Read The Evolutionary Void for Free Online

His glance swept up and down, giving her
clothes a quick appraisal. “Been a while since we’ve had anyone walk in,” he
said, stressing “walk.” His accent was the same as that of the old couple she’d
met.
    “But I’m not the first?” she asked warily.
    “No, ma’am. The Silfen path ends somewhere out there beyond the crater
wall. I’ve met a few travelers like yourself over the years.”
    “Right,” she said, relaxing slightly.
    Ragnar leaned over the counter, speaking quietly. “You been out there
long?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “Okay. Well, you’ve not chosen the best time to come back. These are
troubled times for the old Greater Commonwealth, yes indeed.” His eyes narrowed
at her blank expression. “You do know what the Commonwealth is?”
    “I know,” she said solemnly.
    “That’s good. Just checking. Those paths are pretty tangled, by all
accounts. I had someone once come straight out of a pre-wormhole century. Boy,
oh boy, were they confused.”
    Araminta didn’t argue about how unlikely that was. She smiled and held up
her cash coin. “A room?”
    “No problemo. How long will you be staying?”
    “A week.” She handed over the coin.
    Ragnar gave her clothes another skeptical viewing as he handed the coin
back. “I’ll give you number twelve; it’s a quiet one. And all our rooms have
complimentary toiletries.”
    “Jolly good.”
    He sniffed. “I’ll get you an extra pack.”
    Room 12 measured about five meters by three, with a door on the back wall
leading to a small bathroom that had a bath and a toilet. No spore shower,
Araminta saw in disappointment. She sat on the double bed and stared at her
feet; the pain was quite acute now. It took a while for her to tackle the
problem of getting her boots off. When she did unfasten them, her socks were
horribly bloody. She winced as she rolled them off. Blisters had abraded away,
leaving the raw flesh bleeding. There was a lot of swelling, too.
    Araminta stared at them, resentful and teary. But most of all she was
tired. She knew she should do something about her feet, bathe them at least.
She just didn’t have the energy. Instead, she pulled the thin duvet over
herself and went straight to sleep.

    Paramedics were still working in Bodant Park ten hours after the riot, or
fight, or skirmish—whatever you called it. A lot of people were calling it mass
murder. Cleric Phelim had thrown the Senate delegation out of his headquarters
when they had leveled such an accusation against him, hinting broadly that the
Commonwealth would convene a war crimes tribunal with him as the principal
accused. But in an extraordinarily lame public relations exercise, five hours
after the agents had finished blasting away at each other, he had finally
lifted the restriction on local ambulance capsules. However, he wouldn’t switch
off the force field weather dome or allow the injured to be transferred to
hospitals in other cities. Colwyn’s own hospitals and clinics, already swamped
by earlier injuries from clashes between citizens and paramilitaries, were left
to cope by themselves.
    Casualty figures were difficult to compile, but the unisphere reporters
on the ground were estimating close to a hundred fifty bodyloss victims.
Injuries were easily over a thousand, probably two with varying degrees of
seriousness.
    Oscar had directly added two people to the bodyloss count. He wasn’t sure
about collateral damage, but it wasn’t going to be small, either; no one in
that fight had held back. On one level he was quietly horrified at his own
ruthlessness when he’d protected Araminta from the agents converging on her.
He’d allowed the combat programs to dominate his responses. Yet his own
instincts had contributed, adding a ferociousness to the fight that had
exploited every mistake his opponents had made. And his biononics were top of
the range, producing energy currents formatted by the best weapons-grade
programs the Knights Guardian had designed. It