Empire Of Light Part 12

The ensuing detonation ripped away the platform section where he had been standing. Dakota grabbed hold of the handrail while the entire walkway buckled under her, swaying wildly as some of its supporting cables snapped. By the time the flimsy bridge had stopped swinging and bouncing, she caught a last glimpse of the fire-breather's broken corpse being sucked into the watery depths below.

She looked back to the ledge beyond, but it was too far to jump. And no way in h.e.l.l was she taking her chances with the whirlpool.

'Dakota Merrick!' Moss screeched. 'Do you remember our last conversation?'

'You'll have to remind me, Hugh,' she yelled back, her voice almost lost amid the roar of the surging water.

'I promised you that if you ever stood between me and Trader in Faecal Matter of Animals, I would do terrible things to you things that would make you wish I had only killed you. I said, I believe, that I would make a symphony of your pain.'

'Well, we need to talk about that, Hugh.'

'What is there to talk about?'

'I need you to back off. I need Trader because he can help me stop the war between the Shoal and the Emissaries. If you don't, there's a good chance we're all all going to die.' going to die.'

She heard him laugh, and watched as he took a few steps closer to her. 'Are you appealing to my sense of decency? I'm disappointed, Miss Merrick. I thought you knew me better.'

'I'll kill you if I have to, Hugh.'

'You do realize that Trader is manipulating you, surely?' Moss moved closer. 'He's never honoured an agreement in his life. You know, I rather thought he would find a way to send you after me eventually. In fact I almost hoped this day would come.'

f.u.c.k it, Dakota thought to herself, then hurtled towards him with a yell. Dakota thought to herself, then hurtled towards him with a yell.

Almost at once she felt a powerful shock spasming through her body, an electric jolt that set her nerve endings on fire. Something crackled faintly just in front of her, staining the air itself a barely perceptible shade of blue.

The pain receded and she found she was caught in a shaped-field bubble. She had unwittingly run straight over a set of field-generators fixed to the floor of the walkway.

Dakota tried to stand up, but the ensuing jolt of pain was so enormous, that it forced her back on to her knees.

She waited, with a heavy, cold feeling in her gut, as Moss knelt down beside her. The shaped fields then snapped off at almost the same moment she felt her filmsuit finally drain itself back inside her body. Moss reached out and touched her shoulder. She jerked away as she felt a stinging sensation there.

'Get it over with,' Dakota seethed. 'If you're going to kill me, then kill me. Just don't stand around gloating.'

'Kill you?' Moss affected confusion. 'Always that desire for death. Why would I kill you?' He gave her a lopsided grin. 'Tell me, was I right? Did Trader send you here specially to keep me from chasing him?'

'What makes you think that?'

'I can't think of any other reason you would have bothered to come here. The last time we met, I gave you my word that I wouldn't destroy Ocean's Deep, and in return you gave me Trader. That should have been the last time we ever saw each other and yet here you are.'

'I already told you why, Hugh. I'm not going to repeat myself.'

Moss rocked back on his heels, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. Dakota now had a good view of the long knife he gripped casually in one hand, poised close enough to slash across her exposed throat.

'Would you say I'm a man of my word, Miss Merrick?'

'I don't know what you mean.'

'Let me explain, then. I once gave you my word over Ocean's Deep. Did I honour our deal?'

'Yes,' Dakota admitted, forcing the word out.

'Then please allow me another question. Do you think Trader's the type to honour his promises?'

Dakota ground her teeth. If she made any move, he could cut her throat in an instant. 'No . . . no, I don't.'

'Then let me suggest a deal of my own, one we can both walk away from alive and feeling satisfied.'

She stared at him with an expression like a trapped animal and said nothing.

'Whatever Trader has told you,' he continued regardless, 'he will will betray you. That's his nature. So when that time comes, you should really try and have some kind of advantage over him. Now, you gave me the resources I needed to track his ship anywhere within our galaxy.' betray you. That's his nature. So when that time comes, you should really try and have some kind of advantage over him. Now, you gave me the resources I needed to track his ship anywhere within our galaxy.'

She licked her lips. 'Go on.'

'Allow me, Dakota, to give you in turn the means to control his ship at will. Observe.'

Dakota felt that familiar tingle in the back of her head that told her a large piece of data had just been dumped into her implants, whereupon she remembered Moss was himself a machine-head now. She discovered a moment later that she had come into possession of a complete command structure for a Shoal yacht, entirely configurable to her own needs.

She looked at him with an incredulous expression. 'Why, Hugh? Why are you giving this to me?'

'Because in exchange you will promise never to return, and to always, always always leave me in peace. I believe you will now give me your word, and I will believe you when you give it, regardless of this particular transgression.' leave me in peace. I believe you will now give me your word, and I will believe you when you give it, regardless of this particular transgression.'

'No,' she shook her head, 'it's not that simple. There's something else you're not telling me.'

He stood up now and looked down at her. 'Very well, let me put it this way. Trader's great skill is in surviving by treachery and lies. I've come close to catching up with him in the past, but he always finds a way to escape me. When he betrays you and he will you will have the advantage. Use it to destroy him, Dakota. Save the galaxy the trouble of letting him live.'

'And if he doesn't?'

Moss laughed. 'Will you promise me something, Dakota? When he turns on you, will you put an end to him so he can never turn on you again?'

'And you'd let me go?'

'But of course,' Moss replied, sounding almost magnanimous. He stepped away from her, and sheathed his knife.

She staggered slowly upright, breathing hard.

'So.' He smiled again, in a leathery splitting of his face like the wide yawn of a hungry snake. 'Do we have an agreement?'

She thought over her options. Would Trader even be able to tell if she was lying?

'You're serious about this?' she asked, licking her lips. 'Quite, quite serious.'

'Then I'll do it,' she replied, and realized with a shock that she meant it.

Chapter Twelve.

Corso glanced up at the sound of helicopter blades cutting through the howl of the wind. He looked at Breisch, directly in front of him, then back up through the transparent window in the roof of their tent in time to see a shape pa.s.s across the face of one of Redstone's moons.

'Concentrate on your breathing,' instructed Breisch, without opening his eyes.

They knelt facing each other, on the antique rug spread out beneath them. The tent itself was constructed from multiple layers of highly resilient but extremely light nano-carbon, and was big enough to house up to half a dozen men with plenty of room to spare. Yet, once packed away, it was light and small enough to carry on one man's back.

Corso closed his eyes and focused on the thump of his own heartbeat, like a wet meat clock hammering out the seconds remaining before the fight. The sea hissed against the sh.o.r.e a few metres away. He recalled the words Breisch had repeated endlessly, until it became a kind of mantra: Death is inevitable. Death is inevitable. The key to survival lay only in giving up the fear of dying. Conversely, the key to victory lay in exploiting an opponent's own fear of death. The key to survival lay only in giving up the fear of dying. Conversely, the key to victory lay in exploiting an opponent's own fear of death.

Corso opened his eyes again, unable to concentrate. Instead he studied the man opposite. Breisch was hard and wiry, with gaunt features, a veteran of a hundred challenges, which made him either one of the deadliest or luckiest fighters alive on Redstone, depending on whom you asked.

It had been a considerable surprise to him when Breisch had calmly admitted, shortly after the beginning of their professional relationship, that he fully expected to die while taking part in a challenge.

'It's better than dying old and infirm,' he had stated, in the same calm, clear tone he always spoke in. 'And, frankly, I consider it vastly preferable.'

'But you don't have to take part in challenges any more, if you don't want to,' Corso had argued. Despite his long tally of violent victories, Breisch had never requested a seat in the Senate, claiming to have no interest in politics. 'It's hardly like anyone would blame you, after so much time. You could still honourably refuse.'

'Because I'm old?' Breisch smiled more easily than anyone Corso knew. 'Even now, people still issue me challenges, because they want to be the one who finally takes me down. And one day, when I'm old enough, they'll get their wish. I can't imagine anything worse than retiring to some quiet life of public service. Better to go out fighting, don't you think?'

Corso had long since got over the irony that Breisch had once trained both of the Mansell brothers, who had been part of the fateful expedition to Nova Arctis. He had since worked hard to put his resentment and anger aside, and to accept that Breisch was not responsible for the actions of either Kieran Mansell or his psychopathic brother Udo only for the quality of their combat skills.

A little while later, they began practising some basic moves on the broken sh.o.r.e outside the tent, the stars clear and sharp in the evening sky.

The old man lunged at Corso with a wicked-looking blade, constantly feinting in different directions and throwing kicks and punches when they were least expected. They were both dressed lightly despite the freezing weather, so that nothing restricted their movements.

Despite his exertions, Corso could feel the cold seeping deep into his bones, and the sound of his breathing was like a death rattle as it emerged from the breather mask strapped over his lower face. He knew his fighting skills had improved vastly over the last few months, but he didn't allow himself to forget that perpetual expression of disgust Breisch had worn throughout the first weeks of their training.

Breisch feinted again and Corso antic.i.p.ated his next move, darting to one side and turning at the same time to slash towards the old man's neck with a dull-edged blade. Before he got the chance, Breisch had responded with a backwards kick that sent Corso sprawling on to the frozen gravel.

Corso grunted as he pulled himself up. The old man was driving him even harder than usual.

Breisch looked down at him with a satisfied grin. 'I thought maybe you were getting too distracted, but you still did better than I thought you would.' He reached down with one hand and helped his pupil stand.

After a while they went back inside, Breisch warming a couple of high-protein meals on a hotplate, then retiring to his sleeping mat to rest before the coming challenge. Corso felt too wired-up to do the same.

This would be his tenth challenge since Dakota had departed, and Breisch's training was the only reason he had survived them. So far he had not been obliged to fight anyone else who also had the benefit of Breisch's intensive training, and with any luck he would never need to.

When it was almost time for the fight to start, Corso heard the sound of engines coming closer. He pulled on some thermal gear that would keep out the worst of the cold, and snapped a fresh breather mask over his face before stepping outside.

He could see half a dozen helicopters parked on a flat area about a half kilometre inland, under the shade of a canopy tree whose ma.s.sive trunk reared up for almost two hundred metres. This was a popular destination for Freeholders intent on slaughtering each other in order to gain wealth, power, women, or any combination thereof.

He watched as a balloon-wheeled truck came rolling up towards him, disgorging two pa.s.sengers similarly swaddled in cold-weather gear. One he recognized as Marcus Kenley, the Senate's Speaker, a round-faced man with thin grey whiskers visible around the sides of his breather mask. The other was Lucius Hilgendorf, the head of State Security under the post-coup administration, and by far one of the most dangerous men Corso had ever encountered. Above his mask, his eyes glowered like a snake whose tail had just been trodden on.

'Lucas,' said Kenley, stepping forward and shaking his hand warmly.

Like Corso, Kenley was a moderate in the Senate. Hilgendorf, who was anything but moderate, merely nodded. Kenley's job here was to act as Corso's representative both inside and outside of the ring of combat, which essentially boiled down to making sure the other side did not cheat. Hilgendorf was there to play a similar role for Corso's opponent.

'Senator Jarret has asked me to make an offer,' said Hilgendorf, stepping up to Corso. 'He wants to know if you're willing to negotiate a non-lethal outcome.'

'What you mean is, you're willing to let me live if if I agree to surrender without a fight and automatically relinquish my Senate seat and my vote.' Corso smiled grimly and shook his head. 'Please tell Senator Jarret that if he'd wanted a "non-lethal solution", he shouldn't have issued his challenge in the first place.' I agree to surrender without a fight and automatically relinquish my Senate seat and my vote.' Corso smiled grimly and shook his head. 'Please tell Senator Jarret that if he'd wanted a "non-lethal solution", he shouldn't have issued his challenge in the first place.'

Hilgendorf was anything but a patient man. 'Senator Jarret's a war veteran and a recognized Hero of the State. Maybe you should take some time to reconsider before making any snap decisions, Senator. You're standing on pretty thin ice these days.'

'Unless you've got a serious offer to make,' intervened Kenley, 'you should remain silent, Mr Hilgendorf.'

Corso raised one hand. 'It's okay, Marcus, it's only protocol. Mr Hilgendorf's just here on a formality, isn't that right?' he said, looking Hilgendorf directly in the eye.

'We're offering you an opportunity to step down before you get hurt,' Hilgendorf insisted. 'After all, none of your previous opponents possessed the . . . unique unique skills you and Senator Jarret both share.' skills you and Senator Jarret both share.'

Corso frowned, momentarily thrown off-balance.

'Then I'll extend the same courtesy to Mr Jarret,' he replied, unsure exactly what Hilgendorf had meant. 'If he throws in his glove, I'll let him leave here alive. Otherwise, you can tell him I look forward to meeting him in combat.'

Behind his mask, Hilgendorf's expression seemed to freeze in place. 'Very well, then. I'll pa.s.s your decision back to him.'

'You can take the truck, Mr Hilgendorf,' said Kenley 'We'll walk to the meeting ground.' Kenley cast a questioning look at Corso, who nodded his a.s.sent.

Hilgendorf turned away without another word, and climbed back into the truck. A moment later the vehicle's caterpillar treads gripped the shattered stone beneath it, and headed back the way it had come.

'Fun ride on the way here?' asked Corso.

'How could you tell?' Kenley grumbled. 'Look . . . in all seriousness, Jarret isn't like anyone else you've been up against. He's got a h.e.l.l of a reputation in the combat ring. You must know that, right?'

'And I don't, is that it?'

Kenley started to say something, then seemed to change his mind. He nodded along the frozen sh.o.r.e. 'Care to take a stroll?'

Corso glanced back at the tent, where Breisch was still resting. 'It'd be warmer inside.'

'Please,' Kenley insisted. 'Indulge an old man's intense paranoia.'

Corso shrugged, and they began to walk parallel to the waves beating against the sh.o.r.eline. In the distance, a lighting rig was being set up at the combat ring, and soon sent beams of blazing brilliance slicing through the freezing mist that clung to the terrain further inland. The voices of the work teams racing to get everything ready in time carried to them across the still air.

Kenley stopped after a minute and turned to face Corso. 'There are rumours that Legislate forces are planning something at the Tierra cache.'

'I guess bad news gets about fast,' Corso replied, feeling weary. 'Okay, they're not just rumours. We found smuggled shipments of armaments being taken to the research base there. There's a new batch of technical and research staff just arrived there too, and I'm not sure I can even bring myself to tell you just how many of them I think are Legislate agents.'

'But surely there must be something you can do,' Kenley protested. 'You're in charge of the Peacekeeper Authority.'

'Yeah, but n.o.body elected me. And I was only accepted at first because everyone I dealt with was s.h.i.t-scared of so much as sneezing in Dakota Merrick's direction. Everything went downhill once she left. And now we've managed to speed up the production of new superluminal drives, it's just a matter of time before someone decides to make a grab for the cache.'

'You make it sound like there's going to be a war.'

There already is a war, Corso thought. Yet most people seemed unable to grasp the notion that a conflict happening thousands of light-years away could possibly impinge upon them. Far fewer seemed to appreciate the enormous danger they were all facing. Corso thought. Yet most people seemed unable to grasp the notion that a conflict happening thousands of light-years away could possibly impinge upon them. Far fewer seemed to appreciate the enormous danger they were all facing.

'The way things are looking, it's going to be a pretty one-sided war.' He lowered his voice, even though there was no one nearby who could possibly hear them over the crashing of the surf. 'Did you find out who ordered the arrest of Martinez and his senior officers?'

Kenley nodded. 'It was Jarret, after he arranged a quorum of senators through a series of back-room deals. I don't have any hard evidence, but I'm very, very very sure he's got his hands deep in the Legislate's pockets. More than that, he has someone working for him on board the sure he's got his hands deep in the Legislate's pockets. More than that, he has someone working for him on board the Mjollnir. Mjollnir.'