Gridlinked ac-1

by Neal Asher

  'Female, heavily radioactive. I'd say she was flash-burnt in the explosion.'

  'Quick, then,' said Gant.

  'Not necessarily… that's strange…'

  Cormac stepped forward and looked down. 'Tell me,' he said.

  'It looks like her lower half was cut away after she was burnt. I suppose that could have happened…'

  Mika glanced up then around. There was no damage evident to the building where they were, or anywhere nearby. Cormac knelt down and inspected the corpse. He looked over to Mika.

  'See there.' She pointed to the severed organs and muscle. 'That was done with a shear of some kind, after she was frozen. See? No fluids.'

  Gant stooped down, next to the two of them. 'Now why would someone do that?' he asked.

  Cormac knew damned well that the question was rhetorical. He stood. 'We'll find out soon,' he said. 'No need to second-guess.'

  They advanced and found another corpse in a similar condition. Then they found a stack of five corpses, which looked like a sculpture made in hell. None of these corpses was burnt. Mika inspected them closely, though with some difficulty as they were frozen together.

  'Hypothermia. Most of these froze to death.' She pointed at the corpse of a man right in the middle of the heap. His skin was dark blue and he was impossibly thin. 'That one is an Outlinker. He must have been in a low-G area when AG cut out. His neck is broken.'

  'Yeah, but who stacked them here, and why?' wondered Gant.

  Cormac wished he could give the soldier a dirty look.

  They continued along, until Jane contacted them.

  'One of the heat sources is moving, coming your way.'

  Gant spoke up quickly. 'This isn't scientific any more. What do you recommend, Agent?'

  'Get off this central aisle. We'll hide for a while and see what we might see,' said Cormac. There was no objection from Chaline; since they'd found that first corpse she had been very quiet.

  They cut down a side path to a secondary aisle and crouched there behind troughs of frozen hydroponics fluid containing tomato plants, which would shatter at a touch. Both Gant and Thorn held their weapons ready. Cormac moved his hand close to his shuriken.

  'Close to you now, about a hundred metres,' Jane told them.

  They waited in tense silence.

  'Fifty metres.'

  'OK,' said Cormac. 'Radio silence until I say otherwise.' He wished he had thought of that earlier. If whoever was coming had a radio he knew where they were.

  The figure that clumped down the main aisle appeared to be a human heavily wrapped in whatever materials it could find. Unless there was a coldsuit of some kind underneath all that material, Cormac realized it was not human. The material itself was some kind of plastic mesh: probably the only stuff the figure could find that had not become frangible with cold. Ordinary cloth would shatter at these temperatures. He continued to watch for any signs that they had been spotted, but the figure plodded on slowly, facing straight ahead. As it passed the cross-aisle in which they hid, Cormac's suspicion was confirmed. The figure's knees were higher up than a human's and bent in the opposite direction. It walked like a bird.

  Where…?

  Once past them, it soon reached the pile of corpses. With a crackle of breaking flesh, it hoisted one of the corpses onto its shoulder as if it was made of thin balsa, then turned and began to trudge back again.

  'It has no radio, then,' said Cormac.

  'What the hell was that?' asked Gant. A genuine question this time.

  Cormac tried to track down an aberrant memory. Where had he seen a creature that walked like that? 'I don't know, but it's a sure bet it had something to do with the runcible breakdown. We'll follow it. Try not to make too much noise. It might not have a radio, but it's probably got ears.'

  They moved after the creature once it was twenty metres ahead of them.

  'A description would be nice,' said Jane.

  Mika replied, 'Manlike, but with lower inverted knee-joints.'

  'What are they doing with the bodies?' asked Chaline.

  Cormac glanced in her direction. She had not figured it out, and he was not about to start spouting theories just yet. He wondered what it was like to have that kind of naivety.

  They followed the creature to an area where any troughs had been pushed back against the walls. There it dropped the corpse to the ground. Chaline gagged when an arm flew off and its fingers shattered like porcelain. The creature squatted down and picked up a device with the appearance of a builder's trowel. A high-pitched whining came over their comunits as it used the device to cut the arm into sections.

  'Oh my God,' said Chaline, and was ignored.

  'Appears to be some kind of electric shear,' said Thorn, then he pointed to the row of black cubes to which the shear was wired. 'Homemade cells. God knows what they're made of.'

  'And that is a microwave oven, if I'm not mistaken,' said Cormac, indicating a cylindrical canister on the floor.

  The creature opened the canister and dropped the sections of human arm inside.

  'They're… they're cooking…' Chaline could not goon.

  'More like softening, at these temperatures,' said Thorn. He did not seem the slightest bit bothered by what he was seeing. 'Human flesh is about the only form of protein and fat around, here on the perimeter. Most supplies were probably destroyed and whatever was left they probably used up long ago.'

  Cormac surveyed the plants all around them. Thorn looked as well.

  'Not wordi them diawing vegetable matter either. That would be a waste of energy. Just not wordi the effort with all this flesh about/ the agent said.

  'Yeah,' said Gant, 'but what kind of creature can survive on radioactive human flesh?'

  Cormac had a horrible suspicion he might know.

  'Oh God.'

  Cormac glanced at Chaline with irritation. But she was not viewing the scene before them, but was looking behind her. Cormac turned fractionally before Gant did. Behind them stood a second creature, as if it had been there for some time, watching them. Gant raised his gun, but Cormac had his shuriken to hand before him. It flashed through the air with its chainglass blades retracted. There was a crack. Gant swore as his gun clattered on the floor. Cormac laid a restraining hand on Thorn as the shuriken hovered in the air above him. Thorn lowered his gun. Cormac hit the recall on its holster and it shot home, glad to be out of the cold.

  'No violence,' he said, then put some lightness in his voice. 'They're only eating dead people, not killing live ones.'

  They all slowly stood up. Cormac glanced behind and saw diat the other creature had seen them too, and was also standing. 'Right, we'll head back for the shuttie. They'll eidier follow us or they won't; we cannot compel them. But if they do come, we'll allow them aboard.'

  'What are they, Cormac?' asked Chaline.

  Now she had asked, Cormac wanted to answer her -but he had to be sure. If they were what he diought they were, then that meant there would be an awful lot more questions - like, where now was a certain extragalactic creature? A creature with a body consisting of four kilometre-wide spheres of flesh joined in a row, and how had it survived an antimatter explosion? But that was another story, one he suspected he would have to be telling soon enough.

  'I cannot be sure of what they are. We'll see back at the shuttle, if they come along.'

  The five of them moved back down the aisle. Gant retrieved his gun and holstered it. As they neared the second creature, it moved aside to allow them past. Once they were past, it turned to watch them. Its fellow joined it. Cormac gestured for them to follow. They immediately did so.

  'How dangerous are diey?' asked Gant.

  'They haven't attacked, diat's all I can say. Whatever their reason for being here, they are survivors. We came here to rescue any survivors…'

  They soon reached the open door to the facility, and began fighting their way dirough a worsening blizzard to the shuttle.

  'Quickly,' said Jane. 'Some fallout.'


  Cormac glanced back and saw the two creatures hesitating at the door. Perhaps they were at their limit there. Perhaps it was too cold out here for them. He again gestured for them to follow, and pointed over at the shuttle. They followed again. The storm made no difference to their plodding gait. In a moment all five were beside the shuttie and Jane opened the door and helped them inside. Cormac waited with her at the door for the two creatures to arrive. They climbed inside also. The door closed. The creatures stood there waiting.

  As the temperature rose, the shuttle filled with carbon-dioxide vapour that slowly cleared. Soon the floor around the creatures was peppered with water-ice splinters that had flaked from their plastimesh clothing. When the temperature reached 250 Kelvin, minus twenty-three Celsius, Cormac removed his mask and gloves. The creatures copied him, the plastic mesh that covered them breaking like wet blotting paper at this higher temperature.

  'No coldsuit underneath. Must have antifreeze for blood,' observed Thorn.

  Everyone else was silent as the creatures revealed themselves, and finally stood naked before them. Cormac nodded to himself, all his recent suspicions confirmed, and new ones taking their place. Had Blegg known? The old bastard had said Cormac was just right for this mission.

  These creatures looked like men, only their skin was green, fading to yellow around their stomachs, inside their legs and under their chins, and it was tegulated with fingernail-sized scales. They were hairless, and their eyes were about three times the size of a man's. They had no ears, only holes set in the requisite positions. The shape of their heads was toadlike, with muzzles rather man human noses and mouths. Their hands were three-fingered and bearing claws. Tentatively, Mika stepped closer and scanned them with her diagnosticer. After that she studied her readings for a long time before saying anything.

  'I can't get a proper reading from them. We'll need the lab on the Hubris.'

  'Doesn't surprise me,' said Cormac. 'And it wouldn't surprise me if you get some strange readings there, too. You see, I don't think they are really alive.'

  Mika looked at him and waited.

  Cormac glanced at Jane, who was keeping a wary eye on their two visitors, then turned to Mika, his tone acid. 'You asked what they are. Well, a very long time ago a palaeontologist by the name of Dale Russell followed up on a little thought-experiment of his. He was wondering what dinosaurs might have evolved into, had not mammals displaced them. For his basic model he took a dinosaur called stenonychosaurus, and from that he developed what he called a dinosauroid. These are something like his model.'

  'But they are not dinosauroids,' Mika stated.

  'Oh no,' said Cormac, 'I think these were made as a taunt, or a lesson, or for some other unfathomable reason. I've only ever seen one before now, and I assumed it was unique. I christened it dracoman.' Cormac rubbed a hand across his eyes. Suddenly he felt very tired. 'You see, these were made by an extragalactic dragon that might or might not have died a quarter of a century ago.'

  They were staring at him in disbelief as he turned to them. All except Mika - she nodded sagely.

  'Aster Colora,' she said. 'The Monitor. The contra-terrene explosion. I was five then, but I've never forgotten the story. They turned it into a holodrama: "The Dragon in the Flower". And there was a book called Dragon's Message.'

  Cormac sighed with relief. Someone knew the story, then. He turned back to the two strange creatures. "They'll need to be decontaminated somehow. It would be a good idea to keep them in isolation. We should get back now. You should be able to get the whole Dragon story from Hubris.'

  At that moment one of the dracomen gave a shiver, and its slotted pupils focused on Cormac. Then it grinned at him with lots of pointy white teeth. There was a raw bloody smell on its breath.

  10

  Chainglass: A glass formed of silicon chain molecules. Depending on heat treatments and various doping techniques, this glass has a range of properties covering just about every material that has preceded it. Chainglass blades can be as hard as diamond and maintain an edge sharper than that of freshly sheared flint, whilst having a tensile strength somewhere above that of chrome steel. Chainglass also lacks the brittleness of its namesake. This substance was the invention ofAlgin Tenkian, and it made him filthy rich.

  After serving out his derisory sentence in the Phobos prison and his longer sentence with ECS (something one might describe as a work-experience course), Tenkian went on to land a top job with JMCC. Though he did hand himself in to ECS because of his disgust at the extremes of violence some Separatist groups went to, he was still an ardent supporter of the cause. When he quit JMCC and went to Jocasta, he severed all ties with the Cause. At this time his personal fortune from chainglass royalties was said to have crept above the billion mark. This goes to prove the theory that a large cash injection will cure most forms of fanaticism.

  From Thumbnail Biographies

  Pelter became aware of them almost instantly, and couldn't help but wonder what they hoped to achieve. Did they think they might be able to rob him, with Mr Crane walking just behind him? He stepped from the pavement and over a deep storm gully onto the compacted and fused stone of what was once a road for hydrocars. Crane followed, maintaining the two-pace distance he had kept to since their arrival here. On the other side of the road Pelter caught the reflection of the two in a darkened shop window. They hesitated, then hurried after him. Pelter smiled nastily, then moved on to the next window. This one was well lit and he surveyed what was on display inside. It amused him to have stopped directly in front of the display window of an arms dealer. He inspected the various projectile weapons and hand lasers. Nothing here for him. He needed something with a little more punch. He glanced aside.

  The two men had stopped further back down the pavement. They made no attempt to appear nonchalant, but both stood and watched him. He turned towards them and folded his arms. Both looked boosted, had shaven heads, and wore clothing that was similar in its utility: close-fitting green shipsuits with plenty of pockets and subtly - but not wholly concealed - armour pads. They also carried pulse-guns in stomach holsters and large knives sheathed in their boots. Even though they looked tough, Mr Crane could flatten them in a second. With a kind of bitter relish, Pelter hoped they'd be stupid enough to try something.

  'Well?' he shouted, at last getting fed up of waiting.

  The two men eyed each other, then advanced. Pelter gave Mr Crane his instructions, and accepted the briefcase the android handed back to him. It was not so much that Crane needed to be instructed on what to do, rather, on what he must not do. Pelter waited. Neiuier man made a move for his weapon, not that it would have achieved much. They were only a few paces away from Crane, before they slowed up and started looking hesitant.

  'Arian Pelter?' said the one on the left.

  He had time to say no more, because Crane took two huge paces forwards, moving so fast that his clothing snapped. He had both his fists clenched in the fronts of their shipsuits before they could do more than gawp at him. Then he lifted them clear of the ground, turned, and slammed them against the toughened-glass window.

  'Before Mr Crane kills you, I'd be interested to discover how you know my name.'

  'The boss… the boss,' the first speaker gasped.

  'How do you know my name?' Pelter repeated, his voice and his expression flat.

  The other one spoke quickly. 'Come with us to see him,' he croaked. He had his own hands around Mr Crane's one hand, and was staring down into the android's black eyes.

  'Why should I do that?' Pelter asked.

  'Because you and he have a mutual interest in a place called Samarkand.'

  Pelter stared at the man for a long moment. Then he reached up and touched his aug, and Mr Crane lowered the two of them to the ground. Almost reluctantly he released them and stepped back. Pelter handed him back the briefcase, then continued to watch while the men straightened out their clothing. They waited for a cue from him, but he gave them nothing but silence.
/>   'This way… then,' said the first speaker hesitantly. He carefully moved out of Mr Crane's range and led off.

  The man was fat, almost ball-shaped, and Pelter could not understand why. Surely there was no interruption to food supplies here, therefore no need to store it up internally? That sort of thing was only required on very primitive worlds. The fat man did not have one of those reptilian augs behind his ear - like the two cases who had brought Pelter here - but he did have a somewhat reptilian appearance. His shiny skin was broken into small diamond patterns, almost scalelike. Pelter studied the man for a long moment, then glanced back at the other two. They had moved away to stand on either side of the armoured door. Pelter was not concerned by this. Mr Crane, standing just a few paces in from the door, would be more than adequate should things turn nasty.

  'Arian Pelter?' said the fat man.

  'I am - and I am curious to know how you know that,' said Pelter.

  'Please have a seat.' The man gestured to the chair placed before his desk.

  Pelter moved forward and sat down. Mr Crane moved up to stand behind him. Pelter had the android turn round to watch the two by the door.

  'You haven't answered my question,' he said.

  'I am here to help you.'

  'And who might you be?' Pelter asked.

  'You may call me Grendel,' said the fat man, giving a little smile as if at some private joke.

  'Well, Grendel, I have things I need to do. Your men told me we have some mutual interest. The only reason I'm here is because they mentioned a place called Samarkand.'

  'Yes, I do have an interest in Samarkand. But let us be clear what this conversation concerns.' Grendel paused, as if listening to something, and then he went on. 'My client and yourself both have a special interest that is pertinent to that place. That interest is one Ian Cormac'

  Pelter looked down at his suddenly clenched fists. After a moment he opened his hands and looked up. The thin-gun hovered at the edge of his vision again.