Eclipse, p.17
Eclipse, page 17
‘Thank you,’ she said, muffled.
The door burst open and a small child, four or five years old, burst in, running and waving something in his hand. He skidded to a halt inches from the grill.
Heart in her mouth, Haezle recognised him as Ani, Konoroz’s grandson.
‘Boy!’ shouted Konoroz, trying to scold whilst hiding his obvious delight at the surprise visit.
‘Sorry, Poppa.’ Ani’s reply came in the form of a stage whisper.
‘You came to learn how to cook? You’re a good boy, thinking about your Poppa. Where’s your father?’
‘I don’t know,’ said the boy. ‘Do you like my aeroplane?’
He waved the paper aeroplane in his hand, flying it around his head, looking at Haezle for approval. She nodded appreciatively.
Konoroz flipped a fish, which leaked onto the hotplate, causing a sizzle and cloud of new, peculiar odours.
‘Urgh! Fish!’ cried Ani, dropping his plane and running back out the way he had come.
Konoroz chuckled, turning to watch him go.
‘He’s a good boy,’ he said again. ‘If he doesn’t spend too much time with his father, he will do fine…’
Haezle was familiar with Konoroz’s disappointment in his own son, so it didn’t matter too much that she wasn’t really listening anymore. She bent down to pick up the aeroplane from where it had dropped on the floor.
Something about the piece of paper it was made from had caught her eye, seemed familiar somehow. As she unfolded it, she could see exactly what it was.
The paper was a poster or a flyer of some sort. There was writing on it, but it wasn’t any kind of script she was familiar with. It looked like the abstract symbols you might find in a library book at the Citadel.
That wasn’t what had grabbed her attention, though. On the poster there was a hand drawn symbol. A familiar one - a moon cut in half by a sword. The same symbol that she’d seen on Estrel’s Echo.
‘Fuck,’ she whispered.
CHAPTER 34
LAGRANGE
It’s a stroke of luck. I don’t really believe in luck, as a matter of course, but I’ll take this. We’ve got a very limited amount of time to find anything out, and I need to talk to a lowlife. Normally, that would require me to head down to Docklands, hang around a bar - typically the Bosun’s Locker, because then
I can use Kamla’s influence to help me grease some wheels.
It would be a long, drawn-out process, involving a lot of drink, potentially some drugs, and probably a fight or two. More importantly, that would be a nighttime activity, but it’s ten in the morning and we don’t have time to mess around. Fortunately, we have a member of Eamer’s crew in the cells. To make things better, it’s Antonio, and I think I can work with Antonio. I just need to persuade him he can work with me.
Getting access isn’t as hard as it should be. I know L, who’s manning the desk this morning, well enough that she won’t ask me too many questions about why I want to interview a detainee - something that would normally fall to a Junior Oficier, at least. It helps that said Junior Oficiers, and their Senior superiors, are mostly out at Administration trying to wrap up the mess from the Chaguartay rally, so that even if she was inclined to follow up there isn’t anyone to follow up with.
Every cell has an attached interview room, and that’s where Antonio is waiting for me. As Cadets, we’re not supposed to enter a room with a detainee on our own, it’s against protocol, but I don’t think that I have anything to worry about with Antonio and, besides, Mortimer isn’t going to be a lot of use to me. If anything, it’s less of a risk leaving him outside. He stays in the lobby with L, watching us on the screens.
Antonio doesn’t seem that pleased to see me. I suppose he’s not enjoyed our hospitality all that much.
‘What do you want?’ he demands, as I slide myself onto the bench opposite him.
‘I’ve just come to talk,’ I say, which is true. ‘I hear you’ve not been doing a lot of that.’
‘You sent that cunt down. I’m not talking to him.’
“That cunt” is Pestril. He’s not, incidentally, he’s a decent guy and a Senior Oficier with a strong reputation for fairness and actually solving cases and preventing crimes. That’s a unique combination. I admire the guy. I wouldn’t go as far as saying I would want to be like him. Admirable as he is, people call him a cunt behind his back.
‘I told you, I can’t be the one to interview you. There is a pre-existing relationship that could compromise my impartiality.’
‘Fuck that. You’re just scared to talk to me because you know what she did.’
“She” in this context is Kamla. Kamla played a big part in Antonio screwing up enough to find himself detained. Kamla didn’t entirely follow protocol. I did explain what protocol was, and she definitely paid no attention to anything I said.
Frankly, it’s a mess. If it gets out, Antonio is certainly going to get out scot free and I need to hope to The Creator that no one realises my part in the whole affair. That would be the point where we move from Antonio being a criminal caught in the act of criminal behaviour, albeit with a somewhat nonsensical plan, to Antonio being the victim of entrapment.
That wouldn’t look good for me. As far as I know, Antonio is the only person who could actually put two and two together and rat me out. It sounds like he might be getting close. Fortunately, I now have a new plan which has fallen into my lap entirely by chance. I am a lucky bastard.
‘I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, but none of that matters anymore, Antonio. I think I can get you out of here. I just need some information. I think that the higher-ups are going to be so grateful that any previous misdemeanours might be considered by the by.’
‘What about our “pre-existing” relationship?’
‘Don’t worry about that. Things have changed.’
‘I don’t trust you.’
That was what I was worried about. He knew who I was before he was arrested, knew what I did for a living. Many Authority agents hang out in Docklands. Many Authority agents will turn a blind eye to the activities of their companions, and not always because they’re being paid off.
That’s not me. I do feel at home where the morality is more optional, but I take my job seriously. I believe in this city and there’s a line which I won’t cross. Nor should anyone else.
Antonio isn’t so bad. He doesn’t really deserve to be in here. Kamla stitched him up, and I’m still not sure why. She is deadly when she’s scorned, though, and that might be part of it.
All of this is irrelevant if I can’t convince him I can get him out if he tells me what I need to know. Then the pressure’s on to actually get him out of here before he realises it was all bullshit and tells someone about Kamla and me. One problem at a time, though.
‘Look, Antonio, I know this hasn’t gone to plan. Any of it. But I really need your help. And you know I’m straight up. If you tell me what I need to know, then I won’t let you down. You know I won’t. I suspect that this information is no skin off your nose, anyway…’
I stop talking. There’s an art to persuading people to do what you want, and it involves far less talking than most people would imagine. The silence hangs between us. Antonio sneers. I absorb every bad vibe he’s bombarding me with. None of it matters, not if I can get him to cooperate.
I’m sure he knows. He must know. What am I going to do if he doesn’t know?
‘What?’ he asks.
I’m in. I take my Com out of my pocket and flick the screen on. I don’t need to find the image, I’ve already loaded it. It’s not the best quality; it’s a photo of a screen, with all the glare and reflection you’d expect. But it’s the real thing, not my poor quality half-recollection, and I can see the spark of recognition in Antonio’s eye the moment he clocks it.
‘You know what this is, don’t you?’
He nods slowly, looking carefully at me through hooded eyes.
‘Do you?’
I admit I don’t. He picks up my Com and tilts its screen towards himself.
‘I guess the cat’s out of the bag, then,’ he says. The way he says it is curious. It’s like a sigh, but it’s not weary. If anything, he seems excited. He’s almost breathless with it.
I’m excited. Those words, the idea that there was a cat to be let out of anything. I lean forward.
‘What does it mean?’
Antonio laughs.
‘That’s what you want to know? That’s the information you’re going to get me out of here in exchange for?’
It seems a fair exchange to me. The air between us is almost fizzing with the promise of whatever this is. Antonio laughs again and I think I’ve made a mistake.
‘I’ll tell you everything. Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘But I’d better tell you quick, because in about an hour you’re going to know all about it and then I’ve got no currency. Our deal still stands, though. Even when everything I’ve got to say becomes common knowledge…’
In some senses, he’s talking himself out of a deal right now. But I think he knows I’m desperate. I think he knows I want to know fast.
I’m not certain why I want to know so badly. There’s no case here, nothing to solve. Nothing that will get me ahead, nothing to feed my ambition.
But I found it first. I saw the connection. I uncovered the conspiracy. And something is about to happen, something big. If I know what it is, then I might have a chance to stop it. That could mean something.
‘It’s the Clippers,’ says Antonio. He jabs a finger at the Com, leaving a large, greasy fingerprint on my screen. ‘This is the symbol of the Clippers of the Black Night.’
‘Who are the Clippers? What’s the Black Night?’
I’ve never heard of either of them, but the way he says it imbues it with meaning that he seems to expect me to understand.
‘Well, that’s the question.’ Antonio leans back and folds his hands behind his head. ‘It might be a movement, it might be a cult. It might be an actual, literal Black Night. It might be an eclipse. What everyone agrees is that it’s going to change everything.’
‘Change everything? Change everything how?’
‘We’re going to tear this city down. Whatever the Black Night is, most of us don’t care. It’s a moment of transition. A moment of chaos. We’re taking over…’
“Most of us don’t care…” are the only words I hear.
‘Who does care?’ I ask.
‘You should care. You should all fucking care. I like you, Sim, but you’re one of them. You’re part of the problem. You and all your Authority chums are going to find yourself strung up from the city walls…’
‘No, no… you said “most of us don’t care”. So somebody cares. Who cares?’
‘Who do you think? Eamer’s obsessed with this shit. He’s like you. He won’t let anything rest unless he understands every detail. He’s been seeing some psychic…’
This does not sound like Eamer.
‘Eamer’s been seeing a psychic?’
‘Well, maybe not a psychic. But he’s got a new best friend. Weird woman. Wears funny clothes. Talks all sorts of nonsense. Got some really strange ideas about the way the world works. Like she believes in magic or something… she’s got him believing he’s got some kind of destiny to lord it over the rest of us. I don’t know. I reckon there’s every chance someone shivs him the chaos we’re about to unleash. I’m sorry that I’m going to miss it. Stuck in here. But at least that means no one is going to shiv me…’
Eamer. Eamer’s the key. I don’t listen to anything else Antonio’s saying. I’m on my feet.
CHAPTER 35
ESTREL
We took the miniTram to Docklands. We didn’t talk en route. Mouse liked to sit on her own and stare out of the window, so we did that. I was in the seat behind her. I spent the entire rickety journey staring at the back of her head.
It seemed a bit creepy on my part, but I couldn’t help myself and she didn’t seem to notice. To be fair, it wasn’t as creepy as it could have been. I ached to touch her. I didn’t know how much longer I could be in her company without giving myself away.
I needed to be somewhere else. I couldn’t bring myself to do that, either, though. Which is why, once we arrived at Eamer’s, I accepted her offer of help to find me somewhere to stay.
She was being very nice to me, a complete stranger from her perspective. I did ask about that.
‘I don’t know,’ she’d said. ‘It’s funny isn’t it? I don’t usually help people for free. There’s something about you, Estrel…’
Talk about making my heart sing and my stomach drop simultaneously.
‘Blame the universe?’ she suggested. ‘I feel like I need to make sure you’re OK. I can’t explain it.’
‘Well, thank you,’ I said.
‘I don’t like it,’ she laughed. ‘So don’t get used to it. I seem to owe the universe a debt, although I can’t imagine why. This ends the moment I discharge myself from that obligation.’
So Mouse’s debt to the universe meant she was sorting out my accommodation. I did need somewhere to stay. I couldn’t exactly sleep on Lek’s floor now that Lek wasn’t who he was meant to be. I didn’t know who had his quarters in the Citadel, but it was fairly certain that they wouldn’t see it as their job to put me up.
It was, of course, something I could have done myself. I had never been in Trinity in exactly this time period before, but it was close enough to when I had that I knew where I could crash, where wouldn’t ask questions, where I wouldn’t have to sleep with a knife in my boxers in case I got robbed while I slept.
But I couldn’t admit to that, either. I had to continue to play dumb. It was just as well I had Mouse on my side. Even if she was taking her sweet time to sort anything out.
For the time being, I was sitting in a booth in the corner, nursing a pint. My intention had been to bide my time, quietly drink my beer, watch Mouse at work, talk to no one, do nothing, leave the timeline as alone as humanly possible. Then Fricker had slid into my booth.
I knew Fricker. I’d done business with him in the past. My past, his future. He was a technological genius. He could hack anything, convert anything, rig up whatever you wanted to do whatever you needed, given a little time and appropriate payment.
But that wouldn’t be for a few years, and it wasn’t like we were close. Which was why it was weird that his first words to me were “Hello Estrel”.
I stared at him over the rim of my glass.
‘Who?’
Fricker grinned.
‘It’s OK Estrel, it’s me. You don’t have to worry. No one else can hear us.’
‘Why would I worry about anyone else being able to hear us? And my name’s not…’
‘OK, OK, OK… Have it your way. But you can trust me, you know you can. It’s me, it’s Fricker. We did that whole…’
I put my glass down. Fricker shouldn’t have known who I was. We hadn’t met yet, not from his perspective. Except…
There were a lot of me. In the place outside time where Lek and I had escaped to, after the thing with the two Evies, after I’d shot and killed Oficier Lagrange, there had been a lot of me.
Lek had sent me back here. I didn’t know exactly what happened to the others. It stood to reason that he’d sent them somewhere, too. Maybe someone had turned up not that long before me. It would be possible that Fricker and I had already met.
Was it possible that Mouse and I had, too? If we had, she wouldn’t be pretending not to know me now, would she? Whoever this other Estrel was, it didn’t seem that he’d been completely reckless. Fricker knew who I was, but Fricker wasn’t exactly important to me. Not like Mouse was.
It struck me that maybe he hadn’t known. Perhaps he was a version of me who had never met Fricker, who had never had need of Fricker’s specialist services and had been plucked from his timeline without ever having met the man. Maybe he’d been careful about Mouse, but hadn’t known to be careful of Fricker.
Was that possible? I needed to ask Lek. Lek had the answers. Lek always had the answers.
Except he didn’t. Not here. Not now. Because of that, I didn’t have them either. Was that my fault? Had another of my parallel selves caused whatever had happened to Lek?
There had been a lengthy silence between us now. Fricker was looking twitchy.
‘Thanks for the Com, man,’ he said, eventually. ‘It’s a neat bit of tech, the ComN. It was good to get the chance to take it apart.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Good, good.’ Fricker grinned, more confidently. ‘I’ve got the right guy, then.’
‘I don’t understand. Why would you think I brought you a Com to take apart?’
‘Oh, because you did. You did. But not “you” you. Not this you.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I said, again.
‘You warned me about this.’ He grabbed my pint glass and took a swig. ‘Thanks, needed that. Right. So. Once upon a time, not that long ago, I met you for the first time. You told me you were a time traveller, and we did some business. The thing with the Com. It will come in handy next year when it finally comes out…’
That was messy. Why would I give Fricker a new model Com device a good year before it came out? What was I up to?
‘So you’ve met me before?’
‘Yeah, yeah and, like I said, you told me you were a time traveller and that things could get complicated if you weren’t very, very careful. So you said that every time I met you I should pretend like I didn’t already know you, right…’
This, I realised would actually explain a lot about my relationship with Fricker in the future. I always assumed he struggled to remember things like faces, or names, or entire past conversations with people. I’d put it down to some nasty solvent fumes he was inadvertently inhaling in the course of his work.
