Stealing Light (19 page)

Gardner closed his eyes for a second or two, as if steadying his breathing. Corso sat quietly where he was, one hand pressed against his belly.

‘How did you know to come back?’ Dakota croaked. She let herself slide to the floor with her back resting against a console.

Gardner shrugged. ‘I’ve only known Udo a little while, but he tends to be extremely predictable. Besides, I’m keen to protect my investments.’

‘And is it really worth it?’ Dakota asked, keeping her eye on Corso who was, after all, a Freeholder like the others. ‘Working with people like that, I mean?’

‘Just remember you’re on their territory here, and we all know why a lot of them don’t trust machine-heads.’

Dakota laughed incredulously. ‘Then why hire me?’

‘If we don’t secure our tender, we don’t have the option of returning home,’ Corso explained. ‘Losing the new colony would be more than our lives are worth. That kind of thing tends to make a man like Udo edgy.’

Dakota looked to both of them, one after the other. ‘Let’s get this straight. If he tries something like that again,
I’ll
kill him. Got that?’

Gardner’s expression was weary as he moved towards the exit. ‘Then you’d better watch yourself carefully,’ he replied. ‘Do your job, and try and keep the surprises to a minimum. For the sake of my health, too, not just yours.’

Dakota stared at the exit for several seconds after Gardner had gone. To her annoyance Corso now had a wide grin on his face.

‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded, picking herself up.

‘Nothing, really. I just have a habit of getting into fights I can’t win.’

She found herself at a momentary loss of what else to say or do before anger took over. ‘How am I supposed to do anything if I have to constantly worry about being attacked by you people? Give me a reason why I should even stick around after what just happened!’

Corso eyed her thoughtfully and shrugged. ‘So why
are
you sticking around?’

Dakota struggled to find an answer and instead felt an intense wave of embarrassment wash over her. She stepped over to Corso and offered him a hand. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.

Corso took the proffered hand and stood up laboriously, wincing as he pressed several fingers to his belly. ‘Forget it,’ he replied. ‘Udo’s a moron. As far as I’m concerned, he shouldn’t even be on this ship.’

‘So . . .’ she shrugged, ‘why did you help me?’

Corso shot her a curious glance. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

She gave him a bewildered look. ‘You’re on the same side as them.’

‘You think we’re allies?’ Corso laughed. ‘Anything but. These people are my enemies.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You couldn’t have known,’ Corso replied, making to leave the bridge.

‘Wait.’ She put out a hand and stopped him. ‘Should you even have told me that?’

He looked back at her. ‘You mean, will it get me into trouble? Maybe. But I can’t do my job for them if they cut out my tongue.’

She gripped his arm hard. ‘Look, maybe you could tell me some things . . .’

Corso’s grin lacked sympathy. ‘Just do your job, Mala. Stay out of the way of the two Mansells. They’re killers.’

He made for the exit.

‘Udo said something, just before you walked in on us,’ Dakota called after him in desperation. ‘That if I
only knew.
Like there was something I haven’t been told about this expedition.’

Corso turned, his face as unrevealing as a mask. ‘Then he was speaking out of turn.’

He exited the bridge and Dakota stood there in silence for several minutes, filled with an unpleasantly familiar sense of foreboding.

—

Corso found his way partly along a corridor before stopping and leaning his back against a wall with a groan. His whole body hurt.

It was bad enough he was trapped on the
Hyperion
with men like Senator Arbenz and Kieran Mansell. Now he’d managed to make a deadly enemy of Udo as well.
Perhaps I’ve just got a suicidal streak. Well, at least that would explain some things.

People back home were depending on him to do whatever it took, within the bounds of honour, to save them from a very unpleasant fate. Getting into a fight with Udo wasn’t helping them any. He’d acted without thinking . . .

Face it, you’d have intervened anyway.

He pushed himself away from the wall with a groan, and stared bleakly up and down the corridor. More than any other time since they’d left Redstone, he wanted to be back home.

Every day that passed made it clearer to him just how much Udo was a liability. Only now, he’d as good as told Oorthaus they’d hired her for a job other than the one they’d told her about. And that on top of threatening to kill her. That just made it even more likely she’d try and disappear once they got to the coreship. And then . . . well, then they’d either have to find another machine-head stupid or desperate enough to accept their terms, or try and figure out some other way of salvaging the Magi derelict when the time came.

And Corso had already learnt enough about the derelict to be certain their chances of salvaging it without Mala were close to nothing.

—

Still shaking, Dakota found her way back to her quarters, where she dimmed the lights and let her Ghost start to calm and soothe her with a steady trickle of empathogens into her cerebral tissues. Then she slept for a little while, curled up in her cot like a child, lost in the warm ocean tides of her back brain.

After a little while, the
Piri Reis
came to her, a soft, comforting presence in her thoughts.

Good enough for me,
Dakota replied silently.

Fresh knowledge started thudding into her forebrain, in sufficient quantity to overwhelm her Ghost and leave her momentarily disoriented.

According to what
Piri
had discovered, Lucas Corso was some kind of historian. A ‘xeno-data archaeologist’, to be precise, though she wasn’t at all sure what that was . . .

Her Ghost obligingly filled her in: xeno-data archaeologists attempted to glean understanding of Shoal super-science, usually by remote analysis. It was often, by necessity, an extremely covert science. In particular, Corso picked apart pieces of programming languages used by the Shoal.

Which sounded dull enough, but Dakota couldn’t begin to imagine what it had to do with exploring a new solar system. Yet she was sure that contained somewhere in this nugget of information lay a clue to what Udo had almost let slip earlier.

What was it he’d said?
‘If you only knew.’

Maybe, Dakota decided, she really didn’t want to know.

What she needed more immediately was something concrete against the Mansells—Udo, in particular. Halfheartedly, she had her Ghost circuits scan the morass of new data in the faint hope of finding something usable. At the very least she could find out more about how to deal with Udo the next time he—

‘Oh shit,’ she said aloud, though her voice sounded muffled in the cramped space of her cabin. ‘You have to be kidding me.’

the
Piri Reis
informed her.

Dakota couldn’t figure out if she was appalled or elated. Probably both.
I thought those two were supposed to be running a security operation. So how did
—

Piri
explained.

Yeah, yeah. I get it. They have to make do with what they can get. But you’d at least think he could keep it in his pants for the duration of the expedition, rather than take the chance of someone digging this up.

She couldn’t keep the huge grin off her face. If anyone had been watching her at that moment in the privacy of her cabin, they’d have thought she’d completely lost it.

She scanned rapidly through more of the information, finding other pieces of electronic mail also using out-of-date encryption methods.
Udo, Udo, Udo.

Dakota’s Ghost worked overtime cross-referencing the decrypted messages with other items stored in the
Hyperion’s
data stacks. They were as good as transparent. Yet for all that, neither she nor
Piri
could find anything that might explain what Udo had said to her on the bridge. Nor could she find details of the system they were intending to visit—not even its name.

The feeling that she’d walked into something bad all over again had been growing ever since she’d boarded the
Hyperion,
and with Josef’s apparent murder her fears had taken an exponential leap into the unknown.

Cross-reference, Piri. What would happen to Udo if any of this became known back on Redstone?

Piri
just then dumped another mountain of data into her Ghost circuits. A growing awareness of the complexities of Freehold society spread through her mind.

Piri
added.

Dakota nodded, biting the corner of her lip and barely able to suppress a giggle. Udo hadn’t struck her as quite so . . . kinky. If she had it right, if what she had just found out about Udo Mansell became public knowledge among the Freehold, not only was he finished, but so was anyone associated with him.

The Senator would certainly be tainted by any of this information if it became public knowledge.

This,
Dakota thought with a deep sense of satisfaction,
is what I call real leverage.

Fourteen

A day later, they finally rendezvoused with the coreship.

As they made their approach, its bulk filled every available screen on board the
Hyperion.
Dakota sat in the interface chair on the bridge, her Ghost channelling to her reams of data concerning the energies flickering in great sheets around the Shoal vessel.

The coreship itself was spherical in shape, perhaps a hundred kilometres in circumference, like a world in itself. Its surface was pockmarked with gaping holes through which the hollow interior could be glimpsed. Beneath the vessel’s vast curving roof, supported by huge pillars a kilometre thick, could be found a far greater habitable environment surrounding the central core. And deep within that core could be found the mysterious transluminal drive that pushed the craft through space at enormous multiples of the speed of light.

Rumour had it the core contained a liquid environment—a lightness, abyssal ocean in which resided the craft’s Shoal crew. Some trick of its planet engine prevented it from exerting any significant gravitational pull on the
Hyperion
as Dakota followed a standard docking manoeuvre.

Even though she couldn’t see them directly through the interface chair’s petals, Dakota was nonetheless aware of Arbenz and Gardner paying close attention to the bridge’s monitors while she focused on the multi-layered data passing through her implants.

She could feel the weight of their attention being focused on her through the petals, judging and appraising her piloting skill. If she screwed up in any way, automated guidance systems would kick in and dock the
Hyperion
automatically.

But she wasn’t about to let that happen.

She merged with the
Hyperion’s
primitive intelligence and guided the frigate’s vast bulk through one of the kilometre-wide apertures in the coreship’s hull. The bridge was temporarily under zero gee, the gravity wheel having been stopped for the duration of their voyage aboard the coreship. The bridge now sat at the bottom of the stilled wheel.

Dense layers of rock and compacted alloys appeared to rush towards and then past her on either side. A moment later the curving interior surface rose above her viewpoint, and the
Hyperion
was falling, on a cushion of shaped fields, towards the outskirts of a sprawling city.

A flicker of warning data —

A burst of violent energy shot through one of the aft drive bays like a muscle spasm, pre-ignition processes flickering with exotic fire deep within the engine cores.

Not good. Not good at all.

Dakota fully melded with her Ghost, making full use of its intuitive algorithms as a heavy, rattling vibration passed through the frigate. She was distantly aware of Gardner cursing and muttering somewhere beyond the petals of the chair.

There,
she had it: a software failure. Something Dakota couldn’t possibly have missed, unless . . .

The
Hyperion
was starting to push against the shaped fields that bore it downwards, as the main drive threatened to self-activate, the hull screaming in protest at the unexpected stresses. Dakota rerouted fresh instructions past the problem—a kind of logjam of erroneous data -and the drive finally powered down. Then it was a natter of clever calculations and sheer guesswork to steady the Freehold vessel as it continued to descend.

Whatever had gone wrong, at least it was over. Dakota finally let out a long, shuddering sigh, and tasted the sweat on her upper lip.

The
Hyperion
continued to drop slowly down towards a landing cradle, from which grasping, cilia-like constructs reached upwards like hungry anemones. The frigate rumbled again as the cilia moulded around its hull, cradling it with ease. One or two other ships—not quite on the same, grandiose, old-fashioned scale as the
Hyperion—
were similarly cradled a few kilometres distant.

Dakota shut off her dataflow and stared into the darkness surrounding her. Throughout the whole docking procedure, the
Hyperion
had practically become an extension of her body. It would have taken a crew of at least half a dozen non-machine-head technicians and engineers to carry out the same rendezvous, but Dakota had done it on her own without so much as moving a muscle.

She reached up with one hand and tapped the manual release button, standing as the petals surrounding the interface chair unfolded around her to reveal the bridge.

‘Did you cause that glitch?’ she asked the Senator. ‘Or do you let just anyone mess with the engine systems?’

Arbenz grinned. ‘You coped very well.’

‘Do you have any idea how
dangerous
it is, altering base routines like that?’

‘There were backups, just in case. I could have shut the engines down in a moment, no harm done.’

‘Because you wanted to see if I screwed up?’

Arbenz shrugged, looking smug and self-satisfied. Dakota felt a deep urge to violence.

‘But you didn’t screw up,’ said Arbenz. ‘You did very well. I’d even say you’re about as good as Josef Marados said you were.’

‘Don’t ever try something like that again,’ she spat at him. Gardner listened impassively to their exchange, with arms folded.

Arbenz spread his hands in an open gesture. ‘No more surprises, I promise.’

She nodded in silence. As satisfied as Arbenz seemed with her performance, she would have loved to be able to see the look on his face when he realized she wasn’t going to stick around.

—

‘Let me get this clear,’ Dakota railed, several hours later. ‘Unless I heard you wrong, I can’t leave the
Hyperion
at all for as long as we’re on board this coreship?’

She had tracked Gardner down in one of the mess halls in the gravity wheel, where he’d been engaged in conversation with the Senator while Ascension news feeds scrolled down one wall. The other walls of the mess were decorated with Spartan images of valour that fitted in appropriately with the whole Freehold value system. Broadswords certainly appeared to be a popular motif.

Gardner looked up at her with the kind of expression normally reserved for unruly children. ‘We made it clear from the start that we’re on very sensitive business. As long as we’re on board this coreship we’re wide open to the outside scrutiny of anyone who’s curious to know what we’re up to. Remember, there are mercenary fleets who specialize in jumping contract claims by keeping tabs on the movements of frigates like this.’

‘So you need to keep me locked up in here, because that way there’s less chance they’ll figure out what you’re up to when they see a giant fucking
warship
sitting on the horizon.’

Gardner’s face was blank for a moment, while Arbenz merely chuckled without looking up.

‘Listen,’ Gardner replied angrily. ‘You’re a valuable asset, one we paid a lot of money for. There are people out there who’ll happily snatch you off the streets of Ascension and take your skull apart to find out what you already know about us. We also paid to have this core-ship make a special diversion to our destination, which is as good as advertising the fact we’re trying to set up a new colonial contract. Do you have any idea how expensive all this has been? How much it cost me personally, and also the Freehold?’ Gardner waved at Arbenz with a fork. ‘It’s
your
job to protect us against anyone who gets too interested.’

‘Then perhaps you’d care to tell me exactly where it is we’re going? Or are you saving that for a birthday surprise?’

Gardner glared at her. ‘You’re just being dramatic.’

‘I’ve just found out I’m being literally held prisoner here, and you’re surprised by my reaction?’

‘Miss Oorthaus, you’re not a prisoner,’ said Arbenz mildly, finally putting down his fork and leaning back.

‘Then why did Kieran Mansell just stop me on my way to the airlocks, and tell me I’m not allowed to leave the ship?’

Gardner wiped his mouth with a cloth and pushed his plate to one side. ‘Look—’

‘No, it’s all right,’ said Arbenz, studying Dakota keenly. ‘You can go—but not alone.’

Gardner turned red. ‘Senator—’

‘No, Mr Gardner. We’ll attract even more attention by never disembarking at all. Are there other machine-heads here, Mala?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because you can sense them from a distance, and they can sense you?’

Gardner looked nonplussed.

‘So really, anyone who wants to know we have a machine-head pilot on board already knows. Our secret is already out, Mr Gardner.’

Gardner remained unpersuaded. ‘It feels like too much of a risk.’

‘Only if she goes out alone.’ Arbenz turned back to Dakota. ‘Yes, you can go, but only with Kieran. We’ll
all
be operating under a strict curfew when it comes to departing this vessel. I have some business to conduct here too.’

‘Udo, not Kieran,’ she insisted.

Arbenz held her gaze for several seconds. ‘Any reason for the preference?’

‘He’s marginally less ugly.’

‘I’m surprised by that.’

‘Why?’ Dakota replied.

‘I heard about what happened on the bridge.’

‘I don’t recall receiving an apology from any of you.’

Gardner leaned forward. ‘If you’re thinking of trying to get back at him for attacking you, then I’m afraid it’s not up to you to decide what—’

Arbenz put up his hand to shush Gardner, an amused look on his face.
He thinks this is funny,
Dakota reflected: Udo getting into fights with some skinny little girl.

‘No, it’s not her decision,’ Arbenz agreed, without even looking at Gardner. ‘But it would be good to have Udo off the ship for a while, don’t you agree?’

Gardner looked caught. ‘What exactly is your business in Ascension, anyway?’ he asked her.

‘I’m going to see an old friend. Another machine-head. If I don’t show my face at all, he’ll start wondering why I never leave the
Hyperion.
Given it’s owned by the Freehold,’ she continued with a shrug, ‘any machine-heads in Ascension might draw the conclusion I’m being held prisoner, don’t you think?’

—

She got her way.

Dakota immediately made her way straight back to the aft airlocks. The frigate had been designed with coreships in mind: a wide lip had extruded itself from the hull, below the airlock, so passengers could simply step outside and feel a fresh breeze against their skin.

It was like standing inside a roofed canyon the size of a continent. As she looked up, Dakota saw fusion globes dotting the underside of the coreship’s outer crust. A couple of dozen metres below where she stood, a floor carpeted with grassland extended all the way to the outer suburbs of the city of Ascension, a sprawling metropolis that filled half of the space allocated to humanity. But instead of solid walls separating them from the rest of the vessel’s interior, there were instead sheets of faintly flickering semi-opaque energy that were anchored beneath the ceiling’s massive supporting pillars.

She turned to see Udo step out through the airlock, accompanied by Lucas Corso.

‘I want to take a look at Ascension,’ Corso explained, on seeing Dakota’s annoyed expression. ‘I didn’t even get the opportunity to explore the last coreship I was in.’

Dakota cocked her head to one side, puzzled. ‘Why not?’

Corso shrugged, and she guessed he wasn’t comfortable talking about himself. ‘Too busy with my work.’

And wouldn’t I like to know just exactly what you’re doing here, Mr Data. Archaeologist.

‘Your first time anywhere other than your homeworld, and you were too
busy?’

Corso flicked a glance towards Udo, who glared back at him in response. Neither of them replied.

‘I don’t have time to play tourist guide,’ Dakota snapped at Corso. ‘I have . . .’ Further words stalled in her throat.

Udo gave her a toothy smile. ‘People to see? Places to go?’

Fuck you.
‘What do you think I’m going to do then, run away?’

‘You could, but I can run faster.’ Udo laughed at his own bad joke. ‘What’ve you got against my brother, anyway?’ he added. ‘Seeing as you asked for me specially.’

‘How does it feel being such a shithead, Udo?’

‘It feels great, Mala.’

‘You’ve visited this particular coreship before?’ Corso asked her, clearly trying to break the current thread of conversation.

‘I’ve been in Ascension a few times in the past, yeah.’

And I’m not the only one who’s familiar with this place,
she thought, shooting a glance at Udo and remembering what she’d discovered.

She spared him a thin smile.

—

An air taxi had been hovering in the vicinity of the
Hyperion
ever since it had docked. Udo beckoned it down, and made a show of getting in first and taking the front seat directly behind the dashboard unit that housed the craft’s cheaply manufactured brain. He wasn’t as subtle as Kieran, either, Dakota reflected. There was too much of a swagger in Udo Mansell.

Ascension was soon spread out below them in all its seedy blackened glory. If the view from a couple of hundred metres up was anything to judge by, it had changed little since her last visit there.

She surveyed a landscape of grey and black concrete interspersed with open areas of patchy green—fire zones from the civil war of fifty years before. In the further distance the city came to an abrupt halt against the shaped fields that kept humanity separate from other species inhabiting the coreship, but with different atmospheric and gravitational requirements.

These days, two-thirds of the city was back under Consortium control, while a few remaining warlords still claimed control over a few outlying districts. The Shoal didn’t appear to give a damn what went on inside their coreships, at least up to a certain point. Fission weapons remained a big no-no, even though there were a thousand urban myths about people somehow stumbling into otherwise forbidden alien sectors of the coreships and finding there only sterile, irradiated ruins.

Some humans lived their entire lives on board a core-ship, never seeing beyond these narrow slivers of apportioned living space. The coreship might travel the length and breadth of the galaxy, but once it left the minuscule portion of the Milky Way humanity was permitted to see, the surface ports were sealed until it returned to within Consortium space. Whatever lay beyond would therefore always remain a mystery even to its most long-term inhabitants.