The Thousand Emperors (24 page)

‘Something like the glitch in Vasili’s home security when he died?’

‘A thought that had indeed crossed my mind, Mr Gabion.’

She adjusted the stool on which she sat, then leaned in towards him. He saw the curve of her neck just centimetres from his nose, the flesh silky and smooth. She pressed fingertips against his
skull, and he noticed she was wearing a scent that made him think of flowers.

She murmured something he didn’t catch, and a mechant drifted closer, its multi-tipped blades hovering uncomfortably close to the skin of his neck.

Luc swallowed sour phlegm. ‘Is all this really necessary?’

‘If you want a shot at retaining your core personality, yes,’ she replied, sounding distracted. ‘Now stop talking while I get on with this. Ah!’ she exclaimed a moment
later, ‘this
is
interesting.’

Luc felt a pressure against the side of his skull, followed by the sensation of something warm and liquid running down the back of his head. His hands held tightly onto the sides of the slab,
muscles locked rigid.

Something whined mechanically and he felt a similar pressure on the other side of his head. Moments later a barbiturate calm flooded his senses and he relaxed.

‘Your lattice barely responded to the inhibitors I put in place,’ she muttered. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. It circumvented every countermeasure, and its growth is
barely retarded. I’d almost think . . .’

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll just have to try something a little different this time. Try and stay still for now.’

Like I’m going to get up and run around.

‘You need to put the Ambassador under surveillance,’ he said, as de Almeida moved out of direct view. He was finding himself becoming uncomfortably aroused by the smell of her skin,
and the visible curve of her breasts beneath the thin tunic she wore.

De Almeida stepped back into view and made a sour face as she tapped at a lit panel on the side of one of the mechants hovering over him. ‘That won’t be easy,’ she said.

‘You can’t do it?’

‘Of course I can do it,’ she snapped. ‘But I have to be careful to avoid detection. Let’s see . . .’ she glanced over at one of the hovering projections of the
interior of Luc’s head. ‘You’re not sleeping well, are you?’

‘Not for some time, no,’ he admitted.

She nodded. ‘Your brain is struggling to assimilate information coming from two different sources: your own mind, and Antonov’s instantiation. I can try and retard the rate of growth
again, but unless I can figure out some new strategy . . .’

Luc shuddered inwardly. ‘How bad is it?’

‘Impossible to say. Remember, this was fast, sloppy work – Antonov was improvising when he did this.’

‘So it’s not like I’m carrying the whole of his thoughts and memories inside me. He can’t . . . take me over, or anything like that?’ He had to force the words
out.

She laughed. ‘Hardly. You can’t just dump a copy of someone’s mind into a living, breathing human body with pre-existing cognitive structures.’

‘But that’s what he did, isn’t it?’

‘True, but the outcome is proving far from beneficial for either party.’

‘The Sandoz Clans do it, don’t they? And you. You’re a Councillor. If you die, you can be reborn in a clone body.’

‘Yes, a
clone
body, heavily modified with an
in situ
lattice of its own from the moment of its inception in a growth tank. The clone body must be created from your own DNA as
well.’

‘And I don’t have a clone-body ready to jump into.’

‘Precisely. And unless I can find a way to retard this thing’s growth, all you have to look forward to, I’m afraid, is madness followed by death.’

Luc stared at her, a sick feeling building inside him. ‘Isn’t there anyone else in the Council you could talk to in confidence about this? Someone who understands how lattices
work?’

‘Well, there’s Rowena Engberg, and also Cutler Suszynski. They developed the lattice technology together. Engberg still runs the clinic that engineers all of the Council’s
lattices. Unfortunately, they’re both loyal Eighty-Fivers. They’d hand both our heads to Cheng on a plate in a flat instant if we approached them.’

‘The Ambassador knew I was there, at Vasili’s service. He could see me. He said my lattice is far in advance of anything the Tian Di can make.’

De Almeida nodded distractedly. ‘Yes, you told me already.’

‘So where the hell could Antonov have got this thing inside me
from
?’

She said nothing, and he guessed she had no more idea than he did.

‘I asked you before for access to Vanaheim’s global security network. I think maybe it’s time you finally gave it to me.’

To Luc’s astonishment, she didn’t even argue or scoff at the request this time. Instead, she held a hand up towards him, palm out, and after a moment he saw a single bright flash of
light, centred on her palm.

Suddenly he was aware of things he had never been aware of until that moment, and yet which felt as if they had always been known to him. The feeling was extraordinary – like stumbling
across a part of his mind he had never noticed before.

‘Done,’ she said. ‘You now have
limited
access to Vanaheim’s global security, but that access is funnelled through me. I’ll be aware of everything you
do.’

‘Limited in what way?’

‘It’s restricted to the Ambassador’s movements only. You’ll be able to see where he goes, and when. Give it a try.’

‘How?’

‘Picture him. The lattice will pinpoint his location and filter the appropriate A/V data to you.’

Luc closed his eyes and pictured Ambassador Sachs, as he had been on board the
Sequoia
. Within moments he found himself looking at a low, one-storey building spread across a few acres in
the centre of a forest clearing.

‘I can see a building, but not the Ambassador.’

‘You’re seeing through the eyes of one of my micro-mechants currently in his vicinity. Just tell it to move in closer.’

He nodded and tried again.

The view jumped as the tiny machine lifted from its perch and swooped in low towards the building. Luc caught sight of a ground-to-orbit flier in the process of dropping onto a landing area to
one side of the building, halfway between it and the trees. The sunlight passing through the craft’s AG field shimmered with rainbow colours.

The Ambassador emerged from the spacecraft as Luc watched, making his way towards a second flier parked at the other end of the landing area. He still wore his mirror mask and hood, even though
he was alone – something which made him seem even more otherworldly than he already did.

‘Just how many of these micro-mechants do you have scattered all across Vanaheim?’ asked Luc.

‘A lot,’ de Almeida replied.

The viewpoint shifted again as the tiny mechant buzzed several metres closer. Luc saw the Ambassador board the second flier. It lifted up almost immediately, sending dead leaves spinning into
the air as it ascended.

He’s in a hurry
, thought Luc. Ambassador Sachs must have departed the
Sequoia
only shortly after he himself had. And now he was on his way somewhere else.

‘You’re telling me the Council seriously don’t mind you being able to see every damn thing they’re up to like this?’ he asked, keeping his eyes closed.

‘Apart from the Eighty-Five, you mean?’ She laughed dryly. ‘The system is set up so they’re aware if I’m watching, or can find out easily enough. That way I’m
accountable for everything I do.’

So you say
, thought Luc. The micro-mechant had lifted its lens to follow the flier as it dwindled into a deepening blue sky.

‘So what do you do if you need to know what they’re up to, but you don’t want them to know?’

‘I spy on them regardless.’

Luc opened his eyes and looked up at her. ‘And they’re seriously all right with that?’

‘If I can prove at a later date that it was necessary to do so, of course,’ she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Privacy is always respected, but there
are times when such things do prove necessary. You can get up now,’ she added, standing back.

Luc swayed a little as he stood upright. He reached up to touch the side of his head, and when he brought his hand back down found it speckled with blood.

‘Somewhere I can wash up?’

She nodded towards a sink and tap a few metres away. ‘Over there.’

Luc ran lukewarm water across his stubbled scalp and down the back of his neck. He glanced up at a mirror over the sink and saw de Almeida putting her roll of instruments away, but started when
he realized the exact same hunched figure still stood in the same corner he had seen it days before. He froze, chilled by the sight.

‘Zelia,’ he said, without taking his eyes off the creature, ‘I really want to know just what that thing is.’

De Almeida looked around, confused, then walked across the laboratory until she could see the same pathetic hunched figure.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘does that bother you?’

Luc turned from the sink to stare at her, appalled beyond belief. ‘Doesn’t it bother
you
?’

She shrugged. ‘He’s nothing. A criminal, a malcontent.’

Luc studied her features, entirely free of guilt or empathy.
These are the people you chose to serve
, he reminded himself.

‘Just tell me who he is,’ he demanded, his voice ragged. ‘He’s been standing there for . . . for
days
. What the hell could he have done, to deserve winding up like
that?’

Her mouth pinched up. ‘Damn it, Gabion, these are people who’ve been sentenced to death. I can make good use of them this way.’

‘Make
use
of them?’ Luc laughed, but it was a dismal, half-choked sound by the time it emerged from his throat.

‘You don’t approve?’

‘
Look
at him! Doesn’t it bother you, to reduce a human being to something like that?’

‘Have you ever thought,’ she asked, her voice cold, ‘about the struggle the Tian Di faced in order to achieve as much as it did, over the centuries? Things like the CogNet,
instantiation lattices, data-ghosting, or any of the hundreds of other networked symbiotic technologies that make our lives easier?’ She nodded towards the huddled figure. ‘This
laboratory isn’t here just for show. The Council still supports original research into new ways to integrate flesh and machinery.’

‘There must be other ways to—’

‘Other ways?’ she barked. ‘It’s precisely that lack of insight, that refusal to commit to necessary sacrifices that tells me you could never be a member of the Council
yourself. You’ve seen Ambassador Sachs, haven’t you? Whatever’s under that mask of his, it’s evident the Coalition has become a fully post-human society. We need to
understand them and what they’ve become before their culture overwhelms our own because, let me assure you, their technology is
far
in advance of ours. That, right now, is the central
focus of my research.’

She gestured towards the hunched figure. Luc looked on as, very slowly and carefully, it turned on the spot, its feet shuffling and scraping on the bare floor. He watched it lumber towards a
curved balustrade set against a far wall, then slowly make its way down some steps and out of sight. Luc found it hard to contain his horror; it was difficult to believe that pathetic, shambling
form had once been a person with a name and a history.

‘Where is the Ambassador now?’

Luc forced himself to turn back to de Almeida. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Ambassador Sachs,’ she repeated with obvious impatience. ‘You
are
still keeping tabs on him, aren’t you?’

Luc switched his attention back to the Ambassador. Instead of a visual feed, this time his lattice supplied a geo-locational tag attached to a virtual map of Vanaheim.

‘His flier’s headed north-west,’ he informed her.

‘Fine. Just keep an eye on him. Otherwise, I think we’re done here for now.’

‘The lattice,’ said Luc. ‘What’s the latest prognosis?’

She bit her lip, clearly mulling over an appropriate response. ‘It’s hard to be sure. But I’m feeling pretty hopeful I can delay its growth long enough to find some longer-term
solution.’

Luc nodded tightly, unwilling to let her see how distressed her words really made him.

A mechant floated down next to her, a tunic jacket gripped in its manipulators. It laid the jacket across her shoulders.

‘I’ll call on you as soon as I have anything more of value,’ she said, stepping towards the spiral staircase that led to the upper floor. ‘A flier is waiting outside for
you, one I’ve reserved for your sole use. You’ll be pleased to know you won’t need to hide inside any more crates in future.’

She quickly ascended the steps, disappearing into a shaft of light slanting down from the next floor up. Luc stepped towards the exit, but then paused, thinking of the eyeless ruin de Almeida
had just sent downstairs.

It only took a few moments to descend the steps to the basement level below de Almeida’s laboratory.

He pushed open a door at the bottom of the steps, finding himself at one end of a long stone corridor with an arched ceiling. The air tasted damp and slightly mouldy, while junk and what looked
like pieces of discarded laboratory equipment were piled untidily in deep alcoves set into the passageway on either side. He could hear the muffled thud of machinery from somewhere up ahead, the
slate tiles beneath his feet vibrating faintly in time with the thuds.

The air grew rapidly warmer as he made his way along the passageway. After twenty metres or so it widened to accommodate several steel trestle tables, a few of which were covered over with
blood-spattered sheets, almost as if Luc had stumbled across a battlefield hospital.

He came to a stop, seeing two mechants hovering over the naked body of a man that had been laid out on one of the tables. Another eyeless horror – not the same one, he sensed, that de
Almeida had just sent down here – stood next to the unconscious man. This creature had needle-tipped machinery in place of fingers; its movements were slow and measured and, as Luc
approached, it turned slowly to regard him with its uncanny blank gaze.