Ice and Fire: Chung Kuo Series

by David Wingrove

  Tsu Ma answered him softly. ‘Not at all, Shai Tung. You mistake my meaning. Things have changed. Many who were angry three years ago have cooled. They see things differently now, even in the House.’

  Li Shai Tung looked about him, expecting strong disagreement with Tsu Ma’s remarks, but there was nothing. They looked at him expectantly.

  ‘I still don’t follow you. You mean they’d have him back? After what he did?’

  Tsu Ma shook his head. ‘Not as General, no. But in some other role.’

  Li Shai Tung looked down sharply. It was more than he could have hoped for. But dare he say yes? Dare he call the old rogue back?

  ‘We are not alone in thinking things have gone too far,’ said Wu Shih, picking up on what Tsu Ma had said. ‘There are many at First Level – even among the Hung Mao – who feel we gave too much; were too timid in our dealings with the Dispersionists. They would see the changes to the Edict reversed, The New Hope melted down.’

  ‘We daren’t go so far. There would be war, surely?’

  Tsu Ma leaned forward. ‘Not if we challenge them in their own sphere.’

  ‘You mean the House?’

  There were nods all around. So, they had discussed this between them. Why? Had he been so preoccupied? So unreachable?

  Wei Feng spoke for them all. ‘We know the last three years have been hard for you, Shai Tung. You have tasted bitterness and we have had to watch in silence. But we shall watch no longer, or hold our tongues for fear of hurting you. We have seen the plan your advisor, Shepherd, drew up and…’

  Li Shai Tung sat forward jerkily. ‘Impossible! No one has seen those papers!’

  Wei Feng waited a moment then continued. ‘Not impossible, old friend. Not at all. Shepherd merely took advantage of his right as equal to appeal to us. He knew you would not act as your heart dictated, so he sent us copies.’

  Li Shai Tung stared back at him, astonished. Then they knew…

  ‘And we agree.’ Wei Feng was smiling now. ‘Don’t you see, Li Shai Tung. We agree with Shih Shepherd’s proposals. Our enemies have gone too far. To kill your son and take advantage from it – it was too much for any man to bear. And a T’ang is not just any man. A T’ang is one of Seven.’

  ‘And the Seven?’

  Wei Feng looked about him, then back at Li Shai Tung. ‘In this the Seven shall do as Li Shai Tung decides.’

  As the door at the far end of the room hissed open, steam billowed out into the corridor beyond. Berdichev shivered but stood straighter, his skin still tingling from the shower.

  An armed guard stood there in the doorway, head bowed, a clean silk pau folded over one arm. Behind him stood two Han servants who, after a moment’s hesitation, entered the room and began to dry Berdichev with soft towels. When they had done, he went over to the guard and took the full-length gown from him, pulling it on and tying it at the waist.

  ‘You have my charm?’

  The guard’s head moved fractionally, but remained bowed. ‘I’m sorry, excellency. I was given only the pau.’

  Berdichev huffed impatiently and looked up at the overhead camera. Moments later an official appeared at the far end of the corridor and hurried to him. The man bowed deeply, his face flushed with embarrassment, and held out one hand, offering the necklace.

  ‘My humble apologies, Excellency. I did not understand.’

  Berdichev took the silver chain and fastened it about his neck, closing his hand over the smooth surface of the charm a moment. The impertinence of these little men, he thought, making a mental note of the official’s number – so prominently displayed on his chest – before he waved him away. Then he waited as one of the two Han brought him anti-static slippers while the other combed and plaited his hair. Only then, when they were finished, did Director Clarac make his appearance.

  Clarac embraced him lightly and then stepped back, smiling pleasantly, his appearance and manner the very model of elegance and charm. Berdichev smiled tightly and gave the barest of nods in response to Clarac’s respectful bow. As ever, he was in two minds about Clarac’s value to the project. He was a good front man, but the real work was done by his team of four assistants. Clarac had only to step out of line once and he would be out, family connections or no.

  Clarac’s voice oozed warmth and friendliness. ‘Soren! It’s a real delight to have you here as our guest.’

  Yes, thought Berdichev, but I’m the last person you expected to see up here today. I bet you were shitting your elegant white pants when you heard I was here. That said, Berdichev was impressed by what he had seen. The defences about The New Hope left nothing to be desired. Neither had he had any reason to complain about the security measures surrounding visitors to the base. He had been forced to undergo the full body search and decontamination procedure. And when he had tried to bully the guards into making an exception in his case, their officer had politely but firmly stated that there could be no exceptions – hadn’t Shih Berdichev insisted as much?

  ‘Shih Clarac,’ he answered, distancing the man at once and subtly reminding him of their relative status. ‘I’m delighted to be here. But tell me, what are you doing about the spy camera?’

  Clarac’s momentary hesitation was telling. He was a man who prided himself on having everything at his fingertips, but he had not counted on Berdichev’s directness. Clarac was used to social nicety. It was how he functioned. He approached such matters slowly, obliquely, over wine and sweetmeats. But Berdichev had no time for such ‘niceties’.

  ‘We know about the remote,’ Clarac answered, recovering quickly. ‘In fact, if you’ll permit me, Shih Berdichev, I’ll take you to our tracking room.’

  Berdichev nodded tersely and walked on, not waiting for Clarac, who had to hurry to catch up with him.

  ‘And that gap in your defences – the blind spot on darkside – how do you account for that?’

  Clarac did not hesitate this time. ‘Our defence experts have assured me that nothing of any real size could get through undetected. The blind spot, as you call it, is a mere 30 degrees of arc. Our central sensors would detect any ship coming in from five thousand li out. In any case, no one would come from that direction. There’s nothing out there. You would have to orbit the moon in a one-man craft to get into position. And who would do that?’

  Berdichev stopped and stared at him a moment.

  ‘Besides which,’ Clarac added quickly, facing Berdichev, ‘there’s the question of cost. To extend our defence satellite system to cover the darkside channel would cost a further one hundred and twenty million. The budget is already two hundred and eighty-five per cent over original costings. Our investors are justifiably concerned…’

  ‘And if one man did just what you say is impossible and slipped in on the darkside?’

  Clarac laughed. ‘If he did it would make no difference. Every airlock is linked to central security. There are seals at every level. And more than a thousand security men guarding the outer shell alone. The inner shell is a self-sufficient unit which can be cut off at once from the outer shell. As the engines and life-support systems are there, there’s no possibility of them being under threat. No, the only way the Seven could get at The New Hope would be to try to blow it out of the sky from below. And we’ve designed our defence system to prevent just that possibility.’

  Berdichev sniffed, then, satisfied, nodded and began to walk on. Beside him, Clarac began to talk about the progress they had made, the difficulties they had overcome, but Berdichev was hardly listening. He had seen the reports already. What he wanted were answers to some of the things they might not have thought of. He wanted to make certain for himself that nothing had been overlooked.

  In the tracking room he took a seat at the desk and listened while Clarac explained the system. But all the time he was looking about him, noting things.

  Interrupting Clarac he pointed to the screen that showed the remote spy camera. ‘You’re certain it’s not a weapon?’

  Clarac laughed. A laug
h which, to Berdichev’s ear, was just a touch too self-confident.

  ‘We’ve scanned it thoroughly, of course. There’s an engine unit at the back of it and a whole system of foils and anti-jamming devices, and though the central core of it is lead-screened, our experts have calculated that there’s barely enough room for the camera unit, let alone any kind of weaponry.’

  ‘Unless they’ve developed something new, neh?’

  Clarac looked at him and gave a slight bow, understanding that he would be allowed nothing today. He would need answers for everything.

  ‘I’ve assumed that that might be the case. Which is why I personally ordered that the thing should be tracked twenty-four hours a day. I’ve two lasers trained on the aperture constantly. At the smallest sign of unusual activity they’ll blow the thing apart.’

  ‘Before it can damage The New Hope?’

  ‘The lasers are set for automatic response. The remote would be blasted out of the sky in less than a fiftieth of a second.’

  Berdichev turned his head and looked at Clarac, for the first time letting a brief smile signal his satisfaction.

  ‘Good. I want nothing to stop The New Hope from making its maiden flight three months from now.’

  He saw the surprise on Clarac’s face, followed an instant later by a broad smile of unfeigned delight. ‘But that’s excellent, Shih Berdichev! That’s marvellous news! When did the Seven agree to this?’

  ‘They haven’t. But they will. Very soon now. By the week’s end there will be a proposal in the House. We’re going to push them on this one. We’re going to make them fulfil the promises they made three years ago. And then we’ll push some more. Until there’s a whole fleet of these ships. You understand me? But this is the first, the most important of them. The New Hope will break their stranglehold. They know that and they’ll try to prevent it – but we must pre-empt their every move. That’s why it’s so important things are right up here. That’s why I came to see things for myself

  Clarac bowed. ‘I understand, Shih Berdichev. You think, then, that we should extend the satellite system?’

  Berdichev shook his head. ‘No. I’m satisfied with your reasoning. As you say, it would be impossible for a single man to do any real damage to the craft. Let us worry about more direct approaches, eh? And for a start let’s destroy that remote. I’m sure one of our ferry craft could have a little accident, eh? A technical malfunction, perhaps, that would place it on a collision course?’

  Clarac smiled. ‘Of course, Shih Berdichev. It shall be done at once.’

  Fei Yen stood in the shade of the willow, waiting for the two princes to come along the path that led to the bridge. She had seen their craft land only minutes earlier and had placed herself deliberately here where they would have to pass her. Her maids stood off at a slight distance, amongst the trees, talking quietly amongst themselves and pretending not to watch her, but she knew they were as inquisitive as she. For the past three years they had shared her tedious exile on her father’s estate, where she had seen no one but her brothers and aunts. Today, however, for the first time since the period of mourning had ended, she had been granted permission to call upon the young prince – to stay a week and celebrate his birthday.

  Seeing movement among the trees at the far end of the stone-flagged path, she turned and signalled to the maids to be quiet. Here they come! she mimed exaggeratedly.

  The maids giggled then, obedient, fell silent.

  Fei Yen turned back to watch the two approach. But as they came closer she drew her sandalwood fan and waved it impatiently, certain there must be a mistake. Where was Tao Chu? Where was Tsu Ma’s strapping young nephew?

  She saw the taller of the boys hesitate, then touch the arm of the other and lean close to whisper something. The smaller of them seemed to stare at her a moment, then turn to the other and nod. Only then did the older boy come on.

  Three paces from her he stopped. At first she didn’t recognize him, he was so much taller, so much gawkier than when she had seen him last.

  ‘Li Yuan?’

  Li Yuan swallowed and then bowed; an awkward, stilted movement that betrayed his unease. When he straightened up and looked at her again she saw his face was scarlet with embarrassment. His lips moved as if he was about to say something, but he had not formed the words when she interrupted him.

  ‘Where is Tao Chu? I was told Tao Chu would be with you.’

  There were giggles from the trees behind her, and she turned sharply, furious with her maids, then turned back in time to see Li Yuan summon the small boy forward.

  ‘Fei Yen?’ said the boy, bowing elegantly like a tiny courtier. Then, in a lilting yet hesitant voice that betrayed his unfamiliarity with English, he added, ‘I am most honoured to meet you, Lady Fei. My uncle told me you were beautiful, but he did not tell me how beautiful.’

  She laughed, astonished. ‘And who have I the pleasure of addressing?’

  The boy bowed again, enjoying her astonishment in the same way he had enjoyed the applause of the T’ang earlier that day when he had played Tsu Tiao. ‘I am Tsu Tao Chu, son of Tsu Wen, and third nephew of the T’ang, Tsu Ma.’

  The fan that she had been waving stopped in mid-motion and clicked shut. ‘Tao Chu?’ She laughed – a different, shorter laugh, expressing a very different kind of surprise – then shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I mean, you can’t be. I was told…’

  Then she understood. She heard the giggling from the trees topple over into laughter. Flushing deeply, she lowered her head slightly. ‘Tsu Tao Chu. I… I’m delighted to meet you. Forgive me if I seemed confused. I…’ Then, forgetting her disappointment, she too burst into laughter.

  ‘What is it?’ asked the eight-year-old, delighted that he had somehow managed to amuse this mature woman of nineteen.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said quickly, fanning herself and turning slightly, so that the shadow of the willow hid her embarrassment. ‘Nothing at all’ She turned quickly to Li Yuan, finding it easier, suddenly, to talk to him. ‘Li Yuan, forgive me. My father, Yin Tsu, sends his deep regards and best wishes on your forthcoming birthday. I have come on his behalf to celebrate the day.’

  Li Yuan’s smile was unexpectedly warm. Again he bowed, once more colouring from neck to brow. His awkwardness made her remember the last time they had met – that time he had come to her and cried upon her shoulder, four days after Han Ch’in’s death. Then, too, his reaction had been unexpected. Then, too, he had seemed to shed a skin.

  ‘I… I…’ He stuttered, then looked down, seeming almost to laugh at himself. ‘Forgive me, Fei Yen. I was not told you were coming.’

  She gave the slightest bow. ‘Nor I until this morning.’

  He looked up at her, a strange expectation in his eyes. ‘Will you be staying long?’

  ‘A week.’ She turned and signalled to her maids who at once came out from beneath the trees and hurried along the path to her. Then, turning back, she added, ‘We had best be getting back, don’t you think? They’ll be expecting us in the house.’ And, before they could answer, she turned away, heading back towards the bridge.

  Li Yuan stood there a while, watching her. Only when he turned to speak to Tao Chu did he realize how avidly the boy was studying him.

  ‘What are you staring at, Squib?’ he said, almost angrily, conscious that his cheeks were warm for the third time that afternoon.

  ‘At you, Great Yuan,’ answered Tao Chu with a mock earnestness that made Li Yuan relent. Then, in a softer voice, the small boy added, ‘You love her, don’t you?’

  Li Yuan laughed awkwardly then turned and looked back up the path. ‘What does it matter? She was my brother’s wife.’

  The Overseer’s House dominated the vast plain of the East European plantation. Three tiers high, its roof steeply pitched, it rested on stilts over the meeting point of the two broad irrigation canals that ran north-south and east-west, feeding the great latticework of smaller channels. To the south lay the workers’ quarters; long, low h
uts that seemed embedded in the earth. To the north and east were store-houses; huge, covered reservoirs of grain and rice. West, like a great wave frozen at its point of turning under, lay the City, its walls soaring two li into the heavens.

  It was late afternoon and the shadow of the Overseer’s House lay like a dark, serrated knife on the fields to the east. There, in the shadow, on a bare earth pathway that followed the edge of one of the smaller north-south channels, walked three men. One walked ahead, alone and silent, his head down, his drab brown clothes, with their wide, short trousers, indicative of his status as field worker. The two behind him joked and laughed as they went along. Their weapons – lethal deng rifles, ‘lantern guns’ – slung casually over their shoulders. They were more elegantly dressed, the kingfisher blue of their jackets matching the colour of the big sky overhead. These were the Overseer’s men, Chang Yan and Teng Fu; big, brutal men who were not slow to chastise their workers and beat them if they fell behind with quotas.

  ‘What does he want?’ Teng asked, lifting his chin slightly to indicate the man plodding along in front of them but meaning the Overseer when he said ‘he’. No one requested to see the Overseer. He alone chose who came to see him.

  ‘The man’s a thief,’ said Chang. He spat out into the channel, below and to his left, and watched the off-white round of spittle drift away slowly on the water. Then he looked back at Teng. ‘One of the patrol cameras caught him in the Frames making harvest.’

  The Frames were where they grew the special items – strawberries and lychees, pineapples and oranges, grapes and peaches, cherries and almonds, pears and melons.

  ‘Stupid,’ Teng said, looking down and laughing. ‘These peasant types – they’re all stupid.’

  Chang shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I thought this one was different. He was supervisor. A trusted man. We’d had no trouble with him before.’

  ‘They’re all trouble,’ said Teng, scratching his left buttock vigorously. ‘Stupid and trouble. It’s genetic. That’s what it is.’