The Third Claw of God

by Adam-Troy Castro

  “Thank you,” I said, with dripping sincerity. “Because it’s really become important to me that we get along.”

  “Thank you. I feel the same way.”

  “That’s good, because you’ve impressed me so much with your vivacity that when—not if, but when—we reach Xana, I’d like you to take some time off and stay with my companions and me. We’d like you to be our personal valet.”

  Never had eyes been so bright, or a smile so ingenuous. “I’d like that.”

  Skye began to see it, realization just beginning to turn her own amiable expression into the beginnings of a scowl. “You do understand, this invitation means you’d be sharing our bed.”

  Now Colette seemed incandescent with happiness. “Oh, of course.”

  I said, “It also means that you’ll make yourself available whenever we wanted you. You know that this is important business we have with Mr. Bettelhine. There are times when we’d have to leave to tend to important company matters, and might not be back for weeks. You’d have to confine yourself to whatever quarters we’re assigned, occupying yourself however you can until we get around to making our way back. During this time you’d also have to refrain from any contact with your own friends or family. That is, if you have any friends and family. This situation might last, oh, I don’t know, a year or two. Maybe three. Do you have any problems with that, Colette? Any problems at all?”

  She said, “Not as long as it was cleared with my Bettelhine sponsor.”

  “Which Bettelhine is that?”

  “Magnus.”

  “We haven’t heard of that one.”

  “He’s one of the uncles,” Colette explained. “He’s a much younger brother of Hans. Not much older than Philip really.”

  “Uh-huh. And he’s the one who hired you?”

  “Yes, Counselor. He’s the one who gave me this opportunity. I wouldn’t want to be unavailable for him if he needed me for a trip up to Layabout.”

  “Yes,” I said, with a pleasant twinkle, “I’m beginning to understand how your orbital station got its name.”

  Colette tittered, the fingertips fanning her lips again.

  Skye, who was beginning to look ill, said, “Where did he find you?”

  The bartender crossed her legs, arching her back to emphasize the curve of her breasts, her entire manner now more about flaunting her sensuality. Even her voice had become throatier, more of a seductive whisper. “I was one of the researchers at a Bettelhine facility in the outer system. We were charged with reverse-engineering an intelligent guidance system the Cid developed for the mass-driving planetary defense grid.”

  “Sounds like tough work,” I said, shaking my head at the impossibly complex world of high-level weapons research. “It’s certainly over my head!”

  The haunted Skye managed a version of my own impressed laughter, but there was no amusement in her eyes. “What level of education do you need to merit a position like that?”

  Colette grinned. “I received my second doctorate when I was nineteen.”

  “And when did Magnus meet you?”

  “When I was twenty-five. I’ve always looked younger than I am, and he’s seen to it that I’ve had some rejuvenation treatments since I took this position.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, as Colette did the necessary arithmetic in her head. “Ten years.”

  “Were you involved with anyone when he found you?”

  “I was engaged to be married, Counselor.”

  “What was the lucky guy’s name?”

  “Erik Descansen. He was my lab partner.”

  “Did you ever get married?”

  “We stay in touch. He understands that this is an important assignment. He knows that we’ll see each other again someday.”

  Skye was now covering her mouth with her hand. It was one of the occasional drawbacks of having two minds in one: twice as much empathy. Get past their horror filters and they feel it twice as much as anybody else.

  I, on the other hand, pride myself in my ability to play cold bitch, and hadn’t allowed my predatory smile to waver a millimeter. “So let’s review, shall we? It’s been ten years since you voluntarily abandoned your education, your research career, your fiancé Erik, and your plans for your future to work full-time aboard the Royal Carriage as Magnus Bettelhine’s bartender and concubine, where you will if requested also make yourself physically available for the sexual entertainment of any other guest who wants you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Arturo Mendez was recruited from a beach resort, the closest thing to the homeworld he’d been missing his entire life, to serve as ‘companion’ to a ‘lonely,’ elderly Bettelhine named Conrad. Was making himself sexually available to Conrad among the terms of his employment?”

  “Oh, yes. I remember Conrad. He was a kind and generous man. And he loved Arturo so much. He died a while back. Arturo still mourns him.”

  “I seem to remember Arturo expressing a personal preference for women. Is he bisexual?”

  “Not in his private life. But Conrad was Inner Family.”

  I pressed further. “What about your fellow stewards, Paakth-Doy and Loyal Jeck? Are they also expected to perform a similar range of duties?”

  “Loyal was once a favorite of a Bettelhine cousin Melinda. Melinda fell out of favor and hasn’t been aboard for a couple of years. He doesn’t talk much; I think she liked the silent type, and he misses her. I don’t know about Paakth-Doy. She’s an emergency replacement, and hasn’t attracted anybody’s attention yet.”

  “But if she impresses somebody,” I said, “she’ll be given a permanent assignment?”

  Skye muttered, “Not if I have a single fucking thing to say about it.”

  Colette’s fixed smile wavered only a little as she turned her attention to the passenger who had just shown anger without warning. “Is there a problem?”

  “Never mind,” I said. “Come here. There’s something I want to do.”

  She stood and approached me, stopping when she was closer than she truly had to be. Sitting as I was, I found myself looking up at her breasts. They were firm, impressive, and likely, at least in part, artificial. From my position underneath those curves I could have slipped my arms around her, and pulled her toward me, had that been what I wanted. Instead, showing a sudden anger I did not need to work very hard to summon, I stood and slapped her cheek with a force that made Skye wince from sympathetic pain.

  Colette’s reaction was more puzzlement than anger or hurt. “Why did you do that, Counselor?”

  “In mathematical terms, I’m affirming the corollary to a proof. Aren’t you angry at me? Don’t you want to hit me back?”

  She did the worst thing she could have done at that moment.

  She tittered again.

  “No. You’re an honored guest.”

  “Oh,” I said, “in that case I forgive you.” And I slapped her again, this time harder than I intended, enough to feel the impact halfway up my arm. I could have hit her again and again, because I wanted to; the only thing that kept me from doing it was the knowledge, so deep inside me that my belly lurched from the weight of it, that if I started I wouldn’t stop until it became an out-and-out beating, more brutal by far than anybody but Bettelhines deserved. “That one’s because I felt like it. If you work for me, it will probably be the first in a very long series. I’m unpredictable that way. It’s what I enjoy. I especially like breaking bones. Will you come to enjoy that, and look forward to it, when we’re all together in our shared quarters, at Hans Bettelhine’s estate?”

  Colette’s eyes had gone dreamy. “I’ve always wanted to visit the main estate. They say it’s beautiful.”

  I slapped her again, but even that was not enough to dispel my disgust at what had been done to her, what she had allowed to be done to her, so I found myself casting about for a fresh outrage, something that would rob her of any dignity that still remained. I snapped, “Would you�
�”

  Skye cried, “That’s enough!”

  It was the angriest cry the Porrinyards had ever directed at me, either as individuals or as linked pair: a sharp burst of pure revulsion that forced me to see myself through their eyes and brought me back from the edge of the abyss.

  I was left blinking, as disgusted by myself as she could have been from what she’d just seen in me.

  When Skye stood, there was a coldness in her eyes I’d never seen there before. “I’m sorry, Andrea. But you’ve made your point.” Then she turned to Colette. “Please go back downstairs, miss. Tell the others we’ll be contacting them again in a few minutes.”

  Colette seemed wholly unable to comprehend why the seduction she still perceived as friendly had just gone so awry. After a moment she said, “All right,” and went to the door, stopping just long enough to cast an eye over her shoulder and said, “It’s all good, Counselor. From where I sit, it’s good to feel happy.”

  The door closed.

  Skye and I stared at each other from across the elegantly appointed room. She opened her mouth as if to say something else, something that might have come out filled with venom. A second passed before she decided to put it off, her reticence more about keeping us both focused on the issue than dismissing the side of me she’d just seen.

  I wanted to go to her, wrap her in my arms, and weep that I wasn’t part of this, that this was Bettelhine corruption, that I was still me. But there was no point, because it would have denied the nature of the problem.

  I was who I’d always been.

  And I had to be fair. Even if this did turn out to be their saturation point, the Porrinyards had already lasted far longer than anybody else could have ever imagined.

  I said, “We’ll talk about this later.”

  Skye nodded and looked away, not quite ready to answer.

  I cleared my throat, and spoke in a voice unexpectedly thick. “In any event, we now know at least part of what Mrs. Pearlman does for them….”

  16

  JASON AND JELAINE

  A ccording to Skye, reporting what she’d seen through Oscin’s eyes, the three Bettelhines were surprised when I had him send them all up.

  They were also disturbed when Oscin specified that the Bettelhines were to come without Monday Brown or Vernon Wethers along to vet their answers and safeguard their interests.

  Brown and Wethers both raised serious objections to that, but then Oscin—acting on a suggestion I’d relayed through Skye—asked, “Aren’t three Bettelhines capable of looking out for themselves?”

  It was about as transparent a gesture of psychological manipulation as any I’d ever attempted. The Bettelhines had to recognize it. But it worked regardless. The Bettelhines ordered Brown and Wethers to stand down, and came upstairs alone and unescorted in what must have felt like the latest leg of a journey with no destination in sight.

  When the siblings arrived in the suite, they chose seats that reflected the uneasy rivalry between two parties. Philip and Jason sat facing each other, Philip wary and Jason wearing a sad mask that may have been either a put-on or a genuine reflection of his regret that things had to be so tense between them. On her own, Jelaine took a seat outside the circle and against the wall, a gesture that did not abdicate her place in this imminent confrontation between brothers so much as provide her strategic control over the battlefield. There were tears at the corners of her eyes, but I couldn’t tell whether they’d been of hope, or sadness, or stress and exhaustion. Nothing about her suggested that she felt she’d lost her control of the situation, not even when she said, “Are you all right, Counselor? You look grimmer than I’ve ever seen you, which is saying a lot.”

  Skye would still not look at me.

  I said, “You’re very perceptive, Jelaine. I am grimmer. You’ve been saying that you want to make friends, but then some of the things I’ve found out about your stinking, despicable family in the last few hours have made me even more disgusted than I was when I only knew you as abstractions.”

  The knowing smile never left her face, nor did the quiet confidence on Jason’s. They continued to present a united front, a stance that had long since ceased to impress me.

  Philip, who had indicated grudging respect for me in some of our more recent conversations, now flashed fresh anger. “Watch it, Counselor. We’ve given you license up until now, but it isn’t unlimited.”

  I charged him with a speed that made him flinch and stopped only when we faced each other from across a gulf of inches. “You should be. If I had my way the lot of you would be lined up on the side of the road and confronted, one at a time, by an endless parade of everybody you’ve ever hurt. You’d get one fifteen-minute break every hour to wipe the spit off your face, but only so the next hundred people in line could enjoy an unsullied target. Do you see the look in my eyes, Philip? It’s what I think of your goddamned irrelevant license.”

  As taken aback as he was by my fury, he still recovered quickly. “And you, Counselor? How long would your parade be? And have you accomplished a damn thing in all the hours we’ve given you, or are you still just running in circles?”

  I held his challenging stare for several seconds, backing off only because I felt unbearably tired. It was not just physical weariness, or the metabolic crash that always hits a day or so after a long journey in Intersleep, but a deep, soul-sick weariness, of the sort that comes from too much immersion in Mankind’s talent for corruption. “I’ve accomplished more than you think, sir. In fact, as soon as we’re done here, I’m going to gather everybody together and tell you who killed the Khaajiir.”

  The announcement had the effect I’d expected. Jason and Jelaine remained impassively pleasant. Philip started, glanced at them, then turned back to me. “Why not tell us now?”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Because if it was just a matter of pointing my finger at one murderer, I would have done so already. But you people have made a much bigger mess than that. Indeed, I suspect that once I name the name, we might find ourselves fighting for our lives.”

  He weighed my expression for signs that I was kidding, found none, and said, “But if you get the murderer—”

  I rolled my eyes. “The one murderer. The individual who put the Claw of God on the Khaajiir’s back. That one I can name, with something approaching certainty. But hasn’t it long since become clear to you, sir, that this is much larger and much more complex than that? After all, we’re facing a conspiracy capable of obtaining and smuggling exotic weapons, enlisting assassins from other worlds, sabotaging this elevator, and interfering with the priorities of those we would otherwise expect to rescue us. It may involve the cooperation of hundreds or possibly even thousands by the time you’re finished counting, and any ability I might have to provide you with one name out of all that many fails to account for how many others aboard might be sharing at least some responsibility for our predicament.”

  Philip shook his head as if mere denial could will the facts out of existence. “But none of these people—”

  “Please, sir. Refrain from mentioning the ones you know to be loyal, or from telling me why you believe a conspiracy on that scale to be impossible. I know why you consider it impossible, and as I intend to prove in a few minutes, loyalty’s the very nature of your problem. You may think you control these people, but you’ve allowed somebody else to take the reins.”

  That took a second to sink in, but when it did, he rose, his face pink, and his eyes turning into little circles. “You know about—”

  “Ever since you’ve gotten your hands on the technology, you’ve treated your key people the same way Magrison treated the innocent young woman who became Dina Pearlman. The technology isn’t exactly the same—if it was, then every affected individual would sport the same kind of chip Mrs. Pearlman wears—but the effect is. You put governors on their minds, making sure they define contentment as loyalty and obedience to you.”

  There was a moment of shamed silence.

&nb
sp; Jason said, “You’re right, of course. It’s exactly as shameful as you say, but Mrs. Pearlman perfected the current system, involving nanite manipulation of the pleasure centers, in my grandfather’s time. But how did you figure it out?”

  I answered him without taking my eyes off Philip. “That was downright easy, compared to some elements of the messy business. I was willing to believe people like Monday Brown and Vernon Wethers forgoing personal lives in exchange for proximity to power; there have always been people like them, in every generation. Arturo bothered me, though; he formed his values and his ambitions somewhere else, and he still jumped at the chance to serve you inside this tin box for years on end, when everything else about his life story indicated a passionate longing for a life near the ocean. It was also suspicious that your family would get its hands on somebody like Dina Pearlman without investigating, and if necessary reverse-engineering the technology that allowed the beast Magrison to command her unconditional loyalty. And even more so when she referenced unspecified ‘other means’ used to control Farley’s vile compulsions.” Still looming over Philip, I swiveled my head and focused my anger on Jason. “But it all came together when Arturo was suiting up for his trip outside the elevator, and you told him, quote, ‘You may think you owe us your allegiance, but you don’t. We forged that debt. Do you understand? It’s all us.’ That’s when I saw what you bastards had done to him and by extension all of these other poor souls who work for you. They’re leashed.”

  “Get out of my face,” Philip said.

  I glanced at him, as if reminded of his existence, then backed off, giving them all a chance to decide who wanted to offer justifications first.

  Jelaine brushed a strand of golden hair away from eyes that had not grown one iota less warm or compassionate during the hostile exchanges of the past few minutes. When she spoke, her voice was mild, her tone entirely free of facile self-justification. “Not all of us approve of the governors, Counselor. Some of us loathe the very idea of them. It’s the main reason my brother and I operate without personal aides, as we told you. We prefer to earn the loyalty of those who work for us.”