Asimov’s Future History Volume 8

by Isaac Asimov

  But where?

  She opened her list of names and started scrolling. Most of the people she knew well worked for the Service. Going to one of them was a fifty-fifty chance that they were involved or would become targets themselves. She winced inwardly at the solid recognition that she could trust none of her former colleagues. Who did that leave? Relatives? No. Her parents were dead, most of her brothers and sisters had emigrated to a Settler colony, except Toj, but he lived in Europe now. Besides, it would be unfair to make them targets, especially since they were known to the Service and were probably being watched in case she did contact them. Her best friend from university had broken off their friendship when Mia had signed for Special Service. The rest of her friends... well, none were close enough to ask this kind of favor from. If they were, she could not see that it would help. They did not know what it entailed. She would be putting them in danger.

  This was frustrating. Paranoia occluded every possible action.

  Mia stopped scrolling and stared at the name that now appeared on the screen. Gradually, she felt herself begin to hope.

  “Bogard, help me get dressed. I know where we’re going.”

  Seven

  ARIEL LISTENED TO the quiet music, eyes closed, and wished for sleep. The day had stretched till it felt like two had been compressed into one.

  The delicate sound of ice in liquid clattering against a glass brought her attention back to the present. Jonis Taprin smiled tensely at her as he sat down in the chair opposite her own, his back to her wall-length window. Beyond, D. C.’s roof sprawled in the night, marked by guide towers and isolated pools of light outlining the expanse of shell beneath which millions of people worked, ate, slept, lived their entire lives without ever seeing the stars except on a screen in a classroom or library. A few enclaves erupted from the surface to boldly challenge the open sky, homes of the unaffected rich and offworld visitors who found constant enclosure beneath tons of metal intolerable.

  Ariel absently rubbed the sole of her left foot with the toes of her right. “Why is it, after hours and hours of sitting in front of a com, my feet hurt?”

  “I’d rub them for you,” Jonis said, “but Jennie might think I’m hurting you.”

  Ariel lifted the glass Jonis had set beside her, ignoring the remark. Jonis no more worried that Ariel’s personal robot would object than she did, but he liked Ariel to invite him to touch her, a game she occasionally appreciated but one that he overdid. “Thanks,” she said, “I think I’ve earned this.” She sipped. “Sorry I haven’t had time to talk. It’s been chaotic.”

  “Same here. More so, maybe. Clar’s death has left a vacuum large enough to swallow the sun. I appreciate you let ting me hide out for a few hours. This may be the last reprieve I get for the foreseeable future.”

  “If your office is half as insane as mine...” She let the remark fade unfinished. Jonis had been on the verge of some sort of breakdown since he had arrived. Oddly, he seemed guilty about something–perhaps survivor’s shame. Besides being his vice senator, Jonis Taprin had been Eliton ‘s friend.

  Jonis glanced over his shoulder at the view. “I’m getting better. Maybe by the time you agree to cohabit, I might even be used to it.”

  Ariel felt herself tense at the remark, but covered her reaction by rubbing her eyes.

  “Want to talk about it?” When she gave him a sharp look, he raised a hand defensively. “Your day, I mean.”

  “Oh, it’s...” Ariel sighed. “Have you ever tried to calm down someone who is terrified for no good reason?”

  “Just today, as a matter of fact. I think I’m about to be doing a lot of that.”

  “I’ve been in contact with, oh, thirty-five or forty people since the incident, all Aurorans, all important people, all ready to book passage on the next ship back to Aurora. All I had to do was convince them to stay.”

  “Did you?”

  “Most of them. A few can’t be consoled or mollified or threatened. They’re leaving.”

  “What about Guviya Tralen? Isn’t she the key to the rest?”

  “You might say that,” Ariel agreed. “The rest follow her example. If she buys on the Terran Exchange, Aurorans the world over buy. If she sells, they sell.”

  “If she runs home...?”

  “Exactly. I’d rather negotiate with a Managin sometimes. She said, ‘My good Ariel, this planet is a sick place. There’s no fixing it. Too much time, too much history, too much ingrowth. We’re wasting resources on trying to come to terms with them. Our ancestors were right to leave and the Settlers are right, much as it pains me to admit that anything born on this world can be right.’”

  Jonis raised his eyebrows. “Hmm. Well, her analysis is sound. I’m not sure I’d agree that we’re sick.”

  Ariel waved a hand. “Talk. She wanted me to offer her something.”

  “And did you?”

  “I offered her a blot on her reputation if she ran. Sometimes that’s more important to a Spacer–at least to an Auroran–than comfort, security, and happiness.”

  “So she’s staying?”

  “At least until the investigation is done. If arrests are made, then I think I can pressure her to stay on.”

  “You’re wonderful, Ariel. If your fellow Aurorans leave now everything Clar and Humadros worked for would fall apart. The treaty is still there, even if the architects are not, and there’s no reason to think we can’t still get it ratified.”

  “Has there been any progress?”

  “In the investigation?” Jonis shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. Of course, it’s a little soon.”

  “I thought you had prisoners?”

  “I haven’t heard anything from any interrogation.” He sighed tiredly. “I’m not looking forward to the next few days, either. I have to contact the families of Clar’s security team and tell them all their children are dead.”

  Ariel saw the anguish on his face. Jonis was very much the politician in public-controlled, reserved, emotional when necessary. In many ways he was the perfect successor to Clar Eliton. She wondered sometimes that he had never run against Eliton in a general election, contenting himself to be Vice Senator Taprin, but he worked very effectively behind the scenes while Eliton presented the more visible public face. In the months she had known him, Ariel had found him to be as much an idealist as Eliton, but coupled with a practicality Eliton had seemed to lack. Now he would step into the senatorial position and she looked forward to seeing what he would make of it.

  “A waste,” she said. “Did you know them?”

  “Not well, but then Special Service doesn’t encourage intimacy on the part of their operatives.”

  For a moment Ariel considered inviting him to spend the night. But she had a lot on her mind and wanted to sleep and knew if he stayed that neither of them would.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

  Jonis started. “Hmm? Oh, sorry, I drifted... um, I have a meeting with the Euro Sector Bilateral Commission on Manufactures and Distribution.” He gave her a sour grin. “Thrilling stuff. I can’t wait to write my memoirs and take up the challenge of making this all sound romantic.” He shrugged. “But absolutely necessary. They need to be reassured that the talks are going ahead. Oh, I should warn you–Senator Covidry is going to propose a delay of five days.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not entirely in disagreement with him–it would give us time to reorganize where necessary and give the police a chance to find the perpetrators. This has been a hell of a shock, to put it mildly. But Clar wouldn’t delay, he’d push right ahead. So I’m honorbound to fight a delay. Expect it to pass, though.”

  “You really admired him, didn’t you?”

  “Clar? yes. He wasn’t a fake. His convictions meant something. He couldn’t always say what they were, but you could tell they were there, supporting him. A rare man.” Jonis glanced at his wrist. “Damn, it’s after midnight. I better get out of here and let you get some sleep.”
/>
  Ariel relaxed. A consummate politician, Jonis, always correctly gauging his public, and knowing exactly when to make an exit. She got to her feet wearily and let him embrace her. His lips brushed her ear briefly.

  “I’ll call,” he said.

  “You get some sleep, too.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She walked him to the door. R. Jennie waited with his jacket. Jonis cocked an eyebrow at the robot. “Goodnight, Jennie.”

  “Good evening, sir. I trust you had a pleasant visit?”

  “Too brief, but very pleasant.” He winked at Ariel.

  “Later.”

  When the door closed after him, Ariel sighed heavily. “I’m going to have to make a decision about him some day, Jennie.”

  “May I be of assistance?”

  “No, I don’t think you can help with this one.” She took another drink.

  Jonis was the first person she had become intimate with since she and Derec had parted. At first it had been convenient–their schedules and duties guaranteed that they saw each other only for short times at odd intervals–but Jonis had become more and more insistent on a formal arrangement. She was uncertain that she wanted–had ever wanted–quite that much companionship.

  “It is late, Ariel,” R. Jennie said. “You have an early appointment in the morning.”

  “Are you telling me I’m up past my bedtime, Jennie?”

  “You do usually retire before eleven in the evening if you do not have guests staying over.”

  Ariel looked at the robot. R. Jennie wore her humaniform mask tonight, a pleasant, beige-colored face with bluish eyes and the suggestion of a smile. The features did not move, giving it an antique flavor, but it was better than the medieval machine mask Ariel had it wear when Earthers came to visit. The revulsion of Earthers to humaniform robots struck her as their most perverse trait, but she accepted it as part of life here and did her best not to aggravate the problem.

  Which made it all the more irritating when Spacer vendors circumvented the rules and sold humaniforms anyway, like that fool Udal. Imports were controlled, so how had he even gotten them? And then to have the gall to come to her and demand action against the vandals... she needed to inspect his warehouses, squeeze him a little to see if she could find the leak. Just now the last thing any of them needed was a black market import scandal.

  Ariel shook her head. “Can’t sleep, Jennie. Too much on my mind.”

  “Would you like a soporific?”

  “No. Why don’t you shut down for the night, Jennie? I’ll go to bed soon.”

  “Very well, Ariel. Good night.”

  She barely heard R. Jennie pad away to her niche.

  Ariel yawned and stretched. She went to the window, glass in hand. Somewhere out there was the ocean, the Atlantic. Aurora had nothing like it, just a series of big lakes and artesian springs, underground rivers. Of all the features of Earth only the oceans disturbed her, the only natural force that seemed to match the lemming irrationality of Earth’s people.

  She did not tell Jonis the rest of her conversation with Guviya, grand matron of Auroran business. She wondered if she ever would, even though it bore directly on her decision to be alone tonight. It had been a brief exchange. After Guviya’s pronouncement on Earth’s sickness, Ariel had said, “Perhaps. But when your brother or sister falls ill, you help them. You don’t turn your back on them or throw them away.”

  “Of course not,” Guviya had replied, “but we don’t allow them to become ill in the first place.”

  Ariel had wanted to reach through the link and slap her for hypocrisy. No, heaven forbid a Spacer become ill, what might that say about the culture? Perhaps Ariel expected too much to hope that Guviya would understand her point. Guviya did not know that turned backs and disposal had been precisely the treatment Ariel had received from her fellow Aurorans, many years ago and a lifetime away. Or did she?

  Her com chimed and she moaned.

  “I said no more calls.”

  Another chime. She took her drink and crossed the room to the panel.

  “Accept, voice only.”

  “My apologies, Ariel,” came Hofton’s voice over the com. “I didn’t wake you?”

  “No, but I wish you had. That would mean I’d gotten some sleep tonight.”

  “I thought this couldn’t wait. The surviving members of the Auroran legation are demanding immediate transport back up to Kopernik Station.”

  “Survivors... how many are there?”

  “Four. I’ll forward their bios.”

  “Wait, Hofton, I don’t understand. What am I supposed to do? Shouldn’t Lys handle–oh.” Ariel felt foolish. Lys was dead. Who else had gone down from the embassy? They had been fortunate that Setaris had refrained from attending, but the rest of her key staff had gone. “Sony, that’s a silly question. But this isn’t really my job.”

  “It seems to be now–they were all forwarded to this office. I’m sure it’s only temporary, Ariel. Besides, I thought perhaps you might regard their departure as something of a problem in light of all the damage control we did today. The legation itself leaving...?”

  “Of course, but hasn’t Setaris talked to them?”

  “I would assume so, but...”

  “I can’t blame them for wanting out. No one we talked to today had been shot at.” Ariel turned her glass, letting the ice rattle. “Maybe one of them could stay... All right, I’ll make one more call. Who’s in authority now?”

  “I’m not exactly clear on that,” Hofton replied. “Either Benen Yarick or Tro Aspil, but I gather there’s an internal dispute of some kind.”

  “Fine, I’ll talk to–” Ariel’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Tro Aspil?”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Slightly. I didn’t realize he’d risen to this level. He was just an intern at the Institute last time we spoke. I’ll call him first. Thank you, Hofton.”

  “I’ll try not to disturb you for the rest of the evening.”

  “Thanks,” Ariel said wryly. Her buffer indicated receipt of Hofton’s profiles. The connection ended and she accessed the files, then placed her first call.

  Tro Aspil did not answer. Benen Yarick accepted her call promptly.

  “This is Ariel Burgess, commerce liaison, from the embassy. I hope this isn’t an inconvenient time.”

  “No, not at all. No more inconvenient than anything else since we’ve been here,” Yarick said, her voice uneven and strained.

  “I understand that you’ve all requested immediate transport back to Kopernick–”

  “Oh, yes. And from there directly back to Aurora on the first available ship, yes. We are all... overwhelmed. Well, most of us are. We can’t function in our present condition. Perhaps another legation will come later, after...”

  “I understand your state of mind, believe me,” Ariel said. “But... please understand, normally I’m not the one you need to talk to about this–Ambassador Setaris should be the one–but I’m grateful for a chance to talk to you about it and I’ll do what I can to help. I deal with those Aurorans who come here to live, do business, have interests on Earth. That ends up with me acting as a very complex kind of interpreter between Terran and Auroran–”

  “You have my sympathy,” Yarick said.

  “It’s not all bad. After today I expect the rest of the year will be easy. But right now I’m trying to keep a panic from destroying everything we’ve built here. Humadros’s mission would have made my life–well, not easier, but at least more hopeful. ‘As it is, everything could fall apart.”

  “As I said, you have my sympathy. How does that concern us?”

  “It’s a question of appearances. I’d like you to reconsider your departure. Delay it, at least until the local authorities can make arrests. It would mean a great deal to the resident Aurorans to see the surviving members of Humadros’s legation–”

  “I’m sure it would, and I’m sure you mean well, and maybe you even shared Galiel’s vision of a s
tronger tie with this planet, but frankly I could care less right now,” Yarick interjected. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I watched people I loved and admired die today from an act that made even less sense than the actions these people usually make.”

  Yarick closed her eyes briefly and seemed to gather herself. “I’m quite honestly afraid, Ms. Burgess. The only reason we’re talking–well, there is no reason we’re talking, only blind chance. Humadros died right in front of me. Then Carset, then Shoal. They were the heart, mind, and spirit of this mission. Then all the others–Vorin, Janilen, Aspil, all dead right in front of me, and the wounded, Kitch, Moreg, Vanloonis, Graw... No, I want out. I’m just as glad Setaris forwarded me to you because I don’t want to talk to Ambassador Setaris. When she has the time, she’ll do her level best to talk us out of it, and she can be very persuasive.”

  Yarick shook her head emphatically. “I don’t want to be persuaded, and I don’t need any added guilt. I want these arrangements made quickly and with the least fuss. Everyone else on the embassy staff will be in sympathy with Setaris. I want a full escort to the shuttle. I won’t begin to feel safe until I’m on a liner back to Aurora. I’m sorry I feel that way, Ms. Burgess, but I do and I can’t stop shaking. I’m frightened of this place. If I stayed, what good could I do, hiding here in the embassy? Because I won’t set foot on a Terran street! They even killed their own representative!”

  “Please, Ms. Yarick, I understand–” Ariel began.

  “No, you don’t! Have you ever been shot at? Has your life ever been threatened so immediately that you believed your next thought would be your last? I don’t think you do understand!”

  “How old are you, Ms. Yarick?” Ariel asked quietly.

  “What? I–what?” Yarick frowned, off-balance.

  “How old are you?”

  “Ninety-eight.”

  “Do you know that the average life expectancy on this planet is less than eighty?”