Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 (53 page)

"Because
you
all
worked
together,
and
you
trusted
each
other."

"You're
right,"
she
said.
"But
it's
also
true
we
were
smart."

"And
you
were
motivated."

"'Motivated'?"

"I
mean,
you
were
all
hungry,"
he
said.
"You
all
grew
up
feeling alienated,
as
if
you
were
outsiders
on
the
various
worlds
you
lived on.
You
resented
that."

"I
hadn't
thought
of
it
quite
that
way,"
she
said.
"But
you're right:
we
were
angry,
and
we
were
united
in
that
feeling.
It
made
us
family
r

"I
know
that
feeling,
too,"
he
said. She
calmed,
looking
across
at
him.

"I
believe
you,"
she
said.
"You're
telling
me
that
your
Others
are like
my
Others."

"At
least
in
some
ways,"
he
said,
nodding.
"But
then
what
happened?"

"We
did
too
well,"
she
said.
"People
started
noticing,
and
investigations
were
suggested."

"Did
you
make
enough
mistakes
to
make
investigations
dangerous?"

"I
don't
think
so,"
she
said.
"But
it's
possible
we
made
a
few— we
started
when
we
were
young,
and
we
were
inventing
our
roles
as we
went
along."

"Then
what
was
the
problem?"

"We
were
getting
older,"
she
said.
"We'd
been
successful,
and
we wanted
to
enjoy
what
we'd
earned
without
having
to
worry
about outsiders
interfering
with
our
lives.
Some
of
us
had
children
..."

"And
you
were
still
unsatisfied,"
Bleys
said.

"What
do
you
mean?"

"It
wasn't
as
good
as
you
thought
it
would
be,
being
rich
and powerful,"
he
said.

"How
can
you
possibly
know
that?"

"It's
the
way
Ceta
works,"
he
said.
"This
planet
is
dominated
by old
money;
they'd
never
have
accepted
you
newcomers."

"You're
making
it
too
complicated,"
she
said.
"We
were
just
tired." "So
you
went
underground?"

"We
were
always
underground,"
she
said.
"Maybe
we
went
further
underground.
But,
yes.
Some
of
us
just
retired—a
few
even moved
off-planet.
Those
who
stayed
active
made
more
use
of
surrogates.
And
over
time,
the
name
'Others'
began
to
fade
from sight."

"Aided
by
the
innocence
of
those
social
clubs
you
set
up,"
he said.

"Yes.
Anyone
investigating
the
Others
had
to
stumble
on
those groups.
They
could
investigate
the
clubs
all
they
wanted,
because there
was
nothing
there
to
find—until
you
and
your
brother
came along,
and
all
of
a
sudden
the
social
clubs
were
being
looked
at
by outsiders
again."

"So
you
infiltrated
our
Others,"
he
said.
"Why?"

"At
first,
just
to
find
out
what
you
were
up
to,"
she
said.

"What
did
you
think
about
what
you
found?"

"It
was
interesting,"
she
said.
"We'd
only
been
looking
for
money but
we
learned
you
people
have
more
than
that
in
mind."

"So
you
decided
you
wanted
to
get
in
on
that,
too?"

"Maybe,"
she
said.
She
shook
her
head,
a
small
smile
on
her
face.

"We
were
divided
on
whether
we
could
even
take
part,"
she
continued.
"It
seemed
clear
you
were
a
lot
more
dangerous
than
the
organizations
we'd
infiltrated
in
the
past.
We
were
still
undecided what
to
do—we
were
just
going
along
for
the
ride
to
see
where
it would
take
us—when
you
came
along
and
ripped
the
whole
thing open."

"So
why
didn't
you
just
join
us
openly?
Why
try
to
manipulate our
people?"

"Remember
who
we
are,"
she
said.
"Most
of
us—those
from
our original
group—are
older.
It's
true
we
have
some
younger
people, largely
the
children
of
some
of
our
original
members,
but
the
heart of
our
group
lies
in
the
original
members;
the
younger
ones,
with
a few
exceptions,
just
don't
seem
to
have
the
same
drive
we
did....
Maybe
it's
just
they
didn't
have
the
same
kind
of
lives
we
had."
She looked
a
little
sad
for
a
moment,
but
then
seemed
to
shake
it
off.

"But
we
of
the
original
group—the
older
ones—we'd
been
together
for
decades,
and
we
couldn't
break
away
from
each
other,
to try
to
join
some
larger
group.
Besides,
we
were
too
old
to
be
accepted in
your
training
program.
All
your
people
would
have
given
us
were subordinate
positions."

"Subordinate
positions
were
what
you
started
with,
back
when
you first
started
working
together,"
he
said.
"That
was
right
up
your alley—you
all
know
exactly
how
to
take
advantage
of
such
positions."

"You
mean,
how
to
take
advantage
of
the
people
who
employ
us to
carry
out
part
of
their
work,"
she
said.

He
nodded.

"Yes,"
she
said.
"We
found
those
of
your
people
who
were
lazy, who
would
be
happy
to
let
us
take
over
part
of
their
work.
And
we learned
how
to
do
it."

"So
you
let
your
bosses
live
the
good
life,
while
you
and
your people
wrote
the
reports
that
were
being
sent
to
us."

"Yes."

Suddenly,
he
felt
as
if
something
had
changed—as
if
she
had tightened
up
inside.
He
had
seen
no
alteration
in
her
face
or
her body
language—at
least,
not
one
he
could
recall
noticing—so
he
had no
idea
what
signal
had
come
to
the
attention
of
his
subconscious. But
he
knew
he
had
stumbled
on
something
that
was
important— important,
at
least,
to
her.

For
a
long
moment
he
only
looked
at
her,
silently.
Then
he
raised his
head,
emphasizing
his
advantage
in
size;
and
when
he
spoke, the
sympathy
was
gone
from
his
tones,
replaced
by
an
authoritative voice
that
he
had
learned
while
growing
up
exposed
to
the
leader-oriented
religious
culture
of
the
Friendly
planets.

"Tell
me
why
you
did
that,"
he
ordered.

She
seemed
to
recoil
a
little.

"Did
what?"
she
asked.
"I
already
explained—"

He
interrupted
her
harshly.

"The
reports,"
he
said.
"Why
was
it
important
to
you
to
have control
of
their
writing?"

She
seemed
now
to
be
at
a
loss
for
words.
He
let
the
silence
drag on,
openly
watching
her
face.
It
seemed
to
fluster
her.

After
another
moment
he
leaned
back
in
his
chair,
altering
his body
language
and
tone
of
voice
to
project
an
impression
of
sympa
thy.

"Then
let
me
answer
that,"
he
said.
He
smiled
at
her,
a
smile that
held
just
a
hint
of
sadness.

"You
wanted
to
control
as
many
of
the
reports
as
possible,"
he said,
"because
you
wanted
to
try
to
stop
certain
things
from
being reported
off-planet."

"That's
absurd!"
she
said,
seeming
to
recover
her
strength. "What
could
we
be
trying
to
hide?"

"What,
indeed?"
he
said.
"You're
about
to
repeat
to
me
that
you and
your
people
have
no
loyalty
to
anyone
on
this
planet
but
yourselves,
aren't
you?"

"That's
right,"
she
said,
defiance
in
her
voice.
"We
were
just criminals
who
preyed
on
these
people.
What
do
we
care
whether you
find
out—anything—about
any
of
them?"

He
nodded,
maintaining
his
smile
in
silence.
The
defiance
faded from
her
face,
to
be
replaced
only
by
a
neutral
expression.
And
the silence
dragged
on
in
a
contest
of
their
wills.

It
was
Bleys
who
relented,
after
some
minutes.

"By
now
you,
and
your
friends
back
in
the
conference
room,
are probably
wondering
what
we've
got
planned
for
you,"
he
said,
his smile
becoming
broader
and
showing
a
certain
wryness.
But
she showed
no
reaction
to
that
implied
threat.

"Nothing,"
he
said.

As
her
silence
continued,
his
smile
softened,
and
he
went
on.

"It
took
us
only
a
couple
of
days
of
research
to
figure
out
who
you were,"
he
said.
"Your
people
did
a
good
job
of
hiding
their
tracks, and
yours;
but
they
couldn't
completely
erase
the
historical
records— for
that
matter,
when
they
did
manage
to
erase
historical
records, the
process
left
holes
that
were
themselves
evidence
of
your
group."

Now
her
face
registered
a
slight
apprehensiveness.

"We
think
we'll
be
able
to
track
down
every
member
of
your group
who's
become
a
member
of
our
staff,"
he
said.
"All
staff members
have
to
submit
resumes,
identification,
and
photographs, and
all
of
you
did.
But
the
staff
members
we
checked
on,
including
you,
didn't
show
up
more
than
a
few
times
in
this
planet's
records
of three
decades
ago—not
even
in
the
most
innocent
of
ways—and not
much
in
the
time
since." He
shook
his
head.