“She can still be that person you thought you saw. They can root the Starflyer out of her memories, turn her back to a full human being.”
Patricia sat back up, dabbing at the moisture on her face. “I’m sorry. This is stupid of me.”
“I understand. And I don’t want your resignation. We’ll face this together.” Elaine sighed. “If there’s going to be a future we can face it in. God alone knows what is really going on. Sheldon’s got himself a little bunch of cohorts who’re calling all the shots. I mean, we didn’t even know about the Boongate wormhole. What the hell did happen there?”
“None of my sources knew about it.”
“Damnit, I’m the President.”
“That doesn’t mean a lot to Sheldon, or the other Dynasties.”
“He is going to wipe out Dyson Alpha, isn’t he?”
“For all he’s a ruthless bastard, he does have a sense of honor. If he said he’ll do it, he will.”
“Hell, I hope you’re right.”
***
Illanum wasn’t like a normal town. It was founded to act as a supply depot for all the estates that the Sheldon Dynasty scattered over the planet; coupled with a small airport for the hypersonics that flew the ultra-wealthy to their extremely private homes. There was also housing, and a few select malls, for the thousands of technicians and specialist construction workers and household staff who helped maintain the estates. Urban expansion also extended to schools for the children of senior Dynasty members, stores promoting the most expensive designer items to be found in the Commonwealth, and a few high-class low-morals leisure clubs whose existence was a constant source of semi-envious rumor on the tackier unisphere gossip shows. Not all the Dynasty members invited by Nigel to build a residence on Cressat favored the splendid isolation route; they preferred a tighter community that had some interaction and built themselves town houses instead.
The district Ozzie drove through didn’t exactly suffer from population pressure, or a shortage of space. Houses were vast, set inside huge open grounds. His Mercedes cab was the only vehicle on the road that seemed curiously narrow amid such ostentation.
“Who are we visiting?” Mellanie asked.
“Old friend,” Ozzie said reluctantly. He thought he recognized some of the ridiculous buildings they were driving past, like the crimson pyramid and the Scottish baronial castle inside its own moat, but it had been a long time. And he didn’t want to check the location with the local net. Nigel and Nelson might well have discovered his backdoor authorization codes by now. He also knew his disappearance would be noticed at some point, sooner rather than later. When that happened all hell would break loose. Dynasty security would run a forensic audit through the mansion’s network, and discover traces of the SIsubroutine. Nigel would go apeshit about that; he’d never really trusted the SI. Infiltrating a copy into his Dynasty’s secure world was essentially a declaration of war.
A ghostly white building that was all vertical curves and long balconies slid into view on the top of a small rise where it commanded a view right across the surrounding district. “Ah, here we go,” he said, and turned off up the drive.
Ozzie knew the house array’s sensors had seen him; he just hoped he was still cleared for authorized entry. In fact, he hoped it was still her house—reasonable enough assumption, people here didn’t sell up and move like they did on ordinary worlds. With his aversion to establishing a link to any part of Cressat’s net still riding high, Ozzie didn’t try to call ahead to see if anyone was inside; instead he rapped on the tall metal door. When Mellanie put her hands on her hips and gave him a maddened stare, he just shrugged lamely.
There was a sound of bare feet walking on a wooden floor. The door swung open, revealing a pink and orange hallway. A woman was standing there, dressed in a black robe, her hair in disarray.
Ozzie squinted. “Giselle?”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Hi, babe.” Ozzie smiled brightly. “Surprise!”
“Dickhead, why are you here?”
“I missed you. Can we talk inside?”
Giselle Swinsol glowered at Mellanie. “Who’s this? You look familiar.”
“Mellanie.”
“The media bitch. Try recording me and I will personally rip your throat out, reach down the hole, and pull your dying heart out so you can watch it stop beating.”
“I don’t record ugly, boring people.”
“Ladies.” Ozzie held his hands out to both of them. “Please, come on. A little civility here. Giselle, Mellanie is a good friend. She’s not working on a story, are you?”
“Probably not,” Mellanie said querulously.
“There, see. Everything is cool.”
Giselle glared at him again. “Cool? You think this is cool?” Her arm came up fast, and she landed a perfectly aimed slap on Ozzie’s cheek. She stomped off back into the house, leaving the door open.
Ozzie tried to wriggle his jaw back into place. It hurt. There were red blotches interfering with his vision.
Mellanie’s smile had returned. “Old girlfriend?”
“Wife,” Ozzie explained wearily. He ventured inside. Crockery was being slammed around in the kitchen. “Did we interrupt dinner?” Ozzie asked. The décor had been changed sometime over the last century, he noticed. The kitchen fittings were now all jet-black, with glass doors. Scarlet worktops glowed faintly, casting a hazy hue on the ceiling. Chic antique Miami bar stools surrounded the long breakfast bar.
“Breakfast,” Giselle snapped. She tugged a coffee mug from a maidbot’s tentacles and shoved it in the dishwasher cabinet. “I’ve been working twenty-six/seven and I’m tired, and I’ve got to get back in another hour.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m not telling you that.”
“I knew Nigel would give you a senior post in the Dynasty starship project, after all it’s practically your planet. You were the best choice to head the research team into the Planters. How is all the gigalife, by the way?”
“Like me, it survives perfectly well without you.”
“I need a favor.”
“Then you should ask someone who cares about you. There must be one person in the Commonwealth, surely.”
“Okay, bad approach, I’m sorry. I’m here because I need to get up to the starships.”
“Ozzie!” She grabbed a side plate.
He didn’t think she’d throw it. “I see you kept the memories of us, then.”
Giselle tipped her head to one side as her expression turned menacingly calm. “Oh, yes. Won’t get fooled again. Thank you.”
“I need help, man. Please, Giselle.” He was surprised at how shaky his voice had become. This really was the final throw of the dice; if Giselle didn’t come through it was truly all over. He wasn’t sure he could live in a universe in which such a crime had been committed. “I know what I did before, I kept the memories of us, too; but please please trust me this one last time. I have to get to the starships. You know what Nigel is going to do, don’t you?”
“What has to be done.”
“It doesn’t.” Ozzie thought he caught a tiny flicker of doubt. “There’s a chance,” he persisted. “A small, pitiful, weak chance that I might be right, and genocide can be averted. Let me take that chance. It’s only me that will be at risk. I’m not going to drag anyone else down with me. Just let me do what I have to do. That’s all I ask. Please.”
“God damn you.” Giselle’s free hand thumped the scarlet worktop. “God damn you, Oswald Isaac.”
Mellanie’s smile had been in place the whole drive from Giselle’s house to the gateway. She kept seeing Orion’s face. His astonishment. Delight. Laughing. Awestruck. She looked up curiously as soon as they emerged from the other side of the gateway. The sun on this world hadn’t quite risen yet, a thick gentian light was only just sliding up out of the eastern horizon to diminish the stars. Something moved quickly high overhead. Something huge.