Decoding it was the problem; and like learning a new language, some of it was obvious, like the representations of the HoG and the Maputo because of their sheer scale. But much was confused and though he had an idea of how a friend and enemy drake sensed to him, he couldn’t identify individuals and he so wanted to know which one was Anna-Beth.
He had sensory imagery of the paths of every drake in the battle while ahead, about fifty klicks, the enemy behemoth was stationary with a few drakes circling above it as dozens of ground lizards moved away from it and towards the HoG. There were others too, heading off in more tangential directions. He could see and monitor them all.
There’s so much we don’t know. Holy Mother, Martha, this is amazing. But I need coms. I need to be able to speak to my friends.
Abruptly, the incoming com feed activated and his head was full of chatter that made him well up. Back and forth between pilots, between Flight Com and the squadrons too. He grinned to hear Moeller’s voice and a few others from the gantry. And there were Valera, Monteith and Redfearn among others, picking targets and toasting Mafs.
Of course . . . just think it and it happens, right?
Martha purred her confirmation, more warmth in his mind. Is Anna-Beth still out there?
Another confirmation but barbed this time.
Don’t be jealous . .. it’s a different thing, right? So what do
we do, princess? Join the battle or stay in station?
Martha didn’t respond but continued to ascend in a steep spiral. Max couldn’t be certain but it seemed Martha was looking for, or waiting for, something. Something she couldn’t or wouldn’t share, and he was forced to listen to his friends fighting. It was plain from the chatter that the enemy had the upper hand.
We have to do something.
Max desperately wanted to speak, to announce his return, but he felt pressure from Martha to remain silent for now. His found his trust in her was complete so he bit his tongue. A familiar voice cut across the rest, carried on the emergency channel.
‘This is Captain Meyer, two platoon, Exterminators. I am fifty klicks to your south west. The Maputo has launched multiple ground lizards, all approaching your position. Six missile-carrying geckos are on an easterly heading seeking ideal firing positions. Missile tags indicate bio or chem agent. Over . . . Flight Com, please respond.’
They chilled and Martha squawked. Max searched his sensory map for the missile geckos that no one barring Meyer knew were out there because the HoG’s arrays were down and ground visibility was only just beginning to improve.
Fuck fuck fuck. Bios . . . they want to kill Mother.
There they were . . . or he assumed it was them. A group of signatures represented by a series of mid-bass heartbeats, minimal brain activity and thermal trails left by feet and tails. It was no longer time for silence.
‘Meyer, Hal-X, do you copy.’
‘Meyer copies. Confirm your call sign.’
‘You heard me, Meyer, it’s Max.’
‘Fuck off, Max.’
‘Confirm your location and threat level to the HoG.’
Max heard Meyer say something to somebody else and then give a sigh. ‘I’m strapped to a leg of the fucking Maputo, Halloran. And I’d say the Mafs are about to launch something lethal right down the Heart’s throat. And why aren’t you dead, you bastard? I so wanted you to be dead.’
Martha barked a roar.
‘Martha doesn’t like you talking that way,’ said Max, feeling their anger. ‘I can help, Meyer. Personal shit later, all right?’
‘You fucking owe me,’ said Meyer.
‘Whatever you want. The missile geckos, whatever they are. Confirm their direction.’
‘Due east of our position. No escort, just snuck out when their drakes went off to fight ours.
‘Copy that, I’m tracking them.’
‘Then take them out, Halloran. Do it for the nine of my platoon who died last night because of you.’
‘Wow,’ said Max. ‘Sorry you lost people, Meyer. Hal-X out.’
‘Fuck you, Halloran. And do something good for once in your life.’
Okay, princess, let’s do some damage.’
They came about on to a westerly heading and swept back over the HoG and into the empty desert. There were the enemy geckos, about twenty klicks from the HoG’s motionless head and sprinting hard. Meyer was wrong: they weren’t going to launch down her throat, they were aiming for a free shot into the partially open flight deck. It would be a surer way to kill her.
They aren’t going to get a chance to try.
They angled in to intercept across a clear sky. It was going to be a doddle. There were six of them, spread out across a few hundred metres of desert. Ten klicks and closing, and they were going to catch them broadside and helpless. Shared images tumbled through their consciousness representing a plan. Claws, fire, fangs and tail. And this time, Max was going to taste the blood himself.
A thousand metres out and flying at six hundred, they dropped into a staggering dive, their wings flat against their flanks. At five hundred out they were spotted; ordinance wound out of geckos’ flanks and spun up, tracking them.
Shit, why don’t we have those?
The air whistled past as they closed and they could see four missiles on the back of each one, squat and evil. They adjusted their flight slightly and saw the guns, forty calibres, nudge round and get a lock. They banked away hard, spreading their wings to drive into a steep climb. Forty-cal rounds thumped out of the twin guns. They spun and twisted, arched and dived, their movement fast enough, slick enough to beat the guns. This time. They steadied at fifteen hundred, turned and tracked the geckos.
For the briefest moment, Max paused to wonder how much of that had been him, how much her and how much them.He’d relive the thrill later; when the job was done and Mother was saved.
We need help. Martha opened her mouth and roared long into the open sky. His com sparked up and he could hear the battle being played out. Max had to calm a rush of nerves before he spoke. He hadn’t thought he’d ever do it again.
‘Val-X, one-to-one, do you copy.’
‘Val-X copies on one-to-one,’ came the reply. ‘Confirm call sign.’
‘It’s me, Skipper.’
‘Holy fuck, Max!’ screamed Valera. ‘Is this for real?’
‘Skipper, we have a bad situation. Kill missiles on geckos, preparing to target the HoG’s flight deck. I need I-X east about nine klicks. Can you break?’
‘We’re on our way.’
‘Hurry. They’re close and loaded with forty cals. Tough lizards.’
Max checked the sensory trails. The enemy geckos were about fifteen klicks from their target, moving fast and in formation. There was a way into them avoiding the forty cals’ firing arcs but it would mean high-risk flying, low to the ground, particularly with the gusting uneven winds over the dunes.
‘I-X, Val-X, orders orders. Break, break, new heading, zero nine zero. Ignore any company you bring. Fly hard in chevrons. Ground targets await. ValX out.’
‘Thanks, Skipper,’ said Max as he felt the warmth of his family, a warmth to which Martha reacted with gentle pleasure. ‘From what I could see, their payload is quads of short-range missiles. Meyer says they were tagged for chem or bio.’
‘Copy that, Max.’ She paused. ‘I’ve got to call it in. They need to get defence hardware to the ramp.’
‘Understood.’
‘Max?’
‘Yes, Skipper?’
‘Did you Fall?’
‘I think so,’ said Max and he felt no fear. ‘It all feels different anyhow. Better.’
‘Good that you’re not insane or dead.’
‘Both are positives.’ A chill thought struck him. ‘How’s Risa? Is she flying with you?’
‘Negative, Max. She’s in Landfill.’
‘Fuck,’ spat Max and Martha responded with a deep grumble in her throat. ‘They have to let her Fall.’
‘Let’s win t
his fight first, Hal-X.’
‘Copy that.’ Max focused back on the geckos, each of them trying to kill Risa and Grim and everyone else stuck on board.
That’s not happening. They moved into a tight turn and lined up on the hind-most target. Max kept his counsel while the squad chat filled his ears, bringing them one step closer to being back with their family. But he dared not dream of life back on board. Not yet.
‘C-Three clear,’ said Stepanek. ‘We’re bringing a few friends.’
‘Copy that, C-Three,’ said Valera. ‘C-Two, status?’
‘We’re low at two hundred,’ said Monteith. ‘Three bogeys on our tail.’
‘Understood, Mont-X.’ Valera was silent for a few moments and Max had time to imagine Stepanek’s and Monts’ faces. ‘I- X, I’m calling this in to Flight Com on open com. Listen in and stay calm.’
Max tensed, wondering what she would disclose and began a steep descent. They were still five klicks adrift of their target meaning Max could focus on the com for a while. It was worth every moment.
‘Flight Com, Val-X, do you copy?’
‘Confirmed, Val-X. Thanks for passing Meyer on to us. No joy yet,’ said Moeller.
‘I can help, sir. Captain Meyer has identified six missile- carrying geckos heading for the Heart. We believe them to be kill missiles, repeat kill missiles. Inferno-X is heading due east in pursuit. We will overfly you shortly, and have company. Please assist.’
‘Copy Val-X. We cannot assist. All defensive capabilities are compromised.’ There was a short pause. ‘Confirm threat and contact with Meyer.’
‘Six missile-carrying geckos closing on the Heart of Granite, specifically the flight deck. I have had no direct contact with Captain Meyer, sir.’
Max heard a definite click as the com cut out for a few moments.
‘Please advise the intel source, ValX.’
‘Copy that, sir. Intel is credible. Call sign Hal-X spoke with Meyer.’
Pause. ‘Say again, Val-X.’
‘Call sign Hal-X, sir.’
Chapter 38
Losing a pilot is the hardest thing. Even when you know the Fall would kill them anyway, it feels like personal failure. But losing Max was the worst. The moment he left my flight deck I was certain I would never see him again. His blood was on my hands.
Flight Commander Gerhard Moeller
Alexandra Solomon heard the words echo out of the speaker in Moeller’s office and they were followed by her worst nightmare made real. Halloran. Not just alive but still flying and in the thick of the action. Out of her control, out of anyone’s control.
Outside the office, the news spread through Flight Command like a frag missile detonation. There was a collective gasp followed by cheers and laughter and the buzz of excited conversation. Moeller, who was vainly attempting to suppress his delight, barked an order for calm and closed the door.
Solomon looked at Avery and Kirby, wanting their expressions to mirror her own but neither came close. Avery’s face held an air of healthy scepticism but her eyes betrayed her satisfaction. And Kirby’s eyes were glinting as if he was calculating the value of the gift that had dropped into his lap. But his face held neither hate nor fear. Idiot.
‘Suggest you move hardware to the ramp, sir,’ came Valera’s voice, and Moeller tapped his p-palm, killing the feed to the control room if the disappointed faces turned their way were any guide. ‘We’ll do what we can, but they are heavily defended. You should prepare.’
‘Copy, Val-X. Continue intercept. Flight Com out.’
Orin’s com went quiet, leaving the other squadron leader feeds piping in. InfernoX’s sudden departure had shifted the battle dynamic. Maf and HoG drakes were streaming back towards the disabled behemoth, fighting as they came.
‘This is a fucking calamity,’ said Solomon. ‘Get Rosenbach. She can’t bring the main com feedback online until I give the order. I want this locked down tighter than a basilisk’s arse.’
Avery stared at her and she was surprised by the contempt on the commander’s face.
‘By a stroke of the most astonishing fortune and due to the courage of one marine, we know about a mortal threat to the Heart, and your primary concern is with PR?’
‘You only think of the now. I always look to the future.’
‘There won’t bea future if we don’t focus on the now.’ Avery shook her head and turned to Moeller. ‘Gerhard, get the duty company down to the ramp with the mobile missiles and the mounted heavy cals. Task all squads to support I-X and keep the Mafs away from them. Nothing else matters.’
Moeller smiled and began snapping out orders. Avery brought up his p-palm and tapped the small screen in the top left-hand corner.
‘Helena, it’s Avery. We’ve got incoming, ground and air. I need flank guns and I need forty cal. Never mind the missiles. Tell me there’s progress.’
‘Of course there’s progress but it can’t be rushed.’
‘This has to be,’ said Avery. ‘The ramp is exposed.’
‘I hear you.’
‘Thank you.’
Solomon turned away and waved Kirby over to her. She saw both Moeller and Avery clock them.
‘We have to manage this very carefully,’ she said. ‘Corsini has been very specific about the consequences of Halloran’s return.’
‘And what if he performs exceptionally? What if he swings the battle in our favour? A way to win the war will have dropped into our laps.’
Solomon moved Kirby firmly out onto the balcony.
‘Are you out of your mind? If it gets out that even one pilot survives the Fall and comes back changed, everything we’re planning for is gone. Corsini loses the election, probably his life. The war ends. All contracts are void. We’ll come away with nothing but the clothes on our backs and, if anything links us to this, not even those.’
Kirby nodded and there was an infuriating confidence in his expression. ‘I understand all that. But with respect, you aren’t thinking this through. Everyone involved in the Fall programme is on board. We welcome Max back here, Markov takes him for testing and reports that he is not a victim of the Fall. Therefore his survival poses questions about whether the common symptoms are really a prelude to the Fall or just an illness borne of too much flying. Who is going to know? Who can challenge Markov on professional or intellectual grounds?’
Solomon saw the ragged ghost of a way out and she exhaled the breath she had been holding. ‘Plausible deniability.’
Kirby shrugged. ‘Absolutely. Want me to brief Markov?’
‘Do it. But pick your moment. Let’s see how this fight plays out – Avery’s right, it could all be rendered irrelevant. Max might die out there. But if Halloran makes it back on board, remember I’m not the only one Corsini will have spoken to. That pilot will have a target on his back.’
The ground was so close Max felt like he could touch it and it thrilled him. They were flying no more than five metres from the undulating desert terrain and often less than two, body ramrod straight, wings twitching more subtly than they ever could have managed before. She had deployed her second wings, ones the ERC had always thought useless, vestigial; a component of the alien DNA they had not identified. They were small, almost like a deployable tail-plane, mounted just above her hips and it turned out they provided critical stability.
The gecko’s jockey knew he was being pursued. His forty cals were trained as far round as they could go and were peppering the air to either side of them but they didn’t have the angle to get a hit. They were a hundred metres astern and closing fast.
They powered in. With a flick of wings and tail, they bumped up over the gecko’s back and flamed out, the blue-hot beams of fire tearing into flesh, bone and missile housing, finally skewering the lizard’s head before angling upwards almost vertically, wings beating hard to propel them away fast from enemy gunfire, twisting and curving all the way.
The gecko’s missiles exploded, solid fuel detonating, obliterating the lizard, its joc
key and spewing blood and body fragments across the sand.
‘I-X, HalX, one down, repeat one down.’
‘Good job, Hal -X!’ shouted Monteith. ‘So good to hear you, man. Babysitting your chevron, want ’em back?’
The com was filled with the shouts of welcome and warmth of the return to the fold. Max felt wonderful . . . they felt wonderful. Martha barked her delight and they came about to join the squad flying in over the HoG.
‘Later, Monts. Skipper, may I?’
‘Be my guest, Hal-X.’
The geckos ahead were frighteningly close to a first potential firing position, only about eight klicks out now. That meant ten minutes to target zone plus however long it took them to prep the missiles. Not long, probably. Further west, he could see the mass of drakes moving closer. It was going to get very messy very quickly. Max leant into the sensory map and reported on what he saw.
‘I-X, you have twenty-three drakes in pursuit, steady at a thousand behind for now. Five enemy carriers below. Forty cal flank defence, approximate one-six-five degree angle of fire. Your approach has got to be tight front or back and very, very low, five metres and less. Call it, Skipper.’
‘How the hell are you clocking all the action?’ asked Stepanek.
‘New trick, buddy. Tell you later.’
‘Thank you, Hal-X,’ said Valera, as Inferno-X swept over the HoG and into the skirmish zone. Her guns remained still, the missiles locked out. ‘With five targets, we’ll take the rear three then the forward pair. Hal-X, take centre. Step-X, take right with Pal-X and GarX. I’ll take left with Xav-X and NevX. C-Two, split for attack on the forward pair, attack on my go. The rest of you, spot for us and keep the Mafs off our backs.’
Max moved into his attack position. Martha called out, a new sound, a pulsing bark from the back of her throat, flat toned and piercing. The other drakes responded, mimicking her call.
‘Holy Mother, Max, did you do that?’ asked Redfearn.
‘It was all Martha. I think she’s happy to be home. So am I. Right gang, we’ve got to get this right. Follow our lead, we’ll be groundhugging, so be careful. Let’s go.’
Heart of Granite Page 36
