Hellworld

  "I never wanted to fight you, Elena," said Lindholm quietly.

  "It was bound to happen sooner or later, Sven," said Dante. "That's how the Arena works. Don't think I'll go easy on you, just because we're friends."

  "More than friends."

  "Maybe. It still doesn't make any difference. Out here on the sands there are only winners and losers. And I always fight to win."

  "You can't kill me," said Lindholm. "Not after all we've meant to each other."

  "You always were a romantic, Sven." Dante grinned widely. "Tell you what. We both know I'm going to win, so you just put up a good fight, give the crowd their thrills, and I promise you a quick death."

  "You'd do that for me?" said Lindholm.

  "Sure. What are friends for?"

  Lindholm frowned. "I remember this. I've been here before. We fought in the Arena, and I killed you."

  "That's right, Sven. And then you killed the fixer who arranged the match, and twenty-seven other Arena officials, before they finally dragged you down, clapped the irons on you, and gave you to the Hell Squads. But now I'm back, and you're going to have to kill me all over again. If you can."

  Their swords met in a clash of steel.

  DeChance stood knee-deep in filthy water in a tunnel beneath the alien city, and stared passionlessly at the familiar figure emerging from the hole in the wall. Corbie and Lindholm stood unmoving between her and the hole, staring blindly into the gloom. The familiar figure stepped into the lantern light. He was of average height and weight, with the quiet bland looks that can make a man invisible in a crowd. He smiled confidently at DeChance.

  "Hello, Meg. Surprised to see me?"

  "You're not real," said DeChance flatly. "There's no way you could be here, on Wolf IV. You're still out there in the Empire somewhere, doing what you do best. Getting people to trust them, and then betraying them for a handful of change."

  He laughed quietly. "I'm as real as you want me to be, Meg. Believe in me and I'm here, as accurate as your memories can make me. And you do want to see me again, don't you? Even after everything, that happened, there's a part of you that never stopped caring for me; never stopped believing that deep down I cared for you." He smiled warmly at her. "After all, what did I do that was so bad? We all have to make a living."

  DeChance moved a step closer to him. "I loved you. Trusted you. Gave you every credit I had, to get me a berth on a ship heading for Mistworld. I would have been safe there; finally free from the Empire and the way it's always treated espers. You were going to join me there, and we were going to make a life together. But there was no berth and there was no ship, and when the Security Guards came for me you were nowhere to be seen. I found out about you later, of course. But by then I'd already been condemned to the Hell Squads."

  "Of course," said the smiling figure. "They always find out when it's too late. I do try to be professional in my work. Francis Shrike; licensed traitor, double-dealing a speciality." He cocked his head to one side, and fixed her with a glittering eye. "You're still not sure how you feel about me, are you? Are you angry at me for betraying you, or at yourself, for trusting me? Could you really have been so blind and foolish as to love someone who didn't give a damn about you?"

  "I know who was to blame." DeChance's sword seemed almost to leap into her hand. "I know who I hate."

  Shrike shook his head condescendingly. "You always did carry a grudge, Meg. But things can be different here. I can be anything you want me to be. I can love you like you've always wanted to be loved. I can be everything you ever dreamed of. Just put down your sword and come to me."

  DeChance moved forward a step, and then stopped. "Francis . . ."

  "Come to me, Meg. I'm all yours."

  DeChance lifted her sword and gripped the blade tightly with her left hand. Blood ran down the blade as the keen edges cut into her flesh. The pain ran through her like a shock of cold water, and she grinned tightly at the figure before her.

  "Nice try, but you're not Francis. You're not even real. And I hate him too much to be satisfied with a cheap imitation." She tore her gaze away with an effort, and looked at the two marines, still standing silent and motionless. "What are they seeing? What faces are you showing them?"

  "Whatever they want to see. It doesn't matter. They'll be mine soon."

  "That's what you think," said DeChance. She sheathed her sword, drew her disrupter, and shot him at point-blank range. The brilliant beam of energy tore through his gut. Shrike's mouth stretched impossibly wide as he screamed. Corbie and Lindholm awoke with a start and looked about in confusion, torn abruptly from their dreams.

  "It was just a trick," said DeChance quickly. "Whatever you saw, it wasn't real. It seems we've come across an alien with very strong esp. It tried to kill us with our own fears and desires."

  DeChance and the marines glared at the creature before them. Under the pressure of their minds, the alien's shape began to blur and change, its features rising and falling as it tried to be three people at once. It quickly lost control, its humanity falling away like a discarded coat. The features fell apart, the eyes sliding down the face and sinking into the skin. The mouth widened and sprouted jagged teeth. The hands grew claws, and its back humped. What had appeared to be clothes became armoured scales, and a row of spikes burst out of its back. Corbie and Lindholm trained their guns on the creature and quickly backed away.

  "Forget the guns," said DeChance. "I already tried that. There's a better way."

  She concentrated, focusing all her esp into a single burst of hate and rage, and threw it at the creature. The alien shrank back, snarled once, and then turned and disappeared down the tunnel and into the darkness. They could hear it running for a while, and then even that faded away to nothing.

  DeChance leaned back against the tunnel wall, her eyes hot and moist. Corbie looked at her with concern. She hadn't looked well for some time, but there was no denying she looked worse now. Her face was horribly pale and dripping with sweat. Her eyes were sunk deep into her face, and her whole body seemed to be trembling. Corbie started to reach out a hand to her, but withdrew it when DeChance glared at him.

  "I'm fine. Just let me be."

  "Why haven't the aliens used esp against us before?" asked Lindholm.

  "I don't know," said DeChance. "I suppose esp varies as much in them as it does among humans. The sphere showed me what happened when they use it on each other, but it would take an extremely strong projective telepath to work on non-telepaths like you. Or perhaps the aliens are simply growing more powerful as the great device awakens. It's getting stronger all the time. It has been ever since . . ."

  "You awakened it," said Lindholm.

  "Oh yes," said DeChance bitterly. "I was the one who woke it up. I'm to blame. I'm to blame for everything that's happened here." Her voice began to rise sharply. "If I hadn't been a part of the Hell Squad, none of this would have happened. The device would have slept on undisturbed if it hadn't been for me, and you'd all have been perfectly safe!"

  "Take it easy," said Corbie soothingly. "No one's blaming you for anything. Right, Sven? If you hadn't triggered the device, some colonist with esp would have, and who knows how large a colony would have been endangered then?"

  DeChance said nothing. For a long moment the three of them just stood together in their little pool of light, looking out at the darkness.

  "Is this likely to happen again?" said Corbie finally. "If the aliens can tap into our minds, there's no telling what we might end up facing. All our nightmares, every bad dream we ever had, could be out there somewhere, just waiting for a chance to get at us. And I don't know about you two, but I've had some pretty awful dreams in my time."

  DeChance smiled crookedly. "Most of the aliens aren't that powerful, even with the device to back them up. What we're seeing are the aliens' nightmares, given shape and form."

  "How much further is it to the copper tower?" asked Lindholm.

  "Not far," said DeChance. "The tunnel shoul
d start sloping upwards soon, and then we can start thinking about getting out of here."

  "Can't be too soon for me," said Corbie. "My skin's starting to pucker from the smell."

  They moved on into the darkness, splashing through the foul water. From time to time Corbie thought he saw things swimming in the water, things the size of his fist that seemed to be mostly teeth and eyes. Corbie said nothing to the others. As long as the things in the water kept their distance, he was happy to live and let live, and he didn't want to upset the esper. The tunnel slanted sharply upwards, and Corbie allowed himself to think hopeful thoughts about breathing fresh air again. And then the esper stopped suddenly, and the marines stopped with her. Corbie's heart sank. Every time DeChance stopped like that it meant something really unpleasant was about to happen. The esper stared into the darkness ahead, frowning unhappily.

  "There's something ahead, isn't there?" said Lindholm.

  The esper nodded. "It's big. Very big."

  "It can't be that big," objected Corbie. "The tunnel's only seven feet high."

  "It's very big and very powerful," said the esper, as though she hadn't heard him. "I don't think our weapons are going to be enough this time."

  "Great," said Corbie. "Just great. What are we going to do now, turn round and run back the way we've come?"

  A great roar sounded out of the darkness, deafeningly loud, echoing and re-echoing from the stonework. Corbie levelled his disrupter at the tunnel ahead, and then fell back a step involuntarily as a gust of wind hit him in the face. Lindholm and the esper fell back with him as the alien appeared in the lantern light. It filled the tunnel completely, a huge mound of leathery flesh, with a ring of unblinking eyes surrounding a drooling maw.

  "It's like some monstrous worm," whispered DeChance. "It's dozens of feet long. I can't sense the end of it."

  The maw widened suddenly, growing and growing until the alien seemed nothing but a huge mouth, filling the tunnel from wall to wall. There was a smell of rotting meat as the creature exhaled. Corbie had a sudden vision of the three of them running down the tunnel, chased by a ravening maw that left no room for escape. He aimed his gun into the mouth. DeChance suddenly grabbed his arm.

  "No! Aim for the ceiling! We're only a few feet from the surface. Blast us a way out of here and bring the tunnel down between us and the alien!"

  Corbie fired unhesitatingly at the ceiling. The energy beam smashed through the thick stonework, and daylight fell into the tunnel as part of the ceiling collapsed. Debris rained down around the Squad, and they had to shelter under their force shields until it stopped. The alien roared again, and pressed forward another yard, scooping up the broken stone into its drooling maw. Lindholm fired his gun into the creature's mouth. It roared deafeningly, and lurched forward another few feet.

  "Forget it!" snapped DeChance, turning off her force shield. "We have to get out of here while we can."

  Lindholm nodded quickly. He put away his gun, turned off his shield, and made a stirrup with his hands. DeChance put her foot into it, and the marine boosted her up into the hole in the ceiling. The esper found a handhold, and pulled herself up and out onto the street above. Corbie turned off his force shield and followed her out the same way. The alien surged forward, crushing the stones on the floor under its immense bulk. Lindholm calmly pulled a concussion grenade from his bandolier, primed it, and tossed it into the gaping mouth, which snapped shut reflexively. Lindholm pushed some of the larger pieces of rubble together, climbed up onto them and pulled himself up into the hole. Corbie and DeChance hauled him out onto the street.

  He rolled quickly away from the opening, and seconds later there was a muffled roar from below as the grenade went off. Blood and gore fountained up out of the hole, and cracks spread across the street.

  "Nice one, Sven," said Corbie.

  The three of them got to their feet and looked around them. The sun had sunk almost out of sight, and the green sky was darkening towards night. The city had become little more than shapes and shadows, with the occasional lighted window. The copper tower loomed above its surrounding buildings, less than half a mile away. Corbie shivered, and checked that his heating elements were set at maximum.

  "Still no sign of the rest of the Squad," said Lindholm. "I hope they're having an easier time than us."

  Corbie sniffed. "They probably had an attack of common sense and got the hell out of here."

  "We'd better keep moving," said DeChance. "There are aliens nearby. More than I can count. They know we're here, and they're closing in on us."

  She ran down the street without stopping to see if the marines were following. They looked quickly at each other, shared a sour smile, and hurried after her. From close at hand came the screams and cries of pursuing aliens, as the first of the unsteady creatures spilled onto the street after the fleeing Squad.

  And in the copper tower, the great device waited patiently for them to come to it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Sleep of Reason

  Monsters roamed the city streets. Some flew in the air, while others burrowed in the earth. Creatures formed by madness and obsession made their way to the copper tower, summoned by a voice they could not refuse. They no longer remembered why, but the echo of that voice moved within them, whatever shape they wore, and always would. The sun had fallen, and darkness lay across the city. Strange lights burned in the silent buildings as more and more creatures awoke from their centuries-long sleep and went out into the streets. Hideous shapes crept and crawled between structures they no longer recognised, in a city they had long since forgotten. They had lived for centuries, and might live for centuries more, but they did not know it. The awful thing they had done to themselves had trapped them forever in the here and now; in a single endless moment of existence. They had forgotten what they were, and what they had hoped to be. Only the great device remembered. And it was insane.

  Hunter and Krystel ran down a twisting street, between stone monoliths with blazing windows and looming edifices of steel and crystal. The darkness hung around them like a listening stranger, and from every intersection they passed came more shapes and monstrosities to join the boiling pack that pursued them. Hunter was fighting for air, and his back and leg muscles screamed for rest, but he didn't dare slow his pace. The aliens were close on their heels, and drawing closer. The darkness hid most of the shapes that followed them, for which Hunter was grateful.

  A shining figure stepped out of a stone monolith and reached for Krystel with phosphorescent hands. She cut sideways with her sword without slowing her pace, and severed the nearest hand. It fell sparking and sputtering into the street, and the creature howled wordlessly. Hunter thought briefly about using his disrupter, but decided against it as the alien fell back, clutching at its ruined arm with its remaining hand. The disrupter's energy crystals were running low, and he only used the gun now when there was no other choice.

  He ran on after Krystel, hurdling the twitching hand in the street without slowing. His breath burned in his lungs, and sweat ran down his heaving sides. He glared at the Investigator. She'd been running and fighting just as much as him, and she wasn't even breathing hard. She was even smiling slightly as she shook the last creature's shimmering blood from her sword. Hunter shook his head wearily and blinked away the sweat that ran down into his eyes. It seemed some of the things he'd heard about Investigators and their training weren't exaggerations after all.

  A winged shape dropped out of the sky towards Hunter, its wings flapping loosely as its yard-long beak stabbed down at his face. He raised his force shield above his head, and the beak shattered on the energy field. The alien screamed and flapped away, blood dripping from its ruined face. A barbed tentacle shot up out of the pursuing pack and pulled the alien down. The pack fell on it and tore it apart. Hunter and Krystel ran on.

  The copper tower stood tall and imposing against the skyline; an enigmatic silhouette against the alien night. Hunter scowled at it. He'd chosen the tower as a
rendezvous point because it could be clearly seen from anywhere in the city, but he was beginning to wish he'd chosen somewhere closer. He'd lost track of how long he'd been running, but the tower seemed as far away as ever. Something moved in a nearby alleyway, and the Investigator turned her gun on it.

  "No, Krystel!" Hunter knocked her arm aside at the last moment. "They're friends."

  Krystel lowered her gun as Megan DeChance and the two marines plunged out of the alleyway to run alongside them. They all managed a quick nod of greeting to each other, but none of them had the breath for conversation. They ran on, with Krystel and the esper leading the way. Hunter looked at the two marines, and winced. Their uniforms were torn and stained with blood. Fatigue had put bruises under their eyes, and made their movements heavy and plodding. They didn't look like they could run much further. Hunter smiled sourly. He didn't suppose he looked much better.

  But he and the rest of the Squad would run as far as they had to; because the only alternative was to lie down and die. Hunter looked at the esper's back and frowned. He'd only caught a brief glimpse of DeChance's face, but she'd looked to be in an even worse state than the marines. If there was a weak link in the Squad, she was it. And valuable as she was, Hunter hoped she wouldn't fall. None of them had the strength left to carry her. The esper began to speak, and Hunter made himself pay attention.

  In fits and starts, with many pauses for breath, DeChance explained the history of the city, and what had happened there, and for the first time Hunter and Krystel understood the true nature of the aliens, and the significance of the copper tower. Hunter had a hundred questions he wanted to ask, but he didn't have the breath for even one. The tower suddenly loomed up before him at the end of the street, and he fixed his attention on that. The Squad pounded down the street, and skidded to a halt at the base of the tower. The two marines turned to face the pursuing aliens, and fired their disrupters. Several aliens fell screaming to the ground as the energy beams cut through them, and the rest of the pack fell on them. Hunter turned to find DeChance and the Investigator silently studying the copper tower.