Something had been bothering Vess; now he had it. ‘Chairman? You’ve been talking a great deal about “I”. Are the rest of the Board with you?’
Or-Shls looked at him for a long time. Then he smiled. ‘If I were you I’d go and find Vut, who has gone there and who seems to want so badly to be found by you – and who seems to have stolen a ship and gone hunting.’
‘Just that? Chase Vut across space?’ Vess shook his head. ‘With respect, it seems an odd choice of priorities.’
‘It may do, but it isn’t. You need to understand something, ex-Harbour Master. You are tainted by failure. I can make no use of you here. Finding Vut could be useful; making fresh contact with whoever is now in charge out there could be even more so.’
Vess laughed. ‘So that’s it. I’m to be an emissary? Really, Chairman?’
Or-Shls slapped a hand down on his knee; it was the first gesture of irritation Vess had ever seen him make. ‘Why not? You are – were – just senior enough, and after all, the attributes of a spy and a diplomat are basically identical. At the very least, you might save your own life. At best, you might save all of us. Field up.’ The grey walls vanished, leaving a curtain of steam. Or-Shls stood up, nodded and walked off, waving the steam aside. It parted into wisps, and a current of hot wet air brushed Vess’s cheek and then dispersed.
Vess turned to Clo Fiffithiss. ‘What’s going on?’
The creature froze for a moment, then made a complicated knot out of two forelimbs. Vess raised his eyebrows; as far as he could remember the gesture meant something very like ‘shh – not here’. He nodded.
‘Shall we rejoin the party?’
‘By all means.’ Clo Fiffithiss made a show of looking around. ‘Do you think he will have laid on any entertainment for me?’
Vess shook his head. ‘Would you have liked some?’
‘No, but the thought would have been appreciated. Will you be indulging?’
‘No.’
‘Good. If you had said yes I would have thought you were an impostor. If it helps, you might like to know that our host won’t be indulging either.’
Vess raised an eyebrow.
‘Not at first hand.’ A quick blur of a foreclaw. ‘He’s strictly an observer.’
‘Did he know you were going to tell me that as well?’
‘I doubt it.’ The same gesture. ‘He doesn’t know I know.’
‘Well, well.’ Vess walked on.
That Or-Shls was a voyeur didn’t surprise him. That the Gamer knew about it surprised him a little.
But he had worked out the gesture. It was a sly grin. That the creature thought it was funny made him – thoughtful.
Cloud Deck
AT ITS NOISY peak the circle of the party had expanded almost to the misty limits of the clearing, and then gradually collapsed as people left or paired up or gathered into trios or quads or whatever groupings pleased them best.
Vess had been sitting on a flat rock about halfway between the stone circle and the edge of the platform. He had spent some of his time people-watching, and all the rest of it thinking. No one had spoken to him, either because they had been told not to or because he wasn’t – important.
He sat on his anger. Either reason suited him perfectly.
Clo Fiffithiss hadn’t volunteered anything else. It had excused itself some time before, and Vess had been vaguely aware of it rustling through the trees just out of sight. He assumed it had been making its own entertainment.
Now it was back, and Vess found himself blinking at it. He realized it was getting light; the creature appeared less as a silhouette and more as a grey shape. He stood up and pressed his hands into his back. ‘I’m tired,’ he said. ‘Shall we walk?’
‘Of course.’
Vess headed for the edge of the clearing and Clo Fiffithiss followed him. In the dim light noises were important; the creature sounded like some tiny mammal pattering across dry stalks. That’s what it’s supposed to sound like, thought Vess. Why aren’t I afraid?
Because fear has limits. I’ve reached them.
They were almost at the edge of the lowered platform. The trees thinned out, and then there was just a band of grass ten paces across, and a waist-high fence of interwoven thorn-stems.
Vess walked up to it and peered over. It really was the only barrier – the clouds had thinned with the dawn, and he could see straight down to the Great Basin, three hundred metres below.
He smiled at Clo Fiffithiss, which had settled itself on the fence next to him. ‘So Or-Shls has a plan.’
‘Hundreds, I should think. So?’
Vess watched the creature for a moment. ‘Where are you in all this?’
The gesture was definitely laughter. ‘On the side of the numbers. Where do you think?’
‘I think you can’t game an individual.’
‘And I think those aren’t the only numbers.’
Vess nodded. ‘How do we get away from here?’
‘Well, we ask Or-Shls. I expect he’s waiting for the question.’
Vess shook his head. ‘That feels like sticking my neck into the blades.’
‘Have you another idea?’
‘Yes, I have.’ He brushed a hand over the surface of the fence – it was far too prickly for anything firmer – and lifted it. ‘I seem to remember a conversation where you described you and me as being dull middle-managers. Would you describe yourself as risk-averse, Gamer?’
‘Obviously. Why?’
‘Good. I hope you’ll forgive me if I put that to the test.’
And Vess brought the hand round, fast. It connected with the body in the centre of the mass of legs, and Clo Fiffithiss was gone, tumbling over the edge like a ball of—
No, not like a ball. Within seconds it had spread itself into a flat, fluttering net of claws and legs that slanted down on a course that looked thoroughly steered, away from the platform and the Basin below it.
Vess squinted along the course and nodded. A dot became a circle, became a small, stubbily streamlined atmosphere craft that tipped to a stop at the end of a neat jet-stream, just below the falling Gamer, and extended a shallow net. Clo Fiffithiss dropped into it.
A minute later the craft was next to the edge of the platform with the net at eye level. Clo Fiffithiss lifted itself from the net and extended a claw towards Vess. Its translator made a busy staccato rattle like falling pebbles; it fiddled with something and the pebbles became a voice.
‘Vess? You are an utter cunt.’ It paused. ‘Would you believe, that’s actually worse in my language than it is in yours?’
Vess shrugged. ‘You said you were risk-averse.’
‘I did. I’m even more so now. Why did you do that?’
‘I want to leave, and I don’t want to do it in something owned by Or-Shls. I’ve had enough of being a puppet.’
‘For goodness’ sake, human – you could have just asked. How did you know I’d come back, anyway?’
‘I assumed you’d want to swear at me.’
Clo Fiffithiss watched him for a moment. Then it gave an insectile shrug, shuffled itself round in the net and tapped a quick rhythm on the top of the craft, which popped open and floated a little higher so the edge of one fat wing covered the fence. Vess climbed on and dropped into the compartment. Clo Fiffithiss swung itself in beside him.
The net stowed itself. The top flipped over and sealed with a sucking noise, and the craft scooted away from the platform.
From inside, the top was transparent. Vess watched the Cloud Deck receding.
He hadn’t been sure Clo Fiffithiss would come back. That gave him one less thing to wonder about.
He realized that the being was watching him. ‘Now that you’re away,’ it said, ‘where do you want to go?’
Vess smiled. ‘The Hive.’
Clo Fiffithiss made an untranslatable noise. Its limbs flickered over the control surfaces and the little craft came to a dead stop. Then it turned towards him.
‘Have you lost y
our mind, human?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘But why?’
‘How many reasons would you like? Because I don’t want to support Or-Shls; because I don’t trust Or-Shls. Because I don’t believe Vut does want to see me.’ And because I don’t trust you either, he thought.
‘But why the Hive, for goodness’ sake?’
Vess said nothing.
Clo Fiffithiss watched him for a while. Then it sighed. ‘I’ll have to tell Or-Shls. This can’t happen without his say-so. And, you ought to know, this is going to do me no good at all.’
‘Why? Am I not as you predicted?’
‘No.’ It reached out a limb towards the controls. ‘I’ll just have to hope that Or-Shls is not as I predicted either.’
Vess looked away. He was hoping beyond hope that his desperate guess was right.
Solpht (‘Archive’) Observatory
SELDYAN WOKE WITH a memory of movement. She eased her shoulders and felt them press into something soft and yielding that didn’t feel like ground. She opened her eyes and found herself looking up at a blackened timber roof, with a complicated-looking network of ropes and levers hanging from it, and two lamps with smoky yellow flames. There was some sort of table next to her with a tall stool. A little carved thing, like a faceted globe, sat on one edge of the table.
She sat up.
Her head wasn’t spinning – that was progress – and her foot didn’t hurt. She looked down the length of her body. Someone had cut off her trousers just above the knee and everything below that seemed to be wrapped in dry leaves. They had a faintly astringent scent which felt good on her palate as she took a breath.
‘Hello?’
There were footsteps behind her. She turned round and saw Belbis taking something off his head – a strip of fabric? He raised his eyebrows.
‘Sitting up. Very good. Pain?’
‘No. No pain. Did you do that?’ She gestured at the leaves.
‘Yes. Clean, healing. Also boil in water, drink. Heal inwards.’
Seldyan smiled at the phrase. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It works. I feel – healed inwards.’
‘Good. Equal now for a while.’
She nodded. Then she frowned. ‘Why for a while?’
His face was serious. ‘We are here – Observatory. You came to stop the light, yes? Time now.’
‘Ah.’ She stood up. ‘This is where the light comes from?’
He nodded.
‘Okay. You’d better show me.’
He reached up and took one of the oil lamps, and she followed the yellow light through a maze of rooms and then down – narrow timber steps at first, then wider stairs cut into rock. At the bottom of the flight Seldyan stopped and crouched down, touching the cold surface. ‘This feels very even …’ She reached for her pouch and took out the stunner, surprised first that it was still there, and then that it still worked, at least as far as lighting up was concerned.
The light gleamed off a dead-flat, almost polished surface. The walls of the corridor they were in looked the same. Every now and then there was an alcove with a carved globe, like the one she had seen on the table.
She nodded to herself and stood up. ‘Belbis? No disrespect, but your people didn’t make this.’
‘No. Very old. Here.’ He was holding out a strip of cloth.
‘What?’
‘Bind eyes. No more steps. There is a chamber soon, where the light comes.’ He gestured along the corridor to a plain door at the end.
‘Oh.’ She took the cloth and made a couple of turns of it round her head, tying it awkwardly behind her. She couldn’t see any light through it. ‘Will this do?’
She felt investigating fingers. They were cool on her skin. They smelled dusty.
‘Yes. Now me.’ There was a rustling. ‘Ready? Keep eyes shut too.’
‘Wait!’ She reached out and managed to catch hold of his clothes. ‘How do you know this is safe?’
‘Already tried. While you sleep?’ She heard humour in his voice. ‘Three days sleep. My leaves are slower than your tricks.’
‘You came here?’
‘Yes. My job to do. The Housekeepers – still there.’
‘Oh.’ She remembered: he had told her about the old men who had stayed. A part of her wanted to ask him what he had done with them, but she held back and patted him instead. ‘That was good.’
‘My job. Now, ready? Then follow.’
She let go of him and followed his footsteps down the corridor, one hand brushing the walls to keep her straight. The corridor was short – after twenty paces his noises stopped so she did too.
There were other noises. Somewhere in front of her there was a keening hiss, like rain sawing through something. The air smelled slightly burned. She shuddered.
Then there was the sound of a latch and the hiss grew much louder, and someone said:
‘Warning. Do not enter. Danger to life.’
Something, thought Seldyan. The voice was obviously artificial. Out loud she said, ‘Did that happen when you came before?’
‘Yes. Same voice that warned, when I first came.’
Automatics, thought Seldyan. Let’s see how smart they are. She thought for a moment. ‘Entering. Cease dangerous activity.’
‘Do not enter.’
It had responded, to some extent. She tapped a finger on the corridor wall, and tried again. ‘Define danger.’
‘Collimated high-energy electromagnetic radiation beam. Do not enter.’
Definitely a conversation. The next question was worth trying. ‘State purpose of beam.’
‘Containment status-change alert. State the purpose of your questions.’
Alarm bells rang in Seldyan’s mind. She thought quickly. ‘To gain information.’
‘That is applicable to all questions. You are unauthorized. Leave.’
Seldyan turned to where she thought Belbis was. ‘Shut the door. It’s time to go. Come on.’
She waited until she heard the click behind her, and then breathed out. ‘Whoa. Did that happen to you?’
‘Only the warning. I asked no questions.’
‘You were sensible. Let’s go.’ She turned and was about to feel her way back the way they had come. Then she snorted, reached up and pulled off the improvised blindfold.
And stood still.
She had thought she was facing back up the corridor, but she had been wrong. She was facing the wall of the corridor, and it was not blank. There were letters embossed in the metal. She reached out a hand and traced the pattern. Without looking away she said, ‘Belbis? Did you see this?’
She heard the sound of cloth sliding over itself as he took off his own blindfold. Then he was next to her, peering at the wall. He shrugged. ‘I saw. No meaning.’
‘To you, maybe. But there is to me.’ She tapped the letters. ‘Level Two. You know what that means? There’s a Level One somewhere. Maybe a Level Nought. How well do you know this place?’
‘The wooden place up above, every room. Down here, just this. The Housekeepers showed me.’
She nodded. ‘Yeah, the Housekeepers. They can’t show us now.’ She thought for a moment. Then she felt a slow smile widening her face. ‘Where did the Housekeepers live?’
He frowned. ‘Private place.’
‘Sure. Do you want to ask their permission or shall I?’
He was quiet for a while. Then he lowered his eyes. ‘Follow.’
She followed the man, and the ball of light round his lamp, back up the stairs and out of the metal corridors and through a twisting wooden world that felt utterly unnavigable to her, but was probably just like anywhere else to someone who had never seen.
The Housekeepers seemed not to have needed much. There were three thin pallets on the floor, and beside each pallet a bowl with a crude spoon in it.
There were no windows and no lights. Seldyan gestured to Belbis to pass her the lamp, and knelt by one of the pallets. She frowned. ‘Belbis? How many days since yo
u left here?’
He looked at his fingers. ‘I think, more than fifty.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought. And those guys were called the Housekeepers, and they’re gone. So why is nothing dusty?’ She wiped a finger over the inside of the nearest bowl. The surface felt slickly clean.
He shrugged.
Seldyan gave the bowl a gentle thump. It clunked. Then she stood up. ‘I’ve got an idea.’ She paused, then clapped her hands. ‘Service! Whatever you are. Show yourself!’
For several breaths nothing happened, and she got ready to look embarrassed. Then she and Belbis both jumped.
There was a quiet pop and the lights came on. They were very bright after the lamplight and Seldyan shut her eyes for a few seconds to let them adapt. When she opened them she had company – there was something floating a metre or so from her at around her eye level.
It was one of the little carved globe things. She nodded. ‘That makes sense. How many of you are there?’
‘Just one.’ The voice was high and reedy.
‘One? But I’ve seen lots … Oh. All you?’
‘Yes. I can move fast. The AI says you’ve been asking questions.’
‘I was. It didn’t answer.’
‘It’s not very imaginative. Your speech patterns say you’re not from this planet. Where are you from?’
She was about to say ‘the Hive’, but thought better of it. ‘The Inside.’
‘Not recognized. Where is that, relative to the Spin?’
‘Right in the middle. Maybe you’re out of date.’ She thought about that for a moment. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Eleven thousand, four hundred and seventeen years, local. Ten thousand and eight, standard.’
She sucked in a breath and blew it out in a soft whistle. ‘Seriously? Have you been isolated all that time?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
The little machine floated in front of her wordlessly for several seconds. It was completely silent, she realized; she could hear Belbis breathing. She wondered how he was taking all this.
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