Science Fiction: The Best of the Year, 2006 Edition

by Rich Horton

  Sabor activated a high-level search alter and put it to work. So far he had only heard from one other member of the four. Ar Badov had responded with a brief text message—I will give your efforts my complete support. Don't let us down. Ar Badov had been the first banker on the planet. He and Sabor had been locked in an intense, highly personal rivalry from the moment Ar had learned that a scion of the Haveri family had set up shop on his planet.

  The fourth power center in the financial system was controlled by a remote, almost reclusive woman named Zara Nev. It had been three hours since Sabor had advised her Heinrich and Ar had joined the fray—almost seven hours since Zara had received his first invitation.

  The research alter presented him with a report twelve minutes after it started burrowing through the databanks. Zara had buried her machinations in a transaction network that included three other deals. It was a perfunctory attempt at camouflage by the standards maintained by Sabor and his colleagues.

  "I would consider that an unequivocal negative response to my appeal for help,” Sabor said. “She hasn't sent me an outright rejection but she's only made a token effort to hide her support for our respected opponent."

  "There's nothing unequivocal about the pool of capital she's placed at Possessor Khan's disposal,” Purvali said. “He can hire one hundred manunits at Colonel Jina's standard price—two full squads for over four days, with one fully loaded airship."

  They were riding into a broad, heavily forested area that stretched between two major rivers. Sabor had asked his display for a random course and it had angled them fifteen degrees southward, toward the hills that bordered the Ratagava River. The widemounts plodded through the forest undergrowth at a steady eight kilometers per hour. Once every hour they stopped for fifteen minutes and foraged. The widemounts had been equipped with intestinal addons that could convert the planetary vegetation into digestible molecules but it was an inefficient process. They needed forty percent more food, by weight, than they would have consumed if they had been processing terrestrial food stocks.

  The humans stayed inside their carriers while the widemounts stuffed bushes and leaves into their mouths. Eight guard cats patrolled the area that surrounded them. Choy received the transmissions from their implants and rotated part of his attention from cat to cat.

  The forest had slipped into darkness by the time they made their second stop. The cats refueled on meat produced by the fabricators and Sabor took Choy's advice and let the animals rest for a full hour. He had already decided they would keep moving for another three hours.

  They were assuming Colonel Jina would probably mount his pursuit force on an airship. The planetary helicopter population had slipped past the two hundred mark but an airship was almost as fast and it could creep along under solar power if it slipped beyond its normal range and exhausted its batteries. According to Purvali's analysis, every hour they traveled could add thirty minutes to the time an airship would eat up looking for them if it used an optimum search pattern.

  The exploration of the databanks was almost as tedious as their step-by-step progress through the night. Purvali couldn't hop on a promising lead and pursue it through a continuous give-and-take with the public information system. Her transmissions to the communications satellites had to be bundled into blips and randomly spaced several minutes apart.

  "So far,” Purvali said, “Possessor Khan's military expenditures look like they offer the most promise. He's taking on two opponents at once—you and Possessor Dobryani."

  Her report hopped to a map marked with data labels. Kenzan was renting fifty soldiers that belonged to Possessor Makajida—the possessor who owned a tract on Kenzan's northern border. The fifty extra soldiers had been allocated to the force he had deployed against Dobryani.

  "He needs those soldiers,” Purvali said. “And Heinrich Dobble is the dominant figure in Possessor Makajida's financial affairs. Possessor Makajida has five active credit arrangements and he's restructured his debt six times in the last eleven years. Heinrich Dobble funded two thirds of the direct loans in four of the credit arrangements and he was a pivotal participant in five restructurings, once you do a little digging."

  "So I say a few words to Heinrich, Heinrich says a few words to Makajida, and we both let my lady Dobryani know she can ravage Kenzan's holdings as soon as he loses control of Makajida's fifty warriors."

  "It had occurred to me that might be one possibility...."

  "I think I would prefer something a bit less obvious. I suspect my good friend Heinrich would, too. Is there any somewhat subtler method we can use to persuade Possessor Makajida he should reclaim his property?"

  "Do you have any suggestions?"

  "I'd like to leave it to your creative talents for the time being. I will then apply the all-important finishing touches, as usual."

  The security system awoke them twice during the night. The first time a flock of nocturnal birds assumed a formation that bore a vague resemblance to a tree-skimming airship. The second time six flightless predators approached the northern perimeter and indicated they might not retreat when three of the guard cats converged on them.

  Sabor had contemplated a visit to Purvali's carrier while he had been savoring the after taste of the sauces he had chosen for his evening meal. He toyed with the idea as he stared into the darkness after both disruptions. And decided, each time, that he should accept the realities of his situation and activate his sleep control program. He was fighting a war. He would remain in warrior mode until he eliminated Kenzan Khan.

  They started moving as soon as the morning sun glowed through the highest leaves. Sabor indulged in quick catnaps during their first legs but he made Purvali sleep a full two hours extra. He received his reward ten minutes after she finished her morning rituals.

  "Possessor Makajida has a border rival, too,” Purvali said. “Possessor Avaming. They've been feuding ever since Possessor Avaming occupied a slice of the lakefront that Possessor Makajida had planned to claim. Possessor Avaming has been a good customer but he's just as spendthrift as most of his peers. I suspect he might be induced to threaten Possessor Makajida if you offered him a satisfactory incentive."

  "And Makajida would then feel he had to recall his fifty soldiers. And there would be no indication Heinrich had anything to do with it."

  "The effect on Kenzan Khan could be devastating. I've been looking at his relationship with Possessor Dobryani. There is nothing shallow about their enmity."

  "Do you have any theories on the source of their acrimony?"

  "Their attitudes toward the opposite sex appear to be mutually contradictory. They each seem to favor the total submission of their sexual partners."

  Sabor nodded. “I've had similar thoughts every time I've heard him attack her. There are times when he's so rabid he sounds like he's indulging in self-satire."

  "I think there's a very high probability she would seize the opportunity to destroy him if it became available."

  Sabor's widemount sloshed across a pebbly stream. On his right, one of the guardcats took the obstacle in a low, stretched-out leap, with its forepaws pulled tight against its chest and its rear legs trailing behind it. Startled waterbirds surrounded the cat with an explosion of flapping wings.

  "Possessor Avaming isn't going to respond to a bribe,” Sabor said. “He takes great pride in his aristocratic indifference to material gain."

  "Shall I consider that a rigid limitation?"

  "It would probably be wise."

  "I can see three possibilities. Possessor Avaming's payments to architects and landscapers during the last ten years equal sixty-two percent of his total debt. They started declining about four years ago and he started buying musical instruments and hiring musicians. In the last year, he's started spending money on water hunting."

  "He's obviously a prime example of a serial enthusiast. I suspect you'll find water hunting will present the most promising opportunities at this moment."

  Purvali cut the connectio
n and Sabor turned part of his attention to the input from a camera that watched his rear. The steady fallout from the trees had degraded the transparency of Purvali's carrier, in spite of the unbroken efforts of the cleaning moles, but he could still watch her work. He had never understood why men like Kenzan Khan preferred women with limited abilities. Purvali was a delight in every situation he normally shared with her but she could seem achingly—hauntingly—beautiful when her face was shaped by the total concentration she focused on her work. Many people sank into slack-faced stupors when they stared at the displays their implants transmitted to their optic nerves. Purvali looked as taut as a hunting animal.

  Choy was his usual loose-jointed self. Judging by the way his hands were moving, he was probably participating in a simulated unarmed combat spree while he monitored the security system. He had started chopping and blocking when they had finished the last feeding stop. He was still pummeling the air when they lumbered into the last kilometer that lay between them and the point the information system had chosen for their next stop.

  "Twelve years ago,” Purvali said, “Possessor Avaming was loading the databanks with descriptions of his buildings and re-modelings. Six years ago he had thirty musicians on his payroll and he was bombarding his friends with invitations to concerts. Now he's started spending whole tendays racing up and down the lake pursuing the larger members of the yellow-feathered swordbeak population."

  This time Purvali had assembled a concise formal report. Option One revolved around a new prey animal—a faster, sleeker version of the yellow-feathered swordbeak. The hunting fanatics had placed a few samples of the upgrade in the lake and they wanted to triple the number. Most of the other people with an interest in the lake had registered their opposition—on the very solid grounds that the increase would tip the competitive balance in favor of the enhanced swordbeaks, with the usual unpredictable consequences for the aquatic ecosystem. Avaming had joined the campaign to overcome the opposition but he was still a novice. If Sabor could help him arrange a victory, his status would take a substantial leap.

  Sabor shook his head. He could offer Avaming a financial subsidy that would overwhelm the opposition. It wouldn't be the first time he had financed a little opinion engineering. But it would plunge him into a political situation that was just as unpredictable as the ecological effects.

  Option Two was another play on Avaming's appetite for social status. Killing was only a part of the sport. To win the full admiration of your colleagues, you had to ride and slaughter with impeccable style. Avaming had bought the most expensive performance implants on the market, but the programs he had planted in his nervous system could only take him so far. To reach the highest levels of the sport, he needed a coach—someone who could teach him all the accepted nuances of true deportment.

  "He's demonstrated he has an above average drive for social status every time he's surrendered to a new enthusiasm,” Purvali argued. “His music mania included a series of private concerts that became some of the most sought-after invitations on the planet. Now he's applied to the hunting coach everybody wants. And she's treated him just like any other novice and put him on the bottom of her waiting list."

  Sabor scanned Purvali's profile of the coach. He tipped back his head and stared at the light at the top of the forest.

  "I believe it's time we committed to a higher risk level,” Sabor said. “There are certain kinds of communication that simply can't be compressed into blips."

  "It will take Colonel Jina's technicians about seventeen minutes to locate us,” Purvali said. “We're now about three hours by airship from Colonel Jina's hangars. I can't find any indication they've positioned an airship in a closer location."

  The coach's welcomer had been costumed in the kind of understated, scrupulously draped shirts Sabor's mother had favored. It had been shaped by one of the best known designers on the planet—a hard working stylist with several hundred thousand high earning yuris on deposit in Sabor's databanks. The coach would return Honored Sabor's call in approximately twenty minutes, the image informed him. The coach was Working with a Student.

  The coach didn't list her fees in the databanks but Purvali had researched her life style and produced a reasonable estimate of her income. Sabor had decided a hundred thousand yuris would probably win him a fast acceptance. He raised his estimate by fifty thousand when he saw the designer's logo floating in the lower left of the display—and reduced it by twenty-five when the coach returned his call fifteen seconds after his system reminded him the twenty minutes had come to an end.

  "I'd like to offer one of my better customers an impressive gift,” Sabor said. “I'm prepared to pay a substantial fee."

  He switched his display to a forty-five second recording of Avaming on seal back. “I'm no connoisseur of these things, but it seems to me Possessor Avaming may have some natural talent, in addition to his obvious enthusiasm."

  The coach nodded and looked suitably thoughtful. “It's hard to make a proper evaluation from recordings, of course. I always evaluate my prospective students in person."

  "I understand. I can offer you a hundred thousand yuris for your trouble. I'll be happy to transfer the whole amount in advance of your evaluation."

  A familiar look flicked across the coach's face. She restored her air of cool indifference with a speed that made Sabor feel grateful he hadn't tried to offer her a few thousand less. “I should advise you Possessor Avaming has acquired several of the less obvious bad habits,” the coach said. “He will have to demonstrate he is willing to relearn the basics."

  An oversize text message from Purvali preempted the space next to the coach's head. Your transmission is being examined. I can't defend it without interfering with your conversation.

  "I'm confident Possessor Avaming will welcome the opportunity to be evaluated by someone of your stature,” Sabor said.

  "Then you have my permission to tell him I can schedule an evaluation within the next three or four days."

  Purvali replaced the coach the moment he terminated the call. “Colonel Jina seems to be making an all out effort,” Purvali said. “I think we should assume he has us located."

  "I wrapped that up in thirteen minutes!"

  "They identified the call faster than I thought they would. They may have gotten lucky. But I'd feel better if we acted on the assumption they're making an extra effort."

  "Do you have any information on Avaming's whereabouts? Is there any danger I'll be calling him while he's indulging in a sybaritic lunch?"

  "Possessor Avaming is currently riding with the Benjori Hunt. He's been riding with them every fourthday since he first started hunting. The hunt left the dock about half an hour ago. I'm looking at the Recording Secretary's log. The hound seals are tracking a swordbeak that just went below for the first time."

  Sabor added the secretary's log to his display. He was looking at the same view the hunters were receiving—a real-time composite created from the sensors in the hunters’ water suits. A direct transmission from the hunters’ optic nerves would have presented him with a useless image of murky lake water. The composite transformed the darkness into a vision of hunters and hound seals slipping through water that was so clear they could have been sailing across a cloudless sky.

  "The average chase lasts about an hour,” Purvali said.

  "And then there's the traditional social rituals after the return to the dock. I should be able to call him in about three hours, right?"

  "Yes. There's a hunt lunch followed by a ceremonial closure."

  "Then I suppose I may as well tend to a few business matters."

  "Can you limit your efforts to activities that don't require long transmissions?"

  "I'll pull in one last download and settle for whatever distraction it can offer me."

  The hunting seals sped through the waters in a portion of his display he located on the upper left quarter of his vision field. On the upper right quarter, images and numbers updated the situation
on the north shore power delivery project. The trees and the incessant movement of the bird life provided an odd, clashing backdrop for both halves.

  Five hundred thousand human beings now lived on Fernheim. In theory, they didn't need any kind of centralized power system. In theory, they could have fulfilled all their needs with the solar power panels that roofed most of their homes. The panels would have powered their fabricators and their fabricators would have provided them with all the essentials a rational human could possibly need.

  In practice, of course, very few people were satisfied with the basics. In the average Fernheim household, the fabricators were sucking up energy five times faster than the average solar installation could supply it. The champagne Sabor had stocked in his carrier would have used up several days of the average individual's solar consumption. A proper standard of living, by most people's standards, required a proper energy infrastructure, complete with large-scale hydrogen-fusion reactors, orbiting power satellites, and all the other sources of energy human ingenuity had developed.

  And, of course, a network of cables and wires that would deliver the energy to all the needy individuals who would be reduced to champagne-deprived poverty without it. In some societies the network would have been constructed by a government. On Fernheim, so far, nobody seemed to be interested in the tedious bickering—or outright violence—that normally preceded the establishment of a central government. The North Shore Energy Matrix was an exercise in long term speculation. Ninety percent of the people in the lake community—forty-five percent of the population of the planet—lived on the south shore. The entrepreneurs behind the north shore project were assuming a power network would pull new arrivals and restless current residents to the unterrestrialized wilderness on the other side of the lake. The profits would come tomorrow, the big expenditures had to be paid today. Obviously, a competent, upright scion of a famous banking family had to wave his wand and place the necessary numbers in the appropriate accounts. And watch every move the North Shore Development Association made. In exactly the same way his mother would have.