The Octagonal Raven (38 page)

“I can tell you what I know, but you already heard that.” My smile felt lopsided, perhaps the result of a post-reaction to the truth-nanites. “What I’m guessing is that there is a political move to take over UniComm as the first step in somehow changing the Federal Union system.”

There was a silence. “That makes sense.” She nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“Fight it.”

“Why?”

I grinned, again feeling the expression off-center. “I didn’t like the world my father liked, but he was fair. I have the feeling I’d like the world these people want to create even less.”

“What do you want from me?”

“A good securities and multilaw specialist I can trust. Plus, I’ll probably send Majora to you for a property allocation bequest as well.”

“You’re not going to fight their way, are you?”

I laughed. “How could I? I don’t know anything about fighting that way. I’ll have to fight my way.” If I could make it work.

I dropped her off at her office.

If what I were doing were scripted into a VR, then I’d be chasing all over the globe, quietly or noisily assassinating or killing one and then another of the evil pre-selects…or commandeering a spaceship and traveling to 31 Pavo and Gamma Recluci to blow up alien Gates…or something along those lines. Oh…and I’d have had it all solved before the first board meeting, and persuaded Majora to have married me by then.

The only problem was that those kinds of actions wouldn’t stop or solve anything, however much they might please those who loved bodies and blood…and nothing moved quite that fast in the real world.

Then, of course, there was the problem that I didn’t know how to stalk people, and the CAs and skytors were probably watching everything I did. I didn’t have access to clones, or to thugs who’d been carefully removed from the world database. Nor did I even know those who were after me with enough certainty even to use illegal tactics, and conventional legal remedies were impossible to employ.

I did have some brains, some talent, some friends, and, if I could keep it, the largest comm net in the world.

And Majora.

Helyna

On the way back from Kewood, I connected myself to the AllNews desk at UniComm and offered a statement. It wasn’t perfect, but this was a time when a good statement in a timely fashion was far better than a perfect statement when everyone had forgotten what had happened.

Then I called Mother.

“…Daryn…it’s late. Why don’t you have an image?”

“I’m in the glider. I just called to tell you that I’m all right. Some thugs came after me this afternoon, and there are going to be news stories, I’m sure.”

“You might consider an armored glider and a chauffeur for a time, dear.”

“I’ve thought about it, although my glider is almost that. It was after I left the glider….”

When I’d briefed her, I called Majora.

“Where are you? I saw the stories. Are you all right?”

“On the way back from Kewood. I’m all right.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And she was, right at the front door. Her full-body hug felt good—warm and reassuring…and loving. We hung on to each other for a time before we disengaged and closed the door.

“I saved everything that ran on the news,” Majora said as we moved toward her great room. “Your mother also called.”

I frowned. “I called her.”

“She was calling to reassure me, in case you hadn’t.”

I laughed. “She likes you.” Then I frowned. “But I hadn’t had a chance to tell her, about our getting married, or about my staying here.”

“She knew you’d called from here before. She’s very sharp.”

That, I already knew.

“I have tea ready, and a plate for you. I’ll run the news clips while you eat.”

So I sat and ate a very good goulash with noodles that were perfectly al dente, sipping tea and watching and listening.

The first image was that of a CA office, although not the Kewood one, and then a shot of me presiding over the stakeholders’ meeting as the narrative voiced over the image.

That was the OneCys InstaNews version.

“I’m definitely scum.” I laughed, although it was hard. “What did AllNews run?”

“It’s better,” she said, flicking a control.

This image showed stock footage of the black marble archway into UniComm, and also followed it with footage of me at the stakeholders’ meeting.

“Where do the other systems come down?” I asked.

“NEN is halfway between InstaNews and AllNews. Someone there is running scared. Most of the smaller systems are applauding you, and saying things like UniComm is big and they’ve always used their muscle, but they’ve never been deceptive, if there has to be a major netsys, then better UniComm than those who would tear it down to replace it with something just as big and far less ethical.”

“Oh…I think we’re definitely going to need to double the around-the-clock security here.” I took a last sip of the Grey tea.

“Ah…as your special assistant…I already took the liberty. I hope you don’t mind.”

I laughed.

Majora raised her eyebrows.

“We make a good team.”

“We do.” She smiled at me, then stood and refilled my cup. After that, she massaged my shoulders.

I closed my eyes and leaned back.

Kewood

The most interesting thing about the attack was that by the morning two days afterwards, there was nothing in the nets about it, even from InstaNews, and I thought I knew why. OneCys or the PST group had taken a shot, and both my response and the evidence put them in a bad light. Since UniComm had more market share, if they continued to emphasize it, so could UniComm. If they stopped, and UniComm continued, then it would look as though we had trumped up the issue. And I was again particularly grateful to the CA whose name I didn’t know for erasing a ten-second record.

Even so, it didn’t mean I was anywhere near out of the redwoods.

That was emphasized by a call arriving at almost precisely ten o’clock on fourday morning. The image was that of a perfectly groomed black-haired pre-select, wearing a gray singlesuit with a maroon-trimmed, black short jacket. I began to record as soon as the image appeared.

“Director Alwyn, this is Darius Fynbek. As you may know, I am the regional advocate general. My staff has brought to my attention a statement you made…several days ago.” He smiled warmly, the same sort of smile that Gerrat had used—the one that I detested.

“You mean, the one I made after three thugs tried to kill me and my solicitor?” My tone was pleasant, not quite humorous. “I think that’s the only public statement I’ve made recently.”

“Director Alwyn, much as I understand your frustration, according to the Civil Authorities, there is no physical evidence, nor any financial evidence, to link the attempts on your life to any person or organization. Or to any class of individuals.”

“Such as pre-selects?”

“Precisely. I am so glad you understand the situation. I would hate to suggest that a restraining order might be necessary.”

“What about my suggesting that an investigation by your office might be in order? Just a suggestion, you understand?”

“As I said, I can certainly appreciate your concerns, Director Alwyn. The Office of the Advocate General cannot dig into the private affairs of individuals willy-nilly, just because another citizen believes they have an interest in something. We cannot question people merely because they
might
have a motive for such an action. In the interest of the civil rights of all people, we must have hard evidence.”

“You do,” I pointed out. “You have hard evidence of an exploded glider, disabled scanners, thugs who have no record of existence on the Federal Union’s database. You also have DNA evidence of an exploded monoclone in Helnya, which is a class-one Federal Union offense, and a documented case of a Federal Service laser being used to attack me. None of those are subject to doubt. They constitute very hard evidence.”

“Ah…that they do. As you point out, very hard evidence. But there is one substantial difficulty with that evidence.”

I waited.

“There is absolutely no evidentiary link between that evidence and any individual or multilateral. It is most regrettable, but we cannot question people, not under the law, if there is nothing to point in their direction. That, as you may recall, is one of the key principles underlying our justiciary system, for very good reasons, given the abuses of the Chaos Years and numerous pre-Collapse legal systems.”

“I understand, and I do appreciate your making matters clear to me. I can assure you that I will work to make certain that UniComm will netcast nothing in this matter which is not absolutely factually accurate, and I will make sure that all UniComm managers know this.”

“I thought that an informal approach might yield a less…confrontational result, and I thank you for your understanding.”

“I appreciate your guidance, Advocate. I do indeed.”

We were both smiling when he broke the connection, and my smile was doubtless as false as his.

My next step was to summon the UniComm general counsel.

While I waited for him to arrive, I linked with Majora. “How’s my very special assistant?”

“Hard at work on researching those delightful souls fingered by our departed acquaintance.”

“How’s it going?”

“About the way we thought. Lots of hints, not much else.”

“I just got a warning from the regional advocate general. He didn’t like my words of the other night. Apparently, my suggestion that UniComm and I are targets of nasty pre-selects violates some law or another. Tomas will tell me which one. So we need lots of facts that are absolutely accurate, but the kind that will let people draw the right conclusion.”

“You have a devious mind….” I got the sense of that impish smile.

“That’s the beginning.” Just the beginning. “What about the CA medtech and the privacy waiver thing?”

“They’ve never heard of it being done. I gave them Nasaki’s legal opinion, and they’re studying it. I think the local advocate general will agree if she can find a reason to; she’d love to set a precedent, any precedent, that hints that waiving privacy is not an absolute right. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“If I hadn’t been through it before, I wouldn’t be, but I have to have everyone who will be on the project convinced that I’m absolutely honest about this, and I think all of them are norms. I’m on their side, but they have to believe that it’s all up front.”

“What if it leaks out?”

I laughed. “Do you think that InstaNews would dare to netcast that the director general of UniComm allowed his news staff to question him under truth nanites? And if they did, how would they react to my charge that they offer the same opportunity to their staff?”

Majora laughed softly. “For someone so direct, you do come up with devious slants.”

I looked up to see Tomas Gallo standing in my open door. “Talk to you later. Tomas is here.”

“Take care, dear man.”

“You, too.”

At my gesture, Gallo entered the office, and closed the door.

“You sounded like you needed something fairly quickly. Not that speed is unusual in UniComm.” He smiled, ironically, but his expression was far more honest than that of Advocate Fynbek.

“I do. Here’s the recording of a communication I just received.” After Gallo sat in one of the green leather armchairs, I called up the record and projected it just before the bookcases, where we both could watch Fynbek.

I liked Fynbek even less the second time through, but I just nodded to Tomas after the images faded.

“He’s going by the law, Director. He could be more accommodating, but he certainly doesn’t have to be. No media outlet, nor any employee or owner, can make or suggest a judgment that would preempt a finding by a regulatory or judicial organ. A private citizen can, but you don’t qualify as one. Nor does any member of your family.”

“All right.” I nodded. “Take this and try to get something from his superior…the secretary advocate general of the Federal Union.”

“He’ll say the same thing. If he says anything at all.”

“Record it. Or get it in writing. Get some documentation. Even if it says nothing. Particularly if it says nothing.”

“What good will that do?” Gallo’s expression was somewhere between interest and disapproval.

“It’ll save us when the time comes. Especially if you can get them to expound on the part about not acting to investigate even when a motive is obvious.”

He stood. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s all I ask.”

After he left, I just sat there for a time. My choices were limited, and getting more so every day. What else could I do? Then I nodded and placed another call.

I was lucky. Rynold Tondrol was in. He was the director general of TD Reclamation, and he had been at Kharl’s party where everything had begun.

“Rynold, this is Daryn Alwyn….” Which was a stupid thing to say because his gatekeeper and system knew who it was already.

“Daryn…I was so sorry to hear about your family.” His round face was somber.

“Thank you, Rynold. I appreciate it.” I did, since he was the first pre-select who’d even mentioned them. “Did you hear that Kharl’s going to be fine?”

“I did. I was glad that Grete and the children will be fine, too.” He smiled for a moment. “What can I do for you? I assume this isn’t just a catch-up call.”

“Unfortunately not. Your business depends pretty heavily on monoclones, I understand. Or its profitability does, I suspect.”

“It does play a part, Daryn. Everyone knows that.” He shrugged. “I wish we could do without them, but the Collapse cultures left such a mess….”

I nodded before continuing. “You know that popular opinion is, shall we say, ambivalent about monoclones. And that benign ambivalence is supported by lack of publicity on their uses?”

“That’s also a given.” He paused. “You must have a point, Daryn, but it’s too subtle for me.”

“Lately…someone has been using monoclones as walking bombs, targeted at various individuals. It’s taken me a little while to come up with documentation, but it appears as though they all come from BGP, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s the outfit that supplies you.”

Tondrol looked honestly appalled, and although I was watching through a scanned screen, I had the feeling he wasn’t acting, or not much.

“It wouldn’t take much of an outcry to require far greater restrictions—or perhaps a ban….” I said gently.

“You’re not suggesting that UniComm…”

“Right now, I’m not planning anything. I don’t like things being banned, because then they go underground and no one has any control. I am suggesting that if this misuse of monoclones continues, life will get a lot harder for both BGP and you, and probably more than a few others. This will lead to more restrictions and more rules and won’t solve any problems. Or it won’t, and more people will get the idea that the only solution to their problems is to ignore the system and take the law into their own hands. Either way, it’s not good.”

“And you’d like me to contact Emyl at BGP and see what we can do?” Tondrol’s eyebrows lifted.

“Well…if something isn’t done quickly, I’m not sure you’ll have any real options,” I pointed out.

The round-faced Tondrol fingered his chin. “I won’t promise anything, except that I’ll look into it.”

“You remember the induction tube explosion in Mancha several weeks ago?”

“Oh…that was the one…your sister…I’m so sorry.”

“That was the first public use of explosive monoclones. If BGP doesn’t put a stop to it…well…can you imagine how the secretary director might feel if someone pointed out that a monoclone could be used against anyone, including him, and that body-shields don’t provide adequate protection?” I paused. “Or how it might come out that BGP was creating people, not to do dirty jobs, but to blow up other people?”

“Daryn, you do have a way of making a point. I will look into it, and, if matters appear as you say, then I’ll talk to Emyl.”

“I appreciate it, Rynold. But you’ll benefit as much as anyone, if not more.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” He offered a twisted smile, that faded. “And I am sorry about your family.”

“Thank you.”

Again, I just looked at the cherry bookcase for a few moments.

Tondrol understood my point, but he was vulnerable. I had my doubts as to whether Deng, Escher, Dymke, St. Cyril, and TanUy had any interest in self-restraint…or the public interest.

I was fighting people who had skill and resources and patience and experience. If I tried to retaliate in kind, I’d either be dead or incarcerated, and then released as a brain-damped imbecile.

Sitting behind the cherry wood desk from which my father had enjoyed exercising power so much, I couldn’t help but wonder if the average norms felt the way I did at the moment—except I had the feeling that some had felt that way all their lives.