Reclamation (14 page)

“Once.” Perivar laid two fingers over his heart. “The promise goes from here to the gods.”

Iyal just watched him. “The Rhudolant Vitae are making sure everybody comes down real hard on … the competition … these days. I hope you’re still in shape.”

“Wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t. Check your hard mail bin tonight, Iyal. I’ll have the sample in it.”

“Good enough. Take care, Perivar.”

“And you, Iyal.”

She watched him thoughtfully for a minute longer before her hand reached out to her control panel and his screen went blank. Because he didn’t request another line, the display lowered itself until it was flush with the counter again.

So, I lied,
he said silently to the space where the display used to be.
I wouldn’t be doing this if I was sure Eric would keep his mouth shut about me if I didn’t.

Gods, gods, gods. I’d forgotten about this. Don’t trust anybody. Can’t trust anybody. Everybody’s dangling something over you, unless you’ve got something to dangle over them, and even then it’s who’s got more and what’s worse.
Abruptly, he found himself laughing.
I’m getting old. And cowardly.

It wasn’t a general warning that Iyal had brought up about the Vitae, although they were the main reason her job was in danger. Thanks to the talent-mongering Vitae, Amaiar Gardens was one of the few independent gene-tailoring houses left on Kethran.

Kethran was an artificial ecology. A hundred thousand details of the environmental balance had to be constantly monitored, maintained, and replenished. A population surge coupled with an unexplained drought had the Senate screaming for help. The Vitae had quietly offered to take over the administration of the ecology for a comparatively reasonable trade and land contract. They’d moved the majority of the government employees into labs and farms they themselves subsidized, and in three years they had made themselves indispensable.

With that kind of power, they could make more than a few demands without the official power base getting upset. They could, for example, ask for rigid enforcement of some of the legal codes.

Never mind that the Vitae were the largest purchasers and purveyors of contraband bodies in the Quarter Galaxy. It was only one of the areas where they had a low tolerance for competition.

Perivar had sometimes wondered what the Vitae were looking for. They had the most sophisticated gene-engineering methods in the Quarter Galaxy, and yet they bought body after body. It was a clumsy, risky, expensive way of acquiring new genetic patterns. Tasa Ad and Kessa, the heads of the runner team Perivar had been part of, had survived by selling their … acquisitions … exclusively to the Vitae, or the Vitae’s clients.

Perivar remembered the cargo hold on the runner’s ship then. Double racks of anesthetized bodies in support capsules. No sound, except for the weird harmony that came from so many support systems droning on together.

What do you think I am?
asked Eric’s voice from memory.

I think … I think I didn’t think.

“Perivar?” Kiv’s hail sounded through his translator disk.

“Here.” Perivar straightened up. “Open up. It’s all right.”

The membrane housing slid back. Perivar looked through the threshold to see the slightly wobbly scene of Kiv and his family. All five of the kids were in evidence, swarming up and down the poles, working on the control pads, delving under the map table. Kiv held all his eyes and hands open.

“We need to …” began Kiv.

“Go over the …” Dene scuttled out from under the map table and vanished under the communications counter.

“Shipment of packet 73-1511.” Ere took her place of pride on her parent’s shoulders, hands out and ready to work.

“Now!” added Ka, as she slithered halfway up her parent’s back. Ka hated to be left out.

Perivar nodded, understanding what he saw as a mark of trust. Kiv had nothing precious hidden. Nothing more needed to be said. Perivar leaned over his map table and touched the slave key to synch the two tables together. Ri slid into the capsule and shot across the cables to dangle above him as his map lit up.

The map showed a representation of one-tenth of the Quarter Galaxy from a communicator’s point of view. Suns shone as pinpricks of gold; inhabited stations were green and drone stations were blue. The chaos of the communications networks stretched between them as a series of glowing white line segments. Solid lines showed the beam connections. Dotted lines showed the places only a ship could reach. A red grid overlay the entire arrangement, measuring everything out in hundred-light-year squares.

The network had no organization. It was several million shifting threads, made up of everything from cavernous, public databases, to hard-wired private lines, to rented AIs like Brain.

Perivar accessed packet 73-1511’s shipment plan. The map displayed the work in progress by turning a series of the white lines orange.

Calling what they were organizing a “packet” was a convenient shorthand. 73-1511 was actually a data transfer from a research station to a third stage colony. A library’s worth of specialized manufacturing information needed to be copied across ten thousand light-years’ worth of network. It was a complicated process, especially since “simultaneous transmission” was a meaningless concept across the distances the map represented. Even quantum transfers took time. Without careful planning, the channels, even if they were reserved with solid credit, shifted and blurred. The pathway, and all the information, could be lost in a heartbeat

That much-disliked fact gave Perivar and Kiv their living. They found clients who needed a specific kind of information, found a source for that information, and then, most importantly, found a way to get the information from the source to the client. Each shipment took hours of planning and sometimes more insurance than their combined accounts could afford.

“The K-12 band is going to be open for a station to groundside datadump. That’ll take us from Averand to Cole’s Spot.” Perivar traced a new path on the map table with his finger. The sensors on the surface responded by marking a new orange line on the display.

“Could we piggyback in on a Vitae download from there to Haron?” Kiv dotted in another segment.

“What’re they charging?” Ri whistled from the capsule.

“For pickup and delivery through there?” Ere got in belatedly.

Perivar considered the idea. “We can get the rates off Brain. Save that as plan B, though; I don’t want to have to depend on the Vitae right now.”

“Whee.” Kiv’s whistle did not translate so the disk simply transmitted the syllable. “That is a thought.”

Brain’s chime sounded over their heads. “Sar Eric Born and Sar Arla Stone are waiting in the lobby.”

Perivar glanced across at Kiv. “Brain. Open the doors and let them up.”

“Do you want us to close the housing?” asked Kiv, his secondary hands reaching toward the membrane.

“Only if you want to.”

Kiv’s whole body rippled. “I think we would rather see what is coming. Ri, come back here.”

Perivar caught the heightened pitch and speed of the whistle under the translator’s flat voice. Ri obeyed without comment.

As soon as the capsule was safely on Kiv’s side, Perivar got to his feet and swung the door to the outer hallway open. Leaving a door closed when a guest was on the way was an insult where Perivar came from, and Eric knew that. Perivar blinked a bit in the hallway light, which was supposed to simulate a sunny day. The lift door opened. Perivar watched as Eric and his … companion stepped off.

She looked a lot like Eric had when Perivar first saw him, handmade clothes, hair hidden under a twist of cloth, and hands covered with tattoos, except that hers were stark white lines, as opposed to Eric’s colorful swirls. She shared Eric’s warm skin tones and black eyes. For a brief moment, Perivar wondered if they were related.

“Thanks for the open door, Perivar.” Eric, Perivar knew, expended his small stock of Eshmi words on the greeting.

“Your accent is going.” Perivar stood back to let them inside.

The woman, Arla Stone, hesitated, until Eric said something in their own language to her. Perivar tapped his translator reflexively. At one time, he’d had Eric help him set it for the Realm’s jaw-breaking language. Since they had parted ways, though, Perivar hadn’t needed that particular information and the disk’s assembly time was going slow.

The woman walked across the threshold, blinked at the lighting change, got a look at Kiv and the kids, and froze.

The translator finally had the file reconfigured and Perivar heard Eric mutter, “I warned you.”

So she’s straight out of the woods. Wonderful.
Perivar strangled a fresh sigh.

Kiv responded to her stare by uncoiling himself until his scalp brushed the ceiling so she could get a really good look. Sha, Ka, and Dene scrambled up on their parent’s back, whistling and draping themselves across his shoulders and his lower arms. They wanted to be looked at, too. The other two kept themselves still. Having been raised with humans, all the kids could read the difference between a stare of wonder and a stare of fear. The motionless two chose to acknowledge that difference.

“I wish well-come to you and yours Eric Born and Arla Stone,” announced Kiv politely, although Perivar figured he must have been getting the hint by now. Kiv could be willfully dense some days.

“Thank you,” Arla croaked. She stepped back and seemed to try to collect herself.

“She says thanks,” Perivar told Kiv as the Shessel touched his translator set in his lowest ear and cocked his head.

“Obscure language.” Arla wore a translator disk in her ear, so she could understand Kiv, but since she didn’t speak any of the languages Kiv’s disk was set for, all he could hear from her was gibberish.

“Ah,” Kiv shrank back to his normal stance, depositing children on assorted flat surfaces.

Perivar turned to Eric. “We need to talk for a minute.” He jerked his chin toward his living rooms.

“I assumed we would. Arla.” The sound of her name finally got the woman to tear her gaze away from Kiv. “I’ll be in the next room. If you …”

“I’ll be all right.” Her voice held steady but Perivar caught the slight trembling in her hands before she clenched them into fists and pressed them against her side.

Eric opened his mouth to say something but obviously changed his mind. Jaw firmly shut, he brushed past Arla and headed for Perivar’s rooms. Perivar’s glance wavered between the pair of them for a moment before he followed Eric.

The living rooms were as crowded as the workroom. The chairs and tables were all padded blocks of no style or period. They were functional and sturdy and that was all. The one luxury was the windows. Two walls worth of transparent polymer let the sunlight in, even if the view of the warehouse cluster was less than inspirational.

Perivar slid the door shut and faced Eric.

Gods, he’s changed. Wouldn’t know him from anybody on the colony.

“When’d the Vitae get hold of this place?” The worried note in Eric’s voice shocked Perivar.

“Three, maybe four local years ago. We’re a late acquisition. What’s the problem?”

“I wish I’d known,” Eric said wearily.

Silence fell, thick and heavy.

“We’re not on the network anymore, Eric,” Perivar said, at last. “Nobody’s listening. I need an explanation for this, now.”

Eric’s shoulders stooped even farther than usual. “I’m in trouble, Perivar. That’s the explanation. The Vitae tried to stash me in Haron Station, which is where they had Arla.”

Perivar felt the blood begin to drain from his face. “What in the name of all the gods would they do that for?”

“As soon as I know, you’ll know.” Eric’s fingers hooked around each other. “They’re after something in the Realm of the Nameless Powers. I’ll be drowned and washed away if I know what it is. I thought it was my”—he stared at his bare palm—“power gift, but she … Arla”—his hand swept down toward the door—“isn’t gifted. The Vitae picked her up out of the Realm and reeled me in to help deal with her.

“I’m on the run again, Perivar.” Eric looked up again and the expression in his eyes made Perivar’s throat tighten. “I’m going to try to find out what the Vitae want from the Realm, and from me, and from Arla, for that matter, and then I’m going to try to find a way out of it, whatever it is.”

Perivar knew the tone he used. He would do as he said, even if it killed him.

Perivar wanted to shout.
This is not two runners nobody liked and a quick bit of mutiny. This is the Vitae! Remember them? The ones who control half the Quarter Galaxy! The ones we spent two years ducking AFTER we got away from Tasa Ad!
But saying it aloud wouldn’t have budged Eric any farther than the silent thought did.

“This is all making my partner very uneasy, Eric,” Perivar told him instead. “The Shessel don’t really understand the spirit of human legalities, so they follow them by the letter.”

“So now I owe you,” Eric muttered.

“That’s not what I care about.”
Although it would’ve been once,
Perivar realized with a shock. “Just finish it fast. I’ve gotten used to not having to look over my shoulder all the time. I like it this way.”

“Maybe one day I’ll get to see if I like it too.” Eric kissed the tips of his own fingers and raised his hand to the ceiling.

Perivar laid his fingers over his heart. “I hope we both live that long.”

They met each other’s eyes for a silent moment, weighing, judging, and hoping, but finding no guarantees. Finally, Perivar knew he had nothing to fall back on but their old, brittle trust. It was no comfort to know Eric was doing the same.

“What are you going to do now?” Perivar asked.

Eric looked over Perivar’s left shoulder. “Ultimately, I’m going to try to crack the Vitae private network.”

“Are you out of your mind!” Perivar couldn’t hold back this time. “You might as well try to crack a mountain with your skull! Even you can’t get on a Vitae line!”

“Where else am I going to get what I need?” Eric’s calm snapped. “Knowledge is power. Somebody”—he stabbed a finger at Perivar—“told me never to forget that.”