The Misrule series Box Set

by Andy Graham

  “Of course. Early tests on the little of the element we have indicate it could be a solution to our energy problems. They also state it may be toxic. One of life’s little inconveniences.”

  The lines around Bethina’s eyes tightened. “Who else knows about this?”

  “With Eddie Shaw gone? Lind, probably. Chester, possibly.”

  “Prothero?” she asked.

  “He’s an idiot, too obsessed with saving his pet miners to know what the rest of the world is doing.”

  “He’s always been interested in saving the mines,” Bethina said, a faraway look on her face. “The town he was born in relied on that industry.”

  The VP’s curiosity spiked. “Ma’am?” But she had turned away.

  High above them the metal of a giant ferris wheel creaked in the winds. The satellite dishes perched amongst the bird droppings were in various states of disarray. Some gleamed, others rusted and wires sprouted like roots. “I thought this had been taken care of?” She gestured upwards.

  “Resources. There is only so much balancing of the books we can do with the funds we have. The Forum has requested certain financial documents we are honour-bound to provide.”

  “Honour-bound is not the same as legally bound,” she said. “Deal with it.”

  “Chester has also been asking questions, off the record. She’s been spending too much time reading the old intellectuals and academics. Their naive ideas on nationalism and race are proving a fertile ground for her dreams of resurrecting Brettia.”

  “Chester’s an old friend. I’ll handle her.”

  A rush of desperate anger surged through him. “Ma’am, the country of Ailan was created from Brettia. The two can’t exist together. We’re on shaky ground already, without the country’s most senior military officer adding her potentially destabilising views into the mix.”

  “I said I will deal with Chester. Besides, we owe her.”

  “How long are we going to be paying off that debt? Wasn’t winning the Second GTC her job?”

  Bethina turned her back on him, appearing not to be listening. Her dogs loped out of the shadows and lunged at the fisher gulls perched on the concrete bollards.

  Damn you, woman! Why can’t you see the problem staring us in the face? He wanted to shout, pin her down and slap some reason into her, but knew it would lead him to places in his mind that he dare not touch.

  One of the birds launched itself into the air, squawking back down at the snapping jaws below. It flew north, over the reflection of the large sandstone structure that seemed to float in the river Tenns. Gentle, sweeping curves rippled with the waves, a promise of beauty. It was a far cry from the reality of what stood on the far bank, the antalgic lean of a building clinging to the sky.

  The Palaces of Democracy had escaped the violence of the Silk Revolution relatively unscathed. Now, they appeared to be rotting from the inside. The spires and crenellations were crumbling. Giant mullioned windows grinned like cracked teeth, and the once imposing buttresses would break off in your hand.

  “Why do you think the Palaces escaped the worst of the Revolution? Too big a symbol to destroy, too close to home, maybe?”

  “Ma’am?” He forced his voice even. “We were talking about General Chester.”

  “Odd, really, when you think about what they stood for.”

  “Please, don’t ignore me.”

  “I’m not. You had a question about General Chester?” She smiled, humourless and cold. “Was it you who asked General Chester to suggest changing the Pregnancy Directive?”

  A rash of cold chilled him to his balls. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m no fool. And I do not appreciate you trying to influence me behind my back.”

  He rushed the words out as quickly as he could think them. “Birth rates are plummeting. Death rates are stable. You countersigned that report. You know what it means. A birth rate of less than two children per union means our culture will be lost in a matter of generations. All our enemies need to do is wait and we will breed ourselves out of existence.”

  “The people of Mennai, and anyone else born beyond our borders, are not our enemies.”

  “They are not our friends, either. The pure blood of Ailan will be lost. It’s already being diluted. I’m concerned for what we have built together. The citizens flout the Pregnancy Directive anyway. This lottery to be allowed another child doesn’t help. If we let them continue to break this law, what will they think of next?”

  The harsh lines in her face softened. “I understand your concerns and there is truth in them, but a little bit of flexibility in the system stops it from breaking. It’s also true that previous generations benefitted from larger families in some cases, especially those with twins.” She pulled her coat close. “But if we relinquish the controls we’ve fought so hard to implement, we may not exist in a generation, let alone three or four. Resources are stretched to breaking point, we can’t deal with many more people. We lost another small power plant last week. I know you know that. You countersigned that report.”

  “But—”

  “Nothing. End of story.”

  A screeching noise echoed down the river banks. A flock of fisher gulls disappeared into the Palaces, swooping down over a prey he couldn’t see.

  “However,” she said, “I think you may be right. Chester could do with a distraction from her dreams of resurrecting Brettia.”

  His growing temper mollified by her words, he nodded his assent. I can wait for you, Laudanum. Not long, but I’ll play your games for now.

  “How is the refit of Substation Two going?” she asked. “I hope you have made progress on that while playing at Mother Earth and Father Time in this little secret society of yours?”

  He flushed, his cheeks burning in the cold air. “It has new cameras. Given the recent problems, the director insisted on improving security before refurbishing the generators. The cameras aren’t wired for sound yet.”

  “Just images would be better. If there were to be a credible threat, with just enough evidence that it was the Mennai behind it, it should help us push through what we need to rebalance the accounts without too many questions. We would be able to give Lind the bonus he needs. It would also switch Chester’s focus back to Mennai, and remind the populace they need us.”

  “Substation Two supplies power to the capital and several other major cities, ma’am. If that were to go down, we’d have major issues over winter.”

  “Exactly.” Her face split into a merciless grin. “We need something flamboyant, a real threat to scare people into obedience. What do you think?”

  A notion of an idea uncurled in his head. I think it would give me options. “I’ll see to it, ma’am.”

  One of her aides signalled.

  “Substation Two. Nothing too dramatic or damaging, cosmetic damage only.” She raised a warning finger. “We need that power. Now, I have to go. I have yet another board meeting. Prothero’s latest proposal has caused the predicted problems.” She let out a sigh that must have started in her shoes. “My life would be so much easier without him, sometimes.”

  Her vehicle pulled away the moment the doors clicked shut. It crossed the Stone Bridge and disappeared.

  The VP watched it go, mulling over her words, her presence. He’d found an equilibrium of sorts that she disturbed. But her plan gave him options he had never considered before. Maybe he had been wrong about her feelings for David Prothero, too. Maybe Prothero wasn’t as dear to her as he had once suspected.

  “That,” he said into the wind, “changes the rules of the game.”

  34

  Donarth Taille

  Brooke ducked under a stalactite which seemed to be making a grab for her, and said, “Where’s your ray-gun gone, Ray?”

  “Who told you you were funny, Brooke? Your buddy Lukaz?”

  “Shut it, Sicknote.”

  Aalok shot them both a warning look and pushed past them, irritation etched into his face. Maybe the smell was getti
ng to him, too.

  It was sulphur, according to James, who had laughed at what Brooke had called it. The Sci-Captain said it hadn’t been known as brimstone for centuries, not since the witch-drownings.

  “Where’s James?” Aalok asked, as if reading Ray’s thoughts.

  “Round the corner, sir. Keeps muttering something about recalibration.”

  “I fancy me some relibation, myself,” Orr said.

  “You’re at it again, bard-boy,” muttered Nascimento. “How hard did Brooke’s bestie hit you?”

  “He’s not my friend. Drop it, all of you.”

  “Get him, Corporal Franklin.” Aalok’s voice cut through their conversation. “Enough people have gone missing down here as it is. We don’t need some lab-trooper going solo.”

  Orr and Nascimento started cooing, fluttering their eyelids as Ray stood. He flew them both the eagle. The pulling pain in his back was burning into his thigh again. Where was Dr Swann with her magic words when he needed them? Days in the cave system were beginning to take their toll: banged up heads, bruised knees, rock splinters and the damp. He wasn’t the only one whose dry gear was now wetter than the wet gear.

  “Fuck’s sake,” said Nascimento. “My weapon’s gone Skovsky. Second time today.”

  “Mine did that yesterday,” Brooke replied. “Cut back in just as quickly. I did a full check and came up with nothing. Even Sci-Captain Kid couldn’t find a problem. Be nice if our glorious leaders had issued us with sidearms. Screw these zap guns, give me a revolver any day.”

  Nascimento shook his rifle and the lights on the power pack flickered on. “No need. Shake, rattle and rock ’n’ roll!” He winked at her over the barrel of his weapon.

  “Not a chance, Jamerson,” said Brooke. “Besides, it’d mess up your ratios. There’d be too much shoulder in the bed and not enough hip.”

  “Bit like fucking a coat hanger,” Nascimento agreed, grinning.

  “You’ve got more chance with a coat hanger.”

  The good-natured bickering faded as Ray moved away. The tunnels were bathed in a faint pulsing glow from the thin seams embedded in the rock. The squad had noticed them a few days ago. An occasional strand at first, the seams had multiplied as they’d travelled deeper into the mountain. Now they were everywhere, delicate amber tendrils reaching through the stone. Trails of steam rose from the larger ones. Enough light reflected off the damp rocks for them to be able to give up on their torches.

  Beyond the corner, a white halo framed a disembodied head that appeared to hang off the wall. Ray squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s going to screw up your night vision. What’re you doing here?”

  James dimmed the screen. “I don’t understand, this is all wrong.”

  “I thought you geek . . . ” Ray stopped. The guy was way out of his depth. “I thought the Sci-Corps knew what was down here,” he continued.

  “So did I, but this makes no sense.”

  “Welcome to the real world, Legionnaire,” Ray replied, shrugging. “Captain wants you back.”

  Still shaking his head, James slipped the screen into its case and moved off down the corridor.

  “You might want your weapon,” Ray called after him, “the one you left in the puddle.”

  James picked up his rifle. He started up the tunnel. Ray counted to ten, struggling to ignore the feeling he had been swallowed by tonnes of rock, and said, “This way, sir.”

  James retraced his steps, still lost in thought. Ray was trying to cut him some slack, making up for the rest of the squad who were too harsh on him. Perversely, James seemed more at ease down here than he had on the surface. In some ways, he was coping better than the others. Ray’d had enough. As well as the burning pain, his foot was numb. What was going on with that? Stella had warned him recovery wasn’t always a smooth line, but he’d been so good for so long. Why was it playing up again now? Brooke’s confession about being scared hadn’t helped his mood, either, nor had seeing James’s face illuminated from underneath.

  Stann Taille had done that on their camping trips in the Weeping Woods. He’d called it ghost-facing and had saved it for his more unpleasant campfire tales. Stories of people disappearing in the woods; of men in mountain tunnels being hurt badly enough to be crippled, but not so much they’d die quickly; of bones scarred by human teeth marks; and old mining communities that had worshipped evil spirits to keep them safe. There was too much time to think in these tunnels, too few distractions. Checking behind him in a slow, methodical sweep, Ray followed James back, shaking the feeling back into his foot as he went.

  “Ten metres, sir, then take a left fork,” Orr was saying as Ray rejoined the group. “It’s a long tunnel with other routes leading off it. Some of them dead end, but there should be a door at the end of the main shaft.” He wiped the sweat off his bald head. “That’s where the recordings finish. They’re already patchy, but we have nothing from there on.”

  “Sure you don’t want to dance us a little jig to illustrate that now?” asked Nascimento.

  Brooke and Orr punched him, one on each arm.

  “Good work, Orr. Nice of you to join us, James,” Aalok said, examining the map. “General Chester gave us a direct order — on this mission, you’re under my command. Wander off once more, and I’ll put you on a leash, understood?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he pointed into the darkness. “We go left. Sci-Captain James, you take point.”

  The tunnel got bigger and wetter as they wound their way down into the mountain. The smell became more oppressive. More headspace was a welcome relief. It meant they only had to worry about the floor. Rocks snapped up out of the red gloom, snatching at their feet and shins. Firm footing gave way to icy-slick patches of stone, and shadows turned out to be ankle-twisting potholes. Ray began to wonder whether he might be better off on all fours, when he walked into the back of Brooke.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed. “You forget what your eyes are for?”

  “We’ll stop here,” Aalok said. “Brooke, Franklin — you two love doves take first watch.”

  “Sir!”

  “Sir?”

  “Less mouth, more eyes and ears, Franklin. You’ve been unusually sloppy recently. Nascimento, James, you’re up next. Orr and I will finish. Two-hour shifts each.”

  Brooke sat on her helmet, stretching out her legs. In what seemed like another life, they had been wrapped round Ray, trapping him in the dust in a fierce embrace neither had wanted to leave. She gave him a quick smile and turned her back on him, picking the label off her food tube before setting it on a rock ledge beside her.

  “More like Shivermen than Rivermen in this dump.” Nascimento said, shuffling to get comfortable. “Told you I wasn’t built for tunnels.”

  The glowing seams were larger here, the amber light carved into strange shapes by the underground world. Ray grinned, teeth stained crimson.

  “We are the Rivermen,

  come to thieve your homes.

  We are the Rivermen,

  come to bury your bones.

  We are the Reavermen.

  We are the Reavermen.”

  Nascimento clapped him on the shoulder as they finished the chant together. They had learnt it after surviving the EBT, the Extended Basic Training they had to do if they wanted to serve in the 10th. Their rank and pay were ‘reassigned’ in the process. “Sounds better than being demoted,” Ray had told Lenka. But none of the legionnaires who successfully made the move complained. Not much, at least.

  “Do you regret it, moving up?” he asked.

  “Never,” Nascimento replied. “My family are proud of me now they think I’m doing something dangerous for the country.” He rolled onto his side and pulled his pack under his head. “It’s not easy being thought of as the rich kid in the army; you’re treated as a freak on both sides of the fence. When my dad’s job was made hereditary, he said I should go into politics like him. He said it was perfect for me. ‘You’ve been groomed for the role since b
irth, Jamerson’,” he mimicked. “‘It’s just as important as any natural ability. It’s nature and nurture working together for the future of the nation.’“ He laughed and adjusted the position of his makeshift pillow. “Just like the kings of old, King Jamerson the First. Can you imagine what I could do?”

  “A compulsory squat rack in every building?”

  “Barbells would be just the beginning. I have some ideas on clothing, which I’ll share with you when Brooke’s out of earshot,” he whispered. “Anyway, to say the old man was dischuffed at my choice of careers is an understatement, especially when I insisted on a front-line role. I couldn’t bear the idea of being the token sacrificial lamb from the Gates, dressed up in a shiny uniform and then quietly stuffed into a desk job. Pay’s a bit better, too.”

  “Thought you guys were loaded?”

  “The fuck you on about?” he said, snorting. “Dad does OK but we’re not flush. It’s just the top-ranked politicians who get the perks. Everyone else does all the dross. Folk like him are glorified secretaries-cum-enforcers. Dad appears to be well paid, but the amount lost in membership fees, compulsory courses and buying the trappings and trimmings required for the job mean he’s mired in the work. He’s sinking more into the debt trap in the hope that he’ll be the one to float to the top.”

  He rolled onto his back, scratching at the thick beard that now covered most of his face. “Dad wanted to make a difference. He’s done a little good but is crippled by a system that won’t let him change it and people who don’t want it to. Hates the gig, too, but he’s stuck. If he left, he’d be seen as soiled goods. There’d always be a question mark hanging over his head. You’re not told that when you sign the forms. He’s a good man, though. Maybe I should give him a call—” Shadows flickered across his face. “Sorry, dude. Don’t talk about family much. My therapists are very patient but not the best conversationalists.”

  “That’s ‘cos they’re barbells, Nasc.”

  “It was a joke.”

  Ray could have sworn he heard the sound of Nascimento rolling his eyes.