The Noise Revealed

by Ian Whates

  Chapter Twenty-One

  There was something new between Kethi and Leyton. They did a good job of hiding it, of masking their body language, but Mya was an expert at reading them. She was also an expert at reading Leyton, and he was trying just a little too hard not to react to Kethi. Lovers, perhaps? It was all very touching.

  She'd picked up on it the previous evening when she, Nyles and Benson had boarded The Rebellion. Not so much from Kethi, oddly enough, who'd been preoccupied with greeting them all and handing command back to Nyles, but from Leyton, whose gaze lingered just a fraction too long on the ship's erstwhile captain. The real giveaway, though, was his reaction to her. Nothing overt; he smiled warmly enough and hugged her in greeting, but he wasn't focussed on her with the sort of intensity he'd shown after she was liberated from Sheol. Mya no longer felt that she was the centre of his universe, which piqued her curiosity, not to mention her pride, and made her determined to discover who had usurped her: Kethi, it would seem.

  Mya felt a small prickling of jealousy, which was ridiculous, and she experienced a flash of amusement at her own reaction. She ought to feel pleased for him, not proprietorial. The jealousy was followed by a sudden jolt of fear. What if he could read her reaction to Benson as clearly as she could his to Kethi? No, start getting paranoid about that and it was bound to lead to awkwardness and tell-tale behaviour. She just needed to relax and act naturally.

  At least staring too much at Pavel hadn't been an issue. He was the centre of everyone's attention, with Nyles inviting him to explain to Kethi and Leyton why he was such a vital ally.

  It was interesting seeing Jim and Pavel together - these two men who, Louis aside, had been the most important in her life. Leyton was powerfully built - not fat, all solid muscle, but nor was he some muscle-bound grotesquery. He possessed the sort of rugged handsomeness displayed by a wild coastline of sweeping cliffs standing defiant against the pounding waves. He moved with the easy grace of a dancer, but held the menace of a watching bull. Pavel was older and, despite being well-toned, seemed positively slight in comparison, although the two were roughly the same height. His features were softer, more sensitive, the artful touch of grey in his hair conspiring to make him look distinguished and wise. Pavel had poise and a real presence. He could command a room with a gesture and a few well chosen words. Here was a man who exuded authority and an aura of power that was pure aphrodisiac.

  Considering the two of them now, Mya felt that Leyton had been the great love of her youth, when everything had been about energy and fierce excitement; but over the years her needs had grown more sophisticated and less visceral - technique and intelligence valued more highly than obsessive, unadulterated passion. She had matured, and found Pavel. If Leyton was the love of her youth, then Benson was the love of her life.

  Their relationship had always been an intensely private one. For professional reasons they'd gone to great lengths to ensure that no one in ULAW suspected they were sleeping together, and it seemed natural to continue such discretion now. The last thing either of them wanted was for personal factors such as her previous relationship with Leyton to cloud the important issues.

  Pavel had explained himself with typical charm and forthright sincerity, but Mya could sense that neither Kethi nor Leyton were entirely convinced. Now he would have to do the same all over again to the higher ups at Kaufman Industries, and she could only hope that they proved a more sympathetic audience.

  The party that travelled down to Home's surface was a comparatively large one. In addition to the anticipated quintet - herself, Nyles, Kethi, Leyton and Pavel - Kethi insisted on including an engineer The Rebellion had picked up somewhere along the way, Kyle, as well as a pair of the ship's security officers.

  The latter struck Mya as an affront, despite Kethi's explanation that the previous day's visit had been an 'informal one to test the ground,' while this time their intent was more official and therefore 'merits a proper escort.' It seemed more likely that the guards were there to keep an eye on Benson, and she was all ready to bridle on his behalf; but he took their presence with equanimity, forcing her to do the same.

  She noted that Nyles didn't attempt to gainsay Kethi in this. During the time they spent together aboard The Retribution, Mya had sensed a deep weariness in Nyles, as if he were going through the motions of leadership because it was expected of him and someone had to do the job. The fact that he was willing to give Kethi her head now, despite his having nominally reclaimed the captaincy of The Rebellion, suggested an interesting shift in the dynamics of command.

  Kaufman Industries had influence on Home. She supposed it was inevitable when such a vital civilisation-spanning corporation had all its executive power concentrated on a single world, but the ease with which their arrival was processed disturbed her. They bypassed official channels and were whisked through security checks and customs as if they didn't exist. In her former life as a ULAW operative, she would have flagged this and reported it as something that merited investigation. Despite recent experiences, she found her instincts were too deeply ingrained not to make their presence felt.

  She didn't get a chance to see the KI building from the outside - their party was whisked straight into an underground car park via a side entrance - but she didn't doubt it was impressive.

  She'd encountered partials before, but not often enough to prevent the manifestation of 'Cath' that greeted them from being of interest.

  "Sorry I can't meet you in person," Cath said, demonstrating that aspect of these uploaded partials that Mya found vaguely disturbing; their habit of speaking as if they were the corporeal original, as if the two were somehow interchangeable. The partial then bade them accompany the fresh-faced young man who stood flanked by two chisel-jawed security personnel, which they did. He led them via an elevator to the plush conference room where Catherine Chzyski awaited them in person.

  The security details waited outside. The rest of them were ushered in by the fresh-faced secretary, who then left. Catherine was much as Mya had expected, managing to combine the gravitas of experience with the vitality of somebody who still had things to achieve. It was the other two in the room who intrigued her: Philip and Malcolm Kaufman. No mere partials these; from what she understood they were far more than that. These insubstantial forms represented all that remained of two brilliant minds and the personalities that had animated them.

  Unsurprisingly, Benson was given the floor. Philip had evidently met him before, on New Paris, and all present seemed aware of who he was.

  "I've come here in the hope that we can act together to prevent a tragedy in the making," Pavel began. "As most if not all of you are aware, the government has been experiencing inner turmoil on an unprecedented scale in recent weeks. As yet the nature of the resulting divisions has been kept from the media, but that can't last. When the full extent of the self-inflicted wounds comes to light, I'm not sure the ULAW government can survive. Of course, the timing of this couldn't be worse. We're at a true turning point in human history: first contact with an alien civilisation. Ironically, the cause of the disunion is the very reason it can't be allowed to continue. Thankfully, the Byrzaens too have been kept in blissful ignorance of the petty squabbling their presence has sparked. So far. But the cracks are beginning to show, and it won't be long before they realise what a shambles the body governing our society is in. That can't be allowed to happen. The antagonistic factions within ULAW have to be reconciled so that we can present a united front to the Byrzaens, or we risk damaging our standing with them forever."

  "Good speech," Kethi said. "Undermined only slightly by the fact that you've been up to your neck in the very intrigues and disruptive plots you're now advocating we should try to put a stop to."

  "True," Benson held his hand up. "I can't deny it. Look, everyone has been using whatever resources they can call upon to advance or secure their own position, and I've been as guilty of that as anybody, but I was misguided. We all were. I've had a chance to stand
back and take a look at the bigger picture, and I can see the harm we're doing. If the bickering doesn't stop, nobody will benefit and the whole of the human race will be the losers here. I know that now."

  "You've expressed these views to your colleagues, I take it?" Catherine said.

  "I've tried, of course I have, but they won't listen. They're all so involved in their petty schemes and their plotting that they can't see the wood for the trees. They don't or won't accept what all this is leading to."

  Mya glanced around. It was difficult to assess people's reactions. The two transhumans were unreadable, and Leyton had adopted his granite face, which made him pretty much the same. Nyles, she knew, was already sold on Benson's sincerity, and she had a feeling that Catherine was at least swayed. The engineer, Kyle, she dismissed, still not certain what he was doing here in the first place, which left only Kethi as openly sceptical.

  Kyle's inclusion remained an enigma until later in the morning.

  "What you have to understand here," Benson was saying, "is that all the intrigue and killing that's been going on is a purely human affair. The Byrzaens are the reason it's all been happening, yes, but they're not in any way responsible. We've done all this to ourselves. I suspect the Byrzaens wouldn't understand these shenanigans if they did find out about them. As far as we can tell, they're above such things as political intrigue. I'm not even sure they're capable of dishonesty as we know it."

  "Oh yes they are," Kyle said quickly and forcefully, taking Mya and, judging by their reactions, most of the others present by surprise. This was the first time the engineer had really spoken. The hint of a smirk which Kethi swiftly banished suggested that perhaps she wasn't quite as surprised as the rest of them. "They've lied about their engines," Kyle continued.

  "How so?" Philip Kaufman wanted to know.

  "They claim their drive technology is based on zero point energy and that's complete bollocks," Kyle said. "I've worked on the engines of The Noise Within and The Rebellion, both of which are based on Byrzaen tech, and there's nothing like zero point energy involved. It's a red herring, dangled in front of us so they don't have to reveal how their stardrive really works."

  Ah. Now Mya understood what Kyle was doing here. She bet Kethi was loving every second of this.

  "Even so, assuming what you say is true - and I'm not trying to suggest for one minute that it might not be," Pavel said, doing exactly that, "we can't be certain that it's the Byrzaens themselves who are perpetrating the lies rather than the human go-betweens, who are, let me remind you, employed by ULAW."

  "I can," Philip cut in. "I've been aboard the Byrzaens' ship at New Paris, remember, and that's exactly how their drive was presented to me. No question, that deception was theirs. We've caught them out, thanks to Kyle."

  Pavel didn't show it, but Mya knew this was a setback; one he would have to work hard to recover from.

  Soon after, they broke for lunch. Philip and Malcolm left them, promising to return before the afternoon session began.

  Mya had eaten many different things in many different circumstances, but she'd never had a meal quite like the luncheon that Catherine Chzyski then hosted. Two waiters - a man and a woman, both smart and formal in black trousers and brilliant white shirts - entered the room, each guiding a trolley. The two carts were laden with trays, which were all but obscured by compartmentalised chrome lids.

  Mya and a majority of the others had taken advantage of the break in proceedings to stand and stretch their legs. As the waiters appeared, Catherine invited them to return to their seats.

  The first trolley was pushed flush to the far end of the table, and the four trays it held started to move, gliding off the trolley and onto the centre of the table, as if travelling along a continuous conveyor belt. Mya stared, fascinated, trying to decide if the smooth movement was a product of the table top or of the trays themselves. Once the first trolley had emptied it was pushed aside by the attendant, allowing the second trolley to be brought up for a repeat performance.

  The surface of the polished wood conference table looked no different either in front of or behind the strange sliding procession. Mya concluded the trays were the culprits. They came to rest in front of the guests, and Catherine invited each person to take one. As she lifted hers, Mya's fingers strayed underneath, but all they found was uniform smoothness.

  Six gleaming chrome compartments occupied her tray - two rows of three - while a flap running lengthwise at the front lifted to reveal an array of cutlery, including ornate chopsticks and silver forks and spoons. No knives, she noted, perhaps to prevent stabbings amongst the dinner guests.

  Mya had no idea where to begin with this, so watched Catherine for clues. The older woman was chatting amiably with Nyles, who sat beside her on the same side of the table as Mya, with Benson between them. Not pausing in her conversation, Catherine reached out to tap the top of the container occupying the upper left corner of her tray. The lid promptly crumpled.

  Mya instantly tapped the corresponding container on her own tray, which did likewise, the lid folding back on itself, concertinaing into a narrow strip of material at the far edge of the dish. A draft of slightly chilled air struck Mya's face in the process; not frozen or even strikingly cold, just fractionally lower than room temperature.

  She gazed at the contents. Two thirds of the dish was taken up by a leaf salad - predominantly green but shot through with curls of purples, red, and even a streak of blue. The remainder of the compartment contained small balls of white, waxy cheese, which proved to be far more than they seemed. When she bit into one it released a wonderful smoky taste that she couldn't immediately identify. There was a hint of garlic in the background, but the predominant flavour was of something almost nutty, perhaps a spice she hadn't previously come across. The salad leaves were tiny and varied, from peppery to sweet, all crisp and fresh and complimented by a light, lemony dressing which stopped just short of being piquant.

  As she savoured the first course the two waiting staff returned with glasses and a choice of red or white wines. She opted for the white, which proved to be crisp, dry, and fruity, without being in the least acidic, exactly to her taste.

  The next dish Catherine tapped was the one below the first, and Mya did likewise. Glancing around, she suspected that everyone present was following Catherine's example, and she'd bet the sly old fox knew it.

  The second lid rolled back and Mya found herself assailed by a waft of heat and the mouth-watering aromas of soy and ginger. Within were two plump, ivory-coloured shellfish, each sitting in an open-palm half-shell surrounded by a small pool of soy and topped by the thinnest ringlet of red chilli. Steam curled from the fish, which were cooked to perfection - succulent, piping hot and bursting with flavour.

  Mya felt she was getting the hang of this now. The containers somehow kept each of the varied dishes at the perfect temperature and the serving system conspired to deliver it in tip-top condition, while the waiting staff materialised with quiet efficiency to top up her glass before it ever threatened to empty. Benson had barely touched his own wine, while Leyton, sitting diagonally opposite her, refused either bottle and opted for water. She never had understood his penchant for the stuff. To her the alcohol scrubber ULAW implanted in all the eyegees was a tremendous boon. She raised her glass in the direction of her former lover and smiled, before taking another sip.

  The lid of the third container lifted to release a breath of truly chilled air, visible wisps of which dissipated to reveal the palate cleanser: three small pale balls of a citrus granita, elegantly decorated with sugar-dusted leaves to resemble a cluster of plump winter berries.

  It occurred to Mya that this was by far the best meal she'd eaten since she was snatched and thrown into Sheol, and she had to admit that the sheer volume of food was becoming a bit overwhelming.

  None the less, remembering the delicious smells that assailed her when she first unveiled the shellfish, she couldn't wait to reveal the fourth and presumably main cour
se; nor was she disappointed. As the lid rolled back she was instantly engulfed in the rich aroma of braised beef, redolent with wine, garlic and herbs. The chunks of meat were tender, flaking beneath her fork, and the whole dish packed more flavour than anything she could remember eating in ages, managing to fully live up to the burst of savoury fragrance that had heralded it.

  Despite the modest portioning of each individual course, Mya was filling up rapidly, and she viewed the two unopened dishes with more than a little trepidation. A few around the table had already progressed to the fifth, which evidently held a concoction of moist sponge, cream and chocolate. Doubtless it was lovely, but there was no way she could do justice to anything that rich right now.

  Fortunately, she was saved from having to try.

  Catherine abruptly stiffened. "Yes?" She seemed to be speaking into space and clearly wasn't addressing any of them. "What?" Implants, Mya guessed, since there was no evidence of earplugs - doubtless the whole room was programmed to respond to the CEO's voice. "Show me."

  In the air above the table a scene materialised, presumably depicting the building's lobby. A veritable sea of black garbed figures filled the area. A few startled civilians stood aside, pressing against walls as if seeking sanctuary or simply frozen to the spot, gaping at the heavily armed troops in their midst. The soldiers ignored them, moving onward and inward. ULAW, and in force.

  "Shit." The food was suddenly forgotten.

  "Must have tracked us here somehow," Benson muttered.

  "No shimmer suits," observed Leyton. "They want to intimidate and impress, not sneak in unnoticed."

  "Shut down all the elevators," Catherine instructed. "Replay the moment they first entered the building." The scene vanished, to be replaced by an apparently calm lobby, smartly dressed receptionist at her station, the whole suddenly disrupted as the troopers burst in through the front doors. "Freeze image."