Lockdown Tales

by Neal Asher

  Enders acknowledged that with a shrug, and replied, ‘Earth jurisdiction of the Flats and Godrun does not end until the day after tomorrow. I’m the Monitor here until then. Why are you running, stone man?’

  ‘I run because that is all we can do now.’ He gestured back towards the crawler. ‘The arthrodapt is back –Trader John is back with his janglers. Now there is no law here they are doing what they always did before.’

  ‘Trader John,’ Enders said tightly.

  ‘Yes. He has opened his mine again, like before. And the other owners are following his lead.’

  Enders stared at him for a long moment then stepped past him to peer inside the crawler. A woman and a child of the stone people sat inside. They did not look round at him. Their heads were dipped and their wrists and ankles tied. He stepped inside and studied them, the stone man followed behind him.

  ‘Who are they?’ he asked.

  ‘My wife and child – I took them from a mine.’

  Enders turned and held out his carbine. ‘Hold this.’

  The stone man took the gun reluctantly, held it as if it might bite him, then hurriedly put it down beside the door. Enders tipped the woman’s head back and studied her face. She looked utterly blank while a triangular device attached to her temple blinked a green light.

  ‘Induction thrall,’ he stated bitterly.

  This accounted for the bonds. The mind-control device enslaved someone to another’s will. Even though these were the man’s wife and child, if he hadn’t tied them it would have returned them to whoever controlled them.

  ‘The janglers are taking my people again,’ said the stone man.

  Enders nodded then opened the utility pack on his belt to take out a small remote control with inset screen. He tipped back the child’s head and studied the thrall there, then held the device over it and triggered it. Code ran on the screen, while a green light began flashing on the device to match the blinking of the one on the thrall. Both lights turned amber, then after a moment red before going out. He reached down, clicked a button on the face of the thrall and detached it, putting it in his pocket. It left a sore triangle of skin with puncture marks evenly scattered across it. The child became conscious again, looking round in bewilderment. He did the same with the woman and she gasped the moment the lights changed, then gazed up at him, tears welling in her eyes.

  ‘But there are others,’ said the stone man, drawing a knife from his belt to cut their bonds, ‘and you can do nothing. It will be as it was before: my people enslaved in their mines and Trader John in control out here.’

  Enders handed over the device to the stone man. ‘Maybe you will find this useful,’ he said.

  ‘You will not use it again,’ stated the stone man.

  Enders picked up his carbine and stepped to the door. ‘I’m sorry,’ he managed, and stepped down to tramp angrily back across the mudstone to his jeep.

  Enders drove up a metalled road from the flat, the town of Godrun coming into sight around one curve. Here cylindrical foamstone houses clustered on either side of the river valley with narrow streets running between. A series of bridges crossed the river while here and there raised car parks were dotted with crawlers. At the top end of the town warehouses and factories served the various mines scattered throughout the mountains.

  The road took him in past a few houses then to a bridge over the river. Many more people were about than usual – men and women in mine worker overalls, weather gear and envirosuits – and he noticed how they paused to watch him as he drove past. The news had spread that Earth jurisdiction here was ending and that he, the single enforcer of Earth law, would soon be out of a job. He grimaced in annoyance as he finally drew his vehicle to a halt outside the station house.

  Little different from others in Godrun, the foamstone building stood like a grain silo punctuated with windows, with a front portico to one side of a ramp leading up from the underground garage. However, the front door was armoured and as he stepped up onto the portico a disc-shaped security drone dropped on its power cables from the rain roof and swivelled to inspect him.

  ‘Any problems?’ he asked.

  Red lights flickered around the drone’s rim then it replied, ‘More people coming past to take a look here. Who knows what they expect to see?’

  ‘Nothing will happen today,’ said Enders. He shrugged. ‘Tomorrow all bets are off.’

  ‘I can still defend this property even then,’ the drone stated.

  ‘Of course, but try not to kill anyone.’

  ‘It will be their choice.’

  Enders nodded then said, ‘Open.’

  The armoured door clonked and then swung open ahead of him.

  Not yet dressed, Enders sipped from a cup of coffee as he gazed out the window across the town. Shots rang out and he transferred his gaze down to the street where revellers were leaving a saloon and firing their weapons into the air. He glared at these and after a moment turned to put his cup down on a side table.

  ‘We should get out of here now,’ said his wife, Emily, from where she sat on the bed pulling on her leggings. ‘They’re already celebrating.’

  Enders glanced at her. ‘I’m not finished until sunrise tomorrow morning.’ He headed across the room and jerked open his wardrobe, harder than intended.

  ‘Really?’ She stood, watching him carefully. ‘Even now Earth jurisdiction is limited in the city to the Embassy. You know Trader John has city officials in his pocket. How else did he get out of prison so early? And here? The town council and Mayor Gavon are all mine owners and have always been in his pocket. You have no backup anymore, Enders.’

  ‘I know,’ he conceded.

  ‘You should have shot him in the head,’ she stated flatly as she continued dressing.

  ‘He’s an arthrodapt and tougher than I realised.’ He shrugged, taking out a shirt. ‘He should have died, but money talks here. Even with the murder charges he still managed to buy off-world medical care.’

  She shook her head. ‘The guy is a creep, and a dangerous one. He thinks he can buy anything he wants.’

  ‘He couldn’t buy you.’ Enders observed, pulling on the shirt.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said.

  ‘I shut him down before and I’ll shut him down again.’

  She looked up. ‘Why? We’re done here.’

  ‘Because it is my duty to enforce the law until sunrise tomorrow morning,’ he said flatly.

  She grimaced. ‘Always the soldier.’

  Enders turned back to the wardrobe, pushed aside the shirts to reveal a uniform jacket. He ran his finger along the service ribbon on the breast. ‘The war was simpler,’ he said, closing the wardrobe then concentrating on buttoning up his shirt.

  ‘Of course it was,’ she replied. ‘The evil alien prador against you and your soldiers.Black and white.’

  Enders smiled wryly at his reflection in the mirrored wardrobe door. ‘When things got really nasty we brought in the heavy mob – the war drones. Shame that’s not an option here.’

  ‘You knew it would be complicated – political – when you took this job.’ Emily gestured to the window. ‘Here you’re a lawman, not a soldier, and here you’re dealing with humans, not evil aliens.’

  ‘Are the prador evil anymore since the truce?’ he asked tightly, turning. ‘Apparently we must negotiate with them and appease them.’

  He walked over to a nearby table, took up his gun belt and strapped it on. While Emily watched, frowning, he drew the rail-beader from one holster. He checked its display then holstered it again before drawing the other weapon from its holster – a long-barrelled pulse gun. He gazed at it, expression blank.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘tomorrow morning I will no longer be a lawman. I will no longer be Monitor E L Trepanan of the shitty little mining town of Godrun.’ He turned to Emily. ‘I shut down Trader John and his janglers. I brought order here. And now, because the prador don’t want Earth forces on a world
this close to their border...’ He shrugged.

  ‘They can’t seem to distinguish between monitors like you and soldiers like you were.’ Emily shook her head. ‘Perhaps the distinction is a fine one.’

  ‘I think there’s more involved,’ said Enders, ignoring the jibe. ‘I would bet Trader John has been feeding them bullshit – he has the contacts.’

  ‘But there’s nothing you can do about it now.’

  After a long pause he replied, ‘I cannot allow it all to be for nothing, Emily.’

  She looked up at him, gentler now. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Out to the Flat again.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ she said.

  ‘I have to,’ he replied, holstering the pulse gun and turning for the door.

  Emily leapt from the bed and moved in front of him, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him hard.

  ‘Then go careful,’ she said as they separated.

  He nodded, disentangled himself from her and strode out the door.

  The river wound across through the mudstone of the flat towards the city, which glinted with lights in the early evening, a fairy citadel transplanted to this backwoods world. Enders drove over a bridge across it then along a metalled road beside it, tracing its course until he saw his destination.

  The ovoid house stood on double-jointed legs, rather like some huge animal dipping its feet into the water in preparation for crossing, for it overhung the river. The motorised home was capable of walking on those legs to another location. However, judging by its surroundings, it had established itself here some time ago. A jetty protruded below with boats moored against it. Surrounding mudstone had been dug up and gardens planted – adapted palm trees scattered here and there amidst the shrubbery, the whole enclosed by a high security fence. A short drive ran up to the double gate in the fence, with a parking area to one side.

  As he turned into the drive, Enders gazed across at a raised area back from the jetty. People were gathered there and soft music waxing and waning with the breeze. It seemed Trader John was eating alfresco today with guests.

  Enders brought his jeep up to the mesh gate, noted the palm reader on a post to one side, then took his carbine from the door pocket. He fired, blowing away the hinges in sprays of white-hot metal, tossed the carbine down and drove at the gate. Clinging only by a few tags of metal it collapsed before him and he motored straight off the short drive and into the gardens, heading for the raised area. Slewing to a halt beside a palm tree, he climbed out, took out his pulse gun and altered its power setting, then took up his laser carbine and, resting it across his shoulder, began striding towards the steps leading up.

  ‘Hey you!’ someone shouted.

  He glanced over as two heavies stepped out of the bushes. Without hesitation, he fired twice. Pulses of ionised aluminium dust hit them both in their chests, electrical discharges leap-frogging down their bodies to earth in the ground. They stood shuddering for a moment then just dropped, thudding into the succulent groundcover. He strode on, ignoring them. Another thug appeared at the head of the steps and he just shot him. Bullets zinged into the shrubbery nearby and two smacked into his chest sending him staggering – shock-absorbing fibres flowering from his flack-jacket. He brought his carbine down and fired it one-handed, earth erupting and shrubs catching fire. Two leapt for cover but he nailed a third with a stun shot from his pulse gun. Finally, he reached the top, stepping over the one he had stunned earlier.

  Guests stood in shock about a table laden with food, still clutching forgotten drinks. Some other heavies ran up into the area but seemed unsure of how to act now he was in sight of these others. Two others appeared, these clad in combat armour, visored helmets concealing their faces and heavy carbines clutched across their stomachs. Enders eyed them and knew that stun rounds would not bring them down.

  Then one big individual amidst the guests raised a hand and they all halted. This man turned. He looked like he wore armour under his loose white shirt and slacks, but that was the carapace of the arthrodapt. His bald head sported saurian ridges running front to back, while mandibles folded out to reveal his human mouth.

  ‘What do you want, Trepanan?’ he asked.

  ‘Justice and peace everywhere,’ Enders replied, still striding forwards, ‘but right now you are under arrest.’ He came up before Trader John and pointed his carbine at the man’s chest.

  ‘This is interesting,’ said John. ‘How do you think this is going to work?’

  ‘I’ll take you into the city and present charges, as usual,’ said Enders.

  ‘And then what happens?’ John looked at a fancy watch on his wrist. ‘In ten hours there will be no Earth law here.’

  ‘Hold out your hands.’

  Trader John glanced around at the people here, then towards the various heavies around the top of the mound. He smiled, rattled his mandibles. Focusing on the two armoured guards, he called out, ‘Do nothing – just stand as you are.’

  Enders noted weapons being lowered, hands drawing away from holstered guns.

  ‘Very sensible,’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ said Trader John, and held out his hands.

  Enders watched him for a long moment, then stepped forwards taking a snake tie from his belt. He slapped it around the man’s wrists then caught hold of his biceps and began marching him towards the jetty.

  ‘I suppose you hoped I would resist,’ said John.

  ‘It crossed my mind,’ Enders replied.

  ‘I understand your need to do your duty,’ said John. ‘You were a soldier after all, but you understand that this is a futile demonstration.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  They clumped along the jetty to the boats. Enders paused beside one. ‘Get in.’ He unwound the rope from a bollard and tossed it in. ‘You take the wheel,’ he added, as he climbed in after John.

  They motored out into the river, John steering the boat with his tied hands. Soon the jetty, with people gathered on it, disappeared behind a curve of the river.

  ‘How is that lovely wife of yours?’ John asked.

  ‘She’s fine – looking forward to a break from Godrun and the Flats, to be honest.’

  ‘I think I’ll take her when I go back to Godrun,’ said John. ‘After I’ve killed you, of course. There’s little enough entertainment to be had in that place.’

  ‘Over there,’ said Enders, pointing to the edge of the river where a small channel cut into the mudstone.

  ‘Really? I thought you were taking me to the city?’

  Enders did not reply – jaw locked.

  ‘You’re not thinking of doing something illegal are you, monitor?’

  ‘Take the fucking boat in,’ Enders spat.

  John shrugged, apparently unconcerned, and guided the boat into the channel, finally bringing it to a halt where it ended.

  ‘Out,’ said Enders.

  Trader John climbed out of the boat. Enders followed, struggling a little to get from the boat to the rocky edge while holding his carbine. A hand reached down to assist him, free from its snake tie. Trader John smiled then heaved him up over the edge. Enders landed hard on his back and looked up in time to see John holding the carbine. He snatched for his pulse gun and fired, hitting the man on the shoulder. John staggered back, discharges all down his body, but instead of collapsing, he raised the carbine and fired. The shot hit Enders’ arm, flaying away smoking flesh. He grabbed with his other hand for his beader, but John moved in, stepping on his wrist, then slamming the butt of the carbine into his head.

  Monitor Enders woke with a groan and immediately struggled against his bonds. Trader John stepped over and hauled him up onto his knees facing the river. He walked round and squatted down in front of him, holding the pulse gun by the barrel.

  ‘You set it to stun for my guards. That doesn’t work on me.’ He tossed the gun aside, then pulled open his shirt to reveal three scars on his chest carapace, which h
e peered at, then prodded with a finger. ‘Not like last time.’ He looked up. ‘Have you any idea what they had to do to keep me alive in that hospital?’

  Enders eyed the scars. ‘She was right. I should have shot you in the head.’

  ‘Your wife,’ said John. ‘Her attitude will change.’

  Enders glared at him and said nothing.

  John waited for some further response then reached out and picked up the carbine, continuing, ‘So what was your plan? Was I to have an accident on the way to the city?’ He waited again, then said, ‘Not very policeman-like of you. Thinking you were a soldier again?’

  Enders just turned to one side and ignored him.

  John held up the carbine. ‘I like these. All the different focus settings can be so useful. Narrow beam for distance shots, and then there’s this.’ He altered settings on the side of the weapon, then unscrewed a short end section to the barrel. Pointing the carbine at a nearby shrub he triggered it. The entire shrub glared red and then burst into flame.

  ‘Do you think that lovely wife of yours… Emily… do you think she would look good wearing an induction thrall?’

  ‘Fuck you,’ said Enders, swinging back.

  ‘No no no. Fuck her. When I’m doing that I’ll fondly remember this moment.’ He turned the carbine and pointed it at Ender’s stomach. ‘I would like to take some time with you, but I’m a busy man. You know, stone people to collect and put to work, mines to run, money to be made. You understand?’

  ‘I understand that you’re –’

  John triggered the carbine and the disperse beam hit the monitor’s stomach. Enders started screaming, his clothing and his flesh smoking as John played the beam up and down. He burst into flame, oily black smoke boiling from his body. The screaming turned to a rough sawing sound as John burned away his throat, but left his face intact. Then that stopped as with a wet crackling sound he bowed forward and down over the fire. John shut off the beam and watched as Enders continued to bow, still burning, his forehead jarring against the stone.

  ‘And in the real world this is what happens to heroes,’ said Trader John.