Palace (55 page)

‘Expecting trouble?’ Rico asked. ‘I’ve never seen security like this.’

‘Not expecting it, Se,’ the Garang sergeant said. ‘Just prepared in case.’

An ordinary security guard took his final pass at the door. Gridjockeys crammed the lounge itself, a half-round room carpeted and painted in pale blue. On the straight wall stood a tall dais with an interview table. Behind it stood a row of uniformed Garang. Flanked by Damo on one side and Karlo Peronida himself on the other, Barra, dressed in her guild coveralls, sat in a pool of harsh white light and fielded questions from the sea of intakes lapping around the dais. Pix hovered just behind, pointing and clicking as they jostled each other for the best positions.

‘Well, we’re hoping to repair her, of course,’ Barra was saying. ‘Reconfiguring Magnus to take Nimue’s place would be a real long shot. Maybe we could do it, maybe not. Next question? You.’ She pointed, then leaned forward to listen to the mumbling intake who’d caught her attention. ‘No, the guild’s made no firm decision on Magnus at all. A lot of the members think we should just plain leave him alone. Next?’

Rico glanced around and saw a buffet in the curve of the wall. He made his way through the crowd that stood behind the gridjockeys -a few guild members, port officials, Garang guards, and some civilians that Rico couldn’t identify. At the buffet his picture-badge earned him a plate, which he heaped-He stood back against the wall while he ate and listened to the pix shouting questions and his mother’s calm voice answering. Looking skinny and pale in his Cyberguild blue smock, Damo sat with his hands folded in front of him and stared out at the pix.

‘No, we have no idea how long the repairs will take, if we can even make them,’ Barra said.

‘Diagnostics come first. How long? Maybe six months. Standard, yes, not Palace. I’ve been studying the Map schematics in preparation, of course. No, we can’t do the repairs from here. The schematics aren’t real reliable, that’s why. I’ll have better answers for you once I get out there.’

On and on they went, some good questions, some meaningless, some stupid enough to make Rico realize why Tarick Avon occupied an exalted position among intakes, just because he could ask such clear questions and such pointed ones. Rico handed his empty plate to a saccule waiter, then began to edge his way forward - not an easy thing to do. He never would have got close to the dais if Karlo Peronida hadn’t spotted him. The First Citizen leaned over and whispered something to Barra, who broke out in a grin and looked Rico’s way with a wave. Karlo stood up, smiling around at the newsgrids.

‘Very well, ladies and gentlemen, time’s up,’ Karlo said in his dark and booming voice. ‘You know the contractual agreements. We’ve arranged some hospitality for you there on the buffet.’

The white light on the dais went out. The Garang moved from behind the table to form a wall between it and the gridjockeys below. With one last round of clicks and shouts of ‘good luck’, pix and intakes alike headed for the free food.

In answer to his mother’s gesture, Rico climbed the steps up to the dais and followed her through a little door in the wall to an elegant private lounge. On the far pale grey wall hung a huge pair of vidscreens, filled with news clips. Among leather chairs and divans, saccules sashed in Fleet grey drifted through the crowd serving drinks. His mother’s staff and what seemed to be half the Peronida household were standing around talking in hushed voices, while Garang stood guard. Barra caught Rico’s arm.

‘Come be introduced to the First Citizen,’ she said, then whispered. ‘He’s oddly human up close.’

Karlo was standing near the far wall with Pero Nikolaides, also in full Fleet uniform, while behind them stood Dukayn, all in black, frowning at his factor’s tablet. Fortunately there was no sign of Wan. On the vidscreens behind Karlo, his images, shot from different angles, were speaking soundlessly.

‘Here’s Rico,’ Pero said. ‘We’ve met, Father, over that unfortunate incident at Vida’s reception. You could call us brothers-in-arms.’

‘I’m glad to see that bite healed up okay,’ Rico said. ‘She was something, Anji.’

‘The le-Yonestilla girl?’ Karlo said, offering a hand. ‘Ah yes, I heard about that. Good to meet you, Rico.’

‘Thank you, Se. Good to meet you, too.’

They shook hands; everyone smiled; Dukayn stepped forward.

‘First Citizen?’ the factor said. ‘If you’re going to speak at the Centre Council meeting, we need to leave.’

‘Of course.’ Karlo turned to Barra. ‘Thanks again, Se Jons.’ His voice suddenly wavered.

‘Take care of my boy for me, okay?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Barra said. ‘Why, First Citizen! I think you’re going to miss him.’

‘I think you’re right.’ Karlo cleared his throat twice. ‘Well, we’d better be on our way. Pero, stay and do the honours for me?’

‘Yes, Se.’

Pero saluted, Karlo returned it, Dukayn led him firmly away. When a couple of staff people hurried up to Pero, Barra caught Rico’s arm again and drew him away to a wall of floor to ceiling polarized windows. Rico looked out at the shuttle, waiting a safe distance from the buildings across a long stretch of black paving. A sleek white bullet with swept back wings, it crouched at the end of the atlatl launch ramp that would help sling it free of the planet. A portable lift booth stood beside it, ready to load passengers. Fuel tankers and luggage loaders trundled back and forth.

‘Getting excited?’ Rico said.

‘I feel like a kid again. I’ve got a couple of custom diagnostic modules all ready to go, and I figure I’ll have plenty of time to work up more on the flight out. It’ll be three weeks before we dock at Nimue Station.’

‘Will you be off Map all that time?’

‘Pretty much. The resources on the in-system ship are strictly limited. I might be able to contact you and Hi, maybe not.’

‘Once you’re there, though, it’ll be different.’

‘Once I’m there I’ll practically be living on the Map. I’m hoping you’ll keep in touch.’

‘Oh hey, Mom! As if I wouldn’t!’

‘Just checking.’ She paused, glancing around the room. ‘Ah, there’s Damo with Nikolaides. You know, I really did think his mother might have shown up to say goodbye.’

‘I was wondering about that, yeah. Seems strange that she wouldn’t.’

‘There is a lot that’s strange about it.’ Barra dropped her voice to a barely audible murmur.

‘I’ll tell you from the Map.’

As if he’d felt her attention, Damo came skipping toward them. Although Rico was wondering what to say to the boy, Damo ignored him and skipped past. He pressed his nose and hands to the window and stared at the shuttle.

‘That’s ours?’ he said to Barra.

‘Yes. What do you think of her?’

Damo merely shrugged. On the far wall the vidscreens were showing Barra’s press conference, edited into smooth dialogue and intercut with graphics and video of Nimue Station.

‘Attention, all passengers.’ A voice spoke from the ceiling. ‘Launch in minus thirty. Please report to Gate Five. The bus to the launch ramp is loading now. Launch in minus thirty.’

‘That’s ours!’ Barra said with a laugh. ‘Damo, do you have to use the restroom? We won’t be able to go again until after we dock with the in-system ship.’

‘Okay.’ The boy turned around and stared at Rico as if he’d just noticed him. Rico felt the same feeling he got from being snapped by a pix, as if Damo were imprinting his image somewhere in his brain.

When he started to speak, Damo darted off, heading for the restrooms at the back of the lounge. Rico gave his mother a rough hug.

‘See you on the Map, Mom. Take care of yourself, okay?’

‘You bet. Oh, this is going to be fun. The best puzzle in the world.’ She held Rico at arm’s length. ‘And you take care of yourself, too. And take care of your uncle. I don’t care what he says, losing Arno is tearing him up inside.’

* * *

‘Well, yeah.’ Rico felt a sudden lump in his throat. ‘I’ll do that.’

In Vida’s suite Samante had her own rooms - a bedroom, a bath, and an office with its own Mapscreen as well as a pair of vidscreens, which she’d programmed to show every scrap of news available at any given time. Since they were waiting, that afternoon, for media bids on the rights to her wedding, Vida went into the office to watch Barra Jons y Macconnel’s press conference. She slouched in an armchair while Samante sat at her desk, pardy watching, pardy studying bids.

‘This Nimue project?’ Samante said. ‘Is it painful for you to hear about it?’

‘No. I keep thinking that Se Barra’s going to find some evidence that clears my father. Oh I know I’ve been reading too many holonovels again.’

‘Maybe not. I don’t pretend to understand what happened out there, the cyber part of the evidence I mean. Maybe it’s possible that something got overlooked.’

During the conference, Vida found herself waiting for the rare glimpses of the crowd of newsjockeys so she could search for Rico among them. He’d be there, wouldn’t he, for his mother’s departure? At last, just at the end of the broadcast, she saw him handing a dinner plate to a saccule waiter and heading for the dais. Once the conference had ended, she could pay full attention to Samante and the business side of her contract ceremony.

‘Pansect’s bid is low,’ Samante remarked, ‘but Avon is offering a number of concessions. First, he’ll be the only intake to speak to either you or Wan. Second, he’s not insisting on an interview with either Karlo or Vanna as part of the deal. And finally, you get to choose the pictures for the memorial video they’ll be selling afterward. All the other grids are demanding full control over that.’

‘Avon knows how to offer. I don’t want to give up control over the video.’

‘Neither do I. Sometimes they absolutely butcher the tie-ins, and the person’s pop rating hits bottom.’

‘I’m just surprised that everyone’s offering so much.’

‘Oh Vida, please! This is the big social event of the year. Of course they want the rights.’

Vida shrugged the praise away. Who would Aleen choose? she thought. Who would my mother choose? The answer seemed obvious.

‘Let’s go with Pansect. Aleen always said that you have to look at the long term, not just take the cash and run.’

‘Good,’ Samante said. ‘I was hoping you’d see it that way. He’s really something, that Avon. He knows that Pansect can’t compete with the other grids when it comes to money, so he finds ways to outbid them on other levels.’

‘When he did the visit to the suite, you know? He told me then that he intends to build Pansect into a really big player one day.’ Vida suddenly laughed. ‘I told him that we have a lot in common. We’re both starting at the bottom and trying to make ourselves into something, aren’t we?’

‘I never think of you as being at the bottom of anything.’ Samante made a face at her. ‘But you’ve got a point. Let me just draft a couple of transmits. We should give the other grids a chance to match his concessions, but I bet they won’t.’

Vida got out of Samante’s way while she worked and went back into the gather of the suite. In the silvery light from the windows, the room’s ivory walls, the greens and maroons of the furniture and drapes, seemed cold and faded. As she stood looking out of the window, she wondered what it would be like to live where the sunlight was always yellow and warm. She should be doing something, she supposed, not just standing around like this. Aleen would have had her studying one of the optional texts on the School Map rather than just wasting time. It was at moments like these, when she had no engagements, no appointments, no public appearances, not even an agonizing dinner with the Peronidas ahead, that Vida missed the other women at The Close the most. In her old life there was always someone to talk with, always some gossip to share. She wandered over to the sofa and flopped onto it, wondering if her new life was going to be full of empty afternoons.

‘You’ve got to do something,’ she told herself. ‘You can’t just be the girl who gives the Peronidas good ratings.’

Maybe she could gain acceptance to the University Map and be a biologist like Sister Romero or a tech like Rico’s mother? She found herself remembering her lunch with the Papal Itinerant, and Romero’s advice. How exactly had the sister phrased it? That she ‘needed a public role’. That was it. Going on the University Map wouldn’t give her a public role. Well, then, what could she do? What had she been trained for, really?

‘To be charming, that’s what. That’s what Aleen said. You’ve been taught how to charm, so charm them all.’

To be charming and to please customers, to wait on them, listen to their troubles, bring them drinks, give them sex, send them away happy back to their real lives - to do favours for people, that was all it came down to. If she tried to do favours for people in Government House, if she tried to use her access to the first family as a commodity, they would eat her alive and sneer at her behind her back for it. She didn’t need Aleen’s advice to see that. If you were going to charm people for your living, you had to make sure you’d get something back for it, like the money if she’d stayed in Pleasure Sect. Here, money was the one thing she didn’t need to worry about. What she needed was respect. It was only respect that would give her position on the Centre Council any real power and meaning. She remembered Aleen’s remark that the other great families would never respect her. But the ordinary people would. She sat up straight and considered just what that might mean. In her thoughts, she knew, she had the germ of a good idea, if she could only develop it correctly. When some twenty minutes later Samante came bustling in, her hands hill of printout, Vida was still thinking.

‘Well, you’ve been quiet,’ Samante said. ‘I’ve got the final bids here.’

‘Good. Tell me something, Samante. What do you think of this idea? The people’s factor. That’s what I’m going to be, once I get that council seat: the people’s factor. There are all kinds of things that people need help with, and they can’t get anyone to listen to them, because they’re not rich. I mean, the Public Assistance Map is good and everything, but sometimes you need a person on your side.’

Samante frankly stared.

‘Does it sound too dumb?’ Vida said.