"Neutronium Alchemist - Conflict" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Peter F.)Chapter 06The hellhawk It was an impressive sight as it slid down out of the starfield for a landing on Valisk’s docking ledge. Had it been real, it would be capable of taking on an entire squadron of Confederation Navy ships with its exotic weapons. The illusion popped as a crew bus rolled across the ledge towards it. Perhaps the whole possession problem would burn itself out in an orgy of irreversible cancer. Few of the returned souls were content with the physical appearance of the bodies they had claimed. How superbly ironic, Rubra thought, that vanity could be the undoing of entities who had acquired near-godlike powers. It was also a dangerous prospect, once they realized what was happening. Those people remaining free would become even more valuable, the attempts to possess them ever more desperate. And Edenism would be the last castle to besiege. He decided not to mention the prospect to the Kohistan Consensus. It was another small private advantage; no one else in the Confederation had such a unique and extensive vantage point of the possessed and their behaviour as him. He wasn’t sure if he could exploit the knowledge, but he wasn’t going to give it away until he was certain. A sub-routine of his principal personality was designated to observe the aberrant melanomata and carcinomas developing on the possessed inside the habitat. If the growths turned malignant the current situation would change drastically right across the Confederation. The crew bus had left the Damn it, you have to stop these flights,rubra complained to the Kohistan Consensus. That’s nearly two thousand victims this week. There must be something you can do. We really cannot interdict every hellhawk flight. Their objective does not affect the overall balance of strategic events, and is relatively harmless. Not to these kids it isn’t! Agreed. But we cannot be everyone’s keeper. The effort and risk involved in arranging clandestine rendezvous to pick up the Deadnights is disproportionate to the reward. In other words, as long as the hellhawks are busy with this, they can’t cause much trouble elsewhere. Correct. Unfortunately. And you used to call me a heartless bastard. Everybody is suffering from the effects of possession. Until we discover a solution to the entire problem, all we can hope for is to reduce it to an absolute minimum wherever possible. Right. I’d like to point out that when Kiera reaches the magic number, it’s me who is going to be the one suffering. That is some time off yet. Asteroid settlements have been alerted to these clandestine rendezvous flights. There should be less of them in future. I bloody well knew I could never trust you lot. We did not inflict any of this on you, Rubra. And you are quite welcome to transfer into the neural strata of one of our habitats should it look like Kiera Salter is preparing to shift Valisk out of this universe. I’ll keep it in mind. But I don’t think you’ll need to welcome this particular prodigal. Dariat is almost ready. Once he comes over, it’ll be Kiera who is going to have to worry about where I shift Valisk. Your attempt at subversion is a risky strategy. That’s how I built Magellanic Itg, through sheer balls. It’s also why I rejected you. You don’t have any. This is not getting us anywhere. If it works, I’ll be able to start fighting back on a level you can’t conceive of. Risk makes you alive, that’s what you never understood. That’s the difference between us. And don’t try coming over all smarmy superior with me. It’s me who’s got an idea, me who stands a chance. Have you got any suggestions to make, an alternative? No. Exactly. So don’t lecture me. We would urge caution, though. Please. Urge away. Rubra dismissed the affinity link with his usual contempt. Circumstances might have forced him into an alliance with his old culture; but all the renewed contact had done was convince him how right he had been to reject them all those centuries ago. He switched his primary routine’s attention inward. The group of newly arrived Deadnights had been split up and taken away to be opened for possession. A temporary village had sprung up at the base of the northern endcap, extravagant tents and small cosy cottages for the possessed to dwell in. A smaller version of the camps which ringed the starscraper foyers halfway down the interior. The teams Kiera had working to make the starscrapers safe were finding progress difficult. And in any case, the possessed didn’t entirely trust the areas they claimed to have secured. Rubra had never stopped his continual harassment. Nearly ten per cent of the servitor population had been killed as he deployed them on sneak attacks, but he still managed to eliminate a couple of possessed every day. Separated from their companions, the Deadnights were easily overwhelmed. Piteous screams and pleas hung over the village like smog. One of Rubra’s newest monitor routines alerted him to a minuscule electrical discrepancy within the starscraper where Tolton was hiding. He had discovered electricity was the key to locating Bonney Lewin when she was using her energistic ability to fox his visual observation. A series of extremely sensitive routines which now monitored his own biolectric patterns could sometimes detect a possessed from the backwash of their energistic power. In effect, the entire polyp structure had become an electronic warfare detector. It was hardly reliable, but he was constantly refining the routines. He tracked down the wraithish presence to the twenty-seventh floor vestibule where it was moving towards the stairwell muscle membrane door. Visually, the vestibule was empty. At least, according to his local autonomic sub-routines it was. The current in one of the organic conductor cables buried behind the wall fluctuated subtly. Rubra reduced the power to the electrophorescent cells covering the polyp ceiling. The visual image remained the same for a couple of seconds, then the ceiling darkened. It should have been instantaneous. Whatever was causing the electrical disturbance stopped moving. He opened a channel to Tolton’s processor block. “Get going, boy. They’re coming for you.” Tolton rolled off the bed where he’d been dozing. He’d been staying in the apartment for five days. The original occupant’s wardrobes had been ransacked for a new ensemble. He’d accessed a good number of the MF and bluesense fleks in the lounge. And he’d sampled all of the imported delicacies in the kitchen, washing them down with fine wines and a lot of Norfolk Tears. For a suffering social poet, he’d adapted to hedonism with the greatest of ease. Small wonder there was a graceless scowl on his face as he snatched up his leather trousers and wriggled his bulk into them. “Where are they?” “Ten floors above you,” Rubra assured him. “Don’t worry, you’ve got plenty of time. I’ve got your exit route ready for you.” “I’ve been thinking, maybe you ought to steer me toward some weapons hardware. I could start evening up the score a little.” “Let’s just concentrate on the essentials, shall we? Besides, if you get close enough to a possessed to use a weapon, they’re close enough to turn it against you.” Tolton addressed the ceiling. “You think I can’t handle it?” “I thank you for the offer, son, but there are just too many of them. You staying free is my victory against all of them, don’t blow it for me.” Tolton clipped the processor block to his belt and fastened his straggly hair back in a ponytail. “Thanks, Rubra. We all got it way wrong about you. I know it don’t mean shit to you probably, but when this is over, I’m going to tell the whole wide Confederation what you done.” “That’s one MF album I’ll buy. First in a long time.” Tolton stood in front of the apartment’s door, breathed in like a yogamaster, flexed his shoulders like a sport pro warming up, nodded briskly, and said: “Okay, let’s hustle.” Rubra felt an obdurate burst of sympathy and, strangely enough, pride as the poet stepped out into the vestibule. When Kiera started her takeover he assumed Tolton would last a couple of days. Now he was one of only eighty non-possessed left. One of the reasons he’d survived was because he followed instructions to the letter; in short, he trusted Rubra. And Rubra was damned if Bonney would get him now. The invisible energistic swirl was on the move again, descending the stairwell. Rubra started to modify the output of the electrophorescent cells in the ceiling. HELLO, BONNEY, he printed. I HAVE A PROPOSITION FOR YOU. The swirl stopped again. COME ON, TALK TO ME. WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO LOSE? He waited. A column of air shimmered silver, as if a giant cocoon had sprung up out of the polyp. Rubra experienced it most as a slackening of pressure in the local sub-routines; a pressure he hadn’t even been aware of until then. Then the silver air lost its lustre, darkening to khaki. Bonney Lewin stood on the stairs, her Enfield searching for hazards. “What proposition?” ABANDON YOUR CURRENT VICTIM, I WILL GIVE YOU A BETTER ONE. “I doubt it.” DOESN’T KIERA WANT DARIAT ANYMORE? Bonney gave the glowing letters a thoughtful stare. “You’re trying to sucker me.” NO. THIS IS GENUINE. “You’re lying. Dariat hates you; he’s totally bonkers about beating seven bells out of you. If we help him, he’ll succeed.” SO WHY HASN’T HE COME TO YOU FOR HELP? “Because he’s . . . weird.” NO. IT IS BECAUSE USING YOU TO DEFEAT ME WOULD MEAN HAVING TO SHARE THE POWER WHICH WOULD RESULT FROM HIS DOMINATION OF THE NEURAL STRATA. HE WANTS IT ALL. HE HAS SPENT THIRTY YEARS WAITING FOR AN OPPORTUNITY LIKE THIS. DO YOU THINK HE WILL GIVE THAT AWAY? AND AFTER ME, KIERA IS GOING TO BE NEXT. THEN PROBABLY YOU. “So you hand him over to us. That still doesn’t make any sense; either way, we get to nail you.” DARIAT AND I ARE PLAYING OUR OWN GAME. I DO NOT EXPECT YOU TO UNDERSTAND. BUT I DO NOT INTEND TO LOSE TO HIM. She worried at a fingernail. “I don’t know.” EVEN WITH MY HELP, HE WILL BE DIFFICULT TO CATCH. DO YOU FEAR FAILURE? “Don’t try working that angle on me, it’s pathetic.” VERY WELL. SO DO YOU ACCEPT? “Difficult one. I really don’t trust you. But it would be a superb hunt, you’ve got me there. I haven’t had a single sniff of that tricky little boyo yet, and I’ve been trying for long enough.” She shouldered her rifle. “All right, we’ve got a deal. But just remember, if you are trying to get me to walk into some ten-thousand-volt power cable, I can still come back. Kiera’s recording is hauling in thousands of morons. I’ll return in one of them, and then you’ll wish all you had to worry about was Dariat.” UNDERSTOOD. FIND A PROCESSOR BLOCK AND SWITCH IT TO ITS BASIC ROUTINES, THAT SHOULD KEEP IT FUNCTIONING. I WILL UPDATE YOU ON HIS LOCATION. Dariat walked along the shoreline of the circumfluous saltwater reservoir as the light tube languished to a spectacular golden-orange. The cove was backed by a decaying earth bluff which tipped an avalanche of the pink Tallok-aboriginal grass onto the sand. Curving outgrowths of the xenoc plant resembled a meandering tideline, which gave him the impression of walking along a spit between two different coloured seas. The only sounds were of the water lapping against the sand, and the birds crying out as they flew back to land for the night. He had walked here many times as a child, an era when being alone meant happiness. Now he welcomed the solitude again; it gave him the mindspace to think, to formulate new subversion routines to insert into the neural strata; and he was free of Kiera and her greed and shallow ambitions. That second factor was becoming a dominant one. They had been looking for him ever since the Edenists destroyed the industrial stations. With both his knowledge of the habitat and energistically enhanced affinity it was absurdly easy to elude them. Few ever ventured down to the vast reservoir, preferring to cling to the camps around starscraper foyers. Without the tubes, it was a long journey across the grassland where malevolent servitor creatures lay in wait for the negligent. Trouble,rubra announced. Dariat ignored him. He could hide himself from the possessed easily enough. None of them knew enough about affinity to access the neural strata properly. As a consequence he no longer bothered hiding himself from Rubra anymore, nor did he bother with the linen-suited persona. It was all too stressful. The price of release came in the form of taunts and nerve games emanating from Rubra with unimaginative regularity. She’s found you, Dariat, she’s coming for you. And boy is she pissed. Certain he’d regret it, Dariat asked: Who? Bonney. There’s nine of them heading right at you in a couple of trucks. I think Kiera was saying something about returning with your head. Apparently, attachment to your body was considered optional. Dariat opened his affinity link with the neural strata just wide enough to hitch onto the observational sub-routines. Sure enough, two of the rugged trucks which the rentcops used were arrowing across the rosy grassland. “Shit.” They were heading straight for the cove, with about five kilometres left to go. How the hell did she find me? Beats me. Dariat stared straight up, following the line of the coast which looped behind the light tube. Is there someone above me with a high-rez sensor? If there is, I can’t spot them. In any case, I doubt a sensor would work for a possessed. Binoculars? Hell, it hardly matters. He couldn’t see the trucks with his eyes yet, the tall grass hid them. And his mind couldn’t perceive their thoughts, they were too far away. So just how had they found him? There is a tube station at the end of the cove,rubra said. They’ll never be able to catch you in that. I can take you to anywhere in the habitat. Thanks. And you’ll be able to run a thousand volts through me as soon as I step inside a carriage. Or had you forgotten? I don’t want you blown into the beyond. You know that. I’ve made my offer, and it stands. Come into the neural strata. Join your mind with me. Together we will annihilate them. Valisk can be purged. We will take them to dimensions where simply existing is an agony for them. Both of us will have revenge. You’re crazy. Make your mind up. I can hide you for a while while you decide. Is it to be me? Or is it to be Kiera? Dariat was still receiving the image of the trucks from the sensitive cells. They were rocking madly over the uneven ground as the drivers held them at their top speed. I think I’ll take a while longer to make up my mind.dariat started jogging for the tube station. After a minute, the trucks swung around to intercept him. “Bloody hell.” Horgan’s body was reasonably fit, but he was only fifteen years old. Dariat’s imagination bestowed him with athlete’s legs, bulky slabs of muscle packed tight under oil-glossed skin. His speed picked up. I wonder what that kind of overdrive does to your blood sugar levels? I mean, the power has to come from somewhere. Surely you’re not converting the energistic overspill from the beyond directly into protein? Save the science class till later.he could see the station ahead of him, a squat circular polyp structure bordering the bluff, like some kind of storage tank half-buried in the sand. The trucks were only a kilometre away. Bonney was standing up in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle, aiming her Enfield at him over the windscreen. Motes of white fire punched into the sand around him. He ducked down for the last fifty metres, using the bluff as cover as he scuttled for the station entrance. Inside, two broad escalators spiralled around each other, their steps moving sedately. A garishly coloured tubular hologram punctured the air up the centre of the shaft, adverts sliding along it. Dariat leapt onto the down escalator and sprinted recklessly, hands barely touching the rail. He made it to the bottom just as the trucks braked outside; Bonney charged towards the entrance. There was a carriage waiting on the station, a shiny white aluminum bullet. Dariat stopped, panting heavily, staring at the open door. Get in! Rubra’s mental voice contained a strong intimation of alarm, which Dariat could hardly credit. If you’re fucking me, I’ll come back. I’ll promise myself to Anstid for that one wish to be granted. Imagine my terror. I’ve told you, I need you intact and cooperative. Now get in. Dariat closed his eyes and took a step forwards, directly into the carriage. The door slid shut behind him, and there was a faint vibration as it started accelerating along the track. He opened his eyes. See?rubra taunted. Not such a bogey man after all. Dariat sat down and took some deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He used the sensitive cells to watch an apoplectic Bonney Lewin jump down from the empty platform to fire her Enfield along the dark tunnel. She was screaming obscenities. The accompanying hunters were standing well back. One of her boots was treading on the magnetic guide rail. Fry her,dariat said. Now! Oh, no. This is much more fun. This way I get to find out if the dead can have heart attacks. You are a complete bastard. That’s right. And to prove it, I’m going to show you Anastasia’s secret now. The one thing she never showed you. Dariat was instantly wary. More lies. Not this time. Don’t tell me you don’t want to find out. I know you, Dariat. Fully. I’ve always known. I know what she means to you. I know how much she means to you. Your memory of her was strong enough to power a grudge over thirty years. That’s almost inhuman, Dariat. I respect it enormously. But it leaves you wide open to me. Because you want to know, don’t you? There’s something I’ve got, or heard, or saw, that you didn’t. A little segment of Anastasia Rigel you don’t have. You won’t be able to live with that knowledge. I’ll be able to ask her soon. Her soul is waiting for me in the beyond. When I’ve dealt with you, I’ll go to her, and we’ll be together again. Soon will be too late. You’re unbelievable, you know that? Good. I’ll take you there. Whatever you like.dariat pushed his weariness behind the thought, showing just how unconcerned he was. Behind that, clutched away from the bravado and outward confidence, his teenage self huddled in worry. That same self which so idolized her. Now there was the chance, the remotest possibility that the image was flawed, less than honest. The doubt cut into him, weakening the core of resolution which had supported him for so terribly long. Anastasia would never keep anything from him. Would she? She loved him, she said so. The last thing she ever said, ever wrote. Rubra guided the tube carriage to a starscraper lobby station and opened the door. It’s waiting on the thirty-second floor. Dariat glanced cautiously out onto the little station and the wide passage which led to the lobby itself. His mind could sense the thoughts of the possessed camped outside the lobby. No one showed any interest in him. He hurried across the floor to the bank of lifts in the centre, reaching them unnoticed. The lift deposited him at the thirty-second-floor vestibule. A completely normal residential section; twenty-four mechanical doors leading to apartments, and three muscle membranes for the stairwells. One of the mechanical doors slid open to show a darkened living room. Dariat could sense someone inside, a dozing mind, its thought currents placid. When he tried to use the observation sub-routines for the bedroom he found he couldn’t, Rubra had wiped them. Oh, no, my boy, you go right in there and face your fate like a man. Dariat flinched. But . . . one unaware non-possessed. How bad could it be? He walked into the apartment, ordering the electrophorescent cells to full intensity. Thankfully, they responded. It was a woman who lay on the big bed, a duvet had worked downwards to reveal her shoulders. Her skin was very black, with the minute crinkles which spelt out the onset of middle age and the start of weight problems for anyone without much geneering in their ancestry. A tangle of finely braided jet-black hair was fanned out over the pillows, every strand tipped with a moondust-white bead. She groaned sleepily as the light came on, and turned over. Despite a face which cellulite was busy inflating, she had a petit nose. NO! For one moment horror claimed his senses. She was similar to Anastasia. Features, colour, even the age was almost right. If a medical team had gone out to the tepee, they might have reanimated the body, a hospital might conceivably have used extensive gene therapy to regenerate the dead brain cells. It could be done, for the President of Govcentral or Kulu’s heir apparent, the effort would be made. But not a Starbridge girl regarded as vermin by the personality of the habitat in which she dwelt. The cold shock subsided. Whoever she was, as soon as she saw him, she screamed. “It’s all right,” Dariat said. He couldn’t even hear his own voice above her distraught wails. “Rubra! One of them’s here. Rubra, help me.” “No,” Dariat said. “I’m not. Well . . .” “Rubra! RUBRA.” “Please,” Dariat implored. That silenced her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m running from them myself.” “Uh huh?” Her gaze darted to the door. “Really. Rubra brought me here, too.” The duvet was readjusted. Slim bronze and silver bracelets tinkled as she moved. Dariat’s chill returned. They were exactly the same kind of bracelets Anastasia wore. “Are you a Starbridge?” She nodded, wide-eyed. Wrong question,rubra said. Ask her what her name is. He hated himself. For giving in, for playing to Rubra’s rules. “Who are you?” “Tatiana,” she gulped. “Tatiana Rigel.” Rubra’s mocking, triumphant laughter shook his skull from the inside. Got it now, boy? Meet Anastasia’s little sister. #149; #149; #149; Another day, another press conference. At least this new technology had progressed beyond flashbulbs; Al had always hated them back in Chicago. More than once he had been photographed raising a hand to ward off the brilliant bursts of light; photos which the papers always ran, because it looked as if he were trying to hide, confirming his guilt. He had held the press conference in the Monterey Hilton’s big ballroom, sitting at a long table with his back to the window. The idea was that the reporters would see the formation of victorious fleet ships which had just returned from Arnstadt, and were holding station five kilometres off the asteroid. Leroy Octavius said it should make an impressive backdrop for the dramatic news announcement. Except the starships weren’t quite in the right coordinate, so they were only just visible when rotation did bring them into view; the reporters had to look around the side of the table to see them. And everybody knew the Organization had conquered Arnstadt and Kursk, it wasn’t new even though this made it sort of official. Drama and impact, that was the sole purpose. So Al sat at the long table with its inappropriate vases of flowers; Luigi Balsmao on one side, and a couple of other ship captains on the other. He told the reporters how easy it had been to break open Arnstadt’s SD network, the eagerness of the population to accept the Organization as a government after a “minimum number” of key administrative people had been possessed. How the star system’s economy was turning around. “Did you use antimatter, Al?” Gus Remar asked. A weary veteran of these affairs now, he reckoned he knew what liberties he could take. Capone did have a weird sense of honour operating; nobody got blasted for trying to work an angle, only outright opposition earned his disapprobation. “That’s a dumb kinda question, pal,” Al replied, keeping the scowl from his face. “What do you want to ask that for? We got plenty of interesting dope on how the Organization is curing all sorts of medical problems which the non-possessed bring to our lieutenants. You people, you always look for the bad side. It’s like a goddamn obsession with you.” “Antimatter is the biggest horror the Confederation knows, Al. People are bound to be interested in the rumours. Some of the ships’ crews say they fired antimatter powered combat wasps. And the industrial stations here are producing antimatter confinement systems. Have you got a production station, Al?” Leroy Octavius, who was standing behind Al, leaned forwards and whispered something in his ear. Some of the humour returned to Al’s stony face. “I can neither confirm nor deny the Organization has access to invincible weapons.” It didn’t stop them from asking again and again. He lost the press conference then. There wasn’t any chance to read out the dope Leroy had prepared on the medical bonus, and how they’d prevented the kind of food shortages on Arnstadt which were being reported as affecting other possessed worlds. Asked at the end if he was planning another invasion, Al just growled: “Wait and see,” then walked out. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll embargo the whole conference,” Leroy said as they took a lift down to the bottom of the hotel. “They ought to show some goddamn respect,” Al grunted. “If it wasn’t for me they’d be possessed and screaming inside their own heads. Those bastards never fucking change.” “You want us to lean on them a little?” Bernhard Allsop asked. “No. That would be stupid. The only reason the Confederation news companies take our reports is because they’re from non-possessed.” Al hated it when Bernhard tried to be tough and demonstrate his loyalty. I should have him wasted, he’s becoming a complete pain in the ass. But wasting people wasn’t so easy these days. They’d come back in another body, and carry a grudge the size of Mount Washington. God The lift doors opened on the hotel’s basement, a windowless level given over to environmental machinery, large pumps, and condensation-smeared tanks. A boxing ring had been set up at the centre, surrounded by the usual training paraphernalia of exercise bikes, histeps, weights, and punch bags: Malone’s gym. Whenever he wanted to loosen up, Al came down here. He’d always enjoyed sports back in Chicago; going to the game was an Avram Harwood had run a check on professions listed in the Organization’s files, and found Malone, who claimed to have worked as a boxing trainer in New York during the 1970s. Al marched into the gym area trailed by five of his senior lieutenants, Avram Harwood, and a few other hangers-on like Bernhard. It was noisy in the basement anyway, with the pumps thrumming away, and in the gym with music playing and men pounding away at leather punch bags you had to shout to be heard. This was the way it should be: the smell of leather and sweat, grunts as sparring blows hit home, Malone yelling out at his star pupils. “How’s it going?” Al asked the trainer. Malone shrugged, his heavy face showing complete misery. “Today’s people, they gone soft, Al. They don’t want to hit each other, they think it’s immoral or something. We ain’t gonna find no Ali or Cooper on this world. But I got a few contenders, kids who’ve had it hard. They’re working out okay.” A fat finger indicated the two young men in the ring. “Joey and Gulo, here, they could have what it takes.” Al cast an eye over the two boxers dancing around in the ring. Both of them were big, fit-looking kids, wearing colourful protective gear. He knew enough about the basics to see they were holding themselves right, though they were concentrating too much on defence. “I’ll just watch awhile,” Al told Malone. “Sure thing, Al. Help yourself. Hey! Gulo, close the left, the left, asswipe.” Joey saw his opening and landed a good right on Gulo’s face. Gulo went for a body lock, and both of them bounced on the ropes. “Break, break,” the ref cried. Al pulled up a stool and gazed contentedly at the two combatants. “All right, what’s the order of play for today? Speak to me, Avvy.” The ex-mayor’s body twitches were getting worse, Al noticed. And some of the weals still hadn’t healed over despite a couple of attempts by Al’s possessed lieutenants to heal them. Al didn’t like having so much resentment and hostility festering close by. But the guy sure knew how to administrate; replacing him now would be a bitch. “We now have fifteen delegations from outsystem who have arrived,” Avram Harwood said. “They all want to see you.” “Outsystem, huh?” Al’s flagging interest started to perk up. “What do they want?” “Your assistance, basically,” Avram said. He didn’t hide his displeasure. Al ignored it. “For what?” “All of them are from asteroid settlements,” Patricia Mangano said. “The first bunch that came here are from Toma, that’s in the Kolomna system. Their problem is that the asteroid only has a population of ninety thousand. That gives them enough energistic power to shift it out of this universe easily enough. But then they realized that spending the rest of eternity inside a couple of modestly sized biosphere caverns which are totally dependent on technology wasn’t exactly going to be a whole load of fun. Especially when nearly a third of the possessed come from pre-industrial eras.” “Goddamn, this is what I’ve been telling people all along,” Al said expansively. “There ain’t no point in vanishing whole planets away, not until we got the Confederation licked.” Several of the trainee boxers had drifted over to stand close by. As if aware of the growing interest, Joey and Gulo were increasing their efforts to knock each other senseless. Malone’s rapid-fire monotone picked up momentum. “So what has this got to do with me?” Al asked. “The Toma people want to move everyone to Kolomna.” “Je-zus!” “They want our fleet to help them. If we chose Kolomna as our next invasion target we will receive their total cooperation for as long as you want it. Every industrial station in the system will be given over to supporting the fleet, every starship captured will be converted to carry weapons or troops, they’ll bring the planetary population into order along Organization lines. They say they want to sign up as your lieutenants.” Al was flattered, it turned his whole day around. Out in the ring, both boxers were perspiring heavily. Blood was trickling out of Gulo’s mouth. Joey’s left eye was bruised. Cheers and whistles were swelling from the spectators. “Risky,” Luigi said. “Kolomna is First Admiral Aleksandrovich’s homeworld. He probably wouldn’t take too kindly to it. I wouldn’t if I was him. Besides, we’re still getting things in order for Toi-Hoi.” Al rocked back on the stool and materialized one of his Havanas, its end was already alight. “I’m not too worried about that Admiral getting pissed with me, not with what I’ve got in store for him. Any chance we can split the fleet, send some ships to Kolomna?” “Sorry, boss, that’s some of the bad news I’ve got for you,” Luigi said. “The Confederation is really hassling us bad at Arnstadt. They’ve got voidhawks flying above both poles dropping invisible bombs on the SD platforms in orbit. Stealth, the bastards call it. We’re losing a shitload of hardware every day. And the non-possessed population are putting up some resistance—quite a lot, actually. The new lieutenants we’ve appointed are having to use a whole load of force to establish our authority. It gives them a sense of independence, so we have to use the SD platforms to make them see reason, too. Except the Confederation is knocking the platforms out one at a time, so instead we gotta use starships to substitute, and they’re just as vulnerable.” “Well, fuck it, Luigi,” Al stormed. “Are you telling me, we’re gonna lose?” “No way!” an indignant Luigi protested. “We’re launching our own patrols up above the poles. We’re hassling them right back, Al. But it takes five or six of our ships to block one of their goddamn voidhawks.” “They’re bogging us down out there,” Silvano Richmann said. “It’s quite deliberate. We’re also losing ships out among Arnstadt’s settled asteroids. The voidhawks make lightning raids, fling off a dozen combat wasps and duck away before we can do anything about it. It’s a shitty way of fighting, Al, nothing is head on anymore.” “Modern navies are built around the concept of rapid tactical assault,” Leroy said. “Their purpose is to inflict damage over a wide front so that you have to overstretch your defences. They’ve adopted a guerilla policy to try and wear down our fleet.” “Fucking cowards’ way of fighting,” Silvano grumbled. “It’ll get worse,” Leroy warned. “Now they’ve seen how effective it is against Arnstadt, they’ll start doing it here. New California’s SD network is just as vulnerable to stealth mines. Our advantage is that the Organization is now up and running on the planet. We don’t need to enforce it the way we do on Arnstadt. I think we only used a ground strike ten times last week.” “Twelve,” Emmet corrected. “But we do have a lot of industrial capacity in orbit. I’d hate to lose much of it to a stealth strike campaign. Our outer system asteroid settlements really aren’t supplying us with anything like the material they should be, production simply doesn’t match capacity at all.” “That’s because we essentially have the same problem as the outsystem delegations,” Leroy said. “Go on,” Al said glumly; he was rolling the cigar absently between his fingers, its darkened tip pointing down. But he still hadn’t taken his eyes off the fight. Joey was sagging now, swaying dazedly, while the blood from Gulo’s face was flowing freely down his chest to splatter the floor of the ring. No bell was going to be rung; it wouldn’t finish now until one of them fell. “Every possessed wants to live on a planet,” Leroy said. “Asteroids don’t have an adequate population base to sustain a civilization for eternity. We’ve started to see a lot of inter-orbit craft heading towards New California from the settlements. And for every possessed on their way, there are another ten waiting for the next ship.” “Goddamnit,” Al shouted. “When those skid-row assholes get here, you send them right back where they came from. We need those asteroid factories working at full steam ahead. You got that?” “I’ll notify SD Command,” Leroy said. “Make sure they know I ain’t fucking joking.” “Will do.” Al relit his cigar by glaring at it. “Okay, so, Luigi, when can we start to take out the Toi-Hoi system?” Luigi shrugged. “I’ll be honest with you, Al, our original timetable ain’t looking too good here.” “Why not?” “We thought we’d almost double the fleet size with Arnstadt’s ships. Which we have done. But then we need a lot of them to keep order in that system, and reliable crews are getting hard to find. Then there’s Kursk. We made a mistake with that one, Al, the place ain’t worth a bucket of warm spit. It’s those hillbilly redneck farmers. They just won’t roll over.” “That’s where Mickey is right now,” Silvano said. “He’s trying to run an offensive which will bring them to heel. It’s not easy. The tricky bastards have taken to the countryside. They’re hiding in trees and caves, a whole load of places the satellite sensors can’t find them. And the Confederation is hitting us big-time with those stealth weapons, like Arnstadt was just a warm-up. We’re losing three or four ships a day.” “I think Luigi is right when he said we made a mistake invading Kursk,” Emmet said. “It’s costing us a bundle, and returning zippo. I say pull the fleet out; let the possessed on the ground take care of the planet in their own time.” “That’ll mean the Organization won’t have any clout there,” Patricia said. “Once everyone’s possessed, they’ll snatch it clean out of the universe.” “The only thing it ever gave to us was propaganda,” Leroy said. “We can’t work that angle anymore. Emmet’s right. I don’t think we should be aiming at any planet lower than stage four, one that can replace our losses, as a minimum requirement.” “That sounds solid to me,” Al agreed. “I don’t like losing Kursk, but spelt out like that I don’t see that we’ve got one whole hell of a choice. Luigi, get Mickey back here, tell him to bring all the ships and as many of our soldiers as he can. I want to go for Toi-Hoi as soon as you can load up with supplies. People will think we’ve stalled otherwise; and it’s important to keep the momentum going.” “You got it, boss. I’d like to send Cameron Leung as the messenger, if you ain’t using him. It’ll be the quickest way, cut down on any more of our losses.” “Sure, no problem. Send him pronto.” Al blew a smoke ring at the distant ceiling. “Anything else?” Leroy and Emmet gave each other a resigned look. “There’s a lot of currency cheating going on,” Emmet said. “I suppose you could call it forgery.” “Je-zus, I thought you rocket scientists had that all figured out.” “Foolproof, you said,” Silvano said with a demon’s grin. “It should have been,” Emmet insisted. “Part of it is due to the way it’s being implemented. Our soldiers aren’t being entirely honest about the amount of time the possessed are devoting to redeeming their energistic debts. People are starting to complain. There’s a lot of restlessness building up down there, Al. You’re going to have to make it clear to the lieutenants how important it is to stick with the rules. The economy we’ve rigged up is shaky enough already without suffering this confidence crisis. If it fails, then we lose control and the planet goes wild, just like Kursk. You can’t use the SD platforms to waste everyone who disagrees with us; we need to be subtle about how we keep the majority in line.” “All right, all right.” Al waved a hand, nettled at the schoolmaster tone Emmet was using. “Based on what we’ve seen so far, I’m not sure a wild possessed population could even feed themselves. Certainly the cities would have to be abandoned as soon as the supply infrastructure collapses. You do need a large area of land under cultivation to support a city like San Angeles.” “Will you cut this “It’s about time you met with the groundside lieutenants again, Al,” Leroy said. “We can build on the fleet’s return, show how together we are up here, how they’d be nothing without us. Make them toe the line.” “Oh, Jesus H. Christ, not another fucking tour. I just got back!” “You’re in charge of two star systems, Al,” Leroy said matter-of-factly. “There are some things which have to be done.” Al winced. The fatboy manager was right, as goddamn always. This wasn’t a game to be picked up when he felt like it, this was different from before. In Chicago he’d climbed on the back of the power structure to advance himself; now he was the structure. That was when he finally realized the responsibility, and enormity, of what he’d created. If the Organization crashed, millions—living and resurrected—would fall beside him, their hopes smashed on the rocks of his selfish intransigence. Alcatraz was the result of his last brush with hubris. Alcatraz would be bliss compared to the suffering focused on him should he fail again. The fight which was limping to its conclusion was no longer the centre of attention; most of the possessed in the gym were staring at him strangely. They could see the muddle and horror in his mind. Leroy and Avram were waiting, puzzled by the sudden, uneasy silence. “Sure thing, Leroy,” Al said meekly. “I know what I’m in charge of. And I ain’t never been scared of doing what has to be done. Remember that. So set up that tour. You got that?” “Yes, sir.” “Makes a fucking change. Right, you guys all know what you gotta do. Do it.” Gulo landed one final blow in Joey’s stomach which sent him staggering backwards to collapse in a corner. Malone hopped over the ropes to examine the fallen man. Gulo stood over them, uncertain what to do next. Blood was dripping swiftly from his chin. “Okay, kid,” Malone said. “That’s it for the day.” Al flicked his cigar away and stood by the ropes. He beckoned Gulo over. “You did pretty damn good out there, boy. How long you been training?” Gulo slipped a blood-soaked gumshield from his mouth. “Nine days, Mr Capone, sir,” he mumbled. Little flecks of blood splattered Al’s suit jacket as he wheezed painfully. Al took hold of the kid’s head with one hand and turned it from side to side, examining the bruises and cuts inside the sparring helmet. He concentrated hard, feeling a cold tingle sweeping along his arm to infect the kid’s face through his fingertips. The bleeding stopped, and the grazed bruising deflated slightly. “You’ll do okay,” Al decided. Jezzibella was lounging on the circular bed. A wall-mounted holoscreen showed her an image of the gym relayed by a sensor high in the ceiling. Emmet, Luigi, and Leroy clustered together, discussing something in sober tones, their amplified murmurs filling the bedroom. “Hard day at the office, lover?” Jezzibella asked. It was a persona of toughness wrapping a tender heart. Her face was very serious, fine features slightly flushed. A longish bob hairstyle cupped her cheeks. “You saw it,” he said. “Yeah.” She uncurled her legs and stood up, wrestling with the fabric of her long silky white robe. There was no belt, and it was open to the waist, allowing a very shapely navel to peek out. “Come here, baby. Lie down.” “Best goddamn offer I’ve had all day.” He was bothered by his own lack of enthusiasm. “Not that; you need to relax.” Al grunted disparagingly, but did as he was told. When he was lying on his back he stuck his hands behind his head, frowning at the ceiling. “Crazy. Me of all people; I should’ve known what was going to happen with the money. Everyone skims and everyone scams. What made me think my soldiers were going to be square shooters?” Jezzibella planted a foot on either side of his hips, then sat down. Her robe’s fabric must have carried one hell of a static charge, he guessed, there was no other reason why it should cling to her skin at all the strategic zones. Her fingers dug into the base of his neck, thumbs probing deep. “Hey, what is this?” “I’m trying to get you to relax, remember? You’re so tense.” Her fingers were moving in circles now, almost strumming his hot muscle cords. “That’s good,” he admitted. “I should really have some scented oils to do this properly.” “You want I should try and dream some up?” He wasn’t too certain he could imagine smells the way he could shapes. “No. Improvising can be fun, you never know what you might discover. Turn over, and get rid of your shirt.” Al rolled over, yawning heavily. He rested his chin on his hands as Jezzibella began to move her fingertips along his spine. “I dunno what I hate most,” Al said. “Retreating from Kursk, or admitting how right that shitty slob Leroy was.” “Kursk was a strategic withdrawal.” “Running away is running away, doll. Don’t matter how you dress it up.” “I think I’ve found something that might help you with Arnstadt.” “What’s that?” She leaned over to the bedside cabinet and picked up a small processor block, tapping the keyboard. “I only saw this recording today. Leroy should have brought it to me earlier. Apparently it’s all over the Confederation. We got it from one of the outsystem delegations that arrived to plead with you.” The holoscreen switched from the gym to showing Kiera Salter lounging on her boulder. “Yep, that certainly perks me up,” Al said cheerfully. Jezzibella slapped his rump. “Just you behave, Al Capone. Forget her tits, listen to what she’s saying.” He listened to the enticing words. “She’s actually rather good,” Jezzibella said. “Especially considering it’s AV only, no naughty sensory activants to hammer home the message. I could have done it better, of course, but then I’m a professional. But that recording is pulling in dissatisfied kids from every asteroid settlement that ever received a copy. They call it Deadnight.” “So? Valisk is one of those frigging freaky habitat places. She’s hardly gonna be a threat to us no matter how many people go there.” “It’s how they get there which interests me. Kiera has managed to take over Valisk’s blackhawks, they call them hellhawks.” “Yeah?” “Yes. And all they’re doing is ferrying idiot kids to the habitat. She is facing the same problem as all the possessed asteroid settlements. They’re not the kinds of places you want to spend eternity in. My guess is that she’s trying to beef up Valisk’s population so the ones already there don’t push to land on a planet. It makes sense. If they did move, Kiera wouldn’t be top dog anymore.” “So? I never said she was dumb.” “Exactly. She’s organized. Not on the scale you are, but she’s smart, she understands politics. She’d make an excellent ally. We can supply her with people a lot faster than she can acquire them through clandestine flights. And in return, she loans us a couple of squadrons of these hellhawks, which the fleet desperately needs. They’d soon put a stop to the Confederation’s stealth attacks.” “Damn!” He shuffled around inside the cage of her legs to see her poised above him, hands on her hips, content smile on her lips. “That’s good, Jez. No it ain’t, it’s fucking brilliant. Hell, you don’t need me, you could run this Organization by yourself.” “Don’t be silly. I can’t do what you do to me, not solitaire.” He growled hungrily and reached for the robe. Marie Skibbow’s golden face smiled down on them as more and more of their clothing vanished, some into thin air, some into torn strips. #149; #149; #149; The First Admiral waited until Captain Khanna and Admiral Lalwani seated themselves in front of his desk, then datavised the desktop processor for a security level one sensenviron conference. Six people were waiting around the oval table in the featureless white bubble room which formed around him. Directly opposite Samual Aleksandrovich was the Confederation Assembly President, Olton Haaker, with his chief aide Jeeta Anwar next to him; the Kulu ambassador, Sir Maurice Hall, was on her left, accompanied by Lord Elliot, a junior minister from the Kulu Foreign Office; the Edenist ambassador, Cayeaux, and Dr Gilmore took the remaining two chairs. “This isn’t quite our usual situation briefing today, Admiral,” President Haaker said. “The Kulu Kingdom has made a formal request for military aid.” Samual Aleksandrovich knew his face was showing a grimace of surprise, his sensenviron image, however, retained a more dignified composure. “I had no idea any of the Kingdom worlds were under threat.” “We are not facing any new developments, Admiral,” Sir Maurice said. “The Royal Navy is proving most effective in protecting our worlds from any strikes by possessed starships. Even Valisk’s hellhawks have stopped swallowing into our systems to peddle their damnable Deadnight subversion. And our planetary forces have contained all the incursions quite successfully. With the sorry exception of Mortonridge, of course. Which is why we are requesting your cooperation and assistance. We intend to mount a liberation operation, and free the citizens who have been possessed.” “Impossible,” Samual said. “We have no viable method of purging a body of its possessor. Dr Gilmore.” “Unfortunately, the First Admiral is correct,” the navy scientist said. “As we have found, forcing a returned soul to relinquish a body it has captured is extremely difficult.” “Not if they are placed in zero-tau,” Lord Elliot said. “But there are over two million people on Mortonridge,” Samual said. “You can’t put that many into zero-tau.” “Why not? It’s only a question of scale.” “You’d need . . .” Samual trailed off as various tactical programs went primary in his neural nanonics. “The help of the Confederation Navy,” Lord Elliot concluded. “Exactly. We need to move a large number of ground troops and matériel to Ombey. You have transport and assault starships which aren’t really involved with enforcing the civil starflight quarantine. We’d like them to be reassigned to the campaign. The combined resources of our own military forces, our allies, and the Confederation Navy ought to be sufficient to liberate Mortonridge.” “Ground troops?” “We will initially be providing the Kingdom with half a million bitek constructs,” Ambassador Cayeaux said. “They should be able to restrain individual possessed, and force them into a zero-tau pod. Their deployment will insure the loss of human life is kept to a minimum.” “ “Yes.” “I see.” “The Edenist constructs will have to be backed up by a considerable number of regular soldiers to hold the ground they take,” Sir Maurice said. “We would also like you to assign two brigades of Confederation Marines to the campaign.” “I’ve no doubt your tactical evaluations have convinced you about the plausibility of this liberation,” Samual said. “But I must go on record as opposing it, and certainly I do not wish to devote my forces to what will ultimately prove a futile venture. If this kind of combined effort is to be made, it should at least be directed at a worthwhile target.” “His Majesty has said he will go to any lengths to free his subjects from the suffering being inflicted on them,” Lord Elliot said. “Does his obligation only extend to the living?” “Admiral!” Haaker warned. “I apologize. However you must appreciate that I have a responsibility to the Confederation worlds as a whole.” “Which so far you have demonstrated perfectly.” “So far?” “Admiral, you know the status quo within the Confederation cannot be maintained indefinitely,” Jeeta Anwar said. “We cannot afford it.” “We have to consider the political objectives of this conflict,” Haaker said. “I’m sorry, Samual, but logic and sound tactics aren’t the only factors at play here. The Confederation must be seen to be doing something. I’m sure you appreciate that.” “And you have chosen Mortonridge as that something?” “It is a goal which the Kingdom and the Edenists think they can achieve.” “Yes, but what would happen afterwards? Do you propose to take on every possessed planet and asteroid in a similar fashion? How long would that take? How much would it cost?” “I sincerely hope such a process would not have to be repeated,” Cayeaux said. “We must use the time it takes to liberate Mortonridge to search for another approach to the problem. However, if there is no answer, then similar campaigns may indeed have to be mounted.” “Which is why this first one must succeed,” Haaker said. “Are you ordering me to redeploy my forces?” Samual asked. “I’m informing you of the request the Kulu Kingdom and the Edenists have made. It is a legitimate request made by two of our strongest supporters. If you have an alternative proposal, then I’ll be happy to receive it.” “Of course I don’t have an alternative.” “Then I don’t think you have any reason to refuse them.” “I see. If I might ask, Ambassador Cayeaux, why does your Consensus agree to this?” “We agreed to it for the sake of the hope it will provide to all the living in the Confederation. We do not necessarily approve.” “Samual, you’ve done a magnificent job so far,” Lalwani said. “We know this liberation is only a sideshow, but it will gain us a great deal of political support. And we are going to need every scrap of support we can find in the coming weeks.” “Very well.” Samual Aleksandrovich paused in distaste. What upset him most was how well he understood their argument, almost sympathising with it. Image had become the paramount motivation, the way every war was fought for politicians. But in this I am no different from military commanders down the centuries, we always have to play within the political arena in order to fight the real battle. I wonder if my illustrious predecessors felt so soiled? “Captain Khanna, please ask the general staff to draw up fleet redeployment orders based on the request from the Kulu Kingdom ambassador.” “Yes, sir.” “I wish your King every success, Ambassador.” “Thank you, Admiral. We do not wish to disrupt your current naval operations. Alastair does understand the importance of the role you are playing.” “I’m glad of that. There are going to be some difficult decisions for all of us ahead; his patronage will be essential. As I have said from the beginning, this requires an ultimate solution that can never be purely military.” “Have you considered the proposal Capone made?” Sir Maurice asked. “I know if any of the possessed can be seen in terms of a conventional enemy, it’s him. But could bitek construct bodies be made to work?” “We examined it,” Maynard Khanna said. “In practical terms it is completely inviable. The numbers are impossible. A conservative estimate for the Confederation’s current population is nine hundred billion, which averages out at just over one billion per star system. Even if you assume only ten dead people for everyone living, there must be approximately ten trillion souls in the beyond. If they were each given a construct body, where would they live? We would have to find between three to five thousand new terracompatible planets for them. Clearly an impossible task.” “I would contend that number,” Cayeaux said. “Laton quite clearly said that not every soul remains imprisoned in the beyond.” “Even if it was only a single trillion, that would still mean locating several hundred planets for them.” “Laton’s information interests me,” Dr Gilmore said. “We have been assuming all along that it is incumbent on us to provide a final solution. Yet if souls can progress from the beyond to some other state of existence, then clearly it is up to them to do so.” “How would we make them?” Haaker asked. “I’m not sure. If we could just find one of them who would cooperate we could make so much more progress; someone like that Shaun Wallace character who was interviewed by Kelly Tirrel. Those we have here in Trafalgar are all so actively hostile to our investigation.” Samual thought about making a comment concerning relevant treatment and behaviour, but Gilmore didn’t deserve public rebukes. “I suppose we could try a diplomatic initiative. There are several isolated asteroid settlements which have been possessed and yet haven’t moved themselves out of the universe. We could make a start with them; send a message asking them if they will talk to us.” “An excellent proposal,” Haaker said. “It would cost very little, and if we obtain a favourable response I would be prepared to give a joint research project my full support.” The sensenviron ended, leaving Dr Gilmore alone in his office. He did nothing for several minutes while the last part of the meeting ran through his mind. A man who prided himself on his methodical nature, the embodiment of the scientific method, he wasn’t angry with himself, at the most he felt a slight irritation that he hadn’t reasoned this out earlier. If Laton was correct about souls moving on, then the beyond was not the static environment he had assumed until now. That opened up a whole range of new options. Dr Gilmore entered the examination room containing Jacqueline Couteur to find the staff on an extended break. Both quantum signature sensor arrays were missing from the overhead waldo arms. The electronics lab was rebuilding them once again, a near-continual process of refinement as they sought out the elusive transdimensional interface. Jacqueline Couteur was being fed. A trolley had been wheeled in beside the surgical bed, sprouting a thick hose which hung just over her mouth. Her black head restraint had been loosened slightly, allowing her to switch between the two nipples; one for water, the other a meat paste. Dr Gilmore walked through to stand next to the surgical bed. Her eyes followed his movement. “Good morning, Jacqueline; how are you today?” Her eyes narrowed contemptuously. Little wisps of steam licked up from the electrodes pressing against her skin. She opened her mouth and circled the plastic nipple with her tongue. “Fine, thank you, Dr Mengele. I’d like to speak to my lawyer, please.” “That’s interesting. Why?” “Because I’m going to sue you for every fuseodollar you own, and then have you shot down to a penal world in a one-way capsule. Torture is illegal in the Confederation. Read the Declaration of Rights.” “If you are in discomfort, you should leave. We both know you can do that.” “We’re not discussing my options at the moment. It is your actions which are in question. Now may I have my one phone call?” “I had no idea an immortal soul had civil rights. You certainly don’t show your victims much in the way of autonomy.” “My rights are for the courts to decide. By denying me access to legal representation for such a test case you are compounding your crime. However, if it bothers you, then I can assure you that Kate Morley would like to see a lawyer.” “Kate Morley?” “This body’s co-host.” Dr Gilmore gave an uncertain smile. This wasn’t going to plan at all. “I don’t believe you.” “Again, you take the role of the court upon yourself. Do you really think Kate enjoys being strapped down and electrocuted? You are violating her basic human rights.” “I’d like to hear her ask for a lawyer.” “She has just done that. If you don’t believe me, try running a voice print analysis. She said it.” “This is absurd.” “I want my lawyer!” Her voice rose in volume. “You, Marine, you are sworn to uphold the rights of Confederation citizens. I want a lawyer. Get me one.” The captain of the marine guard looked at Dr Gilmore for guidance. Everyone on the other side of the glass partition was staring in. Dr Gilmore relaxed and smiled. “All right, Jacqueline. You cooperate with us, we’ll cooperate with you. I will raise the topic with the First Admiral’s legal staff to see if they consider you are entitled to legal representation. But first I want you to answer a question for me.” “The accused have a right of silence.” “I’m not accusing you of anything.” “Clever, Doctor. Ask then. But don’t insult me by asking me to incriminate myself.” “When did your body die?” “In 2036. Do I get my lawyer now?” “And you were conscious the whole time you were in the beyond?” “Yes, you moron.” “Thank you.” Jacqueline Couteur gave him a highly suspicious glance. “That’s it?” “Yes. For now.” “How did that help you?” “Time passes in the beyond. That means it is subject to entropy.” “So?” “If your continuum decays, then the entities within it can die. More pertinently, they can be killed.” “She wants a Dr Gilmore flinched. “A lawyer.” “This is a joke, right?” “I’m afraid not.” He sighed reluctantly. “The problem is, while ordinarily I would dismiss such a request as sheer nonsense, it has opened something of a debate among the investigating staff. I know the Intelligence Service has extremely wide-ranging powers that supersede the Declaration of Rights; but personality debrief is normally conducted by another division. I’m not saying that what we’re doing to Couteur and the others isn’t necessary, I would just like to establish that our orders were drafted correctly, that is: legally. Naturally, I don’t wish to bother the First Admiral with such trivia at this time. So if you could raise the matter with the Provost General’s office I’d be grateful. Just for clarification, you understand.” #149; #149; #149; In appearance, Golomo was no different from any of the other gas giants found among the star systems of the Confederation. A hundred and thirty-two thousand kilometres in diameter, its ring band slightly denser than usual, its storm bands a raucous mix of twirled vermillion, pale azure, splashed with coffee-cup swirls of white strands. The abnormality for which it was renowned lurked several hundred kilometres below the furrowed surface of the outer cloud layer, down where the density and temperature had risen considerably. That was where the Edenists whose habitats colonized the orbital space above located life; a narrow zone where pressure reduced the speed of the turbulence, and the strange hydrocarbon gases developed an easy viscosity. Single cells like airborne amoebas, but the size of a human fist, could survive there. They always clustered together in great colonies, resembling blankets of beluga. Why they did it, nobody could work out, none of them were specialized, all of them were independent. Yet to find singletons was unusual, at least in the areas so far observed by the probes, which admittedly was a minute percentage of the planet. At any other time, Syrinx would dearly have loved to pay the research sites a visit. The old curiosity was still itching when Other days, other priorities,the voidhawk chided. Syrinx felt a hand patting hers; affinity was filled with if not quite sympathy, then certainly tolerance. She gave Ruben a droll glance and shrugged. Okay, another time.she borrowed the voidhawk’s powerful affinity voice to identify them to the Golomo Consensus; SD sensors were already locking on. The routine for each system they visited was identical: impart a summary of the Confederation’s strategic disposition, then there were accounts of new developments in neighbouring systems, which asteroids and planets faced the possibility of takeovers. In exchange, the Consensus provided an intelligence update on the local system. We are generally more law abiding than Adamists,oxley said. And there are more of them than us. That’s bound to produce a weighted picture. Don’t make excuses for them, Caucus said. Lack of education, and fear,syrinx said. That’s what’s doing it. We have to make allowances, I suppose. But at the same time, their attitude is going to be a real problem in the long term. In fact, it might mean there won’t even be a long term as far as they’re concerned. Apart from the Kulu Kingdom, and one or two other of the more disciplined societies,ruben’s suggestion was infected with irony. She delayed her answer as she became aware of a growing unease in Golomo’s Consensus. Voidhawks from the local defence force were popping in and out of wormholes, filling the affinity band with an excited buzz. What is the problem?she inquired. We are confirming that the Ethenthia asteroid settlement has fallen to possession,consensus informed Along with everyone else attuned to Consensus, Syrinx and her crew were immediately aware of the incoming message. Habitat senses perceived it as a violet star-point of microwaves, shining directly at Golomo from Ethenthia. “This is Erick Thakrar, CNIS captain; I’m the one Emonn Verona told you about. Or at least I hope he did. God. Anyway, the possessed have taken over Ethenthia now. You probably know that by now. I managed to make it to a starship, the Ngeuni is a stage one colony, Syrinx was automatically aware of its spatial location eleven light years away. When correlated with Ethenthia’s current position the alignment must have been very tenuous indeed. If Thakrar’s ship was as bad as he implied . . . The colony is still in its start-up stage, This is something I should follow up,syrinx told Consensus. We concur. It will be another day before Thakrar returns here, assuming his ship remains flightworthy. We’ll check Ngeuni to see if he got there.even as she spoke, energy was flowing through the voidhawk’s patterning cells. #149; #149; #149; Stephanie heard a loud mechanical screeching sound followed by a raucous siren blast. She grinned around at the children sitting at the kitchen table. “Looks like your uncle Moyo has found us some transport.” Her humour faded when she reached the bungalow’s front porch. The bus which was parked on the road outside was spitting light in every spectrum; its bodywork a tight-packed mass of cartoon flowers growing out of paisley fields. LOVE, PEACE, and KARMA flashed in nightclub neon on the sides. The darkest areas were its gleaming chrome hubcaps. Moyo climbed down out of the cab, busily radiating embarrassment. The doors at the back of the bus hissed open, and another man climbed down. She’d never seen anyone with so much hair before. The children were crowding around her, gazing out eagerly at the radiant carnival apparition. “Is that really going to take us to the border?” “How do you make it light up?” “Please, Stephanie, can I get inside?” Stephanie couldn’t say no to them, so she waved them on with a casual gesture. They swarmed over the small front lawn to examine the wonderment. “I can see how this should help us avoid any undue attention,” she said to Moyo. “Have you lost your mind?” A guilty finger indicated his new companion. “This is Cochrane, he helped me with the bus.” “So it was your idea?” “Surely was.” Cochrane bowed low. “Man, I “Good. Well now you’ve had it, you can say goodbye. I have to take these children out of here, and they’re not going in that “Won’t do you no good.” “Oh?” “He’s right,” Moyo said. “We can’t sneak about, not here. You know that. Everybody can sense everything in Mortonridge now.” “That’s still no reason to use this . . . this—” She thrust an exasperated arm out towards the bus. “It’s like gonna be a mobile Zen moment for those with unpure thoughts,” Cochrane said. “Oh, spare me!” “No really. Any cat catches sight of that bus and they’re gonna have to confront like their inner being, you know. It’s totally neat, a soul looking into its own soul. With this, you’re broadcasting goodness at them on Radio Godhead twenty-four hours a day; it’s a mercy mission that makes mothers weep for their lost children. My Karmic Crusader bus is going to shame them into letting you through. But like if you hit on people with a whole heavy military scene, like some kind of covert behind-the-lines hostility raid, you’ll waste all those good vibes your karma has built up. It’ll make it easy for all the cosmically uncool redneck dudes running loose out there to make it hard for us.” “Humm.” He did make an odd kind of sense, she admitted grudgingly. Moyo gave her a hopeful shrug, a loyalty which lent her a cosy feeling. “Well, we could try it for a few miles I suppose.” Then she gave Cochrane a suspicious look. “What do you mean, us?” He smiled and held his arms out wide. A miniature rainbow sprang up out of his palms, arching over his head. The children laughed and clapped. “Hey, I was at Woodstock, you know. I helped rule the world for three days. You need the kind of peaceful influence I exert over the land. I’m a friend to all living things, the unliving, too, now.” “Oh, hell.” #149; #149; #149; Erick still hadn’t activated the life-support capsule’s internal environmental systems. He was too worried what the power drain would do to the starship’s one remaining functional fusion generator. There certainly wasn’t enough energy stored in the reserve electron matrix cells to power up the jump nodes. Ngeuni’s star was a severe blue-white point a quarter of a light-year away. Not quite bright enough to cast a shadow on the hull, but well above first magnitude, dominating the starfield. His sensor image was overlaid with navigation graphics, a tunnel of orange circles which seemed to be guiding the Thankfully, the clipper’s fusion drive was capable of a seven-gee acceleration, and they weren’t carrying any cargo. It meant he had enough fuel to align the ship properly. Getting back to Golomo was going to be a problem, though. The flight computer warned him that the alignment manoeuvre was almost complete. Erick quickly loaded an emergency dump order into the flight computer, linking it to a monitor. If the confinement field fell below five per cent the generator would shut down and vent. For some reason he was devoid of all tension. Then he realized his medical program was flashing for attention. When he accessed it, he saw the packages were filtering out a deluge of toxins and neurochemicals from his bloodstream at the same time as they were issuing chemical suppressors. He grinned savagely around the SII suit’s oxygen tube. Neutering his own reflexes at precisely the time he needed them the most. Too many factors were building up against him. And still it didn’t really bother him, not snug in the heart of his semi-narcotic hibernation. The flight computer signalled that the jump coordinate was approaching. Sensors and heat dump panels began to sink down into their recesses. The main drive reduced thrust to zero. Erick fired the ion thrusters, keeping the Then the energy patterning nodes were fully charged. Finally he felt a distant sense of relief, and reduced the fusion generator output. The straining confinement field surged as the plasma stream shrank by ninety per cent inside half a second. Decaying failsoft components didn’t respond in time. An oscillation rippled along the tokamak chamber, tearing the plasma stream apart. The It emerged deep inside the Ngeuni system; at that instant a perfect inert sphere. The poise was shattered within an instant as the raging plasma tore through the tokamak’s casing and ripped out through the hull, loosing incandescent swords of ions in all directions. A chain reaction of secondary explosions began as cryogenic tanks and electron matrices detonated. The ship disintegrated amid a blaze of radioactive gases and ragged molten debris. Its life-support capsule came spinning out of the core of the explosion; a silvered sphere whose surface was gashed by veins of black carbon where energy bursts and tiny fragments had peppered the polished nultherm foam. As soon as it was clear of the boiling gases, emergency rockets fired to halt the capsule’s wild tumbling motion, a solid kick into stability. The beacon began to broadcast its shrill distress call. |
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