To Hold Infinity (20 page)

But they had taken him captive. He wasn't here from choice.

Sighing, he powered down the terminal.

Perhaps he had already chosen.

He stood up, and pushed his chair to one side.

Bending over, he did some of the light static stretching exercises he had seen his mother do, then performed a deep knee bend, a full squat. He breathed in deeply as he lowered himself, then, puffing, pushed his weight upwards.

“Let's try that again.”

Another one.

He pushed himself through another forty-eight repetitions before stopping, gasping, with sweat pouring down his face. And Mother enjoyed doing this?

It had, at least, taken his mind off his remaining indecision.

He wiped his face with his sleeve. Later, he could wash with gel back in the cabin, but for now his baggy jumpsuit's smartfibre was enough: growing absorbent, channelling away the moisture, and neutralizing some of his skin bacteria.

Good enough. Wouldn't want Dhana to think he suffered from body odour.

His thighs were aching pleasantly as he left the booth, slipping on his resp-mask, and went out of the doorway at the rear of the chamber and up into the main lab area. There, he took the one exit, out to the trail which led down to the canyon floor.

Slowly—very slowly, no doubt, to an onlooker—Tetsuo jogged down the trail, and continued jogging until he neared the cabin. He stopped then, not wanting to stagger inside completely out of breath, and waited till his respiration returned to normal.

The resp-mask doesn't help
, he thought.
It's not that good at reacting to sudden changes in oxygen demand.

The sound of raised voices greeted him as he walked through the door into the cabin's main room.

“—not what I signed on for!” Dhana's voice, loud and angry.

“But it's what we have to do.” Brevan, gruff.

They were round the corner, standing in the short corridor outside Brevan's quarters.

“No. A peaceful demonstration, that's all. Nothing more.” Dhana sounded adamant.

“And if they send in TacCorps Teams? Nobody will ever know we were there.”

“There'll be offworlders present.”

“They can be subtle if they need to be.” Brevan, trying to sound reasonable. “The proctors will cut out the offworlders from the crowd, especially the journalists, before the rough stuff starts.”

“It doesn't matter. The place will be guarded, you stupid bastard!”

“Fine,” said Brevan. “It's volunteers only, so you're out, anyway.”

“And you trust Kerrigan? That madman?”

“Psycho, maybe, but not stupid. He'll achieve the objective.”

“Achieve the objective?” Dhana's voice was incredulous.

Tetsuo stepped into the centre of the room, where they could see him.

“Bugger the objective,” Dhana continued. “What about the cost? And how are you going to get through their defence field without a Luculentus to enter the command?”

Her voice trailed off, and she looked up at Tetsuo, and her pale eyes were round with fright.

Tetsuo took a deep breath in.

“I volunteer,” he said, heart pounding. “Count me in, for whatever it is.”

Dhana's shoulders sagged in defeat.

 

“We're too early,” said Vin, “but I'd like to see how things are getting on, before the guests start arriving. Want to come with me?”

“I'd love to,” said Yoshiko.

As they walked along a crimson-carpeted corridor, its pastel shaded alcoves filled with two-dee oil paintings or facsimiles thereof, Yoshiko thought of the small capsule she had recovered from its hiding place in Tetsuo's house, and which was now hidden in her bedroom here. Perhaps she should keep it on her person?

“Vin?” The capsule was the right size to hold a crystal, Yoshiko guessed, but the proctors had not found it. “Is it possible to scan for infocrystals? In case there was anything hidden in Tetsuo's house, I mean.”

“I would think so,” said Vin. “Ah, yes, there's a resonance effect you could use. I'm sure the proctors know about that—” She frowned, questing in Skein. “—though I can't find out too much about their operating procedures.”

“Oh,” said Yoshiko. “I was just wondering.”

“They'll have found anything that was there,” said Vin reassuringly. “Unless it was covered in null-gel, I suppose.”

Of course.

Farsteen's body had been wrapped—imperfectly—in something the proctors had called a null-sheet. The capsule, no doubt, used the same anti-scan material.

Did that mean Tetsuo had killed—?

Impossible.

A haunting song floated down the corridor, a silver soprano singing a language unknown to Yoshiko. Whispering flutes accompanied the unseen voice.

“Beautiful song,” said Yoshiko, thinking that she would ask for details later, so that she could access the recording from her terminal whenever she wished.

She would not think about Tetsuo as anything other than innocent.

“That's Marlana,” said Vin. “She's early.”

“Marlana?”

“Oh—that's not a recording,” said Vin. “It's kind of traditional that we make our own entertainment at these functions. Nothing canned, you see.”

Yoshiko nodded, smiling.

“Don't worry,” said Vin. “It's not as amateurish as it sounds.”

Judging from that beautiful voice, their home-grown entertainment would be artistic works touched with genius.

And I'm supposed just to chat naturally with these people?

Thoughts of Tetsuo's crystal scratched at the surface of her mind, like a lynxette demanding entry.

Should she ask Vin's advice? If the capsule truly contained an infocrystal, she would probably need Vin's help to access it. But what info did it hold? Damning evidence that could implicate Tetsuo in murder? Or everything they needed to rescue him from whatever situation he was entangled in?

I'll try to access it first, by myself. Then, if I get nowhere, I'll ask Vin for help. That's the best I can do, my son.

Be well, Tetsuo, wherever you are….

They stopped outside the massive bronze doors to the ballroom, then, as a dozen young proctors in dress uniform, draped with golden rope and brocade and resplendent with white epaulettes, marched past in step.

“They're part of the catering staff,” said Vin. “Kind of an honour guard for the mayor, Neliptha Machella. Showbiz stuff, really.”

“They look very young,” said Yoshiko, who noticed anew just how young and fresh-faced Vin was, too.

“They might be cadets,” said Vin. “Some of them are cadets, and some of them are part-time proctors, who like dressing up in uniform and playing the part, you know?”

They went inside the ballroom and stopped.

It was transformed.

Overhead, the vast dome was shining gold and sapphire. It bore paintings of pastoral scenes—shaded trees against an azure Terran sky in outstanding chiaroscuro—and cherubs and mu-space ships, which seemed to glow with an inner light.

Beneath the dome ran a circular balcony, its frontage one vast terracotta telling of the history of mankind. The balcony rested on slender ornate pillars which flowed down onto the vast polished expanse of the ballroom floor.

The walls gleamed white. In each nook, small amusing
trompe l'oeil
holos swam.

On the shining marble floor, beneath the balcony, long white tables were being set up by drones, supervised by the young-looking proctors.

Some of the proctors looked less than comfortable. One of them ran a white gloved hand around his neck, trying to loosen his stiff, ornate collar.

“You'd think,” said Vin, following Yoshiko's gaze, “they'd have more comfortable uniforms made of basic smartfibre.”

“I guess it's tradition,” said Yoshiko.

“To be uncomfortable. Right.”

Yoshiko smiled, then made a sudden decision.

“Vin?” she said. “Have you got time to come back to my room with me? There's something I need your help with.”

“Sure. There's loads of time.” Vin grinned. “Lori should start to run around panicking, just about now. It might be a good move to steer clear.”

Yoshiko led the way.

“Looks like you're finding your way around.”

They took the small side corridor which led to Yoshiko's room.

There, Yoshiko waved open a cupboard space in the wall and withdrew her training holoprocessor in its carry-case. She opened the external pouch, and took out the small black capsule between forefinger and thumb.

With her thumbnail, she split open the black gelatinous casing—null-gel, she presumed—and extracted an infocrystal.

“Can we have a look to see what's on this?”

“I should think so. May I?”

Vin took the crystal from Yoshiko and inserted it into the small socket depression on the silver terminal.

“There's an initial display.” Vin frowned. “Modelling options and info tables are tagged to it.”

Blue, and blue, it pulsed.

A field of swarming light, a hundred shades of blue and indigo, streaked with sheets of violet and crimson. A phase space of some sort, dragged by strange attractors into billowing curtains of light.

Vin looked troubled.

“What is it?” asked Yoshiko.

Vin shook her head.

Yoshiko bent to examine the display more closely.

“A mind—” Vin said. “A Luculentus mind.”

Yoshiko looked up at Vin.

“What—?”

“The crimson—” Vin pointed. “—represents virtual synaptic interfaces. VSI. The neuron/lattice interface, and the comms link between multiple plexcores.”

Yoshiko shook her head, not understanding.

“See that waveform?” Vin traced a blue curved plane which arced through a crimson barrier. “See how it's continuous across the interface? Distributed thought…Yoshiko, where
did
you get this?”

Yoshiko looked at the diagram. It pulsed with thoughts and dreams and memories of a Luculentus mind: a soul depicted in light.

“Please, don't ask me just yet,” she replied. “Trust me.”

“There's lots more info,” Vin said conspiratorially. “Same mind and timeframe, other variables, it looks like.”

“Can we model—?”

Yoshiko stopped as Vin held up her hand.

“I'm sorry,” said Vin. “Lori wants me. I have to help her check out the arrangements, and her dress. In person.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward in exasperation.

“We can go back to this in the morning,” said Yoshiko.

“OK,” said Vin. She frowned lightly. “Maybe later, if the ball is boring. Though it shouldn't be.”

“The morning will be fine.”

“Right.” Vin was still frowning.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Vin. “Well—no, nothing. I'll tell you later.”

“Lori's waiting?”

“Yeah. And getting impatient.”

Yoshiko smiled. “Want me to come along?”

“Would you?” Relief flooded Vin's features. “Honestly, you'd think she'd be able to cope at her age.”

Yoshiko laughed, and Vin blushed a little, then laughed herself.

“Sorry,” said Vin.

She looked at the display, and it winked out of existence.

“I've suspended it, rather than terminating,” she said. “Next time you power it on, the display will be there.”

She leaned over the tiny terminal and ejected the crystal, and handed it to Yoshiko.

It lay glinting in Yoshiko's palm, cool and innocuous.

“Shall we go and calm down Lori?” she said.

“I guess we'd better.”

“Party, party,” said Yoshiko, and Vin laughed, a girlish tinkling laugh, free of care, full of the youthful energy which knows it can never die.

 

Lori was wearing a long shining blue robe, which fell to her feet at the front but fell lower, like a short train, at the back. Her feet were suspended about five centimetres above the floor: her sandals sparkled with superconducting gel which used the floor's own power supply for the levitation effect.

A long swathe of silver silk rose from the robe's hem at the front left, up and across Lori's body and back over her right shoulder, where it billowed ceaselessly—as did her hair, coppery today with pearls among the tresses waving as though in an incessant unfelt breeze. Small silver stars hung in the air around her neck and wrists.

“Oh,” said Yoshiko. “You're very beautiful.”

“Do you really think so?”

Vin laughed lightly. “You're perfect, Lori. You'll be a sensation.”

“Quite perfect. Vin's right.” Yoshiko lightly touched the gorgeous fabric. “Wonderful. And are those stars floating solids, or holos?”

Vin grinned. “That's what the men will be trying to find out.”

“OK, OK.” Lori gave in. “Enough. Shall we go to the ball?”

Lori led the way, stately and elegant as she walked straight-backed above the floor, out of her dressing room and along a hallway to the main outer entrance. The great polished wooden doors were flung open, and only the thinnest of clear membranes held in the building's warmth.

They were in an atrium of rosy pink marble. In an alcove, Yoshiko noticed, stood a small bronze statue which looked like a genuine twenty-first century Nakamura.

Outside, evening was darkening the sky to emerald, and a large white flyer with curved wings was gliding in to land, accompanied by a swarm of smaller vehicles. It touched down, and an opening immediately grew in its side.

A tall black Luculenta, in a long black and yellow gown, came down the big flyer's exit ramp.

“I need to wait here,” said Lori quietly, “because the EM field only extends to the threshold.”

“I don't know,” said Vin, almost without moving her lips. “It would be quite memorable if you fell down the steps at the mayor's feet.”

“Funny.” Lori kept an almost-straight face.

The lady mayor was accompanied by proctors in dress uniform, and five or six other people with tiny globes floating in the air above them.