Gamerunner (12 page)

Then he heard Daed’s voice, and he leant forward, forgetting where he was.

Chapter 11

Daed said, ‘Hello. Can I come in?’

‘Of course,’ Perdita said. ‘You don’t have to ask.’

‘Thanks,’ Daed said, and then there was nothing.

Rick waited, wondering what was going on. Perdita said, ‘Is there something . . . ?’

‘Just checking on your progress,’ Daed said. ‘The iTank all on target, is it?’

‘Time yes, budget no,’ Perdita said, ‘as always. Don’t tell me you walked all the way down here to ask that?’

A pause. ‘No,’ Daed said. ‘No.’

‘Tea? I’ll put the boiler on.’

‘Kettle,’ Daed said. ‘A boiler was something else. No, thank you.’ There was a rustle, as if he was getting something out of his pocket, and a little crackle, like foil. ‘A glass of water would be nice, though.’

Water running, footsteps. Perdita said, ‘Headache?’

‘Not exactly.’ Daed swallowed and coughed. A chair grated on the floor. ‘May I?’

‘Oh, shut up, Daed,’ Perdita said. ‘Why are you being so polite? We’re friends, aren’t we?’

Daed laughed, a little. He said, ‘OK.’

‘So,’ Perdita said. ‘You didn’t want to vidcall whatever it is, so . . .’

‘You’ve disabled your bugs, presumably?’

‘I’m a Creative, Daed. I disable bugs as a hobby.’ A moment of silence. Then she added, ‘But —’ and Rick knew she’d remembered, suddenly, that he was listening.

‘But what?’ Daed said.

‘But . . . Maintenance were in here a few days ago, and I haven’t swept since then.’ She was lying, and she was rubbish.

‘Never mind,’ Daed said, and laughed. The laugh was breathy and voiceless, like his lungs weren’t working properly. ‘Who cares? I came to pick your brains, that’s all.’

‘About the iTank? The technology hasn’t advanced much since my report. If you talk to —’

‘I wasn’t thinking of the technology, exactly.’

Silence. Rick heard water bubbling in the kettle, and footsteps. Then it clicked off, and he imagined Perdita at the workbench, mashing the teabag with a spoon, her back to Daed. She said, ‘Since when did you need my brain for anything else?’

‘Since Rick ran the Roots and screwed up my masterplan,’ Daed said.

Another pause. Rick imagined Perdita staying still, where she was; but when she spoke, her voice was clearer, like she’d turned round. ‘
Rick
ran the Roots?’ she said.

Daed laughed again; as if he knew he was the only one to see the joke. He said, ‘Oh, yes. A minor irony.’

‘And Paz sent Customer Services out to pick up some poor innocent gamerunner who never hurt anyone? Gods, Daed. You make me sick.’

‘Yes, all right. I don’t like it any more than you. But it’s just a detail. What matters —’

‘And — wait. You told me that, about Rick, when I’ve just told you I might be bugged? Are you mad?’ She said it calmly, like a med asking for symptoms.

‘I didn’t believe you,’ Daed said. ‘I thought you just didn’t feel like talking to me.’

‘Well,’ Perdita said. ‘OK. You were right. As it happens. But — Daed . . .’

For a horrible moment Rick was sure she was pointing at the cupboard and miming that he was there. But Perdita was decent; she wouldn’t betray him like that.

Daed said, ‘What?’

‘If it’s not urgent,’ Perdita said. ‘I’ve got a deadline for tomorrow —’

‘It is urgent. It won’t take long.’

‘Daed —’

‘Please,’ he said. Daed never said
please
.

‘I don’t have time —’

‘I need your help, Perdy. Please help me.’

Rick stared blindly into the dark. He was gripping the corner of one of the cardboard squares; he didn’t remember taking hold of it, but now it was hurting his hand.

Perdita cleared her throat; but it seemed like an eternity before she said anything. Even then, when she spoke, it was only, ‘Daed . . .’

‘Do you want me to beg?’

‘No, of course not!’ Rick heard her turn on her heel and stride across to the window. She took a deep breath. ‘Daed, you don’t need my help. You’ve never needed anyone’s help.’

‘I do now.’

‘Just because they’ve changed the terms of your contract —’

‘Not quite,’ he said. ‘Not
just
because.’

Silence.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘What do you want?’

More silence. Rick squeezed the cardboard between his fingers until it was damp and soft. Daed, saying
please
. . . He never said please, even to Paz.

Daed said, ‘I want you to give me Asterion.’

There was a little noise, as if Perdita had opened her mouth and shut it again; and then silence. Rick wondered why this silence was different from the ones before it. There was no logic to it. But it
was
different.

He wondered who Asterion was; and why he mattered so much.

Perdita said, ‘Yes, well, I want Paz’s bank account details and a ticket to Deception Island. But I’m not going to get them.’

‘Perdita —’

She laughed, but she didn’t sound like herself. ‘No.’

‘Just let me expl—’

‘Asterion wouldn’t even
work
, Daed. It was just an idea I had when we were drunk. I didn’t think it through. It was years ago, when we still thought everything was possible . . . I can’t believe you’re serious.’ Her voice changed key, going up a tone. ‘I don’t even have the plans in soft copy. They’re in a file somewhere in
ink
, on
paper
, and I haven’t seen them for years. You must be desperate.’

‘Yes,’ Daed said. ‘I am desperate.’

A pause. Perdita breathed, and breathed again. Then she said, ‘Well. I’m sorry. But Asterion won’t help you.’

‘It
would
help me,’ Daed said, and a cough surfaced and bubbled and barked before he swallowed it again. ‘Come on! It was a perfect idea. You may have been drunk when you had the idea, but you worked on it for days. Remember? It was —’

‘No.’

‘I’ll pay you for it, naturally.’

‘
No
.’

‘If it wouldn’t work, you can give me the plans, can’t you?’

‘I haven’t got them any more. I probably threw away all that stuff when I got promoted, all the silly mad ideas you and I had together. I don’t have time for any of it now.’

Daed coughed again, softly. He didn’t believe her. Neither did Rick, come to that, and he didn’t know what they were talking about. But it was her voice: she was panicking.

Daed said, ‘Then tell me what you can remember. I think I can work out most of it — but there’s a lot of code that I can’t reconstruct —’

‘You’ve already been trying to reconstruct it?’

‘Just playing around,’ Daed said. ‘Just doodling. But if I could invent a workable version —’

‘Get out of my workshop,’ Perdita said. Rick had never heard her voice sound like that. It was a voice you could have sharpened a knife on.

‘Perdita, please — I won’t steal it, I’ll credit you, I just need —’

‘
Credit
me? Dear gods, you think I’m worried about
that
? Do you have any idea what you’re asking? Asterion is . . . Daed, it’s
evil
. It’s an idea I came up with because I was interested in how it could work, that’s all. It was just a game. I never,
never
thought about giving it to Crater, or —’

‘
Evil?
I think you’re overstating the case.’

‘Out,’ she said. ‘I’m not negotiating. Get out.’

‘Please, Perdy — I was there, when you thought of it, the idea’s partly mine —’

‘You will use Asterion over my dead body.
Over — my — dead — body
,’ she said again. Rick saw her in his mind’s eye: her dead body, ready to be stepped over.

‘So it
could
be used?’

‘I’m calling Security.’

‘I’ve got full entry privileges to be in here.’

There was a creak, as if she was sitting down, and a little metallic tapping that Rick couldn’t place. It went on, until he wondered if something awful had happened so quietly he hadn’t noticed.

Finally she said, ‘Please, Daed. I’m too tired to argue about this. My answer’s no, that’s all. It will be no, whatever you say. And if, somehow, you get hold of the roughs — and I don’t know, I honestly don’t know where they are — I will do everything in my power to sabotage the iTank and your expansion. I won’t be responsible for Asterion, and if I can help it neither will you.’

It was probably the longest speech Rick had ever heard Perdita make. By the end of it she sounded as if she’d forgotten how to breathe.

Daed said, ‘I’m dying.’

The tapping stopped.

‘Ironic, isn’t it? For an ordinary, human little disease to take me out? Too many cigarettes. How histro.’ He paused. ‘I don’t know how long I have left, Perdita. Time to finish the expansion, probably; but after that I don’t know. What do you think Paz will do with Rick, when I’m dead?’

It was a rhetorical question. The answer was silence.

‘I can’t leave Rick with nothing,’ Daed said. ‘He needs me. He needs protecting.’

‘Asterion won’t —’

‘For as long as I’m here — for as long as I’m designing the Maze — my contract runs and Rick is safe. If I die, leaving nothing but a flimsy expansion that won’t last a year, he’s only got as long as it takes for someone to reach the end. If I hadn’t been here when he ran the Roots, he’d have been out on the streets that night. Without a hood, knowing Paz. He’s only a kid, Perdita. How long do you think he’d last out there? I
can’t die
, do you understand? I need to be immortal.’

‘Asterion won’t —’

‘As good as.’

‘No, Daed, it won’t! For gods’ sake — what is it you
really
care about leaving? Rick — or the Maze?’

‘Rick and the Maze need each other. I want them both to survive. Do you understand that? And for that I need Asterion.’

‘Well, you can’t have it.’

Daed coughed, and this time the cough went on for longer. Rick heard something wet hit the floor.

Perdita said, ‘Do you want me to call a med?’

But when Daed stopped coughing, all he said was, ‘I can get your workshop searched.’

‘If you had a better way to get the plans, Daed, you wouldn’t have asked me for them,’ Perdita said. ‘You might have been able to ask Crater for the sun on a wire, before Rick ran the Roots. But now? No, I don’t think so. You try anything out of order, and your contract will be terminated, and some clever young thing will be in your office quicker than broadband.’ She wasn’t threatening him, just stating the facts. She was almost being kind. It made Rick hate her more than he’d ever hated anyone.

Daed said, ‘Look at me, Perdita! I’m an old man. I’m desperate. Please. We were friends —’

‘
Were
, yes,’ Perdita said. ‘Until the moment you asked me to give you Asterion. Who the hell do you think you are? Gods, I thought Paz was bad —’

‘I give you my word that I’ll use it on myself, first —’

‘First. Exactly.’

‘For Rick’s sake, then! Do you want to see him thrown out on the streets? Do you want him to die too?’

Silence. Rick stared at the blackness in front of his face.

‘That’s unfair,’ Perdita said at last. ‘You’re being cruel.’

‘Am I?’

Another pause. Then she said, ‘You really want me to spell it out for you, do you? OK, then. Yes. I would rather both of you died. I’m sorry, Daed. I love you both. But Asterion is not what you’re looking for.’

Rick waited for Daed to reply.

But he didn’t.

He’d given up.

And Rick understood, then, that Daed
was
dying.

There were footsteps, the click of someone logging out of the comms panel, and the
scrape-buzz
of the door. Rick wished he was deaf. He wanted to put his hands over his ears but they didn’t obey him. He was still clutching the thin book-thing with his right hand, and the cardboard was warm and prickling like pins and needles. He wanted everything to go away. He was glad it was dark.

There were more footsteps. From the scuff of rubber on the floor Rick could imagine Perdita’s shoes, in detail, grimy laces and rubber soles. He could smell the old-canvas, old-feet odour.

A stool creaked. There was a crash — a big, multiple crash, and the faint patter of something else falling a second later. Then something heavy hit the workbench, and he heard Perdita swearing, her voice muffled. Then she started to cry.

He didn’t feel sorry for her. He wished she was dying, too.