He hadn’t expected quite so much resistance. Couldn’t they see the revolution was a success? That true democracy was coming?
A great many comrades wanted to march on these centres of defiance and bring the rich and privileged to their knees at the barrel of a gun. But there had been enough killing, so after they’d left the institute Slvasta had told Bethaneve to arrange a blockade of the boroughs that refused to cooperate with the People’s Interim Congress. After two days of armed struggle, food was already growing short in Varlan. ‘Let’s see how long the rich can eat their money for,’ was Slvasta’s message to his supporters.
In the meantime, those Democratic Unity members he’d appointed to represent the boroughs had arrived in the National Council building, and were finding themselves somewhere to sit among the splintered woodwork on the amphitheatre tiers. The number of women was heartening; before they’d been only a tiny number in the National Congress, now it was nearly half. He watched the new delegates jostling about good-naturedly as they hunted around for something to perch on, and he smiled at the three-strong team from Nalani who were shuffling sideways along the front tier. Javier grinned back and gave a quick, half-mocking salute. Slvasta thought his friend looked about as tired as he felt. There had been maybe three hours’ proper sleep in the last fifty hours.
‘How’s it going?’ he private ’pathed.
‘I think there would have been a lot more opposition to us nationalizing the railways if the railways actually worked,’ Javier replied. ‘None of the office staff complained when we went into their buildings and told them the government were their new owners – but then, all my aides are armed. They don’t quite believe this is real. Not yet. It’ll probably be different when the shock wears off.’
‘What about the owners?’
‘I’m sure they’re objecting,’ Javier chortled. ‘Wherever they are.’
Somewhere at the back of his mind Slvasta remembered Arnice telling him Lanicia’s family owned a lot of Grand South-Western Line stock. Uracus, I hope she’s all right. ‘There are a lot of people leaving Varlan. The roads are full with carts and cabs. And they say every boat leaving the quayside is packed to the gunnels. I didn’t expect so many to run away.’
‘Uracus take ’em. They’re the rich – people with country estates and second homes, crud like that. They’re parasites we’re better off without. None of the workers is leaving, not people who actually power the economy.’
‘The stallholders in the Wellfield,’ Slvasta reflected fondly.
‘Aye, they’re still here. Everybody we need to get the economy back up and running properly. And when we do, the workers will own the means of production.’
‘At last.’ It came out like a sigh from Slvasta’s mouth. It was hard to keep his eyes open in restful moments like this.
‘So have you got an agenda, prime minister?’
‘Oh, yeah. I think Bethaneve would have me carted off if I wasn’t prepared for this. We’ll start off with a vote on a planet-wide ban of all neuts and mods. Then I’m going to introduce an equality bill—’
‘You are crudding joking!’ Javier was abruptly on his feet, still private ’pathing, but staring hotly at Slvasta across the chamber.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘A mod prohibition? That’s our first law? You can’t be serious.’
‘What are you talking about? That’s what this was all about. Remember? The Fallers are our true enemy. Now that the Captain’s gone, we can hit them head on. And we start that war by getting rid of their creatures.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Bienvenido’s entire economy depends on them; every farm needs them to bring the crops in. If you want this Congress to be accepted outside Varlan, you have to be realistic.’
‘Varlan survived without mods and neuts.’
‘Survived, yes, because the city is stinking rich. It certainly didn’t prosper. Getting rid of the mods was an excellent piece of strategy for us back then. No, the first thing we have to do is restart the economy and bring back the prosperity we took away. That’s how we gain the support of everyone we’ve just spent two days scaring the crud out of.’
Slvasta felt his cheeks warming as he glared back at Javier. All he could see was the Ingmar-Faller looking up out of that terrible pit, the lies he pleaded with . . . ‘That was no mere political strategy. That was survival. No more neuts! They are evil. They are the Fallers’ creatures. They will overwhelm us if we don’t kill them first. Do you understand nothing?’
‘I understand perfectly. Get over your monomania or you will ruin us all! This revolution exists to improve the lives of everyone, and to do that we need mods. Playtime is over. This is life and death now.’
‘They will wipe us out!’ Slvasta was on his feet now, shouting furiously. ‘They will eat us. Is that what you want? Because if it is, you’re no better than the Captain was. A traitor to us, to your entire species!’
‘Fuck you! You didn’t lose an arm to the Fallers, you lost your brain! Without an economy, we can’t fight the Fallers. How is that difficult to understand? And don’t you ever call me a fucking traitor again, you crudding worthless bastard! You lost your arm because you were a shit trooper, too dumb even to recognize a Faller when you met her.’
‘Get the fuck out of my sight. You do not represent Nalani; you represent nothing. Nothing!’
Slvasta’s whole body was quivering in reaction to the argument. Yannrith’s hand fell on his shoulder. ‘Captain,’ he said in a warning tone. ‘This should not be happening. Not here.’
Javier spat on the floor, and stormed away. ‘This is not your revolution,’ he shouted at Slvasta, shaking his big fist. ‘It belongs to the people. The only person who’d deny that is a megalomaniac. The Captain would be proud of you.’
Slvasta could just detect a flurry of private ’paths spinning out of Javier’s mind. Over a dozen delegates were clambering to their feet, joining him as he stomped towards the nearest exit. ‘Bethaneve,’ he ’pathed. ‘Close the whole cell network to Javier; he’s trying to sabotage us.’
‘That’s not how it works,’ she protested. ‘What in Uracus is happening in there? What are you two idiots doing?’
‘Nothing.’ He took a breath to calm his quivering body and stared out at the remaining delegates, who were watching him with incredulous faces. ‘Well,’ he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a rueful grimace. ‘Welcome to true democracy.’
*
Kysandra leaned on the ferry’s gunnel, staring down at the thick mud-brown water of the Colbal. Her ex-sight probed down into it for a couple of metres or so, but that was as far as she could reach. Solids and liquids were a strong barrier to psychic perception, for which she was grateful. Three days ago, she had stood on the south bank, with tears running freely down her cheeks when the Lanuux and Alfreed had set off. Of all the terrible things that they’d done to manufacture the revolution, this was the most awful. Nigel had told her to wait in the Willesden station hotel where they were staying, but she simply couldn’t. Not facing up to this, to the consequences of their actions, was the worst sort of cowardice.
‘Other ships will come swiftly to help,’ Nigel said. ‘There are dozens making the crossing at any given time.’
‘We just have to stop the Meor from interfering with the cell comrades,’ Fergus said.
‘Okay, so why don’t we just sabotage the ferry engines?’ she’d asked. The Meor troopers weren’t bad people; they didn’t deserve this.
‘They’ll commandeer other ferries,’ Nigel said gently. ‘The Captain and Trevene know something is happening, that there’s an organized underground movement opposing them. They need the Meor in the city. We’re lucky there are two Faller alerts right now, and most of the Marines are away. They’re loyal and tough.’
So she’d stopped objecting, because it was logical and necessary, and she mustn’t be a stupid sentimental little girl. The fate of everyone on Bienvenido depended on the outcome of this day, and
that was all that mattered. And an hour later she watched the Lanuux and Alfreed sink below the water, leaving survivors floundering desperately in the river’s strong flow and lethal undercurrents.
Nigel had been right; every other ship on the Colbal did rush to help. But the troopers were wearing full uniforms and heavy boots, and the swift water was pitiless. In the end, they reckoned over three hundred troopers were plucked out of the river to safety – three hundred out of one and a half thousand. By then, the even more bloody revolution had kicked off in the city. Kysandra stayed on the riverbank, staring across the water, watching the fires flare, listening to the gunshots. She strengthened her shell against any giftings of the sadness and brutality and anguish that came slithering through the aether, along with the deluge of cries for help and mercy.
Now, three days later, they were crossing the river on a big barge. Ma Ulvon was in charge of the crew, standing in front of the wheelhouse, with her pump-action shotgun on a long shoulder strap, and bandoliers full of cartridges worn over her neat grey and blue jacket. Akstan and Julias were sitting in the two big wagons strapped to the deck that they were bringing to Varlan, keeping the terrestrial horses quiet and soothed. The carts were custom built, with tough suspension, and deep cradles inside their sturdy covered frames, ready to carry their prize back.
‘Typical,’ Nigel barked under his breath.
Kysandra looked up from the water where the wrecks of the ferries must be lying some ten or twelve metres down. She didn’t need a shell to guard against showing her emotions. The luxury of feelings was something she’d forbidden to herself since the revolution began. This must be how the ANAdroids think, she told herself. They saw, they understood, but they didn’t sympathize. They kept aloof; neither death nor beauty bothered them. Every response to life’s events a perfect forgery. It wasn’t a bad way to live. She saw now she’d been striving for something similar ever since Nigel arrived.
‘What is it?’ she asked him.
‘Slvasta. The People’s Interim Congress is being gifted in the spirit of democratic openness. He and Javier have had a very public bust-up.’
Kysandra shifted her gaze to the approaching city, seeing the imposing buildings rising up the slopes behind the river, but not really caring. Staying aloof – a high place where you couldn’t be hurt. ‘Really? I’m not taking giftings right now.’
He went over to her. ‘I should have made you stay at home.’
‘Made me?’
‘Insisted.’
‘But everything would still have happened, wouldn’t it? Everybody would still be dead.’
‘I’m sorry.’
For once she believed the melancholy voice, the sympathy expressed in those mesmerizing green eyes. ‘It’s not you. I just . . . didn’t think it through. I didn’t realize how big this was. I really am just a smalltown girl after all.’
His arm went round her shoulder. ‘You are so not. You are the smartest, most knowledgeable person on Bienvenido – after me.’
‘Pretty rough comment on Bienvenido.’
‘That’s my girl. Besides, bodyloss is terrible, but not fatal. In the Commonwealth, people just download their thoughts and memories into re-life clones. Here, souls fly to the Heart.’
‘Nigel.’ She gave him the look that said: Don’t patronize me. ‘If everything works the way you planned, you’re going to rip the Void apart. All those souls the Heart has stolen will die with it, so don’t use that to try and comfort me, okay?’
‘Quite right. So let’s use the truth: Laura Brandt has been created and died over a million times. The soul of everyone who ever made it to the Heart has been imprisoned and adapted into crud knows what to serve the Void somehow. There has never been an atrocity committed against the human race on this scale before, not ever. And that is what all the millions of people born here on Bienvenido will continue to face forever if we don’t stop them. You were prepared to sacrifice everything, including your life and your immortal soul, to liberate the unborn generations to come. You were ready for that because you knew it was worthwhile, that it was the right thing to do. I’m sorry about the deaths, truly I am. The Commonwealth exists so that everyone can have a chance at a decent life, and then migrate into a technological afterlife, and then maybe one day that too will transcend. I want the best for people; that’s all I’ve ever wanted, despite some pretty dubious methods I’ve used down the centuries. And the Void is a monster, the worst we’ve ever faced. It has to be destroyed, Kysandra.’
‘I know.’ Suddenly she was crying again, and hugging him tight. ‘I won’t let you down. Really I won’t.’
‘You haven’t and you couldn’t. You’re my touchstone, Kysandra. You’re what I look at every day to remind myself that this is worthwhile. I want to see you live, Kysandra; truly live. That’s what all this is for. So that you and your children have the same chance as every other member of our glorious, stupid, crazy species.’
She did what she’d always promised herself she wouldn’t do, and snuggled up close, rejoicing in the sensation of his arms around her, hearing his heart beating beneath his shirt, smelling his scent. His hand rubbed her spine absently.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
‘What for? I just said it like it is. You knew it already.’
‘For just that, being honest.’
‘It’s strange. So many people are desperate to get to the top, to be in charge. But, crud, the decisions you have to make when you’re there. That’s the part nobody ever warns you about.’
‘It’ll be different, won’t it, Nigel? Out in the Commonwealth?’
‘Yes. But please don’t think that a post-scarcity society is devoid of politics. There’ll still be backstabbing and manoeuvring and betrayal and ideological obsession – everything we excel in.’
Kysandra grinned, still not moving from his embrace. ‘You’re such a cynic.’
‘It’s our natural state. Just look at what’s happening with Slvasta.’
‘Huh! The idiot.’
‘The agreement was that in return for weapons he called a people’s congress to determine a democratic constitution.’
‘But that’s what he’s done.’ She frowned at him. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yeah. But a people’s congress doesn’t mean just his people.’
Kysandra stiffened in surprise. ‘He hasn’t!’
‘Oh, yes, he has. Every delegate is either a comrade or a Democratic Unity member. No dissenters allowed in his brave new world.’
‘But that’s . . .’
‘Typical. Partly my fault. I wanted a revolution in the city guaranteed to empty the Captain’s Palace. I maybe should have avoided the classic Leninist–Trotskyite model.’ He pulled a face. ‘Of course, it is a proven method, and we needed a result. But I did enjoy the irony.’
‘I can’t believe Slvasta did that. He was supposed to be a man of the people – the man of the people, actually. The one everybody could trust. That’s why we chose him.’
‘It doesn’t matter. He’s an irrelevance now that he’s fulfilled his role. One more week, and this will all be over.’
Kysandra regarded the city with renewed interest. The barge was a couple of hundred metres out from the quayside now. The broad road which ran behind the wharfs was crammed with people. There were a lot of families packed together there; men with anxious haunted faces, women trying to keep calm for the sake of exhausted frightened children. Every adult was either carrying a suitcase or wearing a backpack, in most cases both. Everywhere a boat was tied up had generated a dense knot of angry desperate people, emitting strong incoherent ’paths like flashes of lightning. No matter what the ship was, from a small rowing boat to the big ocean-going schooners, their armed crews stood stoically on the gangplanks, not letting anyone on board.
‘What are they doing?’ Kysandra wondered.
‘Holding an auction,’ Nigel said. ‘Passage goes to the highest bidder.’
‘That’s awful. The killing ha
s stopped. Coulan got the mobs to break up and go home yesterday.’
‘Our mobs,’ Nigel said sardonically. ‘Right now there are a lot of old scores being settled. Boss fired you from work a couple of years back? It was really unfair. Well, now’s your chance for payback. No sheriffs keeping order right now. No officials you can turn to for help. Good time to go looting, too. And you need to loot, if you want your family to eat, because food’s running short. No trains bringing more, remember?’
‘Uracus!’
They saw Coulan and a large squad of heavily armed militia waiting at an empty wharf. The barge steered over to it and tied up. There was a surge of hopeful people along the quayside. The silent, stone-faced militiamen on guard at the end of the wharf stopped them getting anywhere near the gangplank.
Kysandra stood on tiptoes to give the ANAdroid a quick kiss. ‘You made it okay?’
‘I’m intact, yes.’
‘Everything ready?’ Nigel asked brusquely.
‘I’ve had my militia guard them since we stormed the palace. Slvasta and Javier are butting heads in the Interim Congress, and Bethaneve is trying to manage the blockades around the posh boroughs that simply won’t do as they’re told. We just need to go and collect them.’
‘Good.’
Kysandra gave the desperate refugees on the quayside a concerned look. ‘What about the residents?’
‘The guns are off the street,’ Coulan said. ‘Most of them, anyway. Not that it matters. They don’t have much ammunition left. We calculated that about right.’
‘I didn’t mean that. What about food? Hospitals? There were hundreds injured, I know. What are the victorious comrades doing about getting everything working again?’
‘They just have to hang on for a week,’ Nigel said.
‘And if it doesn’t work?’
‘It will.’
‘Really? We have James Hilton, in case you’re wrong. Nigel, you can’t abandon these people, not now. They’re desperate for some kind of order; Uracus, half of them are desperate just for a meal, and Slvasta’s Congress of Morons is busy debating ideological purity and awarding themselves important titles. The city needs practical help.’ She waved an arm at the crowds. ‘You created this. You’re the one with all the experience of managing billions of people – apparently. Do something!’
The Abyss Beyond Dreams Page 61
