The Seven. Peter Newman
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Название: The Seven
Автор: Peter Newman
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Вестерны
isbn: 9780008239077
isbn:
‘Understood,’ he replies, irritated at the needless update and the nerves that prompted it. ‘Inform me if this changes.’
He clasps his hands behind his back and checks the impulse to pace. He of all people must appear calm.
Alpha’s orders are clear. Their purpose is to purge the world with fire and song. They are to become legend, immortalized in canon for future generations. Or so he thought. Delta’s order was equally clear: stop. In the absence of specifics they are forced to err on the side of caution. They have stopped their pursuit, powered down their engines. Now there is nothing to do but wait.
The Knight Commander looks up. Beyond the metal above his head, somewhere in the floating sky palace, The Seven are together and, as far as he can tell, they are arguing.
The thought is ludicrous, going against everything he was taught, from his earliest days in his choir, through to his squire training, even the many lectures received from Obeisance. For the first time in his life, the Knight Commander feels the bedrock of his certainty crack and begin to crumble.
In the courtyard of Alpha’s sky palace, two essences rage back and forth, a pair of storm fronts colliding, colliding again.
Delta’s and Alpha’s argument is elemental, made up of words, will and song.
For the humans unfortunate enough to witness the display, it is too much. Blood runs from ears overwhelmed with furious song, pupils gape wide, blown forever. They are not dead but there is little of life left in them.
Others distributed throughout the palace are merely driven to their knees in terror. Some weep, some cover their faces, others pray, enacting the rite of mercy. All responses are equally irrelevant.
Beta of The Seven watches, aghast, while Epsilon, Theta and Eta simply wait as they have always waited.
The bones that Delta brought with her from Greyspot Three have been destroyed. Too fragile to be exposed to such energies, they have been reduced to ashes that swirl briefly about the two immortals to be scattered, forgotten. She came with a question and it has been answered. This leads to more questions, each a stab in the eye, and more answers, like slaps across the face, coming faster and faster, rising in volume and anger until even Beta looks away.
Abruptly it ends, with Alpha’s hand on Delta’s throat. At the contact something in her seems to break and her eyes half-close, body flopping, going slack. Alpha does not let her fall, not yet. His anger is not done.
He walks up winding stairs to the battlements, dragging Delta after him, her heels ringing against each step.
Beta follows and, after a pause, Epsilon, Theta and Eta do the same.
Past bowed heads and trembling bodies, Alpha goes, ignoring all. Displeasure radiates from him in waves, driving people from his path like iron filings from a magnet, flipped the wrong way.
Raising Delta over the edge, he draws his sword. Its eye is open, glaring balefully at Delta as she dangles, a puppet, stringless.
When Alpha draws back the weapon the light around it sparks so brightly that the blade turns black within it.
And then, Beta is at his side, one hand on his wrist.
Alpha looks down.
Their eyes meet.
One Thousand and Forty-Nine Years Ago
Massassi lets the slab take the weight of her body, groaning with pleasure as it lowers her into the vat. Nutri-fluid oozes between toes and into armpits, thickening at the base of her neck and the points along her spine, supporting, warming.
Damage sustained long ago has led to a regimen of treatments. Injections, tablets and organ stimulation are all daily routines. Some to manage the pain, others to keep her alert. Such things have taken their toll, however. Her hair is gone and her nails have fallen out. The metal studs she used to plug old wounds were not her best work, a rushed solution, plaguing her with regular inflammation and infection.
For years she has endured such things, a small price to pay for the safety of the world. No longer. At last she is able to rest. Alpha is here now, and he is more than able to run the Empire, giving her a well-earned break.
She tries to remember the last time she felt this relaxed and finds she cannot. The Nutri-fluid has eased her physical aches and Alpha has taken away the awful responsibility. It may have cost her the best years of her life but she has done it.
Hours pass, happy dozing punctuated with periods of self-satisfied reflection. Normally, her quick mind would be getting bored but she feels no need to move. Perhaps this is part of getting old, taking pleasure in the smaller things. Perhaps it is just that she is tired. For once, Massassi feels no desire to dig deeper. Understanding is not necessary. She could lie here until the end of time.
Her slumber is disturbed by knocking, insistent, on the side of the vat. Massassi wakes unwillingly.
It is Peace-Fifteen. One of the best of the new generation. Massassi only has to glance at the girl’s essence to know that something serious is going on. A bad tempered command sets the slab into motion, raising her from the vat into colder, more miserable air. ‘What is it?’
Peace-Fifteen bows, making the sign of the Eye. ‘It’s Alpha.’
She forces herself upright, ignoring her protesting back. ‘Well don’t just stand there! Help me up!’
Massassi is quickly wrapped in a self-sealing robe and ushered out of the chamber. She sees the fear in the girl, and some of it begins to leach into her. ‘What’s happened to Alpha?’ A flurry of possibilities already runs through her mind. Has her beautiful creation broken after a fall, a miscalculation on her part allowing the essence to slowly leak from him? Or perhaps she has failed to calibrate his wings properly. They worked well at low altitude but what if he has gone higher, trusting to her designs? What if she has made another mistake as she did with the Breach?
Peace-Fifteen shakes her head. ‘Nothing’s happened to him, Your Imperial Majesty. I have come to ask you to stop him.’
The relaxed feelings have evaporated and Massassi feels a familiar dread return. ‘Show me.’
Along corridors and through transport chutes they go, rushed along by automated platforms and assisted walkways, until they reach a set of doors that lead to a comms tower.
At Massassi’s approach the doors open, revealing the full extent of her failure. Four bodies litter the room, utterly broken. A fifth person makes muffled noises, his skull stuck between the wall and Alpha’s hand.
Unprepared for the sight, Massassi stops to stare for a moment. In that moment, Alpha squeezes and blood streaks stark red against silver skin.
Too late, her lips move. ‘What is this?’
Alpha turns, his eyes lightening with love. ‘Creator!’ He strides over the bodies towards her, opening his arms.
Massassi raises her hands, warding him off. ‘I said, what СКАЧАТЬ