Seeds of Earth

  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.