Too bad, I thought. You would have been interested in the conversations I just had.
I would have been interested in the conversations Medusa had been having, too. Having without me.
I found Captain Thomas on the bridge. “We’ve concluded our business on Maui,” I informed her.
She looked up from her monitor. “We have received our security clearance. I’ve already requested permission to depart. If we don’t pass out from overeating first.”
Maui had shown us what the Belters had to offer. The real movers and shakers were on Graveyard. It was time to complete the last leg of our journey. At least all the obstacles had been removed from our paths.
That’s what I believed. I didn’t know we were about to be confronted by bogeymen from the education programs of my childhood. I thought they had been invented to hide the truth about why we existed. I believed Enemy Clans was just a metaphor for Weapons Clan.
It wasn’t.
15
The Si Clan
I am naïve, I admit—at least in the realm of trade and politics. I thought once we were under way to Graveyard, I wouldn’t hear again from the Belters until Olympia passed through their space, but I began to receive communications within the first hour.
I sought Representative Lee for advice. “I’ve been swamped! Will it seem rude if I don’t answer? All those letters could take hours!”
“Review them,” he said. “I’m willing to bet a lot of them are just trying to say, Hello, here’s my contact information. Copy and paste that information, maybe write a one-sentence summary of what they talked about, and put it in a directory. Don’t be surprised if your directory develops subdirectories. It will be helpful to the Olympians who take over your role as negotiator—unless you decide you like it and want to keep it, in which case, you’ll find that information invaluable.”
I wanted to pout. I had been looking forward to goofing off, catching up with my movie viewing in Nuruddin’s vast database, and napping after my excessive partying and taxing conversations with certain august entities. I didn’t pout for long, however, because I received an offer from unexpected quarters. Teddy and Dragonette approached me when they heard of my plight.
Dragonette reminded me.
said Teddy.
I settled in to be the queen of semi-indolence, but my smug complacency was interrupted by Dragonette when she had a chance to review the full list of petitioners.
I paused Kiss Me Deadly (starring Ralph Meeker and Cloris Leachman).
So much for his grand exit. Didn’t the man know anything about anticlimaxes? You would think he never saw any of the movies he allegedly seeded into our history databases.
Oh well.
* * *
Dragonette had not been surprised to see a communication from Gennady. I had briefed my cohorts with a bare-bones account of my encounters with him, and with the Engineer, leaving out certain dangerous speculations and the parts I had been warned to forget. Perhaps it was my pared-down delivery, but no one seemed all that surprised.
Medusa surfaced just long enough to remark,
Kitten’s attitude toward Gennady was far more positive.
Perhaps I would not feel so inclined to thank Gennady once I viewed the contents of his communication, but the sight of his icon in my queue piqued my curiosity. I wondered if it was representative of the aristocratic old clans, with family seals and crests. It included a bird of prey (or so I assume, judging from the claws and talons), but also some odd symbols that must make sense only to the Mironenkos. For instance, the bird was perched atop an object that looked like a refrigeration unit—with a missing door.
I decided I must be misinterpreting, though it turned out I was wrong, and selected the icon. It delivered a letter to me and a file labeled CHARMAYNE.
Gennady had written:
I know there were questions you wanted to ask, and possibly I will never answer all of them. The attached Charmayne file may clear some things up.
If you suspect me of knowing that Baylor was about to assassinate most of his political enemies on the party shuttle, I don’t blame you. You’re only half right about that. I swear to you, I didn’t know what Baylor was up to until I noticed that the other guests on the shuttle were falling asleep.
I calculated I had a few minutes to save my life. Like you, Oichi, I had practiced getting the suit on quickly in emergency circumstances.
There was no time to unstrap children from their emergency restraints. Believe that or not, as you will. If you had found yourself in the same situation, and you had paused for any reason, you would not have made it out.
As a sign of my goodwill, I have destroyed my copies of the Charmayne file. Besides your copy, they were the only ones that existed. It conflicts with your official narrative about how Baylor Charmayne died, so my advice is to consign it to oblivion. One never knows how the truth will come back to bite you.
Eventually you will learn more of the history of the Great Clans, and how our children schemed to destroy us all. Though we may seem like fools to you, I hope you will not judge the Mironenkos as snobs, despite what you hear. We made our first fortune recycling space garbage. It’s documented on my family seal, if you look closely.
—Gennady
Once I selected it, CHARMAYNE began without any further ado, forcing me into the perspective of someone struggling into a pressure suit. The sirens warning of explosive decompression wailed, and I knew that sound too well, so I recognized what was happening. The images were being recorded by the camera inside the suit helmet, not by the struggler. The picture didn’t stop jerking around until that person had sealed the suit and was facing the outer door of an air lock.
I calculated I had a few minutes to save my life.…
This footage backed up Gennady’s claim. I could imagine him as he scrambled out of his restraints and pushed himself through the weightless environment toward the air lock where he kept his emergency suit. Gennady had spent decades scouting every detail of Olympia and her shuttles—he had used this particular shuttle as his quarters for years at a time.
The task would have consumed all his attention. I knew what that was like, too. Gennady had barely gotten his suit sealed before the outer door of the air lock opened. I heard the rush of atmosphere as he exploded out of the lock, and the scene tumbled. Within seconds, the only sound I could hear was Gennady panting inside his hemet as he used his jets to move away from the party shuttle, because he must have expected that at any moment—
There. The scene in front of him was an endless field of stars, but at the lower edge of his helmet visor, I saw the curved reflection of blue lightning. That must have been when the gravity bombs went off. Gennady’s breathing got more frantic.
He looked toward his feet. I saw the shuttle being twisted apart by that blue lightning. Anyone who had still been alive at that point was no longer.
For several minutes, the scene spun back and forth as Gennady tried to orient himself with his jets. When Olympia came into view, she looked tiny and distan
t.
Oops, I thought. You lost your cool, Gennady. Though I would have done the same. He got disoriented. Maybe he didn’t have the fuel to make it back to Olympia.
Gennady cursed, probably in Russian. I didn’t recognize the words, but no one could mistake the tone.
The same gravity bombs Baylor used on Titania, I would have liked to tell him. The ones you gave him. He didn’t use all of them, Gennady. He kept some for a rainy day.
What are you going to do now?
“Gennady to Itzpapalotl, do you copy?” he said.
He said it several times. I could see part of the display inside his helmet; it documented what suit systems were used. According to the reading, he had eight hours of air left.
“What’s your status?” I recognized Bomarigala’s voice on the suit radio.
“I’m in a bit of a pickle,” said Gennady. “Can you send someone to retrieve me? Something terrible has happened. I’m not sure how it will affect our project.”
“Brief me,” said Bomarigala.
“Oh, most certainly. As soon as I see you on Itzpapalotl.”
Silence from Bomarigala. Gennady waited it out.
Finally Bomarigala said, “You lost your bargaining power when you stood by and watched Titania be destroyed.”
Maybe Gennady wasn’t surprised to hear that. He wasn’t prepared to let it go unanswered, either. “The deed was done before I could act to stop it. You wanted them to evolve as their natures dictated, and that’s what they did.”
“Yes,” Bomarigala said, “but you were there to prevent that sort of disaster. Your life was added to the red column as soon as it happened. You know that’s how we balance our books. The moment you set foot on this ship, you will be dealt with. I think it’s best if you fix your own problem.”
The way Bomarigala was talking made me wonder if he had been a business associate with Gennady from the beginning—whenever that was. One hundred years, at least. Gennady seemed to shrug off time with the indifference of an archangel.
He was less nonchalant when Bomarigala refused to rescue him. Gennady cursed quite a lot more, probably still in Russian, though I am no expert on the subject. Once he exhausted those reserves, he fell silent for several minutes. His breathing calmed. I wondered how long he would float there. Then I remembered something he had asked me the first time he invited me out to supper: Do you ever think about God?
Gennady claimed to think about God all the time. My impression was that Gennady contemplated divine ethics because he was often in a position of violating them. Now that he was alone with his fate, were his thoughts about God more personal?
If Gennady had continued to float there silently, I might never have my answer, but he did not remain passive much longer. Instead, the small screen on the control panel under his visor lit up with an image. It revealed the exterior landscape of Olympia. I wondered if Gennady was going to try to intercept her, after all.
That notion evaporated when Gennady shifted through several close-up shots of Olympia. He seemed to be looking for something in particular. Finally he settled on one perspective, which included the activity of persons outside one of the series-200 air locks.
It was Lock 212.
Gennady spoke one word in Russian. It sounded triumphant rather than angry.
I recognized Medusa. The figure wearing her had to be me. The other person in the shot was Baylor Charmayne. As I watched, Medusa and I seized Baylor with her tentacles and stripped the jets from his pressure suit.
Uh-oh, I thought. This was the recording Gennady claimed to have destroyed.
The recording that implicated me in the murder of the most powerful man on Olympia.
* * *
As I watched Medusa and myself, I couldn’t help thinking, Don’t kill Baylor yet! He has information we need to know!
Alas—hindsight. Maybe it doesn’t matter—the best that can happen is what really does happen. What happened then was that Baylor Charmayne could not see past his Executive arrogance, and I couldn’t see past my resentment.
From Gennady’s perspective, the whole thing unraveled in silence. I don’t know if he was able to eavesdrop on the communications we conducted through our brain implants—Medusa and I were using a secret pathway my father had created, and I have never seen evidence that it was breached. The only indication that the conversation Medusa and I were having with Baylor was not friendly, other than our initial aggressive action regarding his jets, was Medusa’s expression.
I felt riveted by her visage. Because I had been wearing her, I didn’t know what emotions had played on her face. I still didn’t know them. Maybe I can’t. Feelings that powerful might have clouded my judgment and weakened my resolve—they twisted her expression in ways I had never seen. I hardly recognized the entity who held Baylor tight and pulled him closer, so he could see exactly what had him.
I had never asked Medusa how she felt. It never occurred to me—I was so consumed with my own agenda. She had supported me without question back then—but was it really about me?
She had been forced to move her sisters to Olympia to save their lives. She had sabotaged Lady Sheba’s escape vessel. All of that happened long before she met me. Why had I assumed Medusa resented the Charmaynes solely in my behalf? Seeing her now, I felt a grudging respect for Baylor. He had been helpless, yet he kept arguing his case.
Not well enough, though. When Medusa grimaced, both Gennady and I knew Baylor’s time had run out. She and I had acted as one at that moment, just as we had so many times before when we killed our enemies. We slammed Baylor against the hull of Olympia until his faceplate shattered.
Gennady uttered a whole string of enthusiastic non-Standard words. Then he said something I understood perfectly. “You’re not going to triumph after all, you bastard!” He laughed merrily.
“Enjoying some schadenfreude at your enemy’s expense, Gennady? I’m proud of you.”
I had heard it only once, but I recognized the voice coming from Gennady’s helmet radio.
“Grandmother,” said Gennady, “I confess that I am.”
“We’ve lost some powerful allies,” said Baba Yaga, “but cheer up. We’ve gained some others. I think they will prove to be much better.”
The recording ended abruptly when the picture collapsed back into the icon that represented it. I frowned at it, feeling disappointed that he had ended the recording before I could see how he finessed his escape.
That was the least of the mysteries surrounding Gennady Mironenko—and his wasn’t the face that kept surfacing in my memory.
Medusa was closer to me than anyone, yet I hadn’t fathomed her feelings, except where they intersected with mine—and how could I? My own were so shallow. I had squelched them for so long, because they were inconvenient. I felt their absence only when I tried, and failed, to understand my partner. Now I didn’t know how to get them back—if that was even possible.
I sat quietly in my bunk, pretending that I had not just seen something that had rocked me. No one seemed to be paying attention to me.
I didn’t seem to be paying attention to them, either, so I took that with a grain of salt.
I thought I would watch CHARMAYNE at least once more before destroying it, but the schadenfreude Baba Yaga had mentioned no longer gave me the satisfaction I had once enjoyed. The perspective had become painful.
I had to shake myself out of it. Perhaps I had underestimated Medusa’s anger, but my own had been justified. Some of the ones who had orchestrated the death of Titania had paid with their lives. Some had not. I was alive, and so were most of my loved ones, and I must look to our future.
My bunk mates still appeared to be consumed with their own interests. “I’m sleepy,” I announced. “I’m going to close my eyes, but don’t feel you have to be quiet. I don’t mind the noise.”
Cocteau seemed engrossed in her book, until the moment she looked up and winked at me. “I wonder, is it the oldest story in the universe? To murder, and then
to spend the rest of your life trying to cover it up?”
That gave me pause until I remembered what she was reading. “It is if you only read Agatha Christie.”
“Ha!” replied Cocteau. “You might also think so if you only read Patricia Highsmith.”
That was the name printed on her current book, under the title Strangers on a Train. “What happened to Agatha?” I said.
Cocteau patted the nearest stack. “She’s well represented, I promise. I packed a smorgasbord.”
“Is that a French word? I seem to recall hearing it in one of Nuruddin’s Scandinavian movies.”
Cocteau didn’t look up from her book this time. “They were influenced by French culture. Everyone was.”
That parting shot was too perfect to dispute, so I made myself comfortable and closed my eyes.
Ashur asked me something before I could shift gears.
I opened an eye and pointed it at him.
He flushed.
I could have told him that Fire was too old for him, but what teenager wanted to hear that?
He mulled that over.
I smiled.
He raised his eyebrows.
For a moment, he wore a smile very much like the one he had shown me when he kissed my cheek inside his Sirènes program.
Medusa in the Graveyard (The Medusa Cycle) Page 17