Theme Planet (44 page)

His words echoed back, cold and
metallic, as if the life had been sucked from his words by the thick stone
walls.

Where to go?

He eyed a staircase.

Upwards, of course. That was
where power-hungry megalomaniacs tended to reside, be they scum-pushing drug
peddlers, idea-pushing scummy politicians, or scum-sucking miliporn warmongerers,
everybody with any idea of
power
seemed to gravitate upwards, as if
labouring under the mistaken belief that only the cream rose to the top.
Well
that’s all bullshit, and we both know it. Shit floats just as well as cream.

Dex made for the stone steps. He
knew, if there were answers, they were on the top floor.

Insanity always was...

~ * ~

Dex stopped
.
He
rubbed weary eyes and frowned.
There was a huge room before him, adorned with rich tapestries, thick,
heavily-patterned carpets, and alabaster stands bearing sculptures and golden
effigies. The place was awash with different artefacts, not just from a thousand
different time periods, but from hundreds of different species and races. It
was as if Monolith Corporation had decided that by simply dumping as much
historical wealth as possible in one place, they would inspire awe, inspire
jaw-dropping respect; instead, to Dex, it just looked tacky. Like having ten
different types of dinner service. Like having all four walls decorated in
different gaudy patterns.
Lots
didn’t always automatically mean
best.
The whole arena had been styled by somebody without style. As if created by a
machine. It was fake style. False cool. It rankled Dex deeply...

He moved forward, silent
footsteps on plush carpets. He glided past a hundred marble pedestals, a
thousand gaudy statues in brass and bronze and other, glinting, highly-polished
alloys. He moved past tapestries depicting ancient battles from a thousand
different cultures and alien races. And then...

He heard voices.

Dex glanced about for cameras,
and he was pretty sure the place would be bugged to high heaven, but could see
no evidence.
Ach, fuck it. What can I do?
he realised. All he could do
was blunder on and hope for the best. Hope for a lucky break. Hope to find his
wife
and children...

He continued forward, body tense
now, hyper-sensitive to everything around him, every sight and sound and touch.
He could smell some kind of burning incense, and hear a gentle
swish
of
curtains, as if caressed by a mountain breeze.

Up ahead, Dex saw a man seated on
the thick carpets. He was naked from the waist up, and he was muscular and
deeply tanned. His legs were covered in corded trousers of many bright colours.
He had his back to Dex, and his head was bald, shining by the glow of many
burning brands.

“Welcome, Dexter,” came a rich,
vibrant voice.

Dex checked behind himself, then
crept a little closer. There was something in front of the man, lying on the
thick carpets. With a start, Dex realised it was a woman, lying perfectly
still, her eyes closed, breathing gently and completely naked. Her arms were by
her sides, and her ankles placed neatly together. She looked serene in sleep,
and there was nothing to set her apart from other humans; she was neither ugly
nor beautiful, she was neither fat nor thin, flabby nor muscular. Nothing.

Dex transferred his gaze back to
the man, and realised he had not heard
voices,
just one voice. This man.
Talking to the sleeping woman. Dex frowned, and made sure the safety was off on
the Makarov.

“How did you know I was here?”

“That’s my job,” said the man,
and turned, and grinned at Dexter. He had crimson eyes and sharp pointed teeth.
He looked quite feral, almost tribal in appearance. All he needed was a bone
necklace and a spear and he could have come from three million years ago.

“And your job is?”

“I am the Head of Monolith Secret
Police. My name is Terry ‘Smoothface’ Napper. You can call me ‘Sir.’”

“Aah,” said Dex, who considered
putting a bullet in that nice, big, bald head. It made a good target. Dex was
sure he wouldn’t miss. Suddenly, a pain wrenched through his hands and the Makarov
was torn from his grip and thrown a hundred metres down the room. Dex yelped
and rubbed his wrists, where strips of skin had been peeled free.

“I suggest you toss down the SMKK
as well,” said the man, grinning again, crimson eyes boring through Dex. “If
the accelerator gets it, it might well rip you in half. And we wouldn’t want
that now, would we?”

Dex struggled out of the strap
and dropped the gun like it was on fire. He’d seen accelerators work in the
past, on small military targets, like tanks and warships. A military-grade
accelerator, which could tear a
battleship
in half, would sure make a
mess of a human body. Whoever controlled the machine had a damn good eye; Dex
had only lost a bit of skin on his hand, rather than several fingers, or indeed,
his whole arm - which could have been quite easily ripped off and tossed a
hundred metres down the room along with the Makarov.

The SMKK clattered when it hit
the ground.

“Good boy,” said Napper, and that
grin was still on his face, and the grin bothered Dex, because it wasn’t a grin
associated with humour, but the grin of a shark, or an alligator, just before
its twists a limb into oblivion mush. “Move over there, where I can see your
hands. And just remember, the accelerator can rip out your heart from a million
paces.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Dex, “I’ve
seen them in operation.”

“Well you’ll know not to fuck
with me then,” said Napper.

Dex glanced around, but couldn’t
immediately locate the controller. But then, that didn’t mean much. The
controller could be on a whole different
planet.
What mattered was his
precision. And what mattered was that Dex was being a good boy. Despite obvious
appearances, he was caught worse than any rat in a trap. He was caught with his
pants round his ankles, no mistake, and he’d walked into the pile of shit like
a good boy scout.
Shit.
Could he
get
any more amateurish?

Dex shifted warily around a
bronze statue, away from his SMKK, so that he stood beside the prostrate woman,
staring at Napper’s face. The man returned his gaze to the woman.

“You’re here now, my sweet, and
there’s nothing left for you to worry about.” Her eyelids twitched, as if she
could hear what Napper was saying, but unable to respond. “You’ve been a bad
lady, haven’t you? Following your mission objective rather than following your
heart. Well, you’re here, and you walked into the trap, just like Mr Dexter
Colls.” He glanced up. “You were both fools to think you could come here and
interfere with our plans. Monolith is out of your league, little people.
Monolith, and Theme Planet, are leviathans you
cannot
fuck with.”

“I didn’t come here to fuck with
Monolith Corporation. “ Dex’s voice was soft. “Although Monolith decided it was
going to fuck with me. Don’t you people understand? You took my wife and
children, Napper. You stole them away from me, and you wonder why I go on a
rampage with an SMKK? What the hell did you expect me to do?”

“You were invited to leave; if
you had, your wife and children would have been returned to you. Unharmed.”

“No.” Dex shook his head. “Shit
doesn’t happen like that. Things never work out like that. It’s never as easy
as that. You’d get me off the planet then
blam,
take them out when I wasn’t looking.”

“You are incorrect.” Napper
stared hard at Dex, then stood, smoothly, his body powerful and lithe; a
killing machine honed to perfection. He rolled his neck, joints cracking.

Dex frowned. “Incorrect? About
what?”

“Monolith just wanted you off the
planet. Because of what you are.”

“What I am? What the fuck are you
talking about?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know
what?”

“You’re an android, Dexter.”

“
What?”
Dexter realised he
was grinning, and shaking his head. He lifted his hands, palms outward, his
face open with absolute confusion. “You...” he chuckled with genuine humour, “you
think I’m a fucking
android?
Gods, is that what all this shit has been
about? You took my wife and children in order to persuade me to leave Theme
Planet?”

“Yes.”

“That’s crazy, Napper. Can you
hear yourself? It’s fucking insane! I’m not an android.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“I’m a policeman, you idiot. I
work PUF in London! I have done for fucking
years.
I’ve been married for
years.
I have two little girls, my own flesh and blood, and androids can’t
have children. You know it, and I know it, so what the hell is this really
about?”

“Three androids have been sent to
Theme Planet to kill... various targets.”

“Including you?”

“Oh, yes,” said Napper, meeting
Dexter’s eyes. He continued. “Our intel told us there were three, sent by Earth’s
Oblivion Government, to take out the top brass on various sections of Theme
Planet... presumably as an initial strike before the full scale invasion
begins.”

“Full scale...
invasion
?
Invasion of what?”

“Invasion of Theme Planet,” said
Napper, eyes glinting. “By Earth.”

“Whoa,” Dex held up his hands,
shaking his head. “What you’re talking about is crazy business. Truly insane
stuff. Have you even heard yourself?”

“Our
first job was to locate the
three androids, the three
Anarchy Androids,
sent to Theme Planet to
eliminate various high-ranking targets. Here is one.” Napper stared down,
almost lovingly, at Amba. “See how perfectly made she is. Look at the
craftsmanship. Our engineers, despite their skill with theme rides, are quite
envious. We never did master androids... certainly not to the level of the
Anarchy Model.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” said Dex,
shaking his head. “Honestly mate, you have me completely wrong. I’ve been
caught up in this mad shit and it’s exactly that; mad. Mad as a fucking mad
rabbit.”

“How did you find your way to me?”

“What?”

“You heard the question just
fine, Mr Colls.”

“Well... a series of random
events. I was directed here. By Jim, the policeman, I was looking for my
wife...”

“Your priority was
not
to
leave Theme Planet, Dexter, it was to find me. To take me out. Look at you, in
here, tooled up, armed with a Makarov and SMKK, with grenades in your pockets.
You had a chance, a
true
chance to save your wife and children; you
could have left, and allowed Monolith authorities to return them to Earth to be
with you. But no. You chose the more difficult path. You did what an Anarchy
Model would have done.”

“No, this is ridiculous!” snapped
Dex, frowning, mind a snowglobe of confusion. “And your logic is fucking
twisted. I did what any strong man, any military man, any
police
man
would have done; I failed to trust the untrusting words of yet another huge
lying corporation; I trusted in my own instincts and tried to find my family.
This had nothing to do with assassination. Nothing to
do
with being a
bloody android! All I want is my family back.”

“And if I give them to you?”

“Then I go home,” growled Dex,
through gritted teeth.

“Then I will give them to you.
And we will see.”

Dex paused, then, licking his
lips. He blinked rapidly, three times. “What?” he said, at last.