by Neal Asher
Rhone shortly stepped out of the ATV concerned and walked over to them. Two others who had exited the same vehicle before him were already carrying heavy tool bags towards the lifting gear. A routine tea break maybe?
‘I suppose you’ve come here to tell me off,’ said Rhone.
‘Not really,’ Var replied, ‘but I would like some explanation of why it’s taking so damned long.’
He gestured towards where the work was in progress, then led the way over. Soon they stood beside the towering framework. Over to their left lay the drop into the chasma itself, and beyond it a superb view of the gorgeously unreal landscape. Rhone pointed out one of the joints in the framework.
‘I told Lopomac here about the joints,’ he explained. ‘I earlier made the mistake of assuming it was some form of electrolytic corrosion, but he then helpfully pointed out that it looked like epoxy bonding. He was correct.’
‘Seemed fairly obvious,’ said Lopomac.
‘So,’ said Var, ‘the fixings are bonded. We cut through them, and just weld the framework after we get it back to Martinez.’
Rhone nodded and dipped his head down to peer more closely at the joint, as if further considering her words. At that moment a dull clattering issued from where the workers were located inside the framework. Over radio came an odd crunching sound.
Rhone now stood upright. ‘I knew you would come out here eventually,’ he said.
It took her half a second to realize what had happened. She whirled round to see Lopomac falling, his visor smashed and spattered with blood, vapour issuing from an exit hole that had removed the back of his skull. As she turned back, Rhone had moved out of her reach, and the two who had left the ATV before him were stepping forward. Both of them carried Kalashtech assault rifles that were aimed at her. Var backed up, expecting a bullet at any moment.
‘Traitor,’ she spat.
‘No,’ Rhone replied, ‘just someone who wants to survive. Your arrogance will kill us all. We stand no chance against Earth.’
‘So you’ve been talking to them,’ she said. ‘You’ve been talking to the Scourge?’ She glanced around but could see no way out. They were going to kill her here and now, and that would be the end of it. ‘They’ll just stick you on trial, then in an adjustment cell. Your torture and death will probably appear on ETV primetime.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Rhone, ‘I’ve been talking to Serene Galahad directly and she has made guarantees.’
‘And you believe her?’
‘I believe her guarantees more than I believe that we can survive here unaided. I believe her guarantees more than I believe your fantasies, Varalia Delex.’
Var realized she had backed up right to the edge of the chasma. She was doing their work for them. When they shot her, she would topple into it and they wouldn’t have the messy task of throwing her over the edge. Doubtless Rhone would then return to the base with some story about a nasty accident occurring out here. They weren’t that uncommon.
‘I suppose you killed Delaware just to undermine me,’ she said desperately, turning now to glance down at the long drop behind her. She noticed then how there were rails bolted against the surface down which the lift-cradle had run, because the drop wasn’t sheer.
‘No, that wasn’t the main intention,’ Rhone replied. ‘I killed him merely to shut him up. I wish the distrust in you that his death engendered had been enough, but it wasn’t. Those fools back there still carried on believing in you.’
How badly she had misjudged the base personnel in that, and how right she had been about Rhone. She should have been altogether more ruthless.
‘And so you’re going to kill me,’ she said, trying to extend the verbal exchange further as she desperately searched for a way out. ‘Do you really think anyone will believe whatever story you’re likely to concoct?’
‘I’ve no intention of lying to them,’ Rhone replied. ‘Once they know that Galahad will let them live, and that she only wanted the true rebels here dealt with, they’ll just do what they’re so used to doing, which means whatever they’re told.’
‘You won’t get away with this,’ she said, feeling like a cliché from a million fictional dramas.
Rhone reached out a hand and one of his two men handed over his rifle.
‘I’m just playing the odds,’ he said, raising the weapon.
Var turned round and stepped off the edge. It was likely she would not survive this fall, but it was even less likely that she could survive the ceramic bullets about to punch through her suit. She, too, knew how to play the odds.
Argus
Hannah glanced at Saul as she walked along at his side. So, his sister was still alive, and was actually the technical director of Antares Base. Hannah felt uneasy about that news, felt it was some kind of game changer, but she could not logically nail down why. He had said the fact that Var Saul was offworld might have been an unconscious driver of his actions, but how could something like that be quantified? She wanted to ask him about that further, try to see her way clear, but in the end what use was such knowledge to her? He was in charge of Argus Station. He was the de facto dictator here and his decisions were final.
She followed him into Tech Central and gazed at the new equipment recently installed: the big console with three seats before it, and screens extending above. A couple of technicians had taken a large portion of the floor up and were busy installing optic cables and junctions. From here the adapted EM radiation field could be controlled, as could the vortex-generator ring itself, and the place now looked more like the bridge of the massive spaceship that Argus Station had become.
The murmur of conversation ceased once all present saw who had entered.
‘Welcome back,’ said Le Roque, somewhat pensively.
‘Glad to be here,’ replied Saul, his voice remote and carrying no hint of being annoyed or even happy, no hint of human emotion at all. ‘Everything is proceeding to schedule?’
His gaze strayed to the three main screens up on the wall. Hannah noted that they showed various views of the nearby asteroid. One was from the dock for the smelting plant that had recently been extended, which showed the plant now merely tens of metres from a surface that glared red under powerful work lights. Another was taken from the smelting plant itself, showing the big anchor cables that had been extended across, along with all the umbilicals connected to an excavator robot down on the surface. And the third, from the robot, showed its big rotary digging blade already gnawing into the cinnabar and feeding it into the machine’s maw.
Le Roque watched Saul for a moment, then swung his attention round to Leeran and Pike. It was Pike who responded.
‘We’ve already filled up our first furnace,’ he paused and shrugged, ‘though the word furnace implies temperatures that we’re not using. Better to call them ovens. We’re cooking up the first batch, and already mercury vapour is going into the condensers for primary condensation. Secondary condensation – purification – should begin within six hours, and about eight hours after that we should be ready to start pumping pure product directly into the vortex generator. But, of course, we won’t be able to do that until they’ve completed the ring – and put the section in over the Traveller engine.’
‘Good,’ said Saul, ‘then I won’t delay you here. I want you back out at the smelter plant, making sure nothing goes wrong.’
Pike gave a brief nod. ‘Good to have you back. Things have been edgy.’
‘Yes,’ Leeran agreed, ‘it’s good to have you back.’
Hannah watched them both obediently depart.
‘Brigitta and Angela,’ Saul now addressed the two grinning Saberhagens, ‘you have the time now to commission all the station weapons you’ve built.’ He glanced round at Hannah. ‘At this juncture it is pointless building replacement sections for the vortex ring. If it is hit once it’s up and running, it will tear apart the outer ring of the station.’
The two twins sobered instantly and Hannah immediately began to re
view recent history. She’d given the orders for spare sections to be made. If she’d checked the running specs of the vortex generator she’d have known that they were redundant. But she couldn’t think of everything, because she wasn’t omniscient.
‘Now would be good,’ Saul added.
The twins left, and in a like manner he disposed of all those others who had gathered here: giving orders to secure the various hydroponics units, to ensure the cylinder brakes were working in readiness to stop the spin of the cylinder worlds and lock them down, and numerous other orders besides. But Hannah knew that he could have issued all these orders just as easily through the system; and could probably have carried out the tasks himself without further human intervention. He was here just to show himself, to demonstrate that Argus now had a firm hand on its helm.
Finally, the only personnel remaining were Le Roque, the working technicians and a few of his staff like Chang, along with Langstrom and herself. She felt a sudden familiar tightening in her torso and in the back of her throat. Though she recognized the first signs of a panic attack, they came to her almost like a balm. Her liar panic attacks only ambushed her when there was nothing actually to panic about. He was back in charge, and she could now return to her laboratory.
‘Langstrom,’ he said, turning to the police chief, ‘I have just started running diagnostic checks on Chairman Messina’s space plane, the Imperator, and fuelling has also commenced. I want you to choose the required crew to fly it, and a six-man team of the best EVA workers you have and get them aboard the plane, ready for a flight in twelve hours.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Langstrom replied. ‘Might I enquire why?’
‘The Imperator is armed, and it even has five tactical atomics aboard. I intend to make things a little difficult for the Scourge,’ Saul replied. ‘Get on to that now.’
Langstrom obviously wanted to ask more but, grateful to still be alive, he quickly headed off, taking the repro Manuel with him.
‘Now you, Le Roque,’ Saul said, and the man immediately looked as if he expected the hammer to fall, ‘you’ve been receiving requests from the Scourge to open communication.’
‘We’ve said nothing to them,’ said Le Roque hurriedly.
‘Well, now it is time to talk,’ Saul replied.
‘Why?’ asked Hannah. ‘They want us all dead or captured, and this station back under their control.’
‘You will see shortly,’ Saul replied, as Le Roque turned to the console below the three big screens and punched in a command.
The screen just flickered for a moment, and then a tough Asiatic face appeared. It was the man Hannah recognized from the Scourge broadcasts as Captain Scotonis.
‘So you have seen fit to reply at last,’ said the captain, then his eyes widened fractionally as he took in whatever was visible to him on his screen. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Alan Saul.’ He stepped closer to the screens, and Hannah guessed that he had routed an image of himself, rather than the image the screens, with their integral cams, would be currently picking up of Le Roque.
‘So rumours of your demise have been exaggerated,’ said Scotonis.
‘Not entirely,’ Saul replied, ‘but then death has become a rather movable feast with me. Do you yourself have complete authority aboard the Scourge, Captain Scotonis.’
The captain looked momentarily baffled, then said, ‘I’m handing you over to Political Officer Clay Ruger right now.’
The next image to come up on the screen was another that Hannah recognized from previous attempts at communication with them from the Scourge. The man was also recognizable in another sense, for he was a type. Handsome but cold, there was a kind of blankness there, indicating the archetypal murderous Committee bureaucrat. However, upon seeing Saul, he did show a modicum of shock, albeit quickly concealed.
‘Alan Saul,’ he said. ‘You have a great deal to answer for.’
‘Substantially less, perhaps, than your new leader Serene Galahad, since I did not send the signal to release the Scour from eight billion implant biochips.’ Saul paused for a second. ‘But I sense that this is old news to you.’
Ruger appeared momentarily fazed, but then continued smoothly, ‘That’s complete nonsense. Everyone on Earth knows how you inflicted the Scour on them.’
‘Whatever.’ Saul waved a dismissive hand. ‘I haven’t contacted you to waste time in such recriminations. And certainly I can’t apprise the people of Earth of the truth, since it seems that Galahad now has her own comlife guarding Govnet.’
Again Ruger took a moment to recover. ‘Then why have you called?’
‘To make you an offer,’ Saul replied. ‘Twenty minutes ago I began making a copy of all the Gene Bank data we have stored aboard Argus, so I can begin transmitting it to you at once.’
Again Ruger’s response was slow, but now Hannah realized that this was due in part to transmission delay, which seemed to emphasize his hesitancy. She studied Saul’s face. What was he doing?
‘And what would you want in return for that?’
‘Despite my demonization on ETV, I am not actually a nihilist. I would like to see that data used on Earth to try and restore its biosphere, and it is little enough trouble for me to send you a recording of it.’
‘What about the physical samples?’
‘Unfortunately, making copies of them would take months, if not years, since it would involve some lengthy biotech processes. I could, however, set such processes in motion should you be prepared to stand off and wait.’
‘I would have to put this to Chairman Galahad.’
‘I understand.’ Saul nodded. ‘I have now begun transmitting the data to you, and I do have one small thing to ask in return.’
‘And that is?’
‘Tell me, what is that object fixed around your neck?’
Ruger really did look put out this time. He unconsciously reached up to touch the metal ring, and seemed to be searching for the right words.
‘It ensures obedience,’ he said.
‘Strangulation,’ Saul replied. ‘Explosive collars are too messy, and inducer- and drug-administering versions are too complicated to manufacture in large numbers.’
Ruger just gave a tight nod.
‘Get back to me when you’ve received a reply from your chairman,’ Saul finished.
The screen flicked back to show the mining robot still hard at work.
‘What was the point of that?’ asked Le Roque. ‘You’re throwing away one of our biggest bargaining chips.’
Saul turned to him, and Le Roque abruptly took a pace back.
‘I agree with him,’ Hannah interjected, not so much because she did agree but in the hope of forestalling any nasty reaction from Saul.
Saul watched her as she moved round to stand beside Le Roque, his face expressionless until he remembered to appear human, and he smiled ruefully.
‘It was, in effect, about a number of things,’ he replied. ‘I actually do want a copy of that data back on Earth, in fact as many copies as possible, because I am not a nihilist and the death of Earth’s biosphere concerns me as much as it concerns those still living there. However,’ he held up one finger, ‘consider just how much data that copy will contain. It would consist of the DNA maps for maybe twenty per cent of Earth’s species, which incidentally includes most of the macro fauna and flora of the planet. It comprises literally terabytes of data – more than could possibly be checked through by the Scourge’s computer security.’
‘You’re making a link, then,’ said Hannah. ‘You’re going to take control of their ship.’
‘I hope so,’ he said, ‘though it is quite possible they will route the data straight into completely isolated storage. My hope is that, instead, they will then begin transmitting it back to Earth, where it is more likely that someone will be careless in their handling of it.’
‘What’s the benefit to us?’
‘There is a small chance that it won’t go into isolated storage, and right now we
need to grab every chance we can get. It’s also the case that, if it is routed back to Earth, it could come in useful in the future . . . if there is a future for us at all.’
‘You said something about comlife back there,’ said Hannah.
‘While I slept, I felt it,’ he supplied, ‘but just before we came in here I tried to obtain data from Govnet. This Galahad has set her own guards on the computer networks of Earth, seven of them. They do not have my grip on the data world, however, so I suspect the bioware used was an earlier version of yours, but with transmission delays they are enough to keep me out. However, if what I am currently weaving into the Gene Bank data is released there, I will gain a foothold.’
‘A foothold in the future doesn’t help us now,’ said Le Roque.
Saul shook his head briefly, as if in irritation. ‘Again you fail to grasp the danger we are in. I had to send it simply because of the small chance of it being effective on the Scourge. But, of course,’ he continued, ‘I am not betting our lives on that possibility.’ He turned towards the door. ‘We need that drive, we need those weapons, and we need to do all we can to give us the time for them to be completed.’ He paused at the door, and Hannah hurried to catch up with him. Before stepping out, he added, ‘And one way of giving us some time is to lay a minefield.’
Earth
It had taken some weeks to prepare the place, because Serene had wanted it open and with no buildings in sight. She had ordered that the entire area previously evacuated during the search for the deer killers should remain unoccupied – its three million previous residents being reassigned to accommodation emptied by the Scour. Next the big dozers and ploughs were flown in, first clearing a mountain in the misnamed Transylvanian Plateau of its infection of apartment blocks and then heading outwards, tearing up further buildings and dumping their rubble in various valleys, canyons and gorges. Serene estimated that by the time the machines had finished there the place could truly be called a plateau.
