‘Revolution is meaningless,’ she said. ‘It never ends. Only begins.’
His laugh was contemptuous. ‘Remind me what the “m” stands for in your version of Meta, Agent Singular.’
Saskia frowned.
‘“Möbius.” What of it?’
‘Where do you find meaning, Agent Singular? Where does your mission end, and where does it begin?’
‘You are arguing against mathematics, comrade,’ she said. There was something in his words that unsettled her, but she could not identify it. ‘In that, you will fail. Ask yourself why you would want to spread revolution.’
He snorted. ‘It is the duty of every comrade, comrade, to spread the revolution and to raise the red star wherever it has fallen.’
Saskia had pitied Gaus moments before. Now he sickened her. ‘Soso doesn’t know anything about a red star.’
‘Oh, I think he does,’ said Gaus. His eyes drifted upwards. ‘Deep down.’
Saskia looked up in time to see Soso leaning out from the terrace rail again. He carried a large rock on his hip. When he flung it down, the rock shattered to pieces, and each of the pieces knocked stone from the face until a dirty cascade of snow and rock was pouring upon them.
Saskia reached behind her head, grabbed the top of her rucksack with both hands, and pulled it over her head. Then a flat stone landed near her shoulder. Its fragments exploded against her face. Her instinct was to turn away and, given that the rucksack made her top heavy, she lost her footing and fell into the void.
She did not fall more than five metres, and the descent was slow because the rope was taut and Gaus was her counterweight. The rope rasped across the arête. She pinwheeled once, twice, and slammed against the rock. She cut her forehead. Blood covered her eyes and she tried to blink it away.
‘Agent Singular, this is Ego. I am inhibiting pain sensations associated with your wound.’
Thanks, Toaster.
As she swung against the face once more, she looked for Gaus. He was two metres immediately below her. His proximity was a shock. Saskia’s fall had pulled him up to a more favourable position on the face, and he had positioned both feet and his left hand. With his right, he was cutting the rope with his knife. The strands parted as she watched.
Her end of the rope was still tangled about her torso and held tight by her weight. Her axes hung uselessly from their wrist straps.
Ego, maximise my physical capabilities for the next few minutes, please.
‘Very well.’
‘I hope this answers your earlier question,’ he said. ‘Now.’
The rope parted. At the same instant, the clock speed of her chip increased. Time became finer in its detail. She fell. Her weight no longer trapped the rope against her body and she was able to free her right arm. She missed Gaus by a centimetre. She snatched for the axe shaft, gripped it, and drove the point into a small crack. She thought, Ego, more pain inhibition, just as her body whipped against the face. She looked down and rammed her toes into potential holds. The right boot slid free but the left held.
She secured her right boot, established another anchor with her left axe, and thought, Alright, Ego. Clock me down.
The world seemed to slow again. Fatigue settled upon her.
‘Saskia, that used fifteen per cent of the energy available to your chip. You won’t be able to do it again. Your overall energy capacity is now at four per cent.’
How long does that give me?
‘Minutes.’
She looked up, past Gaus. Soso was moving into position again. He had another rock. This one was bigger.
Saskia checked Gaus’s position. His feet were planted wider than would be comfortable.
‘That’s a precarious grip, comrade,’ said Saskia. ‘And you just cut your rope.’
Gaus said nothing. She could hear him shuffling against the rock. His leg moved experimentally to the left, searching for a toehold. It was too late. When the wave of stone came, his body was washed away from the face. Saskia cantilevered aside and watched him tumble out into the exposure above the valley. Fragments struck her shoulder but he had shielded her from the worst.
She hung there.
Gaus was gone. He had not screamed.
I will lead my fear.
Keeping her right axe in place, she shrugged the rucksack from her left shoulder. Then she released the buckle for the right-arm strap and felt the rucksack fall away. She dropped the rope, too.
She was alone on the face, lighter, and thinking hard.
Ego…
‘You have no power remaining to overclock your chip without exhausting it, ending your mission.’
Saskia moved her left hand to a new hold. It was weak and difficult to control. She sagged against the face. Her boots were slipping.
She thought, I am going to fall.
‘Overclocking.’
The world seemed to pause. Saskia looked up the face. She saw a potential route to the left of the arête. She felt alive and ready to scramble all the way to the terrace.
Toaster, you’ll get a very small medal for this.
There was no reply. Even the background hum of an open neural channel was absent. Ego must have found a way to transfer all his own energy to her chip.
Saskia set herself against the face and climbed. It was not technically difficult, being covered with good ice, and, given her enhanced perception, she was able to find a route with ease.
The terrace rail loomed as her overclocked chip stepped down into a slower rate. Abruptly, she felt tired and weak. A blackness crept onto the edge of her vision.
Soso stepped into view. The brim of his fedora fluttered and his trench coat had the collar turned up. Saskia remembered how Soso had seemed in the Amber Room. How triumphant he had looked. His expression today was not one of defeat. Not yet. He showed only surprise.
As well he might, thought Saskia. He abandoned me to a fatal wound in a burning house.
‘It cannot be,’ he said. ‘It cannot be.’
‘Help me up and I’ll tell you the whole story,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’ve killed the traitor. Now the money is safe.’
There was a bouquet of red chrysanthemums at his feet, wrapped in damp white cone. Saskia did not know what to make of them; and she had no time. Soso reached inside the bouquet and withdrew a gun. As he stared at her, his surprise transformed to hate.
‘I wanted Kamo to kill you that night in the Amber Room,’ he said. ‘He convinced me otherwise. He was a fool for you, as too many of us were.’
Saskia was vertical against face where the lowest terrace rail had been hammered into the rock. With a huge effort, she hauled herself upwards a few centimetres and looked further along the terrace. At the end, near the tunnel entrance, she could see three suitcases. No doubt they contained the encyclopaedias within which the expropriated money had been hidden. There was a carbine leaning against the suitcases, as well as a crate of dynamite. This terrace was Soso’s last stand against any attack that might come from the railway. The dynamite was typical insurance. Soso had difficulty holding a carbine because of his weak left arm.