“Boston? Atlanta?” Erica asked, becoming increasingly nervous over the fate of the large metropolitan areas in the growing unrest on Earth. “There has to be at least one Eastern city that will still be in good condition for the foreseeable future.”
“Washington, D.C. The heavy military presence and research facilities in Dahlgren, Laurel, Dietrick, and elsewhere count for a great deal in the eyes of our national government. They’d let everything else go before they let that place collapse. Once they scared away the ghetto-dwellers with a plague breakout, they were able to establish firm order. But most cities don’t have that kind of military industry and couldn’t support that level of police presence anyway. I wasn’t originally calling you to tell you to speed up the end of the conference. I was calling to tell you how bad things have gotten—both for the Feds, and for Hyperion itself.”
“I’ll see to it that the conference ends as soon as possible,” Erica said with a newfound sense of urgency. “I just need a little bit more time to make it as seemly as possible.”
“See that you do,” Mr. Samuels said. “If you manage to pull this off, the possibilities for you in our organization are limitless. If this operation fails, I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen to your career at Hyperion as a result.”
The monitor went dark and ceased making its crackling noise, indicating that the communication with Samuels had ended. Ask me to worry about my career? Why don’t you ask yourself what will happen to Hyperion Corporation itself if I fail? She pondered, alone with only her anxieties to keep her company in the Dark Room. Then she decided it was time to get another opinion.
Anthony was reclining in a comfortable chair, awaiting the arrival of Erica Duquesne. Uncharacteristically for him, he felt calm and relaxed, for he had a sense of total control over the situation unfolding on Transfer Varess, and felt assured that he knew how Erica would respond in the conversation he had planned out. She was driven and adaptable in ways that an unimaginative clod like Macdougal could never hope to be. Macdougal was so archaic, so immersed within the world of the federal government and its bureaucracy, that he lacked the perspective of an executive from the private world who had spent every day laboring under the anxiety of possible layoffs.
As Erica entered the room, Anthony silently pondered her figure. She was rail-thin, had thick glasses, and her hair was beginning to turn white with age and stress, but Anthony suspected that when she had started her career at Hyperion, she was likely quite the looker. Maybe that imagined Erica of the past was part of his interest in her? No, he reassured himself, I’m only interested in her for her mind. “Erica, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” Erica responded. “I think my contact among the Garanians is onto us. We really need to bring this conference to a close as fast as we possibly can. If it goes on much longer, I think someone will discover our conspiracy, be it the Garanians, that other robot doctor…”
“Or that Forlani chick you hate?” Wilson finished for her. “I may want to take my time with this operation, but you can be damned sure I’m not oblivious to what’s happening to you, or anyone else on this station. We need to play this for the long game and do it right. Don’t give me that same shit Macdougal gives me, I thought better of you than that.”
“You’re not the one who has to put on this act for them. It gets harder and harder to make excuses to keep the charade going. Even with the voice encryption and the Dark Room to disguise me, they’ll eventually catch onto my mannerisms. We’ve drawn out this operation too long already.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you starting to get paralyzed with fear because you think one of your precious promotions will be endangered? Are you worried the bigwigs at Hyperion are gonna shitcan you because you’re beginning to get up in years? Have some goddamned vision for once! You’ve done so well for so long, if you just keep it up we can pull this off! And if we do, I’ll see to it that you’ll have much more in it for you than some executive suite at Hyperion!”
“Just what are you getting at?” Erica said, her voice dripping with exasperation. Anthony could tell he was losing her, so he opted to detail some of his plan to entice her further. “This isn’t just about screwing up one peace conference and getting recommended by your board. This is about bigger things. How would you really like to get back at Ayan’we, that Forlani woman you dislike so much?”
“What are you insinuating?” Erica said. “I know how difficult the whole situation with the Forlani is…I know it got Bill, my precursor, fired. If that’s your idea of a promotion, I don’t think I want a part of it.”
“Not the way Bill was in it. I’m offering you a golden ticket out of Hyperion. Out of all the stress, fear of being fired or demoted, and all the corporate bullshit. I want to make you my partner in a little business venture I have planned for Forlan.”
Erica’s eyebrows were raised, but there was no other sign of shock. Good, Anthony thought. Just the kind of mindset I need in a partner, not like that cowardly little shit Macdougal .“Go on,” she said.
“If this shakes out the way I think it will, the Song Pai will be busy in a state of total war for a long time. On the other hand, those purple marsupials can’t build an army to save their lives. We could take that planet, even in the sorry-ass state the plague has left us in, and make so much money we could live like the emperors of old! Those pleasure houses have tremendous profit margins, and if you were my business partner, you could resign your position at Hyperion and never have to worry a day as long as you live! Independence from Hyperion, freedom from Earth…it’s all yours if you agree to be my partner. You in?”
Erica considered Anthony’s request carefully. Becoming involved with Anthony would ultimately doom her career at Hyperion—her bosses wouldn’t take kindly to an employee going into business for herself and cutting them out. If the scheme somehow failed, she would also effectively destroy her career at Hyperion, as any investigation by the authorities that discovered her would result in the corporation immediately firing her and disavowing all knowledge of her actions. On the other hand, turning down Anthony and successfully completing her original mission would allow her to continue to climb the corporate ladder…in a corporation still rooted in a chaotic, plague ridden Earth, where her bosses were looking for any excuse to get rid of another high-priced executive. Perhaps Anthony’s offer was the only way to real fortune and security…
Erica slowly reached her arm out towards Anthony. He enthusiastically grasped her hand and gave it a good, hard shake. “I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking,” he said. “After all, someone like Macdougal thinks he can clutch that fat government pension to his chest even as the world rots around him. People who work for private employers have to be so much more…enterprising than him.”
Erica gave a light sigh. “I just hope we can get through this without being detected. It’ll only get more difficult from here on out.”
“Oh you’ll get what I promised you. Just as long as you never call me ‘Tony’. The moment you do that, deal’s off.” Anthony said with a hearty laugh.
Several days slipped by. Entara's appeal to the Council of Nine had been successful, as had their contact with the upper levels of the Song Pai hierarchy. Together with entreaties from the Rokol, the Kael, and the Newts, these efforts had swayed the Song Pai leadership to remain in the conference proceedings for the time being. The elder member of their delegation had seemed to welcome this decision, as he had promised to have his forces scour the station to look for clues to Torghh's disappearance. The Song Pai security chief had confided to Ayan'we that he feared Torghh must have been completely eliminated, since their most sensitive devices could not detect any electronic signature of his functions anywhere on Varess. Many of the other searchers had come to the same conclusion. Rack seemed to be distracted by something uncovered in his own investigation and from the new responsibilities thrust upon him, so that he had
been unable to make much headway. All the security forces had become demoralized and were on the point of giving up the search and assuming that Torghh's remains had been removed off-station somehow – all the more so because traces of some jettisoned materials bore a similarity to Torghh components. The only thing that kept them going was an insistence that Kael security had picked up some electronic anomalies that they could not pin down. They suggested that perhaps Torghh had been altered sufficiently to disguise him as an undistinguishable piece of machinery, effectively preventing his detection.
Ayan'we had just finished explaining the developments to her mother. “Do you think we can continue to keep the Song Pai delegation here, as long as Tashto continues to make speeches accusing them of the crime? I get the feeling our allies seem stretched to the limit. The Song Pai security chief suggested that apart from himself and the old leader, the other members of their group are already determined to go. There is worry that the majority will try to depose them.”
“It's a desperate situation, firstborn. The Coriolans have not joined the pro-conference faction so far. I am hoping Rack can shake off his distraction and use his deep knowledge of Torghh to reach a conclusion. But I know we can't count on that. I have had more strange dreams lately myself and have to concentrate to keep my mind on politics.”
“Maybe there's something about this Varess station that causes things to be a little eerie. Mother, I've never been in a place where so much conspiratorial mischief has been brought together. I always feel hemmed in. I wish I could run and run through an orchard until my legs gave out. Everywhere you move here, something is in the way, someone is watching, one force or another is trying to use you or twist you.”
“It's called claustrophobia. I understand other species are more used to it than we are. We can thank the Creator for the free winds of Forlan. I doubt we'll ever be eager to build a box of worry like this to sit out in space, even when we eventually have a little fleet of our own vessels.”
“The humans don't seem to mind these stations. I read a transmission from the Petrusian command at the Tau Ceti Anchorage to the Rokol Trading Federation warning them that the humans were making subtle maneuvers toward reclaiming management of Tau Ceti for their own race again. This despite the fact that they have complete access to everything there.”
“From a commercial viewpoint, Ayan'we, Tau Ceti has never been better managed than since the humans' plague problems forced the Petrus-Rokol-Kael combine to assume direction. Attempts to shanghai pleasure girls have dropped to zero and a lot of the corporate cheating that used to prevail has been eliminated. Previously Hyperion, Big-E and the other Earth corporations were always in collusion to lower the value of everyone else's shipments.”
“I bet even Klein would have had his hands full cleaning up that mess.”
“True, my daughter, but I think he would have left immediately to go back to his home planet to work on peaceful resettlement if he could. Believe it or not, he was never comfortable carrying a weapon. I remember how he would wake me at night, thrashing around in agony after finishing off some colonist who had fallen into the claws of a Local. He would have preferred to build and to play. Especially with his own child now pioneering the efforts down there.” An odd expression came into Entara's amber eyes. “I wonder if he would have wanted to join his human mate, as well.”
Entara was silent for a moment as she pondered whether to reveal her latest secret to Ayan’we. Finally she decided she owed her loyal offspring all her trust. “I’ve had another dream about him, you know.”
“I hope it was more pleasant this time.”
“On the contrary, even more puzzling.”
“It was about some odd time, maybe the future, or maybe no time at all. We were on his planet, next to a salty sea. It frightened me a little, but seemed very familiar to Klein, almost second nature. Then there came a creature, and the creature became a baby that was both Quatilla and you, firstborn. First and last, now that I think of it. Beginning and end.”
Ayan’we glanced at Lila, who was following the tale with rapt attention. “How unusual to dream such things. Please tell me more.”
“The young one grew so fast, so fast, as I changed, too. Then it was time to lift you up. Even with Klein’s strength and mine combined, we almost couldn’t manage it. We had to throw it – you – into the air and you soared up and away.”
“Didn’t this young one say anything? Was that the end?”
“You didn’t say a word, but it was not the end of the dream. Klein and I were going to go back to a safe place, but he found some rusty shards on the ground. I tried to get him to drop them because I sensed they contained danger.” She gave a half-hearted chuckle. “But you know our friend Klein. Danger always drew him like a magnet. He felt there was some duty that had fallen on his shoulders. When he picked up the pieces and put them together, they morphed into a vicious-looking blade, some ancient Earth weapon. He had spoken some words, like an invocation, that I didn’t comprehend.”
Ayan’we felt an ominous shroud creep over her, but she corrected herself and tried to comfort her mother with a determined attitude. “Well, then. We’ll have to redouble our efforts to make sure. Don’t worry, mom. The cluster and I will do all we can to keep everyone safe.”
Then the young Forlani tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “Could it be, mother dear, that you were getting a little bit jealous of the human woman Klein spent some intimate time with?”
Entara gave a squeal of delight. “Ayan’we, you little minx! You’re definitely fully grown! I hadn’t even considered such a thought would sneak into my dreams.”
“Don't worry with jealousy,” chuckled Ayan'we. “From what I've heard, Helga Peterson didn't waste much time cuddling with him. The fact that they were able to conceive Amanda at all was a bit of a fluke, the product of a brief moment. Now on Amanda’s side, that's different. She grew fond of him when she was a nurse's aide on Coriolis, even before she knew he was her dad. She would swap almost anything to spend five minutes in his presence.”
“And I bet you would do the same to spend more time with her. You quickly became almost like sisters. Closer than some sisters.”
Ayan'we reached out a hand to caress little Quatilla, who was crawling around at Entara's side. “I love all my sisters, first to last, alpha to omega.”
“Help me watch over this one. I realize I was unwise to bring her and expose her to danger, but I just couldn't do otherwise. Something powerful kept tugging at me.” She looked Ayan'we directly in the eyes. “I would be willing to sacrifice my own life for the peace that this conference can establish, but so help me, I could not sacrifice her without going mad.”
“I stand by you. Don't be afraid.”
Tashto needed to be alone for a while. It was most uncharacteristic of Garanians. “Stay in sight range of your friends, stay in claw’s reach of your enemies” the old saying ran, inscribed since time immemorial in the intelligence of the children of Garan. This was the resting time, though Tashto, like many who had entered the secret Society of Meditation, used it for their own purposes, away from ever-prying eyes. He hunkered down into the pose of reflection, not the “spring up” position taught for prudent sleeping, but the one that relaxed everything, placing the meditator in total muscular relaxation as a prelude to the deepest level of thought. The one stance in which a Garanian was truly vulnerable and the only one where he could be completely open to his most private ideas and emotions.
This had nothing to do with the speech he had given days before. It had transpired as ordered by his superiors. Tashto had seen to every detail of the discourse. He had been rigorously trained in rhetoric. The intelligence service had tested him numerous times on both live audiences and screen emissions to assure that he was able to deliver the right balance of logical impact and emotional appeal. The speech before the assembled conference had been a model of persuasion, angering whom it had meant to anger, sowing doubt where it had meant to sow dou
bt, adding confusion in every way to the proceedings of the peace meeting. Tashto was sure that he would be richly awarded when he returned to the home planet. He would be given recognition, wealth, and power and many of creature comforts in which, he admitted to himself, he longed to wallow.
It was just that something about this affair caught in his throat, making him feel as though he wanted to vomit. It was not a case of indigestion. Unless it was psychic indigestion. Where was the inconsistency, in thought or in feeling? Surely he felt no guilt for deceiving the others in order to bring misfortune to the Song Pai. Deception was the very soul of conflict for Garanians, and the cephalopods had wreaked shame and suffering on his kind for so long that anyone on Garan would dismiss this as a case of rightful vengeance. He searched himself for traces of pity for the alien foes and could find nothing there. Was he abusing his role as delegate? Definitely not, since it was his charge to represent the interests of the intelligence ministries in all ways and by any means.
If the objectives of the ministries were intact, it must therefore be something in his own consciousness that was causing the disturbance. That machine he had delivered to the unknown co-conspirators must have something to do with it. He realized that every memory associated with that part of his mission had rankled him, causing turmoil that had to be suppressed within. He felt a conviction that the machine had something to do with the disappearance of Doctor Torghh. Not that he or any other Garanian would feel anything like sympathy for a robot. His species despised the artificial creatures, including those they assembled themselves. No automaton, however intelligent, could bring a shiver of empathy from one of the reptile folk. It did not take Tashto long to assure himself that he felt not the slightest compassion for the fate of Torghh. He could not bring himself to feel undue curiosity over what might have become of the doctor.
No, it must have to do with the namelessness of his co-conspirators. Nameless, but worse still, faceless. That was it, certainly. It was the way of the Garanian hunt to ambush, but always to make one’s face known to the prey before the bite of death. To deal constantly in the dark was… dishonorable. Honor, that was the key. At the unspoken mention of the word a light ignited in his consciousness like a fire on a distant hill. Honor, his old bugaboo that was always whispering somehow to him. It was an unavoidable conclusion that he was an accomplice in something that was rubbing the wrong way against a notion of honor that had haunted him since adolescence. Throughout his training and later during his career, he had always had to thrust it into the background, bury it, to go so far as to drive a stake into its innards, yet it always re-emerged at the least convenient times. Here it was re-emerging again.
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