“That’s not enough,” Dreyfus said.
“All you’ll have to show for it is four wrecked ships and twelve dead prefects. We can’t afford to lose the ships and we damned well can’t afford to lose the prefects.”
“It’s the logical next step in an escalating response,” Crissel pointed out.
Dreyfus shook his head in dismay.
“This isn’t about logical next steps. They’ve already shown us that any approaching ships will be treated as hostile.”
“So what do you propose?”
“We need four deep-system cruisers, more if we can spare them. They can carry hundreds of prefects. They’ll also stand a chance of fighting all the way into the four habitats and making a forced hard dock.”
“To me,” Crissel said, looking pleased with himself, “that sounds very much like putting all our eggs in one basket.”
“Whereas you’d prefer to keep throwing the eggs one a time, until we run out?”
“That isn’t it at all. I’m talking about an appropriate reaction, rather than a sledgehammer strike with all our resources—” Dreyfus cut him off.
“If you want to recover those habitats, the time to act is now. Whoever’s inside them is probably struggling to control the citizenry, enough that they may still be vulnerable to an assault by a small but coordinated squad of prefects. We have a window here, one that’s closing on us fast.”
Gaffney had returned to the room—he’d been off on some errand elsewhere. Dreyfus noticed an uncharacteristic sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the fact that he was wearing the heavy black glove and sleeve of whiphound training armour.
“At the risk of endorsing melodrama,” Gaffney said, looking only at the other seniors, “Dreyfus may have a point. We can’t commit four cruisers, or even two. But we do have one on launch standby. We can put fifty field prefects inside it within ten minutes, more if we move some shifts around.”
“They’ll need tactical armour and extreme-contingency weapons,” Crissel said.
“The armour isn’t a problem. But the weapons are still under wraps.” Gaffney looked apologetic.
“This crisis has caught up with us so quickly that we haven’t polled for permission to use them.”
“Jane would have polled already,” Dreyfus said.
“I’m sure she was planning it when I left.”
“It’s not too late,” Baudry said.
“I’ll force through an emergency poll using the statutory process. We can get a return on it inside twenty minutes. That’ll still give us time to equip the cruiser.”
“If they don’t turn us down,” Dreyfus said.
“They won’t. I’ll make it abundantly clear that we need those weapons.”
“And spark off even more unrest into the bargain?” Gaffney asked, head tilted at a sceptical angle.
“Be very careful how you play this one. If the citizenry get even a whiff that we’re dealing with something worse than a squabble with the Ultras, we’ll have our hands tied just containing the panic.”
“I’ll be sure to exercise due discretion,” Baudry said, speaking with fierce self-control.
“I hope the vote goes our way,” Dreyfus said.
“But even if it does, one cruiser won’t be anywhere near enough.”
“It’s all we can spare at the moment,” Gaffney said.
“You’ll just have to take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” Dreyfus said.
“Provided I’m allowed to lead the assault team.”
For a moment no one said anything. Dreyfus sensed the conflicted impulses of the other prefects. None of them would have wanted to be on that ship when it got close to House Aubusson.
“It’ll be dangerous,” Gaffney said.
“I know.”
Baudry studied Dreyfus with knowing concentration.
“And I presume House Aubusson will be your first port of call?”
He didn’t even blink.
“It’s the softest target. The one we have the best chance of taking.”
“And if Thalia Ng were elsewhere?”
“She isn’t,” Dreyfus said.
Across the Glitter Band, a singular event was taking place, one that had not happened for eleven years, and for more than thirty before that. With the exception of the four that had already been lost, it was happening in all ten thousand habitats, irrespective of their status or social organisation. Where citizens were wired into a high degree of abstraction, whether it was inside the Bezile Solipsist State, Dreamhaven, Carousel New Jakarta or one of a hundred similar habitats, they simply found their local reality—however baroque, however impenetrably bizarre—being rudely interrupted to make way for an unscheduled announcement from the mundane depths of baseline reality. In the many mainstream Demarchist states, citizens felt the intrusion of a new presence into their minds, one that momentarily suppressed the usual nervous chatter of endless polling. In more moderate states, where abstraction was not adopted to the same degree, citizens received warning chimes from bracelets, or found windows appearing in the visual fields provided by optic implants, lenses, monocles or glasses. They paused to pay heed. In states where extreme biomodifications were in vogue, citizens were alerted by changes in their own physiology, or the physiologies of those around them. Skin patterns shifted to accommodate two-dimensional video displays. Entire bodily structures morphed to form living sculptures capable of delivering a message. In the Voluntary Tyrannies, citizens paused to look up at murals on the sides of the buildings that had suddenly flicked over to show the face of an unfamiliar woman rather than the locally designated tyrant.
“This,” said the woman, “is Senior Prefect Baudry, speaking for Panoply. I am invoking statutory process to table an emergency poll. Please be assured that normal polling will resume after this interruption.” Baudry paused, cleared her throat and proceeded to speak with the slow and solemn gravity of the practised orator.
“As is well known, it is the democratic wish of the peoples of the Glitter Band that
Panoply operatives be denied the day-to-day right to carry weapons, beyond those specified in the operational mandate. Panoply has always respected this decision, even when it has meant placing its own prefects at risk. During the last year alone, eleven field prefects have died in the line of duty because they carried no weapon more effective than a simple autonomous whip. And yet each and every one of them walked into danger knowing only that they had a duty to perform.” Having made her point, Baudry paused again before continuing.
“But it is part of the mandate that, when circumstances dictate, Panoply has the means to return to the citizenry and request the temporary right—a period specified as exactly one hundred and thirty hours, not a minute longer—to arm its agents with those weapons that remain in our arsenal, designated for use under extreme circumstances. I need hardly add that such a request is not issued lightly, nor in any expectation of automatic affirmation. It is, nonetheless, my unfortunate duty to issue such a request now. For matters of operational security, I regret that I cannot specify the exact nature of the crisis, other than to say that it is of a severity we have very rarely encountered, and that the future safety of the entire Glitter Band may depend on our actions. As you are doubtless aware, tensions between the Glitter Band and the Ultras have reached an unacceptable level in the last few days. Because of this situation, Panoply operatives are already facing heightened risks to their personal safety. In addition, Panoply’s usual resources—people and machines both—are overworked and overstretched. I would therefore respectfully issue two requests at this point. The first is to urge calm, for—despite what some of you may have heard—all the information presently in Panoply’s possession indicates that there has been no act of hostile intention from the Ultras. The second request is to grant my agents the right to carry those weapons that they now need to perform their duties. Polling on this issue will commence immediately. Please give this matter your utmost attention. T
his is Senior Prefect Baudry, speaking for Panoply, asking for your help.”
The deep-system cruiser Universal Suffrage sat in its berthing cradle, ready to be pushed out of the hangar into space. Final preparations were under way, with just the latter phases of fuelling and armament still to be completed. The midnight-black wedge of the ninety-metre-long vehicle was offset by the luminous markings delineating general instructions and warnings, power and fuel umbilical sockets, sensor panels, airlocks and weapons and thruster vents. Only when the cruiser was under way would these lines and inscriptions fade back into the absolute blackness of the rest of the hull. Conferring with the pilot, Dreyfus had already worked out an approach strategy. They would come in fast, tail-first, and execute a last-minute high-burn deceleration. It would be bone-crushingly hard, but the cruiser was built to tolerate it and the prefects would be protected by quickmatter cocoons. A slower approach would give Aubusson’s anti-collision weapons too great a chance of achieving a target lock.
Satisfied with the status of the ship, Dreyfus pushed his way out of the observation gallery into the armoury, where the other prefects were being issued with Model B whiphounds. He checked the time. Any minute now, the polling results should be in. He’d listened to Baudry’s speech and didn’t think anyone could have made a better case without galvanising the entire Glitter Band into mass panic. She’d walked a delicate line with commendable skill.
But sometimes the best case wasn’t good enough.
Set into one wall was a wide glass panel, oval in shape, with burnished silver pads on either side of it. Behind the panel, set into padded recesses and arranged like museum pieces, was a small selection of the weapons Panoply agents were no longer permitted to carry. There were vastly more weapons hidden from view, waiting to be rolled into place. All were matt-black and angular, devoid of ornamentation or aesthetic fripperies. Some of them were handguns scarcely more lethal than whiphounds. The heaviest weapons, Dreyfus knew, were fully capable of cutting through the skin of a typical habitat.
Baudry and Crissel had just arrived, stationing themselves at either side of the oval window. They each carried one of a pair of heavy keys that needed to be inserted into the pads on either side of the window and then turned simultaneously. Only seniors carried the keys, and it took two seniors to unlock the extreme-contingencies weapons.
“The vote’s in?” Dreyfus asked.
“Just a few seconds,” Baudry told him. Most of the field prefects had filed out of the room now, to take their positions aboard the Universal Suffrage. Only a handful were still dealing with their armour, or waiting to receive weapons.
“Here it comes,” she said, the set of her jaw tensing in anticipation.
Dreyfus glanced down at the summary data spilling across his bracelet readout, but it wasn’t necessary to see the result for himself. Baudry’s expression told him all he needed to know.
“Voi,” Crissel said, shaking his head in dismay.
“I can’t believe this!”
“There’s got to be a mistake,” Baudry said, mumbling the words as if in a trance.
“There isn’t. Forty-one per cent against, forty per cent for, nineteen per cent abstentions. We lost by one per cent!”
Dreyfus checked the numbers on his bracelet. There had been no error. Panoply had been refused the right to bear arms.
“There was always a chance,” he said.
“If House Aubusson hadn’t dropped off the network, they might even have swung it for us.”
“I’ll go back to the people,” Baudry said.
“The statutes say I can table another poll.”
“It won’t make any difference. You made your point excellently the first time. No one could have argued our case more effectively without inciting system-wide panic.”
“I say we just dispense them,” Crissel said.
“There’s no technical reason why we need a majority vote.
The keys will still work.”
Dreyfus saw the tendons on the back of Crissel’s hand standing proud as he readied himself to twist the key.
“Maybe you’re right,” Baudry said. There was a kind of awestruck horror in her voice, as if she was contemplating the execution of a glamorous crime.
“These are exceptional circumstances, after all. We’ve lost four habitats. We can’t rule out wider polling anomalies, either. We’d be within our rights to disregard that poll.”
“Then why did you bother tabling it?” Dreyfus asked.
“Because I had to,” Baudry said.
“Then you have to do what the people say, too. And the people say no guns.” Crissel was almost pleading now.
“But these are exceptional times. Rules can be waived.” Dreyfus shook his head at the senior.
“No, they can’t. The reason this organisation exists in the first place is to make sure the democratic apparatus functions smoothly, without error, bias or fraud. Those are the rules we hold everyone else accountable to. We’d better make damn sure we hold ourselves to the same standards.”
Baudry tilted her head in the direction of the Universal Suffrage.
“Even if it means going out there with nothing but whiphounds?”
Dreyfus nodded solemnly.
“Even that.”
“Now I understand why Jane never promoted you above field,” Baudry said, before shooting a conspiratorial glance at Crissel.
“But you’re outranked here, Tom. Michael and I have the keys, not you. On three.”
“On three,” Crissel said.
“One… two… and turn.”
Their hands twisted in unison. A mechanism clunked behind the wall and the oval window slid ponderously aside. The visible weapons emerged from their recessed partitions, pushed out on chromed metal rods. Crissel retrieved a medium-size rifle, sighted along its slab-sided, vent-perforated flanks and then propelled it through the air to Dreyfus.
Dreyfus caught it easily. The weapon felt both reassuring and totally wrong.
“I can’t do this,” he said.
“It isn’t your call. Senior prefects have just issued you with appropriate ordnance.”
“But the vote—”
“The vote went our way,” Crissel said.
“That’s what I’m telling you now. I’m expressly instructing you to disregard any information you might have received to the contrary.”
“This is wrong.”
“And you’ve said your piece,” Baudry said, “stated your fine and noble principles. Now take the damned weapons. Even if you won’t carry one, Tom, you can at least equip those other prefects. We’ll take the fall for this when the dust settles. Not you.”
The weapon felt snug in his hands, solid and trustworthy. Take it, a small voice implored. For the sake of the other prefects, and the hostages in House Aubusson. How likely is it that the eight hundred thousand people in House Aubusson give a damn about democratic principles now?
“I’ll—” Dreyfus began.
But he was cut off by the arrival of a new voice.
“Let go of the weapon, please. Let it float away from you.” It was Gaffney, accompanied by a phalanx of Internal Security prefects, all of whom were wearing an unusual amount of body armour, with whiphounds unclipped and partially deployed.
“What’s this about?”
“Easy, Tom. Just let the weapon go. Then we can talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“The weapon, Tom. Nice and easy.” Dreyfus had no use for the rifle. Even if there had been an ammo-cell clipped into it, he was hardly going to open fire so close to the docking bay. But it still took a measure of self-control to let it drift out of his fingers.
“What’s going on?” Baudry asked. Gaffney clicked his gloved fingers at the pair of field prefects still waiting to clear the armoury.
“Get aboard the ship,” he said.
“She asked a civil question,” Dreyfus said.
“Field Prefect Tom Dreyfus,” Gaffney said, before the stragg
lers had cleared the room, “you are under arrest. Please surrender your whiphound.” Dreyfus didn’t move.
“State the terms of my arrest,” he said.
“Your whiphound, Tom. Then we can talk.”
“My name’s Dreyfus, you sonofabitch.” But he still unclipped the whiphound and let it drift after the rifle.
“I think you’d better explain,” Crissel said. Gaffney appeared to have trouble clearing his throat. His eyes were wide, pugnacious, brimming with an almost religious rage.
“He’s let the prisoner escape.” Baudry’s look sharpened.
“You mean Clepsydra, the Conjoiner woman?”
“Prefect Bancal visited her cell about ten minutes ago and found the cell empty. Mercier was called immediately: Bancal assumed that the doctor had moved her back to the clinic for medical reasons. Mercier hadn’t, though. She’s gone.”
“I want her found, and fast,” Crissel said.
“But I don’t see why Dreyfus is automatically assumed—”
“I checked the access logs,” Gaffney said.
“Dreyfus was the last one to see her before she vanished.”
“I didn’t release her,” Dreyfus said, directing his answer at the other two seniors, not Gaffney.
“And how could I have got her out of that room even if I’d wanted to?”
“We’ll figure that out in due course,” Gaffney said.
“What matters is that you weren’t happy about her being locked up in there, were you?”
“She’s a witness, not a prisoner.”
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