I glanced uneasily over my shoulder at the empty corridor behind us. “Yeah.”
“They were prepared to lose everything in order to take it all. There was no settling for a slice of the pie for them. They had to have the whole thing. I respect them for that. It’s strange to think that those bastards had principles, but in a way, they did.”
“I’m not sure if that’s–”
“Here we are,” he said, cutting me off as we reached the doorway. He tapped on a keypad on the wall and the door clicked open a crack. “Corporal Gunrix?”
He guided me into a room cluttered with all kinds of gear: circuit boards, boxes of wire, soldering irons, hammers and pliers, and an assortment of electrical gadgets and instruments strewn across the benches. There was also an apparatus that resembled a hemispherical cage, with pipes and wires and hoses dangling down from the ceiling above.
Gunrix stood before the mechanism and turned as we entered.
“Welcome, Major General,” he said conversationally.
Targen strode into the room, slouching into a chair by the wall. “You still working on that fat fuck?” he said.
“This guy’s a beast,” Gunrix said, stepping away from the apparatus. He began to say something else in that jovial tone but the words were lost on me. A numbness began to fill my body and I felt myself reeling, felt the world pitching under my feet. The two of them continued to chat but I registered none of what they said.
I was transfixed by the thing strapped into the apparatus next to Gunrix.
It was Doust, I realised with shock. Or at least, it had been. I could see the tufts of white hair on his head, but otherwise his face was unrecognisable. It had been hacked apart down the centre and split crudely apart. A large black disc had been wedged into the place where his forehead had once been, and his mouth gaped open as if in a silent scream of pain.
I thought for a moment that he was dead, but then he twitched and made a dreadful hissing sound, struggling uselessly at the bonds on his arms, legs and chest that kept him securely within the apparatus.
“Shut up, you, we’re talking here,” Targen drawled, and he and Gunrix laughed.
I felt sick to my stomach, but the two soldiers seemed oblivious to me.
“No,” I said, backing away, and Gunrix turned to look at me, ingenuous.
“Is there a problem?” he said.
“Are you kidding me? Of course there’s a goddamn problem.”
“Just relax, fella,” Gunrix said, making no attempt to come after me.
“Relax? You’re the one who makes these things!” I said to Gunrix, horrified. “Like the one that was watching me all those years back home.”
Gunrix smiled and shrugged, as if proud of the creature in the chair. “Yeah. My handiwork.”
“But that’s… that’s monstrous.”
Gunrix just stared at me with that one empty eye socket as he idly turned a hacksaw over in his hands.
“It’s necessary,” he said.
“You’re a fucking… butcher,” I stammered. “Cabre needs to know about this.” I turned, then bumped into something solid that made me stumble backward with a gasp. I fended away from it, expecting an attack, but none came.
Cabre stood in the doorway, staring at me impassively.
“So let’s find out what you know,” he said.
Part Three
The Unknown
22
“You’re in on this?” I said, incredulous, as Cabre advanced into the room. “What the fuck, Cabre?”
“Am I in on this?” Cabre said sharply. “Of course I’m in on it. Do you think anything happens around here without my knowledge? Without my express consent?”
I staggered backward and Targen materialised to halt my retreat.
“But I…” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. It was you who sent that thing to watch us?”
Cabre spread his hands wide. “You’re slowly coming up to speed. Yes, that was one of my drones, although one of our earlier attempts. Its behaviour was a bit…”
“Erratic,” Gunrix finished for him, his tone rueful. “That one went off the rails. Hung around watching you for years, when really it was supposed to observe for a few weeks before moving on to its next assignment.” Gunrix laughed. “Maybe it took a liking to you, huh?”
“So you guys knew about Arsha and me all this time?”
“You, and those four little science experiments of yours,” Cabre said. “Yes. We watched you for a long time, trying to figure out what you were up to. You did manage to surprise me, though, I’ll give you that. I wasn’t aware that you had any knowledge on how to manipulate the Grid. If I had known that, I’d have come and sought you out a lot earlier. As it was, I thought you were just a couple of harmless clanks dabbling in genetics, with nothing useful to offer me.”
“So why have you been playing dumb this whole time?” I said. “You acted like you didn’t know me when I got here.”
“I wanted to see if you would do the right thing and tell me everything you knew,” Cabre said. “Call it a test of loyalty. Of honesty.” He shrugged. “Do you really think I give every clank who wanders out of the wasteland a guided tour of my facilities? A personal interview? That day you arrived I gave you five minutes of my time because I knew you had a technical background, and wondered if you had something else to reveal to me. That’s five minutes more than I give anyone else.”
“But how did you know about us?” I said. “Why did you send the drone creature to our city?”
“I didn’t know about you,” Cabre said. “Not before my drone found you.” He walked over and stared at Doust fondly. “My drones are out there, spread across the length and breadth of the wasteland, searching for information, for resources, for anything that could help bring my vision of a new world into reality. They’re searching far and wide for relics of technology, for any clanks who might be in possession of useful knowledge. How ironic that the thing I’ve been searching for came right to my doorstep to beg for my help.”
“You think I’m going to help you now?” I snarled. “After this?”
Cabre considered. “Yes, I think you will.”
Gunrix stepped forward. “So do I,” he said confidently. “See, these drones aren’t the result of some high school lab experiment. I created a probe to tap into a clank’s neural core and suck all the data out. Call it an easy and effective way of interrogating a subject. It doesn’t matter if they agree or disagree to tell us what they know. We’ll get the information regardless.” He held up his thumb and index finger, slightly parted. “There’s just one slight side effect.”
“The process destroys most of the neural core,” Cabre explained. “The subject is left with very little cognitive function afterwards. Just very basic brain activity, really. But that doesn’t mean they can’t still have a purpose.”
I didn’t want to hear any more of this. I turned away, but Gunrix ploughed on anyway.
“With a few extra additions and a touch of reprogramming, I can turn a brain-dead waste of space into a functioning drone, ready to head out into the world.” Gunrix pointed to Doust’s head. “This black disc here is a multi-purpose sensor. It does infrared, thermal, even a bit of x-ray in short bursts for up to two hundred metres. Ideally I’d like it smaller so that I didn’t have to half rip the subject’s head apart to fit it in, but I’d lose the range if it wasn’t this size. Anyway, having the long-distance capability is great for helping the drone to avoid detection. It can also pick up on threats long before they arrive and get out of trouble. One of my own inventions,” he said proudly.
“I don’t care,” I said.
“And this,” Gunrix went on, pulling Doust’s head forward to reveal the charred innards of his skull, “is a high-speed transmitter for relaying data back to The Midway over the Grid. We only need the Grid connection up for a few seconds for our drones to send back a week’s worth of data.”
“So that’s the real reason why you want the Grid b
ack up,” I muttered.
“Not entirely,” Cabre said. “It’s just a small part of it. Everything I told you before was true. I want a future for Ascension, for the clanks under my protection. I want to peel back the layers of the unknown, bring knowledge and understanding back to our society. Being able to communicate with my drones is all part of that plan.”
“And what about the ones you torture and turn into mindless slaves? What about their future?”
“They don’t deserve one,” Cabre said flatly. “They’re criminals, or enemies. They don’t have any part in the future.” Cabre leaned in closer to the ruined face of the Marauder leader. “Do you, Doust?”
Doust screamed in gibberish, a piteous and appalling sound. Whether he was responding to the mention of his name, or something else, I couldn’t tell. Gunrix calmly stepped over and stuck his hand inside the cavity in Doust’s skull and tweaked something, and Doust quietened, although he continued to twitch and work his mouth pathetically.
Targen moved over and looked down at him without pity. “I just wish I could have killed this bastard when I had the chance,” Targen said. “Out there in the battlefield, with a bullet between his eyes while my boot was on his neck.”
“Cabre had his reasons for wanting him alive,” Gunrix said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to download everything from his neural core.” He straightened Doust’s head again. “Now we know everything he knew. Everything about the Marauder enclave, their secret hideouts, their resources.” He thumped Doust good-naturedly on the chest. “He’s been a great help.”
“In the end, they all serve Ascension, one way or the other,” Cabre said.
“Yes, I see now,” I said. “I see that you’re really no better than the Marauders. Maybe worse. At least they made no attempt to hide what they really were.”
“The end justifies the means, Brant,” Cabre said. “We’re building a new world. They were just trying to destroy the old one. You’re not stupid. You know as well as we do that there’s going to be some collateral damage along the way.”
“You can’t justify this, Cabre. Don’t even try.”
Targen sighed. “Can we shut this guy up now?”
Cabre glanced at Gunrix. “When is Doust’s procedure going to be finished?”
Gunrix rubbed his chin. “Well, that’s the problem. When I said this guy was a beast, I wasn’t kidding. He was running hotter than any other clank I’ve ever seen. Might have had his power core tinkered with before the Winter to feed his body with extra juice. Extra power.”
“Get to the point, Corporal.”
“Well, Doust here fried my probe during the procedure,” Gunrix said. He reached out for a charred cable that snaked down from the ceiling. “Fried it real good. I can’t do another brain dump until this is repaired.”
“How long?” Cabre said.
Gunrix shrugged. “Twenty-four hours. Maybe forty-eight.”
“Get on it,” Cabre said.
Perhaps it was the shock of finding out the truth about Ascension that dulled my senses, but it was only now that I realised that they intended to strap me into that contraption and turn me into one of those horrific drone creatures. Fear stabbed at my belly as I imagined what it might feel like to have my thoughts and memories sucked out, my mind ruptured, and to spend the rest of my days as a mindless slave, roaming the wasteland at Cabre’s bidding.
“Look, Cabre,” I pleaded, hating myself for trying to bargain with these monsters, “we can still have our deal. I’ll give you the information you need about the Grid, you put out the fires, and then we can each go our separate ways. We don’t ever have to see each other again. Okay?”
Cabre frowned, doubtful. “You think you’re in any position to bargain, Brant? Because from where I stand, I don’t think you are.” I opened my mouth but he held up his palm to silence me. “Let me tell you how this is going to work. Gunrix here is going to strap you into this machine. He’s going to turn it on and plug that probe into your head and take out everything that’s in there. After that we’ll put you to use as an Ascension drone. End of story.”
“Might even send you back home so you can keep an eye on your friends,” Targen said gruffly, and Gunrix laughed. “Would you like that?”
“So this is the thanks I get for everything I’ve done?” I said. “Where’s your gratitude?”
“Gratitude?” Cabre said. “For what?”
“For pushing you out the way of that RPG at the city gates, for a start,” I said. “You would have worn it in the back if I hadn’t protected you.”
“That was never going to hit me,” Cabre said.
“And what about destroying the mech? I was the one who planted the spitball on it, out in the street. I was the one who stopped Doust in his tracks.”
“If memory serves, it was Major General Targen who subdued our friend Doust.”
“That’s bullshit–”
“Shut up,” Cabre said quietly but with an air of authority. “Just shut up.” He strolled over closer to Doust and watched him twitch within his bonds. “I’m not proud to say that I’m a little too emotional at times. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does…” He looked back at me. “Truth is, I’m angry with you, Brant. I’m angry that I gave you a chance and you threw it back in my face. You lied to me. You withheld information. If you’d have told me what you knew at our first meeting, I could have had the Grid restarted before the Marauder attack. I wouldn’t have had to rely on some antiquated and easily subverted radio system for communications. The Marauders can’t block the Grid. No one can. A lot of my soldiers died out there because we lost our comms, and you could have prevented it.”
I held out my hands in a futile gesture. “Look, I didn’t know if I could trust you. I’m sorry–”
“I’m sorry too,” Cabre snapped. “For your sake. But you had your chance. You can’t expect me to rely on your honesty now, can you? How do I know what you aren’t telling me? How do I know what else you’re holding back, waiting for the right moment to reveal it?” He shook his head. “No. The time for cooperation has passed. Now I’m just going to take it from you whether you like it or not.”
The trap had well and truly closed in, and I didn’t see any way of escaping. While Cabre was resolute and grim, the other two seemed to be genuinely enjoying their moment of superiority. They enjoyed watching me squirm. I had no doubts that Gunrix couldn’t wait to shove me into the apparatus and strap me down. He seemed to take a macabre delight in his work. In fact, the inhumanity of what they were doing seemed lost on all of them.
Fear gave way to anger and I clenched my teeth.
“You pieces of shit,” I grated. “You’re all pathetic. And I hope your new world crashes down around your fuckin’ ears. I hope you end up in the same deep, dark hole as the Marauders.”
“How about I give you a matching scar on the other side of your face?” Targen said, stepping forward with his hand balled into a fist.
“No,” Cabre said, lifting a hand to Targen’s chest. “Let’s not damage what’s in that head of his. The irony is,” he said, as if I wasn’t even there, “he’s going to be working for Ascension for the rest of his days. He’s going to be part of the new world he’s cursing whether he likes it or not.”
“Fuck you,” I said.
“Gunner, you have twenty-four hours,” Cabre said. “Get that thing fixed.” He returned his attention to me and grabbed my arm. “And you… come with me.”
23
Cabre directed me back toward the front entrance of The Midway and handed me over to a couple of soldiers stationed there.
“This one goes straight to the lock-up,” he told them. “Make sure Captain Ocano is notified.”
“Yessir.”
Cabre turned and left without another word, and the soldiers gripped me from either side, hauling me unceremoniously out of The Midway and into the street. We crossed the road, headed toward a squat and drab building on which I could see faded lettering
: POLICE.
I cast a wistful eye along the street toward the south, wishing I could turn back the clock a few hours and leave the city while I still had the chance. With the disarray caused by the Marauder attack, it would have been relatively easy for me to slip away unnoticed. I could have been on my way back home with a good head start before they even realised I was missing.
But that wasn’t going to happen now.
As they dragged me along I wondered if there was a way I could somehow wrestle free and slip away into the city, but I quickly realised such thoughts were futile. For a start, the two soldiers were far larger and stronger than me, and there were still any number of other soldiers buzzing around The Midway performing various duties. Even if I were somehow able to escape the clutches of these two, there would be plenty of others to gun me down or corner me before I could make it to safety.
As we neared the dilapidated police station, I saw Elias heaving a wheelbarrow full of debris toward us. Our eyes met, and he abruptly dropped the wheelbarrow and stiffened, staring at me in disbelief.
“Cleanskin, what–”
“Get out of here, Elias,” I said simply. “Just get out of here.”
He continued to gape at me as they led me up and into the police station, and then I lost sight of him as we pushed through the front doors. I was taken through the front desk area where two soldiers stood guard, and then down a corridor past empty and disused offices, the furniture within coated in dust. Toward the back of the building we came to an anteroom where a grey-haired clank with a wrinkled, weathered face stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.
The Fires of Yesterday (The Silent Earth, Book 3) Page 19
