“I’ll give you a location that matches what you were told. If we can retrieve the chip, that is. Where did you put it?”
“I dropped it out the car window. It’s lucky you revealed yourself when you did, because the next thing I’d have done was drive off.” With sudden apprehension he asked, “I wasn’t wired, was I? Through the shirt I was given to wear?” He couldn’t guess what they’d do if they knew about his message to Bramfield.
“No. We’re not suspicious, we just wanted to be sure you made the contact without being observed. By the way, I’m Arwen.”
“Elrond’s daughter? Really?” Arwen could be her actual name, as it was in common use; but that would be a strange coincidence.
“No, I’m his cousin. They’re screennames, of course, but Elrond uses his all the time with his friends; he doesn’t like his given name.” She smiled at him. “I see you’ve read it.”
“Fellowship of the Ring? Of course; hasn’t everyone?” He’d spoken without thinking—of course relatively few people would have stumbled on the easter egg. “Everyone among our friends, I mean.”
“It’s pretty well hidden; since you haven’t been with us long you might not have found it. How do you think it will end?”
“You mean the last part’s not posted?”
“They never send a whole ebook at once; they want to keep us paying for more.”
He refrained from saying he knew that there were three long books in the story. Arwen appraised him curiously. “Skywalker—I like that. Is it from a book, or did you just pick it because you wish you could reach the sky?”
“There’s a book,” he said, “but mainly it’s from a vid, an old classic on Earth.”
“We don’t get vids—the files would be too long to hide on the servers.”
“Well,” he said, “that depends on how skilled the hacker is.” He was thinking that it would be a good thing to expose the Ciencians to the idea of the Force, a concept that was undoubtedly foreign to them. Maybe the book adaptation would be better than nothing.
Arwen looked down at her tight clothes, embarrassed. “I don’t usually dress like this, you know. I wish I hadn’t had to, Skywalker. I don’t want you to think of me this way.”
“We’ll be seeing each other again, won’t we? At—Rivendell?”
“Sure we will.” She smiled happily. Too late, he sensed what was in her mind, and how she’d interpreted his evident pleasure at the prospect. Oh, God, he thought. He wasn’t attracted to her, not that way. He was a married man deeply in love with his wife. But he couldn’t say so, and how was he to avoid hurting her feelings if this group of people got together often?
“My real name is Nina,” she told him. “Rivendell isn’t a place, it’s more a frame of mind. But I’ll take you to Elrond’s apartment after we recover the chip.”
~ 53 ~
In the weeks that followed, Terry visited Elrond’s apartment many times. There were usually others there, a variety of men and women who were evidently hungry for more forbidden material to read. They were like children, he thought, totally ignorant of what humans normally absorbed from their earliest years onward. They had never heard of fairy tales; they were astonished by speculation about the supernatural; and they knew nothing of religion beyond having been told that it consisted of superstitions the ancients on Earth had fought over. Even the most experienced conspirators were confused by the bits and pieces of texts hidden on the Net, unable to put them in context.
Terry’s biggest problem was discussing these texts without mentioning anything that he obviously could not have learned from them. For the first time, he truly understood what the mentors had meant when they’d said that the collective unconscious of humankind did not extend from world to world. And slowly, he began to see that new ideas could be deliberately put into it. That Maclairn’s plan for adding acceptance of psi to the collective unconscious was no mere vague hope, but a definite possibility.
He continued to make pickups of data chips without trouble, sometimes from Captain Darrow, sometimes from other captains. The first time, Darrow told him that his bracelet had been safely delivered to the starship and that its captain had agreed to deliver it. He had no idea how long it would be before the smugglers reached Earth; they might visit other worlds first. He resolved not to worry about it. The message was on its way to Arthur Bramfield. In time, maybe soon, he would be able to go home.
In the meantime, in his requests for texts he included some of the best nonfiction about psi that he’d researched on Maclairn, carefully confining it to evidence and informed speculation as distinguished from sensational claims or literal interpretations of metaphor. “The human mind has a lot of capabilities the government doesn’t want us to know about,” he said. “The more we can learn about them, the better our chances of someday getting the censorship abolished.”
Elrond stared at him. “Abolished? You mean you think unscientific writings could be made legal, not just passed around in secret?”
“If we can spread a desire for them to enough people, why not? The laws are made by the legislature, after all. They can be changed if the voters demand it.”
“But that would let in all the illogical thinking that contaminated Earth,” someone protested. “It would set history back hundreds of years. It’s one thing for us to entertain ourselves with stories, but some people might take them seriously.”
“They are serious,” Terry declared. “Science is just half of human knowledge. There are other ways of knowing.”
“You said that to me once before,” Elrond recalled. “I couldn’t figure out what you meant. But the characters in the stories so often seem to believe in things they have no scientific proof for—do you really think that happens in real life?”
“Of course it does. Why else are you sure old texts are worth acquiring?”
“You’re sure,” Nina observed thoughtfully, “You talk all the time as if you knew facts nobody could possibly know.”
He couldn’t deny that, but neither could he explain it—and it was not, he realized, just a matter of not being able to explain that he’d been born on Earth. Normal human beings took it for granted that not all knowledge beyond personal experience was derived from science. Some of them believed God spoke to them, or to their forebears. Others were aware that its source was a mystery. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to grow up without any such knowledge.
By this time it had been recognized that Terry was as good or better at hacking than any of the other conspirators and that it was inefficient for him to pick up data chips to be passed to someone else; he now secreted the texts on the Net himself as soon as he got them. Since this eliminated one potentially-dangerous meeting, he had become the primary courier, with others substituting only when he was at work. He was glad that it occupied his time and his mind. It kept him from having to think about having nothing else to live for unless he was rescued. Although for the others’ sake he was careful not to get caught, he personally didn’t care one way or the other, and was therefore considered daring, which was embarrassing since he knew he deserved no credit for it.
His official job became increasingly boring. At the beginning he’d welcomed its numbing effect, but now that his programming skills were being used in a more challenging way, he found the routine of it deadly. And so when one day he was casually browsing the Net’s computer news he noticed a want ad that stood out, he was for a moment excited by it. “Tech assistant needed for neurofeedback clinic,” it said. “Programming experience and ability to maintain electronic equipment required; knowledge of neurofeedback a plus.”
He had more knowledge of neurofeedback than anyone else on the planet, Terry realized. Was it possible that they wouldn’t ask how he’d acquired it? Was neurofeedback something that a Ciencian might pursue as a hobby? It had many medical applications, he knew, but on Earth some nonprofessionals used it for relaxation and for what they viewed—more accurately than anyone realized—as alteration o
f consciousness. Of course the software here would not be anywhere near as advanced as that used on Maclairn; over time he might be able to make some improvements. . . .
But of course it would be senseless to take on such a job now. What was he thinking of? He might be rescued by Arthur within weeks or even days. It wouldn’t be fair to his employer to disappear shortly after being hired.
Nina managed to be present whenever any of the conspirators met, as they often did—without knowing each others’ true identities—to eat and to talk. She was very young, surely no more than twenty in Earth years, though Terry didn’t ask her. He couldn’t deny that she was pretty, with long auburn hair and a well-proportioned figure; still no woman but Kathryn was ever going to interest him and her evident wish for a relationship was difficult to deal with. He wasn’t old enough to be convincing when he tried to treat her as if there were an unbridgeable generation gap, ancient though his life experiences made him feel in comparison to the Ciencians.
It was only a few days after seeing the ad that he was once again driven into despair. He had gone to the apartment after work, only to find that Elrond was at the spaceport making a pickup; Nina was there alone. Before long Elrond stormed into the room, and seeing Terry he confronted him, his face flushed with anger.
“I always suspected you weren’t what you said you were,” he said. “But I thought you were a decent guy who on the whole had been straight with us. Now I find you’re in touch with the source after all. When I made my pickup they handed me merchandise for you, by name, and it was all I could do not to throw it in the captain’s face.”
Terry stared at him. “What in God’s name are you talking about? Merchandise?”
“Here,” Elrond said coldly. “I ought not to give it to you, I should put it in the trash where it belongs. But you’ve done a lot for us, so just this once I’ll hand it over. Take it and get out of my apartment.”
With shock Terry saw he was holding the bracelet he had sent to Arthur.
He stood and reached for it, the room spinning around him. A reply—he hadn’t dared to hope that Arthur could contrive to send a reply, only that he might be able to make a deal with Ciencia’s government. Had a starship already come for him, then? Was it in orbit, in contact with the smugglers? In any case, why would Elrond object to his receiving a message?
Totally bewildered, he burst out, “I don’t know what you think it is, but it’s just something personal. There’s no more danger to you in receiving this than the rest of the pickup.”
“No danger? I suppose not, though the penalty would be somewhat higher, I think. That’s not what I mind. I want no part of the traffic; we’ve kept our hands clean and they’ll stay that way.”
“What traffic?”
“There’s only one apart from ours, and you’ve been using us as a cover. Don’t think I can’t tell what sort of stuff is on that data bracelet.”
“Obviously you can’t,” Terry said, his own temper rising. “It’s a private message and nobody could possibly know what it’s about.”
“A private message from the source? If the merchandise isn’t included then it can only be negotiation as to the price.”
“For delivering it? But the sender would have paid in advance—”
Elrond frowned. “Don’t take me for a fool. Your client’s paying the sender, not the other way around, and there’s no use pretending I don’t know how it works.”
Terry was at a loss for words. He clutched the bracelet, wondering if he dared listen to the message in their presence. If he’d be leaving soon it might not do any harm if they found out. . . .
Nina, watching his face, spoke up. “Can’t you see he’s confused, Elrond? Maybe you’re jumping to conclusions.”
“There’s just one conclusion possible,” Elrond declared. “Nobody can contact the source unless they’ve got money to offer, and why would he be doing it during our pickups if he wasn’t using them to cover for a big time dealer?”
“I thought the dealers took cargo out,” said Terry. “They wouldn’t be paying, they’d be collecting. I did give the starship captain some money to deliver a personal message a while back, and this is the reply.”
“He’s an innocent,” insisted Nina. “Terry—Elrond’s assuming you’re in the porn business. That’s the only kind of digital file brought in besides ours.”
“Oh, my God!” Terry exclaimed in astonishment. “I’ve got nothing to do with that. It didn’t occur to me that porn was smuggled. On most worlds it’s sold legally unless it involves kids.”
“You’ve been making pickups all this time, and haven’t known what you’d be accused of if the police caught you?”
“No. But it’s logical; if porn vids are banned I suppose they bring a high price here.”
“Don’t they everywhere?” Elrond asked, nonplussed. “If you’re not procuring them, I apologize, but you must see how it looked.” Only half convinced, he went on, “Would it be out of line to ask what you are doing, exchanging messages with the source?”
“I guess you’ve got a right to. But I have to hear this first—it can’t wait.”
Terry plugged the bracelet into his smartphone, reaching in his pocket for earphones. It proved not to be a voice message; the opener was merely a brief cover text. His eyes blurred as he read it, unbelieving.
“Since I took your money I owe you a report,” the starship captain had written. “I don’t know what’s in this message so I can’t say whether its return will be a blow to you, but when I tried to deliver it I learned that Arthur Bramfield is dead.”
~ 54 ~
Terry’s legs felt weak; he fell back into his chair, not caring what Elrond and the others might think. Oh God, dead—and so was his only hope of ever leaving Ciencia. He would be here for the rest of his life, as he’d originally believed, only now that he’d been expecting to escape, it would be even harder to bear. . . .
They had killed Arthur Bramfield. The enemies of Maclairn had murdered him; he’d been a strong, healthy man and could not have died naturally in the past few months. Maclairn was in even greater danger than before if they’d gotten to Arthur. And he could do nothing in its defense. He had pledged to support its people, yet he could not have the slightest influence on what might happen there.
Nina grasped his hand. “You’ve gone pale, Terry!” she said. “What was in that thing? Can we do anything to help?”
“I can’t tell you,” he said despairingly. And then he thought, why couldn’t he? Not about Maclairn, of course, but there was no way they could guess anything connected with that, and since his ID showed him to be a native citizen of Ciencia he couldn’t be charged with illegal immigration. Even if he could, these friends would never betray him.
He raised his head. “You’re entitled to know, and it won’t make any difference now. I don’t belong here. I’m from offworld, and I’ve just learned I can never get back to where I came from because the man I tried to contact is dead.”
“Offworld? How could you be? No captain could get away with bringing a passenger down from a starship—the miners’ IDs are checked when the ship is searched for contraband.”
“I’ve never had contact with the smugglers. I was brought here against my will by some powerful people who wanted to silence me—I’m not free to tell you why. They preferred not to kill me, so they falsified my ID and made sure I won’t ever be allowed to leave.”
Elrond frowned. “Please forgive my skepticism, Skywalker, but that sounds like something from one of the fantasy novels we’ve been reading. If for some reason you can’t reveal what the message was about, okay; but don’t make up far-fetched stories to get out of telling us.”
“I’m not making it up,” Terry declared. “It’s the truth.”
Staring at him, Nina said slowly, “I’d like to believe you. The things you’ve said about what people can do with their minds . . . I wondered how you could sound so sure. It wasn’t just wishing, then? You’ve been to places whe
re those things are real?”
“Yes, of course, some things. A lot are metaphor—you have to understand the difference between that and literal fact. But psi powers are real, though belief in them isn’t generally accepted. Most people say they’re imaginary, but underneath they’re scared by the idea.”
“I don’t understand,” Nina protested. “You’ve been risking prison to bring these texts in, yet you’d already read them, on a planet where you could get more like them? Why?”
“Because it’s wrong for them to be suppressed. On most worlds people don’t tolerate censorship—the League put an end to that centuries ago. I don’t like it and so I do what I can to counteract it.”
He was in a daze, not fully aware of what he was saying, and suddenly he realized that he wasn’t being wholly honest. He hadn’t acted merely on principle. “At the beginning,” he confessed, “I was just trying to get a message out. You were my only connection to the source.”
“You must have gotten it out a long time ago, if you’ve received a reply from offworld,” Elrond said.
“Yes. I sent it the first time I made a pickup.”
“Well, then, why did you keep putting yourself in danger? You didn’t have to be at the spaceport to get the answer—you must have been aware that it might be handed to some other courier.”
Terry hesitated. “I—don’t know,” he said, suddenly realizing that this was true.
“But I do,” Nina declared. “As you’ve often said, you believe the government has no right to decide what we can read, and that matters more to you than safety. We don’t care if you had other reasons besides that.”
“I suppose we don’t,” Elrond conceded. “If you want so much to see other worlds that you’ve convinced yourself you came from there, it’s not for me to judge you. I’ve known from the start that you’re not quite normal, after all, and it doesn’t change the fact that you’re willing to take risks.”
Stunned, Terry dropped the subject and went home. He had not expected that his friends wouldn’t believe what had happened to him, fantastic though it might sound. His isolation from his past was evidently going to be complete.
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 33