Ascent: part 1

Rolling the dice

This is my ongoing scifi / fantasy / crime fiction serial. New chapter every week.

The Triverse is
Mid-Earth, an alternate 1980s London
Max-Earth, a vision of the 26th century
Palinor, where magic is real

Previously: London is under martial law. The Triverse is on lockdown. Tensions are rising across the capital as protests continue to spread. Kaminski and Chakraborty have recruited the once-leaders of the SDC to help…

London. Mid-Earth.
1980. July.

Sergeant William Golding used to love his job. That’s what really pissed him off. Five years now of being in the wrong job, or maybe on the wrong team. He couldn’t bring himself to vocalise it, but something had shifted in his gut that day he’d decided to keep Clarke, Kaminski, Chakraborty and Holland alive. It had felt like the right thing to do in the moment, and then immediately afterwards had felt like a betrayal.

He had never quite decided if the betrayal was theirs, or his. A failure in his responsibility to the job, and to the Force. But, then, he wasn’t a soldier. He was a police officer, and a damned good one. He’d follow orders up to a point, but it wasn’t the army. There was a line. What if the betrayal had already occurred, though? If Clarke and the others were bent, as the reports had said? On the take. Dangerous and violent. The orders had been shoot-to-kill, and he’d chosen to let them live. And then they’d escaped from custody, leaving cops lying injured on the street. That was on Golding. His decision had led to more harm.

But it didn’t fit. He’d only worked with them at the SDC for a relatively short time, but he’d heard of Clarke. He knew about the SDC’s history, and how Commissioner Graves had championed it. The department had a rep for being a haven for oddballs, but Golding didn’t listen to rumour and gossip. He’d done the background on Walpole, Bakker, Ford. And he could tell from the start that DCI James Miller was trouble, though that had been swept under the rug. Nothing like a death to rehabilitate someone’s rep.

Holding the squad together hadn’t been easy. Scarra had always been a wild dog, and Pensthorpe was far too political an animal for his liking. Jones was problematic in his own way: after the accidental shooting of the koth, despite no charges being pressed, he’d spiralled, his behaviour becoming more extreme and erratic — his way of coping with what had happened. The SDC itself was changed beyond recognition, which had always been inevitable after most of its detectives jumped ship and ran off through the Max-Earth portal. If anything, it was a paramilitary arm of the Met, trained specifically to counter Palinese threats. Drills covered how to take down a koth, or an aen’fa: weak points, threat calibration, tactical advantages. Notably, the SDC’s remit no longer seemed to apply to Max-Earth; the assumption seemed to be that it was mostly humans there, and they didn’t cause trouble.

Perhaps that had always been the assumption.

The lift took him down the Joint Council tower from the security office, from where the overwatch program was monitored, and he stepped out into the expansive foyer. Everyone was on high alert, with protests across the river heading towards the palace, and a riot having kicked off in the koth zone to the east. They were spread thin. Even with the funding boosts, even with the recruitment drive, it was going to be a long day and night.

The rest of the squad were waiting for him. Golding would have preferred to be out on the streets, keeping order, working to de-escalate, but they’d been ordered to hang back and guard the tower. There was another squad outside, lined up on the steps.

It wasn’t that long ago that he had been proud to be part of the SDC, excited to walk through the doors of the Joint Council every day. Increasingly, it was hard to remember what exactly they were supposed to be protecting.

The rain filled the streets, turning gutters to rivers and pavements to slick, mirrored surfaces. Kaminski’s shoes were slippery, sliding about rather than gripping. It suitably matched his mental state. The plan was an exercise in rolling the dice, over and over, and always needing a six. Everything had to go right, from instigating the protests to triggering the koth riot. Lola and her rebel buddies had to launch their attack at precisely the right moment. And all of it hinged around their little gang of ex-cops and desk bureaucrats getting to the security office at the top of the Joint Council tower and disabling the overwatch systems that blanketed the city. While it was still active, there was no chance of Clarke reaching parliament, or of the koth or the protesters surviving the day. They would be quashed, and then London would send reinforcements through the portal and Lola’s rebellion would be done.

First, they had to get through the front doors.

The Joint Council tower loomed above, its top obscured by cloud and rain. Somewhere up there there might even be Lord Hutchinson, one of the scumbags behind this whole thing. The thought that Hutchinson might be in custody within twenty-four hours was all that was keeping Kaminski going: they had the tape from Justin, now transferred and backed up. Max-Earth was in meltdown after the attack on Addis and the subsequent destruction of the New Rhodes orbital museum. Matheson was dead, so that was one down. The stink of corruption was there for everyone to smell, which made evidence less important. All they really needed was to crack the iron grip on the triverse. Tear it all down.

Which sounded great to the revolutionaries and the dreamers, he was sure. But Kaminski had read the history books. He knew what tended to happen to the revolutionaries after the revolution, even if they won. Even if it went their way, nobody had any idea what would come next.

“You with us?” Chakraborty said, squeezing his arm as they walked the street towards the tower entrance.

“We shouldn’t have come,” he said. “This would work better if it was just the Commissioner, Walpole and Ford.”

“They don’t know the plan as well as we do,” said Chakraborty, looking up at the tower. “We’re best placed to coordinate with Clarke.” She leaned in, her hair flat against her face from the rain. “And besides, don’t you want to be there to take down these bastards? To read Hutchinson his rights?”

Graves turned to look back at them. “Let me do the talking. I’ll get us in and to the lifts.” He nodded to Walpole and Ford. “Then it’s on you two to get us access to the security room.”

Standing to attention on the wide steps in front of the tower were five armed police officers. Anonymous, helmeted, carrying shields. One of them held up a hand and signalled for them to stop.

“Matthew Graves, MP for Norwich.” Graves approached and held out his ID. The officer leaned closer, then peered at the rest of them. “Colleagues from the Met Police. You might know DCS Walpole. We’re here to help coordinate efforts against the rioters. I’ve been sent by the Prime Minister.”

“I recognise you,” the officer said, and nodded in the direction of the entrance. “Go on in, but make sure you all sign in at the desk.”

The dice had come up a six. Their first of the night.

Graves waved a thanks and pocketed his ID card. The five of them climbed the steps, moving through the glass doors and into the foyer. That little bit closer to their goal. Kaminski was acutely aware of how exposed they were, standing in the big, open space. The reception desk was off to one side, while another squad of armed police guarded the banks of elevators. Their uniform was a little different, and it took Kaminski a moment to recognise its familiarity.

One of the armed officers stepped forward, hand on his rifle. “That’s far enough, gentlemen, thank you.” The voice of Constable Philip Scarra. The dice had rolled a one. Golding was there, by the reception desk, though his attention was now fixed upon the new arrivals. Pensthorpe and Jones, too — the old SDC gang, there to greet them.

“Good afternoon,” Graves said, taking a step forward, ahead of the rest of them. “I’m Matthew Graves, Member of Parliament. I’ve been sent by Prime Minister Maxwell to help coordinate the response to the unrest in the city and provide a ministerial perspective. I’ve brought some of my former SDC colleagues to advise.”

“First I’ve heard of any of that.”

Golding was walking back towards the rest of his squad, his weapon still holstered. Kaminski felt something tighten in his gut.

“Who’s that with you?” Scarra took a step to the side and his eyes went wide. “Is that Kaminski and Chakraborty?” He lifted his weapon, aimed it at them. Chakraborty moved in front of Kaminski. Scarra shouted towards Golding. “Guv, something’s not right here.”

“Hold position,” Golding said, waving a hand gently.

Graves held his hands up. “They are providing counter-intelligence, having been extracted from the insurgent group.” He took another step in the foyer, towards the officers. “I have the letter from Number Ten, if you want to check.” He reached inside his suit jacket.

Scarra’s arms flinched, his barrel twitching, and a shot rang out in the foyer. A red mist popped from the back of Graves’ head, then he crumpled to the floor.

Walpole and Ford scrambled to the left, while Kaminski pushed at Chakraborty to move to the right, towards the reception desk. It didn’t matter, because there was no time and nowhere to take cover, and Scarra was already aiming for his next shot.

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Looking for some new things to read over the summer break? Check out the Fantasy & Sci-fi giveaway, which I’m taking part in this month. New authors, new stories.

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Meanwhile.

Was down in London this week for work. The day job now is at Creative PEC, a research group that was established to help inform the creative industries. It’s a real pleasure to have a job that aligns with my main interests and pursuits: it makes everything easier.

This week was a meeting of the ‘industry champions’, discussing and dissecting the UK government’s new Creative Industries Sector Plan. I was mostly lurking, but there’s always something invigorating about being surrounded by clever people. My main takeaway is that good work is being done by good people.

Bits and bobs:

• Started playing 1000xResist. It’s obtuse and heavily idiosyncratic and I’m really enjoying it. No idea what’s going on just yet, but the team clearly had a vision. I love that game development is able to produce this kind of thing, as well as the usual blockbusters. It reminds me of Evangelion, tonally.

• I finished the Sea of Stars DLC, which was full of beautiful art and music. A fun story, too, which purposefully pulls apart all the pieces of the main game and puts them back together again in a slightly different shape.

• Have been thoroughly enjoying J Michael Straczynski’s run of one-shot quirky team-up comics. Agatha and Aunt May in particular, obviously.

• Kieron Gillen continues to do amazing things with The Power Fantasy. It’s very dense, so demands a re-read from the beginning.

• I was excited to see that there’s a screen adaptation of Washington Black coming up. Read that book when it came out and really enjoyed it.

Author notes

Another one bites the dust! I do wish I’d given Graves more air time: he’s mostly been an off-screen character, but was always meant to be a bit of a Commissioner Gordon role. The idea was for Graves to be a buffer between the SDC and the wider Met and government influence. The SDC was his division, hand-picked in order to do a very specific job. He was to be incorruptible, and the one person Clarke and the others could definitely rely upon.

Despite writing an absurd number of words in this ridiculous story, I don’t think Graves was established as much as I wished. Some of his story beats ended up going to Bakker. As such, his death here likely won’t work as an emotional beat, but it’ll hopefully still register as an ‘oh shit’ moment, and raise the stakes yet further.

Perhaps more interesting is Golding: another character who has only had a handful of appearances, but they’ve been at pivotal moments. I actually had a continuity glitch in here in the first draft, with the opening talking about Golding allowing the others to escape — when actually, he’d arrested them but had made sure to keep them alive (which then enabled Justin to rescue them from the police van). I’m frankly amazed I don’t have more continuity glitches and plot holes in this thing, given how big it’s become. (this is not an invitation to point them all out…)

Oh, also this:

Clearly, I am an idiot.

Right, let’s hope that the rest of them don’t all get shot at the start of next week’s chapter, right?