The Octagonal Raven

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “It is a normal glider. It just has a few additions.”

  “A few? Is that how you brought it over the trees at my house?” Her thick eyebrows lifted.

  “It does have additional fuel cells, double the number of solar cells, flitter gyros, and delimiter cutouts.”

  “So it’s really a flitter posing as a glider? Like you’re an orca posing as a porpoise? A generally friendly orca, but …”

  “I think of myself more like a raven, actually, having to deal with eagles.”

  She laughed. “How about a black eagle?”

  “Large raven … if I’m lucky.”

  We moved through the three-meter-high black marble arch to the security station, where the guard in the green-trimmed gray of UniComm Security waited.

  “Daryn Alwyn. I have a meeting with Brin Drejcha.”

  “Yes, ser. He’s expecting you.” The guard looked at Majora.

  “This is Majora Hyriss. She’s my special assistant.” I smiled pleasantly.

  “Director Drejcha did not mention any others.”

  “You can contact him, but I am most certain my special assistant will be welcome.”

  “One moment, ser.” The guard retreated behind a transparent nanite sound-screen. I watched his lips.

  “… special assistant … Hyriss … woman … ser …”

  There was a pause.

  “Yes, ser.”

  The screen came down. “If you would both step through the scanner … ser, lady.”

  I let Majora go through first, then followed. Drejcha’s office was up the ramp to the left, on the same side of the courtyard garden as Gerrat’s was, and past the orchid gardens.

  “This is rather impressive, and almost all hidden away,” Majora murmured.

  “Father never believed in visible ostentation. We weren’t allowed magscooters, and when we learned to play tennis, it was at the local club.”

  Majora laughed. “Showing you and Gerrat off was a form of ostentation.”

  I frowned, but only for a moment. She was right, although I’d never thought of it in quite that way. “Maybe he didn’t believe in tasteless ostentation.” Except that wasn’t it, either.

  We passed one of the windows overlooking the inner courtyard, and, for a moment, I caught sight of our reflections — two tall muscular figures, me in dark blue with a short gray vest, and Majora in maroon and gray.

  A young man in security gray also waited outside Drejcha’s office. “Ser … he is expecting you.” He opened the door for us.

  Drejcha’s office, nearly as large as Gerrat’s, was furnished in the same style as Father’s, with a simple cherry desk, a round conference table with cherry armchairs upholstered in green, and one four-shelf cherry bookcase, filled with leatherbound volumes I would have bet that the man had never read.

  Drejcha was standing as we entered.

  “It’s good to see you, Daryn, and good to learn that you are well.” Brin Drejcha bowed slightly more than perfunctorily. He was slightly round-faced, perhaps five centimeters shorter than I, and slightly shorter than Majora. For some reason, that gratified me. He had smooth black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a warm professional smile of the type Gerrat had perfected and which I distrusted instantly.

  “It’s good to see you.”

  Majora closed the door behind us.

  Drejcha gestured to the circular conference table, around which were four chairs. Majora and I took the chairs with the view of the door.

  “You suggested that we should talk,” I began.

  “Ah … as you know … UniComm finds itself in a rather difficult position … losing the director general and the senior director.…”

  “It certainly was unexpected,” I said slowly. “And very upsetting. But UniComm was most important to Father, and he anticipated that it would always be directed by one of the family.” I looked directly at the managing director.

  Drejcha didn’t quite meet my eyes. “I’ve talked to several of the board members, and they have expressed some concern that anyone not familiar with the existing situation might find matters rather … challenging.…”

  “I would agree wholeheartedly,” I replied evenly.

  “I had thought …” He paused, almost as if realizing that what I had said was somehow not what he had expected. “Perhaps I should ask if you would clarify what you mean.”

  “It’s relatively simple, I should think. UniComm has been losing market share in the neighborhood of one percent per year for the last decade. The decline has been almost unnoticed, except when viewed over a longer perspective. The drop-off is actually greater than that, in practical terms, because AllNews has actually increased marketshare by about five percent, and with the weight behind its exposure …” I smiled, coldly. “OneCys has totally revamped its programming, and has analyzed in great detail the weaknesses of every high-revenue UniComm slot. The changes have not had that great an impact … yet … but UniComm has done very little to address the OneCys changes. Probably more important, the fringe networks have also picked up on those changes, and UniComm is losing share on the edges, with the porndraggies and the high-end dramas.” I looked at Drejcha. “Do you want me to go on? If you’d like, I can give you the OneCys analyses of every segment.” I smiled. “After all, I’m the one who did them.”

  Drejcha glanced from me to Majora. Her eyes were colder than mine. He looked back at me. “I see. I appear to have misunderstood. Indeed, you are an Alwyn. But … you still have no status within the organization.”

  I shrugged. “As I see it, there are two ways this can play out. You and I can work together, and you can appoint me acting director general until the special stakeholders’ meeting, when a motion will be put forth to install me as director general … or you can insist on running UniComm without me … until the meeting. I think you understand the implications of either scenario.”

  A rueful smile crossed Drejcha’s face.

  I didn’t trust it any more than I’d trusted the warm and welcoming one.

  “I see a great resemblance to your father. When would you like to begin as acting director general?”

  “Now’s as good a time as any.” I nodded at Majora. “Majora is the only staff person I’ll be bringing with me. She’ll be acting as my special assistant. She is a very good analyst and communicator.”

  “What sort of announcement did you plan, Director Drejcha?” Majora asked quietly.

  “Oh … I suppose we should make an announcement.”

  “Just within UniComm, I would suggest, for now,” she said politely. “And offices …?”

  “For now, I’ll use Father’s,” I said. “I’d like one for Majora that’s close to his, but don’t move anyone or talk to them until we discuss the possibilities.”

  Drejcha nodded politely, his politeness covering anger … or apprehension.

  “And you’ll ensure we’re both in the databases with full access.” I didn’t word that as a question.

  “Of course. As soon as we’re finished.” Drejcha offered his winning smile.

  “Why don’t we walk over to Father’s office?” I suggested.

  The managing director nodded, but let me lead the way along the cross corridor.

  “We’ll need to reset the access and security codes for you, Director Alwyn,” Drejcha said as we neared the unmarked closed door. Father hadn’t believed in titles on doors. He’d always felt that if you needed to be identified, you didn’t belong in UniComm.

  Maybe that was why Gerrat had adopted his fancy mist-desk, as a way of identification.

  Drejcha touched the access plate, and the security door irised into its recesses. I opened the plain wooden door behind it and stepped inside. Father’s office hadn’t changed since the last time I’d been in it, and the only difference was a short stack of papers on the corner of the polished cherry wood desk.

  “You see … just as he left it,” offered Drejcha.

  I had doubts about that, but merely nodded. “It’s
very much the way he kept it. Not much clutter.”

  I picked up the heavy vellum card from the cherry wood desk.

  Although the card looked like vellum, its surface was slightly sticky, and my fingers left the faintest set of prints. I read the wording.

  ELDYN E. NYHAL

  IS PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE

  THE FORMATION OF

  OCTAGONAL SOLUTIONS,

  A NEW APPROACH

  FOR A NEW FUTURE.

  There was an address and a call code below.

  I studied the card for a moment, noting several other sets of fingerprints on the surface of the card. Then, the reason for the stickiness hit me, and I swallowed, forcing myself to set the card on the polished wood, as if I had lost interest. Majora’s eyes flicked to the card, then to me, then away.

  She understood what I was doing — or was refraining from doing — and said nothing.

  Drejcha just stood there.

  “Brin … why don’t you get someone to take care of the details of access and security, and all that, and then rejoin us here. While I know the technical side fairly well, I don’t know all the people, and I’m sure you know all the key people well enough to brief us on them.” I offered a smile at least as false as all those he’d been giving us.

  “I can do that, Director Alwyn.”

  “We’ll be waiting for you.”

  Once Drejcha had left, I walked back to the desk where I noted the codes on Eldyn’s traitorous card and tapped them out, using the bypass and my own personal codes and charges, since I was certain it would be a while before Drejcha got around to getting all the authorizations set up.

  Instead of a sim appearing on the holo image that appeared in midair before the cherry bookcase nearest the desk, there was merely a notice, set in red against a beige background.

  As a result of recent developments, the programs and assets of Octagonal Solutions have been transferred to the EDA Trust.

  I swallowed. While I’d known from the EDA portfolio that Eldyn had operated Octagonal Solutions, I certainly hadn’t anticipated inheriting the operation, even indirectly.

  My eyes went to Majora. “I didn’t know.”

  “That’s obvious from the stunned look.” She touched my hand. “You’re going to be very busy.”

  I’d never followed up on the EDA Trust as much as I should have, either, except to ensure I controlled the Trust, but it appeared, from what little I’d researched about Eldyn, that the trust was going to play a far bigger role than I had ever thought.

  Then … everything was looking bigger than I’d ever thought.

  * * *

  Chapter 60

  Vallura

  * * *

  After I checked the security to my house, Majora and I walked up the steps from the glider hangar into the front foyer. So far as I could tell, no one had been inside, but that only meant that either experts had been there or no one.

  Majora studied the empty foyer, then stepped through the archway into the front sitting room. “Your house is more like an office, Daryn. Do you ever use this room?”

  I had to think. The last time had been when the CAs had showed up at the front door. I couldn’t remember the time before that. “Not for a while. I didn’t entertain much, not in the last few years, anyway.” I followed her.

  “This kitchen is big enough for a small hotel, and you even have gas piped in here.”

  “The architect suggested it.” I grinned at her. “It does heat up the kettle quickly.”

  “I’m glad it gets some use.”

  We went down to the study.

  Majora glanced out at the view of the East Mountains in the late afternoon sun, then at the single finch pecking to dislodge a seed from the base of the empty bird feeder. I missed the juncos, but they were strictly winter birds in Vallura.

  Finally, she glanced at me. “You spend most of your time here, don’t you?”

  “Except when I’m sleeping … well … it was that way until several months ago.”

  “I suppose you’ll go back to that.”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to read that, but I jumped in with both feet. “I’d much rather not.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m asking you to give me another chance.” I smiled wryly. “Without my mother’s prompting.”

  My words brought a headshake. “You’re almost as tactless as I am, dear man.”

  “You bring out the best — or the most honest — part of me.”

  Her gesture was not quite a dismissal. “I’ll explore, if you’ll let me, while you do whatever you have to.”

  I laughed. “There’s not much to explore. Go ahead.” That wasn’t really true. The dwelling was far larger than I’d ever need by myself, but I’d never accumulated that much in the way of personal items — the result of two decades of traveling light, I supposed, in my formative adult years.

  As Majora slipped toward the storeroom that was almost empty, I checked the messages — realizing that I hadn’t started work on Klevyl’s latest. I put in a call to him … and actually found him.

  “Daryn … are you all right? You don’t take this long, normally.”

  “I was out of touch. It’s been a hard week and then some. I’m sorry … but this time, I can’t do it.”

  “It must be something,” Klevyl said slowly.

  “It is. My father and my brother died from this latest plague, and my sister was killed in that tube crash in Westeuro.”

  The leonine-maned engineer shook his head, then said, “I am sorry. I really am.”

  “There is one other thing, Klevyl. You might get something out of it in the future, because I respect your work.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Daryn. Your work has been the best I could get.”

  “The other thing is that I’m the acting director general of UniComm.” I offered a rueful smile. “It only took enough tragedies to wipe out almost all my family.”

  “I said I was sorry … and I am, but UniComm will be better for it.”

  I appreciated his confidence. I wasn’t sure he was right. “Thank you. If we build anything, you’ll be on the bid list.”

  “You don’t have to …”

  “It’s not having to; it’s getting the best.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner, but I hope you can understand.”

  “I understand. Take care, Daryn.”

  “Thank you.” I’d always liked and respected Klevyl, and I still did.

  After clearing my throat, I put in another call to Mertyn. I didn’t have to bother. I only got the sim.

  There wasn’t much else on the gatekeeper, and I went to find Majora. She was in the unfinished bay under the great room.

  “You have enough space here for three families.” She turned. “You have that thoughtful look.”

  “I called Mertyn. His sim still answers. Would you mind if we stopped there on the way to take you home?”

  “No. I know you’ve been worried about him.”

  As we headed for the glider hangar, I reset all the security systems, recoding them, for all the good it might do.

  “After you, lady.” I beckoned for her to enter the glider, and got a smile for my over-courtly attitude.

  Again, I left my belt repeater unpowered, and the canopy closed as I guided the glider northward once more.

  Both Majora and I were uncharacteristically silent, perhaps because we both were considering all that had happened so quickly. I was also trying to figure out how to broach the idea of my staying with her on a much more permanent basis, and not just for security.

  When we got to Mertyn’s, it was clear that no one was there, and that no one had been, possibly since he had left for his wilderness excursion.

  I was appalled. The grass was matted, and the tulips and daffodils were struggling to get out from under the mulch blanket Mertyn had applied. Leaves, dust, and dirt covered the front veranda, enough that I could see bird tracks on the stones.

  I
rang the bell. Nothing happened. I also pounded on the door. No one answered.

  “Something happened to him.” That was a stupidly true statement, I realized, immediately after uttering it.

  “Wouldn’t someone notice?” asked Majora.

  “Probably not. He wasn’t married long … no children. Teaching was his life, but I was probably as close to him as anyone.” I shook my head. “We need to notify the CAs that he seems to be missing.”

  “Let’s do it from my place,” she suggested.

  “Your place?”

  “We need to stay together.”

  “I hoped you’d say that.” I couldn’t help smiling a little. “Would you mind if I spend some of my funds to improve security?”

  She shook her head. “You were waiting for that.”

  “I was trying to figure out how to say it.”

  “Separate bedrooms, Daryn. And for now, it’s because of the situation. Besides, my garden needs attention. You don’t even have one. And fewer people know where I am, and no one has seen us together.”

  “They could trace.…”

  “You’ve used my access codes, remember.” She smiled faintly. “Also, I’m closer to Kewood.”

  I shook my head. “You are persuasive.”

  “Opportunistic.”

  “I don’t think so.” She wasn’t opportunistic. I’d never met anyone less so, and in a world where everyone wanted everything, I was coming to value her more and more. “But I will bow to your common sense.” And her warmth and support, and everything else that I should have seen years earlier.

  * * *

  Chapter 61

  * * *

  The old Gael wrote about a simpler time, and even then he said that everywhere the ceremony of innocence was drowned. He didn’t say in what, but I imagine he meant blood. Today, innocence drowns before it emerges in the oceans that are the comments, linking and displaying, until all values sink in the storms of information.

  He also wrote that all the things people esteem endure but a moment or a day. He didn’t foresee the time when nothing was esteemed, only valued for its contribution to commercial or social power. More than a handful of social critics have claimed that values or excellence are merely the tools of the elite, used to reinforce the existing structure — or in the case of revolutionaries, to overthrow it.