David Gunn - Death's head

“Worse than treason?”

General Jaxx looks at me before turning his attention to the major. “You may go,” he tells the man. As we both watch, the man holsters his gun and limps from the outer office, being careful to salute the general before he leaves.

“Treason,” says the general, “is a nasty thing.”

“Yes,” I say. “The worst.”

“Apparently you killed a Death’s Head captain for treason.”

Which is how I know he’s questioned at least one other survivor before me.

“No one’s hurt,” says the general, as if reading my mind. “I talked briefly to one of the militia generals.”

He smiles, seeing my confusion. “The man disguised himself as a common soldier. Not impressive in my opinion. Although he’s very pleased with himself…Apparently you killed the captain for insulting OctoV. What did the man say?”

“That our beloved leader is a simple machine.”

“And what do you think?”

“Me?” My shrug is careless. “I refuse to believe it.”

“That he’s a machine?”

“That there’s anything simple about OctoV.”

The general laughs and pours himself a glass of whiskey from a decanter on a side table. He doesn’t offer me one. “Go on,” he says.

“Who knows if OctoV is a machine?” I say, pouring a glass of my own. “Or if it matters? I don’t do big questions. I do small ones.”

“Such as?”

“Can we take that hill? Yes, probably…Are the Aux good? Yes, we’re fucking excellent…Did we win at Ilseville? You bet we did…That’s my level. I leave the difficult stuff to people like you.”

General Jaxx is watching me, very carefully.

And that’s fine with me, because every minute he’s watching me is a minute he’s not ordering my execution. When he reaches the end of his whiskey, I pour him another, and the fact that he lets me get that close makes me feel a tiny bit more confident. Although it may just be that I’m covered by several hundred hidden weapons systems.

To check, I put down my own drink and say, “I’m going to put my hand in my jacket pocket. Is that okay?”

His smile answers my question about those defenses. Part of me wants to scan the room to see what he’s got, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Haze has suggested I limit my use of the kyp, and his reasons are as convincing as Paper Osamu’s. We’re deep enough in the shit as it is.

Reaching into my jacket, I find what I want. The folded scrap of paper is authentically filthy, crinkled with sweat, rain, and blood. “This is why we surrendered,” I say, putting it on the table between us.

The general unfolds it carefully, reads it once, and then reads it again. A click of his fingers brings an orderly running.

“Verify this,” he says.

We wait in silence until the corporal returns. He’s looking nervous, which is understandable in the circumstances. “The paper is authentic, the signature genuine. The writing is not Colonel Nuevo’s…”

“It’s mine.”

General Jaxx is surprised. “You can write?”

“My old lieutenant taught me.”

A wave dismisses the orderly. “So,” says the general. “You expect me to believe that Colonel Nuevo lost Ilseville intentionally…as part of a greater plan. But that you were the only officer he told?”

I nod.

The general laughs. “I imagine,” he says, “this is the point I’m meant to ask what’s in your pretty little silver sack.”

“Except you already know.”

He shakes his head. “Free technology,” he says. “Beyond our scanners.”

“Then how do you know it’s not a bomb?”

General Jaxx looks at me as if I’m an idiot. “Because Paper Osamu gave her word you’d be returned to me unharmed and unarmed. She also gave me a gun, which she insisted belongs to you.”

“It does.”

“Yes,” says the general. “That’s what the gun says.”

He nods at the sack in my hand. “We’ll be taking that bag later, as I’m sure our friend Colonel Madeleine will want to play.” He names the old woman who made me my new arm.

“How is she?”

“Same as she’s been for the last two hundred years. Annoying, but brilliant.” Cool eyes examine me. “She likes you. I doubt you realize how unusual that is.”

And I remember this man is supposed to like me, too. Someone said that months back, Sergeant Hito possibly. “Sir…the Free offered me asylum.”

I thought that would get his attention.

“And you refused?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Already knowing the penalty for surrender?” The man’s sigh is deep, almost irritated.

“I killed a three-braid.”

Blue eyes turn to watch me.

“Then I killed a seven, only I had to leave his head in a bucket, because it seemed stupid to bring it with me on the march. So there goes my proof.”

“Asylum and two dead braids…You know,” says the general, “I almost believe you.”

“But I did bring this.”

He takes my bag and winces at the stink as he loosens its drawstring. “Another one?” There’s no need for me to answer, because he’s already extracting the contents, holding the rotting skull by the braids.

“Shit,” he says. “Xantro…Tamdell?” The general looks puzzled. “Where did you get this?”

“Killed it, just before the U/Free arrived.”

“This is a ten-braid,” he says. “What was a high political doing aboard that ship?”

“Used to have eleven snakes, sir,” I tell the general. “One of them got torn off during the fight.”

“Duza?”

I nod, watching glee flood his eyes.

Politics is a weirdshit thing. The implications have escaped me, but I’ve got them now. The surrender at Ilseville hurts the general as much as it does us. Of course, he’s not actually dead like most of the drop, but he’s damaged in the eyes of OctoV, and damaged in the eyes of OctoV is not a good place to be.

“Let me get this clear. You killed General Duza?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Cut off her head.”

“ Sir, ” he says. “That’s Yes, sir…Cut off her head, sir. ”

Then Jaxx is laughing loud enough to startle me. “Ah, Tveskoeg,” he says. “What will we do without you?”

Without me?

“You’ll find someone else…sir.”

“Indeed I will,” he says.

Golden memories is almost empty when we walk through the door. A handful of half-dressed girls sit in one corner chatting. Per Olson, the man from the breaking yard, is at a table with his son, who’s dismantling a spider bot with the single-minded intensity that only small boys can bring to such tasks.

Lisa sees me first.

And then Lisa sees the Aux behind me. Maybe it’s the sight of us all; maybe something in Shil’s eyes warns her that things have changed. Whichever, Lisa’s both a survivor and a quick learner. She walks across the barroom and kisses me carefully on both cheeks.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Longer than I expected. How’s my niece doing?”

Niece…? Shil’s eyes flick to my face. The others are content just to listen.

“Helping Angelique.”

A memory of Lisa and her cousin floods my mind…they’re naked and slightly drunk and very very willing. I try to shake it away.

“What, sir?” Franc demands.

“Old memories,” I tell her.

“It gets better,” says Haze, and I’m grateful for his interruption. “Like the headaches. You’ll lose the feedback soon.”

Shil scowls, because we’ve agreed not to talk about this stuff in public. Only Golden Memories isn’t in public, and I probably need to let Lisa know that. The Aux know already, though they’re puzzled by my reasons. Mind you, as I’m beginning to learn, that’s not always a bad thing.