Tom Aston - The Machine

Stone didn’t expect that to work, but it might provoke some anger, which was a start.

‘I have a better idea,’ shouted Ekstrom, standing over him. ‘You like to get me angry. But you won’t like me when I’m angry!’ He wasn’t angry. He was still thinking, and he wanted to give Stone something to think about too. Ekstrom grabbed Stone by both ankles and dragged him from under the gear and off the transporter. Stone roared in pain. He wondered if he’d pass out. Stone needed to be cool, to think. But he couldn’t think, he couldn’t hear. He felt himself hauled through waves of pain towards the bottom of the slope. Ekstrom, stopped, smiled at him, and callously twisted the broken ankle over.

‘This is the point of most pain, I think. Anatomy 101.’

Stone roared again as the pain overwhelmed him. He knew what Ekstrom was doing, but couldn’t fight back. Ekstrom twisted him so Stone was lying on his front, then took a strap from his breathing set, tied Stone’s hands and left him lying on his back.

‘A good place I think,’ said Ekstrom. ‘Now, you will tell me how to power down the Machine. Otherwise I go up the hill, and I take the brake from the transport truck, which will roll down the hill, with all its load, and collide with the crown of your head.’ He tapped Stone on the top of the head. ‘Your skull is thick, for sure, Stone. But not thick enough. You are killed in a tragic accident. You see, Stone. I like accidents. Even Semyonov can’t object to accidents. He’s an honest man, Semyonov, but he is desperate for his Machine. He will work with anyone to get it out. Even you. And if you have an accident, he works with me. He won’t ask too many questions. About as many questions as he asked about Carslake’s death, I should think.’

Ekstrom was far too near to the truth for Stone’s liking. Semyonov was too sick for the luxury of a conscience. His Machine, his legacy, his monument — were all that mattered to him. Semyonov had discovered Oyang’s money grubbing and weapons trading. But done nothing, just escaped the hassle. He hadn’t given a crap about Carslake either.

‘Last chance, Stone,’ called Ekstrom calmly from the top of the slope. ‘You will be killed in an accident, and I will ask Semyonov how to proceed. He will tell me. You know he will.’ Stone was lying face down, looking straight up the slope. He could hear Ekstrom shoving the Machine upright, back up onto the truck, and pulling the transformer back into place next to the liquid nitrogen chiller unit. Any second now, the truck would come speeding out of the mist. Stone’s only hope was to some how slither out of the way using his good leg.

Ekstrom’s face appeared grinning out of the mist. He was bent over, like some kid on a home-made go-kart, trundling, whirring down the hill, picking up speed. The whirr became a deafening rattle of rimless wheels on the rocky tunnel floor. Stone was scrabbling on knee and chest to his right. Hands still tied behind his back. No hope. Pathetic. Ekstrom would just steer the truck at him, wherever he went. Stone looked at his short blond hair, and those white Swedish teeth in a childish grin of satisfaction.

The dead boom of a handgun. Shocking and familiar. A red gash appeared on Ekstrom’s head. About the length of a ball pen. Blood spattered over the roof of the tunnel and arced over Stone’s back. Ekstrom’s body tumbled limp over the front of the truck. Jamming the wheels of the truck. The truck slewed off, slammed into the wall. Ekstrom came to and slithered down the slope, shaking his head like he was concussed.

Semyonov’s Machine slid off the truck again, and the alien intelligence rolled pathetically past Stone to the bottom of the slope, like a trashcan falling from a dumpster. It stopped with a jerk, held again by the power line from the battery unit. It nestled by the first of the steel pit props. Ekstrom reached out his hands and crawled down towards it.

The pain, the ankle, still welling up, throwing stars into his eyes. Then a creaking, pulling, crumbling sound behind Stone. Shit. What now?

‘You should stay home, Rockhead, and leave to me,’ she said scampering past him down the slope with a handgun. ‘Trouble is following you. Don’t need go looking for more.’

Black jeans, spiky hair, those black cotton pumps on her feet. Velvet steps along the tunnel. No suit, no helmet, no mask. Ying Ning. Trouble didn’t need to follow her. She had her own personal supply. And if she got any closer to the Machine that gun was going to fly right out of her hand.

She walked straight up to Ekstrom, four metres from him, and four metres from the Machine. The gun was still in her hand. Ekstrom was below the Machine on the slope, trying to escape. He was getting to his feet, blood running from his head. That was no more than a bullet graze on his skull.

‘Stop! Stop there, Ekstrom,’ she called. The gun was still there. In her hand.

‘You won’t do it, little lady,’ Ekstrom sneered.

You bet your arse she will. Our Swedish friend obviously hadn’t heard she’d done for Carslake. But Stone wasn’t going to disabuse him. Ying Ning held the gun trained on Ekstrom.

‘You can’t shoot straight, honey,’ goaded Ekstrom. ‘Missed last time. You need to get nearer if you want to kill me.’

‘Stay back!’ called Stone. ‘It’s magnetized!’

Ying Ning advanced two steps. ‘Nearer,’ said Ekstrom. ‘You don’t want to miss, do you? Closer.’

‘Stay back, Ying.’

‘Why you want this Machine, Swedish?’ she said. ‘What can you do? It belongs to Chinese people.’

‘I was helping Mr Semyonov,’ said Ekstrom. ‘He’s sick. I wanted to bring the Machine out for him.’

Some hope. Ekstrom was a snake, but not as clever as he thought. He was the killer who won by being cooler, harder. By caring less. But he’d just met his match. She was a real killer, this woman. Stone watched her calm the situation, get the man at his ease. A static target. Then execution. Cold-hearted. Saving Stone’s life back there had been pure accident. Stone was absolutely expendable to Ying Ning. So, even, was Semyonov. Ying Ning was here for the Machine.

The handgun clicked. Misfired — as Stone half expected. Ying Ning must have figured it too. That’s why she’d delayed, and why she’d come so near. The gun was some novel plastic weapon. One of Oyang’s less successful ventures.

But Ekstrom wasn’t figuring. He was looking at the steel pit prop coming away from the rock wall, dragged in by the Machine. He risked it. Turned around and ran down the tunnel. Ying Ning’s gun clicked a second time, as a slab of ironstone bigger than a man fell from the tunnel ceiling.

‘ Ta ma de ShinComm! ’ Cursing in Chinese, Ying Ning threw the gun down the tunnel after Ekstrom. She turned back to Stone. ‘You know how to power down? This Machine will trap by falling rocks. We need to power down.’

Ying Ning didn’t waste time with people. Forget injuries and near death, she was worried about the Machine. Stone’s broken ankle and hog-tied arms were beside the point.

‘Untie me and I’ll tell you,’ shouted Stone. ‘And pull me away from those rocks before we both get crushed.’

She untied him and dragged him back up the hill. There was another catastrophic fall of rock. She limped him over to the massive battery unit and they both hauled on the power cable, which led from the battery, to pull the Machine free. No use. The black cylinder was buried under the ironstone which was still falling, its magnets sucking the rocks towards it. The tunnel would be blocked any minute.

‘There’s no point powering down,’ said Stone. ‘We can’t get near and it takes too long. We need to reconnect the nuke power to the battery unit, otherwise the whole thing’s going to die.’