Deathstalker War (29 page)

“These bloodstains are long dry,” said Toby. “Whatever went down here, it’s over. Guess the war must still be going on.”

Finlay unloaded the memory crystal containing the pinnace’s log, took it back to the cargo ship, and ran the last few entries on the viewscreen. Everyone crowded together before the screen, but the log didn’t have much to tell them. The pinnace had been sent down by the Quarantine starcruiser, the
Deliverance
. It had carried a crew of twenty, all trained marine elite reconnaissance troops. They’d tracked Marker’s beacon to the escape pod and put down beside it. There were no more log entries after that.

“They had the same idea we had,” said Toby. “And look what happened to them.”

“We don’t know what happened to them yet,” said Giles testily. “We don’t know what happened to anyone yet.”

“None of this makes sense,” said Evangeline. “If the recon team were all killed, where are their bodies? And why bury the ship instead of them?”

“More mysteries,” said Giles. “I hate mysteries. According to our sensors, there’s some kind of building or structure just over the horizon, due east of here. I say we go and take a look. Maybe we’ll find some answers there. Or at least some clues.”

“What about the two contacts I made?” said Julian. “They were definitely some kind of life-form, heading this way.”

“If you see anything that isn’t us or Harker, you have my permission to shoot first and ask questions afterward, if at all,” said Finlay. “The one thing we can be sure of is that we don’t have any friends here. This particular part of Haceldama may seem quiet and harmless, but that doesn’t mean you can trust it an inch. Stay alert, all of you. This place kills people.”

And so they set off across the grassy plain. Anywhen or anywhere else, it might have been a pleasant stroll. The gentle slope was just enough to stretch their legs, and the air was full of the smell of freshly cut grass. The day was warm enough to make them feel pleasantly loose, with the occasional cool breeze to make sure they didn’t overheat. The going was firm without being hard, and the grass sprang back up immediately, no matter how hard they trod on it. Perfect weather, in a silent, empty world. Under a sun with a smiley face.

The horizon slowly flattened out before them, eventually revealing a sudden dip in the land, like a huge grassy crater. In the middle of this was a large building, simple and blocky, constructed in bright primary colors. A high arch stood between the rebels and the building, covered in swirling red and white stripes. A large sign at the top of the arch said
WELCOME
TO
SUMMERLAND
! The rebels stopped at the base of the arch to study the sign. The letters were big and blocky, almost cartoonish, like something from a children’s primer, designed to be bright and cheerful and nonthreatening. There were floodlights at the top of the sign, but they’d all been smashed. There were splashes of old, long-dried blood on the arch supports.

Beyond the arch, the building had its own cheerful sign, saying
Welcome Station
. Giles headed toward it, gun in hand, and the others followed him. The sound of their feet crunching the grass seemed very loud in the eerie silence. They all had a constant feeling of being watched, but no matter how quickly they looked in any direction, there was never anyone to be seen. As they drew closer, they discovered that the Welcome Station hadn’t escaped the war’s attention either. The inner walls, still remorselessly bright and cheerful, showed the scars and pockmarks of discharged energy guns. There were long jagged cracks in the floor and holes in the ceiling, from high explosives. There were dark scorch marks everywhere, from fires that had been left to burn themselves out. And though the walls still stood, the Welcome Station was now cold and lifeless.

The rebels moved slowly forward, checking every corner and shadow for potential enemies. They all had guns in their hands now, except for Toby and Flynn, who were getting it all on film. The eerie silence hung about them like a shroud as they passed from room to room. The wooden furniture had been broken apart and the pieces tossed aside, like so much kindling. Some of it had been used to start fires, but they hadn’t taken. There were children’s paintings on the walls, damaged by smoke and heat, and curling at the edges. Some were splashed with blood. More unusual were oversize children’s toys, overturned here and there, like a rocking horse large enough for a grown man to ride. As they pressed deeper into the Welcome Station, the rebels found themselves stepping over more toys left scattered on the floor as though their owners had been interrupted in their play, or had had to leave in a hurry. But for all the damage and destruction, the fires and the smeared bloodstains, still the bright colors dominated the rooms, as though the rebels were walking through a violated and abandoned nursery.

But if that was so, where were the children?

And then they came to the gymnasium and had to fight not to look away. They were in the heart of the building now, with bright sunlight streaming through the shattered windows, illuminating climbing frames and vaulting horses and other simple equipment, most of it wrecked or overturned. And there, at the back of the room, on a row of wooden stakes hammered into the floor, were impaled twenty severed human heads. There was no sign of the bodies anywhere, or even that much blood. The shrunken, mummified faces stared back at the rebels with empty eye sockets. Their mouths dropped in silent, eternal screams.

Evangeline moved in close beside Finlay, gripping her gun so tightly her fingers ached. If anything had moved in the shadows just then, she would have shot it without hesitating. It seemed there was no room left in her for anything but anger and rage at what had been done to these men and women. Somehow she knew without a shadow of a doubt that nothing human had done this. This was an affront to Humanity, planned and delighted in by its perpetrators. Giles glared about him, searching for some enemy to revenge himself on, but there was no one. Toby gestured to Flynn, who nodded, and sent his camera forward for a close-up, panning slowly along the row of screaming faces.

“You bastards,” said Julian, his voice thick with emotions he couldn’t afford to release. “You bloody vultures. Haven’t you any feelings? Is that all you can think of, getting good pictures for your ghoulish audience? Doesn’t this move you at all?”

“Sure,” said Toby. “That’s why we’re getting a record of each face, so they can be identified by their next of kin.”

“Oh,” said Julian. “I’m sorry.”

“And because it’s a dynamite shot. It’ll make a hell of an impact on the early-morning news slots. This is the kind of footage that wins awards.”

“Not to mention bonuses,” said Flynn.

“Right,” said Toby. “And if it puts a few people off their breakfast, so much the better. With a bit of luck, someone might even call in and complain. You can’t buy publicity like that.”

Julian didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t involve shouting, so in the end he said nothing. He didn’t want the others to think he couldn’t control himself. He looked to Finlay for his cue. The Campbell was looking at the severed heads, but not seeing them, his brows furrowed as he tried to remember something. Evangeline put a hand on his arm.

“What is it, Finlay?”

“I know this place,” he said slowly. “Summerland. Someone told me about it, long ago . . . This wasn’t just a pleasure planet.”

“What else was it?” said Giles.

“I’m not sure,” said Finlay. “But I think . . . it was a therapy world.”

“There’s someone outside,” Julian said abruptly. Everyone looked at him sharply, except for Giles, who nodded slowly.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Two of them. Waiting by the entrance.”

Julian looked at him. “Since when have you been an esper, Deathstalker?”

“I’m not,” said Giles. “I just know things, sometimes. Do a full scan, esper.”

Julian concentrated. “Two life-forms. Not human. Definitely not human. But . . . sort of human. I’ve never sensed anything like it. They’re waiting for us to come out. They don’t feel threatening.”

“Then let’s go talk with them,” said Finlay. “And let’s hope they have some answers. Because I’m not in the mood for any more mysteries. I just want something I can hit.”

They moved quickly back through the deserted rooms, still checking warily for ambushes as they went, until finally they reached the main entrance, then stumbled to a halt at the sight of what they found waiting for them there. Standing calmly before the entrance was a four-foot-tall teddy bear, with golden honey fur and dark knowing eyes. He wore a bright red tunic and trousers, and a long bright blue scarf around his neck. He looked warm and lovable and entirely trustworthy. His companion didn’t inspire the same kind of immediate trust. Well over six feet tall, and wrapped in a long filthy trench coat, he looked human enough, apart from the cloven feet, clawed hands, and large blocky goat’s head, with long curling horns and a permanently nasty smile. His grey fur was soiled and matted where it showed, and his eyes had a dangerous wildness to them. He stood slouching before the rebels, half the buttons missing from his trench coat, his ears drooping as though he couldn’t be bothered with them.

Finlay and his party stood very still, crowded together in the entrance. Whatever they’d been expecting, this very definitely wasn’t it. Julian felt like shooting the goat-thing on sight, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was something about the goat, and the bear. The Bear . . . Julian pushed his way forward, looking from the Bear to the Goat and back again.

“I know you,” he said hoarsely. “I know you, don’t I?”

“Of course you do,” said the Bear, in a warm and understanding voice. “All children know us.”

“You’re Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat,” said Julian. “Every child’s friend and hero.”

“Yes,” said Evangeline, pushing forward to stand beside him, her eyes fixed on the bear. “I used to have all your adventures, when I was . . . young. Full of magic and wonder and marvelous places. I remember. There were books and cartoons and films and interactive games, all to do with your adventures in the Golden Lands. I remember . . .”

“Yeah, well, we’ve been around for a while,” said the Sea Goat. “Not that we ever saw any royalties, mind. Still, that’s what happens when you’re not real, and you can’t afford a decent lawyer.”

“You’re automatons,” said Finlay. “Mechanical devices with preprogrammed minds, in the shapes of well-loved children’s characters.”

“Nah,” said the Sea Goat. “We’re just toys. We’re all toys here.”

“Welcome to Summerland,” said Bruin Bear. “Or what’s left of it. We’re here to look after you.”

“We have got to make time for an interview with them,” Toby said to Flynn. “Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat, in their own words. People go crazy for this nostalgia stuff. Damn, what else are we going to run into on this world? The mind boggles.”

“I’ve always liked the word boggle,” said the Sea Goat. “I think it’s the two g’s. I like marmalade, too. Does very interesting things with the shape of the mouth. Maarmalaade.”

Giles looked at the others. “You know these characters? Hell, they were classics, even in my day. If they’re still popular, maybe the Empire isn’t as far gone as I thought.”

“We’re hard to get rid of,” said the Sea Goat. “Never really in or out of fashion, but never really forgotten, that’s us. Some smart-ass always tries to update us, but it never takes, and they always go back to the classics in the end. That’s why we ended up here. Mind you, I don’t think our creator, whoever the hell that may have been, back in the mists of time, ever expected what would happen here. Come on, Bear, let’s get this bunch moving. It’ll be evening soon, and things are always worse once it starts getting dark.”

“Hold everything,” said Finlay. “No one’s going anywhere until we’ve got some answers. Starting with who the hell killed those marines and stuck their heads on sticks?”

“It was the bad toys,” said Bruin Bear. “The bad toys killed everyone here. By now they must know you’re here, and they’ll be coming to kill you, too. Please, come with us. We’ll take you somewhere safe, and explain along the way.”

He smiled at them winningly, and they all had some kind of smile in return. He was that kind of Bear. And because he was Bruin Bear, that most trustworthy of animals, the rebels looked at each other, nodded more or less in unison, and followed the Bear up the grassy slope away from the wrecked Welcome Station. The Sea Goat stayed at the rear, grumbling to himself and looking around him with wild staring eyes, as though he expected an attack at any moment. Even though they could all see for miles across the open grassy plains, and there was no living thing in sight. Bruin Bear led the way, doing his best to remain cheerful as he calmly and evenly unfolded a tale that grew steadily darker and more disturbing. And for all its strangeness and terrors, the rebels believed every word. He was, after all, that sort of Bear.

In the beginning, there was Shannon’s World and Summerland. Shannon’s newly terraformed planet had been designed from top to bottom to be calm and peaceful, and everyone’s idea of heaven. Or to be exact, every child’s vision of heaven. There was no ecostructure, no native life, nothing to get in the way of Summerland. A place where there were no demands, no duties, no necessary boring tasks. Just Summerland, and the toys that lived there. Intricate automatons following simple programs, based on familiar and much-loved fictional creations, from the oldest and most traditional to the very latest fads. This was to be a peaceful world, where men and women could put aside their cares and worries and just be children again. A place of gentle therapy, relaxation and rest, where children of all ages could play and laugh and sleep, secure in the knowledge that they were loved and cosseted and cared for. A place of safety, safe even from pain and stress and responsibilities.

Summerland. One man’s dream, that became every man’s nightmare.

It was very popular. Because it was in the nature of an experiment, Summerland wasn’t very big to begin with, and could only handle a few thousand visitors (or patients) at a time, so there was always a long waiting list. There were no human staff in Summerland, only the toys, so as not to disturb the illusion of the security and innocence of childhood. There was no high tech, beyond the most basic, for food and shelter and weather control, and that was kept well hidden. The toys had orders to prevent bad behavior, and if necessary remove any persistent troublemakers, so that the illusion might not be unduly shattered, but they were rarely called upon to act. Access to Summerland was too precious to risk. And so the adults became children again, and laughed and played and were content.