Neal Asher - Cowl

Polly took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She noticed how his gaze kept straying to the arm on which the scale clung, concealed by her sleeve. Pushing for some clearer reaction she could read, she released his hand, pulled up her sleeve, and held out her forearm before him.

‘Do you know what this thing is?’

‘It is a tor: an organic time machine that is dragging you back to the beginning of time—to the Nodus. You are one of Cowl’s samples.’

Instead of asking the questions that clamoured for attention after such a statement, Polly said one thing only, ‘I don’t want to go-’

The man nodded and slowly began to walk away from her. She could feel a tension in him; that he was holding something back. She had much practice in reading men’s body language. She followed him across the rockscape to a campsite, where supplies were neatly stacked and a pot bubbled on a compact stove. Thote gestured to a blanket spread on the ground and Polly sat down, while he squatted by the bubbling pot and stirred it.

‘You are stretched out like elastic from your own time. There is admittedly a small risk in removing the tor; it is a living parasite and made to cling to and draw its host back in time until removed and read by its maker, Cowl. I too can remove it, though, and once it is removed you will immediately fall back to your own time. I take it you want to return there?’

Now that sounds a little too easy to me. Watch out for this fucker.

‘When I left my own time someone was busy trying to kill me.’

But no, she had dragged the killer along with her… and what did that mean? Would he still be there on her return? Would he have never left? Thote looked at her as if reading her mind.

‘You won’t return at the exact moment you left. You’ll arrive in what would naturally be your own time. You have been travelling for some days now, personal time, so that means you’ll arrive back the same number of days after your departure.’

Easy as sucking eggs. He’s lying to you.

Polly did not want to hear Nandru. It all seemed so perfect. She didn’t want to be chewed on by bad-tempered dinosaurs. She didn’t want to run into this Cowl, whose name alone sounded ominous. But Nandru was right—this whole situation stank.

‘Why do you want to do this?’ she asked the stranger.

‘I’ll do anything to thwart Cowl’s plans.’

Thote ladled what smelt like fish stew into a bowl and handed it to Polly.

‘Here, you’ll find this tastes better than anything you’d find on the shore.’

Polly took the proffered bowl and sniffed it. The food smelt delicious, with chunks of white meat and pieces of fibrous vegetable floating in a thick sauce. She dug in and raised a spoonful to her mouth. It was in her mouth and she was already chewing, when she noticed the avid look on Thote’s face. As a sudden bitterness froze her tongue, she spat the food out and threw the bowl at him, then stood, reeled, staggered back. He stood up also with a calm satisfaction.

He gestured then to a nearby rock crevice, where lay the remains of some other time traveller, the tor still wrapped like a coral on one arm, but gathered round bare bone. Empty eye sockets, bare ribs exposed through decaying clothing, some mummified flesh remaining, blond hair fallen from a bare skull.

‘That will be your future if you keep going. There’s a lot of time still between here and the Nodus, and few can survive the journey.’

Polly tried to shift, tried to suborn that webwork inside, but her will seemed flaccid and confusion was filling her head.

Well, what a surprise—the guy’s not at all nice.

‘You can’t go on, Polly. Even if you do survive the journey, Cowl will kill you.’

‘Like you give a shit,’ said Polly thickly. She concentrated harder, trying to get hold of something, anything inside her. But the drug blurred her perceptions, ate into her concentration. Thote could sense what she was trying to do. His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he relaxed.

‘Too late now, primitive,’ he said. ‘And, to a certain extent, I’m sorry to have to do this to you. But for two years now I’ve been fishing interspace with what’s left of my mantisal from this shit hole.’

Polly tried to hurl a curse at him, but her mouth felt like some dentist had injected half a pint of novocaine and all she managed was to dribble down her chin.

‘What I intend to try has been tried once and failed once.’ He gestured to the skeleton. ‘I think I have it now, though — desperation refines the thought processes. You see, Cowl is sampling genetics, which is why it doesn’t matter to him if you reach him dead or alive. You are just a portable food sack for your tor, as it already has your code locked inside it—and that’s all Cowl needs to find out if he is managing to destroy the future.’ Thote shrugged. ‘All I really need do is graft some of your skin into a vorpal strut, plasticize the tor, and wrap it around that. The field should then be magnified enough to include me—even though I am not the actual sample.’

Polly’s vision was growing black around the edges, but she retained enough to see the shattered remnants of silvery cagework come folding into existence to one side of Thote. He drew an ugly commando knife from his boot, then stepped towards her.

I think we’ve seen and heard about enough now.

The webwork slammed into life with more power than ever. Thote’s scream of rage echoed after her into black and grey, as her own silver cage materialized around her.

Some sort of projector, stabbed into the ground like a garden lantern, shrieked a warning only seconds before an explosion ripped out of the jungle wall. Tack stepped out, triggered a burst of fire towards the one visible umbrathant, then dropped and rolled as horsetails sheared over behind him. A man to Tack’s left was turning his carbine towards the jungle when his legs fragmented below the knee. Saphothere came out so fast he was stepping on the man’s shoulder before the same man had fully collapsed, then went into a roll from which he managed to shoot backwards, taking off the victim’s head, before disappearing into shadow. Tack was back into cover by then, running at full pelt, slamming through foliage, then out and accelerating around the foot of the mountain. More explosions behind him. Someone screaming. Turn and head upslope, legs hammering down hard as spring steel. Foliage breaking behind him. Down, roll, fire. The umbrathant following him was gone—then springing up again from behind a boulder, firing his carbine, the scree slope erupting at the spot from where Tack leapt. Disappeared. Tack firing at the rock face immediately behind the boulder, his rounds set for timed detonation rather than impact. The man standing up to fire again, then screaming as Tack’s rounds detonate about his feet. A second’s hesitation. Enough. One explosive shell spreads the man’s brains up the rock wall. And Tack was moving on again.

All the way upslope now, the battle flashes shielded by the mountain flank. The rock wall runs up the mountain like a spine and curves round above him. Already seen and studied. His weapon back in its holster, Tack heads up it like a spider, sprints across a stony plateau, drops down beside a three-metre waterfall, then descends the course of a stream in bounding strides on slimed rocks, shooting one brief puzzled glance at strange amphibians glowing with blue light in a shallow pool. Then upwards, scrambling a fern-covered slope. Finally gazing down on the encampment.

Saphothere is there, pinned down on a slope, a man and a woman firing towards him but not daring to emerge from cover. No sign of Meelan or the other one. Perhaps dead? Tack fires a single burst and the man fragments, the woman rolling aside with a horrible scream, her bare rib bones exposed. Then Tack is down the slope—the two packs resting just below him—his implant coming offline, and the temporal web inside him hardening like glass. He hits the ground and comes up in time to see a column of distortion howling up into the night, near Saphothere, bulging and breaking open on a nightmare landscape beyond. The beast breaking through! Flesh-light floods the area, in which Tack sees an explosion tossing Saphothere into the air, and Meelan hurtling in from the side, hitting him in a flat dive.