De Bruyn had hoped for more, but she was content with anything at all. She at least had more knowledge, now, of Roche’s life on Ascensio, and that knowledge could be verified in time. All she needed was one person to say that they recalled Roche, and De Bruyn would have the proof that the official information had been covered up.
She was still missing the why, though. That would be much harder to find, she was sure.
At her instigation, Lemmas dug deeper. A life as unremarkable as that of any other orphan from an out-of-the-way world presented itself: her hopes, her fears; her delights, her disappointments; her ambitions, her failures; her dreams, and her everyday anxieties. The COE was full of people like her.
So why, then, De Bruyn wondered, had she been chosen? And, more importantly, for what?
After four hours, they took a break. De Bruyn was tired and, although he displayed nothing but cool aloofness, she suspected that Lemmas was also feeling the strain. Roche’s condition was a concern, too. De Bruyn couldn’t tell exactly what the autosurgeon’s data meant, but the patient was showing signs of extreme stress. That was the idea, of course, but it was possible to push too far too soon.
<Do you know now what you are looking for?> Lemmas asked.
“No.” She didn’t feel inclined to discuss her quest with the reave; the fact that he could reach into her mind and pluck out the information himself only made his asking all the more insincere. “How deep can you dig?”
<As deep as required,> he said with unfaltering confidence.
“Is it possible to hide information from you?”
<Conceivably, but not permanently,> he admitted. <She is already doing it.>
“How?”
<There is a block in her. I touch it whenever we talk about her mission for Intelligence.>
“Which aspect of the mission?”
<The AI.>
“What about the AI?”
<1 don’t know. That’s what the block is for.>
She ignored his sarcasm. “Can you break through it?”
<It is crude but effective. I suspect the girl, Maii, put it in place at Roche’s request. Given time, it will unravel.>
“Could it be that she doesn’t want anyone to know that the Box still exists?”
<Perhaps.>
She studied Roche’s face in silence for a moment. Bruised, missing one eye, encrusted with blood, the woman was barely recognizable. Fleetingly De Bruyn wondered if she might be wrong—if Roche wasn’t as important as she had first thought. What would she do if all this had been for nothing?
But there was no getting past the enemy’s fixation on her: the way they had disseminated her name and interfered with her work among the Vax, the Fathehi, and the Noske. And what of Adoni Cane? It all had to fit together somehow. If she wasn’t herself a clone warrior, then there had to be another explanation.
De Bruyn glanced again at Roche’s genetic code. The unidentifiable sections remained just as mysterious as they had been before, different from those of the clone warriors and any known Caste. Random mutations? She didn’t know. But at least now she had that data.
<Reverence?> The voice came from the command network, not the reave. <We’ve spotted a ship that looks like it might be matching our orbit,> said the pilot.
She felt a tiny shot of adrenaline. <Are you sure?>
<Not one hundred percent. It could be chance...>
<Unlikely,> she said. <Any stray emissions?>
<A few. It might be the Apostle, but we haven’t been signaled yet.>
A slight apprehension tightened her gut. The idea of the Disciples’ leader arriving made her uneasy. <They wouldn’t announce themselves too soon for fear of detection,> she said. <Keep an eye on the ship and let me know if there’s any change.>
<Yes, Reverence.> The pilot went back to his work with no mention of Roche. That side of their mission was not relevant to him.
But cracking Roche was relevant to De Bruyn, and she was conscious now of time running out.
“Let’s continue,” she said, approaching the table.
The reave inclined his head. <As you command, Reverence.> Earlier, he had removed the pack covering the great wound through Roche’s chest. Smoke came from where his index finger now brushed the stump of her shattered clavicle. <What is it you wish to know now?>
She only had to think for a second; there were so many questions to choose from. “Find out if she knew anything about the enemy prior to her meeting with Adoni Cane.”
He probed Roche’s mind at the same time as he sent her nerves jangling with pain. <No.>
“Then did she know anything unusual about the Box prior to commencing her mission on the Midnight?”
<No, nothing at all.>
“Has she ever had any contact with Eupatrid Gastel or his predecessor?”
<No.>
“Does she know why I was sacked?”
<No. She doesn’t even know you’ve been sacked.>
De Bruyn sighed. She hadn’t really believed it would be so easy—but it would have been nice.
She tried another tack: Did Roche know how the clone warriors communicated among themselves? Did she know why Cane was helping her? Did she know who made him? Did she know why she seemed to be the only one who could find them?
The answers came as rapidly as De Bruyn fired the questions, and each time the response was the same: No.
Her questioning became bolder, and Lemmas’s probing blunter: Was Roche aware of any plan to the engagements in Sol System? Was the fact that they were in Sol System in the first place significant, or was that just chance? To her knowledge, was the planetary ring as dire a navigation hazard as the Heresiarch feared—and if so, why?
But again, Roche had no knowledge of these things.
De Bruyn moved down to details. Had Proctor Klose, captain of the Midnight, known anything about Cane? What about Uri Kajic, ex-captain of the Ana Vereine? Why did she think Cane’s introns were so important? Did she know where Jelena Heidik was hiding, or how many of the enemy were still at large in the system? Did she know anything at all about the movements of the enemy?
Within fifteen minutes De Bruyn guessed that Roche in fact didn’t know anything about the big picture; two hours more and she was convinced of it. Nevertheless, she persisted, digging for what she suspected might remain behind a veil she hadn’t pulled back yet, working through her own fatigue and the continuing fluctuation of Roche’s condition. If the reave’s finer efforts weren’t successful, maybe sheer persistence would win the day.
The trouble was, she was running out of questions. Since the only area she had taken steps to avoid was that of the Box, it was there that De Bruyn finally turned. She didn’t know why it was important, but Roche clearly thought so, and that was enough for her.
“What can we do about that block?”
<We can try two things: break it down, or circumvent it.> The reave was weary but still compliant.
“How difficult is the latter?”
<Less difficult than complicated. No knowledge can be completely hidden; even when removed from conscious thought it leaves echoes. Locating those echoes, those secondary and tertiary iterations, is a time-consuming task. But it can be rewarding.>
“Give me an example.”
<Well, I can’t tell you whether Roche thinks this Box is destroyed or not, but I can tell you that she thinks that she has talked with it in the recent past.>
“What about?”
<That I cannot tell you.>
“Then where is it?” De Bruyn said, then added: “Or where does she think it is?”
<That I cannot tell you either. But I do know that the valise that once contained it was a decoy, and that was destroyed in Palasian System.>
“What has the Box been doing since?”
<Specifics are hidden in regard to this.>
“Does anyone else know about it?”
<Her reave friend, presumably: Maii. No other name is mentioned, except that of the High Human you refer
to as the Crescend.>
“Really? How is he involved?”
<Again, I have no access to information regarding that.> De Bruyn felt her frustration growing. This was worse than getting nothing at all. However, she was beginning to see how it worked. Direct questions would get her nowhere; she had to go around the issue and tackle it from behind. “Can you tell me why the Box is important?”
<No.>
“Is it connected to the Crescend somehow?”
<Roche seems to think so.>
“How?”
<Not connected so much, perhaps, but part of. Her understanding of the situation here is particularly vague. It has troubled her—hence the leakage around the block.>
De Bruyn pondered this with interest. The Box and the Crescend were connected, it seemed—perhaps more intimately than anyone could have guessed. “Where is the Crescend?”
<She doesn’t know.>
“What is he doing?”
<She doesn’t know
“Is she working for him?”
<If she is, she isn’t aware of it.>
“Has she at least spoken to him?”
<Through the Box, perhaps, although that also is vague.>
“Why is he so important?”
<She doesn’t know.>
“Why is she so important?” Frustration gave De Bruyn’s voice a bitter edge, one she instantly regretted. Even though Lemmas couldn’t actually hear it, he would certainly read the emotion behind it.
The reave stiffened slightly, but didn’t reply. “What? Have you found something?”
<No. I was simply listening—>
<Reverence?> broke in the pilot.
<What, Wamel?>
<We have received orders to dock with the Apostle. It has assumed an approach vector and will be in position in ten minutes.>
She closed her eyes, annoyed. The timing couldn’t have been worse. <What do they want?>
<They have not said, Reverence.>
<Are they waiting for a reply?>
<No. Confirmation is not necessary.>
That was a polite way of saying that nothing would stop him from obeying that order to dock—not even De Bruyn.
<Give me an airlock and I’ll meet you there.>
<Deck 4, Reverence.>
She killed the line.
“We’re done here for now,” she told Lemmas. “Maybe it’s not a bad thing. She’ll have a chance to heal.” She glanced down at Roche’s broken and bloodied body on the table and nodded to herself. “We’ll resume later.”
* * *
Wamel was at Deck 4 ahead of her, straightening his robes. They watched together through the command network as a singleship detached from the many-spined Apostle. Again, their environment was dark, so the images were either gloomily portentous or painted in surreal colors. De Bruyn remembered the first time she had encountered the cruiser, and felt a similar dread.
The singleship approached with bright flares from its thrusters, moving confidently across the gap between the two ships. Its approach took barely two minutes, during which time De Bruyn did her best to maintain her composure. She didn’t have any doubt who would be in the singleship.
It docked with a bump heard clearly through the rigid bulkheads of God’s Monkey. Via the command network she saw it anchor firmly in place not far from her own fighter, Kindling. There was silence for a moment, then came the sound of the outer door of the airlock opening. There was another pause, followed by a hiss as the door shut again. Then the inner door was open and Cane’s twin walked through.
<Master.> Wamel bowed at the sight of the black-robed figure.
The clone warrior didn’t acknowledge him. His face was exposed, and his eyes sought De Bruyn. “You have her?”
“Yes.” As uneasy as he made her feel, she refused to defer to him the way the Disciples did. “How goes the campaign against the Phlegethon?”
He smiled. “The arrangement has been profitable for both of us.”
She thought of Trezise for a moment, and wondered if her old colleague had any idea what had happened—if he even suspected just how thoroughly she had betrayed him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I want to see her. Is she still alive?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” said the clone warrior.
De Bruyn frowned. “Why? What does it mean to you?”
“We are curious.”
“About what?”
“That is not your concern.”
“I disagree,” said De Bruyn. “Everything to do with her is my concern.”
“I think the truth would appall you.”
“But the truth is exactly what I’m looking for.”
De Bruyn paused to digest this. “Do you expect me to believe that?”
“I expect nothing of you.”
“Could you explain—”
“No. I will not,” he said. “We appreciate your efforts in neutralizing this threat to us. With Roche out of the way, our work can continue unchecked.”
De Bruyn felt suddenly cold. Whether he was merely posturing or not, the thought was sobering. “And what is your work, exactly?”
“What do you see?”
Her laugh was humorless. “I see nothing but destruction.”
“What you fail to see is justice.” There was no mistaking the passion and anger in his voice. “There is no higher aspiration, De Bruyn. You should know that.”
His smile was gone. And something in his expression warned her not to push any further.
“Take me to her,” he said. “I want to see her with my own eyes.”
She turned and led the way to where Roche was being held. Cane’s twin followed her silently, with Wamel bringing up the rear. Along the way, De Bruyn turned over in her mind everything the clone warrior had said. What if he was telling the truth? What if she had somehow ruined any hope at all of defeating the enemy?
The autosurgeon had tended to Roche’s minor injuries by the time they reached her. Her skin was a patchwork of healing strips and salves, and the pack was back on her shoulder wound. Her readings had stabilized slightly, although they still seemed odd to De Bruyn.
The clone warrior stepped up to the table and looked down upon the patient. “What have you learned so far?” he said, his dark eyes studying Roche’s embattled body with dispassionate interest.
“Very little,” De Bruyn confessed. “Perhaps if we knew what to look for—”
“You still wouldn’t find it.” Cane’s twin faced her. “Because you’re looking in the wrong place.”
“But... you said she was the key.”
“May yet be the key, is what I said. Even if she is, the key itself holds nothing. What the key is for is the important thing, and to know that you must have everything else: the lock, the door, the room beyond...” He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort.
“You’re talking about Sol System, aren’t you?” she asked, riding a hunch. “That’s where I should be looking?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s why you’ve come here: you’re looking for something too.”
“In a sense,” he said. “If Roche is the key, and Sol System is the lock, then the room beyond contains the justice we seek.”
Remembering his metaphor, she asked: “And what is the door?”
His smile returned. “That is the one remaining issue we must deal with,” he said. “Then our business in the galaxy can truly begin.”
His expression was relaxed enough, but De Bruyn sensed a terrible energy radiating from him. She felt like a moth flying into a furnace, only slowly realizing just how dangerous her environment was becoming.
If the enemy’s work in the galaxy hadn’t even begun, where would it stop? When every Pristine Human was dead? Every mundan
e, including the Exotics? When all that remained was High and Low Humans?
It was all very well to think in abstract terms about the enemy and their apparent desire to destroy Humanity, but De Bruyn found it disturbing to be confronted with the possibility that it might actually come true.
Or was he just bluffing? She clutched at this thought. Maybe he was trying to put her off balance. And if that were so, then she would have to find some way to regain control of the situation
“We did find something unexpected,” she said.
His stare was cold and penetrating, his silence demanding she continue.
“The Box,” she said. “It still exists. Roche was lying when she said it had been destroyed.”
His eyes narrowed. “How do you know this?”
“It interfered with our escape from the Phlegethon,” she said. “It infiltrated the ship’s systems and tried to take us over. We very nearly didn’t get away. If I hadn’t guessed what was happening and shut everything down in time, we wouldn’t have made it a thousand kilometers.”
“Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” said the clone warrior, suddenly alert and interested.
She bristled at the question. “Of course I’m sure,” she said. “I’ve seen it in action before.”
His gaze drifted back to Roche. “But it’s not possible,” he mused aloud. “It couldn’t be...”
He stepped back to the table, leaning slightly over Roche’s helpless form. In a loud and clear voice, he said: “Silence between thoughts.”