His filaments interface with the registry kube in the pedestal.
Send authority certificate.
The registry software acknowledges Viertz’s authority. And the u-shadow runs a search for Inigo’s secure store. It locates the memorycell. The physical coordinates are loaded into Aaron’s combat routines. A volume of eight cubic centimetres to be held inviolate. The rest of the vault’s structure is now expendable.
He lets go of the pedestal and Viertz. The woman slumps forward, a motion which jolts her unsecured brain. A fresh upwelling of blood bubbles out around the circle of cut bone. The protective swirl of niling-sponges deactivate, their black horizons folding in upon themselves. Aaron raises his head and smiles an animal snarl through the clear air at the guards. Their barrage has paused as they take stock.
‘Payback time,’ he growls enthusiastically.
The first disruptor pulse smashes out. Half of the precious racks rupture in a maelstrom of molten plastic. Both guards stagger backwards. Jelly gun shots hammer at their force fields. Energy-dumpers zip about, launched by both sides. Black niling horizons expand and contract like inverse novas. Kinetic projectiles chew into the vault’s concrete and marble walls. More racks suffer, shattering like antique glass. The plastic catches fire, molten rivulets streaking across the floor, spitting feeble flames from their leading edges.
Aaron positions himself between the guards and Inigo’s memorycell, shielding it from any possible damage. He manages to puncture the force field of one guard’s leg and fires the jelly gun into the gap. The leg instantly transforms to a liquid pulp of ruined cells. The guard screams as he topples over. His force field reconfigures over the stump, allowing the blood and gore to splash across the ground where it starts to steam softly. Energy-dumpers attach themselves to him like predatory rodents. He thrashes about helplessly as his force field diminishes.
Now it is just Aaron and the remaining guard. They advance on each other, each trusting in his own weapons enrichments. This is no longer a battle of software or even human wits. It is brute strength only which will prevail now.
At the end they resemble two atomic fireballs colliding. A shockwave of incandescent energy flares out from the impact, vaporizing everything it touches. One fireball is abruptly extinguished.
Aaron stands over the clutter of charcoal which seconds before was his opponent. While still staring down he extends his good arm sideways. An x-ray laser muzzle emerges from his forearm. Its beam slices through the head of the legless guard. Curves up to annihilate the man’s memorycell. Aaron lets out a long sigh, then winces at the dull pain throbbing deep in his shoulder. When he glances at it, the bloodstain has spread across most of his chest. The hole torn and burned through the suit fabric reveals nothing but a mangled patch of blackened skin seeping blood. His medical monitors report the firewire tangles have burrowed deep, the damage is extensive. Sharp stabs of pain from his left leg make him gasp. His knee almost gives way. Biononics act in concert to trace and eliminate the microjanglers that are cruising recklessly through his bloodstream. If they infiltrate his brain he will be in serious trouble. The medical sac is still pumping drugs into him to counter shock. Blood loss will become a problem very soon unless he can reach a medical facility. However, he remains functional, though he will have to undergo decontamination for the nerve agent. His biononics are not satisfied they have located all the toxin. The field scan function fine tunes itself, and scans again.
Aaron walks over to the rack containing Inigo’s memory-cell. Niling sponges flutter through the air, and return to his bandolier, snuggling back into their pouches. His feet crunch on a scree of fragments before squelching on blood and plastic magma. Then the memorycell is in his hand, and the most difficult stage of the mission is over.
Flames are taking hold across Viertz’s uniform as he walks out of the vault. She has not moved from her kneeling position. Aaron shoots her through the head with the x-ray laser, an act of mercy in case her memorycell is still recording impulses. It’s not like him, but he can afford to be magnanimous in the face of success.
Three minutes later Aaron made it out on to the roof of the administration block. He walked over to the edge, drawing breath in short gasps. The numb shoulder wound had started to coldburn, radiating out waves of dizziness which his medical enrichments could barely prevent from overwhelming him. A terrible burst of pain from his legs, stomach and spine drilled into him, blinding him as he convulsed. Unseen in his exovision displays, the biononics reported progress in their quest to trace and eliminate the remaining elusive microjanglers still contaminating his blood.
Slowly, stiffly, he straightened up again. Teetering close to a two-storey fall. His u-shadow reconnected to the unisphere as soon as he clambered up out of the lift shaft, and reported that the remnant of the smartcore was yelling for help on just about every link the clinic had with the unisphere.
‘Police tactical troops are responding,’ the u-shadow informed him. ‘Clinic security officers are arming themselves. Perimeter is sealing.’
‘We’d better leave then,’ Aaron said with bravado. He winced again at a shiver of phantom pain from his collar bone, and called Corrie-Lyn. ‘Let’s go. I’m at designated position one-A.’
‘Oh,’ she replied. ‘Are you finished already?’
For a moment he thought she was joking. ‘What?’
‘I didn’t realize you’d be that quick.’
Anger swiftly turned him to ice. The schedule he’d given her was utterly clear-cut. Not even the unexpected guards and subsequent fire fight had delayed him more than forty seconds. ‘Where are you?’ His exovision was showing him a local map with the police cruisers closing on the clinic at mach eight.
‘Er … I’m still in the reception area. You know they have some really nice clothes here, and Ruth Stol has actually been quite useful with styling. Who’d have thought it? I’ve already tried on a couple of these lovely wool—’
‘Get the fuck into the capsule! Right fucking now!’ he screamed. Tactical software assessed the situation, corresponding with his own instinct. The roof was far too exposed. Another involuntary shudder ran up his legs, and he went with it, tumbling over the edge, totally reliant on his combat software. The program formatted his force field to cushion his landing. Even so, the pain seemed to explode directly into his brain as he thudded into the ground. He rolled over and stumbled to his feet. Far too slowly.
‘The doors won’t open,’ Corrie-Lyn said. ‘I can’t get to the capsule. The alarm is going off. Wait … Ruth is telling me not to move.’
Aaron groaned as he staggered erratically across the band of lawn surrounding the administration block. Not that the trees would provide the slightest cover, not against the kind of forces heading for him. Seeking darkness was a simple animal instinct.
‘Take the bitch out,’ he told Corrie-Lyn.
‘What?’
‘Hit her. Here’s a combat program,’ he said, as his u-shadow shunted the appropriate file at her. ‘Go for a disabling blow. Don’t hesitate.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Hit her. And call the capsule over. It can smash through the doors for you.’
‘Aaron, can’t I just get the capsule to break in? I’m really not comfortable hitting someone without warning.’
Aaron reached the treeline. His legs gave way, sending him sprawling in the dirt and spiky vines. Pain that was nothing to do with the microjanglers pulsed out from his damaged shoulder. ‘Help,’ he croaked. ‘Oh fuck it, Corrie-Lyn, get the capsule here.’ He started crawling. His exoimages were a blurred scintillation coursing round his constricting vision.
‘Hey, she’s grabbed me.’
‘Corrie-Lyn—’
‘Cow!’
‘I can’t make it.’ He pushed against the damp sandy soil with his good arm, trying to lever himself back on to his feet. Two police capsules flashed silently overhead. A second later their hypersonic boom smashed him back down into the ground. Tree
branches splintered from the violence of the sound. Aaron whimpered as he rolled on to his back.
‘Oh, Ozzie, there’s blood everywhere. I think I’ve broken her nose. I didn’t hit her hard, really.’
‘Get me,’ he whispered. He sent a single command thought to the niling-sponges in his bandolier harness. The little spheres soared away into the night, arching away over the waving trees. Violet laser beams sliced through the air, as bright as lightning forks. He grinned weakly. ‘Wrong,’ he told the unseen police capsules.
The niling-sponges sucked down the energy which the capsules pumped into them. Theoretically the niling effect could absorb billions of kilowatt hours before reaching saturation point. Aaron had programmed a limit in. When the police weapons pumped their internal levels to that limit, the absorption effect reversed.
Five huge explosions blossomed high over the forest, sending out massive clashing pressure waves. The police capsules couldn’t be damaged by the blast, their force fields were far too strong for that. But the wavefronts sent them tumbling through the night sky, spinning and flailing out beyond the edge of the forest as the regrav drives fought to counter the force. Down below, trees tumbled before the bedlam as if they were no stronger than paper, crashing into each other to create a domino effect radiating out from the five blast centres.
A blizzard of splinters and gravel snatched Aaron off the ground and sent him twirling five metres to bounce badly. Amazingly he was still holding the memorycell as he found himself flat on his back gazing up into a sky beset with an intricate webbing of lambent ion streamers.
‘Corrie-Lyn,’ he called desperately.
Above him, the pretty sky was dimming to infinite black. There were no stars to be seen as the darkness engulfed him.
Inigo’s fourth dream
After breaking camp just after dawn the caravan was on the road for three hours before it finally topped the last ridge and the coastal plain tipped into view. Edeard smiled down on it with an adrenaline burst of enthusiasm. With nearly a year spent travelling he was finally looking at his future. Riding on the ge-horse beside him, Salrana squealed happily and clapped her hands together. Several pigs in the back of O’lrany’s cart grunted at the sudden noise.
Edeard ordered his ge-horse to stop. The caravan pushed on inexorably, wagon after wagon rolling down the stony road. Directly ahead of him the foothills of the Donsori Mountains fell away sharply to the awesome Iguru Plain below. It stretched away for mile after long mile. A flat expanse of rich farmland, almost all of which was under cultivation; its surface marked out in huge regular fields filled with verdant crops. A massive grid of ditches fed into wide, shallow rivers delineated by protective earthen embankments. Forests tended to sprawl around the lower slopes of the odd little volcanic cones which broke the plain’s uniformity. As far as he could see there was no pattern to the steep knolls. They were dotted purely at random.
It was a strange geography, completely different to the rugged surrounding terrain. He shrugged at the oddity and squinted to the eastern horizon. Part imagination, part horizon-haze, the Lyot Sea was just visible as a grey line.
No need to imagine the city, though. Makkathran bestrode the horizon like a sunwashed pearl. At first he was disappointed by how small it was, then he began to appreciate the distance involved.
‘Quite something, isn’t it?’ Barkus said as he rode his aged ge-horse level with Edeard.
‘Yes, sir,’ Edeard said. Additional comment seemed superfluous. ‘How far away are we?’
‘It’ll take at least another half a day for us to get down to the plain; this last stretch of road down the mountains is tricky. We’ll make camp at Clipsham, the first decent-sized town on the Iguru. Then it’ll be near enough another day to reach Makkathran itself.’ He nodded pleasantly and urged his ge-horse onward.
Almost two days away. Edeard stared entranced at the capital city. Allegedly, the only true city on Querencia. The caravan had visited some fabulous towns on their route, large conurbations with wealthy populations; several had parks bigger than Ashwell. At the time he’d thought them grand, sure that nothing could actually be larger. Lady, what a bumpkin I am.
‘Doubts here, of all places?’ Salrana asked. ‘Those are some very melancholy thoughts you’ve got growing in your head there.’
‘Just humbled,’ he told her.
Her thoughts sparkled with amusement, producing a teasing smile. ‘Thinking of Franlee?’
‘Not for months,’ he answered with high dignity.
Salrana laughed wickedly.
He’d met Franlee in Plax, a provincial capital on the other side of the Ulfsen Mountains. A spree of bad luck on the road, including broken wheels and sick animals, as well as unusually early autumn storms meant the caravan was late reaching Plax. As a consequence, they’d been snowed in for over six weeks. That was when he met Franlee, an Eggshaper Guild apprentice and his first real love affair. They’d spent most of the awful cold weather together, either in bed or exploring the town’s cheaper taverns. The Eggshaper Guild’s Master had recognized his talent, offering him a senior apprenticeship with the promise of journeyman status in a year. He’d been this close to staying.
But in the end his last promise to Akeem gave him a stronger direction. Leaving had been so painful he’d been sullen and withdrawn for weeks as the caravan lumbered slowly along the snowy Ulfsen valleys. A misery to live with, the rest of the caravan had grumbled. It took the remainder of winter and putting the Ulfsens between himself and Plax before he’d recovered. That and Roseillin, in one of the mountain villages. And Dalice. And … Well, several more girls between there and here.
‘Look at it,’ he said earnestly. ‘We did the right thing.’
Salrana tipped her head back, half-closing her eyes against the bright morning light. ‘Forget the city,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen so much sky.’
When he glanced up he understood what she meant. Their high vantage point gave them a view into the azure infinity which roofed the plain. Small bright clouds scudded far overhead, wisps so tenuous they were almost sapphire themselves. They seemed to twist as they traced long arcs above the Iguru before hitting the mountain thermals where they expanded and darkened. The wind above the city always blows in from the sea, he remembered Akeem saying, when it turns round, watch out. ‘What’s that smell?’ he asked, puzzled. The air was fresh, zingy almost, yet somehow tainted at the same time.
There was laughter from the wagon that rolled past. ‘You backward village boy!’ Olcus, the driver, mocked. ‘That’s the smell of the sea.’
Edeard dropped his gaze back down to the horizon. He’d never seen the sea before. In truth, from this distance it didn’t look much: a grey-blue smudge line. He supposed it would become more interesting and impressive as they drew nearer.
‘Thank you, old man,’ he called back, and supplied a fast hand gesture. By now, he was on good terms with just about every family in the caravan. Abandoning them in Makkathran was going to be at least as hard as leaving Plax.
‘Come on,’ Salrana said. She ordered her ge-horse forward. After a moment, Edeard followed suit.
‘I was talking to Magrith at breakfast,’ Salrana said. ‘She told me this road was the same one which Rah travelled on when he led his shipmates out of the strife which followed their landing on Querencia. He would have seen the city for the first time from this very same spot.’
‘Wonder what he made of the Iguru,’ Edeard muttered.
‘There are times when I really don’t understand you, Edeard. We’ve reached Makkathran, which I only ever half-believed in anyway. Us two, Ashwell villagers no less, are here at the centre of our whole world. And all you do is talk about the stupid farmland outside.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s … this place is odd, that’s all. Look round, the mountains just end, like something cut them off.’
‘I’m sure there’s a Geography Guild if you’re that interested,’ she sniffed.
‘Now that’s an
idea,’ he said with sudden apparent interest. ‘Do you think it would be hard to get into?’
‘Oh!’ she squealed in exasperation. Her third hand shoved against him, trying to push him off his saddle. He pushed right back, which sent her hunching down, tightening her grip on the reins. ‘Edeard! Careful.’
‘Sorry.’ It was something of a standing joke along the caravan that he didn’t know his own strength. He shook his head and concentrated on the phalanx of genistars walking alongside the caravan, making sure the ge-horses were pulling wagons in a straight line, ge-wolves kept close, and the ge-eagles spiralled wide. The surface of the road was excellent, laid with large flat stones, well maintained – it was almost like a town pavement. But then this was the main road through the mountains and led directly to the capital. Both eyes and farsight picked out several wagons and small convoys winding their way up and down the broad switchbacks ahead of them. He also saw a group of men on horseback accompanied by ge-wolves who were picking their way leisurely up the road. They’d reach the head of the caravan by noon, he reckoned.
With his senses open wide he slowly grew aware of the city’s emanations. It was a quiet background burble, similar to the aura of any human settlement. Except this time he was too far away to be sensing Makkathran’s population, no matter how talented and receptive he was. Besides, this had a different tempo to human minds; slower and so much more content. It was the essence of a lazy summer’s afternoon distilled into a single long harmonic. Pleasant and relaxing. He yawned.
‘Edeard!’ Salrana called.
He blinked, the worry in her mind switching him to full alertness. His ge-horse was meandering close to the edge of the road. Not that it was dangerous, there was no sheer slope until further down the hill where the switchbacks began, here there was just uneven ground and the curving crest. A quick couple of instructions to the ge-horse’s mind corrected his direction.
‘Let’s try and arrive intact,’ she said scathingly. ‘Lady, but your riding is still terrible.’
The Dreaming Void Page 35
