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Shards of Earth (The Final Architecture #1)(153)

Author:Adrian Tchaikovsky

The conference chamber was decidedly more crowded than before. The Hegemonic cult had a seat at the table, which made nobody very happy. Sathiel, in his full finery, was the only person in the room with a smile. And Solace wanted to live up to her sorority’s name and punch his teeth in.

‘Obviously,’ the hierograve was saying, ‘the Divine Essiel are far above me.’ His self-effacement was so shallow as to be two-dimensional. ‘Their will filters through to humble agents such as myself but dimly. However, their mercy and grace is without bounds. They would, I am sure, extend their protective benevolence over your Colony worlds . . . if the Council pledged unconditional fealty to the Hegemony. Perhaps a diplomatic barge could even emerge in time to consecrate Berlenhof? The Architect, though it has manifested in-system, appears to be considering the ephemeral grave of its kin before beginning its approach. We may yet have time.’

Neither Borodin nor Tact liked any of that. But the mere fact that Sathiel was here was telling. If all else fails . . .

‘So – what if they take the anti-Architect goods and then say, ‘Ho, ho, just kidding,’ when the Essiel want their back taxes?’ Olli murmured.

‘If they bow the knee,’ Trine confided to her, ‘then the Essiel would consider them part of the Hegemony, O newfound ambassadorial ward of mine. The Hegemony is of course notoriously loath to use its prodigious technological might against foreign powers. A matter of internal truculence is another matter.’

‘With all due respect,’ Borodin replied heavily, ‘we turned aside the Architects before. An Intermediary team are on their way even now.’

Solace caught Idris staring at her. His expression was unreadable but she thought she understood it, one haunted veteran to another.

‘However, the Council doesn’t wish to rely entirely on their efforts,’ Borodin continued. ‘Hugh therefore requests that the Parthenon surrenders the Originator regalia, so these can be transported planetside and installed.’

‘If you believe these precious items can be simply—’ Sathiel started, but Borodin cut him off with a sharp gesture.

‘We’ll take that chance, Hierograve. We’ve studied. We know we can’t duplicate your masters’ ability to transport the things. Yet now they’re in our hands, we believe we can use them.’

And Monitor Superior Tact said, simply, ‘But they are not in your hands.’

Borodin’s face closed up. ‘I won’t lie, I did wonder if it would come to this,’ he said tiredly. Solace had taken the man for a professional weasel but his regret seemed genuine right then. ‘However, let me at least make my government’s request. I am asking, pleading, that you hand over the regalia, so we can protect Berlenhof against the Architect. The Architect that is out there right now.’

Tact’s face was impassive, her expression revealing nothing. ‘No,’ she said, and Solace’s heart froze. This is it, then. This is how we become what they fear. She could feel the others’ eyes on her: Olli, Kris, even Kittering. It was as though she was their scapegoat, the Parthenon in miniature. She wanted to say something. She wanted to challenge her superior officer, right there. But she was a good soldier, so she stood and said nothing.

Borodin nodded, almost as blank-faced himself. ‘Monitor Tact, you know our warships the Blake and the Perihelion have arrived in-system. But we can’t afford a shooting war between Hugh and the Parthenon over Berlenhof. Certainly not now the Architect’s here; we couldn’t risk destroying the regalia. And, let’s face it, if we tried to disable your ships before you could leave, we’d take more licks than we gave. We both know that. Wouldn’t that make a fine spectacle for the Architect, when it came to make an end of us? Humans fighting humans, like gladiators, for its amusement.

‘But . . . there are over a hundred million people on Berlenhof, Monitor. Please consider that number, let it sink in. As it stands, we could only save about nought point nine of a per cent of the population. And you know what? It’s not your fault, it’s not your doing, and they’re not your people. But if you leave now, taking with you the means to save us, then you are responsible, and history will remember. The Colonies will remember, and so will every other state and power for whom such things have any meaning at all. You will be writing a terrible chapter in Sang Sian Parsefer’s legacy if you simply abandon us.’

Tact nodded. ‘And yet, we will not relinquish the regalia.’