Heart of Granite

by James Barclay

  ‘Everything you say is a learning experience, sir,’ said Max.

  ‘I don’t even want to feel your breath on my collar.’

  ‘It would be an honour to hold my breath for the duration of our glorious leader’s inspirational speech, sir.’

  ‘And how are you, Kullani?’ asked Moeller, his gaze fixing her abruptly.

  ‘Fine, sir,’ said Kullani brightly, perhaps too brightly.

  ‘Really? Halloran told me you had some nasty bruises from yesterday’s skirmish. Your Squadron Leader said you were extremely tired. A remarkable recovery, then.’

  ‘A cold compress and a good night’s sleep work wonders, sir,’ said Kullani, her voice even and confident. ‘Bruises come with the job.’

  ‘Mind how you go. Remember to get checked out if you feel there’s anything amiss.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  Anything else Moeller might have said was cut off as the main lights began to dim and Commander Avery walked on stage. The audience stood to attention.

  ‘At ease. The President has recorded a video address. Please refrain from spontaneous applause until it is complete.’ Laughter rang around the theatre. ‘For context, I should remind you all that the Presidential elections are in eighteen months’ time. When the address is over, the following will remain for mission briefings. Inferno-X, Lavaflow-A, Hammerclaws-G and Second battalion, first regiment . .. the Annihilators.’

  Avery made a hand signal and walked quickly from the stage. The remaining lights dimmed and the huge screen displayed the flag of United Europa, a graphical representation of all the territories within its compass set on a background of three vertical blue, black and yellow stripes. Easily the dullest flag of all the warring factions.

  The flag faded to a shot of Corsini behind his desk, all oily smile and bespoke suit. Exactly how he thought a statesman should look. The ornate wood adorning the walls; the paintings of ancient battlefield victories; the leather inlaid mahogany desk; the banks of information screens set on the left and right of the desk; and his hands resting on the desktop, fingers linked.

  ‘My friends! I wish I possessed your courage. For almost seven years, you have kept our borders secure and our children safe, and we are in awe of your valour.’

  Max prayed this was going to be a short version of one of Corsini’s trademark inspirational speeches rather than a long address, but it hadn’t started in promising fashion.

  ‘Today I want to send you one clear message: I’ve got your backs,’ said Corsini. ‘There are minorities, vocal minorities, who would have you pulled from the battlefield; returned home without the victories you fight for every single day. Without recognition of the sacrifices you make, and those who lay down their lives each and every day. So I am fighting, every day, to support you. To ensure your return will be with victory in your hearts, to give meaning to sacrifice.’

  There was some applause then, desultory and brief.

  ‘But be aware! I stand against the appeasers, hiding their cowardice behind sympathy for your families – ignoring your choice to fight for our cause. They are blind to the dangers of withdrawing from the battlefield. If I am not here to stand with you following the election, I fear what the future holds. Not for me, for you.’

  This speech wasn’t going quite the way Max had expected and, uniquely, he found himself listening; and the quiet in the theatre meant everyone else was too. Despite Corsini’s unusual honesty, however, there remained an inevitability to his direction.

  ‘These appeasers need to be stopped and you, the true backbone of United Europa, can deliver that blow.’

  Here it comes, Max thought.

  ‘It is in your hands to win this war and return as heroes. I know you are tired. I also know you are on the brink of a breakthrough in Mid-Africa. Meanwhile our armies in the Balkans gain momentum and we have successfully halted enemy advances in South America.

  ‘In the terms of historic wars fought across our lands, it is time for the final push. One extra effort from each of you serving in United Europa’s extraordinary armed forces in Mid- Africa. We are on the brink. With one mighty heave, we will break them.

  ‘You can do this. You will do this. For your country, for your comrades and for those you love. Honour the memory of those who cannot return. United Europa needs you now. Thank you.’

  ‘Corker,’ said Max. ‘There’s no way we can fail now.’

  There was a murmur of conversation, growing in volume, as people begin to file out.

  Moeller stood and turned a bleak look on Max. ‘Keep it to yourself, Halloran. Still, you’ll soon have your first chance to prove your point. You’re off on an Obs and Recon Circuit this afternoon.’

  ‘An ORC? Why, with respect, are you sending Inferno-X?’ asked Valera.

  Moeller smiled. ‘It’s an ORC with attitude.’

  ‘Sort of an Uruk-Hai then, you mean?’ said Max.

  ‘Holy Mother, you’ve read a book?’ said Moeller. ‘I’m almost impressed, Halloran.’

  ‘Well, I saw a vid . ..’

  ‘Oh? The ancient Jackson classic or the truly awful Katasami remake?’

  ‘Who’s Jackson, sir?’

  ‘Never mind. Hope kindled by you is only ever a brief spark in a deluge, isn’t it?’ Moeller sighed and moved towards the stage.

  The theatre was cleared except for those required to stay and hear the briefing and they bunched up in the front ten rows. Solomon and Avery had left with Kirby, leaving Flight Commander Moeller the last of the executive team in the room.

  ‘Right, I’ll make this brief,’ said Moeller. ‘We’ve been conducting longrange recon, and we’ve identified a Mid-Af behemoth in the central Red Sea zone, alone and seriously overdue a replenishment cycle. Clearly, we need more intel so we have increased our pace and are now running ahead of the Steelback.

  ‘Naturally, that means we have increased our risk as there are three Mid-Af behemoths in the zone. So, Annihilators, you are on point for the next four-day cycle and will pay close attention to southern vectors. Lavaflow and Hammerclaws, you are on combat air patrol. Full details to follow in the briefing ping. Inferno, you’ll be flying obs and recon.’

  Pilots from the other squads jeered and Inferno-X gave them the mandatory finger.

  ‘Enough,’ said Moeller. ‘I need observation on speed, leg sync, how quickly they launch their drakes, what they have on the ground. Potential vulnerabilities; get me shots of dry armour if you can – and on no account engage. Fly smart, C-One in, C-Two on point and C-Three on high obs. If your intel confirms it’s vulnerable, you’ll be heading back in for a strike in a couple of days.

  ‘Any questions, Val-X?’

  ‘Has the lizard got a name, sir?’

  Moeller smiled. ‘Sadly it isn’t the Virunga, so don’t get too excited.It’s an older one, the Maputo. This is the break Corsini was talking about, so bring me back something, eh?’

  ‘Are we testing enemy drake fitness on the chase?’ asked Valera.

  ‘Negative. Don’t risk yourselves. We assume the drakes will be on peak or close to. But the Maputo might be sluggish, making tailup a trial. That’s the sort of intel I need. If we’re a go for assault, it’ll be our last before the Granite takes her own big swim so let’s go out on a high, okay?’

  ‘Roger that.’

  ‘You’re all away at fourteen hundred. Fly well and don’t Fall.’ Moeller stared squarely at Kullani who smiled back. ‘And before you fly, report to the ERC for brain pattern scans. Dismissed.’

  It was another day of blazing sun and scorching heat along the northern borders of the Nubische Desert. The battle for the Vermelho Sea coast was into its second year and the prize for United Europa, should they prevail, was dominance of the entire North-Af and Cen-Af region on a line that could be drawn almost exactly along latitude five degrees north. A distance of almost four thousand kilometres coast to coast. This was Corsini’s goal and it was no coincidence that Solomon had arrived just before yet another fi
nal push.

  Max had no idea if it would win them the war, but even he could see the huge geographical superiority the territory would give them. And the land they’d captured, once reformed, irrigated and planted . . . it would make United Europa the most powerful bloc in the world. Trouble was the Mafs and the Sambas wanted it for exactly the same reason. The Mafs were regrouping having lost the fight on the shores of the Mediterranean and still controlled the south central region; and the Sambas, a long way from their South American homeland, waited to frustrate any army that looked like it might be getting the upper hand. Right now, that was UE, of course.

  All any side needed was someone else to make an error. And it looked like the Mafs had made one: leaving a behemoth too far from water when it had to replenish. Slow. Weak. Vulnerable.

  ‘Val-X, InfernoX, orders.’

  The squadron was flying high in the glorious blue sky on a south-south-easterly heading. Vision was excellent, the thermals were riding easy and the prevailing wind blew across them, east to west. Beneath them, ground forces advanced across uncontested land with Geckos, Iguanas and Basilisk outriders making up the bulk of the movement.

  Somewhere down there, the Annihilators would be pressing out even further, trying to established line-of-sight with the potential battle-ground. And just beyond it, was the Maputo.

  It was best not to look too hard at the ground itself. Years of war, the advance and retreat of five different regional blocs trying to take control, had left much of it ruined beyond recognition. Max wasn’t one to worry about what had been destroyed by war, but every now and again the scale of the devastation, the destruction of land in order to own land got to him. And holy shit alone knew how many species had been eradicated in the process.

  It was a fucked up world and he was doing his bit. Whether he was making it more or less fucked up, though, he’d leave to the armchair philosophers.

  ‘Chevron orders,’ said Valera. ‘Step-X and C-Three: High altitude observation. Hal-X, and C-Two: you have my back. COne, you’re coming with me to stir the nest. Under no circumstances wander into the Maputo’s firing arcs. Stick to your patterns, keep the chatter to a minimum and break on my order. No one gets a toasting, everyone comes home.’

  ‘Roger that, skipper,’ said Lankowski of C-One, echoing the squad.

  ‘Inferno-X, Flight Com. Contact imminent. We have a small group of enemy drakes at your ten o’clock, ten blips in all. Not a threat but be aware. Flight Com out.’

  ‘Inferno-X, ValX. Form chevrons, mission is green.’

  Max opened his chevron com. ‘C-Two, listen up. We’ll be taking in the sights of the stunning Nubian Desert from a height of four hundred today, with views of the beautiful Maputo with its peeling scale, comedy multiple leg limp and, we hope, arthritic tail lift to your right during the flight. We will also observe the piloting skills of C-One, and while we are unable to toast any fucker who comes too close, we can shout and make funny arm gestures to scare them off.

  ‘I trust you’ll all have a lovely afternoon.’

  There was silence for a moment.

  ‘You really are a prat, Max,’ said Monteith.

  Chapter 11

  It was apparent early on that the aliens used organic matter in all their machines, and all their vehicles. It took the world’s best a decade to work out how, and the revolution in battle hardware came hard on the heels of that extraordinary discovery. Such strength of structure combined with such a lack of relative mass was changing the game.

  Professor Helena Markov, Director, Extra Reptilian Construct Organisation.

  Behemoths could be spotted by the dust they threw up, which drifted on the prevailing winds, causing clouds to form at low level, slowly rising on thermals to be dispersed by stronger winds.

  Far to the east, a dull smudge indicated the Virunga and a similar distance to the west, the third Maf behemoth trudged along, playing its part in the endless game of behemoth chess. And there, clearer as they closed in, was the Maputo, moving steadily northwards and not looking to be in any particular distress.

  ‘Hey Risa, you passed the brain pattern scan then,’ said Max.

  ‘Never doubted it. I’d have paid to see Moeller’s face when he got the results though.’

  ‘How’re you holding up?’

  ‘Honestly? Better than ever,’ said Kullani. ‘Weird but it’s almost like nothing happened yesterday.’

  ‘That’s got to be good, right?’ said Max, Anna-Beth’s warning sounding in his head.

  ‘I’ll let you know.’

  Max focused on the Maputo. There was some degradation on the spine and flank armour, visible as pale smears even from CTwo’s distance, but nothing that might signify cracking. He opened the chevron com.

  ‘Can anybody see a limp?’

  ‘She looks pretty smooth from up here,’ said Losano.

  ‘Though she’s slowing.’

  ‘Copy that, Los-X. Eyes open, CTwo. Let’s see if there’s any crackle in her tail raise. Keep your distance. Skipper, we are on point.’

  ‘Copy. Hal-X,’ said Valera. ‘C-One going for the closeup.’ Below them, the Maputo’s spine ordinance bristled. Forty millimetre auto-cannon sat in their retractable housings on each vertebra. Anti-aircraft launchers swivelled and tracked. The Maputo came to a halt, dust surging from her thirty pairs of legs. Immediately the tail began to rise and the flight deck would be deploying from her belly. Max could see no evidence of any struggle as the mighty muscles engaged and the tail tip began to curl up from the ground.

  ‘Anything anyone wants to say?’ he asked.

  ‘What time are we meeting in Gargan’s?’ asked Calder. ‘Usual time and it’s your round, Hal-X,’ said Borini. ‘Musing over alcohol would be a better use of our time,’ said Schmidt.

  ‘Keep it tight, folks,’ said Max. ‘Here we go, she has got problems. Circle on station.’

  Max watched the Maputo make a slight lean forward. Her head dipped and the front eight pairs of legs bent to varying degrees at the knee. She was struggling to lift her tail, no doubt about it.

  Max thumbed his open com. ‘Flight Com, Val-X, Step-X.

  C-Two has intel. Distinct muscle and spinal degradation indicated by extreme effort required to raise the tail.’ ‘Confirmed,’ said Valera ‘We’re seeing significant muscle vibration in all legs along the right flank. Flank armour appears dry. Evidence of minor cracking.’

  ‘Flight Com copies. Inferno-X prepare to disengage. Step-X, I am tracking the ten blips inbound on your altitude. Confirm spots on a heading of one-six-five.’

  ‘Step-X copies.’ There was a pause while Stepanek and C-Three searched the sky. ‘Spots confirmed. Observation suggests extreme pace. Flight Com, please confirm M-and-M.’ ‘Flight Com, Step-X, blips indicate make and model are dragon-class hunterkillers. They’re drakes, Step-X.’ ‘Copy, Flight Com,’ said Stepanek. ‘Turbo-charged too. JesX, RobX, eyes on the incoming.’

  ‘Recommend you complete obs and head home, Val-X.’ ‘I hear you, Flight Com. Complying.’

  ‘Flight Com out.’

  ‘Inferno-X, ValX. Let’s form up. C-Two, C-Three merge at one thousand. C-One will complete inspection. Single circuit of target then ascend to one thousand. Keep an eye on those drakes. ValX out.’

  ‘Distinct grind in the aft launchers,’ said Abraham. ‘They’re taking on too much sand from fifteenth vertebra backwards.’ ‘Copy, Abe-X,’ said Valera. ‘No closer. Jak-X, you too, move out fifty.’

  ‘I hear you, Skipper,’ said Jaks. ‘Forty cals tracking, can’t see any degradation from here.’

  ‘Time to go, Martha,’ whispered Max. He twitched his right arm up and back and Martha swept into an easy climb, her rotation allowing her to take in the approaching enemy, presumably dispatched by the Virunga to chase Inferno-X away. Max noted a very slight tremor through Martha’s flanks.

  ‘What’s up?’

  With C-Two climbing in his wake, he continued his rotation. Using Martha’s eyes, he co
uld see Stepanek and C-Three heading towards them.

  ‘Holy Mother but those boys are coming in quick,’ said Roberts, Stepanek’s second in the chevron. ‘Descending and tracking, still incoming. Are you getting this, StepX?’ ‘Copy, Rob-X,’ said Stepanek, his voice measured and calm as always. ‘I reckon we’re about to be buzzed. Heads-up, C-Three, let’s not get complacent.’

  ‘Good call, boss,’ said Fellows. ‘I’ll try not to poke the nest.’

  ‘You too, C-Two,’ said Max. ‘Dudes don’t look friendly.’ ‘Well we are assessing one of their behemoths for an assault,’ said Schmidt.

  ‘Hardly an excuse,’ said Borini.

  ‘Bloody Mafs, just can’t take a joke, can they?’ said Losano. The two chevrons merged at a thousand and formed a three-sixty degree defensive flight pattern. Drake necks craned, pilot’s eyes squinted, all of them watching the incoming enemy. Their relative numbers didn’t suggest an attack but Max could sense the disquiet among the squad and the com silence confirmed it. He knew how confident Inferno-X was, but he also knew Martha was uneasy and no doubt the other drakes were too.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked her. She couldn’t reply but he felt her desire to accelerate. ‘I feel you, princess. We’ll be fine.’ The enemy were at about three clicks and closing hard when Martha barked a warning.

  ‘Inferno-X, HalX, there’s something astray here. Suggest C-Two and C-Three adopt assault formations and increase speed. Val-X, are you done?’

  ‘Nearly, we just need—’

  ‘They’re breaking! Five of them coming down to the deck,’

  JesX’s voice, was loud and urgent.

  ‘Inferno-X, assault formation,’ ordered Valera. ‘We’re coming to you. C-One, break off and climb hard. Five incoming. Flight Com, we are under attack.’

  ‘Flight Com copies. I see no more bogies, they are ten in all.

  Break and retreat. We do not need a fight today.’

  But we’ve already got one, thought Max, still surprised the enemy would risk it with fewer numbers. Inferno-X drakes broke observation formation. Wings and bodies crowded close as the chevrons formed up in wing pairs. Max and Kullani rose through the middle of the throng, swinging about hard to face the incoming Maf drakes. They were quick, and Martha’s vision swept ahead of his, sensing threat.