I was wondering how much I still owed this world.
‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I don’t want to die.’
‘Tough shit.’
‘Why am I being singled out for this?’
‘I can’t make up my mind whether that’s solipsistic or just plain arrogance.’
‘I only know what one of those words means.’
‘You’re not. We’re keeping half of our special forces, including reserves, back here for stay-at-home parties, if it goes badly.’ Stay-at-home parties was the preferred euphemism for suicide missions. ‘The rest we’re putting on the ground in the colonies in conjunction with the special forces of other countries who are co-operating with us.’
‘Such as Sharcroft in America?’
The look of distaste that she struggled to control endeared her to me further.
‘Yes. I know you don’t like him, but I am forced to admit that he is the best man for the job. For your information, I am speaking to every man and woman I am sending to die.’
‘Why are they going?’
‘Because each of them thinks that they will live. Somehow. I am sorry to be the one to break this to you, Sergeant, but you are nothing special. Though I have to admit that you do have a few things working in your favour.’
‘That I’m a hybrid?’
‘Yes, and we will be having samples from you. You can either co-operate or I’ll have them taken by force.’
I gave this some thought. ‘Fair enough.’
‘You also have two of the architects of God, both exceptionally skilled individuals, one of whom is also Them-augmented.’
‘And we have Rannu – he’s a skilled operator.’ She said nothing. ‘We have Rannu, right?’
‘You have one other edge.’
‘Mudge?’
She ignored me.
‘My Koran tells me that I should not let my hatred of some people cause me to transgress, that to seek revenge is a human weakness, not a strength. My mother says otherwise, but then such is the nature of her business interests, but I think you truly do hate Rolleston.’
‘Any reason I shouldn’t?’
‘Maybe you should let that carry you for a while.’ She was manipulating me and I knew it. She was also right. ‘Well?’
‘We have to know that things will change. You can’t keep on throwing us into the grinder and then forgetting about us.’
‘Do you see a fucking Fortunate Son sitting here next to you?’ she demanded angrily.
‘I mean it.’
‘You were right in Atlantis when you said there was nothing wrong with just wanting to do a job and look after your family; we don’t all have to be rich, powerful or even ambitious. You were wrong when you said we were eating each other. You’ve been feeding a trickle-down economy. I have no problem with people who become wealthy from their own hard work, but there has to be a level playing field. Everyone gets a fair chance.’
‘Pretty words.’
‘All I’ve got is that and hard work at the moment.’
‘You’re a politician.’
‘I’m a manager. I have no interest in ideology, just in solving problems. Being elected is a means to an end. I’m here because I can do it better, not because I’m sucking cock.’
I smiled at this. ‘I like you. You’re funny.’ I looked past her to Mike and Lien. ‘Is she on the level?’
‘Fucked if I know, mate. Pays well though,’ Mike said.
Akhtar was shaking her head in exasperation.
Lien was giving it more thought. ‘I think so,’ she finally said.
‘Either of you want to come to the colonies?’ I asked.
‘Fuck that!’
‘No.’
‘If we go out there to die and nothing changes, will you kill her for me?’ I asked Lien. Mike was smiling.
‘Sure, Jake,’ Lien said.
Akhtar was looking more exasperated.
‘You realise that admitting to being a potential assassin is not a sound career move for a bodyguard?’ Akhtar said coldly to Lien as she got up to leave. When she reached the door she looked back at me. ‘Go back to Limbo, Sergeant Douglas.’
‘You know that using my rank a lot doesn’t mean I’m any more your soldier?’
She turned to the door but hesitated again.
‘I knew Balor – he was a good man. No, what am I talking about? He was a card-carrying psychopath who had sex with sea life, but a capable one.’ She paused as she tried to find the right thing to say. I didn’t help; I just watched her, trying to keep my face impassive. ‘I think he died well.’
‘Maybe I’ll get the chance to do the same. In your service.’
‘It’s as much your service as mine. Eventually people will realise that.’ She left and I heard her heels clicking down the corridor.
The police released me, though they weren’t happy about it. I got my stuff back and reclaimed my bike. I opened up my comms again and found loads of messages from Mudge demanding to know what the fuck I was doing. There was nothing from Morag though.
Akhtar left quietly in an understated corporate-looking copter after some of her people had taken blood and DNA samples from me. I didn’t feel comfortable about that. I just hoped that they could come up with a way to deal with Rolleston and his Themtech-augmented soldiers.
I had been held in the police compound in the Coventry camp. Mudge was waiting for me when they finally let me go.
He looked me up and down. ‘Admit it. You enjoy getting the shit kicked out of you, don’t you? You’re like a masochist. Look, I know some clubs in London. We could go there, get you spanked, maybe some whipping, maybe a shock stick up your arse?’
‘Shut up, Mudge.’
He didn’t. ‘So are we going back?’
‘I am.’
‘Are we doing something stupid?’
‘Even the big boss thinks it’s suicidal.’
Mudge shrugged. ‘Sure.’
I shook my head. ‘Seriously, Mudge, what are you doing here?’
A pained expression crossed his face. ‘Jakob, you have no idea how fucking bored I am.’
‘That’s not a good reason.’
‘Besides, I got made unemployed.’
‘I’m not really surprised. What were you doing?’
‘Hosting a topical news quiz.’
‘What? Really, on the viz?’
I was kind of surprised despite myself. You never really expect to meet someone you see on the viz. Well, other than the PM. Not that I watched the viz of course. You particularly don’t expect it to be a mate. On the other hand, I suppose that all of us were viz stars.
‘I told you, mate – I’m a multimedia sensation.’
‘So how’d you get fired?’
‘I spat in some micro-celebrity’s face.’
‘Yeah, that’ll do it. Why?’
‘She annoyed me.’
Obvious really, I suppose.
‘Mudge, have you considered that with your people skills working in the media may not be the best job for you?’
‘I like the attention.’
I nodded. ‘Have you heard from Morag?’
‘I will fucking slap you if you don’t stop whining about her.’
Two minutes and Mudge was already irritating me. I checked with God. Morag had checked up on me. I smiled, until the scabs that were my lips cracked open and started bleeding again and it quickly became a pained grimace.
‘Have you got any drugs?’ I asked. He just looked at me as if I was stupid.
I screamed with the pain. Rannu, Morag and Pagan came running. They must have thought that They’d turned on us. I’d tried to keep my self-harming experiment as quiet as possible but it hurt when you rammed four knuckle blades through your arm. It had taken some force to get through my subcutaneous armour.
Mudge didn’t come to see what the noise was about. Withdrawal had given him chronic diarrhoea so he spent most of his time sitting on the toilet alien being c
leaned out. One of his few current pleasures in life seemed to be holding court from atop the toilet creature. This was a nightmare because we were all sharing the space and because sometimes we had to undergo the unpleasant experience of using the same toilet creature.
I was sitting on the mossy floor in one of the little nooks of the communal cavern at the back of the cave, far away from the membrane overlooking Maw City. The three of them came to a halt over me. I cried out again as I tore the blades free of my hand. Blood was pissing out of the wounds. Even Rannu looked surprised.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Morag demanded. It was a reasonable question in the circumstances. I was starting to feel a little bit foolish.
‘Well, you know how Rolleston could walk through railgun fire …’ I didn’t finish. I could hear Mudge start to laugh from his toilet alien throne. I had hoped I’d be a bit more stoical. Apparently not.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Pagan said exasperatedly, before turning and walking off.
‘You idiot!’ Morag said and knelt down and started fussing. Rannu knelt and started to tend to the cuts in a more practical matter.
‘I don’t think you should walk into railgun fire,’ he suggested. I nodded. I was feeling really stupid now.
‘Perhaps you could have started with a minor cut,’ Morag suggested. Another valid point. Rannu bound my hand with what material he could find. I certainly didn’t seem to have any of Rolleston’s recuperative powers. My arm really hurt, and like Mudge I wished we had something to kill the pain even just whisky.
‘That was a really dumb thing to do,’ Morag said as she lay against me once Rannu had gone. She felt hot and was covered in sweat from another training session.
‘Yeah, I got that. How are the plans for getting us home coming along?’
‘Fine. It’ll definitely work, assuming we don’t just get shot by our own people.’ Then she went quiet. I could see her struggling to decide how to tell me something.
‘You’re going to do it?’ I asked. She nodded and then looked up at me.
‘I want you to come with me.’
She seemed so earnest. It was times like this when she lost the hard edge that I remembered how young she was supposed to be. How young she should’ve been allowed to be.
‘Morag, I …’ I started. We’d been through this. I had no frame of reference and we were talking about the mind of a species that had been trying to kill me for most of my adult life. Regardless of how misunderstood They may have been, I just couldn’t get away from the years of hatred and war.
‘I’ll look after you. I’ll keep you safe,’ she told me, and I believed her.
This alien place was the warmest, most comfortable and safest I could remember being since a child. The sad fact was that these previously genocidal aliens had looked after me better than any human ever had since my parents died. If things were going to change maybe I needed to stop being so frightened of things I didn’t understand. If only it was that easy.
‘Okay,’ I finally answered. She smiled. Also I liked to see her happy.
‘And no more stabbing yourself.’
I did heal faster, it seemed. It made sense. After all, the stuff They’d put into me was designed to find unhealthy flesh, eat and replace it. I tried not to think about that too much. It was nowhere near as effective as Rolleston’s healing but with a few hours’ rest the cuts on my arm were starting to look a lot better. The healing process really hurt however.
Morag took me by the hand to our grotto, as I’d started to think of it. We sat down by the pool and she held both my hands. I felt faintly foolish for reasons I couldn’t really explain. I let go of her and was on my feet, blades extended, when they rose out of the pool.
‘Jakob, it’s okay,’ Morag tried to reassure me. They were organic tendrils, white in colour instead of the black I was more used to. They looked like smaller versions of the massive tendrils I’d seen in Maw City. They swayed in the pool like the snakes I’d seen on documentary vizzes. The movement was in no way comforting. My heart was beating quickly.
‘Morag, I’m not sure I can do this.’
‘Its okay, Jakob. It’ll be fine, I promise.’ Her tone was reassuring but I think I sat back down opposite her and let her take my hands because her fearlessness was shaming me. I closed my eyes.
It wasn’t the normal, disconcerting hard click of connection you felt hard-wiring yourself into something. It felt more like liquid flowing into the four plugs in the back of my neck. This didn’t make sense. Plastic and metal had no nerve endings.
Then I was somewhere else. Then I heard the music again. Music sung through space. I felt tears on my cheeks. I opened my eyes to find myself in a waterfall of liquid sparks of light. Each spark seemed to cascade over me in a feeling of pleasant, slightly ticklish, electric warmth.
I was hovering in mid-air. The best way I could describe my surroundings was as a giant organic cave-tunnel like a vein, but this didn’t do justice to what I was seeing. A warm wind blew through the tunnel/vein. It was a conduit for light and sound. Were the light and sound Their thoughts? Bioluminescent lighting sparked all around us, travelling down through the tunnel/vein. Perhaps that was Their thoughts. This was Their mind, after all, not their biology. A purely mental space. I could see junctures where other organic tunnels/veins intersected. I was hovering over what looked like a bottomless drop. This gave me a moment of vertigo but I mastered it.
Morag was right to bring me here. I reached up to touch the tears on my face. I was whole; there was no plastic or metal in me now. I was naked. So was Morag. She looked like Morag, not one of her icons. Her eyes were back. This just made me want to weep more. I was kind of glad none of the others were around to see me like this.
‘The icon?’ I managed.
‘They’re not icons, it’s us,’ she told me.
I wanted to hold her. I moved across to her, floating through the curtain of warm sparks. Everything about her felt real as we hugged each other fiercely. Was this my reward? Was this what it had all been for? I could hear the music. It was the abstract, angelic choral music that I heard echo through space in my dreams, the music that I’d thought the Cabal had silenced and replaced with the screaming of war. It was more real here than what Ambassador had shown me as I slept in Morag’s arms in the ruins of Trenton.
‘Thank you,’ I said to her as I held her tight. Then I looked up. ‘Thank you!’ I shouted. Any inhibitions seemed foolish now. ‘Can we communicate with Them?’ I asked. I wasn’t used to the sound of awe in my voice.
She pushed gently away from me. ‘C’mon.’
Then she dived through the air and through the cascade of liquid light. I went after her, my dive clumsier. I heard a noise. I couldn’t quite work out what it was. It took me a while to realise it was the sound of my laughter. Not a cynical laugh or the laughter that comes with sharing a joke with a friend, or the laughter of trying to make light of a bad situation. This laughter felt like release. As I dived through the alien mind I was freeing myself from my worries and fears. I wondered if the stunted minds and petty ambitions of the Cabal could even understand this. I think this was what I’d been searching for all those years in the sense booth. Not dislocation, like I’d thought, but connection, exploration – a feeling of there being something more.
We dived, fell, flew for what simultaneously felt like a very long time and not nearly long enough. The inner mental landscape of Them was constantly changing. I understood none of it, but none of it was ugly and everywhere was light in different hues and the ever-changing music.
Ahead of me Morag pointed towards a small tunnel-like mental vein.
‘There’s one,’ she called and swooped gracefully towards it. I followed her and tried not to hit the wall. One what?
It was dark in the tunnel. It looked much more like rock than anything else I’d seen. The singing seemed further away.
‘Morag …?’
‘Ssh, it’s okay.’ I could just make out her sha
pe ahead of me. The only light was the warm white glow from the main vein behind us. ‘I told you we weren’t the first to come here.’
I could just about make out markings on the rock wall. It looked like scrollwork, like the designs that Pagan had decorated himself and his surroundings with. I realised that I was wading through a shallow stream of very cold water. It reminded me of fording a burn in the Highlands. The scrollwork seemed to be moving, making disconcerting patterns. It was playing tricks with my head. The patterns suggested strange, fantastical and sometimes horrific shapes.
‘If you come in peace, you can live with them, even sculpt your surroundings,’ she said.
‘You mean there are other people?’
‘I am not a person,’ a voice said. The accent sounded vaguely familiar but I could not place it. The voice sounded utterly inhuman. It seemed to resonate differently from human language. I felt it rather than heard it. Perhaps it was because of my surroundings and my recent experiences, but I found myself overcome with a feeling that I couldn’t quite understand or fully explain.
The light was blue, but not Their warm blue; it was colder like steel and neon. It came from a large and ancient-looking, two-handed claymore with a very sharp silvery blade. The man or icon holding it towered over us. He was powerfully built. His muscles looked like corded steel and seemed almost too large. Steam rose from his flesh and he burned with an inner light. I could feel the heat coming from him. It was not the warmth that blew through the asteroid caverns. Instead it was like standing too close to a furnace. The light beneath his skin picked out the network of scars that covered his torso and arms. They formed symbols and patterns that shifted with the movement of his flesh as he moved towards us. As if they were mimicking or somehow connected to the moving symbols and scrollwork on the stone wall.
I was struggling to think of this as something human. His eyes glowed with the same steel-blue light of the sword. The light could be seen through the translucent pale skin of his face. His ears were long and tapered to points. For all his size there was something graceful and otherworldly about him. He wore plaid trousers of spun wool and a thick belt, with various designs inscribed into the leather, around his waist. His hair was long, shaved at the sides and organised into complicated braids. He had a short beard but a long moustache that was again braided.
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