The Line of Polity (53 page)

"Yes, a line Patrol ship, name of the
Occam Razor
," Thorn replied.

The euphemistic description might be tactical withdrawal, but it was called defeat in any other language, and no less than Lellan had expected. Hit and withdraw, hit and withdraw — all the way back to the mountains, where she knew she could extend the conflict almost indefinitely. To stand, out here against a force three times their number would be plain suicide. Perhaps it would have been a different matter with a few more of those war drones, or if the two she did possess had not depleted their power supplies to the point where they could just about keep up with her army's retreat, and manage an occasional counter-attack whenever Dorth's forces pushed to break the line. In the end, she desperately needed Polity intervention, because without it they would do nothing but lose.

I've destroyed us, I've completely destroyed us
...

"Tell me again, what did he say?" asked her brother.

"He said that the
Occam Razor
is now in the hands of Separatists who are unlikely to pass on our shout for help." She remembered that cold voice speaking in her ear, then the confirmation from Fethan and the man Thorn.

"No, what exactly did he call it?" Stanton asked.

"He called it a subverted AI dreadnought, and our signal to the Polity has been updated to include that news."

"That should bring them running," said her brother.

Lellan gritted her teeth and, feigning tiredness, rubbed at her eyes to smear away the tears that were gathering there. Jarvellis had yet to contact Stanton and give him the wonderful news that the moment they had started sending the updated signal, something had begun blocking it.

"I need to wear it to prevent the gravity here killing me," explained Apis.

"Why? How would it kill you?" Eldene asked him, glad of those long talks with Fethan which had given her some understanding of 'gravity' and how it was absent in space.

Mika, seated on a rolled-up sleeping bag opposite them, intervened, "His people ... they adapted to living in space. Amongst other things, his bones would never have supported him in this gravity since, as he was then, he would have collapsed and died almost immediately."

Apis, who had been showing little inclination to sit down and continued to prowl around inside the ATV, snapped his attention towards Mika. "You say 'would' and 'was'? How different am I now?"

Mika inspected the laptop, via which she monitored the Outlinker's body through his exoskeleton. "You are improving, though I would not yet advise the removal of your suit. It is possible that you would survive it, and that the nanomycelium reconfiguring your body would be thereby stimulated to work harder, but such a move is still not recommended."

Leaning back in the driver's chair, Eldene studied the boy further. She had no idea what Mika was talking about, but it added to the mystery. This boy had previously lived on a giant space station and now had to wear the strange bulky suit to support his weight in Masada's gravity. Eldene could not conceive of anyone more unlike herself.

"Tell me about
Miranda
," she asked him suddenly.

Apis froze in mid-stride, and Eldene noted how Mika was now studying him analytically. Obviously there was a great deal more to learn here, more than she had overheard in previous conversations before the others had left the ATV — Fethan to check where the hooder had gone, and the other three to find out about this 'dracoman'.

Apis turned to her and replied doggedly, "What's to tell?
Miranda
was an Outlink station that was the home for millions of people, and now it is just so much floating wreckage."

Before he could turn away Eldene persisted, "But how was it destroyed?"

"A nanomycelium," said Apis, perhaps hoping her lack of knowledge might silence her.

"You have fungi here." Mika made it a statement, in her accustomed fashion. Then, with a flash of self-annoyance, "
Do
you have fungi here?"

"Orepores," Eldene replied, not quite sure of what relevance that was.

"Describe them," said Mika.

"Round things." Eldene's hands shaped something spherical in the air. "Up in the north, they feed them to the pigs."

"What you are seeing in these orepores is the fruit of a plant — the plant itself is a spread of thin fibres, some of which are too small to be seen. These fibres are called mycelia — that's the plural of mycelium."

"A fungus destroyed a place with millions of people in it?" Eldene asked, disbelievingly. Then she pointed at Apis. "And he's got one inside him?"

"It's a little more complicated than that," replied Mika, glancing towards the door of the ATV as the warning light came on beside it, then hinging her mask back into place.

Eldene raised her mask too, and noted how Apis did not even have to — apparently devices in his clothing detected any drop in the oxygen content of the air and raised his visor when necessary.

"That was quick," said Mika, standing up and turning towards the door. Eldene had been aware that the woman was very annoyed earlier, when ordered by Cormac to stay with the ATV — so they did not later have a struggle again to drag her away from the remnants of Dragon. She wondered if they had found this dracoman they had been talking about. What she did not expect was for the door to slam back, and to hear a thud like a cleaver chopping into a cabbage.

For a moment she could not fathom what was going on. Mika suddenly bent over, something smacking into the wall above and behind her. Only when blood welled through the torn fabric of Mika's suit did it become evident that someone standing outside had put a shot through her. With a bubbling groan Mika collapsed to her knees. She turned to say something, but only blood came out of her mouth.

The Theocracy soldier who now stepped through the door seized Mika by the shoulder and hurled her outside behind him, even as he turned and fired at the Outlinker. Apis grunted as the single shot slammed him back against the wall. It was only as he began sliding down it, his eyes turning up in his head to show only the white, that Eldene thought to reach for her weapon. In a second the soldier had knocked it away, shoving the snout of his weapon up under her chin. Eldene froze, recognizing the gun — it was the very same type as the one Fethan had given her when they first left the crop lands and she knew exactly what it was capable of.

"What about this one?" asked a voice from outside.

"Leave her. She'll be dead in a minute, if she's not already," said Eldene's captor.

A second soldier, then a third, entered the ATV, and after a few minutes a fourth one closed the door behind him. The one threatening Eldene drew away his weapon as he raised his visor. It was strange, thought Eldene bizarrely, how little you could tell from someone's appearance; for she had frequently encountered plump, cheerful-looking proctors who were always ready with quips and funny anecdotes whilst they were lashing the skin off a worker's back. This man, though, with his hawkish face and twisted mouth, looked just plain evil and obviously relished the fact.

He gestured towards Apis with his weapon. "Check him out. He may still be alive."

"Should have gone for a head-shot, Speelan," said one of the newcomers.

"No, I think the good Deacon will be wanting words with these people."

"What about the other four?"

"We forget about them. I don't want to hang around here any longer." He glanced through the front screen. "Maybe that hooder will deal with them."

Eldene kept silent. To speak out, she knew from long experience, only brought unwanted attention. Transferring his gaze back inside, Speelan stared at her as if he had momentarily forgotten her presence. Almost negligently, he drew back his pistol and cracked its barrel down against her temple.

Sometimes it did not help to have the kind of mind in which blocks of logic keyed together so precisely, and life-and-death facts revealed themselves like nasty gumboils. Dragon was gone: buried under a mud slide that had raised the soil level in the pit of the crater by at least ten metres. But what the hell did that matter one way or the other, with what was coming?

"I can't and I won't believe Scar is somewhere underneath that," said Cormac, as ever revealing nothing of what he felt.

Gant disagreed. "He may be there still, but if he is you can guarantee he's not dead."

"Unlike some I could mention," said Thorn.

"I'm not dead," Gant pointed out. "How can I be? I'm a machine."

"This isn't helping," said Cormac before Thorn could formulate a reply. "Gant, why so certain he's not dead?"

Gant shrugged, turning so that the snout of his cradled APW pointed down into the slowly refilling crater. "As you know, he doesn't need to breathe oxygen. As I understand it, he is just more efficient when he is surrounded by a gaseous oxidant he can breathe in to burn his body's fuel. He can use other types of atmosphere, as we've already found out, and I know that without any atmosphere to breathe he can run on his body's fuel for days before simply going into stasis."

"And how do you know all this?" Cormac pretended interest in the answer.

"Mika. Not from her directly, but she's built up quite a database on dracomen." He nodded towards the crater. "He could be in stasis under there — or digging his way out even now."

"But do we wait to find out?" Thorn asked.

Cormac studied the two men while he considered the present situation. Maybe they should stay and wait to see if Scar would indeed dig his way out, because it seemed to Cormac that any other efforts were futile. The Theocracy would destroy the rebel army, either on the surface in straight combat, or underground — along with the rest of the population there — by kinetic missile. And it was all such a pointless drama: the squabblings of geese in a pen outside an abattoir. Cormac felt hopeless: he'd fallen so far he was not sure he could get back up again.

"Do we wait?" asked Thorn.

"To achieve what?" asked Cormac.

Perhaps this time the bitterness came through in his voice for both Thorn and Gant looked at once confused, then not a little apprehensive.

"We should return and help Lellan Stanton," said Thorn. "She's an effective commander, and committed to the Underground cause. She deserves whatever we can give her, little as that may be."

Only half-hearing what the man had said, Cormac continued to stare down into the crater. Then something clicked. "Lellan Stanton," he said, turning back to the pair of them.

"Yes?" inquired Thorn.

"You arrived here in John Stanton's ship
Lyric II
. But how did you get through undetected?"

"The ship had chameleonware. Pretty sophist—"

"And this ship is now up in the mountains somewhere?"

"Yes ..."

Cormac turned away from the crater and set then a rapid pace back towards the ATV. Hurrying along behind, Thorn asked, "You're thinking of hitting that Ragnorak device with it, aren't you?"

Cormac let out a brief bitter laugh, abruptly halting and turning to face the other two. "Maybe I haven't painted a clear enough picture with what I already told you, or with what I passed on to Lellan. Perhaps that's because I left out one pertinent fact." He glanced at Gant. "Your partner understands, I think, but I'm not sure he's allowing himself to understand completely."

"Skellor?" said Gant, and Cormac thought the pale grimness overtaking the Golem's expression was a superb emulation of the real thing.

"Precisely, Skellor. Skellor subverted an AI dreadnought using Jain technology, and is direct-linked to a crystal matrix AI, and surviving. I told you this, and I told Lellan this, though I'm not sure just how much of it she understood."

"Enough to know he's dangerous," said Thorn.

"Dangerous," Cormac echoed leadenly.

"Tracking him down and stopping him will become an ECS priority — something like him cannot be allowed to exist," Thorn added.

"Yes," said Cormac. "And if Earth Central knew about him, it would already have ECS tracking him down and stopping him, as you put it. You see, the fact I've missed out is that only we few on this world actually know about Skellor. We few, and whoever else we may have spoken to here."

A look of horror slowly crept into Thorn's expression as he realized what Cormac was telling him. "He's coming here ... he won't risk letting the news get out..."

"He killed the
entire
crew of the
Occam Razor
," reminded Gant.

Turning to continue on his way, Cormac added, "And he's coming here in control of that ship, one capable of incinerating everything on the surface of this world, so, frankly, fuck the stupid little rebellion here and its suppression. If Lellan's transmission doesn't get through, I have to get off this world and warn the Polity. And with me off and away from here, and Skellor knowing about it, maybe he won't be so inclined to hang around killing every human being in this entire system."

For a second or two Cormac stared at the clearing, and the two tracks disappearing into the flute grasses, and wondered which particular deity was crapping on him from a great height.

"Mika!" shouted Thorn, running forwards to stoop by the bloodied form sprawled on the ground. Signalling Gant to move over to one side, Cormac pulled his thin-gun and followed Thorn out into the clearing. Glancing at Mika, he knew she had been wasted: the position of the bloodstains informed him of the entrance and exit wounds, straight through her chest on the right-hand side. Poising his gun to one side of his face, he looked down at the tracks left by the ATV. Who was responsible? That girl? Fethan? Whoever it was, he would kill them.

"Look, stop fussing. I'm all right."

Cormac registered the voice, but recognizing it just did not coincide with any kind of reality for him. He watched, dumbfounded, as Thorn helped Mika to her feet. He then stepped forward and caught her under the elbow as she appeared about to collapse.

"I'm all right. I'm all right," she insisted.

"You've been hit," protested Thorn.

Cormac tried to reassess what he was seeing: the spread of blood around one hole under Mika's right breast and a greater leakage of blood around a larger hole ripped out of the back of her jacket, the insulating layers splayed out like a thistle head: entrance
and
exit wounds. Thorn clutched Mika as she slumped drunkenly against him. Cormac used the barrel of his gun and one finger to gently part the ripped fabric on her back. There was plenty of blood there, but underneath it a nub of purplish-pink flesh like a deep-rooted tumour.