Lockdown Tales

by Neal Asher

  ‘We’ve got him,’ he said, and then tilted his head to listen for a moment before turning to Jonas. ‘What happened?’

  The adrenaline must have gone straight to his brain, because he had excuses and explanations he had rehearsed with Caster clear in his mind.

  ‘The hooder broke out,’ he said tightly, struggling to get the words past that clamping hand. ‘I think that woman Ganzen fed it…’

  The man held up a finger, silencing him and listened some more. Jonas meanwhile opened the link in his aug to Caster, allowing her to hear what he was hearing and see what he was seeing.

  ‘Jonas?’

  He didn’t reply – too busy marshalling his thoughts.

  ‘Explain what you mean about the woman,’ said the mercenary, as the one holding Jonas relaxed his grip a little. Meanwhile the other two moved past and then broke into a trot down the corridor.

  ‘She had some kind of weapon that blew up – Ganzen knows about that. I think it must have damaged the enclosure. The inside of the door is all burned and it must have affected the glass because the hooder broke it down.’

  Again some listening, then a nod. ‘Chard, take him to a holding cell.’ The man moved after the other two. ‘Then we might need some help. We’re to drive it back to the lab and keep it there till Ganzen gets a crew down.’

  ‘Keep it there?’ asked Chard.

  ‘Apparently – too valuable to kill.’ He moved off.

  As the man rounded a corner after the others Chard jerked Jonas away from the wall and shoved him stumbling along the corridor.

  ‘Your name is Chard?’ Jonas asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your friends are going to have some problems.’

  ‘No shit.’

  Talk for talk’s sake while he slowed and allowed the guy to get closer. He dropped the cylinder into his hand, deliberately stumbled so Chard came closer, then turned and stabbed for his face. But Chard moved too quickly. The flat of his hand came up and hit Jonas’ forearm a numbing blow. The cylinder left his hand and hit the wall, discharging there with a flash and gust of oily smoke before dropping to the floor with a clatter that released the knife. They both looked at it, then at each other. Jonas felt the horror of realisation tighten his guts. No lie could cover this. He had tried to take the man out and now it would be obvious to him, and to Ganzen, that this was all some kind of escape attempt. Jonas saw that room in his mind, and saw Dr Giggles coming out from underneath his bench. Chard drew a weapon from his belt and pointed it, and Jonas recognised a pepper pot stun gun.

  ‘Walk ahead of me and don’t try anything stupid again,’ said Chard. ‘In this suit it’s no more trouble for me to carry you than have you walk.’

  Jonas moved ahead, the shakes starting to hit him again. He simply could not end up in that room again, yet he could see no way clear. He just hoped Caster was on the move – that she could get away without him. He walked carefully, hands held out to his sides, as he frantically tried to think of some way to escape, because unconscious there would be no chance. Just then a hollow boom resounded and the whole of the Fist shuddered. Jonas staggered to one side and heard the familiar slapping sound of the stunner firing. Narcotic beads hissed along one wall of the corridor. He stepped away from there, turning, hands held up.

  ‘The fuck was that?’ Chard wondered.

  He obviously hadn’t meant to fire the weapon by the way he was looking at it.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Jonas replied.

  Chard touched his collar, listened, and as he did so the look he gave Jonas was not pleasant at all.

  ‘The fucking thing is weaponised, and they found what was left of Hoskins.’ He listened some more, then nodded. ‘You are so going to be having a lot of giggle time.’

  Jonas stared at him and didn’t know how to respond. If the man had been pointing a weapon that could kill him he would have attacked. But if he attacked now he suspected the next place he would wake up would be in a surgical chair.

  ‘I’m coming for you,’ said Caster. The words were clear but with dazzling internal visual effects. He felt certain her hack had damaged his aug, and that had now been exacerbated by something the hooder had used – perhaps some scan radiation to ascertain how to break that chainglass window. Irrelevant now, really. He ached for the idea of rescue, but his self-esteem won out.

  ‘Do not come for me,’ he told her. ‘Just get out like we planned.’

  ‘Keep moving,’ said Chard.

  Jonas turned and continued along the corridor, turned right when told, then left.

  ‘Door on your right,’ said Chard.

  Jonas turned to it as the man came up beside him, pressing the nose of the stunner into his neck as he palmed the control. Locks clicked and he pushed it open.

  ‘Inside.’

  Just a plain blank cell – its only furnishing being a single toilet and water spigot in one corner. He supposed they only provided that because they did not want to clear up any mess. Chard gave him a shove as he entered and he stumbled to the middle of the room and turned.

  ‘This will all be over before you wake up,’ the mercenary told him.

  Jonas raised his hands and was about to protest. The cloud of beads, loaded with neurotoxin hit him in the chest. He staggered back into the wall, felt the wind knocked out of him and numbness spreading, tried to throw himself back upright at Chard, but just slapped a hand weakly against the floor. Then the lights went out.

  Bright light surrounded Jonas and, after just a moment of confusion, terror surged as he felt sure he would find himself in that other room, sitting in the surgical chair. He didn’t want to open his eyes to bring himself into that scene and just lay there feeling sick, with his body aching. But then, aware that he was physically in the wrong position to be in a surgical chair, he opened his eyes.

  He was on his side on the floor, with his back against the wall. The cell was incredibly bright – the whole ceiling emitting an almost sunlight glow. He guessed they added sleep deprivation to whatever else they did to people they kept here. Painfully easing upright he sat there trying to nail down something that had felt wrong here since the moment he woke up. Then he realised he felt as if he were in some moving vehicle. The cell kept shifting, jerking, and when he put his hand against the floor he felt a constant vibration. Some other mechanism to keep inmates from sleeping?

  He climbed to his feet – he needed to get mobile to take any opportunity for escape presented, and he needed to have a close look at that door, because perhaps he could break out? He needed to do something. He used the toilet then drank from the water spigot. The water had a chemical slightly salty taste and he puzzled at it for a moment before abruptly vomiting in the toilet. Certainly they wanted to make things uncomfortable for the prisoners. He walked, trying to get the numb stiffness out of his limbs. The light waned and he lay on the floor again, started to drift into sleep, then came out of it abruptly, heart thudding, when a loud clattering sounded behind one wall and the lights came up again. He realised some cell program had initiated in here from when he woke. He paced again, felt thirst growing, and then tiredness again almost certainly a result of the stunner. He tried his aug and found not only the kaleidoscope lights but the network of the Fist slow and disrupted, though he could see that Caster had tried to contact him a couple of times. He tried her, but received no reply. One more time the weariness took him down to the floor, but this time the door opening woke him.

  ‘Get up,’ said Chard.

  The man looked harried. His armour shed grey ash as he stepped in and a molten scar ran down one leg. He drew that stunner again.

  ‘Get the fuck up. He wants you.’

  Jonas swung round into a sitting position. He saw no reason now to avoid being stunned if Chard intended to take him to Doctor Giggles – that would at least delay the inevitable. Chard took a step towards him, and he abruptly reconsidered. He’d just seen two people in Ganzen overalls run past th
e door and now he could smell smoke. Something was certainly happening out there and this meant more chances to escape. He stood and walked slowly forwards, then through the door as Chard backed out ahead of him. The man then gestured along the corridor with his weapon.

  Definitely something was happening. The shaking and the odd jerking of the ship he could feel even more out here. A layer of smoke swirled along the ceiling and, as he walked, he could feel grav plates fluctuating under his feet. At one point the lights went out, but Chard was on him in a moment with the weapon pressed into his back until they came on again. They reached a junction and Jonas stopped, because a group of people was crowding along the corridor – Ganzen staff in distinctive overalls or lab jackets, execs in businesswear. Once they were past he stepped out, damning himself for not diving in amongst them because maybe he could have got away then.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

  ‘Like you don’t fucking know,’ said Chard.

  Jonas halted and turned towards him. ‘Actually, I don’t.’

  ‘I told you to keep damned well moving!’

  Chard stepped towards him, pulling back the weapon ready to hit him. He stepped back. ‘Look, I really don’t know!’ But he did, and the idea sent a shiver down his spine.

  ‘Get ready to drop to the floor,’ Caster told him in an explosion of broken emeralds.

  Jonas shook his head. Her speaking to him now felt like too much input. She wasn’t making any sense. Why did she say that?

  ‘Drop now!’

  Conscious thought being merely a surface to the subconscious, the latter took over. Jonas dropped without knowing why until he hit the floor and pulse rifle fire flashed in the corridor like a transformer short circuit. He rolled to one side and looked up to see Chard staggering backwards and knew that only the assist of his suit was keeping him upright. The top right quarter of the man’s skull was gone, with the remainder of his brain hanging out and steaming. The man took another step then went over with a crash.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Jonas.

  ‘Come on!’ Caster ran up carrying a pulse rifle. She was clad in an envirosuit and had another one slung over her shoulder. Jonas stood up, trying to get his mind back into motion.

  ‘That was a hell of a shot,’ he said.

  ‘We talked about this,’ she replied, and held out the envirosuit to him.

  They had, even before his recent encounter with Hoskins. He had discovered she was old like him and they had talked about how, them being ‘scientists’, some seemed to discount their skill set – old standard lifetimes of skills.

  ‘I told you to run,’ he said, stupidly feeling miffed because she had not done what he said nor acknowledged his sacrifice.

  ‘Come on, we have to go,’ she told him as he looked at the suit. ‘You don’t have time to put it on now.’

  Jonas began thinking clearly again. He could not afford any more moments of bafflement and he could not afford any more slip ups. Abruptly turning away he went over to Chard and relieved the man of his main weapon – a stubby laser carbine – energy canisters, and a sidearm pulse gun. He did not bother with the stunner because he very much doubted he would choose unconsciousness as an option for anyone they encountered. Weighing the weapons he felt a sudden lightness in himself. Now, no matter what happened, he would not end up back in that room with Dr Giggles. He would put the barrel of the pulse gun in his mouth first.

  They ran on, Caster leading. Intermittent map display in his aug got him their location and that she was taking them back to the route already planned. A huge crash shifted the Fist again and sent Caster down on her face. As he pulled her to her feet the shaking of the structure became a shuddering, and now he could hear stuttering and electrical hissing, cracks and booms of weapons’ fire. They staggered into a room as the ship jerked violently yet again. This was someone’s apartment – hastily abandoned. Jonas quickly shed his clothing while heading over into a kitchen area, found a drinks fridge and downed a carton of some fruit-coconut concoction, then began pulling on the envirosuit, catheters engaging, the thing powering up. It was better than his old version – he felt the tightening of assist ready to kick in, for the thing had a sliding layer meta-material structure.

  ‘How did you get the pulse rifle?’ he asked.

  ‘I’d planned on getting it all along,’ she replied. ‘I will not be captured again.’

  Her thought was much his own.

  ‘You never told me,’ he said, but it wasn’t an accusation. He perfectly understood her need to keep this option to herself – her fear of telling him and him perhaps blurting this news while receiving the attentions of Dr Giggles. She simply shrugged.

  ‘What’s happening out there?’ he asked.

  ‘The hooder is happening.’ She shook her head. ‘Data are difficult at the moment, but I have never seen something wreck things so fast, besides some major weapon. Ganzen tried to contain it – I don’t think many of his men made it out alive.’

  Jonas nodded, then looked at her. ‘It is a major weapon.’

  She acknowledged that with a sharp impatient nod.

  With the pulse gun shoved in his belt, he checked the operation of the laser carbine, thankful to find it wasn’t code locked to its owner. He then took out the pulse gun and checked that wasn’t either. They opened the door again, to immediately pull back coughing and quickly close up their suit hoods and visors. The smoke in the corridor was flowing quickly in one direction, which could mean atmosphere breach. Jonas peered through it the way they had been heading, puzzling over something that did not look right there. Then the smoke cleared and he saw that the floor walls and ceiling of the corridor just ended.

  ‘What the hell?’ An icon came up in his visor – comlink to one other suit – and he blinked at it to open it. ‘What the hell is this?’ he added.

  Caster moved forwards and he followed her to where the grav had gone out in the floor. Beyond, a great hollow had been carved out in the heart of the ship, all the structure compressed into tangled junk piles. Looking up at a sloping surface above, he tapped Caster’s shoulder and pointed. One of the armoured mercenaries had been opened up and spread in an even mandala across that surface, his armour neatly divided up with the rest of his body, blood painted in arcs and spirals that matched across a centre point like a Rorschach blot. Then, over on the far side of this hollow, a mound of wreckage shifted and the hooder came up through it. Larger now and completely bone white, the thing swung its body in a circle cutting the wreckage into a funnel shape. Jonas now remembered something he had heard on Masada about a legendary albino hooder – one that made sculptures out of the bones of its prey. He had always thought the story apocryphal.

  ‘Come on!’ Caster shouted. ‘We’ll find another way!’

  Such had been his fascination he had not seen her head off. He turned to run after her then paused as the hooder swung its hood towards him. A brief instant of something passed and that reflected in internal vision – an unfolding mandala of crystal lights. Recognition? Then the thing fountained out of its hole, hooped up and over and slammed down again, ripples of some energy running down its body, ahead of it wreckage swirling and turning molten as it dived in and disappeared.

  They kept running, took a route around that wrecked area, and headed for the airlock they had chosen. Grav stuttered and went out and thereafter they began propelling themselves along slapping feet and hands against anything available. They passed over an area where a hole had been punched through one wall, tearing up the floor, then through the other. Peering in each direction, Jonas saw it curving off through the ship. They passed two more of these, each going through the corridor from different angles and he visualised the vessel as a worm-eaten apple. Further along they found the tiger.

  ‘What the hell?’ wondered Caster.

  Hell indeed, Jonas thought. Perhaps, as with that woman, the animal had contained some trace element the hooder had needed, because most of
it was gone. The skin lay stuck to the floor with blood, spread out like a rug. The teeth had been neatly placed in an arc ahead of the head skin, while the claws lay in similar arcs just beyond the skin of each limb. What made the hooder leave the remains of its prey like this? He looked towards the hole down through the ceiling, noting there had been no exit hole, noted the pulse fire scars along the walls. Had the hooder taken Ganzen?

  They moved on and, though the ship continued to shudder, the sounds of weapons’ fire receded behind them. Jonas realised they were approaching their destination when they entered a corridor with square chainglass ports running down one side. These gave the illusion of being able to look directly out into vacuum, but he knew that fibre optics through the ship’s armour provided the image.

  ‘Damn,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll have to get to one of the escape pods,’ said Caster.

  The port showed no sign of the construction bay in which the Fist had resided, just a sparse star field. Some of that movement they had felt earlier must have been the ship undocking and heading away from Moloch Three. This made no sense. The structures linking it to Porrit Town had looked solid and permanent, while the clamps and robot infrastructure about the vessel had not moved in an age.

  ‘Why would Ganzen do this?’ he wondered as he followed her.

  ‘I can think of no reason,’ she replied.

  He considered what that might imply then, after struggling to call up aug menus, felt a lack of surprise to see that though the ship’s internal network still functioned, the blocking was down. Supposing his busted aug could manage it, he should now be able link to the network of Moloch Three, which in turn linked to the Polity – if Ganzen had not actually shut down the transceivers for that purpose. Labouring to open links he found the feeds spotty and slow, disappearing in migraine lights, but he could get through. Then someone got through to him.

  >So you certainly stirred things up here.

  He caught hold of Caster’s shoulder, pointed to his aug and included her.