Biohell (69 page)

“Soldiers? Who for?” said Keenan.

Oz smiled. “Why. For the Quad-Gal
Military. Who else?”

“I don’t believe you. QGM are an
ethical outfit; they would never condone the deviation of existing human and
alien species. They have compassion. They have... morals.”

Oz shrugged. “You believe what
you want to believe,” he said, voice level. He licked his lips, tongue rimed in
blood. “And I
know
what I know. I have the paperwork in my office.
Signed, stamped and sealed. In triplicate.”

“What about the others?” said
Franco, voice cool now, eyes hooded.

“What others?”

“The zombies,
NanoTek Man.
Out
there on the streets. Out there in The City. The
millions
who are
fighting and murdering and killing! What about them? What happened with the
biomods? What changed them? What in the name of God went wrong?”

Oz closed his mouth, jewelled
teeth giving a tiny
clack.
He stared back at Franco. He did not reply.

“Talk, damn you!”

Oz remained silent, his eyes
moving over to Pippa and the three dormant GK AIs. Oz smiled then, an eerie,
blood-shadowed expression which fired a warning shot through Keenan’s brain
like a lightning bolt...

Behind Oz, Xakus appeared from a
turret stairwell, his face blank, his eyes fixed on Keenan and the drama
unfolding in the castle courtyard. His boots thumped cobbles and he moved
forward, easily. Keenan’s eyes dropped to the MMS Xakus held; it was slender, a
beautiful, curved weapon with a horizontal magazine and tiny, glowing blue
lights. Keenan had only ever seen one before, and he still remembered the
devastating charges it could pulse across a battlefield, destroying tanks,
aircraft, pigs, armoured crawlers,
anything
that got in its way. It was
deeply illegal throughout Sinax.

“That’s a Military Molecule
Stripper,” said Franco from the corner of his mouth.

Keenan nodded. “We thought you
were dead.”

Xakus shook his head. “Merely...
disabled.”

“Hey Professor, point that thing
at the GKs,” said Franco, gesturing at the sculpted AIs. “Don’t be waving it
near me,
my
beard doesn’t need that kind of industrial trim!”

“No,” said Keenan, voice gentle.

As Xakus moved forward, so the
MMS came to rest aiming squarely at the Combat K men.

“Sorry Keenan. It’s a long story.
Take the loop from Oz’s throat; it’s hard for him to call me off when he’s got
no head.”

Franco glared at Xakus. “What?
Where? When? What’s going down, man? You were here to help us! Steinhauer sent
us to
you\
Said you were to be trusted! You were going to decode the
SinScript...”

“I am to be trusted.” Xakus
grinned. He no longer looked weary. His eyes sparkled with energy. In fact, the
harder Keenan stared, the more he realised Xakus wasn’t quite as old as he
claimed... or maybe, now, he was simply showing his true agenda. “Only not by
you. Now, Keenan, step away, before I turn this devastating example of military
brutality on your Combat K buddies.”

Keenan tensed, and Franco glanced
at him. For a split second he thought Keenan was going to cut Oz’s head free
and launch into a bout of hardcore violence; so he readied himself, mentally
and physically. ..

Instead, Keenan freed the loop
from Oz’s throat, staining his gloves with blood. Oz turned, looked up into
Keenan’s eyes, and smiled, stepping back as the three GKs surged into life and
leapt forward, guns aimed at Keenan and Franco.

Again, the fickle tables had been
turned.

“I’m getting damn sick of this,”
muttered Franco.

“Rwwll.”

“What’s that?”

“Rwllwl rwlw.”

“Aye.”

“What happened, Xakus?” said
Keenan, voice soft. “They offer you more money than Steinhauer? They offer you
a big fat pension fund to bring in Combat K. Gods, when we broke our
Prohibition D order we really dredged up some scum.”

“No,” said Xakus. “You
misunderstand. Steinhauer sent you to me for a reason. I have not
betrayed
Steinhauer.
In fact, we’ll let him explain it himself.”

From the same arched stairwell
doorway that had disgorged Xakus stepped the stocky figure of General K.
Steinhauer. He was smiling, and ran a hand through grey hair, pursed his lips,
as if in thought, then rubbed at the pock-marked skin of his cheeks. He strode
forward, large frame carried with power, grace, élan. He stopped several metres
clear of the group, as if gauging their strength. He glanced at Dr Oz, and the
two men had a moment of unspoken communication. Steinhauer smiled at Keenan.

“Well done, my lad.”

“Who you gonna bring out next, my
mother?”

“You have travelled here, through
this genetic mess, for a reason.”

“Which is?”

“QGM need Combat K reformed. We
have a series of highly illegal, immoral and dangerous missions, and we need
you to lead specialist hard-ops teams out there in the field. You are the best.
Combat K’s best. Without a doubt. Your record is untarnished...”

“What about Terminus5? We nearly
melted the fucking
planet.”

“You did not err,” said
Steinhauer, voice powerful, gaze iron. “And I admit to you, here, now, that you
were exploited by a politician whose rank far exceeds mine. Nevertheless,
Terminus5 is irrelevant... a bad dream.”

“Not to me it isn’t,” snarled
Keenan. “My family were
murdered
whilst I served time for that bullshit.
And now you try and tell me Combat K are the best, and you’ve got a whole
series of new and exciting missions lined up. Well, fuck you Steinhauer.” He
turned, glared at Pippa. “And fuck you as well, bitch.”

Pippa’s lips narrowed, but she
did not respond.

“Wait, wait!” Steinhauer stepped
forward, went as if to put his hand on Keenan’s shoulder, but thought better of
it. “You, and Franco, working your way across The City to this place... it was
a test, my lad. To check you were still the best. You’ve proved you’ve given up
the alcohol, and you don’t let your family’s deaths get in the way of a
mission. And Franco, he has proved he’s not as insane as he looks. Combat K are
ready.”

“What about the SinScript?”
Keenan’s eyes were cold, his gaze that of a desolate ice tomb. “You gonna tell
me next you set up the junk’s invasion of Galhari?”

“No, that atrocity is real,
unfolding, a drama we cannot stem.” Steinhauer’s voice was stern. “We will
decode the SinScript in a few short moments— only the GreenSource Mainframe can
do that. After Xakus failed to decode the SinScript using the CryptorBox we
came to realise nothing else in Quad-Gal had the computational power to unlock
the junk’s secrets. The SinScript is a device designed by a different age, an
ancient people.”

“Leviathan’s people?”

Steinhauer, again, exchanged
glances with Oz. Then back to Keenan. His eyes were trusting, open, honest. He
smiled, like father to son, “Listen to me, Keenan. You, and Franco, and Pippa,
you helped Emerald... one of the few remaining Kahirrim, a servant to an
extinct GODRACE. I know it was not your intention; but you were duped, by the
man known as Akeez.” He laughed. “This game, Keenan, this game is bigger than
both of us. QGM, with the help of the politician Kotinevitch, has assembled the
largest WarFleet ever seen across the Four Galaxies. We knew this day was
coming. We knew, one way or another, in this century, or the next, or the next,
that Leviathan was going to rear its ugly head. This gameboard has existed for
a hundred thousand years. A
million
years. It is unfortunate the dice
have rolled in our lifetimes.”

“To be brutal,” said Keenan, “what
the hell has that to do with us?”

“You were there,” hissed
Steinhauer, eyes glowing. “You
saw
Leviathan. You survived. And more
than that; Emerald called you
Dark Flames.
That is more than a simple
label. It means you are special, Keenan; Combat K is special. You—the three of
you—have part of the alien in your blood, and as such, you may see things, do
things, that no other mortal can achieve. We have monitored you on your journey
across The City; few humans would have survived such odds.”

“What about the junks?” said
Keenan. “They are Leviathan’s army?”

“Yes. But they are weak, and old;
in the SinScript are their plans for expansion. They are a hive-mind creature;
each and every one linked by script. When one dies, they all suffer. When one
kills, they all rejoice. They are a walking, talking, breathing
bacteria.
Keenan,
we must stop them before they wipe out more life in the Sinax Cluster. We must
halt their conquest and decode their plans.”

“I don’t like being used,” said
Keenan. His eyes were bleak. He glanced right, to Pippa. “And I don’t think
my...
comrades...
like being manipulated, as well.”

“Certain protocols had to be
observed.”

“Yeah?” Keenan cast his gaze
across the group. Across Oz, Xakus, Steinhauer, the AI machines relaxed with
weapons, then over Franco and finally, to Pippa. She gave him a short, cold
smile and Keenan frowned. He did not understand that smile.

Steinhauer sighed, turned, and
nodded to the GKs. The AI machines sprang at Pippa, who leapt back, suddenly,
but was caught off-guard, surrounded instantly, and punched to the ground with
stunning force, brutal betrayal. They stripped the woman’s weapons,
carefully—she carried a small arsenal—then Nyx stooped, lifting the dazed
ex-member of Combat K and gazing down to where a trickle of blood stained the
corner of her mouth. Nyx carried Pippa, and dumped her at Keenan’s feet.
Franco, beside Keenan now, glanced back to Mel, who gave a low slow nod, and
Franco felt the situation escalating into insanity...

Pippa groaned, and pushed herself
to her elbows. “What the fuck’s going on, Oz? I thought we had a deal?”

“You are surplus to requirements,”
said Dr Oz, gaze focused. “You have served your purpose. You controlled the
GKs. You proved yourself against Ranger. And the
others.
So many others.
Now, it’s time to return to your military unit. Your natural brood. Time to
reform Combat K. Whether you like it,” he smiled, “or whether you do not.”

“What?”
Pippa laughed, and spat on the
cobbles. “You’ve got to be kidding, right? You’ve got be fucking
insane.
I’m
not working with these two lunatics. Ever. Again.”

“I’ll second that,” said Keenan. “I’d
rather put a bullet in her skull than work missions with the murdering bitch.
She killed my wife. My two little girls.” He met Pippa’s gaze. “I’d rather rot
in hell for all eternity than touch her flesh. She is abomination to me.”

“And what about me?” said Franco,
holding out his hands, palms outwards. “Eh? Eh? Nobody’s asked
my damn
opinion in all of this!
Huh, I tell you, some people are so
rude.
”

Nobody spoke.

“Fuck you all,” said Pippa, eyes
hard like frozen, interstellar hydrogen.

“You will co-operate,” said
Steinhauer. “Combat K will reform. And Combat K will carry out missions for QGM
and NanoTek.” His face had gone hard. Gone were paternal smiles, the easy
manner, the ambience of fatherhood. It had been replaced with iron. No
compromise. “All three of you
will
co-operate, because you have been
implanted with spinal logic cubes. If you do not work together, then you all
die. If one of you,” he bared his teeth in a smile, “kills another, then again,
all three die. Horribly.”

“I’d rather die,” snapped Pippa,
voice tombstone cold.