Provenance I - Flee The Bonds (35 page)

Dee reached for his utility belt. ‘Get back!’ His shout went unheard. The AH grabbed the Defender’s smoking barrel and yanked it, at the same time its fist blurred, burying itself deep inside the Defender’s helmet.

Dee leapt from cover, whipped the length of fizzing thermoplas around the AH’s neck and pulled back, his hand still clutching the yellow filament. The AH spun and lashed out, its balled hand striking Dee’s chest protector. Under the deformed plate, his ribcage cracked in shards of pain. He flew backwards, his back plates slamming into the concrete wall a fraction of a second before his helmet.

Through a daze of pinpoint lights he watched the AH claw at the white-hot thermoplas bubbling around its neck. Globules of liquid fire dripped from the its hands and danced on the polished concrete. It wasn’t dead, but it was out of the fight.

Dee wobbled on unsteady feet. ‘NETALL, alpha one. Fall back, fall back!’

He limped back into the corridor and leant against the wall, his breathing shallow, and painful. Rifle fire resonated off the mustard walls, hammering spikes into his aching head. A Defender covered the doorway to the vault, another lay nearby while two more fought to save him.

Dee raised his MPS. ‘Alpha two, alpha one. Sitrep, over.’

‘Alpha two. Pinned down. No exit. Need multiple medevacs.’ Incessant crackling almost drowned the voice.

‘Roger, where are you?’ Dee never heard the reply.

The black Prefects filed into the corridor, their armoured shells scraping through the warehouse’s double doors. A total of four hummed past, their exhausts filling the corridor with ionised gas.

One by one, they pivoted left into the vault.

Dee’s breathing slowed. He didn’t know who’d activated them but he sure was going to say thanks.

‘NETALL, alpha one. Papa romeos heading your way, keep your heads down. Out.’

He rubbed his smarting eyes; a tingling numbness burned in his chest, something was broken. His eyes snapped open, a voice screamed from his MPS, ‘Alpha one! Alpha one! The prees are engaging us!’ Dee stared at the blank screen. ‘Alpha one, unknown call sign, say again over.’ His shoulders slumped, he’d heard the first time.

‘Papa romeos are attacking everyone!’

The order tumbled from Dee’s dry mouth. ‘NETALL, alpha one. Fall back to the loading bay!’ He shouted into the corridor, ‘Evac, now!’ His eyes locked with a kneeling Defender, who responded with a headshake. Dee’s gaze fell to the bare torso riddled with the bloody consequences of his misjudgement, of everything and everybody.

He led the remaining Defenders back through the darkened warehouse, its once cool air humming with hot metallic gas and its mountainous racks twinkling with a galaxy of red stars.

After three turns of his MPS selector Steve’s face appeared.

‘You okay Dee?’

‘Broken ring.’

‘I’m on my way.’

18:05 SAT 04:11:2119

MP 14, Neuhame, Austria, Sector 2

Steve jumped from the whining jet-hover into the lank wet grass. The golden haze of MP 14’s security lights bloomed over the silhouetted treetops.

Francois joined him. ‘Remember, our mission is not authorised, we must not interfere.’

‘Agreed. Can you reach Dee?’

‘No, nothing still.’

Steve glanced over his shoulder at Alex. ‘Go ahead, clear a path through the trees.’

Alex and Morton disappeared into the darkness. Francois unclipped his Cogent. ‘You know that artificials are not permitted in combat.’

‘I know. Humans are cheaper.’ Steve’s MPS vibrated. ‘Go ahead, Alex.’

‘Path cleared, Morton has neutralised one of the Resistance.’

Steve led Francois through the trees and joined Alex and Morton at the perimeter wall. He grabbed Morton’s shoulder plate and spun him around. ‘I hope you understood what I said, neutralising doesn’t mean killing.’

Morton jerked his shoulder free. ‘He is only maimed.’

Steve’s arm shot up, his elbow snapping it rigid; the plasma ball had already left his Cogent. Above their heads, luminescence exploded like a firework.

Leaving a trail of sparks in its wake, the glowing Halo careened out of control into the trees.

Steve lowered his Cogent. ‘I think we should go.’

* * * *
 

The loading bay roller door rattled down behind Steve and the lights flickered on. Prostrate Defenders lined the far wall, some covered with body bags, others with field dressings. Dee’s mission had gone very wrong indeed.

He stepped towards a begrimed sergeant, ‘What’s the LOCNET code?’

‘4-9-0-7-5, sir.’

Steve rotated his MPS selector. ‘Alpha one, alpha. Sitrep, over.’

‘Stevie is that you! You’re too late man, better get outta here.’

‘Where are you?’

‘In the assembly hall, I’m gonna go back in the vault from here.’

‘Forget it. Your Cogent won’t work on these Prefects. Sit tight, we’re coming in through the shipping office.’ Steve unclipped his Cogent and rolled the serrated wheel all the way forward.

He found Dee slumped in the console chair. Three Defenders crouched along the assembly hall’s west wall, covering the door to the vault. To his right, under a frosty glare, the leviathan production line weaved its robotic tune.

Dee swivelled wearily to face him. ‘Stevie, you took your time.’

‘You’re so high I doubt you know what day it is.’ He took hold of Dee’s right arm and tapped the attached MCD. The first item on the diagnosis flashed red.

‘You need a medevac.’

‘I’m fine, just need another shot.’ Dee flicked his head back towards the vault door. ‘I’ve still got people in there.’

‘You’ve stage two hypovolemic shock, three cracked ribs
and
you’ve managed to OD on Cyclohexanonate. Your fight’s over, buddy.’ Steve’s focus moved to the silver door, ‘Besides, I haven’t heard a—.’ He jerked up; the transformer vault door flew open releasing a rush of throbbing air. A pair of black coveralls stumbled through the doorway, half dragging, half carrying a Defender. Steve’s hand shot up. ‘Don’t shoot!’

His shoulders clamped at the explosive report. He spun around. Alex’s left hand gripped the smoking barrel of the XH-34 pointing at roof trusses. Morton still had his finger on the trigger.

A snarling Morton attempted to dislodge Alex’s grip. ‘The decree states all terrorists must be shot on sight.’

Steve stepped forward and breathed on Morton’s polymer face. ‘That
terrorist
just saved a Defender.’ He swung his head to Alex. ‘Can you go and check on them?’

Steve turned to Francois. ‘I think we need to find out what’s going on, and quick.’ He knew Francois had no choice but to keep up the pretence.

Francois tapped his MCD. CONSEC’s steel rings disintegrated into a haggard Admiral Choo.

‘Commander Thibeauchet, why are you at MP 14?’

‘Admiral, Captain Brandleson is injured, there is a problem with the Prefects, they have attacked Defenders.’

‘Yes, we know. The Resistance have sabotaged them. You will leave MP 14, immediately.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Francois turned his back on Steve. ‘We must go!’

Steve turned in the opposite direction. ‘How is he?’

Alex knelt by the Defender, an open medpac lay on the concrete floor, ‘Mild concussion, otherwise fine.’

To Steve’s right, a Defender covered the black coveralls standing by the gantry steps. Steve closed in, ‘You can take the balaclava off now.’

Its removal revealed a lump of a jaw, bushy eyebrows over small grey eyes and tousled chestnut hair.

‘Gerhard?’

Gerhard’s chin rose, his eyes defiant. ‘Hello, Steve. I am sorry that we meet like this, but I must fight now. SIS have killed Jannae.’ He glanced left. ‘Who is that person?’

Steve looked over his shoulder. ‘Who? Nooo!’

The 6.45mm armour-piercing projectile hammered the air, terminating in a wet thump. Steve twisted his head back in time to see Gerhard slump to the floor. A slick black stain spread across the deflated chest.

In one movement, Steve spun around and levelled his Cogent. ‘Stand aside, Francois.’

Francois had taken position in front of Morton. ‘Morton obeyed the decree, that man was Resistance.’

The vault door creaked, a black suitcase of a body scrapped through and turned. Steve whirled towards it; searing pain ripped through his shoulder. ‘Alex!’

The plasma ball left the barrel of Steve’s Cogent, but it would strike too late. The Prefect had selected its light-gas coil gun. A hypervelocity metal pellet struck Alex’s left shoulder plate at 2900 m/s.

Steve skewed his head as two blinding flashes exploded in the corner. He glanced back and relaxed his trigger finger. The Prefect’s smoking carcass tilted and crashed down to the concrete. As it toppled, a hatch atop its seared black shell opened and a gleaming white cube clattered across the floor.

He rammed the Cogent into its holster and shouted at a Defender. ‘Find something to jam the door, tell the others to do the same with the warehouse.’

The Defender hesitated. ‘What about those still trapped?’

Steve strode towards Alex, ‘They’re gone.’ He directed a glare at Morton who was shielding Francois. ‘You and I are going to have a reckoning.’

Morton’s head bobbed. ‘Yes, we are.’

Alex lay on his back, surrounded by misshapen black fragments of suit armour. Beneath where his left shoulder plate should have been, acidulous vapours rose from a fist-size hole, its blackened edges melding the suit to skin. The hypervelocity pellet had pierced Alex’s skeletal armour, exposing a tangle of carbon strands and the glinting rods and joints of his exoskeleton.

Steve knelt, his eyes drilling into the cavity. Something caught his attention, something that didn’t belong. ‘What’s the damage?’

Alex’s head slanted towards the hole. ‘I’m okay, but I need you to clip the primary axillary hose.’ Steve’s nose twitched, creamy fluid seeped into the steaming cavity.

‘Steve, we must leave.’

Steve reluctantly switched his attention to an anxious looking Francois, ‘Get Dee on board, we’ll be along in a minute.’

Tugging hard he managed to separate the suit from the fused skin in a series of disconcerting rips. Despite Alex’s bizarre conviction to the contrary he was, thankfully, not human. Steve retrieved a pair of scissors and cut through the olive T-shirt.

Alex’s voice rose. ‘What is it?’

Steve pulled back, his eyes transfixed. Embedded in Alex’s chest was a shallow metal disc, one-half filled with a complex pressing of a silver dolphin. The other half was empty. ‘Where did you get that?’

Alex peered down his nose. ‘I don’t know; it’s always been there. The other dolphin’s missing.’

Steve reached out and touched the dolphin. To his surprise, nothing happened. ‘No it’s not. Penny has it around her neck.’ He looked up, straight into Morton’s dark eyes. The oily smirk left no doubt that he’d heard.
That’s why SIS need me.
Trepidation crawled into Steve’s chest. Alex’s dolphin was a copy, but the original could only have come from Steve’s parents.
And
that’s why Alex looks like Matt. They created him.
In one fearful rush, all of Dee’s anxieties shivered through his body.

He lowered his head, ‘We need to hurry.’

Steve made an incision just below the collarbone, exposed the amber tube with a retractor, and clamped off the hydrolastic fluid. After attaching an arterial clip, he used the forceps to remove the transducer and unshackle Alex from SIS.

‘How’s that?’

Alex rolled his shoulder, ‘Might have to play underarm for a while.’ Steve shook his head and smiled.
You always did.

* * * *
 

Francois hovered a hundred metres below the cloud base. On the far shore, Steve watched intermittent flashes break through the forest’s black canopy. Someone was still fighting.

Movement registered in his periphery, ‘Look!’

Francois banked the jet-hover in the direction of Steve’s finger.

Guided by a wedge of cold light, the black Prefects swarmed out of the breach in the transformer vault and disappeared into the night.

22:11 SAT 04:11:2119

Intra Zone, Seine
-
et
-
Marne, France, Sector 2

Supporting the vintage espresso cup with his index finger and thumb, Francois took a sharp slurp of the fine Arabica coffee. Above the
salle de bleu’s
mantelpiece, the gilt-edged screen cycled through a series of live network feeds. Fires raged everywhere, the Resistance were attacking zones in all Sectors.

There were casualties, but they were not his. Francois had yet to commit his soldiers.

He directed his smile right, ‘The Resistance do well.’

Morton did not return the smile; his impenetrable dark eyes glinted under the chandelier’s
éclat
. ‘We cannot claim victory until I have terminated Arrowsbury.’

Francois lowered his cup. ‘I thank you for your
fidélité
, but I suggest you do not try. We need to find his girlfriend, she has the key.’

The side of Morton’s mouth curled. ‘We know someone who can help?’

‘Do we?’

Morton gripped the polished mahogany tabletop and eased back, ‘A SCITECH officer contaminated with bionanos arrived on Provenance at the same time as Steve.
She
was taken to MEDLAB 06-21-15, before vanishing from the logs. Ensign Annissiara was on duty.’ A thin smile creased Morton’s stubbled jaw. ‘She is talking to us.’

Francois steepled his fingers, he did not like the word ‘us’ in that context, neither did he like
brutalité
. Artificials were disconnected from humanity. They had no concept of pain, physical or emotional. That made them perfect torturers.

Francois had decided. When he took command, they would return to absolute servitude.

‘You do not forget your allegiance?’

Morton’s facial actuators expressed indignation, ‘Of course not.’

‘Good, locate
Mademoiselle
Merblayn.’

Francois’s MCD vibrated. He tapped the screen. ‘Report.’

A man whispered. ‘The black Prefects attack us still; the APRs do not stop them.’