She stopped pacing and plopped down in a soft chair, where she tried to think of other things, of anything else....
The odd thing was, the more time Sonya spent on Skyship (three years now), the more she’d found that she actually liked and respected Billy Jeeling. For the last six months, she’d been having doubts about the mission on which she’d been sent, though she revealed none of this in her reports to HQ—and she only sent them raw facts, with no opinion one way or the other about the man her brother was targeting so zealously. In fact, she had noticed a number of good things about Billy, such as his genuine concern for ecology, and she didn’t really want to harm him.
True enough, Billy had been on Skyship for too long and should step down, but that didn’t mean his reputation should be ruined, or that he should be treated as if his great deeds had never occurred. It didn’t mean that lies, half truths, and innuendos should be spread about him—and she knew that some of the information she’d reported had been twisted and distorted for release to the public, almost beyond recognition. As but one example, she’d reported that on occasion Billy liked to retreat to his high walkway, where he contemplated matters he considered important, and gazed at distant constellations. That was a perfectly logical thing for him to do, considering the responsibilities and pressures he was under—but General Moore and his cronies put out stories that the retreats and star-gazing proved Billy was getting old and losing his marbles.
Sonya had not been sure how to distance herself from that campaign of hatred and distortion, so she just kept sending in her reports dutifully, without commentary.
Until now. With her mindwave implant going berserk, she could no longer send any information to AmEarth. She would have to make an excuse and get off Skyship, saying she needed to take a leave of absence—that the breakup with Devv Jeeling had upset her so much that she needed to get away from him and seek counseling. That could mean she was coming back, or not. It left both options open.
But how could she concentrate enough to speak coherently to anyone when her brain throbbed and the virtual-reality pop-ups were in front of her face, and wouldn’t go away? The images were filmy, like a thin fog inhibiting her vision.
She thought about this problem for an hour. Finally, hearing Bett Jacoby return to her next-door apartment, Sonya took a deep breath and decided she needed to confide in someone... at least a little bit. She wanted to tell Bett about the out-of-control VR displays, and some of her other physical symptoms.
When Sonya knocked on Bett’s door, the pop-up displays were still out of whack, a jumble of images in front of her face. She peered through them, like through a filmy gauze, and looked at Bett. Inside her mind, the overlapping conversations continued, a raucous cacophony of unintelligible sounds.
“Sonya! Are you feeling better, dear? Come in, come in.”
The VR was still going, along with a dim clatter of voices, and Sonya said, “Do you see anything in front of my face, like a virtual-reality display? Anything at all?”
Bett narrowed her gaze. “No, nothing.”
“Well, I sure the hell do, and it’s driving me crazy. Do you hear anything, like chattering voices?”
Pause, then: “No, nothing like that, either. Just street noises, and the drone of humbabies outside. Normal stuff. Are you feeling all right?”
“No. That’s why I’m here.”
They stood inside the entry to the apartment. Bett was tall, but a little shorter than Sonya, and was a redhead with a prominent chin and an oval face. Her hair had a beautiful sheen, and people were always complimenting her on it. She wasn’t exactly pretty, and instead she was what people might call a handsome woman, not totally feminine, but still attractive in her own way. Sonya had always liked her.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Bett asked. “Would you like me to call Dr. Ginsberg?”
“No, not that. Anything but that. Thanks, but I need to see my own doctor on AmEarth. I don’t trust anyone else.” Sonya grimaced as a needle of pain shot into the center of her brain.
“But maybe she can give you some medication. You appear to be in discomfort, hurting.”
“I need to get back to AmEarth. I only trust my own doctor.”
“Of course, dear. I can understand that.”
“Could you possibly help me make arrangements to get off Skyship as soon as possible, and get me back to my home town?”
“You can’t mindcom the request?”
Sonya shook her head. “My implant is all out of whack,” she admitted.
Bett nodded compassionately.
“There shouldn’t be any cost,” Sonya said, “because the shuttle is free, but I don’t feel up to going out and handling the details, making the explanations. I don’t want to see any people right now, except for you.” Sonya smiled softly, said, “I’ve always thought you had a gentle way about you, a kindness.”
“Well, thank you. My Mom told me I could have been a social worker, a nurse, or even a minister. I do like to help folks whenever I can.”
Bett placed a couple of mindwave calls and made the arrangements. It only took a few minutes. Then Sonya returned to her apartment to wait. She had a reservation to depart that afternoon.
CHAPTER 25
“We should always listen more than we talk. Why else were we provided with two ears, and only one mouth? And your eyes—you have two of them as well. Use them, damn it!”
—Branson Tobek, instruction to his young ward
Yürgen Zayeddi had tried to contact Sonya several times, but had gotten no response. He didn’t understand why. He’d done nothing wrong, and had thought they’d been good together.
Now he stood outside her apartment, knocking on the door. It was mid-morning, and he had a little extra time, so he decided to check on Sonya before his scheduled class in the Public Relations College.
It had been very physical between him and the attractive woman, an explosion of passion. If they’d had the opportunity, he thought there could have been more between them, a genuine and complete relationship. He liked her as a person, maybe even had deeper feelings for her, and now he missed her terribly. It couldn’t be love, at least not yet, but that might be a possibility, given enough time. Sonya certainly was intelligent, and had a bright, pleasant way about her.
There was no answer at her door. He started to write her a note, then noticed what appeared to be one of the notes he’d already left for her at the bottom of the door, just a corner of a piece of paper sticking out. He bent over and retrieved it, confirming that it was from him. He replaced it and walked away.
At the end of the hallway, he was confronted by a robot that had just stepped out of a highlift. He recognized it as one of the simpler police models that patrolled the interiors of various buildings. The machine had a small scan-light on its head, like a bright flashlight, pointing at Yürgen and making him squint in the blinding light. He felt his face being scanned to check its identity markers. The scanner brightness diminished to a pale blue, and his name flashed on a screen that appeared on the robot’s torso. Then the machine said, “State your purpose.”
“I came to see Sonya Orr, to check on her. She’s a friend of mine, was injured yesterday.”
“You are not on the authorized list for this floor.”
“I’ve been here several times. With her, and by myself to leave her notes.”
“You are not on the authorized list for this floor.”
“There must be a mistake. I was just—”
He stopped, when he saw the robot flash orange on its scanner, a sign that its programming was entering a stage where the automaton could become violent. This one had a short fuse, didn’t seem to tolerate any discussion at all. The flashing continued, and increased in rapidity.
Yürgen took half a step back.
“You are not on the authorized list,” the machine repeated. “That includes all situations, and all possible things you might say. No exceptions, no excuses, no justifications.”
He didn’t know what to say, looked past the robot to the bank of highlifts. His muscles seemed frozen, as he tried to figure out what he should do next, or say.
The orange scanner grew brighter and flashed faster, heightened danger.
“All right,” Yürgen said. “I’m sorry. I thought I could check on her, but apparently I was in error.” He took a deep breath and walked carefully around the robot, then ordered a highlift. Glancing back, he saw that the scanner of the robot had reverted to its normal coloration, a darker blue. But it watched him until Yürgen was on board and away.
He thought it was ironic, how a member of the Skyship Security Force had just confronted him, when they were under the control of Devv Jeeling. Ironic, because Devv was the one who hit Sonya and hurt her. Were charges going to be brought against the Security Commander for that outrageous, unjustified assault? If so, Yürgen might find himself called into court as a witness—though that seemed unlikely to him. The younger Jeeling would not want the embarrassment. He would get it all swept under the rug, with the approval of his father....
A short while later Zayeddi entered a classroom that was smaller than the one in which he’d taken his earlier training, and took his assigned seat near the front. He was one of only a few who’d been selected for advanced training to become a PR team leader, instead of just a member. Lainey Forster was expanding the program, intending to hit more cities and towns with the truth about Billy Jeeling, to counter the steady stream of negative information that was being spread by his enemies.
High in an office tower, the classroom had a slightly curved ceiling, bearing an artist’s rendition of constellations and galaxies. Through the window on his right, he could see Billy’s famous sky-high walkway just above this level, where the great man was reportedly spotted at times, in deep and solitary contemplation. Yürgen had not met his hero yet, but had seen him once from a distance, when the Master of Skyship gave an environmental speech to a gathering of workers on the central grazzeen park, emphasizing the need for them to keep trying to improve the efficiency of the great vessel.
Today Yürgen and his classmates were supposed to study in teams of two, but his own companion Rand Baker was late, and class was about to start. Under the partnering program each student was supposed to watch out for his “study buddy,” helping the other person learn, and serving as a practice foe in a series of ongoing Billy Jeeling-related debates. The matchings were computer-generated, based upon extensive psychological and performance tests.
The instructor was his former PR team leader, Nanette Kingston, who stood at a podium reviewing the lesson she was about to give. She looked up, at the empty seat next to Yürgen, and frowned. Her disapproving gaze fell on him. “As Baker’s partner it is your responsibility,” she said, in a condescending tone, “to make certain he arrives in class.”
Yürgen had not imagined he wouldn’t show up. So far, Rand had never missed a class, and had expressed support for Billy Jeeling, albeit somewhat muted at times. Even so, it had never occurred to him that his classmate might not appear.
“He’d better be seriously injured, or dead,” Kingston said. “Go and find out where he is, or what’s happened to him.”
Yürgen nodded, rose to his feet and stepped into the aisle.
“Wait a minute,” she said. Kingston left the podium and marched down the aisle toward him, holding a small, slender tube, which she activated, to display blinking red lights on it. “This is called a sniffer,” she said. She looked down at it, made an adjustment. “It’s receiving a signal that is being transmitted by Mr. Baker.”
He looked at her, perplexed. “Something on his clothing?”
“Something in his body, just beneath the skin. He carries a tiny transmitter from one of the medical shots he received on Skyship; all of you received one during your physical exams.” She turned the device over, pointed it upward and to her right. “He’s up there somewhere, probably on an upper level of one of the residential towers. He probably has a girlfriend, and went to see her. Get Baker and bring him back.”
Yürgen Zayeddi felt a surge of anger at the intrusion of the tracking devices that all of them had received, and which he had not known about before. No one had given permission as far as he knew, and he certainly hadn’t. He heard a murmuring in the classroom, didn’t think the other students liked it either.
She handed the device to him. It was cool to the touch. “See that yellow arrow that shifts and flashes when the unit is pointed in the right direction? Just keep following the arrow and you’ll find him. When you get closer, the arrow will flash brighter and more frequently. This is only one of the most basic, non-classified units, programmed to keep track of my students and fellow proctors. The security police have much more sophisticated units that show exactly where Baker is on Skyship—for emergency use. This one will take you a little longer, but it still works quite well.”
As Yürgen left the classroom he heard her beginning the session, with the rest of the class. Five minutes later he was on the street, cursing Rand Baker under his breath, going from building to building, using the sniffer. To his surprise, he discovered that the target’s signal was not coming from one of the residential towers at all. Standing at the base of a perimeter wall, just beyond those structures, he pointed the sniffer up, and received a stronger signal.
At a perimeter wall he took a highlift, one of the faster models that hurt his ears and made him slightly dizzy. He stepped out on a level above the tallest of all the towers, which he could see now through a broad wall of glassplaz. He took a moment to get oriented, then hurried down a wide corridor that curved slightly to the left. As the signal grew stronger, the yellow arrow flashed more frequently, and brighter. The flashing reminded him of the dangerous robot he’d dealt with earlier today.
Before class that morning, he and Rand Baker had lamented having to be taught by Nanette, who’d been such an irritating team leader on their PR mission to AmEarth. She was condescending, the sort of person who thought she had all the answers and didn’t listen well to others—especially to PR team members and students—whom she considered inferior to her.
“It seems we can’t escape from the bitch,” Rand had said....
Where are you? Yürgen wondered now, as he followed the signal, high inside the building. He passed half a dozen doors, all closed and locked.
When the signal began to grow weaker, he paused and retraced his steps, then reversed direction a couple of times, until he found a stable point in the middle, where the signal was strongest. He stopped and looked around. There were no doorways here, just a vented utility-access hatch on the other side. Crossing the corridor for a closer examination, he saw that the hatch was damaged, and slightly ajar. The signal grew stronger. He swung the hatch open, pointed the sniffer unit inside, and the arrow signal went crazy. It was quiet, perhaps for stealth.
Yürgen heard a metallic noise coming from the vent. He peered inside, and when his eyes adjusted he made out a wide gray pipe that extended for perhaps twenty meters. At a junction he saw the bottom of a ladder inside a vertical pipe, where someone was climbing down. Reaching the bottom, the person crawled toward him.
Removing a small but powerful flash-beam from his pocket, Yürgen shone it into the vent. He saw Rand Baker look up at him from all fours, startled. He stopped suddenly and stared into the beam, like a deer caught in a spotlight. A moment later he continued toward Yürgen, and finally crawled out of the vent, to stand in the corridor. His dark trousers and shirt were covered in grime and dust.
“What the hell were you doing in there?” Yürgen demanded.
Baker stared at the sniffer unit in Yürgen’s hand, at the flashing yellow arrow, without seeming to comprehend what it was. He began to stammer an excuse, then reached for a dart-gun on his weapon belt—one of the crowd-control weapons that they had learned to use in their training for the PR missions to AmEarth.
Yürgen lunged toward him, grabbed the gun out of his hand and accident
ally fired it. To his shock the hot projectile hit Baker in the stomach, knocking him back. The injured man cried out, tried to get another weapon, but stumbled and fell, bleeding from a stomach wound.
With gasping breaths, Baker said, “You have no idea what damage I’ve done to Skyship! You think I only did something inside the vent? You’ll all find out, but it will be too late.” He reached for a weapon again, but Yürgen fired repeatedly, until Baker stopped moving.
An explosion sounded inside the vent, and fire and debris shot out, knocking Yürgen over. As he slipped into a gray, dizzy realm of consciousness, he was only vaguely aware of uniformed police officers surrounding him, some human and others robots, making machine-communication sounds.
He struggled to his feet and said, “Tell Proctor Kingston I won’t be making it back to class today.”
Yürgen didn’t know why he’d just said that. He wasn’t trying to be funny. But it was the first thing that came into his mind. Then his thoughts clarified, and he began to tell the police what had happened.
~~~
Earlier in the day, Sonya had been home when Yürgen Zayeddi knocked on her door. She’d almost answered, and had gone up to the door on the inside without touching the handle, close to the man on the other side. But she’d just stood there silently, listening and waiting for him to leave. She’d heard Yürgen’s confrontation with a security robot, and then he was on his way, out of her life.
It was too bad their relationship hadn’t gone as far as either of them would have liked, because she liked him a lot. They had really connected, physically, emotionally, and intellectually. But she was on one side of the Jeeling dispute, and he was on the other, and she didn’t think the gap could ever be bridged. Though she respected Billy Jeeling, she had been working against him, while Yürgen was the most passionate of his supporters. He would not be happy to hear what her actual job was, and what she had done, so she didn’t think there was any hope for them, anyway.
The Assassination of Billy Jeeling Page 18