Macaque Attack!

by Gareth L. Powell

  The cyborg wriggled back on its elbows, trying to squirm away from him. “I was only following orders.”

  Ack-Ack Macaque snarled. “That’s the oldest bullshit in the book.” He raised the chainsaw over his head and the cyborg cowered.

  “But it’s true! I didn’t want to be this.” It thumped the stump of its arm against its chest. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  Ack-Ack Macaque showed his teeth. “Oh, really?”

  “People were dying.” The metal figure stopped wriggling. “They offered me a chance to live.”

  Ack-Ack Macaque lowered the saw and nudged the metal body with his boot. “You call this ‘living’, do you?”

  “I had no choice.”

  “Horse crap. You had a choice. When they turned you into a robot, you had a choice. When they told you to get into a tank and invade my world, you had a choice.” He bent low over the recumbent figure, growling his words. “If we hadn’t stopped you here and now, how many innocents would you have killed before you grew the balls to say ‘no’?”

  The cyborg’s eyes had become misaligned. One looked up at him imploringly while the other lolled drunkenly in its socket. “The Duchess, she would have killed me.”

  “The Duchess is dead.”

  Something seemed to sag in the cyborg’s posture. “Then it’s over?”

  Ack-Ack Macaque shook his head. Overhead, the dreadnoughts were dispersing like clouds after a storm, moving away in the directions of Paris, London and Berlin—large ports where they could refit, repair and resupply. Their engines thrummed, stirring the still morning sky like the broodings of a billion disgruntled bees. The only one not moving was the Sun Wukong.

  “These things are never over,” he said. “There’s always some other ruthless bastard out there, with an army of gullible cowards.” He stepped forward and placed one booted foot on the cyborg’s chest. It struggled beneath him.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to put you out of your misery.”

  Its stump flailed and its hand clawed at the soil, trying to heave its legless torso out from under his foot. “No, please! It wasn’t my fault! I just wanted to live.”

  “Everybody wants to live.” Ack-Ack Macaque raised the chainsaw and levelled the point of the whirring blade at the cyborg’s throat. “But you chose the wrong side. You chose to stand with the killers.” He stabbed downwards, leaning his weight on the handle. With a metallic screech, the chainsaw bit through the cyborg’s neck. It buried itself in the earth below and juddered to a halt, motor stalled. Disgusted with the whole incident, he left it where it was—sticking up like a grave marker—and stood upright. His back ached. He brushed his leathery palms together and spat into the dirt.

  “There’s always a choice.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  STOP THE ROCK

  VICTORIA GATHERED THE crew of the Ameline and the command crew of the Sun Wukong on the verandah at the airship’s bow. Several of the armoured glass panels had been cracked or broken during the fight and cold wafts of fresh November air curled through the greenhouse warmth of the potted jungle, agitating the parakeets and other birds that twittered and squawked among the leaves on the upper branches. A utilitarian trestle table had been set up on the verandah, overlooking the rail, and her guests were seated on either side, perched on folding chairs and stools borrowed from the galley. Katherine Abdulov sat at the far end with Ed Rico on her right, while K8, Merovech, and Ack-Ack Macaque occupied the remaining chairs.

  The monkey’s solitary eye glowered around the table.

  “Okay, does anybody want to tell me what the fuck’s going on? Who are these people, and why does this guy look like William Cole?”

  Victoria stood up. “These are the people who helped us against the Leviathans.”

  “Yeah, I saw. As a matter of fact, I was in one of those tanks when they cut the fucking thing in half.”

  Victoria sighed. Her tears were gone, but they’d taken most of her strength with them.

  “They stopped the invasion,” she said.

  Ack-Ack Macaque huffed. “I could have handled it.”

  “I’m sure you could. Nevertheless, try to be polite.”

  Victoria turned her attention to the woman at the far end of the table. Katherine Abdulov sat with her hands in the pocket of her thick overcoat, and the ankle of her left boot resting on her right knee.

  “You’re not out of the woods yet,” Katherine said.

  “How so?” Victoria cocked an eyebrow. Célestine was dead; the assault had failed.

  “The asteroid.”

  “Ah, of course…”

  “Do you have a plan to deal with it?”

  Ack-Ack Macaque stirred, and raised a paw. “I do.”

  “Care to share it?”

  The monkey took out a cigar, bit off the end, and spat it over the bamboo rail, into the airship’s glass nose cone. “I figured we could fly up there and twat it.”

  K8 smiled. Merovech shook his head. “We don’t have anything that can make the journey,” he said.

  “Of course we do.” Ack-Ack Macaque struck a match and lit up. Smoke curled around his muzzle. “And you’re sitting in it.”

  “An airship?”

  “Why not?” The spent match sailed after the cigar tip. “We use the Duchess’ force field to keep in the air and keep out the radiation, and we bolt your ion drive to the back.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “Yeah, but it’s gonna work.” He moved his one-eyed gaze around the table, daring those present to disagree. Finally, his attention settled on Katherine. “What do you say, space lady?”

  Katherine Abdulov rubbed her chin.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I’ve got no idea. All I’ll say is that if you’re going to try riding in it, you’re a damn sight braver than I am.”

  The monkey scoffed. “And I suppose you’ve got a better idea, sweetheart?”

  Katherine and Ed exchanged looks.

  “You could come with us.”

  “On your ship?”

  “Of course. You’ve seen what it can do. Ed can carve lumps off that rock. Chop it up into little pieces.”

  “That’ll stop it?”

  “No.” Katherine looked regretful. “But it’ll help. Make it a bunch of smaller targets, and easier to destroy.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then your kludged-up space Zeppelin can finish the job.” She uncrossed her legs and set both boots on the deck. “We can break it up into glowing rubble but we can’t stop it. Our weapon isn’t designed to take down big targets. It would take us too long to pick the rock apart with our narrow beam—but, if we dice it into little enough pieces, a couple of nukes from you should be enough to vaporise the remains.” She looked up at the cracked panes in the glass ceiling, high above. “That’s if you can get this heap put back together, armed and launched in time.”

  As one, Victoria and Ack-Ack Macaque turned to Merovech. The young king’s manicured nails tapped the table’s Formica top.

  “How long have we got?” he asked.

  “A couple of weeks, a month at the most.” Katherine gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It depends how fast your ion engines are.”

  “I’m not sure.” Merovech looked thoughtful. “Not very, I think.”

  “Then the sooner you can launch, the better.”

  Merovech stopped tapping his nails. He met Victoria’s eyes. “Set a course for Gibraltar.”

  “Gibraltar?”

  “The ESA has a test facility in the Straits. It’s an old, repurposed oil platform. That’s where the engines are.”

  “Aye, sir.” Victoria glanced at K8. “Do you mind?”

  “I’m on it.” The girl sprang to her feet and vanished into the jungle, hurrying in the direction of the bridge.

  “What else do we need?” Victoria asked. Ack-Ack Macaque removed his cigar and tapped ash onto the deck.

  “Nuclear weapons,” he said.
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  Merovech nodded. “Well, I may be able to help you there. We have a number of submarines in the North Atlantic. I’ll have one meet us there. What else?”

  “Food and water, enough for the whole monkey army.”

  “You’re going to take them all to the asteroid?” He raised his eyebrows. “Surely a skeleton crew would suffice?”

  Ack-Ack Macaque shook his head with slow deliberation. “No, we’re going to need as many soldiers as we can carry,” he said.

  “Soldiers?” Victoria scratched the ridge of scar tissue at her temple. “What do you need soldiers for?”

  Ack-Ack Macaque sucked the end of his cigar. The tip burned brightly. He exhaled at the high ceiling and smiled.

  “After we’ve dealt with the asteroid, I’m taking them to Mars.”

  “That’s your plan?”

  “Yah.” He smacked his lips together. “We’re going to go up there and kick some butt. Otherwise, what’s to stop the Robo-Duchess chucking another rock at us?” His face darkened. “And besides, we’ve got a score to settle.”

  Victoria felt her heart quicken. The breath caught in her throat. There had been a copy of Paul’s ‘soul’ on the probe, along with the stolen personalities of all Cassius Berg’s victims. They had been taken to form the basis of a cybernetic slave army, toiling to build Célestine’s utopia among the cold Martian rocks. There was even a copy of Victoria that had been ripped from her skull during her first encounter with the murderous Smiling Man.

  “I’m coming too,” she said. She’d seen firsthand the kind of twisted sexual depravities Doctor Nguyen had foisted on a different copy of her ‘soul’, and knew she couldn’t leave herself or Paul at his mercy.

  Paul… Could there really be a way to splice the remains of his crumbling psyche with the ‘fresh’ copy in the Martian probe? Even now, at this late stage, could some part of him still be salvaged?

  She became aware that Ack-Ack Macaque was squinting curiously at her.

  “Okay,” he rumbled, reading her face, “that’s settled. Merovech and K8 can fit this beast out. Vic and I will ride with Kat here to the asteroid. Once we’re there, we’ll do what we can to whittle it down to a more manageable size. Then we’ll meet up with the monkey army, nuke what’s left of the rock, and go on to Mars.”

  “And what if it doesn’t work?” Victoria could hardly bring herself to believe any of it was possible. “What’s the contingency plan?”

  Ack-Ack Macaque scowled around the red cherry of his cigar. “There isn’t a contingency.” He sat back in his chair with a growl. “If this doesn’t work, that’s it. Game over, folks. End of the fucking world.”

  ISSUED BY HM GOVT.

  PROTECT AND SURVIVE

  This pdf tells you how to keep your home and family safe during an asteroid strike.

  1. Taking shelter

  In advance of an asteroid strike, warnings will be broadcast on all television and radio channels at the following times:

  i. Twelve hours before impact.

  ii. Six hours before impact.

  iii. Three hours before impact.

  >iv. One hour before impact.

  Warnings will then continue at fifteen-minute intervals.

  When you hear the warning, please make your way immediately to a place of shelter.

  Your shelter should contain:

  i. Enough food and water in sealed containers to last your family for 14 days.

  ii. A portable radio and spare batteries.

  iii. Warm clothing, and changes of clothing for the entire family.

  iv. Bedding or sleeping bags.

  v. Torches with spare batteries, matches and candles.

  vi. Sturdy refuse sacks and packing tape.

  Read more? Y/N

  CHAPTER FORTY

  SURFIN’ FROGS AND PUNCHING GODS

  AS THE SUN Wukong powered south towards the Spanish border, Katherine Abdulov took Victoria to see the Ameline.

  “Call me Kat,” she said, buttoning her coat as they stepped out onto the airship’s flight deck. “Everybody else does.”

  Victoria tried to place her accent but couldn’t. There were hints of Spanish and Arabic influence, but nothing she could pin down. To starboard, the sun was a red ember on the horizon. In the darkness below, the lights of Bordeaux and Toulouse slid past on either side like the raked coals of glowing campfires. Feeling the cold, she tugged at the hem of the Commodore’s military jacket, straightening it. It had been tailored for a skinny old man, not someone with breasts, and so had a tendency to ride up at the waist.

  “Everybody?”

  “My family.”

  “And where are they?”

  Kat scuffed the sole of her boot across the metal deck. “All dead.”

  Victoria thought of Paul. “I’m sorry.”

  The young pilot shrugged. “Don’t be. We all are.” She stopped walking, and the wind ruffled her hair. “Dead, I mean. You and me.” She craned her neck to peer over the side. “Everybody down there.”

  After her recent experiences in helicopters, Victoria preferred not to look down. Instead, she let her hand rest on her scabbard. Her head felt cold and she wished she’d brought a hat.

  “We’re not dead yet.” After all, wasn’t that what this was all about? Weren’t they trying to save the world?

  Kat clicked her tongue regretfully. “Yeah, I’m afraid you kind of are.”

  Victoria was confused. “But you said the plan would work, that we could stop the rock.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Then what is it, s’il vous plait?”

  The younger woman faced into the wind for a moment, and took a deep, savouring breath.

  “Come inside,” she said, nodding at the Ameline’s open cargo ramp. “I’ll explain everything.”

  KATHERINE STALKED UP the ramp and Victoria followed. She found herself in a hold that had seen better days. The walls were covered with scuffs and dents; much of the webbing had been torn or tangled, and graffiti marred the doors and bulkheads. The air smelled musty, with hints of solder and old sacking.

  “This way,” Kat said, leading her forward, through a hatch outlined with yellow and black warning tape, into a passenger compartment lined with rows of threadbare seats, their plastic covers split and frayed, the foam insulation ratty and discoloured beneath.

  “Everything happened a long time ago, and far away,” Kat said without lingering. She stepped through into a short corridor, at the end of which was a ladder leading upwards. Victoria stood at the bottom and watched her climb, then followed. At the top lay the Ameline’s bridge. It was a small cockpit, with a low, readout-covered ceiling and a pair of well-worn couches. Kat took the couch on the right and motioned Victoria to the one on the left.

  “Where?” Victoria asked.

  “Back in the real world.”

  “This isn’t the real world?”

  “No, sorry.”

  Victoria twisted around, trying to get comfortable as she processed the statement. “We’ve seen a few timelines,” she said, “and they all seemed remarkably real and solid.”

  “None of them were, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  Kat exhaled through her nose. “I’m trying to explain this as gently as I can.” She brushed back her hair. “Take your monkey friend, for instance.”

  “What about him?”

  “He used to be a character in a computer game, didn’t he? And when he was in there, he was locked into the virtual world.”

  Victoria didn’t like where this was going. “We rescued him. We got him out.”

  “But did you?” Kat moved her cupped hands as if weighing up invisible bags of flour. “Did you really rescue him, or did you simply bring him from one simulation to another?”

  Victoria narrowed her eyes. The old journalistic instinct twitched. There was a story here and, whether she wanted to know the truth or not, she needed to uncover it.

  “You
tell me,” she said.

  Katherine gave her a frank look. “I don’t think I have to, do I? I think you’ve already guessed.”

  “You’re implying all the worlds we’ve seen, the whole multiverse, they’re all part of a game?” Victoria was beginning to wish she had a martini.

  “Not a game, as such, but a simulation nevertheless.”

  Victoria gave a loud tut. “C’est ridicule! There isn’t enough computing power in the world.”

  “Not in this world, no.”

  Victoria took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said reasonably, “let’s backtrack a couple of steps. Why don’t you explain to me again who you are, and how you got here?”

  Kat sighed. She crossed her booted feet at the ankle and tapped at a couple of overhead readouts.

  “I was born on Strauli,” she began, “which is a planet a hundred light years from here, in the year 2360.”

  “The future?”

  “More like the distant past, now.”

  Victoria shook her head. “I don’t understand.” She was missing something, but wasn’t sure what it might be.

  “I’ll get to it.” Kat promised. “But, to start at the beginning, my family were traders, and I captained one of their ships.”

  “This one?”

  “Yes, the dear old Ameline.” Katherine gave the bulkhead an affectionate pat. “We’ve been through some scrapes together, I can tell you.”

  Victoria reached over and touched her sleeve. “But how did you get here?” she insisted.

  Kat made that clicking noise with her tongue again. “Something got loose,” she said. “Something horrible. We weren’t sure if it was a weapon or a deranged filing system, but it was sentient, and it called itself ‘The Recollection’.” Her shoulders quivered as she tried to repress a shudder. “It rolled over world after world, breaking apart everything it touched, and storing it all as information.”