Expatria: The Box Set (12 page)
Read Expatria: The Box Set Online
Authors: Keith Brooke
Outside a pair of high wooden doors a gaggle of officials congested the corridor. Sukui was there, and one or two others Mathias knew from Alabama City. There were also a number of strangers, their clothing looser and of a cruder cut. One of them was Captain Anderson, looking greyer, his face deeply creased. He nodded at Mathias and then looked away.
Sukui broke away from a discussion with a junior and hurried over to stand by Mathias. 'I told you not to mix with Axelmeyer,' he hissed. 'The Prime is greatly displeased.'
Sukui stopped and took a deep breath. Looking around, he adjusted his skullcap and stood up even straighter. 'It is time,' he said aloud. Everybody looked around and a guard opened the double doors. Then, to Mathias, he whispered, 'I have done what, I can. You must be rational.'
The conference room was much like every other room Mathias had seen in Salvo Andric's palace. It was wide and tall, its walls were painted brightly, there were decorated columns and pilasters, and heavy velvet blinds were drawn back from the windows. Set in the centre of the room was a vast table; seated at one side was Andric and at the other, Edward Olfarssen-Hanrahan, looking strangely accustomed to his Primal finery. He had put on weight since Mathias had last seen him, and his features had matured beyond measure.
The attendants filed into the room and sat in banks of chairs at either side of the wide table. Edward glanced along the rows of faces, past Mathias and on along the line. Suddenly his head jerked and he looked back again, finally recognising his half-brother.
Mathias met his gaze without flinching. He still felt safe in Alabama City, despite Sukui's strange warning.
Sukui stood and moved to just behind Andric's left shoulder. 'Lords, attendants. I call to order the third and final session of a most satisfactory set of discussions. At Prime Hanrahan's request, there will follow a summary of agreements reached to date. The fishing fleet of...'
Mathias stared out of the window at the pale blue sky; still no clouds in sight. As Sukui talked, Mathias worked out the location of this room in relation to the rest of the Capitol. After a few minutes he smiled. He had been right: a dish could be pointed at the correct angle through that window to receive the signals from orbit. He returned his attention to the proceedings.
Sukui was still talking. '...a seven-month conditional posting of an observer unit in each of Alabama City and Newest Delhi, to be commenced upon signature of this Treaty of Accord...' Mathias stared out of the window again, wondering why he had been called to attend this session. It seemed that it would consist entirely of Sukui reading from this 'Treaty of Accord'—hostilities would cease, not that they had ever been official, of course; trade would be encouraged; free passage of citizens would be allowed, by permit; and it would all be supervised by an observer unit in each capital. Mathias was pleased that the troubles were over, because it would allow the Project to continue and it would remove the obstacles to Sukui informing Andric about the Orbitals and the ship from Earth. But also it made him even more eager to get back to his work. He sat back in his seat and wondered how long the session would last.
Sukui continued for nearly an hour. It had been a productive summit.
Then he paused and looked across at Mathias. 'Now,' he said. 'We come to a matter raised by the good Lord, Prime Edward Olfarssen-Hanrahan, at last night's closed session. May I suggest the good Lord might continue?' He bowed his head and backed away from the conference table.
Edward tipped his chair back on two legs and looked around the room. 'Yes,' he said. 'The summit has been productive. But I have one last request to make of you, Salvo. It is a personal matter.
'Seated in this room is the man who murdered my father.' Edward glowered at Mathias, then smiled sweetly at Andric. 'This summit would be sealed on a most...
positive
note if you would be as good as to grant extradition of this man for trial in Newest Delhi. Although this is not a condition of the treaty, please, Salvo, allow justice to be done.'
Mathias studied his half-brother's face.
Edward had acquired a certain confidence from his time in office, but he was still the same: slippery, underhand. No, it was not a condition of the treaty, but everyone in that room knew the treaty was worthless if this final 'request' was not granted.
Mathias glanced across at Salvo Andric. The Prime was talking quietly with Sukui. He looked up and met Mathias's gaze, then looked at Edward. 'You raised this point last night,' he said, and then paused. 'This individual has caused trouble even here, but that is no confession of guilt. No, no'—he raised his hands to ward off Edward's objections—'I do not wish to cast judgement on this case.
'This individual has become particularly troublesome in recent weeks and I confess that it is a great temptation to ship him back to Newest Delhi. I have considered the matter at length, since you mentioned it to me.' He looked at Mathias. 'I am glad you do not make this a condition of the treaty,' he continued. 'Because this individual is an adopted citizen of Alabama City. If his choice is to remain here then I would not wish to interfere.'
Sukui bowed his head to Mathias. This was clearly what he had meant by his warning and the comment that he had done what he could.
Edward was looking at Mathias as, it seemed, was everyone in the room. 'Of course,' said Edward, 'this is no
condition
. But it would greatly ease relations between our two great nations. A fair trial in Newest Delhi would remove one remaining source of conflict. What do you say, Mathias Hanrahan? Have you acquired the integrity to stand up for what you have done?'
Andric was looking at him, too. It was clearly expected that he should reply. He had not expected the Prime's backing, even as strained as it clearly was.
A voice was clamouring in the back of Mathias's mind, telling him that he could stay in Alabama City.
He wanted to laugh, the tension inside him was so great. He could stay! He thought of the Project, of the need to disclose the existence of the Orbitals and the ship from Earth. Things were at a delicate stage.
Mathias stood.
'I am greatly indebted to the good Lord, Prime Salvo Andric, for his hospitality and fairness,' he said. 'I feel duty-bound to accept Edward Olfarssen's offer of a trial—I trust it will be fair, as he claims: I have nothing to hide.' The voice was still clamouring in the back of his head, screaming, bouncing around the inside of his skull, demanding to know why he had sealed his fate in such a way.
He shook his head angrily, trying to still the voice, and sat down.
The Project was at such a delicate stage—if hostilities were resumed then communication with the Orbitals might easily stumble at the first obstacle. By returning to Newest Delhi peace would be secured and the Project could continue.
Mathias looked across at Sukui. His self-control had won. It was the rational decision.
~
'Decker, we have to talk—I don't have much time.' It was strange how quickly Decker had become the one person Mathias could talk to. But now there was more than just talking to do, he had to try to explain the situation so that his sacrifice would be more than an empty gesture.
Mathias had returned to Dixie Hill. It had been late and the others—Helena and Sunny—had left immediately. Nobody liked the idea of staying with a condemned man.
It was all very civilised. Troopers had not seized him as soon as he had announced his decision. He had been given until dawn, then he would join Edward's delegation to begin the journey back to Newest Delhi. Until then he was free, although he felt sure no one would let him leave Alabama. Not now.
The summit had not lasted long after Mathias had spoken. Captain Anderson had informed him of the arrangements and then he had found himself in the corridor with Sukui. 'It took a great deal to convince the Lord to offer you freedom,' Sukui had said, still talking in the restrained manner he had employed in the conference room. 'I expected you to take the opportunity. Would you explain?'
'The Project is at a delicate stage,' Mathias replied. 'You know that. If I don't go back Edward will escalate the troubles until I'm faced with the same decision later on.'
'I think you judge your half-brother accurately. Your future is important to him.'
'You have to let people know about the real situation. If I can win you peace for a time, then maybe things will work out. If not... well, the ship from Earth will arrive amid a war with no one waiting to meet them. You have to spread the word, Sukui-san.
That's
why I did this.'
Sukui had stopped to stare at him. 'Mathias Hanrahan,' he said. 'You have become a rational man.' Then they had parted and Mathias returned to the research hut.
He slept little, that night. He didn't really try. All he wanted was to play the blues with the Monotones. He could play the slap drums, maybe relearn the mouth-organ. He would work at it. He knew, now, that he would work at it.
The time just before sunrise was the worst.
Mathias sat with his back to the wooden slats of the hut, watching the sky slowly grow pale. A bank of clouds was riding in from the sea, the Niño finally having given way to more conventional currents; the sun, although still hanging below the horizon, picked out the edges of the clouds, made them silver with tinges of gold. Gradually, colour seeped into the mid-grey of the morning sky, like blood spreading through a puddle.
'Matt? You listening?'
Mathias leapt to his feet and then hurried in to the microphone. Decker was on TV, looking around as if he was trying to peer out. 'Matt, are you there?'
'Decker, I'm here. Thanks for calling.'
'Trouble?'
'You could put it that way. Listen, I won't be speaking to you again. I have to go away.'
'What's happening?'
'It's a diplomatic affair. The details aren't important. You'll be dealing with the others, from now. I guess it'll be Sukui—if you need someone more sympathetic you could ask for a friend of mine: Lui Tsang.' Mathias heard footsteps outside; time was leaking away. There was so much he had wanted to say. 'Decker, I have to go now. Remember: the only way to make any progress down here is to
be
here. The people have to see you if they're going to believe in you.'
'Sure, Matt. But—'
The door opened and a leather-clad trooper looked inside. There were two more standing on the grassy slope, a short distance away. The trooper looked around the room—her eyes skipping over the face on the TV screen as if it didn't exist—and cleared her throat. 'Mathias Hanrahan?' she said. 'Would you step this way?'
'You know my name, Louisa.' The trooper looked uncomfortable. She stood aside as Mathias stepped past.
Behind him he heard Decker's voice raised. 'Hey! What's going on? What's happening?'
Mathias turned and called to the microphone, despite Louisa's strange looks. 'I have to go now.'
He just heard Decker say, 'Not now! Hey, what was that name? Hey come back! Come—' and then the door shut softly, cutting off his words. Mathias glanced at the blank-faced troopers and then, sadly, he began his journey back to the city of his birth.
Chapter 15
As he watched Mathias Hanrahan walk away from the last meeting of the summit, Kasimir Sukui bowed his head in disbelief. The Lord Salvo had informed him of Edward's demand the previous night. It had taken great effort to convince the Prime that Mathias shouldn't simply be handed over as a part of the Treaty of Accord. 'He works well in the laboratories,' Sukui had said, struggling to justify himself. 'He has acquired a strong element of discipline in his thoughts. I expect—'
'What of discipline in his
actions
, eh?' The Prime had been walking irritably around the High Office, pulling at his beard and twisting it in his fingers.
'Sir, I fear you overestimate the significance of Hanrahan's behavioural aberrations.' Contradicting the Prime had been a calculated risk, but it had worked. The Lord Salvo had let the comment slip by and, after a moment or two more of brisk pacing, had said that his decision was to give Mathias the choice, even though the treaty would founder if Edward did not get his hands on his half-brother.
And, against all the odds, Mathias had agreed to a trial in Newest Delhi.
Sukui had confronted him when the final session ended. 'It took a great deal to convince the Lord to offer you freedom,' he had said. 'I expected you to take the opportunity. Would you explain?'
Mathias had acted rationally. He had assessed the likely effects of choosing to remain in Alabama City; Edward Olfarssen-Hanrahan would almost certainly be spurred on to greater aggression if he was slighted in such a manner. Mathias had given his life to save the Project.
Now, as Mathias disappeared around a corner in the corridor, Sukui was still stunned. Mathias had asked him to spread word of the Orbitals and the ship from Earth. That would have been the next step anyway, but now Sukui felt there was an added urgency. He felt that he should give Mathias's sacrifice meaning. The vague, emotive term 'honour' came to his mind.
Maybe it was not such a bad term. Maybe it could be interpreted as a rational reason for action; he would have to consider the matter.
Sukui headed for the side office where he was to meet Lars Anderson. He opened the door and the Captain of the Hanrahan Guard was already there, resting against a desk, arms folded across his chest. Sukui noted the reserve etched across Anderson's lined face. The two of them were probably of a similar age, both had reached the pinnacle of their careers within the respective Primal households.
Sukui bowed his head. 'Captain Anderson,' he said. 'I requested this meeting so we could discuss the terms of the observer units—yes, I am aware that Captain Mahler is responsible for sending our unit to Newest Delhi, but I will share responsibility for your unit in Alabama City.' Sukui filled two tiny crystal goblets with liqueur and handed one to the captain. Anderson nodded, but his expression remained unaltered. 'But first, there is a subsidiary matter I wish to raise.' Sukui glanced up at Anderson's face, but the captain was no help. 'The trial of Mathias Hanrahan.' For the first time Anderson's expression faltered. 'You will be aware of the faith he is placing in the judicial system of Newest Delhi, in returning for trial. It would be a great dishonour, not only to Mathias, but to the Prime of Alabama City, if the trial should be coloured by... pre-judicial influence.'
Anderson waited for him to finish. He drank his liqueur in one swallow. 'Sukui-san,' he said. 'I've not known you for long, but from what I
do
know, you must be aware that you've just insulted the entire power structure of the Primacy of Newest Delhi. But you've done it in private and I'll do you the justice of replying. As Captain of the Guard I have influence but you must know the Prime is
Prime
.
'No, the trial isn't going to be fixed. I knew Mathias well—or I thought I did—and I knew March better. If Mathias is innocent then you can be assured I'll look out for his interests. If not... well all I can say is that justice will be done. Now: the observer units.'
Sukui nodded. The units had been his own idea but he had fed it to the Prime; that was sometimes the best way to get things done. To ensure the smooth progress of the reforms stipulated by the treaty there was to be a unit of observers posted in each capital city. Sukui had suggested that the units should consist of trusted advisers, perhaps to be headed by a senior figure from the militias. The leader had to be someone with a shrewd tactical mind, capable of seeing through any subterfuge and also of co-ordinating the unit in its functions. The units should be put in place at the earliest opportunity. Sukui had put forward a convincing case.
'Our unit will remain here when we leave,' said Anderson. 'We have the available personnel. There may be some exchange later, when we can assess the requirements more accurately.' He reeled off a list of fifteen names, along with duties and roles in the unit. They had organised themselves quickly.
'And who will head your unit?' asked Sukui.
'Lucilla Ngota, an attached officer in the Primal Guard. She—'
'I have encountered Miz Ngota,' said Sukui. His heart was beating so loud he thought that perhaps Captain Anderson could hear it. He tried to calm himself. Lucilla Ngota. She was a trusted member of the Primal household, she had been given assignments in foreign territory before, she had a shrewd tactical mind.
She had been the most probable choice.
~
The following morning, as the sun rose, Kasimir Sukui was out in the streets of Alabama City. He had slept little. He had been plagued by thoughts of Lucilla Ngota and Mathias Hanrahan and strange aliens that landed and said they were humans from Earth.
Walking through a back street in Soho, he spotted broken windows and slogans painted on walls. The vandalised building had housed one of the Project's laboratories, Life Sciences Experimental. Sukui paused and drew a notebook from a fold in his robes and a pencil from under the rim of his skullcap. The slogans said 'Prime Folly' and 'Dark Practiss' and 'Old Ways Old'. He noted down the details. The Conventists had been out, celebrating the announcement of the treaty with the north. The undercurrent of fundamentalism that had always been a part of Alabama City was surging now, encouraged by the newly forged links with the Prime of Newest Delhi. It appeared that one conflict was about to be replaced by another. It was a situation that warranted close observation. Sukui tucked the pencil back into his cap and the notebook into his robe, then walked on.
For the first time in weeks, he had a few hours to himself. There were no meetings to arrange or attend, no consultations, no need to be in the Capitol just in case the Prime should require him at short notice. He wanted to go to Dixie Hill, but he hesitated. He looked at the sky and noted that the sun had cleared the horizon. Mathias should be under arrest and on his way back to Newest Delhi by now.
He gave himself a few more minutes. He did not wish to see Mathias being marched away under guard; he would leave his pupil that dignity, at least.
Finally, he headed for Dixie Hill. He had to contact the Orbital Colonies; he needed more information before he could consider informing the Prime.
The research hut had originally been quite modest, but two annexes had been added to house the stores of artefacts. The wooden slats had been coated with preservative at some time in the past, but even at a distance Sukui could see several areas that were rotten and crumbling away. The dish, two metres wide, sat atop the hut's roof; it looked dirty and grey but Sukui knew that did not impair the device's functioning.
Through the hut's small windows, Sukui could see that the researchers were already there. He passed through the open door and Sanjit Borodin greeted him with a nod. The atmosphere in the hut was subdued and quiet. Irrationally, Sukui did not want to disturb it by talking so he stood for a time and looked around at what was being done.
Eventually he cleared his throat and spoke. 'Everybody, will you gather around?' They stopped their work and moved closer. 'Our efforts must continue, they must transcend personal feelings. We have two priorities: we must consider renewing contact with the Orbitals and we must, I think, endeavour to complete the visual side of communications. For full communication both sides must be on an equal footing. Does anyone have any suggestions?'
The hut was silent.
'Mathias did what he did so this work could continue,' said Sukui. 'We must do our best.'
'We'd be best to ask Decker for ideas,' said Sun-Ray Sidhu. 'They're centuries ahead of—'
'Decker?' asked Sukui, suddenly realising that he was at least one step behind everyone else. 'Who is this "Decker"?' But he already knew the most probable candidate for the name.
Sun-Ray glanced around guiltily. The others studied the ground, except for Lui Tsang, who stared defiantly back at Sukui.
'Who is Decker?' Sukui repeated.
'He's the guy in orbit who you spoke to,' said Tsang.
'We did not exchange names,' said Sukui.
'He called us when you were in conference,' said Tsang. 'He spoke with Mathias.'
Sukui recalled one of his earliest impressions of Hanrahan:
trouble
. He had been consistent in that one respect, at least. What complications had this illicit communication created?
'You must all remember the importance of what is happening in this hut,' said Sukui. 'Our knowledge must be treated with maximum caution.'
'And you are the only one capable of that?'
The interruption had come from Tsang. 'From what has been happening up here, that would appear to be the case,' said Sukui. 'Lui Tsang, you are bitter today. We all feel the loss of Mathias but we must continue: his action must not become without purpose. By all means blame me—as you appear to do—but do not let your emotions interfere with your work. You can be replaced.' He could not. In all his time in the Project, Sukui had never encountered a talent greater than Lui Tsang's; the youth was a hard worker, too. Tsang's shoulders slumped and, finally, he stopped glowering at Sukui. He would grow calmer, after a time: he had backed down at a crucial juncture and Sukui knew from experience that this meant his rebellion was not a serious one. 'I repeat: does anybody have any ideas about the visual link?'
Sanjit Borodin stood and bowed to Sukui. He was a poor scientist but a good organiser; the decision to put him in charge of this team had been a good one. 'Before you arrived, Sukui-san,' he said, 'Lui was talking about the possibility of connecting the trifacsimile into the system. Rather than a face on a flat screen we might manage a fully dimensional face in projection.' Borodin sat down again.
Sukui raised his eyebrows at Tsang.
'It might work,' said Tsang, not looking at Sukui. 'We should discuss it with Decker.'
'It is an innovative suggestion,' said Sukui. 'But not, at this juncture, a practical one. The trifacsimile is in this hut. We already have the capability to receive visual signals from orbit. Our current problem is sending visual signals to
them
. We need some kind of "camera".' He had learnt the word from his reading. 'We do not even know that they would be able to send the correct input for a Toshiba trifacsimile.'
'But there's already a kind of camera in the trifax,' said Tsang. 'Anyway, they're centuries ahead of us—they'll have the capabilities to take whatever we send them.'
'Decker has told you this? I thought not. Lui, I am not dismissing your suggestion. I simply point out that we must work within the bounds of what we know: they send us pictures on a TV screen, therefore they must have facilities for receiving such input.'
Sukui turned to Borodin. 'Sanjit,' he said. 'We must contact our friends in orbit. This Decker may be of use at this stage.'
~
The response was quick, no more than four minutes by Kasimir Sukui's reckoning. He had been prepared for a longer delay.
Decker could hardly be expected to wait by his receiver at all times.
'This is Kasimir Sukui, scientific adviser to the Prime of Alabama City,' he had said. 'I wish to talk with you, Decker.' Then he had waited with his researchers, watching the dancing greys of the screen. Only Lui Tsang had feigned indifference, annotating the pages of a textbook and looking only occasionally at the screen.
Sukui's call was repeated by disc-recording and, four minutes later, the screen flickered and came to life. It was the same man Sukui had spoken to initially, this Decker. He swallowed his distaste for the man; it was irrational, it had no place in the scientific mind.
'You are, I presume, Decker?' asked Sukui. 'My name is Kasimir Sukui, scientific adviser to the—'
'Yeah, yeah,' said Decker. 'I heard your call-up. Would you explain what happened down there? I was talking to Matt and then it sounded like someone came for him and he left. I heard a name mentioned—what's Matt's name? Where's he from originally?'
So Hanrahan was to be an obstacle in this, too. 'His name is Mathias Hanrahan. He vacated his claim to the Primacy of Newest Delhi a little over three and a half years ago amid a degree of scandal. Now he has returned to face the consequences of that scandal.'
Decker was nodding slowly. 'So he
is
,' he said, to one side. 'What about this Hanrahan clan? How big is it?'
'The political clan is large, the genetic family small. Mathias has a half-brother, now Prime of Newest Delhi.' Sukui wanted to get back to matters in hand; he could see no reason why Decker should be so interested in Mathias. 'They are the end of the Hanrahan line. Mathias's father had a reputation for care in the matter of bastards. Edward's mother taught him that lesson. Edward has produced no heirs, so the line is at an end. Now...'
Decker had turned away from the screen. He was talking to someone who occasionally edged into the picture. 'Kasimir Sukui,' he said. 'I'm sorry for my abruptness and what must seem kind of a strange line of questioning. This revelation is of great importance to us. I don't know if Mathias told you of the problems my friends have been having in convincing people out here about the situation. This could just win the case for us. Let me explain. Do you know the story behind Ha'an's—August Hanrahan's—escape from Expatria?'
