The God Mars Book Four: Live Blades (38 page)

I’ve heard of it, but only as a risk to infants in a
bath or those tending our underground reservoir tanks, who wear
full pressure suits to work submerged. The others look variously
concerned and/or disturbed. All of us are well out of familiar
reality here. We put on the flimsy-seeming vests.

“Good. Please…”

Jed gestures for us to take a steep and narrow flight
of steps—almost a ladder—down to the deck level. It’s down low
enough below the upper edge of the hull—about three meters—that we
can no longer see the world around us. When we set foot on the
deck, I notice it’s become significantly warmer, as if the air is
being heated.

“Where’s your crew?” Bly questions. There doesn’t
seem to be another living soul on board.

“No crew. Just me,” Jed continues to be aggravatingly
casual. “The ship is a biotech hybrid. Grown. Growing. Alive. Based
on an old Earth design. Very beautiful, yes? A marvel of early
engineering. Mankind throwing themselves out into their oceans—the
oceans of Earth cover more surface area than this whole planet, did
you know that?”

“A frigate,” Bly decides.

“A barque, actually,” Jed corrects him. “It has to do
with the masts. No square sails on the aft mast.” Bly seems to
understand that, nods his helmet. But the idea that we’re standing
inside a massive construct of active biological nanotechnology is
almost more disturbing than the idea that I’m hopelessly infected
by a hostile AI.

My sword is
still
silent. It strikes me that
we’re surrounded by nanotech. My blade should be trying to
interface, maybe even consume, but it’s not doing much of anything.
It could very well be just a normal sword right now. I try to
discreetly draw it from its scabbard, just to see what it will do,
but it won’t budge. It’s locked in.

“Your blades have agreed to behave themselves for the
passage,” Jed reveals me. “An old fable about a scorpion and a frog
comes to mind, but I expect their AI to be smarter about honoring
their bargain, if only because they have too much to lose,
including themselves. They had a difficult enough time finding
their way to your world. The Border is unstable on a good day, and
this day isn’t particularly calm. Things can and do get lost trying
to cross the water. And no, Elias, I don’t feel like trying to
explain the physics of it at the moment. Now, if you’ll excuse me,
we’ll get underway. Please stay away from the rail for your own
safety.”

He goes to another set of stairs, climbs up to a
railed catwalk that spans the hull from side to side, level with
the topside. In the center of this literal “bridge” is a large
spoked wheel on a vertical pivot. He faces the nose of the ship,
takes hold of the wheel with both hands, and I think I see the
wheel actually grow
into
him, fuse with him.

The sails above us un-furl, and fill with wind,
snapping and rustling. There’s a cranking and clattering from the
nose that I realize is the chain and grapple that stopped the ship
being reeled back in. Slowly, smoothly, we begin to move
forward.

Above us, the cable network turns the sails, cants
them. I think we’re turning north—I can’t be sure since I can’t see
anything but gray sky. We seem to accelerate, though slowly. The
swaying of the ship gets worse under foot.

The motion starts to make me vaguely nauseated. I see
a few of my companions share my experience. I back up to one of the
masts and hang on. One by one, my fellows all break down and find
their own supports, except for Bly and the Ghaddar, who seem to be
quietly competing with each other in maintaining their balance.

I hear something strike the hull. Sharp, hard. On our
port side. Again. It becomes a hammering, uneven but strong. I see
Jed turn to look, then ignore it—his face looks entranced, as if
he’s elsewhere, plugged into his ship. The banging stops. All I
hear is the wind whistling through the cables and masts overhead,
rippling the sails.

Half an hour passes (during which I’m actually
grateful that I don’t have breakfast in my stomach). As far as I
can tell, the wind is picking up (which isn’t normal in a world of
not normal—the winds
calm
as the morning passes). It’s
blowing across us from starboard to port (I assume the nomenclature
common to other vehicles applies here), so I assume we’re heading
north. The sail yards are all turned about forty-five degrees
counter-clockwise. According to the Zodanga, the angling of the
sails apparently allows that sideways force to be translated into
forward momentum, as long as the ship has a substantial “keel” and
“rudder”—I’m guessing similar principles apply in water. I see Bly
watching the sails work, possibly appreciating the engineering.
(Reminding him of better times?)

Then the sky does something strange: I see it flash
bright, followed by a distant boom that could be cannons or bombs,
but it’s coming from above us. Meteor strike? Or is something wrong
with the Atmosphere Net? Is it the blades’ doing, or has Earthside
done something stupid in response to the threat of the blades’
hack? I think I see massive arcs of electricity in the opaque
ceiling of gasses.

“Lightning,” I hear Elias mutter, staring at the sky
in awe with the rest of us. “Thunder.”

(And again, I’m wishing I’d paid better attention
during my Earth history and environment modules. I was only
interested in what I thought was practical to me as a war-fighter,
and that was Earth technology and tactics, assuming they ever came
back. What value was there in understanding their pre-industrial
tech, their climate? We’d be fighting on our world, not
theirs.)

I hear the banging again on the port side hull.

“What is that?” Abbas calls up to Jed. Jed ignores
him.

The banging continues, uneven, intermittent. But now
I think I hear scraping as well. Erickson moves tentatively toward
the stairs to the top rail.

“He said not to go near the rail,” Elias scolds. Then
he appears to give in to his own curiosity and follows.

The clawing and clattering sounds like it’s getting
higher, louder. Suddenly, the cables that run from the masts and
sails to anchor points over the port side of the ship begin to
jerk, like something heavy is pulling on them. Then another set of
cables gets jerked. The sail yards shift, but correct,
compensate—probably Jed’s doing, but he still seems to be ignoring
the disturbance.

I begin to hear chatter in my head. Bot signals.

“Bugs!” Erickson hears it, too. We both reach for our
swords, only to find them still stuck tight in their scabbards.
Then, when I try to move, my feet are fused to the deck. I can’t
move. Neither can Erickson or Elias, glued in place just before
they reached the stairs. They look as panicked as I probably
do.

“We’re
stuck
!” I tell the others. Jed is still
ignoring us, everything.

The Ghaddar flies past the immobile brothers, and
springs up the stairs to the narrow rail deck (I doubt she touched
more than three of the steps). Murphy and Bly are right behind her.
Abbas, Ishmael, Rashid and Terina are right behind them, at least
after Erickson and Elias wave away their offers of help, still
afraid of what might happen if we were to touch another living
thing. The stairwell and the rail deck get crowded. I remember
Jed’s warning, feel the ship rocking under us, see strong winds
whip the Ghaddar’s cloak as she looks down over the rail.

“Bugs!” she confirms as Bly and Murphy join her. She
unslings her rifle, aims it down over the side. It won’t fire.

“Murphy?” she defers.

“I’m out,” he admits, frustrated. “Ran out yesterday.
Just ball ammo left.” And plain ball nines won’t dent a bot. He
draws his simple sword, probably hoping to jam it in somewhere
vital, gets ready. “Charges? Grenades?” he asks everyone else. They
all shake their heads.

Bly draws his sword, uses one of the lines to climb
up into the rigging, trying to get above the…

There’s a flash. Blinding. I feel the air heat,
charge. Then I get hit with a shockwave, get deafened by a blast.
When I can see again, Bly hits the deck in front of me with a heavy
clatter, his robes charred, his armor smoking. The Ghaddar falls
near him, but looks intact, just stunned. I look up on the rail.
Murphy is also down on his back, stunned. Some of the cables are
smoking, smoldering.

“Lightning!” Elias names it. “His sword… Armor…”

“
Get down from the rail!
” Erickson shouts to
the others.

Rashid and Abbas are dragging Murphy toward the
stairs. Terina looks frozen, staring up at the sky that just
attacked us with electricity. Bly is convulsing on the deck. I
still can’t move. The Ghaddar goes to check him (for whatever good
she can do with him sealed in that metal suit).

One of the damaged cables snaps, sending a sail yard
twisting out of sync with the others. It doesn’t seem to affect the
ship much.

Then the Bugs make it up over the rail. They’re
hanging on to the cables, climbing by alternately wrapping the
lines in their claws, but now they’ve got purchase on the top edge
of the hull.

Abbas draws his revolver—it won’t fire. Neither will
Ishmael or Rashid’s weapons. Then Rashid gets a desperate idea,
charges one of the Bugs, tries to shove one of its legs off the
rail while its other limbs are busy in the cables. He actually
succeeds (and doesn’t get killed). The bot slips. Abbas throws
himself at the other bot, wrestles with it. But they’re still
holding fast to the lines.

Ishmael sees what to do, starts climbing the rigging
(despite what just happened to Bly), gets above the Bugs, draws his
sword and starts hacking. A cable snaps. A bug almost falls. He
quickly starts cutting the other line it’s hanging onto. Abbas sees
what he’s doing, coordinates his pushing. The next cable snaps, and
the Bug falls. I hear what I think is a loud splash. Abbas and
Rashid are cheering in the wind. Ishmael is slinging his way over
to the remaining bot.

Murphy’s managed to join the effort as Ishmael hacks
at another line. Then Terina. Human against bot, they wrestle in
the storm.

The line Ishmael is cutting snaps, but it recoils,
whips up into him, knocking him loose. He loses his sword as he
falls. Stunned and desperate, he grabs whatever he can to stop his
tumble, and winds up hanging from the remaining bot’s back as it
flails at him. I hear Abbas scream, and he starts hacking the Bug
with his blade, trying to keep its attention so it won’t go after
his son. Rashid tries to climb the machine to get Ishmael, but gets
thrown off—he lands on the main deck on his back with a thud that
sounds like it beat the wind out of him. Then Murphy gets smacked
by a flailing arm. Terina drags him out of reach.

Ishmael’s got himself better purchase, has climbed up
on top of the Bug and grabbed a line, then goes right back to
hacking what the bot is holding onto. Abbas yells at him to stop,
but the line snaps. The bot drops out from under him, and he’s
still there. But then more sail yards start swinging sloppy, and he
gets swung on the line he’s hanging onto. He rides it for dear life
as his father tries to grab him. Terina rushes to help, but then he
gets thrown into another set of taut cables and knocked loose. I
see him tumble, trying to grab anything, failing.

Abbas doesn’t hesitate. He dives after his son as
he’s falling, one of the cut lines wrapped around his wrist. They
both disappear over the side as Terina watches helplessly. I see
the cable Abbas was connected to jerk, but then go slack. I hear
them hit the water.

“
Jed!
” I’m screaming at our oblivious or
uncaring driver. Terina is bent over the rail, stretching out her
arm like she could reach them.

“
JED!!
”

He finally disengages with his wheel. But what he
does next… He walks over to the side rail, gathers up some of the
severed lines, then climbs into the rigging to reach their other
ends, bringing them together. The ends fuse together as soon as
they’re reconnected. He’s repairing his fucking ship.

I still can’t move.

The Ghaddar’s made it back up to where Abbas and
Ishmael disappeared. I see her searching over the side, searching
the water. It doesn’t look like she sees anything.

She gets in Jed’s way as he goes about his repairs,
puts a hand on his chest to stop him. Withdraws it, like whatever
she felt gave her pause.

“Where are they?!” she manages to demand as if she’s
having trouble speaking.

“Well behind us by now.” He says it like it’s nothing
important. He doesn’t even bother to look.

“Turn the ship!” Rashid wails, trying to get up.
“Turn us around!!”

“It would take far too long to be a practical
rescue.”

“Then send one of your small craft!” The Ghaddar
insists.

Jed gestures aft. At the square stern-end of the
ship, a pair of the crane-arms is lowering one of the little
transfer craft over the side in our wake.

“Will it reach them?” Murphy needs to know. Jed
merely shrugs, then he casually looks over the port side as a
bloodied Murphy joins Terina at the rail.

“They’ll be fine,” Jed reassures badly. “Look. We’re
almost there.”

Erickson Carter:

“Come and see.”

I can move again.

The thick clouds have dissipated over our heads,
scattering into truly beautiful Earth-like patterns against a deep
blue sky. The effect is so much more than our scenery projections
and VR immersions could hope to depict—just like being outside for
the first time, so… Big. Open. Breathtaking. Dizzying.

Jed’s gesturing us to come up to the port rail, to
the narrow catwalk we boarded on, where we just lost two of our
own, and he’s just showing us the scenery like nothing happened.
I’m not sure if he’s really childlike, if he’s just acting like it,
or maybe he’s not alive at all—he described his ship and being a
living biological nanotech construct, something from the immortals’
alt-world, and we saw him merge physically with it. He may be some
kind of machine, manufactured. (Perhaps a manifestation of an AI
like our swords? He does seem to be able to control them—and
through them, us—or maybe they’re just cooperating with him to
further their unknown agenda.)