CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
UTTERLY F*ckED
SAT ON THE wooden veranda, surrounded by the fetid air of the potted jungle, K8 began to feel feverish. At first, she put the sudden clamminess down to fear, but the warmth kept spreading. At the small of her back, sweat pooled and ran like condensation on a cold beer glass. Seeing her growing discomfort, the Leader grinned, and his sharp canines caught the light from the armoured windows at the airship’s nose.
“Are you quite sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea?”
K8’s hands were trembling. She screwed them into little balls.
“Go to hell.”
The monkey rose to his feet and tugged at his cufflinks, first one, then the other.
“I can see,” he said, “that you’re going to prove an interesting addition to the group dynamic.”
K8 swallowed hard.
“I’d rather die.”
He looked down at her, head slightly to one side.
“Would you?” He sounded surprised, and almost disappointed. “Would you really?”
The shaking in her hands spread to her forearms and shoulders.
“You’re damn right I would.”
The monkey touched his chin with leathery fingers.
“Well, that won’t be necessary, I assure you.” Leaving her seated at the wrought iron table, he walked back over to the veranda’s rail and stood, looking out at the sky. Parrots and budgerigars flapped among the upper branches of the trees, little flits of colour against the drab battleship grey of the chamber’s roof. The Leader was a silhouette against the windows. K8’s nose itched and her eyes hurt. All of a sudden, the light from outside seemed uncomfortably bright.
“I’ll never join you.”
The Leader turned to her, but she couldn’t make out his features against the glare. She held up a hand to shade her eyes.
“It seems,” he said, “that you’re labouring under a misapprehension.”
“Dream on, pal.”
He smiled and shook his head, ran a paw back through his coiffured mane.
“Allow me to speak plainly.” He jabbed his index finger in her direction. “You have no choice in the matter. You will join us. You will become part of the collective.”
K8 coughed. Her eyes were watering, and her nose had begun to stream. She dug in her pocket for a screwed-up tissue.
“How can you be so sure?”
The Leader leant back against the rail. He tapped a finger to his lips.
“Because we’ve already ticked that box.”
K8 sniffed and hugged herself. The shakes were getting worse.
“You what?”
The monkey came back to the table and picked up the silver teapot.
“Do you recall the injection on the Tereshkova?” He opened the lid and sloshed the contents around. “Well, I’m very much afraid it contained more than simple sedatives.” He refilled his cup, but didn’t sit.
Through watery eyes, K8 glowered up at him.
“How long have I got?”
He looked at his watch. “You’ll feel under par for another few minutes, like you’re coming down with the flu.”
“And then?” K8’s fingers and toes felt cold. Her stomach growled like a frightened dog.
“Then all your questions will be answered.”
She felt a lump welling in her throat. She couldn’t attack the monkey; in her weakened state, he was far stronger than she was. Neither could she run. He’d catch her before she found her way through the potted trees; and, even if he didn’t, she’d never get past the guards waiting outside the brass door. If she wanted to escape, her only choice would be to throw herself over the edge of the veranda, into the depths of the airship, and hope the fall broke her neck.
It wasn’t much of a choice.
“Why me?”
The Leader reached for the milk jug, and stirred a little of the contents into his tea. Then he placed the teaspoon on the saucer beside his cup, and set the jug back where it had been.
“I’m sure you know the answer to that one.”
She closed her eyes. Of course she knew. He wasn’t the slightest bit interested in her as a person; she had no value to him beyond her worth as bait. She was simply a lure to entrap the Skipper. But, by the time Ack-Ack Macaque came for her—and she had no doubt whatsoever that he would come for her— she’d already be gone, claimed by the hive mind and sentenced to a zombified half-life as one of its drones. Even if by some miracle he got to her before the transformation was complete, he had no cure, no antidote with which to save her; and anyway, who knew what would be left of the world by then? If the Leader succeeded in dumping his plague, there’d be nowhere for them to go, nowhere to run. No way out.
She was, she admitted to herself with a sinking heart, utterly f*cked.
“But, I thought—”
“I need you on board for this one, K8. It’s all about intelligence gathering; market research, if you like. If I’m going to persuade our mutual associate to join the winning team, I’m going to need to get a handle on his worldview. I need to find out what makes him tick, and so I’m going to need access to your memories and knowledge of him.” The Leader raised his drink. In his hairy, simian hands, the teacup looked absurdly dainty. “If he refuses to play ball, and it comes down to a fight, well then, who knows his weaknesses better that you, eh?”
K8 couldn’t reply. Her right eye socket felt as if a rusted spike had been driven into it. It was all she could do to stop herself from crying out. She ground her knuckles against her burning forehead, trying to rub away the pain.
“Don’t think of it as losing,” he said, looking down his nose at her. “Think of it as upgrading early, to avoid the rush.”