Grimdark Magazine Issue #4 ePub Read online

  A clatter of swing doors snatched his attention back to Amanda, who'd dived through them once her improvised ambush hadn't turned out as she'd planned. Even worse, Drift could hear shouts and running feet indicating that additional security had been nearby and had heard the noise. The entire thing had only taken seconds, and there were still other people standing around the corridor in shock. Drift's eyes latched onto one, a middle-aged man with a ferocious beard and moustache and a bandana, which probably hid a bald spot but also gave him a vaguely piratical air.

  'Catch!'

  Drift threw his left pistol underhand at the man, who caught it reflexively. Horrified realisation was just beginning to creep over the poor bastard's face as Drift crashed through the double doors in pursuit of Amanda, which was when three more enforcers rounded a corner with guns drawn. It wasn't exactly Drift's fault if they jumped to inaccurate conclusions.

  'Wai-'

  The man's protestations were cut short by gunfire as the doors of what turned out to be a kitchen banged shut behind Drift. Other witnesses might clue the security into what had actually happened, but for at least a precious few seconds the guards would think they'd killed their colleagues' murderer.

  He needed to use those seconds wisely. There was another set of doors on the far side and, judging by the startled body language of the chef and waiter who were just turning away from them and towards him, it was pretty obvious which way Amanda had gone. Both staff shrank back from him as he sprinted forward, pistol still in hand, and it occurred to him as he burst out into yet another corridor that he'd probably better holster his remaining weapon again before he ended up going the same way as Amir.

  'A little help?' Rourke’s voice rasped from his left.

  Amanda was facing him, a kitchen knife at her feet and her hands desperately clawing at the arm wrapped tight around her neck from behind. The arm itself was attached to Tamara Rourke, who was glaring at him from over the other woman's shoulder.

  'Any time you're ready…' Rourke added, a trifle breathlessly.

  Rourke was deadly, but Amanda was struggling desperately against her grip. However, all Drift had to do was haul her hands away from Rourke's forearm and allow his business partner to sink the blood choke in properly. The struggling lab tech slumped to the floor a couple of seconds later, her brain briefly deprived of oxygen.

  'Which hand was she holding her drink in?' Rourke asked without preamble, releasing the hold.

  'Uh... the right,' Drift replied. He'd learned not to query Rourke's choice of questions when time was a factor, because there was always a good reason to them.

  Rourke bent down and grabbed Amanda's right ear stud, then simply wrenched it loose. Drift winced: that was going to sting like hell when she came around in a few seconds.

  'Let's go,' Rourke told him, her long coat flaring behind her as she hurried past him.

  'You... what makes you think that's it?' Drift demanded, catching up with his partner with a few long strides.

  'She left her bag when she ran from you,' Rourke replied, not looking at him as they tried to put some distance between themselves and Amanda's temporarily unconscious form without appearing too suspicious, 'so it had to be on her person somewhere. Subdermal transport doesn't lend itself well to an inconspicuous handoff, and a hidden pocket in that sort of clothing wouldn't be much better. No other jewellery, so the ear studs seemed anomalous and overlarge unless being used to conceal something. A right-handed person would instinctively put the more valuable of two otherwise identical studs on their right ear, as it would feel more secure there.' Her dark-skinned hands twisted together around the earstud and there was a faint click before she slid the stone aside to reveal a small, black square of plastic laced with metallic lines.

  'Presto. One payload.'

  'You're going to be wrong, one of these days,' Drift told her through a smile.

  'And then you'll get to say, “I told you so”.'

  'I doubt I'll want to.' He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment while Rourke discarded the stud's separated halves and slotted the data chip into her pad. 'Amir didn't make it.'

  Rourke's mouth twitched, but her stride didn't falter. 'That's a shame. He was useful. What happened?'

  'The girl set security on us,' Drift replied. 'They got him. I had to, ah, take steps.'

  Rourke's eyes flickered to him for a second, then back to the pad in her hands. 'Wonderful. The stairs, then?'

  'They can't lock those down,' Drift agreed. 'How's it looking?'

  'Dangerous,' Rourke said, blueprints scrolling across her pad's display.

  'Good,' Drift nodded. 'That means someone will want to buy it.' He keyed his comm. 'A, you there?'

  Right behind you, Cap.+

  Drift looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, Apirana was visible a little way back in the corridor, moving through the House's other punters like a freighter through a fleet of tugs. The big man had clearly remembered Drift's instruction to return to the ship if anything went awry.

  'Good,' Drift said, looking away again. 'Pick the pace up a little though, I know we're an odd-looking bunch but I'd rather stick together at the moment. We're taking the stairs.'

  You got it.+

  Apirana caught up with them just as they turned onto a wide staircase which was a little too deserted for Drift's liking. The House of the Redeemer was huge and therefore hard to police, but the captains took an understandably dim view of people killing their staff and Drift would have preferred a little more cover.

  'Where's Amir?' Apirana asked as they began to descend.

  'Took a couple of bullets from security,' Drift muttered, trying to pitch his voice loud enough for the big man to hear him but without anyone else picking up what he was saying.

  'Seriously? Damn, bro.' Apirana's big face soured. 'I kinda liked him. Nothin' you could do?'

  'Two to the chest.' Drift shook his head. 'All over bar the shouting.'

  'Shiiiit,' the Maori sighed. 'Tell me you at least got what we came for?'

  'Si, thanks to Sherlock here,' Drift said, gesturing at Rourke. She looked at him blankly.

  'Who?'

  'What, you don't...?' Drift looked at Apirana, who seemed equally mystified. 'Madre di Dios, does no-one appreciate the classics anymore?'

  * * *

  They were fifty yards away from the hatch of the docking tunnel the Keiko was attached to when the press of people around them suddenly sprouted guns.

  'Whoa, what...' The instinctive progress of Drift's right hand towards his remaining pistol was halted by the intimidating, cold presence of a barrel against his temple. 'Jesu Cristo, man!'

  'No such luck, you Mexican babaca,' a voice snarled. Its owner appeared in Drift's eyeline, tall and weathered with a thick, dark moustache and generous stubble.

  'Moutinho,' Drift sighed, his heart sinking. 'Is there a problem here?'

  'You tell me,' Ricardo Moutinho spat. 'Actually, wait, how about you don't speak? You think I didn't see that piece of trash you call a ship lurking around Jörmungandr?'

  Drift frowned. 'I had business with Church and Camden, just like you.'

  'Which happened to bring you here? I don't think so. Somehow, you got wind of the job I took for them and thought you could sneak in and take it first.' The Brazilian snorted a laugh. 'I sorta admire your balls... but not enough to let you get away with it. Hand it over.'

  'I don't know-'

  'I'll happily redecorate this hallway with your brains,' Moutinho said. 'You're capable, Drift, I'll give you that, and I don't reckon you'd be heading back to your floating rustbucket unless you'd got what you came for. You can hand the chip over to me right now and you get to walk away, or we kill you and then search your corpses. One way is easier for both of us.'

  Sadly, Moutinho wasn't an idiot. Drift sighed. 'Tamara?'

  'There aren't that many of them,' Rourke replied, gesturing at the half-dozen thugs that made up Moutinho’s crew.
She was standing totally relaxed, with no evidence of the tension Drift was feeling other than the diamond-hard glare she was shooting at Moutinho.

  'Yeah, but me and A aren't as tough as you,' Drift pointed out truthfully. 'Just give it to them.'

  'Damn it, Drift.' Rourke pulled the chip from her coat pocket and tossed it to the floor at Moutinho's feet.

  'Don't stop covering her,' the Brazilian ordered, squatting to retrieve it while keeping his eyes fixed on Rourke. He handed it to the woman beside him, a dark-haired tough with a face like a knife blade. 'That was too easy. Check it.'

  His crewer slotted the chip into her pad, then frowned. 'Looks like... ponies?'

  Moutinho's face creased in disbelief, and he craned his neck to see over her shoulder. 'What?'

  'Seriously. It's episodes of some sort of animated pony show. The shit is this?'

  'A decoy,' Moutinho snapped, turning his attention back to Rourke. 'Nice try. The real chip, now. And your pad.'

  Rourke glowered at him, but tossed him her pad. Moutinho pulled the chip out, dropped the pad and stamped on it until it broke, then passed the new chip to his crewer. She placed it in her pad and nodded in approval. 'This looks like what we're after.'

  'Wonderful.' Moutinho clicked his fingers and the gun barrels levelled at Drift, Rourke, and Apirana lowered. 'One last thing, Drift: how did you find out about this job? And don't try to tell me Church and Camden sent you here as well: the twins aren't dumb enough to set both of us after the same thing.'

  Drift shrugged, not bothering to hide the hollow feeling in his stomach. They'd lost Amir for nothing. 'Where's that redhead navigator of yours? Back on the Jacare?'

  Moutinho's eyes narrowed.

  'I mean, I don't like to brag, but if you'd taken off as soon as you'd been given the job then even I wouldn't have had time to loosen her tongue.' He managed a smirk. 'As it were.'

  'Bullshit.'

  'Seriously, I mean, why would a navigator get tattoos on her ass? She sits in a chair, that's her job, that's got to hur-'

  'Oh, fuck me,' the woman to Drift's left said, shaking her head. 'He's telling the truth, boss.'

  Moutinho's moustache quivered as his mouth moved beneath it, but finally he forced a smile. 'Well, thanks for the heads up, I guess. And for doing my work for me. But if I find you sniffing around one of my scores again, I won't be so friendly.' He turned and walked away, presumably towards where the Jacare was berthed. His goons followed, but they kept their guns drawn and their eyes on Drift and his companions until they'd rounded the next corner.

  'Damn,' Apirana said, slamming one giant fist into the other palm.

  'Good call on the navigator story,' Rourke said to Drift. 'A better idea than admitting we bugged the twins' office, and you've got the rep to make it believable.'

  'Nice try on the bait and switch, yourself,' Drift replied. He attempted a smile. 'Kuai's going to be mad you lost his ponies, though.'

  'Shame they didn't buy it,' Apirana muttered.

  'Don't be so sure,' Rourke said, the faintest hint of a smug smile cracking her lips. She pulled another data chip from her pocket. 'I switched the chip in my pad while they were looking at the first one.'

  Drift stared at her, hardly daring to hope. 'But they checked it!'

  'They didn't know exactly what they were after,' Rourke said. 'They got weapon plans alright, but it was a copy of the ones we stole from New Ghayathi a few months back.'

  'The same ones we sold to Church and Camden last time!' Drift laughed. 'Hah! Moutinho's going to try to sell the twins something they've already bought!'

  Apirana grinned. 'I take it we ain't gonna go back to Jörmungandr for a bit, then?'

  'That wouldn't seem wise,' Drift admitted, leading the way towards the docking hatch. Suddenly everything had fallen back into place. 'Besides, the twins are only going to be middlemen taking a cut; they've got no use for weapon blueprints themselves. When we first planned this I was thinking about trying to find a buyer at the Great Soukh, but Tamara had a better idea.'

  'I've got some contacts in the less reputable parts of the USNA government,' Rourke said as the airlock hissed open. 'They'll be very interested in what we've got here, and where it came from. And when I say “interested”, I mean “willing to pay well”.'

  'Hear that, big man?' Drift said, slapping Apirana on the back as the Maori ducked his head to pass through the doorway. 'A government. We're practically doing good!'

  Apirana turned to him. ’You see this face, bro?'

  'Yeah.'

  'This is my “I don't believe you” face.'

  'Oh, come on!' Drift said, securing the airlock behind them. 'Someone's going to make money off this, it might as well be us!' He sighed happily. '“Cry havoc, and let slip the...”'

  Rourke and Apirana looked blankly at him again.

  'Oh, never mind.'[GdM]

  Mike Brooks was born in Ipswich, England and moved to Nottingham, England when he was 18 to go to university. He’s stayed there ever since, and now lives with his wife, two cats, two snakes and a collection of tropical fish. When not working for a homelessness charity or writing he plays guitar and sings in a punk band, watches football (soccer), MMA and nature/science documentaries, goes walking in the Peak District, and DJs wherever anyone will tolerate him.

  His debut novel 'Dark Run' was released in June 2015 and the sequel 'Dark Sky' will be released in November 2015.

  www.mikebrooks.co.uk

  @mikebrooks668

  www.facebook.com/mikebrooks668

  An Interview With

  Peter V. Brett

  Tom Smith

  [GdM] You have said before that you do not consider yourself grimdark. How would you describe grimdark and how would you classify your work based on your current series?

  [PVB] I guess it’s in the eye of the beholder. I’ve seen little consensus on what precisely constitutes grimdark. Each person defines it for themselves, and so there is wild variation. Most definitions are so bleak I don’t know of any popular work that fits the bill, and others are so broad they catch most any modern fantasy author. When someone included Robin Hobb on a grimdark list, I realized just how far things had gone.

  So I can’t really tell you what grimdark is, because it, like all genres and sub-genres is only a signpost helping point readers in a vague direction. A way of saying, “Oh, you like X? You might like Y.” There are no hard rules.

  What I can tell you is that I personally know most of the authors generally associated with grimdark, and none of them (or us, if your personal definition includes me in that set) set out to write it. Most had never even heard of the term.

  I think what we’re really seeing is a minor backlash from the sort of safe, sanitized fantasy novels that were super-popular in the 80’s and 90’s. Dragonlance. Forgotten Realms. Xanth. Shannara. Belgariad. Wheel of Time. Etc.

  It’s not to say that the above weren’t great books. They were. I devoured all that stuff when I was young and loved it. But as I grew, those stories didn’t grow with me. No major character ever died, or had anything other than implied, heterosexual, off camera adult relations. No one ever went to the bathroom. No one was tortured or sexually abused. Belief that all human life was sacred and needed to be protected above all else was a given for any protagonist.

  The more I grew up and learned about the real world, the less I saw that world reflected in fantasy, and the harder I found it to relate to. I know I’m not alone in this, which is why you see authors of my generation pushing back in different ways.

  [GdM] In the Demon Cycle books, a world exists where mankind cowers in fear each night behind warded walls. If you lived in that world, what do you think you would be doing for a living? Do you have a character that you think of as very similar to yourself?

  [PVB] I think if I lived in that world, I would probably end up in a demon’s belly. I’m a pretty lousy Warder. To be fair, I made it hard on purpose. One t
ime some friends tried to ward their living room for my birthday party, and afterward one came to me and said, “Wow, now I understand why so many people die in your books!”

  I don’t really think there are any characters in the series similar to me. I think I gave Arlen Bales, my original protagonist, a similar moral compass to myself, but Arlen is fearless, whereas I am afraid of most everything. Like many heroes, he is the person we wish we could be.

  [GdM] What is your opinion on the grimdark sub-genre, and do you see the growing of a grimdark sub-genre as a positive or negative for fantasy as a whole?

  Are there any grimdark authors whose work intrigues you or that you really enjoy?

  [PVB] I think the shift was a necessary and positive one for readers, but literature is a living, changing organism. These sorts of things are a pendulum. Already there is a rebound in YA and other “safer” reading material to counterbalance the grimdark movement. This is a good thing, too.

  For myself and many other authors I know, it was GRRM who broke the seal on sanitized fantasy. I read Game of Thrones and it opened up so many possibilities. I was already writing what essentially amounted to Forgotten Realms books with added adult content, but the way it was mixed with politics and fully realized characters who worked to their own ends instead of a set plot showed me how far I could go. My own work was irrevocably changed after that point.

  GRRM wasn’t the first fantasy author to do this, but he was the first I had read, and arguably still the best. Joe Abercrombie and Mark Lawrence are the other names most commonly associated with grimdark, and they are both friends of mine whose work I enjoy immensely.

  [GdM] What character(s) have you written that you would consider the most grimdark?