“So let’s get this straight,” Dreyfus said.
“We’re talking about a state of curfew, in which no one can move, no one can communicate and in which no one has a democratic say in their own destiny?”
Gaffney winced: Dreyfus couldn’t tell if it was because of his injuries, or because of what Dreyfus had just said.
“But they’ll be safe, Tom. Not just today, not just tomorrow, but for the next ninety years and beyond. Under Aurora’s regime, the destabilising event will not be allowed to happen. The Glitter Band will persist.”
“In chains.”
“We’re talking about an interim security measure, not something that will have to remain in place in perpetuity. As the years roll on, Aurora will strive to identify the likely focus of the agent. Once the risk is quantified, the people can be handed back their own destiny.” Gaffney peered intently into the depths of the ceiling, as if searching for inspiration.
“Look at it this way, Tom,” he said reasonably, as if the two of them were only a hair’s breadth from agreement.
“A man is carrying a sharp instrument in a crowded space. He’s about to suffer an epileptic seizure. He could hurt himself, or those around him, if he is not unburdened of that instrument and perhaps restrained. What do you do? Do you sit back and respect his rights? Or do you take the action that will guarantee not only his safety, but that of everyone nearby?”
“I ask him nicely to drop the sharp instrument.”
“And you scare him in the process. He grips the instrument more tightly than ever. Now what?”
“I disarm him.”
“It’s too late. He cuts you anyway. Then the seizure kicks in and he starts hacking away at everyone else. Democracy is that sharp instrument, Tom. It’s the final weapon of the people, and sometimes they just can’t be trusted with it.”
“And you can.”
“Not me, not you. But Aurora?” Gaffney shook his head: not in denial, but in an awed inability to express whatever was running through his mind.
“She’s bigger than us. Faster and cleverer. I’d have my doubts, too, if I hadn’t been in her presence. But from the moment I first encountered Aurora, I’ve never had the slightest doubt that she’s the one to lead us forward, the one to guide us into the light.”
Dreyfus stood up and conjured the chair back into the floor.
“Thanks, Sheridan.”
“We’re done?”
“I think I’ve learned everything that you’re willing to tell me without coercion. You genuinely think this can’t be stopped, don’t you? That’s why you’re so content to tell me what Aurora has in mind.”
“It was touch and go for a while back there,” Gaffney said, confidingly.
“And I’ll admit that matters were pre-empted by your discovery of Clepsydra. Aurora had been hoping not to have to move until she had complete control of the entire Glitter Band.”
“You mean when Thalia made the upgrade to the entire ten thousand?”
“That was the idea. One second the ten thousand would have been in the hands of the citizenry, the next they would have been Aurora’s. It would have been the ultimate bloodless revolution, Tom. No one would have been hurt or inconvenienced. Human distress would have been kept to an absolute minimum.”
“Then I’m sorry I threw a wrench into her plans by doing my job.”
“It wasn’t much of a wrench, all told. Aurora had always been mindful that it might be necessary to begin the takeover in a piecemeal fashion, habitat by habitat. It really won’t make much difference in the long run, though. Those clouds of manufactured entities you mentioned earlier? You’re still in the dark about them, aren’t you?”
Dreyfus remained impassive, but something in his expression must have given the game away.
“The machines are mass-produced weevil-class war robots,” Gaffney said.
“Very simple, very rugged, with just enough autonomy to cross space between habitats. By itself, a single weevil can’t do much damage. But the manufactories are spewing them out by the hundreds of thousands. That’s a lot of weevils, Tom. Weight of numbers’ll get you in the end. Always does.”
“What will the weevils do when they reach the other habitats? Cut their way inside and kill everyone?”
“Given that the objective here is to preserve human life, that would be rather counterproductive, don’t you think?”
“So what, then?”
“The weevils are carrying copies of the same upgrade Thalia already installed in the first four habitats. Once they reach the target habitats, they’ll work their way inside and infect their cores with the same security hole. Aurora will then have complete control of six habitats, not four.”
“Your weevils will have to reach the polling cores first. The local citizenry are already standing by to protect them.”
“They’ll slow the weevils, but not stop them. There’ll always be more weevils. The manufactories won’t stop making them. And once Aurora gains control of another manufactory-equipped habitat, she’ll start producing weevils there as well.”
“So we shut down the polling cores. Destroy them, even. Same with the manufactories.”
Again Gaffney looked apologetic, like someone who kept winning against a weaker opponent and was beginning to feel sorry for them.
“Won’t work, either. Weevils are more than warriors. They’re general-purpose construction servitors. Can’t replicate, but there isn’t much else they can’t do. Build and integrate a new polling core? Matter of hours. I gave them the necessary blueprints. Repair a scuttled manufactory? Six hours. Maybe twelve. Ditto on the blueprints. Aurora’s covered all the bases, Tom. Why do you think I’d be telling you all this otherwise?”
“I guess you may have a point there,” Dreyfus said. Then he lifted up the cuff of his sleeve to reveal his bracelet.
“Jane?” he asked.
“Aumonier,” she replied, her voice reduced to a doll-like buzz.
“The machines are weevil-class war robots. Someone needs to see what we have on them in the archive. Instruct the Democratic Circus to proceed with maximum caution. If they can bring one in intact, they should do so, but I don’t want to lose another deep-system cruiser without good reason.”
“Copy, Tom,” Jane Aumonier said.
He cuffed down his sleeve and surveyed the man on the bed.
“Of course, if I find you were lying about any of that—”
“I wasn’t lying. And that was spoken like a true leader, by the way. You should have heard yourself. Anyone would have thought you were the supreme prefect the way you dished out instructions to Jane.”
“We have a good understanding. It’s called mutual respect.”
“Sounded more like the natural assumption of authority to me. Perhaps you covet her job the same way Baudry and Crissel did?”
“We weren’t talking about Jane.” Dreyfus reached behind his back and unclipped the whiphound he had been keeping there, out of Gaffney’s line of sight. He brought it around in front of him and let the other man see what he was holding.
“Oh, now that’s low. Did Doctor Mercier see you come in with that thing?”
Dreyfus whipped out the filament, letting it hiss against the floor. It sliced the quickmatter like a rapier through water, the floor material healing behind it almost instantly.
“Don’t worry. It isn’t a Model C. Doesn’t have any of those fancy new features you were so keen to see installed.”
“Are you going to kill me now?”
“No. I’ll leave killing prisoners to the experts. I want you alive, Sheridan, so I can run a deep-cortex trawl while you still have some brain cells.”
“Trawl me now. See how far it gets you.”
“Sword mode,” Dreyfus said, almost under his breath. The filament flicked to immediate rigidity. He swept it over Gaffney’s recumbent form, hard and fast enough to raise a whoosh of parted air.
“I’ll spare you the sales pitch. You know what one of these can do in the wrong hands.”
“I’ve told you everything.”
“No, you haven’t. There’s an elephant in this room that you’re trying very hard to ignore, Sheridan. It’s called Ruskin-Sartorious. You set up the execution of that habitat, didn’t you?”