Takeshi Kovacs - Broken Angels Part 46

"Yeah, I saw."

"They were ghosts," he said, biting down on the words.

"Jiang, for a combat ninja combat ninja you spook way too easy. Who knows what we saw. For all we know, it was some kind of playback." you spook way too easy. Who knows what we saw. For all we know, it was some kind of playback."

"That sounds like a pretty good working definition of the word ghost ghost to me." Ameli Vongsavath was sitting up opposite Sutjiadi's bed. "Kovacs, did I hear you say the Wedge came out for us?" to me." Ameli Vongsavath was sitting up opposite Sutjiadi's bed. "Kovacs, did I hear you say the Wedge came out for us?"

I nodded, drilling a look across the s.p.a.ce between us. "What I was telling Jiang here. Seems I still have full membership privileges."

She got it. Barely a flicker as she scooped up the hint and ran with it.

"Good for you." Looking around at the stirring figures in the other beds. "So who do I get the pleasure of telling we're not dead?"

"Take your pick."

After that, it was easy. Wardani took Sutjiadi's new ident.i.ty on board with camp-ingrained, expressionless dexterity-a paper twist of contraband, silently palmed. Hand, whose exec conditioning had probably been a little less traumatic but also more expensively tailored, matched her impa.s.sivity without blinking. And Luc Deprez, well, he was a deep-cover military a.s.sa.s.sin, he used to breath this stuff for a living.

Layered across it all, like signal interference, was the recollection of our last conscious moments aboard the Martian warship. There was a quiet, shared damage between us that no one was ready to examine closely yet. Instead, we settled for final memories half and hesitantly spoken, jumpy, bravado-spiced talk poured out into a depth of unease to echo the darkness on the other side of the gate. And, I hoped, enough emotional tinsel to shroud Sutjiadi's transformation into Jiang from any scanning eyes and ears.

"At least," I said at one point, "We know why they left the f.u.c.king thing drifting out there now. I mean, it beats radiation and biohazard contamination out into the street. Those at least you can clean up. Can you imagine trying to run a dreadnought at battle stations when every time there's a near-miss the old crew pop up and start clanking their chains."

"I," said Deprez emphatically, "Do not. Believe. In ghosts."

"That didn't seem to bother them."

"Do you think," Vongsavath, picking her way through the thought as if it were snag coral at low tide, "all Martians leave. Left. Something behind when they die. Something like that?"

Wardani shook her head. "If they do, we haven't seen it before. And we've dug up a lot of Martian ruins in the last five hundred years."

"I felt," Sutjiadi swallowed. "They were. Screaming, all of them. It was a ma.s.s trauma. The death of the whole crew, maybe. Maybe you've just never come across that before. That much death. When we were back in Landfall, you said the Martians were a civilisation far in advance of ours. Maybe they just didn't die violently, in large numbers, any more. Maybe they evolved past that."

I grunted. "Neat trick, if you can manage it."

"And we apparently can't," said Wardani.

"Maybe we would have, if that kind of thing was left floating around every time we committed ma.s.s murder."

"Kovacs, that's absurd," Hand was getting out of bed, possessed suddenly of a peculiar, bad-tempered energy. "All of you. You've been listening to too much of this woman's effete, antihuman intellectualism. The Martians were no better evolved than us. You know what I saw out there? I saw two warships that must have cost billions to build, locked into a futile cycle of repet.i.tions, of a battle that solved nothing a hundred thousand years ago, and still solves nothing today. What improvement is that on what we have here on Sanction IV? They were just as good at killing each other as we are."

"Bravo, Hand." Vongsavath clapped a handful of slow, sardonic applause. "You should have been a political officer. Just one problem with your muscular humanism there-that second ship wasn't Martian. Right Mistress Wardani? Totally different config."

All eyes fixed on the archaeologue, who sat with her head bowed. Finally, she looked up, met my gaze and nodded reluctantly.

"It did not look like any Martian technology I have ever seen or heard of." She drew a deep breath. "On the evidence I saw. It would appear the Martians were at war with someone else."

The unease rose from the floor again, winding among us like cold smoke, chilling the conversation to a halt. A tiny premonition of the wake-up call humanity was about to get.

We do not belong out here.

A few centuries we've been let out to play on these three dozen worlds the Martians left us but the playground has been empty of adults all that time, and with no supervision there's just no telling who's going to come creeping over the fence or what they'll do to us. Light is fading from the afternoon sky, retreating across distant rooftops, and in the empty streets below it's suddenly a cold and shadowy neighbourhood.

"This is nonsense," said Hand. "The Martian domain went down in a colonial revolt, everyone agrees on that. Mistress Wardani, the Guild teaches teaches that." that."

"Yeah, Hand." The scorn in Wardani's voice was withering. "And why do you think they teach that? Who allocates Guild funding, you blinkered f.u.c.kwit? Who decides what our children will grow up believing?"

"There is evidence-"

"Don't f.u.c.king f.u.c.king talk to me about evidence." The archaeologue's wasted face lit with fury. For a moment I thought she was going to physically a.s.sault the executive. "You ignorant talk to me about evidence." The archaeologue's wasted face lit with fury. For a moment I thought she was going to physically a.s.sault the executive. "You ignorant motherf.u.c.ker motherf.u.c.ker. What do you know about the Guild? I do this for a living, Hand. Do you want me to tell you how much evidence has been suppressed because it didn't suit the Protectorate worldview? How many researchers were branded antihuman and ruined, how many projects butchered, all because they wouldn't ratify the official line? How much s.h.i.t s.h.i.t the appointed Guild Chancellors spurt every time the Protectorate sees fit to give them a funding handjob?" the appointed Guild Chancellors spurt every time the Protectorate sees fit to give them a funding handjob?"

Hand seemed taken aback by the sudden eruption of rage from this haggard, dying woman. He fumbled. "Statistically, the chances of two starfaring civilisations evolving so close to-"

But it was like walking into the teeth of a gale. Wardani had her own emotional 'meth shot now. Her voice was a lash.

"Are you mentally defective mentally defective? Or weren't you paying attention when we opened the gate? That's instant matter transmission across interplanetary distance, technology that they left lying around left lying around. You think a civilisation like that is going to be limited to a few hundred cubic light years of s.p.a.ce? The weaponry we saw in action out there was faster than light was faster than light. Those ships could both have come from the other side of the f.u.c.king galaxy. How would we know How would we know?"

The quality of light shifted as someone opened the bubblefab flap. Glancing away from Wardani's face for a moment, I saw Tony Loemanako stood in the entrance to the bubblefab, wearing noncom-flashed chameleochrome and trying not to grin.

I raised a hand. "h.e.l.lo, Tony. Welcome to the hallowed chambers of academic debate. Feel free to ask if you don't follow any of the technical terms."

Loemanako gave up trying to hide the grin. "I got a kid back on Latimer wants to be an archaeologue. Says he doesn't want a profession of violence like his old man."

"That's just a stage, Tony. He'll get over it."

"Hope so." Loemanako shifted stiffly, and I saw that under the chameleochrome coveralls, he wore a mobility suit. "Commander wants to see you right away."

"Just me?"

"No, he said bring anyone who's awake. I think it's important."

Outside the bubblefab, evening had closed the sky down to a luminous grey in the west and thickening darkness in the east. Under it all, Carrera's camp was a model of ordered activity in the glow of tripod-mounted Angier lamps.

Envoy habit mapped it for me, cold detail floating over and above a tingling warm sense of hearthfire and company against the encroaching night.

Up by the gate, the sentries sat astride their bugs, leaning back and forth and gesturing. The wind carried down shreds of laughter I recognised as Kwok's, but distance rendered the rest inaudible. Their faceplates were hinged up, but otherwise they were swim-prepped and still armed to the teeth. The other soldiers Loemanako had detailed to back them up stood around a mobile ultravibe cannon in similar casual alertness. Further down the beach, another knot of Wedge uniforms busied themselves with what looked like the components for a blast shield generator. Others moved back and forth from the Angin Chandra's Virtue Angin Chandra's Virtue to the polalloy cabin and the other bubblefabs, carrying crates that could have been anything. Behind and above the scene, lights gleamed from the bridge of the ' to the polalloy cabin and the other bubblefabs, carrying crates that could have been anything. Behind and above the scene, lights gleamed from the bridge of the 'Chandra and at the loading level, where onboard cranes swung more equipment out of the battlewagon's belly and down onto the lamplit sand. and at the loading level, where onboard cranes swung more equipment out of the battlewagon's belly and down onto the lamplit sand.

"So how come the mob suit?" I asked Loemanako, as he led us down towards the unloading area.

He shrugged. "Cable batteries at Rayong. Our tinsel systems went down at a bad time. Got my left leg, hipbone, ribs. Some of the left arm."

"s.h.i.t. You have all the luck, Tony."

"Ah, it's not so bad. Just taking a f.u.c.k of a long time to heal right. Doc says the cables were coated with some kind of carcinogenic, and it's f.u.c.king up the rapid regrowth." He grimaced. "Been like this for three weeks now. Real drag."

"Well, thanks for coming out to us. Especially in that state."

"No worries. Easier getting about in vac than here anyway. Once you're wearing the mob suit, polalloy's just another layer."

"I guess."

Carrera was waiting below the 'Chandra's loading hatch, dressed in the same field coveralls he'd worn earlier and talking to a small, similarly-attired group of ranking officers. A couple of noncoms were busy with mounted equipment up on the edge of the hatch. About halfway between the 'Chandra and the blast shield detail, a ragged-looking individual in a stained uniform perched on a powered-down loadlifter, staring at us out of bleary eyes. When I stared back, he laughed and shook his head convulsively. One hand lifted to rub viciously at the back of his neck and his mouth gaped open as if someone had just drenched him with a bucket of cold water. His face twitched in tiny spasms that I recognised. Wirehead tremors. and the blast shield detail, a ragged-looking individual in a stained uniform perched on a powered-down loadlifter, staring at us out of bleary eyes. When I stared back, he laughed and shook his head convulsively. One hand lifted to rub viciously at the back of his neck and his mouth gaped open as if someone had just drenched him with a bucket of cold water. His face twitched in tiny spasms that I recognised. Wirehead tremors.

Maybe he saw the grimace pa.s.s across my face.

"Oh, yeah, look look that way," he snarled. "You're not so smart, not so that way," he snarled. "You're not so smart, not so f.u.c.king f.u.c.king smart. Got you for antihumanism, got you all filed away, smart. Got you for antihumanism, got you all filed away, heard heard you all and your counter-Cartel sentiments, how do you like-" you all and your counter-Cartel sentiments, how do you like-"

"Shut up, Lamont." There wasn't much volume in Loemanako's voice, but the wirehead jerked as if he'd just been jacked in. His eyes slipped around in their sockets alarmingly, and he cowered. At my side, Loemanako sneered.

"Political officer," he said, and toed some sand in the shivering wreck of a human's direction. "All the f.u.c.king same. All mouth."

"You seem to have this one leashed."

"Yeah, well." Loemanako grinned. "You'd be amazed how quickly these political guys lose interest in their job once they've been socketed up and plugged in a few times. We haven't had a Correct Thought lecture all month, and the personal files, well, I've read 'em and our own mothers couldn't have written nicer things about us. Amazing how all that political dogma just sort of fades away. Isn't that right, Lamont?"

The political officer cringed away from Loemanako. Tears leaked into his eyes.

"Works better than the beatings used to," said the noncom, looking at Lamont dispa.s.sionately. "You know, with Phibun and, what was that other s.h.i.t-mouthed little t.u.r.d called?"

"Portillo," I said absently.

"Yeah, him. See you could never be sure if he was really beaten or if he'd come back at you when he'd licked his wounds a bit. We don't have that problem any more. Think it's the shame that does it. Once you've cut the socket and shown them how to hook up, they do it to themselves. And then, when you take it away... Works like magic. I've seen old Lamont here break his nails trying to get the interface cables out of a locked kitpack."

"Why don't you leave him alone," said Tanya Wardani unevenly. "Can't you see he's already broken."

Loemanako shot her a curious glance.

"Civilian?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Pretty much. She's, uh, on secondment."

"Well, that can work sometimes."

Carrera seemed to have finished his briefing as we approached and the surrounding officers were beginning to disperse. He nodded acknowledgement at Loemanako.

"Thank you, sergeant. Did I see Lamont giving you some grief up there?"

The noncom grinned wolfishly. "Nothing he didn't regret, sir. Think maybe it's time he was deprived again, though."

"I'll give that some thought, sergeant."

"Yes sir."

"Meanwhile." Carrera shifted his focus. "Lieutenant Kovacs, there are a few-"

"Just a moment, commander." It was Hand's voice, remarkably poised and polished, given the state he must be in.

Carrera paused.

"Yes?"

"I'm sure you're aware of who I am, commander. As I am aware of the intrigues in Landfall that have led to your being here. You may not, however, be aware of the extent to which you have been deceived by those who sent you."

Carrera met my gaze and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged.

"No, you're mistaken," said the Wedge commander politely. "I am quite well informed of the extent to which your Mandrake colleagues have been economical with the truth. To be honest, I expected no less."

I heard the silence as Hand's exec training stumbled. It was almost worth a grin.

"In any case," Carrera went on, "The issue of objective truth doesn't much concern me here. I have been paid."

"Less than you could have been." Hand rallied with admirable speed. "My business here is authorised at Cartel level."

"Not any more. Your grubby little friends have sold you out, Hand."

"Then that was their error, commander. There seems no reason for you to share in it. Believe me, I have no desire for retribution to fall where it is not deserved."

Carrera smiled faintly. "Are you threatening me?"

"There is no need to view things in such-"

"I asked if you were threatening me," The Wedge commander's tone was mild. "I'd appreciate a straight yes or no."

Hand sighed. "Let us just say that there are forces I may invoke which my colleagues have not considered, or at least not a.s.sessed correctly."

"Oh, yes. I forgot, you are a believer." Carrera seemed fascinated by the man in front of him. "A hougan. You believe that. Spiritual powers? Can be hired in much the same way as soldiers."

Beside me, Loemanako sn.i.g.g.e.red.

Hand sighed again. "Commander, what I believe believe is that we are both civilised men and-" is that we are both civilised men and-"

The blaster tore through him.

Carrera must have set it for diffuse beam-you don't usually get as much damage as that from the little ones and the thing in the Wedge commander's hand was an ultra compact. A hint of bulk inside the closed fist, a fish-tailed snap-out projector between his second and third knuckle, spare heat, the Envoy in me noticed, still dissipating from the discharge end in visible waves.

No recoil, no visible flash, and no punch backwards where it hit. The crackle snarled past my ears and Hand stood there blinking with a smoking hole in his guts. Then he must have caught the stench of his own seared intestines and, looking down, he made a high-pitched hooting noise that was as much panic as pain.

The ultra compacts take a while to recharge, but I didn't need peripheral vision to tell me jumping Carrera would be a mistake. Noncoms on the loading deck above, Loemanako beside me and the little knot of Wedge officers hadn't dispersed at all-they'd just fanned out and given us room to walk into the set-up.

Neat. Very neat.

Hand staggered, still wailing, and sat down hard on his backside in the sand. Some brutal part of me wanted to laugh at him. His hands pawed the air close to the gaping wound.

I know that feeling, some other part of me recalled, surprised into brief compa.s.sion. It hurts, but you don't know if you dare touch it It hurts, but you don't know if you dare touch it.

"Mistaken again," said Carrera to the ripped open exec at his feet. His tone hadn't shifted since the shooting. "I am not a civilised man, Hand, I'm a soldier. A professional savage, and I'm on hire to men just like you. I wouldn't like to say what that makes you. Except out of fashion back at the Mandrake Tower, that is."