Stealing Light (20 page)

‘What happened to this place?’ asked Corso in awe, peering down through the taxi’s wraparound windscreen. They were passing over occasional pockets of devastation, now half overgrown with weeds.

‘Power struggle,’ Dakota replied. ‘The Consortium won, but only just.’

‘So the Consortium is still in charge here?’

Dakota shrugged. ‘Nobody’s strictly in charge. It depends which part of the city you’re in.’

Corso looked disbelieving. ‘But
someone
must be in charge of keeping this place in order—the Shoal at the very least. It’s their ship, so where are they anyway?’

‘Corso, they don’t care about anything but their trade agreements.’

‘Well, then—’

‘No one is in charge here,’ Udo muttered, his voice full of distaste, ‘because no one here has the honour or strength to do something about it. This whole place is a monument to the very worst aspects of human nature.’

‘—what exactly do the Shoal get out of all this?’ Corso continued, despite Udo’s interruption. ‘With all their technology, all their advanced might-as-well-be-magic science, what do we have they could possibly want from us?’

‘That’s the eternal question, Corso,’ Dakota answered. ‘Nobody knows, and the Shoal aren’t telling. Maybe they just like being in charge, full stop.’

‘But they’re just, just. . . fish!’ Corso cried. ‘How in God’s name
do fish
come up with all this?’

Dakota shrugged again, but offered him a small smile. ‘Same answer.’

The air taxi had now dropped below the level of the tallest buildings surrounding the city centre. The rooftops of some of these buildings stretched all the way to the coreship ceiling, where they were securely anchored. Dakota noted some of the lower structures still retained Consortium gun posts on their rooftops, their weapons aimed permanently towards the rebel districts beyond. The momentary brush of their security systems against her implants came to her like a faint mental tickle.

Severn.
She sensed him again, as she had ever since they’d docked, somewhere out there among the grimy streets and half-rotted buildings of downtown—the site of much of the worst devastation from the civil war. He’d have sensed her too, of course. It was all part of the eternal joy of being a machine-head.

The air taxi changed course, obeying Dakota’s unspoken command. At this, Udo looked around wildly for a moment before his gaze finally settled on her.

‘I’m in charge of this craft,’ Udo snapped. ‘Relinquish your control.’

‘You’re here to keep us safe,’ Dakota snapped back. ‘Not to tell me what to do.’

Corso sat to one side of Dakota, looking baffled by their argument. The air taxi began to drift downwards on its cushion of energy. ‘You’re taking us outside of the Consortium-controlled sector of Ascension,’ Udo hissed tightly. ‘This is a lawless area.’

‘Anyone looking for trouble isn’t going to be swayed by whichever part of town we land in. And there’s someone here I haven’t seen in a long time.’

She spared a quick glance at Corso, remembering their conversation after Udo had attacked her. Corso was still part of the Freehold, and there wasn’t any reason to believe for one second he’d be anything but loyal to Senator Arbenz. But what he’d said to her on the bridge had nevertheless appeared to contradict that.

The taxi settled down with a soft thump near an open marketplace. As soon as Udo cracked open the taxi’s hatch, the smell of cooking assailed Dakota’s senses: tear-inducing spices mixed with the smell of roasting meat and the fresh smell of newly cut vegetables. Animal brains sizzled in pans suspended above smoking braziers, while dogs whined and barked in cages next to an open-air restaurant, awaiting their turn for slaughter.

Messages flashed through the air in a dozen languages, letters rearranging themselves into Chinese dragons above one establishment, or fat-bellied smiling chefs above another. An Atn—its enormous metal carapace painted with symbols and scratchy alien art -lumbered its way through the throng of pedestrians crowding the walkways, its thick metal legs moving with almost liquid slowness. People automatically gave it a wide berth, knowing the creatures stopped for nothing.

Hunger hit Dakota with appalling ferocity as they stepped out of the taxi. Udo looked twitchy enough to try and down anyone who so much as glanced in his direction. Corso seemed a little dazed. She’d brought them to Chondrite Avenue, a long thoroughfare that traversed the eastern district, filled with a dense population of squatters and refugees from a dozen Consortium-space conflicts, many of them sleeping and living directly off the street. During the civil war it had been a sniper’s alley no one dared enter, unless suicide was high on their agenda. But those days were long gone, hopefully.

Dakota headed straight for a roadside grill, and a few moments later returned to join Corso and Udo, chewing at a kebab of peppered meat dripping with grease. She grinned at them widely, pleased to see Udo looking seriously pissed off.

Corso took her by the arm, leaned in towards her and whispered quietly enough not to be heard over the hubbub: ‘Mala, I can tell you’re up to something. Whatever it is, please don’t.’

Dakota just gave him a quizzical smile as if she had no idea what he was talking about. ‘C’mon,’ she said, taking Corso’s arm, and pointedly ignoring Udo, ‘we’re both a long way from home, and we’ve got a lot of time ahead of us. How about I play tourist guide after all?’

And maybe you can answer some questions.

—

Dakota made sure to stay in the lead, pushing past Udo who was doing an excellent job of radiating menace at other pedestrians. She tried to ignore the queasy, nervous feeling building up inside her ever since she’d decided that making a break for it was her best chance of survival. So very much could still go wrong.

She led them away from Chondrite and down Yolande, a narrow alley between walls still pocked with bullet holes. Banners declaring allegiance to General Peralta hung down from windows and balconies all round, some of them trailing in the mud underfoot. Flies and the smell of rotting food filled the air. She kept expecting Udo’s hand to reach out to restrain her, and almost gave in to the urge to turn round and check out the expression on his face.

But she didn’t dare. Not yet. Instead she kept going, adrenalin pumping through her bloodstream. By now he
had
to have guessed where she was leading them.

The alley widened suddenly and became quieter. Up ahead was a dead-end, with a door set in one wall. It was plain, unassuming and unmarked. Several armed men stood before it as they habitually did and, as ever, they wore Peralta’s colours on their arms, scarves tightly knotted around the biceps.

Finally, she felt Udo’s hand clamp down on to her shoulder. She turned at last.

‘This stops here,’ he hissed. ‘We are
not
going inside.’ He nodded towards the guarded entrance.

‘Going where?’ Dakota asked him with faked innocence.

For a moment she thought Udo was going to deck her; he trembled with barely suppressed rage, then spoke again, clearly forcing himself to remain calm. ‘We are going to turn around now, and—’

‘No, Udo. I know all about you. And don’t dare ask how.’

‘I’m warning you—’

‘But you won’t do anything, will you? I know you need me for much more than just piloting your ship. You just about said so yourself. “If I only knew”: remember?’ She leaned towards the Freeholder, relishing the strangled look on his face. ‘That means you don’t dare let anything happen to me.’

She turned and moved towards the door.

‘Stop—’

Udo reached towards her. The men guarding the entrance tensed in response. Dakota prayed Udo wasn’t quite as stupid as he sometimes acted. Loud music thudded from beyond the door.

He pulled back his hand, eyes fixed on the guards, his face full of contempt and hate.

One of the guards, a heavily muscled individual with a shaven head, pulled the door open with a nod. The music soared to ear-splitting levels.

‘Severn’s expecting you,’ he bellowed in Dakota’s ear, barely audible over the racket.

‘I know,’ she yelled back, and stepped inside.

Severn’s bar had remained intact through the civil war, surviving under Peralta’s patronage. The interior was dark, apart from the lights above the counter, and illuminated cages against a far wall in which forms more animal than human moved and howled. Men and women sat in deeply shadowed alcoves all around, their faces glistening occasionally in seamy light. She didn’t need to turn around to know that both Corso and Udo were right behind her.

Dakota felt a light pressure against her thigh. Udo had angled his body, leaning in against her, so the knife that had suddenly appeared in his hand remained almost invisible.

‘There are a thousand ways I could kill you right now and nobody would even guess,’ he hissed in her ear. ‘Tell me what you’re trying to do.’

‘I know you come here for the mogs,’ Dakota replied, her voice tight with terror. ‘I know all about it. I want to know where the
Hyperion
is going, and why.’

The pressure increased. She imagined the wickedly sharp blade cutting through her flesh. Udo’s other hand gripped her shoulder like a steel vice.

‘And in return, you don’t talk? Is that your deal? Let’s sit down then,’ Udo hissed, guiding her towards an empty alcove. Corso followed, looking bewildered.

Severn was close, very close. As she sat down, she could sense him somewhere nearby. She glanced around and spotted him standing behind the bar counter, only a few metres away. He stood with his muscled arms folded, an amused expression on his face. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if asking a question: Dakota responded by shaking her head.
Not yet.

Severn had acquired more tattoos since the last time she’d seen him, a few years after the incident at Port Gabriel. They now spread up his shoulders, across his chest where they were clearly visible beneath his shirt, and then curled around his neck.

Unlike many others, he chose not to hide the fact he was a machine-head. His scalp was still shaven, the skin on the back of his head tattooed with diagrams that mirrored the machinery that lay hidden underneath the flesh and bone.

Looking at his skull and face, only an expert would have been able to recognize the reconstructive work done after he’d shot himself, long ago, as Dakota had watched.

Yet despite being one of the most easily recognizable human beings alive, almost no one outside of a very exclusive clientele had even heard of him.

Corso sat down facing the pair of them in the alcove, his hands tightly gripping the edge of the table. ‘Please tell me what’s going on here,’ he urged quietly.

Dakota ignored him. ‘Udo, listen to me. I know the man who runs this place. He’s a machine-head, same as me. We look out for each other. Anything happens to me now, I can guarantee you won’t walk out of here alive.’

Udo glanced over and caught Severn’s eye. The bar owner held Udo’s gaze and moved his head slowly from side to side.

Dakota wondered if she’d pushed the Freeholder too far. ‘Udo, I don’t give a damn what you do in your private life. But you and the rest of the people on that ship sure as fuck don’t do a great job of securing private data.’

‘You have
no
right looking into those files—’

‘Udo, it’s hard
not
to look at the files. You’ve been caught before. There was nearly a scandal back on Redstone. We both know just how nasty it’d get for you back home if the truth ever got out.’

Udo pulled his knife back a little, but kept it angled towards her thigh. She was entirely aware that if he cut her the right way, she’d be dead in seconds from blood loss.

‘The only reason you’re still alive,’ he growled, ‘is because it’s my job to keep you alive for as long as we need you.’ The knife twitched against her thigh and Dakota suppressed a gasp. ‘But accidents happen.’ He laughed, the sound not entirely sane. ‘What the fuck made you think you could blackmail me?’

‘Udo.’ It was Corso. He’d seen what Mansell hadn’t. ‘Udo, put the knife away.’

‘Stay out of this,’ Udo snapped back. ‘Or I’ll skewer you where you sit.’

‘Udo, look behind you.’ Corso nodded over Mansell’s left shoulder.

Udo turned his head slightly and stiffened at the sight of the rifle barrel aimed at a spot just below his left ear. One of Severn’s men was standing diagonally right behind him.

‘Evening,’ murmured the guard.

Udo turned back around and gave Dakota a look of baleful hatred.

‘I’m sorry, Lucas,’ said Dakota. ‘But I’m going to have to ask you if there’s anything concerning your expedition I might not already be familiar with.’

Corso sighed as if a burden had settled on his shoulders. ‘Planetary exploration.’

‘And?’

‘And that’s it.’

She turned to Udo, who shook his head. ‘I’ve been threatened by people a lot more dangerous than you,’ he said slowly.

Dakota turned back to Corso with a smile. ‘Did you know your friend here likes to fuck mogs?’

Corso looked between the two of them, as if not quite sure what he’d just heard. ‘Excuse me, what are . . .?’ he shrugged without finishing, clearly baffled.

‘Udo here has a thing for mogs,’ Dakota repeated, nodding towards the lupine shapes writhing in cages at the far end of the bar.

Corso flipped his gaze between the cages, Dakota and Udo, opening and closing his mouth several times. ‘What... are those things mogs?’

‘It’s a nasty little fetish,’ Dakota added. ‘Not quite bestiality, but close enough.’

‘Not quite? They’re animals, right?’ Corso demanded, his voice rising. ‘Or . . . what else are they?’

Beside Dakota, Udo sat stock-still. The knife now lay on the table before him, and both his hands were placed palms-down on the tabletop.

‘They’re illegal half-human gene-jobs,’ she explained. ‘Low intelligence, vicious, dumber than an ape but smarter than a dog. There’re a lot of cross-species hacks out there, but that’s the most popular by a long shot. Some are made for fighting, some for sex. In a place like this it’s mostly sex.’