Chapter 23

           Theservicecartwascrying.Thebetaphenethylaminegaveitavoice.Itwouldn’tstop.Notinthecrowdedgallery,thelongcorridors,notasitpassedtheblackglassentrancetotheT-Acrypt,thevaultswherethecoldhadseepedsograduallyintooldAshpool’sdreams.

           ThetransitwasanextendedrushforCase,themovementofthecartindistinguishablefromtheinsanemomentumoftheoverdose.Whenthecartdied,atlast,somethingbeneaththeseatgivingupwithashowerofwhitesparks,thecryingstopped.

           Thethingcoastedtoastopthreemetersfromthestartof3Jane’spiratecave.

           `Howfar,mon?’Maelcumhelpedhimfromthesputteringcartasanintegralextinguisherexplodedinthething’senginecompartment,goutsofyellowpowdersquirtingfromlouversandservicepoints.TheBrauntumbledfromthebackoftheseatandhobbledoffacrosstheimitationsand,draggingoneuselesslimbbehindit.`Youmus’walk,mon.’Maelcumtookthedeckandconstruct,slingingtheshockcordsoverhisshoulder.

           ThetrodesrattledaroundCase’sneckashefollowedtheZionite.Riviera’sholoswaitedforthem,thetorturescenesandthecannibalchildren.Mollyhadbrokenthetriptych.Maelcumignoredthem.

           `Easy,’Casesaid,forcinghimselftocatchupwiththestridingfigure.`Gottadothisright.’

           Maelcumhalted,turned,gloweringathim,theRemingtoninhishands.