Heart of Granite

by James Barclay

  ‘What about life systems?’

  ‘That depends on how long we’re staying here and whether we still plan to hunt the Maputoor not.’

  ‘Assume that we are.’

  ‘Then it’s going to get uncomfortable. To keep ground and air assets in combat condition, we’ll have to divert power from the core life systems. Even so, we’ll struggle to deliver peak nutrition levels to any of our assets. The HoG is already on reduced absorption. Combine that with her digestive inefficiency– she’s been excreting undigested proteins for some days now — and we’ll be in emergency conditions within fortyeight hours.’

  ‘You’re lucky I’m not one to shoot the messenger.’

  ‘It’s not that . . . well it is . .. it’s that, well while we can do the standing exercise routines with the Heart . ..’

  ‘Yes we’ve all enjoyed her gyrating on the spot and the rotational leg lift boogie.’

  Rosenbach grimaced. ‘It’s not enough. Standing still places stress on the spine, and allows lactic acid to build up in the key joints. That affects the forty cals and the spin-up of the rocket sheds. We’re talking artillery jams already.’

  Avery scratched her forehead. ‘Anything else?’

  Rosenbach tapped her ppalm and Avery’s pinged as it received the report file. ‘You said there was bad weather on the way?’

  ‘An almighty sand storm is hitting us just after dusk, winds in excess of a hundred and ten. We’ll be locked tight for tonight and well into tomorrow. Satellite coms will be degraded or nonexistent.’

  ‘If the sand storm lasts more than twelve hours, battery charge will be so low we’ll have to head east immediately.’

  She knew it shouldn’t have but the news actually cheered Avery. Something to force Solomon’s hand perhaps. Then again, she’d probably have the crew attach ropes to the Heart and pull her into battle.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll take your findings and recommendations to the Marshal General.’

  ‘Thank you, Commander.’

  ‘Is Professor Markov back on board?’

  ‘Arrived about three hours ago from the Steelback. She’s briefed and, well, you know, irritable.’

  Avery laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. Perhaps you’d like to direct her ire towards Kirby or the Marshal Gen in the first instance. Up here, we’re just trying to sweep up their mess.’

  Chapter 30

  To guide a subject successfully through the Fall would move the course of human evolution in a new and exciting direction that would benefit us all. To say it would move us further from God is arrant nonsense based on groundless fears and a slavish adherence to ancient writings of dubious provenance.

  Professor Helena Markov, ERC Lecture Programme

  Corsini was at his desk and it looked as if he hadn’t slept. Crumpled suit, unshaven, unkempt hair, and his eyes were redrimmed but bright.

  ‘Been on the DoubleOs again, Gilles?’ asked Solomon, settling down at her desk in her quarters and facing him through a desktop screen. She’d taken the precaution of appearing a little ragged herself. No point in pumping up his self-righteous indignation further than it was already bound to be. ‘I’m guessing you’ve either found a new intern to screw or the crowds have got a little large on the front lawn.’

  Corsini said nothing but his face flushed a deeper shade of absolutely furious. He picked up his screen and Solomon was treated to a jumble of jittering office imagery before he pointed it through his large bay window at the crowd below. Actually, it was less a crowd at the gates of the presidential residence, more of a howling mob, in front of whom a group of security personnel stood filming everyone and everything that they did.

  Corsini held the screen there until the mob noticed him and began hurling abuse and missiles in his direction. A couple of halfbricks bounced from the windows. Corsini didn’t flinch. Solomon assumed he must be used to it. He walked back to his desk and replaced the screen in its cradle before sitting down.

  ‘All right, so people are unhappy,’ said Solomon. ‘Just for context, how many demonstrators are out there on a normal day?’

  Corsini shrugged. ‘Thirty to forty, usually religious nuts, a few peace protestors and the Luddite brigade.’

  ‘I see.’ There had to be five hundred people out there today. ‘I’ll never ever say this again but I’m sorry the events on the Heart of Granite have affected you in this way.’

  Corsini gave a harsh laugh. ‘If it was just them, I wouldn’t care. Unfortunately, the newsnets are running outrageous conspiracy theories twenty-four seven so I’m having to host a series of meetings to convince them we are not actually running a Fall research programme despite its proscription. They aren’t buying the rogue drake thing. No one is.’

  Solomon didn’t reply at once. This was at the upper end of her PR fears and the acceleration of the situation was spectacular. If this got any worse, Corsini would shut them down, forcing him into inevitably disastrous diplomatic moves.

  ‘The truth is that Halloran was in Landfill after exhibiting the early stages of the Fall. He broke out, escaped, and will be recaptured within the next twenty four hours.’

  Corsini stared straight down the barrel of the screen. ‘No one, but no one, gives a shit about any of that. You’re telling me the story I specifically said no one was buying.’

  ‘You asked for the truth,’ said Solomon, feeling an unusual sensation of discomfort.

  ‘And I’m still waiting for it. I also speak regularly to Professor Markov because, for very obvious reasons, I have to keep a forensic watch on Project Cerberus. We are playing a very dangerous game here.’

  Solomon made to speak but Corsini raised a hand.

  ‘Let’s assume I’m not a total idiot. Although I invited you to run the latest upgrade, I do not recall sanctioning live Fallsurvival testing. So, let’s try the truth again, shall we?’

  Corsini was enjoying himself despite his situation.

  ‘Halloran found out more than he should and had to be silenced. No one has sanctioned Cerberus survival testing.’

  ‘Well congratulations on a monumental screw-up, then because it’s starting to look like Halloran did it for himself. Promise me you’re about to recapture him.

  ‘I can’t do that. His locators are gone, his cams are gone; he’s disappeared.’

  Corsini leant right into the screen ‘It’s a fucking desert, Alex! And he’s flying a thirty-metre-long fire drake. How hard can it be?’

  ‘It’s a fucking big desert and he could have gone anywhere. Now there’s a major storm on the way. Even if he’s survived this long, a sandstorm will finish him off.’

  ‘You’d better pray you’re right because if he Falls and survives and word gets out, I’ll lose the election, if I last in office that long.’

  ‘I’m aware of the risks,’ said Solomon, feeling an unwelcome flush in her face.

  ‘You know, Alex, I really don’t think you are.’

  The silence was growing ever more agonising. And as much as they told themselves contact was extremely unlikely, the spectre of hope was within each one of them and the longer they were denied what they wanted, the harder it got. Valera almost wished she hadn’t asked Calder to put the coms package together in the first place.

  The rig was in her pod and wires trailed out of the door where they hooked into the old ship’s com through which Calder had managed to access the main wide-beam com system and hide their signal amidst the mass of traffic in and out of the behemoth.

  Valera took a breath and tried again.

  ‘Hal-X, ValX. If you copy, please respond. Max, there’s bad weather racing in from the east. Gale force winds have kicked up a sand storm. You need to find shelter urgently.’ Tears suddenly threatened and her voice wobbled. ‘Please, Max, respond. We need to know you’re alive. We want to help you. Hang in there, HalX.’

  Nothing. Not even static clicks or wind rush.

  Valera looked up at Stepanek, expecting to see denial but he shrugged. ‘He�
��s a little bastard but he gets to you, doesn’t he? Got to respect what he tried to do and I hate it that I can’t help.’

  ‘We have to believe we still can,’ said Valera, wiping her eyes with the heels of her palm.

  ‘How?’ asked Stepanek. ‘He’s got nowhere to go.’

  ‘Footsteps!’ warned Redfearn from outside. ‘Multiple, approaching fast.’

  ‘Calder!’ Valera snapped her fingers. ‘Reds, get clear. Grim, get out of sight and stay in here.’

  Calder yanked on the wires, pulling them from the behemoth’s com. She bundled them up with the old suit com unit and was stuffing them into Valera’s cupboard when the squad door opened, slapping against the bone wall.

  ‘Don’t you people ever knock?’ asked Redfearn from outside just before Valera opened her pod door to confront the intruders.

  ‘I don’t need your permission,’ said Kirby. ‘Get your squad into the rec right now.’

  Valera stepped out into the corridor coming uncomfortably close to the ExO.

  ‘You’re rather in my way, sir,’ she said, her mind full of the joy she’d take from kicking him straight in his balls. ‘Reds, get the squad all neat and tidy, would you? I’d hate to disappoint the ExO.’

  Kirby was forced to move back, close to Hewitt and Andersen. Valera smiled sweetly and led Kullani and the others out of her pod.

  ‘What were you doing in there?’ demanded Kirby, walking close behind them.

  ‘Group sex, sir,’ said Valera. ‘What else is there to do?’

  Valera sat in her usual place, smiling at her squad, all standing to attention like they were about to meet the new teacher at school. Kirby would know it was a hair from an insult but that he could do nothing about it.

  ‘Have a seat, sir.’

  Stepanek was smiling at Andersen. ‘Dental work going okay?’

  ‘You will hold your tongue,’ snapped Kirby. He didn’t sit down. ‘The fact is I need your help. Halloran is going to die out there and the coming storm meanswe have little time. He’s weak and sick and so is his drake. We can save his life so let’s put aside who did what to help who. Tell me where he’s hiding and we’ll go get them both. Squad’s like family, right? So do the right thing by him.’

  Kirby stared squarely at Valera and she met his gaze while she tried to unpick how she was feeling.

  ‘How can we know where he’s gone, sir?’ she said, keeping her voice deliberately calm and even. ‘We’ve had no way of contacting him since you threw him in Landfill.’

  Kirby spread his hands. ‘I just don’t believe you. It’s preposterous to think that none of you helped Halloran. Plainly, Grimaldi had her orders and I presume she’s here somewhere. Perhaps I’ll take her in for more detailed questioning in advance of her official hearing. She or one of the pilots from Landfill will talk and then I’ll have what I want. So, last chance, InfernoX. Speak up, save Max.’

  Kullani twitched but said nothing. Kirby smiled horribly and turned his focus on her.

  ‘And then there’s you, Pilot Risa Kullani. A couple of things were brought to my attention . . . a little note Moeller made about your condition in what he thinks is a private log, a bit of footage from the flight deck that came my way. Makes me wonder if you aren’t hiding something rather more serious than a bang on the head.’

  ‘I’m fine, sir. And I’ve had a brain pattern scan since.’

  ‘Still, as ExO, I wonder if a couple of days under test in Landfill would show that you’re Falling. But, you know, I’m not without heart. None of these things has to happen so long as I get enough intel to lead me to Halloran. You know how things are. I’m a busy man, prone to forgetting trivialities.’

  Kullani stood up immediately and gave Valera a hug, speaking softly into her ear at the same time.

  ‘Get Max. He can save me.’

  Valera froze, realising what Kullani intended and not seeing a better option.

  ‘Best you take me for testing. Better to be safe, right?’

  Kirby was plainly offbalance. ‘What?’

  Kullani smiled. ‘Oh dear, no other bargaining chip? What’s your next play, sir? Thing is, even if we knew anything, none of us would talk. And you know, the only people tougher than drake pilots are the flight crew.’

  Kirby stared at her. ‘You’re making the biggest mistake of your short life.’

  Kullani shrugged and pointed. ‘Landfill’s up in the skull. Want me to show you the way?’

  Chapter 31

  There is no chatup line in the world that can beat; ‘I’m Max, I’m a fire drake pilot.’

  Maximus Halloran.

  They’d all been looking in the wrong place. Every pilot k new where they’d go if they went rogue and none of them would ever tell command. So the squadrons searched the ground for every likely hiding place, just as they’d been ordered, and none were surprised they didn’t find him.

  The ground-bound always thought in two dimensions and were arrogant enough to think a pilot would do the same. So while ground and air lizards were tasked with searching every centimetre of sand and the few areas of cover it contained, Max and Martha were flying very high, floating on the upper thermals, their energy use minimal, their peace complete though sadly temporary.

  They had slept on the ground that first night. It was safe enough, though it had been cold and Max had spent most of his time in Martha’s pouch, feeling her shiver and her yearning for the heated pen that had been her home all her life. Yet he didn’t sense any anger or regret and he tried not to think too hard about why.

  Waking this morning had been an anxious affair. Max had half-expected to be changed. To have Fallen.But he wasn’t and didn’t even feel weird . . . not cold or hot, no blurred eyesight or seeing visions of blood and fire everywhere.

  But it wouldn’t last. Not unless he could figure a way out of the mess he was in and that didn’t seem too likely. He’d ignored it all day while they rode the glorious high skies far to the east but then Martha had begun to get edgy because she could sense something. It wasn’t just that they were both getting tired again, and hungry . . . bloody hell Max was famished . . . it was more than that.

  Valera’s voice over the com had startled him after the day of static and he’d listened while the yearning to be back among them grew. His family were still with him and still hoping. He’d been desperate to respond but knew that he could not. Not if there was the slightest chance of being tracked. So he listened and kept the memories of her voice to remind him who he was fighting for.

  Martha mourned a soft sound in her throat, half growl, half wail, and it hit him right in his heart. He wondered what she’d felt. Maybe a tensing in his muscles or something in his mind that he’d projected unconsciously. Whatever it was, it made him feel better. Less alone.

  ‘We’ve got bigger problems than feeling sorry for ourselves, princess,’ said Max. ‘We need a place to shelter. You can feel the change in the air, can’t you?’

  It was a stupid question. Way up here, Max could feel it through her wings and in the occasional gentle buffeting of her sleek body. The outriders of the oncoming gale were reaching out, prodding them, warning them to get clear.

  He turned Martha west away from the storm, heading back in the direction of the Heart of Granite, feeling the tremor in her muscles and the tiredness in his making the turn a little jerky. He wondered what would happen if she reached her limit of exhaustion, whether she’d fall from the sky or choose to take over and land before both of them were killed. Best not to find out.

  The afternoon was on the wane and Max estimated the sand storm was about two hours behind him. By the time he was in the vicinity of the HoG, she’d be locked down waiting for it to hit. They’d be scanning the radar for anything running in front of the storm so he had to stay high and well to the north of her to stay in neutral territory. The Steelback and the Ironclaw would be moving up to take flank duties if the attack on the Maputo was still going ahead once the storm had blown itself out. It wouldn’
t do to stray into their search grids.

  The camelherd’s shack came to mind, above which Anna- Beth had met him during that fateful skytime. It was a ruin but must have survived worse than what was coming. It had survived a war. And of course that’s where all this had started. Where Anna-Beth had told him what was really going on. Part of him, a big part, wanted to take it all back and live in blissful ignorance. What he should have done was persuade her to land and take her to the old mattress he’d seen through holes in the roof. Surely there’d have been some spring left in it. It would have been beautiful; alone in the desert, sex to the echoes of drake calls and the whip of the wind around the corners of the building. Her scent, the feel of her wrapped around him, the sounds she made and the rippling of her body. There’d have been no need for words, no need for all the pain.

  Max’s eyes snapped open and for a moment he was disoriented. His limbs jerked reflexively with the shock of sudden consciousness and Martha squawked, her wings flaring and her legs jerking down. Max shuddered. He looked about him, using Martha’s senses to assess his position.

  He’d been asleep. He knew that, but not for how long. The desert was largely featureless, he was high in the sky and it all looked the same. He scanned for dust clouds to the north, anything to signify the movement of the Heart’s sister behemoths and there they were, moving up before the storm forced them to a stop.

  Max bit his lip. In his estimation, they should have been further away and at his eleven o’clock but they were a good deal closer and coming round to his ten. He felt a chill; he’d been asleep for ages, an hour at least. That was a lifetime in the pouch.

  Martha had flown on, his headup display confirming she’d maintained height and direction. Whether she had assumed control directly was impossible to say but the inevitable relaxation of his body hadn’t altered her flight.

  ‘So is this how it starts?’

  Max was half-expecting to hear some stereotypical gravelly dragon voice say yes, but of course there was nothing. Martha responded to his arms trimming her attitude, beginning a long, slow descent. Max focused back on the ground far below, hoping to pick out a less obvious hiding place; a west-facing rocky outcrop would do.