Downtime

by Cynthia Felice

  “Something to eat, sir?” he heard Marmion say.

  Jason looked at the perfectionist, reached for whatever it was he was handing him. It took him a moment to realize he was holding a piece of bread. He chewed tiredly, the bread making his mouth dry. Marmion handed him the flask of fruit juice again, and Jason drank.

  “Better get back,” Jason finally said. “See what Calla has done with what’s-his-name.”

  “Mahdi?”

  Marmion’s voice sounded hollow. Jason tried to get up, found that he could not. “Marmion?” he said. “Marmion, help me up.”

  “It’s all right, sir. Just relax for another minute.”

  “. . . can’t . . .” He couldn’t see Marmion. He couldn’t see anything. “Marmion?”

  ***

  The sun was in his eyes. Jason blinked and tried to open them. The sun was straight overhead. He sat up abruptly and the movement sent pain crashing through his skull. He put his hands to his face and rubbed.

  “Marmion?”

  “Yes?”

  The perfectionist was sitting on the ground, leaning against the kiosk. The sunlight played in brown and yellow amber all around him. “What the hell . . . You drugged me.”

  Marmion said nothing, but he looked very uncomfortable.

  “Why?”

  “Mahdi,” he finally said. “You would have charged him with hunting in the preserve, perhaps even have tried to hold him for trial.”

  “You’re damn right I would. He may be the imperator general, but this is my planet. No one flouts the law here, not even Mahdi. Not you either, mister. You had better tell me who put you up to this before I decide what the charges are. Kidnapping . . . assault. This list will grow every minute you make me wait.”

  “It was Commander Calla, sir. She asked me to . . . detain you until Mahdi left.”

  “Mahdi’s gone?”

  “Yes, sir. His shuttle left hours ago.”

  “And Calla ordered you to drug me?”

  “She didn’t say what action I should take, only that you were not to return to the station before Mahdi left. That much was explicit enough. I did obey orders, sir.”

  Jason sat for a moment, trying to control his rage and fighting the pain in his head. Neither would pass. “Let’s go,” he said, getting up. “Your commander has as much to answer for as you do.”

  Chapter 13

  Calla was already waiting in the sandstone staff room that Mahdi’s entourage had vacated only hours ago, when D’Omaha came in. He walked briskly to the table, no trace of the sleepless night in his gait. Even his face, smooth and glowing, appeared jaunty beneath his mane of silver hair. Like the visitors so recently departed, he’d taken drugs in place of sleep. Calla lifted a mug of coffee to her lips, one of many she had consumed during the long night.

  “Jason’s on his way,” D’Omaha said as he sat down.

  “I know.”

  “Bad business about the danae, worse that it couldn’t be righted with the nymphs, though Jason must have known it was nothing more than a gamble at the onset,” D’Omaha said. “Will he cause trouble?”

  Calla stared at him, momentarily uncertain of what he meant. Then she realized he was referring to the hunting restrictions that Mahdi had broken and she shook her head. “Yesterday he could have caused trouble. Today it doesn’t matter.” She pulled a scarlet jelly bean from her breast pocket and held it up for D’Omaha to see.

  The Praetor frowned and shook his head. “Declaring martial law is too extreme, Calla. We can explain how the accident happened. Marmion may have already done so.”

  Calla slipped the jelly bean back in her pocket. “You don’t understand. I’m going after Mahdi. He’s the traitor.”

  D’Omaha smiled thinly, but his face was coloring. “Are you trying to do my job, Calla? If so, let me point out that you’re doing it badly. Mahdi does not fit the traitor’s profile. He is not decemvir.”

  “He wouldn’t have to be if he were the imperator general.” She looked at him. “Then all he would need is an accomplice who’s decemvir, precisely the sort of complication probability studies don’t deal with very well. But the rest of the profile fits neatly, don’t you think?”

  “Nonsense,” D’Omaha said, his frown deepening until his shaggy silver brows touched. “You’re overtired . . .”

  “Not too tired to know that Mahdi’s using elixir. Even Stairnon couldn’t help noticing how he hasn’t aged.”

  “The clinics can do wonders,” D’Omaha said.

  “Yes, but they can’t perform miracles, to which Stairnon can attest. Mahdi was my commander when I was a cadet, which was more than thirty years ago, yet he hasn’t changed much. And Stairnon was right, too, when she said imperator generals don’t go to downtime worlds. They can’t afford to lose months or years of Hub politics.”

  “Stairnon was making conversation. She was nervous in the presence of the imperator general. She was just trying to be polite.”

  “Stairnon is not nervous in anyone’s presence, and she’s so basically honest she probably didn’t even notice how uncomfortable her comments made Mahdi. And didn’t you think it very peculiar that he would be here at all when worlds are at the verge of war back in the Hub? Unless, of course, his co-conspirator assured him that there would be no major battles until he returned. Only a decemvir could do that, D’Omaha. We knew that much, but we were wrong in believing he acted alone.”

  “It would be possible,” D’Omaha admitted, “but not probable.”

  “I don’t see it that way,” Calla said stubbornly. “We expected a decemvir in person, whose presence here would have the same delaying effect. A unanimous decision cannot be rendered with one of them downtime. But if it’s Mahdi, it’s even more insidious than we believed. The Decemvirate thinks it controls the legions, but Mahdi controls the Decemvirate and the legions, and the Decemvirate doesn’t even know. Mahdi understands power better than they do, and he knows how to use it.”

  “Ramnen Mahdi is not a traitor,” D’Omaha said gravely. “You are as wrong about him as you were about Jason when you believed he could not possibly love you anymore. Probability is not your field.”

  “It doesn’t have to be for me to match the traitor to the profile. He took the inventory of elixir with him. That was the final proof.”

  “He had authentic requisitions, even Marmion agreed that . . .”

  “I would have been disappointed if they were forged. That would make my job too easy.”

  Calla and D’Omaha were glaring at each other when the jelly bean door attendants chimed and said, “Ranger-Governor Jason D’Estelle wishes to join your conference. Shall I let him in?”

  Calla had no difficulty imagining how much translation the jelly beans had done on Jason’s real words, which she was sure were not phrased politely. She had no wish to deal with him when he was angry, especially because it would be a righteous anger and so distracting from the issue at hand. At last she nodded and said, “Let him in, then assure our privacy. No more interruptions.”

  “Yes, Commander.” The door slid back and Jason reached the table in two angry steps. His khakis were dirty with sweet smelling gore, his hair a tangle of curls. Leaning on his fists, he bent over the table toward Calla.

  “I don’t know what in Timekeeper’s hell you thought you were doing by keeping me away from Mahdi, but if you don’t have a red jelly bean in your pocket with orders to take my command from me, you’re going right up on charges with him, Gold Commander.”

  “He’s gone,” D’Omaha said.

  “He can be recalled,” Jason shouted. “And you can be locked up as both their accomplices.” He looked back at Calla, his blue eyes rimmed with red, the muscles in his face twitching. He didn’t have to add that he was dead serious.

  Calla reached into her pocket and placed a red jelly bean on the table between Jason’s fists. He wasn’t surprised. He straightened and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  “Use it, or I’ll call the
guards,” Jason said.

  Calla started to push the jelly bean toward the tank in the middle of the table.

  “Calla, don’t,” D’Omaha said. “We can explain to him.”

  “You won’t have time to explain unless she uses that jelly bean, Praetor,” Jason said. “This is an outback planet. My word is the law here. I can have you shot . . . shoot you myself for what you did. Willful deception. Kidnapping. Disobedience of the ranger-governor’s express orders.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” D’Omaha said.

  But Calla shoved the jelly bean into the tank. When it hit the liquid helium, Jason seemed momentarily jolted, then he turned to the nearest flatscreen. Using the digital controls, he accessed the contents of the red jelly bean. For several minutes, he studied the display on the screen. Calla knew it hadn’t taken him that long to read the message, but that he was using the time to get his anger under control. At last he came back to the table. “Mutare is under martial law,” he said trying to sound formal and calm. “Commander Calla is in charge. I suppose,” he said sitting carefully across from Calla, “that you will not give me permission to recall the imperator general to face charges for shooting danae in the restricted zone.”

  Calla shrugged. “You may do as you choose in that matter,” she said.

  “What?” His knuckles were white, his face drained.

  “I know that you thought I was trying to protect the imperator general from embarrassment when I had Marmion keep you at the Amber Forest. You can’t quite get past believing that I cannot be who I was while I wear gold on my collar, can you?”

  “Why then?” he said.

  “Because I had to give a traitor enough time to betray himself. You might have disturbed it all if you’d confronted Mahdi yesterday.”

  “What traitor? Who has been betrayed, besides me?” Jason said.

  His face was so dark that Calla did not want to look at him.

  “I’m sorry, Jason. I had no time to ask Marmion how he would do it, only to order him to keep you away. He knew why, and that was enough for him. I guess I don’t know what else he could have done,” she said, just now wondering what she would have done if she’d been given Marmion’s orders and was faced with an enraged Jason.

  “I’d have shot him if I hadn’t suspected he was acting on orders,” Jason said.

  “I doubt that you had a weapon,” Calla said. “Marmion isn’t that stupid.”

  He shook his head. “You’re right. I didn’t. All right. Marmion was following orders, and just in case I wasn’t bright enough to know it, he made sure I was in no position to hurt him. You’ve got good people, Calla. They think even while following orders. Now tell me why. Who is this traitor?”

  “There is no traitor,” D’Omaha said. “Not yet. We’re still waiting.”

  “No, he’s been here and gone,” Calla said firmly. “The imperator general is the traitor.”

  D’Omaha leaned forward. “Naming that traitor is my job, the reason I am here. It is not Mahdi.” D’Omaha’s face was red.

  “He requisitioned the entire inventory of elixir.”

  “By the highest authority, Calla,” D’Omaha said sounding exasperated. “There are shortages back in the Hub. You know there are. That requisition was not forged.”

  “Nothing had been done with fake jelly beans. Every single step in this entire plan has been absolutely authentic. And that’s what makes it so insidious. We were so certain that it had to be one of the Decemvirate because nothing was wrong, just . . . unrecorded.” Calla shook her head as she looked at Jason. “We’ve been worried about rebels and moles, but it’s worse than that. Mahdi commands all the legions.”

  “You came here to trap a traitor? This isn’t just a secret installation to keep the Decemvirate and their privileged friends supplied with elixir during the war?” Jason asked.

  “Is that what you thought?” Calla said, disappointed.

  He said lamely, “No. At least not for long. I got to thinking that’s what it might be when I realized it was Mahdi himself who came to see the facility. Imperator generals don’t go downtime to make routine inspections. When it was him, I figured . . .” He shook his head and was silent, studying her closely. “There are some things even you wouldn’t do.” He shook his head again. “Do the legions follow Mahdi?” he asked, his quick mind already catching up. “Or the Decemvirate’s decision?”

  “Mahdi,” Calla said.

  “You’re assuming that Mahdi will not uphold the Decemvirate’s decision, whatever it is.”

  “That’s right. The decision to redistribute was made even before I left,” Calla said. “The Decemvirate was pretending to continue their debates because they foresaw rebellion. They were stalling for time, hoping to stop it before it started. This . . .” Calla gestured to the surrounding walls. “. . . establishment was the first solid clue. It never would have been discovered but for the tiniest oversight-that all requisitions for elixir starter seeds are routinely scanned by one other decemvir. That limited the suspects to five of the decemvir, the newest five who were not involved with the construction of elixir fabrication facilities. Only those five might not know about the double check. The other five selected me to set this trap. They explained the probabilities to me, told me what to expect.”

  “And Mahdi doesn’t fit the profile,” D’Omaha said flatly.

  “What was the profile?” Jason said. The edge of anger was not yet gone from his voice.

  “That the traitor was decemvir. That he would come to Mutare to be certain this secret installation would be up and running, able to supply elixir for the duration of the war in case regular supplies were cut off, which they surely will be. Before leaving, the traitor would probably attempt to bribe Calla or in some way insure her cooperation while the war was on, and short of that the existing supply might be stolen. But Mahdi is not decemvir; he could not have arranged this facility on his own. A decemvir did it, and even Calla admits that it had to be a decemvir.”

  “An accomplice,” Calla said.

  “Bought with what?” D’Omaha said. “Decemviri are entitled to elixir for their entire lives, so it can’t be that. And you of all people know we are well rewarded in other ways during our years of service and beyond.”

  “Some never get enough,” Calla said. “Mahdi’s rich, and he has incredible power. But I served under him once, and I believe that even being imperator general is not enough to satisfy him.”

  “I don’t agree,” D’Omaha said. “You’re blinded by righteous anger because he shot the danae.”

  Calla looked at Jason. He was watching her intently. “Yes, I was angry. But I don’t stop thinking when I’m angry. He took the elixir.”

  “Did he try to bribe you?” D’Omaha asked.

  “Mahdi would not try to bribe me. He knows me, knows about my singularity. He knows I do not like him, that I’ve always seen through him. He bribed someone else. We hadn’t thought of that, not even the brilliant Decemvirate thought of that. Unless it was you, D’Omaha, we’re not going to find out who until it’s very late in his plan. The second traitor has nothing to lose by simply keeping silent. He or she probably has been paid in elixir, which is easily hidden or disguised, and we won’t have enough time to watch for the effects. If Mahdi’s plan succeeds, the traitor will act and if we’re not careful Mahdi will get his continued supply of elixir. If Mahdi fails, who will ever know?”

  “If you’re right, he’d have to kill you, me, D’Omaha, maybe even Marmion.”

  “Unless it is Marmion, in which case there will be only two assassinations. Yours and D’Omaha’s.”

  “You’re invincible?” Jason said sarcastically.

  “I won’t be here.”

  “Why not? You just took command of the whole damn planet,” Jason said gesturing to the jelly bean tank.

  “I let him get away,” Calla said. “And unless I continue to let him get away, we won’t be certain he’s the one. Mahdi’s requisition is perfectly genuine,
as Praetor D’Omaha pointed out. The Decemvirate itself could tell me no differently. They act as one body, even when only one of them executes orders. But if Mahdi’s guilty, he’s going to use that elixir in some unauthorized fashion, or do something else wrong. I intend to follow him and wait until he does.”

  Jason seemed stunned. “You can’t be serious.”

  D’Omaha pushed away from the table. “Talk some sense into her, Jason. I’ve been trying and haven’t gotten anywhere. Mahdi’s not guilty. If she follows him and the real traitor comes, we’ve got nothing to throw after him because she’ll have taken the raiders.”

  “That’s what’s out behind the moon? A raider team?”

  Nodding, D’Omaha stood up. “The Praetorian Raiders. The best. But the only one we have here.” He started for the door. “If you go, I will have to tell the Decemvirate that you would not follow my advice, Calla.”

  “You were sent along to give me advice,” Calla said. “The decision always was mine.”

  Not bothering to conceal his anger, D’Omaha left.

  “So,” Jason said leaning back in his chair. “I was a pawn after all. If your traitor had arrived to find the planet under martial law, he might have become suspicious.”

  “Had I but known it was Mahdi. Mahdi probably would have approved. He has no use for ranger installations. They’re too . . . civilian to suit him.” She smiled a little. “You are too civilized.”

  “Calla, do I know everything now?”

  “I could fill in many details, but essentially yes. You know everything.”

  He leaned across the table and took her hand. “Mahdi is brutal. There have been two deaths already.”

  She looked at him, suddenly remembering Blue-eyes and Tonto.

  “Blue-eyes is dead. Tonto is probably dead, too. The nymphs wouldn’t have anything to do with them. I don’t know why. Maybe they have to be healthy to die in that way. Maybe Arria didn’t know what she was talking about. All I know now is that the man who shot the danae and cut open two living beings to rip out galls is the same man you say you’re going after. I don’t want you to go.”