compartments unlit as they glided up or down. There were a handful of people in only every fifth or sixth car. The empty cars were symptomatic of the bridge’s economic woes, but not a great problem in themselves. The expense of running them was tiny compared with the cost of the bridge; they had no impact on the schedule of the inhabited cars, and from a distance they looked as full as the others, conveying an illusion of busy prosperity which the bridge owners had long given up hoping would one day approach reality, since the Church had assumed tenancy. And the monsoon season may have given the illusion that the war was in its dog days, but plans were already drawn for the new season’s campaigns: the pushes and incursions already simulated in the battle-planners’ wargame computers.
A dizzyingly unsupported tongue of glass reached from the balcony to a point just short of the thread, leaving enough space for an elevator to arrive. Some passengers were already waiting on the tongue with their belongings, including a group of well-dressed aristocrats. But no Reivich, and no one in the party who resembled any of Reivich’s associates. They were talking amongst themselves or watching news reports on screens which floated around the chamber like square, narrow-bodied tropical fish, flickering with market reports and celebrity interviews.
Near the base of the tongue was a booth where elevator tickets were being sold; a bored-looking woman was behind the desk.
‘Wait here,’ I said to Dieterling.
The woman looked up at me as I approached the desk. She wore a crumpled Bridge Authority uniform and had purple crescents under her eyes, which were themselves bloodshot and swollen.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m a friend of Argent Reivich. I need to contact him urgently.’
‘I’m afraid that isn’t possible.’
It was no more than I was expecting. ‘When did he leave?’
Her voice was nasal; the consonants indistinct. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give out that information.’
I nodded shrewdly. ‘But you don’t deny that he passed through the terminal.’
‘I’m afraid I…’
‘Look, give it a rest, will you?’ I softened the remark with what I hoped was an accommodating smile. ‘Sorry, it wasn’t my intention to sound rude, but this happens to be very urgent. I have something for him, you see — a valuable Reivich family heirloom. Is there any way I can speak to him while he’s still ascending, or am I going to have to wait until he reaches orbit?’
The woman hesitated. Almost any information she divulged at this point would have contravened protocol — but I must have seemed so honest, so genuinely distressed by my friend’s omission. And so clearly rich.
She glanced down at a display. ‘You’ll be able to place a message for him to contact you when he arrives at the orbital terminus.’ Implying that he hadn’t yet arrived; that he was still somewhere above me, ascending the thread.
‘I think perhaps I’d better just follow him,’ I said. ‘That way, there’ll be the minimum of delay when he reaches orbit. I can just deliver the relevant item and return.’
‘I suppose that would make sense, yes.’ She looked at me, perhaps sensing something in my manner that was not as it should have been, but not trusting her own instincts sufficiently to obstruct my progress. ‘But you’ll have to hurry. The next departure’s almost ready for boarding.’
I looked back to the point where the tongue extended out to the thread, seeing an empty elevator slide up from the servicing area.
‘You’d better issue me with a ticket then.’
‘You’ll be needing a return, I presume?’ The woman rubbed at her eyes. ‘That’ll be five hundred and fifty Australs.’
I opened my wallet and pinched out the money, printed in crisp Southlander bills. ‘Scandalous,’ I said. ‘The amount of energy it actually costs the Bridge Authority to carry me to orbit, it should be a tenth the price. But I suppose some of that gets skimmed off by the Church of Sky.’
‘I’m not saying that doesn’t happen, but you shouldn’t speak ill of the Church, sir. Not here.’
‘No; that was what I heard. But you’re not one of them, are you?’
‘No,’ she said, handing me the change in smaller bills. ‘I just work here.’
The cultists had taken over the bridge a decade or so back, after they had convinced themselves that this place was where Sky had been crucified. They had stormed the place one evening before anyone realised quite what was happening. Haussmann’s followers claimed to have rigged the whole terminal with booby-trapped canisters primed with their virus, threatening to discharge them if there was any attempt at an eviction. The virus would carry far enough on the wind to infect half the Peninsula, if there was as much of it in the bridge as the cultists said. They might have been bluffing, but no one was prepared to take the risk of the cult forcing itself on millions of bystanders. So they held the bridge, and allowed the Bridge Authority to continue running it, even if it meant that the staff had to be constantly inoculated against any trace contamination. Given the side-effects of the anti-viral therapy, it obviously wasn’t the most popular work on the Peninsula — especially as it meant listening to the endless chanting of the cultists.
She handed me the ticket.
‘I hope I make it to orbit in time,’ I said.
‘The last elevator only left an hour ago. If your friend was on that one…’ She paused, and I knew there was no if about it. ‘The chances are very good that he’ll still be in the orbital terminal when you arrive.’
‘Let’s just hope he’s grateful, after all this.’
She almost smiled, then seemed to give up halfway through. It was a lot of effort, after all.
‘I’m sure he’ll be blown away.’
I pocketed the ticket, thanked the woman — miserable as she was, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her having to work here — and then walked back to Dieterling. He was leaning on the low glass wall that surrounded the connecting tongue, looking down at the cultists. His expression was one of detached, watchful calm. I thought back to the time in the jungle when he had saved my life, during the hamadryad attack. He had worn the same neutral expression then: like a man engaged in a chess match against a completely outclassed opponent.
‘Well?’ he mouthed, when we were within earshot.
‘He’s already taken an elevator.’
‘When?’
‘About an hour ago. I’ve just bought a ticket for myself. Go and buy one as well, but don’t act as if we’re travelling together.’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t come with you, bro.’
‘You’ll be safe.’ I lowered my voice. ‘There won’t be any emigration checkpoints between here and the exit from the orbital terminal. You can ride up and down without getting arrested.’
‘Easy for you to say, Tanner.’
‘Yes, but still I’m telling you it’ll be safe.’
Dieterling shook his head. ‘Maybe it will be, but it still doesn’t make much sense for us to travel together; even in the same elevator. There’s no guessing how well Reivich has this place under surveillance.’
I was about to argue, but part of me knew that what he said was right. Like Cahuella, Dieterling couldn’t safely leave the surface of Sky’s Edge without running the risk of being arrested on war crimes charges. They were both listed in systemwide databases and — save for the fact that Cahuella was dead — they both had hefty bounties on their heads.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘I suppose there’s another reason for you to stay. I’ll be away from the Reptile House for some time now: three days at the very least. There should be someone competent looking after things back home.’
‘Are you certain you can handle Reivich on your own?’
I shrugged. ‘It takes only one shot, Miguel.’
‘And you’re the man to deliver it.’ He was visibly relieved. ‘Fine then; I’ll drive back to the Reptile House tonight. And I’ll be watching the newsfeeds avidly.’
‘I’ll try not to disappoint. Wish me well.’
‘I do.’ Dieterling reached out and shook my hand. ‘Be careful, Tanner. Just because there’s no bounty on your head, it doesn’t mean you’ll be able to walk away without doing a little explaining first. I’ll leave it to you to
