The Final Nexus – Chapter Eleven

The Final Nexus – Chapter Eleven

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I woke up next morning to see Xan propped up on one elbow looking at me.

“Are you awake yet?” he asked.

“Huh? No, not really. Why do…”

He threw himself on top of me.

“Warriors have to wake up and be ready for action straight away,” he told me, doing his best to pin me down. “If we’re attacked in camp you have to be able to react immediately.”

“But we’re not in camp,” I argued, doing my best to push him off me.

“Doesn’t matter. You have to be able to wake up and fight straight away.”

We struggled for several seconds, but I couldn’t shift him, and the way his body was rubbing against mine had an inevitable effect on me.

“Aha!” he said, grinning. “Part of you is awake, at least!”

He grabbed hold of me and twisted sharply, and I gasped, dragged his hand away and renewed my efforts to displace him. And at that point he bit my shoulder. It was just a little nip, but it came as a shock, all the same. For a moment I froze, and that allowed him to grab hold of me again, and this time he kept hold when I tried to pull his arm away. So I decided to use his tactics: his head was still against my shoulder, so I bit him on the neck.

This didn’t shift him. Instead he began to rub my erection, and although I kept trying to move him I simply couldn’t do anything. In what seemed like no time at all he pulled me over the edge and I ejaculated messily.

“Can’t you control yourself better than that?” he asked, taking advantage of my recovery time by sitting on my chest with his knees on each side of my head. “Or do you find me so completely irresistible?”

At that moment I have to say that he did look good: his muscular body had a sheen of sweat, so that his long hair was clinging to it, and his erection was only a few inches in front of my face. So I grabbed his buttocks and pulled him forwards, opening my mouth to receive him, and once he was inside I set to work. And apparently his control wasn’t a lot better than mine, because it took less than a minute before I got a mouthful.

When it was over he lay back down beside me, rolled on top of me again and pulled the covers back over us.

“You don’t normally do it like that, do you?” he asked.

“Not exactly, no.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, actually. It was certainly different: normally with Stefan it’s sort of slow and gentle. With you it was like all-in wrestling with sex on the top.”

“I can do slow and gentle too,” he assured me. “Perhaps next time we’ll do it your way. But when I saw you this morning I just couldn’t resist. Once we’ve built your muscles up a bit you’re going to be absolutely stunning.”

That was an adjective I’m pretty sure nobody had ever applied to me before, not even Stefan, and I wondered if Xan had a problem with his eyes. But he seemed completely sincere. And then he leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on my cheek.

“Come on,” he said, throwing the covers back and getting out of bed. “I think we need a shower.”

He helped me up and we went and had a shower, and afterwards we dressed in the riding kit. I wasn’t sure that green was really my colour, but Xan assured me that I looked good, and certainly he did. He got me to help him to tie up his hair and then took me to breakfast, although I have to say that I wasn’t too impressed with the porridge. The tea was good, though.

After breakfast we went down to the stable. Xan showed me how to put the saddle and bridle on my horse, kitted me out with a helmet – a plain one, rather than the ornate fur and spike affair the troop normally wore – and then got his own horse ready, but before we could leave the rest of the troop appeared.

“So,” said Vanya, grinning in my direction, “is he any good, Xan?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean! You two weren’t exactly being subtle about it, and I am only in the next cubicle, you know.”

“Oh, that,” said Xan, not sounding remotely embarrassed, though I must have been blushing like a tomato: I’d completely forgotten about the lack of walls in the accommodation area. “Yes, he’s very good – a lot better than you, anyway.”

“Then he must be truly amazing. Next time you’ll have to invite me to join in.”

“You’ll be lucky – he’s mine!”

At that point I caught sight of Sam looking at me, and immediately I wanted the ground to swallow me up. What must he be thinking, I thought. But perhaps he’d been taking lessons from Dec, because he seemed to know what I was thinking. He came over to me and gave me a quick hug.

“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s different here: doing… you know, stuff… it’s more of a game to them. And it is fun – I’ve had naked wrestling matches with Vanya, and it’s exciting. But I don’t think it means anything – it’s just having fun. It’s not like the things you and I did in the attic.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said. “Thanks, Sam. I didn’t want you to think… well, that I was doing stuff behind your back, or anything.”

He hugged me again and went to saddle his horse, and Xan came over and showed me how to get aboard mine, holding her head while I tried not to make a fool of myself in front of the whole troop. And to my amazement I actually managed to get into the saddle at the first attempt.

“Remember, Jake,” said Vanya, “there’s one secret to being a good rider.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Don’t fall off!”

Xan got onto his horse and gave me a quick explanation of the use of the reins, heels and knees and then led the way down the ramp and into the outside world. And my horse seemed happy to follow his.

Once we were outside we set off at a gentle walk, heading back the way the crawler had come, since it seemed unlikely we would run into trouble that way. At first I thought riding was easy, and then after a little while I started to think that it was a bit uncomfortable, having your legs spread like that for long periods at a time. And when we started moving at anything faster than a walk it got more uncomfortable still, so that by the time we finally got back to the crawler after a couple of hours I’d reached the stage where I never wanted to see another horse again for the rest of my life.

“Don’t worry,” Xan assured me. “You get used to it. A little walk out every day and you’ll soon adjust. Can you dismount on your own?”

I could, but I almost fell over on landing because my legs felt distinctly wobbly.

Next came a lesson in caring for the horse and the tack after a ride – there was a sort of ground crew that could help with that, but Xan said he preferred to look after his own horse as much as possible - and by the time that was over I felt I could at least walk again. But the idea of having to go through this torture every day was not an attractive one, and I found it hard to believe that I would actually get used to it, whatever Xan said.

Next we went to the medical centre to see how Dec was doing. We found him enclosed from the shoulders down in what looked like a large coffin that was trailing wires in all directions. He also had a helmet on his head, and was plainly not conscious.

“How long?” Xan asked the medic.

“He should be done by mid-afternoon,” the medic told us. “I can’t see any problems at this point, but obviously we’ll find out later today.”

I was just happy to see that he was still alive: I’d been worrying about it ever since Sam had raised the question of whether this society practised euthanasia on disabled people.

After lunch Xan took me up to Deck One, which was where I was apparently going to be stationed. This looked quite a lot like the main control room on the deck below, although the window here was smaller and the various computer stations were mostly around the walls, rather than at forward-facing desks. He introduced me to the man in charge of the weaponry, whose name was Pavel, and then said that he was going to take a spotter out, adding, confusingly, “I’ll be in the back room. Come through when Pavel has finished with you.”

“I don’t know how much Xan has told you,” Pavel began, “but this is the one part of the computer system that uses active human input. The system can function without input, but it can only put out a suppressing fire. It needs its human operator to identify and select targets, and that’s where you come in. We’re training you on the main armament because if you can manage that successfully you’ll have no problems with the secondary weapons. This is where you sit.”

He showed me to a desk towards the back of the room.

“Put the helmet on,” he said, once I was seated. “Keep your head still while you’re doing it and the connections will line up automatically.”

I was a bit worried about this: that bit about wires going into my brain was a little disconcerting, to say the least. But the helmet went on smoothly and when I flicked the switch on the side I barely felt the connections being made. The screen in front of me lit up and so did the keyboard in front of it, while a panel in the desk opened and a joystick emerged. This was beginning to look exactly like a video game, and I was starting to wish I’d spent more time using Godfrey’s console instead of sitting in the attic reading a book.

“You’ve got direct contact with the spotters,” Pavel told me. “There are speakers in the helmet and a microphone at the front. They’ll be able to identify targets for you. Of course the main armament is primarily for use against either fortified positions or enemy crawlers, but it can also be used against smaller armoured vehicles. Once you have the location of your target it’s mainly a question of point and shoot, but there’s a targeting box on the screen to help you, along with distances and elevation.

“In a moment I’ll put it in training mode and you’ll see for yourself, but first I should warn you that you’ll be aware of things happening in your head that you have no control over. Just ignore it. That’ll be difficult at first, but in a few days’ time you’ll hardly notice. In this case the computer will be using your brain to calculate a firing solution based on a lot of information coming from elsewhere: our speed, wind speed and direction, weather conditions, intervening terrain and so on. Just try to pretend it isn’t happening. Once you're properly attuned to it you'll be able to use that information almost subconsciously to operate the weapon more quickly and effectively than an unconnected operator could, though it generally takes a while to reach that stage.

“Alright, I’m going to deploy the weapon and put the machine into training mode. Ready?”

He hit a large red button at the bottom of the screen and I was aware of a rumbling noise over my head, and then he hit a couple more switches.

“Warning!” said a voice in my head. “You are in training mode. The weapon will not be fired. To exit training mode, hit Expand and input your crew ID.”

“What’s my crew ID?” I asked.

“We haven’t given you one yet. I’ll arrange it later today,” said Pavel. “Now, in a moment I’ll run a basic targeting scenario. All you have to do is to hit the enemy crawler.”

He typed a couple of words into the computer and hit the equivalent of a return key, and of course what followed was a complete and utter shambles.

First, a voice in my ear announced “Enemy crawler spotted at 2.75 li, direction north-north-west, travelling east at approximately 300 chi per minute.”

Well, I understood ‘north-north-west’ but I didn’t seem to have a compass on the screen and so I had no idea which way we were heading or which way was north. And the rest of the message was gibberish. How far was a ‘li’? I moved the joystick to the left, intending just to rotate until something appeared on the screen, and I was immediately distracted by what seemed to be a screenful of numbers unrolling behind my eyes and a soft whisper of not-quite comprehensible words in my ears.

I spun the joystick in what I thought was a complete circle without seeing anything on the screen.

“Target now heading south-south-east, speed increasing to 500 chi per minute,” said the voice. “Enemy main armament deployed. Incoming fire. Minor damage to left forward tracks.”

I shoved the joystick in the other direction, but still I couldn’t see anything, and the voice in my ear announced, “Incoming fire. Major damage to front central armour. Secondary damage to main armament. Left side weapon unserviceable.”

Finally I thought I saw something on the screen, but before I could line it up that bloody voice told me that there was more incoming fire, that the right-hand weapon was now also unserviceable, that Deck One had been severely damaged and that I was dead.

“Don’t worry,” said Pavel. “That usually happens the first time. What was the main problem?”

“I didn’t have a compass, so I couldn’t see which way to aim,” I said.

“You have a real compass on the desk, under this panel,” he told me, sliding a cover to one side. “That’s the back-up in case the system is damaged. And there’s an on-screen one too, provided that you remember to turn it on. You can set up the screen to show as much or as little information as you like. Here’s the operator’s manual – read the summary on Page 25 and get things set up the way you want, and then we’ll run the simulation again.”

The lesson lasted most of the afternoon, and by the time Pavel told me to call it a day I had a distinct headache, mainly caused by all the stuff going on in my head that I had no control over. I took the helmet off, picked up the manual – I intended reading it through before the next session – and walked through to the back room, where I found Xan with a helmet on his head, also sitting at a screen and with a joystick in his hand.

“Hello, Jake,” he said, looking up. “Are you finished?”

“We’re all finished, thanks to me,” I said. “The entire crawler got blown up about six times, mainly because I can’t shoot quickly enough. And once I even managed to shoot our crawler myself. You know how the weapons can be depressed to fire downwards at targets close to the crawler? Well, there’s an alarm that sounds to warn you if the weapon is pointing downwards at the crawler itself, only I didn’t realise what it meant and so I overruled the failsafe device and fired anyway, and according to the simulation I blew up the front of Deck One.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll come,” he said. “The first time I flew a spotter I crashed it less than fifty chi from the crawler. It’s just practice. Anyway, have a seat while I bring this one in.”

I sat down next to him, looking at his screen, which was showing the scene from a flying machine of some sort: right now it was showing a lot of greenery without too many features. But then the crawler came into view. The machine flew along the side of it and then approached it from the rear, passing through a rectangular opening. Xan hit four or five keys on his computer, parked the joystick back inside the desk, flicked the switch on the side of his helmet and removed it, stowing it on the shelf next to the desk.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you what our spotters look like.”

He took me through a door into what I suppose could be described as a miniature hanger. On each side of the room were racks containing a number of model aircraft, twin-engined craft with a wingspan of a little over a metre, and at the far end were three rectangular holes in the outside wall. A couple of crew members were busy extracting one of the small aircraft from a sort of elasticated net in front of one of the openings.

“We’ve got a couple of other types, but these are the ones we use most of the time,” Xan told me. “They have a camera, a microphone, a weapon and an explosive charge around the nose, so in extreme situations we can use them as flying bombs. But we try not to do that – they take a while to build, and the cameras in particular are hard to come by. When I’m plugged into it I can see exactly what the camera sees – I don’t actually need to have my screen turned on, even. In a battle these are our eyes and ears… anyway, you don’t look too good. Let’s go and relax for a bit before supper.”

He took me back downstairs, but before we went back to the accommodation room he took me to a small office on Deck Three and spoke quietly to the woman inside. She went into a back room and returned a couple of minutes later with a cup of what I thought was tea.

“Drink this,” said Xan, handing it to me.

“What is it?”

“Willow bark extract. It’ll get rid of your headache.”

It didn’t taste great, but I drank it, and then we went back to Xan’s cubicle and I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. But I didn’t get much chance to recover, because less than ten minutes later someone came into the room. I recognised him as one of Xan’s band, though that was mainly because he was still wearing his riding kit.

“What is it, Miro?” asked Xan.

“I was just checking to see if Jake was here,” said the rider. “His friend was looking for him.”

“Sam?” I asked, sitting up. “Why? What’s wrong?”

And at that point someone followed the rider into the room, but it wasn’t Sam: it was Dec. And he was walking.

In an instant my headache was forgotten and I jumped to my feet and ran to greet him. Okay, I suppose I should have worked this out already: if ‘complete reconstruction’ for me had meant fixing my eyes, then for Declan it would logically mean fixing his left arm and leg. But somehow that had passed me by.

I threw my arms around him and hugged him hard, and he returned it, using both arms for the first time.

“You look different,” he said, looking into my face. “I suppose I’m used to having to look up at you. Now I can look you in the eyes.”

“It might be that I’m not wearing glasses any more,” I pointed out. “They fixed my eyes like they seem to have fixed your arm and leg. Is it really completely working now?”

“More or less. Miroslav tells me I’ll need physiotherapy for a few more days to finish building the muscles up, but they did most of it while I was asleep. And they seem to have taught me how to speak the language while I was asleep, too. Hey, where’s Sam? I’ll actually be able to talk to him properly now, provided he’s been given the language, too. He has, hasn’t he?”

“We all have. I’m not sure where he is, though – I’ve been up on the top deck learning how not to fire the main armament, so I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

“Yes, apparently they want me to help run the main computer, or something like that. I don’t quite understand it. Perhaps we can go somewhere quiet and you can tell me about it?”

“There aren’t too many quiet places on board, I don’t think. Perhaps we’ll be able to sit together at supper. Where are you going to be staying?”

“With me, obviously,” put in the rider. “He’s my student, after all.”

I looked at him properly for the first time. He didn’t have either Xan’s muscular perfection or Vanya’s exotic beauty – in fact he looked quite ordinary, with untidy light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was about my height and looked about the same age. The one distinguishing feature he had was a two-inch scar that ran across his right cheek, parallel to his jawbone. It had healed cleanly, but was still visible. Other than that he looked like any other fourteen-year-old.

“So you’re in this room?” I asked him.

“Of course.”

“Jake,” said Xan, “how would you like it if I went and slept with Vanya tonight? That way you, Sam and… I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name?”

“Declan,” supplied Dec.

“Right. Sorry. Anyway, that way the three of you could sleep here. I’m pretty sure the bed is big enough, and that way you’ll get a chance to have a proper talk to each other and explain to Declan where he is and what’s going on – some of it, anyway.”

“Thanks, Xan. I think we’d like that.”

Dec was certainly nodding, and I was sure Sam wouldn’t want to miss out, either.

“We’ll do that, then. Miro, would you like to see if you can find Vanya? We can look after Declan for a bit.”

The rider nodded and left, and Xan offered Dec one of the chairs, while he and I sat on the sofa.

“So I’m guessing you’ve never ridden a horse,” said Xan.

“Obviously not. Why, will I be able to here?”

“Yes, you will – at least, you will unless the general plans to keep you permanently hooked up to the Central System, and I’ll do my best to make sure he doesn’t do that. You’ll need fresh air and exercise, and riding with my band will certainly give you that.”

“It’ll give you painful thighs, too,” I warned him.

“Only at first. In a week’s time even a big girly like Jake will stop complaining and start enjoying it.”

We started telling Dec a bit about the history of the Horde, but we hadn’t got far before the rider came back with Vanya and Sam. And when Dec stood up to greet Sam the look on Sam’s face was priceless. The two of them went into a prolonged hug, and after a few seconds of this Xan said tactfully, ”We’ll leave you to talk. Supper’s in half an hour – don’t be late.”

“And don’t forget that the general wants to see you after supper, Dec,” added the rider with the scar.

“Don’t worry, Miroslav, I’ll be ready.”

“You can call me Miro. Everyone else in the band does.”

“Right.”

Xan and his two colleagues left, and I went and joined the hug: I was feeling left out. And for the next half hour we did our best to bring Dec up to date. Sam was a lot more enthusiastic about riding than I was, assuring Dec that he’d love it and not mentioning sore bums or legs at all.

“And I’m working in Communications,” Sam added. “To start with they were just going to use me as a processor – that’s where you just sit and let the machine use your brain – but then they saw I was interested in the radio system, and now they’re going to train me as a radio operator.”

“’Let the machine use your brain’?” queried Dec. “What are you talking about?”

And that discussion kept us going until supper and right through the meal. Afterwards Miro took Dec away to meet the general, while Xan took me to a small gym and started teaching me martial arts. The one in use here seemed to be a combination of judo and karate, with some kick-boxing thrown in – in fact, it was one of those systems where pretty much anything goes. Obviously I was completely hopeless at it, but Xan said that he’d probably be able to train me up fairly well, as long as I trained regularly. And, as it hurt a bit less than riding a horse, I agreed to do so.

Once we got back to our quarters Xan decided to postpone the alcoholic card game for a couple of days: apparently Idiot works best with four, and now we had Dec with us we’d have to learn another game. Besides, he said, he was sure we still had plenty to talk about. So he collected a change of clothes for the morning and then left me to it.

The other two returned shortly afterwards: Sam had been at the shooting range with Vanya, and Dec had of course been visiting the general.

“There’s been a bit of a change of plan,” he told us as we got ready for bed. “Now that he’s spoken to me he thinks I’ll be useful as a planner. He wants to teach me a bit about military tactics and then use me to help direct battles. Obviously I told him I’ve never done anything like that before, but he thinks I’ll see possibilities others might miss. He seems to think I’m super-brainy, or something.”

“Well, compared to the rest of us, you are,” I pointed out. “From what Harlan told me, the reason the gods, or the extra-terrestrials, whoever it was, created your people in the first place was to use your superior intelligence to stop everyone else from killing each other.”

“I always thought that was just a story,” he said, getting into bed. “I’ve never felt particularly clever, especially when I was messing up my lessons all the time.”

“Trust me, you are,” I said, getting in next to him. Sam turned out the light and came and lay down on Dec’s other side. “So it sounds as though they think you’re officer material. Who knows, maybe you’ll be General Lee yourself in a few years’ time.”

And of course then I had to explain how the succession worked, and Dec thought that was really interesting.

“That would be amazing,” he said. “Except… are we going to stay here, Jake? I mean, I know you want to get back to your own world…”

“Yes I do, but I don’t think I can risk going back to Stonehenge. And I can’t really expect the general to take me all the way back to Eastern France to look for another portal, either. Of course, if they manage to open a portal themselves it’ll be different: probably then I will try to find my way home again. But that might take ages. We’re safe enough from Aarnist here – at least, we will be if we get our chips removed. We’ll have to get the medics to do that for us as soon as we can. So I can’t see any reason for us to leave just yet… and of course, even if they do open a portal, you two don’t have to come with me. I think you’d both be happy to stay here, wouldn’t you?”

“I would, but if you go I’m still coming with you,” said Sam, firmly.

“Me, too… at least… except I sort of owe these people now,” said Dec. “They’ve given me a normal body, and I’d feel a bit bad if I didn’t give them something in return. If it takes them a while to develop a portal and we get a chance to help run their computers and stuff for a few weeks first I wouldn’t feel so bad about leaving. But I don’t want to abandon you either, Jake: if it hadn’t been for you I’d still be stuck in my chair in Sarutaale. So if you go I’ll come with you. Of course, once you’re safely back home I suppose I could always come back here again…”

“That depends how stable the portals are,” I warned him.

“I’ll risk it. I still can’t believe that I can actually walk. Their medical equipment is really amazing: apparently they can repair quite serious damage to everything except for major organs. So as long as you’re still alive when they wire you up, and provided that there’s no damage to the brain, they can virtually restore you to full working order. Better than the original, in fact, because they say both my arms will be stronger than my right arm was before. Isn’t this an incredible place?”

“I like the fact that we all speak the same language now,” said Sam. “It was frustrating not being able to talk to you before. I wanted to tell you how brave I thought you were, for a start: even when you knew they wanted to kill you back at the farm you never panicked or anything. You just stayed calm and never looked scared at all.”

“I was, though,” Dec told him. “To be honest I thought Jake was braver than me, because he could have gone home as soon as he found out what was happening. There was nothing to stop him. But he stayed because he wouldn’t leave me on my own. And really you were braver than either of us: you were prepared to give up your whole life and go blindly into a world you knew nothing about just so that you could help me, who you’d only known a few days, to escape. That’s real bravery, Sam.”

He wriggled an arm underneath Sam’s body and hugged him, and then he did the same thing to me.

“I like being able to hug you both at once,” he said. “I wonder what else I can do to two people at once that I couldn’t before?”

It didn’t take him very long to think of something, and he actually did it pretty well. I was on his left and so had to make do with his weaker hand, but it still felt good and it still achieved the desired result. Afterwards Sam and I returned the favour between us, and when we’d finished I got out of bed long enough to find a cloth to wipe us down with, and then I got back in, snuggled up to Dec once more and soon fell asleep.

Next morning I went with him when he went back to the medical centre for his physiotherapy, and while I was there I arranged for them to remove our chips. The medic said it should be a simple procedure and booked us in for early that afternoon, and that was another important step taken: at least now if I managed to find my way back to my own world Aarnist wouldn’t be able to trace me.

I spent that morning suffering another session of torture on horseback and the rest of the afternoon improving my gunnery – and it actually did seem to be improving, though in view of my performance the previous day that wasn’t hard – and working on my martial arts. And that set the pattern for the next week or so, and by the end of it the horse-riding wasn’t hurting so much, my gunnery had improved to the point that I was now destroying the enemy crawler before it destroyed us almost every time, and my martial arts was still rubbish, but I suppose marginally less so than it had been at the start.

In the second week I rode out with the band for the first time, and although we only went on a gentle patrol a couple of miles – or about six li, according to Xan – ahead of the crawler I managed to keep up with the rest of the band and didn’t fall off once, which I thought was quite an achievement. He also started teaching me archery and trying to improve my skills with a rifle, which I had thought was a lost cause but which turned out to be rather less disastrous than I had expected.

By now Dec was also learning to ride, and in the third week he also rode out with the rest of us. I’d got to know the rest of the band by this stage: I’d been surprised to discover that three of them were girls (it was impossible to tell when they were wearing their armour and helmets), though they rode at least as well as the boys and could fight pretty well, too, as I discovered when Ilse slaughtered me at martial arts. The girls shared our quarters, and sometimes shared their beds with other members of the band, too: most of the boys were straight, and one of them was the current partner of Marie, the prettiest of the girls. But the relationship didn’t seem to cause any tensions in the band, any more than did the one between me and Xan.

Once I was considered competent on the main armament I did a little more training on the secondary weapons and was then added to the crew rota. Sam was learning about the radio systems and had a shift already, and Dec was spending a lot of time with the general, Valeriya and the other senior officers, poring over maps and reading accounts of past battles. And by the end of March, five weeks or so after our arrival, all three of us were feeling completely settled.

During this period we hadn’t seen any sign of an Arvelan probe – Xan had warned his fellow spotters to be on the lookout for them – and nor had we discovered where General Khan’s crawler might be. We’d come across a couple of small settlements, neither of which had shown any wish to fight, and we had settled for trading animals with them, rather than assimilating them into our crew.

And then, just when I was starting to think that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if I had to spend the rest of my life here, I received a summons from the general.

“The Central System seems to have cracked the portal problem,” he told me. “There doesn’t seem to be anything in your memories about how to choose a world to aim for, but the computer has been able to extrapolate enough information to find a way somewhere. We’re fairly sure we will be able to open a portal fairly soon, even if we don’t know exactly where it will take us.

“Now, obviously we’re not going to take the crawler through, even if we do manage to make a large enough opening: we might as well make use of the resources of this country first. But we do want to send a scouting party through, and because you’re experienced in visiting other worlds and can speak a number of languages, we want you to lead it. Of course we’ll send a spotter through first, though we’re not sure if we’ll be able to receive broadcasts from it once it’s gone through.”

“Probably not,”’ I said. “The Arvelans set up their receiving station right by the portal, but it would probably work better if you could set up a station just on the other side of the portal instead. And… look, there are some worlds you really don’t want to visit. If I suggest that we leave a world alone, will you accept that?”

“You’re the expert. That’s why I want you in charge of this. If you think it’s not safe, we won’t go through.”

“Thank you. In that case I’ll be glad to help. You do know that you need somewhere where the geography is the same on both sides?”

“If it was in your memory, we know about it,” he assured me.

I didn’t really like that idea: there were a lot of things in my memory that I’d prefer to keep private. Still, this didn’t seem to be the sort of society that would prosecute you for thought crimes, and nor had I seen any sign that anyone here was likely to pass judgement on someone else’s sex life, even if it didn’t conform to what might be thought of as ‘normal’ behaviour.

A couple of days later we reached a fairly large river. From the mainly north-easterly direction in which we’d been travelling – unless I was misreading the compass on my targeting system again – I guessed that it could be the Thames, though in the absence of any other landmarks it was hard to be certain. The crawler stopped not too far from the river and a number of spotters and horse patrols were sent out to make sure that we were unlikely to be attacked while we were carrying out the attempt to open the first portal.

Xan’s band was not out on patrol because we were on the rota for inside duty at the time, although I wasn’t at my post on Deck One: instead I was in the main control room, talking to the general about exploring beyond the portal. But we were interrupted five minutes later by one of the communications team.

“We have a sighting on an enemy crawler,” he announced. “About fifteen li south-east of here. The spotter is just flying around to check the front, but it has to be Khan, unless someone else has managed to cross the Ditch since we did.”

“I don’t think any of the others were close enough to it to have got here this quickly,” said the general. “Sorry, Jake, it looks as if the portal will have to wait. Val, sound first alert. All band leaders and section heads to the conference room in ten minutes, please. Sanjay, tell the spotters to concentrate on the south-east quadrant and recall all horse patrols straight away.”

The communications man nodded and started to speak into his headset, and I looked for somewhere to sit down, because suddenly my legs felt wobbly: whatever else I might be, I was no soldier, and I had no wish to find myself in a real battle. I’d had one serious experience of that, fighting the Greys as we tried to hold Hub Two against them almost two years previously, and a couple of shorter skirmishes that I'd done my best to extricate us from as quickly as possible, and I had no desire to risk my life again. But somehow I thought I wasn’t going to get the choice: as Xan had told me when I had first arrived here, there were no passengers on the crawlers.

Xan arrived in the control room five minutes later. I presumed he’d been flying a spotter, but as a band leader he was needed for the general’s briefing, and so would have handed his spotter to another operator.

“Jake, you’d better go and get into riding uniform,” he told me. “Pass the word to the others to get ready and wait for me in the stable. They should do that automatically, but some of them haven’t been with us long enough to have experienced a real alert before. If you find anyone still in the accommodation area, get them changed and down to the stable and tell them I’ll join them as soon as I can. And if you’d like to get my uniform out ready for me, it would be helpful.”

Unenthusiastically I made my way down to the accommodation area, where I found half a dozen of the band getting their uniforms on: there was a klaxon somewhere sounding out a repeated pattern of three short beeps, and I assumed this was the first alert that the general had mentioned. I passed on Xan’s message and went to our cubicle, where I drew the curtain and sat on one of the chairs, trying to work out if I could get out of this somehow – after all, I wasn’t going to make any difference at all in a battle, though I supposed I could keep an enemy soldier occupied for the five seconds or so he would need to kill me… and at that thought my stomach turned over and I barely got to the toilet in time to throw up into it.

I wiped my mouth, stood up shakily and tried to pull myself together. Maybe I wouldn’t actually have to fight, I thought: maybe it would just be a patrol, and one where we didn’t meet the enemy. And in any case I would have some experienced fighters around me.

I went to my chest and took out the black trousers, the green Cossack shirt and the riding boots and slowly started to get changed. I realised there wasn’t really any choice: General Lee had given me a place to stay and had welcomed me into his Horde, providing me with a place where I would be safe from Aarnist, who I was still sure would send me back to Laztaale to be killed once he had no further use for me. I thought that I owed the general my loyalty. And now it looked as though we would be able to open our own portals, too, so all I had to do was to help drive Khan’s men off and then I would be able to go somewhere else, hopefully somewhere peaceful.

I finished getting changed, tightened my belt and then opened Xan’s chest and started to lay out his uniform, and I had just finished doing that when the curtain opened and he came in.

“Thanks, Jake,” he said, looking at his kit. “I’m glad you’re still here. Could you help me with my hair, please?”

He sat down and I stood behind him and helped him to tie his hair up, and then he got changed quickly.

“I’ve been meaning to say,” he said, tying the green and gold ribbon around his neck, “I got you one of these at last. Now you’re a proper member of the band.”

And he tied a similar ribbon around my neck.

“Don’t worry,” he said, quietly, and I realised that he didn’t need to be a Konjässi to see how scared I was. “Khan’s bunch are amateurs. We’ll murder them. Come on!” And he headed for the stables.

I followed, sure that I didn’t want to murder anyone, though I supposed it would be better than having them murder me.

We found the rest of the troop already saddled up and getting their breastplates and helmets on, and once we’d done the same Xan called the band together.

“This is just a patrol,” he told them. “Our job is to find out where Khan’s troops are, nothing more, so there’s unlikely to be a lot of fighting on this outing.”

One or two of the band groaned, but I suddenly felt a lot better.

“Of course, if we do come across an enemy patrol we’re entitled to take them on – a couple of prisoners to bring back for interrogation would be a mark of how good we are,” Xan went on, and now I didn’t feel quite so good. “I know almost half of you haven’t fought before…” (and that was hardly encouraging, either), “…but we’ve done plenty of training, and even a complete novice like Jake or Dec is better than any three of Khan’s rabble anyway.”

If that was true, Khan’s riders must all be blind or armless or about six years old, I thought.

“Alright, mount up, and let’s show Khan what he’s up against!” finished Xan.

So we mounted up and trotted off away from the crawler. I found myself riding next to Dec.

“I’m surprised the general wanted to risk letting you come on this jaunt,” I remarked. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping in Operations?”

He shrugged. “He says everyone starts out fighting outside the crawler. Unless you’ve fought on the ground you can’t understand what it’s like, and that makes it impossible to issue orders and make plans. I can’t say I like this, though – I’ve only had one drill session with the lance, so I hope I don’t actually have to use it. And I can’t even use my other skills out here, because everyone’s wearing helmets, including me. Somehow that feels even more scary than being perched on top of a horse for other people to shoot at.”

Oh, great, I thought: until now I’d never even considered the possibility of there being enemy infantry with rifles out there - so far I’d been thinking that it was only enemy lancers who would be trying to kill me.

Sam, on the other hand, seemed genuinely excited to be here. Of course, he was a far better rider than either me or Dec, but I still wondered how long his excitement would last if we actually had to fight.

We rode on for quite a while without seeing anyone, and the further we rode, the more my spirits rose: perhaps we would just be able to finish the patrol quietly and return to the crawler without having seen the enemy at all. But then Miroslav shouted “Look!” and pointed off to our right, and there on a slight rise a couple of hundred metres away I saw four horsemen sitting and looking straight at us.

“Come on!” ordered Xan, wheeling his horse to face them, and the rest of us followed as he increased speed to a canter. And I felt sick again, because it looked as if we were going to have to fight after all…

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It's probably fair to say that Jake is not this world's – or any other world's, come to that – greatest soldier. This could be an interesting experience...

Your comments are welcome as ever, and I'd like to be sure that the new address is working properly. Feel free to help me test it! It's gothmog@nyms.net

Copyright 2011: all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.

David Clarke