The Dark Imbalance (4 page)

2

AVS-44

955.1.30

0640

Something stirred inside Roche as they approached the
Phlegethon.

For the most part, the uneven surface of the giant ship’s hull was bleak and lifeless, with only the occasional beacon sporadically flaring in the darkness. But as they moved along the length of the
Phlegethon
’s vast exterior, a patch of quivering energy some fifty kilometers wide followed, lighting up the ship’s black, moist-looking skin. There were no windows of any description to be seen, yet Roche couldn’t help but feel she was being watched. Not by the ship’s instruments perhaps, but by the ship itself. It seemed...
alive
to her. And the
Phlegethon
’s only identifying mark, a mural of a giant, half-lidded eye on the flattened underbelly of the beast, only enhanced that feeling.

She suppressed a shudder as the bulk of it passed between her and the distant, yellow sun. This close to the monster craft, she felt intimidated, ineffectual. Worse, she felt vulnerable.

“The ships following us have broken off,” said Kajic via the scutter’s intercom. “Whatever the IEPC said to them, it’s had the desired effect.”

She could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t saying what was foremost on his mind. “You think I’m doing the wrong thing, don’t you?”

He didn’t reply immediately. When he did, he sounded almost relieved. “Yes, Morgan.”

He didn’t need to say anything more than that. Roche could see his reasoning: after Linegar Rufo had captured half her crew by luring them into his station in Palasian System, Kajic had every right to point out that she might be making the same mistake twice—and for similar reasons, too. But those reasons were sound, and they outweighed any risks to her personally.

She needed information, first and foremost, and she had information others might find useful. She had to take the chance that this Interim Executive Pristine Council—whatever
that
was— was in the system to help, not hinder.

And she had Maii with her, as well as the Box, hidden away in her flesh. Haid hadn’t liked being left behind, but he could see that Roche needed the sort of help only a reave might be able to provide. If it was a trap, then she was never going to be able to fight her way out of the
Phlegethon
by force alone.

“Trim,” said the traffic controller, guiding her in a perfunctory, almost disinterested manner.

She concentrated on flying the scutter. It had drifted slightly off course. She corrected easily, following the trajectory she had been given to three decimal places.

“We don’t have a better option at the moment,” she told Kajic.

“I know,” he replied. “That’s the main reason I’ve kept silent.”

The scutter arced gracefully toward an open dock two thirds from the hollow tip of the
Phlegethon
to its base. A line of docks encircled the ship, one every fifty meters. Roche performed the arithmetic in her head: assuming the ring went right around the ship, that made almost a thousand docks in that band alone, and she could see several more bands in either direction along the hull. She could only wonder why they needed so many. Fighter launchers, perhaps?

There was no denying the sophistication of the vessel. How far it had come was still unknown, but she had no doubt it belonged to an empire of similarly spectacular proportions.

“You getting anything from the crew, Maii?” Roche turned unnecessarily to the girl. “Any clues as to where they’re from?”

said the girl. She sat next to Roche in the copilot’s station, wearing an undersized hazard suit that brought her up to Roche’s height and twice her thickness. Inside she would be safe from Xarodine or any other physical anti-epsense attacks. Roche wore a simple environment suit in Dato colors with a bare minimum of ceramic armor and an energy pistol at her side. is
their home. If there was a place prior to this, it didn’t leave much of an impression on them. Most are simply focused on their jobs or their daily lives.> She paused for a few seconds.

“Prayers? To whom?”

said Maii.

Roche smiled. “What about the Interim Executive Pristine Council? Anything there?”

“Well, keep trying,” said Roche. “And let me know if you learn anything important.”

<1 will, Morgan.>

Roche eased the scutter into the large dock, bringing it to a halt in exactly the spot indicated. There followed a series of clangs and small bumps; then the traffic controller spoke again.

“You’re docked,” he said. “Praise Weryn, and welcome aboard the
Phlegethon.”

“Thanks.” Roche unclipped her harness and stepped from the couch.

“Air outside is normal,” said Kajic. “And so far our transmissions aren’t being interfered with.” He still sounded concerned.

“Good. I think we’re going to be okay, Uri.”

“You’d better hope so, Morgan,” Haid put in over the open line. “Because if something
does
go wrong, I don’t fancy our chances of getting you out of there.”

“Personally, I don’t give you any chance at all. Not against this thing.” Roche forced herself to sound casual. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

said Maii.

said Roche. She let the hint of a smile carry with her reply.

* * *

A tall woman with a solid build met them outside the airlock bay. She was dressed in a sky-blue uniform that seemed part robe, part jumpsuit. It was hard to tell where the folds of fabric stopped or started. Her face was long and strong-boned, her chin curved and slightly protruding.

“My name is Hue Vischilglin,” she said, taking both of Roche’s hands in hers and pressing them to her forehead. She repeated the ritual with Maii, when Roche introduced her. The young reave, made awkward by the hazard suit, bowed slightly in return. “Be welcome here.”

“Thank you,” said Roche distractedly, glancing along the empty, curving corridor that connected all the various docks on the inside of the ship. It was so long that the air blurred the details in the distance, and so wide that, with gravity pointing down away from the center of the ship, it almost appeared flat. She shook her head. “I never expected...
this
!”

“Few do.” Vischilglin smiled warmly and gestured for them to follow her across the plain toward a distant pillar. There was no one else in sight. “The Heterodoxies have come from the Far Reaches on the other side of the galaxy. They’ve known about the problem longer than most, and have possibly suffered its worst effects. This ship is all that’s left of one of their fleets. Its Heresiarch—its ‘captain’—rebelled when he was ordered to destroy a civilian outpost inhabited by several billion people. It would seem his superiors had been infiltrated by the enemy. He managed to escape reprisal and kept on running. Eventually he was contacted by others in similar situations and directed here.

“Like some of the other outermost Castes, their greater lead-in time has given him more chance to prepare for being here. On the other hand, his crew is exhausted from having come so far. That’s probably why they’re being so open-minded about the council running the show.” She smiled widely. “Although I suspect they were as glad to get their hands on our ftl relays and advanced camouflage as much as we were glad to get our hands on such a figurehead. What a beast, eh? And to think this was just one ship from one of the Heterodox fleets!”

“So you’re not one of them?”

“Oh, no,” she said, surprised by Roche’s misunderstanding. “I’m from the Rond-Spellor Outlook, myself.” Catching Roche’s reaction, she went on with even more surprise: “You’ve heard of us! That makes us practically family around here.”

They reached the pillar, which turned out to be much thicker than Roche had first imagined; the lack of perspective was playing tricks on her eyes. Vischilglin waved a hand across a black panel and it slid silently open, revealing an elevator cab.

Roche hesitated outside. “Where are you taking us?”

“For debriefing,” said Vischilglin. “Don’t worry; you won’t come to any harm.”

“Sentiments I have had expressed to me in the past,” said Roche cynically, then added: “No offense.”

“None taken, I assure you,” said Vischilglin.

“I just want my crew to know, that’s all.”

Vischilglin nodded. “We’re aware that you’re in contact with them; we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Vischilglin stood on the threshold. “Is there anything we can do to put your mind at ease?’

Roche shook her head slowly. “I’m just habitually nervous these days, that’s all.”

“As you should be. I’m taking you to the secure areas on level 391. Your reave would have noted them already, I’m sure. We keep them shielded as best we can to keep word getting out. Maybe it’s effective; maybe it’s not. Either way, we have to try. But we’re not keeping secrets from our allies. That would be counterproductive. We’re just trying to maintain security against our common foe.”

“And do you know who
they
are?”

Vischilglin grimaced. “If you mean do we know their origins or the identities of the individuals, then no, I’m afraid not. But we are hoping you might be able to help us.” She indicated the interior of the elevator. “Won’t you?” she said. “They’re waiting.”

Roche forced herself to ignore the nagging uncertainty and stepped into the cab. Besides, what choice did she really have? If they wanted to spring a trap, then her position was already so compromised that she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, anyway.

Maii followed her in. As the doors closed, Vischilglin turned to the girl with an amused expression.

“You know, you’re free to remove that suit any time you like,” she said. When Maii didn’t respond she added: “I hate those things. Too confining, constricting—and they
chafe.
We have more suitable clothing if you’re uncomfortable.”

Maii asked. Vischilglin looked uneasy for a moment, and Roche suspected the girl had known the answer before she’d asked. “There is one, yes,” Vischilglin replied. Roche felt the slight tickle in her mind that meant the Box wanted to talk to her.

<1 thought you might like to know that the Rond-Spellor Outlook has been in a state of civil war for some weeks, now.>

af
fected.>

<1 have no reason to believe so. Neither her name nor her appearance match any in my database, and one must assume that any organization devoted to the investigation of the clone warriors would take precautions against such an infiltration. Nevertheless...>

The Box left the sentence unfinished, but the sentiment was clear.

she said.

she said.

The elevator didn’t seem to have moved, but when the doors opened a second or two later, an entirely different vista was spread out before them. Water from gentle waterfalls washed down numerous curved walls into undulating ground between them, collecting in valley floors to form small, slow-moving streams which curled and divided in unpredictable directions, some emptying into numerous ponds scattered about the area. The air was moist and sweet—scented, Roche suspected, by the various plants growing in the waters.

The banks of the waterways, however, were gray and sterile—a striking contrast to the exotic flowers and reeds. And high above it all hung featureless white clouds. The vista gave Roche the impression of an attempt at terraforming by a clerical AI.

She moved out of the elevator. “Is this the right level?” she asked.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Vischilglin stepped up beside Roche. “The waterways erode giant, mazelike circuits around the ship. Given enough time, the Heterodoxies believe they will one day spell out the name of God. Or something like that.” Vischilglin shrugged helplessly. “It all sounds like nonsense to me. Yet I can’t help admiring it whenever I see it.”

She led them through the strange landscape, across modest but elegant bridges and along the narrow valleys. As they climbed over each rise, Roche could clearly discern the curve of the floor beneath them; they were obviously higher along the cone than they had been before.

She realized then that nowhere on their journey had they seen another person.

The head of Maii’s suit rose when she spoke via epsense, uncannily as though she were looking at Roche. The visor was black, however, and the girl had no eyes to see with behind the white bandage she wore across her face; she was using Roche’s eyes to guide herself.

she said,

Maii said.

Roche received a mental impression of many minds congregated in one place, focusing intently on one thing. She couldn’t make out any individuals in that crowd, but she sensed their combined will. the girl went on.