WARP world (54 page)

“Many arguments have been made this night,” Ansin began, “and, as always, the Guild moves with many minds, brilliant minds, but one purpose. We unite for the vital purpose of ensuring our continued existence in the most efficient and expeditious way possible.”

Amazing. Jarin could speak those same words but, while his fellow Theorists might well agree with him, for Ansin the heads would nod and murmurs of agreement would come to the fore. Even after all these years, he still marveled at his compatriot’s ability to sway the crowd. One would think that those who studied the very essence of hyperbole, myth, and legend would be more inured to such theatrics. By and large they were, but Ansin had a rare and singular gift.

“It will not surprise any here for me to say that I am proud to be a devout defender of orthodoxy. The Guild, and indeed the People, have traditions laid down since the early times of struggle, traditions that have enabled us to survive and even prosper in the face of adversity. Adversity that would have crumbled those whom we rule over. Tradition is our strength.”

Setup. Get them moving in the direction they expect to go.

“But tradition emerged from experimentation. The way of now was not the way of yesterday. While we must stand with what has made us successful, we must also make room for growth and development.”

Reversal. Take them in an entirely new direction.

“We must study and analyze each new possibility, as we study and analyze each new world. We must test these theories. We must grow.” Ansin was not an energetic speaker, but he was one who delivered his words with force, emphasis, and conviction. His voice, not loud but penetrating, carried through the room.

“
Theorist
Eraranat is young, yes.” Now Ansin did pick up the tone, he lifted his volume slightly as he dissected the opposition arguments. “He is known to be brash, yes.” Ansin circled between the tables at which sat perhaps the brightest minds in the World. “He could well be leading the way to disaster, yes!”

His eyes focused onto the distance, a trademark for Ansin’s best speeches. It was the time when he would see further, normally into the past but today into the future. “But he could also be blazing a new path. Brothers and sisters, let us give this young man his lead. I, personally, will pledge a portion of my own estate to the recovery of this venture should it fail. I have faith! Faith in Theorist Eraranat and faith in one of our own illustrious brothers, his teacher and mentor, Theorist Svestil,” he gestured to Jarin. “Faith enough to stake my own fortunes upon this. Tradition, yes, growth, yes! They are not mutually exclusive values.”

He slowed his pace, moved back toward his table and brought his gaze back down to focus on his peers. Masterful. He slowly drained the energy he had raised in the room, his words having played the assembled Theorists like an instrument

“Thank you for listening, bothers and sisters,” Ansin concluded and settled back in his seat. Jarin glanced around the room. Heads were still nodding, the odd hand raised in affirmation.

Let it be enough.

Seg entered the Raid Planning Chamber of House Haffset and noted that the principals were already assembled, albeit not yet all gathered at the table.

Jarin’s appearance at his office, informing him that the raid had passed the Council vote, was the first moment, since he had gone extrans, that he had allowed himself to feel victorious. This was the second moment.

He was surrounded by luminaries, People of status and power, all awaiting his words on the raid to come. His work would enhance the fortunes of many, perhaps create shifts in the balance of power in the World, though that was not his concern. It was the process that enthralled him, and the crucial position he held within it. All the others were accessories to the important work: the location of functional vita sources that could be extracted with minimal cost.

He set his film down on the table, along with a rough huchack fiber notebook of hand-scribbled notes. A silence had descended upon the room as all eyes turned toward him.

Obviously they were waiting for him to commence the process. He nodded, taking in the occupants of the room. The House Master was present, along with the House Marshal. Standing next to them were representatives of a half dozen raiding contractors–the suppliers of men, material, and military expertise. The Guild was represented by two Recorders, recordkeeping attendants, clad in crimson robes. Finally, his eyes settled on Adirante Fi Costk, the Director of External Affairs for the CWA, flanked by the woman who had come to him with the unexpected proposal, Efectuary of the PIS, Jul Akbas.

She gave him a cold smile, and he felt a flash of foreboding.

“Well then,” he began, “the calculations have borne out my field observations thus far. This raid will easily be the most profitable of the century.”

Better to start modest. The raid was going to be the most profitable not of the century, but of all time. However, setting the bar lower gave him an easier mark to aim for at the end.

He raised his eyes to the room. Only a few had taken their seats but all were staring at him. Staring and silent, not with admiration or professional vigilance but with perplexed discomfort. Clearing his throat, he looked down to his notes again. “If you will consul—”

“Theorist Eraranat,” Efectuary Akbas stepped forward, “your enthusiasm is inspiring. However, you are aware that you are no longer a participant in this process?”

He pivoted to face her directly. “Explain yourself.”

“You don’t give orders here. Actually, you don’t give orders anywhere anymore.” She passed him a digifilm. “You’ve been suspended from this raid and from all professional activity pending investigation into a complaint filed by Lieutenant Kerbin. Please, take a moment to read, you’ll find everything is in order.”

He snatched the digifilm away from her. “So the personal dispute between two individuals outweighs the process of a record raid. Politics trumping success. Is that your aim, Efectuary Akbas? Petty vengeance?” When she opened her mouth, he continued. “I know you’ll protest that you’re simply following procedure. My refusal of your offer to breach my contract with the Guild and my low opinion of your character have nothing to do with the matter.” He tossed the film at her feet. “This is not finished.”

Blood roared in his ears. It was everything he could do not to leap out and attack her physically. She, who had never left the safety of the World and her own little games, attempting to destroy the work of her betters.

Worst of all, Jarin had been right. He had crossed the CWA and now they were crossing him back. His feet refused to move, though he knew he was no longer welcome and that every set of eyes were focused on him, waiting for his retreat.

“Eraranat!” Akbas snapped, her booming voice incongruous with her slight frame. She pointed to the floor and a caj scurried over to retrieve the digifilm and return it to her hands. She looked Seg up and down, then fixed a sharp smile on him, “We hope you enjoyed that juvenile tantrum. Your mentor understands politics, it’s a shame his protégé did not absorb that particular gift. But then, we are amazed that the son of a recycler overseer even made it into the Guild at all.”

Seg’s mouth twitched, triggering the corners of Akbas’s smile to reach higher.

“You are right, this doesn’t end here,” she continued, loud enough for all present to hear. “You should consider sending your father a comm, to see if he might have a position for you. That may be the best you can hope for soon.”

“That will be all, Efectuary Akbas,” Director Fi Costk said, from his seat. “Theorist Eraranat, the matter is under consideration. Should the finding against you be shown as lacking merit, you will of course be restored to this deliberation. As such, I would recommend that everyone mind against statements which could later disrupt the function of this tasking.”

“Lacking merit?” Seg fired back, with a derisive laugh.

“Theorist Eraranat, I have stated our position, this matter is closed,” Fi Costk said, his voice deepening. “You may leave now.”

Seg slapped his hand on the table. “I demand an immediate inquiry! Since when have the groundless accusations of a—”

“Security!” Fi Costk called. Two uniformed guards appeared immediately, both armed with huchack rifles. “Escort Theorist Eraranat out of the building and ensure he does not return.”

The men reached for Seg’s arms but he yanked free of their grasp. “I’ll see myself out.”

As he turned to leave, he caught his reflection in the gleaming visors of the guards, his humiliation clearly visible. To everyone. He stormed out as fast as his legs could carry him and didn’t look back.

Jarin cycled the door open and gestured Seg inside. From his expression, it was clear he had received the news.

“Akbas,” Seg said.

“So I understand,” Jarin answered, as he guided him to a seat.

Ama hovered on one side of the room but burst forward as soon as she spotted Seg. “What’s happened?”

“There has been a setback,” Seg said. “Political. The CWA is trying to keep me out of my raid.”

“What?” The word shot from Ama’s mouth. “They can’t do that. We have to get back. I have to get back.” She turned to Jarin, “Can they do that?”

“They can.” Jarin sat in the chair facing Seg and leaned in, forearms resting on his thighs, “I warned you that you needed to handle the CWA delicately. You have the expertise to scout a raid, you do not know all the permutations of the legal code, Segkel.”

“But the Guild does,” Seg said, sitting up, “and they have every reason to fight this.”

Jarin let out a sharp breath of air through his nose. “Ah, so now you value the assistance of the Guild?”

“They have a role as well,” Seg conceded.

Ama paced, stopping between the two men. “Whatever you need to do, do it. Quit sitting here and act!”

“That attitude is precisely what brings us to this juncture,” Jarin said. “What we need to do is determine what can be done, if anything.”

Seg avoided Ama. Her very presence, her hope, was like the water that had once suffocated him. He spoke instead to Jarin, “Is there a legal avenue?”

“If there is, be assured the CWA has considered it. And blocked it,” Jarin answered. “What was the ostensible reason for your dismissal?”

Seg sat forward. “Lieutenant Kerbin brought a complaint against me.”

“Is there any merit to the complaint?” Jarin asked, studying Seg’s face.

“Depending on the interpretation of the events…”

“That is an affirmative, then,” Jarin said, then raised a hand to stop further discussion. “The lieutenant can be dealt with.”

Jarin stared through Seg for a moment, the severity of his expression betraying, in a brief flash, the darker side of his nature.

“You must understand,” Jarin continued, leaning back in his chair and resuming an air of contemplation, “this is no petty feud, Segkel. this is strategic and deliberate. The CWA is moving to sabotage the raid and undermine House Haffset in order to move on the House when it defaults. So be aware that when you plot your moves, they are plotting to counter you.”

Seg rubbed his hand over his face where his beard had been.

Ama stopped mid-pace and faced Jarin. “You’re saying it’s impossible? Seg can’t go back to my world? I can’t go back?” Her shoulders drooped, hope drained from her face.

“I wish it was not so,” Jarin answered.

Seg was not so easily deterred. “Fi Costk stated in front of witnesses that I could return if Kerbin’s complaint is removed. You said Kerbin can be dealt with. I can continue to plan for the raid as though I’m at the meetings and be ready to step in the moment I am reinstated.”

“Do you believe Fi Costk would make it that simple for you? You are overlooking something rather important, Segkel,” Jarin said. “Specifically, how do you intend to keep abreast of the latest planning developments and data interpretations while the legal obstacles for your return are cleared? That information is critical to the raid’s success.”

Seg shook his head. “I can model them independently.”

Jarin lowered his head and pierced Seg’s desperation with his stare.