The Revelation Space Collection (515 page)

‘I’ve got a lot of questions,’ Dreyfus said easily. ‘I just wanted to give you the chance to have your say first.’

‘I suppose you’d be the man your colleague mentioned during my last invocation.’

Thalia had already activated the beta-level to test its readiness for interviewing. Of the twelve beta-levels saved from Ruskin-Sartorious, only three had been deemed sufficiently functional to offer useful testimony, despite the best efforts of Thalia and Sparver to mend the remaining nine.

‘I’m Dreyfus,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Welcome to Panoply, Citizen.’

‘Perhaps it’s me, but “welcome” doesn’t have quite the necessary degree of solemnity.’

‘I was just being polite,’ Dreyfus replied. ‘My personal belief is that beta-levels have no claim on consciousness. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just an item of forensic evidence. The fact that I can talk to you - the fact that you might claim to feel alive - is entirely irrelevant.’

‘How reassuring to meet someone with such an enlightened viewpoint. What’s your opinion on women? Do you consider them capable of full sentience, or do you have lingering reservations about them as well?’

‘I don’t have a problem with women. I do have a problem with software entities that pretend to be alive and then expect to be accorded the rights and privileges of the living.’

‘If I’m not alive, how can I “expect” anything?’

‘I’m not saying you can’t be persuasive. But the instant I sense evasion or concealment I’ll send you back to the deepfreeze. Once you’re there, I can’t vouch for your safety. Things go astray. Files get deleted by mistake.’

‘A policeman of the old school,’ Anthony Theobald said, nodding approvingly. ‘Skip the appetiser and straight on to the main course of threats and bullying. Actually, I welcome it. It’s a refreshingly direct approach.’

‘Just so we understand each other.’

‘Now are you ready to tell me what happened?’

Dreyfus scratched at the bulge of neck fat lapping against the back of his collar. ‘My background files say that you were the head of the family in the Bubble. According to the last census, you were lording it over more than nine hundred subjects.’

‘Free family members and citizens. Again: what happened?’

‘How much did my deputy tell you?’

‘Nothing useful.’

‘Good for her. I’ll begin by telling you that Ruskin-Sartorious no longer exists. Your habitat was gutted by the drive exhaust from a lighthugger space vehicle, the
Accompaniment of Shadows
. It appears to have been a deliberate act. Do you remember this event?’

Anthony Theobald lost some of his composure, the set of his jaw slackening. ‘I have no recollection of it.’

‘What’s the last thing you do remember? Does the name of the ship ring any bells?’

‘It rings more than bells, Prefect. We were in negotiations with the
Accompaniment of Shadows
. The ship was parked near Ruskin-Sartorious. ’

‘Why wasn’t she using the Swarm, like all the other ships?’

‘I gather there was a problem with their long-distance shuttle. It was simpler to move the entire ship and rely on one of our own short-range shuttles. We had the facilities to cope, and Dravidian’s crew seemed happy enough to be entertained at our expense.’

It was the first mention of the captain’s name.

‘Trade talks?’

Anthony Theobald looked at Dreyfus as if the question was absurd. ‘What other reason is there to deal with Ultras?’

‘Just asking. How were the talks running?’

‘Agreeably, at first.’

‘And then?’

‘Less agreeably. We weren’t experienced in dealings with Ultras. I’d hoped matters wouldn’t come to such a sorry pass, frankly. We had some financial difficulties and I’d been hoping that the affair between Vernon and Delphine would ease matters somewhat . . . but that wasn’t to be. In the end we had no choice but to deal with Ultras.’

‘What were you hoping to sell?’

‘Delphine’s works, of course.’

Dreyfus nodded as if nothing more needed to be said, but filed the information away for future reference. Thalia had already informed him that the other two stable witnesses were Delphine Ruskin-Sartorious and her lover, Vernon Tregent. ‘And when the crew visited you - who were you dealing with, primarily?’

‘Dravidian, in the main.’

‘How’d you take to him?’

‘I found him straightforward enough for a cyborg, or chimeric, or however they wish to be called. He appeared interested in some samples of Delphine’s work. He felt he could get a good price for them around one of the other worlds.’

‘Where was his next port of call?’

‘I confess I don’t recall. Fand, Sky’s Edge, the First System, some other godforsaken place. What did it matter to me, once the works were sold?’

‘Maybe it mattered to Delphine.’

‘Then you can take it up with her. My sole concern was the economic benefit to Ruskin-Sartorious.’

‘And you got the impression Dravidian was offering a fair price?’

‘I’d have preferred more, naturally, but the offer appeared reasonable enough. Judging by the state of his ship and crew, Dravidian had his own financial difficulties.’

‘So you were happy with the deal. You sold the goods to the Ultras. Dravidian said goodbye and took his ship away. What happened next?’

‘That isn’t how things played out. Negotiations were winding to a close when Delphine received an anonymous message. She brought it to my immediate attention. It suggested that Dravidian was not to be trusted: that the price he was offering us was far below a realistic market value, and that we would be much better off dealing with other Ultras.’

‘But you had no access to anyone else.’

‘Until then. But the message hinted that there might in fact be interested parties.’

‘How’d you react?’

‘We consulted. I was suspicious, urging that we should conclude our business with Dravidian. We had a deal. But Delphine demurred. She used executive privilege to block the transaction. Vernon supported her, of course. I was furious, but not half as furious as Dravidian. He said the honour of his ship and crew had been impugned. He issued threats, saying that what we’d done would cost Ruskin-Sartorious gravely.’

‘And then what?’

‘His crew returned to their ship. Our shuttle came back. We saw the
Accompaniment of Shadows
move away.’ Anthony Theobald spread his hands. ‘And that is all I remember. As you have been so thoughtful as to remind me, I am a beta-level simulation: reliant for my perceptions on the distributed surveillance systems of the habitat. Those perceptions would have been processed and consolidated in the core, but it would not have been an instantaneous process. There would not have been enough time to incorporate those final observations into my personality model before Ruskin-Sartorious was destroyed.’

‘At least you remember something.’

‘You’ll hear the same story from the others.’ Anthony Theobald peered intently at Dreyfus. ‘There are others, aren’t there?’

‘I can’t say. I haven’t completed my interviews.’

‘Do you intend to question Dravidian?’

‘I’ll question anyone I think might have an angle on the attack.’

‘You can’t let this atrocity go unpunished, Prefect. Something unspeakable happened to Ruskin-Sartorious. Someone must pay for that.’

‘I’m pretty sure someone will,’ Dreyfus said.

When he had returned the simulation to storage - very much against its wishes - Dreyfus took a minute to note his own thoughts into his compad. Perhaps his clarifying statement concerning his views on beta-levels hadn’t helped matters, but he’d sensed an undeniable hostility from the Ruskin-Sartorious patriarch. It would be a mistake to read too much into that, though. No one liked Panoply very much, and the resurrected dead were no exception.

He invoked the second valid recoverable, opting to take a slightly less harsh tack.

‘Hello, Vernon,’ Dreyfus said, addressing the younger-looking man who’d just appeared. He had a pleasant, trustworthy face and a headful of tight blond curls. ‘Welcome to Panoply. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but in case my colleague didn’t make it clear, your primary is dead.’

‘I gathered,’ Vernon Tregent said. ‘I still want to know about Delphine. Your colleague wouldn’t tell me anything. Did she make it out? Did you get anything from her beta?’

‘We’ll get to that. I just need to clarify something first. I don’t mean this to sound hurtful, but there are people who believe in the sanctity of beta-levels, and people who don’t, and I’m afraid I’m one of the latter.’

‘That’s fine,’ Vernon said, with an easy shrug. ‘I don’t believe in the sanctity of beta-levels either.’

Dreyfus blinked a double-take. ‘How can you not believe? You
are
one.’

‘But my responses are governed by Vernon’s beliefs, as demonstrated on countless occasions. Vernon didn’t think beta-levels were anything more than clever simulacra. He was very vocal in that opinion. Hence, I share that view.’

‘Good . . .’ Dreyfus said, less sure of himself. ‘That’ll make life a lot easier.’ Then some impulse caused him to volunteer more information than he’d normally have considered wise. ‘We’ve recovered Delphine. I still have to interview her, but my colleague thinks there’ll be enough there to serve as a useful witness.’

Vernon closed his eyes. He raised his chin, as if giving thanks to the blank white infinity that served as a ceiling. ‘I’m glad. If anyone deserved to get out, it was Delphine. Now tell me what happened.’

‘Does the name Dravidian mean anything to you?’

‘If you mean the Ultra captain . . . then yes, it means a lot. What happened?’

‘You don’t remember?’

‘I wouldn’t be asking if I did.’

It was the same story as Anthony Theobald, Dreyfus thought. No memory of the final events because the recording systems hadn’t had time to update the beta-level models in the processor cores. ‘Your habitat was destroyed,’ he said. ‘The captain - we’ll assume Dravidian gave the order - appears to have decided to slash it open with his engine.’

‘Dravidian wouldn’t have . . .’ But Vernon trailed off, as if the very repugnance of the crime was only now hitting home. ‘I can’t believe he’d have done something so vicious, so out-of-proportion. There’s no doubt that this happened?’

‘I’ve crawled over the ruin myself. Forensic evidence is watertight. And one of my other witnesses says that Dravidian didn’t like it when the deal went sour.’

Vernon pushed his fingertips against his temples, screwing up his eyes. ‘I remember that we were close to settling things. Then the message came through . . . Delphine received it, I remember.’

‘Saying not to trust Dravidian?’

‘Saying we could get a better offer elsewhere. Anthony Theobald was angry, of course: he wanted those funds so badly he was prepared to sell Delphine’s art for its scrap value.’ Vernon clenched his fist in emphasis. ‘But it was her life’s work! She’d put her soul into it. I couldn’t stand by and see it sold off for less than a fair price.’

‘So you and Delphine decided to break off negotiations.’

‘We wished Dravidian no hard feelings.’

‘But he didn’t take it well.’

‘He seemed put out, exasperated, as if he genuinely thought he was offering an honest price for Delphine’s art. He said he’d have to think twice about ever doing business with us again. He said that to withdraw from negotiations so late in a discussion was most irregular.’ Vernon shook his head. ‘But to go from that to . . . destroying Delphine’s home . . . nothing he said indicated that he was
that
angry. I mean, there’s a difference between angry and murderous. Isn’t there?’

‘Less than you’d think.’

‘Do you think he did it, Prefect? Do you think Dravidian was capable of this?’

‘Let’s get back to Delphine. Was she an artist of some kind?’

‘Some of us thought so.’

‘What kind of work?’

‘Sculpture, mostly. Her work was brilliant. She was right to want the best price for it.’

Dreyfus thought back to the face he’d seen carved into the rock drifting through the ruins of Ruskin-Sartorious. He couldn’t deny the power of the piece, but there’d been nothing useful about it in the forensics summary.

‘Was she working on anything at the time of the attack?’

‘Well, not literally, but she’d been busy with a big piece for several months. Part of her Lascaille series.’ The young man shrugged. ‘It was just a phase she was going through.’

The word ‘Lascaille’ meant something to Dreyfus, just as he was sure he’d recognised the face in the rock, but neither shed any immediate light on the other. It was only a work of art, but anything that offered a window into Delphine’s head might be useful in determining her role in events. He made a mental note to look into the matter later.

‘How did you come to know her?’ he asked. ‘Were you married?’

‘We were supposed to be married. Ruskin-Sartorious was in financial difficulties and Anthony Theobald thought he could solve the Bubble’s problems by marrying his daughter off to the son of another habitat. He already had ties to Macro Hektor Industrial: we’d installed his anti-collision defences and he was in debt to us. I was the scion of one of the most powerful family lines within Industrial. Negotiations took place behind our backs. Delphine and I didn’t like that very much.’ He smiled sadly. ‘But that didn’t stop us from falling in love for real.’