Brain Ships Part 33

"No, sir."

The gray-eyed man nodded briskly. "Good. I didn't think so, but one has to be sure. You want to track down the people who framed you, then."

"More than that." Sev dropped his eyes. "I think I know who framed me. And why. But it's a long story, and there are High Families involved. That's why I came to you, sir. Somebody without that background might be tempted to shove everything under the carpet for fear of offending someone powerful. And of those in Central Administration who are High Families-well-" He spread his hands helplessly. "I don't know the lineages and their reputations. The only two people whose integrity everyone is absolutely sure of are you and General Questar-Benn-and she's on some kind of secret a.s.signment, n.o.body would tell me where."

"How flattering," purred the gray-eyed man.

Belatedly, Sev realized the implications of his words. "Sir. I didn't mean-I am most grateful that you agreed to see me, truly I am."

"Take that as read. Now why don't you tell me what's going on?"

Sev's cheekbones reddened. His tongue felt like a wad of cotton in his mouth. Where could he begin? In this cool green-lit office, the madness that had seized him on Bahati seemed like a dream.

"There was-a girl."

"Ahh. You know, there quite often is, in such cases. And you-made a fool of yourself?" He looked at Sev sympathetically. "You know, I can can remember the urge to make a fool of oneself over a young lady. I'm not so old and dried-up as all that. But if this story is going to be personal, perhaps you'd feel easier continuing it in a less formal environment? Sometimes I go across town for lunch-there's a cafe in Darkside. Nothing fancy. But at least it gets one out of this d.a.m.ned jungle light." remember the urge to make a fool of oneself over a young lady. I'm not so old and dried-up as all that. But if this story is going to be personal, perhaps you'd feel easier continuing it in a less formal environment? Sometimes I go across town for lunch-there's a cafe in Darkside. Nothing fancy. But at least it gets one out of this d.a.m.ned jungle light."

Fifteen minutes later, feeling somewhat as if he'd actually been through the ecocycler's processing sequence, Sev and the man he'd come to see were seated at a table in the back of a cavernous, dimly lit cafe. The one window that might have admitted a little sunlight was curtained by dusty streamers of glitzribbon and prismawood light-dangles. In one corner of the room, a weedy boy with long red hair tied in a black velvet bow tinkered with his synthocom set, producing occasional bursts of strident sound that grated on Sev's eardrums.

Even his sleazy story seemed no more than normal, here. He wondered if that was why they'd come to this dingy place. It seemed an odd setting for a man who spent his working life meeting with presidents and kings and generals.

"It's quiet here," said the only honest man on Kailas, "and more to the point, I know there won't be any unauthorized datacordings made of our conversation; I'm acquainted with the proprietor of this place. She has quite a number of visitors who don't want their discussions overheard or recorded."

"I can believe it," said Sev with feeling.

"So. If that answers your curiosity about why we came here-why don't you tell me about this girl?"

"She was-" Sev stopped, swallowed, searched again for a place to begin. "She is head of a construction company based on Bahati. Their most recent contract was for a s.p.a.ce station to catch Net signals and route small-package traffic between Vega subs.p.a.ce and Central. As part of my routine duties for Bahati CreditLin, I was asked to do a final walk-through inspection of the station. It was-it should have been just a formality; the head of Contracts Administration had already signed off on the work."

"I take it," murmured the gray-eyed man, "there were, in fact, some deficiencies in the construction methods?"

"It was a joke. joke." Sev's hands moved freely and he forgot his nervousness as he sketched the discoveries he'd made. "Oh, everything looked good enough on the outside. Fresh new permalloy surface skin. Interior corridors painted and glowlit, s.h.i.+ny new sensor screens to scan the exteriors. But once I opened up a few panels and started looking at what was behind the fresh paint-" He shook his head, remembering. "She tried to distract me. No. That's not fair. She...did distract me. For a while." Three days and nights in Fa.s.sa del Parma's private cubicle on her personal transport s.h.i.+p, wheeling around the s.p.a.ce station, watching the blazing dance of the stars through the clear walls above and below and around their own dance...

Sev felt himself on fire again, remembering. And regretting. Even now, some part of him wanted nothing better than to be back on the Xanadu Xanadu with Fa.s.sa del Parma y Polo. Whatever the cost. with Fa.s.sa del Parma y Polo. Whatever the cost.

"She was...annoyed," he said slowly, "when I told her I'd have to complete the inspection according to form." He looked up at the man seated across the table, searching for a hint of condemnation in the level gray eyes. "I should have done the inspection immediately. I'd given her three days." No, she gave them to me. Three days I'll never forget. No, she gave them to me. Three days I'll never forget. "She'd had her people working overtime to conceal their cheap work. Panels behind panels. Fake safety numbers stenciled on the recycled supporting beams. Warning signs about chemical danger areas in front of the rats' nests they called an electronic system-as though that would've stopped me!" Sev snorted. "She'd had her people working overtime to conceal their cheap work. Panels behind panels. Fake safety numbers stenciled on the recycled supporting beams. Warning signs about chemical danger areas in front of the rats' nests they called an electronic system-as though that would've stopped me!" Sev snorted.

"If I I had put up signs warning of chemical dangers," the other man commented, "I would have made sure that you did indeed run into such dangers the first time you removed a panel. Nothing fatal, of course. Certainly nothing really nasty, like gaseous Ganglicide. Maybe a little sinoidal stimulant. Or Capellan fungus spores." had put up signs warning of chemical dangers," the other man commented, "I would have made sure that you did indeed run into such dangers the first time you removed a panel. Nothing fatal, of course. Certainly nothing really nasty, like gaseous Ganglicide. Maybe a little sinoidal stimulant. Or Capellan fungus spores."

"She thought of that," said Sev grimly. "So, unfortunately for her, did I...I wore a chem-pro suit and gas mask while I checked out the electronics."

"And?"

"The place never should have pa.s.sed the most cursory inspection," Sev said tonelessly. "It didn't didn't pa.s.s mine. I transmitted a full report via the Net-enough to stop payment on the s.p.a.ce station and put Polo Construction under investigation. The lady was, ummm-not pleased when I told her what I'd done." A reminiscent smile tugged at one corner of his mouth and he rubbed absentmindedly at the four parallel scratches under his right ear. Nothing more than the faint memory of scars now, but the lines still tingled whenever he thought of Fa.s.sa. Being clawed by Fa.s.sa del Parma wasn't nearly as much fun as the things they'd done on the pa.s.s mine. I transmitted a full report via the Net-enough to stop payment on the s.p.a.ce station and put Polo Construction under investigation. The lady was, ummm-not pleased when I told her what I'd done." A reminiscent smile tugged at one corner of his mouth and he rubbed absentmindedly at the four parallel scratches under his right ear. Nothing more than the faint memory of scars now, but the lines still tingled whenever he thought of Fa.s.sa. Being clawed by Fa.s.sa del Parma wasn't nearly as much fun as the things they'd done on the Xanadu, Xanadu, but it was still a remarkably stimulating experience. Even now, Sev reckoned he would rather have a fight with Fa.s.sa than party with any six other girls of his acquaintance. but it was still a remarkably stimulating experience. Even now, Sev reckoned he would rather have a fight with Fa.s.sa than party with any six other girls of his acquaintance.

Not that the opportunity was likely to come his way again....

"You said your report should have shut down the s.p.a.ce station," his companion prompted gently. "Instead...?"

"d.a.m.ned if I know." Sev spread his hands. "When I got back planetside, my report was gone. All my files had been erased by some freak computer malfunction, and n.o.body had bothered to copy it to a datahedron first...or so they said. And I was up on charges of s.e.xual hara.s.sment. Specifically, failing to complete a scheduled inspection, and threatening Fa.s.sa del Parma y Polo with a bad inspection report if she didn't comply with my perverted desires."

"She got there first," the other man murmured.

"She's fast," Sev admitted grudgingly. "And smart. And...well, it doesn't matter. Not now." I'll never get back on the I'll never get back on the Xanadu Xanadu now. And if I did, she'd nail me to a wall and flay me. Slowly. now. And if I did, she'd nail me to a wall and flay me. Slowly.

"It was her word against mine, no evidence on either side. Or so my supervisor told me. A second inspection, a second honest honest inspection, would have found the same flaws I detailed in my report. But they weren't going to send me, not after her complaints. And while they were waffling around looking for somebody else with the technical background to do the inspection, Senator Cenevix pushed a special bill through his committee. He's in charge of the Ethics Committee," Sev explained. "This bill made second inspections in the same cla.s.s as trying a man twice for the same crime-placed a construction company under the protection of the old double jeopardy rule. So we weren't allowed to go back and collect the evidence. inspection, would have found the same flaws I detailed in my report. But they weren't going to send me, not after her complaints. And while they were waffling around looking for somebody else with the technical background to do the inspection, Senator Cenevix pushed a special bill through his committee. He's in charge of the Ethics Committee," Sev explained. "This bill made second inspections in the same cla.s.s as trying a man twice for the same crime-placed a construction company under the protection of the old double jeopardy rule. So we weren't allowed to go back and collect the evidence. Then Then the letters started coming-about me gambling at the Pair-a-Dice-and, well, you know the rest of it." the letters started coming-about me gambling at the Pair-a-Dice-and, well, you know the rest of it."

"What I don't know, though, is what you expect me to do about it. You've said you don't want me to get you reinstated at Bahati CreditLin-and I think that's a good idea; if you went back to the Nyota ya Jaha system, I don't think your life would be worth much. And you must know Central doesn't interfere with other worlds' internal legislative affairs. If this young lady has bribed a senator, that's most deplorable, but we must wait for the people of Bahati to recognize the fact and remove him by due electoral process."

"Not," said Sev grimly, "if I can get incontrovertible evidence of what she's been up to."

"My dear boy, you'll never get close to a Polo Construction job again. From what you've told me, I'm quite sure she's too bright to let you anywhere near her operations."

"True," Sev agreed, "I haven't a chance of catching her now. And there aren't many investigators-male or female-whom I'd guarantee to be immune to Fa.s.sa's, umm, methods of distraction." He paused for a moment of brief, intense, almost painful memory. "Maybe none," he concluded, opening his eyes again. "But a brains.h.i.+p would be safe enough, don't you think?" haven't a chance of catching her now. And there aren't many investigators-male or female-whom I'd guarantee to be immune to Fa.s.sa's, umm, methods of distraction." He paused for a moment of brief, intense, almost painful memory. "Maybe none," he concluded, opening his eyes again. "But a brains.h.i.+p would be safe enough, don't you think?"

"Tell me," said the gray-eyed man, "exactly what you have in mind." He hadn't moved by so much as the flicker of an eyelash, but Sev could sense the suddenly heightened interest. He outlined his plan, accepted several corrections and emendations to the basic strategy, and all but held his breath with hope and excitement. It had been a long shot, coming to this man, and one he hadn't really expected to pay off.

"I think it can be done," was the final verdict. "I think it should be done. And I do believe I can arrange it."

"Then it only remains to find a brains.h.i.+p capable of carrying out the plan."

"Any Courier Service s.h.i.+p would be capable. capable." There was a hint of reproof in the level, pa.s.sionless voice. "But we can do better than that. You want integrity, brains, diplomatic skills, and the ability to pa.s.s as a drones.h.i.+p. There's one s.h.i.+p fairly recently commissioned-about five years-that should suit your purposes. I can guarantee her personal integrity, you see, and that's what is most important in this operation. For the rest-" a brief, ironic smile that puzzled Sev-"well, let's just say I've been following this particular s.h.i.+p's career with some interest."

He stood, and Sev followed suit. As they pa.s.sed the music platform, the synthocommer broke into a raucous burst of primitive melody-annoying, far too loud, but with a compelling rhythm behind the raw sounds. Sev rather liked it, but his companion closed his eyes and shuddered faintly.

"I apologize," he said as the door closed behind them, "for the music. It's not one of the cafe's attractions, in my opinion. Still, it is the other reason why I come here."

Sev frowned in puzzlement.

"You'd think a young man of High Families stock, with a good education and a family eager to help him get started in a worthwhile profession, could find some better career than playing synthocom in a dusty bar on the wrong side of town, wouldn't you?"

It was clearly a rhetorical question. Sev nodded his head in agreement.

"So," said the only honest man on Kailas, "so would I. But evidently my son is of a different opinion."

CHAPTER NINE.

Rahilly, Nancia's CS supervisor, ordered her to take it easy while she was getting used to the hyperchip implants. "Cruise back to Central and take your time about it," he ordered her. "You'll have several a.s.signments to pick from when you get here, but there's nothing urgent and no reason for you to strain yourself with too many Singularity transitions while you're getting up to speed with your new capabilities." So Nancia chose a lengthy return route that required only one very small transition through Singularity, while she reveled in the enhanced clarity and speed of thought she enjoyed wherever the hyperchips had been installed.

After the jump she was inclined to grumble at the caution displayed by the Courier Service.

"That was the best jump I've ever made," she told Caleb. "Did you feel how cleanly I ripped that dive into Central subs.p.a.ce?"

"Ripped a dive?" Caleb inquired.

Nancia realized that in all their time together, she'd never discussed how she felt about Singularity, or mentioned the Old Earth-style athletic metaphors that came to her when she was diving through decomposing three-s.p.a.ce. "It's...a term athletes use," she explained. "There were some newsbytes of the Earth Olympics once...anyway. I just meant it was a perfectly wonderful jump. Don't you think so?"

"It was over faster than most," Caleb allowed. "Let's see what our next a.s.signment is."

They had a choice of three, but as soon as Nancia scanned the beam she knew there was only one she wanted to take. A brains.h.i.+p was needed for an undercover a.s.signment investigating the methods of BLEEP Construction Company on planet in the star system CENSORED. The matter must be handled with extreme discretion; details would be available only to the brains.h.i.+p accepting the a.s.signment.

"Two weeks travel. One major Singularity point. I bet I know where it is," Nancia said.

"That could describe any number of routes," Caleb pointed out.

"Yes, but..." Nancia created a pattern of dancing lightstrings on her central panel. She would have been willing to bet her four years' acc.u.mulated pay and bonuses that at least one of the spoiled brats she'd carried out to the Nyota ya Jaha system was implementing the plans she'd discussed. Fa.s.sa del Parma y Polo. Polo Construction. Bahati. Hadn't there been something on the newsbytes about a delay in financing the new s.p.a.ce station off Bahati, some question about the inspection?...It had to be Fa.s.sa's company. And here, at last, was Nancia's chance to stop one of the unethical little beasts. "Caleb, let's take this one. I like it."

Caleb sniffed disapprovingly. "Well, I don't. Undercover-that's next door to espionage. Vega Ethical Code considers it the same thing, in fact. I didn't sign on to Courier Service to become a dirty, sneaking spy spy." He made the word sound obscene. "And look at this." He overrode Nancia's pattern of dancing lights to display a copy of the a.s.signment description on the central screen. A laser pointer highlighted the wait-code inconspicuously marked on the top left corner of the message header. "See that? Somebody specifically routed this a.s.signment to us, even if it meant waiting three weeks for us to come back from Spica subs.p.a.ce by the longest route. With a little checking the Net we could probably find out who-no, that would be unethical," Caleb conceded with a small sigh. "But I don't like it, Nancia. Smells of High Families meddling and pulling strings. I think we ought to take one of the other two a.s.signments. Something that's presented in a straightforward manner, something we can do without compromising our integrity."

But even Caleb couldn't work up much enthusiasm for their other two choices.

The first, they were warned, might be a relatively long-term a.s.signment. A s.h.i.+p was required to transport the Planetary Technical Aid inspection committee on its five-yearly rounds, remaining at each planet while the committee inspected the situation and prepared a report.

"I guess there are worse ch.o.r.es," he said. "And maybe it wouldn't take so long. If they do this trip every five years, the last inspection s.h.i.+p should have been coming back just before you were commissioned. Want to check the records and find out how long the round trip took?"

Nancia began checking the Courier Service's open records while Caleb studied the third a.s.signment choice. "Taking a bull to Cor Caroli subs.p.a.ce? This is a Courier Service a.s.signment?"

"Improving agriculture," Nancia suggested, and then, "but they can't be serious. Surely all we'd have to take out is a sperm sample."

But it turned out, when they checked, that n.o.body had ever successfully taken a sperm sample from Thunderbolt III, the prize bull buffalo of the Central Worlds Zoo. And since the only surviving cow buffalo was on Cor Caroli VI, and since the zoo keeper there claimed Shaddupa suffered from terrible Singularity stress and couldn't possibly handle s.p.a.ceflight, the preservation of the species required that Thunderbolt III be transported to Cor Caroli VI.

"I think even a PTA committee would be better company than Thunderbolt Three," Caleb commented. "Nancia, isn't there any CS record of how long the previous inspection tour lasted?"

"I just found it," Nancia told him. She'd had to check through more years of records than she antic.i.p.ated.

"And?"

"And they should be returning some time next year. They're still out in Deneb subs.p.a.ce. I've been reading the interim reports. It seems the PTA bylaws prohibit the inspection committee from leaving any planet until they have all agreed to and signed the report for that planet."

"And?"

This time Nancia did sigh. "Caleb, it's a committee. committee."

Three hours later Sevareid Bryley-Sorensen d'Aquino came aboard to explain his plan in detail.

"I don't like the paint job," Nancia complained when the retrofitting was done.

Caleb glared at her control panel. She wished he would turn around and look at her central column, now hidden behind fake bulkheads. "It was your idea to travel under false colors. Don't complain now."

"It's not being disguised as an OG s.h.i.+pping drones.h.i.+p I mind," Nancia said. "It's Darnell's choice of colors. Puce and mauve, ugh!"

That wasn't quite true. She did mind the OG s.h.i.+pping logos stenciled on her sides; it gave her a creepy feeling to know that strangers would look at her and see part of Darnell Overton-Glaxely's rapidly growing empire. But she wasn't about to admit that to Caleb, not after arguing so hard to convince him that they should take the a.s.signment.

Sev Bryley's plan had been simplicity itself. Fa.s.sa del Parma seduced men when she needed to, but she was economical with herself as with all Polo Construction's resources: very few strangers were allowed close enough to the construction company's operations to become any sort of a threat. Her workers were fanatically loyal to her- "Let's not discuss that part," Caleb had interrupted Sev at this point. "It's not fit for Nancia to hear."

"I believe," Sev said carefully, "that their loyalty is purchased by stock options and high financial bonuses. Not to mention the fact that a number of them are rumored to be wanted by Central under other IDs; somebody seems to be doing a fine business in supplying Fa.s.sa with fake Net ident.i.ties for her workers."

Polyon. Nancia remembered the ease and dexterity with which he'd hacked into the Net accounts via her own computer. And that had been five years before. He was probably much, much better at it now. She could tell Sev Bryley where to look for the Net forger...or just drop him a hint. A hint might be enough for this determined young man; look how quickly he'd dredged up the connection between Polo Construction and OG s.h.i.+pping, the very basis for their hastily executed plan. Nancia remembered the ease and dexterity with which he'd hacked into the Net accounts via her own computer. And that had been five years before. He was probably much, much better at it now. She could tell Sev Bryley where to look for the Net forger...or just drop him a hint. A hint might be enough for this determined young man; look how quickly he'd dredged up the connection between Polo Construction and OG s.h.i.+pping, the very basis for their hastily executed plan.

Fa.s.sa's business required heavy transport facilities. For the most part Polo Construction ran their own s.h.i.+ps, but when she had too many contracts Fa.s.sa rented drones.h.i.+ps from OG s.h.i.+pping. The drones were the safest way for her to transport illicitly acquired materials; there would be no witnesses except her own men, loading materials at one end, and the customer's men unloading at the other end of the run. Neither would be inclined to bear witness against a system that brought them so much profit.

Sev had worked out all this from a combination of studying partial Net records, interviewing anybody with even casual interest in Polo Construction, and putting the bits together with his own flashes of brilliant insight. He lacked just one thing: the testimony of an unimpeachable eyewitness to confirm his deductions. Somebody needed to see see the subst.i.tution of materials going on...somebody whose integrity could not be questioned... somebody who could get close to operations without warning Fa.s.sa. the subst.i.tution of materials going on...somebody whose integrity could not be questioned... somebody who could get close to operations without warning Fa.s.sa.

The integrity of Courier Service brains.h.i.+ps was beyond question. And Fa.s.sa, accustomed to the services of the patient, silent, brainless OG drones.h.i.+ps, would hardly suspect that behind painted bulkheads and empty loading docks there resided a human brain with the sensor capacity to hear and see all that went on aboard the s.h.i.+p...and the intelligence to testify about it later.

"It's a brilliant plan," Nancia declared when Sev first explained it.

"I don't like it," Caleb glowered. "Sending Nancia out alone-without me to tell her how to do things? What if she panics?"

"I won't panic." Nancia made her voice as calm and soothing as possible.

"And I'll be with her," Sev pointed out "I won't risk coming out where they can see me, but I'll track everything via Nancia's sensor screens and send her cues if she needs help."

Caleb folded his arms. "That," he said grimly, "is not a satisfactory solution. Why can't I go too? I'm her brawn. I should be wherever she is."

"Minimizing the risks," Sev said briefly. Actually, his original plan had called for the brains.h.i.+p to go completely unattended, just like a drone. But he was d.a.m.ned if he would miss out on the culmination of his careful plans. He trusted himself to have the self-control to stay out of sight until Fa.s.sa had completely incriminated herself; he didn't trust Caleb to display the same good sense. But explaining all that would hardly mollify the brawn.

Caleb appealed directly to Nancia. "You're too young," he said. "You're too innocent. You won't recognize their dirty tricks until too late. You-"

"Caleb." Sev Bryley's voice cracked like a gunshot. The brawn stopped his compulsive pacing around the narrow perimeter of the remodeled cabin. "You aren't helping Nancia," Sev said once he had Caleb's attention. "Don't make her nervous. Why don't you go to the s.p.a.ceport bar and have a drink? I'll join you as soon as Nancia and I have run through her final checklist of instructions."

Caleb opened his mouth for an angry retort and then shut it again. Nancia wished she had a sensor that could report on the rapid ticking of his brain. He was thinking something behind that quiet, tight-lipped exterior-but what?

"Consumption of intoxicating beverages is against the Vega Ethical Code," Caleb said at last, and Nancia relaxed connections that she hadn't realized were so tight. Whatever Caleb's thoughts, they weren't leading him into a fight with Sev that would very likely abort the mission at this late date. "I'll, I'll, I could have a vegosqueeze, though."

"You do that, then," Sev agreed. "See you in a few minutes."

He leaned against a fake bulkhead, arms folded. The temporary wall squeaked in protest and Sev straightened up quickly. "Crummy construction job they did on your interior," he remarked as Caleb's footsteps echoed down the central stairs.

"Then it should m-match the rest of the work around P-Polo Construction." Where had that stammer come from? Nancia ordered her vocal circuits to relax. They only tightened up farther, making the next sentence come out in a squeak. "What final checklist?"

"What? Hmm? Oh, there isn't one. I just wanted to get Caleb out of the way. He was making you nervous, wasn't he?"

"I'm fine," Nancia said, this time more gruffly than she had intended.

"You'll need to get better control over your vocal registers if you want to sound like a dronetalker," Sev warned. "Drones' synthesized voices don't wobble."

He sank to the cabin floor, long legs folding under him with no apparent strain, and gazed at the fake wall concealing Nancia's t.i.tanium column. "Undercover work is always a strain," he confided. "I used to do half an hour of yoga meditation before taking on a false ident.i.ty."

Nancia rapidly scanned her data banks. Apparently yoga yoga was an old-style Earth exercise designed to induce tranquility and spiritual enlightenment. was an old-style Earth exercise designed to induce tranquility and spiritual enlightenment.