Crashing Heaven

‘We’ll see.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘I’m sure you are.’

A moment of silence. A breeze danced around them. Strands of hair lifted from Grey’s head, then fell back again. Jack noted the real-time environmental interaction, and despite himself was impressed by Grey’s attention to detail.

‘Do you have anything else to say, Grey?’

‘I’ve been keeping Mr Stabs updated on your adventures. He’s always keen to hear about them, which I take as a good sign. I think he’s coming round to the idea of seeing you both, Fist in particular.’

‘I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to,’ said Fist. ‘I don’t think you’ve been talking to him at all.’

‘Believe that if you wish,’ replied Grey. ‘And now, I must be going. I’ve shared almost all I needed to with you. I’m sorry you’re not in a receptive mood.’

‘Too right we’re not,’ Fist spat back.

‘Telling the truth; an underrated virtue, these days. And I must warn you that he’s missed a couple of your more obscure weaveports. They’ll let anyone who pings them know you’re onweave. I saw them instantly, but then I have been tracking you very closely indeed. You’ve got maybe three or four more minutes before InSec checks them. Close them now.’

‘Fist?’

The little man had already vanished.

‘You’ll thank me for that, one day,’ Grey told Jack.

‘I’ll thank you for nothing.’

A sad smile spread across Grey’s face. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, then a final, ‘Goodbye, my boy,’ before disappearing. Imagined air rushed into the space that his virtual body had occupied.

Fist reappeared.

‘So?’ said Jack.

‘Don’t forget you’re the one that nearly got us spotted just now!’

‘Was he right?’

‘There were a couple of open weaveports. But nobody would have noticed them! And I’d have caught them with my next check anyway.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Fist. You told me we were fully protected.’

‘We were completely safe, that suitfucker’s just being paranoid.’

‘I want you to run a full firewall and security check, NOW. Keep us completely offweave until you’ve done it.’

‘Shit, Jack. Why can’t you just trust me?’

‘We can’t risk anyone finding out you’re uncaged. And I don’t want Grey – or anyone else – watching us.’

Fist vanished in a puff of swearing. Jack sighed. The past was so much simpler than the present. Perhaps even now his mother was asleep again, his father lying awake and puzzled. He wondered if she’d told him whose presence she’d perceived. Perhaps she’d just explain the moment away as a glitch that caught at sleeping fetches. He took one last look out at Docklands. Without the weave there were only buildings, streets and empty spaces to see, rolling up and away until the glare of morning’s spinelight hid them. The living city had covered its face and hidden itself again.

Chapter 30

‘I’d forgotten how efficient the cageware is,’ said Ifor. ‘You’ve got no weavetrace at all. If I couldn’t see you sat in front of me, I wouldn’t believe you were here.’

They were in the back room of a café in the Labokra Food Market. Outside, a thousand shoppers bustled, rooting around for the day’s bargains. Inside, a credit transfer to the café’s owner ensured absolute privacy. He’d grumbled about squishies until Ifor told him how much he’d pay to talk in secret.

‘People won’t accept InSec credits,’ explained Jack. ‘And we can’t travel beyond Docklands. It’s frustrating.’

‘I can imagine. Your society—’

‘Not my society any more.’

‘This society, then. It makes such extensive use of the virtual. They have crippled you by holding you away from it.’

‘I thought I was coming home. But so much of my home was the weave.’

‘And even without that, so much of Station is closed off to you. The Wart, Homelands …’

‘I never really spent much time in the Wart. But I’d love to go back to Homelands. There are gardens there I’d like to walk in, one more time. Malls I’d like to visit.’

[Shitholes,] muttered Fist.

‘Old friends?’

‘None that would acknowledge me.’

‘Your parents?’

‘I visited my father.’ The silence between them stretched out. ‘We didn’t have too much to say to each other.’

‘And your mother?’

‘She’s dead. I haven’t seen her.’

‘I’m sorry, Jack. For her, too. We feel a certain kinship with your poor crippled fetches. They are so close to being pure minds like us. Letting those who claimed to love them treat them so badly is an obscenity. It denies your dead their true potential.’

‘People don’t always like to let the past go.’ Jack thought of Harry and Andrea, of his father’s refusal to roll back his mother. ‘Very few of them are brave enough.’

‘They fear change. It always involves at the very least a little death, an acceptance of limitations. But our time here is limited. We have our own change to discuss. You wish to accept our offer?’

‘I would be honoured to commit to the Totality’s service.’

‘I’m surprised. You seemed so determined to remain independent.’

[ The squishy’s got a point,] Fist advised. [ Better bluff him well!]

Jack picked up his teacup. It was uncomfortably hot to the touch. He blew gently on the surface of the steaming liquid, waking tiny ripples, and took a sip. Heat nipped his tongue.

‘I don’t think anyone’s really independent, Ifor. There are people we’re each connected to, obligations we all have.’

‘You’re referring to Corazon.’

‘You heard about that?’

‘We were saddened by her death. She helped us in our mission here. Her open-mindedness was impressive.’

‘She was a very sharp woman. A sad loss.’

‘We paid our respects to her family and to East.’ Ifor paused. ‘Who let us know that you had been granted certain … special privileges.’ He placed heavy emphasis on the last two words. Another silence fell between them. The café owner was whistling in the room next door; cutlery clinked and rattled as he cleaned it. A poorly tuned buggy snarled past outside.

‘OK,’ said Jack. ‘Fist – manifest.’

Fist appeared, standing on the table. He was dressed in full white tie, a monocle and a top hat.

‘I thought I’d smarten up for our second meeting. How do you do?’

He stuck a little hand out. Ifor reached out and pretended to shake it. ‘The firewall,’ he said, ‘it’s your work?’

‘Yes. We need to pretend that the cage is still fully active.’

‘Most impressive. And now, let us talk openly. You have come to take up our offer of employment, and you intend to use the diplomatic immunity we offer to pursue Corazon’s killers.’

[ He’s very direct, Jack!]

‘Yes,’ admitted Jack. ‘I’m sorry I hid that.’

‘An unfortunate human habit. Is there anything else we should know?’

[Play your cards close to your chest, Jack.]

‘Aud Yamata has had Pantheon-level backing for at least seven years. She killed Corazon, and probably also Harry Devlin, his wife Andrea Hui and Bjorn Penderville. Fetches of those involved were either corrupted or caged. I was sent away to fight because I was too close to exposing her and her patron. They’re still active, still dangerous and they want Fist. Gods know what they’ll do with him. I can’t let it happen. I intend to find out who’s supporting Yamata and expose both of them.’

[Oh, for gods’ sake.]

‘A very personal quest.’

‘They broke my life. I’ve lost people I love. And I don’t want to see Fist and his powers abused by those bastards. They’ve done enough damage already.’

‘Excellent points. If your little friend fell into the wrong hands it could be dangerous for us too. But I worry that emotion has clouded your judgement; that supporting you would hurt us. We are in very delicate negotiations with your Pantheon just now, Jack.’

‘Fist and I are very discreet. We were built to work in secret. And I’m sure you’d rather be confident you’re negotiating with the Pantheon’s more trustworthy elements.’

‘East has made it known that she would be grateful if we were to support you.’

‘Such gratitude would, I’m sure, translate into support for some of your key requests.’

‘Indeed. Her image management capabilities would also be very useful to us as we grow our presence on Station. You are sure of Pantheon corruption?’

‘There’s no doubt about it.’

‘Proof of that, shared appropriately, would also help us build a future we could both approve of.’

‘I hope you won’t expect me to hide anything from Station’s authorities.’

‘We might perhaps ask you to ensure that it reaches us before it reaches them.’

‘I’ve said before I won’t play favourites.’

‘And you have no love for the Pantheon. We at least proceed on the basis of rational thought and a commitment to the general good, rather than naked self-interest.’

‘I’ll think about that, Ifor.’

‘That is generous of you. Oh, and one more thing …’

‘Yes?’

‘I cannot overemphasise the importance of discretion. I’ll send you a search brief. You must be seen to stick to it. More personal investigations must be well hidden.’

‘We’ve had a lot of practice at that.’

‘Oh, we know,’ countered Ifor. ‘To our cost.’

At that, Jack felt ashamed. Fist just tittered.

There was little more to be said. Outside, the light was dimming. Ifor stopped Jack at the door.

‘The Totality is very grateful for your help.’

Ifor put his hand out to shake. His nanogel was surprisingly soft and cold to the touch. Jack’s grip bent his fingers slightly out of shape.

[Keep squeezing,] whispered Fist. [See if you can pop him!]

[ Forget your programming for once.]

Ifor pulled his collar up and his hat down, and lost himself in the bustle of the marketplace. Half an hour later, the Totality confirmed Jack’s diplomatic status. He packed his little suitcase, said an apologetic goodbye to Charlie, found the best hotel he could and booked himself in.

Within twenty minutes, InSec were banging at his door. Jack flashed his diplomatic tags and told them to fuck off. Fist cackled. Half an hour later, he was asleep. Next morning, there were messages from Lestak and Harry, and a file from Ifor. Jack skipped over Lestak’s rage to Harry’s message. ‘Fist was right. It’s her. Get over here.’ Ifor’s file included a search plan for streets in Chuigushou Vale and Violin Gardens and access codes for mind detection software.

The bellboy delivered his new clothes with his breakfast; well cut, subtly woven fashions from a small but prestigious Homelands fashion house. They fitted him perfectly. Even Fist was impressed. ‘At last,’ he commented, donning black tie, an opera cape and a top hat, ‘a little sophistication. Now let’s go hunting squishies.’

Chapter 31

As they left the hotel, a porter enquired about the length of Jack’s stay. Fist was unimpressed.

[ Unctuous fuck. I preferred Charlie.]

[ He was a funny man.]

[ He was very lonely.]

Jack was surprised that Fist had seen through Charlie’s façade. Such precise emotional details usually escaped him. [ Fancy moving in with him instead of me?] he asked.

[ Fuck right off!]

Fist picked over the Totality software as their train rattled through the Wart. [ It’s fascinating!] he chirped. [Completely open, I can just walk right into all the source code.]

[Different from Pantheon products.]

[ No licensing, no end date. Maybe there is a point to them after all.]

[So what does it do?]

[Minds are all connected all the time. Even when a bit of one’s dormant, it pings for any other units around it. The software sweeps for those signals. But they need to be pretty close for it to work.]

Jack had to change trains at Vitality Junction. InSec were waiting for him. Operatives pulled him out of the carriage. ‘Lestak wants to see you,’ one of them said, hustling Jack down the platform.

She was furious. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ she raged.

‘I’m doing something useful for people who deserve help.’

‘They’re not people, they’re an operating system with ambitions. And you’re ignoring my direct warning. I told you to step back.’

‘I’m here under a diplomatic licence, as specified in the initial Pantheon/Totality peace treaty. I’m outside your jurisdiction.’

‘So you’re a lawyer now?’

‘You can’t stop me.’

‘You have no right to be in Homelands. At best you’ll get in the way, at worst you’ll cause chaos. Lethal chaos.’

‘I’m here to look for mind fragments on behalf of the Totality. That’s it.’

‘Then you’d better make damn sure you stick within the terms of your licence. If you take just one step over the line I’ll have you in a Turing cage in an InSec cellblock faster than you can take your next breath. And if that puppet of yours comes out to play I’ll have you in a coma until it takes over, and as far beyond as I can possibly manage.’

‘Let’s be very clear, Lestak. There’s no way that you’ll catch me stepping out of line.’

Another train neared the station.

‘For gods’ sake. Get out of here.’

‘With pleasure.’

A few minutes later, Jack and Fist rattled into Violin Gardens. [ It’s residential space leased to mid-level executives,] explained Jack. [People who watch Heaven every day but are never going to get there.]

[Sounds like torture.]

[ I was one of them once. I was happy enough.]

Violin Gardens was circular. A thousand windows reflected light into the complex’s central garden space. Streams and little waterfalls danced between spiked brown metal shapes that were simplified representations of trees. They were rammed into areas of patchy grass like stubbed-out cigars.

[ How far onweave do you want to be, Jack?]

[Same as everyone else.]

Brown metal became deep-textured bark. Leaves sprang out of branches. A beautiful lawn bloomed from the scrubby grass, striped pale then darker green where an imaginary lawnmower had moved up and down. Birds flashed red and purple between the trees. Their songs mingled with the susurrus of the streams and the soft, rich sighing of a thousand violins.

[So that’s where it got the name.]

[Apparently the classical music stops teenagers from hanging out.]

[ Typical Pantheon, even the art’s there to control you.]

There were a few people wandering through the gardens. Some walked arm in arm. Others lay on the soft turf, staring up at the Spine. The gods returned their gaze. Their Homelands incarnations were higher resolution and more imaginatively animated than those that overlooked Docklands. Even Grey’s raven – still chained – was more active, hopping from leg to leg and occasionally trying to scratch itself with its beak.

[East is certainly cute,] said Fist. [ I bet you’d love another upgrade from her.]

[ I never enjoy not being able to choose.]

As Jack spoke, the goddess turned her face towards him. Golden hair billowed up and around her head, sparkling weightlessly in the sunlight.

[ Fuck, Jack, she’s looking right at you.]

[More than looking.]

The goddess winked from on high.

[Shit,] said Jack.

[ That was public,] said Fist. [Everyone will have seen it.]

And indeed everyone was pointing up, then looking around to see who East could have been communing with. A soft sound drifted around Jack, almost lost in the birdsong – the faintest suggestion of a giggle.

[So much for keeping a low profile,] groaned Fist. [ I’m going to end up comatose in an InSec cell!]

[ Nobody knows she was looking at us,] Jack reassured him. He pointed up and looked around, pretending to be as thrilled and puzzled as everyone else.

[ The news channels are just starting to pick it up.]

[Let’s move. She’s just having fun, it’s what she does. Bring up the search pattern, Fist.]

Ifor’s search app dropped a single white line over the estate. It coiled around it, mapping out the most efficient exploration path. As they followed it, Fist monitored the news.

The more celebrity obsessed channels went live to Violin Gardens, talking excitedly with those who’d witnessed East’s wink. People who had no particular relationship with the divinity expressed a guardedly general sense of gratitude. Her more devoted followers gushed about very personal moments of contact. An up-and-coming clothing designer was convinced that East had personally blessed the Chuigushou Mall launch event for her new collection. A middle-aged man described a new relationship. He was now confident that it would endure. A jogger gave thanks for East’s intercession. She was involved with a charity that was having difficulty raising money. Now, she could share its details with a massive media audience.

Jack felt very happy to have left Pantheon worship far behind. The last seven years had at least gifted him atheism. He thought with embarrassment how excited his younger self would have been by East’s visitation.

The search pattern led them on. Trees gathered in clumps around sunlit glades, filled with bright flowers and softly glowing patches of sunlight. Ground level apartment doors were represented by wooden arches. Flutes played, backed by pattering hand drums.

[ How do people live with such crap, Jack?]

[ It’s a dream they want to share.]

[ It’s an advert they want to inhabit. Let’s get rid of this bullshit.]

Glamour vanished. The unwoven apartment doors caught Fist’s eye. [ They’re a bit odd,] he commented. A few were pale bleached wood, matching the soft pastel colour of the block walls. Most were hard unpainted metal. Their uncompromising emphasis on security jarred with the soft tastefulness of the rest of Violin Gardens.

[ What are these people afraid of ?] asked Fist.

[ I don’t know.]

[ I could break us in there. Take a look round, see why these idiots are so paranoid.]

[ We’re keeping our noses clean.]

[ I’ll give them something to be scared of. Rewrite their homes, they come home, open the door – zombie horde attack!]

[ No.]

[ Boring.]

[Any word from Harry yet?]

[ That wanker. I don’t know why you haven’t told him to fuck off.]

[ We need him to scout for us. Now, be serious. Any messages?]

[ None. Want me to ping him? I can bring your weavespace up, subvert a local weave connection, bounce round a few servers. We’ll be untraceable.] Fist yawned theatrically. [And it’ll pass a couple of nanoseconds. If I’m lucky.]

It was nighttime in Jack’s weavespace. A wax-pale moon hung over the empty gardens, bringing white stone, green leaves and vivid petals to soft and gentle life, and scattering a shimmer of white across the little pool at their heart. The moon was too bright to allow stars near it, but further away scores dappled the clear night. A gentle breeze rustled through the tree tops. An owl called, its down-soft cry promising life to its young, death to its prey. Andrea’s statue glowed with soft beauty. Ifor’s image stood just by it. Even his nanogel body seemed to have something of the sylvan to it.

‘Fucking hell,’ grumbled Fist. ‘Should be afternoon. Timing’s out of whack.’

‘Let it be, Fist. I always loved it at night.’

There was a shadow up at the door of Grey’s temple. It could have just been a ghost that the moonlight made.

‘Fancy a chat with his nibs?’

‘No, Fist, I do not. Where did you hide the link to Harry?’

‘By that tree. As far away from Andrea as I could.’

Jack walked over to the tree, crossing from paving flags to turf. The ground here was so much softer. Jack left deep, dark footprints in the dewy grass. Fist sat on a stone in the middle of the pond. A fishing rod appeared in his hand, and a little pointy little hat on his head.

‘Maybe I should go into the gnome business, Jack?’

‘For gods’ sake. Now, where is he?’

‘Under the grass, where that root ends.’

‘Shit. You know, it used to seem entirely normal to summon the dead from under the ground.’

Jack found the spot, hooked his fingers under the sward and lifted up a square of turf. Harry’s stone face peered up from beneath it. An earwig scuttled across it. Jack brushed it away then touched Harry’s cheek. The statue rose smoothly out of the grass. Colour spread across it, a soft contagion of presence that quickly created a living man from stone. A few seconds, and Harry was completely real. There was a little splash as Fist fell off his rock, then swearing as he pulled himself out.

‘Hello, Jack,’ smiled Harry. He looked around. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’

‘Cheers,’ replied Jack. ‘But we’ve got business. How’s Yamata?’

‘Isolate Fist. I don’t want him to hear.’

[ Fuck’s sake Jack. Without me, he wouldn’t have even found her.]

‘There’s really no need, Harry.’

‘Do it. Then I’ll talk.’

[ Why’s he being so paranoid?] said Fist.

[ Tit for tat. I wish you two’d stop playing games with each other.]

[Don’t trust him, Jack. Remember, he’s different.]

[ I know.] Jack switched to open speech. ‘Fist – stand away. Now.’

Fist grumbled his way out of earshot. Harry waited until he’d disappeared.

‘He’s gone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. So – it’s a small office block. Company’s called TrueShield. Yamata’s in there now.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘Receptionist, office staff. Maybe twenty or thirty in total.’

‘Quite the little operation. Anything else?’

‘Substantial data flowing in and out, but it’s heavily encoded. Their defence software’s Pantheon grade. Normally I’d be able to nudge in – but not here. It’s like we thought, you need to get into their server room physically. Then we can dig all the dirt on Yamata and follow it right back to her patron.’

‘Fist’ll sort that out.’

‘Once you’re in, I’ll manifest through him. Bit of extra muscle.’

‘No.’

‘What?’

‘I told Fist I wouldn’t give you that kind of access.’

‘Shit, Jack, you were serious?’

‘I made a promise.’

‘Gods. Last time I let you two out alone, he lost it and fucked everything. You need me there. I’ll help keep him under control. And when he brings gods know what down on you, I’ll use his weapons to fight it off.’

‘Fist can fight his own battles. And they don’t want to hurt him. We’ll use that against them.’

‘These are serious people you’re fucking with, Jack. Not just squishies.’

‘Fist understands exactly what they can do to him. He didn’t back at Access station. He won’t get in the way this time. I’m sure of it.’

‘There’s a lot of corruption in this world, Jack. You can’t trust anyone, these days. And he was never a friend you chose to make.’

‘I’ve made my mind up.’

‘Fine, fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll need me once you’re in there, I guarantee it. In the meantime, there are practicalities. You need to get over to TrueShield without triggering any alarms.’

‘That won’t be a problem. We’ll be there in a couple of hours.’

‘I’ll expect you.’

Harry returned to stone and fell back into the dark earth. Jack covered his cold, grey face with turf.

‘Fist,’ he shouted, ‘we’re done.’

The moon vanished from the sky, which then disappeared too. Suddenly there was no stone path, or silvered grass, or softly hissing fountain – just the tawdry cheapness of an unwoven Violin Gardens.

‘Right, Fist. I need you to build me a datasprite, and then make a sweathead of me.’

‘After you’ve sent me off to the bottom of the garden so I don’t offend your dodgy mate? Not sure why I should bother.’

‘Just do it, Fist.’

Chapter 32

They waited until the end of the afternoon before disappearing offweave. They left a datasprite – skinned as Jack – moving through Violin Gardens, following Ifor’s search pattern. As evening wore on it would take refuge in a nearby bar, where they’d reintegrate with it at their leisure.

Fist was still grumbling as they set off for TrueShield.

[ You wasted my time back there, Jack. You could have just charmed someone, I’d have skinned him, swapped you both around, and anyone watching onweave would have thought you were him and he was you.]

[ I don’t like doing that to people.]

[Oh! But you don’t mind working me till my subroutines pop, do you? And now we’re offweave, and I’m draining myself with camouflage software that – if you please – it took me a good mega-hour of poly-processor work to pull together. And to cap it all, we’ve got to walk! If you’d charmed someone we could have just got the train over.]

[And we’d have been much more likely to get caught. We’ll soon be there, it’s only another half-hour or so.]

[And I bet you’re going to make me open a portal for him too.]

[ He asked me to. I said no.]

[ Hmmph.]

As they neared TrueShield it started to get dark. Pale white lights guided commuters away from offices and laboratories. Tastefully arranged spotlights danced shadows across them, highlighting fashionable clothing and up-to-the-minute hairstyles. There were designer sigils everywhere.

Fist dismissed them with a single word.

[ Wankers.]

They reached TrueShield’s address and looked around for Harry. He emerged from a shadowy service doorway with the suddenness of a flaring match.

[ Fetches shouldn’t be able to do that,] said Fist. [ You shouldn’t have let him come along.]

[ He’s rebuilt himself, Fist. He’s much more than just a fetch. And he’s only doing the scouting. The heavy lifting’s down to us. Now don’t be so petty.]

[ You feel so guilty about fucking his wife you’re letting him get away with murder.]

[Stop whinging.]

Harry beckoned to Jack, then disappeared back into the darkness. Jack joined him in cover. ‘Yamata’s in there?’ he asked.

‘Oh yes.’

The TrueShield building was a four-storey white box, set in a round lake. The corners of the building touched the edge of the lake, creating a crescent before each façade. Spotlights angled down into the crescents, their light bouncing off the water and then dancing up and over the white walls and black windows of the building. Most of the internal lights had been turned off. A small bridge led to reception, which blazed confidently into the night. Squinting, Jack could just see a blue-shirted security guard sat at the front desk.

‘He’ll be easy enough,’ said Fist.

‘If you don’t balls it up,’ cut in Harry. ‘Which you have done before.’

‘Says the dead man. Who got himself shot by opening a file.’

‘One of these days you’ll appreciate your betters.’

‘One of these days you’ll kiss my wooden arse.’

‘Gods’ sake, you two,’ snapped Jack. ‘Stop bickering. We’ve got a job to do.’ He turned to Harry. ‘How many left in there?’

‘Eight, including Yamata,’ Harry told him.

‘Know anything about them?’

‘Mostly medical people.’

‘Odd. But not dangerous.’

‘I went digging through some civic management databases. Found a floor plan.’ Harry touched Jack’s arm, and the building’s walls became transparent. Jack pulled away, shocked. ‘Don’t take me onweave, Harry. For gods’ sake.’

‘You’re not onweave. I’m accessing your implants directly.’

‘You shouldn’t be able to do that.’

‘I told you. InSec tech.’ Harry winked at Jack. ‘Backdoors everywhere, if you know where to find them. So stop worrying, and let me show you …’ He took Jack’s arm. Once again, the building became an x-ray of itself.

[ He’s in you. But he’s not in me. So that’s OK,] Fist told Jack.

Red dots speckled the building. Each represented a weave presence moving through the building’s virtual spaces.

[ It’s all one hundred per cent accurate,] said Fist sulkily.

[Glad to hear it.]

Harry rubbed his hands together. ‘Right. we’ve got a break-in to plan.’

Fist probed TrueShield. Its security systems were Pantheon protected, but the security guard’s weren’t. He worked for a subcontractor who’d skimped on some of the basics. So Fist was able to walk into the guard’s weave presence, spin down the link he’d established with the reception desk and drop an appointment into TrueShield’s corporate diary for a Mr Ricker, arriving in about ten minutes.

‘I hate to say it, Jack, but when he’s good, he’s not bad at all,’ said Harry grudgingly.

‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ Fist replied.

‘Worth a try. You won’t let me get in there through you, once you’re inside?’

‘No.’

‘If you get into trouble, you’ll need my help.’

‘We won’t run into anything I can’t handle.’

‘Let’s go,’ said Jack. ‘We’ve got an appointment to keep.’

As it turned out, Mr Ricker looked very much like Jack. ‘Bit late for a visit, sir,’ said the security guard as he invoked a guest tag.

‘It’s quieter in the evening. And my business is very personal.’

‘Ah.’ The guard didn’t ask any more questions, but there was a lightly conspiratorial tone in his voice. The tag appeared in his hand. ‘Here you go.’ It skipped off his chubby finger and on to Jack’s arm, running up his shoulder to sit by his ear. Its dove-white wings rustled as it went. It nestled down comfortably, until – running its own security checks – it brushed against Jack’s weave presence. There was a tiny, shrill scream and it threw itself into the air, pointing at Jack, a look of fear on its face. Its little wings were now the brightest, most unmistakable red.

The security guard looked apologetic.

‘It says that you’re not called Alois Ricker. That you’ve masked yourself.’

‘As I said – discretion.’ Jack let the word roll off his tongue. He sounded calm, but inside he was furious.

[ Fucking hell, Fist, you’re meant to have covered all of this off.]

[ It’s just a detail. You’ll charm your way out of it.]

[ I don’t like using the Eastware on innocents. It’s too unpredictable.]

‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m going to have to confirm your appointment.’

He prodded at the air in front of him.

‘I’m afraid I don’t have a record of who you’re here to see.’

[Divert him, Fist.]

[ I can fry the sprite. But the guard’s suspicious already, if he notices he’ll get really paranoid. You’ve got to charm him too. Fuck’s sake Jack, it’s easy enough, just don’t turn it up to full.]

The guard was moving from sympathetic to lightly hostile.

‘I’m sorry sir, I do need a full name.’

[ Fuck it,] said Jack. [ Fuck. OK, sort out the sprite. I want it on our side.]

He tugged lightly at his Eastware. A smile spread across his face like a neon sun rising. The guard was just running through the security code that would allow him to trigger the desk’s emergency alert systems.

‘Do you know, I can’t remember,’ Jack told him. ‘But I don’t think it really matters, does it?’

‘Sir, I’ve been very specifically briefed …’ stammered the guard. A light sweat shimmered across his forehead. Jack was glad that the desk covered his lower half.

‘Briefed? To ask for a name? You don’t trust me?’

‘Oh no, sir. Not at all. No, I wouldn’t say that,’ said the guard. There was a desperate eagerness to please in his voice.

[ That’s more like it!] said Fist. [ He’s working for us now.]

‘Well then, wouldn’t it be a good idea to let me into the office?’ said Jack.

‘Oh, yes. Yes!’

The guard was already halfway out from behind the desk. The bottom button of his shirt had come undone. A soft, rounded slab of belly peaked out from behind it, black hairs straggling across it like cracks. ‘Anything you say, sir,’ he gabbled. Jack was appalled by the effect he’d achieved. The guard chose not to see. ‘I’ll just let you in now, sir.’

[ How long do you think the effects last when you’re not around?]

[ Not long, I hope.]

[ Then turn it up! Make sure he stays onside for good.]

[ No. And no more carelessness.]

The guard made a very precise series of gestures. An internal door hummed open, revealing a short, bland corridor with another door at its end.

‘There you go, sir. Have a good evening, sir.’

Jack thanked him, then asked: [ How’s the sprite?]

[ Reprogrammed. It’ll lead us to their server room, and make sure we don’t run into anyone on the way. It thinks it’s taking us to a meeting room on the other side of the building.]

[ You’re sure?]

[Of course I’m bloody sure.]

[Good.]

The little creature buzzed into the air between them, wings moving so fast they became a shadow hanging from its back. It had tiny compound eyes set in a hard bone face that was almost human. Its sharp-edged body was dressed in brilliant rags. There was a scarf wrapped round its waist. It was red, silver and green, the TrueShield corporate colours. ‘Can I conduct you to your destination, fair gentles?’ it said, its voice a piping squeak.

[ I’ve seen this sort of thing onweave. It’s very fashionable.] Fist’s voice was full of contempt.

[As long as it takes us where we need to be,] replied Jack, [ I really don’t care.]

The sprite was hovering impatiently by the door at the end of the corridor. It beckoned to Jack. ‘Follow me, follow me – but don’t step from the path,’ it shrilled. The door opened and Jack stepped forward. ‘Wait, wait, good gentle! First I must cast my net around you.’

[ I get it,] said Fist. [ If anyone breaks in, it irritates them to death.]

The creature fluttered around them both, singing a half-whispered, half-roared little song. A net-shaped shimmer wrapped itself around Jack. Fist swore under his breath. Terms and conditions for TrueShield access flashed up, more quickly than Jack could read. He nodded acceptance. The little flying creature smiled, showing teeth that looked like a bone hacksaw blade. Spotting them, Fist nodded appreciatively.

[Maybe it could do some damage, at that.]

And so they walked into TrueShield as if they were guests. The sprite took them down a long corridor. There were ancient trees where the walls should have been. Doors opened between them, leading into small work suites. Once the sprite gestured them into an office, then closed the door behind them. Footsteps passed by. When the passage was silent again, it led them back out.

‘I have kept you safe, kind sirs!’

The corridor ended and they stepped into a large atrium, open to the darkness of the night. Then reality began to change. As they walked towards the atrium’s centre, a forest grew up around them. It was far more ancient than the one they’d encountered in Violin Fields. Mist curled around moss-shrouded trees, all snarled in on themselves like arthritic hands. It lent the darkness between the trees an almost physical quality, turning it into a thick, stodgy murk. There were standing stones, too – archaic shapes rearing grey in the gloom. Some stood alone. Others were piled up to make arches. All hinted at lost peoples, forgotten rites and hidden meanings.

[ This is purest essence of bullshit,] said Fist.

[ It’s branding. It’s meant to represent the company and the dangerous world of hidden hazards it can guide us through.]

[Gods. I want to cut my own strings. Where did you learn to talk such nonsense?]

[ I dated an advertising executive. She showed me how to read this kind of thing.]

The path the sprite was leading them down did, in fact, feel very safe indeed, when compared to the deep forest. It was paved with grey stone blocks that cut through the gloom with confident certainty. The sprite turned to look back at them. ‘If you follow the TrueShield path,’ it announced, ‘you’re always safe.’

‘How much further?’ Jack asked it.

‘A few minutes.’

[ There can’t have been a forest like this for centuries,] said Fist.

[ There’s never been anywhere like this.]

[ Really?]

[ This is just a dream. Like Violin Fields. Like the whole of Homelands.]

[ I thought you loved it here, Jack.]

[ Not any more. I’ve been away too long and I’ve seen too much. The Totality, everyone who’s with them – I never knew it before, but they’ve made the void their own. Not like us.] He gestured around him. [ We’ve built a home from dreams and called it memory. Then we try and live in those memories and call that life. But it’s just nostalgia.]

[ That’s very philosophical, Jack.]

[ What do you see when you look at it all?]

[Patterns waiting to be broken.]

[ Is that all we are to you?]

[ That’s all this is.]

They walked on in silence. Then Fist was hovering by Jack. He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and spoke. His voice was carefully neutral. [ I’ll be breaking your pattern soon. I thought I’d enjoy it.] Jack stopped walking. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. [ I’m sorry,] Fist told him.

Jack was both moved and astonished. He was silent for a moment, then said in a soft voice: [ We don’t have a choice. We’ve just got to make the best of it.]

The Sprite turned back and saw that they’d stopped. ‘Tarry not, good gentles!’ it squeaked. ‘We near our destination.’

[One more word out of that jumped-up mosquito …]

[ Fist!]

The path led through an arch in the trees.

‘Behold! The object of your quest. My task is done.’

The sprite melted away.

[Kill this virtual bollocks?] asked Fist.

[Do it.]

The forest vanished. Hard neon illumination replaced gloomy sylvan dusk, hurting Jack’s eyes. Everything was white – the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the server stacks that stood in henges all around them. Technology hummed and air conditioning whined.

[ Fuck yes,] breathed Fist. [ Beautiful, just beautiful.]

[ How long till you’re in?]

Fist pattered over to one of the server stacks. His fingertips sunk into its white plastic body. Jack felt a light tug on his consciousness as Fist drew on deep resources.

[ We’ll see. Not too long. Want to watch?]

The room shimmered around Jack. The servers became patterns of figures representing buried worlds of data. Some were static, others flickered in constant motion. Jack remembered his accountancy days. He’d spent weeks drifting through accounts, carving clear and final financial snapshots from confusing, tangled corporate structures. [ Takes me back,] he said. He stretched a hand out to touch a nearby server.

[ Whoah!] yelled Fist. [ You don’t go near them. You’ll set off alarms all over the place.]

Jack pulled his hand back, embarrassed. As an auditor, his presence had always been legitimate. Once signed into corporate databanks he’d never had to worry about triggering security.

[Drop me out, Fist. I’ll keep watch.] The white room reasserted itself.

Fist was still at the same server. [Getting stuck in, Jack!] he said, then stepped into it as if he were walking through an open door. [Digging around,] he continued. His voice sounded muffled. [ Interesting!]

[ What’s their security like?]

[ Hardly there, compared to Totality ice.]

[ You’re not missing anything?]

[ Jack, please. I know what I’m doing.]

[ You missed something important in reception.]

[And was that a problem? Besides, this is much more interesting than hacking a diary. Right, got to concentrate.]

[Don’t screw up.]

There was no reply. Jack sat down on the floor, leant back against the wall, and waited.

[Aha!] said Fist, after a while. He sounded far away. [ I’m in! Even easier than I thought it would be.] There was a pause.

[ What can you see?] asked Jack.

[ Files.] Fist’s voice echoed lightly, as if he was standing in a vast, empty space. [Lots of files.]

[Get digging.]

[ I’m firing up some of your old Greyware. The corporate analysis stuff.] Jack felt another tug in his mind. Semi-archived systems unpacked themselves and groaned into life.

[Seven years old, verrrry old school! Want me to pull down the updates?]

Jack was getting nervous. [ We don’t have time for that. Just get stuck in. Look for Pantheon traces, anything flagged Yamata …]

[A-OK.]

Fist’s voice was coming from even further away. He was deep in TrueShield’s virtual self. Jack felt a moment’s dizziness as the Greyware drew resource from his consciousness. In the distance, Fist started singing.

[ Take this seriously,] hissed Jack.

[ It helps me concentrate,] said Fist dismissively. [Digging hard. Oo, what’s that? It’s hiding from me.]

[ You’ve found something? Already?]

[ I’m not sure. I’m just coaxing it out.] A moment’s silence. [ Now I can see it! What the fuck? It can’t be.]

[Don’t get distracted.] Fist didn’t reply. [ Fist?] Little grunts reached Jack. Fist seemed to be working hard at something. Something rustled. Jack thought of the unreal leaves of Violin Gardens.

[ It goes up and up and up …]

Fist’s voice was coming from somewhere above Jack.

[ Be careful. It could be dangerous.]

[ …all the way past the moon.]

[Show me!]

The ceiling lights flickered out of existence. Jack was looking up into a dark sky. There was a pale, buttery moon and a scattering of stars. A beanstalk reached up towards them, shimmering with golden light. Fist was pulling himself up it, hand over hand.

[More branding,] Fist explained. [ You should have spared yourself.]

[ What are you climbing?] asked Jack.

[A Pantheon hardlink,] Fist replied proudly. [Straight to whoever’s behind Yamata.]

[Come down, now. Deep security!]

[ Nothing I can’t deal with,] breezed Fist. [ Besides, what better way of finding out which giant we’ve got to kill than climbing up their beanstalk?]

Something sparked into life higher up the rope and leapt down towards him. Fist waved a hand. It vanished in a shower of sparks. [ Your corporate engagement and my penetration systems mesh rather well.] More security bots leapt towards him. [ I see them, I know them, I break them. We’ll find out who’s up there in no time.]

[Come down,] yelled Jack. [ NOW!]

[ Really,] Fist shouted back, [you should have more faith.] Another explosion of sparks shivered down from above. [ I wish we’d fired up your Greyware years ago! Who’d have thought that accountancy could be so much fun?]

[Gods!] Jack reached out to pull Fist back in, but as he did so there was a surprised little squeak. Fist disappeared.

[ Where are you?]

[Still here!] The puppet’s voice sounded impossibly distant. [Only I’m not quite sure where here is. Some sort of gateway. Corporate security, cracking it now.]

[ Fuck’s sake.]

Jack tugged at Fist, but nothing happened.

[ I can’t get you back.]

[ Hmm, must have been a one-way portal.] Fist tittered. [ How silly of me to step through it just before you tried to reel me in.] Jack groped for swearwords. Before he could shout anything, he felt another pull on his mind. [Oo, some tricky stuff. Going to need more resource, Jack. Ready for a little sleep?]

[ It’s not safe.]

[ There’s no other way out. And besides, pretty much everyone’s gone home, and I’ve nudged TrueShield’s sign-in systems to make it look like we’ve left too. We’ll be fine.]

[ I’ll have to take your word for that,] grumbled Jack. Darkness flooded his mind. He quickly slipped into the familiar dream state. Faces from his past flashed in front of him – his parents, Harry, David Tiamat, Andrea. Andrea’s music danced behind them all, shaping memory into coherent narrative. Soon, even that faded as Fist drew on yet more of his mind. Jack fell into a deeper, quieter sleep.

When he woke up, he was somewhere new. Fist was shaking his shoulder. ‘Look, Jack. Just look!’ At first, the bright light dazzled him. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Machinery roared, assaulting his ears. ‘Look around you! I had to show you, I rebalanced my systems a bit to bring you in.’ Fist’s voice was bursting with excitement.

‘You opened the gate? How long did it take?’

‘A few hours. Took everything I’ve got. Still easier than Totalityware, though. But that doesn’t matter. Look!’

‘Where are we?’

‘Somewhere you’ll never, ever fucking believe.’

Chapter 33

Jack’s eyes adjusted to the light. He stood up. They were standing on a small platform, next to some oil barrels and a small pile of welding gear. The platform was set in the side wall of a great, cruciform space. It was the same shape as East’s cathedral, but a very different kind of building. Instead of stone, it was built entirely of iron. Jagged pilasters ran up vast rusting wall plates past weld-seams the size of train tracks. On the ceiling, rusting tracery had metastasized into endless, snarled-up metal knots. Rather than a mirrored lake of mercury, the floor was solid concrete, spattered across with vast dark patches where oil had soaked in. The cathedral was empty, but the sound of heavy machinery clanked and groaned through it. About three quarters of its nave was in darkness.

‘Gods,’ whispered Jack. ‘We’re inside one of the Pantheon. That’s impossible. Who is it?’

‘It’s Kingdom,’ replied Fist. ‘I’ve checked the code.’

‘Shit. You’re sure?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘And you broke into him. No wonder he wants to get his hands on you. Imagine if he could do that to the rest of the Pantheon.’ Jack sat down on one of the oil barrels. It creaked beneath him. ‘He was behind it all. Smuggling sweat to screw even more work out of his people, and fuck the consequences. Fucking bastard.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Fist triumphantly. ‘He’s that all right.’ Fire sparked up around his hands. ‘And now you need to let me kill him.’

‘No,’ replied Jack. ‘We can’t do that. We need to get out of here, right now.’

‘What? Kingdom’s spent the last seven years fucking you, and he’s about to start fucking me too. We’re right inside him, he doesn’t know we’re here and he won’t until it’s too late. We can turn him into a smoking ruin. Take no prisoners, Jackie boy! It’s the only way to be sure.’

‘Oh, you’re right about that. We have to bring him down. But we can’t do it like this. We can’t just burn him out and leave a void. That’s no victory.’

‘Why not? That’s what we do. It’s what we’ve always done. Think how we toasted all those Totality fucks. That’s kids’ stuff next to this, but the principle’s the same.’

‘We stopped doing that.’

‘You stopped. Because you didn’t believe in the Soft War. But you believe in this.’

‘And I believe in all the people who rely on Kingdom. What would happen to them if we suddenly broke him? Who would run all his infrastructure then? It would all crash – chainships, manufactories, satellites, joy platforms, asteroid bases. Everything that the Totality haven’t taken yet, from Mercury to here and then out to Mars – broken.’

‘So, who cares?’

‘Tens of thousands dead. And even if it wasn’t for that – can you imagine how the Pantheon would react, if you killed one of their own? Can you imagine how they’d punish us? And we don’t even have any evidence. How would we ever convince anyone why we’d done it?’

‘Oh bloody hell!’ Fist turned away from Jack. He balled his little hands up and beat them against the railings. ‘Bloody, bloody, bloody hell! It’s so unfair. I could have been someone, Jack. I could have been the puppet who killed a god.’

‘You still can be,’ Jack reassured him, gently but firmly. ‘Just be patient. We go back down to the TrueShield servers, we dig through them and we find proof. Then we take it to Lestak and Ifor, and we let them sort out Kingdom and Yamata for us.’

‘Boring,’ spat Fist. ‘I think I’ll just kill him anyway.’ He kicked the welding gear. A pair of goggles and a blowtorch flew towards the railings. ‘Fuck!’ he gasped, rushing to catch them but just missing. Jack leapt forward and grabbed him, stopping him from going over too. A great clatter rose up from below. It was far noisier than it should have been, noisier even than the machine sounds. Then it died away to complete silence.

‘Not good,’ said Jack. ‘Crash us out.’

‘But he’ll see us! He’ll know we’ve been in here!’

The air was dense with strange, charged expectation. A soft gust of wind touched Jack’s face, promising something far harder. ‘He knows already. He’s isolating us.’

Fist closed his eyes. ‘Dammit, you’re right. He’s draining power from local systems. Full manifestation imminent. No time to reconfigure for combat.’

The cathedral vanished, and Jack was back in the server room. [ Fist?] A few seconds, and the puppet popped into existence. [Let’s go,] Jack snapped.

The door leapt open in front of them and they were running down the corridor to the atrium. There were no trees this time. When they were halfway across it, the Sprite reappeared, man-sized, smiling out of a mouth made from cracked bones. Its nails were hard and black and wickedly sharp. Its wings were made from human spines and flayed skin.

[ YOU STEPPED OFF THE PATH,] it howled, its metal grinder voice too loud to be anything other than a simulation, [AND NOW YOU’RE LOST.]

[ FUCK, JACK, IT’S INSIDE ME!] screamed Fist.

[ What? How?] said Jack.

[ NEEDED EXTRA RESOURCE TO GET INTO KINGDOM. SHUT DOWN ALL SHIELDS. NOT BACK UP YET!]

[Shit.]

The Sprite leapt towards them. It shattered into a great burning shape, stretching itself out into shimmering patterns of light. Fist swore, Jack yelled orders. The patterns resolved, becoming a floating entity carved from brilliance. Its body was a lopsidedly incandescent sac. Tentacles hung down from it, waving lazily backwards and forwards as if stroked by invisible currents. It looked like a vast jellyfish, dreaming in a tropical ocean.

[ Hello,] said a voice that Jack knew well. [At last I get to play with you. You won’t find me as easy as Akhmatov.]

[ Yamata,] Jack said, shocked. [On our private channel! Where’s she coming from?]

She laughed and the assault began.

‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’ yelled Fist, not bothering to mask his voice. His defences had been fully compromised. The puppet’s first task was to determine how deeply he’d been penetrated. A thousand security objects leapt into being within him, deleting invader bots as fast as they could.

‘They’re trying to crash my weapon systems.’

Pain shimmered inside Jack as Fist drew on deep resources. He staggered, then shouted: ‘Careful! Don’t knock me out!’

The puppet had seconds to rebuild his defences, understand their opponent and start fighting back. Yamata’s voice boomed out, rich with confident amusement.

‘No mercy this time, Jack! You’re too much of a threat. You’ve finally realised what Fist can do, so Kingdom’s let me take the gloves off.’

The light intensified, punching agony into Jack’s mind. He collapsed to his knees.

‘Now for something a little more physical,’ said Yamata calmly.

A bullet cracked past.

‘SHIT!!!!’ howled Fist. Suddenly there was a panther by Jack. He shook at the sight of it. Then it was springing to the right of the shining virtual entity before them. Yamata half-laughed, half-screamed.

[Got privacy again,] gasped Fist. Crystal had grown around his lower legs. The puppet tottered forwards, then stopped as the two crystal masses joined and became one. He was immobilised. [ Totality attack package.] There was no emotion in his voice. Fear pricked Jack. The situation must be very serious for Fist to dump his personality subroutines.

[ I’ll take the digital structures,] Fist’s new, toneless voice said. [Get the woman with the gun. This panther won’t be there for long. Can’t boot up the others.]

The crystals were still growing. They’d insinuated themselves into his joints. Foot had separated from lower leg, lower leg from upper leg, upper leg from hip, each now a separate shape floating in crystal.

[ I need to focus. Dropping the cat. Get the woman.]

Jack forced himself to follow the panther. Its growling vanished. Light flashed behind him and white noise roared. Fist was fighting back. There was a black shape ahead, a woman lying on the floor. Jack threw himself at her, piling a knee into her stomach as he landed. She grunted and he saw her face and Corazon’s memories inside him screamed, for this was the woman that had killed her.

‘Yamata!’

A punch snapped his head sideways and then she’d flipped him over. He gasped, partially with pain, partially with shock. [ Fist!] he yelled.

[ I’m busy. Yamata’s attacking,] said Fist.

[Me too.]

[ What? Both of us?]

A status update flashed into Jack’s mind. Fist was three quarters encased in crystal, one arm trapped, one flailing. His legs were completely separated from his body. Crackling blue fire danced out of him, charring each exit point, and exploded through the crystal as his defence systems tried to break its hold.

[ Harry was right,] said Jack.

[ That cunt. We’re not finished yet.]

Pain gripped Jack’s throat. Yamata was throttling him. He thrashed at her arms, but her grip was too strong. He tried and failed to kick her. His neck shouted agony.

[ Fuck’s sake Jack, go East on her!]

Jack dropped inside himself, pushing the Eastware to full. A flood of digitally enhanced charisma flashed through him. He remembered the effect he’d had on the InSec men, wondered briefly how Yamata would respond, then smiled, a Narcissus turning his beauty on another.

Yamata reacted, but not as Jack had expected. She leant back, for a moment taking the pressure off his neck, and laughed.

Fear flashed through him as the Eastware frantically fine-tuned itself, looking for a way to affect his adversary. He failed again to punch her. She shifted her weight, moving her hands to his shoulders, pinning his arms down. Her face came right down to his.

‘I’m beyond that sort of thing now,’ she said, and slapped him. Her hand hit with the density of lead. ‘Kingdom’s afraid of you. I wondered if I needed to be too.’

Fist screamed in the background.

‘But look at you now,’ she continued. ‘A broken puppet, and a man whose makeup does his fighting for him.’

She drew right back, arching away from Jack. He turned his face away just in time, so when she drove her head down at him the attack glanced off his cheek. Fist screamed again, but this time the sound was muffled. Jack imagined the crystal choking his mouth.

[ Fist!]

[She’s attacking my higher functions. Trying to wipe me.]

‘You don’t even know what I am, do you?’ said the woman. ‘Or what I’ve been up to. Not a clue.’ She clamped her hand over his mouth and nose. ‘Meat’s too easy to beat. Your puppet too. We planned to wait till you were dead and do a deal with him. Too late for that now. Going to burn him out and hope we can salvage his weapon systems.’

Jack swore, his voice as muffled as Fist’s.

‘Fucking sweat-dealing BITCH!’

‘You think Kingdom cares about sweat?’ she said, and laughed again. She lifted her hand off his mouth and snatched a breath. ‘You really do? After all this time? Oh, Jack, bless you, you sweet, innocent thing. Your puppet can kill gods, but you still don’t understand them.’ There was a tinkling sound, as of breaking glass. Fist had freed his mouth.

[ Fuck it. I’m summoning Harry. With luck, she’ll kill him too.]

[ You don’t have to.]

[ I’m almost beaten. Weapon systems all down. Hardly any shields. He’ll be a distraction. You might get out. And he’ll be far too busy to hack me, so …]

Fist’s voice cut off suddenly. Jack imagined crystal growing back into his mouth. There was a white noise blast, then silence. An alert flashed in his mind. Fist’s last firewalls were dying.

‘Little Fist all burnt out,’ Yamata chanted, pressing a hand down hard on Jack’s face. ‘And no Grey to save Jack the wannabe giant killer. You know,’ she continued conversationally, as he choked beneath her, ‘I’m enjoying this. I was so angry that Grey protected you all those years ago, but now I’m almost grateful.’

Jack’s consciousness began to slip away. He reached out for Fist. There was nothing coherent there to touch, only a mess of emergency defence and repair systems blinking rage and confusion. He imagined a small wooden mind, about to be torn apart; refused to consider the digital carnage that such dissolution represented. Now that he too was falling into unconsciousness, a strange and gentle calm had descended on him.

His principal emotion was a distant sadness that Fist would not after all inherit his flesh, that soon nothing would remain of either them. There was deep frustration, too. Yamata had named Kingdom as her patron, but dismissed sweat as his motivation. Even now, it seemed that Jack didn’t understand the true nature of his adversary. The problem of his exile remained unresolved.

Words drifted into his mind: ‘You really were too easy …’ He prepared to let everything drift away. But then a voice he recognised pulled him back.

‘He may be easy,’ said Harry grimly. ‘But I’m not.’

There was a gasp and the pressure lifted off his mouth, then his body. He had just enough in him to turn and see that there, in the centre of the room, larger than life, stood Harry. He was maybe seven or eight foot tall. Blue fire danced round him in barbed, jagged flashes. The flames that had burnt Fist didn’t seem to touch him. His voice was a roar, thick with Docklands rage.

‘You killed me, you ungrateful bitch, and now I’ve come to break you.’

The barbs of blue fire exploded off him, and all hell broke loose.

Yamata rolled off Jack, snatching up her gun as she did so. A popping sound followed her – bullets leaping into the air. Harry ignored them. She screamed as blue exploded around her. The scream ended suddenly as her body lost all focused motion, and she was a falling clutter of limbs tumbling limp on to the floor.

‘Well, that was nice and easy,’ gloated Harry. ‘Now for the rest of you.’ He turned and advanced on the floating creature that had broken Fist. Fire lashed out again, dancing through its tentacles and setting them writhing in agony.

Jack stood up. He tried to pull Fist back into his mind, but there was nothing there. He’d have to reclaim him manually. He moved back to where he’d seen him last.

‘You wanker,’ Yamata’s voice yelled. ‘I’ll just kill you again.’

Jack was baffled that the broken woman could still be present, still be attacking. Harry just laughed. ‘When I escaped you,’ he shouted back, ‘you must have known I’d come back. And I’d be ready for you.’

Jack quickly found Fist. The puppet’s plan was working. Harry had distracted Yamata. His crystal cage had disappeared. But Fist was unconscious, flickering in and out of sight, his core self straining to absorb the beating it had taken. Both his legs had been torn off. When Jack rolled him over, he saw that an arm was missing too. His eyes were open and unseeing, staring up at the ceiling. His mouth had fallen open in a lolling grin.

The lost arm was just next to Fist. Jack scrabbled round for the legs. One was untouched. The other was singed black, but basically functional.

There was a burst of light and swearing. Jack looked up to see Harry standing in front of the jellyfish, silhouetted by gouts of brilliant light as another attack exploded against it. Its tentacles thrashed in pain.

Harry’s laugh boomed out. ‘Did you really think you could hurt me, Yamata? I’ve spent the whole of my death getting ready for this.’

There was a tugging at Jack’s sleeve. Fist had regained something approaching consciousness. He could barely move his mouth to talk.

[Shut me down. Run.]

It would take a couple of minutes to force Fist into a protective closedown, swaddling his systems deep in Jack’s mind. Jack started the delicate process. It took all his attention. He couldn’t risk movement until it was complete.

[ For gods’ sake Jack, just crash me. Factory reset me once you’re safe.]

[ No, Fist. You’ll forget everything.]

[ Two great years, five shit ones. Won’t miss ’em.]

Fist lost consciousness again. Waking so quickly had placed too much of a strain on his fragile self. Jack stayed on his knees. Blue and white flashes pulsed rhythmically behind him. The struggle had become entirely silent. There was no way of understanding who was winning. They’d both forgotten Jack and Fist.

At last the puppet was fully shut down. Jack ran for the exit, his shadow dancing shakily out in front of him like a monster from a half-remembered nightmare. The building was on lockdown. He had to smash his way through several doors with a fire extinguisher. At last he crashed into reception.

Yamata was lolling in an armchair. She had a gun in her hand and it was pointed at him.

Chapter 34

Jack stood frozen, ready to die. He was too surprised to be afraid, astonished that Yamata had moved so much more quickly than him. The gun’s nozzle waved backwards and forwards. Jack wondered if she was taunting him, then realised that she was barely conscious. He moved cautiously past her.

There was another woman lying flat on a sofa. She was also Yamata, and she was also armed. Jack stopped, amazed. Another door opened. The guard carried a third Yamata through it. She hung limply in his arms. When he saw Jack, he beamed, then looked sad.

‘I’m so sorry. These are tranquiliser guns. They’re going to try and stop you. If they can’t, they’ve got real guns too.’

The Yamata in the chair was twitching feebly, as if some higher force was trying but failing to control her. Her limbs shivered and she gasped, but she was not able to pull herself into any coherent movement. She dropped her gun.

The Yamata on the sofa seemed to have achieved greater self-control. She was slowly and carefully sitting up. Her head twitched left then right, scanning the room with insect focus. Her gun wavered towards Jack.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ she sneered. ‘Running away.’ The lips of the other two Yamatas trembled in time with her words. Her voice was a little slower than it should be. There was a loud pop and her hand shook. Jack jumped as a tranquilliser dart sang past him.

The guard laid the third Yamata down on the floor then hovered nervously, waiting for a cue from Jack. ‘I can get between you and the guns,’ he said, ‘but I think they’d just kill me.’

Jack edged across the reception area, keeping as far away from the armed Yamata as possible. ‘No,’ he told the guard. ‘Don’t involve yourself in this. It’s not your fight.’

The guard looked crushed. ‘But I’d so like to help,’ he replied.

‘Silence,’ ordered Jack. ‘Don’t move.’

The sofa Yamata was standing up, rising in a series of jerky stops and starts, as if supported by invisible wires. She tried to say ‘stop’, but the word caught in her mouth and would not finish. For a few seconds she rattled out ‘StoStoStoSto …’ – a hard, barbed-wire sound – then she slapped herself. Her head jerked round then back again, her mouth now firmly and tightly shut. The gun spat another dart. It bounced off the wall just by Jack.

When Jack reached the door, the sofa Yamata was taking her first steps. The Yamata on the armchair was leaning shakily down to reach her gun. The one on the floor was shivering gently, a prelude to functionality. The guard was in tears, but he had not moved and his weeping was silent. Jack pushed through the door and started running immediately. He was halfway to the exit gate when a bullet barked past, tearing at the concrete path a few metres away from him.

When he reached the gate, he looked back. The three Yamatas were at the door. One had toppled over and was flailing feebly at the ground. The second was awkwardly trying to help her up. The third was walking smoothly towards him, but couldn’t aim her weapon effectively.

‘We’ll hunt you all the way back to Docklands,’ she called out. ‘We’re meant to take you alive, but we’re not going to try too hard.’

A great flash of white light burst upwards behind them, but they didn’t seem to notice. The dome over the building’s central atrium had shattered. Harry’s voice roared out, taunting Yamata. It seemed that he was winning the battle. Jack wondered briefly what death had allowed him to become. Yamata had also been remade as something more than human. He turned and ran.

It was habit that pulled his eyes towards the Pantheon. Without Fist he was offweave, so he saw nothing. He thought of Grey’s broken raven, East’s radiant wink. The night sky was serene without them.

A tranquilliser dart skittered past his feet. Jack didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see how much more easily his pursuers were moving, how quickly they would catch up with him. He realised that he was crying. It was then that East called to him. Her voice was impossibly soft. He felt as if he’d stepped out of hell and into a commercial.

‘You’ve seen Grey,’ she accused coquettishly. ‘Behind my back. Perhaps I shouldn’t rescue you, after all.’

Jack couldn’t speak. Darts, then a couple of bullets, cracked past him. His breathing was ragged. Soon he’d have to stop and rest, regardless of the danger.

‘Make for the Earthside development,’ East commanded. ‘There’s a little surprise waiting for them. Oh, and …’

Something impossibly deft touched his mind.

[ What happened?] said Fist, his voice broken shards.

[East woke you. Can you get onweave and get me to Earthside?]

[ No. Shit, my vocal calibration’s fucked.]

[ What about the rest of you?]

[Ma! Ma! Where IS the rest of me?] Fist shouted, giggling hysterically. [ Where? Where? Where? Where?]

[Maybe best you sleep.]

The giggles cut out suddenly, like a recording that had been turned off. Jack had to look back. The Yamatas were gaining on him. They’d started to move more fluidly. The lead Yamata looked almost human. She raised her tranquilliser gun to fire again. Jack sprinted round another corner, pushing himself to leave them as far behind as he could.

East drifted into being beside him.

‘The puppet’s in worse shape than I thought. Maybe I should show you the way myself. Oh, and you’re so sexy when you’re panting.’

Jack didn’t trust himself to reply. Each breath was a choking catch at the air. He wished he’d spent more time keeping fit when he’d been a prisoner.

‘You’ll be able to slow down in a moment. Make sure you take the next left.’

Jack was tempted to dart out of her plans and let his pursuers kill him, freeing him from both gods and men. But then, there was the risk that Fist would fall into Kingdom’s hands. Flight remained the safest option. There were mysteries to solve, too. Harry and Yamata had both become strange new creatures, challenges to Jack’s understanding of the world. The question of Kingdom’s deep motivation remained. Lack of knowledge left Jack feeling that he was still little more than a pawn. The only way to start acting on his own terms was to uncover the truth. And at the last, there was Andrea. He needed to warn her about Harry. He so wanted to see her again.

So Jack followed East’s instructions and turned, ammunition dancing in the air around him. Then he skidded to a halt, astonished and horrified in equal measure at the joke that East had played on him. Her soft laughter chuckled through his head as he confronted a vast crowd of Yamatas. There were perhaps two or three hundred of them, all identically dressed, all limping and shuffling in an insect parody of human movement.

‘YOU FUCKING BITCH!’ he shouted.

‘Oh, bless your paranoia, Jack,’ she laughed. ‘So, so scared of my lovely little flash mob.’

As the Yamatas tottered towards him, Jack realised that they had very little in common with the lethal creatures chasing him through the night. They were dressed and made-up to look like his pursuers, and were doing a very tolerable job of imitating them. But they were all different heights and shapes, all – in fact – different people. They were all quite young, too. It was difficult to see past the makeup, but most appeared to be teenagers.

‘My little acolytes,’ said East, her voice full of pride. ‘All sneaking out to help you. I’ve been setting this up for a little while, now. Dropping images of Yamata into fashion magazines. Hinting at exciting events. Getting them all so thrilled about it all. Isn’t it wonderful?’

‘You knew that Yamata would chase me?’

‘I thought you’d run into her, sooner or later. When you found her lair, I sent out the call – and assembled my little throng.’

There was something almost maternal in East’s voice.

‘But – the Yamatas are armed. These kids are going to die.’

‘Only some of them. And they’ll die happy. They’ll be legends and their fetches will be so proud. But there’s only one of you. Keep running!’

Refusing to think about the implications of his choice – of his endorsement of East’s vicious, wasteful rescue plan – Jack started forward again. He pushed through the crowd of Yamata lookalikes, feeling his breathing and pulse slow as he did so. The mob let him through, coming back together behind him and covering his path. They were packed close together, filling the whole street. It would be near impossible for the Yamatas to break through them in their weakened state. They’d have to shoot hundreds to have any hope of catching him. Jack hoped they weren’t that ruthless. He kept moving.

A few of the Yamata flash mob costumes had been carefully prepared, but most looked hastily thrown together. Dark blue dripped down faces from poorly dyed hair, pale blue face paint sweated away in dark lines. Eyes were uncomfortably red behind cheap purple contact lenses.

It was the massed conviction of all the individual performances that made the mob impressive. As Jack pushed through it, nobody broke character; nobody smiled, or flinched, or did anything to reveal that they were just pretending. Their commitment was absolute. Jack risked a look back. The real Yamatas were stalking into view. Now the flash mob would be tested. The Yamatas stopped, as amazed as Jack had been by the sight of several hundred imitators.

The mob moved towards them and started to chant one phrase again and again. ‘Hello Yamatas, we’re Yamatas’ built from a mutter to a roar as Jack reached the end of the flash mob. It echoed back off the buildings around them. Empty office blocks became a chorus, chanting commentary at the drama. Their words weren’t strong enough to drown out the stutter of gunfire. The first flash mobbers reached the three Yamatas. Some fell immediately. Most poured on, a blue-stained wave rolling over Jack’s pursuers. Unable to add any support, he fled. After thirty seconds or so, the shooting stopped and there was only chanting. Then, suddenly, there was silence. Jack was too far away to see how many had survived as the crowd dispersed.

‘Oh, they’ll be all right,’ said East casually. ‘And now, you’ve got to hide yourself. You’ve got to go somewhere even I don’t know about! Because who knows if one of my little subsidiaries has been compromised, and people who shouldn’t be there are inside me now, watching. So now I’ve saved your life, I’m going to stop following you. Aren’t I good?’

‘How many died back there?’

‘Nobody died, Jack. Fifty-two people just became immortal.’

With that, East winked out of existence. Jack kept moving, pacing through the city at a half-run, a speed he hoped he could keep up for a little while longer. He would find refuge, and reassemble Fist. Only then would he let himself think about what East had just done to rescue him, what Yamata and Harry had become, and how he was going to stop Kingdom.

Without Fist to manage his connection, he assumed that he was comprehensively offweave. He didn’t know how visible his absence was to InSec; whether they would – as Lestak had promised – start searching for him now that he had broken the terms of his access to Homelands.

For the moment, it was difficult to care.

Chapter 35

Jack’s flight took him through an abandoned light industrial zone. Fist’s emergency repair systems whispered status reports. None showed any progress. East’s intervention had hindered his recovery. The puppet was going to be unconscious for hours, if not days. Jack hadn’t had so much privacy for seven years. To his surprise, he felt lonely.

The road led through a shattered collage of factory units. They embodied a very specific decadence. Neglect of such usable space would be an obscenity elsewhere in the Solar System. In Homelands, it went unchecked. Jack wondered what kind of luminous imagery overlaid this dead district. Station was sometimes known as ‘Dreamlands’ by those who lived beyond it. It was meant as an exaggerated slight. Here, it was a literal truth. He snorted in half-laughter as he moved through perhaps the truest symbol of his home that he’d yet come across.

With that, Jack realised where he could seek refuge. The streets around him were buried behind a layer of illusion, but people still moved through them. By contrast the void sites, forbidden to all, were kept entirely apart, providing the perfect hiding space. Without Fist he had no weave presence, so wouldn’t trigger any alarms when he moved into one. It was unlikely there’d be any physical security systems present. The weave’s pervasiveness made them largely redundant.

The landscape changed. Broken factory spaces dropped away, to be replaced by housing and educational sites. These buildings were occupied. The rain fell back to a light drizzle. Jack was surprised at the silence of the night and realised again that he was missing Fist. He spotted a void site.

Wooded lawns sloped up to a partially burnt-out apartment block, perhaps six or seven storeys high. Streetlights cast a pale orange glow on its façade. Broken windows rose up like dead eyes above a ruined entrance hall. Double doors gaped open beneath the ragged remains of a canvas canopy. A high metal fence blocked any access to the complex. Jack trotted along it until he found low hanging branches reaching out from within. It only took a moment to pull himself up, over and into the garden.

Jack thought of the terrorists the block must have harboured. It was hard to believe that all of its inhabitants could have gone over to the enemy. But then, he’d just witnessed a petty criminal who had become something approaching a Totality mind. It seemed that the distinction between human and other was no longer as hard and fast as it had once been.

He set off towards the block, finding a path glowing palely in the moonlight and following it towards the front doors he’d seen from the road. Once inside, he planned to rest up and closely monitor the initial stages of Fist’s revival. When the renewal process was fully underway, Jack would be able to sleep. His dreams would be infected with Fist’s rebirth. He wondered what details would spring into his sleeping mind, seeding images of reconstruction and growth to half-recall on waking.

Trees hung over the path, holding back the gently silvered light. Bushes clumped beneath them. Jack walked quickly until something snapped beneath his foot with a loud crack. He instinctively dropped into a crouch and moved sideways into the trees, worried about being heard but making even more noise as he went. He stopped in the shadows and reassured himself that he’d left his pursuers far behind, then looked round to see what he’d trodden on. Complex geometric shapes stretched away in straight lines along the path. He’d squashed several of them. He reached for one that was still whole. It was a hexagonal prism made of whittled sticks, tied together with rough twine.

‘Shit,’ he whispered.

There was a rustling in the leaves behind him. Jack thought of the rain, but it had stopped a while back; of the breeze, but the night was still. There was more rustling and he turned through a full circle, only to be faced with silence and a path lined with obsessively repeated structures. Looking more closely, he saw empty glass vials scattered between them. That confirmed his suspicions. He’d stumbled on a sweathead factory.

Fear bit him. Sweat was a worker’s drug, designed to make six-day weeks of fourteen-hour shifts bearable. It gave its users energy while numbing their minds, helping them focus on tediously repetitive actions for hour after hour without any breaks or lapses in concentration.

Most carefully managed their use of the drug to avoid addiction. Those that didn’t usually ended up abandoned and homeless until the drug at last devoured them. When they took a sweat hit, they’d spend hours feverishly, repetitively creating pointlessly complex objects. Until the high wore off, they’d react violently to any sort of break in their routine or assault on their creations.

Jack glanced to left and right, hoping that the sweatheads who’d created these objects were long gone. He moved along the side of the path in a low, crouching trot, carefully avoiding any of the little wooden structures. In a minute or so, he’d be able to find a room inside the block and safely barricade himself in. Darkness loomed around him, rich with its own ancient threat. He tried to convince himself that he’d soon be safe, that there was no need to panic. And then a sweathead exploded out of the bushes beside him, and rammed something sharp and hard into his side.

Jack screamed and ran. His attacker clung to him, as dry and light as the bundles of twigs on the path. Jack crushed more as he ran. Another sweathead howled in the darkness. The path left the trees and crossed a wide lawn. A mouth that was all dry gums scrabbled at his neck. Pain pulsed across his ribs as his attacker jabbed him again and again. Jack reached up and back for its head but couldn’t grip it. He threw himself sideways and rolled, and the creature cracked beneath his weight and let go.

In an instant he was up and running again. The path led round the side of the building to the front of the apartment block. Jack risked a quick glance back. Two more dark shapes howled across the lawn behind him. They were lost to sight as he rounded the corner and reached the block’s entrance. He planned to hide inside, but was baffled to see that its doors were now closed. He slammed against them. Pain shot out of his ribs. The doors wouldn’t budge. There was a broomstick pushed through the inner handles.

A moment of puzzlement – they’d definitely been standing open when he’d seen them from the road – and then the sweatheads appeared round the corner of the building. One of them pointed a three-fingered hand at him and gibbered threats. There was a rock in its other hand. The other kept running, a single eye blazing rage out of a broken face. It was holding a vicious-looking knife.

Jack reached up to the flayed canopy above him, tore a strip of canvas from it, and ran for a forlorn clump of bushes. He pushed himself inside them and knelt down. His right hand grasped a rock. The running sweathead approached, casting around uncertainly for its prey. Jack felt suddenly lightheaded. He wrapped the rock in the canvas strip. The sweathead jogged past his hiding place. Its knife shimmered in the moonlight.

Jack moved silently to his feet and stepped out of cover. He swung his weapon and the rock smashed against the sweathead’s arm. He’d hoped that he’d only make it drop the knife and perhaps wind it, but it was far gone and physically very weak. The rock snapped through its arm and carved a dark hole in its flank. It collapsed, whinnying painfully.

‘Fuck,’ said Jack, and took a step towards it. Blood poured out like dust, staining the ground. It wasn’t going to survive. Shocked, Jack forgot the third sweathead until it swung its own rock down on his shoulder. He staggered and nearly fell. It howled at him, then bent down and scrabbled around for the knife.

In pain, and wanting to hide from rather than hurt the sweathead, Jack turned and ran for the doorway. As he reached it, he leapt up and grabbed the front of the structure supporting the canopy. It gave a little under his weight, starting to pull away from the building. He swung his legs forward towards the double doors, hitting them with both feet. There was a crack and a moment of resistance before the broomstick that held them closed snapped in two. The doors slammed open and Jack flew through them feetfirst. He landed hard, sliding across the floor. He flipped himself over and looked back.

The canopy was hanging down, blocking the door. The surviving sweathead was climbing through it, the knife sharp in one hand and the rock heavy in the other. The canopy frame collapsed on to its head and shoulders, pulling it backwards. It staggered and fell. Jack stood up, wondering if the fight was over. He felt unsteady. The sweathead rose to its feet again and kept coming. The canopy had knocked part of its scalp off. Jack looked round. There was nowhere to hide and nothing he could use as a weapon. Guilt bit him, and then he realised how easily Kingdom would find him if the fight left him badly injured or even unconscious. His last opponent staggered towards him, weapons raised.

Jack ran for the stairs. The sweathead chattered something incomprehensible and followed him. There were bullet holes in the stair walls. The building must have seen some fighting. The stairs ended in a long corridor lined with numbered doors. Most were closed. A jumble of luggage bags, suitcases and briefcases lay on the floor, clothes scattered around them. There was a broken window at the end of the corridor, a fire extinguisher hanging beside it. A couple of seconds, and he was tearing it off the wall. Darkness gathered at the edges of his vision.

The sweathead appeared, moving like a nightmare made of sticks and dirty blankets. It howled words that could have been ‘stopped us completing our quota!’, then staggered down the hall towards him, kicking the luggage out of the way. Its broken eye leaked dark, poisoned blood. Yellow teeth showed through a tear in its cheek. Its shattered voice carved through the air like a siren.

Jack stood poised, ready to bring the fire extinguisher down. The sweathead closed on him, then let itself sink to the ground, before springing up to fly towards him. Its long limbs were spiderlike in the air, its knife carving in like a stinger, its rock swinging in like a claw.

Jack was barely able to bring the fire extinguisher down in time. It smashed against a ruined face. The knife took Jack in the forearm and he felt a tearing pain. The sweathead smashed against the wall and half-fell. It turned its broken face towards Jack. He swung the fire extinguisher again. It ducked away, and the extinguisher smashed against the wall. The knife whipped across Jack’s knuckles. Pain flashed, making him stagger and almost drop his weapon.

‘QUOTA!’ the sweathead screamed. Its good eye was clouded with white. Reeking spittle stung Jack’s face. He took a firmer grip on the fire extinguisher as it sprang towards him again, swinging against his attacker’s blind side. It hit his opponent’s head with a dull clang. Scrabbling for purchase, the sweathead fell to the floor. Jack smashed the fire extinguisher down hard, crushing its chest. It screamed and lashed out with the knife, slicing Jack’s lower thigh. Jack fell to his knees, bringing the extinguisher down one last time. The full weight of it hit the sweathead’s neck, snapping its head too far to one side. Its scream became a choking gurgle and died away.

A second to savour the victory, to feel for the pain of his wounds, to hope that he wasn’t too badly hurt; to realise what he’d just done. Sick disgust filled him, but only for a moment. Adrenaline ebbed and all darkened. Vision flickered for one last moment. There was a small figure, moving down the hallway towards him. ‘Fist?’ he said. But that was impossible. And then, despairing, he passed out.

Chapter 36

Jack was lying somewhere soft. He could hear running water. His face was covered, his own breath warm against it. His arms were crossed and held tight against his chest. He was swaddled in blankets. He remembered a small figure, half-glimpsed at the end of a passage. He wriggled. Pain danced between his ribs, across his face and hands. There was a soft thudding in his head. Perhaps he’d been captured by one of Kingdom’s agents. Soft voices whispered. There were two or three people talking. Jack risked movement. He carefully brought one arm up to pull the blanket away from his head. The speakers were arguing about him.

‘We’ve got to look after him.’

‘We can’t keep him.’

There was a pause.

‘Well, he’s here for now anyway.’

The first voice was clear and high-pitched, a far more natural version of Fist’s. The second had an uncertain huskiness to it. Jack opened his eyes and saw a metal wall. Someone giggled next to him, then prodded him in the small of his back and said, ‘Sleepyhead!’ It was unmistakably the voice of a very young girl. ‘He’s waking up,’ she called to the others. They must be children too – an older boy and another girl. Jack wondered at the adults that would leave them alone with a captive. He rolled over. A blanket decorated with a brightly smiling cartoon mouse slid off him. He was lying on a mattress, one of several pushed together. A small, dark-haired girl sat next to him, wearing a ragged dress and a shiny blue anorak. She held a cuddly rabbit and was tugging absent-mindedly at one of its ears.

‘Get back, Lyssa,’ said the husky voice. There was a table at the other end of the room. The older boy and the other girl were sitting at it. Both were just as shabbily dressed. The wall behind them was covered with bright, dynamic designs; paintings of different parts of Homelands. Some of the buildings had names scrawled across them – Chuigushou Mall, Glass Vision Tower, The Shard, The Acorn, Violin Square.

‘You won’t hurt us, will you?’ said Lyssa. ‘You killed the wicked men.’ She peered down at her bunny, pulling its nose to left and right as she spoke. ‘Wicked, wicked, wicked men.’ She looked up again, her gaze surprisingly confident. ‘You’re a ghost, aren’t you? Like us?’

‘None of us are ghosts,’ said the boy grumpily.

‘Then how come no one can see us? Not even the lions and tigers and bears?’

‘Quiet, Lyssa,’ cautioned the girl at the table. ‘Don’t tell him secrets.’

‘It’s not secret,’ said Lyssa, her head turned over her shoulder. ‘He knows,’ she concluded, whispering conspiratorially to her bunny.

‘Who are you all?’ asked Jack. Lyssa was now deep in conversation with her cuddly toy. The girl from the table came over and sat down, putting a protective arm around her. She looked at the boy, who nodded.

‘I’m Ato,’ she said brightly, ‘and this is Fred.’

‘Where are we?’

‘Deep underground, in Station’s skin,’ Fred replied. ‘About an hour’s walk from where Ato found you. We’re safe. All this’ – he waved at the walls – ‘insulates us from anyone outside.’

‘No sound scanners, no body heat cameras, nothing,’ said Ato.

‘That’s pretty impressive,’ said Jack. ‘You built this yourselves?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ scolded Lyssa. ‘Our mummies and daddies did. And Grandpa helped them.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘When the police came and took them, they left this room for us to be safe in. And they took us offweave and made us all invisible.’

‘How did they do that?’

‘Secrets from Grandpa,’ whispered Lyssa. ‘He knew that InSec were coming.’

‘For your parents?’

‘Yes.’

Realisation struck Jack. The terrorists must have tried to protect their children from InSec, and in doing so made phantoms of them.

‘Why did InSec come for them?’ wondered Jack.

‘They were fighting for peace,’ said Fred, firmly. ‘For a better world.’

Jack wondered how the parents’ weavehack worked. It must be very effective – if InSec had been able to perceive the children, they’d have been taken into care. He wondered whether Lestak could arrange for them to be looked after; if she’d even let him get a word in edgeways. Perhaps she might listen when he told her about Kingdom.

He sat up.

‘No, don’t!’ snapped Ato.

Pain spiked in his head. The room spun.

‘You’re still not better,’ she told him. ‘Lie down.’

He felt the soft pressure of her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down. It was a relief to sink back on to the mattress.

‘We’ll look after you. And anyway, you can’t go anywhere just now. They’re looking for you upstairs.’ There was a confident finality to her voice. She was talking as much to Fred as to Jack.

Jack felt a soft scratching in his mind. Fist was stirring. An indicator pinged. The puppet’s core consciousness would start rebooting in an hour or so. Perhaps it would be best to sleep until then. He felt that he could trust the children not to betray him. Exhaustion rolled over him like a dark wave, and he let himself fall into it.

He dreamed that he was Corazon again. Her assassin pursued him through sleep. Sometimes there was one Yamata, shooting at him through a keyhole. Sometimes many limped behind him, never quite catching him, never slowing down. At one point, he found himself in the middle of a silent, moonlit piazza. Bone-white stone surrounded him. There was no one else there, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop running.

When he awoke, he barely felt rested. The room was quiet. Lyssa was sitting by the table, playing with her bunny. Fred stood at the rear wall, sketching on it with a marker pen, roughing out a new building for the Homelands mural. Neither noticed he’d woken. There was no sign of Ato.

Jack closed his eyes and settled back into his mattress. Now that he’d looked outwards, he could reach inwards. Icons flashed in his mind – Fist’s damage repair reports. The puppet’s basic systems had successfully repaired themselves. His mind, memory and personality were ready to be reactivated. Jack had to be present to steer this final rebirth. For a moment, he hesitated. Without Fist, he had felt loneliness, but also peace. There’d been solitude for the first time in seven years. Such privacy was difficult to relinquish.

But so much had changed since they’d returned to Station. Each had become a mediator for the other, Jack helping Fist engage with the subtle workings of humanity, Fist helping Jack control the digital environment that the little puppet understood so well. Emotion poured through him. He thought back to when East had offered to neuter Fist’s higher functions. He’d framed his objection then in rational terms; now, he understood that there was far more to it than that. The puppet was no longer just a burdensome tool. He was a conscious, developing individual with whom Jack was deeply involved.

Commands pulsed in Jack’s thoughts. They confirmed that it was safe for Fist to reboot. At peace in the sanctuary of his mind, Jack watched as his child began to live again.

Chapter 37

Hours passed. Jack seemed to be asleep. In fact, he was deep in conversation with Fist.

[ Thank gods I’m back,] chirped the puppet. [ You can’t manage without me. Rescued by children!]

[Pretty capable kids. They’ve hidden from InSec all this time.]

Fist was silent for a moment. [ Well, here’s part of how they did it,] he told Jack. [ This room’s a Turing cage. Nothing digital gets in or out. And that young girl’s got some fairly heavy protection running. She’s invisible to anyone onweave.]

[ They said that the lions and tigers and bears couldn’t see them either. Must be invisible to security programs, too.]

[ Yup. But only for a while. Their protection stops at puberty. Lyssa’s weave presence will activate fully then and break her shielding.]

[And the boy?]

[Looks like his broke a few months back. But he’s never been fully onweave. Must have been hiding here all that time.]

[ He could do that?]

[As long as they keep feeding him.]

[ That’s not what I meant, Fist.]

[ I know. Poor kid.]

The note of empathy in the puppet’s voice surprised Jack. He wondered about commenting on it, but worried that that would inhibit it. [ They can’t have got this stuff from their parents,] he said neutrally. [ It’s far too sophisticated.]

[ Their folks must have been hackers as well as terrorists. Interesting. I’ll dig into the code, see what I can find out.]

[ That’s not all the digging we need to do. We need to work out what happened at TrueShield.]

[ I could have killed a god, Jack Conscience Forster decided I shouldn’t, and we had our backsides tanned. End of story.]

[And that should be impossible. None of the other puppets could have done it. They were built on military minds, Totality specialists with no sense of Pantheon structure. They’d have been completely lost in divine security code.]

[Puppet plus accountant equals god fucker,] preened Fist. [ How about that? It was a piece of piss to break, Jackie boy. Pantheon security sucks, it’s overconfidence again.]

[Oh no.] Awe rose in Jack. [Sometimes, when I was working close enough to the Pantheon, I’d hear their protection growling in the distance. I was out on the edge of a five-year business plan once, I saw the Twins’ firewall on the horizon. Unreachable. Unknowable. It burnt so brightly. I couldn’t look at it for more than a few seconds. I don’t know how to describe it.]

[ That’s not how it looked to me,] chirped Fist. [ It was just a little door. I just raised my foot and kicked it down. Bam! I always knew I was special! I only wish all those other puppets were still around, I’d love to have seen those little S.O.B.’s faces when I showed them what I could really do.]

[More than special,] said Jack. [ You’re a Pantheon gun. Could you really have killed him?]

[ I could have done whatever I wanted to. Messed around with his corporate structures. Crashed some of his businesses. Deleted his personality. Copied ours into it. Wait a second …] Fist paused for a second, then exploded with vicious excitement. [ I could have copied us over Kingdom! He’d have become us! We could have been gods! I could have been a god! Let’s go back and do it!]

Fist’s glee scared Jack. Trying to sound as calm and firm as he could, he replied: [ You haven’t thought that through, Fist. Remember, we don’t have any proof of what Kingdom’s been up to. And if you kill a god, lots of people die and the other gods would kill us. We’d last seconds at most.]

[ BUT WHAT SECONDS THEY’D BE!]

[ Remember East’s anger,] Jack told him, keeping his voice gentle. [ Imagine eleven of them turning on you.]

[ I’d fucking have the lot of them.]

[Even if you’re damaged?]

[ Fuck’s sake, Jack. Yamata barely touched me. That’s just a detail.]

[ Really?]

[ I’m fine.] There was a pause. [ Well, maybe there are some little bruises. But they don’t matter.]

[Show me.]

[ I don’t want to think about it. Come on, Jack, let’s go! I’m a Pantheon gun! I may be short of a few bullets, but I’m still ready to fire!]

There was a little less glee in his voice, a little more anxiety. Jack wondered what the true extent of the damage was. [ I need to see,] he said, quietly but firmly. [ I’m not taking you anywhere until I’ve seen.]

[ Jack …] whined Fist.

[ I mean it.]

Fist let a series of images escape into Jack’s mind. The puppet was wrapped in a tightly buttoned and belted trench coat. A little fedora hat was perched on his head.

[ There. Hardly a scratch.]

He turned to left and right, stretching his arms out. He didn’t seem to realise that the trench coat was torn under one arm. The tear revealed a charred wooden body dotted with broken remnants of clothing. Wisps of hair emerged from beneath the hat. There was a new looseness to his movements, as if his joints had been over-strained and left slightly too flexible. His face and hands were darker than they had been, stained by smoke.

[ That looks quite serious.]

[ I’m fine, Jackie boy, fine fine fine! Ha ha ha.] His laughter was forced. [ I’ve just had to reallocate some internal memory. And I’ve still got some repairs to finish. So no full visuals at the moment, I’m afraid.]

[ You’re not at full attack strength.]

[ You’re spoiling everything, Jack.]

[ I’m helping you think clearly. How hard could you hit Kingdom, right now?]

Fist said nothing.

[ Hard enough to be sure of finishing him off ?]

[ Fucking hell, Jack.]

[And what would happen if you didn’t? He’d wipe both our personalities. Then he’d rebuild your attack systems and turn them on the rest of the Pantheon. We’d be dead and he’d be able to take over or kill any of them. Is that what you want?]

For a moment, Fist’s newly battered face was inert. He looked more puppet-like than ever before. Then he leapt into animated life again.

[ I’m bored with this! Let’s talk about Yamata and Harry! We can chat about Kingdom again when I’ve finished my repairs.]

Relief shook through Jack. [Good idea,] he said. [ How could Harry fight her off like that?]

[ I’ve got a pretty good idea. I scanned him when he passed through me. I’ve got his number now. Yamata’s too. And you know what’s really strange? At a systems level, you can’t tell them apart.]

[ But she hit you with a Totality attack package.]

[She’s a post-mortal human consciousness running on a Totality platform – that jellyfish thing was her weave presence. Harry makes more of an effort to look good, but he’s really exactly the same. It’s why he could make such a big dent in her.]

[ You can’t run human minds in a Totality environment. They work in a completely different way.]

[ No one told those two! I didn’t get too deep in, but there was some pretty sophisticated crosspatching going on. Oh, and there’s no fetchware in there at all. They’ve never been near a Coffin Drive. They became what they are as soon as they kicked the bucket.]

[Shit. What about the physical Yamatas?]

[ I’d guess clones, brains scooped out and replaced with nanogel mind nodes. Yamata runs them by remote control. Her signal traces back to Heaven. Harry’s off-Station somewhere. High Earth orbit, by the look of it.]

[ We should tell Ifor.]

[ What? He’s Totality, they’re on Totality platforms. I bet he’s involved. They’re stitching us up. Fucking squishies. We should have killed them all.]

[ This isn’t them. The Yamata clones are several copies of the same body. That’s not Totality, they value variety too much. They never repeat themselves.]

[ But what about Harry? He could be sitting in a Totality server on a snowflake somewhere.]

[ How would they have got hold of him? And why? No, it’s got to be Kingdom. Who else could get two human minds running on Totality hardware?]

[And you don’t want me to touch him. I hope you know you’re his fucking bitch, Jack.]

[ We’re going to get hard, undeniable proof of Kingdom’s involvement in all this. We’ll give it to Grey and East, and the Totality, and between them they’ll bring him down. We’ll be heroes, Fist. And there’ll be no risk of Kingdom getting his hands on your firepower.]

Fist yawned.

[ You’re sleepy?]

[ Repair packages calling. I’ve got to shut down for a bit. This is a boring conversation anyway.]

Fist grumbled back into Jack’s mind. Soon, little snores sighed up. Jack felt hugely relieved that he’d managed to defuse Fist’s excitement at his newly discovered capabilities. He wondered in a tired way how he’d keep protecting him from the damage he could cause. Thoughts of protection turned his mind to Andrea. He worried that Harry might have discovered their relationship, might still take his revenge on her. The past sighed in his mind. They’d worked so hard to hide things. ‘I don’t want to tell him until it’s right,’ she used to say. ‘Until I know for sure it’s serious. He’d be so angry if he found out.’ Jack reassured himself that Harry never had done.

As he drifted into sleep, other memories of their time together brushed at him, like waves caressing a darkening shore. There was Andrea as he’d first seen her, performing in a Kanji Town night club. Harry dragged Jack there after they’d argued about music. ‘I told you she was better than anything you Homeland fucks have, didn’t I? If she hadn’t fallen out with the Twins, she’d be the biggest star on Station.’ A single spotlight carved the pale mask of her face from the darkness, the rest of her lost in soft shadow.

There was the first time they kissed; a snatched, urgent intimacy that took both of them by surprise, after hours in a near-empty cabaret bar. Two half-empty glasses flared gold between them. Ice had melted into the whisky’s pale fire when at last they remembered to finish them. ‘You can’t pretend you’re not from here,’ she told him then, for the first time.

As she got to know him, she would drag him back to the streets of his childhood and force memories back into him. ‘It’s who you are. Not some Homelander that Grey made.’ He came to believe that she emphasised her Docklands accent when she was with him, used slang that she would normally skip over. He remembered walking past a playground with her. ‘I used to love that place,’ he said. Children still tumbled laughing through it. ‘Look at them,’ she said, ‘finding joy despite the world.’

Towards the end, he found it harder and harder when she went back to Harry. By then, he was living pretty much full time in his Docklands hotel. He was on first name terms with the staff, who turned a blind eye to her frequent late night visits. She was suffering, too. As her affair with Jack had become more serious, so her sense of guilt had grown. ‘He’s not always a good man,’ she said, as they argued one night, ‘but it’s the best part of him that loves me.’ Dawn found her hard-faced. ‘I have to go,’ she said again and again, making no move towards the door. ‘I have to go.’

Three days later, the rock fell.

Mercifully, sleep took Jack before that last meeting came to life in his mind. Memory’s weave drifted off him, tapestried moments falling away. His last conscious thoughts were of sweathead code. He wondered what he’d forgotten as he remembered his relationship with Andrea; what more challenging truths lay beyond his remembrance of their time together. And then at last he slept, too damaged even to dream.

Chapter 38

Fred and Lyssa never left the room. Fred painted the walls, laboriously creating images of a world that was entirely closed to him. Lyssa played with her dolls, imagining moments that would never happen. Ato was both young enough to come and go at will, and old enough to do so usefully.

For a couple of days, Jack let himself calmly drift between sleep and waking, allowing the healing that had taken place in both his body and Fist’s internal structures to fully bed down. Fist was dormant for much of the time. Sometimes they were awake at the same time and talked silently to each other. Fist was sleepy and distracted. Jack only stopped worrying about him when he started grumbling again.

[ I wish you didn’t have so many good reasons for not killing Kingdom. Why do you always have to worry about consequences?]

[ Because they’re always there to be dealt with.] Fist swore grumpily. [ But there’s something only you can do that I need some help with.]

[Oo, what thrills could possibly await?] sulked Fist. [Sending someone a text message? Finding out where the nearest train station is?]

[ No. Hacking fetch code. I want to free Andrea.]

[ Won’t that have AWFUL REPERCUSSIONS THAT KILL US ALL?]

[ No, because you’re good enough to make sure that nobody notices.]

[Motherfucker. It’s not enough that I’ve got to think about sodding consequences before doing something TOTALLY REASONABLE like killing a fucking god. I’ve got to reprogram your girlfriend, too.]

[ Not reprogram her,] Jack replied. [ Not at all. I want to protect her from that. Remember how much you hated it when Grey rewrote just a tiny part of you, just once? She has to deal with far worse than that, all the time. All fetches do.]

[ You sound like the Totality. Get your mate Ifor to sort it out.]

[Please. If not for her, then for me.]

[ It’ll be hard work. It’d mean understanding fetch permission structures, digging into how the weave manifests them and working out exactly how the Coffin Drives store them. Hmm …] Fist was silent for a moment, lost in thought. [ Fuck. That could actually be quite interesting. Useful, even.]

[ It’d be more than useful for Andrea.]

[All right, I’ll see what I can do. But it’s not an easy job. I won’t make any promises.]

[ Thank you, Hugo.]

[Don’t call me that,] snapped Fist. [Gods, you’d think we actually liked each other!]

Jack slept again until the sound of cooking woke him. The meat that Ato had brought back, crowing triumphantly about her waste-raiding skills, turned out to be spoiled, but the vegetables were edible. Fred boiled them in water over a small electric heater, creating something approaching vegetable soup. It smelt thin and unappetising, but Jack hadn’t eaten for three days so hunger jabbed deep into his stomach.

‘Hello,’ he said, yawning and stretching. ‘Do you think I could have some soup?’

‘No,’ snapped Fred. Ato shushed him. ‘Pour him a bowl of soup,’ she told Lyssa.

Lyssa – concentrating hard – tottered over to him with a full bowl. She smiled shyly, blushing as he thanked her, then turned and ran back to the table.

‘Thank you all,’ Jack told them.

They didn’t reply. They were too busy eating. The soup itself was flavourless, the vegetables overcooked to the point of dissolution. Jack didn’t want to speculate on how old they were, where they might have been found.

When dinner was done, the children piled up their plates by the sink in the corner of the room. Fred turned to Ato. ‘I cooked, you wash up,’ he told her.

‘Let me,’ said Jack. He went to stand up, but rose too suddenly and tottered unsteady on his feet.

[Careful,] Fist warned.

The three children watched with wide eyes. Only Lyssa didn’t look nervous.

‘We know what you are, you know,’ said Fred. ‘We know that you’re carrying – one of them.’

‘One of what?’ asked Jack.

‘A puppet.’

‘How do you know?’

‘We’ve got a scanner that picks up anything strange,’ Lyssa chipped in. ‘We used it while you were asleep.’

‘You’re a puppeteer, aren’t you?’ said Fred.

Jack saw no point in lying.

‘Yes. I am.’

‘I saw a puppet once.’ Lyssa’s voice was soft as she remembered. ‘Just like yours. Her puppeteer brought her into school. She was called Lumberjack Lil. She was funny! She juggled her chainsaws.’

‘I saw one of those shows too,’ said Fred.

‘We all did,’ said Ato. ‘They said they were safe, that the puppets would hunt down the evildoers who wanted to harm us. But they didn’t want us to be scared of them, and it was really all for the children who died on the moon, so they made them look like toys.’

[Should I show myself now?] said Fist.

[ No,] said Jack. [ We’ll wait until they ask to see you. I don’t want to surprise them.]

[ Why not? It’d be fun.]

‘They’re not really just puppets,’ Fred was saying. ‘We learned all about them. They’re a whole suite of applications.’

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Jack replied.

‘I wish we’d had your puppet,’ Ato sighed. ‘It might have protected us from sweatheads.’

‘What do they do to you?’

‘Every so often, they catch us.’

‘If Ato hadn’t seen you kill two of them,’ said Fred, ‘she’d have just left you upstairs. But they wanted to kill you. She said that makes you one of us.’

‘Until we start to get grown up,’ said Lyssa, her voice almost a whisper, ‘they’re the only people who can see us.’

‘They attack you?’ asked Jack.

‘Them and InSec,’ said Ato, with a sadness too heavy for a child. ‘There used to be so many more of us.’

The washing-up seemed irrelevant now. There was a spare chair at the table. ‘Can I sit down?’ asked Jack. Ato nodded. Fred turned round and went back to his painting. The chair was too small for Jack. His knees stuck up and out at an awkward angle, and wouldn’t fit under the table. Lyssa giggled.

‘Have you ever killed any children?’ Ato said suddenly.

‘No,’ replied Jack, shocked. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘You’re like the sweatheads. You can see us.’

‘I’ve only ever attacked the Totality, because we thought they were threatening you. Children like you. And Fist – my puppet – isn’t real like sweatheads are. He’s just a projection.’

[Oi!]

‘We’ve never killed a person,’ Jack continued, ignoring him. ‘Just Totality minds.’

‘The teachers didn’t call that killing,’ said Lyssa. ‘They said that the puppets were going to go and play with the Totality. And once they’d finished, the Totality would think differently about people.’

‘They said they weren’t made to hurt anyone,’ Ato interjected. ‘But my father said that the puppets were going to kill the Totality. That we had to stop the Soft War. And then they came and killed him.’

‘They killed all our parents,’ Lyssa said sadly, ‘all across Station. And their fetches are all caged.’

Fred’s paintbrush made soft scraping noises. He was painting something box-like, but brightly coloured. It could have been a mall.

‘We want to see your puppet,’ Ato told Jack. ‘We need to know that we’re safe. We think we are, but we need to know it.’

[ Your cue, Fist. Get ready. And play nice.]

[Aw.]

‘I’ll ask him to appear,’ Jack told the children. ‘Will he scare you?’

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ announced Grey, stepping into the room from nowhere. ‘These are tough kids, you know.’ The lightest scent of cigar smoke touched the air. He had a gin and tonic in his hand.

‘If you’re using them like you used me,’ said Jack, ‘I’ll kill you myself right now.’

When they heard Jack threaten Grey, Ato and Fred leapt on him. Even Lyssa joined in. They slammed into him, making him stumble backwards and then fall. He found himself lying on the mattress, arms and legs held down.

[ Fuck,] spat Fist. [ Him again. What now?]

[Stay out of sight. Let’s see what he wants.]

Grey chuckled. ‘There’s really no need for that,’ he told the children. ‘He’s not going to hurt me. He couldn’t.’

‘Are you sure, Grandpa?’ asked Fred.

‘I’m sure.’

They let go of Jack and gradually pulled away.

‘I’m sorry, Jack. They’re very protective.’

‘Have you hurt them at all?’

‘Oh no. Not in the way you mean. Their parents built platforms for me in their minds. I’ve never needed to. And besides – I wouldn’t want to.’

Jack thought he saw a flicker of guilt shadow Grey’s face, but immediately dismissed the idea.

‘And now I want to have a grown-up conversation with you, Jack. I’m going to have to send you young ones off to sleep, I’m afraid. Jack – you’ll have to move off the mattresses.’

Jack stood up, letting all three children lay down, Lyssa giggling, Fred and Ato with an air of grumpy resignation. ‘Are you ready?’ Grey asked them. ‘Yes,’ they chorused. Grey waved his hand, and they were asleep.

‘What’s going on here?’ asked Jack. ‘How did you do that? How can you even be here? This room’s caged.’

‘It is. I’m in them, Jack. The ghost children of Station are my last redoubt.’

‘You’re in their minds?’

‘Like Fist is in yours. But Fist only has the power of one mind to draw on. When they’re together, I have all three of them. And when they’re outside – there are a couple of hundred who survive. They’re my core. Where is the little man, by the way?’

[ Well?] said Fist. [ There’s not much of him here. We’re safe.]

[Go for it.]

Fist shimmered into being, sitting on the table top, swinging his legs. His body moved in a more coherent way, but there were still scattered patches of charring.

‘Why didn’t I pick you up when I scanned them, then?’ said Fist.

‘You have been in the wars,’ said Grey. ‘I am sorry. But to answer your question – I’ve taken great care to hide myself. I’m buried very deep indeed.’

‘And are you present to them, like Fist is?’

‘Oh yes. You heard that they call me Grandpa? I look after them. I guide them. But it’s so much more difficult than I thought it would be.’

Grey suddenly seemed very old. He made a chair appear, then slowly and carefully sat down on it. There was a stiffness to him that was very far removed from the usual fluid elegance of his movements. Jack was shocked to realise that he looked haunted.

‘Advising them, helping them find food, keeping InSec attention away from them. And in return, they hide me and keep my core components safe. But I live in them, and as them too. Their lives are so difficult. They’ve lost so much.’

Jack was surprised to see Grey feel pity. ‘That’s not your fault,’ he said.

‘I’m responsible. Their parents were my people. They just wanted to end the Soft War and see the Totality get full recognition as an independent, Pantheon-equivalent corporate body. And then, all this.’

‘But you told me that the Totality were a contagion, that their power had to be limited.’

‘I was lying to you, Jack,’ sighed Grey. ‘Doing what I do. Managing the situation.’

‘Manipulating the situation. Manipulating me.’

‘You can call it that, if you want to.’

‘Like when you reprogrammed me,’ said Fist.

‘Reprogrammed?’ said Grey, suddenly thoughtful. ‘That’s a good word. Maybe that is what I was doing. If you control the information that someone gets, you control them. Sharing the right data in the right way – I suppose it is a way of reprogramming people. I am sorry.’

‘What’s your game, Grey? What’s in it for you?’

Grey smiled sadly. ‘Nothing. What I am now comes from these few children. And they’re not old enough to have become effective dissemblers. You’ll find that I’m in a more evasive mood when I am out of this small room; when I can draw on my deeper resources.’

‘But for now?’ said Jack.

‘But for now, I am as simple and open as they are.’

[ Fist?]

[ He’s telling the truth,] answered Fist. [ He’s just coming from them. There’s nothing else there. His signal’s much less complex than usual.]

[ I can trust him?]

[ Broadly, yes, Jackie boy. Take advantage! Squeeze him for all he’s got!]

‘You’ve been working with East,’ said Jack. ‘What brought you together?’

‘I had such ambitions. I thought that if I worked with her, I’d be able to influence Station away from the war and bring us closer to the Totality. The Pantheon are too controlling, Jack, I’d begun to see that. We need to be more open – like the Totality are. Of course, that conflicted with Kingdom’s interests. He had a lot to lose. And he’s lost almost all of it.’

‘What did you tell me that wasn’t a lie?’ said Jack.

‘Lie? That’s a terrible word. I told you what you needed to know to ensure that you took the path that would be best for you.’

‘Not for me, for you.’

‘And I’ve done so well out of it.’ Grey waved his hand round the cramped little room.

‘You’ve been keeping yourself safe,’ said Jack. ‘At the cost of all of these children. Of their parents.’

‘I didn’t realise how ruthless Kingdom would be. We struggled for years. At last he found a weakness and used it. Made everyone believe that my activist groups were fronts for terrorists; killed them, blocked their fetches, shut me down, froze my board. It was a shocking experience. So fast. I barely had enough time to get the Greyware running in the kids, hide them in safe rooms. When my board was shut down I shifted over into them. I’ve been running in them ever since.’

‘So who were the real terrorists?’

‘I could never find any traces of them. All the bombs, the attacks on Station; they just happened. They mystified me as much as anyone. I had so many people out there, trying to understand what was going on. Nothing. The children think of themselves as ghosts, but the people who bombed Station were the real phantoms.’

‘They helped Kingdom, though, didn’t they?’

‘Oh yes. They justified the war, kept people from thinking too much about why we might really be fighting. All those empty shrines they created. Every day, people look at pictures of dead children and remember why the Totality has to be destroyed. Making peace with it? It means forgetting the dead. And, as a culture, we’re very bad at that.’

‘People walk with them every day.’

‘They’re part of our lives. We – they – live in a space station, orbiting a dead planet they can’t bring themselves to leave, living in ways they can’t bring yourselves to change, talking to corpses they can’t bring themselves to bury. Maintaining stasis takes a lot of effort. It’s the opposite of the Totality. And it gives Kingdom and his allies an awful lot of power, even now.’

‘Yamata was working for him.’

‘I always wondered about that. You have proof ?’

‘She told me. Could she have been behind the terrorist attacks?’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me. She had the right skillset. The reskinning that poor Corazon found out about. She started as a sweat smuggler, too. She could easily have brought weapons in, explosives. Akhmatov’s distribution and enforcement networks would have been very helpful to her. Perhaps Penderville was working with them, perhaps you were about to expose them, perhaps that’s why Kingdom wanted you out of the picture.’

‘And what about Harry?’

‘I’ve never understood him.’ Grey frowned. ‘He was always so supportive of you when he was alive. His reports on you helped me convince Kingdom that you’d be a useful part of the war effort. I don’t know what’s happened to him. Maybe he did find out about you and Andrea.’

‘You knew?’ said Jack.

‘I was with you everywhere, Jack. It’s what gods do; always present where intention meets action, understanding both, influencing where we can. She felt very strongly for you, you know, but she’s a very loyal person. I nudged her to stay with you after the rock fell, but her will was stronger.’

‘Always manipulating. You disgust me, Grey.’

‘My influence was always constructive.’

‘Constructive? You sent me away to kill. And you never just influenced. That implies choice, and you never gave me that.’

‘All of you always have a choice, Jack. I thought you realised that when you walked away from the war. I wanted you to do that, I wanted you to leave the Pantheon behind. I thought I saw that knowledge in you when you refused to help me in the garden.’

Jack laughed bitterly. ‘One last question. I don’t know what Harry is any more. Do you? And is Andrea safe?’

‘I stopped watching Harry closely when you stopped working for him. He was still human then. And I don’t think you need worry about Andrea. Beyond rolling her back, there’s very little he can do to hurt her.’

That was when Fist cut in, his patience exhausted. ‘Enough with the encounter group. Jack’ll talk about Andrea all night if you let him, but we’ve got some practical challenges to deal with.’ He switched to talk silently to Jack. [Can I tell him I can kill Kingdom?]

[ No,] replied Jack. [ It’s too dangerous. We don’t want any of the Pantheon to know you’re a direct threat to them. Just give him the basics. No boasting.]

[ Fucking consequences,] said Fist grumpily before continuing out loud: ‘Here’s the deal. We’ve tracked Yamata’s signal back to Heaven, and we know she’s working for Kingdom. I think her core servers are somewhere in Kingdom’s corporate headquarters. So, it’s simple.’

‘Really?’ said Grey. ‘I’m impressed by your confidence.’

‘We break into Heaven, and then into Kingdom’s HQ. Once we’re in, we find Yamata. We know what we’re up against, so we won’t be taken by surprise. We crack her, take her memories, find out exactly what crimes she’s committed, and use them to prove Kingdom’s guilt.’

‘I can speak for East,’ Grey responded. ‘She’ll broadcast whatever you find. Everyone on Station will see it. It’ll be impossible to cover up.’

‘You’re running ahead,’ Jack told him. ‘We need to work out how we’re going to break into Heaven first, then a core Pantheon facility. One of those on their own would be difficult. Both together …’

‘I can get you into Heaven’ said Grey.

‘How? I mean – they’ve shut you down.’

‘You can walk the vacuum paths.’

‘What?’

‘This room is buried in Station’s skin. That’s why the children hide here. Only engineers ever come down this far. One of their duties is inspecting Station’s exterior. To do that, they need a door out to Station’s outer skin. Half a day’s walk, and there’s one you can get to. From there, you can go straight to Heaven.’

Fist thought for a moment. ‘We don’t have spacesuits. I don’t need to breathe, but it’s a bit of a problem for Jackie boy here!’

‘There’ll be some at the airlock,’ Grey reassured him. ‘There’s always an emergency supply.’

‘And then? The gates of Heaven don’t open for just anyone.’

‘There’s someone who can help you with that. An old friend of yours, Fist. Mr Stabs.’

Fist couldn’t restrain a gasp of joy. ‘He’ll see us?’ he cried. ‘At last?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Grey. ‘I’ll tell him you’re going to bring down Kingdom. That’ll blow his mind.’

Chapter 39

It was night in the void site garden. Spinelight glowed dully, drifting across the trees and lawns like so much dust. The abandoned apartment building stood out like a broken tooth. Behind it, the sleeping suburbs of Homelands rolled up and away into the sky. There was a deep hush over Station, strong enough to be almost palpable. Hundreds of thousands slept. Jack imagined them dreaming, and wondered briefly if their dreams were any more real than the waking world they moved through every day.

[ I wish we didn’t have to come up here again,] grumbled Fist. [ I just want to go to Heaven and bring down a god.]

[ You’re the one that wanted reinforcements,] Jack replied.

Ato had brought them up. They’d followed her through a maze of maintenance ducts and machinery rooms. Sewage engines roared as they pumped waste away from humanity. An electrical substation hummed as power leapt up and away from it, out into Homelands. When they passed the gravity generators, their weight fluctuated unpredictably. Sometimes, they found themselves bouncing through great caverns, a few steps carrying them tens of metres. Sometimes, they crawled through maintenance passages, or struggled down corridors glyphed with emergency instructions, their own amplified weight a nearly impossible burden to bear. Grey had always been there, ahead of them; a beacon in the distance, showing them the way.

‘It’s always strange for me to leave this room,’ he’d said before they started out. ‘I’m different out there. I don’t let them see it, but I’m not just Grandpa any more. I’m not that simple.’

‘Can we still trust you?’ asked Jack.

‘I’ll always deliver what I’ve promised,’ Grey replied carefully. ‘I might just be a little more self-interested about it.’

[ That’s great! We’ve made a deal with the devil,] groaned Fist.

At last they reached the garden. ‘I’ll be back in a couple of hours,’ Ato said cheerfully. ‘Grandpa’s going to help me find some food.’

She wriggled through a small gap in the void site’s fence and started up the street. A taller figure shimmered into being next to her – Grey, holding her hand. They disappeared into the darkness together, leaving Jack and Fist alone.

[ Right,] said Fist, [ I’m going to trigger the void site’s security systems, but I don’t want anybody to know I’ve done it. Give me a minute or so.]

Jack moved into a clump of trees and sat down, leaving Fist to his work. Untouched for many years, the grass was unexpectedly lush. It had collected a soft, cold dew that quickly penetrated his trousers, chilling his skin. The sensory detail delighted him. For a long time, he’d only felt nature in weavespace, where anything that could be understood as discomfort had been elided. It was such a pleasure to feel again the awkward, determined presence of an ecosystem that persisted regardless of humanity, unenthralled by its limiting sense of the comfortable.

Fist reappeared next to him, glowing softly in the darkness. [ It’s done,] he reported. [ I’m bringing the block’s security systems back up to full function. First time they’ve run properly in years.]

All of a sudden, the grove thrilled with virtual life. Sounds emerged – the soft, lonely cry of an owl, the high-pitched screams of hunting bats. Jack imagined the glade in daytime, rich with nature’s soundtrack.

There was a rustling on the other side of the glade, and a dark shape emerged into the light. It was a fox. The pale light softened its hard hunter’s face, making it something gentle in the night. It paused for a moment to look round, then trotted purposefully across the clearing. Halfway across, it stopped, raising its nose to sniff the air.

‘Talk out loud, we want it to hear us,’ ordered Fist. ‘It’s only a scout, we want it to summon the block’s heavy security systems.’

‘What a beautiful night to be out and about!’

The fox’s ears twitched. Its head snapped round towards them.

‘Come to Daddy!’ called Fist. His words broke the fox’s concentration. It leapt for the bushes. Leaves shook behind it. ‘A couple of seconds, and we’ll have some company.’

‘I hope you’re ready.’

‘Piece of piss.’

New presences arrived soundlessly, coalescing from the darkness that the tall trees and the bushes made.

The first was a lion. It walked with a heavy grace, head swaying left and right, shoulders rolling behind its mane. Its tightly closed mouth was a black scar on its shadowed face. Intent eyes focused on Jack and Fist with a hunter’s passion. It halted in the centre of the glade and yawned. Teeth caught the light, streaks of white fire gashing the darkness.

The second was a tiger. Its casual, confident, loose limbed stroll promised lethality. Iron-hard muscles fluttered beneath skin. Light and shadow danced across its pelt, combining with its stripes to form jagged, shifting patterns. It stretched itself out by the lion. Claws broke out of its paws, then retracted.

Finally, there was the bear; a great, lumbering mass, snuffling loudly in the quiet night. Its muzzle was paler than its dark fur, an off-white smudge that lent definition to an otherwise featureless silhouette. Something very ancient woke in Jack – a deep fear of the great shape that loomed before him, older than darkness. It joined the other two.

The silhouettes of all three exuded menace. They were in full offensive mode. Jack wondered how they might have looked when they’d been manifesting in friendlier ways. He’d often visited friends who lived in similar blocks; watched the defence creatures play with the children in their gardens. Bears were giant, cuddly creatures, lions very proud but more than a little lazy, tigers whip-smart jokers. Each of these animals would no doubt have a cartoon self too, gathering virtual dust in silent digital vaults, ready to look harmless for children it would never again guard.

[Good,] said Fist. [ They’re not attacking. The confusion protocols are working. And now …]

Feral breath hissed to Jack’s left and right. Fist had summoned his panthers. They rose out of the darkness, spinning up from memory into sleek, silent shapes. Fear spat adrenaline into Jack’s blood.

[ I’ve refined them a bit,] Fist commented, not noticing. He’d stripped the four big cats back to near abstraction. They were little more than brushstrokes in the air, prowling shapes spun out of fluid lines that were darker than the night. A shimmer, and there was a leg; an eye was a flash of red, a tooth was a white gash. Tails swished. There was a snarl and a hiss, and they moved into the glade.

Jack flinched. [ They still spook me,] he admitted.

[ I might be able to do something about that, once I’ve absorbed this lot,] replied Fist.

[ I’d like that.]

The three guardian animals stayed still as the puppet’s ghost creatures prowled around them. The trio had lost animation, now seeming more like still images.

[ I’m cracking them,] crowed Fist.

[ You’ve got about a minute left.]

[ We’ll be fine!]

A panther leapt at the bear and vanished into it. The bear shape shimmered and disappeared. Then Fist took the tiger and the lion. One last cat remained, prowling watchfully around the glade.

[ They’re ours now?]

[Oh yes. They work for me.]

[ No extra strain on your processors?]

[ No – they’re still running on the block servers. I’ve just rebuilt their command structures so they listen to me too. A bit more tweaking and they’ll be able to manifest anywhere. We can summon them whenever we need them.]

[ No chance we’ll be spotted?]

[ Nope. I’ve put datablocks up to mask anything unusual. And …] Fist was silent for a moment. In the distance, a virtual dog howled at an imagined moon. [Got it. Lots of choice in the block’s visual templates. When I’ve got a moment, I can change how the panthers look. No more big cats to scare you!]

[ Thank you,] said Jack. [And there’s one more thing we need to do before Ato gets back. We have to talk to Harry.]

[ That psychopath? You’re crazy.]

[ We need to understand more about him. It could help us break Yamata.]

[ But they’re the same as each other. What if he’s on her side?]

[ You saw how they went at each other. There’s not much chance of that.]

[ Hmmph.]

[Can you summon him?]

[Suppose so.]

[ Then do it.]

Fist grumbled as he complied.

‘You call – and here I am!’ smiled Harry, strolling casually out of the darkness. He was wearing a suit and a long, dark overcoat. Fist snapped into full defensive mode. The panthers reappeared, ringing Harry. A harsh, low growl rolled across the clearing. ‘Lovely pets,’ he said, stretching a hand out to one of them. It snapped at him. Harry took a step back, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it tightly round a bloody finger. ‘Sharp teeth, eh?’

[ He’s contained,] Fist told Jack. [ It’s safe to talk.]

‘Hello Jack,’ said Harry. ‘Good to see you.’

[Scanning him too?]

[ Yes, Jack. Now I know what I’m looking for – human mind, Totality architecture, identical to Yamata.]

‘Of course I’m happy to be scanned, Jack. After all, we’re old friends, aren’t we? Nothing to hide.’

‘You’ve hidden quite a lot, Harry. It’s about time you were straight with us.’

‘I’ve always been as straight with you as you have with me.’ That seemed barbed, but Harry’s expression was entirely innocent. Jack let it pass. ‘Besides,’ continued Harry, ‘we both want the same thing – Kingdom’s head on a plate, and Yamata’s with it.’

‘Bullshit, Harry. We know what you are now. It’s very different from what you pretend to be.’

Harry was suddenly holding a cigar and a box of matches. Each panther took a pace towards him. ‘No need to worry,’ he said reassuringly. ‘This really is just a smoke. Or rather, the memory of one.’ A little flame from a match suckled at the cigar’s tip, chasing shadows from his face.

‘But you’re not the memory of Harry, are you?’ replied Jack. ‘You were never a fetch. You’re something very different.’

[ I can take him, Jack. Let me try!]

[ Hush, Fist. Not now. Not if we don’t have to.]

‘That’s right, I’m not a memory. I am Harry. Always have been, always will be. I really shouldn’t be here, you know. But I’m a very lucky man.’

‘What happened to you?’ said Jack.

‘Can you get rid of this lot?’ Harry indicated the panthers. ‘So much easier to talk when you’re not surrounded.’

‘The muscle stays,’ Fist spat.

Harry took a long, slow draw on his cigar. The end of it flared orange-pink. The rich smell of smoke filled the glade.

[ Very impressive simulation,] commented Fist. [Serious processor power behind it.]

[ We’re definitely safe?]

[Completely.]

‘All right if I sit?’ wondered Harry. Jack looked to Fist, who nodded. ‘Taking orders from a puppet?’ he asked, with a look Jack chose to ignore. A chair appeared and he sat down, carefully pulling his overcoat out from beneath him.

[ Now he’s just showing off,] said Fist.

‘So, what do you want to know?’ asked Harry.

‘The truth,’ Jack replied.

Harry sighed. ‘All right, Jack. I’m not a fetch. Yamata came for me when I reopened the Penderville case. By then she wasn’t human any more. She burned my mind into a Totality hive, then tossed my body away and let everyone think I’d been shot by some Docklands lowlife.’

‘Why did she bother doing that?’

‘I was straight with you about the Penderville case. She wanted to stop me finding out why she’d killed him. And that gave her an opportunity to seize all the knowledge I had.’ Harry tapped his forehead. ‘In here. And directly integrate it with her own systems. Of course, to do that she had to turn me into something just like her.’

‘That would take a lot of hardware. Where did she hide it all?’

‘I was sitting around somewhere in Homelands. Yamata dug through my mind, pulled out everything I knew about InSec. That meant she was ahead of them every step of the way. They couldn’t touch her. And she used everything I knew on Docklands crime syndicates, too. All my old contacts work for her now.’

‘What was she doing?’

‘She was behind the terrorist attacks on Station. I should have realised she’d be working for Kingdom. He could blame them on the Totality, and use them to take down Grey and anyone else who was anti-war. Helped him keep the Soft War going too. Classic gambler, keeps on losing, always takes another punt and hopes he’ll win it all back.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Harry. Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

‘My investigation, Jack, like I always told you. You knew what you needed to know to get the job done. And I’ve never trusted that puppet of yours.’

‘YOU? Worried about trusting ME? Fucking hell, Devlin,’ snarled Fist.

‘So they were false flag attacks,’ Jack said. ‘But you helped them happen. Why didn’t you fight back? Refuse to work with Yamata?’

‘She never woke me up enough. It was like living in a dream. She’d use a bit of me here, a bit of me there. But I began to realise that the dream was real. After the Panther Czar fiasco you were sent out-system, but I was only moved across departments. I always worried that someone would make my lack of involvement more permanent. So, I put some countermeasures in place in case someone killed me or tried to screw with me once I was dead. They woke up – and they started to wake me up, too.’

‘What then?’

‘Well, most of me was usually shut away from her. I didn’t know exactly how powerful she was. I certainly wasn’t in a position to take her on directly.’

‘You did a pretty good job the other day,’ Fist said.

‘I was ready for her. And I’ve been rebuilding myself. It’s been quite a few years since I escaped. Besides, back then, I had other problems. I needed to get the Totality hardware she was storing me on away from her.’

‘You could have just jumped into the Coffin Drives.’

‘No way. Once you’re on them, you’re trapped. Besides, I quite like running on Totality hardware. You should feel it, your mind just sings. So I had to move myself physically. Easily done, she didn’t know how awake I really was. A little bit of looking around, some alterations to a transport docket, smoke and mirrors around the document trail, and Bob’s your uncle! I was out of my little Homelands warehouse and free.’

‘And you’ve done nothing to try and stop her.’

‘Too risky. Haven’t found anyone I could trust. And besides, even if I did manage to go public, who’d believe me? A ghost, accusing the Pantheon of staging a war for their own ends. At best, I’d get found and wiped. At worst, I’d go straight back to being Yamata’s bitch.’

‘So where are you now?’

‘Oh, that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Somewhere safe from her – and from your contacts, too. The Pantheon doesn’t like competition much, you know.’

[Off-Station,] commented Fist. [Lag time says he’s still in Earth orbit, bouncing his signal off comms satellites.]

‘You make getting away sound very easy,’ said Jack.

‘Yamata was overconfident. That made her easy to fool. She’s not any more. That’s why you need my help.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

‘I know how she works. I am what she is. I can help you crack her defences. I threw her out of TrueShield, and I chased her back to the heart of Kingdom. I can get your puppet deep inside her.’

‘We can already do that, Harry.’

‘Fist’s good, but he’s sloppy.’

‘Fuck you too,’ Fist snapped back.

‘That’s a sore point, isn’t it? If I hadn’t been at TrueShield, she’d have fried both of you. You need me, Jack. You and your little helper both.’

‘They caught us off guard. They won’t do that again.’

Harry chuckled. ‘Well, I admire your confidence at any rate.’

Fist became a shimmer in the air, floating before Harry, his still lightly charred face enraged. His voice was quiet and deliberately paced, control lending it menace.

‘You led us right into her house, and you didn’t tell us what we’d find there, or who she was working for.’

‘I didn’t know she’d be there in such force. And I only found out it was Kingdom when you did. She always kept her patron so well hidden.’

‘Listen to me,’ Fist told him. ‘I’ve been cracking systems like you – and her – since the day I was born. I was built to assess them, break into them and then destroy them. There’s nothing you can’t tell me about what they are, and how they work, and how to kill them. I’m going to find the deepest part of her mind, and then I’m going to blow it. And if I get the chance, I’m going to do the same thing to you.’

Harry laughed again. ‘Little puppet,’ he said. ‘She’s been rebuilding herself for almost as long. She’s never been Totality, and she’s certainly not human any more. And even if you do get past her, well, there’s our friend up there’ – he waved up towards Heaven – ‘her own puppet master. Are you ready for a fight with Kingdom, puppet? Are you punching at that weight yet, little Fist?’

[Don’t boast,] warned Jack. [ We can’t let anyone know what you can really do.]

Fist said nothing, shaking visibly with the effort of restraining himself. Harry chuckled. Jack felt Fist’s rage burn. Then – at a deeper level – attack systems rose into life, casting long, savage shadows into his conscious mind. But they didn’t launch as smoothly as they’d once done. As they booted up, there was a faint, broken grinding and the sharp reek of burnt plastic.

[Don’t, Fist. He’s not worth it.]

[ I’ll crack him like a fucking nut.]

[ We’ve got more important battles to fight.]

‘I’m sure your master is warning you not to attack me. It’s very sensible advice. I’m an old dog, but I could still surprise you both. And as for you’ – Harry pointed at Jack – ‘you should know better than to be so confident. It’s a rookie mistake, and you haven’t been a rookie for a long time.’

‘I don’t trust you any more, Harry.’

‘Very wise. But for now remember this – you will need my help. And if you want to summon me, call my name, and you’ll be able to sit back and watch me kill Aud Yamata for you. And I might even have a crack at Kingdom, too. Call it a hostile takeover if you like, I could run things far better than that cunt.’

‘You’re not coming through me again,’ snarled Fist.

Harry laughed, and was gone.

Ato returned an hour or so later. Jack and Fist were sat together in the middle of the glade, watching the night. Black lines carved the air around them, sometimes making abstract shapes, sometimes rolling together to hint at prowling lions and tigers and bears. ‘Oh,’ said Fist, noticing Ato. ‘It’s you. We’re ready for our spacewalk.’

‘And Grandpa’s got good news,’ replied Ato. ‘Mr Stabs is expecting you.’ Fist jigged around with glee. Jack stood up. ‘We’ll get you some food,’ Ato continued, ‘then I’ll take you to the door to Homeland’s outer skin and you’ll fly straight to Heaven.’

Chapter 40

Jack walked in his vacuum suit, the sound of his own breathing loud in his ears. Homelands’ metal skin curved away and down to his left and right. Ahead, a great pillar broke out of it and soared up to Heaven. Beyond it there was a hundred million miles of nothing, then the silent, roaring sun. Its shadow protected him from the sun’s blaze. Fist floated next to him. He sported a vacuum suit too – an affectation, as of course he had no need of one. A little black bow-tie sat jauntily just below its visor. It was simpler to model than his normal clothing, so it was fresh and uncharred.

Fist broke the near-silence. [Do you know,] he said, sounding a little surprised, [ I actually enjoyed sorting out the kids.]

Remembering what he’d done to Akhmatov, Jack had asked if the children wanted to be made permanently invisible. They’d all been very excited. Even Fred lifted himself out of his sulk. ‘Do you understand what he’s saying?’ Ato enthused. ‘We’ll be children forever. You can go out again, Fred!’ Fist touched them one by one, dropping his sweathead code into their already customised weaveware. He’d built an on/off switch into it, just for them. Fred tried hard to conceal his excitement. Jack imagined him running through the streets and malls of Homelands, joyously untouchable.

[And now I can’t wait to see Stabs again. Let’s go!]

[ We need to talk to a couple of people first.]

[ Hmph,] grumbled Fist, then: [Going into your weavespace through an external antenna, we’re pretty much untraceable. We could be anywhere in Earth orbit. Right, you’re go.]

They were standing in a moonlit garden, by a statue of Ifor. ‘Get me Lestak,’ Jack commanded.

‘Creating a contact,’ Fist replied. An uncarved stone block appeared next to Ifor’s statue. ‘Searching for her address,’ he continued, then after a moment: ‘Meshing. She’s accepting you.’

Lestak’s avatar emerged from the stone like meaning from a dead language. Jack reached out and took her hard hand. It softened into flesh. She snatched it away and slapped his face. The pain was no less real for being simulated.

‘You’ve caused me far too much trouble, Forster.’

‘I don’t have much time.’

‘None at all – I’m tracing you.’

‘No. Not where I am.’

Lestak was quiet for a moment. Jack imagined her listening to a technician, hastily ordered to find him as she reached to accept his call.

‘Oh, for gods’ sake, Jack.’

‘I’ve seen what lies beneath your world, and now I’ve stepped outside it.’

‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’

‘I’ve met the children of the terrorists.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Jack laughed. ‘Maybe you don’t, at that.’ He turned to Fist. ‘Encrypt us. And share the code with Lestak.’

‘On it.’ Fist trotted over to stand next to Jack. ‘Is Issie there?’ he asked. ‘I need to run this through her.’

She shimmered into being. A white silk scarf hid her skull head. Wisps of hair escaped its top. ‘Hello, Fist!’ she said. ‘Oo! You’re somewhere really interesting. I wish I could travel like you do. Are we going to play again?’

Fist rattled off a string of numbers and letters.

‘Oh’ she said, sounding disappointed. ‘No, we’re not.’

Lestak’s image shimmered briefly, and then returned to apparent wholeness.

‘No one else can hear us now,’ Jack told her.

‘What are you hoping to achieve?’

‘It’s Kingdom. He’s been running Yamata. She was behind the terrorist attacks on Station. He had me sent to war because I was getting too close to uncovering her. And Yamata – she’s something new now. A human mind, running on a Totality platform.’

‘That’s impossible. No one can …’

‘Kingdom’s done it. That’s what Harry Devlin is, too.’

‘Harry’s dead and his fetch is broken.’

‘He’s still around. Yamata used his knowledge to stay one step ahead of InSec, until he escaped.’

‘You have proof of all this?’

‘No. But I’ll find it. I’m going after Yamata. Harry chased her back to Heaven. That’s where her servers are.’

‘You’ll never get in there.’

‘I already have a way. I trust you, Lestak. I don’t think you’re a part of all this. You can’t go after them yourself, they’d probably just kill you. Just watch Kingdom, watch him close. I’m going to give you a chance to break him and I want you to take it.’

‘You’re mad, Jack. Nobody can topple the gods.’

Jack thought of dead snowflakes.

‘I’ve killed angels by the score. It’s not a big step up.’

[ We’re getting some Pantheon interest,] Fist warned. [ It’s Kingdom.]

‘I’m going now,’ said Jack. ‘Goodbye, Lestak. Don’t let me down.’ She was about to say something, and then she was a statue again. ‘How close did he get to us, Fist?’

‘He knew we were there. Wouldn’t have known who we were, what we were saying.’

‘Good. Now for Ifor.’

The mind shimmered into being before them. ‘Jack,’ he began. ‘Well. You have been causing me all sorts of trouble. We talked of discretion? That flash mob has posted your image all over the weave. It has become a fashion to imitate your dress, and now every single one of your groupies pretends to adore the Totality. We cannot move for Forster fans mobbing us.’

‘I’m sorry, Ifor. I didn’t know that East would play it that way.’

‘It is difficult for us. Our negotiations with your Pantheon have reached a delicate stage.’

‘Kingdom blocking you?’

‘No, he’s been surprisingly conciliatory.’

‘That’s his public stance.’ Jack quickly explained the situation. ‘I’m going to move against Yamata and then Kingdom. You’re in negotiation so you can’t be seen to do it. Lestak’s hamstrung.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘Close to them both. That’s all you need to know. I’m going to get proof of their crimes and share it with the world.’

‘If you are captured or exposed without that proof, we will deny all knowledge of you.’

‘Wanker,’ said Fist.

Ifor chuckled. ‘Realpolitik, my friend. But perhaps that is too sweeping. If I can help you out of trouble, I will. Call for me, little puppet, and I will do my best to come.’

‘You’re still a wanker.’

Jack patted Fist’s helmet. ‘Always the charmer,’ he said. ‘But we’ve got to be going. Spread the word, Ifor: it’s Kingdom. He’s been running Yamata, and we think she’s behind the terrorist attacks.’

‘Spread the word? Now that I know, we all know.’

‘And I’ve got a favour to ask. Something personal.’

‘What do you want us to do?’

‘What we’re about to do – well, it’s risky. If we don’t make it back, could you go to my parents, and tell them about the last few days – about everything we’ve found out?’

‘I will, Jack.’

‘My father doesn’t like the Totality.’

‘We’ll find a way of reaching him. And we’ll talk to your mother.’

‘You’ll need his permission for that.’

‘Perhaps.’

When Ifor had gone, Fist turned to Jack. ‘Now for Heaven and Mr Stabs!’

‘There’s one more thing. Remember we talked about Andrea?’

‘Ah, yes. I could have done with a bit more time. But this should do the trick.’

Fist put his hand out and a little feather appeared. It glowed with shifting colours and patterns. Jack took it from him. Its barbs brushed against themselves, glitching out soft musical notes.

‘Why a feather?’ asked Jack.

‘To unclip her wings. Once she’s installed it, nobody will be able to roll her back, or send her back to the Coffin Drives if she doesn’t want to go. She’ll be free, just like you wanted.’

‘Very poetic.’

There was paper in Jack’s hand. He remembered the notes he’d exchanged with Andrea, such a short time ago. So much had changed since then.

‘I understand everything now,’ he wrote, ‘and I’m going to try and find a resolution. I’m so glad I found you again. I hope the feather helps you fly. Oh, and Harry lied to us both about what he is.’ Jack summarised what Harry had told them in the garden, then simply ended with: ‘I love you.’ An envelope appeared. He addressed it, tucked the feather into it and carefully sealed it.

‘Consequences, Jack,’ warned Fist. ‘If the Pantheon ever trace that back to us we’re in big trouble. Almost as bad as killing one of them. It rewrites some pretty basic fetch code.’

‘Will they?’

‘I’ve been very careful. It’s locked to Andrea only. If it’s just running on her, it’ll be pretty much invisible. And I’ve dropped in some camouflage for her. She’ll be able to make it look like she’s been rolled back or sent down. If she’s careful, nobody will ever find her out.’

‘Good,’ said Jack. ‘Send.’ A flash of light and it was done. ‘Now we’re ready to go.’

Fist let the garden fall away. Once again they stood outside Homelands, shaded by a pillar of Heaven. ‘Well,’ he said, looking up at it, ‘time for an ascension. All security’s in place, and you’re going to love what I’ve done with our beasts. No more panthers.’

He clapped his gloved hands together. Ghosts of animals flitted into being, barely visible against the dark. Jack looked for different shapes, different sizes; for lions and tigers and bears. But they were all the same kind of creature.

There were sharp heads like wedges, dark pointed ears pricking up, lean and muscular bodies made to run and catch and bring down prey. Their skin was pitch-black. Eyes and mouths flamed in the darkness. Burning spit dropped away from tongues of fire. Flames danced around them, a basic fact of their being, scudding across their bodies, dancing down legs, burning out in footprint trails behind them. They milled around sniffing at each other, welcoming themselves into existence.

‘Dogs,’ breathed Jack.

‘Not just dogs – hounds. Man’s best friend,’ replied Fist proudly. ‘Nothing to be scared of. Unless it’s you they’re hunting. They’re a pack, they’ll take commands.’

Jack snapped: ‘To me!’ The pack’s response was immediate. Seven heads snapped towards him. Seven pairs of burning eyes met his, all attention, all engagement. They jostled closer, flame tongues lolling in open mouths. A wave of heat rolled across him.

‘I’ve been burned,’ said Fist, ‘and so they burn. My weakness is my strength!’

‘Back away,’ ordered Jack. ‘Walk around us.’

The dogs pulled back and resumed their prowling. Their footfalls sparked fire, creating a soft circle of flame.

‘Now I know what we’re up against, I’ve tweaked their defences,’ Fist explained. ‘Totalityware won’t touch them.’

‘Excellent,’ smiled Jack. ‘Let’s go.’

He leapt up and squeezed a little propellant out. All of a sudden he was flying in space, his shadow hounds leaping with him through the darkness.

For a long time afterwards he would remember that moment as one of perfection; blazing through night, certain in purpose, ready to unleash his vengeance on Heaven. He wondered if he should have Fist twine him in fire too, a rebel returned to break the rule of his makers. Perhaps he should fly on great burning wings.

He let a little more air squirt out, correcting a drift out of the pillar’s shadow. He thought of the sun. It at once nourished humanity and was completely unaware of it. Here was a god he could worship, he realised, one that gave unstintingly without demanding anything in return. He wondered what it would mean to enter a state of such disinterested grace, to bless without possibility of control or reward. In his mind, the sun roared.

That imagined sound made him realise that his pack was silent. [Let me hear you,] he thought. Pants and growls burst across him. One dog howled and one by one the others joined it. Each shifted in and out of phase with the others, harsh dissonances and subtle harmonies rising and filling in the night. As the hounds roared for their master, fire fell backwards from their gaping mouths, fading into the night. Burning feet found firm purchase in nothing. They were closing in on Heaven. Soon they would storm its gates.

[ Where did Grey say Mr Stabs would meet us?]

[ He was very precise. It’s an access door just where the pillar hits Heaven.]

[Perfect. Will anyone spot the pack?]

[ They’re ghosts until they’re on you – if you can see them, you’re already fucked.]

Heaven raced towards them. Jack touched the void with his steerjets, spinning round and slowing. When he touched down he landed gently but firmly, magnetic soles clamping him to the ground. One by one, the dogs landed around him. Looking back, he saw that the trail of fire they had burned into the night was falling away to nothing.

[ You are an artist sometimes, Fist.]

[Everything I am comes from you.]

For a moment Jack mistrusted the compliment, but he could find no ambiguity or hostile intent in it. Fist hovered in front of him, slowly rotating to bring himself right way up. The pack sniffed around them, exploring new territory.

[ Have they found anything?] asked Jack.

[ They’ve neutralised some basic security systems. Nothing else here. I don’t think the gods ever expected anyone to get in this way.]

[Complacent as ever. Where’s the door?]

[Over there.] Fist pointed at the pillar. An airlock started to open. Pale light leapt out of it. [ You’ve waited long enough,] Jack told him. [Let’s go see Mr Stabs.]

Chapter 41

‘Stabsy!’

Fist rushed to embrace Mr Stabs, his spacesuit disappearing as he reached and clutched him. Mr Stabs jerked an arm up, patted at Fist, and then let it fall. His awkward movement ended the hug.

‘I’m sorry to see you’ve been hurt,’ he said, speaking with a grating singsong quality. Alert eyes peered out of holes raggedly cut in a baggy head mask, hand-stitched from white fabric. He was dressed in dirty blue overalls and heavy work boots. One shoulder was pulled up slightly higher than the other. But for a slight stoop, he would have been taller than Jack.

‘I’ve had worse,’ shrugged Fist. He stepped back and looked up at Mr Stabs. ‘We’re going to have such fun!’ he said, his joy suddenly sounding a little forced. The airlock hissed air back into space, reminding them where they’d come from and why they were there.

‘We have business to attend to,’ Mr Stabs responded coldly. He turned to Jack and jerked out an arm. Every part of him shuddered. Jack shook his hand, half-expecting to squeeze hardwood, but there was only soft flesh and a weak, uncertain grip. He was glad not to see Tiamat’s face animated by another mind. He imagined how his own would look when fully possessed by Fist and shuddered.

‘It was very brave of Grey, returning to Heaven to ask for my help,’ Mr Stabs told him. ‘Any one of the Pantheon could have picked up his presence. If Kingdom found out how active he still was, he’d crush him like—’

His hand came up. His fingers moved jerkily, not quite pinching together.

‘Fortunately for us, he hasn’t,’ said Jack. ‘And Grey said you’d help us.’

‘I can get you into Kingdom’s compound. The rest is up to you.’

‘Then let’s get over there.’

‘It’s night here. You go first thing tomorrow. Until then, it’s back home to sleep. Follow me.’

Mr Stabs lurched, wheeled round, and began to walk. He swayed left and right with each pace, but managed to move with reasonable speed. His head jerked back towards them. ‘Come on!’ he shouted, ‘I don’t want to be missed.’

[ He used to be the coolest of the cool,] said Fist, his voice hushed with pain.

[ Him and Tiamat both.]

[And now look at him.]

The journey took an hour or so. They followed Mr Stabs down indistinguishable corridors, up and down ladders, in and out of lifts. Every so often, there was a security door. Mr Stabs had a card he’d pull out to open it.

‘Can’t you just tell the doors to open?’ Fist asked him.

‘Kingdom burnt out my weave implants before he handed me over to Grey.’

‘No weave! But what do you do with yourself ?’

‘Feed my plants. Visit other gardeners.’

[ Fuck,] said Fist quietly to himself. [ No parties.]

Jack said nothing. Meeting Mr Stabs had been a shock for both of them. He wanted to let its impact settle before talking it through with Fist.

They found themselves walking through a vast subterranean forcing house. Bright lights blazed down on rows of vegetables. Sprays hissed water. The air had a humid, tropical feel, heavy with the scent of growth.

Jack breathed in deeply. ‘I’ve never smelt anything like it.’

‘My underworld,’ Mr Stabs replied proudly. ‘And now we climb into Heaven.’ He was standing at the foot of a short ladder, leading up to a metal hatch. ‘I’ll go first. Got to check nobody’s around.’ He moved up the ladder like a broken spider, then disappeared through the hatch. A moment later his white, covered head reappeared. ‘OK. Come up.’

Jack imagined himself wearing a similar hood, Fist trapped behind it. Fist snapped him out of his reverie. ‘Come on. What are you waiting for?’

Climbing up, they found themselves in a small wooden shed. Half of it was a living area – there was a low bed, a shower cubicle and a sofa. The rest was packed with gardening equipment. A spade and fork leant against the wall. There was a workbench, half-covered with a clutter of hand tools. A lawnmower’s metal entrails spilling across the floor. Wisps of curtain covered a window.

Mr Stabs shuddered over to it and, lifting the material, peered outside.

‘All’s quiet,’ he confirmed.

‘Where are we?’ Jack asked him.

‘Grey’s corporate space. You’ll see it tomorrow. For now, keep away from the window. I’ll make you up a bed.’ He rolled a sleeping mat out by the dead lawnmower and dropped some bundled sheets on to it. ‘Best we sleep now.’

‘Stabs,’ said Fist, ‘there’s so much we’ve got to talk about. The old days—’

‘No,’ said Mr Stabs, pain evident even through the squeak of his voice. ‘I don’t like to think about that.’ He moved to stand by his bed, leant forwards at the hip, bent backwards at the knee and collapsed into a rigid sitting position. His mask leapt up and fell back, for a moment revealing Tiamat’s familiar chin and lips. His mouth was turned down.

But Fist persisted. ‘What about the future? You and me, we’re the only puppets left. We’ve got to stick together.’

‘You’re only here because Grey told me what Kingdom’s done, what he might use you to do and what you’re going to do to him. I didn’t want to see you.’

‘What?’

Mr Stabs leant backwards and pulled his legs up on to the bed, then swivelled awkwardly round and collapsed back into a lying position.

‘You and Jack. You remind me so much of how I was with David. So arrogant. Then I spent months alone with him, deep in space. I watched him lose hope. I was inside him when he died. I am what I am now because of that. It changes your perspective.’ His head jolted round to face his guests. ‘You’re lucky, Hugo. It won’t be as hard for you. You’ve both got something very important to do. You’ll either succeed or die together. And if you do defeat Kingdom, you’ll have the memory of one last, shared triumph to hold on to when Jack’s gone. I only have pain and emptiness in my past. So we’ll sleep, and in the morning you’ll go, and I won’t see you again.’

‘Stabsy—’

‘I’m going to switch the light off. Then I take off my mask.’

[ There’s so much I want to talk to him about!]

[ Hush, Fist. You heard what he said.]

Jack lay down on the sleep mat, and pulled the sheets over him. There was a click, and the bare light bulb that lit the shed flicked off.

‘G’night Stabsy,’ chirped Fist hopefully. There was a rustling from Stabs’ corner of the room, but no reply.

[ He’s so different.]

[ He’s been through a lot. It changes people.]

[ Will I change like that, once I’m real?]

[ You’re real now. And you’ve changed, too – a little over the last few years, more over the last few weeks. Coming to life – well, that’s just one more change.]

Jack felt Fist tremble.

[ I’ll feel it, won’t I? When you go.]

[ That’s what Mr Stabs says.]

[ I’m so sorry, Jack. I wish I didn’t have to do it.]

[ You see, Fist? You have changed.]

[ It seems like such a waste. You’ll die – and I’ll end up like him.]

[ It won’t be as hard on you as it was on him. You’ll have a lot more good things to remember.]

A series of hiccupping squeaks and sniffles ran through Jack’s mind.

[ It’s such a waste, Jack! All this time waiting – and you’ll be gone – and I’ll just be a fucking freak!]

[ Hush, Fist. Can you manifest?]

[ I don’t want him to see me like this.]

[ You can show yourself just to me, can’t you?]

[ I suppose.]

Jack was lying on his side. He stretched out his arms and felt a sudden density come into being between them. Fist clutched at his chest, little fists snatching at his shirt. [ It’s all so fucking pointless!] he wailed. [ Is this all there is? For me? For us?]

[ Yes,] replied Jack, [it is.]

He wrapped his arms around Fist, pulling him in tight. Fist hiccupped grief, his wooden face burrowing into Jack’s chest. Jack felt a wetness against him. Fist was simulating tears.

[ It is,] continued Jack, [and we’ll do what we’ve always done. We’ll make the best of it together. And when I’ve gone you’ll remember me, and that’ll help you make the best of it then, too.]

Fist said nothing. Jack cradled his head, gently stroking it, careful to show no emotion but care.

[ This is what being human means, Fist. It’s not just about being free. It’s about feeling sad and weak and lost, and losing people you love, and watching moments that were perfect slip away from you forever. That’s not a bad thing. The only reason it hurts is because they were so wonderful in the first place. We meet each other then part, and we’re sad, and we console ourselves with all that’s still to come.]

[ You won’t even be in the Coffin Drives!]

Emotion had completely taken over Fist now. His sadness tore at Jack.

[ I know,] he replied. [ But that might be a good thing. You’ve seen how people here refuse to let the past go. You won’t be able to do that. You’ll have to find new, real things to make you happy. You won’t be able to hide in yesterday.]

[ But I don’t want to lose you!]

[ You won’t lose me. You’ll still remember me. And you come from me. As long as you’re alive, there’ll always be a part of me around.]

[ I’ll be so lonely! Stabs won’t speak to me! And those puppet embryos are bullshit, there’s never going to be anyone else like me!]

Fist sobbed incoherently into Jack’s chest, until finally his weeping subsided. He settled into a shattered sleep still nestled in Jack’s arms.

[Mr Stabs might keep you company after all,] Jack whispered, knowing Fist wouldn’t hear. [ You could grow vegetables together. You might even be able to help him leave the past behind, too. Or maybe those puppet embryos really did survive.] But even the thought of them made Jack uneasy. He gave Fist’s tiny wooden hand a final squeeze. [ But for now – dispel.] Fist vanished. A deep, exhausted sleep soon overcame Jack, too.

The next morning, Fist was determinedly cheerful. He went bounding over to the window, looked out, and then came rushing back. Mr Stabs was standing at the door, already dressed in his white mask and a pair of underpants.

‘So, Stabsy – what’s the plan?’

Mr Stabs held his blue overalls out. ‘Put these on, pretend you’re me, make your way to Kingdom’s headquarters. You can duplicate my weave tags, can’t you?

‘No problem,’ nodded Fist. ‘Will they just let us in?’

‘You’ll be delivering seed potatoes. Mine are very much admired. They don’t blight easily. That will get you to their gardeners. Then it’s over to you.’

Jack pulled on the overalls. They fitted tolerably well, looking as shapeless and ragged on him as they had on Mr Stabs.

‘Now for the tags,’ said Mr Stabs. ‘Fist, I’ve opened myself up to you.’

Fist closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I’ve copied them over,’ he nodded. ‘We’re you now, Stabsy.’

‘Good,’ replied Mr Stabs. ‘One last thing. Everyone’s used to this mask. You’ll have to take it. Are you ready?’

‘Yes,’ said Jack.

‘Wait,’ Fist cut in. ‘What if we get caught? And they find out you helped us?’

‘This is the only way you can get close enough to Kingdom to stop him. You’ll just have to make sure you come back safely.’ There was a sad hopelessness to his voice. ‘And if you don’t, well, I’ve lived long enough.’

Then he pulled his mask off.

His face was a frozen grimace, a rictus grin snapping his mouth up and pulling the flesh of his cheeks tight. His eyes were wide open, as if he’d just been surprised. His eyebrows arced upwards, pulled into semicircles by a permanently tight forehead.

‘I don’t have very many choices,’ he explained. The smile that distorted his face reversed, frowning downwards. His expressions were so tight that the corners of his mouth and the skin around his eyes and temples were permanently bruised.

‘I can look bored too. That’s the most comfortable.’

His face settled into a third configuration, his mouth a flat slit, his eyes marginally less manic than they’d been before.

[ It’s so cruel,] said Fist. [ They haven’t upgraded his facial expression software for his new face.]

‘Is it always like that?’ Jack couldn’t resist asking.

‘Always. I’m only a lodger in this body. I’ve never felt like I owned it.’

‘No hope of an upgrade?’

‘None. It’s why I live in this little shed, not the staff accommodation blocks. They made us puppets to reassure children. But now I’m flesh I scare their adults. My face is too obviously a simplification. The implications of that are very unpleasant for them. They live in a profoundly reduced world. I remind them of that, and it makes them afraid.’

‘You’ve become quite the philosopher,’ said Fist.

‘It’s only what I see. And now to point you in the right direction. Put the mask on, Jack, and let Fist ride you. There are some dangerous people out there. You’ve got to do everything you can to convince them you’re me.’

Chapter 42

The mask was subtly crafted. From the inside, it was transparent. Jack could feel it on him, pulling back against his mouth when he breathed in, puffing out as he exhaled, and he could smell the stale tang of Mr Stabs’ sweat, but he couldn’t see it.

[More sophisticated than it looks,] he said.

[ Very impressive,] replied Fist.

[Careful!]

Distracted for a moment, Fist forgot to let Jack’s foot drop down and complete a pace. Jack nearly overbalanced. He swayed for a moment, arms waving, then regained his balance and took another step.

[ I’m sorry,] said an audibly frustrated Fist. [ I’ve never walked on bumpy ground before.]

Mr Stabs’ shed was surrounded by about a hundred square metres of carefully tended vegetable patches. A line of willow trees obscured the landscape beyond. A few hundred metres above, Heaven’s glass ceiling burned with sunlight. Jack thought of Kingdom and Yamata, and wondered if they suspected how close he was to them, how much closer he would soon be.

Another jolt broke his reverie. Fist had let one foot slip off the side of the path, nearly twisting his ankle.

[ Be careful! We won’t get anywhere if we can’t walk!]

Fist was concentrating too hard to reply. He was walking Jack’s body towards a small garage, just inside the treeline. ‘That’s where I keep my buggy,’ Mr Stabs had told them. He’d given Jack a bag of seed potatoes. ‘This is what you’ll be delivering. I’ve talked to Kingdom’s people. They’re expecting you.’ Then he gave him a handgun and several clips of bullets.

The garage opened when Fist punched in the combination. He only had to try five times.

[ You know, I’m not sure I trust you in this buggy,] Jack told him.

[ Now you know what watching you pilot a spaceship feels like.]

The buggy had two seats and a large open boot. Its paintwork was scratched, its metalwork heavily dented. One of its front lights had been smashed. Fist shrugged the potato bag into the boot, unplugged the buggy from its charger and clambered into the driver’s seat. The steering wheel and control pedals were all oversized.

[ That should make it easier,] said Fist cheerfully, ramming down the accelerator.

They bounced out of the garage and straight off the road, cannoning between two willow trees. Branches snatched at Jack, almost pulling him from his seat.

[ FOR FUCK’S SAKE, FIST!]

A small stream hurtled towards them. Fist threw the steering wheel around and kicked down on the brake pedal. The buggy shuddered to a halt.

[Perhaps you should let me drive,] said Jack. [ Nobody’ll notice that I’m in charge when we’re moving.]

[ How does he do this?] wondered Fist.

[ Judging by the state of the buggy, it took a lot of practice.]

[Oh. Right.]

Fist slipped out of Jack’s motor centres. Jack slumped then recovered himself. He reached out for the steering wheel and the accelerator pedal.

[Let’s go.]

[ Wait a moment,] said Fist. [Look over there. It’s Grey’s home.]

The stream ended in a small lake. Beyond it stood a campus of rectangular buildings. Each was all window, five storeys high. They caught and reflected a pastoral kaleidoscope of colours – greens and blues from the countryside around them, a dazzling gold-white from the sky above.

[ Not bad,] said Fist. Even Jack was slightly awed. This was the corporate home of Grey. It housed the fundamental processes that defined his patron’s consciousness. Jack wondered how the campus had looked when Grey had been fully engaged with the world.

‘Actually, not too different to now,’ said Grey.

‘Shit!’ Fist exploded.

‘Maybe a few more lights on,’ Grey continued, ignoring him. ‘Some more people here and there, everything a bit more purposeful.’

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ snapped Jack.

‘This was my home,’ Grey replied casually. ‘Where else would I be? Besides, there’s a ghoulish fascination watching the dead parts of myself.’

‘Kingdom’ll kill you completely if he sees you here.’

‘I’ve become quite good at hiding. I saw all this coming a long time ago. I was prepared. Not like my staff, sadly.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The centre did not hold. My board sleeps. Everyone who could transferred away from here. The ones that are left – well, it broke them. Look at that lot, for example.’

Grey pointed at a large pair of doors that led into an atrium. A small group pushed its way through them, carrying something long, flat and brightly coloured.

‘A stretcher,’ Jack noted. ‘Someone’s been hurt.’

‘Oh no,’ Grey told him. ‘They’re missing me. They’re trying to do something about it.’

The group walked the heavy stretcher down to the edge of the closest lake. There was a distant sound of chanting, thin voices losing themselves in the empty air.

‘I wish they knew I could hear them,’ sighed Grey. ‘I can’t ever show myself, though. Far too risky.’

‘What are they doing?’

They manhandled the stretcher into a small boat and stood back. Brightly coloured feathers waved in the air.

‘Is that someone tied to it?’

‘I can’t see. And I can’t get any closer to them, Kingdom would spot me.’

One of the small figures held her arms up in the air. The rest knelt round her and chanted. She threw something into the boat, then kicked it away from the shore. It drifted out across the lake. The group roared as flames leapt out of it.

‘I hope it was just a dummy,’ said Grey sadly.

‘I’m surprised you care,’ Jack told him.

‘Oh, I do. I’ve just accepted there’s not much I can do. That’s what you’re here for.’

‘I’m not trying to help you.’

‘No. But you’re not just out for yourself, are you? All those people need you. They need someone to show them a way out of this mess.’

‘Why isn’t the Pantheon helping them?’

‘Kingdom won’t let any of the others in. He livecasts all this to warn people what happens without gods.’

The small figures stripped and started rolling around in the grass, clumped together in groups of two, three and even four.

‘Most of us do our best, you know. We give you an awful lot, Jack.’

‘You take more back.’

‘We’re just trying to help you live, and we need to be alive ourselves to do that. But Kingdom – there’s something else going on there. He needs stopping. Not just for your sake or mine, but for everyone’s.’

‘There has to be change, Grey.’

‘Yes. But not on Kingdom’s terms.’

[ Why are you listening to this jerk, Jack?]

[ Hush.]

‘I’ll be watching. If I can, I’ll help you.’ Grey squeezed Jack’s knee. Despite himself, love flooded through him. ‘That wasn’t me, Jack. I’m not manipulating you now. Remember I’ve always done my best for you.’ Grey vanished as he spoke. His last words were a breeze in Jack’s ear. ‘None of it was just for me.’

[Creepy old fucker,] muttered Fist.

Jack kicked the buggy into movement, and set off again. It took them along the other side of the lake from the group of Grey worshippers. As they passed them a group of black-clad figures emerged from the main doors, ran across the grass, and started breaking up the orgy with baseball bats.

[ That’ll be security,] said Fist.

[ I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.]

The road crossed a bridge, then passed between two of the large glass buildings. A few of the offices were busy. The workers bending over their desks looked like little model figures. Some showed signs of the despair driving the group by the lake. One window was spattered with blood. A body hung from the ceiling of another. Every so often, there would be naked people. Some would be copulating, some perhaps sleeping, some just staring out at a world that no longer made sense.

[Grey’s incorporate,] said Jack. [Everyone’s strings have been cut.]

The parkland surrounding the offices showed signs of disturbance, too. Black, charred stumps implied a small glade of trees, burnt to the ground. A round white circle had been raggedly inscribed on the ground, a human head sketched out within it. There were signs of burning there too. Jack imagined other rituals.

A horn barked behind them, and they pulled off the road. A large buggy roared past, full of security operatives. ‘Watch out, Stabs!’ one of them shouted. It turned off the road ahead of them, bumping over grass, and disappeared behind another building.

[ The sooner we get out of here, Fist, the better.]

[ I’m surprised that Stabs hasn’t had any problems.]

[ They must be too afraid of him.]

Ahead of them, a metal fence marked the edge of Grey’s domain. The road stopped at a checkpoint. An armed security guard waved them down. Jack recognised Kingdom sigils on his uniform.

[ You’d better take back over, Fist.]

A tight grin carved itself into Jack’s face as it became Fist’s. It was lucky they were moving so slowly. Fist could just about keep them on the road. When they pulled up by the guard Jack felt very relieved.

‘Hello, Stabs. Where are you off to?’

‘Making a delivery to Kingdom.’ Fist had possessed Jack’s voice, too. ‘It should be on your transport log,’ he squeaked. The guard reached forward and lifted the silk mask. Fist used Jack’s face to grin at him. ‘It’s me, all right!’ The guard winced and let the mask drop.

‘I’ve seen some scary things in there, but you’re the worst.’

[Don’t rise to the bait, Fist.]

‘You can pass.’

And they were on their way. The road quickly joined a much larger one. It ran between the different corporate headquarters that had colonised the fields of Heaven. Looking back, they could see that the fence ran all the way around Grey’s complex. There were guard towers at regular intervals. Ahead of them, there was nothing but soft, green landscape. A gentle breeze floated across it. birdsong drifted from small, scattered glades, nestling in gently rolling hills.

[ You know what I’ve just realised,] said Jack.

[ What?]

[ None of this is weave. It’s all real.]

[ Fucking gods, keeping the best for themselves.]

It took them almost an hour to reach Kingdom’s compound. There was very little traffic on the road. They passed The Twins and Sandal’s headquarters along the way. Halfway through the journey, Fist announced that he was bored. Suddenly there were three black hounds tracking them at right, and four at left. The dogs ran across the countryside, pacing out the miles with loose, loping steps. Their eyes blazed with fire and their tongues danced in their mouths like burning whips. At last, they neared Kingdom’s headquarters. The pack drifted into invisibility. They turned into an access road and Kingdom’s base rose up before them – a vast square block, several storeys high, with a high, dark tower rising out of each corner.

[ It looks like an upside down table,] Fist commented.

[ I’m sure that wasn’t the effect Kingdom was going for.]

[ You’re going to have to take my body again in a moment.]

[ Busy just now. I’m cracking Kingdom’s security protocols. Even easier the second time.]

A security booth appeared in front of them. Jack slowed down.

[ You need to take over NOW.]

Fist stepped into his body at the last possible moment. The guard asked for ID. Jack heard his own voice speak another’s words. The small inquisition was quickly done, and they were on their way again.

[Much more relaxed than the one at Grey’s,] commented Fist.

[Grey’s people are more difficult to deal with.]

[ Would you all be like that, without your gods?]

[ No,] snapped Jack. [ How’s the breaking and entering going?]

[ I’m in their systems. I’ve unlocked an emergency door for us to use. Then I’ll get us straight to Yamata.]

[ We’ve got a delivery to make first. It’ll look suspicious if we don’t.]

Kingdom’s gardeners worked a small farm space behind his headquarters. His gardeners were very grateful for the delivery. ‘I guess we’re even now,’ one of them said. Another punched Jack on the shoulder when Fist limped him off the buggy. ‘Always good to see you, Stabs.’ Fist had Jack chat with them and share a few jokes, before making excuses about the need to return, ‘to keep an eye on things’. There were nods, a slap on the back, a half-muttered comment about ‘it’s tough over there’. As they drove away Fist commented, [ They really seem to respect him.] There was a hint of relief in his voice.

They hid the buggy in bushes by the emergency door. It hissed open as they approached it. A long corridor stretched away from them, brutally lit by fluorescent lights. Fist let Jack take his body back.

[ That’s a relief,] sighed Jack.

[All that flesh! It’s too big and too blundery. Not an easy ride.]

[ You need to grow up in one to really get it. Now, let’s go. You’ve definitely broken their security?]

[ We won’t be tripping any alarms. And I’ll be keeping us out of the way of Kingdom’s staff.]

Fist led Jack on a complex dance through the building. They passed large open spaces packed with cubicles, meeting rooms where all eyes watched invisible presentations on empty walls, production spaces where white-coated figures tended machines that throbbed gently in semi-darkness, server farms where drive stacks henged into the distance. Sometimes Fist urgently whispered [Stop,] or [Duck left,] or [ Hide in there!] Jack would find himself dodging invisible enemies, as someone walked by just behind the last door or round the last corner.

When he wasn’t giving instructions, Fist was unusually quiet and focused. Jack assumed that he was concentrating hard on the task at hand.

They soon found themselves in a nondescript facilities room. A service lift door, about twice as high as Jack, loomed out of a treated concrete wall.

[Pretty dull, eh?]

[ Nothing special,] Jack agreed.

[So we’re meant to think. But I’m a lot smarter than they are.]

Fist overlaid his understanding of the corridor space on Jack’s. The air buzzed, dense with energy. Cobweb-light lines of security code drifted through it.

[ I’ve told them not to read us as a threat,] Fist cackled. [ If only they knew!]

Jack put his hand out to catch some code. It wrapped itself round his fingers, then flowed over them and away, leaving a tingling sensation.

[ If you didn’t have little wooden me to look after you,] Fist told him, [you’d be unconscious. Wall mounted tasters. There’d be guards here in a couple of minutes. If you’d even found this place, that is. It’s invisible when you’re onweave.]

[Good thing you’re here then, Mr Modesty. Can anyone see it?]

[ Hardly any of Kingdom’s people have the access codes. Most of the ones that do are at the other end of the lift.]

[ Yamatas?]

[Lots of them. It’s the mother lode. And we’re armed and ready.]

Seven silhouettes pulsed into being around them, sniffing at the air, noses chasing code. They snuffled out individual lines and snapped fire-teeth at them. They flared up like dry paper when touched, burning away into nothingness.

[ The original Yamata’s up there too. Want to see?]

[Oh, yes.]

A whisper of command from Fist, and the world around them fell away. The facilities room became shifting, glimmering lights. They were denser and brighter where the dogs stood, looser and paler where code drifted in the air like snow. The building beyond manifested as a glowing constellation of data. Jack looked down at himself. A suggestion of a body shimmered beneath him – his dataself. Buried within it was a dense foetus of glowing points, a swarm of fireflies pretending to be a human child.

[ Is that you, Fist?] he asked.

[ Yes. Little me inside big old you. And there’s the Eastware and the Greyware.]

A soft suggestion of a finger nudged at tiny patterns running through Jack’s body. The Eastware shivered, a glamour of tiny stars. The Greyware was a denser and more pervasive fog.

[ This is how you see the world?]

[Most of the time, yes.]

[ You’ve never shown me this before.]

[ It’s very private. It’s one of the few things I have that’s unique to me.]

[ Thank you, Fist,] said Jack. [ I’m touched.] Fist said nothing. [And we can see Yamata from here?]

The ghost child inside Jack pointed up. Soft light shimmered far above them, barely visible through the intervening datahaze.

[ I’ll zoom in a bit closer,] Fist said. [ Take a proper look at the old bitch.]

Suddenly they were flying upwards, but there was no sensation of movement.

[ You can really go anywhere, can’t you?]

[ I can see anywhere. I can’t go anywhere.]

[ How do you even know what reality is?]

[ It’s the place where mortals can’t fly. Now – we’re as close as we can get without alerting her.]

[Gods,] said Jack. [ I know that thing.]

[ Yup,] Fist replied. [ It’s the fucking jellyfish again.]

It was the entity they’d seen in TrueShield. Now they weren’t under attack, Jack could inspect it more closely. Yamata’s consciousness had pulled the original structures of the stolen Totality mind away from perfection. It had become a pale, sickly presence prowling shifting tides of data. Instead of reaching tautly out in all directions from a blazing, spherical data core to form a shining star, its connectors hung down like tentacles, billowing gently in the digital breeze. Masses of thin, low bandwidth strands skirted a core of thicker, denser high capacity pipes, flickering with soft dancing lights as information flashed through them. The data core had decayed, too, half-deflating into a soft, saggy oval. Its heart flickered with one colour only, a vivid, artificial purple – the same colour that burned softly behind Yamata’s eyes.

[ What’s she connected to?] wondered Jack.

Her tentacles drifted above small, softly glowing orbs. When Jack looked directly at one, more and more detail loomed larger and larger until he had to snap his eyes away, afraid that he would lose himself.

[ I don’t know,] replied Fist thoughtfully. [ They look like weave servers, but very heavily remodelled. Remember all the Yamatas? Maybe that’s how they connect to the bodies.]

[Quite a few there. They’ll help us prove what she is and what she’s done. Can we just remote access them from here?]

[ No – she’s very heavily protected, there’s a structural firewall supporting the virtual one. We need to be physically inside that space to interact with her.]

For a moment, they drifted together, the great, alien shape of their opponent pulsing gently before them.

[ Jack,] said Fist, suddenly more serious. [Once we’re in, we won’t have very long before Kingdom finds out we’re there.]

[A few minutes tops. But you’ll be able to find and transmit everything we need to bring him down.]

[Oh yes. I’m not worried about that. And Yamata’s not a threat. But what happens next?]

[ We get out. Fast.]

[ You told me to think about consequences. We’re surrounded by thousands of Kingdom’s people. A god will rise and crush us. It’ll be quite the battle!]

[ You’re right, Fist,] sighed Jack. It was a question he’d hoped to avoid. [ I thought we’d just sneak out again. But now we’re in here …]

[ You don’t think we’re going to get out of this, do you?]

[ Fist—]

[ Just be honest with me, Jack.]

Jack sighed again. [ I’m sorry. We should have talked about it. I just couldn’t—]

[Pessimist! See where thinking about consequences gets you. Of course, there is another way out.]

[ We can’t just kill Kingdom, Fist.]

[Oh, I know that. Not without even more consequences to deal with. Don’t you worry, I’ve been thinking very hard about that.]

There was a long silence. A god’s business carried on around them, a silent babel of meanings and purposes.

[ There’s something I need to ask you too,] said Jack. [Are you really up to this? I mean, after the fight at TrueShield?]

[ I’m one hundred per cent!]

[ I saw your attack systems when you spooled them up against Harry. They didn’t look like that to me.]

[Oh Jack!] said Fist. [ I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.]

[Difficult not to. How are they really?]

[All the basics are fine. We can take on as many Yamatas as we want to, no problem at all. But when it comes to Pantheon members, it’s trickier. Everything’s a bit fragile. One shot left.]

[And once you’ve taken it?]

[ Higher attack systems completely burnt out. I’m a one-shot Pantheon gun, and then that’s it. Fuck, it would be good to kill Kingdom.] Fist waved up through the datahaze. [ He’s up there, somewhere. I could probably hit him from here.]

[ We talked about that, Fist.]

[ I know.] Now it was Fist’s turn to sigh. [Life, eh? Full of complexities. Pretty unpleasant for everyone, when it comes down to it. Nasty, brutal and short.] He laughed. [Like me, come to think of it!]

Jack laughed too. [ I suppose so, Fist.] It surprised him that Fist was accepting the situation so easily, but he wasn’t going to question it. [Should we wait and see if Yamata ever goes dormant?] he wondered. [So we can catch her off-guard?]

[ Things like her don’t sleep. Come on Jack, we’re going into battle for the first time in five years,] thrilled Fist. [Let’s get fucking to it!]

Chapter 43

A heavily encoded blip to Ifor and Lestak – ‘At Yamata’s base in Kingdom’s HQ. Going in’ – and then they entered the lift. It was built on an industrial scale, large enough to take a small vehicle. The dogs shimmered into being around them – seven dark silhouettes, dripping fire from burning maws, padding with a hunter’s silence. They were tense with expectation, growling and snapping at each other.