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Authors: Peter F. Hamilton

Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Space Opera

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BOOK: The Abyss Beyond Dreams
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So much for
Hilltop Eye
being produced by the Captain’s family, then, Slvasta thought cheerfully as he ate his scrambled eggs. There were quite a few people in the café
chortling over the pamphlet as they had breakfast. It was a bold story to put into print, confirming what everyone ’path gossiped anyway. The problem the authorities had with
Hilltop
Eye
was the way it encouraged other pamphlets to be equally audacious. Questions about the activities it reported were already being asked in several district councils. Nothing in the National
Council yet. But if it carried on exposing theft and fraud like this, people would want to know just what Captain Philious was going to do about it. Probably a question the good Captain would be
asking himself this fine morning.

*

Slvasta arrived at the Joint Regimental Council building just after eight o’clock. It was a monolithic stone building on Cantural Street, whose three lower floors were a
maze of corridors leading to hundreds of small offices occupied by junior staff. Slvasta, at least, had an office on the fourth floor, with a broad arching window that gave him a view out into the
central quad, with its fountain and topiary flameyews.

Keturah and Thelonious, his assistants, were waiting for him as he settled behind his desk. Both of them held bundles of files and papers, which made him shudder inwardly. Thelonious had
bruised-looking eyes set in a pale face, and his shell was none too stable, allowing little bursts of nausea to trickle out – clearly badly hungover. Slvasta chose to ignore it.

‘What have I got?’ he asked.

‘Transport policy sub-committee meeting at ten,’ Keturah said. She checked her clipboard. ‘Aflar nest incursion briefing at fifteen hundred hours – the Marine Commandant
will be chairing that one himself. Inter-region communication and cooperation budget sub-committee meeting, seventeen hundred hours.’

It was an effort, but Slvasta managed not to groan. ‘Okay. Reports?’

Thelonious stepped up to the desk and put his pile of files down on the oak top. ‘Two Falls in the last ten days. We’re just getting the notice from Portlynn. The other was way down
south in Vondara.’

‘Thanks. I’d like the final Portlynn report when it comes in. For now, just get me some tea, please, and remind me about the transport meeting a quarter of an hour before it
starts.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Keturah said with a hesitant smile.

Slvasta waved them both out. When the heavy door had shut behind them, he looked at the map of Bienvenido, which took up an entire wall. It was covered in tiny yellow pins, indicating Falls.
They were denser in the tropics, becoming progressively sparser further from the equator. According to the Watcher Guild, the Faller eggs, which always came from the section of the Forest closest
to Bienvenido, would naturally fall along the equator; it was only little inaccuracies in their trajectory as they left the trees, and the way they drifted on the long flight through space, that
left them peppering the whole planet.

He went over and stuck two yellow pins in the new Fall zones. His map had several clusters of red pins for sweeps in which their officers had reported suspected impacts devoid of an egg. And,
according to the Marine Commandant’s office, the Faller Research Institute hadn’t issued any requests for a new egg to experiment on for years now. He’d sent Keturah over there to
check; she’d come back with a date with one of the junior clerks and his promise to report any such request when it happened.

The first red pin Slvasta had ever put in the map, the day he arrived, was just below Adice, where he’d encountered Nigel. Black pins were based on reports of people disappearing without
explanation. He’d set the criteria as three or more people in one area to qualify. The heaviest concentrations, naturally enough, were in Rakwesh Province and the Aflar peninsula, west of the
Spine mountains.

As always, he stared at the ‘Nigel’ pin. There were few other red ones near it, and no black ones within two hundred miles. If Nigel had taken any more eggs, it wasn’t anywhere
within five hundred miles of Adice. In fact, Slvasta hadn’t read any report of missing eggs that matched the profile.

‘Where
are
you?’ he asked the map.

*

The transport policy sub-committee meeting was held in one of the big conference rooms on the fifth floor. Twenty-three officers (seven of them majors) sat around a long
mercedar table; that left another seventeen chairs empty. Age-darkened oil paintings of past regimental commanders gazed down at them from the walls. Aides and staff bustled round, served tea and
coffee to the officers, then took their seats around the wall, notepads open and pens ready.

Arnice sat next to Slvasta and told his staff to fetch him a coffee. ‘My third this morning,’ he confessed. ‘How about you? Did you have a good night?’

‘Very pleasant,’ Slvasta said, keeping his smile to a minimum.

‘You sly old dog, you. Jaix said Lanicia told her you both had a great time together.’

‘That’s what I like to hear – first-hand information.’

‘In this city? Listen, that’s like a licensed news gazette. So when are you seeing her again?’

‘No real plans.’

‘My dear fellow, you must strike while the iron’s hot. Her family owns part of the South-Western Rail Line company. Admittedly, she’s only the fourth daughter, but nonetheless
there’ll be a handsome dowry for you there.’

‘And what about the person herself?’

‘You really do have a lot to learn about society, don’t you? I now officially consider it my personal challenge to see you wed properly by year’s end.’

‘Really? Then do please tell me what her father is going to say when he meets a one-armed pauper.’

‘And that is going to be the first part of your education. Do away with your modesty, learn to emphasize your finer points. None of the chaps in this town is a tenth as honourable or
heroic as you. Admit it, you’re a fine catch. And, married well, you could go back to Cham and take over the regiment.’

‘In another fifty years.’

‘Ah, great Giu, that’s clearly my second challenge. You’re in such a hurry to get things done. Life here has a pace, a rhythm.’

‘One that suits you, not me.’

‘I’m on your side. Come now, shall I ’path Jaix to set up a meal tonight? A splendid, fun double date? What do you say? And don’t try and claim you’re frightfully
busy, for I know you’re not.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Excellent answer. We’re meeting the gals at the Piarro restaurant at eight thirty.’

Slvasta shook his head, grinning ruefully. ‘You are impossible.’

‘My pleasure.’

Colonel Gelasis from the Captain’s Marines called the meeting to order. There were twenty-seven items on the agenda, from the provision of trains and increasing the cooperation of the rail
companies (by National Council law if necessary) to boot leather selection for tropical-based regiments. The only item Slvasta cared about was fourteenth, the one he’d proposed; he’d
had to back numerous other items and policies to even have it considered. That had been a hard and rapid introduction to political horse trading. Item fourteen was the legal requirement for all
regiments to abandon mod-horses in favour of terrestrial ones when engaged in a Fall sweep.

‘Excellent notion,’ Colonel Gelasis said. ‘Especially in view of Captain Slvasta’s testimony concerning abnormal Faller control of mod-animals. I trust everyone read the
report?’

There was a general wave of amusement round the table, which Slvasta did his best to play along with. He didn’t need dropped shells to know the answer to that one: no. It was his own
response to all the other appended reports on the items. It was always a puzzle, given that he spent his days achieving nothing, that he had no time for anything.

‘If I may,’ Major Rennart said.

Slvasta looked at Rennart with interest. He wasn’t a regiment officer, but on assignment from the Lord General’s staff.

Gelasis gave him the floor.

‘I’d like to second the proposal, and move that it is forwarded to the Treasury for a detailed cost–benefit and implementation timescale analysis.’

‘Is that good?’ Slvasta ’pathed privately to Arnice.

‘They’re taking it seriously, if that’s what you mean.’

‘How long will that take?’ Slvasta asked out loud.

‘I will see that it gets a top team,’ Rennart replied.

‘Yes, but how long until they finish reviewing it?’

Rennart glanced round the table, with a
what-can-you-do?
mien showing through his shell. ‘Those of us serving for a while are familiar with the progress of review
teams.’

That brought several chortles from the officers. The aides were starting to watch keenly.

‘Could you tell us newbies?’ Slvasta asked impassively.

‘The preliminary report shouldn’t take more than a year.’

‘A
year
?’ Slvasta couldn’t believe it. Aside from his attempts to try and spot any sign of Nigel within the myriad of reports he could request, Slvasta had devoted all
his efforts to engineering a switch to terrestrial horses. It was the first stage in what he considered the essential modernization of regimental practices. ‘Why does it need a year? And why
involve the National Treasury? This is a matter for individual adjutants, surely? My own Cham regiment was instigating the change when I left.’

‘That’s very commendable of them,’ Rennart said. ‘But if we start to issue advisement notices that involve any sizeable purchase, those same county adjutants will send
the bill back to the Treasury. And, believe me, young captain, you do not want to be held responsible for annoying the Captain’s Chief Chancellor.’

‘But—’

‘I’d advise you to listen to Major Rennart,’ Colonel Gelasis said. ‘We have a way of doing things here. I understand that they are slow and irritating to any serving
officer recently brought in from the field, but nonetheless this is the way that three thousand years of government has produced as best method. You cannot argue with that much history. Now,
captain, you have an excellent opportunity to see your proposal move forward towards enactment. If it is not approved for Treasury review, I will have no choice but to strike it from Council
policy. How do you wish to proceed?’

Arnice didn’t move. He wasn’t looking at Slvasta, and his face was perfectly impassive. ‘Take it,’ he ’pathed privately. ‘For the love of Giu, Slvasta, be
practical. The more paperwork you create, the harder it is for the administration to ignore it.’

Slvasta nodded formally to Major Rennart. ‘My apologies, I meant no disrespect. I am indeed accustomed to faster decisions. But, given this opportunity, I would like to second the proposal
for Treasury review.’

‘Splendid,’ Colonel Gelasis said. ‘Vote, gentlemen, please.’

Everyone raised a hand.

‘Excellent. Major Rennart, kindly see that through. Now, item fifteen, provision to increase sweep deployment remuneration for reserve forces’ daily food consumption.’

Slvasta didn’t even bother to listen. Once again he hated himself for being beaten, for playing their game. He hated Arnice for being right, too. There was only one way to do things
– the same way there’d always been. Friends of the Treasury officials who owned stud stables would be brought up to speed about the proposal, allowing them to prepare their responses to
the official request to purchase bid, when it was eventually issued.
In about ten years’ time.

‘You did well,’ Arnice assured him as they walked down the stairs together afterwards.

‘It doesn’t feel like it,’ Slvasta told him.

‘Nonsense. You’ve only been here eighteen months, and you’ve already got the Lord General reviewing a proposal.’

‘I suppose . . .’

‘Well, not the Lord General himself, more like his staff.’

‘Right.’

‘Actually, if we’re being realistic: his staff’s clerks.’

‘You’re always such a comfort, aren’t you?’

‘Look at it this way: I’ve never had an item moved up to that level.’

‘All right. So what happens now?’

‘They’ll spend a year and a vast amount of money messing it about and watering it down, then it’ll be shown to one of the Chancellor’s junior under-secretaries,
who’ll add his own notes and send it back for further review. After it’s been bounced around for a while with everyone contributing to show their own worth and importance, it’ll
be sent up to the National Council financial review board for a final vote. Oh yes, and you’ll be the one who presents it to them. A wife like Lanicia will give you greater kudos when you
do.’

‘Water it down?’ Slvasta asked incredulously. ‘We either buy the horses or we don’t. How can that be watered down?

Arnice raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll find out. Treasury chaps can be rather inventive when it comes to purchase proposals. Always have been. That’s just the way of it.’

Slvasta wanted to bellow in frustration. To think, when he woke this morning he’d assumed he would finally be making progress. ‘Then maybe it shouldn’t be the way of
it.’

‘Ah, a
revolution
,’ Arnice said. ‘Now there’s a true goal for you. Be nice to your old upper-crust friends when it comes to putting us aristos in front of the
firing squad, eh?’

‘I certainly won’t forget what you’ve done for me.’

‘I should think not. Starting with the Piarro at eight thirty tonight. Don’t be late.’ Arnice patted him on the shoulder and hurried on down the stairs to hail another group of
officers.

Slvasta watched him talk to them, the easy chat and smiles. He almost envied the way Arnice knew everyone, knew what to say and how to comport himself. If it had been Arnice putting the proposal
forward, it wouldn’t be diverted by Major crudding Rennart. He had the connections, knew the way to smooth progress. The embodiment of the very system that was thwarting Slvasta.

‘I’m out for the afternoon,’ Slvasta told Keturah and Thelonious when he reached his office.

‘But, sir, you’ve got—’

‘Don’t argue,’ he snapped at Keturah. ‘Rearrange things.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Her shell didn’t quite harden fast enough to conceal her resentment at the way she was being treated.

BOOK: The Abyss Beyond Dreams
4.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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