Neal Asher - The Engineer Reconditioned

“It is where he came to do wrong as well,” said Ghort.

“What do you mean?” asked Tamsin.

Ghort gestured for him to follow and led him to the part of the ship he had searched.

“There,” he said, pointing to a shape lying below mounded vines creeping up a section of hull. Tamsin stepped closer and saw that a tiger lay there. It was dead. Half its head burnt away.

“Is that the…” Tamsin trailed off as Ghort shook his head.

“It’s not the one we saw. This one is younger, and a female. It seems your brother did not empty the charge of the gun back there.”

“But why kill it?” asked Tamsin. “He killed Jeleel, not this tiger.” Ghort nodded then pointed. Tamsin turned to see the tiger they had first seen, standing close by and watching them. It shook its head and let go a short coughing growl. It turned away, paused, and then looked back at them.

“I think we should follow it, don’t you,” said Ghort.

“Why should we do that?” Tamsin asked.

Ghort pointed to the horizon, which was now made distinct by an orange glow. The steel moon was now at its zenith and the same glow etched one side of it. Sunrise was imminent.

“In very little time Sapher will again be armed. We must find him quickly. We must end this.”

“You still have not explained why we should follow this tiger,” said Tamsin.

“Because it will lead us to Sapher,” said Ghort.

“Why should it do that?” asked Tamsin.

“Tigers don’t behave like this. I think the Owner still has an interest here,” Ghort replied. Tamsin felt his stomach lurch: the things he had seen this night, the things he had been told.

“You would know. You’ve had plenty of time to observe them,” he said.

“That I have,” replied Ghort. “That I have.”

The tiger led them away from the ship and along trails beaten through the grass. The sun broke the horizon and leached colour back into the world. The tiger’s coat was gold and snow and its eyes pure topaz each time it looked back at them. As the sun cleared the horizon they heard movement in the grasses all around them. The tiger brought them to a clearing beaten down in the grass. In this clearing tigers patrolled. Tamsin had never seen so many together. In the centre of the clearing lay a boulder of grey metal laced with golden pipes and strange cooling veins.

“Piece of a jump engine,” said Ghort.

Only because of what he had been told in the last hour did Tamsin understand what Ghort meant. He acknowledged this additional information, but could not relate it to any reality he knew. His attention focused on the tigers, and then on the figure crouching on top of the artefact. Sapher was naked and there was blood all over him. Keeping a wary eye on the tigers, which in turn completely ignored him, Tamsin walked towards his brother. He saw that Sapher had the gun next to him catching the rays of the early sun. He raised his spear to his shoulder, not sure what he would do next.

“Have you come to kill me, Tamsin?” said Sapher. “Please try.” Tamsin halted and lowered his spear.

“Why, Sapher? Why did you do it?” he asked.

“Because I did not know right from wrong. Because I had no empathy. Because I was insane, brother,” said Sapher, and as he said it he looked at the gun next to him.

“I don’t understand,” said Tamsin.

Sapher looked up.

“You saw the tiger?” he asked, then after Tamsin nodded he continued, “We can kill each other with impunity and it is for us to decide if it’s a crime or not. The tigers are his, though, and if we kill them we will be punished.”

“What is your punishment to be?” asked Ghort, from beside Tamsin. Sapher glanced at the big man and Tamsin saw that there were tears in his brother’s eyes.

“Be?” said Sapher. “I’ve already been punished.”

“A whipping, is that enough?” asked Tamsin, his anger growing. Sapher stared at him.

“No, brother, I stripped myself and ran through the grass naked so it would cut and flail me. I wanted the pain, brother, but it was not enough. The Owner’s punishments are more subtle and more powerful than that.”

“What was your punishment?” Tamsin asked.

“Sanity,” Sapher replied, and picked up the gun.

Tamsin threw his spear. There was a flash of light and that spear turned to ash. Its blade fell red hot out of the air to clang against the base of the artefact and there set a small fire. For a moment Tamsin thought Sapher had shot his spear out of the air. He had not. The gun was pointed off to one side.

“Too easy,” said Sapher, then he put the gun up against his own face and pulled the trigger. Tamsin ran to his brother as he fell to the ground. Sapher lay in the grass gasping in agony. His face was burned down to the bone. He had not waited long enough and there had not been sufficient charge in the gun. Tamsin halted then turned to Ghort.

“Please,” was all he said.

Ghort drove his wide-bladed spear into Sapher’s chest, and ended it.

All but one of the tigers slid off into the grasses the moment Sapher died. The tiger that remained was the one that had led them to the clearing. How could it have been any other? It watched them while they dug a hole with Ghort’s spear and placed Sapher in it. It watched them while they filled it in, then it moved towards them when they were ready to return to the village.

“Is that it now?” said Ghort. “Have you finished?”

The air distorted and emitted a low plangent groan. In place of the tiger now stood the shape of Temron.

“I’m never finished,” said the Owner.

Tamsin stepped forward. He held the gun at his side.

“Why are we less than animals to you?” he asked.

The Owner regarded him, eyes changing to red now, face slewing and blurring and changing.

“We have an agreement,” he said.

Tamsin fought his anger. He’d just asked the question one might ask of a god. The Owner was not a god. He had to remember that. He glanced aside as Ghort stepped forward.

“I’m ready now,” said the big man.

The Owner nodded and gestured for him to come forward. Ghort did so. The Owner reached out and took hold of his pendant, pulling and snapping the chain. Ghort sagged, sank to his knees, then with a sigh he fell over onto his side. Tamsin moved closer. His brother had killed himself because of this… man. He knew that the Ghort he knew was now dead. He had the gun. It was charged… But he knew that was wrong. He knew that he didn’t understand anywhere near enough.

“He was Ghort — quiet and dependable and distant… yet he told me he has lived many lives. Who was he?”

With Ghort’s pendant clutched in his right hand the Owner carefully studied Tamsin.

“He was a foolish man who served me badly. Now he is a wise man who will serve me well,” he said. Tamsin closed his eyes. Quite deliberately he raised the gun then shoved it into his belt pouch. He said,

“You are real and now everything has changed. How can I be at peace? How can I just live the life I have always lived?”

“My answer should be that it is not for me to answer you. But you are somewhat unique, Tamsin. I can give you more if you wish it. Most people don’t. Most people lack the imagination to see beyond the simple act of living. Would you serve me, Tamsin?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Then first, Tamsin, you must learn wisdom and the patience that is integral to it.” Tamsin felt his soul pendant grow hot against his chest, then slowly begin to cool. He pressed the palm of his hand against it and tried not to be frightened of what he knew it meant. As the air around him distorted and the immensity behind reached out to pull him back the Owner spoke again.

“Raise your people up, Tamsin,” he said.