Sons of the Crystal Mind (Diamond Roads Book 1) (16 page)

Finally Ursula goes limp. After that awful tension it looks like she’s melting. Her long legs spread out and her arms slide off her chest. Her eyes are dead.

Ashel 5 grabs the front of Ursula’s jacket and pulls her up to stare into her face. I try and intuit what our captor will do but her rigid pose gives nothing away. She seems no less crazed; torturing us does not look like it has eased her grief or her rage.

Ashel 5 lets go and Ursula’s head thunks against the floor. Transparent slime oozes off her; I can smell its sour, rancid odour from here. My sister is in an unknowable place and I don’t know how I will get her back.

The structure that holds me is absorbed and I slump into a position where I can no longer see Ursula. Instead, the ceiling opens and the walls lower as the Basis takes them apart. The Blanks disperse without a word but Ashel 5 remains.

As she stares down at me I don’t feel anything except terrible regret. My mouth works but no sound emerges. I wish she would come closer. I use the last of my strength.

“Forgive me,” I say.

“No,” she says and walks away.

22

The painkiller still works but I don’t know how long it will last. I move my head, which rolls to the right like a huge weight barely within my control. I look down the side of my body. Shards of bone poke revoltingly from a burnt-edged hole in the jumpsuit’s right elbow, wet with seeping blood. Hot, sour fluid bubbles in my throat. My eyes flutter.

Time skews slightly…

I look up between two plain square buildings at a great dark vault lit by the glowing vertical line of a train tube. Beyond my splayed feet a sign swings in the middle of a crossroads. Further away a diamond plain extends to an unremarkable entrance through a wall whose height is in shadow.

We are in New Runcton. How very fitting. This is my third visit here and each one has been a disaster. I will
never
come back, providing I live.

Ursula lies motionless nearby, her face turned away. I can’t move my shattered arm and for some reason the other one doesn’t work either. My legs are more responsive so I press my feet against the floor and push myself across it.

“Ursula,” I whisper. “Baby?”

Ursula’s body is a range of soft curves. I manage to get my head onto her shoulder and damp heat rises against my cheek. Her shallow breaths gently lift me up and down as I hear the ooze drip thickly off her, its heartbreakingly strong burnt smell hinting at new and unwelcome otherness.

“Oi oi!”

It’s a male voice, to our left. Footsteps approach: more than two people and less than ten. Perhaps they will help.

“What the
fuck
is this?”

Or perhaps not.

I should be frightened but I haven’t got the strength. Even if I was able-bodied there would be little I could do; with no kilos I can’t fire the n-gun let alone gif a shelter. Ursula is a silent, immovable weight beneath me as the footsteps halt beside us.

“Fresh gash? On a Wednesday? Is this a fucking trap or what?” says a third male voice.

“The little one’s got a fucked up arm.”

“She won’t need her arms,” says a fourth man whose calm voice is nonetheless full of hate.

“Shit! Ain’t that Ursula Freestone?”

“Fuck me it is!”

“She fucking stinks.”

“I got something to wash her with.”

A few barks of insincere laughter peter into silence and then I feel the atmosphere charge with decision. A booted foot shoves me off Ursula. My shoulder cracks against the floor and I hear myself groan. The men around us stare down.

There are five, none of them older than me. They are too well-fed to be subs and their bland faces are vicious with bored resentment. One of them grabs Ursula’s front so her head hangs back, exposing her neck. The man grunts, his eyes cold as he looks up at the others.

“Can we ransom them?”

“Got chucked out didn’t they? No one gives a fuck now.”

“Let’s do this.”

“Here?”

“No, get ‘em inside. We don’t want any interruptions.”

Ursula is dragged away and I hear the juddering squeak of her boots get fainter with distance. A hand grips my ankle with grimly indifferent strength as I’m swung around and pulled across the floor.

My precious sister and I are mere objects now; all we have ever achieved a minor enhancement to the cruel pleasure of strangers. The great space above New Runcton seems to move with me, a mocking reminder of my first time here when I was taken into the air to be loved, or so I thought.

My right arm tingles menacingly each time it bangs against the floor. The resulting bloody spatters make prickles of nausea drop through my gut. Soon the tingling becomes unbearable-

I convulse to a fanfare of agony that explodes out of my elbow as Ashel 5’s painkillers finally wear off. The pain is so excruciating it chokes my scream and the light around me seems to become blindingly intense.

“Don’t worry Charity,” the man says as he drags me, “I’ll give you something to take your mind off it.”

I try to stay silent but instead of willpower there’s just dreadful numb hysteria and I moan through clamped lips. Bitter, useless tears are acid in my broken cheek.

I’m hauled inside a building, glimpsing plastic table legs and a stained cardboard chair on its side. Both pieces of furniture are kicked away to clatter out of sight against the walls. I want the pain from being dragged to end but I’m terrified of what will happen when they get me where they want me.

We reach the wall furthest from the door. The man swivels me around again so my head faces the wall and lets go of my foot. I try and stop it hitting the floor but strain causes more agony in my elbow. Clamping my teeth together I manage to slowly turn my head.

Ursula lies on the floor to my left but I hardly recognise her. She has always been so funny, so alive but now her face is rigid with shock. Her skin shines as her poor confused body tries to cool a heat that was never there. Her eyes do not register me.

A door grows to seal us in with the five men. They hesitate for a moment as if unsure how to proceed and then one leans down to pull at Ursula’s top. Another joins in; the top is ripped off and hurled away. The men crouch beside Ursula and fondle her breasts. One man grips Ursula’s hair and licks her face. Two others pull Ursula’s trousers down, which snag on her boots. The men punch Ursula’s legs furiously in frustration as if it is Ursula’s fault. Afterwards they yank the boots and trousers off together.

One man is left out. He’s not the smallest but he seems to lack even more than the others. His face twists in frustration as he looks down at Ursula. Then he looks over at me.

The other four walk out of their clothes, which remain standing as if worn by invisible men and make the room seem even more crowded. Two of the men are already erect. One gets on his knees and shoves Ursula’s legs apart; another crouches by her head.

The man looking at me walks over. He kneels down and tears at my jumpsuit.

“Fuck,” he spits.

The man between Ursula’s legs hesitates, his cock poised.

“For shit’s sake, what is it?”

“This slag has got armour on.”

“Just wait can’t you?”

“No!”

“I swear I’m going to… Rompy! Don’t you get in her mouth before I’ve… Honestly, I fucking…”

His words break into grunts of rage. He gets up, snatches a small cylindrical device from the pocket of his clothes and throws it at the man beside me. It bounces off his chest onto the floor; he scrabbles the device up and jabs it into my shoulder. There’s a snap and my jumpsuit becomes much lighter.

“Killed it,” he says happily, as if this is the one success he’s managed all day.

I kick at him; he punches me in the mouth and my lip suddenly expands. It’s nothing beside the almost deafening torment in my elbow, which is so powerful that every few seconds it blinds me although sadly not for long.

He grabs the front of my jumpsuit and tears it open. My shoulders hit the floor one after the other as I’m jerked from side to side. I scream as the impact jolts my elbow; he ignores me and doesn’t even pause. I try to pee so he won’t want me but I can’t. My legs twitch in panic; I want to throw up but nothing comes. He knows I can’t move so he takes his time.

My mind tries to outrun the horror but every loathsome detail is too clear. There is a rash on his neck and his breath smells rotten. In the background I hear the others breathe too, some louder, some faster. One man inhales through his nose with a faint rattle of dry snot; another clears his throat and then does it again. Someone’s knee clicks.

They shift around and close in on Ursula. There is a vile efficiency to the dreadful unthinking movement, which is accompanied by wet sounds and grunting. All I can see of my sister now is her left arm, which jerks back and forth, the hand flopping. Please let her stay unconscious, please…

Their lust is contemptibly small and ordinary for something so destructive. They don’t appreciate the value of the person they are violating; someone who loves Ursula should be holding her, touching her. The unfairness and waste are unbearable, the damage hideous. It’s nearly impossible to feel any emotion; just deep, silent rage like the beginning of a devastating illness.

The one on me is not in yet; he seems to like the delay as if feeding off the trauma of it. He stares into my eyes, his expression almost as dead as Ursula’s but energised by awful determination.

Suddenly his gaze darts to the right. All movement stops and the room falls silent.

“What was that?” one of the men who squats over Ursula says.

An explosion outside shakes the building. The man on me grabs my throat as if to hold me in place.

“Fuck or fight?” he snarls at the others.

“Fuck,” comes the reply.

He smiles down at me and tries to shove it in. I jerk my hips and he misses. He tries again.

“Don’t you struggle,” he says, more excited than angry.

There’s another explosion, this one nearer. From the other side of the room the sounds of friction and mean enjoyment intensify. I suspect the men want to finish before they are interrupted.

A third explosion sounds like it’s demolished the building next door.

“I’m suiting up,” one of the men raping Ursula says.

There is a general murmur of assent. The man on me watches them and his lip curls into a sneer.

“Pricks,” he says.

He thrusts at me again. From somewhere I find incredible strength and kick him so hard in the balls his breath stops. I nearly pass out with the effort; his groan is a faraway sound and I barely notice him slump against me. For a moment I feel like I’m drowning in air.

We recover at the same time with the unwanted synchronicity between victim and perpetrator and he looks up, his entire body puce with rage. He grips my right elbow and squeezes. A huge scream rips out of me and I throw my head back so hard I hit the back of it against the floor. He laughs. I slump back with nothing left except grief…

The wall with the door bursts inwards. The man rolls off me and jumps up. A tall figure in the smoke emits a red beam from one hand that knocks my attacker off his feet. He hits the floor to my left with a slap of flesh and clunk of skull. The remaining four men rush at the intruder but a white flash reduces them to red vapour and flying body parts that crash into the furniture.

The open eyes of the man beside me stare back into mine. I hold his dead gaze. Soon he sinks into the floor and I continue to watch his eyes even though they stare blankly at a point underneath me.

His skin dulls and shifts as the Basis gets to work. Its tiny machines travel into the body from all sides, shunting molecules, spreading them, making the lump of matter light enough to move. There is no gore and no brutality; the man simply expands until he is transparent and then becomes nothing. I wonder who he left his kilos to; if they will care he is gone.

The figure in the smoke resolves into Harlan. He walks over, kneels and gathers me gently.

“My beautiful,” he says.

The darkness of his face engulfs my vision until all I see is him and then nothing.

23

I wake up slowly, wary of that pause where the previous day is forgotten and everything seems all right. Soon the painkillers will wear off and the agony will commence. Soon the sickening assault will begin again. Soon I will start to scream.

I wait. Nothing happens. I let my mind focus along with my eyes. I’m under a soft sheet in a single bed. The room is dimly lit. I move gingerly but there is no warning pain.

I realise I am deliberately breathing shallowly. I inhale; in… in… all the way. I wait again. I breathe out. My memory twitches with snapshots of horror.

Foul breath, dead weight, crashing furniture, crashing limbs… And worst of all Ursula’s hand, jerking helplessly nearby with me unable to save her. I reassure myself that our attackers are all dead but the knowledge doesn’t make me happy so much as sick. I squeeze my eyes shut. Now Ursula writhes on the floor as the Blanks look on and the world ends in my elbow…

I shake my head and check the Aer. For a moment nothing I read makes any sense. I persevere with the familiar ritual and after a while my mind steadies.

I have been unconscious for five days.

I grit my teeth as I stretch my right arm but even in the low light I can see my elbow is healed. No scars, not even a mark show where Ashel 5 shot me. I touch my cheek and that feels fine as well. The swelling, the blood, the acid sting of my tears are all gone.

I hear slow breathing nearby and turn towards a second bed next to mine. I can just make out Ursula lying on her back under another sheet with tubes going into her arms.

Wary of enfeebled limbs I carefully climb out of bed and am surprised to find I stand without trouble. My hair tumbles into my face and I push it away. I expect a lank curtain but it’s glossy and smells sweet. Someone has looked after me.

I lean over Ursula. She is clearly not right. Although the awful frozen expression has gone there is a shocking vacancy to her as if she’s there but not there. The disquiet in me coalesces into a sense of loss so strong I gasp. I don’t know how Ursula will deal with this. I suppose that means I don’t know how I will deal with it either.

I want to get drunk and take drugs and pull men with her. Why did I never do any of those things? Maybe it was because of my precious career, my thwarted journey to perfection. I suspect that’s an excuse however. I think I feared if I misbehaved like Ursula then Mum and Dad wouldn’t want me anymore.

I put my hands to my face and sob, the tears jerking out of me. Soon I have to crouch by Ursula’s bed, rocking on my bare feet until my legs cramp. The tears flow on and on. It helps to lose myself in them, as if I am an Old World engine pumping hot salty water from a dark and terrible well.

Eventually, I just run out of energy. Exhausted, I slowly stand, rubbing my wet face on the sleeve of the gown. I climb into Ursula’s bed and the warm air under the cover is rich with her old familiar smell. I lie pressed against her; I want to hold her but she’s heavy and I’m wary of pulling the tubes out of her arm. Instead I stroke her warm cheek.

“Ursula,” I whisper, “Ursula…”

A door opens and I look across Ursula to see Harlan. He waits in the doorway for a while. I’m not sure what to say. His presence eases me but with it come confusion, questions and remembered fury at the betrayal that seems a long time ago…

“May I come in?” he says.

“Oh. Yes.”

Harlan walks towards me. I realise I’m so pleased to see him I want to smile but all I do is stare. Honestly, a
spy?
For the New Form Enterprise?

He stops by the side of the bed.

“Thank you for saving us-” I begin.

Harlan shakes his head almost angrily. He looks down at Ursula.

“We don’t know why she’s still in a coma,” he says.

“The Blanks made her access a full-on vix link of one of them getting burned alive.”

He looks genuinely shocked, but then he’s very convincing. I sigh.

“Where am I?” I ask.

“With the New Form Enterprise.”

“As a prisoner?”

“No,” he says. “You can leave any time.”

“I suppose you want Centria’s files on the NFE,” I say.

“You don’t have to give me the files if you don’t want to,” he says.

“Come off it Harlan. You didn’t save us just because you like me.”

Our eyes lock. My face feels tight.

“What do you think is happening?” he says finally.

“I think what you did to me was not much better than what those bastards in New Runcton were going to do.”

“You’re alive aren’t you?”

“Only because you want something.”

“You mentioned information about the NFE. You didn’t say what it was. Believe me, that’s not the reason I saved you.”

“You spied on me! You were using me!”

“True,” he says.

“If I’d brought you into Centria would you have killed me?”

“Like I killed you in New Runcton? As I recall I saved you and your sister, who has no value to me or the NFE.”

“I don’t understand.”

“All right,” he says, “I did want you so I could get into Centria and I would have let the rest of the NFE in. But we aren’t killers.”

“What was the Ruby War then?”

“A mistake.”

“I’ll say – you lost!”

“Hmm,” he says, contemplative rather than angry.

The slant of his eyes is perfect, their lashes long…

“Stop looking at me,” I say.

“I like looking at you.”

“Too bad.”

“You’ve got the best hair in Diamond City.”

Oh, that was low; right below the belt, right…
there
….

“I mean it,” I say, slightly out of breath.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because you’re the enemy.”

“How am I the enemy?”

“Because-because I’m from Centria and you’re in the New Form Enterprise.”

“You’re not from Centria,” he says, “not anymore.”

I go to speak and realise there’s nothing to say. I rest my face on Ursula’s chest and hold her tight. It should wake her but she doesn’t move.

Harlan stretches out on my bed. I try and pretend he isn’t there so I can get my thoughts organised.

I realise with sudden clarity that my thoughts are as organised as they’re ever likely to be. I’m recovering from something. I’m in trouble that remains stubbornly undefined. I love Ursula. I want Harlan. Things will probably always be like this.

I let go of Ursula and climb out of her bed, then walk over to Harlan and kneel on the floor beside him.

“Whenever I’m with you I just want to be stupid,” I say.

“Good,” he says. “You could do with more stupid in your life.”

I get up the mission files, take a breath and then send them to him.

“Thank you,” he says.

He rolls over onto his elbow and looks into my eyes.

“Check your Aerac,” he says.

My Aerac still reads 0. Harlan’s name appears in the sender field and my account level increases to 50,000 kilos.

“How rich are you?” I say.

“Very.”

“Thank you,” I say, hesitant.

He laughs.

“Stop thinking!” he says.

“I can’t help it,” I say.

I transfer half the kilos to Ursula for when she wakes up.

“It’s fine,” Harlan says, “but you think about things that don’t need to be thought about.”

I go to disagree but can’t because his lips are on mine. Unexpectedly, every sense floods to my mouth. The smooth floor under my knees, the gown’s rustle against my skin and even the weight of my hair become delightful, overwhelming.

I feel desperately triumphant. My just-liberated sexuality has not been destroyed. If that is intact perhaps everything else is too. I let the sensations rise and envelop me, a delirium sweetened by recollected trauma as if in reaction against it…

Harlan pulls away. He swings his legs off the bed and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Jaeger wants to see you,” he says.