Lockdown Tales

by Neal Asher

  The thing was on him before he could even get to his carbine. It reared up and brought its serrated forelimbs down on his shoulders and only his instinctive grab for it, closing his hand around its ‘neck’ prevented the mandibles from tearing into his face. Awkwardly, with his left hand, he reached across and grabbed the carbine, aware that the other mantids were closing in. He thrust the weapon forwards and just as awkwardly got a finger to the firing button. A flash of red and purple partially blinded him and the creature jerked away, leaving one of its limbs still gripping his right shoulder. It thrashed on the path before him and he kicked it as hard in the head as he could, flipping it over onto the side of the path. Bringing the weapon stock up against his shoulder he fired again at half seen movement to his right, and saw the mantid there retreat in flames with a whickering clattering sound. Turning left he saw another rising and this time managed a head shot, the head exploding in burning fragments and the thing dropped away. Taking a breath, he peeled the limb off his shoulder and discarded it. A switch seemed to click down then and looking to the horizon he saw the last of the sun wink out. Darkness would descend very quickly now. He turned to Snooper.

  ‘Go home,’ he instructed the robot, and it quickly scuttled ahead of him along the path. Hopefully it would distract any mantids ahead until, by some manner he had yet to divine, they realised it wasn’t edible. He then grabbed up the barrow and, charged with adrenaline, towed it just as fast as he could after the robot.

  Finally his house came into sight, while around him he could hear the stalking mantids and other sounds indicating other unsavoury night denizens. It surprised him to get right up to the building without being attacked. There he unbolted the door to let Snooper inside, turned the barrow round and readied himself to push it in, but as something landed on him from above, he realised that he had not checked the roof. He swung at the thing with both fists, the impact on carapace sending him staggering because this one was bigger and heavier than those he had seen earlier. A smell like perfume impinged and the sound of clattering mandibles. He swung the carbine round and fired, hitting the side of the mantid’s thick almond-shaped body. Its feet clattering on the wooden porch; it shifted sideways, mandibles dripping, and of course more terrifying now the light had faded.

  The thing skittered back and raised its long saw-tooth forelimbs. Smoke boiled from the wound in its side, but not enough. He fired again, burning into its thorax, but the shot did not have the effect he expected and merely seared the surface. The creature backed off again, however, so he turned and pushed the barrow over the threshold into his shack. Inside the door he turned and fired again as the mantid lunged at him. His shot seared it again and it veered away, thrashing its body against the ground, its stunted wings lifting. He fired once more and in the smoke the laser spread like a torch beam, merely lighting the creature up in all its grisly magnificence. Ben quickly grabbed the door and slammed it just as the creature hit it from the other side. Shouldering against the wood as it jerked against him and threatened to throw him across the room, he managed to slide one bolt across. On the next blow this half tore out its fixings, but he managed to slide another across, then another, then finally drop the first of two locking bars into their loops, then the other.

  The mantid thumped against the door twice more, then he heard it moving around the house clattering its mandibles. He breathed out a sigh of relief but then, abruptly the clattering transitioned into a stuttering squeal, terminated with a crunch, then further crunching and the sound of fluid trickling to the ground. A short while later, almost expected, he heard a familiar whickering out in the darkness, then a measured heavy tread coming up to his door, the floor shifting as its weight rested on the porch. It pushed against the door for a moment, the wood creaking, then the Stalker hit it hard raising splinters and dust from the inside and nearly lifting one of the locking bars out. He should go back and put his weight against it, hold that bar down, but found he could not move. The thing out there took a long sniff at the door, then hissed. He heard it moving away but did not trust that for a moment. He just stood there until he found himself shivering, then pushing himself into motion again.

  He stared at his carbine, its power now down to zero. Had the thing known, somehow? The last time it had been around here had been another occasion when he came back late and the innocular flies were out. He’d glimpsed the thing out in the darkness and simply fired at it without any other consideration. It had made a horrible grunting and he’s seen fire before it disappeared from sight. Later it had attacked the house trying to tear through a wall, before going away again. The next day he found long splinters torn from the logs but nothing that needed repair. Or, he wondered, was it always out and about around here in the darkness? He turned and looked at the contents of his wheelbarrow, and wondered if his find had been worth this new insight. His sleep might not be so good now. Nevertheless, he staggered over to his bed and crashed down on it, and was asleep before even considering a more comfortable position.

  Ben woke in darkness and panic. Had he properly locked the door? And had he closed the window shutters before he went out? He just didn’t know because these being tasks he had done so many times he did them automatically. He tried to move but his body felt sore from head to foot and his limbs fizzed with a sick heat. He lay their trying to get into motion but instead fell asleep again.

  The second time he woke was to the sound of something squealing out in the darkness, and adrenaline got his legs off the bed and his feet on the floor before he realised how much pain he was in. Yet, oddly, because it was not the specific pain in his back nailing him in place, but in every joint and his back, it seemed somehow more bearable. In pitch black he reached over to the head of the bed, found the light switch and clicked it on. The single panel in the ceiling glowed to life flooding the shack with sun-bright light. He had only felt it necessary to use one panel at a time of the five he had recovered from the shuttle. He was now down to three. The things did not fade or change colour like the beam of his carbine had, but just blinked off after maybe ten years of use, and nothing he did could get them working again.

  Thinking on that he turned his attention to the carbine lying on the floor, and with slow care stooped to pick it up. A brief inspection showed him the battery so depleted it could not even fire up the display on the side. Perhaps that had been the problem? Perhaps if he could replace the battery the beam would return to its usual colour and coherence? His gaze wandered to the load in the barrow. Perhaps that smaller podule would provide? He shook his head and listened. Was the Stalker still out there? Would it try to get in? Was it even the same creature as he had first seen?

  It had been fifteen solstan years ago, after he had built the house. The prior years had well taught him that you did not go out at night and during his first year in the house he made a thicker and more secure door and window shutters. The windows themselves had no glass, but retrieving metal from the shuttle he did give them bars. He had been out digging up podules as usual but was late returning. He had been relatively fit then and confident and so stayed out later – mainly to lure in some mantids to complement his food supply. Then the visor of his envirosuit had not been so hazy and he felt that adequate protection against the innocular flies. At first when he saw it, he thought rescue had arrived, for a big human stood on the plain gazing towards him. He raised a hand, suddenly joyful, but the man stooped forwards and, down on all fours, came charging towards him like a silverback gorilla, grunting and whickering. This was no man. He opened fire on the thing, hitting one shoulder, the flash lighting up carapace and gleaming metallic eyes. The creature swerved and disappeared behind a clump of podule foliage. Not so confident any more he pushed his barrow back to the house and closed the door. The next day he found mantid remains scattered all about the area and had to hunt further afield for them until their population grew again, sure in the knowledge now that they weren’t the apex predator here.

  Perhaps that was i
t? Perhaps this creature was a roving hunter and had only returned here because the mantid population was once again high. And of course he had no idea if the one he had just heard was the same one he had first seen, or that other sightings were of the same creature. He didn’t really know which case was the more frightening. Damn it. He just had to continue. The thing had failed to get to him and he would take more care about getting back to the house before nightfall for he had never seen it out and about in daylight.

  Anyway, now he had work to do.

  Putting aside the carbine he grimly heaved himself to his feet, went to the barrow, took out the larger podule and, struggling with its weight, brought it over to his kitchen table. He took an ever reliable and sharp chainglass knife from a rack and careful not to cut too deep sliced through the tough rind from the top, the cuts dividing the thing into four quarters. He then used a blunt metal knife to work under that rind, peeling it away from white pith, exposing translucent ‘seeds’ much like those of a pomegranate but each the size of his fist. With the rind folded down to the table he stripped away much of the pith and discarded it in his waste bin, for he had not yet found any use for it. He then used the knife to open gaps between the top seeds, shoved his hands inside and peeled the thing open.

  Some of the seeds were completely opaque, others translucent with objects visible inside. Snooper had already green-lighted the podule so he knew everything here was edible. He recognised some of the seeds: the pale green ones contained a paste like avocado with a hint of orange, the dark brown ones were like raw beef, objects inside some of them were spherical nuts with familiar tastes, and all the variations on yellow were like cheese. Those he did not recognise would be a taste adventure, though he would try them with more caution than he had used when trying a red paste that turned out to be chilli. He freed them all from their pith, wiped them with a damp cloth and piled them in ancient plastic boxes in the fridge. Then he cleaned down the table and went to get the other podule.

  This one opened up just like the first, contained seeds similar to the other but darker and often with a hint of metal. Once he had them all cleaned and laid out on the table he inspected each carefully, putting aside those whose contents he knew. Snooper’s green light here had really been no help, since it only indicated that the podule had produced what it was supposed to produce. Edibility wasn’t the question. All those seeds he could not identify he put over on a counter for later investigation. He did not hold out hope of finding much, but occasionally they contained items or substances he could recognise and use. Many other items that had utterly baffled him he had stored in one of his large collection of cupboards, while pastes and liquids he had found he had put in a growing number of containers he collected from bottle bamboo growing near the mountains. All these were a source of activity for him during the long nights – taking them out and trying to figure what they were.

  With those that remained he began with three metallic grey seeds, stabbing in the chainglass knife till hitting something hard then cutting round it. He opened each, spilling out small stacks of grey rectangles which, when he separated, revealed their metallic plug-in connections. He now had more capacitor batteries to plug into those he used to store power from the panels. He eyed the carbine, wondering if he should make the attempt at changing its power supply. The thing was security sealed and would be a bastard to get inside, and he was pretty sure that with the density of its power supply he would need a carry pack of these capacitor batteries to power it, supposing that it was its power supply that had gone wrong. Later, he decided.

  Another seed, translucent with something jet black inside, revealed another stack that immediately fell into separate pieces. These had post plugs and sockets along the edges and mated together there. He put them in a cupboard with the rest. When he had enough he would climb up on the roof and plug them into the growing solar panel up there – a useful addition since the ones from the shuttle were steadily losing efficiency. Other seeds revealed connectors, transformers and other plug-and-play electronics. He found one containing small light squares that fitted into his rechargeable torch. Still more rendered varieties of ceramic items he could use for fixing this and that, but had little idea of their original purpose. Some looked like plumbing fittings, while others looked like components that might fit in Snooper. The remainder he put aside unopened since they contained liquids and pastes he knew.

  Finally, with all the seeds opened and their contents cleaned, he tried to stand up to put them away, but his legs felt numb and his back registered pain right up to the base of his skull. He looked over at the Golem android still lying in the barrow and knew that though he wanted to set to work on it, he couldn’t right then. Swearing and wincing he pushed against the pain and paralysis, managed at last to heave up from the chair and stagger over to the bed to lie down. Sleep finally arrived after a long uncomfortable time, and it felt like dying.

  The pain had diminished when he woke up again, and he did so damning himself for not turning off the light, though also recognised that it had felt reassuring to have it on. He eased up into a sitting position on the bed and gazed again at the Golem android, but deferred setting to work on it. Instead he commenced the lengthy procedure of removing his envirosuit and underclothes. Thankfully he had no catheters to pull out since he had cut them from the suit long ago, along with related recycling equipment. As soon as he undid the suit and began pulling it off, his own stink made him wince. Then he got angry and despite the aches and pains quickly shed the thing. Before putting it to one side he inspected it. The various patches he had made from seat material from the shuttle were still in place, stuck with excellent podules glue, as were the boot soles, made of slices of turtle-tree leaves. He turned the suit inside out ready for cleaning and put it aside.

  His underclothes – absorbent white trunks that extended down to his knees and a long-sleeved tight fitting top – were stained with the exudations from the lesions on his body. Removing them was painful, and one wound on his hip started bleeding when he peeled the material away. He dumped them in a heap beside the suit.

  Next stepping into his shower, he allowed a little water over his body before turning it off again. He did have a solar water heater on the roof, but it wouldn’t be working now and the only warm water he had left would be a few gallons in a small insulated tank. With his body wet he washed himself with a sponge and liquid soap – both taken from a podule some ‘days’ before. He cleaned his nails until no sign of dirt showed, used scissors he had made from hull metal to crop his hair and beard as close to his skin as possible, brushed his teeth and then finally rinsed himself down.

  When he stepped out he felt better – that being a relative thing. He dressed the lesions using leaves he had collected stuck in place with more podules glue. It probably wasn’t best to help them heal, but it did prevent the stains in his clothing. He then dressed in jeans and ever-white shirt turned a shade of yellow from his store of clothing. He had no idea who the shirt belonged to. Probably it had been Mickonsel’s – the last to die.

  He pulled on slippers he had woven from plant fibre – stuck together with some podule glue too – then turned his attention to the inside of his body. Using some of his battery power, he heated water for the rare treat of coffee – again from a podule – but decided not to cook anything since he might need the power when he set to work on the android. Instead he ate a selection of nutritious pastes, nuts and some bright yellow cheese that tasted lemony. Now he was ready.

  Ben moved a chair into the middle of the main room, tipped the android out of the wheelbarrow then lifted her into the chair. It seemed much easier to move her this time, probably because he felt a lot better. He put a strap around the chair seat and over the legs to hold her in place. Next pulling over his tool box from the shuttle and boxes of other tools he had made or taken from podules, he paused to give her a long inspection.

  The plasmel wrapping she had been in had decayed and he knew that stuff
did not decay over any stretch of time he had known. She must have been in the ground a long time. However, that wrapping had obviously protected her because her syntheskin and flesh showed no signs of breakdown. He set to work removing first the remains of overalls then charred sytheflesh and skin, cutting back with a chainglass knife to where it wasn’t burned or otherwise cooked. His back soon beginning to ache he pulled over another chair and sat as he worked, and soon had the burned half of the face cleaned down to the composite skull, revealing white teeth and an eyeball with a blue iris. It was a start. As a shuttle technician he knew the best way to approach work like this was to clean all the crap out first so he could see what he was doing.

  Setting to work on the lower torso, he found little that had not been cooked, so ended up stripping away all the syntheflesh and skin from below ersatz breasts to the composite hip bones and pubis. Pulling this away revealed a packed mass with burned optics, fused and melted electronic and mechanical components, and others he had no idea about. He inspected some fibrous white strands wondering if they were part of her system. No. He began pulling them out – long thread roots probably from podules. Certainly she had a venous system and quite probably nano-factories for making nanites to send out into that to reach throughout the body, but they weren’t it. He started to realise that some of the stuff wasn’t actually melted but had been made that shape – spread over and connecting other components like growths of metallic fungus. Perhaps he was wasting his time, but then, he had time to waste. He decided he would first just stick with what he knew – the gross electrics and optics – and see where that got him before fiddling with anything else.