The shot caught him three metres short of the summit, where the saplings and scrub had given way to a bald mat of grass which bordered the sliproad. The pain seared down his nerves like a lava flow. He saw his arms windmilhing insanely, fingers extended like albino starfish. As he fell there was just one question looping through his brain. Why hadn’t Gabriel known? CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO G reg woke to find he couldn’t move. His toes and fingers were tingling, not so much pins and needles as pokers and knives; the aftermath of a stunshot charge. Arms and legs ached dully. Guts knotted tight, rumbling ominously. A livid collection of aggravated bruises and scrapes. His cortical node prevented the worst peaks of neural fire from stabbing into his brain, but the cumulative effect was atrocious. He opened his eyes, seeing greyness distorted by octagonal splash patterns. His whole body was quivering now, drumming against whatever hard surface he was lying on. The tingling bloomed into a sandpaper rasp which the cortical node hurriedly muted. Consciousness seemed like nothing but constant suffering. He instructed the node to disengage his nerves altogether. Sensation fell away, leaving him alone in grey nothingness. He closed his eyes and slept. At the second awakening his thoughts were dearer. He’d stopped bucking, still on his back and unable to move. Genuine tactile sensation had replaced the tingling. The surface he was lying on was vibrating faintly. Heavy machinery, somewhere not too far away. A stifled monotonous hum backed the supposition. He opened his eyes again, focusing slowly. Gabriel was lying beside him, shuddering, in the throes of stunshot backlash. Her mouth gaped, drooling beads of saliva. Greg tried to reach out to her, found his hands were immobilized under his back. There was a rigid bracelet about each wrist, bolted ~p the floor; it was the same for his ankles. Bloody uncomfortable. They were in a small empty compartment, metal walls, metal floor, metal ceiling. Painted grey. The only light was coming through a grille in the door. MINOSTAR RISING 321 Greg blinked at that door, haunted by its familiarity. It was rectangular with curved corners, fastened by bulky latches. The last time he’d seen that particular arrangement was on board the Mirruzm. ‘Oh, shit.’ And under way too, by the sound of it. Thinking logically, they’d have to be heading down the Nene. Or up? No, the river wasn’t deep enough to take the Mirriam west of Peterborough. The Wash and the open sea, then. Next question: Why? Not just to dump them overboard. There were far simpler ways to dispose of bodies. Besides Kendric had gone to a great deal of trouble snatching them alive. Nothing pleasant, hundred per cent cert. ‘Greg?’ Gabriel’s voice was tiny, fearful. ‘Greg, it’s gone.’ ‘What has?’ His own voice wasn’t much better. ‘No, wait, think before you speak. Remember they’ll probably be listening.’ ‘Bugger that. My precognition won’t work. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us.’ ‘You really gave your gland a workout snatching Katerina, remember? We all have to throttle back occasionally, nature never intended our brains to take the psi strain.’ ‘Shut up and listen, arsehole. There is absolutely nothing. I can’t see a second into the future. I don’t even know what you’re going to say!’ He could hear the fright bubbling through her voice. She was holding back a long, terrified scream. Hear it, but not sense it. The corrosive throb of overdriven synapses had faded, he must’ve been out for several hours. He’d recuperated enough to use the gland again. It began to discharge a murky cloud of neurohormones, But that secret gate into the psi universe remained firmly shut. He couldn’t even perceive the glow of Gabriel’s mind, not fifty centimetres from his own. Impossible. His skin crawled, goose bumps rising at the black sense of deprivation. Mortal again. After fifteen years it was hard. ‘Me too,’ Greg said. ‘Not a peep.’ The breath came out of her in a woosh. She let her head 322 PETER F.HAMILTON rest on the decking, staring into a private purgatory. ‘What have they done to us, Greg?’ ‘They haven’t done anything to us. You were using precognition right up until the Duo crashed. We didn’t eat anything dodg~ we certainly weren’t infused with anything.’ ‘What then?’ ‘Must be something which affects psi directly.’ ‘What?’ she shouted. ‘I don’t fucking know. Ask Kendric, he’s the one into pilfering new discoveries before they even make it out of the laboratory.’ Gabriel closed rheumy eyes in anguish. ‘Funny, I always thought I didn’t want to see the end coming. Now I’m sure it is coming I’d like to see it. Not knowing is too much like cold turkey.’ ‘Silly girl. You just want to see which of our escape plans works the best.’ ‘Escape plans,’ she snorted in a resigned amusement which nudged disapprobation. ‘Sure, Greg. Sure.’ After a while she asked, ‘What do you think they want us for?’ ‘Information. They want to know what we’ve discovered of their operation, how much of that we’ve told Waishaw. Once they know that they’ll see what they can salvage. Hopefully that isn’t going to be much, we’ve done a pretty good job up to now.’ ‘Great. That makes me feel one hell of a lot better.’ She lapsed into sullen silence.