The Dark Imbalance
Page 25
Roche absorbed this.
Tired of repeatedly butting the same brick wall, Roche fell silent. A few minutes later, Kajic reported that Maii and Cane were ready to leave. Roche switched her implants to a view of the scutter’s cramped interior. Cane sat in the pilot’s seat, his face expressionless. Maii sat beside him, still somewhat pale, but looking better than she had been earlier; the medicinal pack covering her wound was less bulky than it had been, indicating that its healing work was almost done. Behind her...
Roche agreed. Part of her was still nervous about giving the ex-Dato captain the chance to escape with the ship, but the rational side of her knew that this was simply unjustifiable paranoia. Had he wanted to, he could have killed or lost them dozens of times already.
Roche nodded to herself. She couldn’t do everything—especially when this particular job held little appeal.
The scutter disengaged from the Ana Vereine and arced smoothly toward the larger ship. Cane flew the small craft with competence and ease. He was a natural at everything he turned his hand to, even a complicated task such as flying a space vessel. Somewhere in his lost memory, Roche supposed, was the knowledge he needed, accessible at will. How it had got there in the first place, though, was the question—one question among many. She could only hope that some of them would be answered when he came under the council’s spotlight.
There had been no mention of the Ulterior outside the sealed conference room where Roche had revealed her knowledge concerning the five clone warriors. She assumed that it was still considered at best to be an informal group by most of its members—although Murnane’s presence at that meeting was a strong indication that its activities were partially sanctioned by its parent, or would be gratefully absorbed into the greater body of work if things went well.
How long her partial acceptance by the council would last she didn’t know, but while she was a member, she resolved to take full advantage of it. She couldn’t just sit by and watch while everything was potentially falling apart around her. Even if the council ended up dismissing her again, then at least she could say that she’d tried.
“Ameidio?”
Haid turned to face her.
“If you were the enemy, and this was your doing”—she indicated the images of destruction displayed on the monitor which was built into one wall of the conference room—”why would you be doing it?”
He faced the monitor and contemplated the question for a few moments. “To reduce the resources of the enemy,” he said at last.
She shook her head. “No,” she said, “They’re far too outnumbered. Even a ninety-nine percent reduction in our capability would leave them way behind.”
“To disorganize the enemy, then?”
She considered this for a short while before offering another shake of the head. “That’s a hell of a lot of effort for so little gain.”
“Depends on how you look at it.”
“Not really,” she said. “Wouldn’t any sensible campaign concentrate its energies here, on the Phlegethon? That’s where the potential for organization exists. Even if it’s the only surviving ship, it’d stand a chance of victory against a small enough enemy force.”
He shrugged. “This could just be a smoke screen, then, and they are already working on us. We just haven’t realized it.”
“We got rid of their agents; they don’t have anyone else to work through.”
“You heard what Murnane said: the council is recalling its field agents. How many of the enemy do you think will slip in with that lot?”
She nodded. “I’ve considered that,” she said. “And who’s to say the enemy has to be a clone warrior at all? There are bound to be collaborators we’ll never detect, small-time operators who might slip past even high-grade reaves because they aren’t aware that what they’re doing is even wrong.”
His dark eyes watched her closely. “You could be right about the agents,” he said. “But there’s something else on your mind, isn’t there?”
She half-smiled, then sobered. “This mass killing,” she said slowly. “It’s a message of some sort.”
“A message?” Haid frowned. “Saying what?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m not even sure for whom it was intended.”
“It would have to be for the council, surely,” said Haid. “Who else could it be for?”
She didn’t answer that, because were she to voice her suspicions, she was sure that Haid would think her totally paranoid. Nevertheless, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the message was aimed at her. It was as though they somehow knew that she was responsible for having located the five clone warriors, and that now they were making her pay the price. If so, this was retaliation on the largest possible scale; they were warning her not to do it again....
But that all presupposed the existence of the epsense link Cane had already denied knowing anything about. She doubted the council could decide in a single sitting whether he was telling the truth or not, but she was looking forward to seeing them try.
On the screen, a habitat shaped like a spinning top broke up under centrifugal forces, spraying fragments into the small flotilla arrayed against it. Roche couldn’t even begin to imagine the scale; the habitat could have been home for dozens or thousands of people, and the ships may have been fighters or cruisers. There was no way to tell the scale from the display on the screen alone.
She stood abruptly, turning from the destruction to face Haid. “Come on,” she said. “I’m going to get Vischilglin to take us to the docks to meet Cane and Maii.”
“You don’t trust the council to do it for you?” said Haid.
“That’s not the problem,” she said. “The last time I sent those two somewhere on their own, I very nearly didn’t get them back.”
“What about Vri?” Haid said, getting to his feet.
She had forgotten the Surin. Vri had been with them for twenty-four days, but had never integrated into the group. He kept apart, following his own agenda, only working with them when their goals meshed. The moment their goals came into conflict, she had no doubt whose orders he would follo
w. On the Phlegethon, he would be close to getting what he and the Surin Agora wanted. She didn’t entirely trust his ability to compromise if his superiors didn’t follow suit.
“All the more reason to go down there.” She turned to leave.
“Morgan?” Haid said suddenly. She stopped and faced him again. “Do you think you could handle Vri?”
The question startled her.
“If you had to,” he went on quickly. “One on one.”
“I’ve no idea,” she said. “Probably not. I’ve never even thought about it, to tell the truth.” The soldier had performed very well in the Fathehi Consulate. Not as well as Cane, but better than anything Roche could ever hope to perform. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Just curious.”
“And what about you?” she said.
“Me? I wouldn’t stand a chance.” His smile was disarming. “But both of us at once...? Well, that would be a different story.”
She smiled slightly and patted the ex-mercenary’s shoulder. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
* * *
The scutter was delayed slightly by an unscheduled course-change undertaken by the Phlegethon in order to avoid a cloud of debris too extensive to tackle head on. Even with the enormous ship’s shields, the chance of a large fragment slipping through was too great to risk. Changing the ship’s orbit gave a certain tactical advantage too: camouflaged or not, the more it moved, the less chance someone hostile had of tracking it from its last known location.
Apart from a containment team already in position when they arrived, the civilian docks were virtually empty. Of all the airlocks Roche could see, the one through which Cane and Maii disembarked seemed to be the only one in use.
“You don’t get many visitors here, I take it?” she said to Vischilglin, who waited with them by the inner door.
The tall woman shook her head. “Security is very tight at all times, and especially so now. I am told that docks like these are usually a hive of activity when consistory vessels return to their home system. With such a large crew, the reunions can go on for weeks. The Heterodoxies are renowned for their devotion to family as well as to faith.”
The woman spoke quickly and with animation, but never meeting Roche’s eyes. It seemed to Roche that she was nervous, anxious—trying, perhaps, to suppress an uncomfortable thought.
“Something’s bothering you?” Roche asked.
Vischilglin kept her gaze on the dock’s inner door. “I’ve lost contact with my superiors back home,” she said softly. “Signals stopped arriving three days ago.”
Roche nodded slightly, but didn’t know what to say. She was saved from having to by the inner door hissing open. The suits of the containment team whirred as they stood at the ready.
Cane stepped out first, followed closely by Maii. She wore a new hazard suit with additional armor provided by Vri that lent the normally gray exterior an air of gilt decoration. Cane wore nothing but a typical brown Dato shipsuit. There was a tension in his posture which only heightened when he saw the containment team.
Maii looked tired; her lips were thin, her pale features drawn. She stepped over to Roche and lightly touched her arm.
The image might have been meant to make the girl look strong. To Roche, it made her look very small and alone.
The Surin girl touched her mind with a mental shrug.
Vri was the last to step from the airlock. His visor was in place and his eyes were hidden, but Roche could tell from the way the helmet moved that he had scanned the containment team, Vischilglin, Haid, and herself with one appraising glance. He knew what had happened on Galine Four and was obviously prepared for anything.
He stopped just behind Maii and waited silently.
“The council will convene in fifteen minutes,” said Vischilglin, stepping forward. “Transport has been arranged.”
As she spoke, a large, flat vehicle slid quietly to a halt nearby. The containment team reorganized itself to create a clear space leading from the airlock to the transport.
“Do we all go together?” Roche asked her.
“That would be simplest.”
Roche nodded, but instead of heading for the transport, she moved to face Cane.
“Do you know why I’ve brought you here?” she asked.
“To testify before the council,” he said.
“Are you ready for that?”
He returned her stare evenly. “Are you?”
The question was a challenge, although she didn’t know why it should be. “I have nothing to hide,” she said. “And I’m assuming that you don’t, either—that you’ve been telling the truth from the start.”
“Why would I do otherwise?”
“Because...” She faltered in mid-sentence. There were no words to frame the suspicion she still felt, deep in her gut. “Because you could.”
Because I stand to lose everything if you haven’t been telling the truth....
“Having the potential to do something is not the same as intending to use it, Morgan. You of all people should know that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that five of my people died today as a direct result of your involvement in this conflict. Uri showed me the footage. Now that you know for certain that your ability works, you have the potential to track down and hunt every one of my kind and bring them all to their deaths. Whether I agree with them or not, whether you think I might be one of them or not, whether I am lying to your or not—it’s all irrelevant. Ultimately, all that matters is your intent, isn’t it?”
She took a step back from his intense gaze. “Killing all of your kind would be genocide.”
“Exactly. And since I know that this is what you would call it, you have nothing to fear from me.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Morgan, any intelligent being can only do what it thinks is right. Have faith in my ability to do that, and everything will be all right.”
His eyes never once left hers. His hand gripped her shoulder tightly. She felt he was pleading with her, trying to make her understand something important—but she couldn’t quite grasp it. Genocide? Was he talking about the destruction of the Caste that had made him and his kind over half a million years ago? Or was he just using that possibility to illustrate a more general point?
“If you have any surprises in store for me,” she said, “you’d better let me know now.”
“I’m not the one with the surprises, Morgan,” he said.
Turning on his heel, he stepped through the containment team and onto the transport.
15
SHCV Phlegethon
955.2.14
1000
The fane was full. By the time Roche and her party took their places in the front row, with a clear view of the font and the small group of people around it, she had lost count of the number of unfamiliar Castes mixed in with the thousands of Pristines: short ones, tall ones, broad ones, thin ones, Castes that required filters to weed out atmospheric irritants, and Castes that, judging by the thickness of their skins and protective coverings over their eyes, could have survived just as comfortably in a vacuum. She recognized only three types: a Surin not far from where they stood, an Eckandi toward the rear, and a robed Hum looming to one side. Where they had come from, she couldn’t guess.
The “tension” sprang in part from the news that the Heresiarch had placed the ship on red alert. The conflict in the system showed no signs of abating; if anything,
it seemed to be spreading. All peripheral civilian ships, including the Ana Vereine, were to dock, and a protective sphere of fighters would patrol the space between the camouflage and the body of the Phlegethon itself. If anything got through, it would be instantly dealt with.
When the time came, Esko Murnane stepped forward and bowed respectfully to the Heresiarch. He raised his hands and, gradually, silence fell about the fane.
“We have taken the unprecedented step,” he began, without preamble, “of inviting our non-Pristine guests to join us today. We intend this as a sign of solidarity in these difficult times, when all of Humanity seems endangered, not just the Pristine Caste. For many of us, this meeting could well be the first time we come face to face, knowingly, with the enemy.”
Although Murnane had made no gesture nor mentioned any names, heads began to turn toward Roche and her party.
“We have among us again a person you all know at least by reputation—a person who was initially rejected by this council but who has, despite that, worked for us in an unofficial capacity for the last two and a half weeks. The information distributed immediately prior to this meeting explains how Morgan Roche has stumbled across a means of identifying the enemy. If this ability is unique to her, it may be of little long-term benefit in our fight with the enemy. But if it is not, if there are others among us who share this ability, then we have a very real chance of victory. To overcome the enemy we must explore every possible avenue—and at this moment in time, this is the best option available to us.”
Roche couldn’t tell from Murnane’s expression whether he believed what he was saying or not, but the triumphant glint was back in Nemeth’s eye. It probably wouldn’t matter from his point of view if Murnane believed it at all, as long as the council gave him the credit.
“The sudden and unexpected escalation in conflict we’ve seen around us,” Murnane went on, “may be connected to the death of five clone warriors earlier today on board this very ship. Immediately following their deaths, fighting broke out around the system, and it has not stopped or even eased since. The speed with which the news spread suggests that some sort of epsense link might be involved, and so we have asked Morgan Roche, here, if she will help us in determining whether or not this might be the case.”