Angel Stations

by Gary Gibson

  ‘Bill,’ she said, ‘I don’t need lectures.’ And with that, an image sprang into her mind: a grinning face with a bright red shock of hair. Then the same face shouting at her to get out, and she pushed it down, hard, hard.

  ‘I still have some distillate of the memories I need,’ she said, picturing the vials of precious liquid in her mind, tucked away in her quarters.

  The distillate technology allowed raw memories to be siphoned in liquid form from a person’s bioware and turned into Books – small, easily digested pills. Anyone else with the same bioware could then consume these pills, and thereby relive the memories and experiences of whoever the distillate had originally been taken from.

  Having the bioware, Kim had found, was the easy part. Getting the raw distillate turned into something she could actually use was an entirely different matter. The distilleries were astonishingly expensive – and very hard to get access to if you didn’t have fully authorized documentation. There was one on board the Station, in a highly secure area to which she, as a regular civilian, did not have access.

  There were ways, of course. Bill was one of those ways. She had enough distillate to last her a long time, but the levels of bribery involved in getting the Books processed into a usable form meant she could only afford to have relatively few manufactured at a time.

  ‘As long as they’re keeping those artefacts up there in Command, they’ll be watching everybody going in and out of there like a hawk. But I might be able to do something for you – if you can do something for me. A favour?’

  Kim regarded Bill with a wary expression. ‘What kind of favour?’

  He reached into his pocket and brought out a tiny plastic case. ‘I knew you’d been looking for me, and heard you’d just got back. It’s like this.’ His voice dropped to a semi-conspiratorial whisper, and she leaned towards him a little. ‘I’m not telling you who made the find because if it gets out, it might end up being traced back to me. Seems someone working inside Command suggested a little unofficial deal. If they could be provided with a tiny quantity of the memory distillate, the person who made the discovery got a little cash above and beyond what the joint Government committees might provide.’

  Kim nodded. She could well imagine what untried – even alien – memory distillate could fetch on the black market, especially when the official channels wouldn’t be able to match the price.

  ‘Well, that person talked to the rock hermit in question, and then that same person talked to me, and then we had a couple of drops of that distillate made into Books. Unfortunately, you’re the only person around here who’s got the necessary read/write bioware to tell us what’s in them without crying wolf. So how about a couple of those to tide you over?’

  Kim felt like crying. ‘Bill, this isn’t something you snort or stick in your arm. For God’s sake, it’s chemical Books. It’s memories and experiences. It’s not a drug, it doesn’t work the same way.’

  ‘Baby,’ he said, ‘it’s all about escape, one way or another, isn’t it?’ he said, smiling. Kim said nothing, knowing he was perfectly right, dead on target. It was always about escape – only the means varied. But knowing that made no difference to her own very real need.

  ‘Look,’ he said, keeping his voice soft and low, ‘you know how it works out there, bouncing from rock to rock with nothing to do but talk to a bunch of other deranged Goblin jockeys. There are no secrets. And these guys,’ he said, nodding discreetly towards a bunch of military-looking types sitting at the far end of the bar, ‘are no better. Information gets bought and sold out here, same as anywhere else. So, I get to hear things: like they think the raw distillate they discovered might be the real thing, real Angel memories. Not animals, or dinosaurs or whatever, but actual Angel memories. Think about it, Kim. I heard they found this stuff frozen in a block, like amber, still viable after God knows how many millions of years. Maybe including memories of the things that built this place – maybe. That’s the kind of Books I’m talking about. There are always people from the . . .’ Bill scratched his cheek, apparently looking for the right words. ‘. . . the private sector who want to know what’s in them.’

  ‘You mean criminals,’ Kim said carefully.

  Bill leaned back, studied her. ‘That I can get my hands on right now. The other kind, you’re going to have to wait for.’ He smiled, shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

  Four

  Roke

  There was a tower Roke liked to visit on mornings like this. It stood at the eastern limit of the high-walled valley in which the city of Tibe stood. The walls of the valley fell away to the north, spreading wider and lower to provide space for a network of wide-bodied rivers that led to the Great Northern Sea. As you approached by ship from the north, you saw the city of Tibe spread before you, between wide, rounded hills that rose gradually behind the city to the mountainous terrain of Southern Tisane. But first you saw the mass of the Emperor’s Rock, rising from near the centre of the city: a great lump of basalt on which the palace stood, home to kings and despots and lunatics since the beginning of time. It was impossible to walk through the streets of the city below, and not crane your neck up to see the Emperor’s home, balanced there as if by magic.

  Where Roke now stood, in a tall whitestone tower on one of the high hills that embraced the metropolis like great encircling arms, the Emperor’s Rock rose slightly to the right of his vantage point. This far up the valley wall, you were almost – but not quite – level with the palace itself. To Roke’s left were ships coming into port or sailing out to sea. Most of them were warships; even the merchant ships mostly carried military supplies these days. This was a sight that had stunned Roke the first time he had seen it, when he had been brought here as a captive more than half a lifetime ago. He had believed he would die, horribly, for resisting the armies of Xan. And now, here he was, one of the Emperor’s most trusted advisors.

  However.

  Bright sunlight fell through the clouds that tumbled down from the high mountains to the south, bathing Roke in sudden warmth. It was not enough to lift his mood, though. The meeting was scheduled for that evening, after most of the city’s inhabitants had retired for the night. Always, after nightfall, the Shai came, and Xan consorted with devils out of a child’s fairytale or some story taken from the great Book of some flea-bitten city’s history. Even so, the Shai frightened Roke, frightened him to the core, for although it was like nothing else in the world, strange and alien, it seemed to Roke that behind its words hid other intents.

  Roke had attempted to speak to the Emperor about his concerns, but Xan had only seemed to half-listen. The Emperor Xan, after all, was the conqueror of the known world, the reincarnation of the Fidhe. Roke, for all his respected status within the court, was still at heart a refugee from a captured city. There were many in Tibe who would be reluctant to let him forget this.

  – Master Roke.

  Roke stiffened, but did not turn. He did not wish to see the figure that had appeared behind him. He did not know the creature’s name, but it seemed apt to think of it simply as the Monster. He felt, rather than saw, its ravaged face staring out at him from the shadows by the stairwell.

  – I can see why you like it up here, it said. – It reminds me a little of a place I once knew.

  Roke looked down to where the hills descended below the tower, all the way down to the distant streets. He could hardly imagine what world such a phantom might call home. ‘I find it peaceful here,’ said Roke.

  – Ah. Peace. All intelligent beings seek peace. Even I.

  Roke forced himself to turn around and look. ‘The Emperor’s men have sought out the god from the city at the edge of the world, and are preparing an assault. There is no sign as yet that the god has been removed from the city without our knowledge.’ Roke cleared his throat. ‘But then, you have foreseen that this will happen, haven’t you?’

  – I have, yes. It’s why I’m here, Master Roke.

  The Shai’s voice was not unlike the voice of a god
, that same spill of images or suggestions of faded memories half-remembered that somehow translated into comprehensible words. His lips moved, speaking the language, Roke presumed, of the Shai, though he could hear no actual sound pass from the Shai’s lips.

  But not a god. Roke had to remember that. Something else, altogether, that had come here to Tibe, travelling over some unimaginable distance that Roke suspected he could not possibly comprehend. Roke and the Shai had spoken several times now – here, in this tower, where he knew they would not be disturbed.

  It had taken some time for Roke to reach the point where he could believe the monstrous Shai when it claimed it stood against the other Shai he had witnessed appearing before the Emperor Xan and his court. The monster could genuinely see into the future, and nothing it had predicted had failed to take place.

  ‘Then tell me,’ said Roke.

  – Your Emperor is going to send you northwest of the Teive mountains, said the Shai.

  ‘North of Nubala.’ Roke’s throat was suddenly dry.

  – He wants you to look for something. You will find it, but it will be too late for Xan.

  Roke nodded, staring out across the roofs of Tibe for long seconds.

  ‘Remind me why I should trust you more than the other Shai.’

  – Because that one does not have your best interests at heart, soothed the creature.

  ‘The other Shai has brought technology and science to our Empire. It . . . it says it wants to help us.’

  The creature bared its teeth. They were black and broken, a nightmare vision which Roke found unnerving. – Come, Master Roke. You’ve already described to me your misgivings about the company the Emperor has been keeping.

  ‘But you don’t tell me why you wish to destroy this Shai, or any of the others you have told me about. Why would you war against your own kind?’

  – Perhaps because they did this to me, Master Roke. Because I discern the lie in what they say. And I tell you that if you do not do as I describe, your people are quite genuinely doomed. The Shai have anything but your best interests at heart. You already know this, even if Xan is not prepared to accept it.

  ‘So.’ Roke paused, trying to collect his thoughts. He would walk into the council meeting tonight filled with lies. He only hoped Xan and Feren, the Emperor’s spy-master, would not be able to read them through his skin. ‘I am to go north, you say?’

  – Yes. And when you get there, there is something you must do.

  ‘Which is?’

  And then the Shai told him more than he ever wanted to know. It was a dispiriting and terrible thing to find out the true nature of your world. That truth wasn’t an easy burden to carry, but Roke was made of stern stuff. He’d fought in battle side by side with Xan, first as an opponent and then later as an ally, once Xan had won him over and they had become friends. He, Roke, would prevail. As Xan would prevail. As perhaps the Empire would prevail, despite its recent losses. And he came to understand that the Shai was, indeed, correct when it said Roke would know what had to be done.

  And when this meeting was over, when the twisted form of the Shai, with its bent and broken teeth, faded gradually once more into the shadows of the stairwell, like a phantom from a nightmare fading into nothing, and Roke was again alone, then he knew it was time to prepare for that evening.

  Xan had summoned him – and, it was reasonable to assume, Utma and all the others – to a meeting with the Shai. Roke picked his way down the long, spiralling stone stairs, thinking about what the Monster had just said.

  Elias

  Elias watched as Hollis came out of the building and walked over to a private car. An expensive one, Elias could see; it even had manual drive, judging by the steering wheel visible through the windscreen. As Hollis started to climb in, Elias stepped forward out of the shadows, sliding the flechette gun from his sleeve, guiding it between his fingers until it was firmly in his hand. He reached out as Hollis bent to get into the car and pressed the muzzle against the side of the man’s neck. When Hollis jerked back, Elias gripped his arm and whispered at him to continue getting in.

  ‘Elias.’

  ‘Get in, Hollis. Then we can talk.’

  Elias then pulled the rear door open and slid in behind him, keeping the gun pointed at Hollis’s ear. The man moaned with fear, turning white as the cold metal of its muzzle touched his ear.

  ‘You were behind that, Hollis? You’re really up to your neck in something this time, aren’t you?’

  ‘It wasn’t what you think. Put the gun away, I’ll explain.’

  ‘I’ll keep it right here, thanks. So start explaining or say goodbye to your head.’

  Hollis’ breath was loud, ragged. ‘I’m not the only one whose neck is on the block, Elias. I’m not your enemy. Without me, you’ll never get out of London alive.’

  Out of London alive – that was what it came down to, now? The city was a world in itself, sprawling across the entire southeast of England; huge, implacable. But he’d seen what was on the diskette Josh had given him.

  ‘If I hadn’t been lucky, Hollis, I’d be dead right now, thanks to you, so I really wouldn’t go making any threats. The Mala Pata knew I was snitching on them, and you handed me over to them on a plate. So here’s my idea: you tell me why the fuck somebody wants to take Trencher offworld, and I’ll let you live. And don’t think you can get away from me, because I’ve got plenty of friends who owe me really big favours, friends who make the Mala Pata look like play time at the fucking nursery.’

  Hollis swallowed; he was a policeman, after all, and knew all too well that Elias wasn’t lying.

  What rankled with Elias was how Hollis had managed to blackmail him for so long. Do what I tell you, Hollis had told him, or I hand you over to the City Authority. Except now Elias knew exactly how corrupt Hollis really was, and how careless. That threat was almost certainly empty. If Hollis had ever blown the whistle, he himself would never have seen daylight again, the instant Elias opened his mouth.

  ‘We’re going to circle round for a while,’ said Elias.

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘We’ll get to that. For now, take it off manual.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Take it to the Camden Maze.’

  The car pulled out.

  ‘You’re in trouble, aren’t you?’ said Elias.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ – and the policeman’s candour surprised him – ‘a lot of trouble. But you’d better understand something, Elias. We’re both in this together, whether you like it or not. They’ll get rid of you even quicker than they do anything about me. And I can pull strings, which you can’t.’

  ‘Josh clearly knew everything, everything. And now the Mala Pata and half of London believe I can’t be trusted. The only place they could have found anything out from was you.’ It was a statement rather than a question. But Hollis nodded, and Elias felt a grim sense of satisfaction.

  ‘Here’s what I think happened, Hollis. You’ve been bleeding blackmail money out of me for years now, just so I can keep the City Authority from finding out where I am. The way I see it, I think you then got scared you’d be caught so you set me up. Bad idea, Hollis, very bad. Because now I have nothing to lose.’

  ‘They don’t know about you,’ Hollis babbled, ‘but if I’m not around to help you, they’ll find out who you are and hand you back to the military. I won’t be able to protect you any more. So you need to disappear.’

  ‘Which reminds me,’ said Elias. ‘Stop just here.’

  As the car slowed Elias leaned over Hollis’s shoulder, and punched a series of commands into the car’s console. It moved off slowly, turning a corner into a quiet alley near the edge of the Camden Maze.

  ‘Take a look at this.’ Elias pulled out a crumpled smartsheet and dropped it onto Hollis’s lap, still keeping his gun pressed against the back of the policeman’s neck.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Hollis shakily.

  ‘Just look at it.’ Elias reached over Hollis’s shoulder, touching the smartsheet her
e and there. As information began to scroll down, a long sigh escaped Hollis’s lips.

  ‘See that?’ said Elias. ‘It’s a ship’s manifest. I got it from Josh – just before I killed him. Not an official manifest. It’s got details of where they kept him, where they’re moving him to.’ There were other things on the sheet. A pixellated image of a man being lowered into a deepsleep coffin, his body sprouting wires. Trencher.

  ‘I didn’t know about this, Elias. Really, I didn’t. You have to believe me.’

  ‘I thought Trencher was dead,’ snarled Elias, his voice rising. ‘All these years, I thought he was dead. And now I find he’s still alive – if you can call that living.’ He pushed the gun harder into the other man’s neck, forcing Hollis to lean forward under the pressure. ‘If you even intimate for one second you didn’t know about this, it’ll be the last thing you ever say. Does he know where he is – or what’s happening to him?’ Elias pressed his free hand over one side of his head; it felt like he had a headache. No . . . worse than that. Not now, he thought. Not here. The pain was growing.

  ‘I don’t know. We don’t have him anymore. He was given over to a private research group for storage and research. They said he died during procedures. That’s all I know, Elias, believe me.’

  ‘I don’t know, Hollis. You’ve always been a slippery little bugger, haven’t you? Maybe you’re still lying. Maybe I should just kill you.’

  ‘No.’ Hollis was weeping. Elias scowled, feeling sickened. His finger touched the trigger, and he pushed forward again until Hollis’s head was forced down even further. Pain filled one side of his skull. There were images, thoughts flickering in the back of his mind, unwelcome ghosts of people and places he’d never seen or been to, all crammed together in a meaningless jumble.

  Do it, thought Elias. He’s worthless, scum. The world would be a better place. Remember all the threats, all the living in fear.

  Elias shook his head, while staring in wonder at the corrupt policeman. ‘You people truly never fail to amaze me.’ He pulled the pistol back and hit Hollis twice, hard, in the back of the head. Hollis slumped, unconscious, face pressed against the console.