The Ophiuchi Hotline (9 page)

Vaffa was still there, and now she was holding something out to Lilo. It was a pressurized suitcase.

“You’ll have to learn about nullfields,” Vaffa said. “Nothing gets through them but something that’s encased in another nullfield. Except some of them are tuned to let in certain frequencies of light. That’s how you can see through your suit.”

Lilo was angry, but wasn’t going to say anything. She took the box from Vaffa and turned around. The mirror surface was invisible from the inside. She seemed to be looking out the end of an open shaft. As she stepped through, her suit formed around her again.

“Is this some sort of initiation?” she snapped, as she returned with her clothes. Vacuum had not done them
any good. The kilt contained volatile plastics which had begun to boil off.

“No,” Vaffa said. “Not really. Though it never hurts to get it through your head that things are different here.” She paused, and looked at the ruined clothes as Lilo took them out again. “I hope those weren’t your favorites or anything.”

Lilo said nothing.

“I’ll give you a few useful tips,” Vaffa said. Lilo looked up, vaguely surprised. Vaffa had never been the type to volunteer anything.

“For free?”

“Sure,” she laughed. “One is when you go outside, hold your hair back out of your eyes. The field will compress your hair to your head, tightly, as the air spaces in it are squashed out. If your hair is in your face, you won’t be able to see.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

“The second thing is to be careful when you’re talking. That thing in your throat will broadcast whenever you subvocalize. If you think too hard, you might find everyone listening in.”

“I’ll remember it.”

The corridor was round and looked unfinished. Someone had simply bored it out, not bothering about leveling the door. Sprayed stripes of yellow and green indicated the top and bottom, and arrows directed traffic. Lilo knew it would make sense eventually, but her disorientation was nearly total after three turns. Had she gone up or down, left or right? Was the yellow stripe the floor or ceiling? Looking into the rooms that branched off the tunnel every fifty meters was no help; furniture was attached to any convenient surface.

Vaffa took her to a medico’s shop. An unsmiling woman sat in a chair behind a desk attached to the rear wall.

“Mari!” Lilo started forward before she recalled. Then she felt the blood rush to her face. Her ears were burning.

“Yes. I understand you knew my clone on Luna,”
Mari was saying, drifting toward them. “I also know what you did to her.”

“I’m…sorry. I—”

“Don’t tell me. You didn’t do anything. Number three did, I know that, and you’re number four. And you didn’t do it to me. Nevertheless I think you’ll understand if I tell you I don’t have much to say to you. Let’s get on to business.”

Business turned out to be mostly medical. Mari tested her and began a course of treatment that would continue as long as she remained on Poseidon, designed to overcome the effects of weightlessness. Her goal was to keep all the females at the standard point nine-gee muscle-tone level. Mari believed—along with Lilo—that allowing human muscles to adapt to lower gravity states was dangerous in the long run.

Lilo was given a tranquilizer to help her through the disorientation she was feeling, taken to a small cubicle, and told to sleep eight hours, after which she would be briefed on her duties at the station.

Poseidon base was a maze of catacombs more than forty years old. It rambled through the rock like termite trails in rotten wood, and eighty percent of it was abandoned.

Lilo had discovered the empty sections of her first full day at the station, after having been told to look around and familiarize herself with the place. Some corridors ended in mirrors. When she passed through them, her suit formed around her to give protection from the vacuum on the other side.

Poseidon had been a much larger operation when Tweed had been President, and able secretly to funnel taxpayers’ money into the project. Now that he was out of office and had to rely on his own funds and those of the party, it had been cut back. Still, it was a large undertaking for one man, involving eighty adult prisoners, their children, and an indeterminate number of guards, all of them clones of the ubiquitous Vaffa.

There was no way to tell how many Vaffas there were simply because they were never all in the same place at the same time. They had their own section of the station, walled off by a nullfield that was tuned to allow them to pass, but to bar everyone else. They came in the two standard models—male and female—and they were all completely hairless. There were at least six of them,
but there could have been twice that many. It was impossible to tell how they worked the watch periods and how many remained behind the impenetrable wall at any given time.

Security was unobtrusive. Everyone was free to go anywhere on the base, with the exception of the guard room, and interference was minimal as long as the assigned projects got done. Each Vaffa carried a laser sidearm. It had been learned at great cost that the guns were effective for shooting prisoners, but useless for shooting Vaffas. They would shoot through a nullfield as long as a Vaffa wasn’t behind it. Some had tried to adjust their suit generators to screen out the laser frequency. That worked fine, but only outside when the field was in operation. And the air in your lung would only last thirty hours. When the rebels had to come back in, they were shot.

Lilo learned all this quickly. No one seemed reticent about discussing past escape attempts, and they were all willing to listen to what might be new ideas. But there was an answer for everything she proposed. The general opinion was that Poseidon was escape-proof. Lilo reserved judgment, but admitted to herself that it didn’t look good.

“But anything’s better than being in a death cell,” she said.

“I suppose so. I wouldn’t know.”

Her companion of the moment was a man named Cathay. She had met him in the mess hall a few minutes earlier when he came to sit with her at breakfast. They were the only people in the room; it was early, and Lilo’s schedule was not yet synchronized with the rest of the station.

The mess hail was one of the areas that was centrifuged, spinning slowly in a hollow in the rock. There was a larger wheel that was used as a gymnasium for running and weight lifting, and a third which held bunk rooms for those who did not like sleeping in free-fall.

Cathay was a tall, thin man. He had a lot of untidy brown hair, long legs, and a boyish face with incongruous
muttonchop sideburns. He was handsome without overdoing it and Lilo liked that, felt a definite physical attraction without having actually touched or smelled him, and that was rare for her. Physical beauty was cheap and universal with cosmetic surgery, but it tended toward about a dozen standard types. Lilo was bored with them all. Any visual stimulation she got from a man was in proportion to the degree he departed from the current, stultifying fashion.

“Then you weren’t kidnapped from the Institute?” she asked, mopping up the last of her maple syrup with a piece of pancake.

“I was kidnapped, but not from the Institute. I was
gene
napped.”

“You mean you didn’t do anything…well, to deserve being here? Would you like some more coffee?”

“Yes, please. What I did to end up here was to trust Tweed. I should have known better, but then who could have expected
this
?”

Lilo placed a white plastic mug in front of Cathay, then leaned back in her chair. She hooked her shoulder blades over the chair back, stretched out her legs, and held the warm mug on her belly.

“Okay,” Cathay went on. “I was in trouble, admitted. But I wasn’t in jail. Tweed came to me with a good offer. He said he’d…” Cathay stopped, then looked away from her. He glanced back once, sighed, and went on, not meeting her eyes.

“I’m a teacher,” he said. “
Was
a teacher. There’s no sense in trying to hide it from you. I was kicked out of the Education Association. Unjustly, I believe, but there’s no way I could prove that to you.” He looked up at her again. Lilo shrugged, decided that wasn’t enough, and smiled at him.

“It makes no difference to me,” she said. “I’m an Enemy of Humanity, remember?”

“Well, that’s mostly crap, too,” he said, easily. “You’re not the only one here. A couple of them are really nuts, but most of them are just like anyone else. They went a little too far, but it was usually from some
sort of principle.” He raised his eyebrows, but Lilo was not yet ready to talk about that. Not yet; not to someone she’d just met.

“Go on.”

“Well, Tweed said he could get me work again, teaching kids. I was really desperate. It had been five years. I
need
kids, I really do. Anyway, the deal was that I do two jobs for him. One was teaching the kids at some remote, unspecified place. The other—I
thought
the other was after I’d finished the
first
, you see—was to work for him on Pluto. He didn’t say what kind of work, and I didn’t care. After a few years, he’d let me go and see to it that I was reinstated under another name.”

“So what happened?” Lilo reached over to stir another spoonful of sugar into her coffee, hoping to mask the taste. “This stuff’s terrible.”

“Yeah, isn’t it? See, I should have been suspicious when he said he could reinstate me. That means he has access, illegally, to some pretty high-powered government computers. He can
get
things. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid I do. What did he get? Your recording?”

Cathay smiled. “Uh-huh. Turns out that all along he meant for me to do both jobs simultaneously. He sent me out to Pluto, I assume. He took my recording and played it into a clone. Me.”

“Shanghaied.”

“Exactly. There’s about ten others like me here. People who made a deal with Tweed and found themselves being awakened in a clone body.”

Lilo sipped at her coffee. “That’s really rotten. Doesn’t he have any…what? Shame? Principles?”

“I don’t know. When something is important to him, though, it gets done. One way or the other.”

“Then the rest of the people here are like me? Condemned prisoners?”

“No. There’re about fifteen. He seems to like them. The rest of the people here were stolen, as simple as that. They’re scientists, most of them. Tweed decided he
needed them. Apparently it’s easier for him to steal their recordings and a tissue sample and grow his own scientist than to abduct the original.”

“I can see the logic. This makes no waves at all. No one even knows a crime’s been committed.”

Cathay got up to refill their cups, and they sat in silence for a while as people drifted in for breakfast. No one joined them, but Cathay waved to many of the people.

“What no one’s told me so far,” Lilo said, “is why Tweed needed a genetic engineer. What will I be doing here?”

Cathay made a face. “For starters, you could breed us a better coffee plant. Can you do that?”

“Maybe,” Lilo laughed. “I’m a pretty good cook, too, and it looks like you could use one. Is that why Tweed sent me here?”

“He didn’t tell me why, actually. But if you can cook, he’s not as ruthless as I thought.”

“All genetic engineers learn to cook,” she said, forcing herself to finish the coffee. “I got my start developing a thick-shelled egg plant with a double yolk for a company on Mercury. I learned a thousand ways to cook eggs so I could save on food bills and not get sick of eating them. But you really don’t have any idea of why he wanted me here?”

“Maybe an idea. Most of the people here are planetary specialists, physicists, inorganic chemists, mechanical engineers, and so forth. Once every couple of months we’ve been running a skimmer through the atmosphere of Jupiter. We’ve been picking up some living organisms. They probably want you to work on that.”

Lilo was fascinated, but still puzzled. It had long been known that Jovian life existed, but no one had ever studied it.

“Why me? My field isn’t so much analysis as restructuring.”

Cathay shrugged. “I’m not the one to ask. But don’t get the idea there’s anything like pure research up here.
Whatever they have you doing, it’ll be aimed at defeating the Invaders.”

“It still doesn’t sound like they would want my skills.”

Cathay stood up. “What can I tell you? Tweed is sometimes more interested in the person than in the skills. That’s why he robs prisons, I’m told. He wants the oddball, not the committee mind. In a way, it’s like picking a gear for a machine because of its pretty color instead of because it has the right number of teeth.”

“Which sounds like a hell of a way to run an army. Where are you going?”

“Out to play.” He grinned. “Making my rounds. I have seventy-three pupils up here—now don’t look so surprised, things are different here—and one of them is my very own second child. Ah
ha
! Now I’ve scandalized you.”

“No, I…I’m surprised. It’ll take some getting used to. Do you mind if I tag along?” Lilo had been telling the truth; she was not scandalized, but it was a shock to hear that the most basic rule of human civilization—One Person, One Child—was being violated: that an entire community of people was breeding as it wished.

They took the elevator to the hub of the cylindrical room, then entered the corridors and moved along with easy pushes of feet and hands against the walls. Lilo was getting good at it.

She had not seen that many children. The reason, she soon found out, was that they spent most of their time in the dead areas. Cathay grabbed a lamp and she followed him through one of the nullfield barriers. Soon they began to hear voices over their radios. Then they started to encounter them, in groups of two or three, intent on their own business. They seemed to like Cathay, enough so they would tolerate being introduced to a strange woman. But she had a growing sense that they had their own society down here in the abandoned caverns. Elaborate fantasies were being played out, drawn from television broadcasts and educational comics, having little to do with reality.