Web of Fire Bind-up (53 page)

‘Blizzards?' said Brindle dismissively, a small pool of
melting snow forming around his boots. ‘Couple of flurries maybe. Nothing to write home about.'

Firebrand, who had now resumed overall command of operations, stared doubtfully at Brindle's soaking wet clothes and glacier-blue face.

‘Maybe you should go and warm up, get yourself something to eat,' he suggested.

‘Maybe later, sir. First I would like to acquaint myself with the current situation if that's all right, sir. And may I also say, sir, that is good to see you again.'

Firebrand smiled. ‘Likewise, Sergeant. Likewise.'

Sam couldn't help but be impressed. He had last seen Brindle bailing out of his wasp into a frozen wilderness. Now here he was several weeks later, having trekked several hundred miles in sub-zero temperatures, refusing all offers of comfort in his impatience to get on with the next phase of the operation. Sam was reminded of an experiment he had once carried out in science where you had to sort materials in order of their hardness. Chalk, sandstone, granite, diamond… Brindle.

He would have topped the list every time.

They took their seats in the small Operations Meeting Room and Firebrand stood up at the front to address them. Although he looked older and thinner than he had done during the last campaign, there was no doubt that the Commander had got his old fire back again. Sam could see it in his eyes; the passion and determination were clear for all to see as he paced the room, listening intently to Alya's report on the latest developments in Vermia.

‘Tell us about these worms,' he said, ‘how do they kill people on Earth?'

‘They don't,' said Alya. ‘Not directly, anyway. The plan is, the worms – or
flukes
to be completely accurate – will affect the behaviour of certain people in such a way that they will then kill everyone themselves.'

‘I don't understand,' said Firebrand, impatient to find out what he was dealing with. ‘Explain?'

‘Well, research revealed that a certain species of parasitic worm –
toxoplasma gondii
– was infecting millions of people on Earth as part of a natural cycle that already existed. It was able to affect people's behaviour by finding its way into their brains and influencing their thought patterns. Then I noticed that worms and humans had the same impulse translators.'

Firebrand frowned. ‘They had what?'

‘The impulse translator. It's a tiny piece of neurological material that allows a worm to transfer its own desires to the brain of its host. It's a bit like downloading a program into a computer. Once it's in there, the computer can do different things. Same thing with people. All we had to do was write a program compatible with the worm's neurological structure and then the worm would go off and “download” it into whoever we chose. And then, effectively, we could make people do whatever we wanted them to do.'

‘And it works?' asked Firebrand incredulously.

‘Oh, it works all right,' said Alya. ‘And that's the reason we haven't got much time.'

‘But how does Odoursin plan to infect every single human with these worms?' interrupted Skipper. ‘Surely that's impossible, isn't it?'

‘Ah, but he doesn't need to,' explained Alya. ‘If you target the right people, then you can just stand back and let them do the rest. And that's exactly what the Vermian Strategic Command are doing.'

Firebrand was looking more and more worried by the minute. ‘So who exactly are they targeting?'

‘Defence staff working at nuclear weapon sites across the United States,' said Alya. ‘Plus key personnel in the command and control structure. The plan is to use parasites to trick these personnel into believing that they are under attack from nuclear weapons. They will believe that the only course of action left open to them is to launch a massive retaliatory strike against the countries responsible. Which, in turn, will trigger a huge nuclear response from
those
countries. Billions of people will die, and those who survive will have little fight left in them. Stage two of Odoursin's plan is then to effectively enslave survivors by gradually and methodically infecting them with more parasites. These parasites will be programmed to create various other desires in people – desires which will be useful to the Vermian regime.'

‘What sort of desires?' asked Sam.

‘Oh I don't know – decontaminating areas hit by nuclear weapons, cleaning up other sources of pollution on the planet, that sort of thing. But ultimately, people will be programmed to hunt each other down. It's horrific
when you think about it. Odoursin intends to use any survivors first as slaves, and then as executioners.'

‘How are they getting these programmed parasites into humans?' asked Skipper.

‘InRaD came up with the tsetse fly as a solution,' explained Alya. ‘They'd already been working on a prototype which was fast, manoeuvrable and already equipped to carry similar parasites.'

‘Why didn't they use mosquitoes again?' Sam asked.

‘Not compatible with these particular parasites,' replied Alya. ‘Same with horseflies. Whereas the tsetse fly was ready almost straight out of the crate. It only needed minimal re-engineering to its salivary glands and then it was good to go.'

‘All right,' said Firebrand. ‘Like you say, we haven't got much time. My guess is that Odoursin will already be planning a retaliatory strike against us, so I've got a squadron of hornets on standby, ready to intercept it when it comes. In the meantime I suggest we mobilise another full squadron as soon as possible, attack the hangars where the tsetse flies are kept and then take out the parasite labs. Can you draw up a plan for us, Alya?'

Alya shook her head. ‘I'm afraid it's too late for that,' she said. ‘Tsetse flies started hitting their targets weeks ago. Chances are they'll all be infected by now. The parasites will have been programmed to lie dormant in the brains of their hosts until the next cycle of the moon. The change in biorhythms will then trigger them all into action at the same time. They will start transferring their
thought patterns into their human hosts and that will be all it takes to start a nuclear war.'

Firebrand looked at her in horror.

‘But the next cycle of the moon is tomorrow night!' he cried. ‘Surely there must be something we can do?'

Alya nodded. ‘There is, but it's a bit of a long shot.'

‘Let's hear it,' said Firebrand.

‘OK,' said Alya. ‘The thing is, there's a set procedure that has to be followed before any weapons can be launched. Understandably, the possibility of some nutcase deciding to crack off a few nuclear bombs is one that governments are fairly keen to avoid.'

‘Understandably,' said Skipper. ‘Sorry, go on.'

‘So the procedure goes something like this: a defence system identifies a threat, the threat is checked with other defence systems and, if it is confirmed, then the nuclear weapons facilities are put on red alert. In other words, they start preparing for a retaliatory strike. But they can't carry out any strike until it has been authorised by their Commander-in-Chief, the President of the United States.

‘Now I happen to know that they've been having big problems infecting the President. The guy wears thick suits, hates insects and has bug screens on all his windows. He's the only one with the launch codes, and if they don't infect him then there's no nuclear war. If we can fly a bunch of hornets there soon enough, we might have a chance of taking out the tsetses before they can get to him. Like I said, it's a long shot, but it's all we've got.'

‘I'm in,' said Skipper, ‘definitely.'

She thought for a moment and then said, ‘But what if they've already infected him? What then?'

Alya stared at the floor and then shut her eyes, as if the enormity of what she had helped to cause was too much for her to bear.

‘Odoursin will have won,' she said at last, ‘and it will be the end of everything.'

It was five in the morning and Martock could sense the tension among the assembled Council members as they stood around the long, rectangular table, awaiting Odoursin's arrival. They all knew that, in the years since his accident, Odoursin had found it difficult to sleep due to the pain from his burns. It was likely, therefore, that his personal physician would have given him a sleeping draught only hours before.

Given his increasing unpredictability, waking him was certainly not a decision to be taken lightly. On this occasion, however, the Council had come to the conclusion that it could not be avoided.

The news, it seemed, was spectacularly bad.

An attempt to destroy the Vahlzian Resistance base had ended in complete disaster, with two squadrons of robber flies wiped out and enemy hornets now controlling the skies over Vahlzi.

Reports were coming in that organised groups of
Resistance fighters had already overrun several positions on the eastern side of the city.

It didn't take a genius to work out that unless Odoursin gave his permission to postpone the attack on Earth and divert all forces back to the west, there was a very real danger that Vahlzi would be retaken by enemy forces.

And if that happened, Vermia would be next on their list.

But would Odoursin listen? Martock knew that he was obsessed with the destruction of human life on Earth, and anything that stood in the way of that was unlikely to go down well. Add to this the fact that Odoursin would have had very little sleep, and the prospect of a positive meeting was not looking good.

A hush fell upon the Council as the door of the bunker swung open and Odoursin strode to the head of the table, fury simmering just beneath the surface of his blanched, twisted features. As his eyes narrowed into fiery slits of rage, he stared around the room and hissed, ‘Who is responsible for waking me at this hour?'

When it became obvious that no one was going to answer, Martock cleared his throat and said, ‘I am sorry, Your Excellency. But the Council felt that you should be informed of the latest developments.'

‘I see,' said Odoursin icily, ‘so you are saying that everyone is to blame.' He glared angrily at Martock until he dropped his gaze and then said, ‘Well? What is this important news that could not wait?'

Realising that by breaking the silence he had unwittingly elected himself as spokesman, Martock swallowed nervously and turned to address the Emperor once more.

‘The attack on the Resistance base has ended in failure, Your Excellency,' he said. ‘The enemy has developed a new insect – a giant hornet – which is far superior to our robber flies. A squadron of them was used against us in the attack on the enemy base and these hornets now control much of the airspace around Vahlzi.'

Odoursin made no immediate reply, but Martock could see the anger building in his eyes as he digested this piece of news. After a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence, Odoursin's gaze alighted on Field Marshal Stanzun.

‘So Field Marshal,' he said coldly, ‘are we to put this down to your incompetence?'

Martock saw Stanzun blink twice as all attention in the room was suddenly focused upon him. But Stanzun was a brave man who was used to staying calm in a crisis, and when he spoke his voice betrayed no obvious signs of nervousness.

‘It would have been impossible for us to predict such a turn of events, Your Excellency,' he replied. ‘If our sources are to be believed, then the enemy's discovery of this rare insect was purely accidental – it was just bad luck on our part.'

‘There is no such thing as luck!' spat Odoursin angrily. ‘Only poor planning and preparation!'

At this point, Lieutenant Reisner – Leader of the Ant Squadrons – raised his hand and began to speak. Most of the Council were unable to hide their surprise, knowing it to be an unwritten law that junior members of the Council do not address the Emperor unless invited to do so. But a brief conversation with the young officer before the meeting had led Martock to expect the interruption, even though he had tried to dissuade him from it.

‘Forgive me, Your Excellency,' said Reisner, ‘but I think it would be prudent for us to pull all our resources back from Earth immediately. That way we can hit Vahlzi with everything we've got before they have the time to consolidate their positions.'

Odoursin slowly turned his head to face the young officer.

‘Really? Is that what you think?'

‘Yes,' said Reisner. ‘I think, quite frankly, that anything else would be madness.'

‘I see,' said Odoursin. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant, it is always important to speak one's mind on such matters.'

Martock saw Reisner smile nervously and felt sad at the young man's innocence.

‘Come here, Lieutenant.'

Reisner looked at Odoursin quizzically.

‘Come here,' Odoursin repeated, ‘I have something for you.'

Reisner left his place at the table and walked slowly towards Odoursin. If he suspected anything, he didn't show it.

Odoursin smiled.

‘Shut your eyes,' he said.

Martock turned away just as the sound of the gunshot split the air, echoing loudly around the chamber. When he looked back, Reisner lay untidily against the wall. His eyes had fallen open one last time and in death they displayed a look of utter surprise.

Odoursin calmly replaced the pistol in his holster and stared defiantly around the room.

‘Tell me,' he said, ‘does anyone else want to make a suggestion?'

As evening fell, Martock stood at the edge of the airfield and watched the pilots sprint eagerly across the tarmac toward their waiting insects. Odoursin's view had prevailed as he had guessed it would, and the Earth mission was going ahead as planned. Above him, the air was thick with the squadrons of tsetse flies and robber flies, sweeping up through the darkening sky toward the fabric gap which would lead them towards their ultimate goal: the destruction of human life on Earth.