Songs From Spider Street (14 page)

She stopped
in mid flow and then added: “It’s not a colony. It’s a religious retreat.”

“Yeah, whatever.
But why’d they choose our moon?”

Lise paused
for a moment before answering. “ I think they were offered it jointly by the UN
and the Renewed Republic of the Americas. Somebody obviously made a lot of
money out of it. I mean, why else would they do it?”

Tomos
frowned. “I don’t trust them. I mean, it’s so far from their home world.”

“Yeah. I
think the clue is in the word ‘retreat’.”

“Hmmnnn.”
Tomos continued frowning.

Lise stood
and began dressing. Tomos lay back, luxuriating in the afterglow of his orgasm.
He stretched himself, groaning with the effort and pleasure of it.

When he
opened his eyes Lise, now fully clothed, was standing over him. “Hey. Don’t
just lie there. We’ve got to sort out who we push this stuff out to!”

Tomos smiled
up at her. “There’s no rush. No rush. We’ve got it, that’s the main thing.”

Lise shook
her head and walked off. She busied herself with something in her flight bag.

He looked at
her round rear under her tight skirt as she bent over. She reminded him of
another blonde. His first girl, in fact. Back in the settlements on the
outskirts of the city, where he’d grown up. Sylve had an urgent need for some
crack (God, remember that old stuff?!) and he had the means whereby she could
get it. All she had to do was be nice to him.

She’d been
scared – but then she was scared of everything – and he’d strung her along for
nearly two months before she was found dead in a stairwell. Overdose the
autopsy said, but an overdose doesn’t give you a broken neck. Despite the
police suspicion at the time, his conscience was clear. He hadn’t touched her.
Even back then, that was someone else’s job.

He still
thought about Sylve often. Even though her looks were beginning to suffer, her
hair was soooo blonde. Since then he’d always thought blondes were something
special.

Tomos dreamed
of her and drifted off. He could hear Lise shuffling around somewhere in the
background. God, I wish she’d stop, he thought, before drifting off further. To
where the sound didn’t bother him.

Tomos woke with a gentle start. His one arm had gone dead where he’d lain
on it and a thin string of drool silvered his skin. He scrambled up and looked
at the clock. He estimated he’d been asleep for about 30 minutes.

He looked
around but Lise was nowhere to be seen, though he could smell her perfume.

He sat on the
edge of the bed and shook himself awake as he pulled on his clothes.

Now he
realised that there was a faint murmuring coming from the bathroom. Lise? She
must be on the phone even though she was talking softly. That wasn’t like her.
And why was she making a call from the bathroom? Her favorite spot was perched
next to the coffee machine in the kitchen.

He pushed
open the door. “Hey, who are you talking to?”

Lise looked
up, shocked, and Tomos knew something was wrong. He sprang forward and grabbed
her wrist, twisting the phone towards him. Before she managed to thumb the
image to black he caught a glimpse of a familiar face topped by a distinctive
hairstyle.

“Randall!” he
hissed. “What did …?” He pulled her towards him by her wrist. She stumbled
slightly, falling against him.

Clarity came
quickly. “With
him
? You bitch! You … this is just …”

She put out
her hand to placate him, ward him off. “It’s not about
that
. Not sex. It’s
about something … higher, more important … I can’t explain it to you because …”

His look of
disbelief grew more profound: “He was my friend. Why couldn’t you leave him
alone? My friend.”

She drew a
breath of relief as he paced away from her. Then a revelation seemed to come to
him and he turned quickly. “Oh, I get it! Yeah. You were going to cut me out of
the deal. You and he were going to sell the Musel between you. With its street
value you would both have been set up for a great time in the sun – just
fucking each other stupid all day; laughing at me for being an easy mark.
Leaving me in the shade.”

She looked
exasperated. “No, no. Look, It’s not like that …”

He started
towards her, his face getting steadily darker with fury.

Now Tomos
hated her beauty, her perfection, her faithlessness. What made her think she
could get away with treating him like this?

He pulled his
pistol, raising it to shoulder level as she began to back away towards the bed.
Lise’s eyes widened as she struck out at him, hitting him in the throat as soon
as he was close enough. It didn’t stop him. She brought her knee up
simultaneously, aiming for his groin.

Tomos grabbed
her by the throat as he turned sideways to avoid her jabbing knee. Fear filled
her eyes as he brought the gun close to her lips. He stopped, speaking quietly
but with venom: “I’m not going to shoot you. No point in ruining my $3 million
Ellman carpet over you, you slut!” Instead he rammed the the gun into her
mouth. Lise yelped with pain as two teeth shattered.

The gun was
wedged in her mouth, pushing against the back of her throat. She’s hating this
he thought, as the gun stuck into her, filling up her mouth like a big metal
and plastic phallus. “Just suck this for me, one last time,” he hissed, jerking
the object back out of her mouth, past her blood speckled lips, dripping with
red drool. A gasping, gurgling cough escaped her as he punched it forward once
more with all his might. She flew backwards, an arc of blood and dentine
leaving her mouth, spattering onto the sheets. The gun flew away from him,
clattering onto the side cabinet and coming to rest on a pillow; her pillow.

He stood,
breathing raggedly and staring at the one part of Lise still visible from where
she had landed. Her right leg showed above the edge of the bed, her foot at an
angle, her shiny black shoe hanging comically from her big toe. Tomos almost
laughed as he edged around the bed.

He gasped. He’d
never killed anyone before but he didn’t have to look twice. It was obvious she
was gone.

Lise’s head
lay against the wall. But something seemed to have gone wrong with it. Not just
death, he’d seen that before; something else. Her features had changed. They
were longer, more angular, less attractive. Maybe less human.

Her hair had
changed colour, too. It had changed from a radiant blonde to a duller shade,
approaching drabness.

Tomos hadn’t
wanted this. He’d just wanted to mark her, teach her a lesson. To make sure she’d
remember her betrayal and to ensure that she wore the trace of it for good and
for everyone to see.

Tomos began
to hyperventilate. Suddenly he felt bad. Very bad. He’d never killed anyone
before. He’d come close, once or twice, but this was
it
. It was only
when he put up his hand to loosen his collar that he realised Lise had taken a
deep gouge out of his neck when she had struck him. She always kept her nails
razor sharp. The thick warmth now seeping through his clothes was evidence of
that. He lurched into the bathroom.

Dabbing at
the wound ineffectually, he suddenly realised that the case sitting on the
table in the next room offered the perfect solution to his problem. The Musel
would kill the pain and give him enough strength to get to a hospital. It’d
probably staunch the blood flow too; he’d noticed that minor wounds healed a
lot more quickly since he’d been using it.

Crashing into
the door frame, Tomos staggered into the bedroom and found the packet of the
drug he’d discarded earlier. He tipped it up, emptying it into his mouth. A
larger dose than usual – normally four flakes was enough - but this was an
emergency, he thought.

Within a few
moments a feeling of well-being flooded through him. Tomos breathed deeply,
savoring the feeling of air filling his lungs as the pain ebbed away like a
tide going out, steadily but surely. He stretched himself back to his full
height and noticed that the feeling of panic about the events of a few minutes
ago had left him along with the pain.

Now he had to
make plans. Should he just disappear, leave his apartment and Lise’s body to
the law? He didn’t have time to look for Randall. Anyway it was Lise he was
really angry with about that. (Christ, he didn’t even know they knew each
other!) The fact that he had all the Musel – and all the profit – to himself
would be revenge enough, he decided.

He grabbed
Lise’s case containing the drug and clicked it shut. He’d head for his old
stamping ground at the settlements for a few days. He’d dress down and blend in
with no problem; it’s where he was from. Once things got a little quieter, he’d
sneak back here and prepare for a more permanent departure.

He drew in a
sharp breath as a lance of pain shot through his guts. He grabbed a chair to
steady himself. He braced himself for a repeat but it didn’t come. Resuming his
journey to the door, he got two steps before a sensation like a huge mudslide
in his chest wrenched him to his knees. He groaned, gasped for breath and fell
on his side.

What the hell
was this? The Musel should have ensured he was good for a few hours at least.
But this pain was different to that caused by the wounds Lise had inflicted on
him. This felt more permanent.

He lay there
for a few minutes, then decided he could risk getting to his feet. Carefully he
raised himself to his knees, then grasped the edge of the sofa to pull himself
up.

Tomos was
puzzled, frightened. Was this some neurological disease that had simply picked
this moment to strike? One that had been waiting inside him for years? Or
perhaps some sort of virulent viral infection that was doing the rounds?

Then it
dawned on him. The memory winked on like a beacon, lighting up the path he didn’t
even know he was on. One that led to a place that froze his insides solid with
fear.

Musel. The
Tepnesevil. Now he recalled her words, repeated from an old news feature. Used
by the top level of the theocratic hierarchy during the ceremony of
transformation. Only used         after years of seclusion to purify the soul
for fear of becoming something …

He staggered
to the mirror. His skin was changing, hanging loosely from his flesh. He
stretched the skin from his arm across the surface of the mirror. It covered it
easily. It was nearly transparent. The flesh beneath was taking on a
translucent quality.

Lise! The
bitch must have been one of them. One of their priestesses. I was never to be
her partner … just her victim. She just fed me the Musel to see me change, he
thought. And Randall. Was he one of them, too? And why me? And how many more
like me? Jesus!! There was no time now to find out.

He was
transforming. Becoming something new. Sweat trickled into his mouth and the
half-burnt flavour tasted of fear. Fear of becoming something …

What was he
becoming? His pupils, now oddly shaped, dilated as he saw the changes begin …

The signs had hypnotised him from the first.

While
wandering the high dunes two weeks ago, Eber had spied them, shimmering in the
rising heat. They were only visible from up here or from the air. Any lower down
and they just looked like a collection of small rocks jumbled together.

The strange
shapes marked out on the slanted rock plateau nagged at Eber, reminding him of
something. It was something fundamental but was it just out of reach, an itch
in the back of his skull that he had no way of scratching.

He didn’t
know if they were language or art, or even who had made them. Nobody did.

If they had
been made by the previous inhabitants of the planet it was all they had left
behind. Their only trace.

Eber had spent
an afternoon clambering over them, tracing along the patterns until darkness
came and the chill of the three moons had crept into him, driving him back to
his hideaway.

He’d found
out that what looked like rough carvings from up here were really very intricate
close to, made up of small rocks laid together like tessera – a mosaic without
meaning, at least to him and his kind.

The loops and
curves of the markings were punctuated by rounded, shallow hollows. As the day
progressed shadows crawled slowly in and out of them like slow desert creatures
wary of being spotted. Eber speculated that the hollows might be the equivalent
of punctuation marks; it added nothing to his understanding of what they might
mean.

He’d walked
away from them feeling a sense of defeat, a loss that would have been
impossible to put into words. Perhaps that was what the markings were trying to
express as well, either in an alien language or symbolically.

Forcing his
eyes away from the markings he wrapped his cloak tightly about him, hoping for
respite from the heat, and headed on. He’d left himself plenty of time – partly
to escape the worst of the day’s heat and partly to avoid the exhaustion he’d
felt on the previous occasion after leaving himself too little time to rest.

An hour later
his destination appeared on the horizon, long and high.

Now Eber
could afford to sit and rest. He flipped open the thin box of Teplin and
slipped the tiny piece of confection between his teeth. The instantly cool
taste and slight narcotic effect helped to dissipate his exhaustion slightly.

He let his
thoughts drift and as always they drifted to Eleann. She was the one bright
spot in his life since coming to this gods-forsaken planet from Ofauick.

He had fled
at the business end of a nasty misunderstanding involving the Ofauicket
planetary governor, a knife and some stolen platinum lock plates destined for
military use. Oh, yes … and the governor’s daughter. Actually, now he thought
about it, that was where the knife had come in. But it was a game. She’d agreed
to it, eagerly. And then she’d broken the rules. Simple as that.

Eleann had
saved him … almost. He liked to think of it that way. She’d been the medical
activist assigned to him after he’d crashed his stolen transport near the
southern peninsula’s only major city, Ankot.

He’d hoped
the crash would result in enough facial damage to require a quick cosmetic –
just enough to hide his identity, to the naked eye at least. Broken arms and a
fractured jaw just weren’t good enough.

He would have
to slip away from the city. Her small face with its close-cut hairstyle filled
his mind while he was making plans - together with the perfect curve of her
back as she arched upwards over his bed, her small breasts tugged higher by the
movement. He was sure she’d registered his interest and took the risk of
contacting her just before he’d skipped Ankot. He was only a couple of nights
late leaving the city and nobody saw him at her apartment, he was sure.

Eleann had
found out two days later that the legal activists’ investigators had been
asking questions around the medical hotel, puzzled at why Eber’s transport had
no cargo and only one crew member. At least his fake pass data had kept them at
bay for nearly two weeks. She had been impressed by that.

Eber had found
a hideaway in the deep desert. It was a block of buildings built into a rocky
outcrop. The bare rooms smelt of propellant and he guessed it used to be a
military outpost.

He’d managed
to get a message to Eleann via a Postloni trader who seemed uninterested in
Eber’s presence alone in that remote region. He’d seemed very interested in the
last of Eber’s stolen platinum. No questions were asked.

This would be
his third rendezvous with Eleann.

Another hour
brought him to his destination. He stood staring up at the huge structure, as
red as the sands that surrounded it. Much of the outer wall had collapsed under
the pressures of time and sand storms but it was still impressive.

The carved
red blocks tumbled over each other, some half-buried in the creeping sand. They
acted as steps to gain access to the intact inner sections of the house.

The huge
mansion had been built by the water plexilionnaire Gilles Balatan-Liantkk in
the days when the essential fluid had to be artificially created by huge
subterranean plants of the planet’s third moon. But water is heavy, bulky stuff
and the transport costs eventually eroded the fortunes of the half-Human,
half-Postloni entrepreneur. His disgrace and suicide had started a financial
panic that had sent many colonists back to their home worlds.

Now Teppe was
sparsely populated. “And thank gods for that,” Eber often thought. This world’s
failing economy was the perfect place for him to hide and this former fantasy
palace was the perfect playground. Eleann felt safer meeting him this far from
the city.

Eber gazed
out through the broken walls. He could see a sand storm on the horizon, heading
away from him.

He clambered
out onto the highest terrace at the front of the old mansion. He picked his way
across to the front, careful to avoid the huge wells. Once a showpiece of
hydroponic extravagance to create a lush garden in the desert’s heart, now they
were just a good vantage point.

Eber scanned
the skies to the west – towards Ankot. Nothing.

He didn’t
feel too exposed on the terrace in his sand-caked clothes. By the time anyone
got close enough to spot him he’d be back inside. Besides, only Eleann would
head this way; there was nothing out here but the ruins, thanks to
Balatan-Liantkk’s desire for solitude. An ideal location for him to indulge his
taste for orgiastic excess.

He sat
scanning the horizon until his eyes stang in the rising heat and he went into
the relative cool of the interior, still thinking of Eleann.

He waited for
her in soundless, slack anticipation.

Eventually he
became bored and, feeling the nervous afterglow of the Teplin start to bite,
began to pace the ruined mansion. He knew that another piece of Teplin would
take the edge off, but then he risked dehydration, and that could be lethal out
here.

He scanned
the huge hallway and thought of the overwhelming ambition of its builder. The
poor old sod would have been put out of business in a few years by the Cianmant’s
matter messaging systems even if his business hadn’t failed, he mused. “Overtaken
by progress. Aren’t we all?” he muttered.

“Very
philosophical,” came a voice from behind him. “You shouldn’t talk to yourself.
It shows neural misalignment.”

Eleann
clambered down over the broken wall. Eber hugged her tightly. “Thank gods you
came,” he whispered.

Eleann
dropped a large bag behind her as Eber crushed her to him. “Hey, let me
breathe.”

She still had
her medical activist’s harness on and clicked the small latches to release it. “That’s
better. Why wouldn’t I come?” she asked, smoothing her hair back from her eyes.

Eber
shrugged. “It’s not exactly safe, is it?”

She smiled
sweetly, inclining her head on one side as if to say ‘that’s the fun part,
stupid’. She stooped to the bag.

“I brought
some water tubes,” she said, rummaging. “They’re a bit warm I’m afraid. And
food … best I could get.”

She stood to
face Eber. “Here. I got some nutrient spray for you.”

Eber
grimaced, obviously confused.

She popped
the top off the tube, miming the action. “For under your tongue. In case your
food runs out.” She held it out to him.

He didn’t
take it.

“You might
need it. Just in case, hmm?”

He nodded
then took it from her. “Thanks. Didn’t want to think about that but …”

She smiled
sadly at him, wrinkling her brow. “Oh, I forgot … I’ve got a present for you.”
She rummaged in the bag before coming up empty. “Hmmmm. Must have left it in
the trackar,” she said, starting to head for the opening.

He leapt
after her, grabbing her arm and pulling her around. “You brought a trackar?” he
hissed, angrily. “A blind man could follow your trail! Why didn’t you get a
hover?”

“Because,”
she growled, “I couldn’t get one, they are
all
registered and fuel is
gods-damned expensive – and I didn’t have the credit.” She kept her teeth
clenched after speaking.

He released
her arm. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. I should be grateful you came
at all.”

She pushed
herself against him. All thoughts of his gift were forgotten after the third
kiss and they spent the next hour making love with a gentle intensity that Eber
now thought of as typically her.

When Eleann awoke the chill of the night had crept into the house and the
first moon was above the horizon. She rolled away from Eber and dressed
quickly.

She peered
into the darkness at the far end of the giant hall. It was heavily influenced
by Postlon architecture, which she’d always found confusing when it wasn’t
ugly, and it threw up odd shadows. She was sure she could hear something.

Eleann sat on
the floor and rummaged in her bag for a large light-cube. The shadows sped away
when she struck it open.

Behind her,
Eber groaned and rolled over. “Who turned the lights on?” he croaked, still
half asleep.

Eleann
glanced back at him. “I thought I heard something.” Eber was at her side in
what seemed like seconds, already half dressed.

“There’s
no-one here – not this far out.” It was half a question.

She looked at
him with concern. “I’m going to have a look.”

He half
stepped in front of her. “Well, don’t go alone.”

She led the
way into a tall corridor at the far end of the hall. She was sure this was
where it had come from.

“What sort of
sound was it?” he whispered close to her ear before kissing her on it.

Eleann couldn’t
help smiling. “A sort of thumping … a rhythm. Listen!”

Eber strained
his ears but couldn’t hear anything. “I can’t hear a thing.”

After nearly
20 minutes of wandering through rooms and corridors Eleann began to think it
was something she could feel inside her head rather than hear. But she knew how
insane that sounded and kept it to herself.

Finally Eber
became tired of their pointless rambling.

“I don’t
think we’re going to find anything,” he said, leaning against a large carved
ornament.

Eleann had
disappeared into the next room, taking the light-cube with her.

“Hey … come
back with the light,” he protested, starting to follow her.

“Have you
ever seen anything like this before?”

A dirty
chuckle began at the back of his throat. He thought she was about to play one
of the sex games that was so typical of their relationship so far.

The sound
stopped in his throat as he saw for the first time the tall fluted columns and
knotted limbs of something inexplicable.

Eber let his
eyes roam over the strange sight before him. Even though it seemed to stretch
out to touch all the extremities of the large chamber, its heart was a smoothly
complex shape nestling at its centre. Largely ignorant of cultural matters,
Eber puzzled over whether it was sculpture, architecture or some sort of
unusual toy.

“It feels
weird in here. Heavy, somehow,” said Eleann. Eber didn’t respond, too engrossed
in their new find.

On closer
examination what looked like an odd instrument panel convinced him he was
looking at some sort of machine. But he couldn’t begin to guess its use.

His head
began to throb and he wondered if the air pressure was greater here than in the
rest of the house. It felt like an itch at the back of his head, one he had no
way of scratching.

The machine
didn’t seem to have any relation to Balatan-Liantkk’s ancestry. It belonged to
neither the cultures of Earth or Postlon, as far as Eber could see. Though
there was something oddly familiar about it.

He shrugged. “I’m
no expert,” he mumbled, wiping his hand across the curved flank of the machine
and dislodging a thick layer of vermilion sand.

Under the
sand lay a depressed panel and, as Eber looked more closely, the panel
contained writing. Scraping away more sand, he recognised the lines, loops and
hollows of the markings in the high dunes.

She was
pulling him away now. “Leave that. Come on,” she sighed, reaching around to
grab his penis through his clothing. “I need you now.”

He tried to
pull away. “Look …”

His
resistance stopped as he began to feel the blood pound in his head and his
penis begin to stiffen. He found it impossible to concentrate as Eleann leant
back against the machine’s dark surface, pulling her blue bodysuit apart with
one hand and discarding it. “I want it now,” she hissed, rubbing herself
between the legs.

Eber tried to
think, knew this wasn’t like Eleann, but his body didn’t care.

He quickly
unhooked his clothing and dropped it to the floor. He was shocked at the size
and strength of his erection, a bead of stickiness already gathered at its end.
Taking his penis in his hand, Eber felt he wanted to use it to hurt Eleann as
much as make love to her.