Deucalion (19 page)

‘Gaston and the faceless men. The ones who would keep us from learning. From this world, from the Elokoi. From each other. The ones who want to stop us finding out if there can be another way.'

A dark cloud drifted across the moons. Seconds later the rain began. It fell in sheets, the way it always does on the island, but neither of us moved. I don't think Jane even realised it was raining. She sat where she was and stared at the same spot in the sky. ‘There must be another way, Daryl. Or else it's all been such a terrible waste of time. And you were wrong about one thing . . . the Elokoi do have a word for murder. They learned it from us.'

26

PROPERTY OF . . .

Security Section

Central Administration, Edison

2/14/101 Standard

DENNY

Hans Albrecht . . . The Security alert listed all the information they had on the mystery man. Denny smiled to himself. The picture on the screen showed a balding fortyish man with a dark moustache. The Security file-search had automatically activated the alternative ID file in the mainframe, routing around the one which came into play when he used the cred-access card. A secret identity was of little use if they could punch it into the mainframe and come up with your picture. Especially if most of the people who were looking for you knew you personally.

But it was a worry. If they knew about Albrecht, then Jane's ID was useless too. And they probably knew about the money. Denny hoped the cred-trail was as impossible to trace as his Black Market contact had assured him it would be. He withdrew the false ID from his card-file and fed it and the bogus print into the shredder.

It shouldn't be too long now. Santos, Hendriks's ‘mole' on Gaston's staff, had fed them enough information for them to start making it hot for the phony President. Passwords, secret accounts, ‘donations' from the DMC. The code for his ‘secure' ether-link with his hired assassin, DeGroot, who was based in Roma. Even the complex routine that had given Gaston his access to the inner workings of the electoral computer.

But it was not quite enough. Codes, accounts, computer programs. They didn't actually
prove
anything. The guy was the President. It would need more than that kind of evidence to bring him down. And they had to be careful. If they tipped their hand too soon, it was all the kind of evidence that could be removed with a few keystrokes on the right computer.

A sudden thought hit him.

If a few strokes can remove it, then a few strokes should be able to make it impossible to remove . . .

Five minutes later, in the safety of his own residential, he punched the code that activated the ether-link. After a few moments, Hendriks's face appeared on the vid-screen.

‘Denny! What's up?'

Without formality, he plunged in. ‘Who's your best mainframe hacker?'

‘Pete Tang, I guess. He spends half his life in cyberspace.'

‘Can you put him on?'

‘Of course. What is it, Denny?'

The young man smiled. ‘I want him to put in a few isolation loops, to transfer whatever Gaston deletes into a secure file that only
we
have access to.'

A minute or two later, he was explaining his requirements to the hacker in question. ‘Can you do it?'

Pete Tang smiled. ‘Piece of cake. But if you're really interested, I can go one better.'

‘Tell me about it.'

On the tiny screen Denny watched the young man lean back in his chair, and link his hands behind his head. ‘You're
really
going to like this,' he said . . .

Presidential Complex,

New Geneva (City Central)

2/14/101 Standard

CAEL

The three Elokoi were ushered into the room, and accepted the seats that the young woman indicated. They were barely seated, before Dimitri Gaston entered, accompanied by a man called Kennedy whom he introduced as his ‘executive assistant'.

Ever since the coming of the Dream, this meeting had been inevitable, but Cael had always intended that only two of them should come. Saebi, because the Vision was hers, and himself, because . . . because it was right. But in the end, Rael had persuaded them that he would be of value. The months of sharing his family's homespace with Jane had significantly improved his use of Standard. He would, he said, be a help. Especially if the discussion became difficult.

At the beginning, however, he sat quietly and allowed the others to do the talking.

‘I'm sorry.' Gaston held his hands out in front of him, palms up, in a gesture of helplessness. ‘There's not a thing I can do. The Reserves are law. They are the only land you are entitled to.'

‘What is . . . “entitled”?' Cael asked the question, after Rael indicated that he did not know the word. The old Elokoi was translating any of the unknown terms as the conversation went on, and supplying the words for Cael or Saebi to speak.

The human allowed a trace of frustration to register on his face before he smiled again; an expression that made the Elokoi exchange a glance, because it was so far removed from the mind-tone of superiority that simultaneously washed over them. Some offworlder emotions were easy to pick up, even if the workings of their alien minds were impenetrable.

‘Let me explain,' he went on. ‘This is a map of the whole land mass of Deucalion. The yellow part is desert, the red is uninhabitable.' He paused, anticipating an interruption, but Rael had managed a translation and they simply nodded. ‘The soil is poisoned by' – he tried to find a way to avoid using the word ‘volcanic' – ‘fires under the ground, which send the poison up into the air and the soil. This green area is the east coast, where we all live. This is where the Reserves were set up. This is where you must stay.'

Saebi stood up and walked over to where Kennedy was holding up the map. No Elokoi had need of a map. The Clans carried the picture of their own Clanspace inside their heads, and the Tellers knew the Desert from the stories of the Great Trek, and the travels of the Journeyers. But seeing it there, set out on a huge board, she realised for the first time what it was she was asking her people to undertake. The knowledge scared her.

Cael continued. He would not be put off by talk of Reserves and offworlder laws. ‘The Reserves hold no . . . future. Every year, we grow less. Cubs do not come as they did. We must return to the Land of our . . .' He waited for a translation from Rael. ‘The land of our firstborning.'

The President of the offworlders looked confused. Moving across to the map and standing beside Saebi, Cael went on, ‘This blue . . . this is deepwater?'

Gaston nodded. ‘The inland sea, yes.'

‘This is homespace of all Elokoi Clans.' He allowed his slender finger to trace a path around the northern and eastern coast of the blue expanse. ‘We want . . . we
need
go home.'

‘Home?' Gaston allowed a trace of scorn to enter his tone. ‘You haven't lived anywhere but the east coast and the Fringes for ten thousand years. How can you talk about
home
?'

From his seat in front of the President's desk, Rael spoke aloud for the first time. ‘When I am young, I work for plantation at Williamsbaerg.' He hesitated over the difficult name, but pressed on. ‘I plant and water and cut Ocra with poor offworlder. Too hot for most to try. And I learn speak Standard. You know what most offworlder talk about?'

Gaston shook his head.

‘They talk about
home
.
And they don't mean settlement. They talk about Earth.' In the Elokoi way, he sounded both the vowels. ‘They never go back Earth, but it still “home” to them. How you talk to us about home or “ten thousand years” or what
we
allowed? This not even your home. You been here maybe one hundred cycles, and you tell
us
where we can't go?'

Hatred burned in Gaston's eyes, then the politician's smile swept over his features again. ‘Look, I'm not here to discuss policy, or Native Species Protection.' This time, he didn't even pause to see if his words were understood. ‘I'm the President of a democratically elected government, and it's my job to make sure the laws are followed. Whether you like it or not, the only land you have any say over is the land set aside as Reserves. That's how it is, and there isn't any point in talking about it. It's for your own good.'

He moved across to the map, and stood in front of Saebi and Cael. ‘Look at the map. The colour all around the coast of the inland sea is
yellow
.
Desert. If I let you make the trip there – even assuming you could make it across the Great Desert – you'd all be dead inside a couple of years. There's nothing for you out there. There hasn't been for ten thousand years.'

‘The Dream says different.' Saebi spoke to his back.

‘The
Dream
?
What dream?'

Saebi opened her mouth to reply, but realised there was nothing that she could say that would make this man – of all the offworlders – understand the power of a Truedream.

Cael cut in. ‘It is Time. And we will make the Trek. We
will
go.'

Gaston turned and looked down at him furiously. ‘You will
not
go. That whole coastline is the property of the Deucalion Mining Corporation. They have a two-hundred-year mining lease on the area, and when it becomes economical, they will be setting up operations all along the coast, and out in the sea itself. If you even try to go there, I'll have you forcibly removed as trespassers and brought back to your Reserves.'

He moved back and sat down behind his desk. ‘Now, unless there is any other matter you wished to discuss, I have important work to do. Kennedy, show them out.'

Rael seemed about to say something, but a look from Saebi silenced him. They left without a word.

Bloody ferrets . . .

Gaston stood and moved across to the window, surveying his domain. In the street below he watched three tiny figures emerge from the building and make their way along the wide main street. He saw how ineffectual they looked, how the heads turned as they went past. Soon they were lost in the distance, and he turned back to his desk. But the map caught his eye. It stood where Kennedy had leaned it up against the cabinet. He walked over to it and traced the coastline with his finger, as Cael had done.

Home . . .

He remembered the streets of Earth. The bustling cities, the smells. The excitement. He even remembered the poverty. He missed it all.

And he had lost it all because of a bunch of hybrid brats.

Home . . .

The Reserves were their home. The only one they would ever know. The only one they were entitled to. And if they died out, it was one less thing for everyone to worry about. In one of the files on the opposite wall were mineral reports from two or three of the Elokoi Reserves. He would have to think of some politically acceptable way of relocating at least a couple of the existing Clans, anyway. Law or no law.

27

GANDHI

Carmody Island

Inland Sea (Eastern Region)

5/14/101 Standard

JANE

‘It
has
to be. Look at the configuration of the genes.' I was leaning forward over the screen of the electron microscope, so Hendriks couldn't see anything. But I was excited. This was the closest we'd been to a breakthrough since I'd arrived.

‘The Elokoi DNA appears to be having a retardant effect on the H27 strand. Look, I've prepared a chart. On the left-hand side are the graphs of the control group. A random sample of the slides you brought with you from the Facility. You don't happen to remember what H27 controls do you?'

It was a mean question. Eidetic memory wasn't one of Hendriks's qualities. But like I said, I was excited. This was it,
I could feel it
.

He shook his head, and I let the question ride for a
minute.

‘Now look at the graphs on the right-hand side. They're a few of the kids. I took new tissue samples last week. Notice anything odd around the level of H27?'

He looked carefully at the graph. ‘There's a slight irregularity, as if part of the DNA has been . . . bled off. What's the magnification?'

‘About two million. I wanted to get down to the nuts and bolts.' I knew he'd gone that small himself on numerous occasions, but there were so many variables. I was following a hunch, and he knew it.

He smiled. ‘Okay, I know you're dying to tell me. So, what is controlled by H27?'

I smiled too. We really did work well together. ‘One of the Band Two neurotransmitters. It's an enzyme that helps to regulate reflex reactions.'

He looked puzzled. ‘But how would that affect the ageing process?'

‘I'm not sure. But it's one of the few enzymes that affects nerve function throughout the body. I guess if the reflexes are firing more often, but less efficiently, there's a long-term stress factor to consider.'

‘Treatment?' When Hendriks trusted you, he lapsed into shorthand.

‘I checked on the enzyme structure. We could manufacture it – if we had the right lab. Balancing the dose might be tricky, but . . . it's a start.'

He leaned over and kissed my head. ‘It's more than a start, Jane, and you know it.'

I smiled back. ‘I know it. But I do have a vested interest.'

Suddenly he looked more serious. ‘Yes, I suppose you do,' he said.

Denny called me up a day or so later.

He'd been out at the Wieta village, and he told me about the meeting the Elokoi had had with Gaston. If I hated the guy before, I was ready to dance on his grave at that point.

‘The nerve of him!' I almost dropped the mini-comm as I punched one of my pillows. I was relaxing in my room when the call came in on the ether-link, and everyone else had kindly shut off their comms to give us a bit of privacy. It was the only kind we could get for the moment.

I was thinking out loud. I heard myself say, ‘He's a real big man in front of three Elokoi, who aren't going to do anything to offend him, let alone harm him. I wonder what he'd do if the whole of the Elokoi nation descended on him.'

For a moment, Denny was quiet. Even over the link, I knew that silence. He was thinking. Finally he spoke. ‘Maybe that's it. They intend to go anyway. Gaston or no Gaston. I know it. Saebi's Dream is causing a tidal wave through Reserves all up the coast, and the Fringes have already sent Elders to Share it and take it back to their Clans. They're comparing it openly with Gaita and the Great Trek. Rael says he's never seen anything like it. Within a month, they'll all begin to move down the coast and across the Ranges. They intend to assemble here and plan their Trek. I'm just worried about how Gaston will react. He doesn't know anything about it yet.'

He paused again. ‘But I was thinking—'

‘I figured you were.
What
were you thinking?'

‘Gandhi.'

‘Gandhi? And what the hell is ghandi?'

‘Not what, who. He was a leader on Old Earth, back in the twentieth. He knew more about politics than the whole of the Congress tied together. He lived in India, which was ruled by one of the Old Powers – England, I think. And he organised a kind of . . . bloodless revolution. Passive resistance to authority. You didn't fight them, you disobeyed them peacefully, but in such numbers that they couldn't really do anything about it. What you said before reminded me of him.'

‘What did I say?'

‘You said, “I wonder what he'd do if the whole of the Elokoi nation descended on him.” Seeing as we're going to have the whole Elokoi nation here together, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to find out what he'd do.'

I jumped in before he got too carried away. ‘Here,
where
?
Here, Edison, or here New G? There's only about a thousand clicks difference, you know.'

‘I know,' he said, in a tone of voice that worried me. He sounded too confident. ‘That's the beauty of it.'

I waited; there had to be more.

‘What's the biggest problem the Elokoi have?' I still waited. Denny just loved to answer his own questions. ‘Nobody knows anything about them. That's what! You'll get the odd redneck who hates them because they aren't the same as him, or because they can talk without moving their lips, but most people don't know enough about them to love them or hate them. And that's what Gaston and his kind rely on. That's why the Elokoi have spent the best part of the last century imprisoned on Reserves.'

He moved off-screen for a moment, then returned. ‘Sorry. I was just getting a drink. Now, picture this. Ninety thousand Elokoi making a long march from Edison to New G. There aren't too many settlements between here and there, but the tube-news crews could cover the whole thing with flyers. At the moment, the Elokoi just aren't news, but if we could
make
them news – if we could build up the whole thing long before they actually arrive. You know, drop items to Internet for the tube-stations to pick up and run with, get the people on side. It would make Gaston reluctant to play the bad guy. A few soft-focus shots on the tube showing Elokoi cubs, and half the population will melt. We could even organise support rallies before they arrive. Then, when they do get to New G, we sit them down in the streets surrounding the Congress and the Presidential Complex, and dare him to do something.

‘I know the guys in Security. They'll follow orders, but they won't go so far as to hurt anyone – even an Elokoi – who isn't threatening them, or anyone else. Especially if the whole world is watching on the tube. If we can get public opinion on the Elokoi's side, Gaston will have to cave in.'

‘Why? He doesn't have to worry about getting re-elected, remember? He re-elects himself.' I felt like I had to ask the negative questions. I was beginning to like the plan too much. It sounded so logical, it scared me.

‘Maybe. But he has to stay reasonably popular, or the next time, the result will smell even more than it does this time. Besides, it isn't going to come to another election. We're close to nailing him now. What we need is a scandal, or an issue that will grab the attention of the media and spook him into making a mistake. Daryl and I are working on that at the moment. In fact, an event like this could make an ideal appetiser.'

‘If you're so close to “nailing him”, why not just wait until he's off the scene? Then the Elokoi will have an easier time of it anyway.'

‘Can you guarantee that? Gaston hasn't been around for the last hundred years, but the situation has. In the beginning there was a lot of bigotry and anti-Elokoi feeling, but that's not the problem now. The problem now is apathy – people don't understand, so they don't care. They've enough troubles of their own without worrying about some group of little furries living on government handouts. I know it's not really like that, but it's how people see it that counts. And now we've got the perfect opportunity to break the cycle. How many people – except the board of the DMC – would deny the Elokoi their stretch of desert, if that's really what they want? People aren't basically bad, Jane, they're just . . . lazy.'

I had to accept his judgement on that. I didn't know ‘people' well enough to hold an opinion. But I had to admit, most of the people I'd met lately were pretty okay.

‘What exactly are you and Daryl working on?' I didn't like it when the two of them got ‘mysterious'. I'd watched them on the island when Denny was there, and they were like two kids.

But it was going to take a whole lot more than kids' games to topple Dimitri Gaston and the Deucalion Mining Corporation.