Elite

by Allen Stroud

  Bertrum smiled. ‘Sark,’ he said. ‘We’re paying Prefect Brunan a visit.’

  The sled hummed into life and detached itself from the underwater docking cradle. Bertrum sat down as the vehicle began to ease away. An official visit to the prefect of Kadia would have been complicated at short notice. Bertrum might have called or requested a projection meeting, but that way every detail would be recorded and analysed. He was tired of staying in the bubble and wanted a chance to assess the man’s answers for himself.

  Besides, gives the spy in my office some work to do, he thought and smiled.

  * * *

  ‘I’m afraid you overestimated the purpose of our mission, we aren’t here to start wars.’

  Admiral Jander watched the ambassador’s face intently, but her smile never wavered. If she was disappointed in his reply, she didn’t show it.

  ‘Come now,’ Godwina chided. ‘As I said, an Alliance battle group is far more military support than a mining corporation requires in this sector. You have other reasons for being here and I can guess what they are.’

  Jander frowned. ‘Our capacity and remit is not for discussion.’

  ‘Oh, but it is, Admiral, otherwise you wouldn’t have accepted my invitation,’ Godwina’s smile widened. ‘Alliance policy for the last six decades has been to increase the number of signatories to the charter. The Old Worlds are far from Alioth, Olgrea and the others. You mean to establish a new political enclave and if that’s your plan, your efforts are wasted in an insignificant system like Quator. Your mineral assessment surveys told you that already.’

  ‘I see little gain for you if any systems did sign up,’ Jander said.

  Godwina shrugged. ‘Personally, I’m not interested in your morals on slavery, but if you mean a gain for the Empire? No. Alliance signatories here would be seen as a threat.’

  ‘Then why are you proposing the idea?’ Jander asked.

  ‘The slumbering giant of Lave needs waking,’ Godwina said. ‘I am not prepared to die waiting. With revolution comes interest and opportunity for me within the Empire and for you within the Alliance.’

  ‘You’re playing with people’s lives,’ Ennis warned.

  Godwina looked at him and smiled again. ‘You are military men, you play with lives everyday.’

  Jander read the signs of Ennis’ temper and glared at him until he sighed and sat back. ‘Your persuasive words aren’t enough to make me commit to something so dangerous, Ambassador.’

  ‘Perhaps you are nervous owing to the gathering fleet?’ Godwina suggested.

  ‘We’re aware of the number of ships in that system,’ Jander said.

  ‘Well, be thankful for my assistance. The majority of vessels detected by your scans will be travelling to Diso shortly. You can be assured, most aren’t a threat. Walden’s government made a variety of trade deals with Achenar, Earth, Mars and even Alioth. Orange Star is a front company for their investments, which are mostly agricultural purchases from the surrounding systems.’

  Jander frowned. ‘Why Alioth? A freight transport run that far can’t be profitable.’

  Godwina nodded. ‘I agree, I have yet to work out the reason, but I’m sure one exists. A web of bribery and deceit across the cosmos, the Good Doctor does not make such investments lightly.’

  ‘What proof do we have these are haulers?’ Ennis asked.

  ‘You have my word,’ Godwina replied, ‘plus database identification of the vessels. This ship remained in the system for a number of years and collated scans of any craft in close proximity. Many of the vessels around Lave are antiquated and may not be in your archives.’

  ‘I’ll want to verify that myself,’ Jander said.

  Godwina waved her hand. ‘I have active data records of my time on Lave. I will transmit this information and work with you. Let your analysts go over my files and make their recommendations.’

  ‘What do you want in return for this?’

  ‘Nothing as yet, we can discuss something appropriate later.’

  Jander scratched his head. ‘Okay, thank you. The facilities on the Furnace are available to you should you want to visit.’

  Godwina laughed. ‘Thank you, but no, I doubt there is anything of interest for me in your museum, unless you come around to my way of thinking.’

  * * *

  ‘Approaching Sark.’

  ‘Thank you, Niamh.’

  Carefully, Bertrum stood up in the sea sled and pulled out his magnified viewers. As well as being Brunan’s home, Sark was a large island and was an administration centre for the Kadian prefectorate. With a population of just over ten thousand, it was one of the biggest inhabited settlements. The bureaucracy in the region was much more diffuse than Firstfall, reflecting the scattered settlements along the island chain. As a result, people were laid back and content with their lot, an attitude Berturm had hated as a youth.

  Sark Tower emerged from the mist. The slender metal spire would have been anonymous in Ashoria, but on the Eastern Ocean, it dominated the sky; below, a huge landing platform, capable of welcoming shuttles and larger interplanetary liners. Kadian destinations formed the majority of features in most corporate holiday guides and were the basis of the region’s income. Locations were strictly controlled, a process made easy by the geography.

  The sled began to circle the island towards the main port. ‘Niamh, submit a communication request to Karsian’s official channel,’ Bertrum instructed. ‘Use my business ident.’

  ‘Acknowledged.’ There was a few moments pause as the computer contacted the Kadian prefect’s aide. Bertrum gazed out over the ocean into the distance. He tried to think back to the last time he’d been truly on his own. His personal office was only divided from others by a thin wall, with constant surveillance and constant recording. Out on the sea, he was a long way from Ashoria and the continual need to be cautious in everything he was doing. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. What would it be like if things were always like this? I wonder if—

  ‘Contact unsuccessful,’ Niamh announced. ‘The prefect is not in his office.’

  Bertrum frowned. Then, where is he? ‘Get authorisation for docking on his private estate,’ he ordered. ‘We’ll put in there.’

  ‘Yes Prefect.’

  * * *

  ‘The DNA’s been artificially spliced, but we can’t determine the origin of the resequencing.’

  ‘What about the carriers?’

  ‘Both recovering fine.’

  ‘Good, well done James, keep me posted.’

  Gebrial opened her eyes.

  She was on a bed in a tent lit with artificial light, the fluorescent bulbs swung on electric cables in response to a faint breeze outside, the air strangely hot. She sat up. Her head no longer throbbed and she could feel no other trace of her illness. ‘I’m ... alive?’ she realised out loud.

  ‘Yes, you are, for now,’ said a young voice. She turned around. A boy, a few years younger than her sat in a chair in the corner, a computer screen in front of him. In a window there was a person’s face, but it vanished as she noticed. ‘Your illness and recovery is only part of the mystery,’ he said.

  Gebrial realised she’d been undressed and was wearing a light surgical gown. She snatched up the blanket and held over herself. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  ‘My name is James Gibson,’ the boy said and smiled. ‘You needn’t worry, you’re safe here.’

  ‘Safe from who?’

  ‘Everyone,’ James said, ‘or rather, anyone who’d want to hurt you. Now we’ve got the virus under control, you’ll be fine.’ He walked over to the bed and touched her forehead lightly with his fingers. ‘Yep, no fever, we’ll need to keep injecting you for a short time, but you’re recovering well.’

  ‘How did I catch it?’ Gebrial asked.

  ‘Not sure yet, but we’ll find out.’

  ‘I heard you mention someone else? Is Renner all right?’

  ‘He’s fine and wasn’t ill, your other friend, Devander, w
e got to him in time as well. He’s next door.’

  ‘Can I see him?’

  ‘Of course, come with me.’

  Cautiously, Gebrial stepped down onto the cold metal tiles and followed the boy out of the tent. Outside, the sun was setting, but it was still hot, hotter than she’d remembered it on this world. She wondered if a last trace of the fever was affecting her senses. They were in a crater, walls of rock around a flat stone plateau. The tiles continued, forming pathways between the structures. Either side, wet boggy mud occasionally bubbled and spat. ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

  ‘Specifically, I can’t tell you,’ James said. ‘This is a volcanic crater, ruins our instruments, but no better place to hide a heat signature.’

  Gebrial counted four other tents, each a dark shadow in the fading light. She pointed at them. ‘Couldn’t they catch fire?’

  ‘Treated fabric,’ James said. ‘They’ll be fine and we can pack up fast if we need to.’

  ‘How many days have I been unconscious?’ Gebrial asked.

  ‘Hours not days,’ James replied. ‘You wouldn’t have lasted days.’

  He lifted the canvas and Gebrial walked into an identical space to the one she’d left, but Pietro lay on the bed, his hands and feet were strapped down, but otherwise he looked relaxed and untroubled. An uncomplicated face, the kind you wouldn’t pick out of a crowd or remember meeting in a group. She moved to his side. He was still out cold. ‘Is he—’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ James said. ‘We just got to him later. He’s not as young as you, so his body will respond a little slower, but every sign is good.’

  Gebrial stared at him. ‘How come you’re doing this? You can’t be a doctor.’

  James frowned. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you’re too young.’

  James smiled. ‘You’re right. I’m too young to be a doctor. We don’t have a doctor here, but I did save your life.’

  ‘For what reason?’ Gebrial asked.

  ‘Perhaps I’m just nice,’ James said and sighed, ‘but no, you’re right. They want something from you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll take you to Renner and Pasion then you can find out for yourself.’

  * * *

  ‘Well Prefect Kowl, this is an unexpected pleasure, what can I do for you?’

  Karsian Brunan, prefect of Kadia smiled broadly and held out his right hand, offering the universal human gesture. Bertrum took it, but didn’t return the smile. ‘I tried to raise you on comms, you weren’t at the office,’ he said.

  ‘No, I’d already left, the same as you I’d guess?’

  ‘Yes, I decided to take an afternoon off.’

  They walked together along Karsian’s private jetty towards his home, a duraglass orb. The lights inside gradually brightening as the sunlight faded. Bertrum had never been to the house, he could see into all the rooms from the outside. ‘Must make privacy difficult,’ he said.

  Karsian laughed ‘Where can you find privacy on Lave?’ he replied. ‘Come in, I’ll give you the tour.’

  ‘No thanks,’ Bertrum said. ‘Just point me somewhere to sit and talk.’

  Karsian’s smiled disappeared. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘this way.’

  Barely visible doors slid away in front of them and Karsian led him up two flights of stairs. Bertrum followed, conscious of the faint click and whirr of his mechanical exoskeleton. Stairs were never something he used by choice.

  The top floor of the orb was an expansive single room, plainly a working environment, judging by the hanging viewscreens that came down from the ceiling on articulated arms. Otherwise the space was minimally furnished, with a couch and chair. The floor was also made of glass, meaning Bertrum was looking down on every other location in the house, a vision of vertigo-inducing beauty. ‘How can you live like this?’ he asked.

  ‘You get used to it,’ Karsian said. ‘How’s your wife?’

  ‘Not the reason I’m here,’ Bertrum replied. He moved stiffly to the couch. He felt the cushion mould and adapt to his posture as he sat down. The furniture blocked the majority of the stomach-churning view. ‘We need to talk about the account discrepancies I mentioned to you.’

  Karsian raised his eyebrows. ‘Whilst I’m delighted you’re here, I’m sure we should be discussing the matter by viewer.’

  ‘I think it’s better in person,’ Bertrum said. ‘We must discuss the power output shortfalls.’

  Karsian frowned. ‘Everything we say is recorded, why would meeting make a difference?’

  ‘Nevertheless.’

  Karsian took a seat in a chair opposite. ‘I get where this is going,’ he said. ‘You think I have something to do with this conspiracy you mentioned in council?’

  ‘If I believed every accounting discrepancy I’ve uncovered was related to that, I would be making a lot of trips,’ Bertrum replied. ‘You know as well as I do, I have no authority here.’

  ‘But you would make my life difficult by reporting your findings.’

  ‘Just as you would make mine uncomfortable as a resident in this region,’ Bertrum said. ‘I’m also acutely aware that our previous conversation on this matter was by viewscreen and is therefore recorded and archived in your office records as well as mine.’

  Karsian leaned back in the chair. ‘Ask any question you want. I have nothing to hide.’

  I doubt that, Bertrum thought, but shrugged instead, keeping his expression neutral. ‘This is not really a matter of questions, more that the issue of power discrepancies will come up when our colleagues begin a similar process of going over the ledgers. You and I need to agree an explanation.’

  ‘And this is why you decided to visit?’

  ‘One reason, yes.’

  Karsian sighed. ‘Power management is a difficult thing across a thirty million square kilometre inhabited region comprising thousands of little kingdoms. Every man or woman living on these islands believes themselves a master of their own domain.’ Just for a moment, the prefect’s affable demeanour started to slip. ‘The entire territory covers one hundred and fifty million square kilometres. I think the Good Doctor gets an excellent return on his investment in my administration.’

  ‘Is there a rebellion based in the islands?’ Bertrum asked.

  Karsian laughed. ‘The majority of the population are Interstellar, fat cats living off the propaganda sold to the masses. Some of them might dream of going back into space, reclaiming their birthright, but why bother leaving when everything you need is right here?’

  ‘I did,’ Bertrum said.

  ‘You don’t fit the mould. So what?’ Karsian said, ‘Neither do I. Who’d want to run this place?’

  ‘The point is, could there be others?’ Bertrum said. ‘Are people orchestrating this?’

  ‘Of course,’ Karsian said. ‘But likely? No. Who stands to gain from a rebellion? Not the people on these islands living in prosperity. You’d be better asking yourself that question first, before you construct a theory.’

  ‘I’m not ruling anything out,’ Bertrum said.

  ‘Well, if I were you, I’d start in the workhouses of Neudaal or the outer territories of Ardu. We both know all sorts of unauthorised settlements out there.’

  Bertrum nodded. ‘The power situation then, what do you suggest?’

  Karsian shrugged. ‘We can be honest. We’re unable to meet the quota and you’ve agreed to support us. It’s on record, no point in saying anything else.’

  Chapter 25: The Rebel

  For the second time that day, Gebrial felt she was interrupting a conversation, but on this occasion, voices were raised and tempers on edge.

  She walked into another tent. Inside, open crates and metal shelves were full of all sorts of equipment. She saw guns, backpacks, water bottles and ration kits.

  In the middle of the space she noted an assortment of chairs. Renner stood over Pasion, his face flushed and fists clenched. By contrast the older man remained seated. ‘If you reject this, we will be stuck
here for another hundred years!’ Renner shouted.

  Pasion held his gaze and stayed calm. ‘We will not accept a deal that doesn’t resolve the issues important to my people. I will not swap one dictator for another.’

  ‘Anything is better than this!’

  ‘Nothing justifies an oppressive regime,’ Pasion said firmly then turned around to look at Gebrial, his lips quirked into a thin smile. ‘Welcome back, young lady.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Gebrial said.

  ‘Hopefully James made you comfortable?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Well, we’re pleased you’ve recovered,’ Pasion’s eyes strayed to James. ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘Nothing,’ James replied. ‘Best you do the talking.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Pasion stood up and walked over to Gebrial, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. ‘We need your help.’

  Gebrial shrugged off the contact. ‘What were you arguing about?’ she asked.

  Pasion’s smile became strained. ‘Nothing of concern,’ he said. ‘A lot must happen before such matters become relevant.’

  ‘If you want my help, you’ll need to be straight with me,’ Gebrial said. ‘I can’t join a cause if I don’t understand what I’m fighting for.’

  Renner laughed. ‘You think you have options?’ he asked. ‘Got some other places you need to be?’

  Gebrial’s face coloured and she was glad for the dark of the tent. ‘I don’t have to help you.’

  ‘No, quite right, you don’t,’ Pasion soothed. ‘At your age, I was digging coal out of the ground with my hands and begging on street corners.’

  ‘Big deal,’ Gebrial said. ‘I had worse on Solati Station, living like a rat.’

  ‘Did you?’ Pasion said. ‘We can compare hardship stories all day if you want? When I got old enough, my family sold me to a trader. I spent thirty-five years as a slave on Riedquat. People from Lave disappear all the time and end up in the markets. My master died and I escaped with enough money to conceal my identity and get back here.’ He stepped away from her and glanced at Renner and James. ‘The point is, I don’t want your pity. I must make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else. No one should live like that.’