War Machine (The Combat-K Series) (31 page)

“I’m not in the mood for your fuckinggames,” she said finally, and stalked away. Keenan sighed, stubbed out his cigarette, and immediately lit another. Food could wait, but his fix had to be fulfilled.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and snuggled further down into his sleeping bag.

Two hours later, Keenan sat studying the TuffMAP
^TM
of Ket. Cam floated beside him, strangely silent, a single white light blinking. Keenan had traced their route, and looked at the markings furnished by Fortune. They were heading to Amrasar, one of the five capital cities on the planet; it was huge, sprawling, heavily fortified, and according to Fortune, did not welcome strangers, at all.

“It will have to be a covert entry,” said Cam.

Smoke streamed from the roll-up in Keenan’s fingers. He nodded. “Yeah, I know. We could do with an insider, somebody who knows the place.”

“What about the children?”

“No, I couldn’t drag them back. They’ve had enough of a rough time as it is. It wouldn’t be fair, especially when considering the nature of our mission—that of theft.”

“Klik said he came from Amrasar. He will know the land.”

“Maybe I’ll talk to him,” said Keenan, smoking.

“I would recommend it,” said Cam. The small PopBot started to spin faster. Keenan nodded.

“It’s been a hectic ride, hasn’t it little pal?”

“You could say that, Keenan.”

“So what’s it like for a GradeA Security Mechanism with advanced SynthAI and an MIR of 3150 to actually
go
on an adventure? Is it everything you hoped for? Is it... shall we say, exciting enough to alleviate the boredom you felt back on Galhari?”

“Let’s just say the ride has been far from dull.”

“Have you forgiven Franco? For the right hook?”

“He told you about that, did he?”

“Yeah,” grinned Keenan. “Look, you know it wasn’t personal, don’t you? I should have known nothing could stand between Franco, a pint of Guinness and a one-legged whore.”

Cam seemed to sigh. He stopped spinning and just hung, immobile. “It’s just,” said the little machine, “it is a little degrading to be thumped and then volleyed like the main attraction at a penalty shootout. It’s not something I anticipated; not something I appreciate.”

“He has been locked up for a while, Cam. I can kind of appreciate his need.”

“Listen Keenan, it is my opinion that Franco is a serious threat to this mission. He is unpredictable, unfeasibly cheerful, and quite obviously utterly mad.”

“Ye-es, but he’s a good bloke to have beside you in a fire-fight. He looks after his friends, and where it counts he’s as good as ten men. He is also a demolitions expert, and I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need that skill to get to the Fractured Emerald.”

“It’s in a vault?”

“Oh yes,” said Keenan, “a mile beneath the surface of the city.”

“That’s a long way down. Also, while we’re on the subject, I think Pippa is a serious threat to this mission.”

“You’re in a fine mood, aren’t you little Cam?”

“I am your Security PopBot. My mission is to protect you
.
I cannot control you, but I can certainly advise you. Pippa is, in a different manner to Franco, unstable. I think deep down she truly does hate you. I think your little invitation to the sleeping bag was a bad move; you have set a timer ticking inside her head, ignited a bomb fuse. Before long, Keenan, she will explode.”

“You heard that, did you?”

“I hear a lot of things,” said the PopBot smugly.

“Yeah, I acknowledge it was probably a mistake. Maybe I’m just a little bit lonely. Maybe I thought... I don’t know. Maybe I thought my charm would win through, pierce her armour; you know what I mean?”

“It would take more than armour-piercing bullets to pierce her armour,” said Cam. “Like, maybe a tank shell?”

“Wouldn’t that obliterate her from existence?”

“Exactly,” said Cam. There was a smile in his voice. “Somebody’s coming.”

Pippa emerged, a frown creasing her forehead, her cold eyes locking on Cam.

“I’ll go and check on the children,” said Cam, and left.

Keenan glanced up from the TuffMAP
^TM
. “How’s the loading going?”

“Fine, except all Franco wants to take is tinned PreCheese and bloody CubeSausage!”

“Why?”

“Says it’s the best food a soldier can eat.”

“What about dietary diversity?”

Pippa held up her hands. “Hey, you invited him, you can sort the little bastard out. All I know is, for the next month we’re living off tinned cheese. Keenan, it’s like chewing rubber. And the CubeSausage! Jesus, it’s even worse, like swallowing a slab of pure gristle. Yum!”

“Tell Franco we need HighJ, and lots of it.”

“We’re doing some demolition work?”

Keenan nodded. “I think we might have to blow our way into the vault. This Fractured Emerald is still their prized possession, despite being unheard of across the Quad-Gal. They’re not going to have it on display in the main hall, are they?”

“Klik wants to speak to you, and... Rebekka.”

“OK.”

Pippa’s gaze lingered on his, and he felt uneasy, squirming a little in the tight-fitting WarSuit.

“Can I ask you something, Keenan?”

“Sure.”

“And you’ll be honest?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“All the time.”

“Shit, yeah, well I promise you this time. I’ll tell the truth.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“Who?”

“Rebekka, you dumb-ass.”

Keenan considered this, eyes locked on hers. Then he gave a little shake of his head. “No, Pippa. I didn’t. I swear it, on all that’s holy.”

“I was convinced—”

“I’m not saying she isn’t attractive. And maybe, in a different time, a different world, who knows? We might have hit it off, but I believe the proxers are not able to make emotional attachments to humans, or other proxers for that matter. So it would have been purely sex, without any ties. That’s not me, Pippa.” He gave her a wry smile. “I’m an honourable man.”

Klik arrived at that moment, with Rebekka floating in behind him. The black boy had changed since Keenan last set eyes on him. His face was more alive
,
there was hope in his eyes, not the dull disease of defeat. He sat down beside Keenan, placed a hand on his, and looked up into the man’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, simply.

“It was no big deal,” said Keenan.

“But it was, Big Man. You saved us, saved all our lives. Now I am bound by Ket-i honour codes to give my life for you. I am yours to command. I am yours. I will kill for you, and I will die for you. You have saved my family. You have saved my soul.”

Keenan squirmed uncomfortably as Pippa moved away, presumably to discipline Franco, who was getting carried away loading enough food to feed an army
.

Rebekka sat down facing Keenan. She had a strange look on her face, illuminated internally by an almost ethereal light.

“I know this place,” said Klik, staring at the map. “You aliens call it Amrasar; to us it is just The City of Bone.”

“Interesting name,” said Keenan. “Why do you call it that?”

“You will know when you see it! We call it The World Warrior. When he died, he settled into the Milk Sea and his flesh fell from his bones leaving them risen, like an island, exposed. On his back we built the city. When the Ket-i are threatened it is said he will rise again and grow a new coat of flesh. Then he will rain terror and molten fire on our enemies destroying them utterly.”

“So the city is built on... bone?”

“The whole city,” said Klik, settling down and making himself comfortable. “You seek to go there?”

“Yes.”

“You need me.”

“No.”

“Yes, I owe you everything, Keenan. I will take you there. Without me you will never make it alive through the eelmarsh.” Klik shivered. “Even with me we have only a slim chance. I have travelled it three times and survived. This is considered lucky.”

“Can we take a boat through this eelmarsh?”

“No. The World Warrior’s bones are too much in the way. Many thousands of little bones, they form the walkways through eelmarsh. The only safe traverse is by air, but we have no aircraft.”

“No.” Keenan’s face darkened. “We were shot down.”

“I can take you,” beamed Klik. “It is my pleasure, my honour. The least I can do. And Rebekka will stay here and look after my friends.” Klik patted Keenan’s hand. “It is the way, my friend.”

Keenan laughed, infused by the young boy’s charm and enthusiasm. His eyes strayed to Rebekka. “You are staying?”

“Yes. I think where you’re going is perhaps too dangerous. I used to run guns in The City, but I was surrounded by my family. Now they are dead. I think I will stay here a while; these children have touched me.”

“I thought you proxers had no emotions?”

Anger flared in Rebekka’s face. “No,” she said, her voice ice, “that is a misconception coined by you humans during the First Prox War; you sought to dehumanise us, making it easier for your soldiers to kill us in our beds. We have emotions, but not as you understand them. We do feel love, and hate, and compassion, and empathy.”

“I am sorry,” said Keenan. “I did not mean to offend.”

“Then do your research before offering insult. Your ignorance is awesome. But then, it is so with all humanity, even against your own species. I have read your history, Keenan. Never in the annals of any inter-galactic species have I experienced such fighting and despicable acts of atrocity committed against one’s own kind. Your animosity, apparent self-loathing and acts of genocide are legendary throughout Quad-Gal.” Her eyes were filled with tears. “Your Humanity—truly, it is something to be feared.”

Keenan, feeling cold and dead inside, simply nodded.

“It is right I should stay here,” said Rebekka. “These children need a mother.”

“Your choice is honourable, then,” said Keenan.

“Yes.” Rebekka lightened. “I am sorry. I have been a victim of human prejudice before. It does not sit well with me; shall we say humanity’s arrogance and abuse have hurt me deeply.”

“Again, my apologies.” Keenan stood, and with emotions raging inside him—including a burning shame at what his species had perpetrated in the name of war—he left the room.

She’s right
, he thought as he mounted the ramp.
Humanity is filled with decadence.

Despondency fell over him like a shroud.

Darkness filled his soul.

And, sadly, filled him with a desire to kill.

Franco hummed a little tune from the hit musical
My Mamma’s a Whore
as he loaded up the second WarMonger inflatable infiltration craft. He’d used an industrial inflation pump to get both boats full of air, then moored them at the jetty from which Betezh had stolen their Raptor. The first craft he’d loaded with weapons, and the second, larger craft, intended as a supply vehicle, he’d happily filled with crates of tinned PreCheese and CubeSausage. As a treat, he’d even loaded a single crate filled with jars of horseradish.

“What a feast!”he mumbled to himself, MPK slung over his back, open-toe sandals flapping across the rusting metal grilleworks. He hoisted the final crate onto the bobbing craft, jumped aboard, and manoeuvred it into position. “CubeSausage and horseradish! A meal fit for a prince!”

Happily, he surveyed the collection of stolen military food. Then he rubbed at his beard with a scratching sound of abrasive wire.
Hmm
, he thought,
I’m sure I’ve forgotten something
.

Pippa jogged down the ramp and stared with undisguised loathing at the collection of crates. “Franco, what about the Dogs? Remember? We’re supposed to be dumping them in the sea? Unless you’d like to leave them on the Rig with the kids. After all, maybe they’ll unfreeze.”

“Hot goddam,” said Franco, slapping his forehead. “You’re right.” Then he stared at the crates. “Shit,” he said. “Something’s going to have to go.”

“Franco, how long do you actually think we’re going to be on this planet? It’s two days to Amrasar. Each crate contains a hundred and ninety tins. And you’ve loaded...” she counted, frowning, “ten crates. Mate, that’s nearly two thousand fuckingtins. Franco, you could feed a battalion.”

“Wouldn’t want us to go hungry,” he mumbled, kicking his sandal against the hard rubberised surface of the boat. “Nothing worse than being hungry. I was hungry as a lad, you know.”

“But Franco, this lot would keep us going for about five years.”

“You should always plan ahead.”

“And what’s this? Horseradish? Fucking
horseradish?
That’ll come in handy when we’re starving to death! A hundred and ninety jars of horseradish, yum fucking yum.”

“You’re being unreasonable, Pippa!” His voice was almost a wail.