She eyed him for a long moment.
"And you don't think Kaj will do it," she said at last.
He nodded.
"Can you locate someone like that?" he said.
"No," she said, "I don't think I can. At least, not quickly. But a couple of the Soldiers are originally from this planet... I'll ask." She paused.
"Quietly," she added.
CHAPTER 17
Three days later another delivery of supplies, packed into several container shells, was loaded onto the conveyor belt that slanted up from the spaceport pad into the depths of the ship known as the Konrad Macklin. Within minutes after they had vanished into the ship, the belt began to move in the opposite direction, and shortly thereafter a sealed utility bin, of the kind used to hold waste and construction debris, rode down the belt. Even before it reached bottom a pair of mechanical arms had risen from the cargo vehicle that had delivered the supplies; less than a minute later the vehicle was moving off in the direction of the Customs Office, where the contents of the bin would be reviewed before it was allowed to proceed into the Cetan economy through the commercial exit gates.
The containers that had entered the Konrad Macklin had not been so inspected; most planets worried more about what might come onto their surface than about what might be leaving.
By that time the second of the newly arrived containers had been opened in a small room just off the ship's cargo hold. A layer of sound-deadening adhesive flooring, each section in its individual carton and all of them stacked on end, was removed, revealing, under a false bottom, the still form of a blond woman dressed in a loose, off-white shift—Pallas Salvador. She was removed to a bed in a stateroom, where she was left to waken naturally, monitored by medical sensors and a video port.
Her waking was slow, a ragged alternation of approaches to consciousness and relapses into darkness; but eventually her mind responded to the urge to push through the blackness, and shortly thereafter her eyes opened to a dimly lit, utilitarian room that she fuzzily recognized, from its architecture, as being in a spaceship.
Even dim, the light caused the headache with which she had awakened to bloom with an increased intensity. She closed her eyelids, hoping the pain would ease enough that she could think, at least a little; and after a few minutes, it did—a little.
She tried to sit up, knowing she would have to pay for the effort with pain. On her second attempt she managed to push herself back enough that she could sit upright, propped against the coated wall at the head of the bed; and she sat there for some minutes, her head down on raised knees while her hands massaged her temples. She attempted to think about her situation, but it was hard to stay on any line of thought when she hurt so much.
A few minutes later the door opened, and she looked up to see Antonia Lu looking in at her.
"Are you all right?" Toni asked, stepping in from the corridor and letting the door close behind her.
Grateful that the light from the corridor—a glare in comparison to the room's subdued lighting—had been shut off, Pallas Salvador started to nod; but hastily aborted the movement as her head threatened to split open from temple to temple.
"I don't know," she said, trying to keep her voice down so as to minimize the pain. "I guess so." Beneath the pain a tide of irritation was rising: she had always hated appearing weak, and she was certain the tears in her eyes would be interpreted in that fashion.
"I know your head is hurting quite a lot," Toni said, her voice soft and sympathetic. "It's an unavoidable side effect of the drugs used on you."
"Drugs?" Pallas asked, unthinkingly throwing her head back; she winced and clamped her eyes shut.
"I'm afraid so," Toni said. She was smiling in sympathy when Pallas opened her eyes again "We think we know which drugs you were given, and we believe we have something to counteract the aftereffects you're feeling." She held up a slim silvery tube.
"May I inject you with this?"
"Yes," Pallas Salvador said. "No! Wait—" She shook her head; and then hissed an intake of air through clenched teeth, clutching at her head as her eyes snapped shut, tears pooling at the bases of her lashes.
"It hurts even to look at you," Toni said. "You don't have to take this if you don't want to, of course. Would you prefer I left you alone for a while, to sort things out?"
The blond woman lowered an arm and forced her eyes open, looking upward at Toni through the blur of the moisture beaded on her lashes.
"No," she said, keeping her voice low. "Give it to me."
Toni held the end of the tube to the inside of the other's wrist; and for the briefest of instants Pallas heard a tiny hissing sound, while her wrist seemed to feel a cool breath.
"You should feel better quickly," Toni said as she pulled her hand back.
"Thank you," Pallas said in a low voice. "Where are we?"
"On one of our ships," Toni said. "But don't speak for a few minutes—just close your eyes and try to relax; it'll speed your recovery."
"But—"
"Don't speak," Toni said. "Please. I'm going to get you something to eat—we think you've been unconscious for quite a while, so as you start to feel more like your usual self you'll probably begin to think you're starving. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
And she was gone.
Already Pallas could feel the headache easing, and with it the muscle tenseness that had been making her grimace and clench her teeth. She eased herself back against the wall, grateful for the change—and also grateful to find herself able to think more clearly.
How had she gotten on a ship? Antonia Lu's words suggested that she, Pallas, had been drugged by someone before she arrived here. What had happened? She instinctively began inventorying the sensations of her body, a little afraid of what she might find. She was wearing one of her nightgowns, with no underwear beneath it, which suggested that whatever had happened had occurred while she was sleeping; but she could find nothing unusual in how her body felt to itself—at least, nothing that could not be attributed to the drugs she had been dosed with. But she needed to use the bathroom.
She was struggling with her memory when Antonia Lu came back into the room, smiling and carrying a light paper-material tray.
"Here's a little breakfast," she said, placing the tray gently on Pallas' hastily lowered knees and then pulling a cloth napkin out from where it had been tucked into the self-belt of her cherry-red blouse. "Our medician suggested you eat very lightly and slowly for the moment, so we'll see how this poached egg and toast goes down; I'll get you some more when you're up to it."
"That sounds like a good idea," Pallas said. "I didn't really notice how my stomach was feeling when my head hurt so much, but now I guess I'm a little queasy. But I'm thirsty."
"That's what Kaj expected—that's our medician, Kaj Menowsky," Toni said. "He also said he wants to check you over after you've eaten and rested a bit."
"Check me?" Pallas asked. "Is there something wrong?"
"No, no," Toni raised one hand a little. "He ran some tests on you when you first got here, and didn't find anything more than the effects of the drug. But Kaj was Exotic-trained, and he isn't happy unless he can—well, let's say he's really thorough . . . now cat! That container holds a pint of a sweetened tea."
"It's good," Pallas said in a few minutes. "And I think it's going to stay down."
"That's good," Toni said. "Now why don't I leave you alone to get a little more down, and get some rest? You can call me anytime you want, using the control pad on the wall there—I've coded my number into it."
"I think I've had enough, and I am tired," Pallas said. "I feel as if I've been wrung out. But what happened to me? How did I get here?"
"I can't tell you much," Toni said, "and I should probably let someone who knows more talk to you about that. All I know is that our security people stopped a group of people who were apparently trying to kidnap you."
"Kidnap me!" The blond woman's eyes opened wide and she sat up, swinging her feet o
ff the bed and having to clutch at the tray to keep it from sliding to the floor. "Who would do that?"
"As I said, we don't know much. Our people have been investigating, but I haven't heard what, if anything, they've found." "Am I still in danger?"
"Absolutely not," Toni said. "That's why we're on our ship—no one can get to you here." "But—"
"No more questions!" Toni said, softening the imperative words with another sympathetic smile. "Rest! If you don't call me before then, I'll wake you in a couple of hours. Then, if you're up to it, you'll eat a little more, Kaj will look you over—and maybe by that time we'll have more to tell you. Now just relax. You know where the room controls are."
"All right," Pallas nodded. Fatigue was winning out over the remains of her fear and anger.
Somewhat more than three hours later, Pallas Salvador, now dressed in dark blue ship's coveralls, was sitting back in one of the easy chairs in Favored of God’s lounge, the remains of a light lunch still resting on the small auxiliary table next to her. She had not eaten much of it. She was trying to make herself relax.
For the entire time she had been sitting there, she had played with her food, unsuccessfully trying to avoid watching Bleys Ahrens, who was working quietly at a desk on the other side of a long clear space that bisected the large room. He had insisted, when Toni led Pallas into the room, that Pallas eat and relax before they talked; and now she was eager to talk with him, but also—what? Afraid?
"Bleys, are you free to talk with Pallas Salvador?" Toni asked now. Pallas knew Toni had been keeping an attentive eye on her, from her own desk. Bleys looked up from the display on his screen.
"Certainly," he said, his voice, low and calm, soothing her anxiety a little. "No, don't get up, please. We'll both be more comfortable if I come over there."
He walked across to her, his long legs in their dark gray trousers and black boots covering the distance quickly even though he was pulling his oversize chair with him. He placed the chair in a position to her left front, a move Pallas recognized, from her training at Others' headquarters on Association, as designed to avoid the confrontational connotations of a face-to-face situation.
"I won't ask how you're feeling," he said, smiling at her. His white teeth gleamed out of the lightly tanned face beneath his dark hair, and the collar of his white work shirt was open. Even seated, he seemed to tower above her. "Not because I don't care, but because I know what Kaj Menowsky has learned about you, and what you've told Toni."
She found herself relaxing. She really could use a little more sleep, she thought. That slight accent that colored his speech pattern was quite pleasant to listen to ...
"Everyone assures me you haven't been damaged," Bleys Ahrens was continuing, "and that you've been making a solid and fast recovery. We're all glad to hear it, and we're determined to make sure that whatever happened to you doesn't happen to you—or to anyone else among our people—ever again." His last words had taken on a cold tone, while his eyes seemed suddenly to become hard, his jaw muscles to tighten.
Pallas' eyes opened wide, and she sat up in her chair. She had not been thinking in terms of anger, but Bleys' words seemed to fan some hidden ember inside her.
"What did happen to me?" she asked. "And who did it? I don't remember anything at all, and Antonia Lu said she didn't know much—"
"And we don't know much," Bleys said, his voice again low and calm, soothing. In response, he noted, her breathing slowed, the skin around her eyes loosening a little. The purposeful manipulation of her emotions into a series of quick variations would, he knew, leave her more susceptible to his suggestions than she might otherwise be.
"I'm going to tell you everything we've learned so far," he went on, putting just a hint of a smile on the edge of his serious, determined expression. "I'd like you to listen carefully, and tell me whenever you hear something you think is incorrect, or whenever you remember anything—anything at all. Will you do that?"
"Of course," she said. Her chin lifted slightly as her voice became a little stronger. "You can count on me." "I thought so," he said, looking pleased.
Immediately, his trained perceptions noted that she was reacting positively to his approval. He leaned forward in his chair, an action that had the twin effects of bringing his eyes down to the level of hers and moving his face closer to hers. He could see the pupils of her eyes dilating in response to the increased sense of intimacy he had evoked.
"As you know," he began, "there were two attacks on my party while we were on tour." She nodded, her eyes, large and grave, focused on his face.
"Of course, we let you know we were all right." She nodded again.
"What we didn't tell you," he continued, "was that after thinking about the implications of the attack, we became concerned that you yourself"—her head drew back a little—"as well as your colleagues, might be in some danger, too."
"I think I see what you're saying," she said, her words quiet and timid at first, but strengthening and coming faster as she continued: "You're suggesting that the attack on you might not have been due to your position as a Friendly official, but to your work as—as one of us."
"Exactly," he said, smiling at her. "Of course we didn't know the reason for the attack, since the people who planted the bomb weren't found; but we decided to take no chances, and I ordered some of my security people to stand guard over your offices—and over you personally."
"But why didn't you tell me?" Pallas said. "I could certainly have—"
"That was a hard decision," he interrupted her, "but one I made personally." He paused to look her straight in the eye, as if offering her a chance to challenge him.
"That's what my main job in this organization is," he said. "I make decisions. Every organization has to have someone to do that—someone who can do it, and do it well, even when the situation is . . . difficult."
He smiled at her again.
"You weren't in charge here the last time I was on Ceta," he went on, "and I haven't had time to get to know you very well. But I made a decision to trust you would understand, later.... I thought I'd be able to count on your agreeing—as all of our Others have always agreed—to put yourself at the disposal of our movement."
"But of course!" she said. "You can't doubt—"
"—and I didn't," he interrupted again. "I did not doubt at all; and so I did what was best for our movement." He smiled again, almost shyly.
"In short," he went on, "I used you."
"'Used me?"
"Used you," he said, nodding. "I used you as bait. I had to find out who was behind the attack on me—I had to know if it was part of an attack on our movement. So I set our people to observe whether any further attacks were made—which meant they had to watch you, because you were the next most obvious target, if the attacks were in fact aimed at our Others."
"Yes, I see that," she said. "But why didn't you tell me?"
"I had several reasons for that," he said. "For one, it was possible that if you knew our people were watching, you might change your behavior—and our success depended on you continuing to follow your usual routines."
She started to object, but he interrupted once more.
"The other reason was perhaps less obvious," he said, "but was more fundamental: we had no safe way to let you know what we thought might be going on."
"I don't understand!"
"Remember, we were on the other side of the planet," he said, "in the Friendly consulate in Abbeyville."
She nodded, recalling his messages from that location.
"At that point," Bleys continued, "we were unable to communicate safely with you anymore."
" 'Safely'?" She blinked.
"Yes," he said. "If you think about it, you'll realize that in both attacks, the attackers had to have been informed of our exact itinerary." He held up a hand, forestalling her exclamation.
"In short, we believe someone is able to intercept our communications to you," he said.
"I see!" She nearly y
elled it. Recovering herself, she continued in a lower tone: "I do see... but I thought our communications were secure—" There was now a question in her tone.
"So did we," he said, a rueful look on his face. "But now you'll realize, we couldn't safely let you know what was happening, because whoever was reading our messages—"
"—would know we were on to them!"
He smiled at her.
"So we trusted you would understand later," he said. "And I see you do."
She smiled back. It seemed so clear and right, the way he explained it.
"Oh, yes," she murmured.
For a few moments there was silence in the lounge.
Eventually Pallas was led back to her room. She was sleepy, but filled with a kind of exhilaration. She felt she had a heightened understanding of the unity of the Others—her Others—under Bleys' leadership, and of the Tightness of their work. She drifted into sleep on a slow, smooth tide of warm feelings that she hugged to herself, smiling.
Meanwhile, Bleys was telling Toni, back in the lounge, that he was now convinced that Pallas Salvador was not one of their unknown enemies.
"I agree," Toni said. "That doesn't mean she's entirely without fault here."
"As head of the organization on this planet, she's of course ultimately responsible for everything," Bleys said. "Or did you have something more specific in mind?"
Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 Page 17