Xeelee: An Omnibus: Raft, Timelike Infinity, Flux, Ring by Stephen Baxter

Author:Stephen Baxter [Baxter, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction, Post-Apocalyptic
ISBN: 9780575090446
Google: Dw8MD-v1KlQC
Amazon: B003FXCSOK
Publisher: Gateway
Published: 2010-03-17T11:00:00+00:00

14

‘Xeelee.’

Amidst the wreckage of ceiling-farm buildings, Hork cradled the head of his father in his lap. He looked up at Muub, despair and rage shining from his bearded face.

Muub studied the broken body of Hork, Chair of Parz Committee, determined to forget his own personal danger - exposed as he was to the mercurial anger of the younger Hork - and to view this shattered man as just another patient.

As soon as word of the latest Glitch reached Parz, Hork, fearing for his father’s life, had summoned Muub. Now, less than a day later, here they were at the experimental Crust farm.

The small medical staff maintained here had clearly been overwhelmed by the disaster. They had greeted Muub on his arrival with a bizarre mixture of relief and fear - eager to hand over responsibility for the injured Chair, and yet fearful of the consequences if they were judged to be negligent. Well, the staff here had clearly done their best, and Muub doubted that the attention Hork had received could have been bettered even within his own Common Good Hospital. But the medics’ work had been to no avail, Muub saw immediately. The large, delicate skull of the Committee Chair was clearly crushed.

A Guard, crossbow loaded, hovered over the body, watching Muub surreptitiously.

Hork lifted his face to Muub; Muub read bitterness, apprehension and determination in Hork’s round, tough features. He tried to put aside the interest shown by the Guard in his movements. Hork was a grieving son, he told himself. ‘Sir,’ he said slowly. ‘He’s dead. I’m sorry. I . . .’

Hork’s eyecups seemed to deepen. ‘I can see that, damn you.’ He glanced over his father’s crushed body, picking at the Chair’s fine robes.

‘The staff here were afraid to tell you,’ Muub said.

‘Do they have reason to be?’

Muub tried to judge Hork’s mood. He was honest enough to admit to himself that he would have no compunction in delivering the hapless attendants here up to Hork’s wrath, if he thought it were necessary to save himself. But Hork, though clearly shocked, seemed rational. And in his heart he wasn’t a vindictive man. ‘No. They did everything they could.’

Hork ran a hand over his father’s thin, yellow hair. ‘Make sure you tell them I appreciate their work. See they understand they’re under no threat for their part in this . . . And see they get on with treating the rest of the injured here.’

‘Of course.’ There was plenty of work for the medics here. As the Air-chariot had hurtled beneath the devastated hinterland, Muub had caught shocking, vivid glimpses of smashed fields - of coolies and uprooted wheat-stems drifting alike in the placid Air - of shattered, exploded buildings. Air-pigs had nosed among drifting corpses, seeking food. He shuddered. ‘I may be forced to stay here myself, sir, after you’ve departed. There is urgent work to be done, all around this area, finding and treating the wounded before . . .’

‘No.’ Hork still stroked his father’s head, but his voice was brisk, businesslike.

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