Use of Weapons (30 page)

They'd
taken him to the furnace room, stripped him naked; he'd escaped, but soldiers
had been pounding down the stairs and he'd had to run. He'd been forced into
the river, when they cornered him again. The dive almost knocked him out.
Currents took him and he spun, lazily... he woke up in the morning, under a
winch housing on a big river barge; he had no idea how he'd got there. There
was a rope trailing astern, and he could only guess he'd climbed up that. His
head still hurt.

He
took some clothes which were drying on a line behind the wheelhouse, but he was
seen; he dived overboard with them, swam to the shore. He'd still been hounded,
and all the time he was forced further away from the city and Sanctum, where
the Culture might look for him. He spent hours trying to work out how to
contact them.

He'd
been on a stolen mount, skirting the edge of a water-filled volcanic crater
when the robbers struck; they'd beaten him and raped him and cut the tendons in
his legs and tossed him into the stinking, yellow-tinged waters of the crater
lake, then thrown boulders at him as he tried to swim away, using only his
arms, legs floating uselessly behind him.

He
knew one of the rocks would hit him sooner or later, so he tried to coax up
some of that wonderful Culture training, quickly hyperventilated, and then
dived. He only had to wait a couple of seconds. A big rock splashed into the
water, in the line of bubbles he'd left when he dived; he embraced the rock
like a lover as it wobbled down towards him, and let it take him deep into the
darkness of the lake, switching off the way he'd been taught to, but not really
caring very much if it didn't work, and he never woke up again.

He'd
thought
ten minutes
when he dived. He
woke up in crushing darkness; remembered, and dragged his arms out from under
the rock. He kicked for the light but nothing happened. He used his arms. The
surface came down to meet him, eventually. Air had never tasted so sweet.

The
walls of the crater lake were sheer; the tiny rock island was the only place to
swim to. Screeching birds lifted from the island as he thrashed his way ashore.

At
least, he thought, as he dragged himself onto the rock through the guano, it
wasn't the priests that found me. Then I'd
really
have been in trouble.

The
bends set in a few minutes later, like slow acid seeping into every joint, and
he wished the priests had got him.

Still
- he told himself, talking to keep his mind away from the pain - they would
come for him; the Culture would come down with a beautiful big ship and they
would take him up and make it all better.

He
was sure they would. He'd be looked after and made better and he'd be safe,
very safe and well looked after and free from pain, back in their paradise, and
it would be like... like being a child again; like being in the garden again.
Except - some rogue part of his mind reminded him - bad things happened in
gardens too, sometimes.

Darckense
got the armoury guard to help her with a door that was stuck, along the
corridor, just round the corner. Cheradenine slipped in and took the autorifle
Elethiomel had described. He got back out, covering the gun in a cape, and
heard Darckense thanking the guard profusely. They all met up in the rear hall
cloakroom, where they whispered excitedly in the comforting smell of wet cloth
and floor polish, and took turns holding the gun. It was very heavy.

'There's
only one magazine!'

'I
couldn't see the others.'

'God
you're blind, Zak. Have to do, I suppose.'

'Ugh;
it's oily,' Darckense said.

'That
stops rust,' Cheradenine explained.

'Where
are we supposed to let it off?' Livueta asked.

'We'll
hide it here and then get out after dinner,' Elethiomel said, taking the weapon
from Darckense. 'It's Big-nose for studies and he always sleeps right through
anyway. Mother and father will be entertaining that colonel; we can get out of
the house and into the woods and fire - not "let off", actually -
fire the gun there.'

'We'll
probably get killed,' Livueta said. 'The guards will think we're terrorists.'

Elethiomel
shook his head patiently. 'Livvy, you are stupid.' He pointed the gun at her.
'It's got a silencer; what do you think this bit is?'

'Huh,'
Livueta said, pushing the point away from her. 'Has it got a safety catch?'

Elethiomel
looked uncertain for just a moment. 'Of course,' he said, loudly, then flinched
a little and glanced at the closed door to the hall. 'Of course,' he whispered.
'Come on; we'll hide it here and come back for it when we've got away from
Big-nose.'

'You
can't hide it here,' Livueta said.

'Bet
I can.'

'It
smells too much,' Livueta said. 'The oil smells; you'd smell it as soon as you
walked in here. What if father decides to go for a walk?'

Elethiomel
looked worried. Livueta moved past him, opened a small high window.

'How
about hiding it on the stone boat?' Cheradenine suggested. 'Nobody ever goes
there at this time of year.'

Elethiomel
thought about this. He grabbed the cloak Cheradenine had wrapped the gun in
originally and covered the weapon again. 'All right. You take it.'

Still
not far enough back, or not far enough forward... he wasn't sure. The right
place; that was what he was looking for. The right place. Place was all
important, place meant everything. Take this rock...

'Take
you, rock,' he said. He squinted at it.

Ah
yes, here we have the nasty big flat rock, sitting doing nothing, just amoral
and dull, and it sits like an island in the polluted pool. The pool is a tiny
lake on the little island, and the island is in a drowned crater. The crater is
a volcanic crater, the volcano forms part of an island in a big inland sea. The
inland sea is like a giant lake on a continent and the continent is like an
island sitting in the seas of the planet. The planet is like an island in the
sea of space within its system, and the system floats within the cluster, which
is like an island in the sea of the galaxy, which is like an island in the
archipelago of its local group, which is an island within the universe; the
universe is like an island floating in a sea of space in the Continua, and they
float like islands in the Reality, and...

But
down through the Continua, the Universe, the Local Group, the Galaxy, the
Cluster, the System, the Planet, the Continent, the Island, the Lake, the
Island... the rock remained. AND THAT MEANT THE ROCK, THE CRAPPY AWFUL ROCK
HERE WAS THE CENTRE OF THE UNIVERSE, THE CONTINUA,
THE WHOLE REALITY
!

The
word was caldera. The lake was in a drowned caldera. He raised his head, looked
out over the still, yellowish water towards the crater cliffs, and seemed to
see a boat made of stone.

'Scream,'
he said.

'Piss
off,' he heard the sky say, unconvinced.

The
sky was full of cloud and it was getting dark early; their language tutor took
longer than usual to fall asleep behind his high desk, and they almost decided
to abandon the whole plan until tomorrow, but couldn't bear to. They crept out
of the classroom, then walked as normally as they could, down to the rear hall,
where they picked up their boots and jackets.

'See,'
Livueta whispered. 'It smells a bit of gun-oil anyway.'

'I
can't smell any,' Elethiomel lied.

The
banqueting rooms - where a visiting Colonel and his staff were being wined and
dined that evening - faced the parks to the front of the house; the lake with
the stone boat was at the rear.

'Just
going to walk round the lake, Sergeant,' Cheradenine told the guard who stopped
them on the gravel path towards the stone boat. The sergeant nodded, told them
to walk quickly; it would soon be dark.

They
sneaked onto the boat, found the rifle where Cheradenine had hidden it, under
a stone bench on the upper deck.

As
he lifted it from the flagstone deck, Elethiomel knocked the gun against the
side of the bench.

There
was a snapping noise, and the magazine fell off; then there was a noise like a
spring, and bullets clicked and clattered over the stones.

'Idiot!'
Cheradenine said.

'Shut
up!'

'Oh
no,' Livueta said, bending down and scooping up some of the rounds.

'Let's
go back,' Darckense whispered. 'I'm frightened.'

'Don't
worry,' Cheradenine said, patting her hand. 'Come on; look for the bullets.'

It
seemed to take ages to find them and clean them and press them back into the
magazine. Even then, they thought there were probably a few missing. By the
time they'd finished and got the magazine slotted back into place, it was
almost night.

'It's
far too dark,' Livueta said. They were all crouched down at the balustrade,
looking out over the lake to the house. Elethiomel held the gun.

'No!'
he said. 'We can still see.'

'No
we can't, not properly,' Cheradenine told him.

'Let's
leave it till tomorrow,' Livueta said.

'They'll
notice we're gone soon,' Cheradenine whispered. 'We haven't got the time!'

'No!'
Elethiomel said, looking out to where the guard walked slowly past the end of
the causeway. Livueta looked too; it was the sergeant who'd talked to them.

'You're
being an idiot!' Cheradenine said, and put one hand out, taking hold of the
gun. Elethiomel pulled away.

'It's
mine; leave it!'

'It
is
not
yours!' Cheradenine hissed.
'It's ours; it belongs to our family, not yours!' He got both hands on the gun.
Elethiomel pulled back again.

'Stop
it!' Darckense said, her voice tiny.

'Don't
be so...' Livueta started to say.

She
looked over the edge of the parapet, to where she thought she'd heard a noise.

'Give
it
here
!'

'Let
it go!'

'Please
stop; please stop. Let's go back in, please...'

Livueta
didn't hear them. She was staring, wide-eyed, dry-mouthed, over the stone
parapet. A black-covered man picked up the rifle the guard sergeant had
dropped. The guard sear-geant himself lay on the gravel. Something glittered in
the black-dressed man's hand, reflecting the lights of the house. The man
pushed the slack form of the sergeant off the gravel, into the lake.

Her
breath caught in her throat. Livueta ducked down. She flapped her hands at the
two boys. 'St...' she said. They still struggled.

'St...'

'Mine!'

'Let
go
!'

'Stop!'
she hissed, and struck them both on the head. They both stared at her.
'Somebody just killed that sergeant; just out there.'

'What?'
Both boys looked over the parapet. Elethiomel still held the gun.

Darckense
squatted down and started to cry.

'Where?'

'There;
that's his body! There in the water!'

'Sure,'
Elethiomel said in a whispered drawl. 'And who...'

The
three of them saw one shadowy figure move towards the house, keeping in the
shade of the bushes bordering the path. A dozen or so men - just patches of
darkness on the gravel - moved along the side of the lake, where there was a
narrow strip of grass.

'Terrorists!'
Elethiomel said excitedly, as the three all ducked back behind the balustrade,
where Darckense wept quietly.

'Tell
the house,' Livueta said. 'Fire the gun.'

'Take
the silencer off first,' Cheradenine said.

Elethiomel
struggled with the end of the barrel. 'It's stuck!'

'Let
me try!' All three tried.

'Fire
it anyway,' Cheradenine said.

'Yeah!'
Elethiomel whispered. He shook the gun, hefted it. 'Yeah!' he said. He knelt,
put the gun on the stone bulwark, sighted.

'Be
careful,' Livueta said.

Elethiomel
aimed at the dark men, crossing the path towards the house. He pulled the
trigger.

The
gun seemed to explode. The whole deck of the stone boat lit up. The noise was
tremendous; Elethiomel was thrown back, gun still firing, blasting tracer into
the night sky. He crashed into the bench. Darckense shrieked at the top of her
lungs. She leapt up; firing sounded from near the house.

'Darkle;
get down!' Livueta screamed. Lines of light flickered and cracked above the
stone boat.

Darckense
stood screaming, then started to run for the stairs. Elethiomel shook his head,
looked up as the girl ran past him. Livueta grabbed at her and missed.
Cheradenine tried to tackle her.

The
lines of light lowered, detonating chips of rock off the stones all around them
in tiny clouds of dust, at the same time as Darckense, still screaming,
stumbled to the stairs.

The
bullet entered Darckense through the hip: the other three heard - quite
distinctly - the noise that it made, above the gunfire and the girl's scream.