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Authors: Neal Asher

Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Space Opera, #Adventure

The Line of Polity (63 page)

BOOK: The Line of Polity
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"You will let me live," stated Mika, echoing both Scar and Dragon.

"Still can't
ask
even the important ones?" he asked her. "I didn't promise anything, and what I promise is irrelevant — I wouldn't be the one to pull the trigger."

Mika was about to make some bitter comeback when Thorn's sudden frantic activity distracted her. They both turned as he slammed a cartridge of grenades into the launcher and swung the device round, then up.

Just then two shadows slid over above them.

The
Occam Razor
caught the last of the setting sun, and hung half-gilded in the sky long into the evening. Observing the massive thing through her binoculars, Lellan could not help but shudder. With the riotous fighting below it, this object seemed to represent some demon presiding over one of the numerous circles of Hell described in Theocracy dogma. She lowered her binoculars to observe men looking little better than walking corpses fighting those hellish lizard creatures. The dead on both sides strewed the churned ground and flattened vegetation, and now that most rail-guns were empty, the combat was hand-to-hand, or rather hand against claw and teeth.

"If you recalled our army, who would you instruct them to fight?" asked Carl, as he turned the aerofan back towards the compound embankment.

Lellan looked round at the Theocracy soldier, Sastol, who was the only other occupant of the aerofan. "Who is the enemy now?" she asked him.

"I do not know any more," he replied. "Perhaps
they
are." Unable to point, his wrists being secured to the rail of the aerofan, he nodded towards two heroynes striding through the flute grasses some distance away to their right. As Lellan and Carl turned to observe these creatures, one of them pecked downwards and came up with something that was recognizably a struggling soldier. Tilting its head back, it tossed the man around until it had him in the right position, then swallowed him head first.

"Sweet Lord," said Sastol.

The heroyne and its companion strode on in search of further prey, whilst the struggling lump slid slowly down its long neck to its stomach. Lellan considered going after it, but what would they achieve by blowing the creature open? The Theocracy soldiers now seemed little better than automatons, and apparently did not cease fighting even when captured. From what Sastol had told her of his own experience, she surmised that the soldiers did not have much individual mind left to them, and were merely following a program, albeit a complex one. As Carl finally brought the aerofan down onto the embankment, where they found Beckle and Uris attempting to get another aerofan up and running, Lellan noticed a light flashing on the essential part of the coms helmet she had hanging on her belt. Unhooking it, she placed the speaker button in her ear and spoke into its mouthpiece.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked.

"We have located agent Ian Cormac and his companions. What are your instructions?"

"Just bring them safely to the compound, Rom," she replied, wondering if the drone's voices had become distinct from each other the moment she had named them, or if they had always been that way. In appearance they had originally been indistinguishable, but even that was no longer so — the damage each had received giving them visible individuality as well. Bringing her binoculars back up to her eyes, Lellan began searching the horizon. Shortly she located the two cylindrical shapes heading directly towards the compound, and below them, intermittently visible between still-upright stands of vegetation, came a car with an interesting collection of passengers.

Fethan and Thorn, the one with a bushy orange beard and the other with a cropped black one, were easily identifiable from a distance. Lellan had no idea who the woman was, and presumed the other, silver-haired man to be the agent Cormac. The shaven-headed trooper who had, leaping aboard at speed, just joined them in the car, she presumed to be something more than human. Lowering her binoculars she turned to lean on the rail of the aerofan and peered down the slope of the embankment. "Any luck with that thing?" she asked Beckle and Uris casually. The two men crouching by the tilted aerofan, at the bottom of the bank, had its control column in pieces between them.

Uris looked up. "Needs a new column, but we can still run it."

"Then get it in the air and head back to the compound," ordered Lellan. "See if you can find any spares there. Also get everyone prepared to move out. We don't know what these creatures are likely to do when they've finished out here."

The two men stood and with one heave dropped the aerofan back into its upright position. In disgust Beckle kicked the pieces of its control column to one side.

"You will go with them," said Lellan, stabbing a finger at Sastol. He might have surrendered himself, and circumstances might have changed dramatically, but he was still Theocracy and she trusted him not at all. She watched as Carl unclipped the man's wrist-ties from the rail and stepped back with weapon drawn while the captive climbed to the ground.

Climbing onto the righted aerofan, Beckle sat with his legs either side of the control column base, and his arms inside the casing. Uris waited cautiously until Sastol was aboard, then climbed on behind him, his pulse-rifle covering the prisoner's back. The fans started with a slightly discordant drone, sending a spray of mud in every direction, as the machine rose and slid off over the chequerboard of ponds towards the compound. There, Lellan knew, Sastol would be wise to stick close to her two men, for the newly liberated pond workers had a penchant for removing the breathing apparatus of any Theocracy soldiers caught, then tossing them into one of the squerm ponds to see if they could survive even long enough to suffocate.

"We may find out what those creatures are all about," said Carl.

Lellan turned back to observe the approaching car, and watched in perplexity as one of the lizard creatures ran along behind it then jumped aboard without either attacking or being attacked. It seemed there were some things she still needed to know.

As the vehicle drew closer Lellan saw that more of the creatures were now emerging from the surrounding vegetation and running alongside the vehicle. Despite no signs of aggression towards the car's occupants, or of Rom and Ram considering the creatures a threat, Lellan turned to Carl. "Take us up and out a few metres."

Carl sharply did as requested, obviously glad to get out of reach.

"What's happening, Fethan?" Lellan called out when the whole strange procession had finally reached the embankment.

"Always the unexpected," the old cyborg shouted up.

As if in confirmation of that, for a second the evening grew brighter than day, then the whole plain erupted with fire and gouting explosions. With after images chasing across her retinas, Lellan saw Cormac conversing with the lizard creature in the car. The creature then turned to others of its kind gathered around the vehicle, and after a moment they melted away into the surrounding vegetation.

Then all was chaos as they fled the hellfire the
Occam Razor
laid down upon the land.

"Is this it?" asked the woman he guessed to be Lellan, removing her mask as they piled into the workers' barracks. "Is this the start of it?"

Tiredly removing his own mask, Cormac considered telling her that the start of it had been when Skellor arrived in the system, but what gain would there be in that information?

"I'd say Skellor has just realized what's been attacking the Theocracy army out there," he said.

"And what's that?" Lellan studied Scar with suspicion.

"Dracomen," said Cormac, also glancing at the dracoman. "Dragon's children, if you like." At this he saw her loosen her grip on the pulse-rifle she pretended to hold so casually. Because Dragon had destroyed the laser arrays, Cormac felt she must have some trust in that creature's intentions. He did not have time to disillusion her.

"This Skellor is attacking them? Why them specifically ... and why now?"

Cormac thought he knew the answer to that, though he did not like it. "Because Dragon was one of those he came here to silence, and I think because I just got clear of the area, and because he likes destroying things."

"He doesn't want to kill you too, then?" Carl interjected, squatting next to an electric heater.

Cormac glanced at him. "In the same way that the Theocracy would rather capture your leader alive than kill her." He gestured at Lellan, who winced when she realized what he meant. Cormac turned to Scar. "What's happening out there now?"

The dracoman held up a claw and slowly closed it in a squeezing motion. "Many die, but we disperse and we hide."

Cormac nodded to himself — just at the last he'd spotted some burrowing into the ground. Skellor might be blitzing the area with laser strikes, but he would need to incinerate every square metre, to some depth, in order to kill every dracoman. He tried not to become too attracted to the idea of Skellor committing such genocide, and thereby obviating a future headache for the Polity. So far the dracomen had been most helpful, and had not committed any significant crime.

"They all listen to you," he said to Scar. "You are somehow linked to them." To one side, he was aware of Mika becoming more alert. "Is that why Dragon named you Cadmus?"

"They are my people," said Scar, with almost a touch of pride in his voice.

Cormac nodded. "Then you must stay here with them." He turned to Mika. "You'll continue watching them, and report?"

Mika nodded eagerly and turned to Gant. Silently he unhooked from his shoulder the pack which now contained the bulk of her instruments, and handed it across to Scar. Without any acknowledgement, the dracoman accepted the pack, its attention still firmly fixed on Cormac.

"You
will
let us live?" Scar repeated.

Cormac replied, "I'll try to save those of you that manage to survive, for now. Later, we can only hope — as the decision will rest in Polity hands ... but I'll do all I can."

As he headed for the airtight door, Scar turned towards Mika. "She not survive with us," he said dismissively.

Mika smiled, then began unstrapping her oxygen pack, collar mask and piping. She handed these items to the soldier Uris, before following the dracoman towards the door.

"Oh, I'll survive," she said.

"What the hell?" said Lellan, stepping forward to prevent what she could only perceive as suicide.

Cormac caught her arm. "She doesn't need the oxygen we need out there." He gestured to the pack Uris held. "That thing's been empty since this morning."

"But how the hell does she..." Lellan fell silent as both the dracoman and Mika exited into the night.

"We, however" — he gestured to himself and Thorn — "do need oxygen. We'll need enough to get us to your brother's ship. We'll also need transport to get us there quickly."

"What — so you can escape, Polity agent?" spoke up a man who was obviously a prisoner — his wrists were bound, and he wore Theocracy uniform. There was also a dressing behind his ear where his aug should have been.

"No," said Cormac, aware that everyone nearby was much interested in his answer. "But so I can deal with our friend up there."

The prisoner snorted.

Lellan asked, "And how do you propose to do that?"

"Too many ears and eyes here," said Cormac, taking in the soldiers, ex-pond workers, and prisoners all jammed into this one airtight building. "You'll just have to trust me on that."

"I should trust you," Lellan repeated leadenly.

Cormac replied, "I am Polity, and in the end that has always been
your
only choice. Tell me, what other options have you ever had, and what options do you have now?"

Lellan fell silent for a moment, then said, "There's an oxygen refill tank in the building next door, and we have two working aerofans — enough to carry six people. We also have those two war drones that shepherded you in. When do you want to move?"

Cormac thought about that: once upon a time he'd enjoyed an utterly human pastime called 'sleep', but to indulge in that now was madness as Skellor could decide at any moment that he had been playing mortal games for long enough, and that it was time to totally flash burn the planet. Without thinking about it, he took out the reel of stimulant patches Mika had given him, tore one off and, reaching inside his shirt, stuck it to his torso.

"Right now," he said.

There was almost a feeling of disappointment in having located Ian Cormac so easily, but then locating was one thing and apprehending another — as Skellor had discovered the last time he'd nearly had the man in his grasp. With a thought he shut down the lasers that had been searing the plain and focused all his instruments upon the small compound itself. The destruction had raised clouds of smoke and steam that did nothing to improve his view, and anyway the dracomen had successfully dispersed, disappearing like fog in a hurricane. But they would go with the rest of the planet, once he had Cormac up here in his bridge pod to watch the show.

Alerted by the movement of people coming out of the barracks buildings, Skellor closed in the focus of a scope so he could see each individual clearly. It annoyed him that he did not have any weapon accurate enough to target any individual from up here. Most of the
Occam's
armament was apocalyptic — the smallest smart missiles aboard, with the appropriate range, delivered enough of a punch to take out a tank. With the right weapon he could have stripped Cormac of all his companions, before taking him; as it was, Skellor's remaining creatures on the surface would need to prove adequate to the task.

About to send his calloraptors down from the mountains, Skellor observed Cormac and some others taking off on a couple of aerofans, warded on either side by the two war drones, and heading in that same direction. All so easy, Skellor felt, and in a flush of boredom felt the urge to just wipe it all away — burn it all and move on. But then, deep in those alien structures of himself, he heard an echo of Aphran's laughter, and his vision settled clearly for a moment on Cormac turning to look up towards him. And Skellor decided to stay his hand.

BOOK: The Line of Polity
10.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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