Visions of Liberty Part 10

Arina took the boxes from her and put them on the ma.s.sive desk situated in the corner. "Open them, tell me what's gone."

"I don't need to. . . ." Her hand covered her mouth. "It was an emeraldcherengata , very rare."

Flynn blinked. "You had acherengata ?"

"Sam gave it to me as a present when we arrived here on Apogea. I don't know, didn't know, its history; that piece's history. I mean, I know that when the Zsytzii overran the Jirandik worlds, the Jirandi ransomed themselves by giving up these heirlooms. But, you know, not all of them did. Some had been sold before and, many, you know, after the Zsytzii war was settled. Sam said it was one of those, that the provenance was data-perfect on it."

The priest looked over at Arina. "Would Fonteneau steal something to right a wrong?"

She s.h.i.+fted her shoulders uneasily. "For the challenge of saying he had been to Apogea and come away with a prize, certainly. Acherengata would still go for a great deal on the open market. It would be just like him to take only that one piece. And the mandibles, just to prove where he'd gotten thecherengata ."

Veronika hugged her arms around herself. "Will you catch him?"

"The thief? He's dead. His murderer? I don't know." Arina smiled. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, though, Mrs. Abrams. Fonteneau had to work very hard to get here. I doubt there is anyone else who could manage the deception it took, especially as Covenant will modify procedures to prevent a recurrence. We will keep you informed of how the investigation is going. With any luck at all we should be able to return yourcherengata to you."

"Thank you, Arina." The woman smiled. "I hope I won't just see you in your official capacity. I have understood your wanting time alone, but there can be too much of that. When we invited you to dinner, we weren't just being polite. On a world where people buy their way into paradise, spending time with who earned it is very dear."

Arina nodded. "I, ah . . . thank you. I'm slowly returning to the world and I appreciate your concern. I wanted to visit. I got as far as your door, but turned away. Your invitation, it was just too soon for me."

"That was understood, Arina, but the invitation is yet open. While you are in the City, we shall get time to visit, your work allowing. And you as well, Father. I was raised Catholic and have lapsed since being here. I'd offer to let you hear my Confession, but the things I have seen would give you a stroke."

"It's not the things you've seen, Mrs. Abrams, but what you've been doing while you've seen them that would be const.i.tuting sin." The priest smiled. "If you feel the need, while I am here, I would be pleased to be of service."

"I shall bear that in mind, Father, thank you."

Arina and Father Flynn caught public transport back to her apartment in the City, and Captain Lavaryn soon joined them. The two safety officers synched their datapads and then set about reviewing all they had learned. Both of them characterized it as a great deal, but lamented it still did not tell them terribly much.

David Holcomb was positively identified as Stephen Fonteneau, according to files Covenant pulled in from Commonwealth computers. How he had gotten to Apogea remained unclear, but a David Holcomb had applied for work and had been accepted, then had died in an accident. Fonteneau had somehow discovered Holcomb's misfortune and had exploited it. Because no one knew how he'd done that, the possibility that others might be present under an a.s.sumed ident.i.ty could not be discounted.

Fis.h.i.+ng was soon forgotten as hours became days of sifting evidence, formulating conjectures, finding facts to support or destroy a theory. Witnesses were interviewed again, follow-up questions narrowed the gaps in the known information. The solution to the murder lay tantalizingly close, they could feel it, but proved as elusive as Apogea's trout.

The presence of blackout chips was beyond dispute. Covenant's a.n.a.lysis showed they were not so sophisticated that they couldn't be manufactured right there on Apogea, fabricated from parts taken out of existing machines. Apogea safety services were having no luck tracking the distribution of the things, nor in locating the parties where the hidden met; but they felt confident they'd get a break on that angle soon. As rumors spread of the devices, all manner of folks wandered around, snooping, looking to play detective and beat the safety services at their own game, or to join the rebels who gathered to enjoy themselves.

After a week of sifting through interviews conducted in the neighborhood of Park's curio shop, the mountains of evidence that had been gathered, and applying her knowledge of criminal activity, Arina had come up with a simple theory of the case. Park's shop had not been very popular-virtually no one in the area had been in it or had seen Park. His background indicated he was a small-time merchant and she suspected that, under another name, he'd been a fence. He applied for and got pa.s.sage to Apogea, either at Fonteneau's request or in seeking to hide from authorities and enemies.

Once on Apogea, he and Fonteneau met each other. Fonteneau had come for thecherengata . He arranged with Park to smuggle the loot off the world, since Park had no connection with the Abramses.

Once the theft had been discovered, Fonteneau would have known that he'd be questioned, since the only sure way the thief would have known thecherengata was in the City would have been if he'd seen it on Veronika.

They pinpointed the robbery as having taken place three weeks before the murder, right after the last visit the Abramses had paid to Cuisine Rigel. Veronika remembered having worn thecherengata that night. She also recalled a discussion with their guests about all just going back to the apartment, changing into traveling clothes, and heading down to the hunting lodge. They had talked about not needing to drag anything along, since the lodge was informal and relaxed. Veronika had blushed over the fact that she treated servants as if they were invisible, providing Fonteneau with all the information he needed to accomplish his goal.

Arina a.s.sumed that after the theft, Fonteneau had given thecherengata to Park, then later changed his mind about having Park smuggle it away. They had a falling out, Park killed Fonteneau, then fled from Apogea. She did allow that it was possible that Park remained on the world, hiding himself with blackout chips, but if that were the case eventually he would be caught.

Deana Thompson's decision to prematurely terminate her contract and leave Apogea caused them to take another look at her. A discreet search of her apartment turned up nothing. She was allowed to leave and the general sentiment about her situation induced Covenant to not only pay her the bonus for which she had contracted, but to increase it.

At the s.p.a.ceport, Arina and Lavaryn ushered him past immigration control, noting with a laugh that their methods had been singularly unsuccessful in stopping Park. "If you see him, Dennis, please let someone know."

Flynn nodded, standing in that limbo between Immigration and the departure lounge for the shuttle up to the orbital station. "Just as well he got away in one minor sense. Without a government, you'd be having a hard time trying him for murder. You'd exile him, which seems little punishment for his crime."

"G.o.d exiled Adam and Eve from Eden to punish them."

"But they weren't murderers."

"Cain was, and G.o.d made him wander the Earth forever." Arina smiled. "And Cain was the father of us all."

"True enough. That seed of evil might be in all of us, but perhaps your situation here doesn't nurture it.

The lack of want might not be the lack of temptation, but it does seem to do away with much of it." Flynn drew Arina into a hug. "G.o.d be with you, my dear. Don't be working too hard."

Arina pulled back and smiled. "Thank you, Dennis. I am tired, but I needed this. I'll be more than ready to hang up the harness when this business is done, but for the moment it's good to remember who I was before . . ."

"I know, Rina. It's good to have you back." He shook hands with the Zsytzii. "Now, Captain Lavaryn, I expect you to be taking good care of her."

"We treasure our mentor." The Zsytzii smiled as two of his juniors hugged Arina's legs. "We have learned much, and will learn more, much more."

"Very good, the both of you. All luck and peace." Flynn plucked a small bag from one of the juniors.

"Now, the lot of you, get back to work. I'll expect to hear how it turned out."

"You will, Dennis, you will." Arina waved to him, then retreated with the Zsytzii brood out of the building.

Father Flynn shouldered his bag and entered the departure lounge. He set his bag down on a bench, sparing only a brief nod in the direction of an amorous couple over in the corner. Before he could seat himself, however, a woman approached him, slowly drawing down the hood of her cloak.

Flynn let the surprise fully register on his face. "You ought not to be here, Mrs. Abrams."

She raised her wrist and tapped the blackout device. "As far as Covenant knows, I'm not." She withdrew a small velvet-covered box from within her cloak and pressed it into his hands. "You will see to it that this gets back to its rightful owners."

"Of course."

"Thank you. I couldn't bear to keep thecherengata when I knew how it had been stolen." Veronika shook her head. "I would have sent it back directly, but Sam, he's so funny about that sort of thing. He thrills in shaving deals on the dark side of things, taking risks like that. To give this back would suggest he was wrong in having bought it in the first place. He didn't mind it being stolen back away from him. He greatly enjoyed the daring nature of the theft, and that the thief had done the impossible just to take something fromhim . It meant he was still important. He pretty much chortled about the theft, and has been alive planning how to secure things in the future."

Flynn nodded. "And since Covenant knows you don't want stolen pieces as gifts, your husband will not have the opportunity to buy same from now on."

"Right."

"It will be my pleasure to get this back to the Jirandicheren to whom it belonged." He gave her a smile.

"Thank you for setting this all in motion. Arina needed this. After her husband's death, she wondered if she had somehow lost her edge, and that's why he died. She needed time to mourn, and then she needed to be reminded that she is good, she's strong, she's smart. Working on this whole theft and murder might have exhausted her physically, but she's so alive mentally, well, it's good to see. Wonderful."

"I agree, Father."

"Excuse me, Father, would you want some help with your bag? We'll be boarding, soon."

The priest turned and smiled at the man from the corner. "Despite your looking a fair sight more alive than when last I saw you, Mr. Fonteneau, I'm thinking Miss Thompson there will be more appreciative of your help than I will."

"Father, that was just a brain-dead clone they made to kill, not me."

"I know, Stephen, I know." The priest s.h.i.+vered. "That was the nastiest bit of this deception, cloning you to kill. Now, your Miss Thompson, she's forgiven you the dying?"

"Nothing to forgive, Father. I knew he wasn't dead all along." Deana slipped her arm through Fonteneau's. "When Covenant weighed the two problems of Mrs. Abrams needing to get rid of the cherengata without incurring her husband's wrath, and Arina Gadja's need for redemption of her self-esteem, it came up with this plan, built out of pieces of Arina's past. It hired me, an actress, to play the part of Stephen's lover. That we actually fell for each other made things that much more convincing.

Covenant saw having an innocent led to believe her lover had died as being harmful, hence I was brought in to act the part."

Fonteneau raised an eyebrow. "Of course, she knew she was looking for me before I knew of her, but it worked. I'm glad I came because when Covenant located me, I'd been hidden away good. I'd gone straight you know, Father, after escaping. Here I got the chance to use my skills for good, got a new ident.i.ty and records expunged in the real world, and love to boot."

Veronika smiled. "And Regan Park never existed, so the hunt for him can continue, as will the searches for the sources of the blackout chips. A little rebellion is good for people, gives them things to think about, talk about, and keeps the world alive for people who thrive on intrigues. The hint of danger is all we need."

The priest's eyes narrowed. In many ways, it seemed, Arina's game a.n.a.logy had not been far off. The will of the people determined the direction in which Covenant would allow things to flow. The computer did not govern or control, but encouraged and facilitated harmony with the will of Apogea's people.

Despite the complexity of society's needs, the balance was maintained and the world's community flourished.

"Anything beyond a hint of danger is probably more than folks here desire, and with good reason." Flynn smiled, then leaned in and kissed Veronika on the cheek. "Fortunately, the serpents in this garden all seem benign. Enjoy the peace that brings you, and know how lucky you are.

Pakeha

by Jane Lindskold

Ambrose Kidd, an old Kiwi sailor who remembered those days, was the first to tell Faelin about Aotearoa, yarning over a tankard of winter ale in a San Francisco pub. This was back when Faelin-an orphan of twelve-was still lying about his age to get a job clearing tables and such in a bar.

"Maybe if we hadn't been so spoiled then," the old salt would always begin, "we could've kept things the way they were, but we were spoiled-telephone, the Internet, cruise s.h.i.+ps, jet airplanes-New Zealand weren't just a bunch of volcanic islands off the hither side of Australia; we were part of the first world. It might make you laugh, but tourism was a major part of our economy. Anybody with enough money could reach New Zealand in less than a day.

"Most folks skipped out when they saw what the petroleum virus was doing. You born-since can't imagine what that virus meant. Seems like just about everything then had petroleum by-products in it. Not just the obvious stuff like fuel and plastics, but clothing, medicines, even food was full of the stuff. h.e.l.l, I ain't telling anything you haven't heard before, son."

He wasn't, either. Faelin had heard stories like this a million times before. What fascinated him was where the story went from here. The New Zealanders had taken a novel approach to the crisis. While most nations strove to keep things as much the same as possible-laying new, untainted cables for telegraph and telephone for example-New Zealand's remaining population resolved to make a radical change.

"I remember my folks talking about it," Kidd went on. "Lady name of Christine Pesh had the idea, as I recall. Bright lady, fancied for prime minister if the oil bugs hadn't got loose. In a way, that makes it odd she should come up with such a plan, but then again, as they tell it, she'd always been one of those who contrary to reason-given they make their money outta government-think that a government that governs least governs best."

Faelin laughed and scooped up the old man's tankard, replacing it with another, filled while the boss's back was turned.

"Sounds to me," he commented, swiping circles on the tables with a dirty rag, "like this Christine Pesh was just lazy."

Ambrose Kidd snorted. "Not at all. It's harder work to make folk think for themselves than to think for 'em. Anyhow, Christine Pesh proposed-and got her proposal out while the communication system was still working pretty well-that government be phased out. She argued that those Kiwis who remained would have enough to do keeping mutton and fish on the table without supporting deadbeat politicians. I don't know how she managed it-remember, son, I was younger than you are now when this happened-but she got her measure pa.s.sed."

Faelin was California born and bred. He'd heard of wilder schemes, but he knew how governments worked.

"Seems like someone would have appealed," he said.

"There were those who tried," Kidd agreed, "but Pesh and her cronies told 'em there was no government anymore to listen to their appeal. Meantime, while these pro-government factions bl.u.s.tered and debated-'cause they couldn't even agree among themselves which way thingsshould be run, if they got government started again-the petroleum virus kept chewing away at stuff. Telephone failed.

Computers flashed nonsense and died-lord how I cried when I couldn't get my games to run! Cars and trucks-all of which needed petroleum to go and even if they hadn't were so full of plastic parts that they crumpled up . . ."

"Just like here," Faelin interrupted, knowing he was being rude, but eager to hear the real story.

"That's right," Kidd said, thin lips shaping the half smile of an old man who realizes that the great events of his life are dull fodder to the eager young. "And so Pesh got her way. There were some riots, but most of those who disagreed simply got on s.h.i.+ps and left. Most, I hear, got only as far as Australia, where they found more government than anyone could want-but that's another tale.

"You're wanting to hear about New Zealand, or Aotearoa as they renamed it, saying that since the nation was certainly new but had nothing to do with Zeeland-some Dutch place, I recall-they might as well go back to the old Maori name for the land. Prettier, too, means something like Land of the Long White Cloud."

Faelin nodded encouragingly. The boss didn't care if he chatted up the customers during these slow hours, not so long as he worked while he did so and the customers kept drinking.

"There were a couple of towns.h.i.+ps," Kidd went on, "Christ Church was one, I recall, that experimented with government. Problem was, it's hard to run a government when n.o.body except you is playing by the rules, sorta like playing soccer when three-quarters of the players insist on picking the ball up with their hands. None of those enclaves lasted more than about twenty years.

"My folks had decided to stay on in Aotearoa. They ran an inn out at Thames, augmenting their business with salvage-lots of folk worked salvage in those days. An uncle offered to take me on his s.h.i.+p as cabin boy-an island cruise, then-it'd be a while before anyone tried to go much farther than Australia. No reason or so it seemed to us."

Kidd paused, visibly swallowing down tales that covered some sixty years at sea. Faelin felt a tinge of curiosity about them, but not enough to keep him from prompting: "And the rest of the Kiwis? How did things go for them?"

"They were pretty d.a.m.n hot on their new idea, called Aotearoa the new frontier, compared it to the American West, like we used to see in the movies. Movies were . . ."

"I know, I know," Faelin said impatiently. "Iam Californian! So everyone wore guns and rode horses?"

"Well," Kidd laughed, "many did, but that wasn't why folks made the comparison-at least not the only reason. More reason was because there was no law but what folks carried in their hearts. That's still how it is today-or at least how it was when I left Aotearoa a couple years back, and I don't see why it should have changed. No law books or lawyers, no presidents or monarchs, no rules and regulations, just common sense, hard work, and prosperity for those who earn it."

Faelin never forgot Ambrose Kidd's stories. Indeed, he became the old sailor's constant companion-for it soon became clear that Kidd was never sailing home again. The boy's eager attention was meat and drink to Kidd, just as his stories were to the orphan boy. After the sailor died, Faelin found that he was starving for more.

He took jobs around the ports and soon learned to spot a Kiwi sailor by a certain proud lift to his head.

An offer of a drink usually got the boy more stories. Work as a dockhand evolved into work aboard s.h.i.+ps-first in port, then at sea.

Chafing under California's numerous regulations, all of which seemed to exist-as far as Faelin could tell-to keep the strong and able from profiting while buoying up the weak and unfit, Faelin happily took a berth on theSpeculation .

Speculationwas an ocean-going free-trader, a sailing vessel modeled off the old China clipper-a s.h.i.+p type that, ironically, had met its demise due to the evolution of the coal-dependent steamers soon after it had reached near perfection of design. Now, with petroleum products useless, the clipper s.h.i.+p had been resurrected.

Current technology had taken a while to recover to the point that a clipper s.h.i.+p could be built-there were so many old skills to be relearned, so many shops to be retooled-but now that point had been reached and Faelin's childhood had been marked by the sight of these great white seabirds, first in ones and twos, later in great flocks.

TheSpeculation 's captain, a sour old cove named Burke, was among those who were taking advantage of the relative availability of clipper s.h.i.+ps. Burke's vessel was not among the newest, but Burke was owner-aboard, a thing that would have been nearly unheard of twenty years before when it took a corporation to fund the building of the vessels.

Faelin admired Captain Burke as the perfect type of the self-made man. TheSpeculation was a tight s.h.i.+p, but her regulations made sense. After all, you couldn't have someone lolling below decks in a storm when all hands were needed on deck or deciding to steer without the least knowledge of navigation, could you?

For five years, Faelin served on theSpeculation and during that time he grew into a big man, broad-shouldered, topping most around him by a head or more. His rough, calloused hands were equally swift with a pistol, gun, or a line. He even picked up a few lubber skills-some carpentry, iron working, and sewing. He became known as a good man to have at your side in a brawl, had many followers but never close friends.

Over those five years, however, Faelin's opinion of Captain Burke and his capacity as a commander underwent a change. Faelin couldn't help but notice that as officers retired or went on to other vessels, he himself was never promoted to fill their posts. He received pay raises readily enough, and high bonuses when a cargo sold well. Still, this wasn't stripes on his sleeve and his mates calling him "sir."

Had theSpeculation been a military vessel, Faelin might have excused the oversight, but on a free-trader nothing but ability was required for promotion. Therefore, he started brooding over the slight.

He might not make a good quartermaster-Faelin was the first to admit that bookkeeping was far from his favorite sport-but he navigated well enough, had taken his time at the wheel. He might be young yet to serve as first officer, but he'd make a good second. Eventually, he grew sullen, deciding he was being slighted.

"I tell you," he said one afternoon to Simon Alcott, his closest crony, as they sat up in the riggings mending trousers. "Captain Burke doesn't like me because he sees I'm a threat to him and that wimp son of his, Irving. He don't dare promote me, even to second, lest the crew start wondering why Irving's first mate and I'm second. Far better to have old Waldemar in that post, him with his stammer and two missing fingers."