The Reality Dysfunction

  “You are the chosen one, Quinn,” the unified voices called inside his skull.

  He felt them emerging out of the shadows, out of Night so profound it was perpetual torment. His heart filled with glory at their presence, they were kindred, serpent beasts. He offered himself to them and they rushed into his mind like a psychic gale. Darkness engulfed him, the world of light and colour falling away at tremendous speed.

  Alone in his cherished Night, Quinn Dexter waited for the coming of the Light Brother.

  Horst Elwes saw the red demon light wink out. The ungodly lightning blazed in its place, arcing through the air, stray ribbons raking around the clearing. Things seemed to be swimming down the incandescent strands, slender, turbid shadows, like the negative image of a shooting star.

  Leaves and vine creepers flapped and shook as air rushed by.

  The Ivets were screaming, flailing about in panic. Horst saw Irley being struck by a wild quivering lightning bolt; the lad was flung two metres through the air to land stunned and twitching.

  Quinn stood fast at the centre of the storm, his body shaking, yet always remaining upright. An incredulous smile on his face.

  The lightning cut off.

  He turned slowly, uncertainly, as though he was unacquainted with his own body, testing his musculature. Horst realized he could see him perfectly even though it was now pitch black. The other Ivets were near-invisible shadows. Quinn’s beatific gaze swept round them all.

  “You as well,” he said gently.

  Lightning streamed out of him, slender bucking threads that flashed unerringly at his five companions. Screams laced the air.

  “Our Father, Who art in Heaven—” Horst said. He was waiting for the lightning to seek him out. “Hallowed be Thy name—” The Ivets’ cries were fading. “Forgive us our trespass—”

  The terrible surging light vanished. Silence descended.

  Horst peeked round the tree. All six Ivets were standing in the clearing.

  Each had their own nimbus of light.

  Like angels, he thought, so handsome with their youthfully splendid bodies. What a cruel deceiver nature is.

  As he watched they began to dim. Jackson Gael turned and looked straight at him. Horst’s heart froze.

  “A priest,” Jackson laughed. “How wonderful. Well, we don’t require your services, padre. But we do need your body.” He took a step forwards.

  “Up there,” Ann cried. She pointed deeper into the jungle.

  Camilla had arrived right at the end of the sacrifice ceremony, just in time to see the lightning writhe around the clearing. She used the chameleon suit’s takpads to climb up a big tree, and crouched in the fork of a bough, looking down on them.

  > Laton said. >

  > she demanded. Adrenalin was tingling inside her veins. >

  >

  >

  >

  >

  Ann called out and pointed. The other Ivets swiveled round.

  Camilla knew what fear was for the first time in her life. > She brought her maser rifle up.

  > Laton called.

  The chameleon suit ignited. Bright white flame engulfed her completely.

  She felt her skin burning and screamed. The plastic fabric melted rapidly, flaming droplets raining down out of the tree. She squirmed about, beating at herself frantically with her arms. She fell from her perch, a tumbling fireball, flames streaming out behind her. By then she had no air left in her lungs to scream with. She hit the ground with a dull whoomp, flinging out a wreath of flame. The temperature of the internecine fire increased, burning like a magnesium flare, consuming muscles, organs, and bone alike.

  The Ivets gathered round as the last flames sputtered and died. All that remained was a blackened outline of scorched earth scattered with glowing clinker-like ashes. They crackled sharply as they cooled.

  “What a waste,” Jackson Gael said.

  They turned as one to look for Horst Elwes. But he had fled long ago.

  Ruth Hilton and the other remaining adult villagers were grouped around the community hall in a defensive ring. The children were all inside it.

  Nobody knew quite what to make of Jay’s story, but there was no disputing she had seen Quinn Dexter.

  Torchlight sliced round the empty cabins and muddy paths. The wooden slat walls shone a pale grey in the beams. Those whose rifles were equipped with nightsights were scanning the surrounding jungle.

  “Christ, how much longer before the hunting party gets back?” Skyba Molvi complained. “They’ve got enough fire-power to blow out an army of Ivets.”

  “Won’t be long,” Ruth muttered tightly.

  “I see him!” someone bellowed.

  “What?” Ruth spun round, every nerve hotwired. Targeting lasers stabbed out, forming bright ruby and emerald zigzag patterns in the air. A magnetic rifle trilled. A patch of ground forty metres away bucked as the slugs hit, forming deep narrow craters, and surrounding vegetation caught light.

  The firing stopped.

  “Bugger; it’s a dog.”

  The breath rushed out of Ruth. Her arms were trembling.

  Children were shouting from the hall, demanding to know what was happening.

  I should be in there with Jay, Ruth thought. Fine mother I am, letting her wander off into the jungle while I’m busy moping. And what the hell did happen out there anyway?

  Horst came ploughing out of the jungle, arms spinning madly for balance.

  His clothes were torn, face and hands scratched and grazed. He saw the beams of light sweeping out from the hall, and shouted at the top of his voice.

  Ruth heard someone say: “It’s that idiot priest.”

  “Drunk again.”

  “That bastard could have saved Carter.”

  Ruth wanted to shrink up into a little ball that no one could see. She was sure everybody could smell her own guilt.

  “Demons,” Horst cried as he ran towards the hall. “They’ve unleashed demons. Lord save us. Flee! Flee!”

  “He is drunk.”

  “It should have been him, not Carter.”

  Horst staggered to a halt in front of them, his body aching so badly from the exertion he could hardly stand. He saw the disgust and contempt in their faces, and wanted to weep. “For pity’s sake. I promise you. Quinn is out there, he killed Powel Manani. Something happened, something came.”

  There were angry murmurs from the crowd. One of them spat in Horst’s direction.

  Ruth noticed her torch was dimming. She slapped it.

  “Why didn’t you help Powel, priest?” someone asked.

  “Ruth?” Horst begged. “Please, tell them how evil Quinn is.”

  “We know.”

  “Shut up, priest. We don’t need a worthless piss-artist telling us about the Ivets. If Quinn shows his face here, he’s dead.”

  Ruth’s torch went out.

  Alarmed gasps went up from the others as all the torches began to flicker and fade.

  “Demons are coming!” Horst yelled.

  Fierce orange flames shot out of one of the cabins fifty metres away from the hall; they licked along its base then raced up the stanchions to the roof. Within thirty seconds the whole structure was ablaze. The twisting flames were ten metres high.

  “Holy shit,” Ruth whispered. Nothing should burn that quickly.

  “Mummy!” a child called from the hall.

  “Horst, what happened out there?” Ruth cried.

  Horst shook his head, a bubbling giggle coming from his lips. “Too late, too late. Satan’s beasts walk among us now. I told you.”

  A second cabin began to blaze.

&nb
sp; “Get the children out of the hall,” Skyba Molvi shouted. There was a general rush for the door. Ruth hesitated, looking at Horst imploringly.

  Most of the village clearing was now illuminated by erratic amber light.

  Shadows possessed a life of their own, leaping about at random. A black silhouette fluttered between the cabins in the distance behind the priest.

  “They’re here,” she said. Nobody was listening. “They’re here, the Ivets!” She tugged her laser rifle up. The green targeting beam pierced the air, sending relief flooding through her. At least something bloody worked. She pulled the trigger, sending a barrage of infrared pulses after the elusive figure.

  The children swept out of the hall like a wave, some of the older ones scaling the flimsy metre-high side walls. Cries and shouts broke out as they tried to run to their parents.

  “Jay!” Ruth called.

  A line of flame streaked along the roof. It was an unerringly straight line, Ruth could see the wood turning black an instant before the actual flame shot up. Maser!

  She worked out roughly where it must be firing from, and brought the laser rifle to bear. Her finger punched down on the trigger stud.

  “Mummy,” Jay called.

  “Here.”

  The laser rifle bleeped. Ruth ejected the drained power magazine and slammed in a fresh one.

  Several other people were firing into the jungle. The neon threads of targeting lasers lashed out, chasing elusive phantoms.

  There was a concerted movement away from the hall, everyone crouching low. It was pandemonium, children wailing, adults shouting. The woven palm wall of the hall caught fire.

  They could kill every one of us if they wanted to, she realized.

  Jay rushed up and flung her arms round her waist. Ruth grabbed her arm.

  “Come on, this way.” She started towards the jetty. Another three cabins were on fire.

  She saw Horst a couple of metres away, and jerked her head in a determined gesture. He began to lumber along after them.

  A scream sounded across Aberdale, a gruesome drawn-out warbling that could never have come from a human throat. It shocked even the distraught children into silence. Targeting lasers jabbed out in reflex, spearing the gaps between the cabins.

  The scream faded to a poignant desperate whimper.

  “Jesus God, they’re everywhere, all around.”

  “Where are the hunters? The hunters!”

  There seemed to be fewer targeting lasers active now. The first burning cabin suddenly crumpled up, blowing out ephemeral spires of brilliant sparks.

  “Horst, we’ve got to get Jay away,” Ruth said urgently.

  “No escape,” he mumbled. “Not for the damned. And were we ever anything but?”

  “Oh, yeah? Don’t you believe it.” She began to pull Jay across the stream of people, heading towards the nearest row of cabins. Horst lowered his head and followed.

  They reached the cabins just as some kind of commotion started down by the jetty: shouting, the splash of something heavy falling into the river. It meant nobody was paying her much attention.

  “Thank Christ for that,” Ruth said. She led Jay down the gap between two cabins.

  “Where are we going, Mummy?” Jay asked.

  “We’ll hide out for a couple of hours until that bloody hunting party gets back. God damn Powel for stripping the village.”

  “He’s beyond damnation now,” Horst said.

  “Look, Horst, just what—”

  Jackson Gael stepped around the end of the cabin and planted himself firmly in front of them. “Ruth. Little Jay. Father Horst. Come to me. You are so welcome.”

  “Bollocks,” Ruth snarled. She swung the laser rifle round. There was no targeting beam, even the power-level LEDs were dead. “Shit!”

  Jackson Gael took a step towards them. “There is no death any more, Ruth,” he said. “There will never be death again.”

  Ruth thrust Jay towards Horst. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done. “Get her out of here, Horst, get her away.”

  “Trust me, Ruth, you will not die.” Jackson Gael held out his hand.

  “Come.”

  “Screw you.” She dropped the useless laser rifle, standing between him and Jay.

  “There is no sanctuary,” Horst mumbled. “Not on this cursed planet.”

  “Mummy!” Jay wailed.

  “Horst, just for once in your fucking pitiful life do something right; take my daughter and get her out of here. This bastard isn’t getting past me.”

  “I—”

  “Do it!”

  “God bless you, Ruth.” He started to pull a struggling Jay back the way they had come.

  “Mummy, please!” she shrieked.

  “Go with Horst. I love you.” She drew her Bowie knife from its belt scabbard. Good solid dependable steel.

  Jackson Gael grinned. Ruth could have sworn she saw fangs.

  Chapter 14

  Ione Saldana stood in front of the tube carriage’s door, urging it to open.

  > Tranquillity grumbled as the backwash of emotion dissipated through the affinity bond.

  > She clenched her fists, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The carriage started to slow, and she reached up to hold one of the hand hoops. The memory of Joshua flashed into her mind—she’d never be able to use the carriages without thinking of him again. She smiled.

  There was a frisson of disparagement from Tranquillity sounding in her mind.

  > she teased.

  > came the piqued reply.

  The carriage door slid open. Ione stepped out on the deserted platform and raced up the stairs, her serjeant bodyguard clumping along behind.

  It was a southern endcap cove station, a couple of kilometres away from the Laymil research project campus. The cove was six hundred metres long, a gentle crescent with fine gold-white sands and several outcrops of granite boulders. A rank of ageing coconut trees followed the beach’s curve; several had keeled over, pulling up large clods of sand and roots, and three had snapped off halfway up the trunk, adding to the vaguely wild look of the place. At the centre of the cove, sixty metres out from the shore, there was a tiny island with a few tall palm trees, providing an appealing nook for the more enthusiastic swimmers. A shingly bluff planted with coarse reeds rose up from the rear of the sands, blending into the first and widest of the endcap’s terraces.

  Six low polyp domes, forty metres in diameter, broke the expanse of grass and silk oak trees behind the bluff, giving the impression of being partially buried. They were the Kiint residences, grown specifically for the eight big xenocs who participated in the Laymil project.

  Their involvement had been quite a coup for Michael Saldana. Even though they didn’t build ZTT starships (they claimed their psychology meant they had no real interest in space travel), the Kiint remained the most technologically advanced race in the Confederation. Up until Michael’s invitation was accepted they had refrained from any joint scientific enterprise with other Confederation members. However, Michael succeeded where countless others had failed, in presenting them with a peaceful challenge which would tax even their capabilities. Their intellect, along with the instrumentation they provided, would inevitably speed up the research. And of course their presence had helped to bolster Tranquillity’s kudos in the difficult early days.

  Eight was the largest number of Kiint resident on a human world or habitat outside the Confederation capital, Avon. Something else which had given Michael a considerable degree of underhand satisfaction—Kulu only rated the customary pair as ambassadors.

  Inside Tranquillity the Kiint were as insular as they were in the Confederation at large. Although cordial with their fellow project staff members, they did not socialize with any of the habitat’s population, and Tranquillity guarded their physical privacy quite rigorously. Even Ione had only had a few formal meetings with them, where bot
h sides stuck to small-talk pleasantries. It was just as bad as having to “receive” all those national ambassadors. The hours she’d spent with those semi-senile bores ...

  Ione had never been out to the Kiint buildings before, and probably never would have. But this occasion justified it, she felt, even if they were upset with her breach of etiquette.

  She stood on the top of the bluff, and looked down at the bulky white xenocs bathing in the shallows. From her vantage point she could see a lot of splashing going on.

  Thirty metres away, there was a wide path of crumbling soil leading to the sands. She started down.

  > she asked, suddenly curious.

  >

  >

  >

  > she said impatiently. She reached the bottom of the path, and took her sandals off to walk across the sand. The towelling robe she wore over her bikini flapped loosely.

  There were three Kiint in the water, Nang and Lieria, a pair who worked in the Laymil project Physiology Division, and a baby. Tranquillity had reported its appearance as soon as Ione woke up that morning, although the personality refused to show her its own memory of the birth, which had come sometime in the night. > it asked sternly.

  She had acquiesced with bad grace.

  The baby Kiint was about two metres long, its body more rounded than the adults’ and slightly whiter. The legs were a metre high, which brought the top of the head level with Ione’s. It was clearly having a rare old time in the water. The tractamorphic arms were formshifting at a frantic rate, first scoops, then paddles slapped about to raise sheets of spray, now bulblike pods which squirted out jets of water. Its beak was flapping open and shut.