“It’s a long story, and the less of it you know, the safer it is for all involved. It was brought here by others—not the Rik, of course. We were told of its existence and its importance. And those who told us recommended that we bring it home, examine it, and learn the secrets of that technology before the Rik end up controlling our world completely.”
Harry whistled. No wonder Victoria hadn’t explained any of this to him. There was much more going on here than he had even begun to suspect. He needed time to think.
Perhaps the time had come to call it quits with Victoria Dickinson. If that was possible…
It had been a few years since he’d left the place, but MIT still had all the charm and beauty of a roof full of heating, ventilation, and air-conditioning equipment.
The buildings reminded him of something out of Eastern Europe’s Communist days—acres of poured concrete growing out of neoclassical marble, towers of brick with walls of glass and Venetian blinds. The only advantage Harry could see in the utilitarian and artless architecture was the passion of its builders for connecting the buildings. It was possible to go from one end of campus to the other without ever stepping out into the cold.
He worked his way past the huge dewars of liquid nitrogen that cluttered the halls of the physics department. The bulletin boards that lined the walls were filled with the dry business of technical and engineering life—except for the Peace, Justice, Freedom, and Liberation board, which was covered with strident messages urging students to join a variety of organizations aimed at throwing off the yoke of a variety of villains, beginning with the school administration, running through several banks and corporations, and ending at the top with the Riks.
Harry felt a certain sympathy for those groups as he tightened the strap on the rik-sack that carried his contraband.
He wasn’t quite sure when he made the decision to withhold his cargo from Victoria Dickinson. It was some time before he had returned to the Rik transit station in Riverside, at the far end of the Green Line.
One of the weightier factors in his decision was the sudden recollection that Victoria s father wasn’t just any old son-of-a-bitch with too much money. He was the old son-of-a-bitch who owned Mass-Rik Imports, the company that operated the network and controlled all the think-mans in the city.
At least part of the puzzle fell into place when he put that piece on the table. And that made Harry a little more nervous. He knew that in the end, it would be easy to turn his back on Victoria and walk away. But he was not as sure that it would be the same with her father.
He found Arleigh Dean alone in the room on the fourth floor where the Students for the Exploration and Exploitation of Space were scheduled to meet. His red hair nearly matched the plaid flannel shirt he wore. A pencil rested on one ear, threaded through the top of a beard shot through with gray hairs—the only sign of change in the years since he’d been Harry’s roommate.
“Say Harry, long time no see,” he said as the two men greeted each other. “What brings you down here from Harvard Yard?”
“Big business,” Harry said. “Big, black magic business. I’ll tell you all about it if you’ll tell me what happened to the kids who were supposed to meet here today.”
Arleigh laughed, but Harry could feel the pain. “They’re not interested in space anymore,” he said. “Not when you can get there with a short ride on the T.”
“I guess you’re right. But I’ve got something that could change all that. Right here in my bag.” Harry pulled his rik-sack off his shoulder and withdrew the contents—a single piece of clearly extraterrestrial technology, all smooth-flowing surfaces, purple-pigmented parts, and a set of universal jacks for Rik-technology attachments.
Arleigh let out a long, low whistle. “Looks neat. What is it?”
Harry sat down and told him the story of his trip to Naverly Tol. When he was done, Arleigh sat down too.
“How did you get that thing past customs? The Alien Technology Bureau is picky about what it wants in the hands of the public.”
“I didn’t think I would at first,” Harry said. “I was in the inspection line at the transit station, waiting for them to check my rik-sack. But when I got to the head of the line, the woman behind me dropped a bagful of about twenty creatures that looked like rabbits with wings. They went all over the place, and the inspectors went running after them. They just waved the rest of us through. I figured Victoria had set it up, and decided I wanted more time to think before I just handed it over to her. So instead of grabbing the T, I hiked on down the street and grabbed a cab.”
“How do you know this thing is for real?”
“I don’t,” Harry said. “That’s why I came to you.” “Geez, Harry, I don’t know anything about this stuff. I’m too busy teaching kids how to push electrons through cloud chambers.” He lifted the device, gauging its heft. He squinted for a moment, then his eyes sparkled. “But I do know where we can go for an expert opinion. Come with me.”
Arleigh lead Harry on a twisted path through several buildings, through narrow white-walled corridors, past windows offering glimpses of cramped industrial courtyards, and office after identical office. They ended up in a small dusty cul-de-sac where the placard on the door read: “Department of Alien Technology.” Arleigh pushed through the doors into a bare workroom where two young undergrads in white lab coats were playing computer games on their virtual terminals.
“Gotcha!” one yelled. “I knew you couldn’t hide behind that rubble all day”
The other jumped to his feet in sudden embarrassment at the sight of the two visitors. Harry felt ashamed, but for a different reason. The bare, unused lab revealed the painful truth that thanks to the Riks and the government there was precious little alien technology available for humans to study.
But that was about to change.
“Boys, call your boss,” Arleigh said. “I’ve got a project for you.”
The walk up from Kenmore Square and over the Turnpike was brutal. Harry shifted the bag of groceries to one arm and pulled up the clear face plate of his rik-suit. Now he looked like a beached scuba diver.
As he headed towards Fenway Park, the wind blew fine crystals of powdered snow off the top of the stadium, which stuck to his faceplate and turned to water. A few minutes later, he walked through the ice-encrusted parking lot and into the Howard Johnson’s motel where he’d been holed up for two days.
There was a message for him on the phone when he got to his room. It had to be Arleigh—or else terribly bad news. He’d told no one else where he was and had sworn Arleigh to secrecy.
He stripped out of his rik-suit and retrieved a package of cookies from his grocery bag. Since checking into the motel, he’d gotten his first decent sleep in two days. When he was through wolfing down half a bag of Fig Newtons, a radical departure from Tolian fare but suitable for his purposes, he called Arleigh back.
The news was good.
“We still haven’t got the slightest idea why it works, but we have been able to link up with the controls,” the MIT professor said. “The Rik’s universal input jack is something the boys up in the workshop know their way around. They’ve run the tutorial and the diagnostic, and now they’re ready to do some field tests. And we all thought you might want to be in on that phase of the program.”
Harry felt a rush of excitement and fear. “I never thought about it before,” he said. “I just wanted to find out if the thing is for real.”
“Then field tests are the only way to do that. Are you game?”
“What do I have to do?”
“Take a little trip.”
The fear and excitement welled up and spilled over. “How little?”