The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy)

by Neil Davies

  The Controller turned back to the window. So many questions, but he had no answers, just an increasing feeling of paranoia and the need to have trusted people around him. Was Markland one he could trust? He had to believe so.

  He turned his eyes to look over the green treetops into the mist-shrouded distance. Barely discernible, little more than a shadow in the mist, was the great structure of the Rees Bridge, connecting his Palace, which occupied an area of land that his cultural advisors told him was once known, before the wars, as Great Britain, to the smaller official residence of Loadra. He had read once that the smaller land mass had been called Ireland, but now it was an annex of his Palace. Places that in history seemed to have such grandeur, whose names conjured tales of continental wars and people with different customs, different appearances, even different languages, were now building complexes in his world, a united world under one government, one religion.

  He couldn't help but wish he lived in those ancient times.

  So much more interesting. So much more life!

  His thoughts were interrupted by his desk communicator.

  "Yes?"

  Triggered by his voice, the communicator crackled and a faintly metallic, inhuman voice filled the room.

  "High Priest Loadra is here to see you Controller."

  The voice grated with him and he thought wistfully of the soft, human voices of the communicators on 'Armistice'. The Reagold Corporation once more infiltrated his thoughts.

  "Let him enter."

  The door slid open and Loadra strode in, his mane of black hair seemingly even wilder after the events on 'Armistice'. He looked harried, impatient. The Controller allowed himself a small smile. He had summoned Loadra a short time ago and it was obvious that the summons was inconvenient. He gained some small pleasure from the knowledge.

  "Sit down Loadra. Take a moment to calm yourself. You look flustered."

  The High Priest sat himself, reluctantly, in a chair across the Controller's desk, next to Markland, whom he acknowledged with a brief nod.

  The Controller remained standing at the window, his back towards the two men, looking out over the forest, across to the Rees Bridge. The existence of both was a measure of the technological marvels capable by Earth's own scientists and technicians and, while it was true that they were no real match for those employed by the Reagold Corporation, their ability was unquestioned. So why the sudden support for Reagold from the Church? More questions. Perhaps Loadra could answer some of them?

  "You wished to speak to me, Controller." Loadra's voice, although under tight control, betrayed his impatience and annoyance at this sudden request for a meeting.

  The Controller sighed, just enough to let Loadra know how much it saddened him to see his religious advisor so agitated, and turned away from the view. He crossed to his chair and seated himself, leaning back, steepling his fingers under his chin.

  "Tell me about the Reagold Corporation." The Controller's voice was soft, almost inaudible, but the effect of his words on Loadra were obvious. The High Priest failed to hide the moment of panic that quickly subsided into caution and perhaps even a trace of fear.

  What are you afraid of revealing? What secrets do you and your Church share with Reagold?

  "You know their history as well as I do," said Loadra, his words slow and considered.

  "I know what the historians tell us, and I know that the Larnian Church always considered the Reagold Corporation an evil thing, an enemy of Larn. So, tell me, why is the Church now so eager to allow Reagold onto Earth? Indeed, not only allow, but welcome with open arms?"

  How much does he know or suspect? thought Loadra. I must be careful. I have to presume he knows nothing and hope that is true.

  "I am not privy to all the reasons behind the decisions of the High Council, Controller. As you know, I was with you on 'Armistice' when this decision was first taken."

  "Come now, Loadra. I'm sure you were in contact with them in some way. I can't believe they would leave one of their senior High Priests, the advisor to the Controller of Earth, out of such an important decision."

  He's guessing, thought Loadra. He doesn't know about my secret communications network. Only guessing.

  "Some things have to be decided immediately, even without some important members being present."

  "Even so, I'm sure you must have questioned such a radical change of policy? Ah, but I'm forgetting that you have had a similarly spectacular change of heart. I heard your sermon the other day on the wonders of Reagold technology, and yet I seem to remember a sermon less than a year ago re-affirming the evils and heresies of that same corporation. Could you perhaps explain this to me?"

  Loadra hesitated only a second before answering.

  "We are all entitled to change our minds, Controller. I admit that I was wrong in my previous estimations of the Reagold Corporation."

  Shigra forgive me. These words are almost as difficult to say as that sermon. The necessities of this time sicken me.

  The Controller said nothing, simply stared at his religious advisor.

  His eyes shift. He refuses to look directly at me. His voice is strong, but a faint tremor betrays his nervousness.

  The Controller swivelled his chair so that he once more looked towards the window. From this low vantage he could not see the forest, but the ghostly image of the Rees Bridge loomed up in the swirling mist

  He's lying. I don't believe he has changed his mind about Reagold, but he has been ordered to say otherwise. What is the Church planning?

  "Tell me about the representative Reagold are sending to us. I believe her name is Tina Harrison?" The Controller spoke without turning his chair.

  "I believe so, Controller."

  "Have you met her before?"

  "No."

  A slight hesitation before answering, thought the Controller. He's lying again.

  "Do you know anything about her at all?"

  "I believe she is a Senior Marketing Executive for the Corporation. She is apparently well qualified and highly recommended for the task."

  "The report both of us has received told me that."

  "I don't know anything other than what is in that report, Controller." Loadra shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  Why is he questioning this so much? Does he suspect? No. He may suspect the Church of having some ulterior motive but he doesn't know what that might be. It's not the first time the Larnian Church has involved itself in intrigue, but always for the benefit of Earth.

  The Controller stood and crossed to the window once more, seeking calm and peace in the view.

  Loadra is hiding something. His Church is hiding something.

  "Is there any chance that you might give a straight answer to any of my questions?"

  "Controller?" Loadra feigned hurt in his voice. "All my answers have been straight. I wouldn't try to fool you."

  "You don't know any other way," snapped the Controller.

  He turned and raised a hand to suppress Loadra's defence.

  "Please don't deny it, Loadra. I'm too tired to play these word games."

  I shouldn't have lost control, should have kept my voice calm. I really am too tired.

  He forced his voice to be calm with just a trace of weariness. "You may go now. Thank you for attending so promptly. You too Commander. Thank you for being present."

  Loadra rose from his chair, his worried expression hidden from the Controller. The Church did not want the Controller taking too close a personal interest in this Reagold situation. He glanced towards Markland and thought he detected a similar worry there. That was good. There might yet come a time when the Church needed the support of the military.

  "Oh, Loadra?" The Controller turned away from the window and crossed to his desk, glancing briefly at his auto-diary where it glowed in the surface of the desk. "Please inform your High Council that I wish to be present when Reagold's representative arrives? I think it only right that I be there at such a momentous occasion."

/>   Chapter 42

  What am I doing? I'm no hero.

  Steve Drake lay on his bunk aboard The Seven Deadly Sins, staring at the cabin ceiling, dull, metallic, practical but uninspiring. He pulled his gaze away, glancing at the walls, equally dull and metallic, at the floor, which could not hide its true nature even beneath the thin, worn material that passed for a carpet.

  His eyes finally settled upon the flight-time indicator set in the far wall. 23:47. Twenty-three hours and forty seven minutes since he had lifted off from Sellit.

  Why am I doing this? Pride? Revenge? More like insanity!

  Beneath him he could feel the low hum of the engines, hear the slight whine of the air control system all around him. He thought briefly of the autopilot moving him steadily towards the programmed destination. Why? Why had he chosen to go to Aks?

  No, not even chosen. More than that. I argued that I should go. I forced myself forward to go. I made those bastards at the Inner Council give me permission to leave for Aks.

  Because Aks was where the Szuiltan and Human cultures were clashing. Because Aks was where there was an active resistance to the Szuiltans. And because there were rumours that the Szuiltan President himself may soon travel to Aks.

  "I must be insane." The words were whispered but seemed louder, sibilant echoes clashing with the air system whine.

  "Yes?" The internal communications system made him jump. He had almost forgotten there was anyone else on board. He had definitely forgotten that the system was open.

  "Just talking to myself." He swung his legs off the side of the bunk and sat up, composing himself. "Why aren't you resting? I told you, there's nothing we can do until we get closer."

  "I know." The voice from the small grill alongside the flight-time indicator was young, a slight tremble of excitement betraying what Steve saw as immaturity. How could anyone with any maturity find excitement in this situation? "I just wanted to watch what was going on."

  Why did I agree to taking him with me? Steve smiled grimly. Because that was the condition under which they'd let me go. But someone so young, so inexperienced?

  They claimed he was a tried and trusted agent. Steve suspected he was a junior, perhaps even a trainee.

  I bet all their real agents are on more important missions than this one.

  "Remind me who you are again?" said Steve, not trying to hide the bitterness in his tone. "I'm no good at names of people I don't give a shit about."

  It's unfair to take it out on him, thought Steve. But, then again, there's no one else here.

  There was silence from the communications system, just a faint crackle of interference that was too strong for the suppressers to kill altogether.

  Maybe I was a little harsh?

  The silence continued.

  Perhaps he's on his way here to beat the shit out of me? He may be young, but he's still had more training than I have.

  When the voice finally broke through the silence, Steve released the breath he had not realised he had been holding.

  "Mr Drake." The voice was quiet and calm.

  He took time to compose himself and keep control. Perhaps he's not so immature after all.

  "I realise that my presence here is against your will, and I didn't volunteer for it either, but we must make the best of it. I'm young, but I am a trained field agent. I can help you make contact with our people on Aks, make sure they accept you and don't kill you as a spy."

  Steve swallowed in a suddenly dry throat. True, he thought. True.

  There was a moment's silence.

  "And my name is Agent Rawlings, but you may call me Jason."

  Steve felt suddenly guilty. This Agent Rawlings was only doing his job after all. He was trying to be as helpful as he could given the circumstances, and Steve did need some kind of help in finding the resistance groups that various Inner Council agents on Aks had apparently infiltrated.

  "I'm sorry Jason. My nerves are just a bit fucked at the moment." He lay back on his bunk. "I think I'll rest a little longer. Wake me if anything happens."

  In the control room, Jason Rawlings smiled and flicked the communicator off. That had been easy, twisting this trader around from anger to guilt. He knew he was good at his job.

  The best.

  That was why he had been chosen. This was no baby-sitting assignment. This was important, vitally important. His meeting with Councillor Braben shortly before lift-off had made that perfectly clear.

  "All our forecast-data points to Aks becoming increasingly important in galactic events," the Councillor had said as the two of them sat in the comfortable surroundings of Braben's private quarters.

  Jason had shifted with some discomfort in the plush armchair. He was unused to such luxuries, and not even the Reagold logo in the arm of the chair could lessen the impression of opulence.

  "We have good reports suggesting that a landing of Szuiltans will soon take place, adding to the Bosen presence already there."

  "And then there's Suzex, sir," broke in Jason, his slight discomfort failing to dampen his natural confidence.

  "Yes," said Braben thoughtfully. "Suzex. Reports of his involvement continue to trickle in. And that's the problem. They're only trickling in. We have enough agents on Aks, some in quite senior positions, that we should have something more definite. Losing Agent Mirram from her position right next to the Mayor was unfortunate, but there are others who, while not as close, should be close enough to know more."

  "Are the reports being blocked?"

  "That's one possibility, certainly. We need something to flush things out, something unusual or unexpected enough to force matters. If someone is working against us on Aks then we need to bring them into the open."

  "Drake."

  Braben smiled. Agent Rawlings was both intelligent and direct but, just as important, not too intelligent.

  "Exactly. Steve Drake has been making noises about wanting to get back at the Szuiltans. The man's a complete fool of course, and no use to anyone normally, but here... well, I think we can use him."

  Braben took another sip of the wine in his hand. It was only made of simulated fruit, but the taste was still pleasurable.

  "With a bit of subtle manipulation, we've directed his desires towards Aks and persuaded him that he should be accompanied."

  "By me?"

  "By you."

  Jason smiled. "So, I get him to Aks, put him in touch with some of our people and wait for things to happen, yes?"

  "Yes." Clever, thought Braben. Perhaps a little familiar in his tone, but useful.

  Jason tried a sip of his own wine and grimaced. He was happier with a bottle of MBP.

  "What if Drake becomes a liability? He's got no training and he's likely to tell people about us who shouldn't know."

  "That's part of your job. Make sure he doesn't. Stay by him, watch him, lead him away if necessary."

  "And if he continues to be a problem?"

  Braben shrugged, took another sip of wine.

  "Kill him."

  Chapter 43

  The globe of Earth had been central in the shuttle's viewing portal for some time now and Tina Harrison gazed at it with a calm and poise she did not feel.

  Out at the edge of the Solar System lay the Reagold Cruiser which had brought her here, and from which she had embarked aboard the Earth shuttle sent to meet her. Out at the edge of the Solar System lay her feeling of security, her sense of safety, and her last chance to change her mind.

  She glanced around at her entourage. All seven acted as advisors, companions and bodyguards, yet she still felt exposed. She had been to many troubled planets, spreading the good news that was Reagold, and she had faced dangers in those travels, yet nothing had perturbed her the way this assignment on Earth did. Why? She had no answer. There was no basis for this feeling in logic. Reagold had assurances from both the Earth government and the Larnian Priesthood that her welcome would be warm and friendly, and yet the doubt remained.

  She thought back t
o how she had first found herself guided to this assignment, as she and the Director had lay naked, side by side in the flickering light from his grand fireplace, staring at the ornate ceiling.

  When the Director spoke, his voice was soft, little more than a whisper as he turned onto his side to face her.

  "You did well to give us a foothold on Earth."

  How can he talk business at a time like this, she thought, but she turned to look at him, smiled and said "Thank you, but I was only following instructions."

  "You carried them out flawlessly. I just hope the person who takes it to the next step can do as well."

  "The next step?"

  "Our representative on Earth, of course. A vital role, and one that, if carried off well, would mean a lot to Reagold."

  Translate that as a promotion and increased benefits, plus future perks no doubt. No executive would turn down such a chance.

  Tina traced a slow meandering line with her fingers over the Director's chest, down his stomach, along his thigh.

  "You need someone with prior experience of the situation," she said, smiling and leaning forward to kiss him.

  At the time she had thought she was doing the manipulating. Now she saw how she had, herself, been manipulated.

  "We'll be landing soon Miss Harrison. Is there anything you'd like to go over before we meet the Earth people?"

  For a moment she was not sure who had spoken, then she identified a young man called, she believed, Roland. A member of her entourage. She cleared her throat and her mind of memories.

  "No, thank you Roland. I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

  The reception hall was ornate in design, grand in size. It was narrow, its immense length giving the impression of a tunnel, and the ceiling arched so high the topmost designs were barely visible with the naked eye.

  A glorified corridor, thought the Controller, sitting at the far end away from the entrance. Too narrow. Too high.

  His chair had been fashioned from the remains of a throne once used by the ancient kings and queens of the country that was now his palace. Systems had been built into the chair to provide security in case of attack, and communication capability with the palace's computers. He had once asked the leader of the design team for a more detailed description of what had been added to the chair only to receive the answer "devices".