All My Sins Remembered (24 page)

“‘Balaam said unto the ass,’” Balaam’s quoted, backing away, “‘“Because thou hast mocked me, I would there were a sword in mine hand, for now I would kill thee.”’”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Joshua followed the S’kang. “This isn’t the Bible. If I wanted to kill you, I’ve had dozens of opportunities.”

“Human logic, bullshit.”

Joshua/Otto suppressed a laugh and sat down. “Balaam’s,” he whispered, “come here. I have a secret.”

The creature stopped. “What?”

“I am not who you think I am.”

“How do you know who I think you are?”

“Come on, now, this is no time for riddles. Do you know what the Magdalenists are trying to do?”

The S’kang shuffled nervously in place: didn’t come any closer. “It’s a mystery. You say you are making my friends Catholics, but you never tell them anything any more. You just ask questions. And now you ask me the same questions, even though you know I don’t find them useful.”

“They aren’t here to convert you at all.”

“They, Joshua?”

“I am not Father Joshua. Father Joshua is an evil man. I was sent in place of him, to keep the Magdalenists from harming you, trying to find out the secret of how you moved this planet.”

“There is no secret.”

“I know. That’s—”

“You could do it too.”

He sighed. “I’m not interested. I just want to keep them from harming you.”

“You’re too late. What should I call you, if you aren’t Joshua?”

“You can keep calling me Joshua. What do you mean, too late?”

“Perhaps not for my friends. Too late for me. My body tries to go both ways, and my mind, too. If I went outside I would freeze to death. If I stay awake, I will… it’s hard to find words. Overload. Go insane. Die of old age. Nothing human corresponds exactly. It will kill me, though: I was one, then I was the other, and now I am neither.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I believe you. Who do you represent?”

“What?”

“Who do you represent? Who is so interested in our welfare?”

“The Confederacion. You know what that is.”

“Of course.” He moved closer. “This is strange. I find you easier to understand. It must be the dying that does it.” He made a chittering sound. “I’m getting more like a human. In a sad way. Have you always known you were going to die?”

“I suppose so. Since I was a boy.”

“Before that, did you worry about sin and repentance? God, and heaven, and hell?”

“No, I guess not. Because I couldn’t—”

“And so you treat us like children. Because we don’t reflect your anxieties.”

“I think there’s more to it than that.”

“Please leave. I have something to do.”

“Balaam’s! How long do you have?”

No answer. “Listen to me,” he whispered fiercely. “When Brother Colin asks you questions, don’t answer him too directly. If he learns anything, he may use it to hurt your friends.” The creature remained silent.

He went back through the steel door. Applegate looked up from the computer.

“Does it still think you did it?”

“Hard to say. Not making much sense. At first it ran away from me, but then it talked for a while.”

He nodded. “You ought to take the recorder in with you. Every bit of data helps.”

“I’ll do that. See you in the morning.”

Joshua went back to his cell and confirmed that it had been searched, not too professionally. He’d left his suitcase in the closet, unlocked, full of mufti. They’d looked through it but missed the false bottom. Not that he’d need the penlaser or knockout gas or the dozen other lightweight, miniaturized tools. Not with this crowd. All he needed was the word from his superiors.

He set his mental alarm for 3 A.M., meditated for a few minutes, and slept.

Once inside the office, he took off the quiet slippers and got into heavy socks and boots. No telling how far the temperature had dropped. He knew where the alarm for the steel door was; opened the drawer and clicked it off.

He opened the steel door an d thought of a word he’d read but never used: gelid. It seemed almost as cold as outdoors. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and breathed carefully. The air made his teeth hurt. He closed the door silently.

“Balaam’s?”

“Over here.” The S’kang was huddled in a corner to Joshua’s left. He picked his way across rows of wilted flowers.

“I wanted to talk to you. This is the only safe time.”

“So talk.”

“Well… why did you shut up on me, earlier?”

“I was helping my friends. Trying to help. It didn’t work, damn it. I’m too awake.”

“What were you helping with?”

“Cooling off this place. Also moving the planet closer in.”

“Wait. One thing at a time.”

“It is one thing.” He made an eery imitation of a human sigh.

Joshua waited for him to continue. “Balaam’s, I can’t stand this cold for very long. What you mean… you claim you actually do move the planet closer to Ember? It’s not a joke?”

“It’s not a joke. I told you. It’s very simple.”

“You said we could do it too.”

“You said you weren’t interested.”

“I am now.” Long silence. “Come on, Balaam’s. How do you do it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What you mean is you don’t want to tell me.”

“What I
mean
, jerk, is that you could do it our way, but you won’t. You’d complicate it, make it too expensive.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let me put it this way. You know that matter and energy are the same sort of thing, really.”

“Okay.”

“And there are some kinds of matter that
want
to be energy, like uranium.”

“So far so good.”

“All we do is take other kinds of matter and make
them
want to be energy. We make the energy go in a certain direction. That speeds up the planet and makes it want to go in closer.”

“That’s all there is to it.”

“Ay-firmative.”

“You use your
minds
to—”

“Meganegatron. You never will get it. Jerks, all of you. Stupid jerks.”

“If we never will ‘get it,’ what do you mean by saying we could do it?”

“See?
You see? I told you how to do it and now you ask me how to do it.”

“I’m a jerk, then. Please elaborate.”

“What I mean is you wouldn’t do it directly. You’d use technology: set up big reaction engines and shovel mass into them. You can convert mass into energy with about seven-percent efficiency. Use up half the Goddamn planet, keeping it warm. Blow the atmosphere away, too. That’s
your
way. Jerks.”

“The way you do it is more efficient? A hundred—”

“There you go again. If you add two numbers and come up with the wrong answer, what per cent efficiency is that?” He had been dancing nervously, agitated. Suddenly he stopped. “Did you hear something?”

“No… what does moving the planet in have to do with—” Suddenly the moon came up to daytime brillance, dazzling him.

Applegate stood in the door, dressed for the cold, a pocket laser pointed at Otto.

“Joshua. I think it’s time we talked.”

Otto shaded his eyes. “Henry?” Ten or eleven meters. The crucifix was an accurate throwing weapon, but he’d have plenty of time to dodge it. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. You’ve been recorded, earlier this evening and just now. You have some things to explain.”

“Now, Henry…” Otto was playing for time, hoping the man would come closer. In an effort to seem casual, he leaned against the wall.

The wall collapsed as if it were made of sand, exposing the steelite pillars that supported the roof. As he struggled to keep his balance, falling, Otto saw that the steelite was eaten through with some kind of corrosion. He toppled off the raised foundation, felt the stinging cold on his face and hands, and landed on his head, on something hard.

Otto was lying on his back, his face wet. He wiped water from his eyes and saw the office ceiling, blurred. Sitting up doubled the intensity of the pounding in his head.

Applegate’s voice came from somewhere. “Now, let’s—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Otto staggered across the room to the water cooler. He took a bottle of APQ’s from the drawer underneath it and shook out a double dose. Took them, counted to ten with his eyes closed, turned to face Applegate, and tried to sound authoritative while his eyes focused: “I’d call this insubordination, Henry. Gross insubordination.”

“Would you, now.” Applegate had the laser trained on him, sitting behind the desk, leaning forward, tense.

Otto walked toward him, picking up a chair on the way. He sat across the desk from him, close enough to reach the pistol. “Please put that away, Henry. It might go off.”

“You told that creature you worked for the Confederación. What did you mean by that?”

“What do you think I meant?”

“I happen to know that you don’t.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m a spy for the Holy See.” Otto put an elbow on the desk and tried to look casual, leaning forward. “How do you know that I don’t?”

“I checked. You see, I
do
work for the Confederación.”

“My God.” Otto buried his face in his hands. Surrounded by allies. “What department? TBII?”

Applegate gave him a strange look and laughed. “There’s no such thing; it’s just a myth to keep the Diplomatic Corps in line. Where did you hear about it?”

Otto grunted. “I get around.” That rumor had been old when he was a trainee. Nobody in the DC was fooled by it. “Are you a diplomatic… person?”

“No. I work for the Bureau of Energy Research and Development.”

“You’re a spy for the Bird?”

“No, I’m a research monitor.”

“A monitor with a gun. Why did they give you a gun?”

“They didn’t; I brought it myself.”

“Very resourceful.”

“Because I thought you were dangerous, from your dossier. For years I felt foolish; now, I’m not so sure. Did you kill that woman?”

He stared at Applegate. Beads of sweat on the man’s forehead. “I think the winter’s getting to you, Henry. Why don’t you go lie down somewhere?”

“Did you?”

“Let me show you something.” He held the crucifix up to his face and sliced off a piece of cheek. Plastiflesh, it didn’t bleed. He tossed it on the desk in front of Applegate.

“Listen carefully because I’m not going to repeat myself. I’m not Joshua Immanuel; Joshua is dead. I’m an agent for a bureau that doesn’t exist, made up to look like him, trained to act like him. And if you don’t put that guff away, you’re going to be in deep, deep shit.”

Applegate shook his head slowly; looked at the piece of plastic; looked at Otto. His gun hand trembled.

“Keep listening. Now you know something you shouldn’t; the memory of this conversation will have to be destroyed. That’s a delicate and expensive process. It’s easier just to brainwipe and start over with a stock personality. If you put that gun away I’ll ask that you be spared.”

“Joshua’s dead?”

“Oh, hell.” Otto slapped his right hand on the desk, hard. When Applegate jerked his head toward the sound, he swept his left hand across the desk and knocked the gun away. Applegate half rose; he pushed him back into the chair. Picked up the gun and put it in his pocket.

Applegate was cradling his right hand with his left, eyes squeezed shut with pain. “You broke my thumb.”

“Sorry. I hope not.” Otto crossed the room and drew two cups of wine. “If you really intend to shoot somebody, you should put your finger inside the trigger guard.” He got the APQ’s from the drawer and brought them over.

“If I’d wanted to hurt you, I would’ve. Take these.”

He washed two of the tablets. “It really… you really are from the TBII?”

“Yes. Will you answer some questions?”

He sat upright. “You’ve got the gun.”

“Please.” Otto sighed. “I’ve had a lifetime of this. We both work for the same people. I’m curious about what you’ve been doing. Can’t we just be two colleagues and talk?”

He stared at his thumb. “Do you have any identification?”

“No, do you? I think it’s just sprained.”

“It’s turning blue. No, I don’t either. I really ought to clear it with my superior before I answer anything.” He looked at his watch. “I wonder what time it is in New York.”

“Add six hours and 32 minutes. What, you want to wake up Brother Desmond and have him place a call?”

“I could. He’s with BERD, too.”

“Jesus. Who else?”

“Only Sister Caarla, as far as I know.”

“Anybody from the Bureau of Standards? Agriculture?”

“No… why should there be?”

“Never mind. Look, if you drag your superior into this, he’ll have to go through memory modification too. And everybody he tells. Don’t make trouble for everybody.”