Part 18 (1/2)

Suzi Palsson turned the handle of the old-fas.h.i.+oned safe in the library office, thankful that she had recalled the number. Inside its velvet, padded interior there sat the object she had been looking for.

This weapon was nothing like her laser-pistol; in fact she had long thought that it could be purely ornamental. She sn.i.g.g.e.red to herself as she thought of the irony. The kids had come here, looking for her so they could steal her gun, and there had been one in the safe only a few metres away, had they bothered to look.

It had an ivory handle, cool and smooth, and a jet-black surface that seemed to swallow light.

Silver f.l.a.n.g.es adorned the barrel, inlaid with intricate engravings which had been the work of her great-grandfather. These old-fas.h.i.+oned firearms were familiar to Suzi, who had spent many hundreds of hours at the screen of her reader, both here in the library and at home. She knew how they operated. Gas pressure was generated when the propellant was burnt in a chamber called the breech, at the rear of the gun rather like the process of an internal combustion engine. The pressure on the projectile base depended on the propellant's properties, the amount burned, and the spatial distribution of the gases.

She checked the chamber: there were two slim, smooth bullets in it. She snapped it shut, wondering how long it would take Shanstra to know about this one, and if it would be possible to shoot her in the back before she realized.

The problem was, Suzi reflected, she did not know if she was capable of killing a being as perfect and beautiful as Shanstra. Suzi still loved. She still believed.

There was someone standing in the doorway.

Suzi gasped and jerked the gun up to cover him. The visitor was a small man with an owlish, intelligent face, in a rather crumpled-looking white suit and paisley tie. He smiled, and raised his hat to reveal dishevelled brown hair, greying slightly at the temples.

'I do hope I'm not disturbing,' he said quietly. 'You see, my friend outside detected your presence. I thought I'd pop in and tell you it's all over.'

145.

'What's all over?' snapped Suzi. She could feel her body beginning to shake.

'And who are you, anyway?'

'Well, you can call me the Doctor. Most people do. I've also been known as Ka Faraq Gatri, Theta Sigma, Merlin, one you'd never be able to p.r.o.nounce, and, er ' he smiled fondly, ' nanoceph. But don't let that bother you. Names are so nominal, in my experience.' He folded his hands behind his back, and smiled. 'The war,' he added, 'to answer your other question. The war is over.'

Suzi's hand faltered and she almost dropped the gun, but when the Doctor came closer, her hands gripped the cool ivory handle more tightly, and her sweaty forefinger stroked the trigger. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean that, although it's been rather messy and b.l.o.o.d.y, a kind of settlement is being negotiated as we speak. A conciliation service forced itself into the situation. So why don't you put down that rather antiquated firearm, and come along with me?'

Suzi gave a half-hearted grin. 'Hey,' she said, 'my mother told me not to go off with strange men.'

'Well, I've had seven different bodies, so that must make me very bizarre indeed.' The little man smiled as if at some private joke. 'Mind you, my last one was stranger.'

Suzi suddenly felt rather absurd, standing in her office and aiming another gun that she did not have the conviction to use. She sighed, clicked the safety-catch on and placed the weapon inside her jacket. 'All right,' she said, 'so where are we going to go?'

The answer came from a clipped voice, just outside the door. 'Nowhere, for the moment.'

There was another man behind the Doctor, tall and anaemic-looking, with spiky white hair and a pair of brightly s.h.i.+ning eyes behind small round gla.s.ses.

Suzi did not break her gaze in time. She felt something brus.h.i.+ng delicately across her mind, and saw the man's bright eyes from within, illuminating the caverns of her thoughts. She gasped.

'You're not allowed,' she protested.

The Doctor looked up sternly. 'Did you just do what I think you did? No, don't tell me.'

'It's there,' Leibniz said. 'Traces of what we just felt. Of that alien. It could be hiding in her.'

'Trau Leibniz,' said the Doctor patiently, 'in your years of ESP work with the Earth Security Council, have you ever had to deal with a creature so powerful it can use mental energy to convert desires and fears into terrifying events in the real world?'

Leibniz opened his mouth to answer.

146.

'Don't bother,' snapped the Doctor. 'It's rhetorical.' His expression became calmer, more conciliatory, and he motioned for Suzi to sit down, which she did.

'What are you doing, Doctor?' Leibniz asked. 'If this one's a true perceptive, she's my business.'

The Doctor ignored him. 'Sorry about my ill-mannered friend,' he murmured gently to Suzi. 'Would you mind if I hypnotized you?'

For the first time in many years, there was a Phracton officer on the command deck of an Earth s.h.i.+p.

Two of Cheynor's guards stood in readiness at the doors to the briefing room, which had been made into an impromptu arena for negotiation.

Cheynor felt they would probably not be needed.

He had to admit that it was still an intimidating experience, seeing one up this close. And not just any Phracton the Commandant himself of this expeditionary unit. The globe housing the creature was at least two metres across, and some effect half shadow, half a kind of frosting made sure that the being within it remained indistinct. When the Commandant spoke, Cheynor saw, the tentacled form within the globe expanded and contracted like a bellows, and the words from the grille on the globe's central band of black were punctuated by liquid slurping sounds.

'What I fail to understand Captain,' ventured the Phracton Commandant, 'is why you did not share your information with me earlier.'

Cheynor sighed. 'I would have,' he said. 'I called your representatives to Londinium Plaza, remember?'

'Yes,' the alien answered thoughtfully. 'There are those in the Swarm who do not trust you hu-man. Those who suspect you of trickery.'

'Please! I wanted to make them realize that we're being made to fight this war against our will, and for no purpose other than the peace of mind of Earth Council.'

The Phracton drew what sounded to Cheynor like a deep, shuddering breath, and the interior of the globe was suffused for a second with an opaque blue light. 'That is not honourable of Earth Council,' he said after a pause.

'No,' Cheynor answered wryly. 'I said something similar myself, only less politely.' He sat back in his chair and addressed the Phracton's speaker-grille.

'It would be simple now, for both our forces to get off this world and forget about it. Unfortunately, that can't be done. For one thing, I've got an orbital platform full of civilian refugees looking for a home, and there's a h.e.l.l of a lot of clearing up to be done.' He paused. 'And secondly, we've both suffered casualties, you know that. I lost one of my best officers up there today. But it 147 hasn't all been strictly you against us. There's something else here, something insidious that threatens both our races, and I want to find out what it is.'

'Indeed. And I am as reluctant to leave this matter unresolved as you.'

Cheynor stood up, walked round the table so that he stood as close as he dared to the Phracton Commandant. He saw that the surface of the globe, although it appeared to be of a material similar to plexigla.s.s, was astonish-ingly thick, and marked with the lacerations of battle. A gentle fizzing sound emanated from the surface, reminding Cheynor of the electric fences used on some colonies to keep the indigenous animals out. 'I want your word,' he said, 'that when all this is over, your people will help us to make Banksburgh habitable again. We need to pool our technology. There's so much we can teach one another.'

'My word?'

'Yes. Your bond of honour. I understand that's of the highest value to your race, and '

'And is not given lightly!' The Phracton seemed to hiss and bubble inside its casing, causing Cheynor to take a step backwards.

All right, he thought. I can see now why I never wanted to join the diplomatic corps.

'I'm sorry,' he said after drawing a deep breath. 'I didn't mean to cause offence. It's just that I've been reading up on the history of your race, and, well, while there are some humans I wouldn't trust even after a sworn statement signed in blood, I know that a Phracton's word cannot be broken. That's why I'd accept it as a guarantee from you.' Cheynor looked up hopefully at the giant globe. 'It was meant to be a sort of compliment,' he added lamely.

The blue haze filled the globe again and Cheynor saw the blurred form inside beginning to vibrate, shaking as if in terrible fury. A low hiss began to emerge from the speaking grille, building in volume and pitch, underlaid with a grotesque roar of static.

Only then did Cheynor snap out of his bewilderment and alarm, and realize what was happening.