Authors: Iain M. Banks
Feersum Endjinn (34 page)
Heez sittin on a perch, Im sat on thi floar. Thi room iz funnil shaped & thi brod sirkulir roof has a imidje ov a blu sky wif litil flufy clouds in it. Thers anuthir ½ dozen or so uthir lammergeiers perchd aroun thi room 2.
U ½ been a propir pest 2 sertin peepil, mastir Bascule, thi big bird sez, stairin @ me & rokin from side 2 side & sorta stampin itz feet on thi perch. A moast persistent pest.
Thang u very mutch, I sez.
That woz not a complimint! thi bird screetchiz, flapin.
I sit bak, blinkin (my Is r stil a bit soar aftir ol that wind roarin past me when I fel). Whot do u meen? I ask.
Itz qwite possibil that we ½ givin away our noo posishin heer by turnin on thi lift fans so we cude save yoor miserabil hide! thi bird shouts.
Wel, sory Im shure, but I woz toald u mite ½ sum informayshin about thi whareabouts ov a frend ov mine.
What? thi hed bird sez, soundin puzzld. Who?
Itz a ant. Hir name is Ergates.
Thi bird starez @ me. Yoor lookin 4 a ant? he sqwaks, & sounz increduliss.
A ver speshil ant. (I naro my Is.) Whot woz taikin by a
lammergeier.
lammergeier.
Thi bird shaiks itz hed. Wel, it woznt dun by 1 ov us, it sez, shakin its fevirs.
O yeh? I sez.
We r chimerix, mastir Bascule. This . . . ant muss ½ bin taikin by a wild lammergeier.
& whare r they then? I ask. (Dam, fot I woz on thi rite trak @ last!)
Ded, thi hed bird sez.
I blink my Is. Ded?
Thi state had them kild during yesterday evening when it reelized we opoasd it; moast ov them wer mobbed by chimeric crows & brot down. We bleev we wer thi reel targets. 2 ov us wer cot & distructid. Ol thi wild lammergeiers r ded.
O, I sed. O deer, I thot.
Hmm, I sed, I doan supoase u no if eny ov them sed anythin about—?
Wait a minit, thi bird sez, waivin 1 wing @ me. It cloases its Is 4 a momint. It opinz them agen.
It lukes stedily @ me 4 a momint, then sorta ½ shaiks its hed. Wel, mastir Bascule, it sez. As I sed, u ½ been nuthing if not persistint. & u ½ not been fritind 2 risk yoor life. It stamps its feet agen. Ther is sumthin u mite do.
Do 4 what, 4 who?
I cant tel u 2 mutch, yung sir; itz best 4 u if u doant no 2 mutch, beleev me; but ther r sum very importint things happening rite now, things whitch affect - & whitch wil affect - ol ov us. Thi state — thi peepil who ½ atakd owr frends thi sloths & ½ tried 2 kil u - r tryin 2 prevent sumthing happening. Wil u giv us yoor help in making it happin?
Whot
happenin? I ask, suspishiss. They say thers a emisiry from thi kaotic bits ov thi kript aroun, wantin 2 infect thi uppir layers.
happenin? I ask, suspishiss. They say thers a emisiry from thi kaotic bits ov thi kript aroun, wantin 2 infect thi uppir layers.
Thi big bird shayks its wings impayshintly. Thi emisiry, it sez, is kold an asoora & it is from 1 ov thi few parts ov thi kript whitch haz not bin tutched by thi kaos. It carrys within it thi meens ov our salvayshin, but its mishin is in jeperdy; the state oposes it 2 bcoz thi fulfilment ov its mishin wude — conseevibly - meen thi end ov thi presint power structyoor. Ov coarse thi state has used thi bogey ov thi kaos 2 atemt 2 turn uthirs agenst thi asoora & those who wude aid it. Thi fact remanes it iz our only hoap. If it duz not sukseed we r ol lost.
I shift my bum a bit. I reely shude ½ askd 2 cleen up a bit b4 ol this. Not that a playce whare lammergeiers r iz likely 2 b big on washrooms, judjin from thi state ov sum ov thi floars Ive seen aroun her. Im finkin fru whot thi hed geezirs juss toal me. It mite b tru, but I ver mutch dout am been toald thi hoal trufe heer.
& whot am I suposed 2 do? I ask.
Thi hed bird lukes distinkly uncumfortabil, & flaps itz wings a bit. Itz danegeris, it sez.
Id kinda gessd that, I sez urbainly, feelin pritti groan-up, thangu ver mutch. Whot did u ½ in mind? I ask.
Thi lammergeier fixiz me wif its ice-blak Is. Goan bak up thi fass-towr, it sez. Only hi-er this time. (It stamps its feet, 1 aftir anuthir, & thi uthir burdz do thi saim thing.) Mutch hi-er.
I sit bak. Frotes gon a bit dry.
U got a toilit I cude yooz? I ask.
Lukes like thi hoal bleedin fass-towrs juss pakd wif shafts. Weer heer @ thi foot ov anuthir 1. Itz biggir than thi 1 I fel down; a lot bigir. This is thi 1 in thi centir ov thi towr & it muss b eesily ½ a kilometir acros. Very faynt lite filtirs down from . . . blimey, I doan no; helluva far up, thas 4 shure.
We r heer curtisy ov thi war, thi hed bird telz me. Both sides think thi uthir controlz this space.
O reely.
Yes; thi fact they may b about 2 reech an acomadayshin shortly is anuthir reezin 4 ther bein a degree ov urjinsy about thi presint sityooayshin.
Thi hed bird is perchd wif his ½ dozen pals on whot lukes like a peece ov crumpild, soot-blakind missile rekidje neer thi centir ov thi shaft base. Uthir lammergeiers r flittin about thi place fru thi shados. Thi rok floar ov thi shaft lukes like it used 2 b smooth but itz ol chipt & skard now & literd wif bits ov broakin mashines. Thers a dubil set ov rales leedin in from thi side ov thi shaft whitch is whare we came from; thers a big cavern thare whot lukes like a mooseum ov rokit flite or sumfing; fool ov big sheds & misteeryus bits ov eqwuipmint & rustin missiles & big sferikil tanx & telescopes & radar dishis & deflatid silvir baloons like discardid bolgounz.
I luke strate up. Didn no u cude get vertigo lukin up.
This iz thi mane shaft, thi hed bird sez, & poziz. 1nce it led 2 thi stars.
I luke up agen & I can bleev it. My hed spins @ thi thot & I olmost fol ovir.
Thi top ov thi fass-towr has bin inaxessibil 4 as long as enybodi or anything can remember, thi lammergeier telz me. Meny atemts ½ bin made, moastly in secrit, 2 reetch its hites. Ol ½ fayled, as far as we no. It lifts up 1 foot & lukes down @ thi bit ov missile itz perchd on. U c sum ov thi rekidje around u.
Uh-huh, I sez. Sumfin up thare keeps shootin them down, yeh?
No; but ther apeers 2 b an armurd conical base 2 thi towrs upir reetches @ about 20 kilometirs whitch nobody has bin abil 2 penitrate.
I luke roun @ ol thi missile rekidje. Thi offorities doan yoozhily let airplanes operate wifin thi cassil 4 feer ov a crash weekinin thi struktyir, let aloan missiles. U cant help wunderin whot sorta damidje has bin dun up thare by ol this rekd hardware.
So? I sez.
We ½ a final vacyoom baloon, thi lammergeier sez.
A whot?
A vacyoom baloon, it repeets. Teknikly, a very strong impermeebil membrane encloasin a hi vacyoom & fitid wif a harnis.
A harnis, I sed.
+, we ½ sum hi-altitood breevin eqwipmint.
U ½, ½ u? I sez. (& am finkin, 0-0 ...)
Yes, mastir Bascule. We r askin u 2 take thi baloon up as far as u can & then clime sum way beyond thi levil thi baloon attanes.
Iz that posibil? How far up we tokin?
It is sertinly posibil, tho not without risk. Thi altitood is aproximitly 20 kilometirs.
Haz enybudy els bin up that hi?
They ½.
They get bak down agen?
Yes, thi lammergeier sez, stampin from side 2 side agen & flappin its wings out a bit. Sevril mishins ½ ataned sutch hites in thi past.
Whot am I suposed 2 do up thare?
U wil b givin a pakidje 2 tak wif u. Ol u ½ 2 do is diliver it.
Whare? Who 2?
U wil c when u get thare. I cant tel u eny moar.
If this is so urjint, how cum u gies cant do it? I ask, lukin roun @ thi othir birdz.
1 ov our numbir tryd, thi hed bird sez. We beleev he is ded. Anuthir woz about 2 mount a sekind atempt juss b4 u apperd but we wer not veri hoapful ov suxess. Thi problem is that we canot fly 2 a ½ ov thi altitood reqwired, & 1ce thi baloon wil rise no moar simply woking up steps apeers 2 b thi best meens ov gainin hite. We r not bilt for wokin. U r.
I fink about ol this.
It is a simpl task in a sens, thi hed lammergeier sez, but without it thi asooras mishin wil shurely fale. Howevir, this is a danejiris undertaikin. If u lak thi curidje 2 taik it on then b shure that moast hoomins wood feel thi saim way. Probly thi sensibil fing 2 do is 2 turn it doun. U r bairly an adolesint, aftir ol.
Thi hed bird lowirs his nek a litil & lukes roun @ his 2 neereist pals.
We ask 2 mutch, he sez, soundin sorofool. Cum - & he starts 2 opin his wings as if 2 fly away.
I swolo hard.
Il do it, I sez.
1
The cell was dark. She had been troubled by strange dreams and awoke, restless and disturbed in her narrow cot. She tried to get back to sleep but could not. She lay on her back, trying in vain to remember what she had been dreaming about. She opened her eyes to the darkness, and when she rolled over again noticed a tiny glow of pale light coming from the floor. She gazed down at it. It was like a pearl, lit from inside, and so faint she could only see it when she didn’t look straight at it. She put her hand out to touch it. It felt cold. It was stuck to the floor. She caught a hint of movement inside, and got out of the bed, kneeling on the floor and putting one eye up to the tiny glowing pearl.
Inside the pearl she saw ice and snow and cloud and somebody standing dressed in furs.
Without hesitating, she plucked the pearl from the floor. It was damp and cold in her fingers, like ice. The tiny hole in the floor glowed more brightly now; the scene below was clearer. She wished she could slip through into that other place, and found herself shrinking — or the hole and the cell around her expanding - until she was able to do just that.
She awoke on a frozen lake; a huge sheet of ice stretching smoothly away in every direction to a pale grey horizon. Above was a roof of white cloud.
It was very cold. She was dressed in a fur hat and a calf-length coat. Her boots were long and her hands were clasped together inside a fur muff. Her breath smoked in front of her.
In the distance she saw a black dot. It gradually enlarged until eventually it resolved into a man rowing a kind of spindly frame across the ice. He didn’t turn round to look at her, but stopped rowing some distance away and coasted to a halt level with her and about a stone’s throw distant. He wore a thin, tight-fitting one-piece suit and a thin cap. He sat, still not looking at her, breathing hard and leaning forwards to rest on the claw-oars he held.
She looked down at her boots, which became ice skates. She glided over and stopped neatly, facing him.
He was middle-aged but fit-looking in a stocky, compact sort of way. There was a sculpted leanness hinted at in his face and his hair was thick and black. He looked slightly surprised. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he asked.
‘Asura,’ she said, nodding. ‘And you?’
‘Hortis,’ he said. He turned and looked around and behind him. ‘I thought I was alone here. They don’t usually . . .’ his voice trailed off as he looked back at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘What do you want here?’ he asked her.
‘Nothing,’ she said.
‘They all want something,’ he said, sounding bitter. ‘You must, too. What is it?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what I want,’ she admitted. ‘I wanted to be here, and I’m here.’ She thought. ‘I can’t go anywhere else. They keep trying to make me answer questions. Apart from—’
‘And you’re not ill or sick or needing to be rescued?’ he asked, a sneer on his face.
‘No,’ she told him, puzzled. ‘Are you?’
‘Only from this nonsense,’ he said, not looking at her, but checking the angle of the claw-oars. He levered them back and flicked them down into the ice. ‘Tell them nice try; at least they’re getting more subtle.’ He pulled on the claw-oars and the A-shaped frame rumbled off across the ice, gaining speed with each sweep of the oars the man made.
She hesitated, then set off after him, skating smoothly in his wake. He looked annoyed. He lengthened his stroke, trying to outdistance her, but she kept up with him. She loved the feel of the ice under the blades on her feet and the cold air on her face. Warmth spread from her legs as she pushed after the man in his strange, spindly craft. He was pulling quite hard now and she was struggling to keep up, but he didn’t look comfortable with the pace he’d set either. His face grew more angry-looking.
She wanted to laugh, but did not.
‘How long have you been here?’ she asked him.
She thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, ‘Too damn long.’ He gave one explosive sigh and settled back to a more steady rowing rhythm, seemingly giving up his attempt to pull away from her.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked.
‘I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours,’ he said, smiling humourlessly, and shook his head as he watched his claw-oars flick and bite.
‘Where did you come from?’ she asked patiently.
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