Thread War Read online

  “That’s fine,” Johnny said. “If you can keep Betty off our trail, we should be able to handle ourselves until we get to the factory.”

  “There are other factors—”

  “Of course there are,” Kesi muttered again, giving up on the grenades.

  Johnny sighed. “All right, what’s the trap?”

  SecCore’s head turned. “You are aware there is a trap?”

  “Why would this be easy?”

  The head froze, then unfroze. “I do not understand your kind. Why would you wish it to increase in difficulty?”

  “SecCore,” Shabaz said impatiently, “just tell us the danger.”

  “The final path to the hub you refer to as the factory is singular. We eliminated all other paths. The path is broken and undefended.”

  “Which means Vies,” Shabaz said grimly. She grabbed another power pack. “Great.”

  “There are other factors—”

  “Oh, would you just say it all at once?” Johnny protested. He would’ve rather had this conversation with Wobble, but the machine had gone still and Johnny didn’t want to mess with whatever preparations he was making.

  “Apologies. We left an attachment of Antis within the factory for security. They can be deactivated with a code.” The head froze. “However, there is a probability that time and the damage we have sustained from Betty will have caused the Antis to go rogue. In this scenario, their power must be cut from the central power source.”

  “And that would be in the centre of the factory, then?”

  “Correct.”

  “So Vies, then Antis,” Johnny said ruefully.

  “Par for the game,” Shabaz grinned.

  “Hey,” Krugar said, emerging from the back. “Are we looking to attack or defend?”

  “Looks like mostly attack,” Johnny said.

  “There are other—”

  “Oh come on!”

  The face formed into an expression of distaste. “The assault on Betty is not going well. This is uncomfortable to say. Should she counterattack and further access the Core, there is a possibility that she may become aware of the factory’s existence.”

  “A possibility or a probability?” Johnny said suspiciously.

  The head turned towards Krugar. “You should prepare for both.”

  “Fair enough.” The soldier disappeared into the back room. Five minutes later, he emerged with a large pack strapped across his shoulders.

  “Snakes, Krugar,” Onna said. “You’re going to carry all that?”

  “Nah, this ain’t bad. Better to have and not need than need and not have.” His head cocked to one side. “I’d kill for battle armour, though.”

  “All right,” Torres announced. “Everyone got everything they can carry? Let’s gear up. Wobble?”

  Immediately gears whirred and Wobble rose on his treads. “Affirmative. Let’s go-go for a ride.”

  “Vapin’ right,” Dillac said, heading for the door.

  “Hold on,” Johnny said. He rolled over to SecCore. “I just want to say this: I don’t like you. You’ve been responsible for killing skids. I don’t like what you did to Wobble. And if you’d figured this out sooner and accepted Betty’s help in the first place, the Thread might have been fixed by now.”

  The molded face remained silent. The entire time the security program had been here, the rows of Antis hadn’t moved once.

  “But,” Johnny said, “coming here took courage. Asking for help took courage. And apologizing to Wobble was the right thing to do. You keep Betty off our backs and we’ll get this factory going. And then we’ll come back and help you get the rest of the Thread right.”

  The face remained silent. Then: “That would be acceptable.”

  “Good,” Johnny said, turning away. “Then give her the gears.”

  As they streamed through the door, SecCore called out. “Wobble?”

  The machine hesitated by exit.

  “Make him admit the truth.”

  Now what the hole did that mean? Gears whirred, but Wobble didn’t speak before rising on his treads and going through the door.

  Johnny was the last one out. As he rolled past the exit, his trail-eye blinked. When it opened, SecCore and the Antis were gone. Johnny snorted derisively.

  The guy was still a jackhole.

  Then again, he’d given them hope. If he hadn’t showed up, Johnny had no idea what they might have done. And he’d accepted the offer of help with fixing the Thread, and that might have been even more impressive than Albert and Johnny working together.

  Al would have liked that, Johnny thought, and a pang ran through his stripe. The silver skid should be going with them. He was the one who’d remained in the Thread, for reasons just like this. Of course, Albert’s first course of action had been to search for the skid who eventually vaped him, the skid who still might cause it all to fall apart.

  “Hey you,” Shabaz said, rolling up after Wobble led them through an unbroken door.

  “Hey you,” he said back.

  “So, here we go again. Except, did we switch sides?”

  He chuckled. “I was just thinking about Betty. Who would have thought SecCore would become the reasonable one.”

  “So you think he meant what he said? At the end, that bit about accepting help even after this is done?”

  “I don’t know. But he seems like a pretty rigid program. That was the whole thing with Wobble, he couldn’t handle all the angles. I don’t even know if he’s capable of lying.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “What do you think he meant by: make him admit the truth?”

  “Beats me. Sounds like something Wobble would say.”

  “Or . . .”

  He gave her a look. “They’re not here.”

  “’Cause this is the kinda time that they tend to be.”

  “Shabaz,” he said, firmly. “I haven’t seen Peg or Bian. And if I do, I’ll let you know.”

  She let her gaze linger, then smiled. “Okay.” She rolled quiet for a moment, then said, “And the Albert thing? You going to be okay?”

  He chuckled. “I was just thinking about him too. About how he should be here. It’s weird . . . I miss him. I mean, I sort of did before, back in the sphere, but I never thought I’d remember him fondly.” He shook his stripe. “He was a jackhole, right? It wasn’t just me the entire time?”

  She took a little longer with the answer than he would have liked before she said, “Well, you both had your moments.” She nudged his tread. “What do you want me to say? You both saved my life.”

  “Yeah,” Johnny said, staring down the hallway, the golden lines quietly glowing their glow. “Nope,” he sighed after a minute. “Still weird.”

  They came to a travel hub. They moved through that one directly into a space with another, then repeated that several times. “Okay,” Torres muttered after the forth hub, “now I believe he’s keeping Betty occupied. Two days ago and that last one would have been filled with Antis.”

  They entered a long, wide hallway, wider than most of the corridors they’d seen before. It stood several skids in height. They rolled down that for a long time before Wobble pulled up. “I-We are near. Bao-Hai-Huu was right, that-that’s a lot of Kromans. Wobble.”

  Beyond the machine, the hallway stretched for another hundred metres before the first break in the gold began on the left. A little beyond that, another break on the right. A few sparks, here and there. After that, more and more breaks, the shattered golden lines of light fading into the darkness. And after that . . .

  “That is a lot of Kromans,” Torg murmured.

  The darkness seethed. Occasionally, a flash of gold, but mostly it seemed as if the hallway ended in a writhing wall of black.

  “Oh, this is snaze,” Dillac said, his eyes wide. “This is real not round, rhi.”

  “Okay,” Torres barked. “Wobble, in front. Me and Johnny right behind. Shabaz and Torg bring the rear. Everyone else, uh, Kesi and Dillac behind Johnny, Onna behind
me . . .” Her gaze fell on Krugar. She sighed. “Like I’ll tell you where to go.” Her lead-eye looked up the corridor and she sighed again. “You do this, right? This is your thing?”

  “Yes,” Krugar said, his rifle resting easily in his arms.

  “Okay,” Torres said, conceding. “What should we do?”

  “You were thinking right,” he said, stepping forward. He looked at Wobble. “How wide a path can you keep completely clear? I mean, total kill zone, nothing gets through.”

  Wobble’s gears whirred. “Three metres, sir, yes, sir.”

  That got a chuckle. “Good enough. Torres and Johnny take a corner of that area, but angle out a bit. The rest of us tuck into the space created. Shabaz, Torg, keep the rear.” He studied Onna for a moment. “It’s better if I can rove a bit, support where it’s needed. Can you hold down a side by yourself? We’ll keep it tight.”

  Onna bobbed an eye. “No problem.”

  “Good. Take the right; Dillac, Kesi take the left. Zen—”

  “I know,” he sighed. “I’m in the middle.”

  Another chuckle. “Pretty sure you’re going to get to fire the gun, kid. Shade towards Onna, but look everywhere. Hallway’s pretty tall, watch anything getting in from above.”

  “They’ll come up from the floor too,” Torres said.

  “Well, that’s great. All right, watch for that too. Stay tight, keep the perimeter.” He paused. “Now, this last thing’s the most important: we keep moving. We keep pace with Wobble and we never slow down. Someone stumbles, they catch up on their own. We lose more than one, rotate where I tell you. We lose me, go where Zen tells you, he’s got the best seat.”

  “Oh,” the Level One said, his stripe going pale.

  “I repeat: we never slow down. There’s no cover, no breaks in the enemy, so we run until we get there. Anyone got anything else to add?”

  “Forget bumping,” Johnny said. “It’ll just cause chaos. And you can take hits and survive. Think of your name and the colour of your stripes. They’re scary but they’re not tougher than we are.”

  “Damn straight,” Krugar said. He took a final survey, then nodded. “All right then. Wobble?”

  “Affirmative.” The machine rose from the floor and transformed into his knife form. “I-We bring the end.”

  “Heh,” Krugar said. They fell into formation, then followed Wobble towards the writhing dark.

  Wobble slowly accelerated until they were moving at a good pace. Not Johnny’s top pace, but fast enough. He glanced at Zen, impressed. The One was moving way faster than a One should have been able to tread. Then again, given the look on his face, he didn’t look like he was about to fall behind.

  They crossed the last hundred metres in three seconds flat. In the final second, Krugar roared, “Fire at will!” What seemed like a hundred weapons sprouted from Wobble and opened up as they plowed into the wall of Vies. Johnny opened fire and didn’t let up.

  When they’d assaulted the Core, it had been mad. But that had been more like the madness of the Slope, bobbing and weaving through the chaos, taking out any Vies or Antis that got past Betty. This was like Tag Box stuffed with every living skid and they all had swords. There were Vies everywhere. Johnny couldn’t possibly pick targets, they just mowed ahead. He could feel a biting in his treads, but he pushed it back and plowed on.

  He kept one eye angled up for Vies, but Krugar quickly dispatched anything that came from above. The soldier rode with the glowing stick pressed between his knees and the end of his rifle constantly spreading fire in short, controlled bursts: a burst here, a burst there, a burst there. Johnny tilted his upper-eye to check on Shabaz. Her stripes had swelled up half her body and her gun moved almost as fast as Krugar. Her skin was relatively clear.

  The same couldn’t be said for Zen, just in front of Shabaz. The Level One was emitting a constant roar, as if he could scare the Vies from touching him, and even though he hadn’t slowed at all, Johnny could see black splotches in the indigo skin.

  He had no idea how far they had to go.

  “Eye’s front, Johnny,” Krugar barked, and Johnny’s upper-eye snapped forward.

  Five minutes passed. Then ten. More. The biting in his treads never went away—it was as if the floor were made of Vies. They’d all selected high load weapons, but he still had to change power packs. Every time he did, he got tagged. He could handle a few hits—Torres, Torg, and Shabaz could do the same—but he was starting to feel nauseous. And it was only a matter of time until they took one hit too many, or one of the others got hit square.

  “Incoming,” Wobble cried. “Four square in twenty.”

  Twenty what? Johnny thought. Even seconds felt too long—Zen was starting to look strained, everyone had blooms on their skin.

  Suddenly, he heard a roar of pain. On the periphery of his vision, he saw Dillac eat a Vie full on. Before Johnny could even begin to swing the eye, the crimson skid’s skin turned black, swirling furiously as he roared again. For a second, Johnny thought Dillac might have it, then his left tread hitched and he fell out of formation, disappearing into the chaos.

  “Dillac!” Kesi screamed, starting to turn.

  “Stay in line!” Krugar roared, moving to cover.

  Wobble abruptly slowed and rotated. “Door,” he keened. “Run, run, run, I-We will hold!” His guns began firing back through the group; somehow, he didn’t hit anything but Vies.

  “Go,” Johnny yelled at Torres, shoving her through the door. Next was Zen, then Kesi, Torg and Shabaz. Krugar followed her and Johnny turned to follow him. “Wobble, we’re clear!”

  “Don’t you close that vaping door!”

  From the hurricane of Vies, Dillac stormed out of the darkness—his skin black, gun in each hand spitting fire, roaring with defiance and rage. “This . . . is . . . treadgrease!” he screamed as he hurled the guns away and dove past Wobble, who snapped the door shut behind him.

  Johnny had no idea what kind of space they’d entered; it was as black as it had been through the door. The only light came from Wobble and Krugar. They could have been back in the dead city again, for all he knew.

  Dillac staggered in the edge of the light, his expression wild. Johnny reached for him, but the skid stuck out an arm. “I got this, squi,” he said, and a wave of crimson bloomed against the darkness in his skin. Then it faded, and he sagged on his treads. “Nope,” he said weakly. “Need a hand.”

  Johnny lunged forward and dove in.

  It was like Brolin all over again: biting black everywhere. Except he heard screams of rage and defiance as he gunned for the core: “DILLAC! DILLAC! DILLAC!” Johnny broke through, stunned. He’d thought he’d experienced rage, but Dillac fought for his life like he was being ground against the spikes in Tunnel.

  A crimson wave pushed out against the black, then fell back towards the crimson core banded by six chocolate stripes. It pushed back out, but then fell in again, closer to the core. Dillac was losing strength fast. Johnny didn’t even think about what he was supposed to do. He just got behind the next wave and pushed. A surge of triumph and rage—snakes, had he ever been this angry? The wave plowed outwards with a final roar: “MY NAME IS DILLAC, SQUI!”

  Johnny reeled back from Dillac’s body, blinking his vision clear. Just in time to see an Anti emerge from the darkness.

  Are you kidding?

  The Anti aimed for Dillac, but before Johnny could move, a teal flash raced by and plowed into the Anti’s side. Kesi screamed—Johnny knew how bad that felt. The Anti bounced ten metres, turned—

  Wobble came out of his own light and blew the Anti to shreds.

  Johnny realized he could hear gunfire everywhere. “Wobble!” Torres cried. “Get to the centre and turn these things off. We’ll hold them here!”

  “Negatory,” Wobble said, fire-wheels spinning out from his carriage to pierce the darkness. “Follow-follow, I-We will—”

  “Dammit, Wobble, we don’t have time, you have to get—”

  “N
EGATORY!” For the first time ever, Johnny heard anger in Wobble’s voice. “You-You will follow. NOW!” Another wave of fire-wheels, then the machine turned and took off into the darkness. Johnny reached for Dillac, but he and Kesi were already racing after Wobble. Johnny followed, the last in the line. They didn’t go far, but Torg still got tagged and snarled in pain. Flashes of light popped in the darkness. How many vaping Antis did SecCore leave?!

  Wobble reached a door. “Inside,” he ordered in a voice that did not offer debate. He shoved Johnny in last.

  “Nice,” Torres breathed. “Go shut them down.”

  “Negatory,” Wobble said fiercely, spinning in the doorway. “I-I have another idea. Stay-stay here.” Then, remarkably, a grin split the knife-like shape. “Torg, you are kind of cute.”

  The doorway shut behind him. As the sound of thunder began to come from the other side, they all stared at it, stunned.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Well,” Torg said. “That was something.” Then he sagged on his treads. “Whoa,” he said. “Give us a minute.”

  Johnny could relate. Nausea from helping Dillac rolled under his skin. He could probably use a minute of his own to recover, but he wasn’t sure they had one. “Head count,” he yelled. “Tell me how you’re feeling. Krugar, I need to see everyone.”

  “Hold on.” A beam of light twisted, then widened out. “How’s that?”

  Fortunately, the room wasn’t that big; Johnny could see them all in the dim light. “Shabaz?” he said, trying to sound calm.

  “Like Torg,” she replied, her voice strained. “Need a second.” She groaned, but her skin cleared. “Okay, I’m good.”

  “Me too,” Torres said. “I’m sick as sugar, but good to go.”

  “I don’t think I am,” a voice said weakly. Zen’s indigo skin was almost all black and he was deflated on his treads.

  Him first then, Johnny thought. “Kesi, Onna, hold on.”

  “I’m fine,” Onna said, although she didn’t sound fine. Kesi just groaned.

  Hold on, Kesi, he thought, and reached for Zen. “Shabaz, get over here. Someone else needs to learn how to do this in case I ever can’t.” He peered at his girlfriend in the light, hoping it was just shadows he saw on her skin. “Can you do this? You don’t—”