said, nodding at Rannu and me. I had to agree with him.
‘So why hasn’t he sent his army after us?’ I asked. ‘Why just the XIs?’
‘Because we’re not important enough,’ Pagan said.
‘So what is?’ I asked.
‘You feeling unwanted?’ Mudge asked.
‘Not really,’ I said.
‘It would suggest that this God thing is all bollocks,’ Mudge said. Pagan glared at him. ‘I’m serious, man. The alien is dead, that seems to be all he cares about. We’re just loose ends that the XIs and the Fortunate Sons will deal with eventually. If Rolleston wanted you dead you would be. Thinking you’re more important than that is just delusions of grandeur. You’ve pissed him off but you’re not the big threat you think you are.’
‘Whereas you are?’ Rannu asked. Mudge turned around to look at the Nepalese.
‘I don’t know. The Grey Lady comes to me and asks me to mind my own business or she’ll kill me, and I tend to believe her, but that’s the thing, see? I’m a pain in the arse.’ I found myself nodding with everyone else present. ‘Not a huge threat. I think we may have lost some perspective.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But we are running around with an alien, even if it’s only an alien information form. That is potentially a serious threat to Earth security.’
‘You’ve got a what?’ Buck asked, swapping a look of confusion with Gibby.
‘I guess Rolleston either doesn’t care or doesn’t know about that,’ Mudge said.
‘So what do you suggest?’ Pagan asked.
‘Keep a low profile and die of liver failure,’ Mudge answered. That appealed to me. Even coming to some kind of an accord with Rolleston appealed to me.
‘So what happened to your friend?’ Morag asked. I turned to look at Buck and Gibby.
‘After we left you guys-’ Buck began.
‘To die,’ Mudge added. I glanced over at him. He just shrugged but remained quiet.
‘We had a mid-air rendezvous with a transport shuttle. In orbit we docked with Rolleston’s ship-’
‘He had a ship?’ I asked, surprised. Pagan let out a low whistle. That was serious resources. Buck looked pissed off with yet another interruption.
‘What was the name of the ship?’ Pagan asked.
‘HMS Steel.’
‘Frigate class, fitted out for stealth operations,’ Pagan said. It was the sort of ship that special forces types tended to operate off.
‘Anyway,’ Buck tried again, ‘we were still in orbit waiting for clearance to set sail. We were using some of the bigger ships for cover from Them’s fleet and surface bombardment when the call comes through that you two had made it off Dog 4.’ I already knew this. Rolleston had given the command to dump us.
‘So what? Tell me about Gregor.’
Thing you’ve got to know is the gunship and the transport shuttle, all of them, were set up for bio containment. They were ready for what happened to your friend.’
I flicked the cigarette away, resisting the urge to cough in case I didn’t like what came up. I was feeling quite weak; I’d need another stim soon.
‘So where’d you take Gregor?’ Mudge asked.
‘Back to Sol, the Atlantis Spoke,’ Gibby answered. ‘We took the whole of the transport into the biggest cargo elevator.’
‘That the last you saw of it?’ I asked. Gibby nodded. I could see the disappointment on Mudge’s face. It meant nothing. The Spokes were entrepots. They were connected to the entire transport infrastructure of Earth. If Gregor was still alive he could be anywhere. I heard Pagan sigh.
‘Give me the exact date and time,’ Pagan said in a resigned tone of voice.
‘Can you do anything with that?’ I asked him.
‘Maybe.’
‘Do you want help?’ Morag asked.
‘It’ll just be sifting through data, little hacking involved, pretty boring.’
‘I have to learn that too.’
‘That it?’ Mudge asked. He was visibly pissed off. Buck and Gibby gave the question some thought and seemed to come to an unspoken agreement.
‘Not quite,’ Buck said. We all turned to him expectantly.
‘Go on,’ I urged.
‘Look, man, your friend is more than likely fucked. Why you doing this?’ Buck asked.
‘Stupid question,’ Rannu said.
I pointed at Gibby. ‘He goes down in a burning gunship, what do you do?’ I asked. Buck nodded.
‘MacDonald might still be on the Spoke, or at least I’m pretty sure he was kept there for a while,’ Gibby said.
‘Why?’ Mudge asked.
‘For one thing, the elevator took the transport way down below sea level. It went straight past the flight decks, and docks.’
‘So?’ I asked. ‘They could’ve taken him out by submarine, slow but stealthy.’
‘Or used the Mag Levs,’ Mudge suggested.
‘And there were people there waiting for us,’ Buck added.
‘That doesn’t mean anything either,’ Mudge said.
‘Maybe so, but I overheard one of them mention the facility. Way he said it made me think that it was in the Spoke,’ Buck said.
‘That’s pretty thin,’ Mudge said. Buck shrugged.
‘I’ll see if we can corroborate any of this,’ Pagan said.
‘It is pretty thin. Thing is. Bran overheard this guy. I saw her look between him and me,’ Buck said. Silence followed.
‘So?’ Morag said finally.
‘She was going to kill him,’ I said. Buck nodded.
‘That’s when we decided to haul ass,’ Gibby said.
‘That was when you deserted?’ I asked. The pair nodded. We all lapsed into silence for a bit, just thinking, or at least I assumed everyone else was. Gibby went to the cool box in the boot of his car and got everyone another beer.
‘So what do we do with this?’ Mudge asked finally. The sky was beginning to darken and we were being treated to an incredible light show of purples and reds in the pollution. Some of the cyberbillys were heading back to Crawling Town. The rest seemed to be intent on partying in the ruins of Trenton. Campfires started to appear as the vehicles were parked so they could be better watched. I looked over at where I’d seen the tribeswoman, but of course she’d gone and my tolerance for cyberbilly music had been reached and breached some time ago. Didn’t these people have any pre-FHC jazz?
‘If I were you, I’d mourn your friend and let it go,’ Buck said. ‘There’s no good result I can think of for what happened to him.’
I was beginning to think he was right.
‘Maybe not,’ Morag said. I looked up at her. She had a thoughtful expression on her face but I found myself wishing that her hair would grow back faster. That said, even with her hair that short she was very attractive. And very young, the muted voice of my conscience managed to remind me.
‘Morag, I don’t mean to be rude but what could you possibly know about this?’ I asked.
‘Intuition?’ she suggested hopefully. There was a snort of derision from Mudge.
‘You’ve been talking to it again?’ Pagan asked disapprovingly.
‘Talking to what?’ Gibby asked suspiciously.
‘Maybe we should discuss this later,’ I suggested.
Mudge pointed at Morag. ‘She’s got an alien in a box, and he,’ Mudge pointed at Pagan, ‘wants to use it to make God.’ Pagan came off the ground, his face livid with anger.
‘What the fuck are you trying to do?’ he demanded. I felt pretty pissed off myself.
‘It’s a fucking stupid idea, a fantasy. Who gives a fuck? Nobody’s goi
ng to believe us, and even if they do they’re just going to assume that we’re mad.’
‘Mudge, you’ve made your point. Just keep your mouth shut, okay?’ I told him.
‘Yes, sir,’ he snapped.
‘We should listen to the girl,’ Rannu said.
‘Are you boys like a cult or something?’ Gibby asked, he was sounding even more confused.
‘You’re only a couple of consonants out there, as in shower of,’ Mudge said.
‘Are you finished?’ Morag asked. Mudge nodded. ‘Look, I don’t know anything for sure. When we try to communicate it doesn’t always make sense,’ she said.
‘What doesn’t?’ Gibby asked, completely bewildered.
‘Assuming it’s not trying to influence you,’ Pagan said.
‘What do you mean you’re all trying to make God?’ Buck asked.
‘You must try to seek understanding from what it says. It chose you for a reason,’ Rannu said.
‘It got delivered to the same whorehouse – whoreboat!’ I shouted as I found myself unable to put up with this pseudo-mystical bullshit.
‘The girl’s a whore?’ Buck asked, his face lighting up as he finally found something he could understand. Both Morag and I glared at Buck.
‘Shut up,’ I told Buck.
‘I think it was trying to communicate,’ Morag said.
‘Are you boys a cult that worships a whore?’ Buck asked with a look of dawning enlightenment on his face.
‘What?’ I asked him, unable to follow his reasoning. No, we’re not a fucking cult.’
‘And stop calling me a whore,’ Morag added. ‘Or, or, or I’ll do something violent.’
‘Well now I’m scared,’ Buck said, grinning. ‘How much, darlin’?’
‘I’ll do something violent,’ I said. Rannu also sat forward, ready to move.
Morag turned on me. I can look after myself!’ I was somewhat taken aback by this; I was after all just trying to help.
‘What makes you think it was trying to communicate?’ Pagan asked, ming to steer the conversation back to something productive.
‘Ambassador said that what we call the Ninjas were an earlier form of what he was. They were designed to try and communicate with us.’
‘Who’s the Ambassador?’ Gibby asked.
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