by Andy Remic
Carrying their steaming mugs of tea, the two men moved down more alloy corridors and through three massive portals reminiscent of the huge doors normally found leading to bank vaults, but lined with what looked like leaves of silver. The material shimmered with skeins of green, and seemed to flow like a constantly shifting liquid.
As they came through the third portal they both stared open-mouthed at the chamber ahead of them.
It was huge, football-stadium huge, and filled with computers. Huge banks of them lined every wall. They glittered in a sort of semi-gloom, gentle waves of lights undulating across banks of servers. Massive rows of unmanned machines spread out in octopus hubs set around the smooth marble floor. Everything seemed to guide the two men towards the centre ...
‘Over here,’ shouted Constanza. They jogged towards her, Mongrel leaving a trail of hot sugary tea.
‘Where’s the Warhead?’ asked Carter.
‘Over there. At the hub of the ECW Core.’
‘Where?’
‘There. Encased in a metal shell.’
Carter squinted. ‘Can we see it?’
‘Come on.’ Taking her tea, Constanza led the two men across the vast expanse of marble. The air was alive with electricity, a gentle hum and buzz which occasionally made the hairs on the backs of their necks crackle.
Lights flowed with them, paced them, sweeping across the walls. And the huge chamber was cool. Not the freezing temperature of the Antarctic conditions outside, but a dry coolness which indicated merely precision and control.
Constanza stopped by a bank of computers and typed in various passwords. Up ahead, on a small plinth, layers of metal peeled away, disappearing below the floor in precise measured sections to reveal:
The Warhead.
Evolution Class. Spiral’s greatest development prototype: untested, unused, a Pandora’s Box of military-grade destruction. As the metal sheath fell away, it gleamed under reflected computer light with tarnished gold.
‘Where’s the rest of it?’ asked Carter, eyes taking in the modest appearance of this reputedly awesome weapon.
‘That’s it.’
Carter stared hard at the Evolution Class Warhead. In total, it stood a mere six feet in height; there was no division between payload and engine, no fins, no panels, no markings. The ECW was a bare metal simplicity.
‘It wholly fucking unimpressive,’ scowled Mongrel.
‘Watch.’ Constanza hit a few buttons, and the surface of the Warhead seemed to become suddenly molten. It flowed, swirling around within its own set parameters, its own framework; a liquid held as solid. A living, moving shell.
Carter stepped forward, then glanced back. ‘Can I touch it?’
‘Yes.’
Carter reached forward tentatively and his hand dipped into the Warhead, making him jump. He withdrew his fingers with a jerk of panicked movement, and the shimmering gold flowed and re-formed into the steady shape of the weapon’s liquid exoskeleton.
‘Did you feel anything? Under the polymorphic chassis?’ Constanza was watching him closely, analysing his reactions.
‘Yeah, it was hard—a hot hard metal cylinder. But the liquid shell was cold—freezing, in fact.’
‘Inside, you touched the Warhead’s brain.’
Carter shivered. ‘I feel like I’ve just invaded it.’
Constanza smiled, and the smile was far from nice. ‘Maybe you did. How much do you think the Warhead weighs?’
Mongrel shrugged. ‘We loaded up many a missile look like this. I probably lift it all on my own.’
‘Why don’t you try and pick it up?’
Mongrel nodded eagerly. ‘You make it go hard again? I not fancy slush all over my clean pants.’
‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ chuckled Constanza. Then she hit a key on her pad and the flowing surface of the ECW solidified into a dull gold colour.
Mongrel reddened. He coughed, stepped forward, put both his bear like paws around the narrow cylinder—and strained. Heaved. His face went through shades of red, purple, and finally, panting and wearing a sheen of sweat, he stepped away in defeat. ‘I concede. Very heavy.’
‘A thousand tonnes heavy,’ said Constanza. ‘A hundred of you couldn’t lift the ECW.’ Both men looked shocked, and Mongrel stared down at his hands, then went and picked up his brew, slurping his tea down his jumper.
‘Where does all the weight come from?’
‘It’s the chassis. But in flight it weighs exactly zero pounds.’
‘How is that possible?’ asked Carter.
Constanza shrugged. ‘I’m a programmer, not a chassis developer. But I am assured that it does. Something about reverse physics, or something. Anyway, I need to be left alone for a while to start priming the ignition sequences. And then I will need your target data.’
Carter and Mongrel looked at one another, and then both pulled out their ECubes. The tiny devices unfolded in their hands, like small black alloy roses opening petals towards the sun. There came two faint clicks.
Mongrel frowned. ‘Mine gone dead.’
‘Mine too,’ said Carter.
‘That not good.’
‘There’s the fucking understatement of the century. Can you get anything on yours? Scripts? Log-ons? Any form of power?’
‘Not a donkey.’
‘It might be this chamber,’ said Constanza, her eyes narrowed. ‘This is a very special place; maybe you should ...’ But suddenly lights flowed across a bank of computers and ten huge screens filled with colour—or more precisely, with white. They displayed the landscape surrounding the base, a vision of the vast undulating ice plains of Antarctica.
‘What is it?’ snapped Carter.
‘Company.’
‘Company?’
Constanza glanced over to him. ‘The Nex are here.’
‘So fucking soon?’ growled Mongrel, shaking his ECube frantically. ‘I thought we left those bastards back in Tibet; I sure they not following us, I sure they not able to track us.’
‘They either tracked us, or they already knew our designation,’ said Carter grimly. He dropped his ECube into his pocket, and wincing as he moved, drew his Browning. ‘I think we need to have a little chat, me and the Nex.’
‘You’ll need more than that little pea-shooter,’ said Constanza.
‘Why’s that?’
‘Look.’ The screens showed swathes of white, devoid of any activity except the occasional gust of wind. The snowstorms had died. Constanza pointed towards a different scanner. ‘We do not have visual contact yet, but this shows the advance.’
‘Advance?’ rumbled Mongrel. ‘You make it sound like an army.’
‘You see all the tiny amber dots?’
‘Y’har?’
‘Each one is a cluster of infantry. Moving in on foot.’
‘What those grey dots?’
‘Tanks.’
‘That many tanks?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t see signs of air support,’ said Carter. ‘I assume the surrounding air defences have kicked in?’
Constanza typed at the keyboard. ‘Yes, there have been fifteen attempts at aerial infiltration; all fifteen craft have been utterly destroyed.’
‘Come on,’ said Carter. ‘Let’s get up to the roof. See if we can get some life pumped into these ECubes. How long for you to initiate the Warhead?’
Constanza took a deep breath. ‘I can have it primed and base-fuelled in twenty minutes. But the target data which needs uploading—well, depends on how much of it there is. I could have done it remotely but—’ She glanced at the screens, which still showed a beautiful unsullied crystalline white landscape. An Antarctic paradise. ‘Looks like we’re not going to be on our own for much longer. I would say about thirty minutes, as an estimate.’
‘What’s the sighting distance on visual—on the screens?’
‘Probably around two klicks. The plateau is pretty flat.’
‘And the ice will happily support their tank
s?’
‘Yes. As long as they spread machinery out—which, looking at the scanners, is a tactic they’ve already employed. They know the terrain, Carter, they know this place; and that confuses me.’
‘Why?’
‘If they know this place, why haven’t they already taken the Warhead?’
Carter scratched his stubbled face. ‘A problem for another decade. Come on, Mongrel, let’s get up to the roof. Is there ammo for the MGs up there?’
‘Alloy floor panels. You’ll see it. You planning to fight?’
‘We’ve got to hold them off. Can you program the Warhead once it’s in the air?’
‘No. That would be too open to abuse. Once the targets are loaded, you can make suggestions, sure. But the Warhead has its own brain. Its own intelligence. Its own sentience.’
‘The fucker.’
Carter and Mongrel sprinted from the chamber, grabbed clothing and heavy jackets from lockers, and pounded towards the steep metal stairs leading to the roof. As they ran, Mongrel panting and red in the face, Carter merely gleaming with the sweat of effort, Mongrel shouted, ‘We can’t hold off the Nex, Carter. There are thousands of the cunts.’
‘We have no choice.’
‘They have tanks.’
‘We have no fucking choice. Now get your fat arse up those stairs, soldier. Let’s see some fucking effort—and I hope to God that Jam and The Priest have sent the data, because ... Jesus, if they haven’t then everything is fucked. And I mean everything.’
The roof of the Castle was coated in layers of ice and snow. Carter climbed out onto it, the portal rotating below him until it blocked off the building’s interior. The cold slammed him in the face, biting his skin. He and Mongrel glanced at the vast expanse of roof around them. Small machine-gun turrets sat, attached to some form of rail system along the crenellated wall’s base—which meant that each gun could effectively cover the whole length of the wall. There were six massive guns spaced along each barricade.
‘Those walls way too large for us to cover alone,’ said Mongrel, staring in disbelief at the expanse before them.
‘They’re going to try and infiltrate the base by the front door,’ said Carter.
‘How you know?’
‘It’s the only entrance, according to Constanza.’
He pulled out his ECube, and it flickered once more into life. Carter sighed in relief, then checked for messages.
‘Jam?’
‘No,’ said Carter bitterly. ‘Nothing. What the fuck are they doing? We’re here, primed, ready to fucking launch and we haven’t got the targets. For Christ’s sake!’
‘Jam will come through.’
Carter shook his head. ‘Come on, let’s check these guns.’
They crunched across the ice, eyes constantly scanning the bleak horizon. Coming to the first gun turret, Carter leapt into the chassis and immediately mechanisms hummed into place. A scope dropped to cover his eyes; alloy panels sprang up from the floor behind the gun, cracking ice and sending powdered snow drifting into the air. Huge coils of bullets gleamed as the gun clicked and whirred, like a living, breathing thing all around Carter. He felt suddenly cocooned, enclosed—entombed.
‘That not gun,’ said Mongrel. ‘That fucking exoskeleton.’
Carter squinted through the scope. ‘Still can’t see them. Maybe Constanza was wrong.’
‘No, Carter, no. That false hope talking.’
Suddenly Mongrel started dancing around in the snow and whooping. Carter was just about to make some scathing comment when the other man dragged free his ECube and held it up triumphantly, like a trophy. Then he huddled over the tiny device.
‘We got message!’
‘And?’
‘It from The Priest!’
‘And?’
‘It contain data ... scrolling now. Wow, WarFacs, Dreadnoughts, NEP plants, armoured divisions ... fuck, Carter, those Spiral boys and REB girlies sure been busy!’
‘And they’re all confirmed coordinates?’
‘Yeah, Carter! We got data! All confirmed! We got it!’
Carter smiled, relief flooding through him. ‘Good stuff. Get it down to Constanza, then let’s get this fucking Warhead launched and get the absolute fuck out of this place. I can do without my own private dogfight right now.’
Mongrel turned, and started to sprint across the ice towards the roof portal.
‘Wait! Mongrel?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Did it have the EDEN depots?’
‘Let Mongrel check.’
Mongrel stooped over his ECube once more. His intensity was complete, mind focused, eyes scanning through the digits. Carter heard the click of a reset and, cursing, climbed from the gun emplacement and ran over to Mongrel, who glanced up, frowning, heavy creases lining his battered brow.
‘No EDEN depots?’
‘No.’
‘What does it say?’ Carter stood, hands on his hips, breath steaming. The expression in his eyes was cold and glazed.
‘It give reference for a further follow-up. That mean Jam gone after the EDEN depots but his tech not yet come in. We got everything we need to bring down Durell’s empire, but without that info from Jam then EDEN still be launched—and every man, woman and child on planet be wiped out!’
‘So we’ve only got half of the Holy Grail? Shit.’
‘What fucking game Jam playing?’
‘I don’t know, my friend. I just don’t know. Get that data down to Constanza. At least she can begin her job and start the upload.’
Mongrel moved away, and Carter turned back towards the black silhouette of the gun.
‘And Mongrel?’
‘Yeah, boss?’
Carter pointed towards the distant horizon and with a voice as cold as a frozen lake of blood he said, ‘Don’t be too long. The Nex are here.’
The distant black sweep of an army had appeared far off—but not far enough—in the snow.
It seemed to fill the icescape. It seemed to fill the world. Without a word, Mongrel disappeared into The Castle. Shivering, Carter surveyed the entirety of the Nex army alone.
CHAPTER 17
THE TASTE OF A MACHINE SOUL
¬ systems initiating >>>
code 5; procedures 5, 15, 432, 23, 1, 2, 765, 3
power sources uploading
power routes reconnected
¬ battle data online; scanning ...
¬ ok
¬ battle data initiated
¬ ok
897897689745
934578489578947
4357894754758974598749875-044
547598748579847509437598743985705=
45874987598437594305
000
¬ ok
¬ ready for war
Carter ran to the modest battlements and his gaze swept the horizon. The Nex were advancing in small tactical groups. They carried machine guns, sub-machine guns and rocket launchers, and numbered in the thousands. And there were tanks—old-style Spiral-built SP57s and SP60s with triple heavy-calibre machine guns and twin 135mm M512 smooth-bore cannons firing HEAT-X2 combat rounds. There were original Nex-built TK79s, with 105mm guns and triple 7.62mm MGs—but, horrifyingly, there were also the new model TK90s used for urban crowd control. Carter had seen them in action in London and New York City: they had side-mounted flame-throwers. They were devastating in action, especially when unleashed against peaceful protesters bearing nothing more threatening than banners and placards. Carter counted at least a hundred of the heavily armoured tracked vehicles, and mixed in with them were HTanks, uncloaked, matt black and menacing.
How long can we hold them? Carter laughed to himself.
Hold them? Hold a fucking army?
Carter leapt into a rail-mounted MG turret and activated the power. A small black flat-screen display popped up, and Carter frowned at the options presented to him. He pulled a helmet onto his head and rested his hands against the twin grips of the huge gun. On the floor there were pedals and
he tested one experimentally. There were instant whirrs and motors slammed the gun along the rails to the right. Carter nodded to himself, looked into the sight and saw the Nex—black-clad, copper-eyed, menacing—leap into view. He watched their rhythmic marching steps matched perfectly as the black-clad scourge poured across the ice fields.
‘Come and get it, you fuckers.’
‘Need a hand?’
‘I’ll let you free when you tell me how—and why—Constanza knows of you.’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘Constanza, as I have already stated, is a traitorous bitch. What makes you think she is putting the right coordinates into that fucking Warhead? What makes you think she wants to save the world? Ha! She will kill us all...’
‘Kade—just go away. We will talk later.’
Carter almost felt Kade grinning at the back of his mind. Then the dark twin departed and Carter was left alone, shivering with the intense cold, a chill wind biting at his exposed skin as he waited alone on the roof of a deserted Spiral base to face an entire army of the enemy. Maybe Kade would do a better job? he thought. Maybe Kade would win the war?
Mongrel appeared, sprinting, his red face puffed and his belly bouncing. He skidded to a halt beside Carter. ‘She uploading data now. She a little panicked, Carter—and rightly so! She say she need Jam’s data in next ten minutes or so, or she have to launch the Warhead without ... and ... no, no, Mongrel does not have heart to tell you!’ ‘What is it?’
‘Aww, Carter, it not good news.’
‘What the fuck is it?’
‘Constanza say the core RI has changed.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘The Warhead, it sentient. It can think. It has been doing some of its own reprogramming; changing its own code. Who know what fucking loony machine thinking now ... Constanza say if we launch Warhead it may behave unpredictably. She not understand what all the code does, and she one of best programmers alive, Carter, I swear that true.’
Carter breathed deeply. He stared at the distant advancing army.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘that we have more urgent problems at the moment. Get yourself into a gun turret; we need to kick some Nex arse.’
‘Carter, man, we cannot stand against that!’