The Mind Pool (20 page)

“Fifty lightyears away, unexplored. How could you possibly have tracked the Morgan Construct there?”

“We didn’t. The Angels did, and it’s a waste of time any of us asking how they did it. They insist that it’s still there on Travancore, still alive, and hiding down under some sort of continuous canopy of vegetation.”

“Doing what?”

“Doing whatever a Morgan Construct does. You tell me. You now know as much as I do, except for one more thing. The Angels sent one of our smart probes down towards the planet.”

“Bad move.”

“I know. Try explaining that to an Angel. The probe stopped signalling before it reached the surface, and never came back. We have to assume that the Construct destroyed it.”

“And knows it has been discovered.” Lotos leaned back in her chair, sipping tea from a porcelain cup that looked as delicate and fragile as she did. “It will be ready for anything that comes after it. Tough for your Pursuit Teams.”

“I’ll be breaking the news to them—tomorrow.”

“And today? Are you looking for any action from me?”

“I do not ask any. I would suggest that you decide for Dougal MacDougal what his line ought to be when he discusses this with the Stellar Group Ambassadors. And you ought to know what I am doing with your pseudo-Construct. We have the first Pursuit Team assembled and waiting, out on Dembricot: one human woman, one Tinker ten-thousand Composite, one sterile female Pipe-Rilla, and their preferred form of Angel—an experienced Singer carried by a new-grown Chassel-Rose.”

“How’s the pseudo-Construct working out?”

“It is ideal for the purpose.” Mondrian laid his empty teacup on the table Deside him. “It is, of course, an Artefact. I assume that Ambassador MacDougal does not know that.”

“He signed the approval for its use.”

“Which is not the same thing at all.” Mondrian stood up. “I have taken enough of your time.”

“One more thing.” Lotos took a slender blue cylinder from a drawer in her desk. “I owe you an information favor, and I may as well try to pay it at once. This contains a new edict from the Stellar Group. It will be officially released in three days, but I took the liberty of a preview.”

“You think it is relevant to me?”

“I know it is. And you won’t like it. According to this ruling, you will no longer outrank Luther Brachis in the Anabasis. The two of you will have equal rank and equal powers.”

Mondrian dropped back into his seat. “That’s crazy—and impossible. You can’t have two people running things. Why would the Ambassadors make a mad change like that?”

“Do you understand Stellar Group Ambassador logic? If you do, you can explain it to me. They make a rule, I just pass it on to you—a lot sooner than you would normally hear it. You will have time to make your own plans.”

“Plans be damned.” Mondrian stared right through Lotos Sheldrake for a few seconds. “When will the new ruling be effective?”

“As soon as it is announced. Three days from now.”

“Not enough.” Mondrian was silent for a longer period. “I can’t do it in three days. Lotos, I want something else from you. If you can swing it, you’ll have a big piece of equity with me to trade whenever and however you want to. Does the new ruling divide up duties?”

“Not in detail. That responsibility stays with Dougal MacDougal.”

“Then I want just two things. I want to control access to Travancore. And I want to manage the operation that will destroy the Morgan Construct. Can you arrange both of those?”

“Could be. What do I give Luther Brachis?”

“Anything else he wants. Offer him the rest of the Galaxy, I don’t care.”

“You want it that bad, eh?” The doll’s face was still calm, but the mention of Luther Brachis brought anger to Lotos Sheldrake’s eyes. “Very good. I want something, too. I’ll do my absolute best to get you what you want—if you will do something for me.”

“Name it.”

“It’s not
it
—it’s
her.
Do you know a woman named Godiva Lomberd.”

“I’ve met her. She’s a well-known figure on Earth.”

“She’s not on Earth. She’s here. Luther Brachis has entered into a contract with her.”

“You know Luther. He’s had a thousand women. They come and go. Godiva Lomberd is just another one.”

“That was what I thought, when he brought her up from Earth. A month here, at most two, and she would be gone. But this is different.
Luther is
different.”

“Different, how?” Mondrian wondered how much Lotos Sheldrake knew. Did she suspect that he had been the one who first arranged for Brachis to meet Godiva? The only other person who could have told her that was Tatiana, and she was still locked away on Horus with Chan Dalton.

“Different with
me.
” Lotos slapped her hand on the desk, rattling cups. “As you said, Luther has had a thousand women. I never gave any of them a thought. They did not affect his personality, or his work—until now. I do not like surprises, and the new Luther Brachis is a surprise. I want to meet this woman. I want to know who she is, where she came from, what she wants from him.”

Jealousy—from a most unlikely source.
“I can’t deliver all that.”

“You will not need to.” Lotos was in full control again, smiling her deadly smile. “You just arrange for me to meet her—and leave the rest to me.”

Chapter 15

The facilities on Earth were nowhere near the best in the system. For high-quality storage of living organisms, the perceptive buyer went to Enceladus, or to the Great Vault of Hyperion, where ambient disturbances were less and both bodies and maintenance personnel less corruptible.

But from the purchaser’s point of view, Earth storage provided one unarguable advantage: anonymity. Provided that the rental was paid on time (which meant five full years in advance) no one ever questioned the contents of the pallet. According to rumor, more than three thousand rightful Earth monarchs slept their dreamless storage sleep in the Antarctic warehouses. No one could ever accuse the usurpers of murder; but it would be a long, long time before the real kings and queens would be recalled from slumber to claim their thrones.

The warehouses were kept well below freezing. The two people searching the long files wore heavy clothing, thick gloves, and thermal boots. They cursed the layers of frost that made every identification tag difficult to read.

“Here we are, then.” The short, red-haired man bent over the long box and scrubbed again at the tag for a second look. He nodded to his companion to grab the other end. “This is it. Ready?”

The fat blond woman puffed out a frosty breath. “Let’s do it. I’m tired. Just this one, then that’s it for the day. Up’s-a-daisy.”

The container slid easily onto the moving railway. The man and woman walked beside it at each end, making sure that the ride out was smooth. They emerged at last into a long, white-walled room filled with medical equipment and banks of monitors. Working as an efficient team, they moved the container to one of the lone tables, broke the seals, and hooked in the pumps and catheters. The woman checked the inner identification against the work order that she was carrying.

“It’s an A label. How about that. Been a long time since we saw an Artefact coming out of the cooler. Any idea what we got here?”

The man sniffed, pulling off his thick white gloves. “Nah. Better keep a good watch on this one, though. Last time we did an A label, it was one of them four-wing dragon-fliers. We had a good laugh with that one—it was all over the lab, and nearly had a leg off Jesco Siemens before we could tie it down. Old Jesco, he couldn’t see the joke at all.”

The top and side were off the long box, and the pumps and wipers were slowly removing thick layers of semisolid jelly, warming it as they worked. A shape began to emerge. The two stared at it in fascination.

“Uurgh.” The man was leaning close. “I don’t like the look of that. It’s hideous. See them legs.”

They were staring at a pair of long, bony feet, still with thick black gunk between the knobbly toes. As they watched the rest of the figure slowly came into view. It was a male, facedown; naked, tall, angular, hollow-chested, and skinny.

“How’d you like to find
him
under your bed, eh?” The fat woman laughed. “You sure we got the right one? Don’t look like an Artefact.”

“Think so.” The man was peering at the identification he was holding, and rubbing his cold nose with a stubby finger.

“Well, I can’t see nobody in their right mind making an Artefact that looks like that—never mind waking him up.” She took a step closer and stared at the naked body on the bench. “If you asked me, I’d say this is one of the bloody inbred royals, something the family stuck down here and never wanted to see any more. I think we ought to check again.”

“I’m doing it. This writing is terrible.”

“And check that the payment was made, too. It’s getting a bit late to stick him back. He’ll be spoiled.”

The man was frowning over the label. “It’s this one, all right.” He scratched his head as the body was rotated to face upwards. “Lordy. You’re right, he’s no beauty. I liked him better the other way up. But here’s the chit. Paid in full, automatic bank draft from somebody’s final estate. Same ID marking on the container. Label, A type, Artefact by—what’s it say?—Fu—jit—su. Let’s get on with it before we freeze. If anything’s wrong, it’s nothing to do with us.”

The protective layers of jelly were almost gone. The catheters were sliding in as the last scraping was removed, and the deep-heat batteries increased in intensity. The table tilted, raising the body to a vertical position and holding it. There was a horrible spluttering cough, and a choking grunt as lungs filled with thin oil labored to expel it. With another cough a spray of brown liquid went out onto the floor. Suddenly the figure sneezed and shook its head from side to side.

“Take it easy, now.” The man stepped forward, but he was too late. Clawlike hands were scooping out the thick jelly that still filled the eye cavities. The head was massive, with a bald, domed skull. A full beard grew beneath the thin mouth, and was shadowed above by a prominent red beak of a nose.

The mouth opened, to reveal crooked teeth. “Hh-hmmm. Ah. Thank you.”

There was another violent cough. The tall figure pulled out catheters, stood up straight, and took a step away from the table. It was still naked, and splotched with thick black goo. In spite of its bizarre appearance it had a strange dignity.

“Thank you,” it said again. It looked at the two workers and took in a long, lung-expanding breath. “I appreciate your services. But now I must go. Time is short, and I have important work to do.”

It jerked into motion and headed for the door of the chamber. The man and woman looked at each other, then started after it.

“You can’t go yet,” cried the woman. “You forgot your bath—you have to have a bath, it’s the rules.”

“And your clothes!” added the man. “You can’t go out there bare-bum naked. Don’t worry about the price of ‘em, everything’s already paid for.”

But the tall Artefact was not listening. It was already out of the door, striding purposefully towards the elevators that led to the Link entry point.

Chapter 16

Chan had been on Ceres before, briefly, in transit from Earth to Horus. At that time, Kubo Flammarion had taken him to his office, shown him the big displays, and let him play with the buttons and switches. Chan had skipped for five minutes around the planets and moons known to the Stellar Group; yawned; and asked for a cold drink.

Now he was there again, in front of the same console. Tatty Snipes sat on one side of him. Kubo Flammarion was on the other, scratching his head in amazement. Instead of being bored by the controls, or idly playing with them, Chan was
studying
the board and asking questions. Loads of them.

“What about this one?” He had flicked fast through a series of images and now paused at one of them. It was a low-orbit satellite view of a dreary gray landscape, and it showed a lot more detail than most. “It’s been flagged.”

Flammarion nodded. “Certainly has. That’s
Barchan.
You’ll need to know all about it, once you pass the entrance examination. The first training courses with all team members present are held there.”

“Looks—what is the right word to use?—
parched
?”

“Sure is. Dry as a bone, almost all of it. It’s a desert world in the Eta Cass system—that’s where the Pipe-Rillas come from. Barchan is two worlds sunward of S’katlan, their home planet.”

“Can I live there without a suit? Is it—what is the word for that?”

“
Habitable.
Yes, you’ll be able to breathe the air—just—but it’s so hot you’ll wear a suit almost all the time. Want to take a look at it from ground level?”

Chan shook his head. “Later.” His eyes were already fixed on another image and his fingers danced across the board.

Tatty caught Flammarion’s eye.
Get a load of that.

When Chan had no more than an infant’s mentality, there had been nothing wrong with his coordination. Now he was operating the control board faster than Flammarion.

The older man scowled and shook his head. It didn’t fool Tatty. Kubo Flammarion had no children, and never expected to. He could not conceal his pleasure and parental approval when Chan did something new and impressive.

“Here’s another one that’s been flagged,” said Chan. “Where is it?”

The screen showed a verdant world, one where even the oceans were covered with a dense carpet of vegetation.

“That’s Dembricot, in the Tinker system.” Flammarion moved closer. “Move over a bit, and I’ll show you why the training supervisors flagged it for you.” He leaned across, linked in to a surface camera, and zoomed across to take a close-up view of a building nestled among tall, spiky ferns. “See that? Main training center for Team Alpha, before they headed out.”

“Team Alpha? Did you tell me about that?” Chan was worried.

Flammarion glanced questioningly at Tatty.

“Don’t worry, Chan, you’re not forgetting things,” she said. “I never mentioned it. My fault—but there’s been so much to pack in.”

“Team Alpha is the first Pursuit Team to complete training,” said Flammarion. “Leah Rainbow is part of it, along with three aliens.”