by Ehsan Ahmad
As he walked in from the compound, he realized instantly why he was needed. Mine Three had four Vitaari engineers, all of whom he had worked with at some point. They remained utterly dismissive of his abilities but were happy to use him for monotonous “unskilled” tasks. Today, two of them were standing by a drill, examining the tracks. Two more were inside the maintenance building, which was situated at the rear of the yard. Close to the open doors, they were standing on either side of one of the combat shells. Sonus knew that these only occasionally needed repair and were regarded as more reliable than much of the Vitaari technology. The white exterior of the four-limbed shells was composed of curved, armored sections, giving the impression of a tall, broad humanoid. There was no head, only a reinforced window for the pilot.
“Sonus. Over here.”
He trotted over to Kadessis, who was standing next to the fence. Lying in a row alongside it were more than twenty of the large lamps used in the tunnels. All were filthy and many had broken bulbs.
“You can see the problem.”
“Yes, sir.” Sonus tried not to appear happy. This was a lot of work; he might be able to stretch it out for two or three days.
“Those without damaged bulbs have other problems,” said Kadessis. He then gestured at two other items. “You’ll need the diagnostic unit, and there are your tools.” Sonus had assembled this box over the years but was not permitted to take it from the yard. Within it were several implements he needed.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Any questions, come to the tower and ask for me. Do not bother the engineers.”
“No, sir.”
Kadessis did up his bulky jacket; there was a chill breeze blowing in off the mountain. Sonus knew he would be freezing by the end of the day, but the thought did not concern him.
“I must be going,” said Kadessis, though he did not leave. “How are you?”
“Better, sir. Thank you.”
“You know, what happens amongst our people is not so very different to what happens here. You remember what I told you about the twelve clans—those who command The Domain?”
“Yes.”
“They have done so for centuries. Not because of any particular reason, not because they are particularly gifted, but simply because that is the way it has always been. Some have been murderers, thieves, even pederasts. My uncle wrote a book about one of them, dared to tell the truth. My cousins didn’t see him for twelve years because he was imprisoned for his “crimes.” They may wreck the economy, neglect their people, make awful, ridiculous mistakes. And yet they remain at the top, looking down upon the rest of us. And we are not permitted to say a word about it.”
Sonus had heard remarks like this from Kadessis before. He sometimes wondered if this was why he’d been posted to Corvos.
The Vitaari paused for a moment, then spoke again. “Your… effort to assist your friends. You were attempting to do what you thought was right, what would be right in an ideal world. But there is no ideal world, Sonus, is there? There is only the one we have. You must accept that.”
Sonus tried to answer like his old self. “I have, sir. I did what I did out of friendship. I thought I could save a life.”
From Kadessis, a trace of a smile. “One day, we Vitaari will leave.”
“How long do you have to stay here, sir?”
The administrator suddenly seemed a lot less keen to talk. “Work as quickly as you can. We need to get those lights back in the mine.”
“Of course, sir.”
As Kadessis departed, Sonus opened the toolbox and got to work. He fixed the first two lamps quickly—elementary problems correctly identified by the diagnostic unit—but then came to the third, which required a new bulb. Kadessis had forgotten to bring them out. Sonus wasn’t about to give up this opportunity to get inside the maintenance building; he had to get those parts.
Lugging the big lamp with both hands, he walked across the yard and up to the doorway. One engineer was now sitting down, consulting a data-pad. The other was standing on a large box next to the arm of the combat shell. He had a panel open and was examining the machine’s complicated innards. Sonus was fascinated by the shells but had never had a chance to examine them up close.
The engineer with the data-pad said something in Vitaari. With them both looking at him, Sonus nodded down at the lamp. The engineer on the box went back to his work, but the other pointed over his shoulder toward the stores where the bulbs and other spares were kept.
Sonus thanked him, put the lamp down next to the door, and hurried toward the back of the building. He passed a damaged section of conveyor and a loading vehicle, then entered an area of storage shelves. He knew exactly where the bulbs were but took a route past a long rack containing smaller parts. Having checked that the engineers weren’t watching, he swiftly located the two components he needed. One was a self-powered spring, the other a connector rod he reckoned he could reconfigure into a trigger. He tucked them into his overalls, then went to get the bulbs. Knowing he would need a few, he grabbed a box of six.
On his way back, he passed the table where the engineer was sitting. Lying on it was a large metallic case, clearly part of the maintenance package. As he neared the door, Sonus scanned the variety of parts laid out beneath the shell. There seemed to be no weapons there; presumably they were kept in the armory, along with the functioning shells and the ammunition.
Sonus narrowed his eyes against the wind as he crossed the yard. He had never been inside the armory but now found himself looking at it. The building was attached to the guards’ barracks, the rear close to the edge of the platform and another vertiginous drop. He put the box of bulbs down, then headed back for the lamp.
The engineers now had both their heads buried in the access hatch, which gave him a moment to inspect the features of the shell: the enormous metal hands and feet, the thick panels of the armored body, the propulsion system, the numerous attachments for guns and ordnance.
On his way back, Sonus thought of the single, small weapon he was trying to construct. He could not avoid the conclusion he was wasting both effort and time.
Vellerik met the troop outside the cargo bay. He couldn’t be bothered to inspect them but was glad to see Perttiel back on his feet. There was also good news about Triantaa: though the main artery in his neck had been nicked by the spearhead, the damage had been successfully repaired. The lieutenant was unable to talk for the moment due to his medication but was expected to make a full recovery and be out of the medical bay within weeks.
With his second-in-command out of action, Vellerik should have been spending more time with the troop, but he had temporarily promoted Zarrinda and let him lead the daily drills. He hadn’t actually seen the men for two days and felt curious eyes upon him as they gathered by the doorway.
“Any idea what this is about, sir?” asked Zarrinda.
“None.” Vellerik had only been up for half an hour. Two nights with a double dose of Almana’s Breath had taken their toll, and he suspected it showed. The first night had brought him relief: images of his woman, his friends, his home. Good things.
Last night had been different. Talazeer and the girl. Vellerik could not forget the look on her face: the same blend of hatred and fear he had seen on the young Kinassan warrior and countless times before.
He led the men to the meeting room, where they arrived to find most of the staff already present. Without greeting Danysaan, Rasikaar, Kerreslaa, or anyone else, Vellerik placed the men in two lines behind the crew and the administrators. As the last few arrived, Rasikaar hurried forward to make an adjustment to the wallscreen. He sharpened up the color and the focus of the image: the Imperial standard—a gold circle on a black background to symbolize the home world. It was surrounded by twelve stars, one each for the noble clans.
All of the chairs and tables had been removed from the room; the only piece of furniture was the platform on which the Count would stand. He k
ept them waiting, during which time the only sign of exasperation came from Vellerik himself. It seemed Talazeer had succeeded in engendering almost as much fear in his fellow Vitaari as the natives. Predictably immaculate, he left Marl outside and strode straight up to and onto the platform.
“Welcome to you all. It is now sixty days since I arrived on the Galtaryax to take charge of the Corvos operation. My sole aim was to increase yields of all minerals from all facilities. Let’s look at the numbers.”
Rasikaar came forward and handed him the screen controller. The first image was a graph showing yields broken down by mineral. The second showed them by installation.
Having hammered home his point about production, Talazeer then displayed two messages of congratulations, one from the chief of the Resource Directorate, the second from his father. He read the second letter out, and Vellerik was sure he actually heard the Count’s voice waver with emotion at one point.
He imagined himself walking into the office of Lord Talazeer and telling him what his son had tried to do to a native female.
The Count then turned to security and was soon boasting about the reduction in “incidents.” He described both operations the troop had undertaken, and Vellerik had to suffer a round of applause. He wished he’d stayed in his room.
Just when the briefing seemed to be over, Talazeer revealed he had received another message. This communique came from Viceroy Mennander, whose regional command included the Corvos system. Talazeer explained that—due to the remoteness of the planet—Mennander had never visited before but, because of the “unprecedented success of the last few weeks,” he wished to attend as The Domain’s representative—to commend the leadership and staff. Vellerik doubted that was the whole truth; more likely Mennander felt he had to do so because of Talazeer’s family connections.
The Count clasped his hands. “This is, of course, a great, great honor. The precise dates are yet to be finalized, but Viceroy Mennander will be attending in around four weeks. There will be a tour of the Galtaryax and the surface installations. The climax of the trip will be a dinner held on one of the islands south of Mine Twelve, where we will present the Viceroy with a statue of himself carved from a mixture of terodite and blue diamonds. I thank each and every one of you for your contribution and trust you will do your part ensuring our success continues. We shall show the Viceroy and his party the very best in Vitaari efficiency and endeavor!”
Danysaan and Rasikaar led the applause.
Talazeer changed the display back to the imperial standard. “And now we will say the vow.”
All of the fifty or so Vitaari men gathered there knew it by heart and delivered it in perfect unison.
Honor, loyalty, pride…
It was a long time since the words had meant anything to Vellerik. He mouthed them but did not make a sound.
As they left the meeting room, Vellerik was intercepted by Marl.
“The Count would like to see you.”
“Now?”
“Immediately. In his quarters.”
As they set off, soldiers and administrators alike were careful not to get in their way. Vellerik drew level with Marl as they turned along an empty corridor. “Haven’t seen much of you around the ship lately.”
“I’ve heard the same said of you,” countered the bodyguard. “And you are supposed to be a leader.”
Vellerik couldn’t think of much to say to that. They reached the elevator and travelled up two levels in silence.
He spoke again as they neared the Count’s quarters. “It doesn’t affect you—these lies? About you?”
Marl scratched his teeth together before replying. “What else would the Vitaari expect of a ‘skinner?’”
They stopped. “But it is untrue.”
“Captain, do you really think I care what a bunch of Vitaari think of me?”
Vellerik could deduce nothing from those bright yellow eyes. “Actually, I do.”
Marl opened the door and walked inside. “Excellency.” He gestured at Vellerik, then went and stood against the wall.
“Ah, Captain, do come in.” Talazeer did not look up. He was standing, staring at the screen mounted on the table.
Vellerik walked over to him.
“I do love the vow,” said Talazeer, running a hand through his hair. “Makes me feel… warm. You know—inside.”
Vellerik considered a series of colorful replies but said nothing.
Talazeer nodded at the screen. “As I mentioned, details are yet to be finalized, but I would like you to organize security. It sounds as if the Viceroy will be coming in his own cruiser; I suggest we take that down to the surface. We wouldn’t want him to have to “rough it” in one of the shuttles, or indeed the Galtaryax. I was thinking of a simple flypast for most of the mines but visits to Nine, Eighteen, and Three—mainly for the views. I imagine he’ll depart straight after the dinner. You and some of the troop could provide an escort at various points—be flying around as we take off and land.”
“The cost, sir?”
Talazeer made a face. “This is the Viceroy, Vellerik. He has seen the ice mines of the Far Belt, the waterfalls of the Kaitan Lakes. We must at least try to make an impression.”
Talazeer pointed at the screen. “I have sent you my suggestions. Please get back to me by tomorrow evening at the latest.”
Vellerik nodded.
“It might do you good to have something to get your teeth into,” added the Count. “If I may say so, you do not look very well. And it has come to my attention that you have been spending a lot of time in your quarters.”
“A minor illness, sir. I’m feeling much better now.”
“I also could not help noticing your expression during the briefing, captain. It did not convey what is generally considered an appropriate level of enthusiasm.”
“Apologies, sir. I am not yet fully recovered.”
“Not been to see the surgeon though, have you? I checked.”
Vellerik put his hands behind his back.
Talazeer continued: “It’s just that your men are young, impressionable. A man of your standing—”
“Sir?”
“Vellerik, it pains me to say this, truly. I hesitate to use the word unprofessional, but—”
Any thoughts of lasting ninety-eight days instantly vanished. Vellerik knew then he had to settle the matter once and for all.
“Count Talazeer, I would like to formally tender my resignation.”
Talazeer couldn’t get a reply out before Vellerik continued. “I know you will not be able to find a replacement before the Viceroy’s visit, so I will gladly make the security arrangements. But I would like to leave as soon as possible afterward.”
He could see Talazeer thinking. And he knew Marl was now looking at him.
“Captain, I’m shocked. I had not expected this.”
“Sir, I’m afraid I can’t see an alternative. Will you accept?”
“I suppose I must. In fact, it might be best for both of us.”
“My thoughts precisely, sir.”
“General Eddekal will want to know why, of course.”
“Illness and… and my age. I am no longer able to function effectively in the role.”
Vellerik felt as if the words were being spoken by someone else. He just had to get away.
“Very well. But I have one condition.”
“Sir?”
Talazeer glanced around the room, collecting his thoughts.
For once, Vellerik decided to make it easy for him. “I will never speak of it. I doubt I will ever speak of Corvos or a dozen other worlds like it. I plan to never return to the capital.”
Talazeer could not hide his relief. “Then, with regret, I accept.”
When the two engineers working on the combat shell took a break, Sonus realized he had an opportunity too good to miss. The other pair had already finished with the drill and were long gone. There were guards on pat
rol in the compound, but the cold kept their walks past the maintenance yard to a minimum. Though dusk was still some hours away, the bank of gray cloud overhead cast a helpful gloom over Mine Three.
Armed with a genuine reason for his trip (more bulbs), Sonus returned to the building. On his way past the table, he noted the case contained some specialized tools and a series of data clips. There were three copies of each. One group was labelled “general.”
Once at the rear of the building, Sonus went straight to the long, untidy work desk behind the shelves.
Please still be there.
On his last visit several weeks previous, he had noted an abandoned data-pad with a broken screen. It still worked, and he’d considered asking if he could take it but had never summoned the courage. After a minute of searching, he found it buried under some plastic sheeting. Sonus secreted it within his overalls, then quickly grabbed another box of lamps. He paused at the end of the shelves and stared at the well lit front of the building.
If he went through with this, there was no going back. If he were discovered, there would be no jolt-rod this time.
He stepped forward, then stopped again.
The Vitaari would do something terrible to him. He would die in great pain.
He doubted it would be as bad as what Qari and Karas had felt.
Once he reached the table, he put the box down and stole the data clip from the case as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
18
It was one of the more unusual jobs assigned to the women of Mine Fourteen, but most of them clearly preferred it to their usual labors. For the past five days, they had been sent into scores of old unused tunnels, collecting up the small quantities of aronium left behind. Used to spending weeks and months in the same location, it came as a welcome relief, especially as the older tunnels were closer to the surface and unsullied by the dust of recent drilling. Every day, they were split into groups of four and sent off with two flashlights and a handcart to fill. The task involved hours of walking and searching, but with no guards around, nobody was complaining.