Mal stepped aboard while Reston slipped into the newly vacated driving seat.
“Hey,” the driver said hotly, springing to his feet. “You can’t do that. That’s my train.”
He tried to climb back in. Mal decked him with a single punch, knocking him cold.
At the same time, Tlanextic’s voice rang out across the plaza. “Halt! You fucking stop right there!”
Reston was still studying the control console.
“Reston…” Mal said.
“Give me a moment.”
“We don’t have a moment. Tlanextic’s coming.”
“I know. I’m just trying to figure out which lever’s the brake and which is the throttle.”
“Oh for — !” Mal leaned over and thrust forwards the lever that was marked in increments from 1 to 8. The train gave a jerk and began to move.
“How did you know that was the right one?”
“It couldn’t be more obvious. And I was paying attention on the way over here. I watched what the driver did.”
Reston made a face. “Ah. At that point I wasn’t really bothered about much.” He pushed the throttle lever further forwards as the train drew away from the platform. There was a clear, straight stretch of track ahead and the train eagerly gathered speed.
Tlanextic charged to the very tip of the platform and launched yet another plasma bolt at them. It fell well short of its target, and his subsequent loud grunt of exasperation told them that the shot had finally drained the battery pack. The l-gun was now dead. Enraged, he hurled it impotently after them. It bounced and clattered along the track and fell off, fetching up at the foot of the support pylon below.
Mal allowed herself a smile. They had escaped the bastard. He stood no chance of catching up with them now.
She said as much to Reston.
He glanced over his shoulder, past her. “Don’t speak too soon,” he said.
A second train was arriving at the plaza, transporting a quartet of Serpent Warriors. Tlanextic commandeered it, flagging the driver down and telling him not to stop. Taking up position beside the driver, he instructed him to pour on speed. “Those two in front are criminals — enemies of the state. The Great Speaker wants them dead. Get us as near to them as you can.”
The driver gunned the engine. Meanwhile, Tlanextic ordered all four Serpent Warriors to draw and prime their l-guns. Not antipersonnel; full charge, kinetic component. They were to blow that train to hell.
“Well, this just got a whole lot fucking better,” Mal muttered.
Reston pushed the throttle all the way to 8. The train thrummed hard, accelerating.
“There’s six of them and only two of us,” Mal said, eyeing their pursuers. “Our train’s lighter so we can go faster, right?”
“Negative mass is negative mass,” Reston replied. “The greater the weight, the more charge you need to counteract it, but once that’s achieved, the amount of energy required to generate impetus is much the same. We may have a slight edge over them in terms of power drain, but you can measure the difference in micro-wattage.”
“But they can’t actually gain ground on us.”
“Not as long as we keep going flat out. The question is, are we out of firing range?”
A bolt zapped the track a few metres to the rear of the train.
“And there’s the answer,” Reston said. “Only just.”
“Only just is good enough.”
“Yes. Problem is, at some point we’ll come to a corner and have to slow down. We’ll decelerate before they do, and there’s our lead gone. They’ll have a window of opportunity.”
“Then we don’t slow down.”
“I don’t know much about trains but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be wise.”
“Let’s put it to the test, shall we?” said Mal, pointing ahead.
Roughly two hundred metres from where they were, the track began describing a long, gentle curve to the right, winding between the bases of two buildings. Reston clamped his lips grimly together, clearly having to resist the urge to pull the throttle lever back from 8. The train was travelling at a fair lick, perhaps fifty miles per hour, levitating effortlessly along the broad silvery rail. As it hit the start of the turn it began to shimmy, and as the curve deepened the motion became a seasickly sway. The train’s apron scraped against the rail’s outer edge. There were stuttering, burping squeals of metal on metal. Sparks flew. The centrifugal force was tremendous and Mal bent hard to the side to counteract it. Looking back, she saw the Serpent train falling behind. The driver had automatically curbed speed when approaching the bend. Tlanextic berated him, cuffing him round the head and telling him not to be such a fucking wimp.
Their own train was shaking wildly from side to side now and seemed keen to part company with the track. Then the curve straightened out and the noise and disturbance gradually subsided.
“Yeah!” Mal shouted to their pursuers. “How’s about that, arseholes? You’re never going to get us. Might as well fuck off back home and polish your helmets.”
“What did I tell you about speaking too soon?”
Mal looked back round and saw to her dismay that there was another bend coming up. This one was a full ninety-degree turn, snaking to the left.
“I’ll have to rein it in,” Reston said. “Otherwise we’ll fly clean off.” He drew the throttle down a notch to 7, then for good measure to 6. “We’ll still be going too fast, though. And…”
“And what?”
“Simple geometry. As we hit the apex of the turn, the angle will bring us closer to them.”
“Fuck my luck.”
“Succinctly put. Hang on. This is going to get bumpy.”
It did indeed get bumpy, so much so that Mal had to cling onto the headrest of the driving seat in order to keep her balance. The screeching was deafening. Several times it seemed as though the train was going to tear free of the track. She could feel it twisting against itself, inner torque juddering mightily through it.
And then, halfway through the turn, as Reston had predicted, the Serpents opened fire. Their train was just hitting the bend. They had a chance and they didn’t squander it.
Bolts arced across from their train to the one Mal and Reston were in. The Serpents had time to loose off only one shot apiece, four shots in all.
All four came close, strafing, blitzing, simultaneously, blindingly.
One made contact.
Fortunately, the bolt struck the end of the train, nowhere near the drive mechanism — the power cells and neg-mass exciter — which was located in the middle, beneath the passengers’ feet. Damage was done, but not instantaneously catastrophic damage. The train’s tail end exploded outwards, shards of metal caroming and ricocheting back along the track. Mal was thrown to the floor. She got up to find the train didn’t have a back any more, just a jagged gap that looked as though a shark had chewed a whole section of bodywork off. The rearmost bank of seats was bent up at a crazy angle. Smoke trailed behind them.
But they were still going. The train was making terrible noises, a ragged-edged keen of protest, but it was still moving forwards and didn’t appear to have lost much in the way of momentum. Coming out of the curve, Reston nudged the throttle back up to 7, and the train jerkily responded. He tried 8, and the noises worsened but there was a further hike in speed nonetheless.
They entered another straight section.
“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Mal said, shouting to make herself heard above the train’s caterwauling.
“Does it matter, as long as it’s away from Tlanextic?”
“I mean, do you have a plan? Or are we just going to tour round Tenochtitlan for the rest of the day until we get bored?”
“South,” said Reston. “We head south. The harbour end of the island. Steal a boat there and make for shore.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m open to other suggestions, inspector.”
She had none.
They hurtled on, the ruined, screeching train drawing curious looks from everyone it passed by. A junction loomed, and a light on the control console flashed and a buzzer beeped.