To Hold Infinity (15 page)

“Thank you for an informative interview.”

“Not at all.” Rafael delivered his most courteous bow. “It was quite educational.”

 

Later, he constructed another NetAngel, to scout for more information about this Adam Farsteen.

Almost immediately, the wraith returned in Skein, empty-handed. As a LuxPrime courier, Farsteen's personal info was held in embedded objects wrapped around in level-alpha security.

Rafael's vampire modules included protocol infiltrators stolen, at second- or third-hand, from LuxPrime labs; but he had nothing which could penetrate that level of protection. Not without revealing himself.

Cursing, he waved away the NetAngel.

The ghost-Rafael dissolved in Skein, like a mist torn apart by the wind.

 

“Hurry,” said Yoshiko.

Xanthia landed the flyer on a gleaming parking-pad.

They alighted, and rushed towards the white arches of the Bright Lights hotel.

Inside, Yoshiko looked around in vain for a reception desk or human staff.

“Don't worry.” Xanthia laid a hand on Yoshiko's shoulder. “I've polled the hotel system. She hasn't checked out.”

“Perhaps we—There she is.”

Maggie, grim-faced, strode into the lounge, towing a bewildered-looking Jason.

“That bastard, Rafael.” An angry light glowed in her eyes. “He made some not-so-subtle references to Jason. I went straight to the crèche, and took him out.”

Yoshiko and Xanthia exchanged glances.

Neither of them, Yoshiko realized, wanted to alarm Jason. Maggie might be overreacting. But they needed to be sure Jason was safe.

Xanthia crouched down, to the boy's height.

“Hello, Jason. My name's Xanthia.”

“Hello,” said Jason shyly.

“Would you like to come and visit my house? There are big gardens to play in, and lots of toys.”

“Mm.” He shifted his feet.

“There's a river, and a lake. And boats.”

“Real boats?”

“Oh, yes. You can sail them as much as you like. Would you like to see them?”

“OK.”

Xanthia looked up at Maggie.

“I've fully trained staff and energy shields. It's as secure as you can possibly get.”

“Thank you.”

“I'm sorry.” Yoshiko felt miserable. “I didn't realize the trouble I was causing.”

“Not of your making,” said Maggie. “Absolutely not your fault. Look, will you two look after Jason for a moment?”

“Delighted,” said Xanthia.

Maggie looked around urgently.

“Is everything all right?” asked Yoshiko.

“Gotta pee,” said Maggie, while Jason rolled his eyes upward in disgust. “Damned implant prevents me from getting drunk, but doesn't stop the side effects.”

She hurried away.

Yoshiko felt a tug at her sleeve.

“Yo!” said a squeaky voice. “How's it goin'?”

Jason was holding out both hands, grinning, while the toy monkey turned somersaults on his palms.

“He doesn't need to go pee-pee,” Jason said solemnly.

“That's good, dear,” said Yoshiko, while Xanthia smothered her laughter.

Jason cradled the toy in his hand, then returned it to the inside pocket of his bright red jumpsuit. It had bright yellow cuffs with blue fastenings, and it was partly open down the front to reveal a near-fluorescent lime-green undershirt. They weren't about to lose him.

When Maggie returned, Xanthia asked, “Is there anything you absolutely need to get from your room?”

“Nothing urgent, but—”

“I can get your things sent on later.”

Maggie took a breath. “Nothing, then.”

Xanthia nodded, and Yoshiko found Jason's hand in hers as they swept together out of the lobby and hurried over to Xanthia's long, elegant silver flyer.

Outside, a group of protestors was gathering. This close to the conference centre, they obviously felt that there were delegates here who might be influenced.

KEEP OFFWORLDERS OFFWORLD!

Yoshiko tightened her grip on Jason as they pushed through the crowd's edge, and circled round to Xanthia's flyer.

“Welcome to Fulgor,” said Maggie grimly, as they climbed aboard.

The ground, and the gathering protestors, dropped away beneath them.

The flyer banked right, and straightened up. Acceleration pressed them back into their seats as they left the conference centre far behind.

 

Tetsuo placed the two empty containers on the tiled floor and adjusted his resp-mask.

Down below, in the cavern's pool, small rock-bound organisms waved frantic tendrils as Dhana splashed her way out of the water.

“I'll come with you,” she called up.

Tetsuo nodded.

She climbed up easily, though she was carrying her long metal pole. This time, she had been using it to re-site the life-forms in the pool.

They walked into a long, low room, where open-topped tanks held semiaquatic specimens. The dark secretions, foundation of the humans' food supply, were drained off through narrow pipes.

As they filled the containers, Tetsuo asked, “Can you tell me about the Agrazzi?”

“What about them? They're exploitationist. They want to rape the ecology so much, they might as well go live with the terraformers in the cities.”

“Oh.” Tetsuo sealed the first container. “I'm glad I asked.”

“Then you have the Evanalari, who disturb Fulgor so little, they're lucky to survive at all.”

“OK.” The second seal didn't fit properly, but he forced it on.

“But most septs are moderate. Like us.”

“Of course.” He hefted the containers. “After you.”

He followed her outside.

She stopped for a moment, on the research centre's balcony, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Look down there.” When she spoke, the membrane across her mouth glistened in the bright light.

Tetsuo squinted. Down in the gully, where the glowing peach-gold rockface gave way to shadows, a group of thick, flat shapes was moving across the ground.

“They've no limbs,” he said. “How do they move?”

“You've heard of caterpillar tracks, on ancient vehicles? A continuous rotating surface?”

“I guess so.”

“Laminar flow is a basic microstructure here. Just as much of Terran movement, from muscle cell contraction to sperm motion, evolved from flagellae.”

Tetsuo, not sure if she was making some point, kept silent.

“Each organism,” Dhana went on, “moves by flowing layers in its body. But those things down there aren't individuals. Watch this.”

She vaulted over the balcony's wall and dropped lightly to the rocks below.

“Careful,” muttered Tetsuo.

Dhana crouched down in front of one of the creatures, then rapped its back sharply with her pole.

It exploded.

Hundreds of fragments flew apart. Dhana picked one of them up, and climbed back up to Tetsuo.

“For God's sake,” he said. “You didn't have to do that.”

“I haven't done anything. Look.”

She held out her hand. A small round shape was moving, flowing across her palm.

Dhana tossed the small organism back into the gully. It landed with a plop among its fellows, all of whom were heading in the same direction.

“What now?”

“Patience, Tetsuo. Just watch.”

As they travelled, the small shapes came together. First, they formed a kind of travelling mat, as they all joined up.

Then, as more stragglers joined the main group, they climbed on top of the others, forming a second, contra-rotating, layer.

A third, and a fourth layer were formed, before the group organism was whole again. Then, following the rest of the herd, it turned around and came to rest in the deepest shade.

“Wow.” Tetsuo knew he was smiling idiotically. “That's terrific.”

“Isn't it?”

“Thank you very much. That was quite something.”

Dhana shyly looked away.

“You're welcome.”

Tetsuo cleared his throat.

“I'd better get these containers back to the cabin.”

“Suppose so,” said Dhana. “I'll get back to work.”

“See you later.”

He must be getting fitter. This time, as he carried the containers down the broken path to the cabin, they hardly weighed a thing.

Dawn painted the sky pale turquoise, splashed it briefly with gold and scarlet, then gave way to glorious morning.

In synch, finally, with local conditions, Yoshiko performed her morning training on the cool lawn. Terran chaffinches twittered in the trees, and the scent of mutated syringa-shrubs was sharp in the air.

Afterwards, she went inside and showered, and a house terminal directed her to the breakfast room where Lori was already sitting down to eat.

A silver tabby lynxette was sitting elegantly beneath a window. As Lori tucked in to her bowl of fruit and cereal, the lynxette bent her head to her dish of protein gruel. Her small tongue showed pink as she lapped it up.

“That's Dawn,” said Lori. “She likes to eat breakfast with everyone else.”

“She's beautiful.”

“
Mrrrgah
,” the lynxette cried softly, as though in agreement.

Yoshiko began to pick at her food.

“You made some progress yesterday, I hear.”

“Not much.” Yoshiko shook her head. “Rafael de la Vega's name was mentioned again, but this time it could easily be coincidence. He was my son's sponsor, after all.”

“There's the question of Tetsuo's relationship with Adam Farsteen.”

Yoshiko looked away. “The proctors will be already investigating that.”

“Indeed.” Lori dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and pushed her dishes away.

“But the Aphelion Ball is in two days' time, and we have a high-ranking official visiting us.”

“Major Reilly?”

“No, no. The head of TacCorps. Luculentus Federico Gisanthro. If we need to exert some high-level influence, he's our man.”

“That's good.” Yoshiko stared out of the window, at the mountains' distant grandeur. “I don't suppose…Is there a Pilots' Sanctuary on Fulgor?”

“Let me check.” Lori's gaze grew unfocussed. “Yes. Two, in fact. The larger is in Lucis. Rather near Lowtown.”

“Can I call them?”

“Go ahead.” Lori fetched a small terminal from a table and placed it in front of Yoshiko. “I'll see you later.”

“Thanks.”

Lori left. The lynxette came over, and rubbed her whiskers against Yoshiko's leg. Absent-mindedly, Yoshiko scratched behind the lynxette's ears.

She gestured the terminal into life, and requested a realtime call to the Pilots' Sanctuary in Lucis.

The head and shoulders of a young man appeared above the terminal.

No more than Vin's age, he had pale skin, stretched taut over high cheekbones, and his eyes were deep glittering black. Like all Pilots' eyes, they lacked any surrounding white.

The young man bowed.

“I am Pilot Noviciate Edralix Corsdavin.”

“Sunadomari Yoshiko.”

“I am honoured. May I help you in any way?”

“Truly, I don't know.” Yoshiko hesitated. “It's a personal problem. My son disappeared a few days ago.”

The young Pilot, Edralix, looked off to one side. “The NewsNets have reported this.”

“I hadn't realized.”

“It started as a human interest story, peripherally related to the Skein conference.” His dark eyes were expressionless. “There's been more coverage since.”

Good old Maggie. Perhaps it would help to keep an open investigation going. It stood to reason that anything to do with LuxPrime, the technological cornerstone of Luculentus society, would be kept behind closed doors as much as possible.

“Does the Pilots' Confederation have anything to do with Fulgor's SatScan system?”

Edralix shook his head.

“There's no mu-space tech involved.”

“I see.”

Another wasted effort. She had hoped to access orbital scan-logs, showing Tetsuo's house, on the day he had disappeared.

Maybe showing that poor man, Adam Farsteen…

“—in a few days,” Edralix was saying.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Er, there'll be a Pilot here in a couple of days.” Edralix's youthful uncertainty was apparent. “Until then, it's just me and the tech staff.”

“You've been very helpful.”

“I'll get Pilot deVries to call you as soon as she arrives.”

“Is that Jana deVries?” Yoshiko sat upright. “I met her on Ardua Station, in Terran orbit. I think she piloted the ship which brought me here to Fulgor.”

“That would be right.” Edralix nodded. “She'll be back soon, with a layover for a few days.”

“It would be nice to talk to her again. She was very kind.”

“Yes.” A smile lit up Edralix's features. “She's the best.”

“Thank you very much for your help.”

“That's OK,” said Edralix. “And, er, good luck.”

Yoshiko waved the display into nothingness.

“
Mrrgaow
?”

“Don't worry.” Yoshiko rubbed the lynxette's head. Outside, sunlight glinted gold off the distant snowcovered peaks. “We're going to get some help.”

 

Time to make use of his contacts.

Rafael had never tried to form any close contacts within the supposedly incorruptible LuxPrime. It was the only way to avoid entrapment, to avoid meeting someone who might guess how he had subverted their technology.

In Skein, he asked for a realtime comm to Captain Rogers at the Bureau for Offworld Affairs. A busy-icon greeted his request.

He left no message.

Always, he dealt with contractors at several removes from prime sources like LuxPrime. Now, he prepared a flock of NetAngels to contact them all, on various pretexts. Should any ghost-Rafael detect responses which were outside its expected paradigm, it would immediately get hold of the real Rafael, who would smoothly take its place.

He entrusted the task to AIs only because he expected no results.

As the NetAngels began their tasks, the real Rafael dipped in and out of Skein, sampling their conversations.

None of them even hinted at wrongdoing or tragedy involving a principal LuxPrime courier. News of such an event should have cascaded rapidly through his network of contacts and associates.

Had Farsteen disappeared, in the same manner as Tetsuo?

In reality, Rafael leaned back in his couch and stared at the ceiling. He wondered if he had a pretext for calling Federico, and seeing if he could extract any information from him.

Perhaps a complaint about harassment by Maggie Brown…No, that didn't strike the right tone. Perhaps just passing on the confidential info he had inferred from the wording of her questions. That should do it.

He did not, however, hold much hope of Federico's dropping useful hints, unless it suited some purpose of his own.

Still, he hesitated. Federico Gisanthro was his most useful contact—apart, possibly, from the corrupt Captain Rogers—facilitating Rafael's introduction to offworld workers in mu-space tech and other fields. But Federico was, too, his most dangerous associate, as sharp as they came, and if he ever once suspected the existence of Rafael's vampire code or the mu-space comms network which held his vast plexcore nexus, then there would be a TacCorps team here in seconds.

Just searching his house, and discovering the buried plexcores, would be enough to indict him.

All right. Just do it.

He pictured Federico's ideogram.

 

[[Luculentus Federico Gisanthro, ident 5γ33G3
•
{sept∆2∑}]]

 

“Hello, Federico, old chap.”

 

<<>>

 

He was in a cavern—no, a grey man-made tunnel where only a few white glowglobes cast black sheets of shadow across construction debris. Federico was crouched down against a small yellow dirt-covered mining machine, which bore the label “Bronto.”

 

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White beams flickered out of the darkness and a man fell at Federico's feet.

“The bastards,” whispered the fallen man, frozen in position.

“The jumpsuits—” A rictus spread across Federico's face as he returned fire. “—The beams solidify the jumpsuits.” He turned away from the Rafael-image. “Now! Go!”

For a moment Rafael thought Federico meant him.

Federico, flanked by two of his men, vaulted over a pile of battered drums and fallen joists, and ran to the tunnel's side.

Rafael's viewpoint whirled sickeningly as he followed. At least he had to expend no physical effort to keep up.

Federico and his men began to climb up twisted steel rods, which hung like uncovered roots from the dark bare earth. They crawled up to the tunnel's ceiling, and hung upside down like spiders from the carry-rail which threaded the ceiling's apex.

Rafael's point of view rotated through one hundred and eighty degrees and he fought back his vertigo, reminding himself of the feel of his chair beneath his hands, back in his own home.

“So what,” asked Federico, “can I do for you?”

He did not look in the mood for chit-chat.

“I gave a news interview to an Earther.”

“Jolly good.” Federico dragged himself along the rail.

Rafael noticed the tiny safety link which hooked him to the rail, quite useless if the rail itself gave way. The man had no nerves.

“She seemed to hint about some trouble at LuxPrime.” Rafael swallowed, despite himself, as they moved out over a vertical shaft whose bottom was invisible. “Something about a courier called Adam Farsteen.”

“Really?” Federico, hanging by one arm, helped his men to attach some equipment.

“Just thought I'd let you know.”

“Very decent of you, old chap.”

A beam sizzled past Federico and he dropped spiderlike from the ceiling, brought up with a jolt by his harness, as he twisted round and returned fire. Rafael heard a faint cry from below.

“Sorry, Rafael, I'm a little busy now.”

Like questing fingers, beams spread up from the darkness. Federico's own men, dangling from the ceiling beside him, readied some sort of weapons array.

A flash of white. A beam cracked past centimetres from Federico's face.

“See you later, chum.”

 

<<>>

 

…And Rafael was sitting back in his chair, breathing hard, the smooth arms slick beneath his sweating palms.

“Nice friends you've got,” he said to the empty room.

As though other people—besides the sweet things he subsumed into himself—could ever matter to him.

Federico was a dangerous quantity to manipulate, and would return anything he discovered about LuxPrime only if it was in his interests, but Rafael could handle him.

Rafael himself was an emergent property of an underlying neural community the likes of which the universe had never seen. Someday he would be powerful enough to strike at will through Skein, plunder any mind he chose, plunder every mind on Fulgor—

A fantasy? Perhaps not.

“Move over, God.” He could. He could really do it. “Rafael Garcia de la Vega is taking your place.”

 

Tetsuo leaned against the research station's balcony. The stone balustrade felt powdery through the thin film of gel which covered his hands.

Sunset's spectacular crimsons and oranges streaked the sky. This low in the canyon, planes of shadow hid the rockface walls, and the sun itself had long disappeared from sight.

“Pretty, isn't it?” said Dhana beside him.

“Yeah. Look at the way the light catches that quartz up there, by the rim.”

“Mmm.”

Tetsuo adjusted his resp-mask, then stopped fidgeting and watched the sky slowly grow a deeper red, bruised with purple and vermilion. The silence was companionable, but all the while he was intensely aware of Dhana standing beside him, drinking in the same sights as he.

“Brevan hasn't grown to like me much, has he?”

“I wouldn't say that. He's got a lot on his mind.”

Tetsuo shifted his resp-mask. “I don't suppose I could get one of those membrane implants?”