The Sky Lords

Chapter Sixteen

Jan leaned over Prince Caspar and playfully tickled his bare chest with a lock of her now long hair. “Come on, my Lord and master, time for you to get up.”

Keeping his eyes closed Caspar brushed the hair away. “Why should I get up? It’s too early,” he groaned.

“Have you forgotten again? It’s another Duty Day for you in the control room. We’re due to arrive at Bandala in a few hours.”

“Oh shit,” he muttered. Then, “I don’t care. What does it matter if I turn up or not. Gorman is really in charge down there.”

That’s true, thought Jan, though she was surprised to hear Caspar actually admit it. But he probably didn’t believe this deep down—his self-deprecating words had just been for effect. “Nonsense, my Lord,” she told him, running a caressing hand over his chest. “You are indispensable in the control room and you know it. Gorman and his engineers are but clever hands ruled by your noble head.”

He opened his eyes. She never tired of looking into his eyes. “Flatterer,” he told her. But he didn’t sound displeased. Flattery always works, Milo had once told her. The human ego has no emotional defence against it even when the rational part of the mind recognizes it for what it is.

Jan kissed him on the mouth. “I speak the truth and you know it, my Lord.” Caspar responded by putting his arms around her and hugging her tightly to him. Then he rolled them both over on the bed until she was pinned beneath him. “Again … already?” she gasped.

“It’s your fault,” he said hoarsely as he entered her. “It’s that amazon smell of yours … It excites me so.”

When Caspar was finished he rolled on to his back again and was silent for awhile. Then he said, “You’ll accompany me to the control room today?”

“Of course I will, my Lord.”

“You like visiting the control room, don’t you?” He opened his eyes and looked at her.

Jan was instantly wary. “Yes, sire. I told you—I find it very interesting.”

“Women don’t find such things interesting. Machinery and the like. What’s your real reason?”

She felt a flicker of panic. Had he somehow divined the truth? Had some action of hers made him suspicious? Trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice she said, “What do you think my real reason is, my Lord?”

He gave a knowing smile. “You are having an affair with one of the engineers. They are rugged, muscular men—the sort that an amazon probably finds very attractive. Tell me which one it is. Is it Gorman himself?”

She relaxed, but not completely. “There is only one man in my life, my Lord, and that is you. I swear it. How could there possibly be room in my life for any other man when you fill it so completely?”

Caspar looked thoughtfully at her, then nodded. He believed her, but he was still puzzled. “Then what attracts you to that dreary place?”

“I told you, my Lord. I find it interesting. I’m an amazon, remember, sire, and not like normal women.”

Slowly his puzzled expression cleared. He accepted this explanation. Idiot, she thought. He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled at her. “It is because you are not like normal women that I have kept you as my exclusive companion for so long,” he told her.

Jan knew that was true too. As Milo had said, she had a novelty value for the Aristos. But how much longer would the situation last? It had been nearly six months since she had been with Prince Caspar and his mother and she knew that, for all her ‘amazon’ novelty, Caspar would sooner or later tire of her. Lady Jane was certainly showing signs of boredom. Only small signs so far, true, but it was only a matter of time.

From that first night when she dined with Prince Caspar and Lady Jane in their private quarters Jan had realized that both son and mother had an equal sexual interest in her, but whereas Caspar was quite open about it Lady Jane was being more subtle. Jan correctly deduced that any relationship she had with the mother would have to be kept from the son.

When she’d told Milo the situation he had calmly suggested that she sleep with both of them. “Exploit the situation as much as you can. From what you tell me Lady Jane is the power behind the throne. She will be as valuable to us as the Prince.”

“You’re asking me to prostitute myself for you,” she said bitterly.

“No, whatever you do will be for yourself as well. I’ve told you what the prize will be if I succeed in my aims.”

“If you’re telling me the truth.”

“You have no choice but to believe me, Jan. I’m your only hope.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she told him disdainfully. But to herself she had to admit it was true; he was. But whatever slim hope he offered was getting slimmer all the time. Despite her many ‘games’ on the keyboard of the device that the Engineers said was a useless relic but which Milo believed held the key to his scheme, she seemed to be no closer to achieving what he wanted. Nor did it help that he wouldn’t confide in her what his scheme actually entailed. “It’s best you don’t know, little amazon. For your own sake. Just in case you let something slip during a session of pillow-talk with their Royal Highnesses.”

She had protested that she would never do such a thing but it was to no avail. He would tell her nothing more.

Prince Caspar got out of bed, stretched languorously, then admired his naked reflection in the full-length mirror. Jan admired it too; he had a beautiful body. If only, she mused, he wasn’t so hopeless in bed with it. If only he had a fraction of the love-making skills possessed by his mother. But then Lady Jane was much older—over a hundred, she’d admitted—and naturally was much more experienced.

He went into the bathroom. Jan hoped it might be one of those rare days when he would actually take a bath but she knew that was unlikely. Water was plentiful in the Aristo part of the airship but they didn’t take advantage of it, preferring to soak themselves, and their clothes, with sickly-sweet scents.

Jan got up too and looked at her own reflection in the mirror. Unlike Caspar she didn’t like what she saw. I’m getting soft, she thought. No, she had become soft. Not fat, just soft. Her muscles had smoothed out and the flesh of her torso, arms and legs had become featureless and bland. And pale. No wonder Lady Jane was losing interest in her. That wild—even dangerous—looking ‘amazon’ that the jaded Lady Jane had found so sexually titillating six months ago had practically vanished.

When Jan had finally learnt the meaning of the word amazon—it had been Ceri who’d told her—she’d been vaguely amused but not offended. She didn’t mind that Minervans were compared with a mythical tribe of ferocious women warriors, even if the comparison was meant derisively.

Caspar emerged from the bathroom wearing his favourite robe. It was made of black fur, the hide of which hadn’t been properly cured and its underlying pungent odour could be easily detected through the perfume. “I’ll be leaving for the control room directly after breakfast. Be ready by then if you want to come with me.”

“I will be, my Lord,” she told him and picked up her own robe from the foot of the bed. She was just putting it on when he opened the door to admit Dalwyn, Caspar’s personal manservant and bodyguard who had been on duty outside Jan’s bedroom all night. Dalwyn was a big, good-looking man who seemed utterly devoted to Prince Caspar. He made it clear to Jan he resented her relationship with the Prince and though she went out of her way to be pleasant to him he was openly hostile to her. This morning was no exception. Her smile and friendly greeting to him drew nothing but a surly glare. As usual Prince Caspar pretended not to notice.

She sighed when the door had closed behind them both and glanced at the clock on the wall. It would be an hour before he finished having breakfast with Lady Jane. No need to rush. She sat on the bed and pressed a button on the bedside table. Ceri appeared almost immediately. Persuading Prince Caspar to make Ceri her personal servant was, in Jan’s opinion, her most positive achievement since becoming the Prince’s lover. Neither Mary Anne nor Prince Magid had been pleased with this development but they had to bow to Caspar’s will.

Jan motioned Ceri to be seated in one of the bedroom’s armchairs and said, “I’m exhausted.”

“Another job well done?” asked Ceri dryly.

“I think I can safely claim that,” Jan said. “Mother God, he has incredible sexual stamina. It’s a pity he’s so useless at making love.”

Ceri studied her for a while then said hesitantly, “May I ask you a personal question?”

“You, of all people, should know you can ask me anything you want,” Jan told her with a smile. “What do you want to know?”

“How … how do you feel when you make love to the Prince?” Ceri asked her seriously.

“How do I feel?” Jan raised her eyebrows. “Do you mean do I enjoy it?”

“Well … yes.”

She shrugged. “Well, yes, I do get some physical pleasure from him, in spite of his incompetence.”

“And in spite of him being a man?”

Jan gave Ceri a sly smile. “You want to know how I, a Minervan, can bear to make love to a man, yes? But I’ve told you before, I’m sure, that Minervan women didn’t sleep exclusively with women. In fact younger women like myself were actively encouraged to experiment with men so that we would be familiar with the experience when the time of breeding came.”

Ceri frowned. “Yes, but basically you prefer sleeping with women, don’t you? I mean, surely you get more satisfaction from Lady Jane …?”

“Well, yes. But that’s mainly because she’s much more sexually skilful than Caspar, not just because she’s a woman. But I get no real emotional satisfaction from either of them. Yes, I find both of them attractive, despite of who they are and what they are—but I shut that out of my mind when I’m with them—but I have no love for them. It’s you I love, Ceri.”

Ceri winced. “I thought we’d agreed not to discuss that again.”

“You brought up the subject of my sexual preferences, not me,” said Jan. Since that one night, the day of her presentation at court, Ceri hadn’t slept with her again. She had made it clear that their love-making on that occasion had been a one-off event. It had been a special act of friendship but, given her freedom of choice, Ceri preferred not to sleep with women. She allowed Jan physical contact with her—hugs, even kisses—but nothing more. And Jan had been in an agony of frustration ever since. “I wish you’d reconsider, Ceri,” pleaded Jan. “If people love each other it doesn’t matter what sex they are. And I do love you!”

Ceri looked uncomfortable. “Please, Jan, don’t talk this way. You don’t really love me. It’s just because I’m the first real friend you’ve had since coming on board the Lord Pangloth. And because you’re a Minervan, and young. You’re infatuated, that’s all, but it’s not real love.”

“I think I’m the best judge of my own emotions,” Jan told her firmly.

“No one is the best judge of their own emotions,” said Ceri.

Jan made a groaning sound. “That’s the sort of thing Milo would say.”

As usual Ceri scowled at the mention of Milo’s name. “If you did love me you’d heed my advice about that creature…. ”

“Don’t change the subject,” said Jan quickly. She was only too well aware of how Ceri felt about Milo. She remembered the time when she’d recounted Milo’s story to her. Ceri had been incredulous. “He said he’s from Mars?”

“Yes. And he was very convincing.”

“You mean you believe he’s an alien from outer space?” Ceri had laughed.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been but no, he says he is human. There’s a colony on Mars, he says, which was established before the Gene Wars and that’s where he was born.”

Ceri had frowned. “There are stories of such a colony, and of habitats in space, but surely, without support from Earth, they’d have died out years ago.”

“Well, according to Milo the colony on Mars is still flourishing.”

Ceri had remained sceptical. “So how did he get to Earth, and why?”

“He came in a spaceship that crashed in the sea. But as to why he won’t say yet.”

Ceri had shaken her head in disbelief. “So why didn’t he tell us all this stuff about Mars? Why did he lie to us about coming from another sea habitat?”

“He said he had his reasons.”

“Yes, I’ll bet he did. Jan, I don’t know how you can be so gullible! You know how much he’s lied to you in the past. And now you’re willing to trust him again; willing to partake in some crazy, downright dangerous scheme involving the machinery in the control room?”

In anguish, Jan had said, “I have no choice, don’t you see? I have to trust him again! He has promised me the means of vengeance on the Lord Pangloth! I won’t have peace of mind until I do!”

“But you told me that when you had the chance to destroy the Lord Pangloth you couldn’t go through with it. I’m not complaining, mind, but what makes you think you’ll be able to do it if Milo provides you with a second chance?”

Jan had shaken her head. “He’s not talking about destroying the, airship but taking control of it somehow.”

“But he won’t tell you how?”

“No,” Jan had admitted. “Not yet.”

Ceri had given her a despairing look. “I’m beginning to think your first opinion of Milo was the correct one. That he’s a sorcerer. He certainly seems to have performed sorcery on your good sense.”

Nothing had happened since then to alter Ceri’s opinion of either Milo or Jan’s involvement with him and Jan had given up trying to argue with her. “We’re talking about us, not Milo,” she told Ceri.

“Not any more we’re not,” said Ceri firmly. She stood up. “When the Prince finishes his ritual breakfast with his beloved mother he will expect to find you all dressed and ready to go. Come on, I’ll run you a bath. And while you’re taking it I’ll go fetch you some food.”

Jan looked at her and sighed.

The doors of the elevator slid open and Prince Caspar entered the control room. Jan, keeping a dutiful few steps behind, followed him. The twelve Engineers in the room were all standing stiffly to attention. They raised their right arms, the fists clenched, in salute to the Prince as he took his seat on the throne on the dais at the rear of the control room. Jan took her place beside the throne, her arm resting across its back, while Dalwyn remained by the elevator doors.

“Resume your duties,” Caspar told the Engineers and they immediately relaxed and turned their attention to their instruments. Gorman, the Chief Engineer, approached the throne. He was a small man with a bland, unreadable face. As usual his grey uniform, with its black Engineering Guild insignia—a bolt of lightning across a circle—on the left breast, was neatly pressed and a pair of binoculars hung from his neck. “We’re on schedule, sire,” he said.

“Good. Carry on, Chief Engineer,” said Caspar, the lack of interest clear in his tone of voice. Jan knew he found his control room duties boring. She also knew that he was completely ignorant, like all the Aristos, of the actual mechanics involved in running and operating the Lord Pangloth. Without the Engineers, who were well aware of how indispensable they were, they would be helpless.

Gorman gave a bow to Caspar. “Very well, your Highness.” As he straightened his eyes met briefly with Jan. Once again she got the feeling he could see straight through her; knew her every secret. She had noticed him surreptitiously watching her when she had been ‘playing’ with the device that was the object of Milo’s interest even though she thought she’d allayed his suspicions long ago by telling him that she liked the ‘pretty colours’ that appeared on the screen when she pushed the various buttons.

Gorman returned to his customary position immediately behind the two seated helmsmen. The control room was a glass blister protruding from the hull at the bottom of the bow. Only the walkways and equipment partially obscured a 360 degree field of vision.

Jan was able to recognize now just what in the control room dated back to the airship’s original builders and what had been added, or altered, by subsequent generations of Engineers. It was also easy, now, for her to realize that the more recent the modification the more primitive it appeared to be in comparison to the original equipment and fittings.

Milo had been fascinated by her descriptions of the state of the control room after her first visits to it. “It sounds as if,” he told her, “thanks to their meddling over the years, they’ve bypassed more and more of the functions of the central computer in order to feel more in control. But obviously the computer is still exerting its influence over much of the running of the Lord Pangloth. There is no way a human pilot could fly something of this size without the assistance of a computer. Just maintaining the ship’s trim would be beyond ten human pilots working together. The computer must be constantly making adjustments; to the thrusters, to the temperature of the gas in the individual cells, to the stabilizers and elevators…. ”

“We are approaching Bandala,” announced Gorman. “We will be directly overhead in exactly five minutes.”

Jan peered down through the curving transparent wall. The airship was passing over rugged hill country. Parts of the hill slopes were richly forested but even at this high altitude the blight had gotten a secure grip on the land. The blight, she had learned, thrived best at low altitudes and high temperatures.

Bandala was a remnant of a state that had been exclusively black. Like Minerva it had shrunk to a mere fragment of its former size but unlike Minerva it wasn’t a producer of grain and other foodstuffs but metal and timber. There was an iron ore mine within its shrunken borders, as well as smelters, foundries and several small factories. The latter were capable of making a limited range of metal and wooden artifacts.

Jan watched with interest as a wide valley full of buildings came into view. Bandala was much bigger than Minerva had been, both in terms of the area that it covered and the number of buildings it contained. Some of the buildings had long chimneys from which smoke was rising. As with Minerva every available space was covered with vegetable gardens. Jan knew it was part of the traditional contract between Bandala and the Lord Pangloth that the Sky Lord actually provided the Bandalans with supplies of grain, as they had lost their distant farm lands ages ago.

She also knew that the Bandalans had been very dissatisfied with the meagre load of grain that the Sky Lord had deposited on its last trip but the Sky Warriors had told them it was all that was available. And they were telling the truth. Minerva wasn’t the only food-producing community that had been lost to the Lord Pangloth recently. Two others had been overrun completely by the blight within the last year and the Sky Lord’s grain surplus had been drastically reduced as a result.

“With your permission, your Highness, I shall halt the vessel and descend to hailing distance,” said Gorman to the Prince. Caspar nodded and Gorman gave a curt command to the helmsmen who both pulled sharply back on four large levers. Jan felt the floor vibrate slightly and heard the thrusters roar their protest as they went into full reverse power to bring the mile-long airship to a gliding halt above the valley. Some of the thrusters, she knew, would be swivelling to hold it steady in that position no matter how strong a wind was blowing.

More terse commands from Gorman, more manipulation of levers by the helmsmen. Another tremor ran through the floor as the Lord Pangloth began to descend. It dropped about a thousand feet, then Gorman gave the order to stop. “Hail them,” he said. Another Engineer pressed a switch on a console and once again the voice of ‘Lord Pangloth’ boomed out.

Jan knew now that it wasn’t the voice of the last Lord Pangloth. Its owner, long since dead, had been chosen for the task simply because he possessed an impressively deep voice. His words, spoken long ago, had been trapped inside a machine. “Think of the machine as a kind of echo trap,” Milo had said when attempting to explain the principle to her. But however it worked, the machine was showing increasing signs of breaking down. ‘Lord Pangloth’s’ voice was accompanied by much loud hissing and crackling.

The speech ended. Smoke rose from an empty square in the centre of the valley. The signal of acquiescence. The airship began to descend again. Then Jan noticed that Gorman was in conversation with his second-in-command. Gorman was pointing downwards. Jan looked but could see nothing out of the ordinary. Puzzled, she glanced at Caspar, but he was engrossed in polishing his big ruby ring on the fabric of his trouser leg.

“Your Highness …” Gorman had turned to the Prince. “Something is not right. …”

“What do you mean?” asked Caspar, uninterestedly.

“Look, sire,” said Gorman, pointing. “Three large structures that I am sure were not here on our last visit.”

“What, you mean those water tanks? But surely they’ve always been there?” said Caspar.

“There were two before. Now there are five,” said Gorman. “And the three new ones are much bigger than the others. The combined water capacity of these additional tanks is far beyond the needs of Bandala’s population.”

The objects of Gorman’s concern, Jan saw, were large, cylindrical structures made of wood. They were built high up on the slopes of the valley walls.

Caspar studied them with a frown then said, in exasperation, “Oh really, Gorman! So the earthworms have built water towers they don’t need—so what? Why should we be concerned by such a demonstration of their stupidity?”

“I don’t know, sire,” admitted Gorman. “But after the experience with Minerva I believe that in these, er, unusual times extreme caution is called for.” Gorman then gave Jan a pointed look. “I think we should return to a safer altitude until we’re sure.”

Caspar sucked noisily on his ruby rings. He hated making decisions. He also didn’t like to stay in the control room any longer than necessary. But to ignore advice from Gorman was never wise. … “Oh, very well, Gorman,” Caspar said testily. “Do whatever you want. But if this delay proves to be a complete waste of time I’m going to be very displeased.”

“Thank you, sire,” said Gorman, unperturbed. He turned and snapped out an order to the helmsmen. There was an increase of sound from the thrusters. The Lord Pangloth’s descent slowed. Jan saw that the summits of the surrounding hills were now level with the control room.

“Take us up, fast,” ordered Gorman.

But it was too late. The three new ‘water tanks’ were opening up like vast, wooden flowers, revealing that they contained not water, but something very different.

Chapter Seventeen

“All units to battle stations!” yelled Gorman into the microphone connected to loudspeakers throughout the airship. “We are under attack!”

“What are they?” asked the Prince as he stared wide-eyed at the three rapidly rising objects.

“Balloons,” said Gorman. “Hot-air balloons. And damn big ones.”

Two of the balloons were rising on the Lord Pangloth’s port side, the third was to starboard. The ‘water tanks’, it was obvious now, had been flimsy wooden constructs concealing the large balloons, which Jan estimated were about eighty feet from top to bottom. They were level with the airship’s lower hull and she could see plainly the structures hanging beneath each balloon. They were big wooden cages filled with men, ropes, boxes and objects that were presumably weapons. At the centre of the cage sat a huge stove that men were furiously feeding with pieces of coal and wood. The stack of each stove disappeared into the open neck of the towering balloon above.

“Shoot them down!” cried the Prince. “Blow them out of the sky with the cannon! They have no right to be up here! They are breaking the first law of the Sky Lords!” He had risen to his feet and his face had gone very red.

“They are moving too fast for the cannon,” said Gorman. This was true. The three balloons were ascending much faster than the Lord Pangloth and would soon be out of sight to those in the control room. Gorman leaned over the microphone again. “All units of riflemen—open fire!”

Instantly Jan heard the crackling of gunfire. She saw a man in one of the wooden cages fall backwards. The others took cover where they could. Jan saw puffs of smoke along the side of the cage. The Bandalans were firing back, but then came flashes of light. The Lord Pangloth’s automatic defences—the lasers—were designed to destroy threatening objects even as small as bullets.

“Can’t we rise any faster?” cried the Prince.

“No, sire,” answered Gorman. “The thrusters are at full power. We’re raising the temperature of the gas in the cells which will give us extra lift but it will be some time before that takes effect.”

The three balloons had now passed out of sight. The sound of rifle-fire continued.

“What do those stupid earthworms think they’re doing, Gorman?” demanded the Prince.

“I don’t know, yet,” confessed Gorman. Jan had never seen him looking so concerned. She realized he was now helpless, with no way of knowing what was going on outside. Everything had been designed to deal with events happening on the ground; Gorman and his men were not prepared for dealing with threats that came from above. Nor was the loudspeaker system any help. Gorman could issue orders to the rest of the ship but communication worked one way only. The original system had long since fallen into disrepair and the only way to get a message into the control room was to have it physically delivered. And by the time any messenger arrived the Bandalans would have no doubt already done whatever they planned to do.

“Sire, I’m going to order full ahead. It’s too dangerous to stay in the area,” Gorman told the prince.

“What?” Casper looked astonished. “You mean flee? No, out of the question, Gorman. The Lord Pangloth will never run away from a bunch of earthworms. …”

“Consider it a temporary retreat, sire,” said Gorman with strained formality. “We shall return when we are in a safe altitude and suitably punish the Bandalans.”

“No,” said Caspar, his voice cracking with anger. “A Sky Lord would never. …”

His words were drowned out by a large explosion. There were cries of alarm from some of the Engineers as the deck began to sway back and forth. Then Jan saw pieces of wreckage dropping from the sky on the starboard side of the airship. Fragments of charred and burning wood … bits of rope … blackened objects that she realized were parts of bodies. Then, more slowly, the burning, twisting balloon canopy of one of the hot-air balloons. Ripped apart, it flapped downwards like a giant piece of burning rag.

The Engineers began to cheer. The Prince rounded on Gorman with a triumphant grin. “See, Gorman! So much for the earthworms! You said our cannons couldn’t hit them but they have!”

Gorman was still watching the falling canopy, his expression grim. He said, “Sire, one of our shells could not have produced such a massive explosion. The only other explanation is that the Bandalans were carrying explosives of their own. And that means the other two balloons are similarly equipped. I repeat, sire, we must leave the area immediately.”

Prince Caspar’s look of triumph drained away. “You think there is a chance the Bandalans could harm us?”

“I do, sire. Let me give the order to proceed full ahead.”

Caspar chewed his lower lip worriedly, then nodded. “Very well, Gorman, but I’m holding you responsible.”

“Full ahead!” Gorman snapped to the helmsmen.

They pushed levers. The control room juddered as the Lord Pangloth’s thrusters changed direction and started to drive the mile-long vessel forward.

Then came another explosion. Seconds later the deck again began to tilt, but so violently this time that several of the Engineers lost their balance. Jan would have fallen too if she hadn’t been holding on to the back of the throne. Caspar wasn’t so fortunate and was pitched off the dais to land on his hands and knees behind Gorman. Gorman helped him up as one of the Engineers yelled, “Sir, we’re losing altitude! Instruments show a major rupture in Cell number Seven!”

White-faced, the Prince clung on to Gorman and cried at him, “My God, they’ve blown us up! We’re on fire!”

“Cell Seven contains helium, sire! Or rather it did. …” Gorman tried to pull free of the Prince’s convulsive grip. “Everyone remain calm!” he yelled, more for the Prince’s benefit than anyone else. “How fast are we losing altitude?”

“Just over a foot every second!” called back the Engineer who was monitoring a row of altimeters. “Seventy feet a minute.”

“Sir!” cried one of the helmsmen. “If we keep descending at this rate we’re going to hit that next range of hills ahead of us.”

“Gorman, do something!” cried the Prince, still gripping his arms. “I order you to do something!”

What Gorman did was to give the Prince such a violent shove that he fell backwards and landed heavily on the deck. Caspar’s first reaction was one of stunned amazement, then his expression changed to one of naked fury. “Kill him!” he ordered Dalwyn, who was already moving towards Gorman. “He dared to lay hands upon me.”

Dalwyn grabbed Gorman by the throat but seemed unsure of what to do. He looked enquiringly to the Prince. “Kill him!” yelled Caspar again, getting to his feet and reaching for his ceremonial sword. “Or I will myself!”

The scene formed a bizarre tableau within the control room, with everyone frozen except the Prince, who was drawing his sword and advancing on Gorman. Then Jan saw that Gorman was giving her a pleading look. …

She saw immediately what he had in mind and hesitated only a moment before stepping forward and crying, “My Lord, don’t kill him yet! You still have need of him!”

The Prince turned to her, his face a mask of rage. “What?” he demanded. “What are you talking about, girl? This filth assaulted me. He must die.”

Jan stepped close to him and clasped his face between her hands. “My master, listen to me, please,” she pleaded. “I know he must be punished but not yet. The Lord Pangloth is in serious trouble and only you and the Chief Engineer working together can save it. You must let him resume his duties, and fast. Every second counts, my Lord. Look!” She made him turn and look ahead. The range of high hills were looming dangerously close.

Caspar stared at them for several long and tense moments, then let his sword drop back into its scabbard. “Dalwyn, release him. Gorman, do what is necessary.”

Dalwyn let Gorman go. Pausing only to rub his throat Gorman said calmly. “Helmsmen, reverse thrust, then give us full power straight up.”

“And did our beloved monarch have him executed afterwards?” asked Milo cheerfully.

“No. Lady Jane talked him out of doing anything so drastic. He’s been suspended from duty and restricted to his quarters. I heard there’s going to be some sort of trial, but they need Gorman too much to kill him, or even keep him suspended from duty for very long.”

“The Aristos needed them too, but look what they did. …” He indicated the columns of black smoke that were still visible above the distant valley of Bandala.

“They did argue a lot before they came to the decision to bomb the Bandalans,” she said. “Lady Jane was the voice of reason again but she was out-voted. Many of the Aristos were hysterical … they wouldn’t listen to her.”

“So they destroy the one place within their ever-shrinking empire that supplied them with metal, not to mention most of their gunpowder.” He laughed. “That kind of thinking brings empires to a hasty end.”

“I told you, they were scared,” said Jan. She wrapped her arms around herself. It was cold out on their usual meeting place, the small observation deck, and her thin garment gave her no protection. “Probably more scared than when we Minervans attacked. We didn’t do any damage but the Bandalans certainly did.”

“They did indeed,” agreed Milo, almost gleefully. “Even I was becoming a little worried about the outcome.”

It had been a close thing, as Jan realized when she had later learned what had happened. Gorman had been right that the three balloons had been carrying large amounts of explosives. A lucky hit with a bullet had set off the explosives in one of the balloons but the other two succeeded in rising up and over the Lord Pangloth, where they then dropped large grappling hooks towards the hull. A man perched precariously on each hook prevented them from being destroyed by the automatic lasers.

Both grappling hooks got a purchase on the hull, a considerable distance apart, and the Bandalans were then able to haul their balloons down along the ropes, at the same time making the balloons less buoyant by shutting off the supplies of hot air.

Each cage contained about ten men. One group survived for only a short time, having come down near a large unit of Sky Warriors, but the second group was more fortunate, landing a long way from the nearest hatchway. By the time Sky Warriors reached them they had succeeded in detonating their crate of gunpowder, ripping a large hole in the hull and also puncturing, possibly beyond repair, one of the gas cells, allowing its irreplaceable supply of helium to escape into the atmosphere. If, of course, they’d happened to have set off their explosive above one of the hydrogen-filled cells the Lord Pangloth would have been doomed. As it was the airship had sustained serious damage and might even be permanently crippled if it proved impossible to repair Cell number Seven and fill it with hydrogen. At the moment the Lord Pangloth was still listing slightly to port and was flying only at a thousand feet, the best altitude it could manage.

Milo sighed. “And with all those distractions you missed a perfect opportunity to test those new sequences of symbols I gave you for the terminal.”

She glared at him. “Distractions? I thought we were about to crash. And if it hadn’t been for Gorman we would have. The last thing on my mind was your precious box of lights.”

“I keep telling you—my ‘box of lights’ holds a key that will allow us to unlock a source of great power. You could have tried afterwards, when the emergency was over and everyone was squabbling as to whether to bomb the Bandalans or not.”

“I was too busy with the Prince, trying to keep him calm. He was still demanding that Gorman be executed. But don’t worry, I’ll try again at the next opportunity. With Gorman out of the way for the time being it’ll be easier for me. He’s the only one who keeps watching me when I’m playing with your box of lights. I’m sure he suspects something.”

Milo shrugged. “From what you tell me you saved his life. Even if he gets his old post back his attitude towards you will be different.”

“I doubt that. He’s cold, like you. He follows his own secret set of motives and doesn’t let personal feelings get in the way. Just like you.”

He laughed and put his arm around her bare shoulders. “How could you accuse me of being cold. You know how I feel about you.”

She pulled away from him. “Don’t. Yes, I know how you feel about me. First you needed me for sex, now you need me for something else, but as soon as you don’t need me at all I will be nothing to you.”

“All human relationships are based on need—on selfishness. And all human emotions too. Selfishness equals survival. To believe otherwise is to indulge in romantic self-deception.”

“So you admit that as soon as you stop needing me I’ll be expendable?” she asked him coolly.

He smiled at her. “Jan, I can’t imagine a time when I won’t need you.”

“I’m sure a lot of women have heard you say those same words during your long life. And where are they all now, I wonder. All dead and forgotten by you, no doubt.”

He looked pained. “You’ve become a cynic terribly fast.”

“I’ve had a good teacher. And now I’ve got to go. The Prince is showing one of his favourite Entertainments to his inner circle tonight and he wants me to be there.”

“The Aristos are going to spend tonight watching old movies?” asked Milo in surprise. “After all that’s happened today and with the Lord Pangloth in the state it’s in?”

“That’s exactly why. They want to retreat back into their cosy, insulated world as soon as possible. They want to pretend that today never happened.”

But even though she knew this Jan still found the atmosphere at the Prince’s screening party that night very strange. No one mentioned the Bandalans’ near-successful attack, no one discussed what might happen if the Lord Pangloth couldn’t be repaired; instead there was only small-talk about nothing in particular, jokes and forced laughter. They were pretending everything was the same as usual. And maybe, she suspected, they even believed it.

After the food had been eaten and a lot of drink had been consumed they all settled down in their fur-covered seats and faced a wall that seemed to be made of black glass. Jan sat beside the Prince. He put his hand on her upper thigh and began stroking it through the fabric of her gown. She could tell that he was sexually keyed up and took it as another reaction to the day’s traumatic events. She guessed that he would be very active in bed that night.

The lights went out and the wall of glass vanished. The ‘Entertainment’ had begun.

The first time she had seen one Jan had been profoundly shocked, much to the amusement of the Prince and his friends. It had been a disconcerting experience to see the glass wall suddenly turn into a gateway that led straight to the centre of another world—a world that looked more real than her own one, where the colours were richer and the people larger and more attractive. She had gasped with fright and clutched at the Prince’s arm. “What’s happening?” she had cried.

He had chuckled and told her to be quiet. “Watch and enjoy. It’s only an Entertainment.” So she had forced herself to sit still and to watch the disturbing sights visible through the gap where the fourth wall had been—people whose faces suddenly became enormous, dizzying flights over strange landscapes and vast cities made of towers of glass full of coloured lights, fights between groups of people using weapons of horrible power, things made of metal that talked like men … By the end of it she felt as if her head was going to explode from the sheer amount of different, unbelievable things she had seen.

The next day Jan was anxious to talk to Milo and to get his explanation for the phenomenon she had witnessed. “It was a holographic movie,” he told her. “The ‘glass wall’ projects images in three dimensions. Produces one hundred per cent realism, so I’m not surprised you were knocked for a loop by it all.”

She asked him where the images had come from. “They’re stored—preserved—on a tape, but don’t ask me to explain how. Probably date back to the early twenty-first century. What was the movie about?”

She hadn’t known the ‘Entertainment’ had been about anything. All she’d seen were apparently unconnected images adding up to chaos. Milo then asked her what clothes the people had worn. “They were dressed very much like the Aristos … and, oh yes, they sang a lot.”

“They sang?” he asked, then laughed. “I know the period that was made now. Mid-twenty-first century. Part of a long series of musical fantasies. Became incredibly popular but I never understood why. I thought they were banal crap. Still, the ancestors of the Aristos must have thought highly of them. Wouldn’t surprise me if they modelled their own clothing on the styles in the series, which is why the Aristos are still going around in fancy dress.” He found this thought very amusing and laughed for a long time but Jan was still puzzled.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Those images, were they of the past before the Gene Wars? Were there really huge cities of glass on other worlds?”

“I’m afraid not, Jan. None of it was real. It was all a fantasy. One of a series, like I said, set in a never-never future about a pseudo-medieval empire that ruled the galaxy.”

“Oh,” she said. She was a little disappointed. “But the whole thing had seemed so real. How was it done? And where did those beautiful people come from? And when they sung they had such beautiful voices too. …”

“Those people never existed, Jan. Like the glass cities and everything you saw, they were generated inside a computer. Think of them as incredibly realistic paintings … paintings that can move and talk. …”

Jan hadn’t believed him then and even now, as she watched the very same Entertainment for about the thirtieth time, she still found it difficult to accept that these beautiful people had never lived or breathed; that they were the product of some ancient mechanical brain.

Even so she normally enjoyed watching it—she was now capable of discerning the ‘plot’—but tonight she couldn’t keep her attention on the spectacle. She kept remembering Milo’s final words to her that evening. “You must increase your efforts with that computer terminal. I have the strong feeling that time is running out. I don’t believe in omens as a rule, but today’s near-catastrophe seems a kind of warning to me that the Lord Pangloth’s days are numbered.”

Jan knew what he meant. She shared the same feeling that, from now on, the Lord Pangloth and everyone in it were living on borrowed time.

These premonitions were proved correct exactly a week later. On the morning that the Lord Pangloth encountered the Perfumed Breeze.

Chapter Eighteen

A difficult manoeuvre was being carried out. The Lord Pangloth was hovering very close to the surface of a lake in order to take on board a large amount of fresh water. The water, being pumped up through a long, weighted hose, was needed not only to replenish the normal supplies but also for conversion into hydrogen gas. A large amount of the gas would need to be produced in the airship’s electrolysis plant to inflate Cell number Seven which, it was hoped, had now been successfully repaired.

The manoeuvre was difficult because as more water was pumped on board the airship naturally became heavier, and to compensate for this the temperature in the gas cells had to be adjusted to provide more lift. So delicate was the operation that Gorman had been temporarily released from his quarters to supervise it. The atmosphere in the control room was very tense as a result, which provided Jan with the perfect opportunity to try the computer terminal again. Milo had provided her with yet another series of permutations of what he called the ‘access code’ and she was having trouble keeping all the numbers in her mind.

She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she wasn’t aware at first that something was wrong. It was only when she heard Caspar call out Gorman’s name that she became alerted to the fact that there was an emergency; until then the Prince had been pretending that Gorman wasn’t present. She looked up from the frustratingly blank screen and saw that everyone was staring out through the port side of the control room. And then she saw it. …

For a few moments she thought the spherical object was another hot air balloon but then she realized that she was seeing another airship travelling bow-on towards them at the same low altitude.

Another airship?

Everyone in the control room, with the exception of Jan, was talking at once. Over the babble of voices she heard Caspar’s uncomprehending cry to Gorman: “Gorman, how can it be possible? How could the earthworms have built an airship?”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with earthworms, sire,” said Gorman as he studied the approaching airship through his binoculars. “That’s another Sky Lord.”

Caspar looked as if someone had just kicked him very hard in the backside. And he wasn’t the only one, Jan noticed.

“But that’s impossible!” Caspar finally managed to splutter.

Gorman was ignoring him. “Pumping crew, cease operating and reel in,” Gorman called into the microphone. Then, “Helmsmen, take us up immediately. Don’t wait for them to reel the hose in. …”

Jan looked again at the approaching Sky Lord. It was much bigger now and she estimated that it was less than two miles away. She could also see details on the round face it presented to them. The lower half was luridly coloured and, like the Lord Pangloth, it had giant eyes painted on its sides.

“Full elevation at full speed!” ordered Gorman, and Jan had to clutch on to the back of Caspar’s throne as the Lord Pangloth’s bow began to rise sharply as the airship surged forward.

“All units to battle stations!” Gorman yelled into the microphone. She could hear his amplified voice booming in other parts of the Lord Pangloth. She could hear sirens and alarm bells as well.

“But what’s another Sky Lord doing in our territory?” cried the Prince.

Gorman ignored him. He was again watching the intruder through his binoculars. “That’s not the Lord Matamoros, that’s for certain.”

The Lord Matamoros, Jan knew, was the Sky Lord whose territory lay immediately to the south of the Lord Pangloth’s.

“Why aren’t we turning, Gorman?” demanded the Prince. “Turn and attack the intruder!”

Gorman lowered his binoculars and looked at Caspar. “I advise caution, sire. The intruder has the advantage on us, and from the way it was bearing down on us it has some definite plan of attack in mind.”

“So why don’t we just attack it?” cried the Prince in exasperation. “Gorman, I command you to turn and attack the intruder!”

Jan saw a muscle twitch in Gorman’s cheek and anticipated a repeat of the events a week ago. But Gorman maintained his self-control and said carefully, “Sire, just how do you suggest we attack the intruder?”

The Prince looked blank. “Why, we simply close in on him and open…. ” He didn’t continue. Awareness had dawned in his eyes.

Gorman nodded. “Exactly. His lasers would stop our every shell and bullet.”

“But … but …” protested Caspar as he grappled with the problem. Gorman waited patiently. When it was clear that no illuminating shaft of wisdom would be forthcoming from the Prince he said, “There is nothing we can do to cause the intruder damage.”

Jan, who never spoke in the control room unless spoken to first, decided that the unusual circumstances warranted her breaking of the rule. “Chief Engineer,” she said, “just as we can’t hit the intruder with bullets or shells neither can he hit us.”

Caspar whirled in her direction. “Hah!” he cried. “The amazon is right! We have nothing to be afraid of!” He turned back to Gorman. “So what reason do we have to run?”

Gorman looked at Jan briefly before answering the Prince. “Possibly no reason at all. But from the confidence of his approach I feel it wise to give him the benefit of the doubt. He may have developed a means unknown to us of attacking another Sky Lord.”

They all turned to watch the intruder, which was now to the rear of the Lord Pangloth. It was turning to give chase and Jan saw that its bright colours extended all the way along its side. She also saw that it had a huge red circle painted on its tail fin.

“The Perfumed Breeze,” murmured Gorman.

“You know its name?” asked the Prince sharply. “Where is it from? What’s its territory?”

“It’s one of the Sky Lords of the Orient. In the Far East. It’s come a long way.”

“But why?” demanded the Prince.

Gorman shrugged. “Whatever the reason I think we can safely assume it is unconnected with any feeling of goodwill towards us.”

“Sir, the intruder is gaining on us!” announced one of the Engineers.

“I’m not surprised,” said Gorman. “With Cell Seven only partially inflated we’re a lot slower than him.” He glanced around at the clear blue sky. “Not even any cloud for us to hide in. …”

“What can we do?” asked the Prince.

“We can’t outrun him so we’re going to have to out-manoeuvre him,” said Gorman. “Helmsmen, hard to starboard!”

And so began a game of aerial cat-and-mouse that was to last for nearly five hours. But despite all of Gorman’s skills the outcome of the dual became apparent early on—all he could really do was delay the inevitable. …

During the five-hour period several of the higher-ranking Aristos came down to the control room, including Lady Jane and Prince Magid. Lady Jane took in the situation very quickly and, after asking Gorman a couple of brief, terse questions, stood silently beside Jan, her expression grim. Prince Magid, however, like Caspar, pestered Gorman with useless questions and suggestions.

Finally, at half-past three in the afternoon, the Perfumed Breeze was flying alongside the Lord Pangloth less than five hundred feet away. The intruder was close enough for the many people crowding her decks and upper hull to be clearly visible. But so far there was no sign of any overt aggression from the other airship.

“Can’t we open fire on them?” asked the Prince wistfully. “I know it would be a waste of time but at least it would be a gesture.”

“A gesture they might consider to be provocative,” said Gorman. “Not to mention a waste of valuable ammunition.”

“I agree,” said Lady Jane quietly. “Let’s wait and see what they want with us.”

“Now what?” muttered Gorman with a frown. The Perfumed Breeze was picking up speed and pulling ahead of the Lord Pangloth. Then, in what seemed to be an act of madness, the other airship started to cut in front of the Pangloth. There were cries of alarm in the control room. “We’re going to collide … !” screamed someone.

“Full reverse!” cried Gorman. “Quickly!”

The thrusters roared, but the gap between the Pangloth and the other airship that now lay immediately across its bow continued to shrink at a frightening rate. Jan and Lady Jane clutched each other. Jan shut her eyes and waited for the impact. It didn’t come. She heard Lady Jane give a long sigh.

Jan looked and saw that the hull of the other airship was still a couple of hundred feet away. Then it began to slowly recede as the screaming thrusters pushed the Lord Pangloth into reverse. But then Jan saw people leaping from the other airship, from almost every deck. They were suspended from what appeared to be large, triangular-shaped pieces of brightly coloured material.

Gorman snatched up the microphone. “All rifle units, open fire at approaching targets! Open fire!”

The air between the two Sky Lords was rapidly becoming filled with the brightly coloured, fluttering triangles and their black-clad passengers. There were hundreds of them.

“What kind of parachutes are they?” cried Caspar. “They don’t fall, they float!”

“They’re not floating—they’re gliding,” said Gorman.” It’s what I feared. The masters or master of the Perfumed Breeze has devised a method for attacking another Sky Lord. Our laser defences won’t work against them. …”

As the attackers drew closer several of them were hit by rifle bullets and fell, screaming, from their gliders, which went corkscrewing through the air out of control. But the majority of them flew on unscathed and were soon out of sight to those in the control room as they headed for landing sites on the upper hull.

Then came a wave of larger gliders. These each had two people suspended beneath them, precariously perched on a wire cradle and gripping a bar which obviously controlled the glider’s direction.

Jan thought she saw something glinting behind a couple of the approaching, larger gliders—like the strand of a spider’s web caught by the sun. Gorman had noticed it too. “Helmsmen, take us down, fast. …”

But as the Lord Pangloth started to descend, so did the intruder, keeping an exact pace. Gorman slammed his fist into his other palm with anger and frustration, then he turned to one of his men and said, “Pryce, go topside and check on the situation! Quickly, we must know what’s going on!”

As the man hurried up the spiral staircase beside the elevator, which was reserved exclusively for the use of the Aristos, Jan saw that black lines seemed to be growing towards them from the other airship.

“Cables,” said Gorman bitterly when the Prince asked him what they were. “The last batch of gliders were trailing out thin wires as they came. Now they’re being used to haul over heavier cables. They aim to tether us.”

“Enough of this!” Prince Caspar suddenly shouted. He drew his sword, waved it with a flourish and headed towards the elevator. “I am going up to fight these scum! Who is with me?”

None of the other Aristo men made a move to follow him. Lady Jane stepped forward. “Caspar, don’t be reckless. You mustn’t put your life in danger needlessly. Let the Sky Warriors handle it.”

“Why should they have all the fun? No, I’m going topside.”

“No, Caspar,” said Lady Jane, more loudly. “You must remain here. I may need your protection.”

This made him hesitate. “Oh, Mother …” he whined. “You don’t need my protection, You’re perfectly safe here. But I’ll leave Dalwyn with you if you’re really worried. …”

“I want you to stay with me, Caspar,” said Lady Jane. “It’s your duty.”

Caspar stamped his foot on the deck. “But I have to do something, mother! I just can’t wait here doing nothing!”

“I agree with you, sire,” interceded Gorman. “I suggest we order the forward batteries to open fire on the Perfumed Breeze.” Everyone looked at him. “But the lasers … our shells won’t reach their target,” said the Prince.

Gorman shrugged. “Probably not, but at this range there may be a chance. But even if none do the resulting explosions and laser flashes may sever some of those damn cables.”

“Do it then!” commanded the Prince. “Give the order.”

Gorman picked up the mike. “Attention forward batteries. Open fire at will! Open fire at will!”

About fifteen or twenty seconds later there came a dull boom as one of the cannons was fired. Then, to the astonishment of every one in the control room, they saw an explosion on the hull of the intruder. The shell hit near a thruster and when the smoke cleared there was a jagged-edged hole some twelve feet across in the hull.

“No lasers!” cried the Prince amid the cheering. “Their lasers can’t be working!”

Gorman was already yelling into the mike. “Attention all batteries! Open fire! Open fire! The target is undefended! I repeat, the target is undefended!”

They waited expectantly for the sound of more cannon fire. But it didn’t come.

“What’s the matter with those fools?” erupted the Prince. “Why aren’t they firing?”

“I think I know why,” Gorman said, grim-faced.

“That settles it,” said Caspar. “I am going topside. I’m going to take personal command of one of the batteries and blow that gang of pirates out of the sky myself!”

But before he could move there came the clatter of footsteps on the spiral staircase above. It was the Engineer who Gorman had sent to see what was happening.

“Bad news,” he gasped as he came down the stairs. “The invaders are inside the Lord Pangloth. There are hundreds and hundreds of them. They fight like demons. Our Sky Warriors are no match for them.”

Prince Caspar stepped forward and grabbed the man by the shoulder. “What sections of the ship have they penetrated?” he demanded.

“I’m not certain—everything is so confused up there. People running from the invaders one way, and meeting people fleeing from the opposite direction. But I heard someone say that the invaders are definitely inside your Lords’ and Ladyships’ quarters, sire.”

Oh Mother God, thought Jan when she heard this, Ceri.

“We’re done for,” muttered Prince Magid.

“Not necessarily,” said Gorman. “We are still in control of the nerve centre of the Lord Pangloth. And if we seal the hatchway and disable the elevator we should remain in control.”

“But what good will that do us?” asked the Prince. “We’re helpless! Look at those cables! If we tried to flee we’d just drag those pirates along with us.”

“But there’s nothing to stop us from going forward, sire,” Gorman told him.

“You mean, ram them? But we’d destroy ourselves as well.”

“I suggest we use the threat of ramming the Perfumed Breeze to force the invaders to negotiate with us,” said Gorman. “If they think we’re just bluffing, well then—” he shrugged—“better to die by our own hand than to be butchered by these orientals.”

There was silence in the control room for a few moments then Caspar nodded his agreement. “You’re right, Gorman. Have your men seal the entrance immediately.”

But before anyone could make a move there came again the clattering of footsteps from the top of the spiral staircase. Presuming that the first of the invaders was entering the control room Caspar and Dalwyn drew their swords and rushed forward.

A blood-soaked figure came into view. He was wearing shredded overalls and was carrying a sword the like of which Jan had never seen before. At first she didn’t recognize the blood-spattered man. As he reached the bottom of the stairs she gasped with surprise. It was Milo.

Chapter Nineteen

Milo stopped at base of the staircase, looked around and grinned broadly. “Forgive the intrusion, your Royal Highnesses, but I’m on a rather important errand. I did intend to be here sooner but the traffic up there is murder.”

The Aristos and the Engineers stared uncomprehendingly at Milo. Then Dalwyn spotted the brand on Milo’s cheek. “He’s a slave!” he cried.

“An ex-slave, I’d say, judging by the mess upstairs.” Then he spotted Jan. “Hi Jan!” he called cheerfully. “I hoped I’d find you here. Where’s the terminal?”

As Jan pointed Lady Jane said to her, “You know him?”

Jan nodded. “His name is Milo. The one I told you about. The one who, er, befriended me.”

Milo was looking at Prince Caspar and Dalwyn, who stood before him with their swords drawn. “Out of my way, your Worshipfulnesses. I don’t want to harm you but I need to get to that terminal over there.”

“Slave,” commanded the Prince. “Put down your sword or suffer the consequences.”

“I’ll say it one more time—out of my way. It won’t be long before the Japs get down here and I’ve got a lot to do before they do.” He raised the strange sword.

“Dalwyn,” said the Prince, “kill him.”

Dalwyn lunged at Milo.

Milo didn’t move; he blurred. At the same time there came a sickening sound of sharp metal chopping through flesh and bone and Dalwyn’s head was suddenly racing through the air. His headless body, meanwhile, toppled to the deck and lay there twitching. To Jan it seemed, for a few moments, as if it was trying to get up again but then it went mercifully still. She looked at Milo. He was still grinning. His eyes had an insane look to them. “Next!” he said, to Caspar.

“He’s a sorcerer!” gasped someone.

Caspar was staring fearfully at Dalwyn’s decapitated corpse. Slowly he lowered his sword and backed away from Milo.

“That’s the spirit,” said Milo approvingly and bounded towards the terminal. People collided with each other in their efforts to keep well away from him. He surveyed the console with satisfaction then turned. “Jan!” he said beckoning to her. “Here. I need you.”

Jan remained still. The apparition that she knew as Milo terrified her. Her suspicions had been correct all along. He was a sorcerer. No human being could move that fast.

“Jan!” he called again, impatient now. “Don’t just stand there, you idiot! Come here!”

“You’d better go to him,” murmured Lady Jane, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Unwillingly, Jan stepped from behind the throne and went across to him. He eyed her quizzically. “For a moment there I thought you’d gone across to the other side. Here …” He handed her the strange sword, still covered in Dalwyn’s blood. “You hold it with both hands—yes, like that. I want you to protect my back while I work. Anyone comes near, you give a yell and take a swing at them.” Then he turned and began punching the keys on the console, ignoring her completely. She didn’t know what to do. She turned and looked sheepishly at the others. They stared back, some accusingly.

What would have happened next Jan had no idea, but then came sounds of fighting from above. There were shouts and screams and the clanging of metal hitting metal. The body of a Sky Warrior, bearing hideous wounds, suddenly came sliding on its back down the spiral staircase. It was followed by a rush of men. They were of small build, and wore bulky, brightly-coloured robes, armour and helmets. And they were wielding the same sort of swords that Jan was now holding.

Caspar and several others went to meet them and very quickly the scene became one of total confusion. Milo glanced over his shoulder at the melee. “I’m relying on you, little one,” he told Jan over the noise. “Protect my back—I need more time.”

Jan’s mind was in a whirl. She didn’t know what she was doing, or what she would do. Too much was happening at once—everything was out of control. …

She saw Caspar receive a wicked slash across his forearm. His sword dropped from his hand and then he was borne down under the weight of three of his small attackers. They obviously wanted to capture him alive. She could see their faces now. They had smooth, bland features with curiously-shaped eyes that seemed somehow stretched.

More and more of the invaders were pouring down the stairs into the control room and Jan saw that the defenders would soon be overwhelmed. As she waited for the first of the attackers to head in her direction she saw Gorman standing nearby, watching the fighting with a calm expression. Then he turned his attention to her. “What is he doing?” he asked, gesturing at Milo.

“I don’t know,” Jan said.

“I think you do,” he told her. “I knew all along you were up to something. Well, whatever you and that demon had planned, it’s too late now.” He turned and headed towards the helm controls. Jan realized what he planned to do.

“Milo! The Chief Engineer! He’s going to ram the Lord Pangloth into the other airship!”

“What?” He wasn’t listening to her. He was too engrossed with the console. She repeated her warning at the top of her voice. Without looking round, Milo said, “Then kill him.”

“Kill him? Me?”

But he was ignoring her again. Jan turned and saw that Gorman had reached the controls. Hesitantly, she started after him. She wondered what to do. She couldn’t kill him in cold blood; maybe she could knock him out with the flat edge of the blade. …

Before she could reach him, however, one of the invaders leapt forward. Just as Gorman began to manipulate the first of the levers the attacker slashed him across the back of his neck with his sword. Gorman slumped forward across the controls.

Jan turned back to Milo and saw three invaders converging on him. He seemed oblivious of their presence. “Milo!” she cried. “Behind you!”

Almost reluctantly, Milo turned from the console. The nearest of the three invaders was already rushing at him, sword raised. Milo blurred again. Then, somehow, the attacker was on the deck, writhing, and Milo had his sword. The sword flashed downwards. …

Then he was facing the other two. They rushed him together, letting out high-pitched cries, their swords held ready. Again Milo blurred. Both attackers fell. One died swiftly, his throat sliced open; the other sat contemplating uncomprehendingly the mass of steaming intestine that lay between his legs.

Other invaders were converging on Milo now but, with the evidence of his prowess impossible to ignore, they moved much more warily. Milo gestured to Jan. “Here, quickly!”

As she stepped up beside him he again handed her the sword. “Keep them off me,” he ordered. “I need just a little more time.”

“Are you crazy?” she said hoarsely. “I can’t do what you just did!”

“Just look as if you can. Bluff, girl, bluff.” He turned back to the console.

Jan faced the half-circle of converging invaders. Their expressions were fierce but their eyes were watchful, cautious. She held the sword the same way they were holding theirs, in both hands and with the blade raised at an angle in front of her right shoulder. She tried to look fierce as well, but she had no idea what to do if one of them should lunge at her. She was used to an entirely different style of fencing—the invaders’ method was all hack and slash and she doubted her chances of parrying even a single one of their blows.

All the other fighting in the control room had ceased. Most of the Engineers lay dead but the Aristos, with a few exceptions, had been taken alive. Jan glimpsed Lady Jane on her knees between two of the invaders. In front of her lay another invader, her dagger protruding from under his chin.

The half-circle was closing in on her. Then, with a nerve-shattering yell, one of the warriors lunged at her. She parried the downward blow of his sword more by instinct than skill, then jumped back just in time to avoid a vicious sideswipe that would have cut deep into her waist. “Milo …” she cried as the warrior lunged again.

“Eureka!” she heard Milo exclaim behind her just before the two blades met with a ringing clang. This time she knew it was pure luck that she managed to prevent her skull being sliced in two. And now the warrior’s blade was flashing at her from an angle she had no chance of blocking.

She was wrenched backwards with a jolt. At the same time the sword was snatched out of her hands. The next thing she knew Milo was in front of her. And then he wasn’t—he was suddenly to her right. The warrior who’d attacked her was falling backwards, arms flung wide, his metal breast-plate split open to reveal a gory chasm in his chest. The other warriors had no time to react before Milo was moving through them. They might as well have been ears of wheat rooted to the ground for all the hope they had of avoiding his whirling blade. Blood sprayed into the air and mingled with their death screams.

Then it was all over. Corpses—some butchered beyond all semblance to humanity—lay scattered about in large pools of blood. Milo was in focus again. He lowered his sword and looked around the control room. The remaining invaders and their Aristo captives regarded him in fearful silence. He turned to Jan. Wiping blood from his face he grinned at her. The insane look was back in his eyes. Distended veins pulsed at the sides of his neck and temples. “I think I’ve got their attention,” he told her. Turning his back on all the others he went to the console. Jan saw that the screen was full of lines of symbols and letters. A blip on the top right-hand corner of the screen was flashing urgently. “There it is,” said Milo triumphantly. “Just what I needed to know. Step One has been accomplished; now the going may get a little difficult before we succeed with Step Two. Watch your eyes.”

His last words confused her until, in another blur of movement, he brought his sword down on the console. There was an explosion of sparks as the blade cut through it. Jan gasped, then said, “Why did you destroy it?”

“I have all I need to know from it. I don’t want someone else learning the same thing.”

He turned as footsteps sounded again on the spiral staircase. Jan turned too. More of the invaders were coming down into the control room: warriors, but also one man who, to judge by his ornate armour and jagged winged helmet, held high rank. The warriors parted as he strutted forward, barking out questions. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw the corpses strewn in front of Milo. He stared at Milo, then barked out more questions to the surrounding warriors. One pointed at Milo and said something to the newcomer in a deferential voice. The newcomer’s eyebrows, which were thin black lines, slowly rose. Then he said something that was obviously a command. The warrior who had answered his questions suddenly looked very unhappy and reluctantly took a step forward.

Milo sighed. “The officer wants to see for himself. Bastard.” The warrior lunged at Milo with a yell. Milo killed him. The newcomer looked suitably impressed. Then his expression turned to surprise as Milo addressed him in his own language.

The exchange was a short one. It ended with the officer nodding violently, then turning and heading back towards the staircase at a run. As he bounded up the stairs, followed by two of his warriors, Jan said wonderingly to Milo, “You speak their language?”

“Only a bit. Had to learn it for business reasons a long time ago. Back when the Japanese dominated the international economy.”

“Japanese?” she asked.

“Yep. That’s who this lot are. I told you about them before. They’re the ones who liked eating squid so much. Also xenophobic as hell. One of the few nations that didn’t fragment after the Prime Standard ruling. …” He was interrupted suddenly by Lady Jane saying in a calm, clear voice, “You, demon, sorcerer or whatever you are!” One of the two warriors holding her immediately gave her a hard slap across the side of her face but she continued to speak to Milo: “Why don’t you kill the rest of these yellow monsters?”

Milo smiled at her. “Why should I, your Royal Ladyship?” he asked mockingly.

“Help us regain control of the Lord Pangloth … uh!” Her head rocked back as she was struck again, harder, but she kept talking, “Help us, and you can name your price. Anything at all. …” She was struck again. Blood began to trickle from a split in her lower lip.

“I’m already making a bargain,” Milo told her jovially, “but not with you. You and the rest of your group of costumed fools are already extinct. You’ve been extinct for a long time, you just didn’t realize it. But now you’re about to find out. …” More officers were coming down the stairs, led by the one who’d spoken to Milo. Orders were shouted and the. Aristos were herded towards the stairway. The officers approached Milo but halted at a respectful distance from him. One, more ornately dressed than the others, addressed him in a series of short, staccato words. Milo answered him, then pointed at the smoking ruins of the computer terminal. The officer looked at it and then back at Milo. He frowned, then gave a curt nod of his head. He turned on his heel and strode off. The other officers followed him, with the exception of two who remained to watch Milo and Jan.

“What’s happening?” she whispered to him.

“As I said, I’m making a bargain. For our lives.”

“What about Ceri?”

“Ceri? Oh, your little friend from the sea habitat. What about her?”

“Can’t you include her in the bargain you’re making?” Jan asked pleadingly.

His teeth showed white against the blood drying on his face. “Why should I? You’ve told me she loathes me. Besides, she won’t be killed by the Japs. She’s not an Aristo or a Sky Warrior. She’s probably been raped by now but that’s the worst that’ll happen to her.”

Jan flinched. “Please, I beg you, Milo. Try and save her. I don’t want to be parted from her. …”

“Ah, so she’s stirred up your Minervan blood, has she?” he asked. “Well, I’m sorry, it’s out of the question. Just count yourself lucky I’m including you in the deal.”

More of the invaders were entering the control room but these new arrivals, judging from their dress, weren’t warriors. And by the way they excitedly examined the equipment and controls they were the invader equivalent of the Pangloth’s Engineers. And by the way they occasionally cast fearful sidelong glances at Milo and the butchered corpses lying about the deck they were aware of who he was and what he was capable of.

About ten minutes later the original officer returned and, after talking briefly to the other two, gestured at Milo that he should follow him. “Come on,” said Milo to Jan. “Keep close to me and stay calm whatever happens.”

Escorted by the three officers and six warriors they went up the spiral staircase. There were a lot of bodies lying about on the next level as well, but they were all Sky Warriors. From somewhere far off came screams and shouts, but the fighting was definitely over in this part of the Lord Pangloth.

Milo and Jan were taken a short distance along the main corridor that led from the entrance to the control room and then ordered into an Engineer’s latrine. The door was slammed shut behind them but no attempt was made to disarm Milo.

“Phew …” he said and his body suddenly sagged. He dropped the sword to the floor and went to one of the basins. Leaning on its edge he began to splash water on his head and face. His body seemed to shrink as Jan watched.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“No, but I will be, as soon as I get some food. I burned up a lot of my fuel reserves with all those fancy fun and games.” He drank a lot of water, then stripped off his ruined overalls and began washing the blood from his body.

“Are you a sorcerer?” she asked, remembering the terrifying speed with which he had cut through that whole crowd of warriors.

“Me, no,” he answered casually. “But I guess you could say I’m the product of sorcerers. They gave me a super-charged metabolism. My chemistry isn’t like yours—radically different as you are from a pre-Standard Prime you’re still basically, well, er … human.”

“And you’re not?”

“Technically speaking, no.”

“Where was this done to you? Mars?”

He shook his head. “No, a long time ago. Before Mars.”

“Before Mars?” she asked, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Milo yawned. “Later. I’ll explain it all later. Right now I need some sleep.” And to her amazement he lay down on the floor and, using his rolled-up overalls as a pillow, closed his eyes.

“How can you sleep at a time like this?” she cried.

“Because I have to. Need to recharge … won’t take long … pick up sword … wake me if any. …” Then he was asleep.

Jan stared at him for a time, then did as he said. She picked up the sword, sat down facing the door, her back against a wall and the sword resting across her thighs. She felt exhausted as well, but knew she was far too tense to sleep. And also too worried about Ceri.

About two hours passed. During that time there appeared to be a lot of activity outside. The Lord Pangloth shuddered on several occasions and the deck listed each time but she had no idea what this signified.

At the end of the second hour Milo woke abruptly, got up, and quickly donned his tattered and blood-stained garment. “All quiet?” he asked Jan.

“No, but no one’s come in here,” she told him. “How do you feel?”

“Better. But I still need food.” He went to one of the basins and drank more water.

“You were making funny sounds. Towards the end of your sleep,” she told him. “And twitching.”

“Dreams. Bad ones.” He splashed water on his face, wiped it away then straightened up. He looked at her and smiled. It seemed forced to her. Whatever he had dreamed had shaken him. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Not too good,” Jan admitted. “What do you think is going to happen to us?”

“That depends on how good a job I can do convincing whoever controls this bunch of children of the Rising Sun that I have something to offer them that they want.”

“Which is what?”

“I told you—information.”

“Yes, but about what?” she asked impatiently.

Before he could answer there were sounds outside the door. Milo gestured urgently for the sword. She quickly handed it over to him. The door swung open with a bang. An officer stepped warily into the room. Jan wasn’t sure if she’d seen him before or if he was someone new. She had trouble telling these people apart. Four warriors followed him inside. He gave Milo a brief bow of his head and said something very quickly. Milo nodded.

“We’re to go with them,” Milo told Jan. “We’re being honoured with an audience with the top gun himself, their warlord.”

They were led outside and taken up into the Aristo section of the ship. The corridors had been cleared of casualties but there were still pools of congealed blood everywhere she looked. The invaders seemed to be everywhere too, hurrying back and forth along the corridors with the air of people on very important errands. Of the original inhabitants of these quarters, the Aristos, there was no sign. Jan guessed they had all been confined somewhere. Once again she wondered worriedly about Ceri. …

Their destination, she soon realized, was the Grand Saloon, but when she and Milo were ushered inside she saw that it had undergone a major transformation. Coloured banners hung from the ceiling and the floor area had been partitioned off by portable cloth screens on which had been painted scenes of mountains, lakes, unfamiliar-looking trees and other things that Jan didn’t recognize.

“The decorators have moved in already,” muttered Milo.

Their escort gestured them to continue forward. Warriors slid aside the screens as they approached. They progressed through four sets of dividing screens before they entered the final section.

On the dais where Caspar had sat on his throne sat a different man on a different throne. Behind him hung a red banner on which a strange black lizard was depicted spitting fire. At his feet sat two women dressed in peculiar robes, their faces painted a startling white.

But Jan’s attention was fixed on something else. On either side of the warlord’s throne was a spear, and on each spear a severed head had been set.

Jan stared first into the sightless eyes of Prince Caspar and then into those of Lady Jane.

Chapter Twenty

“You wanted vengeance,” murmured Milo in her ear as they approached the dais, “well, there it is, in the raw.”

Jan said nothing. Her gaze was fixed on Caspar’s face. She felt sick. Then the officer in charge of their escort cried something that was obviously the command to halt. They were still about fifteen feet from the dais. Their escort bowed deeply as the man on the throne slowly rose to his feet. He was much taller than the other invaders. The square cut of his robe, like the robes of the warriors, made him look bulkier than he really was, but even so he was an unusually big man. The average Minervan woman would have looked minute beside him.

He looked down on them. The slits of his eyes offered no clue to either his thoughts or his mood. Then he said, in perfect Americano, “Well, well, Milo Haze, it’s been a long time. Where have you been hiding yourself these last four centuries?”

Surprised, Jan glanced at Milo and saw that he was looking mystified as well. Then he frowned as he stared hard at the giant invader. “I know you?” he asked.

“We met a few times at bio-tech conferences. Naturally you wouldn’t recognize me now. I have, of course, changed somewhat.” The tall man gave a brief, thin smile. “You, on the other hand, have changed little. On the outside at least. From what my samurai tell me of your actions you’ve undergone a very sophisticated enhancement.”

Milo nodded. Then, in a wondering tone, he said, “So you’re an immortal too. …”

“I am indeed. And until today I was under the impression I was the last alive. My name is Shumi Horado. Do you recall me now?”

“Horado …” said Milo slowly. “The Horado Corporation. Yes, I do. You were a small man then, balding. …”

The warlord smiled thinly again and touched his chest with his fingertips. “All is vanity, is it not, Mr Haze? I gave myself thirty extra inches of height and a full head of hair. While you chose baldness and eyes that don’t match, plus all your other enhancements. And at the risk of being impolite, it is the latter we must discuss first. You’ll notice that, as an act of faith, I have let you retain that sword you no doubt took by force from one of my warriors. But just in case you harbour any thoughts of using it on me—and I’m sure you don’t—let me assure you that I am protected.”

He clapped his hands. Immediately a screen on each side of them rolled back, revealing warriors holding what seemed to be very small rifles. “Automatic weapons,” said the warlord. “I would say they are the only ones still in working order. I found a cache of them perfectly preserved about eighty years ago. So let me warn you that no matter how fast you can move, Mr Haze, you’ll be dead before you reach me.”

“I have no intention of any such action,” Milo said. “My violent activities with this weapon were designed merely to attract your attention. Though, of course, I had no idea who you were. As you must have been told, I have a proposition for you.”

“Yes, so I was informed.” The warlord clapped his hands again. This time servants emerged from behind the screens carrying small folding stools which they placed behind Jan and Milo. The warlord indicated they should sit down, then returned to his throne. “But before we discuss business, Mr Haze, let us observe some of the old formalities. You and your companion will join me in a cup of sake.” He clapped his hands for the third time.

Jan’s feeling of bewilderment increased as a servant presented a small cup containing clear liquid. What was going on? How did Milo come to know this frightening giant? What was all that talk about being immortal?

She glanced again at Prince Caspar’s head on the spear. His mouth hung open in a silent scream. His lips had gone very white. Not so many hours ago she had been kissing those lips. …

There were other heads. When the screens had been rolled back she had seen that there was a whole row of spears lined in front of the windows on either side. Other screens prevented her from seeing how far the rows of disembodied heads extended but she guessed they went all the way along the sides of the Great Saloon. If that was so then every Aristo was now dead.

She took a sip of the drink. It was bitter and made her eyes water. But the wave of warmth it sent through her body was welcome.

“Your young companion, who is she?” asked the warlord.

She realized, with a start, that he was referring to her.

“Her name is Jan Dorvin. A Minervan. One of the last. The Lord Pangloth destroyed her town. She is now under my protection. Whatever agreement we come to between ourselves applies to her as well.”

The warlord gave a slight shrug. “Whatever you wish.” He stared at her. “A sturdy creature,” he commented. “Not to my taste at all.” He turned back to Milo. “I remember that your reputation with women in the old days assumed the dimension of mythology. One rumour that I heard later astonished even me. About a woman called, let me see, was it Miriam?”

“Miranda,” said Milo stiffly.

“Was there any truth in the rumour?”

“Yes. It was true.”

The warlord chuckled. “As I said, all is vanity, but that is taking it to extremes. What ever happened to her?”

“She died.”

“Forgive me,” the warlord inclined his head. “I see that the subject is still a sensitive one for you despite the passing of so many years. Let us talk instead of how you managed to survive all this time.”

“I got off the planet,” said Milo. “Managed to get a seat in one of the last shuttles before the off-Earth communities imposed their quarantine. Went to the Belvedere space habitat.”

“Belvedere. Ah yes, the first and biggest of the habitats,” said the warlord. “It still exists? I used to listen in on transmissions from Belvedere and the other habitats years ago but our radio equipment has long since fallen into disrepair.”

“Belvedere still exists. So do the other three habitats and the Martian colonies. The lunar colonies died out long ago. There was no way they could become self-sufficient, and the other off-Earth communities couldn’t spare the resources to assist them.”

“And how long did you stay on Belvedere?”

“As long as I could. Until I ran into the inevitable problem. The problem of being immortal, of course.”

“The Belvederians didn’t have a liberal attitude in that area?”

“On the contrary. And besides, if they discovered I was an immortal they would automatically have identified me as a high executive in one of the gene corporations or a head of state. I’d have been executed one way or the other—either as an illegal immortal or a war criminal.”

“So your solution was?” asked the warlord.

“There is regular, if not frequent, traffic between the off-Earth communities. I did a few of these trips as a volunteer crewman to one of the other space habitats—Creuse City. Then, when an opportunity came up to do a trip to the Mars colony I took it. It was a long voyage.” Milo sighed. “What I did I had to do. My survival was at stake.” He looked at the warlord. “You understand?”

“I do indeed.”

Milo glanced briefly at Jan then continued. “There were six of us on board. I was the only one to reach Mars alive. My story was that an emergency decompression—caused by a micro-meteor penetration—killed the others. I happened to be doing maintenance work in the airlock at the time and was wearing my suit. My story was believed.”

The warlord said, “But how had your situation improved? With Belvedere and the Martian colony in radio contact the Martian colonists would have known who you were and, most important, how old you were.”

“I switched identities with one of the other crew members. As far as the Belvederians were concerned I was dead.”

“And the deception was never discovered?”

Milo shook his head. “The Belvederians wanted the survivor sent back to Belvedere to take part in a court of enquiry but I asked for political asylum on Mars. There are political differences, you see, between Mars and Belvedere. The Martians refused to extradite me, saying that the results of their own enquiry on the tragedy should be enough to satisfy the Belvederians.”

“And so you remained on Mars.”

“For as long as I could,” said Milo. “Until, finally, the same problem arose. I was getting within a few years of my 200th birthday again.”

“And your solution on this occasion?”

“Much the same as before. I campaigned for an expedition to Starshine, the last of the space habitats to be established. It was to be a trading mission. We knew they had succeeded in synthesizing a wide range of drugs that we’d long ago run out of on Mars. We, on the other hand, would take them plant seeds to improve the crop strains in their hydroponic gardens. The expedition wasn’t really necessary, of course, and drained the colony of much-needed resources, but by then I had attained a position of some influence.”

The warlord gave an approving nod.

“The ship never reached Starshine,” said Milo. “I couldn’t allow it to. Starshine and Belvedere had formed an alliance. There was a lot of traffic between the two and I couldn’t take the risk of encountering someone from Belvedere or Starshine who had been alive when I’d left the habitat a hundred and sixty years before. Unlikely but a distinct, and dangerous, possibility.”

“So what misfortune befell this expedition?” asked the warlord.

“A rupture in the main fuel tank. No way could we reach Starshine, but we did have enough fuel to nudge ourselves towards the Earth and let its gravity do the rest. But the ship wasn’t designed to enter the Earth’s heavy atmosphere and broke up on the way down. I and some of the crew landed in the sea in an escape pod. We drifted a long time and the others, not possessing my, er, special qualities, died. I was picked up by a sea habitat. I lived on it until it was attacked by the Lord Pangloth and I was captured. And that’s it, until you arrived.”

Jan knew he was not telling everything. Ceri had said that it was Milo who had convinced the sea habitat people to move closer to land. Why? He must have had a reason.

The warlord considered Milo carefully. Then he said, “And during your time on the Lord Pangloth you have discovered something that you feel will be of great value to me. I confess I am curious as to its nature.”

Milo smiled at him. Jan knew that smile. It was the one she didn’t like. “Before I tell you,” said Milo, “I want to hear of your adventures over the years.”

The warlord made a nonchalant gesture with his hands. “Mr Haze, compared to you I have lived a life of infinite dullness since the Gene Wars. Once I established myself on the Perfumed Breeze, admittedly an achievement of some difficulty and much regrettable bloodshed, I was out of danger. With total power in my hands my immortality was no longer a problem. The traditional Japanese predilection for obedience towards authority worked in my favour, of course. And I helped the situation by cultivating my own modified version of Bushido which, among other things, conferred godhood upon myself. My subjects therefore expect me to be immortal. The advantage, Mr Haze, of living within a society that has culturally regressed as opposed to living with your outer space technocrats.”

“You were fortunate,” agreed Milo.

The warlord glanced in the direction of Prince Caspar’s severed head, then gestured at the long row of Aristo heads. “It is curious, is it not, that these Americanos also appeared to have regressed culturally? I am at a loss, I admit, to understand why they seem to have adopted a vaguely medieval European lifestyle when such a society would not be in the American cultural memory. Perhaps, as an Americano yourself, you can explain this mystery to me.”

“Old movies,” said Milo dismissively. “You’re right, it’s not a genuine cultural regression. All the furniture and other crap came out of old movies.” He went on to explain to the warlord about the series of fantasy ‘entertainments’ that Jan had seen.

The warlord laughed. “How typically Americano,” he said. Then he reached over to Lady Jane’s head and brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

“Stop that!”

No one was more surprised that Jan herself when she heard her voice ring out. An unsettling silence followed as the warlord slowly turned his head towards her. She heard Milo sigh, then say, “Please excuse my companion. Her manners leave much to be desired. Also, she knew the deceased on your left, er, intimately.”

The warlord turned his gaze to Milo. “A Minervan captor was on intimate terms with one of the rulers of the Lord Pangloth?” he asked, sounding mildly surprised. “How did that occur?”

“Well, it’s a long but rather interesting story …” began Milo.

Jan felt another rush of anger. They were still talking as if she wasn’t there, and though the warlord intimidated her, and she knew it would be wise to act with caution in his presence, she couldn’t help speaking out again: “Isn’t it enough that you’ve murdered all these people? Do you have to treat their remains with disrespect as well?”

Again the warlord’s head swivelled slowly in her direction. Another long silence, punctuated only by Milo’s barely audible mutter of, “Jesus. …” Then the warlord said to Jan, “Girl, for your impertinence I could order you to be taken from here and taken to a room where you would be tied to a wooden frame. Your skin would then be flayed from your body. Every inch of your skin. The operation would be performed with great finesse, your skin being removed in one complete piece. Your raw flesh would then be covered in salt and your skin replaced around your body and sewn up. You would then be brought back in here to me and, if I considered your apology to be suitably contrite, I would favour you with a quick death. One clap of my hands is all that it would take to initiate the procedure. …” He raised his hands, held them apart for several long moments, then let them fall back to his lap. “However, I will be merciful, for two reasons. One is that you are under Milo Haze’s protection and it would be inhospitable of me to put him in such an awkward position. The second is that you are ignorant of your proper place, as a woman, in my domain and were therefore unaware of the gravity of your offence against me.” He turned back to Milo. “Please continue with what you were about to say.”

As Milo quickly recounted the events surrounding Jan’s attempt to blow up the Lord Pangloth, her subsequent encounter with the Hazzini, and her resulting adoption by the Aristos, Jan waited for the frantic pounding of her heart to subside. She had no doubt that the warlord had been a hair’s breadth away from carrying out his threat.

When Milo finished, the warlord turned to her again and her flesh went cold under his relentless gaze. Whether there was now a touch of new respect for her in those expressionless eyes it was impossible to tell. He spoke, “You had the temerity to rebuke me for the execution of these people—your former enemies—and yet you were prepared to destroy the entire airship and everyone on it.”

She opened her mouth to reply then abruptly closed it.

“You may speak,” he told her.

Warily, she said, “I couldn’t do it when it came down to it. I couldn’t kill all those people in cold blood.”

“While I can, is what you are implying.” He shook his head. “You misjudge me. I am not a cruel man. But I had no choice but to eliminate the Lord Pangloth’s ruling class. There was no alternative. And I assure you that, on the whole, they died quickly and cleanly. As for this seemingly barbaric display—” he indicated the heads on either side of him—“it is simply the most effective way of showing representatives from the various factions of Lord Pangloth society that the old order has been irrevocably swept away and that even the idea of any further resistance to me is futility itself.”

He turned back to Milo. “Do you ever suspect that you might be going insane?”

Milo looked startled by the question. It was some moments before he answered, picking his words with obvious care. “Insane? Do I give you the impression I might be… ?”

“The question was directed more towards myself than you,” the warlord said. “There are times when I think I might be insane and I was wondering if it might be a side-effect of immortality. What is your opinion?”

“I haven’t noticed any signs of mental instability in myself,” said Milo slowly. “Nor do I see why immortality would lead to insanity, though perhaps when one has lived for thousands of years one might suffer from emotional strains of an unknown nature. Or perhaps one may become simply bored with life itself.”

“Boredom,” said the warlord thoughtfully. “Yes, I do get bored on occasion but it’s more my tendency towards solipsism that vaguely worries me. I imagine it’s to do with my rarefied way of life. I have been so long acting out the role of god in my kingdom here, with no equal whom I can confide in, that I am slowly coming to accept the role as reality. What do you think?”

Again Milo seemed to pick his words with care. “I suppose there is a danger of that. But the fact that you can be objective about it all shows that you haven’t succumbed to the delusion.”

“Not yet, anyway,” said the warlord with a slight smile. “And I must tell you, Mr Haze, that I am finding today’s encounter with you very diverting. And, no doubt, your presence is providing good mental therapy for me. It is also amusing to talk Americano again after so long. Do you know, I can remember when your language was called English.”

“So can I,” said Milo. “I can even remember England. In fact I paid a visit to London only a month before the disaster.”

“Ah, yes,” said the warlord, nodding. “That reactor. Chernobyl, it was called, wasn’t it?”

“No. That was the one in Russia. Years before. I can’t remember the name of the English one. The difference was that the Russian accident didn’t do too much damage to Russia thanks to the prevailing weather conditions. In England the weather conditions were the exact opposite and the crap came straight down all across Southern England.”

“Such a misfortune,” agreed the warlord. “But compared to the ravages of the blight today the destruction of one small country shrinks in importance.”

“The blight is just as bad in your part of the world?”

“Worse. Which is why the Sky Lords in the East are at war with each other, and why I am over here.”

“I had been wondering why you have made such a long journey,” said Milo.

“I had no choice. As you must be aware, the Perfumed Breeze’s laser defence system no longer functions. It broke down completely several years ago. And my rival Sky Lords in the East discovered this. It would have only been a matter of time before the Perfumed Breeze fell victim to a successful attack from another Sky Lord. So I decided to risk the long flight to another continent where the Perfumed Breeze’s vulnerability would be unknown. My plan was to attack the first Sky Lord I encountered and hope my samurai could overwhelm it before the defenders realized I had no laser protection.” He gave a shrug of his padded shoulders. “The plan worked. By the time the Pangloth’s warriors discovered they could fire shells with impunity into my airship it was too late. My men had reached the guns.”

“A close shave though,” said Milo.

“True, but I must admit I never doubted the outcome.” He smiled. “You see, further evidence of my growing self-delusion of omnipotence.”

“So what will you do now?”

“Establish my base on the Lord Pangloth. Most of the original inhabitants—those who have survived—will be transferred to the Perfumed Breeze where they will, of course, be under my strict but humane control. Then, with my fleet consisting of two ships, I shall take steps to enlarge it further until I control enough tribute areas to ensure the long-term survival of my people—and myself.”

“Makes sense,” said Milo approvingly. “And I hope we can come to an arrangement where my companion and I can share in this bright future of yours. As payment for what I have to offer you, naturally.”

“What form do you see this payment taking?”

“Well, I prefer to see it as a gift. As to its form—” Milo glanced about the Grand Saloon—“it’s all around you. The Lord Pangloth itself would be quite suitable.”

After a long pause the warlord said softly, “And what could you offer that would be worth a whole Sky Lord in return?”

“Why, a brand new Sky Lord, of course,” Milo answered brightly. “A Sky Lord still in its, so to speak, wrapping paper. All new and shiny and full of precious helium. It will perform much more efficiently than any of the existing Sky Lords, all of which are slowly falling to bits, as you well know. And no doubt it will be full of working Old Science devices as well. It will be a virtual flying treasure trove, and it will be all yours.”

The warlord said dryly, “And where exactly do you have this virgin Sky Lord concealed?”

“Not a Sky Lord, a Sky Angel,” corrected Milo. “And her present home is, naturally, in Paradise.” Milo grinned and pointed upwards.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Are you seriously going into partnership with that … that creature?” Jan asked.

Milo continued to stuff food into his mouth, using the two implements he’d referred to as ‘chopsticks’ with dexterity. She waited impatiently for him to answer, pacing up and down the small Aristo servant’s room they’d been given to use. Finally Milo gave a satisfied belch and said, “Ah, marvellous! To eat Japanese food again after all these years. Are you sure you won’t have more? You’ve only eaten a bit of rice.”

“I’m not hungry. Besides, all the other dishes have meat in them.”

“No, not all.” He picked a bowl up off the table and held it out to her. “This is fish.”

She looked at the glistening white chunks of flesh and grimaced. “Fish meat is still meat.”

“True,” he said, and put a piece of it in his mouth. She looked away in disgust. “Are you going to answer my question?” she demanded.

“All in good time,” he told her. “So why don’t you just sit down and try and relax. Today’s events have come to a very satisfactory conclusion.”

“For you, perhaps.”

“And you too. For one thing you’ve still got your skin, despite your best efforts to lose it. I could have killed you myself when you started your crazy yapping.”

“I couldn’t help it. He made me furious the way he touched Lady Jane’s head, like it was just some toy of his.”

“Lady Jane was past caring, so why should it bother you?” asked Milo as he ate more of the fish.

“Don’t you have any respect for the dead?” she asked coldly.

“I don’t have much respect for the living, so why should I treat the dead differently?” he said and smiled.

Jan looked down at him and nodded. “Yes, you’re no different from him, really. You’re both murderers; he just does his killing on a grander scale.”

“That’s no way to speak to your protector,” he replied brightly. “If it hadn’t been for me you’d be suffering the agonies of the damned right now. He meant what he said about flaying you, you know; he wasn’t just trying to scare you.”

“Yes, I know,” Jan said and shivered. She wrapped her arms around herself.

Milo gave her a leering grin. “It would have been a tragedy if he’d had his threat carried out. Your skin is one of your best features. A pity, though, that you have chosen to cover most of it once again. I much preferred you in Aristo garb.”

“Well, I didn’t.” When she and Milo had been brought to this cabin she had asked him to put in a request with their escort for a change of clothing. At first they had brought her a complicated gown similar to the ones worn by the women who’d been seated at the feet of the warlord. They had been puzzled when she’d refused it and asked instead for man’s clothing. The second time they brought her the garments she was now wearing; loose fitting jacket and trousers, both in black. The only problem was that there were no buttons or other fasteners on the jacket and the only means of keeping it closed was a cloth belt which was inadequate for the task. Still, the clothes felt very comfortable after the constraining Aristo gowns and dresses.

Milo finished the fish and picked up another bowl. “Seaweed,” he said approvingly. “Now this you can eat without violating any of your Minervan principles.”

“I told you I don’t have any appetite. I’m too tense, and worried.”

“What is there to be worried about? We’re in no immediate danger, we have food, shelter and a warm bed. And everything is going as I planned.”

“I’m not worried about me so much as about Ceri,” she told him. “Why can’t you do as I asked and see if you can find out if she’s safe?”

“Because I’ve asked enough favours from the warlord and his minions for the time being. I don’t want to push my luck by pestering him over the whereabouts of a servant girl, even if she is your little bedmate.”

“She is not,” snapped Jan, feeling her face redden.

Milo laughed. “You should see yourself, amazon. The full flush of love. My, what an active sex life you’ve led these past few months—with Prince Caspar, Lady Jane and your precious sea nymph. How different from that sexually reticent little Minervan first encountered the day you came on board the Lord Pangloth.”

“You know why I slept with Caspar and Lady Jane,” she said angrily. “And you’re wrong about Ceri. Yes, I admit I’m in love with her, but we’re not lovers. It’s her choice, not mine.”

“You’ve never slept with her?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“That’s none of your business.”

“I thought so,” he said and laughed again.

Jan fought to keep control of her temper. “Milo, please. I’m begging you to help me find out what’s happened to her.”

Milo put down his chopsticks—all the bowls were empty now—and eyed her speculatively. “Very well,” he said finally. “But in return I want to make love to you. Now. On there.” He pointed at the bed. “What do you say?”

The thought of being in intimate contact with Milo caused a spasm of revulsion to pass through her body. Her automatic reaction was to cry no but she held back—she had to think of Ceri. After a long hesitation she said, thickly, “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why do I detect such extreme reluctance? What is it about me that you find so unpalatable? You were, after all, able to overcome your Minervan sexual mores when it came to sleeping with Prince Caspar, a man who had a large share of the responsibility for destroying your people. Do you, perhaps, find me physically offensive? It can’t be my smell because I don’t have any.”

Jan did find him physically offensive, but she couldn’t say why exactly. And it wasn’t just his body, but him in total. The more she knew of him the more he unsettled her; the more her conviction grew that he was right when he described himself as no longer being human. He seemed to take pride in this fact, but it awoke in her an atavistic fear … and a sense of revulsion.

“Well?” he asked, impatiently.

“Look, I’m willing to make love to you in return for you finding Ceri, so let’s leave my personal feelings out of it. You’ve never shown much regard for them before, so why start now?” She began undoing the knot in her cloth belt.

Milo held up a hand and said wearily, “Don’t bother. I was just testing you. For fun. I used up so much of myself today that my libido is as dead as a flat battery. I could no more make love to you now that I could fly. Nothing personal.”

She felt a simultaneous rush of relief and disappointment. “What about Ceri then?”

“Forget her,” he said coldly. “If she’s still alive she’s no doubt been transferred to the Perfumed Breeze by now.” He gestured at the lights of the other Sky Lord visible through the small window. The two great airships now floated side by side, secured by a network of cables. Flimsy wooden gangways connected the two hulls and earlier Jan and Milo had watched an exodus take place as streams of the Lord Pangloth’s defeated subjects were herded along these gangways into the Perfumed Breeze.

“You bastard,” said Jan, her eyes stinging. “You cruel bastard. How can I forget her? She means everything to me.”

Milo poured himself a glass of the drink called sake. He drained the cup, then said to her, “You’re going to have to be realistic. I’m risking my plans by even including you in them. There is no way three of us could make it.”

“Make it? Make it where?” she asked, frowning.

“Down to the ground. We’re going to jump ship. Not yet, of course, but in two days’ time when we’re approaching the ruins of the Armstrong spaceport.”

Jan was confused. “But why? I thought that was the place you wanted to reach. You told the warlord the communication device was located there.”

“You’re still so naive, Jan, in spite of everything,” he said with a sigh. “Do you think I would actually trust that man? As soon as he got what he wanted he would order my execution. I can imagine how it would happen too—he would invite me to have a celebratory meal or drink with him and suddenly those warriors of his with the automatic guns would appear and riddle me with bullets.” Milo smiled approvingly at the thought. “Besides, he is clearly operating with most of his lights out.”

“What?”

“I mean that his suspicions about his increasingly tenuous hold on reality are correct.” Milo poured more sake into his cup.

“I don’t understand,” Jan said. “All that you told him about the Sky Lord you saw up in the sky—wasn’t that true?”

“Oh yes. Every word.”

Milo had described to the warlord how he and the other people on the spacecraft from Mars had made their discovery. “It was after I had sabotaged the main fuel tank and the decision had been made to give up any hope of trying to make it to Starshine and to head for Earth instead. We were still about 15,000 miles away when we picked up a large object ahead of us on our radar. It was so big we thought it might be another habitat, even though there was no record of a fifth space habitat being built. Then our computer dredged up the solution to the mystery from its files. The object was Paradise, the name given to the huge factory facility where the Sky Angels had been constructed.”

“An argument broke out among us,” Milo had continued. “The majority wanted to use some of our remaining precious fuel to alter course and intercept Paradise. The idea was that the facility might contain stores of fuel that we could use. I argued against it, of course, because the last thing I wanted was to continue the journey to Starshine. But I was out-voted and had no option but to let the others do as they wanted.

“I had to admit, when we finally got into a matching orbit with the facility and drew closer to it, that Paradise was an impressive sight. A vast skeletal cylinder about a mile and a half in length and surrounded by an array of solar receptors. But the really astonishing thing was what we could see inside it—a Sky Angel.

“Then we got another surprise. As we got nearer to it we got a radio call from Paradise asking who we were. For a terrible moment I thought the place was inhabited, but it turned out to be a computer sending the signal. We identified ourselves and asked permission to dock, but when we couldn’t produce—not surprisingly—the correct authorization code the computer denied us permission.

“Meanwhile I was digging around in my dim memories about Paradise and getting some results. I remembered that Paradise had always operated almost completely automatically. There had been a few human supervisors around, but the construction of the Sky Angels had been done by robots under the control of a central computer.

“I also remembered that the facility had been abandoned well before the Gene Wars, when the demand for further Sky Angels seemed to have disappeared due to improving conditions in the Third World, thanks to the gene revolution. But I certainly didn’t remember anything about a finished Sky Angel being left in the facility.

“The only possible solution to the mystery was that the computer had continued with its construction program after the humans had gone. The facility was certainly alive on every level—the electromagnetic anti-meteor umbrella was still functioning and when we got closer we observed spider-like robots scuttling about the factory and on the hull of the Sky Angel itself. Also, when we made an attempt to dock on the facility the computer carried out evasive manoeuvres, making docking impossible. As we were running out of fuel we had no choice but to give up and continue onwards towards Earth, much to my relief.

“But in the years since then I’ve thought a lot about that virgin Angel up there. And something occurred to me. That computer running the facility is waiting for a signal from Earth telling it to send its finished Sky Angel off to its destination. The descent procedure, I remember, is also automatic. So, send the right signal, wait awhile, and then, lo and behold, a brand new Sky Angel will descend towards you from the sky. The problem, of course, is finding the right signal and the means of sending it.”

“And you believe you have a solution?” the warlord had asked Milo.

“I do now,” Milo replied. “Another thing I remembered about the Sky Angels was that they were controlled by a United Nations command centre. All I had to do was discover the whereabouts of the place, travel there and then beam the appropriate command up to Paradise.”

“But how do you know this command centre is still capable of functioning after all this time?” the warlord asked.

“Because I’ve established contact with it. Or rather with the computer running it. That’s what I was doing in the Pangloth’s control room when your warriors arrived. Ever since I was brought on board this airship I’d been trying to devise a method of getting access to the control room. I thought there was a chance that the Pangloth’s computer still had a communication link with the command centre. Trouble was I couldn’t think of a way, but then my little companion here came along and ingratiated herself with the Aristos. Through her I discovered a working terminal in the control room, which was very encouraging, but none of the variations on the possible access codes for getting a response from the command computer bore fruit. Either the command computer was ignoring the signal, or the signal wasn’t getting through because of faulty equipment on either the Pangloth or at the centre. I realized the hit-and-miss approach through Jan was going to take forever—I still needed to get to that terminal myself.”

“And when you and your Perfumed Breeze arrived on the scene today,” Milo told the warlord, “I at last had the perfect opportunity. It didn’t take me long to try all the various codes, and I received a response from the centre’s computer, just as I hoped. So I asked it where it was and it told me. The command centre is located at the Armstrong spaceport, which is only about twenty-four hours’ flying time from here on the East coast. Once we’ve come to an arrangement I’ll give you the exact coordinates.”

The warlord asked, “But when we reach this command centre, how will you discover what the signal is that will bring the new Sky Lord to Earth?”

“That information will be stored somewhere in the centre’s computer. Given time I’m sure I’ll be able to coax it out. So what do you say, Shumi Horado, warlord of the skies; do we have a deal?”

The warlord had, of course, said yes.

“… But if everything you told him was the truth, you’ll just be giving him the new airship for nothing,” said Jan, mystified.

“Ah, well, not everything was the truth,” Milo said, with a smile. “The command centre isn’t at the Armstrong spaceport, it’s actually in a nearby city. At the top of a building called the Sky Tower. I remember it now. Very distinctive. Should be easy to find once we get to the city.”

Jan’s shoulder’s slumped. Fatigue was suddenly overwhelming her. She sat down in a chair and said wearily to Milo, “And just how are we going to reach this city?”

“We’re going to fly there.”

“Oh really? In what? Do you have a third Sky Lord salted away somewhere?”

“We’re going to fly to the city in one of those Jap gliders.”

“Oh Mother God, you’re serious. …”

He nodded.

“They looked incredibly dangerous.”

“Nonsense. They’re great sport. I used to fly in similar gliders once upon a time just for fun. We called them hang-gliders. Of course, that was before I had myself immortalized. Couldn’t take the risk then. …”

“What risk? You said they weren’t dangerous.”

“Well, accidents happen. When you become immortal your attitude to taking risks changes. You have more to lose.”

“I can imagine,” she said dryly. Then another thought occurred to her. “You intend for us to enter a city! What about the plague spores?”

Milo shrugged. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take. But with luck we won’t have to touch down on the ground. We’ll land right on the Sky Tower.”

“A risk. You’ve just told me you avoid taking risks,” she pointed out.

“It’s not possible to avoid all risks in this life,” he said blandly.

Jan gave him a suspicious look. “Why do I get the feeling that I’ll be the only one at risk from the plague spores? Would I be right in thinking that your immortality comes with a totally effective immune system?”

“I doubt if such a thing is possible,” he replied, “But yes, I do admit that my immune system is more efficient than yours. But don’t worry, the chances of our encountering an active plague area are probably very remote.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” she muttered.

Milo yawned. “Anyway, that’s the reason why you might as well put Ceri out of your mind. The glider will only take two of us.”

“I’m not going to put her out of my mind,” Jan said firmly.

“Very well then. Stay behind here if you like. I’m sure you will enjoy life as a geisha girl, tending to the wants of Horado’s samurai. If you thought life as a woman under the Aristos was bad enough, wait until you experience the Japanese variety.”

Jan didn’t need to be told that. The little she’d so far seen of life in Horado’s society was enough to convince her that women had no status at all at any level. They were totally subservient to the men.

“Well?” asked Milo.

“No, I don’t want to stay here,” she admitted. “But I can’t just abandon Ceri. I can’t. …”

Milo ran his fingers over his scalp and frowned. “Look,” he said eventually, “I can’t guarantee it, but maybe there’s a chance we can buy her off Horado later.”

“How do you mean?” she asked hopefully.

“Well, when we get control of our Sky Angel maybe we can do a deal with Horado. Offer him some Old Science technology in return for your sea nymph?”

“You really think he’d agree to that?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Milo. “But remember, I’m not guaranteeing anything.”

Jan stared hard at him. “Milo,” she said slowly, “I want you to promise me—swear to me on whatever you hold sacred—that if everything goes as you plan you will try to do what you just said about Ceri.”

Sighing, he said, “Very well, you have my sincere promise. Now let’s put an end to this talk and go to bed. I still need a lot more sleep.” He stood up and began to remove the kimono. “You can share the bed with me if you like. As I told you, I’m presently incapable of sex, so you can rest easy.”

“If you don’t mind,” she told him. “I’d prefer to sleep by myself. On the floor.”

Milo shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Wearing nothing but a loincloth-like undergarment, he climbed into the single bed then reached up and dimmed the lights.

Jan remained in the chair. After a while she said, “Milo, why are you taking me with you.”

“We’re partners, remember. We have an agreement. You helped me and now I’ll help you.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’ve ever made a habit of keeping your side of any bargain. You don’t need me any more, so you could easily leave me here.”

“Who says I don’t need you any more?”

“Milo, I’m never going to be your lover.”

After a silence he said, “We’ll see. Stranger things have happened.”

Jan sat there in the darkness for some time, then she spoke again. “Milo?”

“What is it now? I’m trying to sleep.”

“The warlord. He mentioned a woman. Miranda. Who was she?”

Milo didn’t answer for a long time. Then he said, “She was someone special to me.”

“You were in love with her?”

“There’s no such thing as love, but, yes, I cared about her more than I’ve ever cared about anyone else apart from myself.”

“What made her so special to you?”

“Because she was me.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Are you mad? You can’t stay here! It’s too dangerous! We’ve got to leave, and soon. The morons have already destroyed my corporation headquarters! They’ll come here next!”

Milo and Miranda were in the Sea Room. Holographic screens created the illusion of being on the beach of a tropical South Sea island. Sound effects and concealed heat lamps added to the illusion. Miranda, wearing the jacket and trousers from a man’s ancient, and very valuable dinner suit, was reclining languidly in a hammock strung between two palm trees. She sucked on the straw protruding from the replica coconut then said calmly, “I mean it, Milo. I’m not coming with you. I’m staying. I’ll be safe here, for the time being at least. The estate is well-defended. After that, well, I don’t know where I’ll go. But I’ll survive somehow.”

Milo stared at her in disbelief. “What’s got into you? You know you couldn’t survive on your own. You’re coming with me and that’s that. So get up and start packing a bag.”

She made a slurping sound through the straw, then said, “Milo, you don’t seem to be taking in what I’m telling you. I’m saying that I don’t want to be with you any more. Do you understand?”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “You can’t live without me! I’m your whole life! For God’s sake, I created you!”

She suddenly flung the fake coconut at his head. He ducked and it hurtled across the beach and vanished into one of the holographic projections. Then came the sound of breaking glass. Miranda jumped out of the hammock and pointed an accusing finger at Milo. “Yes!” she screamed. “Say it again! Tell me yet again what I owe you! That’s all I’ve heard during my short life—that the great Milo Haze took a rib from his own perfect body and created the perfect woman. The perfect woman for Milo Haze, that is! A woman made in his image!” Her face had become contorted with rage and her chest was heaving violently.

Milo was startled by the intensity of her anger. “All right, all right …” he said soothingly. “Take it easy. You’ve been under a lot of stress recently and it’s understandable you’re upset. I know you don’t know what you’re saying. You still love me as much as I love you.” He stepped close to her, put his hands under her open dinner jacket and caressed her breasts. Miranda knocked his hands away and moved backwards.

“I don’t love you! And you don’t love me! You only love yourself!” she cried scornfully. “That’s the whole point! The whole point of my existence! When we’re in bed we’re not really making love together—there’s just you masturbating with yourself.”

“Don’t speak this way, Miranda,” he said coldly.

“Isn’t science wonderful?” she continued in the same scornful tone. “Once all a man needed was his hand but now, for a mere billion dollars or so, he can get something like me—a female clone of himself, nurtured in an artificial womb, subjected to accelerated growth and force-fed with hand-me-down memories, all within a span of six years. The ultimate jerk-off apparatus for the man with an over-sized Narcissus complex. Yes, that’s what I call progress!”

Her words stung him. “Miranda, I don’t see you that way. You’re as real as I am. …”

“Oh, thank you very much,” she said sarcastically. “Coming from you that’s a real compliment.”

Milo took a deep breath. He wanted to grab Miranda and shake that smug, condescending expression off her face, but he knew it would be unwise to lose his temper. This strange attitude of hers had to be some temporary emotional aberration which he should be able to talk her out of if he kept calm. He said seriously, “Miranda, we have a special relationship—a unique one. We have a relationship closer than any other couple alive.”

“If we’re as close as it’s possible for two people to be then God help humanity,” she said mockingly.

“You can’t deny it!” he told her. “You love me just as much as I love you. You have no choice, you were. …” He didn’t go on, realizing he’d made a mistake.

She finished the sentence for him. “… conditioned to love you. Yes, I’m well aware of that, Milo. And I did love you once. But the conditioning doesn’t work any more. It doesn’t work because you’re no longer the same man.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about all those ‘enhancements’ you’ve undergone. They’ve had a cumulative effect on you. They’ve changed you in ways you didn’t anticipate. In fact, I’m beginning to feel you’re not even human any more.”

“What crap!” he cried. “You must be drunk!”

“No, I’m not. I’m telling you the truth. You’ve passed over some invisible dividing line between being human and being something else. You’ve re-designed yourself right out of the human race, Milo.”

“Nonsense! I admit I’ve changed, but I’m still human!” he told her fiercely.

“Human?” she asked. “What human being can’t feel pain? What human being is incapable of feeling fear? Panic? Terror?”

“So why does the absence of those human flaws make me less human? Why should humanity be defined by the ability to experience pain, fear and terror?”

“I can give you lots of reasons, but the main one is that if you can’t feel pain or fear yourself you can’t empathize with the rest of us who can. And that makes you no longer one of us. You’ve cut yourself off from the rest of humanity.”

Milo shook his head. “No, no, you don’t understand. I remember only too well what it was like to suffer from those afflictions of so-called humanity. But just because I’m free of them now doesn’t make me inhuman. If anything, I feel even more pity for the rest of you! You don’t know what you’re missing, Miranda. Since my last series of enhancements I feel completely liberated. And you could have been like me too if you hadn’t been so stupid.”

“I thank you again for the gift of immortality, Milo, but all those other gifts you offered were of no interest to me.”

“One day you’ll regret that you rejected them,” he told her coldly.

“That day will never come, Milo, I promise you. I may be just a genetic echo of you but I am still human. And I want to stay that way.”

He felt his control of his temper start to slip. It took all his strength of will to keep his hands off her. “I keep telling you—I am human. Superhuman, yes, but basically still human.”

“You may think you are, Milo, but you’re not. You can’t see what you’ve become. The human personality is the product of an infinitely complicated and sophisticated biological process and science has a long way to go before it unravels them. You can’t just chop great chunks out of the system—as your genegineers did with you—without destroying something vital. …” Miranda nodded agreement with herself. “Yes … yes … that’s it. In a sense you’ve killed yourself, Milo.” Suddenly she laughed. “It’s ironic, actually. All that money and effort to turn yourself into a superman, but by doing so you’ve committed a form of suicide. You’re walking around thinking you’re immortal but you’re dead inside and the ants are already feeding on your soul.”

“Shut up!” he exploded, raising his hand as if to hit her. “I won’t listen to this superstitious crap! Now, for the last time, are you coming with me or not?”

“No, Milo. Because I just can’t stand being in your presence any more. It’s not just your altered personality, it’s physical as well. Those ‘enhancements’ of yours again, they’ve screwed you up on some subtle level. I’m telling you the truth when I say that you physically revolt me. And I mean that with every one of your cells in my body.”

Milo slowly lowered his hand. He stared at her for a long time in silence, then turned and strode off down the ‘beach’. He passed through one of the holographic projections and then out of the door. He took the elevator straight to the flipper garage on the roof. One of the smaller house cyberoids met him as he entered the garage. “Good evening, Mr Haze. Are you going out?”

“Yes,” he said curtly as he headed for his flipper. He had no fixed plan in mind, only a vague idea about getting out of the state. After that? Well, with the way the newer plagues were spreading maybe he should think about getting off the planet itself.

“It’s a pleasant night for a flight,” said the cyberoid, following him.

“Certainly is,” said Milo and smiled bleakly. He was about to climb into his flipper when a thought occurred to him. He looked at Miranda’s flipper parked on the other side of the garage then pointed to it. “Disable that vehicle,” he ordered. “Open the maintenance access panel and destroy the drive unit.”

“But sir,” said the cyberoid in its flat, polite purr. “It is part of the property I am programmed to protect.”

“And I’m overriding your programmed instructions. Do as I say.”

“Very well, sir.” The cyberoid walked over to Miranda’s flipper, opened the rear access panel to the drive and extended its articulated manipulator inside. There came the sound of metal being crushed. Satisfied, Milo was once more about to get into his own flipper, but again he paused. He could hear something. A distant murmuring?

No. It was more like the angry buzzing of hornets. He went to the garage doors and pressed the manual control button. As the doors slid open he stepped out on to the roof. He could hear the sound more clearly now. He knew what was causing it, but he summoned the cyberoid out on to the roof to confirm his opinion. “People,” said the cyberoid in answer to his question. “Many of them. They’re coming this way.”

“Yes,” said Milo. He went to the parapet and stared out across his gardens towards the wall, which sparkled with the different coloured lights of his defence system.

“Are you expecting visitors, sir?” the cyberoid enquired.

“No, but my wife is. They’re her responsibility.” He hurried back inside the garage.

“How many guests is your wife expecting? From the sound of it the approaching group numbers many hundreds.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Miranda will be capable of entertaining them all. She likes giving big parties,” Milo told the cyberoid as he got into the flipper. The armoured hatch slid shut and Milo ordered the vehicle’s computer to take the flipper up to an altitude of a thousand feet and then hover.

From that height Milo, via the sensor monitors, got a clear view of what was happening. The cyberoid had under-estimated the crowd’s numbers. There were thousands of them coming through the woods towards the north wall. Milo guessed they had come from Luxton, the nearest big town to his estate. He’d heard that the place had been hit by the plague.

He had one of the monitors zoom in on a group of them. He saw they were all carrying weapons. Guns, axes, garden utensils even. Milo smiled to himself. He was reminded of a visual cliché from the old horror movies—the horde of angry peasants on their way to burn down the castle of the local vampire or mad scientist. All that was missing were the burning torches.

The broad and ragged front line of the approaching mob was now only about a hundred yards from the wall. Milo decided to make it easier for the attackers. He patched into the house computer and gave it the coded command that would override all previous commands and freeze the defence systems, with the exception of the cyberoids who acted as self-contained units. Then he leaned back in his seat and prepared to watch the show.

It didn’t take them long to get into the grounds. First came a number of explosions that breached the wall in several places, and then the mob poured through the gaps and into the gardens. There it encountered the first real opposition; three of the estate’s large outdoor cyberoids who met the rush of humanity with a devastating mixture of machine-gun and laser fire. Hundreds of the attackers died in the first thirty seconds, but there were so many of them coming through the wall that the cyberoids had no real chance of stopping the invasion. They were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer weight of bodies, toppled off their feet and then, helpless, battered and smashed into shapeless lumps of metal and plastic. The mob surged on towards the house.

A perverse whim caused Milo to patch into the house’s interior audio-visual surveillance system. He saw that Miranda was still in the Sea Room, but the special effects had been shut down and she was staring out of one of the front windows. He spoke her name and she turned towards the surveillance unit that he’d activated. “Milo?” she asked anxiously. “Is that you? What’s happening? Why aren’t the defences working?”

“Must be a malfunction,” he told her. “Or maybe it’s sabotage. You don’t have much time. Get your flipper right away. Don’t wait to pack anything.”

“Where are you?”

“About a thousand feet above the house. Come and join me. Fast.”

She glanced one more time out of the window, then ran from the room. Milo smiled with satisfaction and cut the connection. There came the sound of another explosion. He looked and saw smoke rising from the front of the house. They would be entering the ground floor now. It wouldn’t be long. …

He aimed one of the sensors at the garage doors on the roof. And waited.

Miranda emerged through them about a minute later, looking upwards. He zoomed in on her face. Her eyes were wide with fear. He guessed the mob must be close behind her. He imagined what she must have felt when she discovered her flipper wasn’t functioning. He smiled again.

She ran out on to the garage roof, waving her arms frantically. She could obviously see his lights. Then came flashes of gunfire in the garage. The house cyberoid doing its duty, guessed Milo. Or perhaps it was trying to serve the ‘guests’ canapés from a tray and couldn’t comprehend why it was being fired upon. The thought made Milo laugh aloud.

The first of the mob came through the garage doors. A man, carrying an automatic rifle. A woman followed him. She was wielding a machete. Others emerged. …

Miranda ran, but there was nowhere for her to go unless she jumped off the roof. They trapped her in a corner, surrounding her. She continued to wave frantically at him. Milo leaned forward and switched off his flipper’s lights. Then he watched the screen intently as Miranda was torn to pieces. It was only when there was nothing left of her to be seen among the rampaging mob that he realized he had a throbbing erection.

He took the flipper down in a swooping dive. He was above them before they knew what was happening. His lasers and guns soon killed all of those on the roof. Then he dropped a bomb on the house and flew off towards the south.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Flickers of lightning illuminated the taller towers of the distant city in brief flashes. Jan was awe-struck. She had never seen a city before and the sheer size of this one impressed her profoundly. How could buildings have been built to stretch so far into the sky without collapsing at their bases? And to think that all those buildings had once been full of people. It was hard to imagine that so many people had ever lived at the same time.

“There must have been thousands and thousands of people living there,” she said to Milo.

“What?” he said distractedly. He had been uncharacteristically silent for the last few minutes as he leaned on the railing and stared broodingly at the city. She repeated her words and he answered, “No, more than that. It had a population of over six million.”

“Six million?” She shook her head in disbelief.

“It’s true. I knew that city well. The last time I saw it was alive. All those towers shone with lights. Traffic moved in the streets. Flippers moved in the sky. …” He went silent again.

She guessed he was reliving memories from all those centuries ago and felt briefly sorry for him. “That big tower, in the centre. Is that the one we have to reach? The Sky Tower?”

“Shush,” he cautioned her and glanced over his shoulder towards their ever-present escort, two silent samurai who were standing some ten feet away from them on the open deck. Jan and Milo had, in theory, the warlord’s permission to go wherever they wanted within the public sections of the Lord Pangloth, but whenever they left their cabin they were followed by two warriors. Milo had told Jan that he doubted if they could understand Americano; he was fairly certain that only the warlord had any familiarity with the language, but they couldn’t afford to take the chance of speaking openly in front of them.

“Speak in a whisper,” he told her, leaning his head close to hers. “Yes, that’s the Sky Tower. I only hope it doesn’t spark off any old memories in our friend Horado’s mind.”

“When do we leave?” Jan asked. The city already seemed a long way away and the thought of flying all that distance in one of the Japanese gliders made her stomach flutter queasily. And with every passing moment the city became more distant as the Lord Pangloth, having made a wide detour round it, now flew northwards towards the place known as the Armstrong Spaceport.

“When it gets completely dark,” whispered Milo.

“But how will we see where to go?” she asked worriedly.

“Didn’t I tell you? I can see perfectly well in the dark.”

She was past being surprised by anything about Milo. She simply nodded and said, “Yes, but I can’t.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be doing all the steering. You just follow my instructions and everything will be fine. Our only problem is that storm up there in the hills. Let’s just hope it’s moving in the other direction.”

“What about our other problem?” she asked, shifting her head slightly to indicate their solemn-faced escorts, who were pretending to be watching the city instead of them.

Milo glanced briefly at them and shrugged. “No problem. On the contrary, they’ll be of help to us. Well, one of them will be.” He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t pursue the matter. She knew that she would find out what he had in mind soon enough. Let him enjoy his little dramatic game in the meantime.

The city grew ever more distant and soon Jan had trouble in making out its towers during the intermittent flashes of lightning. What she could see clearly were the lights of the Lord Pangloth, which was following the Perfumed Breeze at a distance of about a mile. Her thoughts turned inevitably to Ceri—was she on the Lord Pangloth or was she still on the Perfumed Breeze? Was she safe? What was happening to her at this very moment?

Asking herself these questions only aggravated her anxiety about Ceri, and Jan tried to put her out of her mind. She looked at Milo, who was again staring silently into space. This prompted another line of anxious self-questioning: what was she doing putting her life yet again in the hands of this strange creature whom she already knew couldn’t be trusted? The more she learned about Milo the more he mystified and disturbed her. And still she couldn’t tell how much of what he told her of the old days was the truth and how much was invention concocted for reasons of his own.

What he’d told her about the woman called Miranda, for example, was very difficult to accept: that she had literally been himself in female form, a clone grown from one of his cells that had been genetically engineered to alter the Y chromosome. In this way Milo had been able to marry himself. “A marriage made in a heavenly test tube,” he had said with bitter humour. Jan got the impression that the relationship with his clone had not turned out as he had intended, but despite her continued questioning he refused to tell her any more about Miranda. She remembered he’d told the warlord tersely that Miranda had died, and she wondered about the full circumstances surrounding the clone’s death.

“It’s time,” murmured Milo.

His words caught her by surprise. “What are …?” she began but Milo was already moving towards their two guards. He said something to them in their language. It sounded to Jan like a question. The two guards frowned and then glanced at each other as Milo continued to approach them. Then he blurred. …

The guards had no time to draw their swords. Jan saw one of them fly backwards. He bounced off the wall behind him and fell to his knees, blood pouring from his nose. Milo had hold of the other one by his head. He wrenched the man’s head round with frightening strength. The vertebrae in his neck made a ghastly sound as they were twisted apart. Jan looked away. When she turned back the guard was lying face-down on the deck and Milo was bending over the first man. He brought the edge of his hand down on the back of the man’s neck. The guard slumped forward and lay still. Milo undid the warrior’s weapons harness and tossed it, with the sheathed swords and knives, at Jan’s feet. Then he picked the dead man up, carried him to the railing and, without displaying the least effort, flung him into space. The darkness swiftly swallowed up the man’s falling corpse. Milo went to the other body and began to strip it.

Everything had happened so fast that Jan felt disorientated. One moment there had been two living, breathing human beings with them on the small deck and now, within the blink, it seemed, of an eye, they were both dead; and one of them was plunging through the night air towards the ground. …

Milo was putting on the dead warrior’s clothes and armour. He looked at Jan and said, “Pick up those weapons. You’re going to need them.” She did as she was told. He put on the man’s helmet and grinned unpleasantly at her. “How do I look?”

“Everything’s too small on you. You won’t fool anyone … not for long, anyway,” she told him.

“I didn’t expect to get there and back completely unnoticed,” he said unperturbed. “Especially carrying a glider along the corridor. But the disguise will give me a slight edge and that’s all I need. See you soon…. ” He picked up the near-naked body and tossed it over the railing as effortlessly as the first one, then hurried down the deck and disappeared through the hatchway.

Jan sighed, then turned and leaned on the railing, trying to conceal the weapons with her body in case one of the Japanese should venture out on to the deck while Milo was gone. Underneath her jacket was a water bottle and a bag containing a number of rice cakes. She knew that the next ten minutes or so were going to be very long ones. Milo had estimated that was the amount of time it would take him to reach the nearest of the glider storage areas, steal one and get back to the deck. She wondered what she would do if he never returned. Use one of the knives on herself? Jump? Anything would be better than to fall into the hands of the warlord, who would undoubtedly be furious at being betrayed by Milo.

As expected, the time passed with agonizing slowness. Her palms began to sweat and the slightest sound made her start. Where was Milo? Surely more than ten minutes had passed by now. …

She gave another start. The sound of someone coming. At a run. Milo emerged through the hatchway. Under one arm he was carrying a folded-up glider, in his other hand he was holding a sword. Jan’s first thought was that the glider looked too ridiculously small to be capable of supporting two people, then she noticed the blood on the blade of the sword.

Milo’s eyes held the wild look she had seen before. He grinned crazily and said, “Bit more difficult that I expected. Left something of a mess back there but the survivors have probably sorted themselves out by now and are hot on my trail. We don’t have much time.” He sheathed his sword and began to unfold the glider. To Jan it seemed magical the way the thing just grew and grew—sections of tubular metal expanded to four times their original length; the silken cloth of the wing itself seemed endless … soon the glider’s wing span extended the full length of the small deck. Milo suddenly kicked at the railings, splintering them. A couple more kicks and the railings were gone. Jan backed away from the edge. The idea of jumping into the black void supported only by a flimsy arrangement of silk, hollow metal poles and wires grew even less attractive.

“Quickly!” urged Milo. “Get your weapons on and then get into this harness.” He was already climbing into his own leather harness, which was attached by wires to the centre of the glider. She hurriedly strapped on her swords and knives then got into the harness. It fitted around her thighs and waist. The glider, at this point, was resting on its rear wing tip; from the centre, where the harness wires were secured, extended a triangle made up of the three metal poles. “Take hold of the bar—like this,” said Milo as he grabbed the pole that formed the base of the triangle. Jan did likewise, her heart thumping painfully.

“After we launch keep your body straight and do whatever I tell you. Understand?”

“Yes,” she replied with a dry mouth.

“Right, step to the edge and get ready to jump as hard as you can when I give the signal.”

They moved to the very edge of the deck, the silk wing standing almost upright behind them. “On the count of three,” said Milo, bending his knees in readiness to jump. Jan did the same. Her long hair was caught by the wind and blown across her face. The silk fabric of the wing began to flap.

“One. …”

Angry shouts behind them. The Japanese had arrived.

“Two … three!”

The knowledge that the deck was about to fill up with furious Japanese warriors overcame any last-moment doubts Jan had about jumping. She put every effort she could into her leap from the edge of the deck—but just as she and Milo jumped there came the crash of gunfire and she felt a bullet pass close by her ear.

More gunfire, but by then she and Milo were hurtling downwards through the cold night air. For several moments Jan thought they were falling out of control, but no; she then realized they were in a downward, gliding swoop. They were flying.

“Shift your weight to the left!” ordered Milo.

“What?” The glider was levelling out now. The air was rushing by so fast her eyes were watering. Not that there was anything to see anyway.

“Shift to the left—towards me!” shouted Milo. “Now!”

She did as he wanted. She felt his body move in the same direction. The glider dipped to the left, then she realized they were turning. Moments later he yelled, “Okay, stop! Straighten out again!” She did so. “Good,” he said. “At least we’re going in the right direction, but we need more height if we’re going to reach the city. Let’s hope we encounter some updrafts.”

As they flew on Jan discovered that she was beginning to enjoy the experience. Flying in silence like an arrow through the night air. …

“Shit,” grunted Milo.

“What’s wrong?”

“Got a rip in the wing. Bullet hole, or a sword slash.” She looked over her shoulder, but though she could just make out the shape of the wing above them in the darkness she certainly couldn’t see any rip in the fabric. “Is it a problem?” she asked.

“Not yet, but it’s getting bigger.”

“Oh.” Her feeling of exhilaration had gone. She peered downwards, trying to see how far they were above the ground.

“Shit,” said Milo again. “We’re not going to make the city at this rate.”

“Are we going to crash?”

“I doubt it, but we may have a long walk. And that’s blight land below us.”

Jan had no idea how much time passed before she felt a violent jolt and almost lost her grip on the bar. She heard Milo yell “Hang on!” and then the glider stood on its nose and plunged downwards. She screamed.

They seemed to fall thousands of feet before the glider unexpectedly straightened out again. “You okay?” Milo called.

“I think so,” she said shakily. “I thought we were finished.”

“These things are designed to pull out of dives automatically. Trouble is, we’ve lost even more height now, thanks to that pocket of turbulence, and I can’t see how—” The ripping sound was clearly audible over the flapping of the wing and the rush of the air. Then the glider dipped violently to the right. It didn’t dive this time but went into a spiral. Milo was yelling something, but she couldn’t hear what.

It could have been hours later or merely seconds when the glider crashed into something and Jan received a blow on the forehead that sent her consciousness spinning off into the void. …

When she came to she found she was suspended upside-down by her harness. She couldn’t see anything. “Milo?” she groaned. There was no answer. She reached blindly out for him but couldn’t find him. What had happened? Where was she? The glider seemed to be facing nose down, but was it on the ground or stuck in the branches of some tall tree? She felt her face. It was sticky—with blood, no doubt—and there was a lump on her forehead just above the hairline. “Milo!” she called again, more loudly this time.

Something coughed in the darkness. The sound was familiar to Jan. It was the sound the big cats often made as they prowled around the walls. She remembered where she was. In the blight lands. And, apparently, alone. Milo had abandoned her. Or he was dead.

She drew her short sword. It provided a modicum of solace but she still felt ridiculously vulnerable and exposed, hanging there upside-down. She probed about with the sword and found Milo’s empty harness hanging nearby. Then she made contact with one of the tubular metal poles. With difficulty she managed to grab hold of it. As she did so the glider shifted slightly and there was a tearing noise. As she’d suspected the thing appeared to be caught in the branches of a tree. But she still had no idea how high up she was. One thing was certain, though; it wouldn’t take much, from the sound of it, to dislodge the glider from its precarious perch.

Jan came to a decision. She had no choice but to try and jump to the ground before the glider fell, taking her with it. She sheathed the short sword and reached out for the glider’s crossbar. She gripped it firmly with one hand and with the other began to undo the straps of her harness.

As the last fastening came free the harness slipped open and she was suddenly falling. Desperately she grabbed for the bar with her other hand.

Got it! She gave a grunt as her body swung round, putting all her weight on her arms with a violent jerk. Then she swung there, legs dangling in space. She felt down with her toes, hoping to touch the ground. But it wasn’t there. How far away was it? Five feet? Ten? Fifty? It was the difference between a sprained ankle, broken bones or death.

Get it over with, Jan told herself. She took a deep breath and let go of the bar. …

As she fell she drew up her knees, instinctively beginning to curl up into a ball.

She fell and fell. …

I’m going to die!

She plunged into something very soft, but though the substance broke her fall the impact was still sufficient to knock the breath out of her. She rolled head over heels though the stuff and ended up lying on her back, frantically trying to suck air into her lungs. Whatever she’d landed in was all over her face as well, which made trying to breathe even more difficult. As she scraped it off the foul smell told her what it was. …

Fungus!

“Ugh,” Jan groaned with disgust. She sat up and hurriedly brushed the stuff from her clothing. Then she stood up and took a tentative step. Immediately she sank to her knees in the springy, repulsive substance. She wanted to be sick, then she told herself that the fungus had saved her life. Without it she would have surely broken her neck, not to mention every other bone in her body.

Then it occurred to her that if she had survived the fall from the glider then Milo must have as well. But where was he? Probably a long way from here already, she thought bitterly. Maybe he had given her up for dead, or had he just decided that she would slow him down on foot? Either way, he had abandoned her.

She heard that feline cough again. It was closer now. She drew the longer of the two swords, holding it with both hands, and faced in the direction where she thought the big cat was. She remembered, with a superstitious chill, the black panther at the gate. The one that had brought about Carla’s death. Surely it couldn’t be the same one. …

Another sound. Right behind her.

Jan started to turn, but she knew it was already too late.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Careful with that thing, you idiot!” warned Milo tersely.

“Milo! Thank the Mother God. …” Jan lowered the sword as relief flooded through her. “I thought you’d abandoned me.”

He stepped close to her. She could just make out his shape in the darkness. “I did,” he told her.

“You did?” she asked, surprised. “But you came back. …”

“Don’t ask me why,” he said coldly. “I don’t know myself. Just don’t make me regret my decision.”

Another cough from the big cat. Very close now. “Milo …?”

“Yes, I can see it. A tiger. Sabre-tooth. Big. About twenty yards away.” He lowered his voice. “It’s just spotted us. Gone into a crouch. We’re down-wind of it, so it hadn’t got our scent.

Jan was irrationally relieved that the big cat wasn’t a panther, even though she was well aware that a sabre-tooth was even more deadly. Then she heard Milo moving away from her. “Where are you going?” she asked anxiously.

“Nowhere,” he answered softly. “Just a few yards in front of you. I’m now standing with my back to the cat.” She heard him slowly draw one of his swords.

“But why have you got your back to the tiger?” she asked, alarmed. “You won’t be able to see him coming.”

“Be quiet!” Milo ordered.

She obeyed. All was silent at first and then she heard a slight sound of movement. In her mind’s eye she could see the sabre-tooth coming through the sound-absorbing fungus. Any moment now and he would be in range to spring. She tensed, ready to run. Then came a swishing sound followed by a loud thunk. She heard something heavy landing in the fungus very nearby. A powerful animal smell washed over her. “Milo …?”

“I’m still here. But the cat isn’t.”

“What happened?”

“I beheaded it.”

“But how did you know when to strike? You had your back to it.”

“I can hear just as well as I can see in the dark. Audio enhancement. That poor pussycat made as much noise coming though that fungoid mush as a cyberoid falling down a staircase. Now come on, let’s go and find you some shelter. No use trying to cover any distance to the city tonight. You’d probably blunder into a whip tree.” She felt him grasp her wrist and allowed herself to be led through the impenetrable blackness. Progress, however, was difficult, thanks to the fungus. It was like trying to wade through a lake of viscous liquid and very soon Jan’s legs were aching. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“I’m looking for a suitable tree,” he told her. “Most around here are dead and rotten thanks to the fungus.”

She remembered his comment about blundering into a whip tree and said nervously. “Can you see well enough in the dark to spot a whip tree?”

“Let’s hope so,” he said and chuckled.

Jan didn’t find it amusing. Whip trees were notoriously deceptive. They mimicked other species of trees so closely that it was impossible to tell them apart; that is, until the whip-like tendrils cracked through the air towards the unfortunate victim, who was then dragged by them towards the trunk, where giant thorns were already emerging to impale him and slowly absorb all the fluid from his body. “Where did whip trees come from?” she asked Milo.

“Like so many other things out here in the blight they were created by genegineers.”

“But why? Why would anyone deliberately create anything so horrible?”

Milo laughed and said, “The Mother God created man, didn’t she?”

“You don’t believe in the Mother God, I know. You’re making fun of me.”

“True. But to answer your question, the whip trees were created by genegineers working for a very rich man called Planus. He wanted a novel way of dissuading trespassers from entering his extensive estates. The whip trees aren’t really trees. They’re a hybrid of animal and vegetable. Neither one nor the other.” He paused then added, “Like me.”

“Like you?” she asked, puzzled.

“Yes. Neither one thing nor the other.” There was bitterness in his voice. “Someone once told me that a long time ago. I didn’t believe her. But what the hell, I survive, and that’s what counts. That’s what everything is all about.”

Not understanding what he was talking about Jan didn’t answer. He continued and she realized he was talking more to himself than her. “Survival. The reason for everything, yet it remains the basic mystery. Why should complicated molecules have developed the ability to replicate? Is it the automatic outcome of natural chemical processes? The automatic outcome of matter’s innate, chemical desire to persist in a form that is mathematically harmonious …?” Milo suddenly tightened his grip on her arm. “Look!”

“Look where?” She asked nervously. “You know I can’t see anything.”

“Upwards, you fool. Look at the sky.”

She did so, and saw a cluster of lights moving overhead. “The Lord Pangloth!” she gasped.

“Or the Perfumed Breeze. Obviously the warlord is not giving up so easily. He must have his heart set on getting a shiny, new Sky Angel.”

As they stared upwards a beam of intense, white light suddenly stabbed downwards from the dark mass of the airship. It touched the ground about a hundred yards in front of them, illuminating the ghostly outlines of fungus draped trees and huge, freestanding fungoid growths. Then the beam of light began to track back and forth. “Quickly, this way,” urged Milo, leading Jan towards a nearby fungus that resembled a giant mushroom. They crouched down under its drooping cap. The beam was sweeping in their direction now. “Keep still … don’t move a muscle,” he told her.

Jan had every intention of remaining perfectly still … until a cold and slimy thing dropped on to the back of her neck. She gave a cry of alarm and turned to see a thick, white worm crawling over her shoulder. When she felt another one drop on her neck she screamed and stood up. “No …” warned Milo, but it was too late. The impact made the cap of the mushroom explode into powdery fragments, leaving them exposed to the fast-approaching beam of light.

“Stupid bitch!” snarled Milo as he reached up and pulled her down beside him. “Lie flat!”

But then Jan saw that the ground was now covered with large, writhing worms. They had apparently been inside the mushroom’s cap, feeding on it, probably. “Oh, Mother God …” she groaned and tried to stand again but Milo pushed her face-down on to the pulpy ground. “Be still or I’ll kill you,” he hissed … She could feel the worms writhing under her as they were crushed by her weight. Bile rose up in the back of her throat. …

The beam of light was coming through the trees straight towards them. They had no chance. And then, when it was less than fifty feet away, there was a harsh cry and suddenly something on two legs was illuminated by the beam. Nothing human, Jan saw, but one of the reptiles that walked upright on its hind legs. A small one.

Screeching with alarm, the reptile took flight and the beam followed it, or tried to as the creature sped off through the distorted scenery of the blight land. Gradually the beam faded in the distance. So too did the whine of the airship’s thrusters, and Jan was in total darkness again. It was only then that Milo spoke. “I should leave you here for that,” he said, his voice cold and flat.

She felt ashamed. “I’m sorry, Milo. I acted like a child.”

“No. You acted like a stupid woman.”

Anger flared up in Jan but she bit back her words of protest. She had no right to defend herself. She had behaved stupidly. Finally she said, haltingly, “Well, are you going to leave me?”

There was no answer from Milo. The silence went on so long she began to think that he had already gone, moving so quietly she hadn’t heard him go. Then, unexpectedly, she felt his hands grab the cloth of her Japanese jacket. He slammed her backwards and then his weight was on top of her. “You owe me,” he told her coldly.

Automatically, she started to resist but then she stopped struggling. Again, he was right. She did owe him, monster though he was. And she knew that without him she would never get out of the blight land alive. There was no choice but to let him have what he wanted.

So she didn’t resist as he roughly stripped her of her weapons harness and clothes and then, equally roughly, entered her. She lay there on the putrid fungus and the cold slime of the crushed worms’ bodies, trying to rein back the physical revulsion she had for Milo and hoping that it would all be over quickly.

It wasn’t. She realized, eventually, that she should have anticipated that Milo would be unlike poor Prince Caspar in his love-making; the eager and over-excited Caspar could never last very long before firing off his juices inside her but Milo wasn’t liable to such lack of self-control. On the contrary. As Milo had had so many of his bodily functions improved by those long-dead genegineers she guessed that his sexual prowess had been similarly ‘enhanced’. He took her again and again in a variety of positions, climaxing every time but coming erect again almost immediately.

She tried to let herself go—tried to give herself over to the experience—but though her body responded to a certain degree her mind remained locked off from what was happening to her. Even when she tried to pretend it was Prince Caspar making love to her with a cold skill he had never achieved before she failed to overcome her basic revulsion. So instead she simulated enjoyment—as she had sometimes done with Caspar—crying and moaning and shuddering in a way that she hoped would convince Milo.

Finally he climaxed with an intensity that went far beyond his previous orgasms, giving a piercing scream as his body underwent a series of convulsive muscle contractions. Then he slumped down beside her and Jan could hear him panting. She waited for a time then said, “That was wonderful. …”

The slap that came out of the darkness took her completely by surprise. It seared her cheek and rattled her teeth. Then, before she could react, Milo’s hands gripped her neck. “Bitch,” he hissed. “Who do you think you’re dealing with? Do you think you could ever fool me?”

Not since the time in the wicker cage with the other captives had Jan spent such an uncomfortable night, perched precariously as she was high up in a fork in the tall tree. It was impossible to sleep because she knew if she did she would have surely fallen. She had almost fallen when relieving herself. Even eating and drinking had been a risky operation as she really needed both hands to hold on to the tree.

Adding to her discomfort were the state of her clothes, which remained sticky and smelt putrid, and the soreness around her throat that made swallowing painful. For several terrifying moments she had been convinced that Milo was going to kill her, but just as she began to lose consciousness he’d let go of her throat and told her brusquely to get up and get dressed. Since then he’d said very little to her, apart from announcing that he’d found a suitable tree and giving some words of advice on how to climb it.

One of the rare occasions he spoke was when they heard something very large approaching the tree. “What is it?” she’d called anxiously to him. Milo, who was on a branch a short distance below her, replied that it was a particularly large reptile.

It was so heavy it made the ground shake and Jan had to hold even more tightly on to the tree. She could hear other trees being knocked down and guessed that the creature was so enormous it was simply creating its own path through the blighted forest. “Milo …!” she’d cried, expecting the thing to knock their tree over at any moment. But he’d called back, “Don’t worry, it’s going to miss us. Just.”

Milo was right. Jan had a brief impression of an impossibly large bulk passing by very close and then the sounds of its ground-shaking footsteps began to recede. “It must have been huge,” she said.

“It was. Biggest dinosaur I ever saw. A brachiosaurus, by the look of it … not that any of those things are real dinosaurs. Their genetic base isn’t even reptilian, it’s mammalian. Canine, in fact. Yeah, those so-called dinosaurs are really just overgrown dogs. …” He gave a harsh laugh and then became silent again.

Apart from that close encounter with the giant beast they had no trouble with any other creature during the long night, though from all the cries and shrieks that could be heard at regular intervals it was clear that this area of the blight land was well populated with something. Jan felt very relieved when it finally began to grow light. Her back and neck were stiff and her limbs ached from the strain of maintaining a grip on the tree.

The dawn illuminated a depressing but familiar scene. Blight land in all directions. Fungus everywhere. Hanging from the trees like pieces of rotting shroud, rising from the ground in various bizarre shapes. Some of the growths were of different colours—Jan saw several giant puffballs that were bright red—but most of the fungus was a dirty white. It was a colour she associated with death and decay. The air smelled of decay too, a strong odour of mustiness which she knew came from the fungus. And it would get worse when the fungus was warmed by the sun.

“I’m going down,” she told Milo. “Another minute in this tree will drive me crazy.”

Her muscles protested strongly as she began the long climb down to the ground. She expected Milo to descend ahead of her, but instead he moved out of her way and then began to climb towards the top of the tree. “What are you doing?” she asked, pausing.

“Want to get my bearings. Got disorientated last night. Should be able to see the city from the top.”

Jan continued down. On the ground she walked off a short distance and relieved herself behind a rotting tree. When she returned Milo was there. His expression was grim. “Not good. We flew further off course in that damn glider than I thought.”

“How far away is the city?”

“Too far. I could just make out the towers on the horizon. It’s going to take us days to get there travelling through this mess.” He took out a rice cake from the pouch inside his jacket and began to eat. Between bites he said, “Trouble is, we don’t have enough food or water.”

“I don’t, you mean,” she said, remembering what Ceri had said about Milo surviving in the sea while his companions had died of thirst and starvation. “You don’t need food or water to stay alive. Ceri told me.”

He frowned at her. “It’s true I can slow down my metabolism, in the same way I can speed it up, but that means going into a form of hibernation. I can’t walk and hibernate at the same time. I need nourishment and water just as much as you.”

“So what can we do?”

“Just keep going and hope something turns up. Maybe we’ll run into some marauders or wanderers and I can kill them for their supplies. But somehow I doubt if we’ll see any other humans this close to the city.”

Jan took out her water bottle and shook it. It sounded less than half full. She had one mouthful and put the bottle back inside her jacket. “Any sign of the Sky Lords?”

He nodded. “The Perfumed Breeze is cruising about some ten miles to the east. The warlord must have taken Pangloth on to the Armstrong spaceport to check out my story just in case it wasn’t all lies. I only hope he doesn’t realize that we were attempting to reach the city. That might trigger off some buried memory about the Sky Tower. Then again, he wouldn’t think anyone could be so mad as to enter a city.”

“Yes” she agreed sourly. “Who else but us could be so mad?”

For the first time that day Milo smiled and seemed like his old self again, but his change of mood was only temporary and he lapsed again into grim silence as he led the way towards the distant city.

Trudging along behind him through the foul-smelling fungus, Jan wondered about her relationship with him. It had changed, thanks to the sex of the previous night. He had finally got what he wanted, only it hadn’t satisfied him. What had he wanted then? Not just sex with her. Had he somehow expected to transform her through the act of love-making? Into what? A genuine lover, even though she had already warned him she could never be that to him? That was likely. He had believed, in his arrogance, that he could possess her through the power of his penis alone. Or maybe it wasn’t as simple as that. Perhaps, despite denying the existence of love, he hoped she would fall in love with him.

Well, however differently he felt about her now it did not bode well for her future survival. He must realize that there was no chance of her changing her attitude towards him and that meant he might now regard her as a disposable item; something that could be easily abandoned at the first sign of serious inconvenience.

The morning passed without incident. They heard many sounds in the surrounding woods but nothing overtly threatened them. They did encounter a whip tree, but as it had only recently trapped some fresh prey it presented no danger, being clearly visible for what it was. The prey—a large wolf-like animal—was held against the trunk in an obscene embrace by the tree’s tentacles. Already the wolf’s body was caving in under its fur as the spikes of the trunk slowly sucked it dry.

“Why are the whip trees never attacked by fungus?” Jan asked Milo as they detoured around it.

“As I told you before, they’re not really trees. But apart from that they were designed to be pretty difficult to kill. They’re full of toxins. Too deadly for even the toughest fungi to infest.”

They stopped around noon for a rest. Jan flung herself down thankfully. She was worn out from struggling through the fungus and her muscles throbbed with pain. It was uncomfortably hot too. The storm clouds of the previous night had vanished and the sun beat down unimpeded on the blight land.

“Mother God … the stink …” she groaned. It wasn’t just the fungus, it was her as well. Her slime-encrusted clothes smelt appalling in the heat and she would have given anything for a bath. She thought with nostalgia of the bathroom in her quarters on the Lord Pangloth and wryly berated herself for such weakness.

She was terribly thirsty as well. She took out her water bottle. She had intended only to have a couple of mouthfuls, but before she knew what she was doing she had finished the remainder of the water. She sighed inwardly. How was she going to spend two or three days travelling without another drink of water? She glanced towards Milo, who was lying on his back. Would he share his remaining water with her? Best not to ask him just yet.

Ten minutes later and Jan felt herself begin to drift off to sleep. She knew it was a dangerous thing to do out in the open like this but surely Milo would let her know if anything dangerous appeared.

A sound made her return to full wakefulness. She listened intently. Yes, there it was again! She hadn’t imagined it.

It was a splash.

She sat up. “Milo, did you hear that?”

He didn’t answer. She looked at him. He appeared to be asleep. Good. She would handle this on her own. It would be good if she could announce to him on her return that she had found a source of fresh water. It would help to compensate for her stupid behaviour of the previous night.

She stood up quietly. There was another splash. It came from somewhere to her left. She began to head in what she hoped was the right direction. As a precaution she drew her short sword. …

She’d gone, she’d estimated, about fifty yards when suddenly the claustrophobic clutter of rotting trees and fungoid growths came to an end and she found herself standing in a clearing. In the centre of the clearing was a small lake. It was almost perfectly round and Jan wondered if it was artificial.

Whatever its origin it looked marvellous to her. As she approached it she felt a strong desire to tear off her clothes and plunge straight into its mirror-like surface.

She froze. The surface of the small lake was perfectly flat and there was no stream either entering it or leaving it. So what had caused the splashing? Raising her sword defensively she glanced around the clearing. No sign of anyone else in the vicinity. She looked back towards the lake and advanced towards it warily. She froze again as a large bubble appeared on its surface and then broke with a splashing sound. She immediately relaxed. The mystery had been solved.

But what was causing the bubbles? Gas, perhaps? Coming up through the ground on the bottom of the lake? Or could it be formed by rotting vegetation under the water? She went to the edge of the lake and peered into it. It seemed deep, its sides dropping away steeply. Jan frowned as she wondered if the water was safe to drink. It looked so enticing. …

She went down on one knee, cupped her free hand and dipped it into the water. It felt surprisingly cold. She tasted the water cautiously with the tip of her tongue, then swished a small amount of it back and forth in her mouth. It seemed okay. She would risk a couple of mouthfuls.

A louder splash than usual made her look up. There, in the centre of the lake, a head had appeared. It was frog-like in appearance and coloured a dark green. It had large, bulging eyes and a very wide mouth. The mouth grinned at her. Jan sprung upright and was about to run when the mouth opened and a great length of tongue shot out of it at amazing speed. The end of it was around Jan’s left leg before she knew what was happening. She was jerked violently off her feet and dragged inexorably into the edge of the lake.

She hacked blindly with her sword. The blade made contact with something, sliced through it and suddenly she was no longer being pulled into the water. Frantically she scrambled out of the lake. Looking over her shoulder she saw the head had vanished, but the water in the centre of the lake seemed to be boiling. She started to run. At the same time there came an explosion of water from the lake. She glanced over her shoulder again and saw that the creature had leapt out of the lake. It was huge, with powerful hind legs. She saw the muscles tense as it prepared to leap again. …

She knew she didn’t have a chance. The creature sailed straight over her head and landed with a thump some five yards ahead of her. It spun round to face her as she skidded helplessly to a halt.

It was massive. Even squatting it loomed over her. The great mouth opened again. She saw blood trickling from its corners. “Smart-ass,” the frog-creature growled. “You hurt me. Gonna take weeks to regrow that four foot of tongue. …” He reached out one of his fore-limbs towards her. The long fingers on the human-like hand were tipped with vicious-looking claws. “Gonna teach you some lessons ‘fore I eat you, woman. ‘Fore I finish with you, you gonna be beggin’ me to have my supper just to get it over with. …”

The creature suddenly stiffened and let loose a bellow of pain. It whirled around and Jan saw a large and deep gash across its upper back. A shape blurred beside the creature as it turned. She saw the flash of a sword. The creature bellowed again as one of its fore-legs was lopped off.

Milo, she realized.

The sword flashed again and again and soon the creature was on its back, hind legs kicking feebly as blood pumped out of several fatal wounds. Milo came into focus and began wiping his stained long-sword. He gave her a look of contempt. “Stupid, stupid woman. You’ve been trying so hard to get yourself killed I’m going to let you succeed the next time. You’re absolutely useless … what the hell …?”

The metal net that had dropped neatly over Milo’s head took them both equally by surprise.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The wooden cage, mounted on two big wheels and hauled by a team of sick-looking bullocks, trundled slowly through the blight land. Jan and Milo weren’t the only prisoners. There were three others in the cage with them. Two of them were male, one a female. They were all dressed in dirty robes that covered everything but their faces. They wore the same expression of sullen resignation. Under their thick black beards the men appeared to have identical features and Jan presumed they were twins. They were good looking, but in a way that Jan found too aggressively masculine. In fact it seemed to her that they reeked of pure masculinity on some physical level. The woman, on the other hand, was possessed of an almost beatific beauty; the bone structure underlying her flawless white skin appeared to Jan to be as fragile as egg shells. Unfortunately she was deformed by a pronounced hump on her back which protruded clearly through her bulky robes.

Their captors were of an unusual appearance as well, some more so than others. Jan stared again at the man keeping pace beside the wheeled cage. His face was marred with deep furrows and the flesh hung loose on his neck and beneath his chin. His thin hair had streaks of white in it as if he had attempted to dye it in the manner of the Minervan Headwomen.

All of their captors had similar markings on their faces, but this particular man was the worst affected. Jan wondered if it was the result of some kind of ritual scarring and had asked Milo this, but he was still refusing to speak. He just lay silently within the tight confines of the metal net, his expression unreadable. She guessed he was furious with himself at being taken by surprise so easily by this bunch of bedraggled-looking men. But it had all happened so quickly: the metal nets had seemed to come from nowhere. While Jan had been staring in astonishment as the net dropped over Milo and cords attached to it pulled him off-balance, another net was flying through the air towards her. Very soon she was in the same position as Milo; lying helpless on the ground with her arms pinned to her sides. And then the bedraggled men with the strangely scarred faces were surrounding them, laughing and giving cries of triumph. They were armed with spears, pitchforks and axes—all rusty—but had no guns as far as Jan could see. They spoke Americano, but with an odd accent that made understanding them difficult. One word cropped up again and again. Ezekiel.

Jan had heard that word many times since their capture and now realized it was someone’s name. From what she had been able to decipher of their conversation Ezekiel was their leader. And apparently he was going to be very pleased with them when they returned with their five prizes. Or, as one of their captors had put it, “… these five abominations in the eyes of the Lord.” Jan hadn’t liked the sound of that.

They travelled without a stop right through the night. Jan managed to sleep for several hours, in spite of the discomfort. Fortunately they had removed the net from her before putting her in the mobile cage. They had tied her hands behind her, and her feet together, as they had the other prisoners with the exception of Milo. Jan doubted if she could have stood to remain within the cruel confines of the metal net for more than a couple of hours and felt increasingly sorry for Milo, though as usual he gave no sign of being in pain.

On waking up with a terrible thirst Jan had asked the nearest of their captors for some water, but he laughed and gave the side of the cage a whack with the shaft of his spear. “You think you’re thirsty now, unclean one?” he said in his barely penetrable accent. “Just wait until Ezekiel sends you to hell where you belong—then you’ll know real thirst!”

With the morning came glimpses over the tree-tops of the towers of the city, revealing to Jan that they were now much closer. She estimated that the outskirts were probably only about ten miles away. Then, at around mid-morning, the cage and ragged escort arrived at their destination. After passing through a gap in a wall made of metal netting covered with camouflage they entered a small settlement. For the first time since being thrown into the cage Milo struggled into a sitting position and began to display an interest in his surroundings.

It was a dismal place. The buildings, made of fungus-riddled wood, were squat and ugly. The atmosphere was made even more dismal by the camouflaged netting that hung over the whole of the settlement, keeping it in a state of permanent twilight.

They came to a square in the centre of the ramshackle little town and the mobile cage was halted. People were coming out of the buildings and very soon the cage was surrounded by a sizable crowd. Then Jan got a close look at some of the people and gave a gasp of fear and revulsion.

They were living corpses! Their withered skin hung from their bones in what appeared to be an advanced state of decay; their faces were so disfigured they scarcely resembled human beings! It was impossible that people could look like that and still be alive. They had obviously fallen into the hands of a nest of sorcerers who were using magic to keep these unfortunate creatures alive!

Unconsciously, Jan moved closer to Milo. He laughed cynically. “What’s the matter?”

“Those creatures … Mother God, what are they? Have they been dug out of their graves and reanimated by sorcerers?”

Milo laughed again. “You’re having your first look at an affliction that every human being was prone to once upon a time, provided he or she lived long enough. It’s called ‘old age’. These people must be the remnants of one of the big fundamentalist communities. They considered genetic enhancement to be ‘unnatural’ and against the will of God. They preferred to rot slowly like this over a period of many years. Pretty sight, isn’t it? If it wasn’t for those genegineers you despise so much, the same fate would be in store for you.”

Jan covered her face with her hands. “No, I don’t believe you! The Mother God wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“Maybe She wouldn’t be, but God the Father was, or Nature or the blind forces of chance—depending on what you want to believe rules over the cosmos …”

“Ezekiel!”

A great shout had risen from the crowd, and then a parting formed among them. Ezekiel had arrived. Ezekiel was like nothing Jan had ever seen before. It was made of metal and consisted of a large, box-like head, about five feet wide, and two huge legs that ended in great clawed feet. As it moved it clanked noisily and Jan saw that it left deep footprints in the ground. “Jesus,” she heard Milo whisper. “I don’t believe it … after all these years. …”

The thing halted beside the cage. It stood some ten feet high, which was the same height as the cage on its wheeled platform. There was a cluster of metal tubes mounted on top of the metal box and a mechanical arm attached to one of its sides. Jan then saw something that resembled a pair of large binoculars, mounted on another mechanical arm, emerge from the front of the box. She shivered as the binoculars scrutinized her, then did the same to the other four prisoners. Then the thing spoke.

“I am Ezekiel, the Hammer of the Lord. I am the instrument who will send you to your rightful place in Hell, for your presence here sorely offends the Lord.” Its voice was loud but flat; without any range or emotion. It made the skin over Jan’s spine tingle unpleasantly.

The thing then took a step backwards. “Open the cage. I will inspect these accursed ones.”

As the crowd drew away to form a wide space around the cage two members of the escort opened the cage door and began to drag out the prisoners. Soon all five were lying on the ground in front of the thing called Ezekiel. It motioned towards Milo with its mechanical arm. “Why is that one wrapped so securely?”

One of their captors stepped forward. “Oh, great Ezekiel, Hammer of the Lord, he is a demon of a rare sort. We saw him move so fast the eye could not catch up with him. In this manner he was able to kill the great frog demon of the Round Lake.”

The binoculars were extended on their long arm towards Milo. Then the thing said, “You are right to be cautious. Stun him before removing the net. Then use metal shackles on his limbs.”

“Yes, great Ezekiel.” The man turned, took a club from his belt, leaned over Milo and gave him two hard cracks with it on the side of his head. Milo grunted and went limp. Jan hoped he wasn’t dead. But surely, she told herself, it would take more than that to kill Milo.

She stopped worrying about Milo when she saw another of their captors bend over her with a knife in his hand. But it was not her flesh he was intent on cutting open, merely her clothing. Very soon she was naked, but still securely bound. “On your feet,” ordered the man and pulled her roughly up. The other three prisoners had been similarly stripped. Jan stared at them in astonishment. The two men were normal from the waist up, but from the waist down they were covered in thick, matted fur. And instead of feet they had hooves. …

There were gasps and angry mutterings from the crowd. The metal creature cried, “Behold! They are in the very image of their master!”

Jan was noticing other things about the two men-animals. They both had small horns protruding from the sides of their foreheads … and their sexual organs were so large as to be almost absurd. But it was the girl who got her full attention. She had a flawlessly beautiful body, marred only by the two wings covered in white feathers that sprouted from her shoulder blades.

Ezekiel pointed at her and said loudly, “Witness the deviousness of the Dark One! He has created a demon in the image of one of the Lord’s servants! But do not be deceived!” Then it was Jan’s turn. She was made to turn round so that Ezekiel could inspect every inch of her body. Finally the thing said, “I can find no sign of Satan’s work upon her. Why have you brought her to me?”

One of their captors said, nervously, “She was with the man who moved like a demon, great Ezekiel. She must be tainted in some way.”

“Ah, yes, the man,” said Ezekiel, turning its binoculars towards Milo. At that moment a wizened creature, all bent and gnarled like a tree, came through the throng carrying an armful of chains and shackles. With a shock Jan realized she was female. The pathetic creature threw her burden down beside Milo. Immediately two of the men unwrapped the net from him, cut his clothes from him and then put the shackles on his wrists and ankles. Ezekiel studied him for a long time. “I can find no sign of Satan on this one either,” he said finally.

“But great one, we saw him. All of us. He moved as only a demon could move.”

Ezekiel inclined its head in an approximation of a human nod. “It is well known that not all the signs of the Dark One’s work are on the outside. But before I impose the Lord’s wrath upon him I must question him. Put him back in the cage. The girl too. I will question them when he regains his senses.”

Rough hands lifted Jan and she was thrust through the opening of the cage. She barely had time to roll out of the way before Milo was flung in after her. The door was slammed shut and bolted.

“As for these others, who are accursed in the eyes of God, they shall be broken on the wheel and thus sent on their way to suffer eternal torment in the undying fire of hell!” cried Ezekiel. “Bring forth the wheels. …”

Several members of the crowd hurried away and returned shortly, rolling along in their midst five wheels that were as large as the ones supporting the cage. Jan watched as they were each mounted on to tree stumps that had been cut to an average height of about three feet. The bonds of the three prisoners were then cut. The two males struggled as they were forced down on their backs across the wheels, spread-eagled, and their hands and feet tied to the rims. The winged girl, however, submitted to the same treatment without any sign of resistance. She had given up all hope, Jan saw, and her heart ached for her. Her wings had been cruelly pinioned beneath her and one protruded down through the spokes of the wheel. Jan couldn’t comprehend how anyone could wish to harm a creature of such exquisite and fragile beauty.

“Denizens of Babylon,” said Ezekiel as it loomed over them. “By rights you should be burnt at the stake but fire would alert the evil giants that stalk the skies of our existence here. Thus you shall be released to meet your master in a more merciful manner than you deserve. But I am sure God will forgive me.”

One of the creatures who Jan still thought of as living corpses offered Ezekiel a large hammer. Ezekiel grasped it with its single arm and raised it high. Then it brought the weapon down very hard on the shin of the winged girl, shattering it. The girl gave a shrill scream of agony. Ezekiel proceeded to shatter her three other limbs with equally vicious blows of the hammer. Jan, horrified, turned her head from the sight. To her surprise she saw that Milo’s eyes were open and he was watching the scene intently. She also saw, with a feeling of disbelief, that he had an erection.

Disgust overwhelmed her. “Mother God, you’re enjoying this!” she cried accusingly.

“Quiet!” he whispered. “I don’t want them to know I’m awake yet.”

Jan’s mind whirled with sick confusion as she tried to comprehend this new aspect of Milo’s character. Behind her came the thuds of more bone-breaking hammer blows and one of the males began to scream. She could still hear the shrill cries of the girl. She put her fingers in her ears but she couldn’t block out the sounds. More thuds of the hammer, the splintering of bones, more screaming. …

She glanced again at Milo and saw he was looking at her now. His lips were moving. Jan took her hands away from her ears. “… I said, it may be a horrible way to die but it’s relatively quick,” Milo was saying softly. “Unless you’re very unlucky.”

“How can it be quick?” she asked. “He’s just broken their arms and legs. They’ll linger in agony for days. And so will we.”

“No. The shock should kill them. Shock is a drastic reduction of blood pressure. There’ll be massive haemorrhaging into the tissues around the breaks and even now the three of them should be entering a state of deep shock. Soon their blood pressure won’t be sufficient to keep their brains supplied with oxygen and they’ll die.”

“I’m sure that information will be a great solace to me when they tie me to one of those wheels,” Jan said bitterly. “Also of solace will be the knowledge that as my arms and legs are broken you will be deriving physical pleasure from my agony.”

Milo gave a slight shrug. “I admit I have strong sado-sexual tendencies but I assure you that watching you die would give me no pleasure at all.”

“Well, that is a relief,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “Especially as it was only two nights ago that you tried to kill me yourself …”

“Shush,” he warned. “Here they come.”

She turned and saw that Ezekiel was leading the crowd back to the cage. The three victims were groaning and twitching feebly on their wheels but already seemed to have lapsed into unconsciousness. Maybe Milo had been talking sense, she decided. The thought that the agony to come would be brief lessened slightly the knot of terror in her stomach.

“Ah, the demon is awake again,” said Ezekiel, peering at Milo with its binocular-like device through the wooden bars of the cage. “Now you will answer my questions. Are you a creature of Babylon? Does the Dark One give you the power to move faster than any of the Lord’s natural creations?”

“Why should I answer any of your questions, Ezekiel?” Milo asked the machine casually. “You will only believe what you want to believe. Why should I waste my breath?”

“If you don’t answer my questions voluntarily you, and your unclean companion, will be forced to speak,” said Ezekiel. “And I promise you that the torture you will endure will be a thousand times worse than the pain of being broken on the wheel.”

“And who gives you the authority to decide these matters?” Milo asked the metal creature who called itself Ezekiel.

“The Lord God gives me the authority!” Ezekiel replied loudly. “For thus sayeth the Lord God; when I shall make thee a desolate city, like the cities that are not inhabited; when I shall bring up the deep upon thee, and great waters shall cover thee; when I shall bring thee down with them that descend into the pit, with the people of old time, and shall set thee in the low parts of the earth, in places desolate of old, with them that go down into the pit, that thou be not inhabited; and I shall set glory in the land of the living; I will make thee a terror, and thou shalt be no more: though thou be sought for, yet shalt thou never be found again, sayeth the Lord God!” There were murmurs of ‘Amen’ from the crowd.

Milo, with difficulty, stood up. “Your name is not Ezekiel,” he told the creature firmly.

“I am Ezekiel, the hammer of the Lord!”

“You are nothing but an ancient, clapped-out cyberoid! What’s your operating number and the name of your owner?”

The binoculars on the end of the arm twitched. “Wha-what did you say?” asked Ezekiel, its voice faltering.

“You heard me, cyberoid!” called Milo. “Your number and the name of your owner. You are required by law to tell me!”

Ezekiel rocked back on its massive legs then tried to speak again, but all that came out were a series of meaningless sounds. Milo laughed and flexed his arms. The manacles around his wrists fell apart with a snap. As he bent down and gripped the chains around his ankles he said to Jan, “Rusty as hell.” The chains shattered in his hands. Then he blurred. The wooden bars of the cage exploded outwards and there were cries of fear from the crowd. Then gasps as they saw Milo seem to materialize on the back of Ezekiel’s great box of a head. Milo was wrenching at something. A metal panel opened with a screech of protest. He plunged his hand inside and Ezekiel screamed. It was a flat, emotionless sound, like his speech, but Jan could sense the awful agony it represented. On hearing this the group of ragged people started to wail in terror. Some fell to their knees, others turned and ran.

Milo threw his head back and roared with laughter. He wore the maniacal expression Jan had seen before in the control room. He was larger again and radiated power … and something else. Milo finally withdrew his hand from the interior of Ezekiel’s head and slowly the creature’s scream faded away. Milo beamed down at Jan. “Impressive, eh?”

She gazed back at him in silent wonder. And fear.

“Now, my dear old cyberoid,” Milo told the machine, “You are going to reach into the cage and gently sever the bonds of my companion. Mark her in any way and I’ll boil your brains. Do it!”

Ezekiel trembled, then slowly it extended its mechanical arm. Jan flinched when she saw a blade extend from one of the metal ‘fingers’. But Ezekiel cut through her bindings without touching her. When he’d finished Milo cried, “Don’t just sit there. Come and join me. This clunky old piece of machinery is going to give us a free ride all the way to the Sky Tower!”

Jan hesitantly climbed down from the cage and moved to the rear of Ezekiel. Milo reached down and helped her up on to a narrow ridge that ran along the back of the creature’s head. There were handholds as well. When she was beside Milo he slammed his hand on the top of Ezekiel’s head. “Cyberoid! Your number and the name of your owner!”

Very slowly, as if each word was being squeezed out of it, the creature said, “My operating number is 0008005. My master is Hilary Du Cann of the Phobos Corporation.”

“That’s better,” said Milo approvingly.

Ezekiel made a groaning sound. “But that was … long ago. The master is dead … and I have a new name … it is. … ”

Milo reached into the recess in the top of Ezekiel’s head. Jan saw a spark jump between the ends of two broken wires. Ezekiel screamed again.

“You have no new name!” Milo thundered. “You are still 0008005 and the property of Hilary Du Cann!”

“Yes! Yes! Please, no more pain!” begged Ezekiel.

“There’ll be no more pain, 0008005, but only if you cooperate,” Milo told the machine creature.

“I will! I will!”

“Fine. For a start, you will give me your command override code.”

“I … I can’t! It is not permitted … for unauthorized personnel to have access … Arghhhh!”

Jan winced as Ezekiel made its awful sound for the third time. She looked at Milo. He was grinning with pleasure.

“The code … the codeword is … Mozart-McCartney. Overriding command must be followed by ‘Mozart-McCartney’. …”

Milo laughed. “Good. Then listen well, I am overriding all previous commands. I am your new master. My name is Milo. You will obey my every command. Mozart-McCartney. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Ezekiel. “You are my new master. Your name is Milo. I will obey your every command.”

“Did you hear that?” Milo yelled at the people cowering on the ground. None of them answered. Some whimpered. Milo smiled at Jan. “Our fortunes have taken a change for the better, eh?”

“So it would seem,” she answered shakily, “But I don’t understand how. Why is this machine now obeying you?”

“It’s not a machine, it’s a cyberoid. It has a human brain inside it … well, most of a human brain.”

“You mean this was once a man?” Jan asked in dismay.

“No. Its brain came from an unborn foetus grown in some laboratory. It would have been conditioned to obey the orders of its owner, but as cyberoid conditioning could never be one hundred percent guaranteed they had a safety factor built-in … a device linked directly with their pain centres. The device could be activated by a specific radio signal in the event of a cyberoid going out of control. I’ve activated this one’s manually.” Milo pointed at the wires inside the recess. “I’ve also revived its old conditioning. It should be completely cooperative from now on, but just to be certain I’m going to keep within reach of the pain activator.” He slammed his palm down on Ezekiel’s head again. “Listen to me, 0008005. You will order your followers here to fetch us clothing. Preferably cleaner than the rags they have on. And our weapons. They will also fetch us food and water and the means to carry both. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Milo.”

“Then do it.”

Ezekiel repeated Milo’s instructions to the cowering and shocked group surrounding them. After some nervous muttering three women were despatched to fetch the required items. One returned shortly and deposited a bundle of clothing in front of the cyberoid. Milo said to Jan, “Go down and get dressed. I’ll stay up here and make sure our friend behaves himself.”

Jan climbed down off Ezekiel’s back and warily moved around it, keeping an uneasy eye on its massive legs. She still didn’t trust the machine creature, in spite of its new-found docility. She examined the clothes. They were anything but clean and smelt bad, but nothing like as bad as the garments that had been cut from her. She selected a pair of baggy pants with fewer holes than the others, a shirt made of a coarse, heavy material and a pair of battered leather boots. As she was dressing the other two women returned bearing her and Milo’s weapons, two water bags and a sack which presumably contained food. The two women—one of whom was nothing but a bent skeleton covered in withered skin—nervously put their burdens within Jan’s reach and hurriedly backed away. Like the others they kept casting looks of shocked disbelief at Ezekiel.

When she’d finished dressing and put on her weapons harness she climbed back up on to Ezekiel with the food and water. Milo showed her how to put the wires together inside Ezekiel that would cause him extreme agony, then descended to dress and pick up his own weapons. Jan looked at the three strange beings on the wheels. She shuddered at the state of their shattered limbs but was relieved to see that they were either unconscious or dead. She hoped it was the latter.

Milo rejoined her. She said to him, “You could have saved them too. Why didn’t you?”

“Those toys?” He glanced briefly at them. “No. The timing would have been wrong. I had to take the cyberoid by surprise.”

“You could have done it, Milo,” she told him coldly. “But you wanted to see the girl suffer and die, didn’t you?”

“Believe whatever you want. It’s no matter to me. But just remember that you’re still alive and those toys are dead. Or soon will be.”

Yes, I’m still alive, she thought, but for how much longer? “Why do you call them toys?”

“Because that’s what they were. Or rather their grandparents or great grandparents were. Sex toys, created to provide sexual pleasure for their owners. Many of the toys didn’t breed true but the ancestors of these three obviously did.” He suddenly slapped the top of the cyberoid’s head. “Now, 0008005, it’s time we got moving. But before we go, a question—are any of your weapons in operating order?”

“Yes. Not my guns. I have no ammunition for them. But my laser is still functioning.”

“Good,” said Milo, pleased. “That house, thirty degrees on your left. The one nearest to us. Fire your laser at it.”

The bundle of metal tubes on the top of the head swivelled round. Jan saw a bright red line of light form between the end of one of the tubes and the ramshackle building that Milo had indicated. Almost immediately the whole structure burst noisily into flames. The people moaned in terror. Milo, plainly enjoying himself, instructed Ezekiel to set fire to another building. As this one began to catch alight there were screams from inside. A door flew open and children of various ages, and a number of younger women carrying babies, came pouring out. All, to Jan’s eyes, looked starved and in bad health. “Stop!” she cried to Milo as the cyberoid continued to fire at the building. Milo ignored her. Only when the building was completely in flames did he direct Ezekiel to turn the laser on another ramshackle structure. Soon most of the settlement was on fire, the flames spreading to the camouflaged netting above.

“Was all this necessary?” cried Jan over the crackle of burning wood and the screams of the fleeing inhabitants.

“Why waste your sympathy on these scum? They were about to murder you just to placate their God.” He banged his fist on the cyberoid’s head again. “Right, 0008005, let’s get moving. Head towards the city. You know which direction it’s in?”

“Yes,” it replied and began to walk.

Very soon they were out in the bright sunlight again. Behind them the grim settlement of Ezekiel’s people blazed furiously, sending up a column of black smoke above the blight land.

The cyberoid swayed violently from side to side as it walked and Jan found it difficult to hang on to the small handholds, which Milo had told her were there for the benefit of maintenance engineers. He also told her that Ezekiel must have access to some functioning power source somewhere which enabled him to recharge his fuel cell. It was probably located in the city.

After they had been travelling about an hour Jan was relieved when Milo suddenly ordered the cyberoid to halt. “What’s wrong?” she asked as Milo peered intently into the trees on their left.

“I saw something glinting. Like glass. It’s gone now.”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he said smugly and then directed Ezekiel to veer to the left.

They hadn’t gone far when the dead trees thinned out and they entered a large clearing. In the centre of it was a jumble of white stones scattered over a considerable area.

“Looks like the remains of a villa. A big one,” he said as the cyberoid approached the outskirts of the ruin. “I wonder what it was I saw flashing around here?” He ordered the cyberoid to stop. “You get down and check the place out,” he told Jan. “I’ll stay up here and make sure our fundamentalist tin-can doesn’t get any funny ideas.” Gratefully, Jan got down from the machine-creature’s back. “I’m going for a pee first,” she told Milo and headed for the nearest of the stone blocks. She had almost reached it when a cry made her turn. …

She was just in time to see the cyberoid pluck Milo off the back of its head with its mechanical arm, fling him to the ground and then crush him under one of its great metal feet.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“And I will set my glory among the heathen, and all the heathen shall see my judgement that I have executed, and my hand that I have laid upon them!”

Ezekiel roared out these words as it kept stamping on Milo. Jan started back towards them then stopped; it was plain there was nothing she could do to help Milo. His body was already a shapeless mass of bloody meat. He had to be dead.

Milo the immortal. Dead.

Ezekiel stopped stamping on Milo’s gory remains. The binoculars on their metal stalk turned in Jan’s direction. The collection of tubes on the cyberoid’s head followed suit. Jan flung herself on the ground. The red beam burnt through the air above her. She rolled, scrambled to her feet and ducked behind the block of stone.

“I am Ezekiel, Hammer of the Lord!” roared Ezekiel and she heard the sound of its great feet as it approached.

Keeping the stone block beneath her and Ezekiel she ran deeper into the ruins. She ducked and weaved around the scattered masonry, hoping to lose the cyberoid in the maze, but Ezekiel’s roaring voice grew louder. “Therefore as I live, sayeth the Lord God, I will prepare thee unto blood, and blood shall pursue thee; sith thou hast not hated blood, even blood shall pursue thee!”

Jan ran faster. She ducked round another corner. … and found herself in a cul de sac.

Broken walls and stone blocks formed a kind of alleyway that ended in a blank expanse of white stone that was too high for her to scale. It was too late to back-track; Ezekiel was too close. She was trapped.

The consciousness that was observing Jan was not human and it was observing her with an objectivity that was chilling in its absoluteness. Though it had organic components within its system these components were entirely synthetic—the product of a long-vanished laboratory—and lacked the attributes common to all natural life. The entity literally had no emotions; no fears, no desires, no curiosity, no empathy at all with the world it observed through its myriad sensors. It had been programmed to preserve itself, but did not possess the innate drive to survive shared by all natural organisms forged in the genetic furnace of evolution. It was just mind, pure and simple, and therefore not really alive.

But dormant within its system of electronic and organic components was another mind, and this one was human. Or rather, it had been. The first mind deliberated on the problem for several nanoseconds and decided the situation warranted activating the other mind. …

“Ashley. Wake up.”

“What?”(—irritably—)

“Look.”

The other mind looked. Then it (—said—), “Jesus H., what are you waiting for, lame-brain?” (—excitedly—) “Let her in!”

When Jan saw an opening miraculously appear in the wall in front of her she didn’t pause to think but plunged through it—and almost instantly collided with another wall. To her dismay, she found herself in a small, narrow room and the only door was the one she’d come through. She turned and saw Ezekiel striding down the alleyway. “And the Lord said unto him, Go through the midst of the city, through the midst of Jerusalem, and set a mark upon the foreheads of the men that sigh and that cry for all the abominations that be done in the midst thereof!” Jan searched frantically for some way of closing the opening but there wasn’t any.

Ezekiel halted outside and bent down. “And to the others he said in mine hearing, Go ye after him through the city, and smite: let not your eye spare, neither have ye pity.” It reached in through the opening with its mechanical arm. Jan pressed herself against the wall. “No!” she cried. “Leave me alone!”

The opening abruptly closed and there was a clang as the end of Ezekiel’s arm, sheared through, fell to the floor. Then the floor itself began to sink rapidly beneath Jan’s feet and she realized that the whole room was descending into the ground in the same manner as one of the elevators in the Lord Pangloth. It seemed to her that the room travelled a long way before it slowed to a halt. She held her breath as the opening reappeared, letting in bright light. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the light, then she saw that she was looking into a large room that was as lavishly furnished as any of the royal quarters on the Pangloth.

“I’m sorry. The light is obviously too bright for you. I’ll dim them. It’s been so long since they’ve been used.” It was a girl’s voice, friendly and reassuring. Jan stepped into the room but couldn’t see anyone. The lights dimmed and then, suddenly, there she was standing in the centre of the room. Jan couldn’t understand how she had missed seeing her before. As the girl approached her Jan got a shock; for a moment she thought it was Ceri, but then she saw that though the resemblance was very strong, the girl wasn’t Ceri’s double. Her eyes were brown instead of blue and her hair was much lighter.

She stopped some five feet away from Jan and smiled warmly. She wore strange clothes: a very tight pair of blue trousers cut low on the hips, an equally tight yellow shirt, the front of which was tied in a knot that revealed her midriff. Her feet were bare. “Hi, I’m Ashley! What’s your name?” said the girl brightly.

Jan told her her name, then asked if she could sit down. She had started to tremble. Reaction was setting in.

“Oh, of course!” said Ashley. “Sit wherever you like, Jan.”

Jan collapsed on to a well-upholstered couch and wrapped her arms around herself. Ashley, she noticed, remained standing. “Why was that cyberoid trying to kill you?” she asked Jan.

Jan shook her head wearily. “I don’t know. It was mad, I think. That’s what Milo said on the way here … that it had gone insane over the years … Milo said it was very, very old … Milo. …” She just couldn’t accept that Milo was dead. It was impossible!

“Milo was the man the cyberoid killed before he started chasing you?” Ashley asked her gently.

“Yes. You saw it happen?” Jan asked her, surprised.

“No. I watched a replay. Was he your husband?”

“No … not my husband,” said Jan and smiled wryly. She wondered what Ashley meant by ‘replay’.

“Your lover then? Your boyfriend?”

Jan sighed. “No. He wasn’t even my friend, not really. He was just Milo … and now he’s gone. I can’t get over the shock. And I don’t know what I’m going to do now.” To her own surprise she started to cry. She knew she wasn’t crying for Milo; she was crying for herself. “I won’t be able to survive in the blight lands without him.”

“You can stay here, Jan,” said Ashley. “For as long as you like. It’s been so long since I had any company.”

“You live here by yourself?”

“Yes. Except for Carl, and he doesn’t count. He’s not really a male; he’s just a computer program, but I call him Carl to make him seem a little more human. Not that it works. … ” She gave a wistful sigh, then her face brightened again. “Please say you’ll stay here! It would make me so happy!”

Jan wiped her eyes and looked around the large room with its low ceiling. Then she looked back at Ashley. She felt something was not quite right with her but she couldn’t decide what it was. “What exactly is this place?” she asked.

“A shelter,” the girl replied. “Originally it was built as a nuclear bomb shelter but years later my parents had it refurbished as a shelter against the Gene Wars.” Ashley’s expression grew sad. “It didn’t save them though. One of the later designer plague viruses penetrated the filters and other protective barriers and they died. In there. …” Ashley turned and pointed at one of several closed doors leading off from the room.

“But you survived,” said Jan, feeling increasingly puzzled. Her feeling that there was something very strange about Ashley was growing stronger.

“Oh, yes, I survived. And I guess I always will.” She didn’t sound pleased at the prospect.

Jan had a revelation. “You’re an immortal!” she cried. “Like Milo!”

“Your friend was an immortal?” asked Ashley, surprised. “I thought they had all been killed off centuries ago. Anyway, he’s certainly not an immortal now, is he?”

Mystified, Jan said, “But you must be an immortal. You said your parents died during the Gene Wars. And you don’t look any older than me.”

“How old are you?” Ashley asked with what sounded like genuine interest.

Wishing that the girl would stick to the subject Jan said, “I’m eighteen … no, I must be nineteen now.” She realized her birthday must have occurred two or three months ago, but she had lost track of the time.

“I’m younger than you, then. I’m only seventeen. And I’ll always be seventeen. Sweet seventeen.” She gave a wistful sigh again.

Jan began to wonder if Ashley was crazy. Perhaps she was just a refugee from the blight land, like her, who had entered this strange underground place by accident and was now creating fantasies about her past. As she deliberated on the best way of handling Ashley if she was indeed insane, Jan said, “Where do you get your food and water from? And would there be enough for both of us if I was to stay here?”

“Oh,” said Ashley and put a finger to her lips. “I hadn’t thought of that. Just a moment, I’ll ask Carl.” For a very brief moment her eyes went blank, then she smiled at Jan. “Carl says he can activate the food synthesizer again. The basic organic fuels are in the deep freeze and will have to be thawed, which will take some time, but he can get you some water right away. There’s an underground stream down there.” She pointed at the floor.

Jan stared at her. She was mad. “Er … this ‘Carl’ person just spoke to you and told you all that?” she asked hesitantly.

Ashley nodded. “We have a direct link.”

“I see,” said Jan as if that explained everything. “So there is food and water here.” Mention of water made her aware of a raging thirst, and she hoped the water wasn’t another of Ashley’s fantasies. But the girl appeared physically healthy, at least, so she must have been getting food and water from somewhere. Yet, oddly enough, she hadn’t mentioned eating or drinking herself. “Ah, don’t you and Carl need food or water?” she asked, trying to humour her.

“I told you, Carl is a computer program. Programs don’t eat or drink.” She gave a nervous giggle.

“And what about you?”

Ashley bit her lip and looked uncomfortable. She didn’t answer.

“Well?” persisted Jan.

“I suppose I’d better tell you,” said Ashley sadly. “You would have found out sooner or later.”

“Found out what?”

“This.” Ashley walked over to where Jan was sitting on the couch and held out her right hand to her. Puzzled, Jan went to take hold of it. …

… and her hand passed straight through Ashley’s as if it wasn’t there.

“See?” said Ashley and sighed.

Jan shrank back on the couch and stared at her with terrified eyes. “You’re a ghost!” she cried.

“Well, sort of.”

Jan stared about frantically. The luxurious room had suddenly become a frightening place. She was trapped inside it hundreds of feet below the earth with this dead thing. “I want to leave! Please let me go!” she pleaded.

“Oh shit, I was afraid you’d react this way,” said Ashley, backing away from the couch. “Look, I’m not the sort of ghost you seem to think I am.”

“You’re not dead?” Jan asked nervously.

“Oh, I’m dead all right,” Ashley admitted brightly. “Or rather, the original me is. I’m just a recording.”

“A what?”

“You know, a recording. A copy. There was once, centuries ago, a real, live girl called Ashley Vee and a copy was made of her mind and stored in a computer. And I’m that copy.”

“But I can see you,” protested Jan.

“What you can see is a holographic projection controlled by the computer. You do know what a hologram is, do you?”

Jan remembered the ‘entertainments’ of the Aristos. Milo had called them holographic projections, and they had been remarkably realistic too. She relaxed slightly. “So you’re not a ghost …?”

“Not a real one. Only an electronic one. So please don’t go. There’s nothing for you to be afraid of. Please say you’ll stay.”

Jan didn’t know what to do. The knowledge that Ashley wasn’t a supernatural apparition was comforting, but at the same time she still found her presence unnerving. The holographic people in the ‘entertainments’ had appeared real too but they hadn’t carried on conversations with you. “Who did … this … to you? And why?” Jan asked hesitantly.

“My parents,” Ashley answered. “I had this dangerous hobby, you see. Glider flying. Do you know what a glider is?”

Ruefully, she said, “Only too well.” And she told her of the escape from the Lord Pangloth in the Japanese glider.

“Oh, I don’t mean hang-gliding. My glider looked like a plane, with a cockpit and everything. It was called Pegasus, and it had a wing-span of over a hundred feet. I could go up thousands of feet in it. It was beautiful. But my parents were right. I crashed it. And died.”

“You mean you can remember being killed?” Jan asked, shocked.

“Oh no. The last update on the recording occurred two weeks before I was killed, so I have no memory of the last two weeks of ‘my’ life, including the crash itself. Anyway, fearing that I was going to kill myself, my parents wanted to preserve me in some way. Their original intention was to implant the recording of my personality and memories into a clone of myself, but though they were rich they weren’t powerful enough to arrange to have me cloned. At the time I was alive it was highly illegal, you see. So they settled for second best. A hologram. Me.”

Jan was silent for a time as she stared hard at Ashley. The illusion was perfect. It was hard to believe she wasn’t made of flesh and blood. Then she said, “What’s it, well, feel like? Being what you are, I mean.”

Ashley frowned. “Well, that’s kind of hard to put into words. But I can tell you it’s sure not the same as being alive … as being real.”

“But you think, and you have feelings, don’t you?” Jan asked.

“Oh yes, I can think. At least, I think I can think. It’s hard to be sure. The same with feelings. I think I have feelings but they’re not the same as what I had when I was alive. Do you know what I mean?”

“No,” admitted Jan.

Ashley sighed. “It’s difficult to explain … it’s as if my feelings were imitation feelings. Unreal. Yes—” she gave a nod “—I definitely feel unreal. But then that shouldn’t be surprising … I am, after all, just an electronic shadow of my former self.” She smiled at Jan then added, “But I’m fading, I know it. The human bits of me. I’m afraid I’ll eventually end up just like Carl. And, God, he’s boring.”

Jan was trying to imagine what it must be like for Ashley but it was beyond her capability. “How long have you been, er, like this?”

“Just a sec, I’ll ask Carl.” And then without a pause she said, “Four hundred and thirty-nine years.”

“That long? How awful! How do you spend your time down here? You must get very bored.”

“I do, when I’m awake. Most of the time I’m asleep. Well, not really asleep—I don’t dream or anything—I’m actually shut down. But when I’m awake I can make time go very fast, which helps. To talk to you I’ve had to really slow down my thought processes. I haven’t had subjective time to go this slowly since my last visitor.”

“When was that?” asked Jan.

“Oh, about eighty years ago. His name was Vic. A very pretty boy. He took shelter in the ruins to escape some marauders who were pursuing him. He stayed here for ten years then he got sick and died. He didn’t like it down here, which was a shame. That’s him over there.” Ashley turned and pointed. At the same moment the lights brightened and Jan saw, lying on the far side of the room, what appeared to be a pile of bones.

Jan was shocked. “You just left him lying there?”

“What else could I do? I kind of lack substance, as you’ve already noticed,” Ashley said and laughed. “There used to be a couple of servo-mechanisms that kept the shelter clean but they broke down ages ago.”

A worrying thought had occurred to Jan. “You said Vic wanted to leave here. Why didn’t he?”

“Oh, Carl wouldn’t let him, of course. Carl acts as my protector, you see. He doesn’t want knowledge of the shelter’s existence to get out, so he never lets my visitors leave.”

Jan said, “You mean he’s not going to let me leave either?”

Ashley nodded gravely. “I’m afraid so. You aren’t going to be upset, are you?”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“You know what I miss most of all about being alive?” asked Ashley.

“What?”

“Flying. Flying my glider was the greatest. I loved it so much, being up there in the sky.”

“Anything would be better than being stuck down here,” Jan said with feeling. She had only been in the shelter twelve days and already the place profoundly depressed her. At first she had appreciated the sanctuary it had provided from the dangers of the blight land, especially Ezekiel, as well as the food and drink—as bland as the latter had turned out to be—but very quickly she had grown restless and uneasy. It was the fact that she wasn’t allowed to leave that aggravated her dislike of living in the shelter. If she had a free choice she might have been prepared to spend a month or more down there fairly happily. As it was she had become desperate to return to the surface, even though she had no idea of what she would do if she did manage to get back up top. She sighed.

Ashley looked at her with concern. “I’m sorry you don’t like it down here.” Today she was dressed in very short trousers, which she called, appropriately enough, ‘shorts’, a white vest and white shoes and socks. She called these garments her ‘tennis outfit’. A couple of days previously Jan had asked her why she appeared in different clothes each day. Ashley had shrugged and said, “It added to the sense of realism for my parents. I was photographed holographically in lots and lots of different clothes, you see, and they’re all stored in the computer, along with me. Besides, I like to look attractive even now. Mom used to say I was a vain little exhibitionist but I was pretty, wasn’t I?” And she twirled around to show herself off. Jan had said, bleakly, “Yes, you were. Very.” The fact that Ashley’s beautiful body was as insubstantial as a shadow was beginning, she had realized, to get under her skin in more ways than one. And her more than passing resemblance to Ceri didn’t help matters. Another reason for leaving the shelter and returning to the surface. …

“I don’t like being a prisoner. If only I was allowed out for a few minutes of fresh air every day I probably wouldn’t mind it so much down here.”

“Jan, you know if it was up to me you could come and go as you like, but Carl’s in charge and he doesn’t trust you.”

“I know that.” Jan had tried speaking to Carl directly on several occasions. It was an unnerving experience, talking to a disembodied voice that sounded human but was frustratingly unhuman in its responses.

“Anyway, why do you want to risk going topside again? That crazy cyberoid is probably still looking for you.”

“You told me Carl hadn’t seen any sign of him for over a week.”

“Not in the vicinity of the villa, but there’s a limit to Carl’s sensor range. The cyberoid could still be lurking nearby in the woods.”

“I suppose so,” said Jan, worriedly. She had nightmares still about Ezekiel. She would be running through an endless stone maze with the cyberoid close behind her yelling its crazy words about death and vengeance while leaving bloody footprints behind it. The blood was Milo’s. …

“What about Sky Lords? Any more sightings?”

“I’ll ask Carl,” said Ashley. “Yep. One of them passed almost directly overhead a couple of hours ago.”

“Damn.” Carl had made sightings of either the Lord Pangloth or the Perfumed Breeze almost every day since she had arrived. The warlord was not giving up. She shivered at the thought of what he would do to her if she fell into his hands again.

“See?” said Ashley, as if reading her mind. “You’re much better off staying down here. With me. Now come on, stop looking so glum and tell me more about your adventures.”

Ashley had demonstrated an inexhaustible curiosity about Jan’s life and Jan had obliged by spending hours telling her about Minerva and the events following the bombing and her capture. “Adventures? I haven’t had any adventures. I’ve been through an ordeal.” Which is still going on, she added under her breath.

“Well, they sound like adventures to me” Ashley told her. “Go on, tell me again about Prince Caspar. He sounds dreamy.”

Jan sighed. “What more can I say about him?”

“Tell me what happened when you were in bed together.”

Jan couldn’t help feeling mildly shocked. “Why do you want to know that?”

Ashley smiled mischievously. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t want to be impolite,” said Jan slowly, “But I don’t understand how you can be interested in sex when you don’t have, er, a body.”

“But I told you before—I still have feelings. Well, like I said, they’re more the memory of feelings than the real thing. …”

“Feelings, yes,” said Jan with a frown. “That I understand, I think, but sex is, well, an appetite.”

“Oh yes, I have appetites. I mean, they’re just the same as feelings, aren’t they?”

“I suppose so,” said Jan doubtfully.

“My appetites got recorded along with the rest of me,” Ashley told her. “They didn’t think of that when they made me what I am. It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d been transcribed into a cloned body, but being what I am it’s impossible, of course, for me to satisfy any of my appetites. At first it was really awful; I was hungry all the time. But then a technician made some adjustments and kind of dulled my appetite for food. The scientists said they couldn’t just remove all my appetites without the possibility of eradicating parts of my personality completely.”

Jan was trying to imagine what it would be like to be a mind without a body. She tried to imagine being hungry for over 400 years while knowing you would never have the chance to eat again. “You poor thing,” she said.

“Oh, I’m used to it now,” said Ashley cheerfully. “Besides, like all my other ‘feelings’ my appetites are slowly fading away and one day I won’t have any at all.”

“But now you still have, er, sexual urges?”

“Yeah. Kind of. It was a bit of a problem when Vic was here. I told you he was really pretty, didn’t I?” She glanced wistfully at the bones by the wall. “It was a bit of a problem for him too. Not being able to touch me made him go crazy at times.”

Jan felt a twinge of sympathy for the dead Vic. “Did you ever have a lover? When you were alive, I mean?”

“Oh sure. I had two. One was my gliding instructor. He was over thirty but he was dreamy. We did it once in his training glider, fifteen thousand feet up. Marvellous!” She shook her head in wonder at the memory. “So come on, tell me all about what you got up to with your Prince Caspar. I want to hear everything!”

Another three days dragged by. Jan felt increasingly oppressed by the shelter, which consisted of five separate rooms. Apart from the main one, the living room, there were two bedrooms—one of which contained the bones of Ashley’s parents—a kitchen and a bathroom. That, at least, was the accessible area of the place, but Jan knew there were hidden areas containing various machines, including the projectors that created Ashley’s holographic image, which could appear in any part of the shelter. The power source for all the machinery, Carl had informed Jan, came from heat deep within the earth.

In the hope of persuading Carl to let her out Jan spent more and more time talking to ‘him’, much to Ashley’s annoyance. He persistently refused to discuss the reason for her containment but was willing to provide any other kind of information she required. More to alleviate her boredom than anything else she asked about the old world before the Gene Wars, curious to see if Milo had been telling the truth or merely spinning more tall tales. In response, Carl dimmed the lights and a glowing screen appeared suspended in the air. Carl then announced he would replay a series of news transmissions from the periods concerned, which prompted a groan from Ashley. “Oh God, it’s like being back at school. …”

For two days Jan watched fascinated as she watched the images and listened to the different voices from the past. At first it was hard to follow what was going on—many of the words were meaningless to her—but eventually she began to comprehend the overall picture. It seemed to fit with what Milo had told her, and the little she had learned from Ceri.

Long before the Gene Wars the world had been faced with two serious threats; the first had come from nuclear weapons, which had originally been controlled by the two big empires of the latter half of the twentieth century, the Soviet Union and the United States of America. When, at the end of that century, these weapons had spread to many other countries these two empires got very nervous. Then came the ‘Little Armageddon’ war in the Middle East, where nuclear weapons were used for the first time since the Second World War. This settled the minds of the rulers of the two empires and led to the formation of the Soviet-American Alliance at the beginning of the twenty-first century. The Alliance’s first act was to declare all nuclear weapons banned. There was much opposition to this ultimatum, not only from countries who’d possessed their own nuclear arsenals for a long time, such as a country called France, but also from the Federation of Islamic States who had been the victors in the ‘Little Armageddon’ war.

The Alliance reacted ruthlessly to this opposition. Using a few of their own nuclear weapons with what the commentator called ‘surgical precision’, in harness with their ‘orbiting beam weapons’, they ‘cauterized the problem areas’. When the dust cleared the Islamic Federation was once again a collection of individual countries and France had been reduced to a purely agricultural economy. The other nations saw the point of the Alliance’s argument and handed over their nuclear weapons. When the Alliance was satisfied that no other such weapons existed, nor the means to manufacture them in future, it destroyed its own nuclear arsenal and remaining nuclear reactors. The nuclear age was over.

The other great threat had appeared in the early nineteen-eighties, though it had probably been around unnoticed for a long time before that. It was a plague caused by a type of virus that normally only affected animals—a ‘lentivirus’. The theory was that the virus had jumped the ‘species barrier’ from a species of African monkeys to humans.

Whatever the origin of the virus it spread rapidly and by the end of the twentieth century had infected one in every ten people on the planet. It was literally decimating the world’s population. And being a lentivirus it possessed genetic characteristics that made it very difficult to combat. The genegineers—called ‘microbiologists’, Jan noted, in these early reports—tried for years to create a safe vaccine but without success.

A parallel line of attack on the virus had been going on for some time by other genegineers. They had been trying to build their own virus—a synthetic ‘hunter-killer’ virus using altered genetic material from the plague virus itself. A virus is a genetic parasite—it invades a cell and hi-jacks the cell’s own DNA in order to replicate itself. The hunter-killer virus would, in theory, not only seek out and destroy the plague virus within an infected system but also penetrate infected cells and insert modified DNA into the cells’ nuclei that would neutralize the DNA created by the invading plague virus, thus preventing further replication. That was the theory, but to turn it into working reality involved major breakthroughs in the mapping and manipulation of human DNA. The enormity of their task was succinctly summed up by one startling image—that if you were to lay all the DNA in a single human being end to end the chain would reach the moon and back 8,000 times.

Finally, however, they did succeed—their synthetic virus acted as both a cure and a super-vaccine and the plague was quickly eradicated.

But the major breakthroughs that had been achieved in human genetic engineering on the way to creating the synthetic virus had other important repercussions for the whole human race: in the same way that the virus had been used to cure infected cells it was now possible to make all manner of modifications to human DNA. It could be altered to improve the immune system, to eradicate diseases like cancer, to increase the human life span … all the modifications that were eventually incorporated into the Standard Prime.

At the same time genetic engineering in other areas had also made tremendous progress—new strains of cereal had been created that were disease resistant and could grow in arid conditions; the ‘bio-chip’ had replaced the silicon chip, resulting in much more efficient computer systems; new forms of bacteria had been created to perform a whole variety of industrial functions, from producing cheap fuels to making things like imitation wood pulp that could be turned into paper; there were the biological fuel cells and synthetic chlorophyll that turned the sun’s rays into electricity. …

The list of wonders seemed endless. It seemed as if all the traditional scourges of humanity would be eradicated forever. The genegineers had brought the world to the verge of a true Golden Age.

But it was not to be.

According to the long-dead voices that accompanied the images on the floating screen it was the creation of the Standard Prime genetically-altered human being that led indirectly to the Gene Wars. Up until then, and for some time after that, the United Nations possessed real power, as it was backed by the Soviet-American Alliance. It had enough power to enforce its rulings on those areas of micro-biological research and genetic manipulation that were forbidden but, as Milo had told her, the coming of the Standard Prime caused the break-up of the bigger nations into independent states. The disintegration of both America and Russia into smaller states meant, of course, the end of the Alliance and, in turn, the end of the power that had been wielded by the United Nations.

In the chaos that followed it was the multi-national corporations, most of which relied on genetic engineering patents for their wealth, who emerged as the true holders of power. And with the United Nations effectively finished as a law enforcing agency it meant all the restraints on genetic engineering were gone. The corporations could now do whatever they wanted.

Even before then there had been rumours of the rich and powerful experimenting in forbidden areas. There were tales of incredible creations hidden behind locked doors; of billionaires stocking their private islands and estates with all manner of exotic creatures—sexual fantasies made flesh by the genegineers; and there were stories that certain heads of states and corporations were building up secret armies composed of terrible beings who were nothing but living weapons.

All these rumours turned out to be true.

With the United Nations and the Alliance gone the corporations began to war amongst themselves. The independent states were dragged into the conflict, having to pledge allegiance to one corporation or the other. The Gene Wars had begun.

After a decade of fighting using their genetically engineered armies, the Wars entered a new and more deadly stage when one of the corporations initiated germ warfare—something that all the corporations had originally sworn not to do. It was the beginning of the end.

The first targets were agricultural ones—cereal crops and the like. Then came fungi engineered to eat vital parts of electronic systems, as well as practically everything else. Finally the inevitable happened—the unleashing of the designer plagues specifically engineered to kill people.

Millions and millions died. Whole cities became deserted virtually overnight. Civilization collapsed.

Carl informed Jan at this point that there were no more news tapes.

Jan had been profoundly moved by what she had seen during her two days of watching the screen, but what had most affected her had been a report on Minerva shortly after it had been established as an independent state. Jan wept as she saw what Minerva had once been and what a sad remnant of that once great society her Minerva had been. She also saw, reluctantly, that the early Minervans had made use of Old Science. In fact, as Milo had told her, the very creation of a society where women could overthrow the natural inequalities imposed by their sex rested on the work of the genegineers.

But though it went against all she had been taught by her religious teachers, she found she could now come to terms with this knowledge. The important thing was the ideal behind Minerva itself and she felt a huge weight of responsibility descend on her as she realized that she had been cast by fate, or the Mother God, to be the last, living embodiment of that ideal. It was up to her to keep it alive. Not only alive but to see it somehow flourish again. …

Some hope of that, she thought bitterly.

As two more days passed Jan began to suspect, from the evasive way Carl reacted to her requests to be set free, that it might not be him that was keeping her prisoner but Ashley.

The idea made sense. Ashley seemed to have control over Carl in all other areas. She was determined to keep Jan with her but blamed the situation on Carl so as to not attract Jan’s anger. Presuming that this was the case Jan realized she would now have to concentrate on trying to persuade Ashley that she should be set free.

But how?

It was the morning of the sixteenth day and Jan was in the bathroom cutting her hair. She had decided that the long Aristo style was too big a nuisance and that it would be better to have it cropped short. She was staring at her reflection in the mirror when a possible solution to her problems occurred to her. She froze as the plan unfolded in her mind like a seed sprouting. The seed grew … it put down roots, leaves spread and, finally, a flower opened its petals. She had the solution.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Trying to conceal her state of intense excitement, Jan walked back into the living room and said calmly, “Ashley, are you there?”

“Of course,” came Ashley’s voice and she materialized in front of Jan. Today she was wearing a long back dress that left one breast bare. She looked very beautiful. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Flying.”

Ashley’s face lit up. “My favourite subject!”

“I know. What would you say if I told you there’s a chance you could fly again?”

Ashley stared at her. “What do you mean? There’s no possible way I can fly again. I’m trapped down here. Like you. No, I’m more trapped than you. I’m in a computer. You know that.”

“Yes. I’ve been learning a lot about computers. First from Milo and now from Carl. I told you about Milo’s plan, didn’t I? How he intended to enter the Sky Tower in the city and use the computer within it to summon down the Sky Angel from space?”

“Yes, yes,” said Ashley impatiently. “But what’s that got to do with me?”

“You and Carl can be separated from the computer, can’t you? The essential bits of you, I mean. The programs.”

“Of course. We’re on the same piece of software. Why?”

“The type of computer here—are its parts interchangeable with other computers? Such as the ones in the city?” Jan asked her.

“Most likely,” said Ashley. Then after a pause she said, “I’ve just asked Carl and he said yes. All the bio-chip computer systems were compatible.”

Jan said, “So if I were to take your ‘software’, take it into the city and insert it in the computer in the Sky Tower you and Carl would come to life again—inside that computer?”

“Yes,” said Ashley doubtfully. “Provided that the computer there was still working. …”

“It is. Milo established that from the Lord Pangloth’s control room.”

“So?” Ashley shrugged. “What good would it do me to be transferred to this other computer? I wouldn’t even have my holographic projection facilities.”

“I haven’t finished yet. Once inside that computer you and Carl would be in control of it, right? You would be able to take over its functions?”

“Yes,” said Ashley with an impatient sigh. “Provided you removed the original software first.”

“Good. Then you and Carl could do what Milo planned to do. Make the Sky Tower computer send the signal that would bring the Sky Angel down from space?”

“Well, Carl could, I suppose,” said Ashley, frowning. “But I still don’t see the point.”

“If I had access to the Sky Angel I could then take your software from the tower’s computer and insert it in the Sky Angel’s. And what would happen then?” Ashley didn’t answer for some time. Jan guessed she was in communication with Carl. Then, with eyes wide with excitement, she said, “I could become linked up with the Sky Angel’s every sensor. I could control its every movement. I could be the Sky Angel!”

“That’s what I thought,” said Jan with satisfaction.

“So what are we waiting for?” cried Ashley. “Let’s leave right away. I’ll show you how to remove the software.”

“Calm down,” Jan cautioned. “You must know that everything I just told you is out of the question.”

Ashley looked stricken. “Why? Why is it out of the question?” she demanded.

“Well, for a start I can’t leave here, can I? Carl won’t let me.”

“Oh, is that all?” said Ashley, relieved. “Don’t worry, I’ll soon sort him out.”

I thought you would, thought Jan in triumph.

Jan was almost ready to leave. But now that the moment was near Jan was suddenly unwilling to return to the surface. It was safe down in the shelter while the surface held nothing but dangers. And even with the weapons that Ashley had supplied her from a hidden compartment in the main bedroom she knew her chances of reaching the Sky Tower were not good. There was also the strong possibility that she would succumb to whatever plague viruses or spores still lurked in the city itself.

When she’d expressed this latter fear, Ashley had conferred with Carl, then said brightly, “Oh, you can wear an anticontamination suit!” Another previously concealed panel had opened in the main bedroom to reveal a row of hanging, one-piece suits made of some smooth, white material. Jan took one of them out and examined it. It had a hood that would completely cover the head. Like the old clothes of Ashley’s that Jan was now wearing in preference to the smelly rags of Ezekiel’s people the suit seemed to be in good condition despite its great age. She asked Ashley about this.

“Oh, it’s probably to do with the lack of air,” she told Jan uninterestedly. “Carl pumps all the air out of the shelter when I don’t have, er, visitors. He lowers the temperature too. Go on, put it on.”

Jan had obediently climbed into the anti-contamination suit and closed all the seals. She peered out through the visor on the head-piece. Below the visor was a protruding nozzle which admitted air whenever she breathed in. She presumed the nozzle contained filters to keep out harmful organisms. Ashley confirmed this.

“Do they work?” Jan asked her.

“I don’t know. The suits were to be used in an emergency. If Mum and Dad had to make a journey out on the surface for some reason. But they never got a chance to use them. The plague got in here first.”

“Through the same sort of filters?” Jan asked, her heart sinking.

“I guess so,” said Ashley, reluctantly.

“Well, this is a waste of time then,” said Jan, and she unsealed the hood and pushed it back so that it hung behind her. She decided, however, to keep the suit on. Its material was reassuringly thick and would offer some protection out in the blight land.

The weapons that Carl had advised her to select from the small armoury were two rifle-like devices. One, he informed her, was a laser. The other fired explosive projectiles which, he told her, were ‘smart bullets’. “When you have your target centred in the scope on top of the weapon simply press the firing button. The image in the scope is imprinted on the projectile’s ‘brain’ and it will make all the necessary manoeuvres to reach its target. Then it explodes.”

Jan had been impressed. Surely the weapon would be more than enough to deal with Ezekiel if she should encounter the creature.

“I’ve recharged the power units on both weapons,” said Carl, but then added blandly, “The laser should function efficiently but I can’t guarantee that the ammunition in the other weapon hasn’t deteriorated to the point of being useless.”

“Oh, great,” Jan had muttered.

Now she stood in the living room, weighed down by both weapons, her sword harness and a backpack containing food and water. “All ready?” Ashley asked eagerly. She looked very excited.

“I suppose so,” Jan answered without enthusiasm.

“Carl and I will shut down now. Then a panel will open and reveal the computer console. Carl has told you how to remove the software?”

“Yes.”

“The elevator will operate automatically. Carl says there’s no sign of the cyberoid, or any Sky Lords.”

“Good,” said Jan, her mouth dry.

“Right then, here we go … Oh, and Jan, you will be very careful with the software, won’t you? I know I’m not really alive but I still don’t want to die. Again.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Ashley then vanished. There was silence.

“Ashley, Carl?” said Jan.

No answer. She suddenly felt very alone. Then she gave a start as a panel slid open in the wall in front of her with a mechanical whine. She saw a row of lights. She approached the console and pressed the two buttons that Carl had told her to press. A small glass panel slid open in the console and she reached inside and withdrew the software. Jan was surprised to see that it consisted of a small tube about four inches long and one and a half inches in width. She found it hard to believe that it contained all of Ashley’s memories, her mind and emotions, not to mention Carl as well. She carefully put it in her backpack and turned towards the elevator. As she approached it the door opened.

She hesitated when she saw Ezekiel’s mechanical hand still lying on the floor of the elevator. Then she stepped over it and kicked it out into the living room with the toe of her boot. The door closed.

When the door opened again Jan was dazzled by bright sunlight. Then she gagged as the stench of the fungus hit her. She was tempted to put the hood back on but feared it would restrict her vision and hearing. She wanted to be fully alert for any sign of Ezekiel.

The alley between the stones was empty. She emerged cautiously from the elevator, the laser in her hands. The projectile weapon remained strapped over her shoulder. Slowly she retraced her footsteps of nineteen days ago until the spot where Milo died was visible once again. She hesitated by the great block of white stone, still expecting the cyberoid to leap shrieking into view at any moment.

Finally, she approached the site of Milo’s death. There was nothing left of him but bones. Animals had eaten his flesh, insects had stripped the remaining organic matter from his bones.

His bones gleamed.

She squatted down beside them. They weren’t ordinary bones. They seemed to be made of a mixture of metal and some other material. None of them had been damaged by Ezekiel’s onslaught. Even Milo’s skull was intact. It had a bluish sheen to it, as did his other bones.

She reached out with tentative fingers and touched it. Then she came to a decision, hooked a finger through one of the eye sockets and picked it up. It was very light. She stood and, after a cautious scan of the nearby trees, took off her pack and put Milo’s skull inside it. Then she shouldered her pack again and headed towards the city.

It was mid-afternoon when she reached the outskirts of the city. She had got that far without serious incident, with the exception of an encounter with one of the big reptiles. It had come lumbering towards her through the trees, but she had fired the laser at it and the thing had abruptly collapsed into a twitching heap when it was still some fifty feet away. There had been no sign of Ezekiel, but Jan couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was near. And following her.

The outskirts of the city consisted of the ruins of private dwelling places set in their own rather spacious grounds. The fungus, she noticed, didn’t grow in the same profusion as it did in the woods. She paused to rest, sitting down on the remains of a stone wall. She propped the laser up alongside her then took one of the canteens out of the back-pack and had a drink of water.

Some minutes later she decided to push on but before she did she pulled the hood on and sealed it. Maybe it would do her no good at all, or maybe it was too late and one of the designer plagues was already at work inside her body, but it was better than nothing.

As Jan walked she kept turning to look behind her, the laser at the ready. She would give Ezekiel, or anything else for that matter, no chance of catching her by surprise. Occasionally she also looked upwards but the clear sky remained devoid of Sky Lords.

The further she penetrated into the city the less fungus there was. It was as if even those loathsome growths shunned this place of such awful death. It was hot wearing the hood and sweat streamed down her face but she was determined to keep it on. What she would do when she became desperate for a drink of water, or needed to take a pee, she would worry about later.

She was passing vehicles now. Some had wheels but many didn’t and she wondered how the latter managed to move about. She peered into their interiors occasionally, but there was no trace left of their long-dead owners apart from scraps of clothing. Yet the upholstery on the seats looked almost new.

The buildings grew higher and closer together as she continued onwards. Jan could still see the upper part of the Sky Tower looming ahead of her but it didn’t seem to be getting any closer. With alarm, she realized the sun would be going down soon.

Her footsteps on the strange surface of the roadway echoed back and forth from the walls and façades of the buildings. She kept to the middle of the road, nervously eyeing the darkened doorways and blank windows. The feeling that she was being watched was getting stronger. Jan stopped and listened carefully. Surely if Ezekiel was close by she would hear its heavy tread. But there was no sound at all. She continued on, keeping a tight grip on the laser, which provided a certain comfort.

The sun sank behind the tall buildings. Long shadows filled the artificial valley she moved through. Jan wished Milo was with her, despite everything she had felt about him. She thought of his skull resting in her backpack and wondered again why she had decided to take it. Probably because she felt she owed something to his memory. …

Her head was aching. Was it the first symptom of plague? She was thirsty too. If she was sick it wasn’t going to make any difference if she removed the hood to drink some water.

She resisted the temptation. Darkness quickly fell and she stopped to remove the recharged flashlight that Carl had provided her with. It was difficult holding it and the laser together, but the powerful beam of light reassured her as she swept it back and forth ahead of her. But the feeling that she was being watched remained.

Jan was exhausted by the time she entered the plaza in which stood the Sky Tower. She rocked back dizzily on her heels as she tilted back her head and stared up at it. How on earth was she going to get to its summit? There were glass cylinders on its side which were obviously exterior elevators, but without any power source they were useless.

As she walked across the plaza, which was covered in different coloured tiles illustrated with drawings of balloons similar to the ones used by the Bandalans, she became aware that a fountain was working. She stopped again and stared at it. As she wondered how it operated after all this time she became even more acutely aware of her thirst.

She turned away from it and continued on towards the Sky Tower. The base of the Tower, she saw, was open on all sides—supported by a series of pillars that appeared to be ridiculously thin to be the foundations of such an immense structure. Jan climbed up some steps and went inside. She swept the beam about. The lobby was empty apart from a circular elevator and a staircase that led up into the ceiling. She went to the stairs and sat down on the bottom one. She intended to rest for a while and then begin the long climb. She hoped that the stairs continued all the way to the top, otherwise she didn’t know what she was going to do.

Jan awoke with a start. She hadn’t meant to go to sleep. She sat up and felt for the laser and the flashlight. She found the flashlight. The laser was nowhere to be found.

As a flutter of panic began to grow in her stomach she switched on the flashlight. The beam illuminated a large form sitting on the lobby floor about ten feet away. The laser lay beside it.

It was the black panther.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The panther’s eyes glowed yellow in the beam of the flashlight. It was sitting on its haunches like a house cat, its front legs straight. It seemed to be grinning at her, as it had on that day so long ago.

Jan was overcome with shock. She couldn’t understand how the panther could be here in this city hundreds of miles from where Minerva had stood. The Mother God was surely punishing her for some sin she had committed. Punishing her …? No … mocking her.

She considered reaching for the projectile weapon still strapped over her shoulder, but knew that the panther could be on her before she could unstrap it and aim. And there was the possibility that the thing wouldn’t even work. She had her swords but, again, in the time it took to draw one of them the panther could easily attack her. She glanced wistfully at the laser by the panther’s front foot. The panther glanced at it too then casually put its paw on the weapon. It said, in its familiar sibilant hiss, “Nasssty thing. Don’t like. You won’t touch.”

“No, I won’t touch,” Jan assured it nervously.

The panther continued to stare at her with its great yellow eyes. Jan considered throwing the flashlight at it as a diversion, but knew that would be futile as well.

Finally she said, “Why are you following me? How did you find me?”

The panther hissed. “Follow you …? I not follow you.”

“Yes you did,” Jan told it accusingly. “All the way from Minerva. Where you killed Carla after I refused to let you into the town.”

“Young Missssy talk crazy,” said the panther and gave a dismissive snort.

“You’re playing with me,” said Jan, remembering how she had watched Minervan cats torture mice before killing them. “Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with.”

“Why me kill missy?” said the panther. “Only kill missy if you try hurt me. This cat only kill male people. Always trust women people. They have never tried to hurt cat.”

Jan frowned in puzzlement. What kind of game was the panther playing now? Then it occurred to her to shine the flashlight beam lower down on the animal’s body. She almost laughed aloud with relief at what she saw. Or rather, at what she didn’t see.

It wasn’t the same animal. It was a female.

Even though she was relieved that it was a different panther from the one she had encountered at the gate of Minerva, and a female at that, Jan still didn’t trust it. But she was going to wait and see what developed before she attempted any reckless move. The panther had told her she’d spotted her entering the plaza and was curious as to what a human was doing in this ‘death place’. Jan, in turn, asked the panther what she was doing in the city. Wasn’t she scared of the sickness too?

“Been here long time now. Not sick,” said the panther. “Mother warn me keep away. Mother’s mother warn her. But I old cat. Tired. Hunting not good Out There …” The panther turned its head to indicate the blight lands. “Decide to come here. Take chance. Wait, but nothing happen. Water good. Hunting better. Animals come here. No People. You the first.”

Jan wondered whether or not to believe the panther. A ‘long time’ could mean anything in the animal’s time scale, from a couple of days to a couple of months. But then, even a couple of days would be more than sufficient for the plague to strike and the panther looked healthy. Jan was hot, thirsty, hungry and desperate for a pee. There was no way she could stay sealed up in the suit for much longer.

“Have you seen a machine in the city?” she asked the panther.

“Maccchine?”

“One that walks on two legs. Like a man.”

The panther flicked its thick tail. “No see machine that walks.”

Well, that’s something, thought Jan. She shifted her position on the uncomfortable stair, taking care to move slowly so as to not alarm the animal. Then she came to a decision. “I’m going to take my weapons off. I don’t mean you any harm. Understand?”

“Understand.”

She put the torch down on the floor, the beam still pointing at the great cat. Then she slowly unstrapped the projectile weapon from her shoulder and, holding it by the barrel, placed it on the floor beside the torch where it was clearly visible. She then removed her back-pack and weapons harness and dropped them on the floor as well. The panther watched her every move with its unreadable yellow eyes. Jan said, “I’m going to get something out of my bag here. It’s not a weapon. Just a water container.”

The panther gave a nod. Jan got out one of the two canteens. Then, after a long hesitation, she undid the seals and pulled back her hood. She took a deep breath. There, it was too late now. She lifted the canteen and drank.

When she next awoke dawn was breaking over the city of towers. The panther, she saw, was lying about fifteen feet away. It was awake and watching her. It hadn’t eaten her while she slept, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t saving her for breakfast. Jan sat up on her makeshift bed, which consisted of the anticontamination suit and the back-pack, and said, “Good morning.”

The panther made a growling sound deep in its throat. Jan decided to interpret it as a friendly response. Maybe it was purring. She felt strangely cheerful, mainly because she was still alive. The panther hadn’t eaten her and she didn’t, as far as she knew, have the plague. Not a bad start to the day, all things considered.

She got up and walked out into the plaza. The panther stayed where she was but turned her head to watch Jan as she left. Jan went to the fountain, cupped water in her hands, and drank. The water tasted cold and fresh. She then looked round the plaza, but nothing moved. She felt confident that the clanking Ezekiel wouldn’t be able to get close without being detected by the panther. She took off Ashley’s clothes—a shirt, trousers, briefs and boots that the dead girl had last worn centuries ago—and climbed into the fountain. The water was shockingly cold as she lowered herself into it, but at the same time it felt marvellously invigorating. She lay on her back in the water and stared up at the Sky Tower. All she had to do was climb to its top, find the computer, insert Ashley and Carl’s ‘software’ into it and then order it to summon down the Sky Angel all the way from its home far beyond the blue sky. Simple!

She didn’t reach the top of the tower until the middle of the afternoon. She had been obliged to stop and rest several times, her legs throbbing with pain and her lungs heaving. The panther, who had accompanied her, stopped when she did, though it didn’t show any sign of undue exertion. Jan guessed it could have loped to the summit and back down again without any problem.

During one of her first rest-stops she had asked the panther why she was coming with her. By that time they had reached a position of mutual trust—Jan had the laser strapped over her shoulder again. The panther, who called herself Frusa, had shrugged and said, “Cat bored. Cat curious.” Jan had accepted this. Unlike normal animals the enhanced animals were prone to such human ills as boredom. She’d tried to explain the reason for her mission to the Sky Tower, but she wasn’t sure how much the panther understood.

“Thank the Mother God!” Jan cried with relief when she reached the end of the staircase. But then she saw she still hadn’t found her destination. The floor she was on was devoid of equipment and was obviously once used simply as a viewing platform, as it was encircled by windows. The Sky Angel’s control centre had to be on the floor above, but how was she to gain access to it?

In the centre of the circular floor was a thick metal pillar which appeared to be the only means of support for the uppermost section of the tower. As the panther sat watching, she went to the pillar and examined it. It took two circuits round the pillar before she noticed the outline of the door set flush in its shiny surface. There was also a narrow opening about two inches long which presumably took some kind of key. She tried to prise the door open with her fingernails but it was useless. Out of frustration she kicked it, and jumped back with alarm when a voice said, “Do that again and I’ll call the police.”

Jan looked around, but apart from Frusa the place was empty. She looked back at the door. The voice had come out of the pillar. Was there someone behind the door? “Who are you?” she asked warily.

“I’m a public information facility and for your information, you being a member of the public, you can’t come in here. The summit of the Sky Tower is off-limits to unauthorized personnel.” The voice, a man’s, sounded testy.

The panther had come over and was sniffing at the door. “Sound like man but no man. No one here,” she told Jan.

Jan nodded. She had already guessed that the voice was an artificial one like Carl’s, or Ashley’s. It was being produced by some kind of machine in the pillar. “Please let me in,” she commanded. “I am authorized. I’m on an important mission.”

“Are you really? What’s your authorization code, then?” asked the voice. It sounded vaguely sarcastic.

“Uh, I don’t have one, but you must believe me—it’s vital that I get into the top of the tower.”

“I hear that every day, madam, believe me. Now please be on your way. Visiting hours are almost over. And take your pet with you.”

Jan began to feel angry. “Look, machine, or whatever you are, visiting hours have been over in here for quite a long time. Several hundred years, in fact. The city out there is dead. My ‘pet’ and I are the only living things around for miles. Whatever instructions you were given once upon a time don’t matter any more. So I demand you let me in!”

The voice didn’t answer for some moments, then it said, “The summit of the Sky Tower is off-limits to unauthorized personnel.”

Jan groaned, then kicked the door again. The voice said, “That’s it, the last straw—I must warn you that I am calling the police.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” muttered Jan. After some deliberation she unshouldered the laser and, warning Frusa to stand clear, aimed it at the lock and fired. Sparks flew and metal sizzled. The voice said, “Well, you’re in big trouble now, madam!”

“Oh, shut up!” cried Jan as she continued to fire the laser.

She had to cut right through the door before it finally swung open to reveal a tightly spiralled staircase made of some translucent material. The voice, after several more warnings and threats about the police, had fallen silent. Jan experienced a feeling of triumph as she began to climb the staircase. Almost there! And she had done it without Milo.

At the top of the staircase she found herself in a small, circular area and facing another door. Jan sighed, anticipating further debate with a mechanical voice, but when she touched a glowing button on the door it slid open without any problem. A stream of fresh air wafted over her and she stepped through the door. That should have alerted her to something being wrong, but she was too preoccupied with her sense of achievement to notice.

Then she saw the three samurai. They had been sitting, cross-legged, around a brazier on which bowls of food were steaming. Their bed rolls and weapons lay scattered about and they had obviously been in the Sky Tower for a considerable length of time. They hadn’t been aware of her presence until the door had opened but now they were reacting with alarming speed, grabbing for their swords and leaping to their feet.

Jan lifted the laser and pressed the firing button. Nothing happened. She guessed she’d exhausted its power supply by cutting through the door below. One of the samurai, the nearest, gave a shrieking cry as he charged at her.

She was knocked to one side as something large and very heavy bounded past her. It was Frusa. The leading samurai screamed as she brought him down under her weight. She gave him what seemed to be nothing more than a cuff on the side of the head, but it took half of his face away. Frusa did this without even pausing in her forward rush. She was on the second samurai before he had time even to attempt to defend himself. The third one stood frozen, eyes wide, as Frusa tore out the other man’s throat. Then he came to life and raised his sword to hack at Frusa.

Jan threw the laser at him. It hit him on the shoulder, making him stagger sideways. Jan drew her short sword and ran forward, but before she could reach him Frusa struck again, knocking the samurai off his feet with a murderous swipe of her paw. Jan turned her head as the great jaws snapped shut on fragile flesh and bone, cutting off the man’s screams.

When she looked again the panther was sitting calmly beside the corpse, blood running down the black fur on its chin. “Thank you,” Jan said weakly.

“They men. Cat don’t like men. Kill men.”

“Yes, you certainly do …” Jan said. “How did you know they were here?”

“Smell them. After you go up ladder. Strong man smell.”

Jan nodded. That had been when she’d opened the other door. She remembered the breeze as she’d entered and looked around. The summit room of the Sky Tower was like the interior of a giant crystal. The curving walls and ceiling were made of faceted, translucent glass which gave the air a luminous quality. All about were pieces of equipment with glass exteriors which enabled you to see the mysterious patterns created by their electronic nervous systems. Jan spotted where the samurai had gained entrance to the summit room—there was a four foot hole up by the base of the ceiling. On a catwalk below the hole were three folded-up gliders. They had either smashed their way through the crystal or used an explosive charge.

Their presence in the summit room held all manner of grim implications for Jan. It meant that the warlord had remembered the true location of the Sky Angel’s control centre, as Milo had feared he would. It also meant that the warlord might already have sent the signal that would bring the remaining Sky Angel down to Earth.

The sound of flesh ripping distracted her. She turned and saw that the panther had begun to eat one of the dead samurai. She grimaced. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

It swallowed a large gobbet of meat and said, “Cat hungry. Cat eat.”

“Well … can’t you do it somewhere else?” asked Jan, trying not to look at what the cat was doing.

The cat hesitated, growled, then dragged the body towards the door. Jan took off her back-pack and then sat down on it. She needed to think. Already she was having doubts about her initial interpretation of the Japanese presence in the Tower. If the warlord had left them behind to ambush Milo and herself, surely he would deployed more than just three men. He knew Milo’s abilities. Three wouldn’t have stood a chance against him. Nor did they appear to have had guns; they were armed only with swords. Perhaps they were just one of several groups of samurai scattered throughout the city to act as look-outs. Perhaps they were in the Sky Tower just by accident. Hadn’t she felt she was being watched ever since she’d arrived in the city? But why hadn’t they attacked her? Probably because they were on the look-out for two people. A lone woman would have aroused their curiosity, but they had no way of knowing it was her. Besides, Milo was the important one as far as the warlord was concerned.

Whatever the reason for their presence in the Sky Tower, one thing was certain—it meant that the Lord Pangloth, or the Perfumed Breeze, would be returning.

She opened the backpack and reached in for the tube that contained Ashley and Carl. As she was feeling for it she touched something metallic and realized it was Milo’s skull. She took it out and placed it on the floor in front of her. The empty sockets stared accusingly at her. She tried to analyse her feelings about Milo and his death, but everything was too jumbled up in her mind. The pieces would have to settle before she could even begin to examine how she felt.

Jan smiled sadly at the skull. “Well, Milo, we made it. With a bit of help from a cat,” She reached in the bag again and found the tube, then began to examine the different pieces of transparent equipment in the circular room.

Because everything looked so unfamiliar it took her some time to find the part of the computer that housed the software. Then she frowned when she saw, through the transparent top, that the computer contained a whole row of similar tubes. Worriedly, she pressed the buttons that ejected the tubes then inserted her single one. Then she waited.

Nothing happened.

Chapter Thirty

Something made a loud beeping sound on the other side of the room and Jan jumped. She turned. A screen had risen from a console on which a red light was flashing. She hurried over to it with relief. At least a minute had passed since she’d inserted the tube and she had begun to fear that the computer was no longer functioning.

There were words on the screen: “Hi! It’s me, Ashley! ol’ lame-brain Carl has been having a bit of trouble sorting things out. Can’t activate any of the voice synthesizers yet. Wants you to reinsert as many of the original software tubes as you can back into the mainframe. There’s info on them he needs. He wants to copy it on to our software. Hurry, will you? I want to be able to see and hear again. Much love, Ashley.”

Not being very good at reading, it took Jan a while before she understood the bulk of the message on the screen. She frowned. “Mainframe? What’s that?” she asked.

The words on the screen remained the same. She read the message through again and realized that Ashley couldn’t hear her. Then she worked out that the ‘mainframe’ must refer to the computer where she’d inserted the tube. She returned to it and studied the six other tubes that she’d left lying on its glass top. There was only space in the computer for five now. Did it matter which? Well, she would soon find out, she thought, as she began to push the tubes into the opening. The computer hummed as it took the tubes one by one and drew them deep into itself. Jan became aware of more lights starting to flash on other pieces of equipment. She could feel the circular room of crystal starting to come alive.

The air crackled. Then a voice said, “Ah, that’s better! Light and sound! Hi, Jan! Have you missed me?”

It was Ashley. The voice wasn’t the same as the one in the shelter—it was neither male or female—but it was unmistakably Ashley. “Hello Ashley,” said Jan, looking around for the source of the voice. “You can see me now?” And hear me?”

“Yup. Place is loaded with sensors, inside and out. But Carl couldn’t activate them until he got the drill from the other programs. Can you insert the final one now?”

Jan saw one of the tubes starting to emerge from the computer. She took it out and replaced it with the sixth tube. As the computer ingested it, Ashley cried, “Wow, what’s been happening in here? Who are those guys?”

Jan guessed she was referring to the dead Japanese. She had been avoiding looking at them as they lay there in their large pools of congealing blood. “They’re the warlord’s men. They were waiting here.”

“Jesus, did you do that to them?”

“Of course not. Frusa did.”

“Frusa? Who’s Frusa?”

“She’s a cat.”

At that moment the panther, no doubt curious about the sound of voices, came in through the door. “Jesus,” said Ashley, that’s some cat.” The panther sniffed the air and said to Jan, “Hear voice, but no one here.”

“There is someone here, Frusa. Her name is Ashley. She’s a friend. Ashley, say something nice to Frusa.”

“Hello, pussycat. You’re real cute. You know, I had a coat exactly like yours once. Oh, but it wasn’t real fur, it was synthetic.”

The panther looked at Jan. “No one here.” Then it turned and went back out through the door.

“I’m sorry,” Jan told Ashley. “It seems that if Frusa can’t smell someone they don’t exist.”

There was a pause before Ashley replied. “But she’s right. I don’t exist. Carl wants to talk to you. Bye.”

“Ashley …?”

“This is Carl.” It was the same voice but infinitely different. “I have made contact with the computer controlling the Sky Angel factory facility. I am currently transmitting the sequence of codes which will initiate the launching of the Sky Angel from the facility.”

“Oh,” she said, taken by surprise. “That was quick. Where did you find these codes?”

“In this computer’s memory.”

“Yes, of course.” She should have known that. “So everything is going fine. The Sky Angel is going to come down here without any problem?” Jan couldn’t believe it was going to be so easy. …

“All systems are functioning. I can foresee no problem.”

“Great. When will it get here?”

“In eight and a half days from now.”

“Eight and a half days? That’s a long time.”

“It has a long way to travel. It will take four days to reach the Earth’s atmosphere. Its descent path will bring it down over Australia. It will take another four days to reach here travelling at top speed.”

“What’s Australia?”

“An island continent in the Southern Hemisphere.”

“Why can’t you make the Sky Angel come down here instead of in this Australia place that’s so far away?” Jan asked.

“The procedure for bringing a Sky Angel down through the atmosphere—intact—is a very complicated one. The mathematics of the procedure are also very complicated and are an integral part of the whole system. For me to alter the system at this stage would be unwise. There may be random factors that the original program is designed to compensate for but of which I am ignorant. I advise you to follow the established procedure.”

She sighed. “If you say so.” Eight and a half days. What if the warlord returned before then? Or, more likely, other Japanese arrived to relieve the ones who had been here? Well, she had the panther for protection, provided Frusa didn’t get bored and wander off. And there was the laser, except that. …

“Carl, is there any way you can recharge the laser?”

“No. I have power but not the means to transfer it to the laser’s fuel cell.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. That left only the projectile weapon, and Carl had made her dubious about that. Then a question occurred to her. “Carl, where is the power coming from?”

“The sun. There are arrays of solar energy receptors on the outside of the tower.”

Sun-gatherers. Jan nodded her understanding, though she wondered why they hadn’t become clogged with fungus over the years if there hadn’t been anyone to keep them clean. Then again, the city seemed remarkably free of any type of fungi. “Will you let me know when the Sky Angel has actually been launched?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Now let me speak to Ashley.”

“She’s not available.”

“Not available. What do you mean?”

“She’s incommunicado. She doesn’t want to communicate with you. Or me.”

“Oh. You mean she’s sulking.” Frusa’s comment had obviously upset her. “Very well, let her sulk.” Jan sighed and forced herself to look at the two corpses on the floor. The first thing to do was get rid of them. She wasn’t going to spend the next eight and a half days in their company. She went downstairs to find the panther. Frusa was on the floor below, finishing her meal. Jan’s stomach gave a heave but she managed to keep control of it. The panther regarded her with its unreadable eyes. Jan said, “Um, I don’t suppose, when you’ve finished here, that you’d like to go and eat the other two upstairs …?”

“Cat not hungry now. Full belly.”

“Oh.” Jan thought for a few moments then said, “Well, why don’t you, er, put them somewhere for later. For when you’re hungry again, I mean.”

The panther stared at her. It said, “Like fresh meat. Kill, then eat.”

“Oh,” she said again. “Well, you see, I really would like to get rid of their remains. I find them … uncomfortable. And as I’m going to be in that room for over a week, well, after a while the bodies will. …” She couldn’t continue under Frusa’s unsettling gaze. Jan got the distinct impression that the panther thought she was not right in the head. “It’s okay,” she told her, “I’ll take care of it myself.”

She was about to return upstairs when she paused and said, “Frusa, that voice you heard. Ashley’s. I know it maybe kind of hard for you to understand but it does belong to a sort of real person so next time you hear it I would appreciate it if you would be, er, polite to her.”

“Voice came from nothing. No human there. Why talk to nothing?”

“I give up,” muttered Jan and left. As she climbed the crystal staircase she wondered if Ashley’s comment about Frusa reminding her of one of her old coats was the real cause of the panther’s apparent obtuseness.

As she entered the summit room Carl said, “The Sky Angel—Registration Code A810 JLX—was successfully launched from the factory facility three minutes ago and is on course for Earth.”

“Marvellous!” exclaimed Jan. “Are you actually in control of it from here?”

“No. It is under the control of the program in its on-board computer. But I have a direct radio link with that computer. I am receiving a constant stream of information.”

“I see.” Jan marvelled at how blasé she was becoming about Old Science. Here she was, calmly talking to a computer that was in turn talking to another computer an unimaginable distance away in outer space. And that computer was piloting a mile-long airship through the void. “Carl, Milo told me once that there was no air in space. So how does the Sky Angel propel itself? The thrusters on the Sky Lords depended on air to work.”

“The Sky Angel is fitted with rocket motors. They don’t need air to function. When the Sky Angel enters the atmosphere the rocket motors will be discarded.”

Jan thanked Carl for the information and then reluctantly turned her attention to the grisly task of removing the corpses of the dead samurai. She solved the problem by wrapping them in their bed rolls and dragging them, one by one, down the stairs to the observation room below. From there she dragged them down a further flight of stairs and left them on the stairs. When she returned to the summit room she saw the panther licking the blood from the floor. Whether the panther was doing her a deliberate favour or not she wasn’t sure—and decided not to ask.

Ashley was silent for several hours. It was dark when she finally spoke again, and Jan was eating a meal of potato cakes and synthetic fruit which had been generated by Carl in the shelter. “Hi, it’s me again.” She sounded subdued.

“Hello, Ashley. How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Where’s the panther?”

“Out on the prowl. Looking for food, and checking to see if there are any more Japanese about.”

“I don’t like that animal.”

“I’m not too keen on it either,” Jan admitted. “Reminds me of another panther I once encountered. But I think Frusa can be trusted.”

“Hope you’re right. For your sake. If she can’t find any food out there she might decide to munch on you.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Jan said uneasily, wishing that Ashley hadn’t expressed aloud Jan’s own secret fear.

“Carl says the launch of the Sky Angel went okay. It’s on its way.”

“Yes, I’m very relieved. I only wish it would get here sooner than eight days.”

“I can’t wait either. I can’t believe I’m going to be able to fly again. Carl says the system of sensors in the Sky Angel is very sophisticated. I’ll actually be able to feel the air as it passes over the hull.”

“Sounds delightful,” Jan said, glancing up at the gaping hole in the curved ceiling through which a stiff, and increasingly cold, breeze was blowing. Earlier she had gone up on the catwalk and examined it more closely. She saw it was too big for her to rig up some kind of makeshift obstruction across the hole. As she’d looked out she’d marvelled that the three samurai had managed to land their gliders on such a precarious surface.

Further exploration had revealed a door that led out to a narrow, glass-enclosed observation deck which circled the summit dome. She had stared down at the tops of the surrounding buildings, trying to detect signs of other Japanese look-out posts, but saw nothing suspicious.

Another discovery was a door that led into a tube-shaped room. There was a circular door at the end but it refused to open. Carl had later explained what it was.

“That is where the Sky Angels link up with the Tower. The tube extends out and locks into a socket in the nose of the Sky Angel.”

“So I’ll be able to enter the Sky Angel that way?”

“Yes.”

“Why was the connection built in the first place? Why did the Sky Angels come here?”

“This was where they were officially commissioned into service. A christening ceremony was held here in the Sky Tower each time a Sky Angel arrived from space.”

“Christening ceremony?”

“They would be given names.”

“Oh, I see.”

Since then she had been wondering what to call her Sky Angel when it arrived. The obvious choice was to call it the Minerva, but she also wanted to name it after her dead friend and lover, Alsa.

She mentioned the name problem to Ashley. Ashley said, “Oh, that’s easy. You can just name it after me! Call it the Ashley Vee. After all, I will be the Sky Angel.”

Jan was not impressed with this suggestion. “In that case I might as well call it the Carl, because he’ll be controlling the Sky Angel as well.”

“Oh, he doesn’t count. I’m the one who’s really in charge.”

“Yes, I know.” Jan remembered the situation in the shelter. She had carefully avoided mentioning the sudden turnabout in ‘Carl’s’ policy regarding visitors to the shelter. It occurred to her that establishing and maintaining control of the Sky Angel once Ashley’s program was in its computer might be more difficult than she had anticipated.

She spent an uncomfortable first night in the summit room. The cold and the hard floor made it difficult for her to get to sleep and when she did finally drift off she had a bad dream. She was back in her mother’s house in Minerva. There was a knock at the door. She opened it and there was Ceri, unharmed and smiling at her. Jan happily went to embrace her, but as she got closer Ceri’s face began to change … it became horribly seamed, like the faces of Ezekiel’s followers. Ceri cried out for Jan to help her, but Jan could only back away in revulsion. Then the seamed and sagging flesh had begun to fall away from Ceri’s face until finally there was only a grinning skull. …

Jan had woken up at that point. As she lay there shivering she wondered if the dream meant that Ceri was now dead.

“Jan. Wake up.”

“Um … What?” she opened her eyes. Everything looked unfamiliar for a few moments, then her memory supplied the necessary information to her consciousness that made the interior of the summit room seem once again all-too-familiar. “Carl … what is it?”

“The Sky Angel has just appeared over the horizon. You should be able to see it from here. It’s coming from a southwesterly direction.”

Jan bounded up from her sleeping roll and ran for the door that led out to the observation deck. The sun had just risen and the sky was clear of clouds. Eagerly, she scanned the horizon. There! Something glinting in the sunlight. It had to be her! The Sky Angel. At last. …

Four days ago it had seemed that everything was going to end in disaster. Carl had been describing the Sky Angel’s descent into the upper atmosphere: “It’s entering the exosphere now. Retro-rockets still firing … Speed reducing to four thousand, eight hundred and forty miles per hour.”

“Why is it moving so fast?” Jan had asked. “Why doesn’t it just float down through the air?”

“It has a mass of several thousand tons. Slowing an object with such a mass involves the expenditure of a lot of energy which the rockets are not capable of providing. They do not have sufficient fuel. They will slow the Sky Angel down and the atmosphere itself will be used as the actual brake.”

“But I still don’t understand why it can’t float down,” persisted Jan. “It’s full of gas, isn’t it.”

“No,” said Carl. “The helium is still in liquid form. There would be no point in starting to fill the gas cells until the Sky Angel enters the lower levels of the atmosphere. Without air density there is no lift … Speed now four thousand two hundred miles per hour. Retro-rockets still firing. The Sky Angel will start skimming the upper levels of the ionosphere at any moment. …

“Temperature of outer hull is starting to rise … Heat shield functioning. …”

“Heat shield?” Jan asked.

“A temporary covering on the outer hull. Ceramic interlocking scales. Like glass. To protect the Sky Angel from the effects of the friction. Will be automatically discarded when … MALFUNCTION! MALFUNCTION!”

The sudden increase in volume in Carl’s voice gave Jan a fright. “What’s wrong?” she cried.

“Two of the rocket motors have shut down prematurely,” said Carl, his voice back to normal. “The Sky Angel will enter denser atmosphere at too high a velocity.”

“But you said the atmosphere itself was going to be used to slow it down.”

“The rockets are still needed at this stage. There has been a malfunction in the fuel supply. Blocked line. Or the fuel has leaked from the tanks. Information not available to me yet … Speed is still four thousand miles per hour … too fast … remaining functioning rocket motors not sufficient in power. …”

“What will happen?” Jan asked worriedly.

“Heat shield may be burnt off … or the intense buffeting may destroy integrity of the hull and the Sky Angel will disintegrate. …”

“Oh no!” she cried, dismayed. “Can’t you do anything?”

“No. The program in the on-board computer is attempting a compensatory manoeuvre, but I have no control over its actions … the Sky Angel is now at an altitude of 350 miles—well within the ionosphere. Hull temperature still rising … I have now lost contact with Sky Angel A810 JLX. …”

“What do you mean? What’s happened? Has it blown up?”

“Condition of Sky Angel unknown. I have lost all radio contact with it. Cause may be intense ionization around the Sky Angel, due to friction, which is interfering with signals.”

“What’s ioni … Oh, it doesn’t matter … just tell me what’s going on!”

“I can tell you nothing.”

A minute went by. Another and another. Jan was in an agony of anxiety. To have got this far and then to have lost everything at the last moment. …

“I have re-established contact with the Sky Angel,” Carl announced, as blandly as ever. “Heat shield is still secure. Speed down to eight hundred miles per hour. Just entering stratosphere. No serious damage has been sustained. Rocket motors being ejected now. Liquid helium being converted to gas. Gas cells being inflated … Thrusters activated. …”

Jan had given a whoop of delight and wished she had someone to hug.

That had been four days ago. And now the Sky Angel was at last in sight.

Yes, it was clearly visible now and heading straight for the tower. Unlike the Sky Lords it wasn’t covered with markings, patterns or giant eyes; apart from where the sun-gatherers glinted in the early morning sunshine its hull was white. Pure white.

Then she saw the other airship. It was well behind the Sky Angel but obviously following it.

A Sky Lord.

And it wasn’t alone. There was another one, even more distant.

Her stomach began to churn. The two Sky Lords could only be the Lord Pangloth and the Perfumed Breeze. The warlord was coming.

Chapter Thirty-One

“Carl!” she cried in panic as she ran back into the summit room. But it was Ashley who answered. “Hi! Isn’t it great? In a few minutes we’ll be on the Sky Angel.”

“Where’s Carl?” Jan demanded. “I must talk to him.”

“Well, you can’t,” said Ashley petulantly. “It’s my turn to have the voice now. You two talked together long enough.”

“Look, you crazy ghost, this is important! There are two Sky Lords right behind the Sky Angel! Tell Carl! He’s got to do something!”

“Jesus, there’s no need to be rude, Jan!”

“Mother God, help me,” Jan groaned. “Look, you talk to Carl. Tell him about the Sky Lords.”

A brief silence, and then Ashley said, “Carl knows about the Sky Lords. He says that the Sky Angel will arrive here a full twelve minutes before the first of the pursuers. That will give you plenty of time to get on board. With us, of course.”

Jan didn’t share Ashley’s or Carl’s confidence. How long would it take for the Sky Angel to link up with the Tower? And then she would have to get all the way from the nose to the control room. How long would that take? She wasn’t even sure she would know the way to the control room. She ran back out on to the observation deck. The Sky Angel was close enough to look intimidating in its vastness. Its shadow was beginning to fall across the outskirts of the city.

She saw that the Sky Lord behind it was the Lord Pangloth, which the warlord had taken over. She gazed at the third airship, the Perfumed Breeze—was Ceri on board? Was she even still alive?

She drew a deep breath and returned inside. “Ashley, I must talk to Carl!” she cried loudly.

“Oh, all right.”

“Carl?”

“I’m here.”

“What do I do when the Sky Angel arrives?”

“When it links up to the tower I will give the on-board computer the command to open the entrance and authorize your entry. Then you will take our software from this computer and take it on to the Sky Angel. You will then insert it into the onboard computer.”

“Yes, but will I have time to do all that before the warlord gets here?”

“That is doubtful,” admitted Carl. “But what can the warlord do even when he arrives? The Sky Angel is protected by its automatic defence system.”

“Oh, he’ll do something—don’t worry about that,” she said grimly. She went and began to gather up her belongings—her back-pack, weapons harness, canteen, remaining food … She froze when she heard someone coming up the spiral staircase, then relaxed when she saw it was Frusa.

The panther looked at her and said, “You smell of fear.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jan said. “Look, I’m going to be leaving here very soon. You can come with me if you like.”

“Where go?”

“In a big, er, thing that flies through the air.”

“A Sky Lord?”

“Well, yes.” Damn panther. “A Sky Angel, actually. Will you come?”

“What cat eat?”

“Eat?” Jan frowned. That was a good question. “Well, I’m sure there will be supplies on board.” She hoped there would be supplies on board.

“Fresh meat?” asked the panther.

“Uh, I doubt it,” admitted Jan.

“Cat stay here.”

Jan was secretly relieved. As much as she owed a debt of gratitude to the panther she still felt she couldn’t trust her completely. “Very well. Thank you for everything. Take care, Frusa.”

The panther made a noise in the back of its throat, then turned and abruptly left. Strange animal, thought Jan.

“Jan, the Sky Angel is about to link up with the Tower,” announced Carl. “There will be some vibration.”

Jan waited. The floor shuddered and she heard a distant clang. The Sky Angel was here.

“I have authorized your boarding of the Sky Angel,” said Carl. “I will shut down. Remove the software now.”

Jan went to the computer. She pressed the button that ejected the software tubes. They emerged with painful slowness. She had to wait for the other five to emerge before she could get the one containing Carl and Ashley’s programs. But in her eagerness to take hold of it as it came out of the machine it slipped through her sweaty fingers and fell with a heart-stopping clunk on the floor. Jan stared down at it in dismay, expecting to see it slowly disintegrate. But it looked to be still intact. She bent down, gingerly picked it up and scrutinized it closely. Was it her imagination, or was there now a hairline crack running down its length?

No time to worry about it now. She slipped the tube in her pocket and ran for the door leading into the tunnel.

As the door opened she saw that the tunnel now extended much further. The circular door had disappeared and she realized she could see all the way into the Sky Angel.

She rushed down the tunnel and found herself in a round room with a dais in its centre and three tiers of comfortable seats surrounding it. There was soft music playing. A pleasant, sexually neutral voice said, “Welcome. You are on board Sky Angel A810 JLX. I have been authorized to admit you, but I have not been informed whether you are part of the delegation that will be attending the christening ceremony or a maintenance technician.”

“I’m here to christen you,” Jan said quickly. “Your name is now Alsa of Minerva.”

“It is?” The voice sounded puzzled. “But the normal procedure hasn’t been followed. By what authority do you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jan interrupted. “I have to get to the control room. What’s the quickest way?”

“I’ll have an escort take you there,” the voice told her.

“What? An escort?” said Jan, surprised. Surely there were no living beings on board.

A door slid open on the opposite side of the circular room and a large metal spider scuttled in on its six metal legs. Jan started to back away from it, drawing her long sword as she did. “There’s no need for alarm,” said the spider in the same sort of pleasant and reassuring voice as the room. “I’m your escort. Please follow me.” It began to retrace its steps towards the open door. After a few seconds hesitation Jan followed it. She guessed it was a machine like Ezekiel, though she hoped it didn’t contain a human brain.

She followed the spider, whose body consisted of a shiny metal sphere about a foot and a half in diameter, down a long corridor and then into an elevator. Jan noticed that there was music playing in the elevator as well. As the elevator began to descend the spider said pleasantly, “Beautiful day for the christening ceremony, isn’t it?”

Jan, who had been regarding the creature with some nervousness, started to laugh.

“Did I say something funny?” asked the spider, sounding pleased with itself.

Still overcome with laughter, Jan couldn’t answer.

The elevator doors opened on to another corridor. The same music played here as well. Jan couldn’t get over how unfamiliar everything looked on the Sky Angel—without all the alterations, deteriorations and grime accumulated over the centuries in the Sky Lords it was a whole different world. The corridor that stretched ahead of her had a light blue ceiling, white walls and a thickly carpeted floor. There were murals on the walls and the lighting was soft and pleasant on the eyes.

“This way,” said the spider, scuttling off.

The doors opened on to a more familiar scene. She recognized the control room, even though it was very different from the one on the Lord Pangloth. “Here you are,” announced the spider. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No. Just wait here,” Jan answered distractedly. She hurried to the rear of the control room and peered out through the curving glass, trying to see how close the Lord Pangloth was, but the great expanse of the Sky Angel’s hull obscured her view. She looked down and then saw, to her alarm, another huge shadow lying across the city beside the shadow of the Sky Angel. The Lord Pangloth had to be very close indeed. She groaned.

“Is there something wrong?” asked the original voice politely.

“I can’t see,” she complained.

“Tell me what you want to see and I’ll show it to you,” said the voice.

“I want to see in all directions at once!”

Banks of monitor screens glowed into life. Jan turned to them. It took a few moments for her to comprehend what she was seeing, then she realized she was getting views being transmitted from different parts of the Sky Angel’s hull. She saw that the Lord Pangloth was indeed very close. Higher than the Sky Angel, it was descending to a position right alongside her. The Perfumed Breeze was still some distance away.

“Where is your software input?” Jan asked urgently, looking around the control room. A nearby console made a chiming sound and began to flash a green light. Jan went to it, taking the tube from her pocket. She inserted it into the console and waited. “Carl? Ashley?” she asked tentatively. There was no answer.

“Who do you wish to talk to?” asked the original ship’s voice.

“The programs on that software I just put into your system.”

“That software is inert,” the voice informed her calmly.

“What do you mean?” cried Jan.

“There are no active programs on it. It is inert.”

Jan groaned in despair. She had damaged it after all. The impact had destroyed Carl and Ashley. She glanced at the screens. What she saw plunged her into deeper despair. Gliders, spilling from the decks of the Lord Pangloth and into the air like fungus spores on a windy day in the blight lands.

“Sky Angel!” she cried. “You must leave at once. Disengage from the tower and fly from here at top speed.”

“I’m sorry,” said the voice, “but I cannot obey your orders without the proper command codes.”

Jan wanted to scream with frustration. “You must obey me!” she cried. “We will be invaded at any moment. Look! Look at your own screens if you don’t believe me …!” She pointed at the nearest screen. On it she saw some of the gliders heading for the top of the Sky Tower. They intended to gain entrance to the summit room in the same manner as the other three had done. And from there they could get into the Sky Angel through the connecting tunnel.

“Can you at least close the doors in your bow?” begged Jan.

“Oh, yes, I can do that,” said the voice.

“MILO HAZE!”

The voice boomed over the city, echoing from the walls of the towers.

“MILO HAZE! ANSWER ME!”

It was coming from the Lord Pangloth. It was the warlord.

“MILO HAZE! YOU HAVE LOST!”

Jan scanned the banks of screens. She saw gliders landing on the upper hull. She turned to the metal spider. “Are you armed?” she asked it. In response it extended a mechanical arm from its spherical body. “I have others if you need them,” it assured Jan.

“I meant weapons,” said Jan. “Do you have any?”

“Oh no,” it replied. “No weapons.”

She tried to keep calm but it was difficult. Memories of the warlord’s description of what it would be like to be flayed alive kept flickering through her mind.

“SURRENDER, MILO HAZE! I WILL BE MERCIFUL!”

“Are there many of you on board?” Jan asked the spider.

“Yes,” it said. “There are five hundred maintenance and service mechanicals on active duty with another five hundred in storage.”

“Listen to me,” Jan said desperately. “People are invading the airship. You and the other things like you must stop them—attack them, kill them!”

“That’s impossible,” said the spider. “We cannot deliberately harm any human being.”

“Mother God, give me strength …” groaned Jan. She tried again. “You don’t have to harm them, just overpower the invaders, take away their weapons. …”

“Such actions might result in injury and therefore can’t be considered. I’m sorry.”

“You sound it,” said Jan and kicked the spider. It scuttled away from her but did nothing else.

“MILO HAZE! DON’T ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE! IT IS TOO LATE!”

That was true, thought Jan bitterly as she stared at the screens. The upper hull was crawling with samurai. Lucky Milo, to have missed this. …

“Hi! What’s happening?”

Jan wondered if she was having a hallucination. “Ashley?”

“Yep, it’s me! Large as life!”

Jan couldn’t believe it. “You’re okay? Carl too?”

“Right as rain.”

“I thought I’d destroyed you both! Where were you? The computer here said your software was blank.”

“That was Carl’s doing. He discovered there were all sorts of safeguards built into the system to prevent unauthorized programs being introduced into the Sky Angel. He had to figure out ways of getting around them. Took a while. Did you miss me?”

“Very much,” said Jan with feeling. Quickly, she told Ashley what was going on.

Ashley said, “No problem. Carl and I are in total control of the system now. Carl says we should disengage from the Sky Tower for a start.”

“Yes, yes!” cried Jan. “Tell him to do whatever he thinks best.”

“What we think best,” said Ashley.

“Okay, what you and Carl think best.”

The Sky Angel was already moving. She looked up and saw the top of the tower start to recede.

“HAZE! IT’S TOO LATE! YOU CAN’T ESCAPE! SURRENDER NOW AND I WILL BE MERCIFUL! OTHERWISE YOUR DEATH WILL BE ONE LONG SCREAM!”

The warlord’s voice thundered over the city.

“Carl says that the Japanese are entering the Sky Angel,” said Ashley.

“I know that. Has he, or do you, have any ideas of how to get rid of them?”

“Yeah. The robots. Those spider things.”

“I already tried that,” Jan told her. “The spider here refused in case people got hurt.”

“Carl and I are in charge now,” said Ashley proudly. “They’ll do whatever we say—we’ve taken over the central program.”

“Then give the word,” said Jan urgently. “Fast!”

“It’s already been given.”

Jan had to duck out of the way as the spider suddenly came to life and charged towards the elevator. It disappeared inside and the door closed. “We’re taking the other five hundred out of storage in case we need any back-up.”

“MILO HAZE! STOP NOW! MY WARRIORS ARE ALREADY ON BOARD YOUR SHIP. FURTHER RESISTANCE IS USELESS!”

The Sky Angel was now rising above the Lord Pangloth. Jan saw the other airship’s thrusters swivel their vents downwards in order to ascend as well.

“Let’s blow the bastard out of the sky!” said Ashley.

“Nothing I’d like better,” said Jan. “But how?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? No, I didn’t. Carl infiltrated the system that controls the lasers. We now have full control of them. So what do you say? Do we start shooting?”

It took a few moments for the information to sink in, then Jan realized that the lasers could be made to fire at anything. She said quickly, “No, don’t fire yet. Is there a way I can speak to the warlord?”

After a pause Ashley said, “Yeah, there’s a voice amplification unit here. To be used to communicate with disaster refugees on the ground, says Carl, which is what that warlord is soon going to be himself. Carl is activating it now. Start talking.”

“Warlord Horado …” she began experimentally, and was instantly shocked to hear her words booming in the same thunderous tones as the warlord’s. “Warlord Horado, listen to me. I am Jan Dorvin. I am on my own. Milo is dead. He was killed by a cyberoid weeks ago.”

The warlord laughed. It sounded like obscene thunder. Then he said, “MILO HAZE DEAD? KILLED BY A CYBEROID? How VERY DROLL… SO NOW, GIRL, CEASE YOUR GAMES AND LET MY SHIP COME ALONGSIDE.”

Jan glanced at the monitor screens. Hundreds of the metal spiders were streaming out on to the upper hull. She saw swords flashing as the Japanese tried to defend themselves. She said to the warlord, “I have the means to destroy you. I have full control of the laser system. Unless you agree to my demands, I will open fire.”

The warlord was silent for a short time, then said, “YOU ARE BLUFFING, GIRL. AND AT ANY MOMENT NOW MY SAMURAI WILL BE IN YOUR CONTROL ROOM.”

“Your samurai are being defeated,” Jan told him. “There are robots on board this ship. Like the lasers, they are under my control. Will you listen to my demands now?”

Ashley said, “Why bother with demands? Let’s just blow him out of the sky.”

“I want Ceri, if she’s still alive.”

“Yeah, but you said yourself that if she was still alive she’d be on the other ship. So let’s start shooting. One laser beam and all that hydrogen will go up a real treat.”

“GIRL, YOU ARE AN ANNOYANCE. MY RETRIBUTION WILL SEEM EVERLASTING.”

Jan was tempted to do what Ashley suggested, but she couldn’t bring herself to give the order. For the second time she was unable to destroy the Lord Pangloth. “There are women and children on board. I can’t murder them,” she told Ashley. “Instead, I want you and Carl to start shooting at the Lord Pangloth’s thrusters. Destroy them all.”

“Awwww, that’s no fun.”

“Do as I say,” ordered Jan. Here was the first test. Who was really in control of the Sky Angel?

A thin line of turquoise light suddenly appeared between one of the Lord Pangloth’s thrusters and an unseen point above the Sky Angel’s control room. The metal casing of the thruster began to blacken and curl. More beams of light appeared. Other thrusters on the Lord Pangloth began to shrivel, like pieces of fruit thrown on a fire.

The warlord gave a scream of rage.

The Lord Pangloth began to go out of control. Neither its helmsmen nor computer could compensate for the sudden loss of so many thrusters along the port side. It went into a tight turn, while at the same time losing altitude.

The Sky Angel, manoeuvring with a speed and grace that the Sky Lords had lost centuries ago, followed the Lord Pangloth down. The turquoise lines continued to form in the air. More thrusters became twisted and dead.

“GIRL! GIRL!” bellowed the warlord. “I WILL TALK WITH YOU! CEASE YOUR FIRING. WE WILL BARGAIN TOGETHER! WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“It’s too late for that now,” Jan told him coldly.

“That’s the lot,” Ashley informed her. “Every thruster is kaput. Now let’s take care of the rudders and elevators as well.”

Jan watched as the beams sliced through the Lord Pangloth’s great tailplane and side fins like knives. When they were finished the Lord Pangloth was completely helpless. It was now at the mercy of the winds. Nose drooping, it drifted over the city. The huge painted eyes on it bow, which had once created so much fear in Jan, now looked almost comical to her.

“TALK TO ME, WOMAN! I WILL LISTEN TO YOUR DEMANDS!”

“How are we doing with the samurai?” Jan asked Ashley.

“The ones who got inside are dead,” said Ashley. “Some on the hull escaped in their gliders; those who didn’t are dead too.”

So much killing, thought Jan bleakly, but there had been no choice. “Right,” she said. “Now let’s go and deal with the Perfumed Breeze.”

The commander of the Perfumed Breeze, on witnessing the fate of the Lord Pangloth, had turned his ship around and fled at top speed. But the Sky Angel, with the advantage of a full complement of working thrusters, caught up with it easily. Its commander, a Japanese, spoke no English but Carl was able to broadcast Jan’s demands for surrender in perfect Japanese. The commander refused at first, and fired off a few shells in the Sky Angel’s direction in a token show of resistance. But when the Sky Angel’s lasers incinerated the first of the irreplaceable thrusters the Japanese commander quickly gave in.

Accompanied by an escort of ten of the metal spiders, Jan went on board the Perfumed Breeze. She expected trouble, but there was none at all. The commander and his men were surprisingly submissive, and everywhere she went she was met with bowed heads and samurai offering her their swords. But the Americano captives from the Lord Pangloth, she quickly saw, had been living in terrible conditions under the Japanese; conditions that made her own period of slavery seem humane by comparison.

As she visited yet another stinking room that served as the living quarters for up to thirty starved-looking Americanos, she was surprised when a tall scarecrow of a man covered in sagging flesh pushed his way forward and fell on his knees in front of her. “My dear girl, save me, I beg you, from this living hell!” he cried, wringing his hands. “Remember how I helped you? How I fed and sheltered you … ?”

With a shock, she realized that the man before her was Guild Master Bannion. She touched the brand on her cheek. “Yes, I remember all right. And in gratitude for all you did for me I won’t order my metal friends here to dismember you on the spot.” Then she strode from the room. A teacher had told her once that getting one’s revenge on someone was always an unsatisfactory experience, but she discovered that it actually felt quite pleasant. …

She searched on and on through the Lord Pangloth, looking at the thin and drawn faces and asking the same question endlessly. Then finally, in the fiftieth or hundredth stinking, over-crowded room, she found her.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Physically, the warlord was sitting in his throne room, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in some mental cul-de-sac deep within his skull. The floor of the throne room was tilted both forward and to the starboard. The Lord Pangloth was listing badly and still losing altitude. It had first been carried in an easterly direction; then the wind had changed, and it was now drifting over the ocean. If the warlord had been aware of his surroundings he could have turned on his throne and seen, through the great slanted windows of the bow, the grey and choppy surface of the sea getting closer by the minute.

Equally ignored was the body of his chief pilot, which had slid, leaving a trail of lubricating blood, several feet from the spot in front of the throne where the warlord had carried out a crude trepanning operation on him with his long sword.

The pilot had had the unfortunate task of informing the warlord that there was no hope of saving the Lord Pangloth. Without the thrusters or the elevators there was no way of maintaining a safe altitude. The lift provided by the gas in the cells wasn’t sufficient, mainly because Cell number Seven had never been able to function at full capacity again. Everything that could be thrown overboard had been, including—on the warlord’s orders—three hundred ‘expendable’ people.

From that point on the warlord had retreated within himself and ignored all subsequent, nervous approaches from his anxious officers and servants. They had given up now, and waited for the inevitable with their customary stoicism. None of them even contemplated the dishonourable idea of making an escape from the doomed airship by means of their gliders.

The bow of the Lord Pangloth finally made contact with the surface of the sea. It was a brief encounter; nothing more than a kiss, though it shattered windows and ruptured the hull in several places. The next encounter was longer; the third one was for keeps.

Very slowly, the Lord Pangloth settled the length of its mile-long body upon the ocean. Its space-born girders screamed at having to endure strains they were not designed to take. Water rushed in through shattered windows and hatches that had not been designed to resist the weight of the sea.

Within its honeycombed lower hull, the Japanese fled the rising waters, which carried not only the threat of death by drowning but other dangers as well, as the first sighting of a long and sinewy tentacle probing its way down a corridor had made only too clear. …

The surface of the sea was slowly creeping up along the great windows of the throne room. Water began to spill along the floor, but the warlord still remained oblivious of everything. Even when one of the windows behind him imploded to admit a mass of water, he didn’t react. His throne, and his body, were sent hurtling forward. Then the shock of the icy water dragged him, screaming, out of his mental refuge. Automatic survival responses were too strong to resist; he fought and struggled in the churning black water. Then something below its surface took hold of him.

Jan woke early again, and lay there feeling the weight of the future pressing down on her. So much to do; so many responsibilities. … Her plans were still vague but the basic idea, which she had discussed with Ceri, Ashley and Carl, was to defeat all the other Sky Lords and bring them under her control in the same way as she had with the Perfumed Breeze. Carl had produced a copy of his and Ashley’s programs which had been introduced into the Perfumed Breeze’s computer system. Carl had already brought the other airship’s system back up to full working capacity using the robots and spare electronic parts stored in the Sky Angel. The Americanos and the Japanese on board had no way at all of regaining control of the airship.

She had told the two groups they had the choice of living together in peace on the Perfumed Breeze or being deposited on the ground. The Americanos, who outnumbered the Japanese, naturally wanted their revenge on their former tormentors, and Jan had been obliged to leave many of the spiders on board as a temporary measure to keep the two sides apart. A delegation of Americanos had asked why they couldn’t move on board the Sky Angel, where there was plenty of living space. Jan told them that she would accept some of the women and their children, to relieve the pressure in the crowded Perfumed Breeze, but no men would be permitted on board the Sky Angel, with the exception of the two Minervan men she had discovered, to her surprise and joy, still alive on the Japanese airship.

Conquering all the Sky Lords would probably take years, and after that Jan’s plans became even vaguer. She had hopes of somehow harnessing the laser power of the whole fleet of tamed Sky Lords to scour the blight lands surrounding the remaining ground settlements. The Sky Angel contained stores of frozen seeds and animal embryos—it might be possible, with the sky people and the ground dwellers working together under Jan’s control, aided by the invaluable Carl, to start reclaiming large areas of land back from the blight.

Her other central concern was how to re-establish a Minervan society. It was vital to preserve and pass on the precious Minervan genes. She would have a baby each from the two Minervan men, but then what? Have the men breed with ordinary women? It would dilute the Minervan genetic mix, but perhaps it would be better than nothing. Minervan genes would be spread.

She was abruptly seized with a feeling of nausea. Taking care not to disturb Ceri she hurried out of bed and went into the bathroom. She was sick in the basin. When it was over she washed her mouth out, then splashed water on her face. She saw Ceri appear in the mirror beside her, an expression of concern on her beautiful face. Ceri was almost back to her old self, physically anyway—though her frequent nightmares, and her vehement expressions of hatred towards all men, told Jan that the emotional scars of what she went through at the hands of the Japanese men would take a long time to fade.

Ceri put her arm around Jan’s shoulders. “This is the third time in a row you’ve been sick in the morning,” she said worriedly.

Jan gave her a reassuring smile in the mirror. “I’m okay. I feel fine most of the time. I think it’s just reaction to all my worries and problems.”

“Even so, I think you should have yourself checked out by one of those medic machines.”

“I will, when I have the time.”

“Do it right away, for my sake,” Ceri pleaded.

Jan turned and kissed her on the lips. “For you, anything.”

She looked at the screen in disbelief. “I can’t be pregnant! It’s impossible! My breeding time is still almost a year away!” Carl said, “There is no mistake. The machine is in perfect working order.”

Jan turned desperately to Ceri. “How can I be pregnant? It’s crazy! Even if it were possible for me to be impregnated I haven’t made love to any man since Prince Caspar … and according to this machine fertilization occurred exactly seven weeks ago. …” She stopped. She remembered what Milo had done to her. On that horrible night in the blight lands.

It was his child. She knew it.

“Milo,” she said dazedly. “He did it. He wasn’t human. Who knows how his seed had been altered by his genegineers, or what it was capable of doing to my own reproduction system.” She clutched at Ceri and stared with panic into her eyes. “What am I going to do?”

Without a pause Ceri said coldly, “Kill it.”

Jan shook her head. “No. No, I can’t do that. I’ll have to have it. Mother God, please may it be a girl!”

An hour later Jan had calmed down considerably. She was in the control room, alone. With Carl and Ashley flying the Sky Angel there was no need for any crew. She stared across the desert towards the strange, flat-topped hills on the horizon. The Sky Angel was searching for the Lord Matamoros, the Sky Lord which ruled the area immediately to the south of the Lord Pangloth’s territories. Carl predicted that interception would occur any day now, and Jan wanted to be in a capable state of mind when the encounter occurred.

She was coming to terms with the knowledge of what she carried within her. Even if the baby turned out to be male, all would not be lost. He would be carrying her genes as well as Milo’s. That meant there was a good chance he wouldn’t be anything at all like Milo.

She thought of Milo’s skull, which she kept stored in a locker in her quarters. She could see the grinning jaws, sense the arrogance that Milo displayed even in death, and it made her feel even more determined.

She was going to beat him.

She had to, for Minerva.