The Devil's Nebula (28 page)

“And can an infected person be...” – Lania searched for the right word – “uninfected?”

“We have no evidence that they can,” Villic replied, “but then you understand that our medical resources here are somewhat rudimentary.”

Lania stared through the entrance, past the squatting hulk of the Sleer to the supergiant. It had risen so that half of its colossal globe spanned the treetop horizon, giving off its slow-motion display of spouts and geysers.

Ed said, “So if Leah is taking Gorley, Choudri and the others downriver to the lair of the Weird at full sunrise” – he looked across at Langley and Villic – “what do you intend to do?”

Villic hesitated, looked quickly at Langley. The young man said, “We will follow them downriver and with luck apprehend them before they reach the system of caves where the Weird have their portal.”

Lania echoed, “The portal?”

“Deep underground, in a system of catacombs, is the interface between this realm and that of the Weird. We hope to apprehend them before they reach the opening to the caves. Their lair is swarming with Sleer and... other things.”

“Are you armed?”

Villic said, “Not well. We have crossbows of our own devising, but little else. We’ll take tame Sleer along with us.”

Lania looked across at Ed. She could see that he was thinking through some strategy. He said, “Take us with you.”

Langley looked at Villic. The latter said, “He has experience of combat, and the girl – she was once with the Expansion militia.”

Lania stared at the telepath, with an odd feeling of violation. She looked at Ed, caught his glance and shook her head. A trip downriver to the lair of the Weird was madness; what might the two of them achieve that the Outcasts alone could not?

Villic said, “We are few in number. Your assistance would be invaluable. We would arm you, such as we can, and protect you as best we could.”

“This is madness!” she began.

Ed looked at her. “Then remain here, Lania. But I’m going.”

Villic smiled, even before she voiced her thoughts.

“I’m not leaving you, Ed. When I signed up with you, the agreement was that we stick together through thick and thin, good times and bad. I’m not walking out on you now, okay?”

He nodded. “Thank you, Lania. I’m not taking this decision lightly. It’s something that needs doing.”

Langley looked at her. “If the infected humans reach the portal with the information they’re carrying, then there’s no telling how that will empower the Weird.”

She stared at him. “I’m not arguing, am I? I said I’m coming!”

Ed reached out and squeezed her hand – and that, she thought, was something he wouldn’t have done just a week ago. She looked across at Villic, but he’d averted his gaze.

Ed said, “And the
Hawk
? They want the ship, right?”

Langley said, “Technically, they have it. All they need to do is to ensure that the humans who came in it are unable to leave aboard it.”

“In other words, they want us dead?” Ed said.

Villic nodded. “Every one of you who isn’t infected. Then the Weird can take the ship whenever they wish.”

“There are two militia-men still aboard the
Hawk
,” Lania said.

“The chances are that at least one of the two is infected,” Villic said. “It would make sense to have their own aboard, once the rest of the crew are out of the way. My guess is that one of the remaining militia-men can also pilot the ship.”

Ed looked at the two Outcasts. “What the hell can we do about that?”

Villic said, “If we make a slight detour, we can take in the
Hawk
before we reach the fissure. It won’t take me long to scan the militia, and see if they are infected.”

“And if they are?” Lania asked.

Langley nodded. “You get them to open the ship, and we will do the rest.”

Ed nodded. “Very well. When do we set off?”

Langley glanced out at the rising sun. “We have an hour before full up, when Leah sets off downriver. That should leave us just enough time to get to the
Hawk
before we give chase.”

Something flipped in Lania’s gut. She’d thanked providence that Gina had not been left behind in the
Hawk
. But, of course, it was entirely possible that Gina was infected by the mind-parasite.

She felt sick.

Langley and Villic stood and made for the exit. “If you would care to follow us. We’ll gather fruit and water for the journey, then set off.”

The two men stepped onto the walkway; the Sleer rose before them and led the way.

Lania lay a hand on Ed’s sleeve as he was about to step from the globe.

“I know why you want to follow the others, Ed. And it’s more than just to kill the infected, isn’t it?”

He smiled, grimly. “You’ve become a mind-reader, all of a sudden.”

“Maatja, right?”

He hesitated. “You were honest with me, earlier. Remind me to be as honest with you when all this is over.” He made to step onto the walkway, then stopped and turned to her. “There’s also another reason, Lania, but this isn’t really the right time.”

She watched him duck through the exit and walk along the swaying timber bridge, then hurried after him.

T
HEY STOPPED ON
a grey, pitted raft slung between the treetops, which looked like a growth of fungus. Men, women and children occupied the raft, watching curiously as Langley and Villic crammed fruit and gourds of water into backpacks fashioned from woven vines and leaves.

The two Sleer crouched nearby, staring at the dome of the rising sun.

Villic stood and shouldered his pack, then stared across at the Sleer. Instantly, both creatures rose and sloped off towards the centre of the fungal raft, to a where a deep dimple pocked the grey tegument. As Lania watched, the dimple dilated, became a dark hole, and first one Sleer and then the next stepped into it and disappeared.

Lania looked at Langley, who was doing his best to hide his amusement. “An elevator to the jungle floor,” he said. “After you. It’s perfectly safe.”

She recalled the hovering trunks they had seen on first traversing the jungle floor. “It’s alive?”

Langley nodded. “But you’ll be happy to know it can’t digest anything bigger than a naar fruit.”

She stepped towards the opening and peered into it. The shaft angled down at perhaps forty-five degrees; she could see the domed head of the Sleer disappearing into the dimness. She stepped forward and instantly lost her footing. She fell feet first with a cry of alarm, then felt the flesh of the creature shrink around her.

She was carried down at speed in a peristaltic wave-front, aware only of the cloying heat in the confines of the creature’s trunk and the loamy stench of its breath.

A minute later her descent slowed and her feet hit the jungle floor. She gained her balance and ducked and the trunk lifted up and over her head. The Sleer were nearby, waiting patiently, crouched like casual sprinters awaiting starter’s orders. She stared upwards. The jungle canopy was two hundred metres overhead, with the thick column of the animal’s trunk dropping through the dappled sunlight. As she watched, she made out three bulges working their way down the sinuous tube, and first Ed, then Langley and Villic were disgorged onto the jungle floor.

Langley took his bearings and pointed through the undergrowth. They set off, following the darting Sleer. Villic, with the privilege of age, rode upon the leading Sleer’s back, a comical sight with his scrawny legs wrapped around the creature’s varicose torso.

Lania and Ed kept pace at a jog. She considered what they had learned so far and what might lie ahead. It was perhaps best not to look too far into the future – certainly not to dwell on what might await them at the lair of the Weird – but she could not stop herself from considering the
Hawk
and the militia-men there.

“Remind me,” she panted to Ed, “that if we get out of this alive, I want at least a month’s arr-and-arr on a pleasure planet somewhere.”

He looked across at her and smiled. “The slight problem of funding might put paid to that.”

“The statuette, Ed. Don’t forget that.”

“I haven’t. But the combined hundred thousand might, just might, buy us a clapped-out ex-Navy rust-bucket – with nothing left over to pay for a vacation, deserved or not.”

She laughed. “Maybe the Expansion will pay us for our sterling service to the cause?”

“Dream on.”

Up ahead, the two Sleer had slowed their loping run. They crouched, and Villic turned and signalled.

Lania ducked down beside Langley and peered through the vegetation.

The
Hawk
stood on its stanchions, a scintillating gold in the dappled sunlight. It was, she had to admit, a magnificent machine: she felt the sudden urge to board it, meld with the smartcore and get the hell out of this place.

She caught the telepath’s glance and smiled at him. “Only kidding,” she whispered.

Ed said, “Can you read them from this distance?”

Villic slipped from the back of the Sleer and stared across at the ship.

“Very faintly. They’re both on the upper deck.” He closed his eyes. “They’re talking to each other, drinking something. But they’re too far away to probe properly.”

Langley said, “Can we approach without being seen?”

Villic nodded. “They’re seated at a table, away from the viewscreen.” He turned to Ed. “Is the ship set up to detect anything approaching?”

“Not that I’m aware –” Ed began, but Villic raised his hand.

Lania said, “So what do we do?” She looked up at the viewscreen, a lighted rectangle on the upper flank; there was no sign of the militia-men.

“We cross to the ship and hide under its belly,” Villic said. “I should be well within range then.”

Villic stared across at the ship, concentrating on the viewscreen. He looked around the group. “Okay, after three, follow me.” He waited, then said, “One... two.... three. Let’s go!”

Lania felt her heart pumping as they left the cover of the undergrowth and crunched through the incinerated vegetation surrounding the
Hawk
. Seconds later they passed into its shadow and crouched under its curving belly.

Villic closed his eyes, his ancient face a study in concentration.

Ten seconds later he opened his eyes and nodded. He said quietly, “They’re both carrying. The damned thing is...”

For a second, his expression looked haunted. “The thing it, they don’t know it. The infection is deep, deep in their subconscious, waiting to make its move. And you know something? They’re decent people.”

Langley gripped the oldster’s arm. “That doesn’t come into it! You know that. We’ve got to go through with this.”

“I know, for chrissake. But it doesn’t make it any easier. If you could read what I’m reading...”

“I know, and I realise it must be hell.” Langley looked at Ed. “Can you contact the militia?”

Ed pointed along the ship’s underbelly. “There’s a com-console by the dorsal entrance. I can use that to get us aboard.”

Villic was nodding impatiently, having already read the information and planned ahead. “So this is what we do. Ed gets the militia to open the hatch and I send in the Sleer. The militia will be armed, but with the element of surprise...”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Ed asked.

Langley said, “You underestimate the Sleer, Ed. It will work.”

Villic nodded towards the hatch. “Okay.”

They crossed to the hatch. Lania watched Ed take a breath and reach out to the console. He tapped a code and waited.

Seconds later a suspicious voice said, “Director? Marshall?”

“It’s me, Ed Carew.” He licked his lips, went on, “I’m injured. I need a medi-kit.”

He heard a hurried consultation between the militia-men, then, “Okay. Opening up. We’ll get the medi-kit and meet you in the lounge.”

The hatch sighed, eased itself back and swung open. The Sleer, primed by Villic, stepped onto the upchute plate. Between them, the creatures almost filled the narrow confines.

The hatch swung back into place and sealed itself.

Lania could not stop herself from watching Villic. The telepath crouched on the scorched jungle floor beneath the ship and gripped his head in his hands. He closed his eyes, his lips moving as he spoke to himself.

Thirty seconds later he grimaced, then cried out. His face contorted in horror and he wept. Langley was at his side, cradling the old man and murmuring something into his ear.

Villic opened his eyes, drawing a deep breath. “Okay. It’s over. It was... swift, that’s the best I can say. I’m relaying the exit code to the Sleer.”

Langley helped him to his feet and a second later the hatch hissed open and the Sleer stepped out.

Lania looked away as they moved past her and fell into a crouch beneath the ship; they appeared, given the quick glimpse she’d taken, no bloodier than normal.

Ed led the way into the ship and she followed with Langley. Villic remained outside, unwilling, Lania supposed, to look at what his creatures had done.

They rode the upchute to the upper deck and stepped out.

They found the first militia-man sprawled in the corridor, the medi-kit still gripped in his right hand. His body armour was intact, but the place where his head should have been was now just a gory smear across the deck, a trail of blood, pulverised skull and gelatinous brain matter.

She recalled his name. Carlucci, a good-looking guy in his twenties from Nova Venice. The poor, poor bastard.

And he hadn’t even had time to draw any of his side weapons. She knelt beside the dead man, unclipped his laser and tossed it to Ed, then withdrew the pulse-gun from its clip and passed it to Langley. The Outsider grasped it with an expression of delight.

She glanced along the length of the corridor to the lounge. She could see the boots of the second militia-man in the doorway, still twitching in the aftermath of his death.

She was about to stand when something gripped her arm. She screamed, more in surprised horror at what had happened than in pain. She stared down at her wrist, where the militia-man’s gauntlet had her in its vice-like grip. It pulled her and she fell forward across the blood-spattered chest armour. From the corner of her eye she saw the right-hand gauntlet lift itself from the deck and approach her face. She screamed and attempted to pull away.