But Rand Baker’s instructors had not seemed to notice this, and his grades had been almost as good as Yürgen’s. Even so, there were things Baker did—tones of voice, facial expressions—that made him seem to be something other than the way he was presenting himself. It was as if someone had forced him into this duty, a parent, perhaps. Maybe his family gave him the choice of working for Billy, or service in the military.
Yürgen sighed in exasperation, but realized everyone could not be as passionate about Billy Jeeling as he and Nanette were.
CHAPTER 18
Jeeling is proselytizing on Skyship. Even though he denies it, he uses insidious tricks to pressure everyone on board to convert to Christianity. Why else would he install a huge Christian cross on top of the ship? And what’s next after that? Will he attack your own community? He burns non-Christian holy books in incinerators!
—From a pamphlet full of lies, distributed in Cairo City and in the Mumbai Municipality
“I’m sorry to report that you are still not pregnant,” Dr. Ginsberg said. The silver-haired woman stood in front of Lainey, who sat on an examination table in a small, pristine room where everything was white and clean.
Lainey felt sadness welling up inside her. She so wanted to have Billy’s child. Was it ever going to happen? With each passing day, her hopes waned. But she tried to continue to believe it was possible.
“What do you think our children would look like if I could have a baby?” Lainey asked. “Would they be light-skinned like me, dark like Billy, or something in between—perhaps a beautiful golden brown? I would like that, showing a combination of our races, demonstrating that great beauty can come from mixing the genetics of two very different-looking people.”
“I’m sure they would be beautiful,” Dr. Ginsberg said, but she had an odd look on her face. Lainey couldn’t quite figure it out.
The doctor wore a VR headset, and turned it on. A three-dimensional display popped up in front of her eyes—a blank medical form that she filled in with black lettering that appeared when she spoke into the receiver. She was entering details about this session into the data base for Skyship Hospital.
It was weird to Lainey, with the virtual-reality display floating between them, something that was there, but not there at the same time, because she could pass her hand completely through it, if she wanted to do so. She was seeing it from the backside now, could read some of the words backwards. But this report was not her primary concern.
She felt an infusion of deep sadness. “Billy worries that we can’t conceive. He’s been saying that more and more, and he’s genuinely sad about it. Maybe his worrying is getting in the way, preventing us from having a child. Could you please talk with him, and get him to relax about this? I’ve heard that tension can prevent conception. That’s not an old wives’ tale, is it?”
“I’ve heard the same thing, but have never seen any scientific evidence to support it. Even so, it sounds possible. Of course, I would be happy to talk with Billy about it.”
Lainey nodded. There had been rumors that Billy and the doctor were romantically involved. She had asked both of them about it, and received firm denials. They seemed sincere and convincing, and she genuinely liked both of them. She loved Billy, but she also liked him. He had a genuine quality about him, an intense focus on his critically important environmental work. And Dr. Ginsberg was similar in a sense, with a passion for her medical work, helping people to get well. A rumor held that she was a spinster, and was going to stay that way for the rest of her life.
I’m a spinster, too, Lainey thought. But I want to change that.
Rumors. Lainey shook her head sadly. The terrible things that people on AmEarth said about Billy, depicting him as a monster, and not the savior of humankind he really was. How could they say such awful, unproven things about him?
She peered through the virtual-reality display, studied the doctor’s hazel eyes. If she didn’t wear those round eyeglasses, and if she did something with her graying hair, she would be quite pretty. Was her appearance a disguise, to prevent Lainey from being jealous? Actually, from being more jealous than she already was?
On an intellectual level Lainey understood the nonphysical relationship Billy apparently had with this woman; it made sense. But on an emotional level, on a gut-instinct level, she sensed that the two of them were keeping something from her. She’d seen that inexplicably odd expression on the doctor’s face a few moments ago.
What was wrong here? Could it be a genetic trait that Lainey had, or a dread disease, something in her body that prevented her from becoming the loving mother she wanted to be? Or was the problem with Billy? Was he all right physically? He was old, but men could still be fathers at his age. Many were. Maybe it was something else about him physically, something he hadn’t revealed to her. Lainey worried more about him than she did about herself.
Dr. Ginsberg noticed Lainey looking at her, and shut off the VR display. “Are you feeling all right, dear?”
Lainey looked away, didn’t reply. She didn’t want to say what was on her mind. It would make her sound crazy. And a new thought was working its way into her awareness, wriggling in like a venomous snake. Was the doctor doing something to her to prevent a pregnancy?
If she ever found that to be true, Lainey felt capable of killing the woman.
Stop taking medications from her, she thought. And no more shots.
Dr. Ginsberg turned and went to a cabinet, where she kept such things. She opened a drawer, began preparing a syringe by filling it from a vial.
Lainey leaped off the examination table and ran out of the room. Behind her, the doctor called her name, asking what was wrong. But Lainey didn’t answer. She just kept going, as fast as she could.
CHAPTER 19
Every human has a secret life.
—Ancient saying
Billy was up earlier than usual this morning, and used the extra time to take a highlift to the walkway where he sometimes went to think about important matters, and to gaze out into the universe of stars. Except this time he used his security code to go through a wide doorway into a windowless corridor. He passed a glassplaz door, through which he could see one of his private library-reading rooms, and then paused his chair at a second glassplaz door, to look in at a number of Lazarus-series robots he had stored inside, along with mood-modification transmitters, other accessories, and spare parts.
These robots were only skeletons now, with no identifiable features except for the internal workings and exterior characteristics that identified them as male or female—twenty of each gender. These units did not have human imprints on them yet, which would give them customized personalities and appearances, such as the imprint he gave to Lainey. She was one of a dozen operating robots of this model, “men” and “women” who worked on board. There had been problems with some of the units, including Lainey, but nothing so serious that it warranted shutting any of the machines down and replacing them with backups. He could customize the appearances of robots easier than their personalities, so conceivably he could send a robot to replace Lainey that looked exactly like her, but with a completely different (or slightly different) personality.
There were numerous options, and because this model was still experimental, he maintained detailed written records of the experiments he conducted, somewhat like Tobek’s leather-bound journals—except Billy’s were large dark blue volumes, while Tobek’s were red. Billy’s completed laboratory journals were stacked neatly on a shelf inside the room, while Tobek’s remained inside the sealed laboratory complex where he died. Billy also had audiovisual records.
On his maglev chair he continued down the corridor, to the last glassplaz door on the right, and looked through it into a small specialized laboratory that he maintained, where he kept the genetic samples that were used to imprint human traits onto the Lazarus-series robots. The samples were inside several wide refrigerated cabinets at the back of the room. He could see the small sealed packets through
the clear doors of the cabinets, arranged neatly on shelves, with each sample marked as to its source.
Each of the sample packets contained a variety of genetic samples, in sealed packet sleeves—such as blood, hair, saliva, skin scrapings and other cellular material, toenails and fingernails, semen, amniotic fluid, earwax, brain tissue, organ parts, and more—depending upon what was available from a deceased human being (such as Reanne), or a living person whose samples he sometimes collected. One of the packets even had his own name on it, and contained a variety of his genetic materials. The variety of samples from each donor came in handy in the customization of a Lazarus-series robot—because the more different parts of the original body he had on hand, the closer he could make the robotic version match the real human. It was best to grow the various body parts separately from real genetic material (and combined later), but whatever could not be grown that way could be synthesized. Through careful study and experimentation, he had developed methods of generating human parts out of artificial materials, but the more he had to make this way, the less the robot was likely to resemble the original human.
He didn’t come up to this level as often as when he was first developing the Lazarus androids, but whenever he had spare time he still liked to tinker around in one of his laboratories, which he had both here and in the secret core of the ship. It reminded him of the time that Branson Tobek had spent in his own laboratories, first on AmEarth and later on Skyship. They were places to be creative, where new ideas could be developed.
Today, he wrote an entry in an open journal, details he’d been noticing about two of the working Lazarus models that were operating on the ship, little variations from what he had anticipated, and thoughts about what he might do to prevent this from recurring on future activations.
~~~
At midday, a government vessel from the AmEarth Empire hovered just outside Skyship’s docking port for visitors, waiting for permission to connect, and for its passengers to come aboard. They identified themselves as emissaries from the government of Prime Minister Yhatt. Skyship was in the upper troposphere, where it would remain for the next couple of days.
Without responding to them yet, Billy Jeeling ordered his son and a squadron of police security robots to meet him in the terminal lobby, a sealed enclosure with a large viewing window.
Devv took a seat in a chair at the viewing window, beside Billy, who was already there in his maglev chair. Billy leaned forward and gazed at the visiting craft. It was long and slim, with retractable wings and an adjustable stem-to-stern arch... the sort of passenger conveyance that had not been popular for decades. In its heyday the designers attributed great aerodynamic and cosmic properties to it. Wind and planetary forces were taken into account, Jeeling recalled them saying, and the ship’s configuration could be adjusted to such an arch that it resembled a flying banana, except it was silver, not yellow.
“I know that ship,” he said. He straightened.
“Kanaba class passenger ship,” Devv Jeeling said. “An old one. High AmEarth range, fully loaded with luxuries. Old style fuel pellets. What’s that say on the side?” Devv asked, squinting. “Over the hatch?”
“Top Banana,” the elder Jeeling said, without humor. “It’s the Prime Minister’s personal ship, but apparently he’s not aboard.”
“Permission to come aboard,” a voice said, crackling across the parabolic speakers in the lobby.
Billy let out his breath slowly, glanced up at Devv.
“Put scanners on that ship,” Devv shouted to one of the security ‘bots. “So we can see this guy.”
On the robot’s torso, a vertical light tube pulsed blue. The sentient machine rolled to one of the instrument panels, made several settings, and an intense white light bathed the passenger ship. Billy Jeeling and his son moved close to a multi-dimensional screen that went on, casting fuzzy gray light. An image clarified and focused in color, and the picture wandered as scanners moved over the ship, searching for the man who had spoken. There were perhaps two hundred men and women aboard, in their comfortable seats or standing about, talking. Among them were security officers wearing the bright red uniforms of the Imperial Guard. Jeeling estimated twenty-five or thirty of these officers in the main passenger cabin.
The scanner moved to a private cabin at the rear of the ship, and focused on two people there, whom he recognized as his former friend Paul Paulo in a black silk suit, and a woman whom he did not know. The cabin was lavishly decorated, with paintings and sculptures that looked as if they might be originals.
“That’s him,” Billy said. “Open com.”
The robot flipped a lever, opening the lobby’s transmitting parabolics, and Billy Jeeling spoke tersely: “Paul, get your wrinkled old ass out of here. I don’t want to talk to you or anyone else.”
“Ah, Billy!” Paul Paulo responded. His words were a little out of synch with his image, and the ‘bot made adjustments to correct this. “And how are you today, my old friend?”
“I’ve been better.”
“That’s why I’m here, to see what I can do to improve that. Flip something on so I can see you.” The elegant old man toyed nervously with golden buttons on his sleeves.
“I like it better this way. What sort of scheme are you up to now, Paul?”
“I’m not your enemy. I’ve done nothing against you, Billy, so help me God. Are you looking at me?”
“Yeah. You and your young girlfriend.”
“I’m not his girlfriend!” the woman exclaimed. She was not really that young but was quite pretty nonetheless, a brunette with large green eyes.
“This is Maureen Stuart,” Paul Paulo said. “She’s happily married, and is the legal adviser to a group of your adversaries. I’ve brought her with a delegation of experts who understand your point of view and the opposite, to see if some progress can be made to end our present difficulties.”
“Contrary to some of the rumors on your planet, I remain loyal to the Empire. I always have been. It’s just that I don’t intend to be forced out of my life’s work. I should be appreciated for what I’ve done, not criticized, burned in effigy, or ridiculed.”
“There’s truth in what you say, my old friend. It’s why I was sent here, to bring the parties together.” Paulo nodded somberly, placed one hand in a large pocket of his magnificent black silk suit, and then motioned expansively with the other hand, like a politician delivering a speech. “Billy, I’ve never said anything against you in public. I’d like to help sort all this out.”
“Too late for that. Tangents are spinning off of tangents. Wild rumors are breeding like flies in the dark, in festering, moist crap. Very little of it bears any resemblance to the truth.”
“You tell ‘em, Billy!” Devv exclaimed.
He didn’t look at the Security Commander or show that he’d heard.
“Grant us permission to come aboard,” Paulo said. “We’ll talk about it.” He paused. “For the good and close friends we once were. I ask you as a personal favor. Will you do this for me, Billy?”
He felt his resistance fading, a moment in which fond memories of this man surfaced in his memory. “All right, Paul, but for only an hour. I haven’t had my lunch yet. Have you eaten? Would you like to join me?”
“Haven’t eaten yet. That would be nice. Thank you.”
“Leave your guardsmen on Yhatt’s ship. You won’t be needing them.”
“Of course. Is it all right if Mrs. Stuart joins us? She is quite a rational, balanced person, and good at coming up with solutions to problems. You will like her. Later, with your permission, I could bring more people to negotiate the details with your... specialists.”
“I’m not leaving Skyship, so get that out of your head. If that’s what you’re here about, you might as well turn around and go back.”
“All right, Billy, the subject won’t even come up. Just me and Mrs. Stuart for a pleasant lunch. All right?”
“OK, then. I will be with my son. Just the four of us
.”
“Oh yes, your Security Commander.”
A few minutes later the ship connected to the dock with magnetic clamps, and the main hatch irised open, like the widening of an immense eye. It was an odd, round door, more stylistic than practical, with a curved floor on the bottom. Paulo stepped across the threshold and onto a downward-sloping, sealed tunnel, followed by the brunette.
The tunnel opened into a tile-floored lobby. There, Billy rode his maglev chair forward on its cushion of air, with Devv beside him. A score of heavily armed security robots remained a few paces behind them.
When Paul Paulo introduced Maureen Stuart to them, the woman said, “Very pleased to finally meet you, sir. There have been too many misunderstandings, and I hope to help—”
Just then, Billy heard the friction of sliding metal, and was startled to see numerous hidden gun ports opening on the side of the passenger ship. A loud barrage of weapon fire ensued, discharging projectiles that dropped the entire force of security robots before they could get off a single shot.
Red-uniformed guardsmen poured out of the ship, carrying laser rifles that glowed bright blue on their handles, ready to fire. The scanners had not detected them, so camouflage technology must have been used.
“What the hell is this?” Paulo shouted. “Stop and go back! Immediately! I didn’t order this!”
The guardsmen ignored him. “We take our orders from General Moore, not from you,” one of them said. A short man, he appeared to be the commander of the squad, had a silver officer’s insignia on his collar.
Alarm klaxons sounded, a cacophony of urgent noise. Devv was able to draw an automatic handgun, and stood protectively next to his father. But he didn’t fire, not yet.
“We had no idea this was going to happen!” Stuart said. She seemed to be genuinely surprised, but it could be an act. And Paulo looked extremely angry—but that also could be feigned.
The Assassination of Billy Jeeling Page 14