Chapter 8

The church-bell in its high steeple tolled above and through the station. The sound went out through the prism, the deep toll ringing through the dark, bouncing off the panes, and reflecting back towards the station.  The town was awake. Shouts came from the apartment blocks and the underflat as people were awoken from their sleep. When the ringing had faded another toll sounded, this one louder than the first. Arran put his hands over his ears. ‘Gods,’ he said.  Holly looked towards the church. It was on the other side of the ark, well opposite the freight yards and their industrial side of the flats. ‘There’s trouble over yonder,’ she said.  ‘I’d say their acolyte just died,’ Arran said, remembering the poor, pained young man he’d seen struck by his mistake decoupling, or whatever the other acolyte had said. ‘Another boy.’  The ringing faded and once more the bell tolled, this louder still than the other two that came before it.  Holly shivered. ‘It sounds like a warning.’  ‘I’ll go check that out first, I suppose,’ he said. ‘I was last attending officer.’ Like he needed an excuse to go talk to someone.  Holly agreed. ‘We’ll take the short-cut.’ So she was coming too. Maybe Arran would be better off leaving this to the deputy. It wasn’t an official duty. Curiosity got the better of him.  ‘Short-cut?’ Arran said.  Holly caught Arran’s arm. ‘This way,’ she said, taking them out of the freight yards. They came to a street, one of the ark’s many starmoulded alleyways that interspersed the buildings on each side of the ark’s flat faces. Their arcing light columns, set every few metres, sheltered the smooth paths that linked all the ark’s different sectors. Arran knew where she was going.  Below them, deeper through the layers of electrogravitational infrastructure and null-ballast, every pocket of free space was occupied, in some form or another, by residence or enterprise. Its narrows were accessible in unexpected places all across the station, even as far out as the struts.  A long staircase that went down through it. The walls were tall and ridged, bonded as one continuous chunk. Blast doors were situated on small platforms every few metres down the stairs. One of the doorways was open, and a resident stood out on the stoop, looking up as though the answers were above him. The church was in the other direction, downwards.  ‘What was that?’ he asked the peacekeeper who approached him on the stairs.  ‘Return home, it’s just the church,’ Arran said, passing.  During the day traffic often moved along the stairs but they were empty because they led to the apartment block and nobody was in the yard this late. Arran could see where the stairs emerged at the bottom. The night sky was visible down there.  There was some good eating behind some of these hatches. Whoever on the station that wasn’t actively maintaining it, or performing a trade, was feeding it. During the day a few of these hatches would open into stalls that sold food to those headed off to the yard and the work-houses. Some of the smells still lingered as Arran and Holly went down. Familiar aromatic produce like black garlics and onions, and meats, and exotic ingredients from the vast cornucopia of explored worlds.  Their descent kicked up a drift of dry leaves as they alighted from platform to platform, going lightly and easily as the staircase enclosed overhead. Gravity turned them in the middle and then they were rising up the staircase.  At the bottom, or the top, Arran spotted the church over in the distance. A small group of people were already gathered there. The doors were open and some were going inside.  ‘Late service,’ Holly said.  ‘Funeral?’  Holly shook her head. ‘Not this late in the evening.’  They approached. As they did they saw the Elder, Finlowe, standing on the steps with his arms raised in welcome. As they neared, the Elder saw Arran and held his hands aloft, now a protective, warning gesture. He ushered some of his followers inside, then turned to face the newcomers.  ‘Stop! This is an occasion for brothers and sisters of the church faith, I’m afraid. Only believers are welcome.’  One or two stationfolk slipped furtively inside. Some more were coming in from the town.  Arran and Holly looked at each other. Neither was a follower, but there had never been a problem before.  ‘What is going on, Finlowe?’ They stood at a distance from each other and spoke across the church plaza’s tiles. Their voices carried clearly. A breeze picked up.  Finlowe pointed at the sky. ‘It is just star-worshipper business, peacekeeper. Nothing to be concerned about.’  ‘How is the boy, your acolyte?’  ‘Our brother is dead, peacekeeper.’  Holly gasped. ‘How can this be?’  ‘His mind broke him first. His body followed. This is a sombre occasion, please, I ask you the leniency of your ill presence on this day.’ He meant Arran’s presence specifically.  ‘Though I am not human, I am still living. You’ve offended me, Elder.’  Elder Finlowe lowered his hands. ‘Then offence I have caused.’  At a sense of upcoming conflict Holly spoke. ‘Then allow me to enter and explain to me why you have woken the whole town.’  ‘I do nothing but summon my flock. I apologise for the disturbance.’ He gave a curt nod, as if that was an explanation.  Arran groaned. ‘Finlowe, please don’t do that again. If this is a funeral for the boy, please just tell us so.’ He started to walk forward, pushing the Elder to address him. The Elder paid more attention to the aide. Arran hated being spoken to like he was only a gengineered machine intelligence stuffed into a recycled human’s body. He was more than that.  Finlowe ushered another trio of followers into the church as he backed away from Arran. ‘Stop! Bring not your death here. I have seen it in your stars, Arran.’  Arran stopped. ‘Of course you did, it’s my job. This doesn’t make sense.’  The Elder stepped inside the doors, bare feet almost tripping his way through. It was as though the Elder was trying to escape Arran. Knowing he could push further, Arran kept on up the steps, with Holly a step behind.  ‘Please, Elder,’ she said.  ‘See reason,’ Arran said. ‘Explain to us what you’re doing tonight, why you’ve summoned everyone. Is something wrong?’  The Elder was panicked now. His earlier confidence was pierced through. He couldn’t wait to get away from Arran, who was only trying to assist, who still hadn’t forgotten the Elder holding onto his weapon, and who was waving at him with a charred stump for a hand. It’d be enough to unsettle anyone.  ‘Stay out of this church!’ He slammed the doors shut in Arran’s face. The heavy granite was cold. Arran turned around at the click of the lock. Electric humming sounded. It was protected.  ‘The Mayor should know about this,’ Holly said. ‘That’s very odd behaviour from Elder Finlowe.’  ‘He’s with Marlebone,’ Arran said. ‘I’ll go with you.’ He had his own business with the Mayor.