CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
OPTIMISED PEOPLE
VICTORIA STAYED IN the pilot’s chair. She had nowhere else to go. Around her, the old skyliner moaned and squealed its torment. Wet air barged through the shattered windshield, hurling debris and loose sheets of paper around the bridge.
“Nine thousand feet,” Paul intoned over the speakers. Victoria gripped the console in front of her, trying to make sense of the readouts and winking lights. Her mind kept flashing back to the helicopter crash, the one in the South Atlantic more than two years ago; the one she should never have survived; the one that had left her a half-human cyborg.
How much of her would be left after this one? “Can we steer?” She spoke to stave off the panic that thrashed inside her. Most of the screens on the bridge were dead. A small one set into the console lit with a projection of her ex-husband’s face. He still wore his round spectacles, but he’d somehow found the time to add a red and white Kamikaze headband to his image. Spikes of peroxide yellow hair stuck up above it like the bristles of an unwashed paintbrush.
“Barely.” He bit his lip. “Eight and a half thousand. Best guess is we’ll be coming down somewhere between Victoria Embankment and St. Paul’s.” “Can we turn?”
“What difference does it make?” He waved his arms. “Wherever we hit, we’re going to be hitting buildings.”
“Not if we land on the airship.”
He looked at her open mouthed. He took his glasses off, and then put them on again.
“Come on,” she said. “If we discard the other three hulls, we’ll be small enough. He’s bigger and wider than us.”
He pushed the glasses into place with an index finger. “But, what if we glance off?”
“Who cares?” She felt a dizzying sense of freedom, and knew the gelware in her head had cut in, suppressing her fear in a blast of clear thinking machine clarity. “We’re going down anyway.”
“But the Ack-ster—?”
“He’d do the same.”
Paul thought about it. The wind howled through the bridge.
“Okay,” he said after a few seconds. The deck heaved to port as he used the ship’s remaining rudders to bring her about. “What choice do we have?” He swallowed. “Seven thousand…”
Victoria couldn’t see anything ahead but cloud. They were still in the murk, but the number of shots hitting them had dwindled.
“Get the stewards up here,” she said. “As soon as we hit, I want them out, ready to fight.”
“What about Cole and his daughter?”
“Everybody fights.”
She watched the interior of the cloud slide past the window. Heading set, the Tereshkova lurched forward again, every last drop of engine power being used to propel it forward, and down.
Almost immediately, the Gestalt’s bullets resumed their clatter. Victoria ducked.
Paul said, “I think they’re onto us.”
“Then let’s give them something else to shoot at.” She leant close to his image. “Jettison the hulls.”
A series of bangs rattled the length of the skyliner, and the deck surged under her as the weight of the other sections fell away. They were on their own now, just one airship in a crowd of four. To the Gestalt gunners, reliant on infrared images, they must look like a sudden fleet of ships—or a gigantic wreck. But this obfuscation came with a price. Most of the engine nacelles and rudder fins were on the outer hulls. Losing them left the central section almost helpless. In effect, they were riding a kilometrelong balloon with only a single impeller to push it along. Now that they were locked on course for a collision, there was nothing they could do to alter their decision. They had lost the manoeuvrability needed to change course. Like it or not, they were going to hit the ironclad, and hit hard.
“I’m getting reports in from other skyliners around the globe.” Paul flashed some images onto a sub-window behind his face, making him look like a newsreader. Over his shoulder she saw aerial battles over foreign cities; burning planes, exploding buildings.
“Are we winning?”
He bit his lip.
“Not even slightly. There are too many ’ships, and not enough cooperation.”
“So we’re losing?”
“We’re getting annihilated.”
The bridge bucked as the remains of the Tereshkova hit turbulence. Then they were out of the cloud, with the broad bulk of the enemy ship directly ahead, and their abandoned hulls falling around them like spent rockets. They were seconds from collision with the Gestalt. Tracer bullets hosed the sky, their lines of firefly sparks joining the two ships. With one finger, Victoria pulled back the attitude control and raised the nose, bringing up the bow.
She touched the image of Paul’s face on the screen.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He didn’t hear her.
“Brace!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the ship. “Brace, brace!”
“WELL,” THE LEADER said with a thin smile, “it seems we have a stand off.”
He stepped backwards until he reached the veranda’s bamboo rail. Teeth bared, Ack-Ack Macaque glowered at him. Between them, K8 sat impassively, the barrel of the gun she held making a slight indentation in the short-cropped ginger hair above her right ear.
“Let her go, shitweasel. You and I need to settle this, monkey to monkey.”
The Leader shook his head.
“You still think you can fight me?” He seemed amused. “Look at the state of you.” He leant his elbows on the rail. “I’m surprised you can even stand.”
Ack-Ack Macaque gave him the finger.
“Spin on it.”
The Leader laughed, and turned his face to the broken glass ceiling.
“Oh, my friend. Why must you think of me as ‘the bad guy’? Surely even you can see the good I do?” He stretched out his arms. “There are entire worlds out there that know nothing of war or hunger. They have no crime or suffering, no murder or terrorism. No loneliness. Just world after world of happy, optimised people, working and striving together towards common goals.” He interlaced his fingers. “Togetherness, mutual understanding and brotherhood. That’s what it’s all about.” He checked his ornate wristwatch. “As your world will discover for itself, in a few short moments.”
“Says you.”
The Leader tugged his lapels, straightening his jacket.
“My fleet has begun to seed the skies with little machines, each with the dimensions of a single molecule. The process will take a few moments. After that, these little machines disperse themselves on the wind, adapting and assimilating every human with which they come into contact. Within hours, the world will be as your friend here.” He drew back his lips in a smirk that was half smile, half challenge. “You can be as sceptical as you like, ‘Ack-Ack’, but I build utopias. Good ones. Better than anything you’ve currently got.”
“We’ve got our freedom.”
“And what good is that? Last year, you almost blew yourselves up in a thermonuclear war.”
“We didn’t though, did we?
The Leader flicked dismissive fingers. “Only by the unlikeliest of chances.”
Suddenly, he frowned. He opened his mouth to speak again, but broke off before he’d uttered a complete syllable.
“That’s strange, “ he said, tipping his head to one side. The frown grew deeper. He looked at Ack-Ack Macaque. “My connection…”
Ack-Ack Macaque heard a strangled noise and glanced down at K8. She was looking straight back at him. Her features were pale and strained, and her teeth were clamped together. A single bead of sweat ran down the side of her forehead. The hand holding the gun began to shake. Behind her, the Leader cried out in pain and put a hand to his brow.
Ack-Ack Macaque looked from one to the other, and realisation dawned.
“Holy shit!” He sprang forwards and seized K8’s arm. It was her. She was fighting back. Somehow, she’d found a way to resist.
Twisted like wires around the pistol’s grip, her fingers didn’t want to relinquish the weapon, but he managed to pry them apart just as her knuckle whitened on the trigger. He jerked her hand free, and the gun went skittering across the wooden decking, and clonked against a plant pot.
Spent with effort, K8 collapsed, arms and legs flopping down on either side of the chair. He took her by the shoulders.
“K8, can you hear me? Are you still in there?”
She gave him a look.
“You know me, Skip,” she croaked. “I can hack anything. But it’s hard. I don’t know how much longer I can block his connection. Be quick, before the others notice.”
Ack-Ack Macaque squeezed her shoulders. He didn’t need telling twice. Separated from the hive and unable to summon reinforcements, the Leader was vulnerable. He lunged forward, covering the distance between them in a handful of steps. The other monkey saw him coming, and thrust out a hand.
“No, you imbecile!”
But it was too late.
They crashed together in a flurry of raking claws and snapping teeth, each intent on ripping out the other’s throat. Ack-Ack Macaque was fast, and fought dirty, but he was carrying the injuries accumulated during the storming of the Gestalt headquarters, as well as the bumps and scrapes from his fall through the trees. The Leader was fresh and rested, and fought with such ferocity that Ack-Ack Macaque quickly found himself being pushed back. A manicured thumb tried to gouge his eye, and he bit it. But then a blow caught the side of his head, and he staggered. His vision blurred for a second. Reaching out, his fingers grasped the Leader’s lapels, but the other monkey had something in his fist. The Leader’s arm pulled back and light flashed from a steel blade. Ack-Ack Macaque tried to block the blow, but only succeeded in deflecting it. Instead of puncturing his gut, the point of the knife caught him across the upper arm, slicing through leather, hair and skin.
“Aargh!”
Gripping the wound, he stumbled back. The Leader followed, a snarl of triumphant bloodlust on his leathery features, his hand drawn back for another thrust.
And then something hit the airship from above.
There was a cataclysmic crash and a great weight pressed on them. Something had hit the airship, and hit it hard. Ack-Ack Macaque felt his feet lift as the floor surged downwards, and, for an instant, everything went weightless. The Leader staggered and threw out a hand to steady himself against the veranda’s rail. The distraction was all AckAck macaque needed. With a bloodcurdling howl, he ducked under the knife and flung himself at the other monkey. His shoulder hit the Leader in the stomach and, caught off-balance, the other monkey fell back against the rail.
“No!” he cried.
Ack-Ack Macaque wrapped his arms around the Leader’s waist.
“I’m taking you down, sweetheart.”
He heaved with every ounce of remaining strength. Dry bamboo snapped and splintered, and they both crashed through and fell, still struggling, into empty space.
BREAKING NEWS
From B&FBC NEWS ONLINE:
GLOBAL WAR!
Reports are coming in of massive aerial attacks against cities in Europe, the Americas, and the Far East. Details are uncertain, but it seems that in the past few minutes, major bombardments have hit London, Paris, Berlin, New York, Tokyo and Beijing. There are also unconfirmed reports of further strikes in Madrid, Rome, Ankara, Los Angeles, Buenos Aires, and Athens.
So far, the bombings seem to be targeting government buildings and military installations, but explosions have hit some civilian areas. The source of these attacks is unknown, but it is feared thousands may already be dead.
Click here for amateur footage of the attacks.
No official sources could be reached, but Commonwealth citizens are advised to seek shelter, and tune to the Emergency Broadcast System for updates.
In the meantime, all…
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