Terminal World (12 page)

‘Might I ask what happened to you?’ Quillon enquired.

‘Take a guess.’

‘If I knew nothing about you, I’d say that you were the victim of an industrial accident. But that wouldn’t account for the symmetry of the metal plates on either side of your head. Nor the fact that you mentioned killing angels. Were you a soldier, Tulwar?’

‘What do
you
think,
Doctor
?’

‘It’s been generations since anyone went to war against the angels. Even then it was only one or two cyborg polities, and that was a long time ago. But they say cyborgs live nearly as long as angels. Is that what you used to be, Tulwar?’

‘Judge for yourself.’

Quillon took a careful sip from his own glass. ‘You would have been neurally integrated into your battle armour, much of your nervous system bonded directly to the armour’s sensory interface. Those plates in your head were probably where the primary input trunks fed through your skull. The missing eye might be an old injury that was never repaired, or it might have been where the organic eye was replaced by some kind of targeting device. I don’t know how you lost the arm, whether that was deliberate or not. I do know that your internal organs would have been extensively modified, your heart and lungs replaced with an oxygen-exchange pump, the rest of your insides plumbed directly into the battle-armour’s recycling system. Inside it, you could live indefinitely. Without the armour, you’d be dead in seconds. Even in the polities.’

‘I seem to be clinging on.’

‘Only because someone was very ingenious. Someone found a way to keep you alive, in a world where even the simplest electrical device cannot function. You run on steam, from a wood-burning boiler.’

Tulwar started to unbutton the rest of his shirt. ‘You want a closer look, see what really makes me tick?’

Meroka took another gulp from her glass and looked away. ‘No offence, Tulwar, but you’re hard enough on the eyes before you start the guided tour.’

Quillon raised a hand. ‘It’s not necessary.’

‘Come on,
Doctor
. And you a man of medicine. How could you possibly turn down an offer like that?’ Tulwar tugged the shirt wide around his navel area, exposing a hinged inspection panel curving across the base of the chest-plate. He began to undo the catch at the other end. ‘I’m not ashamed of what I am. I was proud to be a soldier; proud to be given the honour of defending the polity against angels. So what if the war took half of me away? I still earned these scars.’

‘I don’t need to see inside you,’ Quillon said.

‘Not even a little bit curious?’

‘Of course I am. If I could help you I would. But I’d have to examine you properly, and there wouldn’t be any point in doing that until I’ve returned to Spearpoint. At the moment, this little bag is all I’m travelling with.’ Quillon paused delicately. ‘I take it you’ve been like this for a while?’

‘Longer than you’d credit.’

‘Then you’re probably not going to catch anything before I have a chance to come back.’

Tulwar locked the catch and began to button his shirt again. ‘You’d do that?’

‘You’re a friend of Fray’s. That’s all the recommendation I need.’

Amusement glittered in Tulwar’s eye. ‘Friend. That what he said?’ ‘That’s what I said,’ Meroka cut in. ‘Quillon’s only repeating what I told him.’

‘“Underling” might have been a more apposite term to describe my relationship to Fray, don’t you think?’

‘That’s between you and the man upstairs.’

‘You shouldn’t speak of Fray as if he’s God,’ Tulwar said disapprovingly. ‘Especially you, Meroka, being so religiously inclined. She’s never without her Testament, Doctor. Goes everywhere with her, it does. You’d never think it, would you, with that tongue of hers?’

Quillon started to say something, then thought better of it.

‘Fray’s been good to you,’ Meroka said. ‘He set you up down here, didn’t he, when you became an embarrassment to your own side? Gave you a place to hide, a nice, steady supply of steam?’

‘He gets his cut from Madame Bistoury, so let’s not pretend there’s anything philanthropic about it. Do you see him paying me many visits, enquiring about my welfare, asking if there’s something I’d rather be doing than shovelling coal into a boiler for the rest of my time on Earth?’

‘You know he doesn’t get out much more than you do, Tulwar.’

‘At least Fray gets to leave the basement occasionally.’

Quillon put down his glass and looked at Meroka. ‘We shouldn’t take too long before moving on, should we?’

‘Oh, don’t mind us,’ Tulwar said, breaking into a lopsided smile. ‘Meroka and I fight like cats, and bicker incessantly over Fray, but we go back a long way. It’s just our act.’

‘Although sometimes it starts wearing thin,’ Meroka said.

‘Go easy, I’m having a bad day. We’re down a consignment of wood, which means steam pressure might have to be dropped. That hurts me as much as it hurts the bathhouse. Ordinarily I’d put out the feelers for some more fuel, but it’s not like anyone else is rolling in wood either. Been the same all winter. Supplies running low, having to be dragged in from further and further away, and what you get isn’t the best quality. Firesap’s in just as short supply. It’s going to be a cold one, too. You wouldn’t think I feel it down here, but you’d be wrong.’ He gave a philosophic shrug. ‘Good for business, though. You think this is cold, wait until you’ve left Spearpoint.’ Tulwar gave Quillon a lingering look. ‘Hope you’ve got the constitution for it, Doctor. It can take its toll.’

‘Speaking of leaving,’ Meroka said, ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea to go on the train.’

‘Forget it,’ Tulwar agreed. ‘After that trouble you caused, there’ll be more than just angels trying to track you down. Police in Neon Heights will already have tubed descriptions down to the Steamville constabulary. They’ll have every station scoped by now.’

‘We’ll need to use one of the alternatives, then. Is that an option?’

‘We’ll sort something out. In the meantime, given the amount of ammunition you appear to have discarded on the way down, you’re welcome to replenish your supplies.’ He jerked his head in a kind of stiff-necked nod, over his shoulder. ‘Through the back door, remember? Take what you need, and leave anything you don’t.’

‘Thanks,’ Meroka said.

‘Pick up some new watches as well. Good for antizonals?’

‘We have all we require,’ Quillon said, patting the bag.

‘Fine.’ Tulwar refilled his drink and offered the bottle to Quillon, who declined with a polite elevation of his hand. ‘While you’re in there, there are some medical issues I’d like to go over with Doctor Quillon.’

Meroka nodded and went into the back room, seemingly glad to have the chore to herself. Tulwar waited silently until she was out of earshot, then made the lopsided smile at Quillon.

‘You’re good, I’ll give you that,’ he said.

‘Good at what?’

‘Good at hiding what you really are. Unless I’m mistaken, Meroka hasn’t got a clue what she’s escorting out of Spearpoint. Probably all the better for you. She’s about as keen on angels as I am,
Doctor Quillon.’

‘You seem to be under some misapprehension.’

‘No, I don’t think so. It’s all about smell, you see.’ Tulwar tapped a wooden finger against the side of his nose. ‘I could smell an angel halfway across the street. Doesn’t matter what they look like. Sure, you’ve been made to look human - pretty damn well, I have to say. But they still didn’t get it quite right.’ Tulwar frowned, drawing the skin tight at the corners of the metal plates in his head. ‘Did Fray know, when he set up this extraction? Of course he knew. How could Fray
not
know?’

Quillon looked down at his hands. Part of him wanted to persist with his denials, but a shrewder part knew that there was no point in doing so.

‘Fray knew,’ he answered quietly.

‘What I figured. And Meroka?’

‘Not as far as I’m aware.’ Quillon stiffened in his seat. ‘I’m sorry that we’ve ended up in this position. No deception was intended, I assure you.’

‘You’re a walking deception.’

‘What good would it do for the truth to be revealed? I’m running from angels. My cover is the only protection I have. Do you think I’m going to advertise what I am?’

‘Let me tell you about Meroka,’ Tulwar said. ‘She wasn’t always like this. She likes women. That’s her bag. I’m not making any judgements here, just telling you how it is. Once upon a time there was someone special, someone she really loved. But that woman got ill with something they can’t treat down here. The angels, though? Maybe. They can do wonders up there, in the Celestial Levels. So they were petitioned, there are channels for that, and asked if they’d consent to fix the woman, make her better. They do this, take a certain number of deserving cases each year, just the same way it works on Ascension Day. But the woman - her name was Ida - couldn’t afford to go all the way up there on her own, and no one around her could afford it either. The angels said they couldn’t help: they weren’t really interested, I think. They suck your soul out up there, read your mind, but that’s only of use to them if your mind hasn’t been half eaten away to begin with. So Ida got worse, and Ida’s friends tried to find the means to send her up there, but by the time they scraped enough together it was too late. They dosed her with antizonals but she still didn’t get further up than Circuit City. Meroka was with her. Died in her arms. That’s why she doesn’t go a bundle on angels. That’s why she won’t go a bundle on you, she finds out.’ Tulwar studied Quillon for several silent moments. ‘So what do you think’s going to happen now?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Take a stab.’

‘Perhaps you’re going to kill me, or reveal my nature to Meroka, or turn me in to the authorities, or keep me hostage until you’re able to hand me over to the angels.’

‘And get on Fray’s bad side? He could end me, if I betrayed him. He’s been good to me, I can’t deny that. Even if he is a stupid, unimaginative fuck who wouldn’t recognise an opportunity to better himself if it landed on his skull.’

‘He’s been good to me,’ Quillon said.

‘Then we’re in the same boat. Both hiding from something, both owing Fray. There are few things I’d rather do right now than reach across this table and strangle you. But as the old saying goes, the enemy of my enemy—’

‘Is my friend. But there’s something you need to understand. We’re not all monsters. I made enemies precisely because I refused to countenance an evil deed.’

Tulwar looked towards the back room, where Meroka was still busy sorting through the munitions stockpile. ‘What kind of deed?’

‘There was an experimental programme. The stated intention was to modify angels so that we could live under conditions similar to those in Neon Heights. The theory was that we could engineer in resilience to a future zone shift, so that we wouldn’t all have to die if the boundary moved catastrophically.’

‘So the angels are nervous as well.’

‘About what?’

‘The big one. I’m sure you’ve noticed the signs - everyone getting more jittery by the day.’

‘It might not happen for a hundred years, or a thousand.’

‘Some folks think otherwise. Your angel programme suggests that at least a few in the Celestial Levels have grounds for concern.’

Quillon leaned forwards, lowering his voice even as he spoke more urgently. ‘That’s the point, though: the programme’s stated objectives were a sham. We were sent to Neon Heights to test our ability to survive inside a different zone, with only the simplest of medicines to assist us. Obviously, those conditions couldn’t be simulated in the Levels: it had to be done covertly. I understood that, just as I understood that we had to maintain maximum secrecy at all times. But there was more to it than just a proof of concept. The ultimate purpose of the programme was to prepare an occupying force, a division of zone-tolerant angels able to storm and conquer large tracts of Spearpoint. There were four members of the infiltration party. Two of us didn’t know anything about that ultimate purpose. When one of us found out ... the other two had no choice but to silence her. But she’d already shared her fears with me. They’d have silenced me eventually. I chose not to give them the chance. I killed them, using medicine. That’s why I’m hiding now.’

‘At least you were built for the terrain,’ Tulwar said.

‘It’s been easier for me than it has for you. But there’s one thing you need to understand. When they sent me down to Neon Heights they equipped me to live there undetected. They suppressed my real memories and gave me the ghost memories of someone who had been born and raised in the Heights. I’ve been wearing that mask for nine years, long enough that it feels like a part of me. I still care about the Celestial Levels. But I also care about Neon Heights, and for that matter the rest of Spearpoint. If something big is coming, then the last thing we should be doing is fostering more divisions between our different enclaves.’

‘And if I kill you, or turn you in, that’s what I’ll be doing?’

‘All I know is that the knowledge I carry - the knowledge I’m
told
I carry - could be a force for good, as well as evil. I really don’t care about my own life. But I do care about Spearpoint, and if my continued survival benefits it, then I have a moral obligation to keep myself alive.’

‘This woman they killed - the one who got too close to the truth. She wasn’t just a colleague, was she?’

‘No,’ Quillon said. ‘She wasn’t.’

‘She have a name?’

‘Aruval. That was her cover. I don’t remember her real name.’

‘I lost someone special once. To angels, as well. I don’t know if that means I ought to empathise with you or hate you even more.’

‘I can’t help you there,’ Quillon said.

Tulwar leaned back, only the wheezing
chuff
of his life-support system filling the silence. He bent over to inspect one of the dials in his belly. ‘Need to put some more fuel in shortly. Needle’s starting to drop.’