Iron Gods

by Andrew Bannister

  The lead runner, a red streak already heading for the second turn, was Changeling. On the way into the turn he had opened up an arm’s length over the rest, which in runner-world was a huge margin. He came out of the turn and accelerated down the long straight that ran past Caphraime II, his feet kicking up a cloud of track-sand.

  The announcer’s voice was just audible above the crowd.

  ‘… unbelievable pace! The first ten chains in under seven, from a standing start! The second in six! And the third! Changeling from Late Comer from Zodiac, but the red looks uncatchable. Wait; what?’

  The sound of the crowd changed, and Vess felt his heart jump.

  Changeling was no longer on the track. He had been on the inside, already a single vast stride ahead of the pack; now he veered away, crossing the path of his pursuers so that the leaders broke their own strides to avoid him. They were packed too closely and the front three went down, scoring gouts of sand out of the track. The rest of the pack went over them.

  But the red runner was clear of them, clear of the track. Without slowing at all he crossed the dead strip between the track and tiered seats, and then he leapt, clearing the first row and springing off the back of the second, still faster than any normal human could sprint. Some of the audience scrambled out of his path. A few reached out to catch him but they were too slow, flailing and grasping at nothing.

  The crowd were quiet. Vess could hear shouts from somewhere. Some of them sounded like orders. Most of them had the high edge of panic.

  He looked up. Caphraime II was still near the front of the box, her arms defensively outstretched towards the body that was hurtling towards her. Or-Shls was no longer beside her; Vess thought he saw the man backing away. Then Caphraime II seemed to stumble forwards, and at the same time with a final leap the runner flicked himself up to the rail at the edge of the box, grasped the outstretched hand, braced his legs against the edge of the box, and sprang up and outwards, dragging Caphraime II over the rail.

  Even from the other side of the stadium, Vess heard her shriek.

  For a vanishingly brief moment the two bodies were in the air over the Stadium. Then there was a sharp explosion and they became an angrily expanding cloud of red and black.

  Vess instinctively shut his eyes. Something hot and wet sprayed across his face, and he heard screams.

  Then he felt his arms seized. He opened his eyes but he couldn’t see anything; at first there was only smoke and then the stuff running down his face stung him and he screwed his eyes shut again. As he did so he felt a hard blow across the fronts of his shins. It took his legs out from under him and he landed face-down with a sickening impact that seemed to break everything all at once.

  The force of it drove the breath out of him. For a long second he lay, his arms still pinned. Then he felt something pushed into the small of his back and a voice close to him said:

  ‘Someone wants to see you.’

  The something became a source of agony that soared up the scale until it became all of him. Then there was nothing.

  Geostationary Orbit, Green Planet

  THEY WERE SITTING on the outer edge of a wooden platform, suspended over what looked like a five-kilometre drop. According to that scale the snowline lay almost four kilometres below them, and the tree-line just below that. It turned out that the ship could reconfigure its internal spaces at pretty short notice, and had a good line in eye-deceiving special effects.

  Seldyan had selected Mountains because she had never seen one, and the ship had obliged with vigour. It had also provided a local temperature bubble. Outside it, the wooden rails were a finger’s breadth deep in rime frost which was actually real. Inside it, the air was just pleasantly crisp enough to make her want to sip the hot infusions that appeared by her hand every time she waved her fingers. Each one tasted slightly different. She was having to pace herself. The scene in front of her was too interesting to allow for constantly going for a pee.

  The really interesting bit didn’t look like mountains. The ship had kept a section of the false sky clear for viewing screens. They were at a dead stop just over half a second out from the green planet, and at natural scale it filled the screens and lit up the fake mountains with a sickly green. The beam of light that had lased the atmosphere in the first place still poured into it. It looked to Seldyan as if it ought to make a fizzing noise.

  The odd thing about the planet had been obvious for several days.

  ‘It’s artificial, obviously,’ Merish had said, when they were close enough to be sure. ‘Okay, this is the Spin. So what? Everything’s artificial. But this is weird even by Spin standards. It’s a gas giant with an atmosphere full of helium and neon. It’s a special-purpose world. No inhabitants, no minerals, no nothing. One use only – to go green when you hit it with the right energy. And, it’s not one of the original eighty-nine.’

  ‘Really?’ Seldyan had frowned at the screen, which was then showing a green ball the size of a fist. ‘Why would anyone do that?’

  He had shrugged. And now, when they were as close as the old ship felt comfortable, they were still shrugging, but this time they were looking at the other end of the beam.

  Seldyan jabbed a finger at it. ‘Are you sure?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. Or, well, the ship is sure, and I’ve learned to trust it. The green planet has a wobble in its orbit, which would match the effect of another smaller planet located around the end of that beam of light.’

  ‘Right.’ She glared at the point on the screen where the green shaft disappeared into nothing. Or, better, arose out of it. ‘I guess I assumed there must be some kind of generator there. I wasn’t expecting a whole planet. A whole invisible one. Is that extra to the eighty-nine as well?’

  ‘Seems so. Whoever did whatever they did here, cared enough about it to create two brand-new planets.’

  ‘Uh-huh. That’s a lot of caring. Can this ship land on planets?’

  He laughed. ‘Only once, and there’d be a lot of clearing up. Besides,’ and he stopped smiling, ‘I think it’s afraid.’

  She blinked. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yeah. Someone hid a planet from it. It can work out the thing’s there because of gravity, but all its other senses just see a hole in space. That implies a level of technology higher than its own, and that makes it nervous.’

  ‘It makes me nervous too. Is there any way we can get down to the surface?’

  He looked at her, his face serious. ‘Of the hidden planet?’

  ‘Well, yes. Not the green one. I don’t want to get lased, or whatever you call it.’

  ‘Lased will do … there’s a couple of gigs. They could make a landing. On a good day they might get back off again. Seldyan, are you serious about this?’

  ‘Yeah. Completely.’ She stood up and faced him. ‘Three things. First, this green light stuff is making a mess of Oblong. That place is supposed to be our new world, Merish. I don’t want to be cheated out of it. Second, a planet-sized green light in the sky? That says “come here” as loudly as I need. And third, think about it. They, whoever they were, hid that planet as well as they could – except they didn’t fix the gravity thing. Doesn’t that send you a message?’

  He nodded slowly. ‘It could. It could say “smart people apply here”, or it could say “we hid this planet because it’s lethal”. You choose.’

  She smiled. ‘I already have. So, where are these gigs?’

  The gigs were in the far corner of one of the smaller weapons pods. If you took a sphere just big enough to accommodate a human in the foetal position, and then scaled it up by twenty-five per cent to include some power cells, a use-it-twice-and-scrap-it engine and a short-term life support unit, you had it.

  Seldyan was trying not to look doubtful. She kicked the gig. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No I’m not. You were the one who sounded all certain. Look, why don’t you talk to the ship?’

  Before she had time to respond, she became aware of the ship’s switch-on no
ise. The old voice sounded crisper, somehow.

  ‘All other things being equal, the gig would make one successful return journey to the surface of a planet such as the one we theorize here.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘All other things being equal?’

  ‘Yes. This planet is shielded in ways I cannot penetrate. It may also be defended in ways I can neither predict nor negate.’

  ‘Thanks for the encouragement.’ She kicked the nearest gig again; it made a flat thud. Keeping her eyes turned from Merish she said, ‘I’m going to do this.’

  ‘I know. I want to come with you.’

  She turned quickly towards him, shaking her head. ‘You stay here.’

  ‘No chance, Sel.’

  They faced each other for a moment. Then Seldyan reached out and took his hand. ‘I can’t tell you what to do. But if you go, I stay.’

  He began to protest but she raised her free hand, palm outwards. ‘If you go I stay,’ she repeated, ‘because one of us needs to stay up here, but if it’s me then that’s the wrong way round. Something’s going to go wrong down there, and whoever that happens to, they’re going to need someone intelligent up here; someone who can understand things. That’s you, Merish, remember? I’m the one who does people, and there’ll be people down there. Probably.’

  He shrugged. ‘What if there are things down there as well as people?’

  ‘Then I’ll ask your advice. Come on, Merish, you know I’m right. I’ll need you up here to unplug me from whatever crap I get plugged into.’

  He held her eyes for a bit longer, then turned away and ran a hand over his face. ‘Have it your way. But,’ and he faced her again, ‘you’re going to put in a couple of hours’ practice in that thing before you go. And yes, that is me telling you what to do.’

  She laughed. ‘Don’t make it a habit.’

  ‘Fuck off, Seldyan.’

  ‘You’re doing it again.’

  He turned away again, but not before she had time to see his face. There was no anger, but she thought his face looked paler than the lighting should have made it.

  She had done her two hours’ practice, staying enclosed within the bubble of space controlled by the old ship’s engines while they made the short journey to orbit above the hidden planet. The ship guided her to begin with, and then gradually withdrew its help until she was in sole command. The ship could take full control as long as the gig was no more than about five seconds away – it would have to butt out just as she passed the point where the atmosphere of the planet ought to start, if it had one. The gig wasn’t too hard to handle, even at the absolute maximum load Merish had insisted on.

  She had watched Merish loading the inventory. After a while she had just said, ‘Really?’

  ‘Really what?’

  She gestured at the heap. ‘Really that much?’

  ‘Yes.’ He was packing medical kits and high-density rations, and some small packets that looked heavy. She pointed.

  ‘What are they?’

  He hefted one. ‘Rare earth metals, and gold.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Basic units of exchange. Think about it, Sel. There could be all kinds of societies down there. You might actually have to buy stuff, or pay your way out of—’ He stopped, and went back to packing.

  She had watched his shoulders for a while. They seemed broader than she remembered.

  ‘Ready?’

  Seldyan made one last check. ‘Yup.’

  ‘Okay. Ship? You’ve got it. Please launch.’

  She wondered if the ship would say anything, but it didn’t seem the talkative kind. It just opened the bay doors, a complicated cross between an iris and a kaleidoscope that was hard to focus on, and then the pod slipped gently out through them.

  The first time she had done this, an endless three hours ago, she had sat back and let the ship do the work for the first ten minutes. This time she squared her shoulders as well as the tiny space allowed, and took hold of the control ball.

  ‘Give me control, please.’

  The internal lights blinked from their standard muted yellow to green and back. The ball – it was literally just that, a plain off-white sphere the right size to fit neatly into her palm with her fingers closed over it – had been lying passively in her hand. Now it rose a little as if coming to attention. She pushed it forward a millimetre, feeling the resistance that told her it was active, and that helped her to control her movements.

  The pod accelerated as she pushed.

  They had agreed that this first trip was strictly exploratory. Approach the hidden planet as closely as possible, to the point whatever shielded it became apparent, or until something else happened. The pod had few instruments of its own, but apparently the ship was using it as a focus for a lot of clever remote sensing. That was definitely Merish territory; he seemed comfortable with it.

  Everything seemed to be going okay. She pushed the ball hard forward, and felt the slight nausea that went with only averagely clever g-nulling systems cancelling out a lot of acceleration. The pod had quite a decent turn of speed, but it would need it if she wasn’t to die of boredom. They had about a hundred and fifty thousand klicks to cover. She sat back and watched the view.

  Far sooner than she expected, an area of the display in front of her changed colour, the control ball gave a little wobble in her hand and a quiet voice said, ‘Cruise,’ and it seemed that was it.

  The comms to the ship was permanently open. She tapped at an indecipherable icon on an old-fashioned-looking display screen in front of her. It expanded into a slightly fuzzy 2-D of Merish’s face, about as high as the length of her finger.

  ‘Anything?’

  The image shook its head. ‘The ship says not. It’s got enough sensors channelled through you to make the pod glow, but nothing yet. If there’s going to be anything it should be soon; you’re close to the place where the sensors start getting confused.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ She switched to a forward view; at this distance it showed a disc of perfect darkness with Merish’s face apparently floating in front of it. ‘If the sensors are confused, how will we know when there is something?’

  There was no answer. She tutted. ‘Merish? How will we know?’

  There was still no answer. She frowned at the face, and then looked more closely.

  It was motionless. The eyes were wide, and looking off to one side as if he had just noticed something but hadn’t had time to turn his head.

  Seldyan swallowed. Then she forced herself to remember the bit of her familiarization which had covered the pod’s limited comms and even more limited sensory kit. She reached for some controls.

  The first answer she got came as no more than confirmation – the frozen image was just that. The external view was real-time and unprocessed, but the video link was fully dumb. It went on refreshing at the same speed even if there was nothing new to refresh, and that meant either that the pod had stopped receiving information, or that the ship had stopped transmitting.

  Of the two she much preferred the first. She did some checking and nodded to herself. The ship had not stopped transmitting. Quite the opposite. She checked some more, and then sat back and blew out her cheeks.

  The source intensity of the ship’s sensor energy had multiplied by five hundred. If it kept that up for long, it would fry her DNA.

  ‘Shit!’ She slapped the comms. ‘Merish? Ship? Stop the fuck! Are you guys trying to boil me?’

  There was no answer. Merish went on looking not quite at her from the frozen display.

  She wanted to swear again, but that was a waste of time if no one was listening, and at these energy levels, time she didn’t have. She shook her head and went back to the pod’s instruments. Then she saw it.

  Before, the ship’s sensors had been stabbing at the pod like a searchlight. Now their field had broadened into a cone a whole second across. It wasn’t looking through her any more. It was looking for her, and it obviously had no idea where she was.


  She felt her hands clenching. ‘Merish?’

  There was nothing. She swiped the parts of the comms controls that should set them to wideband, emergency. There was no sign they had responded, but she took a breath and hoped that the channel was still open.

  ‘This is Escape Pod serial, uh,’ she checked an engraved plate on the bulkhead above her, ‘CX20 hash 8, one occupant. Location as beacon, I guess. Merish? If you can hear this, come and get me? I’ve got no power, no sensors, falling down a gravity well.’

  There was no reply, not that she had expected one. As far as the ship was concerned, she must have vanished. And, when she looked, the display ahead had lost its image of Merish and now showed nothing but black. So did the display behind.

  Whatever it was that shielded the planet, she was in it.

  Then the blackness fractured in front of her and parted like a flock of birds, and her heart tried to jump out of her ribs. She was looking at a planet, and it was getting bigger, very fast indeed.

  She had felt no sense of acceleration, and the instruments were either frozen or dead. So were the controls, including the engine, and that left no doubt. She was going to hit the planet.

  She tried desperately to remember a bit of the orientation she had hoped she would never need. Her hand reached out, found a projection low down on the far left of the panel. She yanked, hard. It gave, with a solid mechanical clunk.

  For a bowel-churning moment she thought nothing was going to happen. Then the internal lights dimmed and the same quiet voice said, ‘Impact defence enabled.’

  Air hissed, and the walls of the pod inflated and puffed towards her until she was immobilized. Then there was a sharp crack and the pod began to shudder. Seldyan nodded to herself as far as her cocoon would let her; the pod had fired the explosive bolts which extended its braking flaps. It was the best she could do. It might mean she would survive the crash.