Use of Weapons (3 page)

'Medic!'
he yelled.

'
What
?'

'Medic!'
Cullis screamed over another explosion, holding his red-stained hand out.
'Zakalwe! I'm hit!' His good eye was wide with shock. His hand trembled.

The
young man looked exasperated and slapped Cullis' hand away. 'That's wine, you
cretin!' He lunged forward, hauled a bottle out of the older man's tunic and
dropped it in his lap.

Cullis
looked down, surprised. 'Oh,' he said. 'Good.' He peered inside his jacket and
carefully extracted a few pieces of broken glass. 'Wondered why it was fitting
so well,' he mumbled.

The
engine caught suddenly, roaring like something made furious by the shaking
ground and the swirling dust. Explosions in the gardens sent brown sprays of
earth and pieces of shattered statuary over the courtyard wall, landing
spattering and chunking all around them.

He
wrestled with the gear-lever until the drive engaged and nearly threw him and
Cullis out of the half-track as it leapt forward, out of the courtyard and into
the dusty road beyond. Seconds later the major part of the great hall collapsed
under the combined zeroed-in weight of a dozen or so heavy artillery pieces,
and smashed down into the courtyard, filling it and the surrounding area with
splintered wood and masonry and yet more tumbling clouds of dust.

Cullis
scratched his head and muttered into the helmet he had just been sick into.

'The
bastards,' he said.

'That's
right, Cullis.'

'The
filthy bastards.'

'Yes,
Cullis.'

The
half-track turned a corner and roared away, towards the desert.

1: The Good Soldier

One

She
made her way through the turbine hall, surrounded by an ever-changing ring of
friends, admirers and animals - nebula to her attractive focus - talking to her
guests, giving instructions to her staff, making suggestions and offering
compliments to the many and various entertainers. Music filled the echoing
space above the ancient, gleaming machines, sitting silently amongst the
chattering throng of gaily dressed party-goers. She bowed graciously and smiled
to a passing Admiral and twirled a delicate black flower in her hand, putting
the bloom to her nose to draw in its heady fragrance.

Two
of the hralzs at her feet leapt up, yelping, fore-paws attempting to find
purchase on the smooth lap of her formal gown, their glistening snouts raised
to the flower. She bent, tapping both animals gently on the nose with the
bloom, making them bounce down to the floor again, sneezing and shaking their
heads. The people around her laughed. Stooping, gown belling, she rubbed her
hands through the pelt of one of the animals, shaking its big ears, then raised
her head to the major-domo as he approached, deferentially threading his way
through the crowd around her.

'Yes,
Maikril?' she said.

'The
System Times photographer,' the major-domo said quietly. He straightened as she
rose, until he was looking up at her, his chin level with her bare shoulders.

'Admitting
defeat?' She grinned.

'I
believe so, ma'am. Requesting an audience.'

She
laughed. 'So well put. How many did we get this time?'

The
major-domo sidled a little closer, looking nervously at one of the hralzs when
it snarled at him. 'Thirty-two moving-picture cameras ma'am; over a hundred
still.'

She
brought her mouth conspiratorially close to the major-domo's ear and said, 'Not
counting the ones we found on our guests.'

'Quite,
Ma'am.'

'I'll
see... him? Her?'

'Him,
Ma'am.'

'Him,
later. Tell him ten minutes; remind me in twenty. West atrium.' She glanced at
the single platinum bracelet she wore. Recognising her retinae, a tiny
projector disguised as an emerald briefly displayed a holo plan of the old
power station in twin cones of light aimed straight at her eyes.

'Certainly,
Ma'am,' Maikril said.

She
touched his arm and whispered, 'We're heading over to the aboretum, all right?'

The
major-domo's head barely moved to indicate he had heard. She turned regretfully
to the people around her, her hands clasped as though in pleading. 'I'm sorry.
Will you all excuse me, just a moment?' She put her head to one side, smiling.

'Hi.
Hello. Hi there. How are you.' They walked quickly through the party, past the
grey rainbows of drugstreams and the plashing pools of the wine fountains. She
led, skirts rustling, while the major-domo struggled to keep up with her
long-legged gait. She waved to those who greeted her; government ministers and
their shadows, foreign dignitaries and attaches, media stars of all
persuasions, revolutionaries and Navy brass, the captains of industry and
commerce and their more extravagantly wealthy shareholders. The hralzs snapped
perfunctorily at the heels of the major-domo, their claws skittering on the
polished mica floor, all ungainly, then bounding forward when they encountered
one of the many priceless rugs scattered throughout the turbine hall.

At
the steps to the aboretum, hidden from the main hall by the easternmost dynamo
housing, she paused, thanked the major-domo, shooed the hralzs away, patted her
perfect hair, smoothed her already immaculately smooth gown and checked that
the single white stone on the black choker was centered, which it was. She
started down the steps towards the tall doors of the arboretum.

One
of the hralzs whined from the top of the steps, bouncing up and down on its
forelegs, eyes watering.

She
looked back, annoyed. 'Quiet, Bouncer! Away!'

The
animal lowered its head and snuffled off.

She
closed the double doors quietly behind her, taking
in
the quiet extent of luxuriant foliage the arboretum presented.

Outside
the high crystal curve of the partial dome, the night was black. Small sharp
lights burned on tall masts inside the arboretum, casting deep jagged shadows
amongs the crowded plants. The air was warm and smelled of earth and sap. She
breathed deeply and walked towards the far side of the enclosure.

'Hello
there.'

The
man turned quickly to find her standing behind him, leaning against a
light-mast, her arms crossed, a small smile on her lips and in her eyes. Her
hair was blue-black, like her eyes; her skin was fawn and she looked slimmer
than she did on newscasts, when for all her height she could seem stocky. He
was tall and very slim and unfashionably pale, and most people would have
thought his eyes were too close together.

He
looked at the delicately patterned leaf he still held in one fragile-looking
hand, then let it go, smiling uncertainly, and stepped out of the extravagantly
flowered bush he'd been investigating. He rubbed his hands, looked bashful.
'I'm sorry, I...' he gestured nervously.

'That's
all right,' she said, reaching out. They clasped hands. 'You're Relstoch
Sussepin, aren't you?'

'Umm...,
yes,' he said, obviously surprised. He was still holding her hand. He realised
this, and looked even more discomforted, quickly letting go.

'Diziet
Sma.' She bowed her head a little, very slowly, letting her shoulder-length
hair swing, keeping her eyes on him.

'Yes,
I know, of course. Umm... pleased to meet you.'

'Good,'
she nodded. 'And I you. I've heard your work.'

'Oh.'
He looked boyishly pleased and clapped his hands in a gesture he didn't seem to
notice himself making. 'Oh. That's very...'

'I
didn't say that I liked it,' she said, the smile hovering only on one side of
her mouth now.

'Ah.'
Crestfallen.

So cruel.
'But I do like it,
very much,' she said, and suddenly she was communicating amused - even
conspiratorial - contrition through her expression.

He
laughed and she felt something relax inside her. This was going to be all
right.

'I
did wonder why I'd been invited,' he confessed, the deep-set eyes somehow
bright. 'Everybody here seems so...', he shrugged, '... important. That's why
I...', he waved awkwardly behind him at the plant he'd been inspecting.

'You
don't think composers should be regarded as important?' she asked, gently
chiding.

'Well...
compared to all these politicians and Admirals and business people... in terms
of power, I mean... And I'm not even a very well-known musician. I'd have
thought Savntreig, or Khu, or...'

'They've
composed their careers very well, certainly,' she agreed.

He
paused for a moment, then gave a small laugh and looked down. His hair was very
fine, and glinted in the high mast light. It was her turn to fall in with his
laugh. Maybe she ought to mention the commission now, rather than leaving it to
their next meeting, when she would reduce the numbers - even if they were
distant numbers, at the moment - to something a little more friendly... or even
leaving it to a private rendezvous, later still, once she was sure he had been
captivated.

How
long should she spin this out? He was what she wanted, but it would mean so
much more after a charged friendship; that long, exquisite exchange of
gradually more intimate confidences, the slow accumulation of shared
experiences, the languorous spiralling dance of attraction, coming and going
and coming and going, winding closer and closer, until that laziness was
sublimed in the engulfing heat of requital.

He
looked her in the eyes, and said, 'You flatter me, Ms Sma.'

She
returned his gaze, raising her chin a little, acutely aware of each nuance in
her carefully translated body language. There was an expression on his face she
did not think so childish, now. His eyes reminded her of the stone on her
bracelet. She felt a little light-headed, and took a deep breath.

'Ahem.'

She
froze.

The
word had been pronounced from behind and to one side of her. She saw Sussepin's
gaze falter and shift.

Sma
kept her expression serene as she turned, then glared at the grey-white casing
of the drone as though attempting to melt holes in it.

'
What
?' she said, in a voice that might
have etched steel.

The
drone was the size - and near enough the shape - of a small suitcase. It
floated in towards her face.

'Trouble,
toots,' it said, then moved briskly to one side, angling its body so that it
appeared to be contemplating the inky heights of sky beyond the crystal
semisphere.

Sma
looked down at the brick floor of the arboretum, her lips pursed. She allowed
herself the tiniest of shakes of the head.

'Mr
Sussepin,' she smiled, and spread her hands. This pains me, but... will
you...?'

'Of
course.' He was already moving, and went quickly past, nodding once.

'Perhaps
we can talk later,' she said.

He
turned, still backing off. 'Yes; I'd... that would...' He seemed to lose
inspiration, and nodded nervously again, walking quickly to the doors at the
far end of the arboretum. He left without looking back.