The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy)

by Neil Davies

  That's it. Our one chance.

  "The Aksians out there will be keeping well back when the Bosens come." She spoke quietly, but within the confines of the room the others on the far side heard her clearly.

  "I don't blame them."

  She could not tell who the speaker was. She only vaguely recognised the voice.

  "But when they pull back, trusting the Bosens to do the job for them, gaps will appear."

  "All we have to do is get through the Bosens you mean? This has got to be a joke," said Alan, shuffling forward out of the shadows and looking across to Ursa.

  "Why Bosens? Why don't they just kill us themselves?" John's voice was rising towards hysteria.

  Is it surprising? How would I react if my greatest, most terrifying nightmare suddenly became a reality?

  "They want to make an example of us," Alan again, his voice heavy with resignation.

  "And you're going to just sit back and let it happen? I thought you had more guts!" Ursa spat the words out with more venom than she felt.

  I've got to shock them out of this. They must believe that it's at least worth trying. They mustn't just give up or we're all dead.

  "I've got plenty of guts." Alan was almost on his feet now, his pride stung as intended. "But these animals just kill and kill. No one can get away from them."

  "Plenty of people have."

  "People in a crowd, lucky while others around them die."

  "Exactly," said Ursa, crossing to where Alan crouched, followed almost slavishly by John. "People in a crowd. Lots of people all around the Bosens, plenty for them to kill at random. If you put a machine in there that just slashed back and forth with no pattern it would kill just as many."

  "What's your point?" Alan still sounded sceptical, but he was listening carefully. Ursa had proved on more than one occasion that her thoughts were worth, at the very least, careful consideration.

  "When the target's smaller they might not be so effective. Think about that machine again. In a crowd, with people pushing and shoving, trying to get away, many are thrown into its path. But a small number of people could quite easily keep away from the thrashing blades, duck underneath, find a way round."

  "The Bosens are quick and powerful, and they have more intelligence than your fictional machine." The man whose name Ursa could not remember spoke up. She dimly remembered that he was a survivor of one of those Bosen attacks.

  "They have an intelligence of violence. Their one thought seems to be to hurt, to kill."

  "You don't know that," said Alan, but the tone of resignation was lifting.

  "No, I don't know that. But I can draw conclusions from what I've seen, from what other people have seen."

  Silence fell, broken only by the maddening sound of the Bird Of Death now hovering almost directly overhead.

  Any second now they'll drop and we're done for, unless a decision is reached.

  "I saw my parents killed by Bosens," said John, his voice breaking, barely controlled sobs threatening. In the dim light from the doorway, tears sparkled on his cheeks.

  Ursa reached out, took his hand once more and felt a strangely confident pressure.

  "But they died fighting." His voice seemed to gain strength as he spoke, forcing the sobs of bitter memory down. "They didn't die just standing there waiting. My mother..." his voice almost broke. "My mother died trying to find me after we got separated. My father died attacking the Bosen who killed her. I am not going to disgrace myself and their memory by sitting here waiting to die like a coward. I may be frightened, and I know you all think of me as just a boy, but I can die like... like my father!"

  Ursa gripped his hand tighter and smiled at him in the semi-darkness.

  I could love this boy who is becoming a man before my eyes. But first we must live through this.

  She turned to look at Alan, her question unspoken but understood.

  "It's foolish," he said, almost smiling. "But it's no more foolish than waiting quietly for the end like animals in the slaughterhouse. Have you any suggestions on how best to fight these creatures?"

  Now we have a chance.

  Two minutes later, the Bosens attacked.

  There were surprisingly few of them, or so it seemed to Ursa with later reflection, maybe six or seven at the most. She had expected more.

  Alan gave words to her thoughts in one strangled gasp as the ape-like creatures came ploughing through the doorway, knocking bricks from the wall as if they were made of paper.

  "We obviously don't merit much effort."

  "Then why send the Bosens at all?"

  John said this, and Ursa turned to him to calm him. She had heard the threat of hysteria in his voice once more.

  They want to make an example of us, she thought, but I daren't tell you that. It might just push you over the edge.

  She pulled him closer to her, touched a fleeting kiss to his lips and then turned to face what she still saw as probable death.

  Larn! They're going to follow my advice when even I don't know if it's good or bad.

  She watched as the Bosens lumbered and lurched into the room, eyes wild and staring, mouths open revealing sharp, carnivore teeth. Even through their matted hair it was possible to see, or perhaps sense, the muscles beneath. A strong smell of rot and decay infected the air, a smell reminiscent of the darkest swamp and festering half-eaten animal carcasses. And...

  Is that mist?

  ...almost impossible to see, little more than a suggestion at the edges of sight, ethereal wisps of steam seemed to lift from their broad shoulders.

  They made no sound. There were no animal roars or snarls, just silence. A silence that was worse than any noise could possibly be.

  A shot rang out from the other side of the room.

  A faint plume of what looked like dust rose from the chest of one of the Bosens. The eyes narrowed, the step faltered, and then the creature turned and sprinted for the source of the attack.

  Larn! The speed!

  Two great strides and the Bosen was into the shadows. Ursa could do nothing as the man whose name she could not remember was lifted into the air. She saw the struggle, heard the screams, and then a lifeless body was thrown into the corner, it's head little more than a bloody pulp. The Bosen turned, blood dripping from its mouth.

  We were meant to avoid contact, avoid attack. Why did he shoot?

  She looked across to Alan. He was obviously in shock as he turned and caught her eye. The comment was unspoken between them, but each could see it in the other's face.

  We never expected the speed.

  "Come on," she snapped at John as she pushed herself out of her hiding place towards the Bosens, wincing at the pain from her artificial foot.

  She had no real idea whether John was following her or not, all her concentration was on what lay in front of her. She ran straight at the nearest Bosen...

  Is that expression surprise?

  ...so close that she felt she could sense the imminent blow that would kill her if it connected.

  Late, perhaps later than she had intended, she ducked and weaved, feeling the draught from the arm that swung above her lowered head.

  She was around the Bosen quickly and heading for the door, suddenly aware of others doing the same.

  It's working. Larn, it's working. We're getting through!

  A horrible, cut-off scream scythed through her thoughts. Not everyone would make it tonight.

  John? Will John make it?

  She felt the sickness in her stomach, the terrible feeling of emptiness. Had that scream been John?

  She turned, grimacing at the bloody corpse that lay not far from her.

  Thank Larn, they're not John's clothes.

  She searched frantically for John, knowing that each second she delayed brought her own death closer. The Bosens had been slow to react at first...

  Interesting how quickly they react to a direct attack though.

  ...but now they were using whatever passed for intelligence to see
the pattern in the movements around them. Soon they would realise their targets were escaping and they would attack, and at their speed of attack Ursa doubted any of the rebels would survive.

  We must be outside by the time that happens. But how can I leave John?

  "Ursa! Help!"

  The cries came from a far corner, the same corner that she and John had hidden in not so long ago.

  Larn! He didn't run when I told him to.

  She could see him now, trapped, half lying, half sitting on the floor, rigid with terror at the sight of the Bosen rearing up above him.

  If I don't do something quickly he'll be dead. But what?

  No one on Aks had yet killed a Bosen. Weapons seemed useless against their matted hide.

  There's no such thing as an animal that can't be killed. I must find the weak spot.

  Every creature had a weak spot, she knew this from her training and from years of experience, but the Bosens were so strong. It was obviously useless to attack the body.

  It's like they're wearing armour plating all over their bodies, all over their heads.

  Heads. Faces. Eyes!

  You can't armour plate eyes, not if you want to see.

  She grabbed her gun from its holster, raised it, aimed.

  Larn, help my aim!

  "Look at me you bastard," she whispered hoarsely as she pulled the trigger.

  Her shot hit the Bosen square in the back. Dust rose. The Bosen turned, moved towards her.

  Shit, the speed!

  She stood her ground when all her senses were screaming at her to run or dive out of the way. She opened up with her weapon, every shot aimed into the face of the rapidly approaching Bosen.

  She could not be sure which of her bullets actually found their mark, but she did become aware of the plumes of dust, not just at the front but at the back of the head too, and a faint sheen of crimson in the dust.

  The Bosen staggered, stumbled, and fell, its reaching hand just touching Ursa's foot. One eye stared at her in what she took to be surprise, the other was nothing but a bloody mess, a seeping hole drilled through the animal's skull.

  Ursa was still pulling the trigger after the weapon clicked empty.

  I've found it, you bastards. I've found the way to kill you!

  She felt John's hand enter hers and pull her back towards the door.

  "Come on! The others won't take kindly to one of their friends being killed."

  There was a slight hesitation, a moment when the young boy's eyes met with Ursa's. He mumbled one word before they weaved around another Bosen and found the doorway.

  "Thanks."

  They broke out into a grey morning, headed straight down a narrow side alley, passing directly in front of a surprised army of Aksian military and police. Ursa was vaguely aware that several weapons were aimed in their direction, she even suspected one or two had fired, the sound of the shots lost in the general debacle emanating from the building, but most held their fire, more terrified of accidentally hitting a Bosen than they were of losing their targets.

  Above them, still, the steady thwum thwum thwum of the Bird of Death, a death that could strike down at them at any moment.

  It was an enormous gamble.

  It's working. Larn, it's working!

  Ursa set the pace, pulling John behind her. Her head jerked back and forth, eyes scanning the tops of the alley wall on one side, the windows of the building on the other. The surprise would not last long. She expected to hear the sounds of pursuit at any moment, the only question being who would pursue them, Aksians or Bosens?

  Where was she going? Her mind span in turmoil.

  "I've been down here so many times. Why can't I remember where it leads?" she gasped, the words escaping between harshly drawn-in breaths.

  "Are we going to make it?"

  She winced at the pleading tone in John's words. The boy was terrified, but clung to his belief that Ursa could answer all his questions, solve all his problems.

  "Yes." Ursa spat the word out, the taste of it hateful in her mouth. She sounded so confident yet she doubted so much.

  How can I tell him that I don't know? He depends on me.

  Behind them she heard the continuing shouts and screams, the occasional shot fired, but no sound of anyone rushing after them. Ahead she could see the end of the alley, where it opened out into a major road splitting the suburbs as surely as any boundary fence.

  I know safe houses on the other side. Larn, I really think we're going to make it!

  She tried to turn, to twist aside as she saw the uniformed figures step across the alleyway. Four, maybe five, all aiming weapons at her.

  That's why they didn't follow, she thought, her mind still reasoning somewhere beneath a sense of fear and frustration. They were already moving ahead of us.

  She heard John's cry of despair, started to turn to look at him one last time and felt something slam into her back.

  Pain sliced through her, as if someone had punched her in the kidneys, and she tumbled forward, grabbing in vain at John's hand as she did so. She was almost aware that she fell with her face in the garbage of the alley. Her vision blurred, darkness encroaching at the edges, as she tried to look up to where John stood.

  He was barely more than a fuzzy shape to her weakening eyes, but she could see the impact on his chest, see him twist and fall, clutching at the wound. She heard his cry of anguish, his calling for his mother.

  He's just a boy!

  The blackness engulfed her.

  Chapter 41

  The Controller looked out from his office window over one of the few natural forests left on Earth. He was in favour of the Global Parks scattered across his world, having personally presided over the opening ceremony of more than one in his time, but nothing could compare to the wild natural beauty that lay before him.

  I rule a world of polluted air, crowded cities, over-farmed land and carefully sculpted wilderness, he thought. But even among all that, nature can produce and maintain places like this.

  The forest was his personal triumph, nestling within an unprotected section of his official residence, the Controller's Palace. He had fought for that area, fought against those who insisted everything should be within a climate control dome, that nothing should be left to chance.

  What they call 'chance', I call 'nature'.

  "What about storms?" they had cried. "What if the trees are uprooted? The snow and ice in winter could kill them. They must be protected!"

  Protection! He stifled a laugh, aware that the ever-present security system would be monitoring him. Their protection is suppression. Nothing new had evolved on Earth in the last century, no new plants, no new adaptation in the animal life, all because of this protection, this control imposed by those who knew best.

  The uncomfortable idea suddenly struck him to compare what had happened in the natural world with his own administration.

  “Do I suppress rather than protect? Have I stunted the evolution of our society by the rules my government has set out?”

  Commander-in-chief Markland, sitting in a chair opposite the Controller’s desk, was unsure whether the question was meant for him or rhetorical, but he decided to play safe.

  “I don’t know Controller. It’s not something I’ve given much thought to.”

  The Controller ignored him, his thoughts racing ahead. He had seen it in the Larnian Church for many years. Censorship under the guise of protection. Thought manipulation under the guise of protection. Control.

  “All substantial organisations and institutions do it don’t they? Control their people while telling them it's for their own good. How do we know what's for their own good? Can't they decide for themselves?”

  He found the thoughts disconcerting but could not stop. He felt there was something important nagging at the edges, something more significant than concerns about the rights and wrongs of his personal actions.

  “What kind of organisations Controller?” asked Markland, uneasy with the
tone of the Controller’s words. If one of his own men had spoken that way Markland would have brought him up on charges of subversion and treason.

  The Controller turned from the window, acknowledging Markland’s interruption this time.

  “There are none more substantial than the Reagold Corporation. So, tell me this Commander. For as long as I can remember, the Larnian Church has opposed the Reagold Corporation in its many attempts to get its products a direct distribution line on Earth, and that opposition has always been enough to sway the decision makers. They were protecting the people from this evil corporation. Yet now, since our disastrous attempt at signing the treaty with Aks, Reagold has been courted and welcomed by the Church. A representative of the corporation is due to arrive soon, to be met by senior officials of the Larnian Church, including my own advisor, Loadra. What are they up to? The Church never does anything without a reason, and such a major U-turn must have one hell of a reason behind it.”

  Even Loadra, he thought, whom I have heard several times cursing the Reagold Corporation openly and vehemently, has been complimentary about their work and their products, preaching a sermon of a bright future with Reagold and Earth combined. Did I detect a certain discomfort with the words he spoke? I remember feeling at the time that his manner was of one forced by circumstance to say things he did not truly believe.

  “Unfortunately I am not privy to the inner workings of the Church, Controller. If I were I might be able to answer your questions.”

  “And what of Aks? Our latest reports from there indicate that the government, under its new Leader, has turned from the path of subtle protection to open and brutal suppression. Is my own government heading that way? Will I be forced into such violent reactions? What have the Larnian Church to gain from an alliance with Reagold?”

  Markland shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The Controller’s words were dangerously close to heresy. Although Markland commanded the armed forces, he had no doubt as to the power and influence of the Church. Through his many campaigns, his numerous battles, he had always remained faithful to two ideals, Earth and the true Larnian faith. The Controller was just a man. A man he had sworn loyalty to, but nevertheless just a man.