The Departure (58 page)

“But some will get thrown free?”

Saul shook his head. “No, I’m going to use only a gradual increase in thrust. Inside the cylinder there will simply be an increasing fluctuation in apparent gravity, from half a gee to one and a half gees. There’ll inevitably be damage to some plants—an approximate fifteen per cent loss—but we can live with that. Anything else?”

“That about covers it for now, Dir—” Le Roque paused, looking uncomfortable.

“I do not like the title ‘Director,’” said Saul, sharply. “It’s got too many unpleasant associations.” Another reflective pause. “Call me by my name but, if you’re not comfortable with that, then refer to me as the Owner—because I own this station now.”

Le Roque merely nodded, then watched while Saul led Hannah towards the exit, the spidergun falling in behind them and now moving with a spooky fluidity it had not possessed earlier.

“Where now?” Hannah asked.

“Arcoplex One—I want this resolved before we round the Moon.”

Once out of the control room, she queried, “The Owner?”

“For all our lives, everything we’ve laid hands on has been considered the property of the state. Even our own bodies were considered thus. But no more.” He turned towards her, his face a mask pinned by weirdly pink eyes. “Decisions, power, responsibility, Hannah. I am now the most powerful here and therefore the most free, yet inevitably, I am also the least free because I bear the most responsibility.”

“That still doesn’t explain it.”

She caught a glimpse of irritation in his expression.

“I am now in charge and, whether I want it or not, I have the power of life and death over all those here with me, because I physically and mentally
own
this station, which is the only thing keeping them alive. In fact this entire station now feels to me just like an extension of my own body. It’s something I will not give up, which is something they all need to be reminded of, and the title I’ve chosen does exactly that. I won’t call myself Director, Delegate, Chairman, Governor or King. From now on I’m the Owner—that is enough.”

Arrogance or truth? Perhaps both. Hannah just did not know for sure. Maybe his choice of title incorporated a degree of calculation that went beyond what he could easily express to her. She wondered if the irritation he had just shown was due to her tardy comprehension, though more likely it was because she still refused to sentence seventy-nine people to death.

They collected their helmets at the airlock and were soon back outside in the main station. Here Hannah could see crews busily engaged, welding arcs faring blue light across the lattice walls, work lights glaring white and casting black angular shadows, one-man EVA units moving ponderously here and there amidst the rapid insectile precision of countless robots.

“This is not going to be a democracy,” Saul reminded her over com.

“That’s a political system that probably can’t work satisfactorily out in space,” Hannah admitted. “It has to be a Captain and his crew.” Then she couldn’t help adding, “Or the Owner and the owned.”

Saul merely snorted.

As they reached the base of Arcoplex One, two more spiderguns approached them down the length of the cylinder, like dogs eager to greet their masters, joining them just as Saul and Hannah propelled themselves up towards the endcap. The spiderguns proceeded first through the airlock, but on the other side Hannah saw no one they needed guarding against. She reached up to detach her helmet, but Saul caught her arm.

“The levels of putrescence in the air here have risen substantially,” he advised. “Better remove it when we are a little further in.”

Only then did Hannah notice the flies gathered around the blood-crusted mouth of a nearby corpse.

“Are all Messina’s people confined in here now?” she asked, as they moved away from the mounded bodies and along a concave street.

“They’re all here,” he confirmed. “Messina and his delegates broke off for a recess after two hours of
exhausting
debate, and they have now secured themselves suitable apartments after ordering their staff to clear them of the previous occupants. Some of the staff even started using a digester to dispose of the corpses, but were ordered to desist until the Committee came to a decision on the matter.”

“Are they total idiots?”

“No, just mentally hardwired, still adhering to the old hierarchy—whilst Messina himself can’t accept that he now rules nothing.”

It seemed they were now far enough away from the endcap, because Saul removed his VC helmet and hung it from a hook on his belt. As Hannah removed her own, she detected some of the stink. Perhaps those already here for a while hadn’t noticed the smell increasing. But they would definitely notice once the corpses began crawling with maggots.

Ahead, now, Hannah could see people on the move, all of them heading for a large building extending right up to the central spindle of the cylinder. Many of them kept looking back towards her and Saul, while trying to propel themselves along faster. She glanced at Saul questioningly.

“I ordered them all to their conference chamber. The place has room to contain all of them, and is equipped with large screens.”

“And what images will you display on them?”

“Enough, let’s hope, to burn out some of that hardwiring.”

***

Govnet opened up like a whore eager to get her business over with, and virally dispatching copies of the programs he was running aboard the station proved easier still. He particularly needed to shift round vast blocks of data, but not necessarily in his own mind, so he just hijacked a range of computer systems down on Earth and let them do the work instead. All this meant was that it would all take just a little longer to kick off. Essentially he was doing, on a vaster scale, what he had already done aboard the station at large, and this time no other comlife stood in his way. Leaving processes running, he now focused a small proportion of his attention elsewhere.

“Langstrom,” he said, uttering the name merely in his mind, as he saw the new Security Director suiting up along with forty of his men.

Langstrom looked up. “I hear you.”

“I want you positioned at the base of Arcoplex One. Some people will be coming out soon, and I want them escorted to their assigned quarters both inside the ring and in the worker units situated within the lattice walls. I’ve already sent the details to your palmtop.”

“Chairman Messina?” Langstrom prompted.

“Is not your concern.”

Saul refocused his attention on the activity within Arcoplex One.

Delegates arriving in the conference chamber were obviously annoyed to see so many others present and started gesturing back to the walls any who had the temerity to gather about the tiers of horseshoe tables and chairs. No sign of Messina there—he was still in his apartment questioning two of his bodyguards about where the other two had gone. The missing pair were already in the chamber, one clutching the hand of his young daughter whilst the other leant back against the wall, arms folded and his expression sour. Saul had already checked on an earlier discussion between them, whose content was little different from so many he had already heard. Messina was fucked, they had agreed, and now the time had come for them to look after themselves. Out of curiosity, Saul reviewed the data on these two men. The one called Ghort, leaning against the wall, had not actually killed anyone, so under Hannah’s terms was salvageable. Unfortunately the one with the daughter had eagerly dispensed Messina’s personal justice in the past, and even kept image files of the proceedings.

Finally Saul and Hannah themselves reached the entrance to the building containing the conference chamber. There he paused, gazing along the length of the arcoplex. It seemed not all had answered his summons. Two were in fact hiding nearby, in a room where they had first smashed all the cams. A recorded video showed them entering the place, while the station net had registered the toilet being used only a minute ago.

“If you do not both go to the conference chamber straight away, I will have to send a spidergun after you,” he announced loudly, via the intercom inside their refuge. Hannah turned to him in puzzlement, then swung her gaze to follow his. After a minute a door opened and a couple of people propelled themselves out. They abandoned their hide at a reluctant pace, but speeded up once they registered the spiderguns.

“There, that’s all of them,” declared Saul, folding his arms.

“We were—” began Delegate Margot Le Blanc, as she approached him with her bodyguard.

Saul waved her inside. “I don’t care what you were. And that’s something you’ll all have to learn very quickly.”

“Very well.” Delegate Le Blanc swept on past, her dignity somewhat diminished by her lack of experience in using gecko boots.

After a moment, Saul dispatched one of the spiderguns after her, while simultaneously watching through cams as Messina finally quit his apartment and entered the conference chamber. The Chairman took the prime seat at the horseshoe tables, and only when properly seated with his two remaining bodyguards behind him did he gesture imperiously and the delegates took their seats. As Le Blanc hurried in and sat down, Messina eyed her calculatingly. He seemed just about to say something, but then the spidergun entered. Some delegates leapt from their seats and began backing off, while an uproar arose among the surrounding crowd as they retreated further against the walls.

Saul grinned. “Let’s go.”

Entering the lobby, they climbed a spiral stair two floors up, then took a short corridor to the double doors leading into the chamber. These had meanwhile swung closed, muffling the uproar inside. This entire building, Saul had discovered, had been planned as the Committee base inside the station. The three tiers of horseshoe tables within the chamber had seating for no more than a hundred and fifty, so it seemed to have been intended for Messina and his core delegates only. Whether the remaining delegates were due to have been assassinated, or just abandoned on Earth, he did not know. He stepped up to the doors, with Hannah at his side and the second spidergun close behind.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“You’ve not made your decision,” he replied, pausing, “and I now realize you may be incapable of making one.”

“But it’s not my decision,” she said. “You’ve already decided that Messina and the rest must die, and you just want me to confirm that.”

“No, I want you to perceive the correct course.” He turned to her, wishing he could force her into seeing what was so plain to him. “Tell me, if we were back on Earth, with unlimited resources, what would you do with them there?”

“Try them, then send them to prison for life,” she replied. “They’re guilty of too much wrongdoing to ever be released, and if they were released they would only scrabble for power again. They would never be genuinely useful.”

“So a trial would be irrelevant because you already know they are guilty. It would just paint a gloss of justice over a course of action that is already just.”

“Some might be innocent…”

“No, not among the seventy-nine.”

Hannah shrugged, looked away.

He continued, “This Argus Station is not Earth, and its resources are severely limited. Keeping this lot alive, whilst they contribute nothing, would definitely mean others here dying. So what is the right decision?”

With her face still averted, she replied, “They should die.” She then turned to him, her expression registering shock at her own words. Doubtless she was now telling herself that she was equally as bad as those she had judged. He tried not to feel contempt for her weakness.

“I am glad to hear you say that at last. Now consider this point: It has been within your power to sentence those people to death, but it is also within your power to allow them to live—and within your power alone. When the time is right, I am going to ask you whether I can offer them the choice.”

She was clearly confused, for she hadn’t yet seen that other option, but eventually she would.

He continued, “As for what I want you to do now, just go wherever you feel comfortable.”

“I’d feel more comfortable not being here.”

He glanced at her. “Which was exactly the position of many decision makers within the Committee who had dissidents killed or drew up the plans for sectoring.”

Hannah showed further discomfort at that statement, but stayed by his side as he pushed open the double doors and strode through, heading straight out into the middle of the chamber. Behind him, he had one of the robots remain on guard at the door, whilst the second climbed the wall and scuttled across the ceiling, positioning itself up above like some macabre chandelier. The uproar quickly waned, for they were frightened, but from Saul’s presence they now knew they weren’t facing instant extinction.

For a moment he scanned the faces all around him. Seated as many were, they obviously felt themselves to be in a superior position, but no matter. In a bit of theatre, he waved his hand, and the six massive screens ranged high on the walls all around the room flickered on. The views he chose for three of the screens were the same as those displayed previously in Tech Central: one of Earth from the station, another of Earth from cams on the Argus satellites, and finally a view of some of the satellites themselves.

Messina cleared his throat. “What can we do for you, citizen?”

Most of those present were wearing fones, but some were not. Saul nodded towards a fourth screen, routeing through to it a list of the names of everyone in the chamber, excluding the seventy-nine. “There are one hundred and fifteen of you here who are, from the available evidence, not directly responsible for the murder of citizens you governed. You will see your names are on this list and, as soon as I have finished here, you may depart forthwith to quarters assigned to you.”

“Doubtless my name is not there,” said Messina.

Saul turned to face him. “No, it is not.”

“So you intend to kill me and everyone else not on your precious list,” Messina suggested, with lazy contempt.

“That decision is not mine, and has yet to be made.” Saul eyed him steadily. “Some seem to find it more difficult to pass a death sentence than you do, Alessandro Messina.”