The Beauty of Our Weapons

by Jilly Paddock

  Lyall nodded and led the bewildered woman away, not heeding her irate protests. He understood EI’s unwritten law and knew I couldn’t function at full capacity under the eyes of a stranger. Although I’d never suffered the official induction course and didn’t have the blocks-and-checks of most agent-pairs, I didn’t like to use my powers openly in front of those with no need to know about them. Meeka believed she knew a lot about pairs, but she’d never seen us at work. I didn’t intend to remedy that lack now.

  Where’s our thief?

  I’ve lost her signal. Zenni confessed. Her presence blinked out on my scan, as if she’d reached her destination and been deactivated, perhaps as a safeguard to conceal her use in criminal activities. I have her last known position on record.

  I need to get there. I peered helplessly into the hole, but its dimensions were obviously too small for me to pass through.

  You might teleport, or would that be showing our hand too soon?

  Behind me there was a bass rumble of amusement and I turned slowly. I’d never seen a tiger grin before, but the construct contrived to do so and it wasn’t an encouraging sight. I thought of the limerick and wondered if I could take the creature out before it ate me.

  Yes we could. Zenni assured. But we won’t need to. It won’t attack, Combat isn’t part of its behaviour set.

  “What are you doing outside your province?” I asked aloud. “I thought you couldn’t leave the clearing.”

  “This unit is progammed to be of assistance.” Its voice was deep and vibrant, as impressive as its sleek body.

  I decided to chance my arm. “Where does this tunnel go?”

  “It leads to the undercity. The area beneath and around Krystallya has a substructure covering many square kilometres and as deep as five levels down in places. The mountain city is for the tourists, but the Tambou prefer to live in the underworld of Lowkrys.” The tiger paused to scratch an ear with a hind paw, a position ungainly in the common house-cat but insupportably ludicrous in an animal of his dignity and size.

  “Can I go down there?”

  “There are doors,” the big cat said. “Only Tambou use them. Tourists do not go to Lowkrys.”

  “I need to. It’s very important.”

  The tiger surveyed me for a while with unblinking green gem eyes, only the tip of his tail twitching to betray the inner search of his memory banks. Finally he spoke, as if granting a great favour. “This unit will show you a door. Please follow.”

  He stalked at my side, guiding me with the pressure of his striped flank against my hip, weaving in and out of the trees until we were a good two hundred yards from his clearing. He halted by a chestnut tree, a gnarled, spreading giant that seemed no different to any other of its species. The construct sniffed at a tussock of grass at the roots of the tree, then pressed his paw awkwardly to the spot. I watched in amazement as a large oval section of bark subsided six inches into the trunk and slid back to form a doorway. The interior of the tree was hollow and walled with steel plate. A spiral staircase descended into darkness below.

  “Simulated talking animals and artificial armour-plated trees!” I exclaimed. “Hell of a way to turn your back on technology! I don’t pretend to know why you’re showing me this, but thanks a million!”

  The big cat purred. “This unit was instructed to conduct you to a door.”

  I stiffened at the implications behind that. “Oh? Who by?”

  “No data remains on that program input.” The tiger admitted. “If the task is complete, this unit will depart.”

  “I free you to go.”

  He retraced his steps through the trees and was lost to the shadows before I stepped through the doorway. The first step was pressure-sensitive and my weight triggered the mechanism, sliding the door back into place and locking me into inky blackness. I put one hand out to the wall for comfort, taking a steadying breath before the enclosed space could press in on me.

  Silly us—we forgot to pack a dark-light sensor, Zenni said. Here.

  I plucked the item down from Brimstone, a cold metal disc with a pin on its reverse. I fastened it by touch to my top, hissing as I scratched the skin beneath. The interior of the tree became visible again, sharp but in monochrome.

  “Are you getting the feeling we were herded into this?” I muttered, beginning the descent. In the close confines of the trunk my shallow breathing sounded inordinately loud, and each time I shifted a foot, the sweat-slick skin and the metallic step parted company with a distinct ‘schlick!’. The stairs went down for thirty feet and then ended abruptly in a door. In our differing fashions, we both scanned the area beyond.

  East-west corridor, ten feet high and ten wide. Zenni supplied. Central power line, probably for lights. The air’s fresh and five degrees cooler than outside.

  We have a welcoming committee. Only two of them, against this wall to either side of the door—a classic ambush. One’s a Tambou, the other’s a construct. I frowned. I can’t tell what kind of animal it’s meant to be, but it’s large. Options?

  Go through the door.

  And walk straight into the ambush?

  It may be the ideal way to find Chandre. They’ll probably take you to her.

  I looked longingly back up the tree, but as I didn’t know the trick of the door, there was no easy way out. I suppose you’re right, but if things take a turn for the worst, I’m deserting fast. A Tambou I can handle with one arm strapped behind my back. I’m not sure about a construct.

  Its abilities will depend on what kind of body it wears. Simulacra can be designed super-strong, super-smart or super-fast, and they’re notoriously difficult to put out of action. High enough voltage will scramble its circuits and an impact violent enough to shatter its skull will smash its brain below a viable operating threshold, yet it may be armoured against such attacks if it’s built for combat. Aside from that, orthodox weapons do little immediate damage. As long as its brain is functional, it can sidestep the pain and keep a mortally-wounded body in action, much as we can.

  I’ll bear that in mind. I took a breath and opened the door.

  For an instant I stood in the doorway, part-blind in the corridor’s brilliance, and in that split-second I lost the fight. Someone caught my shoulders and hauled me through the door. I hung like a dangled baby in an immense pair of hands, looking down at the construct, who wore the body of a giant. His bald head must have topped the eight foot mark, his shoulders spread half the width of the corridor and he was muscled like your average bull elephant. In contrast to his bulk, there was a surprising gentleness in the soft planes of his face, but the vacant look in his eyes fed my fear. He held me easily at arm’s length, higher than his head, so that my hair brushed the ceiling, and his evident lack of effort in doing so only made me feel more helpless. I did what any self-respecting woman would have done in the circumstances—I opened my mouth and screamed five shades of blue murder. This reaction did little to endear me to my captors.

  “Silence her!” snapped the Tambou. “But gently, Ruane!”

  The construct lowered me two feet and swung me sideways. At the last instant I divined his intention and managed to go limp before I hit the wall, which saved me from immediate unconsciousness. The impact cut my scream dead, knocking all the breath from my lungs, the agony calling tears into my eyes. The giant released me and I rolled down the wall to make another nerve-shattering acquaintance with the floor. Groggy from the first blow, I put up no resistance when the Tambou used a greasy scrap of cloth to gag me.

  Anna! Zenni didn’t often sound hysterical, but I could appreciate that this was a moment of extreme stress. Anna! Are you injured?

  I tried to make an impartial assessment as the Tambou bundled me into a net. The construct picked me up as if I were a bag of feathers, slung me across his back and loped after the native.

  I don’t think anything’s broken, but I’ll be technicolour down one side in a few hours. I squirmed against the scratchy rope, trying to find a way to lie that
didn’t bring my maltreated shoulder into contact with the iron muscles of the giant’s back with every stride. I sure hope they were gentler with Chandre!

  My captors kept up the cracking pace for many minutes and I grew heartily sick of bouncing around in the rough net. There are ways of inuring yourself to pain and I was glad I’d learnt a few over the years—I surely needed them now. Zenni was my rock in the storm, forcing me to stay rational and calm. At last the giant slowed to a walk, then crouched and squeezed his bulk through a door. The corridor beyond was lower and he was forced to duck his head to avoid the roof. We negotiated a second door, then a third and, without warning, he dropped me. I bit back a cry of protest. Unless I was very much mistaken this piece of floor was stone—it was colder and harder than the steel plate of the corridor. I lay very still and feigned a swoon, which took precious little acting ability.

  Anna? said the voice in my head.

  I’m still with you.

  You’ve arrived at the point I tracked the lemur to.

  I can’t say I’m surprised. I didn’t dare open my eyes, so I listened intently and risked a feather-light scan. The mind of the construct was a void ten feet to my left and the Tambou stood close to him. As I surveyed my captors, a door creaked on the far side of the room and a light tread came to my side.

  “I did ask you to handle her carefully, Mantoux.” There was a note of reproach in the woman’s high, clear voice. “This isn’t the child’s mother or the Earthman. Do we know who she is?”

  “She came in on the Carthage Queen out of Akaron, but it seems she’s from the Barnard system,” the Tambou replied. “She went straight to the Opal to contact the Earthings, and she’s been with them ever since.”

  I wondered how they gained access to the orbital computers from the surface, but my musings were interrupted by a foot landing squarely in my ribs. I moaned and blinked up into a harsh white light.

  “That’s better.” Satisfaction warmed the woman’s voice and I knew who owned the offending foot. “Take the net off her—she can’t escape from here. Take the gag off as well. I want to talk to her.”

  The Tambou obeyed, shoving me back against the wall. I propped myself up and cultivated a beaten, wary look. The room was thirty feet across and bare except for the two doors. The construct stood by the one we had used as an entrance, looming even larger from my present viewpoint.

  I switched my attention to the woman, an off-worlder, judging from the metallic sheen of her skin. Her hair fell to her waist, a waterfall of bright silver, flamboyant against the black of her short tunic. When she swept back a strand of it with her left hand I saw the extra finger, perfectly formed but stiff and dysfunctional. Her face was hidden behind an opaque black visor, yet I couldn’t shake the vague impression that I knew her. In her turn, she studied me, removing the visor to see better. Her eyes were concealed behind total mirror lenses and her lips were painted in with ink, but her features were familiar. All at once, I placed her. I do know her!

  Wherever would you have met the likes of her? Zenni asked, perplexed. Who is she?

  This is our Madame Hanna, only the last time I saw her the skin was flat white, the hair black and she called herself Nansi Ruhanna. Around ten years ago, Lewis took me to a multiworld conference on computers and Nansi was there, with her uncle, Ilke Ruhanna.

  Director of Transyst-Interworld?

  The very same. I gritted my teeth, recalling more. The part about her being an Ovambon citizen is true—she’s Cluster born and bred. Could she be a member of the Sisterhood?

  There’s no sure way to tell, but we might find a clue. Take a look at her left wrist.

  That black chain bracelet? Wait a minute, it isn’t a bracelet—it’s tattooed into the skin.

  It’s not exactly a tattoo, although the process is similar. The base levels of the epidermis are impregnated with a complex metal alloy, a process which is rumoured to be very painful. It’s only commonplace among members of a handful of Cluster religious cults. While EI have no solid evidence to link any of them with the Sisterhood of Grace, there are ample suspicions.

  Nansi ended her scrutiny. “Who are you?”

  “Why should I tell you?” I half-sobbed. “When the local police catch up with you—”

  “My dear, don’t bargain on being rescued.” She smiled, displaying teeth of polished jet, obscene against her silvery pallor. “I assure you, there is no hope of that, as you’d realise if you knew more about the native excuse for law enforcement—they have six mounted police, two drug-sniffing dogs and an ace detective who couldn’t deduce his way out of a wet paper bag! As for why you should tell me what I ask, I believe you’ve had a taste of Ruane’s treatment?” She nodded at the construct. “It isn’t human, you know. Inside that body is an artificial brain which will do anything I tell it to. Anything. And if you believe those fairy stories that say robots can’t harm humans, forget them. I can always have it break a few of your less vital bones to illustrate the flaws in those fantasies. Now, my dear, what is your name?”

  “C...caron.” I appeared suitably subdued. I hadn’t liked Nansi ten years ago when I’d thought her a foul-tempered, spoilt brat, and I saw no reason to change that opinion. Perhaps she was too old to be called a brat, but she’d learnt sadism and she was dangerous. “Caron McVeigh.”

  “A farmer’s daughter from the Barnard system?”

  “My grandfather was a terraforming engineer.”

  “So, even the poorest have pride, eh?” Nansi sneered. “What are you doing in the undercity?”

  “I was trying to follow the monkey-thing.”

  This brought a full-blown laugh, acid and cruel. “You thought you might rescue the woman and child? You? How do you come to be involved with the Earth people anyway?”

  “My family know them. Our holidays happened to coincide and I decided to look them up.” I buried my face in my hands. “Some holiday!”

  Nansi stroked her chin with a neatly-manicured finger, the nail as sooty as her lips. “Such a neat explanation, so promptly delivered and so plausible. No, no, it won’t do. Caron, dear, your story is very good. Too good. My instinct tells me not to believe you.”

  “But it’s true!”

  “Is it really?” She lifted an elegant silver brow. “Tell me, what do you think a simple farmer’s daughter would do if she was kidnapped, badly beaten and threatened? I doubt she’d be as calm as you are. Who are you really?”

  “I’m Caron McVeigh—”

  “Ruane, this woman no longer requires the use of her left arm.” Nansi licked her lips. “Kindly break it for her.”

  The giant moved towards me and I let my control slip, not having to amplify the reaction much. “No! Oh, my god, no! Please, I beg you!” I crawled into the corner, pressing myself against the rock. “I’m Caron... I really am! I wouldn’t lie to you! Please don’t hurt me!”

  She waited until the construct had laid one hand on my wrist and I was almost incoherent with terror. “Ruane, stop. Release her and go back to your place.”

  You really are good at fear! Zenni applauded.

  Who’s acting? I continued to whimper, my eyes fixed on the giant’s retreating back.

  “Pathetic!” Nansi said, with contempt. “You’re as bad as that Terran woman. All I had to do was threaten the child and she was eating out of my hand. Pathetic—no backbone!”

  “What will you do with me?” I asked, through tears.

  “We’ll hold you until we know more about you.” She decided. “You might be worth something, though I doubt it. If you have no value to us, you’ll die—it’s as simple as that.”

  “No! Please don’t kill me...!”

  “Spare me your babbling!” She touched an outlined triangle on the buckle of her belt, without any audible or visible result.

  Ultrasonic call sign. Zenni informed.

  Calling what?

  Fur brushed against my arm and I jumped. I hadn’t heard the approach of the lemur simulacrum nor seen where it had
come from, yet it appeared at my elbow carrying a bulky object in its delicate hands. In that fraction of a second I recognised the impact-syringe, but the little devil was speed-enhanced, firing the load into my arm before I could send the command to my muscles to move. A cry froze in my throat and I couldn’t lift my hand to reach the creature. There was only innocence in its bright black eyes as it skipped out of my way as I fell.

  “Pathetic!” Nansi said for the third time, turning her back. “You’d think that Earth Intelligence would find better!”

  Night came down with a crash, severing my link to Zenni. I didn’t even hear the start of his panic.

  Chapter Eight: Beneath the Stone

  I left Lyall when a cute ginger-maned chambermaid knocked shyly at his door to tuck the invalid in and read him a bedtime story—I think it was Little Red Riding Hood. It struck me as a little odd that she wore a white frilled apron over her short-skirted black dress, not to mention the seamed stockings, stiletto heels and a blue ribbon wound into her spinal hair, ending in a sweet little bow at the small of her back. She carried a feather duster and giggled as she used it to tickle the telepath under the chin. Lyall winked at me as I shut the door on the pair of them.

  My own room was a dark space of perfume blown in from the terraces, a cool sea of moss-rose and jasmine. Unruly crowds of shadows gibbered in its corners. Out on the balcony I found the night uncloaked in all her glory; her hair aflame with alien stars, her breath a whisper of subtle music over the sleepy city, as she sang to me of deadly heresies and sorrow. I kicked off my sandals and climbed onto the stone parapet, balancing there and swaying on my toes, drinking in the wonder of it all.

  “Don’t jump!” murmured a shadow, to my right.

  “Oh, do!” sniggered another, on my left.

  I looked behind. On one hand, a dove-winged angel hid her true features behind a porcelain mask of my face; on the other, a kindly-eyed devil bowed his horned head and blew me a kiss.