Heart of Granite

by James Barclay

  ‘Pull out pull out pull out,’ whispered Max.

  Down they fell, pilot and drake. Everyone knew why, everyone watched on, seeing themselves in the tragic dive. They watched all the way down until the sand billowed, the drakes roared fury and the command com sounded.

  ‘Skytime is aborted,’ came a gruff voice. ‘Landing protocols to follow.’

  The flight deck was sombre where it should have been buzzing and that suited Max just fine. The Fall was part of life on a behemoth but seeing it played out so publicly had taken the wind from the sails of victory. But Max felt hollow for other reasons too. Once he’d watched the rest of Inferno-X land, he’d given Anna-Beth a desperate hug before walking off the deck arm-in-arm with Kullani, needing to know she was okay.

  At the squad victory dinner in the executive restaurant up in skull deck three, alcohol lightened their mood and talk soon turned to the mission, the upgrade and their stunning victory. Max forced himself to join in, acting as the life and soul of it all and led the toast to the ERC team.

  He soaked up the banter around the table and saw the light in his friends’ eyes when Moeller, Avery, Kirby and even Solomon dropped by to offer their congratulations. Solomon told them they’d struck the first decisive blow that would bring the war to a swift conclusion.

  When she left them, genuine hope had swept round the table. They could be the squad who finished it, who got out of the pouch before the Fall took them. A chance to go home to families they thought they’d never see again and enjoy their pay. And with mind-shielding how could they fail . . .

  What a job she’d done on them all. Max had to fight back the rage and keep the smile onto his face.

  ‘You all been to tech debrief?’ he asked.

  Kullani and Gurney were either side of him and Stepanek was across from him. All three nodded.

  ‘Haven’t you?’ asked Gurney.

  ‘Not got round to it.’

  ‘Oh right, I think Skipper thought she was the last,’ said Gurney and then called along the table to her. ‘Hey, Skipper, is the ERC still open? Max hasn’t quite got in the chair yet.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Max. Get your sorry bollocks up there, will you?’ said Valera. ‘They were winding down when I left. Only the duty tech in there by now, I should think. Off you go.’

  Max pushed back his chair and gave an extravagant bow.

  ‘My friends, duty calls. Think of me while you drink and make merry.’

  The response was loud and predictable. Lucky the Marshal Gen wasn’t within earshot.

  It wasn’t far to the ERC complex. Every behemoth had a significant facility as part of the medical services on skull deck two so Max walked past a couple of the wards and the passageway that led to Landfill ward. It always made him shudder. One day he’d make that walk and once the door closed behind him, he’d never walk back out.

  The ERC development was a series of offices and laboratories split over a section of the deck that surrounded the brain sheath. The sheath itself was transparent, reminding anyone passing by they were inside a living organism. The tech debrief lab was just off the main research laboratory, which itself was a place of tables covered in screens and confusing equipment and whose walls displayed the physiology of man and drake.

  DNA maps and models sat as ornaments, half-empty mugs stood forgotten on desks and cables spread like voracious plant-life, threatening to obliterate floor, walls and ceiling if left unchecked. Despite the cable weights, taping and covers all over the floor, Max had learned to tread carefully whenever he came here.

  ‘Hello?’ he called. ‘Anyone at home?’

  ‘Yup!’ came a voice from his left. Max looked round and a tall young man appeared. He was probably no older than Max. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I’m Max Halloran. Are you the duty tech?’

  His freckled face lit up with a smile. ‘Ah, excellent, Hal-X, very good to meet you. Fantastic result today.’ He came forward and stuck out a long-fingered hand, which Max shook. ‘I’m Carlos Ashanti.’

  ‘Unbelievable day,’ said Max. ‘I need to debrief.’

  ‘Of course, of course, this way.’

  Max had been here a few times but he followed along dutifully, working out how best to get the information he wanted to back up what Anna-Beth had told him. It would be easier if Ashanti was a twat but he appeared irritatingly pleasant. The tech debrief room was dominated by a sensor chair and a single workbench set with multiple screens. Max settled into the chair, slipped his hands into the gloves and let Ashanti pull the sensor-encrusted skull cap down on to his head.

  Now every neural pathway would be mapped, every emotion and muscle movement recorded and every word he said during the debrief would be overlaid on a map of the mission. All he had to do was answer some questions and give a few opinions. Science would do the rest.

  ‘Are you comfortable?’

  ‘Have you ever sat in this chair?’ asked Max.

  A series of green lights and a single red one blinked and steadied on a panel above Max’s head.

  ‘Nope,’ said Ashanti. ‘But we’re good to go, we’re recording. This is Carlos Ashanti, Extra Reptilian Construct research and development team, technician first class—’

  ‘First class, eh? Good work.’

  ‘Thanks, yes, well . .. we all try to do our best.’

  ‘Most of us.’

  ‘Ha! So . . . this is the tech debrief of Pilot Hal-X of InfernoX following upgrade thirty-seven, H-I-O, enhanced sentience activation and adjustment of neural interface. Right, Hal-X—’

  ‘Call me Max.’

  ‘Max. We’ll begin with some simple questions to normalise the reading input. Did I give your correct call sign and squadron?’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘What did you have for breakfast this morning?’

  ‘Scrambled egg, toast, appalling tinned bacon and strong coffee.’

  Ashanti smiled. ‘And do you feel hot, cold or normal temperature at the moment?’

  ‘Entirely normal, thank you, no need to adjust the aircon.’

  ‘That’s not a question about the air—’

  ‘I know what it’s about.’

  ‘Right, great. We’re normalised within standard parameters, so . . . how did you feel approaching your drake this afternoon?’

  ‘Can we pause the recording? I need to piss, sorry.’

  ‘Ah, sure.’ Ashanti tapped the screen behind him and the big red light dimmed away. ‘I’ll get you a sample phial for analysis later.’

  Max took his hands out of the gloves and pushed the skull cap back.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Ashanti.

  ‘How old are you?’

  Ashanti frowned and shrugged. ‘Twenty-three, why?’

  ‘Same as me. Looking forward to a long, happy life beyond the war?’

  ‘I’m . .. well, sure, aren’t we all?’

  ‘I’m a drake pilot, Carlos, I get to look forward to a slow, irreversible decline into the most depressing of deaths unless I manage to Fall on the wing.’

  ‘Sorry. Sorry.’ Ashanti held up his hands in a placatory gesture. ‘Sorry.’

  Max pushed himself half out of the chair and gave Ashanti a playful punch on the shoulder. ‘Don’t beat yourself up; I knew what I was signing up for.’

  ‘Toilet’s just down the corridor, third on the left.’

  Max stood up and made to go before pausing and turning for effect. ‘I watched one of our pilots Fall today. Even so, it’s a great life but it’s short and I’d hate to think anyone would deliberately make it shorter.’

  ‘Heaven forbid,’ said Ashanti– and there was a shine to his brow.

  Max leaned into his discomfort. ‘Why do we need mind- shielding, Carlos?’

  ‘Well, a drake’s mind is inherently stronger than a human’s so it delays decline into the Fall,’ said Ashanti.

  ‘But it’s seriously expensive.’

  ‘Yeah, I mean, ridiculously. You w
ouldn’t believe it.’

  Max joined the laughter then sobered on an instant. ‘And without it?’

  Ashanti’s eyes wouldn’t light on Max suddenly. They searched for a way out but Max had closed in to deny him escape.

  ‘You know,’ he said.

  ‘Remind me.’

  ‘Um — well, depending on the scale of open neural interaction, decline of an unshielded pilot can be very swift.’

  ‘Hmm, fascinating. Define “very swift”.’

  Ashanti held up his hands. He was breathing hard. ‘I know what you’re driving at.’

  ‘And I don’t blame you. You’re just a monkey like me when all’s said and done. But answer my question.’

  Ashanti relaxed a little. ‘Anything from first sortie onwards. Risk of the Fall increases with hours in the pouch anyway but it’s exponential without shielding.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Max turned to go then paused. ‘I need to confirm one thing. Can you retrofit shielding?’

  ‘It’s never been done,’ said Ashanti.

  ‘That’s a bullshit weasel response, Carlos. I thought we were going to be friends . . . take your hand away from that screen. If that red light comes on, I’ll break your arm.’

  Ashanti started and hesitated. ‘No, I mean because it’s not possible.’

  ‘For sure?’

  Ashanti nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay, shooting messengers isn’t my style. But you know what they’ve done to us, right? Think about it and about what you might do to help.’

  ‘Perhaps . .. perhaps it’s time you went for your piss,’ said Ashanti, hands trembling.

  ‘Is that supposed to be a joke?’

  ‘N-no, no, not at all. It’s just that you said you needed one, and we need to finish the debrief.’

  Max stared at him. ‘You can stick your tech debrief up Markov’s arse. I’m giving you nothing. Inferno-X might be screwed but no other squadron needs to be. And you’re in charge of the data, Carlos. Do you get me?’

  Chapter 17

  The voracity with which the alien technologies were gobbled up by the world’s superpowers had an unpleasant, almost bestial quality. It left comparatively few of us asking really important questions like ‘Where did they come from?’ The problem is, the answer to that sort of question doesn’t confer any battlefield advantage.

  Professor Mehmet Govani, Diaries

  ‘Max, you need to calm right down.’

  ‘Why? You’ve been lied to, so has Moeller. So have all of us.’

  She’d pulled him into her pod pretty much as soon as she’d seen his face. Apparently, he looked like he was about to detonate. He felt he was masking his anger rather well. They had agreed to differ.

  ‘Where did Anna-Beth get her information?’ Valera was still in denial.

  ‘Some Tweaker ex of hers, but it isn’t just her, is it? The tech I went to see, Ashanti, he’s confirmed it. It’s impossible, so no one’s ever tried it and they aren’t going to start now.

  Mind you . ..’

  ‘What?’

  Max shook his head. ‘Nothing, it’s nothing. I-X has been sacrificed on the altar of Corsini’s lust for power. Pure and simple.’

  Valera took a breath, walking round in a small circle. ‘These are serious allegations. But we’re in a fix. Never mind who’s implicated, we’ve got this upgrade and I need to work out what, if anything we can do. Markov signed it off, after all.’ ‘And is nowhere to be seen at the moment. You’ve seen the signature that Kirby showed you but he’s a lying bag of shit so it’s probably forged. Why are you defending an upgrade you didn’t want?’

  ‘What I want is information I can use, not hearsay and the word of a tech you threatened.’

  ‘You don’t believe me?’

  ‘Of course I believe you but it isn’t as simple as marching into the ExO and issuing accusations. I have to be sure of my ground and “Max’s-girlfriend’s-ex-fuck-buddy-says” isn’t going to cut it.’

  Max sighed. ‘We don’t have time to screw around, Skipper.

  One after the other, we’ve been up to the Tweakers and told them how brilliant it is. That’s going to green-light pushing the upgrade to every squad. We cannot allow that to happen.

  Bloody hell, Landfill’s going to burst with new inmates, all in the name of money and power. There’s no honour here, no respect.’

  ‘Quiet down!’ snapped Valera. ‘I know you’re angry—’ ‘That doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel.’

  ‘I get it! But we have to have some evidence. So here’s what I’ll do. I’ll ping the other skippers, make them aware of the potential problems with the upgrade. Next I’ll go and speak to Markov, if I can find her, and Rosenbach if I can’t, and confirm what Ashanti told you.

  ‘Then I will approach Moeller and Commander Avery. Am I clear?’

  Max nodded reluctantly. Protocol was bullshit. ‘Kirby needs pinning against a wall until he coughs up the truth.’

  ‘See why I’m skipper and you’re not?’ Valera opened her pod door. ‘Come on, go to bed and neither you, nor Anna-Beth says anythingto anyone until I say so.’

  ‘Why? People have to know.’

  Valera nodded. ‘And so they will. But in the right way.

  That’s my way in case you weren’t clear.’

  ‘Why aren’t you raging?’

  ‘Who says I’m not?’

  Max sat up in bed and looked at the time. It was five thirty a.m. His heart was thumping away with the broken memories of half-dreams from fitful sleep. His anger was keeping his mind whirring and his body tense. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake it off. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  He looked down at Anna-Beth who had the sheet pulled up over her shoulders and was facing the other way. He’d fought it all night but he couldn’t just lie here and hope. No way, no way, was that upgrade happening to her. No way was some dragon going to steal her mind from him. Kirby could stop it happening but if Max was to see him, it had to be now, before it was too late. He got out of bed and started to slip on some clothes as quietly as he could.

  Valera’s plan was all very well but it was too slow; it was pretty obvious they’d upgrade every drake at the earliest opportunity whether they got squadron agreement or not. That probably meant along with their first feed of the day in about an hour and a half. Then it would be job done as far as Kirby and Solomon were concerned and they could go and tell Corsini what good little subjects they’d been. Shortly after that, drake pilots would start dropping out of the sky. Anna-Beth might drop out of the sky.

  Max slipped on his shoes and headed for the door. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  Max started and looked around. Anna-Beth was staring at him.

  ‘I thought you were asleep.’

  ‘Oh yeah. Nothing easier than sleeping with a huffing, cursing, twitching goon next to you, I can tell you.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘I’d never have guessed.’

  ‘I thought it might help if I sat in the squad room, had some coffee or something.’

  ‘It’s still last night and if you’re heading out for a quiet cup of coffee, then I’m a slime-sucking gecko rat.’

  Max managed a smile and sat on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Busted,’ he said. He put a hand on her shoulder and she turned over onto her back. ‘You were pissed off with me last night, weren’t you?’

  ‘No, it’s just a little hard to be sympathetic in the face of a prolonged rant.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Max, attempting sheepishness. ‘I was very angry, wasn’t I?’

  ‘With good reason. You’ve just been handed what amounts to a death sentence— ’

  ‘I’m more concerned they’ll hand it to you next.’ Anna-Beth’s eyes sparkled. ‘And I love you for that but you needed to listen to me and trust your skipper and you weren’t about to do either. I had to close you down.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘So, what particularly stu
pid thing are you thinking of doing?’

  Max shrugged and tried to appear relaxed while he lied to her. ‘I was hoping it would come to me. I just can’t sit here and do nothing and then find out it’s too late to do anything. I won’t let them kill you like they’re killing me.’

  Anna-Beth smiled and stroked his arm. ‘Tough, isn’t it, finding out you care about someone other than yourself?’ ‘It’s a nightmare without end,’ said Max.

  ‘Well, at least you haven’t lost your sense of humour . . . you were joking, right?’

  ‘I’m not sure, actually.’

  ‘You can’t do it all by yourself, love. So go and have that cup of coffee, realise anything you do will cause more trouble and then come back to bed. Like I said, it’s still last night . ..’ Max kissed her then levered himself off the bed. ‘I get you. Should I bring you anything?’

  ‘Just yourself, in about half an hour.’

  ‘Done.’

  Anna-Beth turned over and Max walked to the deserted squad room where he’d only have the whirring of fans for a distraction. For a moment he actually contemplated sitting down in the minimally-lit gloom and thinking things through but the clock was ticking and those things needed to be said. Max headed towards the main door. Even though the aircirculation system was beginning to wind down as they approached the time for a replenishment cycle in the Red Sea, the early air was fresh and cool. The central spine corridor was almost deserted, allowing Max some peace and quiet with just the regular thump of the HoG’s feet and the working of its cavernous lungs for company.

  Sure, there were a few crew about heading for whatever task they had to perform but up here, where the dormitories were thick on the ground and no one had been called for a dawn sortie, it was beautifully . . . empty. So much so that he stopped for a moment, turned a slow circle and took in the corridor, its doors and side passages and the melodic, echoing sounds the HoG made, sounds usually covered up by the cumulative din of ten thousand humans.

  He took a short walk towards the neck, whose walkways became stairs should it steepen its normal gentle angle to give the head more elevation. It had no rooms but plenty of conduit space plus engineering and Tweaker access. Max hurried along it and headed up to skull deck three where the execs all had their sizeable suites of rooms.