Heart of Granite

by James Barclay

  ‘You think he might have survived?’ asked Gurney.

  ‘Can’t fault a skipper for hoping,’ she said.

  ‘And this is Max we’re talking about,’ said Monteith.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Valera, warming to the thought. ‘Max-fucking-Halloran!’

  She would have explained but for a massive impact shaking the Heart from spine to claw, shaking locker doors open. The behemoth bellowed with a pain that chilled them all and sent thrumming vibrations through the floor. A sound none of them had ever heard before, would never had thought to. Outside, ERCs of every class chittered, screeched or roared in fear and confusion.

  Valera led the stampede towards the door but they hadn’t quite reached it before the lights went out.

  ‘Bring the defence grid back online!’ ordered Avery. ‘Where’s fire control? Rosenbach get us back up. I need eyes!’

  There was uproar. In the dim lights offered by the back-up generators, orders were flying across ranks of consoles and tactables. The two hundred metre arc of screens across the front of the C and C was blank and dark. No radar, no thermals, even the feed from the Heart’s eyes was down. They were deaf, blind and defenceless.

  ‘It’s not an EMP strike,’ shouted Rosenbach, running towards Avery. ‘Wyvern, I think. Something’s got through the armour at a dry spot, just like I feared. We haven’t lost any systems independent of the HoG’s core generator. Back-ups have already brought key environmental systems online. We still have the EMP net but we don’t have weapon systems or any powered musculature systems beyond vital functions.’

  Avery’s head snapped round. ‘What?’

  ‘Incoming missiles will not be targeted.’

  ‘Yes I heard,’ said Avery. ‘We can take a few hits. Can’t we?’

  ‘Armour has been prioritised but it won’t keep everything out.’

  ‘I’ll take what I can get. What systems are disabled?’ ‘My best guess is the core power supply has been interrupted. Explains why no system with automatic redundancy has come back online.’

  ‘Make a better guess.’

  Rosenbach’s cheeks flushed. ‘Elements of the central electrical control systems have been compromised. The HoG is paralysed.’

  Avery felt her first flush of real anxiety for about ten years.

  She flicked out her p-palm and pinged Moeller on his private com.

  ‘Nic, we’re in a real pickle here,’ said Moeller.

  Avery could hardly hear him above the din of voices yelling for something, anything, to happen and the sounds of what might have been destruction echoing up from the flight deck. ‘Us too, Gerry. Tell me the flight deck is open.’

  ‘Not all the way.’

  ‘Shit. Can you launch drakes?’

  ‘Yes but it’ll be a challenge. Wind-speed is dropping rapidly, but there’s still plenty of sand in the air.’

  ‘The Maputo is going to give it a go, trust me. Get the drakes up, get them defending us from the spine out.’ ‘What’s going on, Nic?’

  ‘We’re paralysed. You have to buy us some time.’ ‘Understood, I’ll get the drakes busy. Moeller out.’ Avery looked up from her p-palm to see Rosenbach staring at her. Multiple strikes impacted the HoG. Warnings flashed on a few screens, unnaturally bright amidst the dominating gloom.

  Dust was shaken from the metal and bone roof. The Heart moaned in pain again, a hideous mournful sound.

  ‘Hang on, old thing,’ said Avery. ‘How long before we’re back up and running?’

  ‘I don’t even know what the core problem is,’ she said. ‘I’m locked out of eighty per cent of systems. We’re existing on workarounds.’

  ‘Get me back in control fast. Right now our only line of defence is a few drakes flying half-blind in a gale. Prioritise: I need my guns and my missiles.’

  ‘I understand, ma’am.’

  And Avery knew that she did; because if the enemy got the drop on them, and the paralysis stunt was planned not fortune, they could lost the HoG altogether.

  Chapter 36

  One thing you don’t get to do as a behemoth commander is give your ride a rub down or a scratch under the chin to let it know you care. Part of me wishes I could. But I suppose if I really want to get close to my behemoth, I can put my hands in her brain instead.

  Commander Nicola Avery.

  ‘Firedrake squadrons, Flight Command. Whiteheat-M; Lavaflow-A; Firestorm-E; Hammerclaw-K; Flamehawk-G; Inferno-X. Stack up, for take-off. You have your flight plans, your departure vectors and your defence zones. Wind speeds are peaking at one hundred and three kph. Space is tight on exit, and there are some vicious vortices out there, so get the power on, get clear and hunt well.’

  Valera nudged her drake onto the crowded deck. ‘Flight Com, Val-X, InfernoX copies all.’

  Down towards the partially open ramp, the runway was a slowly clearing mess. The crippling strike had caused panic among the ground lizards. Riderless geckos and basilisks had scattered across the deck, sending ground crew and infantry running for cover.

  There were people down on the ground among fallen crates. Medics in carts with blue and green lights flashing whirred out to perform triage. Orders rang out from the com and a well rehearsed procedure moved into action. Jockeyed basilisks began rounding up the stray lizards; teams of ground crew and infantry moved in with lines and prods to push and pull the errant beasts back towards their pens; and where they could, jockeys mounted subdued rides.

  And all that in the jumping shadows of emergency lighting. Valera, once she was safely in the pouch, watched it through her drake’s eyes. The clearing of the lizards was performed with admirable swiftness but merely served to put the plight of injured infantry and crew in the spotlight. Valera counted over thirty lying amidst the debris caused by the missile strikes. She saw neck braces, drips and splints; blood on the bone floor; and three shrouds spread over fatalities.

  She pursed her lips and waited, the drake com quiet, waiting for the signal, which came after an age and a further slam of incoming ordinance that shook spars from the roof, brought down lights and drew renewed screeches from already tense ground lizards. Her drake, like all of them, radiated the desire to be free, to fly and wreak revenge.

  ‘All squadrons, Flight Command, runway is clear. Clear enough. Good luck out there. Hammerclaws, you are cleared to run.’

  Valera sat her drake back and stretched her neck so she could see them go.It remained a glorious sight. Her drake’s eyes were good and the gloom coalesced into sharp greyscale images, giving her clear sight of the last few strides and take off. The Hammer’s skipper cleared first and Valera sucked in a breath as she saw the drake blown hard to the right before it steadied and drove straight on under the tail, picking its moment to power away.

  And so they launched. Every now and again, an anxious shifting of drake claws from the watchers signified a tricky take-off or a particularly robust blast from the gale. The worst was a Whiteheat drake, blown onto its back as it picked up its claws to fly. The drake disappeared below the jammed ramp and com silence fell barring calls to the unfortunate pilot. The whoops that accompanied the reappearance of the drake as she rose up to the left of the tail and swept out of the narrow gap and away bore testament to the tension running through them all.

  It felt like an age before Valera was front and centre, her depleted squad, just ten out of the original twenty-four, lined up behind her.

  ‘Flight Com, Val-X, we are good to go.’

  ‘Copy that,’ said Moeller. ‘Strike hard and all come back. InfernoX, you are clear to run.’

  ‘Acknowledged,’ said Valera.

  She rolled her shoulders and splayed her fingers. Her drake shook herself at the wing roots then snapped her wings out and back. They rocked into take-off position and raced down the runway. Ahead, where she was used to the wide-open space of a fully deployed ramp and tail, there was a narrow slit, beyond which dawn was struggling to make an impression.

  Missiles still ripped into the HoG’
s outer armour and the behemoth shuddered at each impact. An EMP strike made the defensive net shiver. Nothing gave but neither hide nor polarised shield could maintain integrity forever.

  Valera reached minimum velocity well before the hatched zone and focused her drake on more speed. She could already feel the fingers of the gale trying to push her off-course. Her drake accelerated harder, stamped the last five long steps and took to the air.

  Immediately, eddies and vortices whipping around the ramp, the tail and from the paralysed behemoth legs below struck her. She corrected, using tiny movements of her arms and legs and reaching out with her mind to suggest balanced flight. Freed of the minute delays of purely physical direction, the drake dipped a wing, flared the other and adjusted its attitude, allowing Valera to find the space to get them clear.

  Beyond the shelter of the HoG, she was exposed to the full force of the storm. She pushed into the lightening sky as hard as she could, the gusting, sand-filled winds buffeting her with each wing beat. Sand fizzed across scales and drove into her face, forcing her to seal the pouch completely and rely on filtered air.

  The knowledge that Max couldn’t possibly have survived the night in conditions far worse bled into her mind and hard, and though she tried to cling on to hope, there was none ‘Inferno-X, ValX, it’s cruel on exit, give your drakes their heads, let them fly out. Rendezvous on me and let’s gather in a rotation. Visibility is no more than a hundred metres at best—’ Detonations bloomed against the Heart, sending plumes of flame and debris into the sky. ‘That’s got to hurt. Flight Com, Val-X, got a bead on those last impacts. Let me get closer. I-X, in my wake.’

  ‘Copy, Val-X. Remaining squadrons are moving into position. No contacts as yet.’

  She listened to the acknowledgements of her squad as she ducked back towards the Heart, levelling out at a hundred, and flying from tail to nose before angling up again, her squad in her wing whirls.

  ‘Flight Com, Val-X. Significant damage along the right flank between the fourth and twentieth vertebrae. Multiple impacts, none appears to have caused a rupture but there is some smouldering and minor cracking. I have a single large impact to the Heart’s head right on the bridge of her nose. Fires are burning, can’t confirm intrusive strike but it’s a focused attack, no other skull strikes.’

  ‘Copy, Val-X. Get back on station. Flight Com out.’

  Passing over the skull damage, her drake shuddered and barked. A confusion of emotions and half-grabbed images ran through Valera, none of which she could make out.

  Valera shook her head to clear it but the after images left her feeling a little anxious. She ascended to a thousand metres and moved into a wide circle on station, seeing her squad drop in to make the rotation.

  ‘Any problems, report in now,’ she said over the squad com. No one reported in. ‘Squad, we’ll take this in chevrons. Stepanek and C-Three, cover the left flank and respond to calls from the Hammers. Monteith, you’ve got C-Two. Cover the right flank, Whiteheat and Lavaflow. I’ll take the head, Firestorm and Flamehawk. Keep me posted. Trust yourselves, trust the squad, we are IX.’

  They all joined the chorus. Valera noted the sky growing brighter. Vision was increasing; up to a hundred and fifty by now. The gale was finally blowing itself out and she knew that as fast as it had come on them, it would be gone and most of the sand would drop from the sky. She hoped the enemy would launch before then . . . I-X was good in the dust.

  ‘All squadrons, Flight Command. Missile barrage ended. Expect drake contacts. Flight Com out.’

  ‘They want the HoG alive,’ said Valera. ‘Now she’s immobilised they won’t so much as scratch her again.’

  ‘Contacts, contacts.’ It was O’Regan. ‘Whiteheat has contacts. We have . . . one hundred plus inbound. Gonna need assistance here on a bearing of one-sixfive.’

  ‘Regan-M, ValX, can you be more specific?’

  ‘My pleasure, Val,’ said O’Regan. ‘I’m, at a thousand and flying below . . . now . . . five squadrons, repeat, five squadrons in wide front formation. They are at a height of two hundred, air speed one fifty, bearing zero four zero.’

  ‘Subtle. Flight Com can you confirm contacts?’

  ‘Negative, Val-X, you’re beyond current radar range,’ said Moeller. ‘All squadrons, orders: engage enemies on bearing one-six-five. Regan-M will assign targets. I-X to remain on support and second strike. Hit them hard.’

  ‘Copy Flight Com,’ said O’Regan. ‘All squads, ascend to a thousand and come on to one-five-six. Match speed with the enemy and make it snappy, this dust won’t last long. Targets as follows . ..’

  The UE drakes moved into attack positions, Valera bringing her chevron up a hundred metres adrift of Firestorm and Flamehawk. She didn’t much like the idea of I-X as back-up but despite the upgrade their depleted number made them the obvious second strike team. Shame though; a full-strength I-X could have practically destroyed a Maf squad in one pass.

  Valera listened while the confirmations rolled in. The HoG drakes were on station. Below them, picked out as shadows in the remaining dust, the Maputo’s drakes closed on the stricken behemoth.

  ‘Flight Com, Regan-M, all squadrons standing by.’

  ‘Copy,’ said Moeller. ‘We have you and your targets on scope. Five klicks out and closing. You are cleared to attack.’

  ‘Copy Flight Com. All squads; strike is a go.’

  The HoG’s squadrons attacked with I-X drakes tracking them, looking for their moment. A dark mass ahead and below about three hundred metres resolved itself into a broad formation of sand brown drakes. The five squadrons, in near perfect sphere formations, were spread across a klick of sky.

  ‘Very pretty,’ said Gurney. ‘Even prettier when we set it on fire.’

  ‘Reckon they’re all upgraded?’ asked Monteith.

  ‘Reckon they’re not,’ said Gurney. ‘They aren’t coming in fast enough.’

  The ferocity of the attack was breath-taking and Valera winced as Whiteheat battered into the central sphere. Brutal impacts bent Maf drakes in two. Claws ripped great rents in drake flesh or sought holds for close fighting. Maf and HoG drakes twisted and turned, bit and struck while they dropped towards the deck; each looking for the killing hold, or the heartbeat in which to breathe super-heated flame. Under the assault, the enemy sphere dissolved into disarray.

  The sheer violence was repeated across the enemy formation. Valera was tuned into the I-X squad com while her people reported on dozens of enemy drakes taken from the sky. Below her, the Firestormers had smashed into the enemy’s left flank. They’d split into two, the first section crashing into the rear of the enemy formation, shattering the sphere, shunting enemies off-balance, biting, ripping, killing.

  The second section came in right behind, pouring fire over struggling enemies, heads angled back to play their flame downwind and sending multiple bodies tumbling and smoking from the sky. Valera counted seven down to one Firestorm drake with wings shredded, spiralling into the sand.

  ‘Our turn,’ said Valera. ‘In your wing pairs, I-X, engage at will.’

  The Maputo’s drakes fought for cohesion but with HoG squadrons all over them, they had been forced to break away to reform in smaller defensive units.

  ‘Skipper?’ asked Gurney.

  ‘Drop off me twenty metres, Gur-X. I’ll pick the target, you sweep up the collateral.’

  ‘Copy, Skipper.’

  Valera flexed her toes and her drake’s claws mimicked her move. She flew on a few beats before diving vertically on the remains of the left-hand sphere of Maf flyers. Valera backed her drake’s wings and slammed into her target. The force of impact broke its neck right behind its skull and the two of them rolled right and down, clipping a second, knocking it into out of balance.

  Gurney swooped by a wing beat later, overflying the clipped drake and toasting the enemy from snout to tail at very close range before angling upwards steeply to join her.

  ‘Nice work,’ she said ‘Keep it going whil
e they’re off-guard. Stay among them.’

  Valera drove into a tight, upward right-hand curve. The air was charged with flame and anger as drakes collided, bodies rippling and spinning. Necks twined, fangs sought dominant hold, claws raked and tail spikes struck. Firestorm and Flamehawk came round for their second passes. Drakes surged in, blistering a corridor into the centre of the battle, their arrow formation devastatingly effective. At least four more enemies were taken from the fight, plummeting down to the sand to join the littering of corpses that had to number over forty now.

  Sunlight bled over the horizon. Her drake locked its gaze on to a pair of Mafs whipping through the sky on the tail of two Firestormers.

  ‘Watch my six, Gur-X. I’m on the hunt.’

  ‘I’m on it, Skipper.’

  Valera twitched her left arm down. Her drake barrel-rolled, taking her around a friendly drake. Ahead, she could see her targets through a confusion of sparring drakes and by the focus of their flying they were still tracking the Firestorm pair and maybe two hundred metres adrift of them and closing. The augmented enemy were fast and their slick movements were a contrast to those of the drakes they pursued. Not dramatic, but there all the same.

  ‘Into my slipstream, Gur-X. Two targets, you take left.’

  ‘Copy, Skipper.’

  Valera opened her mind a fraction more, her drake sucking it in greedily, cajoling her for more. Valera twitched her arms and imagined speed. Her drake reacted, the connection sending a rush through her body and mind. Great beats of its wings powered it into the maelstrom of the fight.

  A knot of sparring drakes dropped into her path. She snapped her drake’s wings back and shot through the tiniest of gaps, feeling the brushing of bodies. Her drake fed her imagery of the dozens of individual battles in their zone that would cross their path. Valera felt the suggestions of direction from her ride, overlaid them with her own and plotted her route, switching left to drive around a tumbling pair locked by tooth and claw; and ducking under two enemies being chased by six Lavaflow flyers.