The Saints of Salvation

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “Let’s go,” Kohei said. He wanted to keep Ollie moving, not give him time to stop and think. There was something about him, a vulnerability, that Kohei found unsettling. It had taken ten minutes just to coax him out of his fleshmask and bomb collar. Ten minutes they couldn’t afford.

  Ollie glanced uneasily at the portal and its guard of paramilitaries. “Where does it go?”

  “I told you. Nikolaj is in Chelsea, the Paynor family’s house on Pelham Crescent. This portal goes to a house on Onslow Square, just around the corner.”

  “Pelham Crescent?”

  “Yes, it’s on the Fulham Road. Let’s go.” He gestured impatiently.

  Ollie looked around without much interest at the room they emerged into. Typical old posh London: a sitting room with high ceilings, big sash windows, and expensive furnishings—which had all been pushed against one wall. Made Claudette Beaumant’s place look cheap. The paramilitaries followed him and Kohei through. Another squad of them was already in the house, making it seem cramped.

  Kohei walked him through into the hall with its classic black-and-white marble floor. “Right, Lolo is online. You have one minute to confirm sie’s okay and that we’ve kept our side of the deal.”

  It took Ollie a moment to understand what he’d been told. The pain from the peripherals they’d just inserted was pulsing into his brain despite the local anesthetics. His thoughts were foggy, numb, as if everything around him were on some kind of time delay before it registered. Lolo’s icon splashed across his tarsus lens.

  “Hey, you,” Ollie said. “So where are you?”

  “Back on Akitha. I’m really here, Ollie! I’m somewhere in the capital; I recognize the skyline.”

  “What about Gran and Bik?”

  “They came through the portal with me, but then Lim Tianyu went with them somewhere else. I’m not allowed to go there, apparently.”

  Ollie scowled at Kohei.

  “It’s an ultra-secure facility,” Kohei said in a jaded voice. “Sie’s not got anything like the clearance to visit. But sie’ll have full observation access to the procedure. Right now, the escort team is waiting for hir family to arrive. As you can imagine, they’re in quite a state.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” Ollie grunted. He’d never thought about Lolo’s family. Sie’d rarely mentioned them, other than telling him how an expanded Utopials family was superior to any other arrangement.

  “Wrap it up,” Kohei said.

  “Love you, Lolo,” Ollie said. “You’re the best.”

  “Ollie, darling, please be careful.”

  “Middle name.”

  “No it’s not. It’s not. It never is.”

  “Listen, this will all be over in half an hour. They’ve given me some really fancy peripherals, best ever. I’ll join you right afterward, okay?”

  “Promise me!”

  There was no way of telling over a comm connection, but Ollie just knew sie was crying. Again. “I promise. You think I want to leave our kid without a dad?”

  “Ollie!”

  “Gotta go. Be seeing you.”

  The paramilitaries abandoned the hall, stepping back through the doorways. Kohei opened the front door.

  “You won’t see us,” he told Ollie, “but we’ll be with you. There’s a lot of synth-bugs in that house. We’ll watch every second.”

  Ollie stepped outside. “Got it,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Hey, Ollie…”

  “What?”

  “Good luck,” Kohei said solemnly. “I mean it.”

  “Sure.”

  The glossy black door closed, leaving Ollie alone under the stone portico. London’s dry air gusted around the stark dead trees in the square to stroke his face. He wasn’t used to that; it was the first time in too long he’d ventured outside without his fleshmask. The medics who’d inserted the peripherals had given him some cream for his cheeks and nose, but it still felt weird. His bare skin was so sensitive.

  He walked out onto the main clear path along Sydney Place, just a few meters to Fulham Road. Turn left, and Pelham Crescent was directly ahead. The white Georgian building glowed malevolently under the devil-sky, curving around a small park that was like every other open space in the city in Blitz2—a forlorn cemetery of trees and bushes.

  * * *

  —

  Ollie’s thoughts were still numb as he walked up to the front door. A man was standing outside. He broke the spell. Ollie grinned at him. Expensive suit, dark—always dark. It was the uniform for a low-level family soldier. A warning frown was growing on his face as he stared down; his hands made a move on gesture.

  Ollie knew there was only one way to handle this—the way Piotr would have done it: with overwhelming confidence.

  “You,” Ollie snapped. “I’m here to see Nikolaj. Open up.”

  “Piss off.”

  “Not a chance. She owes me. You either let me in now, or I come back with a missile drone and I blow the door open while you’re still standing in front of it. So you make your little secure call to her. You tell her Ollie from the Legion is here, and then you open the fucking door.”

  Ollie watched uncertainty shade the man’s face. A pause, then hatred was crowding out the doubt. The door swung open. Ollie smirked mockingly as he stepped inside.

  There was no sign of any member of the Paynor family inside. There hadn’t been for months, Kohei had told him, since they infiltrated the place with synth-bugs. They didn’t know what Nikolaj had done to them—killed them or held them hostage somewhere else. Either way, she was now running the family’s operations, such as they were, during Blitz2.

  The house was like a five-star boutique hotel, the current guests untouched by the events of the last two years. The family’s senior lieutenants had their own rooms. They ate together in the dining room, which certainly had no rationing. They partied every night with young boys and girls, fueled by zero-nark (mild cut only; Nikolaj still expected them to perform their duties outside). They wore Savile Row suits and played with any trinket they wanted.

  Walking amid the decadence, Ollie felt sick. This was going to be the Legion, the life they’d desired—richer, more successful. Do these people know they’re helping the Olyix? How could they not? So they don’t care. Bastards!

  A teenage boy was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, completely naked apart from a silver necklace with a ruby-encrusted pendant that was a nest for nark pads. He was a golden youth whose striking features were even more eye-catching than Lolo’s. Following him up the stairs, all Ollie could think was how this kid was barely older than Bik.

  “Nikolaj has a suite on the second floor,” Kohei had said. “We’ve never seen her leave it. So if they try taking you somewhere else, it’s a trap.”

  They reached the landing. A couple of the family’s soldiers stood at the top of the stairs. One was even bulkier than Lars, though the musculature looked a lot sleeker—the difference between a gorilla and a panther. Trying to ignore the silent intimidation as they fell in on either side of him, Ollie walked along with head held high. The kid knocked on a dark oak-paneled door at the far end of the landing, then waited.

  Tye told him he was being deep scanned, which would expose all the systems left over from his Legion days that he’d shifted into his jacket. Nikolaj would expect something like that. But this was where he’d find out just how good Lim’s new peripherals were.

  The door opened. Ollie went inside while Tye assessed the door. It was what it seemed to be—ordinary oak without any modern reinforcement mesh. Even the locks were basic. That was a worry. After he killed Nikolaj, he’d need to hold off the family soldiers until Kohei’s paramilitaries stormed in to rescue him. And he wasn’t sure that door would last against the weapons and muscles he’d already seen.

  It was a pleasant enough lounge: a big an
tique desk, leather couches, a high-quality stage, the curtains drawn shut, and a chandelier blazing bright as if it was still drawing power from a solarwell. Nikolaj was standing in front of the desk, head tilted to one side as she appraised him. Icons splashed across his tarsus lens. Her altme was connected to the house’s network, but the encryption was high-level. Tye couldn’t break it.

  Planning, always planning, even now. If I use the desk to barricade the door, it might hold them a little longer. All he needed to do was work out how the hell to shift the monstrosity across five meters of thick pile carpet.

  Tye scanned the room, searching for hidden weaponry. If there was any, his passive sensors couldn’t locate it. Ollie tried to think where he would emplace it while Tye continued to scan; it wouldn’t hurt to verify the synth-bugs were watching over him.

  “You’ve got some balls, showing up here,” Nikolaj said.

  Ollie faced her, target graphics locking onto her head. She was taller than Jade—leaner, too, as the blouse and red trousers revealed. Hair cut short, styled badly in Ollie’s opinion, making her head seem oddly long, especially with that thin nose and rounded chin.

  Do it. Just do it now. Come on.

  But there was a score to settle first. He owed the Legion that much. She had to know. And it was what Kohei demanded for his flesh. So he said: “The Paynor family owes me. It owes me a lot for Croydon.”

  “Oh, Ollie, I’m very disappointed.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. I don’t even care about the money.”

  “Then what do you care about?”

  “Do you know what Jade said to me, just before the police raided Lichfield Road? Before the last of my friends died in the fight?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah, it matters. It’s the only thing in the world that matters.”

  “Somehow I doubt that, but tell me anyway. I can see how it’s eating you up.”

  Ollie’s tarsus lens remained focused unerringly on Nikolaj, with Tye analyzing her skin’s infrared emissions, searching for a temperature fluctuation—any anomaly that would show a peripheral going active. But there was nothing. That wasn’t right. “She said: Olyix forever.”

  He waited, watching for the alarm in her eyes—the realization that he knew she was a traitor. But instead she pursed her lips. “No.”

  “What?”

  “That is not what the Kou-Jade said to you. You’re lying. Why?”

  “Who the fuck is Kou—” It was very strange. Ollie heard the loud bang at the same time the world seemed to freeze and he went completely numb. Then his view shifted as he toppled over.

  Every sense returned, shrieking into his brain. He hit the floor amid an agony so intense he thought it would burst his brain apart. Eyes looked along his body, past his waist to…Ollie screamed in terror. His legs were gone, shredded into a puddle of gore that glistened across the carpet. Behind him, there was a five-centimeter hole in the door.

  “Analysis indicates you have been hit by a wyst bullet,” Tye said; its voice seemed to throb in time to the red medical alerts splashed across his vision. The world was retreating, cold seeping along his spine and making him shudder.

  Then Jade was there in front of him, kneeling down to frown gently at him. “You’re bleeding out,” she said. “But I can save you.” She beckoned.

  The door opened, and the naked boy came in. He was holding a large pistol in one hand and a medical case in the other.

  “I’m going to apply Kcell patches on your wounds, Ollie. No one has to die, not anymore. We will save all of you. We love you.”

  Ollie tried to talk, but annoyingly his mouth had trouble working.

  Jade leaned in closer. “What?”

  “Everybody dies,” Ollie told her happily. “So let’s you and me go meet the Legion together.” And he ordered Tye to fire the new weapons peripherals. All of them.

  * * *

  —

  Kohei ran up the stairs, close behind the paramilitaries and just ahead of the paramedics. Gunfire resonated through the house as the last of the Paynor family lieutenants were taken out. They weren’t being given the chance to surrender.

  Into the lounge.

  “Shit!”

  Three bodies on the floor. One: a naked boy, his left pectoral muscle in tatters, forming a crater around the hole the micro-missile had torn on its way to his heart. Two: Ollie, on his back, legs missing below his hips, a wide smear of pulped meat across the carpet where the wyst bullet had unleashed its deadly fibers, pureeing his bone and muscle from the inside. Blood was still pulsing weakly out of the broken femoral arteries. Beyond Ollie, Nikolaj was body number three. There was a neat hole in her temple where the organ-buster kinetic had penetrated her skull, leaving a soup of mashed alien brain to leak out from ears, nostrils, and mouth. Micro-missiles had detonated in her hips and elbows, severing her limbs from her torso.

  Kohei’s helmet visor slid up as he kneeled beside Ollie. He struggled for something to say. “You got the bitch.” Cursing himself for such inanity. “You saved London, Ollie.”

  The paramedics started shoving emergency modules on Ollie’s ragged leg stumps. Kohei had seen enough injuries in his time to know their efforts were all useless.

  Ollie’s jaw moved laboriously, releasing a gurgled whisper.

  “What?” Kohei leaned down, straining to hear.

  “Fuck you.” A last grimaced smile.

  The medical kit started emitting shrill warning tones. Kohei sat back, letting out an abject sigh as he closed his eyes. “Chief, whatever you’ve planned, it better be Goddamn spectacular.” He gave the order for his tactical teams to intercept the sabotage operations Nikolaj was running against London’s shields. “With extreme prejudice, every motherfucking one of them.”

  GOX-NIKOLAJ QUINT

  SALVATION OF LIFE DECEMBER 11, 2206

  Fuuuuck! As always, the pain of violent body death was excruciating. Our human Nikolaj body was struck by so many weapons; Ollie Heslop had five peripherals secreted in his flesh. They must have been of Neána design, for the house’s sensors had missed them completely. That doesn’t surprise me. Neána treachery is a constant in this universe. I’m sure the God at the End of Time will deal with them severely for their defiance.

  I knew something was wrong with the encounter. Ollie Heslop was tense with worry when he entered my office. I acknowledge that was to be expected. Like so many humans, he was badly traumatized by the impending kindness of our purpose in elevating his species. However, his mind was also tainted by the events of Lichfield Road and Kou-Jade’s last fight. We would all be very interested to know what happened to the Kou-Jade’s human body. The human team that assaulted the house were clearly trying to capture her.

  Ollie Heslop had many tells. After all my time spent among humans, especially those of disrepute, I knew something was wrong. Emotional association is an alien trait that I’ll have to purge after the elevation is complete, but until then it allows me to operate efficiently on Earth.

  Then Ollie Heslop spoke his lie. Those were not Kou-Jade’s last words. I assumed he was nerving himself up to enact some pitiful act of vengeance, as so many humans do. Naturally, I instructed Joel to shoot. The shot would maim Ollie Heslop to a near fatal degree. He could then be subdued, and we would embrace him lovingly.

  Then the little shit went and—

  No, that is badthought. That is human thought, contamination from the emulation we use to mask our identity in Nikolaj’s body. It is expelled now. I am Gox. I am Quint. Not human.

  Ollie Heslop used his hidden peripherals. I felt agony in my shoulders and hips. Horror flooded my unified mind at seeing our human limbs being blown off my torso by micro-missiles. Human bodyshock overwhelmed all my bodies. Damn, I hate such weakness.

  Ollie Heslop was lying on the floor, looking at me as I wailed helpl
essly. His lips parted in a vicious sneer. A peripheral in his right wrist tracked around until I was staring directly into its narrow muzzle. There was a flash—

  It took too long to recover equanimity. Every time it is longer than before. All my bodies feel discomfort at this, as if letting go of a human emulation is somehow a bad thing.

  My remaining bodies were still for a moment. Taking a breath—if we were human.

  Desist. There are no emotion-triggering floods of neurochemicals in my four remaining quint brains. They are perfect. I am not subject to random, animal bursts of chaos. Quint superiority is paramount.

  The Salvation of Life’s onemind became aware of my disquiet. “Explain what has occurred,” it required.

  “I have reverted to four Gox. My human Nikolaj body was eliminated.”

  “How?”

  “It was shot by a human: Ollie Heslop. The only surviving member of the Southwark Legion street gang.”

  “Identity correlated. He was used to attack the London power supply grid at Croydon.”

  “I confirm. Humans of his low status are easy to mislead. They are greed-susceptible.”

  “Why did he kill your Gox-Nikolaj body?”

  I paused, considering my response. Ollie Heslop’s fervor provided testimony to his mental state, the driven fury of vengeance lust. A so-human trait. And yet—there was something wrong about the act. Something intangible. “His given motive was that he sought retribution on Nikolaj. He considered himself betrayed by Kou-Jade, his ostensible colleague in the crime family contracting the Legion. Such a reaction is common with humans. With the eradication of their society’s strictures, similar altercations are becoming common.”

  “Explain your doubt.”

  “I. Have…Definition in this instance is complicated and tenuous. It is my instinct. I have experienced more time in association with humans than any other quint. I have witnessed them in extremis. I have a large familiarity with them. Something about this encounter does not play right.”