by Eric Brown
Vaughan took a seat beside the pod. He reached out and touched the old man’s arm and said in a surprisingly soft and reassuring voice, “We’re friends, Mr. Essex. We’re police, from Earth.”
Essex’s nervous glance shuttled between Vaughan and Chandra, disbelief evident in his eyes. “You’re not going to kill me?”
“We’re on your side. We’re from Earth, here to investigate what’s been going on. We mean you no harm.”
Hengst whispered, “I’ll be outside if you need me.” He slipped from the room.
Chandra drew up a chair and sat beside Vaughan.
The telepath took a small case from his jacket pocket, withdrew a pin and inserted it into the back of his head. Chandra watched the process with fascination, relieved that he was shielded.
Essex stared at them “I... I’ve been expecting them at any time. That was the most frightening thing, you see. Not knowing when—when they’d turn up and kill me.”
“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” Chandra reached out, took the old man’s hand. “Why are they trying to kill you?” he asked.
Essex licked his trembling lips. “It’s because of what I found out about them, you see. They don’t want it getting out.”
Chandra looked at Vaughan, then asked Essex, “What did you find out?”
Essex nodded, his glance darting between the two men, still distrustful and unable to believe in the luck of his reprieve. “It’s... it’s all so vague...”
“Easy,” Chandra said. “Take it easy and tell us in your own time.”
Essex licked his lips. “I was a well-respected naturalist when I was younger. Specialised in the study of migration patterns of species on newly colonised planets. I worked for some of the biggest space agencies. They didn’t want colonists wreaking havoc on the migration patterns of the native fauna. I charted major routes, so the colonists could avoid the animals.” He trailed off, shaking his head in confusion.
“You and your team explored Verkerk’s World,” Chandra reminded him.
“Verkerk’s World...” Essex repeated the name as if speaking it for the very first time. “Nearly fifty years ago now. New world, you see, new and interesting wildlife. I returned from time to time after the place was colonised, made studies in the northern continent.” He shook his head. “Strange thing. Periodic drop in localised indigenous population of certain species in the northern ranges. Couldn’t explain it. Larger animals, high in the food chain, animals with no natural predators... almost wiped out periodically. It baffled me. I wrote up a paper, published it on Earth, forgot about the whole thing. Lots of work to do out in the Expansion. I didn’t come back to Verkerk’s for years and years.” Again his vision lost focus. He seemed confused as to where he was and why he was speaking of the past. “I was on Earth a few months ago. I looked up Marquez and Bhindra, my exploration colleagues, and we got talking about Verkerk’s and what we found there. That got me thinking. I decided to come back, try to work out what was happening.”
“What did you find?” Chandra prompted. He glanced at Vaughan, who slumped in his seat, eyes closed, his face expressionless as he scanned the old man.
Essex shook his head. “It was a year after the last periodic two-year ‘cull’. Whatever had occurred, I’d missed it. I talked to a few locals, but they were unwilling to tell me anything. I ran tests on the water from the mountains, discovered minute traces of the drug known today as rhapsody. I found it gained in potency every two years. It flows from the north, through the floodplain of Sapphire Falls. Its molecules bind themselves to the cells of certain plants. These plants are harvested by locals—it’s what forms the basis of the cult they have here, the Church of the Adoration. Anyway, that’s by the by. It has no real effect down here, we’re too far away—it’s up there, up in the mountains, where it has its desired effect.”
Chandra reached out and touched the old man’s hand. “What effect, Essex?”
He screwed his eyes tight shut, opened them, and stared at a point between the two men. He began shaking his head in a slow, side-to-side motion that Chandra thought might never end. “I’d been visiting the remote mountain communities in the north. It was there I met a sociologist from Vanderlaan, man by the name of Kuivert. He told me he was doing some work on population figures. From time to time we’d meet, go through our findings. One day, he showed up here. He was agitated—no, more like petrified. Had every right to be. He’d been doing some poking around in the mountain communities in the north, checking claims that citizens had moved south. You see, there’s no census here on Verkerk’s. Massive planet. Relatively few settlers, thousands of self-sufficient communes—how many, nobody really knows. So it’s not easy to keep a record of all the comings and goings. But my friend, he produced these figures and claimed that citizens of the northern mountains have been disappearing with the same frequency as the animals up there.”
With shaking fingers he prodded tears from his eyes, took a breath, and continued. “So, six weeks ago, when the periodic disappearances were due to begin, we obtained a sample of some rhapsody and set off up north. You see, there had to be two of us, one to take the stuff, the other to stop him from following the call.”
He fell silent again. His eyes were wide, his lips trembling.
The call...
Vaughan had opened his eyes and was staring, clearly alarmed by something in the old man’s mind.
“What happened?” Chandra asked gently.
Essex swallowed, nodded as if to acknowledge that he was strong enough to continue his account. “We drove north as far as we could, then left the car and trekked into the mountains. We were heading for the centre of the disappearance phenomenon, place above the Geiger Caves.” He scrabbled around on the table beside the pod, found a map, and pulled it towards him. He stabbed a long-nailed forefinger in the approximate area of the northern range. “We took along insulated tents and spent the night in the mountains. In the morning we prepared ourselves.
“We drove a stake into the ground, deep so it couldn’t be pulled out. Kuivert handcuffed me to it. There was no way I could move, get away. Then I took the rhapsody.” His eyes misted over, and a slight smile played around his mouth. “First, I felt dizzy, nauseous. I had to lie down. Then I felt... euphoric. I was united with... I can only call it God. I was part of a wholeness, united with all that ever was and will be...”
Beside the pod, Vaughan smiled.
After a long pause, Essex went on, “The trance lasted about thirty minutes. Then, suddenly, I had to move. I had to join the source of that euphoria. I could feel something calling to me, telling me that if I joined it then I’d be granted unity with the oneness. All I can recall is trying to get free, and failing, and feeling that I would have given anything to be follow the call. According to Kuivert, I begged him to let me go, threatened that if he didn’t release me I’d kill him. He didn’t give in, thank God.
“After an hour or two, the feeling diminished. I slept. When I came to my senses, I recounted the experience to Kuivert. We decided to trek further into the mountains, see if we could locate the source of the calling. I had a notion, a memory from the trance, of where it came from—the Geiger Caves.
“It was almost sunset by the time we got there.” Essex closed his eyes and wept. Chandra laid an ineffectual hand on the old man’s shoulder.
“Take your time,” he said. “There’s no hurry.”
Essex sat up with difficulty. He gestured to a jug of water beside the pod and Vaughan poured him a glass. Essex drank quickly. “You see, what was so terrible... We thought—all along we thought that it was a natural phenomenon. We thought that the locals were drinking the water and submitting to the call. But... we reached the entrance to the Geiger Caves, concealed ourselves behind boulders. And down there, in the mouth of the cave, down there was a service, a religious service of some kind. People stepped up from the congregation and approached some priest in robes at the head of the gathering, and the priest would offer a chalice, a
nd the people would drink, and then pass into the cave. Even then we didn’t understand what was happening.
“When everyone had passed into the cave, Kuivert said that he was going to follow them. I tried to stop him, tried to argue him out of it. But he was having none of it—he wanted to find out what was happening in there. There was nothing for it—I had to go with him. I couldn’t let him go alone. So we crept into the cave. We had flashlights, in case we were caught out on the mountainside in the darkness. We followed a worn path deep into the mountains.
“We... we followed the sound of the congregation as they descended. We were careful, very, very careful. I think we both knew that if we were caught...”
Essex paused there, shook his head. “We came to a gallery overlooking a massive chamber. It was dimly lit, but even so we could make out...”
He stopped, his eyes staring straight ahead at whatever he had seen in that subterranean chamber.
Chandra exchanged a glance with Vaughan. He felt sweat trickle down his chest, over his belly. Vaughan was staring at Essex, his bloodshot eyes wide.
The naturalist went on, “I saw a line of people, men and women and even children. They walked towards it and... and they were absorbed. There are no words to describe what happened to them. They were just... absorbed.”
Chandra cleared his throat, spoke gently, “Absorbed by what, Essex? What was it?”
Essex was shaking his head. “I know what I saw... but Kuivert disagreed. I saw a... a silver thing—a creature resembling a Palaeozoic orthoceras, a kind of giant squid. They just walked up to it and were absorbed. But Kuivert saw something different— some kind of huge amorphous quadruped like a pachyderm. What we both agreed on was that it was taking those people. Later, we decided that the creature appeared, in some way, different to every observer. As I was specialising in crustacea at the time, it appeared as a prehistoric squid. To Kuivert, who’d worked with elephant-analogues on Addenbrooke in his youth, it appeared as some kind of mammoth. Don’t ask me how it did it.
“We made our way from the cave. We didn’t stop until we got back to our campsite, then packed up and returned to the car and drove back to Vanderlaan.”
Essex smiled bleakly at Chandra. “I can’t begin to make you understand the horror we experienced that day.”
“What did you do?” Chandra asked. “What then?”
“Kuivert returned to the Geiger Caves, filmed the proceedings. He wouldn’t let me see the film, and he wouldn’t tell me whether he’d identified the culprits. He said that the less I knew, the safer I was. And, like the coward I was, I didn’t argue. He did tell me, though, that he’d discovered about half a dozen sites where the ritual was enacted—he guessed that there were that many... beings dwelling in the mountain. He suspected that the priests of the sect were controlled by the creatures—or rather motivated, and rewarded with the euphoria of oneness for their actions.
“He discovered that the drug, the rhapsody, was only really effective—only provided the illusion of the union—within a twenty-kilometre radius of the lair of the creatures, which was why the drug had little effect down here. He suspected that the beasts excreted the drug into the water-table, and from there it found its way into the streams that ran from the mountains.”
Essex paused. “I thought Kuivert would turn the evidence over to the police, the government—” He shook his head. “But he wouldn’t. He suspected that people high up in the police or the government were part of the sect.”
Essex fell silent, staring into space.
Chandra said, “We need to talk to Kuivert. Do you have his address?”
Essex shook his head. In a small, frail voice he said, “Last week he packed up and drove into the northern ranges. I begged him not to, I pleaded with him to stay here, but he said he wanted more evidence.” Essex shook his head and wept. “Please believe me, I begged him to stay here, I pleaded with him.” Essex stared at Chandra, his eyes wide. “It was no good. I heard from him just one last time.”
“He contacted you?”
Essex nodded, gathered himself. “It was late at night. Kuivert called me from high in the mountains. He said that he’d seen people lead the beasts from the caves, load them into containers, and ferry them away aboard cargo-fliers. They were taking them somewhere. He sounded... my God he sounded terrified.” He finished in a whisper, “He never came back. They must have found him and, and...”
Chandra stood and walked to the window and stared out at the lawned garden.
Essex said, “I fell to wondering where they might be taking these... these monsters. I thought they might be transporting them to Earth, to widen the net of the calling, to spread the word. So I contacted Bhindra and Marquez, told them what I suspected, and asked for their help. I haven’t heard from them since.”
Chandra looked at Vaughan and shook his head. It would serve no purpose to tell Essex what, thanks to him, had happened to his ex-colleagues.
He returned to the old man in the pod. “Do you know what became of the tapes Kuivert made, the records he kept?”
Essex gestured. “When he didn’t return after two days, I went across to the apartment he was renting. I had a spare key, so I let myself in. There was nothing... either he took everything with him, or someone had got there before me and destroyed the evidence. I left my flat, moved to a hotel in town. I was planning to leave Verkerk’s for good when they found me.”
Chandra asked, “You said that these... these ‘culls’ are periodic, every two years or so. But do you know how long they last?”
“Kuivert estimated that they went on for about two months—long enough to allow the monsters to have their fill.”
Chandra nodded, then said, “And how long has the calling been going on this time?”
Essex calculated. “I’d say about seven weeks.”
Vaughan stood and drew Chandra to one side. “The sooner we can stop the Church of the Adoration, the more innocent lives we can save.”
Chandra felt a cold weight settle in his gut. “But how do we stop them?”
Vaughan hesitated, then said, “We should go into the mountains, Jimmy.” He reached up and quickly withdrew his augmentation-pin.
Chandra said, “Do you really think we ought to?”
“We need a recorder, tapes. Once we have evidence, then we can get back to the authorities on Earth. That’s the only way to eradicate the Church.”
Chandra nodded. “Of course, you’re right. It’s just that...”
“Frightened, Jimmy?”
Chandra smiled. “To death,” he admitted.
* * * *
EIGHTEEN
FAREWELL BANGKOK
Sukara was late for her shift at the Siren Bar.
Fat Cheng sat at the bar, a bottle of beer in his huge fist. He was wearing his multi-coloured Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts tonight. Spilling out of his seat, he looked like a Sumo wrestler on vacation.
“Little Monkey, there you are. What happens? You late!”
Sukara glared at him. “So what, Fat Cheng! No more customers. You get rid of me—why I should bother?”
Fat Cheng waved this away. “Strange thing. I get call. Customer, he want see you tonight. Eleven o’clock.”
“Which customer? Ee-tee?”
“Maybe Ee-tee. You go to Astoria hotel, Silom Road.”
“Astoria hotel?” She whistled. “Rich place, Fat Cheng. Eleven o’clock?” She looked at the clock behind the bar. “After ten now. Silom Road long way. Won’t make it.”
“You will. Customer say you take flier. He pay.”
Sukara stared. “Flier?”
“Go now. Hurry.”
Sukara put her hands on her hips, defiant. “So, little Monkey working again. I stay here, work at Siren bar?”
His fat lips curled downwards, reminding Sukara of the turd she had once found in her bed. “This is a one off, Monkey,” he said. “How many times in past this happen? Next week, you go Paradise Bar, as arranged. Now hurry!”
She ran from the bar, feeling a sudden flutter of excitement in her belly—and at the same time apprehension. She tried to push from her mind what Fat Cheng had said about the Paradise Bar and concentrate on this job. Never before had she gone out to a smart hotel to see a customer—that privilege was left to the beautiful girls, who were always going out to expensive hotels and clubs, balls and parties. Now, she was going to see a rich customer in the Astoria.
She arrived at the taxi rank. A dozen sleek, jet-black fliers waited on the ramp like hungry, carnivorous fish. She climbed the steps, feeling as if she were trespassing, that at any second a cop would grab her by her T-shirt and haul her away. She leaned in through the open window of the first flier. “Astoria hotel, Silom Road.”