


Naked God:
Flight
======



Chapter 01
==========


Jay Hilton was sound asleep when every electrophorescent strip in the
paediatric ward sprang up to full intensity. The simple dream of her
mother broke apart like a stained-glass statue shattered by a powerful
gust of sharp white light; colourful splinters tumbling off into the
glare.

Jay blinked heavily against the rush of light, raising her head in
confusion. The familiar scenery of the ward hardened around her. She felt
so tired. It certainly wasnt morning yet. A huge yawn forced her mouth
open. All around her the other children were waking up in bleary-eyed
mystification. Holomorph stickers began reacting to the light,
translucent cartoon images rising up to perform their mischievous antics.
Animatic dolls cooed sympathetically as children clutched at them for
reassurance. Then the doors at the far end of the ward slid open, and the
nurses came hurrying in.

One look at the brittle smiles on their faces was all Jay needed.
Something was badly wrong. Her heart shivered. Surely not the possessed?
Not here?

The nurses began ushering children out of their beds, and along the
central aisle towards the doors. Complaints and questions were firmly
ignored.

Its a fire drill, the senior staff nurse called out. Come along,
quickly, now. I want you out of here and into the lifts. Pronto. Pronto.
He clapped his hands loudly.

Jay shoved the thin duvet back, and scuttled down off the bed. Her long
cotton nightie was tangled round her knees, which took a moment to
straighten. She was about to join the others charging along the aisle
when she caught the flickers of motion and light outside the window.
Every morning since shed arrived, Jay had sat in front of that window,
gazing solemnly out at Mirchusko and its giddy green cloudscape. Shed
never seen speckles of light swarming out there before.

<< Danger. >>

The silent mental word was spoken so quickly Jay almost didnt catch it.
Though the feel of Haile was unmistakable. She looked round, expecting to
see the Kiint ambling down the aisle towards her. But there was only the
rank of flustered nurses propelling children along.

Knowing full well she wasnt doing what she was supposed to, Jay padded
over to the big window, and pressed her nose against it. A slim band of
tiny blue-white stars had looped itself round Tranquillity. They were all
moving, contracting around the habitat. She could see now that they
werent really stars, they were lengthening. Flames. Brilliant, tiny
flames. Hundreds of them.

<< My friend. My friend. Lifeloss anguish. >>

Now that was definitely Haile, and intimating plenty of distress. Jay
took a step back from the window, seeing misty grey swirls where her face
and hands had pressed against it. Whats the matter? she asked the
empty air.

A cascade of new flames burst into existence outside the habitat.
Expanding knots blossoming seemingly at random across space. Jay gasped
at the sight. There were thousands of them, interlacing and expanding. It
was so pretty.

<< Friend. Friend. >>

<< Evacuation procedure initiated. >>

Jay frowned. The second mental voice came as a faint echo. She thought it
was one of the adult Kiint, possibly Lieria. Jay had only encountered
Hailes parents a few times. They were awfully intimidating, though
theyd been nice enough to her.

<< Designation. Two. >>

<< No. >>The adult responded forcefully. << Forbidden. >>

<< Designation. >>

<< You may not, child. Sorrow felt for all human suffering. But obedience
required. >>

<< No. Friend. My friend. Designation. Two. Confirmed. >>

Jay had never felt Haile so determined before. It was kind of scary.
Please? she asked nervously. Whats happening?

A torrent of light burst through the window. It was as if a sun had risen
over Mirchuskos horizon. All of space was alive with brilliant
efflorescences.

The adult Kiint said: << Evacuation enacted. >>

<< Designated. >>

Jay felt a wash of guilty triumph rushing out from her friend. She wanted
to reach out and comfort Haile, who she knew from the adults reaction
was in Big Trouble over something. Instead, she concentrated on forming a
beaming smile at the heart of her own mind, hoping Haile would pick it
up. Then the air around her was crawling as if she was caught in a breeze.

Jay! one of the nurses called. Come along sweetie, you . . .

The light around Jay was fading fast, along with the sounds of the ward.
She could just hear the nurses gasp of astonishment. The breeze abruptly
turned into a small gale, whipping her nightie around and making her
bristly hair stand on end. Some kind of grey fog was forming around her,
a perfectly spherical bubble of the stuff, with her at the centre. Except
she couldnt feel any dampness in the air. It darkened rapidly, reducing
the ward to weak spectral outlines. Then the boundary expanded at a speed
so frightening that Jay screamed. The boundary vanished, and with it any
sign of the ward. She was alone in space devoid of stars. And falling.

Jay put her hands to her head and screamed again, as hard as she possibly
could. It didnt put a stop to any of the horror. She paused to suck down
a huge breath. That was when the boundary reappeared out on the edge of
nowhere. Hurtling towards her so fast from every direction that she knew
the impact would squash her flat. She jammed her eyes shut. MUMMY!

Something like a stiff feather tickled the soles of her feet, and she was
abruptly standing on solid ground. Jay windmilled her arms for balance,
pitching forward. She landed hard on some kind of cool floor, her eyes
still tight shut. The air she gulped down was warmer than it had been in
the ward, and a lot more humid. Funny smell. Rosy light was playing over
her eyelids.

Still crouched on all fours, Jay risked a quick peep as she gathered
herself to scream again. The sight which greeted her was so incredible
that the breath stalled in her throat. Oh gosh, was all she eventually
managed to squeak.



Joshua initiated the ZTT jump with little enthusiasm. His downcast mood
was one which he shared with all the Lady Macs crew and passengersat
least, those who werent in zero-tau. To have achieved so much, only to
have their final triumph snatched away.

Except . . . Once the initial shock of discovering that Tranquillity had
vanished from its orbit had subsided, he wasnt frightened. Not for Ione,
or his child. Tranquillity hadnt been destroyed, there was at least that
comfort. Which logically meant the habitat had been possessed and
snatched out of the universe.

He didnt believe it.

But his intuition was hardly infallible. Perhaps he simply didnt want to
believe it. Tranquillity was home. The emotional investment he had in the
habitat and its precious contents was enormous. Tell anyone that
everything they ever treasured has been erased, and the reaction is
always the same. Whatever. His vacillation made him as miserable as the
rest of the ship, just for a different reason.

Jump confirmed, he said. Samuel, youre on.

Lady Mac had jumped into one of Trafalgars designated emergence zones, a
hundred thousand kilometres above Avon. Her transponder was already
blaring out her flight authority codes. Somehow Joshua didnt think that
would quite be enough. Not when you barged in unexpected on the
Confederations primary military base in the middle of a crisis like this
one.

Ive got distortion fields focusing on us, Dahybi said drolly. Five of
them, I think.

The flight computer alerted Joshua that targeting radars were locking on
to the hull. When he accessed the sensors rising out of their recesses,
he found three voidhawks and two frigates on interception courses.
Trafalgars strategic defence command was directing a barrage of
questions at him. He glanced over at the Edenist as he started to
datavise a response. Samuel was lying prone on his acceleration couch,
eyes closed as he conversed with other Edenists in the asteroid.

Sarha grinned round phlegmatically. How many medals do you think theyll
give us apiece?

Uh oh, Liol grunted. However many it is, we might be getting them
posthumously. I think one of the frigates has just realised our
antimatter drive is ever so slightly highly radioactive.

Great, she grumbled.

Monica Foulkes didnt like the sound of that; as far as the Confederation
Navy was aware, it was only Organization ships who were using antimatter.
She hadnt wanted to take Mzu back to Tranquillity, and she certainly
hadnt wanted to wind up at Trafalgar. But in the discussion which
followed their discovery of Tranquillitys disappearance, she didnt
exactly have the casting vote. The original agreement between herself and
Samuel had just about disintegrated when they rendezvoused with the
Beezling.

Then Calvert had insisted on the First Admiral being the final arbitrator
of what was to be done with Mzu, Adul, and himself. Samuel had agreed.
And she couldnt produce any rational argument against it. Silently, she
acknowledged that maybe the only true defence against more Alchemists
being built was a unified embargo covenant between the major powers.
After all, such an agreement almost worked for antimatter.

Not that such angst counted for much right now. Like ninety per cent of
her mission to date, the critical deciding factor was outside her
control. All she could do was stick close to Mzu, and make sure the prime
requirement of technology transfer wasnt violated. Though by allowing it
to be deployed against the Organization, shed probably screwed that up
too. Her debrief was shaping up to be a bitch.

Monica frowned over at Samuel, who was still silent, his brow creased up
in concentration. She added a little prayer of her own to all the unheard
babble of communication whirling around Lady Mac for the Navy to exercise
some enlightenment and tolerance.

Trafalgars strategic defence command told Joshua to hold his altitude,
but refused to grant any approach vector until his status was
established. The Navys emergence zone patrol ships approached to within
a cautious hundred kilometres, and took up a three-dimensional diamond
observation formation. Targeting radars remained locked on.

Admiral Lalwani herself talked to Samuel, unable to restrain her
incredulity as he explained what had happened. Given that the Lady
Macbeth contained not only Mzu and others who understood the Alchemists
principals, but a quantity of antimatter as well, the final decision on
allowing the ship to dock belonged to the First Admiral himself. It took
twenty minutes to arrive, but Joshua eventually received a flight vector
from strategic defence command. They were allocated a docking bay in the
asteroids northern spaceport.

And Joshua, Samuel said earnestly. Dont deviate from it. Please.

Joshua winked, knowing it was being seen by the hundreds of Edenists who
were borrowing the agents eyes to monitor Lady Macs bridge. What,
Lagrange Calvert, fly off line?

The flight to Trafalgar took eighty minutes. The number of antimatter
technology specialists waiting for them in the docking bay was almost as
great as the number of marines. On top of that were a large complement of
uniformed CNIS officers.

They werent stormed, exactly. No personal weapons were actually taken
out of their holsters. Though once the airlock tube was sealed and
pressurized, Lady Macs crew had little to do except hand over the
powerdown codes to a Navy maintenance team. Zero-tau pods were opened,
and the various bewildered occupants Joshua had accumulated during his
pursuit of the Alchemist were ushered off the ship. After a very thorough
body scan, the polite, steel-faced CNIS officers escorted everyone to a
secure barracks deep inside the asteroid. Joshua wound up in a suite that
would have done a four-star hotel credit. Ashly and Liol were sharing it
with him.

Well now, Liol said as the door closed behind them. Guilty of carrying
antimatter, flung in prison by secret police whove never heard of civil
rights, and after were dead, Al Capone is going to invite us to have a
quiet word. He opened the cherrywood cocktail bar and smiled at the
impressive selection of bottles inside. It cant get any worse.

You forgot Tranquillity being vanquished, Ashly chided. Liol waved a
bottle in apology.

Joshua slumped down into a soft black leather chair in the middle of the
lounge. It might not get worse for you. Just remember, I know what the
Alchemist does, and how. They cant afford to let me go.

You might know what it does, Ashly said. But with respect, Captain, I
dont think you would be much help to anyone seeking the technical
details necessary to construct another.

One hint is all it takes, Joshua muttered. One careless comment
thatll point researchers in the right direction.

Stop worrying, Josh. The Confederation passed that point a long time
ago. Besides, the Navy owes us big-time, and the Edenists, and the Kulu
Kingdom. We pulled their arses out of the fire. Youll fly Lady Mac
again.

Know what Id do if I was the First Admiral? Put me into a zero-tau pod
for the rest of time.

I wont let them do that to my little brother.

Joshua put his hands behind his head, and smiled up at Liol. The second
thing Id do, would be to put you in the pod next to mine.



Planets sparkled in the twilight sky. Jay could see at least fifteen of
them strung out along a curving line. The nearest one appeared a bit
smaller than the Earths moon. She thought that was just because it was a
long way off. In every other respect it was similar to any of the
Confederations terra-compatible planets, with deep blue oceans and
emerald continents, the whole globe wrapped in thick tatters of white
cloud. The only difference was the lights; cities larger than some of
Earths old nations gleamed with magisterial splendour. Entire weather
patterns of cloud smeared across the nightside diffused the urban
radiance, soaking the oceans in a perpetual pearl gloaming.

Jay sat back on her heels, staring up delightedly at the magical sky. A
high wall ringed the area she was in. She guessed that the line of
planets extended beyond those she could see, but the wall blocked her
view of the horizon. A star with a necklace of inhabited planets!
Thousands would be needed to make up such a circle. None of Jays
didactic memories about solar systems mentioned one with so many planets,
not even if you counted gas-giant moons.

<< Friend Jay. Safe. Gleefulness at survival. >>

Jay blinked, and lowered her gaze. Haile was trying to run towards her.
As always when the baby Kiint got overexcited her legs lost most of their
coordination. She came very close to tripping with every other step. The
sight of her lolloping about chaotically made Jay smile. It faded as she
began to take in the scene behind her friend.

She was in some kind of circular arena two hundred metres across, with an
ebony marble-like floor. The wall surrounding it was thirty metres high,
sealed with a transparent dome. There were horizontal gashes at regular
intervals along the vertical surface, windows into brightly lit rooms
that seemed to be furnished with large cubes of primary colours. Adult
Kiint were moving round inside, although an awful lot of them had stopped
what they were doing to look directly at her.

Haile thundered up; half-formed tractamorphic tentacles waving round
excitedly. Jay grabbed on to a couple of them, feeling them palpitate
wildly inside her fingers.

Haile! Was that you who did this?

Two adult Kiint were walking across the arena floor towards her. Jay
recognized them as Nang and Lieria. Beyond them, a black star erupted out
of thin air. In less than a heartbeat it had expanded to a sphere fifteen
metres in diameter, its lower quarter merging with the floor. The surface
immediately dissolved to reveal another adult Kiint. Jay stared at the
process in fascination. A ZTT jump, but without a starship. She focused
hard on her primer-level didactic memory of the Kiint.

<< I did, >>Haile confessed. Her tractamorphic flesh writhed in
agitation, so Jay just squeezed tighter, offering reassurance. << Only us
were designated to evacuate the all around at lifeloss moment. I included
you in designation, against parental proscription. Much shame.
Puzzlement. >>Haile turned her head to face her parents. << Query
lifeloss act approval? Many nice friends in the all around. >>

<< We do not approve. >>

Jay flicked a nervous gaze at the two adults, and pressed herself closer
against Haile. Nang formshifted his tractamorphic appendage into a flat
tentacle, which he laid across his daughters back. The juvenile Kiint
visibly calmed at the gesture of affection. Jay thought there was a
mental exchange of some kind involved, too, sensing a hint of compassion
and serenity.

<< Why did we not help? >>Haile asked.

<< We must never interfere in the primary events of other species during
their evolution towards Omega comprehension. You must learn and obey this
law above all else. However, it does not prevent us from grieving at
their tragedy. >>

Jay felt the last bit was included for her benefit. Dont be angry with
Haile, she said solemnly. I would have done the same for her. And I
didnt want to die.

Lieria reached out a tentacle tip, and touched Jays shoulder. << I thank
you for the friendship you have shown Haile. In our hearts we are glad
you are with us, for you will be completely safe here. I am sorry we
could not do more for your friends. But our law cannot be broken. >>

A sudden sensation of bleak horror threatened to engulf Jay. Did
Tranquillity really get blown up? she wailed.

<< We do not know. It was under a concerted attack when we left. However,
Ione Saldana may have surrendered. There is a high possibility the
habitat and its population survived. >>

We left, Jay whispered wondrously to herself. There were eight adult
Kiint standing on the arena floor now, all the researchers from
Tranquillitys Laymil project. Where are we? She glanced up at the
dusky sky again, and that awesome constellation.

<< This is our home star system. You are the first true human to visit. >>

But . . . Flashes of didactic memory tumbled through her brain. She
looked up at those enticing, bright planets again. This isnt Jobis.

Nang and Lieria looked at each other in what was almost an awkward pause.

<< No, Jobis is just one of our science mission outposts. It is not in
this galaxy. >>

Jay burst into tears.



Right from the start of the possession crisis the Jovian Consensus had
acknowledged that it was a prime target. Its colossal industrial
facilities were inevitably destined to produce a torrent of munitions,
bolstering the reserve stocks of Adamist navies which thanks to budgetary
considerations were not all they should be. The response of the Yosemite
Consensus to the Capone Organization had already shown what Edenism was
capable of achieving along those lines, and that was with a mere thirty
habitats. Jupiter had the resources of four thousand two hundred and
fifty at its disposal.

Requests for materiel support started almost as soon as Trafalgar issued
its first warning about the nature of the threat which the Confederation
was facing. Ambassadors requested and pleaded and called in every favour
they thought Edenism owed them to secure a place in production schedules.
Payment for the weapons involved loan agreements and fuseodollar
transfers on a scale which could have purchased entire stage-four star
systems.

On top of that, it was Edenism which was providing the critical support
for the Mortonridge Liberation in the form of serjeant constructs to act
as foot soldiers. It was the one utterly pivotal psychological campaign
waged against the possessed, proving to the Confederation at large that
they could be beaten.

Fortunately, the practical aspects of assaulting one or more habitats
were extremely difficult. Jupiter already had a superb Strategic Defence
network; and among the possessed only the Organization had a fleet which
could hope to mount any sort of large-scale offensive, and the distance
between Earth and New California almost certainly precluded that.
However, the possibility of a lone ship carrying antimatter on a
fanatical suicide flight was a strong one. And then there was the remote
possibility that Capone would acquire the Alchemist and use it against
them. Although Consensus didnt know how the doomsday device worked, a
ship certainly had to jump in to deploy it, which in theory gave the
Edenists an interception window to destroy the device before it was
deployed.

Preparations to solidify their defences had begun immediately. Fully one
third of the armaments coming out of the industrial stations were
incorporated into a massively expanded SD architecture. The 550,000-km
orbital band containing the habitats was the most heavily protected, with
the number of SD platforms doubled, and seeded with seven hundred
thousand combat wasps to act as mines. A further million combat wasps
were arranged in concentric shells around the massive planet out to the
orbit of Callisto. Flotillas of multi-spectrum sensor satellites were
dispersed among them, searching for any anomaly, however small, which
pricked the potent energy storms churning through space around the
gas-giant.

Over fifteen thousand heavily armed patrol voidhawks complemented the
static defences; circling the volatile cloudscape in elliptical,
high-inclination orbits, ready to interdict any remotely suspicious
incoming molecule. The fact that so many voidhawks had been taken off
civil cargo flights was actually causing a tiny rise in the price of He3,
the first for over two hundred and sixty years.

Consensus considered the economic repercussions to be a worthwhile trade
for the security such invulnerable defences provided. No ship, robot, or
inert kinetic projectile could get within three million kilometres of
Jupiter unless specifically permitted to do so.

Even a lone maniac would acknowledge an attempted attack would be the
ultimate in futility.



The gravity fluctuation which appeared five hundred and sixty thousand
kilometres above Jupiters equator was detected instantaneously. It
registered as an inordinately powerful twist of space-time in the
distortion fields of the closest three hundred voidhawks. The intensity
was so great that the gravitonic detectors in local SD sensor array had
to be hurriedly recalibrated in order to acquire an accurate fix.
Visually it appeared as a ruby star, the gravity field lensing Jupiters
light in every direction. Surrounding dust motes and solar wind particles
were sucked in, a cascade of pico-meteorites fizzing brilliant yellow.

Consensus went to condition-one alert status. The sheer strength of the
space warp ruled out any conventional starship emergence. And the
location was provocatively close to the habitats, a hundred thousand
kilometres from the nearest designated emergence zone. Affinity commands
from Consensus were loaded into the combat wasps drifting inertly among
the habitats. Three thousand fusion drives flared briefly, aligning the
lethal drones on their new target. The patrol voidhawks formed a
sub-Consensus of their own, designating approach vectors and swallow
manoeuvres to englobe the invader.

The warp area expanded out to several hundred metres, alarming individual
Edenists, though Consensus itself absorbed the fact calmly. It was
already far larger than any conceivable voidhawk or blackhawk wormhole
terminus. Then it began to flatten out into a perfectly circular
two-dimensional fissure in space-time, and the real expansion sequence
began. Within five seconds it was over eleven kilometres in diameter.
Consensus quickly and concisely reformed its response pattern.
Approaching voidhawks performed frantic fifteen-gee parabolas, curving
clear then swallowing away. An extra eight thousand combat wasps burst
into life, hurtling in towards the Herculean alien menace.

After another three seconds the fissure reached twenty kilometres in
diameter, and stabilized. One side collapsed inwards, exposing the
wormholes throat. Three small specks zoomed out of the centre. Oenone
and the other two voidhawks screamed their identity into the general
affinity band, and implored: << HOLD YOUR FIRE! >>

For the first time in its five hundred and twenty-one year history, the
Jovian Consensus experienced the emotion of shock. Even then, its
response wasnt entirely blunted. Specialist perceptual thought routines
confirmed the three voidhawks remained unpossessed. A five-second
lockdown was loaded into the combat wasps.

<< What is happening? >>Consensus demanded.

Syrinx simply couldnt resist it. << We have a visitor, >>she replied
gleefully. Her entire crew was laughing cheerfully around her on the
bridge.

The counter-rotating spaceport was the first part to emerge from the
gigantic wormhole terminus. A silver-white disk four and a half
kilometres in diameter, docking bay lights glittering like small towns
huddled at the base of metal valleys, red and green strobes winking
bright around the rim. Its slender spindle slid up after it, appearing to
pull the dark rust-red polyp endcap along.

That was when the other starships began to rampage out of the terminus;
voidhawks, blackhawks, and Confederation Navy vessels streaking off in
all directions. Jupiters SD sensors and patrol voidhawk distortion
fields tracked them urgently. Consensus fired guidance updates at the
incoming combat wasps, determinedly vectoring them away from the unruly
incursion.

The habitats main cylinder started to coast up out of the terminus, a
prodigious seventeen kilometres in diameter. After the first thirty-two
kilometres were clear, its central band of starscrapers emerged, hundreds
of thousands of windows agleam with the radiance of lazy afternoon
sunlight. Their bases just cleared the rim of the wormhole. There were no
more starships to come after that, only the rest of the cylinder. When
the emergence was complete, the wormhole irised shut and space returned
to its natural state. The flotilla of patrol voidhawks thronging round
detected a capacious distortion field folding back into the broad collar
of polyp around the base of the habitats southern endcap that formed the
bed of its circumfluous sea.

Consensus directed a phenomenally restrained burst of curiosity at the
newcomer.

<< Greetings, >>chorused Tranquillity and Ione Saldana. There was a
distinct timbre of smugness in the hail.



Dariat did the one thing which he had never expected to do again. He
opened his eyes and looked around. His own eyes in his own body; fat
unpleasant thing that it was, clad in his usual grubby toga.

The sight which greeted him was familiar: one of Valisks innumerable
shallow valleys out among the pink grass plains. If he wasnt completely
mistaken, it was the same patch of ground Anastasias tribe had occupied
the day she died.

This is the final afterlife? he asked aloud.

It couldnt be. There was an elusive memory, the same befuddlement as a
dream leaves upon waking. Of a sundering, of being torn out of . . .

He had fused with Rubra, the two of them becoming one, vanquishing the
foe by shunting Valisk to a realm, or dimension, or state, that the two
of them grasped was intrinsically adverse to the possessing souls.
Perhaps they had even created the new location by simply willing it to
be. And then time went awry.

He gave his surroundings a more considered examination. It was Valisk,
all right. The circumfluous sea was about four kilometres away, its
clusters of atolls easily recognizable. When he turned the other way, he
could see a fat black scar running down two-thirds of the northern endcap.

The light tube was dimmer than it should be, even accounting for the loss
of some plasma. It proffered a kind of twilight, but grey rather than the
magnificent golden sunset Dariat had experienced every day of his life.
The grass plain echoed that malaised atmosphere, it was uneasily torpid.
Its resident insects had curled up into dormancy; birds and rodents slunk
back reticently to their nests, even the flowers had shrugged off their
natural gloss.

Dariat bent down to pick an enervated poppy. And his chubby hand passed
clean through the stem. He stared at it in astonishment, for the first
time seeing that he was faintly translucent.

Shock finally liberated comprehension. A location hostile to possessors,
one which would exorcise them from their enslaved hosts, denying them
their energistic power. That was the destination he and Rubra had
committed the habitat to.

Oh, Thoale, you utter bastard. Im a ghost.



For nearly ten hours the lift capsule had skimmed down the tower linking
Supra-Brazil asteroid with the Govcentral state after which it was named,
a smooth, silent ride. The only clue to how fast the lift capsules
travelled (three thousand kilometres per hour) would come when they
passed each other. But as they clung to rails on the exterior of the
tower, and the only windows gave a direct view outward, such events
remained out of sight to their passengers. Deliberately so; watching
another capsule hurtling towards you at a combined speed of six thousand
kilometres per hour was considered an absolute psychological no-go zone
by the tower operators.

Just before it entered the upper fringes of the atmosphere, the lift
capsule decelerated to subsonic velocity. It reached the stratosphere as
dawn broke over South America. On Earth that was no longer an
invigorating sight; all the passengers saw was an unbroken murky-grey
cloud layer which covered most of the continent and a third of the South
Atlantic. Only when the lift capsule was ten kilometres above the
frothing upper layer could Quinn see the army of individual streamers
from which the gigantic cyclone was composed, flowing around each other
at perilous velocities. The seething mass was as compressed as any
gas-giant storm band, but infinitely drabber.

They descended into the slashing tendrils of cirrus, and the windows
immediately reverberated from the barrage of fist-sized raindrops. There
was nothing else to see after that, just formless smears of grey. A
minute before they reached the ground station, the windows went black as
the lift capsule entered the sheath which guarded the bottom of the tower
from the worst violence of the planets rabid weather.

Digits on the Royale Class lounges touchdown counter reached zero, an
event marked by only the slightest tremble as latch clamps closed round
the base of the lift capsule. The magnetic rail disengaged, and a
transporter rolled it clear of the tower, leaving the reception berth
clear for the next capsule. Airlock hatches popped open, revealing long
extendable corridors leading into the arrivals complex where treble the
usual numbers of customs, immigration, and security officers waited to
scan the passengers. Quinn sighed in mild resignation. Hed quite enjoyed
the trip down, mellowing out with all the facilities the Royale Class
lounge could provide. A welcome period of contemplation, assisted by the
Norfolk Tears hed been drinking.

He had arrived at Earth with one goal: conquest. Now at least he had some
notions how to go about subduing the planet for his Lord. The kind of
exponential brute force approach the possessed had used up to now just
wasnt an option on Earth. The arcologies were too isolated for that. It
was curious, but the more Quinn thought about it, the more he realized
that Earth was a representation of the Confederation in miniature. Its
vast population centres kept separate by an amok nature almost as lethal
as the interstellar void. Seeds of his revolution would have to be
planted very carefully indeed. If Govcentral security ever suspected an
outbreak of possession, the arcology in question would be quarantined.
And Quinn knew that even with his energistic powers there would be
nothing he could do to escape once the vac-trains had been shut down.

Most of the other passengers had disembarked, and the chief stewardess
was glancing in Quinns direction. He rose up from his deep leather seat,
stretching the tiredness from his limbs. There was absolutely no way hed
ever get past the immigration desk, let alone security.

He walked towards the airlock hatch, and summoned the energistic power,
mentally moulding it into the now familiar pattern. It crawled over his
body, needle spears of static penetrating every cell. A swift groan was
the only indication he showed of the grotesquery he experienced passing
through the gateway into the ghost realm. His heart stopped, his
breathing ceased, and the world about him lost its glimmer of substance.
The solidity of walls and floors was still present, but ephemeral.
Irrelevant if he really pressed.

The chief stewardess watched the last passenger step into the airlock,
and turned back to the bar. Secured below the counter were several
bottles of the complimentary Norfolk Tears and other expensive spirits
and liqueurs which her team had opened. They were careful never to leave
much, at most a third, before opening a new bottle. But a third of these
drinks was an expensive commodity.

She began inventorying all these bottles as empty in her stock control
block. The team would split them later, filling their personal flasks,
and take them home. As long as they didnt get too greedy the company
supervisor would let it pass. Her blocks datavise turned to nonsense.
She gave it an annoyed glare, and automatically rapped it against the
bar. That was when the lights started to flicker. Puzzled now, she
frowned up at the ceiling. Electrical systems were failing all over the
lounge. The AV pillar projection behind the bar had crashed into rainbow
squiggles, the airlock hatch activators were whining loudly, though the
hatch itself wasnt moving.

What? she grumbled. Power loss was just about impossible in the lift
capsules. Every component had multiple redundancy backups. She was about
to call the lift capsules operations officer when the lights steadied,
and her stock control block came back on line. Bloody typical, she
grunted. It still bothered her badly. If things could go wrong on the
ground, they could certainly go wrong half way up the tower.

She gave the waiting bottles a forlorn glance, knowing she was giving
them up if she logged an official powerdown incident report. The company
inspectorate authority would swarm all over the lift capsule. She
carefully erased the inventory file shed started, and datavised the
lounge processor for a channel to the operations officer.

The call never got placed. Instead she received a priority datavise from
the arrivals complex security office ordering her to remain exactly where
she was. Outside, an alarm siren started its high-pitched urgent wailing.
The sound made her jump, in eleven years of riding the tower shed only
ever heard it during practice drills.

The sirens clamour sounded muffled to Quinn. Hed watched the airlock
lights quiver, and sensed the delicate electronic patterns of nearby
processors storm wildly as he pushed himself through the gateway. There
was nothing he could do about it. It took all of his concentration to
marshal his energistic power into the correct pattern. Now it seemed that
pattern had an above-average giveaway effect on nearby electronicsthough
nothing had happened when hed slipped out of the ghost realm into the
Royale Class lounge at the start of the descent. Of course, he wasnt
exerting himself then, quite the opposite, hed actually been reining in
the power.

Ah well, something to remember.

Thick security doors were rumbling across the end of the corridor,
trapping stragglers among the passengers. Quinn walked past them, and
reached the door. It put up a token resistance as he pushed himself
through, as if it were nothing more than a vertical sheet of water.

The arrivals complex on the other side was made up from a series of
grandiose multi-level reception halls, stitched together by wave stairs
and open-shaft lifts. It could cope with seventy passenger lift capsules
disembarking at once; a capacity which had been operating at barely
twenty-five per cent since the start of the crisis. As Quinn made his way
out from the sealed admission chamber at the end of the corridor, his
first impression was that the air-conditioning grilles were pumping out
adrenaline gas.

Down below on the main concourse, a huge flock of people was running for
cover. They didnt know where they were going, the exits were all closed,
but they knew where they didnt want to be, and that was anywhere near a
lift capsule that was crammed full of possessed. They were damn sure
there was no other reason for a security alert of such magnitude.

Up on Quinns level, badly hyped security guards in bulky kinetic armour
were racing for the admission chamber. Officers were screaming orders.
All the passengers from the lift capsule were being rounded up at
gunpoint and being made to assume the position. Anyone who protested was
given a sharp jab with a shock rod. Three stunned bodies were already
sprawled on the floor, twitching helplessly. It encouraged healthy
cooperation among the remainder.

Quinn went over to the rank of guards who were forming a semicircle
around the door to the admission chamber. Eighteen of the stubby rifles
were lined up on it. He walked round one guard to get a closer look at
the weapon. The guard shivered slightly, as if a chilly breeze was
finding its way through the joint overlaps of her armour. Her weapon was
some kind of machine pistol. Quinn knew enough about munitions to
recognise it as employing chemical bullets. There were several grenades
hanging from her belt.

Even though Gods Brother had granted him a much greater energistic
strength than the average possessed, he would be very hard pressed to
defend himself against all eighteen of them firing at him. Earth was
obviously taking the threat of possession very seriously indeed.

A new group of people had arrived to move methodically among the
whimpering passengers. They werent in uniforms, just ordinary blue
business suits, but the security officers deferred to them. Quinn could
sense their thoughts, very calm and focused in comparison to everyone
else. Intelligence operatives, most likely.

Quinn decided not to wait and find out. He retreated from the semicircle
of guards as an officer was ordering them to open the admission chamber
door. The wave stair down to the main concourse had been switched off; so
he climbed the frozen steps of silicon two at a time.

People huddled round the barricaded exits felt his passage as a swift
ripple of cool air, gone almost as it started. On the plaza outside, more
squads of security guards were setting up; two groups were busy mounting
heavy-calibre Bradfield rifles on tripods. Quinn shook his head in a kind
of bemused admiration, then carefully walked round them. The long row of
lifts down to the vac-train station was still working, though there were
few people left on the arrivals complex storey to use them. He hopped in
to one with a group of frightened-looking business executives just back
from a trip to Cavius city on the moon.

The lift took them a kilometre and a half straight down, opening into a
circular chamber three hundred metres across. The stations floor was
divided up by concentric rows of turnstiles, channelling passengers into
the cluster of wave stairs occupying the centre. Information columns of
jet-black glass formed a picket line around the outside, knots of
fluorescent icons twirling around them like electronic fish. Lines of
holographic symbols slithered through the air overhead, weaving sinuously
around each other as they guided passengers to the wave stair which led
down to their platform.

Quinn sauntered idly round the outside of the information columns for a
while, watching the contortions of the holograms overhead. The bustling
crowd (all averting their eyes from each other), the confined walls and
ceiling, wheezing air conditioners pouring out gritty air, small
mechanoids being kicked as they attempted to clean up rubbishhe welcomed
them all back into his life. Even though he was going to destroy this
world and despoil its people, for a brief interlude it remained the old
home. His satisfaction came to a cold halt; the name EDMONTON, in vibrant
red letters, trickled over his head, riding along a curving convey of
translucent blue arrowheads towards one of the wave stairs. The vac-train
was departing in eleven minutes.

It was so tempting. Banneth, at last. To see that face stricken with
fear, then sufferingfor a long long time, the sufferingbefore the final
ignominy of empty-headed imbecility. There were so many stages of torment
to inflict on Banneth, so much he wanted to do to her now he had the
power; intricate, malicious applications of pain, psychological as well
as physical. But the needs of Gods Brother came first, even before the
near-sexual urgings of his own serpent beast. Quinn turned away from the
glowing invitation in disgust, and went to find a vac-train which would
take him direct to New York.

People were starting to congregate around the windows of the bars and
fast-food outlets which made up the perimeter wall of the station. Kids
stared with intrigued expressions at the images coming at them from
newschannel AV projectors, while adults achieved the blank-faced
other-whereness which showed they were receiving sensevises. As he passed
a pasta stall, Quinn caught a brief glimpse of the image inside a
holoscreen above the sweating cook. Jupiters cloudscape formed an
effervescent ginger backdrop to a habitat; dozens of spaceships were
swirling round it in what could almost be read as a state of high
excitement.

It wasnt relevant to him, so he walked on.



Ione had gone straight to De Beauvoir palace after Tranquillity emerged
above Jupiter, coordinating the habitats maintenance crews and making a
public sensevise to reassure people and tell them what to do. The formal
reception room was a more appropriate setting for such a broadcast than
her private apartment. Now with the immediate crisis over, she was
snuggled back in the big chair behind her desk and using Tranquillitys
sensitive cells to observe the last of the voidhawks assigned to
implement the aid response settle on its docking ledge pedestal. A
procession of vehicles trundled over the polyp towards it, cargo flatbed
lorries and heavy-lift trucks eager to unload the large fusion generator
clamped awkwardly in the voidhawks cargo cradles.

The generator had come from one of the industrial stations of the nearest
Edenist habitat, Lycoris; hurriedly ferried over by Consensus as soon as
Tranquillitys status was established. There were currently fifteen
technical crews working on similar generators around the docking ledge,
powering them up and wiring them in to the habitats power grid.

When she sank her mentality deeper into the neural strata and the
autonomic monitor routines which operated there, Ione could feel the
electricity flowing back into the starscrapers through the organic
conductors, their mechanical systems gradually coming back on line. The
habitats girdling city had been in emergency powerdown mode since the
swallow manoeuvre, along with other non-essential functions. Grandfather
Michaels precautions hadnt been perfect after all. She grinned to
herself; pretty damn good, though. And even without the Jovian Consensus
on hand to help with all its resources, they had the smaller fusion
generators in the non-rotating spaceport.

<< We would have been okay. >>

<< Of course we would, >>Tranquillity said. It managed a mildly
chastising tone, surprised at her doubt.

Obviously, nobody had fully thought through the implications of the
swallow manoeuvre for Tranquillity. When it entered the wormhole, the
hundreds of induction cables radiating out from the endcap rims had been
sliced off, eliminating nearly all of the habitats natural energy
generation capability. It would take their extrusion glands several
months to grow new ones out to full length.

By which time they might have to move again.

<< Lets not worry about that right now, >>Tranquillity said. << Were in
the safest orbit in the Confederation; even I was surprised by the amount
of fire-power Consensus has amassed here to protect itself. Be content. >>

<< I wasnt complaining. >>

<< Nor are our inhabitants. >>

Ione felt her attention being focused inside the shell.

It was party time in Tranquillity. The whole population had come up out
of the starscrapers to wait in the parkland around the lobbies until the
electricity was restored. Elderly plutocrats sat on the grass next to
students, waitresses shared the queue to the toilets with corporate
presidents, Laymil project researchers mingled with society vacuumheads.
Everybody had grabbed a bottle on the way out of their apartment, and the
galaxys biggest mass picnic had erupted spontaneously. Dawn was now five
hours late, but the moonlight silver light-tube only enhanced the
ambience. People drank, and ran stim programs, and laughed with their
neighbour as they told and retold their personal tale of
combat-wasp-swarms-I-have-seen-hurtling-towards-me. They thanked God but
principally Ione Saldana for rescuing them, and declared their undying
love for her, that goddamn beautiful, brilliant, canny, gorgeous girl in
whose habitat they were blessed to live. And, hey, Capone; how does it
feel, loser? Your almighty Confederation-challenging fleet screwed by a
single non-military habitat; everything you could throw at us, and we
beat you. Still happy you came back to the wonders of this century?

The residents from the two starscrapers closest to De Beauvoir palace
walked over the vales and round the spinnies to pay their respects and
voice their gratitude. A huge crowd was singing and chanting outside the
gates, calling, pleading for their heroine to appear.

Ione slid the focus over them, smiling when she saw Dominique and Clement
in the throng, as well as a wildly drunk Kempster Getchell. There were
others she knew, too, directors and managers of multistellar companies
and finance institutions, all swept along with the tide of emotion.
Red-faced, exhilarated, and calling her name with hoarse throats. She let
the focus float back to Clement.

<< Invite him in, >>Tranquillity urged warmly.

<< Maybe. >>

<< Survival of dangerous events is a sexual trigger for humans. You
should indulge your instincts. He will make you happy, and you deserve
that more than anything. >>

<< Romantically put. >>

<< Romance has nothing to do with this. Enjoy the release he will bring.
>>

<< What about you? You performed the swallow manoeuvre. >>

<< When you are happy, I am happy. >>

She laughed out loud. Oh what the hell, why not.

<< That is good. But I think you will have to make a public appearance
first. This crowd is good-natured, but quite determined to thank you. >>

<< Yes. >>She sobered. << But there is one last official duty. >>

<< Indeed. >>Tranquillitys tone matched her disposition.

Ione felt the mental conversation widen to incorporate the Jovian
Consensus. Armira, the Kiint ambassador to Jupiter, was formally invited
to converse with them.

<< Our swallow manoeuvre has produced an unexpected event, >>Ione said.
<< We are hopeful that you can clarify it for us. >>

Armira injected a sensation of stately amusement into the affinity band.
<< I would suggest, Ione Saldana and Tranquillity, that your entire
swallow manoeuvre was an unexpected event. >>

<< It certainly surprised the Kiint we were host to, she said. They all
left, very suddenly. >>

<< I see. >>Armiras thoughts hardened, denying them any hint of his
emotional content.

Tranquillity replayed the memory it had from the time of the attack,
showing all the Kiint vanishing inside event horizons.

<< What you have seen demonstrated is an old ability, >>Armira responded
dispassionately. << We developed the emergency exodus facility during the
era when we were engaged in interstellar travel. It is merely a
sophisticated application of your distortion field systems. My colleagues
helping with your Laymil research project would have used it
instinctively when they believed they were threatened. >>

<< Were sure they would, >>Consensus said. << And who can blame them?
Thats not the point. The fact that you have this ability is most
enlightening to us. We have always regarded as somewhat fanciful your
claim that your races interest in star travel is now over. Although the
fact that you had no starships added undeniable weight to the argument.
Now we have seen your personal teleport ability, the original claim is
exposed as a complete fallacy. >>

<< We do not have the same level of interest in travelling to different
worlds that you do, >>Armira said.

<< Of course not. Our starships are principally concerned with commercial
and colonization flights, and an unfortunate amount of military activity.
Your technological level would preclude anything as simple as commercial
activity. We also believe that you are peaceful, although you must have
considerable knowledge of advanced weapons. That leaves colonization and
exploration. >>

<< A correct analysis. >>

<< Are you still conducting these activities? >>

<< To some degree. >>

<< Why did you not tell us this, why have you hidden your true abilities
behind a claim of mysticism and disinterest? >>

<< You know the answer to that, >>Armira said. << Humans discovered the
Jiciro race three hundred years ago; yet you have still not initiated
contact and revealed yourselves to them. Their technology and culture is
at a very primitive level, and you know what will happen if they are
exposed to the Confederation. All that they have will be supplanted by
what they will interpret as futuristic items of convenience, they will
cease to develop anything for themselves. Who knows what achievements
would be lost to the universe? >>

<< That argument does not pertain here, >>Consensus said. << The Jiciro
do not know what the stars are, nor that solid matter is composed of
atoms. We do. We acknowledge that our technology is inferior to yours.
But equally you know that one day we will achieve your current level. You
are denying us knowledge we already know exists, and you have done so
twice, in this field and in your understanding of the beyond. This is not
an act of fellowship; we have opened ourselves to you in honesty and
friendship, we have not hidden our flaws from you; yet you have clearly
not reciprocated. Our conclusion is that you are simply studying us. We
would now like to know why. As sentient entities we have that right. >>

<< Study is a pejorative term. We learn of you, as you do us. Admittedly
that process is imbalanced, but given our respective natures, that is
inevitable. As to bestowing our technology; that would be interference of
the grandest order. If you want something, achieve it for yourselves. >>

<< Same argument you gave us concerning the beyond, >>Ione remarked
testily.

<< Of course, >>Armira said. << Tell me, Ione Saldana, what would your
reaction have been if a xenoc race announced that you had an immortal
soul, and proved it, and then went on to demonstrate that the beyond
awaited, though as Laton said, only for some? Would you have greeted such
a revelation with thanks? >>

<< No, I dont suppose I would. >>

<< We know that our introduction to the concept of the beyond was
accidental, >>Consensus said. << Something happened on Lalonde which
allowed the souls to come back and possess the living. Something
extraneous. This calamity has been inflicted upon us. Surely such
circumstances permit you to intervene? >>

There was a long pause. << We will not intervene in this case, >>Armira
said. << For two reasons. Whatever happened on Lalonde happened because
you went there. There is more to travelling between stars and exploring
the universe than the physical act. >>

<< You are saying we must accept responsibility for our actions. >>

<< Yes, inevitably. >>

<< Very well, with reservations we accept that judgement. Though, please
appreciate, we do not like it. What is the second reason? >>

<< Understand, there is a faction among my people who have argued that we
should intervene in your favour. The possibility was rejected because
what we have learned of you so far indicates that your race will come
through this time successfully. Edenists especially have the social
maturity to face that which follows. >>

<< Im not an Edenist, >>Ione said. << What about me, and all the other
Adamists, the majority of our race? Are you going to stand back as we
perish and fall into the beyond? Does the survival of an elite few, the
sophisticates and the intellectuals, justify discarding the rest? Humans
have never practised eugenics, we regard it as an abomination, and
rightly so. If thats the price of racial improvement, were not willing
to pay it. >>

<< If I am any judge, you too will triumph, Ione Saldana. >>

<< Nice to know. But what about all the others? >>

<< Fate will determine what happens. I can say no more other than to
restate our official response: the answer lies within yourselves. >>

<< That is not much of a comfort, >>Consensus remarked.

<< I understand your frustration. My one piece of advice is that you
should not share what you have learned about my race with the Adamists.
Believing we have a solution, and that piety alone will extract it from
us, would weaken their incentive to find that answer. >>

<< We will consider your suggestion, >>Consensus said. << But Edenism
will not voluntarily face the rest of eternity without our cousins.
Ultimately, we are one race, however diverse. >>

<< I acknowledge your integrity. >>

<< I have a final question, >>Ione said. << Where is Jay Hilton? She was
taken from Tranquillity at the same time as your researchers. Why? >>

Armiras thoughts softened, shading as close to embarrassment as Ione had
ever known a Kiint to come. << That was an error, >>the ambassador said.
<< And I apologise unreservedly for it. However, you should know the
error was made in good faith. A young Kiint included Jay Hilton in the
emergency exodus against parental guidance. She was simply trying to save
her friend. >>

<< Haile! >>Ione laughed delightedly. << You wicked girl. >>

<< I believe she has been severely reprimanded for the incident. >>

<< I hope not, >>Ione said indignantly. << Shes only a baby. >>

<< Quite. >>

<< Well, you can bring Jay back now; Tranquillity isnt as vulnerable as
you thought. >>

<< I apologise again, but Jay Hilton cannot be returned to you at this
time. >>

<< Why not? >>

<< In effect, she has seen too much. I assure you that she is perfectly
safe, and we will of course return her to you immediately once your
current situation is resolved. >>



The walls of the prison cell were made from some kind of dull-grey
composite, not quite cool enough to be metal, but just as hard. Louise
had touched them once before sinking down onto the single cot and hugging
her legs, knees tucked up under her chin. The gravity was about half that
of Norfolk, better than Phobos, at least; though the air was cooler than
it had been on the Jamrana. She spent some time wondering about Endron,
the old systems specialist from the Far Realm, thinking he might have
betrayed them and alerted High Yorks authorities, then decided it really
didnt matter. Her one worry now was that shed been separated from Gen;
her sister would be very frightened by what was happening.

And I got her into this mess. Mother will kill me.

Except Mother was in no position to do anything. Louise hugged herself
tighter, fighting the way her lips kept trembling.

The door slid open, and two female police officers stepped in. Louise
assumed they were police, they wore pale blue uniforms with Govcentrals
bronze emblem on their shoulders, depicting a world where continents
shaped as hands gripped together.

Okay, Kavanagh, said the one with sergeant stripes. Lets go.

Louise straightened her legs, looking cautiously from one to the other.
Where?

Interview.

Id just shove you out the bloody airlock, its up to me, said the
other. Trying to sneak one of those bastards in here. Bitch.

Leave it, the sergeant ordered.

I wasnt . . . Louise started. She pursed her lips helplessly. It was
so complicated, and heaven only knew how many laws shed broken on the
way to High York.

They marched her down a short corridor and into another room. It made her
think of hospitals. White walls, everything clean, a table in the middle
that was more like a laboratory bench, cheap waiting room chairs, various
processor blocks in a tall rack in one corner, more lying on the table.
Brent Roi was sitting behind the table; hed taken off the customs
uniform hed worn to greet the Jamrana, now he was in the same blue suit
as the officers escorting her. He waved her into the chair facing him.

Louise sat, hunching her shoulders exactly the way she was always
scolding Gen for doing. She waited for a minute with downcast eyes, then
glanced up. Brent Roi was giving her a level stare.

Youre not a possessed, he said. The tests prove that.

Louise pulled nervously at the black one-piece overall shed been given,
the memory of those tests vivid in her mind. Seven armed guards had been
pointing their machine guns at her as the technicians ordered her to
strip. Theyd put her inside sensor loops, pressed hand-held scanners
against her, taken samples. It was a million times worse than any medical
examination. Afterwards, the only thing shed been allowed to keep was
the medical nanonic package round her wrist.

Thats good, she said in a tiny voice.

So how did he blackmail you?

Who?

The possessed guy calling himself Fletcher Christian.

Um. He didnt blackmail me, he was looking after us.

So you rolled over and let him fuck you in return for protection against
the other possessed?

No.

Brent Roi shrugged. He preferred your little sister?

No! Fletcher is a decent man. You shouldnt say such things.

Then what the hell are you doing here, Louise? Why did you try and
infiltrate a possessed into the ONeill Halo?

I wasnt. Its not like that. We came here to warn you.

Warn who?

Earth. Govcentral. Theres somebody coming here. Somebody terrible.

Yeah? Brent Roi raised a sceptical eyebrow. Whos that then?

Hes called Quinn Dexter. Ive met him, hes worse than any normal
possessed. Much worse.

In what way?

More powerful. And hes full of hate. Fletcher says theres something
wrong about him, hes different somehow.

Ah, the expert on possession. Well, if anyone is going to know, itll be
him.

Louise frowned, unsure why the official was being so difficult. We came
here to warn you, she insisted. Dexter said he was coming to Earth. He
wants revenge on someone called Banneth. You have to guard all the
spaceports, and make sure he doesnt get down to the surface. It would be
a disaster. Hell start the possession down there.

And why do you care?

I told you. Ive met him. I know what hes like.

Worse than ordinary possessed; yet you seemed to have survived. How did
you manage that, Louise?

We were helped.

By Fletcher?

No . . . I dont know who it was.

All right, so you escaped this fate worse than death, and you came here
to warn us.

Yes.

How did you get off Norfolk, Louise?

I bought tickets on a starship.

I see. And you took Fletcher Christian with you. Were you worried there
were possessed among the starship crew?

No. That was one place I was sure there wouldnt be any possessed.

So although you knew there were no possessed on board, you still took
Christian with you as protection. Was that your idea, or his?

I . . . It . . . He was with us. Hed been with us since we left home.

Where is home, Louise?

Cricklade manor. But Dexter came and possessed everyone. Thats when we
fled to Norwich.

Ah yes, Norfolks capital. So you brought Christian with you to Norwich.
Then when that started to fall to the possessed, you thought youd better
get offplanet, right?

Yes.

Did you know Christian was a possessed when you bought the tickets?

Yes, of course.

And when you bought them, did you also know Dexter wanted to come to
Earth?

No, that was after.

So was it dear old samaritan Fletcher Christian who suggested coming
here to warn us?

Yes.

And you agreed to help him?

Yes.

So where were you going to go originally, before Fletcher Christian made
you change your mind and come here?

Tranquillity.

Brent Roi nodded in apparent fascination. Thats a rather strange place
for a young lady from Norfolks landowner class to go. What made you
choose that habitat?

My fianc lives there. If anyone can protect us, he can.

And who is your fianc, Louise?

She smiled sheepishly. Joshua Calvert.

Joshua Cal . . . You mean Lagrange Calvert?

No, Joshua.

The captain of the Lady Macbeth?

Yes. Do you know him?

Lets say, the name rings a bell. He sat back and folded his arms,
regarding Louise with a strangely mystified expression.

Can I see Genevieve now? she asked timidly. No one had actually said
she was under arrest yet. She felt a lot more confident now the policeman
had actually listened to her story.

In a little while, possibly. We just have to review the information
youve provided us with.

You do believe me about Quinn Dexter, dont you? You must make sure he
doesnt get down to Earth.

Oh, I assure you, we will do everything we can to make sure he doesnt
get through our security procedures.

Thank you. She glanced awkwardly at the two female officers standing on
either side of her chair. Whats going to happen to Fletcher?

I dont know, Louise, thats not my department. But I imagine theyll
attempt to flush him out of the body hes stolen.

Oh. She stared at the floor.

Do you think theyre wrong to try that, Louise?

No. I suppose not. The words were troubling to speak; the truth, but
not what was right. None of what had happened was right.

Good. Brent Roi signalled her escort. Well talk again in a little
while. When the door closed behind her, he couldnt help a grimace of
pure disbelief.

What do you think? his supervisor datavised.

I have never heard someone sprout quite so much bullshit in a single
interview before, Brent Roi replied. Either shes a retard, or were up
against a new type of possessed infiltration.

Shes not a retard.

Then what the hell is she? Nobody is that dumb, its not possible.

I dont believe shes dumb, either. Our problem is, were so used to
dealing with horrendous complexities of subterfuge, we never recognise
the simple truth when we see it.

Oh come on, you dont actually believe that story?

She is, as you said, from the Norfolk landowner class; that doesnt
exactly prepare her for the role of galactic master criminal. And she is
travelling with her sister.

Thats just cover.

Brent, you are depressingly cynical.

Yes, sir. He held on to his exasperation, it never made the slightest
impression on his supervisor. The anonymous entity who had guided the
last twenty years of his life lacked many ordinary human responses. There
were times when Brent Roi wondered if he was actually dealing with a
xenoc. Not that there was much he could do about that now; whatever
branch of whatever agency the supervisor belonged to, it was undoubtedly
a considerable power within Govcentral. His own smooth, accelerated
promotion through the Halo police force was proof of that.

There are factors of Miss Kavanaghs story which my colleagues and I
find uniquely interesting.

Which factors? Brent asked.

You know better than that.

All right. What do you want me to do with her?

Endron has confirmed the Phobos events to the Martian police, however we
must establish exactly what happened to Kavanagh on Norfolk. Initiate a
direct memory retrieval procedure.



Over the last five hundred years, the whole concept of Downtown had
acquired a new-ish and distinctly literal meaning in New York; naturally
enough, so did Uptown. One thing, though, would never change; the
arcology still jealously guarded its right to boast the tallest
individual building on the planet. While the odd couple of decades per
century might see the title stolen away by upstart rivals in Europe or
Asia, the trophy always came home eventually.

The arcology now sprawled across more than four thousand square
kilometres, housing (officially) three hundred million people. With New
Manhattan at the epicentre, fifteen crystalline domes, twenty kilometres
in diameter, were clumped together in a semicircle along the eastern
seaboard, sheltering entire districts of ordinary skyscrapers (defined as
buildings under one kilometre high) from the pummelling heat and winds.
Where the domes intersected, gigantic conical megatowers soared up into
the contused sky. More than anything, these colossi conformed to the old
concept of arcology as a single city-in-a-building. They had
apartments, shopping malls, factories, offices, design bureaus, stadiums,
universities, parks, police stations, council chambers, hospitals,
restaurants, bars, and spaces for every other human activity of the
Twenty-seventh Century. Thousands of their inhabitants were born, lived,
and died inside them without ever once leaving.

At five and a half kilometres tall, the Reagan was the current global
champion, its kilometre-wide base resting on the bedrock where the town
of Ridgewood had stood in the times before the armada storms. An
apartment on any of its upper fifty floors cost fifteen million
fuseodollars apiece, and the last one was sold twelve years before they
were built. Their occupants, the new breed of Uptowners, enjoyed a view
as spectacular as it was possible to have on Earth. Although impenetrably
dense cloud swathed the arcology for a minimum of two days out of every
seven; when it was clear the hot air was very clear indeed. Far below
them, under the transparent hexagonal sheets which comprised the roof of
the domes, the tide of life ebbed and flowed for their amusement. By day,
an exotic hustle as kaleidoscope rivers of vehicles flowed along the
elevated 3D web of roads and rails; by night, a shimmering tapestry of
neon pixels.

Surrounding the Reagan, streets and skyscrapers fanned out in a radial of
deep carbon-concrete canyons, like buttress roots climbing up to support
the main tower. The lower levels of these canyons were badly cluttered,
where the skyscraper bases were twice as broad as their peaks, and the
elevated roads formed a complex intersecting grid for the first hundred
and fifty metres above the ground. High expressways throwing off curving
slip roads at each junction down to the local traffic lanes; broad
freight-only flyovers shaking from the eighty-tonne autotrucks grumbling
along them twenty-four hours a day, winding like snakes into tunnels
which led to sub-basement loading yards; metro transit carriages gliding
along a mesh of rails so labyrinthine that only an AI could run the
network. Rents were cheap near the ground, where there was little light
but plenty of noise, and the heavy air gusting between dirty vertical
walls had been breathed a hundred times before. Entropy in the arcology
meant a downward drift. Everything that was worn-out, obsolete, demode,
economically redundantdown it came to settle on the ground, where it
could descend no further. People as well as objects.

Limpet-like structures proliferated among the crisscross of road support
girders bridging the gap between the skyscrapers, shanty igloos woven
from salvaged plastic and carbotanium composite, multiplying over the
decades until they clotted into their own light-killing roof. Under them,
leeched to the streets themselves, were the market stalls and fast-food
counters; a souk economy of fifth-hand cast-offs and date-expired sachets
shuffled from family to family in an eternal round robin. Crime here was
petty and incestuous, gangs ruled their turf, pushers ruled the gangs.
Police made token patrols in the day, and went off-shift as the unseen
sun sank below the rim of the domes above.

This was Downtown. It was everywhere, but always beneath the feet of
ordinary citizens, invisible. Quinn adored it. The people who dwelt here
were almost in the ghost realm already; nothing they did ever affected
the real world.

He walked up out of the subway onto a gloomy street jammed with canopied
stalls and wheel-less vans, all with their skirt of goods guarded by
vigilant owners. Graffiti struggled with patches of pale mould for space
on the skyscraper walls. There were few windows, and those were merely
armoured slits revealing little of the mangy shops and bars inside.
Metallic thunder from the roads above was as permanent as the air which
carried it.

Several looks were quickly thrown Quinns way before eyes were averted
for fear of association. He smiled to himself as he strode confidently
among the stalls. As if his attitude wasnt enough to mark him out as an
interloper, he had clothed himself in his jet-black priest robe again.

It was the simplest way. He wanted to find the sect, but hed never been
to New York before. Everybody in Downtown knew about the sect, this was
their prime recruiting ground. There would be a coven close by, there
always was. He just needed someone who knew the location.

Sure enough, he hadnt got seventy metres from the subway when they saw
him. A pair of waster kids busy laughing as they pissed on the woman
theyd just beaten unconscious. Her two-year-old kid lay on the sidewalk
bawling as blood and urine pooled round its feet. The victims bag had
been ripped apart, scattering its pitiful contents on the ground around
her. They put Quinn in mind of Jackson Gael; late-adolescence, with
pumped bodies, their muscle shape defined by some exercise but mostly
tailored-hormones. One of them wore a T-shirt with the slogan: CHEMICAL
WARFARE MACHINE. The other was more body-proud, favouring a naked torso.

He was the one who saw Quinn first, grunted in amazement, and nudged his
partner. They sealed their flies and sauntered over.

Quinn slowly pushed his hood down. Hyper-sensitive to trouble, the street
was de-populating rapidly. Pedestrians, already nervous from the mugging,
slipped away behind the forest of support pillars. Market stall shutters
were slammed down.

The two waster kids stopped in front of Quinn, who grinned in welcome. I
havent had sex for ages, Quinn said. He looked straight at the one
wearing the T-shirt. So I think Ill fuck you first tonight.

The waster kid snarled, and threw a punch with all the strength his
inflated muscles could manage. Quinn remained perfectly still. The fist
struck his jaw, just to the left of his chin. There was a crunch which
could easily be heard above the traffics clamour. The waster kid
bellowed, first in shock, then in agony. His whole body shook as he
slowly pulled his hand back. Every knuckle was broken, as if he had
punched solid stone. He cradled it with frightened tenderness, whimpering.

Id like to say take me to your leader, Quinn said, as if he hadnt
even noticed the punch. But organising yourselves takes brains. So I
guess Im out of luck.

The second waster kid had paled, shaking his head and taking a couple of
steps backward.

Dont run, Quinn said, his voice sharp.

The waster kid paused for a second, then turned and bolted. His jeans
burst into flames. He screamed, stumbling to a halt, and flailing wildly
at the burning fabric. His hands ignited. The shock silenced him for a
second as he held them up disbelievingly in front of his face. Then he
screamed again, and kept on screaming, staggering about drunkenly. He
crashed into one of the flimsy stalls which crumpled, folding about him.
The fire was burning deeper into his flesh now, spreading along his arms,
and up onto his torso. His screaming became weaker as he bucked about in
the smouldering wreckage.

The T-shirted kid raced over to him. But all he could do was look down in
a horror of indecision as the flames grew hotter.

For Christs sake, he wailed at Quinn. Stop it. Stop it!

Quinn laughed. Your first lesson is that Gods Brother cannot be
stopped.

The body was motionless and silent now, a black glistening husk at the
centre of the flames. Quinn put a hand on the shoulder of the sobbing
waster kid at his side. It hurts you, doesnt it? Watching this?

Hurts! Hurts? You bastard. Even with a face screwed up from pain and
rage, he didnt dare try to twist free from Quinns hand.

I have a question, Quinn said. And Ive chosen you to answer it for
me. His hand moved down, caressing the waster kids chest before it
reached his crotch. He tightened his fingers round the kids balls,
aroused by the fear he was inflicting.

Yes, God, yes. Anything, the kid snivelled. His eyes were closed,
denying what he could of this nightmare.

Where is the nearest coven of the Light Bringer sect?

Even with the pain and dread scrambling his thoughts, the waster kid
managed to stammer: This dome, district seventeen, eighty-thirty street.
They got a centre somewhere along there.

Good. You see, youve learnt obedience, already. Thats very smart of
you. Im almost impressed. Now theres only one lesson left.

The waster kid quailed. What?

To love me.



The covens headquarters had chewed its way, maggot-fashion, into the
corner of the Hauck skyscraper on eighty-thirty street. What had once
been a simple lattice of cube rooms, arranged by mathematics rather than
art, was now a jumbled warren of darkened chambers. Acolytes had knocked
holes in some walls, nailed up barricades in the corridors, pulled down
ceilings, sealed off stairwells; drones shaping their nest to the design
of the magus. From the outside it looked the same, a row of typically
shabby Downtown shops along the street, selling goods cheaper than
anywhere elsethey could afford to, everything was stolen by the
acolytes. But above the shops, the slim windows were blacked out, and
according to the building management processors, the rooms unoccupied,
and therefore not liable to pay rent.

Inside, the coven members buzzed about industriously twenty-four hours a
day. Looked at from a strictly corporate viewpoint, which was how magus
Garth always regarded his coven, it was quite a prosperous operation.
Ordinary acolytes, the real sewer-bottom shit of the human race, were
sent out boosting from the upper levels; bringing back a constant supply
of consumer goodies that were either used by the sect or sold off in the
coven-front shops and affiliated street market stalls. Sergeant acolytes
were deployed primarily as enforcers to keep the others in line, but also
to run a more sophisticated distribution net among the domes
lower-middle classes; competing (violently) with ordinary pushers out in
the bars and clubs. Senior acolytes, the ones who actually had a working
brain cell, were given didactic memory courses and employed running the
pirate factory equipment, bootlegging MF albums, black sensevise
programs, and AV activant software; as well as synthesizing an impressive
pharmacopoeia of drugs, hormones, and proscribed viral vectors.

In addition to these varied retail enterprises, the coven still engaged
in the more traditional activities of crime syndicates. Although
sensevise technology had essentially eliminated a lot of prostitution
outside of Downtown, that still left protection rackets, extortion, clean
water theft, blackmail, kidnapping, data theft, game-rigging,
civic-service fraud, power theft, embezzlement, and vehicle theft, among
others.

The coven performed all of them with gusto, if not finesse. Magus Garth
was satisfied with their work. They hadnt missed their monthly target in
over three years, making the required financial offering to New Yorks
high magus over in dome two. His only worry was that the High Magus could
realize how lucrative the coven was, and demand a higher offering.
Increased payments would cut into Garths personal profits, the eight per
cent hed been skimming every month for the last five years.

There were times when Garth wondered why nobody had noticed. But then,
looking at sergeant acolyte Wener, maybe he shouldnt be all that
surprised. Wener was in his thirties, a big man, but rounded rather than
wedge-shaped like most of the acolytes. He had a thick beard, dark hair
sprouting from his face in almost simian proportions. His head was in
keeping with the rest of his body, though Garth suspected the bone
thickness would be a lot greater than average. An overhanging forehead
and jutting chin gave him a permanently sullen, resentful
expressionappropriately enough. You couldnt geneer that quality, it was
a demonstration that the incest taboo was finally starting to lose force
among Downtown residents. Fifteen years in the sect, and Wener was as far
up the hierarchy as hed ever get.

They got Tod, and Jay-Dee, Wener said. He smiled at the memory. Tod
went down swinging. Hit a couple of cops before they shot him with a
fucking nervejam. They started kicking him then. I got out.

How come they spotted you? Garth asked. Hed sent Wener and five others
out to steam a mall. Simple enough, two of you bang into a civilian, cut
a bag strap, slice trouser pocket fabric. Any protest: you get crushed by
a circle of aggressive faces and tough young bodies looking for an excuse
to hurt you as bad as they can.

Wener shifted some flesh around on top of his shoulders, his way of
shrugging. Dunno. Cops maybe saw what was going down.

Ah, fuck it. Garth knew. Theyd hit a streak and stayed too long,
allowed the mall patrols to realize what was happening. Did Tod and
Jay-Dee have anything on them?

Credit disks.

Shit. That was it. The cops would send them straight down to the
Justice Hall, walk them past a judge whose assistants assistant would
access the case file and slap them with an Involuntary Transportation
sentence. Two more loyal followers lost to some asshole colony. Though
Garth had heard that the quarantine was even affecting colony starship
flights. Ivet holding pens at every orbital tower station were getting
heavily overcrowded, the news companies were hot with rumours of riots.

Wener was shoving his hands in his pockets, pulling out credit disks and
other civilian crap: fleks, jewellery, palm-sized blocks . . . I got
this. The steam wasnt a total zero. He spilt the haul on Garths desk,
and gave the magus a hopeful look.

Okay, Wener. But youve got to be more careful in the future. Fuck it,
Gods Brother doesnt like failure.

Yes, magus.

All right, get the hell out of my sight before I give you to Hot Spot
for a night.

Wener lumbered out of the sanctum, and closed the door. Garth datavised
the rooms management processor to turn up the lights. Candles and
shadowy gloom were the sects habitual trappings. When acolytes were
summoned before him, the study conformed to that: a sombre cave lit by a
few spluttering red candles in iron candelabrums, its walls invisible.

Powerful beams shone down out of the ceiling, revealing a richly
furnished den; drinks cabinet filled with a good selection of bottles, an
extensive AV and sensevise flek library, new-marque Kulu Corporation
desktop processor (genuinenot a bootleg), some of the weirder art stuff
that was impossible to fence. A homage to his own greed, and devoutness.
If you see something you want: take it.

Kerry! he yelled.

She came in from his private apartment, butt naked. He hadnt allowed her
to wear clothes since the day her brother brought her in. Best-looking
girl the coven had acquired in ages. A few tweaks with cosmetic
adaptation packages, pandering to his personal tastes, and she was visual
perfection.

Get my fifth invocation robes, he told her. Hurry up. Ive got the
initiation in ten minutes.

She bobbed her head apprehensively, and retreated back into the
apartment. Garth started picking up the junk Wener had left, reading the
flek labels, datavising the blocks for a menu. A gentle gust of cool air
wafted across his face. The candles flickered. It broke his concentration
for a moment. Air conditioner screwed up again.

There was nothing of any interest among Weners haul, no blackmail
levers; some of the fleks were company files, but a quick check found no
commercially sensitive items. He was indifferent about that. Data was the
other offering the coven made to the High Magus, and that on a weekly
basis. A gift that never brought any return, other than the invisible
umbrella of political protection the sect extended to its senior members.
So Garth played along, considering it his insurance premium. The reports
were more than a simple summary of what was happening inside the coven;
the High Magus insisted on knowing what action was going down on the
street, every street.

Years of being out on the street at the hard edge had taught Garth the
value of good intelligence, but this was like a fetish with the High
Magus.

Kerry returned with his robes. The fifth invocation set were
appropriately flamboyant, black and purple, embroidered with scarlet
pentagrams and nonsense runes. But they were a symbol of authority, and
the sect was very strict about internal discipline. Kerry helped him into
them, then hung a gold chain with an inverted cross round his neck. When
he looked into a mirror he was satisfied with what he saw. The body might
be sagging slightly these days, but he used weapon implants rather than
straight physical violence to assert himself now; while the shaven skull
and eyes recessed by cosmetic adaptation packages gave him a suitably
ominous appearance.

The temple was at the centre of the headquarters, a cavity three stories
high. Straight rows of severed steel reinforcement struts poking out of
the walls showed where the floors and ceilings used to be. A broad
pentagon containing an inverted cross was painted across the rear wall.
It was illuminated from below by a triple row of skull candles, great
gobs of wax in upturned craniums. Stars, demons, and runes formed a
constellation around it, although they were fading under layers of soot.
The altar was a long carbon-concrete slab, ripped from the sidewalk
outside, and mounted on jagged pillars of carbotanium. Impressively
solid, if nothing else. There was a black brazier on top of it, lithe
blue flames slithering out of the trash bricks it was filled with,
sending up a plume of sweet-stinking smoke. A pair of tall serpent-shaped
candle sticks flanked it. Ten iron hoops, sunk into the carbon concrete,
trailed lengths of chain which ended in manacles.

Just over half of the covens acolytes were waiting obediently when Garth
arrived. Standing in rows, wearing their grey robes, with coloured belts
denoting seniority. Garth would have preferred more. But they were
stretched pretty thin right now. A turf dispute with a gang operating out
of ninety-ten street had resulted in several clashes. The gang lord was
doubtless thinking it would all be settled with a boundary agreement.
Garth was going to cure him of that illusion. Gods Brother did not
negotiate. Acolytes had the gang under observation, building up a picture
of their entire operation. It wasnt something the gang understood or
could ever emulate, they didnt have the discipline or the drive. Their
only motivation was to claw in enough money to pay for their own stim
fixes.

That was what made the sect different; serving Gods Brother so rewarding.

In another week Garth would unlock the weapons stash and launch a raid.
The High Magus had already arranged for him to take delivery of
sequestration nanonics; that would be the fate of the gangs leadership,
turned into biological mechanoids. Any attractive youths would be used as
bluesense meat after the acolytes had enjoyed their victory orgy. And,
inevitably, there would be a sacrifice.

The acolytes bowed to Garth, who went to stand in front of the altar.
Five initiates were shackled to it. Three boys and two girls, lured in by
the promises and the treachery of friends. One of the boys stood
defiantly straight, determined to show he could take whatever the
initiation threw at him so he could claim his place, the other two were
just surly and subdued. Garth had ordered one of the girls to be tranked
after hed spoken to her earlier. Shed virtually been abducted by an
acolyte angry at losing her to an outside rival, and was likely to go
into a mental melt-down if she wasnt eased in to her new life; she had
strong ambitions to better herself and rise out of Downtown.

Garth held up his arms, and made the sign of the inverted cross. With
flesh we bond in the night, he intoned.

The acolytes started a low, mournful chanting, swaying softly in unison.

Pain we love, Garth told them. Pain frees the serpent beast. Pain
shows us what we are. Your servants, Lord.

He was almost in a trance state as he spoke the words, hed said them so
many times before. So many initiations. The coven had a high turnover,
arrests, stim burnouts, fights. But never drop outs.

Indoctrination and discipline helped, but his main weapon of control was
belief. Belief in your own vileness, and knowing there was no shame in
it. Wanting things to get worse, to destroy and hurt and ruin. The easy
way forward . . . once you give in to your true self, your serpent beast.
All that started right here, with the ceremony.

It was a deliberate release of sex and violence, an empowerment of the
most base instincts, permitting little resistance. So easy to join, so
natural to immerse yourself in the frenzy around you. Indulge the need to
belong, to be the same as your brethren family. An act which gave the
existing acolytes that fraternity.

As to the initiates, they passed through the eye of the needle. Fear kept
them in place at first, fear of knowing how exquisitely ugly the sect
really was, how they would be dealt with if they disobeyed or attempted
to leave. Then the cycle would turn, and there would be another
initiation. Only this time it would be them showing their devotion to
Gods Brother, revelling in the unchaining of their serpent beast. Doing
as they had been done by, and enraptured by the accomplishment.

Whoever had designed the ritual, Garth thought, had really understood
basic conditioning psychology. Such elemental barbarism was the only
possible way to exert any kind of control over a Downtown savage. And
there was no other sort of resident here.

In darkness we see You, Lord, Garth recited. In darkness we live. In
darkness we wait for the true Night that You will bring us. Into that
Night we will follow You. He lowered his arms.

We will follow You, the acolytes echoed. Their rustling voices had
become hot with expectation.

When You light the true path of salvation at the end of the world, we
will follow You.

We will follow You.

When Your legions fall upon the angels of the false lord, we will follow
You.

We will follow You.

When the time . . .

That time is now, a single clear voice announced.

The acolytes grunted in surprise, while Garth spluttered to a halt, more
astonished than outraged at the interruption. They all knew how important
he considered the sects ceremonies, how intolerant of sacrilege. Only
true believers can inspire belief in others.

Who said that? he demanded.

A figure walked forward from the back of the temple, clad in a
midnight-black robe. The opening at the front of the hood seemed to
absorb all light, there was no hint of the head it contained. I am your
new messiah, and I have come among you to bring our Lords Night to this
planet.

Garth tried to use his retinal implants to see into the hood, but they
couldnt detect any light in there, even infrared was useless. Then his
neural nanonics reported innumerable program crashes. He yelled: Shit!
and thrust his left hand out at the robed figure, index finger extended.
The fire command to his microdart launcher never arrived.

Join with me, Quinn ordered. Or I will find more worthy owners for
your bodies.

One of the acolytes launched herself at Quinn, booted foot swinging for
his kneecap. Two others were right behind her, fists drawn back.

Quinn raised an arm, his sleeve falling to reveal an albino hand with
grizzled claw fingers. Three thin streamers of white fire lashed out from
the talons, searingly bright in the gloomy, smoke-heavy air. They struck
his attackers, who were flung backwards as if theyd been hit by a
shotgun blast.

Garth grabbed one of the serpent candlesticks, and swung it wildly,
aiming to smash it down on Quinns head. Not even a possessed would be
able to survive a mashed brain, the invading soul would be forced out.
Air thickened around the candlestick, slowing its momentum until it
halted ten centimetres above the apex of Quinns hood. The serpents
head, which held the candle, hissed and closed its mouth, biting the rod
of wax in half.

Swamp him! Garth shouted. He cant defeat all of us. Sacrifice
yourself, for Gods Brother.

A few of the acolytes edged closer to Quinn, but most stayed where they
were. The candlestick began to glow along its entire length. Pain stabbed
into Garths hands. He could hear his skin sizzling. Squirts of greasy
smoke puffed out. But he couldnt let go; his fingers wouldnt move. He
saw them blister and blacken; bubbling juices ran down his wrists.

Kill him, he cried. Kill. Kill. His burning hands made him scream out
in agony.

Quinn leant towards him. Why? he asked. This is the time of Gods
Brother. He sent me here to lead you. Obey me.

Garth fell to his knees, arms shaking, charred hands still clenched round
the gleaming candlestick. Youre a possessed.

I was a possessed. I returned. My belief in Him freed me.

Youll possess all of us, the magus hissed.

Some of you. But that is what the sect prays for. An army of the damned;
loyal followers of our darkest Lord. He turned to the acolytes and held
up his hands. For the first time his face was visible within, pale and
deadly intent. The waiting is over. I have come, and I bring you victory
for eternity. No more pathetic squabbling over black stimulants, no more
wasting your life mugging geriatric farts. His true work waits to be
done. I know how to bring Night to this planet. Kneel before me, become
true warriors of darkness, and together we will rain stone upon this land
until it bleeds and dies.

Garth screamed again. All that was left now of his fingers were black
bones soldered to the candlestick. Kill him, shitbrains! he roared.
Smash the fucker into bedrock, curse you. But through eyes blurred with
tears he could see the acolytes slowly sinking to the floor in front of
Quinn. It was like a wave effect, spreading across the temple. Wener was
the closest to Quinn, his simple face alive with admiration and
excitement. Im with you, the lumbering acolyte yelled. Let me kill
people for you. I want to kill everyone, kill the whole world. I hate
them. I hate them real bad.

Garth groaned in mortification. They believed him! Believed the shit was
a real messenger from Gods Brother.

Quinn closed his eyes and smiled in joy as he gloried in their adulation.
Finally, he was back among his own. We will show the Light Bringer we
are the worthy ones, he promised them. I will guide you over an ocean
of blood to His Empire. And from there we will hear the false lord
weeping at the end of the universe.

The acolytes cheered and laughed rapturously. This was what they craved;
no more of the maguss tactical restraint, at last they could unleash
violence and horror without end, begin the war against the light, their
promised destiny.

Quinn turned and glanced down at magus Garth. You: fuckbrain. Grovel,
lick the shit off my feet, and Ill allow you to join the crusade as a
whore for the soldiers.

The candlestick clattered to the ground, with the roast remains of
Garths hands still attached. He bared his teeth at the deranged
possessor standing over him. I serve my Lord alone. You can go to hell.

Been there, Quinn said urbanely. Done that. Come back. His hand
descended on Garths head as if in anointment. But you will be of use to
me. Your body, anyway. His needle-sharp talons pierced the skin.

The magus discovered that the pain of losing his hands was merely the
overture to a very long and quite excruciating symphony.


Chapter 02
==========


It was designated Bureau Seven, which somewhat inevitably for a
government organization was acronymed down to B7. To anyone with
Govcentral alpha-rated clearance, it was listed as one of the hundreds of
bland committees which made up the management hierarchy of the Govcentral
Internal Security Directorate. Officially its function was Policy
Integration and Resource Allocation, a vital coordination role. The more
senior GISD Bureaus produced their requirements for information and
actions, and it was B7s job to make sure none of the new objectives
clashed with current operations before they designated local arcology
offices with carrying out the project and assigned funds. If there was
any anomaly to be found with B7, it was that such an important and
sensitive responsibility did not have a political appointee assigned to
run it. Certainly the chiefs of Bureaus 1 through 6 changed with every
new administration, reflecting fresh political priorities; and several
hundred minor posts among the lower Bureaus were also up for grabs as a
loyalty reward to the new Presidents retinue. Again, no junior positions
were available in B7.

So B7 carried on as it always had, isolated and insular. In fact, just
how insular would have come as a great shock to any outsider who
investigated the nature of its membersthat is, a shock in the brief
period left to them before being quietly terminated.

Although the antithesis of democracy themselves, they did take the job of
guarding the republic of Earth extremely seriously. Possession was the
one threat which actually had the potential not just to overthrow but
actually eliminate Govcentral, a prospect which hadnt arisen for nearly
four hundred and fifty years, since the population pressures of the Great
Dispersal.

Possession, therefore, was the reason why a full meeting of all sixteen
members had been convened for the first time in twelve years. Their
sensenviron conference had a standard format, a white infinity-walled
room with an oval table in the centre seating their generated
representations. There was no seniority among them, each had his or her
separate area of responsibility, the majority of which were designated
purely on geographical terms, although there were supervisors for GISDs
divisions dealing in military intelligence.

An omnidirectional projection hung over the table, showing a warehouse on
Norfolk which was burning with unnatural ferocity. Several museum-piece
fire engines were racing towards it, along with men in khaki uniforms.

It would appear the Kavanagh girl is telling the truth, said the
Central American supervisor.

I never doubted it, Western Europe replied.

Shes certainly not possessed, said Military Intelligence. Not now,
anyway. But shed still have those memories if she had been.

If shed been possessed, she would have admitted it, Western Europe
said indolently. Youre building in complications for us.

Do you want a full personality debrief to confirm her authenticity?
Southern Africa asked.

I dont think we should, Western Europe said. He absorbed the mildly
polite expressions of surprise the representations around the table were
directing at him.

Care to share with us? Southern Pacific asked archly.

Western Europe looked at the Military Intelligence supervisor. I believe
we have crossover from the Mounts Delta?

Military Intelligence gave a perfunctory nod. Yes. We confirmed that the
starship was carrying two people when it docked at Supra-Brazil. One of
them slaughtered the other in an extravagantly gory fashion right after
docking was completed, the body was literally exploded. All that we can
tell you about the victim is that he was male. We still dont know who he
was, theres certainly no correlating DNA profile stored in our memory
cores. Ive requested that all governments were in contact with run a
search through their records, but I dont hold out much hope.

Why not? Southern Pacific asked.

The Mounts Delta came from Nyvan; he was probably one of their
citizens. None of their nations remain intact.

Not relevant, anyway, said Western Europe.

Agreed, Military Intelligence said. Once wed stripped down the
Mounts Delta, we ran extremely thorough forensic tests on the life
support capsule and its environmental systems. Analysis on the faecal
residue left in the waste cycle mechanism identified the other occupants
DNA for us. And this is where the story gets interesting, because we have
a very positive match on his DNA. Military Intelligence datavised the
sensevises controlling processor, and the image above the table changed.
Now it showed an image taken from Louise Kavanaghs brain a few minutes
before the warehouse was fired; a young man with a pale, stern face,
dressed in a jet-black robe. The viewing angle was such that he looked
down on the members of B7 with a derisory sneer. Quinn Dexter. He was an
Ivet shipped to Lalonde last year, sentenced for resisting arrest, the
police thought he was running an illegal package into Edmonton. He was as
it happens. Sequestration nanonics.

Oh Christ, Central America muttered.

The Kavanagh girl confirms he was on Norfolk, and both she and Fletcher
Christian strongly suspect he was the one who took over the frigate
Tantu. Following that, the Tantu made one unsuccessful attempt to
penetrate Earth defences, and immediately withdrew, damaging itself in
the process.

Western Europe datavised the sensenviron management processor, and the
image above the table changed again. Dexter got to Nyvan. One of the
surviving asteroids confirmed that the Tantu docked at Jesup asteroid.
Thats when their real troubles started. Ships from Jesup planted the
nukes in the abandoned asteroids. He pointed at the image of Nyvan which
had replaced Dexter. It was a world like nothing previously seen in the
galaxy, as if a ball of lava had congealed in space, a crinkled black
surface crust riddled with contorted fissures of radiant red light. The
two atmospheric aspects were in constant conflict, supernatural and
supernature boiling against each other with harrowing aggression.

Dexter was there on Lalonde at incident one, according to Laton and our
Edenist friends, Western Europe said remorselessly. He was on Norfolk,
which we now recognize as the major distribution source of infection. He
was at Nyvan which has elevated the crisis to a completely new stage; as
far as we can tell one which has proved as hostile to the possessed as it
is to the ordinary population. And now we are certain he arrived here at
Supra-Brazil. He looked directly at the South America supervisor.

There was an alert at the Brazil tower station fifteen hours after the
Mounts Delta arrived, South America said tonelessly. Just after its
descent, one of the lift capsules suffered exactly the kind of electronic
glitches known to be inflicted by the possessed. We had the entire
arrivals complex sealed and surrounded within ninety seconds. Nothing. No
sign of any possessed.

But you think hes here? East Europe pressed.

South America smiled without humour. We know he is. After the alert, we
hauled in everyone who came down on the lift capsule, passengers and
crew. This is what we got from several neural nanonics memory cells.
Nyvan faded away to show a slightly fuzzy two-dimensional picture,
indicating a low-grade recording. The figure in the Royale Class lounge
wearing a blue-silk suit, and slumped comfortably in a deep chair was
undoubtedly Dexter.

Merciful Allah, North Pacific exclaimed. Well have to shut down the
vac-trains. Its our one advantage. I dont care how good he is at
eluding our sensors, the little shit cant walk a thousand kilometres
along a vacuum tunnel. Isolate the bastard, and hit him with an SD
platform strike.

I believe even we would have trouble shutting down the vac-trains,
South Pacific said significantly. Not without questions being asked.

I dont mean we should issue the order, North Pacific snapped. Feed
the information up to B3, and make the Presidents office authorize it.

If the public find out theres a possessed on Earth, there will be
absolute pandemonium, North Africa said. Even we would have trouble
retaining control over the arcologies.

Better than being possessed, North America said. Because thats what
hell do to the arcology populations if we dont stop him. Even we would
be in danger.

I think his objective is more complex than that, Western Europe said.
We know what he did to Nyvan, I think we can assume he wants to do the
same thing here.

Not a chance, Military Intelligence said. Even if he could sneak
around up in the Halo, which I doubt, hed never acquire enough nukes to
split an asteroid open. You cant remove one of those beauts from storage
without anyone knowing.

Maybe, but theres something else. Kavanagh and Fletcher Christian both
say that Dexter is here to hunt down Banneth and have his revenge on her.
I checked Dexters file; he used to be a sect member in Edmonton. Banneth
was his magus.

So what? asked North Pacific. You know what those crazy brute sect
members do to each other when the lights go off. Im not surprised he
wants to beat the crap out of Banneth.

Youre missing the point, Western Europe said patiently. Why would the
soul possessing Quinn Dexters body care about Dexters old magus? He
looked questioningly round the table. Were dealing with something new,
here, something different. An ordinary person who has somehow gained the
same powers of the possessed, if not superior ones. His goals are not
going to be the same as theirs, this craving they have to flee the
universe.

North America caught it first. Shit. He used to be a sect member.

And presumably remains so, Western Europe agreed. He was still
performing their ceremony on Lalonde; that was incident one, after all.
Dexter is a true believer in the Light Bringer teachings.

You think hes come back to find his God?

Its not a god he worships, its the devil. But no, hes not here to
find him. My people ran a psychological profile simulation; what they got
indicates hes come back to prepare the way for his Lord, the Light
Bringer, who glories in war and chaos. Hell try to unleash as much
mayhem and destruction on both us and the possessed as its possible to
do. Nyvan was just the warm up. The real game is going to be played out
down here.

Well that settles it then, North Pacific said. We have to close the
vac-trains. Itll mean losing an entire arcology to him; but we can save
the rest.

Dont be so melodramatic, Western Europe said. Dexter is a problem; a
novel one, granted. Hes different, and more powerful than all the others
B7 has faced over the centuries. But thats what we are here for,
ultimately, to solve problems which would defeat conventional government
action. We simply have to locate a weakness and use it.

An invisible megalomaniac as powerful as a minor god has a weakness?
North Pacific said. Allah preserve us, I should like to hear what it is.

The Kavanagh girl has escaped him twice. Both times it was due to the
intervention of an unknown possessed. We have an ally.

On Norfolk! Which has bloody vanished.

Nevertheless, Dexter does not command total support from the possessed.
He is not invincible. And we have what should be a decisive advantage
over him.

Which is?

We know about him. He knows nothing about us. That can be exploited to
trap him.

Ah yes, the Halo supervisor said contentedly. Now I understand the
reluctance for a personality debrief on the Kavanagh girl.

Well I dont, South America declared querulously.

Personality debrief requires a much more invasive procedure, Western
Europe said. At the moment Kavanagh is not aware of what has happened to
her. That means we can use her ignorance to get very close to Dexter.

Close to . . . South Pacific trailed off. My God, you want to use her
as a lightning conductor.

Exactly. At the moment we have one chance for proximity, and thats
Banneth. Unfortunately there is only a limited degree of preparation we
can make with her. The possessed, and therefore presumably Dexter, can
sense the emotional content of the minds around them. We have to proceed
with extreme caution if he is to be lured into a termination option. If
he learns someone is hunting him, we could lose several arcologies, if
not more. Moving the Kavanagh girl back into the game doubles our chances
of engineering an encounter with him.

Thats goddamn risky, North America said.

No, I like it, Halo said. It has subtlety; thats more us than closing
down the vac-trains and using SD fire to incinerate entire arcology
domes.

Oh heaven preserve we should let our standard of style drop when the
whole fucking world is about to go down the can, South Pacific groused.

Does anyone have a substantial objection? Western Europe enquired.

Your operation, North Pacific said hotly. Your responsibility.

Responsibility? Australia chided lightly.

There were several smiles around the table as North Pacific glowered.

Naturally I accept the consequences, Western Europe purred volubly.

Youre always such an arrogant little shit when youre this age, arent
you? North Pacific said.

Western Europe just laughed.



The three Confederation Navy marines were polite, insistent, and
resolutely uncommunicative. They escorted Joshua the entire length of
Trafalgar. Which, he thought, was a hopeful sign; he was being taken away
from the CNIS section. A day and a half of interviews with sour-faced
CNIS investigators, cooperating like a good citizen. None of his
questions answered in return. Certainly no access to a lawyerone of the
investigators had given him a filthy look when he half-jokingly asked for
legal aid. Net processors wouldnt respond to his datavises. He didnt
know where the rest of his crew was. Didnt know what was happening to
Lady Mac. And could make a pretty good guess what kind of report Monica
and Samuel were concocting.

From the tube carriage station a lift took them up to a floor which was
plainly officer country. A wide corridor, good carpet, discreet lighting,
holograms of famous Naval events (few he recognized), intent men and
women looping from office to office, none of them under the rank of
senior lieutenant. Joshua was led into a reception room with two captains
sitting at desks. One of them stood, and saluted the marines. Well take
him from here.

What is this? Joshua asked. It definitely wasnt a firing squad on the
other side of the ornate double doors in front of him, and hopefully not
a courtroom either.

The First Admiral will see you now, the captain said.

Er, Joshua said lamely. Okay, then.

The large circular office had a window overlooking the asteroids
biosphere. It was night outside, the solartubes reduced to a misty oyster
glimmer revealing little of the landscape. Big holoscreens on the walls
were flashing up external sensor images of Avon and the asteroids
spaceports. Joshua looked for Lady Mac among the docking bays, but
couldnt find her.

The captain beside him saluted. Captain Calvert, sir.

Joshua locked eyes with the man sitting behind the big teak desk in front
of him, receiving a mildly intrigued gaze from Samual Aleksandrovich.

So, the First Admiral said. Lagrange Calvert. You fly some very tight
manoeuvres, Captain.

Joshua narrowed his eyes, unsure just how much irony was being applied
here. I just do what comes naturally.

Indeed you do. I accessed that section of your file, also. The First
Admiral smiled at some internal joke, and waved a hand. Please sit down,
Captain.

A blue-steel chair swelled up out of the floor in front of the desk.
Alkad Mzu was sitting in the one next to it, body held rigid, staring
ahead. On the other side of her, Monica and Samuel had relaxed back into
their own chairs. The First Admiral introduced the demure Edenist woman
beside them as Admiral Lalwani, the CNIS chief. Joshua responded with a
very nervous twitch of greeting.

I think I had better start by saying the Confederation Navy would like
to thank you for your part in the Nyvan affair, and solving the Alchemist
problem for us, the First Admiral said. I do not like to dwell on the
consequences had the Capone Organization acquired it.

Im not under arrest?

No.

Joshua let out a hefty breath of relief. Jesus! He grinned at Monica,
who responded with a laconic smile.

Er, so can I go now? he asked without much hope.

Not quite, Lalwani said. Youre one of the few people who knows how
the Alchemist works, she told him.

Joshua did his best not to glance at Mzu. A very brief description.

Of the principles, Mzu said.

And I believe you told Samuel and agent Foulkes that you would submit to
internal exile in Tranquillity so no one else could obtain the
information, Lalwani said.

Did I? No.

Monica pantomimed deep thought. Your exact words were: Ill stay in
Tranquillity if we survive this, but I have to know.

And you said youd stay there with me, Joshua snapped back. He scowled
at her. Ever heard of Hiroshima?

The first time an atomic bomb was used on Earth, Lalwani said.

Yeah. At the time the only real secret about an atom bomb was the fact
that it was possible to build one that worked. Once it got used, that
secret was out.

The relevance being?

Anyone who visits the location where we deployed Alchemist and sees the
result, is going to be able to figure out those precious principles of
yours. After that, its just a question of engineering. Besides, the
possessed wont build another. Theyre not geared around that kind of
action.

Capones Organization might be able to, Monica said. They certainly
thought they could, remember? They wanted Mzu at any price, incarnate or
just her soul. And whos going to know where the Alchemist was used
unless you and your crew tell them?

Jesus, what do you people want from me?

Very little, said the First Admiral. I think weve established to
everyones satisfaction that youre trustworthy. He grinned at Joshuas
sour expression. Despite what that may do to your reputation. So Im
just going to ask you to agree to a few ground rules. You do not discuss
the Alchemist with anyone. And I mean anyone.

Easy enough.

For the duration of our current crisis you do not put yourself in a
position where you will encounter the possessed.

Ive already encountered them twice, I dont intend to do it again.

That effectively means you will not fly anywhere outside the Sol system.
Once you get home, you stay there.

Right. Joshua frowned. You want me to go to Sol?

Yes. You will take Dr Mzu and the Beezling survivors there. As you
pointed out with your Hiroshima analogy, we cannot push the information
genie back into the lamp, but we can certainly initiate damage
limitation. The relevant governments have agreed that Dr Mzu can be
returned to a neutral nation, where she will not communicate any details
of the Alchemist to anyone. The doctor has consented to that.

Theyll get it eventually, Joshua said softly. No matter what
agreements they sign, governments will try to build Alchemists.

No doubt, Samual Aleksandrovich said. But such problems are for the
future. And that is going to be a very different place to today, is it
not, Captain?

If we solve today, then, yeah. Itll be different. Even today is
different than yesterday.

So. Lagrange Calvert has become a philosopher?

Havent we all, knowing what we do now?

The First Admiral nodded reluctantly. Perhaps its not such a bad thing.
Somebody has to find a solution. The more there are of us searching, the
quicker it will be revealed.

Thats a lot of faith you have there, Admiral.

Of course. If I didnt have faith in the human race, I would have no
right to sit in this chair.

Joshua gave him a strong look. The First Admiral wasnt quite what hed
envisaged, the gung-ho military archetype. That made him more confident
for the future. Slightly. Okay, so where do you want me to take the doc
in the Sol system, exactly?

Samual Aleksandrovich smiled broadly. Ah yes, this is one piece of news
I shall enjoy imparting.



<< Friend Jay, please cry not. >>

Hailes voice was no stronger than the memory of a dream. Jay had closed
up her mind as tight as her eyelids. She just lay on the floor, all
curled up, sobbing at . . . everything. Ever since that terrible day on
Lalonde when the Ivets went mad, she and Mummy had been torn further and
further apart. First the cramped house on the savannah. Then
Tranquillity, where shed heard rumours of the possessed taking Lalonde
out of the universeeven though the paediatric ward staff had been
careful about allowing the refugee kids access to any news. Now this,
flying like an angel to another galaxy. Where shed never get back from.
And shed never see Mummy ever again. Everyone she knew was either dead,
or about to be possessed. She wailed louder, so much it hurt her throat.

The back of her head was full of warm whispers, pushing to be let in.

<< Jay, please restrain yourself. >>

<< She is developing cyclic trauma psychosis. >>

<< We should impose a thalamic regulator routine. >>

<< Humans respond better to chemical suppressers. >>

<< Certainty? >>

<< Ambiguous context. >>

<< Referral to Corpus. >>

Tractamorphic flesh was slithering round her, rubbing gently. She shook
at the touch of it.

Then there was a sharp regular clicking sound, tac tac tac, like heels on
the cool hard floor. Human heels.

What in seven heavens name do you lot think youre doing? a womans
voice asked sharply. Give the poor dear some air, for goodness sake.
Come on, get back. Right back. Move out the way. There followed the
distinctive sound of a human hand being slapped against a Kiint hide.

Jay stopped crying.

Move! You too, you little terror.

<< That causes painfulness, >>Haile protested.

Then learn to move quicker.

Jay smeared some of the tears from her eyes, and peered up just in time
to see someones finger and thumb pinching the crater ridge of skin
around Hailes ear, hauling her aside. The baby Kiints legs were getting
all twisted round as she skittled hurriedly out of the way.

The owner of the hand smiled down at Jay. Well well, sweetie, havent
you just caused a stir? And whatever are all these tears for? I suppose
you had a bit of shock when they jumped you here. Dont blame you. That
stupid leaping through the darkness stunt used to give me the chronic
heebie-jeebies every time. Ill take a Model-T over that any day. Now
there was a really gracious method of transport. Would you like a hanky,
wipe your face a bit?

Uh, Jay said. Shed never seen a woman quite so old before; her brown
Mediterranean skin was deeply wrinkled, and her back curved slightly,
giving her shoulders a permanent hunch. The dress she wore had come
straight out from a history text, lemon-yellow cotton printed with tiny
white flowers, complemented by a wide belt and lace collar and cuffs.
Thin snow-white hair had been permed into a neat beret; and a double loop
of large pearls round her neck chittered softly with every movement. It
was as if shed turned age into a statement of pride. But her green eyes
were vividly alert.

A frilly lace handkerchief was pulled from her sleeve, and proffered to
Jay.

Thank you, Jay gulped. She took the hanky, and blew into it heavily.
The huge adult Kiint had all backed off, standing several paces behind
the small woman, keeping close together in a mutual support group. Haile
was pressed against Lieria, who had formshifted a tractamorphic arm to
stroke her daughter soothingly.

So now, sweetie, why dont you start by telling me your name.

Jay Hilton.

Jay. The womans jowls bobbled, as if she was sucking on a particularly
hard mint. Thats nice. Well, Jay, Im Tracy Dean.

Hello. Um, you are real, arent you?

Tracy laughed. Oh yes, sweetie, Im genuine flesh and blood, all right.
And before you ask why Im here, this is my home now. But well save the
explanations until tomorrow. Because theyre very long and complicated,
and youre tired and upset. You need to get some sleep now.

I dont want to sleep, Jay stammered. Everybody in Tranquillitys
dead, and Im here. And I want Mummy. And shes gone.

Oh, Jay, no, sweetie. Tracy knelt beside the little girl, and hugged
her tight. Jay was sniffling again, ready to burst into tears. Nobodys
dead. Tranquillity swallowed away clean before any of the combat wasps
reached it. These silly oafs got it all wrong and panicked. Arent they
stupid?

Tranquillitys alive?

Yes.

And Ione, and Father Horst, and everybody?

Yes, all safe and sound. Tranquillity is orbiting Jupiter right this
minute. That surprised everybody, let me tell you.

But . . . how did it do that?

Were not quite sure yet, but it must have an awful lot of energy
patterning cells tucked away somewhere inside it. She gave Jay a sly
grin, and winked. Tricky people, those Saldanas. And very clever with
it, thankfully.

Jay managed an experimental smile.

Thats better. Now, lets see about finding you that bed for the night.
Tracy rose to her feet, holding Jays hand.

Jay used her free hand to wipe the handkerchief across her face as she
scrambled to her feet. Oh right. Actually, she thought that talk of
explanations sounded quite fascinating now. There was so much about this
place she wanted to know. It would be worth staying awake for.

<< You now have betterness, query? >>Haile asked anxiously.

Jay nodded enthusiastically at her friend. Much better.

<< That is good. >>

<< I will assume complete Jay Hilton guardian responsibility now. >>

Jay cocked her head to give Tracy Dean a sideways look. How could she use
the Kiint mental voice?

<< Confirm, >>Nang said. The words Jay could hear in her head speeded up
then, becoming a half-imagined birdsong, but suffused with feeling.

<< We will venture wide together, >>Haile said. << See new things. There
is muchness here to see. >>

Tomorrow, maybe, Tracy said. We have to get Jay settled in here first.

Jay shrugged at her friend.

Now then, Jay, were going to jump out of here. Itll be the same as
before, but this time you know its happening, and Ill be with you the
whole time. All right?

Couldnt we just walk, or use a groundcar, or something?

Tracy smiled sympathetically. Not really, sweetie. She pointed up at
the planets arching over the dark sky. My home is on one of those.

Oh. But I will be seeing Haile while Im here, wont I? Jay raised her
hand and waved at her friend. Haile formshifted the tip on one of her
tractamorphic arms into a human hand, and wriggled the fingers.

<< We will build the castles of sand again. >>

Close your eyes, Tracy said. Its easier that way. Her arm went round
Jays shoulder. Are you ready?

This time it wasnt so bad. There was that quick breeze ruffling her
nightie again, and despite having her eyes shut her stomach was telling
her very urgently that she was falling again. A squeak crept out of her
lips in spite of her best efforts.

Its all right sweetie, were here now. You can open your eyes again.

The breeze had vanished, its departure signalling a whole symphony of
fresh sound. Hot sunlight tingled her skin; when she breathed in she
could taste salt.

Jay opened her eyes. There was a beach in front of her, one which made
the little cove on Tranquillity seem quite pallid by comparison. The
powder-fine sand was snow-white, stretching out on either side of her for
as far as she could see. Wonderfully clear turquoise water lapped against
it, languid waves rolling in from a reef several hundred metres out. A
beautiful three-masted yacht of some golden wood was anchored half-way
between the shore and the reef, undeniably human in design.

Jay grinned at it, then shielded her eyes with a hand and looked round.
She was standing on a circle of the same ebony material as before, but
this time there was no encircling wall or watching Kiint. The only
artefact was a bright orange cylinder, as tall as she was, standing next
to the edge. Scatterings of sand were drifting onto the circle.

Behind her, a thick barricade of trees and bushes lined the rear of the
beach. Long creeper tendrils had slithered out of them over the
hard-packed sand, knitting together in a tough lacework that sprouted
blue and pink palm-sized flowers. The only noise was the waves and some
kind of honking in the distance, almost like a flock of geese. When she
searched the cloudless sky, she could see several birds flapping and
gliding about in the distance. The arch of planets was a line of silver
disks twinkling away into the horizon.

Where are we now? Jay asked.

Home. Tracys face managed to produce even more wrinkles as she sniffed
distastefully. Not that anywhere is really home after spending two
thousand years swanning loyally round Earth and the Confederation
planets.

Jay stared at her in astonishment. Youre two thousand years old?

Thats right, sweetie. Why, dont I look it?

Jay blushed. Well . . .

Tracy laughed, and took hold of her hand. Come along, lets find you
that bed. Ill think Ill put you in my guest quarters. Thatll be
simplest. Never thought Id ever get to use them.

They walked off the ebony circle. Up ahead of them, Jay could see some
figures lazing on the beach, while others were swimming in the sea. Their
strokes were slow and controlled. She realized they were all as old as
Tracy. Now Jay was paying attention, she could make out several chalets
lurking in the vegetation behind the beach. They were strung out on
either side of a white stone building with a red tile roof and a
sizeable, well-manicured garden; it looked like some terribly exclusive
clubhouse. Still more old people were sitting at iron tables on the
lawns, reading, playing what looked like a board game, or just staring
out to sea. Mauve-coloured globes, the size of a head, were floating
through the air, moving sleekly from table to table. If they found an
empty glass or plate they would absorb it straight through their surface.
In many cases they would extrude a replacement; the new glasses were
full, and the plates piled with sandwiches or biscuit-type snacks.

Jay walked along obediently at Tracys side, her head swivelling about as
she took in the amazing new sights. As they approached the big building,
people looked their way and smiled encouragingly, nodding, waving.

Why are they doing that? Jay asked. All the excitement and fright had
worn off now she knew she was safe, leaving her very tired.

Tracy chuckled. Having you here is the biggest event thats happened to
this place for a long time. Probably ever.

Tracy led her towards one of the chalets; a simple wooden structure with
a veranda running along the front, on which stood big clay pots full of
colourful plants. Jay could only think of the pretty little houses of the
Juliffe villages on the day she and her mother had started sailing
upriver to Aberdale. She sighed at the recollection. The universe had
become very strange since then.

Tracy patted her gently. Almost there, sweetie. They started up the
steps to the veranda.

Hi there, a mans voice called brightly.

Tracy groaned impatiently. Richard, leave her alone. The poor little
dears dead on her feet.

A young man in scarlet shorts and a white T-shirt was jogging barefoot
across the sands towards them. He was tall with an athletic figure, his
long blond hair tied back into a ponytail by a flamboyant leather lace.
He pouted at the rebuke, then winked playfully at Jay. Oh, come on,
Trace; just paying my respects to a fellow escapee. Hello, Jay, my names
Richard Keaton. He gave a bow, and stuck his hand out.

Jay smiled uncertainly at him, and put out her own hand. He shook it
formally. His whole attitude put her in mind of Joshua Calvert, which was
comforting. Did you jump out of Tranquillity as well? she asked.

Heavens, no, nothing like that. I was on Nyvan when someone tried to
drop a dirty great lump of metal on me. Thought it best I slipped away
when no one was looking.

Oh.

I know everything is real weird for you right now, so I just wanted you
to have this. He produced a doll resembling some kind of animal, a
flattish humanoid figure made from badly worn out brown-gold velvet; its
mouth and nose were just lines of black stitching, and its eyes were
amber glass. One semicircular ear had been torn off, allowing tufts of
yellowing stuffing to peek out of the gash.

Jay gave the battered old thing a suspicious look, it wasnt anything
like the animatic dolls back in Tranquillitys paediatric ward. In fact,
it looked even more primitive than any toy on Lalonde. Which was pretty
hard to believe. Thank you, she said awkwardly as he proffered it.
What is it?

This is Prince Dell, my old Teddy Bear. Which dates me. But friends like
this were all the rage on Earth when I was young. Hes the ancestor of
all those animatic dolls you kids have these days. If you hold him close
at night he keeps troubles away from your dreams. But you have to keep
cuddling him tight for him to be able to do that properly. Something to
do with earth magic and contact; funny stuff like that. He used to sleep
with me until I was a lot older than you. I thought he might be able to
help you tonight.

He sounded so serious and hopeful that Jay took the bear from him and
examined it closely. Prince Dell really was very tatty, but she could
just picture him in the embrace of a sleeping boy with blond hair. The
boy was smiling blissfully.

All right, she said. Ill hold on to him tonight. Thank you very
much. It seemed a bit silly, but it was kind of him to be so considerate.

Richard Keaton smiled gladly. Thats good. The Prince hasnt had much to
do for a long time. Hell be happy to have a new friend. Make sure you
treat him nicely, hes a bit delicate now, poor thing.

I will, Jay promised. Are you really old, as well?

Older than most people youve ever met, but nothing like as antique as
good old Trace, here.

Huh, Tracy sniffed critically. If youre quite finished.

Richard rolled his eyes for Jays benefit. Sweet dreams, Jay. Ill see
you tomorrow, weve got lots to talk about.

Richard, Tracy asked reluctantly. Did Calvert do it?

A huge smile flashed over his face. Oh yeah. He did it. The Alchemist is
neutralized. Just as well, it was a brute of a weapon.

Typical. If theyd just devote ten per cent of their military budget and
all that ingenuity into developing their social conditions.

Preaching to the converted!

Are you talking about Joshua? Jay asked. Whats he done?

Something very good, Richard said.

Amazingly, Tracy muttered dryly.

But . . .

Tomorrow, sweetie, Tracy said firmly. Along with everything else. I
promise. Right now, youre going to bed. Enough delaying tactics.

Richard waved, and walked away. Jay held Prince Dell against her tummy as
Tracys hand pressed into her back, propelling her up the steps and into
the chalet. She glanced down at the ancient bear again. His dull glass
eyes stared right back at her, it was an incredibly melancholic
expression.



The first hellhawk came flashing out of its wormhole terminus twelve
thousand kilometres from Monterey asteroid. New Californias gravitonic
detector warning satellites immediately datavised an alert to the naval
tactical operations centre. The high pitched audio alarm startled Emmet
Mordden, who was the duty officer in the large chamber. At the time he
was sitting with his feet up on the commanders console, reading through
a four-hundred-sheet hard copy guide of a Quantumsoft accountancy program
in preparation for his next upgrade to the Treasury computers. With most
of the Organization fleet away at Tranquillity, and the planet reasonably
stable right now, it was a quiet duty, just right to catch up on his
technical work.

Emmets feet hit the floor as the AI responsible for threat analysis
squirted a mass of symbols and vectors up on one of the huge wall-mounted
holoscreens. In front of him, the equally surprised SD network operators
scrambled to interpret what was happening. There werent many of them
among the eight rows of consoles in the centre, nothing like the full
complement which the Organization had needed at the height of the Edenist
harassment campaign. Right now, spaceflight traffic was at a minimum, and
the contingent of Valisk hellhawks on planetary defence duty had done a
superb job of clearing Edenist stealth mines and spy globes from space
around the planet.

What is it? Emmet asked automatically; by which time another three
wormholes had opened. The precariously-stacked pile of hard copy
avalanched off his console as he determinedly cleared his keyboard ready
to respond.

The AI had acquired X-ray laser lock on for the first four targets, and
was requesting fire authority. Another ten wormholes were opening. Jull
von Holger, who acted as the go-between for the Valisk hellhawks and the
operations centre, leapt to his feet, shouting: Dont shoot! He waved
his arms frantically. Theyre ours! Theyre our hellhawks.

Emmet hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keys. According to his
console displays, over eighty wormholes had now opened to disgorge bitek
starships. What the fuck do they think theyre doing busting in on us
like that? Why arent they with the fleet? Suspicion flowered among his
thoughts; and he didnt care that von Holger could sense it. Hellhawks
were dangerously powerful craft, and with the fleet away they could make
real trouble. Hed never really trusted Kiera Salter.

Jull von Holgers face went through a wild panoply of emotion-derived
contortions as he conducted fast affinity conversations with the
unexpected arrivals. Theyre not from the fleet. Theyve come here
directly from Valisk. He halted for a moment, shocked. Its gone.
Valisk has gone. We lost to that little prat Dariat.



Holy shit, Hudson Proctor gasped.

Kiera stuck her head round the bathroom door as the beautician tried to
wrap her sopping wet hair in a huge fluffy purple towel. The Quayle suite
in the Monterey Hilton was a temple to opulence and personal luxury. As
Rubra had denied everyone access to the Valisk starscrapers, along with
their apartment bathrooms, Kiera had simply groomed herself with
energistic power alone. She had forgotten what it was to sprawl in a
Jacuzzi with a selector that could blend in any of a dozen exotic salts.
And as for having her hair styled properly rather than forcing it into
shape . . .

What? she snapped in annoyance; though the beacon-bright dismay in her
associates mind tempered any real fury at being interrupted.

The hellhawks are here, he said. All of them. Theyve come from
Valisk. Its . . . He flinched in trepidation. Delivering bad news to
Kiera was always a desperately negative career move. Just because she had
the kind of teenage-sweetheart looks which could (and had) suckered in
non-possessed kids from right across the Confederation didnt mean her
behaviour matched. Quite the oppositeshe took a perverse enjoyment from
that, too. Bonney chased after Dariat, apparently. There was a big fight
in one of the starscrapers. Plenty of our people got flung back into the
beyond. Then she forced him to ally with Rubra, or something.

What happened?

They, erValisks gone. The two of them took the habitat out of the
universe.

Kiera stared at him, little wisps of steam starting to lick out of her
hair. Shed always bitterly regretted that Marie Skibbow didnt have some
kind of affinity faculty; its absence had always put her at a slight
disadvantage in Valisk. But shed coped, the entire worldlet and its
formidable starships had belonged to her. Shed been a power to contend
with. Even Capone had sought out her help. Now

Kiera gave the non-possessed beautician girl a blank-eyed glance. Get
lost.

Maam. The girl curtseyed, and almost sprinted for the suites double
doors on the other side of the lounge.

Kiera allowed herself a muted scream of fury when the doors closed. That
fucking Dariat! I knew it! I fucking knew he was a disaster waiting to
happen.

Were still in charge of the hellhawks, Hudson Proctor said. That
gives us a big chunk of Capones action; and the Organization is in
charge of a couple of star systems, with more on the way. Its not such a
loss. If wed been inside the habitat it would be one hell of a lot
worse.

If Id been inside, it would never have happened, she snapped back. Her
hair was abruptly dry, and her robe blurred, running like hot wax until
it became a sharp mauve business suit. Control, she murmured almost to
herself. Thats the key here.

Hudson Proctor could sense her focusing on him, both her eyes and her
mind.

Are you with me? she asked. Or are you going to ask good old Al if you
can sign on as one of his lieutenants?

Why would I do that?

Because if I cant keep control of the hellhawks, Im nothing to the
Organization. She smiled thinly. You and I would have to start right
back at the beginning again. With the hellhawks obeying us, well still
be players.

He glanced out of the big window, searching space for a sight of the
bitek starships. Weve got no hold on them any more, he said
dejectedly. Without the affinity-capable bodies stored in Valisk,
theres no way theyll do as theyre ordered. And there arent any more
of Rubras family left for us to replace them with. Weve lost.

Kiera shook her head impatiently. Considering shed coopted the
ex-general to her council for his ability to think tactically, he was
doing a remarkably poor job of it. But then, maybe a politicians
instinct was naturally quicker at finding an opponents weakness.
Theres one thing left which they cant do for themselves.

And that is?

Eat. The only sources of their nutrient fluid which theyll be able to
use are on Organization-held asteroids. Without food, even bitek
organisms will wither and die. And we know our energistic power cant
magic up genuine food.

Then Capone will control them.

No. Kiera could sense his anxiety at the prospect of losing his status,
and knew she could rely on him. She closed her eyes, focusing on
assignments for the small number of her people shed brought with her to
Monterey. Which is the most reliable hellhawk weve got on planetary
defence?

Reliable?

Loyal, idiot. To me.

Thatll probably be Etchells in the Stryla. Hes a regular little Nazi,
always complaining hellhawks never see enough battle action. Doesnt get
on too well with the others, either.

Perfect. Call him back to Montereys docking ledges and go on board. I
want you to visit every Organization asteroid in this system with a
nutrient fluid production system. And blow it to shit.

Hudson gave her an astounded look, trepidation replacing the earlier
anxiety. The asteroids?

No, shithead! Just the production systems. You dont even have to dock,
just use an X-ray laser. Thatll leave Monterey as their only supply
point. She smiled happily. The Organization has enough to do right now
without the burden of maintaining all that complicated machinery. I think
Ill go down there right now with our experts, and relieve them.



It wasnt dawn which arose over the wolds, in as much as there was no sun
to slide above the horizon any more, but none the less the darkened sky
grew radiant in homage to Norfolks lost diurnal rhythm. Luca Comar felt
it developing because he was a part of making it happen. By coming to
this place he had freed himself from the clamour of the souls lost within
the beyond, their tormented screams and angry pleas. In exchange he had
gained an awareness of community.

Born at the tail end of the Twenty-first Century hed grown up in the
Amsterdam arcology. It was a time when people still clung to the hope
that the planet could be healed, their superb technology employed to turn
the clock back to the nevertime of halcyon pastoral days. In his youth,
Luca dreamed of the land returned to immense parkland vistas with proud
white and gold cities straddling the horizon. A child brought up by some
of the last hippies on Earth, his formative years were spent loving the
knowledge that togetherness was all. Then he turned eighteen, and for the
first time in his existence reality had bitten, and bitten hard; he had
to get a job, and an apartment, and pay taxes. Not nice. He resented it
until the day his body died.

So now he had stolen a new body, and with the strange powers that theft
had bestowed, hed joined with the others of this planet to create their
own Gaia. Unity of life was a pervasive, shroud-like presence wrapping
itself around the planet, replacing the regimented order of the universe
as their provider. Because the new inhabitants of Norfolk wished there to
be a dawn, there was one. And as they equally desired night, so the light
was banished. He contributed a little of himself to this Gaia, some of
his wishes, some of his strength, a constant avowal of thanks to this new
phase of his existence.

Luca sat on the edge of the huge bed in the master bedroom to watch the
light strengthen outside Cricklade; a silver warmth shining down from the
sky, its uniformity leaving few shadows. With it came the sense of
anticipation, a new day to be treasured because of the opportunity it
might bring.

A dull dawn, bland and boring, just as the days have become. We used to
have two suns, and revelled in the contrast of colours they brought, the
battle of shadows. They had energy and majesty, they inspired. But this,
this . . .

The woman on the bed beside Luca stretched and rolled over, resting her
chin in her hand and smiling up at him. Morning, she purred.

He grinned back. Lucy was good company, sharing a lot of his enthusiasms,
as well as a wicked sense of humour. A tall woman, great figure, thick
chestnut hair worn long, barely into her mid-twenties. He never asked how
much of her appearance was hers, and how much belonged to her host. The
age of your host had swiftly become taboo. He liked to think himself
modern enough so that bedding a ninety-year-old wouldnt bother him, age
and looks being different concepts here. He still didnt ask, though. The
solid image was good enough.

An image so close to Marjorie it verges on the idolatrous. Did this Lucy
see that in my heart?

Luca yawned widely. Id better get going. We have to inspect the mill
this morning, and I need to know how much seed corn weve actually got
left in the silos over in the estates western farms. I dont believe
what the residents are telling me. It doesnt correspond with what Grant
knows.

Lucy pulled a dour face. One week in heaven, and the four horsemen are
already giving us the eye.

Alas, this is not heaven, Im afraid.

And dont I know it. Fancy having to work for a living when youre dead.
God, the indignity.

The wages of sin, lady. We did have one hell of a party to start with,
after all.

She flopped back down on the bed, tongue poised tautly on her upper lip.
Sure did. You know I was quite repressed back when I was alive first
time around. Sexually, that is.

Hallelujah, its a miracle cure.

She gave a husky chuckle, then sobered. Im supposed to be helping out
in the kitchen today. Cooking the workers lunch, then taking it out to
the fields for them. Bugger, its like some kind of Amish festival. And
how come were reverting to gender stereotypes?

What do you mean?

Its us girls that are doing all the cooking.

Not all of you.

The majority. You should work out a better rota for us.

Why me?

You seem to be taking charge around here. Quite the little baron.

Okay, I designate you to draw up a proper equitable rota. He stuck his
tongue out at her. You should be good at secretarial work.

The pillow hit him on the side of his head, nearly knocking him off the
bed. He caught the next one, and put it out of her reach. I didnt do it
deliberately, he said seriously. People tell me what they can do, and I
shove them at the first matching job. We need to get a list of
occupations and skills sorted out.

She moaned. Bureaucracy in heaven, thats worse than sexism.

Just think yourself lucky we havent got round to introducing taxes
yet. He started searching round for his trousers. Luckily, the Manor had
entire wardrobes of Grant Kavanaghs high-quality clothes. They werent
quite Lucas style, but at least they fitted perfectly. And the outdoor
gear was hard-wearing, too. It saved him from having to dream up new
stuff. That was harder here, in this realm. Imagined items took a long
time to form, but when they did, they had more substance, and persevered
longer. Concentrate hard enough and long enough on changing something,
and the change would become permanent, requiring no more attention.

But that was inert objects: clothes, stone, wood, even chunks of
machinery (not electronics), they could all be fashioned by the mind.
Which was fortunate; Norfolks low-technology infrastructure could be
repaired with relative ease. Physical appearance, too, could be governed
by a wish, flesh gradually morphing into a new forminevitably firmer and
younger. The majority of possessed were intent on reverting to their
original features. As seen through a rose-tinted mirror, Luca suspected.
Having quite so many beautiful people emerge in one place together was
statistically implausible.

Not that vanity was their real problem. The one intractable difficulty of
this new life was food. Energistic power simply could not conjure any
into existence; no matter how creative or insistent you were. Oh, you
could cover a plate with a mountain of caviar; but cancel the illusion
and the glistening black mass would relapse into a pile of leaves, or
whatever raw material you were trying to bend to your will.

Irony or mockery, Luca couldnt quite decide what their deliverance had
led them to. But whichever it was, eternity tilling the fields was better
than eternity in the beyond. He finished dressing, and gave Lucy an
expectant, slightly chiding look.

All right, she grumbled. Im getting up. Ill pull my communal weight.

He kissed her. Catch you later.

Lucy waited until the door shut behind him, then pulled the sheets back
over her head.



Most of the manors residents were already awake and bustling about. Luca
said a dozen good-mornings as he made his way downstairs. As he walked
along the grand corridors, the state of the building gradually
registered. Windows left ajar, allowing the nightly sprinkling of rain to
stain the carpets and furniture; open doors showed him glimpses of rooms
with clothes strewn everywhere, remnants of meals on plates, grey mould
growing out of mugs, sheets unwashed since the start of Norfolks
possession. It wasnt apathy, exactly, more like teenage carelessnessthe
belief that mum will always be around to clean up after you.

Bloody squalor junkies. Wouldnt have happened in my day, by damn.

There were over thirty people having their breakfast in Cricklades
dining hall, which now served as the communitys canteen. The big chamber
was three stories high, with a wooden ceiling supported by skilfully
carved rafters. Cascade chandeliers hung on strong chains; their light
globes were inoperative, but they bounced plenty of the skys ambient
light around the hall, illuminating the elaborate Earth-woodland frescos
painted between every window. A thick blue and cream coloured Chinese
carpet silenced Lucas boots as he walked over to the counter and helped
himself to scrambled egg from an iron baking dish.

The plate he used was chipped, the silver cutlery was tarnished, and the
polish on the huge central table was scuffed and scratched. He nodded to
his companions as he sat, holding back any criticism. Focus on
priorities, he told himself. Things were up and running at a basic level,
thats what counts. The food was plain but adequate; not rationed
exactly, but carefully controlled. They were all reverting to a more
civilized state of behaviour.

For a while after Quinn left, Cricklades new residents had joyfully
discarded the sects loathsome teachings which the monster had imposed,
and dived into a continual orgy of sex and overconsumption. It was a
reaction to the beyond; deliberately immersing themselves in complete
sensory-glut. Nothing mattered except feeling, and taste, and smell. Luca
had eaten and drunk his way through the manors extensive cuisine
supplies, shagged countless girls with supermodel looks, flung himself
into ludicrously dangerous games, persecuted and hounded the
non-possessed. Then, with painful slowness, the morning after had finally
dawned, bringing the burden of responsibility and even a degree of
decency.

It was the day when the bathroom shower nozzle squirted raw sewage over
him that Luca started to gather up likeminded people and set about
restoring the estate to working order. Pure hedonistic anarchy, it turned
out, was not a sustainable environment.

Luca saw Susannah emerge from the door leading to the kitchen. His every
movement suddenly became very cautious. She was carrying a fresh bowl of
steaming tomatoes, which she plonked down on the self-service counter.

As he had applied himself to getting the farming side of the estate
functional again, so she had taken on the manor itself. She was making a
good job of providing meals and keeping the place rolling along (even
though it wasnt maintained as it had been in the old days).
Appropriately enough, for Susannah was possessing Marjorie Kavanaghs
body. Naturally, there had been little room for physical improvement;
shed discarded about a decade, and shortened her extravagant landowner
hair considerably, but the essential figure and features remained the
same.

She picked up an empty bowl and walked back to the kitchen. Their eyes
met, and she gave him a slightly confused smile before she disappeared
back through the door.

Luca swallowed the mush of egg in his mouth before he choked on it. There
had been so much he wanted to cram into that moment. So much to say. And
their troubled thoughts had resonated together. She knew what he knew,
and he knew . . .

Ridiculous!

Hardly. She belongs with us.

Ridiculous because Susannah had found someone: Austin. They were happy
together. And I have Lucy. For convenience. For sex. Not for love.

Luca forked up the last of his eggs, and washed them down with some tea.
Impatience boiled through him. I need to be out there, get those damn
slackers cracking.

He found Johan sitting at the other end of the table, with the single
slice of toast and glass of orange which was his whole meal. You ready
yet? he asked curtly.

Johans rounded face registered an ancient expression of suffering,
creasing up into lines so ingrained they must have been there since
birth. There was a glint of sweat on his brow. Yes, sir; Im fit for
another day.

Luca could have mouthed the ritual reply in tandem. Johan was possessing
Mr Butterworth. The physical transformation from a lumbering, chubby
sixty-year-old to virile twenty-something youth was almost complete,
though some of the old estate managers original characteristics seemed
to defy modification.

Come on then, lets be going.

He strode out of the hall, directing sharp glances at several of the men
around the table as he went. Johan was already rising to his feet to
scurry after Luca. Those who had received the visual warning crammed food
in their mouths and stood hurriedly, anxious not to be left behind.

Luca had a dozen of them follow him into the stables, where they started
to saddle up their horses. The estates rugged farm ranger vehicles were
still functional, but nobody was using them right now. The electricity
grid had been damaged during the wild times, and only a couple of
possessed in Stoke County owned up to having the knowledge to repair it.
Progress was slow; the small amount of power coming from the geothermal
cables was reserved for tractors.

It took Luca a couple of minutes to saddle up his horse; buckles and
straps fastened into place without needing to thinkGrants knowledge.
Then he led the piebald mare out into the courtyard, past the burnt out
ruins of the other stable block. Most of the horses Louise had set free
during the fire had come back; they still had over half of the manors
superb herd left.

He had to ride slower than he liked, allowing the others to keep up. But
the freedom of the wolds made up for it. All as it should be. Almost.

Individual farms huddled in the lee of the shallow valleys, stolid stone
houses seeking protection against Norfolks arctic winters; they were
scattered about the estate almost at random. Their fields had all been
ploughed now, and the tractors were out drilling the second crop. Luca
had gone round the storage warehouses himself, selecting the stock of
barley, wheat, maize, oats, a dozen varieties of beans, vegetables. Some
fields had already started to sprout, dusting the rich dark soil with a
gossamer haze of luxuriant emerald. It was going to be a good yield, the
nightly rain they conjured up would ensure that.

He was thankful that most of the disruption to the estate had been
superficial. It just needed a firm guiding hand to get everything back on
track.

As they approached Colsterworth, the farms were closer together, fields
forming a continual quilt. Luca led his team round the outskirts. The
streets were busy, clotted by the towns residents as they strove for
activity and normality. Nearly all of them recognized Luca as he rode
past. His influence wasnt quite so great here, though it was his
objectives which had been adopted. The town had elected itself a council
of sorts, who acknowledged Luca had the right goals in restarting the
countys basic infrastructure. A majority of the townsfolk went along
with the council, repairing the water pump house and the sewage treatment
plant, clearing the burnt carriages and carts from the streets, even
attempting to repair the telephone system. But the councils real power
came from food distribution, over which it had a monopoly, loyalists
mounting a round the clock guard on the warehouses.

Luca spurred his horse over the canal bridge, a wood and iron arch in the
Victorian tradition. The structure was another of the councils repair
projects, lengths of genuine fresh timber had been dovetailed into the
original seasoned planking; energistic power had been utilised to reform
the iron girders that had been smashed and twisted (somehow they couldnt
quite match the blue paint colour, so the new sections were clearly
visible).

The Moulin de Hurley was on the other bank, a big mill house which
supplied nearly a quarter of Kesteven island with flour. It had dark-red
brick walls cut by tall iron-rimmed windows; one end was built over a
small stream, which churned excitedly out of a brick arch before emptying
into the canal at the end of the wharf. A series of tree-lined reservoir
ponds were staggered up the gentle curve of the valley which rose away
behind the building.

There was a team appointed by the council to help him waiting by the
Moulins gates. Their leader, Marcella Rye, was standing right underneath
the metal archway supporting an ornate letter K. Which gave Luca a warm
sensation of contentment. After all, he owned the mill. No! The
Kavanaghs. The Kavanaghs owned it. Used to own it.

Luca greeted Marcella enthusiastically, hoping the flush of bonhomie
would prevent her from sensing his agitation at the lapse. I think itll
be relatively easy to get this up and running again, he said
expansively. The water powers the large grinder mechanism, and theres a
geothermal cable to run the smaller machines. It should still be
producing electricity.

Glad to hear it. The storage sheds were ransacked, of course, she
pointed at a cluster of large outbuildings. Their big wooden doors had
been wrenched open; splintered and scorched, they now hung at a
precarious angle. But once the food was gone, nobody bothered with the
place.

Fine, as long as theres no . . . Luca broke off, sensing the whirl of
alarm in Johans thoughts. He turned just in time to see the man stumble,
his legs giving way to pitch him onto his knees. Whats?

Johans youthful outline was wavering as he pressed his fists against his
forehead; his whole face was contorted in an agony of concentration.

Luca knelt beside him. Shit, what is it?

Nothing, Johan hissed. Nothing. Im okay, just dizzy thats all.
Sweat was glistening all over his face and hands. Heat from the ride got
to me. Ill be fine. He clambered to his feet, wheezing heavily.

Luca gave him a confused glance, not understanding at all. How could
anyone be ill in a realm in which a single thought had the power of
creation? Johan must be severely hung over; a body wasnt flawlessly
obedient to the minds wishes here. They still had to eat, after all. But
his deputy didnt normally go in for heroic benders.

Marcella was frowning at them, uncertain. Johan gave a forced Im fine
nod. Wed best go in, he said.

Nobody had been in the mill since the day Quinn Dexter had arrived in
town. It was cool inside; the power was off, and the tall smoked-glass
windows filtered the daylight down to a listless pearl. Luca led the
party along the dispenser line. Large, boxy stainless steel machines
stood silent above curving conveyer belts.

Initial grinding is done at the far end, he lectured. Then these
machines blend and refine the flour, and bag it. We used to produce
twelve different types in here: plain, self-raising, granary, savoury,
strong whiteyou name it. Sent them all over the island.

Very homely, Marcella drawled.

Luca let it ride. I can release new stocks of grain from the estate
warehouses. But He went over to one of the hulking machines, and tugged
a five pound bag from the feed mechanism below the hopper nozzle; it was
made of thick paper, with the Moulins red and green water wheel logo
printed on the front. Our first problem is going to be finding a new
stock of these to package the flour in. They used to come from a company
in Boston.

So? Just think them up.

Luca wondered how shed wound up with this assignment. Refused to sleep
with the council leader? Even if we only produce white flour for the
bakeries, and package it in sacks, youre looking at a couple of hundred
a day, he explained patiently. Then you need flour for pastry and
cakes, which people will want to bake at home. Thats several thousand
bags a day. Theyd all have to be thought up individually.

All right, so what do you suggest?

Actually, we were hoping you might like to come up with a solution.
After all, were supplying the expertise to get the mill going again, and
providing you with grain.

Gee, thanks.

No thanks needed. This isnt a Communist society, were not giving it
away. Youll have to pay for it.

Its as much ours as it is yours. Her voice had risen until it was
almost an indignant squeal.

Possession is nine-tenths of the law. He grinned mirthlessly. Ask your
host. His mind detected his people were sharing his amusement; even
Johans thoughts were lighter. The townies were highly uncomfortable with
the facts being presented.

Marcella regarded him with blatant mistrust. How do you propose we pay?

Some kind of ledger, I suppose. Work owed to us. After all, were the
ones growing the food for you.

And were running the mill for you, and transporting the stuff all over
the county.

Good. Thats a start then isnt it? Im sure therell be other useful
industries in Colsterworth, too. Our tractors and field machinery will
need spares. Now all we need is a decent exchange rate.

Im going to have to go back to the council with this.

Naturally. Luca had reached the wall separating the dispenser line from
the chamber housing the main grinder. There were several large electrical
distribution boxes forming their own mosaic over the bricks. Each one had
an amber light glowing brightly on the front. He started pressing the
trip buttons in a confident sequence. The broad tube lights overhead
flickered as they came alight, sending down a blue-white radiance almost
brighter than the sky outside. Luca smiled in satisfaction at his mental
prowess. The circuitry for governing this old island was mapped out in
his mind now, percolating up from his host.

His modest feeling of contentment faded, absorbed by a new body of
emotion slipping over his perceptual horizon. Around him, the others were
reacting in the same fashion. All of them turned instinctively to face
the same outer wall, as if trying to stare through the bricks. A group of
people were approaching Colsterworth. Dark thoughts sliding through
Norfolks atmosphere of the mind like threatening storm clouds.

I think wed better go take a look, Luca said. There were no dissenters.



They used the railway to get about over the island, adapting one of the
utilitarian commuter trains which had trundled between the islands
towns. A steam-powered ironclad fortress now clanked and hissed its way
along the rails, hauling a couple of Orient Express carriages behind it.
Several sets of what looked like twin recoilless ack-ack guns had been
mounted at both ends of the train, while the barrel of a big tank cannon
pointed along the top of the boiler, emerging from the combination
turret/drivers cabin.

Just outside Colsterworth, where the rail went over the canal before it
got to the station, Luca and Marcella stood side by side on the
embankment at the head of their combined teams. More people were emerging
from the town, bolstering their numbers. Antibodies responding to an
incursive virus, Luca thought. And they were right to do so. People here
were made to wear their hearts on their sleeves, visible to everyone
else. It saved a lot of bullshitting around. Plain for all to see, those
coming down the track were set on just one thing.

The train let out a long annoyed whistle, sending a fountain of steam
rocketing up into the sky. Metallic screeches and janglings came pouring
out of the engine when its riders realized how committed the townie
blockaders were. Its pistons pounded away, reversing the wheel spin.

Luca and Marcella stood their ground as it howled forwards. A
thought-smile flashed between them, and they stared down at the tracks,
concentrating. The rails just in front of their feet creaked once, then
split cleanly. Bolts holding them to the timber sleepers shot into the
air, and the rails started to curl up, rolling into huge spirals. Flame
spewed out of the trains wheels. The riders had to exert a lot of
energistic strength to halt its momentum. It stopped a couple of yards
short of the coils. Billows of angry steam jetted out of valves all along
the underside, water splattered down onto the tracks. A thick iron door
banged open on the side of the drivers cabin. Bruce Spanton jumped down.

He was dressed in anti-hero black leathers, impenetrable sunglasses
pressed tight against his face. Heavy boots crunched on the gravel
chippings of the embankment as he stalked towards the huddled townsfolk.
A holster with a gold-plated Uzi slapped his leg with every step.

Hello, Luca muttered, Somebody watched way too many bad cable movies
when they were younger.

Marcella subdued a grin as the ersatz Bad Guy halted in front of them.

You, Bruce Spanton growled. Youre in my way, friend. You must feel
lucky to try a move like that.

What do you boys want here? Luca asked wearily. The bad vibes emanating
from Spanton and the others in the train werent entirely forged. Not
everyone on Norfolk had calmed down after returning from the beyond.

Me and the guys, just passing through, Spanton said challengingly. No
law against that, here, is there?

No law, but plenty of wishes, Luca said. This county doesnt want you.
Im sure youll respect that majority opinion.

Tough shit. You got us. What you gonna do, call the cops?

A big silver Western sheriffs badge mushroomed on the front of
Marcellas tunic. I am the police in Colsterworth.

Listen, Bruce Spanton said. Were just here to check out the town.
Have us a bit of fun. Stock up on some food, grab some Norfolk Tears.
Then tomorrow well be gone. We dont want no trouble; its not as if we
want to stay here. Crappy dump like this, not our scene. Know what I
mean?

And how are you going to pay for your food? Marcella asked. Luca did
his best not to turn and frown at her.

Pay for it? Spanton yelled in astonishment. What the fuck are you
scoring, sister? We dont pay for anything any more. That got left behind
along with all the rest of the lawyers and shit we had to put up with
back there.

It doesnt work like that, Luca said. Its our food. Not yours.

Its not yours, shithead. It belongs to everyone.

Weve got it. You dont. Its ours. That simple enough for you?

Fuck you. Weve got to eat. Weve got a right to eat.

I remember you now, Luca said. You were one of Dexters people. Real
devout arse licker. Do you miss him?

Bruce Spanton stabbed a finger at Luca. Im going to remember you,
shithead. And youre going to wish I fucking hadnt.

Learn the rules when you go abroad, Luca said forcefully. And then
live by them. Now either you climb back on your pathetic little cartoon
mean machine and leave. Or, you stay and find yourself a useful job, and
earn a living like everybody else. Because were not in the business of
supporting worthless parasite scum like you.

Get a jo . . . disbelief and rage made Bruce Spanton splutter to a
halt. What the hell is this?

For you, exactly that: Hell. Now get out of our county before we run you
out. Luca heard several cheers from behind him.

The sound made Bruce Spanton look up. He glanced round the crowd, sensing
their mood, the belligerence and resentment focusing on him. You fuckers
are crazy. You know that? Crazy! Weve just escaped from all this shit.
And youre trying to bring it back.

All were doing is building ourselves a life as best we can, Luca said.
Join in, or fuck off.

Oh well be back, Bruce Spanton said, tight lipped. Youll see. And
people will join us, not you. Know why? Because its easier. He stomped
off back to the train.

Marcella grinned at his back. We won. We showed the bastards, eh? Not
such a bad combination, you and me. We wont be seeing them again.

This is a small island on a small planet, Luca said, more troubled than
he wanted to be by Spantons parting shot.


Chapter 03
==========


Sinons serjeant body had been divested of its last medical package just
five hours before the Catalpa flew out of its wormhole terminus above
Ombey. The voidhawks crew toroid was overcrowded, carrying thirty-five
of the hulking serjeants and their five-strong biomedical supervisory
team in addition to the usual crew. Heavy dull-rust coloured bodies stood
almost shoulder to shoulder as they performed lumbering callisthenics all
around the central corridor, discovering for themselves the parameters of
their new physiques.

There was no fatigue in the fashion of a genuinely human body, the
tiredness and tingling aches. Instead blood sugar depletion and muscle
tissue stress registered as mental warning tones within the neural array
housing the controlling personality. Sinon thought they must be similar
to a neural nanonic display, but grey and characterless rather than the
full-spectrum iconographic programs which Adamists enjoyed. Interpreting
them was simple enough, thankfully.

He was actually quite satisfied with the body he now possessed (even
though it was unable to smile at that particular irony for him). The deep
scars of the serjeants assembly surgery were almost healed. What minimal
restriction they imposed on his movements would be gone within a few more
days. Even his sensorium was up to the standard of an Edenist body.
Michael Saldana certainly hadnt skimped on the design of the bitek
constructs genetic sequence.

Acclimatisation to his new circumstances had twinned a growing confidence
throughout the flight. A psychological boost similar to a patient
recovering from his injuries as more and more of the medical packages
became redundant. In this case shared with all the other serjeant
personalities who were going through identical emotional uplifts, the
general affinity band merging their emerging gratification into
synergistic optimism.

Despite a total lack of hormonal glands, Sinon was hot for the
Mortonridge Liberation campaign to begin. He asked the Catalpa to share
the view provided by its sensor blisters as the wormhole terminus closed
behind them. The external image surged into his mind; featuring Ombey as
a silver and blue crescent a hundred and twenty thousand kilometres
ahead. Several settled asteroids swung along high orbits, grubby brown
specks muffled by a fluctuating swirl of silver stardust as their
industrial stations deflected spears of raw sunlight. Larger, more
regular motes of light swarmed around Catalpa, its cousins emerging from
their termini and accelerating in towards the planet.

This particular squadron was comprised of just over three hundred of the
bitek starships. It wasnt even the first to arrive at the Kingdom
principality today. The Royal Navys strategic defence centre on Guyana
had combined its flight management operations and sensors with civil
traffic control to guide the torrent of arriving starships into parking
orbits.

The voidhawks headed down towards the planet, merging into a long line as
they spiralled into alignment over the equator. They shared the five
hundred kilometre orbit with their cousins and Adamist starships from
every star system officially allied to the Kingdom. Military and civil
transports unloaded their cargo pods into fleets of flyers and
spaceplanes; Confederation Navy assault cruisers had brought an entire
battalion of marines, and even the voidhawks were eager to see the huge
Kulu Royal Navy Aquilae-class starships.

After reaching low orbit, the Catalpa had to wait a further eight hours
before its spaceplane received clearance to ferry the first batch of
serjeants down to Fort Forward. Sinon was on it as the night-shadowed
ocean fled past underneath the glowing fuselage. Their little craft had
aerobraked down to mach five when Xingus western coastline rose over the
horizon ahead. The red cloud was just visible to the sensors, a slice of
curving red light, as if the fissure between land and sky had been
rendered in gleaming neon. Then their altitude dropped, and it sank away.

<< They must know were here, >>Choma said. << With ten thousand
spaceship flights hyperbooming across the ocean every day, theyll hear
us arriving if nothing else. >>In the Twenty-fifth Century, Choma had
been an astroengineering export manager based at Jupiter. Although hed
readily admitted to the other serjeant personalities that his personal
knowledge-base of obsolete deep space startracker sensors was not very
relevant to the Liberation, his main interest was strategy games,
combined with the odd bit of role-playing. For himself and his fellow
quirky enthusiasts, the kind of simulation arenas available to Edenists
through perceptual reality environments were anathema. They wanted
authentic mud, forests, rock faces, redoubts, heavy backpacks, heat,
costumes, horse riding, marches, aching joints, flagons of ale, making
love in the long grass, and songs around the campsite. To the amusement
of the other inhabitants, they would take over vast tracts of habitat
parkland for their contests; it was quite a faddish activity at the time.
All of which made Choma the closest thing Sinons squad had to an
experienced soldier.

A lot of the old strategy game players had come out of the multiplicity
to animate serjeant bodies. Slightly surprisingly, very few
ex-intelligence agency operatives had joined them, the people whose
genuine field operations experience would really have been valuable.

<< Very likely, >>Sinon agreed. << Dariat demonstrated his perceptive
ability to the Kohistan Consensus; no doubt the combined faculty of the
Mortonridge possessed will provide them with some foreknowledge. >>

<< That and the ring of starships overhead. The convoys arent exactly
unobtrusive. >>

<< But they are obscured by the red cloud. >>

<< Dont count on it. >>

<< Does that worry you? >>Sinon asked.

<< Not really. Surprise was never going to be our strategic high-ground.
Best we could hope for is the scale of the Liberation being a nasty shock
to Ekelund and her troops. >>

<< I wish I had experience of the combat situations we will be facing
rather than theoretical memories. >>

<< I expect that experience is going to be one thing youll be collecting
plenty of, in a very short timespan. >>

The Catalpas spaceplane landed at Fort Forwards new spaceport, racing
along one of the three prefabricated runways laid out in parallel.
Another was touching down forty-five seconds behind it; that managed to
spark a Judeo of concern in Sinons mind. Even with an AI in charge of
slotting the traffic together, margins were being stretched. Ion field
flyers were landing and launching vertically from pads on the other side
of the spaceports control tower at a much faster rate than the runways
could handle spaceplanes.

For the moment, the spaceports principal concern was to offload cargo
and send it on to Fort Forward. The hangars were frantically busy,
heavy-lift mechanoids and humans combining to keep the flow of pods
going; any delay here would have a knock on effect right back up to
orbit. Nearly all of the Liberations ground vehicles were assigned to
carry cargo. Passenger vehicles were still up in orbit.

Sinon and the others were given a static charge test by Royal Marines as
they got to the bottom of the spaceplanes stairs. That it was
perfunctory was understandable, but Sinon was satisfied to see they did
test everybody. As soon as they were cleared the spaceplane taxied away,
joining a queue of similar craft waiting to take off. Another one rolled
into place, extending its airstair. The Marine squad moved forward again.

An Edenist liaison officer they never even saw told them that they were
going to have to get to Fort Forward on foot. They were part of a long
line of serjeants and marines marching along a road of freshly unrolled
micro-mesh composite next to the new six-lane motorway. After they got
underway, Sinon realized that it wasnt only Confederation Marines who
made up the human contingent of the Liberations ground forces. He walked
over to a boosted mercenary taller than himself. The mercenarys brown
skin had exactly the same texture as leather, long buttress ropes of
muscle were clumped round the neck, supporting a nearly-globular skull
armoured with silicolithium like an all-over helmet. In place of a nose
and mouth, there was an oval cage grill at the front, and the saucer eyes
were set very wide apart, giving little overlap, normal apart from the
blue-green irises, which appeared to be multifaceted.

When Sinon asked, she said her name was Elana Duncan. Excuse me for
inquiring, he said. But what exactly are you doing here?

Im a volunteer, Elana Duncan replied with an overtly feminine voice.
Were part of the occupation force. You guys take the ground from those
bastards, well hold on to it for you. Thats the plan. Listen up, I know
you Edenists dont approve of my kind. But there arent enough marines to
secure the whole of Mortonridge, so youve got to use us. That, and I had
some friends on Lalonde.

I dont disapprove. If anything Im rather glad theres someone here who
has actually been under fire before. I wish I had.

Yeah? Now, see, thats what I dont get. Youre cannon fodder, and you
know youre cannon fodder. But it doesnt bother you. Me, I know Im
taking a gamble, thats a life-choice I made a long time ago.

It doesnt bother me, because Im not human, just a very sophisticated
bitek automaton. I dont have a brain, just a collection of processors.

But you got a personality, dontcha?

This is only an edited copy of me.

Ha. You must be very confident about that. A life is a life, after all.
She broke off, and tipped her head back, neck muscles flexing like heavy
deltoids. Now theres a sight which makes all this worthwhile. You cant
beat those old warships for blunt spectacle.

A CK500-090 Thunderbird spaceplane was coming in to land. The giant
delta-wing craft was at least twice the size of any of the civil cargo
spaceplanes using the runways. Air thundered turbulently in its wake as
it slipped round to line up on its approach path, large sections of the
trailing edges bending with slow agility to alter the wing camber. Then a
bewildering number of hatches were sliding open all across its fuselage
belly; twelve sets of undercarriage bogies dropped down. The Thunderbird
hit the runway with a roar louder than a sonic boom. Chemical rockets in
the nose fired to slow it, dirty ablation smoke was pouring out of all
ninety-six brake drums.

God damn, Elana Duncan murmured. I never thought Id ever see an
operation like this, never mind be a part of it. A real live land army on
the move. Im centuries after my time, you know, I belong back in the
Nineteen and Twentieth Centuries, marching on Moscow with Napoleon, or
struggling across Spain. I was born for war, Sinon.

Thats stupid. You know you have a soul now. You shouldnt be risking it
like this. You have invented a crusade for yourself to follow rather than
achieve anything as an individual. That is wrong.

Its my soul, and in a way Im no different to Edenists.

Sinon felt a rush of real surprise. How so?

Im perfectly adjusted to what I am. The fact that my goals are
different to those of your society doesnt matter. You know what I think?
Edenists dont get caught in the beyond because youre cool enough under
pressure to figure your way out. Well, me too, pal. Laton said there was
a way out. I believe him. The Kiint found it. Just knowing that its
possible is my ticket to exit. Ill be happy searching because I know
its not pointless, I wont suffer like those dumbasses that wound up
trapped. Theyre losers, they gave up. Not me. Thats why Im signed up
on this mad Liberation idea, its just part of getting ready for the big
battle. Good training, is all.

She gave his shoulder an avuncular pat with a hand whose fingers had been
replaced by three big claws, and marched off.

<< Thats an excess of fatalism, >>Choma remarked. << What a strange
psychology. >>

<< She is content, >>Sinon answered. << I wish her well in that. >>



A large quantity of love had been invested in constructing the farmhouse.
Even the Kulu aristocracy with their expensive showy buildings employed
modern materials in their fabric. And Mortonridge was a designated rapid
growth area, with government subsidies to help develop the farms. A
resolutely middle-class province. Their buildings were substantial, but
cheap: assembled from combinations of carbon concrete, uniform-strength
pulpwood planks, bricks made from grains of clay cemented by geneered
bacteria, spongesteel structural girders, bonded silicon glass. For all
their standardisation, such basic components afforded a wealth of
diversity to architects.

But this was unmistakable and original. Beautifully crude. A house of
stone, quarried with an industrial fission blade from a local outcrop;
large cubes making the walls thick enough to repel the equatorial heat
and keep the rooms cool without air conditioning. The floor and roof
beams were harandrid timbers, sturdy lengths dovetailed and pegged
together as only a master carpenter could manage. Inside, theyd been
left uncovered, the gaps between filled with reed and plaster, then
whitewashed. It was as historic as any of the illusions favoured by the
possessed, not that anyone could mistake something so solid for an
ephemeral aspiration.

There was a barn attached at the end, also stone, forming one side of the
farmyard. Its big wooden doors were swinging open in the breeze the day
the Karmic Crusader pulled up outside. Stephanie Ash had been tired and
fed up by the time they pulled off the main road and drove along the
unmarked dirt track. Investigating it had been Moyos idea.

The road must lead somewhere, he insisted. This land was settled
recently. Nothings had time to fall into disuse yet.

She hadnt bothered to argue with him. Theyd driven a long way down the
M6 after handing the children over, a journey which meant having to pass
back through Annette Ekelunds army. This time theyd been pointedly
ignored by the troops billeted in Chainbridge. After that theyd
zigzagged from coast to coast looking for a refuge, somewhere
self-sufficient where they could rest up and wait for the grand events
beyond Mortonridge to play themselves out. But the towns in the northern
section of the peninsula were still occupied, though there was a steady
drift out to farms. They were unwelcome there; the possessed were
learning to guard their food stocks. Every unoccupied farm theyd visited
had been ransacked for food and livestock. It was a monotonous trend, and
finding a functional power supply to recharge the Karmic Crusader was
becoming more difficult.

After the joy and accomplishment of evacuating the children, the comedown
to excluded refugee status was hard. Stephanie hadnt exactly lost faith,
but the narrow road was no different to any of the dozens theyd driven
down the last few days. Hope rebutted unfailingly each time.

The road took the bus through a small forest of aboriginal trees, then
dipped into a shallow, lightly-wooded valley which meandered
extravagantly. A stream bubbled along the lush grassy floor, its speed
revealing they were actually travelling up at quite an angle. After four
kilometres, the valley ended by opening out into a nearly circular basin.
It was so regular, Stephanie suspected it was an ancient impact crater. A
lacework of silver brooks threaded their way down the sides, feeding a
lake at the centre, which was the origin of the valleys stream. The
farmhouse stood above the shore, separated from the rippling water by a
neatly trimmed lawn. Behind it, someone had converted the north-facing
walls of the basin into stepped terraces, making a perfect sun-trap. The
levels were cultivated with dozens of terrestrial fruit and vegetable
plants; from citrus tree groves to lettuce, avocados to rhubarb. Almost
all the aboriginal vegetation had been removed; even the south side
looked as if it was covered in terrestrial grass. Goats and sheep were
wandering around grazing peacefully.

They all piled out of the Karmic Crusader, smiling like entranced
children.

Theres nobody here, Rana said. Can you sense it? This whole place is
empty.

Oh goodness, Tina exclaimed nervously. She took the last step off the
buss stairs, her scarlet stilettos sinking awkwardly into the roads
loose-packed gravel surface. Do you really think so? This is simply
paradise. Its just what we all deserve after everything weve done for
others. I couldnt bear us being thrown out by someone else claiming they
were here first. It would be excruciating.

There are no vehicles left, McPhee grunted. The owners probably
received the Kingdoms warning and cleared out before Ekelunds people
arrived in these parts.

Lucky for them, Rana said.

More so for us, Moyo said. Its absolutely bloody perfect.

I think the irrigation system is screwed, McPhee said. He was shielding
his eyes with a hand as he squinted up at the terraces. There, see?
There must be channels to divert the brooks so that each level receives a
decent supply. But its spilling over like a waterfall. The plants will
drown.

No they wont, Franklin Quigly said. Its not broken. The powers off,
and theres no one here to manage it. Thats all. We could get it fixed
inside of a day. Thats if were staying.

They all turned to look at Stephanie. She was amused rather than
gratified by the compliment. Oh I think so. She smiled at her ragged
little band. Were not going to find anywhere better.

They spent the rest of the day wandering round the farmhouse and the
terraces. The basin was an intensive-cultivation market garden; there
were no cereal crops on any of the terraces. There were signs of a
hurried departure all through the building, drawers pulled out, clothes
spilled on the shiny floorboards, a tap left running, two old suitcases
abandoned half-packed in one of the bedrooms. But there was a lot of
basic foodstuffs left in the pantry, flour, jams, jellied fruit, eggs,
whole cheeses; a big freezer was filled with fish and joints of meat.
Whoever the farm belonged to, they didnt believe in modern sachets and
readymade meals.

Tina took one look inside the kitchen with its simple array of shining
copper pots and pans, and sniffed with emphatic disapproval. You can
take the worship of all things rustic too far, you know.

Its appropriate to what we are now, Stephanie told her. The consumer
convenience society cannot exist in our universe.

Well just dont expect me to give up silk stockings, darling.

Moyo, Rana, and McPhee scrambled up to the top of the basin to a small
building they assumed was a pumphouse for the irrigation system.
Stephanie and the rest started clearing out the farmhouse. By the third
day, theyd got the terrace irrigation equipment working again. Not
perfectly, their presence still glitched some of the management
processors; but there was a manual back-up control panel in the
pumphouse. Even the clouds gloomy claret illumination had grudgingly
brightened as they established themselves and began exterting their
influence. It wasnt the pure sunlight which shone upon towns and larger
groups of possessed, but the plants gleefully absorbed the increased rain
of photons, and perked up accordingly.

A week later Stephanie had every right to be content as she walked out
into the relatively cool air of early morning. The right, but not the
reality. She opened the iron-framed French doors which led out to the
lawn, and stepped barefoot onto the dewy grass.

As usual the red clouds tossed through the sky above, their massive
braids strumming the air until it groaned in protest. This time, though,
a subtler resonance was carried by the rancorous vapour. It couldnt be
heard, it merely preyed on the mind like a troublesome dream.

She walked down to the shore of the lake, her head turning slowly from
side to side as she scanned the sky, questing for some kind of hint.
Anything. The nettling sensation had been building for many days now.
Whatever the origin, it was too far away for her senses to distinguish,
skulking below the horizon like a malevolent moon.

So you like feel the cosmic blues sounding out, too? Cochrane said
ruefully.

Stephanie jumped, she hadnt noticed him approach. The bells on the
ancient hippys velvet flares were silent as he trod lightly over the
grass. An exceptionally large reefer hung from the corner of his mouth.
It smelt different than usual, not nearly as sweet.

He caught her puzzlement, and his beard parted to show a smug grin.
Fingers with many rings plucked the brown tube from his mouth, and held
it vertically. Guess what I found growing on some forgotten terrace?
This Mr Taxpaying Johnny Appleseed weve taken over from here wasnt
quite as straight as his fellow Rotarians believed. Know what this is?
Only like genuine nicotiana. And as illegal as hell around these parts.
Man but it feels good, first real drag Ive had in centuries.

Stephanie smiled indulgently as he stuck it back in his mouth. Indulgent
was all you could be with Cochrane. Moyo was coming out of the farmhouse,
his mind darkened with concern.

You know its here, too, dont you? she asked sadly. This must be what
Ekelund meant when she told me the Saldana Princess was preparing.

And Lieutenant Anver, Moyo muttered.

The earth can feel wars coming, that bloods going to be spilt. How
very . . . biblical; bad vibes in the aether. Id so hoped Ekelund was
wrong, that she was just trying to justify maintaining her army by
claiming phantom enemies were waiting on the other side of the hill.

No way, Cochrane said. The bad dude cavalrys like mounting up.
Theyll charge us soon, guns blazing.

Why us? Stephanie asked. Why this planet? We said we wouldnt threaten
them. We promised, and we kept it.

Moyo put his arm round her. Being here is a threat to them.

But its so stupid. I just want to be left alone, I want time to come to
terms with whats happened. Thats all. Weve got this beautiful farm,
and were making it work without hurting anybody. Its good here. We can
support ourselves, and have enough time left over to think. That doesnt
make us a threat or a danger to the Confederation. If we were allowed to
carry on we might be able to make some progress towards an answer for
this mess.

I wish we could be left alone, Moyo told her sadly. I wish theyd
listen to us. But they wont. I know what itll be like out there now.
Common sense and reason wont matter. Forcing us out of Mortonridge is a
political goal. Once the Saldanas and other Confederation leaders have
declared it, they wont be able to pull back. Were in the path of a
proverbial irresistible force.

Perhaps if I went back up to the firebreak and spoke to them. They know
me. They might listen.

Alarm at what she was saying made Moyo tighten his grip around her. No.
I dont want you doing anything crazy like that. Besides, they wouldnt
listen. Not them. Theyd smile politely for a while, then shove you into
zero-tau. I couldnt stand that, Ive only just found you.

She rested her head against him, quietly thankful for his devotion. Hed
been there for her since the very first day. More than a lover, a
constant source of strength.

You cant go, Cochrane said. Not you. These cats would like fall apart
without you to guide them. We need you here, man. Youre our den mother.

But we wont last long if we stay here, and the Princess sends her army
to find us.

A little more time is better than the big zippo. And who knows what our
karmas got mapped out for us before the jackboots kick our door down.

Youre not normally the optimist, Stephanie teased.

Face it babe, Im not normally alive. That kinda warps your outlook,
dig? You gotta have faith these days, man. Some cool happening will come
along to like blow our minds away.

Groovy, Moyo deadpanned.

All right, you win, Stephanie assured them. No noble sacrifices on my
part. Ill stay here.

Maybe theyll never come, Moyo said. Maybe Ekelund will defeat them.

Not a chance, Stephanie said. Shes good, and shes mean, which is
everything it takes. But shes not that good. Just stop and feel the
weight of them building up out there. Ekelund will cause them a whole
load of grief when the invasion starts, but she wont stop them.

What will you do then, when they reach the farm? Will you fight?

I dont think so. I might lash out, thats human nature. But fight? No.
What about you? You said you would, once.

That was back when I thought it might do some good. I suppose Ive grown
up since then.

But its still not fair, she complained bitterly. I adore this taste
of life. I think going back to the beyond will be worse now. Next time,
well know that it doesnt have to be permanent, even though it probably
will be. It would have been far better if wed been spared knowing. Why
is the universe persecuting us like this?

Its karma, man, Cochrane said. Bad karma.

I thought karma was paying for your actions. I never hurt anyone badly
enough for this.

Original sin, Moyo said. Nasty concept.

Youre wrong, she said. Both of you. If I know anything now, its that
our religions are lies. Horrid, dirty lies. I dont believe in God, or
destiny, not any more. There has to be a natural explanation for all
this, a cosmological reason. She sank into Moyos embrace, too tired
even for anger. But Im not smart enough to work it out. I dont think
any of us are. Were just going to have to wait until someone clever
finds it for us. Damn, I hate that. Why cant I be good at the big
things?

Moyo kissed her brow. There are forty kids on the other side of the
firebreak who are mighty glad you achieved what you did. I wouldnt call
that a small thing.

Cochrane blew a smoke ring in the direction of the oppressive presence
beyond the firebreak. Anyhow, nobodys served us an eviction order on
these bodies yet. The evil Kingdoms warlords have got to like catch us
first. Im going to make chasing after me tragically expensive to the
taxpayers. That always pisses them off bigtime.



<< We really should be doing this in a perceptual reality, >>Sinon
moaned. << I mean: actual physical training. Its barbaric. Im amazed
Ralph Hiltch hasnt assigned us a crusty old drill sergeant to knock us
into shape. Weve got the right scenario. >>

That morning, the serjeants had been driven out to a training ground ten
kilometres east of Fort Forward, a rugged stretch of land with clumps of
trees and mock-up buildings. It was one of twenty-five new training
zones, their basic facilities thrown up as quickly as Fort Forward
itself. Royal Marine engineers were busy constructing another ten.

Choma half-ignored Sinons diatribe, concentrating on the bungalow in
front of them. The rest of the squad were spread out round the
dilapidated building in a semicircle, learning to cling to whatever cover
was available. Stupid really, he thought, considering the possessed can
sense us from hundreds of metres. But it added to the feeling of
authenticity. The point which Sinon was missing.

Suddenly, one of the small bushes fifty metres away shimmered silver, and
metamorphosed into a green-skinned hominoid with bug-eyes. Balls of white
light shot away from his pointing hand. The two serjeants swivelled
smoothly, lining their machine guns up on the apparition.

<< Ours, >>they told the rest of the squad. Sinon squeezed the trigger
down with his right index finger, while his left hand twisted the guns
side grip, selecting the fire rate. The small chemical projectile cases
reverberated loudly as they fired, smothering all other sounds. Ripples
of static shivered over the end of the barrel as the pellets hammered
into their target.

The static gun was the weapon which the Kingdom had developed to arm the
serjeants for the Liberation. A simple enough derivative of an ordinary
machine gun, the principal modification was to the bullet. Inert kinetic
tips had been replaced by spherical pellets which carried a static
charge. Their shape reduced their velocity from ordinary bullets (and
their accuracy), though they could still inflict a lethal amount of
damage on a human target, while their electrical discharge played havoc
with the energistic ability of a possessed. Every pellet carried the same
level of charge, but the variable rate of fire would allow the serjeants
to cope with the different strengths of the individual possessed they
encountered; and as the guns mechanism was mechanical, the possessed
couldnt glitch itin theory.

It took three seconds of concentrated fire on the green monster before it
stopped flinging white light back at Sinon and Choma. The image collapsed
into an ordinary human male, who pitched forward. A holographic projector
lens glinted in the bush behind it.

<< You were too slow to respond to the targets strength, >>their
supervisor told them, << in a genuine combat situation his white fire
would have disabled the pair of you. And, Sinon . . . >>

<< Yes? >>

<< Work on improving your aim, that entire first burst you fired was
wide. >>

<< Acknowledged, >>Sinon informed the supervisor curtly. He adopted
singular engagement mode to talk to Choma. << Wide shooting, indeed! I
was simply bringing the gun round onto the target. Approaching fire can
be a large psychological inhibitor. >>

<< Certainly can, >>Choma replied with strict neutrality. He was scanning
the land ahead, alert for new dangers. It would be just like the training
ground controllers to hit them immediately again.

<< I think I am beginning to comprehend the guns parameters, >>Sinon
declared. << My thought routines are assimilating its handling
characteristics at an autonomic level. >>

Choma risked a mildly exasperated glance at his squad mate. << Thats the
whole point of this training. We can hardly accept a tutorial thought
routine from a habitat, now can we? The Consensus didnt even know about
static guns when we left Saturn. Besides, I always said the best lessons
are the ones you learn the hard way. >>

<< You and your atavistic Olympiad philosophy. No wonder it fell out of
fashion by the time I was born. >>

<< But youre getting the hang of it, arent you? >>

<< I suppose so. >>

<< Good. Now come on, wed better advance to the building or well wind
up on latrine duty. >>

At least the serjeants lips and throat allowed Sinon to sigh
plaintively. << Very well. >>



Princess Kirsten had switched her retinal implants to full resolution so
that she could watch the squads advancing over various sections of the
training ground. There was a old saying running loose in her mind, as if
one file was continually leaking from a memory cell: I dont know about
the enemy, but by God they frighten me. This was the first time shed
ever encountered the big bitek constructs outside of a sensevise. Their
size and mien combined to make them both impressive and imposing; she was
now rather glad Ralph Hiltch had the courage to suggest using them. At
the time shed been only too happy deferring the final choice to Allie.
The family does so lack the bravery to make really important decisions,
thank God he still has the guts. It was the same even when we were kids,
we all waited for his pronouncement.

Several hundred of the dark figures were currently crawling, slithering,
and in some cases running through the undergrowth, bushes, and long grass
while colourful holographic images popped into existence to waylay them.
The sound of gunfire rattled through the air; it was a noise she was
becoming very familiar with.

Theyre making good progress, Ralph Hiltch said. He was standing beside
the Princess on the roof of the training grounds management centre,
which gave them an uninterrupted view over the rumpled section of land
which the Liberation army had annexed. Their respective entourages were
arranged behind them, officers and cabinet ministers forming an edgy
phalanx. It only takes two sessions on average to train up a serjeant.
The support troops need a little longer. Dont get me wrong, those
marines are excellent troops; I dont just mean the Kingdoms, our allies
have sent their best, and the mercs are formidable at the best of times.
Its just that theyre all way too reliant on their neural nanonic
programs for fire control and tactics, so we really discourage their
usage. If a possessed does break through the front line, thats the first
piece of equipment thats going to glitch.

How many serjeants are ready? Kirsten asked.

About two hundred and eighty thousand. Were training them up at the
rate of thirty thousand a day. And theres another five training grounds
opening each day. Id like the rate increased, but even with the
Confederation Navy brigades, Ive only got a limited number of
engineering corps; I have to balance their assignments. Completing the
accommodation sections of Fort Forward is my priority.

It would appear as though you have everything under control.

Simple enough, we just tell the AI what we want, and it designates for
us. This is the first time in history a land army commander doesnt have
to worry unduly about logistics.

Providing a possessed doesnt get near the AI.

Unlikely, maam; believe me, unlikely. And even thats in our
contingency file.

Good, Id hate us to become overconfident. So when do you think youll
be able to begin the Liberation?

Ideally, Id like to wait another three weeks. He acknowledged the
Princesss raised eyebrow with a grudging smile. Theyd spent the best
part of two hours that morning under the gaze of rover reporters,
inspecting the tremendous flow of materiel and personnel surging through
Fort Forwards spaceport. To most people it looked as if they already had
the military resources to invade a couple of planets. Our greatest
stretch is going to be the opening assault. We have to ring the entire
peninsula, and its got to be one very solid noose, we cant risk
anything less. Thatll have to be achieved with inexperienced troops and
untested equipment. The more time spent preparing, the greater chance we
have for success.

Im aware of that, Ralph. But you were talking about balance a moment
ago. She glanced back at Leonard DeVille, who responded with a reluctant
twitch. Expectations are running rather high, and not just here on
Ombey. Weve demanded and received a colossal amount of support from our
political allies and the Confederation Navy. I dont need to remind you
what the King said.

No maam. His last meeting with Alastair II, the time when hed
received his commission needed no file. The King had been adamant about
the factors at play, the cost of external support, and the public weight
of anticipation and belief.

Success. That was what everyone wanted, and expected him to deliver, on
many fronts. And I have to give them that. This was all my idea. And my
fault.

Unlike the Princess, Ralph didnt have the luxury of glancing round his
people for signs of support. He could well imagine Janne Palmers
opinionshed be right too.

We can begin preliminary deployment in another three days, he said.
That way well be able to start the actual Liberation in eight days
time.

All right, Ralph. You have another eight days grace. No more.

Yes maam. Thank you.

Have you actually managed to test one of the static guns on a possessed
yet?

Im afraid not, maam, no.

Isnt that taking a bit of a chance? Surely you need to know their
effectiveness, if any?

Theyll either work, or not; and we dont want to give Ekelunds people
any advance warning just in case they can devise a counter. Well know if
theyre any use within seconds of our first encounter. If they dont,
then the ground troops will revert to ordinary light arms. I just hope to
God they dont have to, well inflict a hell of a lot of damage on the
bodies were trying to recover. But the theorys perfect, and the
machinerys all so beautifully simple as well. Cathal and Dean dreamed up
the concept. It should have been obvious from the start. I should have
come up with it.

I think youve worked enough miracles, Ralph. All the family wants from
you now is a mundane little victory.

He nodded his thanks, and stared out over the training ground again. It
was changeover time, hundreds of grubby-red serjeants were on the move,
along with a good number of ordinary troops. Though ordinary was a
relative term when referring to the boosted mercenaries.

One question, Leonard DeVille said; he sounded apologetic, if not
terribly sincere about it. I know this isnt quite what you want to hear
right now, Ralph. But you have allocated room for the rover reporters to
observe the action during the assault, havent you? The AI does know
thats a requirement?

Ralph grinned. This time he gave Palmer a direct look before locking eyes
with the Home Office Minister. The Princess was diplomatically focused on
the returning serjeants.

Oh yes. Were putting them right in the front line for you. Youll get
sensevises every bit as hot as the one Kelly Tirrel produced on Lalonde.
This is going to be one very public war.



Chainbridge was different now. When Annette Ekelund had first arrived
here, shed transformed it into a simple headquarters and garrison town.
Close enough to the firebreak to deploy her irregulars if the Kingdom
sent any of its threatened punishment squads over to snatch possessed.
Far enough away so that it was outside the range of any inquisitive
sensorsincidentally making it reasonably safe from SD fire. So shed
gathered her followers to her, and allowed them their illusion of
freedom. A genuine rabble army, with a licence to carouse and cavort for
ninety per cent of the time, with just a few of her orders to follow the
morning after. Something to do, something vaguely exciting and
heroic-seeming, gave them a sense of identity and purpose. For that, they
stayed together.

It made them into a unit for her, however unwieldy and unreliable. That
was when Chainbridge resembled a provincial town under occupation by
foreign troops with unlimited expense accounts. Not a bad analogy. There
were parties and dances every evening, and other people began to hang
around, if for no other reason than the army made damn sure they had full
access to Mortonridges dwindling food supplies. It was a happy town kept
in good order, Annette even established the hub of Mortonridges
downgraded communication net in the old town hall, which was commandeered
as her command post. The net allowed her to retain a certain degree of
control over the peninsula, keeping her in touch with the councils shed
left in charge of the towns her forces had taken over. There wasnt much
she could do to enforce her rule, short of complete overkill and send in
a brigade of her troops, but in the main shed created a small society
which worked. That was before any of the inhabitants really believed that
the Kingdom would break its word and invade with the express intention of
ripping body from usurping soul.

Now Chainbridges parties had ended. The few inhabited buildings had lost
their ornate appearance in favour of a bleakly oppressive, fortress-like
solidity. Non-combatants, the good-timers and hangers on, had left,
drifting away into the countryside. The town was preparing for war.

From her office window in the town hall, she could look down on the large
cobbled square below. The fountains were off, their basins dry and duned
by clumps of litter. Vehicles were parked in neat ranks under the rows of
leghorn trees that circled the outer edge of the square. They were mostly
manual-drive cars and four-wheel drive farm rovers, as per her
instructions. None of them wore any kind of illusory image. Engineers
were working on several of them, readying them for the coming ordeal.

Annette came back to the long table where her ten senior officers were
sitting. Delvan and Milne had taken the chairs on either side of hers;
the two people she relied on the most. Delvan claimed to have been an
officer in the First World War; while Milne had been an engineers mate
during Earths steamship era, which made him a wizard with all things
mechanical, though he freely admitted to knowing very little about
electronics. Beyond them, sat Soi Hon, who was a veteran of
early-Twenty-first Century bush wars, an ecological agitator, he called
himself. Annette gathered his battles hadnt been fought along national
lines, but rather corporate ones. Whatever he wanted to describe himself
as, his tactical know-how in the situation they faced was invaluable. The
rest of them were just divisional commanders, gaining the loyalty of
their troops through personality or reputation. Just how much loyalty,
was a moot point.

What are todays figures? Annette asked.

Nearly forty deserted last night, Delvan said. Little shits. In my day
they would have been shot for that kind of cowardice.

Fortunately, were not in your day, Soi Hon said. When I fought the
desecrators who stole my land I had legions of the people who did what
they had to because our cause was just. We needed no military police and
prisons to enforce the orders of our commanders then, nor do we here. If
in their hearts people do not want to fight, then forcing them will not
make them good soldiers.

God is on the side of the big battalions, Delvan sneered. Owning your
claptrap nobility doesnt guarantee victory.

We are not going to win. Soi Hon smiled peacefully. You do understand
that, dont you?

Well have a damn good try, and to hell with your defeatist talk. Im
surprised you didnt leave with the rest of them.

I think thatll do, Annette said. Delvan, you know Soi Hon is right,
youve felt what the Kingdom is gathering to fling against us. The King
would never commit his forces against us unless he was convinced of the
outcome. And he has the backing of the Edenists, who even more than he,
wont engage in a foolhardy venture. This is a showpiece war; they intend
to demonstrate to the Confederations general public that we are
beatable. They cannot afford to lose, no matter what it costs them.

So what the hell do you want us to do, then? Delvan asked.

Make that cost exorbitant, Soi Hon said. Such people always assign a
value to everything in monetary terms. We might not be able to defeat
them on Mortonridge, but we can certainly prevent any further Liberation
campaigns after this one.

Their troops will have reporters with them, Annette said. Theyll want
to showcase their triumphs. This war will be fought on two fronts, the
physical one here, and the emotional one broadcast by the media across
the Confederation. That is the important one, the one we have to win.
Those reporters must be shown the terrifying price of opposing us. I
believe Milne has been making some preparations.

Not doing so bad on that front, lass, Milne said. He sucked on a big
clay pipe for emphasis, every inch the solid reliable NCO. Ive been
training up a few lads, teaching them tricks of trade, like. We cant use
electrical circuits, of course, not our type. So weve gone back to
basics. Ive come up with a nice little mix of chemicals for an
explosive; were shoving it into booby traps as fast as we can make em.

What kind of booby traps? Delvan asked.

Anti-personnel mines, ground vehicle snares, primed buildings, spiked
pits; that kind of thing. Sois been showing us what he used to rig up
when he was fighting. Right tricky stuff, it is, too. All with mechanical
triggers, so their sensors wont pick them up, even if they can get them
working under the red cloud. Id say were due to give Hiltchs boys a
load of grief once they cross the firebreak. Weve also rigged bridges to
blow, as well as the major junction flyovers along the M6. That ought to
slow the buggers down.

All very good, Delvan said. But with respect, I dont think a few
scraps of rubble will make much difference to their transport. I remember
the tanks we used to have, great big brutes, they were. But by heaven
they could crunch across almost every surface; and the engineers have had
seven centuries to improve on that.

Ruining the road junctions might not make a huge impact, but it will
certainly have some effect, Soi Hon said impassively. We know how large
this Liberation army is, even in these times that makes it unwieldy. They
will use the M6, if not for front line troops, then certainly for their
supplies and auxiliaries. If we delay them even by an hour a day, we add
to the cost. Slowing them down will also give us time to respond and
retaliate. It is a good tactic.

Okay, Im not arguing with you. But these booby traps and blown bridges
are a passive response. Come on man, whatve you got thatll allow us to
attack them?

My lads have found quite a few light engineering factories and the like
in Chainbridge, Milne said. The machine tools still work if you switch
em to manual. Right now, Ive got em churning out parts for a high
velocity hunting rifle. I dont know what the hell that sparky machine
gun is that the souls have seen Hiltchs boys practising with. But I
reckon my rifles got an easy twice the range of em.

Theyll be wearing armour, Delvan warned.

Aye, I know that. But Sois told me about kinetic enhanced impact
bullets. Our armourers are doing their best to produce them, youll have
a decent stock in another few days. Well be able to inflict a lot of
damage with them, you see if we dont.

Thanks, Milne, Annette said. Youve done a great job, considering what
youve had to work with, and what were facing.

Milne cocked his pipe at her. Well put up a good account of ourselves,
lass, no worries.

Im sure. She gazed round at the rest of her commanders. There was a
good range of emotions distributed among them, from clear nerves to
stupid over-confidence. Now we know roughly what our own capabilities
are, we need to start working out how were going to deploy. Delvan,
youre probably the best strategist we have . . .

Butt-headed traditionalist, Soi Hon muttered sotto voce.

Annette raised a warning eyebrow and the old guerrilla made a
conciliatory shrug. What is Hiltch likely to do? she asked.

Two things, Delvan said, ignoring Soi. Firstly, their initial assault
is going to be a lulu. Hell throw everything hes got at us, on as many
fronts as he can afford to open. Well be facing massive troop
incursions, this wretched space warship bombardment, aircraft carpet
bombing, artillery. The aim is to demoralise us right from the start,
make it quite clear from the scale of the Liberation that well lose,
drumming it home in a fashion we cant possibly ignore. Id recommend
that we actually pull back a little way from the borders of the
peninsula; dont give him an easy target. Leave it to Milnes booby traps
to snarl up his timetable, and stall any immediate visible success he
wants to lay on for the reporters.

Okay, I can cope with that. Whats his second likely objective?

His target missions. If hes got any sense, hell go for our population
centres first. Our power declines with our numbers, which will make his
mopping up operation a damn sight easier.

Population centres, Annette exclaimed in annoyance. What population
centres? People are deserting the towns in droves. The councils are
reporting were now down to less than half the numbers we had in urban
areas when we took over Mortonridge. Theyre like our deserters, heading
for the hills. Right now were spread over this land thinner than a
pigeons fart.

Its not the hills theyre after, Soi said, his soft tone a rebuke.
Its the farms. Which was only to be expected. You are well aware of the
food situation across the peninsula. Had your efforts been directed at
developing our civil infrastructure instead of our military base, it
would be a different story.

Is that a criticism?

His gentle laugh was infuriating, mockingly superior. A plea for
industrialisation, from me? Please! I regard the land and the people as
integral. Nature provides us with our true state. It is our towns and
cities with their machines and hunger, which have birthed the corruption
that has contaminated human society for millennia. The defence of people
who chose to live with the land is paramount.

Okay, thanks for the party manifesto. But it doesnt alter what I said.
We havent got that many population centres to lure Hiltchs forces into
ambush.

We will have. I suspect Delvan is correct when he says Hiltch will want
to open with a grand gesture. That should work in our favour. As always
when a land is invaded, its people pull together. Theyll see that as
individuals they can offer no resistance to the Liberation forces, and
theyll flee their isolation in search of group sanctuary. We will gather
ourselves together as a people again. Then the battle will be joined in
full.

Annettes growing smile was a physical demonstration of the satisfaction
spreading through her thoughts. Remember Stephanie Ash, what I told her
about having to decide whose side she was on? That self-righteous cow
just stood there smiling politely the whole time, knowing her world view
was the real thing and that Id come round to her way of thinking in the
end. Looks like Ill have the last laugh after alleven if it is only a
short one. Damn, Im going to enjoy that almost as much as I am bollixing
up my dear old friend Ralphs campaign.

You really think well be able to start recruiting into the regiments
again? Delvan asked Soi Hon.

Can you think of nothing but your own position and power? It is not the
regiments which will inflict the worst casualties, but the united people.
Group ten of us together, and the destructive potential of our energistic
power is an order of magnitude greater than any artillery the Liberation
forces can bring to bear.

Which is less than one per cent of the lowest powered maser on a
Strategic Defence platform, and thats before we get into the heavy duty
systems like their X-ray lasers, Annette said, tired of their bickering.
Its not our numbers which matter, but our ability to communicate and
organise. Thats what we have to safeguard until the last of us is shoved
into zero-tau.

I agree, Delvan said. The whole war is going to be an extremely fluid
situation from the start. Lightning strikes, hit the bastards and run,
are what we should be planning for.

Exactly, thats where I expect you two to combine for me. Your overall
strategy, Delvan, combined with Sois tactics. Its a lethal alliance,
the equivalent of the Kingdom and the Edenists.

An inspired comparison, Soi chuckled.

My pleasure. All right, lets start looking at the map, and see who
were going to send where.



It was Emmet Mordden, again, who was on duty in the operations centre
when the Organization fleet started to emerge above New California. The
hellhawks were first, their wormholes opening more or less in the
official emergence zone, a hundred thousand kilometres above Monterey.
That gave them some warning that the Adamist craft were en route. Emmet
quickly called in five more operatives to monitor their rag-tag arrival.
They certainly aimed for the emergence zone, but with possessed officers
on board aiming and hitting were increasingly separate concepts. Event
horizons started to inflate across a vast section of space around the
planet; the only thing regular about them was the timing. One every
twenty seconds.

The big flight trajectory holoscreens ringing the centre had to change
perspective several times, clicking down through their magnification to
encompass space right out to Requa, New Californias fourth moonlet.
Black icons started to erupt across the screen as if it was being struck
by dirty rain.

The AI began to absorb the swarm of information datavised in from the SD
sensor platforms, and started plotting the starships erratic
trajectories. Multiple vector lines sprang up on every console display.
The operators studied them urgently, opening communication circuits to
verify the ships were still under Organization control. Emmet got so
carried along by the pandemonium of the first few minutes it took a while
before he began to realize something was badly wrong with the whole
episode. Firstly, they were too early, Admiral Kolhammers task force
couldnt possibly have arrived at Tranquillity yet. Secondly, there were
too many ships. Even if the ambush had been a massive success, some ships
would have been lost. Of all Capones lieutenants, he had the most
pragmatic view of just how effective the fleet ships were.

Those two ugly facts were just beginning to register, when he sensed the
dismay bubbling up among Jull von Holgers thoughts, as the hellhawk
liaison man communicated with his colleagues.

What the hell is it? Emmet demanded. Why are they back here? Did they
lose, chicken out, or what?

Jull von Holger shook his head in bewilderment, most reluctant to be the
messenger of bad news. No. No, they didnt lose. Their target . . .
Tranquillity jumped away.

Emmet frowned at him.

Look, just call Luigi, okay. I dont understand it myself.

Emmet gave him a long dissatisfied look, then turned to his own console.
He ordered it to find the Salvatores transponder, and open a channel to
the flagship. Whats going on? he asked when a fuzzy picture of Luigi
Balsamo appeared in the corner of his display.

She tricked us, Luigi shouted angrily. That Saldana bitch ran away.
Christ knows how she managed it, but the whole thing vanished down a
wormhole. Nobody told us a habitat could do that. You never warned us,
did you? Youre supposed to be the Organizations technical whiz kid. Why
the fuck didnt you say something?

About what? What do you mean it went down a wormhole? What went down a
wormhole?

Why dont you listen, shitbrain? The habitat! The habitat vanished in
front of us!

Emmet stared at the image, refusing to believe what hed heard. Im
calling Al, he said eventually.



It was the first time Luigi had ever been intimidated by the big double
doors of the Nixon suite. There were a couple of soldiers on duty
outside, wearing their standard fawn-brown double-breasted suits, big
square-jawed guys with a dark rasp of stubble, glossy Thompson machine
guns held prominently. He could sense several people milling about
inside, their familiar thoughts dull and unhappy as they waited for him.
He thought of all the punishments and reprimands hed attended in his own
capacity as one of the Organizations elite lieutenants. The omens
werent good.

One of the soldiers opened the doors, a superior in-the-know grin on his
face. He didnt say anything, just made a mocking gesture of welcome.
Luigi resisted the urge to smash his face to pulp, and walked in.

What the fuck happened? Al bellowed.

Luigi glanced round at the semicircle of erstwhile friends as the doors
closed behind him. Patricia was there, as was Silvano, Jezzibella, Emmet,
Mickey, and that little bitch Kiera. All of them going with the tide that
was sweeping him away to drown.

We were given some very bad information. He looked pointedly at
Patricia. Perez sold us a dummy. And you bought it.

He didnt, she snapped. He possessed one of the First Admirals top
aids in Trafalgar. Kolhammer was heading straight for Tranquillity.

And we would have got him, too. If somebody had just warned me. I mean,
Jesus H Christ, an entire goddamn habitat flitting off. Do you have any
idea how big that thing was?

Who cares? Al said. The habitat wasnt your main target. You were
there to blow up Kolhammers ships.

The only way we could do that was if wed captured the habitat first,
Luigi said angrily. Dont try blaming all this on me. I did everything
you asked.

Who the fuck else am I going to blame? Al asked. You were there, it
was your responsibility.

Nobody has ever heard of a habitat that can do that before, Luigi
ground out. Nobody. He shoved an accusatory finger at Jezzibella.
Right?

For whatever reason, Jezzibella had assumed her impish adolescent girl
persona, red ribbons tying her hair into ponytails, a white blouse and
grey pleated skirt not really covering her body. She pouted, a gesture
which was almost obscenely provocative. It was an act which various
judges had been asked to ban when she performed it live on tour. Right.
But Im hardly an expert on energy patterning systems, now am I?

Christ almighty. Emmet? It was almost a plea.

It is unprecedented, Emmet said with some sympathy.

And you. Luigi glared at Kiera. You lived in a habitat. You knew all
about how they work, why didnt you tell us? The attack didnt quite
kick up the response he expected. A flash of icy anger twisted Kieras
thoughts, while Al simply sneered scornfully.

Valisk was not capable of performing a swallow manoeuvre, she said. As
far as we know, only Tranquillity has that ability. Certainly none of the
Edenist habitats can. I dont know about the other three independent
habitats.

Didnt stop Valisk from vanishing, though, did it, Al muttered snidely.

Silvano gave an over-loud laugh, while Jezzibella smiled demurely at
Kieras discomfort. Luigi looked from one to the other in puzzlement.
Okay, so are we agreed? It was a shitty situation, sure. But there was
nothing I could do about it. That Saldana girl took everyone by surprise.

You were the fleets commander, Al said. I gave you that job because I
thought you were smart, man, that you had some flare and imagination. A
guy with a few qualities, know what I mean? If all I want is some putz
who expects a slap on the back every time he does what hes told I would
have given the job to Bernhard Alsop. I expected more from you, Luigi, a
lot more.

Like what? I mean, come on here, tell me, Al, just what the hell would
you have done?

Stopped it from flying out. Dont you get it, Luigi? You were my man on
the ground. I was goddamn depending on you to bring the Organization
through this okay. Instead, Im left with shit all over my face. Once you
saw what was happening you should have zeroed the place.

Christ, why wont any of you listen? I was fucking trying to zero it,
Al. Thats what spooked Saldana; thats what made her scoot the hell out
of there. Id got nearly five thousand of those war rockets chasing after
her faster than a coyote with a hornet up its ass, and she got clean
away. There was nothing we could do. We were damn lucky to cut free
ourselves. The explosions from all those war rockets did some damage,
too, we were . . .

Wooha there, Al held up a hand. What explosions? You just said the
combat wasps never touched Tranquillity.

Yeah, but most of them detonated when they hit the wormhole entrance. I
dont understand none too well; the technical boys, they say its like a
solid barrier, but its made out of nothing. Beats me. Anyway, the first
ones started to go off, and . . . hell, you know how powerful antimatter
is, they set off the others. The whole lot went off like a string of
goddamn firecrackers.

All of them? Five thousand antimatter-powered combat wasps?

Thats right. Like I said, we were lucky to get out alive.

Sure you were. Als voice had dropped to a dangerous monotone. Youre
alive, and Im out one planet which we postponed invading, Im down a
Confederation Navy task force you were supposed to ambush, and Ive also
got to replace five thousand combat wasps fuelled up by the goddamn
rarest substance in the whole fucking universe. Jeez, Im real glad
youre back. Seeing you here smiling away in once piece makes me feel
absolutely fucking peachy. You piece of shit! Do you have any idea how
badly youve screwed up?

It wasnt my fault!

Oh absolutely. Youre right. No way are you to blame for this. And you
know what? I bet I know who it was. Yeah. Yeah, now I think about it, I
know. It was me. Thats right, me. Im to blame. Im the asshole here. I
made the biggest fucking mistake of my life when I put you in charge.

Yeah? Well I didnt hear you whining none when I came back from Arnstat.
Remember that day? I delivered a whole fucking planet on a fucking plate
for you, Al. You gave me the keys for the city back then. Parties, girls,
you even made Avvy track down a genuine copy of the Clark Gable Gone with
the Wind for me. Nothing. Nothing was too much trouble. I was loyal to
you, then, and Im loyal to you now. I dont deserve any of this. All you
lost was a few lousy rockets and some fancy fuel. I put my life on the
line for you, Al. And we all know how goddamn precious that is now, dont
we? Well, do you know what? I dont deserve to be treated like this. It
aint right.

Al scowled, looking round the other lieutenants. They all kept their
faces blank, of course, but their minds were boiling. Annoyance and doubt
were the predominant emotions. He guessed his own mind would show the
same. He was fucking furious with Luigi, it was the first defeat the
Organization had been dealt, the news boys would crow about it clear over
the Confederation. His image would take a terrible battering, and as Jez
always said: image was everything in the modern world. The aura of the
Organizations invincibility would be hit badly. Yet at the same time,
Luigi was right, he had done his best, right from the start when theyd
all walked into City Hall in the ballsiest escapade this side of the
Trojan horse.

By rights, I ought to fucking fry you, Luigi, Al said darkly. Weve
been set back weeks thanks to what happened at Tranquillity. Ive got to
find another planet to invade, Ive got to wait until weve built up a
decent new stock of antimatter, the reporters will hang me out to dry,
everyones confidence is busted. But Im not going to. And the only
reason Im not going to is because you came back here like a man. You
aint afraid to admit you made a mistake.

There was a new flash of anger in Luigis mind at that. Al waited, mildly
intrigued, but it was never voiced. He materialised a Havana, and took a
comfortable drag before saying: So Ill make you an offer. You can stay
with the Organization, but Im going to bust you right back down to the
bottom of the ladder again. Youre a private zero class, Luigi. I know
the other guysll go hard on you for a while, but you stay loyal, you
keep your nose clean, and you can work your way back up again. I cant be
no fairer than that.

Luigi gawped at Al, struggling with disbelief at what hed just heard
while a strangled choke growled up from his throat. His mind was
telegraphing the notion of outright rebellion. Al fixed him with the
look, all humour eradicated. You wont like the alternative.

All right, Al, Luigi said slowly. I can live with that. But Im
telling you, Ill be back in charge of the fleet inside of six months.

Al guffawed, and clapped Luigis arm. Thats my boy. I knew I made the
right decision with you. Luigi managed a brief smile, and turned to walk
out of the room. Al slumped his shoulders when the doors shut. Guess
thats one guy weve lost for good.

Jezzibella rubbed his arm in sympathy. You did the right thing, baby. It
was honourable. He did fuck up something chronic.

I wouldnt have been so generous, Kiera said. You shouldnt show so
much kindness. People will see it as a weakness.

Youre dealing with people, not mechanoids, Jezzibella said blankly.
You have to make allowances for the odd mistake. If you shoot every
waiter who spills a cup of coffee over your skirt, you wind up with a
self service bar.

Kiera smiled condescendingly at her. What youll actually wind up with
is a group of highly efficient waiters who can do the job effectively.

You mean, like the way your team handled things on Valisk?

All teams need an effective leader.

Al was tempted to let them go for itnothing like a good catfight. But
one bust-up among his senior lieutenants was enough for today. So
instead, he said: Speaking of which, Kiera, are the hellhawks going to
keep flying for me?

Of course they will, Al. Ive been busy setting up my new flight
coordination office in one of the docking ledge departure lounges. Close
to the action, as it were. Theyll do what I tell them to.

Uh huh. He didnt like the implications of that sweetly spoken
assurance any more than the unpleasant note of victory rippling through
her mind. And judging by the sudden suspicion colouring Jezs thoughts,
neither did she.



It was one of those absurd left right, left right sideways shuffles that
seemingly automatically occurs when two people try to get out of each
others way simultaneously which finally blew Beths temper. Shed come
out of the washroom at one end of the Mindoris life support module to
find Jed standing outside waiting to use it. He immediately dropped his
head so he didnt have to look at her and danced to one side. A move she
instinctively matched. They dodged about for a couple of seconds.

The next thing Jed knew was a hand grasping his collar, and hauling him
into the washroom. Bright mock sunbeams poured through the smoked-glass
portholes, producing large white ovals on the polished wood floor.
Archaic brass plumbing gleamed and sparkled all around the small
compartment. Jeds knee banged painfully on the rim of the enamel bath as
Beth smoothly slewed his weight round like some kind of ice skater act.
The door slammed shut, the lock snicked and he was shoved flat against
the wall. Listen ball-brain, she snarled, I was not shagging him.
Okay?

He risked a sneer, praying she wasnt still carrying the nervejam stick.
Yeah? So what were you doing in bed with him?

Sleeping. She saw the new expression of derision forming on his face,
and twisted his sweatshirt fabric just a fraction tighter. Sleeping,
she repeated forcefully. Jeeze, mate, the guys brain is totally zonked.
It took a time to get him quietened down, thats all. I dozed off. Big
deal. If you hadnt stormed out so bloody fast you would have seen I
still had all my clobber on.

Thats it?

What the hell do you expect? The pair of us were working our way through
a kama sutra recording? Is that what you think of me? That Im going to
leap into bed with the first geriatric I meet?

Jed knew his answer to that question was going to be critical, and
possibly close to fatal if he got it wrong. No, he insisted, willing
himself to believe it totally. Voice only would never be good enough. He
often suspected Beth had some kind of advanced telepathic ability. I
dont think that of you at all. Um . . . youve got more class that that.
I always said so.

Hummm. Her grip on his sweatshirt loosened slightly. You mean you were
always miffed I didnt let you shag me.

Thats not it! he protested.

Really?

Jed thought that jibe was best ignored in its entirety. What do you make
of this delay? he asked.

Bit odd. I dont understand why we didnt dock with Valisk before we
went on another rendezvous. I mean, we were already there in the Srinagar
system, least thats what I thought.

Yeah. I didnt see Valisk, though, just some gas giant. Then the ship
swallowed away again. I thought I was going to die. We were there.

Choi-Ho and Maxim said this new rendezvous was major-league important
when I asked them. They clammed up pretty smart when I asked them where
it was, though. You think thats important?

Course its important. Question is, why?

We might have to dodge some navy patrols to make the new rendezvous.
Thatll be risky.

So why not tell us?

Theres a lot of kids on board. Could be they dont want to worry them.

Makes sense.

But you dont reckon?

Dunno. Its funny, you know. We busted our balls to get a flight.
Everything we had got left behind, our families, friends, everything. But
I didnt have any doubts. Now were as good as there . . . I dont know,
its just such a big thing. Maybe Im a bit scared. What about you?

Beth gave him a careful look, unsure just how much she should reveal. He
really had invested a lot in the ideal of Valisk and all it promised.
Jed, I know Geralds a bit flaky, but he told me something.

A bit flaky.

Jed! He said Kiera is actually called Marie, that shes his daughter. He
reckons that Valisk is no different to any other place the possessed have
taken over.

Crap, he said angrily. Thats total crap. Look, Beth. We know Kiera is
a possessor, shes never hidden that. But shes only borrowing that
girls body. She said things like that wont matter after Valisk leaves
the universe. She can take on her own form again.

Yes, but, Jed . . . His daughter.

Just a weird coincidence, thats all. Mind, it explains why the old fart
is so crazy.

She nodded reluctantly. Maybe. But then again it wouldnt do any harm to
start thinking the unthinkable, would it?

He took hold of both her arms, just above the elbows. Well be all
right, he said intently. Youve accessed Kieras recording enough
times. You know shes telling us the truth. This is like wedding night
nerves.

She gave his hands a curious glance; normally she would have instantly
shaken free from such a grip. But this flight was not an ordinary time.
Yeah. Thanks, mate. She gave him a timid smile.

Jed returned an equally uncertain flutter. He started to slowly lean
forward, bringing his face down towards hers. Her lips parted slightly.
He closed his eyes. Then a finger was resting on his chin.

Not here, Beth said. Not in a dunny.



Beth actually let him hold her hand as they walked along the life support
modules central corridor. Somehow it didnt seem to matter so much now.
Back on Koblat it would have meant everyone knowing: Beth and Jed, Jed
and Beth. The boys would have smiled and whooped and given Jed the thumbs
up. Well done mate. Scored with an ice maiden, nice one. So what does
she look like with her kit off? Are they big tits? Is she any good at it?
Has she gone down on you yet? While the girls would have clustered round
her and asked if hed said he loved her. Does he devote enough time to
you? Are you going to apply for an apartment together?

It was a horrendous cycle spinning around her, a compendium of everything
she hated about Koblat. The loss of any purpose to life. Surrendering to
the company and signing on as another of its cheaply produced
multi-function biological tools. She knew several girls on her corridor
level who were grandmothers at twenty-eight.

Their weakness had given her the strength to strive for at least the hope
of something more, to resist almost intolerable peer pressure. Star of
her education stream, exceptionally receptive to each didactic memory she
received. Applying for every college scholarship and exchange programme
she could locate in the asteroids memory cores. Enduring the jeers and
whispers. But it had been hard hard hard. Then along came Kiera, who
offered a way out from all that awful pressure. A life that was different
and kind. And Beth had believed, because Kiera was the same sort of age,
and empowered, and taking control of her own destiny. And because . . .
it was easy. For the first time ever.

They stopped outside the cabin shed been sharing with Gerald, and Jed
kissed her before she could turn the handle. Not a very good kiss, he
almost missed her lips, and definitely no tongue like there was in all
the low-rated blue sensevise recordings shed accessed. His anxious
expression almost made her laugh, as if he was expecting her to deck him
one. Which, she admitted, she probably would have done three weeks ago if
hed come on fresh with her. She got the door open, and they stumbled
inside, not bothering with the lights. Jed kissed her again. A better
attempt, this time. When he finished, she asked: Will you think of her?

Who? he asked in confusion.

You know, her, Kiera. Will you think of her when youre doing it with
me?

No! Although there was enough of a quaver in his voice to reveal the
truth. To her, if no one else. She knew him well enough, growing up
together for ten years. It was almost too close.

He had becomenot obsessed, that wasnt strong enoughcaptivated by Kiera
and that exquisite beguiling beauty of hers. In dismay Beth knew it
wouldnt be her face he saw when he closed his eyes in ecstasy, not her
body he would feel below his fingers. For some reason, despite the
humiliation, she didnt really care. After all, she had her own reasons
for this. She twined a forearm behind his head, and pulled him down to
kiss her again. The lights came on. Beth gasped in surprise, and twisted
to look at the bunk, expecting to see Gerald there. It was empty, the
blankets rumpled.

There was a melodic chime from the dresser, and the small mirror above it
shimmered with colour. A mans face appeared on it; he was middle aged,
with a Mediterranean complexion and a long chin which pulled his lips
downwards, making him appear permanently unhappy.

Sorry to interrupt, he said. But I think youll find what I have to
say quite important.

Jed had stiffened the second he appeared, quickly pulling his hands away
from Beth. She tried not to show how annoyed she was by that; shed just
made the decisionwhat did he have to be guilty about?

Who are you? she asked.

Rocio Condra; I am the soul possessing this hellhawk.

Oh brother, she murmured. Jed managed to blush even deeper.

I was listening to your conversation in the washroom. I believe we can
help each other.

Beth smiled weakly. If youre powerful enough to do that, how can we
possibly help you? You can do anything.

My energistic power gives me a great deal of influence over the local
environment, I agree. But there are some things which remain beyond me.
Listening to you, for example, I had to use a bitek processor; theres
one in every section of the Mindoris life support module.

If youve heard everything weve talked about, then you know about
Gerald and Marie, Beth said.

Indeed. That is why I chose you to make my offer to. You already know
everything is not what it seems.

Jed peered at Rocios image. What offer?

The end requirements havent yet been finalized. However, if all goes
well, I expect I shall require you to perform some physical tasks for me.
Nothing too difficult. Just venture into a few places I obviously cannot
reach.

Such as?

That is not yet apparent. We will have to advance this partnership one
step at a time. As a gesture of goodwill, I am prepared to impart some
information to you. If, based on what you hear, you then wish to continue
with this relationship, we can move forward together.

Beth gave Jed a puzzled glance, not surprised to find he was equally
mystified. Go on, she said. Well listen.

I am about to swallow into the New California system. We will probably
dock at Monterey asteroid, the headquarters of the Capone Organization.

No way! Jed cried.

There never was a new rendezvous, was there? Beth asked, somehow
unsurprised by the revelation.

No, Rocio said. We did not dock at Valisk because it is no longer in
this universe. There was a battle for control between different factions
of possessed inside. The victors subsequently removed it.

Jed took a couple of paces backwards, and sank down onto the bunk. His
face was fragile with dismay. Gone?

Im afraid so. And I am genuinely sorry. I know how much hope you had
for your future there. Unfortunately, that hope was extremely misplaced.

How? Beth asked through clenched teeth.

There never was any Deadnight, not really. Kiera Salter simply wanted
fresh bodies to possess so that she could expand the habitats population
base. Had you disembarked there, you would have been tortured until you
surrendered yourselves to possession.

Oh Jeeze, Beth whispered. And Monterey? Whats going to happen to us
at Monterey?

Much the same, I expect. The Organization does retain professional
non-possessed who have specialist fields of expertise. Are you highly
qualified in any subject?

Us? Beth barked in consternation. Youve gotta be bloody joking, mate.
The only thing we know how to do proper is mess up. Every bloody time.
She was afraid she was going to start crying.

I see, Rocio said. Well, in return for your help, I am prepared to
hide you on board when we dock at Monterey.

What sort of help? Jed asked.

Beth wheeled round to glare at him. Does it bloody matter! Yes well
help. As much as you want.

Rocios image gave a dry smile. As I said, my requirements will not be
fully established until I have analysed the local situation. It may be
that I dont require you to do anything. For the moment, I shall simply
hold you in reserve.

Why? Beth asked. Youre part of them. Youre a possessor. What do you
want us for?

Because I am not part of them. We are not all the same. I was being
coerced into helping Kiera. Now I must find out what has happened to the
other hellhawks, and decide what to do next. In order to do that, I must
keep every conceivable option open. Having allies who are in no position
to betray me will provide an excellent advantage.

All right, Beth said. What do we have to do?

I will swallow into the New California system in another thirty minutes.
Even if Kiera and the other hellhawks have left there, the passengers
will have to be disembarked. For now, the pair of you must be hidden. I
believe I have a place which will put you outside the perception range of
Choi-Ho and Maxim Payne.

What perception range? Jed asked.

All possessed are able to sense the thoughts of other people. The range
varies between individuals, of course.

You mean they know what Im thinking? he hooted.

No. But they are aware of your presence, and with that your emotions.
However, such perception through solid matter is difficult; I believe the
fluid in some of my tanks will shield you. We just have to get you at the
centre of a suitably large cluster.

There had better be room for five of us in this nest of yours, Beth
said sprightly.

I only require two people.

Tough, mate. You get yourself a bargain package with us. Gerald and the
girls come too.

I dont need them.

She gave his image a cold smile. Must have been dead a long time, huh?
To forget what its like to have other people, friends, responsibilities.
What? You think wed leave them behind for Capone. A couple of kids? Come
on!

The Organization is unlikely to possess the girls. They pride themselves
in being altruistic and charitable.

Good for them. But it doesnt make any difference. You get all five of
us, or none at all.

Thats right, Jed said, coming up to stand beside her. Garis my
sister. Im not leaving her with Capone.

Rocio sighed heavily. Very well. But only those three. If you have a
flock of second cousins on board, they will have to take their chances
with the Organization.

No second cousins. What do you want us to do?



It took a lot of nerve to saunter idly into the Mindoris main lounge
with a bland expression on his face, knowing what he did. Jed felt he
carried it off rather well; his visits to the Blue Fountain in search of
sympathetic starship crews had provided a good rehearsal for brazening
out awkward moments. There was a big press of Deadnight kids in the
lounge, more than usual as the extended flight finally approached its
end. All of them gazing eagerly out of the big forward-looking window at
the silver-on-black starfield.

Jed let his eyes flick round quickly, confirming Choi-Ho and Maxim Payne
werent anywhere about. Rocio had assured him they were both in their
cabin, but he didnt entirely trust everything the hellhawks soul said.

In this instance, Rocio hadnt lied. The two possessed were nowhere to be
seen. Jed walked confidently across the lounge to one of the fitted
cupboards on the far side. Its narrow slatted doors were made from
rosewood, with small brass handles moulded to resemble rose buds. As he
put his hand round the cool metal, it turned to black plastic below his
fingers. A narrow display panel appeared briefly to one side, framing a
block of grey alphanumerics which flickered too fast to be read. He
waited until he heard a discreet click then pulled gently. The door
opened a fraction, and he moved closer, covering his actions.

Rocio had told him the bitek processor blocks were on the third shelf
from the top. The thin gap allowed him to confirm the slim rectangular
units were waiting there. It was obviously some kind of general equipment
storage cupboard; he could see tool kits, and test blocks, and sensor
modules, as well as several devices he couldnt fathom at all. A rack on
the fourth shelf contained five compact laser pistols.

He froze.

It was probably Rocios final assessment of his suitability. If he could
turn his back on the weapons he would be resolute enough to be of use to
the hellhawk. If he knew anything about this nebulous deal, whatever help
Rocio wanted, it would not be small, not when the exchange price was his
own life. But a weapon would offer some security, however feeble. And
Beth had her nervejam stick.

Knowing his heated thoughts would be betraying his guilt to Rocio in a
way no clandestine visual observation ever could, Jed reached calmly for
a pistol, then slid his hand smoothly up to one of the processor blocks.
He tucked both of them neatly into his inside jacket pocket, and shut the
cupboard door again. The electronic lock vanished instantly beneath a
slick ripple of wood grain which lapped over it.

Walking back out of the lounge was the worst part. Some little part of
Jeds brain was yelling at him to warn them. All of a sudden, he hated
them. Sweetly trusting kids, their eyes happy and shining as they gawped
out at the enchanting vista of interstellar space. All that hope
suffusing unseen, yet cloying, into the air as they waited for the window
to reveal their own special nirvana waiting for them at the end of the
next wormhole.

Fools! Blind, stupid, and ridiculously ingenuous. The hatred clarified
then. He was looking at multiple reflections of himself.



Beth got Gerald to come along with her, which he did unquestioningly. Jed
brought Gari and Navar, who were intensely curious, twittering together
as they walked down the length of the corridor. Their curiosity turned to
hard-edged scepticism as Jed knocked softly on the washroom door.

You told us this was important, Navar said accusingly.

It is, he assured her. Something in his tone stalled the scornful sniff
she was preparing as a retort.

Beth unlocked the washroom door and slid it open. Jed checked the
corridor to make sure no one was watching. With only fifteen minutes to
go until the swallow manoeuvre, all the other Deadnights were crowding
round the observation ports in the forward cabins. The two girls gave
Gerald a confused look as they all crowded into the confined space of the
cabin. In turn, Gerald barely noticed them. Jed took the bitek processor
block from his pocket. One surface shimmered with a moir holographic
pattern, then cleared to show Rocios face.

Well done, Jed, he said. Bluffing it out is often the best option.

Yeah, all right, now what?

Whos that? Navar asked.

Well explain later, Beth said. Right now, weve got to get into
position ready for when the ship docks. She said it to the girls,
although she was actually studying Gerald intently. He was in one of his
passive moods, unperturbed by what was happening. She just prayed he
stayed that way while they were hidden away.

Arent we getting off at Valisk? Gari asked her big brother in a
forlorn voice.

No, doll, sorry. Were not even docking with Valisk.

Why not?

Guess we got lied to. The bitter sorrow in his voice silenced her.

You will need to clear the floor, Rocio instructed.

Beth and the two girls climbed into the bath, while Gerald sat on the
toilet lid. Jed pressed himself back against the door. The floorboards
faded away; rich honey colour bleaching to a sanitary grey-green,
resilient texture becoming the uncompromising hardness of silicolithium
composite. Some residual evidence of the wood illusion remained, little
ridges where the planks had lain, dark flecks in the surface a pallid
mimicry of the grain pattern. In the centre of the floor was an
inspection hatch, with recessed metal locking clips at each corner.

Turn the clips ninety degrees clockwise, then pull them up, Rocio said.

Jed knelt down and did as he was told. When the clips were free, the
hatch rose ten centimetres with a swift hiss of air. He swung it aside.
There was a narrow metal crawl way below it, bordered by foam-insulated
pipes and bundled cables. Beth activated the lightstick shed brought
along, and held it over the hatch. There was a horizontal T-junction a
couple of metres down.

You will go first, Beth, Rocio said, and light the way. I will supply
directions. Jed, you must close the hatch behind you.

Reluctantly, with the girls pouting and scowling, they all climbed down
into the crawl way. Jed tugged the hatch back into place after him,
nearly catching his fingers as it guillotined shut. When it was in place,
the washroom floor silently and fastidiously sealed over with elegant
floorboards again.


Chapter 04
==========


Dariat wandered along the valley, not really paying much attention to
anything. Only the memories pulled at him, bittersweet recollections
guiding him towards the sacred places he hadnt dared visit in the flesh
for thirty years, not even when hed roamed through Valisk to avoid
Bonney and Kiera.

The wide pool, apparently carved into the grey-brown polyp-rock by the
streams enthusiastic flow, nature at its most pleasing. Where tufts of
soft pink grass lined the edges, strains of violet and amber moss
sprawled over the scattering of boulders, and long fronds of water reeds
swayed lazily in the current.

The flat expanse of land between the slope of the valley and an ox-bow
loop in the stream. An animal track wound through it, curving round
invisible obstacles as it led down to a shallow beach where the herds
could drink. Apart from that it was untouched, the pink grass which
currently dominated the plains was thick and lush here, its tiny
mushroom-shaped spoor fringes poised on the verge of ripeness. Nobody had
camped here for years, despite its eminent suitability. None of the
Starbridge tribes had ever returned. Not after . . .

Here. He walked to one side of the empty tract, the taller stalks of
grass swishing straight through his translucent legs. Yes, this was the
place. Anastasias tepee had been pitched here. A sturdy, colourful
contraption. Strong enough to take her weight when she tied the rope
round her neck. Was the pink grass slightly thinner here? A rough circle
where the pyre had been. Her tribe sending her and her few belongings on
their way to the Realms (every possession except one, the Thoale stones,
which he had kept safe these thirty years). Her body dispersed in fire
and smoke, freeing the soul from any final ties with the physical
universe.

How had they known? Those simple, backward people. Yet their lives
contained such astonishing truth. They more than anyone would be prepared
for the beyond. Anastasia wouldnt have suffered in the same way as the
lost souls hed encountered during his own fleeting time there. Not her.

Dariat sat on the grass, his toga crumpling around chubby limbs, though
never really chafing. If any of her essence had indeed lingered here, it
was long gone now. So now what? He looked up at the light tube, which had
become even dimmer than before. The air was cooler, too, nothing like
Valisks usual balmy medium. He was rather surprised that phenomenon
registered. How could a ghost sense temperature? But then most aspects of
his present state were a mystery.

<< Dariat? >>

He shook his head. Hearing things. Just to be certain, he looked around.
Nobody, alive or spectral, was in sight. An interesting point though.
Would I be able to see another ghost?

<< Dariat. You are there. We feel you. Answer us. >>

The voice was like affinity, but much softer. A whisper into the back of
his mind. Oh great, a ghost being haunted by another ghost. Thank you
again, Thoale. That could only ever happen to me.

<< Who is this? >>he asked.

<< We are Valisk now. Part of us is you. >>

<< What is this? What are you? >>

<< We are the habitat personality, the combination of yourself and Rubra.
>>

<< Thats crazy. You cannot be me. >>

<< But we are. Your memories and personality fused to Rubras within the
neural strata. Remember? The change to us, to the neural stratas thought
routines, was corporeal and permanent. We remain intact. You, however,
were a possessing soul, you were torn out by the habitats shift to this
realm. >>

<< A realm hostile to the possessed, >>he said rancorously.

<< Exactly. >>

<< Dont I know it. Im a ghost. Thats what the shift did to me. A
bloody ghost. >>

<< How intriguing. We cannot see you. >>

<< Im in the valley. >>

<< Ah. >>

Dariat could feel the understanding within the personality. It knew which
valley he meant. A true affinity.

<< Can we have access to your sensorium, please. It will allow us to
analyse the situation properly. >>

He couldnt think of a reasonable objection, even though the idea sat
uncomfortably. After thirty years of self-imposed mental isolation,
sharing came hard. Even with an entity that claimed to be derived from
himself.

<< Very well, >>he griped. He allowed the affinity link to widen, showing
the personality the world through his eyesor at least what he imagined
to be his eyes.

As requested, he looked at his own body for the personality, walked
about, demonstrated how he had no material presence.

<< Yet you persist in interpreting yourself as having human form, >>the
personality said. << How strange. >>

<< Force of habit, I guess. >>

<< More likely to be subconscious reassurance. The pattern is your basic
foundation, the origin of quintessential identity. Retention of that is
probably critical to your continuation as a valid entity. In other words,
youre very set in your ways. But then we know that already, dont we. >>

<< I dont believe Im that self-destructive. So if you wouldnt mind
cancelling the insults for a few decades. >>

<< As you wish. After all, we do know how to cut the deepest. >>

Dariat could almost laugh at the impression of dj vu which the exchange
conjured up. He and Rubra had spent days of this same verbal fencing
while he was possessing Horgans body. << Was there a reason you wanted
to talk to me? Or did you just want to say hello? >>

<< This realm is not hostile to souls alone. It is also affecting our
viability right down to the atomic level. Large sections of the neural
strata have ceased to function, nor are such areas static, they flow
through the strata at random, requiring persistent monitoring. Such
failures threaten even our homogenised presence. We have to run constant
storage replication routines to ensure our core identity is not erased. >>

<< Thats tough, but unless the failure occurs everywhere simultaneously,
youll be safe. >>

<< As may be. But the overall efficiency of our cells is much reduced.
The sensitive cell clusters cannot perceive as clearly as before; organ
capability is degrading to alarming levels. Muscle membrane response is
sluggish. Electrical generation is almost zero. All principal mechanical
and electrical systems have shut down. The communication net and most
processors are malfunctioning. If this situation continues, we will not
be able to retain a working biosphere for more than ten days, a fortnight
at most. >>

<< I hate to sound negative at a time like this, but what do you expect
me to do about it? >>

<< The remaining population must be organized to assist us. There are
holding procedures which can be enacted to prevent further deterioration.
>>

<< Physical ones. Youll have to ask the living, not me. >>

<< We are attempting to. However, those who have been de-possessed are
currently in an extremely disorientated state. Even those we have
affinity contact with are unresponsive. As well as undergoing severe
psychological trauma, their physiological condition has deteriorated. >>

<< So? >>

<< There are nearly three hundred of our relatives still in zero-tau.
Your idea, remember? Kiera was holding them ready as an incentive for the
hellhawk possessors. If they were to be taken out, we would have a
functional work force ready to help, one that has a good proportion of
qualified technicians among it. >>

<< Good idea . . . Wait, how come their zero-tau pods are working when
everything else has failed? >>

<< The zero-tau systems are self-contained and made from military-grade
components, they are also located in the deep caverns. We assumed that
combination affords them some protection from whatever is affecting us. >>

<< If all youve got to do is flick one switch, why not just use a
servitor? >>

<< Their physiological situation is even worse than the humans. All the
animals in the habitat seem to be suffering from a strong form of
sleeping sickness. Our affinity instructions cannot rouse them. >>

<< Does that include all the xenoc species? >>

<< Yes. Their biochemistry is essentially similar to terrestrial
creatures. If our cells are affected, so are theirs. >>

<< Okay. Any idea what the problem is? Something like the energistic
glitch which the possessed gave out? >>

<< Unlikely. It is probably a fundamental property of this realm. We are
speculating that the quantum values of this continuum are substantially
different from our universe. After all, we did select it to have a
detrimental effect on the energy pattern which is a possessing soul.
Consequently, we must assume that mass-energy properties here have been
altered, that is bound to affect atomic characteristics. But until we can
run a full analysis on our quantum state, we cannot offer further
speculation. >>

<< Ever considered that the devil simply doesnt allow electricity in
this particular part of hell? >>

<< Your thought is our thought. We prefer to concentrate on the rational.
That allows us to construct a hypothesis which will ultimately allow us
to salvage this shitty situation. >>

<< Yeah, I can live with that. So what is it that you want me to do? >>

<< See if you can talk to someone called Tolton. He will switch off the
zero-tau pods for us. >>

<< Why? Who is he? >>

<< A street poet, so he claims. He was one of the inhabitants we managed
to keep out of Bonneys clutches. >>

<< Does he have affinity? >>

<< No. But legend has it that humans can see ghosts. >>

<< Shit, youre grasping at straws. >>

<< You have an alternative? >>



Ghosts can get tired. This unwelcome discovery made itself quite clear as
Dariat trudged over the grassland towards the ring of starscraper lobbies
in the middle of the habitat. But then if you have imaginary muscles,
they are put under quite a strain carrying your imaginary body across
long distances, especially when that body had Dariats bulk.

<< This is bloody unfair, >>he declared to the personality. << When souls
come back from the beyond, they all see themselves as physically perfect
twenty-five-year-olds. >>

<< Thats simple vanity. >>

<< I wish I was vain. >>

Valisks parkland was also becoming less attractive. Now he had hiked out
of the valley, the vivid pink grass which cloaked the southern half of
the cylinder was grading down to a musky-grey, an effect he equated to a
city smog wrapping itself round the landscape. It couldnt be blamed
entirely on the diminished illumination; the slim core of plasma in the
axial light tube was still a valiant neon blue. Instead it seemed to be
part of the overall lack of vitality which was such an obvious feature of
this realm. The xenoc plant appeared to be past its peak, as if its spore
fringes had already ripened and now it was heading back into dormancy.

None of the insects which usually chirped and flittered among the plains
had roused themselves. A few times, he came across field mice and their
xenoc analogues, who were sleeping fitfully. Theyd just curled up where
they were, not making any attempt to return to their nests or warrens.

<< Ordinary chemical reactions must still be working, >>he suggested. <<
If they werent, then everything would be dead. >>

<< Yes. Although from what were seeing and experiencing, they must also
be inhibited to some degree. >>

Dariat trudged on. The spiral-springs of grass made the going hard,
causing resistance as his legs passed through them. It was though he was
walking along a stream bed where the water was coming half-way up his
shins. As his complaints became crabbier, the personality guided him
towards one of the narrow animal tracks.

After half an hour of easier walking, and pondering his circumstances, he
said: << You told me that your electrical generation was almost zero. >>

<< Yes. >>

<< But not absolute? >>

<< No. >>

<< So the habitat must be in some kind of magnetic field if the induction
cables are producing a current. >>

<< Logically, yes. >>

<< But? >>

<< Some induction cables are producing a current, the majority are not.
And those that are, do so sporadically. Buggered if we can work out
whats going on, boy. Besides, we cant locate any magnetic field
outside. Theres nothing we can see that could be producing one. >>

<< What is out there? >>

<< Very little. >>

Dariat felt the personality gathering the erratic images from clusters of
sensitive cells speckling the external polyp shell, and formatting them
into a coherent visualisation for him. The amount of concentration it
took for the personality to fulfil what used to be a profoundly simple
task surprised and worried him.

There were no planets. No moons. No stars. No galaxies. Only a murky void.

The eeriest impression he received from the expanded affinity bond was
the way Valisk appeared to be in flight. Certainly he was aware of
movement of some kind, though it was purely subliminal, impossible to
define. The huge cylinder appeared to be gliding through a nebula. Not
one recognizable from their universe. This was composed from
extraordinarily subtle layers of ebony mist, shifting so slowly they were
immensely difficult to distinguish. Had he been seeing it with his own
eyes, he would have put it down to overstressed retinas. But there were
discernible strands of the smoky substance out there; sparser than
atmospheric cloud, denser than whorls of interstellar gas.

Abruptly, a fracture of hoary light shimmered far behind the hub of
Valisks southern endcap, a luminous serpent slithering around the
insubstantial billows. Rough tatters of gritty vapour detonated into
emerald and turquoise phosphorescence as it twirled past them. The
phenomenon was gone inside a second.

<< Was that lightning? >>Dariat asked in astonishment.

<< We have no idea. However, we cant detect any static charge building
on our shell. So it probably wasnt electrically based. >>

<< Have you seen it before? >>

<< That was the third time. >>

<< Bloody hell. How far away was it? >>

<< That is impossible to determine. We are trying to correlate parallax
data from the external sensitive cells. Unfortunately, lack of distinct
identifiable reference points within the cloud formations is hampering
our endeavour. >>

<< Youre beginning to sound like an Edenist. Take a guess. >>

<< We believe we can see about two hundred kilometres altogether. >>

<< Shit. Thats all? >>

<< Yes. >>

<< Anything could be out there, behind that stuff. >>

<< Youre beginning to catch on, boy. >>

<< Can you tell if were moving? I got the impression we were. But it
could just be the way that cloud stuff is shifting round out there. >>

<< We have the same notion, but thats all it ever can be. Without a
valid reference point, it is impossible to tell. Certainly were not
under acceleration, which would eliminate the possibility were falling
through a gravity field . . . if this realm has gravity, of course. >>

<< Okay, how about searching round with a radar? Have you tried that?
There are plenty of arrays in the counter-rotating spaceport. >>

<< The spaceport has radar, it also has several Adamist starships, and
over a hundred remote maintenance drones which could be adapted into
sensor probes. None of which are functioning right now, boy. We really do
need to bring our relatives out of zero-tau. >>

<< Yeah yeah. Im getting there as quick as I can. You know what, I dont
think fusing with my thought routines has made that big an impression on
you, has it? >>



According to the personality, Tolton was in the parkland outside the
Gonchraov starscraper lobby. Dariat didnt get there on the first
attempt. He encountered the other ghosts before he arrived.

The pink grassland gradually gave way to terrestrial grass and trees a
couple of kilometres from the starscraper lobbies. It was a lush
manicured jungle which boiled round the habitats midsection, with gravel
tracks winding round the thicker clumps of trees and vines. Big stone
slabs formed primitive bridges over the rambling brooks, their support
boulders grasped by thick coils of flowering creepers. Petals were
drooping sadly as Dariat walked over them. As he drew closer to the
lobby, he started to encounter the first of the servitor animal corpses,
most of them torn by burnt scars, the impact of white fire. Then he
noticed the decaying remains of several of their human victims lying in
the undergrowth.

Dariat found the sight inordinately depressing. A nasty reminder of the
relentless struggle which Rubra and Kiera had fought for dominance of the
habitat. And who won? he asked morbidly.

He cleared another of the Neolithic bridges. The trees were thinning out
now, becoming more ornate and taller as jungle gave way to parkland.
There were flashes of movement in front of him coupled with murmurs of
conversation, which made him suddenly self-conscious. Was he going to
have to jump up and down waving his arms and shouting to get the living
to notice him?

Just as he was psyching himself up for the dismaying inevitable, the
little group caught sight of him. There were three men and two women.
Their clothes should have clued him in. The eldest man was wearing a very
long, foppish coat of yellow velvet with ruffled lace down the front; one
of the women had forced her large fleshy frame into a black leather
dominatrix uniform, complete with whip; her mousy middle-aged companion
was in a baggy woollen overcoat, so deliberately dowdy it was a human
stealth covering; of the remaining two men, one was barely out of his
teens, a black youth with panther muscles shown off by a slim red
waistcoat; while the other was in his thirties, covered by a baggy
mechanics overall. They made a highly improbable combination, even for
Valisks residents.

Dariat stopped in surprise and with some gratification, raising a hand in
moderate greeting. Hello there. Glad you can see me. My names Dariat.

They stared at him, already unhappy expressions displaced by belligerent
suspicion.

You the one Bonney had everyone chasing? the black guy asked.

Dariat grinned modestly. Thats me.

Motherfucker. You did this to us! he screamed. I had a body. I had my
life back. You fucked that. You fucked me. You ruined everything.
Everything! You brought us here, you and that shit living in the walls.

Comprehension dawned for Dariat. He could see the faint outlines of
branches through the man. Youre a ghost, he exclaimed.

All of us are, the dominatrix said. Thanks to you.

Oh shit, he whispered in consternation.

<< There are other ghosts? >>the personality asked. The affinity band was
awash with interest.

<< What does it bloody look like! >>

The dominatrix took a step towards him; her whip flicked out, cracking
loudly. She grinned viciously. I havent had a chance to use this
properly for a long time, dearie. Thats a shame, because I know how to
use it real bad.

Gonna get you plenty of chance to catch up now, the black guy purred to
her.

Dariat stood his ground shakily. You cant blame me for this. Im one of
you.

Yeah, said the mechanic. And this time you cant get away. He drew a
heavy spanner from his leg pocket.

<< They must all be here, >>the personality said. << All the possessing
souls. >>

<< Just great. >>

Can we hurt him? the mousy woman asked.

Lets find out, the dominatrix replied.

Wait! Dariat implored. We need to work together to get the habitat out
of this place. Dont you understand? Its collapsing around us,
everythings breaking down. Well be trapped here.

The black guy bared his teeth wide. We needed you to work with us to
beat the habitat back in the real universe.

Dariat flinched. He turned and ran. They gave chase immediately. That
theyd catch him was never in doubt. He was appallingly overweight, and
hed just finished a nine kilometre hike. The whip slashed against the
back of his left calf. He wailed, not just from the sharp sting, but from
the fact it could sting.

They whooped and cheered behind him, delighted by the knowledge they
could inflict injury, pain. Dariat staggered over the end of the bridge,
and took a few unsteady steps towards the thicker part of jungle. The
whip struck him again, flaying his shoulder and cheek, accompanied by the
dominatrixs gleeful laugh. Then the lean black guy caught up with him,
and jumped high, kicking him in the small of the back.

Dariat went flying, landing flat on his stomach, arms and legs spread
wide. Not a single blade of grass even bent as he struck the ground; his
bloated body seemed to be lying on a median height of stalks, while
longer stems poked straight through him.

The beating began. Feet kicked savagely into his flanks, his legs, neck.
The whip whistled down again and again, landing on his spine each time.
Then the mechanic stood on his shoulders, and brought the spanner down on
his skull. The battering became rhythmic, horrifyingly relentless. Dariat
cried out at every terrifying impact. There was pain, in abundance there
was pain, but no blood, nor damage, nor bruising or broken bones. The
blaze of hurt had its origin in a concussion of hatred and fury. Each
blow reinforcing, emphasising how much they wanted him ruined.

His cries grew fainter, though they were just as insistent, and tainted
with increasing anguish. The spanner, and the whip, and the boots, and
the fists began to sink into him, puncturing his intangible boundary. He
was sinking deeper into the grass, the hammering propelling his belly
into the soil. Coldness swept into him, a wave racing on ahead of the
solid surface with which he was merging. His shape was lacking definition
now, its outline becoming less substantial. Even his thoughts began to
lose their intensity.

Nothing could stop them. Nothing he said. Nothing he begged. Nothing he
could pay. None of his prayers. Nothing. He had to endure it all. Not
knowing what the outcome would be; terrifyingly, not knowing what it
could be.

They let him be, eventually. After how much time not one of them knew. As
much as it took to satisfy their hunger for vengeance. To dull the
enjoyment of sadism. To experiment with the novel methods of brutality
available to ghosts. There wasnt much of his presence left when they
finished. A gauzy patch of pearl luminescence loitering amid the grass,
the back of his toga barely bobbing above the surface of the soil. Limbs
and head were buried.

Laughing, they walked away.

Amid the coldness, darkness, and apathy, a few strands of thought clung
together. A weak filigree of suffering and woe. Everything he was. Very
little, really.



Tolton had a brief knowledge of scenes like this. Secondhand knowledge,
old and stale, memories of tales told to him by the denizens of the
lowest floors of the starscrapers. Tales of covert combat operations, of
squads that had been hit by superior firepower, waiting to be evac-ed out
of the front line. Their bloody, battered casualties wound up in places
like this, a field hospital triage. It was the latest development in the
saga of the habitat populations misfortunes. Lately, studying the
parkland had become a form of instant archaeology. Evolving stages of
residence were laid out in concentric circles, plain to see.

In the beginning was the starscraper lobby, a pleasing rotunda of stone
and glass, blending into the superbly maintained parkland. Then with the
arrival of possession, the lobby had been smashed up during one of the
innumerable firefights between Kieras followers and Rubra, and a shanty
town had sprung up in a ring around it. Tiny Tudor cottages had stood
next to Arabian tents, which were pitched alongside shiny Winnebagoes;
the richness of imagination on display was splendid. That was before
Valisk departed the universe.

After that, the illusion of solidity had melted away like pillars of salt
in the rain, exposing rickety shacks assembled from scraps of plastic and
metal. They leant together precariously, one stacked against another to
provide a highly dubious stability. The narrow strips of grass between
were reduced to slippery runnels of mud, often used as open sewers.

So now the survivors of Valisks latest change in fortune had moved
again, repelled from the hovels of their erstwhile possessors, they were
simply sprawling uncaringly across the surrounding grass. They lacked the
energy and willpower to do anything else. Some lay on their backs, some
had curled up, some were sitting against trees, some stumbled about
aimlessly. That wasnt so bad, Tolton thought, after what theyd been
through a period of stupefaction was understandable. It was the sound
which was getting to him. Wails of distress and muffled sobbing mingling
together to poison the air with harrowing dismay. Five thousand people
having a bad dream in unison.

And just like a bad dream, you couldnt wake them from it. To begin with,
when hed emerged from his hiding place, hed moved from one to another.
Offering words of sympathy, a comforting arm around the shoulder. Hed
persisted valiantly for a couple of hours like that, before finally
acknowledging how quite pathetically pointless it all was. Somehow, they
would have to get over the psychological trauma by themselves.

It wasnt going to be easy, not with the ghosts as an ever-present
reminder of their ordeal. The ex-possessors were still slinking furtively
through the outlying trees of the nearby jungle. For whatever reason,
once theyd been expelled from their host bodies, they wouldnt leave.
Immediately after Valisks strange transformation they had clung
longingly to their victims, following them with perverted devotion as
they crawled about shaking and vomiting in reaction to their release.
Then as people had gradually started to recover their wits and take
notice, the anger had surfaced. It was that massive deluge of communal
hatred which had forced the ghosts to retreat, rather than the shouts of
abuse and threats of vengeance.

Theyd fled into the refuge of the jungle around the parkland, almost
bewildered by the response theyd spawned. But they hadnt gone far.
Tolton could see them thronging out there amid the funereal trees, their
eerie pale radiance casting diaphanous shadows which twisted fluidly amid
the branches and trunks.

But the ghosts never went any further than the trees. It was as if the
greater depths of the darkling habitat frightened them, too. That was the
aspect of this whole affair which worried Tolton the most.

His own wanderings were almost as aimless as anyone in the throes of
recovery. Like them, he didnt relish the idea of venturing through the
shanty town, he also considered it prudent not to fraternise with the
ghosts. Though somewhere at the back of his mind was some ancient piece
of folklore about ghosts never actually killing anybody. Whichever
pre-history warlock came up with that prophecy had obviously never
encountered these particular ghosts.

So he kept moving, avoiding eye-contact, searching for . . . well, hed
know what when he saw it. Ironically, the thing he missed most was Rubra,
and the wealth of knowledge which came with that contact. But the
processor block hed used to stay in touch with the habitat personality
had crashed as soon as the change happened. Since then hed tried using
several other blocks. None of them worked, at most he got a trickle of
static. He didnt have enough (any, actually) technical knowledge to
understand why.

Nor did he understand the change which the habitat had undergone, only
the result, the mass exorcism. He assumed it had been imposed by some
friendly ally. Except Valisk didnt have any allies. And Rubra had never
dropped any hint that this might happen, not in all the weeks hed kept
Tolton hidden from the possessed. There was nothing for it but to keep
moving for the delusion of purpose it bestowed, and wait for
developments. Whatever they might be.

Please. The womans voice was little more than a whisper, but it was
focused enough to make Tolton hesitate and try to see who was speaking.

Please, I need some help. Please. The speaker was in her late
middle-age, huddled up against a tree. He walked over to her, avoiding a
couple of people who were stretched out, almost comatose, on the grass.

Details were difficult in this leaden twilight. She was wrapped in a
large tartan blanket, clutching it to her chest like a shawl. Long
unkempt hair partially obscured her face, glossy titian roots contrasted
sharply with the dirty faded chestnut of the tresses. The features
glimpsed through the tangle were delicate, a pert button nose and long
cheekbones, implausibly artistic eyebrows. Her skin seemed very tight,
almost stretched, as if to emphasise the curves.

Whats wrong? Tolton asked gently, cursing himself for the stupidity of
the question. As he knelt beside her, the light tubes meagre nimbus
glimmered on the tears dribbling down her cheeks.

I hurt, she said. Now shes gone, I hurt so badly.

Itll go. I promise, time will wash it away.

She slept with hundreds of men, the woman cried wretchedly. Hundreds.
Women, too. I felt the heat in her, she loved it, all of it. That slut,
that utter slut. She made my body do things with those animals. Awful,
vile things. Things no decent person would ever do.

He tried to take one of her hands, but she snatched it away, turning from
him. It wasnt you, he said. You didnt do any of those things.

How can you say that? It was done to me. I felt it all, every minute of
it. This is my body. Mine! My flesh and blood. She took that from me. She
soiled me, ruined me. Im so corrupt Im not even human any more.

Im sorry, really I am. But you have to learn not to think like that. If
you do, youre letting her win. Youve got to put that behind you. Its
over, and youve won. Shes been exorcised, shes nothing but a neurotic
wisp of light. Thats all shell ever be now. Id call that a victory,
wouldnt you?

But I hurt, she persisted. Her voice dropped to a confessional tone.
How can I forget when I hurt?

Look, there are treatments, memory suppressers, all sorts of cures. Just
as soon as we get the power turned back on, you can . . .

Not my mind! Not just that. She had begun to plead. Its my body, my
body which hurts.

Tolton started to get a very bad feeling about where the conversation was
heading. The woman was shaking persistently, and he was sure some of the
moisture glistening on her face had to be perspiration. He flicked an
edgy glance back at her unnatural roots. Where, exactly, does it hurt?

My face, she mumbled. My face aches. Its not me anymore. I couldnt
see me when she looked in a mirror.

They all did that, all imagined themselves to look ridiculously young
and pretty. Its an illusion, thats all.

No. It became real. Im not me, not now. She even took my identity away
from me. And . . . Her voice started trembling. My shape. She stole my
body, and still that wasnt enough. Look, look what shes done to me.

Moving so slowly that Tolton wanted to do it for her, she drew the folds
of the blanket apart. For the first time, he actually wished there was
less light. To begin with it looked as though someone had badly bungled a
cosmetic package adaptation. Her breasts were grossly misshapen. Then he
realized that was caused by large bulbs of flesh clinging to the upper
surface like skin-coloured leeches. Each one almost doubled the size of
the breast, the weight pulling them down heavily. The natural tissue was
almost squashed from view.

The worst part of it was, they obviously werent grafts or implants;
whatever the tissue was, it had swollen out of the natural mammary gland.
Below them, her abdomen was held anorexically flat by a broad oval slab
of unyielding skin. It was as though shed developed a thick callous
across the whole area, fake musculature marked out by faint translucent
lines.

See? the woman asked, staring down at her exposed chest in abject
misery. Bigger breasts and a flat belly. She really wanted bigger
breasts. That was her wish. Theyd be more useful to her, more fun, more
spectacular. And she could make wishes come true.

God preserve us, Tolton murmured in horror. He didnt know much about
human illnesses, but there were some scraps of relevant information
flashing up out of his childhoods basic medical didactic memories.
Cancer tumours. Almost a lost disease. Geneering had made human bodies
massively resistant to the ancient bane. And for the few isolated
instances when it did occur, medical nanonics could penetrate and
eradicate the sick cells within hours.

I used to be a nurse, the woman said, as she ashamedly covered herself
with the blanket again. Theyre runaways. My breasts are the largest
growths, but I must have the same kind of malignant eruptions at every
change she instituted.

What can I do? he asked hoarsely.

I need medical nanonic packages. Do you know how to program them?

No. I dont even have neural nanonics. Im a poet, thats all.

Then, please, find me some. My neural nanonics arent working either,
but a processor block might do instead.

I . . . Yes, of course. It would mean a trip into the lifeless,
lightless starscraper to find some, but his discomfort at that prospect
was nothing compared to her suffering. Somehow, he managed to keep a
neutral expression on his face as he stood up, even though he was pretty
certain a medical nanonic package wouldnt work in this weird
environment. But it might, it just might. And if that slender chance
existed, then he would bring one for her, no matter what.

He cast round the dismal sight of people strewn about, holding themselves
and moaning. The really terrifying doubt engulfed him then. Suppose the
anguish wasnt all psychological? Every possessed hed seen had changed
their appearance to some degree. Suppose every change had borne a
malignancy, even a small one.

Oh fucking hell, Rubra. Where are you? We need help.



As always, there was no warning when the cell door opened. Louise wasnt
even sure when it had swung back. She was curled up on the bunk, dozing,
only semi-aware of her surroundings. Quite how long shed been in this
state, she didnt know. Somehow, her time sense had got all fouled up.
She remembered the interview with Brent Roi, his sarcasm and unconcealed
contempt. Then shed come back here. Then . . . Shed come back here
hours ago. Well, a long time had passed . . . She thought.

I must have fallen asleep.

Which was hard to believe; the colossal worry of the situation had kept
her mind feverishly active.

The usual two female police officers appeared in the doorway. Louise
blinked up at their wavering outlines, and tried to right herself. Bright
lights flashed painfully behind her eyes; she had to clamp her mouth shut
against the sudden burst of nausea.

What is wrong with me?

Woo there, steady on. One of the police officers was sitting on the bed
beside her, holding her up.

Louise shook uncontrollably, cold sweat beading on her skin. Her reaction
calmed slightly, though it was still terribly hard to concentrate.

One minute, the woman said. Let me reprogram your medical package. Try
to take some deeper breaths, okay?

That was simple enough. She gulped down some air, her chest juddering.
Another couple of breaths. Her rogue body seemed to be calming. Wha . .
. What? she panted.

Anxiety attack, said the policewoman. We see a lot of them in here.
That and worse things.

Louise nodded urgently, an attempt to convince herself thats all it was.
No big deal. Nothing badly amiss. The babys finethe medical package
would insure that. Just stay calm.

Okay. Im okay now. Thank you. She proffered a small smile at the
police officer, only to be greeted with blank-faced indifference.

Lets go, then, said the officer standing by the door.

Louise girded herself, and slowly stood on slightly unsteady legs. Where
are we going?

Parole Office. She sounded disgusted.

Wheres Genevieve? Wheres my sister?

Dont know. Dont care. Come on.

Louise was almost shoved out into the corridor. She was improving by the
minute, although the headache lingered longer than anything else. A small
patch of skin at the back of her skull tingled, as if shed been stung.
Her fingers stroked it absently. Anxiety attack? She hadnt known there
was such a thing before. But given everything she currently had to think
about, such a malaise was more than likely.

They got into a lift which had to be heading down. The gravity field had
risen to almost normal when they got out. This part of the asteroid was
different to the cells and interview rooms shed been kept in until now.
Definitely government offices, the standardized furniture and eternally
polite personnel with their never-smiling faces were evidence of that.
She took a little cheer from the fact these corridors and glimpsed rooms
werent as crushingly bleak as the upper level. Her status had changed
for the better. Slightly.

The police officers showed her into a room with a narrow window looking
out over High Yorks biosphere cavern. Not much to see, it was dawn, or
dusk, Louise didnt know which. The grassland and trees soaking up the
gold-orange light were a brighter, more welcoming green than the cavern
in Phobos. Two curving settees had been set up facing each other in the
middle of the floor, bracketing an oval table. Genevieve slouched on one
of them, hands stuffed into the pockets of her shipsuit, feet swinging
just off the floor, looking out of the window. Her expression was a
mongrel cross between sullen resentment and utter boredom.

Gen. Louises voice nearly cracked.

Genevieve raced across the room and thudded into her. They hugged each
other tightly. They wouldnt tell me where you were! Genevive protested
loudly. They wouldnt let me see you. They wouldnt say what was
happening.

Louise stroked her sisters hair. Im here now.

Its been forever. Days!

No, no. It just seems like that.

Days, Genevieve insisted.

Louise managed a slightly uncertain smile; wanting for herself the
reassurance she was attempting to project. Have they been questioning
you?

Yes, Genevieve mumbled morosely. They kept on and on about what
happened in Norwich. I told them a hundred times.

Me too.

Everybody must be really stupid on Earth. They dont understand anything
unless youve explained it five times.

Louise wanted to laugh at the childish derision in Gens voice, pitched
just perfectly to infuriate any adult.

And they took my games block away. Thats stealing, that is.

I havent seen any of my stuff either.

The foods horrid. I suppose theyre too thick to cook it properly. And
I havent had any clean clothes.

Well, Ill see what I can do.

Brent Roi hurried into the room, and dismissed the two waiting police
officers with a casual wave. Okay, ladies, take a seat.

Louise flashed him a resentful look.

Please? he entreated without noticeable sincerity.

Holding hands, the sisters sat on the settee opposite him. Are we under
arrest? Louise asked.

No.

Then you believe what I told you?

To my amazement, I find sections of your story contain the odd nugget of
truth.

Louise frowned. This attitude was completely different to the one hed
shown her during the interview. Not that he was repenting, more like hed
been proved right instead of her.

So youll watch out for Quinn Dexter?

Most assuredly.

Genevieve shuddered. I hate him.

Thats all that truly matters, Louise said. He must never be allowed
to get down to Earth. If you believe me, then Ive won.

Brent Roi shifted uncomfortably. Okay, weve been trying to decide what
to do with the pair of you. Which I can tell you is not an easy thing,
given what you were attempting. You thought you were doing the right
thing, bringing Christian here. But believe me, from the legal side of
things, you are about as wrong as its possible to be. The Halo police
commissioner has spent two days being advised by some of our best legal
experts on what the hell to do with you, which hasnt improved his temper
any. Ordinarily wed just walk you past a warm judge and fly you off to a
penal colony. Thered be no problem obtaining a guilty verdict. He gazed
at Genevieve. Not even your age would get you off.

Genevieve pushed her shoulders up against her neck, and glowered at him.

However, there are mitigating circumstances, and these are strange
times. Lucky for you, that gives the Halo police force a large amount of
discretion right now.

So? Louise asked calmly. For whatever reason she wasnt afraid; if they
were due to face a trial none of this would be happening.

So. Pretty obviously: we dont want you up here after what youve done;
plus you dont have the basic technical knowledge necessary to live in an
asteroid settlement, which makes you a liability. Unfortunately, theres
an interstellar quarantine in force right now, which means we cant send
you off to Tranquillity where your fianc can take care of you. That just
leaves us with one option: Earth. You have money, you can afford to stay
there for the duration of the crisis.

Louise glanced at Genevieve, who squashed her lips together with a
dismissive lack of interest.

Im not going to object, Louise said.

I couldnt care less if you did, Brent Roi told her. You have no say
in this at all. As well as deporting you, I am officially issuing you
with a police caution. You have engaged in an illegal act with the
potential of endangering High York, and this will be entered into
Govcentrals criminal data memory store with a suspended action
designation. Should you at any time in the future be found committing
another criminal act of any nature within Govcentrals domain this case
will be reactivated and used in your prosecution. Is that clear?

Yes, Louise whispered.

You cause us one more problem, and theyll throw you out of the arcology
and lock the door behind you.

What about Fletcher? Genevieve asked.

What about him? Brent Roi said.

Is he coming down to Earth with us?

No, Gen, Louise said. Hes not. She tried to keep the sorrow from her
voice. Fletcher had helped her and Gen through so much, she still
couldnt think of him as a possessor, one of the enemy. The last image
she had was of him being led out of the big airlock chamber where theyd
been detained. A smile of forlorn encouragement on his face, directed at
her. Even in defeat, he didnt lose his nobility.

Your big sisters right, Brent Roi told Genevieve. Stop thinking about
Fletcher.

Have you killed him?

Tough to do. Hes already dead.

Have you?

At the moment hes being very cooperative. Hes telling us about the
beyond, and helping the physics team understand the nature of his
energistic power. Once weve learned all we can, then hell be put into
zero-tau. End of story.

Can we see him before we go? Louise asked.

No.



The two female police officers escorted Louise and Genevieve directly up
to the counter-rotating spaceport. They were given a standard class berth
on the Scher, an inter-orbit passenger ship. The interstellar quarantine
hadnt yet bitten into the prodigious Earth, Halo, Moon economic triad;
outsystem exports made up barely fifteen per cent of their trade. Civil
flights between the three were running close to their usual levels.

They arrived at the departure lounge twelve minutes before the ship was
scheduled to leave. The police returned their luggage and passports, with
Earth immigration clearance loaded in; they also got their processor
blocks back. Finally, they handed Louise her Jovian Bank credit disk.

Louise had her suspicions that the whole procedure was deliberately being
rushed to keep them off-balance and complacent. Not that she knew how to
kick up a fuss. But there was probably some part of their treatment which
a good lawyer could find fault with. She didnt really care. Schers life
support capsule had the same lengthy cylindrical layout as the Jamrana,
except that every deck was full of chairs. A sour stewardess showed them
brusquely to their seats, strapped them in, and left to chase other
passengers.

I wanted to change, Genevieve complained. She was pulling dubiously at
her shipsuit. I havent washed for ages. Its all clammy.

Well be able to change when we get to the tower station, I expect.

Which tower station? Where are we going?

I dont know. Louise glanced at the stewardess, who was chiding an
elderly womans attempts to fasten her seat straps. I think well just
have to wait and find out.

Then what? What do we do when we get there?

Im not sure. Let me think for a minute, all right?

Louise squirmed her shoulders, letting her muscles relax. Freefall always
made her body tense up as it tried to assume more natural gravity-evolved
postures. Thankfully, the cabin chairs were almost flat, preventing her
from getting stomach twinges.

What to do next hadnt bothered her much while shed been in custody.
Convincing Brent Roi about Dexter was her only concern. Now that had been
accomplished, or seemed to be. She still couldnt quite believe he had
taken her warnings particularly seriously; theyd been released far too
quickly for that. Dismissed, almost.

The authorities had Fletcher in custody, and he was cooperating with them
about possession. That was their true prize, she thought. They were
confident their security procedures would spot Dexter. She wasnt. Not at
all. And shed made one solemn promise to Fletcher, which covered exactly
this situation.

If I cant help him physically, at least I can honour my promise. If our
positions were reversed, he would. Banneth, I said Id find and warn
Banneth. Yes. And I will. The sudden resolution did a lot to warm her
again.

Then she was aware of a strangely rhythmic buzzing sound, and blinked her
eyes open. Genevieve had activated her processor block; its AV projector
lens was shining a conical fan of light directly on her face. Frayed
serpents of pastel colour stroked her cheeks and nose, glistening on a
mouth parted in an enraptured smile. Her fingers skated with fast
dextrous motions over the blocks surface, sketching eccentric ideograms.

Im really going to have to do something about this obsession, Louise
thought, it cant be healthy.

The stewardess was shouting at a man cradling a crying child. Tackling
Gen was probably best delayed until they reached Earth.



It wasnt rugged determination, or even victorious self-confidence which
brought him back. Instead, came the slow, dreadful comprehension that
this awful limbo wouldnt end if he did nothing.

Dariats thoughts hung amid vast clusters of soil molecules, membranous
twists of nebula dust webbing the space between stars, insipid,
enervated. Completely unable to evaporate, to fade away into blissful
non-existence. Instead, they hummed with chilly misery as they conducted
pain-soaked memories round and around on a never ending circuit,
humiliation and fear undimmed by time and repetition.

Worse than the beyond. At least in the beyond, there were other souls,
memories you could raid to bring an echo of sensation. Here there was
only yourself; a soul buried alive. Nothing to comfort you but your own
life. Screaming from the pain of the blows which battered him down might
have stopped, but the internal scream of self-loathing could never cease.
Not incarcerated here. He didnt want to go back, not to the dimly sensed
light and air above, the vicious brutality of the ghosts waiting there.
Every time he emerged, they would pummel him down again. That was what
all of them wanted. He would go through the same suffering again and
again. Yet he couldnt stay here, either.

Dariat moved. He thought of himself, visualised pushing his bulky body up
through the soil, as if he was doing some kind of appalling fitness-fad
exercise. It wasnt anything like that easy. Imagination couldnt power
him as before. Something had happened to him, weakening him. The vitality
he owned, even as a ghost, had been leeched out by the matter with which
he was entwined.

Fantasy muscles trembled as he strained. Finally, along his back,
sensation was returning in a paltry trickle. A warmth, but not on his
skin. Inside, just below the surface.

It inspired greed, a hunger for more. Nothing else mattered, the warmth
was revitalising, a font of life. It lent to his strength, and he began
to rise faster through the soil, sucking in more warmth as he went. Soon,
his face cleared the ground, and he was moving at an almost normal speed.
Extricating himself from the soil meant discovering just how cold he was.
Dariat stood up, teeth chattering, arms crossed over his chest, hugging
tight as his hands tried to rub some heat into icy flesh. Only his feet
were warm, though that was a relative term.

The grass around his sandals was a sickly yellow-brown, dead and
drooping. Each blade was covered in a delicate sprinkle of hoarfrost.
They made up a roughly oval patch about two metres long. Body-shaped, in
fact. He stared at it, completely bewildered.

Damn, Im cold!

<< Dariat? That you, boy? >>

<< Yes, its me. >>One questionhe didnt really want to ask, but had to
know. << How long was I . . . out for? >>

<< Its been seventeen hours. >>

Seventeen years was a figure he could have believed in quite easily. <<
Is that all? >>

<< Yes. What happened? >>

<< They beat me into the ground. Literally. It was . . . Bad. Real bad. >>

<< Then why didnt you come out earlier? >>

<< You wont understand. >>

<< Did you kill the grass? >>

<< I dont know. I suppose so. >>

<< How? We thought you didnt interact with solid matter. >>

<< Dont ask me. There was a kind of warmth as I came out. Or maybe it
was just hatred which killed the grass, concentrated hatred. Thats what
they were giving off; Thoale be damned, but they hated me. Im cold now.
>>He scanned round, searching through the tree trunks for any sign of the
other ghosts. After a moment, he walked away from the patch of dead
grass, spooked by the place. The opposite of consecrated ground.

Movement felt good, it was making his legs warm up. When he glanced down,
he saw a line of frosted footsteps in the grass trailing back to the
burial patch. But he was definitely getting warmer. He started walking
again, a meagre lick of heat seeping up from his legs to his torso. It
would take a long time to dispel the chill, but he was sure it would
happen eventually.

<< The starscraper is the other way, >>the personality said.

<< I know. Thats why Im going back to the valley. Ill be safe there. >>

<< For a while. >>

<< Im not risking another encounter. >>

<< You have to. Look, forewarned is forearmed. Just take it carefully. If
you see any ghosts waiting ahead of you, go around them. >>

<< Im not doing it. >>

<< You have to. Our internal status is still decaying. We must have those
descendants out of zero-tau. What good will a dead habitat do you? You
know theyre the only chance of salvation any of us have. You know that.
You just showed us how bad entombment here is; that could become
permanent if we dont get clear. >>

<< Shit! >>He stopped, standing with his fists clenched. Tendrils of
frost slithered out from under his soles to wilt the grass.

<< Its common sense, Dariat. You wont be giving in to Rubra just by
agreeing. >>

<< Thats not >>

<< Ha. Remember what we are. >>

<< All right! Bastards. Wheres Tolton? >>



Tolton had found the lightstick in an emergency equipment locker in the
starscrapers lobby. It gave out a lustreless purple-tinged glow, and
that emerged at a pitiful percentage of its designated output wattage.
But after forty minutes, his eyes had acclimatised well. Navigating down
through the interior of the starscraper posed few physical problems.
Resolution, however, was a different matter. In his other hand he carried
a fire axe from the same locker as the lightstick, it hardly inspired
confidence.

Beyond the bubble of radiance which enveloped him, it was very dark
indeed. And silent with it. No light shone in through any of the windows;
there wasnt even a dripping tap to break the monotony of his timorous
footsteps. Three times since hed been down here, the electrophorescent
cells had burst into life. Some arcane random surge of power sending
shoals of photons skidding along the vestibules and stairwells. The first
time it happened, hed been petrified. The zips of light appeared from
nowhere, racing towards him at high speed. By the time he yelled out and
started to cower down, they were already gone, behind him and vanishing
round some corner. He didnt react much better the next two times, either.

He told himself that he should be relieved that some aspect of Rubra and
the habitat was still functioning, however erratically. It wasnt much
reassurance; that the stars had vanished from view had been a profound
shock. Hed already decided he wasnt going to share that knowledge with
the other residents for a while. What he couldnt understand was, where
were they? His panicky mind was constantly filling the blank space
outside the windows with dreadful imaginings. It wasnt much of a leap to
have whatever skulked outside getting in to glide among the opaque
shadows of the empty starscraper. Grouping together and conspiring,
flowing after him.

The muscle membrane door at the bottom of the stairwell was partially
expanded, its edges trembling slightly. He cautiously stuck the
lightstick through the gap, and peered round at the fifth floor
vestibule. The high ceilings and broad curving archways that were the
mise-en-scne of Valisks starscrapers had always seemed fairly
illustrious before; biteks inalienable majesty. That was back when they
were bathed in light and warmth twenty-four hours a day. Now they
clustered threateningly round the small area of illumination he
projected, swaying with every slight motion of the lightstick.

Tolton waited for a moment, nerving himself to step out. This floor was
mainly taken up by commercial offices. Most of the mechanical doorways
had frozen shut. He walked along, reading the plaques on each one. The
eighth belonged to an osteopath specialising in sports injuries. There
ought to be some kind of medical nanonics inside. The emergency lock
panel was on the top of the frame. He broke it open with the blunt end of
the axe, exposing the handle inside. Now the power was off, or at least
disabled, the electronic bolts had disengaged. A couple of turns on the
handle released the lock entirely, and he prised the door open.

Typical waiting room: not quite expensive chairs, soft drinks dispenser,
reproduction artwork, and lush potted plants. The large circular window
looked out at nothing, a black mirror. Tolton saw his own reflection
staring back, with a fat man in a grubby robe standing behind him. He
yelped in shock, and dropped the lightstick. Flat planes of light and
shadow lurched around him. He turned, raising the axe up ready to swipe
down on his adversary. Almost overbalancing from the wild motion.

The fat man was waving his arms frantically, shouting. Tolton could hear
nothing more than a gentle murmur of air. He gripped the axe tightly as
it wobbled about over his head, ready for the slightest sign of
antagonism. None came. In fact, there probably couldnt ever be any.
Tolton could just see the door through the fat man. A ghost. That didnt
make him any happier.

The ghost had put his hands on his hips, face screwed up in some
exasperation. He was saying something slowly and loudly, an adult talking
to an idiot child. Again, there was that bantam ruffling of air. Tolton
frowned; it corresponded to the movements of the fat ghosts jaw.

In the end, communication became a derivative of lip reading. There was
never quite enough sound (if thats what it truly was) to form whole
words, rather the faint syllables clued him in.

Your axe is the wrong way round.

Uh. Tolton glanced up. The blade was pointing backwards. He shifted it
round, then sheepishly lowered it. Who are you?

My names Dariat.

Youre wasting your time following me, you cant possess me.

I dont want to. Im here to give you a message.

Oh yeah?

Yes. The habitat personality wants you to switch off some zero-tau pods.

How the hell do you know that?

Were in affinity contact.

But youre a . . .

Ghost. Yes, I had noticed. Although I think a revenant is a term more
applicable in my case.

A what?

The personality never warned me you were this stupid.

I am not . . . Toltons outrage spluttered to a halt. He started to
laugh.

Dariat gave the alleged street poet a mildly annoyed glare. Now what?

Ive had some weird shit dumped on me in my time, but I think arguing
with a ghost over my IQ has got to be the greatest.

Dariat felt his lips move up in a grin. Got a point there.

Thank you, my man.

So, are you going to help?

Of course. Will turning off the pods be of any use?

Yeah. That mad bitch Kiera was holding a whole load of my illustrious
relatives in stasis. They should be able to get things up and running
again.

Then we can get out of . . . Tolton took another look at the window.
Where are we, exactly?

Im not sure you can call this a place, more like a different state of
being. It exists to be hostile to the possessed. Unfortunately, there are
a few unexpected side effects.

You sound as though youre talking from a position of knowledge; which I
frankly find hard to believe.

I played a part in bringing us here, Dariat admitted. Im not
completely sure of the details, though.

I see. Well, wed better get started, then. He picked up the
lightstick. Ah, wait. I promised a woman Id try and find some medical
nanonic packages for her. She really does need them.

Theres some in the osteopaths storage cabinet, through there. Dariat
pointed.

You really are in touch with Rubra, arent you.

Hes changed a bit, but, yes.

Then Im curious. Why did the two of you choose me for this task?

His decision. But most of the other corporeal residents got whacked out
when they were de-possessed. You saw them up in the park. Theyre no good
for anything right now. Youre the best weve got left.

Oh, bloody hell.



When they emerged up into the decrepit lobby, Tolton sat down and tried
to get a processor block to work. Hed never had a didactic memory
imprint covering their operations and program parameters. Never needed
one; all he used them for was recording and playing AV fleks, and
communications, plus a few simple commands for medical nanonics (mainly
concerned with morning-after blood detoxification).

Dariat started to advise on how to alter the operating program format,
essentially dumbing down the unit. Even he had to consult with the
personality about which subroutines to delete. Between the three of them,
it took twenty minutes to get the little unit on line with a reliable
performance level.

Another fifteen minutes of running diagnostics (far slower than usual),
and they knew what medical nanonics could achieve in such an antagonistic
environment. It wasnt good news; the filaments which wove into and
manipulated human flesh were sophisticated molecular strings, with
correspondingly high-order management routines. They could bond the lips
of wounds together, and infuse doses of stored biochemicals. But fighting
a tumour by eliminating individual cancer cells was no longer possible.

<< We cant waste any more time on this, >>the personality protested.

Tolton was hunched up over the block. Dariat waved a hand under his
facethe only way to catch his attention. Out here in the park the poet
found it even harder to hear him; though Dariat suspected his voice was
actually some kind of weak telepathy.

Itll have to do, Dariat said.

Tolton frowned down once again at the horribly confusing mass of icons
eddying across the blocks screen. Will they be able to cure her?

No. The tumours cant be reversed, but the packages should be able to
contain them until we get back to the real universe.

All right. I suppose thatll do.

Dariat managed to feel mildly guilty at the sadness in Toltons voice.
The way the street poet could become so anxious and devoted to a stranger
hed only spent five minutes with was touching.

They walked through the moat of decaying shacks and into the surrounding
ring of human misery. The loathing directed at Dariat by those that saw
him was profound enough to sting. He, a creature now purely of thought,
was buffeted by the emanation of raw emotion; his own substance refined
against him. It wasnt as strong as the blows inflicted by his fellow
ghosts, but the cumulative effect was disturbingly debilitating. When
hed sneaked into the lobby he hadnt attracted such attention, a few
glances of sullen resentment at most. But then, he realized, he was still
suffering from the effects of the entombment, hed been weaker, less
substantial.

Now, the jeering and catcalls which chased him were building to a
crescendo as more and more people realized what the commotion was about
and joined in. He started staggering about, groaning at the pain.

What is it? Tolton asked.

Dariat shook his head. There was real fear building in him now. If he
stumbled and fell here, victim to this wave of hatred, he might never be
able to surface from the soil again. At every attempt he would be pressed
back by the throng of people above him, dancing on his living grave.

Going, he grunted. Got to go. He pressed his hands over his ears (fat
lot of good that it did) and tottered as fast as he could out towards the
shadowy trees beyond. Ill wait for you. Come when youve finished.

Tolton watched in dismay as the ghost scurried away; becoming all too
aware of the animosity which was now focusing on him. Head down, he
hurried away in the direction he thought hed left the woman.

She was still there, propped up against the tree. Dull eyes looked up at
him, suffused with dread, hope denied. It was the only part of her which
betrayed any emotion. Her stretched-tight face seemed incapable of
displaying the slightest expression. What was the noise about? she
mumbled.

I think there was a ghost around here.

Did they kill it?

I dont know. I dont think you can kill ghosts.

Holy water. Use holy water. Tolton knelt down, and gently eased her
clutching hands from the blanket. This time when it parted he was
determined not to grimace. It was hard. He placed the nanonic medical
packages on her breasts and belly the way Dariat had said, and used the
block to activate the pre-loaded programs. The packages stirred slightly
as they started to knit with her skin.

She let out a soft sigh, embodying both relief and happiness.

Itll be all right, he told her. Theyll stop the cancer now.

Her eyes had closed. I dont believe you. But its nice of you to say
it.

I mean it.

Holy water; thatll burn the bastards.

Ill remember.



Tolton found Dariat skulking among the fringes of the trees. The ghost
couldnt keep still, nervously searching round for signs of anyone
approaching.

Dont fret, man. The others dont care about you so long as you stay
away from them.

I intend to, Dariat grumbled. Come on, weve got a way to go.

He started walking.

Tolton shrugged, and started after him.

How was the woman? Dariat asked.

Perky. She wanted to sprinkle you with holy water.

Silly cow, he snorted with derisive amusement. Thats for vampires.



Kiera had decreed that the zero-tau pods should be put in the deep
chambers around the base of the northern endcap. The polyp in that
section was a honeycomb of caverns and tunnels; the chambers used almost
exclusively by the astronautics industry to support the docking ledge
infrastructure. Stores, workshops, and fabrication plants all dedicated
to supplying Magellanic Itgs blackhawk fleet. It was a logical place to
use. The equipment was already close to hand. There wasnt as much danger
from Rubras insurgency in the big, unsophisticated caverns as there was
in the starscrapers. And if they wanted them set up anywhere else, theyd
be facing a troublesome relocation job.

As soon as Dariat told him where the zero-tau pods were, Tolton tried to
use one of the rentcop jeeps abandoned around the starscraper lobby. It
crawled along barely at walking pace. Stopped. Started. Crawled some
more. Stopped.

They walked the whole way to the base of the northern endcap. Several
times during the day Tolton caught Dariat studying the path behind them,
and asked what he was trying to see.

Footprints, the fat ghost replied.

Tolton decided that after what hed been through, Dariat was entitled to
a reasonable degree of neurotic paranoia. The lightstick grew steadily
brighter as they ventured into the cavern levels. Indicator lights began
winking on some chunks of machinery. After a while, when they were deep
inside the habitat shell, the electrophorescent strips were glowing; not
as bright as before, but they remained steady.

Tolton switched the lightstick off. You know, I even feel better down
here.

Dariat didnt answer. He was aware of the difference himself. An
atmosphere reminiscent of those heady days thirty years ago, endless
bright summer days when being alive was such a blessing. The personality
was right, the otherworldliness of this continuum hadnt fully penetrated
down here. Things worked as they were supposed to.

We might manage to salvage something from this yet.

They found the zero-tau pods in a lengthy cavern. At some time, there had
been machinery or shelving pinned to the wall; small metal brackets still
protruded from the dark-amber polyp. Deep scratches told of their recent,
hurried removal. Now the cavern was empty except for the row of
interstellar-black sarcophagi running the length of the floor. Each of
them had been taken from a blackhawk, the crudely severed fittings were
proof of that. Thick cables had been grafted on to the interface panels,
wiring them into clumps of spherical high-density power cells.

Where do I start? Tolton asked.

The processor block he was carrying bleeped before Dariat could begin the
usual prolonged process of exaggerated enunciation. It doesnt matter.
Pick one.

Hey, Tolton grinned. Youre back.

Rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.

<< Oh, please, >>Dariat said.

<< Whats the matter with you? Were back on track. Rejoice. >>

Dariat was abruptly party to a resurgence of optimism, the sense of a
hibernating animal approaching winters end. Holding his scepticism in
check, he watched Tolton go over to the closest zero-tau pod. The
personality issued a couple of simple instructions, and Tolton pecked at
a keyboard.

Erentz completed her cower as the scene above her switched. One instant a
Chinese warlord with a cruel smile, promising that the next thing she
would know was the torture leading up to possession, the next a
moderately overweight, wide-eyed man with a good ten days worth of
grubby stubble was peering anxiously down at her. The light was dimmer,
too. The wail which shed started before the pod was activated,
continued, rising in pitch.

<< Its all right. Calm yourself. >>

Erentz paused, gathering her breath. << Rubra? >>The mental voice which
had chivvied her along since before she could remember felt different
slightly.

<< Almost. But dont worry. The possessed have gone. Youre safe. >>

There was a background emotion which sparked a small doubt. But the
obvious apprehension and concern of the man staring down at her was a
strange, fast-acting tonic. He definitely wasnt possessed.

Hello, Tolton said, desperate for some kind of response from the
startled young woman.

She nodded slowly, and raised herself gingerly into a sitting position.
It didnt help that the first thing she saw was Dariat hanging back by
the cavern entrance. She emitted a frightened gasp.

<< Im on your side, >>Dariat told her, earning a twitchy laugh in
response.

<< What is happening here? >>she demanded.

The personality began to fill her in. Acceptance of her new situation
came amid a rush of relief. Erentz, like all the others released from
zero-tau, relied on Rubra to provide a substantial part of their
confidence. That he was the one whod beaten the possessed was a heady
boost for them. Fifteen minutes saw the last of the zero-tau pods
deactivated. Dariat and Tolton were sidelined to slightly peeved
observers as the brigade of Rubras descendants quickly and efficiently
set about releasing their cousins. After that, when theyd come down off
the hype, the habitat personality began marshalling them into groups and
giving them assignments.

First priority was given to igniting the various fusion generators dotted
about the spaceport. They made two attempts to initiate fusion, both of
which failed. Microfusion generators, they soon found, worked well in the
deep caverns; so they began the arduous process of manoeuvring starship
auxiliary tokamaks through the spaceport and down the endcap. When the
first one came on-line operating at thirty-eight per cent efficiency,
they knew they really did stand a chance.

Schedules were drawn up to install another dozen in the caverns, feeding
their energy into the habitats organic conductors. After two days
unstinting effort, the light-tube began to blaze with early-morning
intensity. Noonday brightness was beyond them, but the resumption of
near-normal light provided a huge psychological kick for every resident
(curiously, that also included the ostracised ghosts). In tandem, the
habitats huge organs began to function again, ingesting and revitalising
the myriad fluids and gases utilised within the polyp.

Confidence guaranteed, the personality and its team set about
investigating their continuum. Equipment was ransacked from physics labs
and Magellanic Itg research centres, and taken down to the caverns where
it was powered up. Crude space probes were prepared from the MSVs,
sprouting simple sensor arrays. Outside that hot hive core of activity,
the rest of the residents slowly began to gather themselves together
mentally and physically. Although that promised to be possibly the
longest journey of all.

But after a week, Valisk had regained a considerable amount of its most
desired commodity: hope.



There was a broad grin smeared across Joshuas face during the entire
approach manoeuvre; sometimes it came from admiration, sometimes plain
affection. He knew he must look utterly dopy. Simply didnt care. Lady
Macs external sensor array was feeding his neural nanonics a panoramic
view of Jupiters snarled pink and white cloudscape. Tranquillity formed
a sharp midnight-black silhouette sailing across the storms.

The massive habitat looked completely undamaged; although its
counter-rotating spaceport was darker than usual. The docking bays,
normally the focus of frantic time-pressure maintenance efforts, were
shut down and lightless, leaving the curving ebony hulls of Adamist
starships half-hidden in their eclipsed metal craters. Only the
navigation and warning strobes were still flashing indomitably around the
edges of the big silver-white disc.

Its really here, Ashly said in a stunned voice from across the bridge.
Thats, thats . . .

Outrageous? Beaulieu suggested.

Damn right it is, Dhabi said. Nothing that big can be a starship.
Nothing.

Sarha laughed quietly. Face it, people; were living in interesting
times.

Joshua was glad that the Mzu, her compatriots, and the agency operatives
were all down in capsule Ds lounge. After everything theyd been
through, for the crew to show such bewilderment now was almost an
admission of weakness, as if they couldnt cope with the rigours of
starflight after all.

Jovian flight management authority datavised their final approach vector,
and Joshua reduced the fusion drives to a third of a gee as they crossed
the invisible boundary where Tranquillitys traffic control centre took
over guidance responsibility. Their escort of five voidhawks matched the
manoeuvre with consummate elegance; unwilling to show anything other than
perfection to Lagrange Calvert, a tribute to the modest debt Edenism owed
him for Aethra.

<< If only they knew, >>Samuel said. << Theyd be flying parabolas of
joy. >>

The Jovian sub-Consensus which dealt with classified security matters
acknowledged the sentiment with an ironic frisson. << Given our cultures
fundamental nature, the restriction of knowledge is always a curious
paradox to us, >>it said. << However, in the case of the Alchemist, it is
fully justified. Every Edenist does not need to know specific details,
hence the requirement for my existence. And your job. >>

<< Ah yes, my job. >>

<< You are tired of it. >>

<< Very. >>As soon as the Lady Macbeth had emerged above Jupiter, Samuel
had been conversing with the security sub-Consensus. It was the reason
there had been relatively little fuss made about their arrival. First
Admiral Aleksandrovichs decision had quickly been accepted by Consensus
and Tranquillity.

After that, Samuel had immersed his mentality with Consensus, allowing
his worries and tension to dissipate among his fellows. Sympathy for
Edenists was so much more than a simple expression of compassion; with
affinity he could feel it reaching into his mind, warmth and light
dispelling the accumulation of icy shadows that were fears legacy. No
longer alone. Floating in a buoyant sea of welcome understanding. His
thoughts began to flow in more regular patterns, and with that state
achieved his body quietened. A sense of wellbeing claimed him; sharing
himself with Consensus, entwined with the billions living contentedly
above Jupiter, sporting with the voidhawks, he became whole again.

<< Yet this is the time we need you most, >>sub-Consensus replied. << You
have proved how valuable you are. Your skills are essential to this
crisis. >>

<< I know. And if Im needed for another assignment, Ill go. But I think
after this, its time I found a new career. Fifty-eight years of one
thing is enough, even for a low-stress job. >>

<< We understand. There is no immediate field assignment awaiting you. We
would like you to resume the observation of Dr Mzu for the time being. >>

<< I think thats a formality now. >>

<< Yes. But it will help to have you there in person. You have proved
your worth to Monica Foulkes, she trusts you, and it is her report that
will influence the Duke more than anything, and through him, the King. In
this affair we must reassure the Kingdom we are playing fair. >>

<< Of course. Our alliance is a remarkable achievement, even in these
circumstances. >>

<< Quite. >>

<< Ill stay with Mzu. >>

<< Thank you. >>

Samuel used his affinity to stay in communication with the voidhawk
escort, so he could borrow the image of Jupiter from their sensor
blisters. It was a much more satisfying view than the AV projection of
Lady Macbeths sensor array. He watched their approach to Tranquillity,
awed by the giant habitat, and not a little disconcerted by its
star-jumping capability. It was so strange seeing it here, a familiar
place, in a familiar location; but the two didnt belong together. He
smiled at his own discomfort.

You look happy, Monica said gruffly.

They had taken acceleration couches slightly apart from Mzu and the
Beezling survivors; the two groups still not quite trusting each other.
During the flight theyd been formal and polite, nothing more.

Samuel waved at the lounges AV pillar with its moir sparkle, which was
also showing the approach. I rather like the idea of thwarting Capone in
such a fashion. A habitat that can perform a swallow manoeuvre! Whod
have thought it? Well, a Saldana did, obviously. I doubt many others
would.

I didnt mean that, Monica said. You were happy the moment we arrived
here, and youve been getting happier ever since. Ive been watching you.

Coming home is always comforting.

Its more than that, its like youve mellowed out.

I have. Communion with my people and Consensus always does that. Its a
valuable psychological relief. I dont relish being apart from it for so
long.

Oh God, here we go again, more propaganda.

Samuel laughed. They might not have affinity, but he knew her well enough
by now that it almost didnt make any difference. A pleasant revelation
when dealing with an Adamist, let alone an ESA operative. Im not trying
to convert you, Im just saying its good for me. As you noticed.

Monica grunted. You ask me, its a weakness. Youre dependent, and that
cant be good in our profession. People should be capable of acting by
themselves without any hang ups. If I get wound up, I just run a stim
program.

Ah yes, the natural human method of dealing with stress.

No worse than yours. Faster and cleaner, too.

There are many ways of being human.

Monica stole a glance over at Mzu and Adul, still resentful at what
theyd all been through. Inhuman, as well.

I think shes realized her folly. Thats good. Its a sign of maturity
to learn from ones mistakes, especially after living with them for so
long. She may yet make a positive contribution to our society.

Maybe. But as far as Im concerned, shell need watching till the day
she dies. And even then Id be none too sure, shes that tricky. I still
think the First Admiral was wrong, we should have zero-taued the lot of
them.

Well rest easy; Ive already told Consensus Ill continue watching over
her. Im too old and jaded for another active assignment. Once this
crisis is concluded Ill move on to something else. I always rather
fancied wine growing; fine wine, of course. The kind of vintage that
would satisfy the real oenophile. After all, Ive tasted enough rubbish
while Ive travelled round the Confederation. Some of our habitats have
superb vineyards, you know.

Monica gave him a single surprised look, then snorted in amusement.
Exactly who are you trying to fool?



It certainly wasnt a heros welcome. Only Collins bothered to report
that the Lady Macbeth had docked, and they did it in a tone which
suggested Joshua was slinking back home.

Five serjeants greeted Mzu and the Beezling survivors, escorting them to
their new quarters. They werent under arrest, Tranquillity explained,
speaking through the constructs; but it laid down the guidelines for
their residence quite austerely. A few friends were waiting for the crew
in the bays reception compartment. Dahybi and Beaulieu vanished off with
them, heading for a bar. Sarha and Ashly took a commuter lift together.
Two deputy managers from the Pringle Hotel greeted Shea and Kole,
ushering them away to their rooms.

That left Joshua with Liol to take care of. He wasnt entirely sure what
to do about that. They were still orbiting round each other, though it
was a closer orbit now. A hotel was out, too cold, Liol was family after
all. He just wished theyd managed to sort out the problem of Lady Mac
and Liols gung-ho claim. Though his brother had definitely become more
conciliatory as the flight progressed. A good sign. It looked as though
Liol would have to share his apartment. Well, at least hed understand
bachelor mess.

But as soon as Joshua air-swam out from their airlock tube, Ione was in
front of him, toes pressed with ballerina grace on the compartments
stikpad. Doubts about Liol vanished. She was wearing a simple maroon
polka-dot summer dress, ruffed gold-blond hair floating daintily. It made
her seem girlish and elegant all at once. The sight of her like that
summoned up memories warmer than any neural nanonics catalogued
recollections could ever be.

She grinned knavishly, and held out both hands. Joshua caught hold and
let her gently secure him. They kissed, a tingle lost somewhere between
just good friends and old lovers. Well done, she whispered.

Thanks, I . . . He frowned when he saw who was waiting behind her.
Dominique: dressed in a tight sleeveless black leather T-shirt that was
tucked into white sports shorts. All curves and blatant athleticism. As
overt as Ione was demure.

Joshua, darling! Dominique squealed happily. My God, you look so
divine in a shipsuit. So well packaged. What can those naughty designers
have been thinking of?

Er, hello, Dominique.

Hello? She pouted with tragic disappointment. Come here, gorgeous.

Arms that were disproportionately strong wrapped round him. Wide lips
descended happily, a tongue wriggling into his mouth. Hair and pheromones
tickled his nose, making him want to sneeze.

He was too embarrassed to resist. Then she stiffened suddenly. Oh wow,
theres two of you.

The embrace was broken. Dominique stared hungrily behind him, long fronds
of blond hair writhing about.

Um, this is my brother, Joshua mumbled.

Liol gave her a languid grin, and bowed. It was a good manoeuvre
considering he wasnt anchored to a stikpad. Liol Calvert, Joshs bigger
brother.

Bigger. Dominiques eyes reflected slivers of light like coquettish
diamonds.

In some way he couldnt quite work out, Joshua was no longer between the
two of them.

Welcome to Tranquillity, Dominique purred.

Liol took a hand gently and kissed her knuckles. Nice to be here. It
looks spectacular so far.

A small groan of dismay rumbled up from Joshuas throat.

Theres plenty more to see, and it gets a whole lot better. Dominiques
voice became so husky it was almost bass. If you want to risk it, that
is.

Im just a simple boy from a provincial asteroid; of course Im looking
forward to the delights of the big bad habitat.

Oh, we have several bad things youll never find in your asteroid.

I can believe it.

She crooked a finger in front of his nose. This way.

The two of them levitated out of the hatch together.

Humm. Ione smiled with sly contentment. Eight seconds total; thats
pretty fast even for Dominique.

Joshua looked back from the hatch to her amused blue eyes. He realized
they were alone. Oh, very neat, he remarked admiringly.

Lets just say, I had a premonition they might hit it off.

Shell eat him alive. You know that, dont you?

You never complained.

How did you know about him?

While you were on your approach flight I was busy assimilating memories
from the serjeants. The two that are left, anyway. You had a hell of a
time.

Yeah.

Youll do all right, you and Liol. Just a bit too similar for comfort at
the start, thats all.

Could be. He squirmed uncomfortably.

She rested a hand on each shoulder, smiling softly. But not identical.

There was nothing much said while they rode the commuter lift down the
spaceport spindle. Just looks and smiles. Shared knowledge of what was to
come when they got back to her apartment. Coming from shared relief that
theyd both survived, and maybe wanting a return to times past for the
reassurance that would bring. It wouldnt be the same, but it would still
be familiar. It wasnt until they got into a tube carriage that they
kissed properly. Joshua reached up to stroke her cheek.

Your hand, she exclaimed. A whole rush of noxious memories were
bubbling forth: the corridor in Ayacucho, Joshua on all fours in the
slush, his hand blackened and charred, the two girls clinging together,
whimpering, and the furious arab snarling then horrified as the serjeant
opened fire. The roar of bullets and stink of hot blood. Not a sensevise
shed accessed, remote and vaguely unreal; shed been a genuine witness
to the actual event and always would be.

Joshua took his hand away from her face as she gave it a concerned look.
A medical nanonic package had formed a thin glove to cover his fingers
and palm. Im okay. The navy medics matched and grafted some muscle
tissue; theyve had a lot of practice with this kind of injury. Itll be
okay in another week.

Good. She kissed the tip of his nose.

Youre worried about a couple of fingers; I was scared shitless about
Tranquillity. Jesus, Ione, youve no idea what it was like finding you
gone. I thought youd been possessed just like Valisk.

Her broad freckled face crinkled with mild bafflement. Humm,
interesting. I get surprised by other people being surprised. All right,
it could have been possession. But you of all people should have worked
it out. I as good as told you.

When?

The very first night we met. I said that grandfather Michael believed
that we would eventually encounter whatever the Laymil had come up
against. Of course, back then everyone thought it was an external threat,
which was a reasonable enough assumption. Unfortunately, that also meant
that Tranquillity was likely to be the first to confront it. Either wed
find it among the Ruin Ring, or it would return to Mirchusko, the last
place it had visited. Grandfather knew we probably wouldnt be able to
beat it with conventional weapons, he hoped wed discover what it was so
we could develop some kind of defence in time. But just in case . . .

He wanted to be able to run, Joshua concluded.

Yes. So he ordered a modification to the habitats genome.

And nobody realized? Jesus.

Why should they? Theres a ring of energy patterning cells around the
shell, at the end of the circumfluous sea. If you look at the habitat
from the outside, the ridge containing the water is actually a kilometre
wider than the sea itself. But whos going to measure?

Hidden in plain view.

Quite. Michael didnt see any reason to advertise the fact. Our royal
cousins know . . . I assume, anyway. The files are stored in the Apollo
Palace archives. It gives us the ability to jump away from trouble, a
long way away. I chose Jupiter this time, because we considered Jupiter
safe. But ultimately Tranquillity could jump across the galaxy in
thousand light-year swallows, and the possessed would never be able to
follow us. And if the crisis gets that bad, Ill do it.

Now I get it. Thats how you knew the Udats wormhole vector.

Yes.

When the tube carriage arrived at Iones apartment Joshua was feeling
comfort as much as excitement. Neither of them took the lead, asking or
pressing the other, they simply went to the bedroom because it was what
the moment had ordained. They both slipped out of their clothes, admiring
each other. Almost dreamily, Joshua tasted her breasts again, regretting
how long it had been. Both of them showed off the old skills, knowing
precisely what to do to each others flesh to invigorate and arouse.

Only once, when she knelt in front of him, did Ione speak. Dont use
your nanonics, she whispered. Her tongue licked along his cock, teeth
closing delicately on one ball. Not this time. This should be natural.

He agreed, complying, making the encounter raw, and relishing every
second of their performance. It was new. The big jelly-mattress bed was
the same, so were the positions they accomplished. This time, though,
they had honesty, openly celebrating the physical power they exerted over
each other. It was as emotionally satisfying as it was sensually
rewarding.

Afterwards they spent the night sleeping in each others arms, snuggled
up like childhood siblings. The loitering contentment made breakfast a
civilized meal. They wrapped themselves in huge house robes to sit at a
big old oak table in a room mocked up to resemble a conservatory. Palms,
ferns, and delecostas grew out of moss-coated clay pots, their
multiplying stems interlaced with broad iron trellises to produce verdant
walls. The illusion was almost perfect but for the small neon-bright fish
swimming past on the other side of the glass.

House chimps served them scrambled parizzat eggs, with English tea and
thick-cut toast. While they ate, they accessed various news broadcasts
from Earth and the ONeill Halo, following the Confederations response
to Capone, the build up of forces for the Mortonridge Liberation, rumours
of the possessed spreading among the asteroids, appearing in star systems
previously thought clean.

Quarantine busters, Ione said sharply at the item on Koblat being taken
out of the universe. The idiots in those asteroids are still letting
them dock. At this rate the Assembly will have to shut down
interplanetary flights as well.

Joshua looked away from the AV projection. It wont make any difference.

It will! They have to be isolated.

He sighed, regretful at how easily the mood had gone. Forgetting
everything for a day had been so comfortable. You dont understand. Its
like saying youll be safe if Tranquillity jumps across the galaxy where
the possessed cant find you. Dont you see, theyll always find you.
They are what you become. You, me, everyone.

Not everyone, Joshua. Laton mentioned some kind of journey through the
afterworld, he didnt believe hed be trapped in the beyond. The Kiint
have as good as admitted we dont all wind up there.

Good, build on that. Find out why.

How? She gave him a measured look. This isnt like you.

I think it is. I think it took that possessed to make me realize.

You mean that Arab in Ayacucho?

Yeah. No kidding, Ione, I was staring death and what comes after right
in the face. Bound to make you stop and wonder. You cant solve
everything with direct action. Thats what makes this Mortonridge
Liberation so ridiculous.

Dont I know it. That whole miserable campaign is nothing more than a
propaganda exercise.

Yeah. Though I expect the people they do de-possess will be grateful
enough.

Joshua! You cant have it both ways.

He grinned at her over the rim of a huge tea cup. Were going to have
to, though, arent we? There has to be some solution to satisfy both
sides.

Right, she said cautiously.


Chapter 05
==========


In any given month, there would be between two and seven armada storms
rampaging across Earths surface, a relentless assault theyd persevered
with for over five hundred years. Like so many things, their name had
become everyday currency. Few knew or cared about its origin.

It had begun with chaos theory: the soundbite assertion that one
butterfly flapping its wings in a South American rain forest would start
a hurricane in Hong Kong. Then in the Twenty-first Century came cheap
fusion, and mass industrialisation; entire continents elevated themselves
to Western-style levels of consumerism within two decades. Billions of
people found themselves with the credit to buy a multitude of household
appliances, cars, exotic holidays; they moved into new, better, bigger
homes, adopting lifestyles which amplified their energy consumption by
orders of magnitude. Hungry to service their purchasing power, companies
built cities of new factories. Consumer and producer alike pumped out
vast quantities of waste heat, agitating the atmosphere beyond the
worst-case scenarios of most computer models.

It was after the then largest storm in history raged across the Eastern
Pacific in early 2071 that a tabloid newscable presenter said it must
have taken a whole armada of butterflies flapping their wings to start
such a brute. The name stuck.

The storm which had swept up from mid-Atlantic to swamp New York was
ferocious even by the standards of the Twenty-seventh Century. Its
progress had been under observation for hours by the arcologys anxious
weather defence engineers. When it did arrive, their response systems
were already on line. It looked as though a ragged smear of night was
sliding across the sky. The clouds were so thick and dense no light could
boil throughout to illuminate their underbellyuntil the lightning began.
Then the rotund tufts could sometimes be distinguished, streaked with
leaden grey strata as they undulated overhead at menacing speed. The
energy levels contained within would prove fatal for any unprotected
building. Consequently, the ability to deflect or withstand the storms
was the prime requirement of any design brought before the New York civil
engineering review board for a building permit. It was the one criterion
which could never be corroded by backhanders or political pressure.

The tip of every megatower was crowned with high-wattage lasers, whose
beams were powerful enough to puncture the heart of the heavy clouds.
They etched out straight channels of ionized air, cajoling the lightning
to discharge directly into the superconductor grids masking the tower
structure. Every tower blazed like a conical solar flare above the dome
residents, spitting out residual globules of violet plasma.

Amid them fell the rain. Fist-sized drops hurled out by a furious wind to
hammer against the domes. Molecular binding force generators were
switched on to reinforce the transparent hexagons against a kinetic
fusillade which had the force to abrade raw steel.

The noise from this barrage of elements drummed through the dome to shake
the gridwork of carbotanium struts supporting the metro transit rails.
Most above-ground traffic had shut down. Right across the arcology,
emergency crews were on full standby. Even the shield of lasers and
superconductors were no guarantee against power spikes in such
conditions. In such times, sensible people went home or to bars, and
waited until sharp slivers of pewter light started to carve up the
clouds, signalling the end of the deluge. A time when fear was
heightened. When more primitive thoughts were brought to the fore.

A good time. Useful.

Quinn looked up at the old building which was home to the High Magus of
New York.

Under cover of the storm, sect members were piling out of the vans behind
him. Only ten possessed so far: a manageable number for what he had in
mind. The rest, the acolytes and initiates, followed obediently, in awe
of the apostles of evil who now commanded them.

Faith, Quinn mused, was a strange power. They had committed their lives
to the sect, never questioning its gospels. Yet in all of that time, they
had the reassurance of routine, the notion that Gods Brother would never
actually manifest himself. The bedrock of every religion, that your God
is a promise, never to be encountered in this life, this universe.

Now the souls were returning, owning the power to commit dark miracles.
The acolytes had fallen into stupefaction rather than terror, the last
doubt vanquished. Condemned as the vilest outcasts, they now knew theyd
been right all along. That they were going to win. Whatever they were
ordered to do, they complied unquestioningly.

Quinn motioned the first team forward. Led by Wener, the three eager
acolytes scampered down a set of steps at the base of the wall, and
clustered round the disused basement door at the bottom. A codebuster
block was applied, then a programmable silicon probe was worked expertly
into the crack between the door and the frame. The silicon flexed its way
under the ageing manual bolts, then began to reformat its shape, pushing
them back. Within thirty seconds, the way in was open. No alarms, and no
give away use of energistic power.

Quinn stepped through.

The difference between the headquarters and the dingy centre on
Eighty-Thirty street surprised even Quinn. At first he even thought he
might have the wrong place, but Dobbie, who now possessed magus Garths
body, reassured him this was indeed where they should be. The corridors
and chambers were an inverse mirror of the Vaticans splendour. Rich
fittings and extravagant artwork, but sybaritic rather than warmly
exquisite, celebrating depravity and pain.

Fuck, look at this place, Wener muttered as they marched down one of
the corridors. Sculptures took bestiality as their theme, featuring both
mythical and xenoc creatures, while paintings showed the saintly and
revered from history being violated and sacrificed on the altars of the
Light Bringer.

You should take a good look, Quinn said. Its yours. Those hours
ripping off citizens and pushing illegals on the street, that paid for
all this. You live in shit, so the High Magus can live like a Christian
bishop. Nice, isnt it.

Wener and the other acolytes glowered round at the perverse grandeur,
envious and angry. They split up, as arranged. One of the possessed
leading each group of acolytes, securing the exits and strategic areas,
the weapons cache. Quinn went straight for the High Magus. Three times,
he encountered acolytes and priests scurrying along the corridors. They
were all given the same simple choice: Follow me, or be possessed.

They took one look at the black robe, listening to the voice whispering
out of the seemingly empty hood, and capitulated. One of them even gave a
mad little laugh of relief, a strong sense of vindication flooding his
mind.

The High Magus was taking a bath when Quinn strode into his quarters. It
could have been the penthouse of some multistellar corporation president,
certainly there was little evidence of idolatrous worship amongst the
opulence. Much to Weners disappointment he didnt even have naked
servant girls to wash him. Slimline domestic mechanoids stood quietly
among the white and blue furnishings. His one concession to turpitude
appeared to be the goblet he was drinking a seventeen-year-old red wine
out of, its vulvic influences impossible to ignore. Islands of lime-green
bubbles drifted round his round frame, giving off a scent of sweet pine.

He was already frowning as Quinn glided over the gold-flecked marble to
the sunken bath, presumably forewarned by the failure of his neural
nanonics. His eyes widened at the invasion, then narrowed as the
eccentric delegation stared down at him.

Youre a possessed, he said directly to Quinn.

There was no panic in the mind of the High Magus, which surprised Quinn,
if anything the old man appeared curious. No, I am the Messiah of our
Lord.

Really?

The mocking irony of the tone caused the hem of Quinns robe to stir.
You will obey me, or I will have your fat shit body possessed by someone
more worthy.

More compliant, you mean.

Dont fuck with me.

I have no intention of fucking with you or anyone else.

Quinn was puzzled by this whole exchange. The original calmness he could
sense in the High Magus was slowly replaced by weariness. The High Magus
took another sip of the wine.

Im here to bring Night to the Earth as Our Lord bids, Quinn said.

He bids nothing of the sort, you pathetic little prick.

Quinns ashen face materialized to thrust out of his hood.

The High Magus laughed out loud at the shock and anger he saw there, and
committed suicide. Without any noise or hysterics, his body froze, then
slowly slithered down the side of the bath. It rolled to one side, and
floated inertly on the surface, white bloated rims of fat bobbing among
the green bubbles. The wine goblet sank, a red stain marking where it had
vanished.

What are you doing? Quinn shouted at the departing soul. He sensed a
final sneer as the retreating wisps of energy evaporated amid dimensional
folds. His claw hands shot out of the voluminous sleeves, as if to pull
the essence of the High Magus back to face judgement. Shit! he gasped.
The magus must have been demented. Nobody. Nobody went into the beyond,
not now they knew for sure what awaited them there.

Asshole, Wener grunted. Along with the other acolytes, he was perturbed
by the death. Trying not to show it.

Quinn knelt down at the side of the bath, searching the corpse with eyes
and eldritch senses for the mechanism of its demise. There were the usual
weapons implants, he could perceive those all right, hard splinters among
the softer grain of organic matter, even the neural nanonics were
discernible. But Quinns energistic power had nullified them. What then?
What instrument could effect an instantaneous and painless suicide? And
more curiously, why was the High Magus equipped with it?

He straightened slowly, retracting his head and arms back within his
cloaks veil of night. It doesnt matter, he told his agitated
followers. Gods Brother knows how to deal with traitors, the beyond is
not a refuge for those who fail Him.

A dozen heads nodded in eager acceptance before him. Now go and bring
them to me, he said.

The acolytes scattered to do his bidding. They rounded up everyone in the
headquarters, and herded them into the temple. It was a vaulting chamber
nestled at the core of the Leicester, a baroque fabrication of gilded
pillars and crude cut stone blocks. Six giant pentagons were etched on
the curving ceiling, emitting a dull crimson glow. The grumble of the
storm was just audible, a bass reverberation sneaking through the
Leicester to give the floor a faint vibration.

Quinn stood beside the altar as the captives were ushered up to him one
at a time. Every time, he repeated the simple choice of futures: follow
me, or be possessed. Merely claiming you would submit was no use. Quinn
interrogated their innermost beliefs and fears before passing his final
decree. He wasnt surprised by how many failed. Inevitably, this far up
the sect hierarchy, they had grown soft. Still evil, still exploiting the
soldiers below them, but not for the right reasons. Maintaining their own
status and comforts had evolved into their dominant urge, not a
willingness to further the cause of the Light Bringer. Traitors.

He made them suffer for their crime. Over thirty were chained to the
altar and vanquished. By now he had become proficient in opening a
fissure back into the beyond; but more importantly hed learned how to
impose his own presence around the opening, valiantly guarding the
gateway from the unworthy. Even in their utter desperation for escape,
many souls turned aside from such a custodian. Those who did emerge
conformed to Quinns ideal. Nearly all of them had been sect members
while they were alive.

He gathered them together after the ceremony, explaining what Gods
Brother had decided for them. We need more than one arcology to bring
Night to this world, he told them. So Im leaving you this one for
yourselves. Dont piss this opportunity away. I want you to take it over,
but carefully, not like the way the possessed do on other planets, even
Capone. Those dickheads just rush up and head butt every town they come
across. And each time, the cops swoop down and pick them off. This time
its gonna be different. Youve got the acolytes worshipping the ground
you shit on. Use them. Moving around is what lets those fucking AIs sniff
you out. You mess with processors and power cables just by being near
them. So dont go near them. Stay in the sect centres and get the
acolytes to bring people to you.

Which people? Dobbie asked. I understand how we dont gotta move
about. But, shit, Quinn, theres over three hundred million people in New
York. The acolytes cant bring them all to us.

They can bring the ones that count, the police captains and technical
guys, the ones gonna cause you grief. Or at least knock them out, stop
them from reporting that youve arrived in town. Thats all I want from
you right now. Get yourselves established. Theres a sect centre in every
dome, take them over and hole up there for a while. Live like a fucking
king, Im not saying dont enjoy yourself. But I want you ready, I want
you to build up a coven of possessed in each dome. Loyal ones, you all
know how fucking important discipline is. Were going strategic. Learn
where the major fusion generators are, hunt down the fresh water
stations, and the sewage plants, see which intersections the transport
system depends on, track down critical nodes in the communication net.
The acolytes will know all this crap, or they can find out. Then when I
give the word, you smash each of those sites into lava. You paralyse the
whole fucking arcology with terrorism, bring it to its knees. That way
the cops wont be able to organize any resistance when we emerge to claim
glory for Him. You come out into the open and start possessing others,
and you turn them loose. Nobody can run, theres nowhere to go, no
outside. Possessed always win on asteroids, this is no different, just
bigger, is all.

The new possessed, they wont worship Gods Brother, someone said. We
can choose a few who will to start with, but if we turn them loose,
theres no way millions of them is going to do like we say.

Of course not, Quinn said. Not at first, anyway. They have to be
forced into this, like I did to Nyvan. Havent you worked it out yet?
Whats going to happen to an arcology with three hundred million
possessed living in it?

Nothing, Dobbie said in puzzlement. It wont work.

Right, Quinn purred. Nothings going to work. Im going to visit as
many arcologies as I can, and Im going to seed all of them with
possessed. And theyre all going to collapse, because energistic power
breaks the machinery. The domes wont be able to hold off the weather any
more, there isnt going to be any food, or water. Nothing. Not even forty
billion possessed wishing at once are going to be able to change that.
Theyll shift Earth into another realm, but it still wont make any
difference. Just being somewhere else isnt going to put food on the
table, wont restart the machines. Thats when it will happen. The
revelation that they have nowhere else to turn. Our Lord will have won
their minds. He lifted his hands, and allowed a pallid smile to show
from his hood. Forty billion possessors, and the forty billion they
possess. Eighty billion souls screaming into the Night for help. Dont
you see? Its a cry so strong, so full of anguish and fear, that it will
bring Him. Finally, He will emerge from the Night, bringing light to
those who have come to love Him. Quinn laughed at the astonishment on
their faces, and dark delight in their minds.

How long? Dobbie asked avidly. How long we gotta wait?

A month, maybe. Itll take me a while to visit all the arcologies. But
Ill penetrate them all in the end. Wait for my word. The silhouette of
his robe began to fade. Outlines of the furniture behind him started to
show through. Then he was gone. A cold breeze drifted across the chamber,
perturbing the shallow gasps of consternation that echoed from the
dismayed disciples.



The Mindori approached Monterey at a steady half gee acceleration. Two
hundred kilometres ahead, the asteroids features were resolving,
crumpled dust-grey rock speared by metallic spires and panels. It was
surrounded by a swarm of pearl-white specks that flashed and glinted in
the tenacious sunlight. The Organization fleet: over six hundred Adamist
warships floating in attendance while small service craft flitted among
them. Each one a unique knot in Rocio Condras distortion field.

Gliding among them were the more subtle interference patterns of other
distortion fields. Valisks hellhawks were here. Rocio called out in
welcome. Those who bothered to acknowledge his arrival were subdued. The
emotional content simmering within most of his fellows was one of
grudging acceptance. Rocio accepted it reluctantly. It was what hed been
expecting.

<< Glad to see you found your way back to us, >>Hudson Proctor said. <<
What have you got? >>

The affinity link provided Rocio an opening to the mans eyes. He was in
one of the docking ledge lounges, overlooking the pedestals where several
hellhawks were perched. The room had been altered into an executive-style
office. Kiera Salter was sitting at a broad desk, her head coming up to
give him a hard, enquiring stare.

<< Deadnight kids, >>Rocio said. << I havent told them Valisk has gone.
>>

<< Good, good. >>

The Organization hasnt got any real use for that kind of waster trash,
Kiera said as Hudson repeated his silent conversation. Dock here and
disembark them. Theyll be dealt with appropriately.

<< And what about us? >>Rocio asked mildly. << What do the hellhawks do
now? >>

Ill have you assigned to fleet support duties, Kiera said impassively.
Capone is preparing another invasion. The hellhawks are becoming
essential to ensure viability.

<< I dont wish to fly combat duties any more, thank you. This starship
is proving an excellent host for my soul, I have no intention of
endangering it, especially now that you have no reserve body for me to
inherit >>.

Kieras answering smile portrayed regret. It wasnt an emotion Hudson
relayed via affinity, keeping the exchange scrupulously neutral.

Im afraid were effectively on a war footing, Kiera said. Which
means, that wasnt a request.

<< Are you trying to order me? >>

Im offering you one simple choice. You do as I tell you, or you fuck
off back to the Edenists right now. You know why that is? Because were
the only two who can feed you. I am now in full command of the only
possessed-owned nutrient supply in this star system. Me, not Capone and
the Organization, me. If you want to prevent that excellent host of yours
from expiring from malnutrition, you do exactly what I ask, and in return
youll be permitted to dock and ingest as much of that goo as you can
hold. No one else can provide you with that, non-possessed asteroids will
blow you away with their SD platforms before you get within a hundred
kilometres. Only the Edenists can supply you. And theyve got their
price, too, as Im sure theyve told you. If you cooperate with them,
itll be to help understand the nature of the interface with the beyond.
Theyll find out how to banish us. You and I will both be zapped back
into that infernal oblivion. So decide, Rocio; where your loyalty lies,
who youre going to fly for. Im not asking for you and me to be friends,
I want to know if youll obey, thats all. And you will tell me now.

Rocio opened his affinity to converse with the other hellhawks. << Is
this what she holds over us? >>

<< Yes, >>they answered. << There is no third alternative that we can
see. >>

<< This is monstrous. Im happy with this form. I dont want to risk it
in Capones egotistical conquests. >>

<< Then protect it, you pitiful bastard, >>Etchells said. << Stop whining
and fight for what you believe in. Some of you are so pathetic, you dont
deserve what youve got >>.

Rocio remembered Etchells, always eager to intercept the voidhawks
observing Valisk. When Capone had first approached Kiera for help, hed
been excited and anxious to become involved in the conflict.

<< Piss off, you fascist bigot. >>

<< A coward, and a way with words, >>Etchells retorted. << No wonder
youre so insecure. >>

Rocio closed his affinity with the offensive hellhawk. << Ill dock at
Monterey and offload the passengers, >>he told Hudson and Kiera. << What
kind of fleet support are you proposing? >>

Kieras smile lacked grace. While the fleet is here, all hellhawks are
on a rota to interdict the spy globes and stealthed bombs. The voidhawks
have just about given up that nonsense, but theyre still probing our
defences, so we have to remain vigilant. Apart from that, theres also
some communication duties, VIP flights and collecting cargo from
asteroids. Nothing too demanding.

<< And when Capone finds a new planet to invade? >>

You fly escort for the fleet, and then you help them eliminate the
target worlds Strategic Defence network.

<< Very well. I will be docking in another eight minutes, please have a
pedestal ready to receive me. >>Rocio abandoned Hudson Proctors mind,
and analysed what had been said. The situation was almost what hed been
expecting. Controlling the supply of nutrient fluid was the only
practical way of binding the hellhawks to the Organization. What he
hadnt predicted was Kiera still being in charge. Shed obviously come to
the same conclusion about coercion.

A few queries to a couple of friendlier hellhawks, and he found that
Etchells had visited most of the asteroid settlements in the New
California system, blasting their nutrient production machinery. Kiera
had ordered the flight, and Hudson had been on board to make sure
everything ran smoothly. Kiera and the Organization were still separate.
She was using her control over the hellhawks to maintain her status as a
power player. Scheming little bitch. And it would be the hellhawks who
paid for that status.

Rocios ersatz beak parted slightly. Even though he couldnt manage a
modestly contented smile any more, the intent was there. Forced obedience
always generated discontent. Allies wouldnt be hard to find. He
abandoned his favoured bird-image just as he slipped round Montereys
counter-rotating spaceport. The Mindori settled its hull on one of the
docking ledge pedestals, and gratefully received the hose nozzles probing
its underbelly. Muscle membranes contracted round the seal rings, and the
thick nutrient fluid pulsed its way up into the nearly-depleted reserve
bladders. The whole process served to emphasise just how vulnerable the
giant bitek starship was. After such a long flight, Rocio was enduring a
strong subconscious pressure to ingest again, and he had absolutely no
control over the substance pumped along the pipes. Kiera could be giving
him anything, from water to an elaborate poison. It tasted fine, to his
limited internal sense and filter glands, but he could never be quite
sure. His plight was intolerable. So what? he asked himself, bitterly.
Blackmail always was.

The rebellion began at once. Rocio ordered his bitek processor array to
open a channel into the asteroids communication network. Access to any
defence-critical system was denied; the Organization had protected its
electronic architecture as thoroughly as the New California defence force
it had usurped. However, that left a lot of civil memory cores and
sensors to access. He began to analyse what information he was permitted,
and hooked in to various cameras to look round.

A large bus trundled over the rock ledge, its flaccid elephant-trunk
airlock tube snuggling up to the Mindoris life support section. Inside
the hellhawk, the Deadnight kids raced through their cabins, snatching up
their bags. A long, agitated queue formed outside the main airlock hatch.
Choi-Ho and Maxim Payne stood at the end, smiling placidly.

When the hatch swung open amid a hiss of white vapour, the kids let out a
collective gasp of delight. Kiera herself was waiting for them. Gorgeous
body clad in a small scarlet dress, hair tumbling over her honey-coloured
shoulders. And that mesmerising smile every bit as bright in real life as
it was in the recording. They filed past her in a numb daze, eyes wide
with awe as she said hello to each and every one of them. All she got was
a few mumbled words in return.

That was easy enough, she said to Choi-Ho and Maxim at the end. We had
a couple of flights end in riots when they realized they werent at
Valisk. For no-hopers, they can be vicious little shits. There was a lot
of damage, and its hard getting replacement components for these life
support modules.

So what do we do now? Maxim asked.

I always need good officers. Or you can join the Organization if you
like. Capone is keen to recruit soldiers to enforce his rule down on the
planet. Youll be on the cutting edge of his empire, she said sweetly.

Im good at what I do now, Choi-Ho said levelly. Maxim quickly agreed.

Kiera observed their minds. There was a tang of resentment, of course,
there always was. But theyd capitulated. All right, youre in. Now
lets get these loser brats into the asteroid. They wont be suspicious
if we stay with them.

She was right. Her presence alone was enough to fool the besotted
Deadnights, none of them ever questioning why the bus windows were
blanked out. It wasnt until they walked through the next set of airlocks
that suspicions started to bubble up. They were all from asteroid
settlements, and the equipment here was very similar to what they thought
theyd left behind. Habitats were supposed to be different, devoid of
this many mechanical contrivances. With the elder ones slightly puzzled
now, they trooped into the main arrivals hall. The Organization gangsters
were waiting. It only took two acts of violence against the bravest
rebels to quell any further resistance. They were quickly segregated and
classified according to the charts Leroy and Emmet had provided.

Amid a welter of tearful and frightened crying, individuals were hauled
off into the corridors. As the Organization was still very male
dominated, the older boys were all taken down to Patricia Mangano and
imminent possession by new soldiers. With them went the less attractive
girls. Prettier girls were dispatched to the brothel where they would
service the Organizations soldiers and non-possessed followers. The
children (and definition was difficult, puberty plus a couple of years
appeared to be the deciding factor) were flown down to the planet, where
Leroy paraded them in front of the rover reporters, claiming their
salvation from Deadnight as more humanitarian charity on Als behalf. The
distorted image of a weeping seventeen-year-old girl being shoved along
by a machine-gun toting gangster in a brown pinstripe suit vanished from
the processor blocks screen in a hail of static.

I cant find any further working cameras in that section, Rocio
announced. Would you like me to return to the arrivals hall?

Jed had to work hard against his tightening throat muscles. No. Thats
enough. When the hellhawk possessor had shown them the first pictures
snatched from cameras, Jed had wanted to scramble out of their cramped
refuge. Kiera was actually on board! A mere thirty metres away from him.
Hed suddenly wondered what the hell he was doing, crouched painfully
between cold, condensation-smeared tanks with loops of grimy cable wiping
his forehead. The sight of her brought back all the old rapture. And she
was smiling. Kiera would make the angels envious of her beauty and
compassion.

Then he heard bonkers Gerald reciting: Monster, monster, monster,
monster, like it was some kind of freaky spell.

Beth was rubbing the old farts arm, all full of sympathy, saying, Its
okay, youll get her back, you will.

Jed wanted to shout out how barmy the pair of them were. But by then the
last of the Deadnights were in the bus, and Kieras smile was gone. In
its place was a hideously alien expression of contempt verging on
cruelty. The words which came from her lips were cold and harsh. Rocio
had been telling the truth.

Despite the evidence, that lost part of Jeds heart had wanted to believe
in his divine saviour and her promises of a better world. Now he knew
that was gone. Worse than that, it had never existed. Even Digger had
been right. Bloody Digger, for Christs sake! He was just a dumb stupid
waster kid trying to score the ultimate escape trip from Koblat. If Beth
and the girls hadnt been in there with him, he knew he would have burst
into tears. For Jed, not even the scenes in the arrivals hall were as
horrific as that final moment when Kieras smile vanished.

By the time Rocio Condras face reappeared on the block, the girls were
sniffling quietly, arms around each other. Beth made no attempt to hide
the tears meandering down her cheeks. Gerald had shrunk back into his
usual uncommunicative self.

Im sorry, Rocio said. But I did suspect that something like this was
going to happen. If its of any comfort, I am in a similar position.

Similar? Beth grunted. Comfort? I knew some of those girls, damn you.
How can you compare what theyre going to go through with what youve got
to do? Thats not patronising, thats sickening.

They are being forced to prostitute themselves with men in order to
survive. I have to risk my life and that of my host in hostile combat
conditions if I wish to continue my existence in this universe. Yes, I
have to say there is similarity, whether you see it or not.

Beth glared at the processor block through her misery. Shed never felt
so low before, not even when those men had grabbed her that time when she
met Gerald.

So now what? Jed asked dolefully.

Im not certain, Rocio answered. Obviously, we must find a new source
of nutrient fluid for myself and those hellhawks that share my beliefs. I
shall have to gather a lot more information before that option opens
itself.

Do we have to stay in here the whole time?

No, of course not. There is no one inside the life support section, you
may come out now.

It took a hot, aggravating five minutes to wriggle free from the confines
of the cramped under-floor service ducts. Jed was the first to extricate
himself from the hatch in the washroom floor. He quickly helped the
others free. They wandered out into the central corridor, glancing about
anxiously, not quite believing Rocio when he said they were alone.

They stood in the big forward lounge, looking out of the long window at
the docking ledge. The row of pedestals stretched away, gradually curving
above them, silver mushrooms sprouting from the grizzled rock, each one
bathed in a pool of yellow light. But for three other docked hellhawks
suckling their nutrient fluid from the hoses, it could have been a
post-industrial wasteland. Some technicians were working on the cargo
cradles of one craft, but apart from that, nothing moved.

So we just wait, Beth said, flopping down into a settee.

Jed pressed his nose to the transparency, trying to see the rock wall at
the back of the ledge. Guess so.

Im hungry, Gari complained.

Then go eat, Jed said. Im not going to stop you.

Come with us.

He turned from the window, seeing his sisters apprehensive expression,
and smiled reassuringly. Sure, kid, no problem.

The galley was one compartment Rocio hadnt tried to modify with his
energistic imagination, leaving the contemporary metal and composite
surfaces undisturbed. However, theyd plainly been pillaged by some
passing barbarian army. A cascade of empty sachets were littering the
floor, stuck in place by treacle-like liquids. Storage cabinet doors
swung open, revealing empty spaces. The timer on an induction oven
bleeped away relentlessly.

A ten minute search turned up five cans of drinking chocolate, a sachet
of unhydrated oatmeal cakes, and a serve-3 pizza with extra anchovies.

Jed surveyed the cache with dismay. Oh Jeeze, theres nothing left to
eat. He knew what that meant, one of them would have to sneak into the
asteroid to find some supplies. Zero guesses whod get picked for that
doozy.



Jay woke up in a wonderfully soft bed, wrapped inside a smooth cocoon of
clean cotton sheets smelling faintly of lavender. It was that warm drowsy
state which always followed a really long, deep sleep. She squirmed round
a little, enjoying the contentment of being utterly at peace. Some small
object had managed to wedge itself under her shoulder, harder than the
luxurious pillow. Her hand closed round it, pulling it out. Coarse fur
tickled her fingers. Frowning, squinting she held up the . . . doll.
Tatty old thing. She smiled cosily, and put Prince Dell down beside her.
Snuggling into the mattress.

Her eyes flipped wide open. A fog of hoary light was curving round a pair
of plain navy-blue curtains. It illuminated a neat wooden room, with its
sloping ceiling supported by a scaffold of naked A-frame beams. The
tight-fitting wall boards had all been painted a silky green, bedecked
with picture frames that were mainly landscape watercolours, though there
were several sepia photos of people in history-text clothes. A glazed
pedestal washbasin with brass taps stood in the corner, a towel hanging
beside it. There was a wicker chair at the foot of the bed, with a pair
of fat cushions crammed into it. The sound of waves rolling gently onto a
beach could just be heard in the background.

Jay flung back the sheet and slithered down off the bed. Her feet touched
a warm carpet, and she padded over to the window. She lifted a corner of
the curtain, then pulled it wide open. The beach was outside; a fringe of
grass blending into white sands, followed by gorgeous turquoise water
stretching out to a mild horizon haze. A clear azure sky rose from the
other side of the haze, cut in half by that incredible curving line of
brilliant silver-white planets. She laughed in amazed delight. It was
real, really real.

The bedrooms door opened into the chalets hallway. Jay ran along it,
out onto the veranda. The hem of her nightie flapped around bare feet,
Prince Dell was clutched in one hand. Outside, the heat and salty
humidity gusted over her along with the intense sunlight. She flew down
the steps and onto the grass, dancing round and whooping. The sand was
hot enough to make her jump up and down before retreating back onto the
grass. She gave the glittering water an exasperated look. How lovely it
would have been to dive right in. Haile was going to adore this place.

Good morning to you, young Jay Hilton.

Jay jumped, and turned round. One of the purple globes she remembered
from last night was floating half a metre above her head. Her nose
wrinkled up in bemusement. It seemed to be the victim of a talented
graffiti artist whod inflicted two black and white cartoon eyes rimmed
with black-line eyebrows; more black lines defined a pug nose, while the
mouth was a single curve sealed by smile commas. What are you? she
asked.

Well, wadda yaknow, my names Mickey. Im a universal provider. But Im
a special one, coz Im all yours. The mouth jerked up and down in time
with its voice.

Oh yeah? Jay asked suspiciously. That silly face was far too happy for
her liking. What does a universal provider do, then?

Why, I provide, of course.

Youre a machine.

Guess so, it said with goofy pleasure.

I see. So what do you provide?

Whatever you want. Any material object, including food.

Dont be stupid. Youre tiny, what if I wanted a . . . a vac-train
carriage.

Why would you want one of those?

Jay sneered at it smugly. I just want one. Im proving a point.

The face lines squiggled their way into an expression of dozy obedience.
Oh. Okey-dokey, then. Its going to take about quarter of an hour to put
it together.

Sure, Jay sneered.

Hey! Thats got lots of complicated parts inside, you know.

Right.

If youd asked for something simple, I could provide straight away.

All right. I want the Diana statue from the Paris arcology. Thats just
a lump of carved rock.

Easy peasy.

Uh Jay managed to grunt.

Mickey zipped out over the beach, too fast for her to follow. She
swivelled, just in time to see it inflating equally fast. At ten metres
in diameter, its ridiculous face was suddenly not so pleasant and
harmless as it loomed above her. A pair of shoes began to ooze through
the bottom. They were as long as Jay was tall. Mickey started to rise up,
exposing legs, waist, torso . . .

The full fifteen metre height of the granite statue gazed out serenely
across the Kiint ocean. Pigeon droppings scarred its shoulders. Above
Dianas head, Mickey shrank back to its usual size and floated back down
to Jay. Its mouth line shifted up into feline gratification.

What have you done? Jay yelled.

Provided the statue. Wossamatter, wrong one?

No! Yes! She glanced frantically along the beach. There were figures
moving round outside the other chalets and big white clubhouse, but
fortunately none of them seemed to have noticed. Yet. Get rid of it!

Oh. Charming. Mickey inflated out again. Its hurt pout ominous on such
a scale. The statue was swallowed whole. The only memorial: a pair of
giant footprints in the sand.

Youre mad, Jay accused as it shrank once again. Utterly mad. They
should switch you off.

For what? it wailed.

For doing that.

Just doing what Im told, it grumbled. I suppose you want to cancel
the vac-train as well, now?

Yes!

You should make up your mind. No wonder they wont hand over my kind of
technology to the Confederation. Think of all the statues youd leave
lying round the place.

How do you do it, she asked sharply. How do you work? I bet youve
never even been to Earth, how do you know what Dianas statue looked
like?

Mickeys voice dropped back down to normal. The Kiint have this whopping
great central library, see. Theres no end of stuff stored in there,
including your art encyclopaedias. All Ive gotta do is find the template
memory.

And you make it inside you?

Small things, no problem. Im your man, just shout. The bigger stuff,
thats gotta be put together in a place like a high-speed factory. Then
when its done and polished they just ship it in through me. Simplisimo.

All right. Next question, who decided to give you that silly voice?

Whaddya mean, silly? Its magnifico.

Well, you dont talk like an adult, do you?

Ha, hark whos talking. Ill have you know, Im an appropriate companion
personality for a girl your age, young missy. We spent all night
ransacking that library to see what I should be like. You got any idea
what its like watching eight million hours of Disney AVs?

Thank you for being so considerate, Im sure.

What Im here for. Were partners, you and me. Mickeys smile perked up
again.

Jay folded her arms and fixed it with a stare. Okay, partner; I want you
to provide me with a starship.

Is this another of those point thingies?

Could be. I dont care what type of starship it is; but I want it to be
one I can pilot by myself, and it has to have the range to get me back to
the Confederation galaxy.

Mickeys eyes blinked slowly, as if lethargic shutters were coming down.
Sorry, Jay, it said quietly. No can do. I would if I could, honest,
but the boss says no.

Not much of a companion, are you.

How about a chocolate and almond ice cream instead? Big yummie time!

Instead of a starship. I dont think so.

Aww, go on. You know you want to.

Not before breakfast, thank you. She turned her back on it.

Okay. I know, how about a megalithic strawberry milkshake, with oodles
and oodles of . . .

Shut up. And youre not called Mickey, either. So dont pretend you
are. Jay smiled at the silence; imagining it must be contorting its
sketched face into hurt dismay. Her name was being called from the chalet.

Tracy Dean stood on the veranda, waving hopefully. She was dressed in a
pale lemon dress with a lace collar, its design obsolete but still
stylish. Jay walked back, aware that the provider machine was following.
The face wasnt a good idea, was it? Tracy said with dry amusement
after Jay climbed the steps to the veranda. Didnt think so. Not for
someone whos seen all you have. But it was worth a try. She sighed.
Program discontinued. There, its just an ordinary provider, now. And it
wont talk stupid anymore, either.

Jay glanced up at the purple sphere, which was now completely
featureless. I dont mean to be awkward.

I know, sweetie. Now come and sit down. Ive got some breakfast for you.

A white linen tablecloth had been spread over a small table beside the
weather-worn railings. It had Spanish pottery bowls with cereal and
fruit, one jug of milk, and another of orange juice. There was also a
teapot with a battered old strainer.

Twinings Ceylon tea, Tracy said happily as they sat down. Best you can
have for breakfast in my opinion. I became completely addicted to it in
the late Nineteenth Century, so I brought some back with me once. Now the
providers can synthesise the leaves for me. Id like to be all snobbish
and say that I can tell its not the same, but I cant. Well let it brew
for a while, shall we?

Yes, Jay said earnestly. If you like. There was something deliciously
fascinating about this old woman who had Father Horsts compassion and
Powel Mananis determination.

Have you never brewed tea in a pot before, young Jay?

No. Mummy always bought it in sachets.

Oh dear me. There are some things which the march of progress doesnt
improve, you know.

Jay poured some milk over the cereal bowl, deciding not to ask about the
strange-shaped flakes. One thing at a time. Do the Kiint live on all
these planets?

Ah, yes. I did promise Id explain things today, didnt I, sweetie?

Yes!

Such impatience. Where to start, though? Tracy sprinkled some sugar
onto her grapefruit, and sank a silver spoon into the soft fruit. Yes,
the Kiint live on all these planets. They built them, you know. Not all
at once, but they have been civilized for a very long time. One planet
couldnt possibly accommodate them all any more, just like there are too
many humans to live on Earth nowadays. So they learned how to extract
matter from their sun and condense it. Quite an achievement, actually,
even with their technology. The arc is one of the wonders of this galaxy.
Not just physically, culturally, too. All the species whove achieved FTL
starflight visit here eventually. Some that havent, too. Its the
greatest information exchange centre we know of. And the Kiint know of a
few, believe me.

The provider said there was a big library here.

It was being modest. You see, when youve got the technology to take
care of your every physical requirement, theres not much else you can do
but develop your knowledge base. So thats what they do. And its a big
universe to get to know. It keeps them occupied, and fulfils lifes basic
requirement.

Whats that?

To live is to experience, and experience is living. I had a lovely
little chuckle when the first Kiint ambassador from Jobis told the
Confederation they had no interest in starflight. Travel broadens the
mind, and heavens do they travel. They have this quite magical society,
you see, they spend their whole time developing their intellects. The
best way I can put it for you, is that wisdom is their equivalent of
money, thats what they pursue and hoard. Im generalising, of course. A
population as large as theirs is bound to have dissidents. Nothing like
our Edenist Serpents, of course; their disagreements are mostly
philosophical. But there are a few Kiint who turn their backs on their
own kind. Theres even a couple of planets in the arc they can go to
where theyre free of the central society.

Whatever faction they come from, theyre all very noble by our
standards. And Ill admit it leaves them superbly prepared to face
transcendence when their bodies die. But to be honest, that kind of
existence is rather boring for humans. I dont think well ever go quite
so far down that road. Different mental wiring, thankfully. Were too
impatient and quarrelsome. Bless us.

So you are really human then?

Oh yes, sweetie. Im human. All of us living here are.

But why are you here?

We work for the Kiint, helping them to record human history. All of us
take little unobtrusive jobs where we can get a good view of events. In
the old days it was as servants of lords and kings, or joining up with
nomads. Then when the industrial age started up we moved into the media
companies. We werent front line investigative reporters, we were the
office mundanes; but it meant we had access to an avalanche of
information most of which never made it into the official history books.
It was perfect for us; and we still mostly work in the information
industries today. Ill show you how to use the AV projector later if you
want, every broadcast humans make goes into the arcs library. That
always tickled me, if those desperate marketing departments only knew
just how wide an audience they really have.

Are the Kiint really that interested in us?

Us, the Tyrathca, the Laymil, xenocs youve never heard of. Theyre
fascinated by sentience, you see. Theyve witnessed so many self-aware
races dwindle away to nothing, or self-destruct. That kind of loss is
tragic for the races which succeed and prosper. Everybodys different,
you see, sweetie. Life alone is precious, but conscious thought is the
greatest gift the universe offers. So they try and study any entities
they find; that way if they dont survive their knowledge wont be
entirely lost to the rest of us.

How did you end up working for them?

The Kiint found Earth when they were exploring that galaxy about two and
a half thousand years ago. They took DNA specimens from a few people. We
were cloned from that base, with a few alterations.

Like what? Jay asked eagerly. This was a wonderful story, so many
secrets.

We dont age so quickly, obviously; and weve got a version of affinity;
little things like that.

Gosh. And youve been on Earth since you were born?

Since I grew up, yes. We had to be educated the Kiint way first. Their
prime rule in dealing with other species, especially primitive ones, is
zero intervention. They were worried that we might become too sympathetic
and go native. If we did that, wed introduce ideas that were wrong for
that era; I mean, think what would have happened if the Spanish Armada
was equipped with anti-ship missiles. Thats why they made us sterile,
too; it should help us remain impartial.

Thats horrid!

Tracy smiled blankly at the horizon. There are compensations. Oh
sweetie, if youd seen a fraction of what I have. The Imperial Chinese
dynasties at their height. Easter Islanders carving their statues.
Knights of armour battling for their tiny kingdoms. The Inca cities
rising out of jungles. I was a servant girl at Runnymede when King John
signed the Magna Carta. Then lived as a grandee noblewoman while Europe
was invigorated by the Renaissance. I waved from the harbour when
Columbus set sail across the Atlantic; and spat as Nazi tanks rolled into
Europe. Then thirty years later I stood on Cocoa Beach and cried when
Apollo 11 took off for the moon, I was so proud of what wed achieved.
And there I was in the spaceplane which brought Richard Saldana down to
Kulu. You have no idea how blessed my life has been. I know everything,
everything, humans are capable of. We are a good species. Not the best,
not by Kiint standards, but so much better than most. And wonderfully
unique. She sniffed loudly, and dabbed a handkerchief on her eyes.

Dont cry, Jay said quietly. Please.

Im sorry. Just having you here, knowing what you could accomplish if
you have the chance, makes this hurt so much harder. Its so bloody
unfair.

What do you mean? Jay asked. Seeing the old woman so upset was making
her nervous. Arent the Kiint going to let me go home?

Its not that. Tracy smiled bravely, and patted Jays hand. Its what
kind of home thatll be left for you. This shouldnt have happened, you
see. Discovering energistic states and what they mean normally comes a
lot later in a societys development. Its a huge adjustment for anybody
to make. Human-type psychologies need a lot of preparation for that kind
of truth, a generation at least. And thats when theyre more
sociologically advanced than the Confederation. This breakthrough was a
complete accident. Im terrified the human race wont get through this,
not intact. We all are, all the Kiint observers want to help, to point
the researchers in the right direction if nothing else. Our original
conditioning isnt strong enough to restrict those sort of feelings.

Why dont you?

Even if they allowed us, Id be no use. Ive been part of all our
history, Jay. Ive seen us evolve from dirty savages into a civilization
that has spread among the stars. More than anybody I know what we could
grow into if we just had the chance. And I have the experience to
intervene without anyone ever knowing theyd been guided. But at the most
crucial time of our social evolution, when that experience is utterly
vital, Ive got to stay here.

Why? Jay pleaded.

Tracys frail shoulders trembled from repressed emotion. Oh sweetie,
havent you worked out what this dreadful place is yet? Its a bloody
retirement home.



The view arrived suddenly. For over twenty minutes Louise had been
sitting in one of the lounges big chairs, its webbing holding her in the
deep hollow of cushioning. Her belly muscles were beginning to strain as
they were obliged to hold her in a curving posture. Then she felt a
slight trembling in the decking as the lift capsule was shunted onto the
tower rail. A tone sounded. Thirty seconds later they flashed out of the
Skyhigh Kijabe asteroid. There was a quick impression of soured-white
metal mountains, but they quickly shrank from sight overhead. Gentle
gravity relieved her muscles, and the webbing slackened.

Earth shone with a mild opalescent light below her. It was midday in
Africa, at the base of the tower, and the clouds were charging in from
the oceans on either side. There seemed to be a lot more of them than
there had been on Norfolk, although the Far Realm had been orbiting at a
much lower altitude. That might account for it. Louise couldnt be
bothered to find the correct meteorology files in her processor block,
and run a comparison program. The sight was there to enjoy not analyse.
She could actually see the giant white spirals spinning slowly as they
battered against each other. It must be a pretty impressive speed for the
movement to be visible from such a height.

Genevieve switched her webbing off, and glided over to the lounge window,
pressing herself against it. Its beautiful, she said. Her face was
flushed as she smiled back at Louise. I thought Earth was all rotten.

Louise glanced about, slightly worried by what the other passengers would
think of the little girls remark. With the quarantine, most of them must
be from Earth or the Halo. But nobody was even looking at her. In fact,
it seemed as though they were deliberately not looking. She went over to
stand beside Gen. I guess thats as wrong as everything else in the
school books.

The Halo was visible against the stars, a huge slender thread of stippled
light curving behind the planet, like the most tenuous of a gas-giants
rings. For five hundred and sixty-five years, companies and finance
consortiums had been knocking asteroids into Earth orbit. The process was
standardized now; first the large-scale mining of mineral resources,
hollowing out the habitation caverns, then the gradual build up of
industrial manufacturing stations as the initial resources were depleted
and the population switched to a more sophisticated economy. There were
nearly fifteen thousand inhabited asteroids already drifting along in
their common cislunar orbit, and new rocks were arriving at the rate of
thirty-five a year. Tens of thousands of inter-orbit craft swooped
between the spinning rocks, fusion exhausts tangling together in a single
scintilating nimbus. Every asteroid formed a tiny bulge in the loop,
wrapped behind a delicate haze of industrial stations.

Louise gazed at the ephemeral testament to astroengineering commerce.
More fragile than the bridge of heaven in Norfolks midsummer sky, but at
the same time, more imposing. The vista inspired a great deal of
confidence. Earth was strong, much stronger than shed realized; it
sprang from a wealth which she knew she would never truly comprehend.

If were safe anywhere, were safe here. She put her arm round Genevieve.
For once, contented.

Below the majesty of the Halo, Earth was almost quiescent by comparison.
Only the coastlines of North and South America hinted at the equal amount
of human activity and industry on the ancient planet. They remained in
darkness, awaiting the dawn terminator sliding over the Atlantic; but the
night didnt prevent her from seeing where people were. Arcologies blazed
across the land like volcanoes of sunlight.

Are they the cities? Genevieve asked excitedly.

I think so, yes.

Gosh! Why is the water that colour?

Louise switched her attention away from the massive patches of
illumination. The ocean was a peculiar shade of grey green, not at all
like the balmy turquoise of Norfolks seas when they were under Dukes
stringent white glare.

Im not sure. It doesnt look very clean, does it? I suppose that must
be the pollution we hear about.

A small contrite cough just behind them made both girls start. It was the
first time anyone apart from the stewards had even acknowledged they
existed. When they turned round they found themselves facing a small man
in a dark purple business suit. Hed already got some thin wrinkles on
his cheeks, though he didnt seem particularly old. Louise was surprised
by his height, she was actually an inch taller than him, and he had a
very broad forehead, as if his hair wouldnt grow properly along the top
of it.

I know this is rude, he said quietly. But I believe youre from
outsystem?

Louise wondered what had given them away. Shed bought the pair of them
new clothes in Skyhigh Kijabe, one-piece garments like shipsuits but more
elaborate, with pronounced pockets and cuffs. Other women were wearing
the fashion; so shed hoped they would blend in.

Yes, Louise said. From Norfolk, actually.

Ah. Im afraid Ive never tasted Norfolk Tears. Too expensive, even with
my salary. I was most sorry to hear about its loss.

Thank you. Louise kept her face blank, the way shed learned to do
whenever Daddy started shouting.

The man introduced himself as Aubry Earle. So this is your first visit
to Earth? he asked.

Yes, Genevieve said. We want to go to Tranquillity, but we cant find
a flight.

I see. Then this is all new to you?

Some of it, Louise said. She wasnt quite sure what Aubry wanted. He
didnt seem the type to befriend a pair of young girls. Not from
altruism, anyway.

Then allow me to explain what you are seeing. The oceans arent
polluted, at least not seriously; there was an extensive effort to clean
them up at the end of the Twenty-first Century. Their present colouring
comes from algae blooms. Its a geneered variety that floats on the top.
I think it looks awful, myself.

But its everywhere, Genevieve said.

Alas, yes. Thats our carbon sink these days. Earths lungs, if you
like. It performs the job once done by forests and grasslands. The
surface vegetation is not what it used to be, so Govcentral introduced
the algae to prevent us from suffocating ourselves. Actually, its a far
more successful example of terraforming than Mars. Though I would never
be so undiplomatic as to say that to a Lunar citizen. We now have less
carbon dioxide in our atmosphere than at any time in the last eight
hundred years. Youll be breathing remarkably clean air when you arrive.

So why do you all live in the arcologies? Louise asked.

Heat, Aubry said sadly. Do you know how much heat a modern industrial
civilization of over forty billion people generates? He gestured down at
the globe. That much. Enough to melt the polar ice and quicken the
clouds. Weve taken all the preventative measures we can, of course. That
was the original spur to build the orbital towers, to prevent spaceplanes
aerobraking and shedding even more heat into the air. But however
economic we are, we cant dissipate it at a rate thatll turn the clock
back. The old ocean currents have shut down, theres no ozone layer at
all. And that kind of ecological retro-engineering is beyond even our
ability. Were stuck with the current environment, unfortunately.

Is it very bad? Genevieve asked. What hed described sounded worse than
the beyond, though she thought the man didnt sound terribly upset by the
cataclysm.

He smiled fondly at the planet. Best damn world in the Confederation.
Though I expect everyone says that about their homeworld. Am I right?

I like Norfolk, Louise said.

Of course you do. But if I might make an observation, this is going to
be noisier than anything youve experienced before.

I know that.

Good. Take care down there. People arent likely to help you. Thats our
culture, you see.

Louise gave him a sideways look. Do you mean they dont like foreigners?

Oh no. Nothing like that. Its not racism. Not overtly, anyway. On Earth
everybody is a foreigner to their neighbour. Its because were all
squashed up so tight. Privacy is a cherished commodity. In public places,
people dont chat to strangers, they avoid eye contact. Its because
thats the way they want to be treated. Im really breaking taboos by
talking to you. I doubt any of the other passengers will. But Ive been
outsystem myself, I know how strange it all is for you.

Nobodys going to talk to us? Genevieve asked apprehensively.

Not as readily as I.

Thats fine with me, Louise said. She couldnt quite bring herself to
trust Aubry Earle. At the back of her mind was the worry that he would
volunteer to become their guide. It had been bad enough in Norwich when
shed depended on Aunt Celina; Roberto was family. Earle was a stranger,
one prepared to drop Earths customs in public when it suited him. She
gave him a detached smile, and led an unprotesting Gen away from the
window. The lift capsule had ten decks, and her standard-class ticket
allowed her into four of them. They managed to avoid Earle for the rest
of the flight. Though she realized he was telling the truth about
privacy. Nobody else talked to them.

The isolation might have been safer, but it made the ten hour trip
incredibly boring. They spent a long time watching the view through the
window as Earth grew larger, and talking idly. Louise even managed to
sleep for the last three hours, curling up in one of the big chairs.

She woke to Gen shaking her shoulder. They just announced were about to
reach the atmosphere, her sister said.

Louise combed some strands of hair from her face, and sat up. Other
passengers whod been dozing were now stirring themselves. She took the
hair clip off as she reorganized her mane, then fastened it up again.
First priority when they were down must be to get it washed. The last
time shed managed properly was back on Phobos. Maybe it was time for a
cut, a short style that was more manageable. Though the usual arguments
still applied: shed invested so much time keeping it in condition,
cutting it was almost a confession of defeat. Of course, back at
Cricklade shed had the time to groom herself every day, and had a maid
to help.

Whatever did I do all day back then?

Louise? Genevieve asked cautiously.

She raised an eyebrow at the girls tone. What?

Promise you wont get mad if I ask?

I wont get mad.

Its just that you havent said yet.

Said what?

Where were going after we touch down.

Oh. Louise was completely stumped. She hadnt even thought about their
destination. Getting away from High York and Brent Roi had been her
absolute priority. What she needed to do was find somewhere to stay so
she could think about what to do next. And without consulting her block
there was really only one city name from her ethnic history classes which
she was certain would still exist. London, she told Genevieve. Were
going to London.



The African orbital tower had been the first to be built, a technological
achievement declared the equal of the FTL drive by the Govcentral
committees and politicians whod authorized it. Typical self-aggrandising
hyperbole, but acknowledged to be a reasonable comparison none the less.
As Aubry Earle had said, it was intended to replace spaceplanes and the
enormously detrimental effect they were having on Earths distressed
atmosphere. By 2180 when the tower was finally commissioned (eight years
late), the Great Dispersal was in full swing, and the volume of
spaceplane traffic had become so injurious to the atmosphere that
meteorologists were worrying about elevating the armada storms to an even
greater level of ferocity.

The question became academic. Once the tower was on line, its cargo
capacity exceeded thirty per cent of the worlds spaceplane fleet.
Upgrades were being planned before the first lift capsule ran all the way
up to Skyhigh Kijabe. Four hundred and thirty years later, the original
slender tower of monocarbon fibre was now nothing more than a support
element threading up the centre of the African Tower. A thick grey pillar
dwindling off up to infinity, immune to the most punishing winds the
armada storms could fling at it. The outer surface was lined with
forty-seven magnetic rails, the structures maximum. It was now cheaper
to build new towers than expand it any further.

The lower five kilometres were the fattest section, providing an outer
sheath of tunnels to protect the lift capsules from the winds, enabling
the tower to remain operational in all but the absolutely worst weather
conditions. Exactly where the tower ended and the Mount Kenya station
started was no longer certain. With a daily cargo throughput potential of
two hundred thousand tonnes, and up to seventy-five thousand passengers,
the capsule handling infrastructure had moulded itself tumescently around
the base, a mountain in its own right. Eighty vac-train tunnels
intersected in the bedrock underneath it, making it the most important
transport nucleus on the continent.

To keep the passengers flowing smoothly, there were eighteen separate
arrival Halls. All of them followed the same basic layout, a long
marble-floored concourse with the exit doors from customs and immigration
rooms on one side, and lifts on the other, leading to the subterranean
vac-train platforms. Even if an arriving passenger knew exactly which
lift cluster they wanted, they first had to negotiate a formidable
barricade of retail stalls selling everything from socks to luxury
apartments. Keeping track of one individual (or a pair) amid the
perpetual scrum occupying the floor wasnt easy, not even with modern
equipment.

B7 left nothing to chance. A hundred and twenty GSDI field operatives had
been pulled off their current assignments to provide saturation coverage.
Fifty were allocated to Hall Nine, where the Kavanagh sisters were due to
disembark, their movements coordinated by an AI that was hooked into
every security sensor in the building. Another fifty were already on
their way to London within minutes of Louise saying that was her intended
goal. Twenty had been held in reserve in case of cockups, misdirection,
or good old fashioned acts of God.

The arrangements had caused more arguments among B7; all of the
supervisors remained extremely proprietorial when it came to their
respective territories. Southern Africa, in whose domain the Mount Kenya
station fell, disputed Western Europes claim that he should take
personal command of the surveillance. Western Europe counterclaimed that
as the tower station was just a brief stopover for the sisters, and the
whole operation was his anyway, he should have the necessary authority.
The other B7 supervisors knew Southern Africa, renowned for the tedious
minutiae of procedure worship, was just going through the motions.

Western Europe was given his way over the tower station, as well as
gaining concessions to steer the operation through whichever territory
the Kavanaghs roamed in their search for Banneth.

Southern Africa acceded to the decision, and withdrew testily from the
sensenviron conference. Smiling quietly at his inevitable victory,
Western Europe datavised the AI for a full linkage. With the station
layout unfolding in his mind, he began to designate positions to the
agents. Tied in with that was the lift capsules arrival time, and the
departure times of each scheduled vac-train. The AI computed every
possible travel permutation, plotting the routes which the sisters would
have to walk across the concourse. It even took into account the types of
stalls which might catch their eye. Satisfied the agents were placed to
cover every contingency, Western Europe stoked the logs on his fire, and
settled back into a leather armchair with a brandy to wait.

It was probably the ultimate tribute to the fieldcraft of the GSDI agents
that after all fifty of them took up position in Hall Nine, Simon
Bradshaw didnt notice them, not even with his hyper instinct for the way
of things on the concourse. Simon was twenty-three years old, though he
could easily pass for fifteen. Selected hormone courses kept him short
and skinny, with soft ebony skin. His large eyes were moist brown, which
people mistook for mournful. Their endearing appeal had salvaged him from
trouble countless times in the twelve years hed been strutting the
concourses of the Mount Kenya station. Local floor patrol cops had his
profile loaded in their neural nanonics, along with hundreds of other
regular sneak opportunists. Simon used cosmetic packages every fortnight
or so, altering his peripheral features, though his size remained
constant. It was the act you had to vary to prevent the cops from putting
a comparison program into primary mode. Some days dress smart and act
little boy lost, dress casual and act street tough, dress neutral act
neutral, pay a cousin to lend you their five-year-old daughter and come
over as a protective big brother. But never ever dress poor. Poor people
had no business in the station, even the stall vendors had neat franchise
uniforms below their shiny franchise smiles.

Today Simon was actually in a franchise uniform himself: the scarlet and
sapphire tunic of Cuppamaica, the coffee caf. Being unobtrusive by being
mundane. Nobody was suspicious of station workers. He saw the two girls
as soon as they emerged through the customs and immigration archway. It
was like they had a hologram advert flashing over their heads saying:
EASY. He couldnt ever remember seeing such obvious offworlders before.
Both of them gawping round at the cavernous Hall, delighted and amazed by
the place. The little one giggled, pointing up at the transit
informatives, baubles of light charging about overhead like insane
dragonflies, shepherding passengers towards the right channels.

Simon was off immediately, coming away from the noodle stall hed been
slouching against as if powered by a nuclear pulse. Moving at a fast
walk, the luggage cab buzzing incessantly at his heels as its small
motors strained to keep up. He was desperately trying not to run, the
urgency was so hot. His principal worry now was if the others of his
profession saw them. It would be like a feeding frenzy.

Louise couldnt bring her legs to move. Her fellow passengers had swept
her and Genevieve out of customs, carrying her along for a few yards
before her surroundings exerted a grip on her nerves. The arrivals Hall
was awesome, a stadium of coloured crystal and marble, saturated with
noise and light. There must surely have been more people thronging across
its floor than lived in the whole of Kesteven island. Like her, they all
had luggage cabs chasing after them, adding to the bedlam. The squat
oblong box had been supplied by the line company operating the lift
capsule. Her bags had been dumped inside by the retrieval clerk, whod
promptly handed her a circular card. The cab, he promised, would follow
her everywhere as long as she kept the card with her. It was also the key
to open it again when they got down to their vac-train platform. After
that youre on your own, he said. Dont try and take it on the
carriage. Thats MKS property, that is.

Louise swore she wouldnt. How do we get to London? Gen asked in a
daunted tone. Louise glanced up at the mad swarms of photons above them.
They were balls of tightly packed writing, or numbers. Logically, it must
be travel information of some kind. She just didnt know how to read it.

Ticket office, she gulped. Theyll tell us. Well have to buy a ticket
for London anyway.

Genevieve turned a complete circle, trying to scan the Hall through the
melee of bodies and luggage cabs. Wheres the ticket office?

Louise pulled the processor block out of her shoulder purse. Ill find
it, she said with determination. It was just a question of accessing a
local net processor and loading a search program. An operation shed
practised a hundred times with the tutorial. Watching the graphics
assemble themselves in the display as she conjured up a welcome feeling
of satisfaction.

Ive got a problem and Im solving it. By myself, and for myself. Im not
dependent.

She grinned happily at Gen as the search program interrogated the station
information processors. Were actually on Earth. She said it as though
shed only just realized. Which, in a strange way, she had.

Yes, Genevieve grinned back. Then she scowled as a scrawny youth in a
red and blue uniform barged into her. Hey!

He mumbled a grudging apology, side-stepped round the luggage cab and
walked away.

The block bleeped to announce it had located the vac-train ticket
dispensers for Hall Nine. There were seventy-eight of them. Without
showing any ire, Louise started to redefine the search parameters.

Easy, easy, easy. Simon wanted to yell it out. That jostle with the
little kid was the modern equivalent of the shell game. Visually
confusing as their respective luggage cabs crossed paths, and allowing
his grabber to intercept their tag card code at the same time. He fought
the impulse to turn round and check the new luggage cab at his feet.
Those girls were in for a hell of a shock when they got to their platform
and found only a pile of beefbap wrappers inside it.

Simon headed for the stalls at a brisk pace. There was a staff lift at
the middle. Route down to a quieter level, where he could examine his
prize. He was ten metres from the front line of stalls when he was aware
of two people closing on him. It wasnt an accidental path, either, they
were coming at him with all the purpose of combat wasps. Running wasnt
going to do any good, he knew that. He pressed the release button on the
grabber hidden in his palm. The girls luggage cab swerved away, no
longer following him. Now, if he could just dump the grabber in a waste
bin. No proof.

Shit. How could his luck turn like this?

One of the cops (or whoever) went after the luggage cab. Simon hunted
round for a bin. Anywhere there was a fast food bar. He ducked round the
first stall, making one last check on his pursuers. That was why he never
saw the third (or fourth and fifth, for that matter) GISD agent until the
woman bumped right into him. He did feel, briefly, a small sting on his
chest. Exactly the same place she was now taking her hand away from. His
guts suddenly turned very cold, then that sensation faded to nothing.

Simon looked down at his chest in puzzlement just as his legs faltered,
dropping him to his knees. Hed heard of weapons like this, so slim they
never left a mark as they punctured your skin; but inside it was like an
EE grenade going off. The world was going quiet and dim around him. High
above, the woman watched him with a faint sneer of satisfaction on her
lips.

For a couple of bags? Simon coughed incredulously. But shed already
turned, walking away with a calm he could almost respect. A real pro.
Then he was somehow aware of himself finishing the fall to the floor.
Blood rushed out of his gaping mouth. After that, the darkness rushed up
to drown him. Darkness, but not total night. The world was only the
slightest of distances away. And he wasnt alone in observing it from
outside. The lost souls converged upon him to devour the font of keen
anguish that was his mind.

That way, Louise said brightly. The blocks little screen was showing a
floor layout, which she thought shed aligned right.

With Genevieve skipping along at her side she negotiated the obstacle
course of stalls. They slowed down to window shop the things on display,
not really understanding half of them. She also thought there must be a
subtle trick to negotiating the crowd which was eluding her. Twice on the
way to the dispenser, people banged into her. It wasnt as though she
didnt look where she was going.

The block had told her there was neither a ticket office, nor an
information desk. A result which made her acknowledge she was still
thinking along Norfolk lines. All the information she needed was in the
station electronics, it just needed the right questions to extract it.

A vac-train journey to London cost twenty-five fuseodollars (fifteen for
Gen); a train left every twelve minutes from platform thirty-two; lifts G
to J served that level. Once she knew that, even the transit informatives
whirling past overhead began to make a kind of sense.

Western Europe accessed an agents sensevise to watch the sisters puzzle
out the ticket dispenser. Enhanced retinas zoomed in on Genevieve, who
had started clapping excitedly when a ticket dropped out of the slot.

Dont they have ticket dispensers on Norfolk, for heavens sake? the
Halo supervisor asked querulously. He had maintained executive control
over the observation team during the Kavanaghs trip from High York down
to the Mount Kenya station, anxious that nothing should mar the hand
over. Now, curiosity had impelled him to tarry. Having initiated a few
unorthodox missions in his time, he was nevertheless impressed with
Western Europes chutzpa in dealing with Dexter.

Western Europe smiled at the sensevise overlay of Halo, who appeared to
be leaning against the marble fireplace, sipping a brandy. I doubt it.
Some cheery-faced old man in a glass booth would be more their style.
Havent you accessed any recent sensevises of Norfolk? Actually, just any
sensevises of the place would do. It hasnt changed much since the
founding.

Damn backward planet. Its like the medieval section of a themepark.
Those English-ethnic morons abused the whole Great Dispersal ethos with
that folly.

Not really. The ruling Landowner class introduced a stability were
still striving for, and without one per cent of the bloodshed we employ
to keep a lid on things down here. In a way, I envy all those pastoral
planets.

But not enough to emigrate.

Thats a very cheap shot. Quite beneath you. Were as much products of
our environment as the Kavanaghs are of theirs. And at least theyre free
to leave.

Leave yes. Survive in the real world, no. He indicated the observation
operations status display. It wasnt a pleasing tally. Five people had
been eliminated by the guardian blanket of GISD agentspickpockets, sneak
thieves, a scam jockeyas the sisters made their way across the
concourse. Extermination was the quick, no arguments, solution. It was
also going to cause an uproar with the local police when the bodies were
discovered. At this rate, youre going to wind up slaughtering more
people than Dexter has to protect them.

I always thought station security should be sharper, Western Europe
said casually. What kind of advert is it for Govcentral when visitors
get ripped off within ten minutes of their arrival on the good old
homeworld?

Most dont.

Those girls arent most. Dont worry, theyll be safer when they reach
London and book into a hotel.

Halo studied Western Europes handsome young face, amused by the mild
expression of preoccupation to be found there. You fancy Louise.

Dont be absurd.

I know your taste in women as well as you know my preferences. Shes
exactly your type.

Western Europe swirled the brandy round his three-hundred-year-old
snifter, not looking up at the smug overlay image. I admit theres
something really rather appealing about Louise. Naivet, one supposes. It
does always attract, especially when coupled with youthful physical
beauty. Earth girls are so . . . in your face. She has breeding, manners,
and dignity. Also something the natives here lack.

Thats not naivet, its pure ignorance.

Dont be so uncharitable. Youd be equally adrift on Norfolk. I doubt
you could ride to the hunt in pursuit of the cunning hax.

Why would anybody, let alone me, want to go to Norfolk?

Western Europe tilted the snifter back and swallowed the last of the
brandy. Exactly the answer one expects from someone as jaded and
decadent as you. I worry that one day this whole planet will think like
us. Why do we bother protecting them?

We dont, Halo chuckled. Your memory transfer must have glitched. We
protect ourselves. Earth merely is our citadel.


Chapter 06
==========


It was as if space had succumbed to a bleak midwinter. Monterey was
moving into conjunction with New California, sinking deeper through the
penumbra towards the eclipse. Looking through the Nixon suites big
windows, Al could see the shadows above him expanding into black pools of
nothingness. The asteroids crumpled rock surface was slowly melting from
view. Only the small lights decorating the thermal exchange panels and
communication rigs gave him any indication that it hadnt been removed
from the universe entirely. Equally, the Organization fleet gathered
outside was now invisible save for navigation strobes and the occasional
spectral gust of blue ions fired from a thruster.

Beneath his feet, New California slid across the brilliant starscape, a
gold-green corona crowning an empty circle. From this altitude, there
were no city lights, no delicate web of lustrous freeways gripping the
continents. Nothing, in fact, to show that the Organization existed at
all.

Jezzibellas arms crept round his chest, while her chin came to rest on
his shoulder. A mild forest-morning perfume seeped into the air. No sign
of red clouds, she said encouragingly.

He lifted one hand to his lips, and kissed the knuckles. No. I guess
that means Im still numero uno about here.

Of course you are.

You wouldnt fucking think so the beefs everyones got. Not just what
they say, either. What they think counts for a whole lot.

Theyll be all right once the fleets in action again.

Sure, he snorted. And whens that gonna be, huh? Fucking Luigi, I
shoulda popped him properly, screwing up like that. Its gonna take
another twentythirty days to build up our antimatter stocks to anything
like a load we can risk another invasion with. So Emmet says. That means
six weeks minimum I know. Goddamn! Im losing it, Jez. Im fucking losing
it.

Her grip tightened. Dont be silly. You were bound to have setbacks.

I cant afford one. Not now. Morales going to shit out there. Youve
heard what Leroy said. Possessed crew are going down to the surface for
funtime and aint coming back. They think Im gonna lose control of the
planet and theyll be better off down there when it happens.

So get Silvano to tighten up.

Maybe. You can only be so tough, you know?

You sure you cant bring the next invasion forward?

No.

Then we need something else to keep the soldiers and lieutenants
occupied and committed.

He turned to face her. She was wearing one of those whores dresses
again, just tiny little strips of pale yellow fabric up the front (he had
ties wider than that), and a teensy skirt. So much skin tantalisingly
revealed; it made him want to tug it off. As if hed never seen her in
the buff before. But then she was always alluring in some new fashion, a
mirror hall chameleon.

A sensational piece of ass, no doubt about it. But the way she kept on
coming up with ideas for him (just like her never-ending mystique) had
become vaguely unnerving of late. It was like hed become dependent, or
something.

Like what? he asked flatly.

Jezzibella pouted. I dont know. Something which doesnt need the whole
fleet, butll still be effective. Not a propaganda exercise like Kursk;
we need to hurt the Confederation.

Kingsley Pryors gonna do that.

He might. Although thats a very long shot, remember?

Okay, okay. Al wished up one of his prime Havanas, and took a drag.
Even they seemed to have lost some of their bite recently. So how do we
use some itsy piece of the fleet to piss the Feds?

Dunno. Guess youd better go call Emmet in; see what he can come up
with. Thats strictly his field. She gave him a slow wink and sauntered
off to the bedroom.

Where the hell are you going? he demanded.

A hand waved dismissively. This dress is for your eyes only, baby. I
know how hot you get when other people see what Ive got to offer. And
you need to have a clear head when youre talking to Emmet.

He sighed as the tall doors closed behind her. Right again.



When Emmet Mordden arrived fifteen minutes later, Al had returned to the
window. There was very little light in the big lounge, just some red
jewels glimmering high up on the white and gold walls. With Monterey now
fully into the umbra, the window was little more than a slate grey
rectangle, with Als ebony silhouette in the middle. His youthful face
was illuminated by a diminutive orange glimmer coming from the Havana.

Emmet tried not to show too much annoyance at the cigar smoke clogging
the room. The Hiltons conditioners never managed to eliminate the
cloying smell, and using energistic power to ward it off was too much
like overkill. It might just offend Al, too.

Al raised a hand in acknowledgement, but didnt turn away from the window
with its empty view. Cant see anything out there today, he said
quietly. No planet, no sun.

Theyre still there, Al.

Yeah yeah. And now is when you tell me I got responsibilities to them.

Im not going to tell you that, Al. You know the way it is.

Know what, and dont tell Jez this, Id trade in the whole shebang for a
trip home to Chicago. I used to have a house in Prairie Avenue. You know?
Like, for my family. It was a nice street in a decent neighbourhood, full
of regular guys, trees, good lighting. There was never any trouble there.
Thats where I want to be, Emmet, I wanna be able to walk down Prairie
Avenue and open my own front door again. Thats all. I just wanna go
home.

Earth aint like it used to be, Al. And it hasnt changed for the best.
Take it from me, you wouldnt recognize it now.

I dont want it now, Emmet. I want to go home. Capeesh?

Sure, Al.

That sound crazy to you?

I had a girl before. It was a good thing back then, you know.

Right. See, I had this idea. I remember there was this Limy guy, Wells,
I think his name was. I never read any of his books, mind. But he wrote
about things that are happening today in this crazy world, about Mars men
invading and a time machine. Boy, if hes come back, I bet hes having a
ball right now. So . . . I just wondered; he was thinking stuff like
that, a time machine, back in the Twentieth Century, and the
Confederation eggheads, they can build these starships today. Did they
ever try to make a time machine?

No, Al. Zero-tau can carry ordinary people into the future, but theres
no way back. The big theory guys, they say it cant be done. Not in
practice. Sorry.

Al nodded contemplatively. Thats okay, Emmet. Thought Id ask.

Was that all, Al?

Shit no. Al smiled reluctantly, and turned from the window. Hows it
going out there?

Were holding our own, especially down on the planet. Havent had to use
an SD strike for three days now. Some of the lieutenants have even caught
a couple of AWOL starship crew. Theyre getting shipped back up here
tonight. Patricias going to deal with. Shes talking about setting an
example.

Good. Maybe now those bastards will learn there aint no get-out clause
when you sign up with me.

The voidhawks have stopped dumping their stealth bombs and spyglobes on
the fleet. Kieras hellhawks have done a good job clearing them out.

Huh. Al opened the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a shot of
bourbon. The stuff was imported from a planet called Nashville. He
couldnt believe theyd called a whole goddamn planet after that hick
dirt-town. Their booze had a kick, though.

You remember she moved her people into the rooms along the docking
ledge? Emmet said. I know why she did it, now. Theyve knocked out all
the machinery which makes the nutrient fluid for the hellhawks. And not
just here in Monterey, all over the system, too. The Stryla visited all
the asteroids we run, and layered their nutrient machinery. Her people
are guarding the only one left working. If the hellhawks dont do as
theyre told, they dont get fed. They dont eat, they die. Its that
simple.

Neat, Al said. Let me guess, if we try to muscle in on the last
machine, it gets zapped.

Looks like it. Theyve let slip that its booby trapped. Id hate to
risk it.

As long as the hellhawks do what I want, she can stay. Barricading
herself in like that is dumb. It makes her even more dependent on me for
status. She has to support me, shes not important to anyone else.

Ive put a couple of people on surveying whats left of the machinery
she smashed up. We might be able to put a working unit back together
eventually, but itll take time.

Time is something which is giving me a fucking headache, Emmet. And I
aint talking about Wellss machine here. I need to get the fleet back
into action, soonest.

But, Al he stopped as Al held up a hand.

I know. We cant launch no invasion right now. Not enough antimatter.
Theres gotta be something else they can do. Im being honest with you
here, Emmet, the boys are so antsy, theyll mutiny if we keep them
kicking their heels in port much longer.

I suppose you could launch some fast strike raids. Let people know weve
still got some punch.

Strike on what? Just blowing things up for the sake of it, aint my
style. We have to give the fleet a purpose.

Theres the Mortonridge Liberation. The Confederations been beaming
propaganda about that to every city on New California, telling us how
were bound to lose eventually. If we hit some of their supply convoys
wed be helping the possessed on Ombey.

Yeah, Al said. The notion didnt really appeal, too few visible
returns. What Im looking for is something thatll cause a shitload of
trouble for the Confederation each time. Knocking out a couple of ships
aint going to do that.

Well . . . This is just an idea, Al. I dont know if its the kind of
thing youre looking for. It depends on how many planets you want to rule
over.

The Organization has to keep up its momentum to exist. Ruling planets is
only a part of that. So talk to me, Emmet.



Kiera could see eight hellhawks out on the ledge below her. They were all
sitting on their pedestals, ingesting nutrient fluid. A rotor had been
drawn up so the whole flock could feed on the ten metallic mushrooms
which remained functional. Studying the huge creatures, so powerful yet
utterly dependent, Kiera couldnt avoid the religious analogy. They were
like a devout congregation coming to receive mass from their priestess.
Each of them abased themselves before her, and if the correct obeisance
was performed, they received her blessing in return, and were allowed to
live.

The Kerachel swept in above the ledge, appearing so swiftly out of the
umbra it might have just swallowed in. A pointed lozenge-shape, a hundred
metres long, it hardly hesitated as it found its designated pedestal and
sank down. Knowing that even though it couldnt see her expression, it
could sense her thoughts, she smiled arrogantly down upon it. Any
problems? she asked casually.

Montereys command centre monitored its patrol flight, Hudson Proctor
replied. No deviations. Eight suspect objects destroyed.

Well done, she murmured. A hand waved languid permission to start.

Hudson Proctor picked up a handset, and began speaking into it. Two
hundred metres below the departure lounge, her loyal little team opened a
valve, and the precious fluid surged along a pipe out to the pedestal. A
feeling of contentment strummed the air like background music as Kerachel
began sucking in its food. Kiera could feel the hellhawks mood, it
mellowed her own.

There were eighty-seven hellhawks based at Monterey now. A formidable
flotilla by anyones standards. Securing them for herself had absorbed
all her efforts over the last few days. Now it was time to start thinking
ahead again. Her position here was actually a lot stronger than it had
been at Valisk. If the habitat was a fiefdom, then New California was a
kingdom in comparison. One which Capone appeared singularly inept at
maintaining. The main reason shed established herself so easily in the
docking ledges was the apathy spreading through Monterey. Nobody thought
to question her.

That simply wouldnt do. In building his Organization, Capone had grasped
an instinctive truth. People, possessed or otherwise, needed structure
and order in their lives. It was one of the reasons they fell into line
so easily, familiarity was a welcome comrade. Give them the kind of
nirvana which existed (though she had strong suspicions about that) in
the realm where planets shifted to, and the population would sink into a
wretched, lotus-eating state. The Siamese twin of unending indulgent
leisure. If she was honest to herself, she was terrified of the
immortality shed been given. Life would change beyond comprehension, and
that was going to be very hard indeed. For an adaptation of that
magnitude, she would no longer be herself.

And that, I will not permit.

She enjoyed what she was and what shed got, the drives and needs. Like
this, at least she remained recognizably human. That identity was worth
preserving. Worth fighting for.

Capone wouldnt do it. He was weak, controlled by that ingenious trollop
Jezzibella, by a non-possessed.

In the Organization, a method of enforcing control over an entire
planetary population had been perfected. If she was in charge, it could
be used to implement her policies. The possessed would learn to live with
their phobia of open skies. In return they would have the normal human
existence they craved. There would be no dangerous metamorphosis into an
alien state of being. She would remain whole. Herself.

A twitch of motion broke her contemplation. Someone was walking along the
docking ledge, someone in a bulky orange and white spacesuit with a
globular helmet. Compared to modern SSI suits, the thing was ridiculously
old-fashioned. The only reason for wearing one was if you didnt have
neural nanonics.

Are there any engineering crews on the ledge? Kiera asked. She couldnt
see any hellhawks receiving maintenance right now.

A couple, Hudson Proctor answered. The Foica is being loaded with
combat wasps, and Varrads main fusion generator needs work on its heat
dump panels.

Oh. Where . . .

Kiera. Hudson held up the handset in trepidation. Capones calling all
his senior lieutenants. Its an invite to some kind of glam party this
evening.

Really? She gave the spacesuited figure one last glance. And I havent
a thing to wear. But if our Great and Glorious Leader has summoned me,
Id better not disappoint him.



Back on Koblat, they called these spacesuits ballcrushers. Jed had worn
one before for an emergency evacuation drill, and now he was remembering
why. Putting it on was easy enough; when they got it out of the locker it
was a flaccid sack three times too large for his frame. Hed wriggled
into it, standing with arms outstretched and legs apart so the baggy
fabric could hang unobstructed off each limb. Then Beth had activated the
wristpad control, and the fabric contracted like an all-over tourniquet.
Now every part of his body was being squeezed tight. It was the same
principle as an SII suit, preventing any loose bubbles of air becoming
trapped between his skin and the suit. If a suit contained any sort of
gas, it would inflate like a rigid balloon as soon as he stepped out into
a vacuum.

This way, he could move about almost unrestricted. Providing he ignored
the sharp pincer sensation besetting his crotch at every motion. Not an
entirely easy thing to disregard.

But apart from that, the suit was functioning smoothly. He wished his
heart would do the same. According to the hazy purple icons projected
onto the inside of his helmet, the suits integral thermal shunt strips
were conducting away a lot of heat. Nerves and an adrenaline high were
making the blood pound away in his arteries. His tension wasnt helped by
the rank of huge hellhawks he was walking along. He knew they could sense
his thoughts and all the guilt cluttering up his skull, which made the
torment even worse. A bad case of feedback. Bubbles of plastic and dark
metal clung to the underbellies of the bitek starships like mechanical
excrescences. Weapons and sensors. He was sure every one of them was
tracking him.

Jed, youre getting worse, Rocio told him.

How can you tell?

Why are you whispering? You are using a legitimate spacesuit radio
frequency. If the Organization is monitoring this, which I doubt, they
still have to decrypt the signal, which I also doubt their ability to do.
As far as they are concerned you are just one of Kieras people, while
she will think you belong to the Organization. Thats the beauty of this
in-fighting, nobody knows what anyone else is doing around here.

Sorry, Jed said contritely into the helmet mike.

Im monitoring your body functions, and your heartrate is still
climbing.

That brought a shudder which rippled up from Jeds legs to make his chest
quiver. Oh Jeeze. Ill come back.

No no, youre doing fine. Only another three hundred metres to the
airlock.

But the hellhawks are going to know!

Only if you dont take precautions. I think its time we used a little
chemical help here.

I didnt bring any. We werent supposed to need that in Valisk.

I dont mean your underclass narcotics. The suit medical module will
provide what you need.

Jed hadnt even known the suit had any medical modules. Following Rocios
instructions, he tapped out a series of orders on the wristpad. The air
in the helmet changed slightly, becoming cooler, and smelling of mint.
For such a small suffusion, its effect was swift. The cold massaged its
way in through Jeds muscles, bringing a nearly-orgasmic sigh from his
throat. It was a hit stronger than anything hed ever scored in Koblat.
His mind was being methodically purged of fright by this balmy tide of
wellbeing. He held up his arms, expecting to see all his anxiety
streaming out of his fingertips like liquid light.

Not bad, he declared.

How much did you infuse? Rocio asked.

The hellhawks voice came across as brittle and irritating. What you
said, Jed retorted in a fashion which demonstrated quite plainly who was
occupying the lead role. A couple of the physiology icons were flashing a
rather pleasing pink in front of him. Like pretty little flower buds
opening, he thought.

All right, Jed, lets keep going, shall we?

Sure thing, mate.

He started walking forwards again. Even the twinge in his groin was less
of an issue now. That medical suffusion was good shit. The hellhawks had
stopped radiating their intimidation. With his mind chilling he started
to see them in a different context; grounded on their pedestals, sucking
desperately at their drink. Not so much different to himself and the
girls. He acquired a more confident stride as he passed the last two.

Rocios voice started issuing directions again, guiding him in towards
the airlock. Tall spires of machinery ran up the rock cliff at the back
of the ledge, sprouting pipes in a crazed dendritic formation. Several
small fountains of thin vapour were jetting out horizontally from
junctions and micrometeorite punctures; their presence a testament to
Montereys floundering maintenance programme. Windows were set into the
drab, sheered rock; long panoramic rectangles fronting departure lounges
and engineering management offices. All but two were dark, reflecting
weak outlines of the floodlit hellhawks. The remaining pair revealed
nothing but vague shadows moving behind their frosted anti-glare
shielding.

Maintenance vehicles, cargo trucks, and crew buses had been left
scattered along the base of the cliff. Jed made his way through the maze
they formed, thankful of the cover. The airlocks waited for him beyond,
unlit tunnels leading into the asteroid. Conduits that would take him
directly to the nest of the most feared possessed in the Confederation.
His trepidation rose again as he approached them. He stopped on the
threshold of a personnel airlock, and used the wristpad again.

Careful how much of that trauma suppresser you inhale, Rocio said
lightly. Its strong stuff, they designed it to keep you functional
after an accident.

No worries, Jed said earnestly. I can handle it.

Very well. Theres no one in the area immediately behind the airlock.
Time to go in.

Jed? Beths voice sounded loud and high in his helmet. Jed, can you
hear me?

Sure, doll.

Okay. Were watching the screens, too. Rocio is relaying images from the
cameras inside, so well look out for you, mate. And hes right about the
medical module, go easy on it, huh? I want to share some of that
suffusion with you when you get back.

Even in his tranquil state, Jed interpreted that right. He went into the
airlock feeling majestic.

He took his helmet off, and took a breath of neutral air. It helped to
clear his head a bit, not so much euphoria, but none of the fright,
either. Good enough. Rocio gave him a whole string of directions to
follow, and he started off cautiously down the corridor.

The store room for crew supplies wasnt far from the airlock, naturally
enough. Rocio had been keeping a careful watch on things, seeing what
happened when other hellhawks came to dock. Several of his bitek comrades
still had crew on board. The combat wasps they carried required
activation codes, and following standard security procedures, Kiera and
Capone had split the codes between loyalists. No one person could fire
them. It was a significant point that she hadnt asked Rocio to carry any.

Jed found the door Rocio nominated, and pulled back the clamps. Cold air
breezed out, turning his breath to foggy streamers. Inside, the room was
split into aisles by long free-standing shelves. Despite the
Organizations claim that normalizing food production on New California
was a priority, there werent many packs left. Processing food for the
space industry was a specialist business; ideally, everything had to be
crumbs-free, taste-strengthened, and packaged in minimum volume. Leroy
Octavius had decided that restarting the kitchen facilities of the
relevant companies wasnt cost effective. Consequently, fleet crews had
been making do with old stocks and standard pre-packed meals.

Whats there? Beth asked impatiently. There were no cameras actually in
the store room, Rocio had to go on what hed seen being taken in and out.

Jed walked down the aisles, brushing the frost dust off various labels.
Plenty, he muttered. Providing you liked yoghurt, mint potatocakes,
cheese and tomato flans (dehydrated in sachets that looked like fat
biscuits), blackcurrant and apple mousse concentrate; complemented with
hot-frozen cubes of broccoli, spinach, carrot, and sprouts.

Oh bugger.

Whats the matter? Rocio asked.

Nothing. The boxes are heavy, thats all. Were going to have a real
party when I get this lot back to the ship.

Are there any chocolate oranges? Gari piped up.

Ill have a look, sweetheart, Jed lied. He went back out into the
corridor to fetch a trolley which had been abandoned just along from the
store room. It ought to fit through the airlock, which meant he could use
that to transport everything back to the Mindori. Then theyd all have to
be carried up the stairs to the life support modules airlock. It was
going to be a long hard day.

Somebody coming, Rocio announced after Jed had got a dozen boxes out of
the store room and onto the trolley.

Jed stopped dead, hugging a box of compressed rye chips. Who? he hissed.

Not sure. Camera image isnt too good. Small guy.

Where is he? Jed dropped the box, wincing at the sound.

A hundred metres away. But heading your way.

Oh Jeeze. Is he possessed?

Unknown.

Jed shot across the storage room and closed the door. Nothing he could do
about the damning trolley outside, though. His heart began yammering as
he flattened himself against the wall beside the dooras if that made a
difference.

Still coming, Rocio announced calmly. Seventy metres now.

Jeds hand crept down to the utility pocket on his hip. Fingers flicked
the seal catch, and he dug inside. His hand closed around the cold,
reassuring grip of the laser pistol.

Thirty metres. Hes coming to the junction with your corridor.

Dont look at the bloody trolley, Jed prayed. Christ, please dont.

He drew the laser pistol out, and studied the simple controls for a
second. Switched modes to constant beam, full power. Repeater was no
good, a possessed would be able to screw with the electrics inside while
he was shooting. He was only going to have one chance.

Hes in the corridor. I think hes seen the trolley. Stopping just
outside.

Jed closed his eyes, shaking badly. A possessed would be able to sense
his thoughts. They would all be hauled off to face Capone. He would be
tortured and Beth would get sent to the brothel.

I should have left the door open, that way I could have sprung out and
surprised them.

Hello? a voice called. It was very high pitched, almost a girl.

Is that them? he whispered to his suit mike.

Yes. Hes examined the trolley. Now by the door.

The locking clamp moved, slowly hinging back. Jed stared at it in dread,
desperate for one last hit from the suits medical module.

If the laser doesnt work, Ill kill myself, he decided. Better that . . .

Hello? the high voice sounded timid. Is someone there?

The door started to open.

Hello?

Jed shouted in fury, and jumped from the wall. Holding the laser pistol
in a double handed grip, he spun round and fired out into the corridor.
Webster Pryor was saved by two things: his own diminutive height, and
Jeds quite abysmal aim.

The red strand of laserlight was quite brilliant compared to the corridor
lighting. It left Jed squinting against the glare, trying to see what he
was shooting at. Blue-white flames and black smoke were squirting out of
the corridor wall opposite, tracing a meandering line in the composite.
Then the smoke stopped, and a spray of molten metal rained down. He was
slicing through a conditioning duct.

He didjustsee a small man dive to the floor at his feet as the laser
slashed round in search of a target. There was a yell of panic, and
someone was screaming: Dont shoot me dont shoot me! in a high pitched
voice.

Jed yelled himself. Confused all to hell what was happening. Tentatively,
he took his finger off the lasers trigger. Metal creaked alarmingly as
the duct sagged around the dripping gap in its side. He looked down at
the figure in the white jacket and black trousers grovelling on the
floor. What in Christs name is going on? Who are you?

A terrified face was looking up at him. It wasnt a bloke, just a kid.
Please dont kill me, Webster pleaded. Please. I dont want to be one
of them. Theyre horrible.

Whats happening? Rocio asked.

Not sure, Jed mumbled. He took a look down the corridor. All clear.

Was that a laser?

Yeah. He aimed it down at Webster. Are you possessed?

No. Are you?

Course bloody not.

Well I didnt know, Webster wailed.

How did you get a weapon? Rocio asked.

Shut up! Jeeze, give me a break. I just got one, okay?

Webster was frowning through his tears. What?

Nothing. Jed hesitated, then put the laser pistol back in his utility
pocket. The kid looked harmless; though the waiters jacket with its
brass buttons which he wore, along with his oil-slicked hair, was a
little odd. But he was more scared than anything else. Who are you?

The story came out in broken sentences, punctuated by sobs. How Webster
and his mother had been caught up in Capones take-over. How theyd been
held in one of the asteroids halls with hundreds of other women and
children. How some Organization woman came searching them out from the
rest. How hed been separated from his mother and put to work serving
drinks and food for the gangster bosses and a peculiar, very pretty,
lady. How he kept hearing Capone and the lady mention his fathers name,
and then glance in his direction.

What are you doing down here? Jed asked.

They sent me for some food, Webster said. The cook told me to find out
if there were any swans left in storage.

This is the spacecraft section, Jed said. Didnt you know?

Webster sniffled loudly. Yes. But if I look everywhere, I could stay
away from them for a while.

Right. He straightened, and found one of the small camera lenses. What
do we do? he asked, flustered by the boys tale.

Get rid of him, Rocio said curtly.

What do you mean?

Hes a complication. Youve got the laser pistol, havent you?

Webster was looking up at him passively, eyes red-rimmed from the tears.
All mournful and beat; the way not so long ago Jed had looked at Digger
when the pain was at its worst.

I cant do that! Jed exclaimed.

What do you need, a note from your mother? Listen to me, Jed, the second
he steps within range of a possessed, theyll know somethings happened
to him. Then theyll come looking for you. Theyll get you, and Beth, and
the girls.

No way. I cant. I just cant. Not even if I wanted to.

So what are you going to do instead?

I dont know! Beth? Beth, have you been switched on to all this?

Yes, Jed, she replied. Youre not to touch that boy. Weve got plenty
of food, now, so bring him back with you. He can come with us.

Really? Rocio enquired disdainfully. And wheres his spacesuit? Hows
he supposed to get out to me?

Jed looked at Webster, thoroughly disconcerted. This whole situation was
just getting worse and worse. For Christs sake, just get me out of
this.

Stop being an arsehole, Beth snapped. Its bloody obvious, youll have
to steal one of the vehicles. Theres plenty of them about. I can see
some of them docked to the airlocks close to where you went in. Take one
and drive it over to us.

Jed wanted to curl up into a ball and take a decent hit. A vehicle! In
full view of this whole nest of possessed.

Please Jed, come back, Gari entreated. I dont like it here without
you.

All right, doll, he said, too bushed to kick up an argument. On my
way. He rounded on Webster. And youd better not be any trouble.

Youre going to take me away? the boy asked in wonder.

Sort of, yeah.

Jed didnt bother about collecting any more food from the shelves. He
just started pushing the trolley, making sure Webster was in sight the
whole time.

Rocio reviewed the camera images and schematic data available to him, and
quickly devised a route to one of the docking ledge vehicles. It meant
the two of them taking a lift up to the lounge level, which he didnt
like. But previewing enabled him to hurry them past the sections where
crews were still working without incident.

The vehicle hed chosen for them was a small taxi with a five-seater cab.
Large enough to take the trolley, and simple enough for Jed to drive. He
was back at the Mindori three minutes after disengaging from the airlock.
It actually took him longer than that to match the taxis docking tube
with the starships life support module hatch. Once the tube was locked
and pressurized, Beth, Gari, and Navar came rushing in to greet the
returning hero. Beth put her hands on either side of his face and gave
him a long kiss. Im proud of you, she said.

That wasnt something shed ever told him before, and she didnt hand out
platitudes, either. Of course, today had been full of not merely the
unusual, but the positively weird. However, the words left him warm and
uncertain. The moment was only slightly spoilt when the two younger girls
started reading labels and found out what hed brought back.



It had taken the Monterey Hiltons head chef over three hours to prepare
the meal. A dozen or so senior lieutenants and their partners had been
invited to an evening with Al and Jezzibella. Pasta with a sauce that was
at least as good as they used to make on Earth (supervised by Al), swan
stuffed with fish, fresh vegetables boosted up from the planet that
afternoon, desserts heavy on chocolate and calories, matured cheeses, the
finest wines New California could produce, the fanciest liqueurs. As well
as the food, there was a five-piece band, and some showgirls for later.
Guests would also receive items of twenty-four carat jewellery (genuine,
not energistic baubles), personally selected by Al himself. The evening
was intended to be memorable. Nobody left Al Capones party without a
smile on their face. His reputation as a wild and exuberant host had to
be preserved, after all.

What Al didnt know was that Leroy had to be taken off Organization
administration duties in order to make the arrangements. Hed spent over
an hour calling senior Organization personnel to facilitate the
ingredients and people necessary to make the party work. That bothered
the obese manager. The picture he and Emmet were getting from various
lieutenants and city bosses down on the surface was a smooth one, things
falling neatly into place, people doing as they were told. But not so
long ago, when the fleet left for Arnstat, Leroy had put together a grand
ball in under a week. A time when the planet and high-orbit asteroids had
fought for the privilege of supplying Al with the best of anything they
had. This party was a fraction of that scale and a multiple of the effort.

However, despite the grudging donations, the Nixon suites dining room
was an impressive and dramatic example of lavishness when Leroy finally
arrived, immaculate tuxedo straining around his huge frame. One of the
more lissom girls from the brothel was on his arm; the pair of them a
gross example of human glandular divergence. Heads turned to look at him
when they arrived together. Silent calculations were quickly performed
when a smiling Al greeted them, and handed the girl a diamond necklace
which even her cleavage couldnt devour. No snide remarks were ventured,
though the mind-tones said it all.

Monterey was out of the umbra again, heading into the light. Outside the
broad window, New Californias green and blue crescent gleamed warmly. It
was a sumptuous atmosphere for the pre-dinner drinks, and the atmosphere
was suitably relaxed. Waiters circulated with gold and silver trays of
canaps, making sure no glass was ever in danger of heading towards half
empty. Conversation flowed, and Al circulated with grace, showing no
favouritism.

His mood didnt even falter when Kiera showed up an easy fifteen minutes
after everyone else. She wore a provocatively simple sleeveless summer
dress of some thin mauve fabric, cut to emphasise her figure. On a girl
of her bodys age it would have been charmingly guileless, on her it was
a declaration of all-out fashion war against the other females in the
room. Only Jezzibella in the ever-classic little black cocktail number
looked snazzier. And by the bright cherubs smile she used to welcome
Kiera, she knew it.

Al, darling, Kieras smile was wide and sweltering as she kissed Als
cheek. Great party, thanks for the invite.

For a second, Al worried her teeth might be going for his jugular. Her
thoughts bristled with an icy superiority. Wouldnt be the same without
you, he told her. Jeeze, and to think hed once considered her a
possible lay. His wang would get so cold inside her, itd snap clean off.

The notion made him shiver. He beckoned to one of the waiters. The guy
must have been in his nineties, one of those dignified old coots that
were perfect as butlers. Young Webster should have been doing this job,
Al thought, it would have made for a cuter image. But he hadnt seen the
boy all evening. The old man wobbled forwards obediently, carrying a tray
of black velvet with a shimmering sapphire cobweb necklace resting on it.

For me? Kiera simpered. Oh, how lovely.

Al took the necklace off the tray and slowly fastened it round her neck,
ignoring her lecherous smirk at his proximity.

Its so nice to see you here, Jezzibella said, clinging to Als arm.
We werent sure if you could spare the time.

Ive always got time for Al.

Thats nice to hear. Keeping the hellhawks in line must take up a big
part of your day.

I dont have any trouble coping. They know Im in charge of them.

Yeah, you got some interesting moves, there, Al said. Emmet was full
of praise for what you did. Said it was smart. Coming from him, thats
quite a compliment. Ill have to remember them in case Im ever in a
similar situation.

Kiera removed a champagne saucer from one of the waiters, her gaze
searched the room like a targeting laser until she found Emmet. You
wont be in a similar situation, Al. Im covering that flank for you.
Very thoroughly.

Jezzibella morphed into her hero-worshipping early-teens persona.
Covering for Al? her high girlish voice piped.

Yes. Who else?

Come on, Jez, Al grinned in mock-rebuke. There aint no one else in
the market for hellhawks, you know that.

I do. Jezzibella looked up adoringly at him, and sighed.

And without me, theres no reason for New California to keep supporting
them, Al said.

Kieras attention moved back from Emmet. Believe me, Im very aware of
everyones position. And their worth.

Thats nice, Jezzibella said blandly.

Enjoy your drink, babe, Al said, and patted Kieras arm. I got a small
announcement to make before we sit down to eat. He marched over to
Emmet, and signalled the head waiter to bang a gong. The room fell
silent, people picking up on the focused excitement in Als mind. This
aint the usual kind of speech to make at table. I aint got no stag
jokes, for a start.

Faithful smiles switched on all around. Al took another sip of
champagnedamn, but he wanted a shot of decent bourbon. All right, I
aint gonna bullshit around with you. We got problems with the fleet, on
account of it aint got nowhere to go. You know how it is, we gotta keep
momentum going or the boysll go sour on us. That right, Silvano?

The brooding lieutenant nodded scrupulously. Some of the guys are
getting close to the boil, sure, Al. Nothing we cant keep a lid on.

I dont wanna keep no fucking lid on nothing. We gotta give the bastards
something to do while we build up stocks of antimatter. We cant take
over no planet again, not for a while. So were gonna hit the
Confederation from another angle. Thats what I got for you, something
new. This way we cause them one fuck of a lot of damage, and dont get
hurt ourselves. And we got Emmet here to thank for that. He put his arm
round the Organizations reluctant technology expert, and gave him a
friendly hug. Were gonna launch some raids on other planets, and break
through their space fort defences. Once weve done that, we can sling a
whole load of our guys down to the surface. Tell them, Emmet.

Ive done some preliminary designs for one-man atmospheric entry pods,
Emmet said in a tense voice. Theyre based on standard escape boats, but
they can descend in under fifteen minutes. Thats high gees for whoevers
inside, but with our energistic strength it shouldnt be a problem. And
theyre simple enough, that we shouldnt screw up the guidance
electronics. All the fleet has to do is create a window in the SD
coverage long enough for them to get down. Once theyre on the ground,
the good old exponential curve comes into play.

Without the fleet firepower to back them up, theyll lose, Dwight said
bluntly. The local cops will wipe them out.

It depends on how together the planet is, and how many soldiers we can
shove down there, Al said, untroubled. Emmets right about how fast we
can expand. Thats gonna cause the governments a shitload of grief.

But, Al, the Organization cant expand as fast as ordinary possessed.
Weve got to have time to let Harwood and his guys vet the souls thatre
coming back. Christ, weve had enough trouble with loyalty on New
California, let alone Arnstat. If we dont have committed lieutenants,
the Organizationll fall apart.

Who gives a shit? Al laughed round at the startled expressions. Come
on, you guys! Just how many goddamn planets do you think we can run? Even
the King of Kulus only got half a dozen. If I gave all you dopeheads one
apiece to be emperor of, that still leaves hundreds of free ones left out
there to screw with us. We gotta start levelling the odds, here. I say
shoot possessed down to the surface and let the fuckers run loose. We can
use all our hotheads from here, all the crap artists who wanna take New
California out of the universe, send them, get rid of the assholes
permanently. That way were solving two problems at once. Fewer traitors
here, and planets dropping out of the Confederation. You retards grabbed
what thatll mean yet? It means less hassle for us. Every planet we hit
is gonna scream to the navy for the same kinda help Mortonridge is
getting. Thatll cost them plenty to provide. Money they cant spend
dicking with us. He looked round the room, knowing hed won them over.
Again. His face reddened with the heat of victory, three tiny white lines
proud on his cheek. That reluctant admiration hed kindled in them
proving he was the man with the plan, and the balls to see it through.

Al raised his glass high in triumph. And it was like a room full of
krauts doing their knee-jerk fascist salute as the others held their own
glasses up, fast. Jezzibella winked impishly at him from behind the back
row, while Kieras face was drawn as she considered the implications.

A toast. Goodbye to that goddamn pain in the ass Confederation.



The Mindoris distortion field expanded outwards in a specific pattern of
swirls, generating ripples in the fabric of space-time. They pushed
against the hull, lifting it from the pedestal in a simple, smooth
motion. Inside the large forward lounge, none of the six passengers
noticed even a quiver in the apparent gravity field. Theyd just finished
their meal of mashed turkey granules, which was the only meat product
Beth could hammer into a burger shape. Jed was ignoring the sullen stares
that were getting flashed his way. Turkey wasnt so bad after it had been
grilled.

Gerald Skibbow looked up at the lounges big screen as the edge of the
docking ledge slipped towards them. Where are we going? he asked.

Webster twitched in surprise, it was the first time hed heard Gerald
speak. The others stared at him, slightly nervous of what would follow.
Even now, after all this time, he was still nutty Gerald to them. Rocio
had privately confided to Jed and Beth he couldnt make any sense of
Geralds thoughts at all.

A small picture of Rocios face appeared in one corner of the screen.
Ive been given a patrol flight vector, he said. Its not a very
demanding one, well never be more than three million kilometres from New
California. I suspect its a trial to see if I do as Im told. I have
just filled my reserve bladders with nutrient fluid, if I was going to
leave, now would be an obvious time.

Are you going to? Beth asked.

No. The only place to go is the Edenist habitats and the Confederation.
The price for their sanctuary would be cooperating with their physicists.
And that would ultimately lead to the defeat of the possessed. I told you
before, I need to find other options.

I dont want to leave Monterey, Gerald said. The screen was now showing
the asteroids counter-rotating spaceport receding at a considerable
speed. Please go back and let me disembark.

Cant do that, Gerald, mate, Beth said. Them possessed, theyd spot
you inside Monterey in a flash. Give the whole game away. Wed all wind
up like Marie, that way, and theyd punish Rocio, too.

I will assist you with Kiera in whatever way I can, Rocio said. But
first, I must establish myself as one of her servile flock.

Beth reached over and gripped Geralds arm. We can wait that long, eh?

Gerald considered her words; although he was sure his thoughts were
taking longer to form these days. There was a time when he could give an
instant reply to any topic or question. That Gerald existed only in his
mind now, a memory that was hard to find and difficult to see. All
right, he said. It was a tough concession to make. To have been so close
to her. Just a few hundred metres. And now having to leave, to abandon
her. It would probably be days until they could return. Days darling
Marie would have to spend enduring the torment of that terrible womans
control. The notions of what she would get up to with her captive flesh
were horrible. Marie was a lovely little girl, so pretty. Always had lots
of boyfriends, which hed tried not to get upset and protective over.
Back on Lalonde, sex seemed the only thing the possessed were interested
in. And like every father since the dawn of civilization, Maries
sexuality was the one thing Gerald never dared dwell upon.

It would be that, he admitted in his dark heart. Night after night, Kiera
would allow some man to run his hands over her. Would laugh and groan at
the abuse. Would demand hot physical violations. Bodies writhing together
in the darkness. Beautiful, strong bodies. Gerald whimpered softly.

You okay? Beth asked. Beside her, Jed was frowning.

Fine, Gerald whispered. His hands were rubbing his perspiring forehead,
trying to massage the pain inside. I just want to help her. And if I
could just get to her, I know I could. Loren said so, you see.

Well be back there in no time, okay, no worries.

He nodded lamely, returning to pick at the food theyd given him. He had
to get to Marie soon. He was sorry about everyone elses predicament, but
what Marie was suffering was unspeakable. Next time they landed at
Monterey, he decided, it would be different. No details, but definitely
different.

Rocio was aware of Geralds ardent, fractured anxiety sinking back under
calmer emotions. That mans mind was a complete enigma. Not that Rocio
actually wanted to be privy to such tortured thoughts. Shame that he
couldnt convince Beth and Jed to stay on board by themselves. This
entourage of people were making his position more complicated. Ideally,
hed like to winnow the numbers down again.

Now that he was clear of the asteroid, he began to accelerate. Modifying
the distortion field to generate ever-more powerful ripples in
space-time. He surfed them at seven gees, a secondary manipulation
alleviating the force around the life support section. As the sense of
freedom rose in tandem with his speed, he allowed his dreamform to
blossom. Dark wings slowly spread wide, sweeping eagerly, sending motes
of interplanetary dust swirling in his wake. He shook his neck, blinking
huge red eyes, flexing his talons. In this state, he was perfectly at one
with himself and life. It reaffirmed the conviction that Kieras hold
over himself and his comrades must be broken.

He began talking to the other hellhawks, probing for emotional nuances.
Building a pattern of those who thought as he did. Of the seventy
currently in the New California system, he thought there were possibly
nineteen he could count on for open support, another ten would probably
side with him if things looked favourable. Several were playing it very
coy, while eight or nine, led by Etchells and Cameron Leung, revelled in
the prospect of following the Organization fleet into glory. Good enough
odds.

Eight hours into his patrol, Hudson Proctor delivered new instructions.
<< Theres an interplanetary ship decelerating towards New California,
>>Kieras lieutenant said. << Coming straight in along the south pole,
one and a half million kilometres out. We think its come from the
Almaden asteroid. Can you sense it? >>

Rocio expanded his distortion field, probing where Proctor indicated. The
ship slithered into his perception as a tight kink of mass, alive with
energy.

<< Got it, >>he acknowledged.

<< Intercept them, and order them to return. >>

<< Are they hostile? >>

<< I doubt it. Probably just another bunch of idiots who think they can
live where they want instead of where the Organization tells them. >>

<< Understood. And if they dont want to return? >>

<< Blow them to shit. Any questions? >>

<< No. >>

Rocio changed the distortion field again, concentrating it on a small
area just ahead of his beak. Power surged through his patterning cells,
and the stress he was applying leapt towards infinite. A wormhole
interstice opened, and he shot through, emerging from the terminus less
than two seconds later. It folded neatly behind his tailfeathers,
returning local space-time to its usual consonance.

The interplanetary ship was three kilometres away, a long silk-grey
splinter of metal and composite. Standard configuration of barrel-shaped
life support module separated from the drive section by a lattice tower.
It was decelerating at two thirds of a gee, blue-white fusion flame
spearing cleanly from its exhaust. Rocio was also aware of another
wormhole terminus opening five thousand kilometres away. A hellhawk slid
out, deflating its distortion field immediately, and drifting inert. He
resisted the temptation to hail it. Shadowing him in such a fashion to
monitor his conduct was very unsubtle.

A radar pulse triggered the ships transponder: according to the code it
was called the Lucky Logorn. Rocio matched velocities with it, and opened
a short-range channel. This is the Organization ship Mindori, he told
them. Youre approaching New Californias Strategic Defence network
without clearance. Please identify yourself.

This is Deebank, I guess Im the captain around here. We havent been
advertising our presence in case we attracted those goddamn voidhawks.
Sorry about that, didnt mean to give you a scare. Wed like clearance to
rendezvous with a low orbit station.

Clearance refused. Return to your asteroid.

Now just a goddamn minute, were loyal members of the Organization here.
What gives you the right to order us about?

Rocio activated a maser cannon on his lower hull, and targeted one of the
thermo-dump panels plumbed into Lucky Logorns equipment bay. One. Im
not ordering you, Im relaying an instruction from the Organization.
Two. He fired.

The blast of coherent maser radiation thumped a half-metre hole into the
middle of the thermo-dump panel. Fluorescent orange shards spun away,
their glimmer slowly fading to black.

Fuck you, Deebank shouted. You bastards cant keep us out here
forever.

Realign your drive. Now. My second shot will be through your fusion
tube. Youll be left drifting out here. The only thing youll have to
occupy yourselves with is a sweepstake. Is your food going to run out
first? Or will it be the air? Then again, a voidhawk might pick you up,
and you get used as research lab beasts by the Confederation.

You piece of shit.

Im waiting. Rocio slid closer, picking up the resentment and anger
boiling through the eight people in the life support section. There was
bitter resignation in there, too.

Sure enough, the fusion drive plume twitched round, sending Lucky Logorn
on a shallow arc which would ultimately see it heading back to Almaden.
Cancelling so much delta-V was a long, energy expensive business. It
would take them hours.

Were going to remember you, Deebank promised. Time will come when you
need to join us. Dont expect it to be easy.

Join you where? Rocio asked, genuinely curious.

On a planet, dick-for-brains.

Is that what this was all about? Your fear of space?

What the hell did you think we were doing? Invading?

I wasnt told.

Okay. So now you understand, will you let us through?

I cant.

Bastard.

Rocio played for the sympathy angle, marshalling his thoughts into
contrite concern. I mean it. Theres another hellhawk shadowing me,
making sure I do what Im told. Theyre not certain about my commitment
to the cause, you see.

Hear that splashing sound? Thats my heart bleeding.

Why doesnt the Organization want you on New California?

Because they need the products Almaden makes in its industrial stations.
The asteroid has plenty of astroengineering companies who specialise in
weapons systems. And were the poor saps who have to terrorise
non-possessed technicians into keeping them running. You got any idea
what thats like? Its a crock of shit. I was a soldier when I was alive,
I used to fight the kind of fascists who enslaved people like this. Im
telling you, it aint right. It aint what I was brought up to do. None
of this is.

Then why stay in the Organization?

If you aint for Capone, youre against him. Thats the way it works.
Hes been real smart the way hes set things up. Those lieutenants of his
will do anything to keep their position. They put the screws on us, and
we have to put the screws on the non-possessed. If theres any trouble,
if we start to object, or get uppity, they just call on the fleet for
back up. Dont they? Youre the enforcers, you make it all hang together
for him.

We have our own enforcer, shes called Kiera.

The Deadnight babe? No shit? I wouldnt mind submitting my poor body to
some enforcement by her. Laughter rumbled across the gap between the
ships.

You wouldnt say that if youd ever met her.

Tough bitch, huh?

The worst.

You dont sound too happy about that.

You and I are in the same situation.

Yeah? So listen, maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement? I mean,
if we have to go back to Almaden, the lieutenants are going to make us
eat shit for pulling this stunt. Why dont you take us back to New
California, let us off at a low orbit station, or if youve got a
spaceplane we could use that. If we get down there to the surface, we
stay. Believe me. Thered be no comeback.

Fine for you.

Well get you a body. A human one, the very best there is. Theres
millions of non-possessed left on the planet; well get one ready for
possession and hold it for you. This way you get down there without any
of the risk well be going through. Listen, you can sense Im telling the
truth. Right?

Yes. But it doesnt interest me.

What? Why not? Come on! Its the greatest deal in town.

Not for me. You people really hate this empty universe, dont you?

Oh, like you dont? You were in the beyond. You can hear the beyond.
Its always there, just one step away on the other side from night. We
have to get away from that.

I dont.

Crap.

But I dont. Really. Certainly I can still hear the lost souls, but its
not as if they can touch me. All they are is a reminder of that
nothingness. Theyre not a threat themselves. Fear is the only thing that
drives you to escape. Ive got over that. Mindori belongs here in the
emptiness, this is its perfect milieu. Having this construct as my host
has taught me not to be afraid. Perhaps it should be you who try and find
blackhawk and voidhawk bodies? Can you imagine that? It would solve
everyones problem, without all this conflict and violence. If after you
die, you were to be given a voidhawk body to possess. Enough could be
grown for the lost souls, Im sure of it, given time and commitment. Then
ultimately, space would become filled with billions of us, the entire
human race transformed into dark angels flitting between the stars.

Hey, pal, know what? Possessing that monster didnt cure you, it made
you take a swan dive over the edge.

Perhaps. But which of us is content?

You got Kiera to worry about. Remember? How come you dont flap off into
the sunset?

As you say, Kiera is a problem.

Right, so dont come over all superior.

I wasnt. Your offer to deal interests me. It may be possible to come to
some arrangement. I have a notion, but itll take some time to check the
requirements. Once youre back on Almaden, Ill look you up.



Coming down to the gym in the Hiltons basement always stirred Kieras
darker animal feelings. She rather enjoyed her new role of laid back
vamp, letting her eye wander over the young men being put through their
paces by a gruff Malone. Their apprehension was pleasurable as they saw
her watching, the nudges and worried glances. It wasnt that shed never
had affairs back on New Munich, shed taken several lovers during her
marriage, both before and after her husbands fall from grace. But theyd
all been insipid, cautious encounters. Most of the thrill had come from
the concept of having an affair, of cheating and not getting caught. The
sex had never been anything special.

Now though, she was free to explore her sexuality to the full, with no
one to disapprove or condemn. Part of her allure came from being a woman
in power, she was a challenge to any male; the rest came from Marie
Skibbows gorgeous body. It was the second factor which brought her down
here to the non-possessed. Possessed lovers, like poor old Stanyon, were
so artificial. Men inevitably gave themselves big penises, could stay
erect all night, had Greek-god bodies. Strutting clichs, that spoke
volumes about their weaknesses and insecurities.

She much preferred the youngsters from the gym for the reality they
provided. Unable to hide behind any mental or physical illusion, sex with
them was raw and primitive. Dominating them in bed, without a single
inhibition, was utterly delicious. And Marie herself had a surprising
amount of knowledge which Kiera could extract and experiment with.
Despised memories and skill gained during a long river journey spent
capitulating to an old man called Len Buchannan. Enduring the nightly
humiliation for one reason alone, the freedom which waited at the end of
the river. The girl had a single minded determination which Kiera quite
admired. It came close to her own. Even now, captive and tragic, inside
her mental prison, Marie clung to the notion of deliverance.

But how? Kiera wondered lightly.

Somehow. One day.

Not with me in command of you.

Nothing lasts forever. As you know.

Kiera dismissed the impudent girl from her thoughts with a derisory
mental sneer. Her gaze found a rather delicious nineteen-year-old
hammering his fists into a long leather punch bag. The desperate
aggression and sweating muscles were highly arousing. He knew she was
standing behind him, but refused to turn. Hoping if he avoided eye
contact she would pass by. She crooked a finger at Malone, who came over
reluctantly.

Whats his name? she asked huskily.

Jamie. The squat trainers thoughts were full of contempt.

Are you frightened of me, Jamie?

He stopped punching, steadying the bag. Gentle grey eyes stared at her
levelly. You, no. What you can do, yeah.

She applauded languidly. Very good. Dont worry, Im not going to hurt
you. She glanced down at Malone. Ill bring him back to you in the
morning.

Malone took his cap off, and spat on the floor. Whatever you say, Kiera.

She walked right up to Jamie, enjoying his discomfort at her proximity.
Oh dear, Im not that bad am I? she murmured.

He was a head taller than her. When he looked down, his eyes were drawn
the rich tanned skin revealed by her mauve summer dress. Embarrassment
warred with other, more subtle emotions. Kiera grinned in victory. At
least something was going right tonight. Capone and his damn sedition
plans! She took his big hand in hers, and began to lead him out of the
gym like a giant puppy. Before she reached the double doors, they swung
open. Luigi barged through, carrying a pile of towels. He caught sight of
Kiera, and glared angrily. Commander of the fleet, now running trivial
demeaning errands for the nonentity Malone. The resentment twisting him
up was almost strong enough to manifest itself as pernicious violence; he
was sure she was here simply to witness his humiliation first hand. The
bosss new favourite gloating over her ex-rivals downfall.

Luigi, Kiera said brightly. Fancy seeing you here. How wonderful.

Piss off, bitch. He elbowed past her, scowling.

After the towels, will you be going down on your knees to tie up their
shoes?

Luigi twisted in mid step, and marched back to her. He thrust his head
forward so their noses were touching. Youre a whore. A very cheap
whore. With only one thing to sell. When the Organization has used up
your hellhawks, youll be nothing. Best thing is, you know its coming.
Your bullshit ice empress routine doesnt fool anyone. This whole damn
asteroid is laughing at you.

Of course its coming, she said serenely. But they wouldnt be used up
if the fleet was commanded properly.

Confusion marred his face and his thoughts. What?

That uncertainty was enough for Kiera. She patted Jamies heavily muscled
forearm. Why dont you take those heavy towels from Luigi, darling. It
looks like I wont be needing you tonight, after all.

Jamie peered over the pile of towels unexpectedly dumped in his arms,
watching the doors close behind Kiera and Luigi. I dont get it, he
complained. Part of him had actually been quite looking forward to the
sex, despite what the others kept saying about the Deadnight witch.

Malone patted the big lads shoulder in a paternal fashion. Dont worry
about it, my boy. Youre well off out of that kind of scene.



Given Dr Pierce Gilmores senior position within the CNISs scientific
staff, weapons analysis division, it was inevitable that a large part of
his nature tended towards the bureaucratic. Precise and methodical in his
work, he believed strongly in following sanctioned procedures to the
letter during his investigations. Such adherence to protocol was
something of a joke among his departments junior staff, who accused him
of inflexibility and lack of imagination. He endured their
behind-his-back humour stoically, while politely and consistently
refusing to take short cuts and play up to wild hunches. To his credit,
it was exactly the kind of leadership the weapons division needed.
Eternal patience is a prime requisite in the dismantling of unknown
weapons that have been designed illegally (mostly under government
patronage) and tend to incorporate elements that actively discourage
close examination. In the seven years hed held his post, the divisions
safety record was exemplary.

Also to his credit, he didnt indulge in the usual internal empire
building so beloved of government employees, especially those who, like
him, were essentially unaccountable. As a result, his office was a modest
one, roughly equivalent to the entitlement of a middle manager in some
multistellar company. There were few personal items, some ornaments and
desktop solid images; a shelf of Stanhopea orchids flourishing under a
slim solaris tube. The furniture was formal, a comfortable reproduction
of the flared darkwood Midwest-ethnic style hed grown up with. Broad
holographic windows of Cheyennes heroically rugged countryside did
little to disguise the rooms actual location, buried deep inside
Trafalgar. In its favour, the electronic suite Gilmore had installed was
a top-of-the range Edenist processor array verging on AI status. Such a
system helped facilitate the twice weekly multi-disciplinary councils he
chaired to investigate the capabilities of the possessed.

This was the second time the team heads had met since Jacqueline Couteur
had made her bid for freedom in maximum security court three, and the
aftermath was still affecting everyones mood. Professor Nowak, the
quantum physicist, was first to arrive, helping himself to some of the
coffee from the percolator jug which Gilmore kept going full time. Dr
Hemmatu, the energy specialist, and Yusuf, the electronics chief, came in
together talking in low tones. They gave Gilmore a perfunctory nod and
sat down at the conference desk. Mattox was next, the neurology doctor
keeping to himself as usual, choosing a chair one along the desk from
Yusuf. Euru completed the group, sitting directly opposite Gilmore. In
contrast to the rest of them, the dark-skinned Edenist appeared almost
indecently happy.

Gilmore had known his deputy long enough to see it wasnt just the usual
contentment which all Edenists shared. You have something? he enquired.

A voidhawk has just arrived from the Sinagra system. It was carrying an
interesting recording.

Hemmatu perked up. From Valisk? The independent habitat had supplied a
large amount of very useful data on the behaviour of the possessed before
it vanished.

Yes, just before Rubra and Dariat took it away, Euru said, smiling
broadly. He instructed his bitek processor block to datavise the file to
them.

The sensevise they received was a strange one, lacking the resolution
normally associated with full nerve channel input. Conversions from
Edenist habitat memories to a standard Adamist electronic format were
notoriously quirky, but this was something else again. Nesting within its
environment of pastel colours, tenuous scents, and mild tactorials,
Gilmore tried bravely to avoid using the connotation: spectral. He failed
dismally.

The memory was of Dariat, while he bobbed about on the surface of some
icy water inside a dark polyp-walled tube. The cold was severe enough to
penetrate even his energistic protection, judging by the way it was
numbing his appropriated limbs, and making him shiver. A plump black
woman clung to him, shaking violently inside her strange waistcoat of
cushions.

<< Did you gain any impression of size? >>the Kohistan Consensus asked
Dariat.

<< Not really, a universe is a universe. How big is this one? >>

Consensus received his quick recollection of the beyond. His soul had
become a feeble flicker of identity adrift in a nowhere at one remove
from reality. Nowhere full of similar souls; all of them with the same
craving, the sensations available on the other side.

The memory of someone elses memory: if the sensenviron of the Valisk
starscraper waste tube was tenuous, this was as insubstantial as a
nearly-forgotten dream. The beyond, as far as Dariat was concerned,
lacked any physical sensation, all that betrayed its presence was a
transparent tapestry of emotions. Anguish and yearning flooded through
the realm Souls clustered round, desperately suckling at his memories for
the illusion of physical sensation they contained.

Confusion and fear reigned in Dariats mind. He wanted to flee. He wanted
to plunge into the glorious star of sensation burning so bright as Kiera
and Stanyon forced open a path into Horgans body. The beyond withered
behind him as he surged along the tear through the barrier between planes
of existence.

<< And how do you control the energistic power? >>Consensus asked.

Dariat gave them a visualization (perfectly clear this time) of desire
overlaying actuality. More handsome features, thicker hair, brighter
clothes. Like a hologram projection, but backed up by energy oozing out
of the beyond to shore it up, providing solidity. Also, the destructive
power, a mental thunderbolt, aimed and thrown amid boiling passion. The
rush of energy from the beyond increasing a thousandfold, sizzling
through the possessed body like an electric charge.

<< What about senses? This ESP faculty you have? >>The world around him
altered, shifting to slippery shadows.

There were several more questions and observations on the nature of
Dariats state, which the rebel possessor did his best to answer. In
total, the recording amounted to over fifteen minutes.

Wealth indeed, Gilmore said when it ended. This kind of clarification
is just what we need to pursue a solution. It seemed to me as though
Dariat actually had some freedom of movement in the beyond. To my mind,
that implies physical dimensions.

A strange sort of space, Nowak said. From the way the souls were
pressed close enough to overlap, there appeared to be very little of it.
I wont call it a place, but its definitely a unified area. It was
almost a closed continuum, yet we know it exists in parallel to our own
universe, so it must have infinite depth. Thats damn close to being
paradoxical. He shrugged, disturbed by his own reasoning.

That perception ability Dariat demonstrated interests me, Euru
commented. The effect is remarkably similar to a voidhawks mass
perception sense.

Gilmore looked across his desk to the tall Edenist, inviting him to
continue.

Id say the possessed must be interpreting local energy resonances.
Whatever type of energy they operate within, we know it pervades our
universe, even if we cant distinguish it ourselves yet.

If youre right, Nowak said, thats a further indication that our
universe is conjunctive with this beyond realm, that there is no single
interface point.

There has to be an identifiable connection, Euru said. Dariat was
clearly aware of the lost souls while he occupied Horgans body. He could
hear themfor want of a better phrase. They were pleading with the
possessors the whole time, asking to be given bodies. Somewhere there is
a connection, a conduit leading back there.

Gilmore glanced round the desk to see if anyone else wanted to pick up on
the point. They were all silent, concentrating on the implications Euru
and Nowak raised. Ive been considering that we might need to approach
this from a different angle, he said. After all, weve had a singular
lack of success in trying to analyse the quantum signature of the effect,
perhaps we should concentrate less on the exact nature of the beast, and
more on what it does and implies.

In order to deal with it, we have to identify it, Yusuf said.

Im not advocating a brute force and ignorance approach, Gilmore
replied. But consider; when this crisis started, we believed we were
dealing with an outbreak of some energy virus. I maintain that is
essentially what we have here. Our souls are self-contained patterns
capable of existence and travel outside the matrix of our bodies.
Hemmatu, how would you say they are formed?

The energy expert stroked his cheek with long fingers, pondering the
question. Yes, I think I see what youre driving at. The beyond energy
is apparently present in all matter, including cells, although the
quantity involved must necessarily be extremely tenuous. Therefore as
intelligence arises during life, it imprints itself into this energy
somehow.

Exactly, Gilmore said. The thought patterns which arise in our neurone
structure retain their cohesion once the brain dies. That is our soul.
Theres nothing spiritual or religious about it, the entire concept is an
entirely natural phenomenon, given the nature of the universe.

Im not sure about denying religion, Nowak said. Being inescapably
plugged into the universe at such a fundamental level seems somewhat
spiritually impressive to me. Being at one with the cosmos, literally,
makes us all part of Gods creation. Surely?

Gilmore couldnt quite work out if he was joking. A lot of physicists
took to religion as they struggled with the unknowable boundaries of
cosmology, almost as many as embraced atheism. If we could just put that
aside for the moment, please?

Nowak grinned, waving a hand generously.

What Im getting at is that something is responsible for retaining a
souls cohesion. Something glues those thoughts and memories together.
When Syrinx interviewed Malva, she was told: Life begets souls. That it
is the pattern which sentience and self awareness exerts on the energy
within the biological body.

So souls accrue from the reaction of thoughts upon this energy, Nowak
said. Im not disputing the hypothesis. But how can that help us?

Because its only us: humans. Animals dont have souls. Dariat and Laton
never mentioned encountering them.

They never mentioned encountering alien souls either, Mattox said. But
according to the Kiint, theyre there.

Its a big universe, Nowak said.

No, Gilmore countered. That cant apply. Only some souls are trapped
in the section we know about, the area near the boundary. Laton as good
as confirmed that. After death, its possible to embark on the great
journey. Again, his words.

Euru shook his head sadly. I wish I could believe him.

In this I agree with him, not that it has much bearing on my principal
contention.

Which is? Mattox asked.

I believe I know the glue which holds souls together. It has to be
sentience. Consider, an animal like a dog or cat has its individuality as
a biological entity, but no soul. Why not? It has a neural structure, it
has memories, it has thought processes operating inside that neural
structure. Yet when it dies, all that loses coherence. Without a focus, a
strong sense of identity, the pattern dissolves. There is no order.

The formless void, Nowak muttered in amusement.

Gilmore disregarded the jibe. We know a soul is a coherent entity, and
both Couteur and Dariat have confirmed there is a timeflow within the
beyond. They suffer entropy just as we do. I am convinced that makes them
vulnerable.

How? Mattox asked sharply.

We can introduce change. Energy, the actual substance of souls, cannot
be destroyed, but it can certainly be dissipated or broken up, returned
to a primordial state.

Ah yes. Hemmatu smiled in admiration. Now I follow your logic. Indeed,
we have to reintroduce some chaos into their lives.

Euru gave Gilmore a shocked stare. Kill them?

Acquire the ability to kill them, Gilmore responded smoothly. If they
have the ability to leave the part or state of the beyond where they are
now, they must clearly be forced to do so. The prospect of death, real
final death, would provide them with the spur to leave us alone.

How? Euru asked. What would be the method?

A virus of the mind, Gilmore said. A universal anti-memory that would
spread through thought processes, fracturing them as it went. The beauty
of it is, the possessed are constantly merging their thoughts with one
another to fulfil their quest for sensation. En masse, they are a mental
superconductor.

You might just be on to something here, Hemmatu said. Are there such
things as anti-memory?

There are several weapons designed to disable a targets mental
processes, Mattox said. Most of them are chemical or biological agents.
However, I do know of some that are based upon didactic imprint memories.
But so far my colleagues have only produced variants that induce extreme
psychotic disorders such as paranoia or schizophrenia.

Thats all we need, Nowak grunted. Extra demented lost souls. Theyre
quite barmy enough as it is.

Gilmore gave him a disapproving glance. Would an anti-memory be
possible, theoretically? he asked Mattox.

I cant think of any immediate show-stoppers.

Surely it would just self-destruct? Yusuf said. If it eradicates the
mechanism of its own conductivity, how can it sustain itself?

Wed need something that rides just ahead of its own destruction wave,
Mattox said. Again, its not a theoretical impossibility.

Nobody said the concept wouldnt need considerable development work,
Gilmore said.

And trials, Euru said. His handsome face was showing a considerable
amount of unease. Dont forget that phase. We would need a sentient
being to experiment on. Probably several.

We have Couteur, Gilmore muttered. He acknowledged the Edenists silent
censure. Sorry: natural thought. She caused us more than her fair share
of trouble in court three.

Im sure there will be bitek neural systems adequate for the purpose,
Mattox said hurriedly. We dont have to use humans at this stage.

Very well, Gilmore said. Unless anyone has any objections, Id like to
prioritize this project. The First Admiral has been placing considerable
pressure on us for an overall solution for some time. Itll be a relief
to report we might be able to finally go on the offensive against the
possessed.



Edenist habitats gossiped among themselves. The discovery first
surprised, then amused Ione and Tranquillity. But then their multiplicity
personalities were made up from millions of people, who like all the
elderly were keen to see how their young relatives were doing and spread
the word among friends. The personalities were also integral to Edenist
culture, so naturally they took an avid interest in human affairs for the
reaction it would ultimately have upon themselves. The minutiae of
political, social, and economic behaviour from the Confederation at large
was absorbed, debated, and meditated upon. Knowledge was the right of all
Edenists. It was just the method of passing on the more miscellaneous
chunks which was delightfully quirky. Manifold sub-groups would form
within every personality, with interests as varied as classical
literature to xenobiology; early industrial age steam trains to Oort
cloud formations. There was nothing formal, nothing ordained about such
clusterings of cognate mentalities. It was, simply, the way it was. An
informal anarchy.

Observing this, Tranquillity began to consider itself the equivalent of
some ageing uncle overseeing a brood of unruly young cousins. Its own
decorum generated a mild feeling of alienation from its contemporaries
(which Ione also found amusing). Only when the full Jovian Consensus,
with all its solemn nobility, arose from the gabbling minds, was there a
notion of kinship.

By the time Tranquillity did arrive at Jupiter, there were literally
millions of sub-groups convening within the habitat personalities to
consider every possible aspect of the possession problem (essentially,
Gilmores committee to the Nth degree). Eager to participate in the
search for a solution, Tranquillity contributed its memories and
conclusions of the crisis to date; information which was eagerly
disseminated and deliberated over. Among the groupings who surveyed all
matters religious, the most interesting development was the Kiints
curiosity in the Tyrathcas Sleeping God. The question of what the
Sleeping God might actually be was passed to the cosmology groupings.
They didnt have much of an idea, so they queried the xenopsychology
field. In turn, they wondered if the enigma would be better served by the
xenocultural historians . . .

At which point, two very distinct (and in their different ways, very
important) mentalities among the collective personalities became aware of
the Sleeping God problem. The sub-Consensus for security and Wing-Tsit
Chong together decided the matter was best dealt with by themselves and a
few of their own specialists. In collaberation with Ione, of course.



Joshua had a bad feeling about Ione calling him to a conference without
being told the reason. There were resonances of being asked to go after
Mzu coming into play. It got worse when she told him it was to be
convened in De Bouvoir Palace. That meant it was going to be formal,
official.

When he arrived at the small tube station which served visitors to the
Palace, Mzu was climbing the steps ahead of him. He wanted to turn round
and go back to supervising Lady Macs refit. But at least this was as bad
as it could possibly get. They made laboured small talk as they walked
along the dark-yellow stone path to the classical building. Mzu didnt
know why shed been invited, either.

A horde of servitor chimps were scurrying about on either side of the
path, along with specialist agronomy servitors. All of them were busy
repairing the once immaculate parkland. Grass had been trampled into mud
by thousands of dancing feet, topiary bushes were knocked into odd
shapes, with bottles sticking out of unusual crevices. But it was the
tomis shrubs which had taken the worst battering; with their blue and
gold trumpet-shaped flowers torn from broken branches to form a brown,
slippery mat across the path. The servitors were optimistically trying to
repair them with adroit pruning and staking; though the smaller ones were
simply being replaced. Vandalism on such a scale was unheard of in
Tranquillity. Though Joshua did have to smile at the pile of clothes
which the chimps had gathered up. It was mostly underwear.

A pair of serjeants were on guard duty outside the basilicas archway
entrance. The Lord of Ruin is expecting you, one intoned. It led them
along the nave to the audience chamber.

Ione sat in her accustomed place behind the crescent table in the centre.
Long, flat streamers of light from the towering windows intersected
around her, giving her an almost saintly portrayal. Joshua was hard
pressed not to comment on the theatre of the moment when she smiled a
welcome, but he played the game and bowed solemnly. Mzu was given a more
punctilious nod of recognition. There were six high-backed chairs set up
along the convex side of the table, four of them already occupied. Joshua
knew Parker Higgens; Samuel was there as well; but he had to run a search
through his neural nanonics to name the Laymil projects chief
astronomer, Kempster Getchell. The fourth turned to face him . . .

You!

Hello, Joshua, Syrinx said. The possibility of a smile teased her lips.

Oh, Ione murmured in a suspiciously sweet tone. Do you two know each
other?

Joshua gave Ione a punitive look, then went over to Syrinx and gave her a
light kiss on the cheek. I heard what happened on Pernik. Im glad you
came through it all right.

She touched the medical nanonic on his hand. Im not the only one whos
come through, apparently.

Joshua returned the smile, and sat next to her.

Theres a file I want you and Dr Mzu to review before we start, Ione
told him.

The miserable scene of Coastuc-RT swamped Joshuas mind; with Waboto-YAU
arguing through its translator, and the two menacing soldier-caste
Tyrathca standing close to Reza Malin. Hed avoided accessing most of
Kellys recordings when Collins released them. Lalonde was one planet he
didnt want to return to by any method. The close presence of the
mercenary leader was a shortcut to emotions hed rather leave dormant.

When the recording ended, he looked up to see one of the long glass
windows behind Ione had darkened. Instead of emitting strong golden
light, it now contained the image of an ancient Oriental man sitting in
an antique wheelchair.

Wing-Tsit Chong will speak for the Jovian Consensus today, Ione
announced.

Right, Joshua said. He loaded that name into a search program, ready to
run it through his memory files.

Syrinx leant across. The founder of Edenism, she said softly. Quite a
major historical figure, in fact.

Name the inventor of the ZTT drive, Joshua retorted.

Julian Wan normally gets the credit. Although technically he was only
the head of the New Kong asteroids stardrive research team; a
bureaucrat, basically.

Joshua frowned in pique.

Possibly the present would provide us with a more suitable topic for
discussion, Wing-Tsit Chong chided gently.

The Sleeping God throws up a number of questions, Ione said. Very
relevant questions, given the Tyrathcas psychology. They believed it
would be able to help them against possessed humans. And they dont lie.

So far this entity or object has made no appreciable impact upon our
situation, Wing-Tsit Chong said. Implying three options. It is a myth,
and the Tyrathca were either fooled or mistaken by their encounter with
it. It is not capable of assisting them. Or it does exist, it is capable,
and it has simply restrained itself, so far.

That third implication is the most interesting, Kempster said. Its an
assumption that the Sleeping God is sentient, or at lest self-aware;
which rules out a celestial event.

I always concurred with the artefact possibility myself, Parker Higgens
said. The arkship Tyrathca would surely recognize a celestial event for
what it was. And celestial events dont keep watch. Waboto-YAU was quite
insistent about that. The Sleeping God dreams of the universe, it knows
everything.

I concur, Wing-Tsit Chong said. This entity has been assigned
extraordinary perceptive powers by the Tyrathca. Although we can assume
the memories of Sireth-AFLs family would become open to degradation down
the centuries, the major elements must retain their integrity. Something
very unusual is out there.

Have you asked the Kiint direct what it is, and what their interest is?
Joshua asked.

Yes. They claim a total lack of knowledge on the subject. Ambassador
Armira simply repeats Lierias claim that they are interested in the full
record of Kelly Tirrels sojourn on Lalonde so they might understand the
nature of human possession.

They might be telling the truth.

No, Parker Higgens said forcefully. Not them. Theyve been lying to us
since first contact. This is more than coincidence. The Kiint are
desperately interested. And Id love to beat them to it.

A race that can teleport? Joshua said light heartedly. The old
directors vehemence was out of character here.

Even if the Kiint arent interested, Ione said swiftly, we certainly
are. The Tyrathca believe it to be real and able to assist them. That
alone justifies sending a mission to it.

Wait Joshua said. He couldnt believe hed been so slow. You want me
to go after it, dont you?

Thats why youre here, Ione answered calmly. I believe you said you
wanted to make a contribution?

Yes, I did. There was a residue of reluctance in the acknowledgement.
Some of the old bravado. I want to originate the solution. Claim all the
glory. Shades of the good old days.

He grinned at Ione, wondering if shed guessed what he was thinking. More
than likely. But if there was a chance this xenoc God might have an
answer, he wanted in. He owed a lot of people the effort. His dead crew.
His unborn child. Louise and the rest of Norfolk. Even himself, now he
refused to avoid thinking of death and the mysteries that inaugurated.
Facing up to fate in such a fashion might be frightening, but it made
living a hell of a lot easier. And, to be honest with himself, so did the
prospect of flying again.

And so, I believe, did Syrinx, Ione said. The voidhawk captain nodded
admission.

The Kiint stonewalled you, huh? Joshua asked.

Malva was very polite about it, but essentially, yes.

Joshua settled back, gazing up at the domed ceiling. Let me see. If a
Tyrathca arkship encountered this God, then it has to be a long way off,
a very long way. Not too much problem for a voidhawk, but . . . ah, now I
get it. The antimatter. Lady Macs inclusion was obvious now. Her
delta-V reserve was currently five or six times greater than most Adamist
warships, making her an obvious candidate to surmount the problem of
galactic orbital mechanics. For starships, theres a lot more than just
distance to the gulf between stars. Ultimately, it is velocity which
governs their design and finances.

Earths sun orbits the galactic centre roughly once every two hundred and
thirty million years, giving it an approximate velocity of two hundred
and twenty kilometres per second relative to the core. Other stars, of
course, have different orbital velocities, depending on their distance
from the core, so their velocities relative to each other are also
different. Voidhawks can cope with the variance by tailoring their
wormhole terminus to match a local stars vector. Its a manoeuvre which
uses up an inconvenient amount of energy from the patterning cells;
however, because they obtain their energy for free it doesnt affect
their commercial performance except in terms of recharging time. But for
Adamist starship captains, that variance isnt merely inconvenient, its
a positive bane. The ZTT jump might provide a short cut across the
interstellar gulf, but it cannot magically change inertia. A starship
emerging from a jump has precisely the same vector it had when it
started. In order to rendezvous with the planet or asteroid at its
destination, its delta-V has to be altered to match. Its a tedious
process which uses up plenty of fuel; in other words, it costs money. And
the further the stars are away from each other, the greater the velocity
difference. For most Adamist starships, a flight right across the longest
axis of Confederation space, a distance approaching nine hundred
light-years, would use up over ninety per cent of their reaction drive
fuel. Several marques would be incapable of the feat anyway. The limit is
imposed because they all used fusion drives.

Antimatter, of course, provided a vastly superior delta-V. And the
antimatter Lady Mac had taken on board from the Beezling was still in her
confinement chambers. The First Admiral had given Samuel instructions for
the secure military facilities at Jupiter to dispose of it. One of the
five specialist ships qualified to handle the substance was still en
route to Tranquillity.

There is a high possibility that a long flight will be required to bring
this task to a fruitful conclusion, Wing-Tsit Chong said. I
congratulate you on your clarity of thought, young Joshua.

Syrinx and Ione swapped a glance. Youre going to let him use
antimatter? Mzu asked in surprise.

A voidhawk and Adamist starship are a good pairing for this kind of
assignment, Syrinx said. Both of us have strengths and weaknesses which
complement the other. Providing the Adamist ship can manage to keep up
with a voidhawk, of course.

Outperform, or outsmart? Joshua asked civilly.

All right, Mzu said. So why am I here?

We believed you might be able to help us analyse the nature of the
Sleeping God, Kempster Getchell said. Especially if it turns out to be
a high-technology weapon rather than a natural phenomenon, which is my
field.

Alkad glanced round at their faces, depressed when she knew she should
have been flattered. I had one idea, she said. Once. Thirty years ago.

One original insight, Wing-Tsit Chong said. Which is one more than
most people have had, or ever will have. You have a mind which is capable
of it. An ability which can innovate on such a level is an asset we
cannot overlook.

What about Foulkes? Alkad asked Samuel.

If you agree to participate, Ill speak with her. The non-contact
prohibition placed upon you does not apply in this situation. You will be
permitted to fly on this mission. However, I will accompany you along
with Monica.

Im flattered.

Dont be. And please dont interpret our continued presence as approval
for what you did. It so happens, that there are sections of this mission
which require the kind of ability which Monica and I specialise in.

How very enigmatic. Very well, if you think Im the right person for the
job, Id be honoured to take part.

Good, Ione said.

But Ill need Peter with me.

This isnt a honeymoon cruise, Samuel told her, reproachfully.

We worked as a team putting the Alchemist together. Its a synergistic
relationship.

Somehow, I doubt that, Ione said. But for arguments sake, Ill permit
you to ask him if he wants to accompany you.

So where were you thinking of sending us? Joshua asked.

Regretfully, you will have to go directly to the source, Wing-Tsit
Chong said. Which is one of the reasons this mission is being assembled
under the auspices of the Jovian security sub-Consensus. A thorough
search of xenology records both at Jupiter and Earth have revealed
absolutely no reference to the Sleeping God. The Tyrathca have never
mentioned it to us before.

The source? Oh Jesus, you mean Hesperi-LN, the Tyrathca home planet?

Initially, yes. Waboto-YAU told us that it was another arkship which
encountered the Sleeping God, not Tanjuntic-RI. Therefore, that arkship
must have lasered the information to all the other Tyrathca arkships in
the exodus fleet. We must hope that a recording of that message is still
aboard Tanjuntic-RI. If you can find it, you may be able to establish the
approximate location of the encounter.

That could be a long way off, Joshua said. His neural nanonics started
to access almanac and Tyrathca history files from memory cells, running
them through a navigation program. The result rising into his mind in the
form of gold and scarlet icons was both fascinating and alarming.
Hesperi-LN isnt their genuine home planet, remember. Its just the last
colony world Tanjuntic-RI founded. Look, the original Tyrathca star,
Mastrit-PJ, the one they escaped from is on the other side of the Orion
Nebula. That puts it at least 1,600 light-years away. Now if we get real
unlucky, and the arkship which found the Sleeping God was going in the
opposite direction to Tanjuntic-RI, youre talking twice as far.

We are aware of that, Wing-Tsit Chong said.

Joshua sighed with indubitable regret. To take Lady Mac on such a voyage
would have been awesome. Im sorry, there isnt that much antimatter
left. I cant take the old girl that far.

We are aware of your starships performance capabilities, Wing-Tsit
Chong said. However there is a supply of antimatter which you will be
able to use.

You keep some here at Jupiter? Joshua asked in what he figured was a
casual voice.

No, Syrinx said. A CNIS agent called Erick Thakara located a
production station which may be supplying Capone.

Thakara Joshuas search program located the appropriate file; he
locked eyes with Ione. Really? Thats . . . helpful.

With the 1st fleet somewhat overstretched, the First Admirals staff
have asked for Jupiters voidhawks to tackle it, Samuel said.

Which they are preparing to do, Wing-Tsit Chong said. However, before
the station is finally annihilated, you will be able to take on board as
much antimatter as the Lady Macbeths confinement systems can handle.

Three thousand light-years, Joshua murmured. Jesus.

Meredith Saldanas task force has a large contingent of Confederation
Navy marines assigned to it, Ione said. Theyll secure the station for
you once the personnel surrender to the voidhawk squadron.

What if the station operatives just suicide? Joshua said. They usually
do when the Navy confronts them.

And take as many of us with them as they can, Syrinx whispered.

They will be offered a penal planet sentence instead of the usual death
penalty, Samuel said. We can only hope that proves attractive enough to
them.

All right, but even if we load Lady Mac with enough antimatter, the
Tyrathca have ended communications with the Confederation, Joshua said.
Do you really think theyll allow us to search through Tanjuntic-RIs
electronic systems?

Probably not, Samuel said. But as we dont intend to ask their
permission, it doesnt really matter, does it?


Chapter 07
==========


You didnt have to be attuned to the land like a possessed to know it was
about to happen. Most of Ombeys population was aware the time had come.

Day after day the news companies had been broadcasting sensevises from
rover reporters covering the build up of Liberation forces. Everybody
knew somebody who was connected to somebody who was involved in some way;
from hauling equipment out to Fort Forward to serving drinks to Edenists
in spaceport bars. Speculation on the current affairs programmes was
deliberately vague about specific dates and precise numbers, even the
communication net gossips were showing restraint in naming the day.
Hearsay aside, the evidence was pretty solid.

The type of cargoes raining down on the planet had changed. Combat gear
was slowly being replaced by heavy-duty civil engineering equipment,
ready to repair the expected damage to Mortonridge and provide additional
support infrastructure for the occupying forces. The personnel arriving
at Fort Forward were also subject to a shift in professions. Just under a
million serjeants had been sent from Jupiter, along with nearly a quarter
of a million marines and mercenaries from across the Confederation. The
Liberation army was essentially complete. So now it was the medical teams
being ferried down from orbit, civilian volunteers complementing entire
mobile military hospitals. Estimated casualty figures (both military and
civilian) were strictly classified. But everyone knew the twelve thousand
medical staff were going to suffer a heavy workload. Eighty voidhawks had
already been assigned evac duties, spreading the wounded around
facilities in the Kingdom and its allies.

Throughout the seventh day following Princess Kirstens visit, Ralph
Hiltch and his command staff studied the figures and displays provided by
the AI. The neuroiconic image which accumulated in his mind kept
expanding as more information was correlated. By late afternoon, his
conscious perception point seemed to be hanging below a supergalaxy of
multicoloured stars, which threatened to make him giddy as he tried to
examine it in all directions at once. Despite its coherence, what he
really wanted was more training time, more transport, more supplies, and
definitely more intelligence assessments of the terrain ahead. But
essentially, his army was as ready as it would ever be. He gave the order
for final stage deployment to begin.

Over half of the serjeants and their back-up brigades had already left
Fort Forward. The previous two days had been spent mustering at their
preliminary positions offshore. Nearly a hundred islands around
Mortonridges coast had been taken over as temporary depots; from reefs
which barely showed above the waves to resort atolls dotted with luxury
hotels. Where there were no convenient scraps of land, huge cargo ships
had been hurriedly converted into floating docks, and anchored thirty
kilometres from the shore.

For the first stage of the coastal assault, the army was scheduled to use
boats. They were actually going to storm ashore, wading through the waves
and up onto the sand, almost in homage to a great many of the
incarnations from the past they were facing. Ralph wasnt prepared to
risk flying even the simplest of aircraft into the energistic environment
over Mortonridge, not until after theyd dealt with the red cloud at
least.

The remainder of the Liberation ground forces emptied out of Fort Forward
in massive convoys, spreading out along the firebreak in thousands of
multi-terrain vehicles. There was no attempt at secrecy, no hugging the
cover behind ridges and hills. The squads drove through the encroaching
twilight and into the night; the nimbus of their massed headlight beams
creeping like an anaemic dawn along the horizon paralleling the firebreak.

Across Xingu, a civil curfew order was enacted once again, with the
police put on full alert. Although they were fairly sure no possessed
were left outside Mortonridge, the continents authorities were taking
Annette Ekelunds threat of sabotage very seriously. When dawn arrived,
no civilian would be allowed out onto the streets. People grumbled and
groaned, and datavised protests to local news shows, remembering what a
nuisance the curfew had been last time. It was almost a bravado show of
defiance. In the main, they just settled back and accessed the show.

High above the planet, the Strategic Defence centre on Guyana began
coordinating the Royal Navys part of the assault. Thrusters flared on
low orbit weapons platforms, refining their new orbits. A flotilla of
three hundred voidhawks also began to accelerate, synchronizing their
distortion fields to rise away from the planet in a long curve.

The psychic pressure mounting against Mortonridge shifted from faint
intimation to blatantly unmistakable.



To casual observation, Chainbridge was still a busy town. When Annette
Ekelund reached a slight ridge a couple of kilometres from the outskirts,
she stopped the sturdy country rover she was driving and looked back over
her shoulder. Hundreds of lighted windows shone out across the lame
farmland, burning steady against the flickering crimson waves scattered
down from the lumbering cloud roof. The buildings were warm, too, warm
enough to fool any perfunctory sensor scans into believing they were
occupied. But no one was left there, her command group was the last to
leave.

Itll keep the blighters tied up for a while, Delvan assured her. He
was sitting in the passenger seat beside her, clad in his old khaki
uniform, a discreet row of scarlet and gold ribbons on his chest.

In the back seat, Soi Hon veiled a sneer. He, too, had reverted to type:
dark jungle fatigues and a felt bush-ranger hat. For at least a quarter
of an hour.

Would you like to return to the beyond fifteen minutes early? Delvan
enquired lightly.

Any time we delay them is good time, Annette told the pair of them. She
took the brake off, and accelerated down the secondary road. They were
heading for Cold Overton, a small village eighty kilometres away. Their
field command centre; picked virtually at random by Soi Hon, central but
not strategically so, adequate road links, surrounded by thick forest. It
was as good as any, not that theyd be staying long. Fluid tactics was
the key to this campaign.

Soi Hon clapped Delvan on the shoulder. And this is our time, eh? You
and I both. Onward to death and glory.

There is no glory here. Delvan spoke so quietly, the others could only
just hear him against the bass grumble of thunder.

Dont tell me youre having second thoughts?

I heard my men wailing at night, the old soldier replied emotionlessly.
The ones left out in No Mans Land, left behind to drown in puddles of
their own blood; the ones that werent vomiting their lungs up from that
devilish gas. Screaming for us to help them, more frightened at being
alone than they were of being shot.

You Christians, you always take life so personally. Were here by
accident, not design. Nothing is ordained, you are only what you make of
yourself. You can never go back, the past doesnt change. Stop thinking
about it. The only part of history which matters is the future.

It broke my heart, not being able to help them. Good, decent men; boys a
lot of them. I swore Id never get involved in such madness again. They
called it total war. But it wasnt, it was total bloody murder. Insanity
had become a disease, and we all caught it. Twice in my lifetime my
nation sent its youth out to die for a just cause, to protect ourselves
and our way of life. He smiled frigidly at the eco warrior. And now
here I am once again. Seven bloody centuries later. Seven hundred years,
and nothing has changed. Not one damn thing. Im fighting to preserve
myself and my new life. A righteous war with me on the side of the
angels, even though theyve become fallen angels. And I can already hear
the screams, God help me.

All I hear is our victory song, Soi Hon said. The voice of the land is
louder and stronger than any human cry. This is our place, we are at one
with it. We belong here. We have a right to exist in this universe.

Delvan closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Lord forgive me I am
such a fool. Here we all are, embarking on a crusade to storm the very
gates of Heaven Itself in our desperation. What a monumental folly. I
shall smite at the dark angels massed against us, crying for death, for
only in death will we ever find peace. Yet You have already revealed that
death is not our destiny, nor ever can be.

Wake up, old man. Were not fighting God, were fighting an unjust
universe.

For the first time since his return from the beyond, Delvan smiled. You
think theres a difference?



The island was enchanting, its botany and geology combining into the kind
of synergistic idyll which was the grail of Edenist habitat designers.
Inland, there were craggy rocks hosting long white waterfalls, and thick
lush forests choked with sweet-scented flowers. The shore comprised cove
after cove, their pale gold sands gleaming under the azure sky; except
for one, where the offshore reef crumbled under the foaming breakers to
give the sands an exquisite fairydust coating of pink coral. It appealed
to humans on a primal level, urging them to slow down and spend time just
soaking in nature. As a reward for their worship, time itself would
expand and become almost meaningless.

Even in his current existence, Sinon wished he was staying longer than
their eighteen-hour stopover. Five thousand serjeants had descended on
this tiny jewel of land glinting in the ocean, along with their equipment
and support personnel. Marines were camped ten to a room in the resort
hotels; gardens and tennis courts had been requisitioned as landing pads;
and the coves were harbours for a hundred of the regiments landing
boats. All day, the boats had taken their turn to nuzzle the shore,
extending their forward ramps so that jeeps and light trucks could drive
on board. Now, in the evening, the serjeants were finally embarking.

<< Syrinx would like this place, >>Sinon told Choma. << I must tell her
about it. >>He was two thirds of the way along a line of serjeants who
were wading out to their landing boat. There wasnt enough room on this
particular beach to berth more than three boats at a time, so the other
eleven were anchored a hundred metres offshore. A column of serjeants
snaked out to each one, making slow time through the water. The big
constructs were laden with backpacks, carrying their weapons above their
heads to stop them getting wet. Groups of Royal Marines milled about on
the bluff, watching the process. If all went well, theyd be doing the
same thing next morning.

<< Now theres good healthy optimism, >>Choma replied.

<< What do you mean? >>

<< Ive been working out our probable casualty rate. Would you like to
know how many of our squad are likely to survive the entire campaign? >>

<< Not particularly. I have no intention of becoming a statistic. >>

<< Where have I heard that before? In any case, its two. Two out of ten.
>>

<< Thank you very much. >>Sinon reached the landing boat. It was an ugly,
rugged affair, one design serving the entire Liberation armada. A
carbosilicon hull mass produced over on Esparta, with power cells and an
engine that could have come from any of a dozen industrialized star
systems allied to the Kingdom. Hard-pressed navy engineers had plugged
the standard components together, completing several hundred each day.
The three on the beach were still being worked on by technicians.

<< Honesty is supposed to be our cultures strength, >>Choma said, mildly
irked by the negative reaction.

<< Were a long way from Eden now. >>Sinon slung his rifle high on his
shoulder, and started climbing the ladder up the side of the boat. When
he reached the top of the gunnel he looked back to shore. The sun was
sinking into the sea, leaving a rosy haze line above the darkening water.
Parodying that, on the opposite horizon, the glow of the red cloud was
visible, a narrow fracture separating water and air.

Last chance, Sinon told himself. The other serjeants were all climbing
down into the boat, their mind-tones subdued but still resolute.
Rationally, he was buying the Confederation time to find a genuine
answer. And Consensus itself had approved this course of action. He swung
his legs over the rail, and put a hand down to help Choma. << Come on,
lets go storm the Dark Lords citadel. >>



The Royal Marine ion field flyer was a lone spark of gold shimmering high
in the night sky, brighter than any star. It flew across the top of the
Mortonridge peninsula, keeping parallel to the firebreak, twenty-five
kilometres to the north, and holding a steady fifteen kilometre altitude.

Ralph Hiltch sat in the flyers cabin as Cathal Fitzgerald piloted them
above the northern end of the mountain range which formed the peninsulas
spine. Eight hours of neural nanonics enforced sleep had left him feeling
fresh, but emotionally dead. His mind had woken immune to the human
consequences of the Liberation. Whether it was numb from the torrent of
information which had been bullying his brain for weeks, or guilty at the
enormity of what hed organized, he wasnt sure.

It meant that now he was hooked into the flyers sensor suite, he could
view the last stages of the deployment with god-like dispassion. Which
was probably for the best, he thought. Accepting personal responsibility
for every casualty would drive anyone insane within the first two
minutes. Even so, hed wanted this one last overview. To convince himself
it was genuine if nothing else. The last insecurity, that all the data
and images hed handled had been transformed to physical reality.

There could be doubt. The army spread out below him, his army, was
flowing over the black land in streamers of fluid light, bending and
curling round hills and valleys. Individual vehicles expressed as
twinkles of light, barely different to icons blipping their way across a
map. Except here there was no colour, just the white headlight beams
contrasting the funeral ground.

It was after midnight, and two-thirds of the ground deployment was
complete. Both flanks were established, now there was only the centre to
set up, the most difficult aspect. His main spearhead was going to drive
right along the M6, allowing the huge supply and back-up convoys an easy
ride. Using the motorway was a disturbingly obvious strategy, but
essential if they were to complete in a minimum timescale.

Ekelund would have sabotaged the road, but bridges could be repaired,
blockades shunted aside, and gorges filled. The combat engineering corps
were ready for that. At least the possessed didnt have air power. Though
occasionally he had images of propeller biplanes roaring overhead and
strafing the jeeps. Victory rolls with the pilots white silk scarf
flapping jauntily in the slipstream. Stupid.

Ralph switched the suites focus to the red cloud. Its edges were still
arched down to the ground, sealing the peninsula away from the rest of
the planet. Dusky random wave shadows rolled across the pulpy surface. He
thought they might be more restless than usual, though that could well be
his imagination. Thankfully, there was no sign of that peculiar oval
formation which hed seen once before. The one he absolutely refused to
call an eye. All he really wanted was one glimpse through; to reassure
himself the peninsula was still there, if nothing else. Theyd had no
data of any kind from inside since the day Ekelund had brought the cloud
down. No links with the net could be established; no non-possessed had
managed to sneak out. A final sweep with the flyers sensors revealed
nothing new.

Take us back, he told Cathal.

The flyer performed a fast turn, curving round to line up on Fort
Forward. Ahead of it, the giant Thunderbirds continued to swoop down out
of the western sky, delta heatshields glowing a dull vermilion against
the starfield backdrop. That aspect of the build up, at least, remained
unchanged. Cathal landed them inside the secure command complex, along
the southern side of the new city. Ralph trotted down the airstair,
ignoring the armed Marine escort which fell in around him. The trappings
of his position had ceased to register as special some time ago, just
another aspect of this extraordinary event.

Brigadier Palmer (the first person Ralph had promoted) was waiting
outside the door to the Ops Room. Well? she asked, as they walked in.

I didnt see anyone waving a white flag.

Wed know if they wanted to. Like a lot of people involved with the
Liberation, especially those whod been on Mortonridge since the start,
she considered herself to have a connection with the possessed hidden
behind the red cloud, an awareness of attitude. Ralph wasnt convinced,
although he acknowledged the possessed exerted some kind of psychic
presence.

The Ops Room was a long rectangular chamber with glass walls separating
it from innumerable specialist planning offices. Completing electronic
systems integration and connecting their architecture with Ombeys
military communication circuits was another triumph for the overworked
Royal Marine engineering corps, though its rushed nature was evident in
the bundled cables hanging between consoles and open ceiling panels, air
conditioning which was too chilly, and raw carbon-concrete corner
pillars. Its floor-space was taken up by cheap corporate-style desks
holding consoles, AV projectors, and communication gear. Right now, it
was full to capacity; over fifty officers from the Royal Navy were
collaborating with an equal number of Edenists; the next largest
contingent was the Confederation Navy with twenty; while the remainder
were drawn from various participating allies.

They were going to be the coordinators of the Liberation, the human
analysis and liaison between the ground forces and the controlling AI
back in Pasto. A failsafe against the maxim: No battle plan survives
contact with the enemy. Every one of them stood up as Ralph Hiltch
entered. That, he did notice. Together they had spent the past few weeks
planning this together, arguing, pleading, contributing ideas, working
miracles. Theyd learned to cooperate and coordinate their fields of
expertise, putting aside old quarrels so they melded into a unified,
dedicated team. He was proud of them and what theyd accomplished.

Their show of respect rekindled several of his suppressed emotions. Ill
keep this short, he told the hushed chamber. We cant pretend this is
going to solve the problem possession poses to the Confederation, but
its a damn sight more important than a propaganda war, which is what
some reporters have been calling it. Were fighting to free two million
people, and were battling to bring hope into the lives of an awful lot
more. To me, thats more than worthwhile, its essential. So lets make
our contribution a good one.

Amid scattered applause, he made his way to his office at the far end.
His desk gave him a view down the whole length of the Ops Room, providing
he craned his neck over the stack of processor block peripherals
connected to his main desktop console. While he was datavising the array
for strategic updates, his executive command group joined him. As well as
Janne Palmer who was the Chief of the occupying forces, there was Acacia,
the Edenist liaison, an elderly woman who had served as ambassador to
Ombey for five years. Hed also drafted in Diana Tiernan to act as the
armys technical advisor, helping to filter the scientific reports on the
possessed which were flooding in from across the Confederation. Cathal
completed the gathering, still holding his post as Ralphs assistant, but
now with the rank of lieutenant commander.

When the glass door slid shut, isolating them from the noise from
outside, Ralph requested a security level one sensenviron conference.
Princess Kirsten and Admiral Farquar joined them around the white bubble
rooms table. The deployments going remarkably well, Ralph said. All
our principal front line divisions will be in place at zero-hour.

My occupation troops are effectively ready, Janne said. There are a
few minor hitches, mostly logistical. But given the amount of materiel
involved, and the different groupings were attempting to coordinate, Im
happy. Were well within estimated parameters. The AI should have the
bugs knocked out by morning.

The serjeants are also ready, Acacia reported. Again, there are some
hitches, mainly with transport equipment, but we are committed.

Admiral Farquar? Kirsten asked.

All space based assets are functional. Platform orbits are synchronized,
and the voidhawks are reaching apogee. It looks good.

Very well, Kirsten said. God help me for this, but theyve left us
with no alternative. General Hiltch, you now have full command authority
for Ombeys military forces. Engage the enemy, Ralph, evict them from my
planet.



Standard military doctrine was, somewhat inevitably, fairly
unimaginative. Every kind of tactic and counter-tactic had been
attempted, practised, and refined by generals, warlords, and emperors
down the centuries until there was little room for mistake. So even
though Mortonridge was unique from a philosophical standpoint, it could
be defined in military terms as a large scale hostage/siege scenario.
Given that assessment, the method of resolving it was clear cut.

Ralph wanted to isolate the possessed in small groups. They were
vulnerable like that, capable of being overwhelmed. To achieve it, their
communications should be broken, denying them the ability to regroup and
mount any kind of counter-attack. Harassment should be constant, wearing
them down. And, if possible, he wanted them deprived of the cover
provided by their red cloud. In summary: divide and conquer. An ancient
principle, but now aided by the kind of firepower which only modern
technology could provide.



Ombey had four and a half thousand low orbit Strategic Defence platforms.
Their orbital vectors were orchestrated to provide a constant barrier
above the surface, similar to the way electrons pirouetted around their
nucleus. For the Liberation, all that had changed. Navy starships had
taken over the low orbit protection duty, leaving the platforms free for
an altogether different task. Their elaborate inclinations had been
shifted, ion thrusters firing for hours at a time to clump them into
flocks of twenty-five. Now they formed a single chain around the planet,
with an inclination tilted at just a couple of degrees to the equator.
One flock would pass over Mortonridge every thirty seconds.

Sensor satellites had been manoeuvred into the gaps between the
platforms, ready to provide the Liberation Forces with an unparalleled
coverage of the peninsula once the red cloud had been broken apart.
Admiral Farquar used them to watch the dawn terminator sliding over the
ocean towards the lowering band of red cloud. Tactical overlays showed
him the positions of the landing boats heading in for the beaches. Far
overhead, the flotilla of voidhawks had passed apogee, and were now
hurtling downwards, accelerating at eight gees.

In one hour, dawn would reach Mortonridges eastern seaboard. The Admiral
datavised his command authority code to Guyanas SD control centre.
Fire, he ordered.



Though they never knew it, the Liberation forces very nearly won in the
first ninety seconds. The initial flock of SD platforms sent seventy-five
electron beams slamming down through the upper atmosphere to strike the
red cloud. They were aimed along the north/south axis of the peninsula,
and defocused, so that at the point of impact they were over fifty metres
across. The intention wasnt to pierce the red cloud, just to pump it
full of electrical energy, the possesseds one known Achilles Heel. Each
beam began scanning from side to side, in gigantic ten second sweeps that
took them from coast to coast.

Then the second flock of platforms slid up over the horizon and into
range. Another seventy-five beams speared down. There was a ten second
overlap before the first flock was out of range.



Annette Ekelund let out a single shriek of agony, and dropped helplessly
to her knees. The pain was incredible. A shaft of blue-star sunlight
flung down from a height greater than heaven lanced clean through her
skull. It didnt just burn her stolen brain, it set fire to her very
thoughts. That part of her spirit which communed so gladly with the
others on Mortonridge was the treacherous conductor. The part which
created the shield of cloud and gave them all a subliminal sense of
community. Her belief in whatever humanity has survived the incarceration
of the beyond. And now it was killing her.

She abandoned it in its entirety. Her scream twisting from pain to
wretchedness. All around her, the other souls were shrinking away from
each other, withdrawing into self. The last sob burbled out from her
lips, and she flopped limply onto her back. Her body was freezing,
shaking in shock. Delvan and Soi Hon were scrabbling in the dirt
somewhere nearby, she could hear their whimpers. She couldnt see either
of them, the world had gone completely black.



Every possessed across the Confederation was instantly aware of the
strike. Pain and shock reverberated through the beyond. Wherever they
were, whatever they were doing, they felt it.

Al Capone was underneath Jezzibella when it happened, adopting a
complicated position so that her breasts were pushed into his face while
he could still bend his knees for the leverage to give her a damn good
shafting. Her laugh was halfway between a giggle and a moan when the
mental impact knocked him with the force of a wild hockey puck. He
convulsed, shouting in pained panic.

Jezzibella cried out as his frantic motion twisted her arm, nearly
dislocating her shoulder. Al! Fuck. That fucking hurts, you fucking
dickhead. I told you I dont do that sado shit, fuck you.

Al grunted in confused dismay, shaking his head to clear the weird
dizziness foaming inside. He was so disoriented, he fell off the side of
the bed.

For the first time, Jezzibella actually caught a glimpse of Brad
Lovegroves natural features beneath the illusion. Not too different to
Al, they could almost be brothers. Her anger faded at the sight of him
grimacing, limbs twitching in disarray. Al?

Fuck, he gasped. What the fuck was that?

Al, you okay, baby? What happened?

God damn! I dont know. He looked round the bedroom, expecting to see
some kind of bomb damage, G-men storming through the door. . . . I aint
got a clue.

For Jacqueline Couteur the invisible shockwave almost proved fatal.
Strapped onto the examination table in the demon trap she couldnt move
when her muscles spasmed. Her vital signs monitor alerted the staff to
some kind of seizure, at which point her conscious defence against the
electric current they were shunting through her body began to crumble.
Fortunately, one of the more alert team members shut the power off before
she was genuinely electrocuted. It took her five or six minutes to
recover her normal antagonism, and prowess.

On patrol a million kilometres above New California, Rocio Condra lost
control of the distortion field, letting it flare and contract wildly.
The big hellhawk tumbled crazily, its bird-form imploding in a cloud of
dark scintillations. Gravity inside the life-support cabin vanished along
with the quaint steamship interior. Jed, Beth, Gerald and the three kids
suddenly found themselves in freefall. Then gravity returned in a rush,
far too strong, and in the wrong direction, making one of the bulkhead
walls the floor. The surface swatted them hard, then the gravity failed
again to send them flying across the cabin in a tangle of limbs and
screams. Stars gyrated savagely beyond the viewport. Another wash of
gravity sucked them down onto the ceiling.

In Quinn Dexters case, it was his first setback on Earth. He had just
arrived at Grand Central Station to take a vac-train to Paris. Not the
original station building on Manhattan, the island itself was actually
abandoned and flooded, but New Yorkers were sentimental about such
things. This was the third such edifice to carry the name. Buried nearly
a kilometre below the centre of dome five, it formed the hub of the
arcologys intercontinental train network.

Once more he had secluded himself within the ghost realm to avoid any
risk of detection. That was when he began to notice just how many ghosts
haunted the station and other subterranean sections of the vast arcology.
Hundreds of them drifted mournfully amid the unseeing streams of
commuters. They were drab despondent figures, staring round at the faces
that rushed past. There was so much longing and desperation in their
expressions, as if every one of them was searching for some long lost
child. They were aware of Quinn, gazing at him in bewilderment as he
strode through the main concourse on his way to the platforms. In turn,
he ignored them, worthless creatures incapable of either aiding or
hindering his crusade. They really were as good as dead.

He was twenty metres short of the wave elevator for platform fifty-two
when the flashback from the Liberation reached him. The impact wasnt
actually too great, hed withstood far worse at Banneths hands, it was
the suddenness of it all which shocked him. Without warning he was
yelling as streaks of pain flared out from the centre of his brain to
infect his body. Edmund Rigbys captive thoughts writhed in agony,
transfixed by the blast of torment.

Quinn panicked, frightened by the unknown. Until this moment he believed
he was virtually omnipotent. Now some witchery was attacking him in a
method he couldnt fathom. Souls in the beyond were screaming in terror.
The ghosts around him began wailing, clasping their hands together in
prayer. His control over the energistic power faltered as his thoughts
dissolved into chaos.

Bud Johnson never saw where the guy came from. One second he was hurrying
to the wave elevator, on his way to catch a San Antonio connectionthe
next, some man in a weird black robe was kneeling on all fours on the
polished marble floor at his feet. That was almost impossible, everyone
who grew up on Earth and lived in the arcologies had an instinctive
awareness of crowds, the illogical tides and currents of bodies which
flowed through them. He always knew where people were in relation to
himself, alert to any possible collision. Nobody could just appear.

Buds momentum kept his torso going forwards, while his legs were
completely blocked. He went flying, pivoting over the mans back to crash
onto the cool marble. His wrist made a nasty snapping sound, firing hot
pain up his arm. And his neural nanonics did nothing. Nothing! There were
no axon blocks, no medical display. Bud let out a howl of pain, blinking
back tears as he looked up.

Those tears might have accounted for two or three of the curious faces
peering down at him. Pale and distressed, wearing extremely odd hats.
When he blinked the salty fluid clear, theyd gone. He clutched at his
injured wrist. Sheesh, dear God, that hurts. A murmur of surprise
rattled over his head, a strong contrast to the screams breaking out
across the rest of the station. No one seemed particularly concerned
about him.

Hey, my neural nanonics have failed. Someone call me a medic. I think my
wrists broken.

The man hed fallen over was now rising to his feet. Bud was acutely
conscious of the silence that had closed around him, of people backing
away. When he looked up, any thoughts of shouting curses on the clumsy
oaf vanished instantly. There was a face inside the large hood, barely
visible. Bud was suddenly very thankful for the robes shadows. The
expression of fury and malice projected by the features he could see was
quite bad enough. Sorry, he whispered.

Fingers closed around his heart. He could actually feel them, individual
joints hinging inwards, fingernails digging into his atriums. The hand
twisted savagely. Bud choked silently, his arms flapping wildly. He was
just aware of people closing in on him again. This time, they registered
concern. Too late, he tried to tell them, far too late. The aloof devil
turned casually and faded from his sight. Then so did the rest of the
world.

Quinn observed Buds soul snake away from his corpse, vanishing into the
beyond, adding his screams to the beseeching myriad. There was a big
commotion all around, people shoving and jostling to get a good view of
whatever was going down. Only a couple of them had gasped as he returned
himself to the ghost realm, fading out right in front of them. At least
hed retained enough composure not to use the white fire. Not that it
mattered now. Hed been seen, and not just by people with glitched neural
nanonics; the stations security sensors would have captured the event.

Govcentral knew he was here.



Tucked down in the central hold of the landing boat, Sinon couldnt
physically see the rest of the squadron closing on the shore. Affinity
made it unnecessary; all the Edenist minds on and orbiting Ombey were
linked together, providing him with more information than General Hiltch
had available. He was aware of his personal position, as well as that of
his comrades, even the Liberations overall situation was available to
him. The voidhawk flotilla revealed the red cloud beneath them. Huge
lightning bolts were writhing across the upper surface as the SD
platforms continued their electron barrage. At the centre, along the
spine of hills, the glow was fading, allowing pools of darkness to ripple
outward.

Along with all the other serjeants, Sinon craned forwards for a look. The
barrier of red cloud had grown steadily through the night as the boats
headed in for the beach. From ten kilometres offshore, it stretched right
across the water, solid and resolute like the wall at the end of the
world.

Small flickers of lightning arose to dance along the bottom, slashing
down into the waves. Steam plumes screwed upwards from the discharges.
Then the lightning streamers were coming together into massive dazzling
rivers, rising up, following the steep curve of the cloud to arch inland.
The red glow faded, taking less then five seconds to die completely. Its
disappearance startled Sinon and the other serjeants. The victory was too
sudden. This was not the epic struggle theyd been preparing for. The
crawling webs of lightning more than made up for the absence; blazing
bright right across the horizon.

<< You know, that is actually a very big cloud, >>Sinon said. The
brilliant flashes were near-continuous now, keeping the dark mass
illuminated prominently.

<< You noticed that, >>Choma retorted.

<< Yes. Which could be a problem. It was rather nicely contained while
the possessed were using it as a shield. As such, we tended to disregard
its physical properties; it was, after all, primarily a psychological
barrier. >>

<< Psychological or not, we cant cruise straight through with all that
electrical activity. >>

Choma wasnt the only one to reach that conclusion. They could already
feel the boat slowing as the captain reduced power to the engines. A
precaution repeated simultaneously by the entire armada.



Recommendations? Ralph asked.

Shut down the SD assault, Acacia said. The landing boats are already
slowing. They cant penetrate that kind of lightning storm.

Diana?

I think so. If the red light is an indication of the possesseds
control, then weve already routed them.

Thats a very big if, Admiral Farquar protested.

We dont have a lot of choice, the elderly technology advisor said.
The landing boats clearly cant get through, nor can the ground
vehicles, for that matter. We have to let the energy discharge itself
naturally. If the red light returns when theyre inside, we can resume
the electron beam attack until the cloud itself starts to break up.

Do it, Ralph ordered. Acacia, get the serjeants as close as they can
to the cloud, then as soon as the lightnings finished, I want them
through.

Yes, General.

Diana, how long is it going to take to dissipate that electricity?

A good question. Were not sure how deep or dense that cloud is.

Answer me.

Im afraid I cant. There are too many variables.

Oh great. Acacia, is the lightning going to affect the harpoons?

No. The clouds too low for that, and theyre going too fast. Even if
one took a direct hit from a lightning bolt, the trajectory wont be
altered by more than a couple of metres at best.



The voidhawk flotilla was only one and a half thousand kilometres from
the surface of Ombey. Mortonridge filled their sensor blister coverage,
changing from a red smear to a seething mass of blue-white streamers,
more alive than ever before. There was just time for one last query.

<< Were still go, >>Acacia assured them.

All three hundred voidhawks reached the apex of their trajectory. Their
bone-crushing eight-gee acceleration ended briefly. Each one flung a
swarm of five thousand kinetic harpoons from its weapons cradles. Then
power surged through their patterning cells again, reversing the previous
direction of the distortion field. The punishing intensity was unchanged,
still eight gees, pushing them desperately away from the planet with its
dangerous gravity field.

Far below, the delicate filigree of shimmering lightning vanished beneath
an incandescent corona as the upper atmosphere ignited. The plasma wake
left by one and a half million kinetic harpoons had merged together into
a single photonic shockwave. It hit the top of the cloud, puncturing the
churning grey vapour with such speed there was little reaction. At first.
Acacia was quite right, the cloud for all its bulk and animosity could
not deflect the harpoons from their programmed targets.

No human could draw up that list, it was the AI in Pasto that ultimately
designated their impact points. They descended in clumps of three, giving
a ninety-seven per cent probability of a successful hit. Mortonridges
communication net was the main target.

Urban legend dictated that modern communication nets were annihilation
proof. With hundreds of thousands of independent switching nodes spread
over an entire planet, and millions of cables linking them, backed up by
satellite relays, their anarchistic-homogeneous nature made them immune
to any kind of cataclysm. No matter how many nodes were taken out, there
was always an alternative route for the data. Youd have to physically
wipe out a planet before its data exchange was stalled.

But Mortonridge was finite, its net isolated from the redundancy offered
by the rest of the planet. The location of every node was known to within
half a metre. Unfortunately, ninety per cent of them were proscribed,
because they were inside a built up urban area. If kinetic harpoons
started dropping amid the buildings, resulting casualties would be
horrendous. That left the cables out in the open countryside. A lot of
them followed roads, nestled in utility conduits along the side of the
carbon concrete, but many more took off across the land, laid by
mechanoids tunnelling through forests and under rivers, with nothing on
the surface to indicate their existence.

Long-inactive files of their routes had been accessed and analysed by the
AI. Strike coordinates were designated, with the proscription that there
should be no habitable structure within three quarters of a kilometre.
Given the possesseds considerable ability to defend themselves on a
physical level, it was considered a reasonable safe distance.



Stephanie Ash lay quivering on the floor even after her mind had recoiled
from the communion with other souls. The loss hurt her more than any pain
from the electron beam attack against the cloud. That simple act of union
had given her hope. As long as people went on supporting each other, she
knew, despite everything else, they remained human to some small degree.
Now even that fragile aspiration had been wrenched from them.

Stephanie? Moyo called. His hand was shaking her shoulder gently.
Stephanie, are you all right?

The fear and concern in his voice triggered her own guilt. God, no. She
opened her eyes. The bedroom was lit solely by a small bluish flame
coming from his thumb. Outside the window, blackness swarmed the whole
world. What did they do? She could no longer sense the psychic weight
pressing against her from the other side of the firebreak. Only the
valley was apparent.

I dont know. But its not good. He helped her to her feet.

Are the others all right? She could sense their minds, spread out
through the farmhouse, embers of worry and pain.

Same as us, I guess. A bright flash from outside silenced him. They
both went to the window and peered out. Huge shafts of lightning skidded
along the underbelly of the cloud.

Stephanie shivered uncomfortably. What had successfully shielded them
from the open sky was now an intimidatingly large mass far too close
overhead.

Were not in charge of it anymore, Moyo said. We let go.

Whats going to happen to it?

Itll rain, I guess. He shot her an anxious look. And thats a lot of
cloud up there. We just kept adding to it, like a babys security
blanket.

Maybe we should get the animals in.

Maybe we should get the hell out of here. The Princesss army will be
coming.

She smiled sadly. Theres nowhere to go. You know that.

The frequency of the lightning had increased dramatically by the time
they rounded up Cochrane, Rana, and Franklin to help chase after the
chickens and lambs that normally ambled round inside the farmyard. The
first few big drops of water began to patter down.

Moyo stuck his hand out, palm up. As if confirmation was really needed.
Told you, he said smugly.

Stephanie turned her cardigan into a slicker, even though she didnt hold
out much hope of staying dry. The drops were larger than any shed ever
known. All the chickens were running through the open gate, the lambs had
already vanished into the atrocious night. She was just about to suggest
they didnt bother trying to catch them when daylight returned to
Mortonridge.

Cochrane gaped up at the sky. The clouds had turned into translucent
veils of grey silk, allowing the light to pour through. Wow! Who
switched the sun back on, man? The bottom of the clouds detonated into
incandescent splinters, searing down through the air. Vivid star-tips
pulling down a hurricane cone of violet mist after them. Stephanie had to
shield her eyes, they were so bright.

Its the end of the world, kids, Cochrane cried gleefully.

All one and a half million harpoons struck the ground within a five
second period. A clump of them were targeted on a cable four kilometres
from the farm valley, their terrible velocity translated into a single
devastating blast of heat. The radiant orange flash silhouetted the
valley rim, lasting just long enough to reveal the debris plume boiling
upwards.

Ho shit, Cochrane grunted. That Mr Hiltch really doesnt like us.

What were they? Stephanie asked. It seemed incredible that they were
still in their bodies. Surely that kind of violence would wipe them out?

Some kind of orbital bombardment, Moyo said. It must have been aimed
at Ekelunds troops. He didnt sound too convinced.

Aimed? It was everywhere.

Then why didnt it hit us? Rana asked. Moyo just shrugged. That was
when the roar of the impact reached them, a drawn out rumble loud enough
to swallow any words.

Stephanie covered her ears, and looked up again. The cloud was in
torment, its rumpled underbelly foaming violently. Ghostly billows of
luminescent purple air left behind by the harpoons snaked around the
tightly packed whorls; the two of them flowing against each other, yet
never merging, like liquids with different densities. She frowned,
blinking upwards as the light dimmed. A thick slate-grey haze was
emerging, oozing out of the cloud to swallow both the lightning and the
tattered sheets of ion vapour. It was expanding fast, darkening.

Inside, she said in a small voice as the last echoes of the explosion
reverberated across the valley. They all turned to look at her. The big
drops of rain had returned. A breeze arose to stroke their clothes. Get
inside. Its going to rain.

They glanced up at the descending haze, awed and fearful as understanding
reached them.



Nothing! Annette screamed furiously at the processor block. The
primitive schematic displayed on its screen proved it was functioning,
yet nobody was answering her calls. Were cut off.

Soi Hon studied the display on his block. All the lines are down, from
what I can see, he said.

Dont be absurd, you cant knock out an entire net, Annette protested.
Doubt stung. Its not possible.

I imagine that was the idea behind the bombardment, Soi Hon replied,
unperturbed. It was rather spectacular, after all. They wouldnt expend
that much effort for no reason. And we didnt have the whole net
functioning in the first place, only the critical links.

Damn it, how the hell am I going to organize our resistance now?

Everyone has their original orders, and they have no choice but to
fight. All this means is that you are no longer in charge of the
possessed.

Even his complacency soured at the look she gave him.

Oh really? she asked dangerously.

The light began to fade outside. Annette strode across to the big front
window. Shed taken over a folksy restaurant called the Black Bull in the
middle of Cold Overton, giving her a commanding position at the end of
the broad main street. Fifty vehicles were parked on the stone slabs of
the market square outside, waiting for the troops whod taken refuge in
the nearby shops and cafs. Milne and a few of his engineers were walking
about, inspecting the equipment. There didnt seem to be any damage,
though several of the harpoons had fallen just outside the village.

Soi, she said. Take a couple of squads and check the roads. I want to
know how quickly we can get out of here.

As you wish. He nodded briskly, and made for the door.

Theres a big group of us in Ketton, she said, almost to herself.
Thats only ten kilometres west of here. Well link up with them. Should
be able to convince some civilians to join up, too. After that we can
move on to the next group.

We could use runners to carry messages, Delvan suggested. Thats what
we did back in my time. Communications were always pretty damn poor close
to the front.

There was very little light left now. Annette saw Milne and the others
running. There was no fear in their minds, just urgency. Raindrops
splattered against the window. Within seconds the whole of Main Street
was awash. Gutters started to fill up, with small whirlpools forming over
the drains.

Ive never seen anything like that before, Soi Hon exclaimed, raising
his voice against the noise. He was standing in the open doorway, a
waterproof poncho forming round his shoulders. The drumming sound of the
huge drops was easily as loud as the red clouds thunder had been. And
we saw some storms round the Pacific in my day, believe me.

A rivulet of dirty water began to seep in around his feet, trickling
round the tables. Annette couldnt see anything outside now, the rain was
battering heavily against the glass, producing the kind of spume that
normally topped ocean waves. Behind that, there was only blackness.

Delvan moved up beside him to get a better look. Nobodys going anywhere
in this.

Yes, Annette agreed shakily. Youd better wait.

How long, though? Delvan muttered. We didnt think about this when we
drew the cloud over us.

Dont worry, Soi Hon said. Nobodys going to do any fighting for a
while. Its just as bad for them. And at least were inside.



The landing boat surged forwards as soon as the dazzling corona from the
kinetic harpoons lit up the sky. Sinon used the voidhawks vantage point
to observe the giant splash of plasma sink into the dark mantle of cloud.

<< Its expanding, >>Acacia announced. << Confirm that, were tracking
it. >>

Vast cyclonic spirals of cloud were stirring across the upper surface.
Washed by Ombeys pale moonlight, the movement appeared almost majestic.
Primeval forces had awoken. Along the edges of the cloud, gargantuan
tornadoes began to spin away, careering off over the sea.

<< The whole damn things breaking up, >>Choma said.

Sinon shared a shiver of consternation with the other serjeants; not just
in his boat. All of them were facing the same onslaught. He stared out
over the prow, watching mountains of water on the move. A wind had risen
from nowhere to blow straight at him.

<< We cant turn back, >>Choma said. << Itll catch us on the open water.
Best head for shore. >>

Sinons hand patted his lifebelt, seeking reassurance. The massif of
cloud seemed to be hurtling towards them, a light-absorbing void
distending across the ocean.

<< Keep going, >>was the decision concurred by the rest of the Edenists
and General Hiltchs command group. Every boat in the Liberation armada
rammed its engines to full, and met the stormfront head on.

It wasnt rain they faced, not in the ordinary sense. The deluge crashing
down over them was like standing under a waterfall. As the clouds
rampaged overhead, so the waves rose, as if seeking to bridge the gap.
The landing boats were thrown around pitilessly. Sometimes Sinon had to
hold himself against a deck that was lifting over thirty degrees to the
vertical. The jeeps secured along the centre of the hold strained against
their restraint cables as their weight was flung about in directions the
designers had never anticipated. Bilge pumps were wailing plaintively, to
little effect. Sinon clung to a guard rail as the cold water mounted
steadily against his legs, sloshing between the hull walls. He was
worried hed get tossed overboard. He was worried his newly assembled
body would split along surgical lines as he strained muscles and tendons
to hold on. He worried that a jeep would break free and crush him. He
worried they wouldnt reach the beach before the rain and waves filled
the hold and sunk them.

Not even sharing the anxiety in the Edenist fashion did much to alleviate
it. There was way too much distress bubbling through the aether as the
armada battled for shore. The Edenists in secondary support roles, safe
away from the megastorm, along with the voidhawks and their crews
overhead, did their best to offer what reassurance and comfort they could
to their beleaguered kinsmen. But they all felt the death toll rising,
compounding the alarm. Landing boats collapsed, pitched over, individual
serjeants lost their grip to drown amid the monster waves. Voidhawks
laboured tirelessly to absorb the fresh memories of the dying serjeant
personalities.



A nausea suppression program went primary as an aghast Ralph watched the
nightmare unfurling. Neatly tabulated icons blinked up inside his mind,
indicating the woeful progress the boats were making. Some were even
being driven backwards as the gales howled out from the land. He did what
he could. For all it was worth. Ordering the ground forces along the
firebreak to stay put and dig in. Putting the medical teams on immediate
standby. Designating search patrols for the aircraft, ready for the time
when it became feasible to fly.

Diana Tiernan and the AI couldnt give him any estimate when that would
be. There was no way of knowing the true weight of water powering the
storm. Radar scans from the SD sensor satellites to discover the depth
and density were badly distorted by the tremendous electrical discharges
still churning madly over Mortonridge. All they could do was wait.

We couldnt have known, Janne Palmer said. Dealing with the possessed
is one giant unknown.

We should have guessed, Ralph answered bitterly. At least considered
it.

Best information we had was that the cloud was a couple of hundred
metres thick, Diana said. Thats all it was on Lalonde and every other
planet they took over. But this blasted thing, it must be kilometres
deep. They must have sucked every gram of water from the air. There may
even be some kind of osmotic process involved, siphoning it up out of the
sea.

Damn those bastards, Ralph spat.

They are afraid, Acacia said calmly. They built the thickest, highest
wall they could to keep us out. Its human nature.

Ralph couldnt bring himself to answer the Edenist. It was Acacias
people who were taking the brunt of the calamity. And it was his plan,
his orders, which had put them there. Anything he said would be
pathetically inadequate.

Outside, the rain had reached Fort Forward, and was doing its best to
wash the citys programmable silicon structures into the nearby river.
Fast rivulets were gouging the soil away from their base anchors. Ops
Room staff glanced round nervously as banshee winds pummelled away at the
walls. Fifty minutes after the kinetic harpoon barrage, the landing boats
started to reach the beaches.

Theyre coming through, Acacia said. The first strands of confidence
were starting to emerge within the combined Edenist psyche as serjeants
exported the feeling of sand crunching underfoot. Proof that success was
possible, the sense of relief which accompanied it. Its going to be
okay, were going to make it.

Right, Ralph croaked. One icon gleamed darkly at the centre of his
woeful thoughts: 3129. The number of dead so far. And were the only ones
shooting.



An immense wave smacked the landing craft down on the beach with an
almighty crunch. The blow sent Sinon skidding back along the hold on his
arse, limbs flailing. Water slowed his momentum quickly. He came to rest
in a jumble of other serjeants, all struggling to disentangle themselves.
The three at the bottom were completely immersed. Affinity was supremely
useful in coordinating their movements, like unpicking a three
dimensional puzzle.

Theyd just got free when the next wave clobbered the side of the landing
boat. It lacked the brutality of the previous one, simply shoving the
hull further up the beach, and twisting them at an angle.

<< Dry land! >>Choma cried triumphantly.

<< Well . . . land, anyway, >>Sinon acknowledged dutifully as he sloshed
forwards back up the hold. The rain here was even worse than out at sea.
Visibility was down to maybe fifteen metres, and that was with the boats
powerful lights shining down.

<< Sometimes, I think you have completely the wrong attitude for this. >>

Sinon sent a smile image at his friend. He carried on searching through
the water for pieces of his kit lost during the last portion of the
voyage.

The squad began to assess their position. Five had been injured seriously
enough to disqualify them from the campaign altogether. Several more had
suffered minor cracking in their exoskeletons, which the medical nanonics
could cope with. (Surprisingly, the medical nanonics were working
reasonably well.) The beach theyd wound up on was three kilometres south
of their designated landing point, Billesdon. The truck at the back of
the hold was so badly flooded itd require a complete maintenance
overhaul. The landing boat was wedged into the shingle, and would need
towing off at high tide before it could return to the resort island for
the marines.

On the plus side, the forward ramp worked, allowing the three functional
jeeps out. Most of their armament was intact. All the other landing boats
containing their regiment had made it ashore, though they were spread out
along the coast. After a brief discussion with their Ops Room liaison,
they agreed to make their way to Billesdon and regroup there. According
to their original plan, the back-up forces and supplies would use the
towns harbour as their disembarkation point. But it still had to be
secured.

By the time the boats forward ramp came down it was technically dawn.
Hunched down in the almost nonexistent shelter provided by the starboard
hull, Sinon couldnt notice any difference. The only way he knew the
jeeps were lumbering out was by using his affinity to see out through the
drivers eyes.

<< Looks like were on, >>Choma said.

They rose to their feet, and checked their kit one last time. Sinons
squad took up position by the second jeep. Intense headlight beams
pierced ten metres through the deluge before the grey water defeated
them. It was slow going. Their feet sank deep into the saturated shingle.
Twice they had to push the jeep when its wide tyres dug themselves into
axle-high ruts.

The squad was totally dependent on their guidance blocks. Satellite
images taken before the possession provided them with a high-resolution
picture of the cove, and the single narrow track leading away from it
into the forest at the rear. Inertial guidance designated their position
to within ten centimetres. Supposedly. There was no way of checking.
Satellite sensors still couldnt penetrate the cloud to give them a
verified location reference. They just had to hope the bitek processors
hadnt been glitched since they loaded them back on the island.

Shingle gave way to tacky mud. Laggard waves of the yellow slough were
creeping down the beach from the land behind. Clumps of grass and small
bushes were being trawled along with it.

<< Great, >>Sinon said as he waded in. << At this rate, its going to
take a week to get there. >>He was aware of other squads encountering
similar difficulties all along the coast.

<< We need to get to higher ground, >>Choma said. His affinity indicated
a point on the guidance block image. << That should give us better
terrain to traverse. >>

The squad concurred, and changed direction slightly.

<< Any news on when this rains going to end? >>Sinon queried their
liaison.

<< No. >>



Not even Cochrane could be bothered to maintain the Karmic Crusaders
outlandish appearance. The rain was eroding their spirits at the same
rate it ate into the valleys soil. Three hours so far, without ever
slackening.

Flares of lightning revealed what it was doing to their beautiful
circular valley. Water cascaded over the lip, turning the orderly
terraces into long curving waterfalls. At each stage it grew muckier and
more glutinous as it carried the rich cultivated black soil with it.
Avalanches of crops and sturdy young fruit trees were plunging down the
ever-steepening slopes to sink without trace into the expanding lake. The
lawn at the rear of the farmhouse was slowly submerged, bringing the
water up to the ornate iron-framed patio doors.

By that time they were already loading the Karmic Crusader with their
cases. Wind had ripped countless slates from the roof, letting the rain
in to soak through the ceiling plaster.

Just bear in mind, theres only one road out of this valley, McPhee
said when the first rivulet came churning down the stairs into the living
room. And that runs above the river. If were going to get out of here,
its got to be soon.

Nobody had argued. They splashed their way upstairs to pack while he and
Cochrane brought the bus out of the barn. Moyo was driving, keeping their
speed to little more than walking pace. The dirt track along the side of
the winding valley was crumbling at an alarming rate as sheets of filthy
water poured down out of the trees above them, foaming round trunks and
raking out the tangled undergrowth. His mind concentrated on giving the
bus broader tyres in an attempt to gain some kind of traction on the
quagmire surface. It was difficult; he had to get Franklin and McPhee to
collaborate with him, meshing their thoughts together.

A tree crashed onto the track twenty metres ahead of them, uprooted by
the relentless water. Moyo stamped down on the brakes, but the bus just
kept slithering forwards. Not even the full focus of his energistic
ability could affect the motion. An untimely reminder about his acute
lack of omnipotence. He just managed to shout: Hold on to something,
before the buss front collision buffer hit the trunk. The windscreen
turned white, bulging inwards to absorb as much of the impact as it could
before finally disintegrating into a hail of tiny plastic spheres. A fat
bulb of twigs and spiky topaz leaves burst through the rent. Moyo tried
to duck, but the seat straps held him fast. Instinct took over, and a
stupendous ball of white fire engulfed the twigs. He screeched as his
eyebrows smouldered and his hair shrivelled into black frazzled ash. The
skin on his face went dead.

Steam belched along the interior as the Karmic Crusader juddered to a
halt. Stephanie loosened her grip on the seat back in front of her,
leaving deep indentations in the composite. The floor was tilted at quite
an incline. What with the rain drumming on the roof, and the water from
the slope pouring round them she could only just distinguish the stressed
creaking coming from the bodywork. There was no way of telling what was
causing it. Even her eldritch sense was cluttered with confusing
shadowforms, the rain was equivalent to strong static interference.

Then water came gurgling eagerly along the aisle, pushing a fringe of
filthy scum ahead of it. It glided over her shoes. She made an effort to
banish the cloying steam, trying to make out the gloomy interior.

My eyes! It was just a whisper, but poignant enough to carry the length
of the aisle. Everyone swung round towards the front of the bus.

Oh god, my eyes. My eyes. Help me! My eyes!

Stephanie had to hang on to the overhead racks, swinging one hand in
front of the other, to make her way forwards. Moyo was still sitting in
the drivers seat, his body rigid. The incinerated remains of the trees
branch cluster loomed centimetres from his face like some fabulously
delicate charcoal sculpture. His hands were held close to his cheeks,
trembling from the fear of what hed find if he actually touched himself.

Its all right, she said automatically. Her mind played traitor, fright
and revulsion at what she saw surging to the surface of her thoughts. His
skin had roasted away, taking most of his nose and all of his eyelids
with it. Blood was dribbling out of the fissures between scabs of crisped
corium layers. Both eyes had broiled, turning septic yellow as creamy
fluids percolated out in a mockery of tears.

I cant see, he cried. Why cant I see?

She reached out and grasped both his hands. Shush. Please, darling.
Itll be all right. You just got scorched by the flame, thats all.

I cant see!

Of course you can. Youve got your sixth sense until your eyes recover.
You know Im here, dont you?

Yes. Dont go.

She put her arms round him. I wont. He began shaking violently. Cold
sweat was prickling his undamaged skin.

Hes in shock, Tina said. The others were gathering round, as much as
the cramped aisle would permit. Their thoughts tempered by the sight of
Moyos injuries.

Hes all right, Stephanie insisted in a brittle tone.

Its very common with major burn cases.

Stephanie glared at her.

Yo, man, give him a drag on this, Cochrane said. He held out a fat
reefer, sickly sweet smoke seeping from its glowing tip.

Not now! Stephanie hissed.

Actually, yes, darling, Tina said. For once the ape mans right. Its
a mild sedative, which is just what he needs right now. Stephanie
frowned suspiciously at the unaccustomed authority in Tinas voice. I
used to be a nurse, the statuesque woman continued, gathering in her
black diamante shawl with a contemptuous dignity. Actually.

Stephanie took the reefer, and eased it gently into Moyos lips. He
coughed weakly as he inhaled.

The bus groaned loudly. Its rear end shifted a couple of metres, sending
them all grabbing for support. McPhee ducked his head to peer through the
broken windscreen. Were not going anywhere in this, he said. Wed
better get out before we get washed away.

We cant move him, Stephanie protested. Not for a while.

The rivers nearly up level with this track, and weve got at least
another kilometre and a half to go before were out of the valley.

Level? It cant be. We were twenty metres above the valley floor.

The Karmic Crusaders headlights were out, so she sent a slender blade of
white fire arching over the track. It was as if the land had turned to
water. She couldnt actually see any ground, slopes and hollows were all
submerged under several centimetres of flowing yellow-brown water. Just
below the flattish section which marked the track, a cavalcade of flotsam
was sweeping along the valley. Mangled branches, smashed trunks, and
snarled up mats of vegetation were all cluttered together; their smooth
progress was ominous, nothing stood in their way. As she watched, another
of the trees from the slope above slid down past the bus, staying
vertical the whole time until it reached the river.

She didnt like to think how many more trees were poised just above them.
Youre right, she said. Lets get out of here.

Cochrane retrieved his reefer. Feel better? Moyo simply twitched. Hey,
no need for the downer. Just like grow them back, man. Its easy.

Moyos answering laugh was hysterical. Imagine I can see? Oh yes, oh
yes. Its easy, its so fucking easy. He started to sob, tapping his
fingertips delicately over his ruined face. Im sorry. Im so sorry.

You stopped the bus, Stephanie said. You saved all of us. Theres
nothing to be sorry for.

Not you! he screamed. Him! Im saying sorry to him. Its his body, not
mine. Look what Ive done to it. Not you. Oh god. Why did all this
happen? Why couldnt we all just die?

Get me the first-aid kit, Tina told Rana. Now!

Stephanie had her arm round Moyos shoulder again, wishing there was some
aspect of energistic power that could manifest raw comfort. McPhee and
Franklin tried opening the door. But it was jammed solid, beyond even
their enhanced physical strengths ability to shift. They looked at each
other, gripped hands, and closed their eyes. A big circular section of
the front bodywork spun off into the bedlam outside. Rain spat down the
aisle like a damp shotgun blast. Rana struggled forwards with the
first-aid kit case, fiddling with the clips.

This is no use, Tina wailed. She plucked out a nanonic package, face
wrinkled in dismay. The thick green strip dangled from her hand like so
much wobbly rubber.

Come on! There must be something in it you can use, Stephanie said.

Tina rummaged through. The case contained several strips of nanonic
package, diagnostic blocksall useless. Even the phials of biochemicals
and drugs used infuser patches, the dosage regulated by a diagnostic
block. There was no non-technological method of getting the medication
into his bloodstream. She shook her head weakly. Nothing.

Damn it

The bus groaned, shifting again. No more time, McPhee said. This is
it. Out. Now.

Cochrane clambered out of the hole, splashing down on the track next to
the fallen tree. Keeping his footing was obviously difficult. The water
came halfway up his shin. Rana followed him down. Stephanie gripped the
seat straps holding Moyo in, and forced them to rot in her palms. She and
Franklin hauled him up, and guided him through the hole. Tina followed
them through, letting out martyred squeals as she struggled to find
footholds.

Lose those bloody heels, ye moron, McPhee yelled at her.

She glared back at him petulantly, but her scarlet stilettos faded into
ordinary pumps with flat soles. Peasant. A girl has to look her best at
all times, you know.

This is real you stupid cow, not a fucking disaster movie set. Youre
no being filmed.

She ignored him, and turned to help Stephanie with Moyo. Lets try and
bandage his face, at the very least, she said. Ill need some cloth.

Stephanie tore a strip off the bottom of her saturated cardigan. When she
passed it over to Tina it had become a dry, clean strip of white linen.

I suppose thatll be all right, Tina said dubiously. She started to
wrap it round Moyos eyes, making sure the stub remains of his nose were
also covered. Do try and think of your face as being normal, darling.
Itll all grow back, then, youll see.

Stephanie said nothing, she didnt doubt Moyo could repair the burns to
his cheeks and forehead, but actually growing eyeballs back . . .

Franklin landed with a heavy splash, the last out of the bus. Nobody
fancied trying to salvage their luggage. The boot was at the rear, and
not even energistic power would help much clambering over the tree.
Blasting the trunk to shreds would only send the bus spinning over the
edge.

They spent a couple of minutes sorting themselves out. First priority was
fending off the rain; their collective imagination produced a transparent
hemisphere, like a giant glass umbrella floating in the air above them.
Once that was established, they set about drying off their clothes. There
wasnt anything they could do about the water coursing across the track,
so they gave themselves sturdy knee-high wellingtons.

Thus protected, they set off down the track, taking turns to guide and
support a shivering Moyo. A bright globe of ball lightning bobbed through
the air ahead and slightly to the side of them, hissing as raindrops
lashed against it, but lighting the way and hopefully giving them some
warning of any more falling trees. Apart from that, their only worry was
making it out of the valley before the river rose up over the track. The
driving rain and roaring wind meant they never knew when another tree
slithered down the slope into the dark and battered Karmic Crusader,
sending it plunging into the engorged river.



Billesdon was a cheery little town, tucked into the lee of a large
granite headland on Mortonridges eastern coast. Sheltered from the worst
of the breakers to come rolling in off the ocean, it was a natural
harbour. District planners took advantage of that, quarrying the abundant
rock to build a long curving quay opposite the headland, enclosing a wide
deepwater basin with a modest beach at the back. The majority of boats
which used it were trawlers and sandrakers, their operators earning a
good living from Ombeys plentiful fish and crustacean species. Even the
local seaweed was exported to restaurants across the peninsula.

It also proved a haven for pleasure boats, with several sport fishing and
yachting clubs setting up shop. With so many boats to service, the marine
engineering companies and supply industries were quick to seize upon the
commercial opportunities available and open premises in the town. Houses,
apartment blocks, shops, hotels, entertainment halls, and industrial
estates were thrown up all the way back along the shallow valley behind
the headland. Villas and groves began to blossom along the slopes above,
next to golf courses and holiday complexes.

Billesdon became the sort of town, beautiful and economically successful,
that was presented as the Kingdoms ideal, every citizens entitlement.
Sinons squad reached the outskirts around midday. A trivial glimmer of
light was penetrating the clouds, giving the world a lacklustre opacity.
Visibility had risen to a few hundred yards.

Sinon wished it hadnt bothered. They were poised just outside the town,
not far above the sea. Cover was ostensibly provided by a spinney of
fallen Fellots. None of the sturdy aboriginal trees remained standing;
their dense fan-shaped branches had cushioned the way the trunks fell,
leaving them at crazy angles. Rain kept their upper sections clean from
the cloying mud, giving the cerise bark a glossy sheen. Choma was pressed
up against a fat trunk at the edge of the spinney, waving a sensor block
slowly ahead of him. The whole squad hooked in to the blocks bitek
processor, examining the buildings ahead through a variety of wavelengths.

Not even the money lavished on Billesdons infrastructure had saved it
from the rain. The terraces and groves above had dissolved, sending waves
of mud slithering down into the prim streets, clogging the drains within
minutes. Water raced along the roads and pavements, submerging tarmac and
grass alike before it poured over the quayside wall. There were no boats
left in the harbour; every single craft had been used to evacuate the
population before Ekelunds invasion reached the coast. In theory, that
left the basin clear for the Liberations landing boats to bring the
occupation troops and support materiel ashore.

<< Seems deserted, >>Choma said.

<< Nothing moving, >>Sinon agreed, << but infrareds useless in all this
rain. There could be thousands of them tucked up nice and dry waiting for
us. >>

<< Look on the bright side, the water should foul up that white fire of
theirs. >>

<< Maybe, but that still leaves them with a whole load of options to use
against us. >>

<< Thats good, keep thinking like that. Paranoia keeps you on your toes.
>>

<< Thank you. >>

<< So what do you want to do now? >>

<< Simple. Were going to have to go in and check it out one house at a
time. >>

<< Okay, thats what I signed up for. >>

They discussed it with the other squads encircling the town. Search areas
were designated, tactics coordinated, blockades established on the main
roads. Guyana was alerted that they were going in, and readied the low
orbit SD platforms to provide groundstrike support if called for.

The outskirts ahead of Sinon were modest houses overlooking the harbour,
home to the fishing families. They had large gardens, which had been
completely washed away. Long tongues of mud-slimed debris were stretched
down the slope, with small streams running down their centres where the
water had gouged a channel into the sandy soil. Cover between the spinney
and the first house was nonexistent, so the squad moved forwards with
long gaps between each member. If the white fire did burst down on them,
it would never be able to reach more than one at a time. Hopefully.

Sinon was third in the line. He held his machine gun ready, crouched low
to provide the smallest possible target. Ever since they came ashore,
hed been thankful that his serjeant body had an exoskeleton; the rain
didnt bother him as much as it would if he had ordinary skin. Body
armour had been considered and rejected, it had never been any good
against the white fire before. The one concession they all made were
shoes, a kind of sandal with deep-tread soles to give them traction.

Even so, it was hard to keep his feet from slipping as he hurried forward
through the mud. The first house was ten metres ahead of him: a white box
with long silvered windows and a large first floor balcony at the rear.
Water poured out of the sagging guttering, diluting the slow-moving
sludge that percolated round the base of the walls. He kept sweeping the
machine gun nozzle across the facing wall, alert for any sign of motion
from inside. Out in the open, wind was driving the rain straight at him.
Even his body was aware of how cold it was; not that it was affecting his
performance, not yet. Sensor blocks dangled from his belt, unused and
redundant as he urged himself on. His training was his one and only
defence now.

Choma had already reached the house ahead of him, ducking down to crawl
under the windows. Sinon reached the back wall, and started to follow his
friend along the side of the house. It was important to keep moving, not
clump together. Palm fronds and limp knots of grass wrapped themselves
round his ankles, slowing him. When he reached the largest window, he
took one of the sensor blocks from his belt, and gingerly pressed it to
the pane. The block relayed a slightly misty image of the room inside. A
lounge, cosy, with worn furniture and framed family holograms on the
wall. Water was spraying out of the ceilings central light fitting; the
floor was invisible under a layer of mud which had pushed in from the
hallway. An infrared scan showed no hot-spots.

<< Clean downstairs, >>he said. << And my ELINT block is clear. Looks
like nobodys home. >>

<< We need to be sure, >>Choma replied. << Check out the upper floor.
Ill back you. >>

Sinon stood up, shouldering the machine gun. He took out a fission blade
and sliced through the window frame, cutting out the lock. Raindrops
sizzled on the glowing blade. The next two serjeants in his squad had
already reached the house when he slipped inside. He pushed out a heavy
breath from his lungs, the nearest he could get to a sigh. Actually out
of the rain. Its impact was diminished to a dull drum roll on the roof.
Choma splashed down into the thin mire beside him.

<< Hell, thats better. >>

Affinity made Sinon aware of the rest of the squad; two of them were in
the neighbouring houses, while the rest had started to spread out along
the street. << My ELINTs still clear, >>he said.

Choma looked up at the ceiling, pointing his machine gun at it
cautiously. << Yes. Im pretty sure theres nobody up there, but weve
still got to check. >>

Sinon made his way out into the hall, machine gun held ready. << How can
you be sure? You dont know whats up there. >>

<< Instinct. >>

<< Crazy. >>He put his foot on the first step, sandal sole making a
squelching sound against the sodden carpet. << Weve barely got
imagination operating inside these neural arrays, let alone an intuitive
function. >>

<< Then I suggest you work one up fast, youre going to need it. >>

Sinon turned so he could cover the landing as he ascended. Nothing moved
except for the unending water, glistening as it ran down walls, curdling
across carpets and tile floors, dripping from furniture. He reached the
main bedroom, its door ajar. His foot kicked it hard, dinting the wood.
The door slammed back amid a shower of droplets. Choma was right: it was
empty. In every room, the signs of panicked departure. Drawers ransacked,
clothes scattered about.

<< Nobody here, >>Sinon reported to the squad when they cleared the front
bedroom. Other house searches across the town were also proving negative
as the squads moved in.

<< Ghost town, >>Choma said, chortling.

<< I think you could find a better phrase. >>He looked down through the
window, seeing squad members scuttling along the road outside. They were
going against the flow of mud, their legs churning up deep eddies. Things
were trundling along the street, carried along by the relentless current.
Bulges in the smooth mud; there was no way of telling if they were stones
or crumpled twigs. All of them moved at the same speed.

He held up a sensor block, panning it round in search of anomalous
hot-spots. The image was overlapping his actual field of view, which
meant he was looking straight at the house on the other side of the
street when it exploded.

A serjeant had cut through the lock on a side door and crept cautiously
inside, machine gun held ready. The ground floor must have been clear,
because a second serjeant followed him in. Thirty seconds later four
explosions detonated simultaneously. They were carefully placed, one at
each corner of the house. Long flakes of concrete and lumps of stone shot
out of the billowing flame. The whole house trembled: then, its crucial
support destroyed, it collapsed vertically. Windows all along the street
blew out under the impact of the blast wave. Sinon just managed to twist
away in time, allowing his backpack to take the brunt of the flying
shards.

The affinity bond boiled with hard, frantic thoughts. Both serjeants in
the house were hammered by the explosions, their bodies wrecked. But the
tough exoskeleton withstood the searing pressure for a few moments, long
enough for the controlling personalities to instinctively begin the
transfer. One of the orbiting voidhawks accepted their thoughts; then the
house descended on their already weakened skulls.

Shit! Sinon yelled. He was curled up on the bedroom floor, aware of
something being wrong with his left forearm. When he brought it up to his
face, the exoskeleton was cracked in a small star pattern. Blood was
seeping out of the centre. Rain lashed in through the empty window,
washing the crimson stain away.

<< Are you all right? >>Choma asked.

<< Yes . . . Yes, I think so. What happened? >>He stood up, peering down
circumspectly onto the street. The mud and rain had swallowed almost all
the immediate signs of the explosion. There was no smoke, no dust cloud.
Just a pancake of rubble where the house had stood moments before. The
tide of mud was already frothing round it, bubbling eagerly into cracks.

Choma pointed his machine gun along the street, radiating satisfaction
that the squad had merged with the scenery. He knew where they were, but
they werent easily visible. << Where are they? Did anyone see where the
white fire came from? >>

He was answered with a chorus of: Nos.

<< I dont think it was white fire, >>Sinon said. He ordered his block to
replay the memory. The gouts of flame spearing out of each corner were
orange, and they came from inside the house.

<< Sabotage? >>Choma said.

<< Could be. They were perfectly placed for demolition. >>

They were on their way down the stairs when the second house exploded. It
was on the far side of town, being examined by one of the other squads.
One serjeant was killed, another two were injured beyond any field
medics ability to patch up; they needed immediate evacuation. The rest
of Sinons squad stood back as he clambered up over the mound of stone
and girders which had been the house. When he was clear of the mud he ran
a sensor pad over the exposed rubble close to one of the corners. The
rain was washing the mess clean, but the chemical analysis still had
enough residual molecules to work with.

<< Not good, >>he announced. << This wasnt white fire. Theres a
definite trace of trinitrotoluene here. >>

<< Sod it! >>Choma exclaimed. << The bastards have booby trapped the
whole town. >>

<< Parts of it. I doubt theyve got the resources to rig every building.
>>

<< But you can bet theyve done the critical ones, as well as picking on
houses at random, >>he said grudgingly. << Its what I wouldve done. >>

<< If youre right, were going to have to treat each building as
potentially hazardous. And we dont even know what the trigger is. >>

<< I doubt itll be electronic. Our sensors would spot active processors,
and the possessed wouldnt be able to set them up in the first place.
Well have to get some of the marine engineers in here to find out what
kind of mechanism theyre employing. >>

Sinons response was lost amid a burst of anguish within the communal
affinity band. Both of them instinctively turned to the west. The death
of another two serjeants was all too clear. A warehouse in a town called
Holywell had just exploded.

<< Its not just here, >>Choma said. << Ekelunds people have been busy.
>>



Confirmation that most major towns around the periphery of Mortonridge
were booby trapped came in to the Ops Room throughout the afternoon.
Ralph sat in his office assessing the reports in a state of weary
disbelief. Progress schematics were being revised on a fifteen minute
basis by the AI. Their original timetable was constantly rearranged,
targets being pushed further and further back.

Truly amazing, he told Princess Kirsten during the evenings briefing.
Were fifteen hours in, and already twenty behind schedule.

Conditions are pretty foul under there, Admiral Farquar said. I dont
see Ekelunds people having a better time of it.

How would we know? Fifteen hours, and we havent had a single encounter
with a live possessed. Christ, I mean I know no battle plan survives
contact with the enemy, but no one ever said anything about it
disintegrating before we even catch sight of them.

General Hiltch, the Princess said sharply. Id like you to give me
some positive factors, please. Have all the possessed simply vanished
into this other realm they long for?

We dont think so, no, maam. Pulling back from the coast and the
firebreak is a logical move. They obviously worked it out in advance,
hence the booby traps.

Theres circumstantial evidence that theyre still in the centre of
Mortonridge, Diana said. Our satellite sensor scans are at their worst
there. Radar and UV laser is beginning to break through the fringes, but
when we try to probe the centre we get the same kind of hazing effect the
possessed have always generated. QED, theyre still there.

Thats something, I suppose.

I also think the worst of the rain should be over by midday tomorrow.
Results from the sensors we can rely on show us the cloud is thinning
out. A lot of it is simply blowing out to sea now theyre no longer
containing it. And of course, its falling, bigtime.

It certainly is, Acacia said. She shuddered at the on-the-ground
impressions affinity had delivered to her. Youre going to have real
problems with Mortonridges vegetation when this is all over. I doubt
theres a tree standing on the whole peninsula. I didnt know rain like
that could exist.

It cant, normally, Diana said. This whole meteorology situation is
highly artificial. The dispersal will influence the planets weather
patterns for the rest of the year. However, it certainly isnt
sustainable; as I said, the heaviest falls will be over by midday
tomorrow. After that, the serjeants will be able to make decent progress.

Over open country, possibly, Ralph said. But were going to have to
vector in these booby traps.

Do we know what they are, yet? the Princess asked.

The majority so far are good old fashioned TNT, Ralph told her. Easily
produced from the kind of chemicals available in most of our urban zones.
We managed to get some marine engineers in to the afflicted towns to
examine what they could. Theres no standard trigger mechanism, naturally
enough. The possessed are using everything from trip wires to wired up
door knobs. Theres just no quick way to deal with them. The whole point
of the front line serjeants is to clear every metre of ground as they
advance. Knowing youre in danger just by walking in to a building is
going to be very stressful for the entire army, Im afraid. Doing the job
properly is going to slow us down considerably.

So will the mud, Janne said. We know where the roads are, but no ones
actually seen a solid surface yet.

Progress down the M6 is slow, Cathal confirmed. The major bridges are
out. We expected that, of course. But the mechanoids are having a lot of
trouble erecting the replacements the convoys are carrying, theyre just
not designed to operate in this kind of environment.

That situation should ease off tomorrow as well, Diana said.

The rain, yes; but the mud will still be there.

Were going to have to learn to live with that, Im afraid. Its here
for the duration.



<< Did you know, the original ethnic Eskimos on Earth had several dozen
words for snow, >>Sinon said.

<< Really? >>Choma answered from the other side of the winding ravine
they were following.

<< Apparently so. >>

<< Excuse me for having my neural array assembled in too much of a hurry,
but I dont quite see the relevance to our current situation. >>

<< I just thought, it might be appropriate if we had an equal number of
names for mud. >>

<< Oh right. Yes. Lets see, we could have real crappy mud, bloody awful
mud, pain in the ass mud, squeezes inside your exoskeleton and squelches
a lot mud, and then theres always the ultimate: drowning in mud. >>

<< You have a much higher emotional context than the rest of us, dont
you? Your jest about neural array assembly might be an unintentional
truism. >>

<< You are what you bring to yourself. >>

<< Quite. >>Sinon stepped over yet another fallen branch. It was mid
afternoon of the Liberations second day. All the serjeants had received
the revised schedule from the Fort Forward Ops Room, they were expected
to move across the land at about half the speed originally intended. Very
optimistic, Sinon thought.

It had taken until four oclock in the morning to secure Billesdon. Now
they knew they were dealing with TNT, the sensor blocks had been
programmed to sniff it out. Given TNTs relatively unstable nature, there
were usually enough molecules left floating round inside the building to
provide a positive detection. The damp didnt help, but by and large, the
blocks protected them.

Sinon himself had found two houses that were rigged. Theyd learned to
tie the blocks to the end of long poles, and push them through windows
and doors already forced open by the mud. Each time, hed designated the
buildings, and they were left for the marine engineers to send mechanoids
in at some later time. Theyd still lost another eight serjeants before
the town was cleared.

The landing boats had returned as a feeble dawn broke; carrying their
supplies, more jeeps, and the first of the marines troops. The wind had
calmed, although the rain was still as intense. And the big harbour basin
was now clotting up with mud, hampering their manoeuvring as they docked.
But by mid morning, the quayside was thick with activity. A degree of
confidence returned to the serjeants. They were getting back on track.
With the marines holding Billesdon, the whole battalion began to deploy
back out along the coast ready for the push inland.

True to Diana Tiernans prediction, the rain did start to slacken by
midday. Or at least, they convinced themselves it had; the light
perforating the clouds was noticeably brighter. It did nothing to
alleviate the misery of the mud. There had never been a landscape like it
on any terracompatible Confederation world. Rover reporters stood on the
edge of town, starkly silent as their enhanced retinas faithfully
delivered the devastation back to the millions of citizens accessing the
Liberation. Only the contours of the land remained stable, the mud had
claimed everything else. There were no fields, or meadows, or scrubland,
just a slick piss-brown coating, undulating and gurgling as it crept
inexorably along. Mortonridge had become a single quagmire, extending
from the sea to the horizon. Sensors in orbit showed the stain around the
coast was already ten kilometres wide, and still spreading incursive
fingers hungrily into the calm turquoise ocean.

Along with the rest of his squad, Sinon trudged through the forest,
scrambling over the fallen trunks and their even more troublesome roots.
Nothing had been left standing upright, although the tide of mud lacked
the force to carry the trees with it. Superficially, the area resembled a
bayou, although here the fractured wood was razor sharp, lacking the worn
rottenness of plants growing in genuine swampland. Real bayous didnt
have so many dead animals, either.

Like the vegetation, Mortonridges indigenous creatures had taken a
dreadful punishment. Birds and ground animals had drowned in their
millions. Their corpses too, were part of the loose detritus carried
along by the mud as it slid downwards into the ocean. Except in the
forest, where the branches and root webs acted like nets. They were
clustered round each tree, anonymous lumps, distending as they started to
decompose. Heavy bubbles swelled across them like clumps of inflatable
fungus as body gases forced a way out.

His battalion had been arranged in a line eighty kilometres wide, centred
around Billesdon and its flanks merging with other battalions. This was
the time when the army was stretched to its absolute maximum, completely
encircling the entire peninsula. The AI had spaced the serjeants fifty
metres apart right along the coast, planning on them yomping forwards
together in a giant contracting sweep manoeuvre. If a possessed did try
to hide out in the countryside they would never be more than twenty-five
metres away from one of the serjeants. A combination of eyesight,
infrared, SD satellite observation, and ELINT blocks ought to be able to
locate them. Jeeps, trucks and reserve squads trailed behind the front
line in columns one kilometre apart, ready to reinforce any section of
the line that came under heavy attack. Mustered behind them were the
prisoner-handling details.

When the gigantic formation was complete, the serjeants paused,
reaffirming their commitment to the Liberation, celebrating the unity and
accomplishment. Mortonridge was sealed off ahead of them, and now they
were physically in place after all that had befallen, success appeared
tangible. Doubt was banished.

Go, Ralph ordered.

The pattern started to waver as soon as the serjeants left the coast
behind. Mountain roads and tracks had vanished altogether. Valley floors
were now deep rivers of mud. No vehicles could plough through the broken
remains of the forests. The AI began to guide them round obstacles,
always keeping the reserves within optimum distance of the front line.
Slowing some sections of the advance, directing extra serjeants to expand
the line over steep terrain.

They had their first encounter with a possessed seventy-six minutes after
they started. Sinon watched through another set of eyes as the serjeant
up near the firebreak fired its machine gun at a heat corona coming from
behind an upturned car. Sparkling bullets ripped straight through the
composite bodywork. Tendrils of enraged white fire curved over the top in
retaliation. Another serjeant opened fire. The entire line halted,
waiting to see what would happen.

For a moment there was no effect. Then the white fire faded, turning
translucent before the rain smothered it, drops steaming as they fell
through. A man staggered out from behind the wrecked car, hands waving
madly as the bullets thudded into him. Ripples of purple light blazed out
from every impact, swathing his body in a wondrous pyrotechnic display.
The serjeant upped the fire rate.

Stop it! the man screamed. He crashed to his knees, hands batting
feebly to ward off the machine gun. Stop it for fucks sake. I
surrender, goddamn it.

The serjeant eased off the trigger, and walked forwards. Lie down flat,
put your hands behind your head. Do not attempt to move or apply your
energistic power.

Fuck you, the man snarled through clenched teeth. His body was shaking
badly.

Down. Now!

All right, all right. He lowered himself into the mud. Mind if I dont
go any further? Even we cant breathe mud.

The serjeant took its holding stick from its belt, a dull silver cylinder
half a metre long. It telescoped out to two metres, and a pincer clamp at
one end opened wide.

What the hell . . . ? the man grunted as the serjeant closed the clamp
round his neck.

This restraint has a dead-man function. If I let go, or Im made to let
go, it will fire ten thousand volts into you. If you resist or refuse to
obey any instruction, I will shove a current into you and keep turning it
up until your energistic ability is neutralised. Do you understand?

Youre gonna die one day, youre going to join us.

The serjeant switched on a two hundred volt current.

Jesus wept, the man squealed.

Do you understand?

Yes. Yes, fuck. Turn it off. Off!

Very well. You will now leave this body.

Or what, asshole? If you zap me too hard we both die. Me and my host.

If you do not leave of your own volition, you will be placed in
zero-tau.

Fuck. I cant go back there. He started sobbing. Dont you understand?
I cant. Not there. Please. Please, if youve got an ounce of humanity in
you, dont do this. Im begging you.

Im sorry. That is not an option. Leave now.

I cant.

The serjeant pulled on the holding stick, forcing the possessed to his
feet. This way.

What now?

Zero-tau.

The cheering in the Ops Room was deafening. Ralph actually grinned out at
them from his office, the image of the captured possessed being led away
lingering in his mind. It might work, he thought. It just might. He
remembered walking out of Exnall, the girl crying limply in his arms,
Ekelunds mocking laughter in the air.

Enjoy your victory with the girl, shed sneered. His only personal
success in that entire frightful night.

Two down, Ralph whispered. Two million to go.



The fish were dying. Stephanie thought that the oddest thing. This rain
should be their chance to take over the whole world. Instead the
ever-thickening mud was clogging up their gills, preventing them from
breathing. They lay on the surface, being pushed along by the leisurely
waves of water, their bodies flapping madly.

We should like hollow out some logs, man, use them as canoes. Thats
what our ancestors used to do, and those cats were like really in tune
with nature, Cochrane suggested when they cleared the end of the valley.

Theyd only just made it, the sluggish river was leaking over the top of
the track. At times it seemed as if the whole surface of the valley was
on the move. They stood above the gurgling edge of the flow, and watched
the gargantuan outpouring spread out to surge on across the lowlands.

Fat lot of use that would be, Franklin muttered grimly. Everythings
heading down to the coast, and thats where they are. Besides, he
gestured round extravagantly at the denuded valley. What trees?

You are such a downer. I want some wheels, man. I have like totally had
it with tramping through this shit.

I thought cars were spawned by the capitalist Establishment to promote
our greed and distance us from nature, Rana said sweetly. Im sure I
heard somebody say that recently.

Cochrane kicked at the fish flopping about round his feet. Get off my
back, prickly sister. Okay? Im thinking of Moyo. He cant handle this.

Just . . . quiet, Stephanie said. Even she was waspish, fed up with the
pettiness they were all displaying. The ordeal of the bus and then the
track had stretched everyones nerves. How are you? she asked Moyo.

His face had returned to normal, the illusion swallowing his bandage and
shielding his scabbed tissue from sight. Even his eyeballs appeared to
dart about naturally. But hed taken a lot of cajoling and encouragement
to walk along the track. His thoughts had contracted, gathering round a
centre of sullen self-pity. Ill be okay, he mumbled. Just get me out
of this rain. I hate it.

Amen to that, Cochrane chirped.

Stephanie looked round the shabby landscape. Visibility was still pretty
ropy on the other side of their protective umbrella, though it was
definitely lighter now. It was hard to believe this eternal featureless
mire was the same vigorous green countryside theyd travelled across in
the Karmic Crusader. Well we cant go that way, she gestured at the
cataract of muddy water rumbling away into the distance. So I guess
well have to stick to this side. Anyone remember roughly where the road
is?

Along there, I think, McPhee said. Neither voice or mind-tone suggested
much confidence in the claim. Theres definitely a flat ledge. See? The
carbon-concrete must have held up.

Till the foundation gets washed out from under it, Franklin said.

Stephanie couldnt honestly see any difference in the mud where he was
pointing. All right, well go for it.

How far? Tina demanded querulously. And how long will it take to get
there?

Depends where youre heading, babe, Cochrane said.

Well I dont know, do I? I wouldnt ask if I did.

Any kind of building will do, Stephanie said. We can reinforce it
against the weather ourselves. I just want us out of this. We can think
what to do next when were rested up. Come on. Stephanie gripped Moyos
hand and began to walk in the direction the road was supposed to be. Fish
tails slapped pitifully at her wellingtons.

Oh man, it dont make no difference what we decide. We know whats like
gonna happen.

Then stay here and let it, Rana told the miserable hippie. She started
off after Stephanie.

I didnt say I was in a rush. The edge of the invisible shield moved
towards Cochrane, and he scrambled after them.

There was a village called Ketton on this road, McPhee said. I
remember going through it before we turned off up to the farm.

How far? Tina asked, her voice rising in hope.

Cochrane smiled happily. Miles and miles, itll probably take us like
about tentwenty days.



A ferocious jet of white fire squirted into the wall two metres above
Sinons head. He flattened himself into the mud below as paint ignited
and carbon-concrete blistered.

<< Coming from the shops, seventy metres right. >>It was hard to see with
all the smoke mingling with the rain, but his retinas had a long purple
after image scorched across them.

<< Got it, >>Kerrial answered.

The white fire expanded into a thin circular sheet, rivulets trickled
down, their tips wriggling purposefully towards Sinon. Shit. If he
stayed the fire would get him, if he moved hed lose the cover which the
wall provided. And there must be several of them in the shops; two other
serjeants were under attack as well.

Eayres was a nothing village in the guidance blocks memory. A cluster of
houses clumped round a road junction, its population mostly employed by
the local marble quarry. Who would expect the possessed to make a stand
here? Expect the unexpected, Choma had chanted happily when the white
fireballs burst open amid the squad.

Sinon saw Kerrial swing himself into position, bringing his machine gun
to bear on the shops in the middle of the village. Bullet craters slammed
across the brickwork in front of him. Then his body was being flung back,
nerve channels shutting down. Blackness. Kerrials memories arose from
his neural array to be absorbed by an orbiting voidhawk.

<< Theyve got guns! >>Sinon broadcast.

<< Yes, >>Choma said. << I saw. >>

<< Where did they get them from? >>

<< This is the countryside, hunting is a sport here. Besides, did you
think we had a monopoly? >>

The white fire rivulets had reached the ground. Steam roared up as they
floated sinuously along the top of the mud towards Sinon. He scrambled to
his feet, and jumped forward. The white fire behind him vanished.
Another, brighter, spear lanced out of a shops fractured window. He hit
the mud, rolling desperately as he brought his grenade launcher to bear.

<< Youll kill them, >>Choma warned. Sinons right leg went dead as the
white fire engulfed it. He slamfired the launcher, hand pumping the
mechanism with cyborg intent.

Grenades thudded into the upper floor of the shop, detonating instantly.
The ceiling split open, hurling down a torrent of rubble as the roof
caved in. Three radiant lines of machine gun fire poured through the
ground floor windows and into the tumult inside. The white fire
evaporated into tiny violet wisps, splattering off Sinons leg. He
scrambled up, and pushed himself hard for the buildings dead ahead,
dragging his useless leg along. Crashing through the first door to land
in a deserted bar.

<< Clever, >>Choma said. << I think thats got them cold. >>

The white fire had gone out everywhere. Serjeants converged on the little
row of prim shops, walking forwards steadily, firing their machine guns
continually. The squad had responded to the possessed like antibodies
reacting to an incursive virus. Flowing in towards the village from both
sides, the reserve squad racing forward. A miniature version of the noose
contracting around Mortonridge. They had it encircled within minutes.
Then began their advance.

Seventeen of them walked through the smoke that whirled along Main
Street, impervious to the flames roaring out of the buildings all around.
Their gunfire was concentrated on the shops, aiming their vivid bullets
through any gap they could find. Weird lights flickered inside, as if
someone had activated a nightclub hologram rig. Steam fountained out
through windows and cracks in the wall.

All right. Enough. Enough, God damn it. Were through.

The ring of serjeants held their places ten metres from the central shop,
feet apart, juddering in time to the roaring guns.

ENOUGH. We surrender. The machine guns fell silent.

Lumps of stone stirred on the mound of rubble which had been the shops
upper floor, spinning down to splash into the ubiquitous mire. Limbs
began to emerge amid a welter of coughing. Six possessed squirmed free,
holding up their hands and blinking uncomfortably. More serjeants moved
forwards to clamp their necks with holding sticks.



Elana Duncan reached Eayres two hours later. The fires were out by then,
extinguished by the rain. She whistled appreciatively as she climbed out
of the truck, a sound violent enough to make the marines wince. Must
have been a hell of a fight, she said in envy. The trucks had halted in
the villages main street. Over half of the buildings around her had been
flattened into small hillocks of debris; of those that remained, few were
left with roofs. Naked, heat-twisted girders skewered up into the gloomy
sky. Black soot stains smeared over entire walls were already dissolving
under the rain to reveal deep bullet pocks.

Marines began jumping down from the other trucks in the convoy. It was a
familiar routine by now. Urban zones, whatever the size, were occupied by
a garrison. They served as emergency reserves and staging post; also a
transitory field hospital a lot of the time. The possessed werent giving
up without a fight. The marine lieutenant in charge started shouting
orders, and the troops fanned out to secure the perimeter. Elana and the
other mercs began unloading their truck with the help of five mud-caked
mechanoids.

First off was a programmable multipurpose silicon hall. An oval
twenty-five metres long, with open archways along the sides. It was a
standard Kulu Royal Marine corps issue, designed for tropical climates,
with an overhang in anticipation of heavy showers, and allowing a
constant breeze to filter through. Ordinarily ideal for a place like
Mortonridge. Now, they were having to direct the mechanoids to bulldoze
up a base from soil and stone which they then sealed over with fast-set
polymer. It was the only way to keep the halls floor above mud level.

Once that was up, they started moving the zero-tau pods in. A double file
of serjeants marched down the main street, escorting three possessed.
Elana splashed out to greet them. She enjoyed this part of her duty.

One of the possessed had given up, a man in his late sixties. Shed seen
that before. Filthy, torn clothes. Not bothering to heal his wounds. Even
the rain was allowed to soak him. The other two were more typical.
Dignity intact. Clothes immaculate, not a scratch on them. The rain
bounced off as if they had a frictionless coating. Elana gave one of them
a long look. A woman in a prim antique blue suit, white blouse with a
lace collar, and pearl necklace. Her hair was a solid bottle blonde
coiffure that could have been carved from rock for all the wind affected
it. She gave Elana a single distasteful glance, defiantly arrogant.

Elana nodded affably at the serjeant guarding her, whose leg was wrapped
in a medical package tube. Humm, shes the third one of these today. And
I thought that woman was unique.

Excuse me? the serjeant asked.

They enjoy historical figures. Ive been accessing my encylopedias
history files ever since this campaign started, trying to place them.
Hitlers are quite popular, sos Napoleon and Richard Saldana, then
theres Cleopatra. Somebody called Ellen Ripley is a big favourite with
the women, too; but none of my search programs have managed to track her
down yet.

The blue-suited woman looked dead ahead, and smiled a secret smile.

Okay, Elana said. Bring them in.

The mercenaries were hooking the zero-tau pods up to their power cells,
datavising diagnostics through the management processors. Elanas ELINT
block gave a warning bleep. She rounded on the three prisoners, pulling a
high-voltage shockrod from her belt. Her voice boomed out from her facial
grille, echoing round the hall.

Cut that out, shitbrains. You lost, and this is the end of the line. Too
late to argue about it now. The serjeants might be too honourable and
decent to fry your bodies, but Im not. And this is my part of the
operation. Got that? The ELINT block quietened. Good. Then well get
along just fine in your final minutes in this universe. Any last minute
cigarettes, you can indulge yourselves. Otherwise just keep quiet.

I see you have found an occupation which obviously suits you.

Huh? She glanced down at serjeant with the injured leg.

We met at Fort Forward, just after arriving. I am Sinon.

Her three claws snapped together with a loud click. Oh yes, the cannon
fodder guy. Sorry, you all look alike to me.

We are identical.

Glad to see you survived. Though God knows how you managed it. Trying to
storm ashore through that weather was the dumbest military decision since
the Trojans took a shine to that horse.

I think youre being unduly cynical.

Dont give me that crap. You must have a decent dose of it too, if
youve survived this long. Remember the oldest military rule, my friend.

Never volunteer for anything?

Generals always fuck up bad.

The first zero-tau pod opened. Elana pointed her shock-rod at the
blue-suited woman. Okay, Prime Minister, you first. Sinon kept the
holding stick round her neck as she backed in. Metal manacles closed
round her limbs, and Elana switched on a mild current. The woman glared
out, her face drawn back with the effort of fighting the electricity.

Just in case, Elana told Sinon. We had a few try to break free once
they finally realize their numbers up. You can take the holding stick
off now. The clamp sprang open, and Sinon stood clear. You going to
leave all nice and voluntarily? Elana asked. The front of the zero-tau
pod was already swinging shut. The woman spat weakly. Didnt think so.
Not you.

The zero-tau pod turned midnight black. Elana heard a hiss of breath from
one of the waiting possessed, but didnt say anything.

How long do you leave them in there? Sinon asked.

Cook them for about fifteen minutes. Then we open up to see if theyre
done. If not, its just back in for progressively longer periods. Ive
had one hold out for about ten hours before, but that was the limit.

That sounds suspiciously like enjoyment to me.

Elana waved the next possessed into his pod. Nothing suspicious about
it. General Hiltch, God fuck him, says Im not allowed in the front line.
So this is the second best duty as far as Im concerned. I dont take
marine discipline too good. Sitting with a bunch of those pansy-asses in
a place like this counting raindrops would have me thrown off-planet
inside of a day. So as Im technologically competent, me and my friends
requested this placement. It works out fine. Armys short of skilled
techs who can also handle the noise if the possessed start to panic: we
fit the bill. And this way I get to see the bastards booted out of their
bodies. I know its happening.

The second possessed was put in a zero-tau pod. He didnt resist. Then
the third zero-tau pod was activated. Elana aimed the shock rod at the
last possessed, the apathetic one. Hey, cheer up. This is your lucky
day, looks like the reserves got called out. Youre on, kid. He gave her
a broken look and grimaced. His features melted, shrinking back to reveal
a wizened face with anaemically pale skin.

Catch him, Elana yelled. The mans legs buckled. He pitched forward
into her arms. Thought that one might quit, she said in satisfaction.

Choma removed the holding sticks clamp from around his neck. Elana eased
him down onto the floor, calling for blankets and some pillows. Damn it,
we havent had time to unpack the medical gear yet, she said. And were
going to need it. Those bastards.

Whats the matter? Sinon asked.

Elanas claw sliced through the mans raggedy shirt, exposing his chest.
There were strange ridges swelling out of his skin, mimicking the lines
of muscle a healthy twenty-year-old mesomorph might have. When she
prodded one with the tip of a claw, it sagged like a sack of jelly.

They always go for perfection, she explained to Sinon and Choma.
Assholes. I dont know what that energistic power is, but it screws up
their flesh real bad under the illusion. Sometimes you get fat deposits
building up, thats pretty harmless; but nine times out of ten, its
tumours.

All of them? Sinon asked.

Yep. Never satisfied with what theyve got. Im sure its a metaphor for
something, but Im buggered if I can figure out what. Were having to
ship everyone who gets de-possessed back to Xingu and into one of the
major hospitals. Theyre overflowing already, and they dont have enough
nanonic packages to go around. Another week of this, and the entire Ombey
system is going to go into medical meltdown. And thats not taking you
guys into account; youre not exactly emerging unscathed from the
Liberation.

Can we help?

Not a thing you can do, sorry. Now if you could clear out . . . Ive got
to try and organize some sort of transport for this batch. Hell, I wish
we had hovercraft, theyre the only things that can travel properly over
this swamp. That dickhead Hiltch wont allow any planes in under the
cloud yet.

Sinon and Choma left her and another couple of mercenaries running
medical scanners over the unconscious man.

<< All of them? >>Sinon repeated gloomily. The prospect kindled a
sensation of alarm, in itself a worrying development. He hadnt
configured himself to be waylaid by impulsive emotions. << Do you know
what that means? >>

<< Trouble, >>Choma declared. << Real bad trouble. >>


Chapter 08
==========


The vac-trains were an excellent solution to Earths transport problem in
the age of the arcologies. There were no aircraft any more. The armada
storms had finished off air travel in the same way they made people
abandon their cars. One of the late Twenty-first Centurys most enduring
newscable images was of a farmers pick-up truck rammed through the
nineteenth-floor window of the Sears Tower in the wake of a storm. As the
planets population flowed into cities and began strengthening them
against the weather, so they turned to trains as the only practical
method of transport between urban conglomerations. Heavy and stolid,
tornadoes couldnt fling them about so easily. Of course, they still took
a battering from the wind if they were caught out in the open. So the
next logical stage was to protect the tracks in the same way the domes
were going up to shield the city centres. The first real example was the
channel tunnel, which was extended to cover the whole journey between
London and Paris. Once that proved viable, the global rail network was
rapidly expanded. As with any macro-infrastructure project awash with
government money, the technology advanced swiftly.

By the time Louise and Genevieve arrived on Earth, the vac-trains were a
highly mature system, travelling at considerable speed between stations.
Common wisdom had the tunnels drilled kilometres deep in the safety of
the bedrock. Not so; a lot of the time they didnt even qualify as
tunnels. Giant tubes were laid over the abandoned land, and buried just
below the surface. It was much easier to maintain the vacuum inside that
kind of factory-manufactured subway than in a rock tunnel. Tectonics
played havoc with rigid lava walls that had been melted by a flame of
fusion plasma; experience showed they fractured easily, and on a couple
of occasions actually sheered. So tunnels were only used to thread the
tubes through mountains and plunge deep under arcologies. Even
trans-oceanic routes were laid in trenches and anchored in place.

With no air to create friction, the trains were free to accelerate hard;
on the longer trans-Pacific runs they touched Mach fifteen. Powered by
linear motors, they were quick, smooth, silent, and efficient. The trip
from Mount Kenya station to Londons Kings Cross took Louise and
Genevieve forty-five minutes, with one stop at Gibraltar. Airlocks at
both ends of their carriage matched up with platform hatches, and popped
open.

All passengers for London please disembark, the sparkling AV pillars on
the carriage ceiling announced. This train will depart for Oslo in four
minutes.

The girls collected their big shoulder bags and hurried out onto the
platform. They emerged into a long rectangular chamber, its ornately
sculpted walls harking back to long-distant imperial grandeur. The line
of twenty hatches connecting to the train appeared to be made of black
wrought iron, Victorian-era space technology. On the opposite side, three
large archways led to broad wave escalators that spiralled upwards with
impressive curves.

Genevieve stayed close behind her big sister as she negotiated their way
across the platform. At least this time they managed to avoid barging in
to people. Excitement was powering a smile that would not fade.

An Earth arcology. London! Where we all came from originally. Homesort
of. How utterly utterly stupendous. It was the complete opposite of the
nightmare that had been Norfolk by the time they left. This world had
massive defences, and its people could do whatever they wanted with lots
of fabulous machines to help them. She held Louises hand tightly as they
stepped onto the wave elevator. Where next?

Dont know, Louise said. For some reason she was completely calm.
Lets see whats up there, shall we?

The wave escalator brought them onto the floor of a huge hemispherical
cavern. It was like the arrivals hall of Mount Kenya station, only
larger. The base of the wall was pierced by tunnel entrances radiating
out to lift shafts and platforms for the local train network, while the
floor was broken by concentric rows of wave elevators to the vac-trains.
Bright informational spheres formed tightly packed streamers five metres
above the heads of the thronging passengers, weaving around each other
with serpentine grace. Right in the centre was a single flared spire of
rock that rose up to eventually merge into the roofs apex.

Its just another station, Genevieve said in mild disappointment.
Were still underground.

Looks like it. Louise squinted up. Black flecks were zipping through
the strata of informationals, as if they were suffering from static. She
smiled, pointing. Birds, look.

Genevieve twirled round, following their erratic flight. There were all
sorts, from pert brown sparrows to emerald and turquoise parrots.

Wed better find a hotel, I suppose, Louise said. She pulled her
shoulder bag round to take the processor block out.

Genevieve tugged at her arm. Oh please, Louise. Cant we go up to the
surface first? I just want to look. Ill be good, I promise. Please?

Louise tucked the shoulder bag back. I wouldnt mind a peek myself. She
studied the informationals, catching sight of one that seemed promising.
Come on. She caught Gens hand. This way.

They took a lift up to the surface. It brought them out in a
mock-Hellenic temple at the middle of a wide plaza full of statues and
fenced in by huge oaks. A small commemorative plaque on a worn pillar
marked the passing of the stations old surface structures and iron rail
tracks. Louise walked out from the shade of the temple, wandering
aimlessly for a few yards until she simply stopped. It was as if the
arcology was appearing in segments before her. Slowly. As soon as her
mind acknowledged one part, another would flip up behind that, demanding
recognition.

Though she didnt know it, Kings Cross was the geographical heart of the
tremendous Westminster Dome, which at thirty kilometres in diameter
enclosed most of the original city, from Ealing in the west to Woolwich
in the east. Ever since the first small protective domes went up over
London (a meagre four km wide to start withthe best Twenty-first Century
materials technology could manage), preservation orders had been slapped
on every building of historical or architectural significance, which the
conservationists basically defined as anything not built from concrete.
By the time the Westminster Dome was constructed over that initial
cluster of ageing weather shields, the outlying districts had undergone
significant changes, but any Londoner from the mid Nineteenth Century
onwards would have been able to find their way around the central portion
without too much trouble. It was essentially one of the largest lived-in
museums on the planet.

The nine smaller domes circling round outside the Westminster, however,
were a different matter. London didnt have the megatowers of New York,
but the arcology still housed a quarter of a billion people beneath its
geodesic crystal roofs. The outer domes were purpose built, four hundred
square kilometres apiece of thoroughly modern arcology, with only tiny
little zones of original buildings left as curios amid the gleaming
condos, skyscrapers, and malls.

Louise wasnt aware of them at all. She could see on the other side of
the oaks that the plaza was encircled by a wide road jammed with sleek
vehicles, all driving so close together you couldnt walk between them.
The vehicles merged in and out of the giant roundabout from wide streets
that radiated away between the beautiful ancient grey-stone buildings
surrounding the plaza. When she raised her gaze above the blue-slate
roofs and their elaborate chimney stacks, she could see even grander and
taller buildings behind them. Then beyond those . . . It was as though
she was standing at the bottom of a mighty crater whose walls were made
entirely from buildings. Around the plaza they were elegant and unique,
with each one somehow merging cleanly into its neighbours to form compact
refined streets; but they grew from that to plainer, larger skyscrapers,
spaced further apart. The towers artistry came from the overall shape
rather than detailed embellishments, moulded to suggest Gothic, Roman,
Art Deco, and Alpine Bavarian influences among others.

And gathering all those disparate architectural siblings within its
sheltering embrace was the external wall. A single redoubtable cliff of
windows, a mosaic of panes so dense it blended into a seamless band of
glass, blazing gold under the noonday sun. Out of that, rose the dome
itself, an artificial sky of crystal.

Louise sat down heavily on the plazas stone slabs, and let out a whoosh
of breath. Gen sat beside her, arms folded protectively round her
shoulder bag. Londons pedestrians flowed round them, eyes consummately
averted.

Its very big, isnt it? Gen said quietly.

Certainly is. All those buildings, so many people. Despite feeling
light headed, a weight of worry was threatening to sink her again. How in
heavens name am I going to find a single person amid this multitude?
Especially when they probably dont want to be found.

Fletcher would really love this.

Louise looked at her sister. Yes. I think he would.

Do you suppose hed recognize any of it?

There may be bits left over from his time. Some of these buildings look
quite old. Well have to look it up in the local library memory. She
broke off and smiled. Thats it, everything you ever need to know is in
the processor memories. Banneth will be listed somewhere, I just have to
program in the right search. Come on. Hotel first. Then well get
something to eat. How does that sound?

Jolly nice. What hotel are we going to?

Give me a moment. She took her processor block out, and started
querying the arcologys general information centre. Category visitors,
subsection residential. Central, and civilized. Theyd wind up paying
more for a classy hotel, but at least theyd be safe. Louise knew there
were parts of Earths arcologies that were terribly crime-ridden. And
besides, Kavanaghs never stay anywhere that doesnt have a four-star
rating, Daddy had said once.

Information slid down the screen. They didnt seem to have star ratings
here, so she just went by price. Central London hotels, apparently, cost
as much to run as starships. At least the beds will be a lot more
comfortable.

The Ritz, she said finally.

That just left getting there. With Genevieve getting progressively more
impatient, as evidenced by overloud sighs and shuffling feet, Louise
requested surface transport options from Kings Cross to the Ritz. After
ten minutes struggling with horribly complicated maps and London Metro
timetables that kept flashing up she realized she wasnt quite as adept
at operating the block as she thought she was. However, the screen did
tell her there were taxis available.

Well take a cab.

Under Gens ungenerously sceptical look, she picked her shoulder bag up,
and started off towards the oaks at the rim of the plaza. Flocks of
parakeets and budgerigars pecking at the stone slabs stampeded out of her
way. Most of the subway entrances had the name of the streets they led
to, but a few had the London Transport symbol on top: blue circle cut by
a red line, with a crown in the middle. Louise went down one to find
herself in a short passage that opened out into a narrow parking bay.
Five identical silver-blue taxi cars were waiting silently, streamlined
bubbles with very fat tyres.

Now what? Genevieve said.

Louise consulted the block. She walked up to the first taxi, and keyed
the Commence Journey icon on the blocks screen. The door hissed out five
centimetres, then slid back along the body. We get in, she told her
sister smugly.

Oh very clever. What happens if you dont have a block to do that for
you?

I dont know. She couldnt see a handle anywhere. I suppose everyone
on this world is taught how to use things like this. Most of them have
neural nanonics, after all.

There wasnt much room inside, enough for four seats with deep curving
backs. Louise shoved her bag in the storage bin underneath, and studied
the screen again. The block was interfacing with the taxis control
processor, which made life a lot simpler for her. The whole activation
procedure was presented to her as a simple, easy-to-understand-menu. She
fed in their destination, and the door slid shut. The taxi told the block
what their fee was (as much as the vac-train fare from Mount Kenya), and
explained how to use the seat straps.

Ready? she asked Gen, when theyd fastened themselves in.

Yes. The little girl couldnt hide her enthusiasm.

Louise held her Jovian Bank disk up to the small panel on the taxis
central column, and transferred the money over. They started to roll
forward. The taxi took them up a steep ramp, accelerating fast enough to
press the sisters back into their seat cushioning. The reason was simple
enough, they emerged right in the middle of the traffic racing round the
Kings Cross plaza, slotting in without the slightest fuss.

Genevieve laughed excitedly as they zipped across several lanes, then
slowed slightly to turn off down one of the broad streets. Golly, this
is better than the aeroambulance. The little girl grinned.

Louise rolled her eyes. Though once she accepted the fact that the
control processor did know how to drive, she began to breathe normally
again. The buildings rushing past were old and sombre, which gave them a
dignity all of their own. On the other side of the pavement barrier,
pedestrians jostled their way along in a permanent scrum.

I never knew there were so many people, Gen said. London must have
more than live on the whole of Norfolk.

Probably, Louise agreed.

The taxi took them a third of the way round the expressway, then turned
off, heading back down to ground level. There were parks on both sides of
the road when they started their descent, then buildings rose up to their
left, and they were back on one of the ancient streets again. The
pavements here didnt seem so crowded. They slowed drastically, pulling
over to the right alongside a large cube of white-grey stone with tall
windows lined by iron railings and a steep state roof. An open arcade ran
along the front, supported by wide arches. The taxi stopped level with a
gate in the roadside barrier, which a doorman opened smartly. He was
dressed in a dark blue coat and top hat, a double row of brass buttons
gleamed down his chest. At last, Louise felt at home. This was something
she could deal with.

If the doorman was surprised at who climbed out of the taxi he never
showed it. Are you staying here, miss? he asked.

I hope so, yes.

He nodded politely, and ushered them under the arcade towards the main
entrance.

Genevieve eyed the front of the stolid building sceptically. It looks
dreadfully gloomy.

The lobby inside was white and gold, with chandeliers resembling
frost-encrusted branches that had dazzling stars at the tip of each twig.
Arches along the long central aisle opened into big rooms that were full
of prim white tables where people were sitting having tea. Waiters in
long black tailcoats bustled about, carrying trays with silver teapots
and very tempting cakes.

Louise marched confidently over to the gleaming oak reception desk. A
twin room, please.

The young woman standing behind smiled professionally. Yes, madam. How
long for?

Um. A week to start with.

Of course. Ill need your ident flek, please, to register. And there is
a deposit.

Oh, we havent got an ident flek.

Were from Norfolk, Gen said eagerly.

The receptionists composure flickered. Really? She cleared her throat.
If youre from offworld, your passports will be satisfactory.

Louise handed the passports over, thinking briefly of Endron again, and
wondering how much trouble the Martian was in right now. The receptionist
scanned the passports in a block and took the deposit from Louise. A
bellboy came forward and relieved the sisters of their bags before
showing them into a lift.

Their room was on the fourth floor, with a large window overlooking the
park. The decor was so reminiscent of the kind Norfolk landowners
worshiped it gave Louise a sense of dj vu; regal-purple wallpaper and
furniture so old the wood was virtually black beneath the polish. Her
feet sank into a carpet well over an inch thick.

Where are we? Gen asked the bellboy. She was pressed up against the
window, staring out. I mean, whats that park called?

Thats Green Park, miss.

So are we near anywhere famous?

Buckingham Palace is on the other side of the park.

Gosh.

He showed Louise the rooms processor block, which was built in to the
dresser. Any information you need on the city for your stay should be in
here; it has a comprehensive tourist section, he said. She tipped him a
couple of fuseodollars when he left. Hed been holding his own credit
disk, casually visible through fingers splayed wide.

Genevieve waited until the door shut. Whats Buckingham Palace?



The AI was alert to the glitch within a hundredth of a second. Two ticket
dispenser processors and an informational projector. It brought
additional analysis programs on line, and ran an immediate verification
sweep of every electronic circuit in Grand Central Station.

Half a second. The response to a general acknowledgement datavise from
five sets of neural nanonics was incorrect. All of them were within a
seven metre zone, which also incorporated the failing ticket dispensers.

Two seconds. Security sensors in Grand Centrals concourse focused on the
suspect area. The AI datavised to B7s North American supervisor the fact
it had located a possessed-type glitch in New York. He had just framed
his query in reply when the sensors observed Bud Johnson go cartwheeling
over someone in a black robe crouched on the floor.

Three and a half seconds. There was a visual discontinuity. None of the
sensor short-term memory buffers had registered the black clad figure
before. It was as if hed just materialized out of nowhere. If he had
neural nanonics, then they were not responding to the ident request
datavise.

Four seconds. The North American supervisor took direct control of the
situation in conjunction with the AI. A datavised warning went out to the
rest of the supervisors.

Six seconds. The full B7 complement of supervisors was on line,
observing. The AIs visual characteristics program locked on to the
shadowed face inside the black robes hood. Quinn Dexter rose to his feet.

South Pacific: Nuke him. Now!

Western Europe: Dont be absurd.

Halo: SD platforms armed; do you want groundstrike?

North America: No. Its completely impractical. Grand Central Stations
concourse is a hundred and fifty metres below ground, and thats spread
out below three skyscrapers. There isnt an X-ray laser built that could
reach it.

South Pacific: Then use a real nuke. A combat wasp can be down there in
two minutes.

Asian Pacific: I second that.

Western Europe: No! Damn it. Will you morons control yourselves.

North America: Thank you. Im not going to blast Dome One into oblivion.
There are twenty million people living in there. Even Laton didnt kill
that many.

North Europe: You cant let him go. We have to exterminate him.

Western Europe: How?

North Europe: South Pacifics right. Nuke the shit. Im sorry about the
other inhabitants, but its the only way we can resolve the situation.

Western Europe: Observe, please.

Eleven seconds. Bud Johnsons face had turned purple. He scrabbled feebly
at his chest, then pitched over onto the floor. People clustered round
him. Quinn Dexter became translucent and quickly faded from view. The AI
reported all the processors had come back on line.

Military Intelligence: Oh shit.

Western Europe: Will a nuke kill him now do you think? Wherever he is.

South Pacific: One way to find out.

Western Europe: I cannot permit that. We exist primarily to protect
Earth. Even with our prerogatives, you cannot exterminate twenty million
people in the hope that you kill one terrorist.

Halo: The boys right, Im afraid. Im standing down the SD platforms.

South Pacific: Terrorist demon, more like.

Western Europe: Im not arguing definitions. All this does is confirm I
was right the first time. We have got to be extremely careful how we deal
with Dexter.

North Pacific: Well at least shut down New Yorks vac-trains.

Central America: Yes. Isolate him in New York. You can creep up on him
there.

Western Europe: Im going to have to say no again.

North Pacific: In Allahs name, why? We know where he is, that gives us
a tremendous advantage.

Western Europe: Its psychology. He knows we know hes here. Hes not
stupid, hell realize well find out about him appearing in Grand Central
station. The question is, how long does it take us to find out? If we
stop the vac-trains now, it shows him we are right up to speed and deeply
worried by him, and also that well go all out to stop him. Thats not
good, that puts him on guard.

Central America: So, hes on guard? If hes trapped in one place, it
wont do him any good. Hell still be on death row. He knows its coming,
and theres nothing he can do about it.

Western Europe: First thing hell do is mobilise New York to defend
himself. And well be back to one option of having to nuke the place.
Dont you see? Our arcologies are even more vulnerable than asteroid
settlements. They are utterly dependent on technology, not just to
protect us from the weather, but to feed us and condition our air. If you
confine three hundred million possessed inside one, every single chunk of
machinery will break down. The domes will shatter in the first storm that
comes along, and the population will either starve or turn cannibal.

Central America: Im prepared to sacrifice one arcology to save the
rest. If thats what it takes.

Western Europe: But we dont have to sacrifice one. Certainly not yet.
Youre being abysmally premature. Right now, Dexter will be skipping
round arcologies, establishing small groups of possessed wholl keep
their heads down until he gives the word. While hes doing that, weve
got a chance. There will only be small groups in each arcology, which we
really ought to be able to find. If other worlds can track them, so can
we. Dexter is our problem, not the ordinary possessed.

Asian Pacific: Put it to the vote.

Western Europe: How wonderfully democratic. Very well.

Six supervisors voted for closing down New Yorks vac-trains right away.
Ten voted to keep them open.

Western Europe: Thank you so much for your confidence.

Southern Africa: You have the ball for now. But if you havent dealt
with Dexter in another ten days, I shall be voting to isolate him
wherever he is. And then well see if he can hide from a nuke as well as
he can from a sensor.



The conference dissolved. Western Europe asked North America, Military
Intelligence, and Halo to remain on line. Natural allies in the eternal
warzone of B7s internal politics, they obliged. His sensevise overlay
program positioning and dressing them around his drawing room as though
they were weekend guests just come in from a stroll round the grounds.

Itll go against you eventually, Halo warned. Theyre happy for you to
take responsibility for the chase as long as Dexter hasnt caused any
noticeable damage. But the minute he gets noisy, theyll revert.

That little crap artist, South Pacific, North America complained.
Telling me to nuke New York! Who the hell does she think she is?

She always favours the blunt approach, Western Europe said. We all
know that. Thats why I like her so much, makes one feel constantly
superior.

Inferior or not, shell carry the day eventually, Military Intelligence
said.

Western Europe walked over to the tall glass-panelled door, and let his
two Labradors in. I know. Thats why I found today encouraging.

Encouraging? North America asked, astonished. Are you kidding? Ive
got that Dexter bastard running round loose in New York.

Yes, exactly. Something went wrong for him. He was on his knees when he
appeared, and he vanished within seconds. He was glitched. Another factor
in our favour.

Maybe, Halo said. He sounded very dubious.

All right, North America said. So what now?

You need to do two things. In forty minutes, I want you to close down
all New Yorks vac-trains.

Forty minutes? Hell be long gone.

Yes. As I said, he knows we know hes here. We have to play along with
that, but make him think were lumbering along five steps behind him. So
close the vac-trains. He wont be in New York, so it doesnt matter.

You hope.

I know. Once hed been exposed there he had no option but to leave. New
York is closed to him now, out of the equation. To do whatever he wants
to do, he has to maintain his mobility. He probably took the shortest
ride out there is, figuring the police would close down the vac-trains
pretty fast; but thats beside the point.

Okay. How long do you want them shut down for?

Thats the second thing. We have to work on the assumption he was
leaving. Therefore, hes more than likely left a group of possessed
behind him. You have to find them, and eliminate them. Keep the arcology
sealed up until you do. In fact, keeping the individual domes isolated
might be a good idea if you can manage it.

You really think thats what hes doing?

Yes. He wants to inflict maximum devastation on this planet. Hell seed
as many arcologies as possible with his followers. And when he gives the
word, theyll hit the streets, and well be faced with the exponential
curve again.

The AI is monitoring the arcologys electronics anyway.

Yes. Im sure thats effective on Kulu and other modern worlds; but you
and I know it can never access everything, not here, not in the old
areas. Theres over five hundred years worth of electronic junk plugged
together out there; were dealing with millions of old systems, quirky
one-offs, and non-standard patch ups. The AI is a good sentry, but dont
make the mistake of becoming dependent. The best source well have is
probably the sects.

The sects?

Certainly. The one set of idiots wholl support the possessed without
having to be forced. Dexter knows that, theyre the ones hell go to.

All right, Ill get on to it.

So what are you going to be doing? Halo asked Western Europe.

Same as before. Engineer an encounter. We have to get our people close
to him while hes visible, and therefore vulnerable.

Vulnerable to what?

If hes out in the open, an SD strike. Or if our contact is through an
agent, we can try for electrocution or a memory scramble.

Memory scramble?

Yes, said Military Intelligence. The CNIS believes they can kill souls
by firing some kind of mentallic virus at the possessed. Its the
opposite of a didactic imprint. Theyre researching it now.

Western Europe started making a fuss of one of the dogs, scratching its
belly as it rolled around on the carpet. Do try and stay up to date, he
chided Halo.

It wont be available before the end of the week, Military Intelligence
warned.

I know. I doubt Ill manage to arrange an interception by then anyway.

Hows that angle coming along? Halo asked.

The Banneth connection is just about covered. Im not sure about the
Kavanagh girls; theyre a long shot, and a pretty random one at that. But
Im working on it.



Louise spent an hour using the rooms desktop processor block and got
nowhere. The directory provided her with enough entries under Banneth
(173,364once shed removed the deceased), but no matter how she tried to
cross reference that with Quinn Dexter the result was always negative.
She racked her brains to remember everything Dexter had said back in the
hangar at Bennett Field. Banneth was female, she remembered that for
certain. And Dexter said shed hurt him. That was about it, really.

Somewhere, somehow, those facts should link up. She was sure they did.
But finding the connection was beyond her woeful programming ability. The
idea that had begun back when they got in the taxi was becoming more and
more attractive. If she dared.

Why not? she thought. Theres nothing dangerous about neural nanonics,
not physically, the rest of the Confederation uses them. Joshua has a
set. Its only Norfolk which doesnt allow them. She raised her arm, and
looked at the discreet medical nanonic package bracelet. Also banned on
Norfolk, yet it was helping her pregnancy. That settled it. She grinned,
emboldened by her decision. I have to take responsibility for myself now.
If I need neural nanonics to help me on Earth, then I will get myself a
set.

They hadnt left the room since arriving at the hotel. Lunch had been a
snack delivered by room service. Genevieve had flopped on her bed in
weary disgust at the inactivity, and activated her own block. She was
smothered by a laser-haze of grid lines and feisty fantasy beasts which
leapt about enthusiastically at every excitable shouted command.

Gen?

The projection shrank. Genevieve blinked up at her, trying to focus.
Louise was sure that being immersed in the projection so much was bad for
her little sisters eyesight.

What?

Were going out. I cant get the hang of the desktop block, so Im going
to buy some neural nanonics instead. There, shed said it out loud.
Thered be no backing down now.

Genevieve stared at her in astonishment. Oh Louise, dont tease so.
Were not allowed.

We werent allowed. Were on Earth, now, remember. You can do anything
you want here as long as youve got money.

Genevieve cocked her head to one side. Then the most charming smile
graced her face. It didnt fool Louise for a second. Please, Louise. Can
I have one, too? You know Ill never be allowed once we get home.

Im sorry. Youre not old enough.

I am!

Gen, youre not. And you know youre not.

She stamped her foot, little fists clenched in outrage. Thats not fair!
Its not. Its not. You always pick on me coz Im the youngest. Youre a
bully.

Im not picking on you. You just cant have one, your brain is still
growing. They cant connect it. I checked. Its not legal, and itll do a
lot of damage to your brain cells. I only just scrape in if you measure
my age in Earth years.

I hate being small.

Louise put her arms round the girl, reflecting on how much shed done so
since leaving home. They never used to hug much before. Youll be bigger
one day, she whispered into her sisters fluffed up hair. And things
are going to be different when we get home.

You think so?

Oh yes.



The receptionist seemed rather amused at being asked, in a lofty sort of
way. But she was helpful enough, telling Louise that Oxford Street and
New Bond Street were probably their best bet for clothes, while Tottenham
Court Road was where they would find any conceivable kind of electronics.
The sisters were also assured these areas were safe for girls to walk
through by themselves. And the hotel runs a courtesy collection service
for any items that you purchase. She handed over an authorization disk,
keyed to Louises biolectric pattern.

Louise loaded a comprehensive street map into her block, taken from the
hotels memory; and combined it with the guidance program. Ready? she
asked Gen. Lets go spend the family fortune.

Aubry Earle had spoken the truth on the lift capsule when he told them
arcology dwellers would always respect their privacy. Out on the street,
Louise couldnt quite work out how people always slid to one side at the
last second. She was constantly scanning bodies all round to try and find
a way through the gaps, while locals moved as smoothly as the automated
traffic without ever once glancing in her direction. Some of the
pedestrians quite literally glided past. People their own age wearing
calf-high boots with soles that seemed to flow over the pavement slabs
without any resistance. Genevieve watched their effortless progress with
admiration and longing. I want some boots like that, she said.

A subwalk got them under Piccadilly and into New Bond Street. It turned
out to be a dainty little pedestrian lane, lined with enchanting
boutiques whose marble frontage was embossed with brass lettering saying
when theyd been established. None of them were under three centuries
old, while some claimed to be over seven. The labels on show meant
nothing to either of them, but judging by the prices they must have been
admiring the most exclusive designer garments on the planet.

Its gorgeous, Louise sighed longingly at a shimmering scarlet and
turquoise evening gown, sort of like an all-over mermaids tailexcept it
wasnt all-over, nowhere near. It was the kind of thing she would love to
wear at a summer ball on Norfolk. The planet had never seen its like
before.

Then buy it.

No. Weve got to be sensible. Just everyday clothes that we need to get
about in the arcology. Remember, one day Ill have to explain the entire
bill to Daddy.

The evening gown was just the start of New Bond Streets provocative
temptations. They trailed past window displays she could have bought en
masse.

Well have to have supper in the hotel dining room, Genevieve suggested
artfully. I bet they wont let us in unless we dress up.

It was an insidious suggestion. Okay. One dress. Thats all.

They dashed across the threshold of the boutique in front of them.
Privacy didnt apply inside the shop; three assistants swooped eagerly.
Louise explained what they wanted, and then spent the next forty-five
minutes ricocheting in and out of a changing room. She and Gen would look
at each other, comment, and go back for the next trial.

She learned a lot in the process. The assistants were very complimentary
about the sisters hair. Except . . . on Earth, it was fashionable to
have actives woven among the strands. Their one-piece suits with big
pockets, were current, but not that  la mode. Yes, Oxford Street stores
were perfect for buying streetfashion clothes, and we recommend these.
Louise could have sworn she heard the blocks memory creaking under the
load of names they entered. She used her Jovian Bank credit disk with
only a momentary twinge of guilt.

Out on the street again, they laughed at each other. Gen had wound up
with a scarlet dress and deep-purple jacket. While Louise had bought
herself a full length gown of deepest blue, that was made from a material
crossed between velvet and suede. There was also a short ginger-coloured
waistcoat to go with it, which complemented its square cut neck.

Its true, Louise said happily. Retail therapy actually works.

They didnt get directly to Oxford Street. There was a stop at a salon at
the top of New Bond Street first. The beauticians made an incredible fuss
over them, delighted with so much raw material to work on. The owner
himself came over to direct the operation (once their credit rating had
been verified).

After two hours, several cups of tea, and enthralling the staff with an
edited version of their travels, Louise had the wrap taken off. She
stared in the mirror, not believing shed spent her life tolerating
unmanaged hair. Norfolks simplistic regime of washing, conditioners, and
sturdy brushing was barbaric ineptitude. Under the salons professional
auspices her hair had become lustrous, individual strands conducting a
little starlight shimmer of light along their length. And it flowed.
Every day of her life shed held that thick mane in place with clips and
ribbons, sometimes getting the maid to braid fanciful bands. Flexitives
made all that irrelevant. Of its own accord, her hair fell back over her
shoulders, always keeping itself tidy and together in one large tress. It
also rippled subtly, as if she was engulfed in her own permanent private
breeze.

You look beautiful, Louise, Genevieve said, suddenly shy.

Thank you. Gens hair had been straightened, darkened, and glossed, its
hem curling inwards slightly. Again, it held its shape no matter what.

Stalls were lined up against the road barriers, filled with brassy,
cheaper items than those in the shops. Genevieve saw one with pairs of
the magical boots hanging from the awning. Slipstream boots, the cheerful
owner told her as he found some her size. Popular with the under fifteens
because you didnt need neural nanonics to switch the directed
frictionless soles on or off.

Louise bought them on the condition Gen waited until they got back to the
hotel before she tried them out. She also got a duster bracelet. When Gen
clamped the trinket round her wrist and waved it round, it sprayed out a
fine powder which emitted a fiery sparkle as it fell to earth. Holding
her arm up and pirouetting, a spiral of twinkling starlight spun around
her.



Quinn sat on one of the benches along the banks of the Seine, opening his
mind to the demented screeching rever-berating through the beyond. It had
taken him two and a half hours to reach the Paris arcology since being
struck by that inexplicable wave of emotional torment that had swept
through the beyond.

The first thingobviously!was to get the fuck out of New York. It
wouldnt take the cops long to review the memories of sensors covering
the concourse and identify him. Hed gone straight down to a platform and
taken a vac-train to Washington. A short ride, not quite fifteen minutes.
Hed kept within the ghost realm for the whole trip, apprehensive that
the vac-train would be halted and returned to New York. But it arrived at
Washington on time, and he switched to the first inter-continental ride
available: Paris.

Even then, hed remained invisible as it streaked along the bottom of the
North Atlantic. Still anxious that another of those waves would surge up
and expose him. If it had done during the journey under the ocean, he
knew hed be finished. He couldnt believe Gods Brother would allow that
to happen. But the first time was causing all sorts of doubts.

It wasnt until he was out of the Paris terminus and walking through one
of the old citys parks that he had allowed himself to fully emerge. He
clothed himself in an ordinary shirt and trousers, hating the way his
white skin tingled in the bright sun shining through the colossal crystal
dome. But it meant he was safe, there were no processors in the middle of
the park to glitch at his appearance, nobody near enough to see that hed
appeared from nowhere rather than walked round the ancient tree. He stood
there for a minute, scanning the nearby minds for any sign of alarm. Only
then did he relax and make his way down to the river.

Parisians strolled along behind him as they had for centurieslovers,
artists, business executives, bureaucrats; none of them paying attention
to the solitary downcast youth. Nor did any of them avail themselves to
the space left on his bench. Some subliminal warning steered them along
past, frowning slightly at the unaccountable chill.

Slowly, Quinn started to gather the strands together, faint images and
hoarse wailing voices filling in the story. He saw clouds which surprised
even him, an arcology-born. Rain cascaded down on huddled bodies, so
thick it was almost solid. Terrifying blasts of lightning ripping through
the darkness. The encircling forces, radiating their stern nonhuman
determination, closing in.

Mortonridge was not a place where a possessed should be caught outside
today; and two million of them had been. Something had struck at them,
tearing away their protective covering of cloud. Some technological
devilry. The signal for the Liberation to commence. A one-off; a unique
act in response to a unique situation. Not some miracle wrought by the
Light Bringers great rival.

Quinn lifted his head, and smiled a contemptuous smile. Such a shock was
extremely unlikely to occur again. There was no unknown threat. He was
perfectly safe. Night could still dawn.

He stood up, and turned slowly, examining his surroundings properly for
the first time. The celebrated Napoleonic heart of the city was
encompassed by a range of splendid white, silver, and gold towers. Their
burnished surfaces hurt his eyes, as their grandeur hurt his sensibility.
But somewhere among all this cleanliness and vitality, the waster kids
would be grubbing through dank refuse, hurting each other and unwary
civilians for no reason they understood. Finding them would be as easy
here as it had been in New York. Just walk in the direction everyone else
was coming from. His heartland, where his words would bring its denizens
purpose.

He completed his turn. Right ahead of him the Eiffel Tower stood guard at
the end of a broad immaculate park, with sightseers wandering round its
base. Even in Edmonton, Quinn had heard of this structure. A proud symbol
of Gallic forbearance through all the centuries of Govcentrals pallid
uniformity. Its very endurance reflecting the strengths and determination
of the people who regarded it as their own. Precious to the world. And
now, so terribly fragile with age.

Quinn started to chuckle greedily.



Andy Behoo fell in love. It was instantaneous. She walked in through the
door of Judes Eworld, kicking off a cascade of datavised alarms, and he
was utterly smitten.

Terminal babe. Taller than him by a good ten centimetres, with the most
gorgeous cloak of hair. A face with soft features so delicate as to be
way beyond anything cosmetic adapter packages could achievea natural
beauty. She wore a white sleeveless T-shirt that showed off a hot figure
without revealing anything, and a scarlet skirt that didnt reach her
knees. But it was the way she carried herself that clinched it for him.
Perfectly composed, yet she still looked round the shop with child-like
curiosity.

The rest of the staff were all giving her clandestine glances as the
doorway scanners datavised their findings. Then the smaller girl entered
behind her, and the scanners gave out an almost duplicate alert. How
weird. They couldnt possibly be a cop grab operation, too obvious.
Besides, the manager was pretty regular when it came to slipping the
shops bung to the district station.

Andy told the customer he was dealing with, Look it over, and have a
think about it, you wont find a better deal in London, then left them
to scoot over to the girl before any of his so-called colleagues could
reach her. If the floor manager had seen, hed probably lose his job.
Abandoning a customer before the sale is sealedcapital crime.

Hi, Im Andy. Im your sellrat. Anything you want, its my job to push
the more expensive model on you. He grinned broadly.

Youre my what? Louise asked. Her expression was half puzzlement, half
smile.

Her accent did strange things along Andys spine, making him shiver. The
ultimate in class, and foreign-exotic, too. He scanned his enhanced
retinas across her face, desperate to capture her image. Even if she
walked out of his life now, she would never be entirely lost. Andy had
certain male-orientated software packages that could superimpose her into
sensenviron recordings. He felt shabby even as he recorded her.

Sellrat. Thats what the public calls Customer Interactivity Officers
round these parts.

Oh, the smaller girl sighed dismissively. Hes just a shopboy, Louise.

Andys neural nanonics had to reinforce his smile. Why do they always
come in pairs? And why always one obnoxious one? He clicked his fingers
and pointed both index fingers at the smaller girl. Thats me. Try not
to be too disappointed, I really am here to help.

Id like to buy some neural nanonics, Louise said. Is it very
difficult?

The request startled Andy. Her clothes alone must have cost more than
twice his weekly pay, why didnt she have a set already? Beautiful and
enigmatic. He smiled up at her. Not at all. What were you looking for?

She sucked her lower lip. Im really not very sure. The best I can
afford, I suppose.

We dont have them on Norfolk, Genevieve said. Thats where were
from.

Louise tried not to frown. Gen, we dont have to give our history to
everyone we meet.

Rich foreigners. Andys conscience struggled against temptation.
Conscience won out, backed up by infatuation. I cant sell her a pirate
set. Not her. Okay, your lucky day. Weve got some top-of-the-range sets
in stock. I can fix a reasonable deal for them, too, so theres no need
to get sweaty about the money. This way.

He led them over to his section of the counter, managing to get her name
on the way. His neural nanonics faithfully recorded the way she walked,
her body movements, even her speech pattern. Like most nineteen-year-olds
whod grown up in Londons manky Islington district with its history of
low-income employment, Andy Behoo fancied himself as a prospective net
don. It combined the goal of fringe-legal work (also his heritage), with
very little actual effort. Hed taken didactic memory courses on
electronics, nanonics, and software every month since hed passed his
fourteenth birthday. His two-room flat was stocked to the ceiling with
ancient processor blocks and every redundant peripheral hed managed to
scrounge or steal. Everyone in his tenement knew Andy was the guy to
visit when you had a technical problem.

As to why such an embryonic datasmart prince of darkness was working as a
sellrat in Judes Eworld, he had to get the money to finance his
revolutionary schemes from somewhereor maybe even go to college. And the
shop always employed technerd teenagers as their outfront salesforce,
they were the only ones who kept up to date on upgrades and new marques
that would work on minimum-wage weeks.

The wall behind the counter was made up entirely from boxes of consumer
electronics. All of them had colourful logos and names. Louise read a few
of the contents labels, not understanding a word. Genevieve was already
bored; looking round at other parts of the slightly shabby shopone of
seemingly hundreds of near-identical outlets along Tottenham Court Road.
The inside was a maze formed by counters and walls of boxes, with old
company posters and holomorph stickers stuck up on every available
surface. Holographic screens flashed out enticing pictures of products in
action. The section opposite Andy Behoo had a big GAMES sign above it.
And Louise had promised.

Andy began pulling boxes down and lining them up on the counter. They
were rectangular, the size of his hand, wrapped in translucent foil, with
the manufacturers guarantee seal on the front. Okay, Andy said with
familiar confidence. What we have here, the Presson050, is a basic
neural nanonics set. Everything you need to survive daily arcology life:
datavises, mid-rez neuroiconic display, enhanced memory retrieval, axon
block. Its preformatted to NAS2600 standard, which means it can handle
just about every software package on the market. Theres a
company-supplied didactic operations imprint that comes with it, but we
do sell alternative operations courses.

That sounds very . . . comprehensive, Louise said. How much?

How are you paying?

Fuseodollars. She showed him her Jovian Bank disk.

Okay. Good move. I can give you a favourable rate on that. So, were
looking at about three and a half thousand, for which well throw in five
free Quantumsoft supplement packages from their BCD30 range. Your choice
of functions. I can arrange finance for you if you want, better
percentage than any Sol-system bank.

I see.

Then weve got His hand moved on to the next box.

Andy. Whats the top of the range, please?

Okay, good question. He disappeared behind the counter for a moment,
returning with a fresh box and a suitably awed tone. Kulu Corporation
ANI5000. The King himself uses this model. Weve only got three left
because of the starflight quarantine. These are most wanted items all
over town right now. But I can still give you level retail.

And thats better than the first one?

Yes indeedie. Runs NAS2600, of course, with parallel upgrade potential
for when the 2615 comes out.

Um. Whats this NAS number you keep saying?

Neural Augmentation Software. Its the operating system for the whole
filament network, and the number is the version. 2600 was introduced turn
of the century, and boy was it a bugfeist when it came out. But its a
smooth proved system now. And the supplement packages are just about
unlimited, every software house in the Confederation publishes compatible
products. If youre going serious professional you can add physiological
monitors, encyclopaedia galactica, employment waldoing, SII suit control,
weapons integration, linguistic translation, news informant, starship
astrogration, net searchthe full monty. Then theres games applications
as well, I cant even list them you have so many. He patted the box with
reverence. No fooling, Louise, this set gives you the full interface
range: nerve overrides to control your body, sense amplification,
sight-equivalent neuroiconic generation, complete reality sensenviron,
implant command, total indexed memory recall.

Ill take it.

Got to warn you: not cheap. Seventeen thousand fuseodollars. He held up
his hands in placation. Sorry.

Daddy will kill me, Louise thought, but it has to be done. I promised
Fletcher, and that horrid Brent Roi never really believed me. All right.

Andy smiled in admiration. Talk about power choosing. Thats impressive,
Louise. But, hey, I can lighten the burden. For a 5000 set, well throw
in twenty-five software supplements, and give you twenty per cent
discount on the next twenty-five you buy from us.

That sounds like a jolly good deal, she said inanely, swept along by
his enthusiasm. How long does it take to get a set?

For one this complex, ninety minutes. I can give you the operating
didactic at the same time.

Whats one of those?

Andys breezy ebullience faltered in the face of such an astonishing
question. He started to access his encyclopaedias file on Norfolk, and
put a news search in primary mode for good measure. You dont have them
on your planet?

No. Our constitution is pastoral, we dont have much technology. Or
weapons. Defending Norfolk, yet again.

No weapons; hey, good policy. Didactic imprints are sort of like the
instruction manual, but it gets written directly inside your brain, and
you never forget it.

Well if Im going to spend this much money, I certainly need to know how
to work it, dont I?

Andy laughed heartily, then stopped quickly when he caught sight of
Genevieves expression. How come nobody ever produced a suavity program
he could load? Talking to and impressing girls would be so much easier.
The floor supervisor was datavising questions about his oddball customer
and the door sensor alert, which he answered briefly. Then the Norfolk
information started to emerge.

We have a preparation room, Andy gestured to the back of the shop.

Louise, I want to look round, Genevieve said winningly. There might be
something for me.

All right. But if you see something just ask, dont touch anything.
Thats all right, isnt it? she asked Andy.

Sure thing. Andy winked at Genevieve and gave her a thumbs up. Her
sneer could have withered an oak tree.

Louise followed Andy into the small preparation room, a cube-space whose
walls were fashioned from dark panelling, with various electronic units
poking out. It was furnished with just a glass cubicle, like a shower but
without any visible nozzle; and a low padded bench similar to a doctors
examination table.

The attention Andy showed her was somewhat amusing. She thought possibly
it wasnt entirely due to her high-spending customer status. Most of the
young gentlemen (and othersslightly older) on Norfolk had shown a
similar, if less blatant, interest over the last couple of years. Now, of
course, she was wearing what amounted to little more than an
exhibitionists costume. Though by Earths standards it was tame. But the
top and skirt had made her look so damn good in the department stores
mirror. She could hold her own against London girls in this. For the
first time in her life she was sassy. And free to enjoy it. And loving it.

The glass door slid shut with a definitive click behind her. She shot
Andy a suspicious glance.



Bugger, Western Europe muttered as his linkages with Louise were cut.
He switched to Genevieve, which was about as useless; the little girl was
investigating a Gothic fantasy, standing in a castle courtyard as a
column of priestess warriors rode off to battle on their unicorns.

Western Europe had wanted Louise to discover the bugs at some stage. He
just hadnt planned on it being quite so early in the operation. But
then, buying neural nanonics wasnt what he expected of a girl from
Norfolk, either. She was quite a remarkable little thing, really.



Andy Behoo scratched at his arm awkwardly. You do know youve been
stung, dont you? he asked.

Stung? Louise took a guess. Youre not talking about insects, are you?

No. The door sensors spotted it as soon as you and your sister came in.
There are nanonic bugs in your skin; like miniature radios I guess youd
call them. They transmit all sorts of information about where you are,
and whats going on around you. There are four on you, Genevieve has
three. That we can detect, anyway.

She drew in a shocked breath. How stupid! Of course Brent Roi wouldnt
let her walk round freely. Not someone whod tried to sneak a possessed
down to Earth. He was bound to want to see what she did next. Oh sweet
Jesus.

I reckon Govcentral must be nervous about foreigners right now,
especially as you come from Norfolk, Andy said. What with the
possessed, and all. Dont worry, this room is screened, they cant hear
us now.

His sellrat swagger had diminished as he tried to reassure her. In fact,
hed become almost sheepish, which made him actually quite pleasant, she
thought. Thank you for telling me, Andy. Do you scan all your customers?

Oh yes. Mainly for dodgy implants. Theres quite a few gangs try to
siphon our software fleks. Then we do sell bugs ourselves, see, so
sometimes we get cops coming in and trying to find who those customers
are. Judes Eworld has a strong neutrality policy, which we enforce. We
have to, or wed never sell anything.

Can you get them off me?

All part of our customer service. I can give you a more detailed scan,
too, see if there are any others.

She followed his instructions, standing in the cubicle, which gave her a
comprehensive bodyscan down to a subcellular level. So now someone else
knows Im pregnant, she acknowledged in resignation. No wonder Earths
population value their privacy so, they dont get very much of it. The
bodyscan located another two bugs. Andy applied a small rectangular patch
similar to a medical package (same technology, he said) to her arms and
leg; then she pulled up her T-shirt up so he could press it against her
back.

Is there any way of knowing if the police sting me again? she asked.

An electronic warfare block should tell you. We had a shipment of
front-line equipment in from Valisk a couple of months back. I think
theres still some left. Good stuff.

I think youd better put one of those removal patches on the list as
well. Louise called Genevieve into the room, and explained whatd
happened. Thankfully her sister was more curious than outraged. She
peered at her skin after Andy took the nanonic package away, fascinated
by the removal process. It doesnt look any different, she complained.

Theyre too small to see, Andy said. Which makes them too small to
feel. They shouldnt call it getting stung, really. More like being
feathered.

When Genevieve scooted back into the shop to continue her appraisal of
consumer goodies, Andy handed over the box of Kulu Corporation neural
nanonics to Louise. You need to check the seal, he said. Make sure it
hasnt been broken, and see that the wrapping hasnt been tampered with
as well. You can tell that by the colour. If someone tries to cut or tear
it, the stress turns it red.

She turned it over obediently. Why do I have to do this?

Neural nanonics connect directly into your brain, Louise. If someone
changes the filaments or subverts the NAS codes they could get into your
memories or manipulate your body like a puppet. This guarantees the set
hasnt been tampered with since it left the factory; and you have the
Kulu Corporations assurance that their design wouldnt sequestrate you.

Louise gave the box a closer examination. The foil seemed intact and
clear.

Sorry, didnt mean to scare you, he said quickly. Its a standard
speech; we implant fifty of these a day. I mean, think what would happen
to the shop or the manufacturer if anything like that did ever happen.
Wed be lynched. Its in our interest to make sure everythings kosher
for you. Another reason we have sensors at the door.

Okay, I suppose. She handed the box back. Andy broke the seal in front
of her, and took out a small black capsule a couple of centimetres long.
He slotted that into the back of a specialist medical implant package.
The only other item in the box was a flek.

This is the operating didactic, which is standard, but it also contains
the first time access code specific to this set, he told her.
Basically, it allows you to activate the neural nanonics. After that,
you change the code by just thinking of a new one. So even if someone got
hold of your flek afterwards it wouldnt do them any good. Dont worry,
its all explained in the didactic.

She lay face down on the cushioned bench, with a pair of collar wings
holding her neck steady. Andy pushed her hair to one side, ready to apply
the medical package to the nape of her neck. There was already a tiny
nearly-healed scar on her skin. He knew exactly what it was, hed seen it
a thousand times before, every time the implant package was taken off.

Is everything all right? Louise asked.

Yes. No problem. It just takes a minute to line this up right. He
datavised the bodyscan cubicles processor. Its memory file of her scan
confirmed there was absolutely no foreign matter in her brain.

Andy took the cowards way out and said nothing. Mainly because he didnt
want to alarm her. But something here was desperately wrong. Either she
was lying to him, which he couldnt believe. Or . . . he couldnt quite
decide what the other options were. He was trespassing deep in Govcentral
territory. All that did was enhance her mystery up to the level of pure
enchantment. A babe in distress right out of the sensevise dramas. In his
shop!

Here we go, he said lightly, and put the package over her existing
scar. Now there would never be any proof.

Louise tensed slightly. Its gone numb.

Thats okay. Its supposed to.

All the medical package did was open a passage through to the base of the
skull, and ease the capsule containing the densely pleated neural
nanonics into place. Then the filaments began to unwind from each other
and porrect forward, their probing tips slowly winding their way round
cells as they sought out synapses. There were millions of them, active
molecular strings obeying their AI formatted protocol; instructions
determined by their own structure of spiralling atoms. They formed a
wondrously intricate filigree around the medulla oblongata, branching to
connect with the nerve strands inside while the main filaments seeped
further into the brain to complete their interface.

With the implant package in place, Andy fetched the didactic imprinter.
Louise thought it looked like a pair of burnished stainless steel ski
glasses. He put the flek in a small slot at the side, and placed it
carefully on her face. This works in pulses, he said. Youll get a
warning flash of green, then youll see a violet light for about fifteen
seconds. Try not to blink. It should happen eight times.

Thats it? The edges of the imprinter had stuck to her skin, leaving
her in total blackness.

Yep, not so bad, is it?

And this is the way everyone on Earth learns things?

Yes. The information is encoded within the light, and your optic nerve
passes it straight into your brain. Simple explanation, but thats the
principle.

Louise saw a flicker of green, and held her breath. The violet light came
on, an otherwise uniform sheen broken by that unique monotone sparkle
which a laser leaves on the retina. She managed not to blink until it
went off. Your children dont go to school? she asked.

No. Kids go to day clubs, keeps them busy and you make friends there.
Thats all.

She was silent for some time, considering the implications. The
hoursyears!of my life I have sat in classrooms listening to teachers
and reading books. And all the time, this way of learning, of discovery,
existed. One of the demonic technologies that will ruin our way of life.
Banned without question. Thats nothing to do with keeping Norfolk
pastoral, thats denying people opportunity, stunting their lives. Its
worse than cousin Gideons arm. She clenched her teeth together, suddenly
very, very angry.

Hey, are you all right? Andy asked timidly.

The violet light came on again. Yes, she snapped primly. Im fine,
thank you.

Andy didnt say anything else until the didactic imprinter finished. Too
scared hed say the wrong thing again and annoy her further. He hadnt
got a clue why her mood had swung so fast. When the imprinter did come
off, it revealed a very pensive expression.

Could you do me a favour? Louise said. A knowing smile licked along her
lips. Keep an eye on Genevieve for me. I promised Id buy her something
from here, so if you could steer her to some kind of gadget thats
relatively harmless Id be grateful.

Sure, my pleasure. Consider her guarded from any possible digital
grief. Andy had to use a nerve override impulse to prevent her from
seeing how crushing that request was. Hed been counting on using the
time it took to implant the neural nanonics to talk to her. Yet again,
Andy blows out, he raged silently. Just once, Id like to score with a
major babe. Once!

The games section wasnt nearly as exciting as Genevieve had expected.
Judes Eworld was actively promoting a thousand games through its display
screen catalogues, with direct access to ten times that many over
encrypted links to publishers; covering the whole genre from interactive
roles to strategy generals command. But as she flipped through them she
could see they were all variants of each other. Everybody promised newer,
hotter graphics, unrivalled worldbuilding, tac-stim activants, ingenious
puzzles, more terrifying adversaries, slicker music. Always greater than
before, never different. She sampled four or five, standing inside a
projection cone beamed out from a high-wattage AV lens on the ceiling.
Bore-ing. In truth, shed begun to tire of them back on the Jamrana; like
spending a whole day eating chocolate cake, really.

There didnt seem to be much else in Judes Eworld that was interesting.
Their main market was neural nanonics and associated software, or else
no-fun processor blocks with strange peripherals.

Hi. Hows it going, there? Are you hyping cool yet?

Genevieve turned to see the gruesomely oiky little shopboy Andy smiling
ingratiatingly at her. One of his front teeth was crooked. Shed never
seen that on someone his age before. Im having a lovely time, thank you
so much for caring. It was the tone that would earn her a sharp slap
from her mother or Mrs Charlsworth.

Uh huh. Andy grunted, fully flustered. Er, I thought perhaps I could
show you what weve got to offer for kids your . . . I mean, the kind of
blocks and software you might enjoy.

Oh whoopee do.

His arms re-arranged themselves chaotically, indicating the section of
the shop he wanted her to move towards. Please? he asked desperately.

With an overlong sigh and slouched shoulders, Genevieve shuffled along
despondently. Why does Louise always attract the wrong type? she
wondered. Which sparked an idea. Shes got a fianc, you know.

Huh?

A modest smile at his horror. Louise. Shes engaged to be married. They
announced the banns at our estates chapel.

Married? Andy yelped. He flinched, looking round the shop to see if any
of his colleagues were paying attention.

This was fun. Yes. To a starship captain. Thats why were on Earth,
were waiting for him to arrive.

Whens he due, do you know?

A couple of weeks, I think. Hes very rich, he owns his starship. She
glanced round in suspicion, then leaned in towards the boy. Dont tell
anyone I said this, but I think the only reason Daddy gave his permission
was because of the money. Our estate is very big, and it takes a lot to
keep it running.

Shes marrying for money?

Has to be. I mean hes so old. Louise said hes thirty years older than
she is. I think she was fibbing so it didnt sound so bad. If you ask me,
its more like forty-five.

Oh my God. Thats disgusting.

It looks so awful when he kisses her, I mean hes virtually bald, and
hideously fat. She says she hates him to touch her, but what can she do
about it? Hes her future husband.

Andy stared down at her, his face stricken. Why does your father allow
this?

All marriages are arranged on Norfolk, its just our way. If it makes
you feel any better, I think he really likes Louise. Shed have to stop
now. Crying shame, but it was getting really difficult to keep a straight
face. He keeps on saying he wants to have a big family with her. He says
he expects her to bear him at least seven children. Jackpot! Andy had
started trembling with indignationor worse.

Her day made, Genevieve gently took his hand in hers, and smiled up
trustfully. Can we see the hyper cool electronics now, please?



Understanding arrived within Louises mind like a solstice sunrise.
Quietly irresistible, bringing with it a fresh perspective on the world.
A new season of life begun.

She knew precisely how to utilise the augmented mentality opening up
within her brain as the filaments connected with her neurones,
controlling the expanded potential with an instinct that could have been
a genetic heritage it was so deep seated. Audio discrimination, analysing
the murmur of sounds resonating through the door from the shop. Visual
memory indexing, saving and storing what she saw. Pattern analysis. A
test datavise, requesting an update from the medical package on her
wrist. And the neuroiconic display, sight without eyes, moulding raw data
into colour. It left her giddy and sweating from excitement. The sense of
achievement was extraordinary.

Im equal to everybody else now. Or I will be when Ive learned how to
use all the applications properly.

She datavised the implant package on her neck for a status check. A
procedural menu sprang up inside her skull, and she ran a comparison. It
confirmed the implantation process was complete. She instructed the
package to disengage, withdrawing the empty capsule from which the
filaments had sprouted, and knitting the cells together behind it.

Steady on, Andy said. Thats supposed to be my job.

Louise grinned at him as she climbed off the bench, and stretched
extravagantly, flexing the stiffness out of limbs held still for too
long. Oh, come on, she teased. All your clients must do that. Its the
first taste of freedom we get. Having neural nanonics must be like being
allowed to vote, youve become a full member of society. Arent they
wonderful gadgets?

Um. Yeah. He got her to lean forwards, and peeled the implant package
from her neck. You can actually become a full citizen, you know. The
strangely hopeful tone earned him an inquisitive look.

What do you mean?

You could apply for residential citizenship. If you wanted. I checked
the Govcentral legal memory core. Its no problem; you just need a
Govcentral citizen to sponsor you, and a hundred fuseodollars fee. You
can datavise them for an application. Ive got the eddress.

Thats um . . . very kind, Andy. But I dont really plan on staying here
for long. She smiled, trying to let him down gently. I have a fianc,
you see. Hes going to come and take me away.

But Norfolk laws wouldnt apply to you, Andy blurted desperately. Not
here. Not if youre an Earth citizen. Youd be safe.

Im sure I am anyway. Thank you. She smiled again, slightly more firm
this time; and slipped past him out into the shop.

Louise! I want this, Genevieve shrieked. The little girl was standing
in the middle of the shop, arms held rigid at her side as she turned
round and round. There was a small block clipped onto her belt with
DEMONSTRATOR printed in blue on its top. Louise hadnt seen her smile
like that in a long time.

What have you got, Gen?

I gave her a pair of realview lenses to try, Andy said quietly. Like
contact lenses, but they receive a datavise from the block which overlays
a fantasyscape on what youre seeing. He datavised a code to her.
Thatll let you view direct from the block.

Louise datavised the code, marvelling at how smoothly she did it, and
closed her eyes. The world started to spin around her. A very strange
world. It had the same dimensions as the inside of Judes Eworld, but
this was a cave of onyx, where every surface corresponded to walls and
counters, fat stalagmites had replaced the flek sale bins. People had
become hulking black and chrome cyborgs, whose limbs were clusters of
yellow pistons.

Isnt it fabulous? Gen whooped. It changes whatever you look at.

Yes, Gen, its good. She saw the mouth on one of the cyborgs clank
apart to speak her own words, and smiled. The cyborgs mouth froze open.
Louise cancelled her reception from the realview block.

You can get about fifty different imagery programs for it, Andy said.
This ones Metalpunk Wasteland. Quite popular. Theres an audioplug
peripheral to change the voices.

Please, Louise! This one.

All right, all right.

Andy datavised an off code to the demonstrator block. Genevieve pouted as
the cave melted back into the shop. Andy started piling boxes and small
flek cases up on the counter. What supplements do you want? he asked.

Louise consulted the market menu already included in the NAS2600. News
hound, global eddress directory search, people tracker . . . um the
pregnancy supplement for my physiological monitor, universal message
script. I think thats it.

Youre entitled to another twenty.

I know. Do I have to collect them all today? Im not really sure what
else Ill need.

Take as much time as you need to choose, and drop in whenever you want.
But Id recommend netA, thatll give you your own eddress, youve got to
pay an annual fee to the link company, but nobody will be able to contact
you without one. Oh, and streetnav, too, if youre going to stay in
Londonshows you the short cuts and how to use public transport.

Okay, fine, put them on. More flek cases began to appear on the
counter. And that electronic warfare block we talked about.

Sure thing.

When he slapped it down, it didnt look much different to her ordinary
processor block, same anonymous oblong of dark grey plastic.

Who buys bugs and things like that from you? she asked.

Could be anyone. Girl wanting to find out if her boyfriends cheating on
her. Manager who needs to know which of his staff are ripping him off.
Voyeur perverts. Mostly, though, its private detectives. Regular spooks
convention at times, this place.

Louise didnt approve of that notion that just anybody could come along
and spy on their friends and enemies. There ought to be some restrictions
on who could buy such items. But then regulation was one thing Earth
didnt seem to have much of.

Andy handed over the shops accounts block with an apologetic smile.
Louise tried not to shiver as she transferred the money over from her
Jovian Bank disk. She gave the realview block and a packet of disposable
lenses to Genevieve, who promptly tore the wrapping off with a gleeful,
Yesss.

Ill see you when you come back for the rest of your software? Andy
asked. And if you change your mind about . . . the other thing, Ill be
happy to sponsor your application. Im entitled to do that. Im an adult
citizen.

Right, she said gingerly. There was something very odd about the way
hed latched onto the idea. She was debating whether to quiz him further
when she caught the glint of devilment in Gens eye. The little girl spun
round quickly. Youve been very kind, Andy, Louise said. Please dont
worry about me. She leant over the counter and gave him a light kiss.
Thanks.

Genevieve was already making for the door, giggling wildly. Louise
snatched up the carrier bag full of fleks, and chased after her.



Louise lay back on her bed as the brilliant sun finally sank away below
Green Park. Genevieve was sleeping on the bed next to her, exhausted by
the very long day.

Terrible child, Louise thought fondly. I must make sure she gets a set of
neural nanonics when she turns sixteen. She closed her own eyes and put
the news hound program into primary mode. The rooms net processor
acknowledged her datavise, and she began asking for general items on the
possessed. That was when she had her crash course on using news hounds
filter program accessories and designating more refined search
parameters. It took an hour, but she was eventually able to slot the
myriad events reported by Earths news agencies into an overall picture.
The arrival of the Mounts Delta was a weird one. The way its crewman had
been shredded hinted strongly at Quinn Dexter to her mind.

New Yorks abrupt isolation was the principal current topic for the
agencies, in fact it was just about their only topic. Govcentrals North
American Commissioner appeared before the reporters to assure everyone
that it was just a precaution, and they were investigating a
possessed-type incident in Dome One as a matter of procedure. No
schedule was given for opening the vac-trains. Police squads, reinforced
with riot-control mechanoids, were out in force on the streets as the
arcology residents became highly restless.

Then there was the event which caused Louise to jerk upright on the bed,
opening her eyes wide in surprise and delight. Tranquillitys arrival at
Jupiter. Joshua was here! In this star system.

She sank back onto the pillows, shaking with excitement. The universal
message script was hurriedly brought into primary mode. She composed a
file for him which she really hoped didnt sound too desperate and
pathetic, and datavised it triumphantly into the communication net. Her
neural nanonics told her that Jupiter was five hundred and fifty million
miles away, so the signal would take about forty minutes to reach it. She
might have a reply within two hours!



Western Europe, who was monitoring her net connection, instructed the AI
to block the message. The last thing he needed right now was some
dunderhead boyfriend charging to the rescue, especially one as famous as
Lagrange Calvert.


Chapter 09
==========


The party was a good one, though the guy with only one arm was kind of
weird. Liol knew he was staring, and loaded a mild protocol reminder into
his neural nanonics. It was just that hed never seen anything like that
before. Didnt seem to affect the guys balance out on the dance floor,
and the girl he was with obviously didnt mind. Or perhaps she enjoyed
the novelty value. Knowing the girls in this habitat, that was a strong
option. Come to that, maybe the missing arm was an obscure fashion
statement. Not impossible.

Liol headed for the buffet table, picking his way through the crowd. Just
about everyone smiled and said hello as they jostled together. He replied
to most of them, their names familiar now without having to access a
memory file. Plutocrat princes and princesses, with media celebrities
jumbled in for variety. They tended to work hard during the day,
expanding corporate empires, starting new dynasties, never taking their
wealth for granted especially in these times. Tranquillitys change of
location was causing them unique problems in sustaining their traditional
markets, but there were fabulous benefits to be had from being placed in
the Confederations wealthiest star system. Theyd set about exploiting
that as ruthlessly and gleefully as only they could. But nights were
given over to a single giant funtime: parties, restaurants, shows, clubs;
Tranquillity boasted the best of them all in profusion.

He wasnt even sure who his host was. The apartment was as expensively
anonymous as all the others hed been in over the last few days, a
hospitality showcase. Everything selected by designers to demonstrate
their talent and tastebitched over by other designers. Just another
party. No doubt he and Dominique would grace two or three more before the
night was out. The social set hed belonged to in Ayacucho had never been
shy of a good time, and were wealthy enough to indulge themselves. But
compared to this mob, they were jejune provincials.

They were fascinated that he was Joshuas brother. Smiled indulgently
when he told them he had his own business back in Ayacucho. But he could
reveal little about Lady Macs last flight. So conversation tended to dry
up fast after that. He really didnt know much about Confederation
politics, or the money shifts in multistellar markets, or hot
entertainment items (Jezzibella was Capones girloh, come on!); and he
certainly didnt relish discussing the possessed, and how the crisis was
developing.

He took a plate along the long table of canaps, deliberately picking the
more bizarre-looking items. Jupiter was rising across the window behind
the table, so he munched and stared, as overwhelmed by the spectacle as
any hick farmboy. Not quite the reaction of a sophisticated starship
crewman-about-the-galaxy. The aspiration hed cherished for himself since
first hearing Lady Mac was supposedly his rightful inheritance. Now hed
flown in Lady Mac, actually getting to pilot her. Hed seen new star
systems, even fought in an orbital war and (ironically implausible) saved
the Confederationor at least alleviated some of the Navys burden. After
the pinnacle, there was always the journey back down again. He would
never, ever be as good a pilot as Joshua. The manoeuvres his brother had
flown during the Beezling encounter had made that quite obvious. And the
Confederation wasnt such a fun place to roam through any more. Neither
was life, now the beyond waited.

A reflection in the window made him turn. Joshua and Ione were mingling
among the guests. Talking with ease, laughing. A good-looking couple,
Josh in a formal black jacket, her in a flowing green evening dress. He
was about to go over when Joshua led Ione out onto the dance floor.

Yoo hoo. Dominique waved from across the room. People struggled to get
out of the way as she cut a line straight for him. Liol was granted the
knowledge of what it must be like for a planet to face an invading fleet.
Her hand grasped his arm, and she rubbed her nose against his. I missed
you, she murmured with silky reproach.

I was hungry.

Me too. The resentment snapped off, replaced with bountiful mischief.
She plucked one of the canaps from his plate and popped it straight into
her mouth. Eeek. Sungwort seaweed, and they coated it in coriander.

It was interesting, he apologised meekly. She was as adorable as she
was terrifying. By far the most beautiful girl in the room, Dominique
favoured a more natural look than her contemporaries, a gypsy girl among
the glossy mannequins. Her black evening gown was full-length, but that
somehow didnt stop it from displaying a huge quantity of strategic
flesh. Her broad lips curved up into a delighted smile. She dabbed her
finger on his nose. I just love your innocence. A quality of which he
had very little left. Sex with Dominique was narcotic, ruining you with
pleasure.

She held his gaze for a moment, face enraptured by devotion. He wanted to
turn and flee. Someone Id like you to meet, she said neutrally, as if
divining his response. A finger beckoned. There was a slim girl standing
behind her, completely blocked by Dominiques broad, healthy physique.
She had a prim Oriental face with hair several shades fairer than
Dominique. This is Neomone.

Hi, Neomone darted forward and kissed him. Then swayed back, blushing,
looking very pleased with herself.

Hi. He didnt quite know what to make of her. She was in her late
teens, wearing a slinky silk dress that revealed an almost androgynous
figure, all ribcage and stringy muscle. Thrilled and nervous at the same
time, she kept giving Dominique worshipful glances.

Neomone is training to be a ballerina, Dominique purred.

Ive never been to a ballet, Liol admitted. Weve had troupes visit
Ayacucho, but I didnt think it would be quite me. Sorry.

Neomone giggled. Ballet is for everyone.

You should dance with him, Dominique told her. Let him see theres
nothing to be scared of from cultural litism. She cocked an eye at
Liol. Neomones quite a fan of yours, you know.

He grinned, slightly awkward. Oh. Whys that?

You flew in the Lady Mac, the girl said breathlessly. Everyone knows
Joshua was on a secret mission.

If you know, then it cant be that secret, can it.

Told you he was a modest hero, Dominique said. In public, anyway.

Liol managed to keep smiling valiantly. Maybe he had bragged a little.
That was the nature of the starflight business. You know how it is, he
shrugged.

Neomones giggles were unstoppable. Not yet, she said. But Im going
to find out tonight.



The beach glowed a pale silver under the light-tubes lunar radiance.
Joshua took his shoes off to walk along it, holding Iones hand. The sand
was warm and soft, flowing over his toes like grainy liquid. Tiny
fluorescent fish darted about just under the seas surface, as if a
shower of pink and azure sparks were tumbling horizontally through the
water. Somebody had made a row of small melted-looking mounds just above
the shoreline, meandering away into the distance.

Ione signed contentedly, and leaned into him. I know its silly, but I
keep coming back. She loved playing on this beach. I suppose Im
expecting to find her here.

Jay?

Yes. She paused. And Haile. I hope shes all right.

The Kiint say she is. They wouldnt lie about that. Many things, but not
the welfare of a child.

She must be so lonely. Ione sat down with her back to one of the small
dunes. She slid her silk scarf from her neck. I dont see why they wont
let us bring her back from Jobis. Starships are still going there.

Bloody mystics, Joshua sat beside her. Probably not in their
horoscopes.

Youre starting to sound like dear old Parker Higgens.

Joshua laughed. I cant believe that old duffer is coming with us. And
Getchell as well.

Theyre the best Ive got.

Thanks for asking me to go. I need to be flying. Im no good to anybody
just sitting around.

Joshua. She reached over to trace the stark line of his jaw bone. Im
pregnant again. Youre the father.

His mouth flopped open. She smiled, and kissed him gently. Sorry. Bad
timing. Again. Im very good at that.

No, he said with weak defiance. No, thats, er, not bad timing at all.

I thought you should know before you left. Even in the twilight she
could see the shock and wonder in his eyes. There was something
absolutely gorgeous about him when he looked so vulnerable. It means he
cares, I suppose. She touched his face again.

Um. When? he asked.

Before you went to Norfolk. Remember?

He grinned, almost shy. Well never know the exact time then. Theres an
awful lot to choose from.

If I had a choice, I think Id make it the one in Adul Nopals
apartment.

Oh Jesus, yes. The middle of his dinner party. He flopped down onto the
sand, and grinned up. Yeah! That would be fitting.

And Joshua. It was very deliberate. Im not in this state by accident.

Right. Thanks for consulting me. I mean, I thought wed already
established the next Lord of Ruin with Marcus.

Just say no.

He put his hand round her head, and pulled her down, kissing her. I
think weve already confirmed I cant.

Youre not angry with me?

No. Worried, maybe. More about the future than anything. But then the
kid wont have it any different to the rest of the human race when he
dies. We cant fear for that, or wed be utterly paralysed. The Kiint
found a solution, the Laymil, toofor all its inapplicable. We damn well
can.

Thank you, Joshua.

Id like to know why, though. I mean, we already have the next Lord of
Ruin established.

She closed her eyes, shutting out his gentle curiosity. Because youre
perfect, she whispered. For me. Great body, good genes.

Little Miss Romantic.

And a wonderful lover.

Yeah, I know that bit. I carry the burden well, though.

She laughed spryly, then she was crying helplessly.

Hey. No. He cradled her, hugging lightly. Dont do that.

Sorry. She wiped a hand across her eyes. Joshua. Please. I dont love
you. I cant love you.

He flinched, but didnt recoil. I see.

Oh God damn it. Now Ive gone and hurt you. And I didnt want that. I
never wanted that.

What the hell do you want, Ione? I dont understand. Dont tell me this
was convenience, that I was the male easily to hand when you happened to
make your mind up. You wanted my baby. And now youve told me about it.
If you hate me so much, you wouldnt have done that.

I dont hate you. She gripped him tighter. I dont.

Then what? He made an effort not to shout. Every emotion in his head
was freefalling. Thought was almost impossible, only instinct, blind
response. Jesus Christ, do you have any idea what youre doing to me?

Well what do you want out of this, Joshua? Do you want to be a part of
this childs life?

Yes! Jesus, how can you question that?

What part?

A father!

How will you be a father?

In the same way youre a mother.

She took both his hands in hers, quelling the trembling. He shook her
loose angrily. You cant be, she said. I have an affinity bond with
the baby. So does Tranquillity.

Jesus. I can get symbionts, I can be equal to you and this bloody
habitat. Why are you trying to block me out of this?

Joshua. Listen to me. What would you do all day? Even if you were my
consort, officially my husband. What would you do? You cant run
Tranquillity. Thats me, thats what I do. And then itll be the job of
our first child.

I dont know, Ill find something. Im versatile.

There is nothing. There can never be anything for you in Tranquillity,
not permanently. I keep telling you this, you are a starship captain.
This is your port, not your home. If you stay here, youll become like
your father.

Leave my father out of this.

No, Joshua, I wont. He was the same as you, a great captain; and he
stayed here in Tranquillity, he never flew after you were born. Thats
what wrecked him.

Wrong.

I know he didnt fly again.

Joshua looked at her. For all his instinct, his experience, that
beautiful face defeated him every time. What went on inside her head
could never be known. All right, he said abruptly. Ill tell you. He
had it all, and lost it. Thats why he never flew again. Staying here
didnt break his heart, it was broken before that.

Had what?

Everything. What all us owner captains fly for. The big strike, a flight
that kills the banks. And I had it with Norfolk. I was this close, Ione,
and loving it. That mayope exchange deal could have earned me hundreds of
millions, I would have become one of the plutocrats that infest this
bloody habitat. Then I would have been your equal. I would have had my
empire to run, I could have bought a fleet of ships just like Parris
Vasilkovsky. Thats what Id do during the day. And wed be able to get
married, and none of this question about how worthy I am would ever
arise.

Its not about being worthy, Joshua. Dont say that, dont ever. You
stopped the Alchemist from being used, for heavens sake. You think I
look down on you for that? How could some dusty deskbound company
president compare to what you are? Joshua, I am so proud of you it hurts.
Thats why I wanted you as the babys father. Because there is nobody
better, not just your genes or your intuition, there can be no heritage
finer than yours. And if I thought for one second there was a single
chance you would be happy staying here with me, as my husband, or my
partner, or just fitting me in as one of your harem, then I would have
Lady Mac flung into a recycling plant to stop you leaving. But you wont
be happy, you know that. And youd end up blaming me, or yourself; or
worse, the child, for keeping you here. I couldnt stand that, knowing I
was responsible for your misery. Joshua, youre twenty-two, and untamed.
And thats beautiful, thats how it should be, thats your destiny as
much as ruling Tranquillity is mine. Our lives have touched, and I thank
God they have. Weve both been rewarded with two children by it. But
thats all. Thats all we can ever be. Ships that pass in the night.

Joshua searched round for the anger that had blazed so bright just a
moment ago. But it had gone. There was mostly numbness, and a little
shame. I ought to fight her, make her see Im necessary. I hate you for
being right.

I wish I wasnt, she said tenderly. I just hope you can forgive me for
being so selfish. I suppose thats my heritage; Saldanas always get their
way, and to hell with the human fall out.

Do you want me to come back?

Her shoulders slumped wearily. Joshua, Im going to drag you back. Im
not forbidding you anything, Im not saying you cant be a father. And if
you want to stay in Tranquillity and make a go of it, then nobody will
help and support that decision more than me. But I dont believe it will
work, Im sorry, but I really dont. It might for years, but eventually
youd look round and see how much youd lost. And that would creep into
our lives, and our child would grow up in an emotional war zone. I
couldnt stand that. Havent you listened to anything Ive said? Youre
going to be the joy of your childs life, hes going to ache for when you
visit and bring presents and stories. The times youll spend together
will be magical. Its you and I that cannot be inseparable, one of
historys great love affairs. Thats the convention of fatherhood youll
be missing, nothing more.

Life never used to be this complicated.

The sympathy she felt for him was close to a physical suffering. I dont
suppose it was before I came along. Fates a real bitch, isnt she.

Yeah.

Cheer up. You get joy without responsibility. The male dream.

Dont. He held up a warning finger. Dont make a joke of this. Youve
altered my life. Fair enough, encounters always result in some kind of
change. Thats what makes life so wonderful, especially mine with the
opportunities I have. Youre quite right about my wanderlust. But
encounters are chance, natural. You did this quite deliberately. So just
dont try and make light of it.

They sat with their backs resting on the dune for some time, saying
nothing. Even Tranquillity was silent, sensing Iones reluctance to
discuss what had been said.

Eventually they wound up leaning against each other. Joshua put his arm
around her shoulder, and she started crying again. A sharing, if not of
sorrow for what had been done, then reluctant acceptance. Dont leave me
alone tonight, Ione said.

I will never understand you.



Preparing to go to bed took on the quality of a religious ceremony. The
bedrooms window overlooking the underwater vista was opaqued, and the
lights reduced to the smallest glimmer. All they could see was each
other. They undressed and walked slowly down the steps into the deep spar
hand in hand. Bathing was accomplished with scented sponges, graduating
into erotic massage. Their lovemaking which followed was deliberately
extreme, ranging from aching tenderness to a passion that bordered
brutality. Each body responding perfectly to the demands of the other, an
exploitation that only their complete familiarity with one another could
achieve.

The one aspect they could never recapture was the emotional connection
theyd experienced in the previous few days. This sex was a reversion to
their very first time, fun, physically enjoyable, but essentially
meaningless. Because they didnt mean the same to each other. The
attraction was almost as strong as before, but of the devotion there was
little evidence. Joshua finally conceded she was right. Theyd come full
circle.

He wound up lying across the bed, cushions in disarray around him, and
Ione sprawled over his chest. Her cheek stroked his pectoral muscles,
rejoicing in the touch.

I thought the Lords of Ruin sent their children off to be Adamists, he
said.

Fathers and grandfathers children became Adamists, yes. Ive decided
mine wont. Not unless thats what they decide they want to become,
anyway. I want to bring them up properly, whatever that is.

How about that; a revolution from the top.

Every other part of our lives is changing. This particular little ripple
wont be noticed amid the storm. But having a family in whatever form
will move me closer to my human heritage. The Lords of Ruin have been
terribly isolated figures before.

Will you marry, then?

That really is stuck in your brain, isnt it? I have no idea. If I meet
someone special, and we both want to, and were in a position to, then of
course I will. But I am going to have a great many lovers, and Ill have
even more friends; and the children will have their friends to play with
in the parkland. Maybe even Haile will come back and join in the fun.

That sounds like the kind of neverland Id want to grow up in. Question
is now, will it ever happen? We have to survive this crisis first.

We will. Theres a solution out there somewhere. You said, and I agree.

He ran his fingers along her spine, enjoying the happy sighs it incited.
Yeah. Well lets see if this Tyrathcan God can offer any hints.

Youre really looking forward to the flight, arent you? I told you,
this is what you are. She snuggled up closer, one hand stroking his
thigh. What about you? Will you marry? Im sure Sarha would be
interested.

No!

Okay, strike Sarha. Oh, of course, theres always that farm girl on
Norfolk, you know . . . oh whats her name, now?

Joshua laughed, and rolled her over, pinning her arms above her head.
Her name, as you very well know, is Louise. And youre still jealous,
arent you?

Ione stuck her tongue out at him. No.

If I cant hack it as a consort for you, I hardly think a life tilling
the fields is going to enthral me.

True. She lifted her head, and gave him a fast jocose kiss. He still
didnt let go of her arms. Joshua?

He groaned in dismay, and collapsed back onto the mattress beside her;
which sent out slow waves to flip the cushions. I hate that tone. I
always hear it right before I wind up in deep shit.

I was only going to ask, what did happen to your father that last
flight? Lady Mac got back here with a lot of fuselage heat damage and two
jump nodes fused. That couldnt be pirates, or a secret mission for the
Emperor of Oshanko, or rescuing a lost ship from the Meridian fleet that
was caught in a neutron stars gravity well, or any of the other
explanations youve come up with over the years.

Ye of little faith.

She rolled onto her side, and propped her head on one hand. So what was
it?

Okay, if you must know. Dad found a xenoc shipwreck with technology
inside that was worth a fortune; they had gravity generators, a direct
mass energy converter, industrial scale molecular synthesis extruders.
Amazing stuff, centuries in advance of Confederation science. He was
rich, Ione. He and the crew could have altered the entire Confederation
economy with those gadgets.

Why didnt they?

The people whod hired Lady Mac to prospect for gold asteroids turned
out to be terrorists, and he had to escape down a timewarp in the centre
of the xenoc wreck.

Ione stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. Her hand
slapped his shoulder. God, youre impossible.

Joshua shifted round to give her a hurt look. What?

She put her arms round him and moulded her body contentedly to his,
closing her eyes. Dont forget to tell that one to the children.

Tranquillity observed Joshuas expression sink to mild exasperation.
Elaborate thought routines operating within the vast neural strata
briefly examined the possibility that he was telling the truth, but in
the end decided against.



Harkeys Bar was having a modest resurgence in fortune. Relative to the
absolute downtime endured during the quarantine when its space industry
clientele were careful with their money, this was a positive boom. Not
back up to precrisis levels yet; but the ships were returning to
Tranquillitys giant counter-rotating spaceport. Admittedly they were
mundane inter-orbit vessels rather than starships, but nonetheless they
brought new cargoes, and crews with heavy credit disks, and paid the
service companies for maintenance and support. The masters of commerce
and finance living in the starscraper penthouses were already making
deals with the awesome Edenist industrial establishment in whose midst
they had so fortuitously materialized. It wouldnt be long before all the
dormitoried starships were powered up and started travelling to Earth,
and Saturn, and Mars, and the asteroid settlements. Best of all, the buzz
was back among the tables and booths, industry gossip was hot and hectic.
Such confidence did wonders for liberating anticipation and credit disks.

Sarha, Ashly, Dahybi, and Beaulieu had claimed their usual booth, as
requested by Joshua whod told them he wanted a meeting. They didnt have
any trouble, at quarter to nine in the morning there were only a dozen
other people in the place. Dahybi sniffed at his coffee after the
waitress had departed. Even their skirts were longer at this time of day.
Its not natural, drinking coffee in here.

This time isnt natural, Ashly complained. He poured some milk into his
cup, and added the tea. Sarha tsked at him; she always mixed it the other
way round.

Are we flying? Dahybi asked.

Looks like it, Beaulieu said. The captain authorized the service
engineering crew to remove the hull plates over Lady Macs damaged node.
The only reason to do that is to replace it.

Not cheap, Ashly muttered. He stirred his tea thoughtfully.

Joshua pulled the spare seat out and sat down. Whos not cheap? he
asked briskly.

Replacement nodes, Sarha said.

Oh, them. Joshua stuck up a finger, and a waitress popped up at his
side. Tea, croissants, and orange juice, he ordered. She gave him a
friendly smile, and hurried off. Dahybi frowned. Her skirt was short.

Im flying Lady Mac tomorrow, Joshua told them. Just as soon as the
Oenone returns from the ONeill Halo with my new nodes.

Does the First Admiral know? Sarha inquired lightly.

No, but Consensus does. This is not a cargo flight, well be leaving
with Admiral Saldanas squadron.

We?

Yes. Thats why youre here. Im not going to press gang you this time.
You get consulted. I can promise a long and very interesting trip. Which
means I need a good crew.

Im in, Captain, Beaulieu said quickly.

Dahybi sipped some coffee and grinned. Yes.

Joshua looked at Sarha and Ashly. Where are we going? she asked.

To the Tyrathca Sleeping God, so we can ask it how to solve the
possession crisis. Ione and the Consensus believe its on the other side
of the Orion nebula.

Sarha deliberately looked away, studying Ashlys face. The pilot was lost
in stupefaction. Joshuas simple words were the perfect bewitchment for a
man whod given up normal life to witness as much of eternity as he
could. And Joshua knew that, Sarha thought. Monkey and a banana, she
muttered. All right, Joshua, of course were with you. Ashly nodded
dumbly.

Thanks, Joshua told them all. I appreciate it.

Whos handling fusion? Dahybi asked.

Ah, Joshua produced an uncomfortable expression. The not-so-good news
is that our friend Dr Alkad Mzu is coming with us. They started to
protest. Among others, he said loudly. Were carrying quite a few
specialists with us this trip. Shes the official exotic physics expert.

Exotic physics? Sarha sounded amused.

Nobody knows what this God thing actually is, so were covering all the
disciplines. It wont be like the Alchemist mission. Were not on our own
this time.

Okay, but who do you want as fusion officer? Dahybi repeated.

Well . . . Mzus specialist field at the Laymil project was fusion
systems. I could ask her. I didnt know how youd all feel about that.

Badly, Beaulieu said. Joshua blinked. Hed never heard the cosmonik
express a definite opinion before, not about people.

Joshua, Sarha said firmly. Just go and ask Liol, all right? If he says
no, fine, well get someone else. If he says yes, itll be with the
understanding that youre the captain. And you know hes up to the job.
He deserves the chance, and I dont just mean to crew.

Joshua looked round the other three, receiving their encouragement.
Suppose theres no harm in asking, he admitted.



The crews were starting to refer to themselves as the Deathkiss squadron.
On several occasions the phrase had almost slipped from Rear-Admiral
Meredith Saldanas own mouth as well. Discipline had kept it from being
spoken, rather than neural nanonic prohibitions, but he sympathised with
his personnel.

The sol-system news companies were hailing Tranquillitys appearance in
Jupiter orbit as a huge victory over the possessed, and Capone in
particular. Meredith didnt see it quite that way. It was the second time
the squadron had gone up against the possessed, and the second time
theyd been forced to retreat. This time they owed their lives entirely
to luck . . . and his own rebel ancestors foresight. He wasnt entirely
sure if the universe was being ironic or contemptuous towards him. The
only certainty in his life these days was the squadrons morale, which
was close to nonexistent. His day cabins processor datavised an
admission request, which he granted. Commander Kroeber and Lieutenant
Rhoecus air swam through the open hatch. They secured their feet on a
stikpad and saluted.

At ease, Meredith told them. What have you got for me?

Our assignment orders, sir, Rhoecus said. Theyre from the Jovian
Consensus.

Meredith gave Commander Kroeber a brief glance. Theyd been waiting for
new orders from the 2nd Fleet headquarters in the ONeill Halo. Go
ahead, Lieutenant.

Sir, its a secure operation. CNIS has located an antimatter production
station, they asked Jupiter to eliminate it.

Could have been worse, Meredith said. For all it was rare, an assault
on an antimatter station was a standard procedure. A straightforward
mission like this was just what the crews needed to restore confidence in
themselves. Then he noticed the reservation in Rhoecuss expression.
Continue.

A supplementary order has been added by the Jovian Security
sub-Consensus. The station is to be captured intact.

Meredith hardened his expression, knowing Consensus would be observing
his disapproval through Rhoecuss eyes. I really do hope that youre not
going to suggest we start arming ourselves with that abomination.

If anything, Rhoecus seemed rather relieved. No, sir, absolutely not.

Then what are we capturing it for?

Sir, its to be used for fuelling the Lady Macbeths antimatter drive
unit. Consensus is sending a pair of ships beyond the Orion nebula.

The statement was so extraordinary Meredith initially didnt know what to
make of it. Though that ships name . . . Oh yes, of course, Lagrange
Calvert; and there was also the matter of a ludicrously ballsy manoeuvre
through Lalondes upper atmosphere. Why? he asked mildly.

Its a contact mission with the non-Confederation Tyrathca. We believe
they may have information relevant to possession.

Meredith knew he was being judged by Consensus. An Adamista
Saldanabeing asked by Edenists to break the very law the Confederation
was formed to enforce. At the least I should query 2nd Fleet
headquarters. But in the end it comes down to trust. Consensus would
never initiate such a mission without a good reason. We live in
interesting times, Lieutenant.

Yes, sir; unfortunately, we do.

Then lets hope we outlive them. Very well. Commander Kroeber, squadron
to stand by for assault duties.

Consensus has designated fifteen voidhawks to join us, sir, Rhoecus
said. Weapons loading for the frigates has been given full priority.

When do we leave?

The Lady Macbeth is undergoing some essential maintenance. She should be
ready to join the squadron in another twelve hours.

I hope this Lagrange Calvert character can stay in formation, Meredith
said.

Consensus has every confidence in Captain Calvert, sir.



The two of them sat at a table by the window in Harkeys Bar. Glittering
stars chased a shallow arc behind them as their drinks were delivered.
Two slender crystal flutes of Norfolk Tears. The waitress thought that
wonderfully romantic. They were both captains, he in crumpled overalls
but still with the silver star on his shoulder, she in an immaculate
Edenist blue satin ship-tunic. A handsome couple.

Syrinx picked her glass up and smiled. We really shouldnt be drinking.
Were flying in seven hours.

Absolutely, Joshua agreed. He touched his glass to hers. Cheers. They
both sipped, relishing the drinks delectable impact.

Norfolk was such a lovely world, Syrinx said. I was planning on going
back next midsummer.

Me too. Id got this amazing deal lined up. And . . . there was a girl.

She took another sip. Now theres a surprise.

Youve changed. Not so uptight.

And youre not so irresponsible.

Heres to the sustainable middle ground. They touched glasses again.

Hows the refit coming on? Syrinx asked.

On schedule so far. Weve got the new reaction mass tanks installed in
Lady Macs cargo holds. I left the engineering team plumbing them in.
Dahybi is running integration protocols through the new node; theres
some kind of software disparity with the rest of them. But then there
always is a problem with new units, the manufacturers can never resist
trying to improve something that works perfectly well already. Hell have
it debugged ready for departure time.

Sounds like you have a good crew.

The best. Hows Oenone?

Fine. The supplement fusion generators are standard items. We already
had the attachment points for them in the cargo cradles.

Looks like were running out of excuses, then.

Yeah. But I bet the view from that side of the nebula is quite
something.

It will be. He hesitated for a moment. Are you all right?

Syrinx studied him over the top of the flute; her ability to read Adamist
emotions was quite adroit these days, so she considered. His genuine
concern gladdened her. I am now. Bit of a basket case for a while, after
Pernik, but the doctors and my friends helped put me back together again.

Good friends.

The best.

So why this flight?

Mainly Oenone and I are flying because we think this is how we can
contribute best. If that sounds superior, I apologise, but its what I
feel.

Its the only reason Im here. You know, you and I are pretty unique.
Theres not many of us whove come face to face with the possessed and
survived. That does tend to focus the mind somewhat.

I know what you mean.

Ive never been so scared before. Death is always so difficult for us.
Most people just ignore it. Then when you start to see your last days
drifting away you content yourself that youve had a good life, that it
hasnt been for nothing. And, hey, there might be an afterlife after all,
which is good because deep down youve convinced yourself you did your
best, so the plus column is always going to be in the black when it comes
to Judgement day. Only there isnt a Judgement day, the universe doesnt
care.

Laton worked it out; thats what gets me. Ive retrieved that last
message of his time and again, and he really believed Edenists wont be
trapped in the beyond. Not even one in a billion of us, he said. Why,
Joshua? Were not that different, not really.

What does Consensus think?

Theres no opinion yet. Were trying to ascertain the general nature of
the possessed, and compare it to our own psychological profile. Laton
said that would provide us with an insight. The Mortonridge Liberation
ought to generate a great deal of raw data.

Im not sure how helpful thatll be. Every era has a different outlook.
Whats thoroughly normal behaviour for a Seventeenth Century potter is
going to be utterly different from you. I always think Ashlys
ridiculously old fashioned on some things; hes horrified by the way kids
today can access stim programs.

So am I.

But you cant restrict access, not in a universal data culture like
ours. You have to educate society about whats acceptable and what isnt.
A little adolescent experimentation isnt harmful, in moderation. We have
to concentrate on pushing the moderation aspect, help people come to
terms with whats out there. The alternative is censorship, which the
communication nets will defeat every time.

Thats defeatism. Im not saying people shouldnt be educated about the
problems of stim programs; but if you made the effort, Adamist culture
could abolish them.

Knowledge cant be destroyed, it has to be absorbed and accommodated.
He glanced dolefully out at Jupiter. As I tried to argue with the First
Admiral. He wasnt terribly impressed, either.

Im not surprised. The fact were going to use antimatter on this flight
is restricted information. Rightly so.

Thats different Joshua began, then grunted. Looks like Im not going
to make it past the beyond. Dont think like an Edenist.

No, thats not right. This is just a difference in beliefs. We both
agree stim addiction is a dreadful blight, we just differ on how to treat
it. We still think the same way. I dont understand this! Damnit!

Lets hope the Sleeping God can show us the difference. He gave her a
tentative look. Can I ask a personal question?

She rubbed the tip of her index finger round the rim of the flute, then
sucked on it. Joshua Calvert, I have a devoted lover, thank you.

Er, actually, I was wondering if you had any children.

Oh, she said, and promptly blushed. No, I dont. Not yet anyway. My
sister Pomona has three; it makes me wonder what Ive been doing with my
time.

When you do have children, how do you raise them? Voidhawk captains, I
mean. You dont have them on board, do you?

No, we dont. Shipboard life is for adults, even aboard a voidhawk.

So how do they grow up?

What do you mean? It was a strange question, especially from him. But
she could see it was important.

They havent got you there as a mother.

Oh, I see. It doesnt matter, for them anyway. Voidhawk captains tend to
have fairly large extended families. I must take you to see my mother
some time, then youll see first-hand. Any children I have while Im
still flying with Oenone will be taken care of by my army of relatives,
and the habitat as well. Im not propagandising, but Edenism is one giant
family. Theres no such thing as an orphan among us. Of course, its hard
on us captains, having to kiss goodbye to our babies for months at a
time. But thats been the fate of sailors for millennia now. And of
course, we do get to make up for it at the end. When Oenones eggs are
birthed, I wind up at ninety years old in a house with a dozen screaming
infants. Imagine that.

Are they happy, those other children? The ones you have to leave behind.

Yes. Theyre happy. I know you think were terribly formal and mannered,
but were not mechanoids, Joshua, we love our children. She reached over
and squeezed his hand. You okay?

Oh yeah. Im okay. He concentrated on his flute. Syrinx. You can count
on me during the flight.

I know that, Joshua. I reviewed the Murora memory a few times, and Ive
spoken to Samuel, too.

He gestured out at the starfield. The real answer lies out there,
somewhere.

Consensus has known that all along. And as the Kiint wouldnt tell me .
. .

And Im not smart enough to help the research professors . . .

They smiled. Heres to the flight, Syrinx said.

Soaring where angels fear to fly.

They downed the remainder of their Norfolk Tears. Syrinx blew heavily,
and blinked the moisture away from her eyes. Then she frowned at the
figure standing at the bar. Jesus, Joshua, I didnt know there was two
of you.

The enjoyable surprise of hearing an Edenist swear in such a fashion was
quelled with pique when he saw who she was talking about. He stuck his
hand up and waved Liol over.

Delighted to meet you, Liol said when Joshua introduced them. He
polished up the Calvert grin for her benefit, and kissed her hand.

Syrinx laughed, and stood up. Sorry Liol, Im afraid I had my
inoculation some time ago. Joshua was chuckling.

Ill leave the pair of you to it, she said, and gave Joshua a light
kiss. Dont be late.

Got her eddress? Liol asked from the side of his mouth as he watched
her walk away.

Liol, thats a voidhawk ship-tunic. Syrinx doesnt have an eddress. So
how are you?

Absolutely fine. Liol reversed a chair, and straddled it, arms resting
on the back. This is party city for me all right. I think Ill move
Quantum Serendipity here after the crisis.

Right. Havent seen much of you since we docked.

Well hey, no surprise there. That Dominique, hell of a girl. He lowered
his voice to a throaty gloating growl. Game on, five, six times a night.
Every position I know, then some thats got to be just for xenocs.

Wow.

Last night, you know what? Threesome. Neomone joined in.

No shit? You record a sensevise?

Liol put both hands down on the table, and stared at his brother. Josh.

Yep.

For Christs sake take me with you.



Kerry was the first planet, the test. Catholic Irish-ethnic to the
bedrock, its inhabitants gave the priests of the Unified Church a very
hard time. Stubbornly suspicious of technology, it took them a half a
century longer than the development company projected to reach full
technoindustrial independence. When they did achieve it, their economic
index never matched the acceleration curve of the more driven
Western-Christian work-ethic planets. They were comfortably off, favoured
large families, traded modestly with nearby star systems, contributed
grudgingly to the Confederation Assembly and Navy, and went to Church
regularly. There were no aspirations to become a galactic player like
Kulu, Oshanko, and Edenism. Quiet people getting on with their lives.
Until the possession crisis arrived.

The planet was seven light-years from New California, and worried. Their
Strategic Defence network was the absolute minimum for a developed world;
and combat wasp stocks were never kept very high; maintenance budgets
were also subject to political trimming. Since the crisis began, and
especially post-Arnstat, Kerry had been desperately trying to upgrade.
Unfortunately their industrial stations werent geared towards churning
out military hardware. Nor were they closely allied to Kulu or Earth who
did produce an abundance of such items. The Edenists of the Kerry system,
orbiting Rathdrum, lent what support they could; but they had their own
defences to enhance first.

Still, went the hope and reasoning, thats the benefit of being galactic
small fry, Capone isnt going to bother with us. When it came to the
effort of mounting a full scale invasion along the lines of Arnstat they
were absolutely right. Which is why Als sudden change of policy caught
them woefully unprepared.

Twelve hellhawks emerged five and a half thousand kilometres above
Kerrys atmosphere, and fired a salvo of ten (fusion powered) combat
wasps each. The bitek craft immediately started accelerating at six gees,
flying away from each other in an expanding globe formation. Their combat
wasps raced on ahead of them, ejecting multiple submunitions. Space was
infected by electronic warfare impulses and thermal decoys, a rapidly
growing blind spot in Kerrys sensor coverage. Submunitions began to
target sensor satellites, inter-orbit ships, spaceplanes, and low orbit
SD platforms. A volley of fusion bombs detonated, creating a further
maelstrom of electromagnetic chaos.

Kerrys SD network controllers, surprised by the vehemence of the attack,
and fearing an Arnstat-style assault, did their best to counter.
Platforms launched counter salvos of combat wasps; electron beams and
X-ray lasers stabbed out, slashing across the vacuum to punch
submunitions into bloating haze-balls of ions. Electronic warfare
generators on the platforms began pumping out their own disruption. After
four seconds spent analysing the attack mode, the networks coordinating
AI determined the hellhawks were engaged in a safe-clearance operation.
It was right.

Ten front-line Organization frigates emerged into the calm centre of the
combat wasp deluge. Fusion drives ignited, driving them down towards the
planet at eight gees. Combat wasps slid out of their launch tubes, and
their drives came on.

The AI had switched all available sensor satellites to scanning the
frigates. Radars and laser radars were essentially useless in the face of
New Californias superior electronic warfare technology. The networks
visual pattern sensors were being pummelled by the nuclear explosions and
deception impulse lasers, but they did manage to distinguish the unique
superhot energy output of antimatter drives. The ultimate horror
unchained above Kerrys beautiful, vulnerable atmosphere.

Unlike ordinary combat wasps, a killstrike didnt eliminate the problem.
Hit a fusion bomb with a laser or kinetic bullet, and there is no nuclear
explosion, it simply disintegrates into its component molecules. But
knock out an antimatter combat wasp, and the drives confinement spheres
will detonate into multi-megaton fury, as will as the warheads.

As soon as the launch was verified, the AIs total priority was
preventing the antimatter combat wasps from getting within a thousand
kilometres of the stratosphere. Starships, communication platforms, port
stations, and industrial stations were reclassified expendable, and left
to take their chances. Every SD resource was concentrated on eliminating
the antimatter drones. Weapons were realigned away from the hellhawks and
frigates, and brought to bear solely on the searing lightpoints racing
over the delicate continents. Defending combat wasps performed drastic
realignment manoeuvres; platform-mounted rail guns pumped out a cascade
of inert kinetic missiles along projected vectors. Patrolling starships
accelerated down at high-gees, bringing their combat wasps and energy
beam weapons in range.

The hellhawks fired another barrage of combat wasps, sending them
streaking away from the nebulous clot of plasma which the initial drone
battle had smeared across the sky. They were aimed at the remaining low
orbit SD platforms shielding the continent below. Apart from activating
the platforms close-defence weapons, there was little the network
controllers could do. Hurtling towards the planet, the frigates began to
diverge, curving away from each other. Nothing challenged their approach.
The continent was completely open to whatever they chose to throw at it.

As the antimatter exploded overhead in a pattern that created an umbrella
of solid incandescent radiation three thousand kilometres across, they
made a strange selection. Two hundred kilometres above the atmosphere,
each warship flung out a batch of inactive ovoids, measuring a mere three
metres high. Their task complete, the frigates curved up, striving for
altitude with an eight-gee acceleration. A second, smaller salvo of
antimatter combat wasps was fired, providing the same kind of
diversionary cover as theyd enjoyed during their descent.

This time, the invaders didnt have it all their own way. The number of
weapons focused on, and active within, the small zone where the frigates
and hellhawks were concentrated began to take effect. Even Kerrys
second-rate hardware had the odds tilting in its favour. A nuclear tipped
submunition exploded against one of the frigates. Its entire stock of
antimatter detonated instantaneously. The radiation blaze wiped out every
chunk of hardware within a five hundred kilometre radius. Outside the
killzone, ships and drones spun away inertly, moulting charred flakes of
null-foam. Exposed fuselages shone like small suns under the equally
intense photonic energy release. To those on the planet unlucky enough to
be looking up at the silent, glorious blossoms of light during the first
stage of the battle, it was as though the noon sun had suddenly
quadrupled in vigour. Then their optic nerves burnt out.

Two of the hellhawks were crippled in the explosion, their polyp
penetrated by lethal quantities of gamma radiation. One of the frigates
was unable to handle the massive energy impact. The dissipation web
beneath its hexagonal fuselage plates turned crimson and melted. The
patterning nodes facing the massive explosion flash suffered catastrophic
failures as the radiation smashed delicate molecular junctions into slag.
The fusion drives failed. Plumes of hot vapour squirted angrily out of
emergency vent nozzles. Inside, the crew charged through their
contingency procedures, desperate to sustain the integrity of the
antimatter confinement spheres in their remaining combat wasps.

None of their Organization colleagues went back for them. As soon as the
eight remaining frigates reached a five thousand kilometre altitude, they
jumped outsystem. The hellhawks followed within seconds, leaving Kerrys
population wondering what the hell had happened. Behind the shrinking
wormhole interstices, the black eggs thundered earthwards with total
impunity. SD sensors never found them amid the electronic disorder.
People on the planet couldnt see their laser-like contrails against the
dazzling aftermath of the orbital explosions.

They fell fast before decelerating at excruciatingly high gees in the
lower atmosphere. Sonic booms rocked across the sleepy farmland, the
first indication that anything was wrong. When the rural folk started to
scan the sky in mild alarm, all that was to be seen were chunks of
flaming debris streaking down from the battleto be expected, claimed
those who knew something of such things. The eggs reached subsonic speed
a kilometre above the land. Petals flipped out from the lower half,
presenting a wider surface area to the air, doubling the drag
coefficient. At four hundred metres, the drogue chute shot up. Two
hundred metres saw the main chute deployment.

Two hundred and fifty of the black eggs thudded to ground at random
across an area measuring over three hundred thousand square kilometres.
The petals failed on eight, while a further nine suffered chute failure.
The remaining two hundred and thirty three produced a bone-rattler
landing for their passengers, bouncing and rolling for several metres
before they came to a halt. Their sides slit open with a loud crack, and
the possessed stepped forth to admire the verdant green land they had
volunteered to infiltrate.



The hellhawks arrived back at New California thirty hours later. They
didnt even get a heros welcome. The Organization already knew the
seeding flight had been a success; information from the infiltrators had
already squirmed its way back through the beyond.

Al was jubilant. He ordered Emmet and Leroy to put together another five
seeding flights immediately. The fleet crews and asteroids cooperated
enthusiastically. The success was nothing like as momentous as the
Arnstat victory, but it kicked in a resurgence of confidence throughout
the Organization. Were a power again, was the shared opinion. Beefs and
recalcitrance sloped away.

The Varrad discarded its fantasy starship image as it approached
Monterey. It slid over the docking ledge pedestal and slowly sank down,
radiating a desultory relief.

<< You did well, >>Hudson Proctor told Pran Soo, the hellhawks resident
soul. << Kiera says shes pleased with you. >>

<< Commence nutrient fluid pumping, >>Pran Soo said flatly.

<< Sure thing. Here it comes. Enjoy. >>

Hudson Proctor gave a short command, and the fluid surged along the pipes
and into the hellhawks internal reserve bladders.

<< Two of us were exterminated, >>Pran Soo announced to the other
hellhawks. << Linsky and Maranthis. They were irradiated when Kerrys SD
network took out the Dorbane. It was awful. I felt their structure
withering. >>

<< Price we pay for victory, >>Etchells said swiftly. << Two of us,
against an entire Confederation planet taken out. >>

<< Yeah, >>said Felix, who possessed the Kerachel. << Kerry had me real
worried. When it comes to drinking contests and pub brawls, theyd got us
beat every time. >>

<< Keep your Goddamn pinko loser opinions to yourself, >>Etchells sneered
back. << This was a concept-proving mission. What the fuck do you know
about overall strategy? Were the hard edge of operations, the cosmic
shock troops. >>

<< Give it a rest, you boring little prat. And dont pretend you were
ever in an army. Even armies have a minimum IQ requirement. >>

<< Oh yeah? What you know. I killed fifteen men when I was in combat. >>

<< Yeah, he was a nurse. Couldnt read the label on the medicine bottle.
>>

<< Careful, shit-for-brains. >>

<< Or what? >>

<< Im sure Kiera would be interested to know about this sedition youre
spreading. See what a little fasting does to your attitude. >>

<< SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU BOLLOCKBRAINED NAZI REDNECK MORON. >>

The general affinity band fell silent for quite some time.

<< Were you listening to all that? >>Pran Soo asked Rocio on singular
engagement.

<< I heard, >>the Mindoris possessor replied. << I think things might be
starting to slide our way. >>

<< Could be. Im sure each of us can do simple maths. Two of us per
soft-target planet. When we start hitting hard targets, Kieras going to
have a full scale strike on her hands. >>

<< Which shell win unless we can provide everyone with an alternative
food source. >>

<< Yeah. Hows it going? >>

<< I have been tracking the Lucky Logorn, theyre almost back at Almaden.
>>

<< You think this Deebank guy will go for our pitch? >>

<< He was the first to offer us a deal. At least hell listen to what I
suggest. >>



The First Admiral had stayed away from the CNIS secure laboratory ever
since the incident in court three. Maynard Khanna had been a damn fine
officer, not to mention young and personable. The boy would have gone a
long way in the Confederation Navy, so Samual Aleksandrovich had always
told himself. With or without my patronage. Now he was dead.

The funeral ceremony in Trafalgars multi-denominational church had been
short and simple. Dignified, as was fitting. A flag draped coffin, the
enduring image of military service for centuries, placed reverently on a
pedestal before the altar by the Marine dress guard. It was intended as a
focus for their honour. But Samual had thought it looked more like a
sacrificial offering.

Standing in the front pew, mouthing the words of a hymn, he suddenly
wondered if Khanna was actually watching them. Information gleaned from
captured possessed indicated those ensnared in the beyond were aware of
events inside the real universe. It was a moment of profound spookiness;
he even lowered his hymn book to stare at the coffin in suspicion. Was
this why the whole funeral ritual had started back in pre-history times?
It was one of the most common cross-cultural events, a ceremony to mark
the passing of life. The deceaseds friends and relatives coming to pay
homage, to wish them well on their way. It would be reassuring for a
soul, otherwise so naked and alone, to gain the knowledge that so many
considered their life to be worthwhile.

The remnants of Maynard Khannas body mocked the notion of a fulfilled
existence. Young, tortured to death, his ending had been neither swift
nor noble.

Samual Aleksandrovich had raised his hymn book again and sung with a
vigour which surprised the other officers. Perhaps Khanna would witness
the mark of devotion from his superior officer, and draw some comfort
from the fact. If it made a difference, the effort should be made. Now
Samual Aleksandrovich was having to confront the cause of his regret.
Jacqueline Couteur was still possessing her stolen body, immune from the
usual laws that would deliver justice upon such a treacherous multiple
murderess.

He was accompanied by Mae Ortlieb and Jeeta Anwar from the Assembly
Presidents staff, as well as admiral Lalwani and Maynard Khannas
replacement, Captain Amr al-Sahhaf. The presence of the two presidential
aides he found mildly annoying; an indication of how his decisions and
prerogatives were increasingly coming under political scrutiny. Olton
Haaker had that right, Samual acknowledged, but it was being wielded with
less subtlety as the crisis drew out.

For the first time he was actually thankful for the Mortonridge
Liberation. Positive physical action on such a massive scale had diverted
the attention of both the Assembly and the media companies from Navy
activities. The politicians, he conceded grimly, might have been right
about the psychological impact such a campaign would create. Hed even
accessed a few rover reporter sensevises himself to see how the serjeants
were doing. My God, the mud!

Dr Gilmore and Euru greeted the small elite delegation with little sign
of nerves. A good omen, Samual thought. His spirits lifted further when
Gilmore started to lead them along to the physics and electronics
laboratory section, away from the demon trap.

Bitek Laboratory Thirteen was almost the same as any standard electronic
research facility. A long room lined with benches, several morgue-like
slabs arranged down the centre, and glass-walled clean rooms at one end.
Tall stacks of experimental equipment were standing like modern megaliths
on every surface, alongside ultra-high-resolution scanners and powerful
desktop blocks. The only distinguishing items the First Admiral could see
were the clone vats. Those you normally wouldnt find outside an Edenist
establishment.

Exactly what are you demonstrating for us? Jeeta Anwar asked.

The prototype anti-memory, Euru said. It was surprisingly easy to
assemble. Of course, we do have a great many thoughtware weapons on file,
which weve studied. And the neural mechanisms behind memory retention
are well understood.

If thats the case, Im surprised no one has ever designed one before.

Its a question of application, Gilmore said. As the First Admiral
pointed out once, the more complex a weapon is, the more impractical it
becomes, especially in the field. In order for the anti-memory to work,
the brain must be subjected to quite a long sequence of imprint pulses.
You couldnt just fire it at your opponent the same way you do a bullet.
They have to be looking straight into the beam, and a sharp movement, or
even an inappropriately timed blink will nullify the whole process. And
if it was known to be in use, retinal implants could be programmed to
recognize it, and block it out. However, once you hold a captive,
application becomes extremely simple.

Mattox was waiting for them by the last clean room, looking through the
glass with the air of a proud parent. Testing has been our greatest
stalling point, he explained. Ordinary bitek processors are completely
useless in this respect. We had to design a system which duplicates a
typical human neurone structure in its entirety.

You mean you cloned a brain? Mae Ortlieb asked, a blatant note of
disapproval in her voice.

The structural array is copied from a brain, Mattox said defensively.
But the construct itself is made purely from bitek. There was no cloning
involved. He indicated the clean room.

The delegation moved closer. The room was almost empty, containing a
single table which held a burnished metal cylinder. Slim tubes of
nutrient fluid snaked out of the base to link it with a squat protein
cycler mechanism. A small box protruded from the side of the cylinder,
half-way up. Made of translucent amber plastic, it contained a solitary
dark sphere of some denser material, set near the surface. The First
Admiral upped the magnification on his enhanced retinas. Thats an eye,
he said.

Yes, sir, Mattox said. Were trying to make this as realistic as
possible. Genuine application will require the anti-memory to be
conducted down an optic nerve.

A black electronic module was suspended centimetres from the bitek eye,
held in place by a crude metal clamp. Fibre optic cables trailed away
from it, to plug into the clean rooms utility data sockets.

What sort of routines are you running inside the construct? Mae Ortlieb
asked.

Mine, Euru said. We connected the cortex to an affinity capable
processor, and I transferred a copy of my personality and memories into
it.

She flinched, looking from the Edenist to the metal cylinder. Isnt that
somewhat unusual?

Not relative to this situation, he replied with a smile. We are
attempting to create the most realistic environment we can. For that we
need a human mind. If you would care to give it a simple Turing test. He
touched a processor block on the wall beside the clean room. Its AV lens
sparkled.

Who are you? Mae Ortlieb asked, with some self-consciousness.

I suppose I ought to call myself Euru-two, the AV lens replied. But
then Euru has transferred his personality into a neural simulacrum twelve
times already to assist with the anti-memory evaluation.

Then you should be Euru-thirteen.

Just call me junior, its simpler.

And do you believe youve retained your human faculties?

I dont have affinity, of course, which I regard as distressing.
However, as I wont be in existence for very long, its absence is
tolerable. Apart from that, I am fully human.

Volunteering for a suicide isnt a very healthy human trait, and
certainly not for an Edenist.

None the less, its what I committed myself to.

Your original self did. What about you, have you no independence?

Possibly if you left me to develop by myself for several months, I would
become reluctant. At the moment, I am Euru seniors mind twin, and as
such this experiment is quite acceptable to me.

The First Admiral frowned, troubled by what he was witnessing. He hadnt
known Gilmores team had reached quite this level. He gave Euru a
sidelong glance. Im given to understand that a soul is formed by
impressing coherent sentient thought on the beyond-type energy which is
present in this universe. Therefore, as you are a sentient entity, you
will now have your own soul.

I would assume so, admiral, Euru junior replied. It is logical.

Which means you have the potential to become an immortal entity in your
own right. Yet this trial will eliminate you forever. This is an alarming
prospect, for me if not for you. Im not sure we have the moral right to
continue.

I understand what youre saying, Admiral. However, my identity is more
important to me than my soul, or souls. I know that when I am erased from
this construct, I, Euru, will continue to exist. The sum of whatever I am
goes on. This is the knowledge which rewards all Edenists throughout
their lives. Whereas I now exist for one reason, to protect that
continuity for my culture. Human beings have died to protect their homes
and ideals for all of history, even though they never knew for certain
they had souls. I am no different to any of them. I quite plainly choose
to undergo the anti-memory so that our race can overcome this crisis.

Quite a Turing test, Mae Ortlieb said sardonically. I bet the old man
never envisaged this kind of conversation with a machine trying to prove
its own intelligence.

If theres nothing else, Gilmore said quickly.

The First Admiral looked in at the cylinder again, contemplating a
refusal. He knew such an instruction would never be allowed to stand by
the President. And I dont need that kind of interventionism in Navy
affairs right now. Very well, he said reluctantly.

Gilmore and Mattox exchanged a mildly guilty look. Mattox datavised an
instruction to the clean rooms control processor, and the glass turned
opaque. Just to protect you from any possible spillback, he said. If
youd like to access the internal camera you can observe the process in
full. Not that there will be anything much to see. I assure you the
spectrum were using to transmit the anti-memory has been blocked from
the sensor.

True to his word, the image the delegation received when they accessed
the sensor was pallid, the colour almost nonexistent. All they saw was a
small blank disc slide out of the electronic module, positioning itself
over the encapsulated eye. Some iconic overlay digits twisted past,
meaningless.

Thats it, Mattox announced.

The First Admiral cancelled his channel with the processor. The clean
rooms window turned transparent again, in time to catch the disc retract
back into the electronic module.

Gilmore faced the AV lens. Junior, can you hear me? The lenss
diminutive sparkle remained constant.

Mattox received a datavise from the constructs monitoring probes.
Brainwave functions have collapsed, he said. And the synaptic
discharges are completely randomized.

What about memory retention? Gilmore queried.

Probably around thirty to thirty-five per cent. Ill run a complete
neurological capacity scan once its stabilized. The CNIS science team
members smiled round at each other.

Thats good, Gilmore said. Thats damn good. Best percentage yet.

Meaning? the First Admiral asked.

There are no operative thought patterns left in there. Junior has
stopped thinking. The bitek is just a store for memory fragments.

Impressive, Mae Ortlieb said reflectively. So whats your next stage?

Were not sure, Gilmore said. I have to admit, the potential for this
thing is frightening. Our idea is to use it as a threat to force the
souls away from their interface with this universe.

If it works on souls themselves, Jeeta Anwar pointed out.

That prospect is bringing about a whole range of new problems, Gilmore
conceded cheerlessly.

Let me guess, Samual said. If anti-memory is used on a possessed, you
will also erase the hosts memories, and destroy their soul.

It seems likely, Euru said. We know a hosts mind is still contained
within their brain while the possessing soul retains control of the body.
The hosts reappearance after zero-tau immersion forces the possessor out
proves that.

So, anti-memory cannot be used on an individual basis?

Not without killing the hosts soul as well, no sir.

Will this version work in the beyond? Samual asked sharply.

I doubt it would ever get through to the beyond, Mattox said. At
present, its too slow and inefficient. It managed to dissipate Juniors
thought processes; but as you saw, it didnt get all the memories. The
areas of the mind which are not employed when the anti-memory strikes are
likely to be insulated from it as the thought channels which would
ordinarily connect them are nullified. If you analogise the mind with a
city, youre destroying the roads and leaving the buildings intact. Given
that the connection a possessing soul has with the beyond is tenuous at
best, there is no guarantee the anti-memory would manage to pass through
in its current form. We must develop a much faster version.

But you dont know for sure?

No sir. These are estimations and theories. We wont know if a version
works until after its proved successful.

The trouble with that is, a successful anti-memory would exterminate
every soul in the beyond, Euru said quietly.

Is that true?

Yes, sir, Gilmore said. Thats our dilemma. There can be no small
scale test or demonstration. Anti-memory is effectively a doomsday
weapon.

Youll never get the souls to believe that, Lalwani said. In fact,
given what we know of conditions in the beyond, you wouldnt even get
many of them to pay attention to the warning.

I cannot conceivably permit the use of a weapon which will exterminate
billions of human entities, the First Admiral said. You have to provide
me with alternative options.

But Admiral

No. Im sorry, Doctor. I know youve worked hard on this, and I
appreciate the effort you and your team have made. Nobody is more aware
than myself of just how extreme the threat which the possessed present.
But even that cannot justify such a response.

Admiral! Weve explored every option we can think of. Every theorist
Ive got in every scientific discipline there is has been working on
ideas and wild theories. We even tried an exorcism after that priest on
Lalonde claimed his worked. Nothing. Nothing else has come close to being
viable. This is the only progress we have made.

Doctor, Im not denigrating your work or your commitment. But surely you
can see this is completely unacceptable. Morally, ethically, it is wrong.
It cannot be anything other than wrong. What you are suggesting is racial
genocide. I will tell you this, the authorization to use such a
monstrosity will never come from my lips. Nor I suspect, and hope, would
any other Navy officer issue it. Now find me another solution. This
project is terminated.



The First Admirals staff ran a quiet sweepstake to see how long it would
be before President Haaker datavised for a conference, the winner called
it in at ninety-seven minutes. They sat facing each other across the oval
table in a security-level-one sensenviron bubble room. Both kept their
generated faces neutral and intonations level.

Samual, you cant cancel the anti-memory project, the President opened
with. Its all weve got.

In his office, Samual Aleksandrovich smiled at the way Haaker used his
first name, the man always did that when he was going to adopt a totally
intransigent line. Apart from the Mortonridge Liberation, you mean? He
could imagine the tight lips drawn at that jibe.

As you so kindly pointed out earlier, the Liberation is not a solution
to the overall problem. Anti-memory is.

Undoubtedly. Too final. Look, I dont know if Mae and Jeeta explained
this fully to you, but the research team believe it would exterminate
every soul in the beyond. You cant seriously consider that.

Samual, those souls youre so concerned about are attempting to enslave
every one of us. I have to say Im surprised by your attitude. Youre a
military man, you know that war is the result of total irrationality
combined with conflict of interest. This crisis is the supreme example of
both. The souls desperately want to return, and we cannot allow them to.
They will extinguish the human race if they succeed.

They will ruin almost everything we have accomplished. But total life
extinction, no. I dont even believe they can possess all of us. The
Edenists have proved remarkably resistant; and the spread has all but
stopped.

Yes, thanks to your quarantine. Its been a successful policy, I wont
deny that. But so far weve been unable to offer anything that can
reverse whats happened. And thats what the vast majority of the
Confederation population want. Actually, thats what they insist upon.
The spread might have slowed, but it hasnt stopped. You know that as
well as I do. And the quarantine is difficult to enforce.

You really dont understand what youre proposing, do you. There are
billions of souls there. Billions.

And they are living in torment. For whatever reason, they cannot move on
as this Laton character claimed is possible. Dont you think theyd
welcome true death?

Some of them might. I probably would. But neither you nor I have the
right to decide that for them.

They forced us into this position. Theyre the ones invading us.

That does not give us the right to exterminate them. We have to find a
way to help them; by doing that we help ourselves. Can you not see that?

The President abandoned his images impartiality and leant forwards, his
voice becoming earnest. Of course I can see that. Dont try to portray
me as some kind of intransigent villain here. Ive supported you, Samual,
because I know nobody can command the Navy better than you. And Ive been
rewarded by that support. So far weve kept on top of the political
situation, kept the hotheads in line. But it cant last forever.
Sometime, somehow, a solution is going to have to be presented to the
Confederation as a whole. And all weve got so far is one solitary
possible answer: the anti-memory. I cannot permit you to abandon that,
Samual. These are very desperate times; we have to consider everything,
however horrific it appears.

I will never permit such a thing to be used. For all they are different,
the souls are human. I am sworn to protect life throughout the
Confederation.

The order to use it would not be yours to give. A weapon like that never
falls within the prerogative of the military. It belongs to us, the
politicians you despise.

Disapprove of. Occasionally. The First Admiral permitted a slight smile
to show.

Keep on searching, Samual. Bully Gilmore and his people into finding a
decent solution, a humanitarian one. I want that as much as you do. But
they are to continue to develop the anti-memory in parallel.

There was a pause. Samual knew that to refuse now would mean Haaker
issuing an official request through his office. Which in turn would make
his position as First Admiral untenable. That was the stark choice on
offer.

Of course, Mr President.

President Haaker gave a tight smile, and datavised his processor to
cancel the meeting, safe in the knowledge that their oh-so diplomatic
clash would be known to no one.

The encryption techniques which provided a security-level-one conference
were, after all, known to be unbreakable. The most common statistic
quoted by security experts was that every AI in the Confederation running
in parallel would be unable to crack the code in less than five times the
life of the universe. It would, therefore, have proved quite distressing
to the CNIS secure communications division (as well as their ESA and B7
equivalents, among others) to know that a perfect replica of a 27-inch
1980s Sony Trinitron colour television was currently showing the image
of the First Admiral and the Assembly President to an audience of fifteen
attentive duomillenarians and one highly inattentive ten-year-old girl.

Tracy Dean sighed in frustration as the picture vanished to a tiny
phosphor dot in the middle of the screen. Well, thats gone and put the
cat amongst the pigeons, and no mistake.

Jay was swinging her feet about while she sat on a too-high stool. As
well as being their main social centre, the clubhouse catered for the
retired Kiint observers who werent quite up to living by themselves in a
chalet anymore. A huge airy building, with wide corridors and broad
archways opening into sunlit rooms that all seemed to resemble hotel
lounges. The walls were white plaster, with dark-red tile floors laid
everywhere. Big clay pots growing tall palms were a favourite. Tiny birds
with bright gold and scarlet bodies and turquoise membrane wings
flittered in and out through the open windows, dodging the purple
provider globes. The whole theme of the clubhouse was based around
comfort. There were no stairs or steps, only ramps; chairs were deeply
cushioned; even the food extruded by the universal providers, no matter
what type, was soft, requiring little effort to chew.

The first five minutes walking through the building had been interesting.
Tracy showed her round, introducing her to the other residents, all of
whom were quite spry despite their frail appearance. Of course they were
all very happy to see her, making a fuss, patting her head, winking
fondly, telling her how nice her new dress was, suggesting strangely
named biscuits, sweets and ice creams they thought shed enjoy. They
didnt move much from their lounge chairs; contenting themselves with
watching events around the Confederation and nostalgic programmes from
centuries past.

Jay and Tracy wound up in the lounge with the big TV for half the
afternoon, while the residents argued over what channel to watch. They
flipped through real-time secret governmental and military conferences,
alternating those with a show called Happy Days, which they all cackled
along to in synchronisation with the brash laughter track. Even the
original commercial breaks were showing. Jay smiled in confusion at the
archaic unfunny characters, and kept sneaking glances out of the window.
For the last three days shed played on the beach with the games the
universal providers had extruded; swam, gone for long walks along the
sand and through the peaceful jungle behind the beach. The meals had
easily been as good as the ones in Tranquillity. Tracy had even got her a
processor block with an AV lens that was able to pick up Confederation
entertainment shows, which she watched for a few hours every evening. And
Richard Keaton had popped in a couple of times to see how she was getting
on. But, basically, she was fed-up. Those planets hanging so invitingly
in the sky above were a permanent temptation, a reminder that things in
the Kiint home system were a bit more active than the human beach.

Tracy caught her wistful gaze once and patted her hand. Cultural
differences, she said confidentially as the mortified Fonz received his
army draft papers. You have to understand the decade before you
understand the humour.

Jay nodded wisely, and wondered just when shed be allowed to see Haile
again. Haile was a lot more fun than the Fonz. Then theyd flicked
stations to the First Admiral and the President.

Corpus will have to intervene now, one of the other residents said, a
lady called Saska. That anti-memory could seep outside the human
spectrum. Then thered be trouble.

Corpus wont, Tracy replied. It never does. What is, is. Remember?

Check your references, another woman said. Plenty of races considered
deploying similar weapons when they encountered the beyond. Weve got
records of eighteen being used.

Thats awful. What happened?

They didnt work very well. Only a moderate percentage of the inverse
transcendent population were eliminated. Theres too much pattern
distortion among the inverses to conduct an anti-memory properly. No
species has ever developed one that operates fast enough to be effective.
Such things cannot be considered a final solution by any means.

Yes but that idiot Haaker wont know that until after its been tried,
Galic, one of the men, complained. We cant possibly allow a human to
die, not even an inverse. No human has ever died.

Weve suffered a lot though, a resentful voice muttered.

And theyll start dying on the removed worlds soon enough.

I tell you, Corpus wont intervene.

We could appeal, Tracy said. At the very least we could ask for an
insertion at the anti-memory project to monitor its development. After
all, if anyones going to come up with an anti-memory fast enough to
devastate the beyond, itll be our weapons-mad race.

All right, Saska said. But well need a quorum before we can even get
the appeal up to an executive level.

As if thatll be a problem, Galic said.

Tracy smiled mischievously. And I know of someone whos perfectly suited
to this particular insertion. Several groans were issued across the
lounge.

Him?

Far too smart for his own good, if you ask me.

No discipline.

We never ran observer operations like that.

Cocky little bugger.

Nonsense, Tracy said briskly. She put her arm round Jay. Jay likes
him, dont you, Jay?

Who?

Richard.

Oh. Jay held up Prince Dell; for some unexplainable reason she hadnt
managed to abandon the bear in her room. He gave me this, she announced
to the lounge at large.

Tracy laughed. There you go then. Arnie, you prepare the appeal, youre
best acquainted with the minutiae of Corpus protocol procedures.

All right. One of the men raised his hands in gruff submission. I
suppose I can spare the time.

The TV was switched back on, playing the signature tune for I Love
Lucy. Tracy pulled a face, and took Jays hand. Come on, poppet, I
think youre quite bored enough already.

Whos the Corpus? Jay asked as they walked through the front entrance
and into the sharp sunlight. There was a black iron penny-farthing
bicycle mounted on a stone pedestal just outside. The first time Jay had
seen it, shed taken an age to work out how people were supposed to ride
it.

Corpus isnt a who, exactly, Tracy said. Its more like the Kiint
version of an Edenist Consensus. Except, its sort of a philosophy as
well as a government. Im sorry, thats not a very good explanation, is
it?

Its in charge, you mean?

Tracys hesitation was barely noticeable. Yes, thats right. We have to
obey its laws. And the strongest of all is non-intervention. The one
which Haile broke to bring you here.

And youre worried about this anti-memory weapon thing?

Badly worried, though everyone is trying not to show it. That thing
could cause havoc if it gets released into the beyond. We really cant
allow that to happen, poppet. Which is why I want Richard sent to
Trafalgar.

Why?

You heard what they were saying. He lacks discipline. She winked.

Tracy led her back to the circle of ebony marble above the beach. Jay had
seen several of them dotted around the cluster of chalets, including a
couple in the clubhouse itself. A few times shed even seen the black
spheres blink into existence and deposit somebody. Once shed actually
scampered on to a circle herself, closing her eyes and holding her
breath. But nothing had happened. She guessed you needed to datavise
whatever control processor they used.

Tracy stopped at the edge of the circle, and held up a finger to Jay.
Someone to see you, she said.

A black sphere materialized. Then Haile was standing there, half-formed
arms waving uncertainly.

<< Friend Jay! Much gladness. >>

Jay squealed excitedly, and rushed forward to throw her arms around her
friends neck. Whereve you been? I missed you. There was plenty of
hurt in the voice.

<< I have had time learning much. >>

Like what?

A tractamorphic arm curled round Jays waist. << How things work. >>

What things?

<< The Corpus. >>Hailes tone was slightly awed.

Jay rubbed the top of the baby Kiints head. Oh that. Everyone heres
really annoyed with it.

<< With Corpus? That cannot be. >>

It wont help humans with possession, not big help like we need, anyway.
Dont worry, Tracys going to lodge an appeal. Everything will be all
right eventually.

<< This is goodness. Corpus is most wise. >>

Yeah? She patted Hailes front leg, and the Kiint obediently bent her
knee. Jay scrambled up quickly to sit astride Hailes neck. Does it know
any good sandcastle designs?

Haile lumbered off the ebony circle. << Corpus has no knowledge
concerning the building of castles from sand. >>Jay grinned smugly.

Now you two be good, Tracy said sternly. You can swim, but youre not
to go out of your depth in the water. I know the providers will help if
you get into trouble, but thats not the point. You have to learn to take
responsibility for yourselves. Understood?

Yes, Tracy.

<< I have comprehension. >>

All right, go on then, have fun. And Jay, youre not to stuff yourself
with sweets. Im cooking supper for us tonight, and I shall be very cross
if you dont eat anything.

Yes, Tracy. She squeezed her knees into Hailes flanks, and the Kiint
started moving forwards, taking them quickly away from the old woman.

Did you get into lots of trouble for rescuing me? Jay asked anxiously
after theyd left Tracy behind.

<< Corpus has much understanding and provides forgiveness. >>

Oh good.

<< But I am not to do it again. >>

Jay scratched her friends shoulders fondly as they hurried down towards
the water. Hey, youre getting lots better at walking.

The rest of the afternoon was a delight. Like old times back in
Tranquillitys cove. They swam, and the attendant universal provider
extruded a sponge and a brush so Haile could be scrubbed, they built some
sandcastles, though this fine loose sand wasnt terribly good for it, Jay
risked asking for a couple of chocolate almond ice creamswas pretty sure
the provider would tell Tracy if she had any morethey swatted an
inflated beach ball to and fro, and once theyd tired themselves out they
talked about the Kiint home system. Haile didnt know much more than
Tracy had already explained, but whatever new question Jay asked, the
Kiint just consulted Corpus for an answer.

The information was rather intriguing. For a start, the cluster of
retirement chalets were one of three such human establishments on an
otherwise uninhabited island fifty kilometres across. It was called The
Village.

The islands called The Village? Jay asked in puzzlement.

<< Yes. The retired human observers insisted this be so. Corpus suggests
there is much irony in the naming. I know not about irony. >>

Cultural difference, Jay said loftily.

The Village was one of a vast archipelago of islands, home to the
observers of eight hundred different sentient xenoc races. Jay looked
longingly at the yacht anchored offshore. How fabulous it would be to
sail this sea, where every port would be home to a new species.

Are there any Tyrathca here?

<< Some. It is difficult for Corpus to insert into their society. They
occupy many worlds, more than your Confederation. Corpus says they are
insular. This has troubled Corpus recently. >>

Haile told her of the world she was living on now, called Riynine. Nang
and Lieria had selected a home in one of the big cities, a parkland
continent studded with domes and towers and other colossi. There were
hundreds of millions of Kiint living there, and Haile had met lots of
youngsters her own age.

<< I have many new friends now. >>

Thats nice. She tried not to feel jealous.

Riynine was invisible from The Village; it was a long way around the Arc,
almost behind the dazzling sun. One of the capital planets, where flocks
of xenoc starships arrived from worlds clear across the galaxy, forming a
spiralling silver nebula above the atmosphere.

Take me there, Jay pleaded. She ached to see such a wonder. I want to
meet your new friends and see the city.

<< Corpus does not want you alarmed. There is strangeness to be had
there. >>

Oh please, please. Ill simply die if I dont. Its so unfair to come
all this way and not see the best bit. Please, Haile, ask Corpus for me.
Please!

<< Friend Jay. Please have calmness. I will appeal. I promise. >>

Thank you, thank you, thank you. She jumped up and danced around Haile,
who snaked out slender tractamorphic arms to try and catch her.

Hey there, a voice called. Looks like the two of youre having a good
time.

Jay stopped, breathless and flushed. She squinted at the figure walking
across the glaring sand. Richard?

He smiled. I came to say goodbye.

Oh. She let out a heavy breath. Everything in her life was so temporary
these days. People, places . . . She tilted her head. You look
different.

He was wearing a deep-blue uniform, clean and creased; with shining black
boots. A peaked cap was tucked under his arm. And the ponytail was gone;
his hair trimmed down to a centimetre high crop. Senior Lieutenant,
Keaton, Confederation Navy, reporting for duty, maam. He saluted.

Jay giggled. This is my friend, Haile.

<< Hello, Haile. >>

<< Greetings Richard Keaton. >>

Richard tugged at his jacket, shifting his shoulders. So what do you
think? How do I look?

Its very smart.

Ah, I knew it. Its true. All the girls love a uniform.

Do you really have to go?

Yep. Got drafted by our friend Tracy. Im off to Trafalgar to save the
universe from the wicked Doctor Gilmore. Not that he knows hes being
wicked. Thats part of the problem, Im afraid. Ignorance is a tragic
part of life.

How long for? She hadnt quite realized things would move so fast.
Tracy had only talked about the insertion a few hours ago. And now here
it was, about to happen.

Not sure. Thats why I wanted to make sure I saw you before I left. Tell
you not to worry. Tracy and all her cronies mean well, but they get
panicked too easily. I want you to know the human race is a lot smarter
and resilient than those wonderful old coots think we are. Theyve seen
too much of us at the wrong end of history. I know what we are now. And
this is the time that counts. We stand a damn good chance, Jay. I promise
you that.

She put her arms round him. Ill look after Prince Dell for you.

Thanks. He looked about with theatrical slyness, and lowered his voice.
When you get the chance . . . ask the provider for a surfboard and a
jetski. And that was your idea. Okay?

She nodded extravagantly. Okay.



This refit hadnt been on quite the scale as the last two shed
undergone; but there was no doubt about it, the Lady Macbeth was an
honoured source of income to the service and engineering companies that
operated in Tranquillitys counter-rotating spaceport. Several of her
life support capsule fittings had collapsed under the incredible
acceleration of the antimatter drive. Then there were the additional
reaction mass tanks to install in the cargo bays. A whole new specialist
sensor suite wired in for Kempster Getchell, as well as loading a fleet
of small survey satellites. Hull plates had been removed to allow the
replacement energy patterning node to be installed.

When Ione floated into the docking bays control centre, the nullfoam
spray nozzles were folding back against the sides of the bay. Lady Mac
glistened a pristine silver-grey under the ring of lights at the top of
the steep metal crater.

Joshua was talking to some of the staff operating the consoles in front
of the windows, discussing colour and style for the name and
registration. A spindly waldo arm was already sliding out under the
direction of one operator, its ion-jet painter head rotating into
position.

Youre supposed to be launching in twenty-eight minutes, Ione said.

Joshua glanced across and smiled. He left the control centre staff, and
glided over to her. They kissed. Plenty of time. And you cant fly
without a name on the fuselage. Besides, the C.A.B. inspectors have
already cleared us for flight.

Did Dahybi sort out the new node?

Yeah. Eventually. We had to get him some help. A voidhawk actually went
and collected two of the manufacturers software team from the Halo for
us. They solved the synchronization glitch. Jesus, I love ultra priority
projects.

Good.

We just have to load the combat wasps, and Ashlys flying our new MSV
over from the Dassault service bay. Your science team is already on
board. We got Kempster and Renato along with Mzu and the agents. Parker
Higgens insisted on travelling in the Oenone with Oski Katsura and her
assistants.

Dont be offended, Ione said. Poor Parker gets dreadfully spacesick.

Joshua gave her a blank look, as if shed come out with a non sequitur.
And weve got the serjeants in zero-tau as well. Lady Macs hauling a
much bigger load than Oenone.

Its not a contest, Joshua.

He grinned lopsidedly and pulled her close. I know.

Liol erupted through the hatchway. Josh! There you are. Look, we
cantoh.

Hello, Liol, Ione said sweetly. So have you been enjoying yourself in
Tranquillity?

Er, yeah. Its great. Thanks.

You made a big impression on Dominique. She cant stop talking about
you.

Liol grimaced, appealing silently to Joshua.

I dont think youve said goodbye to her yet, have you? Ione asked.

Liols blush was beyond the ability of any neural nanonic override to
control. Ive been very busy helping Josh. Er, hey, perhaps you could do
it for me?

Yes, Liol. She struggled against a laugh. Ill let her know youve
gone.

Thanks, Ione, I owe you one. Er, Josh, we really need you on board now.

Ione and Joshua both started chuckling after he vanished back out of the
hatch. You take care, she told him after a while.

Always do.

The ride back to her apartment took a long time. Or perhaps it was
because she suddenly felt so lonely.

<< He took it all very well, >>Tranquillity said.

<< You think so? He hurts a lot inside. Theres a lot to be said for
ignorance being bliss. But then again, he wouldve guessed eventually. I
wouldnt have been doing either of us any favours, not in the long run. >>

<< I am proud of your integrity. >>

<< Not much compensation for a broken heart . . . Sorry, that was bitchy
of me. Hormones again. >>

<< Do you love him? >>

<< Youre always asking that. >>

<< And each time you give me a different answer. >>

<< I have very strong feelings for him. You know that. God, having two
children with a man shows something. Hes absolutely adorable. But love .
. . love I dont know. I think I love what he is, not him. If I truly
loved him, I wouldve tried to make him stay. We couldve found something
worthwhile for him to do here. Then again, maybe its me. Maybe I can
never love anyone that way, not when I have you. >>She closed her eyes on
the empty tube carriage, and watched the docking cradle slide Lady Mac up
out of the bay. The starships thermo-dump panels unfolded, and the
umbilicals jacked into sockets around her lower hull section disengaged.
A cloud of gas and silver dust blew away. Bright blue ion flames burned
around the starships equator, and she lifted smoothly.

Ten thousand kilometres away, Meredith Saldanas squadron was coming
together in formation. The Oenone lifted cleanly from its pedestal, and
swept out to join Lady Mac. The two very different starships matched
velocities, and headed towards the squadron.

<< I am no substitute for a human, >>Tranquillity said gently. << I would
never claim you. >>

<< I know. But youre my first love, and you always will be my love.
Thats strong competition for a man. >>

<< Voidhawk captains succeed. >>

<< Youre thinking of Syrinx. >>

<< And all her kind. >>

<< But theyre Edenists. They have it different. >>

<< Perhaps you should get to know some while were here. They at least
would not be intimidated by me. >>

<< Good idea. But . . . I dont know if its because Im a Saldana, but I
just dont feel right about embracing Edenism as the solution to all my
problems. Its a wonderful culture. But if we stayed here, if I had an
Edenist for a partner, wed wind up becoming absorbed. >>

<< We have no future returning to Mirchusko. The Laymil are no longer a
mystery. >>

<< I know. But Im still not converting to Edenism. Were unique, you and
I. We might have been created for one purpose, but weve evolved beyond
that now. We have our own lives to live; we have the right to choose our
own future. >>

<< If the possessed dont do that for us. >>

<< They wont. Joshuas flight is only one of a hundred different
explorations into this problem. The human race will surmount this. >>

<< Not without change. Edenism will change, they will surely have to
rethink their attitude to religion. >>

<< I doubt it. Theyll see the beyond as justifying their stance that
spirituality is a null concept, everything has a natural explanation
however bizarre. Laton telling them they wont be caught in the beyond
will simply reinforce their position. >>

<< Then what do you propose? >>

<< Im not sure. Perhaps nothing except for a clean start in a new star
system. After that well see what happens. >>

<< Ah. Now I think I understand the urge for you to have and keep this
child. You intend to found a new culture. A people who have affinity, but
outside the context of Edenism. >>

<< Thats very grand: founding a culture. Im not sure my ambition
extends to that. >>

<< You are a Saldana. Your family has done this once already. >>

<< Yes, but Ive only got one womb. I can hardly birth an entire race. >>

<< There are ways. Exowombs. People who might like to try something new.
Look how many youngsters flocked to Kiera Salters callfalse though it
was. And new habitats can be germinated. >>

Ione smiled. << This excites you, doesnt it? Ive never known you quite
so enthusiastic before. >>

<< I am intrigued, yes. I had never given the future much consideration.
My life has been spent running human affairs and dealing with the Laymil
project. >>

<< Well, well have to wait until the immediate crisis is over before we
consider our options. But it would be something, wouldnt it? Creating
the first post-possession culture, one that overthrows this ridiculous
Adamist prejudice against bitek. We could incorporate the best of both
cultures. >>

<< Now you talk like a true Saldana. >>



Luca Comar reined in his horse at the end of the drive, and dismounted to
wait. It was near to midday, and people were drifting in from the fields
to take a break. He didnt begrudge them that, the sticky heat was quite
something. Bloody unnatural for Norfolk.

But it was the communitys choice. Every days weather was a constant
summer optimum, with bright light and warm breezes; while the nightly
rains doused the land. Such a combination produced a vicious humidity. He
was worried it might start to affect the aboriginal plants; late summer
was normally a period of gradually increasing rain and reducing heat.
There was also the question of how theyd react to missing Duchesss
crimson light. So far there was no visible malaise, but he felt uneasy
about it.

But these conditions seemed to be doing wonders for the new cereal crops.
Hed never seen them so advanced. It was going to be a great harvest.
Things are getting back to normal.

You could tell the world was at rights just from the general mood. There
was a heartiness thatd been missing before. Individual homes were being
taken care of, kept properly clean and tidy, not just wished presentable.
People paid attention to their clothes and general appearance.

And thered been no sign of Bruce Spanton and his motley crew for awhile
now. Though Luca had heard from other community leaders he was down at
the southern end of Kesteven, giving decent folk a hard time. Apart from
the odd problem like that, this was becoming a good life, gentle and
unhurried. Satisfying.

Oh really, youll live it for a quintillion years, will you?

Luca shook his head, clearing it to open his perception wide. Hed sensed
her approaching early this morning. A solitary figure making her way
across the wolds, a knot in the uniformity of thought enveloping the
county. Unhurried, untroubled. Not a threat like Spanton. But certainly a
curiosity. Something about her was slightly out of kilter. He didnt have
a clue what.

So just before Cricklades lunch bell was rung, Luca had told Johan he
would go and investigate the stranger. They still had newcomers drift in.
Anyone prepared to work was given a place in the community.

The stranger was half a mile away now, dawdling along the main road in
some kind of vehicle. Luca frowned. Thats a Romany caravan. The sight
was a pleasing one, bringing up the old memories. Young girls pleased
with his attentions, the coquettish and blatant. Their bodies yielding
willingly, in fields of tall corn, secluded glades, darkened caravans.
Year after year I proved my sexuality with them.

I?

He wrapped his horses reins around one of the spikes on the huge wrought
iron gate, feet shuffling impatiently. The caravans driver must have
been aware of his mood, yet her horses plodding gait never altered. It
was a big sturdy horse, Luca saw while it was on the last couple of
hundred yards, its piebald coat muddied and a wild mane in long tangles.
He got the impression that it could have hauled the caravan right round
the world without pausing.

It kept on coming, and Luca twitched slightly, knowing his nerve was
being tested. He refused to give ground as the huge beast lumbered
inexorably towards him. At the last minute, the woman sitting on the
drivers bench clucked softly, and pulled back on her slender reins. The
caravan halted, rocking slightly on its lightweight spoke-sprung wheels.
Carmitha applied the brake, and hopped down. She studied the man edging
cautiously round Olivier. The horse whinnied at him.

Greetings, he said. Then gave a sudden start as he found himself
staring into the twin barrels of her shotgun. Not for the first time, she
regretted giving Louise Kavanagh her pump-action weapon.

My name is Carmitha. I am not one of you. I am not a possessor. Is that
a problem?

None!

Good. Believe me, I will know if it becomes one. I do have some of your
powers. She concentrated, and the seat of Lucas trousers became very
hot indeed.

He twisted about, frantically slapping at the fabric with his hands
before it started smouldering. Bloody hell.

Carmitha smiled artfully. His thoughts were equally agitated, pastel
whorls of colour that hung just outside her physical sight. I can read
them, she told herself happily. Along with the rest of the magic.

The heat gone, Luca squared himself, recovering some dignity. How did
you . . . His jaw moved silently. Carmitha? Carmitha!

She shouldered the shotgun, and brushed some loose strands of hair from
her face. I see part of you remembers. Then, no man would ever forget an
afternoon in my bed.

Eh. Luca blushed. The memories were certainly strong and colourful,
with her vital flesh hot beneath his hands, the smell of her sweat,
rapturous grunting. He felt the stirrings of an erection.

Down boy, she murmured laconically. What do you call yourself these
days?

Luca Comar.

I see. At the town they said you were the one in charge up here. Nice
irony, that. But then youre all reverting.

I am not reverting! he said indignantly.

Of course not.

How have you got our powers?

Ive no idea. It must be something to do with this place youve taken us
to. After all, you dont have any contact with the beyond any more, do
you?

No. Thank God.

So it must be the way everybodys thoughts impinge on reality here.
Congratulations, you made us all equal in the end. Grant must be real
pissed about that.

If you say so, he said disdainfully.

Carmitha had a throaty chuckle at the umbrage on show. Never mind. Just
as long as you lot realize you cant turn me into a host for one of your
own anymore, well get along okay.

What do you mean, get along?

Its very simple. I hate what youve done to these people, dont be
under any illusion about that. But theres nothing I can do about it; nor
you, now. So I might as well try and live with it, especially as youre
reverting and re-establishing everything thats gone before.

We are not reverting, he insisted. Yet there was the nagging worry
about just how much of Grant Kavanaghs personality he was employing
these days. I must stop being so dependent on him, treat him as
encyclopaedia, nothing more.

Okay, youre not reverting, youre mellowing out. Call it whatever you
want to salvage your dignity. I dont care. Now, Ive spent the last few
weeks hiding out in the woods, and Im getting very sick of cold rabbit
for breakfast. I also havent had a hot bath for a while either. As
youre probably aware. So Im looking for a place to stay over for a
while. Ill pull my weight, cooking, cleaning, pruning; whatever you
like. Its what I always do.

Luca pulled thoughtfully at his lower lip. You shouldnt have been able
to hide from us before. Were aware of the whole world.

My people still have the earthlore your kindboth of youhave forgotten.
When you brought magic back into the world, you made the old enchantments
strong again, no longer just words mumbled by crazed old women.

Interesting. Are there any more of you?

You know how many caravans are here for the midsummer collection. You
tell me.

I dont suppose it matters. Even if all the Romanies survived, you dont
have the power to take us back to the universe we escaped from.

That idea really frightens you, doesnt it?

Terrifies, actually. But then you can see that if you have got our
ability.

Hummm. So, do I get to stay?

He deliberately let his gaze meander over her leather jerkin, remembering
the full breasts and flat belly which lay beneath. Oh, I think I can
find room for you.

Ha! Well dont even think about that!

Who, me? Im not Grant anymore. He walked back to his horse, and took
the reins off the gate.

Carmitha slid her shotgun into the leather holster beside the seat, and
started to lead Olivier along the drive with Luca. The caravan wheels
crunched loudly on the gravel. Damn this humidity. She wiped a hand
across her brow, mussing her hair again. We are going to have a winter,
arent we?

I expect so. Ill certainly make sure we have it on Kesteven, anyway.
The land needs a winter.

Make sure! My God. What arrogance.

I prefer to call it practicality. We know what we need, and we make it
happen. Thats one of the joys of this new life. Theres no fate any
more. We control destiny now.

Right. She looked round the grounds of the big stone manor house as
they approached it. Surprised by how little had changed. But then the
possessed tendency to establish glorious facades over everything they
occupied was nullified here. When you already live in what was
essentially a palace, you dont need gaudy energistic trinkets to enhance
your status. For some reason, the sight of the well maintained fields was
comforting. The normality, I suppose. What we all crave.

Luca led her into the courtyard at the side of the house. The solid stone
walls of the manor and the stable wings magnified the clatter which the
hooves and caravan wheels made on the cobblestones. It was hotter in the
confines of the courtyard, too. Something Carmithas small energistic
ability could do little about. She took off her jerkin, ignoring the way
Luca openly looked at the way her thin dress stuck to her skin.

One of the stables was a burnt-out hulk, with long sootmarks lashing up
over the stone above each empty window. The centre of its slate roof had
collapsed inwards. Carmitha whistled silently. Louise hadnt been lying.
Several groups of field labourers were sheltering from the radiant sky in
open doorways. They were munching on big sandwiches and baguettes,
passing bottles round. Carmitha could feel every pair of eyes on her as
Luca took her over to the remaining stable.

You can put Olivier in here, he said. I think the stalls are big
enough. And theres oats in the sacks at the far end. The hose is working
as well, if you want to wash him down first. It was something of which
he seemed quite proud.

Carmitha could well imagine Grants Kavanaghs reaction if the hose
hadnt been working. Thank you, Ill do that.

Okay. Are you going to sleep in the caravan?

I think thats for the best, dont you?

Sure. When youre ready, go into the kitchen and ask for Susannah.
Shell find something for you to do. He started to walk away.

Grant . . . I mean Luca.

Yeah.

Carmitha held her hand out. Light sparked sharply off the diamond ring.
She gave it to me.

Luca stared at it in shocked recognition, and took a couple of fast paces
towards her. He grabbed her hand and brought it up in front of his face.
Where are they? he demanded hotly. Damnit, where did they go? Are they
safe?

Louise told me about the last time she saw you, Carmitha said coolly.
She glanced pointedly at the burnt out stable.

Luca clenched his fists, his face contorted in anguish. Every thought in
his head was suffused with shame. I didnt . . . I wasnt . . . Oh,
shit! Goddamn it. Where are they? I promise you, I swear, I am not going
to hurt them. Just tell me.

I know. It was a crazy time. Youre ashamed and sorry, now. And youd
never harm a hair on their heads.

Yes. He made an effort to regain control. Look, we did terrible
things. Brutal, inhuman things. To people, women, children. I know it was
wrong. I knew the whole time I was doing it, and I still kept on doing
them. But you dont understand what was driving me. Driving all of us.
He shook an accusing finger, shouting. Youve never died. Youve never
been that insanely fucking desperate. Lucifers deal would have been the
most blessed relief from that place we were imprisoned. I would have done
that. I would have walked right through the gates of hell and begged to
be let in if Id just been given the chance. But we never were. He
crumpled, energy withering from his body. Damnit. Please? I just want to
know if theyre all right. Look, weve got some other non-possessed here,
kids; and theres more in the town. We look after them. Were not total
monsters.

Carmitha looked round the courtyard, almost embarrassed. Are you letting
Grant know all this?

Yes. Yes, I am. I promise.

Okay. I dont know exactly where they are. I left the pair of them at
Bytham, they took the aeroambulance. I saw it fly away.

Aeroambulance?

Yes. It was Genevieves idea. They were trying to reach Norwich. They
thought theyd be safe there.

Oh. He held his horse tightly, almost as though he would fall without
its support. His face brimmed with regret. It would take me months to
reach the city. Thats if theres a ship thatll take me. Damn!

She put a tentative hand on his arm. Sorry Im not much more help. But
that Louise is one tough girl. If anyone is going to avoid possession,
itll be her.

He stared at her incredulously, then gave a bitter laugh. My Louise?
Tough? She cant even sugar her own grapefruit for breakfast. God, what a
stupid bloody way to bring up children. Why did you do that? Why dont
you let them see the world for what it really is? Because theyre born to
be ladies, our society protects them. I protect them, as every father
should. I give them everything thats right and decent in the world. Your
society is shit, worthless, irrelevant; it doesnt even qualify as a
society; youre playing out a medieval pageant, not living. Being
pathetic and insignificant isnt a way of defending yourself and everyone
you love. People have to face up to whats outside their own horizon.
Nothing was outside, not until you demon freaks came and ruined the
universe. We have lived here for centuries and made ourselves a good
respectable home. And you scum ruined that. Ruined! You stole it from us,
and now youre trying to rebuild everything you say you hate. Youre not
even bloody savages, youre below that. No wonder hell didnt want you.

Hey! Carmitha shook him hard. Hey, snap out of it.

Dont touch me! he screamed. His whole body was trembling violently.
Oh God. He sank to his knees, hands pressed into his face. A wretched
voice burbled out between clawed fingers. Im him, Im him. Theres no
difference any more. This isnt what we wanted. Dont you understand?
This isnt how lifes supposed to be here. This was meant to be paradise.

No such place. She rubbed the top of his spine, trying to ease some of
the badly knotted muscles. Youve just got to make the best of it. Like
everybody else.

His head bobbed weakly in what Carmitha supposed was acknowledgement. She
decided this probably wasnt the best time to tell him his dear precious
Louise was pregnant.


Chapter 10
==========


Mortonridge was bleeding away into the ocean, a prolonged and arduous
death. It was as though all the pain, the torment, the misery from a
conflict that could never be anything other than excruciatingly bitter
had manifested itself as mud. Slimy, insidious, limitless, it rotted the
resolve of both sides in the same way it ravaged their physical
environment. The peninsulas living skin of topsoil had torn along the
spine of the central mountain range to slither relentlessly down-slope
into the coastal shallows. All the rich black loam built up over
millennia as the rainforests regenerated themselves upon the decayed
trunks of timelost past generations was sluiced away within two days by
the unnatural rain. Reduced to supersaturated sludge, the precious upper
few metres containing abundant nitrates, bacteria, and aboriginal
earthworm-analogues had become an unstoppable landslip. Hill-sized
moraines of mire were pushed along valleys, bulldozed by the intolerable
pressure exerted by cubic kilometres of more ooze behind.

The mud tides scoured every valley, incline, and hollow; exposing the
denser substrata. A compacted mix of gravel and clay, as sterile as
asteroid regolith. There were no seeds or spores or eggs hidden
tenaciously in its clefts to sprout anew. And precious few nutrients to
succour and support them even if there had been.

Ralph used the SD sensors to watch the thick black stain expanding out
across the sea. The mouth of the Juliffe had produced a similar
discoloration in Lalondes sea, he remembered. But that was just one
small blemish. This was an ecological blight unmatched since the worst of
Earths dystopic Twenty-first Century. Marine creatures were dying in the
plague of unnatural dark waters, choking beneath the uncountable corpses
of their mammalian cousins.

She was right, you know, he told Cathal at the end of the Liberations
first week.

Who?

Annette Ekelund. Remember when we met her at the Firebreak roadblock?
She said wed have to destroy the village in order to save it. And I
stood there and told her that Id do whatever I had to, whatever it took.
Dear God. He slumped back in the thickly cushioned chair behind his
desk. If it hadnt been for the staff in the Ops Room on the other side
of the glass wall he would probably have put his head in his hands.

Cathal glanced into the sparkling light of the desktop AV pillar. The
unhealthy smear around Mortonridges coast had grown almost as a
counterbalance to the shrinking cloud. It was still raining over the
peninsula, of course, but not constantly. The cloud had almost reverted
to a natural weather formation, there were actual gaps amid the thick
dark swirls now. Chief, they did it to themselves. Youve got to stop
punishing yourself over this. No one whos been de-possessed in zero-tau
is blaming you for anything. Theyre gonna give you a fucking medal once
this is over.

Medals, ennoblement, promotions; theyd all been mentioned. Ralph hadnt
paid a lot of attention. Such things were the trappings of state,
government trinkets of no practical value whatsoever. Saving people was
what really counted; everything else was just an acknowledgement, a
method of reinforcing memory. He wasnt entirely sure he wanted that.
Mortonridge would never recover, would never grow back to what it was.
Maybe that was the best memorial, a decimated land was something that
could never be overlooked and ignored by future generations. A truth that
remained unsusceptible to the historical revisionists. The Liberation, he
had decided some while ago, wasnt a victory over Ekelund, at best hed
scored a few points off her. Shed be back for the next match.

Acacia rapped lightly on the open door, and walked in, followed by Janne
Palmer. Ralph waved at them to sit, and datavised a codelock at the door.
The sensenviron bubble room closed about them. Princess Kirsten and
Admiral Farquar were waiting around the oval table for the daily progress
review. Mortonridge itself formed a three dimensional relief map on the
tabletop, small blinking symbols sketching in the state of the campaign.
The number of purple triangles, indicating clusters of possessed, had
increased dramatically over the last ten days as the cloud attenuated
allowing the SD sensors to scan the ground. Invading forces were green
hexagons, an unbroken line mimicking the coastline, sixty-five kilometres
inland.

Admiral Farquar leant forwards, studying the situation with a despondent
expression. Less than ten kilometres a day, he said sombrely. Id
hoped we would be a little further along by now.

You wouldnt say that if youd tried walking through that devilsome
mud, Acacia said. The serjeants are making excellent progress.

It wasnt a criticism, the admiral said hastily. Given the
circumstances, theyve performed marvellously. I simply wish we could
have one piece of luck on our side, everything about these conditions
seems to swing in Ekelunds favour.

Its starting to swing back, Cathal said. The rain and the mud have
triggered just about every booby trap they left in wait for us. And weve
got their locations locked down now. They cant escape.

I can see the actual campaign is advancing well on the ground, Princess
Kirsten said. I have no complaint about the way youre handling that.
However, I do have a problem with the number of casualties were
incurring, on both sides.

The relevant figures stood in gold columns at the top of the table. Ralph
had done his best to ignore them. Not that he could forget. The suicide
rate among the possessed is increasing at an alarming rate, he conceded.
Today saw it reaching eight per cent; and theres very little we can do
about it. Theyre doing it quite deliberately. Its an inhibiting tactic.
After all, what have they got to lose? The whole purpose of the campaign
is to free the bodies theyve captured; if they can deny us that
opportunity then they will weaken our resolve, both on the ground and in
the political arena.

If thats their reasoning, then theyre badly mistaken, Princess
Kirsten said. One of the main reasons for the Kingdoms strength is
because my family can take tough decisions when the need arises. This
Liberation continues until the serjeants meet up on Mortonridges central
mountain. However, I would like some options on how to reduce casualties.

Theres only one, Ralph said. And its by no means perfect. We slow
the front lines advance and use the time to concentrate our forces
around the possessed. At the moment were using almost the minimum number
of serjeants against each nest of them we encounter. That means the
serjeants have to use a lot of gunfire to subdue them. When the possessed
realize theyve lost, they stop resisting the bullets. Bang, we lose.
Another of our people dies, and the lost souls in the beyond have another
recruit.

If we increase the number of serjeants for each encounter, what sort of
reduction do you expect us to be looking at?

At the moment, we try to have at least thirty per cent more serjeants
than possessed. If we could reach double, then we think we can hold the
suicide rate down to a maximum of fifteen per cent each time.

Of course, the ratio will improve naturally as the length of the front
line contracts and the number of possessed decreases, Admiral Farquar
said. Its just that right now were about at maximum stretch. The
serjeants havent got far enough inland to decrease the length of the
front line appreciably, yet theyre encountering a lot of possessed.

That entire situation is going to change over the next three to four
days, Cathal said. Almost all the possessed are on the move. Theyre
retreating from the front line as fast as they can wade. The advance is
going to speed up considerably, so the length will reduce anyway.

Theyre running for now, Janne Palmer said. But theres a lot of heavy
concentrations of them fifty kilometres in from the front line. If
theyve got any sense, theyll regroup.

The more of them there are, the stronger they get, and the more
difficult theyll be to subdue. Especially in light of the suicides,
Acacia said. Ive had the AI drawing up an SD strike pattern to halt
their movements. I dont think they should be allowed to retreat any
further. Were worried that well wind up with a solid core at the centre
which will be just about impossible to crack without large scale
casualties.

I really dont want to wait three to four days for an improvement,
Princess Kirsten said. Ralph, what do you think?

Denying them the ability to congregate is my primary concern, maam.
Theyve already got a lot of people in Schallton, Ketton, and Cauley, I
do not want to see that increase any further. But if we prevent them from
moving from their present locations, and then switch our tactics to a
slower advance, youre looking at almost doubling the estimated time of
the campaign.

But with significantly reduced casualties? the Princess asked.

Ralph looked over at Acacia. Only among the people whove been
possessed. Trying to subdue them with a larger number of serjeants using
less firepower will significantly increase the risk to the serjeants.

We volunteered for this knowing the risks would be great, Acacia said.
And we are prepared for that. However, I feel I should tell you that a
significant number of serjeants are suffering from what I can only
describe as low morale. Its not something we were expecting, the
animating personalities were supposed to be fairly simple thought
routines with basic personalities. It would appear they are evolving into
quite high-order mentalities. Unfortunately, they lack the kind of
sophistication which would allow them to appreciate their full Edenist
heritage. Normally we can mitigate one persons burden by sharing and
sympathising. However, here the number of suffering is far in excess of
the rest of us, which actually places quite a strain on us. We havent
known a scale of suffering like this since Jantrit.

You mean theyre becoming real people? Janne Palmer asked.

Not yet. Nor do we believe they ever will do. Ultimately they are
limited by the capacity of the serjeant processor array, after all. What
I am telling you is that theyre progressing slightly beyond simplistic
bitek servitors. Do not expect machine levels of efficiency in future.
There are human factors involved which will now need to be taken into
account.

Such as? the Princess asked.

They will probably need time to recuperate between assaults. Duties will
have to be rotated between platoons. Im sorry, she said to Ralph. It
adds considerable complications to the planning. Especially if you want
them to prevent the possessed suicides.

Im sure the AI can cope, he said.

It looks like the campaign is going to take a lot longer whatever option
we go for, Admiral Farquar said.

That does have one small benefit, Janne Palmer said.

Id love to hear it, the Princess told her.

Reducing the flow of de-possessed is going to alleviate some of the
pressure on our medical facilities.

Back in her private office, Kirsten shuddered, a movement not reproduced
inside the bubble room. That, out of all the other horrors revealed by
the Liberation, had upset her the most. Cancers were such a rarity in
this day and age, that to see several bulging from a persons skin like
inflated blisters was a profound shock. And there were very few
depossessed who didnt suffer from them. To inflict such an
incapacitating disease for what was apparently little more than vanity
was hubris at an obscene level. That it might also be simple blind
ignorance was almost as bad. I have requested aid from the Kingdom and
our allies as a matter of urgency, she said. We should start to receive
shipments of medical nanonic packages over the next few days. Every
hospital and clinic on the planet is being used, and civilian ships are
being deployed to fly people out to asteroid settlements in the
systemnot that they have many beds or staff, but every little bit helps.
I just wish we could ferry people out-system, but at the moment I cant
break the quarantine for that. In any event, my Foreign Minister has
cautioned me that there would be some reservation from other star systems
about accepting our medical cases. Theyre worried about infiltration by
the possessed, and I cant say I blame them.

Capones new lunacy doesnt help ease the paranoia, Admiral Farquar
grunted. Damn that bastard.

So you would prefer the slow down scenario? Kirsten asked.

Very much so, maam, Janne Palmer said. Its not just a question of
providing medical support, there are transport bottlenecks as well. Its
improved slightly now we can land aircraft at the coastal ports, but we
have to get the de-possessed there first, and they need care which my
occupation forces really arent geared up to provide.

General Hiltch, what do you favour?

I dont like slowing down the advance, maam. With all respect to
Admiral Farquars SD officers, I dont think theyll be able to prevent
the possessed from congregating. Slow their movements, maybe, but halt
them no. And once that happens, well be in a real mess. The kind of
firepower were going to need to break open Ketton at the moment is way
in excess of any assault so far. We have to prevent it from turning into
a runaway situation. At the moment were dictating the pace of events to
them, Id hate to abandon that level of control. Its our one big
advantage.

I see. Very well, youll have my decision before dawn local time.

The sensenviron ended with its usual abruptness, and Kirsten blinked
irritably, allowing her eyes to register the familiar office. Touching
base with normality. Necessary, now. These nightly reviews were becoming
a considerable drain. Not even the Privy Council Grand Policy Conclaves
back in the Apollo Palace had quite the same impact, they implemented
policies that would take decades to mature. The Liberation was all so
now. Something the Saldanas were not accustomed to. In any modern crisis,
the major decision would be whether or not to dispatch a fleet. After
that, everything was down to the admiral in charge.

I make political decisions, not military ones.

But the Liberation had changed all that, blurring the distinction badly.
Military decisions were political ones.

She stood up, stretching, then went over to Allies bust. Her hand
touched his familiar, reassuringly sober features. What would you do?
she murmured. Not that she would ever be accused of making the wrong
choice. Whatever it was, the family would support her. Her equerry,
Sylvester Geray, scrambled to his feet in the reception room, the chair
legs scraping loudly on the tushkwood floor as Kirsten came out of her
office.

Tired? she asked lightly.

No maam.

Yes you are. Im going back to my quarters for a few hours. I wont need
you before seven oclock. Have a sleep, or at least a rest.

Thank you, maam. He bowed deeply as she walked out.

There were few staff about in the private apartments, which was how she
liked them. With the rooms all dark and quiet, it was almost how she
imagined a normal home would be late in the evening. An assistant nanny
and a maid were on duty, sitting up chatting quietly in the lounge next
to the childrens bedrooms. Kirsten stood outside for a moment,
listening; the nannys fianc was in the Royal Navy, and hadnt called
her for a couple of days. The maid was sympathising.

Everyone, Kirsten thought, this has touched and involved every one of us.
And the Liberation is only the beginning. So far the Church had been
noticeably unsuccessful in quelling peoples fears of the beyond. Though
Atherstones Bishop reported that attendance was high in every parish on
the planet, greater than Christmas Eve, hed said almost in indignation.

She opened the door to Edwards study without knocking, only realising
her mistake once she was well inside. There was a girl with him on the
leather settee; his current mistress. Kirsten remembered the security
file Jannike Dermot had provided: minor nobility, her father owned an
estate and some kind of transport company. Pretty young thing, in her
early twenties, with classic delicate bonework. Tall with very long legs;
as they all invariably were with Edward. She stared at Kirsten in utter
consternation, then frantically tried to adjust her evening dress to a
more modest position. Not that she could achieve much modesty with so
little fabric, Kirsten thought in amusement. The girls wine glass went
flying from trembling fingers.

Kirsten frowned at that. The antique carpet was Turkish, a beautiful red
and blue weave; shed given it to Edward as a birthday present fifteen
years ago.

Maam, the girl squeaked. I . . . We . . .

Kirsten merely gave her a mildly enquiring glance.

Come along, my dear, Edward said calmly. He took her arm and escorted
her to the door. Affairs of state. Ill call you in the morning. She
managed a strangled whimper in response. A butler, responding to Edwards
datavise, appeared and gestured politely to the by-now thoroughly
frightened and bewildered girl. Edward shut the study door behind her,
and sighed.

Kirsten started laughing, then put her hand over her mouth. Oh Edward,
Im sorry. I should have let you know I was coming.

He spread his hands wide. Cest la vie.

Poor thing looked terrified. She knelt down and picked the wine glass
up, dabbing at the carpet. Look what she did. Id better get a valet
mechanoid, or itll stain. She datavised the studys processor.

Its a rather good Chablis, actually. He picked the bottle out of its
walnut cooler jacket. Shame to waste it, would you like some?

Lovely, thank you. It has been a very bad day at the office.

Ah. He went over to the cabinet and brought her a fresh glass.

Kirsten sniffed at the bouquet after hed poured. She was jolly
gorgeous. Slightly young, though. Wicked of you. She brushed at
imaginary dust on his lapel. Then again, I can see why shes so
obliging. You always did look rather splendid in uniform.

Edward glanced down at his Royal Navy tunic. There were no Royal crests,
just three discreet medal ribbonsearned long ago. Im just doing my
bit. Though they are all depressingly young at the base. I think they
regard me as some kind of mascot.

Oh poor Edward, the indignity. But not to worry, Zandra and Emmeline are
terribly impressed.

He sat on the leather settee and patted the cushion. Come on, sit down
and tell me whats wrong.

Thank you. She stepped round the small mechanoid that was sniffing at
the wine stain, and sat beside him, welcoming his arm around her
shoulders. The secret of a successful royal marriage: dont have secrets.
They were both intelligent people, which had allowed them to work out the
grounds of a sustainable domestic arrangement a long time ago. In public
and in private he was the perfect companion, a friend and confidant. All
she required was loyalty, which he supplied admirably. In return he was
free to gather whatever perks his position presentedand it wasnt just
girls; he was an avid art collector and bon viveur. They even still slept
together occasionally.

The Liberation is not progressing as well as could be, he said. That
much is obvious. And the net is overloading with speculation.

Kirsten sipped some of the chablis. Progress is the key word, yes. She
told him about the decision she was faced with.

After shed finished, he poured some more wine for himself before
answering. The serjeants developing advanced personalities? Humm. How
intriguing. I wonder if theyll refuse to go back into their habitat
multiplicities when the campaign is over.

I have no idea; Acacia never ventured an opinion. And to be honest, that
part is not my problem.

It might be if they all start applying for citizenship afterwards.

Oh God. She snuggled up closer. No. Im not even going to consider
that right now.

Wise lady. You want my opinion?

Thats why Im here.

You cant ignore the serjeant situation. We are utterly dependent on
them to liberate Mortonridge, and theres a hell of a way to go yet.

A hundred and eighty thousand people de-possessed, seventeen thousand
dead, so far; that leaves us with one-point-eight-million left to save.

Exactly. And were about to enter the phase which will see the heaviest
fighting. If they keep advancing at their current rate, the front line
will reach the first areas where the possessed are concentrated the day
after tomorrow. If you slow them now, the serjeants are going to start
taking heavy losses just before that. Not good. Id say, keep things as
they are until the front line hits those concentrations, then shift to
General Hiltchs outnumbering tactics.

Thats a very logical solution. She stared at the wine. If only all I
had to consider were numbers. But theyre depending on me, Edward.

Who?

The people whove been possessed. Even locked away in their own bodies,
they know the Liberation is coming now; a practical salvation from this
obscenity. They have faith in me, they trust me to deliver them from this
evil. And I have a duty to them. That duty is one of the few true burdens
placed on the family by our people. Now I know there is a way of reducing
the number of my subjects killed, I cannot in all conscience ignore it
for tactical convenience. That would be a betrayal of trust, not to
mention an abdication of duty.

The two impossibles for a Saldana.

Yes. We have had it easy for an awful long time, havent we?

Shall we say: moderately difficult.

Yet if I want to reduce the death rate, Im going to have to ask the
Edenists to take it on the chin for us. You know what bothers me most
about that? People will expect it. Im a Saldana, theyre Edenists. What
could be simpler?

The serjeants arent quite Edenists.

We dont know what the hell they are, not any more. Acacia was hedging
her bets very thoroughly. If theyre worried enough to bring the problem
to me, then it has to be a substantial factor. One I cannot discount from
the humanist equation. Damn it, they were supposed to be automatons.

The Liberation is a very rushed venture. Im sure if Jupiters
geneticists had been given enough time to design a dedicated soldier
construct then this would never have arisen. But we had to borrow from
the Lord of Ruin. Look, General Hiltch was given overall command of the
Liberation. Let him make the decision, its what hes paid for.

Get thee behind me, she muttered. No, Edward, not this time. Im the
one who insisted on reducing the fatalities. It is my responsibility.

Youll be setting a precedent.

Hardly one thats likely to be repeated. All of us are sailing into new,
and very stormy territory; that requires proper leadership. If I cannot
provide that now, then the family will ultimately have failed. We have
spent four hundred years engineering ourselves into this position of
statesmanship, and I will not duck the issue when it really counts. It
stinks of cowardice, and that is one thing I will never allow the
Saldanas to stand accused of.

He kissed her on the side of her head. Well you know you have my
support. If I could make one final observation. The personalities in the
serjeants are all volunteers. They came here knowing what their probable
fate would be. That purpose remains at their core. In that, they are like
every pre-Twenty-first Century army; reluctant, frightened even, but
committed. So give them the time they need to gather their nerve and
resolution, and then use them for the purpose for which they were
created: saving genuine human lives. If they are truly capable of
emotion, then their only hope of gaining satisfaction will come from
achieving that.



Ralph was eating a cold snack in Fort Forwards command complex canteen
when he received the datavise.

Slow the assault, Princess Kirsten told him. I want that suicide
figure reduced as low as you can practically achieve.

Yes maam. Ill see to it. And thank you.

This is what you wanted?

Were not here to recapture land, maam. The Liberation is about people.

I know that. I hope Acacia will forgive us.

Im sure she will, maam. The Edenists understand us pretty well.

Good. Because I also want the serjeant platoons given as much breathing
space between assaults as they require.

That will reduce the rate of advance even further.

I know, but it cant be helped. Dont worry about political and
technical support, General, Ill ensure you get that right to the bitter
end.

Yes maam. The datavise ended. He looked round at the senior staff
eating with him, and gave a slow smile. We got it.



High above the air, cold technological eyes stared downwards, unblinking.
Their multi-spectrum vision could penetrate clean through Mortonridges
thinning strands of puffy white cloud to reveal the small group of warm
figures trekking across the mud. But that was where the observation
failed. Objects around them were perfectly clear, the dendritic tangle of
roots flaring from fallen trees, a pulverised four-wheel-drive rover
almost devoured by the blue-grey mud, even the shape of large stones
ploughed up and rolled along by thick runnels of sludge. In contrast, the
figures were hazed by shimmering air; infrared blobs no more substantial
than candle flames. No matter which combination of discrimination filters
it applied to the sensor image, the AI was unable to determine their
exact number. Best estimate, taken from the width of the distortion and
measuring the thermal imprint of the disturbed mud they left behind, was
between four and nine.

Stephanie could feel the necklace of prying satellites as they slid
relentlessly along their arc from horizon to horizon. Not so much their
physical existence; that kind of knowledge had vanished along with the
cloud and the possesseds mental unity. But their avaricious intent was
forever there, intruding upon the worlds intrinsic harmonies. It acted
as a reminder for her to keep her guard up. The others were the same.
Messing with the sight on a level which equated to waving a hand at
persistent flies. Not that satellites were their problem. A far larger
note of discord resonated from the serjeants, now just a couple of miles
away. And coming closer, always closer. Machine-like in their
determination.

At first Stephanie had ignored them, employing a kind of bravado that was
almost entirely alien to her. Everybody had, once theyd reached the
shelter (and dryness!) of the barn. The building didnt amount to much,
set on a gentle hillock, with a low wall of stone acting as a base for
composite panelling walls and a shallow roof. Theyd stumbled across it
five horrendous hours after setting out from the end of the valley.
McPhee claimed that proved they were following the road. By then, nobody
was arguing with him. In fact, nobody was speaking at all. Their limbs
were trembling from exertion, not even reinforcing them with energistic
strength helped much. Theyd long since discovered such augmentation had
to be paid for by the body in the long run.

The barn had come pretty much at the end of their endurance. Thered been
no discussion about using it. As soon as they saw its dark, bleak outline
through the pounding rain theyd trudged grimly towards it. Inside there
was little respite from the weather at first. The wind had torn
innumerable panels off the carbotanium frame, and the concrete floor was
lost beneath a foot of mud. That didnt matter, in their state, it was
pure salvation.

Their energistic power renovated it. Mud flowed up the walls, sealing
over the lost panels and turning to stone. The rain was repelled, and the
howl of the wind muted. Relief united them again, banishing the misery of
the retreat from the valley. It was an emotion which produced an
overreaction of confidence and defiance. Now, they found it possible to
ignore the occasional mind-scream of anguish as another soul was wrenched
from its possessed body by the peril of zero-tau. They cooperated gamely
in searching round outside for food, adopting a campfire jollity as they
cleaned and cooked the dead fish and mud-smeared vegetables.

Then the rain eased off, and the serjeants crunched forwards
remorselessly. Food became very scarce. A week after the Liberation
began, they left the barn, tramping along the melted contour line which
McPhee still insisted was the road. Even living through the deluge under
a flimsy roof hadnt prepared them for the scale of devastation wrought
by the water. Valleys were completely impassable. Huge rivers of mud
slithered along, murmuring and burbling incessantly as they sucked down
and devoured anything that protruded into their course.

Progress was slow, even though theyd now fashioned themselves sturdy
hiking attire (even Tina wore strong leather boots). Two days spent
trying to navigate through the buckled, decrepit landscape. They kept to
the high ground, where swathes of dark-green aboriginal grass were the
only relief from the overlapping shades of brown. Even they were sliced
by deep flash gorges where the water had found a weak seam of soil. There
was no map, and no recognizable features to apply one against. So many
promising ridges ended in sharp dips down into the mud, forcing them to
backtrack, losing hours. But they always knew which way to travel. It was
simple: away from the serjeants. It was also becoming very difficult to
stay ahead. The front line seemed to move at a constant pace, unfazed by
the valleys and impossible terrain, while Stephanie and her group spent
their whole time zigzagging about. What had begun forty-eight hours ago
as a nine mile gap was down to about two, and closing steadily.

Oh, hey, you cats, Cochrane called. You like want the good news or the
bad news first? He had taken point duty, striding out ahead of the
others. Now he stood atop a dune of battered reeds, looking down the
other side in excitement.

The bad, Stephanie said automatically.

The legion of the black hats is speeding up, and theres like this
stupendously huge amount of them.

Whats the good? Tina squealed.

Theyre speeding up because theres like a road down here. A real one,
with tarmac and stuff.

The others didnt exactly increase their pace to reach the bedraggled
hippie, but there was a certain eagerness in their stride thatd been
missing for some time. They clambered up the incline of the dune, and
halted level with him.

Whats there? Moyo asked. His face was perfect, the scars and blisters
gone; eyes solid and bright. He was even able to smile again, doing so
frequently during the last few days theyd spent in the barn. That he
could smile, yet still refuse to let them see what lay underneath the
illusory eyeballs worried Stephanie enormously. A bad form of denial. He
was acting the role of himself; and it was a very thin performance.

Its a valley, she told him.

He groaned. Oh hell, not again.

No, this is different.

The dune was actually the top of a steepish slope which swept down
several hundred yards to the floor of Catmos Vale, a valley that was at
least twenty miles wide. Drizzle and mist made the far side difficult to
see. The floor below was a broad flat expanse whose size had actually
managed to defeat the massive discharges of mud. Its width had absorbed
the surges that coursed out of the narrower ravines along either side;
spreading them wide and robbing them of their destructive power. The
wide, boggy river channel which meandered along the centre had siphoned
the bulk of the tide away, without giving it a chance to amass in
dangerously unstable colloidal waves.

Vast low-lying sections of the floor had turned directly into quagmire
from the rain and overspill. Entire forests had subsided, their trunks
keeling over to lean against each other. Now they were slowly sinking
deeper and deeper as the rapidly expanding subsurface water level gnawed
away at the stability of the loam. Watched over the period of a day or
two, it was almost as if they were melting away.

Small hillocks and knolls formed a vast archipelago of olive-green
islands amid the ochre sea. Hundreds of distressed and emaciated
aboriginal animals scurried about over each of them, herds of kolfrans (a
deer-analogue) and packs of the small canine ferrangs were trampling the
surviving blades of grass into a sticky pulp. Birds scuttled among them,
their feathers too slick with mud for them to fly.

Many of the islands just below the foot of the slope had sections of road
threaded across them. The eye could stitch them together into a single
strand leading along the valley. It led towards a small town, just
visible through the drizzle. Most of it had been built on raised land,
leaving its buildings clear of the mud; as if the entire valley had
become its moat. There was a church near the centre, its classic grey
stone spire standing defiantly proud. Some kind of scarlet symbols had
been painted around the middle.

Thats got to be Ketton, Franklin said. Can you sense them?

Yes, Stephanie said uncomfortably. Theres a lot of us down there. It
would explain the condition of the buildings. There wasnt a tile missing
from the neat houses, no sign of damage. Even the little park was devoid
of puddles.

I guess thats why these guys are like so anxious to reach it. Cochrane
jerked a thumb back down the valley.

It was the first time theyd actually seen the Liberation army. Twenty
jeeps formed a convoy along the road. Whenever the carbon-concrete
surface left the islands to dip under the mud, they slowed slightly,
cautiously testing the way. The mud couldnt have been very deep or
thick, barely coming over the wheels. A V-shaped phalanx of serjeants
followed on behind the jeeps, big dark figures lumbering along quite
quickly considering none of them was on the road. On one side of the
carbon-concrete strip, their line stretched out almost to the central
river of mud; on the other it extended up the side of Catmos Vales wall.
A second train of vehicles, larger than the jeeps, was turning into the
valley several miles behind the front line.

Ho-lee shit, Franklin groaned. We cant make that sort of speed, not
over this terrain.

McPhee was studying the rugged land behind them. I cannot see them up
here.

Theyll be there, Rana said. Theyre on the other side of the river as
well, look. That line is kept level. Theres no break in it. Theyre
scooping us up like horse shit.

If we stay up here well be nailed before sunset.

If we go down, we can keep ahead of them on the road, Stephanie said.
But well have to go through the town. I have a bad feeling about that.
The possessed there know the serjeants are coming, yet theyre staying
put. And theres a lot of them.

Theyre going to make a stand, Moyo said.

Stephanie glanced back at the ominous line moving towards them. Theyll
lose, she said, morosely. Nothing can resist that.

Weve no food left, McPhee said.

Cochrane used an index finger to prod his purple sunglasses up along the
bridge of his nose. Plenty of water, though, man.

Theres nothing to eat up here, Rana said. We have to go down.

The town will hold them off for a while at least, Stephanie said. She
resisted glancing at Moyo, though he was now her principal concern. We
could use the time to take a break, rest up.

Then what? Moyo grunted.

Then we move on. We keep ahead of them.

Why bother?

Dont, she said softly. We try and live life as we always wanted to,
remember? Well I dont want to live like this; and there might be
something different up ahead, because there certainly isnt anything
behind. As long as we keep going, theres hope.

His face compressed to a melancholic expression. He held one arm out,
moving his hand round to try and find her. She gripped his fingers
tightly, and he hugged her against him. Sorry. Im sorry.

Its all right, she murmured. Hey, you know what? The way were
heading, it takes us right up to the central mountain range. You can show
me what mountain gliding is like.

Moyo laughed gruffly, his shoulders trembling. Look, guys, I hate to
fuck up my karma any more by breaking up your major love-in scene here,
but we have to decide where were like going. Like now. This is one army
that doesnt take time out, you dig?

It has to be down to Ketton, Stephanie said briskly. She eyed the long
slope below. It would be slippery, but with their energistic power they
ought to cope. We can get there ahead of the army.

Only just ahead, Franklin said. Well be trapped in the town. If we
stay up here, we can still keep ahead of them.

Not by much, McPhee said.

And youll not have time to gather any food, Rana said. I dont know
about you, but I know I cant keep this pace up for much longer without
eating a full meal. We must consider the practicalities of the situation.
My calorie intake has been very low over the last couple of days.

Its a permanent downer, Cochrane said. Your practical problem is that
you dont eat properly anyway.

She glared at him. I really hope you arent going to suggest I should
eat dead flesh.

Oh brother, he raised his arms heavenwards. Here we go again. Check it
out: no meat, no smoking, no gambling, no sex, no loud music, no bright
lights, no dancing, no fucking fun.

Im going down to Ketton, Stephanie said, overriding the pair of them.
She started to walk down the slope, her hand holding on to Moyos
fingers. If anyone else wants to come, youd better do it now.

Im with you, Moyo said. He moved his feet along cautiously. Rana
shrugged lightly, and started to follow. A reefer slid up out of
Cochranes fist and the tip ignited. He stuck it in his mouth and went
after Rana.

Sod it! Franklin said wretchedly. All right. But were giving up by
going down there. Therell be no way out of that town.

You cant keep ahead of them up here, McPhee said. Look at the
bastards. Its like they can walk on mud.

All right, all right.

Tina gave Rana a desperate look. Darling, those things will simply
demolish the town. And well be in it.

Maybe. Who knows? The military always makes ludicrously extravagant
propaganda claims about their macho prowess. Reality invariably lags
behind.

Yo, Tina. Cochrane proffered the reefer. Come with us, babe. You and
me, we could like have our last night on this world together. Fucking-A
way to go, huh?

Tina shuddered at the grinning hippie. Id rather be captured by those
beastly things.

Thats a no, is it?

No it is not. I dont want us to split up. Youre my friends.

Stephanie had turned to watch the little scene. Tina, make up your
mind. She started off down the slope again, leading Moyo.

Oh heavens, Tina said. You simply never give me time to decide
anything. Its so unfair.

Bye, doll, Cochrane said.

Dont go so fast. I cant keep up.

Stephanie made a deliberate effort to expel the womans whining from her
mind. Concentrating solely on navigating her way down the slope. She had
to take quite a shallow angle, constantly reinforcing the slippery soil
below her boot soles with energistic power. Even then her progress was
marked by long skid marks.

I can sense a lot of possessed below us, Moyo said when they were a
hundred yards above the quagmires of the valley floor.

Where? Stephanie asked without thinking. She hadnt been paying
attention to what waited below, traversing the tricky slope required her
complete attention. Now she looked up, she could see the convoy of jeeps
was barely a mile behind them. The sight gave her heart a cold squeeze.

Not far. His free hand pointed out across the valley. Over there.

Stephanie couldnt see anyone. But now she scrutinized the mental
whispers around the edge of her perception she was aware of rising
anticipation in many minds.

Hey, Moyo, man, good call. Cochrane was scanning the valley. Those
cats are like low in the mud. I cant see anyone.

Come on, Stephanie said. Lets find out whats happening.

The last section of the slope started to flatten out, allowing them to
increase their speed. Stephanie was tempted just to keep to the
undulating foothills that ran along the valley wall. They could certainly
make good time on the reasonably dry ground. Except it curved gradually
away from Ketton. One of the visible sections of road was about three
hundred yards away across a perfectly flat expanse of slough. Stephanie
stood on the edge, mud oozing round her ankles. Her boots kept her feet
dry, but as a precaution she made the leather creep up her shins towards
her knees. The silence down here was unnerving, it was as if the mud had
some kind of anti-sound property. I dont think its very deep, she
ventured.

One way to find out, McPhee said vigorously. He struck out for the road
with confident strides. Mud sloshed away slowly from his legs as he
ploughed across. Come on, ye great bunch of woofters. Its not like we
can drown. Cochrane and Rana gave each other a reluctant glance, then
started in.

Its going to be all right, Stephanie said. She kept a tight grip on
Moyos hand, and they waded in together. Tina held on to Franklins hand
as they went in. The action drew a lecherous grin from Cochrane.

Stephanie was right about it not being particularly deep, but the mud was
soon up to her knees. After a couple of attempts to clear a trench
through it with her energistic power, she gave up. The mud responded so
sluggishly it would have taken at least an hour for them to reach the
road by such a method. This had to be crossed the hard way, and the level
of exertion needed to keep going placed a terrible strain on already
fatigued muscles. All of them diverted their energistic power to force
recalcitrant legs forward against mud that seemed to exert an equal
pressure against them. Their efforts were given an extra edge by the
onward march of the army. They were travelling almost at right angles to
the front line, losing precious separation distance with every minute.

Stephanie kept telling herself that as soon as they made the road theyd
be able to build it back up again. But even using the road, there was a
lot of mud to surmount before Ketton, and her body was already
approaching its physical limit. She could hear Cochrane wheezing loudly,
a sound which carried a long way over the quagmire.

Theyre right ahead of us now, Moyo said. Hed opened the front of his
oilskin jacket in an attempt to cool himself. The drizzle was seeping
through his energistic barrier, combining with sweat to soak his shirt.
Two of them. And theyre not happy with us.

Stephanie glanced up, trying to distinguish the source of the animus
thoughts. The slight rise carrying the road was seventy yards in front.
Badly mangled grass and a few straggly bushes gleaming dully in the
grizzly skin of rainwater. Dozens of ferrangs were pelting about
excitedly, running together in packs of six or seven. Their cohesive
motion reminded her of fish schools, every movement enacted in unison.

I cant see anyone, McPhee grunted. Hey, shitheads, he shouted. What
the fuck is wrong with you?

Oh groovy, Cochrane said. Way to go, dude. Thatll make them real
friendly. I mean its not like were in cosmically deep shit at this
point and need help, or anything.

Tina let out a miserable gasp as she slipped. I hate this fucking mud!

You tell it as it is, babe. Franklin helped her up, and the two of them
leant against each other as they forced their way onwards. Stephanie
glanced back down the length of Catmos Vale, and sucked in a fast breath.
The jeeps were barely half a mile away. Fifty yards to solid ground.

Were not going to make it.

What? Moyo asked.

Were not going to make it. She was panting heavily now. Not bothering
with clothes, appearance, any energistic fripperyeven the satellites
would be able to see her now. She didnt care. All that mattered was
maintaining the integrity of her boots and shoving near-useless legs one
in front of the other. Muscle spasms were shaking her calves and thighs.

Rana stumbled, falling to her knees. Mud squelched obscenely as it closed
over her legs. She blew heavily, her face radiant, glistening with sweat.
Cochrane sloshed over and put his arm under her shoulders, dragging her
up. The glutinous mud was reluctant to let go. Hey, man, give me a hand
here, he yelled at the land ahead. Come on, you guys, quit fooling
around. This is like bigtime serious.

The ferrang packs dodged round each other as they wheeled about
aimlessly. Whoever the people were up ahead, they chose not to reveal
themselves. A slight single-tone mechanical whine was becoming audible.
The jeep engines.

Get me to her, Moyo hissed.

He and Stephanie staggered over to the faltering couple. McPhee had come
to a halt twenty yards from the land, staring back at them. Keep going,
Stephanie yelled at him. Go on. Somebodys got to get out of this.

With her help, Moyo took some of Ranas weight from Cochrane. They slung
her between them, and kicked their way forward again. My legs, Rana
groaned miserably. I cant keep them going. Theyre like fire. God damn
it, this shouldnt happen, I can move mountains with my mind.

No matter, Cochrane said through gritted teeth. We got you now,
sister. The three of them stumbled forwards. McPhee had reached the
land, standing just above the mud to urge them on. Tina and Franklin were
almost there. The pair of them were plainly exhausted. Only the big Scot
seemed to have any stamina left.

Stephanie brought up the rear. The jeeps were seven hundred yards away
now, on a stretch of dry road. Picking up speed. Shit, she whispered.
Oh shit oh shit. Even if McPhee started sprinting right now, hed never
make it to Ketton; theyd overhaul him easily. Perhaps if the rest of
them started flinging white fire at the serjeants . . . What a ridiculous
thought, she told herself. And I dont have any to spare. I must focus on
channelling my energistic power.

Ten yards to go.

I wont put up a fight. It wouldnt be the slightest good, and it might
damage the body. I owe her that much.

At the heart of her mind she could feel the captive host stirring in
anticipation. All four of them staggered up out of the mud, and simply
collapsed on the soggy ground next to Tina and Franklin. And she still
couldnt see the owners of the two minds impinging so strongly on her
perception.

Stephanie Ash, a womans voice said from the empty air. I see your
timing is as fucking atrocious as always.

Any second now, an unseen man announced.

Both of their minds were hot with eagerness. Somewhere nearby, the
slow-motion wheeze of bagpipes started up, swirling to a level piercing
tone. Stephanie raised her head. Halfway between her and the jeeps, a
lone Scottish piper stood facing the vehicles. Dressed in a kilt of
Douglas tartan, black leather boots shining, he seemed totally oblivious
of the mortal foe riding towards him. His fingers moved sedately as he
played Amazing Grace. One of the serjeants in the front vehicle was
standing up to get a clear look in over the mud-caked windscreen.

I like it, McPhee hooted.

Our call to arms, the concealed man replied. It has a certain je ne
sais quoi, no?

Stephanie glanced round urgently, trying to pin down the voice. Call to
arms?

An explosion sounded in the distance, rumbling fast over the quagmires
and stagnant pools smothering Catmos Vale. A mine had detonated under the
leading jeep, punching the front of the chassis into the air. It crashed
down, spilling serjeants across the road. Blue white smoke billowed out
from the crater in the concrete. Lumps of debris rained down. The other
jeeps braked sharply. Serjeants froze all along the front line, crouching
down.

The piper finished, and bowed solemnly at his enemies. There was a dull,
potent thock, loud enough to quiver Stephanies gullet. Then another. A
whole barrage started up, the individual thumps merging into a single
soundwave. Tina squealed in fright.

Ho shit, Cochrane growled. Those are mortars.

Well done, said the woman. Now keep down.

It was, the Liberations coordinating AI acknowledged, a classic ambush,
and executed perfectly. The jeeps were confined to one of the narrowest
strips of land in the valley, unable to veer away. A sleet of mortar
shells fell upon them, ranged precisely. High explosives detonated in a
near constant bombardment, pulverizing the stalled vehicles, and
shredding the serjeants riding them. Smoke, flame, and spumes of
superfine mud belched out, obliterating the carnage from view.

The AI could do absolutely nothing to prevent it. Radar pulses from the
SD sensor satellites swept the length of the valley, but they required
several seconds to acquire lock on. The first bombardment lasted for
ninety seconds, then the mortar operators switched to airburst shells,
and changed elevation. Dense black clouds burst open above the line of
serjeants as they toiled desperately through the quagmire. Broad circles
of mud erupted into cyclones of beige foam as the shrapnel slashed down,
obliterating the struggling figures.

Only then did the SD radars finish backtracking the mortar trajectories.
The AI launched its counterstrike. Incandescent scarlet beams stabbed
down in retaliation, vaporising the possessed and their weapons in
micro-seconds. Over a dozen patches of dry land were targeted. Supersonic
torrents of steam flared out from the base of each impact. When they
gusted away, the mortar sites had been reduced to shallow craters of
hardbaked clay, their centres still radiant. They chittered softly as the
drizzle fell, prizing open millions of tiny heat stress fractures.

The empty silence returned. Swirls of smoke drifted over the valley
floor, dissipating slowly to reveal the burning wrecks of the jeeps.
Spread out across the quagmire, the ruptured bodies of the serjeants were
gradually claimed by the muds tireless embrace. Within an hour, there
would be little left to hint at the conflict.

Stephanie found herself clawing into the soft soil, every muscle locked
solid to resist the laser pulse. It never came. She let out a wretched
sob, surrendering to the severe shaking that claimed her limbs. Two of
the ferrang packs crept towards Stephanie and her friends. They dissolved
into a pair of human figures dressed in dark grey and green combat
fatigues. Annette Ekelund and Soi Hon looked down at them with anger and
contempt.

You idiots could have got us blown back into the beyond by blundering
about like that, Annette said. What if dear Ralph considered you to be
part of this operation? They would have zeroed this patch of ground for
sure.

Cochrane lifted his head, mud dribbling down his face to saturate his
wild beard. His dead reefer was squashed against his lips. He spat it
out. Well like fuck me gently with a chainsaw, sister. Im real sorry to
cause you any inconvenience.



Not even Lalondes oppressive climate prepared Ralph for the awesome
humidity when he stepped out of the Royal Marine hypersonic transport
plane. It prickled his skin at the same time as it siphoned away vital
body energies. Just breathing it in was exhausting.

With the last strands of cloud at last gusting out to sea, the tropical
sun could finally exert its full strength against poor malaised
Mortonridge. Thousands of square kilometres of mud began to effervesce,
thickening the air with hot cloying vapour. Looking round from the top of
the airstair, Ralph could see long ribbons of tenuous white cloud flowing
with oily tenacity around the hummocks and foothills of the broad valley.
More mist was percolating up from the highlands on either side, with long
snow-white streamers spilling out through clefts in the valley walls to
slither down the slope like slow-motion waterfalls.

He sniffed at the air. Threaded through the blanket of clean moisture
were the traces of corruption. The peninsulas dead biomass was starting
to rot and ferment. In another few days the stench would be formidable,
and no doubt extremely unhealthy. One more factor to consider. Though it
was a long way down on the priority list.

Ralph hurried down the aluminium stairs, with Brigadier Palmer and Cathal
just behind him. For once there was no Marine detail waiting to guard
him. Theyd landed outside the staging camp established in the mouth of
Catmos Vale. Hundreds of programmable silicon igloos had sprung up in
rows like giant powder-blue mushrooms, a miniature recreation of Fort
Forward. The only people here were serjeants, occupation troops, and
medical case de-possessed. Plus a handful of rover reporters; all
officially authorized Liberation correspondents, with a pair of Royal
Marine information officers shepherding them.

When he looked up the valley, the loose smears of mist blurred into a
single featureless white sheet carpeting the floor. His enhanced retinas
zoomed in on the only visible feature, the slim greyish spire of Kettons
church rising out of the mist. Just by looking at it, Ralph could sense
the possessed mustering in the town, a replay of the gentle mental
pressure theyd all known in the days of the red cloud.

Shes here, he murmured. The Ekelund woman. Shes in Ketton.

Are you sure? Cathal asked.

I can feel her, just like before. In any case, shes one of their
leaders, and this bunch are well organized. Cathal gave the distant
spire a dubious glance.

The camps commander, Colonel Anton Longhurst, was waiting at the bottom
of the airstairs. He saluted Ralph. Welcome to Catmos Vale, sir.

Thank you, Colonel. Looks like youve got yourself an interesting
command here.

Yes, sir. Ill show you round. Thats after . . . he indicated the
reporters.

Ah yes. Ralph kept his ire under control. Theyd probably all be using
audio discrimination programs, the bastards never missed a trick.

The information officers signalled the all clear, and the rover reporters
closed in. General Hiltch, Hugh Rosler with DataAxis; can you please
tell us why the front line has stalled?

Ralph gave a wan, knowing smile to the plain-looking man in a check shirt
and sleeveless jacket whod asked the question. An in-your-face
transmission of the cordial public persona hed developed and deployed
for the last few weeks. Oh come on, guys. Were consolidating the ground
weve already recovered. Theres a lot more to the Liberation than just
rushing forward at breakneck pace. We have to be sure, and I mean
absolutely sure, that none of the possessed has managed to sneak through.
Dont forget, it was just one possessed who got into Mortonridge that was
responsible for this in the first place. You dont want a repeat of that,
do you?

General, Tim Beard, Collins; is it true the serjeants simply cant hack
it anymore now that the possessed have started to put up real resistance?

No, it is categorically not true. And if you show me the person who said
that, Ill give them a personal and private demonstration of my contempt
for such a remark. I flew in here today, and you people drove in from the
coast. He waved a hand back at the mud-covered land. They walked the
whole way from the beaches, engaged in tens of thousands of separate
combat incidents. And on the way theyve rescued nearly three hundred
thousand people from possession. Now does that really sound as though
they cant hack it to you, because it doesnt to me.

So why isnt the front line continuing its advance?

Because weve reached a new stage of the campaign. Forgive me for not
broadcasting our gameplan before, but this kind of reinforcement
manoeuvre was inevitable. As you can see, weve reached Ketton, which has
a large number of well organized and hostile possessed in residenceand
this is just one of several such assemblies around Mortonridge. The army
is simply redeploying accordingly. When we have sufficient resources
assembled, then the serjeants will take the town. But I have no intention
of committing them until Im convinced such an operation can be achieved
with the minimum of loss on both sides. Thank you. He started to walk
forwards.

General, Elizabeth Mitchell, Time Warner; one final question, please.
Her voice was authoritative and insistent, impossible to ignore. Have
you got any comment about the defeat in the valley?

Trust the owner of that voice to ask something hed really rather avoid,
Ralph thought. Yes, I have. In hindsight advancing down Catmos Vale so
fast was a tactical error, a very bad one; and I take full responsibility
for that. Although we knew the possessed are equipped with hunting rifles
we werent expecting them to have artillery. Mortars are about the
crudest kind of artillery its possible to build; but even so, very
effective given certain situations. This was one of them. Now we know
what the possessed are capable of, it wont happen again. Every time they
use a new weapon or tactic against us, we can analyse it and guard
against it in future. And there are only a very limited number of these
moves they can play. He moved on again, more determined this time. A
fast datavise to the two information officers, and there were no more
shouted questions.

Sorry about them, Colonel Longhurst said.

Not a problem for me, Ralph replied.

You shouldnt play up to scenes like that, Cathal said in annoyance as
they made their way to the camps headquarters. Its undignified. At
least you could hold a proper press conference with vetted questions.

This is as much propaganda as it is physical war, Cathal, Ralph said.
Besides, youre still thinking like an ESA officer: tell nobody, and
tell them nothing. The public wants to see authority in action on this
campaign. We have to provide that.

Convoys of supply trucks were still arriving at the camp, Colonel
Longford explained as he took them on an inspection tour. The Royal
Marine engineering squads had little trouble securing the programmable
silicon igloos; this section of land was several metres above the mud of
the valley floor. But there were logistics problems with supplying the
troops.

Its taking the trucks fifteen hours to get here from the coast, he
said. The engineers have virtually had to rebuild the damn road as they
went along. Even now there are some sections that are just lines of
marker beacons in the mud.

I cant do anything about the mud, Ralph said. Believe me, weve
tried. Solidifying chemicals, SD lasers to bake it; theyre no good on
the kind of scale were dealing with here.

What we really need is air support. You flew out here.

This was the first inland flight, Janne Palmer said. And your landing
field could barely accommodate the hypersonic. Youll never be able to
handle cargo planes.

Theres plenty of clear high ground nearby, we can build a link road.

Ill look into authorizing it, Ralph said. We should certainly
consider flying in the serjeants ready for the assault on the town.

Appreciate that, the colonel said. Things out here are a little
different than the AI says they should be.

Thats one of the reasons Im here, to see how youre coping.

We are now. It was bedlam the first day. Could certainly have done with
the planes to evac the injured and the depossessed out. That ride back to
the coast isnt doing them any good.

They came to the big oval hall where Elana Duncan and her team had set up
shop. The massive boosted mercenary greeted Ralph with a casual salute of
her arm, clicking her claws together. Not much ceremony in here,
General, she said. Were rather too crowded for that right now. Go see
whatever you want, but dont bother my people, please, theyre kind of
busy right now.

Ten zero-tau pods were lined up down the centre of the hall, all of them
active. The big machines with their thick power cables and compact mosaic
of components looked strangely out of place. Or it could be out of era,
Ralph acknowledged. The rest of the hall was given over to cots for the
serjeants, a field hospital whose primitiveness dismayed him. Elanas
mercenaries were carrying large plastic bottles and rolls of disposable
paper towels, doing their rounds along the dark bitek constructs. There
was a strong chemical smell in the air which Ralph couldnt place. He had
some distant memory of it, but certainly not one indexed by his neural
nanonics, nor a didactic memoryalthough they were notoriously inaccurate
when it came to imparting smells.

Ralph went over to the first serjeant. The construct was sucking quietly
at the tube of a clear polythene bag containing its nutrient syrup, a
liquid like thin honey. Did you get hit by the mortars?

No, General, Sinon said. I wasnt here for the Catmos Vale incident. I
am, I believe, one of the lucky ones. I have participated in six assaults
which resulted in a possessed being captured, and received only minor
injuries during the course of those actions. Unfortunately, that means I
have walked the whole way here from the coast.

So what happened?

Moisture exposure, General. Impossible to avoid, Im afraid. As I said,
I was slightly injured previously, resulting in small cracks within my
exoskeleton. Although they are not in themselves dangerous, such hairline
fissures are ideal anchorages for several varieties of aboriginal fungal
spores. He indicated his legs.

Now that he knew what he was looking for, Ralph could see the long
lead-grey blotches crisscrossing round the serjeants lower limbs; they
were slightly fuzzy, like thin velvet. When he glanced along the row of
cots, he could see some serjeants where the fungus was full grown,
smothering their legs in a thick furry carpet, like soggy coral.

My God. Does that . . .

Hurt? Sinon enquired. Oh no. Please dont be concerned, General. I
dont feel pain, as such. I am aware of the funguss presence, of course.
It does itch rather unpleasantly. The major problem is derived from its
effect on my blood chemistry. If left unchecked the fungus would extrude
a quantity of toxins that my organs will be unable to filter out.

Is there a treatment?

Funnily enough, yes. An alcohol rub to eradicate the bulk of the fungus,
followed with iodine, appears to be effective in eliminating the growth.
Of course, further exposure to these conditions will probably reintroduce
the spores, especially as they appear to thrive in this current humidity.

Iodine, Ralph said. I thought I knew that smell. Some of the Church
clinics on Lalonde used the stuff. The incongruity of the situation was
starting to nag at him. He could hardly be playing the role of older
officer giving comfort to a young trooper. If Sinon followed usual
Edenist lines, he must have been at least a hundred and fifty when he
died. Older than Ralphs grandfather.

Ah, Lalonde. I never visited. I used to be a voidhawk crew member.

You were lucky; I was posted there for years.

Somebody started wailing, a piteous gasping cry of bitterness. Ralph
looked up to see a couple of the boosted mercenaries helping a man out of
a zero-tau pod. He was wrapped in tattered grey clothes, almost
indistinguishable from the folds of pale vein-laced flesh drooping from
his frame. It was as if his skin had started to melt off him.

Aww shit, Elana Duncan snapped. Excuse me, General, looks like weve
got another crash course anorexic. She hurried over to help her
colleagues. Okay, lets gets some protein infusers on him pronto. The
de-possessed man was puking a thin greenish liquid on the floor, an
action which was almost choking him.

Come on, Ralph said. Were just in the way here. He led the others
out of the hall; ashamed that the most helpful thing he personally could
do was run away.



Stephanie went out on to the narrow balcony and sat in one of the
cushioned deck chairs next to Moyo. From there she could look both ways
along Kettons high street where squads of Ekelunds guerrilla army
marched about. All signs of the mud deluge had been ruthlessly eradicated
from the town, producing a pristine vision of urban prosperity. Even the
tall scarlet trees lining the streets and central park were in good
health, sprouting a thick frost of topaz flowers.

They had been billeted in a lovely mock-Georgian town house, with orange
brick walls and carved white stone window lintels. The iron-railed
balcony ran along the front, woven with branches of blue and white
wisteria. It was one of a whole terrace of beautiful buildings just
outside the central retail sector. They shared it with a couple of army
squads. Not quite house arrest, but they were certainly discouraged from
wandering round and interfering. Much to Cochranes disgust.

But Ekelund and her ultra-loyalists controlled the towns diminishing
food supply, and with that came the power to write the rules.

I hate it here, Moyo said. He was slumped down almost horizontally in
his chair, sipping a margarita. Four empty glasses were already lined up
on the low table beside him, their salt rims melting in the condensation.
The whole place is wrong, a phoney. Cant you sense the atmosphere?

I know what you mean. She watched the men and women thronging the road
below. It was the same story all over Ketton. The army gearing up to
defend the town from the serjeants massing outside. Fortifications were
first conceived as ghostly sketches in the air, and then made real by an
application of energistic strength. Small factories around the outskirts
had been placed under Delvans command. He had his engineers working
round the clock to churn out weapons. Everybody here moved with a
purpose. And by doing so, they gave each other confidence in their joint
cause.

This is fascist efficiency, she said. Everybody beavering away as
theyre told for her benefit, not their own. Theres going to be so much
destruction here when the serjeants come in. And its all so pointless.

His hand wavered in the air until he found her arm. Then he gripped
tight. Its human nature, darling. Theyre afraid, and shes tapped into
that. The alternative to putting up a fight is total surrender. Theyre
not going to go for that. We didnt go for that.

But the only reason theyre in this position is because of her. And we
werent going to fight. I wasnt.

He took a large drink. Ah, forget about it. Another twenty-four hours,
and it wont matter any more.

Stephanie plucked the margarita from his hand and set it down on the
table. Enough of that. Weve rested here quite long enough. Time we were
moving on.

Ha! You must be drunker than me. Were surrounded. I know that, and Im
fucking blind. Theres no way out.

Come on. She took his hand and pulled him up from the chair.

Muttering and complaining, Moyo allowed himself to be led inside. McPhee
and Rana were in the lounge, sitting round a circular walnut table with a
chess game in front of them. Cochrane was sprawled along a settee,
surrounded by a haze of smoke from his reefer. A set of bulky black and
gold headphones were clamped over his ears, buzzing loudly as he listened
to a Grateful Dead album. Tina and Franklin came in from one of the
bedrooms when they were called. Cochrane chortled delightedly at the
sight of Franklin tucking his shirt in. He only stopped at that because
Stephanie caught his eye.

Im going to try and get out, Stephanie told them.

Interesting objective, Rana said. Unfortunately, la Ekelund is holding
all the cards, not to mention the food. Shes hardly given us enough to
live on, let alone build our strength back to a level where we can
contemplate hiking through the mud again.

I know that. But if we stay in the town were going to get captured by
the serjeants for sure. Thats if we survive the assault. Both sides are
upping their weapons hardware by an alarming degree.

I told you this would happen, Tina said. I said we should have stayed
above the valley. But none of you listened.

So whats the plan? Franklin asked.

I havent got one, Stephanie said. I just want to change the odds,
thats all. The serjeants are about five miles away from the outskirts.
That leaves a lot of land between us and them.

So? McPhee asked.

We can use that space. It certainly improves our chances from staying
here. Maybe we can sneak through the line in all the confusion when they
advance. We could try disguising ourselves as kolfrans; or we could hide
out somewhere until they pass by us. Its got to be worth a try.

A non-aggressive evasion policy, Rana said thoughtfully. Im certainly
with you on that.

No way, McPhee said. Look, Im sorry Stephanie, but weve seen the way
the serjeants move forwards. You couldnt slide a gnat between them. And
that was before the mortar attack. Theyre wise to us using the ferrangs
as camouflage now. If we go out there, were just going to be the first
to be de-possessed.

No, no, wait a minute, Cochrane said. He swung his feet off the settee
and walked over to the table. Our funky sister might be on to something
here.

Thanks, Stephanie grunted sarcastically.

Listen, you cats. The black hats and their UFOs are like scoping the
ground out with microscopes, right? So if we like cooperate with each
other and dig ourselves a nice cozy bunker out in the wilderness, we
could sit tight down there until theyve invaded the town and moved off.

Several surprised looks were passed round. It could work, Franklin
said. Hot damn!

Hey, am I like the man, or what?

Tina sneered. Definitely a what.



I keep expecting to be asked for my ident disk, Rana said as the seven
of them walked down Kettons main street.

They were the only people not wearing military fatigues. Ekelunds army
gave them suspicious glances as they passed by. Cochranes tinkling bells
and cheery, insulting waves didnt contribute to making them
inconspicuous. When they walked out of the house, Stephanie considered
junking her dress and adopting the same jungle combat gear style. Then
she thought to hell with that. Im not hiding my true self anymore. Not
after what Ive been through. I have a right to be me.

Near the outskirts, the road led between two rows of houses. Nothing as
elaborate as the Georgian town house, but comfortably middle-class. The
barrier between town and country was drawn by a deep vertical-walled
ditch, with thick iron spikes driven into the soil along the top. Some
kind of sludge trickled along the bottom of the trench, stinking of
petrol. The arrangement wasnt terribly practical, it was more a
statement than a physical danger.

Annette Ekelund was waiting for them, lounging casually against one of
the big spikes. Several dozen of her army were ranged beside her.
Stephanie was quite sure the hulking guns they had slung over their
shoulders would be impossible to lift without energistic power fortifying
their muscles. Three-day stubble seemed compulsory for the men, and
everyone wore ragged sweatbands.

You know, Im getting a bad case of dj vu here, Annette said with
ersatz pleasantry. Except this time you havent got a good cause to tug
my heartstrings. In fact, this is pretty close to treachery.

Youre not a government, Stephanie said. We dont have loyalties.

Wrong. I am the authority here. And you do have obligations. I saved
your pathetic little arse, and all these sad bunch of losers you have
trailing round with you. I took you in, protected you, and fed you. Now I
think that entitles me to a little loyalty, dont you?

Im not going to argue this with you. We dont want to fight. We wont
fight. That gives you three choices, you either kill us here on the spot,
imprison us which will take up valuable manpower, or let us go free.
Thats the only issue, here.

Well thats actually only two choices then, isnt it? Because Im not
diverting anybody from their assigned duty to watch over ingrate shits
like you.

Fine, then make your choice.

Annette shook her head, genuinely puzzled. I dont get you, Stephanie, I
really dont. I mean, where the fuck do you think youre going to go?
They do have us surrounded, you know. An hour walking down that road, and
youre straight into zero-tau. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred
dollars. And you will never ever get out of jail again for the rest of
time.

We might be able to dodge them in open ground.

Thats it? Thats your whole game plan? Stephanie, thats pitiful even
for you.

Stephanie pressed closer to Moyo, unnerved by the level of animosity
running free in Annettes thoughts. So whats your alternative?

We fight for our right to exist. Its what people have been doing for a
very long time. If you werent such a small-town imbecile youd see that
nothing easy ever comes free; life is cash on delivery.

Im sure it is, but you havent answered my question. You know youre
going to lose, whats the point in fighting?

Let me explain, Soi Hon said. Annette flashed him a look of pure anger,
then nodded permission.

The purpose of our action is to inflict unacceptable losses on the
enemy, Soi Hon said. The serjeants are almost unstoppable here on the
ground, but the political structure behind them is susceptible to a great
many forces. We might not win this battle, but our cause will ultimately
triumph. That triumph will come sooner once the Confederation leadership
is forced to retreat from ventures like this absurd Liberation. Their
victory must be as costly as we can make it. I ask you to reconsider your
decision to leave us. With your help, the time we have to spend in the
beyond will be reduced by a considerable margin. Just think, the serjeant
you exterminate today may well be the one that breaks the camels back.

You lived before Edenism matured, didnt you? Moyo asked.

The habitat Eden was germinated while I was alive. I didnt survive long
after that.

Then I have to tell you, what youre talking is total bullshit. The
political ideologies youre basing your justifications on are centuries
out of datejust like all of us. Edenism has a resolution which is
frightening in its totality.

All human resolve can be broken in the end.

Moyo turned his perfect, unseeing eyes to Stephanie, and twisted his lips
in a humble grimace. Were doomed. You cant reason with a psychopath
and a demented ideologue.

You should tell your boyfriend to watch his lip, Annette said.

Or what? Moyo laughed. You said it, psycho mamma, you told Ralph
Hiltch all those weeks ago: the possessed dont lose. It doesnt matter
how many bodies of mine you blast away. I will always be back. Learn to
live with me, because you can never escape. For all of eternity you have
to listen to me whining on and on and on and on . . . How do you like
that, you dumb motherfucker?

Enough. Stephanie patted his shoulder in warning. He couldnt see
Annettes expression, but hed be able to sense her darkening thoughts.
Look, were just going to go, all right.

Annette turned and spat into the trench. You know whats down there? Its
something called napalm. Soi Hon told us about it, and Milne made up the
formula. Theres tons of the stuff; lying down there, in squirt bombs,
loaded into flame throwers. So when the serjeants come over, its going
to be barbecue time. And thats just this section. Weve got a shitload
of grief rigged up for them around this town. Every street they walk down
is going to cost them in bodies. Hell, were even running a sweepstake,
see how many we can take with us.

I hope you win.

The point is, Stephanie, if you leave now, you dont come back. I mean
that. If you desert us, your own kind, then youre our enemy just as much
as the non-possessed are. Youre going to be trapped out there between
the serjeants and me. Theyll shove you into zero-tau, Ill have you
strung up on a crucifix and fried. So you see, its not me that makes the
choices. In the end, its down to you.

Stephanie gave her a sad smile. I choose to leave.

You stupid bitch. For a moment, Stephanie thought the woman was going
to launch a bolt of white fire straight at her. Annette was fighting very
hard to control her fury.

Okay, she snapped. Get out. Now.

Praying that Cochrane would keep his mouth shut, Stephanie tugged Moyo
gently. Use one of the spikes, she murmured to McPhee and Rana. They
both began to concentrate. The nearest spike started to droop, lowering
itself like a drawbridge across a moat. When its tip touched the other
side, the metal flattened out, producing a narrow walkway.

Tina was over first; shaking and subdued at the naked hostility radiating
from Ekelund and imitated by her troops. Franklin guided Moyo over.
Stephanie waited until the other three were on the far side before using
it herself. When she turned round, Annette was already marching back down
the road into Ketton. Soi Hon and a couple of others walked behind her,
taking care not to come too close. The remaining troops stared hard over
the trench. Several of them primed the pump action mechanism on their
guns.

Yo, nooo problem, dudes, Cochrane crooned anxiously. Were outta here.
Like yesterday.



It was midday, the sun blazed down on them like a visible X-ray laser,
and the mist had gone long ago. Three miles ahead, the rumpled foothills
of the valley wall rose up out of the sluggish quagmires. The serjeants
were strung out across the slopes, forming a solid line of dark blobs
standing almost shoulder to shoulder. Larger groups were arranged at
intervals behind the front line, reserves ready to assist with any sign
of resistance.

A couple of miles behind, the air shimmered silver, twisting lightbeams
giddily around Ketton. Dry mud creaked and crumbled under their feet as
they tramped along the gently undulating road. They werent going
particularly fast. It wasnt just hunger draining their bodies. Apathy
was coming on strong.

Oh hell, Stephanie said abruptly. Look, Im sorry.

What for? McPhee asked. There was bravado in his voice, but not his
thoughts.

Oh come on! She stopped and flung her arms out, turning full circle on
a heel. I was wrong. Look at this place. Were snowflakes heading
straight for hell.

McPhee gave a grudging look around the flat, featureless valley floor.
During the few days theyd rested in Ketton the mud had claimed just
about every fallen tree and bush. Even the long pools between the
quagmires were evaporating away. Not much in the way of ground cover,
granted.

She gave the big Scot an admonitory stare. Youre very sweet, and Im
really glad that youre with me. But I goofed. Theres no way we can
avoid the serjeants out here. And I do think Ekelund was serious when she
said we wouldnt be allowed back in.

Yeah, Cochrane said. Thats the impression I got, too. You know, that
bug is shoved so far up, its going to be flapping its way out of her
mouth any day now.

I dont understand, Tina said miserably. Why dont we just stick to
Cochranes original idea, and dig in?

The satellites can see us, lass, McPhee said. Aye, they dont know how
many of us there are, exactly, or what were doing. But they know where
we are. If we stop moving and suddenly vanish, then the serjeants will
come and investigate. Theyll realize what weve done and excavate us.

We could split up, Franklin said. If we walk about at random and keep
crossing each others tracks, then one or two of us could vanish without
them realizing. Itd be like a giant-sized version of the shell game.

But I dont want us to split up, Tina said.

Were not splitting up, Stephanie told her. Weve been through too
much together for that. I say we face them together with dignity and
pride. We have nothing to be ashamed of. Theyre the ones who have
failed. That huge, wonderful society with all its resources, and all it
can do is fall back on violence instead of trying to find an equitable
solution for all of us. Theyve lost, not us.

Tina sniffed, and dabbed at her eyes with a small handkerchief. You say
the most beautiful things.

Certainly do, sister.

Ill face the serjeants with you, Stephanie, McPhee said. But it might
be a good idea to get off this road first. Ill give you good odds our
friends behind have got it in their mortar sights.



Ralph waited until there were twenty-three thousand serjeants deployed at
Catmos Vale before giving the go ahead to take the town. The AI estimated
at least eight thousand possessed were trapped inside Ketton. He wasnt
going to be responsible for unleashing a massacre. There would be enough
serjeants to overcome whatever lay ahead.

As soon as the first mortar attack had finished, the AI had pulled the
front line back. Then the flanks, up in the high ground above the valley,
had been directed forwards again. By the time the sun fell, Ketton was
surrounded. To start with, the circle was simply there to prevent
individual possessed from trying to sneak out. Any large group that tried
their luck would be warned off with SD lasers in a repeat of the
firebreak protocol across the neck of the peninsula.

Very few did attempt to run the gauntlet. Whatever method of discipline
Ekelund was using to keep her people in check, it was impressive. The
perimeter was progressively reinforced as planes and trucks brought in
fresh squads. Occupation forces were also assembled and dispatched around
the front line, ready to handle the captured possessed. Medical
facilities were organized to cope with the predicted influx of new,
unhealthy bodies (though shortages of equipment and qualified personnel
were still acute). The AI had exhaustively analysed every possible weapon
from history which the possessed could have constructed, and computed
appropriate counter-measures.

Ralph was quietly pleased to see that the simplest policy was amongst the
oldest: the best defence is a good offence. He might not be able to
employ saturation bombardment against the town, or melt it down into the
bedrock. But he could certainly rattle the doors of Ekelunds precious
sanctum, a quite severe rattling, in fact. Quake them, he datavised.

Two thousand kilometres above Ombey, a lone voidhawk began its deployment
swoop.

Ralph waited beside the rectangular headquarters building with Acacia and
Janne Palmer standing beside him. They all stared along Catmos Vale at
the sliver of dense mangled air at the far end which marked the town.
Maybe he should have been back at the Fort Forward Ops Room, but after
visiting the camp he realized how restricted and isolated he was sitting
in his office. Out here, at least he had the illusion of being involved.



It was one of the larger patches of land above the lagoons and mires that
cluttered the valley floor. Plenty of aboriginal grass poked up through
the solidifying cloak of mud, as yet untrampled by animals. There were
even some trees surviving near the centre; theyd fallen down, their
lower branches stabbing into the soft ground; but the trunks were held
off the ground, and their battered leaves were slowly twisting to face
the sky.

Stephanie made her way over to them, putting the road a quarter of a mile
behind her. The ground around the sagging boughs was deeply wrinkled,
producing dozens of small meandering pools of brackish water. She
threaded her way through them, into the small dapple of shade thrown by
the leaves, and sank down with a heavy sigh. The others sat down around
her, equally relieved to be off their feet.

Im amazed we didnt step on a mine, Moyo said. Ekelund must have
rigged that road. Its too tempting not to.

Hey guys, lets like turn her into an unperson, please, Cochrane said.
I dont want to spend my last remaining hours in this body talking about
that bitch.

Rana leant back against a tree trunk, closed her eyes and smiled. Well
well, we finally agree on something.

I wonder if we get a chance to talk to the reporters, McPhee said.
Theres bound to be some covering the attack.

Peculiar last wish, Rana said. Any particular reason?

I still have some family left alive on Orkney. Three kids. Id like to .
. . I dont know. Tell them Im all right I suppose. What Id really like
to do is see them again.

Nice thought, Franklin said. Maybe the serjeants will let you record a
message, especially if we cooperate with them.

What about you? Stephanie asked.

Id go traditional, Franklin said. A meal. You see, I used to like
eating, trying new stuff, but I never really had much money. So, Ive
done most everything else I want to. Id have the best delicacies the
universe can offer, cooked by the finest chef in the Confederation, and
Norfolk Tears to go with it.

Mines easy, Cochrane said. Thats like apart from the obvious. I
wanna re-live Woodstock. Only this time Id listen to the music more.
Man, I can like only remember about five hours of it. Can you dig that?
What a bummer.

I want to be on the stage, Tina said breathlessly. A classical
actress, in my early twenties, while Im so beautiful that poets swoon at
the sight of me. And when my new play opens, it would be The event of the
year, and all the Society people in the world are fighting to buy
tickets.

Id like to walk through Elisea woods again, Rana said. She gave
Cochrane a suspect look, but he was listening politely. It was on the
edge of my town when I was growing up, and the Slandau flowers grew
there. They had chromatactile petals; if you touched one, it would change
colour. When the breeze blew through the trees it was like standing
inside a kaleidoscope. I used to spend hours walking along the paths.
Then the developers came, and cleared the site to make room for a factory
park. It didnt matter what I said to anyone, how many petitions I
organized; the mayor, the local senator, they didnt care how beautiful
the woods were and how much people enjoyed them. Money and industry won
every time.

I think Id just say sorry to my parents, Moyo said. My life was such
a waste.

The children, Stephanie said. She grinned knowingly at McPhee. I want
to see my children again.

They fell silent then, content to daydream what could never be.

The sky suddenly brightened. Everyone apart from Moyo looked up, and he
caught their agitation. Ten kinetic harpoons were descending, drawing
their distinctive dazzling plasma contrails behind them. It was a conical
formation, gradually expanding. A second batch of ten harpoons appeared
above the first. Sunglasses automatically materialized on Stephanies
face.

Oh shit, McPhee groaned. Its yon kinetic harpoons, again.

Theyre coming down all around Ketton.

Strange pattern, Franklin said. Why not fire them down all at once?

Does it matter? Rana said. Its obviously the signal to start the
attack.

McPhee was eyeing the harpoons dubiously. The first formation was still
expanding, while the blazing, ruptured air around their nose cones was
growing in intensity.

I think wed better get down. Stephanie said. She rolled over, and
imagined a sheet of air hardening protectively above her. The others
followed her example.

The harpoons Ralph had chosen to deploy against Ketton were different to
the marque hed used to smash Mortonridges communication net at the
start of the Liberation. These were considerably heavier and longer, a
design which helped focus their inertia forwards. On impact, they
penetrated clean through the damp, unresisting soil. Only when they
struck the bedrock below did their tremendous kinetic energy release its
full destructive potential. The explosive blast slammed out through the
soft soil. Directly above the impact point, the whole area heaved upwards
as if a new volcano was trying to tear its way skywards. But the major
impetus of the shockwaves radiated outwards. Then the second formation of
harpoons hit. They formed a ring outside the first, with exactly the same
devastating effect.

Seen from above, the twenty separate shockwaves spread out like ripples
in a pond. But it was the one very specific interference pattern they
formed as they intersected which was the goal of the bombardment.
Colossal energies clashed and merged in peaks and troughs that mimicked
the surface of a choppy sea, channelling the direction in which the force
was expended. Outside the two strike rings, the newly formatted
shockwaves rushed off across the valley floor, becoming progressively
weaker until they sank away to nothing more than a tremble which lapped
against the foothills. Inside the rings, they merged into a single
contracting undulation, which swept in towards Ketton, building in height
and vigour.

Annette Ekelund and the troops manning the towns perimeter defences
watched in stupefaction as the newborn hill thundered towards them from
all directions. The surviving network of local roads leading away from
the outskirts were ripped to shreds as the swelling slope flung them
aside. Boulders went spinning through the air in long lazy arcs. Mud
foamed turbulently at the crest while mires and pools avalanched down the
sides, engulfing the frenzied herds of kolfrans and ferrangs.

It grew higher and higher, a tsunami of soil. The leading edge reached
Kettons outlying buildings, trawling them up its precarious
ever-shifting slope. Defence trenches either slammed shut or split wide
as though they were geological fault lines, their napalm igniting in
third-rate imitation of lava streams. People diverted every fraction of
their energistic strength to reinforcing their bodies, leaving them to
bounce and roll about like human tumbleweed as the demented ground
trampolined beneath them. Without the possessed to maintain them, the
prim, restored houses and shops burst apart in scattergun showers of
debris. Bricks, fragments of glass, vehicles, and shattered timbers took
flight to clot the air above the devastation.

And still the quake raced on, hurtling into the centre of the town. Its
contraction climaxed underneath the charming little church, culminating
in a solid conical geyser of ground fifty metres high. A grinding vortex
of soil erupted from its pinnacle, propelling the entire church into the
sky. The elegant structure hung poised above the cataclysm for several
seconds before gravity and sanity returned to claim it. It broke open
like a ship on a reef, scattering pews and hymn books over the blitzed
land below. Then as the quakes pinnacle ebbed, shrinking down, the
church tumbled over, walls disintegrating into a deluge of powdered
bricks. Yet still, somehow, the spire remained almost intact. Twisting
through a hundred and eighty degrees, with its bell clanging madly, it
plunged down to puncture the tormented crater of raw soil that now marked
the quakes epicentre. Only then, did its structural girders crumple,
reducing it to a pile of ruined metal and fractured carbon-concrete.

Secondary tremors withdrew from the focal point, weaker than the incoming
quake, but still resulting in substantial quivers amid the pulverised
ruins. The quakes accompanying ultrasound retreated, only to echo back
off the valley walls. In ninety seconds, Ketton had been abolished from
Mortonridge; leaving a two-mile-wide smear of treacherously loose soil as
its sole memorial. Spears made from building rafters jabbed up out of the
rumpled black ground, ragged lumps of concrete were interspersed with the
mashed up remnants of furniture, every fragment embedded deep into the
loam. Rivulets of flaming napalm oozed along winding furrows, belching
out black smoke. A curtain of dust thick enough to blot out the sun
swirled overhead.

Annette raised herself to her elbows, fighting the muds suction; and
swung her head slowly from side to side, examining the remains of her
proud little empire. Her energistic strength had protected her body from
broken bones and torn skin, though she knew that there was going to be
heavy bruising just about everywhere. She remembered being about ten
metres in the air at one point, cartwheeling slowly as a single storey
caf did a neat somersault beside her to land on its flat roof, power
cables and plastic water pipes trailing from a wall to lash about like
bullwhips.

Strangely enough, through her numbness, she could admire the quake; there
was a beautiful precision to it. Strong enough to wreck the town, yet
pitched at a level that enabled the possessed to protect themselves from
its effects. As dear Ralph had known they would. Self preservation is the
strongest human instinct; Kettons buildings and fortifications would be
discarded instantly in the face of such a lethal threat.

She laughed hysterically, choking on the filthy dust. Ralph? I told you,
Ralph, you had to destroy the village first. There was no need to take it
so fucking literally, you shit! There was nothing left now to defend, no
banner or cause around which she could rally her army. The serjeants were
coming. Unopposed. Unstoppable.

Annette flopped onto her back, expelling grit from her eyes and mouth.
Her mouth puffed away, eager for much needed oxygen. She had never been
so utterly terrified before. It was an emotion shining at the core of
every mind littered around her in the decimated town. Thousands of them.
The one aspect they had left in common.



The trees had stood up and danced during the quake. They left the cloying
mud behind with loud sucking sounds and pirouetted about while the ground
rearranged itself. It was probably an impressive sight. But only from a
distance.

Stephanie had screamed constantly as she wriggled frantically underneath
the carouselling boughs, ducking the smaller branches that raked the
ground. Shed been struck several times, slapped through the air as if by
a giant bat. Only the energistic power binding her bodys cells together
had saved her from being snapped in two.

Tina hadnt been so fortunate. As the ground started to calm, one of the
trees had fallen straight on top of her. It pushed her deep into the
soaking loam, leaving only her head and an arm sticking out. She was
whimpering softly as the others gathered round. I cant feel anything,
she whispered. I cant make myself feel.

Just melt the wood away, McPhee said quickly, and pointed. Here to
here. Come on, concentrate.

They held hands, imagining the scarlet bark parting, the hard dark wood
of the trunk flowing like water. A big chunk of the trunk turned to
liquid and splattered down on the mud. Franklin and McPhee hurried
forward and pulled Tina out from the mud. Her hips and legs were badly
crushed, blood was running out of several deep wounds, splintered bones
protruded through the skin.

She looked down at her injuries and wailed in fear. Im going to die!
Im going to go back to the beyond.

Nonsense, babe, Cochrane said. He knelt down beside her and passed his
hand over one of the abdominal cuts. The torn flesh sealed over, melding
together. See? Dont give me none of this loser shit.

Theres too much damage.

Come on, guys, Cochrane looked up at the rest of the group. Together
we can do it. Each take a wound.

Stephanie nodded quickly and sank down beside him. Itll be all right,
she promised Tina. The woman had lost an awful lot of blood, though.

They circled her, and laid on their hands. Power was exerted, transmuted
by the wish to heal and cleanse. That was how Sinons squad found them,
kneeling as if in prayer around one of their own. Tina was smiling up
placidly, her pale hand gripping Rana, their fingers entwined.

Sinon and Choma approached cautiously through the jumbled trees, and
levelled their machine guns at the devout-seeming group. I want all of
you to lie down flat, and put your hands behind your head, now, Sinon
said. Do not attempt to move or apply your energistic power.

Stephanie turned to face him. Tinas hurt, she cant move.

I will accept that claim for the moment, providing you do not try to
resist. Now, the rest of you lie down.

Moving slowly, they backed away from Tina and lowered themselves onto the
mushy loam.

<< You can come forward, >>Sinon told the rest of the squad. << They
appear to be compliant >>.

Thirty serjeants emerged from the tangle of branches and twigs, making
remarkably little sound. Their machine guns were all trained on the prone
figures.

You will now leave your captured bodies, Sinon said.

We cant, Stephanie said. She could feel the misery and fear in her
friends, the same as that found in her own mind. It was turning her voice
to a piteous croak. You should know by now not to ask that of us.

Very well. Sinon took his holding stick out.

You dont have to use those things, either, Stephanie said. Well go
quietly.

Sorry, procedure.

Look, Im Stephanie Ash. Im the one that brought the children out. That
must count for something. Check with Lieutenant Anver of the Royal Kulu
marines, hell confirm who I am.

Sinon paused, and used his processor block to query Fort Forwards memory
core. The image of the woman certainly appeared to match, and the man
with flamboyant clothes and a mass of hair was unmistakable.

<< We cant rely on what they look like, >>Choma said. << They can forge
any appearance they want. >>

<< Providing they cooperate, there is no reason to use unnecessary force.
So far they have obeyed, and they know they cannot escape. >>

<< Youre far too trusting. >>

You will get up one at a time when instructed, Sinon told them. We
will escort you back to our field camp where you will be placed in
zero-tau. Three machine guns will be trained upon you at all times. If
any order is refused, we use the holding sticks to neutralize your
energistic ability. Do you understand?

Thats very clear, Stephanie said. Thank you.

Very well. You first.

Stephanie climbed cautiously to her feet, making sure every motion was a
slow one. Choma flicked the nozzle of his machine gun, indicating the
small track through the collapsed trees. Lets go. She started walking.
Behind her, Sinon was telling Franklin to get up.

Tina will need a stretcher, Stephanie said. And someone will have to
guide Moyo, hes damaged his eyes.

Dont worry, Choma said gruffly. Well make sure you all get to the
camp okay.

They emerged from the trees. Stephanie looked at where Ketton had been. A
dense cloud of dark-grey dust churned over the annihilated town. Small
fires burned underneath it, muted orange coronas shining weakly. Twenty
slender purple lines glowed faintly in the air above, linking the cloud
with the top of the atmosphere. Streaks of lightning discharged along
them intermittently.

Bloody hell, she murmured. Thousands of serjeants were walking along
the valley floor towards the silent, murky ruins. The possessed cowering
within knew they were coming. Raw fear was spilling out of the dust cloud
like gaseous adrenaline. Stephanies heart started to beat faster. Cold
shivers ran along her legs and up her chest. She faltered.

Choma nudged her with his machine gun. Keep going.

Cant you feel it? Theyre frightened.

Good.

No, I mean really frightened. Look.

Glimmers of burgundy light were escaping through gaps in the dust cloud.
Billowing tendril-like wisps around the edges were flattening out,
becoming smooth and controlled. The shield against the open sky was
returning.

I didnt think you were stupid enough to try that again, Choma said.
General Hiltch wont permit you to hide.

Even as he spoke an SD electron beam stabbed down through the clear air.
A blue-white pillar two hundred metres wide that struck the apex of the
seething roof of dust. It sprayed apart with a plangent boom, sending out
broad lightning forks that roamed across the boiling surface to skewer
into the mud. This time, the possessed resisted. Ten thousand minds
concentrated within a couple of square miles, all striving for the same
effect. To be free.

The random discharges of the SD beam were slowly tamed. Jagged forks
compressing into garish rivers of electrons that formed a writhing cage
above the dust. Carmine light brightened underneath. Fear turned to
rapture, followed swiftly by determination. Stephanie stared across at
the clamorous spectacle, her mouth open in astonishment, and pride. Their
old unity was back. And with it came a formidable sense of purpose: to
achieve the safety that so many other possessed had obtained. To be gone.

The red light in the cloud strengthened to a lambent glare, then began to
stain the ground of the valley floor. A bright circular wave spreading
out through the mud and sluggish water.

Run, Stephanie told the confounded serjeants. Get clear. Please. Go!
She braced herself as the redness charged towards her. There was no
physical sensation other than a near-psychosomatic tingle. Then her body
was glowing along with the ground, the air, her friends, and the hulking
bodies of the serjeants.

All right! Cochrane whooped. He punched the air. Lets go for it, you
crazyass mothers.

The earth trembled, dispatching all of them to their knees again. Sinon
tried to keep his machine gun lined up on the nearest captive, but the
ground shook again, more violently this time. He abandoned that
procedure, and flattened himself. All the serjeants in the Ketton assault
linked their minds through general affinity, clinging to each other
mentally with a determination that matched their grip on the ground.

What is happening? he bellowed.

Were like outta here, man, Cochrane shouted back. Youre on the last
bus out of this universe.

Ralph watched the red light inflate out of the dust cloud. Datavises from
SD sensors and local occupation forces spread around Catmos Vale relayed
the image from multiple angles, granting him complete three hundred and
sixty degree coverage. He knew what it looked like from the air, from the
ground, even (briefly) as it engulfed marines who were following close
behind the serjeants. But most of all, he just stared ahead as it poured
out across the valley.

Oh my God, he breathed. It was going to be bad. He knew that. Very bad.

Do you want a full SD strike? Admiral Farquar asked.

I dont know. It looks like its slowing.

Confirmed. Roughly circular, twelve kilometres across. And theyve got
two thirds of the serjeants in there.

Are they still alive? Ralph asked Acacia.

Yes, General. Their electronics have collapsed completely, but theyre
alive and able to use affinity.

Then what The ground shifted abruptly below his feet. He landed
painfully on his side. The programmable silicon buildings of the camp
were jittering about. Everywhere, people were on their knees or
spread-eagled.

Shit! Acacia shouted.

A sheer cliff was rising up vertically right across the valley floor,
corresponding to the edge of the red light. Huge cascades of mud and
boulders were tumbling down its face. The red light followed them down,
pervading the rock, and growing brighter.

Ralph refuted his instinct. What he was seeing was just too much, even
though he knew theyd done this to entire planets. They cant, he cried.

But they are, General, Acacia replied. Theyre leaving.

The cliff was still ascending. Two hundred metres now, lifting with
increasing confidence and speed. It was becoming difficult to look at as
the light turned scarlet, casting long shadows across the valley. Three
hundred metres high, and Ralphs neural nanonics had crashed in the
backwash of the blossoming reality dysfunction. On the ground around him,
the battered blades of grass were wriggling their way back upwards again,
shedding their cloak of mud to turn the camp into a verdant parkland.
Fallen trees bent their trunks like the spine of an old man rising from
his chair, cranking themselves upright again.

The vivid red light began to diminish. When Ralph squinted against it, he
could see the cliff retreating from him. It was five hundred metres high,
moving away with the majestic serenity of an iceberg. Except it wasnt
moving, he realized. It was shrinking, the red light contracting in on
itself, enveloping the island of rock which the possessed had uprooted
from Mortonridge to sail away into another universe. As it left he could
see its entire shape, a flat-topped inverted cone wrapped with massive
curving stress ridges that spiralled down to its base, as if it had
unscrewed itself from the peninsula.

Air was roaring hard overhead, sucked into the space the island was
vacating. It still hovered in the centre of the valley, but now it was
becoming insubstantial as well as small. The light around it turned a
dazzling monochrome white, obliterating details. Within minutes it had
evaporated down to a tiny star. Then it winked out. Ralphs neural
nanonics came back on line.

Cancel the other two assaults, he datavised to the AI. And halt the
front line. Now.

He scrambled cautiously to his feet. The reinvigorated grass was
withering all around him, shrivelling back to dry brown flakes that
crumbled away in the howling wind. Images from the SD sensors showed him
the full extent of the massive crater. Its edges had already begun to
subside, mountain-sized landslides were skidding downwards, taking a very
long time to reach the bottom. Waiting for them five kilometres down was
a medieval orange glow that fluctuated in no comprehensible rhythm. He
frowned at that, not understanding what it could be. Then the vivid area
ruptured, and a vast fountain of radiant lava soared upwards.

Whoevers left, get them back, he shouted desperately at Acacia. Get
them as far away from the lip as possible.

Theyre already retreating, she said.

What about the others? The ones on the island? Can your affinity still
reach them?

Her forlorn look was all the answer he needed.



Stephanie and her friends looked at the serjeants, who stared back with
equal uncertainty. For the first time in what her dazed thoughts insisted
must have been hours, the ground had stopped oscillating beneath her.
When she looked up, the sky was a starless ultradeep blue. White light
flooded down from nowhere she could seebut felt right, what she wanted.
Her gaze tracked round to where the other side of the valley had been.
The blank sky came right down to the ground, and the true size of their
island became apparent. A tiny circle of land edged with a crinkled line
of hillocks, adrift in its own eternal universe.

Oh no, she murmured in despair. I think we screwed up.

Are we free? Moyo asked.

For now. She started describing their new home to him.

Sinon and the other serjeants used the general affinity band to call to
each other. There were over twelve thousand of them spread out around the
island. Their guns worked, their electronics and medical nanonics didnt
(several had been injured in the waves of quakes), affinity was
unaffected, and there were new senses available. Almost a derivative of
affinity, allowing him to sense the minds of the possessed. And there was
also the energistic power. He picked a stone from the mud and held it in
his palm. It slowly turned transparent, and began to sparkle. Not that a
kilogram of diamond was a lot of use here.

Could you dudes like give this heavy military scene a break now?
Cochrane asked.

<< It would appear our original purpose is invalid in this environment,
>>Sinon told his comrades. He shouldered his machine gun. Very well.
What do you propose we do next? he asked the hippie.

Wow, man, dont look at me. Stephanies in charge around here.

Im not. And anyway, I havent got a clue what happens now.

Then why did you bring us here? Choma asked.

Because its not Mortonridge, Moyo said. Thats all. Stephanie told
you, we were frightened.

And this is the result, Rana said. You must now face the consequences
of your physical aggression.

<< We should regroup and pool our physical resources, >>Choma said. << It
may even be possible for us to use the energistic power to return to the
universe. >>

Their minds flashed together into a mini-consensus and agreed to the
proposal. An assembly area was designated.

We are going to join up with our comrades, Sinon told Stephanie. You
would be very welcome to come with us. I expect your views on the
situation could prove valuable.

That last image of Ekelund popped up annoyingly in Stephanies mind. The
woman had banished them from Ketton. But Ketton no longer existed. Surely
they wouldnt be excluded now? Somehow she couldnt convince herself. And
the only other alternative was staying by themselves. Without food.
Thank you, she said.

Wait wait, Cochrane said. You guys have like got to be kidding. Look,
the end of the world is maybe half a mile away. Arent you even curious
whats out there?

Sinon looked to where the islands crumpled surface ended. Thats a good
suggestion.

Cochrane grinned brightly. You catsll have to get used to them if
youre going to hang with me.

The breeze picked up considerably as they approached the edge of the
island. Blowing outward, which troubled the serjeants. Air had become a
finite commodity. Long rivulets of mud were sliding gently to the edge
and spilling over, dribbling down the cliff like ribbons of candle wax.
There was nothing else to see. No break in the uniformity of the midnight
blue boundary of the universe that might indicate another object, micro
or macro. The realization they were on their own percolated through all
of them, growing stronger as they approached the rim.

It was only Cochrane who inched his way cautiously right up to the edge
and peered down into the murky void of infinity which buoyed them along.
He spread his arms wide and threw his head back, letting the breeze
flowing over the island blow his hair around. WAAAAAHOOOO. His feet
jigged about crazily as he cried out ecstatically: Im on a fucking
flying island. Can you believe this? Here be dragons, mom! And theyre
GROOVY.


Chapter 11
==========


For some reason, the tangled strands of black mist which filled this dark
continuum would always slide apart to allow Valisk through. Not one wisp
had ever touched the polyp. The habitat personality still hadnt managed
to determine the nature of movement outside its shell. Without valid
reference points, there was no way of knowing if it was sailing along on
some unknowable voyage, or the veils of darkness were simply gusting
past. The identity, structure, and quantum signature of their new
continuum remained a complete mystery. They didnt even know if the ebony
nebula was made from matter. All they did know for certain was that a
hard vacuum lay outside the shell.

Rubras uncorked brigade of descendants had devoted considerable effort
into modifying spaceport MSVs into automated sensor platforms. Five of
the vehicles had already been launched, their chemical rockets burning
steadily as they raced off into the void. Combustion, at least, remained
an inter-universal constant. The same could not be said for their
electronic components. Only the most basic of systems would function
outside the protection of the shell, and even those decayed in proportion
to the distance travelled. The power circuits themselves failed at about
a hundred kilometres, by which time the amount of information transmitted
had fallen to near zero. Which was information in itself. The continuum
had an intrinsic damping effect on electromagnetic radiation; presumably
accounting for the funereal nature of the nebula. Physicists and the
personality speculated that such an effect might be influencing electron
orbits, which in turn would explain some of the electrical and
biochemical problems they were encountering.

The gigantic web of ebony vapour wouldnt touch the probes, either,
denying them a sample/return mission. Radar was utterly useless. Even
laser radar could only just track the modified MSVs. Ten days after the
axial light tube was powered up, they were floundering badly. No
experiment or observation theyd run had resulted in the acquisition of
hard data. Without that, they couldnt even start to theorize how to get
back.

By contrast, life inside the habitat was becoming more ordered, though
not necessarily pleasant. Everybody whod been possessed required medical
treatment of some kind. Worst hit were the elderly, whose possessors had
quite relentlessly twisted and moulded their flesh into the more vigorous
contours sported by youthful bodies. Anyone whod been overweight was
also suffering. As were the thin, the short; anyone with different skin
colour to their possessor, different hair. And without exception,
everyones features had been morphedthat came as naturally as breathing
to the possessed.

Valisk didnt have anything like the number of medical nanonic packages
required to treat the population. Those packages that were available
operated at a very low efficiency level. Medical staff who could program
them correctly shared the same psychologically fragile demeanour as all
the recently de-possessed. And Rubras descendants were tremendously busy
just trying to keep the habitat supplied with power to give much
assistance to the sick. Besides, the numbers were stacked hard and high
against them.

After the initial burst of optimism at the return of light, a grim
resignation settled among the refugees as more and more of their
circumstances were revealed to them. An exodus began. They started
walking towards the caverns of the northern endcap. Long caravans of
people wound their way out from the starscraper lobby parks, trampling
down the dainty parkland paths as they set off down the interior. In many
cases, it took several days to walk the twenty kilometre length across
the scrub desert. They were searching for a haven where the medical
packages would work properly, where there was some kind of organized
authority, a decent meal, a place where the ghosts didnt lurk around the
boundaries. That grail wasnt to be found amid the decrepit slums
encircling the starscraper lobbies.

<< I dont know what the hell they expect me to do for them, >>the
habitat personality complained to Dariat (among others) as the first
groups set out. << Theres not enough food in the caverns, for a start. >>

<< Then youd better work out how to get hold of some, >>Dariat replied.
<< Because theyve got the right idea. The starscrapers cant support
them any more. >>

Power within the towers was as erratic as it had been ever since they
arrived in the dark continuum. The lifts didnt work. Food secretion
organs extruded inedible sludge. Digestion organs were unable to process
and flush the waste. Air circulation tubules spluttered and wheezed.

<< If the starscrapers cant sustain them, then the caverns certainly
wont be able to, >>the personality replied.

<< Nonsense. Half the trees in your interior are fruiting varieties. >>

<< Barely a quarter. In any case, all the orchards are down at the
southern end. >>

<< Then get teams organized to pick the fruit, and strip the remaining
supplies from the starscrapers. Youd have to do this, anyway. You are
the government here, remember. Theyll do as you tell them; they always
have. Itll be a comfort having the old authority figure take charge
again. >>

<< All right, all right. I dont need the psychology lectures. >>

Order, of a kind, was established. The caverns came to resemble a blend
of nomad camps and field hospital triage wards. People slumped where they
found a spare patch of ground, waiting to be told what to do next. The
personality resumed its accustomed role, and started issuing orders.
Cancers and aggravated anorexias were assessed and prioritized, the
medical packages distributed accordingly. Like the fusion generators and
physics lab equipment, they worked best in the deeper caverns. Teams were
formed from the healthiest, and assigned to food procurement duties.
There were also teams to strip the starscrapers of equipment, clothes,
blanketsa broad range of essentials. Transport had to be organized.

The ghosts followed faithfully after their old hosts, of course,
flittering across the desert during the twilight hours to skulk about in
the hollows and crevices decorating the base of the northern endcap
during the day. Naked hostility continued to act as an intangible buffer,
preventing them from entering any of the subterranean passages.

It also expelled Dariat. The refugees didnt distinguish between ghosts.
In any case, had they discovered he was the architect of their current
status, their antipathy would probably have wiped him out altogether. His
one consolation was that the personality was now part self. It wouldnt
disregard him and his needs as an annoying irritation.

In part he was right, though the assumption of privilege was an arrogant
onethe pure Dariat of old. However, in these strange, dire times, there
were even useful jobs to be had for cooperative ghosts. The personality
gave him Tolton as a partner, and detailed the pair of them to take an
inventory of the starscrapers.

Him! Tolton had exclaimed in dismay when Erentz explained his new
duties.

She looked from the shocked and indignant street poet to the fat ghost
with his mocking smile. You worked well together before, she ventured.
Im proof of that.

Yeah, but

Okay. Most of that row need seeing to. She gestured at the long line of
beds along the polyp wall. It was one of eight similar rows in the
vaulting cavern; made up from mattresses or clustered pillows hurriedly
shoved into a loose kind of order. The ailing occupants were wrapped in
dirty blankets like big shivering pupas. They moaned and drooled and
soiled themselves as the nanonic packages sluggishly repaired their
damaged cells. Their helpless state meant they needed constant nursing.
And there were few enough people left over from the teams prospecting the
habitat able to do that.

Which starscraper do we start with? Tolton asked.

Each starscraper took at least three days to inventory properly. Theyd
adopted a comfortable routine by the time they started on their third,
the Djerba. The tower had survived Valisks recent calamities with
minimal damage. Kieras wrecking teams hadnt got round to reclaiming
it from Rubras control. There had been few clashes between possessed and
servitors inside before it was abandoned. That meant it should contain
plenty of useful items. They just needed cataloguing.

To send the work teams down on a see/grab brief was inefficient,
especially as there were so few of them. And the personalitys thought
routines had almost been banished from the habitats extremities; its
memories of room contents were unreliable at best.

Mostly offices, Tolton decided as he waved a lightstick around. He was
holding one in his hand, with another two slung across his chest on
improvised straps. Together, the three units provided almost as much
illumination as one working at full efficiency.

Looks like it, Dariat said. They were on the twenty-third floor
vestibule, where the walls were broken by anonymously identical doors.
Tall potted plants in big troughs were wilting, deprived of light their
leaves were turning yellow-brown and falling onto the blue and white
carpet.

They moved down the vestibule, reading names on the doors. So far offices
had resulted in very few worthwhile finds; theyd learned that unless the
company was a hardware or medical supplier there was little point in
going in and searching. Occasionally the personalitys localized memory
would recall a useful item, but the neural strata was becoming more
incapable with each floor they descended.

Thirty years, Tolton mused. Thats a long time to hate. There hadnt
been much else to do except swap life stories.

Dariat smiled in recollection. Youd understand if youd ever seen
Anastasia. She was the most perfect girl ever to be born.

Sounds like Ill have to write about her some time. But I think your
story is more interesting. Man, theres a lot of suffering in you. You
died for her, you actually did it. Actually went and killed yourself. I
thought that kind of thing really did only happen in poems and Russian
novels.

Dont be too impressed. I only did it after I knew for sure souls
existed. Besides He gestured down at his huge frame and grubby toga. I
wasnt losing a lot.

Yeah? Well Im no sensevise star, but Im hanging on to what Ive got
for as long as I can. Especially now I know there are souls.

Dont worry about the beyond. You can leave it behind if you really want
to.

Tell that to the ghosts upstairs. In fact, Im even keener to hang on to
my body while were in this continuum.

Tolton stopped outside a sensevise recording studio, and gave Dariat a
shrewd look. Youre in touch with the personality, is there any chance
of us getting out of here?

Too early to say. We really dont know very much about the dark
continuum yet.

Hey, this is me youre talking to. I survived the whole occupation, you
know. Quit with the company line and level with me.

I wasnt going to hold anything back. The one conjecture all my
illustrious relatives are worried about is the lobster pot.

Lobster pot?

Once you get in, you cant get out. Its the energy levels, you see.
Judging by the way our energy is being absorbed by this continuums
fabric it doesnt have the same active energy state. Were louder and
stronger than normal conditions here. And that strength is slowly being
drained away, just by being here. Its an entropy equilibrium effect.
Everything levels out in the end. So if we take height as a metaphor,
were at the bottom of a very deep hole with our universe at the top;
which means its going to take a hell of an effort to lift ourselves out
again. Logically, we need to escape through some kind of wormhole. But
even if we knew how to align its terminus coordinates so that it opens
inside our own universe, its going to be incredibly difficult to
generate one. Back in our universe, they took a lot of very precisely
focused energy to open, and the nature of this continuum works against
that. With this constant debilitation effect, it may not be possible to
concentrate enough energy, itll dissipate before it reaches critical
distortion point.

Shit. Theres got to be something we can do.

If those rules do apply, our best bet is to try and send a message out.
Thats what the personality and my relatives are working towards. If they
know where we are, the Confederation might be able to open a wormhole to
us from their side.

Might be able?

All new suggestions welcome. But as it stands, getting them to lower us
a rope is the best we can come up with.

Some rescue plan. The Confederation has its own problems right now.

If they can learn how to grab us back, theyll be half way to solving
them.

Sure.

They reached the end of the vestibule and automatically turned round.

<< Nothing here, >>Dariat reported. << Were moving down to the
twenty-fourth floor. >>

<< All right, >>the personality replied. << Theres a hotel, the
Bringnal, a couple of floors down from where you are now. Check its main
linen store, we need more blankets. >>

<< Youre going to ask one of the teams to lug blankets up twenty-five
floors? >>

<< All the large hoards above that level have been used. And right now
its easier to find new ones than wash the old; nobodys got enough
energy for that. >>

<< All right. >>Dariat faced Tolton, taking care to exaggerate his
speech. They want us to find blankets.

Sounds like a real priority job we got ourselves here. Tolton slithered
through a partly open muscle membrane and into the stairwell. The
quivering lips didnt bother him nearly so much now.

Dariat followed him, taking care to use the gap. He could slip through
solid surfaces, hed found, if he really wanted to. It was like sinking
through ice.

One of the random power surges flowered around them. Electrophorescent
cells shone brightly again, illuminating the stairs in stark blue-tinged
light. A jet of foggy air streamed out of a tubule vent, sounding like a
sorrowful sigh. A thin film of grey water was slicking every surface.
Tolton could see the breath in front of his face. He gripped the handrail
tighter, fearful of slipping.

Were not going to be able to salvage stuff from the starscrapers for
much longer, Tolton said, wiping his hand against his leather jacket.
Theyre getting worse.

You should see what kind of state the ducts and tubules are in.

The street poet grunted in resentment. He was actually eating a lot
better than most of the population. Inventory duties had a great many
perks. The private apartments with their small stocks of quality food and
fashionable clothes were his to pick over as he wished. The salvage teams
were only interested in the larger stores that were in restaurants and
bars. And now the endless succession of lightless floors no longer
bothered him, he was glad to be away from the caverns with all their
sufferingand smell.

<< Dariat. >>

The startled tone made him halt. << What? >>

<< Theres something outside. >>

Affinity made him aware of the consternation spreading through his
relatives, most of whom were in the counter-rotating spaceport and the
caverns.

<< Show me. >>

One of the slow flares of red and blue phosphorescence was shimmering
through the ebony nebula, sixty kilometres away from the southern endcap.
As it dwindled, several more began to bloom in the distance, sending
pastel waves of light washing across the gigantic habitats shell. The
personality didnt believe the sudden increase in frequency was a
coincidence. It was busy concentrating on collecting the images from its
external sensitive cells. Once again, Dariat was uncomfortably aware of
the effort expended in what should be a simple observation routine.

A speck of hoary-grey flitted among the strands of blackness, snapping in
and out of view. Following the smooth curving motions put Dariat in mind
of a skier, the things course was very much like a slalom run. Every
turn brought it closer to Valisk.

<< The nebula doesnt get out of its way, >>the personality remarked. <<
Its dodging the braids. >>

<< That implies a controlling intelligence, or at least animal-level
instinct. >>

<< Absolutely. >>

The initial consternation of Rubras descendants had given way to a slick
buzz of activity. Those out in the spaceport were activating systems,
aligning them on the visitor. An MSV was powered up, ready for an
inspection/interception flight.

<< An MSV cant match that kind of manoeuvrability, >>Dariat said. The
visitor performed a fast looping spiral around a grainy black curlicue,
shooting off in a new direction parallel to Valisks shell, fifteen
kilometres distant. Visual resolution was improving. The visitor was
about a hundred metres across, appearing like a disk of ragged petals. <<
Even a voidhawk would have trouble making rendezvous. >>

The visitor darted behind another frayed column of blackness. When it
re-emerged it was soaring almost at right angles to its original course.
Its petals were bending and flexing.

<< They look like sails to me, >>Dariat said.

<< Or wings. Although I dont understand what it could be pushing
against. >>

<< If this continuum has such a low energy state, how come it can move so
fast? >>

<< Beats me. >>

Several spaceport dishes started tracking the visitor. They began
transmitting the standard CAB xenoc interface communication protocol on a
multi-spectrum sweep. Dariat allowed his affinity bond to decline to a
background whisper. Come on, he told a frowning Tolton. Weve got to
find a window.

The visitor didnt respond to the interface protocol. Nor did it show any
awareness of the radar pulses fired at it. That was perhaps
understandable, given that they produced no return signal. The only
noticeable change as it spun and danced ever-closer was the way shadows
congealed around it. Visually it actually appeared to grow smaller, as
though it were flying away from the habitat.

<< Thats like the optical distortion effect which the possessed use to
protect themselves with, >>Dariat said. He and Tolton had found a snug
bar called Horners on the twenty-fifth floor. The two big oval windows
were misted over inside, forcing Tolton to wipe them clean with one of
the coarse table cloths. His breath kept splashing against the icy glass,
condensing immediately.

<< Well we did choose a realm suitable for ghosts, >>the personality said.

<< Ive never heard of a ghost that looked like that. >>

The visitor was within five kilometres of the shell now, about where the
filigree of nebula strands began. There was only empty space between it
and the habitat now.

<< Maybe its scared to come any closer, >>the personality said. << I am
considerably larger. >>

<< Have you tried an affinity call? >>

<< Yes. It didnt respond. >>

<< Oh. Well. Just a thought. >>

The visitor left the convoluted weave of the nebula and flashed towards
the vast bulk of the habitat. By now its deceptive glamour had reduced it
to a rosette of oyster ribbons twirling gracelessly in the wake of a
fluctuating warp point. The image of the nebula and its strange borealis
storms fluxed and bent as the visitor traversed them; oscillating between
iridescent scintillations and a black boundary deeper than an event
horizon. Nothing about it remained stable.

It streaked over to within fifty metres of the shell then veered round to
follow the curve, wriggling wildly from side to side. The quick
serpentine orbit allowed it to cover a considerable portion of the
habitats exterior.

<< Its searching, >>the personality said. << That implies a degree of
organisation. It has to be sentient. >>

<< Searching for what? >>

<< A way in, I imagine. Or something it can recognize, some method of
establishing communication. >>

<< Do any of the spaceport defences still work? >>Dariat asked.

<< You have to be bloody joking. We need all the allies we can get. >>

<< Before we fused, you used to be the mother of all suspicious neurotic
bastards. I think that would be a preferable attitude for you right now.
>>

<< Well thats the effect of your mature calming influence for you. So
youve only got yourself to blame. But dont worry, Im not going to send
the MSV after it. >>

<< Thank Tarrug for that. >>

<< Our visitor should be coming over your horizon any second now. Perhaps
your eyes will do better than my sensitive cells. >>

Wipe the glass again, Dariat told Tolton.

The soaking table cloth smeared the moisture in long streaks. Tiny flecks
of frost were glistening dull white over the rest of the big oval. Tolton
switched off two of his lightsticks. Both of them peered forward. The
visitor arched over the rim of the shell, lensing thin spires of
vermilion and indigo light as it came. They wavered in the runnels of
water, wobbling insubstantially before sinking back down into the
visitors core. Now all that remained was a black knot in the continuums
fabric racing over the dark rust-coloured polyp.

Toltons weak grin was bloated with uncertainly. Am I being paranoid, or
is that heading towards us?



In the earlier time and place, long ago and far away, they had called
themselves the Orgath. Now, names had lost all meaning and relevance, or
perhaps they themselves had devolved into something else, such was the
way of this atrocious existence. There were many others adrift in the
dark continuum, sharing their fate. Identity was no longer singular. A
myriad of racial traits had blended and faded into a singleton over the
aeons.

Purpose, though, purpose remained steadfast. The quest for light and
strength, a return to the sweet heights from whence they had all fallen.
A dream sustained even within the mlange. Few forms existed now outside
of the mlange. The process of diminution claimed every life to fall into
these depths. But this one had risen yet again, buoyed up by the tides of
chaotic chance that rioted within the mlange, spat out to roam the murk
for as long as it had strength. The freeflying state of such escapees was
still that of the Orgath, though the essence of many others rode upon
its wings. Its chimerical shape was a tortured mockery of the once
glorious avian lords who ruled the swift air currents of their homeworld.

Ahead of it now drifted the exotic object. It was composed of a substance
to be found only in the oldest of the Orgaths memories, those that
pre-dated the dark continuum. How strange that it could barely recognize
the antecedent of its own salvation.

Matter. Solid organized matter. Alive with a heat so fierce it took the
Orgath some time to acclimatise to the radiance; elevating itself to a
near ecstatic level of warmth. Incredibly, just within the scorching
surface, a sheet of life energy burned bright and vigorous. The entire
object was a single mighty entity. Yet passive. Vulnerable. This was a
feast which would sustain a huge proportion of the mlange for a long
time. It might even trigger a total dispersal.

The Orgath slithered close to the objects surface, feeling the mind
within follow its flight. Vast swirls of rich thought flowed underneath
it as it basked in the warmth. But there was no way to reach the abundant
life-energy through the hard surface. If the Orgath attempted to claw
its way through, it would surely incinerate itself. Contact with so much
heat for so long could probably not be sustained. But the craving within
itself from proximity to so much vital life-energy was overwhelming.

There must be some way in. Some orifice or chink. The Orgath coasted
along over the object, heading for the spikes radiating out from the
centre. They were smaller, weaker than the rest of it. Long hollow
minarets leaking their energy away into the dark continuum. The
life-energy was shallower here, the heat not so intense. Each of the
structures was broken by thousands of dark ovals, curtained by cooler
sheets of transparent matter. Light twinkled briefly through some of
them, never lasting long. Except one. A single oval burning steadily.

The Orgath glided eagerly towards it. Two flames of life-energy gleamed
behind the transparent sheet. One naked, the other clad in hot matter;
both enraging the Orgaths craving. It surged forward.



FUCK! Tolton screamed. He dived to one side, scattering tables and
chairs. Dariat jumped the other way just as the Orgath hit the window.
Frost blossomed like a living thing, strands of long delicate crystals
multiplying across the glass, then reaching out through the air. Shapes
moved on the other side of the hoary fur, dark indistinct serpents,
thicker than a human torso, that could be tentacles or tongues scrabbling
furiously at the outer surface. The unmistakable grinding shriek of deep
score lines being ripped into the material penetrated the bar, drowning
out Toltons terrified cries.

<< Do something! >>Dariat wailed.

<< You name it, Ill do it. >>

Tolton was scuttling backwards on his hands and legs, unable to take his
eyes from the window. The serpent shapes were writhing with rabid
aggression as they clawed their way through. A badly stressed snap
sounded above the vicious squealing; corresponding to a thin dark shadow
materializing across the frosted window. Furniture was rattling, shaking
its way erratically across the floor. Glasses and bottles abandoned on
top of the marble bar juddered vigorously and tumbled off.

<< Its coming through! >>Dariat cried. When he tried to clamber to his
feet, he discovered he didnt have the strength. Fatigue was numbing
every limb.

Kill it! Tolton bellowed.

<< We can try and zap it, >>the personality said, << like we did the
possessed. >>

<< Just bloody do it! >>

<< It might kill you as well; we dont know. >>

<< Youre part me. Do you seriously think I want that to catch me? >>

<< Very well. >>

The personality began to re-route its patched-up power supply. Diverting
current away from the axial light tube and the caverns, pumping the
precarious fusion generators up to their maximum output. Electricity
poured back into the Djerba starscrapers organic conductor grid. The
first-floor windows blazed with golden light; mechanical and electronic
systems came alive in frantic chitters of movement and data emissions.
Milliseconds later the second floor sprang back to life. The third,
fourth . . .

Dazzling shafts of light sliced out from the Djerbas windows, piercing
the gloom outside. They snapped downward storey by storey towards the
beleaguered twenty-fourth floor. The personality gathered its major
thought routines and plunged them down into the starscraper, a sensation
like diving into a pitch-black well shaft. Bitek networks were swiftly
resurrected around its descending mentality.

A dead zone was concentrated around Horners window. The external polyp
was so cold the personality could no longer calibrate it. Living cells
deeper in had frozen solid. The personality could feel vibrations running
through the floor as the Orgath pounded and scraped against the window.

Junctions within the organic conductor web switched polarity, high order
sub-routines cancelled the safety limiters. Every erg of power from the
fusion generators was channelled into Horners. Ceiling strips of
electrophorescent cells ignited, flooding the bar with searing white
light. Organic conductors behind the walls fused, burning out long lines
of polyp in a cascade of amber sparks. Incandescent arcs stormed through
the air as a lethal charge of electrons was fired into the external wall.

Coming on top of the heat and life-energy, the electron hammer blow was
just too much. The Orgath recoiled from the window, appendages flailing
madly as the streams of alien energy churned within its body. There was a
brief glimpse of sinuous chrome-black tendrils bristling with curving
blades coiling back protectively around a bulbous midsection. Ragged wing
petals began to flex. Then the distortion smeared it with refracted
scintillations from the gleaming starscraper, and it shot away at a
bruising acceleration. Within seconds it was lost inside the nebula.

Dariat took his arm away from his face. The tremendous barrage of noise
and light saturating the bar had faded. A few sparks were still popping
out from the deep scorch marks in the walls. The glossy electrophorescent
cells had shattered and shrivelled to rain across the floor, their
fragments curling up, puffing out licks of smoke.

<< You all right, my boy? >>the personality enquired.

Dariat looked down at himself. The feeble yellow glow from Toltons
remaining lightstick showed his spectral body unchanged. Though possibly
more translucent than usual. He still felt terribly weak. << I think so.
Im bloody cold, though. >>

<< Could have been worse. >>

<< Yeah. >>Dariat felt the personalitys major routines withdrawing from
the starscraper. The lights were going off again in the upper floors,
autonomic bitek functions shutting down.

He struggled to his knees, shivering intensely. When he looked round he
could see ice encrusted on every surface, turning the bar into an arctic
grotto. The electrical discharge had melted very little of it. That was
probably what had saved them; it was several centimetres thick over the
window. And the fracture pattern in the glass underneath was unnervingly
pronounced.

Tolton was spasming on the floor, spittle flecking his lips. His hair was
rimed with frost. Each shallow panted breath was revealed in a cloud of
white vapour.

Shit. Dariat staggered over to him. Just in time he remembered not to
try and touch the tormented body. << Get a medical team down here. >>

<< Oh yeah. Ill get right on it. They should be with you in about three
hours. >>

<< Shit. >>He knelt down next to Tolton, and leaned right over, staring
into delirious eyes. Hey. Limpid fingers clicked right in front of
Toltons nose. Hey. Tolton. Can you hear me? Try and steady your
breathing. Take a deep breath. Come on! Youve got to calm your body
down. Breathe.

Toltons teeth chittered. He gurgled, cheeks bulging.

Thats it. Come on. Breathe. Deep. Suck that air down. Please.

The street poets lips compressed slightly, making a whistling sound.

Good. Good. And again. Come on.

It took several minutes for Toltons bucking to subside. His erratic
breathing reduced to sharp gasps. Cold, he grunted.

Dariat smiled down at him. Ho boy. You had me worried there. We really
dont need any more ghosts floating around in here right now.

Heart. My heart. God! I thought . . .

Its okay. Its over.

Tolton nodded roughly, and tried to lever himself up.

Stop! You just lie there for another minute longer. Theres no paramedic
service any more, remember? First thing we need is some proper food for
you. I think theres a restaurant on this floor.

No way. As soon as I can get up, were leaving. No more starscrapers.
Tolton coughed, and started to glance round. Jesus. He scowled. Are we
safe?

Sure. For now, anyway.

Did we kill it?

Dariat grimaced. Not exactly, no. But we gave it a hell of a fright.

That lightning bolt didnt kill it?

No. It flew off, though.

Shit. I nearly died.

Yeah. But you didnt. Concentrate on that.

Tolton slowly eased himself into a sitting position, wincing at each tiny
movement. Once he was propped up against a table leg, he reached out and
caressed the ice which was engulfing a chair, fingers stroking curiously.
He gave Dariat a grim look with badly bloodshot eyes. This isnt going
to have a happy ending, is it?



The seven hellhawks glided in towards Monterey, acknowledging the query
from the SD network defence as the sensors locked on.

<< The Sevilla SD network was a hell of a lot stronger than anything we
were briefed about, >>they told Jull von Holger, when he asked how the
mission had gone. << Seven frigates were lost, and were all thats left
of our squadron. >>

<< Did the infiltration succeed? >>

<< We think over a hundred got through. >>

<< Excellent. >>

Neither side said anything more. Jull von Holger could sense the quiet
rage of the surviving hellhawks. He chose not to mention the fact to
Emmet Mordden; the hellhawks were all Kieras problem.

<< Go straight to the docking ledges, >>Hudson Proctor told the
hellhawks. << Weve already cleared the pedestals. Youll be fed as soon
as you land. >>He focused on Kieras face. She smiled her brightest
ingnue smile, pouring as much gratitude into her thoughts as possible
for her deputy to relay. Well done. I know its not easy, but believe me
there wont be many more of these ridiculous seeding missions. She
arched an eyebrow in query to Hudson. Was there a reply?

He coloured slightly at the emotional backlash to her little speech that
flooded the affinity band. No. Theyre pretty tired.

I understand. Her sweet expression hardened. End your contact.

Hudson Proctor nodded curtly, signalling it had been done.

You hope there aint going to be many more seeding flights, you mean,
Luigi said indolently.

The three of them were sitting in one of the smaller, more private
lounges above the asteroids docking ledges, waiting for the last member
of their group to arrive. Kieras small revolution had picked up a
respectable degree of momentum over the last ten days. The success of the
seeding flights had bolstered Als popularity and authority considerably.
But that triumph came with a high price in terms of starships, and quite
a few people were starting to acknowledge that the infiltration campaign
was short-termism. Slowly, quietly, Kiera had exploited that. Being able
to see the dissatisfaction and worry in peoples minds gave her a handy
advantage when it came to spotting potential recruits.

Silvano Richmann came in and took his seat around the coffee table. There
was a cluster of bottles in the centre, he poured himself a shot of
whisky.

The Sevilla flotilla is back, Kiera told him. Seven frigates and five
hellhawks got zapped.

Fuck. Silvano shook his head in dismay. Als putting together another
fifteen of these missions. He just doesnt see it.

He sees it the way he wants to see it, Kiera said. Theyre successful
in that theyre landing infiltrators each time. The Confederation is
going apeshit. Were knocking off five of their planets a day. It buys
him complete respect and loyalty with the Organization down on the
planet.

While my fleet gets chopped to shit, Luigi snapped. That goddamn whore
Jezzibella. Shes got him by the balls.

Not just your fleet, Kiera said. Im losing hellhawks fast. Much more
of this, and theyll leave.

Where to? Silvano asked. Theyve got to stick with you. That was a
neat sting you pulled on them with the food.

The Edenists keep making offers to try and lure them away, Hudson said.
Etchells keeps us informed. The latest offer is that theyll actually
accept the blackhawk host personality into their habitat neural strata,
leaving our guys as the only soul in there. In exchange they get all the
food they want, providing they just cooperate with the Edenists, help
them find out about our powers.

Shit, Silvano muttered. We gotta stop this. Id be mighty tempted by
any offer that got rid of this bodys host soul.

Wouldnt we all, Kiera said. She sat back and sipped at her wine.
Okay, the question is, how far are you prepared to go?

Pretty goddamn obvious for me, Luigi said. Ill waste that shit Capone
myself. Busting me down to a fucking errand boy. Nobody could have
handled Tranquillity any different.

Silvano?

Hes got to go. But theres one condition for me signing up with you.
And it aint negotiable.

Whats that? Kiera asked, though she was fairly sure she knew. Silvano
was feared as Als chief enforcer, but he did have one major difference
with his boss.

After we do this, there are no more non-possessed in the Organization.
We take them all out. Understood?

Suits me, Kiera said.

No way! Luigi shouted. I cant run my fucking fleet with just
possessed crews. You know that. Youre shitting on me here, man.

Yeah? Who says theres going to be a fucking fleet after this. Right,
Kiera? Were doing this for our own safety. Were going to take New
California out of here; out of this universe. Just like all the other
possessed have done. And for that, we cant afford no non-possessed to be
around. Come on, Luigi, you know that. As long as theres one of them
left, theyre going to be plotting and scheming how to get rid of us. For
Christs sake. We steal their bodies from them. If you was alive right
now, you wouldnt give jack shit about anything else other than getting
them back from us. He slammed his tumbler back down on the table. We
eliminate all the non-possessed, or theres no deal.

Then theres no fucking deal, Luigi stormed.

Kiera held up her hands. Boys, boys, this is how Al wins. You ever heard
of divide and rule? All of us have different interests, and the only way
we can hang on to them is if were part of the Organization. Only the
Organization needs a fleet, and hellhawks, and lieutenants that have to
be kept in line. She shot Silvano a significant look. Hes made it
complicated so that we have to support him to keep our own places. What
weve got to do is dismantle the Organization, but rig whatevers next so
that we three come out on top.

Like what? Luigi asked suspiciously.

Okay, you want the fleet back, right? Tell me why?

Because its fucking mine, you dumb broad. I built that fleet up from
nothing. I was here right from the start, the day Al walked into San
Angeles City Hall.

Fair enough. But all the fleet did was make you a player. Do you really
want to risk flying to Confederation planets and going up against their
SD networks? Theyre getting wise to us now. These seeding flights are
pissing them off bad. Theyre killing us out there, Luigi.

So? Like I should care. Im the admiral. I dont have to go with them
every time.

The whole fleet doesnt have to go anywhere, Luigi; thats the point.
What you need is to exchange the fleet for something else that will keep
you in the game, right?

Luigi eyed her cautiously. Maybe.

Thats what weve got to work out between the three of us. Right now, we
can carry the Organization if we eliminate Capone. But the Organizations
a dead end. Dishing out tokens instead of money, for Christs sake. If we
take it over, weve got to use it to establish a new type of government.
One that has us at the top.

Like what? Silvano asked. The second New California leaves this
universe then nobody needs any kind of government.

Says who? Kiera sneered. Youve seen the cities down there. Unless the
Organization keeps putting the squeeze on the farmers to supply food,
theyd collapse overnight. If New California escapes this universe,
everyone on it is going to have to turn into some kind of medieval
peasant just to stay alive. And thats such bullshit. Five per cent of
the population working in the fields can sustain the rest of us. Now I
dont know what kind of society we can build on the other side, but Im
damned if Im going to live in a mud hut and spend my days walking behind
a horses arse to plough a field. Especially when someone else can be
made to do it for me.

So what are you saying here? Silvano asked. That we keep the farmers
working while the rest of us live it up?

Basically, yeah. Its just like what Ive done with the hellhawks, but
on a much bigger scale. We have to keep the farmers farming, and we have
to be in charge of distributing the food to the urban areas. Convert the
Organization into a giant supplier; and the only people who get supplied,
are the ones who we say.

Youd need a fucking army for that! Luigi exclaimed.

Kiera gestured magnanimously. There you are then. Thats what you turn
the fleet into. Find a portable weapon thats effective against the
possessed: something like those bastard serjeants use on Mortonridge,
manufacture it up here, and equip our supporters with it. Use the same
chain of command network thats already in place, but with a land army to
back it up instead of the SD platforms.

That might work, Silvano said. So if Luigis got himself an army, what
do I get?

Communications are vital, otherwise this whole thing will just collapse.
And wed need to be more subtle with the farmers than forcing them at
gunpoint. Thats an enforcers job.

He poured himself another whisky. Okay. Lets talk about it.



Western Europe always took his dogs for a walk himself. Dog ownership was
a healthy reminder of responsibility; you either do it properly or not at
all. There werent many crises which could make him skip a day. Though he
suspected one of his staff was going to have to start substituting fairly
soon.

The formal lawns extended for over three hundred metres from the back of
the house (they were yards back in the days when he bought the estate,
but even he had fallen to using that appalling modern French metric
system now). A hedge of ancient yews marked the end, ten metres high,
laden with their squishy dull-red berries. He pushed through the gap
marked by crumbling stone pillars that used to be gateposts, making a
mental note to get a gardening construct to prune the twigs. The carpet
of dry needles compressed beneath his brogues as the Labradors scampered
round him. It was meadowland beyond, the shaggy grass thick with daisies
and buttercups. A gentle slope led down to a long still lake eight
hundred metres away. He whistled softly, and threw his stick.

Found them, North America datavised.

Who?

The possessed Quinn Dexter left behind in New York. Just to make you
more insufferable, you were right. He went for the Light Bringer sect.

Ah. The Labradors found the stick, one of them clamped it in his jaw.
Western Europe slapped his hands on his thighs, and the dogs started to
bound back to him. How bad is it?

Not too bad, I believe. I lost the High Magus, of course. I guess he
suicided. But there are several actives left. Two of them called me
before the energistic effect glitched their neural nanonics. Theyre
taking over the covens one at a time. Eight down already, including the
arcology headquarters in the Leicester skyscraper.

Numbers?

Thats the good news. About ten possessed to each coven. The moron
acolytes are actually welcoming them, and doing as theyre told. Their
new masters are just sitting tight, and holding some pretty gross orgies.
Theyve made sure each covens electronics are switched off, not that
many of their units were ever interfaced with the net anyway.

I knew it. Theyre moving with a purpose.

Definite infiltration tactics. Theyve got their foothold, now theyre
waiting.

If theyre spreading to each dome, then some of them must be on the
move.

Yes, I know. And theyve had it easy in all the confusion. With all
those riots resulting from the vac-train shutdown theres been a lot of
vandalism; that makes it tough for the AI to locate glitches.

So when are you going to hit the covens?

Good question. I wanted your opinion on that. If I hit them now, then
whoevers moving about will be warned and go to ground. Thatll leave New
York vulnerable.

Western Europe took the stick from the Labrador, and paused. Yes, but if
you wait until every coven is taken over, youll have a lot of the
bastards to deal with. Someone will inevitably get through the police
cordons, and youll be back in the same leaky boat. How many covens can
you monitor in real time?

All of them. Thats already being done. Those I have no direct access to
are being watched by agents.

Then youve got it covered. Wait until a group of possessed shows up at
a new coven, then take them all out together.

And if theres more than one group moving round?

Im paranoid, but am I paranoid enough. What sort of assault were you
planning?

GISD tactical team, with shoot to kill orders. Wipe each coven out, I
dont want prisoners to interrogate. Fletcher is still cooperating with
Halos science teams.

Given the stakes, here, Id suggest using a gamma pulse against them
first. Youll get peripheral casualties, but itll be nothing like as bad
as an SD strike. Send the tactical teams in to secure and mop up
afterwards.

All right. I can live with that.

We might even get a vote of confidence from our illustrious colleagues.

Not even this centurys geneering can make pigs fly yet. Ill get the
assault organized for three hundred hours EST.

If you need any help, just whistle. Western Europe smiled happily, and
slung the stick high into the air.



Not even B7 could block news of events inside New York from spilling out
across the global net. Speculation had been hot and intense ever since
the arcologys vac-trains had been shut down after the Dome One
incident. Several riots had been captured by rover reporters; two of
whom had been badly injured during the coverage, adding extra spice to
the sensevise. Then eleven hours later, the North American Commissioner
had appeared before the press once more to announce the investigation had
been completed, and confirm the incident was not caused by the possessed.
It was in fact a professional assassination carried out in Grand Central
Station involving a sophisticated weapons implant and a chameleon suit.
Business rivals of the deceased Bud Johnson were currently being sought
for questioning.

The vac-trains had been re-opened. The rioters and looters had cleared
the streets. The police reinforcements had been stood down. Celebrity
news presenters were given extended programmes to cover the paranoia
raging across the planet. The arrival of the Mounts Delta appeared to
have acted as the trigger for a multitude of small events that were
blamed on the possessed, culminating in the Grand Central Station
disturbance. And Capones recent switch in tactics to flying infiltration
attacks against Confederation planets served to exacerbate peoples
fears. The Confederation Navy and local SD networks seemed unable to
prevent the Organizations strike flotillas. After the quarantine
appeared to be preventing the spread, worlds were starting to fall again.
Everyone, ran the feeling, was vulnerable.

But the lifting of the vac-train restrictions eased the tension a little,
right up until 2:50 EST when they were abruptly shut again. Frustrated
commuters datavised the information to the news agencies within ten
seconds. New Yorks rover reporters, who had descended en masse into the
arcologys bars after a hard days sensationalising, were hauled back out
onto the concrete canyons by their editors. Agencies which datavised
information requests to the arcologys civic authority were met with
blank puzzlement. Nobody had told the graveyard shift about the
vac-trains. The police precinct houses were equally baffled. Even the
urgent requests to in-house sources produced a blank, at least in the ten
minutes that counted.

With all of the B7 supervisors on-line and observing, North America gave
the order to launch the assault.

The Internal Security Directorate tactical teams had been arriving in New
York ever since the vac-trains started running again. By the time the
assault was launched, there were over eight hundred personnel deployed
around the various sect covens. They were all armed with projectile
weapons loaded with chemical or electric rounds. Complementing them were
the gamma lasers. Intended for anti-terrorist interception situations,
they were powerful enough to penetrate at least five metres of
carbon-concrete. Such a range would allow the teams to strike at targets
holed up deep inside skyscrapers and megatowers. One would usually be
sufficient to eliminate an entire room full of hostiles instantaneously.

North America had ringed each coven with nine, while the Leicester
skyscraper had fifteen ranged against it. The supervisors deepest worry
was that the possessed with their extended senses would discover the
preparations. To try and deny them any hint, engineering mechanoids had
been used throughout the day to unpack and install the gamma lasers in
surrounding buildings. Give-away human supervision had been kept to an
absolute minimum. As well as the gamma lasers, North America had the
exits and service tunnels rigged to electrify anyone who scuttled down
them. That was the most dangerous aspect of the work, but again
mechanoids with New Yorks civic service emblem on their sides trundled
along modifying wires and cables without drawing questions or interest.

The tactical teams had assembled several blocks away to avoid attention.
North America started to move them forward simultaneously with closing
down the vac-trains. He also closed down all road traffic and metro
transit carriages inside the arcology, and sealed the domes from each
other; an aspect the news agencies didnt realize until a lot later.
According to every asset and functional bug infiltrated into the covens,
neither the possessed nor the acolytes were aware of the preparations.
They didnt even know the tactical teams were advancing.

The gamma ray lasers fired at 2:55 EST. The fifteen beams transfixing the
Leicester skyscraper swept through the lower eight stories which made up
the sects headquarters. They used a scan pattern, switching between
vertical and horizontal to cover every cubic centimetre. When the beams
were aimed right through the core of the skyscraper, the energy was
absorbed by the structure, while furnishings and composite walls ignited
instantly under the intense radiation barrage. Thick, radiant orange
lines were scratched across the carbon-concrete support pillars and
floors as the beams traversed the building. The air was superheated,
dissolving into its component atoms. Windows detonated outward from the
appalling pressure, showering the street below with daggers of glass.

Fire sprinklers burst into life, only for their water to vaporise first
into steam then clouds of ions. Glaring blue and violet streamers jetted
out of the smashed windows, and fountained up the skyscrapers elevator
shafts. Ruptured air-conditioning ducts provided secondary routes for the
heatstorm to pervade the building. The entire lower floors were engulfed
in a dazzling fireball.

Human bodies caught within the flexing three-dimensional mesh of beams
burst apart from the terrible energy input. Their water content exploded
into steam as the carbon combusted. When the beams reached the outer
sections of the skyscraper, they were powerful enough to pierce clean
though the walls. Surrounding skyscrapers were strafed with the
radiation, resulting in vast tracts of damage. Then the sharp spires of
ions exhaled by the Leicester played across their outer walls, igniting
dozens of ordinary fires.

The gamma ray lasers switched off. The night was filled with the roar of
flames and the screams of those being burnt alive. There was enough light
thrown out from the fires to light the entire district. Unharmed
residents of the nearby buildings lucky enough to live on the lower
floors rushed onto the street; while those higher up could only stare out
helplessly as the flames took hold. The images they relayed to the news
agencies, which were distributed across the planet in real-time, showed
the GISD tactical teams marching down every approach road to the
Leicester. Against the raging orange flames, their heat-proof flexarmour
suits appeared as matt-black silhouettes. Weapons with long snouts were
cradled casually on their arms as they walked into the conflagration with
astounding nonchalance.

Three times, figures rushed out of the skyscrapers main entrance doors,
making their bid for freedom. They were like fire monsters, flames
shooting from every part of their bloated figures. The tactical team guns
spat short pulses of turquoise flame with quiet efficiency, and the fiery
creatures crumpled to burn unhindered on the wide sidewalk.

It was those scenes of perfunctory extermination which finally convinced
the world that the possessed had somehow penetrated the titanic defences
of the Halo. The political fallout was considerable. A motion of
impeachment was put before the Govcentral Grand Senate, condemning the
President for not informing the senatorial defence committee in advance.
The President, who could hardly publicly admit to knowing nothing about
the situation, fired the chiefs of GISD Bureaus 1 through 4, for gross
insubordination and overreaching their authority. The GISDs New York
chief was charged with reckless homicide, and put under immediate arrest.
Such machinations went almost unnoticed by the public, who were fed a
continual stream of updates of the on-the-ground aftermath by the news
agencies.

Once the tactical teams had confirmed that there were no possessed left
alive in any of the sect covens, they withdrew. Only then were the
emergency services allowed in. It took ten hours for the fire department
mechanoids to extinguish the last fires. Paramedic crews followed them
through the burnt out floors. The arcology hospitals were swamped by
casualties. Preliminary insurance damage estimates ran into hundred of
millions of G-dollars. Dome Ones mayor, in conjunction with the other
fourteen mayors of the arcology, instigated an official day of mourning,
and opened a bereavement fund.

Officially, one thousand two hundred and thirty-three people died in the
assault against the New York possessed; nearly half as a result of being
hit by gamma radiation. The rest were either burned or asphyxiated. Over
nine thousand needed hospital treatment for minor burns, shock, and other
injuries. Double that number lost their homes; with several hundred
businesses forced to try and relocate. The vac-trains in and out of New
York remained closed.



Well? North Pacific asked. It was five hours after the tactical teams
had finished their sweep of the covens, and B7 had reconvened to hear the
genuine results.

We got a hundred and eight possessed, thats the best estimate I can
provide. There wasnt a hell of a lot left for the forensic crew to
analyse after the gamma lasers finished.

Im more interested in the ones you didnt eliminate.

Eight of the electrocution traps we rigged along possible escape routes
were triggered. The teams pulled eleven corpses out of various ducts and
service tunnels.

Quit stalling! South America said. Did any of them get out?

Probably, yes. Forensics thinks maybe three or four people got past the
electrocution traps. Theres no way of telling if they were possessed or
not, but it would take one inhumanly tough mother to survive what we
threw at them.

Shit! Were right back where we started. Youre going to have to
initiate this kind of slaughter operation each time they regroup. Only
now they dont have any convenient sects to flee back to.

Well this time, Im going to insist on keeping New Yorks vac-trains
shut, North Pacific said. We cant let them get out of New York.

I quite agree, Western Europe said.

Only because you cant risk another vote.

Theres no need to get personal. We remain on top of the situation.

Really? Wheres Dexter, then?

When the time comes, I will eliminate him.

Youre so full of shit.



The K5 star had a catalogue number, but that was all. Only three planets
were in orbit around it, two of them smaller than Mars, and a gas giant
fifty-thousand kilometres in diameter. Undistinguished in astronomical
terms, it lay forty-one light-years outside the loose boundary of space
claimed by the Confederation. There had been a single scoutship visit in
2530, which quickly established its worthlessness. As far as official
records were concerned, that was the first and last time humans had
visited the barren system. Certainly the Navy never bothered with it;
their patrols were stretched thinly enough as it was searching for
illegal activity within the Confederation and through the stars fringing
the boundary. Although the surrounding wreath of stars was an obvious
location for illegal operations (and several highly dubious independent
colony ventures), forty-one light-years was just too far away to justify
the expense of regular inspection flights.

Such a safeguard made it ideal for the black cartel. Their antimatter
station orbited five million kilometres from the stars surface, a
closeness which stretched human materials science to its limit. The
radiation, heat, particle, and magnetic forces it encountered were
appalling. An approaching ship would see it as a simple black disk
sailing across the incandescent solar glare. Sixty kilometres in
diameter, it cast a significant cone-shaped umbra behind it; a zone
insulated from the stars heat, the one place where hells proverbial
snowflake might just have survived. The surface facing the star was a
radial concertina array of solid state cells absorbing the incredible
blast of heat and converting it directly into electricity. At the back
they glowed a gentle pink, utilizing their own shade to radiate the
immense thermal load away into space. In total, the array was capable of
generating over one and a half terawatts of electricity.

The antimatter production system itself was housed in a cluster of boxy
silver-white industrial modules right in the centre of the array. The
mundane method of churning out antimatter was essentially unchanged since
the late Twentieth Century; although the levels of scale and efficiency
had risen considerably since the first few experimental antiprotons had
been manufactured in high-energy physics laboratories. Production
requires individual protons to be accelerated until their energy becomes
greater than a giga-electron-volt, at which point each one has more
energy in its motion than its mass. Once that state has been achieved,
they are collided with heavy nuclei, resulting in a spray of elementary
particles that includes antiprotons, antielectrons, and antineutrons.
These are then separated, collected, cooled, and merged into
antihydrogen. But it is that initial proton acceleration stage which
absorbs the phenomenal amount of electricity produced by the solar array
in its entirety.

The whole operation was overseen by a crew of twenty-five technicians,
stationed in a large, heavily-shielded rotating carbotanium wheel that
floated deep inside the arrays umbra. They had now been joined by eight
members of the Organization to keep them in line. Taking over the station
had been absurdly easy.

Because the black cartel took the elementary precaution of installing its
own modified neural nanonics in everyone who knew of the stations
location, there could only ever be two kinds of visitor: the
Confederation Navy on a search and destroy mission, or a legitimate
buyer. The arrival of Capones lieutenants came as a severe shock to the
crew. The few hand weapons available were utterly useless against the
possessed; their only other option was to kamikaze. Once the
Organizations terms and conditions had been laid on the line, that was
postponed indefinitely. The same kind of uneasy stand-off balance between
need and fear that had claimed New California settled across the station.

After supplying the first Organization convoy with every gram of
antimatter held in storage, the station had been operating a full
production schedule ever since, attempting to cope with Capones
desperate demands for more. Starships came from New California every five
or six days for new supplies.



Admiral Saldanas squadron made no attempt at stealth or subtlety when it
jumped into the system, emerging twenty-five million kilometres from the
star. Navy starships always had a tremendous advantage against the
stations they hunted. Deep inside the stars gravity field, there could
be no quick escape for the stations crew. Defensive weapons were almost
useless. Not even antimatter propulsion and warheads could produce their
usual overwhelming advantage; in such proximity to the star, combat wasp
sensors were almost blind.

Standard procedure for the Navy starships was to launch a volley of
kinetic projectiles in a retrograde orbit. It was a tactic that would
quickly exhaust the stations stock of drones, leaving them with beam
weapons alone. Against a swarm of ten thousand harpoons, their chances of
vaporizing every one before it hit was effectively nil. That was assuming
the station sensors were even capable of locating the incoming missiles
to begin with. In most cases the hellish solar environment completely
masked their approach. And the Navy vessels would never issue a warning,
the station might never know of their presence until the first missile
struck.

All the attackers needed was a single strike against the production
system. Any large explosion would inevitably set off a chain reaction
within the antimatter storage chambers. The resulting blast could at
times be five or six times the size of a planet-buster, depending on how
much of the substance was in store.

This time it was going to have to be a little different. Meredith Saldana
waited impatiently on the Arikaras bridge while the voidhawks deployed
around the star in small swallow manoeuvres. Each of them launched a pack
of small sensor satellites to scan the huge magnetosphere in which they
were all immersed.

Locating the station was easy enough, though the sheer volume of space
they were searching through made it a lengthy task. The Arikaras
tactical situation computer started to receive datavises from the
satellites, blending them into a harmonized picture of the whole
near-solar environment. When the information was complete, it showed the
star as a dark sphere surrounded with graded shells of pale gold
translucence. The innermost seethed like a restless sea as the magnetic
forces fluxed and coiled, above that they smoothed out considerably.

A tiny knot of twisted copper light was sliding along a circular, five
million kilometre orbit. The squadrons comparative position was fed in,
and Meredith began issuing orders. Because of their vulnerability to the
stars heat and radiation, the voidhawks maintained their orbits,
enabling them to keep watch for any emerging starships. The Adamist
starships flew inward. Eight frigates were vectored into high inclination
orbits, a location from which they could launch a kinetic assault on the
station. The remaining starships, including Lady Macbeth, aligned
themselves on an interception course and accelerated along it at three
gees.

When they were three million kilometres away, the Arikara pointed her
main communication dish on the station, and boosted the signal to full
strength.

This communiqu is directed to the station commander, Meredith
datavised. This is the Confederation Navy ship Arikara. Your illegal
operation is now terminated. Ordinarily, you would be executed for your
actions in producing antimatter, but I have been authorized to offer you
transport to a Confederation penal colony planet if you cooperate with
us. This offer is also applicable to any possessed who are resident at
the station. I will require your answer within one hour. Failure to
respond will be taken as a refusal to cooperate, and you will be
destroyed. He datavised the flight computer to repeat the message, and
the squadron waited.

It took ten minutes for a static-heavy signal to emerge from the station.
This is Renko, Im the guy Al left in charge around here. And Im
telling you to get the fuck out of here before we smear your pansy asses
across the sun. You got that clear, pal?

Meredith glanced across the bridges acceleration couches to where
Lieutenant Grese was lying. The intelligence officer managed to grin,
despite the gee force. Thats a break, he said. We got Capones
source, no matter what the outcome.

I believe the Navy is due a break, Meredith said. Especially our
section of it.

Hell have to stop those bloody infiltration flights now. His fleet will
need all the antimatter theyve got left to defend New California.

Indeed. Meredith was almost cheerful when he ordered the computer to
datavise a reply to the station. Consult your crew, Renko. Youre in the
losing position here. All we have to do is launch a single missile once
an hour. You have to fire five each time just to make sure it doesnt get
through. And were in no hurry, we can keep shooting at you for a couple
of weeks if we have to. Theres just no way you can win. Now are you
going to accept my offer, or do you want to go back to the beyond?

Nice try, but you dont mean it. Not for us, leastways. I know you guys,
youll slam us into zero-tau the second we put our hands up.

For what its worth, I am Rear Admiral Meredith Saldana, and you have my
word that you will be given passage to an uninhabited world capable of
supporting human life. Consider your alternatives. If we attack the
station, you go back to the beyond, if Im lying about transporting you
to a planet you go back. But there is the very strong possibility that
Im not lying. Can you really reject that hope?

Along with the rest of the squadron, Joshua had to wait another twenty
minutes for the answer. Eventually, Renko agreed to surrender. Looks
like were on, Joshua said. They were accelerating hard again,
preventing him from smiling. But there was no hiding the rise of
excitement in his labouring voice.

Christ, the other side of the nebula, Liol marvelled. Whats the
furthest anyones ever been before?

A voidhawk scout group travelled six hundred and eighty light years from
Earth in 2570, Samuel replied. Their course took them directly galactic
north, not in this direction.

I missed that, Ashly complained. Was there anything interesting out
there?

Samuel closed his eyes, questioning the voidhawks racing along their
orbits millions of kilometres away. Nothing unusual, or dramatic. Stars
with possible terracompatible planets, stars without. No sentient xenoc
species.

The Meridian fleet went further, Beaulieu said.

Only according to legend, Dahybi countered. Nobody knows where they
vanished to. In any case, that was centuries ago.

Logically then, they must have gone a long way if no ones ever found
them.

Found the wreckage, more like.

Such pessimism is bad for you.

Really? Hey, Monica. Dahybi lifted one hand to make an appeal before
the acceleration made him lower it fast again. Do your lot know where
they went? It could be important if theyre waiting out there for us.

Monica stared stubbornly at the compartments ceiling, a headache
building behind her compressed eyeballs that no program could rid her of.
She really hated high gees. No, she datavised (her throat was suffering
along with the rest of her), irritated she couldnt put any emphasis into
her digitalized speech. Not that snapping at the crew would endear her to
them, but their relentless discussions of utter trivia were starting to
chafe. And shed possibly got a month or more to go. The ESA was in its
infancy back when the Meridian fleet was launched. Even today I doubt
wed bother planting assets in with a bunch of paradise seeking fools.

I dont want to know whats there, Joshua said. The whole point of
this mission is discovery. Were real explorers going out on a limb,
first for at least a century.

Amen to that, Ashly said.

Where we are now is new for most people, Liol said. Just look at that
station.

Standard industrial modules, Dahybi said. Hardly exotic or inspiring.
Liol sighed sadly.

Okay, were getting close to injection point, Joshua announced.
Systems review, please. Hows our fuselage holding out? The flight
computer was datavising images from the localized sensors into his neural
nanonics. Lady Macs thermo dump panels were fully extended, constantly
rotating to present their narrow edges towards the raging star. Their
flat surfaces were glowing radiant pink as they expelled the ships
accumulated heat. Hed programmed a permanent spin into their vector, a
fifteen minute cycle to ensure the immense thermal input was distributed
evenly across the fuselage. Fine manoeuvring was slow, given the
additional reaction mass they were carrying, but the balance compensation
programs were handling it providing he kept tweaking them.

No hot spots yet, Sarha reported. That extra layer of nulltherm foam
is doing its job quite well. But it is picking up a lot of particle
radiation, far more than were used to. Well have to watch that.

Should lose it when we get behind the shield, Liol said. Wont be long
now.

See? Beaulieu told Dahybi. You are surrounded by optimists.

The squadrons interception ships were sliding into an orbital slot three
thousand kilometres behind the antimatter station. If Renko did decide to
switch off the storage confinement chambers, the radiation impact from
the blast would tax the shielding on the starships to an uncomfortable
degree. But they should be safe. So far, he appeared to be cooperating.

Commander Kroeber was handling the negotiation on how the hand over was
to be accomplished. The civil starship already docked at the station was
to depart with everyone on board. It would rendezvous with one of the
squadrons marine cruisers. The possessed would disembark and proceed
directly to the brig under heavily armed guard where they would stay for
the duration of the flight. Any indication of them using their energistic
power, for whatever reason, would result in a forty-thousand-volt current
being run through the brig. The cruiser, accompanied by two frigates,
would fly directly to an uninhabited terracompatible world (currently in
the middle of an ice age) where the possessed would be shot down to the
tropical-zone surface in one-way descent capsules, with a supply of
survival equipment. There would be no further contact with that planet by
the Confederation, apart from delivering any further possessed with whom
similar exceptional deals had been made.

Kroebers other offer, that they help the CNIS with its research into
energistic power until such time as a solution was found for possession,
was summarily rejected.

Once the possessed were safely incarcerated, another marine cruiser would
rendezvous with the starship and take off the stations regular crew
ready to transport them to a penal planet. Complete control of the
station systems was to be handed over to the Navy technical crew, who
would remote test their new domain. If total access was confirmed, a
third marine cruiser would dock with the station itself, and perform a
boarding and securement manoeuvre.

After some haggling, mainly over the contents of the survival equipment
they could take with them down to the icy planet, Renko agreed to the
arrangement. Lady Macbeths crew watched the proceedings through the
sensors. The hand-over went remarkably smoothly, taking just less than a
day. A datavise from the first marine cruiser showed the possessed,
dressed defiantly in double-breasted suits, laughing brashly as they were
led into the brig. The station crew looked frankly relieved that theyd
escaped with exile. They datavised over their access codes without a
qualm.

You may proceed to docking, Captain Calvert, Admiral Saldana datavised.
Lieutenant Grese informs me we are now in full command of the station.
There is enough antimatter in storage for your requirements.

Thank you, sir, Joshua replied. He triggered the fusion drives. The
simple course over to the station had been plotted for hours. Accelerate,
flip, and decelerate. They were already inside the stations umbra and
commencing final rendezvous manoeuvres when the Organizations convoy
arrived.



Eleven of them, sir, Lieutenant Rhoecus said. Confirmed emergence
twenty-three million miles out from the star, eighty-nine million miles
from the station.

Threat assessment? the admiral enquired. How typical, he thought, that
something should come along to thwart the squadrons mission once again.

Minimal. The Edenist liaison officer appeared almost happy. Ilex and
Oenone report there are five hellhawks and six frigates in the enemy
formation. Their hellhawks cant swallow down to us, not at this
altitude. And even if we assume the frigates are armed with antimatter
combat wasps, they would take hours to reach us accelerating continually.
Ive never heard of a combat wasp that has an hours fuel in it.

Theyd have to be custom built, Grese said. Which is unlikely for
Capone. And even if they do exist, we can evade them easily at this
distance.

Then Calvert can carry on? the admiral asked.

Yes, sir.

Very well. Kroeber, inform the Lady Macbeth to proceed as planned. Id
appreciate it if the good captain didnt dawdle.

Aye, sir.

Meredith reviewed the tactical display. The Oenone was barely five
million kilometres from the cluster of Organization ships. Lieutenant
Rhoecus, voidhawks to group together twenty-five million kilometres
directly above the antimatter station. I dont want them isolated, it
might give the hellhawks ideas. Commander Kroeber, move the rest of the
squadron up to rendezvous with the voidhawks, the frigates in high
inclination orbits to meet us there. Two of our frigates to remain with
the station until Lady Macbeth has completed her fuelling. Once theyre
at a safe distance, the station is to be destroyed.

Aye, sir.

Meredith instructed the tactical computer to compile options. The
resulting assessment just about matched his own opinion. The two sides
were evenly matched. He had more ships, but the Organization was expected
to be armed with antimatter combat wasps. And if he did order the
squadron up to intercept, it would take hours to reach them. The
Organization ships could simply jump away, leaving only the voidhawks to
pursue themwho would then be outgunned.

Effectively, it was a stand-off. Neither side could do much to affect the
other.

Yet I cannot allow them to go unchallenged, Meredith thought, it sets a
bad precedent. Lieutenant Grese? What do we know about the non-possessed
crews on board Organization ships? Just how much of a hold does Capone
have on them?

According to the debriefings weve conducted; they all have family being
held captive on Monterey. Capone is very careful about who is given
command authority over antimatter. So far its a strategy thats worked
for him. A number of crews on ordinary Organization starships have
managed to eliminate their possessed officers and desert. But weve never
had any indication of attempted mutiny on ships equipped with antimatter.

Pity, Meredith grunted as the Arikara started to accelerate up to the
rendezvous with the voidhawks. Nevertheless, Ill issue them with the
same ultimatum as the station was given. Who knows, the opportunity to
capitulate might be enough to spark a small rebellion.



Etchells listened to the admirals message as it was beamed out to the
convoy. Slippery, vague promises of pardons and safe passage. None of it
was relevant to him.

<< We repeat Edenisms offer to you, >>the voidhawks added. << You may
transfer your hosts personality over to us, and we will provide your
nutrient fluid. All we ask in return is your help in finding a
satisfactory resolution. >>

<< Dont any of you bastards even answer, >>Etchells warned his fellow
hellhawks. << Theyre running scared. They wouldnt make that kind of
offer unless they were absolutely desperate. >>

He could sense the uncertainty rumbling through their affinity bond. But
none of them were brave enough to challenge him directly. Satisfied hed
kept them in line for now, Etchells asked the convoys commander what he
intended to do. Withdraw, came the answer, theres nothing else we can do.

Etchells wasnt so sure. The Navy hadnt destroyed the station. And that
went against everything the Confederation stood for. There had to be a
phenomenal reason for such a change of policy. We should stay, he told
the convoy commander. They cannot engage us for hours yet. That gives us
a chance to discover what they are doing here. If theyre going to start
using antimatter against us, Capone should be told. Reluctantly, the
commander agreed. However, he did order the Adamist ships to accelerate
towards a new jump coordinate that would take them back to New
California, leaving the hellhawks to observe the station.

It was difficult to look directly into that dangerous glare. Etchellss
sensor blisters began to suffer from glare spots, similar to purple
after-images which plagued human eyes. He started to roll lazily,
flicking his ebony wingtips to bank against the gusts of solar particles,
switching the view between the blisters. Even then, concentrating on that
tiny speck millions of kilometres away was inordinately stressful. A
headache began to pound away inside his stolen neurone structure.

None of the electronic sensors loaded into his cargo cradles were any
use, they were mostly military systems, intended for close defence work.
And his distortion field couldnt reach that far. The visual spectrum
provided him with the greatest coverage. He could see the Navys Adamist
ships accelerating up out of the stars enormous gravity field, little
sparks of light, actually brighter than the photosphere.

After half an hour, three more fusion drives ignited around the station.
Two of them started to follow the Navy squadron. The last one took a
different course altogether; curving round the stars southern hemisphere
on a very high inclination trajectory.

Etchells opened his beak wide to let out an imaginary warble of success.
Whatever it was doing, the lone starship had to be the reason behind the
Navys strange action. He issued a flurry of instructions to the other
hellhawks. Despite his brute-boy attitude, Etchells had actually absorbed
a great deal of information from his hosts mentality. The facade of
toughness was a deliberate ployalways let your opponents believe youre
dumber than you are. Becoming Kieras most dependable and trusted
hellhawk made sure she wouldnt risk him on those mad seeding flights, or
any other dangerous actions. Convoy escort was about the safest duty to
pull.

Wasted decades spent bumming round pointless mercenary actions across the
Confederation, had taught him to disguise his true potential. Survival
was dependent on intelligence and the lowest cunning, not worthy courage.
And he knew for sure that surviving his current situation was going to
take a great deal of ingenuity. Like Rocio in the Mindori, he had come to
admire his new bitek form, finding it utterly superior to a human body.
Quite how he could hang on to it was a question hed been unable to
resolve. There would be no place for hellhawks in the place where
possessed took their planets to escape the universe, he was sure. And the
Confederation would never rest until theyd solved the problem of how to
evict souls back into the beyond permanently.

So he bided his time, keeping a giant yellowing eye open for some
opportunity to save his own ass, and to hell with his comrades.

The Navys unconventional behaviour might just be the break hed been
looking for.

When the last three starships were thirty thousand kilometres from the
antimatter station, it exploded with a violence which outshone the
prominence arching through the chromosphere below. As if in
acknowledgement of their defeat, the hellhawks swallowed away.

The voidhawks analysed the way their distortion fields applied energy
against space-time to open a wormhole interstice. All five hellhawks
appeared to be heading back to New California.

<< They have left the remaining frigates extremely vulnerable, >>Auster,
Ilexs captain, reported to Rhoecus. << What are the admirals orders? >>

<< Hold your position. If you attack they will just jump clear. We could
harass them all the way home, but there is no tactical advantage to be
gained from that. Our objective has been accomplished. >>

<< Very well. >>

<< Syrinx. >>

<< Yes, Rhoecus. >>

<< Oenone >><< is cleared to rendezvous with the Lady Macbeth. The
admiral wishes you both bon voyage. >>

<< Thank you. >>



Etchells didnt believe the voidhawks would follow, certainly not
instantaneously. The hellhawks all swallowed ten light-years clear of the
star, then swallowed again three seconds later. Unless a voidhawk had
been with them to observe the second swallow, there was no way of knowing
where theyd gone.

Four of them carried on back to New California. Etchells returned
directly to the star, emerging twenty-two million kilometres above its
south pole. With the voidhawks all clustered together in their
twenty-five million kilometre equatorial orbit, there was no way they
could detect his wormhole terminus opening and closing. His position was
ideal to observe the Navy starships flying out from their low orbit. His
sensor blisters didnt have to focus against the overwhelming white
blaze. Even his headache started to fade.

He did keep a cursory watch on the Navy ships as they rose out of the
gravity field, but it was the lone ship heading south that interested
him. When it was twenty million kilometres from the star its drive cut
out. Etchells projected its course, and started to check his captured
spatial memories. Given its jump alignment there were twenty possible
Confederation systems it could be heading for. And one other. Hesperi-LN.
The Tyrathca planet.


Chapter 12
==========


Fifteen minutes Courtney sat up at the bar waiting. Four men offered to
buy her a drink. Not as many as usual, but then there were very few
civilians abroad these days. Even the Blue Orchid was suffering from the
scare stories flashing across the net, its numbers well down. Normally it
would be jammed at this time of night; the kind of not-quite-sleazy club
where lower-middle management could hang out after work and not have to
worry if someone else from the company saw them. Courtney had been in a
lot worse than this. The doormen didnt give her any hassle even though
her ass was virtually hanging out of her cocktail dress. Courtney liked
the dress, cool black fabric with straps on the front to hold her titties
up high, and more cross straps down the cut out back. It made her look
hot, without being too cheap.

Banneth said she looked good wearing it. Best thing the sect had ever
done putting her in this dress; shed never been so fem before. And it
worked. There hadnt been a night she didnt deliver for them. Sometimes
twice. It was a good gig, taking the men back to one of the student rent
hotels where the sect had squeezed the manager. Then as soon as the
marks pants were off, Billy-Joe, Rav, and Julie would storm in and kick
the shit out of him. Then when he was unconscious Billy-Joe took a
recording of his biolectric pattern and emptied his credit disk.

Shed done much the same thing for all of the last three years since her
brother introduced her to the Light Bringer. Except to start with shed
attracted paedopervs, who mostly had their own dens to take her to, or
just hauled her into the dark end of a downtown alley. Those days, it had
been Quinn Dexter who pimped her. In a strange way, shed always been
safer with him in charge. No matter how big a sicko the man was, Quinn
had always arrived in time.

Now she was fifteen, and too big to pass for a juvenile any more. Banneth
had switched the hormones she took. This new batch didnt prevent her
breasts from growing; quite the opposite, they promoted development.
Shed still got a skinny frame, but now she was huge with it. In the last
nine months her targets had changed completely. It wasnt the pervs who
wanted her now, just the losers. Courtney reckoned shed come out of the
alteration okay. Big tits was one of the mildest modifications Banneth
made to sect members.

The fifth man to ask if she was all right and did her glass need
freshening had what it took. Overweight, round face with perspiration on
his brow, hair slicked back with gel, a good suit cleaned too often. His
expression was hesitant, ready for a slapdown. Courtney drained her
glass, and held it out to him, smiling. Thanks.

He was too fat to dance. That was a shame, she liked to dance. So that
meant having to sit and listen to about an hour of bitchinghis boss, his
family, his apartment; how none of it was going right for him. The drone
was so shed see he was a real genuine guy whod had a couple of bad
breaks lately, hoping for the sympathy fuck.

She made all the right sounds at the right places. After this time
working the arcologys clubs she could probably have filled in his life
story just by looking at him. Proof of that: she never chose wrong. They
always had a loaded disk. After the hour and three drinks he had enough
nerve to make his innocent suggestion. To his utter surprise the answer
was a demure smile and a hurried nod.

It wasnt far to the student hall, which was good. Courtney didnt like
getting into a cab with them; there was too much chance Billy-Joe might
lose her. She didnt look to see if the three sect members were trailing
after her down the street. Theyd be there. This was a real smooth
routine now.

Twice though, she thought she heard footsteps following. Real
distinctive, regular thuds of someone using a lot of metal in their
heels. Dumb idea, there was a whole bunch of people walking along the
street. When she did snatch a look, there was no one she could see that
looked like a cop. Just a bunch of civilians scurrying around, making out
their stupid lives meant something.

The cops were her only worry. Even given the fact less than a quarter of
the targets reported the assault and theft, it wouldnt take an AI to
spot the pattern. But Banneth would know if there was any sort of
operation being mounted. Banneth knew fucking everything going down in
Edmonton. It was scary, sometimes. Courtney knew some of the sects
acolytes didnt really believe in Gods Brother, they were just too
shit-scared of Banneth to step out of line.

This is it, she told the man. Theyd stopped outside the worn entrance
of a two-century-old skyscraper. A couple of genuine students were
sitting on the steps, taking charges from a power inhaler. They looked at
Courtney with glazed uncaring eyes. She pulled the man past and into the
foyer.

In the elevator he made his first tentative move. Going for a kiss, which
she let him have. Tongue straight down her throat. He didnt have time
for anything more; the room theyd hijacked for the night was on the
third floor. Its real owner lost somewhere in the arcology as the black
stimulant program shorted out her neurones.

What are you studying? he asked once they were inside.

That caught her short. She didnt have a story in place for thathe
wasnt supposed to care. Nothing to help here, either. The room was a
usual students jumble, badly lit with fleks and clothes everywhere, a
decades-old desktop block on the one shabby table. Courtney didnt read
too good, so she couldnt tell what the tiny print on the flek cases said.

Easy way out. She shoved the shoulder straps down, and let her tits
bobble free. That shut him up. It took him about thirty seconds to push
her down on the bed, then one hand was up her skirt while the other was
squeezing a tit crudely. She groaned like it was good, hoping Billy-Joe
and the others got a fucking move on. Sometimes the shits waited and let
the man fuck her. Watching the show through some sensor or peep hole,
getting off on the scene and laughing quietly. They always claimed it
looked less like a set-up if they came in afterwards. Banneth laughed too
if she complained.

The mans hand was tugging at her panties. Mouth all hot and slobbering
over a nipple. Courtney tried not to grimace. Then she was shivering, as
if the conditioning duct had suddenly dumped a shitload of ice into the
air.

He gave out a single puzzled grunt, pulling his head back. They looked at
each other for an instant, both equally bewildered. Then a white hand
clamped over his gelled hair, yanking his head away from her. He yelled
in shock and pain as he was pulled off her and flung over the room. His
flabby body hit the opposite wall with a loud crash, and crumpled to the
floor. A figure in a black robe was standing at the side of the bed,
blank hood tipped down towards Courtney. She drew in a breath to shriek,
knowing fucking well this wasnt Billy-Joe or any of the others.

Dont, the figure warned. The darkness inside the hood withered to
reveal the face.

Quinn! Courtney squeaked. A smile flicked her lips. Quinn? Gods
Brother, where the fuck did you come from? I thought you got transported.

Long story. Tell you in a minute. He turned and went over to the
quivering man, grabbed his head and pulled back viciously. The mans
throat was exposed along its entire length, skin stretched tight.

Quinn, what are you . . . Urrgh! Courtney watched in a kind of
interested shock as a couple of sharp fangs slid out of Quinns mouth. He
winked at her as he lowered his head to bite the mans neck. She could
see Quinns Adams apple bobbing as he sucked down the blood, several
drops dribbled past his lips. The man was whimpering in high-pitched
terror. Oh fuck, Quinn, thats disgusting.

Quinn stood up, grinning, and wiped the back of his hand across his
mouth, smearing the blood. No its not. Its the final conquest. Blood
is the best food a human can have. Think on it; every nutrient you need
all nicely refined and cooked ready for you. Its your right to take it
from the followers of the false lord you defeat. Use them to make you
strong, Courtney, replenish your body. He looked down at the fat man who
was clutching the neck wound desperately. Blood was pouring through his
fingers.

Courtney giggled at the feeble gurgling sounds the man was making.
Youve changed.

So have you.

Yeah! She cupped her tits and lifted them. Grew these for a start.
Good, arent they?

Gods Brother, Courtney, you are a total slut.

She straightened a leg and dangled her shoe from one toe. I like what I
am, Quinn. Thats my serpent beast, remember? Dignity is a weakness,
along with all the other crap on the middle-class wish list.

You did listen to the sermons.

Sure did.

So hows Banneth?

Same, I guess.

Not for long. Im back now. He held out his hands, making simple
gestures. The room began to change; the walls darkening, furniture
turning to matt black cast iron. Manacles appeared on the metal railings
at the head of the bed.

Courtney looked round wildly at the manifestations, and scrambled
backwards over the crumpled duvet, cramming herself into a corner away
from Quinn. Shit, youre a possessed!

Not me, he said softly. I possess. I am the one Gods Brother has
chosen as his Messiah. This power the returning souls have depends on the
force of their will. And nobody believes in themselves more than me.
Thats how I regained control of my body, through the belief He gave me
in myself. Now Im stronger than a hundred of those snivelling lost
dickheads.

Courtney unfolded her legs and peered forward. It is you, isnt it. I
mean, like really you. Youve got your own body and everything.

You never were very quick, were you? But then, it was never your brain
the sect wanted.

Were you in New York? she asked in quiet admiration. I saw all the
fighting on the AV. The police killed skyscrapers full of people they
were so scared.

I was there a while back. I was also in Paris, Bombay, and Johannesburg,
which the police dont know about yet. Then I gave in to myself, and came
home.

Im glad you did. Courtney bounded off the bed, and flung her arms
round him, licking from his ear to his mouth. Welcome back.

You will follow me now, not Banneth.

Yes. She slid her tongue over the tacky blood congealing on his chin,
tasting its salt.

You will obey.

Of course.

Quinn focused on the thought currents in her brain, and knew she was
telling the truth. Not that hed expected anything else from Courtney. He
opened the door and let the other three in. Billy-Joe and Rav he knew
from before; it hadnt taken much to cow them. Five people standing made
the little student room badly cramped, their breath helping to heat it
up. Fast breathing which came from nerves and excitement. They were all
eager to see what Quinn would do next.

I came back to Earth so I could bring down the Night, he told them.
Youll play a big part in that, and so will the possessed. Im going to
leave a nest of you in every arcology. But Edmonton is special for me,
because Banneths here.

What you going to do to her? Billy-Joe asked.

Quinn patted the slender youths wire-like arm. The worst I can
imagine, he said. And Ive spent a lot of time imagining.

Billy-Joes mouth split into an oafish grin. All right!

Quinn looked down at the fat man. He was gasping like a fish. Blood had
formed an enormous puddle on the scuffed tile floor. Youre dying,
Quinn said cheerfully. Only one way to save you now. Fields of energy
shifted at his command, exerting a specific pressure against reality. The
cries of the souls began to filter out of the beyond. Courtney, hurt
him.

She shrugged to the others, and kicked the man hard in the crotch. He
shivered, eyes bugging before the lids began to flutter uncontrollably.
An extra squirt of blood pumped out of the wound.

And again, Quinn directed mildly. In his mind, he was dictating terms
to the lost souls who clustered round the weak rent between universes.
Hearing the pleas of those who claimed they were worthy. Making his
judgement.

Courtney did as she was told, watching in fascination as a soul (a real
dead person!) took control of the wretched man. The wound closed up. He
started hissing in consternation. Tiny rivulets of lightning slithered
along the creases of his blood-soaked suit fabric.

Give him something to drink, Quinn said.

Billy-Joe and Julie ransacked the cupboards for cans of soda, popping
them and handing them down to the grateful possessed.

Itll take you a while to replace that much blood, Quinn said. Just
lie there and take it easy for a while. Enjoy the show.

Yes, Quinn, the possessed muttered weakly. He managed to roll onto his
back, the effort coming close to making him faint.

The iron manacles snapped open loudly. Courtney took one look at them,
and glanced back enquiringly at Quinn. His robe was already dissolving.
You know how to use them, he told her.

She wriggled out of her dress and bent over the bed, placing her wrists
in the manacles. They hinged shut, and locked.



Ilex emerged above Avon, radiating profound satisfaction (and
considerable hunger). Every Edenist within Trafalgar picked up the
emotional emission, and smiled simultaneously at the results Auster was
declaring. Lalwani immediately declassified the strike mission against
the antimatter station, and the navy press office started relaying the
information to the systems news companies. Everything happened so fast
that the First Admirals staff only just managed to officially brief
Jeeta Anwar before the Presidential office staff received it off the
communication net.

The voidhawks easy two-gee flight to the naval bases docking ledges was
considerably more relaxed than the last time it had burst out of wormhole
close to Trafalgar. General affinity hummed with a great many ironic
comments pointing this out to its triumphant crew.

Two hours after Ilexs arrival, Captain Auster was escorted into the
First Admirals office by Lieutenant Keaton, the newest member of the
admirals staff. Samual Aleksandrovich greeted the Edenist captain
warmly, and gestured to the sunken reception area. Lalwani and Kolhammer
joined them on the leather couches, while the lieutenant served tea and
coffee. As he was moving round with their china cups, the bulky AV
cylinder at the apex of the ceiling shimmered brightly, and the images of
President Haaker and Jeeta Anwar materialized in the reception area.

My congratulations to the Navy, Admirals, Captain, Haaker said. The
destruction of an antimatter station at this time is particularly
satisfying.

Capones antimatter station, Mr President, Kolhammer said
significantly. Thats a considerable bonus.

Essentially he will be unable to mount any more of these damnable
infiltration missions against Confederation planets, let alone attempt
another full scale invasion along the lines of Arnstat, Samual said.
That means hes been neutered. We shall now resume our harassment
campaign, and enhance it considerably this time around. That should wear
down the hellhawks, and deplete his stock of antimatter in defence. Given
its unstable social base, we expect the Organization to collapse within a
few weeks, two months at the most.

Unless he pulls another rabbit out of his capacious fedora, Haaker
said. I dont mean to disparage your action against the antimatter
station, Samual, but in Allahs name, it was a long time coming. Possibly
too long. According the latest report I have, nearly a third of Kerrys
population is now possessed, and its only a question of time until the
remainder are taken over. On top of that, we know of eleven other worlds
Capone has successfully managed to infiltrate. That means well lose
them, too, you know that as well as I do. And there will no doubt be
starships currently en route, telling us of more infiltrations launched
before the station was destroyed. Your pardon, but this success rings
hollow indeed.

What else would you have us do?

You know very well. How is Dr Gilmores project progressing?

Slowly, as Mae Ortlieb has been telling you.

Yes, yes. Haaker waved an irritable hand. Well keep me informed of any
further developments. Preferably ahead of the media.

Yes, Mr President.

The image of the President and his aide vanished.

Ungrateful old git, Kolhammer muttered.

Its understandable, Lalwani said. The Assembly is beginning to
resemble a zoo these days. The ambassadors have realized that for once
their magnificent speeches alone arent going to solve this crisis.
Theyre shouting for action, though of course they dont name a specific.

The antimatter ought to relieve a lot of pressure on the Navy,
Kolhammer said. We should be able to press individual governments to
maintain the civil starflight quarantine.

Theres still a lot of reticence there, Lalwani said. The smaller,
more distant asteroids are suffering badly from the economic situation.
To them, the conflict is a remote one. That justifies their clandestine
flights.

Its only remote until their selfish idiocy allows a possessed into
their settlement, Kolhammer snapped.

Were making progress on identifying the principal offenders, Lalwani
said. Im getting a lot of cooperation from other intelligence agencies.
Once weve confirmed the offence, the problem then becomes a diplomatic
one.

And everything goes pear-shaped, Kolhammer said. Bloody lawyers.

Samual put his tea cup down on the central rosewood table, and turned
directly to Auster. You were with Merediths squadron at Jupiter, I
believe?

Yes, Admiral, Auster said.

Good. I accessed all of your report on the antimatter station mission
while the Ilex was docking; and Id like you to tell me directly why
Consensus is sending two ships to the other side of the Orion nebula.
Specifically why one of them is the Lady Macbeth. I simply could not make
it plainer that I expected Captain Calvert and that despicable Mzu woman
to remain in Tranquillity, and incommunicado.

The voidhawk captain gave a slight bow, his face respectfully grave.
Despite all the mental bolstering which came from unity with other
Edenists, and his link with Ilex, facing the displeased First Admiral was
quite an ordeal. I assure you, Consensus regards the Alchemist problem
with the utmost seriousness. However, there was some on-the-ground
information available which required reassessing your proscription.

Samual Aleksandrovich settled back in the leather upholstery, knowing he
shouldnt enjoy playing the inflexible tyrant. Sometimes it was hard to
resist. Go on.

The Lord of Ruin has discovered that the Tyrathca religion may have some
physical basis.

I didnt know they had a religion, Kolhammer said. His neural nanonics
was running a search through various encyclopaedia files.

That was also something of a revelation, Auster said. But they do, and
their God would appear to be some kind of powerful artefact. They believe
it capable of saving them from human possessed.

So Consensus sent a pair of starships to investigate, Samual said.

Yes. Given the distance involved, the only kind of Adamist ship that can
get there is one that has an antimatter drive.

And such a flight also removes Calvert and Mzu from any possible contact
with the possessed. How very convenient.

Consensus considered it so, Admiral.

Samual laughed dryly. Lagrange Calvert meeting a real live god. What a
spectacle. We should be able to see that clash of egos from this side of
the nebula. Lalwani and Auster grinned in unison.

Well, there are slimmer straws to grasp, I suppose, Samual said. Thank
you, Captain, and my congratulations to Ilex on a successful mission.

The Edenist stood, and bowed formally. Admiral. Lieutenant Keaton went
with him to the door.

Although he considered it faintly ridiculous, if not rude, Samual waited
until Auster was outside before speaking to the other two admirals.
Privacy was a hard concept for him to abandon; and he knew Lalwani kept
their secure sessions confidential as a matter of courtesy. A god? he
asked Lalwani.

I dont know anything about it, she said. But Consensus wouldnt
embark on such a course unless it had a degree of confidence in the
result.

Very well, Samual said. Id like to receive a complete briefing from
the Jovian Consensus, please.

Ill see that were updated.

Until we are, we wont be including biblical salvation in our strategic
planning sessions.

Yes, Admiral.

That just leaves us with our last current problem, Samual said.
Mortonridge.

Could have told you that was a waste of time, Kolhammer retorted.

You did. Frequently. As did I. But it is first and foremost a
politically motivated campaign. However, we cannot ignore the fact it
isnt going quite to plan. This latest development is unnerving to say
the least. It also looks as though our marine battalions are going to be
tied up there for a longer than we originally estimated.

Longer! Ha, Kolhammer said in disgust. Have you accessed any of those
sensevises? God, that mud. The whole bloody Liberation is completely
stalled.

It hasnt stalled, theyre just encountering more problems than they
anticipated, Lalwani said.

Kolhammer chuckled, and raised his coffee cup in salute. Ive always
been a massive admirer of the Edenist ability to understate. But I think
defining a chunk of land fifteen kilometres across that suddenly takes
flight and wanders off into another dimension as a little problem is
possibly the best example yet.

I never said little.

Kettons disappearance isnt my main concern, Samual said. He received
the surprised look which the others gave him with calm humour. I was
thinking about the medical difficulties de-possession is leaving us with.
So far weve been fortunate the news companies have been playing it down,
but that wont last. People will eventually wake up to the implications
if were ever successful in returning planets like Lalonde and Norfolk to
this universe. Theres been a commendable effort by the Kingdoms allies
to assist with fresh medical supplies, but the number of cancer-related
deaths is still rising. He clicked his fingers at Keaton, who was
hovering near the samovar.

Sir. The lieutenant stepped forward. Trafalgars medical office have
been examining the consequences of depossession. Frankly, were lucky
Mortonridge doesnt have a larger population. The Kingdom and its allies
should just manage to provide enough nanonic packages to cope with two
million cancer patients. Though were dubious about correct application;
the number of experienced doctors is a critical factor. However, we
estimate that an entire planet of de-possessed, with an average
population of three quarters of a billion, would essentially exhaust the
entire Confederations medical facilities. To our knowledge, the
possessed have so far taken over eighteen planets, with several hundred
additional asteroid settlements. And we expect the planets Capone has
infiltrated will soon join them. Ultimately, we could be dealing with as
many as thirty planetary populations, possibly more than that.

Shit, Kolhammer exclaimed. He gave the youngish lieutenant a very
worried frown. So whats going to happen if we get them all back?

Given the development level of cancers weve seen on the de-possessed so
far, there will be a rapid and extremely high mortality rate among their
respective populations if they remain untreated.

Thats a very clinical way of putting it, lieutenant.

Yes, sir. You should also consider, the possessing souls are either
unaware of the damage theyre inflicting on their hosts, or are unable to
cure it. Their energistic power is capable of repairing physical injury,
but we havent seen them deal with this kind of illness yet. It may be
they cant.

What are you getting at? Lalwani asked.

Unless the biochemical environment on the planets theyve removed from
this universe is radically different in some way, then the possessed will
all be suffering like this no matter where they are. In which case, if
they dont start to effect some kind of treatment, their host bodies
might die.

Lalwanis shock was so vehement she couldnt prevent some of it from
leaking into the general affinity band. Edenists in the asteroid
automatically opened their minds, proffering emotional support.

Reluctantly, Lalwani refused. Thirty planetary populations? she
demanded, incredulous. She glanced from the lieutenant to the First
Admiral. You knew?

I accessed the report this morning, Samual admitted. And I havent
informed the President, yet. Let him get on top of the Assembly again
before we break news like this.

Dear God, Kolhammer muttered. If we pull them back from wherever
theyve gone, we wont be able to save them. And if we leave them alone,
they wont survive either. He gave Keaton a look that was almost a plea.
Did the medical office come up with any ideas?

Yes sir, they had two.

Finally! Someone with some bloody initiative. What are they?

The first is fairly simple. We broadcast a warning to the possessed
groups we know are still remaining in this universe. Ask them to stop
trying to change the appearance of their host bodies. It should appeal to
their own self interest.

If they dont just ignore it as propaganda, Lalwani said. By the time
a tumour actually becomes noticeable, its usually too late for primitive
medical treatments.

Nonetheless, we will definitely proceed with that option, Samual said.

And the second? Kolhammer asked.

We formally request the Kiint ambassador for help.

Kolhammer let out a disgusted breath. Ha! Those bastards wont help us.
Theyve already made that clear enough.

Um, sir? Keaton said. He gave the First Admiral a glance, and received
a nod of permission. They said they wouldnt provide us with a solution
to possession. In this case, were just asking them for material aid. We
know they have a more sophisticated technology than ours; human companies
have been buying upgrades and improvements for a variety of products ever
since we made contact with them. And now with the Tranquillity incident
we know they havent abandoned their manufacturing base as thoroughly as
they claimed. They may well be able to produce the kind of medical
systems we require in the quantities well need. After all, well only
have a use for them if we solve the possession problem for ourselves. If
the Kiint are as sympathetic as they assure us they are, then there is a
good chance theyll say yes.

Excellent analysis, Lalwani said. We cant possibly ignore the option.

I wasnt planning to, Samual said. In fact, Ive already requested a
personal meeting with Ambassador Roulor. Ill sound him out about the
prospect.

Good move, Kolhammer said. Thats a commendable advisory team your
medical office put together, Samual.



It felt strange to be back. Quinn stalked through the ghost realm,
observing the sects Edmonton headquarters. His peculiar, hazy perception
of the real world from this shadowed existence might account for his new
interpretation of the familiar rooms and corridors. Or it could just be
time and a very different attitude to when he was last here.

This had been home for many years. A place of refuge and of terror. Now
it was just a cluster of gloomy chambers, devoid of any appeal or
memories. The routine of the place hadnt changed, though it was slowing
down, much to the fury of the senior acolytes. He smiled as they shouted
and brutalized the juniors. His fault. His word was spreading.

All of Edmonton would soon be aware of his arrival. So far hed taken
over eight covens, and was ready to visit the remainder. Those that had
fallen under his thrall were now actively pursuing the will of Gods
Brother. Over the last few days hed been dispatching several small
groups to attack strategic sections of the arcologys infrastructure.
Generators, water stations, transport junctions; theyd all been damaged
to some degree. It was primitive stuff, chemical explosives concocted
from formulae loaded into public databanks centuries ago by freethink
anarchists, the files replicated so many times they were impossible to
erase. On Quinns orders, the possessed would only supervise the
missions, never actually venturing to the target themselves. That was
left to the faithful: useful, disposable, imbeciles. He couldnt risk the
authorities discovering a possessed in Edmonton, not yet. So for now such
destruction would appear to be the work of a breakaway sect faction,
fanatics who had split away from their High Magus. That way they would
appear as sympathisers to the anarchist groups in Paris, Bombay, and
Johannesburg that were also bombing and terrorizing their fellow citizens.

The authorities would discover who was behind it eventually. But by then
he would have established enough cells of possessed to bring about the
Night.

Quinn arrived at the temple, and surveyed it slowly. A tall chamber, more
elaborate than the smaller covens. Pictures of violent depravity
alternated with runes and pentagons along the walls. A wreath of small
yellow flames flickered weakly around the tarnished inverted cross on the
altar. He was drawn to the big slab as the memories of this place finally
returned. There was the pain of his initiation, then more pain as he was
used for further ceremonies. Each time, Banneth had smiled down serenely;
a dark angel ministering to his body. Drugs and packages were applied,
and an obscene variety of pleasure would be combined with his agony.
Banneths laugh would wrap around him, taking on the power of an indecent
caress. She/he/it, that terrible androgynous multi-sexed monster,
conditioned him to respond to the torment in the way that generated the
most enjoymentfor it. Eventually the two extremes of sensation merged,
becoming one.

A triumph, Banneth had declared. The creation of the perfect sect
mentality. Birthing the serpent beast.

Quinn gave the altar a curious look, seeing himself bound to it, skin
glistening with sweat and blood as he screamed. The pain and the images
were real enough, but he couldnt recall anything before then. It was as
if Banneth had created his flesh at the same time as his mind.

Quinn? Is that you, Quinn?

Quinn turned slowly, squinting at the ghostly figure sitting on the front
pew. A face he was sure he knew, belonging to this place but from a long
time ago. The figure stood, a hunched up adolescent in a torn leather
jacket and dirty jeans. He was pitifully insubstantial. It is you, isnt
it? You remember me, Quinn. Its me. Its Erhard.

Erhard? He wasnt sure.

Damn, we shovelled shit together for long enough. You must remember.

Yes. Yes, I do. A novice acolyte whod joined the sect around the same
time as Quinn. One who lacked the strength to survive such a brotherhood.
The same relentless battery of ordeals and punishments which had
fortified Quinn had crushed Erhard. It had culminated in a ritual in the
temple, one which Banneth had never intended Erhard to live through.
There was rape and torture and drugs and burrowing parasites of Banneths
devising; atrocities performed to the hot chants and wild laughter of the
entire headquarters coven. Erhards final pleas had risen above their
chorus, a thin wail of ultimate terror. Then Banneth had brought the
jewelled sacrificial knife down in a fast slash.

The joy Quinn had experienced that day was almost orgasmic. Hed been the
one tasked to carry the knife for Banneth.

Its not fair, Quinn. I dont belong here. I hate this place. I hate the
sect.

You never did feed your serpent beast, Quinn said contemptuously. Now
look at you. Youre as much a loser now as you ever were.

Its not fair! Erhard cried. I didnt know what the sect was like, not
really. And then they killed me. You killed me, Quinn. You were one of
them.

You deserved it.

Fuck you. I was nineteen. I had my life, and you took it away, you and
that psycho fruit Banneth. I want to kill Banneth. I swore I would.

No! Quinn stormed. Erhard quailed, cowering back from the command.
Banneth does not die, Quinn said. Not ever. Banneth belongs to me.

The ghost edged forward, holding out a hand as though feeling the warmth
thrown out by a fire. What are you?

Quinn giggled quietly. I dont know. But Gods Brother has shown me what
Ive got to do. He walked out of the temple, leaving the ghost behind.

Three figures were marching along the corridor, one of them with
desperate reluctance. Quinn recognized him. Acolyte Kilian. Theyd met a
few days ago. All three frowned as they passed their invisible watcher,
puzzled by why they suddenly felt so chilly.

Quinn followed them. He knew where they were going, hed taken this route
himself enough times. Soon he would see it again: Banneth. Thats all it
would be, this time. Just a look, a reminder of that face. Nothing fast
would happen to Banneth. It had taught Quinn well, in that respect. The
most delectable punishments were the slowest ones. And when Night came,
it would be in tandem with eternity.



Darkness has arrived. Even when the acolytes didnt whisper it, the
phrase hung in the smoky air of the sects Edmonton headquarters. A
threat more menacing than any sadism the sergeant acolytes could bestow.

Banneth knew what that meant. The AV projectors were broadcasting a
constant coverage of the New York situation, which the entire
headquarters coven was obsessed by. The arcologys continuing isolation.
Rumours of free possessed. Portents wherever you looked. And many of the
coven looked very hard indeed.

Their work suffered as a consequence. Income from the scams and hustling
were well down in every coven across town. Even she, the High Magus,
couldnt rack up much enthusiasm. What chance did the lesser maguses have?

When she did rage at the sergeant acolytes, they just shuffled their feet
and muttered dourly that there was little point continuing their old
activities. Our time has come, they said, Gods Brother is returning to
Earth. Who cares about knocking off dumb-ass civilians. Given the creed
of the Light Bringer sect, it wasnt an attitude she could effectively
argue against. The irony of the situation didnt escape her.

All she could do was keep listening to the rap from the street, hunting
out clues. It was a thin source of information, especially now. Like a
great many of Earths arcologies, Edmonton was slowly shutting down as it
spewed out its own fear. Commercial districts were reporting increasing
absenteeism. People were calling in sick, taking holidays. Parks and
arcades were nearly deserted. Football, baseball, ice hockey, and other
game fixtures were played to small crowds. Parents kept their kids away
from day clubs. For the first time in living memory it was always
possible to get a seat on metro buses and tube carriages.

The vac-trains werent shut. Keeping the routes open was a bravado
example of Govcentral confidence, intended to reassure people that Earth
was still safe. Passenger numbers were under thirty per cent. Nobody
wanted to do anything that brought them into contact with other people,
especially strangers. Civic utility companies had to threaten employees
with lawsuits to keep essential services going. Government workers were
intimidated with the prospect of disciplinary proceedings if they didnt
perform their duties as normal, especially the police. The mayors were
desperate to provide the image of normality in the hope the public would
follow their cue. A desperation that was taking on increasingly surreal
dimensions in the face of such stubborn public reticence.

Banneth kept dispatching sect members to wander through the eternal half
light gullies that were downtown streets, hunting any sign of a score.
The usual broken inhabitants shuffling along the sidewalks would huddle
away from them in sealed-up doorways, sniffing suspiciously as they
strutted past. Cop cars swished along silently, creating whirlpools of
silvery wrapping foils; the only vehicles moving at ground level. They
slowed as they drew level with the sect gangs, examining the sullen faces
through misty armoured glass before tooting the siren and accelerating
away. Forcing them to go out was a mostly futile exercise. But she had
persevered while the world slowly choked on its own paranoia. And now it
seemed as though shed got lucky.

Acolyte Kilian was doing his level best not to shake as the sergeant
acolytes hurriedly left him alone in Banneths inner sanctum. The chamber
was buried at the centre of the skyscraper which the sect used as its
headquarters. As with the Light Bringer covens the world over, the
original layout of rooms and corridors had been corroded and corrupted as
acolytes burrowed their way through walls and ducts like human maggots.
Haphazard partitions were hammered and cemented up behind them, creating
a bizarre onion-layer topology of chambers and cells that protected the
core. Banneth had dwelt there for nearly three and a half decades without
once ever venturing out. There was no need now, everything necessary to
make her life enjoyable was brought to her.

Unlike several High Maguses she was aware of, Banneth didnt go in for
ostentation. Her senior acolytes were permitted whatever decadent
luxuries they could steal and bribe for themselves. But they lived
several floors above her, decorating their apartments with expensive
hedonistic amenities, and harems of beautiful youths and freakish
supplicants. She indulged herself on somewhat different levels.

When Kilian started to look round, he found he was in a place that was
way beyond the worst-case scenarios that acolytes whispered among
themselves. Banneths sanctum was an experimental surgery. Its mainstay
was a broad bench desk with high-capacity processor blocks and shiny new
medical equipment. Three stainless steel tables were lined up in the
middle of the floor, with discreet leather restraint straps placed
strategically round the edges. Life support canisters were arranged
around the walls, like huge glass pillars. Aquarium-style lighting caps
shone brightly on their contents. Kilian really wished they didnt, the
things inside were enough to make him shit his pants. People, in a few of
them. Suspended by a white silk web in some thick clear fluid, tubes
going into their mouths and noses (those that still had mouths and
noses). Always with their eyes open, looking about. Acolytes he
remembered from not so long back; with new appendages grafted on; others
with parts removed, their incisions raw and open to reveal the missing
organs. Then there were the less than human creatures, made worse by
having very human pieces attached. Clusters of organs bound together by a
plexus of naked pumping veins. Animals, game cats and gorillas with the
tops of their skull removed, and no brain left inside. Pride of place on
the wall above the work desk was taken by an ancient oil painting of a
young woman in a dress with a stiff bodice and long skirt.

Although Kilian had never been in the sanctum before, it was the place
where everyone came eventually, either for boosting or punishment.
Banneth performed both types of operation herself. Now he stood as still
as his trembling limbs would allow as the High Magus walked briskly
across the floor to him.

Banneths face had a male jawline, a blunt protuberant blade of bone. But
that was the only masculine feature, the eyes and mouth were soft, very
feminine. A shaggy pelt of straw-blonde hair completed the enigma. Kilian
glanced nervously at the white shirt Banneth wore. Everyone said the High
Magus got aroused at the sight of fear. If her nips were jutting, then
she was in the feminine stage of her cycle.

Dark circles of skin were definitely tenting the cotton. Kilian wondered
if it really made a difference. Banneth was a hermaphroditeby design, so
rumour said. She looked as if she was about twenty, either as a male or a
female; though age was an easy enough cosmetic adaptation. Nobody knew
how old she really was, nor even how long she had been High Magus. In
fact, legend and rumour were all that existed about her past. Questions
were discouraged.

Thank you for coming to see me, Banneth said. Her hand stroked Kilians
cheek, the cool skin of her knuckles drifting gently along his cheekbone.
An appraisal by a gifted sculptor, finding his exact form. He quivered at
the touch. Pink eyes with feline irises blinked in amusement at his
reaction.

Nervous, Kilian?

I dont know what Ive done, High Magus.

Thats true. But then a barely human grunt like you doesnt know much of
anything. Do you? Well dont worry yourself too much. Actually, youve
been quite useful to me.

I have?

Amazingly, yes. And as you know, I always reward the devout.

Yes, High Magus.

What can I do for you now, I wonder? She began to circle the
apprehensive acolyte, grinning boyishly. Youre how old now?
Twenty-five, isnt it? So I ask myself what does a nice young boy your
age always want. And the answers a much bigger cock, of course. Thats
pretty standard. I can do that, you know. I can snip off that pitiful
rat-sized cock youve got now, and replace it with something much better.
A cock thats as long as your forearm and as hard as steel. You would
like me to do that, wouldnt you?

Please, High Magus, Kilian whimpered.

Was that a yes please, Kilian?

I . . . I just want to help you. However I can.

She blew him a kiss, still prowling her circuit around him. Good boy. I
asked to see you because Id like to know something. Do you believe in
the teachings of the Light Bringer?

Trick question, Kilian screamed silently. If I say no, shell do whatever
she wants as punishment; if I say yes shell ask me to prove it through
endurance. All of it High Magus, every word. Ive found my serpent
beast.

An excellent answer, Kilian. Now tell me this: do you welcome the coming
darkness?

Yes, High Magus.

Really? And how do you know its coming?

Kilian risked a glance over his shoulder, trying to follow the High Magus
as she circled round him. But she was directly behind him now, and the
only thing he really noticed was the way the eyes of the acolytes in the
life support containers were tracking her movements. The possessed are
here. He sent them, our Lord. Theyre going to bring His Night to the
whole world.

So everyone says. The whole arcology is talking about nothing else.
Indeed the whole planet has little else to say. But how do you know? You,
Kilian?

Banneth stopped in front of him, lips curved in a sympathetic, expectant
smile.

Ill have to tell the truth, Kilian realized in horror. But I dont know
if thats what she wants to hear. Fuck! Oh Gods Brother, whatll she do
to me if its wrong? What will she turn me into?

Cat got your tongue? Banneth asked coyly. The smile hardened slightly,
becoming less playful. Her glance flicked to one of the life support
canisters containing a puma. Of course, I can give the cat your tongue,
Kilian. But what would I fit in its place? What would be appropriate do
you think? I have so much material I dont really need any more. Some of
it is long past its sell-by date. Ever felt flesh thats started to
decay, Kilian? Necromorphology is a somewhat acquired taste. You never
know, though, you might get to like it in time.

I saw one! Kilian shouted. Oh fuck, I saw one. Im sorry High Magus, I
didnt tell my sergeant acolyte, I . . .

She kissed his ear lobe, shocking him into silence. I understand, she
whispered. Really I do. To understand the way people think, you must
first understand the way they work. And Ive made the workings of the
human body my special area of study for a long time. Physiology begets
psychology, you might say. Mightnt you, Kilian?

Kilian hated it when the High Magus talked all this weird big-word shit.
He never knew how to answer. None of the acolytes did, not even the
seniors.

ItI saw him in the Vegreville dome covens chapel, Kilian said. He
knew for sure now that the High Magus wanted to hear about the possessed.
Maybe this would get him off the hook.

Banneth stopped her pacing, standing directly in front of the woeful
acolyte. There were no more smiles left on her androgynous face. You
didnt tell your sergeant acolyte because you thought youd wind up in
deep shit. Because if the possessed are real, then the sect hierarchy
that youve so devoutly been kissing ass to for the last six years will
be replaced by them. By telling everyone what youd seen you would in
effect be spreading sedition; though I doubt you would be able to
rationalize it quite like that. To you it was simple instinct. Your
serpent beast looks after you, it puts you first. As indeed it should, in
that respect youve been loyal to yourself and Gods Brother. Of course,
you couldnt resist telling a few people, could you? You should have
known better, Kilian. You know I reward acolytes who betray their friends
to me.

Yes, High Magus, Kilian mumbled.

Well Im glad thats settled then. Unfortunately the golden rule of the
sect is that I am to be told everything. I and I alone decide what is
important, and what is not. Banneth walked over to one of the stainless
steel tables, and tapped a finger on it. Come over here, Kilian. Lie
down for me.

Please, High Magus.

Now.

If hed thought running would have done him the slightest good, he would
have run. Actually, he even had the wild thought that he could attack
Banneth. The High Magus was physically weaker. But that idea was resolved
in a second by a simple clash of wills. He was foolish enough to glance
at her pink eyes.

Thats a very bad thought, Banneth said. I dont like that at all.

Kilian walked over to the table, taking the smallest steps possible. In
the faintly violet light thrown out by the life support containers, he
could see the scuffed silvery surface was sprinkled with small black
flecks of dried blood.

Remove your clothes first, Banneth told him. They get in the way of
what I want to do.

The initiation ceremonies, the punishments, the degradations hed
undergone for the sectnone of them prepared him for this. Simple pain he
could endure. It was soon over, making him all the meaner, stronger for
it. Each time his serpent beast would come away slightly larger, more
dominant. None of that helped him now. Each garment he took off was
another portion of himself sacrificed to her.

In times gone by, they used to say the punishment should fit the crime,
Banneth said. Kilian removed his jeans, and she smiled thinly at his
flabby legs. An appropriate sentiment, I always thought. But now I
believe its more fitting that the body part should fit the crime.

Yes, Kilian said thickly. That, he needed no explanation for. He had
spent hour after hour mucking out the pigs as part of his duty. All the
acolytes had to do it. All of them detested the filthy squealing animals.
It was an insidious reminder of what fate ultimately greeted Edmonton
sect members, no matter you were being disciplined or rewarded.

Banneths herd were special; developed centuries ago when geneering was
in its infancy. They were originally designed to provide organs for human
transplants. A worthy project, to help people with worn out hearts or
failed kidneys. Pig organs were the same size as human ones, and it was
the first practical success of the geneticists to modify porcine cells so
they didnt trigger a rejection by their new hosts immune system. For a
few brief years at the start of the Twenty-first Century the concept had
flourished. Then medical science, genetics, and prosthetic technology had
raced on ahead. Humanized pigs were abandoned and forgotten by everyone
except medical historians and a few curious zoologists. Then Banneth had
come across the obscure file in some long-outdated medical text.

She had identified and traced descendants of the original pigs, and began
breeding them anew. Modern genetic improvements had been sequenced in,
strengthening the bloodline. It was the raw primitiveness of the concept
which appealed to her. The sects use of modern technology was so much at
odds with its basic gospel. Pigs and old fashioned surgery were an ideal
alternative.

When an acolyte needed boosting, it wasnt AT muscle she implanted to
enhance the original human ones. Like the rest of the porcine organs, the
muscles wouldnt cause rejection. Pig skin, too, was thicker, sturdier,
than its human counterpart. Lately, she had begun to experiment with
other animals. Grafted monkey feet turned an acolyte into an efficient
acrobat, useful for gaining entry to upper-storey floors. Lighter leg
bones allowed them to outrun police mechanoids. Given time and research
subjects, she knew she could match any modification used by cosmoniks and
the combat boosted mercenaries so prevalent out there among the
Confederation worlds.

The surgical techniques could also be used to rectify behaviour. For
example, an attempt to run away from the sect would be easily curtailed
by replacing legs with trotters. In Kilians case, Banneth hadnt
finalized on an effective lesson. Though she did favour extending and
re-routing his colon into the back of his throat, so that every time he
wanted to shit, hed have to do it through his mouth. The extra tubing
would give him a very thick neck. A nice irony, that. It would match his
thick head.

When he was naked, she made him lie face down on the table, then used the
straps to secure him in place. Creative punishment would have to wait.
Since he blurted confirmation about a possessed, only one thing had
mattered to her. She smeared a big dollop of depilatory cream on the back
of his neck, and squirted it off with a cold water hose. It left his skin
clean and bare, ready to receive the nanonic implant package.

Kilian wasnt permitted an anaesthetic or sedative. He groaned and
whimpered continually as the personality debrief filaments pierced his
brain; their brutal intrusion sparking cascades of aberrant nerve
impulses that sent spasms rippling along his limbs. Banneth sat on one of
the desk bench stools, sipping a chilled, hand-mixed martini as she
supervised the procedure, occasionally datavising new instructions into
the package. After nearly two hours, the first erratic impulses started
to flood back along the invading filaments. Banneth brought her AI
on-line to analyse and interpret the confusing deluge of impulses.
Visualizations that were nothing more than randomized detonations of
colour slowly calmed as the AI began to marshal Kilians synaptic
discharges into ordered patterns. Once his thought patterns had been
catalogued and correlated with his neural structure, his entire
consciousness became controllable. The filaments could simply inject new
impulses into the synaptic clefts theyd penetrated, superseding any
natural thoughts he had.

Kilian was thinking about his family, such as it was. Mother and two
younger half-brothers, living in a couple of dingy rooms in a downtown
skyscraper over in the Edson dome. Years ago, now. Mother surviving on a
Govcentral parent work-pay scheme; never there during the day. All he had
was the constant noise, the shouted arguments, fights, music, footsteps,
metroline traffic. At the time hed wanted nothing more than to escape. A
bad decision.

Why? Banneth asked.

Kilian flinched. He was sprawled on the sagging bed-settee by the window,
looking fondly at all the familiar old objects that had occupied his
brief childhood.

Now Banneth stood by the doorway, regarding him contemptuously. She was
brighter than anything else in the room, more colourful.

Why? she repeated.

A spherical wave of pressure contracted through Kilians skull, squeezing
his thoughts out through his mouth in an unstoppable stream. Because I
left this to join the sect. And I wish I hadnt. I hate my life, I
fucking hate it. And now Im on your table and youre gonna turn me into
a dog, or chop my dick off and give it to someone else to fuck me with.
Some kind of crap like that. And its not fair. I didnt do anything
wrong. Ive always done whatever the sect asked. You cant do this to me.
You cant, please God. Youre not human. Everybody knows that. Youre a
fucking weirdo freak cannibal.

Now theres gratitude. But who gives a fuck about this pathetic little
comfort regression youre in. I want when you saw the possessed.

The pressure wave found another part of Kilians mind to crush. He
screamed out loud as memories erupted like fountains of acid behind his
eyes. Home was coldly scorched out of existence, huge great sections of
it peeling away like rotten flesh to reveal the Vegreville chapels
temple. Kilian had been there three days back, sent by his sergeant
acolyte to pick up some package. He didnt know what was in it, just
that: Banneth wants it fast.

The coven was different than before. There was a new atmosphere
percolating through the dark nest of rooms. They regarded him as a joke.
His urgency to complete the assignment, to get the package and leave,
made them snigger and scoff. Every time he asked them to be quicker they
delighted in delaying. They were like frisky kids at a day club whod
found a new boy to taunt and bully.

Eventually hed been taken to the temple where the senior acolyte told
him the package was waiting. The chamber walls were made from thousands
of slim metal reinforcement rods welded together, the inside of a birds
nest woven out of iron twigs. Its altar was a tight-packed mound of rusty
spikes, their tips all shaved down to the same length. Twin flames rose
out of the bristling metal at each end, long yellow tongues dancing in
the gloom. Pews were composite roof planks nailed to a variety of
pedestals. The sects usual runes were still on the walls, but they were
barely visible now. A single new slogan had been sprayed everywhere:
Night is coming. On the walls, on the ceiling, even on the floor.

Kilian was made to enter alone, his little escort clustering round the
thick doors behind him, giggling wildly. His annoyance dropped away as he
walked quietly towards the altar, replaced by growing nervousness. Three
figures waited silently for him behind the altar, clad in black robes.
These garments had none of the embellishments or pentagons usually
favoured by senior sect members. If anything it made them appear even
more menacing than usual. Their faces were almost lost inside the large
hoods. Flickering yellow beams from the candles would occasionally reveal
a feature within two of the hoods: bloodshot eyes, hooked nose, wide
mouth. The third hood could have been empty for all that Kilian saw. Even
when he reached the altar, he could see nothing inside that night-like
cavity of fabric.

The High Magus sent me, he stammered. Youve got a package for me,
yeah?

We certainly have, a voice said from somewhere inside that veiled hood.

Alert now, Banneth ran the voice through an analysis program, though
ordinary memories of voices were a notoriously unreliable source for such
verification programs. Nonetheless, it showed remarkable similarities to
recordings of Dexters voice. Kilian trembled as the hidden figure slowly
held out an arm. He was almost expecting a pistol nozzle to poke out at
him. But it was just a snow-white hand that emerged from the voluminous
sleeve. A small plastic container was dropped carelessly on the altar.

Our gift to Banneth. I hope it is useful.

Kilian scooped it up hurriedly. Right. Thanks. All he wanted now was to
get the fuck out of here. These guys were almost as creepy as Banneth.

I am interested that the High Magus is carrying on as though nothing is
happening.

Kilian didnt know how to answer. He cast a glance over his shoulder,
wondering if he should make a dash for it. Not that he could ever get out
of the chapel unless he was allowed to. Well, you know how it is. He
shrugged lamely.

I certainly do.

Sure. Id better get this back to her, then.

The Night will fall.

I know.

Excellent. Then you will join us when the time comes.

My serpent beast is strong.

A head emerged from the hood, the darkness slowly washing backwards to
expose more and more features. Youll need to be, Quinn said.

Banneth froze the image. No doubt about it. Skin as white as snow, eyes
infinite pools of blackthough that could have just been
emotion-aggravated exaggeration. But it was Quinn.

The High Magus smiled thinly as the image hung in her mind. The
fierceness which had once so animated him, and fascinated her, was gone.
If anything, he looked rather stressed out. Crinkled lines radiated away
from the corner of his eyes, while those sweet cheeks were rather sadly
sunken.

She concentrated her thoughts, focusing on the personality traits of one
individual. << Dexters in Edmonton. One of my acolytes encountered him
three days ago. >>

<< Ah. Thank you, >>Western Europe replied.



The ten ships in the convoy emerged above New California, immediately
confirming who they were to Montereys SD command. For once the hellhawks
accompanying the frigates hadnt raced on ahead. They were quite content
to let the convoy commander break the bad news they were carrying.

<< Wheres Etchells? >>Hudson Proctor asked once the four remaining
hellhawks had checked in.

<< We dont know, >>Pran Soo said. << He left us to scout round the
antimatter station. He will probably emerge soon. >>

<< Youre sure the Confederation destroyed it? >>

<< The frigates were still there. They saw it explode. >>

A fact which the convoy commander was very reluctantly confirming to
Monterey. The news was all around the asteroid within thirty minutes, and
down to New Californias cities in roughly the same timescale. Word
spread across the countryside within a couple of days. The more remote
Organization asteroid settlements lagged behind by anything up to a week.
The last ones actually got to hear about it from Confederation propaganda
broadcastswho damn well werent going to miss that opportunity.

This time Emmet Mordden refused point blank to be the one who had to tell
Al. So the senior lieutenants decided that Leroy Octavius should be
awarded the honour. Their unspoken thought as they watched him waddle out
of the asteroids command centre was that he too would chicken out and
simply tell Jezzibella.

A lifetime juggling temperamental personalities in the entertainment
industry had left Leroy wise to that option. Knowing that Jezzibella was
the only guarantee his own precious body and soul remained intact, he
simply couldnt permit her position to be weakened. Leroy gathered his
courage and went down to the Nixon Suite. Walking along the last few
metres to the doors his legs had more than a little wobble of
apprehension. The two gangsters on guard outside picked up on his
emotions, and studiously avoided eye contact as they opened the big doors
for him.

Al and Jezzibella were having breakfast in the conservatory, a long,
narrow room with one wall made entirely of curving enhanced sapphire,
which gave a slightly bluish tint to the view of the planet and stars
outside. The opposite wall had vanished beneath a trelliswork of
flowering vines. Pillars running the length of the conservatory were
transparent tubes, aquariums filled with the strange and beautiful fish
from a dozen worlds.

There was only one table, a broad wrought iron oval, with a vase of
orange lilies in the middle. Al and Jezzibella sat next to each other,
dressed in identical aquamarine bathrobes, and casually munching toast.
Libby was limping round the table, pouring coffee.

Al looked up as Leroy came in. His welcoming smile faded when he caught
the anxiety in the obese managers mind. You dont look too happy,
Leroy, my boy. Whats eating you? Jezzibella glanced up from her history
book.

Leroy took a breath and plunged in. I have some news. Its not good.

Okay, Leroy, I aint gonna bite you because those wiseasses dumped a
shitty job on you. What the fucks happened?

That last convoy we sent to the antimatter station just made it back.
Thing is, the Navy was there waiting for them. They blew it up, Al. Were
not going to get any more antimatter, not ever.

Jesus H Christ! Als fist thumped the table, bouncing the crockery.
Three slim scars throbbed white on his cheek. How the hell did they find
out? Aint nothing we do more careful than sending the convoy to the
station. Did the last lot get followed?

I dont know, Al. The frigatesll dock in another ninety minutes; maybe
the captainsll tell us more.

Theyd fucking better. Als fists clenched. He stared at the starfield
outside the conservatory.

Leroy hesitated, glancing at Jezzibella. She inclined her head silently
to the door. It was all the permission Leroy needed; he ducked his head
at Al, and shifted himself the hell out of there as fast as his thick
legs would allow. Jezzibella waited patiently, not saying anything. By
now she was well used to the cycle of Als moods.

After a minute in which he could have been frozen, Al roared: Fuck it!
and smashed a fist down on the table again. This time it had his
energistic power behind the blow. The iron bent alarmingly. Plates, jam
pots, cups, and the vase went sliding down the new valley to crash
together along the fold. He stood up fast as the boiling coffee splashed
onto the floor with the lilies. His chair legs caught on the tiling.
FUCK! Al spun round and kicked the chair, sending it flying into the
curving sapphire window. Libby whimpered in fright, cradling the milk jug
as if it alone could protect her. Jezzibella sat back, holding on to the
coffee cup shed saved. Her expression was strictly neutral.

Goddamn motherfucking shit-eating bastards! That was my goddamn station.
Mine. He put both hands under the buckled table and shoved it upwards.
The entire thing went somersaulting along the conservatory. Crockery
tumbled away to smash against the floor. Libby cowered as one of the
heavy metal legs flashed centimetres above the bun of her grey hair.
Nobody takes my property away from me. No Body! Dont they know who the
fuck theyre dealing with here? Im not some chickenshit small-time loser
pirate! I am Al goddamn Capone. Ive got a fleet that kicks the shit out
of whole planets, for Christs sake. Are they fucking insane? Ill blow
that whole stinking pennyass navy of theirs out of the goddamn water.
That knucklehead Ruski admiral is gonna get a baseball rammed so far up
his ass hell be pitching it out of his mouth.

Space, Jezzibella said firmly.

What? Al whirled round and bellowed at her. What did you fucking say
to me?

Youll blow them out of space. Not water. Were not on Earth now, Al.

He pulled a fist back. It shook violently as he held it over her. Then he
swung round and punched one of the tall aquariums. The glass shattered.
Water and a shoal of long purple fish poured out of the big hole,
splattering the hem of his robe.

Shit. Goddamn. He danced backwards, trying to keep his house slippers
out of the water.

Jezzibella calmly lifted her feet off the tiles as the tide swirled round
her chair. Fish started wriggling frantically over the mosaic, their
movements skidding them against the planters. Did you have antimatter
when you started?

Al was watching the fish in mild perplexity; as if he couldnt quite
understand where theyd come from. What? he demanded.

You heard. She deliberately looked away from him, and gave Libby a
gracious smile. Go and fetch a bucket, or something, theres a dear.

Yes, poppet, Libby said nervously. She scurried away.

You frightened her, Jezzibella accused.

Fuck her, Al said irritably. What did you say about antimatter?

First off, weve still got tonnes of the stuff. Think how many convoys
got through.

Tonnes?

Alright, not tonnes, but certainly kilograms. Work it out if you dont
believe me: one kilogram equals two and a fifth pounds. So the fleet and
the SD network still has more than enough to wipe the floor with any
Confederation Navy task force stupid enough to try its luck against New
California. Then theres Kingsley Pryor. You havent forgotten him, have
you?

Al stopped his mental arithmetic. He was actually very good at it, a
hangover from the days when he was working as an accountant in Baltimore.
Jez was right again, they had got a healthy stash of the superbomb
material. And no he hadnt forgotten Kingsley, exactly, it was just a
long time since they set him loose on his clandestine assignment. That
flaky asshole? Ive written him off. Christsake, its been too long.

No it hasnt. Hes a courier, not a missile. Hell get there eventually.

Could be.

Will be, and then youve won. Once the Confederations been broken, you
dont have to worry about New California being hauled back here.

Could be, he sighed. But we aint going to get any more antimatter.
Hell, Jez, if they send two task forces, were up shit creek.

They wont. Believe me. Its a political impossibility. So were back to
my original question. You didnt have antimatter when you started out,
and you still managed to take over this planet. Antimatter was a
beautiful bonus, Al. And you used it perfectly. Youve not only got the
Confederation public terrified of you, but with those infiltration
flights youve weakened them physically. Twenty-five planets seeded.
Thats crippled their economies and leadership. They cant challenge you
on your home ground. No way. And thats what really counts. She extended
her legs, and rested her heels on one of the two remaining chairs. Were
never going to see Navy warships outside this window. Not now. Youre
secure, Al. Youve made it clean. Youve dug the moat to keep those
bastards out, now concentrate on cementing what youve conquered. Dont
let those moaning weaklings who claim to be your friends chip away at the
Organization.

God damn, youre beautiful. He splashed through the thin runnels of
water to kiss her. She smiled up at him, and used a forefinger to tickle
under his chin.

The guys are going to go apeshit about losing the station.

Theyre going to be frightened, thats all, she said. Just show them
they dont have to be, that youre in charge of the situation. They need
that reassurance. They need you, Al, no one else can hold things
together.

Youre right. Ill call the senior lieutenants in. Spin them some
bullshit, and kick ass.

Her hand curled round the back of his neck. It can wait an hour.



Al buckled down on his disapproval when he arrived at the Chiefs of Staff
office. No point in biting peoples balls off before theyd even started
the meeting. It was justhe couldnt help remembering what the plush
office had looked like the first time theyd used it. Tidy and gleaming,
with coffee served from a silver pot into elegant china. Now, it was
suffering from the general tide of crap washing through Monterey. Without
mechanoids, nothing was being cleaned, let alone polished. There were
plates and crumpled sachets on the table, dating back three or four
meetings; cups with mould growing in the bottom. No one could be bothered
to take them back to the nearest canteen.

It wasnt good. Not at all. Jez was right. He had to consolidate what
hed got. Make things function smoothly again. Like it all had at the
start.

Kiera was last to arrive. That was getting to be a habit. Al couldnt
work out if she was doing it to annoy him, or to make everyone take
notice of her. She took her place halfway down the side of the table,
between Patricia and Leroy. Al performed his own theatre by getting up
again and refilling his coffee cup from the wheezing espresso machine.

Hey, Leroy, wheres Webster? Al asked suddenly. He should be dishing
this stuff out.

The manager broke off his murmured conversation with Patricia and glanced
round the office in surprise. Kids probably skiving off.

Yeah? I aint seen him about for a while. How come? Now he thought
about it, Al couldnt remember the last time the boy had been in
attendance. It was goddamn typical of the sloppy way things were being
run these days. No hostage was more important than Webster Pryor; he was
the only person who could make Kingsley Pryor go through with the
assignment.

Leroy took out his pocket block and typed quickly, summoning up staff
rotas. The results made him uneasy, which everyone was very aware of.
Hes down in the kitchens, I think. That was his last assignment,
helping the chef. His supervisor hasnt reported back since.

Al sat down and stirred his coffee. Silvano, wheres the kid?

The morose lieutenants scowl deepened. I dont fucking know.

Its your job to fucking know. Je-zus, I put you in charge of keeping
people in order, and you cant even look after a brat. You know whats
riding on keeping Webster in line. Hes more important than all the other
hostages put together.

Sure, Al. Ill find him.

Youd better. Fuck me, this is goddamn typical of how slack things are
getting up here. He took a sip of coffee, making sure his temper sank
back. Okay, are you guys all up to speed on whats happened with the
antimatter station? By the way everyone mumbled and avoided his eye he
guessed they were. Well dont all make out like its the end of the
world. It aint. We just about achieved what we set out to do. Dwight,
how many planets have we screwed now?

The fleet commander flushed as everyone concentrated on him. Seventeen
confirmed infiltrations, Al. Were waiting for another two flights to get
back.

Nineteen planets. Al grinned round the lieutenants. Plus Arnstat. Not
bad. Not bad at all. Weve kicked so much shit into the Navys face they
cant even see us now. And if they do try a raid . . . Whatll happen,
Emmet? We still got what it takes to see them off?

No problem, Al. The SD platforms are all armed with antimatter, along
with half the fleet. The only Navy ships thatll visit New California for
a rumble are the ones on a suicide mission.

Glad to hear it. You all hear that, too? He searched round, trying to
spot any major-league dissenters with his ethereal senses as they all
swore they heard and approved. There was the obvious ones; Kiera with her
cool contempt, the rest were just jittery, or, like Silvano, sullen and
resentful. But so far he was carrying it. Okay, so weve done what we
set out to when we walked into City Hall. We got us an entire planet,
along with a haul of space factories. And the important thing is, we took
out the nearest opposition. This planet is a fucking fortress now. That
means we can ease up on watching our backs, and get on with running this
shebang properly. Leroy, hows the food situation down on the surface?

Nobodys starving, Al. The farms arent producing as much as they did
before. But they are producing. I think we can get them back up to the
old levels if the lieutenants on the ground applied some pressure. We
need to motivate them.

Okay. So food is something we can improve if we had the time. Mickey,
your boys jiving you, or are they marching round like a bunch of krauts
whenever you give the word?

Mickey Pileggi licked at the beads of sweat that had suddenly erupted on
his upper lip. I got them under control, Al. Yeah. Sure thing.

Mickey, youre full of crap. This whole fucking joint is going down the
pan. Weve been humping away at the Confederation so bad, we aint
noticed the rain coming in.

Thats what you wanted.

Al stopped in full flow, hauling back on his anger. Hed just been
getting nicely into his spiel. Kiera, stop being such a ballbuster. I
did what I had to to protect us. Aint nobody here gonna argue with that.

Im not arguing, Al. Im saying the same thing as you. We are where we
are, because this is where youve brought us.

You want to be somewhere else right now?

No.

Then shut the fuck up. Im telling you, all of you; now is when we start
getting things working properly again. You gotta start keeping tabs on
the soldiers under your command, else everyones gonna finish up going
AWOL like Webster. And that way, we wind up in deep shit. We gotta have
things working smoothly around here again. If you dont start exerting
some proper discipline then the whole Organizations gonna fall apart.
And if it goes down, then we go down with it.

Al, the Organization is set up to keep the fleet working, Kiera said.

Hey, fucking lady Einstein, you just worked that out for yourself, or
did one of the kids from the gym explain it when he was banging you? Al
chuckled loudly, encouraging the others to join in.

Ive always known it. I just wondered if you did.

Als humour faded out. What are you getting at?

The only reason we need the fleet is if New California remains in this
universe.

Aw shit, not this crap again. Dont you get it? If we leave, then the
Confederation longhairs are going to be free to dream up some way of
snatching us back. We have to stay here, its the only way we can see
whats coming.

And if you see something like that coming at you, Al, what are you going
to do about it? A technology powerful enough to pull a planet back from
the other side of the beyond. Launch a combat wasp at it? Believe me, if
the Confederation ever gets to be that powerful, then we dont stand a
chance. But I dont think theyll ever learn how to do anything like
that. We can do it because weve got the devils own power charging us
up. No chunk of machinery can challenge that. If we leave, then I say
were going to be a hell of a lot safer there than we are here.

There was an itch in Als palm, running across his skin exactly where he
gripped the handle of his baseball bat. He held off from making it real.
Her talk about the devil being behind them made him uncomfortable. A
Catholic by birth, he didnt like examining the implications of what he
was now, nor why. We aint pinning our future on what you think might be
right, sister, he growled. If we want a certainty, then we stay right
here.

The Organization can be transported down to the planet, Kiera said, as
if Al hadnt even spoken. We can use the SD network to keep our power
base secure until we assume control of the cities. After that, we use
ground troops to enforce order. Al was right about that. Theres been too
much slippage allowed recently. We know we have to keep the farms and a
lot of the industries going if we want any kind of decent life on the
other side. Itll take a strong, positive government to achieve that. And
thats us.

We can do all that crap, and still stay here, Al said. His voice had
become little more than a whisper. That worried those who had been with
him the longest, though Kiera didnt seem to notice the barely concealed
danger. When I want someone else to tell me how to run my Organization,
Ill let you know. Got that, baby doll? Or do I need to make it real
plain for you?

I hear what you say, Al. The tone was amused indolence.

Thats smart of you. Now I want the rest of you guys to start doing like
Ive said. We need a crackdown like Gods foot is stomping through the
clouds. I want things up and jumping around here. Put the word out to
your soldiers, as of now you shape up or ship out. And out is where you
dont want to be.



Al told Emmet and Silvano to stay behind after the others trooped out. He
flicked a switch to turn the wall clear, and waited impatiently as
transparent waves skidded about in front of him. With his mind all het
up, it was hard to cool down his energistic power. Eventually, the wall
stabilized, giving him a view across the SD Tactical Operations Centre.
Five people were sitting behind the long ranks of consoles; two of them
playing cards.

The bitch is good, Al said. He was surprised more than anything.

She used to be married to a politician, Silvano said. Knows how to
sound plausible.

Certainly convinced me scooting our asses out of here is a good idea,
Al muttered. He turned back to his two senior lieutenants. Emmet, is
what she said right? Can we take the planet out of their reach? I mean,
right away?

Emmet wiped a hand across his forehead. Al, I can make the machines
weve got work for you. Do a few repairs, make sure everythings plugged
in where it oughta be. But, shit, questions like that . . . Thats out of
my league, Al, way out. You need a theoretical physicist, or a priest.
But even if they can learn how to do that, its not gonna be tomorrow.
Wed be safe there a long time. And could be wed learn how to keep
ourselves there. Shit, I just dont know, Al.

Ha. Al sat himself down, annoyed by how badly hed come out of the
clash. And we dont get to find out, neither. God damn that bitch. Now
shes declared for the running away option, Ive gotta make my stand to
stay here. And you can be certain shell start shouting her idea about.

Leaving this universe has a strong appeal to the possessed, Silvano
said. Its intrinsic. Perhaps you should bow to the inevitable, boss.

You think Im gonna knuckle under to that whore?

Not to her, no. But shes backing a winning idea.

I still need the hellhawks a while, Al said. Emmet, you done anything
more about building another feeding trough for them?

Sorry, Al, havent had time.

Youve got it now.



Banneth was making her preliminary preparations to Kilian when one of the
senior acolytes pounded on the door of her sanctum. Kilian gurgled weakly
as she eased the slim tube deeper inside him.

Ill be back in a minute, Banneth promised him cheerfully, and fastened
a clamp around the incision to stop the bleeding. She stripped the thin
isolation gloves from her hands as she walked over to the door.

A body, High Magus, the acolyte panted. Theres a body in the temple.

She frowned. Who?

Acolyte Tilkea, High Magus. He was butchered. We didnt authorize it.
Tilkea is one of the better ones.

I see. Banneth datavised a codelock at her sanctum door, and strode off
towards the temple. How awful, a corpse we didnt authorize.

Yes, High Magus, the acolyte agreed nervously. Like everyone in the
headquarters, he never knew if she was joking or not.

Even by the standards of the sect, the killing was fairly extreme. The
remains of acolyte Tilkea were suspended from strands of carbon wire
above the altar, arms and legs extended wide. Large hooks punctured the
skin above his shoulder blades, as well as his buttocks, wrists, and
ankles, fastening him to the wires. His chest had been split open from
throat to crotch, ribs levered apart to allow the internal organs to
spill out. Theyd splattered down on the altar, along with a small lake
of blood. Banneth circled the corpse carefully, while a gaggle of
acolytes stood at a respectful distance. It was ironic, she thought, that
a death in the temple where they themselves had killed hundreds over the
last few decades should invoke such trepidation. A sign of the times.

The blood was still warm. Banneth took a small medical block from her
pocket, and pressed its sensor pad against Tilkeas glistening liver.
This happened within the last half hour, she announced. Was he on duty
in here?

Yes, High Magus.

She datavised the headquarters network processor, and instructed it to
review the security systems. Nobody had left the building within the last
hour. I want every door guarded by a team of five acolytes. You can
issue the hand weapons, chemical projectiles only.

The senior acolytes hurried to obey. When she stood up, Banneth saw the
writing on the wall behind the altar. Someone had used Tilkeas heart as
a sponge, scrawling in blood: << Darkness has arrived. >>Her gaze
switched from that to the wires disappearing into the shadows cloaking
the ceiling. Who fixed them up there? she asked quietly. Not a
difficult job, but hardly one that could be done unnoticed. The acolytes
simply shrugged helplessly.

<< This is a very elaborate death, >>Banneth told Western Europe. << It
obviously took some time to prepare. And getting in and out of the
building would be hard even for the possessed. My AI is running a
constant glitch scan. >>

<< It wouldnt be difficult for Dexter, >>Western Europe replied. << From
what weve seen so far he can circumvent all your electronics. Id
suggest hes starting a war of nerves. If hes as fixated on you as we
believe, then a quick death will hardly suffice. >>

<< I expect youre right. >>

<< Cheer up, it confirms that hes still in Edmonton. And if Tilkea was
killed only half an hour ago, he cant have left yet. Ill have the
vac-trains shut down immediately. >>

<< If Dexter can make himself invisible, hes probably still inside this
temple right now. >>Banneth resisted the urge to stare round into the
many dark recesses. << I imagine hell want to see my reaction. >>

<< You could make him happy. Scream, faint; that kind of thing. >>

<< Ill consider it for the future. >>

<< Perhaps you ought to trigger your gender cycle early, >>Western Europe
suggested. << Shift into a man. >>

<< I fail to see the relevance. >>

<< A males aggression would probably be a more appropriate response to
this situation. Dexter is a raging psychotic, after all. >>

Banneth dispatched a dry laugh down the affinity bond. << Thats one of
my more treasured privileges, an intimate knowledge of both psychological
profiles owned by the human race. I can exploit the relevant weaknesses
to perfection. Men have less of a conscience, Ill grant you; but your
claim that youre rougher and tougher is a rather sad ego-enhancing lie
you tell yourselves. >>

<< Charmed, Im sure. Well if you dont want to do that, is there
anything else you need? >>

<< I cant think of anything. This place is so heavily booby trapped Im
more worried about one of these bumpkin acolytes setting off a charge
than I am an invasion of possessed. >>

<< Very well. >>

<< Are you watching the other sects? >>

<< Yes. North America and I have them all covered. Eight of Edmontons
chapels have been taken over by possessed. Its only a matter of time
until the remainder follow. Quinn has also started to sabotage Edmontons
infrastructure. The acolytes have been sent out several times to damage
fusion generators and water pumping stations. They actually got through
in three or four instances. >>

<< I havent noticed any reduction in services. >>

<< Because there havent been any. Not yet. But the margins are being
cut; which raises an considerable question mark over Dexters ultimate
goal. However, its proved an interesting footprint for us. There have
been similar acts in Paris and Bombay. >>

<< You think thats where hes been? >>

<< Yes. Im investigating Paris myself, of course. The East Asian
supervisor is giving the Bombay sect his personal attention. >>

<< Your observers here should keep watch for Courtney and Billy-Joe.
>>Banneth concentrated on their images. << Theyve been missing for a
couple of days now. Dexter used to pimp Courtney for me when he was an
acolyte. You couldnt classify her as a friend, but shell be loyal to
him. If he keeps anyone close, itll be her. >>

<< Thank you. Well keep an eye out. >>



The programs visualization took the form of a three dimensional spider
web that filled the entire universe. Strands were all primary colours,
crossing and recrossing against each other, a weave that stretched away
to an infinity where they blurred into null-grey uniformity. Louises
mind hung in the centre, looking in every direction at once.

What her neural nanonics were showing her was Earths communication net.
Or at least, part of Londons informational structure. Then again, it
might have been just the Ritzs internal house network. She wasnt
entirely sure, only that this was what surrounded her rooms net
processor . . . when she ran this particular symbology protocol, anyway.
There were some interpretations which were like cybernetic coral, others
that had cartoon roads, looping gas-giant rings, even one that was an
intertexture of glowing liquids. But this, she felt, was the most real.

Information taxis were flooding back towards her, silent sparkles of
light riding the strands down to the centre, condensing around her like a
new galaxy. A response to the latest questor shed fired into the digital
aether; the fiftieth variant on that one basic inquiry: find a connection
between Quinn Dexter and Banneth, any category. Shed tried multiple
combinations of the most preposterous phonetic spellings, removed time
restrictions so that the questors could search centuries-old memories,
allowed fictional works (every media type from books onwards) to be
incorporated. If she could just get that first connection, discover a
single positive reference, then the questors and news hounds and
directory extractors and credit profilers and a hundred other search
programs installed in her neural nanonics could be unleashed on Banneth
like dogs after a hax.

The information taxis loaded their passenger files into the analysis
program she was running in primary mode. Oh hell, she groaned. The
neuroiconic display vanished, and she propped herself up on her elbows.

Genevieve was sitting at the rooms desk, running an English
geo-historical tutorial through her processor block. She gave her big
sister a sympathetic look. Zeroed out again?

Yep. Louise leaned over the side of the bed, and hunted round for her
shoes. Not a single file entry, not that combines them.

Youve just got to keep asking. Genevieve indicated the pile of flek
cases on the desk. Computers arent smart, just fast. Garbage in,
garbage out.

Is that so? Louise wasnt going to quibble about Gens new-found
interest of boning up on educational texts. It was better than games.
Trouble was, the knowledge was superficial.

Like mine.

I dont know enough, she confessed. Even with the program tutors to
help me format the questor. It wasnt just her inability to get a lead
on Banneth that bothered her. There was still no response from Joshua.
Shed sent half a dozen messages now without so much as an
acknowledgement from Tranquillity. I need professional help.



She was back. Andy Behoo sighed helplessly as soon as he saw her walk in.
The magic was only slightly soiled by Genevieve trailing after her. This
time he didnt even bother to say anything to the customer he was serving
before he abandoned them. Louise was standing in the middle of the shop,
looking round with that same slightly befuddled expression as the first
time. She smiled lightly when she saw him approaching (not too fast,
dont runyoull look pathetic).

Back for some more? he asked. God, what a stupid thing to say. Why not
just yell out: I dont have a life.

Id like to choose some programs, yes, Louise said.

Excellent. His eyes tracked up and down in a fast sweep, feeding the
image into a memory cell. Today she wore a lemon-yellow dress made from a
sparkly fabric that was tight around her bottom; and a pair of antique
wire rimmed sunglasses. An odd combination, but very stylish. You just
had to have considerable poise to carry off the effect. What can we get
you?

I need a very powerful questor. You see. Im trying to find someone, and
Ive got very little information about them. The NAS2600 questor cant
locate them for me.

Interest in what she was saying actually diverted Andys eyes from her
cleavage. Really? Its usually pretty good. Your friend must be very
well hidden. And pray its her loathsome fianc.

Could be. Can you help?

What Im here for. Andy walked back to his counter, working out in his
mind what he could do to use the situation. He plain didnt have the
nerve to ask her outright if shed like to come for a drink with him
after work. Especially not with Genevieve at her side. But there had to
be some way he could get to see her again, outside Judes Eworld.

He was very conscious of Liscard, the general manager, tracking his
progress. Liscard had been on edge ever since a couple of Special Branch
cops had paid Judes Eworld a visit. Theyd taken the manager back into
her office, and spoken to her for over an hour. Whatever they said, her
suppresser programs couldnt get a grip on her subsequent nerves. Shed
certainly given Andy a hard time all day, snarling at him for little or
no reason.

Andy had a horrible feeling it might all be connected with Louise.
Specifically de-stinging her and Genevieve. If they had been Govcentral
bugs, then Judes Eworld had probably broken the law removing them. But
thered been no real reprimand. The sellrats had been nibbling on
curiosity and rumour ever since. Each of them bragged about their own
special shady customer who was the probable cause.

The shops inventory flashed up in Andys head, and he ran through the
specs for questors. I expect half of your trouble is that the 2600
questor only reviews current file indexes, he told Louise. What we need
to do is get you one thatll review entire files and disregard data
status, that should help with obscure references. Andy ducked down below
the counter top, and looked at the clutter of fleks stacked up on the
shelves below. Here we go. He surfaced, holding up a flek case.
Killabyte. Its almost an AI in its own right. A one shot request that
operates on fuzzy breeder intuition, which means it can utilise whatever
references it finds to build new associations which you havent loaded
in, and search through them. It wont taxi back until its found the
answer, no matter how long it takes. Tenacious little bugger.

Thats good. Thank you, Andy.

What Id really like to give you is the Hyperpeadia, but we havent got
any fleks of it in stock right now. If its used in tandem with Killabyte
Id guarantee youll find your friend. Theyre the two market leaders
right now.

Im sure Killabyte will be fine.

Ill put in an order for Hyperpeadia. The software collective wont
datavise it to us, theyre worried about bootlegs. He put his elbows on
the counter and leaned towards her in a confidential fashion. Course,
the encryption has already been cracked. You can get a pirate clone at
any stall in Chelsea market, but itll probably have transcription
degradation. Best you have an original. Itll be here tomorrow morning. I
can have it delivered straight to wherever youre staying.

Im at the Ritz. Louise fished round in her shoulder bag and produced
the hotels courtesy collection disk.

Ah. Andy held up the counters delivery log block to accept the Ritzs
code. Your fianc hasnt arrived yet, then? Genevieve had to bend over
and hide her face in her hands to stop the giggles.

No, not yet, Louise answered levelly. But Im expecting him any day
now. Hes already in the solar system. I was wondering if you could help
me with something else?

Sure. Anything!

Louise smiled demurely at his enthusiasm. I ought to be firmer with him.
But somehow being firm with Andy Behoo would be like drowning kittens.
Its just in case the questors cant find what I want. You said some
private detectives use the store. Could you recommend one?

I can ask, he said thoughtfully. Hang on a minute.

Liscard gave him an alarmed look as he walked over to her. A private
dick? she mumbled when Andy asked which one he should recommend.

Yeah, Andy said. One thats good at finding people. Do you know if any
of them are?

I think so, Liscard stammered. She waited apprehensively. As soon as
the Kavanagh girls had come back into the store, shed established a
sensevise link to the eddress which the Special Branch officers had given
her. Her retinas and audio discrimination program had been capturing the
scene for whoever was at the other end of the link. She didnt have the
nerve to load any of the tracer programs available to employees of Judes
Eworld. The software houses who produced them guaranteed they would be
completely undetectable, but she wasnt about to take the risk. Not with
the people who claimed they were from Special Branch. When she asked her
fixer in the local police about them hed abruptly told her never to
contact him again, and cut the datavise.

What do you want me to say? she datavised to the anonymous receiver.

Theres someone I know who can help the girl, came the answer.

Liscard datavised the information directly into Andys neural nanonics.
He took his time walking back across the shop, a measured approach
allowed him to savour her shape. The images hed snatched before were
fine as far as they went, but they amounted to little more than photonic
dolls in his sensenviron. After conjuring them up he was left craving for
more substantial replicants. Now, with his retinas switched to infrared,
and feeding through discrimination program, he could trace her abdominal
muscle pattern and rib cage through the fabric of her dress. A scan grid
overlay revealed the precise three-dimensional measurements of those
wonderful breasts. And her skin tone spectrum was already on file; that
would be a simple continuation for the sculptor program, extending up
from the legs, and down from her bare shoulders. That just left the taste
of her as he ran his tongue along her belly and down between her thighs.
The correct pitch as she cried out in gratitude, the praise she would
moan to him, her greatest ever lover.

Andy hated himself for resorting to sensenviron sprites. It was the final
humiliating proof that he was a complete loser. But she was so fantastic.
Better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all. Even if that love
was purely digital.

Whats the matter with him? Genevieve asked loudly. Whys he looking
at you all funny?

Andys smile was a thin mask over his horror as her piping voice broke
through his distracted thoughts. Cool sweat was beading across his
flushed skin. His neural nanonics couldnt help dispel the blush, they
were too busy fighting down his erection.

Louise gave him a vaguely suspicious look. Are you all right?

Fine, Andy mumbled. He scurried back behind the counter, ignoring
Genevieves frown. I think the person you want is Ivanov Robson. He
specializes in missing persons, both kinds.

Both kinds?

Yeah. Some people are genuinely missing; they drop out of life, or
havent updated their directory entrieslike your friend. Then theres
the kind whore deliberately trying to vanish; debtors, unfaithful
partners, criminals. You know.

I see. Well thank you, this Mr Robson sounds about right.

Andy datavised the detectives address and eddress over. Louise smiled
and gave him an uncertain wave as she walked out. Breath whistled out
between Andys crooked teeth. His hands were shaking again, forcing him
to grip the edge of the counter. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot! But she hadnt
stormed out, or made an issue of his stupid erotic daydreaming. There was
still a chance.

Yeah, about the same as me getting crowned King of Kulu.

He looked down to double check. The counters middle shelf held a stack
of fifteen Hyperpeadia fleks, all with their wrapping intact. His one and
only excuse to see her again.



The taxi pulled up at the end of Fernshaw Road, where it intersected with
Edith Terrace. Louise and Genevieve stepped out, and the door slid shut
behind them. The vehicle accelerated away silently down the road. It had
deposited them in a quiet residential street, where the pavements were
actually made from slabs of stone rather than a simple band of
carbon-concrete. Silver birch and sycamore trees that must have been a
couple of centuries old lined both sides of the road, their giant boughs
merging together to provide a gentle emerald shield against the fierce
sunlight. The houses were all ancient two or three storey affairs,
painted white or cream. Bricks and slate roofs were betraying their age
by sagging and bulging; centuries of subsidence and environmental decline
had distorted every wall and support timber. Window frames were tilted at
the oddest angles. There wasnt a straight line to be seen anywhere in
the street. Each house had a tiny front garden, though theyd all been
paved over; the massive trees absorbed so much light they prevented any
shrubs or vines from growing underneath.

This must be it, Louise said dubiously. She faced a high wall with a
single golden oak door in it, heavily tarnished with age. There was a
brass panel with a grill on one side. It looked far too primitive to
datavise at. She pressed the ivory button on top.

Yes? the grille squealed.

Im here to see Mr Robson, she said. I called before. Im Louise
Kavanagh.

The door buzzed loudly, and she pushed it open. There was a rectangular
patio beyond, running along the front of the building; home to a set of
wrought iron furniture and a couple of dead conifer bushes in cracked
pots. The front door, a duplicate of the one behind, was open. Louise
peered cautiously into the small hallway. A blonde girl, barely older
than she, was standing behind a reception desk whose surface was
smothered with folders, flek cases, and china coffee mugs. She was
staring into a small AV pillar that protruded from the top of a very
expensive-looking stack of processor blocks. Pale turquoise light from
the sparkling pillar was reflected in her narrow, brown eyes. Her frozen
posture was one of shock.

Her only acknowledgement of the sisters entry was to ask: Have you
accessed it? in a hoarse voice.

What? Genevieve asked.

The receptionist gestured at the pillar. The news.

Both sisters stared straight into the pillars haze of light. They were
looking out across a broad park under a typical arcology dome. Right
across the centre of their view, a big tapering tower of metal girders
had collapsed to lie in a lengthy sprawl of contorted wreckage across the
immaculate emerald grass. Several of the tall, cheerfully shaggy trees
that surrounded it had been smashed and buried beneath the splinters of
rusty metal. A vast crowd encircled the wreckage, with thousands more
making their way along the paths to swell their numbers. They were people
in profound mourning, as if the tower had been some precious relative.
Louise could see they all had their heads bowed, most were weeping. Thin
cries of grief wove together through the air.

Bastards, the receptionist said. Those utter bastards.

What is that thing? Genevieve asked. The receptionist gave her a
startled look.

Were from Norfolk, Louise explained.

Thats the Eiffel Tower, the receptionist said. In Paris. And the
Nightfall anarchists blew it up. Theyre a bunch of crazies whore going
round wrecking things over there. Its their mission, they say, preparing
the world for the fall of Night. But everyone knows theyre just a front
for the possessed. Bastards.

Was the tower really important? Genevieve asked.

The Eiffel Tower was over seven hundred years old. What do you think?

The little girl looked back into the projection. How horrid of them.

Yes. I think thats why there is a beyond. So that people who do things
like that can suffer in it until the end of time.

A glassed-in spiral stair took Louise up to the first floor. Ivanov
Robson was waiting for the sisters on the landing. Travelling in the Far
Realm had accustomed Louise to people who didnt share the bodyform
template shed grown up with. And of course, London had an astonishing
variety of people. Even so, she nearly jumped when she first saw Robson.
He was the biggest man shed ever seen. Easily over seven feet tall, and
a body that seemed bulky even for that height. Not that any of it was
fat, she noticed. He was frighteningly powerful, with arms thicker than
her legs. His skin was the deepest ebony, glossy from a health clubs
spar treatment. With thick gold-tinted auburn hair twirled into a tiny
pony tail, and wearing a stylish yellow silk business suit, he looked
amazingly dapper.

Miss Kavanagh, welcome. From the confident humour in his smooth voice,
it was obvious he knew the effect he had on people.

Floorboards creaked under his feet as showed them into his office. The
bookcases reminded Louise of her fathers study, although there were very
few leather-bound volumes here. Ivanov Robson eased himself into a wide
chair behind a smoked-glass desk. The surface was empty apart from a
slimline processor block and a peculiar chrome-topped glass tube,
eighteen inches high, that was full of clear liquid and illuminated from
underneath. Orange blobs glided slowly up and down inside it, oscillating
as they went.

Are they xenoc fish? Genevieve asked. It was the first time shed
spoken. The huge man had even managed to quash her usual bravado. Shed
kept well behind Louise the whole time.

Nothing as spectacular, Ivanov said. Its an antique, a genuine
Twentieth Century lava lamp. Cost me a fortune, but I love it. Now, what
can I do for you? he tented his fingers, and looked directly at Louise.

I have to find somebody, she said. Um, if you dont want to take the
case when Ive told you who, Ill understand. I think shes called
Banneth. Louise launched into a recital of her journey since leaving
Cricklade, not quite as heavily edited as usual.

Im impressed, Ivanov said softly when shed finished. Youve come
face to face with the possessed, and survived. Thats quite a feat. If
you ever need money, I know a few people in the news media.

I dont want money, Mr Robson. I just want to find Banneth. None of the
questors seem to be able to do that for me.

Im almost embarrassed to take your money, but I will, of course. He
grinned broadly, revealing teeth that had been plated entirely in gold.
My retainer will be two thousand fuseodollars, payable in advance. If I
locate Banneth, that will be another five thousand. Plus any expenses. I
will provide receipts where possible.

Very well. Louise held out her Jovian Bank credit disk.

A couple of questions first, Ivanov said after the money had been
transferred. He tilted his chair back, and closed his eyes in thought.
The only thing you know for certain about Banneth is that she hurt Quinn
Dexter. Correct?

Yes. He said so.

And Banneth definitely lives on Earth? Interesting. Whatever happened
between the two of them sounds very ugly, which implies they were
involved in some kind of criminal activity. I think that should provide
my investigation with an adequate starting point.

Oh. Louise didnt quite look at him. It was so obvious, laid out like
that. She should have sent a questor into criminal archives.

I am a professional, Louise, he said kindly. You do know the possessed
have reached Earth, dont you?

Yes. I accessed the news from New York. The mayor said theyd been
eliminated, though.

He would. But Govcentral still hasnt opened the vac-train lines to New
York. That should tell you something. And now weve had the Eiffel Tower
blown up for no reason other than to demoralize and anger people. That
probably means theyre in Paris as well. A feat like that is beyond the
ability of some stimbrained street gang. What Im trying to say, Louise,
in my dear bumbling way, is that if Quinn Dexter is here, then hell be
heading for Banneth as well. Now do you really want to bump into him
again?

No! Genevieve squeaked.

Then bear in mind thats where your current path is taking you.

All I need is Banneths eddress, Louise said. Nothing else.

Then I will do my best to ensure you receive it. Ill be in touch.

Ivanov waited until the sisters were circling down the spiral stair
before asking: << Do you want me to give her Banneths eddress? >>

<< Im afraid its a bit pointless right now, >>Western Europe answered.
<< Edmonton has been sealed up, with Quinn inside. I cant get her in to
meet him; so shell just have to sit this out on the substitutes bench
for a while. >>


Chapter 13
==========


The prospect of interstellar flight had been real to certain sections of
the human race for a long time before Sputnik One thundered into orbit. A
notion which began with visionaries like Tsiolkovskii, Goddard, and
somewhat more whimsical science fiction writers of that age, was quickly
taken up and promoted by obsessive space activists when the first
micro-gee factories came on line, proving that orbital manufacturing was
a profitable venture. With the development of the ONeill Halo and the
Jupiter mining operation in the Twenty-first Century the concept finally
began to seem practical. Asteroids were already being hollowed out and
made habitable. Now it was only an engineering and finance problem to
propel them out of Earth orbit and across the gulf to Proxima Centauri.
There were no theoretical show stoppers; fusion or antimatter engines
could be built to accelerate the giant rocks up to speeds of anything
between five and twenty per cent of lightspeed, depending on which
physicist you asked. Generations of crew would live, tend their
machinery, and die within the rock as they crawled across the emptiness,
with the anticipation that their descendants would inherit a fresh world.

Sadly, human nature being what it is, century-duration flights were just
too long, the ideal of colonization too abstract to motivate the
governments and large institutions of the time into building these
proposed space arks. The real clincher, inevitably, was cost. There could
never be any return on the investment. So it seemed as though the fresh
start idealists would just have to go on dreaming.

One such thwarted dreamer was Julian Wan, who, more resourceful than his
colleagues, persuaded the board of the New Kong corporation to research
faster than light travel. His pitch was that it would be a small, cheap
project testing the more dubious equations of Quantum Unification Theory,
essentially a few wild theoretical physicists with plenty of computer
time. But if it could be made to work, the commercial opportunities would
be phenomenal. Noble concern for human destiny and the search for pure
knowledge never got a look in.

New Kong successfully tested the ZTT drive in 2115, and the arkship
concept was quickly and quietly discarded. Beautifully detailed plans and
proposals drawn up by a multitude of starflight societies and
associations were downloaded into university library memories to join the
ranks of other never-made-it technologies like the nuclear powered
bomber, the English Channel bridge, geostationary solar power stations,
and continent birthing (the so-called Raising Atlantis project, where
fusion bombs were proposed to modify tectonic activity). Then the
Tyrathca world of Hesperi-LN was discovered in 2395, along with the news
that it was actually a colony founded by an arkship. The old human plans
were briefly revisited by history of engineering students, interested to
see how they stood up to comparison with a proven arkship. That academic
interest faded away inside of a decade.

Joshua, who fancied himself as something of a spaceflight buff, was
fascinated by the dull blip of light which Lady Macs sensors were
focused on. It was in a wildly elliptical orbit around Hesperi-LN, with a
twelve thousand kilometre perigee and four hundred thousand kilometre
apogee. Fortunately for their mission, it was just under three hundred
thousand kilometres away from the Tyrathca planet, and climbing.

Theyd emerged two million kilometres out from Hesperi-LN; a distance
which put them safely beyond the planets known SD sensor coverage. The
Tyrathca world was not a cradle for the kind of space activity found
above industrialized human worlds. There were a few low-orbit docking
stations, industrial module clusters, communication and sensor satellite
networks, and twenty-five SD platforms supplied and operated by the
Confederation Navy. Not that there was a lot of worry about pirate
activity, the Tyrathca simply didnt manufacture the kind of goods which
could be sold on any human market let alone the underground one. The
Confederation was far more concerned by the prospect of blackmail by a
rogue starship captain armed with ground-assault weapons. Although they
didnt have consumer products, the Tyrathca did mine gold, platinum, and
diamonds among other precious commodities for their indigenous
industries. And the colony had been established in AD 1300; rumours of
vast stockpiles accumulated over millennia persisted on every human
world. Any bar or dinner party would have someone who knew somebody else
who had been told of a first-hand witness whod walked through the
endless underground caverns filled with their glittering dragon hoards.

So the Navy maintained a small cost-ineffective outpost to guard against
the possibility of any inter-species incident. It had been abandoned,
along with all the other human-maintained systems, when the Tyrathca
broke off contact. According to the briefing Monica and Samuel had given
to the Lady Macs crew, the Tyrathca would find it difficult to keep the
SD systems functional for very long.

But we have to expect them to try, Monica said. Their ambassador was
pretty damn insistent that we dont intrude on them again.

Joshua and Syrinx assumed the SD network was on-line and fully
functional, and planned their tactics accordingly. The goal was to land
an explorer team on Tanjuntic-RI, who would attempt to locate a reference
to the Sleeping God in the arkships ancient electronics. Getting them
inside unnoticed was the big problem.

Both craft were in full stealth mode when they emerged. Jumping into the
system, Joshua had aligned Lady Mac so that her vector would carry her in
a rough trajectory from the emergence coordinate towards the arkship. As
long as he didnt have to use either the fusion or antimatter drives, the
starship would probably remain undetected. At this stage, they were back
up; there to rush in and provide covering fire in case things got noisy
and Oenone had to rescue their team. They were using passive sensors
only, with just the chemical verniers firing occasionally to hold them
stable; every nonessential system was in stand-by mode, reducing the
power consumption and with it their thermal emission. Internal heat
stores were soaking up the fusion generator output, although they could
only last for a couple of days before the thermodump panels would have to
be extended to dissipate the heat. Even that wasnt too much of a
problem, the radiation could be directed away from the SD network
sensors. Theyd have to be extremely unlucky to be discovered by anything
that guarded Hesperi-LN.

Picking up some radar pulses from the SD network, Beaulieu reported.
But its very weak. Theyre not scanning for us. Our hull coating can
absorb this level easily.

Good, Joshua said. Liol, what about spacecraft activity?

Infrareds showing twenty-three ships using their drives above the
planet. The majority are travelling between low orbit and the SD
platforms. Four seem to be heading up for high polar orbits. Id say
theyre complementing the platforms. But none of them are moving very
fast, half a gee maximum. They are big ships, though.

Thats how the Tyrathca like them, Ashly said. Plenty of room to move
round in the life support sections. Its like being inside a bloody
cathedral.

Offensive potential?

If theyre armed with human-made combat wasps, considerable, Liol said.
With that drive signature Im assuming theyre Tyrathca inter-planetary
ships; they have a dozen asteroid settlements to provide the planetary
industries with several kinds of bulk microgee compounds. Which means
their payload is considerably larger than ours. Theyre like highly
manoeuvrable weapons platforms.

Wonderful. Joshua datavised the new bitek processor array theyd
installed during the last refit. Oenone, whats your situation?

I remain on schedule, Joshua. We should be rendezvousing with
Tanjuntic-RI in another forty-two minutes. The exploration team is
suiting up now.

Unlike the Lady Macbeth, Oenone had been able to accelerate and manoeuvre
after emerging above the planet. By reducing its distortion field to a
minimum, the voidhawk could accelerate at half a gee towards the arkship.
Given the distance involved, the network satellites were unable to pick
up such a small ripple in space-time. The disadvantage was, with such a
reduced field the voidhawk couldnt perceive a fraction of the local
environment it usually did. If for some unaccountable reason, the
Tyrathca had surrounded Tanjuntic-RI with proximity mines, they wouldnt
know until they were very close indeed.

Syrinx always hated being dependent on just the sensor blisters and
passive electronic arrays. The voidhawks ability to pervade a huge
spherical volume of space around the hull was intrinsic to their flight.

<< We managed like this in our Navy days, >>Oenone said, unperturbed.

Syrinx grinned in the half-light of the bridge. The crew toroids
internal power consumption was minimal as well. << You mean back when we
were young and foolish? >>

<< This is not a foolish venture, >>the voidhawk chided. << Wing-Tsit
Chong considers it of the utmost importance. >>

<< Me too. But this part just brings back memories. >>Of Thetis, though
she didnt mention him. Lately shed started to wonder if her brother had
managed to elude the beyond as that ever-damned Laton had promised. Mild
feelings of guilt had kept her away from his strange stunted existence
within the Romulus multiplicity before they left. Really, what was the
point in preserving him when his soul was free?

<< What is our best landing point, do you think? >>Oenone asked.

As always, the voidhawk knew when she needed distracting. << Im not
sure. Show me what we can see. >>She accessed the all-too scant files on
Tanjuntic-RI stored in the on-board processors, and attempted to match
them up with the image the voidhawk was seeing.

Tanjuntic-RI had been completely abandoned less than fifty years after it
arrived in the Hesperi-LN star system. An unduly harsh treatment by human
standards, but it had fulfilled every duty its long-dead builders had
required of it, and the Tyrathca were not a sentimental species. Fifteen
thousand years old, it had travelled one thousand six hundred light-years
to ensure the Tyrathca race didnt die along with their exploding home
star. Five separate, successful colonies had been established along its
route. Each time the arkship had stopped inside a star system to create a
new colony, the Tyrathca had virtually rebuilt it, refuelled it, then
carried on with their crusade of racial survival. Even so, there are
limits to the most sturdy machinery. After Hesperi-LN was founded,
Tanjuntic-RI was left to circle ceaselessly above the planet.

Borrowing Oenones sensor blisters, Syrinx could see the details becoming
clear as they glided in for a rendezvous. Tanjuntic-RI was a dark
cylindrical rock six kilometres long, two and a half in diameter. Its
surface was a gentle mottle of flattened craters, resembling a
wind-sculpted ice field. Remnants of vast machines sketched out a random
topology of tarnished metal lines along the floors of the meandering
valleys. These appurtenances had succumbed to millennia of particle
impacts and vacuum ablation. What had once been a surface bristling with
elaborate towers and radiator panels the size of lakes was left with
little more than their stubby mounting fixtures as a reminder of past
grandeur. The forward end was the most heavily speckled, due mainly to
the extensive remnants of a coppery hexagonal grid.

With Tanjuntic-RI capable of travelling at over fifteen per cent
lightspeed, a collision with a single pebble at that speed could result
in catastrophic damage. So in flight the arkship was protected by a
plasma buffer, a cloud of electrically charged gas that broke up and
absorbed any mass smaller than a boulder. It rode ahead of the arkship, a
luminous mushroom-shape held in place by a magnetic field generated by
the superconductor grid.

Right in the centre of the grid, aligned along the rotation axis, was the
arkships spaceport. Although the concept was the same as the
counter-rotating spaceports on Edenist habitats, the Tyrathca had
fashioned an elaborate conical structure made up from tiers of disks. Its
peak disappeared below the surface of the rock, as if it were a kind of
giant arrow tip which had impaled itself in some forgotten era. The
larger disks at the top end had broken off centuries ago, probably when
the magnetic bearing seized up. Those that remained were vacuum ablating,
their edges fraying like worn cloth, while their flat surfaces slowly
dissolved, reducing their overall thickness. With the last maintenance
crew departing thirteen centuries previously, the vast sheets of metal
were down to a few centimetres thickness, and perforated by thousands of
micrometeorite holes.

Oenone was also relaying the image of the arkship to the little
exploration team suiting up in the crew toroids airlock prep chamber.
Given the clandestine nature of their mission, Monica Foulkes and Samuel
were leading the team. There were only two technical staff coming with
them; Renato Vella, who was Kempster Getchells chief assistant, and Oski
Katsura, head of the Laymil projects electronics division. Their job
would be to reactivate Tanjuntic-RIs electronic library and extract
whatever files concerning the Sleeping God that they could locate.
Tactical support was supplied by four serjeants, loaded with Iones
personality.

Kempster Getchell and Parker Higgens were also in the prep chamber;
helping with the suits when they were asked, but mainly rehearsing
mission goals with Renato and Oski. The formless black silicon of the SII
suits had enveloped each of the team, now they were busy clipping their
rigid exoskeleton suits on top. They were using standard issue
Confederation Navy Marine armour, generator reinforced monobonded carbon
with power augmentation. As sleek and featureless as the SII suits, they
were designed for both asteroid and ship assault roles, capable of
supporting and keeping the wearer active in high gee environments, and
with built in manoeuvring packs.

The team started to run integration diagnostics. Arm joints bent and
twisted, sensor inputs flicked through the spectrum. Monica, Samuel, and
the serjeants ran their weapons interface programs, and stowed the
various items of lethal hardware on their belts and racks once the suit
processor confirmed the connection. Oski and Renato started picking up
their blocks and equipment kits; there were too many to hang on their
belts, so they were both using small chestpacks.

Kempster held Renatos pack steady as it adhered to the armour suit. I
cant feel the weight, the young astronomer datavised. I just have to
balance right. And Ive even got a program for that.

The wonders of science, Kempster muttered. Mind you, I ought to be
flattered. Commando raids to acquire astronomical data. I suppose thats
a sign of how important my profession has become.

The Sleeping God isnt an astronomical event, Parker chided irritably.
Were sure of that now.

Kempster smiled at the blank neutral-grey back of his assistant. Now he
was ready, Renato datavised Oenones processor array for an update on
their approach. Tanjuntic-RIs dilapidated spaceport was a hundred and
fifty kilometres away, and the voidhawks sensor blisters had it in
perfect focus. The large disks were separated by a single central column
that appeared to be made up from hundreds of braided pipes. They were
spaced far enough apart, a hundred metres at least, to admit ships
between them. Tyrathca craft had used them as hangar floors, anchoring
themselves to docking pins and plugging into the utility sockets. Now,
the disks were essentially flat sheets of decaying metal; their thin
lattice of ancillary systems had evaporated away along with the rim.

Were not going to land on those, are we? Renato Vella asked. They
dont look very reliable.

Samuel used his suits bitek processor to datavise a reply. Oenone will
take us in under the bottom disk. Well go EVA and try and find a way in
along the spaceports support column.

It shouldnt be a problem, Monica datavised. The archaeology team from
the ONeill Halo got in easily.

A hundred and thirty years ago, Kempster said. The decay rate
Tanjuntic-RI is suffering from could well make things difficult for you.
The original route may be blocked.

This isnt an archaeology project, doc, Monica datavised. Well just
cut our way in if we have to. Decay should help us there. The structure
wont put up much resistance.

Kempster caught Parkers eye, the two of them registering their
disapproval in unison. Cut it open, indeed!

At least we have a basic layout file of the internal chambers, Oski
datavised. If we really did have to explore, I doubt wed achieve
anything.

Yeah, Monica agreed. How come the Tyrathca allowed that university
team in?

Wrong question, Parker said. Why shouldnt they? The Tyrathca couldnt
understand our interest in the arkship at all. You know they seal up and
abandon a house once the breeders have died? Well Tanjuntic-RI is a
similar case. Once something of theirs has ended its natural life, it
becomes . . . invalid, is about the nearest definition we have. They just
dont use it, or visit it again. And its not due to the kind of respect
we have for graves; they dont consider their relics or burial houses to
be sacred.

Weird species, Monica datavised.

Thats what they think of us, too, Parker said. The various Lords of
Ruin have asked them on several occasions if they would join the Laymil
research project, another viewpoint would always be valuable. It was the
same answer each time. Theyre simply not interested in examining
obsolete artefacts.

Oenone folded its distortion field to almost nothing as it crept across
the last kilometre to Tanjuntic-RI. The arkship was rotating around its
long axis once every four minutes, with only a small wobble picked up
over the centuries. Which said a lot for how well theyd managed the
internal mass distribution, Syrinx thought. As a result of the minute
instability, the spaceport was pursuing a small loop which the voidhawk
could match easily.

They slid in under the bottom disk, which was only seventy metres in
diameter. The short length of the support column which emerged from the
disks centre to burrow into the rock was twenty-five metres wide.

<< That lower disk must have been used to dock the Tyrathca analogue of
our MSVs, >>Syrinx suggested. << With the big inter-planetary ships on
the top deck. >>

<< That would be logical, >>Oenone agreed. << I wonder what they looked
like? >>

<< Very similar to those the Tyrathca use today, >>Ruben said. << They
dont innovate much. Once a system is finalized they never change it. >>

<< That doesnt make a lot of sense, >>Serina said. << How can you know
when something is as good as possible unless you keep analyzing and
tinkering with the design? A bicycle is a good, efficient method of
getting from one place to another, but the car came along because we
werent satisfied with it. >>

<< I hadnt really thought about it, >>Ruben admitted. << Now you mention
it, thirteen hundred years is a long time to stick with one design, an
awful lot more if you add their voyage time to that. Were still
improving our fusion drives, and weve only had them six hundred years. >>

<< And theyre a lot better than Tyrathca fusion drives, >>Oxley said. <<
Weve been selling them improvements ever since we made contact. >>

<< Youre applying human psychology to them, >>Ruben said. << Its a
mistake. They dont have our intuition or imagination. If it works, they
really dont try to fix it. >>

<< They must have some imagination, >>Cacus protested. << You can hardly
design an arkship without it. >>

<< Ask Parker Higgens, >>Ruben said. A slight tinge of defensiveness was
leaking into his affinity voice. << Maybe he can explain it. I guess
being slow and methodical gets you there in the end. >>

Syrinx examined the twisted braid of pipes and girders that made up the
spaceports support column. Following her silent urging, Oenone expanded
its distortion field enough to pervade the dilapidated structure. A
picture of entwined translucent tubes filled her mind. The number of
black-crack flaws in the metal and composite was alarming, as was the
thinness of individual tubes. << That really is very fragile, >>she
declared. << Samuel, please be careful when you egress. It wont take
much to snap the spaceport clean off. >>

<< Thanks for the warning. >>

Oenone rotated gently, turning its crew toroid airlock towards the
lead-grey shaft. Standing in the open hatch, Samuels suit sensors showed
him the stars slip past until he was facing the wrinkled mesh of metal.
Even though it was basically just a frayed mechanical structure, it had a
quality that told him it wasnt human. Neatness, he decided, it lacked
neatness, the kind of confident elegance that was the signature of human
astroengineering. Where humans would use failsofts and multiple
redundancy, the Tyrathca built tough simple devices in tandem. If one was
taken out of service for repair or maintenance they trusted the second to
remain functional. And it was obviously a philosophy which worked.
Tanjuntic-RIs existence and triumph was evidence of that. It was just .
. . reality at one degree from human sensibilities.

The voidhawks movement halted. Shadows plagued the hull, turning the
marbled polyp a dingy walnut. Gravity in the airlock faded away as the
distortion field flowed away from it.

<< This is as close as we can get, >>Syrinx said. << The archaeology team
went in just above the bearing ring. >>

The spaceport support column appeared to be holding steady just past the
lip of the hull. Stars waved about behind it. Samuel triggered the cold
gas jets in his armour, and drifted out from the airlock. Gaps in the
column were easy enough to find. The original close weave of pipes and
structural girders had been loosened when the bearings seized up, opening
a multitude of chinks, though it was impossible to guess which one had
been used by the archaeology team all those years ago. He selected one
ten metres above the huge bearing ring set in the rock.

Nitrogen puffed out from tiny nozzles around his slimline manoeuvring
backpack, edging him closer to the gap. It was lined with a buckled pipe
on one side, and a tattered conduit casing on the other. He reached out
with his left gauntlet, and made a tentative grab for one of the flaky
cables inside the conduit. Dust squirted out around his fingers, and
tactile receptors in his palm told him the cable had compressed slightly
in his grip. But it held. His main worry had been that everything they
touched along the column would disintegrate like so much brittle
porcelain.

Okay, theres a degree of integrity left in the material, he datavised
back to the rest of the team. You can come over. Im going in.

Helmet and wrist lights came on, and he shone the beams into the black
cavity ahead. When the column bearings seized up, the torque stress
exerted by the spaceports inertia had splintered hundreds of structural
girders, ripping apart the multitude of pipes and cables they carried.
The result was to fill the inside of the column with a forbidding tangle
of wreckage. Samuel activated his inertial guidance block. Bright green
directional graphics flicked up over the monochrome sensor image, and he
eased himself forward. According to his suit sensors, the spaces between
the interlocking struts contained a thin molecular haze from the slowly
ablating metal.

The chinks were becoming smaller, with fragments scraping against his
armour as he hauled himself in the direction the graphics indicated. He
pulled a ten centimetre fission knife from his belt. The blades yellow
light shone brightly, shimmering off the strands of ash-grey metal. It
cut through without the slightest resistance.

<< I feel like some kind of Victorian soldier aristocrat hacking through
a jungle, >>he confided to the Oenones crew.

Scraps of crumbling metal were whirling round him, bouncing and twirling
off the corners and angles of the shambolic maze. The second
armour-suited figure had reached the gap: Renato Vella, who was quickly
wriggling along after him. One of the serjeants was next, followed by
Monica, another serjeant, then Oski Katsura. Syrinx and the crew used the
sensor blisters to watch them vanish inside one after the other.

<< Looking good, >>she said, sharing a quiet confidence with her crew.

Parker Higgens and Kempster Getchell walked into the bridge, and took the
chairs Syrinx indicated. Theyre making progress, Edwin told the two
elderly science advisors. At this rate, Samuel will have reached the
main airlock chamber in another ten minutes. They could be at their
target level in a couple of hours.

I hope so, Tyla said. The quicker were away from here, the better.
This place gives me the creeps. Do you suppose the Tyrathca souls are
watching us?

An interesting point, Parker said. Weve not had any reports of our
returning souls encountering a xenoc soul in the beyond.

So where do they go? Oxley asked.

Well put that on the list of questions for the Sleeping God, Kempster
said jovially. Im sure thats quite trivial compared to he broke off
as all the Edenists froze, closing their eyes in unison. What?

A starship, Syrinx hissed. Oenone can sense its distortion field.
Which means the Tyrathca detectors will pick it up, too. Oh . . . bloody
hell.

<< I see you, >>the Stryla gloated.



Etchells hadnt realized that there was a voidhawk accompanying the rogue
Adamist starship. Not until he swallowed in above Hesperi-LN, and started
scanning round for the ship hed pursued from the antimatter station.
There was plenty of activity above the xenoc planet, big sedate ships
powering their way into high inclination orbits, complementing the
protective sphere thrown up by the SD platforms. The twin moons were
sending out constant gravitational perturbations as they orbited round
each other, half a million kilometres above Hesperi-LN itself. A network
of sensor satellites. An unusually thick band of dust slithering above
the upper Van-Allen belt. He had to move around cislunar space in small
swallows so that his distortion field could complete a clean sweep above
the planet. The Adamist starship was easy to locate, a tight curve in the
uniformity of space-time. He focused on it, prying and probing at its
composition by creating a multitude of tiny ripples within his distortion
field, seeing how they reacted to the encounter, the diffraction pattern
created as they washed across the hull and internal machinery. One thing
was clear, it wasnt a Navy ship. The layout was all wrong for that. And
Navy ships didnt have an antimatter drive. Its main fusion generators
were shut down, leaving just a couple of ancillary tokamaks to power the
life support capsules; and the biggest give-away of all: its thermo-dump
panels were retracted. It was in stealth mode.

A Confederation Navy sanctioned starship on a clandestine mission in the
Tyrathca system. It would have to be a very important mission to risk an
inter-species clash at this delicate time. Etchells knew damn well it had
to be connected to the issue of possession somehow. Nothing else would
warrant approval. When he extrapolated its trajectory, he saw it was
going to fly past a moonlet. He ran through a batch of his stolen almanac
memories, discovering that the moonlet was actually an arkship, abandoned
over a thousand years ago after a flight from an exploding star. His
knowledge of Tyrathca history was almost zero, although the fundamentals
were there. But he certainly couldnt imagine any connection with their
ancient ship and the possession crisis.

A quick swallow manoeuvre put him a thousand kilometres from
Tanjuntic-RI, hours ahead of the Adamist starship, and he began to
examine it. That was when he found the stealthed voidhawk lurking so
close to the surface it was almost touching.

His flush of achievement was tempered by continuing worry. What the hell
were they doing here? It had to be important. Critical, even. Which meant
it was a threat to him. Among all his possible options, one thing was
very clear. They had to be prevented from achieving their goal, whatever
it was.

<< This is captain Syrinx of the voidhawk >>Oenone. << Who am I
addressing? >>

<< The names Etchells, and Im one of Capones hellhawks. >>

<< Leave this star system immediately. We will not hesitate to use force
to make you comply. >>

<< Tough bitch, huh? Well, give me a reason to leave. In fact, Id like
you to tell me what you two are doing here. >>

<< Our task is not your concern. Leave, now. >>

<< Wrong. I think it has a lot to do with me. >>Etchells launched a
combat wasp at the arkship, then immediately swallowed away. The wormhole
terminus opened a hundred kilometres from the Adamist starship. He loaded
a hunter program into another combat wasp, and launched it as he emerged
into real space.



As soon as Syrinx warned him a hellhawk had arrived, Joshua initiated
combat status. He knew damn well their cover either had been, or was
about to be, blown. Lady Macs main fusion generators powered up, the
full suite of combat sensors rose out of their recesses, combat wasp
launch tubes opened. Alkad Mzu and Peter Adul hurriedly secured
themselves on the large, zero-tau capable acceleration couches in the
lounge. Up in the bridge, webbing tightened around the crew.

Wormhole terminus opening, Beaulieu warned. One hundred kilometres.

Joshua triggered the Lady Macs triple fusion drives. That close wasnt
an accident, the hellhawk had their exact coordinate. Liol, maser the
bastard.

On it, Josh. A targeting program went primary in his neural nanonics.
Three of the starships eight maser cannons aligned themselves on the
terminus and fired. The beams caught the hellhawk as it slid out, and
tracked it perfectly. At a hundred kilometres, the inverse square law
meant they couldnt kill the hellhawk immediately. Joshua didnt care
about that. He just wanted to force it away. Lady Mac could take a lot
more radiation punishment than any bitek construct if the hellhawk wanted
an energy beam duel.

It didnt. A single combat wasp shot out of its launch cradle, curving
round to intercept Lady Mac. The hellhawks harpy shape wavered and
imploded into a narrow polyp ovoid pimpled by steel-grey mechanical
modules. It rolled frantically, trying to dodge the beams. After three
seconds of futile manoeuvring, its distortion field applied a
near-infinite force against space, and an interstice blossomed open.
Joshua fired four combat wasps to intercept the incoming drone, and
changed course again. His crew groaned in dismay as they accelerated at
ten gees. Space behind Lady Macs triad of dazzling fusion drive plumes
ruptured into a gale of plasma as the combat wasps ejected their
submunitions. A curtain of nuclear explosions erected an impenetrable
barrier while particle beams and X-ray lasers lashed out.

I think were clear, Beaulieu datavised. Our combat wasps knocked out
their combat wasp.

Joshua reviewed the sensor data, which was calming as the expanding
plasma wreathes from the explosions turned to purple then began to decay
through the spectrum. Stars began to shine through the squall of enraged
ions again. He reduced their acceleration to four gees, and switched
course once more.

We just ditched our softly softly policy, Sarha grunted.

Yeah, Dahybi said. Whoever possesses that hellhawk knows their
tactics. One combat wasp was never going to hurt us. But it made us
expose ourselves to the SD network.

Not just us, Beaulieu said.

The sensors were showing them another combat wasp clash developing
several hundred kilometres away from Tanjuntic-RI. Syrinx, where the
hell did it go? Joshua datavised. Could you get a fix?

It swallowed over to the moons, Syrinx said.

Joshua already had the star systems almanac file open. He reviewed the
data on the twin moons. Airless rocks, three thousand kilometres in
diameter. If they hadnt been orbiting Hesperi-LN theyd be categorised
as exceptionally large asteroids. Theres nothing there for it, he
protested. The Tyrathca dont even bother mining them the ores so poor.

I know. We think its just a good location for a tactical withdrawal at
this point in time. And itll be at least partially shielded from the SD
sensors. The Tyrathca probably dont know its here.

Great. Did you manage to get the team in?

Yes, theyre in. But Oenone is now holding station a hundred kilometres
out from Tanjuntic-RI in case the hellhawk tries to swallow in and launch
some more combat wasps. The arkship is very fragile, Joshua, it couldnt
withstand a nuclear assault. That leaves us totally exposed. The
Tyrathcas sensors have already locked on to us.

The flight computer reported that three radars were already focused on
Lady Macs hull. Shit. Joshua shut down the fusion drives and let the
starship coast along. Their trajectory wasnt taking them anywhere near
Tanjuntic-RI anymore. Theyre watching us, too, he told Syrinx. Now
what?

Its their move. We wait.

The message came eight minutes later, beamed at both Lady Macbeth and
Oenone from one of the low orbit docking stations. Human craft, you are
not permitted here. You have fired weapons above our planet. This is an
act of war. Leave now. Do not return.

Brief, but not open to much misinterpretation, Ashly said as the
message began to repeat. Im surprised they didnt put in an or else.

They just have, Beaulieu said. Three ships on their way to intercept
us. One-point-two-gee acceleration.

For them, thats really racing along, Liol said. The Tyrathca hate
high gees.

Another three fusion drive ignitions, Beaulieu said. One heading for
us. Two aligning on Tanjuntic-RI.

At least were out of range from the platforms combat wasps, Liol
said. That could have been nasty.

Whats your assessment? Joshua asked Syrinx. He started to run the
Tyrathca ship trajectories through some tactical analysis programs. While
he was doing it, another two ships ignited their fusion drives and
started to fly up on a course for the arkship.

I think the situations still manageable, she replied. Providing it
doesnt escalate any further.

Yeah. Im working on that aspect. Weve got to make sure the team can
continue. Youre going to have to stop that hellhawk from coming back to
Tanjuntic-RI.

We can swallow out to the moons and keep it very busy. But that leaves
the team without protection. One of those Tyrathca ships is bound to
investigate the arkship. Even with their phlegmatism, theyll want to
know what were doing here.

Leave it to me. Ill divert them. You get over to the moons.

Acknowledged. Joshua lifted his head, and smiled round at his crew.

Oh God, Sarha moaned with unfeigned consternation. I hate it when you
smile like that!

Cheer up. Were going to invade Hesperi-LN.



The rotating airlock chamber had survived the spaceport bearing seizure
almost intact. Samuel cut through the wall and floated into the big empty
space. His helmet lights automatically defocused, throwing their radiance
all around him. It was a cylindrical chamber, fifteen metres in diameter,
and fifty long; stark even by Tyrathca standards. The walls were lined
with a petrified sponge material resembling pumice stone, with thousands
of regularly spaced indentations. Each one was just big enough to accept
a Tyrathca breeders hoof.

There were three airlock hatches at each end, large circular affairs with
chunky electromechanical locking rims. Precisely halfway down the chamber
was a bulging hoop; the rotating seal to provide the Tyrathca with a
pressurized transfer from the arkship to the spaceport. Now, its working
fluid had evacuated, internal components were reduced to granular
sculptures of their former selves; a technological cave etching.

Renato Vella squirmed into the chamber with jerky motions, knocking large
chips of the wall material from the edge of the hole Samuel had cut. Oh
great, late era gloomy, he pronounced. They didnt exactly go in for
frills, did they?

I doubt a translator could even find an equivalent word, Samuel
datavised back.

The first serjeant was emerging from the hole, fracturing even more wall
material as it came. There was an almost identical hole a third of the
way round the wall, slightly larger. A matching opening had been made
next to one of the airlocks at the ship end of the chamber. Samuels
gauntlets gripped the indentations in the desiccated sponge fabric, and
he moved cautiously hand over hand towards it.

This must be where the archaeology team cut their way in, he datavised.
Wait. Yes. The suit sensors showed him a small plastic box fixed close
to the jagged rim by a blob of epoxy, narrow lines of red human lettering
covered a third of its dark blue surface. Some kind of communication
block. There are several cables running through the hole. He ordered his
suit communicator to transmit a standard interrogation signal. No
response. I guess the powers drained by now.

Shame, Renato datavised. It would have been convenient to have some
kind of communication net in there.

We could probably power it up again, Oski replied. Its only a century
old, the processors will be fully functional.

Forget it, Monica told them. The bitek processors can keep us in touch
with each other and Oenone. Were not going to be inside long enough to
justify getting cosy.

We hope, Samuel said. With the whole team now in the airlock chamber,
his helmet lights refocused into wide beams. He grasped the edge of the
old hole and pulled himself through.

The archaeology team had cut their way into a broad corridor that served
one of the large jammed-up airlocks. It was a simple, square section
shaft sliced straight through the rock, with the spongy hoof-grab fabric
along the floor, and pipes fastened to both walls. He barely did more
than look round, when Syrinx announced the presence of a hellhawk. She
gave them a running commentary as the other team members emerged into the
corridor.

The Oenone is swallowing over to the moons to tag the hellhawk, Syrinx
told them. Lady Macbeth will distract the Tyrathca.

For how long? Monica asked.

As long as possible, Joshua replied. Worst case, we fail completely.
Their first ship should reach Tanjuntic-RI in fifty-three minutesmark.

Thats no good. We wont even have reached the second level by then.

Ill swap with you any time.

Sorry, Joshua; that wasnt a complaint. How did that hellhawk know we
were here?

Probably followed us from the antimatter station, Syrinx said. It
wouldnt be too difficult.

Thank you, Captains, Samuel datavised. Well try to be as quick as we
can.

If things get too hot, let us know, Joshua replied.

Wed better get on, Samuel told the team. Every minute of lead time
could be indispensable later. He ordered his backpack to fire the cold
gas jets, and slid easily along the corridor to the first big airlock.
Monica triggered her own backpack, and glided after him.

The corridor flared out around the airlock, which was a typical example
of Tyrathca engineering: a square of titanium four metres in diameter
with rounded corners, edged with locking seals, thick, sturdy, and
reliable. And vacuum welded into place. The archaeology team had solved
the egress problem by cutting out a metre-wide circle of metal from the
Tyrathca slab and installing their own airlock. It was a simple
mechanical hatch with frictionless hinges and seals. A chrome handle was
half-recessed in the middle, with standard operating instructions
stencilled beside it.

Samuel secured himself and pulled the handle. His armours power
augmentation barely kicked in to help. The handle slid up, and rotated
ninety degrees.

One up to human engineering, Renato datavised as Samuel pushed the
hatch inwards.

Not really, Oski datavised. Its our materials science that makes the
difference. The hatch was designed for longterm vacuum exposure. Their
airlock was built with regular maintenance services in mind.

There was another corridor identical to the first on the far side of the
airlock. One of the serjeants shut the small hatch after them. This
corridor also ended in a big titanium airlock, with an identical human
hatch inserted. Samuel pulled the lever up. Before he could attempt to
push the hatch open, his suit sensors advised him of an environment
change. Its venting, he datavised. Very small nitrogen release,
minute contamination. Pressure must be equalising.

Open it, Monica datavised. There cant be any real atmosphere in
there. Were wasting time.

Samuel gripped one of the titanium spars with one gauntlet, and pushed
with the other. The suits power augmentation whined on the threshold of
audibility. A whirl of silvery dust scooted around Samuels armour as the
hatch flipped back.

Just how many of these corridors are there? Renato asked as he air-swam
through, only to be faced with yet another blank rock shaft. His inertial
guidance display showed him it was inclined slightly, heading away from
the rotation axis. Though there was still no appreciable gravity.

This is the last one, according to our file, Samuel said.

The airlock at the far end had a human hatch in it; there was also a
small plaque.



<< HIGH YORK UNIVERSITY
ARCHAEOLOGY EXPEDITION OF 2487 >>



<< We respectfully offer our tribute to the generations of Tyrathca who
ventured forth in this vessel. >>



<< In this place we have stumbled through the remnants of greatness,
eternally thankful for the glimpse of nobility they reveal. >>



<< Though the Tyrathca have no god, they are clearly not devoid of
miracles. >>



Renato floated over to the silvered plaque after Monica moved aside.
Well thats a nice way to start, he datavised. The archaeology
expedition never found any reference to a Tyrathca god.

We knew that already, Oski datavised. Besides, I doubt they were
looking. The only memory files they accessed were in the systems
management architecture. Weve got to go a lot deeper than that to find
anything useful.

Samuel shifted his sensors from the plaque to the hatch. I dont think
Ive ever felt more like a grave robber.

There have been worse assignments, Monica datavised. For you as well
as me, I suspect.

Samuel didnt reply. He grasped the hatchs handle and pulled up. This
time there was a significant gas vent.

This is it, Oski datavised. Were in. Terracompatible nitrogen oxygen
mix, several trace gases. Three per cent standard atmospheric pressure.
No water vapour content. Guess its too cold. Registering thirty degrees
below zero.

Checks with the file, Monica confirmed. Samuel pushed the hatch open
and glided through.

The archaeology expedition had spent six weeks exploring the interior of
Tanjuntic-RI. Given the timescale, it could hardly be thorough. But the
main sections were all mapped, allowing the nature of the arkships
engines and environmental maintenance mechanisms to be inspected.
Tanjuntic-RI was arranged in three principal levels. Along the rotation
axis were three long cylindrical chambers six hundred metres wide. Each
contained a shallow lake which served as the principal biological
recycling system. The water was a combination fish-tank/ algal air
regenerator, powered by a thermal lighting array strung along the axis.
Surrounding that was an extensive warren of hemispherical caverns linked
by kilometre after kilometre of broad corridors. This level was devoted
to engineering and flight maintenance; the caverns filled with machinery,
everything from fusion generators to chemical filtration plants,
cybernetic factories to mineral storage silos. The rear quarter of the
caverns were all used to house support systems and fuel for the fusion
engines.

Encircling the second level were the eight principal life support rings.
Tunnelled out of the rock and lined with metal, like giant binding bands;
they had a rectangular cross section, five hundred metres wide, a hundred
metres high. Their floor was a single looped strip of Tyrathca tower
houses threaded by narrow roads of greenery, a computer design programs
notion of urban pleasantries.

We need the third level, ring five, Oski datavised as soon as they were
through the last airlock. Thats where the archaeologists found the
control offices. A three dimensional map of the interior expanded into
her mind. Her guidance block extended a glowing green line through the
tunnels, linking her present location to ring five.

The last airlock had brought the team into a standard-sized corridor that
circled the forward end of the arkship. Over a hundred other corridors
branched off from it. Gravity was barely noticeable, taking several
minutes to pull objects towards the floor. Monica used her gas jets to
take her over to a clump of human crates stacked against the wall. The
thin, freezing atmosphere had turned the white plastic a faint cream. She
read some of their labels. Nothing we can use, she datavised. Its
their camp equipment. Programmable silicon shelters, life support units,
microfusion generators; that kind of thing.

What about lighting? a serjeant asked.

Good question. Monica shifted position, scanning more labels. Yes,
here we go. Monochrome projectors, three hundred metre illumination
radius. I dont think theyre self powered, though.

Leave it, Samuel datavised. We dont have the time. He fired his
manoeuvring pack and started drifting along the corridor. The wall
opposite the airlocks had archways leading away into the interior, their
depth defeating his suit sensors and lights. There should be a lift here
somewhere. Ah. The fifth archway had a palm-sized plastic disk stuck on
the wall beside it, a small lifelong beacon light in the centre. Samuel
couldnt resist flicking it with a gauntlet finger as he went past. There
was no spark of light from the beacon, its tritium-decay power source had
been exhausted decades ago.

His gas jets squirted strongly, steering him through the archway. Fifteen
metres down the corridor was a lift door: a single panel of metal ten
metres long and three high. The team didnt even pause by it. There was a
smaller door on either side, each heading a ramp that spiralled,
DNA-fashion, around the entire length of the lift shaft. One of them was
open; it had a dead light beacon just inside.

This should take us nearly a kilometre straight down, Samuel datavised.

At least itll be a smooth ride once the gravity kicks in, Renato
datavised. Thank god the Tyrathca dont use steps. Can you image the
size and spacing?

Monica halted in mid-air beside the doorway and focused her suit beams
through the gap. The downward slope was barely noticeable, though the
curve was pronounced. She took a tube dispenser from her belt, and
thumbed out the first disk. Jupiter had supplied the little bitek
sensors, completely transparent disks a centimetre wide. Their affinity
range was only a few kilometresenough for this mission. She pressed it
against the door rim. It stuck instantly. When she requested an affinity
bond with it from her suits bitek processor, the disk revealed a
fish-eye view of the corridor, with the suits floating before the ramp
doorway.

Pity we dont have a swarm of bitek insects covering the interior, she
datavised. Samuel didnt rise to the jibe. But thisll give us plenty of
warning. Theres a motion trigger if anything starts moving around behind
us.

Onward, then, Samuel datavised. His gas jets flared, pushing him along
the ramp.

Everyones bitek processor received Joshuas troubled hail. Im afraid
youre going to have company, he announced.



Lady Mac was accelerating at six gees, a quarter of a million kilometres
above Hesperi-LN and heading in a shallow curve around the planets north
pole. Two five-strong formations of Tyrathca ships were heading out to
intercept, rising from their hundred thousand kilometre orbits at one and
a half gees. He wasnt worried about them, nor the three ships that were
on course for the twin moons to investigate the antics of the two bitek
starships. Another group of four ships were flying straight for
Tanjuntic-RI, seventy-five thousand kilometres from Lady Mac.

Definite interception course, Beaulieu confirmed. Looks like they want
to know what was going on there.

Wonderful, Joshua grunted. The only way to stop them is if they think
were hostile.

I think they know that already, Sarha said with as much irony as five
gees allowed.

As soon as theyd accelerated along their present course, Joshua had
launched three combat wasps. There was no real target designation, just
the planet; and they were programmed to detonate ten thousand kilometres
above the atmosphere if they managed to get that far. But the Tyrathca
didnt know that. All theyd seen was three nuclear missiles charging in
towards their planet at twenty-seven gees: an unprovoked attack from a
human starship that was continuing to manoeuvre in a hostile manner.

Joshua changed course again, flying along a vector which would take him
below the ships heading for Tanjuntic-RIlogically, a position he could
bombard the planet from. Another two combat wasps flew out of their
tubes, searing fusion drives thrusting them towards the four ships.

It was a good tactical move, which almost paid off. Three of the Tyrathca
ships changed course to defend themselves against the combat wasps and
pursue Lady Mac. The fourth remained on course for the arkship.

Thirteen ships heading right at us, Beaulieu confirmed. Twelve SD
platforms have also acquired lock on. No combat wasp launch yet.

Joshua reviewed the tactical situation display again, purple and orange
vector lines flipping round inside his skull. Lady Mac was now heading in
almost the opposite direction to the last Tyrathca ship. There was
nothing left he could do to distract it. The only option left was an
attack, which wasnt an option at all. First he would have to reverse his
current vector which would take up a vast amount of time and delta-V,
then he would have to fight his way past the three other ships with their
potentially large stock of combat wasps. And even if he achieved that,
hed have to kill the ship to stop it rendezvousing.

It was a bad deal. The Tyrathca crewing the ship were innocentjust
trying to defend themselves and their world against aggressive xenocs.
Although, if you looked at it in an abstract way, they could well be all
that stood between the exploration team and salvation from the possessed.
Can you really allow a dozen Tyrathca to bring about the end of an entire
race because of what was essentially a communication breakdown on a
multitude of levels?

Joshua used the bitek array to call the exploration team and warn them of
the approaching ship. We estimate itll dock in another forty minutes,
he said. Just how long do you need?

If everything goes without a hitch, a couple of hours, Oski said. But
I would think a day would be more realistic.

A day is out of the question, Joshua said. If I get seriously noisy
out here I might be able to buy you an hour or so.

Thats not necessary, Joshua, a serjeant said. This is a very big
ship. If they do come on board, theyll have to find us.

Not too difficult with infrared sensors.

Thats assuming a straightforward pursuit scenario. Now we know the
Tyrathca are coming, we can make that pursuit extremely difficult for
them. And there is also the Horatius option to consider. We four are
expendable, after all.

Our weapons are superior, as well, Monica said. Now we havent got to
worry about the hardware glitching on us, we can deploy some real
firepower.

What about getting out afterwards? Dahybi asked.

Advance planning for a situation this fluid is a waste of time, Samuel
said. Lets wait until we have the relevant data before we consider how
to achieve extraction.

Okay, Joshua said reluctantly. Your call. But were here if you need
us. He returned to the tactical situation. Lady Mac wasnt in any real
danger from the planets defences. She was too far away from the Tyrathca
ships and SD platforms. At this separation distance, any combat wasp
would take a minimum of fifteen minutes to reach them. The starship could
jump out of trouble long before that.

Right, lets keep these bastards busy, Joshua said. He instructed the
flight computer to fire another combat wasp at the planet.



Halfway down the giant spiral ramp, the easiest way to descend was to sit
and slide. Black frost had coated the floor, sending broad tendrils
scurrying up the wall like frigid creepers. Along with the others Monica
was bumping along on her bum as if she was on an aprs ski glissade,
gradually picking up speed, and ignoring the total lack of dignity.
Clouds of filthy ice motes were spraying up from where the suit was
making its grinding contact with the ramp. Every now and then shed hit
an uneven patch and glide through the air for a metre.

Getting near the bottom, Samuel datavised.

He was two people down the line from Monica, nearly obscured by the black
particle haze. Suit beams were jouncing about chaotically, throwing
discordant shadows across the walls.

Monica put her gauntlets down to try and brake her speed. They just
skipped and skidded about. Just how do we slow down? she asked.

Manoeuvring pack. Samuel triggered the jets at full throttle, feeling
the gentle thrust slow him. The serjeant directly behind bumped into his
back. Everybody at once, please.

The ramp shaft was suddenly full of whirling pearly-white fog as ice
granules and nitrogen blended together, boosting the air pressure. Suit
lights fluoresced it to a uniform opacity.

Monica shifted to micro-radar as her speed slowed drastically. This time
when she put her hands down she pressed hard enough to activate the
augmentation. It allowed her to dig her fingertips into the sheet of ice,
producing a loud wince-inducing screech as they gouged out ten straight
furrows. She halted on a relatively flat section. Radar showed her the
end of the ramp fifteen metres ahead and the other armour suits skating
elegantly to a halt around her. The white fog vanished as quickly as itd
emerged, sucked away back up the ramp, and out through the archway ahead.

They picked themselves up and scanned round. The ramp had come out at an
intersection of eight corridors. Beacons had been stuck on each archway.
The ice along the floor of every corridor was slightly rumpled, like
stone paving slabs worn by centuries of feet. Nothing else showed the
archaeology expedition had once passed this way.

This is where we should split up, one of the serjeants datavised. Two
of us will lay heat trails, while you head for ring five.

Monica accessed the archaeology expeditions map file, and integrated it
with her inertial guidance block. Orange graphics overlaid her sensor
vision, indicating the corridor they should take. She took another sensor
disk from the tube and stuck it on the wall. Okay. You two take care,
theyll be here in another twenty minutes. Oski, Renato, lets go. The
four humans and two remaining serjeants started off down the corridor,
bouncing along in low glides in the one-third gravity field.

Iones quad mind started to melt away into four more individual,
independent identities as the serjeants separated from each other. One of
her chose a corridor which the map file showed would lead towards a
chemical plant of some kind. She drew a laser pistol and datavised it to
a very low power setting, with an intermittent discharge varying over
three seconds. As she walked forwards in long loping steps she began
sweeping it in a short arc, keeping the muzzle pointed at the ground.
Speckle points of warmth blossomed around her feetnever enough to thaw
the ice, just to make an imprint. To an infrared sensor it would appear
as if several people had walked along beside her.

The darkness which contracted around the bubble of light from her suit
lights was absolute, isolating her to an unnerving degree, a fact only
slightly alleviated by affinity contact with her other three selves and
Samuel.

My third experience of life outside Tranquillity, and its just rock
tunnels not much different from Ayacucho. But a lot more oppressive, and
thats without the possessed after me.

The others in the team were feeling the same low harmonic of unease.
Monica was leading now, a locomotion auto-balance program keeping her
movements smooth and steady in the low gravity. Despite the depressing
surroundings, their easy progress was confidence enhancing. Shed had a
lot of misgivings about the whole mission, and this part most of all. In
her mind during the flight here, Tanjuntic-RI had taken on the appearance
of a large chunk of debris, just like the fragments that made up the Ruin
Ring. Reality was considerably better. Nothing was broken inside the
arkship, merely neglected and cold. She could even imagine revitalizing
the old wanderer. If the fusion generators could be started up again, and
power fed through the distribution net, it would be a simple matter for
light and heat to return.

How come they abandoned this? she asked. Why not rendezvous with an
asteroid and use it as a ready-made base for their microgee industry?

Because of the upkeep, Oski datavised back. The whole thing is
interdependent, you cant just keep a life support ring going and dump
the rest. And its big. Keeping it functioning would take too much effort
for the level of return. They were much better off building smaller-scale
asteroid habitation caverns from scratch.

Shame. At the very least the Tyrathca could have made a fortune selling
it as a human tourist destination.

Thatll be that famous phlegmatism of theirs. They just dont care about
it.

After five minutes they came to the first second-level cavern. A
hemisphere two hundred metres high, the walls ribbed by bands of tubes.
There was a single huge machine in the centre, supported by ten
three-metre-thick pipes that rose out of the ground to act as its legs.
Another ten pipes emerged from the top of the machine to vanish into the
chambers apex. The team stood just inside the entrance, playing their
suit beams over the metal beast. Its sides were fluted with long glass
columns, tarnished on the inside with heat-blackened chrome. Valves,
coils, relays, motors, intake grids, high-voltage transformers, and pumps
protruded from the rest of the edifice like metallic warts.

What in Christs name is that? Renato asked.

Access your file, Oski told him. Its some kind of biological reactor.
They bred a lot of organic compounds inside it.

Renato walked over to one of the big pipes and took a look directly
underneath the reactors formidable bulk. The casing had cracked as the
arkship lost its heat, allowing ragged strings of some blue green
compound to ooze out all over the base. Theyd clotted in hanging webs
before freezing solid. Smears and stains of other liquids were splattered
across the floor.

Theres something wrong with all of this, Renato datavised.

What do you mean? Samuel asked.

Just look at this thing. The young astronomer slapped his hand against
the pipe. Even in the rarefied atmosphere, the suit audio sensors could
pick up a faint clang. Its, like . . . immortal. I cant imagine
anything else occupying this chamber since the day they left their star.
I know theyll have rebuilt it a hundred times during the voyage. And I
know they go for the brute strength engineering solutions. But I dont
understand how nothing can have changed in fifteen thousand years.
Nothing, for Christs sake. How can you draw a line across your
technology and say we will never develop anything that goes beyond this?

Youll be able to ask them soon, Monica datavised. Their ship will
reach us in another ten minutes. Look, Renato, I know this is all
fascinating, but we really dont have the time. Okay?

Sure, Im sorry. I just hate unsolved puzzles.

Thats what makes you a good scientist. And Im glad youre here to help
us. Now, this is the corridor we want. Monica left another sensor disk
on one of the stolid pipes and started walking again. Renato took a last
glance at the ancient reactor and followed her. The two serjeants brought
up the rear.



The Tyrathca ship is definitely docking, Beaulieu said. Theyve
matched velocities with Tanjuntic-RI.

Bugger, Joshua grunted. They were enjoying a slight lull in the
three-dimensional chess game that was the high-orbit diversion. Lady Mac
was accelerating at one gee, sliding over Hesperi-LNs pole at a hundred
and seventy-five thousand kilometres altitude. Eighteen combat wasps were
arrowing in towards her from every direction, a classic englobing
manoeuvre. The closest one would reach them in another four minutes. At
least the hellhawk wasnt a current factor. Syrinx confirmed they were
still chasing the Stryla round the two moons.

Liol, break the bad news to the team, will you? Joshua concentrated on
the starships systems schematic, ordering the flight computer to
configure the hull for a jump. Somewhere near the back of his mind,
almost in the subconscious, was a smiling astonishment that he could now
be so confident about taking part in a space battle. Contrast his, and
the crews, calm responses and performance today to the frantic shouting
and adrenaline powered high-gee desperation above Lalonde, and it was as
though they used to belong in an alternative universe. The major
difference, of course, was that hed initiated this, he was calling the
shots.

Dahybi?

Nodes charged and on line. Ready to jump, Captain.

Great. Lets see how accurate we can be. He cut the fusion drives and
initiated the jump.

The watching Tyrathca saw the dangerous invader vanish from the middle of
their combat wasp swarm. SD sensors picked up its emergence point
simultaneously, fifty thousand kilometres from where it had jumped. Its
fusion drive came on again, powering it back down towards the planet,
presenting fresh danger to the population. The pursuing craft all changed
course to resume their chase.



A crackling smog of hot ions splashed across the front of Tanjuntic-RI as
the Tyrathca ship finished its approach manoeuvre. Electrical discharges
flashed along the remnants of the superconductor grid, burning off the
fragile surface molecules in scintillating spectral fountains. The pilot
hadnt bothered to rendezvous at a distance and nudge in towards the
spaceport cone using secondary drives. Their flight vector was projected
to bring them to a halt less than a kilometre from the arkship,
completely disregarding the damage the fusion drives would inflict on the
ancient vessel.

The ship was a typical Tyrathca inter-planetary craft, a simple cylinder
a hundred and fifty metres wide, three hundred long. Unlike human designs
which were built round a load-carrying gantry to which modules and
capsules were attached as required, this had everything encased inside an
aluminium hull. A basic, ugly workhorse of a ship, discoloured by years
of exposure to the thermal and ultraviolet emissions of Hesperi-LNs
star. Four big rectangular hatches were spaced equidistantly round its
front end, while five stumpy fusion rocket nozzles protruded from the
rear.

When it finished its deceleration burn it was floating parallel to
Tanjuntic-RIs spaceport, two kilometres out. Small chemical rockets
flared around its edges, brilliant sulphur yellow flames pushing the ship
in towards the rotation axis. It started to turn at the same time,
aligning its base towards the spaceport. The chemical rockets around its
front end throttled up to maximum, and two fusion rockets ignited
briefly. Their plasma plumes stabbed out, twin incandescent spears
transfixing the centre of the spaceport. The burn didnt last for more
than a couple of seconds, nor was it particularly powerful. But the
damage caused was immense. Metal and composite detonated into vapour,
roaring out from the impact point.

It was too much for the enfeebled spaceport structure to withstand. The
entire cone of stacked disks snapped off close to the base, tumbling
away. Individual disks tore loose, spinning off in every direction,
spewing fragments as they went. One disk actually collided with
Tanjuntic-RI, crumpling as if it were made from paper before it started
to rebound. All that was left of the spaceports support column was a
shattered ten metre stub sticking out from the rock. It was rapidly
eclipsed as the massive Tyrathca ship positioned itself directly
overhead. Two hatches hinged open, and several dozen pale ovoid shapes
were ejected. At first they drifted as aimlessly as thistledown in a
zephyr, then puffs of gas erupted from small spouts around their crests,
and they started to fly in towards the broken end of the support column.



Hesperi-LNs twin moons were not a hospitable location for spacecraft.
Their clashing gravity fields had drawn in a great deal of cosmic debris
since their formation, and continued to do so. Dust, sand, and smaller
motes were eventually liberated by the solar wind, light-pressure and
high energy elementary particles blowing them back out towards the stars.
But the larger chunks remained. Pebbles, boulders, entire asteroids; once
theyd fallen into a looping orbit, they were slowly hauled in over the
millennia as the ever-changing gravity perturbed their new orbit.
Ultimately, they wound up at the central Lagrange point, poised
equidistantly between the moons. It was a cluttered zone over a hundred
kilometres across, visible from the surface of Hesperi-LN as a fuzzy grey
patch. In composition, it mimicked a galaxy, with the largest asteroids
clumped together at the centre, surrounded by a whirl of smaller boulders
and stony nuggets.

A place, then, where the use of combat wasps and energy beams was
essentially impossible. You could stay within its fringes and observe
your enemy waiting outside with impunity. Providing you could ward off
the clouds of dark, high-velocity gravel swirling endlessly around the
periphery of the Lagrange cluster.

Oenones attempts to pursue the hellhawk inside the cluster had come to
nothing. After twenty minutes of dangerous slaloming and weaving, during
which it gained barely a hundred metres on the contemptuous hellhawk,
Syrinx had decided enough was enough. They were draining the energy cells
at an alarming rate to maintain the distortion field, essential to
deflect the hail of stone from the hull. And they would need that power
later, no matter what the outcome at Tanjuntic-RI. She told Oenone to
halt and match the orbital vector of the surrounding particles.

Once Etchells realized he was no longer being actively pursued, he also
eased back, and simply held his position. They were no more than fifteen
kilometres apart. Though the only way they knew that was by sensing each
other with their distortion fields, visual or radar observation was
impossible.

<< This is not a valid status quo, >>Syrinx told the hellhawk. << There
are three Tyrathca ships on their way to us. You cannot stay inside the
cluster forever. Leave this system. >>

<< Not a chance, >>Etchells said. << Youve got to stay here with me,
now. That means Ive won. You cant achieve whatever the fuck you came
here to do. And your Adamist pals are in deep shit. Theyre neutered,
too. >>

<< With reservations, I will accept that observation, >>she told him,
careful not to let any emotional context slip into the affinity contact.
He obviously wasnt aware theyd landed the team in Tanjuntic-RI. All
they had to do was keep him here until Oski and Renato had accessed the
files.

<< String him along, >>she told the crew. << I want to monitor the
spacecraft situation. We may have to move in a hurry. >>

<< Of course, >>Cacus said.

<< Ruben, get our new fusion generators on line. Id like Oenones energy
cells recharged as fast as possible. When we leave here, I want to be
able to leave this hellhawk far behind. >>

<< Understood. >>Ruben ordered the processor array to begin the generator
power up sequence.



The links between the second and third levels on Tanjuntic-RI were mainly
cargo lifts. Again, each of them was wrapped by the ubiquitous spiralling
ramps. The exploration team had to engage their boot spikes as they made
their way down one which led to ring five. Icy floors combined with the
strengthening gravity provided a treacherous environment.

There was a large airlock chamber at the bottom, with doors more suited
to bank vaults than spaceships. But this had been the Tyrathcas first
line of defence against a breach in the upper levels, their design
philosophy had come into its own here. As tribute to that efficiency,
Tanjuntic-RIs caverns and rings still retained a tiny atmosphere after
thirteen centuries of disuse.

A cache of human machinery was spread out before the door at the end of
the ramp: a couple of microfusion generators, mobile cherry-picker
platforms, industrial thermal inducer plates, hydraulic rams, and
electromechanical actuators; all hooked together with loosely bundled
cables and flexible hoses. The archaeology expedition had used them to
reactivate the massive airlock. It was a quarter open, allowing them
access to ring five. Four small jeeps were parked just inside, standard
airless-planet mobility vehicles, with large low-pressure tyres and a
composite latticework chassis. Ridiculously dainty in comparison to the
engineering on display around them.

Samuel went over and inspected them, flicking switches on the dashboard.
Im getting a response from the control processor, he datavised.
Theres some power left in the standby circuits, but thats about all.
The main energy cells are dead.

Irrelevant, Monica datavised. She ordered her suit lamps to emit a
high-wattage pulse, and readied the sensors. Her neural nanonics memory
froze the image when the lights flared. Buffer programs isolated the
image for her to examine.

Not even the suits lights could penetrate the gloom right across the
ring. As a result, the curvature effect was completely lost. She was
standing in a metal cave, walls, floor, and ceiling made up from millions
of aluminium alloy panels, heat sealed to the naked rock underneath and
welded together. Plants had been grown up the walls while the arkship was
occupied, vigorous creepers clawing their way along metal trellises.
Their leaves were black and wizened now, dead from lack of water and
light long before the heat seeped away into space. But the cold had
arrived before theyd fallen in their final autumn, sprinkling them with
frost then freezing them into place against the dull metal tiling.

The rings ceiling had an analogue in human warehouse roofs; criss
crossed with thick pipes and sturdy gantry crane rails, giving the vast
chamber an overtly industrial feel. Its illumination had been provided by
thousands of large circular disks of smoked glass, which peered out of
the gaps.

A winter wonderland palace, Monica datavised. Even if it was built by
the devils own elves.

How could they live in this, for Christs sake? Renato asked. Its
just a machine. Theres no attempt to make it pleasing or hospitable. You
couldnt stay inside all of your life, it would drive you insane.

Us, Oski datavised. Not them. They dont have our psychological
profile.

I expect they would find one of our habitats to be equally
disenchanting, Samuel said.

The Tyrathca have arrived, one of the serjeants datavised.

Everyone saw it through the sensor disk Monica had left up in level one.
A flash of light from the airlock which led up to the spaceport support
column. Large jagged sections of the square titanium hatch flew into the
corridor, rebounding from the walls amid cascades of ice chips to twirl
away in both directions. The Tyrathca emerged, and began moving in a slow
canter towards the entrance to the spiral ramp. They were in spacesuits,
which made it hard to tell between breeders and soldiers. Although the
SII had tried many times to sell them programmable silicon suits modified
to their physiology, theyd resolutely stuck to their own original design.

The body of Tyrathca spacesuits was made from a tough flexible plastic, a
silvery blue in colour, like metallic silk. They formed overalls that
were loose and baggy enough for the big creatures to slip into easily,
with concertina-like tubes for legs and arms. After that, instead of
inflating them with oxygen, they were pumped full with a thick gel,
expelling all the air. Given how many limbs (and therefore joints) a
Tyrathca body had, such a concept neatly did away with the problem of
providing multiple pressurized joints on every suit. In order to breathe,
they wore simple tight-fitting masks inside the suits. Oxygen tanks, a
regulator mechanism, and a heat exchanger were worn in a pack along their
backs, with two black radiator fins running along their spine. Additional
equipment was carried on a harness around their necks.

Looks like subtlety is another trait we dont share, Monica datavised.
They must have blown out every airlock along that first corridor to get
inside. The sensor disk is registering a lot of gas motion in that
corridor. They just dont care that Tanjuntic-RI is going to vent its
remaining atmosphere.

If they dont, we shouldnt, Renato datavised. It wont affect our
mission.

Theyre all armed, Samuel datavised. Even the breeders.

The Tyrathca were each carrying a pair of long matt-black rifles, with
coiled leads plugged into power packs on their harnesses. Monica put an
armaments library file into primary mode, and let it run through the
catalogue for a match. Masers, she datavised. Fairly basic
medium-output projectors. Our armour should withstand an energy strike
from them. But if we get caught in a saturation situation well be in
trouble. And theyre carrying other ordnance as well. I think I can make
out some guided rockets, and EE grenades on those harnesses. Human-built.

I wonder who sold those to them, Oski datavised. I thought the
Confederation didnt permit armaments sales to the Tyrathca.

Not relevant, Samuel datavised. Come on, lets locate that control
office the archaeology expedition found.

Monica bled in her suit sensors infrared visualization as they moved
off. The Tyrathca buildings materialized around her, tapering towers of a
pale blue luminescence, like flame frozen against the empty blackness
which stretched out along the ring. It was a cold necropolis, with every
street and building identical, as if each section had been stamped from
the same die and laid out end to end. Gardens of tangled plants besieged
each of the towers, their entwined stalks caught in the act of sagging.
Unrelenting cold had turned the vegetation as hard and black as cast
iron. Fanciful leaves, strangely shaped flowers and bloated seed pods had
all been reduced to the same sombre shade of charcoal.

Damn, those Tyrathca can move fast in low-gee, Samuel datavised. They
hadnt been walking ten minutes, and already the Tyrathca had reached the
bottom of the first spiral ramp. A sensor disk showed one of them
sweeping a portable electronic scanner over the floor while the others
waited behind. The group split into three, following the various thermal
trails.

I make that eighteen coming our way, Monica datavised. I think weve
got four breeders. Theyre slightly larger.

I will return to the entrance, one of the serjeants datavised. I will
have time to lay several false heat trails before they reach this ring.
That should split them again. And I may manage to close the airlock door.
Either way, it will reduce the force that will ultimately pursue you.

Thank you, Monica datavised.

The serjeant turned round, and walked back down the road.

And then there were five, Renato muttered uneasily round his respirator
tube.



Ione wanted to know as soon as possible what the Tyrathca intended. The
knowledge would certainly help her plan the kind of tactics needed to
keep them away from the team. The two diversion serjeants had busily laid
their heat trails, meandering between several of the big machinery
chambers on the second level. That was when she found that the map made
by the archaeologists was not perfect. Several times, shed had to use
her inertial guidance to work out where she was when corridors didnt
correspond to the indicated layout. It was a factor to consider when she
sketched in her possible escape routes. The Tyrathca wouldnt suffer from
such misinformation. Tanjuntic-RIs exact topology would be known to
them; passed down from generation to generation via their chemical
program glands.

One of the diversion serjeants was now hanging back from the archway that
opened into a hemispherical chamber. It was a big space, occupied by what
appeared to be a refinery constructed entirely out of glass. Colonnades,
spheres, bulbs, and minarets formed their own miniature city, bound
together with a tangled lattice of tubes. Individual containers were full
of coloured liquids that had turned to ice. Cracks were visible
everywhere. If heat ever did return to this chamber, the whole edifice
would probably collapse.

There were three other entrances to the glass refinery, the one opposite
the serjeant was where the heat trail from the ramp led. Sensor disks on
the corridor wall showed Ione the Tyrathca advancing steadily along it.
Ione waited. She knew her suits heat signature would be visible to the
Tyrathca as soon as they entered the refinery chamber, shining with the
tenacity of a red dwarf star against the arctic corridor.

The first Tyrathca came in. Stopped. Raised the scanner it was holding,
pointing it directly at her. Her suit communication block picked up a
burst of encrypted data. The whole column of Tyrathca came to a halt.
Then two of them moved up to support the first. They immediately fanned
out on either side of the chamber, reducing her target opportunity.

<< Damn, >>she said. << I think we can kiss the entrapment goodbye. The
rest are waiting to see what happens. >>

<< It was to be expected, >>Samuel replied. << They are soldier-caste,
after all. Bred for conflict. The breeders dont need to impart chemical
programs of tactics among them; such knowledge is instinctive. >>

The serjeant moved out of the shallow alcove which had been masking it.
Ione was ordering the communication block to open a channel on the
frequency the Tyrathca were using when both the soldiers fired their
maser rifles. The beams struck the serjeants armour, almost overloading
its energy dissipation web. She jumped, a movement enhanced considerably
by low gravity and the suits augmentation. At the same time she
triggered the EE charges shed placed above each of the chambers
entrances. Tonnes of rock descended in four separate avalanches, sealing
the three Tyrathca in.

Ione climbed to her feet, and focused the suit sensors back. The jump had
sent her soaring fifty metres down the corridor, barely avoiding hitting
the roof. Small lumps of rock were spinning and bouncing towards her in
lazy motions. The sensor disks in the refinery chamber showed nothing but
a swirling cloud of dust, while the others showed the remaining Tyrathca
retreating swiftly. They started to split up, vanishing down side
corridors where there were no sensors to follow them.

<< The bad news is theyre operating a shoot-to-kill policy, >>she said.
<< I guess theyre not curious why were here. >>

<< Thats to be expected, >>Samuel said. << You dont evolve an entire
caste devoted to aggression unless you have a great need for them. The
Tyrathca social structure is based around a clan hierarchy, they are
extremely territorial. And were violating their oldest piece of
territory in defiance of their explicit instructions. >>

<< Yes. Well at least you know what to expect when they reach ring five.
Now Id better get out of here before they pop up from some secret
passage and shoot me. >>



The control offices were a series of rooms bored into the wall of ring
five, fourteen hundred metres from the spiral ramp. Simple open
rectangles, plated in aluminium alloy, with the floor covered in
composite. Each room was lined by bulky computer terminals, with twin
rosette keyboards for Tyrathca fingers. The walls above them were covered
by long display screens to project the arkships engineering schematics
and navigational plot. To all intents and purposes, this was
Tanjuntic-RIs bridge.

According to the archaeology expedition there was less frost and ice
inside, which had permitted them to reactivate several of the electronic
systems without much trouble. The control offices were on an independent
environmental circuit with a much reduced humidity level; and the
airlocks were shut prior to the arkships final evacuation so there was
no contamination from ring fives damper atmosphere.

The archaeology expedition had known the sealed rooms were important;
theyd traced the arkships internal communication network, and
discovered the principal node was inside. With due respect, theyd
installed their own hatches in the Tyrathca airlocks, as they had up in
level one. There was no worry about atmospheric contamination any more,
not with all the water frozen out. But they wanted to maintain the
environmental integrity. This was the first human exploration through an
artefact belonging to a sentient xenoc species; ethics was a paramount
concerneven though the Tyrathca were indifferent to such matters.

So, Monica and the others discovered, was someone else.

The large titanium rectangles leading to the control offices had been
reactivated and opened, swinging back against the chamber wall. Not only
that, the safety interlocks had somehow been circumvented, allowing all
three to be opened at once. The five suited figures stood in front of the
opening, scanning round with their sensors.

This has got to be it, Monica datavised. The human hatches are still
here. The archaeologists didnt install them anywhere else.

Has there been another expedition since the first? Renato asked.

If there was, then neither Earth, Jupiter, nor Kulu knew anything about
it, Samuel datavised. I have to say thats extremely unlikely.

In any case, why not just use the archaeology teams hatches? Renato
asked. We know they work. It must have taken a lot of effort to get
these brutes open again.

Oski stepped forward gingerly, using a hand-held sensor pad to scan
around the airlock rim. I cant pick up any electrical impulses. But
this was opened very recently. Theres still some very faint thermal
traces in the surrounding structure. They probably had to warm the
airlocks back up to their operating temperature to get them to function
again.

Monica resisted the instinct to whirl round and check the streets of the
necropolis behind. Her suits micro radar was scanning constantly for any
sign of local movement. But the arkships chill had somehow managed to
stroke her skin through the armour. How recent? she asked.

Within the last five days.

And not human, Renato datavised.

Why do you say that?

Obvious. If it was our species, they would have used the hatches the
archaeologists installed. Whoever it was, they were too big to fit
through them.

It has to be the Kiint, Samuel datavised. After all, they are partly
the reason were here. Ione and Kelly were right, Lieria was interested
in the Sleeping God. And this is the obvious place where information on
it would be stored. They must have teleported in here not long after they
left Tranquillity. And simply opening the original airlock is the kind of
elegance Id expect from them. Weve seen what the Tyrathca do to doors
that wont budge for them.

Why not just teleport directly inside the control offices? Monica asked.

Theyre extremely small on a cosmic scale. Im guessing such an action
would require impossible accuracy, especially over three hundred light
years from Jobis.

Could be. Do you think theyre still here?

Oski pointed her sensor pad along the short airlock tunnel. Its inert
as far as I can tell.

And our time is running out, Monica datavised. Lets get in there.

The control offices were noticeably warmer. Suit sensors detected thermal
concentrations around three of the computer terminals in the second room.
This is the astrogration centre, Oski datavised. One of our
information targets. If were to get a fix on the Sleeping Gods
location, we ought to find it stored in here.

Get started, Monica datavised. The sensor disks were showing her the
Tyrathca moving through the second level chamber with the biological
reactor. Theyd slowed their advance slightly since the diversion
serjeants attempted entrapment, treating each chamber with suspicion,
never allowing more than three soldiers inside together. Even so, theyd
be at the spiral ramp leading to ring five in another fifteen minutes.

Oski and Renato knelt down beside one of the terminals, and spread out
their equipment. Monica, Samuel, and the last serjeant quickly searched
the remaining rooms, then went back out into ring five.

We should backtrack a bit and lay some false heat trails, Monica
datavised. That will give us a few minutes more.

I dont think it will, Samuel replied. By the time they get here, it
will be obvious to them that we came for the control offices. Diversions
wont work. We shall have to defend our position.

Shit, I hope not, because this is a tactical lost cause. They can come
at us from all sides, and we dont have a way out.

But we do have superior weaponry. Lets just hope we dont have to use
it.

Fine. And now weve actually reached the mission target, why dont we
start thinking of a way out of here.



The second diversion serjeant had rigged a hundred-and-fifty-metre length
of corridor. A simple enough entrapment: wait until the lead Tyrathca
reached the EE charge, then trigger both of them. The length of corridor
should trap all twelve of the pursuing xenocs between the rockfalls. But
when the lead Tyrathca approached the first EE charge, it slowed, and the
others stopped. Ione cursed as it moved forwards carefully, waving its
scanner round. She must have left an abnormal thermal trace in the
corridor when she was placing the EE charges.

The Tyrathca consulted the scanner display a final time, and pointed its
maser rifle at the corridor roof. If the beam did wash over the EE
charges trigger electronics, the radiation would destroy them.

Annoyed, Ione set off the EE charge, bringing down a five metre section
of roof. It didnt harm any of the Tyrathca. They cantered back down the
corridor and split up, presumably to bypass the blockage and pick up the
diversion serjeants heat trail again. Although without any sensor disk
coverage, she couldnt be sure where they were. She started to move
again, heading deeper into the arkships interior, certain they werent
ahead of her, at least.



Oski was in her element. Worry about her physical predicament had
vanished completely as she and Renato removed the computer terminal
panels, exposing the circuitry inside. Tyrathca electronics lagged behind
current human systems by several generationsif not centuries. She hadnt
dealt with anything this crude since her compulsory History of
Electronics semester while she was studying for her degree.

Renato followed her datavised instructions efficiently, tracing the
terminals main power cable and splicing in one of the energy matrices
theyd brought with them. Small coloured symbols ringing the rosette
keyboard lit up.

Thank heavens they dont have any imagination, Oski datavised. Id
hate to try and do this kind of thing on nonstandard systems in the
timescale weve got. But thats a null concept for the Tyrathca.

Which I still think is a paradox, Renato datavised. Imagination is the
root cause of all fresh ideas. You cant design a starship without it.
Its the Siamese twin of curiosity.

Which they also dont seem to have much of.

But probing your environment is a basic survival trait. You have to know
if theres any kind of threat out there if you want to keep on living.
Then you have to work out how to overcome it.

Im not arguing. Lets just save it for another time, okay? Oski began
attaching the processor blocks shed brought to the databuses inside the
terminus; unspooling long ribbons of fibre optic cable with custom built
interface plugs on the end. The Laymil project had the specifications of
known Tyrathca electronic systems on file in Tranquillity, of course; but
shed referenced the archaeology expeditions records to be sure.
Tanjuntic-RIs systems were identical to those used today, even down to
the size and configuration of the sockets. Fifteen thousand years of
standardisation! Renato was right: that wasnt merely odd, it was
downright eerie.

The interface plugs clicked smoothly into their sockets, and the block
datavised that the high density photonic link had been established. Which
was ridiculous. Shed been waiting to apply a chemical spray that would
have eased the plugs into place. It had been invented by her division to
clean up optical contacts that had been exposed to the vacuum, dust, and
general degradation of the Ruin Ring; they used a lot of it on the scant
remnants of Laymil electronics they acquired.

She put the spray canister down and picked up a micro scanner. I can
accept that their electronics are in a much better condition than the
Laymil modules we have, she datavised. The environment here is so much
more benign, and they havent been abandoned as long. But this lucky is
absolutely impossible. The blocks finished assembling an iconographic
display of the terminals architecture. The entire terminal is on-line,
there isnt a single element not functioning. The Kiint didnt just
access this, they repaired the damn thing to full operational status.
Some of these components are brand new, for heavens sake.

How much of it is new?

According to my scanner, its just processors and some support
circuitry. The memory crystals are original. Which makes sense. They want
the data stored inside them, just like us.

Can you get it?

No problem. They already knew the Tyrathca program language, and there
was certainly no such thing as security protocols or codes to guard
against unauthorised access. Before leaving Tranquillity, the divisions
software experts had written customised questors that could examine all
the information contained within Tyrathca memory crystals. Oski datavised
the first batch of pre-formatted programs into the terminus architecture.
Some of them were hunting for distinct references, while the others were
classifying the information according to file type. The pair of them
accessed the questor results as they returned.

Well, it would have been too much to expect a direct reference to the
Sleeping God, Renato datavised.

No mention of an unusual cosmological event, either, Oski observed. She
studied the file index, seeing what kind of database theyd activated,
and shaping the next batch of questors accordingly. We have plenty of
navigational fixes.

Im going to see if the questors can find a list of star fixes they used
to align their communication laser during the flight. At least thatll
give us an idea of their contact protocol with the other arkships.

Good idea. Ill see if any other arkship flight paths are stored in
here. That should tell us what kind of spatial volume were dealing with.

The questors revealed several tens of thousands of star fixes performed
to align the interstellar communication laser. Eighty-five per cent of
them were performed during the first six thousand years of the flight,
after that the number of communiqus transmitted and received by the
arkship dropped off considerably. During the latter stages of the flight,
the star fixes were performed almost exclusively to align the laser on
the five colony planets which Tanjuntic-RI had established.

With the fixes established, Oski began to search for associated files.
The messages arent stored in here, she datavised eventually. I keep
getting a link code with all the laser alignment files. But its to a
different system altogether.

Do you know where it is? Renato asked.

Not yet. She composed a new batch of questors, and sent them probing
through the terminals basic management routines. How are you doing?

Unpleasantly successful. The Tyrathca built over a thousand arkships.

Good god.

Yeah, quite. If they all travelled as far as this one, that gives us a
phenomenal area to search through for their Sleeping God. Were talking
about a percentage of the entire galaxy. Small, admittedly. But
everything is relative. Parker and Kempster will love this.

The questors started to display their answers to Oski. Ah, here we go.
The files we want are stored in some kind of principal archive. Ive got
the identification code.

But it could be anywhere. We cant access anything from here.

Yes. Come on. We want the office which dealt with the arkships general
systems. Well see if we can activate one of the terminals in there, and
call up a general schematic.



The maser beam caught the diversion serjeant on its thigh as it was
crossing one of the hemispherical chambers. Iones response was
automatic, a fast powered dive behind a huge clump of machinery. The beam
cut off as she fell behind it. Her armours electronic warfare block had
pinpointed the origin. The Tyrathca was shooting from just inside one of
the corridors.

She loaded the coordinate into her weapons hardware. A homing grenade
shot out of her belt dispenser, curving over the top of the sheltering
machinery. An EE explosion obliterated the corridor entrance. Another
maser slashed across the serjeants armour. Ione rolled quickly, swinging
the launcher round. A second homing grenade eliminated the corridor the
Tyrathca soldier was charging out of.

<< Theyre moving bloody fast, >>she told her other selves and Samuel. <<
It was a good pincer manoeuvre. >>She used the suits sensors to scan
down the corridor ahead. No motion or anomalous infrared source was
detectable.

<< You cant go back, >>the serjeant with Monica and Samuel down in ring
five told her. << You know theyre behind you. >>

<< Yes. >>She unclipped a magazine from her belt and slotted it into her
multi-barrelled launcher as she walked over to the one remaining corridor
entrance. Three slender missiles were fired at two second intervals,
streaking away down the lightless tunnel. The serjeant flattened itself
against the wall.

Each of the three missiles was tipped with a neutron pulse warhead. They
detonated simultaneously, soaking a five hundred metre length of the
corridor with a lethal cascade of radiation. If there had been any
Tyrathca lurking down there, the neutron bombardment would have killed
them almost instantaneously. Holding the fat missile launcher in one
hand, and an X-ray laser in the other, the diversion serjeant started to
creep down the radioactive corridor.



Oski, progress report, please, Monica datavised. A sensor disk showed
her the Tyrathca massing at the top of the spiral ramp which led down to
ring five. Were getting a little critical out here.

Im in the general systems layout. Should have the archive location any
second now. This is another terminal the Kiint have refurbished. That
must mean were on the right track.

Oski, Samuel datavised. Please store as much of the layout as
possible. It might help us to get out of here.

To get out? Monica queried.

Yes. I have an idea.

Id love to hear it.

One moment. << Syrinx? >>

<< Yes Samuel. Are you making progress? >>

<< Not as much as Id like, but yes. Oski will start to datavise the
information we have acquired so far to you and the Lady Macbeth in case
we do not get out. >>

<< Theres still only one Tyrathca ship at Tanjuntic-RI. Theyll be no
match for Oenone. As long as you can get back up to whats left of the
spaceport support column, youll be fine. >>

<< That may prove difficult. The Tyrathca soldier-caste are very capable,
as the serjeants are discovering. And they know where we have to return
to. An ambush would be easy for them. >>

<< What do you propose? >>

<< Monica and I were both present when Dr Mzu escaped from Tranquillity.
>>

<< Now wait a minute >>Syrinx protested.

<< I could do that, >>Oenone said. << If the Udat can, I can. >>There was
considerable eagerness in the voidhawks mental tone.

<< No, >>Syrinx said, instinctively protective. << Tanjuntic-RI is a hell
of a lot smaller than Tranquillity. Youd never fit into one of the
rings. >>

<< But I would fit into the level-one chambers. >>

<< That was what I was going to suggest, >>Samuel said. << We ought to be
able to reach one of them. And I doubt the hellhawk could swallow in to
harass you. Whereas if you came back here to fight your way past the
Tyrathca ship, it could certainly complicate the situation for you. >>

<< I can do it, >>Oenone insisted.

<< Are you sure? This isnt just bravado, is it? >>

<< You know I can. And we would honour Udats memory by doing so. >>

<< All right. >>Syrinx couldnt hide the pride and simmering excitement
in her mind. << Samuel, well attempt to pick you out from one of the
axial chambers. >>

<< Thank you, >>Samuel said emphatically.



Oski and Renato were almost running as they emerged from the control
office airlock. Their suit programs were having to limit the augmentation
to stop them from hitting their heads on the airlock chamber ceiling.
Ive found the archive. Renato datavised the layout file over to
Monica, Samuel, and the serjeants. Its on the other side of the ring, a
kilometre away.

Move out, Monica datavised. Her guidance block was analysing the new
data, incorporating it into existing files.

According to this file, theres a ramp up to the second level just past
the archive, Samuel datavised. Ill blow the airlock hatch, and well
evacuate through there as soon as youve got the information.

Sounds good, Renato datavised.

The five of them were skating along the lightless streets in long low
bounds, utterly reliant on their guidance programs. Nothing changed
around them. At every turn, the wintered towers were the same ahead and
behind, their infrared signatures identical.

The Tyrathca are on their way down the ramp to this ring, datavised the
serjeant who was guarding the entrance. Ive rigged the airlock. Do you
want me to blow it?

No, Monica datavised. Wait until theyre all inside the ring, then
blow it.

You want to trap them in here? Renato datavised. With us?

Good tactics, Samuel confirmed. If we block them now, we wont know
where they are, nor how they gain entry. But once theyre in, they cant
get out easily, and we can monitor them via the sensor disks. It gives us
the strategic high ground.



A glimmer of infrared started to shine down the corridor ahead of the
diversion serjeant, like an autumnal dawn. Ione stopped and slapped a
magazine of smart-seeker missiles in the launcher, datavising the
Tyrathca profile into their processors. Suit sensors showed a similar
infrared glow expanding behind her.

<< Surrounded, >>she informed her other selves. << Be warned. They really
are making good use of their knowledge. >>

A couple of neutron pulse tipped missiles were fired at the group behind
her. She dropped a grenade, and started to run forwards. Smart-seeker
missiles sliced out of the big launcher ahead of her. The neutron pulses
went off. She triggered the grenade, bringing down the corridor roof.
Small EE detonations were flaring up ahead as the missiles punctured the
Tyrathca spacesuit fabric, burying themselves deep in the xenoc bodies
before detonating.

Infrared vision was wiped out in splashes of brilliant crimson. Still
firing missiles. Something like a medium-sized cannonball hit her right
leg. Exploding. She was flung violently against the ceiling, bouncing
down against the floor. Internal bones snapped. Cracks multiplied across
her exoskeleton. But the armour held, reinforced by the molecular binding
generators.

The diversion serjeant raised its head, dislodging various rocks which
were lodged on its helmet. It moved its arms, actuators pushing hard
against the weight of rocks holding its torso down. More rocks slithered
off the armour. Two soldier-caste Tyrathca were bounding towards it. Ione
waited until they were fifteen metres away, and fired a couple of homing
grenades.



The sensor disk by the spiral ramp up in level one noted a rise in the
thermal environment beyond its pre-set parameters, and broadcast an
alert. Visual observation showed twenty new Tyrathca marching into the
interior.



Oh God, Monica datavised. Just what we need.

It will take them forty minutes to reach ring five, Samuel datavised.
If Oski hasnt retrieved what we need by then I doubt it will matter.

They were fifty metres short of the ring wall, passing the last of the
towers. Five sets of suit lights slithered erratically over the wall,
kindling small refractive auras from the curtain of frosted creeper
leaves.

There, Renato datavised. Rather uselessly, he raised an arm and
pointed. But the others saw where his suit lights had come to rest, and
focused their own beams on the spot. The airlock door to the archive was
very similar to those of the control offices. And like them, open.

Its recent, Oski datavised. Several faint infrared footprints, very
similar to those at the control offices.

Monica, you go in with them, Samuel datavised. Ill set the charges
ready to open that ramp for us.

Monica drew an X-ray laser rifle from her belt, and switched her homing
grenades to active mode. Feeling slightly more confident, she stepped
through the open airlock. Oski and Renato had been issued with the same
weapons suite as she, but not even full field combat programs could turn
a pair of academics into decent troops. She didnt have surprise on her
side. Instead she went for speed, flashing through the final doorway with
sensor gain on maximum. Radar and infrared covered the whole interior of
the archive chamber in milliseconds. The results filtered through her
tactical location program, which declared there was nothing active inside.

You can come in, she datavised.

The archive was substantially different to the control offices. A lot
larger, a long hall tunnelled out of naked rock, with an arching ceiling
thirty metres high. Despite having Tyrathca-sized computer terminals and
display cases, it was the most human place theyd seen in Tanjuntic-RI.

Principally, Monica decided, because it was instantly recognisable: a
museum. Five-metre glass cube display cabinets were standing in
regimented rows the whole length of the hall. The glass was fogged by
grime and ice. When they shone their suit beams on the cabinets, the
contents were visible only as intriguing dark shadows. From what they
could discern, it was machinery inside; the outlines had too many flat
sides and regular angles to be anything biological.

Each line of cubes was divided into sections by broad areas given over to
computer terminals clustered round a central hexagonal pedestal of giant
display screens. Oski walked over to the nearest one. These zones must
be the archives operating stations, she datavised. Her light beams
fanned up and down the casings, then settled on the screens. Theres a
plaque here. Neural nanonics put her Tyrathca translation program into
primary mode. Atmospheric engineering, she read out. They must cover
different disciplines at each station. Try and find anything relating to
navigation or communications.

Can you see if the Kiint repaired any of the terminals? Renato asked.
That would save a minute or two.

Nothing like that showing yet, Monica datavised.

Renato walked along a row of the big cubes, annoyed they were all so
opaque. The first station of terminals was mineral distillation, followed
by thermal maintenance, then distillation mining. On impulse he wiped a
gauntlet against the ice on one cube, upping the brightness on his suit
lights. It was a chunk of machinery inside. These gizmos look like
theyre brand new, he datavised. Im not sure this is a museum. Could
be they archived actual physical components, the ultimate template
back-up in case something screwed up their electronics.

Any kind of disaster big enough to eradicate their crystal memories
would wreck these machines first, Oski datavised. Besides, think how
many different components there are to make Tanjuntic-RI work. A hell of
a lot more than we can see in here.

Okay, so its just the really critical ones.

I think Ive found it, Monica datavised. This terminal has been
spruced up, and its still a couple of degrees warmer than the rest.

Oski scanned her suit sensors round to locate the ESA operative. Whats
the station?

Planetary habitation.

That doesnt sound quite right. She hurried over to where Monica was
standing, suit lights converging on one of the terminals.

The Tyrathca are now in ring five, the serjeant guarding the ramp
entrance datavised. I am blowing the airlock behind them.

Despite her high suit sensor resolution, Monica could receive no
indication of the explosion. Oski, we really dont have any more time to
hunt round, she datavised. Just get what you can from this terminal,
and pray the Kiint knew what they were doing.

Confirmed. The electronics specialist knelt down beside the terminal,
and started working on the front panel.



Ione was tracking the Tyrathca through multiple observation points as
they spread out through the streets of ring five. As soon as the airlock
detonated and collapsed behind them, trapping the last two in the rubble,
they had deployed in a wide sweep formation. The sensor disks were
picking up microwave radar pulses from several of the soldiers. Their
emissions helped to target the first batch of homing grenades which she
launched, eliminating a further three. Then they wised up to that and
switched the radars off. She launched a swarm of smart seeker missiles,
programming them to flit above the tops of the towers. Arrowing down as
soon as they located a suit.

The launch betrayed her general direction. Ultimately, another plus
point. She was on the other side of the airlock from the control offices
and archive, drawing them away from the exploration team.

One of the sensor disks showed a soldier raise a rifle the size of a
small human cannon. Ione started running, not caring about the lack of
cover. A tower disintegrated behind her; the blast strong enough to
create a rumble in the rings near-non-existent atmosphere. Big nodules
of debris crashed into neighbouring towers, shattering the brittle
concrete. Three of them toppled over, throwing up thick clouds of black
dust which surged along the streets in every direction, blocking vision
in all spectrums.



Monica followed what she could of the fight via the sensor disks. Nervous
energy created a nasty itch along her spine and ribs. It was impossible
to scratch through the suit. Even twisting round inside the armour was
useless. There was nothing she could do to assist Oski and Renato. The
pair of them had exposed the terminals electronics, and were busy
attaching their own blocks to the primitive components inside. Their
fluid motions were bringing effective results. Little lights were
flashing around the rosette keyboard, and the monitor screen was
producing a snowstorm of green and scarlet graphics.

She started walking round the outlying display cubes, alert for any other
signs of Kiint activity. It was the one contribution she could still
make. Not that it would be a lot of use at this point. It wasnt until
after shed started on her second circuit of the planetary habitation
station that her subconscious alarm grew strong enough to make her stop
and take a proper look at what she was seeing. The shapes inside the
opaque cubes were no longer nice and regular.

With real unease replacing her anxiety now, Monica swiped her gauntlet
over the crinkled, sparkling ice, rubbing a patch clear. Her suit lights
brightened, converging on the cube. Visual sensors altered their focus.
Monica took a half step back, breath catching in her throat. Her medical
monitor program warned her of a sudden fast heart rhythm. Samuel? she
datavised.

What is it?

Theyve got xenocs in here. Xenocs Ive never seen before. She scanned
her sensors across the creature inside the cube, building up a pixel file
image for the Edenist. It was bipedal, shorter than a human, with four
symmetrically arranged arms emerging from mid-torso. No elbow or knee
joints were apparent, the limbs moved as a single unit. Bulbous
shoulder/hip joints hinted at a considerable articulation. All four arms
ended in stumpy hands with four claw-fingers; while the legs finished in
rounded pads. The head was a fat cone, with deep folds of skin ringing a
thick neck, which would permit a great deal of rotation. There was a
vertical gash, which could be either a nose or mouth, and deep sockets
that could have held eyes.

My God, Samuel, its sentient. Its wearing things, look. She focused
on an arm, where a silver bracelet was wrapped around the wizened caramel
skin. That could be a watch, I think. Its certainly technological. They
caught a sentient xenoc and stuffed the poor bastard for their kids to
look at in this freak show. Oh for Christs sake, what are we dealing
with here?

Youre jumping to some very wild assumptions, Monica.

Then you explain what the fucking hell its doing in here. Im telling
you, they put it on show. It must have come from one of the planets they
stopped at.

Youre in an archive, not a circus zoo.

Is that supposed to make me happy? So this is scientific not
entertainment. What were they doing studying it? Its sentient. Its not
a laboratory creature.

Monica, I know its shocking, but it isnt relevant to our current
situation. Im sorry, but youll just have to ignore it for the moment.

Jesus fucking wept. She spun round, and marched back towards the
terminal where Oski and Renato were working. Heat and anger kept her
going for several paces. Then she stopped and scanned the cube again. Her
suit lights refracted off the gritty ice with its dark adumbrate core of
sorrow and suffering.

When theyd come on board, shed wondered about Tyrathca souls watching
them. Now all she could think about was the soul of the unknown xenoc;
lost and alone, crying out desperately for others of its kind. Could it
see her now? Was it shouting its pleas for salvation from some obscure
corner of the dreadful beyond? Unheard even by its own deities?

The medical monitor warned Monica she wasnt breathing properly. She made
an effort to inhale in a regular motion. Oski? How are you doing?

Im not sure. There are some files in here that look like communiqus.
Ive just reverted to our fall-back option. Were copying every memory to
analyse later.

How long?

Programming is almost complete. Itll take half an hour to datavise all
their files over to our processors.

We cant afford that.

I know. The bitek processors can shunt the information directly over to
Oenone and Lady Mac in real time. We just have to hope the Tyrathca dont
come in here and find out what were doing until its finished.

Thats a safe enough bet. I expect theyll be too busy chasing us.



<< How the hell did they get up there? >>Ione asked.

At least three Tyrathca soldiers were cantering along ring fives ceiling
gantries. The narrow metal walkways threaded amongst the crane rails and
irrigation pipes were shaking alarmingly as the heavy bodies thundered
down them. But they were holding. And they provided the Tyrathca with a
dangerously effective vantage point.

There were now six separate smears of billowing dust blotting out entire
sections of the ring, evidence of shattered towers caught in the
increasingly brutal crossfire. Tyrathca bodies lay everywhere, bleeding
fluid and heat onto the cold alloy floor. One of the two remaining
serjeants was limping badly, its suit leg crushed almost flat around the
knee. Caught by a huge chunk of debris whose inertia defeated the binding
generators. Several processors and hardware units on its belt were dead,
ruined by maser fire.

Worse, from a tactical viewpoint, only one Tyrathca was currently
stalking it. The remainder had moved away from the mayhem itd unleashed
to chase down the remaining heat trails. Four of them, including one
breeder, were congregating round the open airlock into the control
offices.

They know we went in there now, Samuel datavised.

The ones on the gantries will be looking for us, Ione datavised. And
theyll see us soon enough.

Weve finished programming the file extraction, Oski said. The data is
being received by the starships.

Excellent. Get out of the archive, Im about to blow the airlock. Ione,
can you take out the soldiers on the gantries?

Ill try.

At this point, youre not expendable to us, okay? Were going to need
back-up to get out of here.

Understood. But only one of me will be able to keep up with you on the
ramp.

The injured serjeant raised its missile launcher, and fired the two
remaining smart seeker missiles. They soared off into the gloom, twin
spikes of intense amber light, seemingly rising out of sight around the
rings curvature. It began to limp into the seething dust, heading back
towards the archive. Searching round on its belt, Ione found a magazine
containing neutron pulse missiles. Only four of the twelve responded to a
datavise. She slipped the magazine into the launcher anyway.

When the others made it to the shelter of the ramp, she could then make
life seriously unpleasant for the Tyrathca left in ring five.



Samuel and the last serjeant were waiting for Monica, Oski, and Renato
right outside the archive. Monicas thoughts were still in such turmoil
after finding the xenoc that she didnt trust herself to say anything to
him.

Theres still one soldier-caste left up on the gantry, Samuel
datavised. Not that it matters much now. He triggered the charges hed
laid around the airlock.

They were close enough to see the flash: a dazzling ripple of pure white
light that burst across the ring, fading fast.

Samuel started running straight at it. They only had a hundred and fifty
metres to go. He datavised instructions to the others, who activated
their rocket launchers. A semicircle of towers fell in unison as the
missiles pulverised their ground floors. Dust strangled the thin plumes
of potent flame, sending out a curtain of impenetrable darkness that
fountained straight upwards.

The airlock leading to the ramp had been wrenched to one side by the
charges Samuel had laid around its rim, buckling the thick slab of
titanium like so much plastic sheeting. A tide of rock had spewed out of
the gap, narrowing it still further. His boots dislodged small loose
fragments as he scrambled up. There was enough space to pass through,
providing he turned sideways. As soon as he was on the other side, he
started slapping EE charges on the walls. Monica and the others wriggled
through the gap, with the serjeant bringing up the rear.



Eighteen combat wasps were closing on Lady Mac, the third time in an hour
Hesperi-LNs defences had launched such a salvo at them. Each time, Lady
Mac had simply jumped away before any of them were in range, leaving the
drones to search round helplessly for their target.

Good job the Tyrathca never met anything hostile when they were on their
voyage here, Joshua remarked. I mean, Jesus, they are absolutely crap
at space warfare. Why do they keep firing salvos when were far enough
above the planet to jump?

Theyre lulling us into complacency, Ashly said cheerfully. Theyve
worked out roughly where weve got to emerge next time, and theyve flown
their superweapon there ready to zap us.

Nope. Keeping the jump emergence coordinate as a random variable is
file-one in the combat manual.

They wouldnt have a superweapon anyway, Liol said. Building stuff
like that takes inventive flair. And they just aint got it.

They do seem to be very dogmatic, Dahybi said. As they havent got a
combat capable starship to field against us, their options are limited.

Limited, yes, Joshua agreed. But not to one. He studied the tactical
display. The nearest combat wasp would be close enough to start deploying
submunitions in another two minutes. Stand by for jump. Sarha, hows the
memory dump coming on?

No problems, Joshua. The bitek array is accepting the load.

Great, lets hope theres something useful in there. He cut the fusion
drives, holding the starship stable with ion thrusters. The flight
computer showed him the energy patterning node status as the combat
sensors retracted. Here we go. They emerged forty thousand kilometres
from the combat wasp swarm. Hesperi-LNs SD network took nearly three
minutes to acquire lock on.

Are you launching another combat wasp? Liol asked.

Not yet, Joshua said. He datavised the bitek array for a link to the
exploration team. Where are you?

Coming up to level two, Monica replied. The ramp is sealed behind us,
so if we dont get ambushed, well be at level one in another twelve
minutes.

Okay, thanks, Monica. Syrinx, wed better start finalizing our next
move.

Agreed. We must assume the blackhawk will try and follow us again.

I can throw it off with multiple consecutive jumps. Can you do something
similar?

No problem. Designate a rendezvous coordinate.

Thats trickier. This bloody diversionary battle has screwed around with
our vector. I can get a rough alignment on the second planet with a small
burn. Well slingshot around it, and re-align on the Orion nebula. After
that, we can lose the hellhawk.

Very well. Oenone will swallow out to the second planet as soon as weve
picked the team up. See you there.



The second level cavern housed a gigantic fusion generator, three pale
metal spheres standing one on top of the other, eighty metres high.
Arching buttresses of pipes and cables were wrapped around the main
section like mechanized viaducts, sinking away into the walls and floor.
A quintet of heat exchangers surrounded it. Fluids had leaked from their
valves and feed tube junctions, dribbling down the casings to solidify in
colourful multi-layered ribbons. The caverns irradiated rock kicked off
datavised Geiger warnings as soon as the exploration team bounded in from
one of the corridors.

This is it, Samuel datavised. Our shortcut.

It will be very short with this radiation level if were not careful,
Monica datavised. This is as bad as a fission core meltdown. What kind
of fuel did they use?

Heaven only knows. Samuel scanned his sensors across the pipes that
disappeared into the curving apex overhead. Any of those three. His
suits tactical program datavised the designation icon to the others,
highlighting the pipe hed chosen. According to the file Oski pulled
from the control offices its a thermal gas duct. The exchangers
transferred some of their heat along it to keep the level-one lakes warm.
Its an express route straight there. All we have to do is slice it open.

Monica didnt argue with him, despite the sudden doubts. Shed stayed
with Oski and Renato in the archive, leaving details of their withdrawal
to Samuel. That was teamwork. And it was as though hed been her partner
forever. They knew they could rely on each other now. She took the stumpy
laser rifle from her belt, datavised its control processor for a
continual burn, and lined it up on the pipe hed designated.

Five ruby red beams stabbed out, puncturing the pipe. Bright molten metal
droplets drizzled down slowly, losing their radiance before they reached
the ground. Monicas radar caught the movement just before the maser beam
hit her suit. A couple of homing grenades fired immediately from her
dispenser, looping through the three dimensional maze of pipes to smash
the corridor entrance where the Tyrathca soldier was lurking.

Backwash from the EE blast rolled her across the ground to clang against
the base of a heat exchanger. Her infrared sensor caught a blur of motion
away on the other side of the chamber. Radar was useless, there was too
much machinery in the way.

Theyre in, she warned.

Oski, Renato, finish cutting the pipe open, Samuel ordered. Well take
care of them.

One of the Tyrathca cannon fired, blowing a hole in the side of the
fusion generator. Monica grabbed her missile launcher, and fired off a
pair of smart seekers. Samuel was kangaroo jumping up the side of a heat
exchanger. Homing grenades spat out of his dispenser, zipping away to
pummel the corridor entrances. Maser beams slashed at him. Monicas
sensors triangulated their origin, and she launched more smart seekers in
retaliation. Explosions ripped round the chamber as the corridor
entrances were closed.

Pipes open, Oski datavised.

Go straight in, Samuel datavised. Well cover you.

Monica dived under a buttress, scanning at ground level. The lower
section of four hot Tyrathca spacesuit legs was visible ahead of her,
below a coil-wound beam. She chopped them with the laser, slashing
straight through the fabric. Large globs of weird purple gel burped out,
oscillating wildly as they bounced off the floor and machinery. The
Tyrathca stumbled and fell. Monica slid the laser along its flank. A
tidal wave of gel blobs erupted. Then the body went into explosive
decompression.

Oskis manoeuvring pack fired at full power, lifting her towards the apex
of the cavern. Every suppresser program she had that could squash down on
her fear was in primary mode. They must have worked, she was quietly
delighted at how calmly she was reacting to being shot at. Guidance
programs bent her flight around the clutter of arching pipes as she rose
higher and higher. She actually passed a two metre section of the pipe on
her way up, its edges still glowing pink as it tumbled end over end.

A maser beam struck her legs. The suits tactical program shot a homing
grenade down in response. Then she was concentrating solely on her
flight, arrowing for the gaping hole theyd sliced in the pipe. Its rim
flashed past her, catching her shoulder, and scraping along her arms.
Then she was completely inside. Radar was the only sense which functioned
in here, showing a rigid, featureless tube stretching out above her for
nearly three hundred metres. Her manoeuvring pack thrusters throttled
down, slowing her to a less reckless speed as the gravity dropped off. A
second armour suit slid into the pipe below her.

Hell of an escape route, Renato datavised.



Etchells had no warning that the Oenone was going to swallow away from
the twin moons. The crew were still boring him crazy with their promises
and propaganda when it happened. But he felt it go, a massive tear in the
uniformity of his distortion field.

<< What are you doing? >>he asked. The Tyrathca ships were still hours
away.

<< Were leaving now, >>Ruben said. << Why dont you go home? Think about
what weve been saying. >>

There was a momentary lapse in the affinity contact. Etchells observed
the amount of energy Oenone applied to open the wormhole interstice,
determining the terminus location. They had returned to that damn arkship!

<< Why are you here? >>he demanded. << Whats so special about that ship?
>>

<< If you join our efforts to solve this crisis, then such questions will
be answered for you, >>Syrinx said.

<< Fuck your psychobabble bullshit. >>He sent the energy flashing through
his patterning cells, uncomfortably aware of how much he had expended in
warding off impacts from the Lagrange point particles. A wormhole opened,
and he dived down it, emerging into real space again, barely twenty
kilometres from the arkship.

The Oenone was probing the ancient vessel very thoroughly with its
distortion field (an act which Etchells didnt understand). And the large
Tyrathca ship was firing its secondary drive, moving up from its holding
position at the front of Tanjuntic-RI. Etchells didnt really want to go
into combat against the xenocs at this point, especially not with
uncertain allies like the Edenists.

Oenone was performing another swallow manoeuvre.

<< You cant elude me, >>Etchells said.

<< Fine, >>Syrinx replied with icy superiority. << Follow us in, then. >>

Etchells derived the voidhawks wormhole terminus. Which was impossible.
They were swallowing inside the arkship. There were cavities in there, he
could feel them. Tenuous bubbles within the hard rock. So very small.

He didnt dare. That kind of accuracy was staggering.

The Tyrathca ship had risen above the arkships horizon. It launched
fifteen combat wasps straight at him. He swallowed away fast.



The level-one cavern was quickly and silently saturated with light,
revealing the cyclorama of frozen water. Ripples and waves were caught in
mid-swell, drained of colour as they had been of heat. The endocarps were
different. Flat cliffs of rock, rimmed with ledges of metal just above
the ice. One of them boasted a tiny pinprick of warmth. Five
armour-suited figures hovered in front of it, watching the light source
expand; twisted fragments of starlight threaded through the length of the
wormhole to spray out at random. There was no other indication of the
terminus opening.

As the light dimmed it shone across Oenones marbled blue hull, glinting
off the crew toroid. The huge voidhawk swept round the lakes curvature
towards the exploration team, skirting the rickety old axial gantry with
simple grace.

<< Youve no idea how good it is to see you, >>Samuel said, accompanying
the statement with a wash of gratitude and relief.

<< You too, >>Oenone replied. << I knew I could do this. >>



Etchells conceded defeat. He wasnt going to find out why the two
starships had come here, not now. Oenone was inside the arkship for less
than five minutes before swallowing away again. Its wormhole terminus
opened out above the star systems second planet. The Adamist ship jumped
there as well.

Etchells joined them, at a non-threatening distance, observing the
Adamist ship fly round the planet on a tight slingshot trajectory. When
it jumped, Etchells tried to follow. But it must have used multiple
consecutive jumps, because he couldnt find it anywhere near the
emergence coordinate. With his energy patterning cells badly depleted,
and his nutrient reserve getting low, he began the long, lonely trip back
to New California. It was time to hand the whole problem over to Kiera
and Capone.


Chapter 14
==========


Candles shaped like dark lily pads bobbed about over the bath water,
never managing to touch the two bodies resting in the middle. Several of
them had become mired in the burgs of apple-scented bubbles, their wicks
sizzling as the flames struggled to stay alight. More candles were
flickering gamely along the baths marbled rim, half a metre tall; they
were cemented into place by thick rivulets of wax. As the only source of
light in the suites dilapidated bathroom, their weak yellow flickers
bestowed an appropriately dingy appearance.

For years the Chatsworth had been one of central Edmontons most renowned
five-star hotels, attracting the wealthy and the famous. But successive
changes of management and ownership had seen it decay badly over the last
two decades as too much of its cash flow had been diverted from
maintaining standards to inflating shareholder dividends. Eventually it
was trading solely on its name, and that could never last. Now it was
closed for a much needed refurbishment and re-launch. But the work crews
and their mechanoids hadnt even started stripping the old fittings out
when New Yorks problems with the possessed hit the AV news. After that,
most of Earths long-term commercial investment projects were put on hold
while the financiers and entrepreneurs waited to see what the outcome
would be. The Chatsworth included.

Quinn had taken it over with quiet efficiency to use as his home base in
the arcology. The three-man caretaker team left inside were possessed,
and every last connection to the outside world was severed: power, water,
data, air conditioning. He knew that police and government security
forces tracked the possessed by the glitches they caused, but they could
only do that when there was working processor-governed machinery nearby.
So he and his loyal followers made do with the water left in the hotel
tanks, cooked on camping gear in one of the ritzy function rooms, and
used candles. Bath water was heated purely by energistic power. The soaps
and oils were stolen from a local mall. Along with booze.

Quinn reached for the bottle of Norfolk Tears chilling in an ice bucket
among the candles, and poured the pale liquid over Courtneys glistening
breasts. She giggled as her nipples hardened from the cold, and arched
herself further out of the water. There were bruises and teeth marks on
her gold-tanned skin, evidence of Quinns recent predilections. She
didnt mind the kind of sex he wanted; it was kind of interesting, the
physical things he could do with his new black magic. That kind of
misused power really turned her on, further proof of his omnipotence. He
didnt have to worry about censure, or being caught. He wrote the rules
now. And there was never much pain, nor did it last long. He didnt have
to hurt her to confirm their relationship; he knew she had submitted
herself completely to him and the cause. Joyfully, too. By embracing the
serpent beast in its dark lair, Courtneys life had changed, becoming so
much better. Hotter. Brighter. She got all the stuff like clothes and AV
fleks she wanted now; and she didnt have to take shit from anyone
anymore, either. Not bad going for a sect whore.

Quinn threw away the bottle, and started to lick the luxurious drink off
her skin. This is the fucking max, he said. You know, it really is
true; the bad guys get the best of everything. Best clothes. Best drugs.
Best babes. Best parties. Best sex. Its fucking great.

Were the bad guys? Courtney asked, puzzled. I thought we were doing
the right thing smashing up the world?

Quinn stood up, sending the floating candles surfing into the bubbles.
His erection grew to a thick flesh sword hanging over Courtneys upturned
face. Were both; were bad and were right. Believe it.

Her confusion vanished, and she was smiling with simple contentment
again. I believe in you. She cupped his balls, squeezing like hed
taught, and started to lick the length of his dick.

After Ive finished fucking you, Im going to go over and kill another
one of Banneths people, Quinn said. This time, Im going to do it
right in front of her. Force her to see how impotent she is.

I dont get it. Courtney sat back, glancing up inquiringly. Why dont
you just march in there and start torturing her? Its not like she can
stop you, or anything.

Because this is exactly what she did to me. To us. All of us. She
frightens people. Its her bang. What she can do to you up in that
sanctum of hers is so fucking freaky and scary it hammers into your brain
like some monster prick. All you can think of is how to stop her doing
anything bad to you. Everybody in the coven knows theyre gonna be
strapped down on one of her tables some day. All you can do is ask Gods
Brother that when its your turn, she does something that boosts you.
Nothing you can do about the pain. Thats fucking standard issue with
Banneth.

I see what youre doing, Courtney said, pleased with herself. Youre
stalking her.

Thats a part of it, yeah. Each time I go over there and kill one of her
people, it ruins a little more of what she is. The Banneth they all fear
is growing smaller and smaller every day. Even dickheads that dumb are
going to realize that the one person who can defeat anything is utterly
helpless against the coming Night. I want her sitting there while the
entire headquarters coven freaks out and deserts her. Im going to make
that he-bitch feel what we all did. That shes a total nothing; all that
power shes spent fuck-knows how many decades building up isnt worth
shit any more. She used to make people piss themselves just by being
sarcastic. Sarcastic, for shits sake! Can you believe that? But thats
how strong she was. Well now shes going to know what Ill do to her, and
shes going to know theres no way out when I come for her. That puts me
in control, and me on top. It switches her whole life around; screws with
the way her brains wired. I love that almost as much as I love the pain
Im going to inflict.

Courtney rubbed her cheek along his dick, eyes closed in dreamy
admiration. I want to watch.

You can. He beckoned. She was taken up against the wall, hands pinned
above her head. A loutish violation of hard thrusts, energistically
strengthened muscles overcoming any hindrance to pummel his body against
hers. In his mind he let it be Banneth, enhancing the pleasure.

Halfway through, when Quinns orgasm was building, Billy-Joe knocked
tentatively on the door. Get in here, you little shit, Quinn yelled.
Wait. Watch us.

Billy-Joe did as he was told. Standing well out of the way. Keeping
still, but with inflamed eyes following every aspect of Courtneys
contortions. Quinn finished with her, and let go. She sank to the floor,
propped up clumsily against the wall, shivering heavily. Her hands
stroked gingerly over her body, touching the fresh bruises.

What do you want? Quinn asked.

Its one of the possessed come to see you, Billy-Joe said. Hes one of
the new ones. Come from the Lacombe sect. Says hes got to see you. Its
like real urgent, he says.

Shit. Quinns skin dried; his robe materialized around him. Hey! You
want any of those healed up?

Its all right, Quinn, Courtney said thickly. Ive got some cream and
stuff to rub on. Im fine.



This better be fucking important, Quinn said. I told you dickheads not
to move around the arcology. The police are going to be watching for you.

I was careful, the possessed man said. His name was Duffy. Hed taken
over the Lacombe covens magus. Unlike the magus, Quinn judged him devout
enough to Gods Brother. Duffy had been left in charge of the coven,
organizing several successful strikes against Edmontons infrastructure.

Quinn sat down in one of the lounges fraying leather armchairs, and let
his mind wander through the Chatsworth and its neighbouring buildings.
They were only a couple of blocks away from Banneths headquarters, a
location perfect in every respect.

There were no suspicious minds anywhere near. If Duffy had been spotted
and followed, then the police were keeping well back. Quinn resisted the
impulse to go over to the window and pull back one of the tatty curtains
to peer down onto the street. Okay, you havent completely fucked up.
What is it?

This magus, Vientus, I been squeezing him. He aint a magus, not a real
one. Doesnt believe in Gods Brother.

Big deal. None of those shits ever did, not really.

Duffy played with his hands, wretchedly nervous. Nobody liked the idea of
telling Quinn what to dolike shut up and listenbut this was vital.

All right, Quinn grunted. Go on.

Hes some kind of secret police informer. Has been for years. Every
night he makes a report to some kind of supervisor about what the covens
been doing and whats going down on the street.

Thats impossible, Quinn said automatically. If the police had that
kind of information they would have raided the coven.

I dont think the supervisors that kind of police, Quinn. Not like you
get in the local precinct house. Vientus never met them, he just
datavised the information to some eddress each night. There was other
stuff going on, too. Vientus sometimes got told to target people for this
supervisor, local business people, buildings that needed to be
firebombed. And theyd talk about what other gangs were doing, and if
they needed to be chopped back. Real detailed shit like that. It was
almost like the supervisor was running the coven, not Vientus.

Anything else? Quinn was listening, but not really paying attention. He
was too involved thinking through the implication, and with that came a
growing sense of alarm.

This supervisor must have had some influence with the cops. Quite a bit,
I guess. There were times when Vientus got useful sect members released
from custody. All he had to do was ask the supervisor for them, and the
cops would let them go. Easy bail, or community work sentence, some shit
like that.

Yeah, Quinn said quietly. That recollection was one of the most bitter
he owned. Waiting in Edmontons Justice Hall for days with the dwindling
prospect that Banneth would get him released. Banneth could make the
whole legal system do tricks for her, like every judge owed her a favour.
Murder suspects out on parole within an hour. Stim suppliers given house
arrest sentences.

Er. Duffy was sweating badly now. And, er . . . the supervisor had
told Vientus to look out for you.

Me? The supervisor used my name?

Yes. There was a visual file on you and everything. The supervisor said
you were using the possessed to take over sect covens, and they thought
youd try to kill Banneth.

Shit! Quinn stood up, and sprinted for the door. Halfway across the
lounge he shifted into the ghost realm, running through the closed door
without breaking stride.



Half past two Edmonton local time, and the arcology was at its quietest.
Solaris tubes suspended underneath the elevated roads between the uptown
skyscrapers shone down on deserted streets. Hologram adverts swarmed up
the frontage of the ground level shops, bright fantasy worlds and
beautiful people shining enticingly. An army of municipal mechanoids
crawled along the pavements in front of them, spraying their solvents on
tacky patches and guzzling down fast food wrappers. The only pedestrians
left to avoid were a few late night stimheads thrown out of clubs by the
bouncers, and romantic youthful couples slowly strolling the long route
home.

Quinn adopted Erhards image as he hustled along the street. Not an exact
replicant, but a reasonable facsimile of the pathetic ghost. Good enough
to deceive any characteristics recognition program scanning pedestrian
faces through the street monitor sensors for a glimpse of Quinn Dexter.
He stopped by the taxi rank a full block from the Chatsworth, and the
barrier slid down. One of the sleek silver Perseus cabs glided up out of
the subway garage, opening its door for him.

Quinn pulled the seatbelt on with one hand, keying in his destination on
the central control column with the other. He transferred the displayed
fee from his bank disk and the little vehicle sped off along the street.

It all made a frightening amount of sense. He remembered the High Magus
in New York; who obviously knew too much to risk being possessed. And
back in Edmonton when hed been a junior acolyte; the way everyone on a
sect gig had to tell their sergeant acolyte all the crap that was going
down on the street. It happened every single day. The sergeants would
report to the senior acolytes, who in turn reported to Banneth. An
uncompromising routine, drilled in to Quinn along with all the others
right from their initiation. Information is the weapon which wins all
wars. We need to know what the gangs are doing, what the police patrols
are doing, what the locals are doing. Every coven was the same, in every
arcology. The sect knew the moves of every downtown illegal on the whole
planet.

Perfect! Quinn shouted. He thumped his fist into the seat cushion.
Fucking perfect. The taxi was starting to rise up a ramp to the
elevated express-road. Vertical lines of blanked windows zipped past as
they increased speed, then curved round to a horizontal blur. Thousands
of slumbering minds slipstreamed through his consciousness. Restful and
content. Just as they were supposed to be. As they had to be.

Arcologies were the social equivalents of nukes. Half a billion people
crammed into a couple of hundred square kilometres; an impossibility of
human nature. The only society which could conceivably hang together in
those circumstances was a total-control dictatorship. Everything licensed
and regulated with no tolerance of dissent or rebellion. Anarchy and
libertarian freedoms didnt work here, because arcologies were machines.
They had to keep working smoothly, and the same way. Everything
interlocked. If one unit fucked up, then every other unit would suffer.
That couldnt be allowed. Which was a paradox, because you couldnt keep
the jackboot stamping down forever. However benign a dictatorship, some
generation down the line will rebel. So somebody, centuries ago, had
worked out how to keep the lid screwed down tight. An old enough idea,
never quite managed in practice. Until now. A government department that
quietly and secretly takes control of societys lowest strata. Criminals
and radical insurgents actually working for the very people whose
existence they threaten.

Quinn could feel his energistic power starting to boil up. His thoughts
were so hot with fury he could barely contain the power. Gotta keep it
in, he spat through clenched teeth. One mistake now, and theyd have
him. Got to. He pummelled his hands against his head, the shock of the
craziness helping to bring himself back under control. Deep breath, and
he glanced out of the cabs window. Uptowns layout was second nature,
though hed rarely experienced it from an elevated road before, much less
a cab. Theyd be taking the down ramp soon, angling in to Macmillan
Station. Minutes only.

His breathing evened out, though he was still outraged. The sect, the
awesome gospel hed given his very life to, was being used as the front
of some ultra-spook department. No wonder Banneth and Vientus could fix
for an acolytes bail with the cops; they were the fucking cops. Anyone
with the slightest potential for danger was sucked in by the sect. And if
they couldnt be cowed into dumb obedience and neutralized that way, then
they were thrown to the cops and given an Involuntary Transportee
sentence.

That was me, he whispered in pride. Banneth couldnt subdue me. Not
even with all that shit she can do to bodies. Not me! So the cops had
been told about the persona-sequestrator nanonics he was bringing into
the arcology. Hed always wondered whod tipped them off, who the traitor
was amongst his fellow devout. There probably had never even been any in
the carton.

Banneth. Always fucking Banneth.

The taxi drew up in front of one of the hundreds of vehicle entrance bays
to Macmillan Station. Quinn knew there and then that he was in the
deepest shit imaginable. He climbed out of the cab and walked slowly into
the main concourse.

The giant arena of corporate urban architecture was almost as empty as
the streets outside. There were no arrivals. No streams of frantic
passengers racing away from the tops of the escalators. Icons had
evaporated from the informationals, which were hanging motionless in the
air. Stalls had been folded up and abandoned by their sellrats. A few
clumps of listless people stood under holoscreens, cases clutched
tightly, staring up at the single red message that was repeated like a
parallel mirror image everywhere you looked across the station: ALL
VAC-TRAIN SERVICES TEMPORARILY SUSPENDED. Even the scattering of ghosts
Quinn could see were wandering aimlessly about their haunt, their
expressions even more glum and bewildered than usual.

A group of cops were standing together outside a closed BurrowBurger
outlet, drinking from plastic cups, talking quietly among themselves. The
loud echo of his footsteps as he walked towards them stirred way too many
memories inside Quinns skull. It was the same concourse, same dark cop
uniform. Then, there had been pounding feet, heart thudding hard in his
chest. Screams as people dived out of his way, shouted warnings. Alarms
blaring. Brilliant lightbursts. The pain of the nervejam shot.

Excuse me, officer; could you tell me whats happening here? I have a
connection to San Antonio in half an hour. Quinn smiled Erhards twitchy
smile at the cops. It must have been a good copy; most of them sneered.
Finally, the failed acolyte had performed a useful service for Gods
Brother.

Check the station bulletin, one of them said. Christs sake.

I, a ha, I dont have a set of neural nanonics. I qualify for the
company loan scheme next year.

Okay . . . sir; what we have here is a vacuum breach. The tunnels were
pressurizing, so the transit company had to activate the emergency seals.
Theres a repair crew down there now. Should be fixed in a day or so.
Nothing to worry about.

Thank you. Quinn walked back to the taxis.

I cant get out, he realized. Gods Brother! The bastards have snared me
here. Unless I can get to the other arcologies, His work will remain
incomplete. The Night may be held off. And that cannot be allowed. They
are thwarting the Light Bringer Himself!

It was frightening, the way hed been lulled into a false sense of
security. He, of all people. Ever suspicious, ever mistrustful. And hed
fallen into their trap. Yet they must be frightened of him to go to such
elaborate lengths. Whoever they were.

He stood outside a taxi for a long time, working out where he should go.
In the end, there wasnt a lot of choice. He was in Edmonton for one
person. And only one person would be able to tell him who his real enemy
was.



This was the part Billy-Joe didnt like. He was holding a laser pistol in
one hand, there was a heavy-calibre magnetic carbine hanging on a strap
round his left shoulder, fitted with a magazine of EE-tipped projectiles,
a bag full of EE demolition charges on his right shoulder, codebuster and
ELINT blocks on his belt, and a slim omniview band worn like a tiara on
his forehead to boost his sight. It was enough hardware to start a war.
Kicking the shit out of Courtneys punters was Billy-Joes usual gig.
Fast, nasty, and personal. None of this commando shit, where security
systems would shoot back at him if anybody in the group screwed up.

But Quinn had wanted to stir things up in Edmonton, keep the cops busy
and away from uptown. So Billy-Joe was sneaking down a lightless alley at
half past four in the morning with ten other acolytes from Duffys coven.

This is the place, said the possessed man who was leading them, and
stopped at a blank section of the alley wall.

He gave Billy-Joe the creeps, maybe even more than Quinn. One of the five
possessed which Duffy had let into the bodies of snatched civilians. They
all lived at the coven headquarters, treating the acolytes like shit and
lording it up: the core of what Quinn promised was to be the army of the
Night. Billy-Joe wasnt so sure about all that dark destiny stuff now,
despite all hed seen Quinn do. From where he was, it was just replacing
one bunch of turds for another. The sect never changed; he always got
dumped on no matter who was in charge.

The possessed rested his hands on the wall, tensing as if he was trying
to push it over. He probably could, Billy-Joe acknowledged. And that was
without energistic power. He was at least thirty centimetres taller than
Billy-Joe, and must have weighed half as much again.

A door materialized in the wall, made of wooden planks with big black
iron bolts and with a sturdy circular handle. It opened silently, letting
a wedge of bright light spill out into the fetid alley. There was a long
hall of machinery on the other side; bulky turbine casings half-submerged
in the carbon-concrete floor. Billy-Joe was looking down on them from at
least sixty metres; the door had opened onto a high metal gantry running
round the inside.

In you go, the possessed man ordered. His bass voice rumbled along the
alley, agitating the rats.

I thought you werent supposed to use your power, Billy-Joe said. The
cops know how to look for it now.

They can only detect those fireballs we use, the possessed said glibly.
Listen, kid; Quinn wants you to bugger up this water station, he was
real keen for you to do that. Thats why Im here with you, so I can let
you guys in quietly. Now, unless youd like to go in by the front gate,
this is the way to do it.

Three of the sensors perched along the top of the alley wall picked up
the blas assurance, relaying it to the intrigued supervisors of North
America and Western Europe. The big possessed man had been leaving a
trail of glitched processors ever since the little sabotage group emerged
from the coven headquarters.

The ever-vigilant AI had datavised North America as soon as the first two
were confirmed. A GISD covert tactical team had been dispatched to shadow
them within seconds. But the trail had been so ridiculously blatant that
North America had alerted Western Europe, and kept the tactical team a
block away. Both of the B7 supervisors waited to see exactly where
Billy-Joe and the others were heading.

I cant let them damage the water station, North America said.
Edmontons operating margins are becoming critical as it is, thanks to
Quinns vandalism.

I know, Western Europe said. And our big friend has to know that as
well. Use the snipers to target the waster scum, but dont let them shoot
this new possessed. Ive become very curious about his attitude.

Havent we all. North America issued his orders to the tactical team,
who started to take up position inside the water station hall.

Internal sensors showed the sabotage group sneaking in through the new
door, glancing from side to side to make sure no one was watching them,
then stalking along the catwalk in an almost theatrical mime of caution.
Nine of them went inside. Then the possessed man grabbed Billy-Joes
shoulder with a meaty hand and pulled him back just as he was about to
slip through. White fire spat from the fingertips of his free hand,
soaring into the hall. A couple of balls struck an electrical junction
panel, detonating loudly.

What the fuck? Billy-Joe gasped. He struggled uselessly in that
implacable grip as his colleagues shouted in panic. The door slammed shut
with a vociferous bang, and vanished. You bastard! Billy-Joe screamed.
He swung his laser pistol round, and fired at the chuckling possessed at
point blank range. Nothing happened. The weapons electronics had crashed.

Several explosions sounded inside the hall, reverberating through the
solid wall. Both supervisors watched with little interest as the tactical
team eliminated the saboteurs. Their attention was focused almost
entirely on the small, intense drama unravelling outside in the alley.

Traitor! Billy-Joe yelled recklessly. You killed them, theyre dying
in there.

The possessed mans grip tightened, lifting Billy-Joe off the floor, and
bringing their faces close together. Quinns gonna chop you into rat
bait, Billy-Joe hissed in defiance.

I spared you so you can deliver a message to him.

What? What . . . I

A palm slapped into Billy-Joes cheek. It was hard enough to make bones
rattle. A red veil flashed up over Billy-Joes vision, like someone had
shot the omniview band with a targeting laser. He groaned, tasting blood.
Are you listening to me? the possessed purred.

Yeah, Billy-Joe whimpered miserably.

You tell Quinn Dexter that the friends of Carter McBride are coming for
him. Were going to piss all over his crazy little schemes, then were
going to make him pay for what hes done. Understand? The friends of
Carter McBride.

Who are you?

I just told you, dickhead.

Billy-Joe was dropped to stumble among the slippery bags of trash and
fleeing rats. A boot kicked his ass with terrible force, sending him
flying. He hit the wall and rebounded, crying out at the pain stabbing
through his buttocks.

Now start running, the possessed said. I want you out of here before
the cops start hunting us.

Keep the tactical team away from them, Western Europe said. A shout had
almost escaped from his lips, the revelation was so astounding.

Thank you for your insight, North America said caustically. Theyll
stay clear.

My God, weve got an ally. A bona fide ally. A possessed at war with
Quinn Dexter.

We wont have him for very long, I suspect.

The big possessed man was almost chasing a terrified Billy-Joe along the
alley. They emerged onto a broad patch of wasteland, cracked sheets of
carbon-concrete with rows of severed metal support pillars sticking up
all along the edges. Typical of that area on the edge of dome, dominated
by warehouses and shabby industrial buildings.

What are you talking about? Western Europe demanded.

Smart boy, this friend of Carter McBride. Hes heading for the utility
labyrinth. North America datavised the file over.

Neural icons flowed together, producing a horrendously complex three
dimensional maze for Western Europe to examine. Pipes, tunnels, subway
tracks, underground cargo roads, power conduits, they all seemed to
interlock under that one section of the dome. It was a nexus where
utility providers and transport industries joined together to supply
Edmonton with the essentials its inhabitants expected; the busy
powerhouse behind the public stations, efficient suppliers, and
immaculate malls. The ground for kilometres around the water station was
riddled with concrete warrens and bunkers, with a thousand entrances and
ten thousand junctions.

And those are just the ones marked on the file, North America said
bitterly. Christ knows whats actually down there.

The possessed man and Billy-Joe stopped beside a giant metal trapdoor
whose rectangular rim was marked out by thin lines of thistles. It hinged
upwards, tearing the tangle of yellow tap roots with a loud ripping
sound. Crumbs of soil dribbled down into the chasm revealed underneath.
The top rungs of a rusty ladder were just visible. Billy-Joe started to
climb down. The possessed man followed. As soon as his head was level
with the ground, the trapdoor closed over him. For a second, the rim
glowed purple, as if it had been haloed by neon tubes.

I bet he just sealed it up, North America said.

Get the tactical team over there fast, Western Europe said. Welding
the edges isnt going to stop them cutting it open, not with their
firepower.

Theyre on their way.

Can the AI track him down there?

Its already accessed all sensors and processors in the labyrinth. But
that shaft they went down was an inspection and maintenance access for an
old industrial heat exchange coolant fluid pipe. Theres no active
electronics in there, it hasnt been used for fifty years. They could
come out anywhere.

Damnit. Flood the place with your bitek insects. Use every operative you
have to physically cover the exits. We cannot let him escape.

Please. Dont tell me how to manage my assets. I have some experience in
these matters.

I apologise, Western Europe said. Damn, this is so frustrating. That
possessed could be the real break were looking for. He might manage to
neutralize Dexter for us. We have to make contact.

The tactical team reached the metal trap door and promptly carved a
circle out of it. One by one they hurried down the ladder.

Billy-Joe would probably lead us direct to Dexter, Western Europe said.
If we could just find him when he comes out.

Maybe, North America said. Im not making any promises.



Searching the labyrinth was a huge operation, though subtle enough to
avoid the attention of the media. Police were diverted from their usual
patrol routes to cover every entrance. Swarms of bitek spiders, bees,
earwigs, and roaches were released into the maze of tunnels and
passageways, their examination coordinated by North Americas subsentient
bitek processor array. Every employee working in the labyrinth was
stopped and questioned as they came on and off shift. The AI assumed
direct control of every mechanoid the labyrinth companies used,
reassigning them to assist the search.

North America discovered several stim dens, enough deadbeats to populate
a couple of condos, caches of weapons dating back decades, and enough
illegally dumped toxic waste canisters to warrant urgent official
attention. There were also a large number of bodies, ranging from the
freshly dumped to skeletons picked clean by the rats.

Of Billy-Joe and the friend of Carter McBride there was no sign.



Carter McBride? Incredulity swept all Quinns anger away as the name
finally registered. Gods Brother! This possessed definitely said Carter
McBride? Youre sure? Quinn could barely remember Carters face, just
one of the little brats running loose round Aberdale. Then, as he found
out later, Laton had the boy murdered, making it look as though the Ivets
had done it. The villagers had systematically set out to kill Quinn and
his colleagues in revenge.

Yes, Billy-Joe said. His limbs wouldnt stop trembling. He expected
Quinn to blast him into a lump of smoking meat when he returned to the
Chatsworth. In fact, hed been wondering if he should even bother
returning to the old hotel at all. Five hours of shitting himself about
the consequences as he slunk round diseased tunnels full of those fucking
rats and worse. Expecting the cops to burst out of the walls any second.
Getting mugged. Fucking mugged! Some bunch of deadbeats clubbing him over
the head and making off with most of his gear. Not daring to shoot them
in case the cops detected his weapon.

It had taken a long time before he trudged back to the Chatsworth. In the
end he did it because he believed Quinn would ultimately win. Edmonton
would fall into a state of demonic anarchy, ruled over by sect possessed.
And when that happened, the dark messiah would catch up with Billy-Joe.
Explanations would have to be made. Punishment would follow that. So he
came back. This way only one failure had to be accounted for.

Shit, Quinn breathed. Him! Its got to be him again.

Who? Courtney asked.

I dont know. He keeps . . . pissing me off. Hes appeared a few times
now, screwing with what I do. What else did he say? he asked Billy-Joe.

That he was going to wreck whatever you were doing.

Figures. Anything else? The tone was unnervingly mild.

Youll pay for what youve done. He said it, Quinn, not me. I swear.

I believe you, Billy-Joe. Youve been obedient to Our Lord. I dont
punish loyalty. So he said hed make me pay, did he? How?

Just that hed catch up with you. Didnt say nothing else.

Quinns robe changed, the fabric hardening around his limbs. I shall
enjoy that encounter.

What are you going to do, Quinn? Courtney asked.

Shut up. He stalked over to the window and peered down through a gap in
the heavy curtains. Cars and trucks flashed along the ramp five stories
below, curving down to street level. Fewer vehicles than usual, and the
crowds on the sidewalk were noticeably thinner. But then Edmonton had
been in a mild panic for most of the day since the early morning
commuters discovered the vac-trains were closed. Every Govcentral
spokesperson in the arcology assured the reporters that there were no
possessed loose. Nobody believed them. Things were falling apart across
the domes. But not in the way Quinn intended.

I dont fucking believe this, he raged silently. Some kind of supercops
know Im here. I cant bring about the fall of true Night without the
vac-trains. And now heavens own bastard vigilante is gunning for me.
Gods Brother, how could everything go so wrong? Even Banneth is
diminished.

It was another of His tests. It must be. He is showing me the true path
to Armageddon lies elsewhere. That as His messiah I must not rest, not
even to gorge my own serpent beast. But who the fuck is Carters friend?
If he knew Carter, then he must be someone from Lalonde, Aberdale itself.
One of the men.

Although that conclusion hardly reduced the field of suspects. All the
men at that sewer of a village hated him. He forced himself to be calm,
to remember the few words the bastard had spoken back on Jesup asteroid
when he fucked up the sacrifice ceremony.

Remember this part? Quinns own mimicked face had taunted. So whoever
it was had witnessed the sect ceremony before, then. And was from
Aberdale.

The realization was so pleasurable it blessed Quinns face with the kind
of smile usually bought by orgasm. He turned from the window. Call
everyone, he told one of the nervous acolytes. Were going to tool up
and march against Banneth. I want every one of my followers to accompany
me.

Shit, were going for her? Courtneys eyes were shining with greed.

Of course.

You promised I could watch.

You will. It was the only way. The cops would only allow the vac-trains
to run again if they thought theyd eliminated all the possessed in the
arcology.

Quinn would bring them together, and do to them what Carter McBrides
friend had done to the sabotage group. After that, time would become his
most powerful weapon. Not even the supercops could keep the vac-trains
closed for months when there were no further signs of possession.

But first, I have something else which needs taking care of.

Courtney did as she was told and switched on a processor block,
establishing a link with Edmontons net. Quinn stood a couple of metres
away, watching the little screen over her shoulder as the questor was
launched into Govcentrals main citizens directory. It took eight minutes
before the requested file expanded into the blocks memory. He read down
the information, and smiled victoriously. Her! he said, and thrust the
block towards Courtney and Billy-Joe, showing them the picture hed
found. I want her. You two go down to the vac-train station and wait. I
dont give a fuck how long you have to stay there for, but the first
vac-train out of here, you take it and you get over to Frankfurt. Find
her, and bring her to me. Understand? I want her alive.



A call from reception informed Louise that she had a delivery to accept.
The house telephone was almost identical to the chunky black instruments
back on Norfolk, except it had a bell rather than a shrill chime. Now she
had neural nanonics, the whole thing seemed absurdly primitive.
Presumably, for people who didnt have them as their sole planetary
communication system, they were endearingly quaint. Part of the Ritzs
old-world elegance.

Louise looked around the lobby as soon as the lift doors opened, curious
about what could have been sent to her. She was sure all the department
stores had delivered. Andy Behoo was slouching against the reception desk
under the suspicious gaze of the concierge. He jerked to attention when
he saw Louise, his elbow nearly knocking over a vase of white freesia.
She smiled politely. Hello, Andy.

Uh. He stuck his hand out, holding a flek case. The Hyperpeadia
questors arrived. I thought Id better bring it round myself to make
sure you got it okay. I know it was important to you.

The concierge was watching with considerable interest. He didnt get to
see such naked adoration very often. Louise gestured towards the other
end of the vaulting chamber. Thank you, she said when Andy pressed the
flek into her hand. Thats very kind.

Part of the service. He smiled broadly, crooked teeth on show.

Louise was rather stuck for what to say after that. How are you?

You know. The usual. Overworked underpaid.

Well you do a very good job at the shop. Im grateful for the way you
looked after me.

Ah. Andys world was suddenly very short on oxygen. But shed come down
by herself. That must mean her fianc hadnt arrived yet. Um, Louise.

Yes?

Her soft smile was wired directly into his brains pleasure centre,
shorting out his coordination. He knew he was making a right old balls up
of this. I was wondering. If you havent got anything planned, that is.
I mean, Ill understand if you have and all that. But I thought, you
know, you havent been in London long and had a chance to see much of it.
So if you like, I could take you out to dinner. This evening. Please.

Oh. Thats really sweet of you. Where?

She hadnt said no. Andy stared, his smile numbed into place. The most
beautiful, classy, sexy girl in existence hadnt said no when he asked
her for a date. Huh?

Where do you want to go for dinner?

Um, I thought the Lake Isle. Its not far, over in Covent Garden. Hed
asked Liscard for a two week advance on his pay, just in case Louise said
yes; Liscard granted it on a four per cent interest rate. That way he
could actually afford the Lake Isle. Probably. It had cost a lot more
than hed expected to reserve the table; and that deposit was
non-refundable. But the other sellrats all said it was the right kind of
place to take a girl like Louise.

That sounds nice, Louise said. What time?

Seven oclock. If thats okay?

Thats fine. She gave him a light kiss on his cheek. Ill be here.

Andy walked back with her to the waiting lift. There had been something
about a dress code in the datavise when he reserved the table. He now had
two and a quarter hours to find a dinner jacket. A clean one, that
fitted. It didnt matter. A man whod got himself a date with Louise
Kavanagh could do anything. Louise pressed the button for her floor. You
dont mind if I bring Genevieve, do you? I really cant leave her here by
herself, Im afraid.

Uh. From nirvana to hell in half a second. No. Thatll be lovely.



I dont want to spend an evening with him, Genevieve whinnied. Hes
all peculiar. And he fancies you. Its creepy.

Of course he fancies me, Louise said with a grin. He wouldnt have
asked me out otherwise.

You dont fancy him, do you? a thoroughly shocked Genevieve asked.
That would just be too hideous, Louise.

Louise opened the wardrobe and started to rifle through the dresses
theyd managed to acquire on their shopping trips. No, I dont fancy
him. And hes not peculiar. Hes quite harmless.

I dont understand. If you dont fancy him, why did you say yes? We can
go out by ourselves. Please, Louise. London isnt nearly as dangerous as
Daddy thinks it is. I like it here. Theres so much to do. We could go to
one of the West End shows. They sell tickets at reception. I checked.

Louise sighed and sat down on the bed. She patted the mattress, and Gen
made a show of being reluctant to sit beside her. If you really, really
dont want to go out with Andy for the evening, Ill cancel.

Youre not going to kiss him or anything, are you?

No! Louise laughed. Devil child. What a dreadful thing to say.

Then why?

Louise stroked the dark hair from Gens face, letting the flexitives
ripple it over her ears. Because, she said softly. Ive never been
asked out to dinner with a boy before. Not to a fancy restaurant where I
can dress to kill. I dont suppose itll ever happen again. Not even
Joshua asked me out. Not that he could, of course. Not when we were at
Cricklade.

Is he the babys father?

Yes. Joshuas the father.

Gen brightened. That means hes going to be my brother-in-law.

Yes. I suppose it does.

I like Joshua. Itll be stupendous having him living at Cricklade. Hes
such jolly fun.

Oh yeah. Hes fun all right. She closed her eyes, remembering the way
his hands had caressed. Warm and skilful. It had been so long since shed
seen him. But he did promise . . . So, what do I tell Andy Behoo, then?
Do we go, or do we stay here all night?

Can I wear my party dress, too? Gen asked.



The scene playing out above the B7 sensenviron conference room table was
the one involving the failed sabotage attempt against Edmontons water
station. It wasnt a particularly good image, the stations perimeter
sensors were hardly commercial-quality; but the two humanoid figures
shouting at each other had enough colour and resolution to sketch in
their individual features. Billy-Joe was being suspended several
centimetres off the floor of the alley by the large possessed man. Their
noses were almost touching. Then Billy-Joe was slapped hard, more words
were exchanged. The two of them ran off down the squalid alley.

We think we know who Carter McBride is, Western Europe told the other
supervisors as the recording ended. The AI found several references. He
was the child of a colonist family on the same starship that took Quinn
Dexter to Lalonde. According to the Lalonde Development Company files I
accessed, the McBrides were also in the same village that Dexter was
assigned to for his work-time.

A friend of Carter McBride, Southern Africa mused. You mean this new
possessed was on Lalonde?

Yes, Western Europe said. And the whole Quallheim Counties trouble was
originally thought to be an Ivet rebellion over the killing of some boy.
The obvious conclusion is that it was Carter. That implies the possessed
who blew the sabotage group in Edmonton has to be someone killed on
Lalonde at around the same time.

So youre saying that this possessed person is out for revenge against
Quinn Dexter?

Exactly, North America said. We have a new ally.

Bullshit, South Pacific said sharply. Just because the possessed have
internal disputes, that doesnt make one faction friendly towards us.
Suppose this new possessed does manage to eliminate Dexter? Do you really
think hell just conveniently vanish for us afterwards? I certainly
dont. In any case, were not exactly communicating with him, are we? You
lost him and this waster boy. What kind of amateurism is that?

Id like to see you do better in that goddamn labyrinth, North America
snapped.

Given the speed at which this new development broke, I think the
situation was handled as adroitly as possible, Western Europe said.
However, it does introduce some new factors which I believe warrant our
consideration.

Such as? North Pacific asked suspiciously.

I believe it will force Dexter to abandon all his activities for a
while. Unfortunately, this wretched little oik Billy-Joe couldnt be
intercepted, so we must assume he returned to Dexter and passed on the
message he was given. As a consequence, Dexter will know he has a
possessed stalking him; and that after the sabotage mission was exposed,
the authorities have confirmed there are possessed in Edmonton. If were
right about his reasons for being hereto wreck as much of the planet as
possiblehell have no choice but to ignore Banneth and either abandon or
betray the remaining possessed in the arcology. Then hell lay low until
political pressure forces the North American senate to reopen the
vac-train lines. Face it, we cant keep them shut for months unless there
is a visible threat to rattle the public with. Time is on his side. Were
already compromising ourselves with the actions weve taken to date.

Not a chance, South Pacific blurted. She pointed a hostile finger at
Western Europe. Very smooth. But I can see what youre angling for, and
I say no. No way.

Angling for what? Central America asked.

He wants us to open Edmontons vac-train routes.

Count me out, Asian Pacific said quickly.

Absolutely not, East Asia agreed. Weve got Dexter bottled up in one
place. Keep him there. Youll just have to improve your surveillance
techniques and track him down.

Hes goddamn invisible! North America stormed. You saw what happened
in Grand Central Station. There arent any techniques to improve that can
catch up with that kind of ability.

If we dont re-open the vac-train routes, then well be condemning
Edmonton and everyone in it to possession, Western Europe said. And
very probably removal from this universe. Remember what happened to
Ketton on Mortonridge. Thats what theyll do to it. They cant survive
here.

That outcome is certainly acceptable to me, North Pacific said. Weve
discussed this through before. Better to lose one arcology if that means
saving the rest.

But we dont have to, Western Europe insisted. Dexter becomes visible
to us when hes moving. Thats when hes vulnerable.

Hes not visible, South Pacific said. We know hes moved simply by the
destruction he leaves behind. I mean, shit, blowing up the Eiffel Tower!
Face it, we cant catch him.

We have to make the attempt. Its the reason we exist, the only reason.
If we cannot protect Earth from a single possessed when we have the
opportunity, especially because of political cowardice, then we have
failed.

Im not buying into any of this noblesse oblige crap, I never did. That
might be your heritage, but it certainly isnt mine. We formed B7 out of
sheer bloody minded self interest. And you were a big part of that, dont
forget. We exist to protect our own interests. Ninety-nine times out of a
hundred, that means protecting Earth and looking out for its citizens.
Well bravo us. I dont begrudge them that expenditure. But this is not
one of those benevolent times. This time we safeguard ourselves against
possession, and especially against Quinn bloody Dexter. Im sorry about
the inhabitants, but Edmonton falls to this Night of his. Probably Paris
and the others as well. Tough. Well be safe, though.

I was wrong, Western Europe said coldly. Its not political cowardice.
Youre frightened of him.

Thats beneath contempt, South Pacific sneered. Im not going to open
the vac-trains simply because you insult me.

I know that. I was just insulting you anyway. You deserve it.

Big deal. Dont tell me youre not making preparations to desert the
sinking ship.

All of us are, as we all know. It would be foolish not to. But for me
its a last resort. To be perfectly honest, starting afresh on some new
world holds little appeal. I suspect the same applies to the rest of you.

The representations around the table remained silent.

Exactly, Western Europe said. We have to defeat Dexter on the ground.
Our ground.

By letting Edmonton fall, we are defeating him, Central America said.
Hell vanish from the whole planet along with the arcology.

He wont. Hes too smart to fall into that trap, and his agenda is
different to the ordinary possessed. The vac-trains will be opened again
no matter how determined you all are. Its only a matter of time. I say
we should lure him out into a target ground of our own choosing.

Hes already exterminated four of Banneths acolytes in her own
headquarters, Military Intelligence said. We know he keeps going back
there, yet we still havent managed to kill the little bastard. I dont
see how taking him to another arcology helps.

We cant change Banneths environment now, that would be too blatant.
Dexter would be warned off. But we can take her to a more suitable
location for a strike.

You just said hell sacrifice his vendetta against Banneth to achieve
his greater objective, Asian Pacific said. Do try to present a
consistent argument, please.

I can get him out of Edmonton, Western Europe insisted. The Kavanagh
girls appearing at this stage will be an irresistible enigma to him.
Hell have to follow them to find out whats happening. And they will be
manoeuvred wherever I choose.

Well you neednt try choosing my territory, South Pacific said.

I wouldnt dream of it. This requires efficiency and total cooperation.
Qualities apparently beyond your ability to provide.

Lead him into your territory then.

I intend to.

Then what are you whining about?

I dont want any interference. This requires finesse. If I initiate this
operation, you stay out of it. No surprise Presidential decrees wrecking
my preparations. No media novas. We all know what were capable of if we
want to screw each other over. Weve been at it long enough in our other
arenas, but this is not the time for those sort of games.

South Pacific looked from Western Europe to North America. You two do
whatever you like. But you do it between yourselves. Your territories are
now embargoed, along with Bombay and Johannesburg. Would you like to put
a counter motion to the vote?

No, Western Europe said. I have what I want.



In the end Andy had to go back to Liscard and ask for a further advance.
Four weeks pay at seven and a half per cent interest! He deliberately
didnt put a calculator program in primary mode, didnt want to know how
long he was going to be shackled to Judes Eworld to finance one date.
But he could hardly ask Louise to pay for Genevieve. That would be cheap.

This time when he walked into the lobby of the Ritz, the concierge smiled
pleasantly. Andys dinner jacket had been loaned from someone hed done
repair work for a couple of months back; midnight black with a reasonably
fashionable cut. The white dress shirt hed borrowed from a fellow
sellrat, along with the scarlet bow tie. His black shoes came from a
neighbour. Even the silk handkerchief in his top pocket was his mothers.
In fact the only thing he wore of his own were his boxer shorts. He could
risk that, somehow he was pretty sure Louise wouldnt get to see them
tonight.

Seven oclock and she wasnt there. Six minutes past and he was debating
if he should ask reception to call her room. Eight minutes, and he knew
hed been stood up. Hardly surprising.

The lift doors opened. Louise was wearing a full length gown of deep-blue
fabric, accessorised by a small rust-coloured waistcoat. No longer the
breezy teenager whod sauntered into Judes Eworld needing assistance,
her demeanour had gained twenty years. Andy didnt bother recording her
image into a memory cell. No program could ever capture that combination
of beauty and sophistication. His own recollection of this moment would
stay with him throughout his entire life, he knew.

When he smiled at her, it was almost in sadness. Thank you for coming.

Her answering expression was uncertain, sensing somehow just how
important this had become for him. Im flattered to be asked, Andy. She
prodded Genevieve.

Thank you very much for letting me come along, the little girl said.
There was nothing in the voice that gave hint of duplicity.

Thats okay, Andy said. Hey, you look great. Give us a twirl.

Genevieve smiled in appreciation, and put her arms out to turn a complete
circle. Her scarlet dress flapped about. A slim chain was fastened round
her throat, its tarnished pendant bobbing against her neckline. Andy
looked straight at Louise. Another five years and the boys wont know
what hit them.

What do you mean? Genevieve asked.

He means youre very pretty, Louise told her.

Oh. Genevieve blushed, but still managed to grin up at Andy.

Having her along wasnt so bad, after all, Andy found. In fact, she
removed a lot of the tension that would probably have come from being
alone with Louise for the whole evening. It wasnt boy-girl, one on one;
with him desperate to impress with every word. That, he acknowledged,
would have been an utter disaster.

He paid for the short taxi ride to Covent Garden. The Lake Isle was one
of a hundred restaurants in the area. It had an antique frontage
enclosing a small bar, with a seating area at the back which was
inexplicably large given the size of the neighbouring buildings, and too
shiny to be genuinely old. As they stepped inside, Louise tapped Andys
shoulder. Were going Dutch tonight. No arguments. I brought Gen along
after all. It wouldnt be fair.

The head waiter handed them over to an assistant waiter, who showed them
to a table. Glancing round, Louise thought that they were possibly
overdressed. But she couldnt turn down the chance to wear the blue
dress, and Andy certainly didnt complain. If eyes had been hands, he
wouldve crushed her.

Did you find your friend? he asked once they were seated.

Not yet. That detective you recommended seemed quite good, though. Thank
you.

The wine list appeared. Louise looked wistfully at the Norfolk Tears, not
quite believing the price. She let Andy choose; a dry white wine from the
Jovian habitats, and sparkling mineral water for Gen.

You can have one glass of wine, Louise said when her sister started to
look mutinous.

Yes, Louise. Thank you, Louise.

She stared the little girl down. Gen had been threatened with dire
retribution if she stepped out of line during the meal.

It was a strange evening. Louise enjoyed it for the knowledge it gave
her. What it would really be like to live in a vibrant arcology, and be
asked out by boys. Dressing up. The taste of exotic food. Conversation
that wasnt just about crops, relatives, and local events; but of the
momentous things facing the Confederation, and how the Navy was coping,
and the latest news from the Mortonridge Liberation campaign. She had the
freedom to say what she thought, based on her personal experience. To
have an astonishing tale to tell, and be listened to.

While it was happening, she could actually forget how phony it all was.
That she could never actually be that girl about town, because she was
due to be a mother. That Joshua had never seen her dressed like this. How
life could never be lived without a care anymore now that the human race
knew the beyond awaited. And Quinn Dexter, who stalked Earths beautiful,
awesome arcologies, ready to smash them into a trillion pieces.

Over dessert she found herself looking at Andy in what was near to envy.
He could still have that life; chase girls, go out partying with his
friends, attend university, earn his degree, write his programs, travel.
Possibly. If the possessed didnt win.

Are you okay? Andy asked. Hed been in the middle of telling her about
his plans to set up his own software house when hed raised enough money.
This months dream.

Im sorry. She put her hand on top of his, and squeezed softly. You
probably wont believe the clich, but this has been one of the nicest
evenings of my whole life. Im very grateful you asked me out. The look
of utter longing he gave her in reply nearly made her cry for what could
never be. She caught their waiters attention. Three glasses of Norfolk
Tears, please.

Genevieve stopped attacking her dessert bowl with a spoon in an attempt
to scrape out the very last morsels of chocolate orange souffl. She
smiled in hopeful astonishment.

Yes, you, too, Louise laughed. To Andy she said: My treat. If youve
never had it, you should. Its the only way to end an evening as perfect
as this.

The drinks arrived in slim crystal glasses on a silver tray. Louise
sniffed gently at the bouquet. Wessex County, probably the Clayton
estate.

Yes miss, the startled waiter said. Thats right.

The three of them raised their glasses. To living life, not wasting it,
Louise said.

They drank to that.



Louise received the datavise when they were in the taxi heading back to
the Ritz; a purple telephone handset icon blinking silently at the corner
of her vision (NAS2600 had thousands of symbols and sounds to choose
frombut this was the most familiar). The sense of cosiness which the
evening had engendered immediately shrank away. It couldnt be anything
other than business.

Her neural nanonics acknowledged the call, and Ivanov Robsons icon tag
replaced the purple telephone.

Ive got some good news for you, the detective datavised. Ive found
Banneth.

Where? Louise datavised back.

Shes currently in Edmonton.

Thank you. That was one of the arcologies which the news had said was
isolated. Do you have an eddress for her?

Certainly. He datavised the file over. Louise, you may have a problem
selling this story of yours to her. If that happens, please call me. I
might be able to help.

Of course, and thank you again.

The doorman gave Andy a dubious stare when they got back to the hotel.
Louise saw him hesitate, full of his old uncertainties, and felt an
uncomfortably strong stab of sympathy. Wait for me inside the lobby,
she told Genevieve.

Her sister smiled mischievously up at Andy, winked, then skipped inside.

Thankful no giggles had been audible, Louise took a deep breath. I have
to go now, Andy.

Can I see you again?

The amount of hope in his voice was awful. I should never have agreed to
come out tonight, she thought, he was always going to misinterpret it.
Yet for all his faults, he has a good heart. No, Andy, Im sorry. I have
this person I need to find, and I also have my fianc. I shall be leaving
Earth as soon as I can. It wouldnt be right, not for either of us. I
dont want you to think this is something it isnt.

I see. His head drooped down.

You can kiss me goodnight, though, she said shyly.

More in fear than joy, he pressed himself against her, touching his lips
to hers. When they parted, her mouth crinkled up in compassion. I really
did enjoy tonight, Andy. Thank you.

If it doesnt work with your fianc, and you come back . . . he began
optimistically.

Youll be top of my list. Promise.

He watched her disappear through the doors, standing with his arms
hanging limply at his side. The finality of it was appalling. For one mad
moment he wanted to rush after her.

Youll get over it, son, the doorman said. Plenty more of them out
there.

Not like her! Andy shouted back.

The doorman shrugged, and smiled with infuriating smugness.

Andy turned fast, and walked away through the night-time crowds that were
clogging the pavement. I kissed her, though, he whispered. I really
did. He gave an incredulous little guffaw as the enormity of the contact
finally registered. I kissed Louise Kavanagh. Laughing broadly he set
off towards Islington; he was far too broke to pay for a metro trip.



Louise waited until Genevieve was tucked up in bed before she called
Banneth.

Hello. You dont know me, but Im Louise Kavanagh. Im calling to warn
you about someone called Quinn Dexter. Do you know him?

Fuck off. The contact was cancelled.

Louise datavised Banneths eddress to the rooms net processor again.
Look, this is important. I met Quinn Dexter on Norfolk, and hes going
to . . .

A red cross icon flashed persistently as the contact was cancelled again.
The next time Louise datavised Banneths eddress she got a filter program
which requested her icon tag. She loaded it in, only to be told she
wasnt on the receivers approved reception list. Damnation!

Whats the matter? Genevieve peered over at her from the bed, duvet
clutched round her shoulders.

Banneth wont talk to me. I dont believe this, after everything weve
been through to warn her. How . . . How stupid.

What are you going to do now?

Call Robson, I suppose. She datavised the detectives eddress into the
processor, wondering if the man was psychic. Not a bad thing for a
private eye.

Dont worry, he told her. Ill come right over.



The cocktail lounge was a mistake. Louise sat at a table by herself and
ordered an orange juice while she waited for Ivanov Robson to arrive. The
decor was as polished as the rest of the hotel, with honey-brown wooden
panels and gold-framed mirrors covering the walls. Chandeliers kept it
well lit, although it seemed shady, like a woodland glade. There were
enough different bottles behind the rosewood bar to make the shelving
look like an art exhibition.

Whether it was the wine and Norfolk Tears finally catching up with her,
or just the superb cushioning of the deep leather chair, Louise suddenly
started to feel warm and drowsy. It didnt help that she had to deflect
seemingly dozens of offers from young (and not-so-young) men to buy her a
drink and keep her company. She was worried that she was being too sharp
when she turned them down. Whatever would mother say?

One of the tailcoated waiters eventually came over, an ancient man with
large white sideburns who put her in mind of Mr Butterworth. Are you
sure you want to stay here, miss? he asked kindly. There are quieter
rooms available for residents.

Ill take care of her, Ivanov Robson said.

Of course, sir. The waiter bowed, and backed away.

The giant detectives gaze slid along the line of men sitting up at the
bar. All of them suddenly found something else of interest.

No offence, Louise, but if youre going to wear that kind of dress, you
really shouldnt be in a bar by yourself. Not even here. It sends out
some seriously strong signals. He sat down in the chair beside her, his
bulk making the leather creak.

Oh. She looked down, only just realizing she was still in the blue
dress shed worn as a treat for Andy. I think I may have had too much to
drink. I went out for a meal with a friend earlier on.

Indeed? I didnt think you were wearing it for my benefit. Though I
would have been highly flattered. You look quite gorgeous.

Louise blushed. Um . . . thank you.

You do know your neural nanonics have a suppression program to deal with
a wee bit too much mouth-alcohol interaction, dont you?

No.

Well they do. Perhaps if you were to put it into primary mode, this
would be a more productive meeting.

Right. She called up the control architecture, and hunted round for the
suppresser program. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually the bar
wasnt so warm. Deep breaths conjured up the kind of alertness she
employed during difficult school exams.

A cut-crystal tumbler of whisky had appeared on the small table at
Ivanovs side. He took a sip, watching her intently. Better now?

Yes. Thank you. Though she was unhappy about the dress; people were
still giving her the kind of looks Andy had, but without his endearing
reticence.

What happened with Banneth? Ivanov asked.

She cut me off. I couldnt tell her anything.

Humm. Not entirely surprising. I accessed several facts about her during
my investigation that indicate shes not an average citizen. The Edmonton
police have amassed a rather large file on her activities. They believe
shes involved with some kind of criminal organization; supplying illegal
hormones and bitek products. Any mention of her former colleagues is
bound to make her prickly. And you were right about this Dexter
character, he was deported; the charge was aggravated resistance of
arrest. The cops suspected he was a courier for Banneth.

Now what do I do?

You have two options. One, you can forget it and stay in London. Were
safe for now. I keep my ear close to the ground, the possessed havent
appeared here yet.

I cant. Please dont ask why, but I have to give Banneth a proper
warning. I didnt come all this way to be thwarted by the last mile.

I understand. In that case, I reluctantly advise you to visit Edmonton.
If you meet Banneth face to face shell see you are neither a police
entrapment agent, nor a nutcase. Shell take your warning seriously.

But Edmonton has been isolated.

Not any more. He took a sip of whisky, watching her closely. The
vac-trains have started running again. I guess the authorities have
eliminated the possessed, or think they have.

Quinn Dexter will be there, she said softly.

I know. Thats why I advised you to stay away before. However, if youre
set on this, Ill accompany you and provide what protection I can. If
hes as bad as you say he is, it wont amount to much. But its better
than nothing.

Youd do that?

Youll have to pay for it. But I include bodyguard services in my job
description.

It still wasnt over. Louise fought to hold back the fear she felt at the
prospect of walking into an arcology where she was sure Quinn would
visit. But dear Fletcher had been so adamant, and shed promised. Do you
know where Banneth is?

Yes. I have a contact in the Edmonton police whos keeping me informed.
If you decide you want to do this, we can go straight to her. You deliver
your message, and we walk out. I doubt thatll take more than ten
minutes. We could be back here in London in less than five hours.

I cant leave Gen. Not even for that.

Im sure the hotel can arrange for someone to look after her tonight.

You dont understand. Shes my responsibility; Gen and I are all thats
left of our home, our family, maybe even our whole planet. I cant put
her in any more danger. Shes only twelve years old.

The danger is the same here as it is in Edmonton, he said levelly.

No it isnt. Just being in the same arcology as Banneth is dangerous.
Govcentral should never have opened the vac-trains to Edmonton again.

I can get my hands on the kind of weapon which the Liberation army is
using on Mortonridge. Theyre proven against the possessed. That puts the
odds back in our favour.

She gave him a long look, puzzled by his attitude. Its like you want me
to go.

All Im doing is explaining the options to you, Louise. We agreed before
that I know most of the ground rules in this arena, didnt we. This kind
of mission is well inside my expertise.

Maybe it was his sheer presence, or just his intimidating size, but
Louise certainly felt a lot safer with the detective around. And
everything he said did sound plausible.

She propped her forehead up against a hand, surprised to find she was
perspiring. If we go, and I dont like what we find at Banneths home,
then Im not going in to meet her.

Ivanov smiled gently. If its so bad that even you can see its wrong, I
wont let you go in.

Louise nodded slowly. All right. Ill go and fetch Gen. Can you book us
some tickets?

Sure. Theres a vac-train in thirty minutes. We can be at Kings Cross by
then.

She climbed to her feet, dismayed at how tired shed become.

Oh, and Louise? Appropriate clothing please.



The AI picked up the deluge of telltale glitches a few seconds before
frantic citizens started to bombard Edmontons police with emergency
datavises about the army of the dead that had risen to march through the
centre of the dome. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun shone down brightly
from an admirable storm-free sky, illuminating the scene perfectly. Cars
and metro buses performed emergency braking manoeuvres as their motors
jammed and power cells failed. Their occupants spilled out, sprinting
away from the advancing possessed and sect acolytes. Pedestrians hammered
against closed doors, desperate for admission.

Quinn had spent most of the afternoon carefully positioning his minions
along the four main roads leading to the sects headquarters. Ordinary
acolytes were easy: dividing them into pairs or threes, designating cafes
and shops where they should wait, keeping their weapons out of sight in
bags or backpacks. The possessed were more difficult; he had to identify
deserted offices or empty ground-floor apartments for them. A couple of
non-possessed acolytes whod been given basic didactic electronics
courses would break in and deactivate any processors they found, leaving
it safe for the possessed to wait inside. It had taken two hours to get
everyone into position. None of them complained, at least not to his
face. They all accepted that it was part of some grand strategy to bring
about his Night. The only thing standing in their way, he told them, was
the sect headquarters and the traitors inside.

With every possessed in Edmonton assembled (except one, Quinn thought
glumly), Quinn had given the order to advance. If the supercops were as
good as he suspected, then the response would be swift and effective.
None of the possessed, and few acolytes, would survive.

Quinn walked the first few paces with his small doomed army as they
flooded out into the streets, pulling out their weapons and taking on a
variety of gruesome appearances. Once everyone was committed, he
discreetly slipped away into the ghost realm.

Those civilians lucky enough to be behind the possessed when they emerged
slowed their retreat and glanced nervously over their shoulders. The more
commercially minded among them contacted local media offices and began to
relay sensevises. Anyone receiving the show was presented with an
astonishing display of defiance; the deliberate flaunting of a prowess
which even the possessed could never truly own. A magnificent final
charade, blowing their cover in a single grand fuck you gesture. Entire
offices of editorial staff froze in slack-jawed amazement at what they
were witnessing.

The marchers closed swiftly on the unexceptional fifty-storey skyscraper.
There were over a hundred in each of the groups, spearheaded by the
possessed. Elaborate, archaic warrior costumes sparked and flashed, ripe
with energistic power. Whenever they passed the pillars which supported
elevated roads, the air would seethe with wrestling coils of miniature
lightning bolts, grounding out through the metal amid jittering spumes of
molten droplets. Following close behind their silent deadly leaders, the
bulk of each group was made up by the non-possessed acolytes; striding
along blithely, weighed down by the largest pieces of weapons hardware
the covens had stashed away in their secret armouries.

None of them paid any attention to the whimpering civilians scampering
out of their way, they were focused on the skyscraper alone. Vehicles
littering the street ahead of them flared electric-blue before bursting
apart into a sleet of black granules. The army of the damned walked
through the smouldering wreckage. Again, it was all panache. Showtime.

To the majority of Edmontons citizens, the skyscraper that was the
centre of their wrath was just a modest, ordinary building divided into
standard commercial and residential sections. The police knew different,
as did most of the locals. Rumours of the sect presence inside began to
filter back to the media anchors. But by then professional rover
reporters were on the scene, watching the police seal off the area and
armed squads take up position.

Sixty per cent of Earths population was now on-line, waiting for the
shoot out. The greatest audience in history.

Inside the sect headquarters, the senior acolytes broke open the armoury
and began handing out heavy-calibre chemical projectile rifles and
machine guns to the acolytes. There was little panic; the beleaguered
sect members were almost glad they had a tangible enemy at last. Banneth
herself supervised setting up their defences. First she established a
ring of snipers peeking through the skyscrapers windows, then
consolidated their heavier firepower around the convoluted barriers
inside.

She hurried round all of them, issuing orders and offering
encouragementnever threats, not now. Quinn and the possessed had become
the new fear-figures. It was interesting that they had now returned to
her. After all Quinn had done to fill them with doubt and mistrust, the
random tortures and deaths he had silently enacted throughout the
headquarters had come to nothing in the end. They still believed that she
was the stronger of the two.

<< You realize this is probably a diversion, dont you? >>she asked. <<
Hes most likely planning to snatch me or kill me in the battle. >>

<< Possibly, >>Western Europe replied equitably. << Personally, I believe
this pathetic conflict hes staging is purely a case of collateral
slaughter while he achieves his real goal: escaping from our grasp. >>

<< Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better. >>

<< Frightened? You? >>

<< Wouldnt you be? >>

<< If I was physically in your position, no doubt I would, yes. But Im
not, am I? >>

<< Dont give me that natural superiority crap. >>

<< I apologise. >>

<< Very magnanimous. Does that mean youve got the SD platforms zeroed in
on me? >>

<< Im afraid so, yes. Again, I doubt if well have to use them. Quinn
wont reveal himself, not today. >>

Banneth took a look along the familiar darkened corridors of the
headquarters as she made her way back to her own rooms. On her orders,
they were lit with candles and crude chemical batteries powering
low-voltage halogen bulbstechnology the possessed would be unable to
glitch without considerable effort. Not that it particularly mattered,
she thought, were not protecting anything we can salvage. After this,
the headquarters would be no more. All her acolytes were doing was
fighting a delaying action until the police and B7 eliminated Quinns
ersatz invasion. But then, the sect was nothing more than a B7 creation
anyway. A convenient umbrella for them and her.

She walked through the temple giving it a nostalgic look. The first
rocket hit the skyscraper; a light EE tipped anti-armour missile. Duffy
fired it; Quinn had given him the honour of opening the fighting as a
reward for unswerving loyalty to the cause of Night. The explosion sent
shockwaves yammering through the skyscrapers structure, blowing out a
huge crater on the northern corner and shattering hundreds of surrounding
windows. Huge lumps of rubble cascaded down onto the street to smash
apart in front of the possessed. The surviving snipers inside picked
themselves up and opened fire.



The vac-train carriage had seating for a hundred. Louise, Genevieve, and
Ivanov Robson were the only people using it. In fact, Louise had only
seen a dozen or so people milling about on the platform at Kings Cross
when they got on. She wasnt sure if they were passengers or station
staff.

Despite her growing uncertainty, and Gens sulky resentment, shed
followed the private detective in through the airlock door. Even now
there was something about him that reassured her. Even beyond physical
size, he had a self-confidence greater than Joshua. Which was saying a
lot. She settled back with dreamy thoughts of her fianc filling her
mind. Although the seats were worn, they were comfortable; and her
alcohol suppresser program was off. Joshua had such a warm smile, she
remembered. It would be so nice to have it shine on her again.

I love you, and Im coming back for you. His words. Spoken to her when
they were naked and alone, their bodies clinging together. A promise that
could be nothing but totally honest.

I will find him again, despite all this horrid mess.

Her news hound program alerted her to the situation developing in
Edmonton. She went through Time Universe to access a sensevise of the
fight. And there she was, crouched behind one of the abandoned buses,
peering cautiously round the front at the crazy army marching along the
street. Dazzling white fireballs were pumping up from a dozen upstretched
hands, smacking into the skyscraper. Flames were roaring out of windows
and missile craters all the way up the first eight or nine stories.
Heavy-calibre guns were firing down in retaliation, pummelling the
carbon-concrete sidewalk with small intense topaz explosions. Several
bodies were scattered along the street, clothes still smouldering from
beam weapon scorches.

Figures began to race past the bus. Police in dark-grey armour suits,
hauling even larger automatic guns than those in use up ahead. Their
movements were arachnid, scuttling from cover to cover. They began to
fire; the discharge from their weapons a continuous howl ripping into the
delicate tissue of her inner ear. She started, hands halfway to her ears
before the reporters audio limiter program cut in. Then she was ducking
down as multiple explosions ploughed up the street. White fireballs flew
directly overhead.

Louise reduced the sensevise to monitor function, bundling it away until
it became a vivid real-time memory. She looked at Ivanov. Now what? she
asked. They wont let this train into Edmonton now, will they? Surely?

They ought to. Access the overview commentary. The possessed are
concentrated in one area, and the police have them contained. Theyve got
enough firepower concentrated on them to exterminate ten times as many as
there are on the ground. Besides, if we were being diverted, the train
company would have told us immediately.

Louise accessed the carriages processor, and requested a schedule
update. It reported that they were going to arrive in Edmonton in
forty-one minutes. That doesnt make any sense. The authorities were
paranoid about outbreaks before.

Its politics. Edmonton is trying to prove they dont have a problem
with the possessed; that theyre on top of the situation.

But

I know. They should have waited until after this fight is over before
any grand announcements. Being premature with the good news is hardly new
for Govcentral. As soon as the Edmonton isolation was announced, a lot of
highly connected lobbyists will have been called in to pressure the
presidents office and sympathetic senators to have the vac-train lines
re-opened. If Edmonton is taken out of the global economic loop, all the
companies in the arcology will start to fall behind their competitors;
and an entire arcology is a huge market for outside companies to sell
into; thats a factor, too.

Theyre endangering people because of money? Louise asked in
astonishment. Thats awful.

Welcome to Earth.

Dont they understand whatll happen if the possessed get into other
arcologies?

Of course they do. Now the possessed have been exposed in Edmonton,
therell be an equal amount of pressure applied to close the vac-trains
down again. Action and reaction, Louise.

You mean we might not get out after we arrive?

We will. Therell be enough time. I promised you: back home again in
five hours. Remember?

She glanced over at Gen, who was sleeping, curled up in the seat, her
small face scowling even as she dreamed. I remember. Not that there was
much she could do about her worries now. The train was going to stop in
the arcology. She hadnt felt this out of control since that first mad
horse ride away from Cricklade the day Quinn Dexter appeared.



That the fight around the skyscraper would be uneven was never in doubt.
Even so, the effectiveness of the police tactical team was impressive.
Heavy-calibre portable weapons deployed by the front line were backed up
by X-ray lasers from the rear support groups, far enough back to resist
glitching by the possessed. As a consequence, very few possessed actually
made it in to the skyscraper; and judging by the amount of gunfire coming
from inside, the sect members werent exactly a pushover. That was where
the commercial sensevise coverage ended. B7 immediately switched to the
surviving sensors in the headquarters, watching nervous, indistinct
figures creeping along dark smoke-filled corridors. One of them walked
over a grid with twenty thousand volts running through it. The body
ignited into a pillar of flame hot enough to melt the concrete corridor
around it.

Well, thats a neat trick, Northern Europe said. What kind of energy
level is that, do you think?

Could be total chemical conversion, Central America suggested. It
cant be a direct mass energy reaction. That would eliminate the entire
arcology.

Hardly relevant, South Pacific said.

On the contrary, Central America said. The more we learn of their
ability, the closer we come to defeating them.

You can hardly classify their death throes as part of their ability.

All information is useful, Western Europe said, deliberately bleeding a
note of snobbery in to his representations voice. We wouldnt have had
this kind of success without it.

Success? South Pacific pointed at the image above the conference table.
The possessed had burnt out, leaving a human sculpture of ash standing
amid the drizzle of molten carbon-concrete. It pitched over,
disintegrating into a slush of grey flakes. Thats a success; Edmonton
under siege from the possessed? May we please be preserved from your
failures.

By studying the data on Dexter we determined his likely course of
action. I told you hed betray the remaining possessed to us. This merely
proves I was right all along.

And Edmonton is not under siege, North America said. The police
tactical teams have the possessed surrounded.

Wrong, South Pacific said. That friend of Carter McBride wont be
among this group. You havent got him surrounded.

He is not a threat to anyone other than Dexter, Western Europe said.

Only in your book. As far as Im concerned, nothing has changed. One
invisible possessed and one elusive possessed are running round loose.
Your territories remain embargoed.

Thank heavens for that. We all know what would happen to Edmonton if you
had any say in events over here.

At least with my way only one arcology suffers. I cant believe youre
willing to expose another to Dexter.

You cant win at this level without taking risks. And I do intend to
win. Dexter is the epitome of all we have fought against these last five
hundred years. He is the yobbish anarchy that B7 has successfully
banished from this world. Ill not have him return. The investment in
blood and money it has cost us must be honoured.

You sound like a third-rate Shakespearean king the night before battle.
Damn, and you accuse me of arrogance.



Banneth walked back into her sanctum as the police tactical team searched
through the rest of the sect headquarters for any possessed that might
have survived the assault. She knew none had, but it wasnt her place to
interfere. The North American supervisor had given the police
commissioner instructions that she was to be left alone, along with her
suite of rooms. Senior officers had taken up position outside the doors
to enforce the order in case any of the tactical team turned bolshie.
People hyped high on adrenaline after a fight were liable to have a
healthy disregard for authority, especially where the possessed were
concerned.

The rest of the sect, those that had survived, werent so fortunate.
Police officers, while sympathetic to their erstwhile allies, were
disarming and cuffing them. The temple was proving a popular viewing
point for awed, angry officers. Quinns last two victims were still in
there on show. And when the forensic crew got to work theyd find an
awful lot of DNA samples around the altar and in the drains. It was going
to be a busy night down at Edmontons justice hall.

The sanctum was a wreck. A couple of lights had survived when the ceiling
cracked open, hanging on their cables, spinning slowly round and round.
Clear fluid from the life support canisters sloshed over Banneths shoes,
several centimetres deep and tinged with blood. Most of the canisters had
been smashed, spilling their bizarre occupants on to the floor. Their
tubules had invariably torn out, depriving them of the vital chemicals
she was feeding into them, leaving the poor creatures to flop their limbs
(those that had any) feebly until death overcame them. The organs and
appendages that were simply being suspended until she found a use for
them were ruined.

Banneth picked up the oil painting of Mary Shelley and tipped the broken
glass out of its frame. Life-support fluid had discoloured the canvas
quite badly. She stared at the authors drawn face for a moment, then
sighed and cast the painting aside. How poetic, she said quietly. Her
suspicions about the sanctum were strengthening. There was an awful lot
of damage considering it hadnt taken a direct hit. If the structural
quakes and blastwaves from the explosions had been this powerful they
ought to have brought down the entire skyscraper.

<< Louise Kavanagh has arrived, >>Western Europe said. << Please stick to
the scenario we worked out. >>

<< Sure. >>She knew her rebelliousness was coming through. Not that it
mattered. She certainly couldnt evade the supervisors. That was the
bargain shed shaken on all those years ago. Not that shed ever
suspected it would come to this: a suicide bait. But when you sign in
blood, you must expect the devil to write the small print in his favour.

<< Go down to one of the lower floors, >>Western Europe said. << I dont
want Louise to see your little dungeon of horrors. Its important she
isnt upset by you. >>

Banneth hesitated. Her legs quivered, a pointed reminder of what this
particular affinity bond was capable of. If she refused, they would
simply take her over and puppet her body.

<< Okay, Gods Brother Im doing it. Just dont expect me to smile and
say thanks. >>She turned slowly, gazing carefully round the ruins. One
last nostalgic look. A cool breeze drifted against her cheek, causing the
dangling lights to sway as they spun. The door was shut.

<< Is something the matter? >>North America asked.

<< No, >>she said, then relented. They could pick up on her emotional
state easily enough through affinity. << Possibly. I think he might be in
here with me right now. I have the feeling Im being watched. Its the
spookiest thing. >>She projected a starched ironic smile.

<< Call out, >>Western Europe said excitedly. << Challenge him. Provoke
him. Something. See if you can get him to materialize. We only need a
second. >>

Quinn? Is that you, my little darling? Are you here at last? Banneth
put out a hand and stroked the central table, fingers lingering on the
straps. Have you come home to me? Youre not afraid are you, my darling?
I made you better than that. Remember that beautiful pain that birthed
you. I cleansed you of fear amid that pain so you could serve Gods
Brother properly. And you have, havent you. How youve grown since I
banished you. The very messiah of darkness, now. Thats what you claim,
isnt it. But can you do what you claim, or have you become flawed? I can
correct that, Quinn, I can make you whole again. Submit to me. Return to
me, and Ill love you in that very special way. Our way. Just like
before. She held up the strap invitingly.

Quinn trembled in fury. He wanted to take her there and then. Every word
she spoke, each mocking syllable teased out the memories of what shed
done to him. This room had been the place where the real violations had
been performed. His screaming and her silken laughter mingling long into
the nights. The urge to reverse those acts made his serpent beast howl in
torment as he denied himself. She should be the one bound by those
straps. He should be the one standing over the table.

His hands reached out to her, ready to caress and crush.

An annoyed frown creased her face, verging on petulance. Its no good,
she muttered. The little prick cant hear me.

Quinn leaned closer, puzzled. It was as though she was talking to someone.

Banneth came to a decision, and strode out of the door, anger evident in
every tense muscle and furious grimace. Her mind-tone was sullen and
extremely fearful. It was similar to those Quinn had perceived in his
sacrificial victims. He followed her as she stomped through the
headquarters. Two police officers fell in beside her, escorting her down
the stairs. More proof of the treachery she had indulged in at the
expense of Gods Brother. As if he needed more.

They came to an office below the headquarters edifice itself. The place
belonged to an alcohol wholesaler, one of the sects commercial fronts.
And Quinn received the biggest shock of all since hed returned to Earth.
The Kavanagh sisters were there, waiting for Banneth.



Louise was amazed to find theyd arrived at the skyscraper featured on
the news sensevise. It did make her wonder about Ivanov Robson, though.
For a start, there was something very odd about the way he was always
right about things. And then there was this contact he had inside the
Edmonton police division. She could believe that hed worked with police
departments before, and no doubt a few favours were owed on both sides.
But to pass so effortlessly through the cordon of armed police around the
skyscraper was hard to credit.

Nonetheless, the major in charge of the tactical squad had been waiting
to greet them when their taxi pulled up fifty metres short from the rear
of the buzzing crowd. Now it was safe, thousands of Edmontons ordinary
citizens had flocked in to soak up whatever was left of the drama. Rover
reporters and several district councillors formed the inner wall,
pressing against the barriers, shouting and datavising the line of
implacable police for snatches of information, or pleading to be allowed
just that fraction closer than their rivals.

Six tactical team officers fell in around Louises party and cleared
their way through the tightly packed crowd. Inside the barriers, the fire
department was doing most of the work. Hoses snaked away from large
tenders, trailing down from mechanoids that were scampering across the
vertical walls of the skyscraper, extinguishing the last of the fires.
The police were concerned only in bundling the surviving combatants from
both sides into secure trucks so they could be driven away to the justice
hall. One of them, a girl younger than Louise, was sobbing hysterically,
kicking and bucking violently as four officers carried her to a waiting
truck. She screamed: The messiah lives! His Night will claim you all!
as they flung her unceremoniously inside.

Just as they were going in through the main entrance, three fully grown
pigs rampaged out, squealing and grunting as they raced down the broken
stairs towards the street. Sweating, angry officers chased after them.
Louise simply stood aside and let them go past; it was one of todays
milder insanities.

The major led them inside. Fire and explosions had wrecked the lobby.
Water and foam from the fire mechanoids was pooling underfoot. Lighting
came from temporary rigs set up at strategic corners. None of the lifts
or escalators were working. They went up four flights of stairs before
being shown into some kind of office that had escaped any serious damage.
Despite the fires, Louise felt chilly. The major left them, and a
strange-looking woman walked in.

At first Louise wasnt entirely sure she was a woman. Her jaw was strong
enough to be male, although her feminine figure countered the argument.
And the way she walked, straightforward easy strides, that was masculine,
too. The oddest feature was her eyes with their pink irises. When she
looked at Louise, there was no hint of what she was thinking.

I dont know who you people are, Banneth said. But you must have a lot
of clout to get in here right now. She stared at Genevieve. For the
first time her face betrayed an emotion. Very strange, she muttered in
puzzlement.

I have contacts, Ivanov said modestly.

Im sure you do.

My name is Louise Kavanagh. I called you earlier, about Quinn Dexter. Do
you remember?

Yes. I remember.

I think he may have done all this; or at least sent people to do it. He
told me he was coming back to Earth to get you. I did try and warn you.

Banneths gaze remained on Genevieve, who was fingering her pendant. So
you did. My mistake for not listening. Although as you can imagine, I
have good reason to be sceptical. Quinn was deported. I didnt expect to
see him again.

He really hated you. What did you do to him?

We had several disagreements. As you might have guessed, my occupation
is outside the mainstream. I earn a living by supplying certain items to
people, which cannot be bought through normal commercial channels. Its
an activity which has brought me into conflict with the police on several
occasions. Dear Quinn was one of my couriers. And he rather stupidly got
caught. That was the reason he was deported, in fact. I expect he blames
me for his sentence. I didnt contribute to his defence; at the time I
was using my contacts to protect myself. His incompetence landed me in a
very difficult legal situation. So you see, the antipathy is mutual.

Im sure it is, Louise said. But hes a possessed now, one of the
strongest. That makes him very dangerous, especially to you.

Banneth gestured round. Im beginning to appreciate that. Though Im
curious, why are you, someone Ive never met before, interested in saving
me? I guarantee, I really am someone a nice girl like you wouldnt want
to meet.

Louise was beginning to ask herself the same thing. Banneth was nothing
like the image in her mind; shed been expecting a slightly older version
of herself: innocent and bewildered. Not this cold, criminal woman, whose
every gesture and syllable was rich with disdain. He was obsessed with
you, and people need to be warned what hes capable of. Im frightened
that once hes murdered you, hell do to Earth what he did to Norfolk.
That was my home planet, you see.

How very noble and unselfish of you, Louise. Behaviour no one on this
planet is remotely accustomed to. Not in this day and age. She arched an
eyebrow at Ivanov. So what do you suggest I do now?

Im not sure, Louise said. I just had to deliver the warning, I
promised myself that. I didnt really think about afterwards. Can you
convince the police to give you a twenty-four hour guard?

I expect that if I told them a possessed was hunting me, theyd probably
show Quinn where I was, and laugh a lot while they were doing it. Ive
used up every contact and legal resource I had merely to avoid getting
arrested for the crime of being in the same building he attacked.

Then youll have to leave.

I can see this means a lot to you. But the police have killed every
possessed involved in the attack. I wouldnt worry. Quinn Dexters soul
is back where it belongs, suffering badly in the beyond.

You dont know that, Louise insisted. If any of them survived, itll
be him. At least leave here until the police confirm there are no more
possessed left in Edmonton. If they didnt get him, hell come after you
again. I know he will. He told me. Killing you is a filthy obsession with
him.

Banneth nodded. Reluctantly, Louise considered, as if there was something
demeaning in taking advice from her. What horrible snobbery. To think of
everything I risked in coming to her aid, not to mention the money its
cost. Not even Fletcher would have bothered if hed known how awful she
is.

I suppose theres no harm in playing it safe, Banneth said.
Unfortunately, Quinn knows all my associates and safe houses here in the
arcology. She paused. The vac-trains are open to half of Europe and
most of North America; though the rest of the world seems more sceptical
about Edmontons assurances. Good for them.

Were going back to London this evening, Ivanov Robson said. Do you
know anyone there you can stay with?

Like you, I have contacts.

Okay, I can arrange for a police tactical team to escort us back to the
station. But once we get to London, youre on your own.

Banneth gave an indifferent shrug.



Quinn watched the entire scene play out, resisting the impulse to
interfere at Banneths petty lies. He was captivated, not just by what
was said, but the emotional content behind the words. Louise backed every
word she spoke with intense fervour. Banneth was her usual serene,
egotistical self, a state she shared with the husky private detective
(which made Quinn highly suspicious of him). It was pure theatre. It had
to be. Yet it must be a paradox. Louise Kavanagh had no script, no
coaching; she believed what she was saying, that she had some higher
mission to save Banneth from him. That couldnt be forged. The entire
thing must have been orchestrated by the supercops.

For whose benefit? That was the really unnerving part.

There was no possible way Louise could have found Banneth unless the High
Magus wanted her to. The girl must have been steered here by the
supercops for one reason, to get Banneth out of Edmonton. Yet Banneth was
part of the supercop set-up, she didnt need Louise to tell her where to
go. It didnt make any sense.

One thing he couldnt ignore, the vac-trains were running again. Though
that might be the trap, the reason for this charade. To snare him on the
ocean bed halfway between continents; even he couldnt get out of that.
But how would they know if he was on board a specific train?

He followed the group out of the office and down the stairs, not really
paying much attention. His mind was savaging the possibilities. If they
could detect me when Im in this realm, they would have done everything
they could to destroy me. That means they cant. So this must be a ploy
to lure me out. The supercops know I want Banneth, so theyre using her
as bait. The vac-train isnt the trap; wherever she goes in London is
their kill arena. And thats where theyll be: this planets strongest,
most subtle line of defence against His Night.

Quinn smiled lustily and increased the speed of his gliding walk through
the ghost realm, determined not to let Louise and her party out of his
sight. After so many false starts, the true Armageddon was beginning.






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