Keying occasional commands with one hand, her eyes never leaving the screen, Eerie rifled through her bag. She came up with a pair of over-ear headphones, plastered with stickers and decals, and pulled them over her ears. She brushed her hair back behind the headphones, and then launched an encrypted signal client.
The laptop whined and spat hot air. A custom-designed executable launched a suite of purpose-built software based on coding principles she had not yet learned, a complex body of applications designed to work in concert with her protocol. Eerie tapped in a permission code, and then gasped as the software meshed with her back brain, the Kismet Protocol slotting neatly into the waiting sockets of applications that did not yet fully exist.
Eerie looked in the mirror and saw the whole of herself reflected, from her singular beginning to the many possible endings that existed like fever dreams at the edges of her being, and the one final path that she knew she would take, the decision that she knew she would reach.
Had reached long ago.
Would arrive at eventually.
She blinked back tears, swallowing regret over decisions not yet made. Eerie turned her attention back to the screen, forcing herself to stare at the advancing progress bar, using its monotonous progression to center herself.
There was no such thing as now, Eerie thought, but it was good to pretend otherwise.
Not easier. More enjoyable, though, and infinitely sweeter and sadder.
The client executed, and an encrypted channel was opened with the most distant relay on the Network. The signal was weak, and interference was regular, but it was stable enough to work. Eerie switched to her chat client and selected a name from a drop-down menu.
Eerie! Your timing is perfect. Emily’s thoughts were relayed by a transmitter in the headphones, like she was whispering into her ear. I was getting a little worried.
I’m almost ready, Eerie thought, launching another executable. How soon will you apport?
I’m stalling for time, Emily thought. Whenever you’re ready.
Eerie switched applications and reviewed the settings, altering a few. After a quick review, she launched the final necessary program.
I’m set, Eerie thought, watching a menu turn green, one set of characters after another. Do you want me to count you down?
Let’s do it, Emily thought. You know, Eerie, I’m really glad you asked me to join your club. I’ve had a lot of fun so far. I can’t wait to see what we get up to next!
Me too, Eerie thought. Counting down.
***
The buses stopped a long way from the gate at the Far Shores, almost out of Vivik’s line of sight. He waited patiently in the dark, standing out in the open and doing his best to look nonthreatening. He was sure that they were trying various radio and telepathic channels, to contact the security or staff of the Far Shores, and obviously having no success. He had looked for a radio before they arrived, but the batteries were dead on both units he located, so he just had to wait.
The door to the first bus opened after several minutes of idling.
He could tell it was Rebecca Levy by the cigarette burning in her hand, and he could tell how tired she was by the way her feet dragged when she walked.
He felt the first inkling of her empathic probing when she was halfway to the gate, and he did his best to relax and invite her in. Vivik appreciated that she was gentle, at least.
“I am surprised and confused to see you here, Vivik,” Rebecca said, leaning against the metal gate beside him. “What are you doing?”
“Emily wanted to meet you herself, but she’s been unavoidably delayed,” Vivik said, hoping that his smile was reassuring. “I’ve come in her stead to welcome you and the refugees to the Far Shores.”
“Uh huh.”
“You are safe here, Ms. Levy. We’ll take everyone, for as long as they need a place to stay.”
“Uh huh.”
“There’s food, and we have a doctor and a therapist waiting to…”
“Vivik, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m greeting you, as an official representative of the Far Shores,” he said. “You can check if you don’t…”
“I already checked. It’s very nice of you and Emily to welcome us, but it’s a bit unusual, considering that neither of you even has permission to be at the Far Shores,” Rebecca said. “I’d like to know why you feel like you are in a position to invite me into a place where I am the fucking Director.”
“I would’ve preferred if Emily did this, you know.”
“Me too, but here we are. Explain it to me.”
“I suppose there’s no other way to put it. The Far Shores belongs to us now.” Vivik jerked this thumb to the gatehouse. “The thing that opens the gate is in there. I’ll just start it, and we can get everyone inside.”
“Who is we?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Who exactly is claiming the Far Shores?” Rebecca demanded, dropping her cigarette on his side of the gate, where it smoldered in the grass. “This whole place belongs to Central, Vivik. To the Administration. It’s a damn science colony. The Auditors are based out of the Far Shores, for God’s sake!”
“Not anymore. I guess it belongs to Emily, but she’s very nice about that sort of thing.”
“Are we talking about Emily Muir?”
Vivik nodded.
“The one who joined the Anathema? Do you mean to tell me that the Anathema have taken the Far Shores?”
“No, that’s not it!”
“Have you become Anathema yourself, Vivik?”
“I haven’t! I promise!” He squeaked, backing away. “I’m on your side, Ms. Levy!”
“Are you?” Rebecca started to walk around the gate. “I thought you said you worked for Emily.”
“I’m on everyone’s side,” Vivik said. “Can’t you of all people understand that?”
Rebecca paused and closed her eyes for a moment. He felt her move through his mind like a warm breeze.
“I believe you, but I’m not sure that helps,” Rebecca said, grimacing. “You’ve gotten yourself caught up in treason to Central. That’s not something you fix with good intentions.”
“We need an alternative to the cartel system. I think you know that. I’m not turning on Central, I’m helping to create another way forward.”
“Save it. I’ve got sick people and kids in those buses to worry about. Open the gate, and then I’ll need you to gather everyone, all of Emily’s people, out on the lawn.”
“Why?”
“So I can yell at all of you at the same time,” Rebecca said, grabbing him by the collar. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re all in? There’s going to be a damn Inquiry at least, Vivik, and I have no idea how I’m going to protect you from the consequences of your extremely poor decision making.”
“You don’t understand,” Vivik complained, freeing himself. “You can hold your Inquiry if want. You can even sic the Auditors on us, if you still have any Auditors, and if you can get them to do it, but it won’t change a thing. We don’t need you to protect or correct us, and we aren’t going to take your orders. We will protect ourselves, if it comes to that.”
“This is crazy naïve bullshit,” Rebecca said, throwing her hands up. “You are going to end up dead because of this idiocy.”
“We are more prepared than you realize. We aren’t just kids, and this isn’t a spur of the moment decision. I’ve been working on this plan for years, and believe me, I’ve taken everything you are worried about into account.”
“You have no idea how much there is to worry about,” Rebecca grumbled. “You sure about this, Vivik? I know that you’re in love with Emily, but this is a bridge too far.”
“I am in love with her,” Vivik agreed calmly. “That’s not why I’m doing this. I believe in what we are doing here in the Far Shores. I believe that this is necessary, and I’m willing to stand behind it.”
“You fucking kids are all the same. You’re so beau
tiful and dumb, and you can’t even imagine how bad things can go,” Rebecca said. “Then you’re dead, in a box in the ground, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“We are ready for whatever comes. You trained us to be ready yourself,” Vivik assured her. “Shall I open the gate, or…?”
“Who else is here with you?” Rebecca demanded. “Did Emily bring Anathema with her from the Outer Dark?”
“A few people came with her, though I don’t think any of them are true Anathema. Mostly families and technicians and scientists. You’ll meet them pretty soon,” Vivik said, heading for the gatehouse. “Let’s get the refugees settled inside, and then maybe you’ll have tea with me while we get them looked at and housed? We want our guests to be comfortable.”
Rebecca looked at him for a long time, before finally shrugging and turning back to the buses.
“I’d say that I hope you know what you are doing, but there’s no way,” Rebecca said, walking away. “You are supposed to be one of the smart ones, Vivik.”
He watched her from inside of the gatehouse, nearly forgetting to activate the gate as he mulled it over.
“I am,” he whispered, activating the mechanism. “I’m almost sure.”
Eighteen
Day Four
The room was much larger than it needed to be, as Henry North’s great-grandfather had built it with eventual domination of the Hegemony in mind. That conquest had never materialized, and as numbers in Central dwindled in recent years, the number of empty chairs at the great table became a suffocating reminder of diminished power. The wood-paneled walls tended to echo footsteps and clearings of throats, and the gleaming stone floors, framed artwork, and antique furniture provided an atmosphere more in line with a museum than a cartel headquarters.
The current gathering only occupied a corner of the room, the attendees clustered near the head of the table and forced to raise their voices to be heard across it. The mood was somber, and the conversation dragged. Servants hurried about with great frequency, infected by contagious apprehension, regularly providing and removing trays of sandwiches, rice bowls, and pots of coffee.
The food went largely untouched. The coffee was far more popular.
At Sofia Morales-North’s insistence, a stock of herbal tea and hot water was continually replenished. Sanjiv Mehta preferred kombucha, while Ron Kent sent the maid in search of rice milk for his coffee.
Nathan Drava received unusually attentive service from the household maids, on account of his youth, good looks, and recent inheritance, but to general disappointment, he politely required nothing save water, of which he drank sparingly.
Peter Weathers drank from a bottle of water he brought himself, and touched none of the refreshments, a calculated insult as well as a precaution.
The meeting had begun that morning, and continued through lunch into the late afternoon, with no signs of breaking or coming to resolution. If not for Lucy Kent-Mehta and Timothy Vidal-North requiring regular breaks to smoke, the meeting would have gone without intermission. There had been no actual arguments, but the room was thick with unfocused tension. The chairs were not comfortable, and the room was kept slightly too warm.
If the topic had not been so dire, Henry North reflected, some of the attendees might well have been expected to fall asleep.
“You can talk around it all that you care to,” Sanjiv Mehta said, stroking the grey hairs of his substantial beard, “but the facts will not change. Aside from our estates and a few scattered residential blocks, we have lost control of Central.”
“It would be more accurate to describe Central as having fallen to the Thule Cartel,” Kevin Morales-North insisted, his suit jacket struggling to contain the breadth of his shoulders. “Most of the territory they have taken was held in common by the citizens of Central, or belonged to the Black Sun, or other unaffiliated cartels. Our losses are actually quite modest.”
“That may be true, but it makes little difference.” Lucy tossed her bobbed hair, the accent provided by her Oxford education on full display. “We cannot cross the city, and our use of the main road is restricted.”
“You made it here safely,” Nathan said. “It is unfortunate you took one of our apport stations offline, however.”
“That was Alistair’s fault,” Lucy said wearily, touching her head. “I was under his telepathic control, and I’ve explained that already.”
“Yes,” Nathan said dryly. “It is too bad you weren’t able to handle him.”
“Alistair is beyond all of us, you little brat,” Lucy snapped. “I won’t discuss it further. The issue at hand is that we cannot guarantee the safety of those households loyal to us within the city proper. We cannot reach the Academy or the Far Shores or reinforce our besieged positions in the outskirts. If our own lands have not suffered greatly, what difference does it make? Central is occupied by a hostile power.”
“Things are not quite so dire as that,” Timothy Vidal-North countered. “We are in no danger of collapse, whatever the logistical situation.”
“That will change if we cannot soon reinforce contested positions,” Peter Weathers warned, impatiently reshuffling the documents in front of him. “The Thule occupation of the former Muir estate is particularly troublesome. It overlooks the main road and controls the approach to the outskirts and the Far Shores.”
“On that point, we may have some good news,” Henry North offered, stirring the fresh cappuccino that the younger of his two butlers had just delivered. “We are not without allies, ladies and gentlemen. I have it on good account that the old Muir estate was raided successfully yesterday.”
“Raided by whom?” Ron Kent asked, tugging at his overly starched collar. “Surely, if it were our own forces, we would have taken possession by now.”
“The raid was performed by forces affiliated with an ally in our struggle with Thule Cartel,” Lord North said smoothly. “I assure you that the intelligence is reliable. Thule forces at the estate have been neutralized, and we can occupy or bypass the property at will.”
“What of the former Lord and Lady Muir?” Sanjiv Mehta asked. “Prior failings aside, their joining our alliance could only…”
Collette Higgins cleared her throat from the furthest occupied chair.
“I regret to inform you that Lord and Lady Muir are deceased, Lord Mehta,” she said, frowning deeply. “It is very likely that they were tortured for information before they were killed.”
Lord Mehta looked stricken, while Lady Mehta gasped and daubed her eyes with a handkerchief. Sofia hurried over to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Monstrous,” Peter Weathers said, looking shaken. “What is this madness?”
Sanjiv Mehta took his glasses off to rub his eyes. Ron Kent paled, his daughter Lucy putting her hand over his.
“The same as what happened to the Ricci family,” Timothy Vidal-North said, chin resting on his hands. “How very grim.”
“Another point of positive news, then,” Lord North said. “Serafina Ricci escaped the general massacre. The Ricci family and line have not been extinguished.”
“Where is she now?” Sofia asked. “She could be useful, if only for her protocol.”
“She is at large, for the present,” Henry North said, glancing down at the tablet glowing on the table in front of him. “In the custody of a neutral party…”
“Neutral?” Lucy Kent-Mehta threw her hands up in a gesture of shock. “Who could possibly remain neutral in this conflict?”
“Neutral is perhaps the wrong term,” Sofia admitted. “It would be more accurate to say that Miss Ricci is in the hands of the enemies of our enemy.”
“You mean the Black Sun,” Peter Weathers said, grimacing and pulling at his mustache. “Certainly, they must be considered enemies.”
“Our oldest enemies,” North agreed. “In this circumstance, however…”
“You assume that Anastasia Martynova hates the Thule Cartel to the extent that she would become our de facto
ally,” Sanjiv Mehta said. “That strikes me as a dangerous assumption, Henry.”
“It is not an assumption,” Henry countered, glancing back down at the tablet. “I have received a formal offer of truce and cooperation, in the matter of the suppression of the Thule Cartel.”
“Not a de facto alliance, then,” Lucy said, jotting notes on the pad before her, “but a stated arrangement.”
“The Director announced the formal suppression of the Thule Cartel this morning. They were found in violation of the agreement signed last week, obliging Gaul Thule to a duel that he failed to attend,” Kevin added, tugging at his collar uncomfortably. “That could allow Lady Martynova to cooperate with us temporarily.”
“It could be a ruse,” Peter suggested. “If she uses the suppression as pretext to move her forces into Central, assuming we will bear the brunt of the losses against Thule, the Black Sun would be well-positioned to attack while we are weak.”
“That is unlikely,” Collette said. “Apports in or out of Central are very limited at present.”
“What help can the Black Sun provide, then?” Sanjiv asked. “They never maintained a large presence in Central, and as Kevin mentioned, their affiliated families suffered heavily in the Thule purge. Is Lady Martynova offering anything more than moral support?”
“A great deal more,” Henry said. “My understanding is that her return to Central, with a substantial force, is imminent.”
Nathan Drava nodded, while Sanjiv grunted in surprise.
“Assuming we were to agree to the arrangement,” Sofia added reassuringly, “Lady Martynova has offered a cessation of hostilities until the Thule Cartel is brought to heel, and her personal intervention in the conflict.”
The group quieted, absorbing the information, and its various implications.
“The rumors are true, then,” Lucy mused. “There will be no end to this affair, except the extinguishing of the Thule family or the Martynova family.”
“How else could she respond?” Kevin asked. “The assassination of her father demands as much.”
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 45