The Night's Dawn Trilogy (61 page)

“I’m not sure it was pagan,” Oski Katsura said. “We have already identified a gene sequence similar to the Edenist affinity
gene in the Laymil genome. However they are obviously far more Gaiaistic than Edenist humans; their habitat, the spaceholm,
was virtually a part of the reproductive process. It certainly seemed to possess some kind of veto power.”

“Like me and Tranquillity,” Ione said under her breath.

Hardly.

Give us another five thousand years, and the birth of a new Lord of Ruin could easily become ritualized.

You are entirely correct, Ione Saldana,
Lieria said. The Kiint continued speaking through her white wafer. “I note considerable evidence to indicate the Laymil mate-selection
process is based on scientific eugenics rather than primitive spiritualism. Suitability is considerably more than possession
of desirable physical characteristics, mental strength is obviously a prime requirement.”

“Whatever, it opens up a fantastic window into their culture,” Parker Higgens said. “We knew so little before this. To think
that a mere three minutes could show us so much. The possibilities it reveals…” He looked at the electronics stack almost
in worship.

“Will there be any problem in translating the rest of it?” Ione asked Oski Katsura.

“I don’t see any. What you accessed was still pretty crude, the emotional analogues were only rough approximates. We’ll tweak
the program, of course, but I doubt we could have direct parallels with a race that alien.”

Ione stared at the electronics stack. An oracle for a whole race. And possibly, just possibly, the secret was inside it: why
they did it. The more she thought about it, the more puzzling it became. The Laymil were so vibrantly alive. What in God’s
name could ever make an entity like that commit suicide?

She shivered slightly, then turned to Parker Higgens. “Set up a priority budget for the Electronics Division,” she said decisively.
“I want all eight thousand hours translated as soon as possible. And the Cultural Analysis Division is going to have to be
expanded considerably. We’ve concentrated far too much on the technological and physical side of the Laymil to date, that’s
going to have to change now.”

Parker Higgens opened his mouth to protest.

“That wasn’t a criticism, Parker,” she said quickly. “The physical is all we’ve had to go on so far. But now we have these
sensory and emotional memories we’re entering a new phase. Extend invitations to whichever xenoc psychology experts you think
will be of help, offer endowment sabbaticals from their current tenures. I’ll add a personal message to the invitations if
you think my name will carry any weight with them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Parker Higgens appeared bemused by her speed.

“Lieria, I’d like you or one of your colleagues to assist with the cultural interpretation, I can see your viewpoints will
be invaluable.”

Lieria’s arms rippled from root to tip (a Kiint laugh?). “It will be my pleasure to assist, Ione Saldana.”

“One final thing. I want Tranquillity to be the first to review the memories as and when they are translated.”

“Yes,” Oski Katsura said uncertainly.

“Sorry,” Ione said with an earnest smile. “But as Lord of Ruin I retain the right to embargo weapons technology. The cultural
experts might argue over the finer nuances of what we see for months at a time, but a weapon is pretty easy to spot. I don’t
want any particularly unsavoury armaments released to the Confederation at large.” And if it was an enemy’s weapon that destroyed
the Laymil habitats I want to know before I decide what to tell everybody.

Night had come to Durringham. It brought with it a thick grey mist which flowed down the slushy streets and over the mouldering
roof slats, depositing an unctuous coating of droplets in its wake. The water filmed every exterior wall until the whole city
was glistening darkly, droplets running together and dribbling off the eaves and overhangs. Doors and shutters were no protection,
the mist penetrated buildings with ease, soaking into fabrics and condensing over furniture. It was worse than the rain.

The Governor’s office was faring little better than the rest of the city. Colin Rexrew had turned up the conditioning until
it made an aggravated rattling sound, but the atmosphere inside remained obstinately muggy. He was reviewing satellite images
with Terrance Smith and Candace Elford, Lalonde’s Chief Sheriff. The three big wall-screens opposite the curving window were
displaying pictures of a riverside settlement village. They showed the usual collection of shambolic huts and small fields,
large piles of felled trunks, and stumps which played host to ears of orange fungi. Chickens scratched around in the dirt
between the huts, while dogs roamed free. The few people captured by the camera were dressed in dirty, ragged clothes. One
child, about two years old, was completely naked.

“These are very poor images,” Colin Rexrew complained. Most of the edges were blurred, even the colours appeared wan.

“Yes,” Candace Elford agreed. “We ran a diagnostic check on the observation satellite, but there was no malfunction. The images
from any other area it views are flawless. The satellite only has trouble when it’s passing over the Quallheim.”

“Oh, come on,” Terrance Smith said. “You can’t mean that the people in the Quallheim Counties can distort our observation,
surely?”

Candace Elford considered her answer. She was fifty-seven, and Lalonde was her second appointment as chief sheriff. Both senior
appointments had been won because of her thoroughness; she had worked her way up through various colony planet police services,
and harboured a kind of bewildered contempt for colonists, who, she had discovered, were capable of damn near anything out
in the frontier lands. “It’s unlikely,” she admitted. “The Confederation Navy ELINT satellites haven’t detected any unusual
emissions from Schuster County. It’s probably a glitch, that satellite is fifteen years old, and it hasn’t been serviced for
the last eleven years.”

“All right,” Colin Rexrew said. “Point noted. We don’t have the money for regular services, as you well know.”

“When it breaks down, a replacement will cost the LDC a lot more than the expense of proper triennial maintenance,” Candace
Elford countered.

“Please! Can we stick with the topic in hand,” Colin Rexrew said. He eyed the drinks cabinet longingly. It would have been
nice to break open one of the chilled white wines and have a more relaxed session, but Candace Elford would have refused,
which would make it awkward. She was such an uncompromising officer; one of his best though, someone the sheriffs respected
and obeyed. He needed her, so he put up with her rigid adherence to protocol, counting his blessings.

“Very well,” she said crisply. “As you can see, Aberdale has twelve burnt-out buildings. According to the sheriff in Schuster
town, Matthew Skinner, there was some kind of Ivet disturbance four days ago, which is when the buildings were razed. The
Ivets allegedly murdered a ten-year-old boy, and the villagers set about hunting them down. Supervisor Manani’s communication
block wasn’t working, so an Aberdale villager visited Schuster the day after this murder, and Matthew Skinner reported it
to my office. That was three days ago. He said he was riding to Aberdale to investigate; apparently most of the Ivets had
been killed by that time. We heard nothing until this morning, when Matthew Skinner said the disturbance was over, and the
Aberdale Ivets were all dead.”

“I disapprove of vigilante action,” Colin Rexrew said. “Officially, that is. But given the circumstances I can’t say I blame
the Aberdale villagers, those Ivets have always been a mixed blessing. Half of them should never be sent here, ten years’
work-time isn’t going to rehabilitate the real recidivists.”

“Yes, sir,” Candace Elford said. “But that’s not the problem.”

Colin Rexrew brushed back tufts of his thinning hair with clammy hands. “I didn’t think it would be that simple. Go on.”

She datavised an order into the office’s computer. The screens started to display another village; it looked even more impecunious
than Aberdale. “This is Schuster town itself,” she said. “The image was recorded this morning. As you can see, there are three
burnt-out buildings.”

Colin Rexrew sat up a little straighter behind his desk. “They had Ivet trouble, too?”

“That is the curious thing,” Candace Elford said. “Matthew Skinner never mentioned the fires, and he should have done, fires
like that are dangerous in those kinds of communities. The last routine satellite images we have of Schuster are two weeks
old, the buildings were intact then.”

“It’s pushing coincidence a long way,” Colin Rexrew said, half to himself.

“That’s what my office thought,” Candace Elford said. “So we started checking a little closer. The Land Allocation Office
divided the Quallheim territory up into three counties, Schuster, Medellin, and Rossan, which between them now have ten villages.
We spotted burnt-out buildings in six of those villages: Aberdale, Schuster, Qayen, Pamiers, Kil-kee, and Medellin.” She datavised
more instructions. The screens started to run through the images of the villages her office had recorded that morning.

“Oh, Jesus,” Colin Rexrew muttered. Some of the blackened timbers were still smoking. “What’s been happening up there?”

“First thing we asked. So we called up each of the village supervisors,” Candace Elford said. “Qayen’s didn’t answer, the
other three said everything was fine. So we called up the villages that didn’t show any damage. Salkhad, Guer, and Suttal
didn’t answer; Rossan’s supervisor said they were all OK, and nothing out of the ordinary was happening. They hadn’t heard
or seen anything from any of the other villages.”

“What’s your opinion?” Colin Rexrew asked.

The chief sheriff turned back to the screens. “One final piece of information. The satellite made seven passes over the Quallheim
Counties today. Despite the shoddy images, at no time did we see anybody working in any of those fields; not in any of the
ten villages.”

Terrance Smith whistled as he sucked air through his teeth. “Not good. There’s no way you’d keep a colonist from his field,
not on a day with weather like it has been up there. They are utterly dependent on those crops. The supervisors make it quite
plain from the start, once they’re settled, they don’t get any help from Durringham. They can’t afford to leave the fields
untended. Remember what happened in Ark-low County?”

Colin Rexrew gave his aide an irritable look. “Don’t remind me, I accessed the files when I arrived.” He transferred his gaze
to the screens, and the image of Qayen village. A black premonition was rising in his mind. “So what are you telling me, Candace?”

“I know what it looks like,” she said. “I just can’t believe it, that’s all. An Ivet revolt which has successfully taken control
of the Quallheim Counties, and in just four days, too.”

“There are over six thousand colonists spread out in those counties,” Terrance Smith said. “Most of them have weapons and
aren’t afraid to use them. Against that, there are a hundred and eighty-six Ivets, unarmed and unorganized, and without any
form of reliable communication. They’re Earth’s junk, waster kids; if they could organize something like this they would never
be here in the first place.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I said I don’t believe it. But what else could it be? Someone from outside? Who?”

Colin Rexrew frowned. “Schuster’s been a problem before. What…” He trailed off, requesting a search through the files stored
in his neural nanonics. “Ah, yes; the disappearing homestead families. Do you remember, Terrance, I sent a marshal up to investigate
last year. Bloody great waste of money that was.”

“It was a waste of money from our point of view because the marshal didn’t find anything,” Terrance Smith said. “That in itself
was unusual. Those marshals are good. Which means either it was a genuine case of some animal carrying the families away,
or some unknown group was responsible, and managed to cover their tracks to such an extent it fooled both the local supervisor
and the marshal. If it was an organized raid, then the perpetrators were at least the equal of our marshal.”

“So?” Colin Rexrew asked.

“So now we have another event, originating in the same county, that would be hard to explain away in terms of an Ivet revolt.
Certainly the scale of the trouble argues against it being the Ivets by themselves. But an external group taking over the
Quallheim Counties would fit the facts we have.”

“We only have a secondhand report that it was Ivets anyway,” Colin Rexrew said, pondering the unwelcome idea.

“It still doesn’t make any sense,” Candace Elford said. “I concede that the facts indicate the Ivets are getting help. But
what external group? And why the Quallheim Counties, for God’s sake? There’s no wealth out there; the colonists are barely
self-sufficient. There’s no wealth anywhere on Lalonde, come to that.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Colin Rexrew said. “Look, I’ve got three river-boats scheduled to leave in two days, they’re
taking six hundred fresh settlers up to Schuster County so they can start another village. You’re my security adviser, Candace,
are you telling me not to send them?”

“I think my advice would have to be, yes; certainly at this stage. It’s not as if you’re short of destinations. Sending unsuspecting
raw colonists into the middle of a potential revolt wouldn’t look good on any of our records. Is there a nearby alternative
to Schuster where you can settle them?”

“Willow West County on the Frenshaw tributary,” Ter-rance Smith suggested. “It’s only a hundred kilometres north-west of Schuster;
plenty of room for them there. It’s on our current territory development list anyway.”

“OK,” Colin Rexrew said. “Get it organized with the Land Allocation Office. In the meantime, what do you intend to do about
the Quallheim situation, Candace?”

“I want your permission to send a posse up there on the boats with the colonists. Once the colonists have been dropped off
at Willow West, the boats can take them on to the Quallheim. As soon as I’ve got reliable people on the ground we can establish
what’s really going on and restore some order.”