The Prefect

CHAPTER 15

Gaffney experienced a moment’s hesitation as he clipped the safe-distance line to his belt. How easy it would be to fail to secure the latch, so that the line snapped off just when he reached its maximum extension. Then he would sail on through the boundary of the exclusion volume, into the sphere of space around Jane Aumonier into which the scarab forbade the intrusion of all but the smallest of objects. Aumonier would have a second or two to register both the failure of the line and the Euclidean inevitability of Gaffney’s onward progress. No force in the universe could stop him from colliding with her.

How fast would it be? he wondered. How clean, how merciful? He’d pondered the literature concerning sudden, non-medical decapitation. It was confusing and contradictory. Very few subjects had survived to testify to their experiences. There’d be blood, certainly. Litres of it, at arterial pressure.

Blood did interesting, artistic things in weightlessness.

“Prefects,” Aumonier said as she became aware of the delegation’s presence.

“I wasn’t expecting a visit. Is something the matter?”

“You know what this is about, Jane,” Gaffney said, beginning his drift into the chamber. Next to him, Crissel and Baudry fastened their own safe-distance tethers and kicked off from the wall.

“Please don’t make it any more difficult than it already is.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“We’ve come to announce our decision,” Crissel said, in a regretful tone of voice.

“You must stand down for the duration, Jane. Until the present crisis is averted, and the nature of the change in the scarab has become clear to us.”

“I can still do my job.”

Baudry spoke next.

“No one’s doubting that,” she said.

“Whatever else this is about, it has absolutely nothing to do with your professional competence, now or at any time in the past.”

“Then what the hell is it about?” Aumonier snapped back.

“Your continued well-being,” Gaffney said.

“I’m sorry, Jane, but you’re simply too valuable an asset to risk in this way. That may sound mercenary, but that’s just the way it is. Panoply wants to have you around next week, not just today.”

“I’m managing fine, aren’t I?”

“Demikhov and the other specialists feel that the scarab’s recent state-changes may have been triggered by alterations in your body’s biochemical equilibrium,” Crissel said.

“You could cope when all we had to deal with was the occasional lockdown, but with the possibility of all-out war between the Ultras and the Glitter Band—”

“I’m coping, damn you.” She looked Crissel hard in the eyes, doubtless trying to connect with the sympathetic ally she had always been able to count on in the past.

“Michael, listen to me. The crisis is past its point of maximum severity.”

“You can’t know that for sure.”

Aumonier nodded firmly.

“I can. Dreyfus has a firm lead. He’s zeroing in on whoever murdered Ruskin-Sartorious and I expect to hear a name from him any time now. Once we have hard evidence, we’ll broadcast a statement to the entire Band, ordering calm. The Ultras will be exonerated.”

“If he gives you a name,” Crissel said.

“I think Tom can be relied upon, don’t you?” Then a subtle shift in mood revealed itself on her face.

“Wait a minute. The fact that Tom isn’t here—the fact that he’s outside on field duty—isn’t in any way accidental, is it? You’ve timed this exquisitely.”

“Dreyfus’ presence or absence is irrelevant,” Gaffney said.

“And so, it must be said, is your compliance. We have a majority vote, Jane. That means you must stand down, irrespective of your wishes. Must and will. You have no further say in the matter.”

“Take a look around you,” Jane Aumonier said.

“A good, long look. This is my world. It’s all I’ve known for eleven years of uninterrupted consciousness. None of you can even begin to imagine what that means.”

“It means you could use a good rest,” Gaffney said. Then he raised his arm and spoke into his cuff.

“Commence shutdown, please.”

One by one, habitat by habitat, the displays blanked out, leaving only the black interior surface of Aumonier’s office sphere. The blackness was soon absolute, with the entry door the only source of illumination in the space.

Jane Aumonier made a small clicking noise, as if she’d touched her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“This is an outrage,” she said, her voice hardly raised above a whisper.

“It’s necessary and you’ll thank us for it later,” Gaffney replied.

“As of now, your authority is suspended on medical grounds. As we’ve stressed, this action isn’t being taken on disciplinary grounds. You may not like us right now, but you still have our utmost respect and loyalty.”

“Like hell I do.”

“Get it out of your system now, Jane. We understand your rage. We’d be surprised if you weren’t angry with us.”

“You didn’t have to take the habitats away from me.” She was speaking slowly, with a kind of iron calm.

“If you wanted to take me out of the command loop, all you had to do was remove my ability to give orders or offer guidance. You didn’t have to take the habitats away from me.”

“But we did,” Gaffney said.

“You’re too much of a professional, Jane. Do you honestly think you’d stop worrying about the crisis just because we took away your authority? Do you honestly think you’d stop fretting, stop obsessing, every time a new piece of data comes in? Do you honestly think your stress levels wouldn’t actually get worse if we let you see but not act? I’m sorry, I know this is hard, but this is the way it has to be.”

“We’ve discussed the matter with Demikhov,” Baudry said.

“He agrees that the present crisis poses an unacceptable risk to your mental well-being. He consented to this action.”

“You’d have found a way to twist his advice to suit your purpose no matter what he said.”

“That isn’t fair,” Crissel said indignantly.

“And we’re not going to leave you in the dark, so to speak. We can assign other inputs to the sphere. Historical feeds. Fictions. Puzzles. Enough to keep you occupied.”

“Don’t even think of lecturing me about keeping occupied,” Aumonier said to him, with genuine menace.

“We’re just trying to help,” Baudry said.

“That’s all we’ve ever wanted to do.”

“I wish you’d acknowledge the reasonableness of our actions,” Gaffney said, “but your refusal to do so in no way alters what must be done. We’ll leave you now. Your usual medical care regime will of course continue unaffected. You may request any data feed, within reason. Access to the usual habitat-monitoring channels will of course be embargoed… and for the time being, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be able to tap into any of the news networks. Contact with Panoply personnel will also have to restricted—”

“When Tom gets back—” she began.

“He’ll bow to our authority.” Gaffney said.

Dreyfus and the Conjoiner woman exited the sleeping chamber and made their way out of the sinuous labyrinth of her ship. Dreyfus kept looking over his shoulder, wary that some restless and vengeful spirit might be following them from that house of abominations.

“My trust in you is provisional,” Clepsydra said, before reminding him that she still had control over the musculature of his suit.

“If you can help me reach other Conjoiners, and bring help to save the rest, you shall have my gratitude. If I suspect that you are like the other man, the one who wears the same kind of suit, you shall discover the consequences of betraying me.”

Dreyfus decided not to dwell on her threat. He was simply glad to be out of the butcher’s theatre of the dismembered dreamers.

“Can I call my deputy?”

“You may, but I am detecting no incoming carrier signal.” Dreyfus tried. Clepsydra was right.

“He must still be attempting to contact Panoply for help.”

“You’d better hope it comes quickly, in that case. Aurora almost certainly knows you’re here.”

“Will she harm the sleepers?”

“She may, if only to stop anyone else obtaining access to Exordium.” Clepsydra moved with panther-like speed and grace as they ascended the long thread of the docking connector.

“But that would be the only reason. Lately she has bored of us. We’re a toy that won’t do what she wants.”

Dreyfus recalled something Clepsydra had told him earlier.

“You said she punished you if you dreamed something she didn’t like. What did you mean by that?”

“Aurora expected to glean certain truths from the future. When our prognostications conflicted with her expectations, she grew resentful, as if we were lying to her out of spite.”

“Were you?”

“No. What we told her was what we saw. She just didn’t like the message she was being given.”

“Which was?”

“That something bad is going to happen. Not today, not tomorrow. Not for years to come. But not so far in the future that it isn’t of concern to her. If I have learned one thing from the glimpses of her mind, it is that she is a cold and cunning strategist, profoundly concerned with her own long-term survival.”

“And your message gave her something to be scared about?”

“So it would appear,” Clepsydra said.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Only to say that everything you cherish, everything you work for, everything you hold precious will have its end. You are very proud of this intricate little community of yours, with its ten thousand habitats, its ticking clockwork mechanisms of absolute democracy. And perhaps in your own small way you are entitled to some of that pride. But it won’t last for ever. One day, Prefect, there will be no Glitter Band. There will be no Panoply. There will be no prefects.” They reached the viewing station where Dreyfus had first glimpsed the imprisoned ship. When they had both cleared the docking connector, he used the control panel to dim the lights and seal the silver door.

“What disaster did you foresee?”

“A time of plague,” Clepsydra said. Dreyfus shivered, as if someone had just walked over his grave.

“What does Aurora think about that?”

“It concerns her. In the thoughts that she lets slip, I’ve sensed a great plan being pushed towards reality.

She fears the future we have shown her. She will fear it less if she controls it.”

“In what way?”

“For now she hides, flitting furtively from shadow to shadow, surviving by her wits. She lives in your world, but her influence over it is limited. I believe she means to change that. She means to become more powerful. She will rip control of human affairs from your fumbling hands.”

“You’re talking about a takeover,” Dreyfus said.

“Call it what you will. You must be ready for her when she shows herself. She will move quickly, and you will not have much time to react.”

It did not take long to return to the sealed door, the one that had cut him off from Sparver and the corvette. It stood as intact and impervious as when he had left it.

“This shaft goes all the way around the rock, doesn’t it?”

Clepsydra’s expression was blank.

“Yes. Why?”

“Because we’ll have to work our way around if we’re going to reach the shaft that leads to my ship. Assuming we don’t encounter any more obstructions on the way…”

Clepsydra closed her eyes, jamming them tight as if she was trying to remember the name of an old acquaintance. She raised her palm to the door, tensing the fingers slightly as if holding some fierce, slavering creature at bay.

Something clicked in the mechanism and the door hummed open.

“I didn’t realise—” Dreyfus began.

“I said I could not tap into the optical architecture. I mentioned nothing of doors.”

“I’m impressed. Can you all do stuff like that?”

“Not all of us, no. Very small children need tuition before they have the necessary finesse.”

“Very small children.”

“It’s nothing for a Conjoiner. We feel the same way about talking to machines as fish do about swimming in water. We hardly notice we’re doing it.” Then she cocked her head slightly.

“There is a carrier signal now.”

“Sparver?” Dreyfus asked.

“Are you reading me?”

“Loud and clear. You must be closer than before.”

“I’m on my way back up to the surface lock. I have a witness with me, so don’t be too surprised.”

“I’m in the storage area just under the lock. I was coming back down to you with a plasma torch.”

“No need now. You can meet us aboard the ship. Did you manage to get that message through to Thalia?”

“I got a message through to Muang, but Thalia wasn’t answering.” Dreyfus felt his spirits dip.

“Did you tell him to keep trying?”

“It’s worse than that.” Sparver sounded genuinely sorry that he had to be the bearer of bad news.

“Muang’s lost contact with her completely. He isn’t even receiving a signal from her bracelet.”

“Did he have time to get any kind of message through to her?”

“Nothing, Boss. But at least help’s on its way to us.”

“Can you cope with a vacuum crossing?” Dreyfus asked Clepsydra, preparing to fix his own helmet back into place.

“Our ship isn’t mated with the exterior airlock. You’ll have to pass through a suitwall as well.”

“I’d survive vacuum even if I didn’t have a suit. Worry about yourself before you worry about me.”

“Just asking,” Dreyfus said. They were back aboard the corvette in less than five minutes. Sparver was waiting for them on the other side of the suitwall, his arms crossed in anticipation. Clepsydra’s suit stayed intact during its passage through the wall, but once she was inside the corvette she made a point of removing her helmet rather than simply folding it back into her suit, and pressed it against an adhesive area on the wall with a natural fluency that suggested she’d been on similar ships a thousand times before. Dreyfus could not help but interpret the gesture as indicative of Clepsydra’s provisional trust in her new hosts.

“This is my partner, Deputy Field Prefect Bancal,” Dreyfus told Clepsydra, introducing Sparver.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about hyperpigs, but there’s nothing you need fear from him.”

“Nor does he have anything to fear from me,” Clepsydra answered, her voice low and level.

“Is she a guest or a prisoner?” Sparver asked.

“She’s a protected witness. She’s been through hell and now we have to safeguard both Clepsydra and her colleagues.”

“How many more of them are there down there?”

“A lot. But we can’t do anything for them right now, not until help arrives. I hope you impressed the seriousness of our situation on Muang.”

“He got the message.”

“There are nearly a hundred Conjoiners aboard that ship. When help arrives I’ll call Jane and get her to task some more assets. We’re going to need a Heavy Medical Squad as well. ETA, roughly?”

Sparver glanced through the flight deck passwall just as the console chimed.

“Proximity alert,” he said.

“Guess that’s the help arriving. That was quick.”

“Too bloody quick,” Dreyfus said, a bad feeling brewing low in his gut. Without seeking permission from either of her hosts, Clepsydra hauled herself across the cabin and through into the vacant flight deck.

“This is the other vehicle from Panoply?” she asked.

“Hopefully,” Sparver said.

“Then why is it coming in on such a fast approach?”

“Guess they’re in a bit of a hurry to get to us,” Sparver said.

“They’re in more than a hurry. Not even a Conjoiner vehicle could slow down from that kind of speed without pulping everyone aboard.”

“Then maybe they’re planning to overshoot the rock and come back around on a second pass,” Sparver answered.

“They’re not overshooting,” Clepsydra said.

“If your tracking system is correct, the incoming ship is on a collision vector.”

Quickly Dreyfus pulled himself into the flight deck and checked the proximity display. He saw the icon of the approaching vehicle and recognised its identifier tag.

“It’s not the deep-system vehicle we were hoping for,” he said.

“It’s the freighter from Marco’s Eye that we saw earlier.”

“Aurora must have tapped into its navigation system, deviating it from its usual flight-path,” Clepsydra said.

“She is going to use it to ram you out of existence, and destroy the evidence of this rock.”

“She’s that powerful?” Dreyfus asked.

“It would not take great power, merely great cunning and stealth.”

Sparver joined them.

“How long have we got?”

“Eighty-five seconds,” Clepsydra said.

“Then we’re in trouble,” Sparver replied.

“We can’t get this thing moving inside of a minute, and even then we wouldn’t get far enough away from the surface to make a difference.”

“Seventy-five seconds.”

“We can suit up, return to the rock. If we can get far enough underground—”.

“The rock will be destroyed,” Clepsydra said, with stony detachment.

“There isn’t time in any case,” Dreyfus said.

“It’d take too long to cycle through the airlock.”

“We have less than a minute,” said Clepsydra.

“The countdown isn’t helping,” Sparver replied.

“Maybe we should start thinking about the pods. We’ve got enough for all three of us. We don’t have much time, but—”.

“Will they eject us away from the rock, or towards it?” Clepsydra asked.

“They’re dorsal pods. We’re belly-down now, so—”.

“They’ll eject us into space,” Dreyfus finished.

“We have thirty-eight seconds,” Clepsydra said.

“I suggest we adjourn to the pods.” They were designed to be used in dire emergency, when every second counted, so there was little in the way of preliminaries to attend to. Even so, Dreyfus sensed that they were down to the last ten seconds before all three of them were safely ensconced in their own single-person pods.

“The pods have transponders,” he told Clepsydra, just before they sealed the door on her.

“The deep-system vehicle will pick all of them up, but it may take some time.” Five seconds later he was webbed into his own unit. He reached up over his forehead and tugged down the heavy red handle that triggered the pod’s escape system. Quickmatter erupted into the empty spaces to cocoon him against the coming acceleration. When it arrived, it still felt as if the bones of his spine were being compressed to the thickness of parchment. Then he lost consciousness. Thalia snapped on her glasses and peered into the gloom of the windowless chamber, while Cyrus Parnasse stood back with his veined, muscular hands planted on his hips, for all the world like a farmer surveying his crops. They were alone in a section of the polling core sphere located well below the viewing gallery where the other citizens were holed up. Boxy grey structures loomed out of the darkness, stretching away into the distance. She tapped a finger against the side of the glasses, keying in additional amplification.

“What am I looking at here, Citizen Parnasse? It just looks like a load of boxes and junk.”

“Exactly what it is, girl. This is a storage room for the Museum of Cybernetics, full of stuff they haven’t got room for in the main exhibit areas. There’re hundreds of rooms like this, right across the campus. But this is the only one we can reach without going back down to the lobby.”

“Oh.”

“I reckoned we could use some of this stuff to barricade those stairs. What d’ya think?”

“I didn’t think any of those machines would be able to get up the stairs.”

“They won’t: too big, most of ’em, or with the wrong kind of design. But there are plenty of machines out there that’ll fit the bill. Now that they know we’re up here, how long do you think it’ll be before they arrive and start climbing?”

“Not long,” she said.

“You’re right. I should have thought of that sooner.”

“Don’t be too hard on yerself. Had a lot to think out in the last few hours, I dare say.”

True, Thalia thought. True but still entirely inexcusable.

“You don’t think we’re too late, do you?”

“Not if we get a shift on. There’s enough junk here to block the stairs, provided we get a chain movin’ it. We’ll need to take care of the elevator shaft as well.”

“I hadn’t forgotten that, just didn’t think there was much we could do about it.” The elevator was still at the bottom of the shaft, waiting in the lobby where they had abandoned it.

“If that whip-thing of yours still works, we can cut a hole into the shaft and drop as much of this stuff down it as we can manage. That’s five hundred metres straight down. It won’t stop the machines for ever, if they’re really determined to get the elevator moving, but it’ll definitely put a dent in their plans.”

“From where I’m standing, that sounds a lot better than nothing.” But when she touched her whiphound, it responded by buzzing against her belt, giving off an acrid smell. They’d had to use it to cut through the locked door into the storage room and now it was protesting again. Thalia wondered how long it would last before giving out on her completely; it was already of limited utility as a weapon, unless employed as a one-off grenade.

“We shouldn’t hang around,” Parnasse said.

“I’ll start moving boxes if you go and round up some help.”

“I hope they’re in a mood to take orders.”

“They will be if they think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“I don’t, Citizen Parnasse. That’s the problem.” Thalia pulled off her glasses and slipped them into her pocket.

“I’ve been putting a brave face on it, but I’m seriously out of my depth here. You saw what we had to deal with outside.”

“I saw you coping, girl. You might not feel like it, but you look as if you’re doing a decent enough job.” Thalia’s expression must have been sceptical, because he added: “You got us all back here alive, didn’t you?”

“Right back where we started, Citizen Parnasse. My escape attempt didn’t actually achieve much, did it?”

“It was the right thing to try. And we didn’t know about the servitors when we started off, did we?”

“I suppose not.”

“Think of it as a scouting expedition. We went out and gathered intelligence on our situation. We learned things we wouldn’t have learned if we’d just stayed up here, waitin’ for help to come.”

“Put it like that, it almost sounds as if I knew what I was doing.”

“You did know. You’ve convinced me already, girl. Now all you have to do is convince the others. And you know where that starts, don’t you?”

There was a heavy feeling in her stomach, but she forced herself to smile.

“With me. I’ve got to start acting as if I know exactly what to do, or else the others aren’t going to listen.”

“That’s the spirit.” She looked into the darkness of the storage room.

“Maybe we can block the stairs and the shaft. But what do we do afterwards? Sooner or later those machines are going to find a way to get to us, just like they’ve got to the other citizens outside. Everything we’ve seen says they’re being directed by an external intelligence, something with problem-solving capability.” She thought of the way the citizens had been rounded up and pacified, cowed into submission by warnings of an attack against the habitat.

“Something smart enough to lie.”

“One step at a time,” Parnasse said.

“We deal with the barricades first. Then we worry about a dazzling encore.” He made it sound so effortless, as if all they were talking about was the right way to cook an egg.

“All right.”

“You’re a prefect, girl. A lot might’ve changed since you dropped by today, but you’re still wearing the uniform. Make it count. The citizens are depending on you.”