Lockdown Tales

by Neal Asher

  ‘Really?’ said Kraven. He eyed the two. They were nothing but skin and bone, and were covered with whip marks. He shrugged. ‘Might all be over soon anyway.Earth jurisdiction now. Four mines have released their workers.’

  ‘Yeah, Pallen’s mines.Fucking coward.’

  ‘There’s that but I just heard, over on Tulse Mountain, Caber’s system went down and his workers just left.’

  ‘He let them leave – Caber’s a chicken.’

  ‘It’s a little concerning – the Earth monitor…’ Kraven drew a pistol from his holster and toyed with it.

  ‘One monitor in Godrun. What can he do? I bet Caber shut his system down himself because he’s shitting himself.’

  Kraven nodded agreement. ‘Anyway, we should at least keep things neat and tidy here.’ He nodded to the two on the frame. ‘Get rid of these two.’

  Frax turned and looked at them. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  With casual indifference, Kraven raised his weapon and shot the stone man on the right through the head. The man jerked and kicked for a little while, despite most of his skull being missing.

  ‘Damn but they take time to die,’ he said.

  ‘They’re tough, adapted – that’s why they make useful workers.’ Frax grinned. ‘Gut shoot the next one, an’ let’s see how long it takes.’

  A low humming then penetrated the air, followed by a thump as of someone beating a giant carpet. Something passed through the mine workings raising a cloud of dust.

  ‘The fuck?’ said Holse.

  They scanned around. The stone people were looking about in confusion. Then those carrying power drills just dropped them and began shrugging off their packs. Kraven looked over to the sorting troughs. The stone people there had stopped working and seemed confused. He watched a woman step away shaking her head. She then reached up and took hold of her thrall. She pulled it off her head, discarded it, and began walking away.

  Kraven holstered his pistol and began backing away, scared. With a hissing sound Frax’s power whip activated.

  ‘What the hell!’

  Frax barely seemed able to hold onto the thing, it was thrashing about like a trapped snake, then it abruptly snapped back, wrapping itself around his neck, and began strangling him. He went down on his knees, gagging.

  ‘Sir?’

  Spinning round to face one stone man, Holse drew his weapon and aimed it. A crackling ensued and he found himself gaping at his severed wrist, his hand, still clutching the weapon, on the ground. The stone man backed away, hands held out to his sides to show he was unarmed. Shooting then, from across the workings. One of the janglers had opened up with a carbine. Hissing cracks filled the air. The man’s carbine crumped and shed fire and he fell back screaming, his hands and forearms burned down to the bone. Other weapons were just detonating. Kraven saw a jangler beating one stone man abruptly beheaded by something invisible. The conveyor went over. Equipment exploded and fires bloomed all across the workings. Stone people were discarding their thralls and running.

  Kraven ran for his spider and climbed inside, setting it into motion. It dodged across the mine workings then hit the slope, climbing fast.

  ‘Come on. Come on!’

  He reached the top of the slope then headed across the ridge and down the other side. Another slope took him up to a peak where he turned the spider so he could look back at the mine workings. Yes, all was chaos, but he had no idea what was causing it. He turned the spider, ran it further, scrabbling along above a cliff. Something rose up the cliff and turned to face him. His spider just stopped, its controls becoming inert. The thing out there looked like a giant steel hoverfly with a scorpion tail.

  The drone folded down two Gatling cannons and opened fire, disintegrating the cab of the spider, and Kraven along with it. A moment later just legs and a few broken hydraulic motors stood on the cliff top.

  Sting turned away, muttering to himself. ‘Every confidence in you...’ He paused, hanging in the air. ‘But I did try,’ he added.

  He accelerated away.

  Part 3

  Logan sat up on the low wall rimming the monitor station roof and gazed out across the town. A couple of fires were burning out there and, as he watched, something exploded. He grimaced, held out his right hand and pressed his little finger down against one of the touch controls.

  ‘Is that you?’ he asked the night.

  A green light flickered on in the darkness. Whining, it scribed a circle and out of this, translucent, appeared the nightmare head of the war drone Sting.

  ‘It’s me,’ it said.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘I shut down the thrall units and explosive collars of all the stone people in Godrun,’ the drone explained. ‘There were some objections to them leaving.’

  ‘But no objections now?’

  ‘No objectors,’ the drone replied.

  Logan tilted his head in acknowledgement.

  ‘You are aware,’ said the drone, ‘that events draw to their close?’

  ‘Tell me…’

  ‘Trader John moved his house last night – he’s down on the Flats.’

  ‘I see.’ Logan paused for a moment. ‘You will take no actions yet, I assume.’

  ‘You were given control. I await your orders.’

  ‘Limited control of you,’ said Logan.

  ‘I will not act until you have located her,’ said the drone. ‘But your time for that is limited.’

  ‘Thank you, Sting.’

  The image before him winked out.

  The mercenary, Chinnery Grade, was a short individual with white spiky hair, but whether he could be called a man was debateable. Not only was half his face metal, so were his hands. He wore an armoured combat suit and his helmet, with its HUD visor, sat on the table before him. He hadn’t brought his weapons in with him, but Trader John was aware that this ‘man’ was more than capable of killing without them. However, on the table beside the helmet rested a squat esoteric looking gun with a ring-shaped magazine.

  ‘You understand the situation?’ asked John.

  ‘I understand the situation,’ Grade replied. ‘You want full control of Godrun. You want its head cut off, that monitor out of the way and the mine owners there dead. What I don’t understand is why – they ran their mines and paid you a nice percentage.’

  ‘They are no longer satisfactory – they allowed just one man to disrupt my operation.’ John grimaced and clattered his mandibles. ‘They also neglected to mention to me how well their mine workings have been doing lately. That was a fatal omission.’

  ‘Why do you care?’ asked Grade. ‘This is one of your smaller operations…’

  ‘Profit is always an issue,’ John replied, scratching below part of his carapace armour. ‘Reputation is a bigger issue still.’

  Grade shrugged. He looked doubtful. ‘I still don’t know where you are going with this, but I’ll do your job.’ Grade’s attention strayed to the two standing behind John’s chair. Here were two big men clad in heavy combat armour, their faces concealed by opaque visors, heavy complicated looking carbines clutched at port arms across their chests. ‘Nor do I understand why you hired mercenaries, when you have your own people.’

  ‘It is not necessary for you to understand.’

  ‘Quite – it is only necessary that I be paid.’

  ‘You have been paid well, and your second payment will come on completion.’

  Grade tilted his head in acknowledgement.

  ‘Good,’ John smiled. ‘Then get to it.’

  Grade stood, taking up his helmet. He then reached down, picked up the weapon and inspected it closely.

  ‘And Grade…’

  Grade looked up. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I don’t mind what you use against Godrun and the people there when you take control, but you go careful against the monitor. Be sure you understand.’ John pointed with one claw. ‘That weapon is key.’

  ‘Un
derstood.’ Grade rested the weapon across his shoulder. ‘It’s quite clear what he is.’

  Grade departed.

  Trader John sat idly in his chair for a while longer, his yellow eyes narrowed. A moment later, a woman walked in. Emily Trepanan was as beautiful now as when he first saw her. She wore a simple toga and had loose long brown hair. The thrall unit on her temple was a decorous silver thing that looked more like a piece of jewellery.

  ‘And I don’t understand what you’re doing,’ she said, her expression void.

  ‘No?’ he smiled, exposing sharp teeth. ‘It’s simple really – Grade goes in full force. He captures the monitor and takes control of Godrun and the mines. I test how far Earth will go in enforcing its laws. If it responds in force and the prador are okay with that, then the whole operation can be written off.’

  ‘A costly exercise,’ she said, still blank.

  ‘True, but the prador might not be all right with a strong response from Earth here, in which case Earth might lose jurisdiction, and I have full control here. Alternatively, if there is no response, the result is the same.’

  ‘Grade and his men… if the Earth forces go in?’

  ‘Expendable, of course.’

  John picked up a remote control and operated it. Blinds hinged open all along one wall to expose the Flat, lying beyond his relocated house. Out there Grade and his mercenaries were preparing to leave in four armoured raptors – things that looked like attack helicopters but lacking in rotors. One of them took off while they watched.

  ‘But I don’t understand why it is important to capture the monitor alive,’ said the woman. ‘Nor do I understand why we had to come out here.’ Her words were leaden – no feeling in them.

  Trader John eyed her coldly, fingering the mass of scar tissue on his chest carapace. ‘There are many things you don’t understand, my dear Emily. Suffice to say that this Monitor Logan is not quite as he appears and that I have… business with him.’

  ‘So you wanted a private meeting,’ said Logan, gazing across the wide real-wood desk at the Mayor. The man was nervous and sweating again, and Logan studied him carefully.

  ‘Yes, a private meeting,’ said Gavon. He reached over to his humidor and took out a cigar, began tapping it against his desk. ‘Trader John arrived here last night – his house is out on the Flats.’

  ‘That’s interesting, but gets me no closer to understanding what you want.’

  ‘We want an accommodation.’

  ‘You speak for the whole council?’

  ‘All but Pallen.’

  ‘Then why aren’t they here?’

  ‘They’re in the building, but I thought it would be better if I spoke to you first.’

  ‘Then speak.’

  ‘Trader John is here, while only you are here in Godrun…’

  ‘Yes…’ Logan sat back, knowing what this was about.

  ‘If Earth is establishing jurisdiction here, then why only you? Yes, you’ve used some Polity device to knock out the thralls, but surely there should be more monitors… soldiers… mechanisms…’

  ‘Oh I see now,’ said Logan. ‘You’re scared of Trader John.’

  ‘When he gets what he wants he is perfectly reasonable. When not…’ Gavon spread his hands. ‘The situation has to be one way or the other. Either Earth in full control or him. Any other way is chaos.’

  ‘And of course John wants his full cut of your profits, and not the rather reduced amount you have been sending him…’

  Gavon lit his cigar and puffed on it in agitation. ‘Yes, John can be… excessive.’

  Logan leaned forwards. ‘Let me tell you how it’s going to run. John’s people will come here seeking to, just as you put it, push the situation one way or the other. He’ll come after me but he’ll come in strong. He’ll want to be sure regarding whether Earth has full jurisdiction or not. He’ll push for a reaction and people here are going to die. The first to die will be those who haven’t been paying him what he feels he is owed.’

  ‘You’re the Earth monitor – you’re supposed to protect us.’

  ‘I protect the innocent.’ Logan stood. ‘From where I am standing there is not one person in this town who has not been part of the enslavement of the stone people, and who has not been culpable in many other crimes, including murder.’

  ‘That’s bullshit,’ said Gavon. ‘Others work here who have nothing to do with the mining.’

  ‘Everyone is here for the money the mining generates, and all have neglected to notice the crimes being committed around them.’ Logan shrugged.

  ‘That’s it? That’s your final word?’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Logan, turning away. He paused at the door and glanced back. Gavon was already pulling a small com unit towards him. Logan smiled again and headed away.

  The lobby was clear of people, even the woman behind the glass, still punctured with a bullet hole, was gone. He exited through the colonnade, out onto the street, turned and began heading back towards the station. Then a shot rang out, and the impact flung him sprawling face down on the stone walkway. He rolled onto his back, then rolled again to drop from the kerb between the treads of a parked crawler. Smoke was rising from his back – a big, burned hole there. He dragged himself past a tread and peeked down the street. About twenty janglers were coming up the road. The one in the middle, a tall thin man in a long duster, was cradling a flack-shell carbine with a telescopic sight.

  ‘You got him?’ asked a man at this one’s side.

  ‘He ain’t getting up,’ said the tall man. ‘I just blew his spine out.’

  Logan rolled out, came up into a crouch and levelled his rail beader. A short burst flipped over five men in clouds of atomised blood. He fired again dropping two more, but then return fire threw him back, bullet after bullet slamming into his body. He lay there, perfectly still for a moment, then abruptly sat up. He held up his beader again and triggered it, but nothing happened. He peered down at the severed power cable.

  ‘What the fuck are you?’ called the tall man.

  He and the remaining janglers were now crouching or had taken cover behind crawlers. Logan surveyed the numerous weapons pointed at him.

  ‘I’m your worst nightmare. I’m a monitor who just won’t die, guys.’ He began to stand, but then heard a roaring from behind.

  He looked round to see an armoured raptor sliding down the street. Its guns roared tearing up men and crawlers in a running explosion of blood and debris. The tall man just disintegrated. The firing stopped and the raptor came on past Logan and opposite the council building, the effect of its grav engines flicking up dust and scraps of clothing. It turned, facing the offices, and fired two missiles. These gutted the building, but the raptor just sat there in the back-blast unaffected. Logan stood, watched it for a moment, then holstered his beader.

  ‘Welcome to Godrun, Trader John,’ he said.

  As the raptor swung towards him, he turned and ran.

  At the controls of his raptor, Grade watched the monitor running along the street. He opened up with the Gatlings, tearing up everything behind the man but not actually hitting him.

  ‘Trader John said not to kill him,’ said, Shafer, the mercenary beside him.

  ‘We might kill him,’ said Grade, ‘but it would have to be a very lucky shot.’

  Shafer looked over, curious.

  Grade reached down beside his seat and picked up the weapon Trader John had given him: a short wide-barrelled thing with a ring-shaped magazine. He pulled one of the glassy shells out of that magazine and held it up for Shafer’s inspection. Its nose was a ring of short barbed spikes, while electronics packed its translucent body.

  ‘Disruptor bullet,’ said Shafer. ‘So he really is…’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ said Grade. ‘And tactically that’s how we regard him.’ He now spoke into his headset. ‘Keep him running. We want him out in the open when we take him – drive him towards the square.’
/>   ‘Ah fuck,’ a voice replied. ‘He just ducked into –’

  ‘I see it,’ said Grade. ‘Take that building apart. Start with the top floor and work your way down.’

  ‘Civilians?’ someone enquired.

  ‘Not our concern, and if they are this monitor’s concern, he won’t use their houses for cover again.’

  Another raptor fired a missile that blew the top off one of the foamstone houses. Just as Grade instructed it worked its way down. By the time there was little left of the house, people spilled out the back and ran. Grade’s HUD picked out the monitor running close to the row of houses. He strafed behind the running figure, then swore as Logan turned and kicked down a door entering yet another building.

  ‘Seems he doesn’t care much for the civilians,’ Shafer observed.

  ‘Okay,’ said Grade, calling up a town map in his visor. ‘We run him up Sapphire Street. Incendiaries in every building along there. Keep him running.’ He paused. ‘I’m loading tactical data constantly so watch your HUDs.’

  Two raptors flew along Sapphire Street shooting missiles out of side cannons into each building as they passed. Behind, the buildings gouted fire from their windows and some of them came down. At the end of the street, one of the raptors turned and hovered. The other shot up and over and began to demolish the house the monitor had dived into for cover.

  Grade, now high up, gazed down at another explosion in the town and marked another tick on the map displayed in his HUD.

  ‘That was the monitor station,’ said Shafer.

  ‘Yeah,’ Grade agreed, ‘but for the monitor himself this place is headless now.’

  ‘Bit harsh, don’t you think, Trader John?’ Grade looked at him and he continued, ‘The council building, the homes of every semi-independent mine owner plus business premises?’

  Grade shrugged. ‘He wanted us to be harsh. Seems you don’t take more than your fair share of his profits.’

  ‘You sure it’s just that?’ asked Shafer.

  ‘Not for me to be sure or otherwise so long as he makes that final payment.’