Stephen Baxter - Flood

“But now the Inca sun rises once more.” He raised a military boot, and slammed it down on the coffin lid. The lid splintered and broke open. Ollantay reached down and hauled up a tangle of bones, broken and dusty, fragments threaded together with bits of wire into a loose representation of a skeleton. Ollantay grasped the skull, its jaw gaping open, and rattled the bones in the air. “Behold Pizarro! Behold Pizarro!”

There was a huge roar from his followers. Two men pushed upright a gibbet improvised from tent poles, and a noose was passed around the neck of the conquistador, five hundred years dead, his bones yellowed and splintered.

As the skeleton was hoisted aloft before the mighty walls of the temple, Mayor Thorson murmured, “God help us all.”

It had been an awfully long time since Cusco’s Estadio Universitario had been used for the purposes it was designed for, Lily reflected. Now the stadium’s pitch was crowded by tents and Portaloos. The grass was trampled and cut up by vehicle tracks, where it wasn’t covered by duck boards. Stocks of food and water had been laid in, the gates sealed shut, and gantries that had once hosted television cameras were home to machine gun nests. Lammockson’s private army was short on heavy weaponry, but the pitch was ringed by small artillery pieces.

This was where Nathan Lammockson would make his stand. Since the reports had come in of Ollantay’s approach with his ragged army, Lammockson had put in place a kind of scorched earth policy. He had retreated to this preprepared fortress with a couple of thousand people, his most trusted guards, his closest advisers and supporters, everybody that was precious and loyal to him, in fact. The rest of Project City had been evacuated, the citizens either holed up in churches and cellars or sent to Chosica where they were sheltering on the unfinished Ark. After that the town had been emptied of supplies. Nathan was convinced the rebels would disperse as soon as they got hungry and thirsty.

Inside the stadium the atmosphere was strange. The sky above was bright blue, and the sun, low this winter day, cast a golden light into the stadium, making the polished weaponry gleam, and the murmur of the thousands gathered in this echoing bowl gave it the feel of a sports crowd. It all made Lily feel peculiarly cheerful, as if it were a Saturday afternoon in London and she was taking Amanda’s kids to a football match, at Fulham or Queen’s Park Rangers. But a different sort of fixture was being planned today.

Lammockson himself was at the very center of the pitch, where once soccer teams had kicked off their matches. He was sitting in the sun on a fold-out canvas chair, sunglasses masking his face. But he was ringed by troops, and he sat only a few meters from two AxysCorp-livery helicopters that rested on the grass. Piers was with him, and Juan Villegas with Amanda sitting in the background, and Sanjay McDonald. Though he rarely spoke Piers had the distracted look of a man listening to a dozen conversations at once, probably through a mil-spec version of an Angel. Other advisers came and went, especially Nathan’s top military people, informing him of the disposition of the rebels. Nathan seemed cool amid the tension, like a director on some unlikely film set.

As Lily approached, Sanjay got up and hurried to her, small, intense, nervous, his beard ragged. “Lily, thank God. There’s news. I’ve been speaking to Thandie, in Denver.”

That cut through her preoccupation. “Thandie?”

“A Comsat drifted into the right position and we got a contact.. It’s surging again. The sea-level rise.”

For years the rise had roughly followed Thandie’s rule-of-thumb exponential curve, doubling every five years. But the reality was always more ragged, more uncertain than that.

“Another subterranean sea broke open, I guess,” Lily said.

“Something like that. Actually it backs up reports we had from Chosica. There have been flooding episodes below the town. Seems Nathan’s Ark Three might be floating off sooner than he expected. But that’s not all Thandie had to say. Listen, Lily. She’s made a place for herself in Denver, got in with government circles.”

Lily smiled. “That sounds like Thandie.”

“And she’s discovered-”

“So you showed up, Brooke.” Nathan had spotted Lily and cut across Sanjay.

Sanjay, anguished, had to break off.

Lily mouthed, “Later.” She turned to Nathan. Once she would have bridled at his goading, but over the years she’d hardened to his insults. “You know where I’ve been, Nathan. Touring the perimeter.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “You know the situation. The perimeter’s secure, all units in place, armed and provisioned. But the rebels are in place too.” She had looked down from the old TV gantries at the grubby army Ollantay had assembled, a band that stretched right around the walls of the stadium. They were like fans waiting to be admitted to a sports event, a cup final. But most sports fans didn’t go noisily looting surrounding properties, or letting off potshots at the stadium.

“So we’re under siege,” Nathan said, unperturbed. “Fuck ’em.”

“Ollantay himself is there,” Lily said, glancing at Amanda. “You can’t miss him, strutting around in his Inca feathers, that golden helmet gleaming. Kristie is with him. And the kid.” She admitted,“A sniper could take Ollantay out. You don’t even need the spotter scopes.”

Amanda looked away, her face white, her eyes shadows. Juan put his hand over hers.

Nathan shook his head. “No. I want him alive so he can surrender. That’s the most orderly way out of this.” He grinned at Lily in that cruel way of his. “And besides, to you he’s family.”

“Oh, shut up, Nathan,” Lily snapped. “And speaking of family, your own son’s been spotted out there too.” There had been rumors that Hammond had gone over to the rebels.

Now it was Nathan’s turn to look away. “Ah, the hell with him too. My boys are under instruction to keep him safe. When all this fizzles out he’ll come around. I’ll make him eat a little shit, and that will be that.”

“ ‘Fizzles out,’ ” Lily repeated. “You’re confident about that, are you?”

“Why not?”

Piers put in, “We planned for this, Lily. You know that.”

Project City had been preparing for Ollantay’s assault for weeks, putting into place operations that had been worked out over months and years, plans drawn up for the event of a rebellion. The rebels’ reinforcement by the Walker City Okies was just a complication. Nathan wanted minimal resistance, no fighting at all if possible, and he had forbidden the use of heavy weapons or mines unless absolutely necessary. He wanted to preserve his city intact, he said. Lily was among the few who knew Nathan had a plan B.

She glared at him. “No need for any last resorts, then, Nathan.”

“Not unless circumstances change,” he replied smoothly.

A single scream pierced the air like a bugle call.

Nathan stood. Amanda clung to Juan’s arm. Lily heard the rattle of weapons being cocked. There was a crump, a sound like distant thunder, and people flinched. Lily turned, scanning, looking for the source of the scream, the bang.

Suddenly AxysCorp soldiers fled from the tunnels where once the players had come out onto the sports field. Smoke gushed after them. They were pursued by people spilling out of the tunnels, ragged, mostly men but some women, even a few children. The men wore bright woollen tunics and cloaks. They all seemed to be armed, even some of the kids, and Lily recognized the deadly, simple form of Kalashnikovs.

Lammockson’s fortress was breached, just like that.

AxysCorp troops took shelter behind sandbag heaps and Portaloos. Gunfire began, the popping of small-arms fire, the rattle of automatic weapons. The first shots landed home, and people twitched like puppets and fell to the dirt. The troops around Lammockson drew in, their weapons at their shoulders. Lily heard the slicing noise of helicopter rotor blades cutting into the air.