A People's War (The Oligarchy Book 2)

by Stewart Hotston

  ‘Just as the soldiers crossed the gates, there was a flash in the sky and they stopped fighting us. You didn’t know what had happened but the man told me Lysander had honoured a covenant. When the soldiers stopped fighting, your Company agreed to come to pick you up. You told them to take all of us and then we left.’

  ‘This was a dream?’ asked Helena as patiently as she could. This Normal had sent in a young girl desperate not to die with some bizarre and ludicrous idea that this would help them.

  She knows of Lysander, said her AI.

  This gave her pause, but it wasn’t enough to convince her. Have you ever come across a technology which could give her such knowledge via a dream? She asked it incredulously.

  The telepaths could very well be capable. We have very little idea of what they are actually able to achieve.

  There was no answer to that. But how the hell would they know of Lysander? She asked it.

  That is not a question I can answer, came the reply.

  ‘What did this man who held your hand look like?’ asked Helena.

  ‘Like my father,’ said Analise.

  So it wasn’t a telepath then, thought Helena.

  There’s no reason why her mind wouldn’t present such an invader as something she recognised. Your brains are quite able to fold the unknown into the expected.

  Helena thought about this and put it to the test. ‘So Lysander helped your father?’ she asked.

  ‘No, the man was like my father but it wasn’t him,’ said the girl firmly.

  ‘How do you know?’ returned Helena, to which Analise said nothing. Helena repeated herself and Analise looked at the door nervously. At first, Helena thought she meant to flee but then understood that she was simply looking for her father.

  ‘I sent him away,’ said Helena. ‘He can’t hear you.’ Analise looked at her, her mouth twitched but she didn’t speak. ‘How do you know he wasn’t your father?’

  ‘My father died as we were leaving home,’ said Analise quietly.

  Her certainty shook Helena for a moment. ‘Do you think this is what will happen?’

  The girl shrugged her shoulders as if to say it wouldn’t make any difference to her, but Helena could see she was convinced by her dream. She had a hundred questions circling in her mind but knew she didn’t have time to settle them properly. She wanted to ask whether the girl had ever dreamed like this before, or whether she knew that the dream was telling the future or even if it was just a dream. Has this man spoken to her before? She wanted to ask what made the girl believe in a dream.

  Choosing one she said, ‘Why do you believe in this dream?’

  Analise looked as if she’d been asked why she had two arms or lived in Skagen. ‘Joseph’s dreams came true,’ was all she said, as if this was reason enough.

  Helena had no idea who Joseph was and her AI intervened.The man is clearly a telepath. He may not be one of Isaac’s but he means to help this girl, and us, escape from here. It would appear he opposes Indexiv and we really don’t have time to debate the merits of prophecy right now. I’d like to leave this place and this infant in front of us appears to offer the only statistically reliable way out.’

  You’ve run an analysis? asked Helena.

  No, but every other alternative ends in our death almost every time.

  If nothing else will work, we have nothing to lose in trying this. Helena made to leave the room but remembered before she’d taken half a step that if she agreed to the interpretation of this girl’s dream, then she had no clue what was expected of her.

  ‘What do I have to do?’ she asked Analise.

  The girl frowned. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Helena. Analise’s eyes twitched as if she’d been hit.

  ‘What do you mean you don’t know?’ asked Helena, her voice rising ever so slightly.

  Analise still said nothing.

  I don’t believe this. I give myself into this girl’s hands and she has no idea what to do with me. Underneath her immediate despair, Helena felt fascination at the girl’s evident lack of understanding. Helena had expected her to know exactly what course of action was required. Analise’s blank expression, the sign of her failure to think beyond retelling her dream provoked within Helena a compulsion to uncover what had moved the child to present her imaginings to someone so alien to her.

  ‘Forgive me,’ said Analise. ‘It’s not my place to lead you.’

  ‘Indeed,’ was all Helena said as she struggled to make some sense of the information. If this telepath had known of her plight, why not simply speak directly to her, deliver the message without the intermediary? She grew angry with the absent actor and scowled at the messenger he’d chosen to use. Analise took a step backwards, shuffling her feet towards the door. What a pointless exercise for him to choose this girl, thought Helena.

  She was on the verge of changing her mind and dismissing the girl when Analise took a deep breath and said, ‘The man said to me you wouldn’t listen to him if he spoke to you.’ She lowered her eyes to the ground, aware that she’d not been given permission to speak, let alone criticise a Family member.

  Helena was taken aback by the girl’s presumption to know her but held onto her anger; she would gain nothing by turning this child into a cringing animal.

  ‘Is there anything else you’ve failed to tell me?’ she asked crisply. ‘I’m beginning to assume this dream was intended for me.’ The girl’s face took on a strange look, as if Helena had tried to steal her hair. Irritated at being made to feel as if she understood nothing by a child Helena said, ‘Well?’

  ‘It was my dream,’ said Analise. ‘I’ve told you what you should know.’ Her voice tripped over the words.

  ‘I’ll be the judge of what I should know,’ said Helena.

  They were interrupted by an explosion in the south of the city. Both of them looked over, involuntarily. It was some distance away but, a few moments later, they saw a thin wisp of smoke snaking into the sky, like a ghost rising from a grave.

  Time is running out, said her AI.

  ‘I’ve told you what the man said you should know,’ said Analise, taking another step towards the door.

  Helena knew she’d been this girl’s age once, but the memories were distant, from before she’d received her AIs and the ability to recall everything. She had a hazy recollection of sunny afternoons and French beaches, barbecues in the sand and fishing on a whitewashed pier. It struck her that Analise had lost her brother today, her mother sometime before. She was likely to lose her father, and probably her own life, before the end of the day. It wasn’t something she should have to face at her age, Normal or not. What Indexiv are doing isn’t right.

  You killed her mother, not Indexiv, said her AI.

  ‘Call your father,’ said Helena, shaking her head to dispel her AI’s unwelcome comment. ‘It’s time to leave Jutland.’

  As Analise called for Clerk, Helena let her vision and hearing sensitise, focussing on the south of the city where the smoke gently plumed into the air.

  She could hear the occasional crackle of gunfire and, punctuating it once or twice, the sound of heavier energy weapons. From that part of the city, close to the water’s edge, it seemed likely that Indexiv would sweep east to west as they moved north, bring everyone towards the sandbanks at the northern tip of the peninsula. There was no cover there, nowhere else to run. Whoever wound up there might live a few hours more than would those killed as the soldiers progressed through Skagen, but their end would be the same nonetheless.

  She reflected that the only way Euros would pick them up was if the splinter force were somehow stopped in its tracks. She didn’t know how this man from Analise’s dream was able to command a Solver in London to bring a halt from nearly a thousand miles away, but she’d be interested to see it happen. If only for my own sake.

  Analise turned back into the room, a wide smile on her face. Even when Helena stared in her direction, the girl couldn’t bring herse
lf to wipe the grin from it. She felt it would be unnecessarily callous to bring the girl back to earth, leaving her to her happiness.

  Clerk entered the room, greeted by a loud explosion, much nearer than the last. His eyes darted towards the source, but Helena was focussing herself, trying to think what she needed to do in order to get them to the lighthouse. She wasn’t sure who exactly ‘them’ constituted but supposed the Normal standing in front of her, hope playing delicately across his lips, would be thinking of more than just himself and his family.

  ‘How many of us are there?’ she asked.

  ‘Thirty here, another three to four hundred in the woods to the North. We have to stop for them.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Helena.

  ‘I’m surprised you do,’ replied Clerk.

  ‘Daddy,’ said Analise, her voice a reprimand. His looked at his daughter and an emotion Helena didn’t recognise settled on his face.

  ‘He has been speaking to her for years, but never before did he tell her to do anything.’ He shook his head.

  Analise looked at him before trying to hug him. He held her away from him, hands on her shoulders and said, ‘Make sure this Oligarch makes it to the lighthouse, my dearest heart.’ Tears started to roll down her face, but she nodded her assent.

  ‘You aren’t staying?’ asked Helena incredulously.

  ‘I told you before,’ said Clerk, his own eyes glistening, ‘I’m not leaving my home. He has said He wants her in London, to tell her story. His ways are not ours so I have to trust him to turn this too good for us.’

  Before Helena could question him, he turned and walked from the room. Skipping to catch him up, Analise snuck a look at Helena, throwing an arm around his waist as they left the room. Her gaze felt like glue, pulling Helena along behind them as surely as if the Analise had been holding her hand.

  Following them down into the lobby, Helena was again greeted by the female guards. With them were three dozen assorted men, women and children. Apart from the very youngest, everyone was armed. The weapons ranged from crude ballistic pistols to moderate laser and plasma rifles scavenged from Insel’s stores. No Company was ever truly unarmed. A man by the door was folding out a railgun; two others were unpacking ammunition. The red stripes around the casings indicated incendiary heads.

  ‘Why defend the spire?’ she asked incredulously.

  Clerk laughed once, a crisp dry explosion from his mouth. ‘Don’t you understand yet? They’re going to die so you might save the rest of us.’

  Helena watched the three men in silence for a moment. One of them glanced her way for a second before returning to his careful unwrapping of individual slugs from packing spacers.

  How did these people become so organised so quickly? she wondered. Who decided these three should sacrifice themselves for the rest of them.

  For the rest of us, returned her AI.

  Indeed, thought Helena.

  ‘So what would you have us do?’ asked Clerk, breaking her out of her musing. A sarcastic retort died on her lips. Standing around her now were those who were not staying behind. Those who are going to try to live. She knew she probably wouldn’t recognise them, but Helena looked to see if any of those who had captured her stood in the group.

  Her AI joined in but rapidly concluded that her memories of the attack were too corrupted. If they were standing there, then she would be taking them as well. Just before she felt it, her secondary AI warned her of a powerful EM pulse. It swept through the building and was gone.

  ‘Yours?’ she asked.

  ‘What?’ replied Clerk.

  ‘If you have EMP weapons you might just survive this,’ said Helena. ‘I need whatever weapons you might have for me.’ She raised her voice for the benefit of the others. ‘The rest of you need to start making your way towards the tunnel system. That will take us to the northern edge of town.’

  A number of them shook their heads, both in her direction and Clerk’s. A short woman with input sockets studded across her scalp in place of hair passed him a low-velocity rifle with a couple of clips, which he passed onto Helena.

  ‘Booby traps,’ said Clerk by way of explanation. He took a second weapon from the same woman.

  ‘Even if we hadn’t of planted them they’ve sent Crawlers down there,’ said a tall, bulky man whose eyes were so far apart as to almost be on opposing sides of his head. The place where his eyes should have been was blank skin. Faint tan lines, which ran horizontally across his face where he wore goggles when working, suggested he spent most of his time somewhere hot and bright, or had done.

  Helena swiftly consulted her maps of the town. ‘Oddevej it is then.’

  No one moved; Helena realised they were waiting for her. She felt odd at the notion that some things never changed.

  ‘Who knows how to fire the weapons you’re holding?’ she asked. A smattering of hands went up, perhaps half of those there, mainly the younger people.

  ‘Which of you actually know how to fight with the rifles you’re holding?’ she asked again more firmly, hoping to weed out those who were being brave from those who knew what they were doing. It worked better than she’d anticipated because after a moment or two, only half a dozen hands remained in the air: four young men and the two women by the door.

  A distant crackle, which briefly drowned out their voices, allowed Helena to place Indexiv no more than a kilometre away.

  The two women, perhaps in their late teens, were as green as any of the Normals in the room were. But from the simple fact that they had been guarding the spire, Helena suspected they were as seasoned as she was going to find. The younger of the two was thin and stood at just over a metre and a half tall. She was bald, with numerous chrome or black implants across her torso and arms, none of which looked like they might offer additional advantages. The other woman was shorter and fatter. Helena couldn’t understand how Normals allowed themselves to waste energy in getting overweight. The girl stood easily, her hands resting on her plasma rifle with the familiarity of use. Defiance shone from her eyes, something Helena found interesting. She had stocky, cybernetic legs with widened shoulders. Apart from her large gut, which hung over her waistband like a collapsed muffin, she was powerfully built. Helena doubted it translated into speed but knew the girl could take a pounding and not go down.

  Finished with the women, she scanned the four men. Three of them were around twenty, none of them had shot their rifles before and she suspected they were here now because they were too green to have been allowed to fight with the others who were delaying Indexiv’s inexorable drive across Skagen. The thud of a mortar rippling through their bodies from less than a hundred metres away made her flinch but it wasn’t followed up and she finished reviewing those around her.

  The last of them was older. Helena had seen few like him before, but he held a plasma rifle comfortably in his arms and wrapped around his neck were four prehensile cables whose ends were hidden somewhere in the lower reaches of his back. He was the only one of the six to return her gaze and, in it, she saw an adulthood she knew rarely came to Normals.

  ‘You’ve fought before,’ she said as a matter of fact. The others watched him, some of them prideful, others respecting her for having seen it in him, despite his advancing years.

  ‘In the 37-39 war Ma’am,’ he replied.

  I am detecting radio chatter, said her AI.

  ‘We must go,’ announced Helena. ‘The six of you, what are your names?’ The six of them signed off as if they had trained for it: Lotte, Magda, Jens, Jacob, Peter and Stefan. Pointing at the girls, she said, ‘You two, come with me.’

  Helena split the remainder into two groups of twelve apiece, placing the three younger men in a line through the middle of them, more to keep their formation than to provide any form of firepower. She placed Stefan, the eldest, at the front. He knew what to expect. She hoped he would be her eyes up front. Indexiv were behind them and to the South, but she wanted the insurance of having his experience as far fro
m her as possible, spread out and doing good where she couldn’t be.

  ‘The rest of you, unless you come under direct fire or I give the order, do not use your weapons.’ She paused, and to underline just how much she was against them taking the initiative said, ‘Those who fall will be left behind. Those who fire without my express orders will be left behind. Those who return fire without my express command will be left behind.’

  Shots zipped into the sky three or four streets away, warning them that Indexiv were advancing. The group who were to remain hastened their preparations, checking over equipment one final time.

  Helena, flanked by Lotte and Magda, broke into a trot and turned onto Oddevej. She looked behind her once to check everyone was still with her before letting her senses roll out in front of her. She set a pace which she knew wouldn’t be kept for long but which might just save some of their lives for another hour or two.

  It was slow going, even with her pulling them forwards. She could hear Peter’s hollow shouts of encouragement and anger maintaining the distance between the front and back of the party as he pushed them to keep up with her. He knows not to let us get strung out.

  They reached the junction of Skagavej without incident. Helena pressed on the last two hundred metres towards Battevej, where she hoped the rest of the town’s people were waiting for them.

  As they reached the junction, a scream went up from behind. Helena turned to see one of the group held high in the air, screaming as if the end of the world were upon them, arms flailing. Unable to see what held the man aloft she unholstered her rifle and began calling for those around her to keep moving. Lotte and Magda held themselves together. They copied her, calling friends and family by name, encouraging them calmly and firmly to keep moving towards the woodland.

  The middle of the group caught up with Helena as she moved backwards through their advance. As she got a clear view, she faltered. A crawler had broken through the surface from one of the tunnels underneath Skagen but in doing so had tripped one of Clerk’s booby traps. The trap’s EM blast had disabled the crawler just as it had begun its attack. The one man it had gotten hold of continued to hang in mid-air, his feet swinging uselessly above the ground, his waist gripped by one of the crawler’s tentacles. Miraculously, he was unharmed.