‘Ry, stay where you are,’ Paula said. ‘I’m coming over.’
‘Me too,’ Kysandra said. ‘You might need some backup.’
‘I’m coming too,’ Florian said.
Ry told his u-shadow to switch on his infra-red function, changing the world to weird false-colour petals. The air drifting along the cliff was a couple of degrees higher than anywhere else. He got back on the quad-kart and began driving towards it.
‘Ry,’ Paula said. ‘What are you doing? I told you to stay where you are.’
‘I just need to get a bit closer. There’s some kind of odd thermal activity around the cliff.’
‘Okay, but just stop and observe from where you are, please.’
Ry braked the quad-kart resentfully. I’m an astronaut. Venturing into the unknown is why I exist. Why can’t she just let me get on with it? He had a sudden depressing thought that the Commonwealth, for all its magnificent achievements and power, was run by timid bureaucrats, unable to justify any risk. Another thought was fast behind: Uracus, I left my maser rifle back in the dome. Because Macule was a dead world; everybody knew that. Right?
His retinas zoomed in on the cliff. ‘I can see some caves. I think the warm air is venting out of them.’
‘Do the tracks lead to the caves?’ Paula asked.
‘I can’t tell. There’s a big shelf of naked rock along the base of the cliff.’ Ry peered forwards as the gusts of hot air from one of the cave mouths became warmer and denser, its velocity increased in tandem. ‘There’s some kind of pressure surge from one of the caves.’
‘You mean something’s forcing the air out?’ Paula asked. ‘That’s only going to happen if—’
‘Oh crud!’ Ry grunted. A hemisphere of dull metal, an easy four metres in diameter, was rising out of the cave. That was just the head of a ten-metre-long cylinder which rode on stumpy triangular undercarriage mechanisms – three down each side. They had five fat metal wheels apiece, which rolled over the stone with loud grating sounds. The first cylindrical section was connected to a second via a complicated-looking articulated junction. A third section followed.
Ry turned the quad-kart round in a tight circle. By the time he was pointing back at the domes, all five sections of the machine had emerged. The rear two cylinders were ribbed by tarnished silver pipes that glowed brightly in infra-red. His suit sensors detected a worrying amount of radiation squirting out of the metal. Hatches on the forward hemisphere clanged back, and small elaborate instruments telescoped out, cogs and heavy-duty chains whirring round to propel their sliding rails. Many components on their tips spun up or began scanning back and forth. Ry didn’t think they were weapons. A fan of green laserlight swept over him.
‘Get out of there!’ Paula said.
‘Already gone.’ Ry ordered the quad-kart wheels to accelerate hard. He took off over the gently undulating desert, the deep tread on the tyres kicking up plumes of icy sand.
Behind him, the five segments of the Macule machine paused. Latches snapped up on all of its triangular undercarriage mechanisms. High-pressure hoses trembled and pistons whined with mechanical strain. The triangles rotated, moving the five-wheel base off the ground so twin caterpillar-track segments slapped down. The locking latches slammed round. Ry’s sensors informed him the track segments measured seventy-five centimetres long, ten wide.
‘I don’t think that was good,’ Florian said.
‘No crudding kidding,’ Ry snarled. The quad-kart had reached thirty kph, and it was taking a lot of concentration to steer round the medium-sized rocks. His force field was already on at full strength.
He heard a great many engines start whining. Gears crunched as they engaged. The Macule machine started to roll forwards, picking up speed fast. It didn’t have to slalom about to avoid rocks; the tracks simply crushed them deeper into the sand. When it came to a larger outcrop, it rode over it, the segments undulating about their junctions, creating a lengthy ripple effect.
Ry realized it was catching up, and ordered more power to the quad-kart’s axle engines.
‘We’ve expanded the wormhole generator’s force field to cover the domes,’ Demitri said. ‘I don’t think your pursuer has the ability to break through. For all it’s impressive, it is rather primitive.’
‘What in Uracus is it?’ Ry demanded. ‘Is it Commonwealth?’
‘Unlikely,’ Demitri said. ‘It appears to be nuclear-powered, and its reactor is lacking the normal level of shielding humans build in.’
Ry could see the domes a kilometre ahead now. The temptation to throttle up further was almost overwhelming. But a quick calculation showed he should arrive fifty metres ahead of the Macule machine if he just kept to this speed. An exovision map showed him the other quad-karts speeding for the domes.
Then Paula turned onto a course which would bring her towards him.
‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.
‘A simple test,’ she replied. ‘Demitri, optical refraction on the force field, please. Let our visitor know what it’s up against.’
Ry stared at the domes as the force field shimmered all around them; it was as if the sunlight suddenly became solid. A dull pearl hemisphere materialized, covering the geodesic domes completely. For some reason, that solidity gave Ry a little burst of confidence. He checked the pursuing machine. ‘It hasn’t slowed down,’ he said.
‘Interesting,’ Paula said.
‘Interesting?’ He was five hundred metres from the protected domes now, and he could see Paula’s quad-kart charging towards him from the east, a thin sand contrail stretching out behind her.
‘Yes. Keep going,’ she told him.
Now, Ry decided, wasn’t the time to go all stubborn and argue. He focused on the ground, steering with small controlled flicks to the handlebars. Paula was closing fast. She braked hard, tyres churning up a flurry of icy sand. A moment later, Ry raced past her.
His sensors showed her jumping down off the saddle. Then her force field did the same refraction trick, turning her into a plain white profile, like a statue devoid of any detail. She stood squarely on the tyre tracks Ry’s quad-kart had left and raised a hand, palm out towards the Macule machine.
‘You can’t be serious,’ Ry muttered. His u-shadow automatically reduced speed; he simply didn’t want to miss this.
The huge Macule machine was only a hundred metres from Paula, who stood resolute. Its caterpillar tracks surmounted any obstacle, large or small.
‘Paula?’ Kysandra queried. ‘Do you need more firepower?’
‘I shouldn’t. Not if there’s sentience controlling it.’
Ry had stopped concentrating on the path ahead. He just watched Paula. All he could think was: so this is what it’s like when an irresistible force meets an immovable object.
The Macule machine thundered onwards. ‘Are you going to shoot it?’ Ry asked. The disrupter effect that Commonwealth biononics could produce was formidable, but the juggernaut rushing towards her had the inertia of Uracus.
Just as he was about to turn round and charge back to Paula – not that he had the faintest idea if that would be of any help – a tortured screeching sound came from the Macule machine as chunky metal components were abruptly overstressed. He saw the caterpillar tracks on all its triangular undercarriage mechanisms lock rigid, ploughing up huge waves of sand and stones as they suddenly dug deep into the ground.
‘No way!’ Ry grunted. The machine was skidding along the frozen desert, its five sections waving from side to side. For one moment he thought the whole thing would roll over, but it just kept slowing.
Amazingly, Paula didn’t move. She did lower her hand as soon as the caterpillar tracks locked, but that was all. Why doesn’t she just jump aside in case it can’t stop in time? He held his breath, wincing, almost unable to watch.
The Macule machine came to a full halt, its hemispherical nose seven metres short of Paula. Some of the slender instrument rails were hanging over her. Oiled chains and small hydraulic act
uators moved along them, turning the instruments to align on the spectral figure shining defiantly below them.
Ry’s sensors picked up a multi-spectrum signal transmitted from Paula. ‘Commonwealth first-contact interpretation package,’ his u-shadow said. ‘It allows any reasonably competent processor to establish base equivalents and facilitate the subsequent exchange of vocabulary and grammatical constructs.’
‘Right,’ Ry murmured.
He sat on the quad-kart’s saddle, facing the strange tableau. The wait wasn’t long. Within fifteen minutes, one of the revolving instruments slowed. It started transmitting.
Thirty minutes later, a preliminary lexis had been established. Ry observed in fascination as Paula began to talk to the alien machine.
‘My designation is Paula Myo. I am a human. I have travelled here from this planet.’ A simple file containing a diagram of the solar system was sent, with Bienvenido bracketed.
‘You are new,’ the machine sent in reply. ‘You cannot be a Zone Unit.’
‘I am new to this world, yes. I am not a threat to you. What is your designation?’
‘I am Zone43 Unit976. One of my functions is to guard our boundary. You are intruding.’
‘I apologize. I repeat, I am not a threat. We mean you no harm. We did not know anything was still alive on this planet.’
‘Many Units recreate. There are fewer now.’
‘Do you mean Units survived the nuclear war?’ Paula asked.
‘Units were created after the extinction war to safeguard the Kromal. >Macule sentient species<’
‘Are you a biological entity?’
‘Kromal were biological. All Units contain Kromal-derived orts. Continuation of Kromal exists in this form. All Units exist to facilitate continuation.’
‘What is the end point of this continuation? What is your goal?’
‘Units exist to continue Kromal safely until this world is reborn.’
‘When will it be reborn?’
‘We do not know. Unit creators designed us to endure until the radiation from the war has fallen to a level where biological life can survive again. It has not reached that level.’
‘Really? I may be able to help.’
3
Basement level six under the Opole PSR office only had four cells. It hadn’t been used in living memory of any current PSR officer, although it was maintained with the grudging routine of any government facility. One short corridor served all four cells, its dark brick walls leaking white salt crystals out of the mortar. There was a cage door at the foot of the stairs where armed guards were stationed, along with the two floor chiefs. The steel cell doors themselves weighed nearly half a tonne and needed two separate keys to unlock them. They all had a spyhole.
When Chaing and Yaki arrived, eight officers were clustered round the metal door of cell one, taking it in turns to peer through at the new inmate. They straightened up and saluted guiltily as the two floor chiefs greeted the director. Yaki maintained a disapproving silence as they all filed out sheepishly when the cage door was opened. The floor chiefs put their keys in the door of cell one, and turned them simultaneously.
‘Is the recording equipment working?’ Yaki asked as the locking mechanism clunked.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the senior chief said. ‘It’s all been checked and confirmed by the electrical manager herself. Everything is in duplicate.’
‘Thank you. Open the door, please.’
The senior chief tugged hard on the handle, and the big door slowly swung back.
Roxwolf was sitting at the sturdy wooden table in the middle of the room, facing the door. A handcuff was clamped around his human wrist, securing him to a heavy iron ring in the centre of the table. A shackle bracelet was holding his human ankle to a similar ring set in the floor underneath the table. The guards obviously hadn’t been sure about the restraints working on his ginger-furred animal limbs; instead they’d taken to binding his mismatched legs together. The upper portion of the arm limb was contained in a long leather sheath, with chains holding it immobile against his torso.
‘Director Yaki, welcome,’ Roxwolf said in a gurgling voice.
Chaing couldn’t take his eyes off the fangs filling the creature’s mouth – how sharp they were, how the jaw muscles bulged. He didn’t want to be in the same building as that mouth, let alone locked in the same room. All he could think about was that mouth eating, shredding meat as if it was wet bread – and what kind of meat.
‘Did your officers enjoy peeking at the big scary monster? You should charge people for the privilege. It would double the number of illegal kickbacks you acquire from your various commercial rackets. And Captain Chaing, the great Stonal’s representative on Bienvenido, congratulations on your no-doubt imminent promotion. How long you will enjoy it is of course another matter entirely.’
‘Longer than you’ll live to see,’ Chaing said as he and Yaki sat in front of the table.
‘And yet, here I am: alive. If you wanted me dead, then a quick bullet to the brain from your pistol when you captured me would have sufficed. Good work, by the way. I’m impressed amid my depression.’
‘Patterns,’ Chaing said. ‘The downfall of us all. You always use underground escape routes.’
‘I will make an effort to remember that.’
‘We need information from you,’ Yaki said.
Roxwolf stretched his lips wide, exposing more of his fangs. ‘Of course you do.’
He knows how disconcerting that is for humans, Chaing thought. So he must believe he still has some advantage.
A moment of silence stretched out. Then, ‘Oh,’ Roxwolf said, sounding mildly disappointed. ‘I was waiting for you to give me the “hard way or easy way” speech.’
Yaki tipped her head to one side and fixed him with a faint smile. ‘You’ll give us what we want, or you’ll die. Good enough?’
‘And after I give you what you want, you’ll kill me anyway. So why don’t you just go right ahead?’
‘If you wanted to die, you had plenty of opportunities to make a break for freedom while we were bringing you in. The assault team is good, but you’re a scary beast right out of Uracus itself; one of them would have pulled the trigger.’
‘Quite right, director. So instead of using the stick, would you like to show me the carrot?’
‘Carrots and sticks are for donkeys.’
‘Ah, donkeys, they taste nice, but not as nice as you.’
‘What are you, exactly?’ Chaing asked, pleased he could put up a cold wall of indifference to the creature’s goading.
‘A mistake,’ Roxwolf grunted, and looked pointedly at his leather-bound arm. ‘A very literal half-breed.’
‘So you are Faller? That’s where your sympathies lie?’
‘I am useful to them. I take risks they dare not, so they allow me to live – for a price.’
‘You have a price, then?’ Yaki asked.
‘Everybody has a price, director. You should know that.’
‘What will your cooperation cost us?’
‘That depends. What is it you wish to know?’
‘The locations of every nest you know of.’
‘That is expensive information.’
‘How valuable is your life?’
‘Very. But you haven’t shown me you can guarantee that.’
‘What guarantee are you looking for?’
A long serpentine tongue flickered between Roxwolf’s fangs as he exhaled gently. ‘Full citizenship, granted publicly, and legal immunity from all my past crimes.’
‘I can ask for that,’ Yaki said, sounding slightly puzzled. ‘I’m not sure if the government will grant it.’
‘Of course. As a gesture of good faith, I am willing to give you the current location of the five largest nests in Opole.’
‘Five?’
‘Yes.’
Yaki glanced at Chaing. He knew exactly what she was thinking. There are more than five?
‘I can agree to that,�
�� she said. ‘At the very least, you won’t die today.’
‘Good to know. Oh, there’s one other thing.’
Yaki stiffened. ‘Yes?’
‘The Commonwealth girl, Essie.’
‘Paula,’ Chaing said. ‘Her name is Paula.’
‘Interesting.’ Roxwolf nodded as if agreeing to some inner conversation. ‘I will also require Paula to agree to my terms.’
‘We have no way of getting into contact with her.’
‘Now that’s not entirely true, is it, captain? In fact, you’re trying rather hard, aren’t you? Section Seven has been pressuring every radical Eliter they know of, demanding she get in touch again. I’m assuming that has something to do with the machine in the basement.’
‘The what?’
‘Ry Evine used that phrase as his proof of identity to the polar Liberty mission, who in turn convinced the prime minister – or ex-prime minister, I should say. It was an intriguing conversation – supposedly private. But if your astronauts will broadcast direct from orbit you must expect people to overhear them.’
‘All right,’ Chaing said. ‘If she gets in touch with us, we can ask. But I’d like to know why. Why do you need her to agree to your request?’
‘I met her, as you know. A formidable little thing, even back then. Now, she is just plain terrifying. It’s the potential she represents, you understand. The nests risked everything to use your atomic weapons against her, and we still don’t know if they succeeded.’
‘So you think she’d kill you?’
‘Not if we have a deal. She was open to a deal even after I tried to blow her brains out.’ He shrugged. ‘I failed, of course – which gives me enormous respect for her.’
‘I’m not sure I believe you,’ Yaki said. ‘But we will add it to your demands.’
‘People in a position of strength make demands. I merely offer negotiating points to keep myself alive.’
Night Without Stars (Chronicle of the Fallers Book 2) Page 69
