Empire of Light

by Gary Gibson

  In that moment Dakota herself looked as small, frail and vulnerable as he’d ever seen her. ‘It’s difficult to explain.’

  ‘I just killed a man, and risked the crew of our flagship on an expedition halfway across the galaxy to track this thing down, and that’s the best you can say?’

  ‘Let me remind you of the facts,’ she replied, her tone defiant. ‘The Emissaries are already on their way. The swarm is still out there somewhere, looking for the Mos Hadroch. You’re just going to have to take me on trust for now, because I’m pretty much working out things as I go along.’

  ‘Assuming we really have found the Mos Hadroch,’ he pointed out, ‘and not just an alien corpse.’

  She was silent as he finished buttoning his shirt up. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, thinking hard, before turning to her again.

  ‘Who else knows you’re here on Redstone?’

  ‘Nobody apart from you and Ted Lamoureaux.’

  ‘Good, let’s keep it that way.’

  ‘Why keep it a secret?’

  ‘Because the more I think about it, the more I think things are going to get very nasty. If my enemies even suspected you were here, they might consider it de facto proof that I was planning an attack on the frigate.’

  She slid off the bed and came towards him. ‘And are you?’

  ‘Let’s say I’ve already been thinking of contingency plans in case things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to.’

  ‘So when were you thinking of putting them into action?’

  Corso stared out at the helical twist of girders that framed the Senate building, before answering, ‘As soon as possible.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lamoureaux was already there a few days later, when Corso arrived at the spaceport a few kilometres outside Unity. Its turbos humming loudly, his automated taxi blew up a storm of grit as it dropped down on to the blackened concrete plain a short distance from the vehicle that had brought Lamoureaux.

  Lamoureaux wore a fur-lined parka, a cheap breather mask strapped over his mouth and nose. The sun was bright, but still low on the horizon, burning away the freezing mist that clung to the ground.

  ‘Ted,’ Corso greeted him, climbing out of the taxi and stepping towards the other man. ‘Thanks for coming here.’

  Lamoureaux nodded uncertainly. ‘I don’t know if you heard the news this morning.’

  ‘I’m afraid I did, yes.’

  The Consortium had finally made their move, taking over the research station servicing the cache within the Tierra system. Legislate – registered military cruisers equipped with newly minted superluminal drive-cores had moved in, while Fleet representatives throughout the system had been placed under arrest.

  Lamoureaux nodded. ‘Now maybe you can tell me why I had to come to Redstone under an assumed identity, without my Magi ship.’

  ‘I’m sorry about all the subterfuge, but it was necessary, believe me. I needed to be sure nobody knew you were here at all.’

  ‘I watched some of the local news broadcasts. They really don’t like people with implants here, do they?’

  ‘Not generally, no.’

  Lamoureaux reached up to fiddle with his mask. Corso saw he hadn’t put it on right, and stepped forward to adjust the straps for him.

  ‘I don’t know how the hell you manage to go around with these things on,’ Lamoureaux muttered. ‘I’ve only been out in the open for twenty minutes, and already it’s driving me crazy.’

  ‘I grew up having to wear these things any time I went outdoors,’ Corso replied, stepping away again. ‘And it gets to be second nature. Might as well complain about having to hold your breath if you go diving. How does that feel?’

  ‘Better,’ Lamoureaux admitted, tentatively touching the device where it pressed against his face, ‘though I’d still rather not be wearing it at all. Now, do you mind telling me why all the subterfuge?’

  ‘Because there’s an extraordinary motion due to go through the Senate this morning to have me removed from my seat and placed under arrest on charges of sedition against the state,’ Corso explained.

  ‘Then we have to get you out of here promptly. We need to get you back to Ocean’s Deep.’

  ‘No.’ Corso shook his head. ‘By the time we got back there, it’d be just as dangerous. Think about it: the strike against the cache, the dispute over the Mjollnir – it’s all tied together. Now there are rumours the Mjollnir’s going to be leaving orbit again in a few days’ time.’

  ‘But it only just got here,’ Lamoureaux protested.

  ‘Nonetheless, I’ve got good intelligence it’s headed for the Sol system. We can’t allow that to happen.’

  ‘So what do you plan on doing?’

  ‘We need to get on board and take control before it can leave.’

  Lamoureaux searched his face. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you? What was the point of fighting Jarret, then?’

  ‘I made the mistake of thinking the people behind him would stick to their own rules. But they were just gambling I’d be the one to wind up dead, and thus solve all their problems.’

  Lamoureaux shivered. ‘You haven’t told me exactly where we’d take the Mjollnir.’

  ‘Did you know Dakota’s still alive?’

  Lamoureaux nodded warily. ‘Now that you mention it, yes. I didn’t know until she got in touch with me a few days ago, asking me not to tell anyone. I didn’t even know if she’d told anyone else.’

  ‘She came to me a few nights ago and said me she wants to take the Mos Hadroch into Emissary territory, to one of their own caches. She claims that’s the only way it can work.’

  ‘Fly the Mjollnir into Emissary territory? That’s crazy.’

  Corso smiled grimly under his mask. ‘If you’ve got any better ideas, I can’t wait to hear them. Because I’ve been doing nothing but trying to think of alternatives and, assuming Dakota isn’t insane or making up stories, I can’t think of any.’

  ‘Things might be a lot simpler if she was crazy.’

  ‘She claimed she died out there when she tracked the Maker down,’ Corso told him. ‘That it destroyed her and her ship, but that it somehow preserved her mind and transmitted it to another ship closer to home. I want to know if you think that’s remotely possible.’

  ‘Shit.’ Lamoureaux stamped his feet a few times on the frozen concrete, and shoved his gloved hands deeper into the recesses of his silvered parka. He stared off into the distance for several moments, towards a couple of rapid-orbit cargo ships idling on the concrete a few kilometres away, steam trickling out from their main nacelles.

  ‘All right,’ he said at last, ‘you’re worried she’s been hit by whatever’s taken down a lot of other machine-heads. What I would say is that she isn’t any crazier than any of the rest of them, and none of them has shown the least sign of being delusional. And also there are . . . depths to the Magi ships I can’t even begin to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced them. The Magi were verging on godlike when they disappeared, Senator, so I suspect it’s probably the least of the tricks they could pull off.’

  He stared past Corso, chewing the inside of a cheek.

  ‘You’ve got something else on your mind?’

  Lamoureaux met his eyes. ‘I’ve got to tell you, Senator, that interstellar piracy was pretty high on my list of career options when I was twelve years old, but I’m balking at it now.’

  Corso grinned. ‘Did I even say you were coming along?’

  Lamoureaux laughed, the sound strangely muffled by his breather mask. ‘I’m not sure what else you expect me to do. My Magi ship is still back at Ocean’s Deep, otherwise maybe I’d be able to grab control of the Mjollnir.’ He shrugged. ‘Dakota could do the same.’

  ‘No, she couldn’t – and neither could you. The Mjollnir’s had manual circuit breakers installed in case of exactly that eventuality.’

  ‘Huh?’ Lamoureaux shook his head. ‘But surely that’s crazy. Don’t the Freehold have their own machine-
heads now?’

  ‘Yes, out of necessity, but they don’t really trust them either.’

  Ships all throughout the Consortium had been hastily modified to prevent them from being taken over by hostile machine-heads linked to Magi ships. A lot of damage could be effected in the brief seconds it took an unaugmented human pilot to react to a hostile takeover, but once he had thrown the switch, the attack could be stopped immediately.

  ‘Well, that makes it a little more complicated, doesn’t it? If Dakota’s also going on this expedition of yours, you won’t need me, will you?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Corso replied. ‘I’d need you along to help me keep an eye on her, and because I need people with me I can trust. So what do you say?’

  Lamoureaux scuffed one booted foot against the concrete before letting his shoulders sag as if in defeat. ‘What else am I going to do, Senator? Sit around along with everyone else and wait for the Emissaries to arrive? It’s not much of a choice.’

  Corso grinned and put a hand on the machine-head’s shoulder. ‘I don’t even know if it’s going to come to an armed assault, but it might.’

  ‘You have the resources to do that?’

  Corso nodded. ‘The Mjollnir’s going to have only a skeleton crew when we board, so it’s extremely unlikely we’ll face any serious opposition. Not that you’d be expected to carry a gun or anything like that; you’d be following us in only once we feel sure it’s safe.’

  ‘So who else is going?’

  ‘Hopefully the Mjollnir’s usual commander, a man named Martinez, and one or two of his senior staff. I’m not sure the expedition would even have happened if not for him. He’s currently under house arrest, but I’m working on tracking him and the others down. White-cloud’s been spirited away, but assuming we find him too, he’s coming with us. Leo Olivarri and Ray Willis should get here any day. Once I’ve had a chance to explain what I’ve got in mind, I’m hoping they’ll agree to come along also.’

  Lamoureaux shook his head and grinned visibly beneath his mask. ‘You realize how insane all this sounds.’

  The way he said it, it almost seemed like a compliment.

  ‘Our plan is to board the frigate in less than a week, when it’s scheduled for final maintenance and diagnostic checks. Security will be low, and we won’t get a better chance.’

  ‘And if it all goes wrong? If I don’t hear from you, or they arrest you or kill you meanwhile, what then?’

  ‘Then I’d advise you to find some way off Redstone and out of this system as fast as possible. Until then, we’ve got a lot of work to do.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  The return journey aboard the Mjollnir had proved a difficult time for Ty. As soon as he and Nancy had reached the safety of the frigate, the ship had jumped to a point a few hundred light-years distant, while the Atn’s remains were placed under guard in the ship’s aboratory complex. Ty had been turned back when he tried to enter the labs, and told in no uncertain terms he was not to be allowed access to the Atn’s body for the remainder of the journey.

  It had soon become clear there were political machinations taking place far beyond the frigate, which Ty could only guess at. Martinez vanished from the bridge, and if not for Nancy he might never have known the Commander had been confined to his quarters while his second in command, Simenon, assumed control. Other members of Martinez’s senior staff had also quickly vanished from the ship’s centrifuge, replaced by hastily promoted members of their crew. An angry confrontation with Simenon over access to the Atn’s remains had ended with Ty barred completely from the bridge. He had risked his life to retrieve the thing, yet his every request was dismissed out of hand.

  On arriving back at Redstone, teams of armed soldiers had boarded the freighter, rapidly separating Ty from the rest of the crew without explanation. Before long he was ferried down to a spaceport and transferred to the windowless rear of a robot truck that drove away immediately.

  He still had no idea where he was being taken, or whether or not he was under arrest.

  The vehicle drove for over an hour before finally coming to a stop and unlocking its doors. Ty stepped out into what appeared to be an underground garage, where a man with impossibly wide shoulders and a face like granite was waiting for him.

  Ty did not fail to notice the way the man’s pale grey eyes widened the moment he saw him. Yes, Ty thought, with a growing sense of doom. The man was clearly trying to remember where he had seen him before.

  ‘Mr . . . Driscoll,’ the Freeholder rumbled. ‘Welcome to Redstone.’

  Ty nodded, and fought back the tight knot of panic gathering in his stomach. He started at a sudden noise, then realized it was only the truck reversing back up the ramp that led into an industrial-sized airlock.

  ‘My name is Rufus Weil,’ the Freeholder continued. ‘You’ll be staying here for a day or two.’ Weil paused, and again those pale grey eyes roved around Ty’s face, as if trying to place him. ‘If there’s anything you need while you’re here, just let me know.’

  ‘All right,’ said Ty, still watching as the airlock’s inner door closed on the truck. ‘Where exactly am I? And why am I even here? Nobody would tell me anything.’

  ‘You’re in Unity, the Freehold’s capital. And you’re here because of a matter of security. There are questions over exactly who has jurisdiction over the Mjollnir, and the Senate requests that you stay here until they’re sorted out.’

  ‘How long is that going to take?’ Ty demanded, feeling scandalized. ‘And what about the . . . remains I recovered?’

  ‘Those are high-level security questions, Mr Driscoll, and I’m not allowed to discuss them. All I can do is ensure you’re comfortable while you’re here, and apologize for any inconvenience.’ He waved towards a nearby bank of elevators. ‘This way, please.’

  Ty stood his ground, unwilling to share the small, confined space inside the elevator with this Freeholder. He did not want to have to stare into those quietly accusing grey eyes any more than he had to. ‘What exactly is this place? Am I a prisoner here?’

  ‘No, sir, you’re a guest. This is a residency for officials from other settlements when they’re visiting the Senate. You’ll have an entire suite allocated for your personal use.’ Weil once more indicated the waiting elevator. ‘Please, now. You’ll be here no more than a few days.’

  Ty considered his options and decided he had none. He swallowed nervously and stepped towards the row of gleaming silver doors.

  As the elevator carried the two of them upwards, in silence, Ty could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow. The interior of the elevator was mirrored, so that there was no way he could avoid Weil’s persistent, accusatory gaze. Any doubts Ty had that his paranoia was getting the better of him vanished under that fixed stare.

  Several minutes later Ty was relieved to find himself alone in what indeed appeared to be a luxury-sized suite, whose picture windows looked out across the city. He listened to Weil’s footsteps padding away down the corridor and leaned his head against the door, taking several long, deep breaths until he felt his nerves start to settle back into equilibrium.

  No doubt about it; Weil knew who he was – or certainly had strong suspicions. The Freeholder, Ty estimated, was in his mid-to late thirties – just about the right age to have taken part in the abortive, Consortium-backed assault against the Uchidan Territories more than a decade before. Also just the sort of person to wonder if he had seen Ty’s face on some long-ago news bulletin.

  But even his sudden fear of being uncovered could not entirely distract from the frustration at being prevented from studying the body he had risked his life to recover. He felt sure that within its dusty shell lay the summation of all his life’s work: a suitable antidote to the rank failures of the past.

  An armchair faced the window. He fell into it, suddenly exhausted, and stared out through the glass. A warning sticker detailed the fatal consequences of either opening or breaking the window without having a breather mask handy
. As a native of Redstone, he knew full well how deadly the planet’s naked atmosphere was. So if things got bad enough he could . . .

  No. He slammed the arm of the chair and leaned forward, chewing on a knuckle. Suicide was not an option. He had thought it was finished when the Territories decided to hand him over to the Consortium, and even then he had escaped. No matter how bad things looked, there was always a way.

  Ty brooded for a while longer, then stood up and stepped over to the door. He was pleased to find it was not locked, but a man of a distinctly similar build and demeanour to Marcus Weil sat in an easy chair down the far end of the corridor, next to the elevator.

  ‘Sir,’ said the man, rising, ‘can I help you?’

  Ty shook his head and forced a smile. ‘No, thank you.’

  He ducked back inside, closing the door and listening to it click as it swung to. He might not be locked in, and it might be a comfortable suite, but it was definitely also a prison.

  He returned to the armchair, and watched the sun track its way across the sky, just thinking.

  Ty woke, much later, to find himself in darkness.

  He shook his head, rubbed tired hands through his hair and staggered into the suite’s bathroom. When he emerged from the shower, wrapped in a bathrobe, the first trickling light of dawn was showing itself beyond the glass of the window.

  He lay down on top of the bed and soon fell asleep again.

  Later in the morning, the same man who had been set to guard him the night before entered the suite with a breakfast tray. He placed it on a table by the armchair, along with a shrink-wrapped bundle.

  ‘Who are you?’ Ty demanded, still groggy with sleep.

  ‘Hibbert, Mr Driscoll.’ He nodded to the shrink-wrapped package. ‘We ran afresh change of clothes out for you earlier this morning. If they’re not right, let me know.’

  ‘What happened to Weil?’

  The Freeholder regarded Ty with a carefully blank expression. ‘Mr Weil works on a different shift, Mr Driscoll. Enjoy your breakfast.’