‘I don’t think so.’ He touched the dark blood gathering in its pool. ‘Look’s like he’s bleeding badly, inside.’
‘What can we do?’ Yalson said.
‘Not a lot.’ Horza rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘What about some anti-coagulant?’ Aviger said from the far side of the pallet, where Balveda sat and watched the scene in front of her with dark, calm eyes.
‘Ours doesn’t work on them,’ Horza said.
‘Skinspray,’ Balveda said. They all looked at her. She nodded, looking at Horza. ‘If you have any medical alcohol and some skin-spray, make up an equal solution. If he’s got digestive tract injuries, that might help him. If it’s respiratory, he’s dead.’ Balveda shrugged at Horza.
‘Well, let’s do something, rather than stand around here all day,’ Yalson said.
‘It’s worth a try,’ Horza said. ‘Better get him upright, if we want to pour the stuff down his throat.’
‘That,’ the drone said wearily from beneath the pallet, ‘no doubt means me.’ It floated forward, placing the pallet on the floor near Xoxarle’s feet. Balveda stepped off as the drone transferred the load from its back to the tunnel floor. It floated to where Yalson and Horza stood by the prone Idiran.
‘I’ll lift with the drone,’ Horza told Yalson, putting his gun down; ‘you keep your gun on him.’
Wubslin, now kneeling on the tunnel floor and fiddling with the controls of the mass sensor, whistled quietly to himself. Balveda went round the back of the pallet to watch.
‘There it is,’ Wubslin smiled at her, nodding at the bright white dot on the green-lined screen. ‘Isn’t that a beauty?’
‘Station seven, you reckon, Wubslin?’ Balveda hunched her slim shoulders and shoved her hands deep into her jacket pockets. She wrinkled her nose as she watched the screen. She could smell herself.
They were all smelling, all giving off animal scents, after their time down there without washing. Wubslin was nodding.
‘Must be,’ he said to the Culture agent. Horza and the drone struggled to get the slack-limbed Idiran into a sitting position. Aviger went forward to help, taking off his helmet as he went. ‘Must be,’ Wubslin breathed, more to himself than to Balveda. His gun fell off his shoulder and he took it off, frowning at the jammed reel which was supposed to take up the slack on the weapon’s strap. He placed the weapon on the pallet and went back to tinkering with the mass sensor. Balveda edged closer, peering over the engineer’s shoulder. Wubslin looked round and up at her as Horza and the drone Unaha-Closp slowly heaved Xoxarle from the floor. Wubslin smiled awkwardly at the Culture agent, and moved the laser rifle he had placed on the pallet further away from Balveda. Balveda gave a small smile in return and took a step backwards. She took her hands out of her pockets and folded her arms, watching Wubslin work from a little further away.
‘Heavy bastard,’ Horza gasped, as he, Aviger and Unaha-Closp finally pulled and pushed Xoxarle’s back against the side of the tunnel. The massive head was angled limply forward over his chest. Liquid drooled from the side of his huge mouth. Horza and Aviger straightened. Aviger stretched his arms, grunting.
Xoxarle seemed dead; for a second, maybe two.
Then it was as though some immense force blasted him away from the wall. He threw himself forward and sideways, one arm whacking into Horza’s chest and sending the Changer cannoning into Yalson; at the same time, his partly buckled legs flicking straight, the Idiran pounced away from the group forward of the pallet, past Aviger thrown against the tunnel wall – and Unaha-Closp – slapped into the floor of the tunnel with Xoxarle’s other hand – towards the pallet.
Xoxarle flew over the pallet, his raised arm and massive fist coming down. Wubslin’s hand hadn’t even started to move for his gun.
The Idiran brought his fist down with all his strength, shattering the mass sensor with a single crushing blow. His other hand flashed out to snatch the laser. Wubslin threw himself back instinctively, knocking into Balveda.
Xoxarle’s hand snapped shut round the laser rifle like a sprung trap round an animal’s leg. He rolled through the air and over the disintegrating wreckage of the sensor. The gun twirled in his hand, pointing back down the tunnel to where Horza, Yalson and Aviger were still trying to recover their balance and Unaha-Closp was just starting to move. Xoxarle steadied briefly and aimed straight at Horza.
Unaha-Closp slammed into the Idiran’s lower jaw like a small, badly streamlined missile, lifting the section leader bodily from the pallet, stretching his neck on his shoulders, jerking all three of his legs together, and throwing his arms out to each side. Xoxarle landed with a thud beside Wubslin and lay still.
Horza stooped and grabbed his gun. Yalson ducked and swivelled, bringing her gun to bear. Wubslin sat up. Balveda had staggered back after Wubslin had fallen against her; a hand at her mouth, she stood now, staring down at where Unaha-Closp hovered in the air over Xoxarle’s face. Aviger rubbed his head and looked resentfully at the wall.
Horza went over to the Idiran. Xoxarle’s eyes were closed. Wubslin tore his rifle from the Idiran’s slack fist.
‘Not bad, drone,’ Horza said, nodding.
The machine turned to him. ‘Unaha-Closp,’ it said, exasperatedly.
‘OK,’ he sighed. ‘Well done, Unaha-Closp.’ Horza went to look at Xoxarle’s wrists. The wires had been snapped. The wires on his legs were intact, but those on his arms had been broken like threads.
‘I didn’t kill him, did I?’ Unaha-Closp said. Horza, the barrel of his rifle hard against Xoxarle’s head, shook his head.
Xoxarle’s body started to tremble; his eyes flicked open. ‘No, I’m not dead, little friends,’ the Idiran rumbled, and the cracking, scraping noise of his laughter echoed through the tunnels. He levered his torso slowly from the ground.
Horza kicked him in the side. ‘You—’
‘Little one!’ Xoxarle laughed before Horza could say any more. ‘Is this how you treat your allies?’ He rubbed his jaw, moving fractured plates of keratin. ‘I am injured,’ the great voice announced, then broke with laughter again, the big V head rocking forward towards the wreckage lying on the back of the pallet, ‘but not yet in the same state as your precious mass sensor!’
Horza rammed his gun against the Idiran’s head. ‘I ought—’
‘You ought to blow my head off right now; I know, Changer. I have told you already you should. Why don’t you?’
Horza tightened his finger round the trigger, holding his breath, then roared – shouted without words or sense at the seated figure in front of him – and strode off, past the pallet. ‘Tie that motherfucker up!’ he bellowed, and stamped by Yalson, who pivoted briefly to watch him go; then she turned back with a small shake of her head to watch while Aviger – helped by Wubslin, who cast the occasional mournful look at the debris from the mass sensor – trussed the Idiran’s arms down tightly to his sides with several loops of wire. Xoxarle was still shaking with laughter.
‘I think it sensed my mass! I think it sensed my fist! Ha!’
‘I hope somebody told that three-legged scumbag we still have a mass sensor in my suit,’ Horza said when Yalson caught up with him. Yalson looked over her shoulder, then said:
‘Well, I told him, but I don’t think he believed me.’ She looked at Horza. ‘Is it working?’
Horza glanced at the small repeater screen on his wrist controls. ‘Not at this range, but it will, when we get closer. We’ll still find the thing, don’t worry.’
‘I’m not worried,’ Yalson said. ‘You going to come back and join us?’ She looked back at the others again. They were twenty metres behind. Xoxarle, still chording now and again, was in front, with Wubslin walking behind guarding the Idiran with the stun gun. Balveda sat on the pallet, with Aviger floating behind.
Horza nodded. ‘I suppose so. Let’s wait here.’ He halted. Yalson, who had been walking rather than floating, stopped too.
They leant against the tunnel wall as Xoxarle ca
me closer. ‘How are you, anyway?’ Horza asked the woman.
Yalson shrugged. ‘Fine. How are you?’
‘I meant—’ Horza began.
‘I know what you meant,’ Yalson said, ‘and I told you I’m fine. Now, stop being such a pain in the ass.’ She smiled at him. ‘OK?’
‘OK,’ Horza said, pointing the gun at Xoxarle as the Idiran went past.
‘Lost your way, Changer?’ the giant rumbled.
‘Just keep walking,’ Horza told him. He fell into step alongside Wubslin.
‘Sorry I put my gun down on the pallet,’ the engineer said. ‘It was stupid.’
‘Never mind,’ Horza told him. ‘It was the sensor he was after. The gun must just have been a pleasant surprise. Anyway, the drone saved us.’
Horza gave a kind of snort through his nose, like a laugh. ‘The drone saved us,’ he repeated to himself, and shook his head.
. . . ah my soul my soul, all is darkness now. now i die, now i slip away and nothing will be left. i am frightened. great one, pity me, but i am frightened. no sleep of victory; i heard. merely my death. darkness and death. moment for all to become one, instance of annihilation. i have failed; i heard and now i know. failed. death too good for me. oblivion like release. more than i deserve, much more. i cannot let go, i must hold on because i do not deserve a quick, willed end. my comrades wait, but they do not know how much i have failed. i am not worthy to join them. my clan must weep.
ah this pain . . . darkness and pain . . .
They came to the station.
The Command System train towered over the platform, its dark length glistening in the lights of the small band of people entering the station.
‘Well, here we are at last,’ Unaha-Closp said. It stopped and let Balveda slide off the pallet, then put the slab with its supplies and material down on the dusty floor.
Horza ordered the Idiran to stand against the nearest access gantry, and tied him against it.
‘Well,’ Xoxarle said as Horza strapped him to the metal, ‘what of your Mind, little one?’ He looked down like a reproachful adult at the human wrapping the wire round his body. ‘Where is it? I don’t see it.’
‘Patience, Section Leader,’ Horza said.
He secured the wire and tested it, then stepped back. ‘Comfortable?’ he asked.
‘My guts ache, my chin is broken and my hand has pieces of your mass sensor embedded in it,’ Xoxarle said. ‘Also my mouth is a little sore inside, where I bit it earlier, to produce all that convincing blood. Otherwise I am well, thank you, ally.’ Xoxarle bowed his head as much as he was able.
‘Don’t go away, now.’ Horza smiled thinly. He left Yalson to guard Xoxarle and Balveda while he and Wubslin went to the power-switching room.
‘I’m hungry,’ Aviger said. He sat on the pallet and opened a ration bar.
Inside the switching room, Horza studied the meters, switches and levers for a few moments, then started to adjust the controls.
‘I, uh . . .’ Wubslin began, scratching his brow through the open visor of his helmet, ‘I was wondering . . . about the mass sensor in your suit . . . Is it working?’
Lights came on in one control group, a bank of twenty dials glowing faintly. Horza studied the dials and then said, ‘No. I already checked. It’s getting a low reading from the train, but nothing else. It’s been that way since about two kilometres back up the tunnel. Either the Mind’s gone since the ship sensor was smashed, or this one in my suit isn’t working properly.’
‘Oh shit,’ Wubslin sighed.
‘What the hell,’ Horza said, flicking some switches and watching more meters light up. ‘Let’s get the power on. Maybe we’ll think of something.’
‘Yes.’ Wubslin nodded. He glanced back out through the open doors of the room, as if to see whether the lights were coming on yet. All he saw was the dark shape of Yalson’s back, out on the dim platform. A section of shadowy train, three storeys high, showed beyond.
Horza went to another wall and repositioned some levers. He tapped a couple of dials, peered into a bright screen, then rubbed his hands together and put his thumb over a button on the central console. ‘Well, this is it,’ he said.
He brought his thumb down on the button.
‘Yes!’
‘Hey-hey!’
‘We did it!’
‘About time, too, if you ask me.’
‘Hmm, little one, so that’s how it’s done . . .’
‘. . . Shit! If I’d known it was this colour I wouldn’t have started it . . .’
Horza heard the others. He took a deep breath and turned to look at Wubslin. The stocky engineer stood, blinking slightly, in the bright lights of the power control room. He smiled. ‘Great,’ he said. He looked round the room, still nodding. ‘Great. At last.’
‘Well done, Horza,’ Yalson said.
Horza could hear other switches, bigger ones, automatics linked to the master switch he had closed, moving in the space beneath his feet. Humming noises filled the room, and the smell of burning dust rose like the warm scent of an awakening animal all around him. Light flooded in from the station outside. Horza and Wubslin checked a few meters and monitors, then went outside.
The station was bright. It sparkled; the grey-black walls reflected the strip lights and glow panels which covered the roof. The Command System train, now seen properly for the first time, filled the station from end to end: a shining metal monster, like a vast android version of a segmented insect.
Yalson took off her helmet, ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair and looked up and around, squinting in the bright yellow-white light falling from the station roof high above.
‘Now, then,’ Unaha-Closp said, floating over towards Horza. The machine’s casing glittered in the harsh new light. ‘Where exactly is this device we’re looking for?’ It came close to Horza’s face. ‘Does your suit sensor register it? Is it here? Have we found it?’
Horza pushed the machine away with one hand. ‘Give me time, drone. We only just got here. I got the power on, didn’t I?’ He walked past it, followed by Yalson, still looking about her, and Wubslin, also staring, though mostly at the gleaming train. Lights shone inside it. The station filled with the hum of idling motors, the hiss of air circulators and fans. Unaha-Closp floated round to face Horza, reversing through the air while keeping level with the man’s face.
‘What do you mean? Surely all you have to do is look at the screen; can you see the Mind on there or not?’ The drone came closer, dipping down to look at the controls and the small screen on Horza’s suit cuff. He swatted it away.
‘I’m getting some interference from the reactor.’ Horza glanced at Wubslin. ‘We’ll cope with it.’
‘Take a look round the repair area, check the place out,’ Yalson said to the machine. ‘Make yourself useful.’
‘It isn’t working, is it?’ Unaha-Closp said. It kept pace with Horza, still facing him and backing through the air in front of him. ‘That three-legged lunatic smashed the mass sensor on the pallet, and now we’re blind; we’re back to square one, aren’t we?’
‘No,’ Horza said impatiently, ‘we are not. We’ll repair it. Now, how about doing something useful for a change?’
‘For a change?’ Unaha-Closp said with what sounded like feeling. ‘For a change? You’re forgetting who it was saved all your skins back in the tunnels when our cute little Idiran liaison officer over there started running amuck.’
‘All right, drone,’ Horza said through clenched teeth. ‘I’ve said thank you. Now, why don’t you take a look around the station, just in case there’s anything to be seen.’
‘Like Minds you can’t spot on wasted suit mass sensors, for example? And what are you lot going to be doing while I’m doing that?’
‘Resting,’ Horza said. ‘And thinking.’ He stopped at Xoxarle and inspected the Idiran’s bonds.
‘Oh, great,’ Unaha-Closp sneered. ‘And a lot of good all your thinking has done—’
&nbs
p; ‘For fuck’s sake, Unaha-Closp,’ Yalson said, sighing heavily, ‘either go or stay, but shut up.’
‘I see! Right!’ Unaha-Closp drew away from them and rose in the air. ‘I’ll just go and lose myself, then! I should have—’
It was floating away as it spoke. Horza shouted over the drone’s voice, ‘Before you go, can you hear any alarms?’
‘What?’ Unaha-Closp came to a halt. Wubslin put a pained, studious expression on his face and looked around the station’s bright walls, as though making an effort to hear above the frequencies his ears could sense.
Unaha-Closp was silent for a moment, then said, ‘No. No alarms. I’m going now. I’ll check out the other train. When I think you might be in a more amenable mood I’ll come back.’ It turned and sped off.
‘Dorolow could have heard the alarms,’ Aviger muttered, but nobody heard.
Wubslin looked up at the train, gleaming in the station lights, and like it, seemed to glow from within.
. . . what is this? is it light? do i imagine it? am i dying? is this what happens? am i dying now, so soon? i thought i had a while left and i don’t deserve . . .
light! it is light!
I can see again!
Welded to the cold metal by his own dry blood, his body cracked and twisted, mutilated and dying, he opened his one good eye as far as he could. Mucus had dried on it, and he had to blink, trying to clear it.
His body was a dark and alien land of pain, a continent of torment.
. . . One eye left. One arm. A leg missing, just lopped off. One numb and paralysed, another broken (he tested to make sure, trying to move that limb; a pain like fire flashed through him, like a lightning flash over the shadowed country that was his body and his pain), and my face . . . my face . . .
He felt like a smashed insect, abandoned by some children after an afternoon’s cruel play. They had thought he was dead, but he was not built the way they were. A few holes were nothing; an amputated limb . . . well, his blood did not gush like theirs when a leg or arm was removed (he remembered a recording of a human dissection), and for the warrior there was no shock; not like their poor soft, flesh-flabby systems. He had been shot in the face, but the beam or bullet had not penetrated through the internal keratin brain cover, or severed his nerves. Similarly, his eyes had been smashed, but the other side of his face was intact, and he could still see.