Medusa in the Graveyard Page 6
I leveled my gaze at Lee. Medusa would monitor his vitals, and notify me if changes indicated deception.
Lee seemed to have shrugged off the cultivated neutrality he had demonstrated at our first meeting, so I turned my attention to Captain Thomas. Medusa and Octopippin may have startled her, but she recovered quickly. “Oichi Angelis?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
I smiled. “Thank you for coming. Please be comfortable.”
The shift captain backed away, and the doors closed behind my guests as I rose and directed them to seats on the couch from which they could access the snack trays. “Would you care for tea?”
“Yes,” they said together, and I poured for them.
Medusa and Octopippin moved to spots where our guests could see them. “You’ve met Medusa,” I said. “This is Ashur’s partner, Octopippin, and this is Ashur.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.” Thomas nodded to each, in turn. “Ashur, my youngest son is your age.”
If I had known that about Captain Thomas, I might have introduced Ashur to her sooner. I liked her, now that I was no longer planning to break her neck.
She sampled a tea cake. “My goodness. This is wonderful.”
“That’s lemon?” said Lee. “I can’t resist the chocolate.”
We sipped our tea and exchanged pleasantries for the first several minutes. I was expecting to get down to business soon, but Lee sidetracked me with a question I had not expected. “Medusa, can you taste what Oichi is eating and drinking?”
Medusa smiled. “You are perceptive, Representative Lee.”
“I can do it, too!” said Kitten, who had draped herself across the back of our couch. “So far, I prefer raspberry tarts.”
“Your brain implants must be very advanced biotech,” said Lee. “Among Union worlds, lots of people have advanced communication implants, but what you have is rare.”
I regarded him over the rim of my cup. “Do you have implants, Representative Lee?”
“No. The only biotech I’ve received is standard medical. It’s kept me healthy, but none of it gives me access to databases or communications. My eyes don’t see beyond normal spectrums.”
“Same here,” said Thomas. “Biotech is expensive. I’ve sunk most of my earnings into my ship.”
That seemed like a good spot for a segue. “You haven’t asked leave to depart,” I said, “to take your ship back to the Weapons Clan.”
Captain Thomas held my gaze steadily. “We’re not sure that’s our best option.”
If I had smiled at that moment, it probably would have seemed insincere. So I maintained a demeanor of polite curiosity, even though that was also insincere. “Have you considered visiting the Belters?”
“Have you?” countered Thomas.
I took another sip of my tea. “In fact—I have. I wondered if we might do it together. Your ship is much faster than any of our shuttles.”
Now it was Thomas’s turn to nurse her tea. (Really, how do people negotiate without that beverage?) “That would be interesting. Would you be hiring us only for transportation? Or would we also be working as consultants?”
“Both, I think. For instance”—I turned to Lee—“we’d like to hear about the Union.”
“Also about the war,” added Ashur.
Captain Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Which one? There have been plenty of those.”
“The one that almost destroyed all the colonies.”
The half-puzzled, half-amused expression Captain Thomas had shown in her profile picture might be her default setting, but the one she wore just then was neither of those things. “The short version is that the families who ruled the Old Empire had so much wealth, their children could afford to buy their own weapons. Unfortunately, those weapons included things like sunbusters.”
Ashur frowned. “How do you bust a sun?”
“You don’t, really. You briefly destabilize the forces of gravity and explosion that hold the sun in balance. Before it regains that balance, it sends out a devastating pulse. How much destruction it causes depends on how close something is to that sun. At the very least, it takes out electronics and satellites. At worst—it can take out the atmosphere of a world along with everything on the surface.”
“Children did that?” Ashur looked stunned.
“Some as young as you,” said Thomas.
I wasn’t as surprised as Ashur. I hadn’t told him everything I had witnessed concerning the offspring of Executives, their cruelties and their—hobbies. I had no trouble imagining children who could wipe out entire worlds for fun.
“It took a couple of centuries to even start rebuilding what was destroyed,” said Thomas. “On the upside, the Union became a lot more influential. That’s also when the Alliance of Ancient Races started to talk to us.”
“Ah,” said Octopippin. “They realized they needed to be the adults in the room.”
Our guests stared at Octopippin as if seeing her for the first time.
“My DNA is ancient,” she said. “As is the technology that crafted me.”
“May I have more tea?” Lee placed his cup on its saucer.
I poured, and we all waited for him to fix it to his liking with sugar. “Octopippin,” he said at last, “I suspect that if the children of those powerful families had been linked with Medusa units, there would have been no War of the Clans. Possibly no other wars as well.”
“War is impractical and destructive,” said Octopippin, “but the Weapons Clan would be bankrupt without them—don’t you think?”
“Yes,” said Lee. “They argue that weapons prevent as many wars as they enable. They have a point. This system we’re traveling through and the graveyard on its fourth world are well protected.”
Medusa nudged the plate of tea cakes toward him. “Have you ever visited the Belters of Charon, Representative Lee?”
He selected another cake. “Never, but I would be happy to be your consultant in matters of Union protocol.”
“What about the protocols of the Alliance of Ancient Races?” said Medusa.
Lee took another sip of tea before he answered. “In their case, courtesy and respect are the only known protocols. Very few people have seen them or spoken to them directly.”
Yet Fire worked for them. Interesting.
“Oichi—” Captain Thomas leveled her gaze at me. “—do you plan to visit Graveyard?”
I had already decided to hire her, so I told her the truth. “We must. Our origins are there. We have been invited by entities who abide there.”
I didn’t expect them to be so surprised by that revelation. Lee had to set down his cup. “By entities?” he said. “Not by humans living on Graveyard?”
“By both,” I clarified.
Lee and Thomas shared a long look. I admired that they could exchange so much information in a glance, without the aid of brain implants.
Thomas turned to me. “I accept your contract. My crew and I normally work for credits, but in your case, we’ll work out some sort of barter. We can iron out the details later. For the record—you want us to take you to the Belters. Did you know we could also take you to Graveyard?”
“I hadn’t thought that far in advance,” I lied. “I consider it a possibility.”
She gave a curt nod. “I consider it a possibility, too.”
“I’ll write up a standard contract,” said Lee.
I stirred sugar into my tea. “Will the Weapons Clan be surprised that you aren’t returning to them?”
Captain Thomas didn’t hesitate. “Probably, but we’re contractors. We don’t owe them explanations.”
“Are they evil people?” said Ashur.
Even I was surprised by the directness of that question, but Thomas seemed to understand the anger that lay behind it. “Not as individuals,” she said. “At least, not most of them. They’re businesspeople and technicians. As a group, sometimes they can be operationally evil.”
“For instance,” said Ashur, “they can create a magnifice
nt generation ship like Olympia, and then they can create a race of people to live there who belong to them. Like things. Like…”
“Assets,” offered Octopippin.
“Yes,” said Thomas. “That’s the Weapons Clan in a nutshell.”
“I’m glad you’re going to work with us now,” said Ashur. “I don’t trust them to be honorable toward you, now that you’ve talked to us.”
I hadn’t mentioned to Ashur what I overheard on the comm link. He figured that one out for himself.
Captain Thomas smiled at him. “This job is turning out to be a lot more exciting than I had expected, but I’m glad to be working with you, too, Ashur.”
If that didn’t seal the deal, I didn’t know what could.
Okay, probably Lee’s contract could, but I felt it was worth another round of tea. I was plying them with more treats from the tray when a message from the tablet Kitten had given the Merliners popped into my queue.
Oichi, this is Miriam Cocteau. I would very much like to meet the people responsible for the wonderful wine you make here on Olympia. Can this be arranged?
I’ll put you in touch with Ogden Schickele, I responded. He makes coffee, but he hobnobs with all the best vintners.
Delightful! she said.
“I just got a message from Cocteau,” I told Lee and Thomas. “She wants to meet with the winemakers. Perhaps you’d like to join her?”
Thomas smiled. “Leave it to Cocteau to find out where the party is.”
Indeed? I wondered. Is that why you have two engineers on Merlin instead of just one?
I decided to leave that inquiry until later. I set my cup down and turned to Medusa, a satisfied smile on my lips.
Her expression made me reconsider that.
The others chatted cheerfully around us. I did my best to maintain an unruffled demeanor. Inside, I was anything but.
The others were going out the door now, led by Kitten, Ashur, and Octopippin. Medusa and I brought up the rear.
She had a point. Why hadn’t I said anything to her?
We had been leading separate lives. I saw that clearly now. Medusa was the Prima—she was always busy. I had assumed a similar role in the hierarchy of Olympia. Both of us had become accustomed to making decisions on our own.
We watched the others get into a mover. Medusa waved them on, and we waited for another one.
I said.
Again, I felt flummoxed. Shouldn’t that be obvious?
I stared at her, speechless.
I had to admit—that was a good question, but if she had met Crow, if she had received that invitation that had seemed more like a command, would she feel this way?
I nodded, but that was a lame response. Medusa didn’t need a nod; she needed an explanation. Now that I was on the spot, I couldn’t seem to come up with one.
Maybe so, I thought, but they’re also the ones who first contacted me, with avatars of the most important people in my life. Should I respect that decision, too?
That would have been a good argument. I should have spoken it to her, but I kept silent.
Once again, I withheld information from Medusa.
7
I’ll Ride the God Machine If You’ll Be the Chorus
When we entered the Habitat Sector, the music playing in my head came from a movie called Around the World in 80 Days. It was composed by Victor Young, and its main theme featured a lush collection of strings that all seemed to be singing, We have nothing better to do than drift lazily in this balloon.…
Honestly, I couldn’t tell you much about that movie, aside from the self-explanatory title, but it’s fun to wallow in it—in the music and in the scenes of a past era as imagined by people from a somewhat-less-past era.
Wallowing was what I wanted our guests to do in the Habitat Sector. We escorted Thomas and Lee to the little wine- and coffee-tasting soirée Ogden Schickele had improvised (though Ogden improvises better than most people plan). The rest of the Merliners mingled in the demonstration garden next to one of Ogden’s coffee greenhouses. Dragonette, Teddy, and Rocket played cohosts, and—what the heck!—since it was a party, we invited Nuruddin and Terry, Nefertari and Kumiko. Some of Ogden’s agriculture students were there, too, pinching coffee cherries to get a feel for ripeness.
Not to sound lecherous, but pinching those cherries is fun. It wasn’t long before Nuruddin and I waded in among those young people, ostensibly to help them pick the ripe ones, but mostly to satisfy our curiosity.
Nuruddin squeezed a coffee cherry experimentally. “I’ve been thinking about what Nemo told you—how the Weapons Clan rescued our wheat crops.”
“Yes.” I tested one and decided it was ripe for picking—but easier said than done.
“It occurs to me,” said Nuruddin, “that the Weapons Clan served the role of the God Machine in our lives, and I find that rather funny.”
“The what?” I said.
“It’s an old reference in Greek drama. The deus ex machina. In the earliest plays written by humans, a god always solved everyone’s problem at the end of the story. The god also served as a judge who decided who was to blame and how things should be resolved. The god was lowered onto the stage by a machine, a stage prop.”
I thought about Itzpapalotl, the goddess of nightmares who lurked out beyond the gas giants. “If the Weapons Clan has been our deus ex machina, then Itzpapalotl would be one of their machines?”
He smiled. “Exactly. The Three have had their moments in that role, too. Yet they have also served the function of the Chorus.”
“The who?”
Nuruddin dropped one cherry in his bag. “In the ancient plays, the Chorus stood apart from the Players and made comments about the characters and the situations they found themselves in. For instance, in Lysistrata, the Chorus says:
Save Athens and all Greece
From Lunacy and war,
For that, O maid, is what
They’ve seized your temple for.
“And in Medea, the Chorus says: Did you hear, Zeus and Earth and light, how sad a lament she sings, the sorrowful wife?
“And in Oedipus Rex, the Chorus says: For the day ravages what the night spares—
“And in that Woody Allen movie, Mighty Aphrodite, the Chorus says: Please, Lenny, don’t be a schmuck!”
I frowned. “That last remark from the Chorus seems more like interaction and less like observation.”
Nuruddin brightened. “Yes, because the Chorus evolved in drama. The role of the Chorus came to be filled by other characters. You can see it in the movies in my database, but now I’m seeing it in our lives. Think about how we communicate with each other. We’re constantly making observations about things we’re not directly involved with, and the Medus
as and Minis do it even more than we do.”
I thought about it. “Kitten can be quite Chorus-y.”
“Indeed. It is the nature of the way we communicate. If you travel in Merlin to visit the Belters, and you explain anything to them that changes their lives, you shall have been delivered by a God Machine.”
“If, instead, I simply make remarks about what’s going on, rather than resolving the conflict, will I be the Chorus? Are Chorus members allowed to ride in the God Machine?”
“Not in the classical plays,” said Nuruddin, “but this is our story. We can change the rules.”
Nuruddin regarded the children around us, who pinched the cherries with such enthusiasm. Before our revolution, only mid- and low-level Executives could become what Ogden had been, a food expert. Worms who specialized in nutrition were relegated to the vat rooms, where nutrient broth was made. The young people in Ogden’s agriculture class were from every corner of Olympia; the only prerequisite for their participation was an interest in plants.
That prompted me to wonder where Ashur was. The last I had seen, he had been talking with the doctor from Merlin. He had been polite with her, not flirty. I suppose maturity can take some of the fun out of romance. Unless you think it’s fun to discuss disease vectors.
Nuruddin and I tired of pretending to pick coffee cherries, so we wandered back to Ogden’s circle. Representative Lee was talking about a food he called cheese. “It’s made from the milk of mammals. Mostly goats and cows. It goes well with wine. It doesn’t go as well with coffee, but the cream from cows certainly does.”
Cocteau laughed. “Only a Philistine puts cream in coffee! Though I enjoy ice cream. That’s something you may want to trade with the Belters, Ogden—and the cheese, of course. I shall be delighted to get some Brie for you. You may want to see if they have some fish or chicken you can sample.”
Ogden didn’t mention that we have some animal protein that we grow in our vats; it’s used to make nutrient broth. We also have fish, but they are decorative creatures who live in ornamental ponds, a frivolity on a generation ship that I am hard-pressed to explain.