Branegate (17 page)

Trae followed his instincts; what Father did not want them to know they would not know. In only minutes with others like him Trae could garble any thought he wished to with a mess of random information. It quickly became a game. Nearing the end of the meal, he was enjoying the game until another thought came to him.

Don’t try so hard. It’s distracting.
Trae smiled faintly, looked around the table, but there was no reaction to be seen there.

Lunch ended, Meza and Wallace went back to their work and Myra guided them on a quick tour of two floors of offices and cubicles where the day to day business of Zylak Industries was conducted. There was really not much to see, except Myra, who also gave him a pile of literature and prospectus of the various holdings, and suggested strongly that he at least scan them. He didn’t tell her that all the information was in his head; it seemed arrogant of him to do so.

Even with a quick tour it was late afternoon when they were finished. A new driver came for them and they went through the ritual of getting in and out of the limousine just so they could drive a hundred yards down the street to a hotel also owned by Zylak Industries. They were put up grandly in a penthouse suite of five rooms with large windows on three sides looking out over the subterranean city.

“Welcome to the world of extreme wealth,” quipped Petyr when Trae grinned at him from the cushiony embrace of a long sofa.

“Does it bother you?” asked Trae, suddenly serious.

“No. It’s part of the family fortune, so enjoy it. Just don’t let luxurious amenities distract you from what you have to do.”

“It’s your fortune, too,” said Trae.

“I don’t need it, not in this way. Neither does Leonid Zylak. It’s service that counts, service to an individual or an entire civilization. That’s what we’re about, Trae. Not the luxury, but while we have it I
will
enjoy it with you.”

Now Petyr smiled, and Trae relaxed again.

Dinner was sent up to them, a roast with new potatoes and served with a fine red wine. Petyr drank most of it, but allowed Trae half a glass. It was Trae’s first experience with an alcoholic beverage, and he didn’t particularly care for it.

Their luggage had been unpacked for them and put away in two separate bedrooms. Trae thought it a courtesy, but Petyr was suspicious as usual. Even though his briefcase had been locked, he made several spot-checks of the memory cubes inside to see if they might have been recently opened. This took up half the evening, while Trae watched a documentary on medically useful aquatic Elderonian plants on the giant screen in their living room.

They retired late to their separate bedrooms. Trae was over-stimulated by the events of the day, his mind still going over questions he wanted answered the following day. But as he finally drifted into the twilight of sleep, a pleasant thought came to him like a soft breeze, and it was not his own.

Good night, Trae. I hope you’ll be happy here and want to stay a while.

He immediately fell asleep, feeling suddenly welcomed. And in the morning he remembered it.

He’d expected his day with Meza to be boring, but it was not. Trae gained new respect for the man. He demonstrated a solid grasp of the intricate networking required for the many units of the conglomerate while allowing the units to operate internally as independent businesses. His knowledge of interplanetary business and economics was profound and he was a “people” person, quick with a smile, a compliment, a warm handshake. If there was a flaw in the man it was arrogance, but Trae could tolerate that as long as the man’s competence and performance justified it.

The conglomerate itself was incredibly diverse, with divisions in materials, electronics, energy, medicine, computer systems, manufacturing and astronautics. New sub-divisions came and went as the needs arose. And Meza was running all of it.

Myra appeared a couple of times to give Meza important messages that included cubes for his review. Meza seemed to sense Trae’s interest in her. “She’s much more than an administrator. Myra’s an expert in both management information systems and economics. She does most of the geometric algorithm work for our modeling people. You can never tell, of course, but she’s a third generation lady with well over two hundred years of experience. Not bad for a thirty-year-old, eh?”

Trae found it interesting, but disappointing. Myra looked twenty—tops.

The conglomerate that was Zylak Industries was not public, did not issue stock, but had a governing board. Meza was its chairman. He’d offered to provide a position for Trae on the board, but Father had refused it, saying that his son needed to be quietly hidden in the research division where all the new technology would be happening. This was fine with Trae. Business was interesting, but it was the practice of science and engineering he really wanted to do. That made the second day of his visit much more interesting.

The first day Petyr had seen him to the limousine, then stayed behind, saying only that he would find other things to do during the day. That evening he didn’t say what he’d done, and Trae didn’t ask. Trae suspected he’d spent the day with his collection of memory cubes. The second day was different. Petyr got in the car with them; they drove not to the corporate offices, but to a building near them. It was early, and the ceiling lights high above the city went from orange to light yellow before they reached their destination. Wallace Hunley himself was there to greet them.

Wallace ignored Petyr, who nonetheless followed them closely. “I was up half the night thinking about what your father has proposed. A lifetime or two might even put a dent in it.” He laughed.

They entered the three-storied building of windowless concrete. The entrance was a short hallway with four elevator doors, and one was open. They entered the open elevator. Wallace inserted a key and turned it. They descended.

“The sub-basement isn’t marked, and we’ll give you a key for entry. This is where you’ll be spending your time here,” said Wallace.

The door opened. Soft music. Panel lights in the ceiling were a light green over a forest of cubicles. “Welcome to the think tank,” said their host.

There was more to it than cubicles: meeting rooms, cafeteria, auditorium, several rooms with bunk beds, and an IC 1200 supercomputer with an entire wall filled with memory. Many of the cubicles were empty. “We’re a bit early,” explained Wallace. “A lot of folks work out and eat breakfast upstairs before coming down.”

They walked around the periphery of the cubicles. “I have a small office down here. Your cubicle is right next door so I can pick your brain in person whenever I feel like it.” In the far corner of the room was a small, glassed-in office. The cubicle next to it was twice normal size, and unlike the others had a door. Inside were blank walls, a curving table, book cases on either side of the door and not one, but two computer consoles. “The one is a PC, the other goes direct to the IC 1200,” explained Wallace.

“We’ll need another chair,” said Petyr suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Wallace looked at him sharply.

“Another chair. I’ll be working here with Trae.”

“Our security here is more than adequate. I don’t see why—”

“Petyr will be working with me on occasion,” said Trae. “It’s a requirement, not a request.”

Wallace was momentarily stunned. “Well—of course—yes—I’ll see to it. I just thought—”

“Petyr has his own projects, but is also my librarian for all the data Father has sent with me. It’ll speed up our work.”

“Yes—I see.” Wallace was still confused, having thought Petyr was nothing more than a bodyguard.
If only you knew,
Trae thought evilly.

They went into Wallace’s office and the man showed them the list of tasks he’d received. Trae scanned it quickly, tapped the page with a finger and said, “Number three is most important, and the rest will follow naturally. We know the physics of the vacuum state and how to access it. The problem is how to provide power systems, thrusters and field generators that will fit into a ship no larger than a current interstellar transport.”

Wallace chuckled. “Any suggestions?” he asked with humorous intent.

“You already peeked at it. Layered superconductors at the nano-level, conductor pairs stacked anti-parallel to eliminate magnetic field effects. Infinite current in a nano-sized conductor. That’s the beginning.”

“You’re proposing an entirely new technology. It’ll take years at best.”

“I’ll show you how to do it sooner,” said Trae.

“And the entire project has to be up to the testing stage within a few years,” said Petyr.

Wallace practically snarled at him. “Impossible,” he said.

But Trae knew he was wrong.

CHAPTER 15

Y
oung Zylak has reached Elderon. It’s obvious his enhancements are complete, or close to it. He’s amazing everyone.

Hmm. Does anyone know what he’s working on?

No. He’s working with the research staff, and we don’t have any people in there. They’re keeping things hush, hush, even to board members. All we’ve been told is he’s a bright young kid they discovered somewhere. What should we do now?

Azar Khalil sat in lotus position, a towel draped over his knees. Steam swirled around him, and his muscled body glistened with sweat. To the others who sat near him in the clouds of fragrant vapors he seemed to be in meditation, breathing deep and slowly, eyes closed.

Do nothing for the moment. The strikes should be coordinated and as simultaneous as possible. We’re not ready here yet, but the team is assembled. I need to win a few more friends before we move.

What about the father and mother?

It’s out of our hands. They went through the portal months ago. The deed is already done; it doesn’t concern us. When I want the boy dead I’ll tell you, and I’ll expect it to be accomplished on the same day.

I have three good men here who can do it without being traced. Zylak and his bodyguard will cease existence.

Not the boy’s scans. I’ll want to know everything in him. We still have no idea what his father is up to, only that’s he’s certain to oppose us.

Perhaps we’ll hear something new from home soon.

Azar hummed to himself, turned his palms upwards, knowing he was being watched.
We’ll not wait for that. Be ready for my order; it could be soon.
He bowed his head, exhaled loudly, and opened his eyes.

“Back again,” said a fat man sitting near him. “When I try that I just go to sleep and fall over.”

Laughter.

“It only requires practice, my friend,” said Azar, and stretched his arms languidly above his head. “Ten minutes of that is like three hours of deep sleep for me. Thirty minutes, no more. The rest of my time is for work.”

“So that’s how you do it. I’d just use the time for eating. I must say I admire your discipline, Azar. I’ve never seen a man expand his holdings as fast as you have.”

“Ah, then we’re all in good company. The most successful of us are in this room, and I like to feel I can call you my friends as well as colleagues.”

“Indeed you can, Azar,” said another man sweating in steamy gloom.

“Good. As friends I also hold you in my confidence. I feel I can talk to you about private matters, share my secrets, as you will. We’re together in so many ways, not just in business, but in political matters.”

The fat man edged closer to him. Faint shadows in clouds of steam, two men stood up on the other side of the brightly tiled room and came over to sit opposite him on a small, stone bench. “You said there was something serious for us to discuss, and here we are. What is it, Azar?” asked one of them.

Azar paused for dramatic effect, smiled nervously, shyly. “I hesitate. The subject itself could be dangerous to talk about. I wouldn’t bring it up if I didn’t trust all of you with my most intimate thoughts.”

“What you say will not leave this room,” said the fat man, and the others nodded in agreement.

“Very well, but it involves our Emperor in a difficult time. I don’t want to make any hasty judgements about what’s happening all around us.”

“You’re being polite,” said the fat man. “He loses his police chief, and declares martial law. The man’s in a panic; he sees assassins everywhere. He overreacts to everything. The offworlders see it as signs of instability. It’s hard enough for me to get their business without Osman going on another one of his witch hunts.”

“Quraiwan was a monster. He kept this city in a state of fear for years, and Osman never once tugged on his leash. I will personally not miss him,” said another man.

“But now we have martial law, and more police on the streets,” said Azar. “People are openly complaining. I’ve never seen such demonstrations before now. The people have lost all trust in their government.”

“Have you had a chance to talk with Osman since Quraiwan was murdered?” asked the fat man.

“I’ve tried to, but he won’t see me,” lied Azar. “This is worrisome. I fear he’s lost trust in those of us who’ve supported his policies over the years. And he’s certainly lost touch with his people.”

“He fears a coup, perhaps,” said one of the men sitting opposite him.

There was a long silence in the room, and then the same man spoke again.

“Does he have reason to fear a coup, Azar?”

“Ah,” said the fat man.

Azar leaned forward, and gave each man a long and sincere stare. “These are dangerous and unstable times, gentlemen. If something does happen, we want to be in a position to control it, for if the wrong people come to power we can lose everything we’ve worked for. I don’t intend to let that happen. Religious zealots, or whoever the terrorists are, can not rule this planet, my friends, nor will a man who has lost his rationality and isolates himself in terror.”

“Who, then?” asked the fat man.

“That’s what we need to discuss,” said Azar.

The fat man actually smiled at him. The others did not.

CHAPTER 16

T
ransition went smoothly, a spectacular light show that lasted several minutes as they passed through the boundary between two universes. Leonid and Tatjana had another drink as they watched it all on the view-screen, and held hands. Their mood was somber, wistful, leaving something behind but returning to something familiar.