Laril’s taxi capsule dropped onto a public landing pad in the shade of the trees. He immediately examined the area with his biononic field scan function. It was one of the functions he was adept at, and he’d refined the parameters during the taxi flight. When he stepped out, the biononics were already providing him with a low-level force field. He wore a blue-black toga suit with a strong surface shimmer, so there was no visual sign of his protection. The scan function was linked directly to the force field control, so if he detected any kind of threat or unknown activity, the force field would instantaneously switch to its strongest level. It was a smart procedure that, along with his other preparations, provided him with a lot of confidence.
He walked across the lip to the top seating tier. His u-shadow was maintaining secure links to the emergency taxis and the coliseum’s civic sensor net, assuring him that everything was running smoothly. As agreed with Asom, he was the first to arrive. There were no nasty surprises waiting for him.
A steep glidepath took him down the inner slope to the arena field. He kept looking around the huge concrete crater for any sign of movement. Apart from a few bots working their way slowly along the seating rows, there was nothing.
Once he reached the bottom, he expanded his field scan function again. No anomalies and no unusual chunks of technology within five hundred meters. It looked like Asom was obeying his ground rules. Laril smiled in satisfaction; things were going to be just fine.
A slightly odd motion on the opposite side of the field caught his eye. Someone was walking out of the cavernous performers’ tunnel. She was naked, not that such a state was in any way erotic, not for her. Her body was like a skeleton clad in a toga-suit haze. She walked purposefully over the grass toward him; two long ribbons of scarlet fabric wove sinuously in her wake.
“Asom?” Laril asked uncertainly. Suddenly this whole meeting seemed like a bad idea. It got worse. His connection to the unisphere dropped out without warning, which was theoretically impossible. Laril’s force field snapped up to its highest rating. He took a couple of shaky paces backward before turning to run. Files in his storage lacuna were already displaying escape routes to the emergency taxis he’d mapped out earlier. It was fifteen paces to a service hatch, which led to a maze of utility tunnels. The skeletal woman-thing would never be able to track him in there.
Three men appeared in the seating tiers ahead of him; they just shimmered into existence as their one-piece suits discarded their stealth camouflage effect.
Laril froze. “Ozziecrapit,” he groaned. His field scan showed that each of them was enriched with sophisticated weapons. Their force fields were a lot stronger than his. They advanced toward him.
His exovision displays abruptly spiked with incomprehensible quantum fluctuations. He didn’t even have time to open his mouth to scream before the whole universe turned black.
Arranging an entrapment had never been so easy. Valean was almost ashamed by the simplicity. Even before she landed at Darklake City, Accelerator agents had secreted subversion software into the Bayview Tower net. Incredibly, Laril used his own apartment’s node to access the unisphere. She wondered if all his calls to various old colleagues were some kind of subtle misdirection. Surely nobody was so inept. But it appeared to be real. He genuinely thought he was being smart.
So she replied personally to his final call, assuming the Ondra identity. Again, the suggestion of the coliseum as a meeting point was a shocking failure of basic procedure. Its thick walls provided a perfect screen from standard civic and police scrutiny. The Accelerator team members were laughing when they found his “escape” taxis parked suspiciously close to utility tunnel exits. And as for the antiquated monitor software he’d loaded into the coliseum’s network …
Valean waited in the darkness of the performers’ tunnel as he slid down the glidepath. His field function scan probed around, its rudimentary capability finally confirming how woefully naive he was. Her own biononics deflected it easily. As soon as three of her team were in place behind him, she walked out into the morning sunlight. Laril seemed so shocked, he didn’t even attempt any hostile activity. Lucky for him, she thought impassively.
The team closed in smoothly. Then Valean’s field scan showed her a sudden change manifesting in the quantum fields. Her integral force field hardened. Weapons enrichments powered up.
Laril vanished.
“What the fuck!” Digby exclaimed.
The Columbia505 was hanging two hundred kilometers above Darklake City to monitor the whole Jachal Coliseum affair. Digby’s u-shadow had kept him updated on the software shenanigans in the Oaktier cybersphere, how Valean had run electronic rings around poor old Laril. Given the nature of the people he had to watch during his professional career, Digby normally felt no sympathy for any of them. Laril, however, was in a class of his own when it came to ineptitude. Sympathy didn’t quite apply, but he was certainly starting to feel a degree of pity for the fool who’d been dragged into an event of which he had no true understanding.
Digby watched in growing disbelief as Laril’s taxi landed on the lip of the coliseum. The man had absolutely no idea what he was walking into. The Columbia505’s sensors could see the Accelerator agents from two hundred kilometers’ altitude. Yet Laril’s own field function scan was so elementary that he couldn’t spot them from two hundred meters.
Letting out a groan, Digby brought up the starship’s targeting systems. No doubt about it, he was going to have to intervene. Paula was absolutely right: Valean could not be allowed to snatch Laril. Precision neutron lasers locked on to Valean and her team.
He still wasn’t sure if he should take the Columbia505 down to retrieve Laril afterward or simply remove Valean’s subversive software from his “escape” taxis and steer them to a rendezvous. He was inclined to pick Laril up himself; the man was a disaster area and shouldn’t be allowed to wander around the Commonwealth by himself, not with his connection to Araminta.
Valean emerged from the tunnel and walked toward a startled Laril. Three of the eight Accelerator agents discarded their stealth. Digby designated the fire sequence.
Strange symbols shot up into his exovision. It was the last thing he’d expected. A T-sphere enveloped Darklake City.
Laril teleported out of Jachal Coliseum.
The T-sphere withdrew instantaneously.
Digby reviewed every sensor input he could think of. Valean and her team appeared equally surprised by Laril’s magic disappearing act, launching a barrage of questors into the city net. To Digby there was something even more disturbing than their reaction: The T-sphere hadn’t registered in any Oaktier security network.
That would take a level of ability that went way beyond a team of faction agents.
He called Paula. “We have a problem.”
“A T-sphere?” she said once he’d finished explaining. “That’s unusual. There’s no known project on Oaktier using a T-sphere, so that implies it’s covert. And given that no official sensor could detect it, I’d say it was also embedded. Interesting.”
“The Columbia505’s sensors gave it a diameter of twenty-three kilometers.”
“Where’s the exact center?”
“Way ahead of you.” Visual sensor images of Darklake City flashed up in Digby’s exovision. They focused on the Olika district, one of the original exclusive areas bordering the lakeshore; its big houses sat in lavish grounds, a mishmash of styles representing the centuries over which they’d been added to and modified. In the middle of the district was a long road running parallel to the shore. The center of the image expanded, zooming in on a lavender-colored drycoral bungalow wrapped around a small swimming pool. Probably the smallest house in the whole district.
“Oh, my God,” Paula said.
“That’s the center,” Digby said. “1800 Briggins. Registered to a Paul Cramley. Actually, he’s lived there for … oh. That can’t be right.”
“It is,” Paula told him.
“Do you think the T-spher
e generator is underneath the bungalow? I can run a deep scan.”
“Don’t bother.”
“But …”
“Laril is perfectly safe. Unfortunately, Araminta won’t be able to call him for advice now, not without paying the price to Paul’s ally.”
“Then you know this Cramley person? My u-shadow can’t find anything on file.”
“Of course not. Paul was busy wiping himself from official databases before Nigel and Ozzie opened their first wormhole to Mars.”
“Really?”
“Just keep watching Valean.”
“Is that it?”
“For the moment. I’ll try and talk to Paul.”
Digby knew better than to ask.
Laril knew the light and air had changed somehow. He wasn’t standing in the sunlight of the coliseum, and the air he gulped down was perfectly conditioned. It was also quiet. He risked opening his eyes.
Of all the possible fates, he wasn’t prepared for the perfectly ordinary, if somewhat old-fashioned, lounge he was in. The lighting globes were off, making it appear gloomy. Its only illumination came from sunlight leaking through the translucent gray curtains pulled across tall arching windows. He could just make out some courtyard with a circular swimming pool on the other side of the glass. The floor was dark wood planks, their grain almost lost with age and polish. Walls were raw drycoral, lined with shelves.
There were some chic silver globe chairs floating a few centimeters above the floorboards. A man was sitting on one of them, its surface molded around him as if it were particularly elastic mercury. His youthful features gave him a handsome appearance, especially with thick dark hair cut longer than the current style. Instinct warned Laril he was old, very old. This wasn’t someone he could bullshit like his ex-business partners and girlfriends. He didn’t even risk using his field function scan. No way of telling how the man would react.
“Uh.” He cleared his throat as his heart calmed a little. “Where am I?”
“My home.”
“I don’t … uh, thank you for getting me out of there. Are you Asom?”
“No. There’s no such person. You were being played by the Accelerators.”
“They know about me?”
The man raised an eyebrow contemptuously.
“Sorry,” Laril said. “So who are you?”
“Paul Cramley.”
“And am I in even deeper shit now?”
“Not at all.” Paul grinned. “But you’re not free to go, either. That’s for your own good, by the way; it’s not a threat.”
“Right. Who else knew about me?”
“Well, I did. And it looks like the stealthed ultradrive starship in orbit does. So along with Valean and her team, that makes three of us. I daresay more are on their way.”
“Oh, Ozzie.” Laril’s shoulders sagged from the pressure of dismay. “My software isn’t as good as I thought, is it?”
“In my experience, I’ve never seen worse. And trust me, that’s a lot of experience. But then I don’t think you realize exactly what you’re dealing with.”
“Okay, so who are you? What’s your interest?”
“You should be about to find out. I’m guessing that an old acquaintance is going to call any minute now. And when you’re as old as me, your guesses are certainties.”
“If you’re old and you’re not in ANA, you’re probably not a faction agent.”
“Glad to see you have some gray matter, after all. Ah, here we go.”
A portal projected an image of a woman into the lounge. Laril groaned. He didn’t need any identification program to recognize Paula Myo.
“Paula,” Paul said in a happy voice. “Long time.”
“This crisis seems to be bringing the golden oldies out to play in droves.”
“Is that resentment I hear?”
“Just an observation. Laril, are you all right?”
He shrugged. “I suppose, yeah.”
“Don’t ever do anything as stupid as that again.”
Laril scowled at the investigator’s image.
“Thanks for exiting him,” Paula said. “My own people would have been noisy.”
“Not a problem.”
“It won’t take Valean long to determine your location. She’ll visit.”
“She’s not as stupid as Laril, surely.”
“No,” Paula agreed as Laril bridled silently. “But she has a mission, and Ilanthe won’t give her a choice.”
“Poor her.”
“Quite. Give me its access code, please.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Paul. We don’t have the time.”
Paul gave her projected image a martyred look. “Connecting you directly.”
Paula’s image winked off.
“Who’s she talking to?” Laril asked.
“Next best thing now that ANA’s unavailable,” Paul said, sounding indifferent.
“So … I’m sorry, I still don’t get who you are.”
“Just a bloke who has been around for a long while. That gives me a certain perspective on life. I know my own mind, and I don’t like what the Accelerators are doing. Which is why I helped you out.”
One of the silver globes floated over to Laril, who sat down gingerly. Once the surface had bowed around him, it was actually rather comfortable. “So how old are you?”
“Put it this way: When I grew up, no one had traveled farther than the moon. And half the planet thought that was a hoax. Dickheads.”
“The moon? Earth’s moon?”
“Yeah. There’s only one: the moon.”
“Great Ozzie, that makes you over a thousand.”
“Thousand and a half.”
“So why haven’t you migrated inward?”
“You speak like that’s inevitable. Not everyone accepts that biononics and downloading into ANA is the path forward. There are still a few of us independents left. Admittedly, we do tend to be quite old. And stubborn.”
“So what are you trying to achieve?”
“Self-sufficiency. Liberty. Individualism. Neutrality. That kind of thing.”
“But doesn’t Higher culture give …” Laril trailed off as Paul raised his eyebrow again.
“And you were acting on which committee’s authority this morning?” Paul asked mildly.
“Okay. I’m having trouble accepting Higher life. I just don’t see what else there is.”
“Get your biononics. Work out how to use them properly—I mean that in your case. Get yourself a stash of EMAs and strike out for whatever you want.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Actually it’s a bitch. And I still haven’t got a clue how I’m going to finish up. Postphysical, presumably. But when I do, it’ll be on my terms, not something imposed on me.”
“You know, that’s the way I like to think.”
“I’m flattered. Ah, looks like Valean has found us.”
Laril gave the windows an anxious look. There was the unmistakable high-pitched whistling of a capsule descending fast outside. When he squinted through the windows looking out across the long garden, he saw two chrome-yellow ovoids come to a halt above the freshly mown grass. The skeletal woman stepped out of the first. Laril’s heart started to speed up at the sight of her. Those strange carmine streamers swam along behind her as she advanced on the bungalow. Six weapons-enriched agents followed her, various hardware units emerging from their skin to poke aggressive nozzles at the bungalow.
“Do we need to, uh, maybe get to safety?” Laril stammered. His biononics reported that a sophisticated field scan was sweeping through the bungalow. He brought his integral force field up to full strength.
Paul sat even farther back in his silver chair, putting his hands behind his head to regard the approaching Accelerator team nonchalantly. “You can’t get anywhere safer in the Commonwealth.”
“Oh, shit,” Laril moaned. He desperately wanted to ask: How safe, really? If Paul had r
eally good defenses, why hadn’t he shot the capsules out of the sky or teleported out or called up his own team of enriched bodyguards? Just … do something!
Valean walked up to a window. She reached out and touched it with her index finger. The window turned to liquid and splashed down into the lounge, running across the floorboards.
Laril sat up straight, his back rigid as fear locked his muscles. Valean stepped through the open archway, gently pushing the gauzy curtains apart. Her glowing pink eyes searched around the room.
“Paul Cramley, I believe,” she said with a half smile.
“Correct,” Paul said. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave now. Laril is my guest.”
“He must come with me.”
“No.”
Laril’s exovision showed him those weird quantum spikes again. A pale green phosphorescent glow enveloped Valean and her team.
“I’m afraid your T-sphere won’t work,” she said. “We’re counter-programmed.”
Paul cocked his head to one side, long hair flopping down his cheek. “Really? How about I use irony instead?”
Valean opened her mouth to speak. Then she frowned. Her arms moved. Fast. They became a blur, her emerald aurora brightening in the wake of the motion, leaving a broad photonic contrail through the air. Then she turned, which was also incredibly fast. Laril had to close his eyes as the haze around her grew dazzling. His biononics threw up retinal filters, allowing him to glance at the Accelerator team again. They’d turned into cocoons of brilliant lime green. He could just discern outlines of their bodies thrashing about inside each tiny illuminated prison, moving hundreds of times faster than normal. Fists were raised to hammer at the border, striking it at incredible speed and frequency. It was as if they’d turned to solid smudges of light. Valean’s red streamers swirled about in agitation as the color drained out of them. They turned black, then stiffened and began to crumble into small flakes that drifted down like a drizzle of ash.
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 169
