Neutronium Alchemist - Consolidation nd-3

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Thinking about her home made her skin cold. It was something she’d managed to avoid all day. I wonder what Mummy and Daddy are being made to do by their possessors? Evil, vile acts if that awful Quinn Dexter has any say in the matter.

  Louise shivered, and retreated back into the room. Time for a long soak in the bath, then change for dinner. By the time Aunt Celina rose tomorrow morning, she and Gen would be gone.

  She took off her new blouse and skirt. When she removed her bra she felt her breasts carefully. Were they more sensitive? Or was she just imagining it? Were they supposed to be sensitive this early in a pregnancy? She wished she’d paid more attention to the family planning lessons at school, rather than giggling with her friends at the pictures of men’s privates.

  “Looks like you’re getting lonely, Louise; having to do that for yourself.”

  Louise yelped, grabbing up the blouse and holding it in front of her like a shield.

  Roberto pushed aside the curtain at the far end of the room where he’d concealed himself and sauntered forward. His grin was arctic.

  “Get out!” Louise screamed at him. The terrible first heat of embarrassment was turning to cold anger. “Out , you filthy fat oaf!”

  “What you need is a close friend,” Roberto gloated. “Someone who can do it for you. It’s a lot better that way.”

  Louise took a step back, her body shaking with revulsion. “Get out, now,” she growled at him.

  “Or what?” His hand swept wide, the gesture taking in the pile of cases which the maids had left. “Going somewhere? What exactly have you been up to today?”

  “How I spend my time is none of your business. Now go, before I ring for a maid.”

  Roberto took another step towards her. “Don’t worry, Louise, I won’t say anything to my mother. I don’t rat on my friends. And we are going to be friends, aren’t we? Real good friends.”

  She took a pace back, glancing around. The bell cord to summon a maid was on the other side of the bed, near him. She’d never make it. “Get away from me.”

  “I don’t think so.” He started to undo the buttons on his shirt. “See, if I have to leave now I might just tell the police about that so-called farmhand friend of yours.”

  “What?” she barked in shock.

  “Yeah. Thought that might adjust your attitude. They make me do history at school, see. I don’t like it, but I do know who Fletcher Christian was. Your friend is using a false name. Now why would he do that, Louise? In a bit of trouble back on Kesteven, was he? Bit of a rebel is he?”

  “Fletcher is not in any trouble.”

  “Really? Then why don’t I just go make that call?”

  “No.”

  Roberto licked his lips. “Now that’s a whole lot nicer, Louise. We’re cooperating with each other. Aren’t we?”

  She just clutched the blouse closer to her, mind feverish.

  “Aren’t we?” he demanded.

  Louise nodded jerkily.

  “Okay, that’s better.” He peeled off his shirt.

  Louise couldn’t help the tears stinging her eyes. No matter what, she told herself, I won’t let him. I’d sooner die; it would be cleaner.

  Roberto unbuckled his belt, and started to take down his trousers. Louise waited until they were around his knees, then bolted for the bed.

  “Shit!” Roberto yelled. He made a grab for her. Missed. Nearly toppled over as the trouser fabric tangled around his shins.

  Louise flung herself on top of the bed and started to scurry over the blankets. She’d left it on the other side. Roberto was cursing behind her, grappling with his trousers. She reached the end of the bed and flopped down, hands reaching underneath.

  “No you don’t.” Roberto grasped an ankle and started dragging her back.

  Louise squealed, kicking backwards with her free foot.

  “Bitch.”

  He landed on top of her, making her cry out at the pain of such a weight. She clawed desperately at the mattress, pulling both of them to the edge of the bed. Her hands could just reach the carpet. Roberto laughed victoriously at her ineffectual struggling, and shifted around until he was straddling her buttocks. “Going somewhere?” he taunted. Her head and shoulders hung over the edge of the bed, vast waves of hair flooding the sheets. He sat up, panting slightly, and brushed the hair off her back, enjoying the flawless skin which was exposed. Louise strained below him, as if she was still trying to wriggle free. “Stop fighting it,” he told her. His cock was hugely erect. “It’s going to happen, Louise. Come on, you’ll love it when we get started. I’m going to last all night long with you.” His hands pushed below her, reaching for her breasts.

  Louise’s desperate fingers finally found the cool, smooth shape of carved wood she was searching for under the bed. She grabbed at it, groaning in revulsion as Roberto’s hands squeezed. But the feel of Carmitha’s shotgun sent resolution surging through her veins, inflaming and chilling at the same time.

  “Let me up,” she begged. “Please, Roberto.”

  The obscene prowling hands were stilled. “Why?”

  “I don’t want it like this. Turn me over. Please, it’ll make it easier for you. This hurts.”

  There was a moment’s silence. “You won’t struggle?” He sounded uncertain.

  “I won’t. I promise. Just not like this.”

  “I do like you, Louise. Really.”

  “I know.”

  The weight against the small of her back lifted. Louise tensed, gathering every ounce of strength. She pulled the shotgun clear from under the bed and twisted around, swinging it in a wide arc, trying to predict where his head would be.

  Roberto saw it coming. He managed to bring his arms up in an attempt to ward off the blow, ducking to one side—

  The shotgun barrel caught him a glancing blow above his left ear, the end of the pump mechanism thumping his guarding hand. Nothing like as devastating as Louise wanted it. But he cried out in pain and shock, clamping his hands over the side of his head. He started to keel over.

  Louise tugged her legs out from under him and tumbled off the bed, almost losing hold of the shotgun. She could hear Roberto sob behind her. It was a sound which sent a frightening burst of glee into her head. It freed her from all that genteel refinement which Norfolk had instilled, put civilization aside.

  She climbed to her feet, got a better grip on the shotgun, and brought it crashing down on the top of Roberto’s skull.

  The anxious knocking on the door was the next thing Louise was conscious of. For some inexplicable reason she’d sunk down onto the floor and started to weep. Her whole body was cold and trembling, yet her skin was prickled with perspiration.

  The knock came again, more urgent this time. “Lady Louise?”

  “Fletcher?” she gasped. Her voice was so weak.

  “Yes, my lady. Are you all right?”

  “I . . .” A giggle became choked in her throat. “One minute, Fletcher.” She looked around, and gagged. Roberto was sprawled over the bed. Blood from his head wound had produced a huge stain over the sheet.

  Dear Jesus, I’ve killed him. They’ll hang me.

  She stared at the body for a long, quiet moment, then got up and wrapped a towel around her nakedness.

  “Is anyone with you?” she asked Fletcher.

  “No, my lady. I am alone.”

  Louise opened the door, and he slipped inside. For some reason the sight of the corpse didn’t seem to shake him.

  “My lady.” The voice was so soft with sympathy and concern. He opened his arms, and she pressed against him, trying not to cry again.

  “I had to,” she blurted. “He was going to . . .”

  Fletcher’s hand stroked her wild hair, smoothing and combing it with every stroke. Within a minute it was a dry, shiny cloak again. And somehow the pain inside was lessened.

  “How did you know?” she murmured.

  “I could sense your anguish. A mighty silent shout, it was.”

  “Oh.�
� Now there was a strange notion, that the possessed could listen to your thoughts. There’s so much badness inside my head.

  Fletcher met her troubled gaze. “Did that animal violate you, my lady?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “He is lucky. Had he done so, I would have dispatched him to the beyond myself. Nor would such a passage be pleasant for him.”

  “But, Fletcher, he is dead. I did it.”

  “No, lady, he lives.”

  “The blood . . .”

  “A cut to the head always looks far worse than it is. Come now, I will have you shed no more tears for this beast.”

  “Oh, Lord, what a dreadful mess we’re in. Fletcher, he suspects something about you. I can’t just go to the police and file a rape charge. He’d tell them about you. Besides”—she drew an annoyed breath—“I’m not quite sure which of us Aunt Celina would believe.”

  “Very well. We shall have to leave now.”

  “But—”

  “Can you think of another course to follow?”

  “No,” she said sadly.

  “Then you must prepare; pack what you need. I shall go and tell the little one, also.”

  “What about him?” She indicated Roberto’s unconscious form.

  “Dress yourself, my lady. I will deal with him.”

  Louise picked through the boxes and went into the en suite bathroom. Fletcher was already leaning over Roberto.

  She put on a pair of long dark blue trousers and a white T-shirt. Black sneakers completed the outfit: a combination unlike anything she’d ever worn before—unlike anything Mother had ever allowed her to wear. But practical, she decided. Just wearing such garments made her feel different. The rest of the things she needed went into one of the suitcases she’d bought. She was halfway through packing when she heard Roberto’s frightened shout from the bedroom. It trailed off into a whimper. Her initial impulse was to rush in and find out what was happening. Instead, she took a deep breath, then looked in the mirror and finished tying back her hair.

  When she did finally emerge back into the bedroom, Roberto had been trussed up with strips of blanket. He stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. The gag in his mouth muffled his desperate shouts.

  She walked over to the bed and looked down at him. Roberto stopped trying to speak.

  “I’m going to return to this house one day,” she said. “When I do, I’ll have my father and my husband with me. If you’re smart, you won’t be here when we arrive.”

  Duchess was already rising by the time they arrived at Bennett Field. Every aircraft on Norfolk had been pressed into military service (including the aeroambulance from Bytham), ready to fly the newly formed army out to the rebel-held islands. Over a third of them were parked in long ranks over the aerodrome’s close-mown grass. There were a lot of khaki-uniformed troops milling around outside the hangars.

  Three guards stood beside the entrance to the administration block, a sergeant and two privates. There hadn’t been any at lunchtime when Louise had met Furay.

  Genevieve climbed down out of the cab and gave them a sullen look. The young girl was becoming very short-tempered.

  “Sorry, miss,” the sergeant said. “No civilians permitted in here. The aerodrome is under army control now.”

  “We’re not civilians, we’re passengers,” Genevieve said indignantly. She glared up at the big man, who couldn’t help a grin.

  “Sorry, love, but you still can’t come in.”

  “She’s telling the truth,” Louise said. She fished a copy of their transport contract with the Far Realm out of her bag and proffered it to the sergeant.

  He shrugged and flicked through the pages, not really reading it.

  “The Far Realm is a military ship,” Louise said hopefully.

  “I’m not sure . . .”

  “These two young ladies are the nieces of the Earl of Luffenham,” Fletcher said. “Now surely your superior officer should be made aware of their travel documentation? I’m sure nobody would want the Earl to have to call the general commanding this base.”

  The sergeant nodded gruffly. “Of course. If you’d like to wait inside while I get this sorted out. My lieutenant is in the mess at the moment. It might take a while.”

  “You’re very kind,” Louise said.

  The sergeant managed a flustered smile.

  They were shown into a small ground-floor office overlooking the field. The privates brought their bags in for them, both smiling generously at Louise.

  “Have they gone?” she asked after the door was closed.

  “No, my lady. The sergeant is most discomforted by our presence. One of the privates has been left a few yards down the corridor.”

  “Damnation!” She went over to the single window. From her position she could see nearly a third of the field. If anything the planes seemed to be packed even tighter than this morning; there were hundreds of them. Squads of militia were marching along the grass roadways, shouted at by sergeant majors. A great many people were involved with loading big cargo planes. Flat-topped trucks trundled past the squads, delivering more matériel.

  “I think the campaign must be starting,” Louise said. Dear Jesus, they look so young. Just boys, my age. “They’re going to lose, aren’t they? They’re all going to be possessed.”

  “I expect so, my lady, yes.”

  “I should have done something.” She wasn’t sure if she was speaking out loud or not. “Should have left Uncle Jules a letter. Warned them. I could have given them that much of my time, enough to write a few simple lines.”

  “There is no defence, dear lady.”

  “Joshua will protect us. He’ll believe me.”

  “I liked Joshua,” Genevieve said.

  Louise smiled, and ruffed her sister’s hair.

  “If you had warned your family and the Prince’s court, and they believed you, I fear you would not have been able to buy your passage on the Far Realm , lady.”

  “Not that it’s done us much good, so far,” she said in exasperation. “We should have gone up to the Far Realm as soon as Furay finalized the contract.”

  Genevieve gave her an anxious look. “We’ll get up there, Louise. You’ll see.”

  “Not very easily. I can’t see the lieutenant allowing us on to the field on the strength of that contract, not when all the troops are taking off. At the very least he’ll call Uncle Jules first. Then we’ll really be in trouble.”

  “Why?” Genevieve asked.

  Louise squeezed her sister’s hand. “I had a bit of a quarrel with Roberto.”

  “Yuck! Mr Fatso. I didn’t like him.”

  “Me neither.” She glanced out of the window again. “Fletcher, can you tell if Furay is out there?”

  “I will try, Lady Louise.” He came over to stand beside her, putting both hands flat on the windowsill and bowing his head. He shut his eyes.

  Louise and Genevieve swapped a glance. “If we can’t get away into orbit, we’ll have to go out onto the moors and camp there,” Louise said. “Find somewhere isolated, like Carmitha did.”

  Genevieve put her arms around her big sister’s waist and hugged. “You’ll get us away, Louise. I know you will. You’re so clever.”

  “Not really.” She hugged the girl back. “But at least I got us into some decent clothes.”

  “Yes!” Genevieve smiled down approvingly at her jeans and sweatshirt, even though there was a horrid cartoon rabbit printed on the chest.

  Fletcher’s eyes flicked open. “He’s here, Lady Louise. Over yonder.” He pointed out of the window in the direction of the central control tower.

  Louise was fascinated by the wet palmprints he’d left on the sill. “Excellent. That’s a start. Now all we have to do is work out how to get to the spaceplane.” Her hand tightened on the new Jovian Bank credit disk in her trouser pocket. “I’m sure Mr Furay can be persuaded to take us up straightaway.”

  “There are also several possessed within the aerodrome perimet
er.” Fletcher gave a confused frown. “One of them is wrong.”

  “Wrong?”

  “Odd.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not quite sure, only that he is odd.”

  Louise glanced down at Genevieve, whose face had paled at the mention of the possessed. “They won’t catch us, Gen. Promise.”

  “As do I, little one.”

  Genevieve nodded uncertainly, wanting to believe.

  Louise looked from the girl to the soldiers marching about outside, and came to a decision. “Fletcher, can you fake one of the army uniforms?” she asked. “An officer, not too high-ranking. A lieutenant or captain, perhaps?”

  He smiled. “A prudent notion, my lady.” His grey suit shimmered, darkening to khaki, its surface roughening.

  “The buttons are wrong,” Genevieve declared. “They should be bigger.”

  “If you say so, little one.”

  “That’ll do,” Louise said after a minute, anxious that the sergeant would return before they were done. “Half of these boys have never seen uniforms before. They don’t know if it’s right or not. We’re wasting time.”

  Genevieve and Fletcher pulled a face together at the reprimand. The girl giggled.

  Louise opened the window and peered out. There was no one in the immediate vicinity. “Push the cases through first,” she said.

  They walked over to the nearest hangar as quickly as they could; Louise immediately regretted bringing their bags and cases. She and Fletcher were carrying two apiece, and they were heavy; even Genevieve had a big shoulder bag which she was wilting under. Any attempt to be inconspicuous was doomed from the start.

  It was about two hundred yards to the hangar. When they got there, the central control tower didn’t look any nearer. And Fletcher just said that Furay was “near there.” The pilot could be well on the other side for all she knew.