The Gabble and Other Stories (8 page)

‘Those are serious accusations. What proof do you have?’

‘I had full sensorium recordings of conversations and bribes, documentation, and eighteen witnesses. When I . . . died, my files were dumped. Of the witnesses, four went offworld, and seven suffered fatal accidents while I was alive. Two more made official withdrawals of their statements, and the remaining five were hit while I was being reified.’

‘Is Soper implicated in all this?’

Garp looked at Salind. ‘What do you think? There’s no admissible evidence and the judiciary is refusing the investigators permission to investigate.’

‘What then are your intentions?’

Garp remained silent for a moment. He halted at a spill of treels before speaking. ‘I saw the look you gave this gun. It’s not what you think. It’s the only piece of hard evidence I possess.’

He turned and gazed directly at Salind, his eye irrigators hazing the air around his face with spray. ‘You know, they wiped me out. All my files, even my personal files, were dumped from the system. It was an accident they said. I might well have not existed.’ Garp walked on, crunching treels underfoot.

‘This hard evidence ...?’ Salind said, moving round the treel spill.

‘Useless now of course. This weapon had her fingerprints and DNA traces on the handle.

It was found by the body of Aaron Dane. She’d blown off both his legs at the knee before beating him to death with the barrel. And so confident was she in her control of the judiciary, and certain police officials, she didn’t bother to get rid of the evidence. I had it all on record . . .’

‘Well, it’ll all change with the arrival of Geronamid. Corruption tends to wither under AI governance.’

Garp made a rough hacking sound. It took a moment for Salind to realize it was a laugh.

Garp glanced sidewise at him. ‘I do not possess your faith in AI governance. Either the vote will be fixed to keep us out of the Polity or if we go in Soper will refocus her business interests. She’s wealthy enough now to play the upright citizen.’

‘Wouldn’t you say that what such people do is more about power than wealth?’

As they reached the gateway to the park, Garp did not immediately reply. They walked out onto the pavement alongside a street crammed with hydrocars. The air was humid with their exhausts.

‘Maybe, but Soper is not stupid enough to go up against the Polity. She’ll be a good citizen and her past will be dumped just as absolutely as mine. The amnesty will see to that.

Soper is sitting back in a no-lose position. If the Tronad prevents the Polity takeover they’re okay.

If they don’t, they get amnesty; the slate wiped clean, a new beginning.’

‘I can see how that would upset you.’

‘Masterly understatement.’

‘Perhaps we should begin at the beginning.’ Salind pointed to a roadside cafe. ‘Present your case to me and through me to the citizens of the Polity.’

Garp stopped at a crossing and before stepping out said, ‘We’ll need a private booth. My presence tends to put people off their lunch.’

* * * *

Two five-metre-tall nacreous bull’s horns framed a shimmering meniscus eight metres across.

The shimmer broke, and somersaulting through it onto the black glass dais came a young man clad in a white slicksuit. His hair was blue, face painted.

‘Well, I’m sure we could call it something like: “He fought what he has become -

corruption”.’ said Salind.

Geoff, the staffer from the Tarjen offices, nodded, then made adjustments on the fullsense recorder he was holding - a device that could record with greater clarity than the hardware inside Salind’s skull. A tall woman with an external aug almost covering her head gave them both a dirty look from amid the crowd of reporters.

‘A rather flip way of treating his story. Garp was and is a good man,’ said Geoff.

Salind studied him for a moment. Tarjen employed its staffers from the local population.

It might be worth doing a few interviews.

‘I’m sure that’s true,’ said Salind. ‘But, though a good story, it’s a footnote to the main event. This.’ Salind gestured to the runcible portal as two Golem androids, without artificial skin, stepped through and aside as guards. He wondered what that was about. Their metal skeletons were grey, almost corroded in appearance - a highly unusual occurrence.

‘If this is what you’re here for, then shaddup and watch,’ said the woman.

‘Get your bloody great metal head out of the way, Merril,’ said the man behind her.

‘Is it my problem you’re a short-arse?’ she snapped back.

‘It’s certainly my problem that your pea-brain needs such a large augmentation.’

The bickering continued as next through the portal came four Earth monitors in full battledress. They were armoured and carried gas-system pulse assault rifles. They moved out on either side to stand by the Golem androids.

‘Bit OTT,’ said the man trying to see past Merril’s aug-shrouded head.

‘All show,’ said Merril. ‘The effective forces are already here.’

‘You what?’ said the man.

‘She means,’ said Salind, ‘that Geronamid’s agents have probably been arriving here and establishing themselves over the last few months if not years.’

Geoff gave him a look then returned his attention to his recorder.

‘I don’t need some kidrep from that Tarjen rag to explain my words,’ said Merril, without looking round. Salind ignored her and nodded to the waiting crowd of dignitaries.

‘Probably knows every one of their dirty little secrets . . . Bloody hell, that’s a bit extravagant even for Geronamid.’

Those who had been watching the dignitaries, or subvocalizing commentaries, paused.

There came an intake of breath. Through the portal had come two voluptuous women clad as fantasy barbarians. This was not what drew the attention though. That they each held silver chain leashes connecting to the collar of a huge allosaur did cause a little consternation.

‘Someone tell me that’s an automaton and not from the fossil gene project,’ said the man behind Merril.

‘That’s an automaton and not from the fossil gene project,’ said Salind.

‘Thanks for that.’

Next came jugglers and street musicians, followed by a crowd who seemed to have just come from a party. The arrival lounge rapidly filled with a cacophony of sound and movement.

‘Well where the hell is Geronamid?’ asked Geoff, as he swept the area with the sensor heads of his recorder. Salind pointed to the lone acrobat who had come through first and was now doing back-flips in front of the increasingly irritated-looking allosaur.

‘Him usually,’ he said. ‘Though it’s difficult to tell. On Tarus Five Geronamid came through dispersed - memory units implanted in each of twelve circus clowns.’

The group of dignitaries began to make their way across the lounge, heading towards the acrobat.

‘Looks like I was right,’ said Salind. ‘They’ll have been told who to greet.’

The dignitaries had nearly reached the acrobat, who ceased his display and stood with his arms held out in greeting. There came a stuttering thud as of the sound of a lump of meat being thrown into a fan. The smile on the acrobat’s face disappeared along with his head. Brains and pieces of bone sprayed over the allosaur.

After a shocked pause someone started screaming.

‘Rail-gun,’ commented Merril and chaos broke loose. Police and security agents were running around shouting into personal com units. Salind saw one of these men lose his leg then fall to the ground, his expression puzzled. Salind was still watching and recording when Geoff grabbed him and dragged him to the floor.

‘Let me up! Let me the fuck up!’ Salind yelled. Eventually Geoff rolled away and Salind scrambled to his feet. He scanned quickly and saw where Merril and the rest of the vultures were heading. The two skinless androids had pinned someone to the floor. The Earth monitors kept the crowd from gathering around this individual, and the Banjer police encircled the acrobat’s remains.

‘Let me through! Let me through!’ yelled Salind, using his trusted elbows-and-knees technique to get to the forefront of the first crowd. When arrived there he recognized a slightly putrid smell, and seeing the pinned figure he felt a moment’s horrible glee.

‘Shit we’ve got a story,’ he said, then paused. He felt the crowd clearing from behind him.

A hot breath raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Turning, he looked straight into the tooth-filled mouth of the blood-spattered allosaur. It glanced aside at the dead acrobat then down at the prisoner. Salind quickly stepped aside.

‘Murderer,’ came the guttural accusation of the allosaur.

Garp glared up from the floor, his eye-irrigators working overtime. His eyes were blank white spheres overlaid with narrow gridlines.

* * * *

The room was clean, aseptic and not a very nice place to be. Formchairs positioned against white tile were all in perfect condition, no graffiti marred the walls, and not a speck of dust r rubbish littered the banoak coral floor. Yet the room smelt of vomit and fear. Salind tried to ignore that, since it didn’t apply to him, a Polity citizen.

‘The AI Geronamid arrived on Banjer in the skull of a living allosaur, reputedly resurrected by the fossil gene project at the University of Earth on Midlantis Island. In this “acting of parable” he demonstrated the coexistence of the old and the new. The attempted assassination of Geronamid by another resurrectee, one Abel Garp, a reified officer of the Banjer police force, has undermined the . . . Yes?’ asked Salind.

The Banjer cop said nothing, but gestured to the door with his thumb. Salind considered walking out right then, since he didn’t
have
to help them. But then, there’d be more here for his story. Even though he was way ahead of all the other agencies, he went.

The cop led him down a perfectly clean corridor and opened another door for him. Salind entered and felt suddenly as if he had stepped back five hundred years.

‘An interrogation cell. How quaint,’ he commented.

‘Sit down,’ instructed the man behind the desk.

Salind glanced up at the camera set up in the corner of the room. A meaty hand on his back propelled him gently but firmly to the stool on the other side of the desk. He sat, and just to show his confidence he crossed his legs and casually scanned his surroundings.

‘You are Mr Gem Salind?’

‘Just call me Salind, everyone does.’

The man opposite did not look up. ‘I am Superintendent Callus - by name and nature some say. You are aware that when you came to Banjer you stepped out of Polity jurisdiction?’

Callus looked up and, placing his elbows on the desk, interlaced his fingers before his mouth.

‘I was aware. I am also aware that I have broken no laws, be they of the Polity or Banjer,’

Salind replied.

Callus nodded. ‘Having knowledge of a serious crime and not reporting it to the authorities is a crime in itself.’

‘So I understand, and if I’d knowledge of such I would, of course, report it to you immediately.’

‘You knew what Garp intended.’

‘No, if you’d listened to my statement at the time . . .’

‘You saw the rail-gun.’

‘Oh get real. It’s all a matter of public record. If he threatened anyone it was Deleen Soper, and that’s debatable.’

A hard hand clouted him on the back of his head.

‘What the fuck!’

He half turned, but the thug behind him grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. He was forced to continue looking forwards.

‘Around here we respect the law.’ As Callus said this, the thug behind drove a fist into Salind’s kidneys.

‘You fucking—’

Another blow curtailed speech, and more blows followed.

I’m being assaulted in the Siroc police headquarters!

Message relayed.

Finally released, Salind fell from the chair onto his hands and knees and retched up his breakfast.

‘Are you in pain? Would you like me to get a doctor?’ Callus enquired.

Salind could not reply, so leaning over to peer down at him, Callus continued, ‘I understand that you can record everything you see, hear and smell. Perhaps you’d like to edit that mess out.’ He nodded towards the pool of vomit. ‘Perhaps it would also be well for you to remember that you cannot see everything and not everything is said. In future I suggest you report to us before you release unsubstantiated stories about our citizens.’

Message reply: Geoff is on his way over and the Tarjen legal department has been
informed. Geoff also sends a personal message: They will only rough you up a little. If anything
more was intended you would not have been taken to the police station. You would have been
taken to the Groves.

Finally managing to get his breath, Salind struggled to his feet and turned towards his attacker. The cop had stepped back and now stood with his hands behind his back - the perfect image of the disinterested observer. It had all been done very well.

‘You won’t get away . . . with this,’ Salind managed, then could have kicked himself for such naiveté.

‘Get away with what, exactly?’ said Callus. ‘Now, Mr Salind, if you could bear my words in mind we would be grateful for your cooperation.’

Callus stood up and reached across the desk to shake Salind’s hand.

‘Fuck off.’ Salind moved to the door, keeping the both of them in view. No one followed him out. He staggered to the waiting room, then to the security barrier leading out onto the street. Fifty metres down the pavement, his breathing had become little easier when a hydrocar pulled up and its door popped open. He clambered in.

‘You okay?’ asked Geoff.

‘I think they were acting as Deleen Soper’s message delivery service.’ Salind probed his bruised kidneys.

‘Quite likely. What now?’

‘Pull the legals off. I don’t want anything getting in the way. Then I want to find out what’s happening with Garp. Geronamid’s people grabbed him didn’t they?’

‘Yes, then what?’

‘Then I interview Deleen Soper.’

Geoff looked askance at him then pulled the hydrocar out into the traffic.

‘Already been done,’ he said.