Crisis On Doona (25 page)

As soon as she spotted a communications kiosk, she muttered the appropriate apologies and stepped off. Her fellow riders carried past her without ever looking up. Monitors might be watching: they always were even if Earth was less restrictive than it had been a quarter century earlier. Controls remained in place to handle the offenses, both real and imagined, of the multiple billions of Humans who lived in such restricted space.

The booth provided her with complete privacy once she shut the door and activated the “engaged” signal. Now it was decision time. Which of her former friends could she positively rely on? Who was well enough placed to get the information she needed? There were rewards available to those who turned in miscreants. Returning without leave was only a misdemeanor but she didn’t want to risk even that. One by one, Kelly considered a list of her fellow university students. Cara Martinek was a supply clerk in the Spacedep offices. She couldn’t inquire about a former felon with impunity. Jane Kaufenberg worked as a senior researcher at the Amalgamated Worlds Library. Unfortunately Jane probably wouldn’t have the necessary clearances to access Alreldep and Spacedep records. She was also rather prissy and would very likely balk at the thought of making an illegal data search. Dalkey Petersham? He was bright, and had graduated first in his class from his Section Academy before attending the university. Kelly hesitated to approach him, even though they had once worked together on a class project—or perhaps because they had worked together. Dalkey was good, but his after-school thoughts went in one direction only, and Kelly had always told him no. Still, he did work for Landreau, in the right department, and he might even have heard office gossip.

Kelly checked her reflection in the viewscreen. With her fingers, she swiped her hair into place. It was a little earlier than was decent to make a comunit call, but she remembered that Dalkey worked first shift. He should already be awake.

The unit in Dalkey’s apartment answered after the first blink. Kelly plastered on a big smile as the camera changed to live. “Dalkey! Hi!”

“Kelly!” She was right. Dalkey was up and dressed. He was still rail-thin, and his hair was brusquely chopped into the bureaucrat’s unbecoming clip. He wasn’t bad-looking, but there had always been something too smooth about him that turned her off. Trying to be impartial, she had to admit that there was never anyone so obviously born to wear a narrow-necked suit. “Are you back on Earth?”

“I am,” Kelly said, and let out a deep breath. Once she uttered the next phrases, she was committed. “Can I come over and talk to you? I’m not far from your Aisle. I’ve got a favor to ask.”

Dalkey looked surprised but pleased. “Sure. I’ve got thirty before I’ve got to punch in. Come and have breakfast.”

Kelly paid a credit into the kiosk and accepted a receipt chit from the slot so the door would open. Then she retraced her steps to the Corridor. Dalkey lived one more Aisle over, and down to the right several hundred meters on the same level as the Hrruban Center. Several times along the way, she had to force herself to slow down and remember to bow her head like native Terrans. People were beginning to notice her. Kelly bit her lip and concentrated on the appropriate mincing steps, though it was permissible to move slightly faster in an Aisle. She couldn’t take any chance that a sharpeyed monitor might become suspicious and whisk her off the Aisle into Poldep headquarters.

Dalkey was waiting right inside the door of his apartment. He lived in a block of flats occupied mainly by government employees in the Space Services. With an elaborate bow, he escorted her inside.

“Welcome back, Kelly. May I hope that you’re back on Earth for a long stay?”

“Actually not,” she said, glancing around. The room was a typical bachelor pad. The Residential and Housing Administration allowed the minimum amount of space for single people. The place was sparsely furnished, the walls one of the neutral colors permitted, but it held one surprise: a very colorful tapestry in the Doonan style which brightened the room immensely. Kelly didn’t recognize the weaver, but it was an excellent piece of work. In her eyes, that upgraded Dalkey a notch above the usual run of bureaucrats. “Thank you for the invitation to breakfast. Can you really spare the calories?”

“Sure can,” Dalkey said, waving her to a seat. “I have more than I need. I keep some of the excess on credit for times when friends drop in, such as now.” He programmed two breakfast meals out of the food machine and smiled at her as the characteristic whirring began behind the panel.

Synth-food! Kelly smiled bravely back, wondering if she could keep from gagging. The moment she left for Doona weeks ago, she had gladly put the horrors of synthesized food behind her.

The hatch opened to reveal two plates. Several different grayish or pale tan masses were arranged on each.

“Here we are,” Dalkey said cheerfully, as if conferring a real treat, as he brought the steaming plates over to the table and placed one before her. “Go right ahead.” He slid into the chair opposite her and began on his own food.

From long experience Kelly remembered which lump was supposed to simulate eggs, and that the next was a milled grain colloid, but the last one’s origin she had never been able to figure out. Certainly it could never have been meat, and it wasn’t sweet enough to be fruit. She knew that only because the saccharine dessert lump that followed the midday meal was supposed to be fruit.

Dutifully Kelly picked up her fork and started to eat. With the first mouthful the flavor, or lack of it, brought back memories of four long years of make-believe comestibles. She reminded herself that billions of Terrans started every single day with this food. It was healthy, contained every vitamin and mineral necessary for life, and was easily digested. It was still disgusting. She thought she was doing fairly well at disguising her distaste until a tiny chuckle brought her attention back up to Dalkey. He was watching her with an impish gleam in his eyes. He waggled his fork at her plate.

“Not what you got used to on holiday, is it, colony girl?”

“Well”—Kelly laughed self-deprecatingly, putting her fork down—“when you grow up eating real food, it’s hard to adjust to a synthetic substitute. If you hadn’t been born here, you’d know what I mean.” The inadvertent use of Kiachif’s favorite bridging phrase reminded her of her errand. “Look, I’d be happy to send you some fruit and things from Doona, so you can find out what you’ve been missing.”

“From the look of you, plenty,” Dalkey said, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t need to finish the meal, if you can’t stand it.”

Gratefully Kelly got up to put the dish into the hatch. As she turned back to the table, she found Dalkey standing over her. She started around him, but he pinned her against the wall, his hands on her shoulders.

“So,” Dalkey said, lowering his eyelashes seductively. “Come on. Out with it. You didn’t come back here just so I can look into your beautiful eyes, although I’m always happy to have that opportunity. What’s the favor you need?”

Kelly squeezed back against the synthesizer hatch so there was a few centimeters breathing room between them. The expectant expression on his face alarmed her. She had spent all that time worrying whether anyone would notice her on the street when she should have been figuring out how to fend off Dalkey’s advances. He was taller than she was and thin; even his neck was thin. He needed more muscle on him. She could probably knock him down with just a good hefty push. Which wouldn’t get her the favor she needed, and she didn’t need a wrestling match. Resolutely, so he might realize she had other things on her mind, she folded her arms over her chest.

“All right, here it is,” she blurted. “I need to find a man, housed somewhere in the blueblood Corridors. He was released from a prison planet about ten years ago. He was an expert in laser technology and he’s been given some kind of annuity. I need to know why. The safety of two of my dearest friends is at stake, not to mention the continuation of the Doona colony.”

He gave her a measuring look. “And in return?” he asked, running the back of his hand down her cheek. “Surely you’re not going to offer me a silly case of Doona oranges for performing an illegal act with such broad-reaching consequences? Spacedep frowns on people trying to penetrate the privacy files of a former convict. I could be exiled to a mining planet, and so could you for asking. Hard labor.”

Kelly nearly asked him what he did want, and realized that she didn’t have to. She decided to tell him the truth, and trust to his discretion.

“Dalkey, two friends of me and my family are being framed for crimes that there’s no way they could have, or would have, committed. I have it on very good authority that this man might know something about the method that was used to incriminate them. He’s the right kind of expert, and he seems to have more money than someone recently paroled ought to have. It’s also very odd that a man who faced a life sentence should be paroled, at just about the time we have now discovered a conspiracy was evolved to discredit my friends. He could be an essential party to that conspiracy. I always thought of you as a person with a fine sense of justice. I’m appealing to that now.” And she looked Dalkey straight in the eye.

“You’ve got me interested, I’ll say that much. Too many criminals get loose and there’ve been gangs that have done serious damage. So what sort of crimes are your friends supposed to have committed?”

“Horse rustling, theft of antiquities, possession of stolen goods, and breaking prohibitions set by the Treaty of Doona,” Kelly replied, still keeping eye contact. “No matter what you decide, please keep this confidential.”

“You just bet I will,” Dalkey said with a weak laugh. “As a colonial, couldn’t you have fallen for small-time offenders? I’m sure not in your class.” He stepped back then, still shaking his head as he let his arms fall to his sides. Kelly gulped in relief and flushed with embarrassment.

Dalkey winked at her consternation. “You don’t have to look so surprised. I may not be the man you thought I was, but I’m not the one you were afraid I was either. Ah, ah, ah, don’t deny it!” He shook a finger under her nose. “On the other hand, if you’re feeling grateful later on, I wouldn’t refuse.”

He gestured for her to sit on his couch, an old piece Kelly remembered from his student digs and a lot more comfortable than it looked.

“Now, suppose you acquaint me with all the details you’ve got about this mysteriously paroled felon,” he said. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a name?”

“Captain Kiachif knew him as Askell Klonski.”

“He’d change his name first thing,” Dalkey said, “to shield his real identity. Or maybe that was the name he changed to. Never mind. What else do you know?”

While Kelly talked, he made notes by hand on an old piece of film. “Best not to enter anything on a computer, even for immediate printout and erasure. You never know when the government monitors might choose to check for employee subversion.”

Kelly was impressed by his caution. “You surprise me, Dalkey. Thank you.”

“Oh, it’s not such a surprise. I’m not quite the perfect cog in the machine yet. You know, I’ve always been attracted to you, partly because you come from Doona. You seemed so much freer than most of the other girls. A pity that freedom didn’t extend to the sensual pleasures.” Kelly eyed him warily, wondering if he was going to make a grope. He pursed his lips, amused by her. “I’ll help you because it’s one way for me to get back at the upper-up bureaucrats. There are dirty tricks being played on other people, not just your friends, and I’m getting sick of them. Are all the government services as dirty as Spacedep?” He made a face.

Kelly hurried to reassure him. “No, they’re not. Alreldep isn’t, otherwise I wouldn’t be staying with it. Sumitral’s a straightforward man, and he attracts people of a similar stripe.”

“Stripe?” Dalkey asked.

“That’s a Doonan compliment. You should transfer to his service. Or,” Kelly said, laying a hand on Dalkey’s arm, “opt for Doona the next time you hear of a residency opening. I’m a citizen. I can sponsor you if you want to come. You could work in the Treaty Center. You’ve got the right kind of training.”

“You’d do that for me? Just like that?” Dalkey asked, snapping his fingers. Kelly nodded. “Yes, I believe you would, colony girl.” Then he grinned wryly. “So it’s to my advantage to help your friends clear themselves, thus keeping the Doona Experiment going. Fair deal. Look, you’d be safest staying here in my apartment while I get the data crunching. What monitors don’t see, they can’t report. I don’t share with anyone, so you wouldn’t be disturbed. If you don’t feel comfortable,” and Dalkey eyed her for a long moment, “I’ve some friends who work in Residence Administration and maybe they can let you crash somewhere. It may take a couple of days to snoop into the right files.”

“A few days? I don’t have that much time, Dalkey. I’ve got to go back to Doona tomorrow, no matter what. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch either: it’s not that uncomfortable.”

“No, you’ll sleep in the bed,” Dalkey insisted. She opened her mouth to protest, and he clicked his tongue chidingly. “Ah, ah, ah, there you go again. I can sleep on the couch. Especially if my courtesy gets me out of Spacedep. Oops, five to the starting clock. I’d better go and sign in. I’ll see you after shift.”

Kelly’s conscience stung her as Dalkey saluted her rakishly and stepped out of the door. She’d had to revise her opinion of him upward. During their years at school, she had never had the courage to brave her way past his cool facade: an impenetrable barrier to the self-effacing colonial girl she’d been. She was sorry now that she’d been so reserved that she’d missed the chance to know someone who could have been a good friend.

The time passed with maddening slowness. Kelly tried to sleep but the walls seemed to close in on her. They weren’t that far apart. She was very tense during the first few hours, afraid that a friend of Dalkey’s might decide to visit him. Then she reminded herself that everyone would know Dalkey was at work. She didn’t dare use any of the electronics, for fear of alerting the residence monitors, who would also know that no one should be in the Petersham flat. So she didn’t, for fear she might be apprehended as a burglar, taken into custody, and have to explain why she was on Earth when she wasn’t supposed to be. She’d be incarcerated on Earth: never see Doona—or Todd—again. Years of claustrophobia and synth-food! She paced out the dimensions of both of the small rooms over and over again. The apartment was about three times the size of her student studio flat. It astonished her to recall that she had actually existed for four years in a box that was smaller than Calypso’s stable.