‘Even if your capabilities are anything like Rolleston’s -’ now there was a thought ‘- we still have enough resources here to compel you to help.’
‘An achievement you’d enjoy posthumously, well more posthumously,’ Mudge told him. Rannu was glancing around, assessing the area, readying himself. I should have been doing the same but I was too angry.
‘There are other ways you could help,’ Sharcroft said after quite a tense pause.
‘Such as?’ Rannu surprised me by asking.
‘We’re sending people with your capabilities into the colonies to gather intelligence on the Black Squadron’s forces.’
‘Deep-penetration recces?’ I asked despite myself, I was so surprised. I did the sums. Depending on how quickly they had got themselves sorted out they could have put boots on the ground and, allowing for the speed that information travels across interstellar distances, i.e. the speed of a ship, they could already have info from the colonies. They might actually know what’s going on there.
‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘Wouldn’t they be comms blind? They must have released Demiurge into the net in each of the colonial systems.’ That meant that any attempt to communicate would be compromised by a program with all of God’s power but none of its hands-off charm. If Demiurge worked then it meant that Rolleston, Cronin and their lackeys had control of every electronic system connected to the net. That meant just about every electronic system. This would make it difficult to operate, as even interpersonal communications would compromise them, let alone ship-to-ship or ship-to-surface comms.
‘According to our models Demiurge has indeed been released.’
‘Models?’ I demanded.
‘You haven’t heard back from anyone, have you?’ Rannu asked quietly.
‘Not as yet,’ Sharcroft confirmed.
‘Because it’s a fucking suicide mission,’ I spat.
These people made me sick. Come up with these bullshit ideas without any thought of the cost at the sharp end. Special forces operators weren’t cowards, far from it, but we deserved a chance at survival.
That aside, I was appalled at the sheer power of Demiurge and in turn the power handed over to Rolleston and Cronin. They had completely sewn up the four colonial systems.
‘Have you heard anything at all from the colonies since Rolleston escaped?’ Rannu again.
‘The only thing we’ve had from the colonies are ships that have come back with Demiurge in their systems,’ he said.
I was slightly suspicious of how open this guy was being with classified information. It was almost like he was sure that we were part of the team.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘God fought off Demiurge’s attack and the craft were destroyed.’
I was impressed. Good for you, Pagan and Morag. Then I started wondering where Morag was again.
‘Well there’s your answer then,’ I told him.
‘It’s not that simple,’ he replied. It never is, I thought. ‘God won because Demiurge only had the ships’ systems, with their limited memory and processing power, behind it. God had much larger resources.’
‘So Morag was right. Size is everything,’ Mudge cracked.
‘Time and a place, Mudge,’ I said. Mudge took the hint. ‘Well this is a fascinating insight into how much you’re fucking up the war effort but I… we’re retired. Best of luck.’ I turned to leave and then turned back. ‘How do we get out of here?’
‘Do you not want to get back at Rolleston?’ Sharcroft asked. His chair was rocking backwards and forwards on its six legs.
‘Do you even know where he is?’
‘We think-’
‘No! You’re fucking guessing. System maybe? Is he with the fleet? Is he on the ground? If so, which planet? Even if you know the planet they’re still fucking big things to search? Do you know exactly where he is? I’ll settle for a city. Because then all we’d have to do is infiltrate a planet, comms blind, fight our way past all his Themtech- enhanced super-troopers and then kill someone who can survive sustained fire from a Retributor. We’re retired.’
‘Assassination, sabotage, fostering resistance, getting the truth-’
‘Don’t say truth!’ I roared, completely losing it. Now everyone in the chamber not tranced in was staring at us. Many of the security types were fingering their weapons nervously. ‘It’s a fucking swear word in your mouth!’
‘Er… Jakob?’ Rannu said. I ignored him.
‘I said no and I mean go and fuck yourself!’
‘Hello, Jakob,’ Morag said. The blood or whatever I had in what was left of my veins froze. I turned to look at her.
She was wearing one of those ridiculous one-piece white suits. She was the only one who looked good in it. She was genuinely pretty, not attractive, not beautiful but pretty, though she looked older and harder than she had when I’d first met her not more than three months ago. She’d kept her hair short. It was spiky, almost boyish now. I tried not to wonder if it was a reaction to the forced femininity of her previous life as a rig prostitute.
I was so pleased to see her. I was so fucking angry to find her here.
Pagan was standing next to her. He looked ridiculous in his white one-piece. He also looked lost without his staff. It was as if they’d tried to rob him of his identity, his stature, by removing his neo-Druidic props and forcing him to dress in institutional chic.
I felt resentment towards him. This was what he’d wanted – influence over Morag. I realised that was irrational jealousy. I was being a prick. If it hadn’t been for Pagan, Crom would’ve won in the Dog’s Teeth.
Rannu nodded at them both. Morag smiled. She seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Another stab of jealousy.
‘Hi, Morag, Pagan,’ Mudge said, admittedly guardedly, but it was a good model of how to behave in the situation.
‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ I screamed at her. I mean Pagan was here too, but this was of course her fault. Besides, I’d never slept with Pagan.
‘Trying to help! What the fuck’s it got to do with you?!’ Her Dundonian accent became broader as, like me, she went from guarded neutral to screaming straight away.
‘He -’ I pointed at Sharcroft ‘- is the fucking enemy!’
‘Set a fox to catch a fox,’ Pagan said. Even he didn’t even sound like he believed it.
‘Shut up, Pagan!’ I shouted, barely glancing at him before turning back to a furious-looking Morag. ‘What are you trying to do? Ensure that everything we did was for nothing! Was meaningless?!’
I was aware of Pagan, Rannu and Mudge all shifting, making themselves comfortable.
‘Oh, that’s right. Don’t fucking bother finding out what we’re doing; just assume the worst and start shouting! Presumably at some point you’ll call me a whore!’
‘Oh look, everyone. Jakob and Morag are fighting,’ Mudge said. ‘Wow, that almost never happens.’
I glanced round. Everyone else was looking bored and irritated. The anger was starting to drain from me.
‘Now I know you’re both Scottish,’ Mudge continued, ‘but not all communication has to be conducted by screaming at each other.’
‘Well, as entertaining as this is, we have work to do. So if you’re not going to help you’ll have to leave,’ Sharcroft said.
‘Are you really going to turn your back on it all?’ Morag asked, more softly now. I could still hear the anger and the resolve in her voice.
‘Turn my back? That’s not fair. Don’t you see that this is just starting the whole mess all over again?’
‘Mr Douglas, do you not think that the Cabal, as you so prosaically called us, has agents on Earth? With your background can you not see the need for secrecy, for operational security?’ Sharcroft asked.
‘For petty empire-building?’ Mudge asked.
‘For fighting a war,’ Pagan said.
‘So God’s over and done with. On to the next thing, aye, Pagan? Drag Morag down with you because you
