Redemption Ark

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Have a seat, Mr Liu.’ Clock gestured at one of the chairs. ‘Please, take the weight off your feet. We need to have a little talk, you and me.’

‘I really need to get back to my monkeys.’

‘I’m sure they won’t get up to any mischief in your absence. Now.’ Clock gestured again and the pig looked up and fixed his gaze on Xavier. Xavier sunk down into the seat, weighing his options. ‘Concerning Miss Bax. Traffic records, freely available traffic records, indicate that her vessel is the one currently parked in the service bay, the one you are working on. You are aware of this, aren’t you?’

I might be.‘

‘Please, Mr Liu, there’s really no point in being evasive. The data we have amassed points to a very close working relationship between yourself and Miss Bax. You are perfectly aware that Storm Bird belongs to her. As a matter of fact, you know Storm Bird very well indeed, isn’t that true?’

‘What is this about?’

‘We’d like to have a little word with Miss Bax herself, if that isn’t too much trouble.’

‘I can’t help you there.’

Clock raised one fine, barely present eyebrow. ‘No?’

‘If you want to speak to her, you’ll have to find her yourselves.’

‘Very well. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but…’ Clock looked at the pig. The pig put down the brochure and stood up. He had the bulky presence of a gorilla. When he walked it seemed as if he was engaged in a balancing act that was always on the point of collapsing. The pig pushed past him, carrying the black box.

‘Where’s he going?’ Xavier asked.

‘To her ship. He’s very good mechanically, Mr Liu. Very good at fixing things, but also, it must be said, very good at breaking things as well.’

*

H took him down another flight of steps, his broad-backed form descending one or two paces ahead of Clavain. Clavain looked down on the brilliant blue-black grooves of his greased hair. H appeared quite unconcerned that Clavain might attack him or attempt to make his escape from the monstrous black Chateau. And Clavain felt a strange willingness to co-operate with his new host. It was, he supposed, mostly curiosity. H knew things about Skade that Clavain did not, even if H himself did not pretend to know all the facts. Clavain, in turn, was clearly of interest to H. The two of them could indeed learn much from each other.

But this situation could not continue, Clavain knew. As urbane and interesting as his host might have been, Clavain had still been kidnapped. And he had business that needed to be attended to.

‘Tell me more about Skade,’ Clavain said. ‘What did she want from the Mademoiselle?’

‘It gets a little complicated. I shall do my best, but you must forgive me if I seem not to understand all the details. The truth of the matter is that I doubt that I ever will.‘

‘Start at the beginning.’

They arrived at a hallway. H strolled along it, passing many irregular sculptures resembling the sloughed scabs and scales of some immense metallic dragon, each of which rested on a single annotated plinth.

‘Skade was interested in technology, Mr Clavain.’

‘What kind?’

‘An advanced technology concerning the manipulation of the quantum vacuum. I am not a scientist, Mr Clavain, so I cannot pretend to have more than the shakiest grasp of the relevant principles. But it is my understanding that certain bulk properties of matter — inertia, for instance — stem directly from the properties of the vacuum in which they are embedded. Pure speculation, of course, but wouldn’t a means to control inertia be of use to the Con joiners?’

Clavain thought of the way Nightshade had been able to pursue him across the solar system at such great speed. A technique for suppressing inertia would have allowed that, and might also explain what Skade had been doing aboard the ship during the previous mission. She must have been fine-tuning her technology, testing it in the field. So the technology probably existed, albeit in prototype form. But H would have to learn that for himself.

‘I’ve no knowledge of a programme to develop that kind of ability,’ Clavain told him, choosing his words so as to avoid an outright lie.

‘Doubtless it would be secret, even amongst the Conjoiners. Very experimental and no doubt dangerous.’

‘Where did the technology come from in the first place?’

‘That’s the interesting part. Skade — and by extension the Conjoiners — seem to have had a well-developed idea of what they were looking for before they came here, as if what they sought here was merely the final part of a puzzle. As you know, Skade’s operation was viewed as a failure. She was the only survivor and she did not escape back to your Mother Nest with more than a handful of stolen items. Whether they were sufficient or not, I couldn’t guess…’ H glanced back over his shoulder with a knowing smile.

They reached the end of the corridor. They had arrived on a low-walled ledge that circumnavigated an enormous slope-floored room many storeys deep. Clavain peered over the edge, noting what appeared to be pipes and drainage vents set into the sheer black walls.

‘I’ll ask again,’ Clavain said. ‘Where did the technology come from in the first place?’

‘A donor,’ H answered. ‘Around a century ago I learned an astonishing truth. I gained knowledge of the whereabouts of an individual, an alien individual, who had been waiting undisturbed on this planet for many millions of years, shipwrecked and yet essentially unharmed.’ He paused, evidently watching Clavain’s reaction.

‘Continue,’ Clavain said, determined not to be fazed.

‘Unfortunately, I was not the first to learn of this hapless creature. Other people had discovered that he could give them something of considerable value provided that they held him prisoner and administered regular jolts of pain. This would have been abhorrent under any circumstances, but the creature in question was a highly social animal. Intelligent, too — his was a starfaring culture of great extent and antiquity. In fact, the wreck of his ship still contained functioning technologies. Do you see where this is heading?’

They had walked along one length of the vaultlike chamber. Clavain had still not deduced its function.

‘Those technologies,’ Clavain asked, ‘did they include the inertia-modifying process?’

‘So it would appear. I must confess that I had something of a head start in this matter. Some considerable amount of time ago I met another of these creatures, so I already knew a little of what to expect from this one.’

‘A less open-minded man than myself might find all this a tiny bit difficult to accept,’ Clavain said.

H paused at the corner, placing both hands on the top of the low marble walling. ‘Then I will tell you more, and perhaps you will begin to believe me. It cannot have escaped your attention that the universe is a hazardous place. I’m certain that the Conjoiners have learned this for themselves. What is the current toll — thirteen known extinct intelligent cultures, or is it fourteen now? And one or two possibly extant alien intelligences that unfortunately are so alien that they don’t do anything that might enable us to say for certain how intelligent they really are. The point being that the universe seems to have a way of stamping out intelligence before it gets too big for its boots.’

‘That’s one theory.’ Clavain did not reveal how well it chimed with what he already knew; how it was perfectly consistent with Galiana’s message about a cosmos stalked by wolves that slavered and howled at the scent of sapience.

‘More than a theory. The grubs — that’s the race-name of the species of which the unfortunate individual was a member — had been harried to the point of extinction themselves. They lived only between the stars, shying away from warmth and light. Even there they were nervous. They knew how little it would take to bring the killers down upon them again. In the end they evolved a rather desperate protective strategy. They were not naturally hostile, but they learned that other noisier species sometimes had to be silenced to protect themselves.’ H resumed his stroll, brushing one hand along the wall. It was his right hand, Clavain noticed, and it left behind a thin red smear.

‘How did you learn about the alien?’

‘It’s a long story, Mr Clavain, and one I don’t intend to detain you with. Suffice it only to say the following. I