"The House will suffer."
Tregesser made burbling, grumbling, contrary noises.
"She is a Tregesser. But she comes up short on perspective, Simon. She has no sense of timing. She's lacking in the intangibles. She can't hang on to loyalties."
"If she's feeble, she won't last. That's the way it's done."
"Blessed will take it away from her. But at what cost? Suppose we catch a Guardship. You want to imagine Valerena having her own Guardship?"
"We grab a Guardship, Valerena won't get her hands on it. Get me one. You'll have no worries."
"You'll give it to Blessed?"
"The hell I will. I'll give it to me. I'll succeed myself. You can make me a new damned Other, a healthy one, and I'll move into it when you do the personality impression."
"That's an interesting idea. If you can get away with it."
"Why shouldn't I?" Tregesser did not notice Provik saying "you" instead of "we," though he replied with "I" instead of "we."
"No clone has ever been anything but an artifact, except Valerena. But officially only you and I know about Valerena."
"Be the same thing, Lupo."
"Hardly. How the hell would you hide Simon Tregesser suddenly turning up with a healthy body? The Directors would claim it wasn't you. They'd say it was some scheme of mine to take over the House. Hell, it's been tried before. Somebody works a deal with Banat-Marath and Troqwai and gives it a shot, and everybody cheers him for giving Death the slip, then they show him the door to the nearest DownTown. There's too much wealth and power at stake."
"Crap."
"Human nature, Simon. It don't work. It's the iron law. They'll let you cheat death once if you're at the top but the price is you have to start over at the bottom. As an artifact."
"Bah! Crap, I say! Watch me! You're my man, aren't you? If we can flout the law and human nature and historical inertia to put together that mass of firepower out there, we can get around the Directors. Can't we?"
"No doubt." Lupo Provik maintained the neutrality of billet steel. He was Simon Tregesser's man, worthy of the trust he had been given, but his loyalty had been subscribed in the certainty that Simon Tregesser was not immortal.
"Hey! The more I think about it, the more I like it." Big mad peal of the old Simon Tregesser hilarity. "I'm going to get on it. Something to while away the hours. Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Immortality. Wouldn't that be a bitch!"
A screaming bitch, Lupo thought as Simon zipped away, roaring and treating his aides and allies with complete disregard. A bitch so big he would have to reexamine his commitments and undertakings if Simon pursued it.
Not that he objected to immortality per se. It was good enough for Lupo Provik.
— 43 —
Midnight told Turtle, "You'd better come. She might be coming out of it."
Turtle secured the infocomm. "That's good news." Gemina had not been letting him at much. For instance, he could access nothing about Kez Maefele.
He followed Midnight to Amber Soul's stateroom. "You haven't been spending much time with WarAvocat."
"He's busy figuring out how to kill people." Her tone was peevish.
Turtle suspected some of those people needed killing. They had loosed the beast of blood when they had sent that krekelen on its mission.
Amber Soul did seem changed. The air around her had lost that charge of pain it had carried so long. She no longer looked human, only humanoid, in the shape she had worn most often in Merod Schene DownTown.
He began with a gentle examination, aware that Gemina monitored his every twitch and breath. He did not try misdirection.
"This might be a good time to get some nourishment down her."
The door snapped open. Four humorless ConCom security types tramped in. A junior officer looked around with the cold eye of the jackboot breed. Turtle accepted it with bland indifference.
They needed the fear, his type. They fed upon it. "You're to come with us."
"Fine."
"Get that onto the stretcher and let's move out."
Turtle glanced over his shoulder. Nobody there. "You talking to me?"
"Who the hell else would I be talking to?"
Turtle shrugged. "I'm not crew. I don't do crew's work. Gemina wants her moved, Gemina can move her." Something was wrong here.
"You'll do what I tell you,"
"Or you'll put a bug down my shirt? I know you wouldn't be dumb enough to get physical with a Ku warrior."
The color left the officer's face. Odd response. Humans got red and puffy when they were angry.
One of the others whispered to the officer, who barked, "I know that, dammit! You and Blaylo get the thing on the stretcher."
The security men designated activated the stretcher's grav unit, moved Amber Soul aboard, set her floating into the corridor. They bothered guiding her only when the stretcher drifted near a bulkhead. Turtle remained close behind, keeping Midnight near. One security man ranged ahead, scouting. Another fell back to rearguard. The officer was nervous.
Midnight kept tossing Turtle questioning glances he ignored. But finally he asked, "Up to something sneaky, subaltern? Slipping through all these deserted passages. Who are you trying to put one over on?"
"Just keep moving."
"You can sneak but you can't hide. Gemina is watching."
The bearer's shoulder flinched. That had stung.
The officer snapped, "Close the mouth, Ku. Or we will give the obsolete warrior a field test."
Turtle turned, took the man's cap before he could blink, shifted hands, put it back. "You're right. I'm slowing down."
The act was satisfying but not worth the scorn he got from Midnight.
They mostly went down, past the armored bulk of the Core, always through the kinds of passageways Turtle haunted when he wandered. The final passageway led to an exit lock.
They were leaving VII Gemina? For Starbase? That was a surprise.
The subaltern slipped outside and took the lead. He marched them down corridors that stretched for kilometers, into visual infinity. Occasionally he zigged out and down stairwells that had not felt the tread of feet in lifetimes. Finally, he ushered them into an empty room. The subaltern said, "Wait here." He went out with his troops.
An hour later Turtle said, "We've been ditched, courtesy of the Deified Makarska Vis."
Midnight looked like she might panic. "Do you recall the way back? I do."
"Yes. They didn't try to be confusing." Which was ominous.
Midnight jiggered the stretcher controls. It rose a meter. "There should be a comealong."
"They would have used it."
"Probably. Let's go. I have to do something or I'll lose control."
"You're doing well."
"I do better when hysterics are a luxury."
"We all do." He let her manage the stretcher. He did not press. He was sure it was too late.
He kept expecting to run into somebody who would want to know what they were doing. But they encountered no sign of the builders or their heirs. Starbase, Turtle feared, was a prison where they would serve life sentences for having offended the Deified Makarska Vis.
The entry hatch was locked. As he expected. He told Midnight, "Stay here. I'll find a way to get hold of WarAvocat."
She had her hysterics then.
— 44 —
The spacers of House Horigawa saw something no one had seen since the days of the Enherrenraat, Guardships coming out of Starbase Tulsa, through the Barbican, in line astern, ready for war.
The news would go out. But no news traveled faster than a hungry Guardship.