I woke for real. Screaming. I was no longer strapped to the couch. I was free. The cell door was open. Rannu was standing over me. He looked awful, gaunt and wasted. Despite having black lenses for eyes there was something haunted about his expression. Something new. He looked afraid.
He was wearing combat trousers but was barefoot. He had on a filthy greying T-shirt and was carrying a gauss carbine in one hand, another slung across his back. In his other hand was a severed hand hooked up to some kind of miniaturised device that pumped warm blood through dead flesh.
‘Did you undo the straps?’ I asked inanely.
He shook his head. Did she do it?
‘Can you stand up?’ he whispered urgently.
If I could betray my dead lover and fuck the Grey Lady then I could stand up. I climbed off the couch and almost collapsed. Maybe I could have stood up in Earth gravity. Rannu helped me stand.
‘She’s dead,’ I told him, feeling my face crumple as if I was about to start sobbing again.
He looked into my lenses. ‘I know.’
Did he? How much? Did he know what I’d done? There’s always time for self-pity. I hugged him and started to sob. He hugged me back, unconcerned that I was naked.
‘We need to go. You’ll have to walk yourself.’ He sounded nervous. I don’t think I’d ever heard Rannu sound nervous before.
I let him go. I could just about stand. I noticed that he was missing the tip of his forefinger on his right hand. It made sense that they’d remove his weighted monofilament garrotte.
‘Can you hold a gun?’ Rannu asked. I nodded.
I wasn’t weak from my incarceration, just numb and not used to being on my feet again. Rannu handed me the gauss carbine and unslung the one across his back. We looked at each other for a while. I was so glad to see him, but maybe dying or even being brainwashed, if it meant forgetting, would have been better.
Selfishly, irrationally, I was suddenly angry at him. Where was he when Rolleston shot Morag? Why didn’t he rescue me before I disgraced myself with Josephine? Then I knew that he couldn’t have done anything about the first and the last was all on me, piece of shit that I am.
He turned and headed out the door, looking like a tired soldier. He moved more slowly and with less grace than before. I followed him out. He closed the cell door and pressed the still-warm severed hand on the biometric lock. The cell door locked behind us.
We played hide and seek in corridors lasered out of the huge stalactite decades ago. He took me up into the vents, also carved out of stone, to an automated machine room for the air-handling equipment. It was full of the detritus of his fugitive life.
He sat down with his head in his hands and shook. In a quivering voice he asked me to go on guard. Only then did I see how much coming to get me had cost him.
Then I noticed the corpse in the corner of the room. A squat, powerfully built man with the endomorphic body type I’d come to connect with Lalande 2 colonists. He had a screwdriver sticking out the back of his skull. One of his hands was missing. Still he had clothes. Getting the clothes off the corpse seemed to require a lot more effort than it should have. I got out of breath quickly and could feel the planet pushing down on me again. I hated this place.
‘I needed to get you out of the cell,’ he said, explaining the corpse.
‘Is he Black Squadron?’ I asked.
Rannu shook his head. His hair was a matted mess.
‘No. Kiwi SAS, I think.’
I was impressed that Rannu, in this state, could take out another special forces operative.
‘Poor bastard.’ There was genuine regret in his voice.
‘What happened?’ I asked. Wondering how bad it must have been to transform the Rannu I knew into this wreck. He shook his head again.
‘I got down fine, made it beneath the surface. I set up observation posts, did recces but I was learning nothing, doing nothing. The whole idea of me going ahead was so that when you guys got here I’d have some solid intel for you.’
‘Knew I was coming, did you?’ I asked.
He smiled and nodded, calmer now. The one good thing about his state was that I was pretty sure he hadn’t been brainwashed. He was in too much of a mess.
‘Morag was coming,’ he said by way of explanation.
‘You couldn’t get close enough to anything because Demiurge controls everything electronic?’ I asked.
Rannu nodded. ‘The priority was the Citadel, and I got close, but getting close is exactly like looking at an arcology made of ice. It didn’t tell me anything, though I got a more up-to-date idea of their external defences. It’s also bigger than we thought.’
‘They’ve added to it using conventional materials?’ I asked. It was better to think about other things.
‘No, it’s all ice.’
‘How’s that work? If it was cut out of a glacier, how could they make it bigger?’ Rannu shrugged. I don’t think it was of a great deal of interest to him.
‘So then I came up to Moa City, see if I could find out anything. Maybe even develop some humint sources …’
‘Stuck out like a sore thumb and got caught?’ Rannu nodded again. ‘I bet you gave them one hell of a fight.’
Rannu didn’t answer. I looked at him questioningly. Had the Grey Lady hopelessly outclassed him as well?
‘They sent some of the Black Squadron guys after me. They’re like Rolleston, maybe not as hard. I had my pistols on me …’ He looked ashamed of himself.
‘Rannu, don’t worry about it. Josephine got me. I didn’t even land a blow on her. She just walked all over me.’
‘I got one of them.’
‘That’s better than the rest of us.’
‘They took my kukri.’
To us it was just a big sharp knife. In my case, one I’d been attacked with. To Rannu it was an important part of his heritage, a connection to his family, his people and their past. It was also a symbol of the achievements of the Ghurkha regiment, one of the most, if not the most effective conventional regiment in the British army.
‘I’m sorry, man.’ Even if it seemed trivial next to Morag’s death. Don’t think about Morag; concentrate on Rannu.
‘I broke,’ Rannu said. Hearing his voice when he said it – the despair, the disgust with himself, the shame – was one of the most frightening things I think I’d ever heard. This was a different person. Those bastards had transformed Rannu, the rock, one of the most competent, reliable and professional soldiers I’d ever met, into this shell. What worried me was that Rannu had been captured before and hadn’t broken. While working undercover for the police in Leicester his cover had been blown. He’d been extensively tortured by the Thuggee crime syndicate he’d been infiltrating. He had held out, and the Thuggees were known to be vicious bastards. It wasn’t torture that had done this to Rannu; it was what he saw as failure. He thought he’d let us down. He thought he’d betrayed us.
‘Everyone breaks,’ I told him. Though most lasted longer than I had. I was the disgrace, for so many reasons. ‘They had the RV points covered, nothing more. Did they try to brainwash you?’
Rannu shook his head.
‘Rolleston was there. He was really angry. He wanted to torture me. Wanted to see me break the old-fashioned way, a mixture of psychology and pain. He said that once I was broken then he’d take ownership of my soul.’
It made sense. It was pretty much what they had planned for me with the added bonus of killing Morag in front of my eyes. Don’t think about Morag.
‘What happened?’
‘I escaped.’
‘When?’
‘I don’t know. Two, maybe three weeks ago.’
After everything he’d been through he’d still been able to escape. I was pretty much in awe of him at that moment. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to explain this to him, make him feel better, because he set the bar way to high for himself.
‘And you’ve been hiding up here for all that time?’
‘Not just he
re, all over the place. They hunted pretty hard for the first few days, lots of close calls, but they must think I’ve either escaped or died. I’ve been quiet as a mouse.’
‘Why didn’t you get out?’
‘It’s not as easy as that. It’s locked down pretty tight, but I think I’ve got a way out. I stayed when they got you and Morag to see if I could do anything.’ He turned to look at me. It looked like he was about to cry. ‘I’m so sorry. I couldn’t … I was too … Rolleston, the Grey Lady … too frightened.’
‘Rannu, there was nothing you could do, you know that, don’t you? They would have killed you.’
He looked away from me and shook his head despondently. There was nothing I could say to him that would help.
‘You said you have a way out?’ Rannu nodded. ‘I want to kill Rolleston first, I don’t care if I die doing it.’
He looked frightened. The expression looked alien on his face.
‘He’s not here. I was very quiet. I was lying over a grille listening to them. So quiet.’
‘The Citadel?’
‘He’s gone to hunt the resistance – him, the Grey Lady and Kring. They said they wanted to deal with them once and for all. They’re going to destroy them and then Cronin will use it for propaganda.’
‘What’s your out?’
‘Where’d you get the parachutes?’ I asked.
We were crouched in a tight air tunnel next to what looked to be a heavily armoured vent that led to the outside world. The facility we’d been held in was quite close to the point of the stalactite that was Moa City.
‘Apparently nearly everyone who lives here can base-jump, just like they can climb. It was popular as a sport before the war and has survival applications as well. They’ve just started doing it recreationally again. I stole them from some lockers.’ The talking was keeping his mind off other things. Mine too. I was struggling into a bulky parachute harness in the confined space.
‘What’s to stop their defences from burning us out of the sky?’ I asked.
He stopped strapping on his parachute and looked at me. He seemed to come to a decision and pulled a cobbled-together radio transmitter out of the pocket of his combat trousers. I stopped as well. I felt my heart drop.
‘It won’t work,’ I told him. ‘Demiurge will be able to control it.’
Rannu shook his head. ‘He will, but by then the signal’s gone.’
I gave this some thought. He could be right. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it but right now I didn’t give a shit.
‘The explosives?’ I asked.
‘That was the easy part. Made them out of cleaning supplies that I stole. The receivers for the radio detonators were the hardest thing. No big charges. They needed to be small so they wouldn’t get found. Just enough to take out a few vital components on the batteries in our flight path.’
Something about this wasn’t adding up. Rannu was clearing loose rock from round the edge of the vent. Someone had spent a long time chiselling out the rock the hard way. The explosives, the vent, the sabotage – I was suddenly overwhelmed with horror.
‘Rannu?’ He paused but didn’t look at me. ‘How long have you been here?’ I asked.
‘I told you, I’m not sure. Two to three weeks.’
He went back to removing the rock he’d replaced to disguise his work. He couldn’t deal with how long he’d been here but he must know. Even I’d started to make sense of the calendar and clock on my IVD.
Rannu ignored me as I stared at him. He finished removing the loose rock and kicked at the vent. It didn’t budge. Rannu lost it. He started screaming, kicking at it wildly. Finally the vent exploded out of the rock and I could see the ultraviolet light of the subterranean night.
There was a flash of red light and a loud bang. It was so unexpected that I jumped. Some hardened combat veteran. It was a point-defence laser taking out the falling vent.
Rannu held up the radio transmitter and pressed the transmit button. Nearby I heard a few pathetic-sounding explosions. Rannu threw the now-infected transmitter past me deeper into the air tunnel before he pulled himself over the ledge and out into the sulphurous night air.
16
In the Garden
Mudge calls it the vertiginous moment. Pulling yourself over the ledge. The ground distant and less fixed in your perception than you like ground to be. It should pretty much be a constant. I was too weak and the tunnel was too cramped to pull myself over properly. I lost some skin and left a bloody smear on the outside of the stalactite. It didn’t matter despite what the warning icons on my IVD said. Like the OILO drop, the ground seemed to want me much more than it ever had on Earth and Sirius.
There was a moment’s free fall and then I pulled the ripcord. The ground wasn’t moving towards me so suddenly. Looked up to see the large canopy they have to use on Lalande fully deployed. Looked down to see the ruins of mansions and huge bonfires casting flickering light over scratch-built bestial statuary. Was where we were going any better? Tailgunner had told me that the End was some apocalyptic religious cult of deserters.
The harsh beam of a spotlight cut through the UV light playing over our parachutes. They’d be scrambling gunships and coming looking for us. I made a decision on the way down: enough of the self-pitying bullshit. I had Rannu to look after. I owed him. I had to get back to the others and see if I could undo some of the damage I’d done. I also had a purpose. I didn’t give a fuck about Earth, the colonies or any of the politics. Mother was right: what difference did it make who was in charge? Rolleston, on the other hand, had to die as hard as possible. Then I could give suicide some serious thought.
The ground came up and hit me hard. I shrugged off the parachute harness and ran out from underneath the canopy. Still some stims left in the reservoir. They’d drained off the painkillers but that’s fine, the pain is fine. We ran in the opposite direction from the most direct route out. Escape and evasion training – go the way they don’t expect you to.
We were running over scarred Earth, through scrub foliage, what was left of landscaped gardens run wild for fifty years, past the rubble of cave-like mansions cut out of the stone, our gauss carbines at the ready. I could hear the gunships and copters in the air now. Just think about the job, nothing else. The Demiurge-controlled remotes would be the biggest threat.
Normally we’d stay away from people but the crowds milling near the huge bonfires were our best hope. I veered across rubble-strewn, battle-scarred ground towards a massive pyre in front of a large mansion of hard stone rising out of the ground. For some reason it reminded me of a burial mound. There was a huge effigy illuminated by the flames, made demonic by the red flickering light. I couldn’t make out what it was but it looked vaguely humanoid with horns. It appeared to be constructed from whatever expensive salvage they could find from the destroyed houses of the rich.
All around the fire I could see the silhouettes of people with their hands held high, swaying in the light to the hypnotic heavy rhythm of some kind of music too contemporary for me to know. The chanting came from them, not the speakers. Still running, I glanced across at Rannu, who shrugged. There were more spotlights now from the searching gunships. It was not the lights that worried me but the thermographics.
Rannu and I ran to the back of the mansion and vaulted in through a hole in the rock that still held the remains of a stained-glass window. No time to check inside – gunships too close. If they came for us then Rannu got a burst in the head before I turned the carbine on myself. It wouldn’t be suicide; it would be a sound tactical decision and a little self-preservation. What we had left of ourselves.
Lowlight illuminated the cavernous room. I’m sure the rich people who owned this place would have been horrified by what had happened to it. There was a noticeable seam of some kind of metal running through the wall. Bits of it had been chipped away over the years. The floor was covered with ground mats and military sleeping bags. There were the remains of food. I w
as tempted to eat some of it; Rannu was more than tempted. There were empty alcohol bottles and containers that once held narcotics. Slogans had been painted on the wall but a crude mural of a black sun dominated the room. I’d see the black sun before, in my dreams. Below the black sun, in what looked like blood, was scrawled THE BLACK WAVE. It seemed a little contradictory to me.
Rannu was taking small but eager bites of some vat-grown confection.
‘Rannu?’ I said slowly. He looked up and then saw what I was looking at. Overhead I could hear a gunship. ‘I think these people worship Demiurge.’
‘They are here for you?’
Our carbines swung up to cover the figure in the doorway. Seeing I had him, Rannu swung around to check behind us. More figures appeared at the glassless windows and at the other doorways into the room.
‘We’ll kill a lot of them and then ourselves before they get us – understand me?’ I told Rannu and meant it.
I was suddenly overcome by revulsion and anger towards these people. They had run out on their mates and then voluntarily chosen to worship Demiurge, and they knew it was bad. They called it the Black Wave, not the Freedom Wave.
The man doing the talking was tall and had the solid build of an ex-soldier. He was wearing a long coat, combat trousers and boots, and the rest of him was completely swaddled in old-fashioned bandages. The bandages had symbols written all over them. I’d known enough signal-people to realise that the symbols were religious or occult. He held a staff that looked like it was made out of scrap metal. The head of the staff was beaten into the shape of a goat’s head.
I glanced around at the rest of the people slowly surrounding us, courting gunfire. All of them were swaddled in bandages. At the very least their faces were covered, but many were swaddled from head to feet. Some, but not all, had symbols painted on the bandages.
‘We are not going to harm you. All of us are unarmed,’ he told us.
It was disconcerting. The bandages made him faceless, made him look like an old-fashioned casualty, a ghost from a historical war. Maybe he was. He was right though. The closest thing any of them had to a weapon was the goat-headed staff he was carrying.
War in Heaven Page 42