by Eric Brown
The next wall, however, refused to buckle and he tried again, then gave up. He took the stairs four at a time and found himself in a small room fronting the street. Rather than risk Singh’s lasers in the open air, he barged through a downstairs wall into the adjacent building. A door was situated on the far wall; he reckoned he could exit through this and keep the buildings between himself and Singh.
He scanned. Singh was perhaps 400 metres behind him, racing down the street in his direction.
He crashed through the door, turned left, and sprinted. Ahead, at the end of the avenue, he made out the rise of steps towards the triangular opening to the chamber.
He wondered if he could make it to the top of the steps before Singh reached the corner of the avenue and had him in his sights.
But what of the drones, he thought. He expected to be confronted by one of the mincing, mechanical spiders at any second...
He sprinted, lungs bursting and a shooting pain lancing through his right knee. He tried to recall the code the alien leader had given him in order to initiate mind-contact; he’d entered it into his handset, but he couldn’t access the code while fleeing - and anyway, he couldn’t rely on the Taoth to save him now.
He came to the boulevard encircling the city, sprinted out into the open and expected to earn a laser in his back at any second. He scanned. Singh was on the edge of his range, 500 metres away, but he was unable to tell whether or not he’d turned the corner.
There was still no sign of the drones, and he wondered how Singh might have deployed them. Why hadn’t they shown themselves before now?
Seconds later a blinding laser vector missed him by a metre and turned the steps before him to rubble. He turned quickly, laying down a random pattern of laser fire that would hopefully buy him time.
He leapt the steaming debris and raced up the steps, dodging right and left. Another vector burned the air half a metre away and slammed into the marble with a deafening explosion. Shrapnel shards of stone tore into his flank and he cried out in pain. He was about ten metres from the top of the steps, with the same distance again to the rent in the rock-face.
He heard a distant cry and wondered whether Singh was resorting to bargaining with him. Perhaps the fire so far had been warning shots only. It made sense: Singh, whoever he was working for, would want Vaughan alive in order to prise from him that alien’s Secret...
The next vector missed his leg by inches, and he guessed he was right. Singh was aiming to maim him, now.
He came to the top of the steps and launched himself towards the gash in the rock. He made it a second later, laser fire bringing slabs of rock down in his wake.
He dived through, falling on his face in the narrow corridor, then pushing himself to his feet and sprinting into the chamber.
He stopped dead. Now he knew why Singh had held off using the drones.
Two glinting silver spiders stood before the membrane, their weapons trained on him.
“Vaughan,” a drone said, “drop your weapon. Now.”
He did as instructed and raised his arms, looking beyond the drones. There was no sign of the Taoth through the membrane of the portal.
He heard a sound behind him and turned.
Singh appeared through the slitted entrance to the chamber. He stared at Vaughan, then beyond to the rearing magnificence of the portal and the spread of Vluta. He gripped a laser, directed at Vaughan.
He nodded. “They spoke of a wonder in the communiqué,” he said. His gaze turned to Vaughan. “Why did the aliens take you?”
Vaughan licked his lips. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Singh snapped a command in Punjabi. Behind him, Vaughan heard the quick ring of metal feet on stone. He turned. A drone was before him, its laser in his midriff.
Singh said, “If you don’t tell me what this is, what the aliens wanted with you... then I’ll give the order for your execution.”
Vaughan turned to the Indian and managed a smile. “And do you think that’ll bring you any closer to finding out what that is, Singh?”
The Indian spoke to the drone, and it raised its laser to Vaughan’s head.
“Tell me,” Singh said.
He nodded, and was considering what he might tell Singh when a voice spoke in his head.
>>> We have the situation under control, Vaughan.
He started, then thought: What do you want me to do?
>>> Tell Singh to get the drone away from you; tell him that then you might tell him what he wants to know.
Vaughan glanced at the Indian, wondering what the Taoth intended. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But first, get this bastard away from me, okay?”
Singh spoke to the drone. Seconds later the spider lowered its laser, then retreated nimbly to where its companion stood before the membrane.
“Right,” Singh said. “What the hell’s happening here, Vaughan?”
>>> We are a compassionate people, Vaughan,the voice spoke in his head. Do not judge us too harshly for what we are about to do. Singh would have no compunction about killing you, once he had removed your shield and read your mind.
So he was a telepath, Vaughan thought.
A second later three silver spokes of light lanced from beyond the membrane. They struck the drones and Singh simultaneously, reducing the spiders to slag and drilling the Indian neatly through the forehead. He remained upright for several seconds, his expression almost incredulous, then crumpled to the ground.
>>> Please, Vaughan. Join us...
Vaughan turned from the corpse, considering the Taoth’s words, and their actions. He retrieved his laser, then stepped around the shattered drones and hurried towards the arching membrane of the portal.
A robed alien - he was unsure whether it was the same one which had spoken to him - approached the membrane and raised a hand in greeting.
He passed through the membrane, feeling a surge of heat race across his flesh, and staggered towards the Taoth.
The alien raised an arm, and seconds later the membrane flickered. The scene in the cavern wavered like the image on a faulty holo-set. Then it vanished, and in its place stood a giant, empty frame through which Vaughan saw the distant orb of the gas giant.
He was 30,000 light years from Earth - and safe.
Then his handset chimed.
* * * *
THIRTY
THE JOY OF REUNION
He accessed the call and stared at the screen.
His surge of delight at seeing Sukara was instantly quenched when he looked closely at her face. She was tearful, and his first thought was Li.
“Su...?”
“Jeff! They have me and Pham! They want-”
The image on the screen vanished; the screen wobbled, and another face came into shot. This one was broad, pop-eyed, and prognathous. Chinese, he thought, made ugly with urgent intent.
Dread settled over him. “What do you want?”
“Vaughan? Jeff Vaughan?”
“I said what do you want?” His heart pounded. The Chinaman grinned, revealing small, sharp teeth. He looked, Vaughan thought, like a particularly predatory carp.
“The girl wasn’t lying,” he said. “We’ve got her and the kid.”
“What,” said Vaughan for the third time, with deliberation, “do you want?”
“First I’ll tell you what’ll happen to the girl and the kid if we don’t get it, okay?” The Chinaman’s mugshot vanished, replaced on the tiny screen by Sukara and Pham, their faces pressed together as they hugged each other tearfully.
“If you don’t give us what we want, Vaughan, we’ll kill the kid first. Got that? Right in front of Mummy. We’ll drill the little cunt in the gut and let her die slowly. Then, if you’re still playing hardball, we’ll do the same with Mummy. Okay? Only we’ll have a little fun, first.”
Vaughan felt his legs give under him. He slumped to the marble floor, staring at the grinning face on his handset.
He nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’m listen
ing. What do you want?”
In his head a voice made itself heard, soothing, calming. >>> Do not worry, Vaughan. We can help you.
“One, we want Chandrasakar dead. Got that? Kill the tycoon.”
Vaughan nodded, wondering how to play this. It would be a mistake to tell them that the Indian was already dead, he knew. “Okay. And then?”
“We know there’s something big down there, Vaughan. We intercepted the colonists’ message. And we want to know what it is, got that?”
“What if-?” Vaughan began.
The Chinaman’s piscine mug shot was whipped away, replaced by Pham’s terrified face. Someone - the bastard’s accomplice - hit her, hard. Her head whiplashed, her expression wide-eyed with pain and fright. Pham screamed.
Vaughan heard his wife’s terrified sobs. Then the first Chinaman was back, grinning out at him.
“No ‘what ifs’, Vaughan. We want to know what’s down there.”
>>> Agree to their demands, Vaughan. Play for time.
Vaughan nodded. “That might take a while. We’re still moving through the caverns...”
The Chinaman grinned. “That’s fine by us, Vaughan. We have all the time in the world. When you find out what all the fuss is about, get back to us. In detail. We want to know what’s down there, and exactly where it is. How it’s protected, how many colonists are down there with it... Then you kill Chandrasakar and his security team, okay?” The bastard showed his teeth again. “And we want to see their heads, Vaughan. Get back to the surface, tell the crew of the Kali that you met resistance, whatever. We’ll be waiting for you when you get back to Earth.”
He worked to maintain his even breathing. “And if I do this? What about Su and Pham? You’ll let them go, okay?”
“Only when you’re back here. Until then they’re staying put.”
Vaughan felt something rip within him, despair and hopelessness, and a maniacal desire for revenge.
He said evenly, “That’s a lot to ask. What makes you think the crew of the Kali will buy my story?”
The Chinaman laughed. “It’s up to you to convince them, isn’t it? And it’s not as if you don’t have the incentive. When you’re spinning them the lie, just think of what’ll happen to your girls if you blow it.”
Vaughan nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it-”
“We’ll be in contact in an hour, and every hour after that, for progress reports.”
Vaughan heard a scream - Pham’s - and a second later he saw her tiny fist strike the Chinaman on the cheek. “You bastard!” she cried.
The screen yawed, then the Chinaman cut the connection.
What was happening now, thousands of light years away on Earth? He knew that the bastards had to keep Su and Pham alive if he were to deliver what they wanted - but it was what they might do to the girls in the interim the filled him with despair.
The alien was squatting beside him. It reached out, placed a thin hand on his shoulder. >>> Do not fear, Vaughan. As I said, we can help you.
He looked up. “How the hell-?”
“Come,” it verbalised. “I alerted my colleagues when I understood your dilemma. We will open a portal to where your loved ones are being held. We will send you through. The rest, I am afraid, will be up to you.”
Hardly daring to believe the alien’s words, he climbed to his feet and followed it across the marble piazza towards a white-walled building. Several aliens emerged from the low doorway, exchanging bursts of golden light with the leader.
“The portal is prepared, Vaughan. Come.”
Vaughan ducked into the building and saw, as if set flush with the far wall, a shimmering blue portal the approximate size of a coffin. The blue membrane flickered, and a second later he made out a darkened room in what looked like the basement of a tenement block. Pipes filled the room, an old boiler and stacked cartons.
“We were able to locate the approximate source of the call from the signal to your handset, Vaughan. This is two floors below where they are holding your loved ones.” The alien paused, then said, “We know you will succeed.”
Vaughan stepped forward, feeling light-headed. He turned and looked at the alien, then beyond it to the others watching him.
“And then?”
The alien made its calm, turning-palm gesture. “And then, in due course, we will be in touch. Farewell, Vaughan. Good luck.”
He reached out, and the alien realised his intent and matched the gesture. They clasped hands. Then Vaughan turned quickly and stepped through the portal.
* * * *
A dizzy sensation, a rush of heat, and then he was standing in a grubby tenement basement on Bengal Station, Earth.
It took him a few seconds to realise the full import of what had just happened, and then attempt to forget that and concentrate on saving Su and Pham.
He would have the advantage of surprise. The last thing the bastards would be expecting was for him to come bursting in through the door. At the same time, he knew there would be no room for the slightest error of judgement. He had one chance only to save Su and Pham, and he had to concentrate on the best way of going about the rescue. One thing in his favour was that he had plenty of time.
He enabled his tele-ability and probed. He caught the mind-noise of half a dozen individuals in the building above him. It was midday, he gleaned from the thoughts of an old woman on the first floor. Most of the tenement’s occupants were at work. He filtered out the extraneous mind-noise and concentrated on finding Pham. Su had a mind-shield implanted in her handset, and no doubt the Chinese pair would be shielded - but Pham was not.
Seconds later he found Pham’s cerebral signature, latching on to it with relief and at the same time pain. Pham was huddled on a sofa, clutching Su and crying quietly to herself. The side of her face still smarted from the Chinaman’s blow, and she knew they were capable of killing her and Su without a second thought. Su’s embrace was a source of comfort and reassurance. They were both shackled at the ankles, their feet tied together and the cord knotted to the legs of the sofa. Pham was bursting to go to the loo, but was determined not to wet herself in front of the Chinaman.
He read, on a deeper level, how much she missed him, how much she wanted to hold him... He felt tears sting his eyes as he saw himself through her perceptions: a powerful figure she wholly loved and trusted, the father she thought she’d never have.
He put aside his stepdaughter’s emotions and concentrated on what she was experiencing, what she was seeing. Pham’s perceptions of what was happening in the apartment would be his only guide from now on.
The last thing he wanted, he thought, was her to fall asleep: he probed and found that she was far from tired. Relieved, he closed his eyes and saw, in his head, the apartment from Pham’s point of view.
One of their captors sat directly before them - the fish-faced bastard who’d communicated with Vaughan - while the second was seated on a chair to their left, positioned by the window and looking out on to the street below.
Vaughan saw with relief that neither of the pair was holding a weapon. They both had laser pistols, he knew from Pham’s memories, but Fish-face had slipped his into a holster beneath his jacket, and the other had taken his weapon from his holster and placed it on the window-sill before him. The danger would be that the second bastard would be able to reach his pistol in a second, if alerted: Vaughan would have to take him out first.
Still watching the apartment through Pham’s eyes, he climbed the three concrete steps to a door and tried it. As he’d expected, it was locked. He withdrew his probe from Pham’s mind and scanned the immediate vicinity. There was no one near the door; the closest anyone was to the basement was the old woman on the first floor, and she was bedridden.
He pulled out his laser, set it to low, and burned the lock. He allowed a couple of minutes for the slag to cool, then pulled open the door and stepped out. He was in a dark corridor leading to the lobby. He found Pham’s signature again, checked that the Chinamen were still
where they had been, and headed for the staircase.
He was half-way up the short flight when Pham looked at Fish-face as he stood up, stretched, and glanced at his handset. Vaughan stopped dead in his tracks, closed his eyes, and concentrated.
Fish-face spoke to his accomplice, “Hungry?”
The guy at the window said, “I’ll get something. Pork satay?”
“And coffee.”
