Max’s pass granted him access to all three skull decks and he exchanged pleasantries with the couple of sets of security personnel he passed on the way. If anyone asked, he was heading for the exec gymnasiums . .. but he wasn’t stopped.
After all, he was Inferno-X.
To be fair to the Exec, although their rooms were larger, there were no particular additional touches of luxury . . . same old bone and metal floor with its rubberised coating, same old wall panels and even a tiny bit of seepage– though nothing like the grunts had to endure.
Max arrived at Kirby’s door, raised his fist to knock and then paused, the first motes of doubt creeping into his head.
Valera might be right about following procedure but they had to let Kirby know they were on to him, didn’t they? He had to know that upgrading more widely couldn’t be sanctioned. Max rapped on the metal door, the sound ringing dully in the corridor and presumably within. He stepped back and waited.
He was wondering how long to wait until he knocked again when the lock clunked back and the door opened. Kirby was wearing sweats but didn’t look like he’d just been dragged out of bed.
‘What the hell do you want?’ he asked.
‘I need to talk to you, sir.’
‘The desire’s been burning you all night by the looks.’ Kirby raised his eyebrows and shook his head before pushing the door wide and wandering off inside. Max followed and closed the door. He was in a small, sparsely decorated living area with a desk, a round table and four chairs, a twoseater sofa and a high-backed armchair. There was a single door leading off to the bedroom and wash room and faint music was coming from within.
Kirby went to his desk, which had a drinks unit next to it.
He put a mug under the spout and thumbed a selection. ‘Want a coffee or something?’
‘No thanks, sir,’ said Max, fighting to stay calm despite the nonchalance of the lying shit in front of him. ‘You don’t seem surprised to see me.’
‘I’m not really, though I hadn’t expected you to come knocking till a little later. Ashanti mentioned your refusal to test in his report and I guessed you’d want to see me. I expect you’re angry.’
Max felt completely wrong-footed. Kirby smiled, picked up his mug and gestured to the sofa.
‘Go on, sit down. I suspect you’ve rarely seen this time of day.’
‘Only when I’m angry, apparently.’
Kirby sat in the high-back chair and waved Max down. He sat on the sofa, his visions of how this would go disintegrating. ‘You’ll find nothing is quite as clear-cut as it seems.’ ‘It seems pretty clear-cut to me,’ said Max.
‘To you, yes. That’s why you’re in here while Orin, who I’m sure you’ve told all about this, is tucked up in bed. You know why?’
‘Yeah: because she wants to collect hard evidence that you’re lying,’ said Max.
‘You know, Halloran, you’ve walked the wrong side of the line pretty much ever since you joined the Granite. And you screwed up after our chat in the brig. But I’m still going to offer you one last free piece of advice.’
‘What is it, “don’t trust your ExO”?’
‘Don’t fuck with your ExO.’
Max took a breath. ‘It’s too late for me, I get that— ’ ‘Actually, we think I-X will be just fine.’
‘Really? Reckon my source who says we’re all utterly screwed is more reliable, don’t you?’
‘That data I’ve seen supports my view.’
Max gathered himself. ‘You promised us mind-shielding that we will not get. You lied to us.’
Kirby didn’t even flinch. ‘I gave you the means to strike back. Maybe make the decisive break. Have you really no idea what bringing down the Maputo will do? Win the war, walk away a hero, alive and with your mind still your own. Without the upgrade, the stalemate continues and every pilot on this behemoth goes through the Fall before the war ends. My way, we have a chance so you have a chance too. Can you understand that?’
‘I’m not here for me, sir. I want you to promise me you won’t roll out this upgrade to the other squads. We had no choice. They deserve one.’
Kirby sighed. ‘Your desire to save your girlfriend is very noble. I presume that’s what this is really about?’
‘So I care. So what?’
‘Your request is noted. And now I have to go back to making the hard unpalatable choices that keep me awake all night.’
Max blinked. ‘That’s it?’
‘What else were you expecting?’ said Kirby shortly. ‘I dunno . .. some acknowledgement that you won’t make the same mistake with the other squads.’
‘What mistake?’ snapped Kirby, then tensed, his face set. ‘That . ..’ The ExO’s eyes betrayed him. ‘You knew, didn’t you? You knew all along.’
‘Like I said; unpalatable choices. Drop it, Halloran. You’re dismissed.’
‘Probably not even impossible to retrofit, is it?’ said Max, his face hot. Kirby stared at him, his expression cold. ‘Fucking hell, I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘You really should have let Valera handle this. Good-bye, Max.’
Chapter 18
My mum kept on saying I never thought of anyone but myself. Good career move as it turns out.
Maximus Halloran.
Max started running the moment he reached the neck. There were more people about now as the Heart of Granite began to prepare for the new day, but the corridors were still quiet. With every step he tried to go faster, stretch his legs that little further and pump his arms a little harder.
The run was short and energising and he fetched up at the squad rack panting hard and feeling a little light-headed. His anger had been swallowed up by a kind of revolutionary excitement that quickened his pulse still further. He needed everyone out of their pods to hear how they’d been betrayed. He started by hammering on Valera’s door.
‘Skipper, get up, you’ve got to get up!’
He stepped away and hollered down the corridor. ‘Inferno- X, get your arses out of bed! Up, up!’
Max snapped his fingers together and headed for the com panel near the dorm door. His finger was on the red alarm stud when Valera’s voice stopped him.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘He’s throwing us away,’ he said, spinning round and walking towards her, his mind so full of words he didn’t know which to say first. ‘He always knew there wouldn’t be shielding.’
Valera stilled his words with a curt hand gesture.
‘What did you do, Max?’
‘I went to see him. I confronted the bastard.’
The blood ran from Valera’s face. ‘Oh, holy fuck. Who?’ ‘Kirby! That lying, seething bag of turd.’
‘You fucking IDIOT!’ Valera bellowed the word right into his face so loud he staggered back a pace.
‘I . .. what? You wanted proof and I got it.’
Doors were starting to open along the corridor and blearyeyed pilots were emerging, heading towards the shouting.
‘No you didn’t.’ Valera pushed her hands through her hair then grabbed his shoulders. ‘Why can’t you ever listen?’
‘I don’t understand. We’ve got him, Skipper.’
‘Got what, exactly?’
‘Proof that he lied to us. Only there’s more. He— ’
‘What does it matter?’ spat Valera. ‘You had to trust me to do what had to be done.’
‘I couldn’t sit around and wait for him to kill Anna-Beth,’ he said.
‘But instead you’ve confronted a senior officer and accused him of lying.’ Valera’s expression was draining the energy from him. ‘I should have shackled you to your bed. Fucking hell.’
The dorm door smashed open and cracked against the wall and both Max and Valera backed away towards the squad room.
‘What the fuck?’ Stepanek demanded from behind them.
Hewitt, his face bruised and swollen but with an ugly smile on his face, walked in with six military police. Four of the Mips form
ed a barrier between Valera and Max and the rest of the squad. Two of them came past Hewitt and straight for Max.
‘Get your fucking hands off me!’
‘Shut up and walk out or we’ll carry your thick arse out unconscious,’ said Hewitt. ‘It’s up to you.’
‘You’re not silencing me. Your boss is a lying treacherous scumbag and every pilot needs to know what he’s doing!’
‘Hold him,’ ordered Hewitt.
The Mips, big men, grabbed an arm each and it was like being held by a pair of vices. Beyond them, Monteith, Kullani and Stepanek led a surge forward. Zapons were enabled, their hiss malevolent.
‘Let him go!’ shouted Kullani. ‘Skipper, they can’t do this?’
Her call was taken up by the rest of the squad but Valera could only wearily order calm. Max stared at Hewitt as he tried in vain to break the grip of his captors.
‘All I had to do was wait. I knew you’d louse up soon enough. Revenge is the sweetest thing.’
‘I-X, listen to me,’ said Max. ‘Kirby’s lying. It’s not i—’
One of the Mips punched him in the stomach, winding him. Zapons whirred as I-X threatened the line. Hewitt moved in surprisingly quickly, a hypo stick in his right hand. Max aimed a kick at his groin but the desk polisher dodged it easily enough.
‘Bye bye, Halloran.’ He jabbed the hypo into Max’s shoulder and stepped back.
‘Fuck you, Hewitt.’ Max stared at I-X, straight into Anna-Beth’s sheet-white face and wide, dark-rimmed eyes. He felt his strength flooding away and his mind begin to fade. ‘You were right! Don’t let them . .. don’t let them do it . ..’
And Max’s eyelids drooped he saw Hewitt’s fist fly towards his face. He didn’t feel the impact.
The silence in the squad room was as complete as the din had been moments before. Confusion and anger warred as Max was dragged away, Hewitt hissing a threat into Valera’s ear as he went. Valera waved the squad to follow her and she went and slumped in her chair, her head in her hands, hearing the others join her. There was a restless silence, broken by Monteith.
‘Skipper?’
Valera raised her head and they were all staring at her, of course they were.
‘Where’s Anna-Beth?’
‘I’m here,’ she said.
Valera looked to her right and saw the distraught Hammerclaw pilot sitting on a chair with her knees pulled up to her chest. She was wearing some of Max’s sweats.
‘What happened last night?’ asked Valera.
‘He couldn’t sleep. He got up at about half five for a coffee and never came back. I’m sorry, Skipper Orin.’
Valera held up her hands. ‘Not your fault. “Headstrong” does not adequately describe our Max. Are you all right to stay? You’re part of this now.’
Anna-Beth nodded.
‘Try not to worry,’ said Valera. ‘He’s in a shitload of trouble but none of it’s terminal. I’ll check in on the brig later.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem. All right, you lot I’ll tell you everything I’m allowed to and a couple of things that will not leave this squad room.’
Max had the most spectacular headache when he woke up. The rhythmic pain was intense enough to force him to keep his eyes closed, fearing what the light would do. It felt like his brain was trying to escape through the base of his skull.
He was lying on a pallet, which was something, and chose to stay still– might be best if everyone thought he was out cold. There was no rush, given the shit he was in, and anyway, he reckoned that if he moved his head at all, he’d probably puke.
The first thing that impressed itself upon him was the smell, or the combination of smells. For starters, it was fragrant though he couldn’t identify it . . . sort of grassy or maybe it was the seaside. Whatever. But there was more to it; the faint scent of excrement underlying disinfectant; lingering old food and stale coffee as well. It told him that he wasn’t in the brig . . . maybe in medical?
It was quiet . . . there was music – violins and a piano – from somewhere, all very gentle and calming and with no chance of making any playlist of his until he was dead. And there were a few voices. Max listened harder, but it wasn’t conversation.
Someone was mumbling incoherently – and sadly, from where Max was. Someone else was crying quietly. To his right there was rhythmic rustling and then a woman cleared her throat and turned the page of a book.
So, medical then. There was certainly plenty of light through his eyelids to support that view. And yethe still didn’t open his eyes . .. it couldn’t be medical, it didn’t feel right. There was misery here. The crying briefly rose in volume and there was a moan of pain – of loss– within it.
Max’s next breath caught in his throat and his eyes flew open to be greeted by a wash of bright and friendly colours. There was a mural on the ceiling, a pure blue sky across which beautiful white drakes flew. The walls to his left and right were bright yellow and painted with flowers and birds and grass, and the wholething felt more like a child’s nursery than the hideous dead end he knew it was.
Landfill.
‘What the fuck am I doing in here?’ he whispered, barely moving his lips.
Landfill, the end-of-life ward for drake pilots who had lost the fight against the Fall; it was the place to decline when heaters couldn’t hide the signs any more and the pilot fell prey to the full and awful range of symptoms, both mental and physical. The Fall, which every drake pilot feared more than anything, but which they risked because flying a drake was a high like no other. Max, like every other pilot, had secretly believed he would be the one to beat the Fall or that he’d die a glorious death in the pouch long before it claimed him.
The pain in Max’s skull was diminishing slowly but his anxiety was rising in its wake. He’d never been here before. No one ever came here unless they were dragged. This was where Kullani would end up, unless she managed to die on the wing and Max prayed that she would.
With a deep breath, Max hauled himself slowly up onto his elbows and then shuffled backwards against his headboard. He took in the cameras placed around the walls and in a central ceiling rose, and then edged his eyes around his surroundings as if moving them slowly would make his head hurt less.
The ward held twenty beds and, including his, nine were occupied. There were doors in three of the brightly coloured walls. Almost directly opposite him, an open door allowed a view of plants, warm lights and what looked like the edge of a fountain. To his left was a closed door with a single window letting him see enough to know it was the wash room. To his right was the big, solid door to the rest of the HoG. The floor was covered in rugs.
Max’s pulse was uncomfortably high and he felt his horror rise as he gazed at his fellow inmates. There was no one in the beds adjacent to him and it looked as though all the current inmates had been placed to maximise individual space. Max was at one end of the rectangular ward.
Opposite him were two recumbent forms and he could see little of them. They were barely moving, suggesting they were catatonic, since sleeping only led to nightmares of blood and fire . . . or so they said. Down the left and right, where fourteen beds were split into two sets of seven, three were occupied on either side.
Closest to him, a woman was propped up reading a book, and to all intents and purposes looked entirely normal. She had a drink on her table, a pair of headphones over her ears and colour in her cheeks. Normal . . . only her legs twitched and quivered violently beneath the sheets and she cleared her throat every few seconds with an agonising rasp.
Beyond her, another woman lay looking away from him. She muttered and moaned and waved imaginary things from before her eyes. And at the end of the left-hand beds, a man was sitting on the edge of his, staring down at his legs as if willing them to move while his hands and head shook.
Max had to drag his gaze to the other side. A woman lay on her side, face a rictus of terror while drool slipped from her mouth and her eyes searched everywhere and lit on no
thing. Another lay flat on her back while her whole body shook. She cried out intermittently, demanding to see the sky and yelling warnings of the fire she imagined consumed her before lapsing into muttering. And there was a man staring straight at him, or straight through him, with eyes that were bottomless so lost was he.
Not one of them would be over twenty-seven, though they all looked so much older, with grey skin, hair loss and mouths filled with rotting teeth. It was impossible to imagine them as the fit, strong drake pilots they had been. That’s what the Fall did.
Max’s lower lip was trembling and he tried to still it, not wanting to break a sob. Here was his fate; the one he’d signed up for willingly because he, like all of them, didn’t believe it would ever come to this. It was the one coming for Kullani right now and it would come for Anna-Beth too because he had failed her, failed them all. Stuck in here, Max could bellow about lies and deceit all he wanted. No one would listen, or care, because it was already too late.
So much wreckage, so much waste. So much unshakeable destiny.
Max drew his knees up to his chest and sobbed.
Chapter 19
How majestic the behemoths looked, gazing down on us tiny humans with their benevolent eyes. How graceful their movement and how welcoming their bones to the humans who rode within them. It should have been the beginning of an age of wonder. History will give it a far more damning title.
Professor Helena Markov, CEO, ERCP
Flight deck alpha was busy with preparations for the day’s sorties. All the drake squads were going out to scout, the basilisks were on a forward recon, and there were ground exercises for marines on the slate too. Orders were echoing out of loud speakers and the activity in Flight Command was brisk and busy.
Grim walked over to Martha, pushing her arms into her bright yellow overalls hearing the drake kicking at her pen and the metal reverberating to the blows.
‘What are you so ticked off about?’ Grim zipped up her overalls and looked through the wide window. ‘Restless for some action?’
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