The Queen was silent for a long moment, looking back at him with her changeable eyes. “It strikes me, Commander Vhanu,” she said at last, “that we have more in common than simply our roles in bringing a good man to undeserved grief. Gundhalinu is gone because you and I both possess a certain amount of power, which comes to us from some greater source; and we both try to use it to further ends we believe in. Whether we succeed is not always our choice. But it remains our choice how we go about it. I was taught, when I became a sibyl, that my duty was to serve all who needed the power that passed through me; not to use it to serve my own selfish ends. … I am simply a conduit, Commander, which is why I cannot give you what you want. I am a vessel. And you are a hollow man.” She rose from the throne in a motion as fluid as water, and stepped down off the dais into the protective gathering of her advisors and lightbearers, who had waited for her as silently as shadows. She started away toward the far door, leaving him behind without acknowledgment.
But she stopped at the door, turned back to look at him. “Anything you do to this world or any of its people will come back to you threefold in misery,” she said. The stagnant, lifeless air of the throne room gave an unnerving quality to her voice, as if something else were speaking through her. Only a vessel … She turned away, and did not look back again before she disappeared.
He turned, frowning, and pushed a path through the silent stares of his own retinue. He started back the way he had come, forcing the lantern-bearing constables to hurry after him through the unchanged darkness.
TIAMAT: Prajna, Planetary Orbit
Reede Kullervo opened his eyes with the confusion of a man wakened after too little sleep; heard his own slurred voice mouthing sounds that should have been questions, or demands.
“Boss …” someone else’s voice was saying, with more effect than his own. “Boss—?” Niburu. His last memory was of Niburu, fog-gray, melting away. Niburu’s face was perfectly clear in front of him now; his hand crossed Reede’s line of vision to shake his shoulder with hesitant insistence.
“We’re there—?” Reede asked, managing somehow to speak intelligible words this time. He sat up, surprised that his body would obey him; clutched the seat-arms as he began to float upward, until he saw that restraining straps held him in. “Tiamat space?”
Niburu nodded; Reede filled in the slim, silent shadow of Ananke behind him, wearing a headset. “What about—?” He jerked his chin at Ariele’s seat, where the smoke-gray shield still rested undisturbed.
Niburu shrugged, and nodded.
“They’ve closed with us, Kedalion,” Ananke said suddenly. “They’re locking on to our hatch.”
Reede released his restraint harness and pushed up from his seat unsteadily. He clung to the solid support of the seatback until his sense of balance stabilized. “What is it? Have we been contacted?”
“More than that,” Niburu said grimly. “We’re being boarded. They barely gave us time to set orbit before they were on our backs; they must’ve been tracking us since the minute we came out of the last jump. The Hedge’s nearspace security wasn’t this paranoid before we left.”
“Move—” Reede gestured them aft with sudden vehemence. “Clear out of the LB, and seal it up. I don’t want them snooping around in here, fucking with those stasis units and asking a lot of questions. Hurry up!”
They followed him without protest; Niburu sealed the hatch behind them and led the way out of the Prajna’s holds toward the passenger area. Reede worked his way through the serpentine corridors that Niburu had filled with extra cargo storage so that there was barely space for a normal-sized man to pass through without banging his head on something. He swore under his breath, watching Ananke swimming lithely along the passageway ahead of him. His own sluggish body was made dizzy by his every movement. “Damn it, Niburu, why didn’t you turn on the gravity?”
“Sorry, boss,” Niburu said, looking back/down/up at him. “I move faster this way.”
Reede grunted. He had commented, complained, and finally ordered Niburu to get the interior of the ship refitted so that it was more comfortable to a man his own height. Niburu had ignored him, stalled, and finally, standing eye to eye with him from the height of a raised access in the systems center, told him to fuck off. “This is my ship,” Niburu had said. “It has to be my way.” And to his own surprise as much as Niburu’s, Reede had let it go.
He looked down/in as they passed the empty room that was the ship’s real heart, where Niburu navigated and they all endured the brutal passage through Black Gate transits. Its passenger cocoons gave them some protection against the stresses of hyperlight as well, now that the ship was outfitted with a jury-rigged stardrive unit, and the past and the future were fused into one imperfect present.
He went on without stopping through the cramped maze of dayroom, commons, and private sleeping cubicles, with nothing worse than bruises and curses. They arrived in the systems center just as the access at the other end filled with a cluster of armed troopers in spacesuits.
Niburu and Ananke raised their hands, drifting free, at the sight of the guns trained on them. Reede did the same, reflexively, kept his hands up reluctantly.
“Who are you? Why are you on my ship?” Niburu demanded, the indignation in his voice belying the submission gesture. “We had clearance when we left. You’ve got no reason to board us, let alone threaten us. I’m going to report this—”
“You can report it to me.” The front man in the group of intruders pushed toward them; banged his head on a piece of suspended equipment and pulled himself up short. He swore under his breath, his eyes threatening death to anyone who cracked a smile. “Lieutenant Rimonne, Hegemonic Navy. Tiamat is under martial law, and we are investigating the arrival of all unscheduled ships.”
“Martial law?” Niburu said blankly. “Look, I’m a free trader. I get shipments where I can; I don’t run on a schedule.”
“Our records show you claim to be arriving with the same cargo you were carrying when you left Tiamat. Would you like to explain that?”
Niburu shrugged. “A deal fell through. It’s a hard life.”
“Nice try.” The lieutenant gestured at his men. “We’re taking you aboard our vessel for questioning, and probably detention.”
“Wait a minute,” Reede said, moving forward cautiously, his hands still high. “I’m their return cargo. They brought me here to see Gundhalinu. I have to see Gundhalinu, as soon as possible.”
Rimonne raised his eyebrows, taking in Reede’s bandaged head and torn, bloodied clothing. “The Chief Justice? That’s going to be difficult.”
Reede glanced down at himself, realizing that his appearance didn’t help his credibility any. “Take me down to the surface. Contact him, tell him I’m here, he’ll see me. My name is Reede Kullervo.”
The lieutenant looked unimpressed. “It doesn’t matter—”
“Maybe you’ve heard of me. They call me the Smith.”
Everyone’s eyes were on him suddenly, staring. “The Smith?” Rimonne laughed. “There’s no such person. The Smith is a legend; he doesn’t exist.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Reede said, staring back at him.
Rimonne hesitated. His face pulled into a frown. “What kind of business would the Smith have with the Chief Justice of Tiamat—if the Smith existed?” He held his gun aimed more precisely at Reede’s chest.
“It’s about the water of life,” Reede said steadily. “He needs what I know. I ave to see him.”
“That’s unfortunate, because he’s gone,” the lieutenant said. He smiled sourly. f^And you’re under arrest.”