Synaptic Manhunt

‘Suit yourself. You’ve still got to make up your mind what to do with us.’

‘You will go back to your quarterth. I will conphider the pwoblem.’

The Minstrel Boy pushed back his coat, and planted his hands on his hips. His belt of knives was in full view of the blessed Joachim.

‘Don’t take too long about it, will you?’

***

Before they moved out for the attack on the valley, A.A. Catto insisted on reviewing her troops like a warrior queen in an ancient movie. It was an uncomfortable performance as far as Billy, Reave and Nancy were concerned. By the late morning, the mountain mist had turned to a heavy drizzle and the ground around the village was rapidly being churned to mud under the horses’ hooves. Billy sat uncomfortably on a large black horse. He had never ridden a horse before, and the experience unnerved him. The damp was slowly soaking into the heavy fur poncho that was wrapped around him. Under it he still wore the pimp suit from Litz. He could have changed into the same garb as the horsemen wore, but he was reluctant to go that native. He felt it identified him too strongly as A.A. Catto’s subject and property.

Reave had had no such reservations. He sat beside Billy arrayed exactly like any of the horsemen, except that he didn’t carry one of the long slender spears. Nancy had also changed to the native garb. A.A. Catto had given her second pick on the ex-queen’s wardrobe.

The three of them sat on their mounts facing a line of fifty or more horsemen. In the space between, A.A. Catto trotted her horse up and down, haranguing her army in what Billy supposed she thought was a suitably regal and inspiring manner.

The horsemen sat very still, gripping their spears, in a perfect line. Billy wondered what they thought about the changes that A.A. Catto had made in their lives. Billy looked down the line. Their impassive faces were almost totally hidden, as well hidden as their minds. Billy had had a number of theories about the horsemen. The first had been that they were chronically stupid. But their physical coordination and prowess with weapons and horses seemed to negate that idea. Billy had wondered, from the way they rarely spoke, and used gestures to convey quite complex ideas, if they might be low level telepaths. Currently Billy entertained the idea that they could be highly intelligent, but with that intelligence totally strait jacketed by conditioning and genetic tailoring. It was the best theory so far, but he was by no means certain about it.

A.A. Catto at long last completed her address to her loyal troops. Billy had managed to avoid hearing most of the monologue. As the horsemen formed themselves into a column of two, Billy wondered idly if she had managed to work in anything about her having the body of a frail and feeble woman, but the heart and stomach of a man. He knew it wasn’t beyond her.

The column started out of the village and down the mountainside. Four horsemen preceded it, then came A.A. Catto and Nancy riding side by side. Behind them rode Billy and Reave, followed by the remainder of the force. Billy had no clue how the horsemen found their way in the thick fog, but the column seemed to wind down the slope in such a positive manner that he didn’t doubt they were going in the right direction.

Despite the foul weather A.A. Catto and Nancy chattered together all through the ride. Billy and Reave, on the other hand, rode in damp sullen silence. The situation seemed to have escalated to such a point that there was nothing left for them to say.

They finally broke out of the mist into the sunshine at the base of the slope. The ziggurat was in front of them in the valley. The column halted. A.A. Catto raised her hand and the ranks divided, each horseman peeling off neatly in turn until they formed a single line abreast. They sat silently for a while. Billy gazed down at the ziggurat. He could see tiny figures moving backwards and forwards on the various levels of the building and working in the fields. It was hard to believe that within the next few minutes they were to be slaughtered.

A.A. Catto leaned across and muttered something to the horseman next to her. He made a series of signals with his left hand. Except for Nancy, Billy, Reave, A.A. Catto and three horsemen on either side of them, the whole line began to move forward at a slow even walk. After about a hundred metres, another signal was given, and the line of horsemen accelerated to a trot. When they’d covered the same distance again, they broke into a controlled canter. They lowered their spears.

When the line was a matter of some two hundred metres from the ziggurat, a wild cry went up and they broke into a gallop. They thundered towards the huge black structure. Some of the blue-robed priests saw them, and began to run for the safety of the building.

The line split in two. Half the force wheeled round and swept across the fields, riding down the workers as they went. The remainder raced towards the ziggurat. When they were only a few metres from the walls, they abruptly lowered their spears and dug the tips into the ground. Their forward momentum jerked the horsemen from their saddles. Almost as one they soared into the air, holding their spears like pole vaulters. They landed lightly on the first tier of the ziggurat, dropped their spears and pulled out their knives. They moved forward in a rush and fell on Joachim’s followers, hacking and slaying like machines. Billy glanced round at Reave.

‘Did you see that manoeuvre?’

Reave nodded.

‘I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself.’

A.A. Catto turned to the others.

‘It’s time we moved down there.’

Billy scowled.

‘Don’t want to miss being in for the kill?’

A.A. Catto ignored him, kicked her horse and went down the slope at a swift canter. Nancy and the horsemen kept pace with her, while Billy and Reave trailed behind.

By the time they reached the ziggurat, the workers in the fields had either been killed or chased inside the building. The majority of horsemen had also moved inside, although a few still stalked Joachim’s men on the outside upper levels. A.A. Catto halted in front of the building and looked round, surveying the carnage. She dismounted and walked towards the nearest set of steps. Billy quickly rode up beside her.

‘Are you really going to kill everyone?

She looked up at him in surprise.

‘Of course. That was the point of the whole operation.’

‘Couldn’t you call it off and let the survivors go? They can’t cause you any trouble. They aren’t even offering your horsemen any resistance.’

A.A. Catto stared at Billy with contempt.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. They have to be exterminated.’

‘Why?’

A.A. Catto didn’t bother to answer him. She began to climb the steps to the first level. Billy yelled after her.

‘You’re insane! You hear me? You’re crazy!’

A.A. Catto continued to walk up the stairs. She pretended not to hear him. Reave reined in beside Billy.

‘You won’t achieve anything by yelling at her.’

‘There’s got to be some way to get her to stop this whole thing.’

Reave shook his head with an air of finality.

‘There’s no way.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘I lived with her for all that time, didn’t I? She sees herself as some kind of female Attila and nothing we can do will change it. It’ll probably get worse before she finds a new game.’

‘How can you be so calm about it?’

‘It ain’t me that she wants to exterminate.’

‘So what do we do?’

Reave started to dismount.

‘Just keep out of sight and hope she doesn’t turn against us.’

Billy sighed and swung himself to the ground.

‘I suppose you’re right.’

They began to climb the steps up to the upper levels. They had to pick their way between the sprawled, lifeless bodies of Joachim’s followers. The sound of screaming drifted down from above them. It seemed as though the survivors were retreating to the top of the ziggurat.

Billy and Reave continued to climb slowly. Occasionally they’d see a few of the blue-robed priests pursued by knife-wielding horsemen across one of the ornamental terraces.

Bodies floated in the pools formed by the artificial stream that cascaded down the ziggurat from level to level. They went on cautiously climbing, doing their best to avoid the killing.

They were about two thirds of the way up the building, and standing at the foot of a long ramp that traversed two levels. The screams had died down a little. Suddenly two figures appeared at the top of the ramp, and started desperately running down it. They weren’t like the other followers of Joachim. One was an old man in a kind of white smock. The other was a thin figure in a black frock coat and wide brimmed hut.

Four horsemen appeared at the top of the ramp. They had knives in their hands and were obviously chasing the two figures. One of the horsemen took one of a set of weighted thongs from his belt. Without breaking step he swung it, and let go. The device curled round the old man’s legs. He fell, and rolled helplessly down the ramp. His companion stopped and turned. His hand flashed to his belt, whipped something out, and threw it. One of the horsemen clutched at his throat and fell. He too rolled down the ramp. Recognition dawned on Billy. He spun round and grabbed Reave by the arm.

‘It’s the Minstrel Boy!’

The Minstrel Boy was bending over the older man, tugging at the thongs that were wound round his legs. The horsemen were racing down the ramp towards him. Billy started running up to head them off. Reave reluctantly followed him. Billy had gone only a couple of paces when he realized that the horsemen would reach the Minstrel Boy before him. He threw the fur cape off his shoulders and pulled out his gun. One of the horsemen was in the act of swinging his knife at the Minstrel Boy. Billy fired. The horseman tottered backwards, and plunged over the side of the ramp.

Billy fired twice more and the other two fell to the ground. One rolled almost the length of the ramp before coming to rest at Reave’s feet. Billy hurried across to where the Minstrel Boy was helping the old man to his feet.

‘Are you all right?’

The Minstrel Boy dusted himself down.

‘Yeah, but we gotta get the fuck out of here. These crazy barbarians are killing everyone.’

Billy scratched his ear.

‘I think you’ll be all right with us.’

The Minstrel Boy was on his knees pulling his throwing knife out of the horseman’s throat. He looked up incredulously at Billy.

‘You mean you’re with these people?’

‘Kind of.’

The Minstrel Boy stuck the knife back in his belt.

‘Why, for chrissakes?’

‘It’s A.A. Catto. She’s taken over this whole tribe. She’s gone a little mad.’

The Minstrel Boy pushed back his hat.

‘Godzilla motherfucker!’

Before Billy could explain any further, A.A. Catto herself appeared at the top of the ramp.

‘What’s going on here? I heard shots.’

She saw the dead horsemen and hurried down the ramp, followed by Nancy and an escort of horsemen. Her face was dark with anger.

‘Who killed my men?’

She jabbed her finger at Billy.

‘Did you do this?’

‘I had to.’

‘What do you mean, you had to?’

Billy pointed to the Minstrel Boy and the Wanderer.

‘These people are my friends. Your men were going to kill them. I had to stop them.’

‘So you shot them.’

‘There was no alternative.’

A.A. Catto swung round to face the Minstrel Boy.

‘Don’t I know you?’

The Minstrel Boy scowled.

‘You ought to. You had me tied up in your hotel room for long enough.’

A.A. Catto’s eyes narrowed.

‘Of course. You’re the one. You were with him. The one that was trying to murder me.’

She turned to her escort.

‘Kill him.’

The guards moved towards the Minstrel Boy. He backed away holding up his hands.

‘Wait a goddamn minute, will you! You’ll find out you’re making a big mistake if you kill me.’

A.A. Catto looked dubious, but motioned to the horsemen to stop.

‘What mistake?’

‘I’m here, so doesn’t it occur to you that Jeb Stuart Ho might be here as well?’

A.A. Catto looked a little alarmed.

‘The assassin? He’s here? Where is he?’

‘Guarantee you’ll let me and my buddy here live, and I’ll tell you.’

A.A. Catto almost spat at him.

‘Guarantee nothing. Tell me, or I’ll have it tortured out of you.’

The Minstrel Boy glanced at the Wanderer and then gave in.

‘He’s here all right. He’s gone up the mountain, looking for you.’

A.A. Catto nodded.

‘That’s all I need to know. Now I can have you killed.’

The Minstrel Boy talked very fast.

‘It’d still be a mistake.’

‘You think so?’

‘Sure, after all, we know Ho. We could help you get him.’

A.A. Catto wasn’t impressed.

‘I’ll send a squad of my horsemen after him. They’ll be quite able to deal with him. Your help won’t be needed.’

‘We’ve got a lot of other talents. I mean, you’ll probably want to switch off the globes and get the stuff receiver working. The Wanderer here, him and me can handle them kind of things.’

A.A. Catto turned to the Wanderer.

‘Is this true?’

‘What we don’t know about stuff receivers ain’t worth knowing.’

The Minstrel Boy smiled ingratiatingly.

‘I can be pretty useful in my own way. Didn’t I get you that airship back in Litz?’

A.A. Catto still looked doubtful. Then she made up her mind.

‘I’ll let you live until my men come back with the assassin’s body. Then I’ll decide what to do with you.’

The Minstrel Boy let out a sigh of relief.

‘We’re right grateful to you, ma’am.’

A.A. Catto started to walk away, giving instructions for the hunting of Jeb Stuart Ho. Abruptly she stopped and looked back at Billy.

‘I’m holding you responsible for these friends of yours. Whatever their fate is, you’ll share it.’

She turned and walked away with her men.

***

The blue-robed priest made his way carefully up the mist-shrouded mountainside with Jeb Stuart Ho close behind him. They threaded their way between the outcrops of rocks and stunted bushes. A primitive hunter’s instinct was getting a grip on Jeb Stuart Ho. Now he was so close to his quarry he could feel a dangerous excitement building up inside him. He was impatient to complete his task. His hand went to the hilt of his sword and caressed it briefly. He found himself imagining the swift blow that would dispatch A.A. Catto. He was surprised at the vividness of the vision.

The priest halted and peered into the mist. Jeb Stuart Ho moved up and crouched beside him.

‘Are we near the village?’

‘We are very close. I am surprised we do not hear any sounds of life.’

They moved cautiously forward, halting every few metres. There was absolute silence under the blanket of fog. The priest started to become uneasy.

‘I pray I haven’t made some error. We should be right at the village, and yet we hear nothing.’

They went on creeping across the damp landscape. The dark shape of some kind of building loomed out of the mist. Jeb Stuart Ho touched the young priest’s arm.

‘This surely must be part of the village.’

The priest nodded.

‘It is, but I cannot understand the silence.’

Jeb Stuart Ho drew his sword.

‘You wait here. I’ll go in and investigate.’

‘You do not want me to come with you?’

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

‘There may be fighting. You must wait here. I’ll need you to guide me back to the ziggurat.’

The priest sank down on to the damp grass, and Jeb Stuart

Ho moved cautiously forward. With his sword gripped tightly in his hand, he approached the first hut. There was still no sound or movement. He located the door. It was made of solid wood, and closed. He pressed his ear to it. Nothing. He took a step back. At least, in this place he didn’t have to worry about lasers or projectile weapons. He launched himself at the door. It burst open. He dropped into a crouch as he hit the middle of the hut, and turned on the balls of his feet, his sword stuck straight out in front of him.

There was nobody in the hut. It contained two narrow beds, a chest, a couple of crude wall hangings, but no people. He moved on to the next one, and found that that too was deserted. He broke into hut after hut, but they were all empty. In a larger building that dominated the village he discovered the last, faintly warm embers of a log fire. This finally convinced him. The inhabitants of the village had all, for some reason, left. If A.A. Catto was still alive she had apparently been taken with them. Jeb Stuart Ho hurried back to where the priest was waiting for him.

‘They have all gone.’

The priest nodded.

‘I discovered the same fact.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him in surprise.

‘You did?’

‘I scouted a little, while you were in the village. I found the fresh tracks of many horses, leading away from here.’

The priest led Jeb Stuart Ho to the line of tracks. They could hardly be missed. The ground was soft and muddy, and had been churned up by dozens of sets of hooves. They formed an unmistakable trail down the mountainside. Jeb Stuart Ho and the priest walked beside it in silence for a long time. The priest seemed more and more thoughtful. Finally Jeb Stuart Ho pressed him as to what was wrong.

‘Is something troubling you?’

‘I am puzzled.’

‘By what?’

‘I could be mistaken, but they appear to be leading in the direction of the ziggurat.’

‘Why should the whole village come down from the mountain?’

The priest looked troubled.

‘That is the mystery. It has never happened before.’

‘You believe something is wrong?’

‘I don’t know. The horsemen are wild and violent. They would not be happy in the valley. However, we will soon be out of the fog and we will be able to see more clearly.’

As the priest predicted they very soon emerged from the oppressive fog and out on to the clear lower slopes. The sky was reddening into a perfectly programmed sunset. The ziggurat cast a long shadow across the valley. It was a scene of peace and tranquillity. The priest stopped for a moment, and stared carefully at his home. Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him questioningly.

‘Is all well?’

The priest continued to stare at the ziggurat.

‘I think so, although there is a certain lack of movement.’

‘Maybe they have all gone inside. Could it be that the horsemen have requested some kind of meeting?’

The priest frowned.

‘I cannot tell. It is beyond my knowledge. They have never before left the mountain.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at the ground in front of them.

‘Their tracks certainly lead to the ziggurat.’

The priest nodded.

‘That is what makes it so strange.’

‘All we can do is go there and find out. The man who learns is the man who seeks knowledge. The successful hunter is not the one who waits for his quarry to pay him a visit.’

The priest looked at him in confusion.

‘I’m sorry, I do not understand.’

‘It is merely a saying.’

They started to walk down the slope. They had not gone very far when a group of mounted figures detached themselves from the shadow of the building and began coming up the slope towards them. Jeb Stuart Ho stopped. As the horsemen drew nearer, he saw that they wore rudimentary armour and carried long lances. His hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword. The priest, however, didn’t share his caution. He smiled at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Now maybe we will find out what has come to pass.’

Before Ho could stop him, the young man was hurrying down the mountainside to meet the group of riders. He ran towards them waving his arms. For a moment Jeb Stuart Ho thought that his suspicions had been unfounded. He was about to follow the priest when the leading rider lowered his spear and neatly skewered the unfortunate priest. As his dying scream faded away, Jeb Stuart Ho whipped out his sword and fell into a defensive crouch.

The horsemen made high-pitched eerie cries and came at him. There were seven of them in all. He knew that despite his almost certainly superior fighting skills he would be hard pressed to overcome seven mounted warriors. One was some way ahead of the others. He came straight at Ho, crouched over his lance. Ho saw an advantage in that the rider apparently expected no resistance. Ho dropped his sword and stood very still. The tip of the lance, with the full weight of man and beast behind it, came straight at his chest. At the last minute, he turned from the hips. The lance missed him by a hand’s breadth. He grasped the weapon with both hands and jerked with all his strength. The rider tumbled from his saddle. Before he could get to his feet Jeb Stuart Ho kicked him hard between the eyes, driving the bridge of his nose up into his skull. The man died without a sound, and Ho turned to face the next of his attackers.

Two of them came at him side by side, with a third slightly behind. Ho dropped to the ground so the lances went over his head, then he snapped back up again as the horses thundered past on either side of him. He grasped each man’s nearest foot and pushed upwards, effectively unseating them. The third one was almost on him. Jeb Stuart Ho launched himself into space. His outstretched foot caught the man under the armpit, and they hit the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Ho was the first on his feet, and he quickly dispatched the man by stamping down hard on his throat.

The two he had unseated were now dancing towards him with drawn knives. The three more who were still on their horses had overshot, and were wheeling round for another attack. Jeb Stuart Ho was some distance from where his sword lay, and he began edging towards it. One of the men he’d thrown to the ground sprung at him in a balletic leap, swinging his long knife in a wide arc. Ho twisted sideways and the knife missed his face by the merest fraction. He caught the horseman off balance and jerked his wrist downwards, at the same time bringing up his knee under the man’s arm. There was a sharp crack as the arm broke. The horseman screamed and staggered away.

One of the mounted warriors swung a set of weighted thongs at Ho. Ho caught one of the weights with his left hand, and hurled them at the nearest attacker on foot. The thongs wrapped themselves around his chest, pinning his knife arm to his side. Jeb Stuart Ho seized his own sword and slashed at the pinnioned horseman’s neck.

That left three still coming at him, and they were all mounted. They thundered down on him in a tight group. Three lances were directed at him. Jeb Stuart Ho dropped into a crouch, and jumped. His feet struck the middle rider in the chest, and as he hit the ground Ho stabbed the point of his sword up under the man’s chin. That left two.

They swung round, jumped from their horses and hit the ground running. Their knives were in their hands. Jeb Stuart Ho shook one of his own knives free from the sheath on his arm, and threw it underarm at one of the horsemen. It struck him just below the right eye. The handle stuck out through the eye hole of his helmet.

It was just one on one. The last horseman slashed at Jeb Stuart Ho with his heavy leaf-bladed knife. Ho parried and backed off a step. The horseman pressed home his attack. Ho continued to duck and parry. He thrust at the horseman but his blow was turned to the side. The horseman was good, but he had little chance against the long, two-handed sword. Ho made the point dance in a lightning triple manoeuvre, and the knife flew from the horseman’s hand. The rider stood still and resigned as Jeb Stuart Ho ran his sword into his chest.

Ho put his foot on the horseman’s body and wrenched out the sword. He looked round for the surviving attacker whose arm he had broken. It was rapidly getting dark. The man was some distance away, limping quickly towards the ziggurat. Jeb Stuart Ho wiped his sword and carefully put it away. He let his arms fall limply at his side and squatted down on his haunches. He allowed the tension of the fight to drain out of him. If nothing else, it had demonstrated where he would find A.A. Catto, even if it had cost six lives to do it. Ho sat and stared at the huge black building and pondered his next move.

***

‘Seven of you? He defeated seven of you? Single-handed?’

A.A. Catto looked as though she was going to burst. The single horseman who had escaped from the fight with Jeb Stuart Ho stood rigidly in front of what had once been the blessed Joachim’s throne. A.A. Catto now sat bolt upright amid the white cushions. The carpet at her feet was stained with blood. The horseman’s broken arm dangled useless at his side. His face was impassive.

‘You realize that this means the assassin is still loose. It means that I’m still in danger. This is intolerable.’

Nancy moved to A.A. Catto’s side.

‘He won’t be able to get at you here, surrounded by your own army.’

A.A. Catto’s jaw muscles clenched spasmodically.

‘He took out seven of them, didn’t he? And anyway, while he’s alive how can I relax? How can I find any sort of peace while he’s running around looking for ways to kill me?’

‘You could send out more men to get him.’

A.A. Catto shook her head.

‘That’s not good enough. He can fight the horsemen. I’ve got to find a way so I can be sure. He’s got to be killed.’

A.A. Catto slumped back into the cushions of the throne. She lay hunched up, preoccupied and deep in thought. Nancy nervously examined her fingernails. A.A. Catto looked as though she was building up for some sort of outburst. Ever since the taking of the ziggurat her bouts of hysterical temper had been getting more and more violent. Abruptly she sat up and gestured imperiously at her escort.

‘Fetch Billy Oblivion and his so-called friends.’

Nancy looked at her in surprise.

‘What do you want them for?’

‘They claimed they could help me when they were begging me to let them live. Now’s the time for them to prove it. If they can come up with a way to get the assassin they can live. If they can’t then I’ll have them killed.’

Three of the escort marched smartly out of the throne room. The survivor of the fight still stood stiffly in front of the throne. He had turned very pale, and was swaying slightly. Nancy touched A.A. Catto gently on the arm. She pointed to the injured man.

‘What are we going to do about him?’

‘What do you mean, do about him?’

‘Shouldn’t he have treatment or something?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘But he’s obviously in pain.’

A.A. Catto looked at Nancy in surprise.

‘He’s no more use to me.’

She waved to the escort again.

‘Take him out and kill him.’

Nancy didn’t say anything as the wounded horseman walked stiffly away surrounded by three of the escort. She noted that ‘kill’ seemed to be A.A. Catto’s favourite word of the moment. Nancy didn’t want to take any chances. A.A. Catto sat tapping her fingernails until Billy, Reave, the Minstrel Boy and the Wanderer were brought in.

The Minstrel Boy looked round carefully as they were marched down the long throne room. The place was crowded with horsemen. They smelled strongly of sweat and leather. A lot of the fittings had been smashed, and most of the candles had been extinguished except for one set that threw light down on the throne. They reached the foot of the steps and halted. A.A. Catto stared at them for a long time without speaking. Billy began to think that, somehow, her eyes were becoming more and more like those of a poisonous snake. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

‘You sent for us?’

‘The assassin is still alive.’

Billy glanced round at the others. They all tried to avoid his eyes. He turned back to A.A. Catto.

‘What exactly are we supposed to do about it? He could take on all four of us with one hand.’

‘I want you to devise a foolproof method of getting rid of him. You told me how skilled and talented your little friends are. Now is the time to put it to the test.’

The Minstrel Boy moved up beside Billy.

‘What happens if we can’t come up with a scheme to kill him?’

A.A. Catto smiled sweetly at him.

‘Then you lied to me when you were pleading for your life. I shall have to have you killed, all of you.’

Billy’s jaw dropped.

‘All of us? Me and Reave as well?’

‘Of course. You vouched for these people.’

The Minstrel Boy laughed grimly.

‘Looks like we’re all in the same boat.’

‘What do we do about it?’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘Don’t ask me. Those hoods in Litz couldn’t stop him and neither could this bunch. I don’t honestly see what we can do.’

Reave scowled.

‘The only thing that could stop Ho would be a few more like him.’

The Minstrel Boy suddenly grinned. He looked as though the light had dawned.

‘That’s the answer.’

‘What is?’

‘Get some more like him, and let them take him out.’

Billy looked doubtful.

‘How the fuck do we get more like him? Send out to the brotherhood?’

The Minstrel Boy shot the Wanderer a sideways glance.

‘We could get them from Stuff Central.’

The Wanderer raised a bushy eyebrow.

‘You won’t find any brotherhood executives in the stuff catalogue. The best you can get from that would be a De Luxe All Purpose Trooper, and a squad of them would be just as useless as the horsemen.’

‘You could get a custom job.’

The Wanderer shook his head.

‘You’d need specifications.’

The Minstrel Boy grinned pointedly at him.

‘We could get them.’

‘Detailed specs?’

We could get them, couldn’t we, old man?’ The Wanderer held up his hand and quickly shook his head.

‘No. No way. I’m not going to do it.’

The Minstrel Boy stared hard at him.

‘You’re going to have to, otherwise the lady’s going to butcher the lot of us.’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it’

Billy looked from one to the other in bewilderment.

‘What are you two talking about?’

‘Getting us some more like Ho to deal with him.’

‘How do you do that?’

‘We get Stuff Central to do a custom job from our specifications.’

‘How do we get those?’

‘The old man can get them, can’t you, old man?’

The Wanderer didn’t answer. The Minstrel Boy moved closer to him.

‘You can, can’t you, old man?’

The Wanderer looked at the ground. He hesitated and then spoke reluctantly.

‘I can do it. I can form a mind link with Ho, and all the information can be fed out of my brain into the request console of the stuff receiver. Once the data’s in the pattern bank we can have as many replicas of Jeb Stuart Ho as we want. Only they’ll be programmed to do exactly what they’re told.’

A look of relief came over Billy’s face.

‘We’re out of trouble then?’

The Wanderer nodded wearily.

‘Yeah, we’re out of trouble.’

‘What’s wrong?’

The Minstrel Boy grinned nastily.

‘The old man’s not too keen on the mind link bit.’

The Wanderer growled at him.

‘Just get off my back, will you. I said I’d do it.

The Minstrel Boy didn’t stop.

‘The mind link doesn’t go away once it’s started. If Jeb Stuart Ho dies, the Wanderer will experience it too. It could hurt.’

The Wanderer grunted.

‘It will hurt.’

A.A. Catto interrupted any further discussion.

‘What are you all talking about?’

The Minstrel Boy turned to face her.

‘We’ve come up with the answer. We’ll need to use the stuff receiver. Have your men found it yet?’

‘They’ve located it.’

‘We might as well get on with it, then.’

A.A. Catto became suspicious.

‘Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trick?’

‘Of course it ain’t no trick.’

‘How can I be sure of that?’

The Minstrel Boy began to get exasperated.

‘You can’t be sure. You’ll have to trust us. It’s our lives that are on the line. You think we’re going to deliberately fuck up?’

‘I still don’t like it.’

‘You got a better idea?’

A.A. Catto’s face flushed dangerously.

‘Your manners aren’t all they could be.’

The Minstrel Boy had the sense to backpedal.

‘Okay, I’m sorry, but there’s no other way.’

A.A. Catto thought for a moment. She directed her attention to Billy.

‘Have you still got your gun?’

Billy looked round nervously.

‘Yeah … I’ve got it.’

‘Give it to me.’

Billy hesitated. A.A. Catto held out her hand.

‘Give it to me.’

Reluctantly Billy handed it over. A.A. Catto checked that it was loaded, and then pointed it at the four of them.

‘I’ll take you to the receiver room and you can start work. I’ll be watching you all the time. If I see anything I don’t like, I’ll shoot. You understand?’

The Minstrel Boy nodded.

‘We understand.’

A.A. Catto descended from the late Joachim’s throne and led them through a small door at the side of the hall. It was like stepping into another age. The room was filled with gleaming technology. The Minstrel Boy gazed round with what almost amounted to awe.

‘Goddamn! Civilization. I thought I’d never see it again.’

The Wanderer went sullenly to the control console.

‘Let’s get to it.’

The Minstrel Boy immediately assumed control. He took off his coat and tossed it in a corner.

‘First thing we got to do is deactivate the globes,’

The Wanderer sat down in the chair in front of he console. He searched the board for the unit that controlled the globes.

‘Got it.’

‘Can you ground them?’

‘I think so.’

The Wanderer punched a sequence of buttons. A number of coloured lights went out.

‘The globes are dead.’

A.A. Catto stood in the doorway, covering them with the gun. The Minstrel Boy moved up beside the Wanderer, partly to get a better view and partly to put as much of the old man as he could between himself and A.A. Catto. When it came to his own safety, the Minstrel Boy had no scruples.

‘The next thing we have to do is to order up a direct data helmet.’

The Wanderer inspected the board.

‘That won’t be so easy. There’s a selector block hooked into this rig.’

‘Can you switch it off?’

The Wanderer shook his head.

‘Negative. There’s a lock on it.’

‘I’ll have to short it out.’

The Minstrel Boy pulled out one of his knives, and squatted on the floor. He prised open one of the inspection panels in the front of the console. He was just about to put his hand inside when A.A. Catto took a step forward.

‘What are you doing?’

The Minstrel Boy found himself looking down the barrel of her gun. He straightened up.

‘There’s a block on the controls that stops anyone ordering things that didn’t fit in with Joachim’s and Alamada’s ideas of the simple life. If we want anything but nuts, berries and new horsemen, I have to fix some kind of bypass. Okay? Can I go on with what I’m doing?’

A.A. Catto still looked doubtful.

‘Are you sure you know what you are doing?’

The Minstrel Boy became impatient.

‘Listen, lady, I’ve been hot-wiring receivers since I was a little kid. Just let me get on with it.’

A. A, Catto backed away, and the Minstrel Boy crawled half inside the console. After a couple of minutes he emerged grinning.

‘That should do it. Order up that helmet.’

The Wanderer stabbed at the buttons. Rows of lights flickered into life. There was a faint hum from the cage that actually received the ordered goods. After about a minute, the cage flickered briefly with cold light and a white plastic hemisphere appeared. A number of coiled leads were attached to it, and an instruction booklet lay beside it on the floor of the cage. Billy reached in and lifted it out. A.A. Catto looked at the helmet questioningly.

‘What is that thing?’

‘It’s a direct data helmet. It’s a device that enables the old man to relay the specifications on Ho without having to verbalize them and then translate them into a selection sequence.’

He fitted the helmet on to the Wanderer’s head, although he left the leads unattached and dangling. He slapped the old man on the shoulder.

‘Okay buddy. Find our man.’

The Wanderer sighed and shut his eyes. The Minstrel Boy motioned to Billy and Reave.

‘You two better hold his arms down on the chair. He’s liable to thrash about a bit while he’s making contact.’

Billy and Reave did as they were instructed. The Wanderer began to twitch slightly, and sweat stood out on his forehead. The twitching gradually built up until his body was racked by violent convulsive jerks. Billy and Reave had to use all their strength to hold him down. Suddenly his muscles seemed to lock in one huge spasm. His back arched and sweat poured down his face. Then it passed. The Wanderer collapsed back in the chair. His mouth opened and closed. He licked his lips.

‘I’ve got him.’

His voice was a strained croak. The Minstrel Boy grabbed the ends of the helmet leads and banged them into input sockets on the control board.

‘Feed the data, old man.’

The lights on the console began to blink rapidly.

The Minstrel Boy picked up his coat.

‘We should have something down the beam quite soon.’

Billy and Reave stepped away from the Wanderer. He was quite passive now. Billy glanced at the Minstrel Boy.

‘Won’t Ho notice the mind link?’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘He’ll probably feel a bit strange, but the odds are that he won’t realize what’s happening.’

‘How long do we have to wait before the first of the replicas comes through?’

‘Shouldn’t take Stuff Central more than a few minutes to tailor up the first one.’

The Minstrel Boy removed the helmet from the Wanderer. The old man seemed totally drained. If it hadn’t been for his shallow breathing, Billy would have assumed he was dead.

They waited. The waiting was almost intolerable. Billy was constantly aware of A.A. Catto standing in the doorway holding the gun. He wondered if she’d keep her bargain and let them live once she had what she wanted. She was just as likely to kill them all.

For a while it seemed as though nothing was going to happen, then the cage glowed and Jeb Stuart Ho materialized inside it. The likeness was so complete that Billy and Reave started to back away. A.A. Catto raised her gun. Only the Minstrel Boy held his ground. He turned to A.A. Catto and laughed.

‘Come and talk to your new subject.’

He turned to the Ho replica.

‘Are you willing to accept our orders?’

The Ho replica bowed.

‘Of course. That is my programming.’

‘There you are, Miss Catto. He’s all yours.’

The Minstrel Boy moved to the console.

‘How many of these do you want to start with?’

‘Six should be enough. But leave the selection set up. I will certainly want more.’

The Minstrel Boy punched more buttons, and more Ho replicas began to arrive down the stuff beam in quick succession. Billy noticed that they carried all Jeb Stuart Ho’s equipment including the pistol and porta-pac. A.A. Catto was like a child with a new toy. She ran her hands over the fabric of their black fighting suits.

‘They’re lovely.’

She seemed to have forgotten all about her threats to kill the four men. She moved from one Ho replica to the next with an expression of delight. While her attention was diverted, the Wanderer opened his eyes, and rose slowly from the chair. He moved silently towards the door and quickly slipped away. A.A. Catto didn’t seem to notice his absence. She beamed at the six Ho replicas.

‘All we have to do now is send them after the assassin. He doesn’t have a chance against six exact copies of himself.’

***

Jeb Stuart Ho slowly rose from his crouching position on the hillside above the ziggurat. For a while a strange sickness had gripped him, but it seemed to have passed. It disturbed him in so far as he could find no logical reason for it. He flexed his cramped muscles. He had wasted enough time. He must start for the ziggurat and complete his task. He could see no way apart from going directly to the ziggurat, finding A.A. Catto and killing her. There was no room for subtleties.

It was dark, and therefore the approach to the ziggurat would be comparatively simple. Once inside, his main problem would be to avoid the horsemen. He knew that they wouldn’t be able to stop him, but if he was forced to fight with a number of them, he could be delayed for long enough to give A.A. Catto time to flee. That was what had happened in Litz, and he didn’t intend it to happen here.

He started down the slope towards the black building. He moved slowly and carefully, making no sound. He stopped every now and then to listen for the noise of any patrol that might be moving around. He had only gone about halfway when he saw lights emerge from one of the ground-level entrances and start to move up the hillside. Jeb Stuart Ho sank down on to the grass and watched them come towards him. After a while, he could make out details. There were six men, in form-fitting black suits. They carried burning torches and appeared to be searching the ground for something.

Jeb Stuart Ho held his position and let the six men come nearer. As he was able to see them more clearly he could scarcely believe his eyes. In front of him were six of his brother executives in black fighting suits and carrying full equipment. He couldn’t understand how they had arrived in Quahal, or how they had managed to keep the guns and porta-pacs that hung from their belts. They were a mysterious but welcome sight. Seven of the brotherhood would have no trouble dispatching A.A. Catto. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then stood up.

‘My brothers?’

The torches were instantly extinguished. Jeb Stuart Ho was surprised. It wasn’t the reaction he had expected.

‘My brothers. It is Jeb Stuart Ho.’

There was silence, then a whisper floated across the hillside. It was very clear.

‘That is him. That is the subject.’

A shot rang out, and a bullet hummed close to Jeb Stuart Ho. Someone had obviously fired in the direction of the sound of his voice. He started backing away. His mind whirled. He couldn’t understand it. Who were these people? Could A.A. Catto have enlisted the aid of some kind of renegades from the brotherhood? Did such people exist? In the dim skyshine he could see the six figures fanning out and moving up towards him. He quickly retreated.

The sky over the mountain was growing lighter, as though an artificial moon was about to rise. Jeb Stuart Ho knew that if that happened he would present an easy target. He knew that if these men had similar fighting skills to his, he couldn’t survive a direct confrontation.

The mist seemed to be his best bet. Once inside its concealing folds he could evade these hunters, or even, if he was lucky, pick them off one by one in sneak attacks. He turned on his heel and started to run. Another shot buzzed over his head. He fell into the unique pattern of yogic running that had been perfected by the teachers of the brotherhood. It enabled him to move at speeds far in excess of anything ordinary untrained humans were capable of.

A thin crescent of moon edged over the mountain. Jeb Stuart Ho glanced back as he ran. The pursuers were behind him, but they seemed to be keeping pace. They obviously had the same training. He reached the edge of the layer of mist and plunged into it. He saw an outcrop of rocks and ran towards them. It seemed an ideal vantage point to watch for the arrival of his hunters. He threw himself down behind the rocks, controlled his breathing, and lay still. He watched and waited.

The six came cautiously through the mist with swords and pistols in their hands. Five went straight past him, some distance to his right, and were swallowed up by the mist. The sixth was moving in a direction that would bring him right by the rocks where Jeb Stuart Ho lay. He silently drew his sword, and pressed himself flat on the ground. The man was just on the other side of the rocks. Jeb Stuart Ho waited for the right moment. His adversary came round the rocks. Jeb Stuart Ho struck. The sword went up through the man’s stomach and into his lung. He died without a sound.

The body had fallen face down. Jeb Stuart Ho bent over it to remove the porta-pac and the gun. He rolled it over. Even in the darkness there could be no mistake. He found himself looking at his own face. The shock was immense. For a moment his mind was jolted off balance. Then he got a grip on himself. Somehow, A.A. Catto had managed to duplicate him. He knew it was possible, but he didn’t know how it had been accomplished. He examined the corpse’s arm. There was even a wound exactly like the one he’d received in the Leader Hotel. He realized that he was fighting six identical versions of himself.

An idea struck him. The very fact that he and his hunters were identical gave him a chance to outwit them, and complete his mission. He quickly stripped the body of its gun, its porta-pac and its nanchuk. He replaced the throwing knives that he had lost. When he had a full complement of equipment, he stood up. It would now be impossible for anyone to tell whether he was the real Jeb Stuart Ho that was being hunted, or one of the Ho replicas who were doing the hunting. He walked swiftly into the mist, looking for the other duplicates.

He didn’t have to search for long. He’d only been walking for a short while when he heard voices. He moved towards them. Three of the Ho replicas had gathered together and were debating their next move like novices on a training exercise. As Jeb Stuart Ho walked out of the mist, they swung round and trained their guns on him. Then they saw his own gun and porta-pac, and they relaxed. Jeb Stuart Ho looked from one to the other.

‘You have failed to find him?’

He had to fight to control his voice. Being face to face with three of himself was still a powerful shock. The replicas shook their heads.

‘He has obviously gone to ground in the mist.’

‘It is the logical answer.’

‘Should we spread our search?’

Jeb Stuart Ho took a chance.

‘We could return to the ziggurat, and resume our search at daybreak. Our task would be made easy if we had horsemen to act as beaters.’

None of the three seemed to find anything wrong with his suggestion. Jeb Stuart Ho knew it was sound. He also knew that the replicas’ thought patterns were exactly like his. If they went back to the ziggurat they would almost certainly report to A.A. Catto. That would give him the chance to kill her. He looked around for comment on his suggestion.

‘We should wait for the other two to find us. Then we can decide.’

‘One of them may already have completed the task.’

Ho nodded.

‘That is possible.’

Another replica appeared out of the mist.

‘Have you found Ho?’

The replica shook his head.

‘He must have moved further up the mountain.’

‘We were debating whether to return to the ziggurat or spread the search.’

‘We decided to wait until we were all assembled.’

The newcomer nodded.

‘There is only one of us to come.’

They stood in silence. The wait, however, wasn’t all that long. After only a few minutes, the sixth Ho replica appeared out of the mist. He was dragging a black-clad body behind him. Jeb Stuart Ho’s stomach turned over. He had been counting on the Ho replicas not finding the body. From now on, he would have to improvise. He quickly made the first move.

‘You’ve killed him.’

The replica shook his head.

‘I didn’t kill him. I just found the body.’

‘Then who did kill him?’

The replicas all looked at each other. Jeb Stuart Ho knew that they were all thinking in the same way, and that they’d quickly come to the same conclusion.

‘Nobody here admits to killing him?’

‘How did he die?’

‘He was killed by a single sword thrust.’

‘If none of us claims to have killed him, perhaps he committed suicide.’

‘That seems unlikely.’

‘We must assume that he is one of us, and not the subject. He must have been killed by Ho.’

‘Then one of the six of us is Ho.’

The six men looked carefully at each other. Jeb Stuart Ho voiced what they were all thinking.

‘We have no way of telling which of us is the subject.’

‘We cannot now return to the ziggurat under any circumstances. If we did that, it would give the one which is Ho the ideal opportunity to complete his own task and kill A.A. Catto. We cannot take that risk.’

‘So what is the answer to our problem?’

The answer came to Jeb Stuart Ho in an ugly flash. The six men were standing in a rough circle. The man standing opposite Ho put it into words.

‘The only effective way in which we can be certain to discharge our task is to …’

He hesitated. The others joined in with his final words.

‘… destroy each other.’

As the words were spoken there was a flurry of movement. Jeb Stuart Ho made his last possible move. He threw himself flat on the ground. Simultaneously there was a crash of gunfire. He looked up, surprised to be still alive. Four of the replicas lay dead. The man standing opposite him, however, was slowly getting to his feet. Jeb Stuart Ho sprang up, ‘We have both survived.’

‘We both decided to duck instead of fire.’

The two men faced each other. Their hands hovered over their holstered guns.

‘Why is it we didn’t think like the others?’

‘There is bound to be some variation in our thinking.’

‘That’s true.’

The replica looked hard at Ho.

‘The probability is that one of us is the subject. One of us is Ho.’

Ho watched the replica’s gun hand carefully. It was uncanny, facing and trying to outwit himself. He wasn’t even sure if it was possible.

‘It could be that neither of us is Ho.’

‘Less probable, though.’

‘Is it?’

The replica nodded.

‘The majority would wipe each other out, as we have seen. The subject would seek to preserve himself, if at all possible, in order to complete his task.’

Ho anticipated the next proposition.

‘One of the six might realize this and also attempt to preserve himself to prevent the subject escaping in this way.’

Ho smiled grimly.

‘Then you are the subject.’

‘I know I am not the subject.’

Their hands moved to their guns almost as one. The two .90 magnums exploded together. Jeb Stuart Ho felt the big bullet rip into him. The replica spun round and fell face downwards. Ho tottered backwards, swayed for a few moments, and crumpled to the ground.

***

A.A. Catto was celebrating. There had been an unbearable tension after gunfire had been heard at the ziggurat. A party of horsemen had been sent out to investigate. To Billy and the others, waiting for the horsemen to return was like being on the rack. Before the gunfire had been reported things had been difficult, but A.A. Catto had been preoccupied with ordering up dozens more Ho replicas and watching them troop out of the receiver.

Once the horsemen had been dispatched, she had returned to the throne, and sat drumming her nails on one of the arms. Billy knew that if they’d returned with an adverse report, A.A. Catto would undoubtedly have him, Reave and the Minstrel Boy killed. The Wanderer had wisely vanished.

The news had been good, however. The horsemen had found seven black-clad bodies on the hillside. Jeb Stuart Ho was dead. A.A. Catto was off the hook. She hugged Nancy, and the party began.

It was the strangest celebration Billy had ever seen. A.A. Catto went mad on the stuff receiver. A vast range of drinks, drugs, delicacies and entertainment poured from the receiver room. She ordered dancers, jugglers, dwarfs, plus the full range of exotic sexual types that could be found in the catalogue. She had also ordered a hundred or more extra Ho replicas. She seemed to be busily building herself an army. Once things had been arranged the way she wanted, A.A. Catto withdrew to her throne, from where she could survey the strange mixture of wild horsemen, black-clad assassins and spangled freaks.

A.A. Catto had, somewhere along the line, divested herself of her clothes. She sprawled naked across the cushions of the throne. Nancy sat at her feet, leaning against one of A.A. Catto’s legs, absently caressing the inside of her knee. Nancy was totally out on duramene. A tiny tattooed hermaphrodite perched on one of the arms of the throne, massaging A.A. Catto’s body. A pink chubby little boy in a toga and gold laurel wreath stood on the other side of the throne with a fistful of pressure injectors clutched in his fat hand. He’d bang a dose into her outstretched arm every time she snapped her fingers.

The effect of the sudden intake of stimulants and depressives on the horsemen and Ho replicas was the most startling feature of the whole event. Most were in a state of physical shock. Their systems were totally unused to such massive abuse, but A.A. Catto insisted that they all did what she did.

It affected them in a lot of different ways, as the drugs fought with their programming. A lot of the Ho substitutes who’d been filled with duramene and other uppers, simply became rigid and stood at muscle-cracking attention, like statues scattered round the room. Others, who had had a preponderance of downers, were slumped on the floor unconscious. Some had gone into comas and a few sat crosslegged and recited incomprehensible mathematic progressions.

The horsemen were more of a problem. For some reason, they seemed to have particularly homed in on the booze and downers. Many had collapsed, but the remainder blundered about shaking their heads. Now and then one of them would chop down one of the glittering pleasure mutants with an off-hand knife blow. Now and then, one of them would stumble into a Ho replica and try to start a fight. The Ho replica invariably cut down the horseman with an air of precise fastidiousness.

The various freaks, although programmed to participate in some bizarre entertainments, were unable to handle the situation. They were confused and terrified. A few cracked. A dwarf rushed at the legs of a bunch of horsemen and started beating at them with his tiny fists. He was rapidly kicked to death for his impudence. The majority, however, simply clustered together in groups, moving round the throne room like panicky sheep, trying to avoid the violence. The floor was rapidly becoming littered with bodies, and slippery with blood.

Billy, Reave and the Minstrel Boy stayed firmly in a quiet corner between the throne and the receiver room. They were out of danger, for the moment, as far as A. A, Catto was concerned. They still had the problem of avoiding mutilation at the hands of her out-of-control warriors. This required so much concentration that even the Minstrel Boy left the vast selection of stimulants, for the most part, alone.

Somewhere in A.A. Catto’s whirling brain an idea hatched. She sat up, pushed the hermaphrodite out of the way and shook Nancy by the shoulder.

‘Nancy!’

Nancy opened one eye.

‘Huh?’

‘Nancy, it’s come to me.’

Nancy blinked.

‘What?’

‘It’s come to me, the whole purpose of my life,’

‘No shit?’

A.A. Catto pouted.

‘Don’t talk to me like that. It’s unkind.’

Nancy sat up quickly.

‘I’m sorry, what’s this that’s come to you?’

A look of bliss came over A.A. Catto’s face.

‘I’m going to rule everything. It’s my destiny.’

Nancy shook her head to clear it.

‘Huh?’

A.A. Catto wasn’t pleased that Nancy didn’t immediately join in her enthusiasm.

‘I’m going to rule everything.’

‘You’re going to rule everything?’

‘Quahal is only a start. I am destined for much greater glory.’

Nancy nodded.

‘Yeah, glory.’

‘I have new men that I invented.’

Nancy glanced up at her in surprise.

‘I was under the impression that the Wanderer, if anybody, invented them.’

A.A. Catto swayed a little as she waved away the suggestion.

‘That’s beside the point. They’re mine, and with them I can conquer everything.’

She started to wax eloquent. Her voice rose a little and her eyes turned upwards.

‘Imagine, just imagine. My warriors suddenly pouring out of the nothings. Swooping down on defenceless towns and cities. Overrunning them and enslaving the population. Can you picture it, Nancy, the power and grandeur of it, our choice of everything we wanted? We could have anything. That’s why they wanted to kill me. They were afraid. They suspected what I was going to do before I even knew it myself. They didn’t manage it, though. They failed. They can’t destroy me. I’m destined to succeed. It’ll be a jihad, a crusade, a holy war to the greater glory of me!’

At the end of the speech A.A. Catto’s voice had risen to something near a shriek. Nancy looked at her in wonder and awe.

‘I’ll say one thing for you. You don’t fuck around.’

Billy, who had caught part of the outburst, slid up close to the Minstrel Boy and nudged him.

‘We got to get the hell out of here.’

‘Don’t I know it.’

‘I mean now.’

‘How?’

Billy looked around.

‘We could nick a couple of porta-pacs from unconscious Ho replicas, and just walk away.’

‘Walk through the nothings?’

‘I’ve done it before.’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

‘Not here, you haven’t.’

‘It’s not possible?’

‘This isn’t the inner ring. You can trot off into the nothings there and be sure of landing somewhere while you’re still sane. Out here you can’t. If we tried walking from Quahal, I’d go mad even if you wouldn’t.’

‘So what do we do? We can’t take delivery of a ground car in a place the size of the receiver room.’

The Minstrel Boy thought about it.

‘We could probably get something smaller.’

‘Yeah? What?’

‘Air scooters.’

‘Air scooters?’

The Minstrel Boy grinned.

‘Yeah. Air scooters. Listen, you and Reave gather up three porta-pacs and come to the receiver room. I’ll go there now and make the order.’

Billy and Reave moved cautiously to the nearest unconscious Ho replicas, and unclipped three porta-pacs from their belts. They also took the guns from their holsters. Then they headed for the receiver room doing their best to look unconcerned.

When they got there, the room was empty apart from the Minstrel Boy sitting at the control board. Two of the air scooters had arrived, and as they watched a third one materialized in the cage. The air scooters were shaped like an egg that had been sliced in half lengthways. The flat side rested on the ground. When the engine was cut in, the machine floated on a cushion of air some fifteen centimetres thick. It moved by two propulsion vents at the back, and was braked by a similar vent on the front. A saddle and control bars were mounted on top. The Minstrel Boy had chosen models finished in red metal-flake. He had not had time to order any accessories, although the catalogue did contain a whole range. The Minstrel Boy threw his leg over the first one and turned the power unit to idle. The scooter rose on its air cushion. He gestured to the other two to get on their machines.

‘Here’s what we do. I’ll go through the door first. We take it nice and slow. Sashay around, and knock over a few freaks. We’ll clown it up. A.A. Catto will think it’s some kind of joke. Keep edging towards the door, then, at a signal from me, open the scooters right up, and go. We should take them by surprise. Okay?’

Billy and Reave nodded. The Minstrel Boy turned the twist grip on the control bars very gently and edged his way through the door. He waltzed out on to the dance floor. Billy and Reave did the same. A.A. Catto looked up from her conversation with Nancy. She laughed and clapped her hands as Billy spun his machine round and bowled over a whole group of freaks. They gradually made their way down the hall. When they were about halfway to the doors, the Minstrel Boy looked round and yelled.

‘Now!’

He twisted the powerfeed wide open, and sped towards the door. Billy and Reave followed him. As they raced away, A.A. Catto’s expression changed from delight to fury. She sprang to her feet, knocking over the child who’d been feeding her drugs.

‘Stop them.’

The Minstrel Boy slammed into the doors and they burst open. Billy and Reave sped through behind him. They hit the stairs and fought to control the scooters as they careened down the uneven surface. All three of them reached the bottom still upright and they hummed down the corridor. Some of the Ho replicas arrived at the head of the stairs and started shooting. Bullets screamed off the black stone walls of the corridor, then they made a right-angle turn and were temporarily out of danger.

They kept going at full speed, flashing along corridors and bucketing dangerously down flights of steps. The interior of the ziggurat appeared to be deserted, and they met no opposition. They eventually emerged on to one of the lower external levels. A grey dawn was creeping over the horizon. Further along the level, a long steep ramp led down all the way to the ground. They headed for it. There was still no sign of pursuit. Billy grinned back at Reave, who was slightly behind him.

‘Looks like we got away.’

Reave gave Billy the thumbs-up sign. The Minstrel Boy turned down the ramp. Billy and Reave followed him. They were almost at the bottom of the ramp when a squad of Ho replicas came storming out of one of the ground-level entrances. They raced towards the foot of the ramp. The Minstrel Boy got there before they did. He spun his scooter round and raced away in the opposite direction.

Billy and Reave hit the end of the ramp at the same time as the Ho replicas. They were going too fast to be stopped. The Ho replicas leaped out of the way as the two scooters ploughed through them. Billy and Reave gave their machines full power and attempted to catch up with the Minstrel Boy.

The Ho replicas were instantly back on their feet. They pulled out their guns and started firing after the three escapers. A heavy .90 calibre slug smashed into the back fairing of Billy’s scooter. He struggled to stop the machine turning over. As soon as he’d regained control, Billy glanced back to see if Reave was all right. He was just in time to see Reave’s scooter spinning riderless towards the fields. Reave was sprawled on the path. Billy braked hard. A bullet hummed over his head. The Minstrel Boy swung round and yelled.

‘Keep going!’

‘But Reave …’

‘He’s dead. Get the hell out before you are too.’

Billy took a last look at Reave. The Minstrel Boy was right, the body lay quite still. Another bullet slammed into the body of the scooter. Billy twisted the power control wide open and took off after the Minstrel Boy. The Ho replicas came after them at an incredible high-speed run. The Minstrel Boy waved frantically towards the river.

‘Hit the water, we’ll be able to move faster.’

They swerved across the fields and headed straight for the river. Bullets threw up chunks of earth beside them. They bumped down the bank, and hit the water in a shower of spray. The scooters quickly picked up speed on the smooth surface of the slow-moving river. The speedometer on Billy’s machine went clear off the end of the scale. Each time either of them hit a patch of ripples the two scooters bounced into the air.

At last they got out of range of the Ho replicas and their guns. Ahead of them, the river started to break up into patches of grey nothing. Billy put a hand to his belt and turned on the porta-pac. The Minstrel Boy did the same. He turned and grinned at Billy.

‘We did it! We got away!’

Billy nodded wearily.

‘Yeah … we got away.’

***

Jeb Stuart Ho moved from oblivion to a world of pain. He groaned. He had never imagined that dying would take so much effort. The whole of his side felt as if it was on fire. He seemed to be suffering from hallucinations. He had the sensation of someone mopping the sweat from his forehead. The illusion was strangely comforting. He prepared himself for the end, then a voice spoke beside him.

‘You’ve come round, then?’

Jeb Stuart Ho tried to raise his head but the pain proved too much for him. He tried to speak, but all that came was a groan. The voice spoke again.

‘You’re hurting. I’ll give you a shot. You’ll feel better in a while.’

The hallucination was very strange. Ho imagined something pressing against his arm. There was a soft hissing sound. The pain began to diminish. A feeling of euphoria spread through his body. He wondered if it was the approach of death. He tried to open his eyes for the last time. He found himself looking into the bearded face of the Wanderer.

‘Why are you part of this dream?’

The Wanderer smiled sadly.

‘This is no dream. You’re alive.’

‘I will die soon.’

‘You won’t. You’re in bad shape, but I’ve filled you up with all the drugs I could steal from the ziggurat. I’ve patched up the bullet wound as best I can. I figure you’ll pull through okay. There is one thing though, we’re going to have to get out of here. A.A. Catto thinks you’re dead right now, but we ought to move along before she finds out.’

Jeb Stuart Ho attempted to sit up. The pain had gone but he felt sick and dizzy.

‘I can’t leave while I still live.’

‘Your task?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘I’d forget it if I were you. The events you were sent out to prevent have happened. Whatever you were supposed to stop is rolling. It’s in motion. Taking out A.A. Catto won’t make much difference now. You’ve failed.’

‘You seem to know a great deal about my task.’

‘I’ve been in mind link with you.’

Is that how the replicas were produced?’

The Wanderer nodded.

‘That’s right.’

He avoided Jeb Stuart Ho’s eyes. There was a long pause. Finally the Wanderer coughed and began to talk very quickly.

‘Listen, I’ll give you another shot, and you’ll probably be able to move. We’ve got to get out of here before A.A. Catto thinks of having the bodies picked up. I’ll give you the shot, okay?’

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

‘I cannot leave.’

‘Why the fuck not?’

‘I have failed in my task.’

‘So?’

‘I must now die. I cannot return to the temple with the burden of failure.’

‘You’re maybe going to have to.’

‘I don’t understand.’

The Wanderer took a deep breath.

‘You failed, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘So whatever A.A. Catto’s disastrous effect on the universe proves to be, it’s already underway.’

‘That seems logical.’

‘And the brotherhood will have revised all their schemes for dealing with her.’

Jeb Stuart Ho’s face became set.

‘The fact remains that I have failed in my task. I see no alternative but to commit myself to a ritual death.’

The Wanderer smiled.

‘You can’t do that. If you did it would actually compound your failure to the brotherhood.’

‘I do not follow the reasoning behind that.’

The Wanderer started to show signs of strain.

‘We both agree that since you didn’t take out A.A. Catto in time to stop the progression being set in motion that will end in disaster, the brotherhood will have to take even more positive measures to combat her.’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded sadly.

‘I am responsible for that, and therefore my only course of action is to atone by committing myself to the death ritual. I don’t see how I can delay any longer.’

Jeb Stuart Ho struggled into a sitting position. He weakly tugged his sword from its sheath and laid it in front of him. He looked up at the Wanderer.

‘I would appreciate it if you would leave me. I must do this on my own.’

The Wanderer stood up and folded his arms.

‘But you can’t do it. Not even by your own ethic.’

Jeb Stuart Ho began to become impatient.

‘Why not?’

‘Because if the brotherhood are to fight A.A. Catto, they need you.’

‘I don’t see why.’

‘Because, of the whole order, you have more hard information about A.A. Catto than anyone else. It is your duty to return with that information.’

Jeb Stuart Ho thought it over.

‘I can find no flaws in the argument.’

‘There aren’t any.’

He looked down at his sword.

‘I am not free to put myself to death.’

He seemed almost disappointed. The Wanderer knelt down and gave him another shot.

‘Put your sword away and try to stand. We have to get away.’

Jeb Stuart Ho got painfully to his feet. He stood swaying. The Wanderer put his arm round him and supported his weight. Slowly they began to move, limping away into the too perfect, artificial dawn of Quahal.