This Alien Shore (29 page)

Her predecessor had been different, of course. He had ruled the Guild with an iron fist, a
simba
among
simbas.
Such lack of subtlety can become a weakness, if exploited properly. Identifying such weaknesses was her own field of specialty.

Which is why she was where she was, and her predecessor was ... gone.

“So what does this tell us?” she asked him.

“That Delhi's more active than usual. I think she's got some special project going, and knowing her, that bears watching.”

She caught the cautionary edge in his voice and mused, “You think she's dangerous.”

He looked up sharply .at her. “They're all dangerous, Alya. These are the ones most likely to get your job if anything happens to you, and don't think that a day passes without them thinking about it. If something like this virus were to bring you down....”

Her expression darkened ever so slightly. “Don't think that a day goes by without my being aware of that, Dev.” She nodded toward the display. “Go on.”

“Kent's also increased his com activity. He started the day after you met with them all, before he even got back to his station. Now, he's always been the quickest to respond to any threatening situation, but in this case his speed was truly noteworthy. Perhaps it's the subject matter here which inspires him; he still thinks of himself as an outpilot, you know. No doubt he sees himself as their natural protector in this crisis ... so his activity is probably Lucifer-linked. Something to watch, not necessarily something to worry about.”

“Perhaps,” she said quietly. She considered whether she should tell him what she'd heard, and if so, how to word it: At last she said, “It's been suggested to me that Kent might be ... connected to all this.”

“Based on what evidence?”

“There is none ... yet. But it's been pointed out to me he does have a possible motive.” Her eyes were fixed on him now, and she set her brainware to record what she was seeing. It wasn't as good as a full-view cam, but it was the best she was going to get.
(Damn
this virus, which forced her to treat her own loved ones like suspects!) “It has been suggested ... perhaps his resentment over his injury....”

There was a long silence. She could read nothing in his face.

“You think he might strike at the other outpilots? Out of jealousy? Resentment? What?”

She spread her hands wide in speculation. “It's simply been suggested at this point.” She watched him for a moment, his brows drawn together in contemplation. Quietly she said, “What do you think?”

He took a deep breath before answering. “I think ... it's possible of course. Anything is possible.” He processed his own thoughts in silence for a moment more, then shook his head. “It's good we sent for an independent to help with this. Yes, Kent could be guilty. So could I. So could any of us. We'd be better off tracking this thing to its source than trying to second-guess its maker's motive, don't you think?”

“I think right now we have to do both,” she said grimly. “Which brings us to the next question, one I didn't want to ask in front of others. How sure are you of your staff?”

“Suspicious of them all, of course.” A faint glimmer of dark humor touched the comers of his mouth. “Just as you have to be suspicious of yours.”

Yes, she thought, all of her staff. Her guildmasters most of all, because they had a motive to bring her down. Her lover, because he had the means. And every programmer and pilot and secretary who served them, because Earth would pay billions to have the Guild's secrets, and someone might have wanted riches badly enough to sell out his own people. Who could she trust in this? No one. But you had to have someone to work with, you couldn't do this kind of thing alone.

God, there were times she hated this job. Not what it was, but what it had done to her. You should be able to run the Guild and still remain human. You should be able to shuck off your responsibility at the door when you came home to your lover, and enjoy the sweet refuge of companionship without being strangled by the paranoia of your office. Maybe someday she'd learn how to do that. In the meantime ... well, it was a sweet dream. He understood. Several other men hadn't, and they were no longer part of her life.

She walked into the display herself, and put a slender hand up to where Delhi's icon hung in the air. As if she could touch it. “Are they serving themselves, do you think, or the Guild?”

“Probably both,” he said dryly. “Isn't that the way it's done?”

She looked at him sharply. But there was no hint of accusation in his tone or manner. There never was.
I know how you got here,
his expression seemed to say.
I know what bodies were left behind you when you started your own rise to power.
But there was no criticism in the thought, not anything but acceptance. Perhaps even admiration. He'd have left an equal number of bodies behind him, if he'd needed to. Fortunately, his skills had made that unnecessary.

in futility.
Devlin had not had to fight so hard for his position as some others did, but she valued him all the more for that. There was still a spark of humanity in him, which the climb to power generally crushed. The day that she described her plans to him and saw horror in his eyes, that was the day she would know she had gone too far. He was, one might say, the litmus test of her own humanity. And he was priceless to her, for that reason if no other.

“Hsing will be home soon,” he told her, gracefully changing the subject. “I've plotted out his probable com pattern and will compare it with the real thing when he gets here. I expect no surprises there; he'll be too busy reinforcing his power base to worry about much else. We know the general pattern of his alliances; I don't expect to see much else out of him for several E-weeks at least.”

“And Masada?”

He started to speak, then stopped himself.

“Devlin?”

“You sure about this man?” he asked quietly.

“Sure that I can trust him, or sure he can do his job?”

“Both.”

“Well, then ...” She hesitated. How much should she confide in him? Yes, she felt in her heart that Devlin was loyal ... but she also knew that loyalties could be complex, and the only kind of Guild officer without secrets was a dead one. How much did she trust Devlin because he deserved that trust, and how much because she just needed to trust someone? It was a question that haunted her constantly.

But in this case, there really was little question. Clearly there had to be an independent investigator in this matter, she had insisted upon it. Of all the choices available he had agreed that Masada was best. If he had his doubts now, as the man approached outspace, that was only natural. Such doubts needed an outlet sometimes, and he could hardly share them with his staff.

His
suspect
staff.

She said it quietly, simply, knowing he would understand everything the one word entailed. “No.”

“You sounded very sure of yourself in that meeting.”

“I have to sound sure of myself in meetings. It's my job.” When he said nothing in response, she sighed and added, “I'm sure he won't betray us. I'm all but sure he's careful enough not to give away our secrets by accident. In his home environment there were no doubts, of course; he's one of our most trusted consultants. But the iru doesn't adapt well to new environments. And he isn't alert to all the subtle social signals that might warn you or me of trouble in the making. So ... can he be bought? No. Corrupted? I doubt it. Tricked?” She drew in a deep breath. “Possibly. That's a risk we chose to take. Let's hope it proves worthwhile.”

He said nothing, but came to where she stood, moving close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body against her skin. When she didn't move away—a necessary sign—he reached out a gentle hand and squeezed her shoulder. She shut her eyes for a moment, savoring the contact, then reached up her own hand to cover his.

“God help whoever designed this virus,” she whispered. There was hate in her voice now, a raw and venomous hate unfiltered by any polite social conventions. She treasured the fact that she could be so open with him. “Because that bastard is going to need the help of a deity when I get through with him.”

She moved closer to him then, and he put his arm around her. And for a short while, in the seat of Guild power, there was nothing but silence.

I
T WASN'T until they were well clear of the station—and clear of the traffic surrounding it as well—that Allo finally leaned back in his chair, drew in a deep breath, and said, “So. The girl. What do you think?”

Sumi glanced up briefly to see the expression on his face—it was bland and uninformative—and then looked back at what he was doing. “Not much to think yet, is there?” The Medusan's tentacles twitched slightly as they tested the air for particulate clues as to the captain's state of mind. “You think she could be important?”

“I think she could be worth money. A lot more than she herself would pay us.” He flashed a command to the commissary program: visual icon for a cup of heller tea. “Tam picked up some buzz on the high security lines right before she ran into us. That's an interesting coincidence, don't you think?”

“Could mean something,” Sumi said quietly. He adjusted one of the engines slightly, his slender fingers moving sinuously over the controls, like tentacles themselves. Sumi preferred manual switches to visual icons. Most Medusans did. “Could mean nothing.” He glanced up at Allo again. “You want to wager on it?”

The commissary port slid open, revealing a cup of steaming liquid. Despite the lo-G lid which covered most of the contents, guarding against spills, the scent of mixed spices and alcohol quickly filled the small chamber. Allo took it from the port and sipped from it, slowly. Before him, on the main viewscreen, the crowded skies of Reijik Station were giving way to the peaceful black of empty space. Only it wasn't empty, not really. At any given time there were more than a billion transmissions buzzing through that darkness, chronicling everything from a grandchild's first words to the kind of secrets that could unseat governments. Jewels in the darkness. If you pointed your receptors in the right direction, you might even pick up the skip from other nodes, messages bounced off the surface of the ainniq as a stone might be bounced off smooth water. Those were the most valuable transmissions of all. Without them the nodes would be isolated, like true planets, and no outernet would be possible. There couldn't be a universal network of data if it took years for stations to share their input with each other.

The warm drink filled Allo, and the alcohol began its work of soothing his nerves. Down in the hold the crew had enough contraband drugs stashed to buy half a station, and he was anxious to get it unloaded safely. Usually he limited his “acquisitions” to less tangible goods, but this deal had been just too good to turn down. And if they got away from Reijik Node without trouble over it, he thought darkly, that would be too good to be true. They'd gone over it five times for tracers and not found any, but that didn't mean there wasn't one. He'd done two years hard time once, for learning that the hard way.

“No betting on this one,” he said at last. He glanced back to where Tam was working—one of the Tams, anyway, the other was off duty somewhere—and asked, “Any luck on those security transmissions?”

The Belial twin shook his bald head quickly. He was short and wiry, and moved with that jerky quickness which was typical of small animals. “Not yet, boss. It wasn't logged in the usual manner. I'd say top secret, though, by the feel of it. ”

Top secret. If that was so—and if the buzz on the security lines was connected to their guest—the girl might be worth quite a bit indeed. “It'll be encrypted, then.”