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Surface Detail(229)

By:Iain M. Banks


They crossed the circle of satellite plinths, where once domes had stood and now prone, stippled, phased array plates lay, processing the comms which linked the house and all that had been around it to the the rest of the world, the Enablement and everything beyond.

Part of himself, Veppers realised, wanted to call a halt now; enough damage had been done, the trackways and the substrates they had hidden were gone or going. The comms didn’t matter without what they had to communicate. The Hells were erased, or so reduced they weren’t worthy of the name any more.

But he knew that what had happened so far wouldn’t be enough. It was all about perception. When the smoke cleared, figuratively as well as literally, he needed to look like the victim here. It wouldn’t seem that way if the house got away unscathed and only the lands about it were hit. Some landscaping, bit of decontamination and then copious tree-planting; who’d give him any sympathy just for that?

“Still,” Jasken said as they passed above game courts, lawns and the corner of the great maze – all mostly dark, lit only by a few bright embers that had drifted in from the burning lands all around

– “they might have expected a little more, sir.” Another glance. “The people, I mean, sir. Your people. They’ve given—”

“Yes, my people, Jasken,” Veppers said, watching as the flier’s landing legs deployed and the craft floated down through darkness, fire and confusion towards the flame-lit torus of Espersium house. “Who like you have always been well paid and looked after and known the kind of man I am.”

“Yes, sir.”

He watched Jasken as they passed over the roofs of the mansion. The cladding was dotted with scattered bits of flaming twigs and small branches which a few of the staff were running around trying to put out. Rather pointless, Veppers thought; the roof was fire-proof. Still, people needed to do something, he supposed.

The flier poised, ready to drop into the central courtyard of the house. “There isn’t anyone special to you that I don’t know about here, is there, Jasken?” Veppers asked. “On the estate, I mean. You’ve hidden it very well if there is.”

“No, sir,” Jasken said, as the flier descended into the empty heart of the torus-shaped building. “No one special.”

“Well, that’s as well.” Veppers glanced at the antique watch as the skids touched the flagstones of the courtyard and the craft settled. “We need to be back aboard in twenty-five minutes.” He pushed the seat restraints aside and stood. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll stay with you if you want,” Demeisen said.

“I don’t want,” Lededje told him. “Just go.”

“Right. Guess I’d better. Stuff to shoot.”

Ambassador Huen held up one hand. “Wait; you don’t think we need any extra protection when that second wave comes through?” she asked, looking sceptical.

“I – another bit of me – might have run them all down before they can get here,” Demeisen said. “I strongly suspect I’ll account for a few myself in passing on the way back to the main event out at Tsung. Plus the Inner System and Planetary boys will be better prepared and have longer this time; this lot look like they’re preparing to crash-stop. Which also implies greater accuracy from them. Should be safe enough.” He nodded towards the city, where a little smoke was drifting, lessening all the time, from the summits of some of the towers and skyscrapers. “Last resort, that’s what your glitterage is for.” He looked quizzically at the ambassador, performed a curtsy. “By your leave, ma’am.”

Huen nodded. “Thank you.”

“Pleasure.” Demeisen turned grinning to Lededje. He winked at her. “You’ll get over it.”

Then he was a silvery ovoid stood on its end. It vanished with a faint popping noise.

Lededje felt herself let out a breath.

Huen looked at the drone Olfes-Hresh, then closed her eyes for a moment as though tired. “Ah,” she said. “Finally we get the official version.” She looked at Lededje. “I’m told you are indeed Ms. Y’breq. In that case, I am glad to see you again, Lededje, though, given the circumstances of your death—”

“Murder,” Lededje said, standing and going to the window looking over the park to the city, her back to the other woman and the drone floating at the ambassador’s shoulder. Beyond the city, in the dimming evening light, more flashes lit up distant dark clouds that had not been there before.

“Murder, then,” Huen said. “The rest of what Demeisen alleged …”