The Octagonal Raven

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Anything will be fine.” I eased into the same chair where she had fed me breakfast — I hadn’t eaten since then, and it felt far longer than ten hours.

  Before I knew it, she was easing a mug of Grey tea and a plate in front of me — a moderate omelet with cheese and the hint of chives and mushrooms of a type I didn’t recognize. She had the same thing, except for a tall crystal glass of water.

  “Just eat,” she suggested.

  I did, and I was mostly through the omelet, which tasted as good as it smelled, before I spoke. “Thank you. This is good. It must be something you scanned into the replicator.”

  “It is. Whenever I finish something good, I scan it. Some don’t scan, and I just erase them, but after a while you do build up a personalized bank of things.” She took a long drink of water. “I’ve seen more of you today than in the last three years.”

  I was glad the lights were dim, because I could feel the embarrassment. Finally, I just offered a helpless shrug. “What can I say? I need help.”

  She laughed, gently.

  “First, I need you to make a call to an old friend with your codes. Elora left a request for me to do so. My codes are blocked.”

  “Blocked?”

  “All I get is a phony sim. If I were a net engineer, I could engineer another set of codes to get through. I’m not, but it means that someone doesn’t want me to reach him.”

  “At least this old friend is a man.” Majora’s tone was warmly humorous.

  “We went to Blue Oak Academy together. It’s Eldyn Nyhal.”

  “The scientist? The one whose wife died under mysterious circumstances? Maybe he doesn’t want any calls.”

  “He was more than a little strange then, but … well … if he doesn’t take your calls in the same way he doesn’t take mine …” I let the words drop away.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Just ask him to give you a call. Say you’re calling on behalf of an old friend of his from Blue Oak Academy, and that the friend would have called, but that circumstances surrounding his sister’s death apparently make it impossible. Don’t give my name.”

  She raised her thick eyebrows. “Rather mysterious, aren’t you?”

  “No. If his system is altered the way I think it is, any reference to my name will block the message or shunt it somewhere. There’s no one else who meets that description but me; it won’t be mysterious to him.”

  Nodding, Majora keyed in the codes, and I stepped back so that I wouldn’t fall into the scanning focus.

  A sim appeared immediately on the holo screen before us, that of a stocky man, the thinning but wavy light brown hair just one sign of a norm. The sim wore a green singlesuit, and a dark gray vest trimmed in black, and it wasn’t either of the same sim images I’d seen before, not exactly. “As you can see, I’m not available. If you would leave a message, I would appreciate it.”

  “This is Majora Hyriss. I’m calling on behalf of an old friend” When she was done, she waited until the connection was broken before she turned to me. “Was that what you wanted?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We both knew that it could be minutes or days before he returned the call.

  Finally, after a long silence, I turned to her. “You do a lot of PR work these days, don’t you? Think up publicity approaches and the like?”

  “It’s called conceptual analysis.” She smiled. “And it doesn’t pay nearly so well as methodizing or high-royalty edartistry, but better than the gruntwork systemic analysis I used to have to rely on. I still do some of that, but as little as I can to make ends meet.”

  “I could use some conceptual analysis. My own is clearly insufficient.” I took another sip of the tea. “And there’s no telling if or when Eldyn will get back to you. I don’t think I can wait for that.”

  “I’ll need to know more than what you’ve already told me,” Majora pointed out.

  “I think I’ve told you all about the attempts on me … what else is new? One block of stock Elora controlled through a trust — the EDA Trust. That I found out from the solicitor. I got in touch with Gerrat, and he told me that the EDA Trust and something called the PST Trust had already requested a special meeting of UniComm stakeholders.”

  “But you’re the EDA Trust, now, aren’t you? Couldn’t you stop the meeting?”

  “Elora requested it, and I have to believe she had a good reason. I haven’t told anyone except you that I’m the EDA trustee. If I stop it …”

  “That exposes you.”

  I nodded. “I also did what checking I could on the PST Trust, and they seem to be wealthy individuals from a range of places.”

  “All pre-selects?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Most of the wealthiest people are. How did your brother take all this?”

  “He didn’t know who or what the trust was, and he’s worried. He asked me for my proxy, and I told him I’d be at the meeting and to tell me what he and Father wanted.”

  Majora nodded.

  “And the other key person who was killed in the induction tube accident was Elora’s boss — he’d backed her all the way, according to Gerrat. Gerrat thought they both might be targets.” I paused, holding the mug but not sipping, but inhaling, enjoying the warmth rising from the tea. “Oh … from the description of the accident, it sounds like the same method as they tried against me the last time — probably with more than one monoclone.”

  “Well …” Majora observed. “What would happen if the same people controlled all three nets? How much of the world comm systems and nets could they influence?”

  I frowned. “They’re all mass nets. Maybe fifty-five, sixty percent, but less than ten percent of the pre-selects.”

  She waited.

  “You’re suggesting some sort of coup against the Federal Union, and having the nets support it?”

  “Nothing that obvious. Say … and I have no idea what it would be … a regulation, or a change in Federal Union policy … wouldn’t it be likely to be adopted if popular and media opinion were behind it?”

  That thought sent shivers down my spine. “But there are hundreds of other nets. They’d complain and bring out all the objections.”

  “There are hundreds … but there are the big three, then the next dozen have about twenty percent of the coverage, and the next two hundred squabble over the last fifteen percent.” She rose and took my empty mug, moving back toward the antique teapot, from which she refilled the mug.

  I could see where she was headed. “The only problem we have is that we don’t know what these unknown backers want,” I pointed out.

  “I’m glad you said we.” She handed me the mug refilled with the Grey tea, steaming, then added, “Not in specifics,” she agreed, “but what about in general? Don’t you have some idea? What do you know about those involved?”

  I took a sip of the tea before answering. I let the steam wreathe my face once more for a moment. “We know they have credits, and that they don’t want to be too obvious. We also know that, for whatever reason, they feel that they want greater control of the nets and their content. They want to generate support for something, and whatever they want to generate support for is something that UniComm would be opposed to … at least it seems that way.”

  “Who would these people be? Who fits that definition?”

  “In general terms, as you pointed out, most of the wealthiest pre-selects.” I was the one to frown. “You don’t think they’re aiming at some indirect way to restructure the Union?”

  Majora shrugged, almost impishly, and, again, the gesture seemed so incongruous from a woman that tall. “You don’t watch the news that much, do you?”

  “No … except for project-related things.”

  “You should. There have been more than a few protests about the growing use of the PIAT as a screening tool.”

  “That’s a stupid issue,” I pointed out.

  “Is it? Or is it a symbolic one?” Majora studied m
e, her eyes definitely less welcoming.

  I took another sip of the Grey tea. It didn’t warm me that much. “Let’s say that’s it,” I said slowly, “that they want to move things toward more PIAT-based testing. I still can’t see why they’d target Elora, or Gerrat, and especially Father. He’s always been against governing based on popular opinion.”

  “But would he or Gerrat join a conspiracy?”

  “No. They’re far too proud, especially Father.”

  “So … none of you would be suitable, right? And you, as a group, control UniComm?”

  “It sounds silly … imagining conspiracies.…” I mused.

  “It sounds very silly,” Majora agreed. “Almost as silly as your being in the medcenter twice in five months, being attacked by a targeted laser, and by a monoclone with a filament knife and engineered to explode.”

  My lips twisted into a crooked smile. “It doesn’t sound silly that way.”

  “So you need to track down this mysterious woman — quickly — and see if she can give you any information that will offer a better idea. While you’re gone, I’ll see what I can find out in my own way — especially about the mysterious PST Trust.”

  “You don’t have to.… You’ve helped a lot already.”

  “Daryn … the last thing I want is mandatory PIAT testing. Or any group requiring it, or anything like it. Despite all the literature, it’s exactly the kind of test that’s prone to great abuse in the wrong hands. Great abuse.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t so sure about that. What I was sure about was that I didn’t want an effective monopoly of comm systems and nets in the hands of a few people. From my own edartistry, I knew where that abuse could go — I knew that all too well.

  “I can tell from your words and face that you’re worried more about the nets, but they’re both dangerous.”

  “I’m also worried about people with organizations that can plan so well and so far ahead that the CAs are useless.”

  Majora laughed. “The Federal Union operates almost entirely on consensus and cooperation. CAs are more façade than reality, in anything except tracking down spontaneous crimes of violence. Surveillance systems catch most people, and integrated bookkeeping systems catch most of the rest. If we had things like the widespread riots of the Collapse, or the anarchy of the Chaos Years, the CAs would be almost totally useless, and there aren’t enough Federal Union troops to deal with more than a handful of cities. We’re just too orderly, Daryn.”

  I had this feeling that she just might be right.

  “What else?” I wondered, trying to stifle a yawn.

  Majora yawned as well, then grinned sheepishly. “We’re … too tired … to think well” She stood.

  So did I.

  “Thank you.” I eased around the table and gave her a hug, and for the moment we were cheek to cheek. For that moment, I felt less alone.

  “You need some sleep, and so do I.” She smiled as she stepped back. “It would be much better — and safer — if you stayed here tonight. And, if your friend calls back, you’ll be here.”

  “I still need some things from home before I go on this quest.”

  “In the morning you won’t be any more of a target, and you can link with your security systems from the glider, can’t you? And you’ll be less groggy, won’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “Then that’s settled. The guest room is the first one on the left.” Her tone was quite clear.

  But … I did sleep better.

  * * *

  Chapter 41

  Fledgling: Yunvil, 445 N.E.

  * * *

  I’d finished a complete FS career, if about the shortest possible one, and was happy to have done so. For one thing, although it was totally personal, no one could ever say that I’d gotten a free ride in life because I was an Alwyn. Second, I’d done it in a field where Father’s money and prestige couldn’t help or hurt. And third, I had enough credits and income from my Federal Service that I didn’t have to bow and scrape to either Gerrat or Father.

  That said, I still had to go home … and then turn my ideas into real plans for the future — after the welcome home/retirement party my mother had insisted on throwing, and after encountering the several “appropriate” young and not-so-young women who were certain to be there.

  So I found myself in a dark green singlesuit, with a silver jacket trimmed in light green, the first time I hadn’t been in black and silver for a formal occasion in close to twenty-five years, headed down the stairs to go to a party in my honor that I wasn’t entirely certain I even wanted to attend. The heavy Mahdish carpet runner that ran over the polished hardwood floor muffled the sound of the boots I’d grown to like while in the FS and intended to keep wearing.

  The carpet didn’t muffle my steps enough, apparently, because as I passed the door to the private study, Father cleared his throat. Loudly.

  “Daryn.” He beckoned for me to enter the study. Usually, the door was closed, and that meant he’d been looking for me, but didn’t want to give the appearance of doing so.

  I stepped in.

  “You might close the door, son. We haven’t had a chance to talk.” He smiled. “Rather, I think you’ve been avoiding any serious talk.”

  With a shrug, I said, “I have been. This is the first time in my life where I’ve had a chance to think about what I’d like to do. In a realistic sense, that is.”

  “And what do you want to do? Do you know?”

  “No.” I grinned. “I promised myself that I’d take six months and travel and think before I made any serious decisions. If I decided the rest of my life on the rebound from Federal Service, I don’t think the decision would be as wise as it could be.”

  Father frowned, then fingered his chin. Finally, he nodded. “You might well be right. I can see the wisdom in that.” He straightened up in his chair, then smiled again, more genuinely. “I won’t keep you. Your mother wants you to enjoy this.” His smile turned to a grin. “She does have some plans.”

  I laughed. “I know, but those will have to wait, too.”

  “She is very patient.”

  We both laughed.

  He gestured toward the door. “Go ahead. I’ll be down in a bit.”

  “If you aren’t, Mother will send some one after you,” I suggested.

  “Probably.”

  I did manage to make it down to the main level and out to the back — and the upper veranda of the house I’d grown up in, where I looked out over the garden in the early evening, to the pool to the west, and then down the grassy swale beyond, while I waited for the innumerable guests to arrive.

  There was a hint of grapes in the fall air, mixing with the scent of the late roses, but it was still warm enough for people to circulate outside, and I’d spent enough time inside ships and stations that I didn’t care at that moment if I ever went back. I was just enjoying the light and cool breeze.

  I walked to the other side of the veranda where I found Rhedya’s brother Haywar, sitting on the bench tucked in a boxwood framed nook, the one where I’d first kissed Ertis. He was wearing a long face.

  “You look less than scintillating.”

  His response was almost a glare.

  “Sorry … I didn’t mean to intrude.” I stepped back.

  “It’s not I suppose you hadn’t heard. Frydrik didn’t do well on his PIAT.” Haywar stood slowly, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes going over my shoulder toward the veranda, as if to ensure our conversation would be private. Not that it would be, since Father had a complete net through the grounds.

  I frowned. “But …”

  “We had the best possible pre-select from Denyse and me.” He shrugged. “Even today, the process isn’t foolproof. Nature still has her say.”

  “Is it —” I began.

  “Not even close. We’ve worried for the past few years. He seemed … well … less perceptive than Alyssa … but boys … sometimes they’re later in developing.”


  “How is Denyse taking it?”

  “If we didn’t have Alyssa, she’d terminate the contract, I think. She puts on a good front, but I can tell she thinks it’s my fault.”

  I wasn’t about to touch that. “Frydrik always seemed bright enough.…”

  “Intellectual brilliance, and perceptual ability aren’t the same.” Haywar offered a crooked smile. “Nor stability.”

  “So … what will you do?”

  “Send him to one of the good engineering universities, and hope he doesn’t get too upset. He’s got talent that way.”

  I nodded slowly. Much as Haywar sometimes had gotten on my nerves, I could tell he was upset. No one liked to realize that his child was unable to achieve on the same level as his parents. It happened, even in families with the best of advantages, but it was hard on the parents, and harder still on the child, no matter what sort of rationale was used.

  “Haywar!” called a voice, and then Denyse stepped through the faux French doors and onto the veranda. She stepped forward, looking around until her eyes found us. “Oh … Daryn … I didn’t realize you and Haywar were out here.”

  “I was enjoying the fresh air,” I offered. “It’s still a novelty these days.”

  “I would imagine so.” Denyse was a squarish blonde with direct green eyes, and a way of tilting her head to the left whenever she talked. “I couldn’t take being closed in like that.”

  “You get used to it.”

  “I’m not sure I ever would.” She looked at her husband. “I looked around, and you just wandered off. I was talking to Hynman Rykof about engineering schools. He was just behind us coming in, you know, and he had some insights I thought you would appreciate.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Haywar affirmed.

  Denyse nodded. “I’ll tell him. Please don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t, but I haven’t seen Daryn in years.”

  The blonde smiled. “I know. I’ll tell Hynman you’ll be coming.”

  As Denyse turned, Haywar shrugged, then said, “It’s good to see you. I hope I don’t have to rescue you from the ladies your mother has lined up —”