Syrinx watched through Oenone’s sensor blisters as the crew toroid’s clamshell hangar doors hinged apart. Oxley piloted their small boxy multifunction service vehicle out into space, yellow-orange chemical flames propelling it round towards Lady Macbeth’s open cargo hatch.
Joshua Calvert was marched into the bridge by two marines in dark carbotanium armour suits. He grinned round affably at the members of Syrinx’s crew, with an even wider display of teeth when his eyes found her.
She shifted uncomfortably under the handsome young man’s attention. This was not how the interception was supposed to be going.
<
> Ruben told her abruptly.
Syrinx flicked a glance at her lover. He was sitting behind his console, an expression of glum resignation settling on his features. He combed his fingers back through his beret of curly white hair.
<> she asked.
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Ruben simply raised an ironic eyebrow.
She returned her attention to the tall captain. She was annoyed at the way his gaze seemed to be fastened on her breasts.
“Captain Syrinx,” he said warmly. “I must congratulate you and your ship. That was a superb piece of flying, really quite superb. Jesus, you scared the crap out of some of my crew the way you jumped us like that. We thought you were a pair of blackhawks.” He stuck his hand out. “It’s a pleasure to meet a captain who is so obviously talented. And I hope you don’t take offence, but an extremely attractive captain as well.”
<>
Syrinx ignored the offered hand. “Captain Calvert, we have reason to suspect you are involved with importing proscribed technology into this star system. I am therefore cautioning you that your ship will be searched under the powers invested in me by the Confederation Assembly.
Any refusal to permit our search is a violation of Confederation space regulatory code which permits lawful officers full access to all systems and records once a request has been made by said officers. I am now making that request. Do you understand?”
“Well, gosh, yes,” Joshua said earnestly. A note of doubt crept in. “I hate to ask, but are you quite sure you’ve got the right ship?”
“Perfectly sure,” Syrinx said icily.
“Oh, well of course I’ll cooperate in any way I can. I think you navy people do a great job. It’s always reassuring for us commercial vessels to know we can always rely on you to maintain interstellar order.”
“Please. Don’t spoil the effect now, son,” Ruben said wearily. “You’ve been doing so well.”
“I’m just a citizen happy to oblige,” Joshua said.
“A citizen who owns a ship that has an antimatter drive,” Syrinx said sharply.
Joshua’s gaze refocused on the front of her pale blue ship-tunic. “I didn’t design it. That’s the way it was built. Actually it was built by the Ferring Astronautics company in Earth’s O’Neill Halo. I understand Earth is the greatest Edenist ally in the Confederation? That’s what my didactic history courses say, anyway.”
“We have a common viewpoint,” Syrinx said reluctantly, anything else would have sounded like an admission of guilt.
“Couldn’t you have the drive taken out?” Ruben asked.
Joshua managed an appropriately concerned expression. “I wish I could afford to. But there was a lot of damage when my father saved those Edenists from the pirates. The refit took all the money I had.”
“Saved which Edenists?” Cacus blurted.
<> Syrinx and Ruben told him together. The life-support engineer spread his hands helplessly.
“It was an aid convoy to Anglade,” Joshua said. “There was a bacteriological plague there several years ago. My father joined the relief effort, of course; what are commercial needs compared to saving human life? They were taking viral-processing equipment to the planet to manufacture an antidote. Unfortunately they were attacked by blackhawks who wanted to steal the cargo, that kind of equipment is expensive.
Jesus, I mean some people are really low, you know? There was a fight, and one of the escort voidhawks was wounded. The blackhawks were closing in for the kill, but my father waited until the crew got out. He jumped with a blackhawk’s distortion field locked on. It was the only chance they had, they were badly damaged, but the old Lady Mac, she got them out alive.” Joshua closed his eyes, remembering old pain. “Father didn’t like to mention it much.”
<> Ruben asked heavily.
<> Tula asked.
<> Oenone said. <>
<> Syrinx said.
<> Oenone said. <>
<>
The silence in her mind was reproachful.
“Yes, well, that was the past,” Syrinx said awkwardly to Joshua Calvert.
“Your problem is here in the present.”
<> Oxley called.
The cautious mental tone warned her. Yes?
<>
<> She looked through Oxley’s eyes into the MSV’s tiny cabin. Eileen Carouch was strapped in a web next to him; several screens were covered in complicated multi-coloured graphics.
The liaison officer wore a worried frown as she studied the displays.
Outside the port, Syrinx could see one of the Lady Macbeth’s cargo-pods gripped in the MSV’s heavy-duty waldo arm. It had been opened, and the tokamak coils had been removed by some of the mandible-like manipulator waldos.
Eileen Carouch turned to face Oxley. “It doesn’t look good. According to our information both of these pods should contain the confinement coils.”
<> Ruben said.
<> Syrinx demanded.
<> Oxley asked.
<>
<>
“Everything all right?” Joshua asked.
Syrinx opened her eyes, and manufactured a killer-sweet smile. “Just fine, thank you.”
Eileen Carouch and Oxley opened all eighteen cargo-pods supposed to contain the illegal coils. In every one they found neatly packaged tokamak coils.
Syrinx ordered them to open another five pods at random. They contained tokamak coils.
Syrinx gave up. Ruben was right, they’d been had.
That night she lay on her bunk, unable to sleep even though the body tensions due to ten days of enforced stealth routine had almost abated.
Ruben was asleep beside her. There had been no prospect of sex when they came off duty, her mood was too black. He seemed to accept their defeat with a phlegmatism which she found annoying.
<> she asked Oenone. <>
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Syrinx smiled in the cabin’s half light. <>
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<> She put an arm over Ruben so that he would know she wasn’t angry with him when he woke. But when she closed her eyes the normal vista of starfields that accompanied her into sleep had been replaced by a roguish smile and a rugged face that was all angles.
Chapter 13
His name was Carter McBride, and he was ten years old; an only child, the pride of his parents Dimitri and Victoria, who spoilt him as best their circumstances would allow. Like most of Aberdale’s younger generation he enjoyed the jungle and the river; Lalonde was much more fun than the cheerless dry concrete, steel, and composite caves of Earth’s arcologies.
The opportunities for games in his new land were limitless. He had his own little garden in the corner of his father’s field, which he kept chock-full of strawberry plants, geneered so that the big scarlet fruits didn’t rot in the rain and humidity. He had a cocker spaniel called Chomper that was always getting underfoot and making off with clothes from the McBride cabin. He was receiving didactic courses from Ruth Hilton, who said he was absorbing the agronomy data at a satisfactory rate, and would make a promising farmer one day. And because he was almost eleven his parents trusted him to play unsupervised, saying he was responsible enough not to wander too far into the jungle.
The morning after Horst Elwes encountered the Ly-cilph in the church, Carter was down by the river where he and the other kids were building a raft from scraps of timber left over from one of the adults’ construction projects. He realized that he hadn’t seen Chomper for about fifteen minutes, and looked around the clearing. A flash of ginger fur in the trees behind the community hall made him shout in exasperation at the silly animal. There was no immediate response, so he set off in vigorous pursuit, boots kicking up a splash in the thin layer of mud. By the time he reached the boundary of the jungle he could hear Chomper barking excitedly somewhere inside the crush of trees and creepers. He waved at Mr Travis, who was hoeing the soil around his baby pineapple plants, and plunged into the jungle after his dog.
Chomper seemed intent on leading him directly away from the village.
Carter called and called until his throat felt raw. He was hot and sticky and his fraying T-shirt was smeared in long streaks of green-yellow sap from the broken creepers. He was also very angry with Chomper, who was going to be put on a choker lead as soon as they got home. And after that there would be the proper obedience-training classes that Mr Manani had promised him.
The chase finally came to an end in a small glade of tall qualtook trees, whose thick canopy of foliage didn’t let much sunlight through. Spindly blades of grass grew up to Carter’s knees, vines with a mass of lemon-coloured berries foamed up around the glossy trunks. Chomper was standing in the middle of the glade, his hackles raised, growling at a tree.
Carter grabbed hold of his neck, yelling out exactly what he thought of dogs at that moment. The spaniel resisted the pulling and urging, yapping frantically.
“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded in exasperation.
Then the tall black lady appeared. One second there was only a qualtook tree in front of him, the next she was standing five metres away, dressed in a grey jump suit, and pulling her hood off. Long chestnut hair tumbled down.
Chomper had fallen silent. Carter clung to him, gazing at the lady with his mouth open, too surprised to say anything. She winked and beckoned.
Carter smiled up at her trustingly, and trotted over.
<> Camilla said. <>
<> Laton replied curtly. <>
“Horst, this can’t go on,” Ruth said.
The priest just groaned with immense self-pity. He was lying on the cot where he’d been dumped the night before, crumpled olive-green blankets wound tightly round his legs. Sometime during the night he’d been sick again. A congealing puddle of waxy vomit lay on the floorboards below his pillow.
“Go away,” he mumbled.
“Stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself, and get up.”
He rolled over slowly. She could see he’d been crying, his eyes were red rimmed, the lashes sticky. “I mean it, Ruth. Go away, right away. Take Jay with you, and leave. Find a boat, pay whatever it costs, get yourself back to Durringham, then get off this planet. Just leave.”
“Stop talking like an idiot. Aberdale isn’t that bad. We’ll find a way to deal with the Ivets. I’m going to have Rai Molvi call a town meeting tonight, I’m going to tell people what I think is going on.” She took a breath. “I want you to back me up, Horst.”
“No. You mustn’t. Don’t antagonize the Ivets. Please, for your own safety, Ruth. Don’t do it. There’s still time for you to get away.”
“For God’s sake, Horst—”
“Ha! God is dead,” he said bitterly. “Or at least He’s banished this planet from His kingdom long ago.” He beckoned her down with an agitated hand signal, glancing furtively at the open door.
Ruth took a reluctant step closer to the cot, wrinkling her nose up at the smell.
“I saw it,” Horst said in a throaty whisper. “Last night. It was there in the church.”
“What was there?”
“It. The demon they’ve summoned. I saw it, Ruth. Red, gleaming red, blinding red. The light of hell. Satan’s eye opened and stared right at me. This is his world, Ruth. Not our lord Christ’s. We should never have come here. Never.”
“Oh, shit,” she murmured under her breath. A whole host of practical problems ran through her mind: how to get him back to Durringham, whether there was even a psychiatrist on the planet, who could take over the little clinic he ran for the village. She scratched at the back of her sweaty hair, looking down at him as if he was some kind of elaborate riddle she was supposed to solve.
Rai Molvi ran up the wooden steps to the door and barged in. “Ruth,” he said breathlessly. “I thought I’d find you here. Carter McBride is missing; kid’s been gone a couple of hours now. Someone said they saw him chasing that damn nuisance dog of his into the jungle. I’m organizing a search party. Are you in?” Rai Molvi didn’t even seem to have noticed Horst.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll get someone to watch Jay.”
“Mrs Cranthorp is taking care of that, she’ll get the kids into a group and give them some lunch. We’re assembling by the hall in ten minutes.” He turned to go.
“I’ll help,” Horst said.
“As you like,” Rai said, and hurried out.
“Well, you made a big impression on him,” Ruth said.
“Please, Ruth, you must leave this place.”
“We’ll see after tonight. Right now I’ve got a child to help find.” She paused. “Damn, Carter’s about the same age as Jay.”
The drawn-out whistle brought them all running. Arnold Travis was sitting slumped against the foot of a mayope tree. He just stared brokenly at the ground, silver whistle hanging from a corner of his mouth.
The villagers arrived in pairs, crashing through the vines and scrub bushes, sending hordes of birds screeching into the bakin
g sky. When they did stumble into the little glade the sight which greeted them seemed to suck the strength from their limbs. A semicircle formed round the big cherry oak tree, stricken faces staring at its grisly burden.
Powel Manani was one of the last to arrive. Vorix was with him, loping easily through the lush undergrowth. Canine senses bubbled into Powel’s mind, the monochrome images, the sharp sounds, and the vast range of smells. There was an overpowering scent of blood in the air.
He pushed and elbowed his way to the front of the shocked crowd, caught sight of the cherry oak tree—“Jesus!” His hand came up to cover his mouth. Something deep inside wanted to let loose a primeval wail, just to shout and shout until all the pain was disgorged.
Carter McBride was hanging upside-down against the tree. His feet had been bound to the trunk with dried vine cords, making it look as though he was standing on his head. Both arms were spread wide, held parallel to the ground by a pair of stakes at each wrist. The long wounds were no longer bleeding. Tiny insects wriggled through the saturated grass below his head, gorging on the bounty.
Dimitri McBride took two tottering steps towards his son, then sank down to his knees as though in prayer. He looked round at the circle of ashen faces with a faintly bewildered expression. “I don’t understand. Carter was ten years old. Who did this? I don’t understand. Please tell me.” He saw his own pain reflected in the weeping eyes surrounding him. “Why this? Why do this?”
“The Ivets,” Horst said. Little Carter’s scarlet eyeballs were staring right into him, urging him to speak. “This is the inverted cross,” he said pedantically. It was important to be right in a matter like this, he felt, important that they should all fully comprehend. “The opposite of the crucifix. They worship the Light Brother, you see. The Light Brother is diametrically opposed to our lord Jesus, so the sects perform this sacrifice as a mockery. It’s very logical, really.” Horst found his breath was hard to come by, as if he’d been running a long distance.