CLAIRVOYANCE: Part 26
“Hey!” someone shouted in the distance and her cheek stung with sudden pain. The throne room grew faint, torn away from her eyes. She swam into a dark room where a woman in ordinary clothes was shaking her by the shoulders and shouting. Gina shook her head like a punch-drunk fighter, closed her eyes against the throbbing pain between her temples. Part of her was still missing, lost halfway between here and there and fading fast, but she managed to latch on to it just in time and dragged it back into her own body by sheer force of will.
Nobody had ever managed to bring her out of an out-of-body dream before. The transition was quick and abrupt, followed by a rush of cold memories about who she was and what had happened to her. When she opened her eyes she stared her captor full in the face, angry and alert.
“Wakey wakey,” the woman, Jane, sang in a mocking tone. “Everybody’s here. Time for you to go on display, dolly-bird.”
For a moment Gina looked around, taking in her surroundings. They were the only two people in an abandoned concrete shack whose sole feature was a single bare light bulb burning overhead. Gina tested her hands and ankles and found them cable-tied to a heavy chair.
Shit, she said to herself. Then, “Where am I?”
Jane snorted. “What does it matter to you? You’ll probably be dead by morning anyway. If I were you–“
“Untie me,” Gina said with her voice and her mind at once. Jane’s hands twitched with involuntary movement, and Gina smiled, a small sense of triumph in her heart. The woman’s dark eyebrows shot up and she jerked backwards. It was Gina’s first good look at her captor’s features. Angular cheekbones framed a pair of bright brown eyes, and above that a high forehead showed a few millimetres of bleached blond growth.
“What the fuck was that?” Jane breathed.
Gina focused again, struggling to find a hold on the woman’s mind. Fear gave her a little bit more to work with. She hissed, “Untie me. Now.”
Jane’s body lurched forward against her will. Then she clamped down on her own mind with iron discipline, took control and made it whirl in bright, confusing circles of disjointed images. A telepath avoidance technique, the worst of them all. Gina was hurled back into her own head as the room spun around her, dry-heaving with nausea.
“I don’t know how you did that, you little bitch,” Jane spat, “but you’re not gonna do it again.” Cold steel flashed out of her sleeve and Gina jerked backwards in genuine terror. Jane grabbed a big fistful of Gina’s hair and held her still as she put the knife to her throat. The murderous expression on her face was all Gina could see.
Then there was a loud thump and everything moved. Gina flew backwards into the wall, her chair turning to splinters where it crunched into the concrete. The next moment she was on the floor, dizzy and spitting out bits of acid-tasting bile, but not dead. Definitely not dead.
“She’s supposed to be alive!” boomed a voice that Gina couldn’t see. Pins and needles stung her hands and feet as she pulled free of the broken chair. Pain had never felt so good, like the physical sensation of freedom. She pushed numb hands against the floor and marvelled as her body lifted up an inch or two, then stayed there swaying unsteadily.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” the voice continued, and she raised her head to thank her rescuer. She slowly took in the outline of a suit of Federation battle armour, kneeling down in front of her, silhouetted clearly against the lights outside.
Pure panic hit her bloodstream. All reason disappeared in that moment, she simply reacted, like an animal. Her mind lashed out. The Fed cried in sudden fright and clenched the rifle in his hand, firing wildly, bullets whistling past Gina’s ears. Somehow she’d convinced his eyes that they could no longer see.
He staggered blindly to the side, just the opening Gina needed, and she bolted screaming out of the shack. The outside wasn’t quite what she expected.
Some kind of fenced-off compound surrounded her, built on part of a small jet airfield — Gina could see airplanes rolling down distant runways and rumbling into the sky. Something seemed funny about this choice of location. Planes were a rare and expensive affectation nowadays, reserved only for the elite. Everyone else travelled by slower and more economical airships. If only she’d been in the right frame of mind to think about it.
“Stop,” Jane’s voice echoed behind her, strained and coughing. “FedPol Special Agent! Stand down or I’ll fire!”
That was all the incentive Gina needed to run. She tore across the tarmac in the glow of the airfield lights, without care for cover or staying hidden. She could hear nothing except her own hyperventilating gasps for breath. She passed a tumbledown warehouse, then an old concrete light post now given over to moss and rust. The next moment she was at the fence, four metres of vertical wire mesh, and she launched herself upwards.
Hand over hand she pulled herself to the top of the fence. Barb wire tore at her skin and ripped her clothes but she was beyond feeling it, fuelled by nothing but animal fear. More footsteps pounded behind her, the heavy metal thumping of more Fed troopers. She prepared to jump the drop to the other side, not caring how many bones she broke, as long as she could get away . . .
“Emily!” someone roared from the ground, and time stopped. Gina froze, shocked into stasis. No one called her by that name. No one knew that name anymore. Then a light clicked on and illuminated the thin, grey-haired spectre of a man standing a few metres away. Gina immediately recognised Director Edward Vaughan of the Hong Kong Federal Police.
“This stops now,” he said in his rolling baritone, expecting to be obeyed. “Come down.”
Gina leaped.
She landed hard on the dirt. Her ankle twisted the wrong way and she fell, aching, but the next moment she pushed herself upright again and drove forward at a stumbling run. Suddenly a loud metal scream sounded behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see an armoured Fed trooper running through the fence without even slowing down, electric torch firmly fixed on her fleeing shape.
She tried to speed up but flesh and bone were no match for advanced servo-motors and artificial muscles of tungsten and steel. Cold metal fingers snatched the bottom of her t-shirt and lifted her off the ground.
Left without any other option, she twisted around, grabbed his helmet with both hands, and poured all the anger and fury she could muster straight into his mind.
The image of the dead city Gabriel had given her, the certainty of drowning to death in the icy Atlantic, the smell of a man’s brains spattered on the wall behind him. Street life. Street death. Every horror she’d ever experienced cut into the Fed’s soul, and he crumpled backwards without a sound, dragging her down with him.
When the dust settled Gina found herself lying on top of the armour, cold inside. She no longer felt anything of the man beneath her. He was catatonic, his mind shredded to pieces. She tried to stand up but found her t-shirt still stuck in the armour’s grip. She pulled and pulled to free herself but the powerful fingers were clamped tight. She tore at it frantically until it ripped, exposing her midriff to the cold evening air.
Pulling Mahmoud’s leather jacket tight around her, she set off through the thick grass and brush into wilderness. No one else pursued her.
It took a long time stumbling through the ocean of green before she found a road in the darkness. Just a small dirt track, but the fresh imprint of tank treads told her that the search for her was not over. She cursed her luck.
“When the hell did I become what everybody’s fighting over?” she wondered aloud. Wind rustled in the underbrush but nobody answered her.
She followed the track for a while until it took her within sight of another fence, this one lined with lights and guard posts. A small sign stood above it all, printed in incomprehensible Russian letters, but its message was made clear by the pictogram of a land mine going off. Gina swallowed. She had to be on some kind of old military base, then, and that made escape impractical.
Something crunched behind her. She wheeled about to see a Fed personnel carrier zooming across the track towards her, its top-mounted spotlight searching left and right. They’ll have infrared, Gina thought miserably. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
Then another thought presented itself.
She took up a good hide in the bushes and cleared her mind. This might be her only chance, and she wasn’t sure if she could do it. Maybe it was too far, maybe no one would be listening. Still, she dug the little foil packet out of her pocket, swallowed the Spice pills dry, and waited for them to start working.
The trance came on her slowly, strangely, detaching herself from her body until she felt almost weightless. The world began to pulse blue at every heartbeat. Then the awareness hit her. She sensed minds, bodies, life everywhere around her, without the need to reach out or concentrate. Coloured lines connected them all like some beautiful moving mosaic, every bird, every insect. Even the squat rolling shapes of the APCs had their place, the human minds inside now blazing bright to her eyes.
Finally, before her concentration faded away completely, she gritted her teeth and focussed. She submerged herself in the dreamworld for a few seconds, long enough to send out a cry, as loud and as far as she could manage. It roared through the blankness like a tiny avalanche of sound.
It said, Help me.
The next moment a squad of camouflaged Fed troopers skidded across the grass towards her, surrounding her. They would be invisible from normal eyes, but Gina could see them, shining brighter by the second. They shouted demands for her surrender. So she surrendered, staggering back to her feet with her arms up. Her muscles responded only sluggishly, and she swayed in the light breeze.
Her mouth turned dry as dust as she watched Director Vaughan climb out of the APC. Part of her would rather take her chances with the land mines. Still, she made herself stand and face him. The shock of fear-adrenaline concentrated her mind wonderfully.
“Hi, daddy,” she tried to say, something appropriately bitter and sarcastic to set the tone, but no sound came from her mouth. Cold dread choked all the attitude out of her, her throat so tight she couldn’t breathe.
Director Vaughan drew up in front of her. He was not as tall as she remembered him, but every bit the proud Hong Kong aristocrat. He stood with feet planted shoulder-width apart and hands clasped behind his back like a soldier. Like a Fed, Gina corrected herself.
“Your mother and I thought you were dead,” he said coolly. His expression showed no hint of emotion. “Then I was shown the security footage from your little raid on my building. I saw you. You looked older, but I knew.”
“Congratulations,” husked Gina, then cleared her throat.
The Director’s jaw clenched tighter, but Gina couldn’t tell what it meant. He continued, “Against my better judgement, I suppressed your identity from the FedPol system and came after you myself. I knew you wouldn’t want to see me, so I sent Jane to track you down and bring you in quietly.” He paused for a long time. Then, “I want an explanation.”
“You were torturing a friend of mine–“
“An explanation, Emily. We came home one day and you’d disappeared. Our only child gone up in smoke.” Now his voice trembled with old anger and betrayal. “We searched for you for weeks.”
It was Gina’s turn to get angry. “Oh, I’m touched, dad,” she shot back. “I’m surprised you could fit it into your busy schedule of attending parties and tonguing the Fed Controller’s ass. Jesus, I’m shocked you even noticed I was gone.”
“You made an embarrassment out of–“
“I don’t care how you fucking felt!” screamed Gina. “You couldn’t be bothered with me since the day I stopped being your pretty little princess!” She took a few steps towards him, baring her teeth, but he stood his ground. “You think I don’t remember, dad? It all clicked for me when I was sixteen, the Federation Day party. You left me at home so you and mom could rub shoulders with the Controller and her people, and you wore a shiny little Fed pin on your lapel, smiling and shaking hands with everybody. Just like you did at the President’s parties three years before. That’s when I figured it out. It wasn’t the Federation who made you what you are. You were a fucking lapdog before, and the only thing that changed was whose cock you were sucking.”
His normally pale face had gone red with fury. “I was making sure we had a future!”
“I found my own future,” she said with absolute certainty. “You’re not in it.”
The Director snorted, his anger fading, or at least brought back under control. He motioned his troops to close in on her. A moment later she had a hulking battlesuit standing at each shoulder. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re coming home with me. At least your mother will be happy to see you.”
She laughed. “You’re insane. You think that just by showing up here you’ll erase the last thirteen years of my life? You think you’ll get your perfect little family unit back? You’d have to lock me in a fucking tower.”
“If that’s what it takes. You’re coming with us, Emily, like it or not.”
“I don’t think so,” Gina replied. A tingling at the back of her brain told her that everything would be okay. She smiled and added, “Dad, meet my friend Gabriel.”
Three silent stealth helicopters dropped out of the sky like rocks, raining missiles down on the APC. It erupted into a tower of flame and shrapnel. The Director dove to the ground, the battle suits pulled away from Gina to raise their guns, but pinpoint cannon fire blew them into the ground in a flurry of dirt and grass. One of the copters hovered overhead and lowered a rope ladder. Gina grabbed it and climbed like never before.
Then she was inside, waiting arms pulled her to safety, and the big door banged shut behind her. The helicopter swayed back into the sky. A stream of rifle bullets followed it, but the copter simply shrugged off the hits and carried on flying.
“Thanks,” she said to no one in particular, staring out the window. The lights of Odessa still glittered below her — in all that time she’d moved only a few miles. Almost automatically she scanned the chaos of lights at the waterfront, but found only dark water in the mooring where the Son of the Wind used to be. A pang of sadness troubled her for a moment, but it was right for Mahmoud and Maryam to be getting on with their lives. They’d involved themselves too much. After all, Gina Hart could take care of herself.
As she tore her eyes away she found herself still breathing hard from the excitement, her heart pounding, fighting her Spice trance for a little clarity of thought. An idea struck her. “Could you fly to Spain in this?”
“The boss said you’d say that, ma’am,” answered the copilot, an American by his accent, strapping himself back into his chair. “The only place we’re going is straight back to the airship, and we’re under orders to shoot down any copter that breaks formation. Please don’t make this difficult.”
“Ah.” That cut down her options. “Okay, I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” She stood up, walked into the cockpit, and smiled at the copilot as he cursed and reached for his sidearm.
“Did you hear what I said, lady?” he growled, struggling with the catch on his holster.
Her eyes followed a row of colourful warning markers down to a small switch at the copilot’s knee. “Yeah,” she whispered, reached down, and pulled the emergency ejection tab.
CLAIRVOYANCE: Part 25
Her numb cheek jerked up from the table with a gasp. Panic thumped in her throat, but it went away as she realised she was out of the nightmare. Looking out over a city caught in pale morning light, the bright neon now dim and desultory as if it resented the sun. The only thing that still burned with some life was the big sign that welcomed authorised visitors to Laputa.
I fucking hate that dream, thought Rat as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The clock on the wall read eight, which was no time for civilised people to be awake, and she groaned. She must’ve dropped off waiting for Jock. There had been no sign of him since he left on ‘business’, and that was two days ago. Not even a text message. Anxiety churned in her belly at the thought. She really wanted him to be all right, especially since she was now too shaky and worried to operate the damned VR rig and its sensitive brain wave controls.
Gina hadn’t called either, which she’d promised to do as soon as she was safe or needed an assist. The two people most important to her, both out of reach, quite possibly in danger and needing her help. Rat didn’t bite her fingernails but she was tempted to start. She looked out the window sighing, Where are you?
“Coffee?” asked Jock, placing a steaming cup in front of her. She muttered a quick thank-you and took a sip of the thick brown slurry. Then she spat it back out, leaped out of her chair and grabbed Jock by his collar, screaming at the top of her voice.
“You! Where the hell have you been?!” She kissed him with all her heart, pulled back to look into his shocked eyes, and slapped him across the jaw. “That’s for making me sweat like that!”
Jock held his sore cheek and stared at her blankly. “Jesus, if I knew you were gonna be like this, I wouldn’t have bothered coming back.”
“Look, none of that matters right now,” Rat hissed, the words pouring out of her in a big torrent. “I got something to tell you, I need your help, this stuff happened while you were gone and–“
“You’re right,” he interrupted calmly, “none of that matters right now. I got something to tell you.”
“Hey, boy, this is important! I–“
“You,” he said over the top of her, “are doing nothing except coming down with me to Cloud City tomorrow morning.” She fell into silence, confused. He continued, “Until then you’ll do everything I tell you to do, ’cause I called in some favours I really didn’t want to use and you’d better not let me down on this.”
She stood agape for a moment. Cloud City was the Laputan equivalent of the Federal Houses of Parliament or the Kremlin, the highest halls of government. More importantly, it was the biggest airship ever devised, hovering high in the clouds over Laputa without any links to the surface. People got on or off Cloud City by helicopter only. Amateur cowboys like Rat simply did not set foot there.
She asked slowly, “Why would I be going to Cloud City?”
“Because you’re going to be running your first job,” he said, “and you’ll be graded on it by the King of Laputa himself. Do well and you’ll be the first woman to publicly make the ranking. Not your handle, not some fake identity. You.” He poked a finger at her forehead.
“You . . . This . . .” Rat choked out, her throat so tight she couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure how to feel. Ecstatic joy and gratitude fought with complete terror until they all ran together. Her eyes filled with tears, and suddenly she felt his arms wrapping around her head.
“Thought I’d give you something better to do than worry,” he whispered. “Hope it’s not too bad a present.”
Rat bit her lip. She knew she had something to tell Jock, something she had to do. She hesitated, then stuttered, “I– I ain’t worrying.” She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and smiled at him. “I never thought I’d . . . Jock, it’s the best present anyone could ever give me.”
He nodded, satisfied. “So what was it you were gonna tell me? Something important?”
“Nah,” she replied, “I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
“Then get your ‘trodes on, we’ve got a lot to teach you by morning.” A big grin spread across Jock’s face, and he smacked her bottom on her way to the rig. Unamused, she turned and squeezed his balls just a little bit harder than he might find comfortable. Then she quickly retreated out of his reach and blew him a kiss, laughing as he hopped angrily after her.
Rat hadn’t slept. Her brain was too wired with adrenaline, and her state of mind had been honed to a razor edge. Jock marched beside her on their way to the helipad, silent, running on coffee alone. The building’s big service elevator lifted them onto the roof and opened its doors. Rain poured into the cabin. Wind battered at them, slapping their clothes about. Neither of them felt it. They walked out under the blue-black sky, hand in hand, and waited for the circling helicopter to begin landing.
The spinning rotors whipped the rain-soaked air into a hurricane. Rat raised an arm to shield her eyes from the spray, but couldn’t resist stealing a glance at the ski blades as they kissed the tarmac. It was a graceful movement, force applied with surprising tenderness. Just like hacking when your mind was in the zone.
The pilot leaned over and wrenched the door open. Jock rushed to climb in first, already drenched and dripping, and took up the rear seat. Rat cursed him for the selfish cunt that he was and tried to get comfortable in the only chair left — the passenger seat. The place where she could see everything below her through the clear polymer canopy. Her throat tightened just sitting safely on the helipad, her heart pounded in her chest, and all she really wanted to do was to jump out and run screaming. By willpower alone she forced her trembling hands to buckle her seatbelt and fix her helmet. Nothing would keep her from a spot on the hacker rankings. Nothing.
Her stomach made a sickening lurch. Her eyes were shut tight, but she knew they’d left the ground, headed up into the clouds. A flash of blue light hit her closed eyelids, some distant lightning bolt, and she shuddered. The seatbelt dug into her fingers where she clutched it but she couldn’t seem to let go.
“Look,” Jock told her. She ignored him. He rapped his knuckles across the top of her helmet and hissed, “For fuck’s sake, look!”
Rat opened her eyes. At first she saw nothing, but when her eyes followed Jock’s frantic pointing she caught a shadow in the darkness above them, something dark and huge and mind-blowing. Rat gaped. It was bigger than her wildest dreams. Other airships great and small hovered beside the massive bulk of Cloud City, connected by long thin cables and tubes, but even the mighty passenger liners were like ants next to Cloud City.
At this distance she could barely see both ends of the balloon at once. The upside-down plastic domes that dangled underneath the enormous gasbag shone with light, the buildings of the city proper, caught in the middle of their morning routine. Out at the corners of the city were four great metal bays, suspended on wires, offering shelter to helicopters and small aircraft for landing and takeoff. Rat remained awestruck as she watched the nearest bay swallow her up. The helicopter set down on the deck with a clunk, but this time it was still hundreds of metres above the ground.
“Why would anyone build something as fucked in the head as this?” she asked Jock, hopping out of the copter ahead of him. The deck was neat and tidy, and well-dressed people urged them towards a tube that would get them safely inside and away from the storm.
Jock snorted and shook his head. “Because they could.”
Rat took off her wet jacket and draped it over her arm, then followed the well-dressed people into a long boarding tube with a long escalator in it. The whole tube swayed where gusts of wind pummelled its sides, and Rat had to hang on to the handrails to keep her balance. Great way to start off, she thought sourly.
Her mobile phone went off, bouncing loud electronic music off the walls. She dug it out of her pocket and stared numbly at the screen. She didn’t recognise the number, but she could take a guess who was on the other side. At length Rat bit her lip, silenced her conscience and turned the phone off.
“Everything alright?” Jock asked her. “You seem on edge.”
“It’s nothing,” said Rat.
Suddenly she stepped out into the first dome of Cloud City, and her knees buckled with vertigo. Her head spun as she caught herself on the railing. Standing on a walkway in the middle of the upside-down dome was difficult enough, but she hadn’t realised that, from the inside, the dome was transparent. The whole world stood on display below her. The lights of Laputa glittered through the raindrops, half-obscured by shreds of cloud and muddied by the water running in rivulets down the tough polymer walls, but it dominated the view even from up here.
Jock picked her up and supported her, whispering, “Just close your eyes and keep walking.” Rat nodded, but opened her eyes anyway. She couldn’t make herself look away. There could be nothing scarier than walking across a suspended catwalk in full view of the ground far below her.
One step at a time, Jock dragged her towards the largest structure in the dome, a castle-shaped monstrosity clad in holograms to make it look impressive. Stone walls flared out high above them, growing bigger towards the top like an upside-down pyramid, supported by stone and timber buttresses jutting out of the lower walls. Huge stained-glass windows sat in metre-deep recesses, probably holographic as well. It was a riot of colour more intense than any real medieval monument.
Rat sneered at the spectacle at first. The closer she got, though, the less sure she became. Finally she reached the edge of the moat and her eyes went wide. There were no holograms; the castle was actually made of real granite blocks, mortared together and lashed to the dome’s superstructure. The genuine glass windows above her sent streaks of coloured light everywhere, throwing intricate high-tech patterns and images on the floor.
“Welcome to the castle in the clouds, Alex,” said Jock, a hint of pride in his voice. He stood out front for the security systems to scan him, and after a moment the great wooden drawbridge lowered to let them in.
She forced a smile. “I thought you didn’t go for ceremony.”
“I don’t, but I deserve a fucking medal for getting you this far.” He waved her inside. “Let’s go and see the King.”
They crossed into the gatehouse and passed a functional-looking portcullis, ready to spear anyone caught under it. It gave way to a cobbled courtyard centred around a tall, intricately-carved fountain. Little gardens were scattered around to liven the place up with flowers and greenery. Rat stared at the stables where actual horses stood tied up outside, whinnying and drinking out of a wide trough. She could tell they were real purely due to the pervasive smell of sweat, manure and old hay.
A band of footmen were drilling in the corner, swinging their great halberds, dressed in medieval breastplates and carrying swords at their belts. They moved with studied realism, but they lacked some undefinable quality; maybe the vibration of their supposed footsteps, or the disturbances in the air that real movements would have made. The holographic sky overhead and the almost-natural sunlight pouring down from it couldn’t be real either, inside a damn blimp. Still . . . Rat had a feeling it wouldn’t take much to start believing it.
That had its advantages, too. The thick walls blocked out her view of the ground, giving her a bit of relief as her vertigo subsided. The eyes fooled the brain into thinking she stood on solid ground.
She took Jock’s arm and swallowed the fresh excitement burning in her stomach. A man in an immaculate black suit greeted them from where he stood, next to the solid oak door of the main entrance, and opened the door for them. She half-expected it to reveal some dark castle corridor but instead she saw a large wood-panelled elevator covered in rich carpets, heraldic banners and other medieval imagery. The man turned the appropriate keys and pushed the appropriate buttons, then closed the doors behind them.
Rat wondered at the decor of the elevator. This whole place could have easily been tacky but for the attention to detail. Whoever built it really loved this stuff.
The elevator rose, then stopped. The man told them, “This is the throne room. Just keep going straight ahead, the King’s expecting you.”
They stepped out into the most magnificent place Rat had ever seen.
The King’s throne room wasn’t so much a room as an open ruin bathing in sunlight under a cloudy grey-green sky. The only visible walls were two parallel rows of crumbling stones, carved with reliefs so worn by wind and rain that none of their images could still be made out.
A faded and torn red carpet led out from the elevator, and puffed out holographic dust where Rat’s feet stepped onto it. Sunlight touched her face with genuine warmth. She realised she couldn’t tell the difference between this artificial disc of light in the ceiling and the very real star at the heart of the solar system. The scale of the room’s design staggered her, it must’ve cost billions to create this space rather than simply bringing guests into VR.
The carpet ended in front of a raised dais with a great wooden feasting table down the middle. There, standing tall at the head of the table, she saw a throne of green marble lined with intricate scrollwork. Platinum, silver and gold thread defined its shape. Unlike the rest of the ruin, these bits didn’t show any signs of decay, but they were no less believable. They were real things artfully enhanced with holograms and subtle lighting.
“Welcome!” called a voice, and Rat spotted a man leaning languidly on the big throne, waving them closer. Jock nudged her onward.
“Welcome,” the man repeated, studying Rat’s face as they approached the throne. “Welcome to my little castle and my little city. You’re the girl David has been talking so passionately about, eh? A true pleasure.”
He smiled, and she felt an instant stab of dislike as she met his eyes. He was unmistakably Japanese, a tight bronze face topped with close-cropped black hair, and a red mark showed on the back of his neck where an old Zaibatsu tattoo had been lasered off. Rat’s Korean heritage bristled inside her. She’d never met a Japanese person she didn’t love to hate, and this smug bastard seemed pretty par for the course.
Biting off the impulse to say something nasty, she glanced sideways at Jock. “Your name’s David?” she asked with a wry smile.
“That’s right. I guess you deserve to know.” He nodded at the King. “This is Hideo Kagehisa, the King of Laputa, ‘Kensei’ on the rankings. He’s in the top fifteen, who all know each other and meet up every now and again to discuss the Nations’ issues. Don’t we, Hideo?”
“We do indeed,” said the King. “David and I have been fast friends since college. I’m sure he’s told you absolutely nothing about me, so I won’t be offended if you feel a little awkward. Please call me Hideo, and I’ll call you Alex, if I may.”
Rat shrugged. She’d heard of Kensei, a legend in his time and firmly entrenched as high as number three in the rankings, well above Jock and even more full of himself as a result. He hadn’t really done anything of note lately, though. Too busy being a king maybe. Rat stifled a snort.
The King continued, “You understand that anything confidential mustn’t leave this room, ever, under any circumstances. David and I are trusting you with significant responsibility.”
“She won’t let you down,” volunteered Jock.
“Oh, I believe that.” The King flashed a patronising smile. “And I’m sure you’re well aware that it’s something quite unique to take girls–“
“Women,” Rat corrected him.
“–women onto the rankings, yes. Many have tried. It has never passed the vote of the Fifteen. However, if you have Jock and myself backing you, you could be in with a chance. Presuming you pass my test.”
Rat barked a laugh. “You’re kidding me, right? That’s the ‘job’ I’m supposed to be running? Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I aced that when I was twelve. I’d be on the rankings twice over with fake IDs if I could just get this fucker here to sponsor my entries.”
Standing at her shoulder, Jock shook his head and said, “We aren’t talking about that test, Lex. You aren’t a normal newbie, things can’t go the same way.”
“You’ll be working for me directly,” added the King. “I need to make a run on a fellow Hacker Nation’s private servers. Normally I would never subcontract this, but today I am making a very rare exception, just for you. Your job, your rules, your responsibility.”
Numbly, Rat stared from the King to Jock and back again. She wanted a chance, she wanted responsibility, but this . . . This had to be a joke. She looked to Jock for support, but as she met his disappointed brown eyes she knew she wouldn’t find any there.
He said, “You need something to show the Fifteen, Lex. Something that proves to them beyond a shadow of a doubt that you belong here, something they can’t ignore, or they’ll just turn you down. You have to get all the would-be reformers on your side.”
“Hey, whoa, you gotta be off your fucking nut, Jock,” she said in disbelief. Everything she’d been promised was melting away like snow in her hands. “You can’t expect me to pull this off on my own!”
“I’d never have brought you here if I didn’t believe you could do it, Lex. It ain’t an easy thing to break into a secret club founded by guys. You won’t do it unless you face the same sort of challenges we had to overcome to get where we are now. Me, Hideo, all of us.”
“You only had to take one piss-easy test!”
Jock looked down, muttering, “I’m not saying it’s fair. I’m saying this is how it is, it’s the best chance I can give you. You don’t have to take it. We can be back on the chopper in ten minutes, just say the word.”
She clenched her jaw so hard it hurt. Her whole life had been a battle against her own gender, and now every hurtful comment, every condescending look, every little humiliation she’d been forced to swallow surged up from her past with a wave of pure, towering rage. In that moment she wanted to rip the throat out of every man and woman who ever thought it was a weakness to be born without a cock.
Shivering, clenching her fists tight, she ground out, “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“You will be playing for keeps, Alex,” the King pointed out. “This is a real hack on a real system. If you get sloppy and leave any evidence, it will point only to you, and I will hand you over to them without a word of complaint. Understood?”
“Perfectly,” she replied. “Now shut up and show me your fucking rig.”
CLAIRVOYANCE: Part 24
The universe burned. New galaxies of pain exploded out of the black, blowing through the flimsy barriers of human rationality and leaving them stripped bare. Sanity shattered into a million little fragments. The only thing left was a lone scream in the darkness.
Slowly the scream eased down, the pain faded away to a black calm. There was something conscious in this empty world, but confused. It remembered too much. It remembered things that didn’t belong to it. How could that happen? Something had gone wrong, something had pulled it here, to black skies over black earth.
Gina, came a faraway whisper. The sky lit up with distant flickers of crimson in tune to the words. Answer me.
She stayed still. She was afraid.
I know you’re here, said the whisper, a little stronger than before. The sky flashed brighter. Talk to me and I’ll find you.
Somewhere inside, she ached to call out, but fear overruled that heartsick feeling. Stay silent, stay hidden. She knew she couldn’t give in to that voice.
You can’t hide from me, the whisper went on, only it wasn’t a whisper now, it was someone familiar speaking softly in the darkness. I’m not going to hurt you. There’s so much I still have to show you, you’re the only one who’ll understand.
Gabriel! she sobbed almost against her will. Then she turned and ran. She dove up through the blackness higher and higher–
–Gina bolted up with a gasp and tumbled out of her hammock. The floor hit her squarely in the back. The big wooden planks pitched and rolled with the waves, reassuring her that she was still on the Son of the Wind, still safe. She picked herself up and dusted off her naked skin.
Without warning Maryam burst into the room, wearing a frown that made her look ten years older. She stared unembarrassed at Gina, and Gina was too frazzled to try and hide herself.
Maryam said in a deadly serious monotone, “We just got word, there’s an airship come in over the town about half an hour ago. It’s headed the wrong way to go to the airport, and it’s had a helicopter ferrying people all over. You can see it from the deck.”
Trying to shake off the dream and think, Gina collected the fuzzy ideas in her head and held on to them. She jumped into some jeans and a t-shirt and let Maryam lead her up into the morning air, damp and heavy with mist. The buildings along the Potemkin Stairs gradually faded to white, but suspended in the air above the city centre was a cigar-shaped blob of colour which Gina recognised all too well. Civilian and army helicopters buzzed around it like fireflies.
She said, “Maryam, I don’t think I can stay here.”
“You’re not going anywhere with those people on the streets. What you need to do is sit down, get some breakfast in you, and stay on the boat. I’m not giving up now, which means you aren’t allowed to either.”
Gina closed her eyes, feeling tears well up behind them. She knew it couldn’t have lasted, so she only had herself to blame. She should’ve kept her distance from Mahmoud and Maryam. Shouldn’t have let them get under her skin. Everything would’ve been so much easier.
“No,” Gina husked, then had to stop to clear her throat. “This has gone far enough, Maryam. You’ve done too much already. I need to get the hell out of here before I drag you both down with me.”
Without waiting for a reply she went to her cabin and threw some of her handed-down clothes into a bag. Her only possessions in the whole wide world. Lastly she hid herself inside the big leather jacket, slung her bag over her shoulder, and tried in vain to think of something to say before she went out to face the world alone.
Words failed her. There was nothing she could say that would live up. Instead she just went, hoping that they knew how much they’d meant to her.
Maryam glanced at Gina when she emerged on deck, but didn’t say a word. She merely patted Gina’s arm and disappeared down the steps. The only sound was the soft howl of the wind whipping across the harbour.
Gina bit back tears as she clambered down onto the jetty, glad that Mahmoud wasn’t around to see her. Even a glimpse of his face would have made this so much harder. She’d be dead now if it hadn’t been for this boat and the people on it. Maybe that would’ve been better for everyone involved, but she was grateful all the same.
Mumbling a few weak goodbyes, touching the old timbers one last time, she sighed and walked away. The jetty led her onto the pier, and from the pier she could go anywhere.
So, running away, she thought. She couldn’t bear to stay on Son of the Wind and endanger the people she’d come to love. By the same token she couldn’t just go to Gabriel until she knew exactly what to do, or she might lose herself and never find her way back.
This is the best thing to do for everyone, so why do I feel like such a heel?
She kept her eyes on the Stairs — the only way she knew into the city — and shouldered her bag to begin the long lonely march. However, before she even reached the end of the jetty she saw something that made her heart stop. Mahmoud turned the corner from the direction of the Stairs and started towards her. She swallowed a cry and dashed for the nearest alley.
She watched him through the wispy white fog as he trundled past her, up the jetty and aboard his ship. By some miracle he hadn’t spotted her. He called for his wife but received no response. Frowning, he headed below-decks. He knew something was wrong.
Gina fled. She rushed headlong through the maze-like streets of the pier, a self-contained world of wet concrete and steel. Shady back alleys and overgrown byways let her avoid the main roads, and it only took a few cuts and scrapes to reach the tram tracks. She jumped onto a passing carriage going up and breathed a sigh of relief as she let her bag slump to the floor. Away, safe, free from guilt.
Free . . .
As the tram began to grind its way uphill towards the city, Gina found herself a seat in between some quiet locals and sat down to wait. She tried formulate what to do next, some kind of plan of action, but her attempts at rational thought quickly disappeared in the cold numbness at her core.
Worry about getting out of the city later, she told herself, and clenched her shaking hands. First we need a better place to hide. How do you find somewhere like that for no money at all?
She could at least answer that question, after spending half her teenage years in squats around Hong Kong. Once you found a decent slum the rest tended to take care of itself.
She hopped off the tram as soon as it reached the top of the hill. The airship still hung pendulously in the sky, casting its menacing shadow across a large swathe of the city. Gina kept her head down and her hood up to avoid face recognition. She couldn’t help glancing back one last time, though, to absorb the sea spread out below her. Steady winds were blowing the fog away inland, and although the sky above Odessa was still thick and grey, far-off rays of sunlight sparkled on the surface of the water where the clouds broke.
The view hit her in an unexpected way. She was no stranger to being on her own, but she’d never felt quite so alone. Even in her darkest days the City had been all around her; solid, familiar, almost alive. She spoke its language, knew how to carry herself through its backstreets. ‘Home’ was the wrong word, but it had been something. Now she had nothing and no one to count on but herself.
“Hey, Bomber,” she whispered into the collar of her jacket, “I really wish you were here right now. But you’re in Spain and you can’t hear me, so just take care of yourself.” She shrugged. “I’ll be okay, yeah? Street girl like me will make herself right at home.”
Steeling herself, she set off down the badly-maintained streets and searched for a place to set up for the night.
Soon the sun dipped below the nearest row of rooftops, and Gina shivered in the afternoon shade. Her ears slowly became attuned to the melody of this unfamiliar city. There was a discordant note in it, the bustle muted and uncertain. People used words Gina didn’t understand, but she got all she needed to know from their fearful glances up at the sky. The airship darkened their moods, too, like a symbol of the apocalypse.
Helicopter rotors chopped constantly in the distance. The sound made her tense up inside, even while she forced an outward calm. Nobody was going to get the drop on Gina Hart. She was a telepath, and if that dubious talent was ever going to come in handy, here and now would be it.
She kept one hand on the Spice pills hidden in her pocket. She wasn’t sure what kind of effect they’d have on her now, how crazy the world would become. Still, in a weird way, their presence was reassuring. They were there if she needed an edge, a little extra firepower against the frightening world around her.
The sun disappeared completely while she wandered alone. She passed pubs and hostels, tempted, but thought better of it. Her Conglom wasn’t great and they might remember her. She’d be better off finding a nice park bench or a dry spot under some bridge. A few years had gone by since her squatting days, but she remembered sleeping rough pretty well.
The neighbourhoods grew meaner, and the streets quietened. The background noise of kids playing and people enjoying the evening had gone. The only figures she saw walked fast and kept their heads far down. Only a few dared to look up from the pavement in front of them, and they glanced over her as if she didn’t exist.
She looked back once, wondering if she was being followed. Just a feeling. She couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean there was nothing to see. There was a lot of interference, too many unpleasant minds in the dilapidated houses around her that she didn’t want to touch. She kept walking.
Then she spotted something. It was an abandoned house on the corner of the street, boarded up and marked with a few shreds of ancient warning tape. Weeds grew waist-high in the garden and rubbish littered the path up to the front door. Iron gratings were screwed over the broken windows. There was broken glass everywhere. The place should probably have been knocked down years ago, but all the important walls were still standing.
Perfect, Gina thought, grinning, and she made a beeline for the porch.
First she tested for weak screws around the barred windows. Then she looked for a way to climb up to the second floor’s open windows. Without a crowbar or a ladder, she’d find no joy there.
One by one she exhausted every method she could remember. She kept coming up against her lack of tools. In the end she had to step back and think again, a little bit deflated, but determined to get in there.
She idly ran her hand along the rotted wood of the door, which splintered and crumbled between her fingers. Then she stared at it, an idea forming in her head. Soft as fucking powder. I could just push my way through . . .
Two swift kicks tore a big hole through the door’s bottom panel, just big enough for someone to crawl through. Gina went down on her hands and knees, buried as much of herself as possible in the oversized leather jacket, and forced her way through the splinters into the house.
She’d just started to dust herself off when an electric torch flicked on and caught her full in its beam. From behind it, a voice chuckled, “Come on in, make yourself at home.”
Silence. Gina froze, her heart in her throat, unable to move.
“You’re Gina, right?” asked the shadow behind the torch, a calm female voice with thick Australian vowels. Gina blinked against the light. She could just make out a silhouette, taller and slimmer than herself, with a mind like a blank wall. “You don’t have to answer, I know perfectly well who you are. Been following you, didn’t want to make a scene in a public place.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the patio. “Back door’s open, by the way.”
Gina bared her teeth as she climbed upright, trembling with anger and cold fear. “Go away. Tell Gabriel I don’t want to be found.”
“Tell who?” the woman said in mild surprise, then chuckled. “Sure, I’ll tell him whatever you want.”
Suddenly something cold pricked Gina’s neck, and in an instant she felt her muscles go numb. Even her mouth refused to work as she sank to the floor. She watched, paralysed, as her captor put the torch away, then calmly trussed her up with cable ties and carried her out into the night.
The next thing Gina knew she was in the boot of a car, bouncing about with no idea where she was going. The plastic ties bit into her wrists, causing her to moan through the gag in her mouth, to no avail. Anyone who could hear her wouldn’t care.
She tried making telepathic suggestions, but the woman’s mind might as well have been made of steel. Gina listened and wrestled with it for what seemed like an eternity, and the only thing she could find out about her captor was her name. Jane.
Prisoner again, she thought, disgusted at herself. Didn’t last long, did it?
The mobile phone in her pocket started to dig in. She’d already tried to get it out three times, but it wasn’t easy with both hands tied behind her back. Summoning up her energy, she made one last attempt, grinding her hip against the car’s rough upholstery. Bit by bit the phone moved. Beads of sweat rolled down her face from the effort, but she gritted her teeth and forced her muscles to obey. One last wrench brought it free.
She twisted around to hit the buttons with the tip of her nose. She called the only person who could help her now. The phone clicked as she hit the final number, and it rang. And rang again. After the third ring the call cut out completely. Gina’s heart sank and she dropped her head to the floor, exhausted.
Another turn came up, and Gina couldn’t help thinking they were driving in circles. She sighed and shifted her weight to ease the pressure on her shoulders. Her mind started to wander. There was nothing to do except lie and think.
Without even realising it, her mind ticked over, and diffuse light touched her closed eyelids. The restraints were gone and so was the car, the hum of the engine, even the rare flashes of thought from Jane. Gina was somewhere else. She stretched her sore muscles and looked up at a white place, infinite and empty, just like her first glimpse of the dreamworld in Gabriel’s head.
For a moment she thought herself alone in it. Then a sudden clap of thunder rolled over her, deafening her. A shallow dent appeared in the floor a few centimetres from her feet. She shrank back, and another dent appeared a few inches away with its own blast of noise. More dents appeared as the battering from underneath became more frantic, but the floor held. Gina imagined she could hear screaming.
On a whim, she crawled over and placed her palm against one of the white dents. She remembered the lessons Gabriel taught her. This was her dreamworld, and she could make anything happen. She willed the floor to open. It obeyed.
The scream from beneath tore at her full force, blowing her hair back from her shoulders, and in a flash she caught sight of a face underneath — Rat’s face, buried in a dark wooden coffin filled with sand — before the whiteness fell away.
