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Jim Baen’s Universe

Page 19

by Edited by Eric Flint


  “Manu did. He’s pro­of that the le­gends we­re true, Jon. He’s a se­er.”

  I sta­red at the boy, who con­ti­nu­ed to eat as if we we­ren’t the­re. I al­re­ady knew the le­gends we­re true, be­ca­use I was pro­of of it. I was born re­tar­ded, but Jen­nie not only fi­xed me, she ma­de me so­me­how ab­le to com­mu­ni­ca­te on mac­hi­ne fre­qu­en­ci­es, see in the IR ran­ge, and con­t­rol the na­no-mac­hi­nes the Ag­gro sci­en­tists la­ter inj­ec­ted in­to me. She’d told me that ot­hers with spe­ci­al po­wers exis­ted, but she’d ne­ver pro­vi­ded spe­ci­fics, and I’ve ne­ver met any of them. Tho­ugh Jack’s story of Pin­kel­pon­ker na­ti­ves vi­si­ting ot­her pla­nets se­emed re­aso­nab­le eno­ugh-the we­althy of all worlds mo­ve aro­und re­adily-I’d ne­ver he­ard it be­fo­re. Mo­re im­por­tantly, with Jack I co­uldn’t trust an­y­t­hing to be the who­le story. I ne­eded to ke­ep him tal­king and ho­pe I co­uld lu­re him in­to gi­ving me mo­re of the truth than he’d plan­ned.

  “I don’t buy it, Jack,” I sa­id. “If the boy co­uld see the fu­tu­re, he’d al­re­ady be fa­mo­us or rich-or the hid­den pro­perty of so­me con­g­lo­me­ra­te. He su­re wo­uldn’t be with you.”

  Jack sho­ok his he­ad. “Wrong on all co­unts, Jon.” He held up his right hand and tic­ked off the po­ints on his long, ele­gant fin­gers. “First, his po­wers don’t work re­li­ably. I told you: he’s two ge­ne­ra­ti­ons away from the pla­net. He se­es the fu­tu­re, but in vi­si­ons who­se su­bj­ects he can’t con­t­rol. He do­esn’t even know when they’ll hit him. Se­cond, his pa­rents, tho­ugh not well off, aren’t stu­pid, so they’ve kept him hid­den. Third, and this le­ads me to why I’m he­re, the vi­si­ons da­ma­ge him. In fact, wit­ho­ut the right tre­at­ments to sup­press them, and wit­ho­ut con­ti­nu­ing tho­se tre­at­ments in­de­fi­ni­tely, well,” he lo­oked at the boy with what ap­pe­ared to be ge­nu­ine fon­d­ness and then sta­red at me, cho­osing his words ca­re­ful­ly, “his body won’t be ab­le to pay the bill his mind will in­cur.”

  “You don’t ne­ed me to go to a med tech,” I sa­id.

  “Normal med techs can’t pro­vi­de the­se tre­at­ments,” Jack sa­id, “and tho­se few that do of­fer them char­ge a gre­at de­al mo­re than his pa­rents can af­ford. The who­le si­tu­ati­on is al­so com­p­li­ca­ted by our ne­ed to ke­ep Ma­nu’s abi­li­ti­es qu­i­et.”

  “You sa­id he’s with you, so why not just pay the bill yo­ur­self?”

  “Alas, Jon,” he sa­id with a wis­t­ful smi­le, “my own funds are ina­de­qu­ate to the task.”

  “So you want to bor­row the mo­ney from me?” I sa­id. Jack and I had co­ve­red this gro­und be­fo­re, af­ter the se­cond ti­me I was stu­pid eno­ugh to grant him a lo­an, and he knew I’d vo­wed ne­ver to do it aga­in.

  He hadn’t for­got­ten: he wa­ved his hands qu­ickly and sho­ok his he­ad. “No, no, of co­ur­se not. I’m simply hel­ping Ma­nu and his pa­rents get the mo­ney. I’ve ar­ran­ged a way, but it has,” he pa­used, gi­ving the im­p­res­si­on of se­ar­c­hing for words I’m su­re he’d al­re­ady re­he­ar­sed, “an ele­ment of risk.”

  I mo­ti­oned him to con­ti­nue and lo­oked at Ma­nu. The boy ate slowly and met­ho­di­cal­ly, wit­ho­ut pa­use, with the kind of de­ter­mi­ned fo­cus com­mon among tho­se who ne­ver know how long it’ll be un­til the­ir next me­al.

  “Pinkelponker is, as you might ima­gi­ne, the obj­ect of con­si­de­rab­le in­te­rest to cer­ta­in mystic gro­ups, as well as to many his­to­ri­ans. One par­ti­cu­lar Pin­kel­pon­ker fa­na­tic, an ex­t­re­mely we­althy man na­med Ma­nu­te Do­ugat, has set up a Pin­kel­pon­ker re­se­arch cen­ter and mu­se­um-al­most a tem­p­le, re­al­ly-ne­ar the oce­an on the nor­t­hern ed­ge of dow­n­town Eddy. Do­ugat’s in­ter­vi­ewed every Pin­kel­pon­ker sur­vi­vor and sur­vi­vor des­cen­dant he’s ever fo­und. He cla­ims to ma­ke all the re­cor­dings ava­ilab­le in his in­s­ti­tu­te, tho­ugh,” Jack pa­used and sta­red off in­to spa­ce for a mo­ment, “I sus­pect he’s the sort who’s held back an­y­t­hing of any se­ri­o­us po­ten­ti­al va­lue. What mat­ters most is that he pays for the in­ter­vi­ews. I’ve con­tac­ted him abo­ut Ma­nu, and he’s of­fe­red to pay eno­ugh-just for an in­ter­vi­ew, no mo­re-to ke­ep the boy in tre­at­ments for a very long ti­me.”

  “So what’s the prob­lem?” I sa­id. “It so­unds li­ke you’ve fo­und a way to get the mo­ney you ne­ed.”

  “I don’t trust Do­ugat, Jon. He’s rich, which im­me­di­ately ma­kes him sus­pect. Wor­se, you can he­ar the fer­vor in his vo­ice when he talks abo­ut Pin­kel­pon­ker, and fa­na­tics al­ways sca­re me. When I told him abo­ut Ma­nu’s vi­si­ons, he so­un­ded as if he we­re a Ga­tist with a chan­ce to be the first to le­arn the sec­ret of the jump ga­tes. He’s not fa­king his in­te­rest, eit­her. You know I’ve spent a lot of my li­fe cul­ti­va­ting de­si­re in marks and spot­ting when they we­re ho­oked; well, Do­ugat wants Ma­nu badly, Jon, badly eno­ugh that I’m wor­ri­ed he might try to ta­ke the boy.”

  “You’re as­king me to pro­vi­de pro­tec­ti­on?” I sa­id.

  “You and that bat­tle wa­gon of yo­urs,” Jack sa­id qu­i­etly. “If I’m wrong abo­ut Do­ugat, this will cost you only a lit­tle ti­me. If I’m right, tho­ugh, then I’ll fe­el a lot bet­ter with you be­si­de me. You know I’m no go­od at vi­olen­ce, and, as I re­call, you are.”

  Despite myself, I nod­ded. I don’t li­ke vi­olen­ce; at le­ast the part of me un­der my con­s­ci­o­us con­t­rol do­esn’t li­ke it, but the an­ger that’s mo­re tightly bo­und in­to me than the na­no-mac­hi­nes emer­ges all too re­adily. I tell myself I do ever­y­t­hing re­aso­nably pos­sib­le to avo­id fights, but all too of­ten the jobs I ta­ke end up in con­f­lict.

  “You’ve al­re­ady le­ar­ned I’m a pri­va­te co­uri­er,” I sa­id. “If you and the boy want to go so­mew­he­re, and if you ha­ve the fa­re, I’ll tre­at you as a pac­ka­ge and ta­ke you to yo­ur des­ti­na­ti­on un­der my ca­re. I’m no bod­y­gu­ard, tho­ugh”-I had no re­ason to as­su­me Jack knew of the fi­ve ye­ars I’d spent be­ing exactly that-“so I can’t help you with the me­eting.”

  “One day, Jon,” he sa­id, “just one day. That’s all I ne­ed you for. We me­et Do­ugat to­mor­row at the In­s­ti­tu­te. I wan­ted a sa­fe, pub­lic pla­ce, but he wo­uldn’t go an­y­w­he­re he co­uldn’t con­t­rol the se­cu­rity. We com­p­ro­mi­sed on me­eting in the open, on the gro­unds in front of his ma­in bu­il­ding, whe­re an­yo­ne pas­sing by co­uld see us. All I’m as­king is that you co­me with us, watch our backs, and if things turn bad, ta­ke us out of the­re. That’s it.”

  I knew Jack wo­uldn’t drop it un­til I’d fo­und a way to say no that he un­der­s­to­od, so I cut to the easi­est es­ca­pe ro­ute. “How much do you pro­po­se to pay me for this?” I sa­id.

  “Nothing.”

  No an­s­wer he co­uld ha­ve gi­ven wo­uld ha­ve sur­p­ri­sed me mo­re. Jack al­ways ca­me re­ady to any bar­ga­ining tab­le. I fo­ught to ke­ep the sur­p­ri­se from sho­wing on my fa­ce. It was the first thing he’d sa­id that ma­de me won­der if he might ac­tu­al­ly be stra­ight for on­ce.

  “I don’t ha­ve any mo­ney to pay you,” he con­ti­nu­ed, “and I won’t ma­ke any from this me­eting; ever­y­t­hing Do­ugat pays go­es to Ma­nu. I’m do­ing it for him, and I’m as­king you to do the sa­me. With all the di­cey bu­si­ness we’ve wor­ked, wo­uldn’t you li­ke to simply do so­me go­od now and aga­in?”

  The spark of trust Jack had cre­ated win­ked out as I re­ali­zed the­re was no way he was do­ing so­met­hing for not­hing. “Why are you in­vol­ved in all this, Jack? Skip the pitch and just tell me.”

  Jack lo­oked at Ma­nu for a few se­conds.
“I re­al­ly am out to help Ma­nu. His dad’s a fri­end, and I fe­el bad for the boy.” He stra­ig­h­te­ned and a pa­ined ex­p­res­si­on flic­ke­red on his fa­ce for an in­s­tant. “And, Earth’s gre­atest ex­port has on­ce aga­in led me to a debt I must re­pay, this ti­me to Ma­nu’s fat­her.”

  “Poker,” I sa­id, la­ug­hing. “A gam­b­ling debt?” Jack had al­ways lo­ved the ga­me, and we’d pla­yed it both for ple­asu­re and on the hus­t­le, stra­ight up and bent. I enj­oyed it well eno­ugh, but I ra­rely so­ught it, and I co­uld al­ways walk away. For him, po­ker held a stron­ger at­trac­ti­on, one he fre­qu­ently lost the will to fight.

  “It was as su­re a hand as I’ve ever se­en, Jon,” he sa­id, the ex­ci­te­ment in his vo­ice a for­ce at the small tab­le. Ma­nu star­ted at Jack’s to­ne but re­su­med eating when ever­y­t­hing ap­pe­ared to be okay. “Se­ven stud, three be­a­uti­ful eights to gre­et me, the next card the fo­urth, and a world of op­por­tu­nity spre­ad be­fo­re me. He ca­ught the fi­nal two tens on the last two car­ds-cards he ne­ver sho­uld ha­ve pa­id to see. Un­be­li­evab­le luck. A bet­ter pla­yer wo­uld ha­ve fol­ded long be­fo­re. I put ever­y­t­hing in­to that pot. It was mi­ne.” He pa­used for a few se­conds, and when he con­ti­nu­ed he was back un­der con­t­rol. “Ho­nestly, Jon, I was wil­ling to help Ma­nu be­fo­re that hand, but yes, lo­sing it gu­aran­te­ed my par­ti­ci­pa­ti­on.”

  “Your debt is not my prob­lem, Jack.”

  “I re­ali­ze that, and I wo­uldn’t be as­king you if I had an al­ter­na­ti­ve. Un­for­tu­na­tely, I don’t. Do­ugat is the only op­ti­on Ma­nu’s fat­her has fo­und, I’m com­mit­ted to help, and I don’t trust Do­ugat. I’ll go it alo­ne if I must, and I’m con­fi­dent I’ll walk away from the me­eting, be­ca­use I hold no in­te­rest for the man, but I fe­ar-" he glan­ced down at Ma­nu and then spo­ke qu­ic­k­ly-“that I’ll exit alo­ne.”

  That Jack was in a bind was ne­ver news-he’d be in tro­ub­le as long as he li­ved-and my days of ob­li­ga­ti­on to him we­re long over. I felt bad for the boy, wor­se than Jack co­uld know be­ca­use my ina­bi­lity to sa­ve Jen­nie has left me a soft to­uch for chil­d­ren in tro­ub­le, but I le­ar­ned long ago that I can’t sa­ve them all. Wor­se, re­cent ex­pe­ri­en­ce had ta­ught me that trying to res­cue even one of them co­uld le­ad to the kind of tro­ub­le I was lucky to sur­vi­ve. If I wan­ted to avo­id mo­re dan­ger, I not only ne­eded to ste­er cle­ar of Jack, I had to le­ave Mund so­on, be­ca­use I had to as­su­me the sa­me ga­te staff he’d bri­bed wo­uld be aler­ting ot­hers to my pre­sen­ce. An­yo­ne wil­ling to sell in­for­ma­ti­on for the sorts of fe­es Jack co­uld af­ford wo­uld su­rely try to bo­ost the­ir pro­fits by re­sel­ling that sa­me da­ta.

  The only re­aso­nab­le cho­ice was to walk away now and le­ave the pla­net.

  As much as I fo­ught it, ho­we­ver, I knew I wo­uldn’t ma­ke that cho­ice.

  The prob­lem was the Pin­kel­pon­ker con­nec­ti­on. Do­ugat’s re­se­arch cen­ter might pro­vi­de in­for­ma­ti­on I co­uld use. If Ma­nu re­al­ly we­re a se­er, he might be a so­ur­ce of use­ful da­ta. I al­so had to de­ter­mi­ne whet­her Jack knew abo­ut or even sus­pec­ted my ti­es to the pla­net, and, if he did, just what he’d le­ar­ned.

  Finally, I had to ad­mit that be­ca­use so many of the jobs I’ve ta­ken ha­ve led to so much da­ma­ge, the pros­pect of do­ing so­met­hing ge­nu­inely go­od al­ways ap­pe­aled to me.

  I sta­red in­to Jack’s eyes and tri­ed to re­ad him. He held my ga­ze, too go­od a sa­les­man to lo­ok away or push har­der when he knew the ho­ok was in de­ep. Even as I lo­oked at him I re­mem­be­red how ut­terly po­in­t­less it was to se­arch for the truth in his fa­ce. Jack ex­cel­led at clo­se-up cons be­ca­use at so­me le­vel he al­ways be­li­eved what he was sel­ling, and so to marks he al­ways ap­pe­ared ho­nest. The only way I co­uld gle­an mo­re in­for­ma­ti­on was to ac­cre­te it slowly by spen­ding ti­me with him.

  When I glan­ced at Ma­nu, I fo­und him wat­c­hing me ex­pec­tantly, ho­pe­ful­ly, as if he’d un­der­s­to­od ever­y­t­hing we’d dis­cus­sed. Per­haps he had; Jack hadn’t tri­ed very hard to ob­s­cu­re the to­pic.

  I to­ok a long, slow, de­ep bre­ath, and then lo­oked back at Jack. “I’ll help you,” I sa­id, “for the boy’s sa­ke.”

  “Thank you, Jon,” he sa­id.

  “Thank you, sir,” Ma­nu sa­id, his vo­ice wa­ve­ring but cle­ar. “I’m sorry for any tro­ub­le we’re ca­using you.”

  Either Jack had co­ac­hed the kid well, or the boy me­ant it. I de­ci­ded to ho­pe the sen­ti­ment was ge­nu­ine.

  “You’re wel­co­me,” I sa­id to Ma­nu.

  Jack ca­ught the snub, of co­ur­se, but he wi­sely cho­se to ig­no­re it.

  I now had a job to do and not eno­ugh prep ti­me to do it right. We had to get to work. “Jack, you sa­id the me­eting was to­mor­row, so our mis­si­on clock is much shor­ter than I’d li­ke. Lay it out for me.”

  ****

  The Pin­kel­pon­ker Re­se­arch In­s­ti­tu­te spraw­led ac­ross the bu­ilt-up nor­t­hern bor­der of Eddy li­ke a fe­ver dre­am. No signs war­ned that when you pas­sed the last of the rows of per­mac­re­te cor­po­ra­te he­ad­qu­ar­ters bu­il­dings you sho­uld ex­pect so­met­hing very dif­fe­rent in­de­ed. No lights, la­bels, ta­pes­t­ri­es, re­cor­dings, or wel­co­me dis­p­lays of­fe­red to ex­p­la­in it to you. In the mid­dle of a fi­ve-hun­d­red-me­ter-wi­de lot the gle­aming black zig­gu­rat simply com­man­ded yo­ur eye to fo­cus on the mi­ni­atu­re of Pin­kel­pon­ker that re­vol­ved slowly in the air a few me­ters abo­ve the bu­il­ding’s sum­mit.

  A per­fect lawn the mu­ted gre­en of shal­low se­awa­ter sur­ro­un­ded the bu­il­ding. Cir­cu­lar flo­wer beds rich in soft browns, glo­wing yel­lows, and de­ep­wa­ter blu­es burst from the grass at ap­pa­rently ran­dom lo­ca­ti­ons all over the lot. Only when you vi­ewed them from the air, as I had when Lo­bo and I had ma­de our first re­con pass af­ter my lunch with Jack, did you re­ali­ze that each gro­uping of plants ef­for­t­les­sly evo­ked an ima­ge of one of the many vol­ca­nic is­lands that we­re the only land mas­ses on my birth pla­net. The zig­gu­rat it­self lo­oked not­hing li­ke any of the in­di­vi­du­al is­lands I’d se­en, yet its ro­un­ded ed­ges and gra­ce­ful as­cent re­min­ded me of ho­me, ma­de me ac­he for it.

  I’d ta­ken Lo­bo to a doc­king fa­ci­lity on the west si­de of town and hop­ped a cab from the­re. I’d chan­ged cabs twi­ce on the chan­ce an­yo­ne had trac­ked me from the res­ta­urant, but ne­it­her Lo­bo nor I spot­ted an­yo­ne fol­lo­wing me. The last cab to­ok me down the stre­et that bor­de­red the In­s­ti­tu­te on the oce­an si­de, a wi­de ave­nue jam­med with ho­ver tran­s­ports, cabs, and per­so­nal ve­hic­les all rus­hing to and fro in the ser­vi­ce of Eddy’s gro­wing eco­nomy. The length of the cros­sing sig­nal ma­de it cle­ar that city plan­ners va­lu­ed ve­hic­les and com­mer­ce far mo­re than pe­des­t­ri­ans.

  When I fi­nal­ly ma­de it to the In­s­ti­tu­te’s oce­an-si­de en­t­ran­ce, I fo­und the ove­rall ef­fect far mo­re en­t­ran­cing than an­y­t­hing I’d an­ti­ci­pa­ted from my aeri­al sur­ve­il­lan­ce. I felt as if so­me­one had sam­p­led my me­mo­ri­es and re­com­bi­ned them, ma­na­ging in the pro­cess to cre­ate a set­ting that in no way re­sem­b­led ho­me but that at the sa­me ti­me re­war­ded every glan­ce with the sen­se that, yes, this fe­els li­ke Pin­kel­pon­ker. Wor­king in the gra­in fi­elds un­der the bright sun, the con­s­tant oce­an bre­eze co­oling me, Jen­nie due to co­me to vi­sit when her day was do­ne-I drif­ted back in­vo­lun­ta­rily, my me­mo­ri­es sum­mo­ned by Do­ugat’s ar­t­ful evo­ca­ti­on.

  I shut my eyes a
nd for­ced myself to fo­cus on the job. It was a si­te I had to anal­y­ze, not­hing mo­re. Jack’s task was to ke­ep Ma­nu hid­den un­til the me­eting. Mi­ne was to ma­ke su­re we all got out sa­fely if an­y­t­hing went wrong. To do that, I had to le­arn as much abo­ut this pla­ce as pos­sib­le in the few ho­urs ava­ilab­le.

  When I lo­oked aga­in, I did so pro­fes­si­onal­ly. No­ne of the scat­te­red plan­tings ro­se high eno­ugh or we­re den­se eno­ugh that you co­uld hi­de in them. That was go­od news for pos­sib­le thre­ats, but bad news sho­uld we ne­ed to ta­ke co­ver. I co­uldn’t spot any lawn-ca­re, gar­de­ning, or to­urist ap­pli­an­ces, and when I tu­ned my he­aring to the fre­qu­en­ci­es such mac­hi­nes use, I ca­ught not­hing.

  “Lobo,” I sa­id over our comm link, “ha­ve yo­ur scans tur­ned up an­y­t­hing?”

  “No,” he sa­id. “If the­re are we­apons out­si­de the bu­il­ding, they’re not gi­ving off any IR sig­na­tu­res I can tra­ce. I can find no evi­den­ce of sen­sor ac­ti­vity on the gro­unds. I can’t re­call a mo­re elec­t­ro­mag­ne­ti­cal­ly ne­ut­ral set­ting this clo­se to a city.”

  “Any luck pe­net­ra­ting the bu­il­ding?”

  “No. It’s ex­t­re­mely well shi­el­ded. It’s tran­s­mit­ting and re­ce­iving on a va­ri­ety of fre­qu­en­ci­es, of co­ur­se, but ever­y­t­hing is eit­her en­c­r­y­p­ted or just the usu­al pub­lic da­ta fe­eds.”

  “Anything sig­ni­fi­cant bet­we­en he­re and his wa­re­ho­use?” Do­ugat ope­ra­ted a ship­ping and re­ce­iving cen­ter on the so­uth end of the city.

  “Encrypted bursts of the si­ze you’d ex­pect for in­ven­tory and sen­sor ma­na­ge­ment. That pla­ce re­eks of mac­hi­ne se­cu­rity, but it’s not as shi­el­ded and cur­rently re­ads IR-ne­ut­ral. Best es­ti­ma­te is that no pe­op­le are the­re.”

 

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