Amba pulled the trigger, and Dex
realised his eyes were closed, and there came a
slam
of energy and he felt the heat sear his face and he
gasped, his hands rising reflexively, grabbing at his chest where he was sure
to find a gaping hole with his ribs poking out.
But there was no hole. Only
something hazy drifting against his face, as if he walked through a very fine
drizzle. It pressed against his lips like a kiss, caressed his face like the
softest of silk veils, and - opening his eyes with a
click -
Dex
realised it was a cloud of blood. And Romero’s head was gone.
The large corpse buckled slowly,
like a tower with its foundations bombed, and it folded gently to the floor. Dex
looked up, looked at Amba, and she was crying and there was no sense there, no
logic there, and she was not looking at him but staring off, into another
place, another time, another world. A world where the blue door was never
closed.
Dex stepped over Romero’s corpse
and took Amba gently in his arms.
“Amba?” he said, softly. “Amba?”
“Mmm?” Gradually, she focused on
his face, and said, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Don’t tell me your aim was that
bad.”
“No. No. I love you, Dexter. But
they chipped me; reset me. But I fought it, fought it like a demon. Not just
for you; but for all those people I murdered. And especially my little girl.
Especially her.”
Dex licked his lips, released
Amba; and moving swiftly to SARAH he plunged his arm into the icy coldness of
her core, grasped the FRIEND, and pulled it free. A voice chattered in his
head, liked winged demons pecking on the diseased remains of his corpse.
Hello,
said the FRIEND.
I was
enjoying that!
Tell me you left nothing behind?
In SARAH?
Of course not. I am a consummate
professional. Don’t you recognise my voice, Dexter? I am yours. Your FRIEND.
Your specification. Your KillChip, programmed by Quantell Systems. I am a model
2.1
Kade.
And I am yours for all
eternity.
With a snort of disgust, Dexter
threw Kade with all his might, and the FRIEND clattered along a metal walkway
and was suddenly
sucked
into a huge black machine. Then it was gone.
Then it was done.
“You hear?” said Amba, pointing
upwards.
“She’s stopped screaming.”
“I hope we were in time,” said
Dex.
“We were in time,” smiled Amba,
and fell to her knees. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she buried her face in
her hands. Dexter stared at her, not understanding, and she waved to him. “Go.
Go check Katrina and Toffee. They need you.”
Dex ran to Toffee, and gently
rolled her into his arms. Blood had stopped leaking from the split in her head,
and Dex cradled his little one, willing his life force into her, willing his
strength to flow into her bones and mend the break.
She opened her eyes. “Daddy?”
“I’m here, sweetie.”
“My head hurts, Daddy.”
“We’ll get it bandaged real soon,
Toffee.”
“I’m not going to die, am I,
Daddy?”
“No, sweetheart. I promise you.
You’re not going to die.”
“Are we going home yet? I’ve had
enough of Theme Planet.”
“Soon, little one. Soon.”
He removed his shirt, and rolled
it into a pillow for Toffee. Then he crawled over to Katrina, convinced she was
dead, and not sure how he felt. She had betrayed him so badly, said such evil
things. But he loved her. He always would. It was hardwired into him. She might
be a bitch, but she was
his
bitch. She might be a murdering,
back-stabbing dirtbox, but she was
his
murdering, back-stabbing dirtbox.
“Kat?” he said, softly, eyes
taking in the massive pool of blood. There was too much blood there. Way too
much blood.
Amazingly, her eyes opened. “I’m
still here,” she said.
“How can you survive that?”
“They made me tough. Just like
you.”
“What do we do now?”
“We go home,” said Katrina.
“We can’t go home. We betrayed
Oblivion. Ha. Sorry.
I
betrayed Oblivion. You’ll probably get a pay
rise. Or some new upgrades. Or something.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m tempted to leave you here.
Let SARAH deal with you.”
Katrina coughed, and her face was
torn with pain. “I have a better idea.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Let’s find Molly. Let’s be a
family again.”
“You all turned against me.
Remember?”
Katrina grabbed him, grabbed him
so hard her fingers left indents in his flesh. “They won’t let any of us live,
you know. They’ll hunt us down. All of us. With Romero dead, they’ll appoint a
new leader of the Ministers of Joy... appoint a new overlord to watch over the
Anarchy Androids. We fucked it all up, Dexter. They’ll want us removed, for
sure. And they’ll send their best after us; their best hunters.”
“Why should I help you?” said
Dexter.
“Because you love me. And you
know I love you. You
know
it.”
“I can’t trust you,” said Dexter.
Katrina laughed. “Good. That’s
the way I prefer it.” She reached forward and pecked him on the lips. “It’ll
keep you on your toes, chipmunk. “
Dex stared at her, and grinned at
the insanity of it, and through the whirl of confusion that was his brain,
through the ash confetti of his turbulent soul, he knew they had more chance of
survival if they stayed together. Yes, Earth would want them dead. No matter
what part they played in foiling Earth’s invasion plans; in their plans to
kidnap
and abuse this most incredible of alien wonders. Dex glanced over at Amba, and
she smiled at him, and he knew she loved him; but his love was for Katrina. His
first true love. His only love.
“Shit,” he muttered, covering his
eyes.
“What’re we gonna do, Dex?”
whispered Katrina.
“Let’s find Molly, and explore
the Quad-Gal together,” said Dexter.
~ * ~
Released
of
the FRIEND, SARAH raged. And with her rage came control.
On the command bridge of the lead
bomber, General Kome released his grip on the comm as the mountain range
reared
up,
expanding like stretched rubber, mountains melting into one another and
flowing into a mass of liquid rock before they expanded, and like a mammoth
hand reached out towards the bombers - a
thousand
bombers - and engulfed
them with one easy swipe. Kome and Peterson and the bomber were instantly
crushed down to the size of a sardine tin. All the bombers were destroyed in an
instant.
Elsewhere on Theme Planet, SLAM
fighters and KULA jets and Warbirds and T6 AirTanks were similarly attacked by
their surroundings. Huge pillars of ocean leapt upwards, defying gravity
(indeed, all the laws of physics and probability), and took out single fighters
with well-aimed stabs, dragging them screaming back to the depths of the ocean,
engines howling and jets burning and missiles steaming beneath the churning
waters. Across deserts, huge sandstorms leapt into existence from nowhere, and
pilots suddenly found chunks of rock the size of groundcars sucked into
engines, sending aircraft and Shuttles plummeting to earth. Over rides, the
tracks of many a rollercoaster or vertical dive suddenly twisted, screeching
upwards towards their attackers and firing ride CARs like machine gun bullets
through the air,
Bam-bam-bam,
with
perfect accuracy. SLAM fighters were taken down by multiple hits from ride CARs
displaying clown faces. KULA jets were speared like a slab of pig on a fork by
twisting, squealing sections of high rollercoaster track. Theme Planet, now
under the direct, aggressive control of SARAH, went on the attack, the offensive.
Theme Planet became a living, breathing, weapon.
Kome had mocked Monolith for
having such a lucrative business venture with no protection. How wrong he’d
been. Monolith, SARAH, had simply never had reason to show her strength before.
Now, after the pain and agony of torture under the FRIEND, her rage spat
through her planet-wide shell. She terraformed thousands of parts every minute,
every
second,
changing and moulding and altering, great fingers of rock
and glass and tree branch and ocean cylinder, all stretching out, expanding,
deforming, to slap and smash and swat Earth’s Oblivion Warfleet from the sky.
Thousands upon thousands of attacking craft were destroyed in only a few short
minutes, such was SARAH’s rage; and then her rage subsided, and what few Earth
craft remained limped like puppies with broken backs, up, out and away from
Theme Planet, which had returned with so much ease to a holiday paradise
destination. A place where fun and joy could be had. Where children splashed in
the waves and families enjoyed peace, and relaxation, and more excitement than
any other holiday destination ever!
And if you hadn’t been sick?
Well, you soon would be.
~ * ~
EPILOGUE
STATE OF THE ART
The droning Circle-Tour
Shuttle was bound for the next,
exciting and turbulent world, known simply as
The City.
Dex got up and
limped down the aisle for the toilet. He’d spent the last three hours scanning
all ggg sites across the Four Galaxies, but there was no mention of Earth’s
intent to invade and conquer all, to build a New Empire, a New Order. And
Monolith, with its almost perfect strangle-hold on total media output and its
own image, had certainly played down the incident, talking up Amba’s broadcast
as the act of an insane religious zealot.
Probably worried about adverse publicity
ruining its profit margins, eh?
thought Dex. And after all, what planet
wasn’t allowed the odd “natural disaster” to account for the loss of half a
million tourists? Small fry.
The Shuttle cruised through the
emptiness of space, and through clouds of freezing hydrogen. The engines were
quiet, and Dex locked the toilet door, wondering if he dared light up a
cigarette.
Back in their seats, Katrina,
Molly and Toffee looked at one another. Katrina was still ashen from the
pain-killers, but the drone doctor sent by SARAH did a good job of stapling her
back together, administering antibiotics and giving her much-needed engineered
fake blood. Molly was her same old self, moody and dark and frowning after
being rescued from a Ride Sump. It had taken three hours just to get the ride
engine oil from her hair! And Toffee was a reformed child, bright and cheerful
as a bunch of freshly picked flowers. How easily they slipped back into their
roles. How fluidly they took on the mantle of “human.”
“It was a shame Amba wouldn’t
come with us,” bubbled Toffee.
“Yes, a great shame,” said
Katrina, thoughtfully. “She could have been useful. Very useful indeed.”
“And a good thing Daddy is so
trusting and forgiving,” said Molly, with a narrow, dark, knowing smile.
“Molly!” chastised Katrina. “You’re
not to upset your father again!”
“Upset him?” she half-laughed. “You
had us try to kill him!”
“That was then. This is now.
Things have changed, children. Wait until we get ourselves established in The
City; we can form our own organisation there. There are...
people
who
will pay a lot of money for our skills.”
“Our skills?” said Molly, dark
eyes flashing, voice a hushed decadence.