Downtime (21 page)

“Something
to eat, sir?” he heard Marmion say.

Jason
looked at the perfectionist, reached for whatever it was he was handing him. It
took him a moment to realize he was holding a piece of bread. He chewed
tiredly, the bread making his mouth dry. Marmion handed him the flask of fruit
juice again, and Jason drank.

“Better
get back,” Jason finally said. “See what Calla has done with what’s-his-name.”

“Mahdi?”

Marmion’s
voice sounded hollow. Jason tried to get up, found that he could not. “Marmion?”
he said. “Marmion, help me up.”

“It’s
all right, sir. Just relax for another minute.”

“. . . can’t . . .”
He couldn’t see Marmion. He couldn’t see anything. “Marmion?”

***

The sun was in his eyes. Jason blinked and tried to open
them. The sun was straight overhead. He sat up abruptly and the movement sent
pain crashing through his skull. He put his hands to his face and rubbed.

“Marmion?”

“Yes?”

The
perfectionist was sitting on the ground, leaning against the kiosk. The
sunlight played in brown and yellow amber all around him. “What the hell . . .
You drugged me.”

Marmion
said nothing, but he looked very uncomfortable.

“Why?”

“Mahdi,”
he finally said. “You would have charged him with hunting in the preserve,
perhaps even have tried to hold him for trial.”

“You’re
damn right I would. He may be the imperator general, but this is my planet. No
one flouts the law here, not even Mahdi. Not you either, mister. You had better
tell me who put you up to this before I decide what the charges are. Kidnapping . . .
assault. This list will grow every minute you make me wait.”

“It
was Commander Calla, sir. She asked me to . . . detain you until
Mahdi left.”

“Mahdi’s
gone?”

“Yes,
sir. His shuttle left hours ago.”

“And
Calla ordered you to drug me?”

“She
didn’t say what action I should take, only that you were not to return to the
station before Mahdi left. That much was explicit enough. I did obey orders,
sir.”

Jason
sat for a moment, trying to control his rage and fighting the pain in his head.
Neither would pass. “Let’s go,” he said, getting up. “Your commander has as
much to answer for as you do.”

Calla was already waiting in the sandstone staff room that
Mahdi’s entourage had vacated only hours ago, when D’Omaha came in. He walked
briskly to the table, no trace of the sleepless night in his gait. Even his
face, smooth and glowing, appeared jaunty beneath his mane of silver hair. Like
the visitors so recently departed, he’d taken drugs in place of sleep. Calla
lifted a mug of coffee to her lips, one of many she had consumed during the
long night.

“Jason’s
on his way,” D’Omaha said as he sat down.

“I
know.”

“Bad
business about the danae, worse that it couldn’t be righted with the nymphs,
though Jason must have known it was nothing more than a gamble at the onset,” D’Omaha
said. “Will he cause trouble?”

Calla
stared at him, momentarily uncertain of what he meant. Then she realized he was
referring to the hunting restrictions that Mahdi had broken and she shook her
head. “Yesterday he could have caused trouble. Today it doesn’t matter.” She
pulled a scarlet jelly bean from her breast pocket and held it up for D’Omaha
to see.

The
Praetor frowned and shook his head. “Declaring martial law is too extreme,
Calla. We can explain how the accident happened. Marmion may have already done
so.”

Calla
slipped the jelly bean back in her pocket. “You don’t understand. I’m going
after Mahdi. He’s the traitor.”

D’Omaha
smiled thinly, but his face was coloring. “Are you trying to do my job, Calla?
If so, let me point out that you’re doing it badly. Mahdi does not fit the
traitor’s profile. He is not decemvir.”

“He
wouldn’t have to be if he were the imperator general.” She looked at him. “Then
all he would need is an accomplice who’s decemvir, precisely the sort of
complication probability studies don’t deal with very well. But the rest of the
profile fits neatly, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense,”
D’Omaha said, his frown deepening until his shaggy silver brows touched. “You’re
overtired . . .”

“Not
too tired to know that Mahdi’s using elixir. Even Stairnon couldn’t help
noticing how he hasn’t aged.”

“The
clinics can do wonders,” D’Omaha said.

“Yes,
but they can’t perform miracles, to which Stairnon can attest. Mahdi was my
commander when I was a cadet, which was more than thirty years ago, yet he hasn’t
changed much. And Stairnon was right, too, when she said imperator generals don’t
go to downtime worlds. They can’t afford to lose months or years of Hub
politics.”

“Stairnon
was making conversation. She was nervous in the presence of the imperator
general. She was just trying to be polite.”

“Stairnon
is not nervous in anyone’s presence, and she’s so basically honest she probably
didn’t even notice how uncomfortable her comments made Mahdi. And didn’t you
think it very peculiar that he would be here at all when worlds are at the
verge of war back in the Hub? Unless, of course, his co-conspirator assured him
that there would be no major battles until he returned. Only a decemvir could
do that, D’Omaha. We knew that much, but we were wrong in believing he acted
alone.”

“It
would be possible,” D’Omaha admitted, “but not probable.”

“I
don’t see it that way,” Calla said stubbornly. “We expected a decemvir in
person, whose presence here would have the same delaying effect. A unanimous
decision cannot be rendered with one of them downtime. But if it’s Mahdi, it’s
even more insidious than we believed. The Decemvirate thinks it controls the
legions, but Mahdi controls the Decemvirate and the legions, and the
Decemvirate doesn’t even know. Mahdi understands power better than they do, and
he knows how to use it.”

“Ramnen
Mahdi is not a traitor,” D’Omaha said gravely. “You are as wrong about him as
you were about Jason when you believed he could not possibly love you anymore.
Probability is not your field.”

“It
doesn’t have to be for me to match the traitor to the profile. He took the
inventory of elixir with him. That was the final proof.”

“He
had authentic requisitions, even Marmion agreed that . . .”

“I
would have been disappointed if they were forged. That would make my job too
easy.”

Calla
and D’Omaha were glaring at each other when the jelly bean door attendants
chimed and said, “Ranger-Governor Jason D’Estelle wishes to join your
conference. Shall I let him in?”

Calla
had no difficulty imagining how much translation the jelly beans had done on
Jason’s real words, which she was sure were not phrased politely. She had no
wish to deal with him when he was angry, especially because it would be a
righteous anger and so distracting from the issue at hand. At last she nodded
and said, “Let him in, then assure our privacy. No more interruptions.”

“Yes,
Commander.” The door slid back and Jason reached the table in two angry steps.
His khakis were dirty with sweet smelling gore, his hair a tangle of curls.
Leaning on his fists, he bent over the table toward Calla.

“I
don’t know what in Timekeeper’s hell you thought you were doing by keeping me
away from Mahdi, but if you don’t have a red jelly bean in your pocket with
orders to take my command from me, you’re going right up on charges with him,
Gold Commander.”

“He’s
gone,” D’Omaha said.

“He
can be recalled,” Jason shouted. “And you can be locked up as both their
accomplices.” He looked back at Calla, his blue eyes rimmed with red, the
muscles in his face twitching. He didn’t have to add that he was dead serious.

Calla
reached into her pocket and placed a red jelly bean on the table between Jason’s
fists. He wasn’t surprised. He straightened and crossed his arms in front of
his chest.

“Use
it, or I’ll call the guards,” Jason said.

Calla
started to push the jelly bean toward the tank in the middle of the table.

“Calla,
don’t,” D’Omaha said. “We can explain to him.”

“You
won’t have time to explain unless she uses that jelly bean, Praetor,” Jason
said. “This is an outback planet. My word is the law here. I can have you shot . . .
shoot you myself for what you did. Willful deception. Kidnapping. Disobedience
of the ranger-governor’s express orders.”

“You
wouldn’t dare,” D’Omaha said.

But
Calla shoved the jelly bean into the tank. When it hit the liquid helium, Jason
seemed momentarily jolted, then he turned to the nearest flatscreen. Using the
digital controls, he accessed the contents of the red jelly bean. For several
minutes, he studied the display on the screen. Calla knew it hadn’t taken him
that long to read the message, but that he was using the time to get his anger
under control. At last he came back to the table. “Mutare is under martial law,”
he said trying to sound formal and calm. “Commander Calla is in charge. I suppose,”
he said sitting carefully across from Calla, “that you will not give me
permission to recall the imperator general to face charges for shooting danae
in the restricted zone.”

Calla
shrugged. “You may do as you choose in that matter,” she said.

“What?”
His knuckles were white, his face drained.

“I
know that you thought I was trying to protect the imperator general from
embarrassment when I had Marmion keep you at the Amber Forest. You can’t quite
get past believing that I cannot be who I was while I wear gold on my collar,
can you?”

“Why
then?” he said.

“Because
I had to give a traitor enough time to betray himself. You might have disturbed
it all if you’d confronted Mahdi yesterday.”

“What
traitor? Who has been betrayed, besides me?” Jason said.

His
face was so dark that Calla did not want to look at him.

“I’m
sorry, Jason. I had no time to ask Marmion how he would do it, only to order
him to keep you away. He knew why, and that was enough for him. I guess I don’t
know what else he could have done,” she said, just now wondering what she would
have done if she’d been given Marmion’s orders and was faced with an enraged
Jason.

“I’d
have shot him if I hadn’t suspected he was acting on orders,” Jason said.

“I
doubt that you had a weapon,” Calla said. “Marmion isn’t that stupid.”

He
shook his head. “You’re right. I didn’t. All right. Marmion was following
orders, and just in case I wasn’t bright enough to know it, he made sure I was
in no position to hurt him. You’ve got good people, Calla. They think even
while following orders. Now tell me why. Who is this traitor?”

“There
is no traitor,” D’Omaha said. “Not yet. We’re still waiting.”

“No,
he’s been here and gone,” Calla said firmly. “The imperator general is the
traitor.”

D’Omaha
leaned forward. “Naming that traitor is my job, the reason I am here. It is
not
Mahdi.” D’Omaha’s face was red.

“He
requisitioned the entire inventory of elixir.”

“By
the highest authority, Calla,” D’Omaha said sounding exasperated. “There are
shortages back in the Hub. You know there are. That requisition was not forged.”

“Nothing
had been done with fake jelly beans. Every single step in this entire plan has
been absolutely authentic. And that’s what makes it so insidious. We were so
certain that it had to be one of the Decemvirate because nothing was wrong,
just . . . unrecorded.” Calla shook her head as she looked at
Jason. “We’ve been worried about rebels and moles, but it’s worse than that.
Mahdi commands all the legions.”

“You
came here to trap a traitor? This isn’t just a secret installation to keep the
Decemvirate and their privileged friends supplied with elixir during the war?”
Jason asked.

“Is
that what you thought?” Calla said, disappointed.

He
said lamely, “No. At least not for long. I got to thinking that’s what it might
be when I realized it was Mahdi himself who came to see the facility. Imperator
generals don’t go downtime to make routine inspections. When it was him, I figured . . .”
He shook his head and was silent, studying her closely. “There are some things
even you wouldn’t do.” He shook his head again. “Do the legions follow Mahdi?”
he asked, his quick mind already catching up. “Or the Decemvirate’s decision?”

“Mahdi,”
Calla said.

“You’re
assuming that Mahdi will not uphold the Decemvirate’s decision, whatever it is.”

“That’s
right. The decision to redistribute was made even before I left,” Calla said. “The
Decemvirate was pretending to continue their debates because they foresaw
rebellion. They were stalling for time, hoping to stop it before it started.
This . . .” Calla gestured to the surrounding walls. “. . . establishment
was the first solid clue. It never would have been discovered but for the
tiniest oversight-that all requisitions for elixir starter seeds are routinely
scanned by one other decemvir. That limited the suspects to five of the
decemvir, the newest five who were not involved with the construction of elixir
fabrication facilities. Only those five might not know about the double check.
The other five selected me to set this trap. They explained the probabilities
to me, told me what to expect.”

“And
Mahdi doesn’t fit the profile,” D’Omaha said flatly.

“What
was the profile?” Jason said. The edge of anger was not yet gone from his
voice.

“That
the traitor was decemvir. That he would come to Mutare to be certain this
secret installation would be up and running, able to supply elixir for the
duration of the war in case regular supplies were cut off, which they surely
will be. Before leaving, the traitor would probably attempt to bribe Calla or
in some way insure her cooperation while the war was on, and short of that the
existing supply might be stolen. But Mahdi is not decemvir; he could not have
arranged this facility on his own. A decemvir did it, and even Calla admits
that it had to be a decemvir.”