Below, the gecko was readying. Missiles were lifting on their beds. Around it, the evidence of their failed attacks was a grim reminder of the ultimate sacrifice drake pilots had made to save the Heart. Max was prepared to join them. Anything to save Mother. They shot past two Maf drakes trying to block them. They rolled their body right then left, reducing potentially damaging impacts to glancing blows. They held their course. Fifty metres.
They could see the missiles clearly now and the jockey in his shell just forward of them. They toyed briefly with the idea of fire but it would have been suicide. Instead they tipped their wings out and back to slow them and their body swept down. Their rear legs shot out from under her and their talons slammed into the gecko’s back, missiles and all, and with a beat of her wings, pulled it over on to its side and back.
They let the broken body go, took two beats back and toasted its under-side. They watched flames take hold. It was done. The jock could fire missiles all he wanted. They’d drill down into the sand and pulverise him on detonation.
Bright light flooded his vision.
‘Missile launch, we have a missile launch.’ Valera’s voice was horribly calm. ‘Confirm tracking towards the ramp. Entry in thirty seconds.’
Thirty. They had enough time. Just.
Martha roared and they twisted into a tight upward left-hand turn. They could see the missile flares to their right and calculated their trajectory. They beat their wings hard, trimmed their body for pace and made for the swiftly closing gap.
I’m on it.’ Gurney’s voice was a sudden intrusion into Max’s plans.
‘Where are you?’
‘Close enough. Calder and Redfearn are making a pass. I’m backup.’
Max spotted him on the organic map flying in from the north east and a little too far away.
‘Negative, Gurns. It’s too tight. I’m faster.’
‘Between us we’ll stop them.’
Still flying hard, Max and Martha watched Calder and Redfearn head in. The Maf drakes were standing off, circling high, waiting to call the hits. The two Inferno drakes shot across the line of the incoming missiles, dropping a dozen and more balls of electricity in their wake. Max held his breath. Two missiles chased the chaff, detonating in mid-air.
‘Two flying,’ said Valera.
Max could see gun fire from the ramp. ‘They have to cease fire. Gur-X, we can take one each. Maintain course, increase speed if you can.’
‘Copy that, Hal-X,’ said Gurney.
‘Good luck, buddy.’
‘You too, freak.’
‘Funny.’
They forced more beats from their wings. The smoke trail of the solid fuel rocket was mesmerising as it arced its path to the HoG. Ahead, Gurney was coming in on a perfect vector, his signature lit up by the electricity building in his drake’s body as he prepared to release his chaff.
This has to work. This has to work.
Ten seconds. Five. Gurney shot across the bow of his missile, dumping multiple chaff balls that glared, fizzed and spat, confusing the missile — which deviated immediately, chasing away down to its doom.
Our turn.
Max felt a massive impact from below. They were shunted up and right by a Maf drake battering into them having emerged from the confusing mass of signatures all around them.
‘Shit!’
They released their chaff but they were too high, too wide. Dan Gurney saw it happen, twitched his drake down a fraction and caught the remaining missile square in the pouch. The detonation showered fragments of drake and pilot across Max’s vision, which misted with tears for his friend that he couldn’t wipe away.
‘Avery, Rosenbach. You have everything on manual.’ ‘Confirmed, Eleanor. Your timing is impeccable.’
‘All squads, Flight Com. Fly low, fly low. Tuck into the legs. Manual firing solution available and we cannot discriminate between Mafs and friendlies. Clear below fifty immediately.’
Confirmations rolled in as drakes flooded below the kill line, their abrupt break from combat catching all but the quickest-minded enemies on the hop.
‘Flight Com copies all. Firing solution enabled in three, two, one . .. guns guns guns.’
It was the most incredibly beautiful, comforting sound. The blatter and blast of flank machine guns and forty cals filling the air with a dreadful density of lead, depleted uranium and armour-piercing mercury-centred rounds. It was the steady beat of hell’s drums. The discordant echoes of drakes caught in the fire or shrieking warnings completed the ensemble.
The HoG’s drakes gathered in tight formation astern below the partially wound-up tail or flew beneath her belly— a unique opportunity with the ramp jammed half-open. Maf drakes streaked by, heading west to the Maputo, or scattered high, trying to get out of range. Max and Martha could hear the agonised cries of those caught in the gunfire.
Drakes were destroyed on the wing. Forty cals ripped great lumps out of flesh or blew holes in skulls, flank guns tattooed wings and broke neck vertebrae. Bodies, dead and dying, fell from the sky, thumping to the sand to lie still or crawl away weakly in search of sanctuary. Wherever they could, the flank guns finished them off.
Their gambit had failed and the Maf drakes scattered back towards the Maputo, leaving carcasses littering the ground. And when the guns finally fell silent, Max heard the words he thought he’d longed for since the moment he’d flown out.
‘All squadrons, Flight Com. Come on in. We’ll see if we can get some lights on for you.’
But Martha growled and Max felt his mind flood with fury. They stormed back high into the dusty sky and turned towards the Maputo and the retreating drakes. For what they had already done to Mother, and what they had wanted to do, they would pay. All of them.
The sensory map showed him hundreds of signatures in the sky and on the ground. An overwhelming number but his mind was full of the imagery of enemy drakes dropping from the sky one by one; and of ground units burning, drake fire immolating their sorry bodies, their screams brief and terrible.
More signatures closed on him from the rear. Some he could pick out and name. Inferno-X was in his slipstream.
‘Hal-X, ValX, what’s going on?’
‘We want revenge,’ said Max. ‘We’re going after them.’
‘Negative, Hal-X. Turn around and we’ll see you home safe.’
‘It’s not that simple. We have to take her down now. Make them suffer.’ Max felt some of their anger turn towards the HoG’s exec. ‘Why haven’t they ordered an attack on the Maputo?’
‘Well, besides the fact that the HoG is paralysed and we cannot deploy ground forces to counter the considerable number of enemy grunts already out there setting up their defence nets, latest wisdom is that the Maputo was not as sick as she made out a few days ago.’
‘She’s just walked through a sand storm,’ said Max. ‘This is the best chance we’ll ever have.’
‘Turn around, Hal-X,’ said Valera. ‘That’s an order.’
‘Val-X, Flight Com, control your squadron. You will bring them in immediately.’
‘Copy, Flight Com. I’m on it.’
‘Come on, Max.’ It was Monteith. ‘We want you back in the squad rack, man.’
‘Yeah, Max, we’ve missed you, buddy,’ said Calder.
‘Even I’ve missed seeing your sorry arse,’ said Stepanek.
‘Max,’ said Valera, her voice low. ‘They’ll declare you rogue and you know what that means. Come home. Trust me, trust the squad.’
‘Once I-X, always IX,’ said Redfearn.
Max’s heart was thumping. They were flying hard, gaining on the Maf drakes. The Maputo lay ahead, skin covered in sand, waiting. Their consciousness flooded with images and feelings of Mother, home and peace . . . the squad would protect them, they would get fixed, they would get food . . . but the Maputo was walking away unmolested, her drakes safe in her belly, waiting their chance . . . and Max was back in Landfill.
‘Come on, Max, save yourselves for anoth
er day,’ said Valera.
‘They’ll throw me away. Back into Landfill.’
‘It’s too late for that, don’t you think?’
‘They can’t let me live, not like I am now. Can they?’
‘They’ll have to get through I-X first, Max. Turn around before you drop out of the sky. Look at you. You’re a mess.’
And the fact was, they were exhausted. They were starving and they were bleeding, weakening with every wing beat.
They flew on for a few seconds before roaring their defiance at the enemy and breathing a long blast of fire into the dustfilled sky. Max watched the particles ignite; embers falling from the heavens. They turned for home and felt the relief wash over them from the drakes watching over them.
‘HalX, Flight Com, confirm status.’
‘All good, Flight Com. Heading home as ordered.’
‘Confirm you are in control, Hal-X.’
‘Confirmed,’ said Max. Martha grumbled. ‘It’s just words, princess.’
‘Say again?’ asked Moeller.
‘Nothing,’ said Max.
‘Form up and await clearance to land, InfernoX,’ said Moeller. ‘Good shift today, congratulations. Gurney is a hero. Xavier too. And you should know we’ve identified the missile agent as a human nerve toxin. They were trying to clean us out and leave the HoG for boarding. We got lucky today. Thank you. Flight Com out.’
Chapter 40
It’s a terrible thing to have to consider the mortality of your behemoth. But the fact is that The Heart of Granite came the closest of any behemoth to fall in the course of this ridiculous war.
Commander Nicola Avery
Rosenbach’s expletive had echoed around Flight Command in the same instant the guns had fallen silent. Lights had dimmed, fan noise had faded and the few operational systems had snapped off like someone had flicked a switch. Lazily, the back-up batteries had come to life and a faint whirr and hum indicated life systems running at minimum. Moeller and Avery shared a smile.
‘Colourful language, Rosenbach,’ said Avery. ‘What just happened?’
‘Well, you fired all the guns at once.’
‘That is generally accepted practice when under attack.’
‘A few junctions have fried as a result. Is everything down where you are?’
‘Pretty much. We’ve still got coms and drake cam feed through the ppalm network but it’s gloomy down here to say the least. We have emergency lighting on the flight deck so we’re okay for landing.’
‘We’ll be down a while . .. did we chase the Mafs off?’
‘Yes, we did so take your time, do what you need to get my lizard moving again.’
‘Copy that, Commander.’
Avery turned to Moeller. ‘Okay, let’s bring the rest of them home.’
Inferno-X had flown back to the HoG in a small but perfectly formed sphere formation with Max and Martha at its centre. The coms might have been quiet, remembering Dan Gurney and Xavier Descontes, but the flying while they awaited clearance to land was anything but. They stormed back and forth along the Heart of Granite’s spine performing rolls and loops in formation, mostly out of respect for their fallen but also because they weren’t going to miss a chance to show off.
Max felt the excitement mixed with sadness passed to him through the other drakes feeding off the emotions of their pilots. He could see it reflected in their signatures too and he caught himself wondering how much else was still to be revealed to him.
‘Very impressive, Inferno-X,’ said Moeller. ‘But unnecessary. You are clear to come aboard.’
‘Copy, Flight Com,’ said Valera. ‘Sir, you know Meyer and Sidhu are still out there. Is someone picking them up?’
‘Not imminently,’ said Moeller. ‘They are attached to the Maputo’s leg, surrounded by ground forces fifty klicks from here so they’re on their own for now. Meyer’s a resourceful man. They’ll survive till we find a way to get him back.’
Valera led Inferno-X along the spine one final time before heading up to one fifty where they formed a holding ring. They were going to land in chevron order. Max and Martha lined up behind Monteith. They warmed themselves with images of Grim waiting for them and Max chuckled when he overlaid them with those of Anna-Beth and Martha responded with memories of Grim’s loving care that actually made him feel jealous momentarily.
‘All right, I-X, remember it’s a narrow entry on to the flight deck. Keep the tail close above you to give you maximum landing angle. Max, be aware the ramp is only twenty per cent open, the deck is not fully deployed and the tail is at fifty per cent. Nothing you can’t handle, just be aware of eddies and vortices playing around the walls.’
‘Copy, Skipper. We can handle it,’ said Max. ‘Quick one-to-one, Skipper?’
‘Go ahead, but make it snappy.’
‘I want to see Kullani,’ said Max. ‘They can’t keep her in Landfill. Not now.’
‘I hear you, Max. But step lightly. Her drake’s still emptying and they’ve done nothing to her yet. We have time.’
‘Can I speak to Anna-Beth before we land?’
‘Negative, Hal-X. We’re still at work, here.’
‘Then I’ll have to go for the slow motion run to each other on the flight deck when our eyes meet.’
‘Dodging the piles of puke from the unfortunate onlookers on the way.’
‘Lovely image, thanks.’
‘Always a pleasure.’ There was a momentary pause. ‘All right, IX, let’s get inside. Make it good.’
Max watched Inferno-X disappear under the tail, wincing at the tightness of the approach angle and seeing the gusting and eddies affecting balance.
Nothing we can’t handle. Let’s have some fun.
Monteith began his final approach. ‘Hey, Max, I reckon you’ll have quite an audience in there,’ he said.
‘There’d better be.’
They followed Monteith in very close, keeping in his slipstream, her h-wings keeping her perfectly balanced where he wobbled. Just inside the ramp, they flicked up a few metres, barrel-rolled and soared over the landing strip, heading straight for the packed Flight Command gallery.
Max watched people scattering as they closed, delighting at the open mouths and the shock on the faces of senior execs. In the beat before impact became inevitable, they deployed hwings and turned hard right, showing the gallery their belly and the pouch, the downdraft of their wings ruining some smart hair styles. They flicked up into a loop, talons walking across the bone roof of the flight deck before driving down towards the deck, executing a stall, tucking in their wings and dropping gently to the ground right outside their pen..
‘Waaaaaaaa hooooooo!’
Martha roared and barked her pleasure. Max felt the thuds and vibrations of the remainder of Inferno-X coming on board. Safe home. Sort of.
They moment they landed, Grim rushed over, beaming through her tears. They bent their long neck down and Grim leapt up to hug them, stroking Martha’s cheeks. Martha cooed and nuzzled back. Max wallowed in the emotions washing through him, but part of him felt awkward and wanted to leave them to it. This was still just between the two of them.
You’re soft, princess.
He became aware of the weight of attention on them. Ground crew had abandoned their tasks, pilots were hurrying from their drakes, and the gallery was once again bursting with the staff of Flight Command.
Grim stood back to let them come to their seated rest position. Max was brought upright and all he could see was a mass of faces but not yet the one he wanted to see more than anything. Inferno-X was gathering at the front of the crowd and the sight of their faces brought a wonderful feeling across his body. Just to the right stood Moeller, Kirby, Avery, Markov and Solomon, stern expressions had replaced the shock. There were a couple of dozen Mips there too, some turning zapons over in their hands.
‘That was some flying, Halloran,’ said Moeller over the open com. ‘Not sure it’ll make the recommended landing protocol though.’
<
br /> ‘You’re a damned liability,’ said Solomon.
‘And you’re some welcoming committee,’ said Max. ‘Thanks for turning out.’
‘Just come on out, Max,’ said Moeller.
‘Yes, sir.’
It was then Max caught sight of Anna-Beth and his heart flipped right over. She’d dragged her hood off her head but her suit showed off every line of her extraordinary body yet it was her face he wanted to drink in. But she hardly dared look up at the pouch, her eyes were darting all over and she stood a fair way back, not quite lost in the crowd but not wanting to be too far forward either. Yet she remained the most wonderful sight, hair slick with sweat and lubricant, face red with heat and her mouth . . . oh how he wanted to kiss that mouth.
The pouch released and Martha withdrew from every pierce point making Max gasp.
Wow, that feels weird. Cold too, princess. Very cold.
Max levered himself out and slid down Martha’s chest in a brief flood of lubricant. For a moment looked back at Martha, feeling utterly lost. He almost climbed straight back in the pouch and had to force himself to turn away. He started to run across the flight deck towards Anna-Beth, the flapping remnants of his ruined suit providing him with little more than basic modesty. But two days in the pouch took their revenge and he stumbled repeatedly, almost falling; his stiff, aching, fatigued muscles betraying him. He slowed to an uncomfortable trot, wanting nothing more than to sag to the floor.
Anna-Beth began fighting her way through the crowd, which moved for her as realisation spread, while both Valera and Moeller gestured to stop anyone interfering. Max suppressed a laugh as Valera’s words repeated in his head and it might well have been like watching the end of a horrible slushy vid but he just didn’t care.
He could feel Martha’s disapproval, though it wasn’t as intense as within the pouch and he pushed it back with feelings of warmth. Max almost broke down as he and Anna-Beth met, heaving in a breath when they touched and he felt the embrace he’d thought he’d never enjoy again. Anna-Beth clutched him hard and he felt her fingers brush against, ignore and then begin to probe the pierce points on his neck and down his back.
Heart of Granite Page 38
