The Dying Light

by Sean Williams

  * * *

  She lost direct radio contact with Haid the moment she followed Idil into the shaft. She could still hear the regular ping broadcast by the courier, but only as a series of faint and highly peculiar echoes, as though the shaft was absorbing the signal, interfering with it, then broadcasting it back at her from a dozen locations at once. She didn’t know what would happen if she tried to contact him. Maybe nothing out of the ordinary, or he wouldn’t hear her at all.

  It was too late to worry about that now.

  She followed close behind Idil, watching as the antennae of the outrigger’s suit were enfolded to prevent damage to fragile components. The other two, somewhere behind Roche, were no doubt doing the same. The shaft itself was lit by the searchlights of the three all-suits and her own suit, giving her an intriguing glimpse into the moon’s interior. The shaft’s smooth rockface faded after a hundred meters or so; beyond that it shared the color and albedo of bronze, although it could easily have been something else. At one hundred and fifty meters, the shaft doglegged, first upward with respect to Roche, then to her left, then down again, then twice to her right. The turns were always at right angles, but the distances between them were irregular. Navigation was tricky, using thrusters and the occasional limb—or waldo, in the outriggers’ case—to correct miscalculations. After several more such turns, Roche started to feel disoriented, as though trapped in some bizarre cosmic plumbing.

  They passed a tunnel opening to her left, unlit and with the same radius as the shaft they were traveling along. They passed two others before moving “upward” into a fourth. From the inside, it was the same as the one they had left. She could see no markings, no fixtures, no artifacts of any kind. Nothing but endless tunnels, crisscrossing through the heart of the moon.

  Only then did she realize that she had literally lost all sense of up and down—and so had her suit. It was obtaining readings consistent with being in free-fall, regardless of which way they traveled. Something in the tunnel walls, or elsewhere, had dampened the low gravity of the moon to nothing. Why, or how, she couldn’t imagine.

  Ahead of Roche, Idil began to slow. The all-suit issued a burst of white noise, and a hole in the pipe-wall opened to one side. No, not opened, Roche corrected herself; it had always been there. The holographic generator concealing it had simply been switched off.

  Idil led the way through the hole, into a spherical chamber one hundred meters across, from which many other such openings led. Otherwise, the walls were smooth, ranging in color from the bronze of the tunnels to a deep cherry-red at the points farthest from the holes. The walls radiated light of a frequency not dissimilar to that of Hintubet.

  The space within the chamber contained a thin atmosphere, held in place by some sort of boundary-field across each hole, and a further seven outriggers drifting in free-fall. Each was slightly different from the others. With instruments retracted, they looked like escape capsules, capsules made by ten different companies for ten different Castes; when instruments did appear, they did so in unique configurations and combinations. There were no portholes, no indications as to the appearances of their occupants at all, but it was easy to tell them apart.

  Idil, Yul, and Eli dispersed once they were in the room, and the seven others seemed to rearrange themselves slightly to accommodate the newcomers. Within moments Roche was the only thing moving in the center of the chamber; the outriggers had, perhaps by instinct, arranged themselves in a way that maximized the space between them.

  “We want to know why you came here, Morgan Roche.” The signal came from an outrigger whose all-suit was shaped like a teardrop, tapering at its aft end to a menacing point. Even this close and in an atmosphere, the outriggers still communicated by radio.

  “I came here to find you,” she answered. “Survivors, anyway. We were picking up signals from this region.”

  “Not from us, you weren’t.”

  “No. I know that now.” She paused for a second, then asked: “Why are you hiding down here?”

  “Because we don’t want to die, like the others,” said one, his suit marked with concentric green triangles.

  “You saw what happened?”

  “Wide Berth spine lost almost a full complement over the spaceport on Aro. All hands of Long Span remained at a distance, and so we survived.” This voice, thickly accented, came from an all-suit striped diagonally in black. The effect it had upon Roche as it slowly rotated was dizzying. “We came down here when the Galine station arrived because we suspected we would not be safe near it.”

  “We will never be safe in this system,” said the green triangle outrigger in sharp disagreement. “We’ve already lost seventeen since we’ve been here.”

  “The short term is all that matters—”

  “The short term is all you ever think about, Lud. When the one who killed the clan on Wide Berth comes looking for us, he will find you sitting here still, the easiest target in the galaxy.”

  A babble of argument broke out. Clearly the quorum was divided on what to do about the Sol clone warrior, just as Idil, Yul, and Eli had been about Roche.

  She smiled to herself. This was everything she’d hoped for. If she could only keep them talking—

  She caught a flash that might have been leakage from a private laser communication, then the teardrop all-suit spoke:

  “We shouldn’t squabble within the clan,” she said. Her voice was firm, and resembled Mil’s in inflection if not pitch. “We came here, Morgan Roche, to escape Wide Berth’s fate. We have watched events in the system carefully since then, awaiting any sign that the one behind the attack on Wide Berth was coming here. So far, there has been no such sign. Your arrival caused a moment of concern, but it’s clear that you are not the one. Your approach was too open, too blatant. I fear that the one we anticipate will be upon us before we even suspect.”

  “The data you collected—” Roche broke in. “May I—?”

  “Access it? Certainly.”

  So easy? Roche couldn’t help but be suspicious.

  “Why?” she asked. “I thought you wanted to interrogate me?”

  “We do. But the clan teaches that all answers lie in the questioner’s own heart. If we exchange information, perhaps you will see for us what we do not.”

  Roche nodded. “Perhaps,” she said.

  “What do we have to lose?” The teardrop’s blunt end unfolded like a flower, peeling back shielding to expose delicate machinery within. “You are not the one we feared. I therefore put my trust in you, Morgan Roche. I have faith you will not abuse it.”

  Roche was slightly taken back. “Just who are you, anyway?” she asked.

  “My name is Byrne, auditor of Long Span spine. In situations such as these, when time is of the essence, I am the one that makes decisions.”

  “So their lives are basically in your hands?” said Roche.

  “As mine is in theirs,” she replied. “We are one, even when we disagree.”

  “You are their voice,” said Roche.

  The blunt end of the all-suit began to close. “I am also the one that asks the questions, and right now I would ask again: Why are you here, Morgan Roche?”

  Roche was still a little stunned by the odd turn of events, but she knew that if she was going to get anywhere with the outriggers, then she was going to have to talk to Byrne, and that meant answering anything asked of her. So she outlined her reasons for coming to the system and what had happened to her since arriving. No point was covered twice, until the end, when Roche was asked to recapitulate her relationship with Adoni Cane. Many of the outriggers assembled for the quorum were hesitant to trust someone who had links with another Sol Wunderkind—albeit one who seemed less destructive than the one who had destroyed Palasian System. Roche could understand that.

  “The other spine, Wide Berth,” she said, fishing for information of her own. “What exactly happened to them over Aro?”

  “We received distress signals,” said Byrne. “A number of
small pods, possibly escape capsules. Wide Berth decided to attempt a rescue. We advised against it, and suspected that the one behind the attack on the domed city—the Sol clone warrior, as you call him—was still in the area. Whether he was or not, we never did find out, but the pods were a trap. An orbital whip decimated the main body of those who went to investigate, while gas-guns picked off the survivors.”

  “We were unable to assist them in time,” Lud’s bitter voice broke in. “And those observing from the Galine station did not intervene.”

  “You saw the observers?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’ve had no contact at all with Galine Four?” said Roche.

  “We hailed them when it arrived, but they ignored us,” said Byrne. “This is not uncommon, of course, as outriggers are often overlooked. But when they also ignored the plight of Wide Berth, we knew its disinterest was more malevolent than usual.”

  Roche absorbed this. The ferocity of the attack on the Wide Berth outriggers didn’t necessarily mean that the Sol clone warrior was personally directing it; automatic systems could have done as well. But Aro was the last location he’d been known to be; the chance of an eyewitness report was worth following up.

  “No one survived the attack?”

  “One,” said Byrne. “The youngest of the clan, a boy named Yarrow. His role in the spine was observer, so he was removed from the focus of attack. We found his all-suit breached and drifting a day later. His emergency systems lasted barely long enough to return him to Long Span, where his all-suit was repaired.”

  “Could I talk to him?”

  “That is impossible,” said Byrne.

  “He might have information—”

  “He can tell you nothing,” said Lud firmly.

  “I’d still like to ask.”

  “His peace is more important than your wishes!” spat Lud.

  The softer voice of Auditor Byrne filled the quiet following Lud’s anger: “Yarrow has not spoken since the attack on his clan. You are welcome to try, but I don’t like your chances.”

  “You’re sure it is him?”

  “Of course,” said Byrne. “I oversaw his healing myself.”

  Roche wondered whether Byrne had actually seen the boy in the flesh or operated through his all-suit. She also wondered how Byrne could be so sure he was who he said he was since he’d come from another spine. It would be all too easy to hide in an all-suit and pretend to be someone who was actually dead.

  But she decided not to push the issue any further, for now. Byrne seemed convinced of the boy’s identity. Instead Roche promised herself she would try to talk to the boy herself, later.

  “Is there nothing new you can tell me about the Sol clone warrior’s activities?” she said.

  The spinning of Lud’s striped all-suit slowed. “No.”

  “He speaks the truth.” Byrne’s voice was regretful. “By the time we knew something was wrong, the clone warrior had gone into hiding; and before we could escape, the system was enclosed. We are trapped here as surely as he is.”

  “Perhaps not any more,” said Lud.

  “True.” Byrne’s tone was thoughtful. “Morgan Roche, although I have said that I trust you, that does not mean that we will help you freely, or at all. The clan as a whole needs to consider everything you’ve told us. Your actions and those of Linegar Rufo could be interpreted many ways, and I must consult with my people before making any decisions.”

  “How long will that take?” Roche asked.

  “Several hours. The debate will be thorough, with as many attending the Plenary as possible. You may attend the summation, if you wish.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.” Roche was curious to see how the outriggers would attain consensus on such a complex issue in so short a time, and was naturally concerned that its outcome would be in her favor. “But first I’m going to have to contact my ship from the surface. I told my crew that I would report in.”

  “Idil and Yul will escort you.”

  “I have no intention of escaping.”

  “I believe you, Morgan Roche,” said Byrne. “They will act more as your guides than your guards.”

  Nothing was said, but Byrne’s words still carried an implicit warning. Mok’s labyrinth was extensive and difficult to navigate, and should Roche choose to attempt to elude her guides, she knew she would quickly become lost. If that happened, it was possible they would not be able to find her again. If they even tried.

  To Roche’s nominated guides, Auditor Byrne added: “Perhaps you could show her the central chamber on your return.” Roche neither saw nor heard any kind of acknowledgment from either Idil or Yul, yet something seemed to be conveyed to the auditor. A second later she said: “Excellent, then you can join us from there.”

  With that, the outriggers led Roche out of the chamber, while the quorum assumed its former configuration, only with Auditor Byrne at the center and the remaining seven around her.

  Roche’s guides took her along the corridor outside at a more sedate pace than before. Roche couldn’t tell if they were retracing their steps. The many turns and lack of reference points had her thoroughly confused, substantiating Byrne’s unspoken warning.

  “How do you know where you’re going?” Roche asked.

  Yul’s gruff voice answered: “Breeding.”

  “Our internal guidance systems are highly specialized,” Idil chipped in. “Much more sophisticated than yours. You could sever us from all our senses and take us anywhere across the system. Set us adrift, and we could find our way to within a kilometer of where we started.”

  “What’s that got to do with breeding?” Roche asked.

  “Some of us are third- or fourth-generation clan members,” said Idil. “We gestated within and were raised as part of our suits; its systems are ours, although naturally the interface is not perfect. With every generation, however, we improve.”

  Roche was reminded of Uri Kajic. This wasn’t so different. The ancient Dato Ataman, for whom the Marauder was named, might’ve saved herself a lot of trouble if only she’d talked to outriggers before launching the Andermahr Experiment.

  But traditionally no one talked to outriggers. Did business with them, yes, but did not converse as equals. They were regarded with the same sort of suspicion and contempt as nomads were on some backward worlds. That they were capable of great technical skill didn’t especially surprise Roche, but their sense of honor and integrity did. Auditor Byrne and Idil had both demonstrated clearheadedness and willingness to trust under difficult circumstances—something Roche’s former colleagues in COE Intelligence were not renowned for.

  “How many of you come from outside the clan?” she asked.

  “About half,” Idil replied. “We see a lot of disaffected types as we travel. Jaded combat soldiers; criminals looking for somewhere to hide; sociophobes. Most we reject out of hand. The ones we keep are those who demonstrate an ability to maintain group integrity over vast distances. It’s a difficult thing to manage; some never do come to terms with the isolation. But once accepted, the lifestyle does have its rewards.”

  “Do you give preference to those who come from the same place as others within the clan? Or to groups of applicants? I notice that you and the auditor have a similar accent.”

  “We do, but our relationship is not what you might think. I joined Long Span as a teenager when it passed through the fringes of Gwydyon seventy-eight subjective years ago—one hundred and twenty of yours. My all-suit used to belong to the woman whose clan name I took after my tenth year as a member. She died of old age six months before I joined. In my twentieth year I elected to have a child, conceived parthenogenetically from my own tissue. I gave her the name of my mother, back on Gwydyon, and designed her all-suit myself. Auditor Byrne is my daughter.”

  Roche pondered this as Idil and Yul led her toward the surface of the strange, alien moon.

  * * *

  “I’m sure it’s okay, Ameidio.”

  “Damn i
t, Morgan!” The annoyance was obvious in Haid’s voice. “You’re taking an awful risk.”

  “Only because I need to. You know that. I’ll be away a few hours longer, and the suit will need a top-up. If I had a choice, I’d let you come down, but I don’t trust Myer and Disisto alone in the ship. So you’ll have to send Disisto with everything I need.”

  “Why don’t you just come up here? You can be here and back within an hour.”

  “Because it’s not just about supplies. I might need someone else down here if the decision doesn’t go our way. They’ve said we can trust them, but I’m not willing to believe everything they say just yet.”

  Haid was silent for a second. “Besides which, you want to have a look around, right?”

  Roche smiled to herself. “You got it.”

  “I guess I can’t blame you, Morgan. From what the suit recorded, I can’t say I’ve seen anywhere like it before.”

  “Disisto will be interested in it too, given his association with Rufo’s work. Another reason to send him down. And maybe I can work on him a little, get him to change his mind.”

  “Okay, okay,” Haid said with a mix of resignation and levity. “Besides, it’s getting a little crowded up here. Mavalhin’s awake, and if I hear one more complaint out of him, I swear I’m going to put him in the airlock.”

  “Any particular issue?”

  “He wants to talk to you.”

  “Naturally. But if it’s not important, he can wait.”

  “That’s what I keep telling him. Unfortunately, I’ve run out of reasons to keep him under sedation, and he gripes about being tied up.”

  Roche chuckled to herself. She could sympathize, but there was little else she could do. “Any other news?”

  “A tightbeam from the Box arrived not long ago, bounced off a drone near Herensung. We have an ETA with the Ana Vereine in five days. The Box says we’ll be able to contact it safely in twenty-four hours. It’ll send us coordinates before then.”

  “That’s progress, I guess.” Since their last exchange of messages to arrange the rendezvous point, they had maintained strict radio silence. “Good to know the ship evaded capture.”