since that would diminish its glory and harm its ability
to provide guidance to less mature civilisations. Instead,
they serve the Hegemony's purpose, as must you now.'
Greg stared at him. 'But when our government finds
out
Kuros shook his head. 'As of roughly forty minutes
ago, the colony's governing executive ceased to func-
tion due to the deaths of President Sundstrom and his
cabinet in a rocket attack on the Assembly buildings. Of
course, my government and our Brolturan allies are
ready to offer any assistance in this crisis.' He leaned
forward a little. 'But now I need you to concentrate on
my voice and listen very carefully.'
Then the Hegemony envoy said several strange
words, a phrase in Sendrukan perhaps, enunciated
clearly and precisely . . .
An odd sensation passed through Greg, a disorien-
tating shiver that felt like sounds and tastes and smells,
or was it... a shiver that passed through his surround-
ings, adding something familiar to it all, the furniture,
the hangings, the smiling Sendrukan seated before him.
And for some reason he felt like smiling too - even
though reason told him that he was still in danger.
'Now, Doctor Cameron, what do you know about
the involvement of your uncle, Major Karlsson, in yes-
terday's disappearance of Ambassador Horst?'
'Oh, Uncle Theo brought the ambassador to Giant's
Shoulder in the evening but when I heard that the
Brolturans were coming we all went down to hide in the
well chamber ...'
'Stop,' said Kuros, his posture and unwavering stare
betraying a more intense regard. 'Tell me about this well
chamber.'
And to Greg's horror, he told the Sendrukan all about
the well chamber, the traps, the Sentinel, the Uvovo and
their part in its history, Horst's abduction, everything he
knew. Greg had no control over the flow of words
which came out in an almost happy jabber, as if he were
talking about soccer scores with a close friend over a
pint. Likewise, the muscles of mouth and throat were
being directed by something else, something in his
mind ...
Am I going crazy"! he wondered. Have they made me
mad...
At last Kuros was satisfied, told him to stop and in
mid-sentence Greg fell silent. Kuros smiled thoughtfully
then held up the small blue vial he had brought to the
table - it contained what looked like a fine powder.
'Your talkativeness has, of course, been artificially
induced. While you were semi-conscious earlier, we
instilled an instrumentation into your body, engineered
particles fine enough to become a vapour which you
breathed in, allowing them to quickly find their way to
the ridges and grooves of your brain. They are keyed to
my voice and, having meshed with your synaptic path-
ways, are capable of many things including the divulging
of anything that you know.' Kuros smiled at the blue
vial, tipping the contents to and fro. 'We have encoun-
tered a few races with the ability to resist the vapour -
Humans are not one of them, which makes you very
useful.'
He uttered another phrase in Sendrukan and Greg
caught the sense of it for just a second, a lyrical expres-
sion, a line of poetry perhaps. Then a barrier went down
and his fear and hate connected with the muscles in his
face and his throat and chest, a rushing slam of rage that
came out as a wordless cry.
'Thank you, Doctor Cameron, you have been most
helpful. I look forward to the weeks ahead,' High
Monitor Kuros said as he stood, towering over the
Human.
'You said I... was going back with Laing ...'
'That was only part of the opening formalities, Doctor
Cameron, which must always be observed. No, it will be
announced publicly that we find you innocent of all
charges, then you will say that you have agreed to lead
a joint Human-Sendrukan team dedicated to investigat-
ing new, exciting finds at Giant's Shoulder. A gesture of
solidarity between our two great civilisations, a
strengthening of our precious alliance.'
Greg, head bowed, said nothing. Kuros, though, mut-
tered to himself for a moment or two before addressing
Greg again.
'Doctor Cameron, my inner companion, General
Gratach, wishes to speak to you.'
Greg glanced up to see a change come over Kuros's
features as the Sendrukan reached down and roughly
grasped Greg's jaw, forcing him to look up. Fury and
contempt burned in those eyes.
'I am Gratach, Human - when I capture your uncle,
this Major Kalsun, he will not receive such soft treatment.
I will break him and crush him, then break all you Hum in
rabble and your talking pets!'
The big hand released Greg's jaw and the Sendruk in
turned aside, his face altering once more, as did his stance.
'You will be working with us for a long time to come,
Doctor Cameron,' Kuros said as he moved towards the
double doors. 'Reconcile yourself to your part and you
will reap the rewards. Now I must leave to deal with the
current crisis and ensure that peace and stability return
to Darien.' He left, both doors closing silently behind
him.
Seated there, bound to the chair, Greg's thoughts
dwelled on Kuros's words about that vapour of engi-
neered particles, and imagined the worst.
The peace of death, he thought. Or the nearest thing
to it. Is this what they have planned for us, infecting us
with their vapour, turning us all into happy, compliant
serfs? God help us ...
And what were they going to do to him, or even
make him do? Be the Human mask for their operations
on Darien? Betray his friends, perhaps? - that might be
the worst thing that he could imagine, but he had no
doubt that the vapour's designers had dreamed up a few
more.
As he sat there he could hear other occupants moving
around in the big house, the muffled sound of voices,
the tread of feet in the corridor outside. Then one of the
room's double doors began to open quite slowly to a
quarter of the way before closing again, gradually, with-
out haste and without anyone entering. Greg stared,
thinking dully that maybe a guard had started to come
in, then changed his mind.
'Friend Gregori. . .' came a whisper from nearby.
And before his eyes the air darkened and Chel
emerged like someone stepping through a liquid door.
Then the diminutive Uvovo staggered over to lean on
the table, the short fur on his face and neck bristling and
all four of his new eyes glaring out at the surrounding
room.
'Forgive me, Gregori. . .' Chel began.
'Chel! - in the name of . . . how did ye get in here?
How did ... I mean, you were invisible.'
'Observation is alteration, friend Gregori - these eyes
/>
create strange avenues.' Chel was recovering, standing
straighten 'I have found that I can perceive hidden
meanings and consequences in what I see, but I can also
temporarily alter consequences, like making the air
become a concealing shell which enabled me to climb
aboard the zeplin that took you away, and then to find
my way here after the landing.'
'You look exhausted,' Greg said.
'Well observed,' Chel said as he turned to regard Greg
with all six eyes, whereupon he froze on the spot, staring.
And Greg knew what he was seeing and knew that Chel
would still try to rescue him.
'I see them,' Chel murmured. 'And they can see
me . .. Greg, what are those things?'
He tried to explain the concept of nano-engineered
particles as a mechanism of control but had to settle for
the idea of 'the dust of the Dreamless', a kind of ghost
entity put in his head to compel obedience.
'And I don't see how it's possible to get it out again,'
he said. 'So that makes me a danger to you and everyone
else - you really should leave me here and go ...'
Chel blinked in sequence, a bizarre sight to behold,
then he reached down to Greg's bonds and released him.
'I understand your reasoning, Gregori, but you are
my friend - I cannot let you face this alone. And after
we leave this place, I shall take you to the nearest daugh-
ter-forest and see what the root-scholars can do about
this Dreamless poison.'
Greg nodded, feeling a stab of emotion at this show
of solidarity and brotherhood. He cleared his throat.
'So how are we going to get out of here?' he said.
While avoiding the sound of Kuros's voice.
'I confess, Gregori, I do not know,' Chel said.
'Maintaining the air-shell concealment requires a great
effort -1 could not keep both of us hidden long enough
to reach the front door, never mind the entrance to the
grounds.'
'Maybe you could go for a hunt around this place
and find some weapons,' Greg said.
'I think I could do that,' said Chel, just as they heard
the distant sound of gunfire coming from the front of
the house. They looked at each other for a moment then
Greg started to get up, but Chel pulled him back.
'Listen!'
The gunfire was louder, or there were more guns
firing. There were also shouts coming from other parts
of the house, orders being given, and the thudding of
boots. And one pair approaching the room. Chel's eyes,
all six, widened as he grasped Greg's shoulder ... and
the air turned to swirling eddies of shimmering opacity
shot through with emerald gleams, a flux of slow cur-
rents with Chel as their hub.
The doors flew open and in strode a Sendrukan
soldier who took one look at the empty chair and
dashed back out, bellowing at the top of his voice. The
glittering curtain faded and Chel said:
'Quickly, over there in the corner . . .'
Greg followed the Uvovo's directions and went to
crouch in the corner with Chel kneeling next to him,
eyes staring with a burning intensity into some facet of
reality that Greg would never know. The air darkened
into languid swirls of glimmering fog a moment before
Kuros hurried into the room, followed by one of his
aides. He went round to the chair, examined the loos-
ened plastic cuffs, then stood and surveyed the room.
'How could the Human have escaped, exalted?' said
the aide.
For a moment, Kuros said nothing as he studied the
room, the walls, the tall, curtained windows, even the
floor.
'The floors in this hovel have a substantial gap
between the boards and ceilings,' he said, crouching
down, the palm of one long-fingered hand resting on the
polished wood. 'There may be an access or a trap-
door ... is that where you are hiding, Doctor Cameron?'
His voice was low and deadly as he then began to
intone the words Greg feared most, that phrase, the
key ... He felt the alteration begin, the shiver of sur-
render in those subservient particles, their collective
eagerness to comply as Kuros continued, 'Are you
here? - show yourself now!'
But something stifled that rush to obey, kept the mus-
cles from engaging, the mouth from speaking. Chel, it
was Chel! - Greg knew it had to be him, somehow alter-
ing the consequences and suppressing the parasitic
particles' automated response. Yet the strain was show-
ing in the Uvovo's face, his strength was ebbing and
soon his intervention would fail. While Kuros stood
there, watching, waiting . . .
And that was when the wall and part of the ceiling
fell on him, a cascade of brickwork, joists and plaster
dust. Greg saw the High Monitor go down and when
the soldier went to his aid a massive metal claw punched
through another part of the wall, showering him with
rubble, knocking him senseless to the ground.
There was a raucous machine roar coming from
beyond the half-demolished wall. Greg realised that he
was in control of himself again while finding that he
was having to support Chel's semi-conscious form as he
got to his feet. Then a face appeared at the hole in the
wall, hazy through the clouds of dust.
'He's here!'
A second face replaced the first - it was Rory.
'Hey there, Mr C - how's it goin'? Just a sec and
we'll have ye outa there!'
A moment later, the mechanical claw swung down
again and gouged part of the wall down to floor level,
raising further pale and billowing clouds. This is it, he
realised - we have to make a break for it now!
Shouts were coming from the hallway outside the
wrecked room as he slung the insensible Chel over his
shoulder and hurried towards the jagged gap in the wall
where Rory and others were waiting, beckoning. As he
clambered over rubble and broken ceiling beams, he
risked a backward glance and saw Sendrukan soldiers
running towards the room entrance, curve-snouted
handweapons coming to bear. And as his gaze swept
back he spotted the dust-caked form of High Monitor
Kuros crawling from beneath the wreckage. Their gazes
met for a split second, and a surge of fear propelled
Greg on through the gaping hole to where eager hands
took Chel from his shoulder.
Gunfire like high-pitched, rasping bursts came from
within and was met with return fire including, he
noticed, a couple of crossbows and handfuls of caltrops.
Greg just had time to register the huge mechanical
digger with its hydraulic arm buried in the side of the
house, and Rory tugging on his arm, urging him
towards the waiting hillcar, before Kuros's voice came to
him, those deadly words carrying over the noise of the
firefight.
The world about him seemed to drain away, leaving
only wavering views of the house, muff
led sounds of
weaponsfire, Rory yelling at him to stop, but he knew
that he had no control, that the nano-particles were only
obeying their master. Then someone grabbed his shoul-
der and pulled him back, but the particles made him
struggle and cry out until something struck his head and
the light and the house and everything crashed down
into darkness.
PART FOUR
47
ROBERT
The shifting ivory glow that illuminated the bottom of
the immense, winding cave barely reached the narrow
ledges and precarious paths which notched the upper
reaches of its sheer walls. As he paused to peer over a
low rampart of mineral deposit as smooth and nacreous
as melted opal, he glimpsed the shadows of large crea-
tures and heard them squawk and whoop to each other
between the grunts and snorts. Which was the most he
had witnessed since arriving here over a day ago, but
then his escorts had kept him from venturing along am
passages leading downward with emphatic warnings of
deadly danger. The temptation to leave them was tem-
pered by his natural caution and amplified by his lack of
company.
'Must keep moving, Human Horst,' said a tinny,
scratchy voice. 'Conveyance 289 awaits us at the Great
Terrace - it will take us to the upgate and thence to the
Construct.'
It was one of his small mechanical escorts, the one he
had come to think of as Tripod-Reski: the others were
Track-Reski and Hover-Reski. They insisted that they
were elements of a single entity, a kind of machine-mind
collective going by the name Reski Emantes. Tripod-
Reski was a foot-tall mech with three jointed legs
supporting an odd glass torso which contained blurred,
many-coloured components that flickered and glowed,
and was wrapped in a black mesh carapace. A squat
ovoid sat on top, encircled by an ocular band.
'And how long will it take to reach this Great
Terrace?' he said.
'Hours rather than days, Human Horst,' said the
tripod. 'If you make no further delay. Delay means we
miss the upgate, and means adversaries gain advantage.'
Robert sighed and moved on. The little mechs spoke
of adversaries but would not say who they were.
Likewise this vast cave, which they referred to as the
Michael Cobley - Humanity's Fire book 1 Page 45