Cherryh, C J - Alliance-Union 08 (129 page)

"No," Justin said; and seeing the look of suspicion on the man's face: "Please."

"Police," the man said into the receiver.

Justin turned and left, moving quickly into the crowds, dodging away, heart pounding. The strength the breakfast had lent him was gone. He felt the stiffness and the sprains, and his skull ached. He found himself farther down the corridor than he had thought, found another gap in his memory; and looked behind him in panic.

There were police at the intersection. He saw them look his way.

He turned back again and dived down a stairs:
Subway,
it said. He jostled past other walkers, came out at the bottom.

"Hey," someone yelled behind him.

He ran, out onto the concrete rim, evaded a headon collision and dodged around a support column.

People dived away from him, scrambled out of the way in panic: the whole strip was vacant. "Stop right there!" a voice thundered behind him, and screams warned him of a weapon drawn.

He dodged wildly aside and something slammed like a fist into his back; but he saw safety ahead—saw the black of Reseune Security, a man yelling:
"Don't shoot!"
and a gun in that man's hand too, aimed toward him.

But a numbness was spreading from his shoulder across his back, and balance went. He fell on the concrete, conscious, but losing feeling in his limbs.

"I'm Justin Warrick," he said to the black-uniformed officer who knelt down to help him. "Call Ari Emory."

And: "No," he heard the officer say, not, he thought, to him: "This man is a Reseune citizen. He's under our authority. File your complaints with my captain."

They wanted to take him to hospital. They wanted to take him to the Novgorod police station. They told him that it had not been a bullet but a high-velocity trank dart that had penetrated his shoulder: "I'm very glad to know that," he said, or tried to say, past the numbness of his mouth. And was equally relieved when the agent told him they had reached Ari, and that
RESEUNE ONE,
already on the runway, had turned back to hold for him.

"I'll walk," he said, and did, facing the climb up the passenger ramp; but Florian had come halfway down to help him and Ari was waiting at the top, in the doorway, with the frown he expected.

Ari put her arm around him when he made it through the doorway; so did Catlin, fending away other Security personnel; and steered him for the nearest seat. But he stopped, resisting their help for a moment, scanning the group of Security staff for Abban or for strangers. "Who's back there?" he asked. "Ari, who oversaw the plane, do you know?"

"The pilot and co-pilot," Ari said, in a voice only a little less hoarse than his. "And staff we're sure of."

"Abban—"

"Dead," Catlin said, and patted his shoulder. "We're onto it, ser. Come on."

He let go the seat then, eased himself into it, leaned back and stared at Ari in a dull, all-over malaise as she sat down opposite him. "Thanks for holding the plane," he said between breaths.

"Where in hell were you?"

"Went shopping," he said, as the door thumped to and sealed. For a moment he was disoriented. "Sorry." He knew her suspicions—and Florian's and Catlin's. He felt a dull surprise that they let him this close to her. "I wasn't anywhere. I got disoriented. Wandered off." The plane began to move, pale landscape swinging past the windows in the edge of his vision. "I just walked until I knew I was in the tunnels; and I found Security and I told them find you."

"That's not half of what I hear. Novgorod is real nervous about people acting odd around the subways."

He shut his eyes, just gone for the moment, exhausted, and the seat was soft, comfortable as a pillow all around him, while he was trying to organize his thoughts. The engines began to drown out sound, a universal white-out. Someone leaned near him and drew the belt over him. He looked up at Catlin as the catch snapped. The plane was gathering speed. Ari was belting in. Catlin and Florian dropped into the seats by him.

The takeoff had a peculiarly perilous feel. Maybe it was the drug that dizzied him; maybe it was the steep bank the pilot pulled, an abrupt maneuver unlike anything he had ever felt. He gripped the arms of the seat, remembering the chance of sabotage, remembering the fire—

"Wes, back there, is a class one medic," Ari said to him, raising her voice over the engine-sound. "He's got the equipment. When we level off we can get you an almost-real bed. How are you doing?"

"Fuzzed. They shot me with numb-out." He tried to focus on here and now, the list of things he wanted to ask her. "Giraud—Jordan—could be in danger."

"I'm head of Security at the moment," Ari said. "I'll tell you—I'm quite aware of our problems. I went to the Bureau, I laid the problems out, and when we land we're going to call Family council—that's why I desperately want you there. For one thing, you've a vote. For another, you can probably tell things I can't, about what's gone on all these years."

"You're challenging Denys?"

Ari nodded. "I'm bringing your father in. He's already left Pytho.
That
was for his protection, to get him home where there are witnesses. I could divert the plane. But that would tell too much. Say that I can hide certain orders from Denys. Not a whole plane. It's due in at 1500. We're projecting arrival about 1400. We're running that close. I can stall its landing, divert it to Svetlansk or somewhere,
after
we've landed. I hope to have Denys thinking I'm coming back for safety reasons. But he probably won't accept that."

He had thought he had had all he could take, already. He sat there with adrenaline pouring into his exhausted system and wondered why he was relatively calm.
We're going to die,
he thought.
Somewhere along this—they're going to get us. Somewhere in the networks of Security orders, the airport, the military—the Bureau—House Administration—

"The first thing he'll move on," he said, "is my father and your friends. And they haven't got a way of finding it out."

"I sent Amy a very simple message this morning. It contained a codeword. There's a good chance she's been able to warn the others: she's on Base One right now, and that's a lot of defense in itself. Don't worry."

"God." He took several slow breaths. "Why are you trusting me?"

Ari gave a one-sided smile—her predecessor's expression, so like her it affected his pulse rate. "I could say, because you know how safe your father and Grant are with Denys right now. Or because you made your choice when you told them to call me. —But the real reason is, I always could read you—better than anyone in the House. You're my friend. I never forget that."

"You choose a damned peculiar way to show it."

The smile hardened. "I choose what works. I don't get my friends killed letting them run into a situation I can see and they don't. I don't argue about some things. I'm self-protective as hell. But you're special with me. You always have been. I hope we never come to odds."

He felt a profound unease at that. And reckoned she meant him to.

"I want to help your father," she said. "But you have to keep him from bringing this to Council. You have to get me the time. Give him time to know
me,
not the Ari he remembers."

"He'll do that for me."

"He won't trust you."

That hurt. It was also true. "But he'll give me the time. He won't betray his friends, but if
I
ask him I can get that from him. He is reasonable, Ari. And he does care what happens to me."

"That's clear too." She leaned her head back, turned her face toward Florian, beside her. "Tell Wes come help him. I'm going to trank out about half an hour. I've got to have it."

Justin thought the same. He unbuckled, levered himself out of his seat, and let the Security medic take his arm and steady him on his way aft.

Grant rested his head on his hands and wiped them back through his hair. "Here," Quentin said, and offered him a soft drink from their own kitchen. "Thank you." He took it and sipped at it, sitting on the couch, while Amy Carnath pored over the output that they had linked up to the living room monitor.

Justin was all right; the plane was up. They were on their way back; the worst of their fears had not come true; but they were not home yet.

Ari had stalled the press conference till dawn, putting out bulletin after bulletin, each more appalling than the last, until she had come on herself and fueled a whole new set of speculations—
not
laying it indubitably to the Paxers, but by implication taking into Khalid, perhaps even intimating the existence of high-level complicity, virtually declaring for office—

Then, after the news conference, a message came through Base One to sera Amy, and Base One started pouring out instructions. . . .

Amy, this is Ari, via Base One. This is all pre-recorded, so you can't talk back and forth, just listen and do this.

Something's happened. I can't know what in advance, but if you're getting this, something drastic will have happened, and I'm either in hospital, dead, or somewhere outside Reseune and in trouble.

First thing, protect yourself.

Second, the warning flasher we talked is out over the House system now, so everybody knows to take precautions.

Help them if you can. Base One is now available for you to use on Florian's and Catlin's level, and that means you can get information and perform operations without leaving a flag even for Denys or Giraud. The Help function is under Tutor if you need it.

I don't think they'll go at you. They know Base One uses lethal force. I don't advise your taking other people up onto the floor, but use your discretion in extreme need.

Don't use Base One to request information outside Reseune. I can, but for various reasons I haven't incorporated that routine under this access—mostly that it's hard not to give yourself away. I've encoded every single contingency I can think of and if I've activated this, I've probably fired you off a list of pertinent items via a code transmission in the net to Base One.

As follows:

Assassination attempt; from inside Reseune; Jordan Warrick; not involved; Jordan Warrick moved; to Reseune; trust Grant; but; Justin Warrick; whereabouts uncertain; in Novgorod; watch out for; Denys.

Grant drank his soft drink and stared bleakly at the computer flow, codes, mostly, which he could not read, which, very likely, Amy could not read, but the advanced system which had annexed their home unit very probably did read, and Base One answered Amy's questions.

"Damn," Amy said.

Grant did not like that. He waited for illumination, and finally got up, but Quentin's instant, wary attention dissuaded him from taking a step in any direction.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. "Sera?"

"Oh, damn!" She spun her chair around. "Security's just gone off-line. The whole net is down."

"Denys is aware," Grant said with a cold feeling; and then saw the black screen come to life again.

This is the House System emergency function. Someone has attempted interrupt. The Bureau has been notified and the interrupt documented.

The System is now re-integrating. Source of the interrupt: Security main offices.

Control of the System has now passed to Ariane Emory.

All Security personnel, stand by further orders through normal channels: Security main offices are downgraded to: Unreliable; House Administrative offices downgraded to: Unreliable; control re-routed to: RESEUNE ONE.

"God," Grant breathed, and sat down.

"Well, Denys has done it," Ari said, and leaned back in her seat, watching the system-flow transit the briefcase flat-screen, Florian and Catlin reading over her shoulder.

"That sounds like my predecessor's work," Florian said. "It might well be. And mine. —I'm surprised at Seely letting Denys try that."

"Seely is likely following orders," Catlin said. "Seely would have advised against it."

"Might not be there?"

"Might not," Catlin said, "but mostly, I think, they're preparing to defend the Administrative wing."

"Makes sense," Florian said. "The system may have downgraded his Base, sera, but I'm sure he's already gone to manual on those locks."

"Negotiation's what he's aiming for. He has absolutely nothing else to gain.
Denys
wants to be immortal.
Giraud
is down there in that tank, and Denys can't keep his hand on everything."

"Security won't like to be used against the House," Catlin said. "Abban I can understand. Seely I can. Some of the others—"

"Yakob?" Florian suggested.

"Could
be odd tape. Could be odd tape on that whole senior wing. They've had twenty years to do it. I don't trust any of them."

"Don't count the Administrative systems as gone, sera," Florian said. "There could be a way—check and see if there's any order for Q system equipment credited to Administrative."

"Security 10: acquisitions: Administrative: computer equipment: search. —Why? You think that could have been the tamper in Security?"

Florian leaned on her seat-back, nodded vigorously as she looked up over her shoulder. "Acquisitions might not turn it up either," he said. "You can rig modules you could port in a suitcase, right down to the memory. Giraud could do it, easy. Right past Decon and everybody."

"Security 10: widen search, last item: computer equipment: twenty-year range: search. —You're right. Denys isn't stupid—even about the House systems. It makes damn good sense: divert Base Two to an alternate system, outflow without respecting any command-level inflow—like a one-way filter, to shut out the House system and still run it?"

"It's more complicated than that, but that's generally the idea. Your predecessor was full of tricks. He'd know there were protections—"

"He
does
know. What about airport defenses? Can we get in there?"

"As long as we have affirmative control while we're going in, and it's talking to us," Florian said, then shrugged. "Unless that system can do something I can't figure. It's always possible. Jeffrey BJ's supposed to be in charge at the airport, and I don't know there's anything wrong with him; but I'd say the best thing to do is check the flight schedules, make sure nothing's inbound, and then use the override to reorient and then lock down: that way if Denys' Base is going to touch anything off it won't hit anything."