“Or they pull another disappearing act.”
“We believe Ketton happened because the possessed we’d trapped there were pressured into reacting by the assault. There’s a big psychological difference between seeing ten thousand serjeants marching towards you and simply squabbling among yourselves over the last sachets of spaghetti bolognese.”
“The longer we leave them possessed, the worse condition the bodies will be in. And that’s before malnutrition.”
“Yes, ma’am. I know that. There’s also the problem that if we just simply contract the front line the way we have been doing, we’ll push a lot of possessed into one giant concentration in the middle. We’ll have to split Mortonridge into sections. That’ll mean redeploying the serjeants to drive inland in columns and link up. And if we’re leaving serjeants behind as garrisons, the numbers available for front line duties will be depleted just when we need them most.”
“More decisions, Ralph. What I said to you the other day about providing political cover still stands. Do what you have to on the ground, leave the rest to me.”
“Can I expect any improvement in the medical back-up situation? We’re really going to need it if we start sieges.”
“The Edenist ambassador has indicated that their habitats will take the worst cancer cases from us, but their voidhawks are badly stretched. Admiral Farquar is looking into making troop transports available, at least they have zero-tau pods in them. In fact, I’ve asked Alaistair for some Kulu Corporation colony transport ships. We can start storing patients until the pressure on facilities eases off.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
Kirsten stood and datavised Sylvester Geray that the audience was over. “The most fundamental rule of modern society: Everything costs more and takes longer. It always has done, and always will do. And there’s nothing you or I can do about it, General.”
Ralph managed a small bow as the doors opened. “I’ll bear it in mind, ma’am.”
* * *
“I think I can manage to walk now,” Stephanie said.
Choma and Franklin had carried her back to the serjeant’s camp on an improvised stretcher. She’d lain on the muddy ground beside Tina, a sleeping bag wrapped round her legs and torso and a plasma drip in her arm. Too weak to move, she’d dozed on and off for hours, falling victim to vague anxiety-drenched dreams. Moyo had stayed at her side the whole time, holding her hand and mopping her brow. Her body was reacting to the wound as if she’d come down with a fever.
Eventually, the cold shivers passed, and she lay passively on her back gathering her woozy thoughts back together. Nothing much had changed: the serjeants were still standing motionless all around. Occasionally, a circular patch of air high above them would inflate with white light and pulse briefly before extinguishing. If she closed her eyes, she could sense the flow of energistic power into the zone they designated: an intense focal point that was attempting to tear a gap in the fabric of this realm. The pattern which they applied the energy changed subtly every time, but the result was always the same: dissipation. This realm’s reality remained stubbornly intact.
Choma looked over from where he was examining Tina’s lower spine. “I would rather you did not exert yourself for a while longer,” he said to Stephanie. “You did lose a lot of blood.”
“Just like me,” Tina said. It was little more than a whisper. Her arm lifted a couple of inches off the ground, hand feeling round through the air.
Stephanie touched her, and they twined fingers. Tina’s skin was alarmingly cold.
“Yes, I ought to take things easy, I suppose,” Stephanie said. “We won’t get better if we stress ourselves.”
Tina smiled and closed her eyes, a contented hum stealing away from her lips. “We are getting better, aren’t we.”
“That’s right.” Stephanie kept her voice level, hoping the discipline would also keep her thoughts from fluttering. “Us girls together.”
“Just like always. Everybody’s been so kind, even Cochrane.”
“He wants you back on your feet, so he can carry on trying to get you on your back again.”
Tina grinned, then slowly dropped back into a semi-slumber.
Stephanie raised herself onto her elbows, imagining the sleeping bag fluffing up into a large pillow. The fabric rose up to support her spine. Her friends were all there, watching her with kind or mildly embarrassed expressions. But all of them were concerned. “I’m such an idiot,” she said bitterly to them. “I should never have gone back to Ketton.”
“No way!” Cochrane boomed.
McPhee spat in the direction of the ruined town. “We did the right thing, the human thing.”
“It’s not you who is to blame,” Rana said primly. “That woman is utterly deranged.”
“Nobody knew that more than me,” Stephanie said. “We should have taken some elementary precautions at least. She could have shot all of us.”
“If showing compassion and trust is a flaw, then I’m proud to say I share it with you,” Franklin said.
“I should have guarded myself,” Stephanie said, almost to herself. “It was stupid. A bullet would never have done any damage before; we were careful back on Ombey. I just thought we would all pull together now we’re in the same predicament.”
“That was a big mistake.” Moyo patted her hand warmly. “First you’ve made since we met, so I’ll overlook it.”
She took his hand, and brought it up to her face, kissing his palm lightly. “Thank you.”
“I don’t think being prepared and paranoid would have been much use to us anyway,” Franklin said.
“Why not?”
He held up one of the nutrient soup sachets. The silver coating gradually turned blue and white as the shape rounded out. He was left holding a can of baked beans. “We’re not as strong here. Changing that sachet would have taken an eyeblink back in the old universe. And that’s why they can’t get back.” He indicated the serjeants just as another white blaze of air above them broke apart into expanding rivulets of blue ions. “There isn’t enough power available here to do what we did. Don’t ask me why. Presumably it’s got something to do with being blocked from the beyond. I expect those rifles Ekelund has could cause quite a bit of harm no matter how hard we make the air around ourselves.”
“Any more good news for the patients?” Moyo asked, scathingly.
“No, he’s right,” Stephanie said. “Besides, hiding from the facts now isn’t going to help anyone.”
“How can you be so calm about it? We’re stuck here.”
“Not exactly,” she said. “Being an invalid has had one benefit. Sinon?”
Since the unfortunate trip to Ketton, the serjeants had been keeping a cautionary watch on the town in case Ekelund made any hostile move. Sinon and Choma had taken the duty, combining it with helping the two patients. It wasn’t particularly difficult; from their slightly raised elevation they could see anything moving across the bland stretch of ochre mud between them and the desolated town. There would be plenty of warning if anyone came.
Sinon was checking over a batch of the sniper rifles which the serjeants were equipped with. Not that he expected they would be used. If Ekelund did send her people, the serjeants would simply establish a barrier around their camp similar to the one holding in the air around the island, offering passive, yet insurmountable, resistance.
He put down the sight he was cleaning. “Yes?”
“Are you and the others aware we’re actually moving?” Stephanie asked him. For some time, she’d been watching what passed for a sky in this realm. When they’d first arrived, it had appeared to be a uniform glare being emitted from some indefinable distance all around them. But as she’d lain there looking at it, she became aware of subtle variants. There were different shades arching above the flying island, arranged like flaccid waves, or streamers of thin mist. And they were moving, sliding slowly in one direction.
As Stephanie started to describe them, more an
d more serjeants broke away from their mental union to look upwards. A mild emotion of self-censure washed through the assembled minds. We should have noticed this. Direct observation is the most basic method to gather data on an environment.
By using affinity to link their vision together, the serjeants could scan the sky like some multi-segment telescope. Thousand of irises tracked the same faint wavering irregularity as it passed gently overhead. Parallel minds performed basic mental arithmetic to derive the parallax, putting the aberration roughly fifty kilometres away.
“As the bands of dimmer light seem to be fluctuating slightly in width, we conclude there is some kind of extremely tenuous nebula-like structure enveloping us,” Sinon told the fascinated humans. “However, the source of the light remains indeterminable, so we cannot say for certain if it is the nebula or the island which is moving. But given that the speed appears to be close to a hundred and fifty kilometres an hour, we are tentatively assigning movement to the island.”
“Why?” Rana asked.
“Because it would take a great deal of force to move the nebula at that speed. It’s not impossible, but as the environment outside the island is essentially a vacuum, the problem of what force could be acting on the nebula is multiplied by an order of magnitude. We cannot detect any physical or energy impacting against the island, ergo, there is no ‘wind’ to push it along. We concede that it could still be expanding from its origin point, but as the fluctuations within it indicate a reasonably passive composition, such a possibility is unlikely.”
“So we really are flying,” McPhee said.
“It would appear so.”
“I don’t want to like piss all over your parade or anything,” Cochrane said. “But have you cats ever considered we might be like falling?”
“The direction of flow we can see in the nebula makes that unlikely,” Sinon said. “It appears to be a horizontal movement. The most probable explanation is that we emerged at a different relative velocity to this nebula. Besides, if we had been falling since we arrived, then whatever we are falling towards would surely be visible by now. To exert such a powerful gravitational field, it would be massive indeed; several times the size of a super-Jovian gas-giant.”
“You don’t know what kind of mass or gravity are natural in this realm,” McPhee said.
“True. This island is proof of that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our gravity hasn’t changed since we arrived. Yet we are no longer part of Ombey. We assumed it has remained normal because the subconscious will of everyone here required that it do so.”
“Holy shit.” Cochrane jumped up, giving the bottom of his wide velvet flares a startled glance. “You mean, we’re only dreaming there’s gravity?”
“Essentially, yes.”
The hippie clenched his hands, and pressed them hard against his forehead. “Oh man, that is a total bummer. I want my gravity to be the real stuff. Listen, you don’t fool around with something as basic as this. You just don’t.”
“Reality is now essentially contained in your mind. If you perceive gravity acting on you, then it is real,” the serjeant said imperturbably.
A large lighted reefer appeared in Cochrane’s hand, and he took a deep drag. “I am heavy,” he chanted. “Heavy, heavy, heavy. And don’t no one forget that. You listening to me, people? Keep thinking it.”
“In any event,” Sinon told McPhee. “If we were in the grip of a gravity field, the nebula would be falling with us. It isn’t.”
“Some good news,” McPhee grunted. “Which is also no’ natural here.”
“Forget the academics of the situation,” Moyo said. “Is there any way we can use it?”
“We intend to set up an observation detail,” Sinon said. “A headland watch, if you like, to see if there is anything out there in front of us. It could be that all the other planets the possessed removed from the universe are here in this realm with us. We will also start using our affinity to call for help; it’s the only method of communication we have that works here.”
“Oh man, no way! Who’s going to hear that? Come on, you guys, get real.”
“Obviously we don’t know who, if anyone, will hear. And even if there is a planet out there, we doubt we’d be able to reach its surface intact.”
“You mean alive,” Moyo said.
“Correct. However, there is one strong possibility for rescue.”
“What?” Cochrane yelled.
“If this is the realm where all the possessed yearn to go, then it is conceivable Valisk is here. It might hear our call, and its biosphere would be able to support us. Transferring ourselves inside would be a simple matter.”
Cochrane let out a long sigh, blowing long trails of sweet-smelling green smoke from his nostrils. “Hey, yeah, more like it, dude. Good positive thinking. I could dig living in Valisk.”
* * *
Watching was one thing the humans could do almost as well as the serjeants, so Stephanie and her friends hiked across the final kilometre to the edge of the island to help establish the headland lookout camp. It took them over an hour to get there. The terrain wasn’t particularly rough. Crusted mud cracked and squelched under their feet, and they had to go around several pools of stagnant water. But Tina had to be carried the whole way on a stretcher, along with her small array of primitive medical equipment. And even with energistic strength reinforcing her body, Stephanie had to stop for a rest every few minutes.
Eventually, they reached the top of the cliff, and settled themselves down fifty metres short of the precipice. They’d chosen the brow of a mound, which gave them an excellent uninterrupted view out across the glaring emptiness ahead. Tina was placed so she could look outward by just raising her head, making her feel a part of their enterprise. She smiled a painful tired thanks as they rigged her plasma container up on an old branch beside her. The ten serjeants accompanying them clumped their backpacks together, and sat down in a broad semicircle like a collection of lotus-position Buddhas.
Stephanie eased herself down on a sleeping bag, quietly content the journey had ended. She promptly turned a sachet of nutrient soup into a ham sandwich and bit in hungrily. Moyo sat beside her, allowing his shoulder to rest against hers. They exchanged a brief kiss.
“Groovy,” Cochrane hooted. “Hey, if love is blind, how come lingerie is so popular.”
Rana regarded him in despair. “Oh very tactful.”
“It’s a joke,” the hippie protested. “Moyo doesn’t mind, do you, man?”
“No.” He and Stephanie put their heads together and started giggling.
Giving them a slightly suspicious look, Cochrane settled down on his own sleeping bag. He’d changed the fabric to scarlet and emerald crushed velvet. “So how about a sweepstake, you dudes? What’s going to come sailing over the horizon first?”
“Flying saucers,” McPhee said.
“No no,” Rana said primly. “Winged unicorns ridden by virgins wearing Cochrane’s frilly white lingerie.”
“Hey, come on, this is serious, you guys. I mean, like our lives depend on it.”
“Funny,” Stephanie mused. “Not so long ago I was wishing death was permanent. Now it could well be, and I’d like to keep on living just that little bit longer.”
“I would like to ask why you believe you will actually die?” Sinon enquired. “You have all indicated that is what will happen in this realm.”
“It’s like the gravity, I suppose,” Stephanie said. “Death is such a fundamental. That’s what we expect at the end of life.”
“You mean you are willing your own extinction?”
“Not exactly. Being free of the beyond was only a part of what we wanted. This realm was supposed to be marvellously benign. It probably is, if we were on a planet. We wanted to come here and live forever, just like the legends of heaven. And if not forever, certainly thousands of years. A proper life, like we used to think we had. Life ends in death.”
“In heaven, death
would not return you to the beyond,” Choma ventured.
“Exactly. This life would be better than before. Energistic power gives us the potential to fulfil our dreams. We don’t need a manufacturing base, or money. We can make whatever we want just by wishing it into being. If that can’t make people happy, nothing can.”
“You would never know a sense of accomplishment,” Sinon said. “There would be no frontier to challenge you. Electricity is virtually non-existent, denying you any kind of machinery more advanced than a steam engine. You expect to live for a good portion of eternity. And nobody can ever leave. Forgive me, I do not see that as paradise.”
“Always the downside,” Cochrane muttered.
“You might be right. But even a jail planet trapped in the Eighteenth Century followed by genuine death is better than the beyond.”
“Then your energies would surely be better directed in solving the problem of human souls becoming trapped in the beyond.”
“Fine words,” Moyo said. “How?”
“I don’t know. But if some of you would cooperate with us, then avenues of possibility would be opened.”
“We are cooperating.”
“Not here. Back in the universe where the Confederation’s scientific resources could be marshalled.”
“All you ever did when we were on Ombey was assault us,” Rana said. “And we know the military captured several possessed to vivisect. We could hear their torment echoing through the beyond.”
“If they had cooperated, we wouldn’t have to use force,” Choma said. “And it was not vivisection. We are not barbarians. Do you really think I wish to consign my family to the beyond? We want to help. Self-interest dictates that if nothing else.”
The Night's Dawn Trilogy Page 329
