On the next street, a clank who had the appearance of a human seventeen-year-old stood in a trench on the footpath trying to piece together a jumble of frayed wires. He looked up at us as we passed, his face smeared with dirt, and gave me a little nod in greeting before returning his attention to his task.
A number of vehicles veered past, the majority of which appeared to be old wrecks that had been pieced together from spare parts. They rattled and groaned and spewed out black fumes as they thundered along the asphalt on their way to unknown destinations.
“Malyn!”
At the sound of the voice we both stopped and turned, trying to locate its origin. Emerging from a lobby across the street I saw a clank with the look of an old man: grey hair, wrinkled skin and a portly midsection. He even shambled gingerly with stiff joints. His eyes fell on Malyn and he smiled broadly, opening his arms in welcome.
“You made it!” he exclaimed joyfully.
“Of course, man,” Malyn said, moving to him and accepting his embrace. “How you keepin’, Elias?”
“Apart from the arthritis, can’t complain,” he said, giving me a wink over her shoulder.
I briefly puzzled over the creation of a clank such as this. It wasn’t unusual, I supposed, to have elderly clanks roaming around in the old days. In general they were custom built, usually as surrogates for fathers or grandfathers. Depending on the specs, they might have even been programmed to mimic the health issues of the elderly to heighten the illusion of their humanity.
“You look almost as banged up as me,” Elias said, noticing her limp.
“It’s not that bad,” she said self-consciously. “What have they got you doing over there?”
Elias glanced over his shoulder at the boarded-up lobby windows. “Gah, the usual. Yanking out copper wiring and whatever else they can melt down or recycle. This stuff has been in the walls a hundred years or more, leftovers from the old days before the Grid, and damn it’s hard to get out. They’re jammed in there like tree roots. Almost reminds me of my days landscaping. Back in days gone by, that is.” He looked down at his hands, which were scored with rends and rough flaps of skin. “My hands are gonna be pulp before long.”
“Didn’t you ever hear of gloves?” Malyn said good-naturedly.
He waved her away. “Lost ’em. Who cares?” He put his hands back by his sides. “So what’s the news? Did you take the spire?”
Malyn glanced back at me uncomfortably. “Sorta. We took it, then we lost it again. Lost the whole team.”
“Damn. That’s too bad.” Elias shook his head sadly. “But at least you got out.”
“Yeah. Only just.”
“How did you do that, exactly?”
“You know me, Elias. I can get myself out of anything.”
“That you can.” Elias looked over at me. “And who’s this?”
“This here’s a cleanskin I found out in the desert,” Malyn said. “I figured Cabre might want a look at him.”
Elias stepped over toward me and held out a withered hand. “Good to meet you, Cleanskin.” I gave his hand a solid pump, and as I leaned in I could see spidery red veins criss-crossing his nose and cheeks – cosmetic additions to his synthetic skin to enhance the authenticity of his age.
“And you,” I said. “The name’s Brant.”
“Brant.” He nodded and gave me a smile, then turned back to Malyn.
“Any news on Lunn?” she said.
Elias waved dismissively. “Not a damn thing. They’re not saying much. He’s still under lock and key, is my understanding.”
“Well, hopefully I can change that,” she said.
“Oh? You got something to trade for his release?”
Malyn’s eyes met mine. “Well, I’m not sure. But this is, what? A dozen or more times I’ve volunteered to go out into the field? That has to count for something.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I sure hope so. Good luck, huh? I better get back to it before they lock me up for vagrancy.” He gave me a nod. “Be seein’ you, Brant.” Then he returned to the lobby, where he stooped to grapple with a crate, lifting it awkwardly and hauling it into the depths of the building.
“Seems like a nice guy,” I remarked as we continued along the street. A line of soldiers came stomping past noisily, paying us no mind.
“The best,” she said. Her mouth compressed into a thin line and she pointed into the distance past the soldiers. “The Midway is just up there.”
I followed her gaze and saw an imposing black building rising up from the junction at the end of the street. It was an older style of architecture, bulky and utilitarian, dominated by functional straight lines and hard edges. In the upper reaches, several corners were adorned by gargoyles that sprouted like weeds from the masonry.
“So Cabre’s in there?” I said.
“Might be. Depends.” She had tensed noticeably and I could see lines of worry on her face.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She waited until the soldiers had passed before going on. “I’m just not sure how Cabre’s going to feel about my return.”
“You think he’s going to be pissed about losing his men?”
“Oh, he’ll definitely be pissed about that. I just don’t know what else he’s going to be pissed about.”
I could see clanks moving about on the roof of the building as well as on lower floors, and a number of searchlights swept across the surrounds. As we approached, one of them fell upon us and shone brightly into our eyes, causing me to lift an arm to shield my face. As we neared, two burly soldiers broke away from the others and repeated the familiar process of demanding to know our business before searching our bodies for weapons.
“You guys don’t take any chances,” I said. “This is the third time we’ve been groped.”
The soldier straightened and looked at me without humour. “Dusters are pretty dumb, but I wouldn’t put it past them to take one of their newly initiated before he’d been marked, strap him with explosives and march him in here to try to take Cabre out. I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you. I’m not taking any chances.”
“Dusters?” I said.
“It’s what Ascension call the Marauders,” Malyn explained.
Satisfied that we posed no threat, they allowed us through and we reached the entrance of The Midway at last. One more soldier stood in our way, a female with a blonde top knot and deep furrows in her brow.
“Name?” she said curtly.
“Malyn. I’m returning from–”
“Don’t know you,” the soldier interrupted. “And I don’t recall your name on my list. Does Cabre know you’re coming?”
“Well, probably not.”
“Then go away,” the soldier said. “Cabre’s in a war council right now. He doesn’t want to hear from you.”
A camera was mounted above the door, and it caught my eye as it moved slightly from Malyn and then to myself and back again.
“Please,” Malyn said, “we’ve come a long way. We’ve got important business with Cabre.”
“Come back tomorrow,” the soldier said with a note of finality.
“Listen,” I said, “if you could find a way for us–”
“And who the hell are you? Never seen you before, either.”
“Well, I’m–”
“Unless you want to find yourself in the lock-up, I’d suggest moving away from here,” she said. “Now.”
Malyn made a frustrated sound and her fist clenched at her side. She opened her mouth to continue the argument, but I grabbed her by the elbow and began to lead her away before she could say anything.
“Hey, just stop,” I said. “You’re not going to do Lunn any good if you’re with him behind bars. This soldier doesn’t look like she’s going to take any shit.”
She pulled away from me and scowled. “Goddammit, I didn’t come half way across the desert and get myself buried alive just to be turned back at the last moment. This is bullshit, man.”
<
br /> “There has to be another way,” I said placatingly. “Let’s just think–”
“Wait,” the soldier with the top knot said as we began to walk away. She pressed a thick and stubby finger to her ear as she listened to someone talking through the earpiece. “Yes. Yes, sir. Of course.” Her eyes flicked up to us and she waved. “Cabre will see you now.”
12
We were led along a series of corridors and then up a flight of stairs before being told to wait outside a set of large double doors. Top knot watched us impassively, as if we were nothing more consequential than a pair of flies crawling up a wall. Her gaze was unwavering, however, and she did not take her eyes from us for even a second.
Inside the room, the muffled sound of raised voices wafted out, but I could not make out what was being said. At one point there was a loud thump from within, like a fist striking a table or something heavy being dropped, and I exchanged a curious glance with Malyn.
“Sounds like serious business,” I muttered to her.
“Hey,” the soldier said, “shut it.”
I kept my mouth closed from that point on. Glancing down the corridor I could see a series of cord lights strung up along the wall to provide illumination, their protective wire frames blackened and discoloured with age. When coupled with the aging interior of the building, the temporary nature of the lighting almost seemed to indicate a renovation was taking place. Perhaps it was.
Suddenly the doors were thrown open and several soldiers streamed out, taking no notice of us as they hurried away on seemingly urgent business. Inside the room, several more soldiers stood around a table that was covered in maps and papers and was brightly illuminated from above. Discussions had shifted to far more hushed tones, but the intensity had not lessened in the slightest. The posture of those involved was stiff and angular, and there was much finger pointing and sharp movements of hands.
A tall male dressed in a black uniform stepped away from the group, holding up a hand to silence those around him, and turned his attention to the door for the first time. His eyes fell on Malyn and he made a curt motion with his fingers.
“In,” he said simply.
Top knot nodded crisply in the direction of the door and watched us walk past before following us inside the room. There were several clanks still within the chamber and they turned to observe us as we approached, their conversation ended for the moment.
“Malyn, what the hell happened out there?” the clank in black said. He was a good head taller than average and equipped with an impressive physique, his chest pressing against his uniform and his arms thick and muscular.
“Cabre, I’m sorry, it all went to hell.”
So this is him, I thought. The one who holds the key to my future. To our future.
Cabre rolled away the maps and flipped over the papers on the desk as we neared, careful to keep his secrets to himself.
“Well, I know that,” Cabre said, irritated. “I want to know how. You’re the only one who’s returned.”
“The assault on the spire went bad,” Malyn began. “I mean, the fireteam took out the Marauders who were guarding it, but the team was lost in the process.”
“So the spire is unguarded?” another male said gruffly. He was the same height as Cabre but had the appearance of one much older, his face haggard and his skin mottled. There was a hardness to his face, like he’d been chiselled from oak.
“There were others,” Malyn said. “More Marauder reinforcements were on their way.”
“And how did you get out?” the haggard clank said, his eyes narrowing. “Or do I even have to ask? You cowardly little bitch.”
“Targen, enough,” Cabre said sharply. “That’s not necessary.”
Targen moved closer, unperturbed. “How many Duster dicks did you have to suck–”
“I said that’s enough, Major General,” Cabre said quietly but with authority. The formality of the reproach seemed to break through Targen’s ire and he relented, turning his back and pacing away with an amused look on his face.
“So they own the spire. Again,” a third clank said ruefully. He was of average height, with shoulder-length hair, and one of his eyes was missing. In its place was simply a gaping black hole in which I could see tiny flecks of silver.
“Yeah, Gunrix, I guess they do,” Malyn said.
“Then we wasted good men for nothing,” Gunrix said.
“It’s not going to matter,” Cabre said. “It’s a regrettable loss, but we need to shift our focus now.”
“Well, we don’t have much choice,” Targen growled. “They’re making the decisions for us. If we’d have gone after them a month ago like I’d suggested–”
“Things were different a month ago,” Cabre said. “We’ve been over this, Targen.”
“And aren’t we supposed to predict what’s going to happen?” Targen said. “Aren’t we the brains trust of this operation? Or are we just going to keep reeling from one disaster to the next like fuckin’ passengers on the express train to Hell?”
“I’m not discussing any more of this in front of the civilians,” Cabre said calmly.
“Then tell them to get the fuck out,” Targen said. He looked over at Malyn and me. “I don’t even know who the hell this guy is,” he added, staring me in the eye.
“My name is Brant,” I said. “I was with Malyn at the spire.”
“Oh, I see. Another miraculous escapee,” Targen sneered. “So how many Duster dicks did you suck–”
“Brant, welcome,” Cabre interrupted, giving me an apologetic look. “We are glad to welcome all newcomers to Ascension. I am Cabre. This is my second in command, Major General Targen, and my tech specialist and resident scablifter, Corporal Gunrix.”
I nodded to each of them, then for the first time saw a fourth clank standing quietly in the corner. This one was a female with dark hair who towered over even Targen and Cabre. She was so tall, in fact, that she had to stoop to keep her head from bumping into the roof.
“And over there is my other second in command,” Cabre went on, “Major General–”
“Liv,” I said as recognition dawned.
Liv directed her gaze up from the floor and her eyes focussed on me. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” she said.
“Yeah, you could say that. You saved my life. It was a few years ago at a checkpoint well south of here.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” Liv said. “I haven’t been active in the field for a while.”
“Well, there’s no way I’m ever going to forget you.” I smiled.
“Oh, how fuckin’ sweet,” Targen said. “Do you two need a moment together?”
“I do apologise,” Liv said earnestly, ignoring Targen. “I’ve had many skirmishes out there in the desert in my time. I’ve saved more clanks that I can count. Too many to remember them all.”
“A right fuckin’ hero is our Major General Liv,” Targen said acidly, and Liv dropped her eyes back to the floor.
“Let’s get back to the casualties,” Cabre cut in. He turned back to Malyn. “We lost the platoon but we don’t know how. They didn’t so much as radio for help. Do you know what happened?”
“The Marauders must have sprung them but we didn’t see how,” Malyn said. “By the time we got there, the camp was going up in smoke and our guys had been taken prisoner.”
“Taken away with the Marauders?” Cabre said.
“No. They were executed.”
Cabre pressed his lips together and glanced at Targen. “Not unexpected. They wouldn’t take any chances with live prisoners. Not this late in the game. What else?”
“Uh, I think Doust was there.”
“Doust?” Cabre gave her a sceptical look, and Gunrix laughed outright. “He hasn’t been sighted outside the enclave in twenty years. Our intel leads us to believe he was actually killed some time ago during a dispute.”
“Well, I saw someone who fit his description,” Malyn said. “Massive guy with white hair and a nasty gizmo
on his arm. If you say it’s not him, then fine. I’m just telling you what I saw.”
Cabre rubbed his neck. “If this is true, they might be further along than we believed.”
“Further along?” Malyn said. “What do you mean?”
“Where did he go? What was he travelling in?” Targen said.
“I don’t know,” Malyn said. “East, I think. But we were a good distance away. I couldn’t be sure.”
“So you have nothing else to advise us about him?” Cabre said.
“Look, man, I’m not some military strategist–”
“No, you’re not. You’ve been sent into the field because of your experience in the wasteland and with the Marauders, and because your instincts are supposed to help provide backup to our fireteams. To help them survive encounters. Isn’t that what you said? That you had extensive experience from surviving out there for so long?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re helping from where I stand,” Cabre said, his eyes steely. “My unit got wiped out.”
“C’mon, Cabre. That’s not fair. I’ve been out there a lot, helping those guys–”
“And?” Cabre said.
“Haven’t I done enough by now? Enough to earn Lunn’s release?” she demanded.
Targen snorted disparagingly. “Not likely.”
“Hey, I survived. I brought back information. And I found a new recruit as well,” she said, indicating to me. “Isn’t that worth something?”
Targen laughed. “Not unless he’s of more use to us than you are.” He gestured at me. “How about it, Scarface? What you got for us?”
Malyn glanced at me, and for a moment I thought she was about to reveal my knowledge of the spire, my ability to get inside it and manipulate it. If ever there was a time for her to do it, it was now. She had everything to gain by betraying me.
“He’s tough,” she said. “He’s taken down his share of Marauders, too. I’m sure we can make use of him.”
The Fires of Yesterday (The Silent Earth, Book 3) Page 10