by Pam Uphoff
"Her screen has an almost subliminal pattern over it, of the layer that is being deposited on the base wafers in the vat. A thousand at a time."
"So . . .it's subconscious?"
"It can be, with sufficient experience. Of course, they have to focus. It can be eerie, sometimes. They don't see what's going on around them, when they're working."
She watched in silence, for a moment. "It's odd, though, that as much as the early descendants of the Prophets married into the general population, that we still think of ourselves as their descendants, not the descendants of the other ninety percent of our ancestors."
"But we deliberately interbred, and concentrated the Prophets' genes."
Rael shrugged. "We concentrated the six chromosome pairs that have the genetic insertions. And the X chromosome with the power gene, of course. The other sixteen chromosome pairs? Who cares? And so we are almost . . . Native."
Epru stiffened. "The Multitude were civilized. They'd evolved though agriculture, become creatures of the industrial age and then the nuclear age. Unlike Natives, who are mostly stone age barbarians."
Rael shook her head. "Homestead was well into the industrial age, with steam engines and electricity. Vista had agriculture. I'll give you the rest are pretty close to barbarian."
She caught his slight smile out of the corner of her eye.
"Including Target Forty-two?"
She refused to react to that. "Umm, I was thinking Colonies. Forty-two is mostly medieval level. A few signs of early industrial here and there. But . . . well some oddities that are under investigation, and about which I really can't talk."
"Pity, everyone speculates about their magic. And such a fascinating man, Dewulfe. But I suppose you knew him well."
Rael laughed at that. "I'm afraid not. He was either brave or foolhardy, to infiltrate at that level. He absolutely did not open up and get involved with any of us." She grinned, and shrugged. "Not that we didn't try to seduce him. But when he couldn't see a political gain, he was . . . wary. I can't believe we didn't catch on."
"Really? When did you find out? How did he slip?"
Rael snorted. "We were so busy wondering if he was spying for the War Party, or maybe the Isolationists, or could he be from one of the smaller parties? Surely not from the One! He was very definitely not a Priest! Military Intel? Possibly Exterior Relations? One knows Director Agni was being a complete ass. I didn't know, myself, until I regained consciousness in the hospital. I gather that the suspicion that he might, somehow, be from Forty-two had only started two days before the assassination. All based on his apparent motives, and confirmed with DNA comparisons."
"But how . . . "
"Did he get here?" Rael nodded. "Had to have been placed by Earth. But once he was off their leash . . . he acted to stop his own world from being crushed in between the two empires." She made sure that felt like the truth, if he was trying to read her glow.
"Hmm. I hadn't thought of it that way."
Rael sighed. "I hate being out of the loop. Everything I know is a year out of date." She let that one feel like exaggeration. Not exactly lying, but . . .
He stepped into an alcove. A break room. He reached for two mugs on a shelf. "Coffee? Tea?"
Rael glanced at the carafe; nearly full, it probably wasn't burned. "Coffee." Although flavor isn't what I should worry about, is it?
He poured and handed her the cup. "There's sugar and . . . " he broke off at her shaken head.
She took the cup, tempted, thirsty after the morning's run. I didn't see him put anything in the coffee, but . . . maybe it would be wise to not actually drink it. Actinicide is very difficult to reverse.
"Come and see the next steps. It's a cycle, with the different vats at different stages of the chip deposition. Mayg's was just started, so the basic copper circuits are depositing. Here we've got a tub in the second layer, insulating certain areas, then it switches over here, where another circuit layer . . . oh, here's one that just finished. The whole array lifts out and is carried on the overhead lines to testing . . . "
The man by the vat stretched, and walked off, not giving them a glance.
"Each vat has a different chemical makeup." He waved overhead. "We suck the air into a massive filtration system, but only two vats are actually toxic." He nodded to a glassed in section. "But the air pollution control are strict. Pity. I always like the distinct odors some of the constituents have."
He slid back a lid and sniffed deeply at one.
Rael was more cautious. "Smells fruity."
"Yes, and this one is closer to chicken soup, honestly, you'd think we were a restaurant."
Rael grinned. "No, a restaurant would release the odors, as advertising."
Epru was certainly enthusiastic. He showed her everything from bulk supplies to packing and shipping the final products.
She spotted Towel . . . what was that woman's name? Apparently she was in charge of the shipping department.
But it wasn't until Rael heard herself giggling over singing shipping labels that it occurred to her that the coffee wasn't the only thing that could have been drugged. The air? Surely not the smelly vats, they'd never get anything done around here.
She uncurled her fingers, the coffee cup sagging spilling . . . nothing obvious on her hand. Apart from the bugs fleeing the coffee cup and crawling all over her hand, scratching and scampering.
Hallucinogen of some sort. If it was real, I wouldn't feel the bugs on most of my hand. Her mind wallowed off after a shadow on the wall and returned, utterly blank of ideas to counteract even the common . . . something about serotonin receptors, right? And dimethoxy more methyl-something with numbers and such. And the antidote . . . a spell, to break something . . . hopefully not common and necessary to the body . . . there had been this whole lecture series . . . Her brain was flowing like tar, slow and accomplishing nothing . . . Her whole body felt like tar, so slow. So it was easy to stop and watch.
They were packing the chips in padded packing material. The quilted cushions seemed to be getting some extra padding that certainly did look a lot like little blue lozenges. Of course the wrappers probably did not have lips and were not actually swallowing the pills . . .
It all felt like a dream. Dream. I think I've found Ahxe's drug exporter.
"So, Princess Rael. Tell me all about the investigation into Ogto's murder." Epru smiled, a big clown smile.
"Be careful." The woman sounded worried. "The first stage is going to wear off really soon."
Rael giggled and laughed while they tied her up. And chatted about the investigation into Ogto's murder. "So funny! At least three people tried to kill him. A blackmailer! Too damn funny!" She turned her head to watch a dancing mouse in a pink tutu dart from under Epru's desk to a dark corner. "You know, Epie baby, you ought to put out traps! Can't have mice running around a pharmaceutical lab . . . Hey I got it!" She started to fall out of the chair. The ropes stopped her, but the chair turned blue and tipped.
Epie jumped and caught it, shoved her upright.
"Thank You!" She beamed at him. Rolled her shoulders. "Not as slow, it must be starting to wear off. Oops, did I say that out loud?"
"Yes the first stage is very uninhibiting. Pity the body doesn't want to do anything. That's about to end, but that's not actually good news."
"It's magic, isn't it? You use magic to make Dream, don't you? And you aren't terribly careful about contamination, are you? It's in the air. Do you have a counter agent?"
"Not as such. One builds up immunity gradually. And it oxidizes quickly, two minutes outside and there isn't even much residue on clothing. And of course we've got a soap formula that takes it off the face and hands, and of course we wash the 'clean room' gear daily."
Ah, the overalls and the foot and hair things . . . funny hats.
And Epie's is even funnier. Just like an ax buried in his head. She recoiled as blood started dripping down his forehead. "Eww! Epie! You've cut yourself with your ax! I mean, your
hat." The blood leaped across the space between them and started soaking through her skin, burning her right breast like acid. She screamed. "Wipe it off, wipe it off! Wash it, wash it, fast, fast! Lots of water!"
"We'll take you to the ocean, the sea water will neutralize it." Epru was laughing, why didn't he feel the burning blood dripping down his face? Into his eyes.
"Wipe it off!"
But the towel the Towel woman brought went over Rael's mouth, covered her whole lower face.
"Excellent! Even the psychosis is a good one."
Towel, Taul, towel . . . oh yes, that's what her name is. The friend, not the jealous ex-wife. Who knew about the encounter with Ogto so quickly. Oops, we were looking at the wrong bitch! She was there because of me, listening in on Kitchen flubbing his lines. Rael almost giggled, then the burning pain began again. She started crying, trying to beg them to wash it off. I'm already so scarred, don't make it worse! Wash it off. Nothing but a moan came through the towel.
And a finger, shoving a little something into her mouth.
More Dream.
She couldn't spit; tried to tongue it out of her mouth.
It's made from heroin, I know a spell for opiates . . . I think . . . what was it?
Chair and all, she was lifted and carried through the shipping room. Nobody working, must be on strike, or maybe gone to lunch . . . Nobody's going to help me.
She was cut loose. She lurched out of the chair, hands coming around to strike . . . a blanket. She was rolled into a blanket, head covered, arms wrapped tight, her feet . . . by the time she figured out her feet were loose, they were wrapped as well.
My feet are burning! Epru dripped blood on my feet! Cut them off, quick! Hurry, hurry!
Vertigo hit. Falling! No, I'm flying, I'm flying to the sea to wash off the acid blood! An ocean of water to save me!
She thumped down on something that gave slightly, a door slammed, no, the trunk of a car. Haven't I already done this? But it's just four blocks to the ocean, the water, I need the water . . . I need the spell to break down opiates. She rolled as the car jerked into motion, cornered, sped up, turned, stopped, sped, turned, picked up speed . . . She whimpered. Why aren't we stopping? We must be there by now, and I'm afraid of the things that are in the trunk with me! The spare tire is breathing and the jack, I can see it, lifting and falling. It wants to eat my fingers!
No. Picture the chemical chain, there were linked carbon rings.
Rings! It'll eat my fingers! I hear it coming!
Cyanide in it. Carbon triple linked to nitrogen, I can break it down, picture it just in my bloodstream, spinning free, not in any cells, break that triple bond . . . break my fingers! It's probably already gotten my right hand! I can't feel . . . break the bond, One dammit!
Why are we still driving ! I need to get to the ocean, wash in the ocean then I can break the bonds, the chemical bonds, the blanket bonds . . . Break the blanket bonds!
Her mind snapped out a vicious slice.
The car jolted, bucked. She was thrown, metal shrieked. She spun, rolled. The blanket peeled away, she rolled on the ground. Stopped.
Still hallucinating. It looked like the car had fallen to bits. Acid blood everywhere, eating away at the metal, the remains of the . . . people. She crouched trying to think. She could hear the ping of hot metal, smell gasoline . . . hear the sound of waves.
"Water! Water!" she crawled to the seawall. No boardwalk, here. They were too far north, no one came here.
Except to dump princesses in the ocean.
I need to wash, I need to wash.
No, I need to not drown.
She was still clinging grimly to the edge of the sea wall when the emergency vehicles arrived.
And the police, a heartbeat after the fire truck.
"Puppy? Please handcuff my hands behind my back and then handcuff me to something I can't move, and keep everyone at least ten meters away. I have been dosed with Dream, and I'm periodically hallucinating . . . and I am very, very dangerous."
She only ruined one police car. Never made it to the ocean. The nice little bunny rabbits with the ambulance made it all go away.
Chapter Twenty-five
Wednesday, 2 Rabi 1398
"I just wanted to clear up a few things." Ox studied the mayor.
Sweating, tense, desperate?
The mayor's eyes drifted to the side.
Ox turned enough to get a better look at the woman sitting at the conference table. Beautiful in a well-kept way that hinted at an age past the century mark. Cold pale blue eyes. Looking him over and judging him. By what standard he wasn't sure.
Eglo made a weak attempt to smile. "My new Princess." His gaze sheared away from the woman. "Damn it all, I had that idiot Bunny under control. Then that ugly crip with the infuriating giggle showed up and next thing you know . . . " he was gripping the edge of his desk, clearly terrified.
The woman gave him a cold smile and turned her attention back to the mini comp on the table.
I didn't expect this! But I'm definitely going to use it. "I was just wondering what Ogto had on you. What you were paying him to not reveal. Something to do with our local Dream problem, perhaps? You and your friend Epru. Such a shocking end for the man. And the records he kept . . ."
"What? Are you saying Epru's dead!" He sat back, blinking rapidly. "What happened? What . . ." He visibly got a grip on himself. "Epru's a businessman, well respected."
"Manufacturing Dream. Pity he tried to get rid of a trained Princess. Well, it was a quick, merciful death."
Mayor Eglo gave him a glassy eyed stare. "I'm afraid I have no idea . . . " he gulped, and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "I'm afraid to eat or drink anything she's been near. You know what they say about Princesses."
Ox smiled. "Indeed. After Ogto collapsed, it was all anyone had to say about it. Almost like some people kept saying the same thing over and over and people started believing it. Repeating it themselves." He glanced at the chilly princess. "Well, nice seeing you again. Gotta go."
The mayor whimpered. "Wait, wait . . . I need to . . . It was all Irqy's fault . . . "
Ox smiled. I love the smell of a criminal conspiracy falling apart. "Why don't we discuss this down at the Enclave headquarters."
***
The Chief cleared his throat. "I think you'll find the data on the mayor has been fabricated. He could not possibly be associated with drugs, and keep that from me."
"No, he couldn't, could he?" Ox paused. "Ogto also had data on a numbered account on Rocky Coast. Interesting money trail, on that one. And several other people. Bank security people. Customs officials . . . People Itsu had dirt on, and kept in files that Ogto slashed. And then Mayor Eglo." Ox shook his head. "It's going to get nasty. Even retiring isn't going to do anyone any good." He looked at his notes. "So far we have thirty-two people who had cause to want Ogto dead. I think he received at least three lethal doses of actinicide, not to mention the car. The driver's employer was one of Ogto's victims."
The chief said nothing.
Ox slid everything back into his briefcase. Sighed. And pulled out the warrant.
"Chief, you're under arrest. You are charged with—so far—five counts of removing controlled substances from police custody. One count of attempted murder. One count of assaulting a police officer. One count of grand theft, auto."
"What?"
"The evidence van."
Irqy's eyes narrowed. "Oh? And I suppose you think you can arrest Mayor Eglo, as well?"
"Already have."
***
And Uzke, the man in the little gray car, who travelled frequently between Montevideo and Paris, accompanying a Councilman, his luggage given a pass . . .
There were no grounds for a search warrant. One man in a group of others? Hanging toward the back and pacing was hardly an indication of guilt, and he'd left before the death.
His official address led them to a nice townhouse in a nice part of Montevideo. Third unit in the row.
No one home. Ox cruised the alley with the garage entrances behind each home. A large black car pulled into the third garage, and Ox halted behind it.
No small grey car. This is going to be a tough nut to crack.
Uzke emerged. Good looking, confident. A former district councilman, an Imperial Councilman's aide.
"Good afternoon. I'm Senior Investigator Ahse . . . "
"Yes, we spoke on the phone. You have more questions? I'm afraid I didn't see what happened." He leaned at his ease on the car. "My car came, I left. As I pulled around, out of the driveway, there was a commotion. I stopped and opened the car window and overheard everyone. About half of them thought a man had had a heart attack, the other half thought he'd been hit by a car. There was quite a bit of screeching and then it started getting really quiet. I . . . didn't see that I could do anything but increase the gawping crowd, and get in the way of the medics, so I left."
Ox snorted. "Indeed. Thank you for your time, sir." He slouched back to his car. Looked back at the closing garage door. The light gleamed off the chrome on the rear . . . a dealership icon . . .
So was the boy wrong about which car was Uzke's? Or did he borrow or rent a small grey car? Why? Premeditation, or pure serendipity? And it was really unimportant. So, red herring or something to work on? He put his car in gear and drove off. Out of the upscale residential area, and onto a busy street full of small businesses . . . and a dealership with a familiar icon.
He had his driver pull off the street, and park between the new and used cars. Two year old Apico, grey. Not here.
A salesman closed in. "Help you find something?"
"Oh, I'm looking for . . . " Oh hell, think up a story, quick. "a car for my son. Small, underpowered. Teenagers, you know? I was thinking, a couple of years old, maybe an Apico . . . like Ruskie was driving a couple of weeks ago."
"Apico . . . One! They didn't give Ruskie an Apico for a loaner! He's a regular customer, new car every year . . . Let me check . . . " He pulled out his comm and tapped in numbers. "Enrico, you still got that little Apico loaner car? I got a guy interested in something like that . . . Right, I'll come get it." He flashed a smile at Ox. "It's in the back, needs to be cleaned up, but I can show it to you. Be right back."
