Internal Security and whiphound training, the gruff-voiced Gaffney had always treated Thalia with impeccable fairness, even encouragement. She now perceived him as her only unambiguous ally in the room. It would have been different if Dreyfus or Jane Aumonier had been present, but Dreyfus was absent (his Pangolin clearance would have allowed him to sit in on the meeting even though he wasn’t a senior) and the position where the supreme prefect normally manifested — beamed into the room as a projection — was conspicuously empty. On her way to the room, Thalia had picked up rumours that some other crisis was brewing, something unrelated to the lockdown they’d recently performed.
The other seniors were neither on her side nor against her. Michael Crissel was a gentle-looking man with scholarly features and a diffident manner. By all accounts he’d been an excellent field prefect once, but he’d spent most of the last twenty years inside Panoply, becoming detached from the hard reality of duty outside. Lillian Baudry’s field career had come to an end when she was blown apart by a malfunctioning whiphound. They’d put her back together again, but her nervous system had never been the same. She could have surrendered herself to the medical expertise available elsewhere in the Glitter Band, but the security implications of receiving outside treatment would have meant her leaving Panoply for good. So she’d chosen duty over well-being, even though that meant sitting in meetings like a stiffly posed china doll.
It was a measure of the importance attached to Thalia’s report that only four seniors were present. Normally at least six or seven of the ten permanent seniors would have been in attendance, but today there were more than the usual number of empty places around the table. Yes, they wanted this affair tied up as quickly as possible — but that didn’t mean they saw it as anything other than a blip in Panoply’s schedule of business.
‘Let’s cut to the chase,’ Clearmountain said. ‘We’ve got the packages. They confirm our existing suspicions, which is that Perigal had her hands in the pie. The lockdown can hold. Now all we need to do is seal the leak before someone else exploits it the same way.’
‘I agree, sir,’ Thalia said.
‘Exactly how much damage did these polling violations cause?’ asked Baudry.
‘In the scheme of things, nothing major,’ Thalia answered. ‘They were all polls on relatively minor issues. Caitlin Perigal might have wanted to tip the balance in more significant polls, but discovery would have been even more likely if she’d tried. Frankly, with the amount of oversight and scrutiny we already have in place whenever something big comes up, I can’t imagine anyone managing to bias the votes to a statistically useful degree.’
‘It’s your
‘She knows that,’ Gaffney said in a whisper.
Thalia acknowledged Crissel. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I just mean — given everything we know — it’s unlikely. The system can’t ever be proven to be inviolable; Godel’s Incompleteness Theorem—’
‘I don’t need to be lectured on Godel, Ng,’ Crissel said tersely.
‘What I mean, sir, is that the system tests itself through being used. House Perigal has actually done us a favour. Now we’re aware of a logical flaw we hadn’t seen before: one that permits a tiny bias in the polls. We’ll fix that and move on. Somewhere down the line, someone else will get creative and find another loophole. We’ll fix that as well. That’s the process.’
‘So you’re confident we can plug this hole?’ Baudry asked.
‘Absolutely, Senior. It’s trivial.’
‘If it’s “trivial”, how did we miss it until now?’
‘Because we introduced it,’ Thalia said, trying not to sound too full of herself. ‘We plugged one hole — thinking we were being clever — and inadvertently opened another. The fault was deep in our error-handling routine. It was designed to stop valid votes being lost, but it accidentally allowed additional votes to be registered fraudulently.’
‘Probably not the first time in history that’s happened,’ Crissel said dryly.
Thalia laced her hands together on the table, trying to strike the right note between defensiveness and professional detachment. ‘It was regrettable. But to date only a handful of habitats have exploited the loophole.’
‘Regrettable?’ Clearmountain said. ‘I call it reprehensible.’
‘Sir, the existing error-handling routine already ran to twenty-two million lines of code, including some subroutines written more than two hundred and twenty years ago, in the First System. Those programmers weren’t even speaking modern Canasian. Reading their documentation is like… well, deciphering Sanskrit or something.’
‘Ng’s right,’ Gaffney said. ‘They did the best they could. And the secondary loophole was subtle enough that only five habitats in ten thousand ever attempted to exploit it. I think we can put this one down to experience and move on.’
‘Provided, of course, we have a reliable fix,’ Baudry said. She nodded stiffly at Thalia. ‘You did say it would be a simple matter?’
‘For once, yes. The correction isn’t anything like as complicated as the alteration that introduced the fault in the first place. Just a few thousand lines that need changing. Having said that, I’d still like to run the first few installations manually, just to iron out any unanticipated issues due to different core architectures. Once I’m satisfied, we can go live across the entire ten thousand.’
Gaffney looked sharply at Thalia. ‘It’s clear that we need to get this whole mess tidied up as quickly as possible. By the time the Perigal lockdown becomes binding — as I have no doubt it will — I want us ready to begin implementing the upgrade. The special evidential board has access to the summary packages?’
‘Since this morning, sir.’
Gaffney took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the perspiration glistening on his forehead. ‘On past form we can expect their decision within ten days. Can you match that?’
‘We could go live in two, sir, if you demanded it. I’m confident that the tests won’t throw up any anomalies.’
‘We were confident last time,’ Gaffney reminded her. ‘Let’s not make the same mistake twice.’
‘We won’t,’ she said.
Dreyfus took in the scene of the crime from the vantage point of a Panoply cutter. It would have been quick, he reflected, but perhaps not fast enough to be either painless or merciful. The habitat was a corpse now, gutted of pressure. When whatever gouged that wound had touched the atmosphere inside the shell, it would have caused it to expand in a scalding ball of superheated air and steam. There’d have been no time to reach shuttles, escape pods or even armoured security vaults. But there’d have been time to realise what was happening. Most people in the Glitter Band didn’t expect to die, let alone in fear and agony.
‘This isn’t looking good,’ Sparver said. ‘Still want to go in, before forensics catch up with us?’
‘We may still be able to get something from hardened data cores,’ Dreyfus answered, with gloomy resignation. He wasn’t even confident about the cores.
‘What kind of weapon did this?’
‘I don’t think it was a weapon.’
‘That doesn’t look like any kind of impact damage to me. There’s scorching, suggesting some kind of directed energy source. Could the Conjoiners have dug out something that nasty? Everyone says they have a few big guns tucked away somewhere.’
Dreyfus shook his head. ‘If the Spiders wanted to pick a fight with an isolated habitat, they’d have made a cleaner job of it.’
‘All the same—’
‘Jane has a shrewd idea of what did this. She just isn’t happy about the implications.’
Dreyfus and Sparver passed through the cutter’s suitwall into vacuum, and then through a chain of old- fashioned but still functional airlocks. The locks fed them into a series of successively larger reception chambers, all of which were now dark and depressurised. The chambers were full of slowly wheeling debris clouds, little of which Dreyfus was able to identify. The internal map on his facepatch was based on the data Ruskin-Sartorious had volunteered during the last census. The polling core — which was likely to be where any beta-levels had been
