Veteran v-1

by Gavin G. Smith

‘You slept with her?’ he asked. Mudge gave me a sideways glance. He was grinning. He seemed to have forgiven me for punching him.

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘That depends,’ he said.

  ‘This should be good,’ Mudge said exaggeratedly, making himself comfortable in his bucket seat.

  ‘Do you know what a hierodule is?’ Pagan asked me.

  ‘You know I don’t.’

  ‘Oh come on,’ Mudge said, shaking his head. ‘A temple prostitute. You’re not serious?’ Every so often I forget that Mudge is actually quite well educated.

  ‘I think she is possessed and I think she will do anything for what possesses her.’ This sounded familiar. Pagan was starting to sound like Vicar. The thing is I wasn’t sure he was wrong.

  ‘It would certainly explain why she was prepared to sleep with this wanker when someone like me was on offer,’ Mudge said, still grinning. I didn’t say anything. Mudge looked over at me. ‘You’re not buying this shit, are you? She may have some funny ideas, probably thanks to this arsehole,’ he said pointing his thumb at Pagan, ‘but a one-hooker alien invasion she is not.’ I still didn’t say anything. I just concentrated on the road. Mudge was staring at me now.

  ‘Jake?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know, man. Some things happened,’ I said. ‘Weird shit.’

  ‘Cool. Did she lick your arse?’ Mudge asked. This was why it was sometimes difficult to remember that he was educated.

  ‘Was it her or the alien?’ Pagan asked.

  ‘Does she have tentacles?’ Mudge enquired.

  ‘Shut up, Mudge. I don’t know. The alien, I guess.’

  ‘But she seduced you?’ Pagan more sort of stated than asked. Interesting question: did she seduce me? It didn’t feel like a seduction but then maybe that was the beauty of it. She was after all an experienced hooker.

  ‘Losing your religion, Pagan?’ Mudge asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Listen to yourselves. You’re turning a young girl – sorry, woman -into some kind of alien sex demon. What happened to the licentiousness of paganism? Hmm? You sound like one of those old-time pre-FHC fundamentalists. All women are evil. You’re just pissed off because she’s better than you. Don’t worry. I don’t think she’ll be interested in playing John the Baptist; you’ll get the glory for creating God,’ Mudge said before turning to me. ‘And you, you’re lucky that Ash and Bibs aren’t around because they would’ve taken you off and given you a right hiding by now. Grow the fuck up.’

  ‘Mudge, you weren’t there-’ I began.

  ‘Shame really. Even I wouldn’t have been as big a prick about it as you are. Maybe there’s something going on with her, so what? You keep second-guessing her and you’ll make yourself miserable and I’ll probably get punched more often. Take it at face value until you know better. You both just sound fucking frightened. In fact, fuck it, when we stop I’ll go and ride with her, see how she feels about a real man. Yeah?’

  I didn’t want that, I definitely did not want that, but I did want to hit Mudge again.

  ‘No, I didn’t think so,’ he said as he watched my knuckles turn white. ‘You know, if we had more women with our merry band I wouldn’t have to listen to this bullshit.’

  ‘You’re woman enough,’ I assured him.

  ‘Perhaps dressing it up in religious terms is hyperbole but the fact remains-’ Pagan began.

  ‘That she is reacting to what is happening to her; she has not found and adapted a belief system to herself. Hers is a natural reaction, whereas yours, like every religion, is man-made,’ Rannu said.

  ‘You’ve been thinking about this,’ I said to him.

  ‘I think when things do not go well between a man and a woman, the man and his friends sit around and damn the girl,’ Rannu said. ‘You are both just finding her more difficult to manipulate.’

  ‘I’m not trying to manipulate her,’ Pagan said. ‘I have concerns.’

  ‘Really? Fucking least of mine. The lovely Josephine Bran may be looking through a smartgun link at my pretty face right now,’ Mudge pointed out.

  ‘And if we inadvertently destroy the human race?’ Pagan said. Mudge started laughing; even to my ears it sounded ridiculous. ‘I’m serious,’ he insisted. ‘We get this wrong, we could hand over our system to Them.’

  ‘Don’t get it wrong then,’ Mudge said. ‘I still don’t see how it’d be Morag’s fault.’

  ‘Have faith,’ Rannu told him. We lapsed back into silence. If Rannu and Mudge were right, and I think I’d always known they were, then I’d screwed up big time. Not only that but I’d said the most hurtful things I could to her. It also meant that what I’d dreamt or what Ambassador had told me might be true. If that were the case then it would seem that not only had we started the war but we had also provided them with the means to make their own weapons. That, however, didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t think of a single good reason to throw humanity into a war like this. I couldn’t understand the gain.

  Back at Crawling Town we had a hurried meeting with Papa Neon and Mrs Tillwater. The moving city was getting ready to pull out. They’d had more incursions, serious ones this time. The Fortunate Sons had assembled a full armoured brigade across the border in Pennsylvania with air and artillery support. The Commancheros provided us with new vehicles: two pretty utilitarian pickup trucks (much to Buck and Gibby’s disappointment) and a dirt bike to act as a motorcycle outrider. Mudge had taken the bike and invited Morag to ride with him, probably just to piss me off. She had accepted. It was working. I was pissed off but mostly angry with myself and very sorry.

  Pagan sent out a heavily encrypted message to Balor. Rolleston, if he was still interested, could break it in time, but the phrase was random, prearranged with Balor when we’d set up our comms procedures. The Commancheros and the Big Neon Voodoo had both agreed to send out small convoys to confuse anyone surveilling us and to confuse satellite observation. Pagan was running scans and ECM attempting to either find or confuse recce drones and other methods of detection they might use. He’d also swept the vehicles and us for bugs but found nothing. We discussed nothing more about our plans on the journey back.

  We drove through the night. Mudge ditched the bike but neither he nor Morag was badly hurt. I kept going through the pills, the stims and some rather good amphetamines that Mudge had. I’d known he would have some somewhere. Things were pretty quiet in our truck.

  Balor himself met us by the water, a different rendezvous point from where we’d last seen him. There was a speedboat waiting for us; we were to leave the trucks. He greeted us all like old friends and Morag like visiting royalty. I think Buck and Gibby may have found him somewhat disconcerting.

  Over the water I could see parts of New York were burning, the flames reflected in the cold grey water. Smoke was rising from other sections of the city.

  ‘Problems?’ I asked somewhat redundantly.

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ Balor said. ‘You are my guests.’

  ‘Is this because of us?’ Morag asked.

  ‘I don’t know; we didn’t stop to ask them.’

  ‘Who were they?’ Mudge asked.

  ‘They insulted me by sending a marine expeditionary force of Fortunate Sons. As if Fortunate Sons would be a match for my vets. Still, they did have a lot of aircraft,’ he growled, sounding generally angry that they had not properly challenged him.

  ‘Balor, they could level the city if they wanted to,’ I said evenly. Balor turned to me.

  ‘I think my evil eye would weep. I love that city.’ He looked sad but then he laughed. ‘I was told they tried to assemble a SEAL team to come into the city, but they all refused and then contacted some of their friends who work for me. That was how we knew they were coming.’ He grinned his unnerving shark grin.

  ‘If this is Rolleston he’s painting with a pretty big brush,’ Mudge said. I nodded.

  We went to work, though I spent a bit of time in the hospital getting m
y skin patched up again. I wrote down what we would need and gave it to Balor. He read it, ate it and then asked me for another, memorised that one and then ate that too before complaining that I would bankrupt him. I was asking a lot from him but he came through. I couldn’t help but be impressed when he showed me the ten Wraiths. They were one generation back but they were what I’d been trained on in the Regiment.

  ‘You got the deep-water conversion kit?’

  ‘Got all the conversion kits, deep water, deep space, toxic atmosphere, high gravity, you name it. They’ve never been used; they belonged to a Fortunate Sons unit before we boosted them.’

  ‘You know we can’t pay for these.’

  ‘They attacked my home. You know I’m coming with you.’ I looked up at him sharply and then nodded. He would be useful, very useful indeed.

  ‘And I won’t be needing one of these,’ he said, gesturing at the Wraiths.

  Pagan and Mudge went to work trying to find corroborating intel for Buck and Gibby’s story. Pagan used the other world of the net and Mudge reached out to all his old journalist contacts. Morag worked on God, researched the actual Atlantis Spoke itself and either avoided or ignored me, not surprisingly.

  Rannu helped me with an assault plan, which wasn’t built on very much information. He was also teaching Morag to fight, helping her integrate her softskills, running simulations for her, that kind of thing. He’d added a smartlink to both her laser pistol and her personal defence weapon and provided her with glasses that would act as a heads-up display and show her where the crosshairs were. The guns were linked through a glove that was wired into the glasses. They also provided low-light vision. It wasn’t as good as having it all hard wired but it didn’t involve replacing any more of her flesh.

  Rannu and I also worked on the Wraiths. We ran diagnostics, did the deep-water operations conversion and attached insulating foam to help keep their EM and heat signatures to a minimum.

  Buck and Gibby took in the sights and got drunk and high. When Balor provided them with a transport flyer, they complained about it but went to work improving it as much they could and breaking it into their way of flying.

  I was leaning against an acoustic tile, wearing only a towel just like the rest of us.

  ‘If you’re going to talk don’t lean against the tile; have as little contact with the floor and walls as possible,’ Pagan said.

  ‘Should I stand on one leg?’ Mudge asked. I thought Balor looked ridiculous with a towel wrapped round his waist but all our clothes were outside the clean room. I didn’t think Morag looked ridiculous only wearing a towel. I was trying hard not to look at her. Pagan had checked us all thoroughly for surveillance devices before we entered. Worryingly, he’d found a couple on Buck and Gibby, presumably picked up while they were sightseeing.

  I pushed myself off the wall and onto my feet.

  ‘What’ve we got?’ I asked. My question was aimed at Mudge and Pagan.

  ‘A lot of smoke,’ Mudge said. ‘There are rumours about a facility deep below the surface. Couple of journos I used to know went missing looking into it. There have been a couple of deaths connected to it, one a hacker allegedly burnt out on their security countermeasures, and another a geneticist who’d contacted one of my missing journo friends. Rumour was he was going to blow the whistle. There are some wild stories about it from some of the more conspiracy minded. Usual stuff – the government has captured Them down there, that sort of thing. Nothing solid, but if I was looking for a story and didn’t mind getting killed I’d look into it. Not sure if I’d plan an assault on the strength of it.’

  ‘Any ideas as to where this facility might be?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve got three sub-surface locations,’ he said. Morag unrolled the schematics she’d found. Pagan hadn’t allowed a monitor into the clean room. He’d said it was bad enough that we all had internal electronics. Mudge looked down the long, thick stem of the Spoke and found the three locations.

  ‘Here, here and here.’ He tapped the deepest one again. ‘This being the one that was most recommended, but like I say it’s all speculation.’

  ‘How deep?’ Balor asked.

  ‘Five hundred metres. What difference does that make?’ Mudge asked suspiciously, glancing over at me.

  ‘That’s the abyssal zone,’ Balor said. ‘No light, very cold.’

  ‘Pagan?’ I asked.

  ‘I think there’s something there. I found similar stuff in the more conspiratorial areas of the net. More importantly I confirmed most of Buck and Gibby’s story. The Steel was docked when and where they said it was. There’s a significant drain of power to that area,’ he said, pointing at the third possible location, the one that Mudge had favoured. ‘Some major kit has been delivered and then disappeared, as have a lot of supplies.’

  ‘What kind of kit and supplies?’ Rannu asked.

  Pagan shrugged. ‘Lab gear, bio-hazard stuff, big containment stuff, genetics equipment, general lab supplies, food and enough gear for a not insignificant security force.’

  ‘Estimate?’ I asked.

  ‘Platoon strength at least.’

  ‘Heavy-duty gear?’ I asked. Pagan shrugged.

  ‘Unknown,’ he said finally. ‘They could be reinforced from elsewhere on the Spoke,’ he suggested and he was right. The Spokes were crawling with security, corporate and otherwise, soldiers returning or shipping out. Most had a garrison of Fortunate Sons, not to mention the Spoke Police, who would have a well-trained C-SWAT unit probably made up of vets like us.

  ‘So we have to move quickly. Couldn’t get into their net?’ I asked, knowing the answer.

  ‘It’ll be isolated from the net, a completely separate system, never the twain shall meet. They’ll have external communication in a separate net but it will be AI encrypts. I wouldn’t be able to break them if they’re even breakable at the moment.’

  ‘Who’s paying for this facility?’ Mudge asked Pagan.

  ‘Ostensibly a logistics company, but that’s just a shell corporation. If I had the time I could find out, but judging by the sophisticated way they’ve covered their tracks I would imagine the logistics company is an intelligence agency slush fund.’

  ‘Any idea whose?’ I asked. Pagan shook his head.

  ‘Okay what’s here?’ I asked, tapping the preferred location of the facility.

  ‘Airlock,’ Morag said. ‘Submarine loading dock.’ This surprised me.

  ‘You sure?’ I asked. She bit back a reply and nodded.

  ‘External defences of the Spoke?’ I said. There was shifting and muttering in the room. Spokes were thought to be near impregnable; since they’d been built there had always been paranoia about terrorist attacks.

  ‘Forty feet of reinforced concrete, in theory enough to deflect a nuclear-tipped torpedo’s blast. Full spectrum scans, motion sensors, automated steel guns, seeker torpedoes, probably augmented guard fauna, fast-response patrol submersibles,’ Morag said. I wasn’t the only surprised one; everyone was looking at her now.

  ‘Sounds fun,’ Balor said, grinning. ‘I think I’ve always wanted to attack a Spoke.’ He gave this more consideration. ‘Yes, I have.’

  Pagan looked furious. ‘I’ve been wasting my time when I could’ve been working on God,’ he said. ‘What you’re suggesting is suicide.’

  ‘It does sound like an invitation to a cluster fuck,’ Buck said. Rannu, who had helped me form the plan, just smiled.

  ‘We’re not going to attack the Spoke,’ I said, trying to calm everyone down. ‘All I’m suggesting we do is enter this facility from the ocean.’ Balor looked disappointed.

  ‘We have to stealth their security as much as possible, then all we have to do is keep them off our backs long enough for Pagan to get us in,’ Rannu said.

  ‘And while we’re in the airlock they form up their security force and waste us,’ Pagan said.

  ‘Not if you’re quick enough,’ I told him.

  ‘I don’t have control over how fast water i
s pumped out of an airlock. Besides, how’re you planning on getting to that depth? Submersible?’

  ‘Wraiths,’ Rannu said. Everyone stopped and considered this.

  Mudge let out a low whistle. ‘That would certainly give us an edge over their security force.’

  ‘Can they even operate at that depth?’ Pagan asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. "Course.’

  ‘Just,’ Rannu answered more honestly. ‘Look, the plan is interesting as far as it goes but we don’t even know for sure if there’s anything there.’

  ‘The plan’s insane,’ Pagan said.

  ‘I like it,’ Balor said.

  ‘You’re insane,’ Mudge told him. ‘Even if your highly implausible breach works, we still don’t know what we’ll be facing inside. That’s if there’s even anything there. For all we know this could be an expensive and dangerous assault on a laundry.’

  ‘It’s there,’ Morag said.

  ‘More hooker’s intuition?’ Mudge asked.

  ‘No, but there’s a hole in the information there.’ She pointed at the third possible location on her schematic, the one that both Pagan and Mudge had favoured. She looked up at Pagan and her eyes glazed over.

  ‘I said no comms traffic!’ he shouted at her.

  ‘They won’t break it. Check my info,’ Morag said. Pagan went quiet. We all watched him expectantly. A few minutes later he seemed to deflate.

  ‘She’s right,’ he said. I think he must’ve felt a bit like I did when Rannu was beating the crap out of me – the realisation that you’d just been utterly superseded.

  ‘So how come you didn’t work that out?’ Mudge asked innocently.

  ‘Leave it, Mudge,’ I told him. From underneath the schematics of the Spoke Morag took a second set of schematics, unfolding them and laying them on the floor.

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked.

  ‘I used the floor plans I could find and wrote a program to fill in the blanks. This is the area that we are dealing with. These,’ she pointed at walls and supports, ‘are internal walls and structural supports that have to exist or the Spoke will fall down. As to what’s actually inside I don’t know, but as near as I can work out this is the shape of the area.’ We were all silent; Pagan looked stricken.