David Gunn - Day of the Damned

‘Sir . . .’ Major Whipple hands the colonel his field-glasses.

Scanning the horizon, Colonel Nswor nods when he finds what he’s looking for. Everyone else has to wait until the copter comes into sight. It’s sleek and grey and flying so low it raises dust as it skims the dirt.

It is bigger than it first looks.

There’s a lazy thud to its rotor that speaks of untapped power. Twin cannon hang both sides of its nose, and the flight window is a narrow wrap tinted the same grey as the sides.

‘The general’s own,’ the ADC whispers.

I could have guessed that for myself.

Only General Luc’s not aboard, because he’s down below inspecting his engineers’ handiwork. Having climbed onto the viewing platform, he seats himself in one of the two chairs. Then he stands and nods to Sergeant Toro. It seems the view is everything he wanted.

‘Prepare to receive our guests,’ the colonel snaps.

An NCO shouts orders and the honour guard comes to attention.

Banking as it reaches the mountain, the copter starts a twisting approach that tracks the spiral road towards the gates, hugging the rock as it goes. Impossible to tell if the pilots are AI or human, but they’ve obviously done this before.

Maybe the flight path is tradition.

Most of the pointless things you find are.

As the copter skims the road, a rocket launcher starts tracking its movement. So maybe there is a logic to that approach pattern after all. Like a dung-fly dance, get it wrong and you get eaten.

‘Present arms . . .’

The cockpit membrane slides back and slabs of chitin shift as the craft settles and its wheels touch the deck. The first person out is Debro, the second is her daughter. The guard behind them holds a pulse rifle, sloping down.

‘Sven,’ Debro says.

We air-kiss. Then Debro grabs me and hugs me tight.

‘Why isn’t General Luc here?’ she hisses. ‘Surely he has the manners to meet his bride?’

‘He’s busy inspecting the scaffold.’

It takes her a second to understand my words.

Now, I’ve seen Debro angry and I’ve seen her outraged. I’ve seen her stark naked, standing in steely silence, while a guard cavity-searches her. The only emotion she showed then was to shiver at the icy wind that blew through our underground corridor. Didn’t think Debro did shock.

‘Who for?’

‘One for Vijay. Another to seat the audience.’

‘How could he?’ she hisses. ‘After Aptitude agreed.’

Debro glances back at her daughter, who wears a simple white dress, and complicated braids. Apt’s losing her battle with tears.

Behind me, Colonel Nswor and his men remain at attention. Only the trooper manning the belt-fed has the honesty to stare.

‘Vijay refused Aptitude’s offer.’

Debro’s mouth drops open. ‘What?’

‘He denies her right to sacrifice herself.’

She doesn’t challenge my statement. In fact, Debro accepts it without question, turning away to wrap one arm round Aptitude’s shoulders. Mother and daughter stand side by side, then face to face, their foreheads touching.

Seeing them like that makes me want to kill someone. Their escort must read that in my face, because he grips his rifle tighter. We stare for the second it takes me to remember him for later. And then he steps around me to present himself to Colonel Nswor.

‘Reporting with your prisoners, sir.’

‘Prisoners?’ Stepping forward, the Wolf Brigade officer backhands him so hard the man goes down. ‘They’re guests,’ he says furiously.

Seven hundred pairs of boots stamp courtyard dirt as the entire brigade comes to attention. Their chief warrant officer salutes a captain, who turns on his heels and marches to where Colonel Nswor stands.

The WO salutes the colonel, who about turns and presents himself to General Luc, who accepts his salute with hurried elegance.

If they weren’t my enemies I’d be impressed.

Not a word passes between the Wolf and his guests. His bow, which is slight, is met with the briefest of nods.

‘If you will, Lady Aptitude,’ says the little ADC, offering his arm to help her up the steps, but she ignores him entirely, still fighting back tears. Everyone waits for Aptitude to move, even Debro, who steps forward.

I’m already there.

Apt takes my hand.

Helping Debro up next, I step back for Colonel Nswor, and then let Major Whipple follow, but the Major is watching the sky. Dark grey eyes and a hard face and something close to regret. He’s impressed by Aptitude, which doesn’t surprise me because I’ve never met anyone yet who wasn’t. And he’s impressed by Debro, because she’s Senator Debro Tezuka Wildeside, and Debro impresses everyone.

He’s even impressed by us, the Aux.

But he wants this over.

And when General Luc follows his major’s gaze, the answer hits me. They’re expecting an attack. That’s what those mortars and rockets and belt-feds are about. Dragging his attention from the sky, General Luc nods to Sergeant Toro. ‘Housekeeping first,’ he says. ‘We can deal with the Thomassi afterwards.’

Colonel Vijay enters the courtyard alone.

If he’s seen Aptitude he doesn’t let on. He must have seen her, you can hardly miss a sobbing girl in a white dress. Debro sits beside her, one hand lightly on her daughter’s wrist to steady her.

‘Any last words?’ General Luc demands.

Colonel Vijay shakes his head.

‘None at all? No pleas for mercy, requests to be remembered, fond words for your ex-beloved?’ The Wolf looks at Aptitude, who sits as if cut from stone. Except no statue ever cried, whatever wise women and fools say.

Colonel Vijay opens his mouth to answer.

Then shuts it again.

His eyes, which watch General Luc, flick to the sky. And we hear what he hears, a low buzz in the distance, like mechanical wasps.

‘Too late to save you,’ the Wolf says. ‘Not that they’d bother.’ He shrugs. ‘You should thank me for saving you from a Thomassi show trial.’

On cue, Sergeant Toro steps from under an arch carrying a sword as long as he is tall over his shoulder. It is double-handed, with a heavy hilt, and weighs enough to make him stoop on one side.

Aptitude whimpers.

But Debro is looking at the sky, which is now dotted with a hundred tiny black specks getting closer, with more specks behind.

‘Last chance,’ says the Wolf.

‘For what?’ Colonel Vijay demands.

These are the first words he’s spoken since he walked from under that arch. And they’re calm, almost reasonable. He knows Aptitude is here, all right.

‘To plead,’ Luc says. ‘Surely you want your life?’

‘Not at any price.’

At a touch from Debro’s hand, Aptitude stifles her sobs, and her swallowed gasps sound worse still, like a child drowning in misery. Only Aptitude is not a child, she’s a major piece in a game so messy the only person to understand it is dead.

Take ground, keep ground.

Keep taking ground until you can take no more.

Die rather than let the ground you’ve taken be taken back.

There is nothing in those rules you’ll find hard to understand. At twelve I understood them perfectly. Every one of the Aux understands them perfectly now. I’m just having trouble making them fit what’s happening around me.

‘Steiner 3 Combat copters,’ Major Whipple mutters.

Not sure if he’s talking to me, his colonel or himself.

Mixed in with the copters are gliders. And worse than that, the gliders are spilling white globs like drops of milk. Each dot a parachute.

Up on the battlements, a rocket launcher opens fire and shuts down just as fast. The Wolf refuses to let what is happening beyond his walls interfere with what is happening inside.