War Machine (The Combat-K Series)

by Andy Remic

  Klik waited for the killing blow.

  It did not come.

  He waited, anger fading gradually like a storm-bleached sunset dying. He dropped JuJu’s head, and the spikes bone-welded to the dead leader’s skull clattered hollowly. He turned, and saw Keenan lying on his back, arms above his head... but Emerald had frozen, one pointed spike lifted as if to smash Keenan’s face from existence. He heard a voice, shouting, “Get the controller, it’s on his wrist, Klik... get the controller!” Then he was falling as if into a soft pastel ocean and the surf roared in his ears, in his mind, and his vision turned to foam. He dived beneath the surface and sank into blue-green depths.

  Keenan awoke in agony, chest searing hot laser fire. Before he opened his eyes his hand moved to the wound, and he heard a shushing, soothing noise as one might make to an injured child. He opened his eyes and grinned.

  “Thought that had to be you,” he said.

  Pippa smiled down, face shadowed by the single bulb hanging in the stark cell.

  Cell? Shit.

  Keenan, groaning, sat up and glanced around. The cell was indeed a cell, hollowed from what appeared to be a single bone. The walls, floor, ceiling, all had a curious hand-scraped look, as if laboriously chiselled by blunt tools. Franco sat in the corner, knees under his chin, snoring. Pippa offered Keenan a bone cup, and he drank milky water, choking and dribbling it down his chin; then he accepted a longer draught with greedy necessity.

  “They catch us, then?”

  “Yeah,” said Pippa. “You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

  “What happened?”

  “Klik killed JuJu; slit his throat. Cut his damned head off, in fact.”

  “Can’t say I’ll miss him; stitched us up like a kipper. What happened next?”

  “Emerald froze. JuJu had her controller hot wired to his own system; when he died, she no longer received his controlling impulses. So she turned back into... well, into her human form.” Pippa shuddered. “It was horrible. What is she, Keenan?”

  “A creature drifting a long way from home.”

  Franco woke with a snort. His face carried excessive bruising, and he grimaced, a movement Keenan realised was a grin. “You OK there Big Man?” he said. “Thought that Emerald lass was going to whup your ass.”

  “Me too,” nodded Keenan. He stretched, and groaned as pain lashed his system. He stood up, paced around the cell. It was small, had thick bars of bone, and no obvious weakness to exploit.

  “You told him yet?” said Franco, casting a sly glance at Pippa.

  “Told me what?”

  “So I see she hasn’t. OK, buddy, it goes like this. Basically, they’ve arrested us for attempting to steal their greatest living artefact; they’ve invited Quad-Gal media—and I mean the Big Boys—over for a feast of high-profile front-page prime-time coverage. Keenan, we’ll be going out on all two million channels. I can just imagine it, ‘Combat K, Wanted in over Five Thousand Systems! Enlivened, Exciting Execution on the ’morrow!’” Franco beamed proudly at his expansive use of jargon media-speak and alliteration.

  “Executed?” said Keenan.

  “By Laz-Noose,” said Pippa. Her smile was a weak one, “Laser noose, to a layman. The Captain of the Guard was explaining it to us with much relish before you awoke; apparently he fears we have defecated on their religion, attempted a mockery on the Ket-i people’s system of social and political stability. He thought that, if we had been successful, then Ket-i would have entered a state of civil war.”

  “The whole damn planet’s been in a state of war for the past ten million fucking years,” snarled Keenan. “The only benefit the Fractured Emerald offers is that of insider information. JuJu’s tribe were waging a war by utilising illegal information on future tactical movements! Jesus! The Ket can stick their fucking execution. We’re going to get out of here.”

  Pippa shrugged. “What happens is this: We’ll be given brain-stim injections and then executed by Laz-Noose, all in front of a baying, bloodthirsty, Quad-Gal media-savvy crowd. Apparently, we drop through a trapdoor on a specially built platform, we strangle; then the Laz-Nooseinitiates to cut off our heads. But, because of the injected brain-stim, the decapitated head then stays alive for another 72 hours, allowing successive and extensive torture to continue. Headless, a victim is subjected to a whole host of face and brain mangling. It’s a wonderfully inventive system. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Just ace,” said Keenan, slumping back to the floor. “We’ll have to act before the brain-stim, is that what you’re saying?”

  Pippa nodded. “When they give us that, it’s game over. We’re puppets.”

  Keenan thought for a moment. “We’re puppets anyway. What happened to Klik?”

  “After killing JuJu, he passed out. They carried him away, then overpowered our little band. Franco put up a fight, as you can see, although he looks like he took more than he gave.”

  “Hey, there were fifteen of them, all big buggers, and they jumped me from behind,” said Franco.

  “That’s the way you always tell it,” laughed Pippa.

  “Hey, but that’s what happens to little guys like me.”

  “No chance, Franco; I’ve seen you drunk, and you cause a hundred damn fights! You always come off worse, and in the morning regale any poor bastard who’ll listen with the tale of how you were jumped by an unfeasibly large group of blokes, from behind, naturally, but you put up a stunning display of bravado before they wore you down and the final, swaying pugilist knocks you out with his dying breath; or something.”

  “Get stuffed,” said Franco.

  “Aww, don’t sulk liccle Franco. I’m sure you’ll get plenty of opportunity to play at being the martial arts hero real soon. After all...” She peered between the door bars, “they’ll be coming to kill us in a few hours.”

  “Will you two be quiet,” snapped Keenan. “I’m trying to think.”

  “Better be quick,” said Pippa. “They’re coming now.”

  Keenan and Franco leapt to their feet. Stripped of weapons and armour, they felt naked. Keenan’s chest, which had been stapled together without anaesthetic, filled him with a raw burning fire. It added a necessary urgency to his predicament, a reminder that he wasn’t immortal and could die as easily as the next man.

  A door hissed open.

  Footsteps padded quietly.

  Emerald appeared, slim and black-skinned, her veins still standing out as green against ebony flesh, only dull now, as if an inner light had been turned down. She stopped, ringlets tumbling around her naked body, feet scraping a little on the bone floor. Her toes were dusted with pulverised bone. Her fingers took hold of the bars. She looked in at Combat K with glowing green eyes.

  “Nice of you to attend the peepshow,” growled Franco.

  Keenan kicked him.

  “Ow! What you do that for?”

  Keenan gave a short bow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t manage to get the controller. I failed right at the start in this simplest of challenges; I apologise.”

  “There is no need for apology.”

  Emerald opened her hand; there against her skin nestled a chip, which was the twin to the one implanted above her heart—or where her heart would have been, had she been human.

  “You are free?” asked Keenan.

  Emerald nodded. “Thanks to you and your team. You led Klik to JuJu. You instigated this whole situation, if not directly by removing the controller from JuJu’s dead grasp.”

  “So you are free?” repeated Keenan.

  “Not yet. It’s taking them a while to work out how JuJu controlled me; it is, apparently, a secret passed from clan to clan, from father to son, down the ages. When I shifted back...” she paused for a moment, and Keenan thought he caught a haunted look in those deep green eyes, “I regained a degree of control. In the confusion, and while Franco battered many of the Ket-i guards, I crawled to JuJu and regained what was rightfully mine.”

  “Hey, don’t mention it,” said Franco, beami
ng. “So you going to break us out of here or what? They’re going to stimmy our brains and laser slice our heads, y’know?”

  “I know,” smiled Emerald.

  “Do you have the codes for the door?” said Pippa.

  “They are not necessary.”

  Emerald reached forward, took hold of the bars, and there was a slow warming of the air. The bars glowed, and Emerald made several cuts with the edge of her hand; she lifted free superheated bar segments to reveal a large gap.

  “Follow me; I have transport waiting.”

  Pippa stepped free and Emerald, moving less like a human with every passing moment, and more like a... Pippa searched her memory. Yes, she decided, more like a feline, with lazy grace: a tightly reined but incredible power, not easily recognisable without combat to bring the obvious lethality to the fore.

  Pippa followed Emerald closely, and, stopping at the end of the corridor, Emerald ripped a steel door from a locker and showed them their weapons and packs. Eager hands took guns, and Franco turned, eyeing a gun-rack bearing Kekra quad-barrel machine pistols. “Hey, Emmy, can you...” he gestured. “Y’know?”

  Emerald snapped the lock as if it were plastic.

  Franco hoisted the bulky weapons and checked their payload.

  He grinned at Keenan.

  “Smashing,” he said.

  Smoke filled the corridor. Machine guns screamed. Franco, hoisting his guns and crouching behind the steel bulkhead, loosed off a volley of rounds that picked the last of the guards up, sending him cart-wheeling backwards, trailing arcs of blood, and deposited him in a bloody, rag-doll heap. A puddle spread from beneath his peppered corpse. Franco stood up gingerly and stared down at the hot Kekras with something akin to reverence. “Shee-at,” he said.

  Emerald stepped over the six bodies and led the way down the corridor within the summit of the Metal Palace. Here, bone-carvings were melded in a curious half-organic smearing of steel, alloy and bone, as if The Bone City was attempting to repair itself—or updateitself—with more modern materials.

  “That’s the last of the guards,” she said. “It would seem JuJu’s Honour Platoon is loyal to the end.”

  Keenan nodded, following Franco closely, their guns covering arcs as they stepped through an arched bone doorway and onto an open-air roof-top platform. Heat slammed them. Sweat coursed their bodies instantly. Emerald, however, appeared perfectly cool with no indication of discomfort, no evidence of sweat or overheating. Pippa brought up the rear, her MPK set to fully automatic. She’d been surprised twice by rearward attack parties, and a Laz-Spear had stripped the skin from one shoulder, leaving a long nasty blister. Her face was grim and focused for battle. She hated this damn place. In fact, she thought, damned is the right word; a curse on the planet of Ket.

  There, gleaming on the platform, sat an Ion Gunship.

  Down one side, in neat lettering, it displayed its name: Reason in Madness.

  Pippa whistled.

  “Looks nice,” said Franco, “efficient. And I like the name; reminds me of home, kind of.”

  “What the hell is that doing here?” said Keenan.

  “That machineis bordering on military kit,” said Pippa, with a frown.

  “It was JuJu’s personal transport, although he rarely used it. The Ket are superstitious about flying, and it’s bad for morale.” Emerald shrugged, dark ringlets bouncing against bare shoulders. She halted beside the craft. “It would appear JuJu had powerful connections to afford such technically advanced military transport.”

  “Something stinks,” said Keenan. “The ship doesn’t fit this place; and yes, you’re right, we’re talking real powerful connections. We’re talking big money, and bigger friends.”

  “Who knows what political connections JuJu made during the Helix War,” said Emerald.

  “But Ket withdrew from all aspects of Helix,” said Pippa.

  Emerald smiled; it was a little patronising. “Don’t believe everything you read in the media,” she said. “I helped War Control down here; after all, they wanted me to predict the future, yes? Ket wasn’t a simple withdrawal. It was more... political. But for now, we need to leave this planet. The Ket-i are tired of your little invasion force; they are mustering weaponry to take you down. There was an unexpected hiatus with JuJu’s death; now he has been replaced. They have freshleadership.”

  “What of Klik?” asked Pippa, suddenly.

  “He has escaped,” said Emerald. Her eyes were glazed. She tilted her head and smiled. “He has slipped past guards, and is heading for the Milk Sea, and a place beyond, a Gem Rig he calls home. I believe he has a lot of friends there; a place that offers him security, sanctuary.”

  “Will he be safe?”

  “As safe as anyone can ever be,” said Emerald, and her voice seemed a little cold.

  Pippa hit the door release. A ramp descended on a cold hiss of hydrogen. Climate Control rolled out to meet her and she smiled, smiled at the civility of decent air-con.

  “Can you predict our future? Right now?” said Franco, intrigued.

  “I need no special powers for that,” said Emerald. She stared at Franco, at his leer, which took in her unclothed breasts and vagina, goggle-eyed. “I predict that if in thirty seconds you are not aboard this craft we’ll be leaving you behind. And you willget shot.”

  Franco saluted. “Aye aye, Ma’am.”

  Emerald ascended the ramp, Pippa close behind.

  Keenan glanced at Franco. “Aye aye Ma’am?”

  “Saw it on a film. Come on, last one to the cockpit’s a cheesy codpiece.”

  “Franco, you’re unbelievable.”

  “Better believe it.”

  Franco ran up the ramp... and with a whimper of need, headed for the toilet.

  Sunlight gleamed across the Reason in Madness. Green jets fired with a roar, and Pippa lifted the Gunship smoothly, high into a bright blue sky. Below, the world unrolled as on canvas: mountains and jungle, The Bone City, the Milk Sea, the eelmarsh, and distant islands and coral streaming off into infinity. The Ion Gunship banked, sunshine leaving tracer down the stubby wings, climbed yet higher and accelerated powerfully away, Sinax Tapes loaded for an illegal and, according to Emerald, unregistered SPIRAL dock. Emerald was correct with her information; within minutes they docked at the portal, which, technically, and according to Quad-Gal law andhistory, should not exist. Motors whirred, and they were fired up the SPIRAL and through the EYE, leaving at a velocity of LS 0.6 and still accelerating. Ket disappeared into dark velvet folds of space.

  Behind, an Interceptor uncloaked and locked the Ion Gunship to its Beacon. Inside, Mr. Max smiled a cold insect smile: metallic, without humour, anodyne; and with an imperceptible nod at some complex internal dialogue, the Seed Hunter followed.

  Chapter 14

  Bad Old Days

  Emerald sat in the cockpit of the Ion Gunship in silence. Occasionally Keenan or Pippa would ask a question; Emerald simply waved a long-fingered ebony hand, eyes closed, lost to the world in some deep state of meditation. Beyond the gleaming new (and frighteningly thin, oh how technology advances!) alloy walls, the Reason in Madness cruised through the darker corridors of space. Pippa plotted a complex course, attempting to avoid the busier, more populous arms of Quad-Gal; and, thankfully, the ship seemed to be operating well. Pippa had checked out all systems thoroughly; the Gunship had only a few hundred thousand klicks on the clock, and that always made Pippa nervous. To her, this machine was an untested plaything. And, they were heading into battle: into war. They needed more than the real deal.

  As Pippa worked on Sinax Tapes and trajectories, and checked the ship’s idents, inventories and digital charts, Keenan and Franco moved through the stores. Leaving in rather a hurry, they possessed only what the ship stocked; thankfully, it was stocked well.

  “We’ve got two InfinityChefs, clothes, weapons, bombs, shit man, we’ll want for nothing! We’re going to have a ball! We’re going to have a party! A gig, my man!”

 
“Yes, but there’s a high possibility we may die at the end of it,” reminded Keenan.

  “Hey, yeah, shit happens. But what a ride it’ll be in the process!”

  Keenan laughed, buoyed by Franco’s persistent and, some would say, insaneoptimism. They moved back to the cockpit to give Pippa the good news, and found her, at last, in conversation with Emerald.

  Emerald smiled apologetically. “Please, be seated.”

  They sat; Franco produced a long greasy sausage, which he’d sneaked through the InfinityChef, from some hidden pocket. “Just to check it’s working.” He bit the ubër-gristle and chewed oily slick meat thoughtfully.

  “As you know,” said Emerald, voice low, eyes studying the floor, “I wish to regain my former power so that I may, ultimately, die. To do that, I need to travel back to my Homeworld, the planet of Teller. You all understand Teller is a Forbidden Place, and has claimed the lives of millions. Not one person has ever, ever returned. To you, the living organisms of Quad-Gal, this is fact.”

  “Hmm, that sort of shit was playing on my mind a bit,” said Franco through a mouthful of sausage. “After all, y’know, this impending death lark could soon put a dampener on any highfalutin party-time we’d like to work into our travel. You dig?”

  Emerald smiled. “You, Franco, have a long and fruitful life ahead of you,” she said.

  Franco grinned. “Go Emerald baby go!” he beamed.

  “As long as you agree to be put down at the next available SPIRAL dock. This is not a mission for the faint of heart, nor for those who fear for their lives and the journey beyond.”