by Gary Gibson
‘What’s it doing?’ he asked nervously.
‘It’s allowing me to talk to your lattice,’ de Almeida replied, her expression intent, eyes focused on something Luc couldn’t see. He felt a slight tingling in his scalp.
‘All right,’ she said as the mechant retracted its proboscis and moved back. ‘I’ve set up neural blocks that should help retard the lattice. Now you can go home, Mr Gabion. You have your work to return to, and an investigation to carry out.’
‘How can I do that from Temur?’
‘Remember I have Father Cheng’s permission to bring you here as and when necessary. When I need you, I’ll call on you. In the meantime, you can return to your work in Archives. Now follow me.’
She led him down the length of the greenhouse and through tall doors at its far end. The sky had darkened, the air outside only slightly cooler than it had been inside de Almeida’s laboratory. Pale filaments of nebulae, perhaps only a few light-years away, rose above the horizon.
A flier dropped silently down onto a broad concrete apron close to the greenhouse. Luc glanced back and saw tall, sand-coloured towers surrounding the circular building he had just emerged from, side by side with a tile-roofed mansion. Beyond the buildings, cultivated gardens segmented by gravel paths had been planted with gently rustling trees of the same species as those in the greenhouse.
‘If you really want me to find out who killed Vasili,’ he said as they approached the flier, ‘I’m going to need to talk to people. And you need to show me just what went wrong with your security systems.’
‘Nothing went wrong with them.’
Luc frowned. ‘I don’t understand. Cheng said that someone must have compromised—’
She regarded him with wide, angry eyes. ‘Unfortunately, Bailey Cripps was quite correct in his assessment when he said there was nothing whatsoever wrong with Vanaheim’s security systems. I spent the last few days taking them apart in order to come to that conclusion.’
‘But in that case—’
‘Whoever did this, Mr Gabion, wants to make me appear to be the guilty party.’
‘You think someone’s trying to frame you?’
She nodded.
‘That could make your case very difficult.’
‘That goes without saying. Who exactly do you need to talk to?’
‘Everyone.’ He shrugged. ‘Anyone. Councillors, certainly.’
She sighed. ‘I thought you might say something like that. But it could prove difficult.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re not a Councillor yourself. None of them have to talk to you, unless Father Cheng tells them otherwise.’
‘But Cheng agreed to your running this investigation, didn’t he? Surely they have to obey him.’
‘You’d think so, but to be frank, it took a lot of persuasion to get Father Cheng to agree to letting you come to Vanaheim. None of them really care about Vasili, they only care whether their neck’s next on the block. And what Cheng wants most of all is for all of this to go away before the Reunification ceremonies begin.’
Luc reached out, putting one hand on the side of the flier’s open hatch. ‘I’d like to take another look at Vasili’s body.’
She frowned. ‘You’ve already seen it.’
‘That was more of a quick glance. Plus, I need to interrogate Vasili’s home security system. And take a second look around that island.’
She nodded tiredly and gestured to the flier. ‘I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime . . .’
Luc nodded and climbed on board.
‘One last thing,’ he said, turning to look down at her. ‘Were you aware that Bailey Cripps came to visit me at my home before I was even brought to Vanaheim?’
Her eyes widened in shock. ‘What?’
‘He had,’ said Luc, ‘concerns about my loyalties.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said I was just as much a suspect, though he didn’t specify what I was a suspect of.’
De Almeida stared off to one side, her nostrils flaring in the same way they had on Vasili’s island. Then she turned back to him. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me, Mr Gabion.’
‘I think,’ he said, ‘that you need my help just as much as I need yours.’
Fire flashed in her eyes. ‘And how do you figure that?’
‘You brought me into this because you thought I was good at my job. In that case, I can tell you I’m pretty sure the rest of the Council, or at least those I met today, are getting ready to hang you out to dry.’ He felt the conviction of his own words as he spoke. ‘That’s assuming you’re telling me the truth, and you really didn’t kill Vasili. But even if you didn’t, the odds are stacked against you. I didn’t get the sense you were well liked by any of those others I met – quite the opposite, in fact.’
‘You’re speaking out of turn, Mr Gabion,’ she said, her voice low and dangerous.
‘I told you I need to be able to speak candidly. I can’t be afraid of speaking to you, and those are the facts as I see them.’
‘Any other nuggets of wisdom you’d care to share with me?’
‘I think your bringing me to Vanaheim was a move of desperation on your part. You thought if I could work out who really killed Vasili, it would keep the rest of them from turning you into a scapegoat.’
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I may have underestimated you, Mr Gabion. I see that now.’
‘As for Cripps, my best guess is he came to me because he thought I was in league with you in some way. You told me you’d all left Vasili’s body where it was for a couple of days; time enough for you to wonder when they were going to start accusing you of his murder and look for ways to prove yourself innocent. That’s why you approached Cheng, seeking his permission to bring me here. And it’s obvious Cripps thinks you are guilty, because as soon as he got wind of that decision, he decided maybe I was working with you to cover things up.’
She thought about this for a moment. ‘You’re sure about that?’
Luc shrugged. ‘Alternatively, maybe Cripps was trying to throw me off for some other reason.’
‘Perhaps he did it.’
‘Maybe he did,’ Luc agreed. ‘He certainly acted like a frightened man, and he really doesn’t trust you.’
She let out a small laugh. ‘The one thing I and Bailey Cripps have in common is that we don’t trust anyone. It’s an essential trait for a long career in the Temur Council. I’ll be in touch, Mr Gabion. I’ll do my best to arrange interviews with anyone who might be able to throw some more light on this whole sorry mess.’
Luc watched her turn and stride up the path without another word, then stepped back, the hatch folding back into place.
SIX
When Luc arrived home through the Hall of Gates, it was mid-afternoon in Ulugh Beg. Eleanor came to him later that evening, exploring his new skin with fingers and lips while the setting sun sent shards of orange light slanting through the window of his apartment.
Tell me what happened, she had asked him shortly after appearing at his door, obviously distraught and out of her mind with worry. Tell me where you disappeared to. When you didn’t come back, I really started to think maybe you were gone forever.
But he knew the risks of telling her too much and getting her involved, and her work in SecInt meant she understood the necessity of keeping secrets. She had not really expected him to answer. Even so, he felt a pang, as if by refusing to answer her questions he was in some strange way betraying her.
He lay back, head propped up on a pillow, Eleanor’s own skin limned by the city’s myriad lights as she moved above him, hands kneading his flesh. He noticed again the cosmetic alterations she had recently made to her own body: her hips were slightly narrower than they had been, her breasts fractionally and fashionably smaller. She shuddered, skin glistening, then pressed herself down against him, holding him tight as he came inside her. She held perfectly still for a moment, then slid down onto
the bed beside him.
He lay there for a long time, listening to her sleep. He was still wide awake, despite his exhaustion. Sleep was impossible after everything he’d been through.
Sometime in the early morning, he had the overwhelming sense that someone else was in the room with them.
He lifted his head and saw a hunched figure with its hands pushed deep into pockets, staring out the window with its back to him.
The figure turned and looked at him: Cripps. A rainbow shimmer surrounded his outline.
Luc climbed naked out of the bed and pulled on a night-robe. Eleanor, he saw with relief, hadn’t woken. He gestured towards the living room and stepped through. Cripps took the hint, his data-ghost vanishing from the bedroom and reappearing in the living room a moment later.
‘There are laws about data-ghost voyeurism,’ Luc hissed the moment the door into the bedroom folded itself shut behind him. ‘How the hell long were you standing there watching us?’
Cripps shrugged. ‘A minute, no more. I want to know what you said to Zelia de Almeida, after she took you away from Vasili’s.’
Luc dropped into a seat and pushed both hands through his hair, still groggy. ‘Or what? You’re going to threaten me too?’
‘Charming as ever, was she?’ Cripps made a gesture, and Luc felt a flush of outrage when the house AI obeyed him, de-opaquing the window and allowing the morning light to come streaking in. Pioneer Gorge’s street-markets were already busy far off in the distance. ‘I, however, do not need to threaten you,’ he continued. ‘I need only remind you of your sworn duty to the Temur Council.’
‘To the Council,’ Luc snapped, ‘but not necessarily to you in particular.’
‘If you’d prefer, I can arrange to have you taken back to Vanaheim by force, and interrogated there at my pleasure.’ Cripps let his gaze drift towards the bedroom door. ‘Or perhaps I could have Miss Jaq arrested, and see what she might be able to tell us. Would that be preferable?’
Luc gripped the arms of his chair and reminded himself that the data-ghost had no actual, physical throat for him to take a hold of. ‘Does Father Cheng know you’re here?’
‘Father Cheng trusts me to ensure the safety of both the Council and the citizens it serves,’ Cripps replied. ‘To that end, I have an open remit to do whatever proves necessary to ensure the Tian Di’s survival and safety. Who else do you think I report to, Mr Gabion?’
‘All right,’ Luc said heavily, ‘fine. De Almeida checked me out in her laboratory and found nothing particularly wrong with me. I already knew I had lesions on my brain from Aeschere, which isn’t exactly surprising, given the level of trauma I suffered. That’s the most probable cause.’
‘And what else?’
Luc shrugged. ‘She asked me my impressions of the people gathered at Vasili’s, and if I had any particular insights. That’s about it.’
‘Tell me your insights, then.’
‘There’s really nothing to tell until I have a chance to interview each of the Councillors individually. She said she might be able to arrange that. I also asked to see the inside of Vasili’s home a second time.’
Cripps’ gaze was unwavering. ‘I’m sure you had more to discuss than that.’
‘I told her you’d come here once before and asked me a lot of questions.’
‘That probably wasn’t a very wise thing to do.’
‘Why?’
‘Well,’ Cripps responded, ‘Zelia is herself the most obvious suspect in Vasili’s murder, is she not?’
‘The other day,’ Luc reminded him, ‘you claimed I was a suspect, but there was no way I could possibly have known yet about Vasili’s death.’
‘That remains to be seen,’ said Cripps. ‘She brought your name up very soon after the discovery of Vasili’s body. Naturally, that aroused my suspicions.’
‘And how does that make me a suspect?’
One corner of Cripps’ mouth turned up in a smirk. ‘Perhaps you didn’t pull the trigger on the weapon that killed Vasili, Mr Gabion, but you might have been complicit in his death in some other way.’
‘Go on.’
‘Sneaking an assassin through the Hall of Gates and transporting them to Vasili’s island, as Father Cheng believes, is not something even Zelia, with her high level of access to Vanaheim’s security networks, could have done easily. She would have needed accomplices.’
Luc stared at Cripps in shock. ‘You think de Almeida recruited me to help her set up Vasili’s assassination, then brought me into the investigation to throw you off the scent?’ He let out an outraged laugh. ‘How long did it take you to come up with that? It’s the most—’
‘It might have been planned weeks or even months ago,’ said Cripps, interrupting. ‘Your side trip to Aeschere would have given you excellent cover.’
Luc shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘And what about you, Mr Cripps? You turn up here twice, unannounced, and making threats – just the kind of thing a guilty man would do to try and cover his own tracks.’
‘No, it’s the kind of thing a police officer would do, and I’m the closest there is to one on Vanaheim. You can’t deny Zelia looks guilty as all hell, particularly since she’s perfectly placed to sabotage the same security networks she’s been put in charge of.’
Luc was finding it harder and harder to fight back a growing tide of anger. ‘I was there when Father Cheng agreed that I could come to Vanaheim and—’
Cripps stepped closer, until Luc could see the dim outline of the window through his data-ghost. ‘Let me make myself clear. You collapsed in front of several high-ranking members of the Council, and Zelia was very insistent on taking you with her, even though any one of us could have provided you with an equal level of medical attention, and a lot sooner as well. That, Mr Gabion, did not go without remark.’
‘For God’s sake, I’m just barely out of intensive regeneration therapy!’ Luc yelled, briefly forgetting Eleanor was still asleep next door. ‘Instead of getting the chance to recover, I got hauled off to play detective without any warning. And if de Almeida wants me back on Vanaheim, I don’t have much choice in the matter, and you know that.’ Same as I don’t have much choice but to be here listening to you, however I feel about it.
Cripps nodded. ‘Then just do what I tell you, and continue to keep an eye on everything Zelia says and does.’ He reached out to touch something Luc couldn’t see, his hand blurring as it reached outside of the range of the projector he was using. ‘We’ll speak again.’
The data-ghost winked out. Luc stared at the empty air where it had been for another minute, all thoughts of sleep vanished.
‘Luc?’
He turned to see Eleanor framed in the bedroom door, a look of alarm on her face. ‘Luc, what’s going on?’ she asked. ‘I heard you yelling.’
‘How much did you hear?’
‘Just the last few seconds.’ She glanced back through to the bedroom. ‘I didn’t mean to intrude, I . . .’
‘No, it’s okay.’ He gestured at her to come in. ‘It was just work.’
‘Archives called you in the middle of the night?’
‘And since when did you work regular office hours, Miss Jaq?’
She smiled and came to sit beside him, but he could see the strain and worry in her face, and wondered if she’d heard more than she was letting on.
He couldn’t help but admire the smooth, taut muscles of her body, carefully optimized to the physical standards required of SecInt agents. She had skills of endurance and prowess that remained unavailable – at least legally – to most citizens of the Tian Di, a necessary advantage in her line of work. And yet, in that moment, she looked almost frail as she reached out and clasped one hand over his.
‘There’s something going on I don’t know about, isn’t there?’ she said. ‘And it’s got something to do with Aeschere. Every time I look at you, you’re somewhere else.’
He thought of de Almeida, and her revelations about the lattice i
n his skull. ‘I want to tell you, but . . .’
‘But you can’t,’ she finished for him. ‘I get it. Though I do think you should talk to Director Lethe.’
Luc shook his head at this, and saw a flash of anger in her eyes. ‘Why not?’ she asked.
‘What I’m involved in is at a higher level even than Lethe.’
‘The Temur Council?’
He didn’t reply, and her eyes darted towards where Cripps’ data-ghost had been standing until just a minute ago.
‘You have to be careful when dealing directly with the Temur Council,’ she said, her voice soft. ‘Very, very careful.’
‘Believe me,’ he said, reaching out to her, ‘I know.’
By the next evening the walls of Luc’s apartment felt as if they were closing in, and he decided to head into Archives rather than spend any more time on his own.
He could have simply data-ghosted himself there – some of Archives’ employees spent their entire careers working remotely, via transfer gate on other Tian Di colonies – but there were certain questions that were best asked face-to-face. That meant a trip to the Pioneer Gorge facility, and to Vincent Hetaera, the Archives Division’s Head of Research.
He travelled by overhead tram, watching as the wafer-thin buildings bordering the north-east quadrant of Chandrakant Lu Park gave way to the classical architecture of the Old Quarter. The tram carried him past the crescent shapes of biomes that preserved the planet’s original flora and fauna, then down into the Gorge itself, before leaving him at the entrance to Archives, a vast, truncated pyramid of a building more than two centuries old.
He found Vincent Hetaera standing by the window of his office. ‘It’s wonderful to see you whole and well,’ said Hetaera, stepping over to Luc with a wide grin on his face.
He stopped and regarded him with a shocked expression. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said, his tone apologetic.
‘What?’
Hetaera’s grin grew wide once more. ‘I should have addressed you as Master Archivist Gabion, shouldn’t I?’
