The Misrule series Box Set

by Andy Graham

  “Shouldn’t talk about my old man, I guess, given you never knew your dad. Some folk would have me doing made-up bollocks like Sensitivity Awareness Facilitation Training for that shit.”

  “If there was ever a person who could break a course like that, you’re the guy.” They high-fived each other. “And no, I didn’t know my dad. But fuck, does my leg hurt.” He couldn’t get his foot in a position where it was comfortable for longer than a few seconds and wanted to rip the thing off. He pulled Neufeld’s pills out of his pocket. The doctor had warned him they were strong, that they would make him drowsy. He shook one into his palm. He could take one, just one, take the edge off the pain. Or maybe he could neck the lot. That would make the pain go away for good.

  “Dude, you’re talking to yourself.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well, if you’re going to take all those pills, wait til we get out of here. I’m not dragging your skinny arse all the way out of these tunnels.”

  “Watch your mouth, Sub-Corporal.”

  His friend rolled to face the wall. “Whatever, dude. You’re no fun anymore. Even Skovsky was more of a laugh, and he had more chance of growing a moustache on his cock than a sense of humour.”

  The tunnel creaked and groaned like a galley in a storm. Ray stuffed the pills back in his belt pouch and swore at the darkness. What had happened recently, first with Stella, then with Brooke, had shifted something. The future seemed more important than the past. Nascimento had just shared stuff with Ray, real stuff, not just his photo collection. He deserved better.

  “My folks were crazy about each other,” Ray said. “Then dad ran off when mum was pregnant with me. He was posted abroad somewhere and shot for deserting his unit in a warzone. I don’t know much more about Donarth Taille, myself.”

  “Taille?”

  “Mum kept her surname and passed it on to me. I didn’t see why I should take dad’s surname. Never met the guy. I wish I’d never met his dad, though. That old goat has never had a good word to say about anything I ever did.”

  “A goat’s like a sheep, right?”

  “Yup. Neither breathe fire. That’s dragons. They don’t exist. Goats and sheep do.”

  “Screw you, dude. You’re getting as bad as Orr. I knew that.”

  “Sure you did.”

  “Just like you know a couple means two, right, Franklin?”

  A click clack of falling stones echoing up the corridor silenced the men. Ray stared into the darkness, straining to see shapes in the shadows, hoping he wouldn’t.

  “It’s nothing. We’re the only ones down here.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Ray replied, not wanting to meet any of the monsters from his childhood.

  “So you never met your dad, ever?”

  “Nope. Not even seen a picture. At least I got to see my mum a bit. I never saw myself as a Taille; it’s always been Franklin. Maybe that’s part of the problem with my grandad. I did OK, though. I was well looked after, better than most in some respects. Now, leave it Jamerson, it’s all good. Sleep, Sub-Corporal. That’s an order.”

  Nascimento was already snoring, a low, rasping noise. Ray took a swig from his flask. He started counting down the seconds till he was due to be relieved, acutely aware of the throbbing in his leg and foot now he wasn’t moving. In the distance, a patter of falling stones and gravel faded into nothing.

  Woken by a rumbling deep within the mountain, the squad seemed to be on the move again no sooner than Nascimento had taken over Ray’s watch. The snatched sleep Ray had managed had left him more tired than before. The nightmares had returned. This time the ghosts with needles for fingers had been dragging a boy to a plastic coffin. The kid had both been Ray and not been him at the same time, he-not-he had been snotty and screaming, tearful and kicking. Ray had woken feeling he was wearing someone else’s skin.

  “Bad dreams?” Nascimento asked.

  “Ghosts.”

  “Never used to believe in ghosts. You know, on account of being an adult,” Nascimento replied. “But down here, dunno, makes me think all kinds of stuff. Guess I read too many books about atomic warrior skeletons when I was a kid.”

  “You had those in the Gates?”

  “Smuggled in through the tunnels under the walls. Dad was furious when he found them. ‘This could cost me my job, Jamerson!’” Nascimento said with a grin.

  After a cold gelatinous breakfast, an hour’s walk between the pulsing amber streaks led them to the source of the noise that had shaken them awake. Nascimento set to pulling a large slab of stone away from the partial cave-in blocking their path. Motes spun around his head in a frenzied dance while Orr and Brooke wrestled with another rock.

  Ray pulled at his collar to let some air under his jacket. They’d left most of their body armour higher up the tunnels as the damp cold had given way to a humidity which became more oppressive by the step.

  “It’s the wet heat that kills you,” James had announced. He followed it with a helpful explanation why that had earned him a dead arm.

  Aalok called Ray over. “Go watch James. If he even blinks out of time, I want to know.”

  “Sir?” Ray glanced at the cave-in. His colleagues were tugging at a stone. Nascimento and Orr were red-faced. Sweat cut glittering curves along Brooke’s dust-covered skin.

  “Watch James. He trusts you,” Aalok whispered, “but I don’t trust him. Pretty sure he’s got orders I don’t know about and I’m not having him risk my people. Go, now. See if you can get him to talk.”

  “What do I say?”

  “Get him to put his helmet back on to start with. I don’t want the guy getting concussion because he stands up and brains himself on a stalactite.”

  “Then what?”

  “You being obtuse or dumb?” Aalok asked. “Ask him a question.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, Franklin. Think. I give you permission to try it this once. Kiss him or something.”

  “He’s a guy.”

  “And?” Aalok quirked an eyebrow at Ray.

  “Nothing, Cap. I’ll go for the helmet option.”

  “Thought you would.” Aalok grinned and yelled at Orr to put his lid on before part of the mountain fell on his head and no, he didn’t give a damn about how hot it was down here.

  Ray armed the sweat off his brow. He wanted to keep busy, to help his colleagues. It would help him to ignore the greasy feeling he got when he was overtired, but Aalok had a point, there was something off about the sci-captain. Attempting to keep it casual, he wandered over to the guy. “Captain Aalok says to put your helmet back on.”

  “Why?”

  “Same reasons as what you should have been told in training, same reasons builders wear helmets. Stones. Debris. Shit falling from the sky.”

  “We’re underground.”

  “You get the idea. The military lost a crap-ton of soldiers in the First GTC from debris thrown up by bombs. You know what they say about things that go up. The things have been mandatory in operations since then. Thought you would have known that?”

  “Sci-Corps,” James grunted. “Got better things to worry about.” All the same, he did as he was asked, tilting the helmet back so it exposed more of his face.

  Like every other soldier who’s ever had to wear one for any length of time, Ray thought. Might not give as much protection but it was way more comfortable and practical.

  “Did you want something?” James asked.

  Ray gestured to the seams over James’s head. “So is this what we’re after, this weird rock?” The question seemed like a better way of following Aalok’s command than trying to surprise-snog the sci-captain.

  James nodded. “The general public thinks we have centuries’ worth of coal and oil left in the ground, but no new fields have been found in a generation. The tar sands have been drained, the old rigs are dry heaving, and most mines are now depots, bunkers or museums. Hydrogen and the renewables aren’t providing enough power. Shaw got it
wrong.”

  “Brooke knows a guy called Shaw from Sci-Corps.”

  “Must be the same one. Why he wasn’t better known, I have no idea. He deserved recognition more than most of the fame hungry scientists in the public eye,” James muttered. Crimson shadows flitted across his face, framing the gleam in his eyes.

  “Why haven’t the people been told about these shortages? This is huge.”

  “Some know. Some choose not to. Most people would rather live in ignorance of the facts, and then look for someone else to blame and someone else to save them when the shit hits.” He fished a food tube out of his pack. “The outages haven’t affected the Towns as much as the Gates, but it’s just a matter of time. Keep it quiet, though, Franklin.”

  A dull thud of rock sent a dust cloud spilling up the tunnel. “And Shaw found this stuff?” Ray asked once the dust had passed. He squinted at the walls. This close he fancied he could see minute flashes moving through the amber streaks, similar to the Northbridge. Had Brooke tipped Shaw off about this stuff when she’d given him the shards she’d carved from the bridge? Ray reckoned that was a question James didn’t need to know.

  “Professor E. G. Shaw.” A note of excitement crept into James’s voice. “One of the greatest scientists of recent times, a true gentlemen, and your classic gentle giant. Only blip on his record is a bunch of botched calculations the government have been using to budget their power bills on for years. Shaw’s Law states that the amount of power needed to run all the electrical systems on the planet, which is pretty much everything we have, doubles every fifty years. I think it’s way more than that but he— What are you laughing about?“

  “The legions have a Whore’s Law: you can never get enough.”

  A rock crashed into the ground, spitting dust over the two men. Coughing up dust, James said, “Have you?”

  “Against regs. Besides, why would I risk my career for a glorified wan—“

  His words were cut off by a shout of victory. Orr had shoved a hole through the blockade. “Let’s go, boys,” called Brooke.

  James screwed the top on his half-empty food tube, his eyes were fixed on the filigree patterns weaving through the walls.

  “Isn’t that Brooke’s food?” Ray asked. “She picks the labels off like that.”

  “She left it behind, seems stupid to waste it,” James replied, tearing his eyes off the walls.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Get a move on!” Aalok’s voice boomed up the tunnel. Ray helped the Sci-Captain to his feet, wincing as he did, and they scrambled through the hole.

  35

  Gwenium

  A metal sheet slammed closed. The clanging ricocheted around the vast cavern.

  “That’ll be our discrete entrance,” said Nascimento.

  “Entrance? That was our exit,” Orr replied.

  James’s jaw dropped. “It’s true.”

  The cavern was as big as a shuttle hanger, the ragged ceiling hanging high above them. The delicate amber capillaries lining the shallower tunnels were dwarfed by the arching, arterial patterns here. Some were as thick as a man’s thigh. Ray was convinced he could hear the light as a low shimmering buzz.

  It had taken another half-day to get to this place, and another half to get the doors open. The outer doors were made of a slate-like metal that seemed to grow out of the walls. The inner barrier was a patchwork portcullis, dirty rivets holding together mismatched metal pieces. Rivulets of stone snaked across it, disappearing into large black scorch marks.

  “Looks like someone tried much harder to get out than in,” Ray said.

  They moved forwards out of their defensive arc, each an exact distance from the next.

  “Sir, my weapon’s fried.” Nascimento.

  “Mine too, sir.” Brooke.

  “My back-up’s out.” Orr.

  “Corporal?”

  “Dead as, sir.”

  “James? James!”

  “What? My rifle, I don’t know, sir, but all my equipment has shut down. All of it: watch, screen, phone, torch, wearables, even my dog-e-tag.”

  “Well, the last one is no great loss. Stupid idea, if ever there was one,” Brooke muttered.

  “Weapon first, James. OK, people, you know why we’re here. James, do your thing. Corporal,” Aalok gestured at Ray, “go with him and see he doesn’t get lost again. You two, get that door open. Brooke, you’re with me. And easy does it. I want to be in one piece for my wedding anniversary.” He winked at his squad and quiet laughs flashed around the group.

  They moved off, loosening knives and taking out batons. Orr smacked his palm with the heavy shaft. “Old-school riot style.” He said winked at Nascimento. “Just like the good old days.”

  “I must’ve been asleep back then.”

  “You’re always asleep up here.” Orr tapped his forehead.

  “Always wide awake down here, though.” Nascimento pointed at his groin. “I win.”

  Their voices trailed off as they headed back to the exit.

  “Hey, James,” Ray said, as he caught up with him. “This is tough, I know, but we’re not in the lab. You have to pay attention. We’re here so you can do your job, but you have to help us do ours. Sir,” he added.

  “Thanks.” The other man’s shoulders sagged. “And don’t call me ‘sir’. I only outrank you on paper. I’m not sure it counts much down here.” He unrolled a collection of tools from his backpack and pulled out a small scalpel.

  “What you said before, about this energy shortage. Is it really that bad?” Ray asked. He wasn’t asking for Aalok’s sake. The question was genuine. Ray was worried. He was convinced the authorities would sacrifice the Free Towns power supply for that of the Gates.

  “Worse. We’re running out of time and options.”

  “Nuclear?”

  “Risk-to-benefit ratio isn’t good for the fission reactors for one thing, and they’re too vulnerable.” James moved closer to the walls and tapped one with the scalpel. “My mother was a nuclear consultant for the government back when it was trying to deal with the so-called nuclear future. The superpowers went through a massive compromise and decommissioning process. It took years to implement and enforce, and no one wants to rake that up again. I can’t see the Universal Nations being too keen on any new legislation that contradicts the hard-line stance, either. At least not publicly.”

  Orr kicked the heavy metal barrier. A dull thud rang out. “Why couldn’t this stuff be on a mountain rather than in it?” Ray heard him grumbling.

  “Or a beach, a hot beach surrounded by plenty of curvy, freshly-washed p—” Nascimento’s reply was muffled by another dull thud from Orr’s boot.

  James studied a seam. “I think nuclear could still be an option, but no one’s prepared to make the investment in something which has such a dodgy track record. We were making progress with the plasma-burn plants but they’ve been shelved, no idea why. Even so, they’re decades away, that’s assuming they’re viable... You didn’t get much of that, did you?”

  “Nope.” Ray pressed a thumb into a broad amber seam. Tiny flashes coalesced around the pressure, even through his glove it was hot. “So this stuff is the answer?”

  “That’s the idea. Shaw found it when he was working for the Sci-Corps as a contractor. He left a while back, tired of the arguments.” He sliced into the seam, peeling off a sliver of rock. The wall throbbed where the blade had been, darkening, sparkling. “He named this rock after his daughter, gwenium, ‘dense but bright’.” James laughed at Ray’s expression. “He didn’t mean it badly. I met her a few times. She was a great kid. Lanky and too clever for her own good, but oddly heavy. If she didn’t want to be moved or picked up, there was no way you could budge her. It was her party piece.” He dropped the sample into the storage canister. “Shaw was heartbroken after she and his wife fell ill, some kind of terminal disease. It looked like radiation damage. I got . . . ” his face hardened, “someone I know to help run DNA tests. Oddest thing I ever saw, t
he cells looked like microscopic cockroaches. Shaw and his family disappeared soon after. I think Shaw blamed Sci-Corps for what happened to them. Maybe that’s why he quit.” The sample curled up around itself, still pulsing but more slowly, less intensely. “Amazing stuff.” James poked it.

  Ray grimaced. “Gives me the creeps.”

  James scrutinised him.

  “What?” Ray asked. “I don’t like rock that behaves like it’s alive, OK?”

  “Not that. The story you told around the fire, Greenfields. I’ve heard about the Trident: the Head, Heart and Hand, but not that story.”

  “Well, now you know. I thought it was just a local thing. Get a move on, will you, so we can get out of this place.”

  “Watch who you’re ordering around, Corporal.”

  “10th Legion privilege, sir.” Ray turned his back on the sci-captain.

  Aalok and Brooke were examining a large rectangular rock a short distance away from him. Crimson waves of light washed over them. The rock was covered in a small collection of objects. Maybe they have teeth marks on them. Human teeth marks, the thought slid across his mind like an oil slick, wrapped in echoes of childhood campfires and nights spent shivering in a tent, clothes soaked in cold sweat.

  “Focus,” he muttered. He crouched down to clean his rifle, focusing on digging the grime out of the grooves along the stock. He was struggling to keep his mind disciplined. The more annoyed he got with each stray thought, the worse his foot got, like it was being sliced off with a blunt knife.

  “A simple op,” Chester had said, “just get the Sci-guy in and out, back in under a week, don’t need to know any more.” It was typical of the instructions for the 10th Legion. Go here. Blow that up. Shoot this person. Kidnap that one. It was starting to grate on his nerves.

  He spat on the floor. Even that seemed to make his foot throb. Being underground just made things worse. The darkness of the caves was too much like being asleep. That’s where the worries waited. He’d known Aalok for a long time, though. He had a knack for making things go right. Where the captain went, Ray would follow. Something twinged in Ray’s back. “Keep active and get on with it,” he whispered. “That’s what you do with bad backs: move them.”