Jim Baen’s Universe
Page 20
Good; the security we found here might be all we had to worry about.
The air was cooling as night approached, but Eddy was still warm enough that the slight breeze from the ocean felt fine against my skin. I’d stood in one place longer than I felt a normal tourist would, so I walked slowly toward the building.
“One data point you might find useful,” Lobo said, “is that in the last fifteen minutes over two dozen humans have entered the building on the far side and twenty have left.”
“Shift change. How many look like security?”
“All were wearing comm links, so that’s impossible to gauge. Based on the building’s total lack of visible external sensors or weapons, however, I suggest we assume most are hostiles.”
“Even if they’re all security, they’re not hostiles,” I said. “At least not yet. They become problems only if Dougat chooses not to play this straight.”
“You’re indulging in distracting games,” Lobo said, “induced by your emotions. You’ve chosen to involve us, an involvement that matters only if Dougat attempts to kidnap Chang. If he does, he and his staff become hostiles. If he doesn’t, we’re spectators. The only reasonable option, therefore, is to treat them all as hostiles for the duration of our participation.”
Though I’m glad Lobo is mine, his lack of tolerance for ambiguity frequently leads to conversations that are far more cold-blooded than I prefer. “By that logic,” I said, “to maximize our probability of success we should simply kill them all now.”
Lobo ignored my sarcasm. “That would be sensible from an efficiency perspective,” he said, “but it would remove Dougat’s ability to pay and thus compromise the overall mission.”
Before I could decide whether I wanted to know if he was also being sarcastic, I reached the ziggurat’s entrance.
“Signing off until I exit,” I said.
The atmosphere inside was a perfected version of what I’d felt outside: a bit warmer, a little more humid, with light breezes of unknown origin wafting gently across you no matter where you stood. Perpetual daylight brightened the space. Cloudscapes played across the ceiling. The faint sounds of distant surf breaking and wind moving through grasses tickled the edges of perception. Once again, I had only to shut my eyes to transport myself to the Pinkelponker of my childhood. Either Dougat or someone on his design team had visited my home world, or their research was impeccable.
The center of the space was a single large open area broken by tables, two-meter-high displays, and small conversation areas. The island theme continued here, with each cluster of displays centered on a topic such as early history, agriculture, speculation on the exact cause and final outcome of the disaster, mineral and gem samples, and so on. A few dozen people stood and sat at various spots around the interior, some clearly serious students, many only tourists. Even the most studiously focused of the visitors would close their eyes from time to time as the interior effects worked on them.
The exceptions, of course, were the security personnel. You can costume security staff appropriately, and you can train them to circulate well and even to act interested in the exhibits, but you can’t make them appear under the spell of the place they’re guarding. Even the most magical of settings loses its allure after you’ve worked in it for a few weeks. I counted fifteen men and women on active patrol. I had to assume at least a few more were monitoring displays and weapons scanners, occupying rooms I couldn’t see, and generally staying out of my view.
I kept in character as a tourist, staying long enough at the historical displays to appear interested but not so long as to look like a student of the planet. I’d learned almost nothing of the world’s history growing up there, so I found the background on the generation ship and the later discovery of the jump gate to be genuinely interesting. Docent holograms snapped alert when I lingered at any exhibit, and I let a few of them natter at me. At a display on the various religions of Pinkelponker-growing up there I never saw a place of worship, and the closest I came to prayer was the occasional desperate hope for Jennie to come visit me or for my chores to be over-a docent asked if by chance I belonged to any organization that viewed the planet as sacred. I hadn’t even realized such groups existed; I obviously had a lot to learn about how some people viewed my home.
A large display in the right rear corner of the space offered the only discussion of the legends Jack had cited. Dougat might be as personally interested in the stories of Pinkelponker psychics as Jack had said, but the man wasn’t letting his interest shape the Institute’s exhibits.
Like the other tourists I spotted, I made sure to invest a large chunk of my time gawking at the cases highlighting jagged mineral samples and large, unrefined jewels. Though I frequently stood alone at one of the historicals, I always had company at the mineral and jewel displays. For reasons I’ve never understood, standing near items of great monetary value, even things you’ll never get to touch or own, is a compelling experience for many people. As best I could tell, the larger samples here, like the big jewels in any museum on any planet, illustrated the power of natural forces applied slowly over long periods of time to create artifacts of great beauty. The waterfalls outside Choy’s restaurant and the grooves they’d cut into the cliffs there made the same point and were, to me, more striking and more beautiful, but for most they lacked the powerful allure of gems.
I was intrigued to learn that Pinkelponker had been extremely rich in jewels and that the business of exporting them to other worlds had constituted a major source of revenue for the government. All I’d seen of Pinkelponker was a pair of islands: the one where I lived until the government took away Jennie, and the one where they tossed me until my failed escape attempt led them to sell Benny and me to the Aggro scientists for nanotech experimentation. The gleaming government centers sparkling in sun-drenched images and the stories of gem-fueled wealth led me to wonder, not for the first time, at the amazingly different ways that residents of a single planet can view their world.
The rearmost of the exhibits ended at a long wall that extended across the back of the building and rose to the ceiling. Offices, storage, and loading docks probably filled the remainder of the interior space. As I exited I counted off the distance from that wall; knowing the size of the staff and private space behind it might prove useful. I hoped everything would go smoothly and this scouting would prove to have been a waste, but until this was over, the more information we had, the better.
To the left of the entrance I paid a v
isit to a small concession area. The two machines there offered everything from beverages to quasi-historical data files to glowing bouncy models of Pinkelponker. I purchased some water and listened on the common appliance frequencies on the chance that I could glean something useful.
“Another big spender,” the beverage dispenser said. “Does anyone who visits this place even appreciate what I’m capable of? If they’d bother to scroll through the menu, or even just to ask, they’d learn that I could provide everything from juices to local herbal teas-and some quite good ones, if the reactions I’ve heard are any indication.”
“Isn’t that always the way it is?” the keepsake vendor said. “Oh, sure, a few will buy a bouncing model, but what about the built-to-order and personalized options? How many of these people will take real advantage of what I could do for them? Precious few, I can tell you. Why, I bet not one in a hundred of them has even a clue as to the breadth of Pinkelponker material I could fabricate.”
“If it weren’t for the staff,” the dispenser continued, “my conveyor and rear assembly parts might die of disuse.”
“I’m sorry I’m not thirstier,” I said on their frequency, “but I do appreciate the work you both do.”
Though machines don’t expect humans to be able to talk to them, it takes an exceptionally intelligent one, such as Lobo, to ever question why you’re able to do so. Most appliances are so self-absorbed and have so much spare intelligence that they’ll dive at any chance to chatter endlessly with anything or anyone that responds.
“Thank you for saying so,” the dispenser said.
“At least he bought something from you,” the other commented.
I interrupted before they could get into an argument and forget me entirely; appliances also have extremely short attention spans. “The staff must keep you very busy. I’m sure they appreciate you, and they seem to outnumber the visitors.”
“They appreciate it,” the keepsake machine said, “but not me. Except for the odd desperate birthday gift purchase, they never even visit me. Of course, it’s not like I have an outlet in the back of the Institute. Some machines work at a disadvantage.”
“Some machines are simply more important than others,” the beverage dispenser said. “Every human has to drink, so my offerings are vital. They do not have to purchase the sort of disposable afterthoughts you hawk.”
“I bet each staff member uses you at least once a day,” I said, focusing on the dispenser.
“Not quite,” it said, “but some order multiple times, so the average daily total is actually a bit better than that.”
“You must keep quite busy simply helping them,” I said, “because that must be, what, sixty or eighty orders a day.”
“I wish!” it said. “It’s more like thirty-five to forty orders a day, and I could handle ten times that quantity with ease.”
That put the staff count at about three dozen, which meant security could run as high as twenty or more during busy hours. That estimate roughly matched what I’d guessed from walking around. That much security would have been overkill for a place this size were it not for the jewels, but given their presence it was believable. Because Dougat had the option of summoning a lot of human backup, I definitely needed to keep the meeting in the open, where Lobo could reach us quickly.
I walked outside and wandered for a few minutes among the islands of flowers. That Jack had approached me about a job involving Pinkelponker kept nagging at me. Did he know something about my background, or was it just a coincidence induced by me choosing to spend time on a world only two jumps away? If he’d learned more about me, how, and from what source? With many people I would either ask or feel them out on the topic, but neither approach would work with Jack; he was too much a manipulator for me to play him, and if he knew nothing, I certainly didn’t want to alert him that this was a topic he should pursue further.
My safest option was to do the job at hand and listen closely in case he let something slip-an unlikely event, of course, but a possibility nonetheless.
I headed off the grounds and opened a link to Lobo.
“Enjoy your tour?” Lobo said.
The tone of his voice answered my earlier, unspoken question: he had been speaking sarcastically then. Lobo’s mood never changes due to breaks in a conversation, no matter how long the breaks may be-unless, of course, the concerns of a mission intervene. Though his emotive programming was, in my opinion, overblown, his designers had at least possessed the good sense to make him turn all-business when the situation demanded. For that, I was always grateful.
“It was informative,” I said, ignoring his tone. “As you would expect, we’re going to make quite a few modifications to the draft plan we discussed earlier. Pick me up at the rendezvous point in an hour and a half, and we’ll walk through it again.”
“It’s what I live for,” Lobo said.
I ignored him and continued. “In the meantime, consider options that do minimal damage to this place. I see no reason to trash more than we have to.”
“No reason?” Lobo said, incredulity replacing sarcasm in his voice. “Your instructions were that the top priorities were to get you, the boy, and Jack, in that order, to safety should this turn into more than an interview. You even established that Jack would be in command should you be incapacitated. You would not have given those orders unless you believed this could go badly. The simplest way to achieve your goals and avoid an unwanted conclusion is to take out all opposition staff and positions.”
“That’s not an option,” I said. I winced inside at having put myself first on Lobo’s list, but the reality was that if the day went nonlinear, the best hope Jack and Manu had was that I stayed alive and protected them. I also had to admit that my concern for the boy and for what Jack might know about my past extended only so far.
I signed off without further discussion. Lobo didn’t agree with my orders, but like any professional soldier he’d obey them. He would, though, find ways to remind me of his displeasure; his programmers had mastered the art of the passive-aggressive comment.
I’m glad Lobo is on my team, but right then the prospect of spending the evening with him made the next afternoon’s meeting appear almost attractive.
****
We entered the Institute grounds along the same path I’d taken during my recon. Jack and Manu walked hand in hand ahead of me. I kept out of their way but close enough that my role would be clear; for me to be effective, I would have needed to stay close enough that Dougat’s people would have made me no matter how hard I tried to blend in, so broadcasting
my presence seemed the best option available. The feel of Pinkelponker washed over me as I walked, and at a gust of ocean breeze I involuntarily smiled, the wind taking me back for a second to one of my most persistent childhood memories: sitting on the edge of our small mountain in the afternoon, my chores done, soaking up the warmth while waiting for Jennie. I pushed aside the thought and focused on expanding my peripheral vision as much as possible so I could take in movement all around us.
Jack’s pace accelerated a bit.
“Slow and easy,” I said.
He nodded and resumed his earlier pace. I wanted as much time to assess the situation as I could reasonably arrange.
The sky out to sea and above us sparkled with cloudless perfection, but a storm was approaching from the west. Lobo was marking time about five miles away behind the cover its dark clouds provided. I’d have preferred him overhead, but at this distance he could stay subsonic and still reach us in less than thirty seconds; the reward of keeping him hidden outweighed the risk of having him closer but visible.
About ten meters from the building’s entrance stood a small sky-colored canopy covering two chairs and a small table. A man sat alone at one of the chairs: Dougat. Four more men stood in a rough semicircle on the other side of the canopy. Roughly three meters separated each of them, and none was in the line of fire of any of the others. All tried for nonchalant postures, but I was acting casual as well; all our attempts were equally unconvincing. The two in the middle focused completely on us, while the end men constantly swept the area.