Multireal (68 page)

"So it seems like we're in a depressingly familiar situation," she
said. "Natch has vanished. The drudges are calling for his head. We've
got the Meme Cooperative and the Defense and Wellness Council
riding on our backs. One of our chief engineers is rotting in an orbital
prison somewhere, and the founder of the company is dead."

"I don't understand why the Council hasn't said anything about
Margaret's murder," said Horvil. "I thought they were doing an investigation. They must have figured out something by now."

Jara frowned and bit her bottom lip, hard. She was ashamed to
admit it, but she had barely thought about Margaret Surina's mysterious death during the tumult of the past two weeks.

"Doesn't surprise me they're not saying anything," Benyamin
remarked. "With all this going on"-he twirled his index finger in the
air-"Len Borda would have to be pretty stupid to bring it up now."

"What about Quell?" asked Horvil. "The Council can't just hold
him indefinitely, can they? They must have figured out by now that he
didn't kill her. Isn't there something we can do to help him?"

"I already tried," said Merri. Four surprised heads swiveled in her
direction. "I convinced Khann Frejohr's people to make some
inquiries. But the Council's keeping mum. They've got him in an
orbital prison somewhere. That's all I can find out."

"Do you know which one?" asked Serr Vigal. "I toured a few of
them back in '35 or '36. The good ones aren't so bad. But the bad
ones ..." The neural programmer waved his arms helplessly for a
moment, but no words arrived to bail him out.

Ben tapped his fingers on the table, impatient. "We can't be the only
ones looking for him, can we? Doesn't Quell have a family at home? Close
friends? The Islanders don't take these kinds of things lightly. There's got
to be some committee petitioning the Council for his release."

"Well, that's the interesting part," replied Merri. "There is a group
of Islanders working with the libertarians to try to secure Quell's release.
They're making all kinds of threats. And one of them is Quell's son."

Horvil's jaw flipped open as if on springs. "Quell has a kid?"

"Apparently he does."

"I wonder if that's why he's staying in prison," said Jara, contemplative. Everyone gave her blank stares. "Well, why doesn't he use
MultiReal to overpower the guards and escape?"

"They regulate all transmissions in and out of those prisons,"
offered Ben. "He wouldn't be able to access MultiReal in there."

"Fine-but why did Quell let them take him to prison in the first
place?"

No one knew.

The conversation seemed to lose its legs at that point. The fiefcorpers looked around at one another, each expecting somebody else to
prolong the conversation. Three minutes passed. The SeeNaRee generated some background hallway noise to fill the silence.

"Okay," said Jara finally. "We can't just avoid the obvious question
all morning, can we? We need to figure out what happens to the fiefcorp. We need to figure out what to do, now that we've got no product."

Benyamin frowned. "What do you mean, no product?"

"Ben," said Merri gently, "you know that the Prime Committee is
likely to-"

"Yes, yes, of course," snapped Ben, cutting her off. "They'll probably vote to take control of MultiReal and hand it over to the Council.
But does that mean we're just going to ... give up? I don't care what
the Committee decides. We could always appeal the ruling, right? We
could talk to Khann Frejohr, get him to stir up public sentiment again.
Or-or, we could try to work out another deal with Len Borda. A real
deal this time."

Jara shook her head. "It's a moot point, Ben. Even if we could persuade the centralized government to change their minds ... we don't
have MultiReal anymore. Natch moved the databases. He used that ...
back door in his head, or whatever it is to lock up all the code and
squirrel it away somewhere on the Data Sea where no one can find it."

"You mean-"

"Yes. It doesn't matter what the Prime Committee decides,
because MultiReal's gone."

Serr Vigal stroked his goatee, pensive. "What about the Patel
Brothers? If Natch took the MultiReal code with him, do they still
have access to it?"

Jara shrugged. "I'm not sure. I assume that if we don't know how
to find it, they don't know either." And once the Patels figure out I don't
have MultiReal, she thought sourly, that probably spells the end of the deal
I arranged with them to get the fiefcorp's business licenses back.

"But it's not like MultiReal's permanently gone," said Benyamin,
unwilling to let go. "Natch still has access to it. And he's going to
come back eventually. He hasn't just disappeared for good ... has he?"

Silence. Jara expected an objection from Serr Vigal, but the neural programmer remained disturbingly quiet. Horvil merely sat and nibbled on his cuticles, while Merri fidgeted uncomfortably.

The blonde channel manager folded her hands on the table and
screwed up her face like a woman trying to calculate logarithms in her
head. "So if we assume that Natch is gone ... and MultiReal is gone
... what do we have left?"

"Nothing and nothing," said Horvil dejectedly. "After the demo at
Andra Pradesh, Natch sold off every last bloody scrap of code we had.
Even the RODs. The fiefcorp dock is just ... completely empty."

"Brilliant," grumbled Ben. "Fucking brilliant."

"So then should we ... dissolve the company?" asked Merri.

A hush fell upon the already quiet fiefcorpers. Everyone had heard
the stories about apprentices hitched to dead fiefcorps by dint of circumstance. One of Jara's old hivemates had spent three years working
for a bio/logic programmer who passed away unexpectedly nine years
after founding her company. Fiefcorp tax breaks dried up after a
decade; no capitalman would invest in a company so close to its cutoff.
Suddenly Jara's friend had found himself with nothing but a portfolio
of worthless shares to his name.

But for the employees of the Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp, dissolving the company meant much more than just loss of profit. They
would probably have to forgo their bio/logic programming equipment
and most of their professional relationships. Jara and Merri might have
to give up their apartments. In other words, they would all have to
start over as if the last three and a half years had never happened.

"I'm not sure we could legally dissolve the fiefcorp," mused Vigal.
"With most of us still suspended by the Meme Cooperative and the
masters of the company completely absent ... I think we'd have a difficult time in the courts. The fiefcorp's assets would probably just go
into receivership. It might take years for the courts to finally accept
that Natch is ... Natch is ..." He couldn't finish the sentence. Gone.

Horvil slapped the table. "I could buy the company," he blurted out.

A spark glinted in Merri's eye, but Ben sighed and shook his head.
"I don't know. A purchase that big-you couldn't manage that
without clearance from my mother, and you know she'd never approve.
No, don't start, Horvil. We couldn't afford it alone. Even if we both
pooled all our liquid assets, I don't think we have the money."

"Some of Khann Frejohr's allies have been pushing for reparations,"
said Merri. "They're demanding that we get compensation if the Prime
Committee tries to compel us to turn over MultiReal."

"And what chance do you think that has of working?" asked
Horvil, chin planted in hand. "One in a million?"

"Listen, money isn't the problem," said Jara. "We've got plenty of
credits sitting in the company coffers. Margaret Surina's money."

"You mean, Jayze and Suheil Surina's money," Ben retorted. "You
know that those sleazeballs are going to come after it. They already
laid the groundwork by having her declared mentally incompetent
before she died. The next thing they do is say that Margaret was
unstable when she entered into her partnership with Natch. Don't tell
me that's going to be too hard to prove."

Jara shook her head. "I'm not worried about Jayze and Suheil getting hold of the fiefcorp's money. The problem is that we can't get
ahold of it. Not as individuals. What I'm saying is that even if we
could dissolve the company, we can't just split up the Vault account
five ways. What we can do is spend it-as a fiefcorp." She stood up
from her chair, leaned over, and pressed her clenched fists onto the
tabletop. "Listen, we don't have enough bio/logic code left in our dock
to build a product base on. And starting over from scratch isn't really
feasible, right? So let's use that money. Let's approach some of the bigwigs on Primo's and offer to buy a portfolio of their programs."

There was a moment of quiet contemplation. Given the idiosyncratic nature of bio/logic programming, it usually wasn't worth the
effort to cobble together a product line from the remnants of someone
else's code. It wasn't unusual for a fiefcorp to purchase one or two pro grams to round out their own offerings, but to build a company from
the ground up this way was a risky move at best.

"Which bigwigs did you want to approach?" said Merri.

"Lucas Sentinel," replied Jara. "Bolliwar Tuban. Pierre Loget and
Billy Sterno, if they ever show up again."

Ben spoke up. "I thought you and Sentinel didn't get along. Do
you think he'd sell us anything but the dregs?"

"Probably not," Jara admitted. "Given all the animosity Natch has
built up in this industry over the years, I'm sure a lot of people are just
waiting to take their revenge too. Even if Natch isn't around to see it.
But it seems to me that this is our best option-unless the Prime
Committee votes in our favor."

"It's too late for that," said a voice.

The SeeNaRee instantly evaporated into nothingness, leaving the fiefcorp sitting in a conference room that was even duller and more antiseptic
than the virtual one Jara's mood had conjured up. Standing by the door
was Magan Kai Lee, flanked by his proteges Papizon and Rey Gonerev.

"The Prime Committee just voted an hour ago to seize MultiReal
and hand it over to the Defense and Wellness Council," said Magan.
"Eighteen to five."

Jara was sick of Defense and Wellness Council agents popping up
everywhere she went. She was tired of opening doors and rounding corners to find the placid, emotionless face of the lieutenant executive.
How had he managed to get into this room without Jara's authorization? How had he managed to get into this building, for that matter?
The analyst thought it was probably better not to know.

Jara took a few steps closer to the Council officers and extended her
finger into prime wagging position. "Listen, Lieutenant Executive," she
spat, "I don't know what kind of shit Len Borda's trying to pull here-"

"We're trying," said the Blade, "to protect you from Len Borda."

The analyst closed her mouth and plopped back down in her seat.

"The world is on the brink of crisis," continued Magan. "What
happened at the Tul Jabbor Complex is only the beginning. The Data
Sea's buckling under the strain of these infoquakes. Computational
resources are disappearing; people are dying. The Islanders and the
Pharisees are marshaling their forces for war." He recited these calamities with the detachment of a man reading from a speech handed to
him by a subordinate moments ago. "The Council has more pressing
things to deal with than pursuing a vendetta against your fiefcorp. So
we're prepared to offer you one last deal."

Jara let out a scornful laugh that took everyone in the room by surprise. Papizon visibly flinched. "A deal?" cried Jara. "What kind of
deal could you possibly offer us? We don't have anything you want, and
we wouldn't take anything you offered."

"Don't play ignorant with us," said Rey Gonerev, stepping forward
with the triumphant look of a card player unveiling a winning hand.
"We're perfectly aware that Natch gave you core access to the MultiReal databases. But Borda doesn't know that, which is the only reason
you're still alive."

Jara snorted. "So? That core access is useless. Natch moved the
fucking databases. We have no idea where they are."

The Blade stopped short and blinked hard in shock. For once she
seemed at a loss for words.

Magan, however, did not appear to be surprised by this sudden
turn of events. "All we're asking is that you help us track Natch down.
In return, we'll persuade the Meme Cooperative to drop all its charges
against you. You'll be given clean slates in the bio/logic sector and the
freedom to find new apprenticeships if you wish. We'll compensate you
for any losses you've incurred." He turned to gaze at each of the fiefcorpers in turn, finally stopping to bestow an especially vivid look in
Jara's direction. "Refuse to help us, and I can't predict what Len Borda will do. He's capricious enough to drag everyone off to join the
Islander in prison, or just do away with the lot of you. With the infoquakes still in full swing, nobody's going to stop him. I doubt hiding
at a fancy estate with a pack of drudges on the doorstep will hinder
him this time."