“We’ve already had a comprehensive demonstration that one of their ships can destroy one of our habitats, no problem. Granted, Ruskin-Sartorious was one of the smaller states, but I think the principle still applies. They can help us, Jane.”
“Will they go for it?”
“We won’t know unless we ask,” Dreyfus said.
She looked down, surveying her weightless form, the tips of her dangling feet. Dreyfus wondered if she had noticed the thin, red scratch of the laser that was now cutting across her body just below her neckline. If she had cause to raise a hand, she would notice it shining across her wrist. Demikhov’s guillotine was in place, the laser’s sub-millimetre accuracy good enough for surgical purposes, so Dreyfus had been informed. If the laser happened to transect her throat above the upper extremity of the scarab, and if all other physiological parameters were satisfactory, Demikhov would initiate the decapitation process. Demikhov had even argued against Dreyfus visiting Aumonier in person, for he would not trigger the blades while another prefect was in the same room. Dreyfus understood that, and that his presence was therefore not in Aumonier’s best interests. But he’d had an overwhelming need to see her before he left.
“I don’t want to keep you, Tom,” she said hesitantly.
“But before you go—”
He cut her off, more out of nerves than intention.
“There’s been no news from Captain Sarasota?” he asked.
“I’m still waiting. Her last report said that there appeared to be thermal signatures consistent with survivors, but they won’t know until they’ve docked with it and cut a boarding aperture. I’ve no idea what the hell that thing is, but I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
“It’s not done anything hostile, has it?”
“No. On that score your intuitions were correct.”
There was a silence. Dreyfus was conscious of the ship waiting for him down in the bay, almost ready for departure. As little desire as he had to be aboard it, he knew that he could not delay. It might take many hours to reach Ops Nine, but every minute was critical.
“You were about to say something,” he said.
“Then I interrupted you.”
Aumonier could not meet his eyes.
“This is difficult for me.”
“Then save it for later. I’m not planning on staying down there.”
“It can’t wait until later, unfortunately. This whole business with the Clockmaker has precipitated something I had hoped to avoid for a very long while. Perhaps for ever. I’ve had to make a very difficult decision, Tom. Even now, I don’t know if what I’m about to do, what I’m about to say to you, is the right thing.”
“Perhaps you should just say it and see how things go.”
“Before you board the ship, I’m going to make a document available you. I’ll have it transferred onto your compad.”
“You want me to read a document?”
“It isn’t that simple. You have Pangolin clearance now, but this is a matter above Pangolin. You’ll need Manticore.”
“I don’t have Manticore.”
“But I can grant it to you. The choice will be yours as to whether you use it or not.”
“Why should I hesitate?”
“Because of what’s in that document, Tom. It probably won’t come as a great surprise if I tell you that it concerns the last Clockmaker crisis, and what happened to the Sylveste Institute for Artificial Mentation. By implication, it concerns Valery.”
“I understand.” She answered very gently.
“No, you don’t. Not yet. Not until you’ve read the contents. Something happened back then, Tom, that was personally very difficult for you.”
“I lost my wife. It doesn’t get any more difficult than that.” Aumonier closed her eyes. He could sense the distress this was causing her.
“What happened in SIAM was… not what was entered in the public record. There were good reasons for this. But you chose not to live with the facts as they were.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You were more closely involved in the Clockmaker affair than you have led yourself to believe these last eleven years. After the crisis, you were… troubled. You could no longer function as an effective prefect.
You recognised this yourself and requested the appropriate remedial action.” Though he was floating weightless, Dreyfus had the impression that he was falling down a deep, dark shaft, into invisible depths.
“What do you mean?”
“Selective amnesia was applied, Tom, at your request. Your memories of the Clockmaker crisis were forcibly suppressed.”
“But the records say I was nowhere near SIAM,” Dreyfus protested.
“The records were incorrect. Since so much of what happened that day was destined to remain secret anyway, it was an easy matter to place you elsewhere. It was done with my full authorisation.”
Dreyfus knew she wasn’t lying. She had no reason to, not now. The stress of speaking the truth was almost ripping her in two.
“And the missing six hours? What happened with the Atalanta?” “It’s all in the document. Take Manticore and you’ll understand why we had to lie. But understand that it was the truth that nearly broke you. I’ve spent eleven years protecting you from the memories you wanted suppressed. In return, I’ve got back the best field prefect I could ever have asked for. But now I have to give you the key, so you can unlock them again.”
“Will digging up the past really help?” Dreyfus asked, his own voice sounding small and childlike.
“I don’t know. But I can’t let you go down there without knowing everything there is to know about the Clockmaker. Ultimately, though, the choice has to be yours.”
“I understand.”
“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, Tom. If there was any other way in the world…”
He looked at the thin red line etched across her throat like a premonitory scar.
“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”
Captain Pell was talking to Thyssen when Dreyfus arrived in the pressurised observation platform overlooking the nose bay. Pell had already been briefed on the general nature of the mission, though not its precise objective.
“We’ll make our approach into the atmosphere just like any other ship on its way to Chasm City,”. Dreyfus said.
“But once we’re under cover of the clouds, you fly me to the other hemisphere. Can you do that without Aurora picking up our movement?”
“Nothing’s guaranteed,” Pell said.
“If we go supersonic, and she happens to have sensors pointed down at the right part of the sky, she may see the disturbance in the atmosphere caused by our Mach cone.”
Dreyfus didn’t welcome the news, but he’d been expecting it.
“Then we’ll have to hold subsonic. How long will that take?”
“Eight, nine hours, depending on the trajectory. Too long for you?”
“It’s still faster than using surface transportation, even if I could get closer than Loreanville.”
Pell tapped a stylus at the compad he held in the crook of his arm.
“There are some deep canyon systems we can use for cover. I may be able to take us supersonic for brief periods, using the canyon walls to soak up most of our Shockwave.”
“Just give me the fastest approach you can consistent with our staying hidden from orbital surveillance.”
“You want me to drop you right on the doorstep of that place?”
Dreyfus shook his head.
“I’m not expecting a warm welcome when I get there. You’ll have to assess the terrain and put me down as close as you can without risking detection by anti-ship systems. If that means I have to walk twenty or thirty klicks
