Heart of Granite

by James Barclay

  Gargan’s was the place for loud music , cheap drink and the maximum amount of attention. Maybe even for taking a dig at the sand-eating infantry still shaking the desert out of their clothes. Max didn’t want any of it tonight and, had it not been for toast tradition, he would have taken the squad to Rio’s or, if he could blag it, the Bridge Bar, instead. Although given his run-ins with Moeller and Solomon, he might not have had a warm welcome.

  So Gargan’s it was, with its buzz, stale smell, sticky floor and the pheromone-fuelled dance of people seeking someone for fun, for a little comfort, even for love. Max felt disconnected when he and Kullani walked in. The music was a horrible distraction rather than a prelude to a long and glorious night flirting, laughing and celebrating their victory with his squad.

  Max steered a subdued Kullani to the tables reserved for Inferno-X after their victory. Everyone was there; even Valera had arrived before him. The moment they came into view, the squad stood. Trays were passed around and each took a shot of spirit, either vodka or a single malt. His and Kullani’s held shots of water.

  With Max and Kullani among them, Inferno-X moved onto the floor and formed a shoulder-to-shoulder circle around Valera. The music was cut and the hoot of voices fell to a respectful quiet as everyone in Gargan’s paused, some more grudgingly than others, to honour their comrades.

  Valera raised her shot glass above her head and Inferno-X held theirs out to her. She turned slowly as she spoke.

  ‘We are one. Today we flew, we fought, and we were victorious. We are Inferno-X! We are Heart of Granite!’

  To a roar that shook the room, the squad downed their shots. Music kicked in again, voices rose to match it and Valera called Chevron Two into a huddle.

  ‘You know one of your own needs your protection tonight. Watch out for each other. Enjoy your night and trust your squad. Get drunk, get laid . . . get a few hours’ sleep.’

  Valera broke up the huddle and leaned into Max before she left. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay out of trouble, keep Risa reasonably sober and if Moeller or Avery walk in, it’s time to leave gracefully. Can you do all that?’

  ‘Aye aye, Skipper.’

  Valera patted his cheek and walked away.

  Max watched her head towards the main corridor, people moving out of her way. He smiled and turned back to the squad, seeing the empty state of the glasses and bottles across their tables.

  ‘But first, someone needs to go to the bar,’ he muttered.

  Alexandra Solomon smiled when the vidcom began to bleep for her attention. Few knew her direct code and she had been looking forward to this call. She finished towelling herself dry and got dressed, careful not to rush. The beeping had started to sound more insistent and it entertained her to keep her caller waiting.

  It timed out after a while, and started again almost immediately. It had to be him and he’d know she was in her quarters. The question was, had he read the research she’d arranged for him to see or was this a social call? Solomon pulled her jacket over her shirt, adjusted her appearance in a mirror, and, checking that she was recording all that was to come, she enabled the link.

  ‘Did you miss me?’ she asked.

  ‘Did you have any particular reason to keep me waiting?’ President Corsini’s voice was just slightly out of sync with his lips, making him look even more stupid than normal, which was quite a feat.

  ‘You’re fortunate I was just getting out of the shower and not just getting in,’ said Solomon, ‘or you’d have been waiting a sight longer, listening to my singing– and I only know songs about what a prick you are.’

  ‘Dear me, Alex, you are frosty today. The water a bit cold, was it?’ Corsini was middle-aged, and his olive skin was thick enough to take all her barbs. Still, it was fun hurling them.

  ‘It’s always cold. Something you’d know if you’d the guts to visit a behemoth. What do you want? I’m busy.’

  Corsini’s expression was stone but she was starting to get to him. ‘I can’t imagine anyone having more pressing concerns than speaking to their commanding officer.’

  ‘You don’t have to imagine it, you’re looking at me. What do you want? Oh, wait . . . what day is it? You must have just seen the latest opinion polls.’

  ‘You know my ratings are a burning behemoth carcass.’

  Solomon’s heart sang. ‘So you must be calling to hear how I can win the war for you by Election Day . .. wow, that’s going to be expensive.’

  ‘And despite your recent, comprehensive report on targeted spending to achieve victory in MidAf, I can’t increase your budget. It’s time you earned your pay.’

  Solomon stiffened fractionally. ‘Is there a Maf behemoth outside your window?’

  Corsini sighed. ‘No—’

  ‘That’s because I’m already earning it.’

  ‘That’s a tired line, Alex. Try again.’

  Solomon turned her back on the screen and walked to her dresser where her brushes and beads were laid out.

  ‘Rainbow colours or something a little more serious and formal, do you think?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If I’m to tell your flag carrier they have eighteen months to win this war of attrition without additional resources, I think I should adopt an appropriate look, don’t you?’

  ‘You have to be bolder,’ he said. ‘You used to be a risk- taker. What happened?’

  Solomon barked a derisory laugh and turned back to the screen.

  ‘That’s all your years of battlefield experience speaking, is it? Or is it the advice of that fuckwit octogenarian in whom you apparently place so much faith.’

  ‘General Baldwin has more tactical knowledge than you’ll ever forget.’

  ‘He’s so old he still remembers petrol-driven cars. Last time he fought they were advancing behind fixed bayonets.’

  ‘The General is merely suggesting a concentration of forces to break the MidAfrican stalemate.’

  ‘I see. And he expects us to do this by harnessing the power of nature and battling our enemies with insects and elephants or something, does he?’

  ‘Your sarcasm does you no credit. You need to direct forces from the Balkan front. Even a fuckwit octogenarian can see that.’

  Solomon smiled at him, plainly a reaction he wasn’t expecting.

  ‘A brilliant idea,’ she said. ‘Assuming you want to invite the Redheads into central Europe, force an alliance against us between the Sambas and Mid-Africa and push the Indian Subs into conflict to protect their border. But at least we’ll have extra behemoths wholly unsuited to desert combat.’

  ‘We have to end this war now.’

  ‘Then by all means, make that your order. You won’t have to worry about re-election, just what to wear for the show trial and firing squad. Tactics, my toned arse. Baldwin doesn’t have a clue and neither do you.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ said Corsini.

  ‘Once was a thousand times too many,’ snapped Solomon.

  Just for a moment, Corsini’s jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘If not Baldwin, then listen to Markov. At least she’s still working for the common good. An interesting piece of research popped into my inbox. You’re aware of it, I presume.’

  Solomon shrugged, affecting disdain, though she felt a little excitement blossom; he had seen it.

  ‘It’s dangerous and untested,’ she said. ‘The data hasn’t been properly analysed; I question the to-Fall time reduction versus the combat benefit assessment; and the cost implication matrix is, to say the least, creative. It is exciting, but given the early stage of the research we cannot expect to field-test for at least a year. We need a realistic solution, not this sort of promissory fancy.’

  ‘This is realistic.’

  Solomon shook her head, working out how best to lead him to the orders she wanted. ‘It’s not on the agenda. Not before the next election.’

  Corsini leaned back in his chair. ‘The options are few, Alex: the current war of attrition, this calculated
risk, or the diplomacy table.’

  ‘There will be no negotiated settlement. That’s a betrayal of every life that’s already been lost.’

  Corsini slowclapped her. ‘Said with such passion I almost believe you. But I know how much uncaptured land you’ve been promised when we win. How many billions would it cost you if the war ended with the borders as they are right now?’

  ‘About half as many as it would cost you,’ Solomon snapped.

  Corsini rapped the research report with his knuckles. ‘Then we agree: be bold. Fast track this research. You’re in the field now; get testing.’

  Solomon rubbed her hands over her face. ‘All right. Let me make this simple. That research reduces the average lifespan of a drake pilot from three years to ten months before the Fall takes them. The worst-case scenario leaves us with only fifteen per cent of test subjects still operational after nine months. Even you will realise I can’t test this on any more than one squadron, if you order me to test at all.’

  ‘Inferno-X can handle it.’

  Solomon shrugged. ‘If anyone can, they can. But it’s a huge gamble. You’re pinning all your hopes on one squad from one behemoth turning the tide in less than a year. If it fails, we’ve got nothing.You saw there’s no mind-shielding? You’ll be sacrificing our very best for this experiment.’

  ‘Finances only stretch so far; mind-shielding is expensive.’

  ‘I just want to be clear that you’re comfortable with testing on our finest squadron.’

  ‘We’re all aware of their individual talents. They have the best chance of making it work for the longest time. I don’t see any other choice.’

  ‘You understand we won’t even have enough space in Landfill to handle the burnouts,’ said Solomon.

  ‘Burn-outs . .. you’re as sentimental about your troops as ever.’

  ‘That’s what they’ll be! This upgrade will create them by the sackload, and if you can’t increase our budget then I can’t replace them in a hurry. You know how expensive training drake pilots is. And how long it takes.’

  Corsini smiled; it was a most unsettling expression. ‘So you missed the most interesting part of the research then.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The Specific Sentience Release programme means we can recruit pilots with lower aptitude, and they’ll require a shorter, less intensive training period. This gives us more pilots for less money. It would also release all those currently in the programme for immediate active duty. Good, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘That’s not a training programme, it’s a licence to slaughter our own.’

  ‘But it could win us the war. If it does, the sacrifice is worth it.’

  ‘You’ll never persuade Markov to sign it off for live combat test.’

  Corsini flapped his hands. ‘I already have her signature. It’ll be on the file when you receive it.’

  ‘So let’s be clear. You’re ordering me to combat-test this upgrade on Inferno-X despite the objections I have raised. Any adverse consequences are on you.’

  ‘Fine. Just win the fucking war with it. And be prepared for a wider rollout if first reports are promising.’

  Solomon fought to contain the smug feeling. ‘Even so, if I’m to sell this in, it’ll cost you, personally. I want the Virunga Mountains and the Bwindi rainforest.’

  ‘Those are mine.’

  ‘Not any more. Not if you want this test to happen.’

  ‘You are a filthy, grasping bitch.’

  ‘That is quite the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.’

  Solomon cut the vid-link and ended the recording of Corsini implicating himself in a deception. Now Solomon had exactly what she wanted and she didn’t even have to fear the consequences. Sometimes it was almost too easy.

  Chapter 7

  I thought the war started because the oil ran out, only my dad said you had to go back further than that to when we were all mostly at peace and everyone shared their technology.

  Max Halloran, Aged 14— Supported essay 5: Why are we at war?

  ‘I need to get out of here,’ said Kullani. ‘There’s too much noise. It’s hurting my head.’

  Max shuffled a little closer in the corner booth where they had retreated. Initially they’d been surrounded by the squad, but the natural ebb and flow of the human tide in Gargan’s had dispersed them. Every now and again, Fellows, Roberts or Colette dropped by to leave more drinks but now he looked at their table, Max could see that his were largely untouched, but all of Kullani’s were drained dry. Damn.

  ‘Hang on a little longer. Skipper’ll be back soon.’

  Kullani shook her head. ‘Max, I’m cold and I need to be alone and in peace so I can reach out to my drake in private. You’re my wing. Get me to the squad rack.’

  Max raised an eyebrow and stared at her for a moment. ‘All right, Kul-X. We can go . .. take it easy.’

  She slapped away the hand he’d offered. ‘Stop telling me what to do! You don’t know. None of you get it; and it’ll be too late when you do.’

  ‘I hear you, Kullani. We’ve probably had enough to drink. So the squad rack – let’s go, okay?’

  ‘Oh now you get it. Now I’m a little pissed and loud. Poor mad little me, eh? Best hurry me off to bed before I say something stupid, right?’

  Max refrained from actually shushing her but did hold up his hands in surrender, hoping she’d calm down. He could sense that they were starting to draw attention.

  ‘Whatever you want. I thought—’

  ‘No, you didn’t think. That’s your problem. It’s all about you, isn’t it? Never mind what’s happening to me!’

  Max found himself lost for words. Instead, he hugged her, feeling the rattling pace of her heart and her quick, shallow breathing. While Kullani didn’t hug him back, at least she didn’t bite his head off. She began to relax.

  ‘We’re here to make everything seem normal, even though it isn’t. Please try and hang on. Skipper’ll be back soon and then I can get something to help you. Grim’ll be here by then and you can leave together as usual. I know you’re cold and scared but we’ll fix this. Okay?’

  Kullani heaved in a breath and nodded against his chest, head bowed to hide her tears, although her shoulders were visibly shaking.

  ‘Damn,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t want it to be over.’

  ‘It’s not,’ said Max. ‘Not by a long way.’

  ‘Max?’ He looked up to see Anna-Beth and reached out a hand, which she took and held briefly. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘Have you seen Grim? She should be here.’

  Anna-Beth jerked her thumb over her shoulder. ‘I was prepping my drake for tomorrow when the whole duty flight crew got called for a flight deck emergency exercise at shift end. They’ll be done soon. What is it?’

  Max just shook his head, having to fight back sudden tears. ‘Can you get her some water?’

  Anna-Beth’s eyes betrayed her understanding. ‘Tell you what, you get the water and I’ll do the hugging. Reckon it’s my turn.’

  Max stroked Kullani’s hair. ‘I’ve got someone far better than me to take over, okay?’ He stood up and brushed lips with Anna-Beth. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Bring me back a beer, eh?’

  ‘You got it.’

  Max hadn’t moved two paces before he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and a voice in his ear.

  ‘Oh, Halloran—’ his name sounded ugly, said with such a sneer ‘—learned the truth, has she?’

  ‘Fuck off, Meyer. She’s just had some bad news from home.’

  ‘That sort of grief only comes from seeing how tiny your prick really is.’

  ‘You’re hilarious. Now back off, this doesn’t concern you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, there’s a support group we can send Kullani to. Dick Dissatisfaction Anonymous, I think it’s called.’

  Max turned and faced Meyer, nose-to-nose. The powerful marine captain was a few centimetres taller than him, his short hair bleached by the su
n and his young face creased and tanned dark.

  ‘Sand in your ears again? I said, back off.’

  ‘Whoa!’ said Meyer, his smile broad and cruel. ‘Didn’t realise you were so sensitive about your . . . shortcoming. Fuckin’ drake pilots never can take a joke.’

  Max shoved Meyer hard and crowded him back further.

  ‘Fucking sand-heads never know when to quit. Get out of my face.’

  Meyer squared up, fists ready; and as fast as a hundred drinkers scattered away from them, another hundred filled the void.

  ‘What did you call me?’

  ‘You’re the only one that didn’t hear me. Need me to repeat it to get it through your thick, grunt skull?’

  ‘Fuck you. Least my brains won’t leak out through my ears—’

  Max roared and swung a fist right for Meyer’s fat nose. Meyer swayed away from it and thumped Max in the stomach. Max absorbed most of it but blew hard as he charged in, meaning to get inside the arc of Meyer’s fists. He grabbed Meyer about the midriff and drove him back, scattering onlookers. Meyer was whacking him on the back. Max hooked a leg behind Meyer’s and shoved, tripping him. They went down in a heap. Max raised a fist only to have his forearm grabbed hard.

  ‘Let me—’

  ‘Stow it, Halloran,’ snapped Valera. ‘Get up the pair of you.’ Marines and pilots were crowding in now, pulling their man away from the other. ‘Get lost, Meyer.’

  Valera’s words carried through the noise of Gargan’s with all the weight of her seniority and reputation. Max still burned with anger and struggled against the combined weight of Abraham and Kane to no effect. He swore as Meyer stepped away and the next thing he saw was Valera’s furious expression.

  ‘Time to turn in,’ she said.

  ‘I need to—’ Valera’s eyebrows rose slightly.

  ‘Luckily, Inferno-X has your back,’ said Kane, letting him go.

  Max glanced back and saw Grim and Anna-Beth were sitting either side of Kullani who looked calmer now. He nodded.

  ‘Yeah, yeah . .. time to go.’

  Max stalked out of Gargan’s, noticing Kirby, who was the HoG’s ExO, and Moeller staring at him as he left. The moment they were out of sight of the bar, Max felt a sharp clip around the back of his head.