“Should we be able to determine the identity of any true malefactor, of course, and should the Emperor concur, we would take the necessary steps to resolve the problem.”
Again Admiral Thurson nodded, not bothering to wipe the dampness off his forehead.
“Are there any other questions? Any other matters to be brought before the Council?” Eye paused. “If not, the formal meeting is adjourned. I might also add that since Admiral Thurson’s retirement will become effective before the next meeting, we all wish him well.”
Eye stood.
Thurson managed to keep his jaw from falling open in the quiet hissing of whispers that circled the conference room.
“Just promoted to Vice Admiral . . .”
“. . . never announced it . . .”
“. . . really hot, whatever it was . . . poor bastard . . . likely to be found dead of heart failure within weeks. . .”
“. . . why you never ask questions . . .”
Eye strode out, flanked by his regents, and the Service officers clustered around Thurson, who had taken out a large white cloth and was wiping his forehead, despite the chill that remained in the room.
LXIII
HIS FACE WAS as always, the same blond, curly hair, hawk-yellow eyes, although the image was frozen on the screen.
The Senior Port Captain of Ydris glanced at the image, then at the contract on the console, then at her own work sheet on the third screen.
“Aboveboard and foul in the dirtiest way possible, Corso! You devil!”
She smiled in both wry admiration and humor.
The ex-Imperial officer she called Corso had her caught squarely by her own ideals, and those of Ydris.
If she failed to recommend his offer, then the communications system he had developed would become the tool of the commercial interests and eventually would sell out to the highest bidder, no mat-ter how noble the initial purpose. That such a bidder would use the system against Ydris was also inevitable.
If she endorsed his proposal, then Ydris would inevitably become an information and commercial hub second only to New Augusta. Even there, Corso had calculated cleverly. The distance was great enough that New Augusta would gain more than it would lose—at least for decades.
His motivation—that was what bothered her. Why would anyone go to the tremendous effort and expense of acquiring the equipment, developing detailed operating plans, and obtaining the necessary permissions for the key systems . . . and then turn it over to someone else?
He’d offered a clear explanation, right on the databloc.
“Isbel. You’re going to ask why. Answer is simple. I need an interstellar communications system I can trust, one independent of the Empire, and one that will maintain confidentiality.
“I can afford to build it. What I can’t afford is the time and dedicated people to run it. And I need someone whose ideals will prevent them from corrupting it. That’s you and Ydris.”
Should she trust hire? Could she afford not to?
She smiled wryly and touched the stud that would forward the proposition to the Council. Her recommendation to accept was attached.
The Council would accept it. Like her. Ydris could not afford to decline, could not afford to pass up the chance to control her own destiny.
Still . . . she wondered why the mysterious man known only as Corso was willing to find such an altruistic enterprise, only for a minute return on his investment and years before arty repayment of the principal was due.
LXIV
“BUT I CAN’T be!” protested the woman. “I can’t be.”
“It is not a matter of debate, milady,” answered the physician as he looked back at the console. “Contraceptive implant failure is rare, to be sure, but not unheard of.”
“Have you reported this to my father?”
“Of course. You are the only Daeris of this generation. How could I not? He said he already knew.”
“He knew? But how? I’m not one of his brood mares!”
“That, milady, is between you and your father.” The doctor’s eyes were calm and level, as gray as his dark gray hair.
She glanced from one side of the office to the other, idy wondering if she could reach the balcony that overlooked the grounds. Then she shook her head.
Not that way. If worse came to worst, her father could have the heir. At least once it was over he could have no objection to her living her own life, and outside the restricted sphere of a baron’s controlled environment.
She unthinkingly tossed her glittering copper curls back off the cream of her tunic and over her shoulder. Was it already tighter than she remembered?
Despite the controls and the guards, she’d managed to get herself in trouble, and he hadn’t said a word. Not a word, almost as if he’d hoped for it. But he’d known, known before she and the doctor had! How?
She bit her lip.
Her father had known.
What else did he know?
She looked again at the balcony railing, then back at the thin older doctor.
“What about decanting?”
“Your father—“
“Damn his fundamentalist beliefs! Damn him . . . yes, I know . . . Of course, I know . . . how else could it possibly be?”
She glanced again at the balcony.
“Milady . . . ?”
“Yes, Hierot?”
“Is there anything else? Before you go?”
Helene shook her head with a quick motion, a violent, short snap. There was nothing else. Not now. Not ever.
She looked toward the balcony.
LXV
WHEN THE COMMANDER’S—strange how she could never keep from calling him a commander, although he never used the title and had retired from the Service as a commodore—face filled the screen, as soon as the image cleared and went real time, the question was out of her mouth.
“You bought another biologics complex? For what? Do we need another full-scale research facility?”
He closed his mouth, as if he had been about to say something else and had decided against it. He waited.
“Why did you buy it?” she repeated her question.
“I did not buy it. Made the first payment, and obligated you to complete the contract.”
Lyr’s mouth dropped open. “You . . . obligated the foundation, How much?”
“Fifty million?”
“Fifty million? From the Forward Fund?”
“That’s what it’s for.” He frowned. “An acquisition grant, not for research. Production.”
“What does production have to do with promoting biologic research?”
“Read section three, clause five of the foundation goals.”
Lyr worried at her lip, brushed a graying hair off her forehead. When he cited sections of the bylaws, he was invariably right.
“I don’t suppose you would like to tell me why you have involved OERF with production now?”
“Lyr. Someone has to translate research into reality. Done what I can personally. But took the commercial fields, and plowed money back into research, back into the foundation.”
“I know.”
“Hope that some more spin-offs from what the foundation had stimulated would be appearing. They’re not. Not one. Yet I’m making creds. It’s almost as if—“ He laughed once. “Never mind.”
He looked below the screen, then back at her before continuing. “Need certain technologies developed now. No other way to do it. But don’t worry. It’s profitable.”
He grinned. “That’s another problem, I know, but that’s one you can solve.”
“You have such illusions about my abilities.”
“No bitterness, please.” His tone was gentle.
“All right.” Lyr bit back the intemperate comment she had almost launched and frowned at the screen, waiting to see what else he said.
“Is your dream beyond a dream still the same?”
“My what?”
“Once we talked about dreams beyond dreams.
Yours was a chalet on Vers D’Mont. Do you remember?”
“That was in another life, Commander.”
“Another life? Perhaps, but is the dream still your dream?”
“There are days, Commander, when it is even more attractive than it ever was. Why do you ask? Do you really care? Or is it just to humor me?”
His expression tightened, as if her words had been even more
barbed than she had meant.
“I thought you could tell when I was humoring you. Did you ask that . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“You know I have never tried to undermine you—no matter how outrageously you behaved.” This time there was anger in her words. “You never let anyone know how you feel. You make me guess what you really want, and once in awhile I even get a pat on the head.” She paused, but not enough to let him speak. “More likely, you tell me to give myself a pat on the head.”
Surprisingly, he only nodded. “You’re right, Lyr. Not too much I can say that will rebut that.”
“Don’t you ever get angry? Don’t you ever get hurt?”
“Yes. I do get angry, and I have been hurt, and I will be again, no doubt.” The gentleness in his voice disarmed her own lingering anger.
“When?” There was more curiosity than steel in her tone.
He sighed. “Rather not go into details. Let’s just say that I’ve buried two sons, three lovers. Not technically correct, but all five are dead. Some were killed to strike at me, and some were killed when my back was turned.”
“And you can take it that calmly?”
She could see his face harden.
“Quietly. Not calmly. I have thrown my share of thunderbolts, and the guilty and I have both paid. Paid in full. Still paying.”
Lyr shivered as the coldness seemed to rush from the screen and enfold her. She wondered, again, whether his anger was the cold of deep space, the devastating destruction of absolute zero.
“You still make them pay?”
“No. They paid. I still pay. Will with every mile left in life.”
He smiled his grim smile and laughed softly. “But enough of me . . . I asked about you.”
“I’m not sure we’re finished . . . .”
He sighed once more, and the grim smile was replaced with a still sadness, the guarded look of a man willing to take an assault without at-tacking in return or raising a defense. Lyr did not recall ever having seen that expression, the weariness in his eyes, or the sudden vulnerability.
“What else would you like to know?”
“I don’t know. Except that after all these years, I still feel like I don’t know you. Like you feel all things more intensely than any man should, and yet you show so little. As if what you do is consuming what you are.”
His shoulders gave a small shrug. “You’re probably right about the last. But I warned you about that in the beginning. Told you that I was a fanatic.”
“That doesn’t excuse it.”
“Not trying to excuse it, Lyr. I know what I am.”
“Do you? I wonder.”
He smiled, and the expression was momentarily boyish. “All right. I know at least some of what I am.”
“And what about the rest?”
“Guess I’ll find out.”
This time she was the one to shake her head. “Heaven help us all when you do.”
“Not that bad.” He grinned. “Enough of this somber stuff. Let’s get back to what I asked.”
“What did you ask?”
“If you still had a dream beyond a dream.”
“Some days. Why do you keep asking?”
“Every once in a while I care about people’s dreams, a little more often than they think.”
“I stand reproved. I think.”
“Not reproved. You’re right, but can we leave it at that for now?”
“Why?”
“Because the timing is getting critical. A number of things are coming together, and you’ll probably need more staff, and I’m not sure I can afford much more introspection. Not now.”
“What do you mean?”
“More large purchases, some more acquisitions, that sort of thing.”
“I’m not sure I understand, but you do much more than you’re doing, and I’ll need more staff.”
“Go ahead and add what you need.”
Lyr took a deep breath, feeling as though she had somehow missed more than the quickest glimpse into the commander’s soul.
“What about you?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation back onto a more personal level.
“Probably more travelling. Trying to coordinate. Headed for El Lido next, the way it looks. Not sure past that on the specifics.”
“But what about you?” she asked again.
“I’ll survive. Somehow. Always do. Probably always will. Not much else that I can do.”
“Try to keep in touch, Commander.” She paused, and her voice softened as she finished. “And take care.”
“I will, as I can. Keep doing your best, Lyr. You’re the only one who can keep this end together.”
The screen blanked as her mouth dropped open. She had never expected either the admission of her efforts or the abruptness of his closing, not after the disclosures she had forced from him.
She rubbed her chin. On the other hand, perhaps he had to break the connection quickly. Perhaps he could not afford to become too personal . . . perhaps.
Shaking her head, she cleared the screen.
With his attitude and more purchases like the last, her efforts might not be enough to keep the Empire from digging deep into the foundation, and while the foundation might endure, she wondered about the implications for its trustee—and for its administrator.
LXVI
THE SHADOWED MAN studied the arrangement.
The single guard sat in a shielded riot box set in the wall, swivel set high enough that he could survey the sloping lawn in front of the wall without his eyes being more than a slight angle from the screen that switched from snoop to snoop.
The chair itself was an indicator. Gerswin had watched as the present guard had replaced his predecessor, watched as the seat had lifted slightly when the guard’s weight was removed.
From the shadows he dropped his glasses.
While he would rather have handled it personally, on a face-to-face basis, that was certainly what Carlina was expecting. She had obviously studied his past interactions and was counting on his reputed sense of fair play and direct action with principals.
He shook his head and slipped soundlessly back along the relatively unmonitored pathway he had tracked through the surrounding grounds, back to the flitter.
He took a deep breath as his quick and light steps cleared the unmarked boundary of the estate and as he entered the undeveloped tract where his flitter waited in the small clearing.
After a short flight to a more distant location, he changed craft, from a small black one to a larger black one. Once inside his ship, and seated before the control console, Gerswin touched the communications studs. The picture remained a swirl of color.
He recognized the swirl as a scramble from the receiver, a protective pattern that blocked even his own command access codes. His lips quirked as he waited to see how soon and if the pattern would clear.
Fully two minutes passed before the abstract color patterns resolved themselves into the picture of a silver-haired woman, with a straight, firm nose and violet eyes. Gerswin knew both eye color and nose had been purchased from a high-priced cosmetic surgeon.
Before she had risen to become Administrator of CE, Limited, on El Lido, Carlina D’Aquino had displayed muddy brown hair and eyes, and a much larger and wider nose.
“Shaik Corso! I had not expected you. I thought someone was testing our security system.” Her smile showed the warmth that only years of accomplished insincerity could project.
“I regret the inconvenience, Carlina, but your recent reports have displayed a rather depressing la
ck of profitability, and I thought I might be of some service in assisting a rather rapid recovery.” Gerswin doubted that his smile was nearly as warm as Carlina’s.
“Oh, dear Shaik, you shouldn’t have bothered. I’m afraid there’s little you can do to change that. You know, our overhead has increased so much. You remember all those fancy hidden entrances and gas systems that Delwar had installed—I assume it was Delwar—that led to his replacement? Well, I thought they were really too much of an invitation, and I thought about replacing them. But then I found a few others that even Delwar hadn’t known about, and decided I would never know whether I had ever found them all. So I moved the headquarters, and I turned the old buildings into the administrative center for our latest ventures; and they’re guarded by DomSec.”
“That showed a great deal of initiative, Carlina, especially since you were relying on my good faith.”
“Now that you’re back, Shaik, you could call a meeting, but, you recall, under El Lido law the meeting would have to be held in headquarters unless you could get a two-thirds vote, and to do that you and I would have to agree.”
“That is true, and I might consider that.” Gerswin smiled. “How is Ferinay?”
“Poor Ferinay. He suffered a second and rather unfortunate stroke last month, and the doctors say he will never be quite the same again.
“You have your own successor?”
“I don’t plan on leaving in the near future, particularly since we have just landed the armor contracts for the Ministry of Domestic Security. They helped me with the design of our new headquarters. Did you know that?”
“I can’t say I’m particularly surprised. How did you get around the rule prohibiting contracts with police and armed forces?”
“What provision was that?”
“I think I understand,” Gerswin responded. “And, of course, they believe that the Shaik Corso who founded CE, Limited, might be a fiction, or should remain a silent partner.”
“You do indeed understand. Perhaps a slight improvement in the reported profits might encourage that?”
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