Molehunt (30 page)

‘It was all rubbish,' said Maximus as he savagely slammed the ship through its paces. He did not look at the Envoy, feeling shamed by what had happened on the OEP.

‘The entity spoke the truth.'

Maximus laughed. ‘An ancient riddling truth perhaps, a smoke screen to deflect the weak and woolly-minded.'

‘It deflected you.'

Maximus flushed, feeling a burning anger towards the Envoy, who stared back, impassive.

‘You wish to kill me? Then do so. It makes little difference, but it may slow down your acquisition of the coordinates.'

The dry impersonal quality of this response brought Maximus to his senses. He laughed.

‘Okay. So as a species we're pretty damned flawed. Okay? I've said it.'

‘It is your strength and your weakness.'

Maximus had a sudden insight. ‘You study us, don't you?'

‘We find you interesting.'

Maximus snorted. ‘So humanity is one big Petri dish to you?'

‘Something happened that night in the hut.'

Maximus swallowed. ‘I don't want to talk about it.'

The Envoy swivelled its eyes, studying him. ‘The entity was right. You will not seek healing or redemption, for then you would have no quest. You are complex creatures.'

The trip to Arcadia took several days, even at the faster-than-light speeds the Envoy's hyperdrive ship travelled. They didn't try to traverse the entire distance by ship. Instead, they headed for the Bourjel system, whose fourth planet was part of the galaxy-spanning teleportation network of Dyson jump-gates. From there they reached Arcadia in a matter of hours. Red tape delayed their arrival, though in that regard Maximus's RIM identity turned out to be of help.

They reached Arcadia six days after departing the OEP.

Maximus immediately went to Quesada's headquarters in the Block and made himself known. Lotang had not yet returned from Reema's End, but the Quesadans were aware of the transfer. After establishing Nathaniel Brown's identity, he was shown into the CEO's luxury apartment. Other quarters were found for the Envoy who had reverted to the use of his cowl and robe. The Arcadians treated him with a mixture of fear and loathing. It was the universal fate of ethnic minorities.

Maximus did not get long to rest.

He had arrived in the middle of a war between Quesada and Myoto that he had instigated, having ordered the expulsion. Some other Clans and Companies were offering lukewarm support, though Imperial Standard was creating many legal obstructions without actually opposing Quesada outright. Maximus made a note to deal with Imperial Standard later. They would make good target practice.

The war was an annoying complication. Maximus needed to find the Buddha referred to by the Old Empire AI. Then he had to decipher the riddle, if it was in fact a riddle.

And there were formalities to observe. Maximus could not afford to ignore them. The rank and file Quesadans had received a serious shock. Their CEO had apparently stood down and named a successor, one who had immediately plunged them into a blood feud with another Company. They knew Lotang, but Maximus was unknown and commanded no loyalty as yet. There were rites to observe, transitions to honour.

The formalities took the best part of two days during which Myoto struck several times, destroying important holdings and killing dozens of Quesadans. Maximus would have to hit back as his hold on Quesada was still tenuous. If he were seen to be weak then he would not last another forty-eight hours. Quesadans were not above assassination.

With this in mind he sent the Envoy on a mission.

When the formalities had been dispensed with, he had his first meeting with the board of Quesada. He immediately established his own style. Out went another of Lotang's beloved thrones and the schoolroom set up of tables and chairs facing the throne. Instead, he brought in a huge oval table, made of real Earth oak, an overt sign of wealth and power. But it also made the board members, the eight powerful and deadly men and women who had fought their way to the top, like his equals. Of course, this equality was an illusion, but it made them feel important. Good government was about making people feel important without giving anything away.

The first meeting did not go well.

Hedi Ramiz kept bringing the discussion back to the war with Myoto. Her view was that the expulsion had been rash, at this time. After all, they were trying to cement the
Majoris Corporata
, not create divisions within the Cartel.

Finally, Maximus slapped the table hard. Silence fell. He eyed Hedi balefully. To her credit, she did not back down. He liked that.

‘So what would you have me do, Hedi?'

‘Does the new CEO need my advice?'

‘Hardly,' said Maximus. ‘But it would be nice to know that members of my board are as capable of constructive suggestions as they are of complaining. Were I to drop dead, what would you do? Start complaining about my death? Can you do anything but complain?

Hedi looked hurt, and hunted. ‘My advice is you take out their top man here. Jarvid. With him gone, the local branch of Myoto will be disorganised. Ripe for a putsch.'

‘That's crazy,' said another woman at the table.

‘Yes,' said a man by the name of Viren. ‘Right now, Jarvid's the most highly protected man on Arcadia, probably within several light years. You'd never get to him.'

There were murmurs of agreement around the table. The door at the back of the room opened and the Envoy entered. Several board members turned uneasily in their chairs and watched him whisper in Maximus's ear before taking up position behind the new CEO.

‘Well, it seems Jarvid wasn't so highly protected after all,' Maximus announced.

Hedi was first to speak. ‘You mean –?'

Nodding, Maximus stood up. ‘Jarvid is dead, along with three of his inner circle. I think that concludes the meeting for today. I have some work to do, so we will not reconvene until Friday. Thank you.'

An awed hush filled the room.

Maximus left by a side door, followed by the Envoy. Once they were out of hearing he demanded the details of the assassination, smacking a fist into his palm with satisfaction. ‘That'll show the bastards. Okay. Now we get back to business.'

Maximus had not been idle. He had searches arranged for the Buddha, though so far to no avail. No one on the floating city knew anything of the Buddha. Many had never heard the term, though Maximus's research had revealed that Buddha had lived on Earth long ago, and had given rise to a belief system. The Buddha, typically, was represented by an idol of a bald, fat, man. Maximus had copies made of the figurine and kept one, of pure gold, on his desk. The implacable good-naturedness of the statue intrigued him.

It especially intrigued him that the Buddha had two eyes.

Several days of frustration passed, during which Myoto had been alarmingly quiet. Everyone had expected immediate retaliation, but it seemed that their enemy was either too disorganised and demoralised to hit back, or taking their time, planning a hit of such magnitude and barbarity Myoto stock would jump several points. Indeed, the other Clans and Companies might rally to Myoto, demanding they be reinstated. Maximus could not allow that, but right now his mind was on other matters.

Finally, a week after arriving on Arcadia, he discovered the Buddha. He was out on his roof garden one night, drinking a sublimely pungent beverage, staring silently out into space. The Envoy stood nearby in the shadows, a motionless statue.

Whilst staring at the sky, Maximus started, spilling his drink. He jumped to his feet, beckoning the Envoy to follow him, and ran down to his control room. Here he had a technician project astrogation charts onto a screen, flicking through them with manic speed.

‘Stop! That one. Go back!'

The technician operating the chart projector quickly reversed the machine's progress. Maximus grinned, staring at a constellation of stars in the exact shape of a sitting Buddha … except that it had only one eye!

‘What's the name of that star?' he demanded.

The technician consulted his screen. ‘Constantine, sir.'

‘Does that name mean anything to you?'

‘Why, yes, sir. General Constantine was one of the Old Empire commanders. He built Arcadia. It was his personal palace.'

Maximus punched the air. ‘Yes!'

The Envoy hissed, ‘Are there any representations of the general?'

‘Representations? Oh, you mean statues? Yes. Just one.'

Twenty minutes later, Maximus and the Envoy stood in Constantine Park, a recreational area in a rundown section of Arcadia. In the middle stood a huge statue of the general, some twenty metres high. He was standing stiffly, hat on head, in battle breeches and tunic, peering at a sheaf of papers in his hand. Everything had been fashioned from indestructible neutronium. Cubicles in the base had historical 3D footage running continuously, celebrating the general's achievements.

‘Get a crew out here,' Maximus said to the Envoy. ‘I want this thing taken apart molecule by molecule.' The Envoy turned to go. ‘No, wait a minute!'

He had had a sudden dizzying idea. Switching on his sticky field attractors, he climbed up to the statue's chest, and then clambered along the arm holding the papers.

He peered at these for a moment then started to laugh.

There before him, in plain sight for anyone to see, was the first part of the lost coordinates, etched into the document that General Constantine had been staring at for nearly a thousand years.

A
NNEKE fled into a side passage, and paused to get her breath. Her wounds were taking a toll on her vitality. The creatures had successfully blocked her route to the docked ship and she had had to circle back to escape their enclosing tactic. Even then she had run into another one of them but this time she had wounded it, blasting off one of its arms.

She checked her scanner, and then checked it again. She could have sworn she had seen three other blips appear like ghosts, then wink out again. She wiped the sweat from her eyes, ran a diagnostic on the device, and breathed a sigh when she saw that it was scanning correctly. Only the original three blips were present. Just as well. Any more of those things and she would be in big trouble.

Correction. Bigger trouble.

Right now she had to plot a course back to the docked scooter. Unfortunately, the guard creatures knew where she needed to go. One of the blips had taken up position in the sole approach to the kitchen dump.

Okay. That meant she might have to do a little spacewalking. Fortunately, she had come equipped with a disposable field suit, so all she needed was a way outside the ship. The best place for that was the main dock.

Anneke located the dock on her screen then set off at a loping run. Once again her Normanskian muscles came to her aid, offsetting the effects of injuries. But she had some distance to go, and she did not know how well these creatures knew this territory. She suspected they were a recent introduction to the OEP, probably by the mole as a way to gain unopposed entry to the Hub and the AI computer. It was clear that the human crew on board the OEP had been there for several months without encountering any mishap, so this pointed the finger of blame at the mole yet again. Had they callously disposed of them once they had completed their task of readying the OEP?

If she were a punter, she would bet that the homicidal THMEs wandering around the OEP were the result of the virus the mole had obtained from the planet Arachnor. If that was the case, and the Sentinels had held Arachnor under interdiction for centuries, then they must know what these creatures were.

Hence the interdiction.

Anneke had a sudden insight. The mole had
manufactured
these beings, and not just to gain entry to the OEP.

But for now Anneke had two objectives. One, get off the OEP. Two, try not to wonder what these THMEs were
before
they became monsters.

An eerie sensation warned her someone was standing behind her. She spun around, gun ready, but the passageway was empty. According to her scanner the THMEs were not in her vicinity.