To Hold Infinity (14 page)

He gestured as a control volume grew to his right, and there was a beeping sound.

A small icon appeared to float by Yoshiko's wrist: an in-basket with a sheaf of paper.

“—I've sent you what details I know. But I don't think you'll find anything there.”

“Thank you.” Yoshiko did not know what else to say.

Stargonier looked at her. “I can't think of anything more I can do to help.”

“No, you've been a big help. Thank you.”

“Er, you understand, I'll have to dissolve the contract and subcontract Tetsuo's design work to someone else?”

Yoshiko breathed out slowly. “I'm sure it's what he'd expect.”

“But I will have more work to send his way. I hope everything turns out OK.”

There was a sudden movement near the bottom of the boat, where it melded into the floor of Stargonier's office, and Yoshiko started.

A small text volume appeared.

WHAT ABOUT TETSUO'S REPLACEMENT?

Thank you, Xanthia.

Yoshiko nodded as the text faded. Stargonier had noticed nothing. The image had been directional, constructed for Yoshiko, a prompt for her eyes only.

“Can you find someone else to replace Tetsuo?”

“Well, yes.” Stargonier looked unhappy. “I'm afraid I already have, though we haven't activated the agreement yet.”

“Oh. May I ask who it is?”

“Yes. Pierre d'Androux, a local man, very successful. This is quite a small task for his group. He's really doing it as a favor.”

That didn't sound like someone desperate to get the business which Tetsuo had lined up. It certainly wasn't a likely motive for murder.

Adam Farsteen's death had not been mentioned anywhere on the NewsNets or even in Skein, according to Vin and Xanthia—so Yoshiko had better not mention it, either.

“This man, d'Androux. He owes you a favor?” she asked.

“Well, no. There was some brokerage involved. I've got to pay commission to a man called Rafael de la Vega, for finding someone with mu-space comms tech skills I can use. D'Androux owed de la Vega, so I gather.”

Yoshiko sighed. Perhaps Tetsuo's upraise sponsor, Rafael, was merely helping his protégé. Nothing suspicious in that.

Perhaps she owed a debt of gratitude to this Rafael.

“I'm sorry.” Stargonier's voice intruded. “None of this helps, does it?”

It might. She just didn't know.

“You've been very kind,” she said. “Thank you very much.”

“OK, look. If there's anything else I can do, just call me.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Good luck,” said Stargonier. “Out.”

He and his office disappeared.

Yoshiko blinked, disconcerted, as she realized she was on Xanthia's boat and had been here all the time, its gentle rocking forgotten during her conversation. There was a flash of blue by the riverbank as a kingfisher dived to feed.

“Rafael de la Vega,” said Yoshiko. “His name's come up again. But it may mean nothing.”

“That was very nicely handled.” Xanthia leaned forward in her seat. “You should have been a Luculenta.”

Yoshiko, startled, almost blushed. “Why, thank you.”

 

 

The research station was a stack of tiered concrete discs, piled up against a rocky outcrop.

Twelve days ago
, thought Tetsuo,
I was stuck in my office at home, working on Stargonier's damned protocol converter. Now look at me. A manual labourer.

Puffing, he staggered down the twisted path with a ten-litre container in each hand. The farther he walked, the heavier they seemed to grow. No pain from his earlier injuries. If only his grip were stronger…

Sweat trickled down inside his resp-mask. His forehead itched, despite the smartgel which covered all of his otherwise exposed skin.

Another klick to go. He stumbled, but caught himself before falling.

Watch it.

The narrow handles were digging grooves into his hands. He stopped for a short rest.

OK, pick 'em up. Carry on.

He almost tripped again, but recovered his stride, and continued across the caramel-coloured broken rock. The cabin was dead ahead.

He stumbled through the doorway. Panting, he lugged the containers past Brevan's door, to the feed tank's input valves. Awkwardly, he tipped the brown foul-smelling liquid out of each container in turn. Then he gratefully sealed the caps, and the stench faded.

Brevan was in his small study-bedroom, running projections of possible forced mutations in their native stock. Tetsuo leaned against the door jamb to watch.

Brevan froze the display. “Slacking off?”

“Need the rest,” said Tetsuo.

“It'll get you fit.”

“I've lost three point two seven kilos in three days.” Tetsuo wiped sweat from his face. “I'm exhausted.”

“Oh, right.” Brevan smiled. “Very precise.”

Tetsuo had spoken without thinking; the knowledge of his body-weight was an intuitive fact, another example of the changes taking place inside him. Let Brevan think he had used the lab scales to weigh himself.

“If I were to ask you about the Agrazzi,” said Tetsuo, “would that be one of the things that might make you shoot me?”

The two men who had tried to kill him were Agrazzi, but just what did that mean? A different clan, tribe, among the Shadow People?

“Depends on what you ask.” There was a glint in Brevan's eye. “Go on. Shoot.”

Tetsuo winced. “Well how many, ah, groups, cells, whatever, are there?”

“A little over two hundred,” said Brevan. “Some of the bigger septs have tens of thousands of members.”

Tens of thousands? Just among the Agrazzi? But they were just one group among the Shadow People, weren't they? One group among how many?

“How long has this movement been going on?”

“Oh, come,” said Brevan. “You've heard of the Shadow People, haven't you?”

“No,” said Tetsuo. “Or—Yes, in a bar once. Something about…Ghost Folk?”

“An old name for the movement. You thought it was all native ghost tales, I'll bet.”

“But the Ghost Folk are an old story, a century old at least.”

Brevan said nothing.

“Oh. I see.” After a pause, Tetsuo added, “So why were the Agrazzi raiding this place?”

“Ah, now.” Brevan's expression grew bitter. “Seems like those bastards have always been raiding our Simnalari camps. We've been lucky when it's just been a few animals they've stolen.”

Simnalari. So that's what Brevan and Dhana called themselves.

“The Agrazzi need the food, is that it?”

“No. Well, sometimes…Oh, hell. Look, you understand that we can only settle in the upper reaches of the hypozone?”

“That makes sense.”

At lower altitudes, extremes of temperature and pressure and wild chemistry began to dominate.

“So watch.” Brevan waved away his current display and caused a globe of Fulgor to appear. Small red blobs dotted its surface, with surrounding loops and whorls of blue. “Red represents the terraformed altitudes, and the blue shows the hypozone.”

“Five percent of the planet's surface.” The acid seas, and the hyperand epizones, were shaded in grey. No one could live there.

“Very good. Now, originally there were a hundred and fifty councils formed among the Shadow People—or Ghost Folk—as we were then all of equal status.”

“A century ago.”

“Longer,” said Brevan. “The Simnalari and Agrazzi councils were two of the original members of the Shadow League, the league of councils.”

Tetsuo did not smile at the childish name. He guessed that turmoil and violence had grown out of this league.

“It's territory, you see.” Brevan looked at the slowly rotating globeimage. “It's always been the land.”

“War?” asked Tetsuo.

“At times, yes,” said Brevan. “In the very early days, the Agrazzi sent in troopers, heavily armed by Shadow standards, and annexed all the Simnalari territory.”

There was a cloud across Brevan's features. If any of his family had suffered then, thought Tetsuo, it must have been generations ago.

“Why didn't the concept of Simnalari just disappear?” asked Tetsuo. “Why aren't you all just Agrazzi now?”

“Because they discriminated against our people, gave us the worst land, took the best of everything. Even limited the education tapes we could give to our children.”

And kept their cultural identity alive, thought Tetsuo, though a changed and twisted version of the original.

When century-old history was alive in people's minds, could violence be far away?

Tetsuo shifted uncomfortably. The atmosphere in the small room was getting warm and stuffy now, and he would have liked to peel off the smartgel and reset his jumpsuit's temperature.

He dared not break the mood. This was the first time he had seen Brevan so talkative.

“So there was an uprising,” said Tetsuo.

“Several,” Brevan replied. “The fourth one succeeded. Then we made peace.”

The image zoomed in. Agrazzi territory, bordered by Simnalari, and a sept called Elvenari. A small Agrazzi offshoot, the Phaliborn Enclave, was entirely surrounded by Simnalari: not a happy situation.

“The Agrazzi have trouble keeping to the agreement?”

“Sometimes.” Brevan snorted. “They occasionally forget it isn't the old days.”

“And you're all dedicated to living in harmony with the planet.”

“Right,” said Brevan, with an ironic smile.

“Right.” Tetsuo lifted the empty containers. “I've got another trip to make.”

Brevan nodded, and turned back to his work.

She was here.

Rafael stood in his gleaming entrance hall, waited for the precise moment, then waved the doors open.

Maggie Brown was standing there, just opening her mouth to announce herself to the house system. Behind her, Rafael's plushest small flyer, the Lectra Seven which had brought her here, rose up from the black and grey gravelled landing area and headed for its garage.

“Nice timing,” said Maggie.

“Always.” Rafael bowed. “Welcome to my house.”

He gestured her inside, and escorted her to the room he had prepared.

A plentiful array of edibles, on warm silver plates, lay on a low table. Rafael escorted her to her seat, then sat down opposite her and crossed his legs.

“This is very nice,” said Maggie. “Is that wine I see there?”

“From our local hydroponics.” Rafael poured a glass for her. “None of your synthesized stuff.”

She accepted her glass, sipped, and closed her eyes in pleasure.

“Ah, an educated palate.” Rafael smiled. “Very good.”

“So.” Maggie put her glass down on the table. She nibbled at a savoury pastry. “Can I run through what I'd like to ask, before I start recording?”

“Of course. Whatever you like.”

“OK, just one minute.” She held up a finger.

Rafael watched, amused, as she drained her glass. He refilled it for her.

“Oh, that's good.” Maggie sipped some more. “What I'm thinking of, is to talk about Tetsuo's business, maybe from the time he arrived here. Along the lines of—” Another sip. “—of what must it be like for a guy from Earth to arrive here. A new planet. An advanced culture. Competing in business with enhanced Luculenti. What do you think?”

“Well.” Rafael leaned back. “Most of the time he'd have been dealing with Fulgidi merchants, not Luculenti.”

“OK,” said Maggie. “Mmm, this is really very good. Right, so we can talk about that. Would it be tough for him?”

“Some Fulgidi have a lot of drive. They use educational ware constantly, tactical ware to help in negotiations, and so forth. I would say yes, Tetsuo would have had a tough time.”

“Can we talk about his disappearance? How he'd been behaving for the last few days leading up to it, and so on?”

“May I top that up for you?” He poured more wine. “I'm afraid I didn't see that much of him socially, and not at all since the upraise.”

“But you don't mind my asking about it?”

Maggie drained the glass in a few gulps.

Before Rafael could offer, she reached for the bottle and poured again, sloshing a little onto the tabletop. Her hand wobbled a little as she brought the full glass to her lips.

“Ask anything you like.” Rafael was surprised she had not spilled anything down her clothes.

“Shall I start?”

“Ah—” Rafael cleared his throat. “Go ahead.”

Maggie touched her lapel, removed a small silver brooch in the shape of an owl, and placed it on the table. The eyes glowed blue as they focussed on Rafael, an indication—and legal requirement on Fulgor—that the device was recording.

“What were your first impressions of Tetsuo Sunadomari?”

“Quite an engaging young man.” Rafael smoothly hid his amusement as Maggie took the opportunity to quaff more wine. “He brought valuable technological know-how with him, and was well placed to start up in business here on Fulgor.”

“So you don't think Fulgidi tech is superior to Terran?”

“Not at all.” Rafael fielded the question easily. “I see them as quite complementary. The Skein environment itself, when it's opened to offworlders, will mean many more business opportunities. A win-win scenario, as they say.”

He paused, and Maggie had to gulp down her wine quickly to ask the next question.

“Ah, hmm, what would his day-to-day life have been like?”

There was a slight slur to her words. Rafael assumed that later editing would take care of that.

“Well, probably fewer hours working than on Earth, and a nicer quality of life. He had a villa in some rather pleasant countryside, wonderful scenery, well within the terraformed areas and perfectly safe to wander around in.”

“So his business life would have been easier?”

“Well, now. I would guess he spent less time working, but the time he did spend would have been quite challenging.” Rafael blinked disarmingly. “There's every opportunity to do well, for those who put in the effort.”

“So it's untrue that offworlders are exploited? We hear reports of Terran designs being used in novel ways, which somehow manage to avoid paying royalties.”

“I'd like to think that's never happened.” Rafael shook his head. “But that might be wishful thinking. Tetsuo, though, was doing very nicely for himself.”

Maggie quelled a slight hiccup by drinking a little more.

“Did he ever deal with LuxPrime?” she asked.

Suddenly, Rafael's senses swung to full alert.

“Not to my knowledge.”

 

[[[HeaderBegin: Module = Node10013.JK976: Type = TrinaryHyperCode: Axes = 12

Concurrent_Execute

     ThreadOne: .linkfile = House(VideoOne:visual)

     ThreadTwo: .linkfile = House(VideoTwo: IR)

     ThreadThree: .linkfile = House(OlfactoryOne)

     ThreadFour: .linkfile = House(MRIscan)

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Interfacing with his house system, Rafael zeroed in on her face.

Pupil dilation:
normal
.

At IR wavelengths, he examined the degree of bloodflow to the skin, the tautness of her musculature.

Bloodflow:
normal
.

He examined her for every sign of normal reaction to a depressant such as ethanol.

Nothing.

Clever, clever.
For an Earther.

“Tetsuo primarily dealt with the panoply of corporate entities which maintains the hardware basis for Skein,” he added, deliberately obfuscating with meaningless jargon. “Mu-space tech is used, of course, for the comms-interface gateways to other worlds.”

“And you dealt with him yourself?”

“In a sense. I was involved as a fourth level broker in some of his projects.”

“What does that mean, precisely?”

It sounded a little like
preshishely
, as though Maggie were having difficulty forming sibilants. It was quite an admirable performance.

“The levels of Fulgidi commerce are rather, ah, richly layered, and while there are some long-lived corporations, others exist for only a few fleeting minutes, or less.” Rafael strung out his meaningless reply, while he considered his next action. “It's always wise to have a guide to such a new environment, an honest broker if you will, and some of us offer our services in that fashion.”

“Did you ever have any dealings with an Adam Farsteen?”

The same name that Major Reilly had mentioned.

Rafael did not like this. There was too much going on which he did not understand.

“I don't recall the name.” While he spoke, he formed a NetAngel in Skein and sent it on its way.

“Or Sylvester Stargonier?”

“I know Mr. Stargonier. He and Elizabeth Malone and Tetsuo were engaged in a joint venture.”

“And this would have nothing to do with LuxPrime?”

“Oh, no. Nothing at all.”

The ghost-Rafael returned to him then, and dumped its information. There were three Adam Farsteens on Fulgor: one was a LuxPrime courier.

Rafael uncrossed his legs. He took a sip of his own wine.

“Perhaps we could take a break?” He leaned forward earnestly. “I'm a little fatigued.”

“Just a couple—”

The blue lights around the owl's eyes died.

“It's been very enlightening.” Rafael stood up. “This should make quite a human interest story for the folks back home.”

“That's right.” Maggie stood up as well, dropping all pretence of intoxication.

“But what about your own story?” Rafael's voice was very soft.

“How are you coping with a new culture?”

“Very enlightening, as you said.”

“And your son? Jason, I believe?”

Maggie stared at him, suddenly taut.

“That's right.”

“This must be quite an adventure for him.”

He took a step forward, smiling slightly as Maggie flinched.

“I would very much like to know you better. Perhaps we could—”

 

<<>>

 

“—extend this meeting to dinner: Or, if you like—” He queried the incoming ident. It was [[Luculenta Lavinia Maximilian, ident 6654χ8
•
{sept5ΘΞ}]]

 

<<>>

 

“—I could show you around the city—” he continued in reality, while, in Skein, he smiled a greeting to the young Luculenta before him.

She was Lavinia—known as Vin—Lori Maximilian's teenage soul-daughter.

“Hello, Luculentus de la Vega. Lori asked me to send you an invitation.”

 

<THE APHELION BALL
>>

<>

<>

 

“Why, that's very kind of you,” said Rafael in Skein. In reality, he saw Maggie looking wildly around for the door.

In Skein: “That's most gracious of Luculenta Maximilian. I would be honoured to accept.”

In reality: “Maggie, why don't we go right now?”

“That's great.” Vin's voice was cheerful. “Is Maggie Brown still with you, by the way?”

Rafael froze.

 

[[[HeaderBegin: Module = Node12A3.33Q8: Type = Quaternary-HyperCode: Axes = 256

Concurrent_Load

     ThreadOne: .linkfile = Infiltrate.Alpha

     ThreadTwo: .linkfile = Infiltrate.Beta

     ThreadThree: .linkfile = CodeSmash

     ThreadFour: .linkfile = SubvertArray

     ThreadFive: .linkfile = MindWolf

End_Concurrent_Load]]]

 

He loaded his vampire code, ready to tear through Skein into Vin's young mind. Remote infiltration was a risk he had never taken before. But if she knew this much—

 

<<>>

 

In Skein, he smiled with all his charm.

“Yes. Maggie's with me. How did you know?”

“She mentioned it to Xanthia Delaggropos, and to Lori.”

Damn. Damn it to hell.

Rafael quivered inside. With the infiltration code loaded, it was all he could do to contain it.

To Vin, he said, “I believe our interview is concluded. I was just about to send her back to her hotel.”

“OK, I'll tell Lori. She's around here in person, someplace.”

But not in Skein, where she would be vulnerable to Rafael.

“Please thank her for the invitation. I look forward to seeing you there.”

In Skein, he bowed, then closed the SkeinLink.

 

<<>>

 

“Well.” In reality, he smiled to Maggie. “Looks like you've made some friends already. I just told Lavinia Maximilian you're heading back to your hotel. Is that OK?”

Maggie looked at him for a long moment.

“That's very kind of you.”

“I'll see you out.”

Maggie drained her glass of wine, and stood up. She stumbled slightly, then looked him straight in the eyes.

“Oops. That wine's strong stuff.”

“Some of us,” said Rafael, “are less affected than others.”

“A misspent youth.”

They walked in silence to the main doors. Rafael's automated flyer was waiting for her on the gravelled pad.

Maggie shook hands, and her grip was strong.