Sons of the Crystal Mind (Diamond Roads Book 1)

by Wallace, Andrew

  “Are you going to let that woman die?” Ursula yells.

  “No,” 88 Rabian says.

  The woman begins to sink into the floor and I see her arm move. She is clearly still alive and about to be healed by the Basis, probably at 88 Rabian’s expense.

  “She’s dead!” someone screams. “She’s going into the floor!”

  “No!” I shout.

  Even if anyone hears they ignore me. The VIA security guards rush at the Blanks, clearly in the hope that raging determination will win out. The Centrian guards, better trained and smarter, try to form themselves into a barrier between the guests and the Blanks. The Blanks, presumably used to blind onslaughts fuelled by ignorance and hatred, remain calm. Their positioning is not random. They are spread out in a configuration that is impossible to surround and cannot be attacked without putting guests in danger.

  Some of the VIA guards realise; they slow down and the Blanks open fire on them. Two VIA guards are hit immediately and sink quickly into the floor. They lie buried in clear diamond, their positions identical to when they fell with scarlet wounds vivid against the white uniforms. After a few moments the dead guards seem to lose definition. They blur and then vanish as the Basis breaks them down and the kilo worth of their bodies goes to friends, family, idols…

  Guests cower behind furniture and run mindlessly to bounce off walls, guards and each other. A few even try to take on the Blanks but the Blanks are better trained and disciplined than a lot of the guards so the guests don’t stand a chance. Although the Blanks knock the attacking guests down, they don’t kill any.

  The guards are not so lucky. Two more are killed, which galvanises the Centrian team. They have arranged themselves so that instead of taking on all the Blanks they just target individuals and now fire three beams of lethal energy. Two Blanks are fatally hit, one with multiple blasts that spray his torso over a number of guests. The Blanks abandon their restraint and go berserk. The guards are no match for them and the fight enters a new pitch of savagery and hysterical panic.

  There is less screaming now because some of the guests and a couple of guards appear to have gone into shock. Most people unable to find shelter lie on the floor, either curled up or with their hands covering their heads, perhaps in the hope that shutting out reality will keep them safe.

  Two male guests jump the blonde female Blank and overwhelm her with simple weight. She shoots one of them in the stomach and he falls back going “oh oh oh”. The other guest pins the woman down and punches her repeatedly in the throat. She twitches underneath him for a while and then goes still. As the dead Blank is absorbed the guest picks up the gun but it melts in his hand. Two other Blanks shoot him dead and the rest begin to kill any guest still standing.

  I’m grabbed from behind; I struggle and see Bal’s profile. As I try to work out what he’s doing I see the Blank in front of me take aim.

  Bal is using me as a shield.

  I know the Blank is moving fast but he seems to take ages to get his gun level with my head. Faced with actual tedious, disappointing death I’m rewarded with enhanced perception that’s useless for anything except a good view. I’m not even scared.

  Harlan steps up behind the Blank and points at him. Something flickers out of Harlan’s right index finger: a beam of red light, there for an instant and then gone. One end of the red beam touches the Blank, who jerks forward and falls on his face. He is quickly absorbed into the floor and vanishes.

  Bal has still got hold of me as if he can’t think what else to do. Harlan walks through the fighting, stops and looks over my head. His face has none of its humour now. Bal’s grip loosens and he runs off.

  Harlan takes my hand and tries to pull me away but I can’t move. He puts an arm round me, hoists me without effort and runs to the empty bar. Around us the fighting is a kind of dread-filled inertia punctuated by screams and gunfire. A shot explodes against the front of the bar as Harlan ducks down behind it. He pushes me up against the structure and shields me with his body.

  I still can’t move. Every shot, scream and crash deafens me. I want to tell them all to shut up but I can’t speak. I’m cold, yet not cold. My whole body shakes.

  I look at Harlan’s lapel as he crouches over me. I can smell his clothes again and I can also smell him; not a scorched nervous smell but a raw musk. I’ve wanted to be close to him since we first met. Why did it have to happen like this?

  An explosion shakes the building and debris crashes onto the bar. I find my voice.

  “URSULA! I WANT MY SISTER! WHERE IS MY SISTER?”

  Harlan’s clothes and Harlan’s body muffle my shout. Suddenly he’s gone and I just lie there listening to the sounds of grief and terror. I stare numbly at the floor, which is a different colour to the rest of the white ballroom: a calming dark grey.

  Something dark-haired and sweary lands next to me followed by Harlan.

  “There,” he says. “Now shut up.”

  Ursula is hollow-eyed with shock and we clutch each other.

  Harlan peers carefully around the edge of the bar, his movements surprisingly flexible for such a big man. There is another explosion followed by the whine of a large vehicle. Harlan eases back behind the bar. He licks the pad of his thumb and wipes at blood over Ursula’s eye.

  “Ah,” he says to her, “not your blood.”

  “What’s happening?” I ask.

  “The Blanks have giffed some sort of tank and are getting away in it.”

  “How?” Ursula says.

  “I blew a hole in the wall so they could escape without letting Security in,” says Harlan.

  I want to ask him how he blew a hole in anything since he isn’t carrying a weapon but it doesn’t seem important now.

  “You helped them?” Ursula says.

  Everything gets quieter, dimmer.

  “They could stay but then we’d all kill each other. I think I was right, don’t you?”

  “Er, yeah,” Ursula says.

  “Jolly good,” Harlan says.

  I go to sleep or something.

  7

  I used to imagine going to Keris’s office, perhaps to advise her about some important matter or accept an engagement only I could carry out. I never thought it would be to explain a massacre at a party.

  Keris lives and works in an airborne assembly that drifts through Centria. Only a few people know which assembly it is and there are no markings or codes to identify it. Like the rest of the enclave, its shape changes often and currently it is a series of linked opaque globes that glow softly in the mid-morning lights. Like Keris herself it is understated but dazzlingly beautiful. Other assemblies and vehicles in the vicinity are actually warships in disguise; I flew over one to get here and glimpsed a cannon three times longer than I am.

  We sit at a round table: Keris, Ellery, me, Anton, Balatar, Loren and Gethen Karkarridan. This is the first time I’ve seen Ellery since that night at the Column and she has been uncharacteristically quiet on the ifarm. I try to catch her eye but she ignores me. Her focus is Gethen.

  It is said of Gethen Karkarridan that if you give him kilos to invest he will make a profit with them before they even hit his account. He thinks in multiples of a billion. His team is the biggest in Centria and a financial empire in itself. He’s got more money and power than anyone except Keris and it would be tempting to think it’s more than he knows what to do with. However, Gethen will always know what to do with money and power: make more money.

  He gets away with it because Ellery turns his exploits into the story of how Centria’s success is really that of Diamond City as a whole. The attack on Ursula’s party was a disaster because it has substantially undermined this narrative. As a result bad weather engulfs us, which means profits are down.

  I watch Gethen. I know him, although not well, because he and Ellery work incredibly closely. They have also been lovers for years and almost seem to blend into one being at times. Their combined presence is an enervating counterpoint to Keris’s
serenity as they process the city into manageable portions for her so that when she makes a decision it is not only well informed but also apparently prescient.

  Gethen is the most streamlined man I’ve ever seen. He’s even taller than Harlan but wiry and rigid instead of muscular. He only ever wears grey. His head is bullet-shaped with hair the colour of metal shaved close to the skull. His movements are methodical; he does not waste one joule of energy and is often very still. There is rarely any emotion in his chilly blue eyes and his teeth, when he does smile, are almost sharp. I worry he will bite off his tongue, not that he says much or even eats anything, as if he subsists on numbers alone.

  “The Blanks’ attack was a triumph for them,” Keris says. “Their popularity has risen in inverse proportion to our own.”

  Ellery’s eyes are a green blur as she processes information to distil the optimum message. Everyone watches her. She seems to ignore us but I know our expressions and body language will be another factor in her calculations.

  “Hn,” she says eventually. “We had no position on the Blanks. Best get one.”

  “Will that deflect the bad weather?” Keris says.

  “Some,” Ellery mutters.

  Keris looks at Anton.

  “We’ve traced the people in Centria who support the Sons of the Crystal Mind and dissuaded them from doing so again,” Anton says. “Balatar has done something similar in VIA.”

  “People will want to know why we didn’t do that before,” Keris says.

  “The Sons of the Crystal Mind are customers as well,” Gethen says.

  His soft voice is imbued with total authority. Just hearing it makes me nervous.

  “Well that is all right then Gethen, yes?” Loren says and laughs, her eyes bright.

  Not for the first time I detect a touch of madness in Loren. Gethen’s gaze clicks over to register her and I realise the strange tension in the room is between these two.

  “Anton Jelka,” Bal says, seemingly oblivious. “Tell us what went wrong with the Security operation please.”

  “Nothing went wrong with it,” Anton says, unruffled. “Our protocols and yours were aligned. However, if VIA Holdings chooses to sell its assets by the half-hour we can’t be expected to second guess who buys them.”

  “Who bought the building?” Keris says.

  “The Blanks,” Gethen says. “They didn’t even use a front company. Nothing was flagged because they have never been a threat before.”

  “I think everyone was at the wrong party,” I say.

  There is an almost physical change in the room. Even Gethen looks surprised. He runs his palms back over his head.

  “All the security protocols were set to the building the Blanks bought,” I say.

  “Not set by the ifarm?” Gethen says.

  “No,” I say. “Only people from Centria have an ifarm. The rest of the city, including VIA Holdings, does without. So if we’d tagged building access to the ifarm then half the guests wouldn’t have got in.”

  “After the merger, both groups will use the ifarm,” Anton says.

  Loren and Bal glance at each other. Only I seem to notice.

  “The Blanks deposited the building they bought and grew another identical one,” I say. “The security codes would have automatically been reset, which is why there was no alert. Buying a building is not in itself a threat VIA sells them all the time.”

  “That is true,” Loren says. “It is a key income stream. Our coordinates in the city are second in status only to Centria’s. We will sell an existing building to people who want to trade in close proximity to VIA Holdings and benefit from that status. We then disengage from the area so trade falls away, buy the building back from them at a massively reduced price and keep the difference. Simple, non?”

  “We were in the wrong place and never even knew it,” I say. “It’s how so many people who shouldn’t have been there got in.”

  I wait for someone to mention Harlan.

  “Hn,” Ellery says.

  Everyone gets her document on their eye screens at the same time. It’s a set of instructions disguised as a message:

  This incident occurred because everyone in Diamond City has the freedom to do, buy and believe what they want.

  Centria and VIA Holdings cannot be held responsible for individual choices.

  We can, however, learn from them.

  Both companies discourage support for the Sons of the Crystal Mind and indeed have never encouraged it.

  We digest the words and nobody questions them. They are going to underpin every statement made by both companies whenever the subject of the party comes up, which Ellery will ensure won’t be often.

  “The Blanks clearly have a range of uniquely marketable skills,” Gethen says. “We can get a database together to indicate which ones…”

  “…and base any future support for them on that,” Keris says. “But not too quickly. We don’t want to look like we are reacting positively to an attack on us.”

  “What about the guests who died?” I ask.

  “Yours weren’t they?” Ellery asks Loren.

  Her voice is uncharacteristically even, with all emotion and nuance removed.

  “Yes,” Loren says with her little smile. “It is not important.”

  There’s an odd pause, which Balatar takes as a cue.

  “What happened reveals another problem: we are seen as being out of touch with the rest of Diamond City,” he says.

  Ellery glares at him and I’m tempted to join her. After Bal’s terrible behaviour I have avoided all contact with him. However, I think his statement is accurate.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Bal looks at me and I sense a connection.

  “I’ve got some ideas about that,” I say. “I’ll talk to you about them Ellery.”

  Ellery nods and Keris gets up. Everyone else does the same and there is a murmur of pleasantries and farewells as the table and chairs sink into the floor.

  Anton is first out of the door, then Ellery and Gethen. I go to follow and catch Keris’s eye. She shakes her head slightly so I stay where I am.

  “Balatar,” Keris says.

  Bal looks at Loren, who twitches an annoyed eyebrow at him and then walks out. Bal reluctantly turns back, regards Keris and tries to ignore me. Keris waits. Bal swallows, glances at me and then back at Keris.

  “You used Charity as a shield,” Keris says. “A human shield.”

  Bal stares at Keris. She doesn’t seem to do anything other than look at him neutrally but Bal is terrified and I can understand why. With the others you can guess what they might do but not Keris. She could be about to open a door beneath Bal’s feet and watch him plummet for a kilometre or she might be about to hug him. Bal gulps.

  “Yes,” he says.

  There is a long pause.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he manages.

  It comes out as a literal truth rather than an indication of embarrassment. He turns to me.

  “Charity, I am sorry. It was… weak of me. I didn’t think. I am- I imagine that I am… important somehow and that you… you wouldn’t… mind?”

  “She minds,” Keris says. “I mind.”

  “Of course, of course. She has done… such a good job. You should be proud of her Keris and reward her.”

  Keris appears able to mould the atmosphere at will. Now, for example, the room seems freezing even though I am not cold.

  “Never, ever tell me what to do,” she says.

  “I- of course,” says Bal. “I’m sorry. It’s just-”

  “Get out,” Keris says.

  Bal seems unable to move. Finally, he backs off, turns and exits like someone remembering how to use their legs.

  Keris looks at me, the violet eyes gazing steadily into mine.

  “How are you?” she asks.

  “Oh, fine,” I say.

  And at that moment it’s true.

  “Good,” she says.

  I know it’s time to go b
ut I want to stay. Instead I put out my hand. Keris looks at it for a moment, then spreads her palm theatrically and puts it in mine. We shake firmly. I turn and leave.

  I feel like I could do anything.

  8

  I lie between Mum and Ursula on the bed at Mum and Dad’s. We speak in whispers.

  “Are you going to call him then?” Ursula says.

  “Do you think I should?”

  “Yes. It’s about time you got laid.”

  I punch her arm.

  “Sexual frustration is making you attempt a pathetic form of violence,” Ursula says. “Mum, what do you think? Hm. Hm. Yes. Mum agrees.”

  “Oh right,” I say.

  “She does. I can read her mind because I am her real daughter instead of someone else’s crappy cast-off.”

  I scream in mock outrage and climb on top of Ursula.

  “How dare you!” Ursula yells, “I am the fucking People’s Princess you bint!”

  “You are out of order!” I shout.

  “We only got you so I could have something to play with and you were cheaper than an autopony.”

  “But you had an autopony!”

  “Because you were rubbish!” Ursula says. “You just sat and thought all the time! Now get off before I give you a proper slapping.”

  “You being such an accomplished slapper.”

  “Yeah,” she says.

  We giggle at the same time and then I get off. Ursula rolls over and looks at Mum. After a moment, she gently pinches Mum’s nose, lets go and then pinches it again.

  “Silly Mummy,” she says.

  When she rolls back again there are tears in her eyes.

  “You only get one life Charity,” she says softly.

  “I know.”

  “Do you? Mum worked like mad and look where it got her.”

  I feel Mum’s silent presence without looking.

  “You should do something that isn’t career,” Ursula says, “which let’s face it is easier than having a real life.”