The unit in Dalkey’s apartment answered after the first blink. Kelly plastered on a big smile as the camera changed to live. “Dalkey! Hi!”
“Kelly!” She was right. Dalkey was up and dressed. He was still rail-thin, and his hair was brusquely chopped into the bureaucrat’s unbecoming clip. He wasn’t bad-looking, but there had always been something too smooth about him that turned her off. Trying to be impartial, she had to admit that there was never anyone so obviously born to wear a narrow-necked suit. “Are you back on Earth?”
“I am,” Kelly said, and let out a deep breath. Once she uttered the next phrases, she was committed. “Can I come over and talk to you? I’m not far from your Aisle. I’ve got a favor to ask.”
Dalkey looked surprised but pleased. “Sure. I’ve got thirty before I’ve got to punch in. Come and have breakfast.”
Kelly paid a credit into the kiosk and accepted a receipt chit from the slot so the door would open. Then she retraced her steps to the Corridor. Dalkey lived one more Aisle over, and down to the right several hundred meters on the same level as the Hrruban Center. Several times along the way, she had to force herself to slow down and remember to bow her head like native Terrans. People were beginning to notice her. Kelly bit her lip and concentrated on the appropriate mincing steps, though it was permissible to move slightly faster in an Aisle. She couldn’t take any chance that a sharpeyed monitor might become suspicious and whisk her off the Aisle into Poldep headquarters.
Dalkey was waiting right inside the door of his apartment. He lived in a block of flats occupied mainly by government employees in the Space Services. With an elaborate bow, he escorted her inside.
“Welcome back, Kelly. May I hope that you’re back on Earth for a long stay?”
“Actually not,” she said, glancing around. The room was a typical bachelor pad. The Residential and Housing Administration allowed the minimum amount of space for single people. The place was sparsely furnished, the walls one of the neutral colors permitted, but it held one surprise: a very colorful tapestry in the Doonan style which brightened the room immensely. Kelly didn’t recognize the weaver, but it was an excellent piece of work. In her eyes, that upgraded Dalkey a notch above the usual run of bureaucrats. “Thank you for the invitation to breakfast. Can you really spare the calories?”
“Sure can,” Dalkey said, waving her to a seat. “I have more than I need. I keep some of the excess on credit for times when friends drop in, such as now.” He programmed two breakfast meals out of the food machine and smiled at her as the characteristic whirring began behind the panel.
Synth-food! Kelly smiled bravely back, wondering if she could keep from gagging. The moment she left for Doona weeks ago, she had gladly put the horrors of synthesized food behind her.
The hatch opened to reveal two plates. Several different grayish or pale tan masses were arranged on each.
“Here we are,” Dalkey said cheerfully, as if conferring a real treat, as he brought the steaming plates over to the table and placed one before her. “Go right ahead.” He slid into the chair opposite her and began on his own food.
From long experience Kelly remembered which lump was supposed to simulate eggs, and that the next was a milled grain colloid, but the last one’s origin she had never been able to figure out. Certainly it could never have been meat, and it wasn’t sweet enough to be fruit. She knew that only because the saccharine dessert lump that followed the midday meal was supposed to be fruit.
Dutifully Kelly picked up her fork and started to eat. With the first mouthful the flavor, or lack of it, brought back memories of four long years of make-believe comestibles. She reminded herself that billions of Terrans started every single day with this food. It was healthy, contained every vitamin and mineral necessary for life, and was easily digested. It was still disgusting. She thought she was doing fairly well at disguising her distaste until a tiny chuckle brought her attention back up to Dalkey. He was watching her with an impish gleam in his eyes. He waggled his fork at her plate.
“Not what you got used to on holiday, is it, colony girl?”
“Well”—Kelly laughed self-deprecatingly, putting her fork down—“when you grow up eating real food, it’s hard to adjust to a synthetic substitute. If you hadn’t been born here, you’d know what I mean.” The inadvertent use of Kiachif’s favorite bridging phrase reminded her of her errand. “Look, I’d be happy to send you some fruit and things from Doona, so you can find out what you’ve been missing.”
“From the look of you, plenty,” Dalkey said, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t need to finish the meal, if you can’t stand it.”
Gratefully Kelly got up to put the dish into the hatch. As she turned back to the table, she found Dalkey standing over her. She started around him, but he pinned her against the wall, his hands on her shoulders.
“So,” Dalkey said, lowering his eyelashes seductively. “Come on. Out with it. You didn’t come back here just so I can look into your beautiful eyes, although I’m always happy to have that opportunity. What’s the favor you need?”
Kelly squeezed back against the synthesizer hatch so there was a few centimeters breathing room between them. The expectant expression on his face alarmed her. She had spent all that time worrying whether anyone would notice her on the street when she should have been figuring out how to fend off Dalkey’s advances. He was taller than she was and thin; even his neck was thin. He needed more muscle on him. She could probably knock him down with just a good hefty push. Which wouldn’t get her the favor she needed, and she didn’t need a wrestling match. Resolutely, so he might realize she had other things on her mind, she folded her arms over her chest.
“All right, here it is,” she blurted. “I need to find a man, housed somewhere in the blueblood Corridors. He was released from a prison planet about ten years ago. He was an expert in laser technology and he’s been given some kind of annuity. I need to know why. The safety of two of my dearest friends is at stake, not to mention the continuation of the Doona colony.”
He gave her a measuring look. “And in return?” he asked, running the back of his hand down her cheek. “Surely you’re not going to offer me a silly case of Doona oranges for performing an illegal act with such broad-reaching consequences? Spacedep frowns on people trying to penetrate the privacy files of a former convict. I could be exiled to a mining planet, and so could you for asking. Hard labor.”
Kelly nearly asked him what he did want, and realized that she didn’t have to. She decided to tell him the truth, and trust to his discretion.
“Dalkey, two friends of me and my family are being framed for crimes that there’s no way they could have, or would have, committed. I have it on very good authority that this man might know something about the method that was used to incriminate them. He’s the right kind of expert, and he seems to have more money than someone recently paroled ought to have. It’s also very odd that a man who faced a life sentence should be paroled, at just about the time we have now discovered a conspiracy was evolved to discredit my friends. He could be an essential party to that conspiracy. I always thought of you as a person with a fine sense of justice. I’m appealing to that now.” And she looked Dalkey straight in the eye.
“You’ve got me interested, I’ll say that much. Too many criminals get loose and there’ve been gangs that have done serious damage. So what sort of crimes are your friends supposed to have committed?”
“Horse rustling, theft of antiquities, possession of stolen goods, and breaking prohibitions set by the Treaty of Doona,” Kelly replied, still keeping eye contact. “No matter what you decide, please keep this confidential.”
“You just bet I will,” Dalkey said with a weak laugh. “As a colonial, couldn’t you have fallen for small-time offenders? I’m sure not in your class.” He stepped back then, still shaking his head as he let his arms fall to his sides. Kelly gulped in relief and flushed with e
mbarrassment.
Dalkey winked at her consternation. “You don’t have to look so surprised. I may not be the man you thought I was, but I’m not the one you were afraid I was either. Ah, ah, ah, don’t deny it!” He shook a finger under her nose. “On the other hand, if you’re feeling grateful later on, I wouldn’t refuse.”
He gestured for her to sit on his couch, an old piece Kelly remembered from his student digs and a lot more comfortable than it looked.
“Now, suppose you acquaint me with all the details you’ve got about this mysteriously paroled felon,” he said. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a name?”
“Captain Kiachif knew him as Askell Klonski.”
“He’d change his name first thing,” Dalkey said, “to shield his real identity. Or maybe that was the name he changed to. Never mind. What else do you know?”
While Kelly talked, he made notes by hand on an old piece of film. “Best not to enter anything on a computer, even for immediate printout and erasure. You never know when the government monitors might choose to check for employee subversion.”
Kelly was impressed by his caution. “You surprise me, Dalkey. Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s not such a surprise. I’m not quite the perfect cog in the machine yet. You know, I’ve always been attracted to you, partly because you come from Doona. You seemed so much freer than most of the other girls. A pity that freedom didn’t extend to the sensual pleasures.” Kelly eyed him warily, wondering if he was going to make a grope. He pursed his lips, amused by her. “I’ll help you because it’s one way for me to get back at the upper-up bureaucrats. There are dirty tricks being played on other people, not just your friends, and I’m getting sick of them. Are all the government services as dirty as Spacedep?” He made a face.
Kelly hurried to reassure him. “No, they’re not. Alreldep isn’t, otherwise I wouldn’t be staying with it. Sumitral’s a straightforward man, and he attracts people of a similar stripe.”
“Stripe?” Dalkey asked.
“That’s a Doonan compliment. You should transfer to his service. Or,” Kelly said, laying a hand on Dalkey’s arm, “opt for Doona the next time you hear of a residency opening. I’m a citizen. I can sponsor you if you want to come. You could work in the Treaty Center. You’ve got the right kind of training.”
“You’d do that for me? Just like that?” Dalkey asked, snapping his fingers. Kelly nodded. “Yes, I believe you would, colony girl.” Then he grinned wryly. “So it’s to my advantage to help your friends clear themselves, thus keeping the Doona Experiment going. Fair deal. Look, you’d be safest staying here in my apartment while I get the data crunching. What monitors don’t see, they can’t report. I don’t share with anyone, so you wouldn’t be disturbed. If you don’t feel comfortable,” and Dalkey eyed her for a long moment, “I’ve some friends who work in Residence Administration and maybe they can let you crash somewhere. It may take a couple of days to snoop into the right files.”
“A few days? I don’t have that much time, Dalkey. I’ve got to go back to Doona tomorrow, no matter what. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch either: it’s not that uncomfortable.”
“No, you’ll sleep in the bed,” Dalkey insisted. She opened her mouth to protest, and he clicked his tongue chidingly. “Ah, ah, ah, there you go again. I can sleep on the couch. Especially if my courtesy gets me out of Spacedep. Oops, five to the starting clock. I’d better go and sign in. I’ll see you after shift.”
Kelly’s conscience stung her as Dalkey saluted her rakishly and stepped out of the door. She’d had to revise her opinion of him upward. During their years at school, she had never had the courage to brave her way past his cool facade: an impenetrable barrier to the self-effacing colonial girl she’d been. She was sorry now that she’d been so reserved that she’d missed the chance to know someone who could have been a good friend.
The time passed with maddening slowness. Kelly tried to sleep but the walls seemed to close in on her. They weren’t that far apart. She was very tense during the first few hours, afraid that a friend of Dalkey’s might decide to visit him. Then she reminded herself that everyone would know Dalkey was at work. She didn’t dare use any of the electronics, for fear of alerting the residence monitors, who would also know that no one should be in the Petersham flat. So she didn’t, for fear she might be apprehended as a burglar, taken into custody, and have to explain why she was on Earth when she wasn’t supposed to be. She’d be incarcerated on Earth: never see Doona—or Todd—again. Years of claustrophobia and synth-food! She paced out the dimensions of both of the small rooms over and over again. The apartment was about three times the size of her student studio flat. It astonished her to recall that she had actually existed for four years in a box that was smaller than Calypso’s stable.
Dalkey had only a few nonfilm books on his shelf. One of them was an antiquated economy text. Another was an old, old copy of a novel about a great lover of the fifteenth century. She smiled, wondering if Dalkey considered himself a latter-day Casanova. For lack of better occupation, she began to read.
* * *
“Kelly?” a voice prodded her softly. “Shift’s over.” To Kelly’s drowsing unconscious, the voice was unfamiliar. Alarmed, she shook herself out of a sound sleep and sat up. Dalkey Petersham was looking down at her, smiling. She remembered then where she was: on his couch in his apartment on Earth. The swashbuckler novel was open upside down on her stomach.
“I want you to look at this,” Dalkey said, nudging her over so he could sit down. “Behold the product of many hours of furtive work. I hope you appreciate this. Lucky today wasn’t a busy day.” He handed her a film printout of a residence document. “I’m glad you didn’t want the names and addresses of a whole host of people. It took forever just to get this data. The system hasn’t been debugged since ice covered the Earth. I lived in fear while the computer was processing. I wanted to climb through the screen and bang its little chips together. You’re right, by the way. There is such a man who knows lasers. He is a former felon, by the name of Lesder Boronov. His name’s been changed to Askell Klonski, and he does live in a fancy part of town.”
“Oh, Dalkey, you’re amazing!” Kelly said, devouring the closely typed sheet. “How did you find him?”
“Strange to say, he was in the Spacedep file index, bold as brass. It required a little special jimmying, because it was restricted under the Spacedep privacy seal, but I managed to push my way in.”
“Spacedep?” Kelly asked, staring at him. “Why?”
Dalkey raised his hands helplessly. “Who knows? But only Landreau himself, Commander Rogitel, and a couple of other top brass normally have access to that index. See where it says that he’s been retained for ‘special services.’ Special services covers a multitude of bureaucratic sins.”
“I could cite a few right now. You didn’t have the same sort of luck about his financial records?”
“I couldn’t get more than a credit balance,” Dalkey said with a rueful expression. “My supervisor came by, saw the kind of screen I had up, and said if I was doing my personal banking on Spacedep time I might as well go officially on break. He watched me the rest of the afternoon, but I had all I could access without generating suspicion. He got a fine big credit balance, that Boronov!”
Kelly agreed. “But did he make it the way I think he did ... ?”
“Which is?”
“I don’t want to say it for fear I’m wrong,” Kelly said, not wishing to cross her luck at this juncture. “What are those other printouts?”
“More research,” Dalkey told her with considerable satisfaction. “While I was in the index, I got curious. Do you know that there isn’t just our laser friend here under the seal? There are several people, all listed as performing special, unspecified services, and getting paid hefty hunks of credit. I got to the initial screen, showing their profiles. There wasn’t time to get more, but I�
��ll look into it when I have half a chance. Rather a lot of them are out on early remission.”
Kelly’s eyes widened. “So Klonski-Boronov isn’t an isolated case. They’ve got a fileful of dirty tricksters.”
“All on file,” Dalkey said, disgusted. “More than I feel comfortable knowing about, too. Makes me more fed up with Spacedep. Codep’s no better. I contacted one of my pals at lunch. He ran a similar check for me in the Codep index. He found something like this there, too, before he got caught accessing forbidden files. As soon as you’re safely off Earth, I’ll bring him to the attention of Amalgamated Worlds Administration as a whistle-blower. They’ll have to take his statement as a public document, so he doesn’t unexpectedly get shipped off to a mining colony.”
“I didn’t intend for anyone to get in trouble,” Kelly said, concerned. But she held tightly on to the film printout Dalkey had given her. It wasn’t full proof, but here in her hands was the beginning of what she needed to clear Todd and Hrriss.
“Not your fault,” Dalkey stated promptly. “There’s more than one of us sick of the corruption. Before they took him away, he managed to get his printout to me. They’re trying to trace down what he was doing and who he saw afterward, but I’ll wait till you’re clear. They have their dirty secrets, but you are my clean one.”
“I’ll keep faith with you, Dalkey.” said Kelly, “as soon as ever I can. But these,” and she shook the printouts, “mean that Todd was right. Landreau is involved and using Spacedep facilities. I can’t take the chance that I’ll get caught before I can get these to an official source. I don’t like mines either.”
She had Dalkey make a call to the Poldep office from a public kiosk, requesting a confidential appointment on matters concerning the Doona Experiment. Kelly prepared to leave as the hour approached. She was surprised to find that she wasn’t as nervous as she had been when she arrived through the grid. In fact, she was almost looking forward to her meeting with a Poldep official.
Crisis On Doona Page 21
