Necropath (37 page)

“And in so doing grant Unity to the sacrificial victims,” Sinton called out with rage. “You do not know, Vaughan. You have never experienced the One.”

“I know that the Vaith are carnivorous beasts. I know that what you’re doing is wrong.”

Sinton shook his head, his smile patronising. “What we are doing is perpetuating the only true way. We give believers to the One; we nourish the Godhead of the Vaith so that future generations might know the truth. In two years, I give myself to the Vaith, my mission completed. Others, initiated into the way, will take my place and organise the rituals and services.”

“Your god is evil, Sinton. The Vaith are using you. Your victims are no more than drug addicts needing their fix.”

“The Vaith are truly demi-gods, Vaughan. They are an ancient race, the last of a species almost as old as the galaxy. They travelled between the stars in the early years of their evolution, seeking knowledge, seeking the truth. When they came upon it, when they discovered the universal truth of theOne, they moved from star to star, bringing that truth to lesser races. They are wise beyond our belief, Vaughan—they are in contact with the ultimate reality that underpins this realm of illusion. Through them, and only through them, can we come to join in that truth.”

“Your thinking is just as flawed as that of every other religious maniac on Earth.”

“Spoken like a true ignoramus. You could be initiated, Vaughan. Why not join us? We can initiate you with rhapsody that will allow you to share in the truth.”

“We make our own truths, Sinton. I want none of yours. Now, tell me where the Vaith are.”

Sinton smiled. “I would sooner die,” he said.

“And by dying now miss out on the chance of unity?”

“I have been initiated. I am a true believer. I will be granted salvation without sacrifice to the Vaith.”

“You’re more the deluded fool than I took you for.” Vaughan shook his head. “I pity you, Sinton. I really do. Now, give me your shield.”

Sinton appeared unperturbed. “Take it from me, Vaughan.”

“I’m warning you—”

“If you want the shield, take it.”

Vaughan struck Sinton across the face with the pistol, knocking him to the ground. “Now roll over, face down!”

Sinton obeyed, grunting. Vaughan knelt beside him and, the pistol held to his head, frisked the Commander with his free hand. “Now roll over— slowly! Onto your back!”

Sinton turned over, glaring. Vaughan aimed the gun at his temple, felt in the pockets of his shirt and trousers. He could find no shield. He searched again, Sinton watching him.

“You won’t find it, Vaughan.”

“Shut it!”

“I must warn you that my pilot was told to follow me after thirty minutes if I did not return. I should think that that thirty minutes is just about up by now.”

“Turn over!”

Sinton glared at him, defiant. Vaughan prodded him with his knife, helping him roll onto his stomach. He tried again, searching everywhere for the small oval shield.

If Sinton wasn’t carrying a portable shield, then he must have had one implanted. Vaughan placed a knee between the Commander’s shoulder-blades, pressing him further into the ground. He reached out and felt Sinton’s scalp through his wiry grey hair.

Sinton cried, “No!”

“Quiet!”

He struggled, yelling. “Help! Please, some—”

Vaughan put all his strength into the blow, hitting Sinton across the back of the head with the butt of the pistol, stunning him. It had the desired effect of silencing his cries.

Vaughan pressed his scalp, searching in desperation for the subcutaneous shield. He found it, at last, located at the base of the skull.

Sinton was moaning.

Vaughan took his augmentation-pin and inserted it into his own skull console. Then he drew his pocketknife, felt Sinton’s scalp for the raised area of the embedded shield, and sliced around it. Blood gushed over his fingers and Sinton cried out in pain. Vaughan made a three-sided cut, then applied pressure on the fourth side; slowly, a blood-smeared silver oval appeared from the back of the commander’s head.

Vaughan tossed the shield over the rail, into the sea, and as he did, Sinton’s thoughts came crashing into his mind.

He read the commander’s intentions—but he was too slow to act. Sinton forced a hand free, then dug his fist beneath his jaw, just above the collar of his uniform. A chunky ring administered just enough poison to end his existence, and Sinton sighed with relief as the drug coursed through him.

Vaughan shouted out and made a grab for Sinton’s spasming body, aware of the Commander’s fading thoughts as they faded away in an inexorable diminuendo of death.

He knelt above the body, knowing that if he probed now, dived into Sinton’s rapidly dwindling consciousness, then he would find what he wanted, where the Vaith were now located, and by doing so lives would be saved.

Bracing himself, crying in rage, Vaughan entered Sinton’s consciousness.

Already much of the commander’s mind was dysfunctioning; great swathes of memory and intellection were dead and blackened—terrifying areas of moribund neurones and misfiring synapses where before had been energy, vitality.

What remained of his dwindling consciousness was like a shattered mirror. As Vaughan dived he caught fleeting glimpses of fragmented images, shards of memory, falling towards the blackness of oblivion. In pain he chased the images, the stray and failing thoughts.

Childhood on Verkerk’s World: visions of mountains, the Falls... the people he had known, his parents... These guttered, vanished like extinguished candles, and Vaughan experienced the commander’s terror at what was happening to him.

He dived deeper, frantic now, beset on all sides by the vicarious terror of death.

He was overcome by a great wave that was Sinton’s faith: his devotion to the Vaith. He was bombarded by images of the Geiger Caves, of fellow Disciples worshipping the alien beings—together with the feeling of universal unity Sinton had gained from Communion.

He immersed himself in what remained of Sinton’s consciousness and searched for his knowledge of the Vaith on Bengal Station. Images like darting silver fish turned and escaped from him: he chased.

The Holosseum at Tavoy...

The face of the Chosen One...

The case in which the Vaith had been transported to Earth...

The Vaith itself, which Sinton saw, improbably, as a tall and shining humanoid form...

But where was it concealed on the Station?

The longer he remained riding the dead man’s mind, the greater the sense of impending personal annihilation became: he wanted to get out, to ascend to full consciousness and life once again. More than once he almost gave up, relinquished his hold on the fading awareness.

Sinton died slowly, moving inexorably towards oblivion, and Vaughan experienced the disintegration of Sinton’s belief—his dying terror at the knowledge that his faith in the Vaith, his assumption of some wondrous afterlife, had been no more than a cruel illusion. Despite himself, Vaughan felt an involuntary compassion for the man.

Then he had it.

Images of the Vaith’s bronze casing...

A place of worship deep within the station...

Between levels...

Restricted access...

Shards came at him like dream-images:

“No snooping guard will find it here...”

The final Communion at midnight tonight...

“The blessed sacrifice that will unite us all...”

Level Twelve-b...

Vaughan felt triumph surge through him. He liked the circularity of it; Level Twelve-b was, after all, where it had all begun.

Sinton was almost dead now, and Vaughan shared in the man’s terror. He cried out, experiencing again that which he had vowed he would never undergo, the intellectual comprehension that beyond this life, this realm of vitality, was an all-engulfing territory of absolute nothingness.

He kicked off, away from the oblivion, and ascended through the fathoms of Sinton’s failing consciousness in terror and in triumph.

He came to his senses to find himself kneeling above the body, taking in great breaths of air. He pulled out his augmentation-pin, felt an immediate and blessed relief. He regained his breath, tried to purge his mind of the events of the previous minutes.

He remained kneeling beside Sinton’s body for what seemed like an age, paralysed by fear and exhaustion. At last he dragged the body into the cover of nearby undergrowth, then tossed his knife and Sinton’s pistol over the rail into the ocean.

He stood and emerged self-consciously from the cover of the shrubbery. He hurried around the perimeter of the park, stopping at a fountain to wash the blood from his hands. He checked his handset. It was almost one o’clock, the time he had arranged to meet Rao at Nazruddin’s. He composed himself, left the park through a side entrance, and joined the crowd flowing along Chandi Road. He came to Nazruddin’s like a desert traveller to an oasis, slipped into his booth and ordered a beer.

By the third glass, he had managed to calm his nerves and stay his shaking hands.

* * * *

MENTAL PURITY

Dr. Rao arrived ten minutes later.

He bustled into the restaurant, saw Vaughan, and signalled a greeting with his walking stick. He carried a small, black case and placed it carefully on the table between them. “Apologies for my tardiness, Mr. Vaughan. You cannot begin to appreciate the difficulty I had in obtaining the merchandise you requested.”

Vaughan nodded, believing not a word of it.

Rao seated himself opposite Vaughan and ordered a lassi. “If you would care to inspect the goods...” he suggested.

Vaughan pulled the case from the table and placed it on his lap. He flipped open the two gold clasps and lifted the lid. Six silver grenades nestled like diamonds in the black velvet padding. Vaughan picked one out, weighing it in his palm; it had a satisfying heft, the weight of something that could wreak much destruction.

“The green button on the base is the primer. Depress that, and then depress the red button on the top. Six seconds later the grenade will detonate. I suggest that you put as much distance between yourself and your target, preferably with solid cover in between. It would be unfortunate indeed if I were to lose such a close business associate.”

“Don’t worry, Rao. I don’t intend to blow myself up.”