“That is an excellent question. But there may be other elements in play, Olsirkos, and assets of which we have no knowledge. After all, the Srina who we must now presume to be in command of Red Lurker carries one of the last viable genelines of House Perekmeres.”
“A dead house, Honored Srin.”
“Yes, it is dead — now. But for many decades prior to its Extirpation, House Perekmeres supported our observation of human space in their guise as the Custodians’ assistants. It is possible they cached assets in this region of space, and that knowledge of them was snuffed out of existence along with the geneline. Except, perhaps, for a few clever Evolved, who formulated plans to reunite here, far away from the direct oversight of the Great Houses and the Autarchs.”
Olsirkos reexamined the star chart. “If that is true, then their shift range could be much greater than that of the Arbitrage.”
“Exactly. And with such range, they might hope to intercept the legation on its way to Beta Aquilae, or, failing that, on its return. Either way, it is such an inspired and insanely bold ploy that it is all but unthinkable. As is their hijacking of Aboriginals we suborned during our infiltration of Earth’s megacorporations and governments. Brilliant. But they could not have done so without the aid of a sponsor.”
Olsirkos nodded. “These Perekmeres dogs knew which persons in Aboriginal cold cells were our suborned agents. They had the confirmation codes that identified them as legitimate authorities. They probably knew of collaborators aboard the Arbitrage.”
“Yes, megacorporate collaborators who were suborned at my orders.” Shethkador took a moment to ensure that the annoyance did not manifest outwardly. “A scattered remnant of an Extirpated House does not have access to such secrets. They had a sponsor with access to the relevant intelligence, inventories, and code-words.”
“Meaning that one of the other Houses—”
“Has elected to support the resurgence of House Perekmeres covertly, or has at least promised to do so. I suspect the sponsor ultimately intends to dispose of these renegades to eliminate any evidence that this plot was orchestrated at a higher level. But I suspect that the Perekmeres’ expect that.”
“But who among the Houses would wish to undermine our operations here?”
“Whoever is not happy with them.”
“Or with House Shethkador,” Olsirkos ventured.
Tlerek nodded approval at Olsirkos’ insight, frowned at its content, and thought, All too likely.
Chapter Thirty-Nine. SOUTHERN EXTENTS OF THE THIRD SILVER TOWER BD +02 4076 TWO (“DISPARITY”)
Five days after the water-striders began paralleling the group — or, as Hwang quipped, “following Captain Riordan like tame ponies”—Caine pulled wearily to the top of the first significant slope they’d encountered since commencing their downriver trek. The trees parted, revealing that the river’s course straightened as it followed along the floor of a shallow valley. The flanking hills ultimately rose up into higher peaks, which pinched the river tightly between them in the far distance. Beyond which, if Riordan recalled his brief glimpses from the shuttle’s cockpit, it was only a short march to the shores of a long inlet that led ultimately to the southern reaches of Disparity’s equatorial seas.
Salunke, a few meters ahead, shaded her eyes, then pointed toward the peak-lined gateway through which the valley had to squeeze. “There, do you see it?”
Caine, vision blurry from the effort of the sustained march, squinted, saw a vertical spark of metal down near the base of the nearest left-hand peak. “What is it?” he panted.
Nasr Eid’s voice was excited. “It is a silver object, a tower of some kind.”
The rest of the group moved to his vantage point. An eager conversational buzz rose up. The decision to head downriver, conceded to be the best path in the absence of other information but never embraced with particular confidence, was suddenly hailed as just short of oracular in its insight. Riordan started to chuckle, but coughed instead.
Macmillan drew close, glanced down. “How are you holding up?”
Caine, head hanging as he caught his breath, nodded.
“You don’t look, or sound, so good,” the Scotsman added.
“Might be bronchitis,” Riordan offered, straightening.
Xue shook his head as he passed. “That is not bronchitis, Captain. It sounds more akin to asthma.”
“I’m not asthmatic.”
Xue shrugged. “No undiagnosed adult is ever asthmatic. Until they are.”
“Yes, well — let’s just keep focused on making progress.”
Xue paused, scanning Riordan’s face. “We will make no progress if you collapse, Captain. We should rest.”
Riordan’s first impulse was to insist that he was fine, damn it, but that would be a lie. The shortness of breath he’d experienced the day after the crash had seemed to improve at first, but was now growing steadily. If he lied about it, he’d not only set a bad example, but be seen as unreasonable, as requiring forced rest. And if anyone started to force a leader to do anything, it usually spelled doom to their authority. But if I slow down the very people I am honor-bound to save, then what the hell am I—?
Dora Veriden had drifted forward, out of her rearguard position. Macmillan frowned. “Hey, if you’re up here, who’s watching our—?”
Caine waved him to silence, looked at Dora. “Something?”
She nodded faintly. “Our new friends are back. And as shy as ever.”
Macmillan lifted his rifle slightly. “Where?”
“Other side of the river this time. At about our eight o’clock. But there are more of them now. I think.”
Gaspard strolled over. “A problem?”
Macmillan nodded tightly. “The same beasties that started following us three days ago. Same sounds, same motions.”
“And you remain convinced that they are not the same creatures that chased us at the end of the second full day on planet?” He looked directly at Riordan.
“I remain doubtful, Ambassador. We haven’t seen them or any of their tracks, so it’s impossible to assert anything definitively. But they keep greater distance and they move differently.”
Veriden nodded. “These critters are not as fast as that pack of predators when they’re moving in a straight line. But what they lack in speed they make up for with agility.”
The ambassador nodded at Dora’s confirmation but never took his eyes off Riordan. “Very well, but what do you propose to do about them, Captain?”
Etienne Gaspard had greatly improved as a human being in Riordan’s eyes, but sometimes the diplomat still said things that made him sound like an utter prig. “Well, since they’re not coming forward to be recognized, I propose we just spend a few moments ignoring them and taking in the view.”
Gaspard raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think—?”
“He means,” Dora muttered into her employer’s ear, “that right now, we should allow most of our group to rest — and stay the hell out of our way.”
Riordan couldn’t repress a smile: Veriden was a pain in the ass, but she was an extremely competent and insightful pain in the ass. “Meanwhile, Mr. Macmillan and Ms. Veriden will drift toward the forest behind us, because they are bored bored bored by all our chatter.”
“Right,” said Veriden and loped back off toward the rear of the column, looking pretty bored already.
Macmillan’s brow beetled, then rose. “Oh, yes,” he said, “I’m turribly, turribly bored.”