Empire of Light

by Gary Gibson

  ‘Then please allow me another question. Do you think Trader’s the type to honour his promises?’

  Dakota ground her teeth. If she made any move, he could cut her throat in an instant. ‘No . . . no, I don’t.’

  ‘Then let me suggest a deal of my own, one we can both walk away from alive and feeling satisfied.’

  She stared at him with an expression like a trapped animal and said nothing.

  ‘Whatever Trader has told you,’ he continued regardless, ‘he will betray you. That’s his nature. So when that time comes, you should really try and have some kind of advantage over him. Now, you gave me the resources I needed to track his ship anywhere within our galaxy.’

  She licked her lips. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Allow me, Dakota, to give you in turn the means to control his ship at will. Observe.’

  Dakota felt that familiar tingle in the back of her head that told her a large piece of data had just been dumped into her implants, whereupon she remembered Moss was himself a machine-head now. She discovered a moment later that she had come into possession of a complete command structure for a Shoal yacht, entirely configurable to her own needs.

  She looked at him with an incredulous expression. ‘Why, Hugh? Why are you giving this to me?’

  ‘Because in exchange you will promise never to return, and to always, always leave me in peace. I believe you will now give me your word, and I will believe you when you give it, regardless of this particular transgression.’

  ‘No,’ she shook her head, ‘it’s not that simple. There’s something else you’re not telling me.’

  He stood up now and looked down at her. ‘Very well, let me put it this way. Trader’s great skill is in surviving by treachery and lies. I’ve come close to catching up with him in the past, but he always finds a way to escape me. When he betrays you – and he will – you will have the advantage. Use it to destroy him, Dakota. Save the galaxy the trouble of letting him live.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t?’

  Moss laughed. ‘Will you promise me something, Dakota? When he turns on you, will you put an end to him so he can never turn on you again?’

  ‘And you’d let me go?’

  ‘But of course,’ Moss replied, sounding almost magnanimous. He stepped away from her, and sheathed his knife.

  She staggered slowly upright, breathing hard.

  ‘So.’ He smiled again, in a leathery splitting of his face like the wide yawn of a hungry snake. ‘Do we have an agreement?’

  She thought over her options. Would Trader even be able to tell if she was lying?

  ‘You’re serious about this?’ she asked, licking her lips. ‘Quite, quite serious.’

  ‘Then I’ll do it,’ she replied, and realized with a shock that she meant it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Corso glanced up at the sound of helicopter blades cutting through the howl of the wind. He looked at Breisch, directly in front of him, then back up through the transparent window in the roof of their tent in time to see a shape pass across the face of one of Redstone’s moons.

  ‘Concentrate on your breathing,’ instructed Breisch, without opening his eyes.

  They knelt facing each other, on the antique rug spread out beneath them. The tent itself was constructed from multiple layers of highly resilient but extremely light nano-carbon, and was big enough to house up to half a dozen men with plenty of room to spare. Yet, once packed away, it was light and small enough to carry on one man’s back.

  Corso closed his eyes and focused on the thump of his own heartbeat, like a wet meat clock hammering out the seconds remaining before the fight. The sea hissed against the shore a few metres away. He recalled the words Breisch had repeated endlessly, until it became a kind of mantra: Death is inevitable. The key to survival lay only in giving up the fear of dying. Conversely, the key to victory lay in exploiting an opponent’s own fear of death.

  Corso opened his eyes again, unable to concentrate. Instead he studied the man opposite. Breisch was hard and wiry, with gaunt features, a veteran of a hundred challenges, which made him either one of the deadliest or luckiest fighters alive on Redstone, depending on whom you asked.

  It had been a considerable surprise to him when Breisch had calmly admitted, shortly after the beginning of their professional relationship, that he fully expected to die while taking part in a challenge.

  ‘It’s better than dying old and infirm,’ he had stated, in the same calm, clear tone he always spoke in. ‘And, frankly, I consider it vastly preferable.’

  ‘But you don’t have to take part in challenges any more, if you don’t want to,’ Corso had argued. Despite his long tally of violent victories, Breisch had never requested a seat in the Senate, claiming to have no interest in politics. ‘It’s hardly like anyone would blame you, after so much time. You could still honourably refuse.’

  ‘Because I’m old?’ Breisch smiled more easily than anyone Corso knew. ‘Even now, people still issue me challenges, because they want to be the one who finally takes me down. And one day, when I’m old enough, they’ll get their wish. I can’t imagine anything worse than retiring to some quiet life of public service. Better to go out fighting, don’t you think?’

  Corso had long since got over the irony that Breisch had once trained both of the Mansell brothers, who had been part of the fateful expedition to Nova Arctis. He had since worked hard to put his resentment and anger aside, and to accept that Breisch was not responsible for the actions of either Kieran Mansell or his psychopathic brother Udo – only for the quality of their combat skills.

  A little while later, they began practising some basic moves on the broken shore outside the tent, the stars clear and sharp in the evening sky.

  The old man lunged at Corso with a wicked-looking blade, constantly feinting in different directions and throwing kicks and punches when they were least expected. They were both dressed lightly despite the freezing weather, so that nothing restricted their movements.

  Despite his exertions, Corso could feel the cold seeping deep into his bones, and the sound of his breathing was like a death rattle as it emerged from the breather mask strapped over his lower face. He knew his fighting skills had improved vastly over the last few months, but he didn’t allow himself to forget that perpetual expression of disgust Breisch had worn throughout the first weeks of their training.

  Breisch feinted again and Corso anticipated his next move, darting to one side and turning at the same time to slash towards the old man’s neck with a dull-edged blade. Before he got the chance, Breisch had responded with a backwards kick that sent Corso sprawling on to the frozen gravel.

  Corso grunted as he pulled himself up. The old man was driving him even harder than usual.

  Breisch looked down at him with a satisfied grin. ‘I thought maybe you were getting too distracted, but you still did better than I thought you would.’ He reached down with one hand and helped his pupil stand.

  After a while they went back inside, Breisch warming a couple of high-protein meals on a hotplate, then retiring to his sleeping mat to rest before the coming challenge. Corso felt too wired-up to do the same.

  This would be his tenth challenge since Dakota had departed, and Breisch’s training was the only reason he had survived them. So far he had not been obliged to fight anyone else who also had the benefit of Breisch’s intensive training, and with any luck he would never need to.

  When it was almost time for the fight to start, Corso heard the sound of engines coming closer. He pulled on some thermal gear that would keep out the worst of the cold, and snapped a fresh breather mask over his face before stepping outside.

  He could see half a dozen helicopters parked on a flat area about a half kilometre inland, under the shade of a canopy tree whose massive trunk reared up for almost two hundred metres. This was a popular destination for Freeholders intent on slaughtering each other in order to gain wealth, power, women, or any combination thereof.

  He watched as a
balloon-wheeled truck came rolling up towards him, disgorging two passengers similarly swaddled in cold-weather gear. One he recognized as Marcus Kenley, the Senate’s Speaker, a round-faced man with thin grey whiskers visible around the sides of his breather mask. The other was Lucius Hilgendorf, the head of State Security under the post-coup administration, and by far one of the most dangerous men Corso had ever encountered. Above his mask, his eyes glowered like a snake whose tail had just been trodden on.

  ‘Lucas,’ said Kenley, stepping forward and shaking his hand warmly.

  Like Corso, Kenley was a moderate in the Senate. Hilgendorf, who was anything but moderate, merely nodded. Kenley’s job here was to act as Corso’s representative both inside and outside of the ring of combat, which essentially boiled down to making sure the other side did not cheat. Hilgendorf was there to play a similar role for Corso’s opponent.

  ‘Senator Jarret has asked me to make an offer,’ said Hilgendorf, stepping up to Corso. ‘He wants to know if you’re willing to negotiate a non-lethal outcome.’

  ‘What you mean is, you’re willing to let me live if I agree to surrender without a fight and automatically relinquish my Senate seat and my vote.’ Corso smiled grimly and shook his head. ‘Please tell Senator Jarret that if he’d wanted a “non-lethal solution”, he shouldn’t have issued his challenge in the first place.’

  Hilgendorf was anything but a patient man. ‘Senator Jarret’s a war veteran and a recognized Hero of the State. Maybe you should take some time to reconsider before making any snap decisions, Senator. You’re standing on pretty thin ice these days.’

  ‘Unless you’ve got a serious offer to make,’ intervened Kenley, ‘you should remain silent, Mr Hilgendorf

  Corso raised one hand. ‘It’s okay, Marcus, it’s only protocol. Mr Hilgendorf’s just here on a formality, isn’t that right?’ he said, looking Hilgendorf directly in the eye.

  ‘We’re offering you an opportunity to step down before you get hurt,’ Hilgendorf insisted. ‘After all, none of your previous opponents possessed the . . . unique skills you and Senator Jarret both share.’

  Corso frowned, momentarily thrown off-balance.

  ‘Then I’ll extend the same courtesy to Mr Jarret,’ he replied, unsure exactly what Hilgendorf had meant. ‘If he throws in his glove, I’ll let him leave here alive. Otherwise, you can tell him I look forward to meeting him in combat.’

  Behind his mask, Hilgendorf’s expression seemed to freeze in place. ‘Very well, then. I’ll pass your decision back to him.’

  ‘You can take the truck, Mr Hilgendorf,’ said Kenley ‘We’ll walk to the meeting ground.’ Kenley cast a questioning look at Corso, who nodded his assent.

  Hilgendorf turned away without another word, and climbed back into the truck. A moment later the vehicle’s caterpillar treads gripped the shattered stone beneath it, and headed back the way it had come.

  ‘Fun ride on the way here?’ asked Corso.

  ‘How could you tell?’ Kenley grumbled. ‘Look . . . in all seriousness, Jarret isn’t like anyone else you’ve been up against. He’s got a hell of a reputation in the combat ring. You must know that, right?’

  ‘And I don’t, is that it?’

  Kenley started to say something, then seemed to change his mind. He nodded along the frozen shore. ‘Care to take a stroll?’

  Corso glanced back at the tent, where Breisch was still resting. ‘It’d be warmer inside.’

  ‘Please,’ Kenley insisted. ‘Indulge an old man’s intense paranoia.’

  Corso shrugged, and they began to walk parallel to the waves beating against the shoreline. In the distance, a lighting rig was being set up at the combat ring, and soon sent beams of blazing brilliance slicing through the freezing mist that clung to the terrain further inland. The voices of the work teams racing to get everything ready in time carried to them across the still air.

  Kenley stopped after a minute and turned to face Corso. ‘There are rumours that Legislate forces are planning something at the Tierra cache.’

  ‘I guess bad news gets about fast,’ Corso replied, feeling weary. ‘Okay, they’re not just rumours. We found smuggled shipments of armaments being taken to the research base there. There’s a new batch of technical and research staff just arrived there too, and I’m not sure I can even bring myself to tell you just how many of them I think are Legislate agents.’

  ‘But surely there must be something you can do,’ Kenley protested. ‘You’re in charge of the Peacekeeper Authority.’

  ‘Yeah, but nobody elected me. And I was only accepted at first because everyone I dealt with was shit-scared of so much as sneezing in Dakota Merrick’s direction. Everything went downhill once she left. And now we’ve managed to speed up the production of new superluminal drives, it’s just a matter of time before someone decides to make a grab for the cache.’

  ‘You make it sound like there’s going to be a war.’

  There already is a war, Corso thought. Yet most people seemed unable to grasp the notion that a conflict happening thousands of light-years away could possibly impinge upon them. Far fewer seemed to appreciate the enormous danger they were all facing.

  ‘The way things are looking, it’s going to be a pretty one-sided war.’ He lowered his voice, even though there was no one nearby who could possibly hear them over the crashing of the surf. ‘Did you find out who ordered the arrest of Martinez and his senior officers?’

  Kenley nodded. ‘It was Jarret, after he arranged a quorum of senators through a series of back-room deals. I don’t have any hard evidence, but I’m very, very sure he’s got his hands deep in the Legislate’s pockets. More than that, he has someone working for him on board the Mjollnir.’

  Corso stopped and stared at him. ‘Who?’

  ‘His name’s Simenon. Martinez’s second in command.’

  Corso’s mask made a harsh metallic sound as he sucked in his breath. ‘Damn.’

  They started walking again. ‘We have people on the frigate, too,’ Kenley continued, ‘so we have some idea what happened. The quorum sent Simenon a directive that put him in charge and gave him the authority to throw Martinez, and any of his senior officers who didn’t comply, in the brig, as well as putting the remains your man Driscoll discovered under lock and key until the Mjollnir got back to Redstone.’

  ‘And you think the Legislate is secretly backing Jarret?’

  ‘I picked up a rumour that the Mjollnir’s next stop after here is Sol. A military R&D base on Earth’s moon went silent a week back, and there’s good reason to believe that’s where they’re going to take the remains of the Atn. They’re stopping here first so they can replace the crew with more of their own people.’

  ‘Under Simenon’s command, I presume.’

  Kenley nodded.

  ‘Idiots, fucking idiots. All this time wasted, and we could have cracked that damn Atn open to see what’s inside.’

  ‘The thing I don’t understand is why Jarret would get into bed with the Legislate like this,’ said Kenley. ‘He despises them and everything they stand for. It just doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Look, we’re still losing territory to the Uchidans. The whole reason for the expedition to Nova Arctis was because of pressure to found a new Freehold colony. With the whole galaxy potentially open to us, there’s now an even bigger pressure to try again somewhere a lot farther away. My commandeering the Mjollnir gave Jarret the perfect excuse to call me out, and, if he wins, jurisdiction over the frigate then passes across to his side of the Senate House. That means control over the terms of settlement, once a new system is located, stays on their side.’

  Kenley nodded, understanding. ‘And then we’d be out in the cold, wouldn’t we? But that still doesn’t explain his connection with the Legislate.’

  ‘The Legislate wants the remains Driscoll found, right? With me out of the way, Jarret’s going to be within his rights to hand them over. And founding a colony is a very expensive business, remember. Lots of moti
vation there to climb right into bed with the Legislate and get busy.’

  This was assuming Whitecloud had really found something significant, and not just a pile of million-year-old junk. But Corso tried not to think about that possibility too much.

  ‘And you really think the other side of the House is going to just roll over and play dead if you win tonight?’

  Corso breathed hard. ‘I don’t know. Maybe not. But at least, with Jarret out of the way, they’re going to have to figure out some other strategy that doesn’t make it so damn obvious they’re in cahoots with the Legislate.’

  ‘I think you’d better be prepared for the worst, Lucas. Things could get very ugly, even with Jarret dead.’

  Corso studied Kenley’s face. ‘You have something in mind?’

  ‘I think at the very least we should set up safe-houses around Unity. As somewhere we can retreat to if necessary.’

  ‘You really think it’ll come to that?’

  ‘Worse things have happened.’

  Corso nodded. ‘You’re talking about another coup?’

  Kenley’s expression was grim. ‘Just tell me one thing. Are you absolutely certain whatever Driscoll found out there wouldn’t actually be safer in the Legislate’s hands?’

  Corso laughed. ‘You weren’t there in Ocean’s Deep, Marcus. It was a total travesty. I don’t think the Legislate could have botched it more if they’d tried.’

  Kenley reached out and put a hand on Corso’s arm, halting him. ‘Lucas . . . were you aware Jarret was trained by Breisch?’

  Corso stared at him and remembered what Hilgendorf had said. ‘You’re certain about this?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘But Breisch never . . .’ he paused. Breisch never told me. Corso’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

  ‘Jarret is the kind of man who prefers not to pick on people his own size, if you follow me, Senator,’ Kenley explained. ‘He has a reputation for treachery.’

  ‘I know that. But Breisch . . .’

  ‘The old man has a strong sense of personal ethics, and he was deeply offended by the way Jarret misused the skills he’d learned. He finds people with influence in the Senate and first arranges for the murder of someone very close to them,’ Kenley continued. ‘Then he leaves just enough clues to show he was responsible, so the target winds up calling him out for a fight. Sound familiar?’