by Gary Gibson
‘There’s no point,’ Luc agreed, ‘unless the killer was operating under a time restriction. For some reason, he or she wanted to delay the discovery that Sevgeny had been murdered.’
‘And why in God’s name would they do that?’ Cripps protested.
Luc forced himself to meet the man’s eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But it’s worth thinking about.’
It occurred to Luc that Cheng and his cronies could decide to blame him for Vasili’s murder, and no one would ever dare challenge it or demand supporting evidence of any kind. The idea squeezed his lungs like a steel vice, making it hard to breathe.
‘Before I go any further,’ he said, ‘I need to know who you think could have done this, whether or not you think you can prove it?’
It was almost comical, the way they regarded each other furtively.
‘That’s a very nearly endless list,’ said Zelia, her voice impatient. ‘Enmities can run pretty deep here.’
‘Zelia,’ said Karlmann Sandoz, a note of warning in his voice. ‘He’s a stranger here.’
‘He needs to know these things if he’s to do his job properly,’ Zelia snapped.
Luc tried not to think about what would happen if she and the rest of them realized he was entirely aware of everything they were scripting to each other. ‘Councilman Begum suggested Vasili might have been killed by someone outside of the Council,’ said Luc. ‘Is there any way someone could sneak through the Hall of Gates without being detected?’
‘To say that would be impossible is not an exaggeration,’ de Almeida replied firmly.
‘Who’s in charge of security?’
‘Planetary security is the responsibility of Miss de Almeida,’ Cheng informed him.
‘Which is why,’ Zelia added, ‘I’m qualified to know what I’m talking about. Anyone invited to Vanaheim who isn’t a member of the Council gets assigned their own dedicated mechant, all of which report directly to me – including the one that brought you here.’
‘But who else is involved in the security operation?’
‘Only me,’ Zelia replied, one of her cheek muscles twitching. ‘Everything runs on dedicated AI systems coordinated through my lattice.’
‘Surely that’s a lot of responsibility for just one person?’
‘Mr Gabion,’ Alicia interjected, ‘Vanaheim is our model for the future – the way every world in the Tian Di will be, one day. Maintaining surveillance on a whole world isn’t so hard for even just one person, if you have access to Council-approved levels of technology, and the systems Zelia controls are sufficiently transparent they only rarely require direct or even conscious intervention.’
‘But it’s clearly not infallible,’ Luc pointed out.
Alicia’s smile faltered slightly, and she glanced towards Father Cheng. ‘Perhaps not entirely, no,’ she admitted after a moment’s hesitation.
‘Let’s not discount the possibility,’ grated Cripps, ‘that there’s nothing wrong with the surveillance systems whatsoever.’
Luc saw de Almeida’s nostrils flare. ‘This is why I wanted someone outside of the Council here,’ she said, her voice strained. ‘We’re already descending into making accusations against each other without proof, and this close to Reunification we have better things to do than use Sevgeny’s murder as an excuse to settle old grudges. I’ll tell you one thing – whoever is responsible for this had a solid working knowledge of the planet-wide security networks. And they spent a lot of time in preparation – video loops and false data were fed into this house’s memory, making it appear as if everything were normal.’
Luc studied de Almeida’s features, seeing the mask-like tightness of her face as she spoke. She surely must have realized her high-level access to Vanaheim’s security networks made her a strikingly obvious suspect.
‘If I may,’ asked Luc, speaking up as de Almeida fell silent, ‘did no one notice that Vasili was missing?’
‘They had noticed,’ said Alicia. ‘But Sevgeny had become something of a loner over the past several decades. He was closely involved in preparations for Reunification, so when he failed to turn up for a few meetings, it didn’t really seem all that unusual.’ She swallowed. ‘I know this must seem strange to you, that no one thought to fly out here and see if he was all right, but you must understand that all of us within the Council have lived very, very long lives, and one thing you learn to do over such long periods of time is to leave each other alone. With his mechants, his own security and Zelia’s networks to protect him as well as the rest of us, there was no reason to be alarmed . . . until now.’
A short silence fell, finally broken by Father Cheng. ‘Is there anything else you would like to ask us, Mr Gabion?’
‘Not at the moment, thank you, Father Cheng,’ Luc replied. ‘But perhaps if I could take a look around, if that’s all right by you . . . ?’
‘Of course,’ said Cheng, nodding. ‘But do remember,’ he added, ‘that I would be far from happy if you were to discuss what you’ve learned today outside of our present company.’
‘Of course,’ Luc nodded.
Cheng turned to the rest. ‘As badly as I feel for poor Sevgeny,’ he said, ‘I think we might also consider this a test for our collective wills, so close to our Reunification with the Coalition. One day, when Black Lotus are finally vanquished and our society reaches a state of true social harmony, everyone in the Tian Di will live the way all of us here do.’
He glanced first at Cripps, and then Luc, before continuing. ‘Please don’t allow me, or anyone else, to unduly influence your opinion when it comes to identifying the responsible party, but I must confess that I find it less than credible that one member of the Temur Council would willingly take the life of another. Despite Zelia’s certainty to the contrary, that leads us to an apparent impossibility – that someone from outside our closed ranks perpetuated the crime. At the very least, this implies a serious flaw in our security arrangements – one that must be taken care of immediately.’
Cheng never once glanced towards de Almeida as he made this final remark, but Luc did not fail to notice the way her cheek once again spasmed as the Permanent Chairman of the Temur Council effectively accused her of sleeping on the job.
‘We’re eventually going to have to tell the rest of the Council what happened to Sevgeny,’ said Borges. ‘That’s going to cause an almighty ruckus.’
‘Not to mention we have only a couple of weeks before the official opening of the Darwin–Temur gate,’ added Begum.
‘That’s where you come in, Mr Gabion,’ said de Almeida, clearly fighting to maintain her composure. ‘Father Cheng has agreed to allow you limited access to Vanaheim’s resources, under my custodianship, until we’ve completed this investigation. We can start immediately.’
‘Your custodianship?’ scoffed Borges, who stepped forward until he was facing Cheng. ‘Surely, with so much access to our security networks, Zelia had the most opportunity to kill Sevgeny!’
‘That assumes,’ Zelia spat back, ‘you can identify a motive on my part. I’m sure when it comes to motives, Ruy, nobody here would lack for recognizing a serious fucking desire on your part to see Sevgeny dead.’
Cheng scripted, and the flow of words fell away.
‘Without wanting to distract you from your purpose here, Mr Gabion,’ said Cheng, ‘I understand you’re something of an expert on Black Lotus. Perhaps I could ask you for your opinion concerning them?’
‘Of course, Father Cheng.’
‘How much, if at all, have Black Lotus been harmed by Winchell Antonov’s death?’
‘There are still too many varia
bles as yet to be able to say in the short-term, Father Cheng,’ Luc replied. ‘At the very least, Aeschere constitutes a major propaganda coup for us.’
‘And in the long-term?’
‘In the long-term, I don’t think they can really survive without his guidance.’
‘Yet Black Lotus retains considerable popular support on both Benares and Acamar. In the days following the announcement of Antonov’s demise, fresh atrocities were carried out against Sandoz peacekeeping forces on both worlds. The reports I receive from SecInt tell me that new Black Lotus cells are popping up all across Temur at an increasing rate, some within view of the White Palace itself. What would you say if I were to suggest that they are, in fact, stronger than they have ever been?’
‘Father Cheng, this man does not have clearance to be cognisant of the full facts concerning—’
Cheng shot an angry glare at Karlmann Sandoz, who had spoken up. ‘I want his answer, Karlmann,’ Cheng snapped, interrupting him. ‘Do you have an objection?’
Karlmann shook his head and said no more.
‘Well, Mr Gabion?’ Cheng continued. ‘I’m concerned that Antonov’s death has done nothing more than turn him into a martyr.’
Luc ran his tongue around his lips. ‘The problem lies in the underlying root causes of the dissatisfaction that Black Lotus feeds on,’ he said. ‘The unrest on Benares, the failure of the artificial ecosystem on Acamar . . . people want someone to blame.’
Luc felt suddenly dizzy, and stepped closer to one of the bookcases in order to support himself. Everything was turning bright, while a tiny point of fire in the centre of his skull slowly expanded outwards.
‘Surely the fact that we’ve enjoyed unprecedented peace for centuries counts for more,’ Cheng demanded.
‘I . . .’
‘Mr Gabion?’ Zelia stepped forward and grabbed his arm. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m not sure. I . . .’
The fire expanded to fill the interior of his skull. He lurched, feeling a surge of bile rush up the back of his throat.
Not now. He reached out to the bookcase, trying to steady himself. His hand clutched at several heavy volumes, and they clattered to the floor around him as he sank to his knees.
‘Gabion?’
He opened his eyes and saw de Almeida kneeling beside him, a look of alarm on her face.
This can’t be happening again, he thought. Somewhere inside him, something was seriously wrong.
FIVE
The next few hours passed in a blur. Luc had a vague recollection of being lifted out of the building by the two mechants set to guard Vasili’s body. After that there had been a journey by flier, during which he drifted in and out of consciousness.
The next time he really became aware of his surroundings, he found himself looking up at the high ceiling of a circular room that had to be at least thirty metres across. The ceiling was decorated with highly stylized depictions of astronomical symbols and of several Tian Di worlds, all wheeling around a stone pillar at the room’s centre. An iron stairway twisted around the pillar like a braid, rising through an aperture in the ceiling to another floor above. Bright sunlight spilled through an open doorway at the far end of the room, through which he could make out bristling reddish-green flora. Steps nearby led down, perhaps to some basement level.
Luc sat up with a groan, supporting himself with one hand, and found he had been placed on a broad, raised slab. A small wheeled trolley, loaded with trays of sharp-looking surgical instruments, had been placed next to him.
The rest of the room was crammed with cabinets of various shapes and sizes, and pieces of mostly unidentifiable equipment and machinery, as well as an industrial-sized fabricant that took up nearly a third of the room. A mechant hovered by the fabricant’s control panel, suggesting it was engaged in manufacturing its own replacement components.
The rush of agony that had overwhelmed him back in Vasili’s library had now faded to little more than a faint and distant throb. He swung his legs off the slab and the room reeled around him. Catching hold of the edge of the slab, he waited until the worst of the dizziness had passed, then lowered his feet to the ground and stood gently.
He felt too light to be back on Temur. More than likely, he was still on Vanaheim. But wherever he was, the climate was much warmer than it had been on Vasili’s island.
Something went thump on the far side of the room.
Luc tensed, listening, then heard the same sound again after an interval of maybe twenty seconds. It sounded like someone dropping a sack of grain onto the room’s tiled floor.
He moved with caution in the direction the sound had come from, keeping one hand out in case he took another dizzy turn. He stepped past a cabinet at the other side of the room, not far from the exit, and found himself looking at a shaven-headed man standing facing the wall, bent-over as if studying something lying on the floor. His arms hung straight down, knuckles nearly grazing the tiles.
‘Hello?’ Luc asked uncertainly.
No answer.
The man wore a shapeless and filthy smock that reached down to his bare feet, and stood perfectly still, as if his bones had locked into place and he could no longer stand straight.
‘Hello?’ Luc asked again. ‘Can you tell me where I am?’
No answer. Somehow he hadn’t really expected one.
He watched as the bent figure took a sudden step forward, banging his head into the wall with some force.
Despite a burgeoning sense of dread, Luc stepped closer, putting one hand on the man’s shoulder and pulling him around. Instead of eyes, grey metal ovals studded with pin-like extensions protruded from between the man’s eyelids, while much of his lower jaw had been removed entirely and replaced with some kind of machinery with a steel grille built into the front. His flesh was mottled and twisted where it had been fused to plastic and metal.
A moan emerged from the creature’s mouth-grille, full of terrible pain and unfathomable anguish.
Luc stumbled backwards, his heart hammering with shock. The misshapen figure turned away from him once more and resumed ramming its head against the wall.
Luc fled, running through the sunlit exit, desperate to get away from the misshapen creature. But rather than finding himself outside as he had expected, he instead found himself standing at one end of a greenhouse filled with a stunning variety of flora. The air tasted moist and peaty.
He shaded his eyes against the sunlight streaming in through the panes overhead and saw Zelia de Almeida standing further down a narrow path. A mechant hovered by her side, a straw basket incongruously clutched in one of its many manipulators. He watched as de Almeida took a small cutting from the branch of a tree, placing it in the basket.
The tree shivered in response, its lower branches weaving in slow patterns that somehow suggested distress. De Almeida reached out again, grasping hold of a slim branch. It tried to pull away from her, but she had too firm a hold on it. He watched as she snipped the branch off with a small pair of secateurs.
The tree shivered more violently than before, and Zelia murmured something inaudible to the mechant. In that same moment, another faceless monstrosity, identical to the one Luc had just encountered, appeared at the far end of the path, another straw basket clutched in its hand.
Luc watched dry-mouthed as the figure shambled along a connecting path, and out of sight.
‘Ah, there you are.’
He looked back at Zelia. She was peeling off a pair of gloves, dropping them into the mechant’s basket.
‘Where am I?’ he asked.
Zelia gestured to the mechant, and it moved down the path away from him. ‘I brought you to my home,’ she replied, stepping towards him. ‘Call me paranoid, but I didn’t want to take a chance somebody might have interfered with you.’
She placed one hand on his shoulder and guided him back through to
the circular room he had just come from.
‘Back up, please,’ she said, leading him back over to the raised slab. Her manner was brisk and business-like.
Another thump echoed from across the room, but Zelia showed no sign of even being aware of it.
‘What the hell is that thing?’ Luc demanded, unable to hide his revulsion.
‘What thing?’ asked Zelia.
‘The man with no eyes.’
She glanced behind her with mild puzzlement, then back at him. ‘Ah,’ she said, nodding. ‘Nothing to worry about. Just an experiment.’
‘An experiment,’ Luc repeated. ‘What kind of experiment?’
‘One that needn’t concern you,’ she replied briskly. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I’ve already treated us both for radiation damage.’
He gestured back in the direction of the eyeless thing. ‘But . . .’
She flashed him an angry look. ‘We’re not here to discuss my private research,’ she snapped. ‘I want to find out what happened to you back there at Vasili’s. How much do you remember, from when you collapsed?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘One minute everything was fine, the next . . .’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve never experienced anything like it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Well . . . something like it happened to me back on Temur, just after they brought me back from Aeschere.’
She nodded, as if this had been the answer she had been expecting. ‘I checked your records as soon as I had the chance, but the medicians attending to you couldn’t identify a cause for that first seizure. Is that correct?’
He nodded.
Luc stared at her, unsure how to respond.
A look of grim satisfaction spread across her face.
