Hilldiggers

by Neal Asher

  ‘It is almost as if I contain a surfeit of words, and that if I can write them all out of my mind I will find a cold centre point of understanding,’ he said.

  ‘But these are not your words,’ the drone replied, dipping its muzzle towards the stack of book disks it had deposited on the floor.

  ‘Yes, but I need to translate them and understand the underlying meanings in order to get to my words.’

  ‘Could it be that the cold centre point you seek is that star you once described to Rhodane as lying at the centre of your mind – the source of your fits. Are you not trying to write your way back to your previous condition?’

  It had worried him at first how much Tigger knew about him, and he still felt uncomfortable with the idea that throughout his life this Polity drone had watched him and his siblings so closely. Tigger’s contention also bothered him, for he still did not really know his own mind, or purpose.

  ‘That is entirely possible, but I have to find out for myself,’ he replied. ‘Now, will you be able to connect me into the Sudorian net?’

  The tiger shrugged. ‘Certainly.’

  Considering how much he had learnt since then, Orduval turned away from the dried-out corpse and began making his way back towards his cave. His history of the colonization and the years leading up to the War, now published by the Ruberne Institute, had caused a media furore and questions to be asked in Parliament, and now there were those in the media prepared to pay a small fortune to anyone who could locate him. Tigger assured him that his netlink was untraceable with current Sudorian software, and that equally no one could trace him through the private account he had set up – that was until he withdrew any money from it. He did not need to.

  Orduval estimated that his take on the War with the Brumallians would be ready for the Institute sometime soon, but he was finding himself distracted by the news of, finally, open contact with the Polity. Tigger had informed him long before that this was going to happen, but the content of and reactions to the communications Parliament published fascinated him. He had been living a hermit existence here and so, disconnected from his world, the reality of Tigger and the Polity did not seem so real until now.

  Finally reaching his cave, Orduval saw the door standing open. For a moment he wondered if he had been discovered, and wondered too if he any longer considered that a problem. However, when he stepped into the cave he found Tigger waiting for him beside the desk.

  ‘You must finish this,’ said the drone.

  ‘I know I must – remember that surfeit of words?’

  ‘Yes, I remember . . . but it is important that you finish this soon and get it into the public domain.’

  ‘Why the urgency?’

  ‘You’ve been listening to the recordings and reading the transcripts of the communications between Parliament and the AI Geronamid?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Then you must understand that contact between you people and the Polity will not continue to remain limited to this . . . conversation?’

  ‘Yes, I see that.’

  ‘Publish your book, then . . . and perhaps you would like to include something from this.’ Tigger raised a paw holding a recording disk. He continued, ‘Already, much of what you have written throws an entirely new light on your old enemy, and the people of Sudoria are now utterly ready for that illumination. Opinion is changing fast, and people now indulge in painful speculation about culpability during the War. Some brave souls have even gone to Brumal to try and learn more about your neighbours. Your sister, Rhodane, is one of them.’

  ‘Yes, I found a news item about that.’ Orduval stepped forward and took the disk held out to him. ‘What is this?’

  ‘You could make it the culmination of your book. This disk contains the schematic of The Outstretched Hand.’

  ‘The first ship we sent to Bruml.’

  ‘Yes, it also contains information obtained from Brumal: recorded footage of the arrival of that ship and subsequent events there.’

  ‘I think you can tell me a little more?’

  ‘Look at the recordings, Orduval. To stretch a metaphor to breaking point: The Outstretched Hand contained a knife. It was a warship, and it did not approach Brumal with anything like friendship in mind.’

  Orduval felt gut-punched. He walked shakily over to the chair and sat down. He had suspected something to have been a little off about that first mission, but this?

  ‘Why . . . now?’ he asked.

  ‘Sudorians need to know their real history, and to lose the long-fostered idea that they fought and won a just war. They need to know because, in no less than a year and no more than five years, the Polity will be coming here.’

  Orduval inserted the disk, viewed it . . . and then began to finish off the book that would change so much but, as always with paper and words, never enough.

  – Retroact 17 Ends –

  Harald

  From the Admiral’s Haven, Harald gazed out across near space. Four hilldiggers and various support ships were visible, as was the arms factory station Carmel, bearing a grim resemblance to a metallic skull hanging there in the void. All but three of Fleet’s hilldiggers were assembled – two more of them were due any time now to join the eight already here. The remaining hilldigger, Captain Grange’s Dune Skater, had suffered a major engine fault way out in the system – where Harald had earlier assigned it – and, unless the crew could repair that fault, it would take the ship months to limp home. So unfortunate that, Grange being a great friend of Dravenik and so utterly hostile to Harald.

  Harald grimaced. Of course he should not become complacent. Three of the captains here, Ildris, Lambrack and Coleon, objected to his assumption of the Admiral-ship, and others remained undecided. If a total of six captains objected the whole issue would have to go through the laborious Fleet electoral process. Harald had no patience with that possibility. He turned from the window and headed for the stair.

  The Bridge now worked with smooth efficiency, despite the many replacements Harald had made. Ship’s Security had been totally under his control for some years now, and though its officers had found it necessary to break a few heads and confine some members of the crew, only three deaths had resulted since he took control.

  Jeon now sat before her own console at Firing Control, and he stopped beside her.

  ‘Still nothing?’ he enquired.

  ‘Nothing – we have a clear run.’

  Harald nodded, unclenched his teeth, then called up data from Carmel. He saw that six of the captains were now aboard, so it was time for him to get over there before they had a chance to talk to each other face to face for any length of time. He was sure of his power aboard Ironfist, and was now ready to confirm it over Fleet.

  From the Bridge, Harald headed down to one of the transport bays, where he picked up his retinue of Ship’s Security personnel. Aboard the shuttle, during the short journey over to Carmel, he considered his future actions.

  Long before recent events, groundsider opinion had been turning against Fleet, especially with Orbital Combine now offering the possibility of travel throughout the system. Immediately before those events, Parliament was debating about how to conduct an investigation into the missile attack on Inigis’s ship, and Combine was proving open and amenable. However, the murder of Admiral Carnasus and the destruction of Blatant by Defence Platform One would inevitably swing public opinion to Fleet’s side. It may have been twenty years since the end of the War, but paranoia still held sway on the planet Sudoria. The change in opinion would in turn influence those groundsider representatives who held seats in Parliament, and the majority of the vote. Harald fully expected to win the vote he had ordered Fleet representatives to call for in Parliament – and for control of the defence platforms to be handed over to Fleet. Of course, Orbital Combine would refuse to actually hand over control, which meant Harald could then do what needed to be done.

  The clonk of docking clamps snapped him out of his reverie. He unstrapped and pul
led himself through the nil-gee vessel towards the airlock, but allowed his guards to move out ahead of him and secure the immediate area. He clambered through the lock, and beyond it dropped to the wide gravity floor, where he eyed stacks of equipment and squads of station assault troops – probably awaiting their ride aboard Desert Wind. Then he turned and focused his attention on Station Supervisor Harnek, who awaited with a pale and worried expression.

  ‘There’s been a killing,’ said the man.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Captain Ildris was found dead in his quarters only minutes ago. Poison, we think.’

  Harald absorbed that and wondered just what to make of it. Ildris was one of those firmly set against him assuming the Admiralship, but Harald himself had not ordered the man killed. It struck him that there were those in Fleet who might be rather too enthusiastic in their support of him.

  ‘Have you any idea who did it?’ he asked, while tracking information himself via his headset.

  Harnek looked wary. ‘I was preparing to start an investigation, but thought it best to wait until you arrived. Perhaps you would prefer your own people to conduct it?’

  Harald felt himself tensing up again, and glanced down at his clenched right fist. He carefully unclenched it, breathed evenly and summoned calm. Of course Harnek wanted Harald to conduct any investigation – the man obviously thought Harald had ordered the murder of Captain Ildris.

  ‘Be assured, Harnek,’ he said tightly, ‘that I have every confidence in you and want no less than the truth to be revealed. Investigate this murder and be certain that if you find the culprit he will be punished.’

  Harnek looked doubtful. ‘As you will . . . Admiral.’

  ‘Now, the other Captains?’

  ‘They’re waiting in the Desert Lounge.’ Harnek gestured to the door to a nearby corridor and led the way.

  As they moved off, Harald immediately instructed Ironfist’s Security to get teams aboard Ildris’s ship, Resilience. He then checked on the whereabouts of Franorl, and discovered the Desert Wind was not due in for another day. He opened a link to that ship and was shortly speaking to Franorl himself.

  ‘No great loss,’ Franorl replied upon hearing the news.

  ‘It could turn others against us,’ Harald replied. ‘When you get in, I want you to check out the Captain-in-Waiting aboard Resilience.’

  ‘But of course.’

  Harald took the lift at the end of the corridor, which opened into the foyer of the Desert Lounge. He handed his headset and glove over to one of his guards, then forced a relaxed mien before entering through the foamed steel doors. Immediately general conversation subsided and a silence descended. Harald saw five Captains present along with some of their staff. Lambrack was one of them, but Coleon seemed to be missing. Harald headed over directly.

  ‘It’s good to meet you again, Lambrack.’ Harald fist-saluted over his side arm, then held out his hand.

  Lambrack returned the salute but ignored the hand. ‘Yes, it’s interesting to meet you again, Harald. You’ve risen in the world.’

  ‘Not entirely through choice,’ Harald replied, lowering his hand.

  ‘You know, I knew Lieutenant Alun well, and last I recollect he would have laid down his life for Admiral Carnasus,’ said the Captain.

  Harald was thoroughly aware that everyone else was listening intently.

  ‘That was the appearance he liked to give, certainly. But Alun was attracted to power and wealth. He would have done nothing so drastic, I suspect, had not the Admiral found out he was passing information to Combine.’

  ‘And no doubt you, being so able with computers, discovered this?’

  ‘As it happens, no. The Admiral found out through his own agents in Combine. I suspect Alun had been given orders concerning the Admiral that he was not following, and Combine wanted to push him into action. What I’ve since discovered is that Combine wanted the Admiral dealt with quietly – only Alun’s ineptitude led to the shooting.’

  ‘You have proof of this?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Quietly . . . like poison. Perhaps a potion similar to the one that made Ildris tear out his fingernails against the floor of his quarters?’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ enquired Harald. ‘That I would know?’

  Conversation had risen to a mutter, but it was now abruptly stilled.

  ‘Far be it for me to suggest such a thing.’

  Harald stared at him for a long moment, until the man started to look edgy, then said, ‘I’ve had enough of such innuendo. If you have accusations to make, then make them. You can present your evidence, and a quorum can decide on it, and then we can move on.’ Harald paused, still unblinking. ‘Do you have evidence?’

  ‘I have none . . . yet.’ Lambrack began to turn away.

  ‘Do not turn your back on me,’ said Harald quietly.

  ‘Believe me, that’s not something I would ever feel comfortable doing.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Harald. ‘Thank you, Lambrack – you have made your position clear. And should Fleet come under the control of Orbital Combine, and they replace you with one of their own lackeys, I hope you will still be happy with that position.’ He turned away.

  ‘And now you turn your back on me.’

  ‘I am prepared to trust honourable men, even if they refuse to trust me.’

  Lambrack found no reply to that.

  Harald moved on through the crowd, working those in it like any groundsider politician. Two more Captains arrived and upon speaking to them he realized that, despite Lambrack’s hostility, there would be no vote concerning his assumption of the Admiralship. He learnt in passing that, after the murder of Ildris, Coleon had returned to his hilldigger and taken it away from the station. He had run, and it did not seem likely he would be coming back any time soon. They were all scared, it seemed, scared of Harald, and only Lambrack possessed the nerve to show he resented feeling that way.

  ‘It would appear that there is not sufficient objection to my assumption of overall Fleet command,’ he said later, addressing them all. ‘So let me give you a summation of the situation: it would appear there are those in Orbital Combine who feel ready to displace Fleet. They first attempted to sway public opinion against us by conniving with the Brumallians in the assassination of the Polity Consul Assessor, perhaps rightly expecting the groundsiders to blame us for this. They then beheaded us by murdering Admiral Carnasus, and around Sudoria have made their first direct moves against us. I suspect the destruction of the Blatant was also intended to remove another possible leader for Fleet. In such a situation Fleet definitely needs firm leadership.’ Harald paused and gazed at them all in turn, before continuing:

  ‘My qualifications took me to the position of Captain-in-Waiting on Ironfist – the highest rank possible with a Captaincy as yet unavailable. Admiral Carnasus made it known that I was to be viewed as an Admiral Candidate. I would like to add that he was also prepared to demote one of you in order to give me such a position – which strategy I refused. Only Dravenik stood higher than me in the ranking system, and he is gone. So I have now assumed the position of Fleet Admiral. I understand that four of you, one now departed in his ship, have lodged objections to my claim. Under Fleet law, six objections are required. I am now Fleet Admiral, and whether you object to this or not, I expect your obedience, and hope in time to gain your respect.’ Again he paused, studying those captains he knew to have objected.

  ‘Since Parliament reinstated our wartime prerogatives, Carmel has been brought back online and is now processing materials stored here for twenty years. Over those twenty years all our hilldiggers have depleted their stores of spare parts, weaponry and fissile fuels. My orders to you now are that you make your ships ready, suckle on Carmel and grow strong, for soon we will be going to Sudoria to bring Orbital Combine to account.’

  Applause followed, some overly enthusiastic, some desultory.

  It was enough.

  11

  In the centur
y before the War we were growing wealthy and most of that wealth lay in the hands of industrialists and agriculturalists. They used this wealth, and consequent power, to form their own ‘parties’ and thus gain representation in the Planetary Council. The old parties were pushed aside till the largest proportion of representatives belonged to powerful corporations – their voting strength coming from workers who had signed up to the corporate parties out of fear of losing their jobs or of losing the protection afforded by their corporation’s security force. There were also other forms of coercion: ‘If you leave, remember that our fire service won’t be able to help you should your house inadvertently burn down. If you leave, you’ll have to find a school for your children and the best schools are those funded by the corporation. And if you decide to join another corporation, well, think again about that fire risk.’ Though we can criticize this unfairly coercive society now, it’s well to remember it created the wealth to take us back into space. It was also this wealth that built the spaceship called The Outstretched Hand. And it was also the drive to acquire more such wealth that equipped it, and that worded the secret orders to its crew.

  – Uskaron

  McCrooger

  I woke up suffering pain even worse than during the brief while I spent slung over Slog’s shoulder. My mind seemed to be replaying a random selection of memories as if to entertain itself while I had been unconscious. Someone had enclosed my body in a lead suit and dropped it down into the dark hold of a Spatterjay sailing ship, where the motion made me nauseous – that, and the snakes writhing inside the suit along with me. A dark place loomed and I knew I just needed to relax into it and everything would go away, but every time I started to do that, something jerked me out, like that rasping snore which snaps one out of a doze.