The Forever Hero (40 page)

Lyr tabbed the portal. Halfway into the foundation office, she realized that someone was sitting before her console.

Without breaking stride, she grabbed the pocket stunner and raised it with her right hand, coming to a halt as she squeezed the firing stud.

Thrummm!

Thud
.

The console recliner spun into the console as the intruder flashed to the left before she could readjust her aim.

Thrummm!

Crack!

The stunner flew out of her hand as the intruder, clad in some sort of black that twisted her eyes away from him, swung her around and caught her in a grip that felt unbreakable. She tried to catch a glimpse of his eyes, but he kept her firmly turned away from him.

She attempted to shift her weight, to stamp his feet, to get her elbows into play…anything. But none of her self-defense tactics seemed to work. Screaming was useless within the total soundproofing of the office.

Thrummm!

This time the stunner bolt hit her legs, and she felt them collapse under her, although the intruder continued to support her weight. She decided to stop the pointless struggle and see what developed as her assailant, who scarcely seemed any taller than she was, bound her hands behind her and set her on the single settee.

“Stop being ridiculous.” The light baritone voice sent a chill through her. She had met him before. The question was when, or where.

“Ridiculous? When there's an intruder using my console?”

She tried to twist her body to catch sight of his face, but he had kept one hand on her shoulder, and without any control of her legs she could not override his light grip.

“Exactly. Are you the only one empowered to use the console? Do you shoot and then ask questions?”

“Only the trustee has the right to use this equipment. And he's never—”

“Ah, Lyr. I interviewed you, give you instructions, and you don't even recognize my voice. Even if it has been a few years, I expected better.”

She shivered. Had he been the interviewer? And had the interviewer actually been the anonymous trustee?

“You never said you were the trustee. Am I supposed to ask every common thief, ‘Oh, pardon me, are you supposed to be here?'”

She tried to squirm around to face him, but he had not let go of her shoulder.

“Ha!” The single harsh bark resembled a laugh. “Point. Point for you.”

“I would like a bit more than points.”

“Who else could have given you the access codes?” His voice softened. “And how could anyone have gotten through your defenses without a trace unless they knew the system?”

She was silent for a moment. Finally she responded. “You honestly expected me to think about that when I saw an intruder?”

“Perhaps that was expecting too much.”

His tone made her feel guilty, and then angry as she rejected the guilt for being human in her reactions.

“I quit! Right now!”

“If you wish…but I won't accept your resignation until we're through talking.”

“I told you. I quit.”

“Fine. But we're still going to talk. You're not going anywhere under your own power for a few minutes, at least.”

Lyr said nothing.

“While your financial management has been excellent, outstanding in fact, I have not been as pleased with your grant policy. Came to suggest some changes.”

“I followed the guidelines, exactly as outlined.”

“Lyr,” answered the soft voice with the hint of iron behind it, “what is past is past. No time to argue. Only to change.”

“I'm not arguing.” She worried her lower lip. “What were you doing here?”

“My job. I have access here whenever I want. Access built into the system. If you changed that, which would be most difficult, your own employment would have been automatically terminated.”

The hard sound of his last sentence gave her the impression that more than her employment would have been terminated.

She could smell him, like the faint scent of wild grass, although
only his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. She ignored the scent, pleasant though she found it.

“You never did say what you were doing here.”

Instead of answering, he picked her up from behind as if she weighed no more than a small child and carried her the half a dozen steps across the antique carpet to the swivel chair. He placed her in the seat in front of the console. His arm reached across her and tapped the keyboard, his fingers even faster than hers would have been.

“Revised Grant Guidelines”—that was the title that lit up on the screen.

“If you hadn't decided to work in the middle of the night—”

“It was only 2110.”

“—you would have found them waiting for you in the morning. As you have on a few other occasions.”

“That was you?”

“None other.”

“Why all the secrecy? Who are you? Why don't you want anyone to know who you are?”

By now Lyr was not angry, but furious. She'd nearly stunned her real employer because he'd believed in sneaking around with cloak and stunner, and she could have risked her job and life if she'd toyed around with the wrong parameters in the foundation's information and control network. To top it off, he had handled her—her!—as if she were a child, mentally and physically.

“You're angry.”

“I am angry. You're right. This time you understand. I am very angry.” She forced herself to space out the words, to keep her voice low and even.

“I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me nothing except back pay. I quit. Remember?”

“Didn't accept your resignation. Yet.” He paused. “Offered an apology. What else will it take to get you to listen with an open mind? To remember that the foundation is not your private fiefdom?” He laughed softly. “You've already reminded me that it's not mine.”

“How about some honesty? I know. You've never lied. But there's too much hiding, especially now. Anonymous calls over the screen I can take, but not anonymous intruders sneaking around my office. I'll think,
think
, about reconsidering once you've shown me who and what you are.”

“Still better you don't know. For you. For the foundation.”

“I'm beyond someone else deciding what's better.”

“You're sure?”

“Sure enough to quit on the spot.”

“You're right about one thing. I haven't been totally fair.”

“No. You haven't. You expect me to guess what you want or what the founders of the foundation want, then you change the rules without even telling me why.” She sighed, once, twice. “But you're right in a way, too. You know I don't want to quit. But I will.”

“Unless?”

“First, untie me. Then we'll talk. Then I'll decide.”

He said nothing, but she could feel him bending over her, and his hands touched hers. His were warm against the coldness of hers, with their impaired circulation. The bonds fell away.

She gripped the arms of the swivel and straightened herself. She did not turn around.

“I would like to see you, face to face, but I don't want to jeopardize my life or my future by doing so.”

“Let's talk first. I'll try to answer your questions, and leave the decision in your hands when we're done.”

“In my hands?”

“After I've answered your questions, you decide. Fair?”

“Fair enough.”

“Your first question. Why the secrecy?” He paused, as if to gather his thoughts. “Most important. The fewer people know the foundation exists and what it does, the better the chances for its success without interference. Two people is about the maximum for keeping a secret. You and me. Second, in my own obscure way I am extremely controversial. So controversial I believe considered as possible Corpus Corps target. Third, what you do not know, you cannot reveal. More important, cannot be hurt for it.”

Again he paused. “There are other reasons. Those are the most important.”

“Secrecy implies that there is opposition. That indicates there is a purpose behind the avowed goals. What is it?”

Lyr could sense him behind her, but kept her eyes in front of her.

“The purpose behind the goals? I may have one, but that's not the same as the foundation. The foundation is set up to do exactly what it is doing. To try to develop biological techniques for improving or reclaiming the environment. Low cost ones. Not that the research has to be low cost, just the eventual techniques.”

“You're convinced about that?”

“I know that. I wrote the goals.”

“What about you? You said your goals weren't the same as the foundation's. What are they?”

“My goals? Not sure they affect what you do.” He sighed. “But you'll claim that they do. And the foundation needs you. So…”

The silence drew out.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you were right. I am interested in your goals for the foundation.”

“In a nutshell, I have a strong personal and vested interest in the successful application of the foundation's techniques. Call it, if you will, the only way I can reclaim my heritage.”

“Sounds rather dramatic.”

“No. Just truthful.”

“What else?”

“That's it. The foundation has to be successful. That, or some other entity, or me personally. Need bio reclamation techniques. Believe me or not, that's it.”

Lyr could sense the exasperation behind the words, an exasperation that indicated truth, if not the whole truth.

“Did you set up the foundation?”

“No. I know…knew…one of the founders.”

“Would you tell me who?”

“No. Condition of being trustee. Not to tell anyone.”

“Where does the incoming funding in our blind account come from?”

“It's an account which channels dividends, interest, from a large portfolio. Totally legitimate.”

“How would I know?”

“The firm handling the account is Halsie-Vyr.”

“The Halsie-Vyr?”

“Yes. Think about it. The Imperial Treasury verifies our receipt of funding by matching our blind account number against the one to which Halsie-Vyr deposits. Treasury insures that to make certain taxes are paid. Information stays confidential.”

“How could it?”

He laughed. “What I asked. Star in the sky principle. Last time there was a public report, five years ago, Treasury reported 100,000 blind trusts with assets over ten million credits. Safety in numbers. Who could match? Depository bank only knows that Halsie-Vyr deposits and that deposits are posted to another account number in another bank. Treasury doesn't care, so long as they get their cut.”

“Cynical, aren't you?”

“No. Creating the foundation wasn't my idea. Presented to me as sort of legacy. Came unasked and unanticipated.”

“You have another occupation, then.” Her statement was more seeking verification than inquiring.

“Yes. That's why the foundation needs an administrator of independence and nerve.”

She almost turned to catch a look at him, but stopped herself, looking instead at the knotted Targan wall hanging in the right corner, just beyond the portal. Its curves seemed to fade into oblivion, yet twisted back upon each other with abrupt changes in the thread colors.

“What was wrong with my grant policy?”

“Too conservative. Need to take chances. We'll lose credits. Know that, but best chances lie with the researchers and professors outside the clear mainstream. Someone not tied to orthodoxy. The kind others say, ‘He's brilliant…strange…never know where he's going.' That sort of thing.”

“How do I tell who's unorthodox and who's fractured?”

“Design a questionnaire, as a condition of grant application. Make it simple. ‘How do you propose to solve your problem, Honored Scientist?' ‘What science or evidence do you have to support your theorem?' If you make it too complicated, too orthodox, the really creative types won't play, and you'll get lots of second-raters who are first-rate at filling out forms.”

“I think I get the idea. How do I know, with a limited scientific background, what's good?”

“After you've read several hundred, you'll know.”

“Are you willing to waste all those creds while I learn?”

“Won't be wasted. Not if you learn. Some things can't be done any other way.”

“The foundation…you really are looking for a pure research solution, aren't you?”

“No. Looking to support research that will lead to practical solutions. Simple ones.”

“How simple?”

“Spores that break down chlorinated organics. Plants that reclaim poisoned land. Biological solutions that primitive or resource-poor cultures could use.”

“Primitive cultures haven't poisoned their lands,” Lyr objected.

“Not yet. Not in the Empire. Foundation has to look forward and back. Could use Marduk, if we could reclaim it.”

“Don't tell me—”

“No. No one knows how long ago that was.”

Lyr rested her head in her hands. Her legs were shaking as the muscles contracted involuntarily, trying to rid themselves of the paralysis imposed by the stunner.

“Nothing makes any sense. You don't make sense. I can't even ask questions that make sense. You won't answer the ones that would help me understand.”

“Such as?”

“Who are you?”

“How about starting with what I am?”

“That's a start.”

“Mid-grade officer in Imperial Service. Technically, I can serve as a trustee of an Imperial chartered foundation, but cannot permanently administer a trust.”

“How can you keep who you are a secret?”

“I don't. Same star in the sky principle. My name is on the foundation charter. Charter lists are not subject to public search. The bureaucrats who monitor foundations and trusts are not the same bureaucrats who monitor officers of Imperial Service.”