The Dark Imbalance (19 page)

11

TBC-14 (a.k.a. IND Kindling)

955.1.33

0390

“Who is the enemy, Page?” Saltan Trezise asked via the ftl link with the
Phlegethon.

De Bruyn didn’t answer immediately. She was too busy watching the recording of Perdue Habitat disintegrate. It was the third time she had sat through it; this time she was paying special attention to one particular section of the structure.

Signs still remained of where Roche’s tame clone warrior had blown his way in through the outer hatch of the refuse dumper, and where the ex-Dato scutter had left distinctive exhaust marks upon its departure. Unfortunately, that portion of the habitat had been one of the most severely damaged, and De Bruyn’s recording was the only remaining proof of what had taken place there.

“Someone got rid of the evidence,” she said, watching again the puff of energy that tore apart the section of the habitat, atomizing anything that might have remained within and slagging the dumper itself. “There’s nothing left at all.”

“Are you listening to me, Page?” he said. “I asked—”

“I heard you,” she said. And indeed she had: she had switched to an ordinary audio link, tired of his voice insinuating through her implants. After a session with him, she felt as if her brain had been soaked in oil. “I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“The work you and your ineffectual council should be doing.”

“We have enough on our hands without wasting time pursuing grudges.”

“Is that really what you think this is?” She made no attempt to hide her anger. She’d had enough of that sort of talk from the mercenaries on
Dark Stressor.

“You haven’t given me sufficient evidence to think otherwise, I must say.”

“
Must
you?”

His sigh was audible over the link. “Page, you’re acting like a child.”

“I’m investigating every possibility,” she said. “
That’s
what I’m doing.”

“No you’re not,” he countered quickly. “You’re investigating just
one
possibility from every possible angle.”

“And what’s wrong with that? It’s still a possibility.”

“A remote one, at best,” he said. “Really, Page, what have you to go on? A suspicion; a scrap or two of barely circumstantial evidence—”

“
More
than a scrap! We know Roche was in the habitat. One of your own agents lifted her image from security. But no one saw her leave.” She indicated the image before her, speaking as much to herself as to Trezise, mulling over the problem again. “This whole area was blacked out at the time. We have no hard evidence of anything!”

“We
do
know she escaped, Page. She sent a report to Rey Nemeth ten hours later.”

“
Someone
did. We can’t be sure it was her.”

His laugh held more exasperation than amusement. “You think she stayed behind?”

“Maybe. Or maybe the scutter acted as a distraction while she went elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“With whom?”

“I don’t
know
.” Her fists clenched.

“So in the absence of any alternative theory, do you
really
believe it wasn’t her?”

“All I’m saying is that it pays to be careful. She’s slippery, and she’s not stupid. If she thinks she’s being followed, who knows what lengths she would go to to avoid me?”

“Possibly,” he muttered. “But you have to admit that these lengths would be ridiculous.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but decided against it. The evidence overwhelmingly suggested that Roche
had
been on the scutter when it left the habitat, and that she had therefore been aboard the
Ana Vereine
when it left the vicinity of the disaster. If De Bruyn could allow herself to feel satisfied on that point, she could move on. There were other, more immediate things to worry about.

She killed the recording, deciding that she did in fact agree with Trezise. She would not, however, give him the satisfaction of knowing that she had given in.

“Have
you
learned anything of note?” she challenged him as she checked local space. Still no sign of the ship she was waiting for.

“Things are moving apace,” he said. “The Kesh-Olmahoi conflict has ended as expected, with the Kesh decisively routed. Surprisingly, no evidence has been found of enemy involvement. But the council is lending its support to those attempting to clean up the mess.”

No evidence
, De Bruyn repeated to herself, disappointed that he should be so blind.

“We’ve been investigating the cult I mentioned earlier, the one purported to worship the enemy,” he went on. “They have caused a moderately large amount of damage and their influence appears to be growing. It seems there are several splinter sects. Their devotion is quite genuine, albeit misplaced and lacking any foundation. We have interrogated a number of devotees and found that they possess no more knowledge about the enemy than we do ourselves. If the enemy
does
have any involvement with them at all, then it is purely symbolic. They share no information with their worshippers, and no plans, and seem to bear them no sympathy at all when they are purged. Five pockets of the religion have been flushed out of as many fleets, and not once has the enemy raised a hand to stop us.

“The interesting thing, though, is that the cults believe, as do some of us, that the enemy has been sent to rid the galaxy of Pristines. While this does conflict with some of the evidence we have gathered, it
is
suggestive. There might yet be a grain of truth to that belief, after all.”

De Bruyn let him ramble on. She didn’t know whether he was talking for her benefit, or his own, but she doubted he would be telling her anything simply because he thought it would help her. Maybe he thought she knew something about the cults and might let it slip if he encouraged her. She did, but she wasn’t going to let him know.

The near-space screen was still empty.

“There have been a few setbacks,” he continued. “One of the council’s major allies, the Espire-Mavrodis Coalition, was struck from within just hours ago. A group of military officers attempted to capitalize on discontent in the lower ranks, and mounted a coup that might very well have been successful, had not one of their own had a change of heart at the last moment and turned against them. The debacle cost the life of nearly every person we had come to rely on in that quarter, and has left the Coalition in complete disarray. They’ll be no use to us in the short term, I’m afraid—and maybe never, as there is talk of them pulling out to regroup. Unfortunately, the defecting officer has not been found.”

“Has the Commonwealth of Empires been affected?” De Bruyn asked.

“No. That continues to puzzle me. It is such an easy target, and so close to the focus of things. I would’ve thought it would be riddled with the enemy.”

De Bruyn nodded to herself, agreeing with him about the COE’s vulnerability but not really surprised that it seemed to have been spared.

“And I hope you’ve taken my warning about the system’s ring,” he said. “We’ve lost five ships in there, that we know of. Four others are incommunicado. With the little information we’ve had to go on, it’s hard to say why this is happening. Given the conflict within the system at the moment, the likelihood of a ship being attacked simply because it is not recognized by another Caste has risen dramatically. It is possible that the ships were attacked out of paranoia. It’s hard to know for sure.” He paused. “It may not have anything to do with the ring itself at all. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious, and until we
do
know for certain what’s going on, I advise you to stay away from it.”

De Bruyn had been doing just that, not because of Trezise’s warning, but because Roche herself had stuck to more distant regions of the system.

“Could the enemy be hiding within the ring?” she asked.

“No, it’s too thin—thinner than even the most meager of atmospheres. Add it all together and you get enough for a medium-sized gas giant or two, but spread out so far it amounts to practically nothing at all. The Heresiarch still hasn’t worked out where it came from, but that’s a low priority at this point. He’s only concerned because he’s obsessed by navigational anomalies. With a ship that big to look after, even the slightest snag could be disastrous. You know, I think he spends all his time—”

“Look, Salton,” she interrupted, “was there an actual
reason
for this call?”

“I always have a reason, Page. You know that.”

“Would it have anything to do with the information I requested?”

“No,” he said. “But I do happen to have that as well.”

She gritted her teeth. “Can I have it?”

“It should be coming through with this transmission.” She could hear the smile in his voice, but kept her annoyance in check.

“Thank you,” she forced herself to say, but not without a hint of sarcasm, and not before checking that he was telling the truth. He was. As soon as the data transfer was complete, she would get rid of him.

“But before you go,” he said, irritating her still further by seeming to read her thoughts, “can I ask you a small favor in return?”

Here we go,
she thought “Which is?”

“That idiot Murnane is thinking of letting Exotics onto the council. Obviously that would be a dangerous idea, even if they were allowed only an advisory or associate status. Things are complicated enough without adding more interests into the mix. If we can’t guarantee our own safety—as the downfall of the Espire-Mavrodis Coalition demonstrates all too well—why should we make ourselves responsible for anyone else’s?”

“Unless they can help you more in return.”

“Which is exactly what I think Murnane is hoping for. But I for one am skeptical.”

She refrained from commenting on his motives. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Well, I’m presuming that you are following Morgan Roche as she gallivants across this forsaken system. That seems to be your mission in life, after all.”

“You could presume that,” she said, thinking:
But you’d be wrong.

“And I happen to know that her mission is to reconnoiter the Exotic Castes to see how they are faring against the enemy. But we both know this is a waste of time.
Everyone
is performing badly against the enemy—be they Exotic or Pristine.”

The data had arrived. “What’s your point, Salton?”

“I need a reason to keep the Exotics off the council, Page. You can help me find that reason.”

“I can?”

“You’re out there, among it all. You’re seeing it firsthand. You can give me the flip side to Roche’s reports. She makes it sound like the Exotics are suffering as much as we are—which may be true, but I’d prefer if it wasn’t quite so obvious.”

“Why not, if it’s the truth?”

“That’s just the point I’m trying to make. We should ignore it
because
it is true. It
has
to be deliberate. What’s the biggest problem in Sol System at the moment? It’s not the enemy—although I don’t doubt their presence is being felt in a thousand small ways: disrupting communications, sabotaging procedures, corrupting information, and more. Even without the enemy, even if everything ran smoothly, there’d still be chaos: there are simply
too many people
! And when these people start fighting among themselves, the situation inevitably worsens. We’re balancing constantly on the precipice of all-out mayhem; only the most super- Human effort stops us from doing the enemy’s job for them.”

“So you figure that if there are less people, things might improve?”

“Of course! Reorganize and integrate our resources, limit the number of governments to a manageable number, reduce the council’s active concerns to a feasible few, and
maybe
we’ll prevail. Given that the majority of people here are Pristines, and that apart from a few exceptions the enemy seems to target Pristines, wouldn’t it be better if everyone else left and let the Pristines sort it out?”

“With you in charge, no doubt.”

He laughed lightly. “I knew I could count on you to see my reasoning,” he said. “And if my proposal goes through the council, hopefully others will too.”

“So you want me to lie about what’s happening to the Exotics?”

“No; I just want you to balance the scales.”

“It amounts to the same thing,” she said.

“It’s all about
how
you put it, Page. How else do you think politics works? Give me the right words and I could move entire solar systems.”

“Not if there isn’t anyone listening to you.” She found it hard to imagine greasy Salton Trezise, known for so long as Auberon Chase’s lackey, being a force in his own right in something like the IEPC. “
Is
anyone going to be listening to you, Salton?”

“I have the ear of several councilors,” he said. “Enough to make a difference.”

“Why do you need me, then? Why not use the council’s own agents?”

“Because
your
reports will help discredit Roche’s. That’s a cause to which I know you will apply yourself.” He chuckled softly to himself for a second. “Look, even discounting personal grudges, Page, this will benefit us both. Think of the enemy—the
common
enemy.
They’re
the ones we’re ultimately after—not Roche, not Murnane. If we can do what we want to do while at the same time achieving what we need to achieve, then we approach success. Ultimately the ends do justify the means, and, as we’re in this together, we might as well use each other to the best of our abilities. I’m not naive, Page; I
know
you’ve used me to suit your needs.”

“I would never call you ‘naive,’ Salton,” she said soberly.

“Good,” he returned. “Then let’s start working together, because together we
can
do some damage—to the enemy, and to those who oppose us.”

And to each other
, she thought. But all she said was: “Okay, Salton. I’ll see what I can do.”

He was silent long enough for her to suspect he might have gone, even though the line was still open. That suited her. A beacon had begun to flash on the fighter’s main display, indicating that a ship had just entered her region of the system. She didn’t know if Trezise could tell where she was by tracing which ftl drone had detected her replies to him; maybe the broadcasts traveled from drone to drone in a complicated chain, not just via a single one direct to the receiving stations on the
Phlegethon.
Either way, she was glad he seemed to think she was still hot on Roche’s heels. If he knew where she actually was, he might reconsider his deal.