Strings

by Dave Duncan

  “Hastings was not part of it?” Alya asked.

  “No, no! He blanched when she sprang the trap. White-eyes’ faces are very revealing. You saw—he was a broken man. He could not have known what she was planning. She duped him more than anyone. He must have expected something else, probably something that would help him out of his own troubles. Instead she will drag him down with her.” Jathro shook his head sadly; but he had enjoyed his own lecture.

  Alya beamed up at him in reward. “How do you know all this?”

  “I watch the news as you do,” he said sourly.

  “Newscasters don’t report this sort of thing!”

  “Listen to what they don’t say and watch what they don’t show.”

  “Great! I’ll remember. And our business?”

  “I would guess that we have about a week. I give her that long, but very little more. Grundy will be starting his moves already.”

  “Grundy is BEST?” Cedric was struggling to follow it all. The information was interesting, but not immediately helpful.

  Jathro nodded. “Grundy Julian Wagner. He and your grandmother have been deadly enemies for years. She will not allow a member of BEST into Cainsville.”

  “BEST’s only a union,” Cedric said, crunching celery. There was nothing else left on the tray. “How can a union—”

  “Grundy can. Five years ago he withdrew all technical expertise from Italy. He threw the whole country back to the Middle Ages inside a week. People were dying in the streets.”

  “I didn’t know that!”

  “It wasn’t reported—the media need engineers and technicians, also. Since then, though, no government has argued with Grundy. Nobody can.”

  “And now he’s going to make them vote against Gran, and the media will help?”

  Jathro barely nodded at that repetition of the obvious.

  “Maybe she has gone crazy,” Cedric said glumly. “Seventy-five?” That seemed an incredible age.

  “Trust her!” Alya said firmly. “We’ll all have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

  Cedric was not sure he could do that—not after what had just been done to him.

  “Then let us go and see what she wants with us!” Jathro said urgently.

  Alya rose and lifted the empty tray from Cedric’s knees. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  Muttering thanks, he clambered to his feet. She was not as tall as he had hoped—but not small! And still delicious. He ought to be feeling nervous around a princess, but he could not help wondering if that smile meant that she liked him, too. Dreamer! “I don’t know. Try to do the job she gave me, and see if she was serious.”

  Jathro began to walk, but Alya did not, so he stopped.

  “Where are you going to begin?” she asked Cedric.

  “With System, I suppose.”

  Then they all moved, Bagshaw and the other guard, also. Cedric was trying to plan what he must do in the absurd job he had been given, but it was not very easy to concentrate on that with a scrumptious princess walking at his side. They could have held hands—her elbow was very close to his wrist. Then they reached a comset on the wall. The Jathro man had arrived at the door. Finding himself alone, he growled and strode over to join them. “Highness! Director Hubbard—”

  “Oh, plug up!” Alya said absently. “You go talk to her.”

  Jathro took a very deep breath, as though dealing with a wayward child. “She has eight candidates for you to choose from.”

  “So? I already know that. I know which one I’ll choose.”

  “You do? That list? You said—”

  “I lied.” Alya was keeping her eyes on Cedric—which was flattering, but too distracting to be much help.

  He chewed a knuckle, wondering where to start. He would have to have something ready for ten o’clock the next morning, even if it was only a suicide note.

  And Eccles Pandora had hinted at some extra treat up her sleeve. He must not forget that nasty threat.

  “Even so,” Jathro said. “Common courtesy—”

  Cedric looked to Bagshaw. “How do I go up to my work grade?”

  Most of the bull’s face was hidden by his helmet, and the rest of it was just shiny plastic, too. “First time it balks you say, ‘Override.’ But anything you do after that may get tattled to your granny.”

  “How do I turn it off again?”

  “Say ‘normal grading’—or wait five minutes. It downgrades automatically.”

  Cedric nodded. Then his eyes went back to Alya. “Oh—sir?” Her dimples did lovely things when she smiled. “I’m supposed to play host for you, Alya. I’m not doing a very good job, am I?”

  She smiled. “How long have you been here?”

  Again Cedric looked to Bagshaw, who said, “About three hours.”

  “Then we arrived at about the same time. You can’t know this place any better than I do.”

  “True. But—”

  “Your Highness…” Jathro said.

  Alya nodded. “I must go.”

  She took Cedric’s hand and squeezed it. “See this?” She pointed to a brooch on her left breast. It showed a double helix, outlined in gems. She clung to his hand still.

  “Pretty,” Cedric said doubtfully. “Looks like DNA.”

  “It’s the—” Alya gave him a puzzled look. “For someone who claims he doesn’t have grade school, you know some odd things.”

  “I watch a lot of holo. There’s educational stuff there, if you hunt for it.” He felt his face go pink again, because that sounded as though he were trying to sound smart. He knew he was not smart.

  “Mmm. Well, this is the national symbol of Banzarak, a cobra and a silken rope.”

  He stooped to peer at it, less conscious of what it looked like than of where it was. The snake was done in emeralds, and the rope in diamonds.

  “It’s a very old symbol,” Alya said. “It—”

  “Highness!” Jathro growled a warning.

  Alya hesitated.

  “That is not your secret to reveal!” the bearded man said sharply.

  Her chin came up and she met his eye, but she seemed less certain that she had been before. “I think it’s important!” She turned to Cedric again. “For hundreds of years there was a tradition in my family. When a prince or princess came of age, and again whenever the throne came vacant, then he or she—”

  “Highness, please!” Jathro stepped close, openly threatening. “There are others present.”

  Alya ignored him, fixing Cedric with her cryptic dark eyes and speaking rapidly. “He was presented before the people—or she was, originally. After Islam came, it was only the men.”

  “Islam?”

  “In 1413. Never mind that. There were two clay pots—”

  Ping! A holo of Hubbard Agnes glared out from within the comset. “That will do, Princess.”

  She had changed from her blue suit to a looser one in gray. She sat in a swivel chair with her back to the big pentagonal table that Cedric had seen earlier. Her expression was frosty, to say the least.

  Alya flinched and then raised her hands to her face and bowed. “God be with you, Director.”

  “And with you, Your Highness. You were about to be indiscreet.”

  Cedric had thought that eavesdropping was not good manners. Apparently grandmothers had other rules.

  Alya hung her head, avoiding the older woman’s cold gaze. “It seemed important to me.”

  Then it was Cedric’s turn to endure the freezing inspection.

  “Indeed? That is a complication I had not anticipated. You must not let recreation interfere with business. Moreover, there are others present. I have utmost confidence in the discretion of both Dr. North and Dr. Bagshaw, and I admit that Cedric’s brief career seems impressive so far. But there are some secrets that it is dangerous to know, Your Highness.”

  “Yes, Director.”

  “You will do nobody a favor by sharing that one.”

  “I am sorry. I will b
e more cautious in future.”

  “Very well.” Hubbard Agnes seemed pleased. The tip of her tongue moistened her pale, dry lips. “Cedric, you handled those nerds much better than I expected.”

  “You hoped they would eat me alive?”

  The cold blue eyes snapped him a look that felt like a slap in the face. “If you don’t want to paddle, you can always swim.”

  “I’m sorry, Grandmother.”

  “Very well. What are you planning?”

  “They want access to System.”

  His grandmother winced as though in pain. “Talk to Lyle.”

  “Lyle?”

  “Dr. Fish. The one you tried to shake hands with when he wasn’t here, remember? If I allow those busybodies into System, then they’ll flood us with computer viruses. But if Lyle says he can do it safely, then go ahead.”

  Cedric’s heart jumped. That felt very good indeed. “And I need advice! Aren’t there consultants—”

  “Talk to Personnel.”

  That was the lecherous bouncy black woman, Cedric remembered—Dr. Wheatland. Just thinking of her was enough to make him squirm. But Gran had not thumped him down yet; he began to feel hopeful. “Money? How much can I—”

  “Spend whatever you can justify. You have credit now—for God’s sake get some decent clothes.”

  That was deliberate unfairness. “And get my hair cut?”

  “If you hurry, you can do both before the four o’clock lev.”

  “The lev?”

  Obviously he was being stupid. She was not giving him time to think straight.

  “You have taken on a commitment for ten o’clock tomorrow, so you had better go on up to Cainsville tonight. Princess Alya—we expect a window to Rhine at about two hundred hours. I want you to inspect it.”

  Alya flinched and glanced at Jathro, who said nothing.

  “I do not think Rhine is important, Dr. Hubbard.”

  Hubbard Agnes rose from her chair. She was taller than Alya. “Are you quite certain? It is a very promising candidate.”

  Alya hesitated.

  “You know the stakes, child.”

  Alya nodded unhappily. “I had best be certain.” She glanced at Cedric, but was given no chance to speak.

  “Come to my office and we shall discuss the next few days’ program. Cedric—do whatever you feel is right. If you make a mistake I will throw you away like a gum wrapper.”

  Cedric boiled over. “Toss me out a seventeenth-story window?”

  “That might be a kindness,” his grandmother said calmly. “If you lose this job, you can anticipate a career in organ donation.”

  “Grandfather—”

  “He is a rusted bucket. Your High—”

  Cedric raised his voice over hers. “But is he my grandfather? How come I was born five years after my parents died?”

  She looked at him as though he had just puked all over himself. “Your father’s estate came to me. It consisted of six dirty shirts and a frozen embryo. I had that thawed out and put in a utervat to see what it might grow into. That was twenty years ago, and I am still waiting for the answer.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is that all?”

  “All?”

  “I just thought,” his grandmother said, “that you might want to thank me.”

  “Thanks for everything.”

  His sarcasm was ignored. She smiled in mirthless satisfaction, and her eyes went back to Alya. “Come to my office now, Your Highness. We have much to discuss.”

  Alya reached out and squeezed Cedric’s arm and walked away without looking at him. Jathro and the female guard followed.

  Just in time, Cedric remembered another problem. “Gran, Eccles Pandora hinted that she has something special planned for tonight. It sounded like more than just your press conference.”

  Agnes sniffed. “Indeed? Well, I don’t think we need worry about it yet. WSHB management will certainly run it through their System. The strategy routines will recommend waiting until tomorrow, or later. Two bombshells in one day would be a waste.”

  “You know what it is?”

  “I can guess. I knew a coin has been stolen. I wasn’t certain who had bought it. Again, talk to Fish.”

  The door had closed. Only Cedric and Bagshaw remained in the big room.

  “Gran?”

  She sighed a what now sigh. “Yes?”

  “Why did you do that to me? Why make a fool of me like that, and of all those important people, too?”

  For a moment he thought she was not going to answer at all. Then she said, “I can’t explain. If it makes you feel any better, you almost ruined everything.”

  “What? How?”

  She replied with grim amusement. “By being a lot more of a man than I expected. I was really hoping that you’d start weeping. Try to do better in future.”

  “You wanted me to fail?”

  She shrugged and vanished. The comset was a gray blank.

  “Bitch!” Cedric said.

  “You just worked that out?” Bagshaw said.

  “Yes.” Cedric sighed. He had a lev to catch; no time to rest or relax. “I need clothes.”

  The bull nodded impassively. “Nobody carries your size, half-pint, but you can choose style and fabric here, and they’ll be made and waiting for you in Cainsville.” Yet he did not move. He was waiting for Cedric to do or say something more.

  Of course.

  Cedric switched to command tone. “System. Is my DNA on file?”

  “Nuclear DNA and mitochondrial DNA both,” the twangy Eastern voice said.

  “Do you have DNA for Hastings Willoughby on file?”

  “I have three persons by that name on record.” There was a hint of smug satisfaction in the tone. This System had traces of personality; it made Meadowdale’s seem very primitive.

  “The Secretary General.”

  This time the answer came in a hollow echo through Cedric’s ear patch. “Information confidential to Grade Two.”

  Cedric was graded to One. “Override.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Analyze his chromosomal DNA and mine. Report how similar they are.”

  “Stand by.” He heard quiet resignation—much work to do.

  Cedric waited, his heart thumping. If his grandmother had lied to him, and if his use of override was reported already, she would surely intervene. He twitched impatiently. Why so long?

  “DNA’s pretty complex stuff,” Bagshaw remarked. “It’ll take a while.”

  “Comparison complete,” the ghostly voice in Cedric’s ear said. “Analyses are identical to three decimal places.”

  Clone! He was Hastings Willoughby’s clone.

  Bagshaw could not have heard, but he apparently saw Cedric’s face change, for he turned away toward the door so quickly that he might have been hiding a smile.

  11

  Nauc/Cainsville, April 7

  FOR SOME TIME Alya had been walking alongside Jathro, following the solid bulk of North Brenda, but she had been lost in thought, unaware of her surroundings. An escalator broke the steady pace and also broke her reverie, and it was then that she noticed the expression on Jathro’s face.

  “It was not sex!” she snapped in sudden fury.

  His moustache writhed in a sneer. “Oh—forgive me!”

  Damnable male pig! He looked so smug, so sure of his erroneous presumption, so unbearably superior—and then her anger turned and slashed back at herself. Why should she care what that grubby hack was thinking? Let him wallow in his prejudices! Let him assume that every woman was a natural wanton, and that this one was planning to jump into Hubbard Cedric’s bed at the first chance she got. Why should she care?

  Of course, she had chummied up very close to the boy—but never mind! Jathro repelled would be one less worry. It would take him off her hands—and vice versa.

  Normally she would not have given a second thought, or even a first thought, to what might be churning inside Jathro’s narrow little mind. Today
she was just edgy because she was jet-lagged, and because she was tired, and because—because the pain was coming back. The buddhi had its claws in her again. Every step away from Hubbard Cedric was making it worse.

  She felt a need…

  It was not sex! He was an ungroomed, overgrown wisp, ungainly and immature. Alya had enjoyed men in the past and hoped to try out two or three more before she made a final selection, but she could guess how that young giant would approach lovemaking. Mud wrestling would hold more appeal.

  It was certainly not a desire for friendship. They had nothing in common. She could converse on almost any subject on Earth, and Cedric would be ignorant in all of them. Not his fault, of course, that he had been reared inside a crate. But not hers, either. Buddies they could never be.

  It was not some perverted mother instinct, either. He radiated loneliness and rejection. He needed somebody to comb his hair and pat him on the back when he tried hard, and steer him toward civilization. But not Alya! Motherhood and its troubles could wait.

  It was not even admiration, although he had displayed an astonishing courage before an angry mob. Despite his youth, his ludicrous costume, and his jungle hairstyle, that boy had been more impressive than his grandfather, Hastings Willoughby, the celebrated political wizard. Boys did not do what he had done…but admiration would not explain her strange longing.

  No, it had to be the buddhi. Close to Cedric it let her breathe again. Away from him, it tormented her. Somehow he was important.

  She could not help that.

  And then Cedric was driven from her mind as she found herself being ushered into the spine-chilling presence of Hubbard Agnes.

  The office was large and five-sided, containing only the wide pentagonal table and some chairs. Two of the walls were comsets, the biggest Alya had ever seen. They displayed a breathtaking seashore—majestic high waves breaking and hurling spray, rolling up on a glistening beach that curved away into far distance. She could hear a very faint soundtrack, as though muffled through thick glass, and the effect was so realistic that she could almost smell the salty tang. A backdrop of high frondy trees looked like palms tossing in the wind, but the sky behind them had an uncanny purple tinge.