Spiral

by Andy Remic

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is your soul ready for Heaven?’

  ‘If not,’ Carter growled, ‘then I’ll see you fucked up in Hell.’

  Carter groaned as he was shaken awake. His sticky eyelids opened and he could picture the jug - the jug of sweet golden liquid that he had enjoyed so thoroughly the night before. Images of flames crossed his mind; good food; good drink; humorous bantering company. The glistening face of Shanaz ...

  He groaned again and stared hard at Gol.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Get Nats up. Meet me outside in five.’

  ‘You got some cigarettes?’

  ‘I have,’ rumbled Gol. ‘Come on, move yourself. It’s almost dawn. We have little time left. The Nex are coming.’

  The sun was just rising, a weak grey pre-dawn light gently caressing the horizon. Natasha followed Carter, grumbling about their lack of sleep and touching tenderly at the healing wound in her throat, and then at her shoulder. ‘Gol’s painkillers are working, but not well enough.’

  ‘You still bad?’

  Natasha gave a weak smile. ‘I’ll survive, I’m sure.’

  She moved across the porch, linked arms with her father. ‘What can I do for you, daddy? You taking us out on safari?’

  ‘I wish we could have such fun,’ rumbled the large greying man. He rubbed Natasha’s hair. ‘It’s good having you here, girl; it’s good having you around me again. It makes me feel younger!’

  ‘Me too,’ smiled Natasha. ‘You make me feel like a child again.’

  ‘You’re certainly not that,’ he said softly, glancing over at Carter who was leaning against a wooden support and smoking heavily. ‘Hey, Carter, come on. I have something to show you.’

  ‘Does that something include a bed?’

  ‘No. But it has something to do with the Nex.’

  Gol led them around the back of the battered, rundown white-walled house with its peeling paint and dilapidated appearance: a clever mask, a wonderful disguise. He led them a little way into the trees, and then out across scrubland and through another stand of orange trees until they came to a rusting iron hatchway half concealed by vegetation, small scrub bushes, fallen leaves and branches. ‘This is no longer classified,’ said Gol, ‘because our security has already been breached by the impending Nex visit. We must prepare. We must be ready.’ He was serious, deadly serious, standing above that rusted iron covering. ‘While I commend your skills in searching me out, you really, really have no idea what you are dealing with ... you really do not understand what you are fucking with here ... you see an old house, but it goes much, much deeper ...’

  He spun the rusted iron wheel, which moved with surprising ease. There was a hiss as the iron hatch was released. Gol heaved up the hatch to reveal a small section of silver alloy with a slot for a key. Gol removed the key from a chain around his neck; he inserted the key and turned it. Then he retreated a pace or two, saying, ‘Step back.’

  Carter and Natasha obeyed.

  There came a distant hiss, followed by a deep rumbling - and the earth began to shake. Natasha grabbed hold of Carter’s arm, and they glanced all around. Suddenly, the ground folded in on itself and - like a huge metallic puzzle - it folded in and down, and then spun up in a huge spiral of metallic slivers that hissed and spun out like knives in a huge fan to reveal—

  A massive circle in the ground, metallic-walled, a huge riveted alloy ramp leading down.

  From the darkness below the ground lights shone dazzlingly. There came a roar of engines, more rumbling, and Gol, Carter and Nats all jumped back. From the depths of the earth came a desert-camouflaged six-wheeled vehicle, a huge armour-plated wagon with steel welded over the windows and machine guns poking from dark rectangular slits.

  The wheels, each nearly as large as Carter was tall, pounded the alloy ramp and ate into the sand. There were clangs as the massive machine hammered by, motor roaring and wheels churning as the vehicle sped past the group and to the front of the dilapidated white-walled house where it stopped, engine rumbling, fumes belching from a huge plated exhaust. ‘We call them Pigs,’ shouted Gol over the roar. More lights dazzled. Another armoured car approached, wheels thundering up the ramp - and then Pigs positively spewed from this hole in the ground, one after the other, a seemingly never-ending stream of armour and guns until thirty weapon-bristling behemoths sat in a huge circle around Gol’s small house, growling, coughing, waiting.

  Carter licked his lips as he surveyed the firepower.

  ‘Fuck me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise you had such ... resources.’

  Gol smiled wanly.

  ‘If only they were enough.’

  ‘When you said the Nex were coming ... exactly how many did you mean?’

  Gol’s dark-eyed stare met Carter’s. ‘The schematics ... they want them bad, Carter.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Hundreds,’ said Gol softly.

  ‘Show me where the weapons are,’ said Carter grimly, and Gol led Carter and Natasha down the alloy ramp and into the darkness of Spiral_F below the hot ground of Africa.

  CHAPTER 15

  BATTLE

  Carter reached the bottom of the wide alloy ramp and moved warily into a huge chamber hewn from the rock. Panels of computer banks glittered across one wall, a contrast to the rough harshness of the environment.

  ‘Controls for the anti-aircraft guns. We even have some missiles.’ Gol gestured at the walls.

  ‘Missiles?’ said Carter softly. ‘It would seem that Spiral have infinite resources, do they not? Fuck me.’

  ‘Come on, I will take you to the armoury. The other Spiral_F members are ready; it was a shame that you decided to sleep in so late.’

  ‘A battle is one thing,’ said Carter, ‘but I didn’t realise we were preparing for a fucking war.’

  Gol explained quickly as they walked, gesticulating passionately with his hands, his eyes wide and focused; they came to many turns in the underground passageways - sometimes they branched in three or four directions. Always Gol would take a tunnel - seemingly at random - his boots treading the dust as he led the couple through the correct sequence of the—

  ‘Maze?’ asked Carter.

  ‘Sort of. That was not its primary intention, but it has become so. We have been busy boys down here under the rock.’ He grinned a broad square-toothed grin.

  ‘So I see,’ said Carter softly, brushing his way through thick cobwebs.

  ‘Where to begin?’ said Gol in his deep melodic voice. ‘You want answers? You sounded surprised when I mentioned missiles. The Spiral you know and love own fifty-eight drilling rigs at a variety of locations around the world. Spiral own about a million square miles of ocean with oil and minerals and precious metals beneath the waves. Spiral own millions of acres of forestland in Scandinavia and in Russia, and thousands more miles of desert in Nevada, as well as here in Africa and in a variety of locations scattered across the Middle East... secretly, and under the guise of major business concerns. Spiral also owns many of the world’s major computing organisations, ranging from the development of software, games and operating systems through to hardware - processors, communications, fucking DVD writers and the latest digi-optical scanners, memory cubes, blue-laser peripherals, Qglass-storage, you name it ... Spiral’s finances are beyond your comprehension. And beyond mine,’ he added wistfully. ‘They have a finger in every pie; if you can make money out of it, Spiral does. Gold, precious jewels, oil, construction, computers. Spiral is one of the richest organisations in the world - and also the best-kept secret. And it works for the good of mankind, but—

  ‘There is always a but,’ said Carter softly.

  ‘The splinter group we talked of last night: they seek to master the QIII - with it, they plan world domination.’

  ‘I knew the QIII was rumoured to be incredibly powerful, but—’

  ‘But nothing. Tell him, Nats.’

  Nats, who had gone pale, said, ‘The QIII is the most powerful militar
y processor in the world - bar none. It is years ahead of its time, but the biggest breakthroughs are in two areas; it uses RI - real intelligence, it is a superior brain, not an artificial program following scripted moves. It can think. It can fucking think, Carter. But more importantly, it has what is called WorldCode. It can predict the future ...’

  ‘Predict the—’

  ‘To within a certain percentage rate. It is not perfect -nothing ever is. But it follows new probability equations that it helped to create; its intelligence is astounding.’

  They came to the end of a corridor, blanked by an alloy door. Gol punched in digits. The door slid open to reveal—

  A huge chamber, full of guns and armour. Banks of guns, racks of body armour. The bunker was hewn from the orange rock, the walls rough and coarse, grained and grooved by the tools used to create this underground network.

  ‘Take your pick,’ said Gol softly. ‘But be quick, we have less than twenty minutes.’ His deviant ECube rattled. ‘Yeah? OK. Arm the air defences.’

  ‘They here?’ Carter’s eyes were bright.

  ‘Soon. There are more than we thought.’

  Carter frowned. ‘And?’

  Gol swallowed softly. ‘The good news is that they have come over land, as we expected. Our air defences are too formidable; their planes or copters would be merely shot from the sky.’

  ‘The bad news?’

  ‘They have brought tanks. Lots of tanks. Had them airlifted in from a Spiral depot in Egypt.’

  ‘What the fuck are we going to use to fight tanks?’

  ‘Down at the bottom, over there,’ said Gol, his humourless grin bloodless in the white lights. ‘Grenade launchers. After all, these tanks are only Tjorny Arylo -Russian Black Eagles weighing in at 50 tonnes apiece and sporting 125mm-calibre cannons. I’ve sent a message to Langan who was flying air support over Nigeria to come and give us some fucking heavy air weaponry in that bitch of a Comanche he uses ... but he might not get here in time. If you have to shoot one of these Black Eagles, Carter, don’t aim for the turret because there are no crew there; aim for the hull at the front.’ Gol spat. ‘Bastards are heavily protected. And they have automatic loading systems; every shell doesn’t have to be manually loaded.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Natasha, confused.

  Gol grinned again. ‘To speed up the rate of fire,’ he said bitterly.

  ‘This is not my fucking day,’ said Carter.

  ‘It never is, Brother,’ whispered Kade in his mind.

  ‘So you are back?’

  ‘You don’t think I would miss this for the world, do you?’

  ‘I thought you might have died in a hole, lonely and unloved.’

  ‘Such bitter words stab me through the heart. Now, be a good lad and take me to the guns. Big guns, and some bombs - it’s a while since I’ve seen people burn.’

  ‘You have no soul,’ thought Carter bitterly.

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Kade. ‘I am part of yours.’

  Sunlight rolled into the valley, red tendrils dancing through the disturbed dust. It glanced and spilled from and through the orange-tree orchards. Occasionally, a monkey chattered.

  The men and women of Spiral_F waited.

  They waited for the Nex.

  They waited for the signal.

  Carter stood beside a huge six-wheeled Pig, a Sterling sub-machine gun in his hands. He hefted the automatic weapon thoughtfully, for it had been many years since he had used such heavy hardware, always relying more on his Browning, or at least a Glock or Walther PPK. Carter didn’t like machine guns; he didn’t agree with the principle of mass destruction. It went against his morals, such as they were.

  Gol tossed a bottle of Coke to Natasha, then another to Carter. They cracked open the bottles and drank, Natasha keeping her eyes fixed on the small plasma screen that had been set up on a small stand. It showed the entrance to the canyon, the sweeping African vista beyond and the images relayed from one of the sentries’ headsets.

  Natasha sported DPM desert combats and boots. She held her sub-machine gun awkwardly, and Carter’s gaze swept along the line at the nervous groups of men and women, many lounging around and against the protective armoured Pigs. He could read their faces, the fear, the apprehension, the realisation that their comfortable - top secret but comfortable - existence had suddenly been shattered.

  ‘I hope they don’t come,’ said Natasha softly.

  She moved to Carter and slumped down beside him, stretching her legs out. The scene was strange, alien, disjointed. Orange trees, a white-walled house with crawling plants and a bed of prettily coloured flowers, their hues radiant in the sunshine ... and heavily armoured vehicles, rifles, machine guns, men and women in boots and combat clothing—

  ‘They’ll come,’ he said, passing her his cigarette.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m giving up.’

  ‘How are your wounds? Hell, girl, you were like a pincushion back in Scotland.’

  ‘OK.’ She smiled, but the smile was a mask for her nerves. ‘The shoulder one gives me the most trouble. Like some bastard sticking a knife in me every time I move my arm. How about you?’

  ‘Ribs still grinding together.’ Carter grinned. He held up his neighbour-strapped fingers. ‘At least these don’t stop me pulling a trigger and I have a horrible feeling that that skill will be needed real soon ...’

  They waited.

  ‘How long?’ asked Carter.

  Gol shrugged. ‘Ten minutes, maybe less.’

  Carter checked his ammo and licked his dry lips. ‘I fucking hate these situations; I prefer to work alone.’

  ‘We know,’ said Nats, glancing up. ‘This time we have little choice.’

  Shanaz appeared from the alloy entrance leading underground; she carried a small optical disk in one hand and was smiling broadly. She tossed the disk to Gol.

  ‘There you go, boss.’

  ‘All data transferred?’

  ‘Yeah - it’d make Feuchter weep.’

  Carter’s head snapped around at the sound of the name, his eyes bright. ‘Feuchter? I left that motherfucker to die in Germany.’

  ‘He is not dead; far from it, Carter. Spiral_F has had its eye on Feuchter for quite some time; he’s wrapped up in this Spiral QIII charade tighter than a first-time whore’s legs around a sailor’s back. He’s head of Operations and operates out of Rub al’Khali, in Saudi Arabia - but, again, we are grasping at straws when we try to discover how his game is implemented. We suspect that he has links to the Spiral splinter group, but there is nothing solid. He is too good - he evades watchers, the fucker is almost untouchable. And since our fucking HQ was blown away it’s pretty hard to check out such facts now. The whole comm SP1Network is screwed. Spiral has been fucked up; and, sadly, I believe this situation can only get worse.’

  Carter rubbed at the stubble on his chin. ‘Feuchter,’ he said softly. ‘That fucker is definitely a player in this game, I can sense it in my bones. He was ready to kill me back in Germany. He has obviously become more reckless...’

  ‘Nobody had time to act on your report,’ said Natasha.

  Carter nodded, his eyes becoming hooded.

  Natasha’s gaze returned to the plasma screen.

  ‘What do you know about Spiral_Q?’ A gleam had appeared in Carter’s eyes; Feuchter brought back bad memories and he knew that one day - one day - he would meet the man again. They would have a little chat. They would dance together. They would remember the good old times in a symbiotic embrace ...

  Gol frowned. ‘The QIII is under development in Rub al’Khali under the banner of the Spiral_Q Division, rumoured to be located just south of Ash Shu’aybah in Saudi Arabia. Some of the design specifications were leaked recently over the Net and there have been some very pissed-off people ... especially since we also acquired the schematics for this extremely dangerous processor.’ Gol laughed bitterly. ‘After the Nex have paid us a visit, we could do with nipping over to say hello to Feuchter and the other QII
I developers. I’m sure they would have something interesting to contribute to our research. But considering the game they are playing, that place must be wired up tighter than a virgin’s—’

  ‘Yes, daddy,’ pouted Natasha smartly. ‘Remember that there are ladies present.’

  ‘Yeah, ladies armed with guns and quite capable of dropping dangerous men and women without regard for where their brains and bones scatter…’

  Natasha made a rude noise before turning back to the monitor.

  ‘Shit,’ hissed Gol, sitting up suddenly. ‘Something is wrong.’ His gaze flickered to the plasma screen - but there was nothing, nothing visible, no Nex sweeping down, no armies of tanks lumbering over the horizon.

  ‘We’re still safe,’ said Natasha uncertainly.

  ‘No, no, it’s this. A PB: panic burst.’ Gol pulled free a small black device on which a red light was glowing. Gol licked his lips, his stare coming up to Carter and Natasha. ‘We only use this for a breach ... The fuckers must have out-wired our electronics... but how? Fuck, fuck! Look, if anything should happen we have a rendezvous point for emergencies. The coordinates are 551.222.222.340; the ECube can patch them through, but remember that ECube security has been breached - you could be transmitting to the enemy.’

  Carter pulled free his Browning and hoisted the SMG...

  His mouth was suddenly a desert canyon floor.

  He felt a stirring deep within his brain; like a lizard uncurling from a century of sleep around a rock.

  Bullets screamed, a line of them smashing an inch above Carter’s head and denting holes along the flank of an armoured vehicle. There was a slap slap of impacts in flesh and a soldier sitting atop a Pig, smoking and nursing his gun, was cut in half in a violent spray of blood. The top half of his body was punched out of sight behind the huge vehicle as his legs dropped, twitching and drooling trails of crimson to the ground.