“Do you have any idea when?” she asked gently.
“Mars has been under our control for around twenty-three years, ever since the armistice. We didn’t discover the portal until two years ago, but that doesn’t mean anyone else could have been secretly using it during all those years. We’d have noticed something going on. Just the power drain required to keep the portal open—”
“But clearly someone did use it.”
“In which case it must have happened more than twenty-three years ago. Just before the armistice, there was a period when Mars and its moons were under Slasher authority. It didn’t last very long—about eighteen months, give or take.”
“You’re saying those war babies have been in Paris for twenty-three years?”
“It’s the only explanation I can think of. Any Slasher agents on E2 would have been stranded here once Mars was handed back to us. Actually, that would explain a lot. War babies were infertile, and they were never meant to grow old.”
“Aveling said something about a shelf life.”
“They were supposed to be ‘decommissioned’ before senescence set in. Gotta love those Slasher euphemisms. But these war babies have been left to grow old on their own. That’s why they look the way they do.”
“So what have they been doing all this time?”
“That’s a very good question.”
“Can you move again?” Auger asked. “I think we need to be on our way.”
Skellsgard grunted in agreement and resumed her hopping progress. “We lost control of Susan White,” she said, between ragged breaths. “One explanation is that she was working for the enemy. Having known Susan, I don’t think that’s very likely.”
“I don’t think it’s very likely either.”
“I’m more inclined to believe that she figured out part of what was going on here—that there was already a Slasher presence on E2.”
“Did she report this back to Caliskan?”
Skellsgard shook her head. “No. I think she must have been worried about blowing her own cover. She may not have been working for the enemy, but she might have had her doubts about someone else on the team.”
“I sort of arrived at the same conclusion,” Auger said cautiously.
“Really?”
“Yes,” Auger said. “Why bring me into the operation, unless she was unwilling to trust an insider to get the job done?”
“I think you could be right.”
“It means I have to make a decision about who to trust. With Aveling and Barton it’s not exactly an issue any more. That leaves you, Maurya.”
“And?”
“I don’t know what Susan thought about you. For better or for worse, I don’t think I have much choice but to trust you.”
“Well, that’s a resounding vote of confidence.”
“Sorry—I meant it to sound a bit more positive than that. Not that it makes much difference now that the papers are gone.”
“But you looked at them, right?”
“Glanced through them,” Auger said.
“Better than nothing. At least you have some idea about what was worth killing for. If we can get that news back to Caliskan, maybe he can put the pieces together.”
“And if Caliskan is the problem?”
“All Susan’s letters were addressed to him,” Skellsgard said. “Right until the end. That suggests she still trusted him, even if she had her doubts about everyone else.”
“Maybe.”
“We have to start somewhere.”
“Agreed, I suppose. But can we get a message through to him? Aveling told me there were problems with the link.”
“There are always problems,” Skellsgard replied. “It’s just got a lot worse since you arrived. Did you hear about the shit-storm brewing back home?”
“Aveling said that the Polities are stirring up trouble.”
“It’s worse than that. We’ve got a full-scale civil war in Polity space, between the moderates and the aggressors. No one’s putting any money on who’s going to win that particular catfight. Meanwhile, the aggressors are moving their assets deep into the inner system, into USNE space.”
“Doesn’t that constitute a declaration of war?”
“It would if the USNE wasn’t so afraid of fighting back. At the moment, our politicians are just making a lot of exasperated noises and hoping the moderates will rein in the aggressors.”
“And?”
“Be nice if it happens.”
“I’m worried about my kids, Maurya. I need to be back there, taking care of them. If the aggressors move on Tanglewood—”
“It’s all right. We heard from your ex just before the link went tits-up. He wanted you to know that he’ll make sure your kids are safe.”
“He’d better,” Auger replied.
“Jesus, kid, he’s only trying to reassure you. Cut the guy some slack.”
Auger ignored her. “Tell me about the link. What, exactly, is the problem?”
“Problem is our friends from the Polities are a little too close to Mars for comfort. They know about link technology, of course. They already have the sensors to detect and localise active portals. If they even have a whisper of intelligence about there being a link around Mars, they’ll be looking for it. Consequently we’re having to run the link as quietly as we can, and that’s why it keeps going down.”
“They must know about it already. How else could the children have got here?”
“But when we took Phobos off them, there was no sign that they’d ever discovered the portal.”
“Maybe,” Auger said, “that was just what they wanted you to think.”
They had reached the heavy iron door that led to the censor chamber. It was ajar, a bright, septic yellow light spilling through from beyond.
“It’s as I left it,” Skellsgard observed.
“Best not to take anything for granted, all the same. Wait here a moment.” Auger propped Skellsgard up against the wall and pulled the automatic from her waistband, praying that there was still at least one bullet inside it. She stepped over the metal lip of the door, squeezing through the gap into the room beyond, and whipped the gun from corner to corner as fast as she could.
No children: at least, none that she could see.
She helped Skellsgard into the room, then heaved shut the iron door. Together they spun the heavy-duty lock. The door could only be unlocked from the inside.
“How are you doing?” Auger asked.
“Not too good. I think I need to loosen this tourniquet.”
“Let’s get you through the censor first.”
The bright-yellow barrier of the censor was the only source of light in the room. It flickered in Auger’s peripheral vision, but when she looked at it directly, it remained completely unwavering. Fused into the rock around it, the framework machinery looked intact, as thoroughly ancient and alien as the last time she had seen it.
“I’m going to go ahead first and check,” Auger said. “I’ll be back in a few seconds.”
“Or not,” Skellsgard said.
“If I don’t come back—if there’s something waiting for me on the other side—then you’ll have to take your chances on E2.”
Skellsgard shivered. “I’d sooner take my chances in the Stone Age.”
“They’re not that bad. They do have anaesthetic, plus some rudimentary knowledge of sterilisation. If you can get yourself taken to a hospital, you’ll have a pretty good chance of being looked after.”
“And then? When they start asking awkward questions?”
“Then you’re on your own,” Auger said.
“I’d rather risk the censor. Let me go first, will you? I’m already hurt, and there’s no point two of us taking an unnecessary risk. If things are OK, I’ll poke my head back through to let you know.”