Great North Road (101 page)

“I’ve been told the Prosecution Bureau is going to charge Reinert today. Which means everyone will know your brother wasn’t a carjacking victim.”

“I don’t think many ever believed that.”

“Aye, well, the only thing they can charge him with is accessory after the fact. If a court finds him guilty, he’ll serve two years in a correctional education camp, then be dumped on his very own five acres of Minisa on the opposite side of the planet from its gateway and told not to come back.”

“Yes.”

“There’s going to be a media shitstorm when the charges are publicly logged with the court. Lots of politicians, especially opposition ones, asking why the police can’t find the murderer. O’Rouke will promise the case will remain open.”

“Of course he will. He has no choice.”

“But it’s dead. We covered every angle. I genuinely don’t have another lead to go on. I’m sorry.”

“Sid, I already briefed Augustine when Reinert’s file was sent to the Prosecution Bureau. We know what’s going to happen. And I know you did everything you could, I was there, you know.”

Sid looked at him over his teacup. Was Aldred playing him? “You were a big help with O’Rouke.”

“Yes, well, O’Rouke is something of a dinosaur. Effective, mind—he’s done great things for this city, and we’re all grateful—but it’s probably best he claims his well-deserved retirement package now.”

“And me?”

“No, Sid. We don’t blame you.”

“O’Rouke will be putting me up for grade five before he leaves. The file work’s already been logged with the promotions board.”

Aldred pursed his lips. “One grade from the top, eh? You deserve it. You did a good job.”

“Is there still a place for me in your division? I’d appreciate an honest answer. I deserve that, I think.”

“Sid, we’re not the Mafia, I’ve always been level with you, that’s what I like about our arrangement. Yes there is a place for you at Northumberland Interstellar, there always will be. Can I offer some advice?”

“I’d welcome it.”

“Stick with a grade-five position for a couple of years before you think about the transfer over.”

“Okay. Why?”

Aldred indicated the street scene on the other side of the window. “Sunny day out there, nice and warm. It’s going to be another drought summer.”

“They all are these days.”

“Not on St. Libra, they’re not. Our entire operation there is in the process of shutting down. We’re bringing our people back here.”

“I know. That’s good of you.”

“Sid, Northumberland Interstellar is a corporation, bottom line. In fact, the
only
line. We only do charity if we get a decent tax relief out of it. We’re bringing them back because the farms out there are as dead as our algaepaddies. It’s cheaper to allow personnel back than it is to ship food to them through the gateway. It’s cheaper for them to find themselves a rented house on the open market here than for us to provide their tropical condo with insulation and power for heating. And when this is all over, when the redshift ends and the snow melts, it’s going to wash away half of Highcastle. That city isn’t hardy like Newcastle, Sid, it wasn’t built for cold weather. We’ll have to rebuild it. This could break us, Sid, this could break Northumberland Interstellar.”

“Crap on it. Seriously?”

“I don’t know, Sid. My father doesn’t know. Nobody knows. Not even all those analysts that fill our offices. But building ourselves back to pre-sunspot levels is going to take decades of work. Money is going to be tight. And we’ll be competing for credit with the other bioil companies that are going to be expanding their operations while we’re down and out. That’s on top of the recession we’ve just triggered and no one has noticed yet.”

“The recession?” Sid wished he didn’t sound quite so ignorant.

“Sid, St. Libra supplies over sixty percent of the GE’s bioil, and quite a lot to other nations, too. That tap has been turned off. You’re going to be lucky if you can heat your house next winter. If you’ve got a log burner stove, I suggest you start chopping down trees this summer. We’re in for ten years of very harsh times. Which is why I suggest you keep your government job, funded by that glorious, everlasting, inexhaustible supply of taxpayers’ money. I can guarantee you a job right now—I can’t guarantee you the company will survive.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize how bad this was. I’ve not been paying attention.”

“I know. Three weeks ago, the murder was all that mattered to me, to my brothers; and our father was obsessed by it. Now, even I don’t care. So thank you for the job you did, Sid. We won’t forget our friends. But you need to look after yourself and your family.”

Sid followed Aldred out of the Jamaica Blue café. He stood on the pavement and watched the North walk over to the Mercedes limousine parked in the loading-only bay. The bodyguards closed around as he got in, then the car was pulling away into the traffic.

When it turned into St. Mary’s Place and vanished from sight, Eva and Ian came up behind Sid.

“That was depressing,” Eva said. “Sixty percent? I didn’t know it was that much; my husband said it was thirty. Damn, we’re in for some bad times.”

“Brussels never liked admitting how dependent we were on St. Libra,” Ian said. “Bloody typical, like.”

“Did you place the smartmicrobe?” Sid asked them.

“Aye, man, no problem,” Ian said. “That little cyber ant machine walked right up to his shoe and zapped the heel. Lucky the café switches their meshes off while you have your meetings.”

“Aye. Lucky. We’re due some of that.”

“So how long do we leave it before we download Aldred?” Eva asked.

“Let’s give it another week,” Sid said. “If he’s going to talk to Sherman again, it’ll be soon. We’ll download everyone simultaneously and see what we’ve caught.”

“Let’s hope he keeps wearing those shoes,” Eva said.

“We gave it our best shot, pet,” Sid said. “One way or another, this is going to be over soon.”

“Tallulah called,” Ian said with a broad smile. “While you were in there talking, she called. She said she’d see me this evening.”

Sid put his arm around Ian’s shoulder and gave him a happy shake. “That’s good, man. If the two of you can survive something like last night, you’ve got a real chance with her.”

“So don’t blow it,” Eva said. “When you take her out tonight, don’t be you.”

“Hey!”

“I mean it,” Eva said. “She needs to talk about this. Don’t make the evening just about getting her back into bed. If you want this to last, show an interest in her.”

“She’s got a point,” Sid grinned. “For a start, steer clear of the places you usually go.”

“Aye, man,” Ian groaned. “Dating advice from married people. Give me more of that.”

T
HURSDAY,
A
PRIL 11, 2143

The thaw arrived as fast as it was unexpected. Some pocket of warm air that had somehow endured the redshift and storm patterns came rushing in from the southwest during Wednesday night, driving the aurora borealis away. But by then,
warm
was a relative term for the Brogal continent.

When it did arrive at Wukang just after daybreak, the snow walls around the domes were nearly four meters high, and windsculpted into impressive arching overhangs, as if nature were mimicking the curvature of the panels. The onset of warmer weather brought out work details; armed with long poles, they started to break off slippery chunks around the apex of each wall. The snow was already turning to slush and dripping hard. They had to work quickly before entire overhangs tumbled down. The weight of them would probably shatter the dome panels underneath, themselves trapped at subzero temperatures under a second, thinner layer of insulating snow that covered them.

Outside the snow walls, the drifts were thawing under the stunted pink light that shone down through a clear sky. Trickles of water began to deepen, cutting through the snow to form crumbling gullies. It was as if the snow had started to rot. People walking about found their feet sinking up to the knee. The only vehicles able to move with any success were the tracked bulldozers. Vance Elston immediately set them to work, clearing the heavy dunes that had built up around the microfacture shack and the Qwik-Kabins.

With the clear-up under way, he called a senior staff meeting in the microfacture shack. It was crowded in the long rectangular space. Ophelia’s team had been working constantly, printing a prototype sledge to be pulled by vehicles, a couple of thick V-shaped plows to fit on the front of the MTJs, and several broad tires with deep treads.

“The tires we have are all too narrow for these conditions,” explained Leif Davdia, the vehicle chief. “We can fit these to the MTJs and the Land Rovers without any trouble. But the tanker and trucks will need some work. If we can cut away some of the bodywork from around the wheel arches I think we can fit a decent size.”

Vance stood beside one of the tires intended for an MTJ—it came up to his elbows. “Is there enough raw for this?”

Leif and Ophelia exchanged a look. “We think so,” Ophelia said. “Given we won’t be coming back, we can use everything. The trick will be a blend that can withstand the cold and give us the flexibility we need.”

“All right, which vehicles are we using?”

“The three Tropics,” Forster said.

“Hopefully,” Leif said quickly. “I’d like to make some systems modifications before we set off.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Vance asked.

“The clue’s in the name,” Karizma said.

Vance gave her a look, but let the rudeness slide. They’d all been working hard in unfavorable conditions, and nobody got much sleep. Even so, he told his e-i to remind him to speak to Jay about her. They needed to maintain discipline now more than ever.

“Davdia?” he invited.

“Uh, yes, well the same applies to most of our equipment, but it’s most acute for the Tropics. They don’t even have heaters in the cab. Rigging something up to the aircon isn’t a problem, I can have something crude but working inside of a few days. But then there’s the bodywork. It’s the same problem we had with the domes—the composite wasn’t designed for this temperature. They’ll be brittle.”

“What about the chassis?”

“That’s not a problem, sir—they’re Land Rover standard. It’s everything else that is customized according to environment.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier not to take them?”

“No, sir,” Forster said. “We’ve got an accommodation shortage. We’ll be putting some people in sledges as it is.”

“I see. Okay, carry on; what else?”

“I want to use the MTJs to take point duty; the snowplows can cut through the deeper drifts. They can alternate to give their crews some relief. Whichever one is off-point will tow a sledge, along with all three Tropics. Then the tanker, of course. And both trucks will be used to carry additional fuel bladder tanks; they’re capable of towing more supplies on sledges, too, if we have time to print them. We’re expecting to leave the trucks behind as we run down our bioil. The cabs only take two people, so it won’t be too much trouble.”

Vance waited a moment. “What about the biolabs?”

“We considered them,” Leif said. “But frankly, they use up a lot of fuel. I think we’re better off putting people into sledges.”

“No,” Vance said flatly. “We’re taking the biolabs. I’m not having anyone traveling in a sledge, period. We’re adding complexity and putting people in harm’s way. The entire xenobiology team can travel in the biolabs, and some extra personnel, too. If you’re worried about fuel, they can tow their own reserve tanks. Sorry, but that’s not up for discussion.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We might not have enough raw for their tires,” Karizma said. “In fact I know we don’t.”

“The biolabs are configured for difficult terrain,” Vance told her. “They can crawl over Zanth if they have to. In the convoy they can go in the middle—the snow will be compacted from the lead vehicles. They’ll be able to cope with that as they are.”

“You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.”

“Excuse me?”

“Enough,” Jay cautioned her.

“No. It’s not.” Karizma faced Vance, completely unrepentant. “You got us into this. You could have insisted on an evac flight when this world started crapping on us, but you didn’t.”

“We have a mission to complete,” Vance said with what he hoped was quiet authority. “And you are a serving HDA member.”

“Bullshit. This isn’t a mission, it’s a fucking disaster.”

“Wadhai!” Jay warned.

“What? I’m going to be in trouble? Big fucking deal. This convoy, it’s a bunch of crap. You’re making it worse for us. Two thousand kilometers through a jungle that’s four meters deep in snow. That’s a complete fucking joke. Nobody can do that. You’re going to get us killed out there, and for what?”

“I’m getting us out of here,” Vance said. “In case you haven’t noticed, that creature is killing us here.”

“We’ve got the comm rockets,” Karizma said. “Jesus, just use them. Fire them up to a height where they can shout to Abellia, and get us a Daedalus.”

“There’s four meters of snow on the runway,” Jay said.

“You said there’s a ski variant coming through the gateway. That can land here.”

“HDA is considering dispatching one,” Vance said. “If we capture the alien, they will probably send it through.”

“What?”

“There isn’t one on St. Libra. The situation is more complex than you think.”

“You lied! Jesus fucking Christ, you fucking lied to us!”

“That’s enough,” Jay said. “Do not make the mistake of assuming you are beyond disciplinary action here.”

“The convoy is plain wrong,” Karizma said. “You’re asking us to risk our lives on a wild chance that we can travel two thousand kilometers in vehicles that are built for hot mud and tropical typhoons. We have supplies here to last us for months—fuels, food, raw, it’s enough. But not if we burn all the bioil in vehicles on this crazy risk. The sunspots will fade. For crap’s sake, the snow’s already melting. We just sit it out. Even a normal Daedalus can land on a wet runway, and we’ve still got the dozers, we can extend it.”