To Hold Infinity (8 page)

Amid the swirling mist of pulverized rock and flashing light, a statue of Diana the Huntress gradually took shape.

“It's magnificent,” whispered Yoshiko.

Vin was looking at the statue through a small crystalline sheet, which she held up in front of her face.

“Use this. Change the focus with your thumb pressure.”

Yoshiko took the sheet. Her vision zoomed in on the Huntress's intent face. Even the irises of her eyes, even her eyelashes, were exquisitely delineated in stone.

“Do you like it?” Lori had walked up, unnoticed. Her scarf unwrapped itself from her face and wound itself into a loop around her shoulder.

“It's wonderful.”

“Then it's yours. It can travel back to Earth with you. I'll arrange that.” Yoshiko started to protest, then stopped herself. Instead, she bowed silently. Lori's answering bow was nicely judged, performed exactly to the same inclination.

“Come on, Yoshiko,” said Vin. “I'll show you to your room.”

 

He had to get out of here.

Tetsuo slapped on his resp-mask and hauled himself out of the flyer. He half walked, half slid down the fuselage, and jumped heavily to the ground.

Already, he felt short of breath.

Uncertainty swirled in his head. In contrast to the serene canyon floor, conflicting images crowded his mind. Committing info-theft had been stupid as well as criminal, but he would give himself up in an instant if he could do so safely. Whatever the penalties for his offence, could it be worse than stirring up trouble he had no hope in hell of dealing with?

From the canyon's purple shadows, a pattern sprang out at him—a sudden twist in perception—and his troubles were forgotten.

There were no glowing yellow outlines. Not this time. Yet the trails of minute disturbances were suddenly prominent.

It was like an optical puzzle's solution suddenly made obvious; like the first time he had looked at a tesseract and seen it as a truly four-dimensional shape.

He set off across the canyon floor, following the trails. An hour later, he was lying on a ridge overlooking a gully. The rock was warm beneath his grumbling belly.

People were moving, down below.

So much for the deserted hypozone, far from civilization, which had always been his intended bolthole. Paranoid preparations, because he had never trusted Rafael—

Concentrate.

He blinked sweat away from his eyes. It was nice to rest here, feeling the almost sensual fatigue-pain in his heavy thighs.

Movement, again.

A slight figure was picking his—no, her—way across the rocks. Shorn blond hair, tight gamine features, carrying a long pole which glowed blue at the ends.

She wasn't wearing a resp-mask.

As she turned to wave at someone out of sight, Tetsuo squinted, trying to make out the faint glimmer or distortion of a smartatom shield. Nothing. What could be holding Terran atmosphere down in the gully?

A small shadow moved beside his head, and Tetsuo started.

Heart thumping, he looked around, and saw a harmless propelloid uproot itself from a ledge and whirl away, catching a thermal updraught.

He looked back down.

Purple slick-skinned organisms were swarming from a narrow cave. Strange moving patterns flowed across their bodies: ripples of black moving from back to front across their dorsal surfaces.

No—Their
skins
were flowing, looping endlessly, providing locomotion.

A man's voice called out from the cave's darkness, and the woman began to herd the creatures across the gully, waving the pole in encouragement.

A straggler broke away, crawling uphill. The woman diverted the rest of the flock to follow it. When they caught up, she directed the whole group back downwards.

Good tactic.

Tetsuo stood up and looked around for a descending path. Puffing, he made his way down.

What was he doing?

It was the liberation of total disaster. Two days ago, before his normal life had been torn away, his instinct would have been to remain in hiding. Now, with a strange feeling of abandon, he just walked into the gully, accepting the risk.

“Excuse me.” His voice was muffled by the resp-mask.

The woman jumped.

She spun to face Tetsuo, and he saw how emaciated she was, how young. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth as if to yell. A clear membrane glistened wetly over her mouth, and her shout was silent.

In the back of Tetsuo's neck, pain exploded.

As a dark orange boiling mist rolled over his vision, he glimpsed pale bands pulsing gill-like on her slender neck. Then waves of total black fell upon him, and he drowned.

Past plumes of steam rising from blowholes, over a bubbling lake of creamy mud streaked with metallic pigments, then banking close to a mountain slope studded with crimson growths which caught Yoshiko's professional interest—She shook her head. This was not the time.

Vin was beside her in the flyer, frowning intently, deeply interfaced. Earlier, over breakfast, she had called the proctors, and gained permission to visit Tetsuo's house.

Yoshiko stared outside again, but the landscape flowing past beneath the wing had lost all interest. She clenched her fists. Small strong hands, formed by thousands of hours spent in the
shugyo
—the austere discipline—of
bushido
training. Time, perhaps, which would have been better spent with her sons, her husband.

Ken, I miss you.

“Landing now,” murmured Vin.

They circled over a trefoil-shaped house, perched at a meadow's edge. Vin brought the flyer slowly down by a stand of majestic pines. A stream flashed in the sunlight.

Two flyers—big, black, lumpy craft—were there already.

“The proctors?” asked Yoshiko.

“That's right.”

The engines whispered into silence, and the seats flowed in the same disconcerting fashion as before, and deposited them on the grass.

Vin led the way along a path of grey slate, winding past a pool and an eclectic Zen garden. A dark-uniformed woman, with cropped grey hair and a strong jaw, was waiting for them.

“Professor Sunadomari? I'm Major Reilly.”

“How do you do.”

“It's a bit of a mess inside. I expect you'd like to look around.”

 

Young-looking proctors drifted in and out of the sparse pine-floored lounge, while Yoshiko sat on a couch, sipping a glass of water. Major Reilly sat opposite her, finally without questions.

All of Yoshiko's answers had boiled down to one thing: she knew nothing of her elder son's life.

“We'll find him.” Major Reilly was professionally sympathetic. “Try not to worry.”

A band of tension tightened above Yoshiko's eyes. Too many people were telling her not to worry. Too many people were here, now—at least a dozen of the major's people. Was there so little crime on Fulgor, that a trivial matter would need so many proctors?

A broken vase lay in the corner. Outside, violence had passed through like a whirlwind, leaving rooms in shambles, walls destroyed, furniture and belongings torn apart.

Yoshiko felt cold, as though her whole body were shutting down. Vin, standing near the doorway, asked, “Did you have trouble getting through the defences?”

Of course. That was why there were so many of them.

“We have a special unit for dealing with such matters, ma'am.”

If Vin was surprised at being called “ma'am,” she did not show it.

“I thought you might have had to call in the TacCorps.”

Major Reilly's face tightened. “It's not actually their jurisdiction.”

Vin shrugged slightly.

“While you were talking to Yoshiko,” she said, eyes bright, “I saw your tech people examining an underground hangar. There were signs of a flyer taking off in a big hurry. About eight days ago, they're guessing.”

“You shouldn't have been—” Major Reilly stopped. “Never mind.”

Vin said, “Shouldn't SatScan show which way Yoshiko's son fled? Sorry, Yoshiko. But obviously there were heavily armed intruders, and I'd say Tetsuo got away.”

Yoshiko's heart beat faster.

“Is what she's saying true, Major? Can you find my son?”

Major Reilly looked from Yoshiko to Vin, then sighed slightly.

“SatScan images show no untoward occurrences of any kind.”

“So that's why someone of your seniority is here.” Vin turned to Yoshiko. “Either very sophisticated smartatom camouflage was used, or someone's hacked the SatScan logs.”

Major Reilly stood up.

“You are both hereby bound under the provisions of the Control of Information Act not to reveal any information you have learned here to any other parties. Nor may you share any speculations about the same. Do you understand?”

Yoshiko nodded dumbly.

“I understand.” Vin looked excited.

Resentment settled on Yoshiko, but she pushed it away. Vin was young, for all her precocious intellect, and she had never met Tetsuo. This must be an adventure for her.

“That includes conversations in Skein.”

“Of course.”

Yoshiko was suddenly aware of the major's lack of headgear. “Are there many Luculenti proctors?”

“No.” Major Reilly's expression was unreadable. “It's not really their career of choice.”

“Only a few,” Vin agreed. “Though I think I'd find it rather interesting.”

The major looked at her, startled. Then she grew thoughtful.

“Perhaps we could use your help.” From a satchel on the floor, she drew a small transparent bag which contained an infocrystal. “This is Tetsuo Sunadomari's upraise authorization: LuxPrime file, MoLI and BOA endorsements.”

Vin's eyes widened.

To Yoshiko, she said, “Ministry of Luculenti Industries, and the Bureau for Offworld Affairs.” She frowned. “Just a minute, while I check.”

While Vin's stare grew distant, Major Reilly asked Yoshiko, “You know of no recent change in your son's, ah, legal status?”

Yoshiko shook her head. “What's going on?”

Major Reilly said nothing.

“Wow.” Vin's expression cleared. “You're right, Major.”

It was the first time Yoshiko had seen Vin so clearly act like a teenage girl.

“His sponsor was Rafael de la Vega,” Vin quickly added. “The operation was a tenday ago. He's due to be presented in Skein in five days' time. I don't suppose—” She stopped, suddenly sombre. “I hope he makes it.”

Trembling, Yoshiko asked, “What has happened to my son?”

“He's—”

“He's become a Luculentus,” Vin interrupted breathlessly.

The ground seemed to fall away beneath Yoshiko's feet.

“What? How can that be—?”

“There's an offworld quota.” Major Reilly's voice was deliberately flat. “It often remains unfulfilled.”

Unlike the intense competition for Luculentus status among the rest of the society. Yoshiko understood that. “But he's not—He's not a child.” Her own voice sounded distant and strange.

Major Reilly looked at Vin, who answered, “The integration's harder with loss of plasticity, and perhaps not so effective, but it can be performed on an adult brain.”

“I see.”

Was this why Tetsuo hadn't wanted her to come?

“I don't want to sound alarmist, Major.” Vin looked serious. “But Tetsuo really shouldn't be alone right now. He needs LuxPrime support, in the later stages of VSI—Virtual Synaptic Interface—integration.”

“OK.” Major Reilly touched Yoshiko's arm. “Professor, I'm sure you would like to see the rest of your son's house. Let me get someone to show—”

“No,” said Yoshiko. “I want to hear this. What's the worst that can happen to Tetsuo, if he's by himself?”

Vin swallowed. “Neural catastrophe.”

“I understand.” Yoshiko blinked back tears.

She remembered Tetsuo as she had seen him in his last h-mail. Quite without headgear. His expression stiff, a little unnatural. An imperfectly edited image.

She was dimly aware of a proctor, scarcely more than a boy, coming into the room.

“Major? We're ready to clean up in here now.”

“Thank you. Please escort Professor Sunadomari outside, for some fresh air.”

Yoshiko walked mechanically outside. As the major's and Vin's voices receded, she could hear Vin answering questions about LuxPrime procedures. Then Yoshiko and the young proctor were in the garden, and the startling light was bright enough to hurt her eyes.

 

They fetched her a drink, some kind of herbal tea, and sat her down on a lounger, on a wooden deck overlooking the Zen garden. A couple of small silver drones were floating overhead, and half a dozen smart-looking proctors were tidying up, packing forensic sensors away in cases.

Yoshiko sat hunched, withdrawing into herself, wrapped in isolating numbness. The cheerful day, the sparkling stream which burbled by the garden, the scent of flowers, all seemed unreal.

There was a proctor crouching by the stream. He stood up, frowning over readings from the sensor in his hand.

He walked over to two of his colleagues.

“I don't get this. Look at all these decomposition products. But a few metres upstream, the water's clear.”

“Impossible.”

“No, it isn't—”

One of the others, a young woman, walked urgently over to the Zen garden. She gestured to a drone. It dropped, and hovered over pebbles which had been raked into a frozen, swirling sea.

The proctor's fingers flickered in control gestures, as she sifted info from her bracelet's holo display.

She looked up. “There's a null-sheet under here. That's why you didn't sense anything.”

“You're kidding.”

The proctors began digging through the pebbles with gloved hands. One of them knelt in the stream to work, heedless of the cold water.

Yoshiko stood up unnoticed, and walked down to join them. From beneath the stones, they were pulling up a black sheet of slick material.

“The head's in damper soil. Some solutes soaked through to the stream.”

“Damned lucky. We might never have found it, otherwise.”

“OK, let's get the drones down here.”

Icy coldness descended on Yoshiko as the drones hauled back the black sheet.

It had a doll's head.

A very oversized doll.

Water, from the nearby stream, had hastened its putrefaction, and the head was bloated and rubbery, almost spherical.

The rest of the corpse was half covered in a torn suit: some of it dark green, the rest darker. The lifeless limbs were splayed at odd angles.

“X-ray shows a circular hole in the parietal bone. Graser wound.”

The round belly was marbled, blood vessels prominently purple. Lower down, the remains were covered in adipocere: rank-smelling and soapy, fatty acids formed from decomposing fat.

Yoshiko could see little sign of depredation. Tetsuo would have been pleased with that: he had never liked insects.

“Oh, my God, ma'am. You shouldn't be here.”

Sloppily sculpted from decaying meat, the doll's unrecognizable features stared past Yoshiko, dead white eyes focussed on eternity.