Breakaway: A Cassandra Kresnov Novel (v1.1) (23 page)

Dali was reading a book when she entered, an empty teacup on the side table by his comfortable leather chair. Sunlight gleamed through the broad windows of his "cell," here on the fifty-fifth storey of the government-owned Andara Tower in mid-western Tanusha. The view behind was typically spectacular, agleam with mid-morning sunlight reflecting from tower glass. The heavy-security door clacked shut behind her, and she suffered a cold chill of remembrance, recalling just such a room in which she had been kept prisoner upon her first arrival on Callay.

Dali did not look up from his book. A raga was playing on the room audio system, a beautiful, ponderous meandering of minormelody and tabla-rhythms. He sat with long legs crossed, the book resting upon one cross-braced knee, a posture made easier by loose kameez-pyjama pants beneath his collarless tunic top. It was common enough attire for senior Indian bureaucrats, a comfortable, middling formality. Birth of the Pan-African Union, the book was entitled, although the author's name was Indian. She wondered if it had occurred to him that an African author might also have something interesting to say on the matter. And reckoned that no, considering Dali's background and reputation, it probably hadn't.

She stopped before the opposing chair. Dali made her wait for a full ten seconds. She was just about to take her seat anyway, when he looked up.

"Ms. Kresnov." With a blandness verging on disinterest. Dali had a long face, large nose and deep, dark eyes with drooping eyelids. It seemed to Sandy a face designed with disdainful expressions in mind. Although, perhaps Dali had merely had more practice than most. "Please have a seat. Would you like me to request a cup of tea for you? The staff here are most obliging."

"No, thank you, Mr. Dali."

"I believe the correct form of address is Governor Dali, my child," the Governor said mildly as she sat. "I have not been deprived of that position, whatever my present circumstance."

"Merely a matter of time, Governor."

Dali gave a long, deliberate shrug. "Perhaps. The wheels of administration do turn, even out here in the colonies."

It might have been bitterness. Or perhaps merely defiance, belittling the system that currently held him prisoner. It mattered little to Sandy either way.

"I know about your meeting with League officials out at Point Chavez," she said without preamble. Dali blinked at her in astonishment. "You were aboard the Federation transport vessel Mongolia, on your way back from Tokanagawa two years and four standard months ago. You sidetracked to Point Chavez and called it "technical difficulties" afterward. Mongolia's logs were mysteriously damaged in transit, which prevented jump time dilation from showing the extra, unscheduled jumps-I checked. During your meeting at Point Chavez, certain League officials discussed with you their plans for the infiltration mission that has landed you in this detention. I want to know who those people were and who was with them, and what you discussed."

Dali continued to stare at her for several long moments. Then he pursed his lips deliberately, carefully folded his book, and placed it on the small side table beside his empty teacup.

"Ms. Kresnov," he said with careful deliberation, "it is clear that your frontline infantry training has given you precious little preparation for the subtleties of politics and interviewing protocols. Even if such a fanciful tale were true, why on Earth should I ever choose to answer such incriminating accusations? This entire room is bugged by CSA operatives who hang upon my every word. I am hardly obliged by my role as Governor to say anything under such circumstances."

"What you say in here," Sandy said calmly, "is not permissible in a court of law. Only official statements taken by appointed legal offi cers are deemed admissible, anything else could be considered duress. I have sources, Governor Dali. League sources. Intelligence sources. Things that may reach my ears, you understand, that are not available to my CSA colleagues. The new government on Ryssa is trying to clean up the old mess. They're discovering many very interesting things regarding operations carried out by the old League for the infiltration of illegal biotech data into Federation corporations. Particularly in relation to clandestine cooperation with the FIA. Whom I believe you know very well indeed, Governor Dali."

No reply from Dali. No disdainful dismissals of her interviewing techniques, certainly. Strategy was her strong point. Seeing all the angles. She'd been good at politics even from the removed distance of Dark Star spec cps missions. Where covert strategies were concerned, the likes of Dali did not trouble her. She could handle him.

"The League are interested in Callay, Governor," she continued. "Especially considering our potential breakaway. Your little secrets are no longer safe with them."

"Young lady," Dali said with commendable firmness, "you would seriously believe what the League tells you? Surely you, of all people, would not be so foolish as to believe that the war has actually ended? Dear girl, it has merely been postponed to a more convenient date. The entire thirty year conflict that gave birth to you was nothing more than an opening skirmish. The League do not give up on their precious ideals so easily, they have no intention of remaining beholden to the interests of the Federation. They see in the present environment nothing more than an opportunity, a chance to split the Federation. They will lie and fabricate and obfuscate to their hearts' content to achieve their goals."

"A chance to split the Federation," Sandy echoed, "that you gave to them on a plate."

"I?" Blinking repeatedly, large eyes wide in feigned disbelief. Like an owl, Sandy recalled one of Vanessa's descriptions. "Ms. Kresnov, I am but a humble servant of the Federation. I serve at the wishes of my masters."

"I know." Her stare flat and entirely level. "That's just the problem."

The stare appeared to be having an effect. Dali swallowed, eyes darting briefly away, fidgeting at his collar. About his brow had appeared the faintest hint of perspiration, clearly visible with a simple spectrum shift. It happened with people who knew what she was. And feared it.

"You are wasting your time," he said shortly, recrossing his legs and shifting uncomfortably. "I am under no obligation to respond to such blatant lies and incriminatory accusations. I have nothing more to say to you. Good day, Ms. Kresnov." He picked up his book and made to recommence reading where he'd left off.

"The deaths you've caused don't bother you, do they?"

"People die, Ms. Kresnov, in all forms of conflict."

"The good guys aren't supposed to kill their own side."

"Good day, Ms. Kresnov."

"Do you know what the GSA's had me doing during much of my time here? I've been rechecking over this city's security protocols, particularly on network systems ... but also for physical defences." Dali stared determinedly at the pages of his book. "Physical defences such as these." She gestured about at the pleasant, spacious apartment. "Defending this place, this entire floor. They aren't very adequate, you know. You might imagine how much experience I've had breaking through defensive security considerably more imposing than this. I'm quite sure the FIA's better covert operations teams could break these defences if they chose.

"I wonder how badly they'd wish to stop you from testifying? It would be interesting to know, wouldn't it? You could do them a lot of damage if you did. And they've shown an alarming willingness to kill whoever gets in their way."

"You do not scare me, Ms. Kresnov." Not "young lady" now, Sandy noted with some satisfaction. "The Grand Council will allow no harm to come to me."

"The Grand Council control the FIA?" Sandy asked mildly. Dali blinked. "How interesting. Did the Grand Council then order the President assassinated?"

"Of course not ... !"

"Then the Grand Council don't control the FIA? Equally upsetting news, renegade Intelligence operatives running about killing people without the supervision or knowledge of the proper democratically elected authorities. And bad news for your own security, Governor, since the Grand Council evidently cannot protect you from these rampaging assassins. I could order these security mechanisms that protect you upgraded, you realise, if I were sufficiently persuaded of their inadequacy." A considered pause. "And if I were given sufficient reason to care."

"You would blackmail me?" With incredulous indignation, his book now forgotten in his lap. "With fear of my own life?"

"They're your people, Governor," Sandy said mildly. "You made your bed with them, you did their bidding, and now they give you cause to fear for your life. How is this my responsibility?"

Dali glared at her. Too proud a man, Sandy reckoned with cool calculation, to collapse in a heap and beg for mercy. So proud, in fact, that he felt obliged to defend, with great indignation, every perceived verbal slight to his dignity. It made him a very easy target.

"And what, pray tell," he said coldly, "shall be the trade-off in this dishonourable game of quid pro quo?"

"Your meeting at Chavez Point. Who did you meet with, and what did you discuss?"

"I admit to nothing of the kind," Dali said shortly. "I was frequently briefed by FIA operatives, because in my role as Governor I am frequently in need of input from Federal Intelligence. I heard speak of many covert League activities." His eyes narrowed. "It was a friend of yours who plotted the raid to kill the President, was it not? And now you suspect I had something to do with the planning of the operation that set him upon his course?

"I assure you that I did not. I did hear speak, however, of others. The League did not kill off all its inconveniently high-designation GIs, you surely realise. There were more besides your friend Mahud who survived the calamity of your Dark Star team that sent you fleeing to the Federation, Ms. Kresnov. Perhaps your contacts within the League Embassy here have determined to make use of your emotional connection, Ms. Kresnov, to gain your good favour, and perhaps to make you an unwitting accomplice to their bidding. Perhaps you should consider such possibilities more closely before running off to meetings with the Federal Governor because dear Mr. Yao of the Embassy sent you a friendly, helpful message."

She did not particularly admire Dali in any way. She certainly didn't like him. But for all that, she knew she couldn't accuse him of stupidity.

"And I assure you, Governor Dali," she said coolly, "that the very last thing that I'm emotionally vulnerable to is appeals to past loyalties from the League, new Administration or otherwise."

"So you say, Ms. Kresnov, so you say. And yet you came all this way, and took time from your doubtless very busy CSA schedule, to question me about meetings that involve persons to whom you had a close emotional attachment?"

He had not, she realised, heard of her suspension from CSA operations by the SIB-the "cell" was comfortable, yet very secure all the same. She had no wish to volunteer the information to him.

"No, Governor," she told him, "I did not come here merely for personal reasons. I came here to blackmail you, as you put it, with the knowledge of threats to your safety. The fact that elements within the League sent me that message at all demonstrates that your secrets are no longer safe with them. What I can find out, Federation member world governments will also find out-when I tell them. Momentum will be created through these revelations for your trial to take place here on Callay. The closer that day comes, the more alarmed your friends in the FIA will become. They will attempt to prevent you from testifying, one way or another. You know it, and I know it."

"You let them kill me," Dali said with great, trembling intensity, and you shall never learn the answers to the questions you seek."

"Oh, I think we may, Mr. Dali. If our League contacts continue to prove cooperative, and momentum among Federation worlds and within the bureaucracy, and among Grand Council reps, continues to swing our way, I think we may. Only, it will take a little longer ... and you will be dead. An inconvenience, but not an unmanageable one. Except for you, of course."

"You cannot threaten me in this way!" Dali smacked his book upon the side table, hard down upon the saucer rim, catapulting the teacup across the room to shatter upon the floor. Risen to his feet in the same movement, he towered over her, trembling with dark, quivering rage. "This is intolerable! This is against all conventions of civilised Federation law! People shall hear of this outrage!"

"That the FIA is prepared to kill you to silence you?" Sandy blinked up at him in mild surprise. "Surely that would only confirm all the member worlds' greatest fears? Are these ruthless assassinations a part of the civilised conventions of Federation law of which you speak? The people of Callay wish to be free from such civilised conventions, Mr. Dali. They tire of them.

"I am not the one threatening you, Mr. Dali. I am offering to protect you. It's your own people who are the present danger to your life. Your loyalty to them is admirable. But please tell me, how much loyalty does one owe to people who would kill you once you become inconvenient? I was faced with just such a decision once. I made what I believe was a civilised choice in the face of barbarity. I do not believe you can defend civilised notions through acts of barbarism. Evidently elements of the League and Federation security apparatuses disagree with me. As a man who professes to value the concept of civilisation in all its moral dimensions, I would ask you to think upon this, and reconsider your position."

"I will not," Dali hissed, "stand here and be lectured to on morality and humanity by a ... a ... a machine!"

Sandy was on her feet so fast she was in Dali's face before he'd even registered her movement.

"I'm trying to be nice to you, you little piece of shit," she said in the deadly, frozen calm that followed. Dali's eyes were wide, fear stark and plain upon his face, his breath frozen, pupils dilated. "I could kill you so fast you'd be in little pieces scattered about this room before you realised what was happening. There's a part of me that wants to. But I won't do it. I choose not to, for my own reasons, despite all that you and your sordid little plans have done to me and people I love. Organic biology doesn't give you a monopoly on humanity or morality, you bigoted lunatic. I'm better than you. I don't believe any cause is worth murderous criminality to perpetuate. Your time is over. The only question is whether you're going to come out of it alive, and on the winning side-or dead. Your choice. What's it going to be?"