by Gary Gibson
‘Downstairs,’ Kulic replied, ‘in the cellar.’
‘I would like to see it, please,’ said Jacob, looking around. He hadn’t seen any sign of steps or a staircase leading down.
Kulic stepped towards the centre of the room, reaching down to pull a faded, hand-woven rug to one side and revealing a trapdoor with an iron ring set into it. Kulic pulled the trapdoor up with a grunt, revealing a short ladder leading downwards. A foul miasma rose from below, and Jacob covered his mouth, thinking that even the cave in the woods had been better than this.
Kulic climbed down the steps and out of sight. With a sigh, Jacob wrenched himself away from the stove’s welcoming heat and followed the old man down.
Farming implements hung from hooks all around the walls of the stone-floored cellar. Kulic lit a gas lantern hanging from a hook in the ceiling then, as Jacob watched, stepped over to a barrel that had been pushed into a corner, a rusted kettle and several dirty-looking rags dumped on top of it.
Kulic brushed all of this junk onto the floor, then lifted the lid from the barrel, which proved to be full of oily-looking water. He took hold of an almost invisibly thin thread hanging over the side of the barrel and pulled on it with extreme care, soon drawing a package wrapped in heavy oilskins up from the barrel’s depths before depositing it on the floor. Jacob watched as the old man carefully unwrapped the package to reveal a large wooden box.
‘Here,’ said Kulic, opening the box and lifting out a fist-sized device, passing it to Jacob with an uncertain grin. Something about his expression made Jacob think of a dog desperate for its master’s approval.
He studied the device by the dim light of the ceiling-mounted lantern. In outward appearance it looked like nothing more than a blunt, copper-plated sphere, but in reality it was a compact mass of molecular circuitry impervious to any but the most ruthless scan. It sang with information from the moment his fingers touched it, firing a blizzard of condensed data into his lattice that had the quality of long-held memories.
He looked up at Kulic. ‘I see you’ve been speaking to it, telling it everything that’s been happening?’
Kulic nodded, his expression full of awe. ‘Yes, just as my father asked me to. I . . . wondered if I was being a fool, talking to a piece of metal, as if it had ears.’ He looked at Jacob with hope. ‘It worked?’
‘Yes.’ Jacob nodded.
‘My father told me it could communicate with other worlds.’
Then he told you too much, thought Jacob, frowning. The device was indeed built to pick up instantaneous transmissions across space, regardless of distance, although the power consumption required to boost a signal across so many light-years without it dissolving into random noise was quite enormous. Along with news of events back on Temur as well as throughout the Tian Di, Jacob had in just these last moments received adjustments to his mission plan. Although his primary goal remained the same, there was now an added urgency to his purpose in being here.
‘The device tells me the Left-Behind split into factions, and that the more rigidly conservative faction became dominant.’
Kulic stared at the device nestled in Jacob’s hands with horrified fascination. ‘That little thing – it told you all that?’
The Left-Behind had briefly been a powerful force on the surviving colony worlds following the Abandonment, preaching that the artefacts responsible for turning every living thing on Earth to dust had been sent there by God, in order to gather the souls of mankind prior to a final judgement. The religion had eventually been outlawed throughout the Tian Di, but here in the Coalition followers were permitted to exist, so long as they remained far from the provenance of the cities.
‘You told the transceiver that Bruehl had begun to believe he was some kind of messiah, destined to lead the Left-Behind through the Founder Network.’
‘I still remember him from when I was much younger,’ said Kulic, nodding. ‘Before he died, my father told me Bruehl was responsible for setting up safe-houses for other Tian Di agents. Bruehl was tasked with penetrating the Coalition’s secure military networks, in order to find their weaknesses. But something happened.’
‘What?’
Kulic’s balding pate glistened under the dim light of the lantern. ‘He started telling people God was waiting for us up at the end of time, along with everyone else who’d been rescued when the angels razed Earth; he said that was why the Founder Network had been created, so that all sentient beings could find their way there. This went against the doctrine of the Church’s Elders and made them very unhappy.’
‘And your father? How did he feel about this?’
‘At first he thought Bruehl was insane, but I think my father had a great deal of trouble adjusting to life here. He married because it was expected of him, and it was his duty to fit in. I . . . realize now that I was nothing more than part of his cover, that he had never really wanted a child.’
‘He told you this?’
‘No.’ Kulic shook his head. ‘I worked some of it out for myself, once I knew the truth about him . . .’ His voice trailed off.
‘Go on,’ Jacob prompted.
‘I think my father committed suicide, in a way,’ Kulic finally said. ‘He changed his mind about Bruehl, and began to believe him. I think his new-found religious beliefs were a way to hide the truth from himself, that he no longer wanted to live.’
‘Bruehl had quite a few followers, I understand. Your father was only one of them.’
‘Yes, Bruehl had a great number of followers after a while. Even I was one. We all followed him when he left for the cities. He said he’d had a vision, that God would guide us through the Founder Network, and the Coalition wouldn’t be able to stand in our way.’
‘How many of you went with him?’
Kulic shrugged. ‘A thousand, perhaps. At that time I had no idea of my father’s true identity, and the same went for the other agents like Bruehl. When we left, the Elders condemned us for our actions.’ The old man stopped, gazing wistfully into the distance.
‘And?’
‘And we never even reached the cities. First Bruehl and my father started fighting, and before long the people who’d followed them started to take sides.’ Kulic shook his head. ‘Folks around here don’t like to speak about those days any more, but I was there. A few hundred continued on with Bruehl, while the rest followed my father back home. But not all of us were allowed back in – old scores were being settled, I suppose.’
‘And what happened to Bruehl?’
‘More people abandoned him and drifted back to their villages over the following days and weeks. As far as I know he managed to lead a few dozen as far as the nearest city, but all I know about what happened after that is rumour and conjecture. From what I heard,’ said Kulic, with an uncharacteristic touch of sarcasm, ‘they never reached the Founder Network, since God apparently failed to supply them with the necessary authorization to pass through a single transfer gate.’
As if even the Coalition would have wasted one moment listening to the ravings of madmen straggling in from some self-imposed backwater, branches and leaves clinging to their holy beards, thought Jacob. Learning about such things left a sour and unpleasant taste in his belly. He could only imagine that Bruehl and this man’s father must have been suffering from some shared psychosis they had somehow kept hidden during their mission training – a psychosis that had achieved full flower once they found themselves surrounded by people even crazier than themselves.
‘And Sillars? You haven’t said anything about what happened to him. Was he part of all this?’
Kulic shook his head. ‘No. Sillars didn’t believe like the others did.’
Jacob felt a flush of relief. ‘He stayed true to his mission?’
Kulic nodded. ‘He argued with Bruehl and my father before we headed for the cities. Bruehl got into a fight with Sillars, and . . .’ He licked his lips, eyes darting towards Jacob.
‘Go on.’
‘My father told me B
ruehl killed Sillars. Sillars was afraid Bruehl might compromise their mission and alert the Coalition authorities to their purpose here. I remember one particular night just before we set out, when my father took me to Sillar’s house. He had been stabbed, and was losing too much blood for even his microchines to cope. He died that same night. My father claimed it was God’s will, and told me I was never to tell anyone what had happened.’
‘That’s something I was wondering,’ said Jacob. ‘If they had become so fervent in their beliefs, then why in hell didn’t your father or Bruehl ever think to tell anyone else who they really were, where they’d come from?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kulic replied, shaking his head. ‘Maybe they were afraid of what might happen to them. But after Sillars’ murder, something went out of my father. It’s like he chose to pretend it hadn’t happened. But when he died, he told me the truth of what he was, and told me someone like you would come one day.’
Jacob stared at the old man with sick disgust. It was nearly unbelievable so much could have gone so badly wrong, but all the evidence was right there, in the transceiver gripped in his own hand. Kulic couldn’t have lied to it if he’d wanted to.
‘Doesn’t anyone from the cities ever come out here?’ asked Jacob.
Kulic shivered. ‘The people in the cities don’t care about us, and I’m glad of it. Sometimes they . . . they watch us, from a distance. But not in human form.’
Jacob stepped closer to him. ‘There’s something I need to find,’ said Jacob. ‘It’s the reason I was sent here, but it could mean travelling to one of the cities.’
Kulic stared back at him with bright damp eyes. ‘I can help you.’
‘You don’t like it here, do you?’ Jacob had been able to feel the old man’s hatred for the people he lived amongst, seeping through the words he had spoken to the transceiver, here in the quiet dark beneath his house.
‘I despise them all,’ said Kulic. ‘Ever since I learned of my father’s true nature, I realized why I never felt like I belonged. There are fewer and fewer of the Left-Behind each year – most of those houses you saw when we arrived have been boarded up and abandoned for a long, long time. There are scarcely any children born these days.’ Kulic swallowed. ‘Even so, the cities frighten me. I’m scared that if I went there, they might change me into something that isn’t really human.’
Jacob placed his hands on the old man’s shoulders, thinking how easy it would be to snap his neck in an instant. Instead he patted him.
‘Your father and his colleagues would have maintained a cache of equipment I can use,’ said Jacob. ‘Do you know of it, and where it’s located?’
In truth, he already knew where it was, thanks to the transceiver, but he wanted to test the old man, see if he told the truth. If he lied or acted evasive in any way, he would prove himself useless, and Jacob would be left with no alternative but to dispose of him immediately.
‘I know where it is,’ said Kulic. ‘It’s not far from here, buried at the bottom of an abandoned well.’
Just as well you told the truth, thought Jacob, patting Kulic’s shoulders one last time before stepping back and letting his hands fall by his side.
‘We’ll get some sleep and leave in the morning,’ said Jacob, and led the way back up the steps.
THIRTEEN
Luc arrived back at his apartment without incident and found several messages waiting for him from Eleanor. This time, instead of ignoring them he sent back an immediate response. He had a sudden desperate urge to see her, to hold her in his arms.
While he waited, he spent a few minutes checking up on Ambassador Sach’s movements. De Almeida’s networks showed him the Ambassador had most recently paid a visit to the Vanaheim residence of Meinhard Carter, another member of the Council.
When Luc tried to direct one of de Almeida’s countless micro-mechants to approach Carter’s home, he discovered the precise limits to how far de Almeida’s networks could reach, when it got to within only a few metres of a window before its signal faded to static. After that, it dropped permanently out of contact, presumably victim to Carter’s own army of personal security devices.
Luc thought again of all that Ambassador Sachs had said to him on board the Sequoia, including the revelation that the Ambassador had been able to see him during Vasili’s funeral service. Somehow Sachs tied into all of this, and it was clear the Ambassador knew far more than he was letting on.
Even so, he appeared to be doing nothing more than he might be expected to do – taking part in scheduled meetings and paving the way for Reunification, while perhaps also smoothing over the ripples caused by Vasili’s sudden disappearance from public view.
Despite the limitations de Almeida had placed on Luc’s access to her networks, he found he could nonetheless access a basic summary of Meinhard Carter’s role within the Council. It proved, however, to be bafflingly vague. Carter was involved in some kind of research and development, and chaired an advisory body on deep-space exploration. That advisory body included several other Councillors charged with constructing the starships used to carry new transfer gates between old and new colonies. Several of them had worked on Founder research prior to the Schism.
Whatever Carter’s current role in the Council might be, the Ambassador had caught him on what was apparently one of his rare visits to Vanaheim. And when Luc tried to find out where Meinhard Carter spent the rest of his time, he found himself blocked at every turn.
It wasn’t long before Eleanor appeared to him as a data-ghost.
‘I’m not even going to start on the fact you’ve been ignoring me,’ she snapped as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, ‘but I think you should know people have been looking for you. First that whole debacle at the White Palace, then Cripps sneaking into your apartment, and now Lethe’s been asking questions ever since you went to talk to Offenbach. I don’t care if you’re allowed to talk about it or not – were you on Vanaheim?’
He tried and failed to blank from his thoughts the image of a shambling figure climbing into a white-hot furnace.
‘I think that’s probably not hard to guess,’ he admitted.
‘That’s where you were taken right after we arrived inside the White Palace, isn’t it? Where else could you have gone for so long?’ She paced before him, looking tense and harried. ‘Lethe told me about some raid on a building on Kirov Avenue. He knows you were there, Luc – you were seen. It had something to do with a man named Reto Falla, right?’
Luc nodded.
‘Then there’s the way you keep disappearing from sight with no way to contact you,’ she went on. ‘It’s clear you’re involved in something as big as Aeschere – maybe even bigger, I don’t know.’
‘I don’t understand why you’re upset,’ he said. ‘You know how these things are. It’s not like the first time either one of us has been involved in something we can’t talk about—’
‘Because even then I knew at some point we wouldn’t have to do it any more!’ she shouted, pressing one hand against her head. ‘I’m not taking part in any more high-risk fieldwork, and you told me things were going to be different after you’d caught Antonov.’ She shook her head. ‘But that’s not the case, is it?’
‘Look, this was a direct request from a member of the Temur Council,’ he said, forcing himself to breathe slowly. ‘Believe me when I say it’s really not something I had any choice in. Why do I have to tell you that, when you know it already?’
‘Do you remember what I said to you?’ she said, rounding on him. ‘That there’s only one of you; but that still didn’t stop you charging into an unknown situation with a bunch of Sandoz who at least had the advantage of backups.’ She shook her head. ‘You still don’t understand how lucky to be alive you are after all that’s happened, do you?’
‘So what do you expect me to do?’ he said irritably. ‘Go marching back up to the Palace and say, “Sorry, I’m quitting because my girlfriend isn’t happy”?’
She sank dow
n onto a chair he couldn’t see, hands clasped above her knees, head slightly bent forward and eyes closed as if in prayer. ‘No. I know you can’t do that,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s just that I nearly lost you once before, and I thought I was never going to have to deal with something like that again.’
He pulled himself out of his chair and reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, momentarily forgetting she wasn’t physically present. Even so, she leaned towards him, acknowledging the gesture.
‘I thought it was all going to be over too,’ he said, letting his hand drop back by his side. ‘But it’s not. Not yet, anyway.’
‘There’s a rumour going around that Falla was connected with some kind of assassination attempt,’ she said, the anger of a moment ago now drained from her voice. ‘Lethe made enquiries after you were seen on Kirov Avenue, and got Offenbach to admit you’d been asking questions about Sevgeny Vasili, who no one’s seen in days. Everyone at Archives knows there’s something big going on, and you’re connected with it.’
‘Anything else?’ he asked.
Her shoulders rose and fell. ‘There are rumours about Father Cheng that have everyone worried.’
‘What about him?’
‘That he might be stepping down as Chairman.’
Luc dropped back into his seat and stared at her in shock. ‘What? Where did you hear this?’
She let out a small, bitter laugh. ‘With the way you’ve been running around between here and Vanaheim or wherever the hell they’ve been sending you, I thought you’d be the one to know something about it.’
‘I had no idea. This isn’t official?’
‘No, it’s not official. But the way I hear it, there’s a faction in the Council demanding Cheng stand down and let someone else become Chairman.’
‘What faction?’
‘Luc, if anyone’s likely to know about something like that, it’s you.’
