centuries. And there was always a chance negotiating with the rebels would put an end to the war a damn sight quicker than a ruthless program of genocide. They weren't asking that much. But Half A Man saw this as a matter of principle. And authority. He could be very single-minded for someone who no longer had a single mind, and he wouldn't even discuss the argument.
Toby's fingers moved quickly over the console keys, calling up quick shots of the three Investigators Half A Man had brought with him. Half A Man had refused point-blank to allow them to be interviewed, but Flynn had sneaked some footage anyway. Edge looked like a psycho killer who'd just had his favorite cutthroat razor stolen. Barr looked like a machine just waiting for orders. And Shoal… looked like she'd seen it all before and hadn't been impressed the first time. They all looked very dangerous, completely unswerving, and entirely professional at what they did. Poor rebel bastards didn't know what was going to hit them.
That was when the control-room door burst open, and Daniel Wolfe strode in, only to come to a sudden halt as he discovered how little room there was. It rather spoiled the effect of his dramatic entrance. He scowled at Toby as the reporter turned unhurriedly around in his swivel chair. Daniel leaned forward menacingly, and Toby just happened to blow cigar smoke in his face. Daniel coughed despite himself and did his best to tower over Toby.
'Listen to me, worm. I want to see every inch of your tape before it's broadcast. This is a Wolfe complex, and we decide what leaves here and what doesn't. You even try and sneak something past me, and I'll have security throw you in the cells and have your superiors send a replacement who understands how the universe works. You'll like the cells. On a good day you can look through the bars in your window and see the wall we put traitors against before we shoot them. And out here, we decide who the traitors are. So make the Wolfes look good. Make the factory look good. If you know what's good for you. Little man.'
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Toby lifted the bottle of whiskey, toasted the closed door with it, and drank straight from the bottle. He'd been expecting pressure, but nothing quite so blatant. Bloody Daniel Wolfe and his ambitious superbitch sister. She was the one behind the threats. Daniel didn't have it in him to come up with a speech like that on its own. Stephanie probably wrote it out and made him memorize it. Typical Wolfes. Thugs with pedigrees. A thought occurred to him, and he smiled nastily around his cigar.
He turned back to the mixing console, and it took only a few moments' searching to call up the footage he had in mind. He ran the shots in slow motion. Daniel and Stephanie together. Michel and Lily together. Smiles and glances and shared body space. Everyone with an eye in their head knew Michel and Lily were having it off. They'd been very careful not to say or do anything incriminating in public, but you only had to look at their body language to see the truth of how they felt about each other. The way their eyes sparkled when they met, the way their bodies oriented on each other no matter where they were in the room, the way certain words and phrases were subtly, unconsciously emphasized. He had it all on tape. They might as well have taken out peak time ads.
Of course, Daniel and Stephanie hadn't noticed a thing, being rather more interested in each other. In fact, some of their quieter moments seemed to suggest that they might be a little closer in their affections than most brothers and sisters. Toby sniggered and beat a fast tattoo on the edge of the console with both hands. He couldn't say anything outright, of course, but a little carefully arranged footage should do the job for him, with both couples. People in society would catch up on it and start the word spreading. Before too long the Wolfes would become a laughingstock, in and out of Court. That would teach Daniel bloody Wolfe to burst in and act the heavy with poor little Toby Shreck.
And that was when the door burst open again, and Cardinal James Kassar had his try at making a dramatic entrance ruined by crashing straight into the chair that Toby had thoughtfully placed before the door after the last visit. Kassar kicked the chair aside and glared at Toby, who leaned back in his chair and gave the Cardinal his best innocent face. It didn't fool Kassar for a moment, but then it wasn't meant to.
'I've had a communication from my superiors in the Church,' said Kassar, the cold controlled anger in his voice more than matched by the open fury in his ruined face. 'The gist of which was, your live broadcast made both myself and the Church look ridiculous, because you didn't wait for me to get there. They went on for some time, but they were basically just repeating themselves. The word 'laughingstock' was mentioned, along with 'recall' and 'demotion.' Listen carefully, you little toad, you are not going to ruin my career while furthering your own. From now on I see everything you've got before it goes out, and if you do anything that might undermine my or the Church's authority here, I will personally excommunicate you with a rusty saw. Is that clear?'
'Oh, perfectly,' said Toby. 'Couldn't be clearer.' He took a quick drink from his bottle. 'I would offer you some whiskey, Cardinal, but I've only got the one bottle. I feel I should at this stage in all honesty point out that I do have principles.'
'Mess with me again, and your principles will be going home in separate jars.'
Kassar about-faced and marched out with extreme dignity, slamming the door behind him. Toby waited a cautious few seconds, and then gave the closed door the finger before getting up and jamming two small wedges under the bottom of the door. That should put an end to any more storming ins. He turned back to the console and leaned over the screens again. He knew just the bit of tape he wanted. A nice stretch of Cardinal Kassar drilling his Church troops in the blistering summer heat; standing at his ease in the shade while shouting and bullying and generally carrying on like the tight-assed little dictator he was. Toby grinned and bit down hard on his cigar. He wouldn't even have to sneak this past Kassar. The damn fool was so full of himself he'd probably think it made him look good.
Toby took another drink from his bottle and then put it firmly to one side. The uppers were rocketing through his system like ricocheting bullets, and he felt great. He called up some footage of the trenches surrounding the factory. The circles of hell from which no man returned unchanged. Patch in some shots of the elite Jesuit commandos drilling the fanatical Church troops, and then cut back to the wounded in the hospital tent. Toby rocked back and forth in his chair. Someone was banging on the door. The wedges would keep them out. Toby's fingers flowed over the keyboard. He was on a roll now. If the Wolfes and the Cardinal and all the other bastards thought they could keep him from filing the story of his life, they were crazy. They could view the tape as often as they liked; it wouldn't make any difference. They'd probably never even heard of the palimpsest method. Record something on a tape, then record over it. Playback just shows the upper recording, but the right kind of machine will pick up the earlier recording, still there, underneath. The process hadn't been around long, but Toby had always believed in being up to the minute. There'd be a stink afterward, but interest in Technos III would be so high the Wolfes wouldn't be able to censor him anymore. Toby Shreck laughed aloud and worked on into the early hours of the morning.
A handful of Rejects led Jack Random, Alexander Storm, and Ruby Journey down through a series of dimly lit corridors and tunnels, far below the surface of Technos III. The tunnels grew increasingly narrow, sometimes barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast. The walls were smooth in some places, where they'd been blasted out of the living rock by energy weapons, and torn and jagged in others, where tools and bare hands had done the work. Random tried very hard not to think about the increasing weight of rock above his head. As the professional rebel, he'd spent his share of time working from hidden underground caverns and tunnels, away from prying eyes and sensors, but he'd never learned to like it.
The tunnels twisted and turned and branched endlessly, a dark maze of such complexity that any outsider would be helplessly lost in a few minutes. Random had no doubt that was deliberate. The Rejects didn't trust anyone with their secrets all at once, not even him. He'd have been disappointed in them if they had. As always, he knew exactly where he was, but he didn't like to tell them and spoil their fun. So he strode along quite happily. Ruby at his side, Storm puffing along behind him. Random was getting a little worried about Storm. His old friend had been in the field with him for many years, fighting the Empire's best on more planets than either of them cared to remember. But they'd both known they were getting too old for it, even before they got their asses kicked so conclusively on Cold Rock. Since then, Random had been given a new lease of life, courtesy of the Maze, and reveled in it, but Storm had been left behind, still growing older and slower. He hadn't taken the growing differences between him and Random at all well, but Random was at a loss what to do about it. Storm was doing good and valued work as an adviser and strategist, but it wasn't the same, and both of them knew it. So when Storm had insisted on coming along on this particular mission, just to stretch his legs, Random hadn't had the heart to say no.
'How many miles of these tunnels are there?' said Storm, trying to keep the tiredness out of his voice and failing.
'No one knows for sure,' said Long Lankin 32. The ex-factory clone looked as thin and malnourished as ever. He found the going hard, too, but like Storm he refused to be left out of things, so the two of them had naturally
