The Summer Queen (37 page)

Gundhalinu climbed into the rover, grateful for its shelter
after walking even a few meters through the steaming heat of the day. Kullervo
and Ananke got in behind him and the door hissed shut, sealing them into its
climate-controlled womb. Gundhalinu wiped sweat from his face. The uniform he
was expected to appear in during most of his waking hours had been designed for
wear in climatized offices, not for practical use in a place like this ... something
he would have to take up with the Hegemony’s establishment when he got back to
Kharemough. He glanced at Kullervo, who had settled into the copilot’s seat
next to Niburu. Kullervo’s face was flushed; Gundhalinu had never seen him wear
anything but a long-sleeved tunic or shirt, even though there was nothing that
required him to dress formally. Gundhalinu wondered absently why he didn’t use
sunblock for protection instead.

Niburu took them up with what seemed to be effortless skill,
rising above the nervous dance of ground traffic even though the distance they
had to travel was short. Niburu seemed to know his employer’s temperament well;
Gundhalinu supposed that it was an occupational requirement when working with
Kullervo.

Gundhalinu stared out at the crazy-quilt of old and new structures
down below. It reminded him of a three-dimensional data model, showing the town’s
uncontrolled spread like some aberrant lifeform, a runaway virus, the stardrive
plasma itself ... He forced his mind away from the image, focusing on the
concrete fact of the town’s explosive growth, for which he was largely
responsible. When he had first arrived here to search for his missing brothers,
this town had barely existed. It had been the only legitimate access to World’s
End for prospectors and other riffraff foolhardy enough to dare the wilderness.
At that time it was run by Universal Processing Consolidated, the multinational
that had controlled World’s End mineral rights, and it was more a surreal
bureaucratic nightmare than a genuine geographic place existing on real-world
maps. It had not even had a name, then. Out here they called Universal
Processing Consolidated “the Company,” and this was the Company’s town.

But he had gone into World’s End, and come out of it with
news that was still sending shockwaves through the Hegemony. The shock had been
felt, the changes had begun first, here, at the epicenter on Number Four. He
watched the town pass below, the sullen core of squat, heavyset colonial
structures overwhelmed by the gleam of the prefabricated highnse hives the
government of Four had dropped here to house the influx of technicians, researchers,
and workers who were responsible for the Project and its physical plant.

Down in the warren of its streets, it seemed to be a place
completely transformed, reborn, like the future itself. But from up here he
could see beyond its perimeter, see the rank frenzy of the jungle that
surrounded it on all sides, stretching to the horizon. The jungle was
constantly trying to reclaim the earth from this infestation of alien sentience,
giving ground slowly, but never willingly .... Chaos against order. A microcosm
of life, of progress, of the human soul.

He shut his eyes for a moment, against the vision, against
the resonance it started in his memory. Tomorrow he would be going to Fire Lake
with knowledge that, gods willing, would begin to bring the Lake back from the
heart of madness, as he had barely brought his brothers back ... as he had
barely brought himself back to sanity* to civilization, the first time. He
shifted in his seat, relieved to see that they were already descending again,
falling back into the illusion that progress and order were winning.

Not that order and progress had any claim to moral
superiority, he thought wearily, as Niburu set them down on the designated spot
in the security area of the departure center. Ugliness and banality were all
that he could see, rising up on every side, as they got out of the hovercraft
and stood on the cercreted landing field. Looking down, he saw the fleshy
excrescence of some nameless fungal growth oozing up out of a crack in the
inadequately laid ceramic pavement beside his boot, chaos seeping in through
civilization’s pores. Nothing here had been built to last. It’s frightening,
the sibyl Hahn had said to him once, how precariously we float on the surface
of life.

He tugged habitually at the hem of his uniform jacket, as
the uniformed guard came toward them across the field, bristling with an array
of weapons: more a symbol than a threat, a reminder that was easy for the
average human mind to grasp of the far more subtle and effective forms of
weaponry that now defended the Perimeter, barring the uninvited from access to
World’s End.

When the Company alone had controlled access to World’s End,
getting m uninvited had been difficult enough. Now Gundhalinu was certain that
it was all but impossible. After word of his discovery had become public, Four’s
powerful World Enclave had forcibly nationalized them, with the backing of the
Hegemonic Police. Universal Processing Consolidated had been one of the major
economic forces on the planet; for the world government to take them over under
any other circumstances would have been unthinkable. Without the full support
of the Hegemony, it would probably have been impossible. But Universal
Processing Consolidated owned World’s End, where Fire Lake lay. He had found
the impossible there, and so the unthinkable had suddenly become the inevitable
....

As the security guard approached them, Gundhalinu saw how
big the other man really was; not simply tall but massive, moving toward them
with the inexorability of a landslide. Something about the guard’s broad,
bronze face seemed familiar; Gundhalinu wondered if they had crossed paths
before. Nothing in the man’s sullen expression—or lack of it—suggested anything
more than a general resentment of foreigners, which they all plainly were. He
wore the uniform of the Enclave’s military, but Gundhalinu was sure he had worn
the Company’s uniform before, like most of the workers here. Their masters had
changed, but nothing else had—except that now the totalitarian bureaucracy that
had run the lives of virtually everyone on this particular continent for a
century had even better tools of oppression, and even less fear of government
intervention controlling their excesses; because now they were the government.

Gundhalinu watched the guard raise a callused hand to make
him a grudging salute. He returned it, keeping his equal reluctance to himself.
Waves of heat reflected up from the pitiless, glassy pavement beneath his feet.
He remembered how once he had watched hands like those casually break all the
fingers of a would-be prospector, in a bar called C’uarr’s.

“Commander Gundhalinu,” he said, too brusquely, “to see
Agent Ahron “

“And them?” the guard asked, intentionally insulting, as his
black, hooded eyes darted at the three other men.

Gundhalinu felt Kullervo frown beside him. “Them too,” he
said gently. He took a step forward, forcing the guard to take one step back;
the guard turned and started away without another word. Kullervo glanced over
at him, a brief, measuring glance; but he said nothing as the guard led them
toward the administrative complex where Agent Ahron waited.

Inside they were loaded into a secured tram and sent like human
baggage through the characterless repetitions of the complex to their
destination. The distance was short, but Gundhalinu was still grateful that
they did not have to walk, under guard, like criminals. Ananke sat beside him,
staring at the identical doorways as if they were a revelation. Gundhalinu
looked across at Kullervo, who sat frowning and pulling at his ear, at the
crystal-beaded ear cuff that was one of the more obvious manifestations of his
unpredictable personal style.

Nibum sat beside Kullervo; his short legs jutted from the
seat like a child’s. Gundhalinu imagined that Niburu felt more relieved even
than he did not to have to walk this distance, since Niburu was always pressed
to keep pace, in a body that was constantly inconvenienced by the conventions
of others. He had dared to mention the matter to Niburu one day, as he had
watched him standing on a chair to access a simple data run that Kullervo had
left for him to confirm. Niburu had only shrugged in apparent resignation, and
murmured that on board his ship the proportions were to his specs, and not
anyone else’s.

Gundhahnu stole another glance at Niburu and Ananke. They
watched the color-washed walls pass, sitting in an unlikely symmetry of pose.
He had wondered to himself whether Kullervo had chosen his staff simply for
their shock value. He suspected it was possible. And yet he was almost certain
that it was not because of their appearance, but rather in spite of it, that
Reede had hired them.

The tram spat them out directly into the mouth of a doorway
that was more like an airlock leading into an isolation chamber. The security
was hardly this elaborate at the Project itself.

“Overkill,” he heard Kullervo mutter to Niburu, behind him. “What
do these shitheads think this is saving them from?”

Gundhahnu glanced back at them, his mouth curving slightly. “Spontaneity,”
he murmured. Kullervo said something unintelligible, as the inner doorscreen
demate rialized before them.

A thickset middle-aged woman with golden skin and
iron-colored hair looked up at them from across the barren expanse of room.
Gundhalinu recognized her as Agent Ahron, who had approved his departure
permits and itinerary on several previous journeys to Fire Lake. She wore a
variant of the same uniform they had seen on almost everyone they passed, and
an expression that was as familiar to him as her face: alert without being at
all interested in what she saw. There were three men with her; he knew without
having to be told why they were here. “Commander Gundhalinu,” Ahron said,
managing to give his name a slight querulous lilt, as if she wasn’t certain she
remembered his face.

“Yes,” he said, as ingratiatingly as he could, “back for one
more try. For the last time, I hope, thanks to my colleague here.” He gestured
at Kullervo, who stood stiffly beside him, eyeing the room and its inhabitants.

She said nothing, still gazing at him without the slightest
trace of curiosity. The three men stood silently behind her, like afterthoughts.

“We believe we’ve found a way to control the stardrive. I’m
sure I don’t have to tell you what that means—”

“Yes, Commander, I’ve reviewed your documents. Also your
permits and supply lists,” she said, glancing away at the display surface of
the dust-colored desk/terminal beside her. “Everything seems to be in order
here, for once. There’s no reason that I can see why you shouldn’t be able to
depart as planned.”

He realized with a prick of irritation that the “for once” referred
to his input and not Security’s response to it. “I’m very glad to hear it,” he
said, with excruciating politeness. He felt Kullervo begin to relax,
infinitesimally, beside him.

“How much time do you expect this expedition to take?”

“It’s hard to say. If the tests are successful—”

“I need a precise length of stay.” She tapped impatiently at
the display.

“Yes, of course. One week.” They should know whether Reede’s
restructuring Program worked or not almost immediately. Even with the question
of systems setup and the vagaries of time around Fire Lake, that should give
them enough slack.

“That’s all? You realize that you will have to return in one
week, whether your work is finished or not—”

“Two weeks, then,” he said, with faint impatience, “make it
two weeks.”

“All right. But in that case, should you finish your study
in less time, you will have to notify us that you are returning ahead of
schedule.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Would you please input your security clearance code, then,
to indicate your personal testimony that the data is accurate to the best of
your knowledge.”

He nodded, touching the remote on his belt, silently transferring
the code numbers to the waiting document. After a moment he heard the piercing
tone that indicated the security databank had accepted his verification.

“These will be your crew,” Ahron said, gesturing toward the
three men waiting like stones behind her—her first acknowledgment that there
was anyone else in the room.

Gundhalinu nodded, stepping forward as the three government
troopers came reluctantly to life. But Kullervo’s hand closed over his arm,
pulling him back.

“What is this—?” Kullervo whispered, suddenly angry. “You
didn’t say anything about anyone else coming with us!”

Gundhalinu looked at him, surprised by his vehemence. “It’s
all right,” he murmured, trying to find the right words to make Kullervo ease
off. “It’s government policy. They always provide the pilot and two troopers
for security.”

“We’ve already got a pilot,” Kullervo snapped, nodding at Niburu.
“And we have all the assistance we need. This is a risk-filled project. We don’t
need bumbling total strangers getting in the way. You said yourself that the
more people we have with us, the more dangerous the Lake is.”

“It’s a regulation,” the agent said flatly.

Gundhalinu watched the expressions harden on the faces of
Ahron and the three troopers. If Kullervo lost his temper, they could very
quickly lose the clearance he had so painstakingly put together too. “Agent
Ahron,” he said, sending a sharp glance of warning at Kullervo. “Dr. Kullervo
is right when he points out that a larger group would be potentially dangerous,
given the unstable nature of the Lake. We’ve lost several teams out there in
the past two years, as you know. We have a full team this time already—”

“It’s a regulation,” she repeated. She folded her arms. “A
certified pilot and two troopers for security.”

“It’s bullshit,” Kullervo muttered. This time it was Niburu
who caught at his sleeve and murmured something. “Security from what,” he added
sourly, “ourselves—?”