Chaos Cipher (79 page)

-63-

T
he leading Xenotech machine sprung
like a reverse bear trap, the huge quadruped limbs spanning into an
extensive X-frame behind the bulbous radial head, long knotting
tentacles twisting far behind it. The machine began its
transmission, issuing a message on all frequencies to Atominus
Phalange. The message began with an anticipant breath and spoke the
first word very clearly.

‘
Malik…’ it
said, a transmission scrambled from years of storage corruption, a
sound that was laced with static interference, the hiss and crackle
of its imperfections making the words sound like loud whispers. ‘I
can feel you out there. Waiting for me. Waiting for our inevitable
unity again.’

The Xenotech
scanned the geographical features below, altering its direction now
for a final approach, dropping through the sky fast.

‘
They have
come a long way to find you. They have reached beyond the limits of
time. Crossed centuries and starscapes all to give you the tools
you need to find me again.’

At an
altitude of eighty thousand feet, surface to air missiles deployed
to meet with the other Xenotech now tearing through the atmosphere,
a long black tail of smoke left smouldering far behind
it.

Submunitions
blasted innocuously over the leader as it delivered its message,
but its path was undisturbed. A fire of great immensity donned the
attention of all who saw it as the raging flames cut through the
lower atmosphere. The transmission had been sent. The four
quadruped legs folded into a tapering point as the burning head
buried into the thickening air. Fires raged across the machine.
Shadows of city buildings dashed and leaned away from the passing
object as it raced for the sands beyond civilisation. The cutting
ferocity of the meteorite parted the desert sands.

‘
Embrace
greatness. Fear not destiny…seize it! We are not here to write the
future, Malik. It is determining what we do now. It’s time to
endure, to transcend, to become the gods we have dreamed of
becoming.’

After a long
angling descent the Xenotech found its resting place in the barren
canyons of North Ameritropolis, arrowing down without any means of
slowing towards solid rock.

‘
It’s time
for the Second Horizon.’

The Xenotech
leader slammed into the red-rock at over a thousand miles per hour.
From the impact zone, hydrogen particles fused and neutronium light
flashed through the bones of lizards skittering too late for
shelter under the fissures of melting rocks. A leviathan blast tore
its way through the endless continent in a shockwave which shook
apart the wind scoured walls, until they were swallowed in a
nuclear dust storm that spread for hundreds of miles from end to
end. And as the sky blackened, static cracks of lightning
pronounced ephemeral networks through the bloating cumulous of
deepest earth and firestone. Five minutes after impact, the
shockwave’s sonic ferocity blew out windows of the closest
municipality, before raining fire into the streets.

PART
THREE

HYPERMEKHOS

-64-

T
he stars in the Novus were
beautiful at night. They lit up a spectacular spray of light
arching behind the lunar scape. Gus had unwrapped a night-cover for
the jeep and drawn it across the cabin to hide the engine’s thermal
readings and general visibility of the vehicle’s husk. Artex and
Pania surveyed a suitable place to set up camp at the bottom of a
large talus. The tent looked like a large boulder on first glance,
just the way it was supposed to, one of many rocky deposits at the
bottom of a hummock of stones. Artex was nervously checking the
cliff face of the surrounding scarps for life but Cedalion found
nothing larger than occasional small rodents. She’d dove through
the night to make a collection for them, gathering meat for the
journey.

‘
There’s a
lot of activity up there tonight,’ Pania said. ‘Wonder what’s going
on?’

She’d been
looking at the night sky where the long silvery streak of Starnavis
engines flickered back. They saw flashes and pulses of light that
were large and unusual for normal solar-commercial activities.
Artex was concerned.

‘
Hell, if I
know,’ he said. ‘From all the way down here, that might look
unusual and small, but something big is happening up
there.’

‘
How’d you
know?’ Gus said, hooking down the dust cover.

‘
They’re
setting off phoenix explosives,’ said Artex. ‘Nukes and missiles
designed specifically to fly and explode in space.’

‘
You saying
there’s a war up there?’

‘
Looks that
way.’

Pania had her
hands on her hips. She sniffled in the cold air and Gus strolled
towards the tent, patting the solid armadillo shell, complementing
the job. Pania ducked and entered through the side and Artex and
Gus joined her a moment later. They drank gin and smoked most of
the night, their feet bunched up together in the middle. An LED
kinetic hourglass was glowing above them, and as the sand drained
away the thirtieth minute, the weight of the sand activated a
spring and flipped the hourglass over, keeping the lights
running.

‘
When did you
get this done?’ Gus asked Pania, pointing to the Otter tattoo on
her side with his toe.

‘
A while
back,’ she said drinking back her cup of neat gin. ‘When I first
joined the Otters-Clan military.’

‘
I like
it.’

‘
Designed it
myself.’

‘
I was
thinking of getting something too.’ Gus smiled. ‘I’m an Eagle, like
Artex.’

She looked
over to Artex who was smiling quietly and drinking some gin, but he
hadn’t said much, as usual.

‘
Where’s your
Eagle?’ she asked.

‘
Don’t have a
tattoo,’ he said, ‘I’ve Cedalion. She’s something real to me. When
I fly with the hawk…I feel free.’

‘
I’ve been
meaning to ask,’ Pania said, ‘there’s something behind your ear, a
Scorpion tattoo. What’s that for?’

Artex was
reluctant to tell. He sighed and put down his cap, both Gus and
Pania now hinged with anticipation.

‘
It’s old
history,’ he told them. ‘Nothing more.’

Sensing he
didn’t want to discuss it, Pania and Gus looked at each other, but
struggled to change the topic of conversation.

‘
Well…it’s
fine,’ she smiled with a nod. ‘Hey, do you know why we have clans?
I mean, we don’t do anything different from each other, do
we?’

‘
Sometimes,’
said Artex. ‘Eagles are usually scouts. Otters are land and water
creatures, usually more nocturnal animals, could be secretive, I
guess. The Bruin are usually very strong front line infantry. But
we all learn a bit of everything. The Clans are
necessary.’

‘
Why?’ Gus
asked.

‘
When I was
training in the Atominii, I was sent to a particular tribe in the
Aborigines. They were a big tribe, they used Atominii technology
and they had a lot of problems with tribal fighting. I was on a
peacekeeper mission at the time. The Atominii originally hired us
to protect some Anthropologists who saw these people as a potential
playground for experimentation. They called it a social sandbox. We
expected we’d have to murder them all to save those scientists. But
interestingly enough, we got the tribal leaders to talk. We didn’t
solve the problem, the Anthropologists simply made it possible for
the tribe elders to solve their own problems. They wanted to see
what would happen. The elders agreed to forge clan logic. Each
tribe would foster the animals of the wilderness; they chose the
tarantula, the scorpion, the snake and others. Every tribe in the
region had a clan of scorpions, a clan of snakes and spiders. They
solved their problems this way. Their tribes were different, but
their clans had affinities. So, the mercenaries working on that
project learned from this experience.

‘
In Cerise
Timbers, we know that many of the people are sociocratic, they have
a shared interest. They don’t need this ideology. But the military
need a way of sharing an interest in protecting the people without
vying for power to seize the wealth of the city for themselves and
dominate. That’s why each group requires a different approach. So,
we applied the clan logic. We all work individually, but he have
shared affinities. If one group decides to want to break the city
values, the others will be ready to take them on. That’s the true
meaning behind these symbols.’

Pania had
never considered it. She’d never before thought about it. Looking
down at the Otter now she was conflicted, she felt she was part of
something, while also she felt controlled.

‘
But why?’
she said.

‘
To engage
trust,’ he explained, ‘because to hold power requires a lot of
discipline. It must be evenly distributed; too much power in the
hands of too few people causes mayhem. Power is for power’s sake.
That animal for you will be your guide, your conscience. She’ll
remind you there are others out there who share the same family
symbol. Love is a deep emotion.’

-65-

G
racing the cold stormy winds,
Cedalion slipped above the barren landscape. Her keen eye
watchfully befell the prison camp and observed its trainers who
lifted their weights and ran the perimeter. Supported on a large
and cinder burnt platform, she spotted the Perigrussia Skybus, then
tilted her arched wings back to fall closer in towards the base.
She saw the strange magnetic currants layered like onion skin,
occasionally shifting pattern and causing her to break and glide
around the confusing tesla waves.

Her eyes
enhanced, lenticular layers fattening, focussing down on a large
concrete building with only one entrance. A crowd of large men
dressed in boiler suits and training outfits were walking from the
entrance carrying rifles and bags and talking and smoking. She
circled the building once, taking in everything it required.
Cedalion wheeled and came to perch on a guard tower not far from
the Perigrussia Skybus.

The hawk’s
head twisted and she bowed to scrape clean her beak against the
hard wet wood and fecklessly groomed and nibbled beneath her wings,
preening the particles caught there from her flight. Distantly,
thunder dropped through the clouds and rumbled dully
above.

*

Kyo’s head
hit the floor with a heavy thump, but screaming the way he was did
not deter the violence, it did not frighten his enemy. The bastard
just kept coming. There were yells, voices gabbling and in the
darkness all around him, a radial blur of sweaty multi-coloured
faces and thrashing arms producing tickets to one of Krupin’s
shitty ilk at the front taking bets. Taking bets on how he was
going to get through this alive. Taking bets on whatever animal
side was supposed to be within him.

‘
GET UP
LYCAN!’ Someone screamed.

‘
Heet beck
you feggut!’ Another, much closer voice tore through the clamour,
‘beya man, two, one, nine! Man up!’

Man up two,
one, nine…or I’ll show you how
. What did
it mean to be a man? Kyo wondered as he lay on the rotten smelling
concrete and tried to climb back to his feet again. Was it to feel
pain, was it to be fine with hurting others and accept pain from
others? His opponent now stood in the other corner of the ring, his
face bleeding, his eyes puffy and his knuckles blotted with blood
through the bandages.

‘
Go
gene-freak!’ Krupin’s voice manifest from the cackling abyss. ‘Tear
him apart, boy.’

Sweat poured
from Kyo’s brow as he pushed to his knees and gradually progressed
to his feet. He heard the laughter of inamtes around him; those who
he had come to learn were professional cage fighters. But to Kyo,
there was no dignity here. The fight was not voluntary, it was not
willed by anyone; it was pure survival.

‘
COME ON!’ He
heard the other boy scream, fists raised, already thrashing the air
violently, trying to show Kyo he was not tired when in fact they
were both exhausted. And Kyo knew from his own wretched experience
it wasn’t fear that was driving his opponent, it wasn’t hatred, but
it was desperation. He had something to lose from this. Cut,
aching, sore all over, Kyo stared with his good eye and stumbled to
keep his balance. He flashed his fangs and faced his opponent, tail
swaying with hypnotic and distracting motion just behind him. His
opponent roared, screaming with rage, tearing his vest in half,
throwing his momentum forward. He hauled himself at the gene-freak.
The first two punches landed hard, throwing Kyo off his feet. But
he pulled his opponent down with him. This was good. He worked
better on the floor. Kyo twisted him over, pinned his knee into the
other boy’s neck, and brought down his fist like an Armand hammer
digging for blood. Screaming with anger, allowing the rage to fill
his heart, Kyo felt something disturbing stir within him. Something
that thirsted for violence, an urge that threatened to overwhelm
his morality, an urge that demanded more.
Kill him.