Metal Fatigue

by Sean Williams

  Barely had he travelled a dozen metres when something clanged behind him. His heart froze. The sound had come from the stairs. Katiya, he presumed, following hard on his heels — and making plenty of noise despite his warning not to. He waited ten seconds for any reaction to the sound, heard none, then continued forward.

  He passed no-one along the way, and the starlight was too dim to make out footprints; the bridge might have been empty for all he could tell. Part of him wondered if he had been tricked; Morrow's information might have been wrong, or deliberately false. Had the Head wanted Roads out of the way, he could hardly have chosen a better place to send him.

  He paused to catch his breath halfway across the bridge. Stretching the aching muscles in his neck and shoulders, he tried to blot out the pain. The small of his back itched mercilessly — although whether from paranoia or a genuine warning he couldn't tell.

  "Phil?" O'Dell's voice startled him through the cyberlink. "We've worked out how to tap PolNet's visual transmissions. Can you give me a feed from one of your implants?"

  "Good idea, Martin." Roads called up the appropriate menus. "How's that?"

  "Clear as a bell. We'll record it, just in case."

  "Here's hoping." Roads stood, flexed the muscles of his legs. "Any news from Mayor's House?"

  "Nothing, except a few more shots on the inside. It's impossible to tell what's happening from out here."

  "Keep me posted if anything changes."

  "I will."

  Roads recommenced his awkward crouching run, heading silently along the walkway.

  Silently, that is, until his left foot encountered empty air where there should have been metal.

  He lunged forward desperately. If the gap in the walkway was wider than the reach of his outstretched arms, he had no way of arresting his fall. As he dropped, he had a quick glimpse of dark water rolling far below, and his heart lurched when he realised just how far above the water he was.

  He fell spreadeagled across rusty iron a split-second later, landing with a thud solid enough to send that section of the walkway rocking. His feet dangled in midair, but his knees quickly found purchase. The gap had been less than a metre across.

  Scrambling to his feet he stood up and looked around. Everything was dark; even to his modified eyes, it was hard to make out anything at all.

  Then he froze.

  Twenty metres ahead of him, surprised into motion by the sudden sound, three hot blotches stood out against the cold backdrop of the bridge. One was large and wide, almost certainly Cati. The other two were smaller and unrecognisable, but almost certainly men.

  Two men?

  Roads ran forward, uncaring now how much noise he made, mindful only of the surface beneath his feet. Although his fall had given his presence away, he probably hadn't been seen. If the controller wasn't biomodified — which seemed safe to assume, since he used Cati to do his dirty work — then Roads' indistinct form would make a difficult target through the shadows. He kept his head down anyway, just in case.

  A moment later, he was glad he had. A bullet cracked close by, sending sparks flying from the rail to his right. He weaved and ducked lower. As though startled by the gunshot, one of the smaller shadows ducked away to its left and vanished into the indistinct background of metal. The large shape of Cati remained immobile.

  The third shadow was the one which had fired the shot. In infra-red, the man stepped backward along the bridge with both hands held before him, the white-hot eye of the pistol scanning in Roads' direction. This time Roads caught the muzzle-flash as a second bullet whizzed past his head. Clearly the person taking aim was either biomodified or wearing night-goggles.

  Roads rolled out of sight behind the guard-rail, hands searching for something to throw.

  Among the flakes of rust he found a relatively solid chunk of twisted metal narrow enough to fit in his palm: better than nothing.

  When he peered over the rail seconds later, however, the figure with the gun had disappeared as well.

  "Shit." Only Cati remained where the three had been, frozen in place much as he had been for an instant while attacking Stedman at Mayor's House. Awaiting orders? Roads wondered again.

  He could feel the killer's dark eyes watching him through the darkness, but sensed no immediate threat. The other two men he wasn't so sure about. They were clearly under cover, or else he would be able to see them. By the same reasoning, they wouldn't be able see him either. Unless ...

  Cati could see in infra-red. The killer could tell the controller where Roads was hiding.

  He ducked out of sight behind the guard-rail and crabbed along the bridge to his right. Barely had he travelled two metres when a noise made him look up. There was a fleeting movement in the shadows — a confused flurry, as though someone had stirred the night with a man-sized spoon — then a nebulous shape loomed out of the confusion and lunged for his chest.

  He leapt backward before the blow could land. Both hands came up and clutched at the distortion in the air. His fingers met a stiff artificial fabric, ribbed with plastic. He gripped and twisted, and was gratified to hear a hiss of pain. A knife clattered onto the rusted walkway at his feet. His left knee came up and met flesh, and the arm he was holding tried to pull away.

  Roads fought the misleading data gathered by his eyes — which told him he was fighting a liquid shadow, not a man — and groped with one hand for a better grip. It found a neck, and teeth. Roads kicked again, heard something crack, and felt the man go limp.

  Without loosening his grip, Roads let the body sag to the walkway. Then he felt along its back and shoulders until he found a seam, tugged at it until it tore. Instantly the shadowy cloak fell away, revealing a man lying facedown on the road, dressed in a black and grey body-suit with the distinctive markings of the RUSAMC on its sleeves.

  "My God," said O'Dell, his voice brutally loud in the darkness on the bridge.

  "One of yours?" Roads subvocalised back.

  "One of our nightsuits, anyway. Similar to the Mole's camouflage, but designed specifically for night combat."

  Roads studied the suit more closely. From a distance, it might have looked like an ordinary uniform, but close-up the difference was obvious. Bulges at the hips were batteries, he supposed, with wires embedded in the suit's fabric providing the distorting field-effect.

  Roads rolled the man over and removed the night-goggles covering his face. His features were unfamiliar: pale skin, lank brown hair, late-forties. Blood trickled from the man's nose where Roads' wild kick had struck: definitely unconscious.

  "The suit was stolen, you think?" he asked O'Dell. "Keith again?"

  "No," sighed the RUSAMC captain. "He's one of us."

  "Then what the hell's he doing out here?"

  "I've no idea. And that's the truth."

  Roads bent to check the unconscious man for weapons. "Tell me about him, then. He must be here for a reason."

  "He's not a career soldier," O'Dell said, "but an engineer. He was drafted a couple of years ago to give technical advice on Kennedy and Project Cherubim. There's a good chance he won't be armed."

  "There goes that thought." Indeed, Roads' hands had found nothing under the nightsuit. "Okay. Hang on and I'll see who else I can find."

  Roads clambered to his feet and looked around. Cati stood several metres away, exactly where he had been before. His black eyes tracked until he caught sight of Roads, then stopped. The controller must still be watching, although there was no sign of anyone apart from Cati. Banking on the fact that the remaining man would have to step into view in order to fire — and that he could move fast enough to avoid being shot — he bent down and lifted the unconscious man by the collar of the nightsuit. A hostage was better than nothing.

  "His name, Martin?"

  "Lieutenant-Colonel Sam Betheras."

  Roads cleared his throat, making certain the unconscious man was clearly in Cati's line of sight.

  "I have Betheras," he called. "Put your weapon down, an
d step into view with your hands above your head."

  He waited for an answer. Cati didn't move. The only sound was the whispering of the wind through the infrastructure of the bridge.

  "Can you hear me?" he called. "I have Betheras! We know what you're planning!"

  Again nothing.

  Roads shifted his grip on the RUSAMC officer's neck and stepped over the guard-rail. Cati watched him as he did so, dark eyes following his every movement. The killer's immobility bothered Roads. The controller had a weapon, so why wasn't he using it? All he had to do was instruct Cati to kill Roads, and that would be the end of it. Bluff called, Roads would lose.

  Unless the controller wasn't watching any more. He might have fled while Roads and Betheras were scuffling, and abandoned Cati, leaving him to follow orders that hadn't yet been countermanded.

  But that was unlikely, for if the controller had fled, he would have run headlong into Katiya by now.

  A shrill scream abruptly split the night air.

  Roads turned automatically to face the source of the sound. Cati echoed the movement, swivelling his massive torso. The sound came from the direction of the Kennedy shore, not far away.

  The scream ended suddenly, leaving a flat echo in its wake. The walkway boomed as something struck it, followed by the sound of scrabbling at metal.

  Roads cursed himself. Katiya had slipped in the same gap he had — or run into the controller. Either way, she was obviously in trouble.

  Cati took a step forward, to rush to his lover's aid.

  Then a gunshot aimed over Roads' head split the night, followed by a voice from behind him:

  "Don't move. Both of you!"

  Roads stiffened, letting Betheras fall to the ground. Cati flinched in mid-step, took another pace forward. Barely had he made it two metres when the voice muttered something under its breath and repeated:

  "Don't move! Do as I say, damn you — you know you don't have any choice!"

  Cati froze again, his dark eyes staring helplessly into the blackness.

  The back of Roads' neck tingled as the controller's attention returned to him.

  "Don't try anything stupid Roads." The man's voice was familiar. "I'm armed, and I won't hesitate to shoot. You've caused me enough trouble. Do you understand?"

  Roads nodded.

  "Good. Move next to Cati — slowly. Bring Betheras with you. Don't rush it, and keep your hands where I can see them. That's close enough. Put him down. Now, tell the woman to come forward or I'll shoot you dead."

  "Katiya?" Roads called, keeping his hands up. "If you can hear me, keep coming. Be careful, though. There's someone here with Cati, and he has a gun. I think we'd better do as he says."

  Footsteps rattled the walkway and Katiya nervously emerged from the shadows. As she came closer, Roads made out patches of rust on her clothes and grazes from when she had fallen; otherwise she was unharmed.

  She began to say something, but the voice cut her off, instructing her to join Cati and Roads in the middle of the roadway. They stood motionless together, waiting to see what would happen next. Katiya's eyes were fixed on Cati, studying his face, his wounds, the blank rigidity of his posture.

  If Katiya believed her presence would help Cati break the power of his control codes, then Roads hoped she was right. That possibility certainly existed, if Cati's mind was flexed just the right way, just often enough ...

  Fatigue stress, he recalled from the CATI file. Take a metal rod and bend it one way, then the other; repeat until it snaps. That was exactly what might happen to Cati if he was pushed too hard for too long.

  Whether that would be a good thing or not depended on how Cati snapped, and when.

  Footfalls sounded from a point behind Roads, breaking his train of thought. The controller had finally emerged from his hiding place.

  "Phil, you have to get a look at him," whispered O'Dell into Roads' ear.

  "Be patient," he said. "I'll do what I can."

  The controller came to a halt behind Roads and Katiya. "Well," said the voice. "Here we all are. How cosy."

  Roads shrugged. "Not really."

  "No. Hardly a satisfactory outcome for any of us." The controller moved closer. "I should kill you both now, you realise?"

  "I'm wondering why you haven't already," Roads said.

  "Because I don't need to." The controller stood so close that Roads could almost see his body-heat reflecting off Cati's broad, hairless chest. "Not yet. Not until I find out how much you know."

  "I told you," Roads said. "We know everything about you and Betheras."

  "Then why haven't you addressed me by name? And why are you two alone? If you'd known before you came here, you would have told someone else, and the bridge would be crawling with people. The fact that it isn't suggests that either you don't know, or for some reason you've told no-one. Which is it?"

  Roads shook his head slowly. Cati's controller was clearly unaware that Barney and O'Dell were already on the way. That slightly improved his chances of surviving the next few minutes.

  "The rest of RSD is back at Mayor's House, dealing with the situation there," he said, hoping to convey the impression that he had decided to be honest. "I managed to trace the last call you made to Cati, and decoded it with Katiya's help." He indicated the woman with an inclination of his head, the lie coming easily. Anything to keep Katiya's true connection with Cati a secret. "Nobody would listen. There wasn't even time to convince Barney to come with me. It all happened so quickly."

  "Yes. General Stedman's little trick took even me by surprise." Reluctant admiration made the voice pause, but only briefly. "What about Betheras? How did you know his name?"

  That stopped Roads for an instant, until O'Dell said via the cyberlink: "He was a member of the original envoy. You recognised him as a technical consultant, one of the three at the first meeting with the Mayor."

  Roads echoed the information, and was gratified to feel some of the controller's tension ease. He had supplied the correct answer.

  A low groan issued from the RUSAMC officer, as though the reference to him had pulled him back to consciousness. He stirred sluggishly at Roads' feet like someone emerging from a bad dream.

  "Good," said the controller, seeing Betheras' movement. His voice hardened. "It's not too late, then. Help him up, Roads. Remember: don't make any sudden movements, or it'll be the last thing you ever do."

  Roads did as he was told, and finally came face to face with Cati's controller.

  INTERLUDE

  Wednesday, 19 September, 12:35 a.m.

  Sanctuary!

  She was so close he could have reached out to touch her, had he been permitted to. A wide scrape marred her cheek, and her swollen temple forced one eye into a lopsided squint. The rectangular pendant around her neck glinted in the cold starlight: the only hard point of her whole being. She looked so small, so vulnerable. She shouldn't be here!

  Caught between two worlds — those of his despised past and his fragile present — Cati could only watch as the woman he loved joined him and Roads in the centre of the roadway.

  Voices echoed around him — Roads' and the controller's, mainly — but none were directed at him. Most of the words were therefore blurs without meaning, unstructured sound lacking form or purpose. Unless one of them used the control code, his attention was focused solely on Sanctuary. Every time she spoke, his whole body shook, yearning to be set free — to flee with her back to safety, back to Peace, and away from the shadow-man, who so closely at times resembled the thing.

  "A person is a person," Sanctuary said, "no matter what they're made of. You can't say that someone doesn't feel — or have rights — simply because they're not like you."

  The words struck the very core of his dilemma. He was imprisoned by his own exotic nature; even he knew that. He didn't know why or how he had been programmed to obey, but he could feel the imperative deep in the heart of him. Iron-hard, inflexible, it held him still while every cell strained for release.


  "You're crazy," she continued, defending him when he had no defence of his own to mount. "And ... evil for doing what you've done to us."

  The controller moved around to confront the three of them again, mouthing incomprehensible words as he did. Roads watched warily, but the pistol in the controller's hand never strayed. The shadow-man, bleeding from a broken nose, still worried at the straps and buckles of the garment being fitted across his back. The discussion became more heated, heavier with the threat of violence. It was only a matter of time before one of them broke.

  But it wasn't going to be him. He had too much self control, voluntary or not, to allow disobedience. No matter how much he wanted to. He felt exposed and vulnerable, just as he had in the dream the previous night.

  "That's not fair!" protested Sanctuary. "You have no right to use him like that!"

  The controller laughed. His voice mocked her in reply. Then Roads spoke, and the controller turned the pistol on him, eyes shining with anger. Raised voices ricocheted from the stanchions and girders of the bridge surrounding them. All he wanted to do was to reach out as the controller brushed past him, grasp the thin neck between his fingers, and squeeze as he had been trained to do — squeeze until the life ebbed out of the one that hurt him so much ...

  As though the controller sensed the mutiny in his thoughts, his hand flashed out and slapped him across the face. He blinked, but made no other response. The controller seemed to find that amusing. Sanctuary stared at him with a horrified expression on her face.

  "You have no right to do this!" she gasped. "Why can't you just leave us alone?"

  This time the controller didn't laugh. The man took several paces back and looked around, noticing for the first time the sound of sirens that had been growing gradually louder during the preceding minutes. Small lights moved on the city shore as vehicles pulled to a halt.

  There was a scuffle. Roads grappled with the shadow-man; a shot was fired. But he paid little attention to anything other than Sanctuary, who had taken shelter behind him; even if the controller's orders actively forbade him from helping her, at least he could stay still.