Verge points to Antares hissing leg. “You have a CryoZaiyon and my company didn’t get so much as one man?”
“In this gunship are the remains of two crews and the Raston taskforce. Believe me when I say that there are no reinforcements,” he says slowly to let it sink in. “Now, where is the rest of your platoon? Where’s Major Sikes?”
“Where the fuck do you think?”
“Corporal!” Sabre says chidingly.
Rennin isn’t sure why he’s surprised to see that Corporal Verge is female but he’s surprised all the same. Though he likes her attitude. Verge salutes Sabre exhaustedly. “Corporal Celina Verge locked and loaded, lieutenant,” she says eyeing Antares.
Sabre inclines his head but doesn’t salute. “I won’t mince words, corporal, this is a desertion; not a retreat.”
That gets her attention. “Sir?”
“In this gunship we have an AWOL HolinMech, a dead CryoZaiyon, and combat-grade android that command wants killed and Doctor Caufmann who Commander Croft wants in custody.”
“I heard that thing held the line at the stadium before we lost contact with everyone,” Verge says, glancing at Del.
“That thing saved our lives too so you have a choice to make. Either you get dropped off at one of our positions, or you’re coming with us. We think Croft has lost it. Communication outside the city is jammed completely and he’s calling the shots on his own.”
Verge’s pale eyes don’t blink. “I’ll get dropped off with my gunner if it’s all the same to you. You pulled me out of that mess so I won’t say anything to incriminate you but I’m not abandoning my troops.”
“We’re not keeping this in here. He might reanimate,” interjects Mia, before pushing the body out a small hatch at the rear with an angry grunt.
Verge is about to shout at Mia but is interrupted by Rennin calling back from the pilot’s seat. “You’re not getting dropped anywhere. I have a stopover to make in Currajong District.”
In Whitechapel, Commander Croft and First Officer Hannon are tracking Dead Star’s transponder. As Rennin banks towards Currajong, Croft’s face turns venomous. “Deserting…” he spits.
“He has clearly veered off course,” she concedes.
“Have our tech experts discovered what this program will do to Del once uploaded?”
“It’ll adjust his targeting parameters to attack Thermosteel constructs and not to recognise command of any kind. Also it will force it to attack any viable threat on sight.”
“Androids…” Croft smiles. “This is good news.”
“What’s our course of action, sir?”
“Dead Star has disobeyed a direct order to come straight here after pulling Verge out. Signal Desolator 1 to fire on them. Immediately.”
“Desolator 1 is out of position, it will have to be realigned and fire on an angle.”
“And?”
“The particle beam of a Desolator satellite will cut a trench across its axis. The shockwave leaving the beam at forty-five degrees will cause a lot of collateral damage. It might even affect the Skyhook station. Corporal Verge is on that gunship.”
“There’s more at stake here than a few soldiers and a gunship! I want them taken out. Now!” he bellows.
Hannon takes a breath. “And the program?”
“Imbed a signal when Desolator 1 targets them. When the array focuses, the signal will be received by Del’s sensors, automatically overwriting his existing operating parameters.”
“Why bother?”
“If that thing is half the fighting machine I’ve heard it is, it’ll probably live. If it survives, it’ll be ours.”
14.
AWOL
Gunship Dead Star enters Currajong District as a fierce storm is setting in. Currajong is a residential suburb in Middle-city that isn’t riddled with apartment complexes in massive neo-gothic structures as they in Centre-city. It’s a throwback to times gone by, when houses were built on blocks of land instead of mega-buildings with miniature caskets with a television for homes as they were in the 22nd century. As such it’s easier to see contaminant activity, or the lack thereof as the case is now.
Rennin makes a beeline for Wanker’s address, oblivious to the Desolator satellite’s reorientation as it begins moving into position behind them. The hulking station is slow to target the one small shuttle. Desolator satellites are designed to fire directly downwards as precision blockbusters, not to target moving objects.
The former watchman brings Dead Star down on the front lawn of the house. It has been rather aggressively overgrown by vines in an apt metaphor for how this city is being overrun. Then again, to most the city may have fallen long before anyone knew even knew the vines were present.
Del is first out of the craft and absently blasts a contaminant off of the roof of Wanker’s house. The shot divides the target into pieces. Rennin is out of the pilot’s chair and out of the craft.
“Wayne!” he calls, then turns to Del. “Try to keep it down.”
Acknowledged, appears in Rennin’s artificial eye in minute text he can barely read.
Rennin nods and is about to proceed up to the doorstep when he stops and narrows his eyes at Del, “Was that sarcasm?”
Del doesn’t respond.
“It was,” says Rennin inwardly swearing at himself for not realising he can open text channels locally by mere thought and timing his blinking.
What else can this thing do?
Del ignores him and pans the gun around, alert and clearly on guard.
Jawa calls out of the craft. “Come on, man, hurry!”
Rennin runs to the front door, bashing on it with both fists. “Wayne! It’s Rennin. Open up.”
No answer.
Rennin thumps again. “Goddamn it, Wanker, open this fucking door! I will kick it in and drag you onto this gunship.”
Another moment of silence, before the door opens just a crack and a trembling voice can be heard. “Rennin? What—”
The door is promptly kicked open before he can finish his query. Rennin steps in. “Ready?”
Wayne Carr stumbles back against the opposite wall. “Ready? What for?”
“I told you, we’re leaving.”
Moments later Wayne is ushering two children and his wife out of the house towards the gunship. He face is haggard and he probably hasn’t slept since the fighting started. Thinking of the fighting, Rennin turns and glances towards Centre-city where detonations can be seen reflecting against the clouds in the sky.
Rennin follows Wayne feeling an increasingly unsettling sensation of being watched. “Hey, I thought you had four kids…” Rennin starts as his eyes scan up the fascia of Wayne’s house. At the top there’s an attic window where the faces of two children are staring right at Rennin with white eyes. Rennin huffs a curse as a full body shudder stutters his step.
Rennin turns back to the gunship with gritted teeth, wishing he hadn’t asked. The remainder of the family are making a concerted effort to look anywhere but at their house. Even the former watchman feels part of his mind pulling his glance back. He can’t stand those creatures.
He fastens himself back into the pilot’s chair and lifts off. Rennin wonders how Wayne’s children became infected, and how long they’ve been locked in the attic. The thought nags at him. Would it have made any difference if he arrived earlier; could they have been saved?
Rennin grinds his teeth together when he thinks of whoever released this disastrous affliction.
Not too long ago he was happy enough to let the world burn. Mostly he still is, but now there are some people he wants to keep alive. He’s not entirely sure whether he actually wants them to live or if he just doesn’t want to feel a sense of defeat at having someone in his ‘care’ taken from him.