“What else would you have us do?”
“You know very well. How is Dr Gilmore’s project progressing?”
“Slowly, as Mae Ortlieb has been telling you.”
“Yes, yes.” Haaker waved an irritable hand. “Well keep me informed of any further developments. Preferably ahead of the media.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
The image of the President and his aide vanished.
“Ungrateful old git,” Kolhammer muttered.
“It’s understandable,” Lalwani said. “The Assembly is beginning to resemble a zoo these days. The ambassadors have realized that for once their magnificent speeches alone aren’t going to solve this crisis. They’re shouting for action, though of course they don’t name a specific.”
“The antimatter ought to relieve a lot of pressure on the Navy,” Kolhammer said. “We should be able to press individual governments to maintain the civil starflight quarantine.”
“There’s still a lot of reticence there,” Lalwani said. “The smaller, more distant asteroids are suffering badly from the economic situation. To them, the conflict is a remote one. That justifies their clandestine flights.”
“It’s only remote until their selfish idiocy allows a possessed into their settlement,” Kolhammer snapped.
“We’re making progress on identifying the principal offenders,” Lalwani said. “I’m getting a lot of cooperation from other intelligence agencies. Once we’ve confirmed the offence, the problem then becomes a diplomatic one.”
“And everything goes pear-shaped,” Kolhammer said. “Bloody lawyers.”
Samual put his tea cup down on the central rosewood table, and turned directly to Auster. “You were with Meredith’s squadron at Jupiter, I believe?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Auster said.
“Good. I accessed all of your report on the antimatter station mission while the Ilex was docking; and I’d like you to tell me directly why Consensus is sending two ships to the other side of the Orion nebula.
Specifically why one of them is the Lady Macbeth. I simply could not make it plainer that I expected Captain Calvert and that despicable Mzu woman to remain in Tranquillity, and incommunicado.”
The voidhawk captain gave a slight bow, his face respectfully grave.
Despite all the mental bolstering which came from unity with other Edenists, and his link with Ilex, facing the displeased First Admiral was quite an ordeal. “I assure you, Consensus regards the Alchemist problem with the utmost seriousness. However, there was some on-the-ground information available which required reassessing your proscription.”
Samual Aleksandrovich settled back in the leather upholstery, knowing he shouldn’t enjoy playing the inflexible tyrant. Sometimes it was hard to resist. “Go on.”
“The Lord of Ruin has discovered that the Tyrathca religion may have some physical basis.”
“I didn’t know they had a religion,” Kolhammer said. His neural nanonics was running a search through various encyclopaedia files.
“That was also something of a revelation,” Auster said. “But they do, and their God would appear to be some kind of powerful artefact. They believe it capable of saving them from human possessed.”
“So Consensus sent a pair of starships to investigate,” Samual said.
“Yes. Given the distance involved, the only kind of Adamist ship that can get there is one that has an antimatter drive.”
“And such a flight also removes Calvert and Mzu from any possible contact with the possessed. How very convenient.”
“Consensus considered it so, Admiral.”
Samual laughed dryly. “Lagrange Calvert meeting a real live god. What a spectacle. We should be able to see that clash of egos from this side of the nebula.” Lalwani and Auster grinned in unison.
“Well, there are slimmer straws to grasp, I suppose,” Samual said. “Thank you, Captain, and my congratulations to Ilex on a successful mission.”
The Edenist stood, and bowed formally. “Admiral.” Lieutenant Keaton went with him to the door.
Although he considered it faintly ridiculous, if not rude, Samual waited until Auster was outside before speaking to the other two admirals.
Privacy was a hard concept for him to abandon; and he knew Lalwani kept their secure sessions confidential as a matter of courtesy. “A god?” he asked Lalwani.
“I don’t know anything about it,” she said. “But Consensus wouldn’t embark on such a course unless it had a degree of confidence in the result.”
“Very well,” Samual said. “I’d like to receive a complete briefing from the Jovian Consensus, please.”
“I’ll see that we’re updated.”
“Until we are, we won’t be including biblical salvation in our strategic planning sessions.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“That just leaves us with our last current problem,” Samual said.
“Mortonridge.”
“Could have told you that was a waste of time,” Kolhammer retorted.
“You did. Frequently. As did I. But it is first and foremost a politically motivated campaign. However, we cannot ignore the fact it isn’t going quite to plan. This latest development is unnerving to say the least. It also looks as though our marine battalions are going to be tied up there for a longer than we originally estimated.”
“Longer! Ha,” Kolhammer said in disgust. “Have you accessed any of those sensevises? God, that mud. The whole bloody Liberation is completely stalled.”
“It hasn’t stalled, they’re just encountering more problems than they anticipated,” Lalwani said.
Kolhammer chuckled, and raised his coffee cup in salute. “I’ve always been a massive admirer of the Edenist ability to understate. But I think defining a chunk of land fifteen kilometres across that suddenly takes flight and wanders off into another dimension as a little problem is possibly the best example yet.”
“I never said little.”
“Ketton’s disappearance isn’t my main concern,” Samual said. He received the surprised look which the others gave him with calm humour. “I was thinking about the medical difficulties de-possession is leaving us with.
So far we’ve been fortunate the news companies have been playing it down, but that won’t last. People will eventually wake up to the implications if we’re ever successful in returning planets like Lalonde and Norfolk to this universe. There’s been a commendable effort by the Kingdom’s allies to assist with fresh medical supplies, but the number of cancer-related deaths is still rising.” He clicked his fingers at Keaton, who was hovering near the samovar.
“Sir.” The lieutenant stepped forward. “Trafalgar’s medical office have been examining the consequences of depossession. Frankly, we’re lucky Mortonridge doesn’t have a larger population. The Kingdom and its allies should just manage to provide enough nanonic packages to cope with two million cancer patients. Though we’re dubious about correct application; the number of experienced doctors is a critical factor. However, we estimate that an entire planet of de-possessed, with an average population of three quarters of a billion, would essentially exhaust the entire Confederation’s medical facilities. To our knowledge, the possessed have so far taken over eighteen planets, with several hundred additional asteroid settlements. And we expect the planets Capone has infiltrated will soon join them. Ultimately, we could be dealing with as many as thirty planetary populations, possibly more than that.”
“Shit,” Kolhammer exclaimed. He gave the youngish lieutenant a very worried frown. “So what’s going to happen if we get them all back?”
“Given the development level of cancers we’ve seen on the de-possessed so far, there will be a rapid and extremely high mortality rate among their respective populations if they remain untreated.”
“That’s a very clinical way of putting it, lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir. You should also consider, the possessing souls are either unaware of the damage they’re inflicting on their hosts
, or are unable to cure it. Their energistic power is capable of repairing physical injury, but we haven’t seen them deal with this kind of illness yet. It may be they can’t.”
“What are you getting at?” Lalwani asked.
“Unless the biochemical environment on the planets they’ve removed from this universe is radically different in some way, then the possessed will all be suffering like this no matter where they are. In which case, if they don’t start to effect some kind of treatment, their host bodies might die.”
Lalwani’s shock was so vehement she couldn’t prevent some of it from leaking into the general affinity band. Edenists in the asteroid automatically opened their minds, proffering emotional support.
Reluctantly, Lalwani refused. “Thirty planetary populations?” she demanded, incredulous. She glanced from the lieutenant to the First Admiral. “You knew?”
“I accessed the report this morning,” Samual admitted. “And I haven’t informed the President, yet. Let him get on top of the Assembly again before we break news like this.”
“Dear God,” Kolhammer muttered. “If we pull them back from wherever they’ve gone, we won’t be able to save them. And if we leave them alone, they won’t survive either.” He gave Keaton a look that was almost a plea.
“Did the medical office come up with any ideas?”
“Yes sir, they had two.”
“Finally! Someone with some bloody initiative. What are they?”
“The first is fairly simple. We broadcast a warning to the possessed groups we know are still remaining in this universe. Ask them to stop trying to change the appearance of their host bodies. It should appeal to their own self interest.”
“If they don’t just ignore it as propaganda,” Lalwani said. “By the time a tumour actually becomes noticeable, it’s usually too late for primitive medical treatments.”
“Nonetheless, we will definitely proceed with that option,” Samual said.
“And the second?” Kolhammer asked.
“We formally request the Kiint ambassador for help.”
Kolhammer let out a disgusted breath. “Ha! Those bastards won’t help us. They’ve already made that clear enough.”
“Um, sir?” Keaton said. He gave the First Admiral a glance, and received a nod of permission. “They said they wouldn’t provide us with a solution to possession. In this case, we’re just asking them for material aid. We know they have a more sophisticated technology than ours; human companies have been buying upgrades and improvements for a variety of products ever since we made contact with them. And now with the Tranquillity incident we know they haven’t abandoned their manufacturing base as thoroughly as they claimed. They may well be able to produce the kind of medical systems we require in the quantities we’ll need. After all, we’ll only have a use for them if we solve the possession problem for ourselves. If the Kiint are as sympathetic as they assure us they are, then there is a good chance they’ll say yes.”
“Excellent analysis,” Lalwani said. “We can’t possibly ignore the option.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” Samual said. “In fact, I’ve already requested a personal meeting with Ambassador Roulor. I’ll sound him out about the prospect.”
“Good move,” Kolhammer said. “That’s a commendable advisory team your medical office put together, Samual.”
It felt strange to be back. Quinn stalked through the ghost realm, observing the sect’s Edmonton headquarters. His peculiar, hazy perception of the real world from this shadowed existence might account for his new interpretation of the familiar rooms and corridors. Or it could just be time and a very different attitude to when he was last here.
This had been home for many years. A place of refuge and of terror. Now it was just a cluster of gloomy chambers, devoid of any appeal or memories. The routine of the place hadn’t changed, though it was slowing down, much to the fury of the senior acolytes. He smiled as they shouted and brutalized the juniors. His fault. His word was spreading.
All of Edmonton would soon be aware of his arrival. So far he’d taken over eight covens, and was ready to visit the remainder. Those that had fallen under his thrall were now actively pursuing the will of God’s Brother. Over the last few days he’d been dispatching several small groups to attack strategic sections of the arcology’s infrastructure.
Generators, water stations, transport junctions; they’d all been damaged to some degree. It was primitive stuff, chemical explosives concocted from formulae loaded into public databanks centuries ago by freethink anarchists, the files replicated so many times they were impossible to erase. On Quinn’s orders, the possessed would only supervise the missions, never actually venturing to the target themselves. That was left to the faithful: useful, disposable, imbeciles. He couldn’t risk the authorities discovering a possessed in Edmonton, not yet. So for now such destruction would appear to be the work of a breakaway sect faction, fanatics who had split away from their High Magus. That way they would appear as sympathisers to the anarchist groups in Paris, Bombay, and Johannesburg that were also bombing and terrorizing their fellow citizens.
The authorities would discover who was behind it eventually. But by then he would have established enough cells of possessed to bring about the Night.
Quinn arrived at the temple, and surveyed it slowly. A tall chamber, more elaborate than the smaller covens. Pictures of violent depravity alternated with runes and pentagons along the walls. A wreath of small yellow flames flickered weakly around the tarnished inverted cross on the altar. He was drawn to the big slab as the memories of this place finally returned. There was the pain of his initiation, then more pain as he was used for further ceremonies. Each time, Banneth had smiled down serenely; a dark angel ministering to his body. Drugs and packages were applied, and an obscene variety of pleasure would be combined with his agony.
Banneth’s laugh would wrap around him, taking on the power of an indecent caress. She/he/it, that terrible androgynous multi-sexed monster, conditioned him to respond to the torment in the way that generated the most enjoyment—for it. Eventually the two extremes of sensation merged, becoming one.
A triumph, Banneth had declared. The creation of the perfect sect mentality. Birthing the serpent beast.
Quinn gave the altar a curious look, seeing himself bound to it, skin glistening with sweat and blood as he screamed. The pain and the images were real enough, but he couldn’t recall anything before then. It was as if Banneth had created his flesh at the same time as his mind.
“Quinn? Is that you, Quinn?”
Quinn turned slowly, squinting at the ghostly figure sitting on the front pew. A face he was sure he knew, belonging to this place but from a long time ago. The figure stood, a hunched up adolescent in a torn leather jacket and dirty jeans. He was pitifully insubstantial. “It is you, isn’t it? You remember me, Quinn. It’s me. It’s Erhard.”
“Erhard?” He wasn’t sure.
“Damn, we shovelled shit together for long enough. You must remember.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” A novice acolyte who’d joined the sect around the same time as Quinn. One who lacked the strength to survive such a brotherhood.
The same relentless battery of ordeals and punishments which had fortified Quinn had crushed Erhard. It had culminated in a ritual in the temple, one which Banneth had never intended Erhard to live through.
There was rape and torture and drugs and burrowing parasites of Banneth’s devising; atrocities performed to the hot chants and wild laughter of the entire headquarters coven. Erhard’s final pleas had risen above their chorus, a thin wail of ultimate terror. Then Banneth had brought the jewelled sacrificial knife down in a fast slash.
The joy Quinn had experienced that day was almost orgasmic. He’d been the one tasked to carry the knife for Banneth.
“It’s not fair, Quinn. I don’t belong here. I hate this place. I hate the sect.”
“You never did feed your serpent beast,” Quinn said contemptuously. “Now look at yo
u. You’re as much a loser now as you ever were.”
“It’s not fair!” Erhard cried. “I didn’t know what the sect was like, not really. And then they killed me. You killed me, Quinn. You were one of them.”
“You deserved it.”
“Fuck you. I was nineteen. I had my life, and you took it away, you and that psycho fruit Banneth. I want to kill Banneth. I swore I would.”
“No!” Quinn stormed. Erhard quailed, cowering back from the command.
“Banneth does not die,” Quinn said. “Not ever. Banneth belongs to me.”
The ghost edged forward, holding out a hand as though feeling the warmth thrown out by a fire. “What are you?”
Quinn giggled quietly. “I don’t know. But God’s Brother has shown me what I’ve got to do.” He walked out of the temple, leaving the ghost behind.
Three figures were marching along the corridor, one of them with desperate reluctance. Quinn recognized him. Acolyte Kilian. They’d met a few days ago. All three frowned as they passed their invisible watcher, puzzled by why they suddenly felt so chilly.
Quinn followed them. He knew where they were going, he’d taken this route himself enough times. Soon he would see it again: Banneth. That’s all it would be, this time. Just a look, a reminder of that face. Nothing fast would happen to Banneth. It had taught Quinn well, in that respect. The most delectable punishments were the slowest ones. And when Night came, it would be in tandem with eternity.