Skyfall (14 page)

‘Now think about everything you've seen tonight. Do you really think that containment poses a serious problem anymore? Do you think the Darklanders are going to be rushing over the walls to destroy the rest of the human race at any time in the near future?'

Lari remembered the size of that wall and mentally compared it with the tiny figure they'd watched, silhouetted alone in the middle of the desert.

‘Not really.'

‘Of course not. It's a smokescreen. Given the relative size and age of the Darklander population, the chance of them escaping the zone is negligible, and even if they did, it wouldn't matter. By this time they're such a statistically insignificant race that any impact they could have, assuming they could even make contact with us, would be minor at best. So containment clearly has nothing to do with DGAP. It hasn't for centuries. Which leaves us with …'

‘Study.'

‘Exactly. But Larinan, why would the Prelature continue to invest resources in the study of a race of people who, as we've just established, are no longer an ongoing threat to humanity?'

Lari considered this. The Prelature wasn't known for its generosity in the way it managed the city. Everything was a resource of some kind, and resources were just too valuable to waste on luxuries. The same would be true of the administration of other skycities, too.

‘It wouldn't.'

‘You're right, it wouldn't. Everyone knows that production protocols for water and food have been steadily lowered for the last fifty years, yet DGAP still receives whatever we need to continue our work, which, as you've just pointed out, appears to serve no useful purpose.'

‘But there's been talk of shutting down the project. I read about it on the webs this morning.'

Dernan Mann chuckled. ‘Smoke and mirrors, Larinan. You'd be amazed how long people will tolerate something if they think it has a finite term of existence. And most people have been so conditioned by a thousand years of webbing and propaganda that they don't even think to question DGAP'

‘Some people do. What about them?'

‘Generally speaking, unless you have a voice, you don't have power, and the Prelate does a lot to ensure that those people brave enough to ask questions don't have a voice. Or at least, not for very long. But we're getting off the topic. Have you solved the problem yet?'

‘Which one?'

‘If DGAP has no reason to continue to exist, why does the Prelature allow it to do so?'

Lari considered this while the flyer streaked high over the Darklands wall. The line of red beacons flashed past against the ground.

‘Come on, copygen, it's obvious.' Even in the dark, Lari could make out Janil's smirk.

‘Well, I can't see it,' Lari snapped back.

‘That's always been your problem, little brother. You can never see what's right in front of you.'

‘And you've always had a talent for stating the obvious.'

Janil didn't retort, but the look he threw Lari was loaded with such smug superiority that Lari paused, thinking furiously.

‘You're finally getting it, aren't you?' Janil's tone was taunting. ‘It's right in front of you.'

Lari ignored him. ‘If the original function of DGAP has become redundant, we have to assume that the Prelate knows it, and yet she continues to support the department,' he said slowly.

‘Keep going,' Dernan Mann encouraged.

‘Which means she must have other reasons to give that support.'

‘And therefore …'

‘And therefore DGAP must serve some other function. A purpose nobody knows about.'

‘Well done, Larinan. See, all you have to do is think.'

‘So the question is what you're really up to.'

‘Not just us, you too, Larinan. As of today.'

An instrument chimed softly and Janil touched an icon on the control display.

‘We'll be at the outer marker in about an hour.' Janil sat back and left the flyer controls to the processor.

‘Are you going to tell me what this secret purpose is? Or do I have to work that out myself, too?'

‘If we wait for you to solve it, we'll be out here all night,' Janil remarked.

‘You already know some of it, Larinan.' His father loosened his harness and leaned forward, his head appearing between the seats and his expression serious. ‘You were in that meeting this afternoon, you saw what happened when Janil raised the question of the entropy scenario.'

‘But I still don't know what it's about.'

Dernan Mann slipped back into the darkness. ‘Explain it, Janil.'

‘Well?' Lari looked at his brother expectantly.

Janil said nothing, apparently concentrating on the readouts for the flyer, then he looked his little brother straight in the eye.

‘We're all going to die.'

Somewhere on the white plain another mind touches hers.

She stops, freezes. Turns. Searches.

For a moment, nothing.

But then it's there again, faint, featherlike. The tiniest brush of some other consciousness against her own.

Girl?

Yes.

You gotta learn to ride the skyfire, girl.

What?

You wanna stop falling, you gotta ride the skyfire.

I don't understand.

You will.

Gone.

Somewhere behind her, the plain begins to dissolve, the hard whiteness falling away into nothing. She runs, fleeing before it as fast as she can; ahead is only more of the same endless bright plain; behind, emptiness. She can feel it coming closer, faster, swamping.

Below her, the plain grows softer, colder, less stable. She feels it crumbling beneath her.

She looks down into …

Nothingness.

Cold, white nothingness.

There's a sudden surge, a panic, as she hurls herself out, reaching.

And for an instant, something is there. Something not earthwarmth. Something so hot it feels cold. Something so powerful it's barely there.

It sears her mind and she screams silently as she pulls from it.

And then she's falling again, just like always …

Falling …

‘They're all going to die,' she said.

The statement was met with mute disbelief.

‘Forgive my daughter, gentlemen.' The last thing they needed now was to scare off this particular group. ‘She tends to overstate things occasionally. There will, however, be … some unfortunate but unavoidable damage caused by our disruption, and it would most definitely be a good idea if none of your people were present at the event. That is why we're informing you now of our intentions. During the time windows we've outlined, you'd be well advised to keep out of the target area.'

‘That's all very well, but what happens afterwards?' asked a short, elderly man with a hole where his nose should have been. ‘What happens when the topsiders come down here looking for the culprits? Where do you think they'll look, eh? They'll need someone to blame and chances are it's going to be our people, not yours. You lot'll melt away into the shadows like you always do. It seems to me that you're not giving us any choice here, Ratz, just dragging us into your little war whether we like it or not.'

There were mutterings of agreement from the small group who'd assembled in the shadowy recesses of one of the ancient towers.

‘I'm sorry you feel that way, brother Weymouth, but surely you can see that what the Underground are doing, we're doing for the betterment of us all? We don't want a “war”, as you so indelicately put it. We want peace as much as anyone. But we want a
just
peace. An equitable one. We don't want our children dying down here in the shadows because the water recyc in their domes doesn't function properly and they're forced to drink their own filth. We don't want them sick because they're not entitled to more than two hours power per day and their homes are constantly cold. All we want is a voice, and for people to listen to that voice. Sadly, though, the Prelature doesn't think any of us deserve that.'

‘You're very good with words, I'll give you that. But what good will your words be to us when security brings its pacifiers down here and starts making free with them?'

‘It won't happen, brother. I give you my word.'

‘Hah!' The old man laughed, the noise a hollow hiss. ‘And what's that worth?'

Beside him, Gregor felt Jem tense, and he placed a restraining hand on her arm before fixing the man with a cold stare.

‘You should know me well enough by now, Brother, to know that it's worth a great deal. Here or anywhere else.'

Gregor's words echoed upwards, between the ancient buildings and into the gloomy twilight that filled the space between the underworld and the skycity. Finally, Weymouth nodded, a short, ungracious little bob of his head.

‘Aye, I'll give you that. You do keep your word.'

‘Good.'

‘I'd like to know what's different about this disruption,' said one of the women. ‘She said they're all going to die. What'd that mean?'

‘As I said, my daughter is inclined to exaggerate. True, we have decided that our current campaign of interference hasn't been having the desired effect, so we've decided to' – he paused, considering how best to express it – ‘escalate things and adopt an approach which should have a greater direct impact on the citizens of the upper levels.'

‘Are you sure that's wise? Seems to me you'll be taking our problems with the Prelature out on those who haven't done anything to deserve it.'

‘A sad necessity, I'm afraid, my friends. We want our voices heard. We want the Underground noticed. Unfortunately, in a city where the dissemination of information is so thoroughly managed and controlled by those with power, being heard isn't easy. A grand gesture is required.'

‘And what exactly is this “grand gesture” you've got in mind, then?'

Gregor grew serious. ‘That, my friends, must remain a secret, at least for the moment. Trust me, though, it will serve a greater purpose.'

‘And what's that?'

‘It will draw attention to our voices, of course. I promise you, we
will
be heard, whether the upper levels want to listen or not. We'll give them no choice.'

There was some muttering and several hushed conversations. Then Weymouth stepped forward again.

‘We need to talk about this. Alone.'

‘Of course. My daughter and I will wait over there. Send someone when you've reached a decision.'

Gregor and Jem withdrew to a pile of rubble in the shadows. Gregor perched on a large, smooth slab of concrete – down here in the old city everything was concrete. Jem, though, paced forwards and backwards, her agitation clear, even though her face remained hidden behind its mask.

‘Father, what are you doing?' Her voice was pitched for him alone.

‘Patience, daughter. We're giving them time to feel as though they have some say in what happens next.'

‘I still don't understand why we're even here. Everything's in place, our people know the plan. The Underground doesn't need shiftie shi like this lot to—'

‘Don't you understand it yet, Jem? These people
are
the Underground. The Underground
is
these shiftie shi. Between them, those people over there have the ear of every major clan and family in the lower levels. They control the people who keep the recyc working, who maintain the power grid, who keep the mags running. They clean the domes of the rich, hear their conversations, see their secrets. That little group of outcasts are the real people who keep this stinking hovel of a city perched happily up in the sky, and without their approval, without access to their knowledge and their influence, anything we do is doomed to failure. That's why we're here.'

‘But what if they don't agree? What if all our planning's been for nothing?'

‘They'll agree.'

‘How do you know?' How can you be
certain?'

‘You're forgetting one important thing, daughter. They might be the ones with the influence, but that doesn't mean they're not scared of us. Fear is a useful tool, too.'

‘But if they're the ones with the power—'

‘Did I say they had power? No. I said they had
influence.
There's a big difference and they know it, which is why they'll agree to our proposals. The important thing, though, is that they
think
we're giving them a choice.'

Gregor stopped speaking. Brother Weymouth was approaching them.

‘All right,' he said gruffly. ‘So far, you lot haven't put a foot wrong, so we'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But so help me, if the sky falls on us, we'll make damn certain that you and your Underground are hunted down and staked in the sunlight. You understand?'

‘Perfectly.' Gregor stood up, rising to his full height and towering over the shiftie clan leader. ‘And we thank you for your cooperation. We're building a brighter future for everyone here, brother.'

‘Spare me your pretty words,' the man growled. ‘Jus' make sure it doesn't all go to shi. These things have a way of coming back to bite you on the arse.' The man turned and left, vanishing into the shadows along with everyone else.

‘Charming,' Gregor murmured.

‘How did you know they'd agree?'

‘Because people are afraid of what they can't see. It's the same reason children are scared of the dark. Despite his threats and bluster, Weymouth knows that he could no sooner hunt down the Underground than he could throw the Prelate off the top of her dome. And that gives us a distinct advantage.'

‘So we're going ahead?'

‘Absolutely. Now it's just a question of timing.'