Gina walked over to the chef and picked up her own drink, which was still standing untouched on the dispenser tray. She took a sip and stood with her back to the room, staring at the cover panels of the units as if hoping they would open up and swallow her. “I feel dumb, stupid, and when you boil it all down, not an especially nice person to know,” she said without moving her head. “I’m not used to feeling that way. I never thought I’d have reason to. I don’t like it.”
“That happens to everyone at some time or other,” Hunt said. He sat forward and topped up his glass. His voice was easygoing and natural, not lecturing. “I remember once when I was a kid in London, a friend of mine lent me his new bike. I crashed it and bent it up, and then just left it outside his house and walked away. Didn’t have the nerve to tell him, let alone think about how to put it right. It bothered me for years afterwards, that did. Sometimes it still does.”
“We’re talking about something a bit more serious than kids’ bikes,” Gina said, and instantly wished she hadn’t; it sounded as if she were fishing for sympathy.
Hunt’s voice took on an edge of impatience. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Come down and join the real, pretty-shitty world. Sometimes you look back at something and you find you don’t like what you did.” He paused in the middle of taking a swig and looked at her over his glass pointedly. “And sometimes, if the truth were known, you’re kicking yourself over nothing because things didn’t seem the way you see them later. You find out new things, and it clouds your recollection of how much you didn’t know before.”
“Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt, but I don’t need charity.”
“Maybe it’s not charity. Maybe we know something that you don’t.” Although she still had her back turned, Hunt could sense her wrestling with her conscience. She really had no corner to run to. It was only a matter of not being seen to cave in too easily. He gave her a few seconds.
“So… how far back were you recruited, and who was behind it?” he asked again.
Gina sighed, took a hurried gulp, and turned to stand facing him across the room. “This isn’t easy,” she said.
“No one’s expecting it to be.”
She came over to the lounge area and perched herself on the edge of one of the chairs. “From the beginning-back on Earth. It was your boss, Caldwell, and some branch of-oh, I don’t know, some kind of security agency somewhere. They think there’s a Jevlenese operation that has an informer in PAC somewhere.”
Hunt shook his head without a moment’s hesitation. “Not Gregg. He doesn’t work that way. Try another one.”
“I’m telling you, that’s what happened.”
“Baloney.”
“Okay, okay.” Gina held up a hand. “Not Caldwell exactly. There was another guy with him, from the military. His name was General Shaw-I don’t know which department or whatever. But Caldwell introduced him, and he was there the whole time that Shaw was talking…” Gina shook her head and raised the fingers of her free hand defensively. “He made it sound crucially important. I didn’t know you guys then. To tell you the truth it’s been bothering the hell out of me inside for days now. But I’d agreed to do it. It was classified, and I couldn’t talk to anyone here. What else could I do but go with it?”
Hunt looked at her without any change of expression. He didn’t believe that version any more than the previous one, but this track had the promise of being fruitful. “You met this general before we left Earth, with Gregg?” he repeated.
“Yes. At Goddard. In Caldwell’s office.”
“Before you came out to my place?”
“Yes… maybe not.” Gina massaged her brow. “I’m not sure.”
“Describe him.”
“Oh… biggish kind of guy, pink face, blue eyes, ginger mustache-typical clipped military style. He wore a grayish uniform, maybe light blue, with a lot of ribbons and braid.”
“And he told you there was an informer here?”
Gina looked up curiously. “What is all this? Wasn’t he on the level?”
“Don’t worry about that for now.”
“He said there was reason to suspect one,” Gina went on. “They didn’t trust the official channel through Cullen, so the idea was to put in an independent observer that nobody knew about. You weren’t to know about it, not Cullen-not even Garuth.” Gina shrugged. “I guess that having me show up, who nobody could connect to any organization, seemed like a perfect opportunity.”
Hunt took a cigarette pack from his pocket, selected one, and looked up before putting it to his mouth. “And was that when he gave you the contact procedure that Marion Fayne used?”
Gina sighed again, in a what-the-hell kind of way. “No, later, after we arrived. He’s here in Shiban. I met him a couple of days ago.”
The look on Hunt’s face sharpened. “When?”
“The day Baumer showed me the town.” She paused. “I’ve got a feeling he might have been working for Shaw, too, somehow.”
“I guess we’ll never know now, will we? What happened?”
“I think a lot of this about Baumer being a head junkie might have been an act for cover. We did go to the club, but just so that I’d be able to tell it believably, and for it to be okay if anybody checked. But I didn’t stay as long as I said. Another guy collected me and took me to some place-a room in an apartment block that could have been anywhere-and I gave Shaw a rundown on what’s been happening since D.C. That was when he updated me on what he wanted and gave a new code that contacts would use.”
“I see.” Hunt lit his cigarette at last, then got up and paced across the room, thinking to himself and smoking several draws.
Gina settled further back into her chair. “What would you have done?” she asked him after the silence had dragged into more than a minute.
“What?” Hunt seemed to return abruptly from somewhere miles away. “Oh, much the same, I think. As you say, you didn’t know us at the time.”
“That’s nice to hear, anyway.”
Hunt picked up her briefcase, which she had put down on the chair by the working area on one side of the lounge, moved it to the desktop, then sat down in the chair and swiveled it to face back at her. “Do you remember that conversation we had in my place at Redfern Canyons the day you drove out there? You asked me what reality out there was, and I said it was all photons. Everything else you think you see, you make inside your head.”
“Neural constructs. Yes, I remember.”
“Funny things, heads. I knew a chap at Cambridge once, years ago now, who wanted to be a great scientist. He bought this big house with lots of quiet and seclusion, and filled it with all the things that were going to make it happen. Paneled study with a fireplace; the best computer, with access numbers into everywhere; huge library, and a lab set up with everything. He even had a chalkboard and plenty of pads ready to capture the inspiration when it came… The only trouble was, nothing ever did. He surrounded himself with all the paraphernalia and then sat back waiting for it to do something for him. A lot of people try and live their lives the same way. But things don’t work like that, of course. It has to come from inside… Rather like what you said about J.H.C.: His message was that everyone has to find their own way of figuring out who they are. Relying on the world outside to do it for you doesn’t work.”
“Why are you bringing this up now?”
Hunt shrugged nonchalantly. “Just talking about the funny things that go on inside and outside people’s heads. Sandy was telling me a little bit about your experiments with VISAR on the Vishnu. I hadn’t realized you’d gone that far into it-in fact, I hadn’t realized that you could go that far into it. Amazing, isn’t it? Me, the ever-curious scientist. It comes as a bit of a shock to find out you’re not quite what you thought, doesn’t it?”
Gina twitched uncomfortably and gulped at her drink, spilling a drop on her slacks. She drew a tissue from a pack on a side table and dabbed it dry.
“What was it that bothered you so much
when you got into VISAR?” Hunt asked.
“Does this really have anything to do with what we’re talking about?” Gina objected.
“Yes, I think it does.” The sudden crispness in Hunt’s voice made her eyebrows lift in surprise. He waited for a moment. “Sandy said that it doesn’t just create fantasy realities. It can mold them to reflect things about yourself that you mightn’t like-things you didn’t even know existed. And that’s important to you. You said as much a few minutes ago, when you thought you’d been betraying your friends. What other things did VISAR let out of the box that you’d rather it had left there?”
“What the hell does this have to do with anything?” Gina demanded, her voice rising.
“What’s the matter, can’t you handle it?” Hunt leered tauntingly. “We’ve all got something. Power trips, like Baumer. Sandy found that she gets a kick out of seeing blood, and people screaming. What about you?”
“Vic, stop it! I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Do you like older men because a favorite uncle felt up your knickers when you were a little girl? Was it something like that?”
“Mind your own fucking, goddamn business!”
“Ahah, something like that, then, was it? You said on the Vishnu that you might tell me your fantasies one day. Do you remember?”
Gina slammed the glass down on the side table, breaking the stem. She glowered across at Hunt and thrust out her chin defiantly. “All right! I used to be married to this guy who was into the swinging scene, okay. You know the kind of thing? He had other friends too, and liked threesome things and lots-of-people things. He was always trying to get me into it, too, but it never happened. Okay? Got your thrill for today? I’ve heard lots of weird things about you English guys.”
“And what? Did it bother you that you hadn’t figured him before?” Hunt had dropped the sarcasm suddenly, but just at that moment Gina wasn’t registering.
“No, Doctor, it didn’t!” she shouted. “Deep down I was pissed because I’d been chicken. VISAR would have delivered, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that. In fact I was terrified. Okay? Satisfied?” Her voice fell. “Now get out of my room.”
But Hunt was staring at her intently, his face serious, as if inviting her to think about what she had just said. She realized then that he had been shamming, and for a reason. Her expression changed to puzzlement.
“And you went back to it, here in Shiban, with Baumer?” He gave her a moment to reflect, then shook his head. “No way. Oh, I’ve heard all your reasons, and I don’t buy them. Neither do you.”
Gina looked back at him, totally confused. Her belligerence evaporated. “I know… It’s made me wonder, too. I don’t know why I did it… I guess, maybe, I couldn’t see any way to refuse.”
Hunt shrugged. “It’s easy. You tell him it’s not your thing. Let’s go and have a drink.”
Gina leaned back wearily and ran a hand through her hair. “Is it really that important?”
“Yes, very. Because I don’t think it happened. I don’t think you went there at all.”
“Now you’re being stupid.”
“We’ve just agreed that you wouldn’t have gone near the place. Sandy says the same thing. It was she who convinced me.”
Gina stared at him and shook her head as if wondering if she were dreaming. “Look, what’s the point of talking like this? Why keep saying I couldn’t have gone there when I did?”
“How do you know you did?”
“Well… What the hell kind of question is that to ask? How do you know you went to the bathroom this morning? I remember it, that’s why.”
Hunt sat back, still regarding her steadily, and gave a satisfied nod. “Funny things, heads,” he said again. “Aren’t they?”
He waited. Gina stared down at the floor. A trickle of drink from her upset glass had run down a leg of the side table and was spreading into the carpet. She leaned forward to mop it with a tissue. And then she froze, suddenly, and looked up, the first glimmer of comprehension illuminating her eyes. “What are you getting at?” she whispered.
“I could call Gregg Caldwell through VISAR to check,” Hunt said. “In fact, we will. But I’ll lay you a thousand bucks to a penny right now that General Shaw doesn’t exist either.” The look of horror on her face told him that he was getting through. He drew a long breath, then went on. “They’re fake memories that were written into your head at another JEVEX outlet somewhere. We’re pretty certain that somebody got to you somewhere after you and Baumer left PAC. So we have to assume that they know everything you did up to that point. Then they overwrote what happened with the fabricated sequence that you remember, and just for good measure added in the business about Shaw to get you working for them. Fayne was their first try to collect-at least, I hope it was the first?” Gina nodded. Hunt sighed. “It was neat. If you and Sandy hadn’t gone tripping on the Vishnu, we might never have cottoned onto it.”
Gina went through some of the pictures in her mind, searching for possible flaws or inaccuracies. There were none. She shivered, drawing her sweater tighter around her. “I can’t tell. I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t about what I remember.” A fearful look came over her suddenly. “This couldn’t be anything like what happened to Baumer, is it?”
Hunt shook his head firmly. “Don’t worry about that. You’ve just lost a few memories, that’s all. A good binge could have done the same thing. You’re still very much you.”
“I’m not sure I feel it. When you know there’s part of your mind that doesn’t belong there… It’s not exactly comforting.”
“People probably used to think the same about cardiac valves and synthetic kidneys.” His manner was sympathetic and reassuring now. She had accepted it and would cooperate once she’d had a chance to get used to it. That was the main thing.
There was a long silence while Gina thought it through. Hunt mopped up the spilled drink for her while he waited. “Is there anything we can do to unscramble it?” she asked finally.
“I don’t know. We’d like you to let VISAR analyze those patterns anyway, to see if there’s any way of recovering what was overwritten. Would you mind?”
Gina shook her head. “I’m kind of curious, too. That’s me, remember?”
“Terrific. You’ll survive. I’ll be getting along for now. I’ve got a few things to do.”
“Oh… Vic,” Gina said as he moved toward the door.
He stopped and looked back. “What?”
“Thanks.”
He grinned. “Glad you can see it that way. I’m sorry I had to get personal.”
“That’s okay.” Gina managed to muster a smile back. “Did Sandy tell you that she thought I was pretty dumb, too?”
“No. Why?”
“For chickening out of VISAR’s porno trip. She says if it was her she’d have gone for it.”
Hunt laughed and began moving to the door again. “You see?” he said. “Scientists are more curious.”
“There was something else, too.”
“What now?”
Gina’s smile widened and became impish. “The fantasy that VISAR put together out of my head.”
“What about it?”
“You were in it, too.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The Ganymeans were dubious that anything could be done to reconstruct the memories of Gina’s that had been overwritten. Nevertheless, she allowed VISAR to go over the recollections that now existed in her mind to see if it could find any seams. It processed, correlated, reinterpolated, and analyzed the data in every way that offered a shred of hope that some vestige of what she had actually experienced during the missing hours might be extracted, but the results were uniformly negative. Essentially, the elements of a pattern had been rearranged. The information carried in the previous arrangement was gone, and no amount of juggling could re-create it. As Hunt observed, it was like asking a position in a chess game to say something about the previous game played by the pieces.
All that could be said for sure was that from some time after leaving PAC with Baumer-which couldn’t be pinpointed since it was no longer possible to compare Gina’s story with his to establish where they diverged-to some time before she walked back into PAC, something had happened that was different from what she remembered. And that was probably all that would ever be known. But if a conclusive pointer existed anywhere to the organization that Cullen was looking for, that was where it lay concealed.
Then Calazar, on behalf of the Thurien-Terran Joint Policy Council for Jevlen, formally notified Garuth that a move to terminate the Ganymean custodianship of Jevlen was being actively considered. Nobody was blaming Garuth or his colleagues from the Shapieron, who, Calazar readily acknowledged, had made a magnificent attempt, under impossible circumstances, at a task whose problems had been greatly underestimated.
“We have to accept that our very different origins and the temperament that they confer do not equip us to comprehend this race, let alone direct its affairs,” Calazar said. “The entire history of our own dealings with the Jevlenese was insufficient to teach us what should have been obvious. Therefore we shall accept the counsel of those whose perception has been shaped by a better guide.”
Which was as direct an admission as could be asked for that henceforth the policies of JPC would be determined by humans, with the Thuriens effectively endorsing whatever they decided. Putting in a Terran occupation force would only be a matter of time after that.
An hour or so after Garuth announced the news, Hunt, Cullen, Danchekker, a dejected Garuth, and Shilohin assembled in Garuth’s office. Caldwell, who had confirmed to nobody’s surprise that General Shaw was a fiction, joined in from Goddard, appearing on a screen via a link through VISAR and ZORAC.
There was one last angle that Hunt could think of to try and stall things. “What are the chances, Gregg,” he asked, “of you getting back to JPC through UNSA somehow and seeing if we can get them to put a hold on it? I mean, you can see the kind of outfit we’re up against here: riots in the streets, assassinations, kidnapping and mind-editing, lethal chips in people’s heads. And Dell’s convinced he’s getting really close. It just needs another break. If this team is pulled out now, we’ll lose the lot.”
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