Аластер Рейнольдс - The Iron Tactician

A glowing orange light shone ahead. Merlin was just starting to puzzle over its origin when they burst into a huge underground chamber, a bubble in the crust of Havergal. The floor of the bubble was a sea of lava, spitting and churning, turbulent with the eddies and currents of some mighty underground flow which just happened to pass in and out of this chamber. Suspended in the middle of the rocky void, underlit by flickering orange light, was a dark structure shaped like an inverted cone, braced in a ring and attached to the chamber’s walls by three skeletal, cantilevered arms. It was the size of a small palace or space station, and its flattened upper surface was easily spacious enough for both ships to set down on with room to spare.

Bulkily suited figures – presumably protected against the heat and toxic airs of this place – came out and circled the ships. They attached a flexible docking connection to Renouncer .

‘We call it the facility,’ Baskin said, as he and his guests walked down the sloping throat of the docking connector. ‘Just that. No capital letters, nothing to suggest its ultimate importance. But for many centuries this was the single most important element in our entire defence plan. It was here that we hoped to learn how to make the syrinx work for us.’ He turned back to glance at Merlin and Teal. ‘And where we failed – or continue to fail, I should say. But we had no intention of giving up, not while there was a chance.’

Teal and Merlin were led down into the suspended structure, into a windowless warren of corridors and laboratories. They went down level after level, past sealed doors and observation galleries. There was air and power and light, and clearly enough room for thousands of workers. But although the place was clean and well-maintained, hardly anyone now seemed to be present. It was only when they got very deep that signs of activity began to appear. Here the side-rooms and offices showed evidence of recent use, and now and then uniformed staff members passed them, carrying notes and equipment. But Merlin detected no sign of haste or excitement in any of the personnel.

The lowest chamber of the structure was a curious circular room. Around its perimeter were numerous desks and consoles, with seated staff at least giving the impression of being involved in some important business. They were all facing the middle of the room, whose floor was a single circular sheet of glass, stretched across the abyss of the underlying lava flow. The orange glow of that molten river underlit the faces of the staff, as if reminding them of the perilous location of their workplace. The glass floor only caught Merlin’s eye for an instant, though. Of vastly more interest to him was the syrinx, suspended nose-down in a delicate cradle over the middle of the glass. It was too far from the floor to be reached, even if someone had trusted the doubtful integrity of that glass panel. Merlin was just wondering how anyone got close to the syrinx when a flimsy connecting platform was swung out across the glass, allowing a woman to step over the abyss. Tiptoeing lightly, she adjusted something on the syrinx, moving some sort of transducer from one chalked spot to another, before folding the platform away and returning to her console.

All was quiet, with only the faintest whisper of communications from one member of staff to another.

‘In the event of an imminent malfunction,’ Baskin said, ‘the syrinx may be dropped through the pre-weakened glass, into the lava sea. That may or may not destroy it, of course. We don’t know. But it would at least allow the workers some chance of fleeing the facility, which would not be the case if we used nuclear charges.’

‘I’m glad you’ve got their welfare at heart,’ Merlin said.

‘Don’t think too kindly of us,’ Baskin smiled back. ‘This is war. If we thought there was a chance of the facility itself being overrun, then more than just the syrinx would need to be destroyed. Also the equipment, the records, the collective expertise of the workers…’

‘You’d drop the entire structure,’ Teal said, nodding her horrified understanding. ‘The reason it’s fixed the way it is, on those three legs. You’d press a button and drop all these people into that fire.’

‘They understand the risks,’ Baskin said. ‘And they’re paid well. Extremely well, I should say. Besides, it’s a very good incentive to hasten the work of understanding.’

Merlin felt no kinship with these warring peoples, and little more than contempt for what they had done to themselves across all these centuries. But compared to the Waymakers, Merlin, Teal and Baskin may as well have been children of the same fallen tribe, playing in the same vast and imponderable ruins, not one of them wiser than the others.

‘I’ll need persuasion that it’s real,’ he said.

‘I never expected you to take my word for it,’ Baskin said. ‘You may make whatever use of the equipment here you need, within limits, and you may question my staff freely.’

‘Easier if you just let me take it for a test ride.’

‘Yes, it would – for you.’ Baskin reached out and settled a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, as if they were two old comrades. ‘Shall we agree – a day to complete your inspection?’

‘If that’s all you’ll allow.’

‘I’ve nothing to hide, Merlin. Do you imagine I’d ever expect to dupe a man like you with a fake? Go ahead and make your enquiries – my staff have already been told to offer you complete cooperation.’ Baskin touched a hand to the side of his mouth, as if whispering a secret. ‘Truth to tell, it will suit many of them if you take the syrinx. Then they won’t feel obliged to keep working in this place.’

They were given a room in the facility, while Merlin made his studies of the syrinx. The staff were as helpful as Baskin had promised, and Merlin soon had all the equipment and records he could have hoped for. Short of connecting the syrinx to Tyrant ’s own diagnostic systems, he was able to run almost every test he could imagine, and the results and records quickly pointed to the same conclusion. The syrinx was the genuine article.

But Merlin did not need a whole day to arrive at that conclusion.

While Baskin kept Teal occupied with endless discussions in Main, learning all that he could from this living speaker, Merlin used the console to dig into Havergal’s history, and specifically the background and career of Baskin’s long-dead ancestor, King Curtal. He barely needed to access the private records; what was in the public domain was clear enough. Curtal had come to power within a decade of the Shrike ’s visit to this system.

Merlin waited until they were alone in the evening, just before they were due to dine with Prince Baskin.

‘You’ve been busy all day,’ Teal said. ‘I take it you’ve reached a verdict by now?’

‘The syrinx? Oh, that was no trouble at all. It’s real, just as Baskin promised. But I used my time profitably, Teal. I found out something else as well – and I think you’ll find it interesting. You were right about that portrait, you see.’

‘I know you enjoy these games, Merlin. But if you want to get to the point…’

‘The man who became King Curtal began life called Tierce.’ He watched her face for the flicker of a reaction that he knew she would not be able to conceal. The recognition of a name, across years or centuries, depending on the reckoning.

Merlin cleared his throat before continuing.

‘Tierce was a high-ranking officer in the Havergal military command – assigned to the liaison group which dealt with the Shrike . He’d have had close contact with your crew during the whole time you were in-system.’

Her mouth moved a little before she found the words. ‘Tell me what happened to Tierce.’