David Gunn - Day of the Damned

‘I think you need to tell them,’ Aptitude says.

‘No,’ I say. ‘You do.’

‘It wasn’t as if I liked Senator Thomassi anyway,’ she says, then flushes at my smile. ‘You know what I mean.’

She’s right, I do.

Part of my problem is I’m not cut out for families. I don’t remember my parents. The woman who took me in, and told everyone I was her brother, was slaughtered by Lieutenant Bonafont, the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had.

See what I mean?

Never met a family that wasn’t more trouble than it was worth.

In a moment, Aptitude is going to drop the politeness she’s using to hold herself upright, and ask me the question that made her come to find me. I know what it is. Just as I know the answer she wants is not one I’ll give.

‘Dad wondered if you’d come upstairs.’

Obviously enough, that’s not the question.

We climb in silence. There are elevators on every floor of the compound. Brass-framed and panelled in dark wood. Never seen anyone use them. At the door of the roof terrace, I stop to let her catch up.

She’s ready with her question.

‘He didn’t mean it, did he? General Luc. When he said that about-’

‘Yes,’ I say, ‘he did.’

She turns away and I grab her wrist.

That’s how Debro finds us. So I guess she heard me on the stairs. For once, I ignore her. There are things I need to say. ‘Doesn’t mean I’m going to let it happen,’ I tell Aptitude.

She has tears in her eyes.

Putting my fist to my heart, I promise to protect Vijay Jaxx from General Luc. This oath will bind me until I d ie. When I look up, Debro’s staring. She’s remembering the vow I made on Paradise to protect her daughter.

It’s a Legion vow. Not made lightly.

Life in the Legion was simpler. You protect your own. And everyone wears uniform so you know who they are.

‘Catch,’ Anton says. Something arcs through the air and drops into my hand. The bottle is cold enough to have water dribbling down its side. ‘You look like a man who needs a beer.’

He smiles as I drain the bottle in one go.

Catching my empty, he tosses me another. This one takes two gulps. Debro and Aptitude look at each other. Beers gone, I notice there’s a fourth person on the terrace. Seeing me, she tries to stand.

Debro catches her before she hits the tiles.

A few seconds later, the trooper’s back in her chair and Debro’s glaring as if this is somehow my fault.

‘Tell her to stand easy,’ Anton mutters.

Her name is Leona. She’s a sergeant in the militia.

What I think is a sticky finish to her outrider jacket is droplets of oil from the smoke drifting over the rift. She came the long way round so as not to be seen. She says her mistake was radioing for permission to enter Debro’s estate. Someone in the local police obviously owns a band scanner.

She’s wrong, of course. The mistake isn’t hers.

Aptitude looks guilty.

‘Sorry, sir,’ Leona says.

I tell her it doesn’t matter.

Fair hair, slightly round face. She’s got that floppy fringe some NCOs wear to look more like officers. And she’s compact, rather than small. With a gaze that falters, before making itself hold mine.

Green, with splinters of slate. Her eyes are unusual enough to make me look again. And there’s enough bulk to her shoulders to say she works out.

The sergeant looks like she might be useful in a fight.

I file that information for later.

‘Sir,’ she says. ‘I have a delivery for you.’

‘From the general?’

When talking to anyone from Farlight there’s only one general. Indigo Jaxx, newly created duke of that city.

‘From his son, sir.’

My parcel is the size of a small bomb. Seeing me scowl, Debro takes the envelope from my fingers.

‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘I can read.’

She looks slightly surprised. ‘So what . . .?’

Then she gets it. Raising her eyebrows, she passes the envelope to Anton, who nods approvingly.

‘Clever,’ he says.

The address looks odd because Vijay uses a machine that strikes one letter after another onto the label.

‘No trail,’ Debro says. ‘No electronic traces.’

Anton nods. After a second, it occurs to me he’s asking about the note inside. So I hand him Colonel Vijay’s message.

‘Want to take a guess who’d like you dead?’

I shrug. ‘Could be the Enlightened. I killed one of their generals, and blew up his mother ship. Could be the U/Free. Ms Osamu didn’t like how things worked out between us. And then, of course . . .’

Shouldn’t be saying this.

Not sure I care.

‘. . . there’s always Jaxx. Less public to have me murdered than fix a court martial or send me somewhere dangerous.’

Debro’s laugh sounds strained.

‘Only you could have all three sides wanting to kill you at once.’

All three . . . I run that again. Never thought of the U/Free as a side before. They’re the observers. Strictly neutral. God knows, they tell us often enough.

‘Sven? You OK?’

‘Neurons firing,’ the SIG tells Aptitude. ‘Blood vessels tightening. He’s thinking. Can’t you tell?’

My parcel is wrapped with tamper tape and sealed. It has a military frank mark, but no return address and feels heavy enough to contain a fistful of shrapnel if that is what someone has in mind. ‘Just taking this outside.’

Anton has the sense to nod.

No trigger and no shrapnel wrapped round an explosive core. The SIG told me it was safe. All the same . . .

One end has a black glass cap. The other a quick-release carabiner clasp. So it can be clipped to a belt. Pointing the cap at a bush, I push what looks like a trigger button. Nothing happens.

So I push again.

When that doesn’t work, I decide Vijay’s present is broken. I’m heading back to the roof terrace when the handle suddenly drags, and then comes free. A smoking gash scars the stair wall behind me.

A prod at the wall creates a smouldering hole. I make another before deciding Debro won’t thank me for messing with her plaster. But the temptation is strong, and the wooden rail looks old and in need of replacing anyway.

My first blow severs it. My second sends a section clattering down the stairs.

There are three controls on the sabre’s handle.

A silver button turns the blade on. A wheel adjusts for colour and visibility. A smaller wheel below that produces a low humming.

‘You’re grinning,’ Anton says.

Yeah, quite possibly. I have a laser dagger that’s saved my life. But this, I didn’t even know laser blades this big existed. If I’d had one when I met the ferox I’d probably still have both arms.

Anton sees the handle hanging from my belt.

As if by telepathy, Debro looks where he’s looking. Her face drops. ‘That’s your present from Vijay?’

‘Smart, isn’t it?’

‘You realize it’s illegal?’

My grin must widen, because she sighs.

Neither Debro nor Anton is paying attention to Aptitude. She’s standing at the edge of the terrace, blushing deeply, rereading a letter in her hand for what is obviously the fifth or sixth time.

‘Printed on that machine?’ I ask Anton.

‘The envelope certainly was.’

Could be Colonel Vijay’s careful by nature. Could be his father’s spies intercept his messages. General Jaxx is capable of that. There’s another option, of course. The Colonel’s trying to avoid the attention of our glorious leader.

OctoV, the glorious and undefeated.

Makes me wonder why.

That thought vanishes when knocking begins at the front door. Someone wants our attention. Wants it badly, by the sound of it. Anton and I are halfway down the stairs when the knocking is replaced by the sound of a sledgehammer.