The Quiet Pools

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

“Fine. Just listen. This is the truth: I only just heard about Memphis. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Do you think I’m that big an idiot? You don’t get another chance.”

  “How many ways can I say it? I feel sick about Memphis. I didn’t do it, I didn’t know about it, and I didn’t want it to happen.”

  “This is Dan Keith you’re talking to. I know you, remember? Sorry. Your eleventh-hour conversion fails to convince.”

  “Daniel, I know where the last verse of ‘Caravan’ came from now. And it wasn’t a lie.”

  That slowed him—Keith blinked confusedly. “What do you mean?”

  “Daniel, read my lips: I didn’t do it.”

  A blank stare turned to a hateful glare. “You did it to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They’re not taking me. They’re not taking me, and it’s your goddamned fault. Because of your fucking father. Because I thought friendship fucking counted for something. They’re not taking me, do you understand? Because of you I’ve got to stay here.” The flyer beeped an out-of-lane alarm at Keith, and he slammed his palm against the dash. “Shut up!”

  “What are you talking about? Memphis isn’t going anywhere. And you weren’t going on Memphis in the first place.”

  “Fuck it,” he said sullenly.

  Christopher did not understand what had just happened. “I’m coming back to Houston tomorrow. If you’re in trouble because of me, I want to help.”

  “You, help me?” Keith’s snicker was nasty.

  “I haven’t done anything against the Project. Not one thing,” Christopher said. “But they’ve done to me. They killed my father and stole his body. They took away my job, screwed up my career, and helped me screw up my family—not that I needed much help in that department. And do you know what? I still want them to make it.

  “They were wrong to be afraid of me. I was wrong to duck my tail and run. That’s over. I’m coming back, and I’m going to stand toe-to-toe with Dryke or anyone else I have to until reality sinks in. And if I need to scrap for you at the same time, I will.”

  Keith was silent, his eyes on the road.

  “What’s going on, Daniel? Why are you up at this hour of the morning?”

  When Keith finally spoke again, his voice was muted. “I don’t know why the hell I believe you,” he said. “I must be as big an idiot as they make, I guess.”

  “Sorry. The line forms behind me.”

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you anything,” Keith said, rubbing his cheek roughly. “There isn’t anything you can do to help me. And there won’t be anyone here to talk to by the time you arrive.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re shutting down the training centers. All the small fry are being let go. They’re sending half the talent to Prainha, including me. The other half—four hundred people—is going up to Memphis. They’ve been flying out all night. You can guess why we’re needed in Prainha—they’re shipping people upstairs, too.”

  “Why?”

  Keith turned his head away to the right and drew a ragged breath. “Vincenza told the press that we’re sending technicians and engineers to help with the reconstruction, management to inspect the damage. That’s bullshit. I know the list. It’s the fraternity. And I can’t get anyone to admit it, but I know they’re not coming back.”

  “That’s crazy. Where can they go?”

  Keith’s gaze was faraway and sad. “Tau Ceti.”

  Christopher gaped. “In what?”

  “You really don’t know, do you?” Keith said, turning back. “Memphis isn’t hurt. Not that badly. But they’re not going to take any more chances. They’re going to move her. Everyone knows that. The only question is how far. I think they’re going to load her up and light her up the first chance they can, and not look back.” His mouth twisted into an acerbic smile. “That’s what I’d do, if I was Sasaki. And she’s at least as bright as I am.”

  His own future vanishing with his friend’s, Christopher found himself hollow and numb. “Why are you going to Prainha?” he asked finally.

  “Because I’m like you. I want them to make it no matter what they do to me,” he said. “I’m almost to the gate, Chris. I can’t stay on.”

  “Wait—how’s the Houston staff getting to Memphis?’”

  “Through Technica, I think. On the big bus. Jesus, Chris, you’re not going to try—you don’t think you’ll get near them, do you?”

  “Why not? How many stowaways on Ur?”

  “Sixteen. Trust me, they all had better plans than this.”

  “Things are going to be crazy on Technica and Memphis both. It’s the last days of Saigon, man. And I think I ought to be able to pass myself off as a Project archie, don’t you?”

  A long hesitation. “No,” Keith said. “Too many people from here know about you and Jeremiah.”

  “Then—”

  “Shut up. The Munich people are going through Horizon,” Keith continued. “You’ll have a better chance there, as a Houston staffer caught away from the center when the orders came through.”

  Christopher had run out of words. “Thanks. You didn’t owe me that.”

  “I know,” Keith said. “I said a better chance. Your chances are still piss-poor. Do me a favor, will you? Try not to let me find out if you make it. I want to be able to think it came out either way, depending on my mood.”

  “Sure,” said Christopher, his throat hot.

  “I’m up. Time to go. Have a life, huh?”

  “I’ll try. Better days—my friend.”

  “Fuck you very much.”

  Christopher didn’t know how long he sat there, wet-eyed and stiff-backed, after the phone blanked. He had prepared himself for a marathon, but the only race open to him was a sprint. Last call, everyone in the blocks. But his feet, like his thoughts, were churning in mud.

  Ready to go?

  Not.

  Gun in the air—

  Wait!

  But the starter paid no heed. The race was on. He had to start moving or walk away, disappear into the tunnel.

  I have to get to Horizon.

  That was almost an executable thought. The missing operand was Deryn. Without her permission or presence, he seemed to be able to do nothing on Sanctuary.

  Where did Deryn say she was going?

  Sanctuary’s infuriating phone net had no way to call persons, only places. He called all eight schools, harangued the net operator, even went to the door and called for her down Summer Corridor. Finally, out of desperation, he called Anna X.

  “McCutcheon,” she said. “Your timing is very good. I was about to send someone for you.”

  “I have to find Deryn. Do you know where she is?”

  “No. Do you remember the way to my Circle Room?”

  “Where we had our meeting? Yes.”

  “Then come here, please. As quickly as you can.”

  “With no escort?”

  “There is a man named Mikhail Dryke in Entry, with several armed and armored friends, suggesting that we turn you over to him. I thought you might like to be involved in the decision.”

  Christopher ran, ignoring the startled stares.

  There were six goons in Entry and who knew how many more on the twenty-four-seat Transorbital shuttle docked to tunnel 2. As near as could be told from the monitors, they were carrying splatterguns and shockboxes, both of which could be safely used inside a pressurized space, though there’d been no shooting so far. In all probability, they also carried enough cutters and shape charges to come through the bulkheads and locked doors which presently contained them.

  Shelter had been emptied and sealed without incident, but two Entry staffers were still at the main desk, keeping Dryke and his men company. They were not exactly hostages, since discussions were still technically polite, with no hard refusals or locked doors yet tested. But the women’s position was tenuous and their presence was a complication.

 
“This is the man who killed your father?” asked Anna X.

  “Yes,” Christopher said, studying the monitor with hard eyes. “Are you going to give me to him?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No,” Christopher said, shaking his head. “I have to get to Horizon.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think he means to allow that.”

  “Have you admitted I’m here?”

  “We are still discussing technical issues—the validity of his police powers, the status of our agreements with Brazil and Kenya, certification of his warrants—”

  “He has warrants this time?”

  “Conspiracy and unlawful flight. Purely ceremonial. This is not a question of law. The paperwork is to keep up appearances. The real warrants are his soldiers and the weapons they carry.”

  Someone had found Deryn at last, and she came into the room at that moment. “Dryke,” Christopher said to her, gesturing at the screen.

  Looking up at Dryke and then at Christopher, Deryn sat down beside Anna X on the open end of the bench. “Are you going to surrender Christopher?”

  “I would rather not.”

  It was welcome news to Christopher. But there were others in the room, all of whom had dropped into sullen silence when he arrived. Now one spoke up.

  “Shelter was meant for women, not for cocks,” she said. “Why are we risking our home for him? It’s not our fight.”

  The object of the objection was unmoved. “I would not like it said that either Sanctuary or Anna X can be threatened.”

  “Here come the certifications,” called a woman across the room, looking down at a comsole.

  Anna X did not stir from her seat. “We’ll take some time to study them, I think.”

  “Is there any other way off the station?” asked Christopher.

  “Yes. Two ways. They control the passenger side of the hub, but not the freight side. And there is a small slug freighter there. There are also emergency boats, of course.”

  “Can either reach Horizon?”

  “Either can.”

  “Can either reach Memphis?”

  Several eyebrows went up.

  “No,” Anna X said.

  Christopher looked at the docking monitor. The blue and red Transorbital shuttle was clearly visible, anchored to the slender pylon which projected from Sanctuary like the axle from a bicycle wheel. The white docking tunnel angled up to it from the half-gee Entry ring at a forty-degree angle, like a flight of covered stairs. “Can you keep Dryke from leaving?”

  She nodded slowly, acknowledgment but not encouragement. “Dryke and the men inside, yes. His shuttle, no.” She smiled faintly. “Run, fight, surrender—all three are possible. As you see, none are attractive. Do you have a preference? Or a solution?”

  “Anna,” Deryn said sharply, looking up at the main screen.

  The two women were no longer behind the desk. Two of Dryke’s soldiers had them in hand and were walking them briskly across the floor to the opening of tunnel 2, at the end of which lay Dryke’s shuttle.

  “Idiot,” Anna X muttered. “Trionna—cut the shuttle loose. Seal the lock.”

  On the docking monitor, Christopher saw a smoke-ring puff blow outward from the oval tunnel just a half meter from where it was attached to the shuttle. Between the inner and outer locks, Christopher thought, remembering his own arrival. The tunnel was flexing and shaking in long, wavelike undulations from the jolt and the flying load of the four people inside it. Meanwhile, the shuttle had drifted a few meters from the pylon, trailing the stub end of the tunnel from its main port.

  Long moments later, the four reappeared in Entry, the soldiers looking more shaken than the staff. An angry Dryke ordered the women to sit on the floor, their faces to a wall, and then turned toward the nearest camera.

  “Anna X, I assume that you can hear me—”

  Anna X signaled to a technician with her hand. “You’re an impatient man, Mr. Dryke,” she interrupted. “Neither quality is a virtue here.”

  “I want Christopher McCutcheon. It’s a simple thing. You have enough documentation to satisfy any conscience you may have. Are you going to give him to me?”

  “Mr. McCutcheon is not a possession to be given away. He is a person. He petitioned for Shelter, which was granted. And Sanctuary has never given up a Sheltered person on the demand of any authority.”

  “Then you must feel safer than you are,” Dryke answered. “Don’t make this a test of strength. I’m not leaving without him.”

  Anna X’s back was up. “Do you think that Sanctuary is a huddle of helpless women? Do you think—”

  “Is two enough to make a huddle? Because there are two women here with me who don’t seem particularly powerful at the moment. Two citizens of Sanctuary, I suspect—not visitors. I imagine you can play with the pressure and the lights and the heat and maybe even gas the whole section anytime you please. I just think you should know what will happen if you do. How often have you sacrificed Sanctuary citizens for a male criminal? Would you like to put that question to a plebiscite? I’ll be happy to wait.”

  “I know how a community aspiring to your ethics would vote,” Anna X said. “Christopher doesn’t have to fear that from us.”

  But looking at the faces around him, Christopher was less certain than Anna X sounded.

  “Really. There’s only one reason I can think of that’d account for that—”

  “Then you have a sadly stunted imagination.”

  “—which is that he isn’t just a visitor, after all. Maybe he’s a friend. Hell, let’s think creatively—maybe he’s not even a he. What about that, Anna? Things aren’t always what they seem, are they? Should we come take a look in your records under Homeworld? Should we look in them for Jeremiah?”

  “Off,” said Anna X tersely. “Self-important bastard—is the freighter ready?”

  “Yes—on one-minute hold.”

  “We’ll use it as a decoy. Send it toward Hanif. Then prepare boat 5 for launch to Horizon—”

  “No,” Christopher said, stepping forward. “Stop.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “He won’t send the shuttle after the freighter. He’ll destroy it if he has a way. And he’ll have a way. He won’t have come up here without being ready to deal with me if I ran.”

  “I don’t want to give you to him.”

  “He doesn’t want that, either. I only just realized.”

  “Explain.”

  “I think he wants an excuse to come in here. He’d rather have a chance to ‘accidentally’ kill me, with pawing through your records as a bonus. That’s why he’s baiting you. This isn’t a negotiation.”

  “Have you a suggestion? Or a choice?”

  “We’re dealing with the wrong person.”

  “Explain.”

  “It would take too long. Let me talk to Dryke. I think I can get us better terms.”

  She studied him skeptically, then vacated her seat for him, standing off to one side. “Are you ready?” He nodded. She stepped back, out of camera, and gave the signal.

  Dryke had been having his own side conversation. When he looked up, a mild flicker of surprise crossed his face. “So you are here, after all,” he said.

  “Shut up,” Christopher said. “I want to talk to the Director. Conference, three-way, full video. You, me, and her. You can arrange it, or we can put out the call on Aurora Freenet, all hundred thousand watts’ worth.” He saw Anna X’s eyes widen. “You decide. Thirty seconds.”

  “No.”

  “Bad choice. Because if I don’t talk to Sasaki, Freenet is going to start broadcasting everything we know about the Chi Sequence and Memphis. Which is quite a lot.”

  Dryke’s expression did not change. “What the hell is that to me? Just come out, McCutcheon. It’ll be a lot easier to clean up around here if you do.”

  Christopher tried to keep the surprise off his face. Dryke didn’t know. Dryke doesn’t know. For just that m
oment, Christopher’s confidence wavered. Mother of Gaea, if I’m wrong—

  “You’d better check with the Director and see if she cares,” he said weakly.

  “I’m not playing the game, McCutcheon. You’ve got nothing to bargain with.”

  “You’re a chump, Dryke, d’you know that? A first-class no-brain chump. You don’t know what this is all about. You don’t know what you’re defending. You don’t even know what you’re fighting.”

  “You’re not earning any points, McCutcheon.”

  “You couldn’t keep count if I was,” Christopher said. “The hell with you. We’re taking it to the air.”

  “We’re already on the air,” Anna X said.

  Christopher shot her a surprised sideways glance, and then a pleased smile. “My name is Christopher McCutcheon,” he said, looking straight into the camera. “My father was Jeremiah, of the Homeworld. The first reason that I’m here is to tell you that he’s dead.”

  He swallowed, dropped his eyes for a moment, and then drew in a breath to proceed. “He’s dead now, but I’m still learning from what he taught me. You have something to learn, too. That’s the other reason I’m here—to tell you a story. It’s a story about a great river and the animals who explored it. The river is called Time and Destiny and God. The animals have many names, including Man.

  “So you’re part of the story, and so am I. It’s a story about where we came from and where we’re going. It’s all of our stories, from before the beginning of history, all wrapped in one. Because it’s the story of who we are. Some of you won’t like the ending—I’ll warn you about that now—”

  “Christopher?” interrupted one of the women. “Someone heard you. It’s Hiroko Sasaki.”

  “Switch,” he said. “Director? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, Christopher. I hope you can hear me, as well. Mikhail, are you listening?”

  “Here, Director.” From his expression, he was eating his face off from the inside.

  “Very well. Christopher, what is it that you want?”

  “I want to see you. I want the truth about the Chi Sequence and Memphis.”

  “Nothing more?”

  His chest rose and fell with several breaths before he knew his answer. “There’s more, but it will keep until I see you.”