<Zelia,> he sent, <if you’re out there, for God’s sake, answer.>
Still nothing. As he’d expected.
He had gained, at most, a few minutes head-start – and even then, he still didn’t have an answer to the question he’d asked Maxwelclass="underline" where the hell could he even go?
He was alone, on a hostile world, with no way home. All he could really do until he figured something better out was find somewhere to hide where Cripps might never find him.
Switching to the flier’s external senses, he saw Vanaheim’s sun burst over its horizon, making the oceans below looks like pools of golden fire, and remembered what Maxwell had said: if his lattice could bypass the encryption on the books in his prison, what else could it achieve?
<Zelia!>
Still no answer.
He had the flier dip back down into the upper atmosphere, soon feeling it shudder around him as it bit into denser air. Before long a steady rumble sounded through the tiny vessel’s hull. He’d picked his next stop at random – an archipelago of islands dense with forest, just off the coast of a minor continent, black smoke trailing from one peak that was clearly volcanic.
Most importantly, the flier’s records indicated the archipelago was entirely uninhabited, and rarely visited. He had no idea whether Cripps or anyone else would be able to track him there, but he was all out of any better ideas.
The flier made landing in a clearing about forty minutes later, dirt and leaves tumbling down after it as it broke through the forest canopy. The soil beneath the canopy was filled with a half-light that filtered down from above.
Sweat prickled his skin the moment he exited the flier. Luc stumbled over to a boulder thick with moss and sat there for a few minutes, trying to will his heart to slow down and his hands to stop shaking. The air was thick with small, buzzing things, and all he could do was hope that none of de Almeida’s surveillance mechants were amongst them.
Thank God he’d taken the opportunity to eat something at Maxwell’s library. If he was going to hide out here for any significant length of time, his first priority would have to be locating a source of fresh water, followed by trying to work out what, amongst Vanaheim’s bio-engineered flora and fauna, might be edible.
And after that . . .
Maybe it was better not to think about after just yet.
He went exploring, making his way to the edge of a deep gorge that fell away to a river sluicing between dark granite walls on its long descent from the island’s central peak. He worked his way deeper into the forest, keeping the gorge to one side, taking care not to stumble or fall in the permanent twilight beneath the canopy.
After a while he came across a shallow cave, and had an idea.
Making his way back to the flier, he guided the vehicle back above the canopy until it spread out below him like a sea of green, then flew low until he was hovering above the river gorge. He followed the river upstream, then carefully manoeuvred the flier back through the canopy; and before long, he had parked it just inside the mouth of the cave. Even with the canopy covering the flier over, it had still felt somehow exposed. There were no guarantees the Council didn’t also have access to surveillance technology that could see through rock, but he’d take that chance.
He slept fitfully inside the flier, and found himself troubled by dreams in which he argued with Winchell Antonov. When he awoke, he could remember nothing of what they had said to each other. Staggering back outside, he worked his way downstream until the gorge flattened out sufficiently that he could cup the lukewarm water in both hands, drinking down as much of it as he could.
Upon his return to the flier, tired, grubby and still hungry, he failed at first to register that a light on one of the cockpit’s virtual panels had begun to blink. He stared at it for several moments, fatigue making him unsure if it had been blinking the whole time and he’d only just noticed it.
Tentatively, he reached out and touched the panel with a finger.
<Shit, it really is you. I don’t know how the hell you managed to stay alive, but you did.>
Luc let himself fall into the flier’s crash couch, a fat grin spreading across his features. It was Zelia.
<What happened to you?> he demanded. <I managed to talk to Maxwell, but he didn’t have any better idea where you were than I did. I thought maybe Cheng had finally ordered your arrest.>
<You actually talked to Javier? Where the hell are you?>
<Hiding on an island in the middle of nowhere. Maxwell rescued me and brought me into that weird library of his, but Cripps got wind of it and turned up with some Sandoz in tow. I got away, but Cripps is looking for me now.>
<I don’t want to talk like this too much,> she sent back. <It’s better we meet face to face.>
<How the hell did you even manage to track me down?>
<There are back doors inside the security networks nobody else knows about. It took a while to get control of them back, but after that it was just a matter of time before I figured out how to find you. Now listen – I’m uploading coordinates to you. I need you to go to them and rendezvous with me there.>
<Maxwell’s dead,> he told her. <I saw Cripps kill him. I learned a lot in that library, Zelia. I even have a pretty good idea just why Vasili was murdered.>
There was a brief pause before she replied. <Javier Maxwell is dead?>
<More than just dead. Cripps made a point of saying he was going to wipe Maxwell’s backups. He was getting ready to blow the whole damn library to kingdom come when I got away.>
<God damn it, he can’t . . .> She broke off for a moment, then came back. <Just get here, Gabion. I need you to brief me on everything that’s been happening.>
Luc listened to the buzz of life from outside the flier’s open hatch, the wind rattling the high branches of the trees shielding the mouth of the cave from view.
<You knew a lot more than you were letting on, Zelia. A lot more.>
<What?>
<That whole story about bringing me in to investigate Vasili’s murder because of the work I’d done in the past. That was just bullshit, wasn’t it?>
<You have no idea what you’re talking about.>
<This all started after Antonov told me in a dream to alter a record in Archives as a message – to whom, he didn’t specify. I felt like an idiot making those changes based on something in a Goddamn dream, but the next thing I knew Cripps had turned up out of the blue and I was being hauled off to Vanaheim to take a look at charred corpses on your behalf. I’d have to be an idiot not to make the connection.>
<You think Antonov’s message was meant for me?>
<A lot of things that happened on Thorne while you were still its administrator got swept under the carpet, Zelia.> He remembered the fleeting vision he’d had of her wearing a contamination suit, and walking through a biome filled with corpses. <But one of the worst was a containment breach involving unauthorized biotech research. Hundreds of research and development staff died and the whole thing stirred up a huge scandal. You resigned from your post as Director of Policy for Thorne after the investigation into the whole mess collapsed without ever working out who was responsible.>
<Luc, I sincerely hope you’re not implying that I caused that breach.>
<Antonov said the message was for someone who’d done something they shouldn’t have, a long time ago. The fact that he had me alter that particular record tells me that that something must have been the containment accident. And the first thing that happened after I’d altered that record was you first bringing me to Vanaheim, then sneaking me off to your own lab the instant I collapsed.>