war.’
Saul groaned. ‘What the hell are you talking about? What war?’
Narendra stared at him in disbelief. ‘You help to maintain an unjust system, and we oppose it. We should be able to build our own wormhole networks, to find our own star systems to colonize, as and when we please, instead of having to route all our traffic through Copernicus. And now you are sending in your military to crush us without mercy.’ He gestured at Eren. ‘
Something clicked inside Saul’s head. ‘That’s because you already believed me, isn’t it? You know I had nothing to do with your brother’s death.’
Narendra’s nostrils flared. ‘I believe there are reasonable grounds for doubt. But believing you carries a price, because it means placing my trust in you. If that proves to be a mistake on my part, Eren will kill me as soon as he has finished disposing of you.’
‘Then, if you don’t think I killed Farad, what is it you need from me?’
‘I want you to tell me just how you came into possession of the encrypted database we found stored in your contacts.’
Saul’s shoulders sagged in defeat. ‘I found it when I went looking for Jeff Cairns back on Earth. I figured I might be able to dig up some clue as to where he’d gone, but there was no way to break the encryption on the files.’
‘And Jeff Cairns worked with my brother, an expert in such matters. This is another reason you are still alive,’ Narendra explained. ‘If your intention was to kill him, it makes no sense that you would bring with you the very same information he died helping to steal.’
‘And . . . you’ve cracked the files?’
‘We did, yes.’ Narendra nodded. ‘But what we discovered is . . . troubling.’
Narendra said something to Eren – and Saul gasped as a bag was once more pulled over his head.
‘I would rather you didn’t see just where we’re going,’ he heard Narendra say, as Eren lifted Saul back up on to his feet. ‘But it’s not far.’
Saul stumbled along blindly, one man pushing him from behind while the other led him with a firm grip on his upper arm. When they next came to a stop, Saul felt the floor suddenly lurch beneath him, and guessed they had boarded an elevator. As they emerged once more, he felt a breeze blowing through the narrow slit just above his mouth.
‘We’re going to put you in the boot of a car,’ he heard Narendra say. ‘Do not struggle.’
Two pairs of hands bundled him into a cramped space, then he heard the car’s boot lock click into place just an inch above his head. A moment later he felt the vehicle accelerate.
No more than ten minutes passed before the car came to an abrupt halt, and soon the boot clicked open once more. Hands reached in and pulled him out, and once more he was led through a series of twists and turns. When they finally tore the bag from his head, Saul blinked under flickering strip lights that illuminated a narrow corridor with peeling, whitewashed walls, and a stairwell at the far end.
They led him to a door, on which Narendra continued rapping until it swung open, revealing a surly-looking man in his early twenties. He wore faded work clothes and held an Agnessa submachine gun close to his chest. He nodded to Narendra and Eren, but spared Saul only a brief, contemptuous glare, before leading the three of them into what appeared to be someone’s living room. A TriView sat in one corner, while a couch and armchair were positioned on a thick, patterned carpet. The room smelled of a mixture of mint and cigarettes.
‘Where are we?’ Saul asked.
‘This was Farad’s apartment,’ said Narendra. He gestured to Eren, who merely nodded and collapsed into the armchair, placing the shotgun across his knees.
Narendra beckoned to Saul to follow him into what had clearly been Maalouf’s office, where a second TriView was mounted on the wall. Narendra left the door open, and Saul, glancing back towards the living room, saw that Eren could easily keep an eye on them from where he was sitting.
Narendra activated the TriView. ‘The database contains many video sequences we are still struggling to comprehend,’ he explained as he turned back towards Saul. ‘We want to know what they mean.’
‘You’re buried in shit right up to your neck, I think,’ Saul muttered under his breath.
‘I am a businessman, not a revolutionary,’ Narendra responded
Saul found himself watching several figures in bulky spacesuits making their way across what appeared to be a bridge that was illuminated by rows of lights. Tinny-sounding voices crackled with static, and a notice flashed up, warning them this recording was classified. To Saul, it all looked very flat and artificial, without the aid of his contacts.
The footage was raw and clearly unedited, and appeared to have been recorded through some kind of suit- mounted camera rather than through anyone’s contacts. The view shifted suddenly, as whoever was recording these images glanced up. Saul noticed that the bridge led into a passageway entrance in the side of a building of monumental proportions. An angled wall rose up and up above brbefore disappearing into a sky so black and empty that something about it sent a chill all the way through him.
The suited figures began talking amongst each other about low-pressure zones and high-gravity areas, and of Founders and artefacts. At one point, Farad Maalouf’s face, pale and nervous-looking, became visible through the smeared glass of a suit helmet.
The scene changed abruptly to what appeared to be the deck of a cruise liner, or a ferry, moving through heavy weather, with dark grey clouds scudding low over a stormy sea. Something huge grew out of the water directly ahead, almost incomprehensibly large – obviously one of the alien growths currently dominating the headlines. Enormous leaves were intermittently visible through the cloud cover.
The view then blurred as whoever was making the recording – through contacts, this time – made a sudden movement. There was a brief glimpse of a woman’s face and then the scene changed again, as abruptly as before,
