Final Days

eyeing Saul. ‘Ten-second timer.’ He took hold of one end of the red strip. ‘You just pull it back, then run like hell.’

‘Let go of it and stand up slowly, or I’ll blow your head off your fucking shoulders, sir. That’s a promise.’

Brilliant light flooded in through the window. Saul saw a flare descending from above the treetops, illuminating the compound in lurid orange.

He turned back to Hanover just in time to see him yank at the strip of paper before hurling the incendiary at him.

Saul ducked back and fired his Cobra at the same time, but the shot went wide, digging chunks of plaster out of the ceiling. The incendiary bounced off his chest and fell to the floor.

Suddenly he was face to face with Hanover, and they struggled for a few moments as Saul tried to stop him reaching the entrance. Hanover kicked him in the knee, sending him sprawling on to the dust and scattered paper before ducking out of the office.

Saul heard the rattle of automatic gunfire somewhere close by.

He stumbled upright and followed Hanover back out of the office, just as it exploded with flames behind him, blowing out the window glass. He felt a wave of heat slam into the back of his neck and threw himself to one side of the doorway with a yell, desperate to put distance between himself and the inferno. When he next looked up, he found himself staring along the barrel of a snub-nosed Agnessa pistol.

‘Easy,’ said Saul, spreading his hands wide, and licking his lips. His Cobra lay just out of reach. ‘You’re the reason my uplink isn’t working, right?’

‘Some things are better without witnesses,’ Hanover replied, his nostrils dilating. He stepped slightly to the side and kicked Saul’s rifle back inside the blazing office. Shouts and more gunfire echoed through the compound outside.

‘Maybe you should tell me just what’s going on,’ Saul replied, keeping his voice even.

‘I already explained myself.’

‘And I don’t know what you were talking about. You said you were a scapegoat, but a scapegoat for what?’

Hanover regarded him with obvious disbelief. ‘You really don’t have any idea what’s going on, do you?’

‘I’m guessing you’re the reason that whoever we came looking for had enough advance warning to clear out before we arrived. If that hijacked shipment was ever here, it’s long gone by now, am I right?’

‘Let me give you some idea of how things really stand, Mr Dumont,’ said Hanover, the muscles in his neck rigid with anger. ‘We’re all dead men now. I’ve seen the world covered in ashes and, sometime very soon, the colonies – Kepler, Newton, all of them – are going to be on their own. They’re going to need strong leadership if they’re going to have any chance of surviving.’

Even from a few metres away, the heat was appalling. Smoke billowed along the ceiling of the corridor, until Hanover ducked in order to avoid it.

‘You’re talking about the separatists, right?’ Saul guessed.

Hanover laughed again, louder. ‘No.’ He swallowed, and for a moment Saul thought the man was about to start crying. He watched the barrel of the Agnessa wobble just centimetres away from his face.

‘No,’ Hanover repeated, regaining some of his composure. ‘Now listen to me carefully. Local government forces are storming tund. They’re going to take us into custody. Your job is to go back home with your tail between your legs, and deliver my message. Is that clear?’

He’s crazy, thought Saul, realizing in that moment that he might very well be about to die. He watched with numb fascination as Hanover took a firmer, two-handed grip on his weapon.

‘Sir?’

Hanover twisted around sharply to see Helena Bryant standing at the far end of the corridor, her face smudged and dirty, one hand clutching a wound in her shoulder. From the expression on her face, Saul guessed she’d been standing there long enough to hear most of what Hanover had said.

Hanover brought his pistol around and fired; the bullet caught her in the jaw, ripping bone and flesh away and exiting through the back of her skull. Helena staggered back against the side of the corridor, her body jerking once before slumping lifeless to the floor, like a discarded rag doll.

Hanover quickly brought the Agnessa round to bear on Saul again, motioning him to move back towards the stairwell. Saul complied, crouching to keep his face beneath the billowing smoke and almost stumbling over Helena’s corpse.

‘What’s going to happen to the rest of your people?’ asked Saul, as they entered the stairwell.

‘They’ll die honourably,’ said Hanover. ‘And if you don’t keep moving, you’ll be joining them.’

Saul looked through the window across the stairwell, and spotted yet more flares tumbling down, staining the buildings and surrounding jungle orange. He heard voices calling to each other in Mandarin, then realized the gunfire had ceased.

‘Go on,’ said Hanover, waggling his pistol towards the stairs. ‘Head on down.’

Saul didn’t move.

‘Didn’t you hear me? Get the hell down there,’ Hanover snapped. ‘And when – if – you get back home, take my advice: pack a bag, head for Florida, pick a colony and go there. Any damn one.’

‘I can’t leave until I get some real answers,’ Saul replied.

‘Don’t try me, son,’ Hanover grated. ‘I’ll shoot you, too, if I have to.’

‘But then who’ll deliver your message for you?’ Saul asked, noting there was now barely a metre separating him from the other man. ‘And what exactly is it that you think is going to happen?’