"I think you're originally from one of the Friendlies?" he asked. "Your voice tells me so."
"I was raised on Harmony by my grandparents after my mother and father died," she said. "But I was born on Mara and spent the first part of my life there."
"I'm sorry to hear about your parents," he said. "Would you tell me what happened to them?"
"They were killed in a trafficway accident on Freiland," she said. "They were on leave from their ship."
"And you decided to go into their profession?"
"Yes," she said, her brown eyes shining a little. "The crew of the Sombok became like family to me, and helped raise me." She smiled. "Captain Broadus was one of them, although only a junior officer at the time, and that's why she hired me."
"You've come to the right ship," Bleys said, nodding seriously. "The captain will turn you into a veteran."
"Yes, Great Teacher."
"You prepared this, you said," he continued, looking down at the large plate in the center of the tray. It had a cover that prevented him from seeing the dish that awaited him, but an exotic aroma was rapidly filling the room. "What is it?"
"It's a curried lamb dish, Great Teacher," she said. Then she blushed. "It's from a recipe of my family, but I've changed it a little."
"I see you brought me coffee, orange juice and water," Bleys said. "Are those appropriate to drink with your dish?" Shira blushed again, but smiled.
"Perhaps the Great Teacher would like a glass of beer?" she said. "Tea is traditional with curry, but in my family, we find that a good Japanese-style beer sets off the flavor of the spices very well."
"Would you get me one, then?" he asked.
She did.
CHAPTER 35
The elderly shuttle had been ordered to hold its distance from the Final Encyclopedia; there was other traffic. But the driver had his hands full doing so, because the Encyclopedia was no ordinary satellite.
Of all the artificial satellites orbiting Old Earth, only the Final Encyclopedia spent the energy to hold itself in an unnatural sort of geosynchronous orbit.
Properly placed, satellites falling in their orbits about a planet could remain, seemingly stationary, above a fixed point on the ground below. But the laws of physics dictated that a satellite could occupy such a geostationary position only if its orbit followed the planet's equator.
The Final Encyclopedia, however, held a fixed position above a point in Earth's northern hemisphere; and it did so only because it constantly used drive engines to counter the demands of the laws of physics.
Bleys knew that the fixed point the Encyclopedia hung above was the location of the estate where the boy Hal Mayne had been raised. And that knowledge haunted the Other.
The day after he learned that fact, Bleys had gone to the Mayne estate, at Dahno's orders, to take it over for use as the site of the first meeting of the Others' top leaders—a visit that turned into disaster when the boy's three elderly tutors were killed. The boy himself had vanished, running from the only home he had known since, at the age of two, he had been found, alone, on a spaceship drifting near Old Earth.
As his shuttle strained to remain in place near the Final Encyclopedia, Bleys looked out a port at the mother planet. She was close, and she was beautiful, a ball of blue draped with white swirls that crept from under the black crescent of the planet's own shadow.
Bleys had never been able to learn why the Encyclopedia was held in its unusual, and so particular, orbit. The satellite's staff had never explained its positioning, and he could find no logical justification for the effort.
He had speculated that the Encyclopedia might have been placed there so it could keep an eye on the boy. But that made no sense: the Final Encyclopedia had gone to its place about seventy-five years before Hal Mayne was even born.
As for the converse of that idea—that the boy had been purposely placed in a position to be raised directly beneath the Encyclopedia— he could find neither a reason for doing so, nor any indication that the boy's guardians had sought to arrange it.
When Bleys had discovered that strange quasi-connection between the boy and the legendary orbiting institution, he had examined the public records. He had learned that the land on which the Mayne estate sat, after being the site of a series of hobby ranches and recreational resorts for more than two hundred years, had been purchased by a Europe-based investment bank—more than fifty years before Hal Mayne's birth and well after the day the Final Encyclopedia had achieved its orbit. The land had then remained unused until it was sold to the trust that had been set up for the boy out of the proceeds of the sale of the ship in which he was found.
That trust had been organized in accordance with unsigned instructions found on the ship, and was overseen by directors appointed by designated financial institutions, government bodies, and humanitarian groups—none of whom seemed to have any connection at all with the Final Encyclopedia.
It was the kind of story that begged the listener to make up some sort of mystical relationship between the boy and the satellite. Bleys had no belief in mystical relationships—but he also had nothing to offer in their place.
That was only the first of the strangenesses that had led him to see in Hal Mayne—as boy and later as man—an opponent to be respected—
"Sir," the driver's voice interrupted his musings, "I have the Encyclopedia for you. Switch the intercom to channel C and I'll put her through."
"Thank you," Bleys said; and reached to the intercom mounted on the bulkhead in front of him. He pushed the plastic button marked C; it seemed to stick for a moment—like the shuttle, this intercom was elderly—but then he heard a click—
"This is Orbital Communications, the Final Encyclopedia," a young-sounding soprano voice said. "We're told you have a request."
"Thank you for speaking to me," Bleys said. "My name is Bleys Ahrens, and I'd like to speak with Hal Mayne—I understand he's presently working in the Encyclopedia."
"I will advise Hal Mayne you wish to speak with him, Bleys Ahrens. Please stand by."
"Wait!" Bleys said.
"Yes?"
"I should have been more specific," Bleys said. "What I'd like is permission to meet Hal Mayne in person, there in the Final Encyclopedia. Would you ask him if he'll agree to that?"
"I'll ask him," the voice said. "Please have your shuttle maintain its position."
The voice keyed off without waiting for his reply.
Bleys sat back in his seat, away from the intercom he had unconsciously leaned into while speaking. The voice had been pleasant and polite, blending innocence with competence; and he thought he could, sight unseen, almost draw a portrait of the speaker.
The vast majority of the populations of the Younger Worlds would never listen to voices like that. Voices like that, or other contact with the human people inside the Final Encyclopedia, would negate the propaganda campaign that was portraying the Final Encyclopedia to the Younger Worlds as an inhuman institution working to craft superweapons to be used against the Younger Worlds. The Final Encyclopedia, it was said, hid behind its phase-shield to conceal its part in a grand conspiracy that included Old Earth, the Exotics and the Dorsai; a conspiracy aimed at robbing Old Earth's former colonies of their freedoms.
If the Final Encyclopedia had no hidden purpose, it was asked, why did it need a shield that, using the same physics that allowed interstellar travel, would disintegrate any physical object that touched it, scattering its component subatomic parts evenly throughout the Universe?
The message was, so far, being spread quietly, in unofficial forms and in subtle terms; but it was effective, at least among a small minority7. A simplistic view of history, after all, supported fears of such a conspiracy: Old Earth had certainly tried, several times in the past, to dominate the Younger Worlds; and every planet had near-mythical stories about the fearsome Dorsai men of war and the crafty Exotics.
It did not concern Bleys that the majority of the Younger Worlds' populations had not yet
bought into the rumors; over time the minority voices would get louder, until the unpersuaded were run over, stampeded or intimidated by fears of being labeled unpatriotic.
The Younger Worlds, without quite realizing it, were well on their way to being prepared for war. Economic structures were being altered and assets appropriated. Recruitment of military personnel, although it had plateaued of late, would soon be phased out; the mechanisms for large-scale conscription were even now being put in place on those worlds that did not already have such.
Most of the populations as yet had no idea what was going on; control of the media and governments prevented reporting of the more sensitive news, or of any significant analysis.
Many of his Others had found it difficult to understand that it was not necessary that a majority of their worlds' populations actually believe the propaganda. All that was required, he had explained, was that those unconvinced of the reality of the conspiracy and the superweapons become apprehensive—which they would if they heard no contradicting voices. Afraid of the consequences if their skeptical instincts were wrong, they would see little harm in supporting enhanced defensive measures; that was all that would be needed. Fear and hatred, even if limited to a minority, would cow many of the potentially dissenting voices, who could not stomach setting themselves up to be denounced as traitors.
Now only a small portion of Old Earth could be seen from the viewport. Bleys hoped the young voice he had spoken to would not be killed when the end came for the Final Encyclopedia.... The shuttle's slow movement had been altering his view of the mother planet; he didn't mind: he could see a small portion of the vast sea of stars.
It was slightly less than two minutes more before the driver told Bleys that the Final Encyclopedia was calling for him. "This is Bleys Ahrens."
"This is the Final Encyclopedia," a voice said. It was not the young soprano he had spoken with before, but a slightly more mature, but still female, alto voice.
"Hal Mayne says he'll see you, Bleys Ahrens," the new voice continued. "We'll advise your driver when we have an opening, and you'll be vectored into Bay One. Someone will meet you there."
"Thank you," Bleys said. He registered a slight uncomfortable-ness at not addressing, in a more polite fashion, the person who had spoken to him; but she had not given her name.
No matter.
He was committed, now. He felt relief.
He had called for a hired shuttle to pick him up from Favored of God, on a kind of whim, and he had been wondering whether he was making a silly mistake.
It's never a mistake to scout out your opponent, he reminded himself. It's been well over a year since we met in that prison cell, and I need every chance I can get to learn what might be going on in that boy's head.
After all, he was nearby anyway.
As Bleys stepped out of the shuttle's lock, the bay was quieter than he had expected. He looked around, wondering what it would take to get a complete tour of this huge technological wonder—and quashed the notion, irritated at himself for being weak enough to be taken by the same fascination with toys that had led the race too quickly into space. It might be better to simply destroy this place, rather than try to control it; it was too tempting.
The lights high up in the walls were bright and harsh to his eyes, glaring at him as he began to walk down the ramp. Against the glare he could make out a figure apparently waiting for him on the bay floor. Other figures were moving about, but none seemed to be paying him any attention.
The person waiting for him, he found, was a woman, small, and probably in her thirties, with black hair framing a faintly oriental face. She wore clean-looking lime green work coveralls that fit as if tailored, and black, slipperlike ankle boots.
"Bleys Ahrens?" she asked. It was the alto voice he had spoken with from the shuttle.
"Yes," he said, nodding politely.
"My name is Chuni Maslow," she said. "Hal Mayne asked me to take you to him. Would you follow me, please?"
She turned and led the way to a hatch, which opened itself at her touch on its controls. Stepping through behind her, Bleys found himself in a corridor much like those in good hotels on Old Earth. It seemed to be wallpapered in a motif of white flowers—not roses, he thought, but something showier, elongated—on pale yellow. It lightened the effect of the royal blue carpeting.
He knew, from his reading, that this corridor was a unit, a movable piece that could be maneuvered about within the vast interior of the satellite. It had probably been set in motion as soon as the door closed behind them, and by the time they walked to the other doorway, the corridor itself would have reached their destination and attached itself there. But he felt no movement.
At the second doorway, Chuni operated the control pad, and the door opened.
"Hal Mayne asks that you wait here in comfort," she said. "He won't be long."
"Certainly," Bleys said, nodding.
Out of habit, he ducked his head in the doorway, but he did not need to do so.
The room appeared to be a simple, comfortably furnished, lounge. He explored it briefly, as any innocent visitor would, and found that both food and drink were available from mechanisms in the walls. A video screen provided entertainment and news channels, and he could see control pads that indicated the availability of communications.
He did not try any of the controls, settling for a glass of fruit juice. He chose the sofa as a seat, since it was larger than any of the chairs.
As he sat, he examined his interior state, and found that he was a little on edge. He began to practice some of his silent breath-control exercises.
In just over ten minutes the door opened, and Chuni Maslow appeared, framed by the portal but not coming in.
"If you'll follow me," she said, "I'll take you to Hal Mayne."
Bleys rose and stepped back through the doorway, this time stopping himself from ducking his head.
He found himself in a different corridor, this one paneled in dark red wood above a pale yellow carpet that showed no sign of soil.
I wonder if those fools who used to run Newton ever came here? They wanted so much to impress people with how advanced they were.
Even as he had that thought, they had reached the next doorway, and Chuni was operating its control pad.
"Here you are, Bleys Ahrens ...," she said, as the door opened. At her gesture he stepped into the room ahead of her; and, seeing Hal Mayne, he lost track of the woman until the door had closed behind him.
The figure before him was undeniably Hal Mayne, but it was not the young man he had seen, sick and exhausted, on the too-small bed in that prison cell. At that meeting, Bleys had been surprised to see that Hal Mayne, the boy he had never met, had grown into a man; now he had the feeling he was meeting with a completely different person.
Although tall, the person in that cell had been still a boy. But all of Bleys' instincts told him the figure before him now was that of a full-grown adult male—full-grown in every way.
He stood as tall as Bleys, but with massive shoulders and chest that made Bleys feel suddenly smaller; yet the difference from the boy in the cell went beyond size. This man gave an instant impression of being older than Bleys was. Bleys was disconcerted: how could that boy could have become so different in less than two years?
Bleys could not remember a time when he had not been aware that there was a part of himself, that he thought of as being in the back of his mind, that perpetually monitored his actions and his thoughts, helping him control his emotions and instincts. Now, he suddenly realized, it had shut down—vanished; at least it seemed that way, because he was suddenly being flooded by feelings of rage. He suppressed it with harsh willpower, telling himself it was simply the instinctual response usual to a large male unexpectedly confronted with a larger one.
Fear?
He was shocked as the notion came to him. Anger, like many other emotions, usually arose out of the body's fear reaction; but he had never thought that might apply to him.
Hal Mayne presented an entirely different sort of figure; but somehow, in his simple, utilitarian silver-gray coverall, that difference failed to detract from the fact that his body, his face—even his attitude—presented an icon of power and strength that must awaken a large number of instinctive responses in those who saw him.
People will listen to him, too.
As Hal took a step forward, Bleys found his voice. "Well," he said, "you've grown up."
"It happens," said Hal. His voice, too, was more mature, deeper and controlled. But it was distant. There was a strange moment of silence as they stood facing each other. Bleys was acutely aware of the ceiling over both their heads; he'd been used to being closer to ceilings than other people, but now, with Hal's own height so near, that sense of closeness became uncomfortable.
Hal's face showed no emotion at all. That, too, was an indicator of how the boy had changed. Bleys had, he knew now, been expecting to meet that same youngster, and to find him still prey to the emotional volatility of young men; but he had been badly wrong.
Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 Page 35