Behold a Dark Mirror (35 page)

"Respecting authority will give you a career—and that's it.  Questioning authority will give you a hard time, but it has other benefits.  If it weren't for people questioning the way things are done, chances are we'd still be plowing behind a yoke of oxen."

"So, what are you after, now that your career is gone?"

They had walked to the edge of town, and the end of the sidewalk.  They continued their stroll on the outbound road.

"Like I said, freedom and a shot at happiness; and perhaps God—if there is one.  I've started on the first part—I'm making progress, I've begun paying my dues to freedom."  He looked at her intensely.  "But things are stalled for me with the second and third parts.  Happiness and God—I'm going nowhere, can't get any traction.  What about you?"

Lucretia stared at him.  "Is this an accusation?"

"Accusation?  Come on!"  Nero clasped his hands behind his back.  "I just want to know what
you
are after.  You said you love research, and that you're here to recover from a fall you took on behalf of another.  Why did that happen?  What do you want to do next?"

She looked down.  "I'm a research M.D. and I love my job.  I
am
my job, Nero.  I took a fall because the real villain was untouchable, and it cost me my license.  I'm here so I can practice again.  I'm in hog-heaven."  She displayed the black ribbon.  "This, and you..."  She paused, hesitating.

Nero raised his eyebrows.  "No, you've not hurt my feelings, Lucretia.  I realize I'm a phenomenon."

She sighed.  "There's more to Virgil than I'd dreamed of."  She stopped in her tracks.

Nero stopped, too.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Nero.  Just the devil within."

"I know about devils," Nero said.

"Hm.  I don't think you do, in my case."  She looked at him in the fading daylight.  "Even if now you may be one."  She resumed her slow stroll.

Lucretia walked just behind him at his right side;  Nero offered her his arm.  Lucretia rested her left hand on the inside of his elbow.  "Ma'am," Nero said, "have a walk with the Devil.  How's catjuice production coming along?"

"We'll have some samples from early batches shortly, it's a matter of weeks."

Nero raised his left arm in triumph.  "We're about ready to take on the world," he said, skip-jumping two steps.  "We'll need a volunteer tester."

"Rebecca Doe asked to be first."

"Who?"

"She brought Jenus into the group, apparently."

"She's still bent on taking chances, it seems."

"Well, if it works, she'll go down in history as the second person and the first woman capable of autogenic teleportation."

"And," Nero said, "is that good or bad?"

Lucretia looked at him in the semi-obscurity of dusk:  "I don't know, Nero.  As a researcher, I'm fascinated;  as a person, I'm frightened—what if something goes really wrong?  What about the rest of mankind?"  She puckered her lips.  "There's always the argument that if men should fly, they'd be born with wings.  Last and most important..."  She stopped.

"Yes?"  Nero said.

"You're making powerful enemies."

"Tell me something I don’t know."

"I'm uncomfortable," Lucretia said.

"You just said you were in hog-heaven."

"That, Nero, was the scientist speaking, the one that has her niche of happiness, but neither life nor liberty—no freedom, in the broader sense.  The career trap, laser-beam focus nothing-else-matters style, you know?  Yes, I guess you know...  That style of happiness is treacherous, it can be as addling as a street drug."

Virgil's moons were now bright enough to break the impending night.  Nero looked up:  "Should we head back?"

She nodded.  "What's the price of freedom, Nero?"

"Everything you have."  He bent to kiss her.  She responded with passion.

*

The next day, Lucretia prepared a message:

"Eugene:  this is my periodic report from Virgil.  There've been substantial developments in synthesizing catjuice.  It's not a sure thing yet, but it looks better day by day—we'll score at least some partial success soon.  On the other hand, homesteaders keep on dying as usual.  There is stronger circumstantial proof that the so-called foams are related to the existence of the unregistered life form known as Ghosts, about which I've already written to you.  I'm growing exceptionally uncomfortable about your goals;  why did you send me here?  What do you plan to do with this intelligence?  I don't know what you think about catjuice, but I believe I understand at least in part the threat it represents for you.  I also understand it's the difference between life and death for too many people.  What's at stake is much bigger than my future or of who I am—it's bigger than you are, too, but you're too arrogant to realize that.  I must live with my conscience, Eugene, and I will suspend reporting until you clarify to me, with a commitment beyond doubt, what you plan to do about all this.  I have part of what I'd bargained for:  I'm practicing, even if on Virgil rather than on the Earth.  You have part of what you bargained for:  facts you could not have known otherwise.  I think we can call it even."

She put it in cipher;  then she accessed the maintenance logs of the frameposts at Pilgrim's Landing with the code Eugene had given her.  She embedded her cipher message with the Marston-Whitney steganographic device that Eugene had also given her.  Every week, all deep-space way stations forwarded their maintenance and tuning logs to the closest ConSEnt station.  From there on, Eugene knew how to get the data.

CHAPTER 39

United News Agency

Front-page Service

From the Editor

You may remember that months ago one of our most respected columns ceased publication.  Max Hopkins, two-time
Galaxy Award
-winning author, had chosen to focus his talent on what appeared a worthy investigation;  he had also directed us to be discreet about his activity.  We are pleased now to bring you Mr. Hopkins's scoop.

Double Jeopardy

By Max Hopkins

In Brief:

Virgil is a frontier planet that represents the Tower's hope to reestablish its credibility and status as the custodian of civilization.  In this pursuit, however, the Tower is engaging in a campaign of deceit costing hundreds of lives—families like yours, adults and children alike.  Virgil is a death trap—the body count grows daily, and the Tower is the executioner.

The Whole Story:

A while ago, Ayin Najjar—the Chief Financial Officer of the Tower—called a press conference to dispel rumors that... 

Ayin's phone jig was ringing off the hook.  It had been for days, weeks—forever.  She was standing in front of the panoramic window, admiring the landscape of Bologna.  The day was particularly clear, and she could see the hills south of the city.  Closer,
Garisenda
and
Asinelli
were the tallest buildings of the old city.

She had given instructions to her secretary not to take calls or visitors;  there was little left to say to anyone.  Nemesis had come to town, and she was looking for her.

Nemesis was coming for the Tower, too.

Ayin reasoned there were powers at work that would kill the Tower.  In a way, the Tower had brought it upon itself:  too much complacency, too much fat...  She thought of herself.  She thought she was a good model of her employer—a fat bureaucrat that had flunked the most important mission of her position.

The phone rang persistently.  Ayin chose the bitter medicine and picked it up.  "Ayin Najjar speaking."

"Ms. Najjar, this is the office of Mr. Al Renzo, CEO of Industrial Refrigeration," said a meticulously trimmed face in the video.  "Please hold."

Instantly the image changed to that of a tanned, clean-shaved face:  "Ms. Najjar, what a privilege."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Renzo."

"Ms. Najjar, what should I make of the news?"

"At this time, I cannot confirm or deny, sir."

"Ms. Najjar, I'm sure you’ve heard this before, but I need stronger reassurance.  My management is in revolt—hell, my board is in revolt.  If Hopkins is right, the Charter has been blown to smithereens—why pretend otherwise?  Let me ask:  Is it true?"

"Again, at this time, sir, I cannot confirm or deny.  I'm sorry, sir."  She hung up.  The Devil, she thought, was ConSEnt, and ConSEnt was pouring the concrete for the new swimming shoes the Tower would be wearing soon.

CHAPTER 40

"...and that's all we know about catjuice," Nero said.  The sun was up, but the morning was still cool.  The buildings of Pilgrim's Hope were visible in the distance through sparse vegetation.

Rebecca, sitting on the grass, was pensive.  "Just like I'd been told.  You have twenty-four pairs of chromosomes, and that's what'll happen to me, too, if I try—besides, of course, being able to make money in bars by fooling patrons with disappearing tricks.  That is even better than a pension."

Nero raised his eyebrows, and looked at Rebecca.  "You'd be the second person to try it—and the first woman.  I did it by accident, I didn't have a clue.  You must be deliberate in your decision."

"Are you asking me to explain why I'm taking this chance?"

"Yes," Nero said, looking first at her, then at Lucretia, who sat farther away.

"Well, Superman," Rebecca answered in a huff, "I thought we were all adults here.  Yes, I understand the risks involved.  They vary from death, or permanent disablement, to literal disembodiment in case of success.  There are unknown long term consequences, and short-term monumental ego trips," she paused, brushing her hair back with her hand, "as you exemplify.  Besides, I won't be human any more.  As to my motives, I have no desire to abandon mankind as a species;  however, I look at it this way:  I'm on the older side of my prime, with no accomplishments to brag about.  My best prospects are to find a husband, settle down and have a family, and wait for the foams to eat us alive.  Except, of course, if catjuice is for real, in which case, if I'm not the guinea pig, I'll have to sit in line for my turn and hope that it comes before the foams arrive.  You know, Mr. Superman," Rebecca added, staring at Nero, "an old curse from an ancient people goes,
May you survive all your children
.  I don’t want that to happen."  She lowered her eyes.  "Are you going to take even that away from me?"

Nero clenched his teeth, hid his face in his hands.  "You're a wise woman, Rebecca," he said.  "I misunderstood."  He slowly looked up.  "When do you want to start?"

"Now, if we can," she said.

Lucretia came to sit down next to them.  "Rebecca, there are a few critical hours after you take catjuice for the first time—unusual things may happen to you, almost certainly will.  We want to be next to you at all times for a couple of days.  Can you arrange that?"

"I've done that already."

Lucretia scowled.  "What...?"

"Well," Rebecca said, "I figured from what I'd heard that there'd be some rock'n'roll, so I arranged for my bakery shift to be covered if I didn't show up."  She winked.  "Opportunity sometimes doesn’t knock twice."

"Let's go to the infirmary, then," Lucretia said.  "I've got a bed ready for you—in a private room."

"I'm beginning to like this already," Rebecca said.

*

Lucretia connected a heart monitor and poked Rebecca's vein with an IV.  "That's for medications that you may need;  I'll be right back," she said, and walked away.

Rebecca stretched her legs, and wiggled her toes, feigning delight.  "This is heaven, so far, but I'm terrified," she said, her voice breaking, "that I might wake up in hell after all."  Her hands gripped the light bed cover, her knuckles white.

"Want out?"  Nero said with intent.  "It's not too late."

Rebecca shook her head.  "No, no, no."

"This is courage, you know," Nero said.

"Thank you," she said.  "I appreciate appreciation, y’know."

Lucretia returned with a capsule:  "This," she said, "is catjuice.  Based on what happened to Nero, I estimated what a dose for you could be—but it's catjuice, not Cheshire tail.  Now," she sighed, "is a good time to pull back if you have second thoughts—you'd have all my understanding and then some."

Just then, Primus entered, his silver hair ruffled as if he'd been running.  "Ms. Doe," he said, with a slight bow, "I see I'm just in time to pay my respects."

"Hi, Mr. Lelouche," Rebecca said, attempting a smile.  "Thanks for your kidney—I'll try to make it worthwhile."  She was still gripping the bed cover, but her voice was surer.

Primus approached the bed and leaned over to pat Rebecca's shoulder.  "My child, mine is but a kidney.  Good luck."

"Thanks," she said, reaching to take Lucretia's capsule, which she swallowed with a sip of water.  "Now, I'm committed."  She relaxed on the bed:  "No more hard decisions for a while."

Primus said,  "Your valor, ma'am, makes all our efforts worthwhile.  I must go now, but I'll follow your progress."

Rebecca's cheeks blushed.  "You're a kind person, Primus."

He bowed to Rebecca, nodded to Nero and Lucretia, turned on his heels and disappeared through the door.

Rebecca closed her eyes, breathing a bit too fast.  "Am I hyperventilating?"  she said.

"No.  Your pulse is fast," said Lucretia, "which is easy to explain;  all the rest is normal.  How do you feel?"

"OK."

Nero was watching from a chair in the corner.  "Nothing should happen for a while, but who knows?  In any case," he said, pulling his chair closer to the bed, "I've got a cure for boredom here."  He produced a pocket-size game of checkers with tiny magnetic pieces.  "Who wants to play?"

"I've a few patients to attend, this seems like a good time to do it—I'm a few seconds away, if you need me," Lucretia said.

"I'll play," Rebecca said to Nero, taking the checkers set from him with trembling hands, beginning to arrange the pieces.  "I'm pretty good," she added with a mischievous nuance.

"I'll give you a run for your money," Nero said.

They faced each other on black-and-white squares without a clear winner for a while, then Rebecca collapsed without warning.

"Lucretia!"  Nero said, ringing the bedpost bell.

Lucretia appeared in the company of a pregnant Kebe.

Nero, startled, looked at Kebe.  "What...  What are you doing here—in your condition?"

"Helping Rebecca survive," she answered.