The Abyss Beyond Dreams (83 page)

‘You think they came over the river as well?’

‘And not long after that, the Goleford bridge was blown.’

‘But Coulan was in the National Council building when that happened,’ Javier insisted.

‘Yes. So he’s stuck here as well, unless . . . You’re in charge of the railways now, right?’

‘Well, sort of, yes.’

‘Did you get around to nationalizing the Southern City Line?’

‘Yes. My people came across to take over the management offices yesterday. I was going to visit soon.’

‘They only blew up the Goleford bridge,’ Bethaneve said. ‘We planned on taking out three south of the river. Can you ’path your people, find out what other rail lines
there are out of town?’

‘That I can do.’

The answer came back within a minute.

‘There are two local line stations,’ Javier said, his eyes closed as he received the ’path. ‘Balcome and Scotdale. Their lines go east and west.’

‘Right, now find out if either of those lines cross the Goleford. Do they link up with the main line south of here?’

Javier’s weary face broke into a slow smile. ‘Uracus, you’re good. The line from Balcome splits fifty miles out, and one track goes south. It reconnects with the main southern
line at Fosbury.’

‘Next train?’ Bethaneve asked.

‘Twenty-three minutes.’

*

Balcome station was small: two platforms, both with prim wooden canopies, and a stone ticket office. A typical branch-line station in a pleasant part of town. Thick vines with
topaz flowers scrambled up the outside wall of the ticket office, layering the air with a sweet scent. There was nobody in the ticket office when Bethaneve and Javier walked in; thick shutters were
down across the booth. The platform was a different matter. In the deepening shadow thrown by the canopy, people were packed five or six deep along its whole length, families clinging together,
children all cried out and now just staring numbly down the tracks. Those nearest the ticket office door gave Javier a fearful look as he emerged. He’d not given it any thought, but his
carbine was slung on a strap over his drosilk jacket’s shoulder, and four magazines were clipped to his belt. Carrying it openly was second nature now, every comrade’s badge of honour.
The carbines Nigel supplied were quite distinctive; they had a high fire rate and hardly ever jammed. By now they were recognizable to everybody in Varlan.

The gifted image of Javier spread down the platform faster than sound. It triggered a surge of anxiety and distress. Children clung to their parents; men glared defiantly.

Bethaneve’s hand went automatically to the pistol holstered on her belt. She was dismayed by the way people were reacting to her and Javier, but anger burnt there, too.
We’re the
good guys. Why don’t you understand that? We’re trying to help, to give you a better future
.

‘What do you want?’ someone ’pathed.

‘Can’t you leave us alone?’

‘Haven’t you killed enough of us?’

‘Savages.’

‘They murdered my brother. He was a sheriff, he protected us from criminals.’

‘I recognize her. She’s Slvasta’s fiancée.’

‘Bitch.’

People were backing away from them, leaving them alone in the centre of a deluge of hatred.

‘We’re not here to hurt you,’ Bethaneve ’pathed. ‘We’re looking for someone.’ She gifted an image of Coulan. ‘Has anyone seen him?’

‘No!’

‘What did he ever do?’

‘Gave people jobs, most likely.’

‘Are you going to murder him, as well?’

‘Please,’ Bethaneve ’pathed. ‘He’s a friend.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Lying whore.’

Teekay stabbed out. Bethaneve’s shell was tight; otherwise the spike of psychic power would have jabbed into her eyes. As it was, she stumbled backwards from the blow.

‘Hey!’ Javier yelled. He lifted up the carbine. ‘Pack that in. We’re here on official business.’

‘You’re not my government, crudhead.’

‘Who voted for you?’

Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle sounded.

Several teekay blows slapped at Javier. He rocked about, then flicked the safety catch off. ‘Draw your pistol,’ he private ’pathed Bethaneve. ‘This might get
nasty.’

Reluctantly, she did as he advised.

‘Going to shoot us for objecting?’

‘So we’re not allowed opinions any more?’

Javier pointed his carbine into the air and fired off two shots. Children screamed. Everybody cowered. They backed away further.

‘I’m going to politely ask you one last time,’ Javier said. ‘Has anyone seen this man?’ He ’pathed out the image of Coulan as hard as he could.

Bethaneve stared round at the faces, disturbed by the naked outpouring of loathing. Vile images were starting to flicker through the general psychic torrent, images of her being abused, graphic
fantasies of Javier being kicked, punched, beaten, a noose round his neck. She gripped the pistol tighter, wondering how everything had turned so wrong so quickly.

The train whistle sounded again, louder this time.

Then amid all the hostility, a few glimmers of smugness appeared. She saw nearby faces beginning to smile haughtily. People directed their gaze behind her. Silence spread out so fast she thought
she’d lost her hearing.

‘Please don’t move, my loves.’ The ’path was so kind, so sincere, it resonated right into the centre of her mind as if she had no shell at all. She was so thrilled to
perceive it; she did exactly what it asked.

Coulan walked between her and Javier. Her heart began to beat faster at the sight of him; the relief that he was all right was profound. She smiled in welcome.

He smiled back, which made her want to fling her arms round him in happiness. But he had asked her not to move, so she didn’t.

‘I don’t want you to worry about me,’ he said as the train started to ease into the station. ‘Everything is going to be just fine, I promise. Now I have to go away for a
week or so, then I’ll be back, and it will be a whole new life for everyone on Bienvenido. You’ll see.’

Bethaneve sighed in delight. He was okay, and the world was going to be all right now.

The engine rolled past, pistons hammering away, gusts of steam shooting out horizontally from valves to swirl across the platform, thick smoke puffing from the stack. It pulled five carriages
along behind it.

‘Everybody,’ Coulan said, and raised both arms in universal appeal, ‘the train is here. Let’s get on board, shall we? No need for any unpleasantness. These well-meaning
people aren’t going to hurt anybody.’

Bethaneve could see Javier standing beside her, his face sculpted into a mask of despondent longing.

Then the crowd was pouring into the carriages. Bethaneve didn’t mind. Coulan was all right; nothing else mattered. And she was helping him enormously by just staying still.

Coulan gave Javier a small lopsided grin. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he promised, and kissed Javier gently. Turned and began walking towards the train.

The carbine’s roar was as loud as it was shockingly unexpected. It broke Bethaneve’s trance, and she flung herself down, screaming as she jammed her hands over her ears. Right in
front of her, not four metres away, Coulan’s buttocks and lower torso disintegrated into a mass of tattered flesh and an expanding blood spume. His abdomen exploded outwards, tendrils of gore
thrashing through the ripped shirt. The body collapsed onto the platform, pitching over so his head was facing up. Dying eyes stared peacefully at the twilight sky, then closed.

Bethaneve seemed to be deaf. Her eyesight contracted into a long grey tunnel with Coulan’s corpse blocking the far end. That was all there was.

Sound forced its way back into her consciousness. Screams, so many screams, and so loud that her shock couldn’t deny them any more. Her own voice was one of them. He was dead, her old
love, her saviour. Dead. Cut down by—

Bethaneve jerked round. Slvasta was standing just outside the ticket office door, Tovakar and Yannrith and Andricea clustered behind him, more armed comrades in the background. Slvasta ejected
the magazine clip from his still-smoking carbine, and his teekay jammed in a replacement.

‘What have you
done
?’ Bethaneve wailed.

Javier charged past her, his face contorted with rage, arms outstretched as he reached for Slvasta, roaring in demented fury. Andricea stepped forward, caught Javier’s wrist. There was
some kind of lithe twisting motion as she shifted her weight round, thrust with her teekay, bent sideways – and Javier’s entire bulky form was somehow flying through the air. He crashed
to the ground with a hefty thud, winding him. Tovakar was immediately beside him, pistol pressed against his temple. ‘Don’t!’ he warned.

Slvasta came over to stand beside Bethaneve, looking down at her, his features completely blank. ‘Why didn’t you move? Why didn’t you stop him? You followed him here, you
wanted to talk to him just as badly as I did. Why didn’t you ask him something? Anything?’

She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. He . . . he told me not to and I couldn’t.’ She wiped at the tears on her cheeks. ‘I knew I should, I just didn’t want to.
What did he do to me?’ she whimpered in panic. ‘Who is he?’

‘I don’t know.’ Slvasta held his hand out to her.

After a second’s hesitation, she reached up and took it. He helped her to her feet. She stood, wobbling about slightly, then risked a glance at the corpse. There was so much blood, all of
it a rich crimson, spreading out obscenely across the platform.

Slvasta turned to Javier. ‘It wasn’t human,’ he said. ‘Do you understand? This is a new kind of Faller, him and Nigel.’

A frightened Javier stared up mutely.

There was something very wrong about Coulan’s corpse. Bethaneve couldn’t quite work out what, but instinct was shrieking a warning directly out of her subconscious. Was it his soul,
was she perceiving that? She extended her ex-sight to the air above the body. ‘Slvasta!’ She stumbled back a pace, pressing herself into Slvasta’s side.

‘What?’

‘He’s still got a shell round his thoughts.’

‘Huh?’

Everyone swung round to look at Coulan. Yannrith and Tovakar lined their carbines up, as did most of Slvasta’s bodyguard troop.

‘His crudding shell,’ Bethaneve yelped. ‘It’s still there!’

Slvasta edged closer.

Coulan’s eyes snapped open.

Bethaneve’s mouth parted wide; an involuntary reflex drew air down her throat in a groan.

‘That was an excellent fuzz,’ Coulan ’pathed. ‘As good as my concealment effect. I never perceived you coming. Well done.’

‘Faller!’ snarled Slvasta. He took a step forward and jammed his carbine muzzle onto the bridge of Coulan’s nose.

‘Not at all,’ Coulan continued calmly.

‘Then what the crud . . . ?’

‘This life is over. For all of you. We’re going to take you back into the real universe. Put down your guns. Forget your conflict. Everything is about to change.’

‘What are you?’ Slvasta bellowed.

‘I am a machine, a living machine.’

‘You can’t be!’

A man walked over to them. Bethaneve thought she was too numb from everything that had happened to feel anything, but the sight of him made her moan in dismay.

‘What do you want with my family’s quantumbusters?’ Captain Philious demanded.

‘They will be used to liberate you.’ Coulan closed his eyes. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must shut down now. My reserve energy levels can’t sustain me for much longer,
and I have an autonomic destruct sequence – just in case. Please stand back, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.’

‘Did you ever love me?’ Javier sobbed.

‘My dearest Javier, don’t be sad. I am bringing you all back to reality. That is the greatest love of all. I give it to you freely.’

The skin on Coulan’s pale face started to blacken. Slvasta winced and pulled the carbine away, took a couple of hasty steps back. Coulan’s head, torso and legs burst into flames.
They began to burn inwards fiercely, throwing off a great heat. Bethaneve clung to Slvasta, watching aghast as the
thing
she had once loved charred down to a mound of ash in less than
three minutes. She sank to her knees and threw up, too distraught to think straight any more. Nothing made sense. All of this was unreal. It couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t.

‘What do we do now, captain?’ she heard Yannrith asking.

‘He said: we,’ Slvasta growled. ‘
We
are liberating you. There’s more of them loose on our world. And I know where their nest is. So we stop them. Then we kill
them. That is liberation.’

‘These are in worse condition than I thought,’ Nigel said as the express train rattled its way southwards through the night. They were charging through the
scheduled stations; the only stops they did make were to take on fresh coal and water for the engine.

The quantumbusters were riding in one of the passenger carriages that’d been fitted out as a basic machine shop. Kysandra had been moderately impressed by the weapons, even though
she’d already seen the images from the drone in the palace cellar. The wasp-waist cylinders were over two metres long, and heavy with it, as if they were carved from solid metal. Lifting them
had taken a lot of muscle and teekay. Once they were in place, a simple sweep of teekay banished the dust and grime to reveal dull grey casings in good condition. The warheads were nestled at the
back of the bulbous head, which her ex-sight could just perceive through the high-density casing and thick-packed components. But she felt that the rear end with the ingrav drive’s weird
warty protuberances looked more sinister.

Nigel, Fergus and Valeri were scanning the quantumbusters with ex-sight and various sensor modules. Little access hatches of malmetal were being powered up and opened, so more sophisticated
tests could be run directly on the components inside.

‘We don’t need the drive systems, or any of that junk,’ Fergus said. ‘Nor the force fields. Just the warheads.’

‘Warhead,’ Valeri corrected.

‘Can you get one of them to work?’ Kysandra asked.

Nigel looked up from the quantumbuster he was examining. A crown of modules was trailing wires and fibre-optic strands into the open ports and hatches. Spherical power cells on the floor had
been plugged in to various sections with heavy-duty cable.