The Supernaturalist (14 page)

Finally Stefan called everyone together after a trip to
see his mother’s ashes. He had visited her almost every day since the meeting with Ellen Faustino. More than ever now, he missed her strength and guidance.

‘I’ve been thinking about all this,’ he said gesturing at the warehouse and its array of equipment. ‘It’s madness, all of it. What did I think we could do against… nature? Every time we blasted a Parasite, we created a dozen new ones to prey on our kind. How many lives did that cost?’

‘But we have the Energy Pulse now,’ objected Mona. ‘All we need to do is find a nest and we can undo all that.’

‘No, you were right, Mona,’ sighed Stefan. ‘The Parabola never worked. I have no right to put you in danger.’ He paused, looking each one of the group in the eye in turn. There was something big coming. Mona reached across under the table, squeezing Cosmo’s hand. Whatever Stefan said next would affect all of them.

The Supernaturalist leader took a deep breath. ‘I have made a decision. From today on, we’re officially normal people.’

The statement echoed through the warehouse. Normal people? Was there any such thing?

‘You never put me in danger,’ said Cosmo. ‘No one forced me to do anything. I did what I thought was right. All you did for me was save my life.’

‘Me too,’ said Mona. ‘If it hadn’t been for the Supernaturalists, I’d be an oil slick by the side of a racetrack somewhere.’

Stefan shook his head. ‘The time has come for me to
wake up. My mother has gone, I have to accept that.’

Mona jumped to her feet. ‘We can’t just give in, Stefan! You know what our destiny is. We fight these things until we can’t fight any more. Tell him, Ditto.’

The Bartoli Baby’s eyes were downcast.

‘Maybe the boss is right,’ he said. ‘Maybe we should call it a day.’

Mona threw her hands in the air. ‘I don’t believe this. One operation goes bad and everybody falls apart.’

Ditto lit a sim-cig. ‘Falls apart? That’s not it, Mona. That’s not it at all. We gave it our best shot, but it’s like trying to mop up the ocean with a tissue. Who says we can’t be happy like ordinary people for a while?’

Mona’s face was red with anger. ‘Normal people are being sucked dry by these creatures, only they don’t know it. You want to watch and do nothing while the Parasites go about their business?’

Stefan caught Mona gently by the shoulders.

‘It’s not what I want. But we’re beaten. We’re a bunch of kids. What can we do?’

‘Myishi are with us now,’ whispered Mona. ‘We have the Energy Pulse and the Parabola.’

‘It doesn’t work. It’s never worked. It took me a long time to see it, but I see now.’

‘A pity about that Parabola,’ said Cosmo thoughtfully, almost to himself.

Mona turned from Stefan. ‘What do you mean, Cosmo?’

‘Something Professor Faustino said. The Parasites often feed on electrical energy. I bet if we found energy leaks, we’d find Parasites.’ He rested his chin on one hand. ‘If only we had a bigger dish.’

Mona ran to the nearest window, tearing back the heavy curtains.

‘Myishi have a pretty big dish,’ she said, pointing to the stars. ‘One more shot, Stefan. One more try.’

Stefan’s resignation cracked like a mudpack, revealing the old determination underneath.

‘Ditto,’ he said. ‘Where’s my phone?’

Stefan couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

‘Professor Faustino. All I’m asking for is a data port on the Satellite. One plug-in, what can that hurt?’

Faustino’s face was grim on the phone screen. ‘The Satellite is off-limits, Stefan, even to me. I’m only president of research. I couldn’t get a job scrubbing the floor on the Satellite.’

The phone’s handset almost cracked in Stefan’s hand.

‘Fine, you run the scan. A concentration of energy leaks in the city centre, that’s all I’m looking for.’

Faustino consulted a digital diary on her desk. ‘That’s a much better idea. I can get a slot in a couple of months.’

‘A couple of months! Do you have any idea how many people will be sucked dry in a couple of months?’

‘I can’t help it,’ protested Ellen, swivelling her digital
diary so Stefan could see the screen. ‘Look at the clients we have waiting: Nike, Disney, Krom. The Satellite costs millions per uplink. Do you realize the advertising power of a single broadcast? There’s a five-year waiting list for Satellite time. A couple of months is the absolute earliest I can get in, and even then I’ll be calling in every favour I’m owed.’

Stefan struggled to stay calm. ‘How am I supposed to deploy your Energy Pulse, if I can’t locate the Parasites?’

Faustino was unfazed. ‘Stefan, this entire operation is clandestine. Un-Spec 4 does not exist. Neither does the modified Energy Pulse. Neither, for that matter, do you or your vigilante band. What do you want me to do? Go to Head Office with a story about spooky blue creatures that are scrubbing energy?’

‘No,’ admitted Stefan, scowling into the phone’s screen. ‘I suppose not. But what do you want
me
to do?’

‘I want you to find another way,’ said Ellen Faustino.

Stefan closed the handset.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I will.’

Stalls sprang up along the side of the road like magicians’ tables. African tailors rubbed elbows with Oriental hackers and European shoemakers. Trade was brisk and haggling was lively.

Cosmo watched the world go by from his seat in the Pigmobile.

‘It’s not a bad place to live.’

‘In the daytime,’ said Stefan. ‘And it will be a lot better if Professor Faustino can get her welfare grants back online.’

Ditto was checking his chin in a small mirror. Hoping for some bristles. ‘Sure. Which is why we’re doing this behind her back.’

‘Professor Faustino is on the inside,’ said Stefan. ‘She has to follow the rules; we don’t. If the Supernaturalists can take care of the Parasite problem, the Satellite stabilizes and the welfare grants will flow. Everybody’s happy.’

‘Especially Myishi,’ said Ditto, pocketing the mirror. ‘I think it’s very nice of us to do their job for them, especially since they’ve been trying to kill us for years.’

Mona yelled back from the driving seat. ‘Do you have any better ideas, Ditto? Do you?’ She gave him a full five seconds to reply. ‘No? I thought not.’

‘I never do. It’s just healthy scepticism,’ said the Bartoli Baby. ‘We can’t all be sheep. This entire situation stinks. Suddenly we’re working for the corporations. I don’t like it.’

‘I don’t like it much either,’ said Stefan, ‘but Professor Faustino is my friend first, and corporation second. We can trust her.’

‘Are you sure? Would you bet all our lives on it?’

‘The only life I’m betting on in future is my own. Once we track the Parasites to their lair, I’ll be the one setting the Energy Pulse. From today on, you kids are computer jockeys.’

Mona nearly crashed the Pigmobile. ‘Kids? Who are you calling a kid? You’re only a couple of years older than us. If I’m old enough to run around rooftops, I’m old enough to set Energy Pulses. I’m not here to watch things on a monitor.’

‘You will be involved, from a safe distance. And if you don’t like the new arrangement, stop the van and get out. I’m sure the Sweethearts would be really happy to welcome you back.’

Mona jammed her foot on the accelerator. ‘You know something, Stefan, sometimes you can be a real pig.’

They drove for over three hours until the Pigmobile was skirting Satellite City’s ring road. Next stop, the desert. Cosmo could see the end of the city and it fascinated him. There was an end to the city? For some reason, he had always imagined the entire city to be a
giant prison. And even if you did leave, how did people survive out here in the countryside?

This was not like the countryside you saw in old vids. There were no horses galloping in slow motion, and no swings hanging from the trees. In fact there weren’t many trees. Most plant life this close to the city had been killed off by chemical smog or factory overspill.

Here, the people existed outside the Satellite’s footprint and free from its influences. Most of the inhabitants lived in small one-storey dwellings cobbled together from whatever material was likely to stay upright for the longest time. To Cosmo, the houses seemed wildly exotic. After a lifetime of pig iron, it was refreshing to see walls constructed from reinforced highway bridges, and roofs made from old billboards.

Ditto shuddered. ‘This place gives me the creeps. You know they don’t have Satellite TV here. Some houses only have ten or fifteen pirate stations. What do they do all day?’

‘Stay alive,’ said Stefan, pointing at a mountain of junk in the distance. ‘Over there, Mona. That’s where we’re going.’

As they drew closer, Cosmo realized that the junk mountain was actually a fenced-in yard filled to overflowing with discarded rubbish from the city. Two armed guards stood in the shade of a covered tower, their weapons as ancient as everything they were guarding.

Mona stopped the Pigmobile before decorated iron
gates that had, in a previous life, been the entrance to a theme park ride called Dino Doom.

Stefan opened the side door, stepping into the heat and dust. There were two rifles trained on him from above.

‘You’d better keep on truckin’, kid,’ said one of the guards. An emaciated specimen with no more than three teeth. ‘Lessen you got sumfin’ worth tradin’. Never mind whut the gate says, this ain’t no fun park.’

‘Shut up and listen,’ said Stefan with his usual tact. ‘I need to see Lincoln. Tell him it’s Bashkir. And if this gate is not open in two minutes then I’m holding you responsible.’

The guard thought about arguing, until Stefan glanced pointedly at his watch. Then he decided to go and get Lincoln. If this tall youth wanted someone to be mad at, the guard would prefer that it wasn’t him. There was something about those piercing eyes and the twisted scar stretching his mouth.

The second guard spat after his workmate.

‘Run like a rabbit, chicken boy. You ain’t got the spine of a lugworm.’ Obviously the man was fond of animal imagery.

Stefan climbed back into the car. ‘I think we’re in.’

‘Must be your charming personality,’ said Mona, still sore over the
Stop the van and get out
comment.

‘Now when we get in there, I want everybody to be extremely careful. Did you ever see those movies about
the Wild West, where gunfights get started over the least little thing.’

Cosmo nodded.

‘Well the Junkyard is like that, except with real bullets. Ditto, you’re a kid until I say so.’

Ditto groaned. ‘Aw, Stefan. I hate being a kid.’

‘We might need an ace up our sleeves. You’re it.’

Considerably less than two minutes later the Dino gates swung open, manned on each side by one of the strange guards. Seen at close range, Cosmo realized that the men were much better seen at a distance.

‘Bring that sucker in, Mistuh
Bashkeer.
Park ’er in front of the lobby.’

‘Whooeee,’ said the other. ‘You sure are one hog-ugly critter.’

Cosmo didn’t know if the man was talking to the Pigmobile or his own reflection. Then again, he was in no position to sneer at other people. His own head was no oil painting since Ditto had patched it up, although at least now there was some stubble to cover the lumps.

Mona steered through an assault course of automobile skeletons, parking in front of a porch constructed from rusting satellite dishes. The lobby, apparently.

‘Remember,’ said Stefan to Ditto, ‘act immature.’

Mona laughed. ‘Act? Just be yourself, Ditto. Nobody will notice the difference.’

The ugly twins escorted them through a curtain of nuts and bolts threaded on to copper wire. Inside was even
dirtier than outside. Every inch of surface was coated with a pungent mixture of oil, dirt and rust. Millions of rust mites flourished in the ceiling, their activities sending rust flakes fluttering down like robot moths.

Behind a desk constructed from storage pallets sat a man, clearly at ease in the filth. His feet were propped on the desk, bare toes being licked by an obese ginger cat.

‘Nice cat,’ noted Stefan. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Camouflage,’ answered the man. ‘When this cat shuts his eyes, you couldn’t find him in here with a pack of bloodhounds.’

Stefan swiped the man’s feet from the desk, sitting opposite him. The cat hissed, running along the man’s leg to his stomach.

‘I see you don’t believe in manners.’

‘Manners won’t buy you much in the Big Pig or beyond it, Lincoln.’

Lincoln’s face was gaunt with bags under his eyes, like melted flesh. He could have been any age and of any race, though his accent was decidedly upper class. He wore a three-piece, pin-striped suit; unfortunately it was at least twenty years old.

‘You know my name, boy, but I don’t know who you are. You used the name of a friend of mine to get in here, but you are certainly not Doctor Aeriel Bashkir.’

‘I’m her son, Stefan. She told me about you.’

Lincoln studied him for a moment. ‘Yes, you have her eyes. How is your mother?’

Stefan dropped his gaze. ‘She died. Three years ago.’

Lincoln was silent for several moments. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. She was a good woman.’

‘She was. From what she told me, you owe her a favour.’

Lincoln laughed. His teeth were the same colour as the rest of him. ‘Perhaps. But I certainly don’t owe
you
any favours, dear boy. Favours are non-transferable.’

Stefan put his elbows on the desk. ‘Lincoln, five years ago my mother travelled out of the city and took out your ruptured appendix. No other doctor in the city would have done that. While she was here, she saw a HALO going up. She told me all about it. We both know that you’re the pirate who has been sending up illegal HALOs for years, without any permits, safety or otherwise. One call from me and the Myishi privates would be cutting this place into cubes with space lasers. And the ugly twins here would be absolutely no help.’

Lincoln was unimpressed. ‘You’ve met Floyd and Bruce. They’re my boys. I took them in off the street when they were barely out of nappies. I believe they were twenty-six at the time. Stupid as rocks, poor fellows, but they certainly can shoot. As a matter of fact they have big old bolt guns pointed at your head right now.’

‘Oh really?’ said Stefan. ‘Well, I’d advise them to look down.’

‘Look down?’ said Floyd. ‘You wouldn’t be tryin’ to take our eyes offa the target, would you?’

‘You must think we were born last Tuesday,’ added Bruce, his voice whistling slightly through the gaps in his teeth. ‘We got you all covered. You and the two juvies.’

‘What about the baby?’ asked Stefan.

Floyd snickered. ‘What about him. What’s he gonna do? Spit up all over us?’

Floyd and Bruce felt two lightning rods being jammed painfully into their kneecaps. Ditto was grinning up at them. ‘You’re the ones who’ll be spitting up, if I empty a full charge into you.’

Lincoln had to laugh. ‘Bartoli?’

Ditto nodded. ‘One of the last.’

‘OK, dimwits,’ said Lincoln. ‘Put away the bolt guns before the little one makes your hair curl.’

Floyd and Bruce did what they were told grudgingly.

‘A genuine Bartoli,’ said Lincoln. ‘What are your mutes?’

Ditto scowled. ‘I prefer the term special talents.’

‘Mutations, special talents, whatever term you wish. What can you do?’

‘I’m the medic in our group.’

‘Healing hands. I’ve heard of that. Are you sensitive too?’

‘To what?’

‘The spirit world. The TV scientists say that Bartoli woke parts of the brain that have lain dormant for millennia.’

‘I know what the brainers say,’ snapped Ditto with
unusual ferocity. ‘No, I’m not sensitive. Good looks, that’s it.’

Lincoln lay back in his threadbare chair. ‘It looks like you got the drop on me, Stefan. So let’s get down to business. What can I do for you?’

‘I need a High Altitude Low Orbit ship,’ said Stefan bluntly.

Lincoln laughed. Rust flakes fluttered from the creases in his face.

‘A HALO, just like that. No
schmoozing
first?’

‘I don’t have time for schmoozing. I need a HALO now. Today.’

‘What would I be doing with a HALO? That would be illegal. I’d have public and private police trying to lock me up. Your mother must have been mistaken. A desert hallucination, perhaps.’

Stefan brought his fist down on the desk. ‘My mother was a spaceship nut. It was her hobby. She used to bring me down to the Cape to watch the rockets take off. She knew every model ever made. She was not mistaken. You’re the space pirate the privates are all looking for.’

‘And if I am?’ said Lincoln. ‘Not that I’m admitting anything mind. Who else would clean up space? Who else would salvage all those junked satellites? In my humble opinion, whoever is sending up those rogue HALOs is doing the Earth a favour. The world’s first cosmic trashman. The occasional pirate TV broadcast is a small price to pay for clean space.’

‘Yeah, yeah, you deserve a medal. Now where’s the ship?’

Lincoln’s face was suddenly deadly serious. ‘Why would I give a ship to you people? A bunch of children? You’re not old enough to drive that heap of junk outside, not to mention a HALO.’

‘You grow up quickly in the Big Pig,’ retorted Stefan bitterly. ‘We’ve survived on our own for years. The only thing adults have done for us in the recent past is try to kill us. You can program the HALO from here. She’ll go up and back without us having to touch an instrument. All we want to do is be on board.’

‘You still haven’t told me why I would want to give you my ship, if I had one. What’s in it for me?’

Stefan drew a computer panel wallet from inside his coat. He laid it on the table.

‘And what is that?’ asked Lincoln, trying to appear disinterested. ‘The latest 3D video game?’

‘No, Lincoln, it’s a piggyback panel. With a Lockheed Martin solar panel face and a two million gigabyte memory capacity. I acquired it recently from a friend.’

Lincoln nudged the panel. ‘Piggyback panel. Oh, really. What’s on the memory?’

‘Nothing at the moment. Plenty of memory there to run a pirate TV station.’

Lincoln weighed the panel on his palm. ‘In theory. But you need a big dish to hook into.’

‘We have a dish. The biggest.’

‘Don’t kid a kidder, Stefan. Nobody gets near the Satellite without corporate access codes. You go within a kilometre without codes and they blast you into space.’

Stefan slid the panel inside his pocket. ‘You leave the codes to me. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Lincoln. I can hook you up with a panel on the Satellite. You’ll be broadcasting for months before they trace it.’

Lincoln scratched a clean patch on his chin. ‘And all I have to do is?’

‘Give me the starter card for the HALO I know you have parked out the back.’

‘Two million gigabytes, you say?’

‘All yours. I give you a link-up chip and you’re set.’

Lincoln was sold, but he fought against it. ‘You know how much one of those ships costs, Stefan?’

‘About one tenth of what you’ll make from the independent TV companies.’

‘This could all be lies, Stefan. Maybe you just need my ship and you don’t have any codes.’

Stefan’s glare cut through the particle-heavy air. ‘You have my word, Lincoln. I swear it on my mother’s soul.’