Chapter 14
On the first day of the summit there was something new about Alabama City, an atmosphere of expectancy. The citizens tried to pursue their normal activities but the mood pervaded everything, oozing into every opening, forcing undercurrents through the entire city.
It was an atmosphere Mathias found unnerving. He knew from experience that such tension could take over and drive events; all that was needed was a trigger.
Walking along Grand Rue Street, he realised that he had shut himself away from the mainstream of city life. Waves of déjà vu broke across him as he walked: the boarded-up shops, the impromptu food auctions, the faces that were so familiar. It was as if the port of Orlyons had been uprooted and woven into the fabric of Alabama City; he kept expecting to see rows of buildings devastated by the fighting, to find Slide in a doped-up heap in an alleyway or for Vera-Lynne Perse to fall into step by his side. To hear Mono and the 'tones, drifting softly above the crowd-babble.
He caught himself, shook his head sadly. This was Alabama, there were street-lights and posters of Salvo urging the populace—or those of the populace able to read—to accept the shortages with patriotic fervour.
He found an empty table in the Happy Hobo Eaterette and ordered a vodka-fizz, which they called 'coffee' to avoid the need for a Primal entertainments licence. The Happiest Hobo didn't appear to be aware of the shortages.
The previous day, Decker had told him a lot. He had told him about life in the Orbitals, about how the Arks had been added to over the generations until they had become incredible growths: modules and rubble-cladding and solar collectors and galleries and any sort of unit that could retain enough air for the life it held. Mathias could picture it clearly, a fantasia of technology. 'What do your superiors say about your contact with us?' Mathias had asked.
'Just when I was getting to like you, Matt, and you have to bring that up.' Decker had paused. 'I told you, we don't organise like you folks do. No one out here can govern, if we disagree we just go our own ways. Space is big, Matt, you can't know how big until you're out here. But there are people who matter, people you have to convince if anything's ever going to be done.
'It's like I told it to Sukui: there's a lot of people out here who still don't believe in the terran ship—they're waiting for the next episode, or maybe wondering why there's no punch-line. This is nothing official, Matt—it's just me and a few friends. We couldn't convince anybody out here about the ship, so we figured we at least had to see if there was anybody on Expatria who should know. Now we've got ourselves an extra task: if we can't persuade anybody there's a ship coming from Earth, maybe we can at least convince them there are folks still alive on Expatria.'
The irony of the situation had made Mathias laugh; it still made him grin wryly even now, a day later. They both had the same problem: how to spread the word. 'There's one thing we both know,' Mathias had said. 'We have to try, we have to let people know somehow, we can't just let things stay as they are.'
'You're telling me what I already know,' Decker had said. 'I'll wish you some luck and hope I get some too.'
Mathias finished his 'coffee' and let the fizz die on his tongue before swallowing. The summit was being held in Merchant Chapel, a large trading complex just across Alcazar Square from the Capitol.
He left the Eaterette and headed for Merchant Chapel, The day's session should be near to completion and the participants would soon be filtering out of the Inner Chamber. Sala Pedralis would be there. He could talk to her, try to explain about the Orbitals and the approaching ship.
Even when Sukui finally revealed the news, Mathias could foresee a dangerous situation if Salvo Andric was the first person to be informed. Mathias had liked Andric when he met him, but he also distrusted him immeasurably. Sukui made the Prime out to be some kind of folk hero, the munificent leader, ruling only for the good of his people. Maybe there was some of that in Andric, but Mathias had seen a whole lot more, the greed, the hunger for power that he had even seen in his own father.
Sala was the person to tell. The most recent information Mathias had was that she had retained her high position in the Newest Delhi government; she was trusted by Edward in much the same way that Sukui was trusted by Andric.
Mathias shouldered his way past a tired-looking crowd of peace protesters and into Merchant Chapel. Traders' Gallery was wide and crowded, open on one side, running around the circumference of the entire building. Half-empty stalls were crammed into every possible space and the air was full of proclaiming voices and an occasional animal screech and the scents of spices and foodstuffs, so familiar from every market-place Mathias had ever known.
He approached the steps that led to the inner sanctum of offices and meeting rooms and on inwards, to the debating chamber that was his goal.
As the crush of bodies grew tighter, Mathias realised that there was something going on, a scuffle, some shouting, a heaving of the crowd. More cautiously, he continued.
Closer, he could distinguish some of the words. 'He's selling us off to the highest bidder!' cried a loud, booming voice. Siggy Axelmeyer. Mathias scanned the crowd for his room-mate's face. 'We should be fighting, not talking!'
He was there, ahead, struggling up the steps and half turning to face the crowd. 'Let's tell the Prime what we want!' he cried. A number of Axelmeyer's supporters jostled at the foot of the steps, but Mathias guessed the rest of the crowd were merely there because they were restless and hungry and that was the way crowds were. The gallery was a packed place—a surge from Axelmeyer and his friends could appear impressive in such confines.
'Mathias, you're here!' Axelmeyer had spotted him edging his way towards the front. 'Come on. Help him through there.'
Mathias felt hands propelling him to the foot of the steps and then Axelmeyer was embracing him and yelling at the crowd.
'Siggy,' said Mathias. 'I don't know what you're doing, but I just want to get through. I have to see someone.'
It was too late. The troopers on the doors into the sanctum had called for reinforcements and now they were advancing down the steps. 'You'll have to move along, now,' said a sergeant Mathias recognised. 'You're wasting your time'
'Andrei,' Mathias said to the sergeant. 'Will you let me through? I'm not with this rabble. I have to see somebody.'
He was fortunate. While the rest of the troopers stayed to disperse the crowd, Sergeant Andrei Lokov led Mathias through to the small office that had been taken over by the army for the duration of the conference. 'Who is it you want to see?' he asked.
'Her name is Sala Pedralis. She's a senior adviser with the delegation from Newest Delhi. She was elected into the Primal family a number of years ago.' Mathias shrugged. 'She's an old friend.'
The sergeant ran a finger slowly down a list of names, mumbling, 'Ped-ra-lis, Pedr-al-is, Pe-dral-isss.' Then, 'No,' he said, finally. 'There's no Pedralis here. See for yourself.'
Mathias knew Lokov was a poor reader and he was not unduly worried. Sala had to be there, he couldn't believe she would have been left behind. Her sharp legal mind and her loyalty were something no ruler could neglect.
She wasn't on the list. He thought that maybe the list was incomplete but there were all the other names, right from Edward down to the lowliest servants. Sala had been left in Newest Delhi.
Mathias thanked Lokov and wandered back through the emptying Traders' Gallery. With no Sala his carefully considered rebellion had foundered at the first obstacle. He had been relying on her. He hadn't realised how much, until he could see that he would have to act alone.
~
Sun-Ray Sidhu was back at the research hut when Mathias walked in. 'I've been waiting, for you,' he said. 'Sanjit didn't want this place left alone.'
Mathias glanced at the screen but it was sparking grey nothings at him. 'Sunny,' he said, 'I've been thinking—d'you want something to drink? I'm dry.'
'Listen, Matt, is it vital? I have a... an appointment. I'd hate to keep her waiting.'
Mathias shook his head and Sun-Ray headed out of the hut. 'Hey,' he called after him. 'Any more contact?' Sun-Ray shook his head as he jogged away. 'No,' Mathias muttered to himself. He had hoped Lui would be here; the scene at Merchant Chapel had perturbed him and he wanted to talk to somebody. Sun-Ray had preferred the chance to get laid and Mathias smiled and shook his head—he could understand Sunny's choice.
He sat down in front of the screen and, almost without thinking, flicked the microphone switch into the on position. He cleared his throat. 'Anybody there?' he asked. 'Decker, are you there? It's Matt.' The screen remained grey.
He flicked the microphone off and ambled outside to sit by the open door. Had he really expected Decker to be there, just waiting for him to call?
It was early evening and the crawlers were out, dragging themselves blindly up the grassy slope. He picked one up and turned it over in his hand. It was a gnarled oval pod with three rows of tiny feet on the underside, still marching in an oddly hypnotic rhythm. He put it back down, facing the wrong way, and watched it set off down the slope. After a few metres its path began to curve in a wide arc that eventually took it back up the hill. In Newest Delhi, Mathias had studied the local species of crawler, bigger and greener, but otherwise much the same. Sala had shown him that they were actually the seeds of the boondog tree. Their primitive navigation system would guide them away from the parent tree until the stored energy ran out and there they would either rot or put down roots.
Mathias picked up another crawler and sent it back down the slope. He felt like his energy had finally run out and he wondered whether he would grow or rot. It was a depressing thought.
It was a mild evening and, as the sky darkened, Mathias caught himself snatching away from sleep. 'What the hell?' he mumbled, and let himself drift.
At first, he thought the voice was part of his dream. 'Hey, Matt,' it said. 'Don't you guys sleep?' He moved, felt the stiffness send pains through his body, wished he hadn't. Decker. It was Decker's voice. He had to wake up.
He shifted, sat upright and then made himself stand. Slowly, his head cleared and he remembered where he was.
Inside the hut, the screen had come to life. 'Matt. You there?' said Decker.
'Yeah, yeah,' said Mathias. Then he stepped forward and turned the microphone on. 'Yes, I'm here,' he said.
Decker stared out of the screen. 'I got your message,' he said. 'Hey, don't you guys ever sleep?'
'Huh? Oh, not often,' said Mathias. 'We get called up on TV in the middle of the night.'
Decker laughed and said, 'Boy, I wish I could see you—you sound near dead.'
'Hmm. Listen, I called you because I'd like to know what you're doing out there. Are you making any progress?'
'Some,' said Decker, noncommittally.
'I've been wondering about how to tackle it down here,' said Mathias. 'It seems Sukui isn't in any hurry to let people know about the situation. He's waiting for the right time to tell the Prime but he's doing too much else at present.'
'The Prime. He's like your king, right? El Presidente?'
'Hmm. Listen, Decker: I think Sukui's wrong. This isn't the kind of thing you put in the hands of a powerful minority—it should be spread from the bottom up. We have to break it to the people.'
'Vive la revolution,' said Decker. Mathias let it pass. 'How you going to do that?'
'I don't know,' said Mathias. 'Listen, is there any way you can land? Do you have shuttles that could get you down? The people here are pragmatic, they're stuck in ancestral ignorance. The only way to make them believe is for you to be here and show them. I've thought about it a lot and I really believe that's the only way.
The set of Decker's shoulders had changed a little, but Mathias couldn't read anything from his fuzzy expression. 'Yeah, we've got shuttles that could land. I might even be able to get hold of one, but...'
'Decker, I know it's a big thing for you, landing on Expatria, but the people have to see you. We can't get them out into orbit. Will you think about it? It's our one big chance.'
Decker shrugged and laughed, a little uncertainly. 'Sure, Matt. I'll look into it.'
Mathias signed off feeling tremendously relieved. At last something was being done. He had been positive instead of hanging on Sukui's every instruction. He settled down on his heap of blankets in one corner of the hut and sleep took him easily.
~
Lui woke him with a mug of coffee. 'Any news?' he said.
Mathias came round instantly, feeling refreshed. 'I spoke with Decker,' he said. 'Sukui doesn't know, of course. Decker says they're going to try for a landing—then Sukui will have to tell the Prime. I think it's the best way.' He drank from his mug.
'It's dangerous ground,' said Lui. 'You tell Decker to make as if it's his own idea.'
That had been Mathias's plan anyway. 'Or give Sukui the idea to invite him,' he said. 'Yes, I know: I should have been a bureaucrat.'
There was a knock at the hut door and a woman came in, tall and clad in black trooper's leathers. She glanced at Lui and then said to Mathias, 'Mathias Hanrahan? The Prime requests your presence at the conference chambers.'
She stepped outside and waited for him to follow.
Mathias looked at Lui and shrugged. Today's was scheduled to be the final session and he had been looking forward to Alabama City returning to normal. He followed the trooper out.
The streets were warm and dusty. There had been little rain for the past few days; Borodin had blamed what he called the Niño current for stalling the clouds out to sea. Watching the dust rise and fall, Mathias asked why he had been summoned but the soldier ignored him.
They approached the Merchant Chapel and then, instead of climbing over the seated peace protesters and entering the gallery, the trooper veered off and led Mathias across the Alcazar Square and through an inconspicuous gate into the Capitol grounds. Mathias nodded when he realised what was happening. The conference in the Inner Chamber was just for the bureaucrats, for haggling over detail. The real discussions were taking place in the Prime's grand palace, the Capitol.
Outside a pair of high wooden doors a gaggle of officials congested the corridor. Sukui was there, and one or two others Mathias knew from Alabama City. There were also a number of strangers, their clothing looser and of a cruder cut. One of them was Captain Anderson, looking greyer, his face deeply creased. He nodded at Mathias and then looked away.
Sukui broke away from a discussion with a junior and hurried over to stand by Mathias. 'I told you not to mix with Axelmeyer,' he hissed. 'The Prime is greatly displeased.'
Sukui stopped and took a deep breath. Looking around, he adjusted his skullcap and stood up even straighter. 'It is time,' he said aloud. Everybody looked around and a guard opened the double doors. Then, to Mathias, he whispered, 'I have done what, I can. You must be rational.'
The conference room was much like every other room Mathias had seen in Salvo Andric's palace. It was wide and tall, its walls were painted brightly, there were decorated columns and pilasters, and heavy velvet blinds were drawn back from the windows. Set in the centre of the room was a vast table; seated at one side was Andric and at the other, Edward Olfarssen-Hanrahan, looking strangely accustomed to his Primal finery. He had put on weight since Mathias had last seen him, and his features had matured beyond measure.
The attendants filed into the room and sat in banks of chairs at either side of the wide table. Edward glanced along the rows of faces, past Mathias and on along the line. Suddenly his head jerked and he looked back again, finally recognising his half-brother.
Mathias met his gaze without flinching. He still felt safe in Alabama City, despite Sukui's strange warning.
Sukui stood and moved to just behind Andric's left shoulder. 'Lords, attendants. I call to order the third and final session of a most satisfactory set of discussions. At Prime Hanrahan's request, there will follow a summary of agreements reached to date. The fishing fleet of...'
Mathias stared out of the window at the pale blue sky; still no clouds in sight. As Sukui talked, Mathias worked out the location of this room in relation to the rest of the Capitol. After a few minutes he smiled. He had been right: a dish could be pointed at the correct angle through that window to receive the signals from orbit. He returned his attention to the proceedings.
Sukui was still talking. '...a seven-month conditional posting of an observer unit in each of Alabama City and Newest Delhi, to be commenced upon signature of this Treaty of Accord...' Mathias stared out of the window again, wondering why he had been called to attend this session. It seemed that it would consist entirely of Sukui reading from this 'Treaty of Accord'—hostilities would cease, not that they had ever been official, of course; trade would be encouraged; free passage of citizens would be allowed, by permit; and it would all be supervised by an observer unit in each capital. Mathias was pleased that the troubles were over, because it would allow the Project to continue and it would remove the obstacles to Sukui informing Andric about the Orbitals and the ship from Earth. But also it made him even more eager to get back to his work. He sat back in his seat and wondered how long the session would last.
Sukui continued for nearly an hour. It had been a productive summit.
Then he paused and looked across at Mathias. 'Now,' he said. 'We come to a matter raised by the good Lord, Prime Edward Olfarssen-Hanrahan, at last night's closed session. May I suggest the good Lord might continue?' He bowed his head and backed away from the conference table.
Edward tipped his chair back on two legs and looked around the room. 'Yes,' he said. 'The summit has been productive. But I have one last request to make of you, Salvo. It is a personal matter.
'Seated in this room is the man who murdered my father.' Edward glowered at Mathias, then smiled sweetly at Andric. 'This summit would be sealed on a most... positive note if you would be as good as to grant extradition of this man for trial in Newest Delhi. Although this is not a condition of the treaty, please, Salvo, allow justice to be done.'
Mathias studied his half-brother's face.
Edward had acquired a certain confidence from his time in office, but he was still the same: slippery, underhand. No, it was not a condition of the treaty, but everyone in that room knew the treaty was worthless if this final 'request' was not granted.
Mathias glanced across at Salvo Andric. The Prime was talking quietly with Sukui. He looked up and met Mathias's gaze, then looked at Edward. 'You raised this point last night,' he said, and then paused. 'This individual has caused trouble even here, but that is no confession of guilt. No, no'—he raised his hands to ward off Edward's objections—'I do not wish to cast judgement on this case.
'This individual has become particularly troublesome in recent weeks and I confess that it is a great temptation to ship him back to Newest Delhi. I have considered the matter at length, since you mentioned it to me.' He looked at Mathias. 'I am glad you do not make this a condition of the treaty,' he continued. 'Because this individual is an adopted citizen of Alabama City. If his choice is to remain here then I would not wish to interfere.'
Sukui bowed his head to Mathias. This was clearly what he had meant by his warning and the comment that he had done what he could.
Edward was looking at Mathias as, it seemed, was everyone in the room. 'Of course,' said Edward, 'this is no condition. But it would greatly ease relations between our two great nations. A fair trial in Newest Delhi would remove one remaining source of conflict. What do you say, Mathias Hanrahan? Have you acquired the integrity to stand up for what you have done?'
Andric was looking at him, too. It was clearly expected that he should reply. He had not expected the Prime's backing, even as strained as it clearly was.
A voice was clamouring in the back of Mathias's mind, telling him that he could stay in Alabama City.
He wanted to laugh, the tension inside him was so great. He could stay! He thought of the Project, of the need to disclose the existence of the Orbitals and the ship from Earth. Things were at a delicate stage.
Mathias stood.
'I am greatly indebted to the good Lord, Prime Salvo Andric, for his hospitality and fairness,' he said. 'I feel duty-bound to accept Edward Olfarssen's offer of a trial—I trust it will be fair, as he claims: I have nothing to hide.' The voice was still clamouring in the back of his head, screaming, bouncing around the inside of his skull, demanding to know why he had sealed his fate in such a way.
He shook his head angrily, trying to still the voice, and sat down.
The Project was at such a delicate stage—if hostilities were resumed then communication with the Orbitals might easily stumble at the first obstacle. By returning to Newest Delhi peace would be secured and the Project could continue.
Mathias looked across at Sukui. His self-control had won. It was the rational decision.
~
'Decker, we have to talk—I don't have much time.' It was strange how quickly Decker had become the one person Mathias could talk to. But now there was more than just talking to do, he had to try to explain the situation so that his sacrifice would be more than an empty gesture.
Mathias had returned to Dixie Hill. It had been late and the others—Helena and Sunny—had left immediately. Nobody liked the idea of staying with a condemned man.
It was all very civilised. Troopers had not seized him as soon as he had announced his decision. He had been given until dawn, then he would join Edward's delegation to begin the journey back to Newest Delhi. Until then he was free, although he felt sure no one would let him leave Alabama. Not now.
The summit had not lasted long after Mathias had spoken. Captain Anderson had informed him of the arrangements and then he had found himself in the corridor with Sukui. 'It took a great deal to convince the Lord to offer you freedom,' Sukui had said, still talking in the restrained manner he had employed in the conference room. 'I expected you to take the opportunity. Would you explain?'
'The Project is at a delicate stage,' Mathias replied. 'You know that. If I don't go back Edward will escalate the troubles until I'm faced with the same decision later on.'
'I think you judge your half-brother accurately. Your future is important to him.'
'You have to let people know about the real situation. If I can win you peace for a time, then maybe things will work out. If not... well, the ship from Earth will arrive amid a war with no one waiting to meet them. You have to spread the word, Sukui-san. That's why I did this.'
Sukui had stopped to stare at him. 'Mathias Hanrahan,' he said. 'You have become a rational man.' Then they had parted and Mathias returned to the research hut.
He slept little, that night. He didn't really try. All he wanted was to play the blues with the Monotones. He could play the slap drums, maybe relearn the mouth-organ. He would work at it. He knew, now, that he would work at it.
The time just before sunrise was the worst.
Mathias sat with his back to the wooden slats of the hut, watching the sky slowly grow pale. A bank of clouds was riding in from the sea, the Niño finally having given way to more conventional currents; the sun, although still hanging below the horizon, picked out the edges of the clouds, made them silver with tinges of gold. Gradually, colour seeped into the mid-grey of the morning sky, like blood spreading through a puddle.
'Matt? You listening?'
Mathias leapt to his feet and then hurried in to the microphone. Decker was on TV, looking around as if he was trying to peer out. 'Matt, are you there?'
'Decker, I'm here. Thanks for calling.'
'Trouble?'
'You could put it that way. Listen, I won't be speaking to you again. I have to go away.'
'What's happening?'
'It's a diplomatic affair. The details aren't important. You'll be dealing with the others, from now. I guess it'll be Sukui—if you need someone more sympathetic you could ask for a friend of mine: Lui Tsang.' Mathias heard footsteps outside; time was leaking away. There was so much he had wanted to say. 'Decker, I have to go now. Remember: the only way to make any progress down here is to be here. The people have to see you if they're going to believe in you.'
'Sure, Matt. But—'
The door opened and a leather-clad trooper looked inside. There were two more standing on the grassy slope, a short distance away. The trooper looked around the room—her eyes skipping over the face on the TV screen as if it didn't exist—and cleared her throat. 'Mathias Hanrahan?' she said. 'Would you step this way?'
'You know my name, Louisa.' The trooper looked uncomfortable. She stood aside as Mathias stepped past.
Behind him he heard Decker's voice raised. 'Hey! What's going on? What's happening?'
Mathias turned and called to the microphone, despite Louisa's strange looks. 'I have to go now.'
He just heard Decker say, 'Not now! Hey, what was that name? Hey come back! Come—' and then the door shut softly, cutting off his words. Mathias glanced at the blank-faced troopers and then, sadly, he began his journey back to the city of his birth.