The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy)

by Neil Davies

  At one time, Steve would have railed against such words, snapped back with some rich insult or witty line. Now he just belched a second time and failed in his battle against the vomit, turning onto his side and spraying the crushed carcass of the insect he had killed.

  He heard the girl moving away from him.

  I don't blame you. I don't blame you at all.

  He coughed, feeling the burning in his throat, spitting indefinable bits onto the floor.

  I never considered myself a drunk, he thought through the sickening haze, the broiling cloud that alcohol smothered his mind with. A heavy drinker, yes, but never a drunk. Larn forgive me, that's what I've become! Perhaps the girl was right? Perhaps I should just crawl away somewhere and die.

  He forced himself into a sitting position, not noticing as his hand splashed into the pool of vomit at his side. He needed some water, something to wash the taste from his mouth, ease the acid burn of his retching. He was aware he needed to wash too, but that was secondary. Somewhere there was a basin, a bathroom perhaps.

  Where are we today? I can't remember getting here. I don't know where we are.

  His surroundings, what he could see of them through the gloom and the hangover, seemed to suggest a cellar. The walls were plain brick, the floor stone. Broken shelves stood against one wall and there were ghostly prints on the adjacent brick where a workman's tools had formed a barrier against dust and grime. He could make out a suggestion of steps at the far end of the room and finally, not too far from him, a washbasin with a small cracked mirror above it. It was stained almost black and a steady drip splashed monotonously onto the stone floor, the water seeping into cracks, no doubt undermining the foundations of the building.

  He stumbled to his feet, almost fell, regained his balance and slowly walked to the basin. He turned the taps, splashed water onto his face, into his mouth, and noticed, for the first time, a door alongside the basin, leading to a small alcove of a room, and the arguing voices within.

  "All you're doing is existing from day to day and scoring the odd point off the government with a raid on nonessential government subsidiaries," snapped Ursa, her patience wearing increasingly thin as the discussion continued.

  Simon Walker shook his head, his face grim, determined.

  "What you're suggesting is too risky. We are doing what we can. We're making an impact. Why else would there be such an effort to find us and kill us?"

  "I'm not denying that, but..." Ursa stopped. What was the point? She would never get Walker to change his mind by shouting at him. He was a leader, and a leader never showed weakness by giving in to a shouted argument, especially one from a relative newcomer to the group.

  "The Szuiltans have been here almost two months now. They brought extra Bosens with them. There have been more reports of Bosen activity, openly on the streets."

  "I know all this," said Walker irritably. "What's your point? That no one's actually seen a Szuiltan yet? That they seem to sit in that enormous cruiser of theirs in the grounds of the Leader's offices and communicate through their globes? So what? Who cares what they look like?" He shrugged. "I don't. So, what's your point?"

  "My point is that there must be some reason why they're here. They could have stayed on their own planet, just used their Bosens. And the rumour is that the Szuiltan President will soon come here to Aks."

  "I've heard that rumour," interrupted Walker, nodding his head slightly.

  "Right. But why? Why would the President of Szuilta come here himself unless there was something big brewing?"

  "I've heard those rumours too. Something major about to happen. Some grand plan. It's all rumour, nothing more. We don't even know for sure that the President will come."

  "The last message I received from Sellit indicated that their sources confirmed the rumours."

  Walker laughed. "With due respect to Sellit and its sources, they haven't had a good close source of information since you had to leave our illustrious Leader's employ so suddenly."

  Ursa said nothing. She knew he was right. Sellit had relied heavily on her for reliable information from the top echelons of government. She knew they had other agents planted in the Aksian hierarchy, but all relatively low down the scale. She had been unique, a triumph of infiltration.

  "I'm sorry," said Walker, interpreting her silence as acceptance of defeat. "We don't really know anything. There's nothing but rumour and speculation."

  "All the more reason for us to find out some real facts." Ursa leaned forward, jabbing a finger at Walker as emphasis. "You just admitted we don't really know anything. Surely you can see the value of finding out what's actually going on?"

  "Perhaps..." Walker stumbled. He had thought the argument over. Now she was twisting his words to her own ends.

  "And you admitted yourself that I was well placed to gather information when I worked for Lane, yes?"

  "Yes, but..." I'm losing! This Sellit bitch is outmanoeuvring me. Thank Larn this is private.

  "Then you must admit that I would know the location of those places with access to the sort of information we need, and I would know which were the least guarded, the least security conscious." Ursa stayed close to him, her eyes staring deep into his.

  He's cracking. He knows he's lost the argument, but that still doesn't mean he'll agree.

  "Yes, yes, I admit all that..." how can I deny it? But I still won't let her win! "The information would be useful, but I suspect its real use would be with your masters back on Sellit, not with our cause here. You're asking me to sacrifice my people for the good of the Trading Inner Council, not for the rebellion here on Aks."

  Larn! He's playing to the gallery even when there's no one else around to hear him, thought Ursa with a hint of admiration. A genuine showman. A natural. In different circumstances he could have been a politician, perhaps even Leader.

  "I get the feeling you're still in disagreement with the plan?" She had to ask, had to hear him say it, even though she already knew the answer.

  "I'm afraid I am. It's too great a risk for the possible gains. We will find out the truth soon enough. If the rumours are true then we will find out when things start happening. That's all we need."

  "But that could be too late!" said Ursa, a suggestion of exasperation creeping into the edges of her otherwise perfectly controlled voice.

  "Too late for whom? Too late for Sellit, perhaps, or other off-worlders, but we are already rebels, we are already outside the law. Nothing they could do is going to change our situation in any way worth worrying about. We'll find out..."

  "When it happens," finished Ursa, turning away and walking to the wall, leaning one hand against the damp brick. She hesitated, knowing what her alternatives were, also knowing which she must choose. It did not make it any easier.

  "You realise I still have to try." Her voice was flat, emotionless, a professional stating the obvious.

  Walker nodded. "Of course. I would have been disappointed in you if you had said anything else."

  "You also realise that on my own I stand next to no chance of succeeding or of getting out alive." It was a statement, not a question, and required no answer. "I was hoping for some help."

  "I can't ask my people to follow such a scheme. Not when I don't agree with it myself."

  "There might be some among them who would agree with me. What would you do then?" She turned to face him.

  Walker hesitated. I must be careful. This group is too disparate to be ruled by someone seen as a dictator, and whatever I say here may well circulate. I must be seen to be democratic in my command, whatever the truth of the situation.

  "I can't stop anyone going with you of their own free will. I can only advise them against it," he said finally.

  "Then you've no complaint if I ask a few chosen members of your rebels?" smiled Ursa, easing the tension with carefully chosen words. 'Your rebels'. Let him know I understand who's in charge here.

  "None at all," said Walker, returning the smile. But I'll be sure t
o talk to them first.

  "I'll go with you."

  Both of them were surprised at the interruption and turned to face Steve as he leaned unsteadily in the doorway, unshaven, vomit stains on his trackovers, obviously hungover.

  Ursa said nothing, but silently cursed as she saw the smile of satisfied laughter on Walker's face.

  Chapter 51

  Councillor Braben tried to assess the situation as he stepped out of the travel tube into corridor 12 of the T.I.C. complex, forcing his thoughts to stay calm, logical, considered. This was no time for wild speculation, let alone panic.

  It was not unheard of for the Trading Council to convene without its leader, but it was unusual and unique in his lifetime. What had the other nine members discussed in his absence? Why was he now requested to attend? Who had called the Council to conference, bypassing the normal route, bypassing him?

  Chivers! She never liked me, never trusted my administrative background. Perhaps Jareth? Neither hold any love for those of us who did not fly the spaceways like common traders. Who can I rely on? Who would side with me in any vote of confidence?

  He suspected, hoped even, that he could rely on Smitheson, maybe Reith, Trasker, one or two of the others. If it really came to a vote it would be close.

  It might be nothing of the sort. Perhaps there is some innocent purpose behind all this, some perfectly sensible and understandable reason I was not invited to the previous meeting? A reason that holds no threat to me?

  He wished he could believe that, but all his thoughts, however hard he tried to control them, led him one way only.

  Aks! It has to be to do with Aks, and probably that trader, Drake. How much do they know?

  He nodded to the guards outside room 5A and entered. He was not searched.

  They don't consider me a physical threat then.

  "Councillor Braben," said Councillor Chivers as he approached the table and took his customary seat. "Thank you for joining us. I'm sorry it was at such short notice."

  "No problem. I am always ready to comply with the wishes of my fellow Councillors," smiled Braben. So, it's Chivers. Who else?

  "I realise the strangeness of this situation, a meeting called without the Council leader, but I'm sure you'll appreciate our problem." Chivers' expression did not change, but Braben was convinced the polite smile deepened without any actual movement.

  "Recent events and information received have raised some interesting questions," said Smitheson, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the desktop. "I'm sure you can answer them, but there were those among us who felt it necessary to discuss them first without you."

  Braben nodded, his mind racing. 'Those among us'. Does he include himself in that? Or is he indicating his support for me, distancing himself from those behind this? I don't know how to read him. It did not help his peace of mind to remember that Smitheson was an experienced diplomat. The man could say one thing and mean entirely the opposite without any hint of deceit.

  "I will do my best, but at present I don't even know what these questions are about." Braben kept his voice level and calm. He did not intend to give them the satisfaction of seeing the turmoil inside him.

  "Aks, Councillor," said Chivers, tracing the line of her scar with one finger, an unconscious trait that others had come to associate with readiness for violence, either physical or political. Councillor Chivers was a formidable opponent in both.

  "There has been a lot of change, but I fail to see..."

  "In the last year, Aks has undergone massive political and social unrest. The assassination. The rise of the rebels. The alliance with Szuilta and the consequent use of Bosens to put down civil disturbance. And now, in the last few months, the arrival of Szuiltans themselves." Chivers paused, her eyes almost glaring at Braben, as if she were challenging him to question the relevance of her words.

  "We have agents there, of course," she continued. "They have provided useful information to us. The situation is volatile, on the very borders of civil war, yet now we hear of the arrival of a trader." She consulted a readout inlaid in the desk before her. "One Steve Drake, accompanied, apparently, by one of our own agents." The readout again. "Jason Rawlings. We have it from reliable sources that his orders come directly from you, Councillor. Why weren't the rest of the Council advised of this? It is normal to seek full Council approval before sending an agent into such a delicate situation."

  Braben paused before answering, gathering his thoughts, calming the fear that smouldered beneath his rational thoughts, threatening to break through and smother him. He looked slowly around the other members of the Council, noting the fixed grim expressions. Chivers sitting back, patient, waiting. Smitheson leaning forward, perhaps still undecided about which side to take. It was not possible to tell who might have already decided the wrongness of his actions and who awaited his response before deciding. One thing was certain. There was more to this than anger over a breach of protocol.

  They may suspect, but they have no proof. If they had proof, I would be under arrest already.

  "I apologise for bending the rules in this case." he said, speaking to the whole Council but looking towards Smitheson. I need to persuade him to side with me.

  "Bending? You completely ignored them," interrupted Jareth.

  "Perhaps." So, Jareth shows his allegiance. "Whatever the semantics, I felt it was necessary in this case, precisely because of the delicacy of the situation on Aks. The fewer who knew, the less chance of something leaking out to Aks or her supporters."

  "Are you suggesting that one of us is a security risk? Perhaps even a traitor?" snapped Chivers, leaning forward, her finger tracing that scar once again.

  "Not at all," answered Braben quickly, aware of the dangerous line he now took. If the Council members felt insulted by his words, he had lost. "But with something so sensitive I felt it was necessary to minimize risks, however small."

  "The Aksian government know nothing about this Council or its agents, just like the other worlds we operate on. What made you think that would suddenly change now?" asked Jareth, his manner relaxed, his words loaded with hidden weight and importance.

  "As has been already pointed out, much has happened on Aks in this past year, particularly the recent arrival of the Szuiltans, a largely unknown quantity. Need I remind the Council what happened to Agent Holt on Szuilta? And of the probable involvement of Suzex?"

  A slight murmur rolled around the table and Braben had to suppress a smile. Suzex was an emotive name for them all, and his unknown but probable connection with Szuilta and, perhaps, Aks was a concern they all shared.

  "If Suzex is involved, as we suspect," he continued, "Then we must face the possibility of our existence now being known by the Aksian authorities."

  There was a moment of silence and Braben could see his words being considered carefully by those around him. How many have I swayed?

  "All our current reports suggest strongly that Leader Lane still considers his former Personal Assistant, our Agent Mirram, to be working for Earth," said Jareth. "I don't personally believe that has changed."

  "But we must accept that it's a possibility," said Smitheson.

  Excellent! Braben could barely hide his elation.

  "Suzex's involvement makes anything possible." This was from Councillor Falls, a senior member of the Council, much respected and always listened to.

  Those I haven't convinced at least have doubts now, thought Braben.

  "The rules of this Council were still broken," said Chivers.

  "Rules should not be set in stone, Councillor. You, of all people, should know that. If rules could not be broken, you would not even be on this Council," said Smitheson.

  Yes, that's good, thought Braben. Remind her that she forced many rules to be bent and even broken in her fight for women's equality in the trading fraternity.

  The more they argued among themselves, the less likelihood there was of any deeper investigation into his actions.

  "There is still
the matter of Steve Drake," insisted Chivers.

  Shit!

  "He requested involvement. He wanted to fight back in some way against those who had killed his friend."

  "You sent an ordinary trader into a life threatening situation. That is not acceptable," said Jareth.

  "I didn't send him. He would have gone whatever was said."

  "He could have been grounded," said Chivers, pressing the argument, unwilling to let go.

  "It would not have been possible to keep such an order secret. How would the other traders have reacted to such draconian measures? Questions would have been asked, questions we would not have wanted answered."

  "Even so..." Jareth again.

  "He would have gone whatever we did. You know as well as I do that there are ways off this planet we have difficulty controlling as fully as we would like. I thought, in the circumstances, it was better to send an agent with him so that he had at least some chance of survival."

  There was a brief nodding of heads from several Council members, Smitheson among them. Braben watched Chivers and Jareth carefully. It was obvious they were not convinced, but it was equally obvious that they knew they had lost the support of the Council in their investigations, at least temporarily.

  I need to think what to do about those two. They won't stop digging, that's for certain, and if they ever find the proof they're looking for I won't survive another meeting like this.

  And there was so much more at stake here than just a job. The T.I.C. was, when all the political surface was stripped away, a military organisation in everything but name, and carried with it military style punishments for those found guilty of serious offences. Yes, there was so much more at stake here than just a job.

  "Do they suspect?" said Baxter, handing a drink to Braben who sat, trying to relax, in an armchair.

  The lighting in Braben's personal quarters had been subdued in an attempt to ease the headache that started pounding the moment he left the meeting.

  "Oh, they suspect, certainly. But they can't prove anything yet. All I've been shown to be guilty of at the moment is a breach of rules, and they've accepted my reasons behind that." He took a sip of his drink. "They must never find out anything more."