Day of the Damned dh-2

by David Gunn

  ‘Not likely,’ he says. ‘With you around.’

  Stupid bastard means it. Leaving Anton to his fortune, I push forward until I reach Neen’s side.

  ‘Copters,’ he says.

  The first we’ve seen since this began.

  Three black wasps hang over the river bank, door gunners hanging from open hatches, their long-magazine Kemzins tied with bungee cords to the sills above. One of the copters has an underslung thermal scanner sweeping the roofs. When three wasps become five, I know it’s serious.

  ‘Jaxx,’ says Neen, flicking frequencies. ‘They’ve got him cornered.’

  ‘Vijay?’ I say.

  Neen looks surprised at my question.

  I know it’s Vijay. What interests me is Neen calling him Jaxx.

  The beginning of an idea is stirring. It’s an insane idea. All my best ones are, but this is a long-term idea, a big idea . . .

  Never had one of those before.

  I’ll tell the others later. If there is a later, because my idea depends on us getting out of this alive. And it’s not even a starter unless we can get Colonel Vijay out of this alive as well . . .

  A hand signal stops my team where they stand. Civilians push around us, irritated we’re in their way. The first man to voice his opinion gets punched to the ground by Rachel. The man goes down and stays down. They’re better behaved after that.

  My second signal says close up.

  When I’m certain we’re gathered, armed and ready for anything likely to happen, I pass control to Neen, tell them to stay close and begin pushing my way towards a side street leading to the river’s edge.

  Shil wants to know why I’ve given her brother operational control. It shows in her face. I surprise myself by telling her.

  ‘Going to let the kyp feed.’

  Her eyes widen. Shil knows how I feel about that.

  Static, fever, a sourness in my throat. The side effects of feeding the kyp follow the same pattern every time. Going to do it all the same.

  ‘Almost there,’ Leona says.

  The others think she’s talking about the river.

  Hidden pipes and buried pumping stations form a ghostly overlay in front of me as Farlight’s AI comes on line. Looking deeper reveals electric substations and underground walkways.

  A maze of tunnels ends at a filter house so old its filters are clogged with a century’s worth of waste. No way into the houses in front of us, though.

  ‘Earth to Sven,’ the gun says. ‘Anyone home?’

  ‘The system is up. But OctoV has gone.’

  ‘Sven,’ it says, ‘that’s impossible.’

  It isn’t. I have no sense of our glorious leader’s presence. The information is waiting, overlaid and organized, but there are no thoughts behind it. No one watches while the last of the data unravels itself for me. And the kyp in my throat is almost well behaved, which is proof enough – barely a roil of its exoskeleton or an aftertaste of static.

  Won’t last, of course.

  The Uplifted will take over. For all the U/Free guarantee our freedoms, and our new leader Prince Thomassi promises life will get better . . . The Enlightened will want our lands, our trade routes, our data havens.

  Well, not my lands, routes and data, obviously. Because I own fuck all of fuck all. Unless you include Golden Memories, and we own that between us, and something says we won’t be seeing it again for a while anyway.

  ‘Your choice,’ Leona says.

  She’s talking to me, has to be. Since I’m the one she’s looking at.

  ‘Sergeant,’ Neen warns.

  When the SIG suggests we let her speak Leona nods, a little too gratefully. My glare warns her to behave. ‘I don’t imagine,’ I say, ‘Prince Thomassi will be kind to his prisoners.’

  She scowls. Maybe at my use of prince. Mostly likely at the threat. Neen’s scowling for a different reason. He doesn’t know what is going on.

  ‘Leona’s precog.’

  ‘Like Iona?’

  ‘Different skill set.’

  Neen doesn’t like that idea.

  That is fine, because I don’t like it either. In fact, if Leona turns out to be a problem I’ll kill her. She’s only a temporary manifestation of our glorious leader, after all. An avatar. The word finds its way into my mind.

  It’s not like she’s the real thing.

  ‘Actually,’ she says, ‘it’s exactly like.’

  ‘In your dreams.’

  I’ve talked with OctoV, felt the power of his mind as it turned from a million problems on a thousand different battle fronts, to concentrate on the tiny irritation I represented the first time we met.

  ‘Sven,’ says Leona. ‘Think bigger.’

  ‘You call him sir,’ Neen snaps, stepping forward.

  Leona looks at him, then nods. This time she means it. After a long scowl to make sure she knows he’s the senior sergeant round here, he steps back.

  ‘We’ll talk later,’ I tell Leona.

  That sounds enough of a threat to satisfy Neen.

  Chapter 39

  A copter hangs directly over the houses we’re approaching. Most of the crowd are busy pointing at the roof of the one in the middle, where a single figure edges along a balustrade, before dropping from sight.

  A second later, he reappears.

  There’s no balustrade on this house to protect him from falling. Just a drop to the road and his audience below. Half of Farlight has turned out for Colonel Vijay’s last performance. Including the Wolf, who stands scowling in his scout car, surrounded by his men who keep the crowd back.

  ‘Shit,’ Rachel says.

  A low moan, somewhere between upset and excitement, sweeps the crowd as Colonel Vijay begins climbing the tiles towards a roof light and slips slightly. His fingers grab at the tiles, but he can’t get a grip.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ Neen says.

  Doubt he knows he’s said it.

  Tiles come loose as Vijay’s slide gets faster.

  My plan’s fucked. The thought comes as one of his feet clips guttering, which breaks away and begins to fall. He’s going over the edge, when his other foot hits the bracket that held the guttering in place and his slide stops.

  The crowd sighs.

  Very slowly, Colonel Vijay reaches for a handhold and restarts his climb.

  ‘Well,’ says the SIG, ‘that was exciting . . .’ Telling me to watch the Wolf, it blips a laser dot on his helmet and removes it just as quickly. ‘Ninety-nine yards, one foot, eight inches,’ it says. ‘Barely worth aiming.’

  General Luc is now smiling. So I imagine his earlier scowl was at the thought of not being able to slaughter Vijay Jaxx himself.

  ‘One shot,’ the SIG says. ‘How hard can it be?’

  ‘That’s not why we’re here.’

  ‘Kill Luc. Save Vijay.’

  ‘Enough . . .’

  ‘Just saying.’

  ‘Well don’t, all right?’

  ‘You know,’ it snarls, ‘I think I preferred Aptitude.’

  As we watch, Colonel Vijay claws his way to the roof light, and punches out the glass. Even at this distance we hear it shatter, before we see him roll over the window’s lip and disappear into an attic below.

  The colonel must know he is trapped. I’m not sure what he found downloading those data cores of Morgan’s . . . May the bastard sleep badly and have a hideous life next time. But it’s got the plotters riled. Unless this really is just about killing Indigo Jaxx’s son.

  One of the copters watches the front.

  Another watches the river behind, while a third locks off the far end of the embankment and a fourth locks off the nearer end. A fifth wasp hangs right overhead. That one flies the pennant of Sebastian Thomassi from its tail.

  Now is when we need the anti-tank rifle I wanted earlier.

  The crowd knows Vijay Jaxx is cornered. Pushing and shoving, they jostle for a better position, hoping to get close to the steps leading to the house where he’s taken refuge. It’s lik
e watching water come to the boil. Everyone is waiting for a sign. It comes when a man climbs the steps and turns to bless us.

  The Archbishop of Farlight.

  As one, the crowd bow their heads.

  Every single word that man says is a lie.

  I refuse to believe this dawn is glorious, that the collection of whores, looters, pickpockets and rapists around me is anyone’s army for freedom, or that those who follow Sebastian Thomassi are doing God’s will.

  Bullshit, the lot of it.

  The person behind Augustus, Archbishop of Farlight, convinces me of that. And if he wasn’t proof enough, the U/Free next to him is.

  The last time I saw her, Emerald Schott was wearing a dress made from slashed red silk. More slashes than silk. Certainly enough to show her breasts, all four of them . . . It was at a party in Letogratz. Tonight she’s wearing something simpler.

  Black, low-cut, but almost decent.

  Next to Paper Osamu’s mother-in-law stands Federico fucking Van fucking Zill, wearing a suit, dark glasses and a smirk.

  ‘Sir,’ Neen says.

  He’s waiting for orders.

  ‘Nothing we can do,’ Anton says. ‘Vijay knows that. He wouldn’t want you to sacrifice the Aux. We’ve still got time to get away.’

  Anton is right. If we walk now, we can make it out of the crowd while the Wolf’s attention is still on Colonel Vijay. But then, if I mug him, the rest of us can change our faces and names and live out our lives in luxury.

  I’d no more do that than desert.

  Besides, I gave Aptitude my word.

  ‘We’re probably going to die here.’ Don’t imagine I’m telling them anything they haven’t worked out for themselves. ‘Anyone who wants out, step back now.’

  No one moves.

  Not even Iona, who’s sobbing.

  If at first you don’t succeed, destroy the evidence that you tried.

  When the crowd get bored trying to pry-bar their way into the house where Colonel Vijay is trapped, someone drops the bar down a drain and sends for explosives. That’s what a woman in front of us says. She’s heard it from a man in front of her.

  ‘Must be true then.’

  There’s a sourness to Neen’s voice that makes her look away.

  ‘Explosives coming through.’

  My gun begins its chant and those nearest us suddenly decide we must be the ones bringing the means to blow down that door. They part willingly.

  ‘SIG . . .’

  ‘Just trying to do my bit.’

  As the four-breasted U/Free mutters anxiously to Van Zill, the Archbishop of Farlight stares at the disturbance we’re causing, obviously wondering what’s going on. Pretty soon, General Luc is going to stop looking hungrily at that door and start wondering what’s going on as well.

  Happens sooner than I’d like.

  A shout goes up that the explosives are coming. And it’s enough to attract the Wolf’s attention.

  ‘Fuck,’ Anton says.

  The SIG shivers in my grip.

  Yeah, I know. We’ve been seen.

  On the far side of the crowd, General Luc snaps out an order and his men start to move. They head for the steps. Same as we do. The Wolf follows, seemingly oblivious of those who scatter to avoid being crushed by his wheels.

  Fifty paces from the steps, Luc realizes we’re going to get there first.

  He mutters an order to the man jogging beside his vehicle, and Sergeant Toro snaps out an order of his own. A second later, the sergeant and a splinter group cut free from the Wolf Brigade and start pushing towards us.

  ‘Two o’clock.’

  ‘Seen them,’ I tell the SIG. ‘Keep scanning.’

  And then something happens that changes it all.

  The crowd don’t realize at first. Because half are watching us, and the rest are watching General Luc or his splinter group. But inside the house someone slams back heavy bolts and the door begins to open.

  ‘Fuck,’ says the SIG.

  Hard to disagree.

  Stamping onto the top step, Colonel Vijay clips down his boots as if he’s on parade. Only then does he lift the hand hanging at his side. His opening shot drills Emerald Schott through the head.

  So fast and clean is it she remains standing for a second, with a neat hole in one side of her skull and a bigger hole in the other. The Archbishop of Farlight is wiping his face frantically. He’s wearing most of her brains.

  Colonel Vijay’s second shot kills Van Zill.

  Personally, I’d have taken the archbishop before that scumbag, but it’s the colonel’s call. I think he’s forgotten about Emerald’s implant.

  Not a bit of it.

  Rolling her over, he drops to one knee and puts his gun to the back of her skull. His next shot blows the implant apart. Killing a U/Free and destroying her memories. Vijay Jaxx just made himself a galactic outcast.

  ‘Interesting move.’

  Even the SIG sounds impressed.

  ‘Sven,’ Colonel Vijay says. ‘Thought I told you to get out of here?’

  Now the crowd know we’re not bringing explosives. I’m about to say, Did you, sir? when three things happen at once.

  The first militia officer to raise his rifle goes down with a broken knee and a blade in his shoulder. Ajac’s looking shocked, but then it’s his blade and he forgot to keep hold of it. So now it juts from the screaming officer.

  Ajac catches the spare Iona throws.

  The archbishop begins to back away. That’s the second. The third is that General Luc arrives just as Colonel Vijay points his gun at the archbishop.

  ‘Don’t,’ the Wolf says.

  This is a man used to being obeyed.

  And Colonel Vijay does obey. Nodding, he lowers his weapon and the crowd surge forward. Actually, four things happen.

  If not five.

  ‘No one will touch Jaxx,’ the Wolf announces. To back it up, his corporal turns his machine gun to cover the crowd.

  ‘My son-’ the archbishop says.

  A second later he’s reeling down the steps into the increasingly puzzled crowd. General Luc having just slammed his elbow into the archbishop’s head. The final thing is that my gun shivers to let me know Luc’s splinter group are behind us.

  Not that I’m bothered.

  We’re Aux. We don’t retreat anyway.

  ‘Flechette,’ I say, then change my mind. ‘Make that incendiary.’

  The SIG-37 whirs as it does what it’s told. A diode lights to say it’s loaded and a little red dot appears between General Luc’s eyes. When he twitches, I know the SIG’s made the dot hot this time.

  It likes doing that.

  ‘Earth to Sven,’ my gun says.

  ‘Sir,’ I say. ‘Stand away.’ I mean Colonel Vijay, obviously. ‘And you,’ I tell the Wolf. ‘Stand your men down.’

  Grey eyes watch me.

  His lip curls beneath his heavy beard.

  And then his gaze flicks behind me and I feel the cold kiss of an automatic to the side of my head. A second later, it jags slightly. So I’m obviously supposed to have done more than simply notice it.

  ‘Drop your piece.’

  Sergeant Toro holds a Colt, with underslung sight, and a clip that juts indecently beneath its handle. But it’s a single clip, with hollow-point at the most.

  There’s no way I’m backing down.

  ‘Covered, sir.’

  Neen has his rifle to Sergeant Toro’s head. Although a Wolf Brigade corporal is pointing a rifle at him. I try to see who’s targeting the corporal. Only, I don’t want to turn my head that much.

  ‘Got him covered,’ Anton says.

  I do the maths. Luc dies, I die, their sergeant dies, Neen dies, their corporal dies, Anton dies . . . Would help if I knew how many Wolf Brigade are behind me. Iona and Rachel, definitely dead.

  Maybe Ajac.

  The question is whether Vijay can be saved.

  Back when I joined the Legion my old lieutenant tried to teach me chess. Goo
d players take and lose as few pieces as possible. Until they’re ready to roll up the opposition. Drunk or sober, but usually drunk, he’d win, no matter how many pieces he gave me first.

  He played the long game.

  I killed the first pawn to offer itself.

  Looking round, it occurs to me I’ve improved. Maybe not by enough, though. Since my instinct is to pull the trigger. Don’t want to get this wrong.

  ‘Sir,’ says Neen. ‘How are we going to play this?’

  Ignoring the weapons completely, someone slides through the crowd and stops at my side. ‘The long game’s waiting,’ Leona whispers. ‘If you want it.’

  Chapter 40

  We Need General Luc for the long game. Leona will explain why later. Although I’m supposed to know already. The fact he’s commander of the Wolf Brigade, the private guard of Farlight’s emperor, should tell me. It doesn’t.

  ‘But OctoV’s dead.’

  She pouts.

  ‘You said you felt him die.’

  ‘Yes and no,’ she whispers, before telling me it’s unimportant. I should concentrate, in the short term, on not getting killed.

  The Wolf is watching me.

  Still wearing that red dot between his eyes.

  Sergeant Toro has his side arm to the side of my head. Even Colonel Vijay looks bemused not to be the centre of attention. But I’m not sure I’m going to let this go, so I hiss another question at her instead.

  ‘If our glorious leader is dead then General Luc is out of a job, right? You can’t command the emperor’s guard if there isn’t an emperor.’

  ‘You’re all out of a job.’

  That thought shocks me. Colonel Vijay as commander of a reborn Third Regiment is the heart of my plan. Only, the Wolf wants the colonel as well. He wants to wrap his heart in a bow and give it to Aptitude on a plate.

  So there is no long game.

  Killing General Luc is the right move.

  ‘About fucking time,’ says the SIG-37, when my finger tightens on the trigger. ‘Hate to think you’d lost your nerve.’

  ‘Sven,’ Colonel Vijay sounds clipped. ‘You will lower that damn gun.’

  ‘Sir . . .’

  There’s a sudden flare of interest in the Wolf’s grey eyes as he watches me wonder whether to obey.

  ‘I mean it,’ the colonel says. ‘That is a direct order.’