Stealing Light (30 page)

Kieran began to head off, clumsily treading on hard-copy data with his boots. Images of crystal arrays and interface algorithms flickered and spasmed on the hard-copies as they scattered underfoot.

Moving slowly, they made their way back to the original entrance. Behind them, the vibrations transformed into a deep, guttural roar, as if some creature older than human civilization had begun stalking them through the passageways.

—

The derelict had finally given up its silence.

At first, it appeared to Dakota to be loudly radiating its presence to anyone or anything that cared to listen. But then it became rapidly clear that the signal was manifesting on an extremely obscure frequency not used by any of the known interstellar tachyon transceiver relays. She would never even have noticed it if her Ghost hadn’t been engaged in the process of monitoring the derelict across every conceivable transmission spectrum.

Even so, what was emerging was presumably highly encrypted, since it appeared to her Ghost as untranslatable gibberish. The resulting signal was of such low power and limited range it was hard to guess what it might be trying to communicate with.

Is there any way we can figure out what it’s saying, and who to?
she asked of
Piri
Alpha.

Directional? You mean it’s deliberately aiming at something?

The ship replied by displaying maps of the Nova Arctis system. Lines stabbed out from Theona and Dymas towards one of the inner planets: not Newfall but the system’s innermost world, a tiny ball of rock barely outside the corona of the sun it orbited. This planet was called Ikaria.

What the hell was to be found
there?

—

Two six-man squads were scrambled from the
Agartha
in response to the sudden breakdown in communications with the derelict, dropping down on tails of chemical fire to Theona’s icy surface in combat pods that spilled the pressure-suited figures inside on to the ice immediately adjacent to the surface base.

By now less then twenty minutes had passed since the loss of communications with the derelict.

Should have brought more than one sub,
thought Gardner, standing back and watching the rescue operation being mounted from inside the ground base. But everything had been so rushed . . . they’d been working hard and fast, fearful that the Shoal might already be on to them, or if not yet, at least soon. There simply hadn’t been enough time to acquire all the resources they really needed.

Gardner could happily live without Kieran Mansell -a murderous, psychotic son of a bitch, if ever there was one—but Lucas Corso was indispensable. His specialist knowledge was the key to the derelict’s secrets. Leaving him down there with only Kieran to guard him seemed the sheerest blind folly.

Now, they had to wait for the squads to cycle through and get on board the sub. Then the long journey down again—and only then would they begin to glean any idea of what had happened.

This whole operation reeked of disorganized panic.

He glanced over at Senator Arbenz: a strutting, stiff-lipped, pumped-up little man; quite a ridiculous figure if Gardner hadn’t already been aware just how dangerous he could be. A few months ago the Freehold had been a defeated people on the verge of absolute retreat, but now they operated under the delusion they were the children of destiny, forged in war (or some such chauvinistic baloney Arbenz had spouted during one of his frequent rants) and destined to conquer the stars.

If the whole thing weren’t so pathetic, Gardner would have laughed. He needed the Freehold for now . . . but at some point something would have to be done. Leaving the transluminal drive in the hands of the Senator and his cronies was like placing a rocket launcher in the hands of a child. It was just asking for trouble.

Laden beneath their heavy vacuum-equipped combat gear, the troops entered the base, and began trudging through the network of clanging corridors and down to the submersible waiting for them in its pool. Along with the Senator, Gardner followed them.

‘Something must have been triggered by whatever Corso fed into the derelict’s computer systems,’ Gardner muttered. ‘God knows what’s happening down there now. I said all along we didn’t have enough contingency plans in place for unexpected major setbacks.’

Arbenz merely shot him an annoyed look; the tension between them had been growing. It was obvious to Gardner that the Senator simply wasn’t equipped to deal with even the notional concept of failure. For him only victory was possible.

‘God indeed only knows what’s happening down there, Mr Gardner, but remember God is on our side.’

‘Or possibly the Uchidans and Bourdain know too, given the security leaks you’ve been neglecting to tell me about.’

Gardner knew he was walking a dangerous edge, but he was finding it harder and harder to bite his tongue. He had already taken it upon himself to make coded queries to his associates back home, about contracting a fleet to wrest control of the derelict from the Freehold.

But the partners were still too cautious, too scared of drawing attention to what was happening out here, and drawing yet more potential combatants into a risky war over an unpredictable prize. Convincing them otherwise was going to take time Gardner wasn’t sure he had.

‘Don’t worry, Mr Gardner,’ Arbenz snarled, ‘you’ll get your share in the manufacturing and technology rights, once we acquire the drive. And I hope you’ll enjoy spending every last penny of it in hell.’

Gardner nodded, and kept his expression cool.

—

Corso and Kieran had almost reached the passage connecting to the external airlock when the gravity flipped again.

It had happened another four times so far since they had escaped from the room containing the interface chair. At one point the gravity cut off completely, leaving them in freefall for several panicked seconds.

The worst part of it was they were back in the part of the derelict which had until now been deemed safe. Clearly that was a mistake, and whatever countermeasures the derelict was currently implementing remained effective throughout its structure.

Sheer luck had saved them from being dashed to pieces when a passageway had flipped. The process was slow enough, they had time to react: unfortunately the passageway was a long one, and had rapidly transformed into a deep vertical shaft even as they raced along it.

Kieran had pushed them both down against the floor so rather than falling straight down, they instead slid down at an increasing rate as the gravity shifted. They still managed to hit the far end of the passageway with considerable force, and Corso blacked out for a couple of seconds. When he came to, Kieran was already hauling him by the shoulders towards the airlock and safety. From the way Kieran held himself and the expression on his face, Corso could see he’d been injured in some way.

After a couple of metres of this, Corso managed to stumble upright. A clanging sound reverberated from just ahead and he realized the submersible must have come back down and docked.

It was well ahead of schedule, so obviously somebody had figured out they were in trouble.

They rounded the last corner, almost collapsing on top of each other as the airlock door swung ponderously open. Several heavily armed Freeholder troops were stamping through it towards them, wearing combat armour too bulky to progress easily through the confined spaces of the tunnel. Corso laughed weakly as the soldiers were forced to shuffle towards them sideways in single file.

‘Get the hell back!’ Kieran yelled, waving at them to retreat.

Their faces were invisible behind their reinforced visors, but after a moment they started to shuffle back into the submersible.

The howling noise manifested itself once more from somewhere far around the curve of the passageway, sounding like it was getting closer. It was impossible not to imagine some terrible, monstrous apparition stalking them through the derelict’s twisting interior spaces.

Corso glanced up at the screen still roughly welded into an excision in the wall and noticed that the interior of the derelict was reshaping itself. Corridors and rooms disappeared from the map even as he watched, while others appeared that he was sure hadn’t previously existed.

In that same moment, Corso saw that Lunden and Ivanovich were gone. They would find no trace of their bodies now, as had been the case with anyone else who had disappeared into the derelict’s maw.

Kieran’s face turned pale and he slid to the ground, unconscious. Corso dropped down next to him and found the man still had a pulse, but his pupils were dilated and his breathing staccato and shaky. Corso didn’t feel that much better himself—sheer terror had helped him forget temporarily about the pain. One of the troops saw what had happened and headed back their way again, lifting Kieran up and leading the way back into the submersible.

He’d been so sure the derelict would accept his programming. He still couldn’t believe he’d overlooked anything. But would the Senator understand that when he demanded to know what had happened?

Twenty

At first, when Dakota quietly entered the surgery, Corso had been staring down at a workscreen he held in both hands, a faraway look on his face. One shoulder was encased in a flexible med unit that kept his damaged tissues anaesthetized, while repairing the damage beneath at an accelerated rate.

Both Corso and Kieran Mansell had been brought back to the
Hyperion
a few hours previous, since it apparently had better medical facilities than the base on Theona.

Empty medical caskets were stacked up on either wall, in steel racks extending the full length of the medical facility. Udo was still encased inside one of these, but he was likely to be back out in a day or two. The external readings made it clear he’d been undergoing a slow and difficult recovery.

His brother Kieran was in better shape, but only just. He was in the intensive treatment bay, an adjustable palette with an autodoc suspended from the ceiling above his deeply sedated form. Its articulated arms were at the moment curled up and at rest, like some enormous metallic spider.

Dakota studied Kieran’s life-signs monitors and wondered what would happen if she smothered him with one of his own pillows. At the very least it would be a mercy killing.

Corso, on the other hand, was conscious and sitting up. His complexion was pale, as if the blood had been drained out of him.

She stared at him, full of nervous energy, until he finally looked up and became aware of her presence. He blinked in surprise as if he wasn’t sure her presence was a good or bad thing.

‘How are you?’ she asked.

He took a moment to think about this. ‘Been better.’

‘I heard about what happened, how the derelict attacked you. What went wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ Corso shook his head, no longer looking at her, an abstract expression on his face. ‘That’s the whole problem.’

Dakota went silent in blank incomprehension.

Corso elaborated. ‘I mean, I did everything right. What happened . . . shouldn’t have happened. It was like . . . sabotage.’ He shrugged. ‘I swear, it was like deliberate sabotage.’

‘Did you know the derelict sent a transmission the exact same moment we lost contact with you?’

Corso was clearly taken aback by this.

‘The signal was very tightly focused, aimed towards the inner system,’ Dakota explained. She nodded at his workscreen. ‘Any ideas?’

Corso glanced down at the workscreen, clearly confused. ‘I don’t know anything about a transmission. They didn’t. . .’

He stared up at her dumbly.

Dakota decided there wasn’t any more time to waste.

‘We’re going to have a long talk, Lucas, somewhere where we can’t be found. A lot has happened over the past couple of hours, and that’s why they’re keeping information from you.’

She put a hand under his arm and tried to guide him off the cot. Indicators flashed red on the wall behind him and he jerked his arm back.

‘Hey—’

‘Do you want to get out of here alive or not?’ she hissed. ‘I don’t like to be the bearer of bad news, but the fact is we’re both as good as . . .’

She glanced to one side, seeing Kieran was still unconscious in his bay. Even so, speaking seditiously like this anywhere near him made her deeply uncomfortable. She grabbed Corso’s arm again, this time violently wrenching him sideways across the cot until his feet slid towards the ground. He pushed her away.

‘Shit,’
he said with a grimace. ‘What the fuck is the matter with you?’ he scowled. ‘Just . . . wait a minute.’ He stood up, carefully.

‘No time,’ she replied, pulling him towards the door. He stumbled after her in a daze. She shoved him through into the corridor beyond and pushed him up against a wall. ‘Now listen,’ she said, her voice still a low whisper. ‘I’ve been monitoring tachyon-net traffic between the
Agartha
and Redstone, and if what I’m nearing is true you and I might be as good as dead. Now tell me: who exactly is Senator Martin Corso? Is he a relative of yours?’

Corso stiffened, his eyes growing wide.

‘How about Mercedes Corso?’ she tried.

‘Where did you hear those names?’ he demanded.

‘You once told me the Senator and the rest of them were your enemies. You also said you were coerced into coming here. Care to elaborate on that?’

Corso made a move to grab her by the throat, but she caught his arm and held it away. ‘I’ll tell you how I know, but first you need to calm down,’ she hissed. ‘I think you’re in almost as much trouble as I am, and I can prove it.’

He laughed, the sound bitter. ‘You’ve barely said a truthful word since I first set eyes on you. You came on board under a false ID—’

‘And you know why? Because I’m a machine-head. I trained to be one all my life. I come from Bellhaven. It’s a job that came with serious prestige, until everything turned to shit and the Consortium shut down the development programmes.’

She swallowed hard. This wasn’t easy for her to talk about. ‘And, ever since, I’ve had to deal with people who treat me like I’m some kind of monster. I wasn’t responsible for what happened on Redstone but every machine-head in the Consortium, most of whom probably hadn’t even heard of Redstone, got punished for it. Every single day that I wake up, I remember what happened there. In detail. So yes, Lucas, I came on board under a false ID, but that’s mainly because I was getting on board a ship filled with Redstone Freeholders.’

Corso reached up and gently prised Dakota’s remaining hand away from his shoulder. ‘Senator Corso is my father, and Mercedes is my younger sister. They’re all the family I have, and they’re hostages to a faction within the Freehold government that’s headed by Arbenz. If I don’t do exactly what Arbenz wants, they’re both as good as dead.’

‘You’re being
blackmailed?’

‘Yes.’

Dakota felt the blood drain from her face. In a moment, everything had changed.
Everything.
She glanced back through the door to where Kieran still lay comatose. Colour-coded displays of his nervous, respiratory and muscular systems flickered from moment to moment.

‘There’ve been some recent events back on Redstone,’ she explained. ‘I don’t think Arbenz or the rest of them were likely to go out of their way to tell you.’

‘What happened?’ Corso demanded, pushing her away. ‘Shit, is it my father?’

Dakota realized Corso was already heading for a comms panel by the medical bay’s entrance.

‘Lucas! If you talk to Arbenz, he’ll be aware I have a way of getting around his censor blocks. And there’s more news besides. Some kind of fleet is on its way here.’

One hand up to the panel, Corso turned and stared at her. ‘What?’

‘Just listen to me, will you. I’ve been tapping into what’s supposed to be an encrypted tach-net transponder on board the
Agartha.
That’s how Arbenz is staying in touch with Redstone, but they’re incredibly sloppy with the encryption.’

Corso was fully facing her again, a hard look on his face. Everything she said to him sounded stunningly incriminating, she knew, but she didn’t have any choice. It was a drastic way to gain an ally.

Corso turned back to the panel and touched his fingertips to its surface. Ident codes and authorizations flickered briefly, before several screens appeared in response.

‘I can’t access any tach-net transmissions more than a few days old,’ he said after a moment. ‘Yet the networks aren’t down.’

‘I told you, they’re trying to keep something from you. I can prove it.’

He glared at her balefully. ‘I’m finding less and less reason to trust you an inch.’

‘Then who
do
you trust?’

He didn’t answer at first. ‘I don’t know,’ he finally admitted.

‘The only reason I can think of for any fleet turning up here is because they know about the derelict. They aren’t here yet, but they will be soon, on board another coreship. Maybe it’s the Uchidans, or maybe it’s someone else. Either way, they get here in less than a couple of days, which means this whole salvage operation is in deep, deep trouble.’

‘You know, it’s funny, but I believe you. Or at least I think I do.’ He had a faraway look in his eyes that made Dakota realize his anti-shock medication was beginning to wear off.

‘Can you walk properly?’ she asked.

‘Sure, I guess so.’

‘Good—because I meant it when I said you’re in as much trouble as I am.’

‘Are they dead?’

‘Who?’

‘My father and my sister.’ He took hold of her upper arm, gripping her painfully. ‘Tell me.’

‘First, we get somewhere safe—’

‘I’m not going anywhere, Dakota. I’ve got to—’

‘It’s
over,
Corso!’ she yelled at him, her voice echoing from the bulkheads around them. ‘It’s over,’ she said more quietly. ‘Think about it. This whole thing was compromised from the start. Your secret is out. Your boss is a murderous nutcase with wild delusions of grandeur who wants to go up against a civilization that controls a fucking
galaxy.
When it all goes tits up and the Senator goes looking for someone to blame, who do you think they’re going to start with?’

Corso’s lips grew thin. ‘There’s nowhere we
can
go.’

‘Wrong.’ She peeled his hand off her upper arm with some difficulty. They were now in the
Hyperion’s
gravity wheel. She led him down a corridor towards the centre of the wheel, the gravity dropping to zero the further they moved away from the wheel’s rim.

To her surprise, Corso followed her with little protest. His eyes still had that faraway look.

‘At least tell me where we’re going,’ he grumbled eventually.

‘The cargo bay.’

‘What the hell’s there that’ll make any difference?’

She hesitated for a moment, and felt her resolve wobble.
He’s still a Freeholder,
she reminded herself.

‘Trust me,’ she replied.

—

Corso gazed through a window overlooking the interior of the cargo bay, seeing the assemblage of weapons and equipment stored there. Then he frowned and nodded towards the far wall.

‘Over there. It looks like . . .’

‘That,’ Dakota replied, ‘is my ship.’

He glanced to one side, as if trying to remember something.
‘This
is what you wanted me to see? What’s it doing here? How the hell did you even get it on board?’

‘Anything we want to talk about, we can say it aboard my ship without any fear of being overheard. If there’s any attempt at surveillance, I’ll know immediately. As far as the manifest is concerned, the
Piri Reis
doesn’t even exist, and it doesn’t show up on any external surveillance systems either.’

‘You can still eyeball it, though,’ he replied, looking thoughtful. ‘Assuming anybody happened to look through this window and spotted it?’

‘Nobody has, yet.’

She drew him towards an airlock complex that led further into the cargo bay’s depressurized interior, and there had him pull on a light pressure suit. She did the same herself: letting him know about her filmsuit felt like a step too far just yet. Then she cycled the air out of the lock and moments later they were floating towards the
Piri Reis.

—

It felt strange having someone else inside her ship. Once they were on board, he looked around the
Piri’s
compact interior with an astonished gaze.

He finally turned to Dakota as he peeled off his pressure suit. ‘Frankly,’ he said, ‘I still think you’re the one who needs to do the talking.’

‘This craft is the
Piri Reis,
and I brought it on board. Apart from me, you’re the only one who knows about it, and I’d like things to stay that way.’

Corso nodded carefully. ‘You said Arbenz was sending and receiving secret communiqués to and from Redstone.’

‘Use that screen,’ she said, pointing. ‘You’ll find it won’t block you when you try to access the latest tach-net updates.’

Corso grabbed a handhold and swung himself up into a sitting position on a fur-lined bulkhead, then waited a moment as the screen turned itself towards him. Dakota watched as a series of icons appeared on the screen: the latest news updates from the interstellar tach-net transponder network. She chewed nervously on a finger as he read.

Piri, is there any reason to doubt the information from Redstone?

Corso became very still as he concentrated. Eventually Dakota got tired of waiting and went over to where he squatted intently, putting a hand on his shoulder.

It seemed it was all over for Senator Arbenz. The assault on the
Rorqual Maru
and the Uchidan encroachment on the Freehold capital had proved the tipping point for a coup led by Senate members with more liberal leanings—liberal, that is, by the standards of the Freehold.

‘I should be there,’ he said, sounding stunned.

‘But you can’t be. Look, they don’t say who was executed . . .’

He turned to gaze at her, and she fell silent. ‘They don’t need to. According to this, the pro-war faction -and that’s basically Senator Arbenz—killed every hostage they held when the Senate was stormed. That means my father and my sister.’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘They’re dead.’

‘You don’t need to do what Senator Arbenz tells you any more. He doesn’t have any—’

‘Yes, I know that,’ he snapped, and Dakota decided that erring on the side of silence might be the better option.

He stared off into space for a while, his expression bleak. ‘I knew this would happen, you know. It’s not even a surprise.’

‘What do you mean?’

He gazed at her levelly. ‘Arbenz and the Mansell brothers were all connected with death squads. They wanted to achieve political change through terror. It’s an old, old political stratagem. I’m just. . .’

He shrugged and sighed. ‘I’m just not surprised,’ he said, and pushed himself away from the screen. T need to go.’

‘Go where?’ she asked, alarmed.

‘I need to ... I need to get some things.’

She looked at the expression on his face. It was much like she’d imagined her own expression might have been, following the mandatory removal of her original implants. A look of loss and betrayal—and something else there weren’t quite the words for.