Nova War (5 page)

Something in the posture of all three caused Remembrance to suspect that his presence was not unanticipated. They appeared relaxed, and Bourdain even wore a small smile.

Remembrance glanced sideways at Honeydew and found himself staring down the barrel of the Immortal Light agent’s shotgun. In that moment, he realized his initial suspicions concerning the source of the security leak had been correct.

How long, Remembrance wondered, had Bourdain known he was the subject of a deep-cover investigation stretching over years and several star systems?
I’ve spent too long around these creatures,
he thought, with a tinge of self-loathing that disturbed him, for sometimes it felt as if he could read humans better than they could read each other. His time amongst them had at least granted him an appreciation of certain of the species’ arts, if not of anything else related to them.

Honeydew gestured towards the table with his shotgun. ‘Drop your weapon where I can see it,’ he demanded, and Remembrance was conscious of a simultaneous translation into human speech.

He ignored the request, keeping his shotgun trained on Bourdain.

‘Remembrance of Things Past,’ said Bourdain, extending his arms across the back of his chair. ‘It’s been a while, but maybe not long enough.’ He waved one desultory hand towards the weapon aimed at his chest. ‘I really don’t think that’s such a good idea in a place like this, do you?’

The metallic tones of Remembrance’s interpreter clashed with the moist clicking of his mouth-parts. ‘But, Alex, I’d hate for you to leave when we’ve still got so much to talk about.’

‘Like?’

‘Friends. Family. The smuggling of banned alien technology through Bandati-controlled space. The usual.’

‘You know, I figured all along you were the one who betrayed me. Someone used a Giantkiller to destroy the world I made, Remembrance, and you were one of those responsible for ensuring that device reached me in the first place.’

‘The technical term is “deep cover”, Alex. I was only performing my duty.’

‘Your “duty” murdered a lot of innocent people when the Rock was destroyed. How does that make you any better than me?’

‘I have no idea who activated the weapon. We wouldn’t even have known you were smuggling that kind of technology if we hadn’t been alerted by your attempt to illicitly acquire one of our liquid shields. When you look at the sheer length of the chain eventually leading to you, it’s hardly a surprise if a link happens to break. Tell me, how long have you known?’

‘About you? Long enough,’ Bourdain replied. ‘You were the weak link – the one whose story was a little too perfect, a little too contrived.’

‘But good enough while it lasted,’ Remembrance replied, keeping his shotgun trained on Bourdain. ‘I’m afraid it’s over, Alex.’

Remembrance twisted around, changing his grip on his shotgun so he now held it like a club, and batted Honeydew’s shotgun out of the agent’s hands. It was still attached to Honeydew’s wrist by a loop, but Remembrance had bought himself precious moments, unless either Kapur or Mazower—

He heard a pair of near-simultaneous clicks and turned to see the two bodyguards standing up, next to their kicked-over chairs, each training a handgun on him. Remembrance froze in mid-swing, and saw Bourdain’s grin spread a little wider.

‘You should have gone through the proper channels,’ Honeydew rasped, retrieving his shotgun back out from where it had slipped between two slats, but keeping his distance now.

‘Why? To give you even more time to warn Bourdain I was on my way?’

‘I want you to put your weapon down, and I want you to do it very softly, and very gently,’ Honeydew replied. ‘And then we’re going to talk. Remember what I told you: this is the last place you ever want to start a fire-fight.’

Remembrance stood stock-still, considering his options. He was peripherally aware of motion at some distance and glanced sideways to see that the kitchen staff and the few remaining clientele were making their escape as quietly and carefully as possible.

As if in response to the sudden tension in the air, a faint tremor rolled through the moist flesh underfoot. More small winged shapes erupted from the deep shadows in the upper reaches of the maul-worm’s interior, and there was a long exhalation of air from the darker reaches of the cave further in that bordered on a low animal moan.

Honeydew’s wings twitched nervously as they all waited to see if anything more happened, but the tremor faded after a few moments and then there was nothing. Remembrance noticed the fleeing staff and customers had all frozen in place, somewhat comically, once the maul-worm had started twitching. They started moving again a little more quickly once it looked like they were in less danger. A few cast frightened glances towards the tableau of armed Bandati and humans, all apparently intent on killing each other in the most volatile environment possible.

Remembrance spun his shotgun back around, training it once more on Bourdain, who rolled his eyes and shook his head at the same time. ‘I think I made it clear I wasn’t going to do anything of the kind.’

‘Be sensible, Remembrance, and surrender your weapon. Pull that trigger and there’s a good chance we’ll all wind up dead.’

‘And if I don’t, what? You’ll shoot me?’ The situation was patently ridiculous. ‘And how exactly is that any better?’

Bourdain stood up, the smile vanished from his face. He spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Nobody said anything about shooting you or anyone else. We just want to talk, perhaps come to an agreement of some kind – one that benefits us all.’

‘That would be nice,’ Remembrance replied drily, ‘but unfortunately, your reputation rather precedes you. We both know I’m dead the instant I put this shotgun down.’

He lowered the barrel of his shotgun until it was poking down between two slats and at the floor formed by the maul-worm’s gullet. He made sure they could all see his finger was ready on the trigger. ‘You just can’t take the chance I might come after you again, if I’m allowed to live. Better to have me die in a place like this, somewhere that’s inherently accident-prone. And the last thing Honey dew wants is for himself to be exposed as being linked to a high-tech smuggling operation. So, no, I really don’t think I want to put this shotgun down.’

‘Wait.’ Bourdain stepped around the table. ‘Just
wait
a goddamn minute. There are ways and means to sort this out, so nobody move and remember where we are. Nobody. Move. An inch.’

Remembrance pushed the barrel of his shotgun down into the moist surface of the worm’s gullet, as hard as he could. His earlier terror had temporarily abandoned him, replaced by a kind of mania he could neither understand nor identify.

Almost at once, a breathy moan emerged from deep inside the cave, accompanied by a low rumbling they all felt more than heard. Honeydew’s wings spasmed involuntarily, as if they wished to carry him somewhere far away. Kapur and Mazower looked like they were both on the verge of fleeing.

It occurred to Remembrance that in all the intelligent species he had so far encountered, the one universal trait they shared was a deep aversion to being eaten alive by something bigger than themselves.

‘Stop right there,’ came a voice from directly behind Remembrance.

‘Hugh Moss,’ said Remembrance, recalling the cadaverous shadow he’d glimpsed through a screen. He cursed himself for letting his attention slip. ‘I had a feeling it was you. Aren’t you supposed to be dead?’

‘I
am
dead,’ came the voice, sounding as lifeless as dry and brittle bones. ‘I died and was reborn. Let go your weapon, little fly, before I cut off your wings.’

Remembrance turned to see Moss standing there.
Like a graveyard ghoul come to life,
a Consortium agent had once described the man.

Remembrance had not known what a ghoul was, and had never been in a graveyard, so he’d had to research the phrase before he understood the agent’s meaning. But Moss now looked far ghastlier than on any previous encounter: his face was discoloured and heavily scarred, showing all the signs of recent violence. More pertinently, he was holding a long, curved knife close to the ligature of one of Remembrance’s wings.

The knife gleamed wickedly in the dim light of the glow-globes. It was, Remembrance knew, no ordinary weapon. Rapid vibrations rolled through the blade at the touch of an unseen switch, vastly increasing its capacity to maim and kill. Moss had demonstrated its use once, by slicing a deep groove into a stone wall with apparently very little effort. Remembrance fingered the shotgun’s trigger, tight under one long, narrow finger. The tiniest motion would send a bullet pumping into the soft, vulnerable flesh beneath the platform. ‘I have a better idea,’ he said, unable to take his eyes off the shimmering blade. ‘We’re going to talk about Mr Bourdain’s surrender, or I’m going to make this monster very, very upset.’

Nobody responded at first; Moss made no move.
He’s bluffing,
Remembrance decided, staring at the man’s disfigured features.
He knows what’d happen to us all if he tried to do anything.

Remembrance slowly pushed the barrel of his shotgun deeper into the maul-worm’s flesh. Almost immediately another tremor, worse this time, sent the platform trembling beneath them.

‘I meant it, Alex. Call him off

Bourdain, pale and clearly terrified, stepped closer. ‘Hugh! Move away. Now!’

Out of the corner of his eye, Remembrance saw Moss take a reluctant step backwards. The immense surreality of the situation came to him: two species trapped inside a third, and caught in a stand-off. He found himself having to constantly shift his attention between the five individuals facing him – Honeydew, Bourdain, Moss, and the two guards – all waiting for the moment they could safely disarm and kill him.

One against five – or six, if you included the maul-worm.

‘You’re right,’ Bourdain said. ‘I’m a fugitive. So let Honeydew here arrest me.’

‘So your friends in Immortal Light can help you disappear? I don’t think so.
This
way we keep it public and in the open. It’s obvious to half of Darkwater there’s a major security operation taking place up here. And besides, my Queen desires answers. Answers that I intend to find for her.’

‘All right, I understand,’ Bourdain replied, a wheedling tone in his voice. ‘Moss, put your knife away. Rachel, Toby, I want you to put your guns down on the table. Remembrance here is going to place us under arrest. I—’

Bourdain’s gaze flicked past Remembrance and towards Moss with an expression of alarm. Remembrance turned just in time to see Moss slashing towards him with the blade. Remembrance hit the ground and rolled, his shotgun coming free at the same time, but not before he felt the blade slice across the flesh that separated his upper set of wings.

He chittered in pain and felt his finger tighten around the trigger, sending two bullets up into the roof of the maul-worm’s gullet.

The maul-worm screamed.

The sound began far away as a raw and breathy escalation that soon erupted into a hurricane of rotten-meat stench from the deepest recesses of the monster’s innards. Remembrance felt a horrified fascination as a wave of peristaltic motion rushed towards them from deeper within the mountainside, heaving the platform up beneath them and sending tables and glow-globes flying.

Remembrance glimpsed Moss’s knife where it had slipped between two of the slats, its blade still active and vibrating, slowly sinking out of sight as it dug a deep raw wound in the floor of the maul-worm’s gullet, sending chunks of meat and blood spitting upwards in the process. He looked around wildly, but there was no sign of Moss. He was gone.

He’d seen the look on Bourdain’s face when Moss had slashed him. That hadn’t been part of their plan; Remembrance felt sure of it. For some reason, Moss had
wanted
him to pull the trigger. He felt sure of it.

As for Bourdain and the two bodyguards, they were desperately trying to pick their way through the wreckage of the platform, which had shattered beneath them. Honey dew had already taken flight, flapping upwards and slaloming erratically from side to side as he tried to work out which way the exit lay. What little light there was now flickered and danced wildly as the few surviving glow-globes rolled and bounced across the floor of the cave.

Remembrance reached down and retrieved Moss’s vibrating knife before it sank completely out of sight. He re-sheathed his shotgun onto his harness and himself took flight, pushing upwards despite the thinness of the damp meaty air, and narrowly avoided a slender tentacle that shot down from the roof of the cave and tried to wrap itself around his neck. He tore himself away from it in a panic and most of the tentacle came with him, before unravelling itself and falling to the ground below.

The ceiling dropped suddenly and Remembrance swooped lower in his panicked flight, grabbing hold of one of the metal poles that dotted the maul-worm’s interior. He saw Tobias Mazower stumble and fall as the maul-worm’s gullet rippled crazily under him. The man started crawling towards the exit, just as another long tentacle shot down, snagging the bodyguard around the ankle. It began pulling him upwards and he screamed as it tugged at him, but after a moment the tentacle released him.

Mazower scrambled away in terror, but Remembrance could see that the bodyguard had become disoriented by the flickering shadows, and was moving away from the exit rather than towards it. The interior of the restaurant was becoming noticeably narrower as the worm’s body began constricting.

As Remembrance watched, another wave of peristaltic motion – much more violent this time – rolled out of the darkness and flipped Mazower upwards and backwards, before carrying him out of sight, and deep into those moist, inky depths . . .

A shot whined past Remembrance’s head, almost catching him in one wing. He glided over to another pole and saw Bourdain taking unsteady aim as he and Rachel Kapur tried to fight their way on towards the monster’s mouth. Then the floor of the maul-worm’s gullet rose up beneath him, and he almost lost his grip on his gun.