I shrugged and looked as innocent as can be. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Major. I did execute a man, but that was simple justice. Others that came in with me would willingly kill for no real reason.”
She shook her head negatively. “No, that’s not it. Something about you is … odd. I suspect that this is what was smelled by the Confederacy and their psychs as well. That is the reason they sent you to the Diamond, although, somehow, I feel we would all be better off if you weren’t Medusan.” She sighed again. “That is in the simple way of a warning, Bul. I’m going to be watching you extra carefully.”
“I assumed I was being watched extra carefully anyway, considering I’m a newcomer.”
She did not respond to that for a moment, but finally got to the point. “Have you been… contacted by anyone we should know about?”
The question was surprising. “Don’t you know?”
“Can the bullshit, Bul!” she snapped. “Answer the question!”
“I wasn’t being funny,” I assured her. “You’ve got to admit that’s a pretty weird question for Medusa, though.”
Her anger subsided as she realized that, of course, I was right. She had already admitted by her very question that this system wasn’t nearly as infallible as they claimed, nor as all-inclusive. It was a potentially damaging admission, and one I valued highly. “Just answer yes or no,” she said at last.
“No,” I responded honestly. “At least, not by anybody outside my normal life and job. What is this about, Major?”
“Some of the others who came here with you have been contacted by subversives,” she said in another, even more startling admission. “None of them are now in Gray Basin except you, but it’s my job to find out if these enemies of the people have spread to us. Logically, they would contact you if they were.”
“I’ve heard nothing about them or this,” I answered truthfully. I didn’t add that I could see the all-powerful TMS’s terrible embarrassment at anything like this. Subversives meant those opposed to Ypsir, TMS, and the system—natural enough, but in a society this regimented and monitored, allegedly perfect in its enforcement procedures, even a minor flaw would be a matter of great concern. Clearly somebody had found that flaw. On at least a verbal level somebody was operating against the Medusan government and had somehow circumvented their fancy computers, monitors, flags, and recorders. That meant more than a real genius at electronics—that meant an inside job. It meant that the leader of this thing had to be either a highly placed government official or somebody fairly high up in TMS.
“They call themselves simply the Opposition,” she told me. “We don’t think there are many of them, but the smaller and more cell-like their organization the more difficult it is to destroy. Since you have not been contacted, we must assume that they are not yet in Gray Basin.” She paused a moment for effect. As I said, a real pro. “How would you and your pair-mate like a promotion, Bul?”
Surprise followed surprise, and I could hardly repress my excitement. At last some room to move. I could almost guess what was coming next. “You know we would,” I told her. “And what’s the price?”
Again that faint smile. “The price could be very high indeed, Bul. Two of those who came in with you are dead now. One joined them but was not very clever. The other refused them—and was executed by them, we believe. A third joined, slipped, and tried to bluff things out with us. She was given to our psychs. She had a very strong mind and will and fought to the bitter end. Still, we got some information from her, but at the cost of her own mind. She’s now a Goodtime Girl for her city government. She smiles a lot and does whatever she’s told—she would jump off a building or behead herself if asked—but she doesn’t exactly think any more.”
I’m afraid the sudden hoarseness in my voice wasn’t at all feigned. Frankly, I could stand death. It was a part of the risk my profession always ran, and one that all of us accepted. I also had no real fear of routine psych probes or even physical torture. I was trained and propped by the best for that. But I have to admit that a total assault on my mind, enough to break it, was possible. So although they would still get no information from such an effort, they could, in fact, destroy me mentally. It was always a possibility, one that revolted me.
“Do you want to become a Goodtime Girl, Bul?” she asked, sensing my discomfort.
“No. Of course not,” I told her, my voice weak.
“Well, here is what we are going to do. Two of those people were in the city of Rochande, more than sixteen hundred kilometers southwest of here. It so happens we run three trains between Gray Basin and Rochande, two of which are freights. It is the passenger-freight combination train that interests us, since we have some information that at least one contact was made on that train. We intend to assign you to that train, on a regular basis, as a normal promotion. Since the trip, with preparation and cleanup, takes a full shift, you will have two residences, one here and one there, and work different directions on alternate days. We believe that, sooner or later, either on the train or at Rochande, you will be contacted.”
It figured. Bait. But the actual routine sounded like fun, and it would give me the first opening in my own little campaign. “And when—if—I’m contacted?”
“You will join. You will go along with what they ask. We don’t want you to just report a contact. We want you to join the organization, perhaps for some time. We want to know who these people—this cell—are. We want their leader, because she will be the only one with enough information to take us further.”
I nodded as several questions immediately leaped to mind. “Ah, Major, I may not be very old but I was trained for organization and administration. I know how these political things work. First of all, I will never know their real names, most likely, and only one of them will know mine, unless we run across each other by accident in the street or on the job.”
“But you’ll know what they look like and you’re a bright boy. You’ll be able to figure out a lot of information about many of them. Somebody will make a slip about her family, or somebody else will betray knowledge that will indicate her Guild, at least. Eventually we’ll have pictures from your description to match with our computers, and we’ll come up with a fair number of them. Don’t worry—we understand the limits of this work better than you do.”
“All right, I’ll accept that. But the one that they killed worries me. That means they have some way to check sincerity. One of ’em’s probably either a psych or a technician for a psych lab. That’s going to be hard to fake.”
She gave that smile again. “You are a bright boy. Your objection can be very easily disposed of. The equipment has to be basic and portable. They can’t possibly do a full job on you. The solution is very simple, then—you tell them all about this meeting and you tell them about me.”
“Huh?”
“You tell them you’re playing along with us, but you really sympathize with them. That will be the truth—don’t bother to deny it. The ambivalence will be enough to confuse their devices, our psychs assure me. You’re still new enough and fresh enough to cause no problem on that score.”
I frowned and looked nervous at the suggestion, although she was perfectly correct and it was exactly what I was planning to do anyway. “How sure are you about that?”