Expatria: The Box Set (33 page)

While she waited for someone to pick up her pack she glanced at the pseudo-screen. Now she could see the swarming flow of people by the cemetery's entrance. From the colours she guessed that as many as a half of them were Krishnas.

'Hey, Samizdat. Great.' The boy had found his pack again. 'Come on. A boy like you should be able to cut through this crowd, OK?'

He grinned as he gathered up his pack. 'You want Uncle Idi?' he said. 'Come on.'

It was a fantastic feeling, a crowd of this size, Stopp threading through the heart of it, people acknowledging her. She was a part of it all, it felt like when she'd first screwed with Zither and he'd said she was pretty good in a kind of a way.

After a minute on two they broke away from the main flow and cut through a stand of raffia oaks. Away from the crowd, the sound level suddenly dropped and Stopp began to feel nervous again. She looked for the pseudo-screen and was surprised to see that it had vanished.

In its place was a floating footnote, saying that precisely three minutes ago a Conventist Guard had removed the camera from its position. She cut back to Samizdat.

They struggled through a bank of scrub and then they came to a wall that stood half a metre above Samizdat's head. The noises of the carnival were loud again, coming over the wall. 'Hold on tight,' muttered Samizdat. 'Please.' Viewpoint lurched upwards, showed small hands grasping at the top of the wall, finding a grip and then the view lifted clear.

The throng just inside the cemetery was less dense than the procession had been and Samizdat made his way easily to the front. 'Uncle Idi,' he said, approaching a tall Death Krishna. 'I have brought a friend.'

Idi turned and Stopp was suddenly reminded of his beauty. Since she had seen him in Glendower the mosaic of tattoos had spread to cover his entire face. Swastikas with eye-centres flared up amongst flowers and little suns, vines twisted around his eyes where his eyebrows should have been; the eye-balls tattooed onto his eye-lids had grown more vivid since last time, tinted with saffron and ochre. 'Stopp,' he said. 'Welcome to the parade.'

'Well, hello,' said a ruddy-skinned man, staggering up and slapping Idi on the back. 'Another angel, may the gods be kissed on their shiny little behinds.' He belched and then bowed to Stopp's image.

'And this is Chet Alpha,' said Idi. 'If you haven't already met.'

'Hello,' said Stopp, trying not to laugh at the Pageant's principal prophet. 'Will you tell me what's going on?'

'Shit, you're asking
me?
' said Idi, fluttering his eyelid-eyes. 'It's been crazy as all eight hells in Newest Delhi. Mono and Jeanna tell us the Sisters are camped out here and they've gotten Matt and Sukui-san. Decker's been coming and going like flies on shit—says GenGen are going to land near here. Maybe.

'Don't ask me what's happening, kid. All I know is this is where it's at, so we're here.'

'What happens now?'

'Jay-Buddha, I don't know. They call me a Kardinal cos I've gotten a hole in my foot and then they expect me to tell them what to do. It's crazy. The Sisters aren't doing anything, so I guess we sit here and wait for a while. You hear that?' he suddenly shouted. 'We're gonna sit down, call our Haris.' A wailing momma yelled at him and he added, 'Or whatever it is you want to call. You hear me? We're gonna sit down now.'

And so they sat, on the grass, on the tombs and the wall, in their robes and their jackets and leggings, their gowns, their saris. As the noise level rose, Stopp decided she could leave them to it, so, with a quick word to Samizdat, she cut herself back to Ark Red.

~

'What links are there, ArcNet?' She didn't really want to link again, it was, too tiring, but she couldn't leave it alone, she had to be
doing
.

The list scrolled up and she picked a name. 'Lui Tsang,' she said. 'Thanks, ArcNet.' Lui had once come up into orbit as a trifax—in Alabama City there were facilities to send real trifacsimiles and Lui was the technical whiz who'd got it all together in the first place.

A picture slid upon the screen. A wide packed-mud street, people flowing turbulently along its pavements, bicycles rattling along well-used ruts in its surface. Beyond was a building fronted by wide steps which led up to a deep gallery which was thronged with traders and Charities, their voices drifting across the hum of the street, offering their herbs, their linens, their spiritual support. ArcNet fixed Lui's location as somewhere along the Route Magnificat.

Stopp had never been in this part of the city before. The big building was Merchant Chapel, the wide open space next to it was Alcazar Square. Tall metal railings marked the leftward boundary of the screen, the perimeter of the Prime's residence, the Capitol.

Stopp felt a nervous buzz that she couldn't hold down. This was a place where history had been made, this was the heart of Alabama City.

'Hey, Sunny, Arkadia, come on,' said a voice close to the mike. The tight nasal tones placed it instantly as Lui Tsang. 'He'll be back soon. If he can get it to—hey!'

Stopp's image appeared on the screen. 'Hi, I'm Stopp. You probably don't remember but we've met in orbit.'

'Sorry. I met so many up there,' said Lui. The viewpoint transmitted his shrug. 'I guess they've arrived,' he continued. 'None of you seem to be on link any more.'

Two young men moved into view, wearing the robes and skull-caps of scientists. 'This is Sun-Ray Sidhu,' said Lui. The taller man bowed his head and squinted at the trifax, translucent in the hard white light of Alabama City. 'And this is Arkadia Trentia.' The other man nodded and looked away.

'Prime Salvo is due back soon. Hey, Arko, once we got it going he told me to get out from under his feet. He said he might roll me flat.'

'Sure? Whaddya do?'

'Shit, when he looks like that you know it's time to get moving. I got out.'

'Hey, um, Lui,' said Sunny. 'Did you hear 'bout Ruby Way? Daize said he hit three delicatessen's stalls, said cheeses went rolling all over. Said he carried on like he hadn't even noticed. Jay-Bee, it's not safe out there: I walked here, left my cycle at Dixie.'

'Listen,' said Arkadia. 'Is that it?'

Stopp upped volume, filtered out the sounds of the crowd. She could hear a faint hum, a rattle, an occasional crunching sound. It was getting louder. 'Sounds like a meth engine,' she said.

'Right,' said Lui. 'Me and Sunny refurbished it ourselves. Come on, let's get a better look.'

They went down a set of four steps—a glance back showed Stopp that they had been standing in the entrance of Kensei's All Nite Convenience Store (Licensed Purveyor of the Pleasures). She wondered what it meant. Of all the places she had seen on Expatria, Alabama City was the most confusing.

They cut across the flow of pedestrians and stepped off the pavement to stand in the gutter. 'Hey, do you think...?' Sun-Ray hadn't left the pavement. He was hanging back, waiting by a tall, post with an unlit lamp on top. 'I mean...'

Just then three cyclists came racing past, so close to the camera that Stopp flinched. One of the cyclists had ridden straight through her image. It made her feel a little sick.

'They looked like the devil was up their ass,' said Arkadia.

The noise of the meth engine was much louder now, approaching along the Route Magnificat. People were stopping to look; others made for cover. Lui Tsang stepped back onto the pavement and stood by the lamp-post with his two companions.

The first thing Stopp saw was the scoop, a wide bucket with metal teeth, hinged onto a jointed arm with pistons and flexijoints, juddering as it progressed over the ruts of the roadway. The scoop had been painted in rainbow bands of red and yellow and green and blue, its arm was wrapped in streamers and lace-work, sheets of netting embroidered with moons and stars and mountains. Behind the scoop was the vehicle itself—huge wheels topped by little more than an open platform with a seat, a steering lever, a foot throttle. A Prime.

It had to be the Prime—it fitted all she had ever heard about Salvo Andric of Alabama City. He was a huge man with a long fiery beard, his face was flushed with exertion and his Primal gowns hung from him, spreading out over his turbulent belly, darkened by the sweat under his arms.

The digger lurched drunkenly from side to side, scattering those foolish enough to remain in the street, sending a cyclist tumbling over a pile of garbage that had been put out for sorting. Prime Salvo laughed and waved as he passed his people, occasionally bellowing out to someone he recognised, his words made unclear by the distance.

'The Prime has had his jalopy for two days,' whispered Lui Tsang. 'He is very proud of it. I think it might go irreparably wrong next time I work on it.' He chuckled and the jalopy drew nearer.

'Tsang!' The voice seemed to go deeper than the lowest bass ArcNet could register. 'Tsang! Why are you skulking behind that pillar? You're not so thin that you cannot be seen.'

'My lord,' said Lui, stepping out onto the deserted pavement and bowing. 'You are astute, as ever.'

Prime Salvo laughed, tipping his head back. The jalopy had slowed to a crawl; now it was almost level with Lui Tsang. 'Come on board,' he called. 'Have the ride of your lifetime.'

Lui grabbed the passing rail of the digger's platform and swung himself easily up. 'I hope it is not the last, my lord.'

'Hah! And you can bring that snivelling ghost, too, if you want. I'm feeling expansive.' Stopp had been hanging back. Now she let her trifax leap up onto the accelerating jalopy and smiled as ArcNet put a convincing stumble into her landing. 'So.' He turned back to Lui. 'What do you think of it then? Hah? Hah?'

'I think there is a lamp-post ahead, my lord.' Lui grabbed hold of the back of the driver's seat and Prime Salvo glanced ahead.

'That's nothing,' he said, flicking the steering lever to one side, missing the post by centimetres. 'They don't bend easily. They are jelebab, only the best materials. Here we go.'

The jalopy suddenly swung out in a sharp turn. Troopers in black leathers hesitated and then threw themselves away from the tall metal gates as the jalopy ground to a stop outside the Capitol's entrance. 'Come
on
,' groaned the Prime. He thumped at a button and a loud horn blasted into the still air. 'Come on, I want to get inside.' Cautiously, the troopers returned to their positions and two of them swung the big gates back, letting the jalopy through.

The Capitol was a vast building, pillars and columns scattered liberally throughout its design, beacons lighting any recesses that would dare to be in shade. The Prime leapt down from his digger and marched up the front steps, letting the machine come to a halt under its own weight.

Lui and Stopp jumped down and followed Prime Salvo.

They entered a long corridor that was lined with pillars. 'My lord,' said Lui, hurrying to catch up. 'Stopp, here, has some news that might be of interest.

'Did Sukui never teach you that you should not speak to me until requested?' Salvo glared at Lui and Stopp felt that he was glaring right out of the screen at her.

'Yes, my lord,' said Lui. 'Sukui-san tried to teach me a lot of things.'

Prime Salvo smiled like a small boy. 'He told that to everybody, God knows why! I am not a difficult man, am I? Hmm?'

Lui cleared his throat and said, 'Stopp, here, has some news, my lord.'

Prime Salvo turned and confronted the trifax, crouching so that his eyes were level with those of the image, his nose centimetres from its, his hands impatiently on his knees. He curled his lips up and snarled, swatting one great hand through the projection and then back again. 'Must I talk to ghosts?' he demanded. 'What is wrong with the world?'

There was a silence and then Lui said, 'Go on, Stopp. He means he'd like you to speak if you'd be so kind.'

'Sir,' Stopp began tentatively. 'The ship from Earth has matched orbits fifteen kilometres behind Station Yellow. They have been here for two days now. They are planning to land near to Newest Delhi. That is the latest information I have, my lord.'

The Prime spun away, shaking his head. 'Are they joining forces with the Hanrahans?' he said quietly. 'Is there going to be war again? So soon? What do you make of it, Lui Tsang? Hmm?'

'My lord, I do not think we have enough information.' Lui's tone was subservient now.

'Have you investigated my plans for the rocket launchers?' The Prime's gaze was suddenly direct, hard.

'Sir.' Lui was clearly struggling to find the correct words. 'I am an electronics man, I would not know where to begin. Have you considered—'

'Then find me someone who can do it! Don't just stand there. Why do you need everything to be explained: are you an imbecile? Hah? Oh gods, where is Kasimir Sukui when he is needed? He would know what should be done.'

Lui kept his upper body bowed so that the screen showed only the marble paving slabs and the Prime's feet and shins.

'Well? What are you standing there for? Get out of my sight! I am tired, I need some rest.'

Lui straightened and the screen showed the Prime's retreating back.

'I'd better go now,' said Stopp. 'Good luck.'

The screen blanked out, the list of links scrolled back up. Stopp stretched and sneezed, wished she didn't feel so rough. 'Can you get me Samizdat?' she said.

The picture slid up. The Deadacre, pretty much as it had been before, Krishnas and Charities sitting in tidy lotuses, humming psalms or chanting Hari-haris. But there was a loud noise washing over everything else and the viewpoint was tipped upwards, a result of the boy leaning back and staring at the sky.

It was there, a bright spot up above, growing, swelling, coming straight for them.

As the fireball expanded the people around Samizdat leapt to their feet and ran for the gates and the cemetery wall. Samizdat was transfixed, staring at the growing form of the GenGen shuttle, a dark cylinder cocooned in fire. In the distance, the Conventists were hurrying towards their own side of the Deadacre, shepherding their captives as they went, giving up as small groups made successful bids for freedom.

Viewpoint jerked and Stopp glimpsed Idi Mondata lifting Samizdat and throwing him across his shoulder.