big chap!’ He turned back to Liam. ‘Jolly big, isn’t he?’
Liam nodded impatiently – like he needed to be told that. ‘Those things? Those creatures?’
‘Well now … yes, I suppose you must have at least read about this in the papers. That we’re using some more experimental types of genics to work on the plantations over here.’ He shook his head. ‘The Evening Times and the other newspapers were ranting about that when we were shipping out from London. We’ve had simple-minded eugenics working in factories and farms back home for ages, but these recent innovations – the dextrous hands with thumbs, and the larger brains; awfully clever stuff, if you ask me – well, that’s become a heated issue. They don’t like it, the idea of genics being smart enough to change the oil on an auto-locomotion engine, or being able to write their name.’
McManus looked at them. ‘But you must know about that, of course?’
Liam nodded convincingly. ‘Sure … yeah, of course.’
‘So,’ the officer continued, ‘we’re trying out these more advanced types over here in the southern states. Generally these smarter genics are really jolly good. Very impressive, actually. But we do get problems every now and then. They can flip out occasionally and turn exceedingly nasty.’
The officer suddenly shook his head with disgust at himself. ‘I’m sorry, awfully rude … I didn’t manage to get your names?’
‘I’m Liam, Liam O’Connor. And the big fella here is Bob.’
McManus offered Bob his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Bob and Liam. Now look … we’re going to try and run these genics down before they get to the city’s outskirts. We’ll do what we can to get your friends back … but – I’m not going to tell you a lie – they can be very unpredictable.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Liam.
McManus shook his head. ‘They can be gentle, tender, loving even. Then without any warning at all, without any reason, they can turn on you. Be quite deadly, in fact. There’s no knowing what sets them off.’ He looked at the trickle of drying blood running down from Liam’s temple and gestured at the gigantic vessel looming over them. ‘There’s a regimental surgeon aboard the ship type. I suggest you go aboard and let him have a look at you. And we shall go and –’
Liam shook his head. ‘No … I need to find her! Please! I have to come along!’
Bob nodded. ‘Affirmative. Enough time has already been wasted. We cannot lose them.’
The officer looked at them both, silently.
‘She’s my sister,’ said Liam finally, desperately. He tossed a hooded glance at Bob. ‘Both of our … sister. Isn’t she?’
Bob acknowledged that with an unconvincing nod. ‘Yes. We are … family.’
‘Your sister?’ McManus frowned circumspectly. ‘Hmm … I shouldn’t really do this, allow civilians along.’ He stroked his chin. ‘But … well, yes … missing family, you want to do all that you can to find them, don’t you?’
Liam nodded. ‘We won’t get in your way. We just want to find her! And our friend.’
McManus summoned one of his men. ‘Sergeant Cope? These two civvies shall be joining us. Clear some saddle space for them, will you?’
The sergeant, eyes dark beneath the brim of his helmet, and the rest of his face lost behind a large walrus moustache, nodded briskly. ‘Right you are, sir!’
McManus turned back to Liam and Bob. ‘You’ve ridden a huff?’
‘Huff?’
‘A huffalo?’ He shook his head. ‘Not to worry, you’ll be riding rear-saddle.’ He glanced at Bob. ‘Going to need to pick a jolly big one for you, though.’
At that moment the Indian tracker – White Bear – emerged from the farmhouse and jogged across to Captain McManus.
‘They go north-east.’ He gestured past the building towards the gravel road on which Liam and the others had entered the hamlet earlier that day. ‘Tracks go that way.’
‘How many do you think, White Bear?’
‘Fifty. Maybe more. Many different ones. Some big. Some small.’ He glanced quickly at Liam and Bob then back at his commanding officer. ‘Only one human track. Man, I think.’
Liam looked alarmed and the young officer raised a hand to calm him. ‘That may just mean they’re carrying your sister. To move along faster, you see?’ McManus turned to his men. ‘Platoon! Ready your mounts!’ And then he tugged something down from the side of his helmet, a padded leather pouch that settled over his ear. From that he pulled out a thick telescopic brass arm that curved round his jawline and ended with a