Great North Road

by Peter F. Hamilton

  The gurney was wheeled across the room, and she was suddenly sliding into the guts of the big machine which had to be some kind of scanner. Light shone into her eyes. It was bright, zipping through the spectrum in strobe flashes. And she couldn’t blink. Then the machine started buzzing and humming loudly, like it was preparing for takeoff.

  ‘Get me out of here!’

  The universe turned white. A single slim black line sliced down the middle. The universe turned black. A single white line sliced down the middle. It turned white. A white circle appeared.

  She couldn’t blink. Couldn’t stop seeing the light.

  ‘What the hell is this?’

  White. Black. White. Black. White. Black. Each with a shape: circle, triangle, rectangle, square, pentagon, hexagon. More. Geometries she didn’t know the name of. Blank. Single images materialized. Tree. House. Ball. Car. Human. Horse. Dog. Lake. Wine glass. Table. Chair. Keyboard. Plate. Mountain. Beach. Rose. Shoe.

  They were showing her an encyclopaedia of everything. Monochromed. Chromatic. It was bewildering. She felt as if her brain was going to explode from the quantity of vision they were forcing in. And she couldn’t blink. Tears were pouring out now, trickling down her cheeks.

  ‘I will kill you,’ she promised in a whisper. The light was burning her now, inflaming her neurones. The pain was swelling. Thudding behind her temples in time to her heart. And still the images kept power strobing in.

  Nothing made sense. She didn’t know if she’d been unconscious or not. The difference in her existence was in the images. They weren’t so bright, and they moved now, like solid clouds scudding about. The sound of the machine had gone as well. People were talking instead.

  She felt gentle pinching sensations but her mind was spinning so she didn’t know where they came from. Then the shapes withdrew and she could blink. Her eyes were incredibly sore. She squeezed them shut, tighter and tighter. Tears still came squeezing out of the sides. She was sobbing uncontrollably now.

  Then there was a prick on her arm. She opened her eyes to see Elston pulling a syringe away. ‘I can’t take this any more,’ she told him in a dead voice.

  He looked like she’d slapped him. ‘Almost over,’ he murmured in an embarrassed tone.

  She could feel her thoughts losing cohesion again. This time it wasn’t as bad as the IV drip. She could still think, though it was difficult, as if she was drowsy, rising from a deep slumber.

  Something clamped across her face, and she couldn’t see. She felt the gurney moving again. The air changed and she knew she was back in the machine. To confirm that, the humming and buzzing and whirring started up again, setting her teeth on edge.

  ‘You’re in Bartram North’s mansion again,’ Sung’s voice said softly. ‘It’s the night of the murders. You said you were on the seventh-floor landing when you heard something.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘You went into the lounge to see why the lights were off. And you slipped on something. Then you found the light switch. The lights came on, you said. You’re in the lounge, Angela, what did you see? What was in there Angela? What was going on?’

  ‘I’ve told you!’ she moaned. ‘They were there on the floor. Dead! All of them, dead.’

  ‘Then what happened? What happened after you went into the lounge?’

  ‘Bartram’s door opened. I saw it open.’

  ‘What did you see then, Angela? What came out?’

  ‘The alien,’ she moaned. She didn’t need drugs to remember it, she’d never needed drugs for that. ‘The alien was in there. Monster with its claws out. Mariangela is behind it, and Coi and Bartram. Their blood. Everywhere their blood. Oh God, it’s ripped them apart. There’s just pieces left now. Pieces.’

  ‘Look at it Angela, as it comes for you, what do you see?’

  ‘Monster!’ she screamed. ‘Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster.’ And the screams became sobbing. ‘It killed them. Killed all of them.’

  She despised the memory now. It was the memory that was the cause of the deaths she’d witnessed. The memory which had trapped her, which controlled her life. The memory which had imprisoned her in here with her torturers. She wanted to rip the vile thing from her head.

  The machine began to power down, its noise fading out. The gurney trundled over the floor again, and the blackout cups were lifted from her eyes. Elston, Sung, and the technician were staring down at her. They didn’t look happy, but then when have captors ever been pleased by their victims?

  Her head was freed from the crown, straps removed from her limbs. She was too drained to move. Her whole body was shaking despite the weakness, the sore eyes, the terrible headache, the nausea. She was used to such affliction now, it was how she lived.

  ‘What is that thing?’ she growled, glancing at the big machine.

  ‘A mind reader,’ Sung answered simply as he helped her sit up on the gurney. ‘It scanned how your brain interprets images. Then once it had catalogued those patterns, we got you to remember.’ He pointed at the screens on the wall.

  Angela squinted. Her eyes still ached, and she couldn’t focus properly. A poor-quality video clip was playing on a loop. The setting was familiar, a kind of stripped-down version of the seventh-floor lounge in Bartram North’s mansion, the furniture was in the right places in the broad central corridor, but it lacked the expensive elaboration of the originals, paintings on the walls were reduced to odd smears of colour. The doors to Bartram’s bedroom were open, framing a dark shape that seemed to be lunging out of the screen. The monster was square in the centre. Humanoid, with dark, hard skin mimicking a human’s contours, hands opening. The blades expanding as they straightened out, growing to fill the entire screen.

  Angela gasped. It was her memory. They’d taken her memory from her, pulled it right out of her skull with their diabolical machine and filthy drugs. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Looks like you told us the truth,’ Elston said.

  ‘As you believe it,’ Sung added quickly.

  ‘It’s real,’ she hissed.

  ‘Maybe. That’s for the review committee to decide.’

  ‘You saw it.’

  ‘I saw what you believe happened. What your mind interprets as reality. There’s no other evidence, no empirical proof.’

  ‘Then why did you do this to me?’ she yelled. The effort sent her swaying back, gripping the edge of the gurney for support.

  ‘We need to know.’

  ‘Rot in hell you fuckhead.’

  ‘This from a lying whore.’

  ‘I am not lying.’

  Sung grinned. ‘But you are a whore.’

  ‘I’ll find you. So help me, I will.’

  ‘Yeah right. Elston, take her back; we’re through here now.’

  Elston and the technician helped her stand. She began the painful walk back to her cell. When they got there Elston left the technician to lower her onto the small uncomfortable bed. She looked up at him, eyes wide and entreating. All full of tears and fright in her beautiful young face. He glanced down uncertainly.

  ‘I need to feel something,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I need to feel real again. Please.’

  He licked his lips and shot the open door a quick look.

  Angela took one of his hands and slid it down the top of her T-shirt. ‘Please.’ She held the other hand. ‘I want this.’ Her free hand caressed the side of his face. He grinned roguishly and bent over her. Angela jabbed her forefinger into his eye. The flesh gave beneath the tip of her finger, and she kept on pushing, squeezing down the soft orb. He screamed in agony and tried to jerk away, but his hand was caught up down her T-shirt. She crooked her finger and yanked back savagely, feeling tissue tearing. Blood poured out of the eye socket as the ball popped out. Angela laughed with demented pride. ‘Treat me like shit, motherfucker. Go on, do it again!’

  Guards ran in. Expressions of horror flaring. Angela aimed a kick at the first one. Three of them landed on her, and they all
crashed to the floor. Pain flashed red in her vision as the air was knocked out of her. Then she saw Elston race in.

  ‘Oh, Great Lord,’ he grunted. ‘You psycho bitch.’

  ‘You’re next, motherfucker.’ Angela squirmed and bucked below the weight of bodies. ‘You’re next.’

  Something pinched her shoulder. Something incredibly sharp. The world wobbled, then vanished.

  *

  ‘Out you come.’

  ‘Huh?’ Angela blinked awake. She felt utterly awful. There was a lot of ache, shoulders, arms, chest – all badly bruised. She thought she was going to throw up her gut felt so bad. The light was bright as it shone in through the back of the prison transfer van, making her squint and hold her hand up as a shield. She was sitting on a slim bench, dressed in prison overalls; hands and feet shackled.

  A female prison guard in a dark-blue uniform unlocked the securing pin, releasing her chains.

  ‘You’re not going to be a problem, Tramelo, are you?’

  Angela started to laugh. The thick burbling sound was dangerously close to demented.

  ‘Are you?’

  The laugh stopped as abruptly as it began. ‘Who me? Of course not.’

  ‘Of course not, ma’am.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘That’s better. Remember you and I have to get along together for a long time.’

  Twenty years.

  *

  Vance looked up as Captain Antrinell Viana walked in to his office. His welcoming smile was genuine enough. He’d served with Antrinell on a number of occasions, and found him highly competent. Antrinell was born on Matuskia, which had been settled by a coalition of Asian-Pacific nations. A quietly devout Christian, he had found nothing to interest him in their frantic expansionist capitalist economy where individuality was prized above all else, and social responsibility came a poor second in the race with personal success. After graduating with his degree in quantum cosmology, Antrinell had walked straight into the HDA recruitment office. With the Agency suffering a perennial shortage of science staff, his career advancement had been fast. His gravitation to the philosophy of the Gospel Warriors inevitable. Antrinell matched the smile. ‘Long time, Colonel.’ Vance came round the desk to shake hands. ‘Certainly is. How’s the family?’

  ‘Good, thank you. Artri started his first year at school.’

  ‘No! That makes him . . . five?’

  ‘Yes. And Simone is three.’

  ‘Ah, where does the time go?’

  ‘The Zanth eats it. So there’s really going to be an expedition?’ Antrinell asked, glancing round the basic office with a bemused expression. ‘Vermekia said it was in a holding pattern.’

  ‘That was yesterday. HDA is ready to greenlight. Commissioner Passam landed at Abellia three hours ago. She’s finalizing our operation parameters with Brinkelle North.’ He grinned wolfishly. ‘Now that’s one meeting I would like to see. They should have thrashed out the basics by tonight if they haven’t killed each other by then.’

  ‘Do we really need Brinkelle’s permission? St Libra is part of the trans-stellar alliance, after all.’

  ‘Legally no, of course not,’ Vance said. ‘But Brogal is her fiefdom, and Abellia is the gateway to that continent. The only one. We need all the Norths cooperating with us.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘They are. Especially Augustine.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘I’ll be leading one of the forward teams; I’d like you to be my second in command.’

  ‘I’d be delighted.’

  ‘There are a number of factors coming together for this. Is Jay’s squad with you?’

  ‘Yes. They’ve brought the quantum field monitoring equipment. I’m not sure how well it’s going to work, though – we’ve barely finished the design stage.’

  ‘But it will work?’ Vance asked pointedly.

  ‘Fundamentally, yes. We can detect the kind of backwash disturbance a Zanth rift will produce. It’s the level of sensitivity we’re attempting which is untried.’

  ‘I know, but we need to see if there’s been a small intrusion.’

  ‘Yes, I was given security clearance for the full file. A human-shaped monster? Really?’

  ‘It had to come from somewhere,’ Vance said reasonably.

  ‘Agreed. But it can’t be Zanth.’

  ‘Why not? We have no idea of the Zanth’s abilities.’

  ‘All right: why would the Zanth bother? If it wants Earth it will swarm and take it. Nothing we can do about it despite the rubbish our politicians and generals spout.’

  ‘True. So disprove it for me. Eliminate that possibility.’

  ‘I can’t prove a negative.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but if there is more activity down here and the detector doesn’t show anything it will strengthen the case about it coming here from St Libra.’

  ‘And justify the Expedition,’ Antrinell said. ‘I get that. But then I’m left asking how it came here through the gateway. Cargo? That’s your hypothesis?’

  ‘It was on St Libra, now it’s here. I don’t know how, I just know there’s a North in the morgue.’

  Antrinell held his hands up. ‘All right. I can see this has already got way too much momentum for simple logic to stop it. And I’m not going to be the one telling the emperor he’s naked.’

  ‘Thank you. How soon can you and Jay get the detectors up and running?’

  ‘There are fifteen units. We need to ring them around the city and interface them with HDA’s secure net. That’s going to take the better part of a day.’

  ‘All right. That’s better than I was expecting.’

  ‘Vance, are you really sure you want to commit to this? If it goes bad there’s going to be a nightmare of recrimination fallout.’

  Vance nodded slowly. ‘Believe me, I’ve thought about it. But there are parts of this which simply can’t be explained. And the General spoke to me personally; I’m going to be representing him on St Libra.’

  ‘Shaikh himself?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ah. Well, in that case, let’s hope Jesus smiles on us. With added kindness.’

  ‘We can do with all the help we can get,’ Vance acknowledged. It made a pleasant change having a fellow believer working with him. Too many people in the HDA frowned on the Gospel Warriors; the atheists and cynics, mocking the old concepts of faith. He’d long ago learned not to mention his devotion to the Lord to his fellow officers.

  An icon expanded in Vance’s iris smartcell grid. ‘Access the office mesh,’ he ordered his e-i.

  Corporal Paresh Evitts had arrived in the outer office, accompanying Angela Tramelo. The sight of her sweetly neutral expression told Vance all he needed to know.

  ‘Stay for this,’ he told Antrinell and went back behind the desk.

  The corporal knew he was in it up to his neck. He stood front and centre of the desk and snapped off a perfect salute. ‘Sir. Corporal Paresh Evitts reporting as ordered, sir.’

  ‘At ease, Corporal,’ Vance said. He’d worked with GE Legion troops before. They were good, a match for any other national forces. If they hit physical trouble he’d have no problem trusting his life to them. But Angela Tramelo wasn’t a combat zone – not the kind Legionnaires were used to, anyhow.

  ‘Corporal, you and I are going to spend a lot of time together over the next few months, so I’m going to make this very simple,’ Vance told him. ‘When you are given a direct order, especially concerning this woman, you follow it implicitly. You do not listen to her, you do not do as she asks, you carry out your duty. Any questions?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Angela said to the beleaguered corporal; the tone was impressively insolent. It matched the pout.

  ‘What were you doing in Last Mile?’ Vance asked.

  ‘Sir, buying some supplies for St Libra, sir.’

  ‘And it was her idea, yes?’

  Paresh Evitts licked his lips. ‘Yes, sir. Ms Tramelo s
aid that we should be prepared for the St Libra environment; she’s been there before and—’

  ‘Not interested. Wait outside. When Ms Tramelo comes out, you will escort her to her assigned billet with your squad. Nowhere else. Understood?’

  ‘Sir.’ Another perfect salute, and Corporal Evitts turned and exited the office.

  Vance told his e-i to cancel the grid, so he could look at Angela without any graphic overlays. ‘You’re such a bitch.’

  She grinned and plonked herself down in a chair opposite him. ‘Come on. I’m helping those poor boobs. They’re going to be dead anyway when we find the monsters’ nest or city or mothership or whatever the hell they live in. You wouldn’t deny them a last touch of comfort in their final days in this universe would you? Or are you going to tell me government-issue kit is going to be all we need in the jungle?’

  ‘Do not attempt to subvert my people. I will ship you straight back to Holloway.’

  Angela turned to stare at Antrinell, and raised a curious eyebrow before glancing back at Vance. ‘Straight back? Not like last time, when you snatched me and tortured me for months?’

  ‘You were not tortured.’

  ‘Really? I’m glad you think that. Because I think you haven’t forgotten the last thing I said to you back then. You remember, that day when your guards beat me into a coma.’

  Through teeth clenched tight together: ‘You were sedated after you ripped a man’s eyeball out. I remember that.’

  Angela gave a victory laugh. ‘Justifying yourself in front of your colleague. Religion always feeds its followers plenty of guilt. And a fundamentalist nut-job like you must get a real bad dose.’

  He glanced down at the small diamond and bronze pin in his suit collar. Trust her to know what it symbolized. ‘I have a problem with you,’ he said, ‘nothing else.’