by Gary Gibson
‘The Jager?’ he said by way of explanation. ‘I believe it was infected fairly early on. I saw the bugs swarming across it myself.’
‘Okay.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Okay, if it’s already infected, we might not have so much of a problem. Next question, why doesn’t your friend just get on board one of the regular shuttles and come over here himself?’
‘He’s being held there against his will,’ said Elias. ‘He’s been kept on ice for a number of years, and though he’s unconscious, he’s still a prisoner.’ He saw the disbelief on her face, and held up his hands. ‘It’s a long story – and I mean a really long story.’
‘It’s not the veracity of your story I’m concerned with,’ she said. ‘It’s whether the people who are holding your . . . friend against his will are prepared to let you just take him away. I’m not very keen on finding myself in the middle of a shooting match.’
‘You won’t, I promise. Look, all I really need is transport – transport there, then back again.’
‘Like catching a taxi ride?’ she said.
‘Exactly.’ He nodded.
‘Except a taxi ride where some types we’d rather not meet might just start shooting at us because they don’t want your friend up there to take a taxi ride with you.’
He shrugged. ‘That pretty much sums it up.’
She sighed. ‘Give me a minute.’ She got up, tapping Vincent on the arm, and they walked together across the Hub’s main corridor, to where the bar area resumed on the other side. Most of the tables on that side were empty too. Elias watched and waited.
‘I’m not sure. Is this the kind of thing you get up to these days?’ Vincent asked her, a quizzical look on his face. She was starting to remember how difficult it was to tell when he was being serious or not.
‘No, it’s not, but . . .’ She sighed. ‘I can’t even get to my Goblin right now. I have to pay a fine first, Vincent. Don’t ask me what I did. I just screwed up, all right?’
‘Surely the bureaucrats aren’t going to prevent you from regaining your ship during an emergency like this?’
‘Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ she said bitterly, feeling her cheeks burn with anger. ‘I had gone to see Central Command with just that in mind.’
‘And?’ Vincent realized that must have been the point at which he’d spotted her in the crowd.
‘If they’d only let me have it, I probably wouldn’t still be on the Station right now. You know what they said? They said I’d have to wait until after this emergency before I could get it back. So I said, how the hell am I going to get off the Station, then?’ She raised her hands in frustration, then dropped them to her sides. God bless Bill, she thought, knowing he must have been thinking of her when he sent this man Murray to contact her. He’d known just how badly she needed the money – and he was right.
‘They told you to get in line with all the other refugees on board the military ships?’
She nodded. ‘And leave my ship behind? Not if I can avoid it, Vincent.’ She looked back at where Elias was still sitting. ‘Not at all.’
‘Okay,’ said Vincent. ‘One other thing, though. He mentioned the Jager, and we both know something happened to it a couple of days ago. Some kind of accident was reported.’
‘Yeah, so?’
‘So maybe he had something to do with that?’ suggested Vincent, also glancing over at Elias. ‘And if he did, are you so sure you really want his money?’
As Elias watched them come back over, he could already tell the woman was willing, but that didn’t make it a done deal. Her partner certainly didn’t look so happy. They both sat down opposite him.
‘I want certain things understood,’ began Kim. ‘If we go out there with you – if we go – we don’t know anything about what you’re up to, not officially at any rate.’ Elias nodded to that. ‘We take you up there, but we’re not coming on board with you. Is that clear?’ Elias nodded again. ‘We take you out there, we bring you back, and if we even begin to think people are likely to shoot at us, we’re not prepared to endanger ourselves, and we still know nothing about what you were up to. I need you to agree with that, otherwise you can keep your money.’
Elias pondered for a few seconds, but he really didn’t have much choice. In fact, if this woman had any idea how much of a last resort this really was for him, she might think about asking for more payment. On the other hand, the fact she seemed happy to take whatever he offered her suggested that maybe she wasn’t in the best financial circumstances herself.
‘All right, then,’ he said slowly. ‘Does your friend want to add his ID as a witness, and I can transfer half of the money now?’
‘And the other half after the job is done?’
He nodded. Kim tried not to show her exultation. She had just got her Goblin back.
Twelve
Ursu
After some hours, Ursu realized he was totally lost.
The woodland seemed to go on for ever, and he had encountered more ruins, stumbling into them rather than locating them. The foliage was so dense that the only daylight fell directly from above.
It had been close. After he had carried the god into the woods, he had lain hidden in one spot for the next few hours, trembling with cold and fright. That had been uncomfortable enough, but a curious realization had come to him, that he had not felt nearly as scared as he had just before Nubala fell to the invaders. It was as if his ability to become frightened had been diminished by a process of either constantly evading capture or effecting escape once captured. Now he felt his senses numbed to the world around him. Now, he merely survived, whatever that might take.
After an hour or so of hiding, he had heard the sound of others thrashing about the dense woodland all around him, and had struggled on through the undergrowth, finding a deep, dark nook in the hollow left by a fallen tree. Soon after, a freezing rain had begun to fall, and as he sought shelter beneath the tree’s mighty roots, he had heard voices calling to each other, some nearer, some farther, until finally they had faded away. Eventually he had pulled himself up, and forced himself to move further into the woods.
While stumbling through the forest, alone and afraid, he had felt the presence of Shecumpeh by him. Ursu looked up and, amid the harsh winds whistling through the foliage, heard words being spoken to him which were like the rustling of a breeze.
Look to that star, the voice seemed to say, but as Ursu peered up through the branches, he could see very little at all. He then looked around and saw a great rock rising in the distance, whose upper surface rose almost as high as the trees around it. He hiked his way towards it, through the undergrowth, then pulled himself up a steep natural ramp of earth that had accumulated behind it until he was standing beneath the wide, uncluttered expanse of the night sky, the forest now spread out beneath him.
Look to that star, the voice repeated. Ursu looked this way and that and spotted it. It lay far to the south, far from Hesper’s Crown, and back in the direction he had come from.
Ursu looked around further and, though it was deep into the night, he thought he could detect glints of light some considerable distance off.
Keep the star to your back, the voice seemed to urge him. That way he would be always travelling in the right direction. Go to the water.
What water, Ursu wondered. When he looked again, he realized that the glinting light he had noticed was actually starlight reflecting off water. A river must cut its path through the forest.
Ursu knelt down beside the effigy and tilted it over to one side so that he could again see the faintest blue glow emanating from the crack in its side. There was definitely something inside it. What would happen if he dropped the god, and it shattered? Could that destroy Shecumpeh? The more he considered it, it hardly seemed possible that a deity so powerful would entrust its spirit to a lump of dried clay. There must be something else to it.
He listened again to the gentle hiss of the wind, expecting a voice to rise up and warn him against
what he was contemplating. But the sound of the wind remained only the wind.
Ursu slid a fingernail into the crack and tugged at it until a chunk of the clay fell away. Suddenly Ursu felt a cold sweat slicking the fur under his robes. Inside the effigy was some kind of metal which was smooth to the touch. In a surge of apprehension, he broke away the rest of the god’s clay covering until he could see what lay underneath.
The revealed artefact had a wide, square base, out of which rose a short column, also square, but twisted slightly. It narrowed slightly at the top. A made device? Ursu’s fear began to give way to anger. This, he thought, was no living thing.
‘This is no true god,’ said Ursu, and it was as if a lifelong spell had been broken.
But someone – or something – had spoken to him.
– I spoke to you, said the voice of Shecumpeh.
Ursu looked around, but failed to notice the hunched shadow that watched him from the shadows below the rock.
‘Show yourself,’ said Ursu, trembling. ‘Show me who you really are.’
– Everything Shecumpeh has told you is true. But I am not Shecumpeh.
‘Then who are you? Tell me the truth! Is Shecumpeh a god?’
– No. Shecumpeh is no god.
It was too much for Ursu. He fell onto all fours, and howled to the stars like a beast – or a canthre.
After a while, sensing that the mysterious presence had gone, Ursu lay down by the god of his people and studied its new contours, tracing a fingertip along its smooth metal surface. It seemed impossible, somehow, to connect that overwhelming sense of presence with this object.
He pulled himself upright, found his way down from the rock, and wandered amongst the roots and trunks until he could again see the star far above him. Then he turned his back on it and started walking.
A few hours later, he came upon an abandoned camp with the river just beyond it, probably one of the many tributaries of the Teive that flowed south to the Great Northern Sea. The land had become rockier and hillier as Ursu had progressed, and occasionally he thought he could discern great, dark shapes on the horizon. The Southern Teive Mountains, perhaps? If that was the case, at least he was moving away from Nubala and Xan’s army.
The camp itself looked as if it had been hurriedly abandoned a long time ago. There were only a few tents left, almost all appearing to have been trampled by some manner of wild beast. A rusted sword lay by the ashes of a long-burnt-out fire. When Ursu investigated one of the collapsed tents, he found several leather sacks secured with straps. When he opened one to find boots and clothes, his heart rejoiced.
He looked at the dead fireplace, then went and gathered some dry wood. Next he searched for a flint, and discovered a couple marked with the sigil of Hesper, the neighbouring city to his native Nubala.
After several abortive attempts at raising sparks, Ursu finally managed to get a fire going. He inspected the satchel and found the god fitted neatly into it. After adjusting the straps, it sat comfortably enough on his back. Meanwhile he relished the warmth rising from the flickering flames.
Then a thought occurred to him and he reopened the satchel. Taking the god back out, he set it in his lap and studied it. Not a god, he realized, just a carefully shaped lump of metal. But at the same time, surely something more than that.
But his thoughts still roamed, even as his belly ached from hunger. Then another idea popped into his head. He knew now how to find some food.
Having found a suitable stick to sharpen, he headed towards the river just as the sun rose over the treetops. He felt Shecumpeh guiding him farther and farther along the river’s edge.
He was about to turn back when a sudden urgency surged within him, even though all he could see around him was mud and water and steep, slippery embankments. Then he almost fell over a wooden boat pulled halfway up onto the dry soil and concealed with bracken. Again his heart leapt, for a boat meant travel. It could carry him down this tributary and into the great river flowing south.
He stared uncertainly at the surging water, then determinedly began pushing at the sides of the boat, rocking it from side to side until it came loose from the confining undergrowth.
It was only then that he noticed the corpse, with a wound in its side.
Whoever he had been, he had belonged to Xan’s army. His clothes were of the superior quality worn by mercenaries and soldiers. Clearly, he must have travelled downriver before stopping off here. Perhaps he had got badly injured further upriver – near Nubala?
I must do an Embedding, thought Ursu. He fetched a sharp knife back from the camp. This is a holy thing I do, thought Ursu, and he began reciting the litany of Embedding as he cut into the dead soldier’s flesh.
This is how we begin, thought Ursu. You had to eat the flesh of the dead before you could become a sentient person. Only then did you acquire the skill of walking upright, and of communicating with speech. To eat the flesh of the dead, after all, was to honour them, and most especially to preserve their memories and their strength.
Fatigue was starting to overcome him, and he realized he had to get some sleep before he next moved on. The correct rituals had to be performed, however. The dead had to be appropriately honoured before they could be remembered.
He spoke the incantation, then slid the sharp point of the knife into the rear of the skull. This proved difficult, so in the end he fetched a rock from the riverside and used it to break the skullbone as he had seen a Master once do. Then he was able to cut away the parts tradition said contained the last thoughts and memories of the dead, and proceeded to chew them raw.
Finally he lay back and closed his eyes. As sleep came to him, so did a dead man’s memories. He remembered the sequence of death first, the sword that struck into his side as he entered the city of Nubala with his comrades, then being carried off and abandoned somewhere to die. He could remember crawling away, finding his way down to the river, where they had been building boats to ferry supplies to support the siege.
He remembered back further, fleeting images of the court of Xan. For the first time now, Ursu knew what the Emperor looked like. The visions continued in fits and starts, and with them came knowledge: a deep foreboding as he came to realize that the Emperor consorted with demons, with Shai, glowing, hairless figures. They reminded him at once of that crouching figure he had glimpsed, indeed something out of a nightmare.
The dead soldier had clearly been someone important, a commander-in-arms of the armies besieging Nubala. As knowledge filled Ursu’s mind, there came with it horror.
Elias
‘Cramped, but it’s home,’ said Kim, ducking through a tiny airlock.
Elias pursed his lips. This might be better with just the two of them, he thought, glancing briefly at Vincent. He could see, even from the outside, that the Goblin was going to be a squeeze for all three of them, plus Trencher.
He glanced around the docking bay, where identical heavy airlock doors carried signs indicating if there were any craft on the other side of them. He then watched Kim’s small, tight butt wriggle through the connecting tube between the Station and the Goblin itself. He looked again at Vincent, who just shrugged.
Kim turned and gestured from the far end of the access tube. ‘Come on through,’ she said. Elias climbed in and crawled along on his hands and knees. Once inside the Goblin, he could barely stand up straight.
‘These things always look bigger from the outside,’ he said.
Kim looked surprised. ‘You’ve been in one before? I thought you said you’d come straight from Earth.’
‘I did military service, had to learn a lot of things fast – usually by compression learning’ – he tapped the side of his head – ‘where they cram it in.’
‘Oh, right.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, most of it’s taken up with engine, but I guess maybe you already know that. Plus the life support, of course.’
Elias glanced around the tiny cockpit, seeing where a narrow crawlspace led through further, probably
accessing just enough space for a single bunk and some storage. He’d already noticed a cargo pod attached to the rear of the ship, connected to the Goblin itself by a pressurized tube. ‘I thought these newer types dredged oxygen and nitrogen out of the vacuum.’
‘Sure, ramscoop – plus an Angel drive for hard acceleration. But that means having shielding for the electronics on board, and it takes up most of the rest of the space. Plus emergency backups, in case those don’t work, and a body tank in case those don’t work either.’
‘Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but why do you need him along?’ asked Elias, jerking his thumb at the airlock tube and, by implication, Vincent. ‘You’re the pilot, surely. Or is he your co-pilot?’
‘No, he’s not my co-pilot, he’s a friend. I’d just like to have him along for the company,’ she replied coolly.
Elias nodded. She obviously wasn’t completely sure about him, or simply didn’t trust him. It would only be for a little while anyway, he reminded himself.
He heard scrabbling through the tube and turned to see Vincent emerge. It was definitely getting crowded here. Elias was not prone to claustrophobia but, even so, his throat tightened involuntarily. Fortunately, one-man craft or not, the Goblin was equipped with a co-pilot’s seat. He sat down in it quickly while Vincent gazed around, carefully not looking at Elias. Well, trust and friendship all round, thought Elias. It would be good to get this trip over and done with.
Kim looked flustered. She was not used to having anyone else in here, he thought. It couldn’t be easy for her. Elias slid around in the seat until he felt comfortable, then locked the web restraints over his chest. He watched the woman slide into the pilot’s seat beside him, and took a sideways glance at Vincent.