by Gary Gibson
I made my way to my old room and grabbed a coat and scarf, feeling the chill loosen its hold on my bones as I pulled them on. I took one last look around, then returned to find Casey crouching in the doorway.
‘Can you hear that?’ he asked, nodding towards the far end of the alley. ‘Sounds like music.’
I listened, hearing unaccompanied voices singing in unison; a medieval madrigal, mournful and solemn.
‘That’s Pierre Agerstrand,’ I said, gripped by a sudden excitement. I took hold of Casey’s arm and led him farther down the alley. ‘He was my father’s closest friend.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘It’s what he listens to all the time. He says it helps him concentrate.’
I led him around a corner and saw light coming from an open window, three storeys up: Pierre’s old workroom. I could hear the music more clearly now.
A shape moved in the window, momentarily blocking the light. I saw the outline of a man look out over the rooftops before moving back out of sight.
A low hum came from the higher terraces, followed by a brief flare of light.
‘That was another transfer,’ said Casey, unnecessarily.
‘If anyone can tell us what’s going on up there,’ I said, ‘or where to find the Hypersphere, it’s Pierre.’
‘You’re sure?’ Casey sounded dubious.
‘I guarantee it. Come on.’
I didn’t wait for his reply. I scuttled over to the entrance of the building and slipped inside. Casey hurried over a moment later, mumbling and cursing under his breath.
Stairs led upwards on our left, while a door on the right led into a storeroom. I climbed the steps as quietly and quickly as I could, Casey following close behind.
I came to the third-floor landing and stepped towards the door of Pierre’s workroom, peering through a glass pane set at head height. I saw the back of Pierre’s head. I pressed my face closer to the glass and saw that he was leaning heavily on his stick, his attention focused on a computer before him. A framed photograph of Pierre’s long-dead wife sat on a shelf to one side.
The music came to an end. Pierre glanced to one side, looking down the far end of the workroom where I couldn’t see, then returned his attention to the computer.
I glanced at Casey beside me. He’s alone, I mouthed, then eased the door open.
Pierre turned, blinking in shock when he saw me enter.
I stepped farther into the room. ‘Pierre, I—’
The old man stared at me with a look of blank terror, then again turned to look down the far end of the room.
I turned as well, and saw Herr Frank staring back at me from next to the open window. He gaped at me in open-mouthed disbelief, then put both hands on the windowsill and began to shout for help.
Somehow I couldn’t move. I stood there, frozen, the fingers of my right hand still locked around the door handle.
Casey shoved me aside, barging past me and into the room. Herr Frank whirled back around to stare at him, and in that moment something flew out of Casey’s hand, flashing across the intervening space between them.
Herr Frank stared down in disbelief at the knife protruding from his chest. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then staggered back against the windowsill before tumbling backwards and out of sight.
From outside I heard a thump, followed by silence.
‘Sorry,’ said Casey, turning to look at me. ‘I couldn’t think what else to do. Didn’t want him bringing the whole place down on us.’
I walked over to the open window, my legs numb from shock. I leaned out and saw Herr Frank sprawled on the cobblestones three floors down, a dark stain spreading from beneath his head.
Casey stepped up beside me and peered down. ‘I really hope nobody heard any of that.’ He moved back from the window and turned to Pierre, at the same time taking out his gun and levelling it at the old man. ‘Katya, ask him if anyone else is on their way here.’
‘No one else is coming,’ said Pierre, in heavily accented English. ‘It’s unlikely anyone heard him. They’re all on the upper terraces.’ He looked at me as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. ‘You’re alive,’ he said in a half-whisper.
I sank down onto the floor beneath the window. Casey glanced back at me and shook his head in pity. ‘I really hope this is your friend here, and not whoever I just killed.’
I nodded shakily. ‘This is Pierre, yes. The man you killed is Herr Frank. He’s in charge of the Crag.’
Casey’s eyes grew wide. ‘No shit, huh?’ He put his gun away and stepped towards the door. ‘Then do me a favour and keep an eye on your buddy for a minute.’
I stood back up. ‘Where are you going?’ I asked in alarm.
‘Gotta get that body out of sight. I’ll be right back.’
‘Wait!’ I said, and he glanced back at me. ‘The last time I saw him, he had a slip of blue paper on him. It has a code we need to open a cage they keep the Hypersphere in. He might not still have it, but . . .’
He gave me an approving look. ‘Good to know,’ he said, then hurried out of sight.
I turned to Pierre. For a moment, neither of us said anything. Then he collapsed slowly into the seat by the computer. ‘I thought you were dead,’ he muttered in Russian.
‘We need your help, Pierre,’ I said, also in Russian.
‘Help for what?’ He glanced towards the door. ‘That man . . . who is he?’
‘He’s a Pathfinder,’ I said. ‘One of the people we stole the new Hypersphere from. What were you and Herr Frank doing here?’
‘I needed to run some final checks, so he brought me here so I could use my own equipment. They won’t let me out of their sight.’ He nodded towards the window. ‘The Tsar is on his way here.’
I gaped at him. ‘Here? You mean he’s coming to the Crag?’ He nodded. ‘I was surprised myself. I thought they would simply ship the Hypersphere back to the First Republic, but evidently not. Instead, Tsar Nicholas apparently intends to test the artefact here.’
I shook my head in amazement. Maybe Borodin had been listening to me.
‘Your father,’ he asked me. ‘Did both of you survive, or just . . . ?’
I shook my head. ‘He set the containment systems to blow, but he insisted on staying at the controls until I was gone. I tried to get him to come with me, but . . .’
‘Ah.’ Pierre nodded, crestfallen. ‘A terrible, terrible pity.’ Then: ‘Why did you come back, Katya?’
‘To keep the Tsar from activating the Hypersphere. Why else?’
I heard the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs and tensed. Casey stepped through the door, looking flushed and breathing heavily. ‘I shoved the body in that storeroom downstairs. There’s still blood everywhere, but it’s dark enough that anyone looking for him might miss it.’
‘The slip of paper,’ I asked him, switching back to English. ‘Did he have it?’
He patted a breast pocket. ‘Got it. How long before someone wonders where he’s got to?’
‘Not long,’ Pierre replied, also in English. ‘You’re a Pathfinder, I gather?’
Casey nodded.
‘How fascinating,’ said Pierre. ‘There are so many questions I could ask you.’
‘Where are the rest of the exiles?’ I asked.
‘All sent away,’ said Pierre, ‘to some distant penal colony. They’re only keeping me around because they need at least one person with the necessary technical expertise. They have what they want, after all – a functional, calibrated Hypersphere.’
I stepped closer to him. ‘We need to finish what Josef started, Pierre. Will you help us?’
‘I don’t know how I could,’ he said, looking bewildered.
‘First of all, tell me what all the activity on the upper terraces is. They’re building something, aren’t they? We could hear the noise from all the way down in the forest.’
‘The hall housing the Crag’s main transfer stage is too small for their needs,’ Pierre expl
ained. ‘They’re reconstructing it outside, in the courtyard across from the interrogation block. They’ve been shipping in new equipment non-stop to replace everything destroyed in the explosion.’
‘The interrogation block?’ Casey looked at me. ‘Isn’t that where you said they were keeping Jerry?’
I nodded. ‘I’m afraid so.’
Casey scowled. ‘It’s going to make it a lot tougher for the others to bust him out with all that activity going on right next to it.’
‘I’m glad you survived,’ Pierre said to me, ‘but . . . you really shouldn’t have come back, Katya.’
I turned back to him. ‘Why do they need a transfer stage? The Hypersphere can take the Tsar anywhere he wants. He doesn’t need a stage.’
‘My understanding is he’s bringing a considerable entourage with him,’ explained Pierre. ‘I’m also given to understand he’s in no fit state to travel unaccompanied to some unknown alternate. When he first lays hands on the Hypersphere, we’ll extract the coordinates it generates, then shut it down again before it can transport him there. Then we’ll feed the coordinates into the transfer stage. That way, his medical support team can go with him.’
I nodded. That, at least, explained why they were keeping Pierre around. ‘And the Hypersphere is where?’ I asked.
‘They’ve moved it outdoors, next to the new stage,’ said Pierre.
‘What about him?’ asked Casey, nodding at the old man. ‘We can’t just leave him here.’
‘If we can trust anyone,’ I said, ‘we can trust him.’
‘Yeah, but what’s he going to say when they come looking for Herr Frank and he’s nowhere to be found? Or worse, if they find his body?’
‘I can stall for time,’ said Pierre. ‘I’ll tell them he left me here and never came back.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ I said. ‘Casey?’
Casey looked unsure. ‘Maybe we should take him with us,’ he said.
‘I’m afraid I would only slow you down,’ said Pierre, indicating his walking stick.
‘He can hardly walk as it is,’ I said. ‘Come on, Casey. Let’s go. We’re wasting time.’
Casey’s hand twitched next to his holster, and for a moment I feared he was thinking of killing the old man. But then he shook his head irritably and nodded towards the door. ‘Fine then. Let’s go.’
‘You’ll be all right?’ I asked Pierre, as I made to follow Casey.
‘As much as I can be,’ he replied with a sad smile.
I caught the scent of blood once we were back outside, and I felt the gorge rise up the back of my throat. I leaned against a wall until the nausea passed.
‘Sorry,’ I said, pushing away from the wall. ‘I just . . .’
‘You don’t need to explain,’ said Casey.
I nodded upwards, letting Casey take the lead this time.
A few minutes later, we crouched at the base of a stairway. There were voices coming from just above us, speaking Russian. Herr Frank’s guards, most likely.
‘Is there any way around them?’ whispered Casey.
We ducked back as another transfer lit the air above the Crag. ‘There’s a second path running up the side of the Crag all the way to the top from here,’ I said, pointing down a nearby alley. ‘But I’m warning you, it was pretty derelict the last time I saw it.’
‘Lead the way,’ he said.
We detoured between two ramshackle old granaries until we came to the far end of the terrace we were on, and a gate that was more rust than iron. It was unlocked, but swung open with a shriek of protest that set my nerves on edge.
From what little I could see in the dim light emanating from the upper terraces, the path was in even worse shape than I remembered from the one time I had dared try to explore it, many years before. The steps were vertiginously steep, and here and there dense gorse blocked the path. And to make things even more difficult, a brick wall on the left of the path had entirely crumbled away in many places, exposing us to a straight drop down the side of the mountain. It would take only a single misplaced step in the dark to send one or both of us plummeting hundreds of metres to our doom.
Casey visibly baulked. ‘Are you sure we can get up there this way?’
‘At least we won’t get seen,’ I pointed out.
Casey shook his head, then took out the knife he had used to kill Herr Frank and began to hack a path through the gorse. We ended up covered in scratches regardless as we fought our way upwards, step by step. The stone underfoot was slick with moss, and as we struggled to ascend I wondered if coming this way had been a mistake after all. But we moved with care, and took our time, and after what felt like an eternity we passed a second gate on our right.
‘Not long to go,’ I gasped, stopping to rest. ‘Listen – there are some buildings on the terrace we’re headed for that haven’t been used in a long time. I think we should be able to get a clear view of the whole courtyard from inside them.’
Casey nodded, his face bleeding here and there from the gorse. ‘Sounds good,’ he said and began to make his way upwards once more. I forced myself to follow him, despite the terrible ache in my limbs.
We came to the end of the path, and a gate so badly rusted we had to climb over it and drop into the narrow alley on the other side. I caught sight of the transfer stage beyond the alley’s far end. I wondered if Nadia and the rest of the Pathfinders had discovered our absence yet.
We crouched in the shadows by the gate, watching as soldiers and workers moved around the stage. The air was filled with the sounds of industry. The buildings on either side of us appeared to be as empty as I remembered: their windows were barred, and the nearest door on our right, facing into the alley, was padlocked. Another door slightly farther along the alley, however, did not appear to be locked. I moved towards it, keeping low, and tested it. It swung open easily.
Casey followed me inside. It proved to be devoid of any furniture. The air was filled with the distinctive aroma of bat guano. Something fluttered past my face, making me jump.
‘Jesus!’ Casey hissed, ducking slightly as a bat flew past us and out the open door. ‘First sign of an empty coffin, and I’m out of here.’
We made our way over to a stone staircase set against the far wall, and ascended to the second floor. We found it crammed full of junked furniture and unused metal shelving units. A single window, however, gave us an excellent view across the brightly lit courtyard below. Casey dropped down with his back against the wall on one side of the window while I risked a look outside, keeping myself low.
The transfer stage was bigger than I’d expected. It had to be at least five metres across, and surrounded by powerful floodlights that shone down on it. I saw the spark of a welding-torch; they still hadn’t quite finished constructing it.
As I watched, a sudden pulse of light filled the stage. When it cleared, there was an open-bed truck there, with an industrialsized generator mounted on its rear. The arm of a mobile crane swung out over the stage while men in overalls hurried to hook the generator up to the crane. They shouted to each other as the generator was lifted up from the truck before being gently lowered onto the cobblestones by the side of the stage.
I finally caught sight of the Hypersphere, mounted on a low platform around the far side of the stage. Two imperial guards armed with machine guns stood on either side of it, while a technician sat at a control rig a few metres to one side. Closer to hand I saw a couple of multi-legged reconnaissance drones standing on the cobbles.
Casey raised himself up to take a quick look. ‘There’s got to be some way to get those two guys out of the way,’ he said, nodding to the imperial guards.
‘I don’t see how.’ It struck me then just how daunting our task was. The whole area was not only brightly lit, but well-guarded. I couldn’t see any way for us to get near the Hypersphere without the alarm being immediately raised.
‘Well, we’ve got to think of something,’ he said, turning to peer at me with a curious intensity. �
�Maybe what we need is some kind of a distraction.’
I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. ‘Such as?’
He licked his lips. ‘Well . . . judging by what I can see out there, I could probably circle around to the far side of the courtyard by sneaking through the rest of these buildings, assuming they’re all as unoccupied as this one is. That way I could work my way around until I was behind those two guys.’
‘That would get you closer to the Hypersphere,’ I agreed, ‘but it still won’t be enough. The Tsar’s imperial guards are fanatics, Casey. They’ll defend that thing to the death. You’d never get near it.’
‘But if you could draw their attention for long enough, I might have a chance to do just that.’
I stared at him. ‘Didn’t you hear what I just said?’ I hissed. ‘Those two guards aren’t just going to abandon the damn thing! And it’s still locked in its cage. Do you really think you’d have time to enter the code and unlock it before every single guard in the Crag descended on you?’
‘None of them,’ he said with a malicious grin, ‘is expecting me. Trust me, I know how to take these guys out. But it would help a lot if you could distract them somehow.’
I understood for the first time that it wasn’t Casey’s plan that was insane – it was Casey. ‘How, exactly?’ I asked, a leaden weight filling my gut.
He looked around. ‘There’s plenty of stuff you could throw out of the window to get their attention. Maybe shout and wave your hands – but not until I’ve circled all the way round.’
‘You want me to be your . . . your decoy?’
He gave me a frank look. ‘Sure, why not? We still both get what we want – I get the Hypersphere, and you get rid of it forever, right?’
‘I’m beginning to understand,’ I said in a level voice, ‘why the Pathfinders all hate you.’
‘You don’t stay alive by winning popularity contests,’ he grunted.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I think your proposal is the single stupidest, most idiotic plan I have ever heard.’
