The Baba Yaga (3 page)

Now Walker spoke. “A test? You mean a telepathic scan, don’t you?”

Grant turned to look at her. “It can take the form of a telepathic scan, yes.”

“Do we have another way of testing for mind-parasites?”

Grant studied her carefully. “Not as yet, no.”

“So you’re proposing a mandatory telepathic scan for all government employees. Have you ever undergone a telepathic scan, Commander Grant?”

“I have not—”

“No, I imagine not. You wouldn’t be proposing them so lightly.” Walker addressed the room. “We need to take a step back. Compulsory telepathic tests are a huge invasion of privacy. What’s next? Mandatory scans for all citizens?”

There was a pause, during which it became patently clear that, given the chance, Grant would certainly introduce such a policy. Eventually, Grant said, “There are always costs during war.”

“But we’re not
at
war,” said Walker. A few voices started to object, but Latimer raised his hand, and they subsided. “We are not at war,” she said again. “In fact, we have never communicated with the Weird, and we have no idea
what
they want.”

Now the disagreement would be heard. “Surely we know they want to destroy us?” one of Grant’s associates said. “Even if they don’t, their very existence is manifestly incompatible with ours—”

“We know nothing of the sort,” said Walker clearly. “We have barely any experience of the Weird. I don’t deny that our experiences thus far have been appalling, but surely we don’t want to rush headlong into another war—”

“The Weird have brought war to us!”

“In fact,” said Walker, “there’s evidence to suggest this might not be true—”

Latimer held up his hand again. “I won’t have this turn into a slanging match.”

“I agree,” said Walker. “But Grant and her team have had their say. She offers a superweapon, which may well not work, and compulsory medical procedures. I have another suggestion. May I present my case?”

Latimer nodded, and the room fell silent.

“Thank you,” said Walker. She stood up and took her place at the head of the table. “We are fresh from a costly war with the Vetch,” she said. “We cannot afford another one. Our experiences with the Weird have been brief, bloody, and brutal, but in truth we know very little about them. Yes, our instinct is to fight back. But what if the Weird
cannot
be defeated by superior force? What if we direct all our energies and resources, and place all our hopes, on a weapon that cannot save us? We have to take a longer view, and we have smarter weapons in our arsenal.”

Looking down the table, she saw Andrei nodding.

“What do you suggest, Walker?” Latimer said.

Walker smiled. “We communicate.”

There was a silence, and then the room collapsed into chaos. “
Communicate?
” said Grant. “You can’t communicate with the Weird! They are a force for destruction! You’ve seen the images from Rocastle, from everywhere the Weird have been! They murder—nothing more! That’s all they do! You can’t communicate with that!”

Another of Grant’s associates called out, “You might as well try to reason with a crimopath!”

“What harm could it do?” Walker shot back. “Why reject this idea out of hand?”

“Because it’s a fantasy!” said Grant.

“I disagree,” said Walker. “And in fact, one of my assets has recently returned from Satan’s Reach with some fascinating information.” Satan’s Reach—a region of space beyond the control of either the Expansion or the Vetch Empire, where lawlessness, theft, and rumour were rife. “This asset reports that there are stories of a Weird portal somewhere in the Reach where a human colony lives alongside it without being absorbed or enslaved—”

“‘Reports’? ‘Stories’?” Grant snorted. “You’re condemning yourself, Walker. This isn’t
evidence
.”

“But it is another option.” Walker turned to address Latimer directly. “We have no evidence either that the weapon that Grant proposes can do what she claims. Are we going to back only one horse in this race?”

Latimer was tapping his finger against the side of his nose. “What do you need?”

“Ships,” said Walker, quickly, sensing her moment. “We need to send out ships in search of this world to find it, and to determine whether peaceful co-existence with the Weird is possible.”

“Ships?” Grant laughed out loud. “You’d be moving them from the defence of the core worlds. This is insanity!”

“What can a fleet of ships do if a portal opens here on Hennessy’s World?” Walker shot back. “If the Flyers emerge and the Sleer hatch? What could ships do? Blow the portal from the sky and take us all with it? If we knew how to communicate with the Weird, we might have a way to bargain with them.”

Grant had turned white. “You’re talking about surrender,” she said.

“You’re stretching the definition of surrender beyond reasonable limits,” Walker said. “I want to prevent mutual mass destruction and, more importantly, our own extinction. A superweapon—by definition—cannot do this.”

Latimer held up his hand. Everyone went quiet. Slowly he began to gather his papers up in front of him. “I’m interested,” he said, at last. “We can at least explore what can be done. Commander Grant—see what ships can be spared.”

Grant shook her head. “I’ll look into it. But this is a mistake. If the Weird arrive and we have depleted our defences—”

“If the Weird arrive, we’re all dead,” Walker said. “Guns and ammo won’t help us. Communication—that might.”

Latimer brought the meeting to a close. Walker, coming back round the table, sat down again next to Andrei. He was nodding, and Walker heard him murmur, “Good, good.”

L
ATER, SHE WENT
to Kinsella’s apartment.

He opened a bottle of wine and Walker took the offered glass automatically, cradling it in her hands. He bent to kiss her forehead, and sat down beside her, the picture of satisfaction. “A good battle,” he said. “Well fought and well won.”

“Hmm.” Walker put down her wine, untouched.

“You don’t sound as pleased as I thought you would be.”

“That’s because I don’t think Grant and her gang are likely to give up very easily. If we want to send out those ships, they’re going to have to be from Fleet, aren’t they? Where else can we get them?”

He rubbed the palm of her hand with his thumb. It felt good; relaxing. “You think there’ll be a price?” he said.

“There’s always a price.”

He sat and thought for a while. “You think the price will be mandatory scans?”

“That’s right.”

“Then let that be the price. I call that a good bargain.”

“I won’t do it, Mark.”

He put his own glass down in frustration. “What’s the problem? In the great scheme of things, it’s nothing.”

“It’s too far. What about dignity? What about privacy?”

“
Privacy
? Sweetheart, you’re in the wrong business if you’re worried about privacy! Or has it really never struck you before that what we do, on a daily basis—on an
hourly
basis—is invade the privacy of others?”

“Within limits. And with no automatic assumption that we have the right.”

He frowned. “You sound like Andrei.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Walker said. Kinsella was silent a moment, and she narrowed her eyes. “What?” she said. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking... that sounding like Andrei Gusev isn’t necessarily always going to be a route to success.”

She turned to look at him. “You know,” she said, “under other circumstances, that might sound like a threat.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“No?”

“Look, I know how much Andrei means to you—he’s meant a great deal to a lot of people over the years—”

“Jesus, Mark, you sound like you’re delivering his eulogy!”

Kinsella held up his hands. “I don’t understand why you’re getting so angry.”

“I don’t like hearing Andrei written off like that!”

“I’m not writing him off! God knows, I wouldn’t dare! All I’m doing is making sure we’ve planned for the inevitable!”

“You want to plan his funeral while we’re at it? He adores Beethoven’s late string quartets, but given the occasion would probably prefer Rachmaninov.”

“Christ, Delia, what’s come over you?”

He was cut off by the chime on his comm. “Who is it?” he snapped, impatiently.

Like a supernatural force invoked by his name, Andrei Gusev’s face appeared on the viewscreen. “
Delia
,” Andrei said, looking past her lover and straight at her. “
Get in, now
.”

“Andrei?” she said, caught off-guard. “How did you know I was here?”

“
Don’t be ridiculous
,” he said, sharply, and she was embarrassed to have asked. “
Get yourself dressed and get yourself in. Something bad has happened.
”

“What’s going on?”

“
We’ll talk about it when you’re here. And for the love of God, the pair of you, get here as quickly as possible, and don’t bother with those pointless separate routes.
”

He cut the line. Walker and Kinsella sat for a moment or two in silence, still reeling from their argument. “Well,” she said at last, “so much for privacy.” She stood up. “We’d better do as we’re told.”

Typical
, she thought, as they sat together in the back of her flyer,
the only time we share a car to work, and we’re not talking to each other.

T
HEY WENT THROUGH
the double doors together, their argument still unresolved. Andrei was standing in front of the banks of viewscreens and their array of visual data. He nodded to Walker and Kinsella when they arrived, and directed their attention towards the screens.

“What’s happening?” said Kinsella.

Grant, standing near Andrei, replied. “A Weird portal has opened on Braun’s World.” She gave a bitter smile. “Nobody had even heard of the place, before tonight. Quite dull, all told. A few military installations left over from the war.”

This, Walker knew, was not true. Braun’s World had come to her attention several months ago, when her team had noticed the movement of a number of men and supplies into one of the desert bases. A team of telepaths had been sent there too. She’d struggled to find out what was going on, and still didn’t have answers. What was Grant not telling them?

“How far is this place from the inner worlds?” asked Andrei.

“Considerably closer than we would like.” Grant gestured at the coordinates onscreen.

Kinsella whistled as Walker said, “Well within Expansion space.”

“You see our problem.” Grant pointed at another display. “I want you to look at this,” she said. “You in particular, Walker.” With a flick of her wrist, Grant switched content on the viewer in front of her. “This is Dentrassa, the largest urban centre on Braun’s World, less than an hour ago.”

The onslaught of images that followed nearly made Walker throw up her supper; footage of the Weird was enough to unsettle even Fleet veterans. But to think that this was happening
now
... And then there was the sound. The sound of people being consumed, in fear and terror. Walker turned away.

“Is that shame?” said Grant. “You should be ashamed. This is
your
fault.”

“Adelaide,” said Andrei, with a warning tone to his voice, “I advise you to be very careful about throwing that kind of language.”

“You know what I mean.”

There was a short silence. “How are we getting these images?” said Kinsella, before the argument started again.

From behind them, a quiet voice spoke. “Police and Army on the spot. On the frontline, by the looks of it.” It was Latimer. Pale and shaken: shocking to see from someone usually so controlled. He tapped his brow. “Their helmets are fitted with visual recording devices.” He turned back to the screen. “And sound, it seems. Someone turn that off.”

Grant signalled to someone to cut the audio feed, and the room went mercifully quiet. Everyone waited for Latimer to give some guidance. Walker and Kinsella exchanged glances. A crisis often made or broke people at Latimer’s level—and this was no ordinary crisis. Was he up to it?

“Advice,” Latimer said at last. “I want to hear advice.” Walker and Andrei both opened their mouths to speak, but Latimer held up his hand. “Grant—talk to me,” he said.

No
, thought Walker,
I’m not going to let her seize the momentum...
But Andrei’s hand was upon her arm, holding her back for the moment:
Let her say her piece. She might have something worthwhile to offer.

“Make sure the news blackout is in place,” said Grant. “Seal off Braun’s World—we can’t risk anyone getting off-planet and spreading the infection.”

“Those seem like reasonable actions to me.” Latimer looked around the room. “Any objections?”

Andrei shook his head. “All wise. Shall we get on with it?”

Grant held up her hand. “I haven’t finished yet,” she said, and turned to Latimer. “Braun’s World is finished. You have to understand. And you have to understand the consequences of it. We can’t risk infection. Nothing must escape that planet.”

“We’re sealing the ports now,” Latimer said. “I can have the best part of the Eighth Fleet there in a matter of hours. Nobody is going to get past them—”