Veteran

by Gavin Smith

  ‘He who overcomes will not be hurt at all by the second death,’ Vicar said.

  ‘Do you always carry a lock burner in your arse?’ Mudge asked.

  Suddenly there were a lot of people looking at me expectantly. Thanks for singling me out.’ I said.

  ‘We’re going to die in vacuum anyway.’ Mudge said.

  ‘You want to do it?’ I asked.

  Fuck no. I’m not a rory tory combat soldier.’ Mudge said. I glared at him.

  ‘We don t haw much time.’ the SEAL signalman said.

  ‘Well then, you go and fucking do it.’ I said. I really did not want to and I didn’t understand why I was the one picked out. There were lots of special forces types here. It seemed that because Vicar had presented me with the lock burner everyone had decided I was the one.

  ‘Because you are the righteous—’ Vicar began. My blades slid out almost of their own volition, it seemed.

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’ I spat at him. ‘One more religious piece of shit out of you and I swear you’ll meet your God right now.’

  He stared into my black lenses. Suddenly there was no madness in those wild eyes. ‘I don’t believe in God,’ he said in careful and even tones. We seemed to spend a long time staring at each other, coming to some kind of unspoken agreement that I’m still not sure I fully understand.

  ‘Can you hack the external airlock?’ I asked. Vicar nodded. ‘Shit! Fuck!’ I shouted. I was really scared. ‘I’ll still have to fight my way to the other side of that door,’ I said, pointing at the internal airlock that led to the Santa Maria. Nobody said anything. ‘Does anybody even know where the Santa Maria’s external airlock is?’ I said. I saw that there was a text-file icon flashing on my internal visual display; it was from Vicar. I opened it, seeing a schematic for the Santa Maria with the external airlock highlighted. ‘If I manage to get the door open you can’t just kill everyone,’ I said to the pissed-off assembled squaddies around me.

  ‘If you get that door open just leave the rest to us,’ Reb said. I took one last look around, swore again and made my way towards the external airlock. I heard a soft thump as Vicar fell to the ground as he tranced in again.

  I grabbed a fire extinguisher from its bracket on the wall as I strode past it. I saw the door to the external airlock slide open.

  Augmented humans can last very briefly in vacuum. I had a small internal oxygen supply, a reinforced superstructure and internal systems that could, to a degree, cope with the bends. It was still the worst thirty seconds of my life. I can’t do it justice: the cold was so cold it burnt. My joints were agony. I used the spray from the fire extinguisher as propulsion. I don’t know how I managed to hold on and clamber up the Santa Maria. At one point I caught a glimpse of the stars. Against the curvature of the hull I seemed to be at an odd angle. For a moment there was peace and beauty. I was pretty sure I’d died.

  I have no idea how I got to the airlock or how I managed to work the shit-stained lock burner. They found me sobbing, gasping and laughing hysterically on the floor of the airlock. Months later I’d see the footage at my court martial. I didn’t recognise myself. It was like a devil had been put in flesh that vaguely resembled mine.

  My blades found their way into the stomachs of the two MPs. On the footage I watched this monster that looked like me get shot, get shot a lot, as he walked through the Santa Maria, killing everyone he found. I had been shouting one name over and over again. Rolleston. It wasn’t confirmed until the trial that Rolleston had given the order, but somehow I’d known and I’d been looking for him, but he wasn’t on board. It was a grinning blood-covered corpse that opened the internal airlock door to the cargo bay and collapsed.

  Back home there were sirens for our welcome. We‘d talked about running but we had nowhere to run. Mudge had convinced us it would be okay. He’d broadcast the story as soon as we’d entered the Sol system. We were arrested when we docked at High Nyota Mlima but by then public opinion was with us and Mudge had arranged a lawyer for me through some media contact.

  The riot on the Santa Maria that followed our escape from the hold wasn’t much better than my rampage. We were all dishonourably discharged but no further action was taken. We could’ve been shot for mutiny. We were in the wrong because there was no law or military regulation that said we couldn’t all be ejected into space. There is now. Mudge made sure, despite the Official Secrets Act, that Rolleston was disgraced. Though in the end that just seemed to drive him further into the black spectrum of covert ops.

  When I met Vicar again in Dundee he was saner, but the one thing I remember more than any other thing about the trial was him - wild-eyed, drool dripping off his unkempt bushy black beard, screaming at Rolleston. It was the same thing over and over again. ‘I know where you live - where Satan has his throne!’

  29

  Atlantis

  It was the speed of it that got to me. It wasn’t subtle. They weren’t trying to rescue anyone. They just wanted to kill everyone in here. At least I think they did.

  Buck and Gibby had finally stopped playing and had grabbed their weapons as they turned towards the entrance to the docking arm. They’d booby-trapped the transport but that wouldn’t have proved much of a challenge to someone like the Grey Lady.

  Mudge had his replica AK in hand and was making for cover. I had my shotgun to my shoulder and was moving low and quickly towards Morag and Pagan. The overpressure wave from the security door being blown in knocked me off my feet. Gregor remained in place somehow. He raised the Retributor railgun to his shoulder. I was starting to get up when they triggered the automatic grenade launchers. I’m not sure that even during the war I’d seen so many grenades go off at once. They fired flash grenades, EM charges and multi-spectrum hot smoke grenades.

  All of us bar Morag had flash compensation in our eyes and damp-eners in our ears. These can be overwhelmed with enough loud noise and bright flashes, and they were. Morag was blinded and deafened immediately. The hot smoke interfered with both the thermographics and low-light as our vision struggled to return. In theory the smoke should make things difficult for them as well. In theory.

  Some of this I experienced; the rest of it we managed to piece together after the fact. I heard Gregor start to fire his Retributor as I was desperately waiting for my vision to return. There was an explosion behind me as the door to the airlock was blown open. That was okay; Balor was there.

  My vision returned to a room full of hot smoke. I could make out Gregor as a warped silhouette. My dampeners managed to work enough to tune down the long hypersonic rip of the railgun’s rapid fire. I couldn’t see what he was firing at. Rannu could. He fired two grenades from the grenade launcher on his gauss carbine at the entrance hall before swinging around to fire at the door to the docking arm.

  I was searching for a target through the smoke, my vision and hearing still not fully working. I could hear Mudge, Buck and Gibby firing into the docking arm; no return fire yet. Rolleston came stalking out of the smoke ahead of me. There was the bright white flash of his plasma gun firing. He seemed to stagger and stop. My mind couldn’t quite process the information, and I did something I hadn’t done since my first firefight: I froze. Gregor and Rolleston were exchanging shots. Gregor was putting railgun round after railgun round into the Major, and he in turn was putting plasma round after plasma round into Gregor. In silhouette I could see bits of flesh being blown off them but both remained standing.

  Pagan shamed me into action. He appeared by my side, his laser carbine shouldered as he fired at Rolleston. I put my shotgun to my shoulder and finally triggered off a burst. Gregor dropped. I froze again. Rolleston moved very quickly through the smoke, wired so much higher than me. He fired the plasma weapon repeatedly but he was aiming past us. Behind me I heard a cry of pain.

  ‘Balor’s down!’ Mudge yelled. I almost gave up then, almost turned the shotgun on myself. Rolleston had put down our two scariest guys just like that.

  Rolleston shifted his aim. I
didn’t hear anything so it must have been the Spectre he fired. Later I’d find out that he’d put three short bursts into Rannu’s face. With a cry Rannu fell back against the wall, most of his face gone.

  And only now did Josephine make her presence known. Mudge showed me the footage after. Buck was standing too close to the door to the docking arm - rookie error, but then he was a pilot. Josephine had come through low. A swirl in the smoke that you had to look hard to see, she was wearing some form of reactive camouflage. She kicked low from the ground. Her foot went through Buck’s shotgun, snapping it. The force of her kick picked him up off his feet and sent him crashing against the wall.

  Still crouched low she kicks Mudge in the knee; his fast, pricey prosthetic leg snaps like a twig. He falls to the ground, triggering off a burst at her as he does, but she’s not there any more. Disturbances in the air show her pouncing onto Buck as he tries to get up. Her hand becomes outlined in blood as it rapidly pulls back and strikes him in the face again and again. Her fingers break through his dermal armour and pierce his brain. Only then does she think to bring her laser carbine to bear.

  Rolleston stalks through the smoke towards us. firing burst after burst from his Spectre. I feel the needles penetrate my long coat and blow chunks out of my armour. Then they’re hitting my dermal armour and I’m bleeding again as little explosive charges in the needles detonate dangerously dose to real flesh.

  He walks up to me as I empty the magazine of the automatic shotgun into him. He should be on the ground. Explosive penetrator flechettes should have chewed him up. As my shotgun runs dry I get a good look at him. I see a burst of laser fire blow a chunk of steaming flesh off him. Then I watch as black liquid in the wound seals it back together. All over his body this is happening as multiple hits heal. It looks like his flesh is crawling. He grins at me. more of a grimace as his face heals.

  I drop the shotgun. He glances behind me at Morag. In my panic I had forgotten about her. I sort through the noise and now I can hear her terrified cries. She can see or hear nothing. Faster than I can move, Rolleston stabs me with his hand. Something pierces the armour of my coat and my dermal armour. I scream with unashamed terror and pain as Rolleston lifts me up. I stab him in the head with the blades on both hands. His features distort as the blades manage to pierce his flesh, though there is resistance from some kind of internal armour. Rolleston screams. Good. And then throws me across the room. Less good.

  I bounce off the wall and hit the ground. Warning medical icons appear on my internal visual display. I try to get back to where Rolleston is leaning over Morag, who is still oblivious to his presence. I scream a warning that she cannot hear. Then something huge looms out of the smoke behind Rolleston.

  Gibby and Mudge fire at where they think the Grey Lady might be, Gibby screaming unintelligibly. There are the rapid bangs of superheated air exploding as Josephine fires her laser carbine from somewhere completely different. Gibby’s Kalashnikov gauss carbine explodes and he staggers back as beam pierces armour, superheats his flesh and blows a chunk of it off. Turning blood to red steam.

  Gregor tears Rolleston off the ground and flings him into the wall. Pagan, somehow still up, just watches. I crawl over to Morag and try to grab her but this just freaks her out more.

  ‘It’s me,’ I say over the tac net. Morag eventually stops trying to fight me. I manage to draw both my pistols; the shoulder-mounted laser pushes its way out. I may as well be unarmed.

  Gregor stalks after Rolleston with his weird off-kilter walk. Rolleston is back on his feet. Gregor grabs the Major by the neck and lifts him up. The hybrid bangs Rolleston against the wall with sufficient force to crack the concrete. He does this again and again and then tries to unscrew the Major’s head. I try to think how I can help. I fail.

  Josephine stalks through the smoke, dripping blood from her hand. A burst of laser fire into Mudge and he lies down, still. String vests are funny but don’t offer much in the way of protection. Gibby draws both his revolvers and starts firing at where he thinks she is, again. She isn’t there, again. Her foot kicks him so hard his armoured skull dents the wall. Then she turns and starts heading towards me.

  Rolleston somehow breaks Gregor’s grip. No hesitation. He strikes Gregor in his abdomen. Gregor staggers back. Rolleston strikes him again and again, tearing flesh and knocking Gregor back every time he does. Gregor shoves the Major back and jumps up in the air. As he lands he claws half of Rolleston’s face off. Rolleston pauses briefly. Somehow he slides behind Gregor and stamps on one of the joins in Gregor’s legs. Gregor goes down on one knee. Rolleston has the skull fucker in his hand. He stabs Gregor in the head, burying it up to the hilt. Gregor screams. The scream sounds more like one of Them.

  Gregor staggers back to his feet and tears the knife out. Rolleston seems to have made him angry. Gregor hits him with an old-fashioned uppercut. Rolleston tumbles by over my head and hits the external wall. Gregor stomps over to his fallen Retributor and picks it up. He turns to the Major, who is climbing to his feet, and starts firing. I watch in horror as Rolleston, this inhuman thing, is chewed up and almost as quickly rebuilt by the black liquid Themtech.

  And Josephine is standing over me. I look up. This is the calmest I have felt. I lie over Morag, covering her.

  ‘Get out of the way,’ Josephine’s soft voice over the tac net. What the fuck? Why wasn’t she killing me?

  I was distracted from this thought by Rolleston apparently deciding things weren’t going his way. The external wall blew out.

  I watched the footage of this afterwards. One part of the wall just blew out, sending rubble and the entire landing platform tumbling down. I watched Cat’s security people in their Praetorians kick full burn on their flight fins to get out of the way.

  You’re not supposed to be able do this to the external wall of a Spoke. Josephine had been busy. She had used her camouflage system to crawl around on the outside of the Spoke and seed it with programmable concrete-eating microbes. They chewed in deep enough to allow her to set sufficient explosives to blow the wall. That was why Cronin had kept us talking.

  Now this kind of damage hadn’t been done to a Spoke since Brazilian I had fallen. Well okay, we’d used microbes on this Spoke after the raid on the lab, but still. Of course, Cat now had no choice but to breach.

  All the fun of explosive decompression. Buck and Balor’s bodies were both sucked out. My wired reflexes gave me the chance to register them tumbling into the night sky. Somehow Gibby and Mudge were still alive. They clung onto whatever they could find. Both of them had internal air supplies; if they didn’t get sucked out they’d be okay. Pagan threw himself at the base of the catwalk as bits of the reception desk, the gallery and what was left of the set flew past him. He wrapped himself around it. He held on for dear life.

  I felt Morag begin to slip from beneath me. My right hand clamped down. I pushed through the plain white carpet of the set and steel prosthetic fingers dug into the concrete, providing me with a precarious grip.

  Rolleston, Josephine and Gregor stayed where they were. Something held them in place as the smoke was sucked out around them. Gregor had stopped firing. He started again when Rolleston’s assault shuttle dropped into view, its rapid firing railguns rotating up to speed, its front ramp down. Rolleston turned and jumped for the ramp.

  Josephine looked down at me sadly and didn’t kill me. She turned and ran with the wind towards the assault shuttle. She jumped out into the night sky, still looking graceful. As she jumped, the rotating railguns started firing. They cut through everything in their path. The rounds penetrated the walls and must have hit Cat’s forces in the plaza outside the node. They cut through the stairs to the catwalk, and the gallery ceased to exist, disintegrating under the withering fire. The shots were too high to get most of us and too low to get Rannu, but Gregor stood there and traded shots with the assault shuttle.

  Gregor stood his ground, fired and fired as the shuttle’s cannon chewed up everything around him
and tore away huge chunks of his flesh - so much there seemed to be a constant stream of flesh coming off him.

  Later I would see more footage from the Praetorians as they all fired on Rolleston’s assault shuttle aided by gunships and the Spoke’s own defences. Over the tac net I heard Cat shout ‘British soldiers on the ground now!’ as the Praetorians flew through the reception area and into the media node. Outside in the plaza emergency barriers came down to stop further decompression.

  Cat’s exo-armoured troops skimmed through the media node and fired at the assault shuttle. Eventually under a hail of withering fire, the assault shuttle peeled off. The Atlantis security forces gave chase as the assault shuttle headed up at dangerous Gs.

  It was Cat herself who picked Morag and me up. She flew us to a gunship; her exo-assisted strength easily taking our weight. Behind me her people were doing the same for Rannu, Pagan, Mudge and Gibby. I wondered how scared the guys who helped Gregor were. Or what they thought. Gregor had stalked to the edge of the node and continued firing after the assault shuttle.

  We couldn’t kill them. Any of them. I looked down at the clouds and a trail of my own blood. Then we were in the cramped confines of one of the gunships; a medic was starting to patch me up. One of the crew was administering a sedative to Morag.

  ‘Her first.’ I told the medic. Unlike us Morag’s body wasn’t outfitted for combat and rapid pressure changes.

  ‘Triage motherfucker, you’ve got a big hole in your stomach, now shut the fuck up,’ the medic told me. Americans.

  ‘It’s all right. We’re safe now,’ I lied to Morag over the tac net. I was still trying to make sense of what had just happened to us. They had walked through us. It must be how normal people, that endangered species, felt when they fought us.