Juanita Coulson - Children of the Stars 04

by Past of Forever

  Flustered, the news hound who’d posed that question backed away, mumbling. Other reporters snickered. As they did one of their, group, a bright-eyed woman, darted forward speaking to Dan. “Rei Ito, Pan Terran S-ME News. I’m sure you’ve seen my big sister on our net’s scandal channel. She’s practically part of your family...”

  He was acutely aware of the scrutiny of her lens pendant. “Uh... yes. My sister mentioned that Miwa is engaged to Cam Saunder.”

  Ito’s competitors glared, resenting her trading on her tenuous link with the famous dynasty. She ignored them, boring in on Dan. “I hope that makes us a bit closer. Perhaps you could clarify a few bio items for me? I’m informed that you are Dr. luxury’s xenomechanician. What is that? Could you elaborate? Where does one train for it?”

  For a second, panic knotted Dan’s gut. He’d been afraid of this. Then, calling on resources he didn’t know he had, he resumed his Saunder-McKelvey princeling stance. “Oh, like most of us—our family, I mean—I was tutored. As for being a xeno-mech, I’ve always been interested in inventions, power systems, ways to harness energy. You know the sort of thing. I guess I inherited Ward Saunder’s knack, and maybe just a little from Morgan McKelvey.”

  The magic names. Alien and Terran listeners were awed. There was a cynical glint in Ito’s eyes, but to Dan’s relief, she didn’t press him. Was she restraining her reporter’s killer instinct for the sake of about-to-be family ties? Did she know his background and that his tutoring had ended when he was twelve? Ito didn’t say. It was as if her queries had been a stunt to call attention to herself, not Dan’s failings.

  Breathing easier, he said, “When Dr. luxury offered me the chance to analyze certain alien devices he’d found on T-W 593, well, I couldn’t turn him down.”

  “But how did you happen to be on that planet?” someone demanded.

  Ito drowned him out and elbowed him aside. “That’s very informative, Dan. Thank you! I’m sure we’ll be hearing great things later in the Assembly from you and Dr. Juxury and your colleagues...”

  He seized the opening gratefully. “Oh, yes. Dr. luxury’s made some amazing breakthroughs...”

  Media focus swung back to Praedar. Behind the Whimed’s back Joe winked at Dan and Kat gave him a thumb-and-forefin-ger ‘okay.’ Praedar handled the demands for details with aplomb and a relaxed crest, very much in control. He offered plenty of quotable copy to mollify the news hounds. His linguistic skills and quick adaptability to other species’ customs, together with his height and presence, added up to a striking charisma. Praedar would have made a felinoid version of a top Saunder-McKelvey politician or actor.

  He wasn’t the only expert at the cult of personality. A Rigo-tian scientist held a crowd, and so did Armilly’s aunt. Several other xenoarch “stars” commanded large audiences, as well. The less glib, less confident, and less accomplished circled them in outer orbit, like skimmer sleds around major space stations.

  Dan got only brief glimpses of Anelen and Jon Eckard, the team’s all-important sponsors. Anelen tended to stick with other Whimeds. He was hawk-faced and a lot more daunting in person than in his holo-mode. Eckard was touching base with a number of people, glad handling, chatting, never staying long in one spot. Dan’s sole exchange with him was of the ‘Hello, glad to see you, good-bye’ variety.

  Nearly all of the Assembly’s registered attendees were present by now. Lighting dimmed, then brightened directly above a portable dais in the center of the auditorium. Feo and Hope Saunder stood on the platform, surrounded by flunkeys and aides, Greg Tavares among them. The dais revolved slowly, allowing the Saunders to face in turn every part of the large room. Translation devices were busy. Life-size monitors projected the Assembly hosts’ images on the walls, so that no one could possibly miss their opening speeches.

  Hope punctuated her welcome with smiling pauses. “As humanity has reached out into space, extending the hand of friendship to our galactic neighbors, so we greet you, our fellow searchers of the past. We are here to serve, to make this, the Twelfth Xenoarchaeological Assembly, the best ever. It is in the proud tradition of our family and of our species. Let us all be, for these few days, a larger family, one united not by blood and race, but by unity of purpose...

  Her delivery was excellent, Dan conceded, not as persuasive as Praedar’s, but not bad. It was what he would have expected from Hope Belvedere Saunder. Her breeding and background were almost as royal as Feo’s, though her personal fortune was much smaller.

  When she finished, Feo took over, giving their guests more of the same, and at too great a length. He wasn’t an orator. Some highly paid voice coach had taught him to project and develop all the right phrasing. However, Feo lacked the essential fire that held his listeners and he definitely didn’t know when to quit. Several times Hope muttered wifely advice, plainly telling him to wrap it up. Either he didn’t hear her or was too pleased with the sound of his voice to yield the floor.

  The audience fidgeted. Some aliens switched channels on (heir transbuttons, effectively tuning Feo out. Terrans whispered, carrying on conversations even though their host wasn’t through speaking.

  At last, Feo noticed what was happening and hastily concluded, “... And so, my dear friends and colleagues, we shall conduct our business here in the true amity of science. Amity! And a sincere reverence for knowledge. I thank you!”

  Greg Tavares led the applause. Saunder staffers tried to make up for a lack of enthusiasm in some parts of the room.

  Dan was gratified by what he’d witnessed. Feo’s money gave him clout, but it couldn’t buy him absolute, fawning adoration, at least not in this arena!

  The Saunders stepped off the dais and it swirled away into storage. With Tavares at their tails, followed by flunkeys and reporters, Feo and Hope began to tour the refreshment islands and press the flesh with their guests. They stopped frequently, posing for the news hounds. The whole thing smacked of a media session.

  But as the pair approached Praedar’s team, their tactics changed. The flunkeys fanned out, surrounding their bosses and the Whimed’s party, forming a living barricade. Other scientists and the media were shut outside that circle. The reporters grumbled loudly. Rei Ito seemed less upset than the rest. She leaned forward and peered within the island. Dan saw that Ito’s lens pendant was top quality. She had it set on peak resolution and supersnoop. The Saunders thought they had shut out unwanted observers, but Ito could capture every nuance of their expressions and every faint comment for later playback.

  “Juxury!” Feo said with enthusiasm. “I wanted to tell you in private how pleased I am that you’re here. I trust your rooms are satisfactory? And your specimens and exhibits? All installed properly? No damages?”

  Praedar nodded curtly, his unblinking stare raking the Saunders and Tavares. “Sufficient. The rooms are excessive.” “Nothing but the best,” Feo said. “Enjoy it! We want you to enjoy a few luxuries while you’re our guests.”

  Hope added, “Indeed! As Bill Getz is fond of saying, it’s not necessary for scientists to suffer in order to achieve their goals.” “Not everyone agrees with that,” Kat said, her eyes narrowed. Feo shooed away imaginary gnats. “This world, this Assembly complex will be a haven for thought. Teams like yours are forced to operate in such appalling conditions. Have you never considered that working under that sort of pressure may affect your selectivity? It’s bound to. Enervating climate, outdated equipment, and even death, as . ..” His wife jammed an elbow hard into his side and Feo coughed, startled. But he did take the hint and dropped what he’d obviously been about to say about Chen. “It’s understandable how primitive settings would distort data and create unfounded doubts. One wants to blame someone for the misfortunes. Quite natural. But to imply, as you have, my friend, that other expeditions might stoop to sabotage. . . really!” “Explanations?” Praedar said flatly. “Alternate answers?”

  Hope stiffened. “You ... you actually believe . ..?”

  Kat cut in, “Who would have
anything to gain by delaying our work or preventing our attending this conference? And so much to gain! It does look questionable, and not only to us.” She glanced at the media, and for the first time the Saunders became aware of Ito’s merciless scrutiny, in particular.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Feo protested. “We hadn’t heard a thing about this ... what was it?... missing machinery? Or this business of transport difficulties...”

  “Did you not?” Praedar stared at Tavares, and the redhead took an involuntary step backward. Dan suppressed a grin. The Whimed went on in a deceptively soft manner. “Do you speak for all your staff, Feo?”

  The Saunders regarded their protege. The assessment took mere seconds. Hope said, “We assure you that if there is any basis whatsoever to your suspicions, the matter will be tended to.”

  Tavares, recovering, parroted his superiors. “That’s right! We’ll prove we had nothing to do with this so-called sabotage!” Again, more surreptitiously, the Saunders traded looks.

  Dan almost pitied Tavares. But the blacklist—and near certain knowledge of what had put him there—tempered his sympathy. He saw the redhead with clear-eyed detachment.

  You fool! They’re going to jettison you at the first sign that what you did might rub off on them. Some Saunder-McKelveys are dog-loyal to their people. I think you’ve linked up with the other kind. It won’t matter to Feo and Hope how much you’ve helped them or how much prestige your published works have brought to their dig. If they need a scapegoat, they’ll dump you so fast you’ll feel you’re in FTL without a spaceship.

  Too bad for Tavares. Dan suspected the man didn’t deserve all the blame. He might simply have been guilty of being overeager to please. Perhaps he’d overheard the Saunders expressing the equivalent of “Will no one rid us of this troublesome Dr. luxury?” They’d planted the seed, let their protege take the risks, and kept their own hands clean. Tavares thought he was carrying out their wishes and that they’d back him if he got caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

  Fat chance!

  Tavares didn’t grasp the subtle shift in the situation. He continued to fawn on his mentors, supporting their every word.

  While Hope chatted with Praedar’s team and Tavares, Feo suddenly threw an arm over Dan’s shoulder and steered the younger man a few paces away from the others. Lowering his voice, Feo said, “I need to speak to you alone. No, please. Hear me out. You owe me that much, for family’s sake.” After a hesitation, Dan nodded grudgingly. “Good! Hope and I wish you’d let us know earlier that you were interested in xenoarchaeology. We could help you tremendously, Danny. It’s not too late. You’re more than welcome here. Why don’t you join our team? Hmm?” “Anticipating an opening on your staff in the near future?”

  Feo frowned at that oblique reference to Tavares. “You’re family. You belong with us. We Saunder-McKelveys must stick together, as we always have. Hmm? Hmm? We’re winners. And I hate to see you harnessed with a failure like luxury.” He shut off Dan’s annoyed protests with a silencing upheld hand. “Not to take anything away from him. luxury’s a fine scientist. But his selectivity? Woefully flawed, I fear. His sentimental attachment to those subhumanoids further complicates the problem. One can’t fault him for his idealism, even if it does affect his judgment. Sooner or later—maybe at this conference—his theories will come crashing down in ruins. And the collapse is likely to bury his hard-working junior colleagues, as well. A pity. Don’t let yourself be trapped in that debacle, Danny.”

  “History may record a different outcome on whose theories are flawed,” Dan said with heat.

  His cousin’s fingers dug painfully into his arm. “Softly!” Feo smiled at curious onlookers, then spoke in Dan’s ear. “This is just between you and me, my boy. No need to share our family discussions with that mob.” He was patiently solicitous. “Of course you feel obligated to defend .luxury. He is a mesmerizer. But be practical. Think! Hope and I hate to see you on the enemy team, so to phrase it. After all, we could do so much for you that he can’t...” Feo continued to grip Dan’s arm, veiled menace in his eyes.

  Alarms jangled along Dan’s nerve endings. Feo had massive resources. He could dig up kilotons of ammo against a rival—or against a stubborn young relative. How much did Saunder know? And how much was he willing to reveal to the media if Dan refused to cooperate? Dan’s lack of a degree? The faked ownership arrangement of the starhopper? The nastier members of the Saunder-McKelvey clan were quite capable of figuratively cutting a kinsman’s throat, if they wanted to.

  A buttery grin creased Feo’s homely face. “You needn’t make up your mind this very moment, Danny. I merely wanted to spell things out for you. Sleep on my offer. Consider it. Won’t you?” Decades of resentment overcame prudence. Dan blurted, “I see. Charity, huh? For the poor cousin. Funny. You could have done the same for my father, when he needed help bad. Instead, you and Aunt Varenka and the other family snobs turned your backs and let him drown.”

  Feo’s expression was ruefully tolerant. “Is that what he told you? Is that what Reid honestly believes? How sad! Myth making on a personal scale. I’ve dealt with cultural versions of the same phenomenon—-actual events blurring and being reversed to fit the desperate emotional needs of a people. Or of a person.” The scientist’s sorrow seemed genuine. He released Dan’s arm and pressed the younger man’s shoulder gently. “Reid never asked me for money, Danny. Never. Not any of us. We urged him to take a loan. Again and again. We wanted to help. Spirit of Humanity, he’s a McKelvey. How could we not want to help a kinsman? But he was adamant. Turned all of us down. No favors, he said. He’d make it on his own, somehow. And you saw where that got him, you and him and your lovely mother. It sounds as if he’s convinced himself—and you—that the sole cause of his bankruptcy was our rejection of him. He probably has to think that way, to save his sanity and pride.”

  Dan was stunned. He clenched his jaw, afraid of saying anything and giving Feo yet another weapon to hit him with.

  “So sad! In a way, Reid’s a practitioner of faulty selectivity. He’s blinded himself to the facts, just as luxury has. You were only a child when your father formed those warped ideas of reality, my boy. You had no control over your destiny. Now you do.

  Don’t make the same mistake Reid did. Remember what I’ve said. Hope and I would welcome you with open arms.”

  With that, he stepped back into the main conversational circle, picking up the thread there smoothly. It took Dan much longer to pull himself together enough to imitate his cousin’s action. He drifted to the fringe of the group, listening, contributing nothing, his brain still reeling from Feo’s assault.

  Finally the Saunders said their good-byes and moved on to another expedition’s island. Their flunkeys parted the reporters and Feo and Hope swept away. After they and their entourage had left, Dan’s teammates regarded him wonderingly. But none of them pried.

  Someone else was studying him, too. Rei Ito, the news hound from Pan Terran S-ME Net. She lingered behind the army of media following the Saunders. Her pert, Oriental features were unreadable. Ito touched her capture-all pendant, a tacit reminder that she’d been witness to everything he and Feo had said. A hint of a smile pulled at her mouth. Then Ito wheeled and vanished into the milling crowd.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Factions

  Dan parked the scooter, jumped from its protective bubble, and ran toward his assigned housing unit. Predawn rain drenched him before he reached the lobby. He stood inside the door, stripping off his sodden poncho. Through the window wall he saw a steady stream of Whimeds and Lannon crossing the sky walks. Those races had been in session since last night’s opening ceremony. Now lights were coming on in other species’ quarters as they woke and prepared for the first full day of Assembly.

  After tossing the poncho in a recycler, Dan caught a people lifter to the second level. Earlier risers were congregating in the corridors. Slugabeds’ rooms’ info panels bore “Do Not Disturb” notices. The atmosphere wa
s an odd mixture of think-tank dorm and a prosperous Settlement’s best public inn.

  Dan tiptoed into his expedition’s dimly lit suite. Praedar, no doubt, was still caucusing with his fellow Whimeds. Ruieb-An’s roomlet and those of Joe and Getz were shut; apparently they were sacking in. Kat, however, was awake. She was sitting in the window alcove. Dan perched beside her and said, “Good morning. Sort of. Want a weather report?”

  She snuggled deeper into her robe. “Not necessary. Praedar, Joe, and I visited here a few years ago. I know what the climate is like.” Kat rested her forehead on the glass and traced a raindrop’s track with her fingers. “These downpours seem as extravagantly wasteful to me as this posh suite. But that’s because I was raised on Mars. Sheila says that’s why I don’t get fed up working in T-W 593’s desert environment.”

  “Does she?” Dan asked.

  “Not really. Sheila simply enjoys griping.” Kat regarded him curiously. “Where have you been?”

  “At the Port. Checking the ship. She’s okay, so far.”

  “You’re still worried about repossession?”

  “Damned right.” Dan heaved a sigh. “All I can do is lock her, check her frequently, and keep my fingers crossed.” He yawned and stretched, then added, “We might get help from an unexpected source.” Kat raised an inquiring eyebrow, waiting impatiently. “The Port manager beat around the circle awhile and finally got to the point. He wanted to know if I’m related to the Fleet’s ‘Iron Fist.’ What a joke! Adam hates that title the media hung on him.”