The Sagittarius Whorl: Book Three of the Rampart Worlds Trilogy

by Julian May

  “No,” Eve insisted. Her eyes were burning in her pale face and both hands were clenched into fists. “No impostor could have done the things my brother Asa did. He accomplished far more than the Rampart-Galapharma consolidation. He made himself my good right arm! He’s kind and affirming and strong. He’s never tried to undermine my authority. Thanks to him, Rampart has become a respected member of the Big Seven.”

  “Thanks to him,” I said, finally speaking up in my altered voice, “trade with the Haluk is the bulwark of Rampart’s prosperity. But it won’t last, Evie. The aliens will take it all away. The impostor has inserted Haluk demiclones into Rampart corporate management.”

  “The Faceless One speaks!” drawled Crista Wenzel.

  “And you’d better listen,” Adam Stanislawski said.

  Eve cried out, “This is ridiculous! Everyone in the Concern has been DNA-tested regularly since the Sontag committee started its flap in August. Including me. Including Asa.”

  “Who did the testing?” I demanded. “Rampart Internal Security?”

  “Of course.”

  “Evie—”

  “Don’t call me that!” she shouted.

  I said, “Madam Chief Executive Officer, if the Rampart president is a demiclone, don’t you think InSec would be the first part of the Concern he’d subvert? … Have you forgotten our turncoat pal Ollie Schneider so soon? I know how devastating this revelation is. How shocking. Joanna showed me holovids of the impersonator in action. He’s utterly convincing. A corporate team player—exactly the kind of man you and Simon hoped and prayed I’d turn into after the big trial, ready to fulfill the family hopes that I’d dashed over and over again in the past. But you know in your heart that the real Asahel Frost could never have become that man.”

  “I know nothing of the sort!” she said, but the conviction that had been so rock-solid before might have been faltering.

  With the exception of Sam Yamamoto, who was whispering into the stylomike of his computer, the other directors were listening to Eve’s and my exchange with expressions that ranged from blank puzzlement to sick uncertainty.

  I asked her, “Would you be willing to have independent experts assay the DNA of every top Rampart executive? Including that of your so-called brother Asa?”

  She lifted her chin and smiled coldly at me. “Of course. I’ll authorize it personally—after the Haluk colony bill passes.”

  “The hell you will!” Adam Stanislawski exclaimed furiously.

  “Don’t try to bully me, Chairman,” Eve snapped. “Rampart is my corporation, not yours, and I won’t see its best interests compromised. If my decision doesn’t please you, put your stake on the block and we’ll buy you out.”

  Sadly, I said, “Oh, Evie. Are you willing to set aside all your past suspicions about the Haluk, all their treachery and the personal suffering you endured at their hands? Never mind that the Commonwealth of Human Worlds might also be in deadly danger—”

  “There is no plausible evidence of a Haluk threat to humanity,” she stated. Her voice was flat, almost without inflection. “The true Asahel Frost has proved that to our satisfaction.”

  “Under psychotronic interrogation?”

  “Don’t be idiotic.”

  Simon suddenly said, “Who is he?”

  Everyone looked at my father, who pointed a trembling finger at me and spoke in an agonized rasp. “If you’re Asa, then who’s this crafty sidewinder who’s taken us all in, played us for fools?”

  “He’s Alistair Drummond,” I said.

  Eve cried, “That’s a lie!” The other directors seemed petrified.

  Simon’s gaunt face twisted with some devastating emotion. “Turn off your privacy visor, you! Right this fuckin’ minute! I’ll know if you’re really my son!”

  “Maybe not, Pop,” I said. “The Haluk have worked me over in a dystasis tank.” And to my sister: “Same as they did to you, Eve, once upon a time on the planet Cravat.”

  “Quit shilly-shallying, dammit!” Simon said. “Show us your face!”

  “All right.” I pulled off my constricting mittens and flicked the switch of the visor.

  Pandemonium.

  As the room erupted, I removed the anorak and handed it to Joanna, who still stood beside me, and whispered a few words to her.

  She said, “Are you sure?”

  “Watch him. Go over to the refreshment bar. I don’t think there’s any immediate danger, but don’t take your eyes off him for a minute. I won’t be in a position to do anything during the tests. I’ll have to depend on you. Can you manage?”

  She folded the Anonyme and held it tightly against her. “Yes.”

  Adam Stanislawski endured the uproar for only a few minutes before shouting, “That’s enough!”

  In the ensuing silence, Gunter Eckert said, “Chief Superintendent Mangan. Please use your machine to test this—this man’s DNA.”

  Bea said, “Very well.” She moved the equipment cart next to my chair and set to work.

  Joanna was helping herself to coffee. Simon sat slumped in his chair, eyes closed, lips mumbling silently. Eve’s expression was stubborn and aloof. Adam Stanislawski wandered up to the head of the table and spoke in an undertone to Gunter Eckert and John Ellington. Millstone, Scranton, and Sam Yamamoto waited with expectant faces. Crista Wenzel, the Chief Technical Officer, left her seat and took up a position where she could observe the DNA analyzer’s display.

  After a few minutes the machine confirmed my identity.

  Wenzel said to me, “Now I’d like to use the psychotronic device to interrogate you briefly, if you please.” She smiled minimally. “Or if you don’t please.”

  I submitted to the hookup. When the truth machine activated, I felt an unpleasant sensation, as though an entire hive of nanobot bees had invaded my cranium. Wenzel asked only one question.

  “Are you Asahel Frost?”

  I said, “Yes, I am.”

  Zap. Momentary blankout. Pain.

  Wenzel watched as Bea touched several control pads. The CTO studied the display, nodded, and addressed the board. “This machine also confirms his identity. In my opinion we have no choice but to tentatively accept these test results, pending confirmation by an independent examining team. I so move, and call for a second.”

  “I second the motion of the CTO,” said John Ellington.

  Gunter Eckert said, “Those in favor, please raise your hands.”

  Ellington, Crista Wenzel, Thora Scranton.

  “Those opposed.”

  Eve, Caleb Millstone, and—shit!—Sam Yamamoto.

  I looked at him. He shrugged.

  Gunter said, “Simon? Are you abstaining?”

  The old man had tears streaming down his face. He said to me, “It’ll destroy Rampart, you know. After everything we went through. The other Concerns will wipe us off the map for screwing up the Haluk trade.”

  “We’re going to face some tough times, Pop,” I said. “All of us, not only Rampart. The greed and stupidity of the Hundred Concerns have put humanity at terrible risk. I’m going to the media this afternoon to talk about it, and then I’ll repeat my allegations before the Assembly. Whatever this Board of Directors decides, I don’t intend to let Alistair Drummond and the Haluk win.”

  Simon’s green eyes blazed at me with some of their old fire. “You gonna stick with us, then, afterward?”

  I hesitated, knowing what he was asking. Sighed. “Yes, you blackmailing old coot. If I survive this fucking mess.”

  “I vote aye,” Simon said.

  Eve shook her head. “Oh, Pop. What have you done?”

  “What I had to do,” he said to her coolly. “What’s more, you know it, missy! Rampart’s not your child any more’n it’s mine. And don’t you forget it.”

  The virus hadn’t sapped my father’s old feistiness, or his common sense, either.

  Gunter Eckert touched the computer display on the table in front of him. “In the absence of our Corporate Secretary, I herewi
th record that the motion has carried.” His eyes swept the group. “We now face a peculiar situation. Our election of the erstwhile Asahel Frost to the positions of president and syndic is nullified—”

  “No, it’s not,” I said. “You elected Asahel Frost. I’m Asahel Frost. I hold the offices and I still have a seat on this board, by virtue of my quarterstake.” Thus giving notice that any attempt to vote me out would fail for lack of the required stakeholder votes, I spoke to Yamamoto. “Do you agree with my position, Mr. Chief Legal Officer?”

  “In my opinion, you’re correct.” Sam spoke blandly. “Although I doubt there’s any precedent to support you.”

  “You can’t do this!” Eve exclaimed. “You have no right!”

  I ignored her, wondering how Alistair Drummond had managed to turn this intelligent, decisive woman into a deluded fool. Perhaps Simon was right about her thinking of the Concern as a person with a life of its own. Legally, of course, it was—but not morally. Trust a lawyer to make the distinction.

  “As Rampart president,” I said, “I exercise my right to relinquish the office of syndic, and appoint John Ellington to fill the vacancy. Do you accept, John?”

  Almost inaudibly: “Yes.”

  “I instruct you to immediately contact those Delegates of the Commonwealth Assembly who represent our planets. You will urge them to vote against the upcoming measure granting the Haluk three hundred new Perseus colonies. If your persuasions fail, you may expect the gravest possible consequences.”

  “I understand.” He threw a bitter glance at Adam Stanislawski. “I have every confidence that the Delegates will respond appropriately.”

  A silence.

  “Is there any other new business?” Gunter Eckert asked formally.

  Simon let out a cackle of laughter that hovered on the edge of hysteria. “The hell with business. Let’s all get on over to the Assembly chamber and watch the friggin’ fireworks!”

  “It’s my intention,” I declared, “to request that ICS, CCID, and ECID teams immediately begin genetic profile comparison tests of every person in top-echelon management and every member of the Rampart security force. Eventually, each Rampart employee will be tested. In Toronto this action will be supervised by Chairman Gunter Eckert, as soon as his identity is verified by Chief Superintendent Mangan, and by Karl Nazarian, who has already been tested by her. Karl will resume his former position as Vice President for Special Projects at once, appointed by me. In our Seriphos outplanet headquarters, I will request that CCID personnel immediately test Zared Frost, Rampart Chief Perseus Operations Officer, and Matilde Gregoire, Vice President for Perseus Security. They will then supervise testing of Rampart executives in that region. In our Hygeia headquarters similar testing will be under the supervision of Orion COO Edison Vivieros and Orion Security VP Reinhard Fournier. Does any member of the board wish to move an objection?”

  No one spoke. Eve was staring at her clasped hands.

  I said, “Then I move this board meeting be adjourned.”

  “Second,” said Thora Scranton. “Helly, are you giving out freebie tix to your media circus over at the Assembly?”

  Good old Thora; we’d always been buddies. I showed my inhuman grin. “Anyone interested can join the party … after Bea Mangan tests their DNA.”

  “Except John,” said Adam Stanislawski, “who has other business to take care of.”

  Ellington had already risen from his seat and started for the door. He said sourly, “Stop twisting it, Adam. I told you I’d convince the Delegates.”

  “I think not,” said Sam Yamamoto. He stood up suddenly at his place, a Kagi pistol in his hand. “Come back to the table, John. The rest of you, sit still.”

  Thunderstruck, Eve whispered, “Sam?”

  Adam Stanislawski said, “Oh, shit.”

  “Is Alistair Drummond on his way, Sam?” I inquired archly. “Or did you just send out a general mole-call on your computer?”

  “Guess.”

  “He’s a demiclone,” I said.

  “Shut up!” Fake Sam shouted. He fired at me twice. The blue beams hit me square in the chest. The people at the table cried out in horror as I fell from my chair and landed in a heap on the floor, praying Sam wouldn’t try a head shot. A sharp smell of ozone and burnt fabric filled the air.

  I heard starchy Caleb Millstone call Sam an unexpectedly filthy name. Lying on my right side, I had a perfect view of the demiclone as he pulled Simon to his feet, pressing the muzzle of the photon gun into the old man’s temple. “Everyone sit down and keep quiet! My people will be here in a few minutes and we’ll sort everything out.”

  Eve said, “Oh, Asa …”

  I couldn’t see her face, but the changed timbre of her voice told me that she had finally accepted the truth. I hoped that it wasn’t too late to matter.

  John Ellington addressed the impostor. “Do you seriously think Mevanery Morgan is going to allow unauthorized persons access to the executive elevator?”

  Fake Sam smiled. “She will, if the alternative is watching Simon Frost’s brain go extra-crispy.” He swiveled his captive around toward Gunter Eckert. “Call her in here, Chairman.”

  I wasn’t hurt, of course. My body armor had saved me. I waited for an opportunity to make a move without endangering my father.

  Eckert was hesitating, and it made the demi nervous. “Do it now, Gunter! Do it, damn you!”

  He brandished the Kagi for emphasis, and it shifted momentarily away from Simon’s head and pointed harmlessly at the boardroom wall behind Eckert. I braced one arm and leg and hurled myself crabwise at the legs of the two men—

  —at the same time that Joanna, still standing behind Fake Sam at the refreshment bar, shot him in the back with the Ivanov I’d left in my anorak pocket.

  I phoned Karl Nazarian, who was waiting with his gang at the Rampart Tower skyport, and asked for his suggestions on what we should do next. Our contingency plans hadn’t included a demiclone on the Board of Directors who would tip off his alien confederates inside the building.

  Karl told us to call the cops.

  CCID was clearly flabbergasted at receiving a request for armed assistance from an Amalgamated Concern—big businesses always cleaned up their own messes—but Gunter Eckert’s authority was not to be denied. Inside of twenty minutes Rampart Tower was sealed and swarming with Criminal Investigation personnel corraling Rampart executives and security employees. Half an hour after that, forensic teams from ICS and half a dozen other government agencies were administering DNA tests.

  Only a handful of InSec demis offered armed resistance. Even fewer managed to escape. All of the executives submitted meekly to the testing.

  Karl and his crew came from the skyport to the boardroom for instructions shortly after CCID arrived. By the time he reached us, Bea Mangan had already checked the DNA of Gunter Eckert and the other members of the board, as well as that of Morgan the Gorgon, who was vastly indignant that we should think a Haluk capable of impersonating her. Everyone was legitimate except snoozing Sam.

  I gave Karl custody of the unconscious demiclone, then arranged for a CCID SWAT team to accompany him and his associates to Rampart InSec’s psychotronic lab. Karl had orders to commandeer the place and interrogate anyone in the building whose DNA wasn’t up to human snuff. I promised to check with him after the second act of the day’s melodrama played out at Assembly House.

  A felony theft-of-identity warrant was issued for the arrest of a human John Doe having the spurious iris-ID of Asahel Frost. Among other places, the APB was transmitted to every starport on Earth. I hoped we weren’t locking the barn door after the horse had escaped. One of the messages sent by Fake Sam had gone to my old personal code, so Alistair Drummond knew we were hot on his trail.

  As we prepared to leave, Adam Stanislawski declared he’d had enough up-close-and-personal excitement for one day. He intended to watch the rest of the fun and games from the safety of his own private suite in Macrodur Tower. Cassius Potter dr
opped him off there before flying Bea, Joanna, and me to the media conference.

  It took place pretty much as Ef Sontag and I had scripted it.

  We appeared side by side, I in my concealing Joru robes, at a podium on a small improvised dais at the very center of the rotunda that fronted the Assembly chamber proper. Bea Mangan, her trusty equipment, and Joanna were poised just behind us, awaiting their cues. Experienced Macrodur flacks helped Ef’s PR staff orchestrate the technicalities.

  There must have been close to six hundred reporters crowded into the glass-domed circular foyer, all festooned with the tools of their trade. Huge holovid monitors had been set up in adjacent areas to accommodate the nonmedia audience, who numbered in the thousands. Displays in the Assembly dining rooms also showed the news conference live, at the request of interested Delegates.

  I hoped the Servant of Servants of Luk and his entourage were paying close attention, too. A member of Ef’s committee had reported that the Haluk were already in the building.

  After Sontag greeted the journalists and made brief introductory remarks, I flung off my concealing black-and-white robes to dramatic effect, standing on the dais naked to the waist while the cameras went crazy. Ef told the crowd who I was, why I looked like a Haluk, and what I was going to talk about today inside the Assembly chamber.

  Then Bea tested my genes and not only proved that I was Asahel Frost, but also demonstrated that I had been subjected to illegal demiclone therapy—presumably by the same entities whose superficial appearance I now wore. In a touching character-witness testimonial, Joanna declared once again that I was certainly her former husband, a man unjustly convicted of crimes and deprived of citizenship, whom she had never ceased to respect.

  Connected to the Hogan truth machine and interrogated by Sontag, I told the citizens of the Confederation of Human Worlds how I had been kidnapped by the Haluk and cloned. I described how my Evil Twin had taken my place at Rampart so as to gain control of the genen vector PD32:C2, and how he had used my name and reputation to promote the Haluk cause. I disavowed the lies that had cast doubt on the evidence presented by Sontag’s committee. I dared the impostor wearing my face to come before the media and get tested as I had been.