The Dark Imbalance (12 page)

She took one last chance to be still, standing in the middle of the room and breathing deeply three times. Then, rubbing vaguely at the back of her head, she set off for the bridge.

* * *

“As I said, I don’t
care
who you say you are,” said the figure on the main screen. “You have
no
papers we recognize,
no
jurisdiction over us, and, as far as I can tell, no reason to even
be
here. Therefore, we have no reason to let you dock. So unless you change your orbit and move away, I will assume your intentions to be hostile and be forced to take appropriate action.”

“And I’ve told
you
,” Roche said. “We had private business with Atul Ansourian. He was supposed to meet us here!”

“I’m not stupid, Roche,” said the official, his bald, yellowish scalp crinkling as he spoke. “Your ship is camouflaged, and you won’t tell us what your business with Atul was. Yes, we’ve heard of you, but not through him. He never mentioned you at all.”

“There has to be someone else there we can talk to, surely?” snapped Roche.

The man sighed tiredly. “I can pass your query through to the administer if I really have to, but I don’t think it’ll do you any good.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Roche said. “Just get her on the line! I’d rather talk to her than waste my time with you.”

The line closed without another word from the man. Roche vented her frustration by thumping the station in front of her.

“Maybe we should just try bribing him,” said Haid.

“On an open line?” She shook her head. “That’d just give them another excuse to turn us away.”

“And if they turn us away, anyway?”

She looked over at Haid and forced a smile. “
Then
we might give it a try,” she said.

Five minutes later, the line opened again to reveal another yellow-skinned, bald male. Except that his face was rounder and his eyes more deeply set than the previous official, Roche would have had trouble distinguishing between them.

“I am Dockmaster Rench,” he said, his voice smooth. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. Dock 14-B will be cleared for your approach—with the proviso that you drop your camouflage and declare your crew. Should you fail to comply with these conditions, access to this habitat
will
be denied.”

“Agreed.” Roche’s response was immediate; she had little choice. She instructed Kajic to reveal the
Ana Vereine
and Vri’s ship to the habitat; then she named each of her companions in turn. “Is that sufficient, Rench?”

The dockmaster studied something off-screen. “I don’t recognize your configuration. Somewhere local?”

“Dato Bloc, a Commonwealth of Empires splinter government.” She figured it didn’t hurt to be open about some things.

He nodded. “Looking a bit rough around the edges for something clearly so new.”

“We’ve seen some action,” she admitted.

“Who hasn’t?” He half smiled. “Prepare to dock, Roche. I’ll have someone meet you down there.”

Kajic followed navigation buoys into the crowded docks. Numerous ships of various types occupied most of the available gantries; some seemed to be undergoing repairs while others were idle, perhaps loading or unloading cargo and passengers. Most of them were support craft for the various military forces massing in the system. Roche recognized a COE Armada cruiser among them, although the name painted on its side—
Paraselene—
didn’t ring a bell.

With a clang, the
Ana Vereine
docked with the massive structure. Shaped like a mutated sea anemone, the former military station had sprouted numerous access tubes and containers, crossing and recrossing, branching and rebranching away from a barely glimpsed central section. Its asymmetry reminded Roche of a coral, yet its angular edges and corners made her think of crystal deposits.

Outfitted with side arms and hazard suits, Roche and Maii stepped from their ship into the dock’s grease-smelling antechamber. The entire area rang to the sound of metal striking metal, over the rumble of a thousand voices speaking at once. There was a striking contrast between the habitat and the vast empty spaces of the
Phlegethon.
It seemed to be full of crates, machines, and people of all shapes and sizes. None of it looked familiar to Roche, used to the homogeneity spread by the Eckandi Trade Axis.

From among the bustle, a woman stepped forward to greet them. Short and muscular, wearing a purple uniform with black trim and a close-fitting cap, she had the same yellowish tinge to her skin as the other two officials Roche had spoken to. She assumed that they were all members of the Caste the Box had mentioned to her earlier: the Vax.

“Hello,” said the woman. Her voice was brisk but not unfriendly, and raised slightly to be heard above the clamor of the other voices around them. “I am Overseer Pacecca. Dockmaster Rench sent me to welcome you.”

Roche introduced herself and Maii. Pacecca eyed the girl’s blank visor for a second, then asked: “Your friend is blind?”

“Yes.” That seemed the simplest answer. “Her suit’s navigation systems are linked to mine; she won’t get in the way.”

“Very well.” Pacecca looked around her, as though realizing for the first time just how busy it was. “Perhaps we should go elsewhere to discuss why you’re here.”

“I’d prefer to talk to the administer,” said Roche.

“There isn’t much chance of that, I’m afraid,” said Pacecca. “She has taken the loss of Atul Ansourian very badly. You probably won’t get to see her for a while, when things settle down.”

The implication that the habitat failed to run without Atul Ansourian around backed up everything the Box had said. “Nevertheless, I’d like to try.”

Pacecca looked at her evenly, patiently. “Very well. I shall see what I can do. My assistant—” The overseer looked around irritably. “Quare!” she barked.

A man stepped forward from the crowd, dressed in a uniform similar to Pacecca’s, but green with gray trim. He looked like any number of faceless, middle-management lackeys Roche had seen over the years—slightly overweight, balding and stooped, yet with eyes that watched everything, keen to find an advantage.

“Yes, Overseer?” he said softly.

“This is Quare,” Pacecca said to Roche. “He will take you somewhere quieter.” She paused thoughtfully, as if considering her options.

“Perhaps Stateroom B?” the little man suggested.

She scowled at him. “Remember your station, Quare,” she warned disdainfully. “However,” she continued, turning her back to him, “Stateroom B
will
be fine.”

“Yes, Overseer,” said Quare, his head lowered.

Pacecca nodded, then faced Roche once more. “I’m sorry if we’re not more hospitable,” she said, distracted by something happening on the other side of the dock. “But what with the murder and the trouble with Guidon...” She shrugged helplessly. “Things have just been falling apart around here, I’m afraid. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to talk to you later.”

Roche barely had time to nod before the woman was off. She didn’t doubt that “later” meant “
much
later”....

she asked the Box.

said the Box.

Quare stepped forward. “This way, please.” Natural caution made Roche double-check: “Where did you say you were taking us?”

“Somewhere to wait,” he said. “Away from all of this.” He gestured at the chaos around them. His expression remained blandly pleasant, with a hint of indifference. “The overseer will report to the dockmaster, who will in turn report to his superior. Your request to speak to the administer will be forwarded to her in due course. I’m sure it won’t take too long.”

“How long, exactly?”

“No more than a couple of days, I’m sure,” he said.

“A couple of
days
!”

He nodded. “Perhaps a little longer,” he said. “If you’d care to follow me—”

“We don’t have the time to sit around doing nothing while your precious administer decides whether or not to see us!” Roche was finding it difficult to keep her annoyance in check. “And even if we did, I’d do it on my own ship!”

“That is your decision, of course,” he said. “We would not expect you to...” He stopped, suddenly turning his attention to Maii. “Why is your reave attempting to probe my mind?”

Roche considered her options for a moment, then said:

Something in Quare’s face relaxed. “Thank you,” he said, to both of them. Then to Maii in particular: “Please do not try that again. It is considered by my people to be highly impolite.” And to Roche: “Now, do you wish to return to your ship?”

“No, we’ll come with you,” she said. “For now, at least.”

“Very well,” said Quare, then turned and led them through the chaotic activity on the dock.

said Haid via her implants.

Roche relayed what Maii had told her.

Roche said, hoping Haid was wrong.

he shot back. <1 don’t know. It’s just frustrating to sit here and watch. Even if you do get past him, it doesn’t sound like this administer is going to be much help.>

Quare took them through two large hangar doors, then along a corridor lined with a silvery metal. A hairpin bend brought them to another chamber, where it was at least quieter if still crowded. He waved them through some sort of security checkpoint, then took them deeper into the habitat.

do
you hope to get done?> Haid asked.

The Box would take charge of the latter, but she needed to put up a front for its behavior before she started producing conclusions based upon it.

said Haid.

Haid grunted his dissatisfaction with the situation.

said the Box to Roche.

Roche couldn’t pass that on without explaining where the information had come from.

Haid grunted again.

<1 have arranged the information so that it will be easy to access,> the Box whispered to Roche.

To Haid she replied:

She returned her attention to where they were going. The journey seemed to be taking a while, and had brought them to a relatively clean and quiet section of the habitat. White walls and ceiling and a gray floor made the area seem sterile, although the air smelled vaguely of Human sweat.

said Maii.

Roche remembered what Nemeth had said about using epsense to find a way past the enemy’s natural camouflage—and Haid’s half-serious suggestion that Quare might be a clone warrior.

The girl sent a mental shrug. is
something odd about him. I can use his senses, like I can with Cane when he lets me. But he doesn’t
feel
like Cane. Then again, apart from Cane, I’ve never really studied another clone warrior, so who’s to say they’ll all be exactly like him?>

irikeii
’s impression. He saw much deeper into things than I can. I can’t see that speck in Cane at all.>

Roche mulled this over.

Quare stopped at a door midway along the curving corridor they were following. He produced an old-fashioned key from his pocket and inserted it into a lock in the center of the door. It clicked open, and he gently pushed the door inward. It retreated a foot, then swung smoothly to one side, reminiscent of how some airlocks operated.

He took two steps inside, then gestured ahead of him. “Stateroom B,” he said. “You will be comfortable here.”

“Not if I have to wait two days, I won’t be.”

He didn’t smile. “We shall see,” he said, then urged them inside: “Please...”

Roche hesitated.

“I can stay with you if it will put your mind at ease,” he said, seeing her apprehension.

“That’s okay,” said Roche. “Just leave us the key, and we should be fine.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said. “Besides which, it is ineffective from the inside anyway.”

“In that case,” said Roche, “after
you
.”

He shrugged easily and stepped all the way into Stateroom B, which consisted of three connected rooms. From the comfortably furnished antechamber, Roche could see a conference room, with what looked like a small kitchen or toilet facility beyond that. There was a stale smell about the place, as though the air vents hadn’t been cleaned for a while.