As he approached the traditional Tribal entrance of three pairs of blast-proof pressure doors, they slid open one after another, revealing a long corridor that led into the heart of the building.
Benzamir hesitated. ‘They want me to go in.’
‘They should come to you. You’re vulnerable under the dome.’
‘They were my friends, Ari. Give me five minutes with them.’ He clustered his remotes and sent them on ahead, in case there was an attempt to separate him from them. Then he followed, using them to scan and spot and give him a picture of what was inside.
The link to Ariadne cut off as soon as he entered the shielded dome.
He walked on, into the open, and stopped to look around. His tactical display lit up, measuring distances, gauging threats. The remotes spun around him, memorizing the architecture and more.
Part of the space was occupied by a triple tier of identical habitats, all grown from the same matrix, their vacant balconies looking out onto a verdant parkland with engineered trees and plants. There was a lawn, and a small lake, and a maze of pathways snaking away towards the outer wall. The glaring overhead sun was filtered to a cool yellow disc that gave only diffuse shadows.
Benzamir recognized the designer in the design.
‘Glad to see Peri’s had time to do some gardening in between slaughtering the locals,’ he said.
A battlesuit moved from among the trees, a shadow of green and brown. It left deep imprints across the grass and finally stopped by the water. It had its own set of remotes, and there was a brief flurry of target acquisition before they settled down again.
One suit pinged the other: neither of them had thought to block the signals, or the information the transponder gave out. Benzamir gave the ghost of a smile when he found out who the rebels had chosen to speak to him.
‘Mahmood. We just can’t seem to keep away from each other, can we?’
‘You knew someone would come for you, Nilssen. I decided that it should be me, because after everything we’d gone through together – all the arguments, the campaigning, the speeches – I thought you’d listen to me. I thought you could be redeemed, and I could persuade the Council to treat you mercifully. Was I wrong?’
‘What do you think? Can you see any way back for us? Or,’ Nilssen said, ‘is the real reason you’re here that you’ve come to join us?’
‘I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it often, chasing you across the face of this planet, trying to find you without giving myself away. I’m still tempted.’
‘Then why not? There’s no one to stop you, no one watching what you do. No one to tell you off.’
Benzamir shook his head. ‘It’s too late for that. You have far too much blood on your hands. The monastery of Saint Samuil, the citadel of the Kenyan empire, even your own ship. How could you?’
‘You found her then? All very unfortunate,’ admitted the other man.
‘Unfortunate, Nilssen? You murdered your ship!’
‘She turned against us. We nearly died. We barely made it down in one piece,’ he shouted, and then, as if it would explain everything, he added: ‘She deleted the Great Library.’
It did. Everything finally came together.
‘Is that it?’ said Benzamir. ‘Is that what all this has been about? Dear God. Persephone finally found her conscience: she wiped the library. She’d beaten you, destroyed the one thing you needed. You could have admitted defeat, couldn’t you? Come home and faced justice. But no. You killed her instead.’
Nilssen clenched his giant fists. ‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘Oh no, it was much worse. You made an alliance with the Kenyans: you could trade the tech, but not the knowledge of how it worked. God forbid any of you should remember anything useful!’ Pop-ups rippled across Benzamir’s body, his barely constrained fury leaking through the mental guards. ‘So when you heard of the books, what did you do? You stole them and had all the monks killed. A shelf’s worth of antiques.’
‘We needed them,’ said Nilssen.
‘I’ve heard some crap excuses in my time. Remind me again why you came? I thought the grand plan was to lift everyone up, make them like us. When did you decide to do something different? Not so much the humble servant come to Earth to save it from ignorance and barbarity. More the all-powerful god whose capricious rules have to be obeyed or else. Was that what made Persephone turn on you?’
‘You’re such a sentimental fool. You care too much. Every good leader needs to forget compassion and look at the big picture. You’re not that sort of man, are you? I don’t expect you to understand. When we played together in crèche, you were always the one who did as he was told. Always the follower, little Michael.’
Past taunts burned inside Benzamir. It was all he could do to stop himself from attacking. ‘You have to answer for everything you’ve done. If you don’t surrender willingly to me now, I will take you back in chains – real chains. I know a man who can make them for me.’ He took a step forward, making the ground quiver. ‘It’s your choice, but you haven’t got long to decide.’
Nilssen laughed. ‘Surrender? To you? Why would we do that? I could never take anything you say seriously, Benzamir Mahmood. We’ve decided that you’ll stay with us for as long as we decide to keep you. Just hope you don’t outlive your usefulness.’ He paused. ‘What did you say?’
Now Benzamir was calm, back in control. Nilssen’s moment of hesitation was all it took. ‘We can’t carry on this conversation indefinitely. In two minutes Ariadne will launch kinetic weapons against all your structures. If you’re outside, unarmed, and under my protection, she’ll hold fire and you’ll live. If you’re not, you can take your chances with hypervelocity sabots. Either way, your dreams of world domination are over.’
‘You’re lying. She wouldn’t dare do that to us while you’re here.’
‘It’s all been arranged. Feel free to call her bluff.’
‘No.’ Nilssen looked up. ‘No! How could you do this? Tell her to stop.’
‘You’ll have to turn your glittershields off for that. I expect that’s something you don’t want to do, shipkiller.’
‘It was Peri. She did it! She’s the one who destroyed the brain. Not me.’ He tried one last time. ‘Benzamir, you were the most passionate of all of us. You wanted this!’
Benzamir balled his fists and stepped forward. The ground thundered as soil and stones sprayed out. ‘I didn’t want this! This disaster, this travesty, this heap of shit that you’ve made for yourselves. This isn’t what I argued for at all, and now I’ve taken away all your choices. Evacuate. Take no weapons. You’ve got just over a minute.’
Faces started to appear at the balcony windows. They could hear every word, and they were afraid.
‘No one is going anywhere,’ boomed a voice.
Benzamir looked up at a first-floor hab and saw Peri Renzo looking down at him. Once, he would have responded by grinning like an idiot.
‘You don’t have the balls carry this charade off any longer, Benzamir!’ she shouted. ‘You were always such a disappointment.’
‘The one thing you could never comprehend, Peri: that a man might give up his own life for what he thought was right.’
‘As you wish. Peter? Take him.’
CHAPTER 43
NILSSEN SCREAMED AND leaped. Weapon-pods spun and spat. His remotes darted and flashed. Benzamir was not there. He had launched himself backwards, as far and as fast as he could.
The remotes exchanged fire with each other; some fell out of the sky, molten one moment, frozen twisted ruins the next. Benzamir had more; when the opening salvo had finished, they turned on Nilssen. He staggered backwards, glowing gouges like fiery claw marks criss-crossing him.