“Air exchange,” Singh said. “I’m reading a rising partial pressure.”
“Confirmed,” Perec said. “Sniffer says breathable, too. But don’t take any chances.”
Sparver’s faceplate readout picked up on the same injection of air into the elevator. As the pressure pushed towards one atmosphere, his m-suit sagged around his form like a deflated bag.
“Equalising,” Kober said.
Without fanfare, the elevator door opened, an external door opening a moment later. Sparver blinked against unexpected brightness, disconcerting after the dim lighting of Lethe’s corridors and shafts.
The elevator faced the base of a steep-sided pit, with dark walls to either side, and a rectangle of hazy, wavering brightness above. The pit extended a few metres away from the elevator, with a set of plain-looking stairs climbing to the level of the top of the walls.
Perec was the first to step out. She gave an order to her whiphound and sent it slinking up the stairs, until it fed back a view of the terrain surrounding the pit.
Sparver took a moment to process what he was seeing. Nothing at all had prepared him for the procession of shapes and textures and colours streaming across his faceplate as the whiphound panned its eye to take in the full panorama. He had been counting on some kind of artificial volume, it was true, but not even his wildest imaginings would have touched on the spectacle as it now presented itself. It was a jungle: a dense, luscious explosion of life and form, plants and trees throwing back a shimmering palette of too-vivid greens, of leaves and ferns scissoring against a sky of impossible blazing blue, seemingly too deep and distant to ever be contained within the smallness of Lethe. There were flowers, too: shocking pinks and blood crimsons, fiery oranges and rich blues, a superabundance of colours jarring his eyes, each jewel-like swatch jangling against the blue-green as if it hovered on some distinct plane of its own, unconnected to the great mass of the jungle. It was beautiful, in an over-ripe, gaudy sense. But what struck Sparver most forcibly was a powerful impression of wrongness. There was something too vivid and oppressive about this jungle, and all that he knew of Lethe told him that it had no business being here.
He didn’t like it.
Still, they had come to investigate.
Perec walked slowly up the stairs, her whiphound circling the edge of the open pit, ready to defend the position. She reached the top, took a step onto the level ground, made a cautious observation of her surroundings, then gestured for the others to climb after her. Kober, Singh and Gurney followed, with Sparver being the last one out of the pit, struggling up the tall steps, which had clearly not been optimised for a pig’s stride.
They were in a small clearing, bordered on all sides by the lurid green of the jungle. Curving above them was that too-blue sky, a projection onto the artificial ceiling of this opening inside Lethe. If the ceiling was dome-shaped, then they seemed to have come out nearer the edge than the middle. Under their feet was a carpet of grass, so uniform in colour and height that it could have been manicured. There was even a door-like rectangle of grass and sub-soil hinged back from the pit, ensuring the pit’s presence would be much less obvious when sealed.
“It’s a biome, obviously,” Perec said, as if someone needed to fill the silence that had followed their emergence from the elevator. “Energy-intensive, too, keeping all this biomass alive. Now we know why this rock was still using so much power. Is this anything you were expecting, Prefect Bancal?”
“No,” he answered. “Not headless teddy bears, not jungles. But I’d like to take a look further in, if we can.”
“Sword mode will take care of this vegetation pretty easily,” Kober said. “Our whiphounds can clear a path ahead of us.”
“No need,” Singh said. “Looks like someone’s already gone to the trouble.”
She was pointing to a notch in the clearing, where a clear, if narrow, trail led into the depths of the jungle, more or less in the direction Sparver had intended to go.
“If that was there when we arrived, I missed it on the sweep,” Perec said.
“I guess it wasn’t that obvious,” Gurney said, not sounding in the least bit convinced.
“Singh,” Perec said. “Order your primary to hold this area while we move into the overgrowth. If we need to get out of this place in a hurry, I don’t want to waste time searching for that elevator entrance.” She called back her own whiphound. “Forward scout mode. Ten-metre secure zone, following the line of that trail. Clear overgrowth as you go. Proceed.”
Perec’s whiphound nodded emphatically and headed out of the clearing. The trail was densely canopied and the whiphound soon passed out of sight, its presence betrayed only by a rapid, machinelike threshing as it used its second edge to widen the trail. The whiphound’s moving point of view appeared on their visors, as it forged its way down a narrow corridor of darkening, thickening green.
The party set off after it, moving in single file with Perec in the lead and Sparver at the rear. They still had seven whiphounds to provide immediate cover, Kober donating his secondary unit to Perec, all four operatives using their whiphounds in sword mode to scythe away any lingering obstructions. They kept a respectful distance between each other, keeping out of range of the swing of the whiphounds’ stiffened cutting filaments.
Soon the canopy had closed over them almost completely, forming a dappled ceiling, and the trail’s meandering path quickly snatched the clearing from view.
As the cutter made its final approach to Lethe, Dreyfus reflected on what he knew of Aurora’s capabilities and intentions.
He could guess what had happened with Captain Pell and the prefects aboard the Democratic Circus, although it was not a theory that he had the slightest intention of voicing in public. Aurora must have intervened, overriding the cruiser’s communication link with Panoply and substituting her own orders for those of Jane Aumonier. Where the Supreme Prefect desired a cautious, deliberate approach, Aurora sought only the quickest route to provocation. In Caleb she saw either a threat to herself or at the very least a human puzzle that intrigued her, something which demanded her immediate and thorough interest.
She had given Pell the instruction to return to Lethe, and through no fault of his own Pell had assumed the change of intentions was valid. Sparver, too, would have had no cause to second-guess the supposed word of Lady Jane.
Dreyfus already knew Aurora could push her presence into Panoply’s secret layers, infiltrating virtual spaces and communications channels, and now he had given her the means to reach the closed archives of the Search Turbines. All this was dangerous enough, yet he was certain that manipulating information was not the limit of her capabilities. If she wished, Dreyfus felt sure, she could have turned this cutter around and sent it scuttling back to Panoply. She had not played her hand, though, and that led Dreyfus to conclude that whatever now happened would be satisfactory to Aurora. The initial act of provocation had been achieved; the truth regarding Caleb would now come to light one way or another.
She was present, he believed—some part of her, at least. Watching and listening, even if she had other eyes and ears elsewhere. He almost felt he owed her an acknowledgement. But they knew each other well enough by now. She would know that he knew, and that was enough.
“Something amusing you, Dreyfus?” Garlin asked.
“Just thinking about an old acquaintance. The trouble with you being puppeted by Caleb is that you can’t really help who else you come to the attention of. Ever felt like a fly in a spider’s web?”
“No. Have you?”
“Once or twice.” Dreyfus tapped the console and brought up an enlargement of Lethe, now close enough for visual acquisition. “There it is, Julius. Ring any bells? If Stasov’s right, you spent half your childhood inside that rock, convinced you were still living in Chasm City. I bet this isn’t quite the way you imagined your glorious homecoming. Your mother died here, I think. Before her shuttle broke up on re-entry to Yellowstone, she was already dead and gone. Are you starting t
o remember anything of how it happened?”
“You’re crazy, Dreyfus.”
“But not so crazy that I can’t tell when a man’s starting to question his deepest assumptions. You do remember Stasov, whether you want to admit it or not. And that means there’s a chance the rest of it’s true as well.”
Garlin’s jaw moved, as if he meant to offer some riposte. But nothing came.
The console chimed with an incoming transmission from the Democratic Circus.
“Dreyfus. How are you doing, Captain Pell?”
“A little surprised to see you arrive unannounced, Prefect. Have you been in contact with Prefect Bancal and the others?”
“No … not exactly. And I don’t suppose you’ve had any word from inside Lethe?”
“They went dark soon after we undocked. About twenty minutes ago we picked up a small seismic event, and if we’ve localised it correctly it was near the top of the elevator shaft. Am I missing something here, Prefect?”
“If you are, Captain Pell, you’re not the only one. I’m taking the cutter in to the docking port. Give me covering fire if I run into the surface defences, will you?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to dock with us first?”
“No time. Once I’m docked, return to Panoply. Disregard any contravening orders you receive between now and then. You’ll be debriefed upon arrival.”
“Why would I disregard …”
“Just do it, Pell.”
The cutter veered hard for Lethe.
Marlon Voi regarded Julius with a look composed of equal parts admiration and venom—not a little impressed by the thing he had brought into the world, and not a little horrified by it as well, it seemed to Julius.
“Let me tell you what I already figured out for myself, while I still have the chance,” Julius said, with a sort of chilly bonhomie. “Caleb and I were never your sons. You and Mother …” His voice caught as his thoughts dwelled on the image of her, dead on the ground, brought low by his own hand. “You weren’t our real parents. We were raised by you, and you went to a lot of trouble to make us feel like your natural heirs, but we were never your flesh and blood. That was all a lie.”
They were walking behind Lurcher, as the robot trudged back to the house. The robot was carrying the body of Aliya Voi, lolling in its arms just as if she had fallen asleep. Marlon and Julius were carrying the equally limp form of Caleb, who was alive but unconscious. Julius had permitted the robot to administer an additional sedative to his brother, taking no chances with Caleb causing further trouble.
“You’re wrong,” Father said. “It’s not how you think it was. You have our genes. You were both Vois. Didn’t you see it in your faces, when you compared them with our own, or the portraits in the house?”
“Faces can be made to look any way you like,” Julius said.
“There wasn’t any need to. You are our sons.”
“We had dreams, Father. We were part of something that happened far too long ago for us to be your sons.”
Father nearly stumbled under his share of Caleb’s burden. “You were never meant to remember any of that.”
“Any of what, exactly?”
“It’s best left as is. The less you recollect, the happier you’ll be.”
“I’ve just shot and killed my own mother, Marlon.” He said his father’s name deliberately, certain of the hurt it would cause. “Remind me why I’m meant to feel happy about anything?”
“You don’t know how much worse it could be.” Father—Marlon—paused, needing to draw breath before they continued. It was a long, winding route back to the Shell House and he was not accustomed to exercise. “Was it really a trick, Julius?”
“Yes. Caleb made me see a lion. He placed the figment in my head. That’s what I thought I was shooting.”
Marlon seemed to accept the plausibility of this explanation. Perhaps he had seen enough of Caleb’s spitefulness and talent for manipulation to form his own judgement. “Then Caleb made a deliberate choice to have Aliya murdered?”
“He was afraid she’d revoke our powers, with or without your agreement. She was thinking of it, wasn’t she?”
“She saw something in your brother that concerned her, yes.”
“And me—was I a concern?”
“She thought you had a wiser head on your shoulders. Or were kinder, at least.”
“I think she was a little wrong about both of us. She couldn’t have guessed Caleb would go that far. Even I didn’t realise.”
“You got your retribution, from the looks of it. What have you left of his brain, Julius?”
“Oh, enough. He’ll be fine, when he comes round. Eventually.” Julius reached out to give Marlon an encouraging shove. “C’mon. The sooner we’re back at the Shell House, the sooner I can explain how things are going to be from now on.”
Marlon’s eyes registered fear. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
“Oh, nothing too serious as far as you’re concerned. I’ll be leaving, but once I’ve set myself up in the outside world I still want access to the family money, which means there can’t be any scandals surrounding the Voi estate.”
“A murder isn’t serious enough for you?”
“We’ll have to make it look like something other than a murder, won’t we?” Julius said this as if he were explaining something to a child, which was not greatly at odds with the way he now felt about Marlon. “You and I, we’ll rub heads and think of a way to explain her death. Make it look like an accident. A great tragedy. It’ll put an awful toll on you, of course, so you’ll withdraw from public life—even more than you already have. But you’ll still be here, and so will Caleb. I’ll leave the two of you to stew in your own guilt.”
“You can’t go anywhere,” Marlon said. “The world isn’t ready for you. You don’t even exist … legally, I mean.”
“Oh, I figured that out already. I’m a non-entity, a non-citizen.” Julius spared a hand to tap the side of his head. “But you’ve instilled a great gift in me, Marlon. I can choose to become whatever and whoever I want. I can alter any packet of data I wish, any record. I can make a past for myself—a name and a history that feels as real as anyone else’s. Admit it—you were going to have to lie about us eventually, weren’t you?”
“Not this way. Not now.”
“It’s sooner than I’d have liked as well,” Julius said. “But it’s not my fault that Caleb brought this on us.”
“You can’t just leave,” Marlon said. “You don’t know what’s out there. What’s really out there. You’re not prepared.”
“Then you’ll show me,” Julius replied.
They brought the bodies to the Shell House. Aliya was placed in one room, while Caleb’s unconscious form was taken to the one where Julius had found the sleeping Doctor Stasov. Julius told Lurcher to monitor Caleb and sedate him if he woke up.
Marlon tried to give an overriding order to the robot, but Julius had reached inside Lurcher and given himself command precedence. Marlon persisted long enough to establish that he had no authority over the robot, at least not while Julius was present.
Some fleeting, furtive notion played across Marlon’s face.
Julius felt the tickle as Marlon tried to reach into his skull, attempting to issue the revocation command.
“No,” he said gently, pushing his father’s intrusion aside with more tenderness than he felt. “That won’t work. I can see how the blocking action works, and what I need to do to circumvent it. It’s actually pretty easy. I wish I’d seen it sooner, then I could have told Caleb not to worry about either of you being able to revoke our powers.”
Marlon tried again. Julius rebuffed him with a little more force.
“Now what?” Marlon asked, drained of hope, his options exhausted.
“Nothing bad.” Julius tried a reassuring smile. “You’re just going to stay here and keep doing what you do. I know it’ll be lonely, but you’ll adjust. Make of Caleb what you will—he’s of no inte
rest to me now.”
“But Aliya …”
“Her death will have to be explained, yes. I’ve an idea, but it’s a little tricky, and you’ll need to cooperate on your end of the story. But you’ll have a great incentive to do so, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“They’ll see she was murdered.”
“Then there can’t be much of a body left for anyone to pick over.” Julius brightened as he felt his plan gaining connective tissue. “She’s been going into space a lot lately, since you can’t be bothered to leave the Shell House. That’s true, isn’t it?”
Marlon’s look was distrustful. “What of it?”
“We’ll use that to our advantage. Put her body into the private shuttle, send it into orbit, then have it malfunction on the way back. Burn up, crash, leave just enough genetic material to satisfy the curious. No suspicion would be attached to you—far from it. You’d be the tragic widower, the latest in a line of Vois to be burdened by a terrible twist of fate.”
“Why wouldn’t they suspect me?”
“Because you wouldn’t have the means to make an accident like that happen, even if you wanted to.” Julius shrugged. “It’s easy for me, though.”
“How can you be so cold about this?”
“I’m just reverting to type, Marlon—springing back to the monster you’ve always known me to be. What was it Doctor Stasov said, when you were arguing with Mother … Aliya? You were making monsters out of monsters?”
“You don’t know what you were.” But a single shudder of ran through Marlon, as he found some desperate composure. “You’ll help me dispose of the body, like you said.”
“Good.”
“But not the way you think.”
He took Julius to the edge of the dome, to the spot where Lurcher had been repairing the panels.
They stood together, father and son, looking out at the lights and towers of Chasm City.
“You think it’s yours for the taking,” Marlon said eventually. “Close enough to touch. A dream of a city, waiting to bend itself to your will. All those millions of lives, hardly knowing the force that’s heading their way. The power you’ve imagined. The things you could do with that power.”
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