Warhead by Andy Remic

cannot be rebuilt, cannot be reborn, cannot be improved .’
    ‘Improved? You call the Nex an improvement ? You truly are insane, Durell. I always used to joke back in the NexSquad days that you drank your fill from the mercury fountain—but fuck me if you weren’t bathing in a toxic lake instead.’
    ‘You misunderstand my intentions,’ crooned Durell, his gaze locked on New York. Once more he witnessed the flashes of shotgun blasts. The city below him was a turmoil of anarchy, a maelstrom of human struggle. A battleground for Nex and Spiral, REBS and JT8s.
    A high-pitched shrill alerted Durell, who moved smoothly—with only a few tiny crackles from beneath his robe—and pressed a sleek alloy button. A huge black screen shimmered into life to reveal the face of a Nex, haughty-looking, with narrow copper eyes and short black bristling hair.
    ‘Yes, Mace?’
    ‘Sir, the QIV processor has completed the compilation. We have mapped the new definitions for the HATE zones and managed to control further creeping by spraying anti-HATE borders delivered by chopper. It can no longer infiltrate the cities.’
    ‘Good. So are we—’ Durell chuckled lightly, as if amused by the word ‘— safe, for the moment?’
    ‘It is controlled,’ said Mace simply.
    ‘Good work. Well done.’
    ‘What shall we do with the recent prisoners? The ones who unknowingly wandered into Half-Zones?’
    ‘They broke the Five Laws of Contamination.’
    ‘They did not intend a non-compliance, sir. It was an act based purely on ignorance.’
    ‘You suggest I should release them?’
    ‘I suggest nothing, sir. I am merely stating the facts. There are loyal JT8s and Nex who were out of their jurisdiction because of the nature of the HATE biological weapon; it shifts on the wind and was able to infiltrate edges of the cities, using plant spores as organic carriers. Although the Nex and JT8s were not confined to their Lanes, they had unwittingly entered KillZones and I feel that—’
    ‘Kill them.’
    ‘Yes, sir. Out.’ Mace signed off and the screen went a terrible matt black; it reflected Durell’s contemplative expression for a moment before he turned and settled his gaze on Haven. Then he glanced over to the slim female Nex who stood, stoic and impassive, her sub-machine gun pointing down at the plush carpet.
    ‘Did we run the preliminary checks on Viktor Haven here?’
    ‘Yes,’ said the female Nex softly, her voice gentle and sexless.
    ‘And we found nothing?’
    ‘He is clean, although his ECube does condemn him as a Spiral terrorist purely by association.’
    ‘I know that,’ whispered Durell. ‘Any fool can read his Spiral Agency loyalties in his stance. But what does he truly know about the GRID? What does he know of EDEN? And what does he know about the Dreadnought constructions?’
    Durell caught the glint in Haven’s eye.
    ‘So you do contain some knowledge. Take him to Mace for ... questioning.’ The Nex moved forward and placed a hand on Haven’s shoulder.
    ‘And Alexis?’
    ‘Yes?’ she purred tenderly, her copper-eyed gaze meeting Durell’s.
    ‘Come back quickly. I have another task for you.’
    Durell sat in the darkness, curled on the settee and staring down over New York City. A few fires still burned from the riots earlier that day—but the disturbances had been crushed mercilessly by the JT police squads and Nex Assault Teams. Over five hundred people had died on the streets—and for what?
    To wave their pathetic banners opposing the NEP. Voicing their petty concerns—in direct violation of Durell’s order. Orders highlighted and constantly transmitted on the entire range of vid channels, making it clear that opposition to the Nex Enhancement Programme was prohibited.
    ‘Democracy,’ he hissed. It had a lot to answer for, he thought.
    Mace arrived, sliding into the darkness to stand in front of Durell. He looked agitated—an emotion that Durell rarely saw flickering across the fish-white face of his