The Night's Dawn Trilogy (214 page)

Dariat moved swiftly through the woods to a large glade which Kiera was using. Impressively tall trees with grey-green leaves
formed a valley on either side of a wide stream, their black trunks host to a furry moss-analogue. Long grass fringed the
water, littered with wild poppies.

Two groups of people were occupying the glade. One was comprised entirely of youngsters, couples in their late teens and early
twenties; boys all with bare chests, wearing shorts or swimming trunks; girls in light summer dresses or bikinis, emphasising
their femininity. Both genders had been chosen for their beauty. Four or five children milled about looking completely bored;
girls in party frocks and ribbons in their hair, boys in shorts and smart shirts. Two of the under sevens were smoking.

At the other end of the glade four people in ordinary clothes stood in a group, talking in loud strained voices. Arms waved
around as fingers jabbed for emphasis. Various electronic modules were scattered on the grass around their feet, the paraphernalia
of a professional MF recording operation.

Dariat saw Kiera Salter was standing among the recording team, and went over. She was wearing a white cotton camisole with
tiny pearl buttons down the front, the top half undone to display her cleavage; and a thin white skirt showing tanned legs
and bare feet. With her hair unbound over her shoulders the effect was awesomely sexy. It lasted right up until she turned
her gaze on him. Marie Skibbow’s body might be a male fantasy made flesh, but the maleficent intelligence now residing in
her skull was instantly chilling.

“I hear you’re losing it, Dariat,” she said curtly. “I’ve been patient with you so far, because you’ve been very useful to
us. But if there’s another incident like the one in the service tunnel, then I shall consider that usefulness at an end.”

“If you don’t have me here to counter Rubra, then it’s going to be you who’ll wind up losing your temper. He’ll blast every
possessed back into the beyond if you let your guard down for a second. He doesn’t care about the people whose bodies we’ve
stolen.”

“You are becoming a bore, Dariat. And from what I hear that wasn’t a temper loss, more like a psychotic episode. You’re a
paranoid schizophrenic, and people find that unsettling. Now concentrate on how to flush Rubra out of the neural strata by
all means, but stop trying to spread dissension or it’s going to go hard on you. Clear?”

“As crystal.”

“Good. I do appreciate what you’re trying to do, Dariat. You’re just going to have to learn a softer approach, that’s all.”
She gave him a factory-issue sympathetic smile.

Dariat saw one of the xenoc triangle birds perched on a tree behind her, watching the scene in the glade. The smirk which
rose on his real lips was hidden by the energistic mirage-form he cloaked himself with. “I expect you’re right. I’ll try.”

“Good man. Look, I don’t want to be forced out of Valisk by him any more than you do. We’re both onto a good thing here, and
we can both maintain our status providing we just keep calm. If this recording works we should have recruits flocking to join
us. That way we can shift Valisk to a place where Rubra’s neutered. Permanently. Just keep him from causing too much trouble
before then, and leave the rest to me, okay?”

“Yeah, all right. I understand.”

She nodded dismissal, then took a steadying breath and turned back to the recording team. “Are you ready yet?”

Khaled Jaros glared at the recalcitrant sensor block in his hand. “I think so, yes. I’m sure it will work this time. Ramon
has reprogrammed it so that only the primary functions are left; we won’t be able to get olfactory or thermal inputs, but
the AV reception appears to be holding stable. With a bit of luck we can add some emotional activant patterns later.”

“All right, we’ll try again,” she said loudly.

Under Khaled’s directions the group of sybarite youths took up their positions once more. One couple started necking on the
grass, another pair sported in the water. The little children stubbed their cigarettes out, then ran around in dizzy circles,
giggling and shrieking. “Not so loud!” Khaled bellowed at them.

Kiera took up her own position leaning against the boulder at the side of the sparkling water. She cleared her throat, and
forked her hair back with her left hand.

“Undo another couple more buttons, dear, please,” Khaled instructed. “And bend your knees further.” He was staring straight
into an AV pillar on one of the blocks.

She paused irately, and thought about it. The solidity of the camisole buttons wavered, and the hoops fell off allowing the
flimsy fabric to shift still further apart. “Is this quite necessary?” she asked.

“Trust me, darling. I’ve directed enough commercials in my time. Sex always sells: primary rule of advertising. And that’s
what this is, no matter what you want to call it. So I want legs and cleavage for the boys to drool over, and confidence to
inspire the girls. That way we get them both feeding from our palm.”

“Okay,” she grumbled.

“Wait.”

“Now
what?”

He looked up from the AV pillar. “You’re not distinctive enough.”

Kiera glanced down at the slope of her breasts on show. “You are making a very bad joke.”

“No no, not your tits, darling; they’re just fine. No, it’s the overall image, it’s so passÉ.” Fingers plucked at his lower
lip. “I know, let’s be astonishingly bold. I want you lounging there, just as you are, but have a red scarf wrapped around
your ankle.”

Kiera stared at him.

“Please, love? Trust, remember?”

She concentrated again. The appropriate fabric materialized around her ankle, a silk handkerchief tied in a single knot. Blood
red, and see if he caught the hint.

“That’s wonderful. You look wild, gypsy exotic. I’m in love with you already.”

“Can I start now?”

“Ready when you are.”

Kiera took a moment to compose herself again, aiming for an expression which was the epitome of adolescent coyness. The water
tinkled melodically beside her, other youths smiled and held each other close, children raced past her boulder. She grinned
indulgently at them, and waved as they played their merry game. Then her head came around slowly to look straight at the sensor
block.

“You know, they’re going to tell you that you shouldn’t be accessing this recording,” she said. “In fact, they’re going to
get quite serious about that; your mum and dad, your big brother, the authorities in charge of wherever you live. Can’t think
why. Except, of course, I’m one of the possessed, one of the demons threatening ‘the fabric of the universe,’ your universe.
I’m your enemy, apparently. I’m pretty sure I am, anyway; the Confederation Assembly says so. So… that must be right. Yes?
I mean, President Haaker came here and looked me over, and talked to me, and found out all about me, what I want, what I hate,
which is my favourite MF artist, what frightens me. I don’t remember that time when I spoke to him. But it must have happened,
because the ambassadors of every government in the Assembly voted that I’m officially to be denounced as a monster. They wouldn’t
do that, not all those bright, serious, wise people, unless they had all the facts at their disposal, now would they?

“Actually, the one lonely fact they had, and voted on, was that Laton killed ten thousand Edenists because they were possessed.
You remember Laton. Some sort of hero a while back, I’ve been told, something about a habitat called Jantrit. I wonder if
he asked the individuals on Pernik island if they wanted to be exterminated. I wonder if they all said yes.

“They’ve done to us what they do to kids the universe over, lumped us together and said we’re bad. One thug hits somebody,
and every kid is a violent hooligan. You know that’s truth, it happens all the time in your neighbourhood. You’re never an
individual, not to them. One wrong, all wrong. That’s the way we’re treated.

“Well, not here, not in Valisk. Maybe some possessed want to conquer the universe. If they do, then I hope the Confederation
Navy fights them. I hope the navy wins. Those sort of possessed frighten me as much as they frighten you. That’s not what
we’re about, it’s so stupid, it’s so obsolete. There’s no need for that kind of behaviour, that kind of thinking, not anymore.
Not now.

“Those of us here on Valisk have seen what the power which comes of possession can really do when it’s applied properly. Not
when it’s turned to destruction, but when it’s used to help people. That’s what frightens President Haaker, because it threatens
the whole order of his precious world. And if that goes, he goes, along with all his power and his wealth. Because that’s
what this is really all about: money. Money buys people, money lets companies invest and consolidate their markets, money
pays for weapons, tax money pays for bureaucracy, money buys political power. Money is a way of rationing what the universe
has to offer us. But the universe is infinite, it doesn’t need to be rationed.

“Those of us who have emerged from the dead of night can break the restrictions of this corrupt society. We can live outside
it, and flourish. We can burn your Jovian Bank ration cards and liberate you from the restrictions others impose on you.”
Her smile tilted towards shy impishness. She held a hand out towards the sensor block, palm open. Her fingers closed into
a fist, then parted again. A pile of ice-blue diamonds glittered in her palm, laced with slim platinum chains.

She grinned back at the sensor block, then tipped them carelessly onto the grass. “You see, it’s so simple. Items, objects,
goods, the capitalist stockpile, exist only to give joy; for us living in Valisk they are an expression of emotion. Economics
is dead, and true equality will rise out of the ashes. We’ve turned our back on materialism, rejected it completely. It has
no purpose anymore. Now we can live as we please, develop our minds not our finances. We can love one another without the
barrier of fear now that honesty has replaced greed, for greed has died along with all the other vices of old. Valisk has
become a place where every wish is granted, however small, however grand. And not just for those of us who have returned.
To keep it to ourselves would be a cardinal act of greed. It is for everyone. For this aspect of our existence is the part
which your society will despise the most, will curse us for. We are taking Valisk out of this physical dimension of the universe,
launching it to a continuum where everyone will have our energistic power. It’s a place where I can take on form, and return
the body I have borrowed. All of us lost souls will be real people again, without conflict, and without the pain it takes
for us to manifest ourselves here.

“And now I’ll make our offer. We open Valisk to all people of goodwill, to those of a gentle disposition, to everyone sick
of having to struggle to survive, and sick also of the petty limits governments and cultures place on the human heart. You
are welcome to join us on our voyage. We shall be leaving soon, before the navy warships come and their bombs burn us for
the crime of being what we are: people who embrace peace.

“I promise you that anyone who reaches Valisk will be granted a place among us. It will not be an easy journey for you, but
I urge you to try. Good luck, I’ll be waiting.”

The white cotton changed, darkening into a swirling riot of colour, as if skirt and camisole were made from a thousand butterfly
wings. Marie Skibbow’s smile shone through, bringing a natural warmth all of its own to the watchers. Children flocked around
her, giggling merrily, hurling poppy petals into the air so that when they fell they became a glorious scarlet snowstorm.
She let them take her hands and hurry her forwards, eager to join their game.

The recording ended.

•  •  •

Despite being nearly fifty years old, the implant surgery care ward boasted an impressive array of contemporary equipment.
Medicine, along with its various modern sidelines, was a profitable business in Culey asteroid.

The annex to which Erick Thakrar had been assigned (Duchamp hadn’t paid for a private room) was halfway along the ward’s main
hall, a standardized room of pearl-white composite walls and glare-free lighting panels, the template followed by hospitals
right across the Confederation. Patients were monitored by a pair of nurses at a central console just inside the door. They
weren’t strictly necessary, the hospital’s sub-sentient processor array was a lot faster at spotting metabolic anomalies developing.
But hospitals always adopted the person-in-the-loop philosophy; invalids wanted the human touch, it was reassuring. As well
as being profitable, medicine was one of the last remaining labour-intensive industries, resisting automation with an almost
Luddite zeal.

The operation to implant Erick’s artificial tissue units had begun fifteen minutes after his removal from zero-tau. He’d been
in surgery for sixteen hours; at one point he had four different surgical teams working on various parts of him. When he came
out of theatre, thirty per cent of his body weight was accounted for by artificial tissue.

On the second day after his operation he had a visitor: a woman in her mid-thirties with unobtrusive Oriental features. She
smiled at the ward’s duty nurse, claiming she was Erick’s second cousin, and could even have proved it with an ID card if
she’d been pressed. The nurse simply waved her down the ward.

When she entered the annex two of the six beds were unoccupied. One had the privacy screen down to reveal an elderly man who
gave her a hopeful talk-to-me-please look, the remaining three were fully screened. She smiled blandly at the lonely man,
and turned to Erick’s bed, datavising a code at the screen control processor. The screen split at the foot of the bed, shrinking
back towards the walls. The visitor stepped inside, and promptly datavised a closure code at it.

She tried not to flinch when she saw the figure lying on the active shapeform mattress. Erick was completely coated in a medical
package, as if the translucent green substance had been tailored into a skintight leotard. Tubes emerged from his neck and
along the side of his ribs, linking him with a tall stack of medical equipment at the head of the bed, supplying the nanonics
with specialist chemicals needed to bolster the traumatized flesh, and syphoning out toxins and dead blood cells.