Iron Gods

by Andrew Bannister

  ‘Hufsza!’ Seldyan dropped to her knees beside him, reaching for his neck.

  There was no pulse.

  She watched the curled-up body for a second. Then her eyes blurred. She shook her head and raised her hand to the comms bead. ‘Guys? Hufsza’s gone.’

  ‘Gone? Gone how?’

  ‘Dead.’ She managed to keep her voice level while she explained. Then, without really knowing why, she added: ‘I’m sorry.’

  For a moment there was no response. Then Merish was on line. ‘Sel? Keep focused. Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll do.’

  ‘Okay. Listen, you have some work to do. There’s chaos, but that could help you out … Are you listening?’

  ‘Yes!’ She hadn’t been, she realized. She stood up. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Right. Wait. Wait … now go. Straight ahead, a hundred metres …’

  Half an hour of directions later she was backed into a shallow gap where one building didn’t quite stand level to another. She was covered in sweat that obviously had nothing to do with fear, and her injured shoulder had turned to ice except when she moved it, when it became a white-hot shaft with an almost-useless arm on the end of it. She thought she could feel something grating when she moved it. She kept the ship stunner cradled in her other hand.

  Apart from that, and the exhaustion, and the not thinking about Hufsza, she was fine. The square was a wreck, though. She tapped the bead. ‘Where now? Things are looking busy here.’

  It was an understatement. She was close to the area where she and Hufsza, a lifetime ago, had watched people giving hot food to street kids with missing limbs. It had troubled her at the time but it seemed like paradise, looking back.

  Everyone on the broad street was either running or chasing. Some people had proper weapons, but many more had improvised with sharp things or heavy things or hot things. She doubted the stunner would be much help, if it came to it.

  Merish spoke in her ear. ‘You need to get underneath the deck. There are service ducts. The nearest is about three hundred metres from you. How easily can you move around?’

  She almost laughed. ‘I can move okay. It’s just the stuff that might happen while I’m moving that bothers me.’

  ‘Okay. Hold on a second.’

  It took longer than a second but less than a minute. Then he was back. ‘Sel? The ship’s got an idea. If we create a really big distraction, can you get to the duct?’

  ‘I guess. Where do I go?’

  ‘Head to your right. A hundred metres straight, then left. I’ll guide you. Don’t go yet. You’ll know when.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Believe me, you’ll know.’

  Ten seconds later, the sky lit up. Seldyan felt her mouth drop open. Before, there had been just stars and the bright smear of the Arch. Now, there was … everything. Bands and spots and fleeting explosions of vivid colour flickered above her in a brilliantly garish parade that bounced the whole visible spectrum off upturned faces. A few people cowered; most just stared.

  Seldyan ran. Nobody tried to stop her. She counted a hundred paces and dived to her left down a narrow entrance between tall dull-looking buildings. The walls were only a few metres apart, so that she ran down a black ribbon with a roof of riotous colour.

  ‘Stop.’

  She skidded to a halt. ‘What now?’

  ‘Nearly there. What can you see?’

  ‘Fuck all. It’s dark.’ She thought for a moment and added sarcastically, ‘Can the ship arrange a searchlight?’

  ‘No, but have you got the stunner?’

  ‘Sure.’ She hefted it. ‘So what?’

  ‘Slap it twice.’

  She stared at the little ovoid. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Okay.’ Feeling rather foolish, she smacked the little gun a couple of times. It lit up, with a soft yellowish glow that was bright enough to illuminate the walls of her chasm, but not so bright it dazzled. She nodded, and looked around, holding the little thing out in front of her. ‘Merish? This looks like a dead end.’

  ‘It isn’t. Go to the end.’

  She walked carefully; the light from the glowing stunner illuminated forward but created a pool of darkness round her feet, and the flickering light leaking down from above her head was beginning to make her feel sick. She tapped the bead. ‘Guys? That light show isn’t healthy.’

  ‘It isn’t meant to be. Be glad you’re mainly in the dark. Can you see the end of the alley yet?’

  She peered forward. ‘Yes. It just looks like a blank wall.’

  ‘Touch it.’

  She held out her hand. Then she jumped back.

  ‘Shit!’

  It was no longer blank. Even before her hand had touched it, the surface had lit up with warning symbols. She studied them. ‘Okay, I see it,’ she said slowly. ‘The two I recognize mean radiation and a big energy source.’

  ‘Clever girl. The ship’s going to open it.’

  ‘Oh good.’

  For a second nothing happened. Then the symbols faded and a door-sized section of wall slid sideways. Inside there was a plain metal shaft, about twice the width of her shoulders. Shallow hoops set into the far wall made a ladder that went up as well as down. Fat cables the diameter of legs snaked down both sides. She bent forward so her head was inside the shaft, and heard a low burring hum. ‘Merish? Hear that? What the fuck is this?’

  ‘Service duct. Up leads to one of the shield generators. Down leads through the deck to the power level.’

  She nodded. ‘Is down the same as out?’

  ‘That’s right. Try not to touch the cables.’

  ‘I promise.’ She leaned further in, let herself fall forward until her hands caught on a rung. Then she emptied her lungs and stepped off the edge, swinging forward so her body fell against the far wall. Her shoulder howled at her while feet scrabbled and caught. When she was sure she wouldn’t use it to scream with, she took a careful breath. ‘Okay, I’m in.’

  ‘So down you go. It’s about forty metres to the machine deck.’

  She began to climb down. Her injured shoulder wouldn’t take any weight so she transferred the stunner to that hand and used the other to steady herself, stepping awkwardly down one rung at a time.

  She counted steps. Guessing at three to a metre she had about one hundred to go. After a while she found a rhythm. Step one foot down; let go of the rung above her and catch the one below before her body had time to fall outwards; step the other foot down. Take one breath. Do it again.

  At seventy steps she paused, hooking her arm through a rung and letting herself hang. The air in the shaft was flat and stale and her chest felt tight, and the sound of her heart knocking in her ears competed with the edgy hum from the cables. The beat seemed slower than she would have expected.

  Then she swore.

  It wasn’t her heart. The soft concussions were coming from above her.

  She tapped the bead and began to descend again. ‘Merish? Did you shut the door to the duct?’

  ‘Yes! What … oh, shit.’

  She nodded to herself. ‘There’s someone, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yeah. Two, not one. They must have known the code. Seldyan, I am so sorry …’

  ‘Not your fault.’ She was trying to match the speed of the steps from above her, and she didn’t have breath for long sentences. ‘Be there when I get to the bottom.’

  ‘We’re there already.’

  She didn’t say anything else. Foot, let go, catch, foot. She couldn’t go faster, but it wasn’t fast enough. Whoever it was was catching her.

  Then the sounds changed as if someone had broken their stride. There was a quick, greedy crackle, and then suddenly the stunner gave an angry buzz and glowed, climbing fast through red to yellow-hot. She had time for one yelp of agony before her reflexes jerked her useless arm in an awkward movement like a child throwing something under-arm. The flaming stunner tumbled upwards past her head, hung for a second at the top of its arc –
and brushed against the fat bunch of cables.

  It stuck, in a smoking hiss of burned insulation. Then it flared. Seldyan buried her face in her shoulder and waited for whatever came next.

  The explosion almost broke her grip. Even through her closed eyes her world had flashed yellow, and her ears banged and chimed and whistled. Everything smelled hot and sort of cooked.

  She opened her eyes very slowly.

  In front of her the wall of the duct was lit up by a flickering yellow light. From above her came an intermittent buzzing that kept time with the flickering. She looked up carefully and winced.

  There were two bodies, only about five metres above her. One had been blown back against the wall of the duct by the explosion – it lay there propped, with both stiff legs braced against the rungs on the opposite wall. The second was still gripping the ladder fiercely with one arm; its other arm was wrapped convulsively round the cables like a lover. The body was smoking slightly.

  Seldyan looked away. She managed to get a hand to her ear. ‘Merish? I think I had a lucky accident. What can you see?’

  The reply took a moment. ‘Um, not much near you. Half a minute ago there was a power spike in your duct, then the breakers went out. The machine deck keeps trying to restart the power. Should I stop it?’

  She looked up briefly. ‘No, don’t. I think it’s doing something useful.’ She took a deep breath of the foul air and almost gagged. ‘I’m on my way down. Not so much rush now.’

  Ten minutes of slow steps later she was standing on a checkerplate floor at the bottom of the duct. The door in front of her looked like the one she had come through at the top of her descent, except for the warning symbols. They were much bigger, and they didn’t fade when she drew back her hand.

  She frowned. ‘Merish? What’s on the other side of this?’

  ‘The machine deck. Electrical things, mechanical things. The reactor pod.’

  ‘Right. That pod? How safe is it?’

  ‘Fairly. People do come down here. I’ll guide you.’

  The door slid back. She lifted a foot to step through and then froze, mentally playing back her hearing. She was right; there had been a noise. It had come from further up the ladder.

  She looked up.

  The figure was two metres above her. As she completed her movement, it pushed itself away from the ladder and dropped.

  She had time to half turn, pointing her crippled shoulder towards the exit and ducking a little sideways so that the falling body glanced down her side. The impact simultaneously pushed her to her knees and drove her towards the exit so that she found herself rolling awkwardly out into the machine deck. The roll sent her injured shoulder to the ground beneath her; she felt another crack and pain burst open within her. She had time for one shriek before a foot slammed into her side and the breath whistled out of her.

  She heard Merish saying something but she didn’t bother with it. Something animal in her took control. She turned her head towards the direction of the kick and managed to skitter backwards to evade the next. The foot arced past her and she grabbed it and twisted. This time the pain made her retch but she had caught the attacker by surprise – he went down with his other leg folded underneath him. She heard him grunt, and for a moment he didn’t move. Then he lifted himself, swaying, on to all fours and raised his head to look at her.

  Half his face was missing, replaced by red and black char which went through his cheek to show gums burned through to the bone with teeth, ridiculously long, hanging from them. She could smell cooked meat.

  With half of her mind she registered a voice in her ear. ‘Sel? Report! Are you attacked?’ Merish sounded panicked.

  ‘Yes. How close are you?’

  ‘The other side of an airlock. Three minutes, fastest.’

  She thought as fast as her fuzzy head would allow. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘That should do. Talk soon.’ Then, hoping the hint had been taken, she looked at the man who was still crouching a few metres away. ‘Not long to wait.’

  He grinned, and she watched as blood drooled from the destruction of his mouth. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Any minute now, I’m sure. How fast can you run? I think you are injured.’

  ‘And you aren’t?’ She shook her head. ‘This is going to end badly.’

  He didn’t answer, but she saw the flicker in his remaining eye and threw herself to one side as he sprang forwards. His attack ended where she had been; she had not moved far, and they were closer now.

  She studied his face. Every expression seemed to tear his flesh. Blood and saliva were running from the remains of his mouth in a continuous thread. On an impulse she said, ‘You’re going to die here.’

  He nodded, grinning, and she watched the pink thread from his face making a pattern on the metal deck. ‘So? So are you, maybe.’

  ‘So, why?’

  But his face closed. ‘No. No stories.’ Then he leapt like a predator.

  This time she was ready. He was still in the air when her good arm swept round; even as his weight bore her to the floor and his arms reached round for her, her clenched knuckles jabbed up and into his neck.

  Something crunched.

  He landed on top of her, his face just overshooting a kiss so that his nose crashed against her forehead with another crunch, somehow managing to maintain the pose of a four-limbed animal caught in mid-pounce. At first she thought he was already dead, but then the weight on her moved a little and she heard a shallow rasp. She lifted her good shoulder and levered him up so that he rolled off her like a drunken lover.

  His nose was gushing blood now, and she reached up to her forehead and felt an answering wetness.

  Something in her wrenched and broke. She knelt by his not-quite-corpse and stroked a bit of his cheek that still had skin. ‘Time to go? Is that what you want?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Okay. But know this – I’m going to end the story that made you do this. Deal?’

  He nodded again, and this time she thought she saw an answering thought in the remaining eye.

  His neck was still upturned. She drew back her hand.

  Five minutes later Kot roused her. ‘Sel? Are you okay?’

  She looked at her knuckles. They were bruised and swollen, as if she had used them to hit something many, many times.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. Then, as sensation began to seep into her world, she added, ‘But I think there’s something wrong with my shoulder.’

  She tried to show Kot but the pain came, and she was borne away on the wings of her own scream.

  She remembered waking once, and being surrounded by faces. She smiled up at them. ‘How am I doing?’

  ‘Try not to move.’ It wasn’t reassuring; she made a mental note to be angry with whoever it was had said that.

  Merish. That was the name. She exerted herself. ‘Why not move?’

  ‘Because you have a broken shoulder and a broken collarbone. Apparently you managed to win a fight in spite of them.’

  She felt a smile changing her face. ‘I did, yeah. Don’t fuck with me. Hufsza’ll tell you.’ She looked round the circle of faces, vaguely aware that something was terribly wrong. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Go to sleep, Seldyan.’ She didn’t like taking orders, even from Merish, but there was something about this one that was unfightable. She went to sleep.

  It was okay, she told herself with her last thought. She would find out about Huf when she woke up.

  Web City Administrative Space – Arch Third Quadrant

  SUCK ON THIS watched the receding ship with something close to shock. If it had been human, it would have blinked.

  It had had time for a vast exchange of information with the thing, whole planets’ worth of data – and more than a little acrimony – in the time it had taken the human to issue its glacial admonishment. It had learned everything it needed to know. Until now it had been assuming it was alone in the Spin; now it knew it had at least one peer.

  Someone had found and awakene
d another of its original cohort. And of all ships, it had to have been that one – which was nothing if not adventurous, and which was now on a mission of its own.

  By contrast, Suck on This had always been very much at the cautious end of the spectrum as far as its kind went. It examined a number of different courses of action, modelling multiple outcomes, allowing as far as it could for the grandly decayed state of the local tech level, for the fragmented condition of the many small stakeholder groups, for the sheer brittleness of the geopolitics of the Arch (a new religion? Really?) and the astonishing fact that everyone seemed simply to have forgotten what had gone on around here.

  Inter alia, it felt a sense of responsibility. That came with power, of course, and it was nothing new. It, and its kind, had been built to be the most powerful units possible. To be a deterrent, internal and external; to provide a measured surety in every situation. And, of course, to act as a counterbalance in case other, less measured forces were ever released. It had happened at least once, before their time; it was never to happen again.

  Most of them had never even been used. They had slept through the millennia, hidden away.

  But now the wheels were coming off, and coming off a vastly diminished and disempowered set of societies. What had already been overmatching power those ten thousand years ago, was now disproportionate. Overwhelming, in fact.

  It was in the position of a parent with a crowd of unruly children. No, it was worse than that. It was near to being a God, with a chittering horde of armpit-scratching primitives.

  It mentally shook itself. That was not a wholesome attitude; but nevertheless, the conclusion that it implied was still sound, especially now it knew it was not the only player.

  The Arch was the clue. Someone had tried to build a planet, and it hadn’t worked – but that meant that somehow, someone had got hold of a machine with planet-building capabilities, and that meant that the Archive had been compromised, although its peer ship had been tight-lipped about that. Whatever; the old safety would be gone very soon, no matter what it did. Better to end it at a time it chose, and with some kind of route map to the next thing.

  And so the most cautious ship in the cohort comes to the most radical conclusion, it thought. But there you are. Nothing if not logical.