Saga Page 21

  “I look forward to a time when our two worlds can explore in friendship our extraordinary relationship. Until then, please try to understand that our actions are directed not against you, the people of Saga, but against the Dark Queen.”

  “Stop.”

  “Nice one.” Milan led the clapping.

  “You think it was clear enough? I didn’t sound completely crazy?”

  “It was good. Crazy, but good.” He laughed and switched off the tank’s powerful forward beams. For a moment, we were blind, until our eyes adjusted to the gray light of the daytime factory interior.

  “Right, now we have to get this out. I can post it onto forums. But what you really need is a major news broadcast.” Athena looked at Cindella.

  “Yes, I have several thousand of us ready to take over a station.”

  “Great. We’ll come, too.” Milan was enthusiastic.

  “Are you sure? I’d rather you kept away; it doesn’t matter if any of us are shot.”

  “Look,” he said as he patted the main gun. “I’ve got a big anarchist tank, and I want to use it.”

  Four hours later, we were settled inside the tank, our coms system in place, ready to go. When I had taken up my position in the driver’s seat, I had again felt a pang of concern for Arnie. Perhaps after this I would, discreetly, check on him. The others were in the same seats they had taken for the race. We were all in for a bumpy ride, because none of us had any idea how to fix the anti-gravity.

  “Erik and his people are waiting for us. Let’s go.” Athena had been keeping an eye on the Defiance forum, which was where we had agreed to post messages to each other under pseudonyms.

  A cough, then a steady rumble. We were off again. With a squeal from the wheels turning inside the tracks, I turned us around and drove up the abandoned railway cutting. Our target, as agreed with Erik, was Newscast 1, the biggest broadcasting center in the City. As we rolled over the old railway ties, the whole vehicle jittered, our bags being noisily thrown up and down. Soon we were on a road and progress was smoother.

  “Next right, Ghost.”

  Our plan was to move as fast as we could, knowing that the tank was certain to attract police attention. So we were taking the overpass. It amused me the way the aircars all slowed to let me into a lane; normally they would jockey in an ill-tempered manner for a better position in the rows of traffic. Once in the fast lane, we could trundle along at a very respectable rate, the billboards flashing by, leaving only a subliminal message for their products.

  “Anything?” Nathan asked, looking over his shoulder at Athena.

  “Quiet at the moment.”

  The turret of our tank rotated so that it faced behind us. A glance at the reverse view showed that a customized Mosveo Starburst was cruising along in our wake.

  “Pow!” Milan pretended to fire and, as if the driver could hear him, the aircar dropped back a little.

  “Junction eighteen please, Ghost.”

  “How do I signal?”

  “We can’t,” Athena answered after a pause.

  “Milan, point that cannon left please and wiggle it a bit or something.”

  In any case, as soon as I started to slow down and edge across the lanes, everyone gave me a very respectful berth.

  “We have police activity up at Newscast 1. But it’s just on the traffic channel.”

  “Must be Erik’s crowd gathering,” mused Nathan.

  Soon we could see the problem for ourselves. Once we had turned into Raphael Street, we could see that traffic going up toward the broadcast center was at a standstill. The tall masts covered with satellite dishes that marked the position of Newscast 1 were still a mile away.

  “Milan, turn your turret around; I’m going up the verge. Strap yourselves in everyone.”

  The tank drove through the road barrier more easily than I could crush a soda can. With a bump, we hit the grass verge that divided the south-going traffic from the north-going, and now we were driving along, tilted over to our left. But that wasn’t the most uncomfortable feature of my plan. The tank shuddered, to the accompanying sound of a loud splintering crack. Soon after, there was another jarring moment, and an equally violent shattering noise. The problem was the billboards. Through the driving controls of the tank, I could feel their brief resistance each time we smashed through one, as well as the release as they gave way. Back in our wake were billboards with tank-shaped holes in them, some of which looked distinctly crumpled and one that had toppled over altogether.

  “Good work, Ghost,” chuckled Milan through my earpiece.

  A hundred billboards later, I felt distinctly queasy, but we had made it. A vast crowd of people was gathered around the broadcast-center gates. They were locked out, and a line of security guards faced them from the other side of the tall metal bars. Traffic police were trying in vain to move the crowd off the road.

  “That looks like our cue,” Milan observed.

  I revved the engine hard so that the people between us and the gate got the idea and parted, leaving a short, clear run to a now-worried body of Newscast 1 security.

  “Here goes!” I warned everyone.

  The gates were sturdy and our first collision merely bent them, the groans of the metal being drowned by the cheers of the crowd. I backed up and charged again. This time, we broke halfway through, and torn metal scraped along the tank’s surface, scarring Nathan’s paintwork. Something was stuck. A tug-of-war began as I tried to reverse, feeling the resistance of whatever was keeping us jammed. Then I changed tack and thrust the controls forward. I could feel the resistance give; we were inching forward. Then suddenly we were free, accelerating forward with a lurch and a scream from the gates; a huge section of metal bars had come with us, sending up showers of blue sparks as it was dragged along the road. The way was open, and the crowd poured through eagerly.

  “Keep going down this road,” Athena directed me.

  A huge parking lot was on our left, full of expensive aircars. To our right was the main broadcasting complex. We passed a series of squat, pastel-colored buildings, then a glass-and-steel tower with a large first-floor canteen. The workers in the canteen were lined up against the green-tinted window, watching with amazement as our tank headed an arrow-shaped mass of people running through their parking lot.

  “This one.”

  A wide curved-glass entrance fronted a sturdy brick building. The man at the desk looked up from his monitor, astonished. Erik’s people were pressing at the glass doors. I saw him, in his bright pirate avatar, at the front, gesturing to the guard inside that he should open the door. The man shook his head.

  Another rev of the engine. By now, everyone around us understood my language; they backed away, even those security guards from the main gate who had run along with the crowd, shouting impotently.

  Three bumps up the steps and an almighty crash, the loudest so far today. Our monitors showed that the entire front of the building had gone, covering the lobby and the ground outside with shards of broken glass.

  “In we go. Pass out our bags, Ghost, please.” Athena was throwing open her hatch.

  “So long, buddy. You did good.” Milan gave the turret a kiss as he climbed out.

  It was much noisier outside the tank than I had expected. Several alarms were sounding, so the people all about were shouting, not to mention the security guards. Those nearest us, though, gave us a big cheer as we got down, dragging our bags and airboards after us.

  “It’s back there, right?” Erik was with his friend, B.E., and they had schematics of the building in their hand.

  “Yeah,” affirmed Athena. “The rest of your people should probably stay here. We need just fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll take charge here. You go on.” B.E. opened a metal briefcase on a table whose glossy magazines were scattered on the ground. He began to assemble a pulse rifle, using the parts from inside the briefcase.

  “I thought you were going to be nonviolent,” commented Nathan.


  “They don’t know that.” B.E. winked.

  “Come on!” urged Athena.

  There were people in the long, yellow-painted corridor. They ducked back into their rooms as we ran. Then we were charging through a large makeup area, full of mirrors and with two famous newscasters in their chairs, white smocks thrown over them, while layer after layer of makeup was painted onto their faces. Again, looks of astonishment.

  “Here!” Athena pointed to a door labeled “Studio 1.” A red light was on: LIVE—DO NOT ENTER.

  We entered.

  “Shoo, shoo!” Milan ran over to the brightly lit desks, gesturing at the two presenters.

  I went to the nearest camera; Erik came with me, sword drawn.

  “Time to leave.” He pointed the blade at the cameraman’s throat. Once the cameraman had thrown down his headset and run, I took hold of the equipment. It was floating on an anti-gravity cushion, easy to move around despite its bulk. Nathan was still arguing with his cameraman, so Erik went over to settle it.

  “I need you up here please, Erik.” Athena was behind us in a glass box, where two middle-aged men in suits were gesturing angrily at her.

  Meanwhile, Milan was sitting on the newscasters’ desk, in the full glare of the studio lights. The presenters, a man and a woman, sat stiff and voiceless, like shop dummies.

  “Say something to Camera One, Milan; I have you in shot.” I laughed as he gave the camera his big ugly monster expression.

  “Hey, Ghost, cool.” He waved. “Well, good afternoon, folks. The news has suddenly gotten interesting, so for those of you lucky enough to be watching this live, sit down and pay attention. In a few moments, you are going to see the most important broadcast you’ll ever see. In the meantime, you probably want to admire my perma-tats.” He flexed his arms, and I couldn’t resist panning in on the writhing designs.

  “We’re set.”

  Over my shoulder, Athena was giving us the thumbs-up. Erik’s sword seemed to have persuaded the men to leave the control booth.

  “Right, set your computers to record, because here it comes.” Milan’s face was off camera; I quickly turned back to him. “This broadcast is brought to you by Defiance. Watch, think about it. And get ready for some wild times.”

  “The recording is playing,” announced Athena. “We should scram. Erik can keep an eye on things here.”

  “Shame; it’s kinda fun.” Milan pulled his board from his shoulder and switched it on. “Lead on.”

  As we snaked away from the building to the cover of some ornamental bushes, helicopters were arriving, rushing overhead with mighty beats of the air. From the back window we had used, it was impossible to tell how things stood out front, but the fact that we could still hear the cries and shouts of a large crowd was promising. Even if the police got past them in the next minute, they would be too late to stop Erik’s broadcast from going out.

  “Where to?” asked Nathan.

  “Follow me.” There were still plenty of hideouts that would suit us, in the old and abandoned parts of the City.

  Chapter 26

  The moon was up, far away in a deep cobalt sky, a silver disc reflected in the glass of the tall buildings around us, or at least those towers that still had windows. This was a very old part of town, a business sector, long since abandoned to rats and pigeons.

  “One gets tired of pizza very quickly,” observed Athena.

  “Not true.” Milan gestured happily with his slice.

  With a sigh, Athena closed the box and wiped her fingers before unrolling her computer.

  “Are you going to eat that?” asked Nathan.

  “No. Go ahead.”

  “Halves!” cried Milan.

  “So, what’s the news?” I asked her.

  “Amazing. There’s, like, ten thousand new forums, at least, discussing the broadcast.”

  “What are they saying?”

  She laughed. “I said ten thousand. I can’t read them all. From what I have looked at, it’s about fifty-fifty so far as to whether they believe Cindella or not.”

  We sat in a derelict office, quiet, looking out into the darkening street.

  “The Defiance forums are hopping.” Athena looked up eagerly. “And we’re getting something like ten members a minute. We’re over twenty-five thousand and growing fast. Here, you should see the threads for yourself.” She turned on the projector, focusing it on a blank wall, and we turned to look. “Just taking one at random.”

  IS DEFIANCE THE WORLD’S FIRST INTERSPECIES GUILD?

  I was tinking, if wot you said on that cast was tru, then

  you are aliens. I’m in a guild with aliens. How cool is

  that? The Cutter ✂

  >Well from our point of view, you are the

  alien. Cat.>>Awesome. I’m an alien. ✂

  >>>What do you do, Cutter?>>>>Me? I’m an airvan driver, delivery boy. Wot about

  u? ✂

  }Salt worker, but just for another three

  months, then I’m going to university to study

  weather systems.}>Cool. How old are u? Are you a girl? ✂

  }>>16. Yes.

  }>>>Neato. 17, boy. ✂

  }>>>>What do you like doing, when you aren’t

  working?}}Easy. Airboarding. ✂

  }}>We don’t have airboards in our world.}}>>Wot no boards? That’s the pits. You’re lucky u

  found us then, I’ll show u if u like. ✂

  }}>>>Would you? I’d love that.}}>>>>NP. Do u know Brahms ■? Me n friendz are

  there all the time, boarding. ✂

  }}}Brahms Square? I can find it. Will you be

  there tomorrow, about 6pm?}}}>Sure will. Whoo Hooo! I’ve a date with an alien! ✂

  }}}>>What do you look like?}}}>>>Sexy. Of course. ✂

  }}}>>>>No, I mean how will I know which is

  you?}}}}Ahh. k. I’ll wear my Defiance hoodie. I’ve vampyre

  tats on my shoulders. + Look for the board with my

  tag on it. Wot about u? ✂

  }}}}>I chose a character type called Silver

  Trooper. It turns out to be some kind of

  imperial messenger. She has a silver uniform

  and an airbike.}}}}>> !¡¡! ✂

  }}}}>>>So see you tomorrow?}}}}>>>>Damn right! ✂

  “There’s hundreds, thousands of threads like it. Defiance forums have become the place where people from the two worlds are chatting. Some of them are a bit more serious. Isn’t it great?” Athena shook her head in amazement. “I had no idea this was going to happen when I invited them in.”

  “It’s wonderful. See, it’s not all bad, this new situation we’re in.” There was a warm smile on Nathan’s lips.

  “No, not bad at all. In fact, it’s getting exciting.”

  A gentle buzz from the pocket of my hoodie made me jump. It was Michelotto’s pager.

  “I bet he’s got a lead on the Dark Queen,” Milan said, glancing up at me.

  “Probably.” As the text scrolled around, I entered the terms into the decoder. “He wants to meet me right away, in a place called Gilgamesh Square.” I looked up questioningly at Athena, who shrugged and returned to her computer.

  “You know, Ghost, you don’t have to go. Not now. If Erik’s plan works, we don’t need to kill the Dark Queen and we don’t need Michelotto.” Nathan looked at me with concern.

  “Maybe. But if he wants me to help take out the Dark Queen, I’ll still do it.” Even talking about the idea gave me a surge of satisfaction, of revenge achieved. “Suppose she gives in to Erik and his people. Lifts the addiction and as a result they leave. As soon as they’re gone, she’ll take her anger out on us, and anyone who helped them. Any pardon she promised won’t be worth a red credit.”

  “I agree,” Milan said, scowling. “Go kick her ass.”

  “But what about Erik’s people?” Nathan persisted. “If you kill the Dark Queen, there’s no hope for them, is there?”

  The question troubled me. A little.

>   “Yeah, I’d like to help them. We have been helping them. But we have to look after ourselves, too.” I got up and kicked my board awake.

  “Wait, Ghost. For the first time in all the years I’ve known you, I think you’re making a mistake. A big one. Two million people will die if you kill her.” Nathan stared at me earnestly.

  “Athena?” I looked to her for help.

  “Don’t ask me. I don’t know. There’s too many variables. For a start, I don’t trust Michelotto, either. With him as king, are things really going to get better for reds, or was he just saying that to keep us on his side? To keep you on his side. On the other hand, how long can we live our lives like rats? On pizza deliveries.” She scowled at Milan to head off a smart remark; he smiled innocently, lifting his shoulders, arms wide. “If you and Michelotto can kill the Dark Queen, I think that’s the best chance things will work out for us. But I feel it would be wrong to condemn those human beings to death, especially now that they seem to be getting somewhere with their protests.”

  “So, what are you saying?” I challenged her.

  “I’m saying—Don’t ask me, I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m going to see what he has to say, at least.”

  “We should probably all come along,” Nathan suggested.

  “Yeah.” Milan put down his pizza.

  “Come on then.”

  It took us an hour of hard boarding to get to Gilgamesh Square, and my thigh muscles were beginning to ache by the time we arrived. Athena had located it for us, in an abandoned residential area. Tall redbrick tenements overshadowed an old fountain, long broken and covered in several layers of graffiti.