Empire of Light

'What were they arguing about?'

He shrugged. 'No idea. We haven't managed to recover the sound yet.'

'That's not necessarily incriminating in itself, is it? I mean, people do argue.'

'There's more. Before we left Redstone, Nathan completely disappeared for several hours. We have no idea what happened to him during that time.'

'Surely you asked him?'

'Yes, but his answer never rang true.'

Dakota leaned back and studied Corso for a moment. 'You're still holding something back, I can tell.'

Corso smiled weakly. 'All right, when the med-bay was vandalized, it made it almost too easy to pin the blame on you or Ted.'

'I think it was deliberate misdirection: a way to take the focus off someone else by making the obvious suspects look like the only suspects.'

'That occurred to me too, but now I think it was vandalized for exactly the reason we originally thought it was – so someone couldn't be scanned for compromised neural implants. But not you or Ted.'

Dakota smiled and shook her head. 'That's ridiculous. If there was another machine-head on board, I'd have known straight away.'

Corso smiled softly. 'Dakota, our friend Driscoll is a Uchidanist.'

'A Uchidanist? Why are you only telling me now?'

'Because I need your help,' Corso replied miserably. 'I'm sure he's under Trader's control.'

'How?'

'Remember, Uchidanists have-'

'Implants,' she finished for him. 'Oh, Jesus and Buddha. But that still doesn't necessarily prove he's responsible, does it?'

'No,' he agreed. 'For that, you need evidence.' He reached up to the car's list of programmable destinations. 'Let's get going. There's something I want you to see.'

She looked at him suspiciously. 'What?'

'The evidence,' he said simply. 'But before we get there, there's something else I'm going to have to tell you about Driscoll. And you're not going to like it.' The frigate's reactor complexes were surrounded by a maze of access tubes narrow and cramped enough to induce any number of claustrophobic nightmares in the minds of anyone traversing them. Corso led the way, once they disembarked, relying on the detailed maps placed at each junction to help him navigate his way to one of the reactor bays.

Dakota followed close behind, a knot of apprehension twisting in her stomach, her mind still numb with shock from what she'd just learned. Before long they reached the main control area for the frigate's fusion-reaction systems. A screen mounted on one bulkhead showed a real time simulation of the fantastically violent processes taking place just a few metres away.

'I still can't believe you kept this from me for so long,' she mumbled, watching as Corso stepped over to a service hatch set into the bulkhead. He entered a code into a panel beside the hatch, and after a few moments it swung open.

'We've been over this before,' he replied testily. 'If I can find a way to work with Whitecloud without throttling him, so can you.'

Dakota didn't reply at first. In truth, what Corso had told her on the way still hadn't quite sunk in.

Whitecloud was, whether directly or indirectly, one of the men ultimately responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life. The Port Gabriel incident had led to the banning of machine-head technology, and that had led to Dakota working for Bourdain – and that had led, one way and another, to Nova Arctis, and finally to the Mjollnir.

'I want him dead,' she announced, her voice wavering.

Corso was halfway inside the hatch as he glanced back at her. 'But we need him alive,' he said, with a warning in his tone.

'You should have told me,' she protested in sudden fury.

'And if I had, would you have been happy about him coming along?'

'No, I wouldn't,' she spat back at him. 'He's a mass murderer, don't you understand? You weren't there, Lucas. You have no conception of what it was like losing your mind like that.'

'And yet we have Trader sitting in his yacht there in the hold, and we all know what he's capable of. I seem to recall he did exactly the same thing to you. So how do you square that with your conscience?'

Dakota's face paled and she fell silent, her eyes round and luminous in the light cast by the reactor simulation.

Corso shook his head in irritation, embarrassed at his own sudden sense of discomfort. A silence stretched between them, but when he ducked to continue through the hatch, she followed after only a moment's hesitation. The area beneath the reactor control room was barely big enough to enable them to crouch together inside it, and the only light came from a single red panel in one corner. Corso pulled out a small flashlight and shone it on to what looked to Dakota at first like a jumble of machinery. He gripped the flashlight in his teeth and used both hands to pull himself closer to it.

As Dakota followed, she saw that a plastic chair had been pushed into one corner, and was covered with matt foil that she recognized as a kind of force-feedback material. A bird's-nest tangle of wiring and circuitry surrounded it, while yet more circuitry and wiring was wrapped around the arms of the chair.

'What is it?' asked Dakota, puzzled.

'See that superconductor cable running through the back? That's so it can tap directly into the reactor power feed without showing up on the logs.'

Suddenly Dakota saw the order in the chaos, and realized she was looking at a home-brew version of the interface chair up on the bridge.

She moved abreast of Corso and brushed the fingertips of one hand along the wiring. 'So why build it at all?' she asked.

'To trigger the shutdown,' Corso explained, 'and to hide the identity of Olivarri's killer. Some of its components were manufactured from the lab's dedicated fabricator. That would nail Whitecloud pretty conclusively.'

'I don't see how,' Dakota muttered. 'Can Uchidan implants even work with an interface chair?'

'Apparently his can. I did a little research into his escape from custody. His implants are a custom job – far from surprising, when you think about it. All the members of his R amp;D unit were regularly tinkering with their own neural hardware to see what results they got.'

'There has to be a reason you're telling me all this now rather than previously.'

'Because it was going to emerge sooner or later, and I'd rather you heard it from me. We're all going to have to make compromises if we're to have a hope in hell of getting out of this mess alive.'

'What compromises?'

'I need you to keep working with Whitecloud.'

She stared at him, totally appalled. 'You've got to be fucking joking.'

'If he's close to some kind of a real breakthrough, you're going to have to. If it makes you feel any better, I've talked with him about what happened at Port Gabriel. He doesn't deny his responsibility for what happened, and I'm not saying he's any less guilty, but I'm beginning to think he's genuinely contrite.'

A sick, acid feeling was building in the pit of her stomach. 'Oh, that's okay then,' she snapped. 'No problem. Let bygones be bygones, right?'

Corso bristled. 'That's not what I meant.'

She stared off past his shoulder for a moment, thinking. 'Look, putting all of that aside just for the moment, one thing occurs to me. If he's under Trader's control, why did he tell you he'd made a breakthrough? Wouldn't that be against Trader's own interests?'

'Trader didn't control your actions every second of every day, did he?'

'Well, no,' she conceded.