David Gunn - Day of the Damned

‘If you will go first, sir . . .’

Nodding to the sergeant, Colonel Vijay climbs the steps. He stands aside to let General Luc climb after him. Sergeant Toro follows, and Colonel Vijay steadies him when he stumbles under the weight of that sword. Next to me, Major Whipple grunts approvingly.

In my pocket I have the planet buster.

Its lid is raised and its priming ring already turned. All I have to do is push the button and this is over. Everyone dies. But that is not a long game, so there has to be a better answer.

A warm wind blows into Colonel Vijay’s face and tugs at the edge of his white shirt. The shirt is clean, the colonel’s hair still wet and he’s been allowed to shave. Only the hollowness around his eyes suggests last night’s sleep was fake.

‘Ready when you are,’ he says.

The Wolf scowls. As we watch, he tests the sword’s balance.

And then, standing firm, his shoulders twisted and his boots glued to the boards, General Luc draws back the blade to take Colonel Vijay’s head from his shoulders.

‘Ready for death?’

Colonel Vijay smiles. ‘I’m a Jaxx,’ he says. ‘An officer in the Death’s Head. What do you think?’

General Luc sighs.

‘I think you’re a fucking little idiot. And every bit as insane as your father. What do I think . . .?’ He grounds the sword. ‘I think this world’s gone to hell in a handcart and you two deserve each other.’

We have the long game.

Things change swiftly after that.

‘I release you from your parole,’ the Wolf tells Colonel Vijay. ‘You can take your chances here or try to break through those.’ He nods towards the falling chutes, then turns to where Aptitude sits, and says, ‘I renounce my claim on his life. You too may stay here, or go . . .’

‘She’s staying. They’re both staying.’

All three turn to look at me.

Of course they are. There’s a war going on out there and I’m not about to lose my major players at this point. General Luc’s halfway down the steps when I block his way.

‘Sven,’ Colonel Vijay says. ‘No.’

‘I want my gun back.’

The Wolf shows yellow teeth. It’s a grin, of sorts.

He tells me it’s an illegal piece of shit, ideally suited for scum like me. Then he orders Sergeant Toro to make sure the Aux are freed and our weapons returned to us.

‘Anything else?’ he asks me.

‘Yes, sir,’ I say. ‘We need to talk.’

His nod takes in the men scattering to their positions. ‘It can wait.’

As Aptitude scrabbles past, I grab her. She fights until she realizes who it is and stops, puzzled.

‘Listen,’ I say, pulling her close. ‘I told Vijay you refused General Luc’s offer. It’s what he expected,’ I add, hearing her gasp. ‘He was proud of you.’

‘So he didn’t refuse to let me . . .’

Shit, I hadn’t thought that through at all.

When her gaze flicks over my shoulder, I know who stands there.

Orders might stream from General Luc: belt-feds to be manned, pulse rifles to be broken out and mortars positioned, more anti-aircraft missiles brought from the armoury, but he still watches as Aptitude flings her arms around Colonel Vijay, and buries her face in his shoulder.

Say you rejected Luc’s offer.

I have to mouth it twice before he understands.

The colonel’s nod is slight, and then he’s stroking Aptitude’s hair and whispering things men should only say to women in the darkness of a locked room at night. Except it doesn’t matter and, strangely, I need the Wolf Brigade to see this.

Vijay Jaxx and Aptitude Wildeside.

It’s going to be a long hard fight and a good myth is worth a dozen battalions. A good prophecy is worth ten times that. Get us to believe luck’s your whore and the next battle is half won. Alternatively, this is where we d ie.

The choice is General Luc’s. He just doesn’t know that yet.

‘Sir,’ says Neen. ‘They’ve got tanks.’

‘How the fuck-’

‘Slung under triple-rotor copters, ready manned.’

Shil stands behind him, her eyes on Aptitude. Rachel, however, has eyes only for her rifle. She’s running her fingers down its stock, like she just remembered she wanted to take it to bed. Ajac is keen but unfocused and Iona simply scared.

‘Go sew people up,’ I tell her.

She disappears.

To Rachel, I say, ‘Up on the battlements. Kill the officers first.’ She doesn’t need telling, but saying it gives me a warm feeling inside every time.

Neen gets to look after Debro.

‘Keep her safe.’

He salutes, dips into his jacket and pulls out a small automatic. ‘Ma’am. Do you know how to use one of these?’

Taking the Colt, Debro unlocks it, jacks a round into its breech and returns it to safety, before tucking the side arm into her belt. She should have dropped the clip and counted her rounds, but it’s still impressive.

She’s certainly impressed him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I didn’t get your name?’

‘Neen,’ he replies. ‘Sergeant Neen. This is my sister Shil.’

‘Senator Wildeside,’ Shil says.

‘Debro, please.’

It’s a strange meeting, two ex-militia grunts and the head of one of Farlight’s greatest trading families, but no stranger than my first meeting with Debro on a prison shuttle. And we live in a strange galaxy that gets stranger by the day.

Neen leads Debro towards an arch.

He asks something of a Wolf Brigade lieutenant who looks in surprise at Debro, then shrugs and nods to battlements above. The next I see of them, Debro’s added a pulse rifle to her weapons collection and Neen is showing her how to work the pre-charge lever.

‘The mother he never had,’ Shil says bitterly.

‘Thought that was you?’

Tears fill her eyes and I grip her shoulders until the crying is done. It takes three sobs, two breaths and an angry shake of her head before she’s pushing me away. ‘And I still fucking hate you,’ she says.

‘That’s, hate you, sir.’

I take the SIG from Sergeant Toro, whose eyes widen when it purrs obscenely and shivers in my grip.

‘Ignore it,’ I say.

‘That’s not kind,’ the SIG says. It scans what’s going on beyond the walls and burns a third of a battery pack as it works the odds. ‘Particularly,’ it adds, ‘as you’ll all be needing me to save your lives later.’

‘That bad?’

‘Been in worse.’

‘What happened?’ Aptitude asks it.

‘I survived,’ the SIG says cheerfully. ‘Your grandfather didn’t.’

Sergeant Toro tells the colonel that General Luc is on the H-pad, then hesitates on the edge of saying something else and says it anyway. ‘You’ll find he’s otherwise engaged, sir . . .’

Standing right in the middle of the tower, his feet apart and his hands on his hips, General Luc barks out orders, in between scanning the sky and the valley with field-glasses. And, in between barking orders and scanning the sky, he grins. The Wolf was born for this.

‘Sir,’ I say.

‘I’m busy.’ He barely glances in my direction.

‘Won’t make any difference.’

Lowering his binoculars, he says, ‘Didn’t take you for a defeatist.’

‘Didn’t take you for someone to throw his brigade away.’

Snow-blasted grey eyes look at me and it’s like staring into a cold wind as it scrapes over the ice sheet of some prison planet. I have no real idea how old the general is or what he has seen. I don’t doubt this man has eaten human flesh.

So have I.

At least, I think she was human.

Birth separates us. Money separates us. Rank, power, privilege . . . But right now those things don’t matter. In the things that do, we’re alike. As he nods, I know he’s coming to realize that.