Xenopath (38 page)

The only thing
to hand was a flower arrangement beside the bunker, which would
hardly double as a cosh.

Be patient,
Sukara.

But he has a
pistol and we have nothing! How will we stop him!

Leave the
logistics to me,
the voice said.
Be ready, that is all I ask
of you.

Sukara smiled.
I'm ready, she thought.

The killer
lounged in the chair and finished the sandwich. She wondered what
kind of person would calmly kill someone, then fix themselves a meal
and sit patiently waiting to kill someone else. And he had killed
others, too, taking the lives of whoever he was paid to kill... She
thought back two years to when she'd shot Osborne. She had had to do
that then, in order to save Jeff's life, but even so she had felt
inescapable waves of guilt in the aftermath. But how could this man
kill and keep on killing people and live with the knowledge that he
had extinguished so many innocent lives?

The thought made
her so angry that, if she were able to, then, she would have shot the
bastard dead without a second thought.

The irony was
not lost on her, and she smiled.

He is
preparing to move to the bathroom,
the voice said.
We must be
ready.

Sukara nodded,
her pulse racing.

The killer stood
and stretched, the pistol in his extended right hand. He turned and
headed for the bathroom door. Sukara watched him through half-closed
eyes.

He stepped from
the lounge, closing the door behind him.

Get up,
commanded the voice.

Sukara moved
from the bunker, amazed at how well she felt, considering that
fifteen minutes ago she had been dead. She crossed the room towards
the bathroom door and paused, looking around.

There,
said the voice.

In a wall recess
stood a metal statuette, an elephant with its trunk raised. She
grabbed the animal by the trunk, surprised at how heavy it was. All
the better, she thought.

She moved to the
bathroom door, beside which stood a tall unit holding glasses and
drinks. Sukara positioned herself on the other side of the unit, so
that it was between herself and the bathroom door.

She should, she
realised, be more frightened than she felt. She was curiously calm.
Are you helping me? she asked.

1 am doing
what is necessary to prevent further deaths,
said the voice.

She wondered if
it said this to lessen her guilt at what she was about to do, and
then she wondered if she would feel any remorse at bludgeoning the
killer.

The bathroom
door opened and the killer stepped into the lounge.

Sukara moved
from behind the unit.

She raised the
statuette above her head, conscious of its heft, the damage it would
do.

At that second,
just as she was about to propel the elephant on its downward swing
towards the blonde head of the killer, he turned, suddenly aware.

She cried out
and swung the statuette.

The blow caught
the side of his forehead. The killer dropped to his knees.

For a fraction
of a second, Sukara hesitated.

Then the thing
in her head took control.

As if watching
the actions of her body from a remove, she was aware of launching
herself towards the killer, striking him again across the side of the
head and then stamping down hard on his wrist as he fell to the
floor.

She wrested the
pistol from his grip and staggered away across the lounge.

She felt the
control of her body return to her as she stood, shaking, facing the
killer as he pulled himself upright.

She levelled the
pistol.

The killer
stared, and understanding came to him. Blood trickled down his face,
and Sukara could not bring herself to feel the slightest compassion.
He reached out, smiling, almost placatory—as if seeking
exoneration for his deeds to date.

Sukara found
herself wanting to ask him how he could take innocent lives and live
with himself, but at the same time all she wanted to do was to pull
the trigger and kill the bastard.

Tell him
,
the voice said,
to deactivate his implant.

Faltering,
Sukara said, "Deactivate your implant!"

The killer
smiled. "What? And let the alien into my head? I'd rather die."

He advanced at
step, a hand outstretched. "I know I can't appeal to the alien,
but you, Sukara, do you know what it is to take a life?"

Sukara managed a
smile. "You tried to kill me, and my baby. You are...
evil.
Don't you think you deserve to die?"

"There is
no such thing as evil," the man said. "Merely those who are
weak, and those who are strong."

Sukara stared at
him through sudden tears. "And I am strong," she said.

The killer
moved, dived towards her, and at that precise second Sukara blacked
out.

HOMECOMING

Vaughan stood in
the observation nacelle as
The Spirit of Olympus
materialised
over the Bay of Bengal.

His relief at
having escaped Mallory in one piece had soon turned to frustration.
For two days he had slept, stared out into the grey of voidspace, or
read in a bid to occupy his thoughts.

As soon as he
reached the Station he would contact Kapinsky, bring her up to date
on events on Mallory, and together they would attempt to locate the
street-kid, Pham.

The ship
stuttered from voidspace. Ahead, rising from the calm blue waters of
the ocean, as solid as an anvil, was Bengal Station. Vaughan felt an
odd sense of homecoming.

As the ship
approached, he looked along the sheer, kilometre-high western facade
of the Station, trying to pinpoint the long viewscreen of his
apartment. He thought he saw it—a tiny silver lozenge among
thousands of others, and wondered what Sukara would be doing there.
It was seven in the morning, Indian time, and Su would be getting up
and fixing breakfast. He smiled as he considered the look on her face
in an hour or so when he walked through the door.

The ship slowed
and came in over the edge of the Station. Down below he made out
Himachal Park, reduced to the size of an architect's model, with
early risers out for a morning stroll. The spaceport was as busy as
ever, with ships arriving and departing in a constant flow.
The
Spirit of Olympus
decelerated, inching towards a docking ring and
finally connecting with a peal that reverberated throughout the
length of the ship.

Vaughan
shouldered his holdall and made for the exit. As he shuffled from the
vessel, a 'port security team boarded, the telepaths amongst them
scanning the minds of the alighting passengers.

At customs he
made for the Station Nationals channel, showed his ID to a tired
officer, and stepped out onto the vast floor of the arrivals
terminal. He paused to tap Kapinsky's code into his handset.

Her sharp face
appeared after a long delay. She looked tired. "Vaughan. I was
trying to get some sleep."

"It's eight
in the morning, Kapinsky."

"I just got
back from India. I'm beat."

"Okay, but
we need to meet. I've learned a lot. I'm seeing Sukara for an hour or
two, but I'll be at the office around midday, okay?"

Kapinsky nodded.
"I need my beauty sleep, Vaughan. But okay, I'll see you then."

He decided to
walk home. It would take about ten minutes. The alternative, a train
to the nearest 'chute station, would take longer at this time of day.

He shouldered
his holdall and set off for the exit. Later he'd try to work out with
Kapinsky how to go about locating the street-kid, Pham. Of course,
there was always the possibility that the killer had found her while
he'd been away, in which case they would face the almost impossible
task of trying to work out where the Hortavan might have transmitted
itself to—always supposing that there had been an unshielded
mind in the vicinity when its host was killed.

Vaughan tried
not to think about that.

He was about to
step through the exit when he heard a small voice behind him.

"Mr
Vaughan! Mr Vaughan!"

He turned.

A skinny Thai
waif in a Tigers' T-shirt and baggy red shorts smiled timorously at
him. "Mr Vaughan! Khar said that I had to find you. He said that
he would help you."

"Pham?"
he said, incredulous.

She nodded, her
big eyes wide beneath her jet fringe. "Khar said I shouldn't go
back to your apartment. He said I'd be in danger. I had to come here,
find you."

Vaughan shook
his head, trying to take in her words. "Khar is...?" he
began, then tapped the code into his handset and activated his
implant.

Her small mind
flared, along with the background mind-noise of a thousand other
citizens, and Vaughan concentrated. The Hortavan xenopath, Khar, had
ridden her mind until a day ago. After that, she'd had no contact
with it.

Yesterday the
Hortavan had warned her against entering the apartment, where for the
past five days she'd lived with Sukara.

Alarm hit him
with a sickening rush. He took her hand. "Come with me!"

"Ah-cha."

He hurried from
the 'port, the little girl running at his side in order to keep up.
The contents of her mind filled his, her thoughts and emotions,
dreams and desires. Dominant in her mind was how wonderful the past
few days had been, living in the plush apartment with Sukara. Vaughan
found himself holding back tears. He scanned for the alien in her
mind, but found nothing.

He shut down his
implant as they headed for the nearest 'chute station.

"The alien
in your mind, Pham—has it left?"

She looked up at
him as she jogged along. "Khar has gone?"

"You didn't
know?"

"I thought
he was being quiet."

"Do you
know
when
it might have left you?" he asked as they
boarded a downchute cage with a couple of businessmen and dropped to
Level Two.

She shook her
head.

But why had Khar
warned her against entering the apartment, Vaughan thought as they
exited the 'chute cage and hurried along the boulevard towards
Chittapuram. What if the killer had traced Pham there, had forced
entry and...

Sukara!

Fear exploded
through him. He ran, then remembered Pham. She was stumbling after
him. He scooped her up, slung her onto his back and jogged along the
corridor towards his apartment.

It seemed
farther away than he recalled from his leisurely strolls with Sukara,
and for some reason the corridors were crowded this morning. The
journey seemed to take an age.

Five minutes
later he approached the last observation viewscreen before their
door, and paused. He lowered Pham to the floor and stood her against
the viewscreen. "Stay there until I call you, okay?"

She nodded,
once. "Ah-cha," she said obediently.

He took a deep
breath, trying to control his heartbeat as he hurried along the
corridor. He stopped outside the sliding door to his apartment,
wishing that he had never given Sukara the mind-shield so that he
might read her now, reassure himself that she was okay.

His hand shaking
uncontrollably, he fumbled with his key-card and swiped the door
open.

He stepped
inside, a solid block of incipient grief frozen in his chest.

He saw the dead
Westerner first. He lay on the floor on his back, a hole the size of
a fist in his chest.

And then he saw
Sukara. She lay in the sunken sofa, her eyes closed. In the middle of
her forehead was the small, round entry point of a laser. Grief
ripped painfully through him—followed, instantly, by a voice in
his head.

Do
not worry,
Vaughan. Sukara is well. The assassin killed her, but I healed her.

Groggily, Sukara
opened her eyes, stared up at him, and smiled. She reached into her
pocket, pulled something from it, and tossed it across the room.

"Activate
your implant, Jeff, for me."

He almost fell
into the bunker and pulled her into his arms.

He had sworn he
would never read her mind, but now he activated his handset. The
alien in her head withdrew, as if curling itself up, and instantly
her mind flared, and Vaughan was rocked by the force of her emotions.
He read her love for him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and
sobbed.

Later he fetched
a blanket from the bedroom and draped it over the killer's corpse,
then stepped from the apartment and looked along the corridor. He
called Pham's name, and her head peeped around the corner of the
observation gallery. He signalled for her to join him.

She ran along
the corridor. "Is Sukara...?" she began.

Vaughan smiled
and gestured through the door, and Pham sped in and launched herself
at Sukara. Vaughan followed her and closed the door behind hirn.

He held Sukara
and the street-kid while they cried tears of relief and Vaughan
marvelled at the purity of his wife's mind.

"He killed
me, Jeff! The killer killed me, but the alien brought me back to
life. And then..." She shook her head. "I have no memory of
how the killer died."

Vaughan
experienced, through her memories, the events of the previous day.

Khar spoke in
her mind:
I took control, Sukara. You were weakening, and anyway I
did not want you to live with the memory of what I did then.

"
You
shot the killer?"

I took
control of you and did the only thing possible, to save you. I have
kept you unconscious until now, to aid the healing process.

He said to the
alien, "I've been to Mallory, and experienced what Scheering is
doing to your race. I've returned to Earth to help you."

The alien said
to him,
There is only one way our salvation might be achieved,
Vaughan. If you will allow me into your mind, I will tell you...