Age of Aztec a-4

by James Lovegrove

  “I mean it.”

  “Or what? You’ll kill me? You’re welcome to try, Flayed One. But you know as well as I do that we’re evenly matched. It would take a lot more than you’ve got to finish me off. I reckon, in truth, that I’m the equal of the three of you put together, and that’s barehanded, without armour or any other form of defence or weaponry. Shall we put that to the test?”

  Huitzilopochtli and Xipe Totec looked at Quetzalcoatl, who offered a tiny shake of the head. Not here; not now.

  “Thought so,” said Tezcatlipoca. “What do you want from me, then? Am I to relinquish my Empire to you? Is that it? Step down and let you take from me something I’ve spent five centuries building?”

  “I’d like you to reconsider your position, at the very least,” said Quetzalcoatl. “We can dismantle what you’ve created and raise something better in its stead, something more in line with our original aims. We won’t throw out everything you’ve done. We’ll keep what works and discard the rest.”

  “The Empire is the glue that binds this world together. Get rid of it, and I assure you, the human race will tear itself to pieces in pretty short order. There’ll be chaos like you couldn’t imagine. Nation pitted against nation. Ancient, long-buried antagonisms rising up again like reanimated corpses. I know what these people are like. I’ve been living among them for far longer than you ever did. Colonel Tlanextic? Am I not right? You tell them. Without the Empire, how long do you think this planet would last?”

  “Couple of years,” said Tlanextic, “if not months. Not long. Everyone scrambling for advantage, trampling on everyone else in the stampede to get to the top. Powder keg, and billions of sparks shooting in all directions. Next stop, extinction.”

  “I never said it would be easy,” said Quetzalcoatl. “Rectifying the situation will require time, great care and trouble. But it can be done, I’m sure of it. I’m prepared to put in the effort. We all are. We co-ordinate, administrate, make the transition from dictatorship by personality cult to multi-state democracy as smooth as possible. I’ve drawn up plans. A timetable. I could show you, Tez. It’ll take a decade, no more. A decade, by which time humans will have learned how to manage without the Empire and be living in relative harmony and prosperity. What we do first of all is set up a global governing body, a talking shop where individual countries can air their grievances and settle disputes without recourse to conflict. It could even be here on this very island, manned by elected representatives from all of — ”

  Tezcatlipoca interrupted him with a noisy, elaborate yawn, fanning his mouth with one hand. “Sorry. Drifted off there for a moment. What were you saying? Some guff about a global government. Well, I can tell you right now, it’ll never work. Humans can’t agree on anything, unless they’re forced to. You conjure a lovely utopian idyll, Kay, but take it from me, it’s unrealisable; not here, not on this planet. A pipe dream.”

  “I have faith in people.”

  “And I have knowledge of them,” Tezcatlipoca shot back. “And my practical, hands-on experience trumps your ignorant optimism. Let’s face it, this whole enterprise of ours was doomed from the very start. We set out to nurture and enhance an entire species, make it as civilised and united as it could be, evolve it to a higher level of sophistication, but the only way we were ever realistically going to do that is the way I’ve done it, through fear and intimidation. Humans just don’t have it in them to behave themselves, to act responsibly. They need to be bullied. That’s how they treat each other all the time. It’s the only language they understand.”

  “I refute that. You have an appallingly low opinion of this race, Tez.”

  “And you, Kay, have an appallingly high one. It’s one of your bad habits. Like incest.”

  “Do not mock me!” Quetzalcoatl yelled, making a lunge for his tormentor.

  “Ah — ah — ah!” said Tezcatlipoca, standing his ground and wagging a finger. “Unwise.”

  “Heed your own advice, Plumed Serpent,” said Huitzilopochtli. “Don’t rise to the bait.”

  Quetzalcoatl glared at Tezcatlipoca, but did not make a further move.

  “There they are,” said Tezcatlipoca, triumphantly. “Those true colours of yours. The real Quetzalcoatl behind the facade of compassion. The man behind the mask. Your own duality in evidence — though some might call it two-facedness. You came to ask me to surrender my Empire. Here’s my answer: No. You can’t have it. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished here. I like being the Great Speaker. It suits me. I enjoy having several billion sentient creatures under my command. I relish the thought that the inhabitants and resources of an entire planet are at my beck and call. I have power. I have status. I have respect. This is mine. You obliged me to become what I’ve become. You can’t now just turn up and expect me to un-become it. I am Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror, the Great Speaker, and to put it bluntly, you, Quetzalcoatl, brother of mine, and all the rest of you, can go fuck yourselves.”

  He paused for breath, his last phrase lingering sourly in the air.

  Mal looked at the two brothers, who were bent towards each other like the sides of an arch. Enmity crackled electrically between them, a long-held, deep-seated loathing that was all the more intense because of their shared blood. No one could hate quite as hard as close kin could, as she well knew.

  “Fair enough,” said Quetzalcoatl at last, stiffly, straightening. “Our positions are clear. I gave you every chance, Tez, remember that. Now get ready. What you won’t give up willingly will have to be taken from you by force of arms.”

  “Get ready?” replied Tezcatlipoca with a look of sheer delight. “I’ve been preparing for years! I knew this moment might come. Provision has been made. Contingency measures are in place. Come at me as hard as you like, Kay. Do your worst. I can handle it. Whatever you dish out, you’re getting back fourfold. That’s a promise.”

  “War,” said Quetzalcoatl. He sounded weary, resigned, but somehow not surprised.

  “If you want to glorify it with that name. Me, I’d call it a takeover bid. A coup d’etat. And like any attempted coup, it will be ruthlessly repelled and quashed.”

  Quetzalcoatl thumbed a button on a controller strapped to the palm of his hand. The wings on his back extended gracefully and he took off from the terrace. Xipe Totec and Huitzilopochtli did the same.

  “I truly regret this,” Quetzalcoatl said as he rose into the air. “I wish we could have settled things peacefully.”

  “Don’t talk rot,” Tezcatlipoca replied. “You couldn’t be happier. Right now I can almost hear your conscience rubbing its hands with glee.”

  Quetzalcoatl heaved a sigh and soared, Xipe Totec and Huitzilopochtli trailing in his wake. Within moments, the three were above the horizon, and then lost from sight.

  “So,” said Tezcatlipoca, turning to Colonel Tlanextic. “I think that went as well as could be expected. Nice to see the old bastards again and get everything out in the open. There’s nothing like a family feud, is there? Gets the blood pumping, the heart racing. Makes one feel alive again.”

  “What do you want from me, Your Imperial Holiness?”

  “Well, of course we must break out the battle gear and set up our defences. This is what generations of Serpent Warriors have been training for. The drills, the dry runs, the endless manoeuvres — this is where it all finally comes good.”

  “Yes, sir. Understood. I’ll get on it straight away.”

  “With any luck we can have it all wrapped up and done within a day or so, I can still attend the Beijing conference as planned, and nobody will be much the wiser. Institute a media blackout throughout Anahuac, would you, colonel? Get the Jaguars to contact all journalists within the country, foreign and local. Embargo on all photography and filming within a twenty-mile radius of Tenochtitlan, not to mention interviewing. Standard penalties will be enforced for infringement. No reason need be given.”

  “I’ll get on it right away, sir.”

  “But before that, there is one oth
er thing.”

  “Sir?”

  “Those three.” Mal, Aaronson, Reston. “They’ve gone from being an interesting diversion to loose ends, and I do so despise loose ends. They’ve seen too much. Now that they know who — what — I am, they’re only going to get in the way and be a bother. Two of them resent being deceived, I can tell, and the third despises me anyway. I can’t think of anything more imaginative to do with them, so kill them for me, would you? There’s a good fellow.”

  Tezcatlipoca retrieved his mask and headed indoors.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Same Day

  Colonel Lanextic unshouldered, primed and levelled his lightning gun, all in one swift, practised movement.

  “You heard him,” he said. “Let’s not make it difficult, eh? Just stand there in a row, all nice and tidy, like three erect pricks. It’ll be quick. You won’t feel a thing.”

  “Colonel…” said Mal.

  With a pained expression: “What?”

  “Don’t. You don’t have to do this.”

  “If the Great Speaker decrees that you’re to be killed, then you’re to be killed.”

  “Why? We’re not going to be any sort of trouble. We’re on the same team as you. Me and Aaronson are, at any rate.”

  “I know, and it’s a shame because I like you, Vaughn. You’re my kind of woman. And your swishy friend there seems all right too, for one of his sort. Under other circumstances I could see us sitting down together and getting blind roaring drunk and having a fucking good laugh. But orders are orders. You understand that. Especially when they come from a god, no less. So chin up, take your medicine, be a good servant of the Empire. And you…”

  He swung towards Reston.

  “Where d’you think you’re going? I saw. Sidling over towards those chairs. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Crafty little shit. You I’m saving until last. Those two are a chore. You, you bastard, are going to be a pleasure.”

  “Colonel, I’m begging you,” said Mal.

  “It’s no use, boss,” said Aaronson. “He’s not listening. It’s all that fat between his ears. Stops the sound getting in.”

  “Ooh, meow,” sneered Tlanextic. “If I had feelings, they’d be hurt.”

  “Is there a Mrs Tlanextic?” Aaronson asked.

  “None of your business.”

  “I’ll take that as a no. Doesn’t surprise me. You don’t strike me as the marrying kind. I’ll bet when anyone asks, you say you’re wedded to the job. Say being a Serpent doesn’t leave room in your life for anything else, wife included. But the truth is, you don’t actually like women. Pretend to, but deep down, though you’d never admit it, your tendencies go the other way. I can tell. I’ve met your sort before.”

  “Oh do shut up.”

  “The gruffer they are, the more macho they act, the more they’re kidding themselves. Then there’s all your talk about pricks and arseholes…”

  “I have an l-gun here, remember? Pointing right at you.”

  “And you do so love your big gun, don’t you? Compensating much?”

  “Right, that does it. I was going to shoot her first, out of respect. Order of seniority and all that. But you, faggot, just lost the few extra seconds of life you were going to have.”

  “Bring it on, closet case.”

  Tlanextic took careful aim at Aaronson. But while Aaronson had been taunting the Serpent Warrior and providing a distraction, Reston had made the most of it and begun inching sideways again. Now he sprang, hurling himself towards the nearest cluster of chairs. He snatched one up. It was a well-made wooden thing, solid but not too heavy.

  He spun towards Tlanextic. Tlanextic turned to face him, a fraction too late. Reston flung the chair. It sailed straight at Tlanextic, hitting him and the gun. Tlanextic staggered backwards, colliding with a parasol and toppling it; the parasol collapsed as it fell, closing like an anemone around Tlanextic, and he fell too, engulfed in billows of canvas.

  “Hurry!” Reston yelled. “Let’s go!”

  He sprinted for the edge of the terrace. Mal was rooted to the spot, unsure what to do. Her understanding was that you should stand and take your punishment, not flee from it. That was the Jaguar way. Though she had pleaded with Tlanextic and tried to talk him round, she had done so in the knowledge that it was futile. All she had in fact been trying to do was buy time for herself, a few precious moments in which to make sense of the gross, arbitrary injustice about to befall her. It was galling to think that, for once, she had done nothing wrong, just happened to have been witness to something she wasn’t supposed to see. How did that warrant her death?

  “Boss,” said Aaronson. He gripped her arm, and the physical contact broke the spell she was under. “We have to get out of here.”

  Tlanextic was fighting his way out of the fallen parasol, struggling to emerge like a chick from an egg. He was swearing his head off.

  “Do you want to die for no good reason?” Aaronson urged.

  No, Mal decided. No she did not.

  She set off with Aaronson towards the parapet. Reston had already clambered up onto it and was surveying the drop to the next tier of the palace.

  “Great thing about ziggurats,” he said. “Makes for a handy escape route, if you haven’t got an abseiling rope on you.”

  He propelled himself off. Mal glanced over the edge. It wasn’t more than twelve feet to the terrace. She stepped up onto the parapet, as did Aaronson.

  “Stay put, English fuckers!” roared Tlanextic. He had finally extricated himself from the parasol and was rising to his feet.

  Together, Mal and Aaronson flung themselves off. In the nick of time, too, as a lightning gun discharge struck the exact spot where they’d been perched.

  Mal landed on all fours. Aaronson came down more heavily next to her, cracking one knee on the terrace’s flagstones, but he was up again in a trice and limping for the next parapet. Mal ran after him.

  Reston, ahead, was preparing to make the jump. He glanced round, just in time to see Tlanextic appear at the edge of the upper terrace.

  “Move!” Reston yelled out to the two Jaguars.

  Tlanextic drew a bead on Mal.

  “Quick!” Reston grabbed her hand.

  Mal was about to bark at him to let her go. How dare he touch her! But next thing she knew, Reston had plunged over the side, dragging her helplessly with him. They crashed in a heap together on the next terrace down, Reston taking most of the impact with his own body. Aaronson followed, hurdling the parapet. He landed even more badly than last time, his ankle twisting under him with an audible crunch.

  “Oww! Fucking shit!”

  He rolled onto his back, clutching his leg, grimacing.

  Reston and Mal, meanwhile, quickly disentangled themselves from each other. Mal scurried over to her sergeant’s side.

  “Is it broken?”

  “Don’t think so,” Aaronson gasped. “Hurts like a bitch, but I think I only sprained it.”

  “Then you can walk on it. Get up.”

  Aaronson staggered to a standing position. “I’m sorry, I’m crap with heights, you know that. It’s throwing me off. I’m not thinking straight.”

  “Let’s just keep going.”

  Mal helped Aaronson to the next parapet, taking his weight while he hobble-hopped alongside her.

  “One more jump and we should be out of range,” Reston said. “Tlanextic’s already got a poor shooting angle, and it’ll only get worse. Unless he follows us down, that is.”

  As if in response, an l-gun bolt struck the terrace a few feet from where they stood. The impact left a smeary blue afterimage in their vision and a black sunburst of charring on the flagstones.

  “See? What did I say? His accuracy’s compromised.”

  “You ever get tired of being a smartarse, Reston?” Mal said.

  “Sometimes. But then things get interesting again and I remember who I am.”

  Aaronson made an even bigger hash of his third jump than he h
ad the previous two. Hoping to take the impact solely on his good leg in order to protect his injured one, he ended up sprawling awkwardly onto his side. He gamely got up again and made for the next parapet, but it was clear he was in no state to carry on descending the terraces in leaps and bounds like this.

  “Fuck it, boss. You go on ahead. I’ll find another way out of here.”

  “Don’t be a dickhead, sergeant. We can do this. Just don’t think about it too hard.”

  “How many more levels are there? Another twenty at least. I’m never going to manage it. I’m only holding you up.”

  “What’re you going to do instead? Fly?”

  “Go indoors and through the building. Find that lift.”

  “Not a good idea,” said Reston. “There’ll be Serpents all over the place.”

  “So? I act all innocent. They don’t know yet that we’ve got a kill order hanging over us.”

  “Hey!” came a cry from above. “Forget about me?”

  Tlanextic had sprung down from the topmost terrace to the one below, and now the three of them were squarely in his sights once more. The only reason he hadn’t fired yet was because the lightning gun was still powering up for its next shot.

  “Listen, you two,” Reston said to Mal and Aaronson. “There isn’t time for this. If we don’t put distance between him and us, we’re dead, don’t you get it?”

  “I can’t,” Aaronson said.

  “You can,” Mal insisted.

  “No, you can, boss. And you will.”

  “What?”

  “Go.” He said it softly, but in a way that brooked no argument.

  “No,” Mal said, equally adamant.

  “Yes. I can look after myself. Your best chance is Reston. You want to live? Go with him.”

  “He’s got a point, Vaughn,” Reston said.

  “Shut the fuck up. This has nothing to do with you.”

  The l-gun’s whine reached its highest pitch, a constant shrill note signalling readiness. Tlanextic aimed carefully, determined not to miss a third time.

  Reston straddled the parapet. Over Mal’s shoulder, Aaronson gave him the nod, and Reston wrapped his arms around her waist and kicked off backwards.