Mick Farren - Dna Cb 02 - Synaptic Manhunt

Mick Farren - DNA CB 2 - Synaptic Manhunt

The total silence was only broken by the soft slow dripping of the water clock. The high, narrow room

was lit by a solitary candle, and far corners of the dull stone walls were hidden in darkness. The room

was bare and austere, but it had an atmosphere of absolute calm. There was no furniture apart from the

iron stand that held the candle, the glass water clock on its wooden bench and a small raised dais in the

very centre of the room. The dais was covered with a coarse-weave straw mat.

A figure sat on the dais. It was shrouded in a plain black robe, its legs were crossed and its hands lay in

its lap with the fingers interlaced in a complicated pattern. Although the candle was placed directly in

front of the figure, its head was sunk between the shoulders in such a way that the face was obscured by

shadow. From the width of the shoulders, and the supple, powerful hands, which were clearly illuminated

by the candle, it was obvious that the figure was that of a male.

The name of the male was Jeb Stuart Ho, although, right at that moment in time, Jeb Stuart Ho hardly

existed. His pulse was down to the absolute minimum that would sustain life. His body temperature had

reduced by half and his lungs hardly stirred. Except for his upright, crosslegged posture, the lay observer

would have assumed him to be dead. But Jeb Stuart Ho was alive. The physical state that he was in was

self-induced. He would, however, certainly die within a com-paratively short time unless roused by some

outside force. The art of terminal meditation was one that was slowly and pain-fully learned. Once the

individual had reached that state there was no release from it except a sharp tap on the shoulder by

another who was practised in the same skills.

Being so close to death and so dependent on outside help might have terrified any normal person. Jeb

Stuart Ho was beyond terror. He knew nothing, although, at the same time, according to his philosophy,

he knew everything. He was in a world that few people outside the temple ever visited. It was beyond

the scope of language, beyond emotion and far past the reach of sight, taste, smell or touch.

A door at the far end of the room opened softly. Another man in a black robe entered and walked

silently towards Jeb Stuart Ho on sandalled feet. He halted in front of the seated figure, and almost

ritualistically took a short polished stick of hard dark wood out of his sleeve. He paused for a moment,

and then struck a swift, light blow on Jeb Stuart Ho's shoul-der. He stepped back and waited.

At first, nothing happened, and then the still figure made a soft noise. Jeb Stuart Ho was drawing air into

his lungs. At first it was tiny amounts and his body scarcely moved. Then his chest began gradually to rise

and fall as he sucked in deeper breaths. Finally, he completely filled his lungs, and began to raise his

head. The mind of Jeb Stuart Ho seemed to float upwards. First into a place where it was warm, then

sound invaded the comfortable area, the sighing of his blood as it slowly began to circulate through his

veins. The pulse of his heart started, up, softly and in wide-spaced intervals at first, but then quickening

and getting louder. His sense of touch came alive. He could feel the pressure of his body on the coarse

mat beneath him. He was aware of the texture of the robe that covered his body. He knew that his mouth

was dry and that his stomach would shortly begin to demand food. He rose towards the light. He opened

his eyes, and an image of the dim room rushed in with dazzling brilliance.

Jeb Stuart Ho silently regarded the man standing in front of him. He was slimmer and younger than Ho,

little more than a boy. His face was smooth and expressionless. Jeb Stuart Ho matched this first rush of

sensation, which came after the deep meditation, with his memory. The boy was Nah Duc West. His

pupil, his servant in the temple and his lover.

No spoken greeting was necessary between the two men. Ho simply stretched out his hand and touched

the younger man. Then he rose to his feet and walked purposefully out of the room. The young man

followed him.

The door of the meditation room led out into a high-ceilinged corridor. It was made from the same dull

black stone as the walls of the room. The corridor was illuminated by glowing spheres set in the walls at

regular intervals.

They walked down the perfectly straight corridor for some minutes until they came to a pair of double

doors, decorated with elaborate carvings and flanked by two more figures in black robes. They

appeared to recognize Jeb Stuart Ho, and stepped back, pushing the doors open. Once again, there was

a trace of ritual in their action. Beyond the carved doors was a huge, brightly lit circular room. It had a

domed ceiling that glowed with the same steady light as the globes.

The room was a hive of activity. Along one section of the curved stone wall, a line of black-robed figures

sat on high stools, bent over desks and drawing tables that were littered with charts, graphs, columns of

figures and computer print-outs. Another long section of wall was taken up by a huge display screen

where coloured lights and curved lines slowly shifted position. On a vast plan table in the centre of the

room, more black-clothed figures moved transparent overlays with lines and points of colour drawn on

them, similar to those on the display screen.

The most intense activity was centred round another sec-tion of the curved wall that took up nearly a

third of the total circumference. The section was covered with a soft translucent ribbed material. The ribs

ran vertically from the floor to the start of the domed ceiling. It bulged out slightly, and occasionally

undulated. Behind the material there was a soft green glow that also moved and shifted. Some patches

grew brighter, and others dimmed. The crowd of black robes that clustered round it were stroking the

surface of the soft wall section with their hands. Their palms and fingertips moved in definite, precise

patterns. Occasionally one of them would carefully insert a long fine silver needle into the material. The

operations appeared to involve a high degree of skill.

The domed room was the heart of the entire temple. It was here that Jeb Stuart Ho's brothers carried on

the eternal work. It was here that they monitored the progress of the various cultures that flourished in the

sundered world that remained after the breakdown.

Over the centuries since the natural laws had ceased to be consistent and human life had clung to areas

where artifi-cial stasis could be generated, the brothers had worked single-mindedly on their

never-ending task. They had observed and recorded the smallest event in the hundred thousand

com-munities that survived in among the grey nothings. The most insignificant happening was plotted into

their charts and in-cluded in their calculations. There was a saying among the brothers that even the fall of

a sparrow was worthy of inclu-sion in their graphs, the graphs that charted the passage of past events

and from which the brothers made their predictions for the future.

Jeb Stuart Ho had only been in the huge room four times before, but he fully understood the meaning of

the coloured points and lines. Years of study in the seminary had equipped him to recognize and

appreciate the meanings of the curves. The uphill struggle of the society seeking material progress, the

plateau form of the stable culture, the clear straight lines of the stuff beam cities in the central ring, the

elegant curve down to decadence. Jeb Stuart Ho could read the subtle-ties of history in the sudden

variations of each curve. He could recognize the sudden termination that meant that disruption had hit a

unit of civilization.

Jeb Stuart Ho stood in the doorway of the domed room. Slowly and discreetly his eyes moved across its

mysteries. His gaze stopped at the ribbed, undulating section of wall. It was the outside face of the beast.

The living meditation that made the efforts of the brotherhood possible. He stared at it in reverence and

awe. It was the whole centre and meaning of the temple. The bio-cybernetic mass of circuits and organic

life was both master and servant. It computed the patterns from which the brothers made their

predictions. It gave early warn-ing of progressions that could become critical, and it ordered the brothers

when and where to make their executive inter-ventions.

To Jeb Stuart Ho it was the centre point of his existence. It was the permanence of the state that he could

only achieve by terminal meditation. He admired the brothers who caressed the beast, the ones whose

silver needles penetrated its trans-parent hide. He respected the skills with which they transferred

information and instruction to and from the huge thinking unit.

He admired and respected them, but he didn't envy them. He had his own skills. He was, after all, an

executive of the brotherhood. His training was just as awesome.

One of the black figures bent over the expanse of plan table straightened, detached itself from the group

and approached Jeb Stuart Ho. The face above the black robe was that of a very old man. The skin was

pink and soft like a baby's, ter-ribly wrinkled and totally without hair. The eyes, however, had the look of

purposeful calm that was common to all of the brothers.

The old man halted in front of Jeb Stuart Ho and bowed. Jeb Stuart Ho returned the bow.

'I have prepared, Teacher.'

The old man nodded gravely.

'And you are ready?'

His voice had none of the weakness or quaver that normally come with great age. Jeb Stuart Ho looked

straight at the old man.

'I am ready, Teacher.'

The teacher raised in eyebrow and smiled gently.

'You are very certain for one who faces his first inter-vention.'

'All my training has led me to this point, and will carry me far beyond it.'

The teacher's eyes twinkled.

'So should you fail, the fault will lie in your training?'

Jeb Stuart Ho stood stiffly.

'I will not fail, Teacher.'

'You don't even know the details of the task that awaits you, Jeb Stuart Ho.'

'I will not fail.'

'As I said before, you are very confident.'

'An individual must not allow a false humility to cloud the knowledge of himself.'

'And you believe you have knowledge of your own readi-ness?'

'I know I am ready.'

'Suppose you were in error when you made this analysis of yourself?'

'If I was in error I would not be ready for the task.'

The teacher nodded.

'Then it must be the time for your instruction in the labours you have to perform.'

He took Jeb Stuart Ho by the arm, and led him back to-wards the carved doors.

'We will go to my chamber.'

The teacher led the way past the two impassive attendants, and back down the stone corridor. He halted

before a door, opened it and ushered Jeb Stuart Ho inside. The room was similar to the one in which Jeb

Stuart Ho had meditated. The water clock stood against the wall, the single candle burned in its holder.

In this room, however, two raised daises stood side by side. Jeb Stuart Ho stood beside one of them

until the teacher had seated himself. Then he too sat down, auto-matically crossing his legs and lacing his

fingers in an attitude of meditation. There was a long pause while the teacher stared straight forward,

apparently studying the water clock. Jeb Stuart Ho summoned energy to preserve his patience. Despite

all his training he was still eager to learn about the task. At last the teacher spoke.

'We are required once again to intervene in the affairs of the world outside. Once again their pattern

traces a path towards disaster.'

'I am eager to learn my part.'

The teacher continued to stare straight ahead.

'The loaf baked in eagerness will lie heavily in the pan. A wise man will not eat of it, lest he break his

teeth.'

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed his head in submission. He knew he stood corrected. There was another long

pause before the teacher spoke again. The water clock dripped softly.

'The task you are being set will not be simple. It can be a heavy load. Your back must be strong enough

to bear it.'

This time, Jeb Stuart Ho said nothing. The teacher con-tinued.

'The probability has almost reached maximum that large areas of the rim, and to a lesser extent the inner

sectors, will disrupt.'

He paused, and again Jeb Stuart Ho said nothing.

'The result of this disruption will be twofold. A state of war will occur which will escalate unchecked until

the antago-nized will begin to destroy their opponents' stasis generators, and disrupt the territory they

occupy. They will cause a so far uncalculated shift in the balance of our world. Taking into account the

most favourable conditions for stasis, the resultant loss of existing inhabited space would be a minimum of

65.79 per cent.'

Jeb Stuart Ho began to feel the magnitude of the task he was being set. Doubt hovered in the corner of

his mind, but he controlled his will and it faded. The teacher went on.

'The second danger that would result from this situation is that the release of energy from a certain level of

warfare would be a considerable attraction to the disrupters. They would gravitate towards the source of

energy by the shortest possible route. That would certainly involve many of them cutting through the

normally undisturbed central sectors. In this event the space and, of course, population loss could be as

high as 98.51 per cent.'

The information fell about Jeb Stuart Ho's shoulders like a heavy yoke. It was far worse than purely

physical weight. He was used to those. In advanced combat training the body is often loaded to its very

limit. This burden of responsibility would go far beyond that. He would have to be sure-footed and have

strength in excess of anything he had experienced. His boast of being ready seemed empty and childish.

Still he kept silent, and the teacher continued his instruction.

'All our calculations lead us to one conclusion. There is a single individual. The individual's future actions

will be the seeds of this disaster. If they are allowed to germinate and grow, the flowers that eventually

bloom will be terrible to look upon.'

Jeb Stuart Ho looked straight ahead.

'It will be my task to pluck those flowers?'

'It will be your task to make sure that seeds never put forth shoots.'

'I must intervene and prevent the individual from taking such action as will precipitate disaster?'

The teacher looked at Jeb Stuart Ho for the first time.

'It is graver than that. The actions and their effect on this pattern are too complex. You must remove the

individual.'

'I must kill, Teacher?'

'You must kill, Jeb Stuart Ho.'

There was a long silence. Jeb Stuart Ho looked down at his hands, and then straight ahead.

'Who is the subject?'

'A female, current age thirteen, technocrat upbringing. You will receive a data package as you depart.'

'May I ask one question? What gives us the right to calcu-late an individual must die?'

'Our calculations are accurate to the smallest margin.'

'So we take the responsibility of another's death?'

'That is a second question.'

'We are always right? Is there no room for doubt?'

'The superior man arrives at the river and crosses.'

'We are always right?'

'To the finest part of allowable error.'

They sat in silence for many minutes. The water clock dripped away the time. Jeb Stuart Ho finally rose,

bowed to the teacher and left the room. He made his way down the maze of corridors to his own cell.

Nah Duc West was waiting. He bowed as his master entered, and then looked up anxiously.

'The Teacher has instructed you in the task, master?'

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at the young man and smiled.

'You are like the moth that bathes in die flame and wonders at its burning.'

'Yes, master.'

'The Teacher gave me his instructions.'

The pupil looked up eagerly.

'And am I to go with you, master?'

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

'No, I go alone.'

'But master, for many months I have been your lover and pupil. We have shared our knowledge and our

bodies. Why do you now reject me? Why must you leave me behind?'

Jeb Stuart Ho put his hand gently on the pupil's shoulder.

'Your training must continue, Nah Duc West. Another will take my place. You are not being rejected. I

have my task, you have yours. They no longer follow the same path and we must part. It is no reason for

grief. We both continue. When travel-lers part at the crossroads they rejoice because their journey

continues to its conclusion.'

Nah Duc West bowed his head in the face of this self-evident wisdom. Jeb Stuart Ho extended his hand

and stroked his pupil's hair.

'We have not parted yet. You still have the task of prepar-ing me for my journey.'

Nah Duc West looked at the floor.

'Yes, master.'

There were a few moments while the young man stood, not moving. Jeb Stuart Ho sat down crosslegged

on his sleeping mat and looked at his pupil.

'Well, get on with it,'

Nah Duc West jerked into life.

'Yes, master.'

He went to the trunk in the corner of the room and opened it. First he took out a white cloth and spread

it on the floor. Then piece by piece he laid out Jeb Stuart Ho's equipment. Carefully he stretched out the

leather body suit. It was a one-piece black garment fastened down the front. It was re-inforced by

quilting and small silver plates over the vulnerable spots. It covered the entire body including the hands

and feet. The striking edges of these were also strengthened by strips of metal, as were the knees and

elbows.

The laying out of an executive's equipment was a serious ritual among the brothers. The sequence of

items was very important. With true regard for tradition, Nah Duc West pro-duced the wide leather belt

with its attachments for the various accoutrements. Next came the weapons: the long double handed

sword, the nanchuk: two short steel batons joined by a length of chain, the flat case of six matched

throwing knives and the.90 magnum in its carry case that also held the am-munition and the extension

barrel.

The pupil checked that each weapon was in working order, and free from dirt or rust. He knew if he

failed in this, he'd be the subject of a different, more painful ritual. He carefully placed them in their

correct positions beside the belt and the suit. The next items were equally important. The portable stasis

generator, the small black box that would prevent its wearer from being assimilated into the nothings, and

the survival case that contained water and food concentrates. When these had been laid out, the pupil

produced the final item from the chest. The thick, coarsely woven travelling cape was placed, folded, at

the corner of the white cloth.

When all this was complete, Jeb Stuart Ho finally stood up. He undid his robe and let it fall to his feet.

Nah Duc West looked lovingly at his master's thin but heavily muscled body for a moment, and then

stooped to pick up the black leather suit. He helped him struggle into it and zipped up the front. Then he

picked up the belt and strapped it around Jeb Stuart Ho's waist. Jeb Stuart Ho raised his hands as the

pupil attached the generator, the survival kit and the gun case to his belt. The sword was hung from the

straps on his back so the hilt was level with his right shoulder. The knives were buckled on to his left

forearm, while the nanchuk was strapped to the other.

Before handing Jeb Stuart Ho the folded cloak, his pupil took a mirror from the trunk and held it in front

of him. Jeb Stuart Ho regarded himself, and was pleased. His fighting suit and weapons were immaculate.

His pale face looked back at him in a suitably calm, determined manner. His dark hair hung down

straight, cut off at the shoulders in the accepted manner of the brotherhood. He would not disgrace them

as an executive. In the outside world he must be the superior man of fable. Not that he was without

advantage. His suit would pro-tect him against all human attack below the level of blades or projectiles.

Unarmed, he could defeat most men by the skill of his hands and feet. With his weapons he was as nearly

invincible as any human could be.

From the very moment of conception, and, in fact, even before that moment, he had been tailored and

trained to become a fighting machine. Only the disciplines of the brotherhood could enable him to use

such power in an ethical manner. He was confident the disciplines would hold. He would sustain the

honour of his teacher.

Jeb Stuart Ho took the cloak from his pupil and threw it around his shoulders, making sure that the hilt of

his sword was still easily accessible. Then he leaned forward and gently kissed his pupil.

'Goodbye, Nah Duc West.'

'Goodbye, Jeb Stuart Ho.'

He walked quickly out of the room, and turned in the direction of the huge outer doors. When he

reached them, the teacher was waiting for him.

'You go?'

'Yes, Teacher.'

The teacher handed him a small package wrapped in white silk.

'This contains all you need to know about the subject.'

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed.

'Yes, Teacher.'

The teacher returned his bow, and the great doors slid open with a faint hiss.

Jeb Stuart Ho stopped and looked back at the temple. Al-though he had been outside before on

exercise, the first taste of the open never failed to excite him. He stared at it sur-rounded by the flat,

featureless plain that was fixed in perfect stasis by its unfaltering generators. The temple itself filled him,

with wonder. It was a huge, flat-sided pillar that seemed to reach halfway to the yellow sky. Its black

surfaces were com-pletely blank. The only break in the smooth stone was the huge doorway through

which he had left. Even this was dwarfed by the enormous size of the building.

Jeb Stuart Ho turned away from it. He walked on across the even plain, towards the point where the

power of the genera-tors began to diminish and the regularity of the plain broke up into wild, jagged rock

formations.

When he reached these, Jeb Stuart Ho was forced to climb and scramble. The rocks, as he got further

from the generators' fields, began to change colour. The whiteness of the plain first turned to grey and

brown and then, further out, exploded into a riot of purple and green. The sky too changed. It be-came

more strident. Above the black building it had been a pale yellow, but over the wilderness of rocks it

altered to a burnished gold.

Here and there, in the deep crevasses, pools of grey shift-ing nothing swirled and smoked. Jeb Stuart

Ho's hand went to his belt and switched on his generator pack. A red pilot light glowed, and it came alive

with a soft hum. He knew if he should accidentally slip into one of those grey pools without the generator

protecting him, he would be spread three ways across another universe.

Here and there, spiky plants clung to cracks in the rocks. One in particular, with extravagant red

blossoms, attracted him. He stopped and examined it. Then he stepped back and stood tense, just as

they had taught him in the swordsman's class. His hands flashed to the sword hilt behind his left shoulder.

The blade whistled. The topmost flower was de-tached from its stalk. It dropped to the rock, rolled and

fell down into one of the grey pools. As it touched the nothings, it smoked for an instant and melted

away.

Jeb Stuart Ho stood holding his sword and feeling a little foolish. He was ashamed that he should have

succumbed to using his hard-learned skills in such a childish display of bravado. It was unforgivable at a

time when all his concentra-tion should be directed to his task.

He decided it was time for him to study the data package. He unzipped the top of his body suit and

removed the silk bundle. He squatted on a nearby rock, and carefully began to unwrap it. It contained a

tri-di cube and a roll of parchment. Jeb Stuart Ho held up the cube and looked at it. In it was the image

of a girl in her early teens. She had dark hair and a pale, petulant face. Her eyes were large and

surrounded by dark makeup. Her mouth was coloured dark red and looked cruelly sensual. A loop

action inside the cube made the image repeat the same sequence of expressions over and over again.

First she stared out impassively at him, then slowly she smiled. Her lip curled, and the smile turned into a

sneer. Finally the expres-sion faded, only to start the cycle again. Jeb Stuart Ho turned the cube slowly

round examining the girl's face from every angle. He wished that he had had more experience with

women at the temple. The teachers, in their wisdom, en-couraged the pupil executives to find love among

their own sex.

He put down the cube, and turned his attention to the parchment. It was covered with computer print

which he read carefully. There was a solemnity about the moment. He was reading about the person he

was going to kill.

A.A. Catto.

Like her brother Waldo, she has remained at a static age for a considerable period.

Member of Directorate (technocrat ruling class) of Con-Lec, a corporation citadel culture in S class

decay.

Petulant, wilful, vicious, with high, pain-related sexual appetite. Escorted by human male, reportedly

named Reave.

Mistress/pet relationship.

No martial skills.

All training directed to sensory satisfaction.

IQ 197.

M-potential nil.

Psi-property nil.

Retention factor B +.

Subject's present location midsection city Litz (pop. 1,241,000 - Stuff contract pleasure city) where she

moves in a sensation-seeking subgroup.

Class A subject. May surround herself with mercenary pro-tection. Approach with caution.

Aim of intervention is death of subject.

Jeb Stuart Ho read the parchment twice and then folded it beside the cube. He wrapped both in the

piece of silk and returned them to his suit. Then he stood up. He knew the first place he had to go. He

once again began picking his way through the rocks.

As he went on, moving, all the time, away from the temple, the landscape continued to change. The rock

formations began to fragment and break up. Where there had previously been bright colours they faded

to a dull grey, not much darker than the pools of shifting nothings. In fact, pools was no longer an

adequate description. They had enlarged and merged, so there were now wide expanses of emptiness.

Here and there, the rocks jutted out of them, like ice floes on a frozen sea.

It was necessary for Jeb Stuart Ho to cross these expanses. Although his personal generator protected

him from the fate of any unshielded matter that came in contact with the noth-ings, it was still an unnerving

experience to step out into the strange, alien mist and suddenly find the solid foothold created by the

generator.

On a particularly wide flat expanse of rock, he paused for a moment. He unhitched the supply case from

his belt and took a sparing mouthful of water. He looked around, shielding his eyes, and searching for

something on the far horizon. He knew that if he was to find the girl A.A. Catto he would have to start by

looking for her in the city of Litz. In order to get there he would require a guide. There was a small group

of humans who had the power to know where exactly they were in the strange shattered world that had

remained after the breakdown. There were certain animals that appeared to have the same faculty. Jeb

Stuart Ho knew he would need one of these if he was to make the journey to Litz without much

excessive wandering.

If the faculty of location could have been bred or taught, the brotherhood would undoubtedly have

produced their own guides. But it seemed to be a completely random gift. All they could do was to keep

track of the movements of the various potential guides. Jeb Stuart Ho knew he had been lucky. There

was one listed as being in a place on roughly the same plane as the temple. If his calculations had been

correct, the shattered landscape he was crossing should be the area where the generator fields of the

temple and the place he expected to find the guide failed to overlap completely.

He thought he saw something on the very horizon, but the air shimmered so much where the nothings

fought to absorb and destroy it, it was hard to tell. He walked on, and gradually he became positive that

there was a tall, dark shape in the dis-tance. After walking a little further it became apparent that the dark

shape was a building of some sort. In some ways it was like the temple. It was obviously very tall, and

dominated the surrounding landscape in much the same way as the temple. As far as Jeb Stuart Ho could

see it didn't have the clean lines of the temple. Its outline seemed cluttered and fussy.

He knew very little about the place he was going to. The reference had only told him its name. It had said

a guide was currently at Wainscot, and given some approximate direc-tions. Jeb Stuart Ho quickened his

pace. He could waste no time on the preparatory moves that were needed before he could fulfil his

mission.

As he came nearer the dark building, the landscape began to stabilize. It was no more attractive, though,

than the borders of the nothings. The rocks did not return to their earlier colours. On the outskirts of

Mick Farren - Dna Cb 02 - Synaptic Manhunt

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