Perdido Street Station Part 33

Isaac glanced around him to see if any of the lights in the street were coming on. So far they seemed un.o.bserved.

From behind the door, Magesta Barbile was being difficult.

"I . . . I'm not sure about that . . ." she said. "It's not really a good time . . ."

"Dr. Barbile . . . Magesta . . ." said Derkhan quietly. "You're going to have to open this door. We can help you. Just open the f.u.c.king door. Now."

There was another moment of dithering, then Magesta Barbile unlocked the door and pushed it open a crack. Derkhan was about to seize the moment by pushing past her into the house, when she started and stood quite still. Barbile was holding a rifle. She looked horribly uncomfortable. But however unpractised she was, the weapon was still levelled at Derkhan's gut.

"I don't know who you are . . ." began Barbile querulously, but before she could continue Lemuel's huge friend, Mr. X, reached easily and without speed around Derkhan, grabbing the rifle and shoving the heel of his hand over the firing-pan, blocking the path of the hammer. Barbile began to keen, and she pulled the trigger, eliciting a mild hiss of pain from Mr. X as the hammer snapped onto his flesh. He shoved the rifle backwards, sending Barbile flying onto the stairs behind her.

As she flopped and scrambled to right herself he stepped into the house.

The others followed. Derkhan did not protest at Barbile's treatment. Lemuel was right. They did not have time.

Mr. X was standing holding the woman. He held her patiently as she flopped and snapped back and forth, emitting terrible crooning moans from behind his hand. Her eyes were wide and white and hysterical with fear.

"Dear G.o.ds," breathed Isaac. "She thinks we're going to kill her! Stop!"

"Magesta," said Derkhan loudly, kicking the door closed without looking. "Magesta, you have to stop this. We're not militia, if that's what you're thinking. I'm a friend of Benjamin Flex."

At that Barbile opened her eyes wider and her struggles slowed.

"Right," said Derkhan. "And Benjamin's been taken. I suppose you know that." Barbile watched her and nodded quickly. Lemuel's enormous employee dropped his hand from Barbile's mouth experimentally. She did not scream.

"We're not the militia," repeated Derkhan slowly. "We're not going to take you like they took him. But you know . . . you know know . . . if we could trace you, if we could suss out who was Ben's contact, that they're going to be able to." . . . if we could trace you, if we could suss out who was Ben's contact, that they're going to be able to."

"I . . . That's why I . . ." Barbile glanced over at the discarded rifle. Derkhan nodded.

"All right, listen, Magesta," she said. She spoke very clearly, her eyes on Barbile's all the time. "We don't have much time . . . Let go of her, you a.r.s.e! We don't have much time, and we have to know exactly what's going on. There is some mighty G.o.dsd.a.m.ned weird stuff going on. And an awful lot of threads seem to converge on you. So let me suggest something. Why don't you take us upstairs, before the militia come, and explain to us what's going on?"

"I only just found out about Flex," said Magesta. She was sitting huddled on her sofa, clutching a cold cup of tea. Behind her a large mirror took up most of the wall. "I don't really follow the news. I had a meeting scheduled with him a couple of days ago, and when he didn't come, I got really scared that he'd . . . I don't know . . . told on me, or something." He probably has, thought Derkhan, and said nothing. "And then I heard some rumours about what happened in Dog Fenn when the militia put down that riot . . ."

There was no G.o.dsd.a.m.n riot, Derkhan nearly shouted, but she controlled herself. Whatever reason Magesta Barbile may have had for giving information to Ben, political dissidence was clearly not one of them. Derkhan nearly shouted, but she controlled herself. Whatever reason Magesta Barbile may have had for giving information to Ben, political dissidence was clearly not one of them.

"So these rumours . . ." Barbile continued. "Well, I put two and two together, you know? And then . . . and then . . ."

"And then you hid," said Derkhan. Barbile nodded.

"Look," said Isaac suddenly. He had been silent until now, his face twisted tensely. "Can you not f.u.c.king feel it? Can't you taste it?" He shook his hands in claws around his face, as if the air was a tangible thing he could grip and wrestle. "It's as if the d.a.m.n night air's gone rancid rancid. Now, maybe it's just blind d.a.m.n coincidence, but so far every bad thing that's happened for the last month seems to be tied in to some f.u.c.king conspiracy, and I'm d.a.m.n well betting that this ain't an exception."

He leaned in close towards Barbile's pathetic figure. She gazed at him, timid and terrified.

"Dr. Barbile," he said levelly. "Something that eats minds . . . including my friend's mind; a militia raid on Runagate Rampant Runagate Rampant; the very f.u.c.king air air around our ears turning into some rotten soup . . . around our ears turning into some rotten soup . . . What is going on? What is going on? What's the connection with dreams.h.i.t?" What's the connection with dreams.h.i.t?"

Barbile began to cry. Isaac nearly howled with irritation, turning from her and throwing up his hands in exasperation. But then he turned back. She was speaking through her snivels.

"I knew it was a bad idea . . ." she said. "I told them we should keep control of the experiment . . ." Her words were almost unintelligible, broken and interrupted with a slew of snotty tears. "It hadn't been going long enough . . . They shouldn't have done it . . ."

"Done what what?" said Derkhan. "What did they do? What was Ben talking to you about?"

"About the transfer transfer," sobbed Barbile. "We hadn't finished the project but we suddenly heard it was being wound down, but . . . but someone found out what was really happening . . . Our specimens were being sold sold . . . to some . . . to some criminal criminal . . ." . . ."

"What specimens?" said Isaac, but Barbile was ignoring him. She was unburdening herself in her own time and her own order. specimens?" said Isaac, but Barbile was ignoring him. She was unburdening herself in her own time and her own order.

"It wasn't quick enough for the sponsors, you know? They were getting . . . impatient . . . The applications they thought there might be . . . military, psychodimensional . . . they weren't coming. The subjects were incomprehensible incomprehensible, we weren't making progress, and . . . and they were uncontrollable uncontrollable, they were just too dangerous dangerous . . ." She raised her eyes and her voice, still crying. She paused, then continued, quieter again. . . ." She raised her eyes and her voice, still crying. She paused, then continued, quieter again.

"We might have got somewhere, but it was taking too long. And then . . . the money people must've got nervous. So the project director told us it was over, that the specimens had been destroyed, but that was a lie lie . . . Everyone knew it. This wasn't the first project, you know . . ." Isaac and Derkhan's eyes widened sharply, but they were silent. "We already knew one sure way to make money from them . . . . . . Everyone knew it. This wasn't the first project, you know . . ." Isaac and Derkhan's eyes widened sharply, but they were silent. "We already knew one sure way to make money from them . . .

"They must've sold them to the highest bidder . . . to someone who could use them for the drug drug . . . That way the sponsors made their money back and the director could keep the project going for himself, co-operating with the drug-man he sold them to. But it wasn't . . . That way the sponsors made their money back and the director could keep the project going for himself, co-operating with the drug-man he sold them to. But it wasn't right right . . . It wasn't right that the government should make money from . . . It wasn't right that the government should make money from drugs drugs and it wasn't right that they should steal our and it wasn't right that they should steal our project project . . ." Barbile had stopped crying. She just sat, rambling. They let her talk. . . ." Barbile had stopped crying. She just sat, rambling. They let her talk.

"The others were just going to leave it, but I was angry angry . . . I hadn't seen them hatch, I hadn't learnt what I needed to learn, for nothing. And now they were going to be used for . . . for some villain to make money . . ." . . . I hadn't seen them hatch, I hadn't learnt what I needed to learn, for nothing. And now they were going to be used for . . . for some villain to make money . . ."

Derkhan could scarcely believe the naivety. So this was Ben's contact. This stupid minor scientist piqued at having her project stolen. For that, she had given evidence of the government's illicit deals, she had brought the wrath of the militia onto her own head.

"Barbile," said Isaac again, much quieter and calmer this time. "What are they?"

Magesta Barbile looked up at him. She looked slightly unhinged.

"What are are they?" she said dazedly. "The things that've escaped? The project? What are they? they?" she said dazedly. "The things that've escaped? The project? What are they?

"Slake-moths."

CHAPTER T THIRTY-ONE.

Isaac nodded as if this revelation made sense. He prepared to ask her another question, but her eyes were no longer on him.

"I knew they'd escaped because of the dreams, you know?" she said. "I could tell they were out. I don't know how they escaped. But it shows that their d.a.m.n sell-off was a bad idea, doesn't it?" Her voice was strained with desperate triumph. "That's one in the eye for Vermishank."

At the sound of the name, Isaac felt himself spasm. Of course, a part of his mind thought, calmly. Makes sense that he'd be in on this. Another part of him was screaming internally. The strands of his life were throttling him like some unforgiving net.

"What's Vermishank got to do with this?" he said carefully. He saw Derkhan look at him sharply. She did not recognize the name, but she could tell that he did.

"He's the boss," said Barbile, surprised. "He's the head of the project."

"But he's a bio-thaumaturge, not a zoologist, not a theorist . . . Why's he in charge?"

"Bio-thaumaturgy's his specialism, not his only area. He's mainly an administrator. He's in charge of all the biohazard stuff: Remaking, experimental weapons, hunter organisms, diseases . . ."

Vermishank was in charge of sciences at the University of New Crobuzon. It was a high-profile, prestigious position. It would be unthinkable to award such an honour to someone antagonistic to the government: that was obvious. But Isaac realized now that he had underestimated Vermishank's involvement with the state. He was more than just a yes-man.

"Vermishank sold off the . . . slake-moths?" Isaac said. Barbile nodded. A wind had picked up outside, and the shutters were rattling and banging violently. Mr. X looked around at the noise. No one else took their attention from Barbile.

"I was in touch with Flex because I thought it wasn't right," she said. "But something happened . . . the moths are out. They've escaped. G.o.ds only know how." I know how, I know how, thought Isaac grimly. thought Isaac grimly. It was me. It was me. "Do you know what it "Do you know what it means means that they're out? We're all . . . we're going to be that they're out? We're all . . . we're going to be hunted hunted. And the militia must've read Runagate Rampant Runagate Rampant and . . . and thought that Flex had something to do with it . . . and if they think Flex did then soon . . . soon they'll think that and . . . and thought that Flex had something to do with it . . . and if they think Flex did then soon . . . soon they'll think that I I did . . ." Barbile began to snivel again and Derkhan looked away in disgust, thinking of Ben. did . . ." Barbile began to snivel again and Derkhan looked away in disgust, thinking of Ben.

Mr. X walked over to the window to rearrange the shutters.

"So, look . . ." Isaac tried to collate his thoughts. There were a hundred thousand things he wanted to ask, but one was absolutely pressing. "So Dr. Barbile . . . how do we catch them how do we catch them?"

Barbile looked up at him and began to shake her head. She glanced up briefly, between Isaac and Derkhan who loomed over her like anxious parents, past Lemuel who stood to the side, studiously ignoring her. Her eyes found Mr. X, who was standing by the uncovered window. He had opened it a little, was reaching out to pull in the shutters.

He was standing quite still, looking out.

Magesta Barbile looked over his shoulder at a flickering wash of midnight colours.

Her eyes glazed. Her voice froze.

Something was battering at the window, trying to reach the light.

Barbile rose, as Lemuel and Isaac and Derkhan flocked to her in concern, asking what was wrong, unable to understand her little cries. Her hand rose, shaking, to point to the paralysed figure of Mr. X.

"Oh Jabber . . ." she whispered. "Oh dear Jabber, it's found me, it's tasted me . . ."

And then she shrieked, and spun on her heels.

"The mirror!" she screamed as she did so. "Look in the mirror mirror!"

Her tone was fraught and utterly commanding. They obeyed her. She spoke with such desperate authority that not one of them succ.u.mbed to the instinct to turn and see.

The four of them gazed into the mirror behind the tattered sofa. They watched transfixed.

Mr. X was stepping backwards with the mindless tramp of a zombie.

Behind him, there was a dark flurry of colour. A terrible shape squeezed and folded in on itself to push its organic folds and spines and bulk through the little window. A blunt eyeless head poked itself through the opening and turned slowly from side to side. The impression was of an impossible birth. The thing that loomed through the s.p.a.ce in the gla.s.s had made itself small and intricate by contracting in invisible, impossible directions. It shimmered unreally under the strain, hauling its glistening carca.s.s through the opening, arms emerging from its dark bulk to push and strain against the window frame.

Behind the gla.s.s those half-hidden wings boiled.

The creature pushed suddenly and the window disintegrated. There was only a small, dry sound, as if the air was leeched of substance. Nuggets of gla.s.s sprayed the room.

Isaac watched, transfixed. He trembled.

At the edge of his vision he saw Derkhan and Lemuel and Barbile in the same state. This is madness! This is madness! he thought. he thought. We've got to get out of here! We've got to get out of here! He reached out and plucked at Derkhan's sleeve, began to pick his way towards the door. He reached out and plucked at Derkhan's sleeve, began to pick his way towards the door.

Barbile seemed paralysed. Lemuel pulled at her.

None of them knew why she had said to look in the mirror, but none of them turned around.

And then as they faltered towards the door, they froze again, because the thing in the room stood.

In a sudden flowering motion it rose behind them, filling the mirror into which they gazed, aghast.

They could see the back of Mr. X, who stood and gazed at the patterns on those wings, patterns that rolled with hypnagogic haste, the colour cells under the creature's skin pulsing in weird dimensions.

Mr. X stepped back to see the wings better. They could not see his face.

The slake-moth held him in thrall.

It was taller than a bear. A clutch of sharp extrusions like dark cartilaginous whips blossomed from its sides and flickered out towards him. Other, smaller, sharper limbs flexed like claws.

The creature stood on legs like monkey's arms. Three pairs jutted from its trunk. It stood now bipedally, now on four legs, now on six.

It reared up on its lower legs and a sharp tail slithered forward from between its legs for balance. Its face- (Always those huge irregular wings, curving in strange directions, shifting in shape to fit the room, each as random and inconstant as oil on water, each a perfect reflection of the other, kept gently moving, their patterns changing, flickering in a seductive tide.) It had no eyes that they could recognize, only two deep sunken hollows sprouting thick, flexing antennae like stubby fingers, above rows of huge slab-teeth. As Isaac watched, it c.o.c.ked its head and opened that unimaginable mouth, and from it a huge, prehensile, slavering tongue unrolled.

It waved quickly through the air. Its end was coated in clumps of gossamer alveoli that pulsed as the enormous thing flailed like an elephant's trunk.

"It's trying to find me me," wailed Barbile, and broke, and ran for the door.

Instantly the slake-moth flickered its tongue towards the movement. There was a succession of motions far too quick to see. Some cruel organic jag snapped out and pa.s.sed through Mr. X's head as if through water. Mr. X shuddered suddenly and just as the blood began to well explosively through the sliced bone the slake-moth reached out with four of its arms, pulled him briefly closer and hurled him across the room.

He flew through the air trailing gore and bone-shards like a comet. He died before he landed.

Mr. X's carca.s.s slammed into Barbile's back, sending her sprawling. He landed heavy and lifeless across the door. His eyes were open.

Lemuel, Isaac and Derkhan broke for the door.

They were shouting simultaneously in a cacophony of registers.

Lemuel leapt over Barbile, who lay supine and desperate, trying to kick free of Mr. X's huge torso. She rolled onto her back and cried out for help. Isaac and Derkhan reached her simultaneously, and began to tug at her arms. Her eyes were tight closed.

But as they pushed Mr. X's body free and Lemuel kicked it savagely out of the way of the door, a hard, rubbery tentacle snaked into their vision and wrapped with a whiplash motion around Barbile's feet. She felt it and began to scream.

Derkhan and Isaac pulled hard. There was a moment of resistance, and then the slake-moth yanked at her with its tendril. Barbile was whisked out of Derkhan and Isaac's grasp with humbling ease. She slid at breakneck speed along the floor, splinters tearing at her.

She began to scream.