Engineman Part 30

"If need be, we would co-ordinate suicide bombing campaigns to rid the Rim of the interfaces. There are only two hundred interfaces in that sector, and we have more than a hundred thousand willing Disciples capable of taking out more than just the Organisation's portals..."

He allowed his gaze to wonder across the staring faces. Weiner took up his challenge. "You don't mean to say that if we refused to co-operate...?"

Hunter stood his ground. "I mean to say, Herr Weiner, that if the free expansion did not see reason and agree to the closures, then the Disciples would be forced to consider extending their bombing campaign. We have the numbers, the will, and the knowledge that we cannot lose the fight..."

A sudden and profound silence hung over the guests.

"Now," Hunter went on, "if you would care to make your way to the other end of the hangar, I think Dr Chang is ready to show you around the phasing in area."

Muttering, the visitors trudged from the hospitality lounge.

Hunter remained behind, relieved that for the time being the pressure was off. In all his years of preparation, he had underestimated how narrow-minded and pragmatic some people would be when faced with such petty considerations as reduced profits. He tried to look at the situation from their point of view - but that was impossible. He had after all experienced the full and terrible magnitude of the annihilation wrought on the continuum. He tried to convince himself that all, in time, would be well: soon, even the doubters would experience, via the communion chamber, the full horrors of what was happening beyond the illusion of this reality.

And, if all else failed, then the might of the Disciples would succeed.

He left the hangar to get a breath of fresh air and to be alone for a few minutes. He strolled across the tarmac, the weight of his daughter's diary making itself felt in his jacket pocket. The uncertainty of Ella's fate was the most agonising factor in all this: if only he knew, even if she were dead, the truth - then he could begin to grieve, to mourn, and then maybe begin to heal himself. But, knowing nothing, he was in a state of limbo, a void of inertia in which he could do nothing to help himself. There was nothing to grasp and hold onto in this realm of ignorance, nothing on which to gain purchase and orient himself.

He was weeping. Quickly, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his good eye. He took out a photograph and stared at it. Ella was standing beside a canvas, her expression severe. The painting showed what might have been a flayed corpse, spread-eagled against a backdrop of stars. In its agony, the painting seemed to communicate to Hunter his daughter's own anguish. She stared from the photograph, accusingly.

He put the picture away and crossed the tarmac to where Sa.s.soon and Rossilini leaned against the Mercedes. They straightened up as he joined them.

"Did you get those paintings into storage, Mr Sa.s.soon?"

Sa.s.soon nodded. "They're in a warehouse in Pa.s.sy."

"Very good." He had it in mind to start a gallery in his daughter's name: The Ella Marie Hunter Museum of Modern Art. It had a certain ring. It was the least he could do.

"Sir!" A shout from the hangar. A technician stood at the door. "It's the Sublime Sublime. We're in contact!"

Hunter returned to the hangar, hurried through the lounge and over to the stacked monitors and busy technicians. There was considerable excitement in the air, an almost palpable sense of relief. The techs called to each other across their machinery. The six dignitaries stood off to one side, an aide talking them through the lead up to the phasing-in manoeuvre.

Hunter made his way to where a technician was standing with a pair of headphones held high. Hunter took the earphones. He preferred to stand, so that he could see where the 's.h.i.+p would soon materialise.

He pressed the 'phones to his ear. "Reading. Hunter here..."

Static in a deafening burst, then: "Miguelino here. sir..." More static broke up the signal.

"Mr Miguelino, good to hear from you. I take it-"

"... mission was successful. We have the Lho, and around forty Enginemen besides-" Static crackled in Hunter's ear. "... bombed the temple, destroying it. We lost three Disciples and two Lho in the attack-"

"But the Effectuators, Mr Miguelino? Did you get the Effectuators?"

More static. "... safe and sound, sir, all six."

"Excellent work, Mr Miguelino. Congratulations."

"One more thing... Bobby Mirren pushed us to the Rim and back in record time. He's totally lapsed now - a human Effectuator, according to his brother."

So that that was why the Lho were so insistent that Bobby push the 's.h.i.+p on the mission. He recalled the Lho's secrecy - their fear that, if the truth was discovered, then all Alpha Enginemen would be in mortal danger. was why the Lho were so insistent that Bobby push the 's.h.i.+p on the mission. He recalled the Lho's secrecy - their fear that, if the truth was discovered, then all Alpha Enginemen would be in mortal danger.

"ETA just five minutes from now, sir-" A storm of static caused Hunter to pull the 'phones away from his ear. When he returned it, Miguelino was saying, "Kelly, sir. He wants to speak to you."

"Kelly? Splendid. Put him on."

Hunter glanced around, at the dignitaries, at the s.p.a.ce in the hangar where the 's.h.i.+p would materialise. He considered Kelly, the years they had spent planning for this very moment.

"Hirst... you there?"

"Hearing you loud, if not clear, Kelly."

A squall of static obliterated Kelly's first few words. Then, "... have some good news for you, Hirst."

"Miguelino pre-empted you, Kelly. Congratulations on a successful mission."

"Not that, Hirst, for Fernandez' sake!" More static. "... sleeping at the moment, but otherwise okay-"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, she's sleeping at the moment. She's taken a beating, but she's otherwise okay."

It was as if a blood vessel had burst in his head. His vision blurred and he felt dizzy. "Kelly?"

"... they tortured her, but she survived. She's looking forward to meeting you, Hirst." He could hear laughter in the American's voice.

"Ella...?" he whispered.

"Who else, Hirst? Of course, Ella - your daughter!" More static. "... so I'll see you then, Hirst. Kelly, out."

Hunter found the tech's seat and his legs gave way beneath him. He experienced an incredible sensation of pressure within his chest, threatening to burst from him in an explosion of joy.

"Sir, is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. Couldn't be better." He gathered himself, stood and made his way around the computer banks to where a small crowd stood waiting for the Sublime Sublime to materialise. to materialise.

"She's looking forward to seeing you..."

Hunter focused on the s.p.a.ce before him, trying to imagine the 's.h.i.+p existing in some realm beneath or beyond this one, the 's.h.i.+p which was bringing his daughter back to him, after all these years.

"They tortured her... but she survived."

He was oblivious to the activity around him, the scurrying techs and mechanics placing stanchion barriers around the phasing-in area. People slapped him on the back and shook his hand, mouthing congratulations, but all he heard was the countdown. "Ten, nine, eight, seven..."

He had so much to apologise for, so much back-dated affection to bestow on her.

"Six, five, four, three..."

As he waited for the smalls.h.i.+p to materialise, he realised that he had never felt so excited before in his life.

"Two, one... zero! Phasing in!"

A wind blasted out from nowhere, storming through the a.s.sembled spectators and causing some to turn away or hide their eyes. Hunter stood his ground, gasping and registering the brief flicker of an image, soon gone. The gale changed direction, the air in the hangar sucked into where the 's.h.i.+p had briefly existed. Again, the silver, streamlined shape appeared, disappeared and then returned. It strobed into existence, the periods of its absence diminis.h.i.+ng, so that within fifteen seconds it had fully materialised and sat on the concrete of the hangar as if it had been there all along.

Hunter could see the shapes of figures at the main viewscreen, looking out. He strained his eyes to see Ella, desperate now to gain visual confirmation of the miracle Kelly had announced.

The hatch remained closed for just five minutes, but to Hunter it seemed like an eternity. Mechanics swarmed over the 's.h.i.+p on ladders, connecting leads and pumps, monitoring exterior gauges. All about him was activity, while all he could do was stand and stare.

Then, quite suddenly, the hatch swung down and hit the concrete with a resounding clang. Enginemen and Lho appeared at the exit, paused and then made their way down the ramp to cheers and applause from the ground-crew. The aliens descended warily, looking about them as if in wonder. Lho stretcher-bearers carrying the Effectuators emerged from the 's.h.i.+p and were met at the foot of the ramp by armed escorts who ushered them across the hangar to the dome. Disciples spilled out, men and women who had worked with Hunter in the early days. They shook hands with him, spoke hurried words of celebration and triumph, and he returned both handshakes and words, but hardly realised he was doing so, his gaze locked on the exit for the first sign of his daughter.

The first wave of pa.s.sengers cleared from the ramp, and there was a short delay until the next group appeared. Hunter saw Miguelino and his pilot and three more Enginemen - and then, behind them, the tiny, fragile figure of Ella.

Miguelino and the pilot strode down the ramp, embraced Hunter and spoke greetings he never heard, then pa.s.sed on.

Ella had stopped at the top of the ramp. Reality seemed to dissolve around her; things vanished from his perception, sound became silence. All he could see was his daughter, all he could hear was his heartbeat.

She stepped down the ramp and limped towards him. Her face was bruised and swollen, her right arm swaddled in a white bandage. She looked so small and frail and vulnerable, ill-treated and in need of what, for years, he had denied her.

She almost fell the last metre into his arms, and she was no weight at all as he caught her and held her to him. He felt her warmth against him and the slightness of her body as she wept against his chest and he repeated her name like an incantation.

Above her head, at the top of the ramp, Ralph Mirren appeared, Dan Leferve beside him. Mirren carried his brother in his arms. He seemed like a man transformed, then, purged of torment and pain. Slowly, they made their way down the ramp and joined Hunter and Ella, and together they crossed the hangar towards the geodesic and the act of communion about to take place.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Mirren sat in a booth at the back of the Blue s.h.i.+ft restaurant bar, nursing a beer and considering the events of the past few weeks.

The bar was quiet, unlike the last time he was here. It was five o'clock, and the serious partying was yet to begin. He enjoyed the quiet, and the solitude. For a week after his return from the Reach, he'd been hounded by news agencies wanting his story. He'd gone to ground, holing up in a luxurious penthouse suite with Dan, Hirst Hunter and Ella. For days they watched the news break with something close to disbelief. Mirren had found it hard to credit that events in which he'd played so important a part had conspired to bring about such radical change.

All across Earth, and across the Expansion, interfaces were being dismantled. In their place, new stars.h.i.+p lines were starting up, old vessels, mothballed until now, hauled out of retirement and repaired. It would be a long time before the lines would be at anything like their former strength, but every day he heard of new lines starting up and old ones resuming their trade.

Hirst Hunter had got in ahead of the compet.i.tion and set up his own business: the Hunter Line, equipped with a fasts.h.i.+p, a bigs.h.i.+p and several small s.h.i.+ps. Effectuator Bobby Mirren was at this minute mind-pus.h.i.+ng a fasts.h.i.+p out to the Rim worlds, carrying UC officials to oversee the dismantling of various colonial interfaces.

Mirren smiled to himself and ordered another drink.

Over the course of the past week, Dan and Ella had struck up a touching friends.h.i.+p. Despite the age difference - Dan was almost twenty years her senior - they were spending all their free time together, with Hirst Hunter's blessing.

Mirren wondered if it was seeing Dan so happy with someone which had prompted him to make the call that morning.

For days he'd thought long and hard about doing so. He had so much to say to Caroline, so much to apologise for. He wondered how he would begin to atone for his past treatment of her.

He looked up suddenly, aware that he was being watched.

He smiled. "Carrie..."

She stood beside the booth, looking down on him uncertainly. "I got your message, Ralph." She gave a humourless laugh. "I thought it was a joke, at first."

"No joke." He gestured to the padded seat across from him. "I wanted to see you."

She slipped into the seat and ordered a drink from the press-select panel. When the gin and tonic emerged from the slot, she took a quick sip and stared at him.

"I've been watching the news, Ralph. It's... incredible."

"That's the reason I didn't get in touch sooner, Carrie. After you saved me, Hirst Hunter picked me up and we fluxed. Since we got back... Well, things have been rather hectic."

She regarded her drink. "The news reports... They said you'd contracted Heine's." She looked up at him. "Is it true?"

Was it genuine concern he saw in her expression? To his surprise, he thought it was.

He took a chance, reached out and laid a hand on top of hers. She didn't pull away. "A variant of Heine's. It's not as bad as the original strain." He shrugged. "Hunter's paying for me to have the very best treatment there is."

"And?"

"And the medics reckon I have between six to eight years."

At last she said in a small voice, "I suppose it doesn't matter, does it, now that you've found the flux again?"

He squeezed her fingers. "I've been giving it a lot of thought, Carrie. Everything. My life. What happened out there... You."

She looked surprised. "Me?"

"I have a lot to apologise for, Carrie. How I treated you, what I did, walking out like that... Even a few weeks ago, when you got back in touch..." He shook his head. "I was a different person then. I had... certain pressures, years of..." He stopped, then said, "I'm sorry. I'm making excuses. But there's no excuse for what I did. I just want to apologise for everything."

She stared at him, her expression unrelenting. "And now?" she asked.

"Now?"

"What kind of person are you now, Ralph? You're obviously still craving the flux, and what with the opening of the lines-"

He stopped her. "That's what I wanted to tell you, Carrie. I won't be fluxing again." Even as he spoke the words, he was aware of his heartbeat.

She widened her eyes. "You won't? But..."

He shrugged. "What I experienced in the flux, with Bobby, what I saw of the ultimate truth... it's as if that was enough, for now. I know for a fact that it's what I'm destined for... what we're all destined for, ultimately... and that's enough."

"That's quite a change around, Ralph. You were quite the disbeliever."

He shrugged. "I was wrong. I realise that now. Out there, I saw the truth." He took a long swallow of beer. "Anyway, now... now I have things to do on Earth, things I neglected to do for a long, long time."

He looked into her calm, oval face. She swallowed, then said, "And what is that, Ralph?"

He said, "You recall when we met a few weeks ago... you said you wanted us to be friends again."

She squeezed his hand. "You'd like that?"