Transformation Space - Marianne de Pierres [37]
‘Yeah,’ said Jo-Jo with feeling. ‘Now all we need is a way to get there.’
THALES
A rush of memories assailed Thales as he entered the port terminal and led the guards and Sophos Lauda to the kaffe where he’d first met Paraburd.
He explained to Lauda how the owner had become furious when he didn’t have lucre, only credit. ‘That’s how Paraburd and I made our acquaintance. I was out of cash, and he offered to pay for my drink. We got to talking. After a while he offered me a job. I saw no reason not to take the opportunity. I was desperate.’
‘Accepting a courier job from a complete stranger seems more than little naive, Msr Berniere.’
Thales flushed. ‘I know that now. But at the time I was distraught and lost. Both my marriage and my future had been derailed.’
Lauda nodded, as if vaguely satisfied. ‘And where did you go then?’
Thales walked past the kaffe and looked around. This section of Scolar’s main terminal had not seen refurbishment for some time, and the scent of fried foods mingled with mould. Thales found the door into the service ways easily enough, but then became confused. Months had passed since his brief walk through them, and so much had happened in that time.
He closed his eyes, trying to block out Lauda’s impatience and the guards’ silent scepticism. He drew the memory to the top of his consciousness by reconnecting with his feelings of betrayal and anger. Rene hadn’t stood by him, and Villon … the Sophos had taken Villon.
He remembered how grateful he’d felt towards Gutnee Paraburd, and his surprise that the warren of service corridors even existed. A lesson, perhaps, that life wasn’t always the way that it seemed, or the first blow to his naivety.
Gutnee had led him inside and turned left.
Thales began to walk that way, replaying their conversation in his mind, hearing his innocent questions and Paraburd’s slippery evasions. His foolishness embarrassed him now, and yet in another way he mourned his lost innocence.
He walked until he found himself standing in front of a featureless grime-smudged door.
‘Here, I think,’ he said.
The four Robes pushed him aside and drew weapons. They burst into the office, and their curt observations floated back out to him almost immediately. It was empty.
Thales and Sophos Lauda followed them inside.
It was the right room, Thales thought; he recognised the damp, the desk at which Paraburd’s Balol assistant had sat and the remnants of the shelves that had contained a mess of medical supplies.
Thales knelt down and retrieved the plastic end of a syringe. ‘This is it. His interior office was there.’ He pointed to the marks on the wall that showed a screen had been attached there. ‘He gave me the uniform and then took me almost straight to the ship.’
Lauda’s lip curled in disgust at both the premises and Thales’s feeble explanation. ‘You may be convinced, but I am not. Escort Msr Berniere back to detention.’
Thales’s heart sank. Mira Fedor had been right: nothing would persuade the Sophos to believe him. They were too comfortable to be aware of the insidious mediocrity creeping up on them.
As one of the Robes grasped his elbow and pulled him to his feet, Thales protested, ‘I am hardly a risk of any kind, Sophos Lauda. What is there to be gained by holding me captive?’
‘You are a dissident, Thales Berniere. That is patently apparent. You spread lies and falsehoods. You even claim that Villon was murdered by the Sophos—’
‘Not all the Sophos! I think that Mianos—’
‘And now these wild accusations of biological warfare being waged on Scolar. What is not apparent is for whom you are working. Is it the warmonger Lasper Farr? Or even the Post-Species that you pretend to abhor? Who pays you to cause dissent on our peaceful world?’
Thales mouth fell open. ‘Who pays me? I could well ask the question of you, Sophos Lauda.’
Lauda flushed. ‘Take him back.