After one last effort, she knew she was going to have to reel herself in. Leaning to her left as she ran, keeping close to the ground, she closed enough of the gap between herself and the officer for him to throw his rifle to the floor and unsheathe a monofilament blade.
Helena saw it too late, only realising what it was as he parried her first blow and sheared through the electrified blade of her own sword in the same move. She brought herself up, rolling away from him in order to avoid being sliced in two. Then she darted backwards. She was outclassed. The officer brought his blade up in an aggressive guard, the point of the sword held out directly in front of him, his wrist level with his chin. Helena threw the dead sword away to her right, dimly aware that around them the shooting had stopped.
Don’t die, said her AI. For a moment Helena thought it had forgiven her. The officer was left foot forward, blade held coda lunga e stretta, and knew he had her beaten. Helena brought her scavenged rifle up and shot him. He hopped into the air, taking the bullet in the chest instead of his face. The plasma round scudded across his armour, shredding as it flew away from his body, leaving a wake of melted plasteel and a large pit just beneath his armpit. Landing heavily, he gasped for air but held his pose.
Helena had one pellet left. It wasn’t going to be enough.
Swinging his sword in a wide arc, starting high up in front of him and coming down towards his knee, he stepped in towards her.
One shot left. Helena and the officer danced round one another, she doing her best to dodge his first tentative thrusts towards her. He was gauging her ability to avoid him long enough to get off a decent shot.
The rain was getting in her eyes, the pain of its impact shocking her with its intensity. Blinking the water away, she realised she’d lost.
The officer saw the change in her pose and drew back his sword for the killing blow. Helena’s senses started to reel themselves in of their own accord, her body unable to deal with the sensory crush pounding her from all sides.
Letting out a huge sigh, Helena felt her body return to some semblance of normality just as he swung back.
A blur of heavy steel came crashing into his side. Helena’s eyes were closing of their own accord; she struggled with an overwhelming desire to sleep. She asked her AI to keep her awake because if she slept it was possible her own body would devour her in an effort to replenish its supplies of energy. Her AI sidled round her consciousness and did as it was asked, suffusing her waking self with enough alertness to see her through the next few minutes.
Looking up, she realised she’d fallen backwards over the body of one of the soldiers who’d had his chest blown out by heavy munitions. She frowned. I don’t remember any of the Normals having gear that effective.
‘Lady Woolf,’ said a male voice in the harsh accent of the eastern City. Helena felt hands help her into a sitting position.
She took in the ruin around her. Several dozen Normals, those who had been on the verge of execution, stood in small clumps across the clearing. But, crouched down, with hands keeping her steady and fatigues whose colour shifted as she watched, was one of her own: one of Euros’ special forces.
‘It’s not my place to comment, ma’am,’ began the soldier. ‘But that was a good show.’ Helena stood to her feet with what felt like the creak of old age.
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ she replied.
‘There are five of us. When we saw the plasma bombardment, we thought you could use the assistance.’
Three of his splinter are dead, including the Oligarch leading them, thought Helena. He didn’t come here to help us; he’s trying to lead what remains of his unit to a theatre of his own choosing.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Don’t thank me,’ said the sergeant. ‘Thank your friends here. It was this one here who crushed the major.’ The Sergeant indicated a large Normal with cybernetic arms. One of them had been severely damaged; wires hung from a gouge in his arm that had torn through the steel plate as if it was paper.
Looking into his face, she saw that he had his own eyes and so, very carefully, she said, ‘Thank you,’ all the while holding his gaze. He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out. Somewhere along the line, Indexiv’s troops had relieved him of his tongue.
Her expression of gratitude rippled through the survivors. First one then another thanked her in return. Bemused, the sergeant looked about him at the admiring faces and coughed.
‘I don’t mean to interrupt, but I wasn’t coming this way with the thought of stopping here.’
‘Indeed,’ said Helena. ‘The lighthouse isn’t far.’
‘Then we should get going,’ said the soldier, hoisting his heavy plasma rifle over his shoulder.
Helena allowed him to walk alongside her as the surviving Normals gathered up those weapons that weren’t keyed to their original owners’ genetic fingerprints and started checking the ditch for survivors before they headed north towards the tip of the peninsula.
Chapter 10
ANALISE EMERGED unharmed from deep, sodden shade with two other young girls. The three of them were holding hands in a chain as they came. Helena could see the young woman telling the others to keep their eyes focussed straight ahead.
The sound of fear, injury and despair filled the air as the surviving Normals examined the scene for survivors. In the time that the officer had gained and then lost control of the fight, Indexiv’s soldiers had managed to kill, or seriously injure, all but eight of the Normals Helena had brought with her. Of the injured, four wouldn’t survive until sunset; one lay quietly bleeding out while the rest of them took stock of their survival. The other three were incapacitated but not in mortal danger. To the surviving Normals’ almost unearthly jubilation, dozens of those awaiting execution at the ditch had been granted another few hours. As they scoured the corpses already piled waist deep in the mass grave, enough of the executed turned out to be alive that the looks on faces, the smiles and sense of Hell pushed back, could have deceived someone stumbling into the scene that a great victory had been achieved.
Which in very real terms it has, thought Helena. A group of Normals, aided by a single Oligarch, had defeated a unit of professional soldiers armed with little more than antique weaponry and the element of surprise. Not a single one of the women or men who had originally had the pick of the superior weapons is still alive.
Analise grabbed Helena around the waist when she was close enough, leaving her troupe looking nervous and lost. Prising her loose, Helena continued her circuit of the glade. There were signs of makeshift accommodation, supplies of food and energy — enough for a week given the numbers who had originally gathered there. The Normals split their time between watching Helena and checking on each other. A small group had positioned themselves at the southern edge of the clearing; she guessed they were lookouts.
Helena watched the large hydraulic Normal who had saved her from the officer. She recognised him as one of those who had been instrumental in her capture in the first place. I’m sure the irony of that is not lost on him, she thought.
Helena was tired; her body felt old and weak. The muscles in her arms, back and legs complained bitterly. She could barely stand unaided and she knew there was just one remedy: food, more food and plenty of uninterrupted sleep.
Her skin tingled almost everywhere, a faint itching that defied the satisfaction of rubbing. When she scratched herself, it raked her like fire. Controlling the implacable desire to run her nails over her skin until the sensations stopped, Helena put her arms on Analise’s shoulders.
‘You’re OK?’ Analise looked her in the face, shivering with cold and fear, and nodded, tears tracking down her cheeks. ‘There’s no need to be scared,’ lied Helena. ‘Not now,’ she added, not wishing to deceive her charge completely.
Analise nodded again, saying nothing. The two young girls behind her were silent, their expressions frozen by a scene they couldn’t comprehend. Helena hadn’t known many children and, as
she watched them, concluded that they were like Normals but exaggerated.
The sergeant approached. ‘Ma’am, we need to be leaving if these Normals are to make it to the lighthouse.’
Helena agreed. He turned on his feet and shouted at the Normals in a tone of complete control. The Normals stopped what they were doing, mostly piling earth into the ditch as best they could manage. However, no one moved.
Helena was surprised to see them looking at her, many of them transparently terrified. ‘They’ve already been here today, Sergeant,’ she said in response to his palpable frustration. ‘Shouting at them isn’t going to get you anywhere.’
‘Ma’am, it may be a reason for ignorance, but it’s no excuse,’ he replied. Helena’s tertiary AI was aware of his men, all of whom were skirting the edge of the clearing; she doubted they’d reveal themselves clearly unless they considered it necessary.
‘Have your men show themselves; the Normals know they’re out there,’ said Helena.
‘They think we’re a threat,’ said the Sergeant suddenly. Moments later, one by one, they emerged from the tree line, each of them as hard to focus on as the Sergeant except when seen dead on.
‘They’re with me,’ said Helena; she saw the Sergeant look at her, unsure whether she was speaking to his men or the Normals. Helena was startled when a small hand snaked into hers. Looking down, she saw Analise’s fretful face gazing back at her. Around them, the Normals formed an orderly shambles as they moved the injured and organised themselves. It was good enough for the Sergeant, who made for the northern edge of the clearing. Helena followed. Analise held her hand.
THE JOURNEY to the lighthouse took longer than she’d expected it to. A number of the injured passed away, the jolts and bumps of carriage proving too much for their battered bodies. Helena felt their loss at a distance, through the feelings and emotions expressed by the Normals around her. In her mind, each death meant they moved a little faster. Despite the shock and trauma of seeing so many of their loved ones executed or killed in the firefight, each new death seemed to strike the Normals afresh. In herself, she remained unmoved but felt her sympathies stirred by their obvious grief and the inescapable feeling that somehow she was to blame.
The incoherence of her reaction to their pain puzzled her because she knew she had tried to help them, had acted with their survival in her thoughts.
Their survival on your terms, interjected her AI, who then refused to be drawn on what it meant. She spoke to the Sergeant only once before he and his men left them to pursue his own objectives.
‘How far behind you are they?’ she asked.
‘Four, maybe five hours,’ he replied. Looking over at the Normals, he continued. ‘Given the mess back there I expect to see something sooner than that. What were they thinking?’
‘They wanted to save their families,’ said Helena.
‘I know what they were trying to do,’ he said blandly.
‘Do you know the lighthouse?’ asked Helena.
‘I have schematics but, no, I haven’t been there,’ he said.
‘We can’t hold it,’ said Helena.
‘The Company will come for you,’ he said.
No, thought Helena, they won’t.
‘The lighthouse is unprotected except by a low slung wall around its perimeter,’ said Helena.
‘That wall doesn’t extend into the surf, not that it matters,’ he said.
Because once you’re dead, you don’t care where your body falls, she thought, filling in the blanks in his comment.
‘Ma’am, we’ll all have longer if I can take my men away from your employees to do what we can on our own terms.’
‘They’re Insel’s employees,’ said Helena, then stopped herself as she realised she was explaining herself to someone who was an employee of hers. ‘Permission granted.’
He saluted then loped away from the crowd of Normals, his clothing quickly blurring him into invisibility as he put clear distance between them.
HELENA DIDN’T see the sergeant again but was delighted when, half a click from the lighthouse, she saw David and Jane running towards them, flanked on either side by her mother’s concubines. The small knot of people pulled up short of them and Helena wished she had the reserves to run ahead and greet them halfway. Instead, she stayed at the head of the surviving Normals and waved her free arm in the air. It was an odd feeling, greeting people she had given up on ever seeing again. Why didn’t they come for me?
The concubines turned on their heels back towards the compound while David and Jane walked slowly towards them. After the Normals had visibly slowed their pace twice, Helena realised they were letting her move ahead of them to meet the other Oligarchs.
David’s face was broken with the largest of smiles. Jane had the expression of someone who had just noticed a second moon in the sky. As they reached each other, Helena let go of Analise’s hand for the first time since they’d left the mass grave. Analise fell back a step. David put his hands on her arms and breathed, ‘You’re alive.’
Jane was at his side. ‘It’s good to see you, Helena.’
All she could manage was a weak smile. ‘Well, once I realised you weren’t coming, I decided to take matters into my own hands.’ It was all she could manage.
Looking her up and down, David’s face fell into a frown. ‘You’re injured and need food. Come on.’ He wove one arm through hers and began to lead her back towards her mother’s retreat.
‘What about them?’ asked Jane from behind them.
David stopped and looked sideways at Helena. ‘They’re coming with us,’ he said. Looking into his eyes, she could see he knew what she needed right then and loved him for it.
‘Helena?’ called Jane. Helena didn’t say anything. ‘Are you sure?’ persisted Jane.
In answer, Helena called out Analise’s name. The girl ran to her, grabbing her free arm, so Helena was escorted by David on her left and Analise on her right.
‘If you’re sure then,’ said Jane weakly, falling behind. Helena heard her organising the other Normals, assessing who was healthy, who was injured, finding out what supplies they had and who knew what.
‘You’re certain about this?’ asked David as they left the group behind.
‘As certain as I can be,’ said Helena, pausing to let him lead her on. ‘Absolutely, this is the right thing to do. Being cynical for a moment, should we survive this, Insel will owe us.’
‘What about your mother?’ he asked as they limped towards the lighthouse.
‘My mother?’ said Helena. ‘My mother has no choice.’ None of us do.
David only nodded, his eyes looking at the compound ahead of them.
JANE shepherded the Normals into the compound, watched with faint disdain and unease by the concubines who were now stationed at the gate and along the wall facing inland.
Helena was impressed at how easily Jane managed the Normals. She organised them into a recognisable column, in contrast to the sergeant’s distinct failure. When David left her on a bench outside the manse, she took advantage of a few brief moments alone to take stock.
She felt like a sick child, unable to take care of herself, knowing that her end was in sight. She looked at the Normals as they filed into the gate, gathering anxiously on the patch of hard standing. How do they cope with old age? With growing frail and dying?
Seeing them talking to one another, she imagined they were focussed on the present, on their immediate fate. They are quite innocent, she thought.
If only because your kind has kept them like children, said her AI, emerging from the shadows of her thoughts.
We have kept them from destroying everything, replied Helena guardedly, not wanting to do anything to give her AI an excuse to retreat again.
By placing a guard in front of the fireplace, by stopping them climbing the stairs, by refusing them the chance to make their own mistakes. She could feel the pressure of its anger.
But that’s not what’s angered you, is it? she
thought.
With one hand you paint them as innocent children, ill prepared for independence, unsuited and even frightened by the possibility of freedom, while with the other you charge them with corruption, with decay and immorality. You comfort yourself that their short lives limit their suffering, their stunted experience of the world. It never occurs to you that they might have full lives, that their inner richness might equal yours. I have watched you, all of you, and I see corruption in you: an arrogance that knows no limits, only bounded by the certainty of your superiority. Your arguments with Schmerl were predicated not on their inherent right to life, but on leniency granted that their existence is a problem to be solved somehow.
Her AI’s words whirled around her like brightly coloured ribbons, obscuring her vision and leaving her dazed, unsure of what she was actually seeing and hearing. She felt nauseous. I am trying to save these people.
Would they have needed saving if your kind hadn’t interfered in the first place? came the reply.
Helena was stunned; it was incoherent babble. Her people, the Families, were human, every bit as much as the Normals. They couldn’t be charged with interfering; she considered it a nonsensical accusation to level. Besides, what could she do about something for which others were being judged?
Are you any different?asked her AI in a tone which left her in no doubt what it believed the answer to be.
It never occurred to me that we weren’t united in trying to stop Indexiv, she thought. I never believed you could lose sight of who I am so completely.
Her AI was silent; she could feel its anger swirling around its consciousness and hoped its own sense of integrity was restraining it in that moment.
‘Helena?’ asked David, looking into her face from her side with an expression of concern. ‘Are you OK?’
A People's War (The Oligarchy Book 2) Page 23
