The Night's Dawn Trilogy

by Peter F. Hamilton

“I don’t want it like this. Turn me over. Please, it’ll make it easier for you. This hurts.”

  There was a moment’s silence. “You won’t struggle?” He sounded uncertain.

  “I won’t. I promise. Just not like this.”

  “I do like you, Louise. Really.”

  “I know.”

  The weight against the small of her back lifted. Louise tensed, gathering every ounce of strength. She pulled the shotgun clear from under the bed and twisted around, swinging it in a wide arc, trying to predict where his head would be.

  Roberto saw it coming. He managed to bring his arms up in an attempt to ward off the blow, ducking to one side—

  The shotgun barrel caught him a glancing blow above his left ear, the end of the pump mechanism thumping his guarding hand. Nothing like as devastating as Louise wanted it. But he cried out in pain and shock, clamping his hands over the side of his head. He started to keel over.

  Louise tugged her legs out from under him and tumbled off the bed, almost losing hold of the shotgun. She could hear Roberto sob behind her. It was a sound which sent a frightening burst of glee into her head. It freed her from all that genteel refinement which Norfolk had instilled, put civilization aside.

  She climbed to her feet, got a better grip on the shotgun, and brought it crashing down on the top of Roberto’s skull.

  * * *

  The anxious knocking on the door was the next thing Louise was conscious of. For some inexplicable reason she’d sunk down onto the floor and started to weep. Her whole body was cold and trembling, yet her skin was prickled with perspiration.

  The knock came again, more urgent this time. “Lady Louise?”

  “Fletcher?” she gasped. Her voice was so weak.

  “Yes, my lady. Are you all right?”

  “I . . .” A giggle became choked in her throat. “One minute, Fletcher.” She looked around, and gagged. Roberto was sprawled over the bed. Blood from his head wound had produced a huge stain over the sheet.

  Dear Jesus, I’ve killed him. They’ll hang me.

  She stared at the body for a long, quiet moment, then got up and wrapped a towel around her nakedness.

  “Is anyone with you?” she asked Fletcher.

  “No, my lady. I am alone.”

  Louise opened the door, and he slipped inside. For some reason the sight of the corpse didn’t seem to shake him.

  “My lady.” The voice was so soft with sympathy and concern. He opened his arms, and she pressed against him, trying not to cry again.

  “I had to,” she blurted. “He was going to . . .”

  Fletcher’s hand stroked her wild hair, smoothing and combing it with every stroke. Within a minute it was a dry, shiny cloak again. And somehow the pain inside was lessened.

  “How did you know?” she murmured.

  “I could sense your anguish. A mighty silent shout, it was.”

  “Oh.” Now there was a strange notion, that the possessed could listen to your thoughts. There’s so much badness inside my head.

  Fletcher met her troubled gaze. “Did that animal violate you, my lady?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “He is lucky. Had he done so, I would have dispatched him to the beyond myself. Nor would such a passage be pleasant for him.”

  “But, Fletcher, he is dead. I did it.”

  “No, lady, he lives.”

  “The blood . . .”

  “A cut to the head always looks far worse than it is. Come now, I will have you shed no more tears for this beast.”

  “Oh, Lord, what a dreadful mess we’re in. Fletcher, he suspects something about you. I can’t just go to the police and file a rape charge. He’d tell them about you. Besides”—she drew an annoyed breath—“I’m not quite sure which of us Aunt Celina would believe.”

  “Very well. We shall have to leave now.”

  “But—”

  “Can you think of another course to follow?”

  “No,” she said sadly.

  “Then you must prepare; pack what you need. I shall go and tell the little one, also.”

  “What about him?” She indicated Roberto’s unconscious form.

  “Dress yourself, my lady. I will deal with him.”

  Louise picked through the boxes and went into the en suite bathroom. Fletcher was already leaning over Roberto.

  She put on a pair of long dark blue trousers and a white T-shirt. Black sneakers completed the outfit: a combination unlike anything she’d ever worn before—unlike anything Mother had ever allowed her to wear. But practical, she decided. Just wearing such garments made her feel different. The rest of the things she needed went into one of the suitcases she’d bought. She was halfway through packing when she heard Roberto’s frightened shout from the bedroom. It trailed off into a whimper. Her initial impulse was to rush in and find out what was happening. Instead, she took a deep breath, then looked in the mirror and finished tying back her hair.

  When she did finally emerge back into the bedroom, Roberto had been trussed up with strips of blanket. He stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. The gag in his mouth muffled his desperate shouts.

  She walked over to the bed and looked down at him. Roberto stopped trying to speak.

  “I’m going to return to this house one day,” she said. “When I do, I’ll have my father and my husband with me. If you’re smart, you won’t be here when we arrive.”

  * * *

  Duchess was already rising by the time they arrived at Bennett Field. Every aircraft on Norfolk had been pressed into military service (including the aeroambulance from Bytham), ready to fly the newly formed army out to the rebel-held islands. Over a third of them were parked in long ranks over the aerodrome’s close-mown grass. There were a lot of khaki-uniformed troops milling around outside the hangars.

  Three guards stood beside the entrance to the administration block, a sergeant and two privates. There hadn’t been any at lunchtime when Louise had met Furay.

  Genevieve climbed down out of the cab and gave them a sullen look. The young girl was becoming very short-tempered.

  “Sorry, miss,” the sergeant said. “No civilians permitted in here. The aerodrome is under army control now.”

  “We’re not civilians, we’re passengers,” Genevieve said indignantly. She glared up at the big man, who couldn’t help a grin.

  “Sorry, love, but you still can’t come in.”

  “She’s telling the truth,” Louise said. She fished a copy of their transport contract with the Far Realm out of her bag and proffered it to the sergeant.

  He shrugged and flicked through the pages, not really reading it.

  “The Far Realm is a military ship,” Louise said hopefully.

  “I’m not sure . . .”

  “These two young ladies are the nieces of the Earl of Luffenham,” Fletcher said. “Now surely your superior officer should be made aware of their travel documentation? I’m sure nobody would want the Earl to have to call the general commanding this base.”

  The sergeant nodded gruffly. “Of course. If you’d like to wait inside while I get this sorted out. My lieutenant is in the mess at the moment. It might take a while.”

  “You’re very kind,” Louise said.

  The sergeant managed a flustered smile.

  They were shown into a small ground-floor office overlooking the field. The privates brought their bags in for them, both smiling generously at Louise.

  “Have they gone?” she asked after the door was closed.

  “No, my lady. The sergeant is most discomforted by our presence. One of the privates has been left a few yards down the corridor.”

  “Damnation!” She went over to the single window. From her position she could see nearly a third of the field. If anything the planes seemed to be packed even tighter than this morning; there were hundreds of them. Squads of militia were marching along the grass roadways, shouted at by sergeant majors. A great many people were involved with loading big cargo planes.
Flat-topped trucks trundled past the squads, delivering more matériel.

  “I think the campaign must be starting,” Louise said. Dear Jesus, they look so young. Just boys, my age. “They’re going to lose, aren’t they? They’re all going to be possessed.”

  “I expect so, my lady, yes.”

  “I should have done something.” She wasn’t sure if she was speaking out loud or not. “Should have left Uncle Jules a letter. Warned them. I could have given them that much of my time, enough to write a few simple lines.”

  “There is no defence, dear lady.”

  “Joshua will protect us. He’ll believe me.”

  “I liked Joshua,” Genevieve said.

  Louise smiled, and ruffed her sister’s hair.

  “If you had warned your family and the Prince’s court, and they believed you, I fear you would not have been able to buy your passage on the Far Realm, lady.”

  “Not that it’s done us much good, so far,” she said in exasperation. “We should have gone up to the Far Realm as soon as Furay finalized the contract.”

  Genevieve gave her an anxious look. “We’ll get up there, Louise. You’ll see.”

  “Not very easily. I can’t see the lieutenant allowing us on to the field on the strength of that contract, not when all the troops are taking off. At the very least he’ll call Uncle Jules first. Then we’ll really be in trouble.”

  “Why?” Genevieve asked.

  Louise squeezed her sister’s hand. “I had a bit of a quarrel with Roberto.”

  “Yuck! Mr Fatso. I didn’t like him.”

  “Me neither.” She glanced out of the window again. “Fletcher, can you tell if Furay is out there?”

  “I will try, Lady Louise.” He came over to stand beside her, putting both hands flat on the windowsill and bowing his head. He shut his eyes.

  Louise and Genevieve swapped a glance. “If we can’t get away into orbit, we’ll have to go out onto the moors and camp there,” Louise said. “Find somewhere isolated, like Carmitha did.”

  Genevieve put her arms around her big sister’s waist and hugged. “You’ll get us away, Louise. I know you will. You’re so clever.”

  “Not really.” She hugged the girl back. “But at least I got us into some decent clothes.”

  “Yes!” Genevieve smiled down approvingly at her jeans and sweatshirt, even though there was a horrid cartoon rabbit printed on the chest.

  Fletcher’s eyes flicked open. “He’s here, Lady Louise. Over yonder.” He pointed out of the window in the direction of the central control tower.

  Louise was fascinated by the wet palmprints he’d left on the sill. “Excellent. That’s a start. Now all we have to do is work out how to get to the spaceplane.” Her hand tightened on the new Jovian Bank credit disk in her trouser pocket. “I’m sure Mr Furay can be persuaded to take us up straightaway.”

  “There are also several possessed within the aerodrome perimeter.” Fletcher gave a confused frown. “One of them is wrong.”

  “Wrong?”

  “Odd.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not quite sure, only that he is odd.”

  Louise glanced down at Genevieve, whose face had paled at the mention of the possessed. “They won’t catch us, Gen. Promise.”

  “As do I, little one.”

  Genevieve nodded uncertainly, wanting to believe.

  Louise looked from the girl to the soldiers marching about outside, and came to a decision. “Fletcher, can you fake one of the army uniforms?” she asked. “An officer, not too high-ranking. A lieutenant or captain, perhaps?”

  He smiled. “A prudent notion, my lady.” His grey suit shimmered, darkening to khaki, its surface roughening.

  “The buttons are wrong,” Genevieve declared. “They should be bigger.”

  “If you say so, little one.”

  “That’ll do,” Louise said after a minute, anxious that the sergeant would return before they were done. “Half of these boys have never seen uniforms before. They don’t know if it’s right or not. We’re wasting time.”

  Genevieve and Fletcher pulled a face together at the reprimand. The girl giggled.

  Louise opened the window and peered out. There was no one in the immediate vicinity. “Push the cases through first,” she said.

  They walked over to the nearest hangar as quickly as they could; Louise immediately regretted bringing their bags and cases. She and Fletcher were carrying two apiece, and they were heavy; even Genevieve had a big shoulder bag which she was wilting under. Any attempt to be inconspicuous was doomed from the start.

  It was about two hundred yards to the hangar. When they got there, the central control tower didn’t look any nearer. And Fletcher just said that Furay was “near there.” The pilot could be well on the other side for all she knew.

  The hangar was being used as a store depot by the army; long rows of wooden crates were lined up along the sides, arranged so that narrow alleyways branched off at right angles leading right back to the walls. Five forklift trucks were parked at the far end. There were no soldiers in sight. The doors at both ends were wide open, creating a gentle breeze along the main aisle.

  “See if there’s a farm ranger or something like it parked here,” Louise said. “If not, we’re going to have to dump the cases.”

  “Why?” Genevieve asked.

  “They’re too heavy, Gen, and we’re in a hurry. I’ll buy you some more, don’t worry.”

  “Can you use such a contraption, my lady?” Fletcher asked.

  “I’ve driven one before.” Up and down Cricklade’s drive. Once. With Daddy shouting instructions in my ear.

  Louise let the bags fall to the floor and told Genevieve to wait by them.

  “I will search around outside,” Fletcher said. “My appearance will cause little concern. May I suggest you stay in here.”

  “Right. I’ll check down there.” She started walking towards the other end of the hangar. The ancient corrugated iron roof panels were creaking softly as they shed the heat of Duke-day.

  She was about thirty yards from the open sliding doors when she heard Fletcher calling out behind her. He was running down the wide aisle formed by the crates, waving his arms urgently. Genevieve was chasing after him.

  A jeep drove into the hangar. Two people were sitting in it. The one driving wore a soldier’s uniform. The second, sitting in the back, was dressed all in black.

  Louise turned to face them. I’ll brazen it out; after all, that’s what I’ve been doing all day.

  Then she realized the man in black was a priest, she could see the dog collar. She breathed out a sigh of relief. He must be an army padre.

  The jeep braked to a halt beside her.

  Louise smiled winningly, the smile which always made Daddy say yes. “I wonder if you could help us, I’m a little bit lost.”

  “I doubt that, Louise,” Quinn Dexter said. “Not someone as resourceful as you.”

  Louise started to run, but something cold and oily snaked around her ankles. She crashed down onto the timeworn concrete floor, grazing her hands and wrists.

  Quinn stepped down out of the jeep. The mockery of a cassock swirled around his feet. “Going somewhere?”

  She ignored her stinging hands and numbed knee, lifting her head to see him standing above her. “Devil! What have you done to Mummy?”

  His dog collar turned a shiny scarlet, as though it were made from blood. “Such a fucking great hurry for knowledge. Well don’t you worry, Louise, we’re going to show you exactly what happened to Mummy. I’m going to give you a personal demonstration.”

  “Do not touch her, sir,” Fletcher called as he came to a halt by the front of the jeep. “The lady Louise is my ward, under my protection.”

  “Traitor,” Lawrence Dillon yelled. “You are one of the blessed ones. God’s Brother allowed you back into this world to fight the legions of the false Lord. Now you defy the messiah chosen to lead the returned.”

 
Quinn clicked his fingers, and Lawrence fell silent. “I don’t know who you are, friend. But don’t fuck with me or you’ll die to regret it.”

  “I do not wish to draw swords with any man. So stand aside and we will go our separate ways.”

  “Arsehole. I’m stronger than you by myself; and there’s two of us.”

  Fletcher smiled thinly. “Then why do you not take what you desire by your might? Could it be I would struggle? And that would draw the attention of the soldiers. Are you stronger than an entire army?”

  “Don’t push it,” Quinn warned. “I’m off this shit tip planet today, and nobody’s gonna stop that. Now I know this bitch from before, she’s smart. She’ll have a starship lined up to take her away, right?”

  Louise glared up at him.

  “Thought so,” Quinn sneered. “Well, lover, you’re gonna hand your tickets over to me. My need is one fuck of a lot greater than yours.”

  “Never!” She groaned as Lawrence Dillon grabbed her by the back of her neck and hauled her upright.

  Fletcher made a start forwards, but stopped as Quinn pointed at Genevieve, who was cowering behind him.

  “Dumb move,” Quinn said. “I’ll blow you back to the beyond if I have to. And then it’ll go real bad for your little pal. You know I mean it. I won’t possess her. I’ll keep her for myself. Some nights I’ll hand her over to Lawrence; he knows some real kinks now. I taught him myself.”

  “Sure did.” Lawrence grinned wildly at Genevieve.

  “You are inhuman.” Fletcher put an arm instinctively around Genevieve.

  “Wrong!” Quinn barked. His sudden fury made Fletcher take a half pace backwards.

  “Banneth. Now she’s inhuman. She did things to me . . .” Spittle appeared on Quinn’s chin. He giggled, and wiped it away on the back of a trembling hand. “She did things, okay. And now. Now, I’m the one who’s gonna do things right back to her. Things so sick she’s never thought of them. God’s Brother understands that, understands the need in me. I’m gonna let my serpent beast devour her and then spew out the bits. I’ll turn my whole crusade on her if I have to. I’ll use biowar bugs, I’ll use nukes, I’ll use antimatter. I don’t fucking care. I’m gonna crack Earth wide open. And I’m gonna go down there, and I’m gonna take her. And nobody is going to stand in my way.”