The Beauty of Our Weapons

by Jilly Paddock

  What possessed you to do that? Zenni demanded, aghast. To invade a mind at the point of death—it might have driven you mad!

  We need everything we can get on the Sisterhood. To keep one jump ahead of them I had to get us that data.

  At the risk of your life?

  Without it, we’re just as dead. I let go of Nansi’s hand and as it hit the floor, a link snapped in the tattooed bracelet. There was a sharp pop! and a flash of blinding white light. I recoiled as if I’d been bitten by a snake. “What the hell?”

  It was a communication device, the signal a quantum package. Transmission is all but instant, like teleportation. By now the message will have arrived at its destination.

  Which is where?

  Zenni sighed. There’s no way to tell. It’s impossible to track the package—it’s gone too fast.

  “Joyeuse?” I tasted the forbidden name. It had a sharp, bitter flavour.

  A world in the Cluster, a low-tech, agrarian planet.

  “Illustrium, the dark-walled city, stronghold of the Sisterhood.” More arcane knowledge fell clumsily from my tongue. Shall we go there?

  Not today.

  I picked up the bracelet, holding it gingerly between my nails. A neat gash encircled Nansi’s wrist where the device had been embedded in her skin. The thing itself was a fine chain of black metal, feather-light, still at body temperature. As I held it closer to the flashlight it disintegrated, falling into fine powder.

  Obviously primed for a single-shot message, keyed to the death of its wearer, or maybe host would be a better term. Zenni deduced. I think we can assume that the Sisterhood now know of the demise of Nansi Ruhanna. EI are experimenting with a similar method of keeping track of their agents.

  How odd, the parallels on opposing sides. I felt faint again, overwhelmed by the horror I had seen and wreaked here. I’m coming up to Brimstone. Help me!

  Zenni had to put most of the effort in, as this last exertion was almost too much for me. I pitched onto the deck, drained beyond rational thought. As I see-sawed on the brink of insensibility, a giant invisible hand lifted me with infinite tenderness and deposited me into the pilot’s couch. There was an odd buzzing in the link and I watched with blurring eyes as the med-kit appeared and folded itself back into the arm of the seat. Fresh supplies to replace those I’d used flew through the air and stowed themselves in their proper places. The flashlight winked into existence, turned itself off and made a soft landing in its home locker. I blinked rapidly, trying to shake the dull dream-state that held me.

  “It isn’t hallucination, Anna,” my partner said, amused. “It’s me.”

  “You can’t use psionics on your own. One of EI’s safeguards—can’t let the wicked computers loose with powers like that.”

  “Unless you’re unconscious or very near to that state. Jeb re-wrote my programming, remember? We thought it might be life-saving in a crisis.”

  “Thank you both for your foresight.” I found some small reserve of energy and eased the fatigue back, although I knew it couldn’t last long. “What’s our status?”

  “We’ve left Tambouret orbit, on course for Earth. I put in a call to the ground-based emergency services, but it might be a little while before they get a team into Lowkrys. They’ve extra helpings on their plates tonight, what with the havoc almost caused by Nansi and the cultists.” Zenni hummed for a moment, trimming Brimstone’s flight-path. “I did remember to remove all traces of us from the magician’s fortress.”

  “Except the odd body or two?” I said, angry that EI drove me to such lengths. “How was Draoi when we left?”

  “Weak, but stable. I predict his survival until help reaches him.”

  “I should have ’ported him up to the nearest orbital and put him in hospital.”

  “You were far too exhausted to do that.” He became wary. “You still are.”

  “I know, I know.” I smiled sheepishly. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to get carried away in some more misplaced heroics. Before we get too far from Tambouret, I suppose I ought to send my thanks to the Vice-consul?”

  “I’ve synthesised a voice-only message.” Zenni confessed. “It’s ready to go.”

  “How like you to tie up all the loose ends! It’s not too ingratiating, I hope?”

  “It’s appreciative, not gushing. I’ve tried to predict your sentiments.”

  “Send it.” I waited as he ran the message. “How soon can we get back to Earth?”

  “About the best we can do is three days. Brimstone has a better drive-unit than our old Firebird had—she would have taken five, which is still quicker than the commercial liners, who do the Earth-Tambouret run in seven days.”

  “Three days?” I plucked the figure out of the over-abundance of data. “I hope that’s soon enough for Chandre and the others.”

  “So do I.” He left unspoken the fear we shared, that everything we’d been through and all of the risks we’d taken might still have been in vain. “You leave the passage to me, Anna, and get some rest.”

  How could I argue with such sterling advice?

  Chapter Sixteen: That Sorcery would Triumph over Science

  We touched down at SanFran port at midday, in the middle of a cloudburst and an argument. Our verbal combat had been in full flow for the best part of an hour, with a few brief pauses whilst Zenni coped with Brimstone’s landing routines and I coped with dressing and breakfast. There seemed to be no end to our warring; the battle had begun a day out of Tambouret, with a flurry of acrimony here and a barrage of snide insults there, after which both of us ducked into the double trenches of intransigence and inflexibility to the other’s viewpoint. Now we fought on with the dulled passion of veterans, neither prepared to admit that the other was right.

  “You’re a damned stubborn bitch, Anna, with all the common sense of a virus!” Zenni declared, driven to the edge of exasperation. “That stab wound of yours has turned septic, your entire arm is swollen and painful and you’re running a high fever, yet still you insist on going out to Lindsay first, when you ought to be headed straight to the port’s medical facilities. Why can’t you see reason?”

  “If I go to casualty, they’ll whip me into the city hospital before my feet can touch the ground.” I winced as I changed the bandage on my hand, keeping the palm angled away from my partner’s photoeye so that he couldn’t see the growing extent of the red, inflammed area.

  “Which wouldn’t be a bad idea! You’re ill, Anna! Are you too blind to see that?” His synthesised voice shook with unaccustomed anger. “Must you push yourself to the edge of collapse before you unbend your ridiculous pride enough to ask for help?”

  “My feelings have nothing to do with it.” I picked up the precious pouch, in my left hand. “Three lives depend on this getting to Delany, two of them our friends. I can’t afford any more delay—must I remind you of that? I have to go to Lindsay first, but it won’t take long and I promise I’ll get treatment for this immediately afterwards. You always do worry too much, partner.”

  “One of us has to.” He was reluctant to give way, but I’d forced him to. His tone softened. “Take care, Anna. I’ll be watching over you.”

  I deliberately jumped short, landing on the hillside to the east of the Delany site, where a roadside prospect afforded a view of the sprawling community of Lindsay. Growing up here I’d always considered the place rather dull; I saw it now as it really was, quiet and full of peace, a safe haven. Here the sun was still shining, the thunderstorms over SanFran a lowering black anvil in the sky far to the north. I leaned on the stone wall filling my lungs with fresh air, the vibrant, sweet air of Earth, so different to the tainted canned variety we carry in our flimsy cockleshell craft, basic breathing-stuff to sustain us in the void, and I worked at shifting my headache. I was loath to admit it, but Zenni was right. Today I belonged to the medics, not out here on active service. My arm was red-hot and tender, and so painful that I was forced to hold it stiff and move it only when absolutely nece
ssary. My fever was rising, my cheeks taut and burning, my eyes hollow and sore, my head like an empty, echoing bell. Zenni saw all of this even as I felt it, and his disapproval was acid-cold. The warm breeze that was the messenger of the storm-front steadied me and, as the clouds stretched out to swallow the sun, I took the final step of my journey.

  Maire sat at her screens and I had the disconcerting feeling she hadn’t stirred from them for all the time I’d been away.

  “How are they?” I asked quietly.

  This time I’d surprised her. She spun around, turquoise eyes stretching wide. The alarm in them fled as she saw it was me and her lips contracted to a thin line. I couldn’t keep up my pretence in the face of a professional—she recognised my poor state of health for what it was. “They’re in fair shape, which is more than I can say for you, my girl! Surely you should be in the hands of the doctors this very minute!” She surveyed me once more, from head to foot. “What in the world have you been about, Anna? Whatever did you do to that poorly arm?”

  “You’ve no doubt heard the cliché it’s a long story?”

  She stood up. “Sit yourself down here and I’ll get someone to take a look at you.”

  “Please, not yet. Is there anyone on the unit? I need a few moments alone with your charges.”

  She looked doubtful, scanning the readouts with half an eye. “You really should get urgent treatment for that arm, Anna, believe me.”

  “I do, but I’m not likely to drop dead in the next few minutes, am I? Please, Maire, give me that long, at least.” I begged. “If you do, there’s a chance I can get them to wake.”

  Hope melted her frown. “If you promise not to vanish like the morning dew when you’re done with them, I’ll grant you a five minute audience.”

  I contrived to look chastened at her mock ferocity. “I promise, Maire.”

  Her hovering grin finally broke. “Get on with you, lass! The ward’s clear until the medics do their afternoon rounds, which gives you the best part of fifteen minutes. Don’t waste it.”

  The unit was also unchanged, Maire’s three babies sleeping in their clinical white nursery, locked in the prisons of their frozen bodies. These places always depressed me, to see people reduced to such infantile dependence on machinery and nursing staff, and the hurt was worse when the recipients were friends. I was conscious of Maire watching me on her screens, but I put that to the back of my mind and undid the thong of the pouch, levitating the trio of jewels out into the artificial daylight.

  Back aboard Brimstone I’d examined the gemstones—with my hefty dose of feline curiosity, how could I resist the temptation of looking at my treasure? I knew each one well. First came the dodecahedron of quartz, clear and colourless as water, with an oddly-shaped stellar flaw at its centre. Second was the die of amber, a liquid sunset frozen forever into a warm golden ice-cube. Last of all, the cabochon ruby, a fallen crimson teardrop with a vivid inner radiance. A trio of wonders, each beautiful in its own fashion, but to which of the sleepers did each belong? I’d spent hours pondering that question on the wearisome journey back from Tambouret, sometimes sane and rational, sometimes with the urgent clarity of fever, sifting all the clues I could out of Druj’s seemingly random choice of gemstones. I believed I had a solution. As I approached Meeka, steering the three gems in front of my face, I prayed to Jeb’s patron goddess that my gut feeling wouldn’t play me false now.

  I let the clear droplet of quartz fall and it landed on the girl’s forehead like a feather, the grey flaw at its heart taking on the aspect of a five-pointed star. The gemstone quivered at the contact, sending a palpable thrill of energy through the leaden air. It lay there on her cinnamon skin for a moment, casting a pastel rainbow across her eyelids, and then it was gone, flowing through flesh and bone as if they were no barrier at all. For one precious second it seemed that sorcery would triumph over science and she would wake. I held my breath and Zenni’s anticipation trembled in the link, then the moment passed. Meeka slept on, her coma unbroken.

  Shelving the dull, sinking sensation that the demon lord had betrayed me at the last, I moved on to the next bed. Lyall’s skin was slick with the sweat of nightmare, caught on an endless treadmill of horror, yet his mind was empty, free of the painted shadows of dream. The amber melted into his skull with another bright vibration of power, yet failed to fill the void of his thoughts. With an exponential leap in misgivings, I progressed to the final sleeper. The ruby settled on Chandre’s brow like a malevolent third eye, winking derision at me, then it too was gone.

  I’d pinned so much hope on this moment that the absence of reaction was the last straw. My three innocents lay as if dead, with no obvious change in their mental state. The leather pouch fell from my nerveless fingers and I swayed, clutching at the foot of Chandre’s bed for support. Maire appeared at my elbow and only her practised strength kept me on my feet.

  “I’ve failed.” The words were bitter gall in my mouth, slicing through my faint. “I can’t help them.”

  “You silly girl, your senses are muddled!” Maire was flushed, her cheeks aglow with delight under their freckles. Her smile was honest, yet I placed it as false. “You’ve worked a miracle, you and your bonny partner! There seems no change, but I feel it in my bones that they’ll wake. After magic like that, how could they not?”

  “We’ve failed.” Her fair words slid past my ears and I dismissed them as honey-tongued lies. The sense of purpose that had carried me this far dissolved as I realised that all my torment had been for nothing, all my hopes nothing more than vain dreams. My knees gave way and without Maire’s hold on my good arm I would have fallen. She opted for surrender to gravity, lowering me carefully to the floor and leaning me against the foot of the bed.

  “Rest easy there, Anna.” She peered into my face, squinting with concern. “I’ll get you some help.”

  “No!” The illegal nature of my presence here loomed through the haze. “You’ll get into trouble. No-one must know I’ve been here! Mustn’t be found at Delany, mustn’t tell Collins or Dr Ayres—”

  My intention must have been transparent to her and her fingernails bit into my flesh. “You can’t teleport out! Don’t even think of it! Zenith, you in there, listen to me! Stop her! Don’t let her do it!”

  I groped blindly for the reins of my talent, but Zenni took the control out of my reach, as a mother might move a hazard beyond the grasp of her child. Like that infant, my protest was a non-verbal wail, silent and aimed up the link, but it was weak.

  “We won’t leave.” Zenni borrowed my voice to speak to Maire. “Please call a medic—she needs one urgently.”

  The nurse nodded, departing rapidly for her office. I watched the white walls tumble around my ears like a pack of bleached playing cards, but in the heart of it all, one thorn stabbed through my brain. Collins... he’ll find me here! Beth will tell him. I have to leave!

  You aren’t going anywhere! I could swear that there was real fury in Zenni’s voice.

  Just how do you intend to stop me? I snapped back, reaching out to teleport only to be blocked again. How do you do that?

  Drain your energy as you initiate the jump, which is part of the reason you feel so weak. Don’t make me do it again or it might push you over into unconsciousness.

  You don’t understand! My left hand was clutching the frame of the bed, its knuckles turning white. I relinquished the grip. I can’t stay here! What about Collins?

  Dr Collins is only one man, Anna, a psi-zero, mortal and not very bright. Should we quake at the thought of him after everything we’ve faced together?

  Maire reappeared at my side, although it took my befuddled mind a little while to recognise her. “I’ve summoned the doctor, lass. She’ll be here directly.” Her manner was calm and reassuring, only her eyes showing her anxiety at my sudden collapse. That tiny part of me that was still half-sane, the inner observer who stood outside my body and watched events with dispassionate detachment, could sympathise with Maire’s distress.
Poor Anna was a puppet dancing on the strings of her fever. I looked down at her mad performance, shoulder to shoulder with, but with less concern than my electronic partner.

  Beth Ayres crashed into the unit, covering the ground like an Olympic sprinter. I was fascinated by the wreck of her precise, starched image; her crisp overall was unfastened and awry, her eccentric gold spectacles were askew on her nose and several strands of hair had contrived to unravel themselves from her classic blonde chignon. She was panting as she crouched down next to me, exertion burning redly in her pale cheeks.

  “Hi, Beth!” I said lightly. “How’s Angel?”

  “I don’t believe you, Anna!” She barked a laugh. “You’re in a crumpled heap on the floor, in shock, with a high pyrexia and probable septicaemia, and all you can say is ‘how’s Angel?’! How the hell did you get into this state?”

  “I had help.” Her sarcasm triggered my own. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  “It was a good try—I’d give them seven out of ten.” Beth motioned to Maire to give her a hand. “Let’s get her up and onto one of the free beds.”

  She lifted me on my injured side, the nurse on the other, and between them they got me into place. The pain was more than I’d bargained for and it set my head spinning. Beth prised my hand away from my side and peeled away the bandage, ticking items off on her subvocal checklist as she examined the wound. “What caused the original injury, Anna?”