The Governor sighed. “You should heed the words of my adviser,” he said to Macklyn. “He has a great deal of knowledge concerning the Ancients.”

  Mackllyn looked to the other man. “Bastien Nevers. I’m familiar with your history. Always in the shadows, whispering into the ears of important people. Sowing your propaganda.”

  The man‌—‌Bastien‌—‌dipped his head. “I give advice, nothing more. What others do with that advice is not my concern.”

  Macklyn narrowed his eyes. “You deny bias in your words?”

  “To the best of my abilities I strive to be impartial. Twisted knowledge can only lead to lop-sided actions.”

  “And in those supposedly impartial words, you accuse me of being twisted.”

  The Governor raised a hand. “You’re haranguing the messenger without hearing the message.”

  Macklyn turned slowly to face the Governor. “No. I’ve already heard what he has to say. And his information is nothing new. In short, he states that we don’t know enough about the Ancients.”

  “And, therefore we must proceed with caution.”

  “That isn’t information. That’s an assessment. And, as I’ve already explained, one that is found wanting. We cannot rule out invasive designs on their part, and so we must prepare accordingly.”

  “But not wave those preparations in their faces! Yes, we should be ready for every perceivable eventuality, but to overplay an aggressive response may push them into strong retaliation. Better, surely, to approach them in peace.”

  “Even though they’ve come to judge us? I always knew you were little more than a figurehead,” and Macklyn leaned forward, pointing at the Governor, “but I thought you had more sense than this. They judge us! They’ve admitted they will save a few, but what of the rest? They hint at eradication. That means death! And I’m not going to sit back and let these self-righteous arseholes kill me without a fight.”

  The Governor held his hand out as if patting the air. “Understandable, Macklyn. But until we decipher that documentation we cannot assume anything. What if they intend to save the vast majority, ridding us only of the worst of humanity? I’d imagine that’s something you’d approve of.”

  “We don’t know the criteria for this judgement.” Macklyn snorted. “I can’t believe you want to welcome them with open arms.”

  “I advise caution. You know I don’t subscribe to the Heralds’ Utopian ideas.”

  “Oh, please! The Heralds are a sham! They’re not worth considering. But what if there is some truth in their pathetically naive ideas? What if these Ancients do save us?”

  The Governor smiled. “Then all is well.”

  “No!” Macklyn’s fist slammed into the table. The Governor narrowed his eyes. Bastien jumped in his chair.

  And Pryden grinned. Like the piece of slime he was.

  “No,” Macklyn repeated, quieter. “If they save us, we’re beholden to them. They become our saviours, and our masters. By saving us they enslave humanity.”

  Bastien leaned in. “There is, of course, the theory that the Ancients are as human as we are.”

  “If they were once human, they are no longer. And that’s a distraction, Mister Nevers. That’s not a worthy trick.”

  Bastien held up his hands. “I meant no trick.”

  Macklyn snorted, looked like he was about to say something, but the Governor cut him off.

  “We still need to tread with care, Macklyn,” the man said. “Whatever their motives, we can’t provoke what would be an extremely powerful enemy.”

  Macklyn shook his head. “You think I’m not aware of that? You believe I act rashly? Surely you know me better than that, Typhon.”

  “Then show us,” the Governor said. “What do you have, that makes you so certain you can defeat the Ancients? Demonstrate to us that you are in control, and aren’t lashing out through fear.”

  Macklyn’s eyes narrowed. His mouth opened, but the Governor stabbed a finger at the man, shutting him up.

  “Yes, fear,” the Governor continued. “I know you, Macklyn. And I remember what you used to be like, before you got your superior airs. And I know that, inside, you’ve little changed. So I say again, don’t respond through fear. Don’t let your knee-jerk reaction get the better of you. Pause. Use that fine mind, and consider the possibilities before rushing into action. All possibilities. Weight them up. Take advice. As much advice as you can, either that freely given or that bought through your usual devices. But, please, for the sake of all humanity, don’t act rashly!”

  There was silence in the room. Macklyn stared at the Governor, the Governor stared back. Bastien Nevers watched both of them, and his expression was one of intense concentration. And Pryden uncrossed then recrossed his legs, smiling as he watched, like it was some kind of entertainment.

  There was a ping. But nobody in the room reacted. And Piran realised it was from one of his alerts.

  One set up on Casey. On one of her machines.

  He minimised the office sensor, pulled up the one watching Casey. He was there in a heart-beat, like his vessel skipped through Haven’s Deep at the speed of light.

  The medic hovered by the machines, the ceiling tiles bright enough to cast hard shadows beneath his body. He tapped one of the machines then turned, yelled to someone outside.

  The female tech rushed in. They talked, but Piran didn’t have audio up. They were excited, though. And even though they frowned, he saw smiles.

  Piran focused on the hybrid, linked his lattice to Casey’s.

  he sussed.

  Her eyes flickered beneath their closed lids. The tech tapped her terminal, spat fast words. The medic nodded.

 

  He checked data from the machines, found the source of the ping. Heart-rate. It had increased. Piran wasn’t sure what that meant, but the medic wasn’t panicking.

 

  And the hybrid had twisted. Piran didn’t have to pull data‌—‌he could sense it. Where it had sat dormant, it now sparked, like it was pulsing data to Casey’s lattice. Or pulling data from it.

  Or both. Feedback loop, when output reached a threshold.

  Which meant‌…‌which meant she was waking up!

  Her fingers twitched. The medic reached out, like he wanted to hold her hand.

  “Should be there with you, Case. Should be me holding your hand.”

  Then her eyes stopped moving. Her heart-rate dropped. Still higher than it had been, and it beat steadily. The medic nodded. Like this was expected.

  Still asleep.

  “Going to take time, right? However long it takes, Case. Whenever you’re ready.”

  And when she woke, it would be into this situation with the Ancients, wouldn’t it? Wasn’t like Macklyn would let her lounge about. Piran wouldn’t be surprised if the man had already been sussing her, telling her to get back to work.

  He’d expect results. Wasn’t too happy in that meeting, was he? Yeah, Macklyn was feeling the pressure, and he’d pass that down to everyone else.

  So when Casey did wake, Piran had to make things easier for her, right? And that meant figuring stuff out. That meant giving her data she could put in her reports to the main man. Not everything, but enough to keep him satisfied.

  “Going to have loads of catching up when you’re back, Case,” Piran said as he threw the vessel towards the gate once more.

  Deva

  They talked for hours. They pulled food from the dispenser, continued talking as they ate. But Deva struggled. She sat next to Wrench, the words from the Heralds swirling over her head.

  “What was that?” she asked him. “Something about potential?”

  “Yeah.” He might be swiping away on his terminal, but he was paying attention to the conversation. “Documents mention those with potential being worthy.”

  “Potential for what?”

  “Unclear. Loads of jargon, yeah? But Chiron reckons it’s a good sign. They want to help the best of humanity. You know, those who are good. Or try to be.” He shrugged. “They haven’t figured details out yet. But we’re good, right? Means we’re safe.”

  Deva flinched. “I’ve killed people.”

  Wrench didn’t look at her. His mouth twitched before he spoke. “Self-defence. Mitigating circumstances, and all that. And‌…‌and you’ve helped loads of people, right? Saved my life enough times, haven’t you? So the Ancients have to save you in turn, right?”

  “Suppose. If we’ve got this right.”

  Because it all felt too neat. Like some story used to make kids behave‌—‌do good, or the bogeyman gets you.

  And what happened to those the Ancients judged as unworthy? Nobody seemed to be talking about that, but the Ancient in that meeting had talked about cleansing.

  Yeah, the worthy get saved and the rest get washed away. Just like a kid’s story.

  She leaned in to Wrench again. “If they’re going to judge every single person, that’ll take years.”

  “Unless there’s loads more Ancients. I mean, there’s those other pyramids, right? Even rumours of something like a pyramid turning up on Metis.”

  Deva snorted. “Pushing pyramids up from beneath the ground’s one thing. Making one appear on an orbital? Don’t think so.”

  “Said it was only a rumour.”

  “And even if there are more Ancients, there’s billions of people. No way they can get round everyone.” She shuffled. “They’ll probably go by percentages or something.”

  “Percentages?”

  Deva nodded. “You know, that town’s generally okay, so it can survive. They turn up at Athelios, see all the crooks, and destroy it straight away.”

  “There’s good everywhere.”

  “Some places, it’s harder to find. That’s what I’m saying.”

  She sighed. She ran the spoon around her bowl again, even though she had nothing left.

  “Don’t know what we’re doing here anyway,” she muttered.

  But she kept her voice low, and Wrench didn’t hear. He still played about with his terminal while he listened. And Deva knew he’d only hear what he wanted to. Wrench still believed, didn’t he? The Ancients were humanity’s saviours. They were perfect.

  Believing like a child!

  Then Chiron stood.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Been called into a meeting.” He turned to Driskell. “Office designate 147/D. So you’ll know where I am.”

  “With Macklyn?”

  “The call didn’t say.”

  Chiron stepped to the door. It opened for him‌—‌which reinforced what he’d said, about them not being prisoners‌—‌and then he was gone.

  Which meant he wasn’t a prisoner. And Wrench had opened the door earlier, had looked into the corridor.

  But if Wrench went wandering around, guards would bring him back, wouldn’t they?

  The door sealed behind Chiron. And any guards or agents he met, they’d let him walk on, wouldn’t they? They’d see his suit and let him be.

  Deva turned to Driskell. “He can’t patch us into the meeting?”

  “Reckon he would if he could. Don’t fret, kid. Known Chiron for years. He’s a good man.”

  “Years? From before he joined the Heralds?”

  Driskell barked a laugh. “Joined? Chiron formed the Heralds. Started on the idea while he was still with the company, knew someone had to do something to oppose them.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “No reason you would. He doesn’t talk about it. Doesn’t dwell on the past, our Chiron Blake. Always looking to the future.”

  “How long? I know he used to work with Macklyn, and I knew he’d escaped the company, but how long ago did he get out?”

  “Seven, eight years? Something like that. Started small, over in Kefas. Within a year he had a network of a couple of hundred, then split it into subsidiaries. All semi-independent, too. Thousands of us now‌—‌this place, Gaia, even the outer rocks. Hell, I reckon he’d have a group on Metis if he could figure it out.”

  “And he built it all by himself?”

  “Him and those he trusted. You have to understand, he’d worked deep Kaiahive for years, had contacts all over the place. Some were loyal to the company, but‌…‌well, you know what the company’s like, how many want out. Chiron called in favours, gave people opportunities. Reckon he’d been working on his network for years before leaving, putting things in place.”

  “And Kaiahive were never suspicious? Not even Macklyn?”

  “Probably. But Chiron’s smart. Knows how Macklyn works. Rumour is, he made some kind of deal with the man.”

  Deva frowned. “A deal?”

  “Personal. Reckon he’s got something on Macklyn, threatened to release it if Macklyn got too nosey. Don’t know what the intel is, but it must be good, right? It ever comes to light, Macklyn’s gone.”

  And something about that didn’t ring true.

  “So why hasn’t he used the information?” Deva asked. “He’s out, and they’ve been hunting him, right? Means Macklyn’s gone back on their deal. So why not screw Macklyn over, get rid of him?”

  Driskell shrugged. “Can’t say. Chiron’s a man of his word. And maybe he never had any solid information. Wouldn’t put it past him to play a bluff.”

  “That would explain why they came after him,” Wrench said. “Once Macklyn figured out he’d been had, he’d want revenge. Seems the type.”

  “Oh, he’s the type. You cross Macklyn Grivas, you’re in his sights for life.”

  But Macklyn had let Chiron sit in that meeting. He’d let Chiron into Haven’s Deep, with his people. They’d let her and Wrench in too, even though the company had been hunting them down.

  She didn’t buy all this crap about a truce. Kaiahive‌—‌and this Macklyn monster‌—‌didn’t play fair like that.

  No, there was something else going on here. And it involved Chiron.

  Deva’s stomach twisted.

  Keelin

  Keelin returned to the marsh, telling herself she wasn’t responsible for Tallia. If the woman wanted to disappear, that was her own business. And Keelin still had a job‌—‌to figure out what happened with Cullen, and what this trap was all about.

  When she knew more, she’d return to Leoniki, tell Ryan all about the Ancient traitor.

  One of the bodies of the dead company goons still lay on the path, clothes covered in dark patches. Keelin wasn’t sure if that was mud or blood. Didn’t matter. They were dead. And the other corpse was in the marsh, their trace hovering over the mire, dead-black.

  Keelin stretched, looked around. She focused on Peta’s trace.

  It wasn’t quite as she remembered it. But if Peta had returned to Kaiahvie, they would’ve done work on her lattice. They’d probably built stronger programming so she couldn’t turn on them. And they might’ve enhanced her in other ways.

  And what of Keelin’s other sisters? Did the company have them too?

  She followed Peta’s trace. The dampness in the air soaked into her clothes, and the vegetation underfoot pulled at her boots. She plodded on.

  The trace led out of the marsh, up to a patch of higher ground. Rain still hung like mist, and what Keelin first thought were rocky outcrops revealed themselves to be abandoned buildings, many collapsed.

  Some kind of complex, Keelin reckoned‌—‌too small to be a village, and the buildings were arranged in four short rows, with weed-strewn concrete areas at either end. Creepers and vines clung to the stonework.

  The place was a ruin, but that didn’t mean it was empty. Peta’s trace was strong here. It crossed from building to building, doubling back, clambering over collapsed walls.

  And the trace was recent. Far too recent.

  Keelin concentrated.

  Movement, to her left.

  She froze. She focused on her other senses, tracked Peta. Read the violence in her trace.

  As Peta sprinted from the closest wall, Keelin spun. Peta growled, arms extended, talons sharp.

  Peta swung. Keelin grabbed at the arm and twisted. Let go, pushed away. Spun. Peta’s boots bit into the ground as she turned to face Keelin again.

  They circled, both fight-ready.

  Keelin asked.

  Peta wore dark, figure-hugging clothing, like the old training outfits. Her head was bare, her grey hide damp, drool on her snout.

  Peta sussed.

 

  The ground was uneven, and Keelin trod with care. Peta stepped up on a low wall, and Keelin readied herself for a flying attack, but Peta stepped down, continued their dance.

 

 

  Peta’s laugh was loud, reminded Keelin of a dog’s bark.

  Peta lunged.

  She was fast. A talon grazed Keelin’s throat.

  Keelin kicked. Aimed for Peta’s knee, caught her shin.

  They circled again. First blood to Peta, but it was barely a scratch.

  Keelin sussed.

 

 

 

  Peta attacked with a lunge from her left. Keelin dodged‌—‌it was a test rather than a full-on assault. It put Keelin with her back to a wall, though‌—‌rough stonework covered in knots of greenery. She shuffled along it, arms out in readiness.

 

  Peta snorted.

  She lunged again. The attack was serious. Keelin jumped. Pain laced across her stomach. Her lattice screamed, told her there were three gouges.

  Keelin twisted, brought her arm around to deflect the next attack. Pressure on her arm as she threw Peta aside.

 

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