Текст книги "And All the Stars "

Автор книги: Andrea Höst

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"Is right..." The man lying on the floor beside Madeleine groaned, then tried to lever himself too quickly upright. "Can't delay–!"

"We'll prepare a time-delayed post after we have the leech Blues," Fisher said shortly. "Failure insurance. But we can't go public yet. Not everything's in place."

He too was thinking in terms of dominos. Of course he would, following the memory of Théoden's plans, and that idea started to bring too much to the surface, so Madeleine turned to help the newly freed Blue to his feet. He wobbled unsteadily, told her to call him Kiwi Joe, then gathered her up in a huge hug. Since he was a big, solidly built man, this was more than a little overwhelming, but then he, like Sarah, took himself in hand, producing the keys to the makeshift prisons, asking Fisher questions about what next.

They shared out keys, unlocked the screens, and then Madeleine jumped back with a stifled squeak as Nash cannoned out of the room she'd opened, a broken chair leg swung like a sword, missing her head only because he pulled up at the last moment.

"Not possessed!" she said hastily, but he'd already worked that out, probably because Moths weren't given to squeaking.

"The others–?" he asked.

"Soon," Madeleine said, but suddenly Nash wasn't looking at her, was staring past her down the hall, the tense determination vanishing from his face, replaced by stunned disbelief.

"Leina?"

Madeleine had known, had seen him on the monitors, but still that husky, once-familiar voice broke something in her, and she whirled and flung herself into a startled Tyler's arms.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tyler's soothing, barely audible hum took Madeleine back to the summer when she was five, an inconstant moon in Tyler's orbit as he strolled the back pastures of a neighbouring farm. She would dart off to follow a butterfly, examine a flower, bring back a seed pod to offer him. At twelve he had seemed impossibly tall and distant, holding his sun hat against the wind. But when there were nettles, scrapes, bruised knees, he would drop down to her height, open his arms, and hum just as he did now as he gave her a tiny squeeze.

"Are you rescuing me, or am I rescuing you?" he asked, as completely self-possessed as Tyler always managed to be.

"Both?" Madeleine gave a shaky little laugh and made herself let him go. "I think it's supposed to be more we're mustering forces to save the world."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Another of the leech Blues stepped forward, a short, ivory-skinned woman with a bruised face partially hidden by streaming red hair. "We don't have a hope of fighting these things."

"Let's not discuss this in a corridor," Fisher said, and herded them back to the security room, where they could talk while keeping an eye on the monitors – and the Greens who had inched across the floor and were trying to lever themselves in reach of a desk phone. The question of Greens bothered Madeleine immensely, since there wasn't a Moth to remove to make them themselves again.

Ten people and a jellyfish corpse made for an extremely crowded room. Madeleine and Tyler tucked themselves onto a corner of the wrap-around desk, and since Sarah was partially shielding her, Madeleine took the opportunity to let herself look at Fisher, who was giving them all a survey in return, betraying a hint of impatience.

"In a little over four hours, the Core and two others of the Ul-naa Five will return from the Buenos Aires Challenge," he said. "And discover that Blues have been freed and revived, which is the most forbidden act among their people. Freed Blues retain the information they experienced. Not a lifetime's memories, but everything including the Moth's thoughts during the period of possession. This is such a serious thing that the clans will unite with a single purpose: to kill us."

The redhead looked doubtful. "What do you know that's so important?"

"Isn't knowing how to kill Moths, and free and revive Blues enough?" Joe asked.

"After what happened because of Washington? Shit no." The last leech Blue, an Asian teen with an impressive collection of piercings, moved restlessly, limited by the crowded space. "Not that I'm sorry you busted me out, but unless you found a way to stop them dusting any more cities, you got to be ready to kill a lot of people to save a few Blues."

"Are you volunteering to be locked back up?" Fisher leavened the question with a tired hint of smile. "I don't have enough information, yet. What I need to do is free a Blue possessed by one of the Ul-naa Five, gambling that one of the Reborn – one of the Fives – will know of a way for us to bring down the Spire. If there isn't..." He hesitated.

"I will not turn my back on the possibility of ridding ourselves of the Moths," Nash said firmly. "And for the moment, we cannot do a great deal more harm by trying to find out if there is a way. If there is not, then we can discuss the risk of another dust attack, and whether we allow that threat to keep us from fighting. Until then, there are friends I must find."

"Hear hear," Tyler said, his voice soft, but carrying effortlessly. Nash immediately lost his poise, his glance at the cramped corner uncertain.

"But how do we fight?" the redhead asked. "They feed us just enough to stay upright. It's all I can do to stand here so close to you lot, not draining you dry."

Madeleine couldn't see the woman's expression as Nash explained the Rover fight, but her stance shifted enough to be a response in itself.

"All right," the woman said. "I can't say I want to do this. And I can't say that I'll go willingly back to that room, threats of more dust or not. But I'll help to a point."

"Until we know more," the Asian boy conceded.

Fisher simply nodded, already focusing on the next step. "We have just over four hours."

ooOoo

"Your remodelling job on my bathroom was impressive."

The words were only teasing, but Madeleine still shifted in embarrassment and glanced across at the redhead, Claire, who was watching the monitors for progress of the 'collection team' Fisher had led off to free reinforcements.

"I didn't realise you reached the apartment."

"Oh, yes. I'd just found your Mysterious Note when, well, aliens, and my two friends became very curt types who bundled me up and delivered me here. It sounds like you've been having a far more adventurous time."

"I guess. I–"

A great roil of emotion swelled, blocking Madeleine's throat, filling her eyes. Tyler glanced at her, then tucked her against his side.

"The edges become less raw," he said, conversationally. "Big hurts never really go away, but you can contain them, build up scar tissue to stop them cutting so deep. The question for you here, given that it's apparently so important you rest for this fight, is whether it will help you to cry about it now, or put it off till later."

Madeleine leaned her head against Tyler's shoulder and let his warmth seep into her, borrowing the strength to push back breaking down a little longer. She was far from the only person who had lost someone, and the thing to do was focus on freeing Noi, not so much to save the world, but because it was Noi.

"Did you see the painting?"

"It was there?"

"On the wall in your bedroom."

"I didn't get that far. Will I like it?"

"No. But I do."

"And that's what matters?" The door opened as Tyler laughed, that rich, throaty burble, and Pan, leading the way in, stopped dead, a delighted grin consuming his face.

"Maddie, you seriously held out on us," he said, stepping aside as Fisher, Nash, and the fourth leech Blue, Quan, bunched up behind him. "I'd tweak your nose for it, but I'm so damn glad you figured out a way to free us I'll let you off this once."

It was a brave show, and Pan almost succeeded in behaving just as usual, though his eyes gave lie to his smile. Full of sympathy, and awareness of the length of Fisher's possession. Mercifully, he transferred his attention to Tyler, crossing to hold out his hand. "I'm Lee, and I give you fair warning that I am going to fangasm over you at some point when we're not saving the planet."

"I'll look forward to that," Tyler said with perfect gravity, shaking the proffered hand.

"I didn't figure out how to free you," Madeleine began, then caught Fisher's expression. A clear 'later', which she understood and accepted while hating the idea of receiving thanks which belonged to Théoden. "Do we have enough to go get Noi?" she asked instead, glancing at the crowd outside the door and feeling a little better to see Min among them.

Fisher gave her a brief, grateful smile, surely not intended to pierce her heart so thoroughly, and said: "Yes. A quick parcelling out of targets and we'll go up."

A woman called Jannika was left behind as monitor room guard, and the now dozen freed Blues and four leech Blues crammed into the nearest emptied hotel room, to assign each leech Blue a protector, and divide everyone else into attacker or reviver with the recommendation to "adapt as necessary". This piece of advice became the whole of the plan after they split into two groups, and the elevator Madeleine rode up in arrived at its destination floor and opened its doors on two surprised Blues.

Min punched and one of the Blues fell beside a limp possessor, but Moth song rose piercing and urgent from the other. The freed Blues spilled out into the lift foyer, Fisher punching, Pan dropping to his knees to revive the first Blue. The second Moth bloomed, but did not fall. It was the worst moment possible for a Moth to survive separation, filling the air with song, and Madeleine thrust herself forward, raising a shield. Instead of attacking the Moth flitted sideways, and off down the corridor.

"Heading toward our target!" Fisher said, and they raced after it even as answering song rose from surrounding rooms.

The Moth's path lay through the foyer of the second elevator, and it was that which saved the moment. The other group stepped out, and Sarah reacted to a Moth flying directly at her by shield-punching it into the ceiling. Claire, confused but willing – or hungry – reached up and pressed her hands to the single trailing tip in her reach, and the song abruptly died.

"Clear the rooms we've passed?" Pan asked urgently, and at a nod from Fisher reversed direction and headed toward a door just as it opened.

Madeleine scrambled with the rest, using the security master key taken from the monitor room, and ran through the next door only to be blasted by a force punch which knocked her on her behind. The Blues on the far side of the room were the youngest she'd seen, but clearly strong and too far away for her to comfortably spirit punch. Hating the idea of injuring children, she snapped a light force punch in their direction to keep them occupied – blowing out wooden shutters and glass from the windows behind them – and staggered into a run at them.

The taller one – a skinny boy with a blue stripe down his chin – punched her again, but she was expecting it this time and set her feet so she wasn't bounced when her shield absorbed, then spirit punched, both at the same time. A wave of dizziness swept through her, and she fell against the foot of the bed as twin Moths projected back through the gaping windows.

"Leina?" Tyler, following her about according to instructions, lifted her more or less upright.

"Help me over," she said urgently, and fed two still little figures energy despite the dizziness. She stayed kneeling by them because there was no way she could leave without being sure she hadn't just killed two children, even if she could stand up.

She could hear the progress of the fight in neighbouring rooms, flurries of sound, brief outbursts of Moth song. It seemed to spread and spread, and then when Madeleine thought she had to go help no matter how dizzy, it all died away. By then one of the children, a girl around ten, had her eyes open, all her attention on the boy, who was slower to revive. They both looked to be of African descent, might even be brother and sister, and a knot gripped Madeleine's stomach then relaxed as his eyelashes fluttered.

"Always sleeping in," the girl said, and promptly put her head down on his chest and began to cry.

"Where did–?" Pan came through the door at a trot. "Maddie, we're going for Noi straight away – there's too much chance they heard something. You good?"

The dizziness had faded enough that she could stand, so she nodded and followed along, grateful when Tyler slipped a supportive arm through hers. The group of freed Blues had grown in size yet again, and there was a milling confusion of people gathering in the nearer lift foyer.

Sarah, low-voiced, was making brief explanations, but an urgent trill of Moth song interrupted her and it started all over again, but this time the figure they were chasing down was Emily, who wasn't even supposed to be there, and no convenient third group emerged to intercept her as she ran straight for their target suite, song spiralling.

"Go! Go!" Madeleine didn't even recognise the person who shouted, but sprinted, hand-in-hand with Tyler. Someone ahead punched straight through the door closing in their face, and they streamed inside, a frantic mass, but Madeleine checked at a glimpse of a fallen tangle with blonde hair.

Min, panting but bright-eyed, was there before her. "I'll look after her. Get Noi."

No choice, the crowd surging, flooding into a spacious lounge area, so many that Madeleine couldn't be sure which were the possessed Blues. Then Fisher yelled "Balcony!" and she turned to see a familiar figure heading over the railing.

Far too far to spirit punch, but Madeleine did it anyway, a desperate move which sent her ploughing into carpet, feeling like she'd shield-stunned herself except with an absence of sensation which was more frightening. But the punch worked, blue and white blazing out, Noi left hanging like abandoned laundry. The Moth rose, and only Nash was even close, his full speed run turning into a hop, a leap off the top of the railing to grab a trailing edge of white before it could escape. He landed like a gymnast, balanced on the crossbeam, dragging his captive down. Tyler and Quan, following, raced to stretch and press hands to light.

It died quickly, a candle flicker compared to the Rover.

Nash's pose on the railing – and Noi's position hanging over it – were not so perilous at second glance. The balconies were merely sectioned off portions of the roof of the tier below, with a broad expanse of concrete beyond. Still Madeleine desperately tried to lever herself off the carpet because there were only leech Blues near Noi, and the attention of the room had been drawn to the fight with the 'South' of the Five.

But from two lone escapees their numbers had grown exponentially, each freed Blue quick to put to use the skills and knowledge gained during their possession. It was two skinny kids who hopped over the top of Madeleine and ran to the rescue. And Madeleine managed to stay awake long enough to see Noi, precious for many more reasons than perhaps knowing how to bring down the Spire, lift her head.

Another domino.

ooOoo

Madeleine was resting her eyes, with occasional interruptions. The first had been Tyler, prodding her to drink lukewarm soup. Next, a relative hush in a room which had been humming with voices. Then a question.

"Is it possible?"

"Yes."

Not Noi, but the lightly accented voice of the former South, a Malaysian man in his late twenties named Haron. Madeleine opened her eyes to look at him, the focus of a room crowded with forty or so freed Blues.

"It is a faint chance," he went on, apologetically. "When the Spire's shield is down, but it is no longer functioning as a portal – as it will be in the moments immediately after the Core returns – the Spire is vulnerable. A pulse, an application of carefully timed blows of force, will paralyse it, preventing the raising of the shield. If this is followed by a continued attack, there is a chance we could kill it, but more likely it will withdraw."

"Kill it?" That was Nash, startled. "It's alive?"

"The Spires – all the Spires – are a single, living construct. A grander creature than the Hunters and the Aerials, but sharing the same origin."

Only the leech Blues reacted with surprise. Curled in a corner of one of the room's couches, Madeleine considered the faces of the Musketeers among the crowd of freed Blues. Pan, Min, Noi, and Emily, each having looked through a window at an alien world and culture. The knowledge alone would always separate them, and the experience had marked them in other ways. They were all so bruised. Pan tried to disguise it with his usual frenetic energy, but drooped when there was no-one to bounce off. Emily hadn't spoken, not once, while Min's few words had been sharp, full of edges. Noi's eyes were shadowed.

Three days since they had danced barefoot. Every one of them silently wounded.

Madeleine glanced at Fisher, who did not drop his eyes quite quickly enough to hide that he'd been watching her. His face was drawn, the lids drooping with exhaustion, and despite her determination to not deal with her feelings until after the coming battle, she had to check an impulse to wait until he looked again. He continued to take a deliberately businesslike tone to everything, giving her little chance to gain a sense of him, but already there'd been glimpses of a different person to the one she'd known. A hint of impatience, a touch of sarcasm. More often brief glances rather than those calm, unhurried surveys. The connection, the rapport she'd thought she had with Fisher – had it all been Théoden?

Too much noise to think. Forty freed Blues, each with their own opinions, making it impossible to simply issue peremptory commands without explanation. Madeleine closed her eyes on the debate, then opened them to check again on Noi, subdued and contained, holding an icepack to Emily's shoulder. Now that all the Musketeers were free, Madeleine had lost her immediate drive. Incapable of celebrating, unable to mourn.

She shifted so she could see Tyler's profile. Always distant in his own way, yet conjuring a sense of comfort, safety, the certainty of family. He would always be her cousin, no matter what happened. But even with Tyler she could not find any way to explain her confusion, or her need to have Théoden's sacrifice acknowledged, could only tell herself over and over that now was the wrong time. Everyone had their own hurts, their own struggle with the coming battle. She shut her eyes again, trying to listen without feeling.

The crux of the debate was the consequences of failure. If the Spire remained functional, then the united clan response would mean the deaths of most, if not all the freed Blues who had mustered to fight, followed by a release of dust to create more Blues around Sydney. Even if they succeeded, they would be facing the Core and two Quarters – and a dragon.

"Eight years."

Noi hadn't raised her voice, but her flat tone still managed to cut through the noise.

"The gap before the next cycle of primacy will be eight Earth years," she continued. "Why are we even discussing this? You mightn't have been hosting one of the Reborn, but it still must be obvious to you all that there's no question of passing up this chance, or of making sure the information we have is spread as far and wide as possible."

"A cycle." Nash had straightened in dismay. "Of course. That has always been there, right in front of us. A cycle suggests repetition."

"They'll come back," Noi said. "Until there's not enough people left on Earth to make it worth their while. And then they'll skip our planet for a few cycles, until we've built up a big enough population for them to care. Over, and over, and again. Unless we stop them."

There was no argument after that.

Chapter Twenty-Four

A small 'command group' – primarily the Musketeers and the leech Blues – woke Madeleine a third time, returning to the North's suite for a strategy meeting after the rest of the hotel had been cleared. Of the three hundred and fifty-odd possessed Blues in Sydney, they had now freed a hundred and eight. There were as many Greens in the building, posing such a technical difficulty for the freed Blues that any suggestion of rescuing Blues in other hotels was quickly shut down.

"It will have to wait until after we've faced the Core. If the Spire withdraws, the Greens will recover themselves in..." Noi shrugged, her eyes still flat and dark. "The North didn't know the exact timing. A day or a week – long enough that we'll be either fighting, avoiding, or have our hands full helping them. The most we can do beforehand is try to limit Green involvement with the initial battle, and then deal with them after, along with any Moths which attack us."

"Any guesses how many will?" Nash asked.

"While the Spire stands, and the Core's alive, all of them will come. That's not an option for them. The longer the battle lasts, the more we'll have to fight." Noi nodded at the television, where an endless series of battles between possessed Blues was being waged. "Less than two hours till dawn, and we'll want to be in place well before, in case that wraps up early. Let's get this recording done."

"I'll wake Fish," Pan said, picking up one of a pair of compact video cameras Fisher had produced from his backpack.

"No, we'll do the technical sections first." Noi glanced at Madeleine, not Fisher collapsed on the couch opposite. "Everyone should get as much rest as they can."

Drowsy, but no longer numbingly exhausted, Madeleine stayed curled up, watching as Noi explained the process of freeing and reviving Blues, and the best techniques for fighting Moths and their creatures. Then Haron set out the plan to bring down the Spires, in the hopes that if they failed another city would be able to carry it out.

While they talked, Madeleine watched Fisher sleep. The mouth she had kissed, the hands which had touched her. Beneath the jacket and shirt, comets. She squeezed shut her eyes, and when she opened them again he was looking back, and did not shift away. Half the room between them, and identical unhappy expressions.

Haron finished, and Noi grimly checked the time on the television. "Ready to do the history, Fisher?"

He nodded and sat up, pausing to run his fingers through his hair, trying to tame sleep-born excesses.

"You want me to hunt you out a comb?" Pan asked, still determinedly upbeat in defiance of the subdued focus which had settled on everyone else. "A mirror? How about some cucumber slices for the circles under your eyes?"

"Maybe later." Fisher's gaze was level. "You'll want to save your primping for yourself – you'll be doing a closing recording."

"Me? Why?"

"If we bring down the Spires, the Moths will be furious, desperate. Worse, if we fail, and the Moths are alertly on guard, holding the threat of dust over their cities, any free Blues are going to be facing tremendous hurdles. We've had the advantage of surprise. Picture trying to work out how to spirit punch, then heading into Moth territory hoping to free a possessed Blue, with the knowledge that the response might be the deaths of thousands of uninfected. We need an Agincourt speech."

"And you expect one from me?" Pan held the camera before him in protest. "You write me something and I'll perform it, but I'm no good with my own words."

"You always did want to play Henry Fifth," Nash said, clearly entertained.

"Yeah, I'll tell the world it's Saint Crispian's Day, that'll help. Or yell fuck a few million times, which is about my level of improv. Or–" His gaze settled on Tyler, sitting quietly at the end of Madeleine's couch. "Or, hey, world famous actor! That would make much more sense."

"But very poor casting." Tyler crossed one leg elegantly over the other, and said, in a smoky, musing voice: "'From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered '. You'd pass that up? You don't want to make that moment your own? To have aspirant actors, centuries from now, vying to play you?"

Pan was clearly much struck, but shook his head. "Now I really can't think of anything good enough to say."

"Don't try for good enough." Noi crossed to take the camera off him. "It's not the words that matter. It's the emotion. I'll film Fisher's intro, and you can think about how you feel about the Moths."

Pan wavered, then mischief crept into his expression. "I'll give it a shot for a thimble," he said, presenting his cheek.

"You and your thimbles." Noi leaned forward, but Pan, eyes wide, turned his head so that their lips met, the briefest touch before she started back. Looking close to angry, she shook her head. "You better come up with something good for that."

"I'm sure as hell feeling inspired."

It was the complete lack of imp, of any hint of joking, which brought the blush to her face. Visibly at a loss, but suddenly much more like her normal self, Noi looked down at the camera, then raised it as a shield. "Ready when you are, Fisher."

Fisher, hair almost tame, moved a few steps, waited for Noi's nod, then spoke.

"We are here because of a Moth." The words were crisp, clear. "The name he chose to use was Théoden, and he died so we could be free."

Fisher had gained the total attention of the dozen people in the suite, but he didn't react to their surprise, gazing past the camera to Madeleine.

"It is true enough that the En-Mott will leave in two years. A timeframe is useful, the first time they visit a planet, to minimise attacks. It is equally true that they will return. Their driving reason is not their ruling order, but their own survival.

"The En-Mott were once the Mottash, a tired race on a tired world. Not too different from us – warm-blooded, oxygen breathing – facing a depleted future. They were searching for ways to leave their world, and instead they left themselves. The Conversion – a two-step process, the first part of which we have experienced – was considered a triumph. Lack of water, failing crops: what did it matter if the world turned to dust if you could live on light? And the newly created En-Mott would survive centuries.

"Still, they could die, and did. A slow attrition of numbers. Reproduction of a sort was possible, a slow and deliberate division which weakened the parent, hastened death. The En-Mott had set themselves on a path to extinction.

"They turned to the Spires for a solution. One of the planetary travel methods under development before the Conversion, it had matured to the point where it could be used to look for and reach inhabited worlds. A partial conversion of a warm-blooded host gave the En-Mott access to energy reserves, enough to increase in strength, to breed without death. For the first time in centuries their numbers rose."

Fisher glanced toward the master bedroom, where the corpses of a half-dozen Moths had been chivvied out of the way.

"Their solution had trapped them in flesh, since leaving the host was dangerous, often fatal even when energy levels were high. But then a handful discovered a use for faulty conversions – the leech Blues – and the Reborn came to be. Leech Blues lack the ability to produce some of the energies which form the substance of the En-Mott, and cannot be directly possessed. But the Reborn are able to slowly transfer their...selves to them, to complete what is missing. This act, unlike their fission reproduction, increases the strength of the Moth instead of depleting it."

Madeleine sat up, and slid along the couch so she could sit shoulder to shoulder with Tyler. Her cousin, as usual, looked no more than coolly interested in proceedings, but if he had had a fortnight of assaults like the one Madeleine had experienced, what he was demonstrating was his self-control. Nash, Claire and Quan's expressions were all variations of suppressed revulsion.

"In each clan there are five Reborn. Most of the rest are the offspring of the last cycle of primacy. When the cycle ends, they are ordered to leave their hosts, and, because the Reborn do not give them time to recover strength, with a tiny number of exceptions who are strong enough, they die."

"Why?" The redhead, Claire, was staring in disbelief. "You mean they kill themselves? Why would they not just stay?"

Noi made a query signal whether they should start over, but Fisher shook his head and went on.

"They're not given a choice. The Moths' reproduction, the splitting off of part of their self, leaves their offspring bound to them – and to their progenitors. Every single Moth is in a direct line of descent from the Cores of the thirty most powerful clans, and subject to their commands. Even the Cores of lesser clans can only partially mitigate the orders of those originals, and some edicts – such as the ban against reviving discarded Blues – are absolute. Every cycle the overall number of En-Mott increases, but the cycle's pace is dictated by the needs of the Reborn, who sacrifice each generation in turn to increase their own strength.

"The only hope for a member of a new generation is to grow strong enough to survive separation, and the Reborn facilitate this by rewarding the most loyal with exemptions from reproduction, which greatly increases their chances – and can even lead to joining the Reborn. To describe what this does to the En-Mott – born with a potential life-span of centuries, and told to kill themselves within one or two decades, with a vicious competition to gain an exemption, to become one of this privileged class... A whole race driven by a combination of hate and hope. Hatred for the Reborn. Hope that they might join their ranks."

Fisher's frown had grown heavier with every word, and he stopped to take a deep breath, visibly upset. Looking directly at Madeleine, he forged on.

"Théoden, the Moth who possessed me, loathed the cycles of death. There is very little each new generation can do about their situation, and it was not until the Ul-naa Core was injured by a Blue strong enough to instinctively defend against possession that Théoden saw any way forward. While ostensibly searching for a way for the Core to overcome that instinctive defence, he worked to create an opening, a chance to end the cycles. For his apparent success in finding a way to disarm that Blue, he was rewarded with an exemption by the Core. Perhaps in other circumstances he would have taken it, despite his fury and disgust. He did so very much want to live."