Nova War

by Gary Gibson

  The metallic tones of Remembrance’s interpreter clashed with the moist clicking of his mouth-parts. ‘But, Alex, I’d hate for you to leave when we’ve still got so much to talk about.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Friends. Family. The smuggling of banned alien technology through Bandati-controlled space. The usual.’

  ‘You know, I figured all along you were the one who betrayed me. Someone used a Giantkiller to destroy the world I made, Remembrance, and you were one of those responsible for ensuring that device reached me in the first place.’

  ‘The technical term is “deep cover”, Alex. I was only performing my duty.’

  ‘Your “duty” murdered a lot of innocent people when the Rock was destroyed. How does that make you any better than me?’

  ‘I have no idea who activated the weapon. We wouldn’t even have known you were smuggling that kind of technology if we hadn’t been alerted by your attempt to illicitly acquire one of our liquid shields. When you look at the sheer length of the chain eventually leading to you, it’s hardly a surprise if a link happens to break. Tell me, how long have you known?’

  ‘About you? Long enough,’ Bourdain replied. ‘You were the weak link – the one whose story was a little too perfect, a little too contrived.’

  ‘But good enough while it lasted,’ Remembrance replied, keeping his shotgun trained on Bourdain. ‘I’m afraid it’s over, Alex.’

  Remembrance twisted around, changing his grip on his shotgun so he now held it like a club, and batted Honeydew’s shotgun out of the agent’s hands. It was still attached to Honeydew’s wrist by a loop, but Remembrance had bought himself precious moments, unless either Kapur or Mazower—

  He heard a pair of near-simultaneous clicks and turned to see the two bodyguards standing up, next to their kicked-over chairs, each training a handgun on him. Remembrance froze in mid-swing, and saw Bourdain’s grin spread a little wider.

  ‘You should have gone through the proper channels,’ Honeydew rasped, retrieving his shotgun back out from where it had slipped between two slats, but keeping his distance now.

  ‘Why? To give you even more time to warn Bourdain I was on my way?’

  ‘I want you to put your weapon down, and I want you to do it very softly, and very gently,’ Honeydew replied. ‘And then we’re going to talk. Remember what I told you: this is the last place you ever want to start a fire-fight.’

  Remembrance stood stock-still, considering his options. He was peripherally aware of motion at some distance and glanced sideways to see that the kitchen staff and the few remaining clientele were making their escape as quietly and carefully as possible.

  As if in response to the sudden tension in the air, a faint tremor rolled through the moist flesh underfoot. More small winged shapes erupted from the deep shadows in the upper reaches of the maul-worm’s interior, and there was a long exhalation of air from the darker reaches of the cave further in that bordered on a low animal moan.

  Honeydew’s wings twitched nervously as they all waited to see if anything more happened, but the tremor faded after a few moments and then there was nothing. Remembrance noticed the fleeing staff and customers had all frozen in place, somewhat comically, once the maul-worm had started twitching. They started moving again a little more quickly once it looked like they were in less danger. A few cast frightened glances towards the tableau of armed Bandati and humans, all apparently intent on killing each other in the most volatile environment possible.

  Remembrance spun his shotgun back around, training it once more on Bourdain, who rolled his eyes and shook his head at the same time. ‘I think I made it clear I wasn’t going to do anything of the kind.’

  ‘Be sensible, Remembrance, and surrender your weapon. Pull that trigger and there’s a good chance we’ll all wind up dead.’

  ‘And if I don’t, what? You’ll shoot me?’ The situation was patently ridiculous. ‘And how exactly is that any better?’

  Bourdain stood up, the smile vanished from his face. He spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Nobody said anything about shooting you or anyone else. We just want to talk, perhaps come to an agreement of some kind – one that benefits us all.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ Remembrance replied drily, ‘but unfortunately, your reputation rather precedes you. We both know I’m dead the instant I put this shotgun down.’

  He lowered the barrel of his shotgun until it was poking down between two slats and at the floor formed by the maul-worm’s gullet. He made sure they could all see his finger was ready on the trigger. ‘You just can’t take the chance I might come after you again, if I’m allowed to live. Better to have me die in a place like this, somewhere that’s inherently accident-prone. And the last thing Honey dew wants is for himself to be exposed as being linked to a high-tech smuggling operation. So, no, I really don’t think I want to put this shotgun down.’

  ‘Wait.’ Bourdain stepped around the table. ‘Just wait a goddamn minute. There are ways and means to sort this out, so nobody move and remember where we are. Nobody. Move. An inch.’

  Remembrance pushed the barrel of his shotgun down into the moist surface of the worm’s gullet, as hard as he could. His earlier terror had temporarily abandoned him, replaced by a kind of mania he could neither understand nor identify.

  Almost at once, a breathy moan emerged from deep inside the cave, accompanied by a low rumbling they all felt more than heard. Honeydew’s wings spasmed involuntarily, as if they wished to carry him somewhere far away. Kapur and Mazower looked like they were both on the verge of fleeing.

  It occurred to Remembrance that in all the intelligent species he had so far encountered, the one universal trait they shared was a deep aversion to being eaten alive by something bigger than themselves.

  ‘Stop right there,’ came a voice from directly behind Remembrance.

  ‘Hugh Moss,’ said Remembrance, recalling the cadaverous shadow he’d glimpsed through a screen. He cursed himself for letting his attention slip. ‘I had a feeling it was you. Aren’t you supposed to be dead?’

  ‘I am dead,’ came the voice, sounding as lifeless as dry and brittle bones. ‘I died and was reborn. Let go your weapon, little fly, before I cut off your wings.’

  Remembrance turned to see Moss standing there. Like a graveyard ghoul come to life, a Consortium agent had once described the man.

  Remembrance had not known what a ghoul was, and had never been in a graveyard, so he’d had to research the phrase before he understood the agent’s meaning. But Moss now looked far ghastlier than on any previous encounter: his face was discoloured and heavily scarred, showing all the signs of recent violence. More pertinently, he was holding a long, curved knife close to the ligature of one of Remembrance’s wings.

  The knife gleamed wickedly in the dim light of the glow-globes. It was, Remembrance knew, no ordinary weapon. Rapid vibrations rolled through the blade at the touch of an unseen switch, vastly increasing its capacity to maim and kill. Moss had demonstrated its use once, by slicing a deep groove into a stone wall with apparently very little effort. Remembrance fingered the shotgun’s trigger, tight under one long, narrow finger. The tiniest motion would send a bullet pumping into the soft, vulnerable flesh beneath the platform. ‘I have a better idea,’ he said, unable to take his eyes off the shimmering blade. ‘We’re going to talk about Mr Bourdain’s surrender, or I’m going to make this monster very, very upset.’

  Nobody responded at first; Moss made no move. He’s bluffing, Remembrance decided, staring at the man’s disfigured features. He knows what’d happen to us all if he tried to do anything.

  Remembrance slowly pushed the barrel of his shotgun deeper into the maul-worm’s flesh. Almost immediately another tremor, worse this time, sent the platform trembling beneath them.

  ‘I meant it, Alex. Call him off

  Bourdain, pale and clearly terrified, stepped closer. ‘Hugh! Move away. Now!’

  Out of the corner of his eye, Remembrance saw Mos
s take a reluctant step backwards. The immense surreality of the situation came to him: two species trapped inside a third, and caught in a stand-off. He found himself having to constantly shift his attention between the five individuals facing him – Honeydew, Bourdain, Moss, and the two guards – all waiting for the moment they could safely disarm and kill him.

  One against five – or six, if you included the maul-worm.

  ‘You’re right,’ Bourdain said. ‘I’m a fugitive. So let Honeydew here arrest me.’

  ‘So your friends in Immortal Light can help you disappear? I don’t think so. This way we keep it public and in the open. It’s obvious to half of Darkwater there’s a major security operation taking place up here. And besides, my Queen desires answers. Answers that I intend to find for her.’

  ‘All right, I understand,’ Bourdain replied, a wheedling tone in his voice. ‘Moss, put your knife away. Rachel, Toby, I want you to put your guns down on the table. Remembrance here is going to place us under arrest. I—’

  Bourdain’s gaze flicked past Remembrance and towards Moss with an expression of alarm. Remembrance turned just in time to see Moss slashing towards him with the blade. Remembrance hit the ground and rolled, his shotgun coming free at the same time, but not before he felt the blade slice across the flesh that separated his upper set of wings.

  He chittered in pain and felt his finger tighten around the trigger, sending two bullets up into the roof of the maul-worm’s gullet.

  The maul-worm screamed.

  The sound began far away as a raw and breathy escalation that soon erupted into a hurricane of rotten-meat stench from the deepest recesses of the monster’s innards. Remembrance felt a horrified fascination as a wave of peristaltic motion rushed towards them from deeper within the mountainside, heaving the platform up beneath them and sending tables and glow-globes flying.

  Remembrance glimpsed Moss’s knife where it had slipped between two of the slats, its blade still active and vibrating, slowly sinking out of sight as it dug a deep raw wound in the floor of the maul-worm’s gullet, sending chunks of meat and blood spitting upwards in the process. He looked around wildly, but there was no sign of Moss. He was gone.

  He’d seen the look on Bourdain’s face when Moss had slashed him. That hadn’t been part of their plan; Remembrance felt sure of it. For some reason, Moss had wanted him to pull the trigger. He felt sure of it.

  As for Bourdain and the two bodyguards, they were desperately trying to pick their way through the wreckage of the platform, which had shattered beneath them. Honey dew had already taken flight, flapping upwards and slaloming erratically from side to side as he tried to work out which way the exit lay. What little light there was now flickered and danced wildly as the few surviving glow-globes rolled and bounced across the floor of the cave.

  Remembrance reached down and retrieved Moss’s vibrating knife before it sank completely out of sight. He re-sheathed his shotgun onto his harness and himself took flight, pushing upwards despite the thinness of the damp meaty air, and narrowly avoided a slender tentacle that shot down from the roof of the cave and tried to wrap itself around his neck. He tore himself away from it in a panic and most of the tentacle came with him, before unravelling itself and falling to the ground below.

  The ceiling dropped suddenly and Remembrance swooped lower in his panicked flight, grabbing hold of one of the metal poles that dotted the maul-worm’s interior. He saw Tobias Mazower stumble and fall as the maul-worm’s gullet rippled crazily under him. The man started crawling towards the exit, just as another long tentacle shot down, snagging the bodyguard around the ankle. It began pulling him upwards and he screamed as it tugged at him, but after a moment the tentacle released him.

  Mazower scrambled away in terror, but Remembrance could see that the bodyguard had become disoriented by the flickering shadows, and was moving away from the exit rather than towards it. The interior of the restaurant was becoming noticeably narrower as the worm’s body began constricting.

  As Remembrance watched, another wave of peristaltic motion – much more violent this time – rolled out of the darkness and flipped Mazower upwards and backwards, before carrying him out of sight, and deep into those moist, inky depths . . .

  A shot whined past Remembrance’s head, almost catching him in one wing. He glided over to another pole and saw Bourdain taking unsteady aim as he and Rachel Kapur tried to fight their way on towards the monster’s mouth. Then the floor of the maul-worm’s gullet rose up beneath him, and he almost lost his grip on his gun.

  There was no sign of Honey dew, so Remembrance felt sure the traitorous security chief had already made his escape. The floor of the restaurant now looked more like a turbulent sea than anything else, waves of shuddering motion cascading through the monster’s body that nothing could possibly stand upright on.

  Remembrance took flight once more, sailing over Bourdain’s head, his wings brushing against first one side and then the other of the cave. The monster’s mouth was beginning to close, slowly cutting off the one remaining sliver of fading daylight as the steel poles that had been propping the mouth open began to buckle and snap. Remembrance shot through the narrowing gap between the rows of stubby teeth, feeling them scrape against his wings as he tumbled through.

  He slammed into a cave wall just outside and looked back, glimpsing Bourdain and Kapur, wide-eyed disbelief on both their faces as the maul-worm’s lips finally clamped shut right before them with a final breathy exhalation.

  He stared in disgust as the maul-worm’s body suddenly peeled itself away from the walls of the cave that had sheltered it for centuries, transforming into a giant, pale tube of writhing flesh that wriggled backwards into the depths of the mountain, its body scraping noisily against the surrounding rock as it went.

  You still have Honeydew to deal with, Remembrance reminded himself.

  Right now, staying alive was still his number-one priority.

  Somewhere out there, beyond the mouth of the cave, there was an entire world of enemies, citizens of a rival Hive that he suspected had just developed an overwhelming desire to see him dead. Fortunately he still had Moss’s knife firmly gripped in one hand, with his shotgun and pistol secure on his harness within easy reach.

  He took a moment to think and to assess the damage so far. He didn’t know how bad the wound on his back was but, since he’d managed to fly his way out of the maul-worm, it probably wasn’t much more than a flesh-wound. Sheer terror had overwhelmed any pain he might have felt. There were biomonitors built into his harness, but all they told him was what he already knew, that he’d lost some blood and was suffering from severe stress.

  Unfortunately, however, he was still losing blood. Every time he reached behind him and between his wings, his hand came away wet and slick, and he didn’t have any medical patches handy.

  However, the current state of peaceful détente between the two Hives meant that his own Hive of Darkening Skies was allowed to maintain a small, albeit token, military force on Ironbloom. Remembrance activated a harness-mounted emergency beacon that would help them locate him – and, given what he now knew, certainly bring that state of happy détente to a rapid end.

  Remembrance peered out from the gloom and saw that the batteries of defensive weapons were now pointing towards the mouth of the cave, rather than away from it. The Darkwater war-dirigible that had brought him to the mountain was now floating barely a few metres above the ledge that lay immediately beyond the cave mouth, a looming silhouette with the bright lights of the city’s highest towers reflected on the polished under-surface of its gondola.

  My Queen of Darkening Skies. I am ever your faithful servant, but this unworthy one prays for some very heavily armed back-up, and soon.

  Remembrance heard just the faintest shout as he peered out from the cave, and a moment later the ground right in front of him exploded, blasting a crater out of the smooth rock. He cried out and stumbled backwards, falling over sharp-edged rocks deeper within the cav
e entrance as a rain of gravel came pouring down. Pain lanced through his back, between his wings, just as he heard a loud rumbling from deeper inside the cave . . .

  There wasn’t time to think. Remembrance took flight at once, spreading his wings and soaring out of the cave entrance and into the open air beyond. He could barely maintain height in the thin mountain air, and was supernaturally aware of the automatic weaponry tracking him as he flew straight towards the war-dirigible.

  He passed over the heads of several Bandati security agents scattered across the mountaintop, all clad in grey weapons-harnesses. He also caught sight of Honeydew on the ledge and to one side, recognizable by his distinctive wing-patterning.

  His flight sent him slamming hard into one of the war-dirigible’s several close-packed gas cells and he immediately began to claw his way up on top of them, gripping onto the tough netting that held the cells in place. He caught a glimpse of more Immortal Light agents leaning out over the side of the gondola suspended below and now peering up at him, their rifles unsheathed.

  Remembrance kept climbing until he was on top of the gas cells, while angry chittering sounded from below. They weren’t going to shoot at him while he was on the dirigible itself.

  Probably not, anyway.

  He crawled to the edge of one of the gas cells and looked back down, just in time to see the maul-worm explode from the mouth of the cave.

  For something that had been so sedentary for most of its life, the monster moved with remarkable speed, its parted jaws letting out a scream of pain, or anger, carried on a gust of its rotten breath. It slammed down on top of some of the unwary Immortal Light agents who had been waiting for Remembrance himself. He watched in a daze as a few of them, taken too much by surprise to even begin to escape, were swallowed up in the creature’s vast mouth.

  Clearly somebody still had the gumption to take command, because a moment later the dusk skies lit up as a storm of directed fire fell on the creature. It reacted by ramming into the side of the war-dirigible. Remembrance scrambled backwards, terrified both of being swallowed up by that enormous mouth and of being targeted if he abandoned his perch.