*
The office on the first floor was wood-panelled. Matthieu led him in and immediately started rearranging the cases of spirits, clearing them away from the wall.
Florian stood in the doorway, watching him as he held Essie’s hand.
‘Essie needs some new clothes,’ Terannia said, in a disapproving tone. ‘That dress is far too tight – and short.’
‘I know. Just some sheets or something will do. I can sew them into a new dress.’
Terannia gave the existing dress a closer look. ‘Did you make this one?’
‘Yes.’ Florian braced himself for criticism.
‘Not bad.’
‘Here we go,’ Matthieu said. He pressed a section of panelling. There was a click, and a small door swung back.
Florian stared at the lightless passage it revealed. ‘What’s that?’
‘A little bit of quiet privacy in a bad, noisy world,’ Matthieu chortled. He took a couple of torches from a drawer in the desk.
‘You take them,’ Terannia said. ‘I’m not dressed for it.’
Matthieu gave her a pained look. ‘Because my old bones are just built for this.’
‘Is it difficult?’ Florian asked.
‘No. Just not built for our height, that’s all,’ Matthieu said. ‘Essie will be fine.’ He switched the torch on, and crawled in.
Essie followed him, a delighted expression on her face. Florian brought up the rear, shining the torch forwards so Essie would be able to see where she was going.
The corridor was about a metre and a half high, one wide. It had floorboards, and the walls were a reddish brick that had been worn smooth and dark by something rubbing along them for a very long time. There were small doorways at regular intervals, all of them blocked off, some with hurriedly laid brick, others with wooden planks.
‘What is this?’ he asked.
‘Mod-dwarf passage,’ Matthieu said. ‘Back in the Void there were millions of the creatures. They were a slave species that started out as neuts, then got changed somehow by telepathy. Modified, hence mods. You could get mod-horses, mod-dogs, mod-apes – things that helped with all the tough manual labour. You also got mod-dwarfs, who were house servants.’
‘I have heard of them; we learned about them at school. But the teacher never said much.’
‘I’m not surprised. Slvasta had them all slaughtered after the Great Transition. There was no telepathy any more, so we couldn’t order them around, and they were supposed to be related to the Fallers, somehow. Anyway . . . all houses had them to do the drudge work. So their stables were part of every building back in the Void, along with these passages so they could move between human rooms without getting in the way.’
‘Every building?’
‘Yes. Trouble is, the passages are all so small there’s no use for them – no human use, anyway – so down the years they gradually got blocked off.’
They reached the end of the corridor, and climbed some small wooden steps into a larger room that Florian could just stand upright in. It was semicircular, with the curving wall inset with two rows of deep alcoves. A single window at the top of the flat wall was glazed with a white glass which allowed a reasonable amount of sunlight to shine in.
‘The mod stable,’ Matthieu announced; he pointed at the alcoves. ‘They slept in those. But no worries, you’ve got these.’ He took a couple of sleeping bags from one alcove. ‘Toilet in that corner. Sink over there. It does work – not that there’s any hot water, mind.’
Florian turned a complete circle, trying not to show his dismay.
‘Hungree, Daddy,’ Essie said.
‘I’ll bring you some food,’ Matthieu said. ‘And I’ll see what I can do about some picture books or something for Essie.’
‘Thank you.’ Florian picked up one of the sleeping bags. There were more in other alcoves, he saw. ‘Who are these for?’
‘Ah.’ Matthieu gave him a soft smile. ‘Your aunt helps a lot of people who need to get out of town. I don’t need to tell you how much crud Eliters get given here, do I? That bitch in charge of the PSR office has a real animosity going for us. So if someone crosses them, they stay in here for a while to let the heat die down, then we send them along to Port Chana. I think your brother stayed in here for a while before he left.’
‘Lurji? He was here?’
‘Yeah. And the PSR never caught up with him, did they? So you’re perfectly safe – just so long as you remember not to make too much noise. The Gates are kind of crowded, and you’re only ever five metres away from your neighbours.’
*
There were eight cells in the Opole PSR office that were specifically designed to hold Eliters. They were in the first level of the basement, with their own external access from the alley at the back. A corridor led away from the bottom of the stairs, directly underneath the building, so that none of the cells had a window, or even an outside wall. Inside each cell, the walls, floor, and ceiling had been covered in a metal mesh, turning it into a Faraday cage that blocked any link broadcast, then another layer of bricks had been laid on top to make the cage secure.
The cells were the only part of the building Eliters were allowed in – even the informers run by Gorlan’s division. Chaing was very aware of that as he stepped through the big iron gate which separated it from the rest of the basement. I should have put Corilla in here. If I had, she’d still be at university.
Ironically, he realized now, it was also the place he would be taken to if Section Seven ever found out that he had an Eliter heritage as the Warrior Angel claimed. But now he’d finally read the Section Seven briefing documents, he realized the odds of them ever catching her were remote verging on zero. The best Section Seven could do was contain and discredit rumours of her activities.
There was plenty of shouting going on inside seven of the eight cells – the usual shouts of abuse and demands for lawyers – the protests leaking out through the grilles in the doors. So far, they’d managed to bring in fifteen of the seventeen suspects connected to Florian. Chaing didn’t hold out much hope; most of them hadn’t seen Florian since senior school. Two had served in the same regiment conscript unit, but that was seven years ago.
He was really only interested in cell one.
The prisoner chief rose from his desk at the end of the corridor, and saluted.
‘Open it up,’ Chaing told him. ‘And turn off the tape recorder.’
‘Sir?’
‘You heard’
‘Sir, the logs . . .’
‘You’re changing a reel over. Understand? That’s the log entry.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The chief went over to a tall cupboard and opened the top door. Inside, eight tape recorders were sitting on two shelves, their big spools turning slowly. The chief switched off the machine recording cell one.
‘Thank you, Comrade.’
The door had two separate keys. Chaing waited until they were unlocked and the bolts slid back. It was all excessive; the danger from Eliters was never physical.
Castillito was sitting behind the small table in the cell. She was in her late sixties, a beret of close-cut hair coloured a strange violet. Her clothes were the kind modern electric bands favoured, a white blouse and suede waistcoat, inlaid with colourful glass jewels and beaded tassels. The maroon leather skirt came down to her knees, leaving a couple of centimetres of skin visible above her sky-blue boots.
If Chaing had seen that voguish combination on anyone else, he would have assumed they were narnik-heads, smoking away a vacant life. On Castillito, it simply looked elegant.
‘Captain Chaing,’ she said. Her gaze lingered on the frayed edge of the cast sticking out of his tunic sleeve. ‘Glad to see you’ve recovered.’
‘Very good, Comrade,’ he said, sitting across the table. ‘Try and throw me right from the start. Was I supposed to ask: how do you know my name?’
‘Every Eliter in Opole knows your name, captain – especially after Xander Manor.’
‘Yes, I thought you might be aware of that case. After all, you are the head of the Eliter radical movement here in Opole.’
‘You are misinformed, I’m a civil-rights advocate. However, for what it’s worth, I am genuinely sorry about poor Lieutenant Lurvri.’
‘Thank you’
‘It couldn’t have been easy going up against breeder Fallers.’
‘There’s no such thing.’
She laughed in his face.
‘Tell me about your son,’ he said when she’d finished.
‘Tell me why you brought me in here? It must be terrifically important; they wouldn’t even let me have breakfast before they dragged me off.’
‘It is. Your son is the most important person on Bienvenido right now. Where is he?’
‘Am I under arrest? The officer – the very excitable, unprofessional officer, I might add – didn’t have a warrant.’
‘He doesn’t need one. This is a matter of state security.’
‘Really? Has there been a Fall? That’s your only authority to claim that, and the Space Vigilance Office hasn’t declared one – not here’
‘It’s not a Fall. We are operating under nest-alert procedures. That gives me a wide range of special powers.’
‘A nest alert? Just after you’ve cleared up all those breeder Faller monsters at Xander Manor? That doesn’t inspire confidence in the PSR.’
‘Without us, Bienvenido would Fall.’
‘Keep telling yourself that. It might comfort you at night. Nothing else will. The Faller Apocalypse is coming, and you’re wasting your time oppressing Eliters when you should be chasing down nests.’
‘Just tell me about Florian, Comrade.’
‘My son left the city seven years ago. He was driven out by the persecution of our people as perpetrated by your organization. I haven’t seen him since.’
‘Has he contacted you?’
‘Who?’
Chaing brought a fist down hard on the table and Castillito flinched. ‘Don’t,’ he cautioned. ‘Right now I’m being nice to you because I think your son is an idiot who is caught up in something he doesn’t understand. But you need to know this: I will find him. And how I treat him when I do depends a lot on how much trouble he causes me. So I’ll ask again, has he contacted you?’
‘You weren’t quick enough, you know.’
‘Quick enough for what?’
‘When your gangsters with badges came for me, they didn’t stop me from linking to my friends. I was giving them a running commentary all the way here. And it isn’t just me you’ve snatched illegally, is it? Lawyers have already filed motions for release with a judge. There’s going to be a citizens’ protest outside. A lot of citizens. It’s not just Eliters that you antagonize.’
‘Imagine how frightened I am.’
‘You know, one day you really should consider doing the maths. There are more Eliters in Opole than there are PSR personnel. Check with Kukaida if you don’t believe me. In fact, there are more Eliters on Bienvenido than there are PSR; we outnumber you quite heavily.’
Chaing sat back in his chair. ‘I saw him, you know. I actually talked to him four days ago. He made me think he was a simple forest warden. Very clever, your son. Smart.’
He almost missed it – a flicker of uncertainty showed in her eyes for an instant. ‘You’ve seen Florian?’
‘Yes. That is one pitiful life he chose for himself. Mind you, I can see how he’d think it was preferable to living at home with you.’
‘Oh. Gosh. Ouch. I’m so devastated. Please, let me confess everything to you.’
‘Florian is the nest alert.’
She pursed her lips as she stared at him. ‘If Florian has Fallen, you wouldn’t be asking me for help. A Faller-copy of Florian isn’t going to come running to his human mother. So what is this about?’
‘State secret. But it’s bad. If you help me, I can go easy on him.’
‘Really? Are you going to put that in writing for me?’
‘No, because you’re completely dependent on me. This all boils down to my whims. So you have to work really hard on not annoying me.’
‘He hasn’t Fallen, yet you’ve declared a nest alert. Dear me, have you been lying, Comrade captain? Have you abused your position and the state apparatus for another purpose? What really happened out there in the valley?’
‘Who is his father?’
‘A very high-ranking PSR officer. He bribed me not to reveal his name on the birth certificate, paid the fine and everything. Oops, did that go on the recording?’
Chaing grinned at her, despising her smug expression. His usual technique wasn’t going to work on her, he could see that. ‘Funny.’ He slapped her across the face. Hard.
Castillito went over backwards, crying in shock. Chaing came round the table slowly and watched her squirm around on the floor. Blood was dripping from the corner of her mouth. He bent down to deliver the ultimatum, to make it very clear what a piece of subhuman filth she was. How he owned her.
Her hand lashed up fast. A rigid forefinger jabbed into his eye. He roared in pain and shock, staggering backwards. Castillito was up after him, spinning round, a leg extending. The heel of her boot struck his cast. It cracked, and the pain-flash of the impact was incredible. He couldn’t see anything but a red haze. Nausea made him dizzy, and his legs nearly gave way.
‘Crudding Uracus!’ He tottered back and banged into the wall, almost slumping to the ground. Eliters were fast. Eliters were strong. He’d forgotten the very basics of his profession, he’d been so angry with her defiance.
‘Sir?’ The prisoner chief was knocking on the door. ‘Sir, is everything all right?’
Castillito was standing still, staring at him in contempt as she dabbed at her split lip. ‘Well, is it?’ she asked mockingly. ‘Or are you hoping the Warrior Angel will come and save you? Again.’
Chaing gaped at her. She does know! I crudding knew it. She is the head radical, she must be.
‘Sir?’ The key started to rattle in the lock.
‘Go away, Comrade,’ Chaing shouted. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Now, let me tell you what’s going to happen,’ Castillito said, righting her chair. ‘If I don’t walk out of here within another two hours, details of your Eliter heritage will be anonymously delivered to Gorlan and your precious Stonal.’
‘I’m not an Eliter,’ he growled, his undamaged hand pressing against his eye. The pain was bad. He worried she’d damaged the eye permanently. Bitch!
‘The way you react to Eliters shows how much you’re over-compensating, Chaing. Self-loathing isn’t healthy. In the end, it’ll eat you up. I’ve seen it happen before. Accept what you are. It’s not like I’m asking you to help us. When the Faller Apocalypse strikes, you’ll need us.’
‘The day after Uracus closes up for good!’
‘You know you’re an Eliter. You know there are breeder Fallers. You’ve met the Warrior Angel. Just how much truth can you keep on denying to yourself? We’re on the same side, Chaing. We want to defeat the Fallers. Why can’t you acknowledge that?’
‘If you want to help me, tell me where your son is.’
Castillito sighed as she sat down. Her expression was like the one his primary school teacher used when she was disappointed with him. ‘Exposing you isn’t a bluff. I sent a time-coded file about you to several friends when your people came for me. And as I can’t link to my friends from in here, I can’t stop the file from opening in two hours.’
He rubbed his eye, which just made it worse. ‘I don’t trust you.’
‘You don’t have a choice. Do you know what they do to Eliters who’ve wormed their way into the very heart of the PSR? There’s a furnace in the lowest basement level of this building for the central heating and hot water. They will throw you into it alive. You can trust me on that, because that’s what you’d do to a traitor. Isn’t it?’
‘I have friends, too. If you ever make them suspicious of me, I’ll know about it, because
they won’t believe you. That gives me time. And I will use it to come for you. A furnace will be the least of your worries.’
‘I don’t want to hurt you in any way, Chaing. It’s clearly going to take you a while for you to come to terms with what you are: one of us. But despite that, I have hopes for you, great hopes. One day you might even sit in the director’s chair.’
‘I will never betray the PSR!’
‘The PSR does a good job fighting the Faller nests. That’s what you need to focus on.’
He gave her a weary look. ‘That’s what she said.’
‘I know.’
‘You’ve met her, haven’t you?’
‘No. Not in the flesh. I’m not important enough. But friends receive communications occasionally. And we send stuff back. Who do you think alerted her about the new kind of encrypted links in Opole? Who alerted her that you’d found a nest? Who do you owe your pitiful life to?’
‘I owe you nothing!’
‘What has my son done to bring all this down on him? Florian hasn’t Fallen. You would have tested his blood when you talked to him – the PSR always does that. So what has happened?’ The way she said it made it a rhetorical question. ‘The regiment was deployed in Albina valley, and you’ve been chasing him ever since. Why?’
‘You’re the head of the Opole radicals,’ he countered. ‘That’s not coincidence. Did you send him out there seven years ago? Has he been waiting for this?’
‘For what? And for the record, I’m not the leader of the Opole radicals. I am exactly what those precious files of yours say I am: a civil-rights activist. A good one, but that’s all. There is no conspiracy, Chaing. There never is. It’s all part of the lie Yaki feeds you on Stonal’s behalf.’
‘If Florian contacts you, the first – the only – thing you are going to do is call me.’
Castillito’s victory smile was modest. ‘Of course. Do you have a link code yet, Comrade?’
*
It was the middle of the second day when the pings with Florian’s address code started to appear. Matthieu had been back to the mod stable several times, bringing Florian baskets of food, then yesterday afternoon he handed over some cloth and a sewing kit. It was a much better sewing kit than Joffler’s, and Florian set about stitching together a new dress, with shoulder straps that had buttons so they could be extended as Essie grew.
A Night Without Stars Page 31
