Web of Fire Bind-up

by Steve Voake

  ‘Understood, 437. You have been granted a ten-minute window to complete procedures, over.’

  ‘Appreciate that, control. Hunter 437 out,’ said Skipper. Then she turned to Sam. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready,’ Sam replied. He felt a thrill of anticipation run through him like electricity as he looked at the brightly lit control panel. The thought briefly occurred to him that he would soon be flying into action against Vermian forces, but he pushed it from his mind. He would worry about that later. For the moment, he was determined to enjoy the fact that they were actually going to let him fly this thing.

  ‘Now what we have here,’ Skipper explained, ‘is a dual-control system.’

  ‘Right,’ said Sam, looking at the two identical joysticks and the array of switches and dials in front of him.

  ‘That means,’ continued Skipper, ‘that any time I think you’re about to kill us both, I can take over.’

  ‘And vice versa presumably,’ suggested Sam.

  Skipper gave him a look. ‘Behave,’ she said. ‘Now this –’ here she pointed to a red button ‘– is the ignition. Basically it does two jobs: First, it feeds a glucose solution through to the insect’s wing muscles in order to supply them with enough power to get us airborne. Then it sends out an electrical impulse which fires them up. Go ahead, try it.’

  Sam pressed the button and heard the hum of a pump starting up, the gurgle of liquid and then almost immediately a low whirring sound which made the whole cockpit very gently vibrate. He looked through the curve of the screen and saw the wasp’s delicately veined wings begin to describe figure-of-eight patterns in the air, quickly blurring into an indistinguishable grey as the wing speed increased. Sam felt lighter, as if invisible hands were holding him up.

  ‘Good,’ said Skipper, ‘that’s very good. Now then. These controls have been designed so that even an idiot can use them, so you really shouldn’t have any problems.’

  ‘Flatterer,’ said Sam, peering down at the ground.

  ‘Oi. Pay attention or I’ll activate your ejector seat.’

  ‘Has it really got one?’

  ‘It really has.’

  Sam imagined himself shooting up into the air at a zillion miles per second. ‘Cool,’ he said.

  ‘Come on, concentrate. Right. Put your left hand on the grip of the lever down by the side of your seat. Found it?’

  ‘Found it,’ said Sam, feeling his hand fit comfortably over the padded handle.

  ‘All right, good. Don’t move it yet though. That’s the throttle, which controls the speed of the wings and makes you go faster or slower. At the moment we’re just ticking over. Now put your right hand on the joystick.’

  Sam’s fingers closed around the stick and he touched the red button at the top with his thumb. ‘Has this thing got machine guns?’ he asked.

  Skipper shook her head. ‘’Fraid not, no. This one’s kitted out for Earth missions so they generally leave out stuff like that. Wouldn’t do for some old chap to see us scorching across his allotment shooting down horseflies with tracer bullets, would it?’

  ‘I s’pose not,’ said Sam. ‘It’d be fun though. What does the red button do?’

  ‘It deploys the sting,’ said Skipper. She flicked a switch on the instrument panel and a red box appeared on the screen in front of them. ‘You see that? Well, you get your enemy lined up in there between the front legs and then zap! You bring the sting up and it’s all over.’

  ‘What about the blue one next to it?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Press it and see.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Sam uncertainly. He had visions of a couple of guided missiles flaming off towards the control tower and vaporising it.

  ‘Trust me,’ said Skipper. ‘I know these things.’

  Sam pressed the button and at once there was a loud slicing, grinding sound from outside the cockpit. Sam quickly took his thumb off the button again and the noise stopped.

  ‘What was that?’ he asked in alarm.

  ‘Mandibles,’ said Skipper. ‘That was the sound of this little fella grinding his jaws together.’ She patted the top of the cockpit. ‘Put that together with the sting and it’s Goodbye, Mr Fly. This thing is a killer, believe me.’

  ‘I know,’ said Sam. ‘It nearly killed us yesterday.’

  ‘What? Oh yes, that.’ Skipper gave a half-smile. ‘You know who was flying that other wasp, don’t you?’

  ‘No. Who?’

  ‘Your friend Mump.’

  Sam was amazed. ‘That was Mump who flew straight at us?’

  ‘Apparently so. I saw the notes from the debriefing this morning. He was reprimanded for reckless flying and causing unnecessary damage to a squadron aircraft.’

  ‘That seems a bit unfair. Surely he was only defending the airfield against attack. He didn’t know it was us, after all.’

  ‘Oh, that wasn’t what he got reprimanded for,’ said Skipper. ‘It was what he did afterwards that got him into trouble.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He buzzed the control tower, did a victory roll over the landing zone and then caught his wing on the top of the perimeter fence while flying upside down. He escaped with just a few cuts and bruises, but the wasp was a write-off.’

  Sam grinned. ‘Sounds like Mump. Perhaps I’d better leave out the victory roll today then.’

  ‘Better had,’ said Skipper. ‘Crashing is so last year.’ She pointed down the airfield towards the perimeter.

  ‘You see that fence?’

  Sam nodded.

  ‘Well, in a minute I want you to fly up over it and then keep climbing until I say. We’ll then head west and fly up over the mountains, OK?’

  ‘OK…’ said Sam nervously. ‘Um, how do I do that then?’

  ‘Simple,’ said Skipper. ‘You just increase your throttle speed like this –’ here she pushed the throttle forward and the hum in the cockpit increased ‘– and then move the joystick like… so.’ The wasp rose a little way off the ground, travelled forward slightly and then, as Skipper throttled back and returned the joystick to its original position, bumped gently down to earth again.

  ‘Easy, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Now you try.’

  Sam’s palms were sweating and he rubbed them on the front of his jacket. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘here goes.’

  He gripped the throttle with his left hand and pushed it forward until the wings began to whine, then pulled back gently on the joystick. He glanced over to his left and saw to his delight that the ground was falling away beneath him. ‘I’m flying,’ he shouted excitedly. ‘I’m flying!’

  ‘Look ahead of you, Sam,’ Skipper warned. ‘Not to the side – look ahead.’

  Sam looked through the screen and saw that they were rapidly approaching the perimeter fence. He turned quickly to Skipper. ‘What do I do?’ he asked.

  ‘Try pulling back on the stick,’ suggested Skipper.

  As it now appeared to Sam that they were about to crash into the fence, he did as he’d been told and pulled back hard on the joystick. In an instant the fence disappeared and suddenly the ground was where the sky used to be and Sam was hanging upside down in his seat, feeling the blood rushing to his head.

  ‘Aaaagh!’ he yelled. ‘Skipper, help!’

  ‘Relax,’ said Skipper, calmly adjusting the joystick with two fingers and restoring the horizon to its proper position. They began to climb gently through the wisps of shredded cloud above the airfield.

  Sam had turned pale and was breathing heavily. ‘What happened there?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, you might want to use a slightly lighter touch on the joystick next time,’ said Skipper. ‘But on the plus side, that was a really neat little somersault. Victory rolls may yet be within your grasp.’

  Sam wiped his forehead and saw that the fence posts below had already shrunk away to matchsticks.

  ‘I’m handing control back to you now, Sam,’ said Skipper.

  ‘Is that wise?’ said Sam, but he eased the stick back and
the wasp soared effortlessly through the blue sky. He felt a sudden, unexpected lightness in himself which came not only from the fact that he was flying but also from his realisation that this strange new world was not so strange any more. Once he had been a lost soul looking for a way out; now he was finding that this new world seemed more and more like home to him. He was growing into himself and adapting quickly to the many changes. Already this new existence was becoming more real than the one he had left behind.

  Sam still experienced feelings of guilt and unease about what had been lost. He missed his parents badly, especially in those quiet moments when he was left alone with his thoughts. Last night he had lain awake for hours staring at shadows on the ceiling, trying desperately to picture their faces and recall the sound of their voices. It was at such times that he felt his loss most keenly, like an ache that never really went away.

  But his friendship with Skipper was nothing short of a revelation to him. He had never in his life felt so comfortable with anyone, never before met anyone who was so self-assured and yet so completely without vanity. She was wise beyond her years, devoted to putting right what she perceived to be wrong. But at the same time she possessed an innocence which seemed untouched by the many evils she must have encountered during her short life.

  He remembered the first time he saw those bright blue eyes, shining in the dark corridor outside his cell and bringing hope where he had thought there was none.

  He realised now what it was about her that touched him. Despite the fact that he was probably dead, she made him feel more alive than he had ever been. She took away his fears and made him want to be the best person that he could be, made him think that anything was possible.

  ‘Thanks, Skipper,’ he said, before he realised what he was saying.

  ‘Hey, don’t thank me – you’re a natural. Should’ve been a bird.’

  Sam scratched his head, embarrassed but not wanting to be misunderstood. ‘No, I mean thanks for all you’ve done. Saving my life and everything.’

  Skipper looked sad. ‘I haven’t saved your life, Sam, remember? If I had, you wouldn’t be here now.’

  Sam thought about that for a moment, about the bike accident and the hospital bed and how confusing it all was. ‘I don’t mean that. I mean getting me away from Odoursin at the airfield. You saved the life I have now, didn’t you?’

  Skipper nodded. ‘Yes, I did that. But now we need to get your other life back.’

  Sam paused and when he spoke again it was with some hesitation. ‘What if I don’t want it back?’ he said tentatively. ‘What if I want to stay here? What then?’

  Skipper seemed surprised by the question. ‘Don’t you want your life back?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sam replied. ‘I did. And part of me still does. But part of me – a big part of me – is very happy here.’

  There was a long silence. At last Skipper said: ‘I think that there are some things we just can’t know. When I was a small child, I used to think that my life in the forest was everything. That was how things were and that was the way I thought they would stay. I thought I would always be there. But then, one day, something called to me and I knew I had to go. Maybe it’ll be the same for you.’

  ‘You think I’ll be called back?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is, my world suddenly changed and, although it was different, it wasn’t bad. Good things have come out of it.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Skipper smiled. ‘Like saving your life,’ she said. ‘I’ll never forget what Arbous told me just before I left the forest. He said, “Remember, it’s not the things that happen to you that are important. It’s what you do about them that counts.”

  Sam was silent for a while. Then he looked across at Skipper and touched her gently on the arm. ‘I’d do the same for you, you know,’ he said. ‘I’d save your life if I could.’

  ‘I know you would, Sam. And who knows – you may get the chance much sooner than you think.’

  Sam wanted to ask her what she meant, but something stopped him. He was learning not to ask too many questions about a future that could never be certain. Pushing the joystick to the right, he banked the wasp smoothly round and saw the sharp, crisp lines of the western mountains spreading out far below them in the afternoon sunshine.

  Twenty-seven

  As Hekken walked across the marble floor towards the circular table around which the other members of the Council were seated, he was aware of eleven pairs of eyes turning to look at him through the gloom. He returned their gaze with his head held erect, his measured, unfaltering progress betraying a certain amount of arrogance and determination.

  Odoursin stood up slowly as Hekken reached the table and Hekken bowed stiffly. The other members of the Council made as if to stand but Odoursin motioned them to remain seated.

  ‘I am sorry for my lateness, Your Excellency. But there have been important developments in the laboratory which I was anxious to relay to the Council.’

  Odoursin’s eyes glinted in the half-light. ‘You have news of the virus?’

  Hekken nodded. ‘Indeed I do, Your Excellency. And the news is good.’

  ‘Then speak.’

  Hekken took a deep breath. The information from the laboratory was of such importance that he wanted to make sure his delivery of the news was equal to its significance.

  ‘The virus has been successfully engineered to meet all of our requirements,’ he announced to gasps from around the table, ‘and the first batch will be ready for delivery in less than a week.’

  Hekken was gratified to observe the looks of shock and disbelief on the faces of several members of the Council, but Odoursin’s face had become impassive once more.

  ‘How can you be sure of this, General? Your last report gave the Council the impression that there were still many problems to be overcome.’

  ‘It is true that until recently there were many difficulties,’ replied Hekken, ‘but, as you know, the team is loyal, hard-working and anxious to achieve success. To this end they have worked day and night to find a solution, and this morning, at last, came the breakthrough that they were looking for.’

  Odoursin’s thin, papery lips twitched briefly into the shadow of a smile, the movement as fleeting and barely discernible as that of a mosquito moving through the dust of a forgotten room.

  ‘Explain,’ he said.

  ‘Well,’ said Hekken, ‘if you remember, we had isolated a virus which was so virulent that it would kill humans in a matter of hours once it was in their bloodstream. But the problem was that it released a substance so toxic to mosquitoes that it killed them before they could transfer it. We tried coating the gut of the mosquito with a protective material, but realised it would protect only the piloted mosquitoes that we sent to deliver the first batch of the virus. If the plague was to be successful in wiping out humans, it needed to be spread by the billions of wild mosquitoes that inhabit the Earth. To give them protection in sufficient numbers would have been an impossibility.’

  Hekken glanced at Odoursin and saw a look of irritation on his face. ‘I hope this is not going to be a science lesson in failure, General Hekken. Please get to the point.’

  ‘I am sorry, Your Excellency. The point is, it appears we were coming at it from the wrong angle. What we should have been doing is looking for a way of preventing the release of the toxin in the first place.’

  He waited for some encouragement to continue before remembering that he had already been told to get to the point.

  ‘Instead of coating the gut of the mosquito, we coated the surface of the virus instead.’

  He paused for dramatic effect.

  ‘The results were even better than we had hoped. Not only did the mosquitoes survive, but the next generation of viruses mutated and produced their own protective coating. This new coating slowed down the initial rate at which the virus multiplied once it was in the human bloodstream.’

  ‘Surely you are not suggesting that
this is a positive development?’

  The speaker was Martock, the Council Deputy who had embarrassed him previously over the discovery of the Dreamwalker.

  ‘Surely if the virus multiplies more slowly, it slows down the death rate and also increases the opportunity for possible treatment of the subject.’

  Martock looked smugly at Hekken with his little piggy eyes, convinced that once again he had managed to score a small yet humiliating victory over him.

  Unperturbed, Hekken smiled and felt the warm satisfaction of knowing that Martock was wrong and that he would soon be forced to acknowledge the fact in public.

  ‘That is, of course, an understandable view, if a little simplistic,’ he replied, enjoying the look of annoyance that flashed from Martock’s eyes. ‘But if you think about it, the longer it takes for the symptoms of the virus to appear, the longer the virus can survive and the longer the subject can move around. This in turn increases the opportunities for the subject to be bitten by other mosquitoes, which then allows the virus to spread to others. If the subject dies within hours, the opportunities for the virus to spread are limited. If he lives for a week, however, the numbers infected increase so rapidly that within six months you will have a human population on the verge of extinction.’

  He allowed himself the luxury of staring straight into those eyes which a moment ago had looked at him with such supercilious contempt.

  ‘Was there anything else, Martock?’

  Martock looked at the floor and shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘Well then.’ Hekken inclined his head slightly towards Odoursin and was pleased to note that he was smiling. ‘In that case I await Your Excellency’s further instructions to proceed.’

  Odoursin took a deep breath and his eyes stared fiercely through Hekken as though fixed on an image of the future that only he could see. ‘Finally, my friends,’ he said, ‘the time is at hand. For years we have been patient. We have watched comets cross the heavens and seen wars rage in every corner of the Earth. We have heard earthquakes shake the ground, while famine stalks the deserts and humans pump their poison into sea and sky. And now the plague that we have waited for is about to be unleashed – unleashed with a fury that they have only imagined in their darkest nightmares. The words of the prophecy will at last find their place in reality, for these precursors herald my arrival. The Great One shall descend from the sky.’