by Mark Henwick
He makes a swirling motion with a finger pointing down at the ground. “Drill?”
We nod.
“Drill deep, get much energy, geo-thermal, have good life. But hard. Long way down. Drill break. Drill much cost. No money. No drill.”
And so Syndacia is the result of a colony ship with seriously degrading performance, followed by a lack of technical capability to harness the resources or combat the weather and capped off by lack of finances to build those capabilities.
But Ruslan’s not finished.
“Government plan. Set up mercenary company. Get money, make planet good maybe.”
“And the mercenaries get hired out but somehow the money is never enough to buy new drills or fix the ship?” Kat says, biting her lip.
“Da,” he replies simply.
“What about the others?” Kat asks. “The rest of the Syndacians. Would they stay here?”
He’s slow in answering. He looks away, his face bleak. “We fight here. People not like maybe.”
My cousin looks as if she wants to disagree with that, but Ruslan is right. Even if most people on Newyan probably don’t know the Syndacians are here at the moment, she knows my plans for changing the media, which will ensure everyone knows, including what they did while they were here.
Of course, there’s also the small problem of overturning the Hajnal-controlled government before any of this is more than a talking point.
We’ve run out of time for talking. Talan gets to her feet with a groan.
“Come on,” she says. “We’re finished with the cold, wet river. Time to go exploring the cold, wet, dark tunnels.”
Chapter 58
Sánchez
He’s standing in front of the window in his office at the Bureau of Justice.
The gauze curtains are open. People from Security keep telling him it’s not safe, that there might be an assassin out there, but he can’t see the people far below with the curtain in the way.
The view gives him a sense of vertigo, of falling. A sensation exactly like matters of state in Iruña at the moment.
His stomach is already upset and his heart seems to be permanently racing. A little vertigo is neither here nor there.
Astonishingly, he is still Ministro of both Justice and Defense, as proved when the call he’s been waiting for is connected to his pad. It’s Captain Tiziana, commander of the naval destroyer Biháriz, and until about ten minutes ago, a ‘guest’ of the Bureau of Security in their hellish basement.
“Ministro Sánchez?”
Tiziana’s voice is rough and immensely wary. It’s hardly surprising that she’s expecting this is some kind of interrogation trick.
He manages to keep his voice even and businesslike. “Captain. You are on the coach? All of you?”
“Yes, sir. All seventeen of us on the list that has been given to me. I... I wasn’t aware of some of them.”
“There’s no way you could keep track of Defense personnel being mistakenly arrested by the Bureau of Security,” he says, and slows, wondering how to put his next question. “Captain, are you well enough to assume control of the Biháriz again?”
“I am, sir.” Again, so wary as to be disbelieving.
“Good. The coach will deposit you at the space elevator very shortly. I have called ahead and alerted them. You are to be sent up as a priority group immediately you arrive. One group, not split up. A shuttle from your ship will then collect you.” He pauses. “I am aware these people are not all from your ship, and indeed some of them have no space experience. Nevertheless you will accommodate them. If there are some among you who require medical attention, that will be provided on the ship, by the ship’s doctor. Am I clear so far?”
“Yes, sir.” More uncertain than wary, now.
“I regard the mistaken interference with Defense personnel as a serious matter,” Sánchez says, speaking carefully. “The diversion from your duties has led to problems and we are stretched beyond capacity. I have therefore issued orders that there is to be no transfer of Defense personnel to any facility or holding place other than Defense’s own without my authorization. All planet-based leave is cancelled until further notice.”
“Your personal authorization, or the authorization of the Ministro of Defense, sir?”
Good. She’s thinking about this: he may not be the Ministro very much longer.
“As always, you will comply with all legitimate orders in accordance with the Articles of Naval Service, your oath, and your conscience.”
That is no more than a summary of what every cadet is told before the oath.
“I believe you should be arriving at the space elevator now, Captain.” He ends the call before she can respond.
His conversations are undoubtedly being recorded, but he has said and done nothing that exceeds his authority or is actually directed against the government. Or the movement.
He’s done what he can, and it makes him feel better, but actually it’s nothing really.
The navy takes orders from the government. Although both destroyer captains, Tiziana on Biháriz and Lim on Santoña, have their families living on the Defense-controlled orbital facilities, others of their crew will have families on Newyan. It’s not as if he could order them to turn against the government, or that they would consider it.
It’s a mess. How did it get like this?
And why did Berges authorize the release of the prisoners?
He’d made the demand out of a sense that he should be doing it. There were no grounds to arrest Tiziana, or her XO. Indeed, none of the Defense personnel should have been arrested by Security. Such behavior is a sign that Berges’ paranoia is going further out of control.
But she has had the backing of Loiola and Eneko.
There will be a reaction to what he’s done, but he has to make them understand. They’ve stopped talking about their principles, about the reasons they all shared for starting the movement and joining up with the Hajnal. And without those principles, what are they doing?
He has to get through to Loiola or Eneko. Berges is beyond reasoning with—her mental instability seems to be growing daily. It makes her unpredictable—and dangerous.
What if she authorized the release just to see what he’d do? To test his loyalty? What if the group is being re-arrested right now at the space elevator?
“Ministro?”
He’d missed the gentle knock on the door. He turns to see the subsecretario.
“I know you wanted some time,” the man says. “But there’s a call from Colonel Karis. He won’t speak to me.”
Karis. The Syndacian commander. Another call that Sánchez has been expecting this morning.
“Put him through.”
Karis’ voice is echoing down the line. The colonel is at a command base which he set up at the Orbaiz railway station, close to where the hunt is going on, but outside the area affected by the ash cloud. Since the loss of the communications satellite for that area, the redirecting of calls through other satellites and the InfoHub has been improving, but slowly.
“Say again,” Sánchez requests.
“The cloud is going... cannot risk helicopters... search,” Karis says. “Already three failures... needed airlift by skimmer. Skimmer’s not equipped... area to search increases...” The line hisses out completely, then returns. “... possible fugitives are already...”
Sánchez can fill in the blanks. The Syndacians are getting nowhere. The helicopters can’t fly through the cloud resulting from the Biháriz’s bombardment. They can’t fly above it and still use their scanners, and the skimmers don’t have the right kind of ground-scanning capabilities. The mercenaries haven’t been able to find the Aguirres, and won’t, unless they get lucky.
He’s also expecting—dreading—the next item Karis turns to.
“... not been able… contact HQ,” the colonel says, before fading in another storm of static. “... return Cabezón... investigate... ”
The HQ is back at the airfield ne
xt to Cabezón. Cabezón, where the Aguirres have just been.
Sánchez’s heart misses a beat. A revolt in the high sierras? Or just bad communications?
The line fades into white noise.
“Hello? Hello?”
His aide opens the door. “Sir, Ministro Berges is in the elevator. You wanted to be warned of her arrival. Her guards have been stopped downstairs as per your orders.”
“Thank you,” he says. “Leave the door open.”
Holding her guards is not going to improve her temper, but in fact, he’s just following her own recommended Security protocols.
A minute later, she’s through the door like an agitated eel, closing it behind her. Her eyes are too large in her pale face, her pupils dilated. He wonders if she’s started using drugs to keep alert.
“We are under attack, Sánchez,” she says.
Not the first sentence he expected from her.
“We seem to be, Ministro Berges. Please, take a seat. Some refreshment?”
She waves it aside.
“My electronic communications have been hacked! Yours too.”
Ah. She didn’t authorize that release. They really have been busy, the Xian, meddling with every communication.
“You mean regarding the Defense personnel?” he asks.
“Yes! What have you done with them?”
“I sent them up to the Biháriz. It will keep them out of the way, and besides, there wasn’t really any justification for incarcerating them.” Before she can snap back at him, he adds, “We are under attack in other ways as well, I believe.”
“What? How?”
“Colonel Karis believes that the Syndacian HQ at Cabezón is either under attack or has already fallen.”
“That’s why the Aguirres went there. They must have been preparing for this all along. Months, years in preparation.” Her face distorts. “Still, there is no way the Aguirres could achieve this alone. Xian has to be behind all this. I knew it. I knew it. Xian!”
Sánchez doesn’t reply that she knew no such thing, according to his memory. Berges will believe whatever underpins her latest paranoia.
“They want an uprising. They want to snatch Newyan from the people, give it back to the Founding Families.” She is silent for a while, blinking. “Because there are only a dozen of the families left. That’s why Xian has done this! Control those dozen families through their greed and Xian would have control over the whole planet. But they can’t! The planet belongs to the people, and we will not let it go.”
It being dangerous to speak, Sánchez does not. The scenario she’s describing seems uncomfortably like the way the movement, spurred on by the Hajnal, has operated, using key recruitments in the Bureaux to achieve control over the planet.
She’s staring into the distance, her hands flexing as if she’s about to do some gymnastics, before snapping her gaze back to him. “What are you doing about the revolt in Cabezón?”
“The Syndacians are going back. They’re short of helicopters, so it’ll take them a day to shuttle their forces back and retake the airfield.”
“Will they succeed? Quickly?”
Sánchez shudders. He knows, from the look on her face, that she’s considering using the Biháriz plasma cannons again. She enjoyed the destruction.
“The rebels are untrained rabble,” he says hurriedly. “And recovering supplies and munitions from the airfield would be advantageous. Also, the airfield is too close to Cabezón itself for any alternatives to be viable.”
He’s not entirely sure Captain Tiziana would obey a command to obliterate part of Cabezón, and Berges trying to order her to do so could precipitate a genuine revolt. He has to keep a lid on the situation while he works out a way to repair it. He won’t be able to if the navy appears to be in mutiny.
“Very well. Deploy the skimmer squadron to hunt down Aguirre instead,” she says.
“The skimmers are already there. They can fly through the ash cloud, but the specifications of their scanning equipment are different. Very poor resolution at that size. They can’t distinguish between a human and an otter, for instance.”
Berges blinks and frowns. “So what? Kill everything that moves on the river. Problem solved.” She begins to pace up and down. “I’ll keep the security on the gates. They’ll arrest any of that party that survives when they try to get into the city.”
She turns suddenly. “What to do about the Xian delegation? They’re attacking us through our own communications!” Without waiting for an answer, she whips out her pad and makes a call.
“López, send a squad to the municipal sub-station in Block 2D. Take a specialist with electrical installation knowledge. Ensure the power to the Xian delegation building is isolated and cut. Leave the squad there on guard to make sure it stays that way. Also, copy to all security units protecting the city: no Xian delegation cars are allowed to exit or enter the city until further notice. Tell the delegates it’s for their own safety if they ask.”
She ends the call as quickly, and turns to him.
“That will put an end to their electronic interference and prevent them getting Aguirre inside the city.”
“They will complain to the Enquiry about—”
“A technical fault. We’re doing everything we can. Come, Ministro Sánchez. The Xian can hardly deny us the relief convoy because our electrical network fails. Certainly not with our Enquiry looking on. We just need to get through the next few days. By then, Taha and Ivakin will be able to make the proposal to Earth for us to join the Inner Worlds. Everything will be easier after that.”
Sánchez nods because she expects it.
Despite the investment in the Commissioners’ private bank accounts, it is not ‘our’ Enquiry, he thinks. Far from it.
She’s insane if she believes an application to join the Inner Worlds will succeed now. No amount of bribery of the Commissioners, even with all the Hajnal planets contributing, is going to be able to paper over the situation in Newyan. But then, she is insane.
He’s been grappling with a decision this morning, and listening to her stream of delusion has finally precipitated it. He can’t continue like this. With enormous relief, he realizes he’s committed to a different outcome now: get the Hajnal’s attention elsewhere, get them to disengage and let Newyan solve its own problems. The Hajnal, with their multi-planet views, are a distraction to his people’s battle for equality, to the movement he first joined.
How to achieve that? Expose the Hajnal while retaining the movement on Newyan?
“Do you know where Yarritu is?” Berges’ abrupt question startles him out of his thoughts.
“No.” What has Yarritu done to attract Berges’ attention?
“He’s Ministro of Food and Agriculture. It’s an important position. I need to know where he is all the time.”
“There’s no food being produced at the moment, and all the supplies are distributed. There’s not a great deal for him to do,” he points out.
“There’s the issue of how we control the supply of relief food.”
“I got the impression that the Xian have their own ideas about that.”
She laughs. “We’ll see whether those ideas are voiced so firmly when they’re staring at the barrels of the Santoña’s plasma cannons.”
“Ministro Berges—” He hesitates. “You’re not suggesting I order—”
“Don’t be stupid; it won’t come to that, Sánchez. They’ll back down. And when they do, Yarritu will have a responsibility. He should be at his Bureau, or contactable by them. You’re here, aren’t you? In the Bureau of Justice, where you should be.”
“I don’t think he’s guilty of anything, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says cautiously.
“Everyone is guilty, Ministro. Everyone.”
With that chilling assertion, she shakes her head and walks back out, apparently too distracted to question whether his message demanding the release of Defense personnel was really hacked, or why his guards refused to l
et her guards come upstairs, or... any of the myriad things she could pick on to bring him down. Everyone is guilty.
And yes, Yarritu isn’t in his office at the Bureau of Food and Agriculture, because there is no food left. But the man has been acting strangely.
The subsecretario is at his door again, clearing his throat. “You asked to be kept informed, sir. We no longer have communications with the city of Lourdios.”
“Move the Biháriz to orbit above the city and see if they can communicate with anyone,” he says. “What about Sainte Engrâce?”
“Continued unrest, but the police say it’s under control. A report will be on your desk within an hour.”
Sánchez nods his thanks, and the man leaves.
Will the exposure of the Hajnal and the arrival of the relief supplies be enough to calm the situation? Who takes control when Eneko is deposed? How can I use what I can’t prevent?
And this evidence he now believes Delegate Hwa will present to him tomorrow, in front of the Enquiry recorders...
His pad is still in his hand. He flicks back through the document sent to him by his technical manager earlier. There is nothing there he didn’t pick up the first time he read through it.
He knows now what the Aguirre woman has, and how she intends to use it against them. Before the movement was organized enough to prevent it, her grandfather used his status to gain access to the Bureau of Justice.
There are ways he can prevent that evidence being used, of course.
But is there any other way of disengaging from the Hajnal?
It’s strange, but he bears the Aguirre woman herself no animosity. What was done to her family was appalling, but justifiable for the greater good. And clearly, she must go as well. But how to use her evidence to focus only on the Hajnal? How to keep the progress they’ve made for equality?
He turns back to his window, places his hands behind his back and stares out at the view, again getting the sense that everything is falling, accelerating down.
Far beneath, the people of Iruña walk across the square. He rubs his face. Long hours and stress must have affected his vision; he can’t see his people as clearly as he once could.
