Young Rissa (9 page)

“You can forget two of those names. Harnain's red-tabbed here and on Terranova — by the time you could get there, I mean — at the least. As well as on Earth. Mostly on suspicion, Erika thinks, but still — there it is. The other, though — Kerguelen — I'm forgetting I ever heard that one, and I suggest you do the same.”
 

Her hand made a sidewise, brushing motion. “Yes — perhaps — probably. But what about the UET agent? No one followed me today.”
 

“You were booked through to Terranova; he went on to there. I checked around, as Erika's letter requested, and I'm pretty sure he hired some local talent to watch for you when the
MacNamara
showed up. Would he have a picture of you to give them?”
 

“I should not think so. Only a description, if that.” Osallin's fingers worried his left earlobe. “After you got off the ship, how long were you visible as Harnain?” “Hardly at all. I came aground wearing a cape with the hood up, and obtained a groundcab almost immediately. Once inside it I donned a veil; before that, I coughed occasionally to give me the excuse to hold a handkerchief to my nose and mouth. The driver would not recognize me — and the next time anyone saw my face, it was this one.”
 

“Hmm.” The man's fingers drummed on the desk. “If UET's locals don't have boarding clearance, likely they didn't spot you. If they do, they're employees and can't get off-port until their shifts end. Either way, they can't connect Harnain with Obrigo. Except . . .”
 

“Through the driver?” She shook her head. “That one was too busy arguing with some functionary about where it was permitted to park and to pick up passengers. She did not look at me — more than a brief glance — until I was veiled.”
 

“But if an employee paid by UET saw you and saw the driver? Your clothing — ”
 

Rissa laughed. “Osallin, there is no such thing as assured immunity. But Erika taught me to gauge odds, and here I adjudge them good. Only one thing perturbs me —
why
should UET go to so much trouble regarding the person whose name we have agreed to forget? Not the money, surely — to UET, that must be a trifle.”
 

Osallin scowled. “Erika didn't give you enough background. Perhaps even
she
doesn't realize how rigid the UET's policies are.”
 

“And neither do I. Will you tell me?”
 

“It's simple — they
won't
lose face. You got fame when you won the lottery, and notoriety when you escaped North America — now you're an Underground hero until they catch you. They don't like that.”
 

“No.” Rissa managed a shaky laugh. “I suppose they don't. But out
here
— so far away, so many years?”
 

“If you're caught, they profit. A trifle, you say? Perhaps not so trifling, with Erika handling your affairs over the course of years. But that money on Earth is untouchable until you're in custody or proved dead. Then, with a little routine chicanery, it's UET's.” He Waved away her protest. “And don't forget — you paid your way but their agents ride free, except for the wasted years of their lifetimes. To UET, the cost of pursuit is trivial.”
 

She shuddered. “They are not human, are they?”
 

“Of course they are.” His tone was cheerful. “Wherever did you get the idea that ‘human' is a synonym for ‘good'?” She could find no answer.
 

“Well, then, Tari Obrigo, it's time you looked at what Erika sent you.” She leafed through the papers; all was as she and Madame Hulzein had agreed. One-half the profits of Rissa's investments, after commission, forwarded to — and later through — Osallin's agency. Any net loss over a given period would be carried against future gains, but this initial profit voucher was over 1,000,000 Weltmarks. She calculated five percent and wrote a draft to Osallin's credit before inspecting the other material.
 

She sensed that the man was looking at her and raised her head to return his gaze. He said, “Are Erika's reports satisfactory?”
 

“Oh, yes.” She paused, frowning. “Need I tell you that I trust Erika — and by her word, you also?”
 

Osallin exhaled a deep breath. “Hah!” Gently his closed fist thumped the desk. “That's what I wanted to hear. Now, then — what comes next? Where do you go? Or do I need to know that?”
 

She nodded, swinging the dark curls. “Of course you do, if we are to work together. But where? I do not yet know.”
 

“You don't? I would have thought — ”
 

“Where do the Escaped Ships go? The Hidden Worlds . . .”
 

Silently he looked at her, then said, “So that's it. I should have known.”
 

“I do not understand you. Where
else
would I wish to go?”
 

His hand kneaded the stump at his right shoulder. “She's been wanting a look-in there — I knew that, of course — and why not? And so here you are.”
 

“Erika? She will not be
alive
, Osallin, when I get . . . there, wherever. Or at least, not when word from me could reach Earth. This is entirely my idea, not Erika's.”
 

“The Hulzeins aren't too proud to use others' ideas. And of all people, they're specially equipped to take the long view.”
 

Rissa pondered his words. “What do you mean?”
 

His eyes narrowed. “Do you know who Erika
is
— and Frieda? Do you know about the others?”
 

“What others? What has anyone else to do with it?”
 

“Erika's mother, Renalle. And Heidele, her grandmother.”
 

She shook her head. “No. She said nothing of them. Why — ?”
 

“The Hulzein Establishment,” he said. “Founded by Heidele, inherited by Renalle and then Erika, with Frieda next in line. And what has Frieda named her daughter?”
 

“I did not know she had one. Does she? And how can you know it would be a daughter?”
 

“She'll have one by now, if she can. And the Hulzeins have no sons
 

— parthenogenesis doesn't work that way.” She gasped. “Of course. I know about Erika and Frieda, yes. But — how many?” His chuckle conveyed no humor. “Frieda's daughter would be the
 

fifth of the line. That's why I'm worried.”
 

“Again, Osallin, I do not understand you.”
 

“The copy-machine effect,” he said. “What happens when you make a copy of a copy of a copy? You lose the fine detail; that's what. And when it's genetic endowment you're dealing with . . .”
 

He shrugged. “It wasn't a problem with the one-parent children late in the previous century, the fad that sprang up among the extreme elements of Female Liberation. Those offspring were — haploid, I think the term is — and infertile.”
 

“I have heard of the movement, but very little about it.”
 

“It died under UET, with all the rest of freedom.” He scratched his nose. “Anyway, I'm not sure whether it was Heidele herself or someone else who developed the gene-replication system of parthenogenesis, to produce fertile offspring. But I know the rest of the history pretty well.
 

“The method never worked perfectly, but Heidele was lucky; she got Renalle on the first try, I hear. Renalle had two miscarriages and one monster — destroyed, of course — before Erika. And Erika — I don't know the details but it took her fifteen years to produce Frieda — with some serious congenital defects.” “I — I did not know . . .” “Well, you wouldn't — they were correctible, mostly. But my point is, if Frieda doesn't introduce outside genes — have herself a two-parent child — the Hulzein line may end with her. And then what happens to the Establishment? How do we trust someone we've never met, who's
not
essentially our friend Erika, or even personally selected by her?”
 

The idea was new; she considered it. Time and space; yes. “We will have to. Just as I will someday have to trust — whoever succeeds you here, if I travel between worlds to any extent.”
 

He grinned. “True. Except that I'm relying on my judgment, not my genes, when it's time to choose that successor.”
 

Slowly, she nodded. “Yes, I see the difference. But you have a reason for telling me all this. What is it?”
 

“I suggest that you transfer more of your assets out of Hulzein hands and Hulzein knowledge. And build yourself at least one identity that's not in Erika's records. Just in case. That's what I'm doing.” Once more he grinned. “And if you think a convincing, operative prosthetic arm isn't costing me a packet — think again!”
 

She frowned, they slowly nodded. “Yes, of course. Erika would approve, if she allowed herself to see the problem.”
 

“Maybe she does see it. I'm merely providing against the chance that she doesn't.”
 

“Yes.” She thought. “Perhaps, Osallin, you can help me with the new identity before I leave here?”
 

“Certainly. You have a name in mind, and other details?”
 

She considered. “Laura Konig — blue eyes, light brown hair, native to this planet or brought here as an infant. Other details as you choose. All right?”
 

“Good enough. And I don't keep detailed records of such matters. Only the names — no cross-references, except in my head.”
 

“Good. It is settled then. Now — can you get me contact with an Escaped Ship? And if so, how soon?”
 

“Hmmm — you missed one here, by about a week. The next — ”
 

“Last week? No — I saw the board at the port. The only recent departure was UET's
J.E. Hoover
.”
 

Osallin laughed. “
Our
part of Far Corner knows, so no harm in telling you. The
Hoover
— if it were known to be Escaped it wouldn't appear on the port's docket. But Bernardez, the new captain — he's smart enough to forward faked reports to Earth. Quite handy — until UET eventually catches on — for an Escaped Ship to keep its pipeline open to information and Weltmarks.”
 

“Then Escape is on a larger scale than Earth realizes?”
 

“Considerably. Erika — the Hulzeins — will know about the
Hoover
when they get my next dispatches. But with luck the Committee may be fooled for a long time yet.” He opened a drawer and brought out a bottle and two glasses. “Let's drink to luck!”
 

The amber liquid was clear and sparkling; they touched glasses and she sipped. “This is new to me. It is quite tart; I like it. Is it a local product?”
 

“From the forest yonder; the berry grows on a parasitic vine. Funny thing — in the raw state it's deadly poison and
smells
like it. Heat of distillation breaks up the alkaloid molecule.”
 

“You know a lot about Far Corner, Osallin.”
 

“That's my business. Part of it, anyway.”
 

“Yes. Now — about other Escaped Ships. Do you know — ?”
 

He shook his head. “Nothing definite; only rumor. It could be two weeks, or six months — depending on what kind of planet you want to go to.”
 

“Kind? What kinds are there? And where?”
 

“I don't know where. Ships don't give out that information — you can see why. The Hidden Worlds have names or numbers, and the ships will tell you about climates and populations — things like that, so you won't end up on a swamp planet if you prefer deserts. But actual locations are secret. What you and I don't know, we can't let slip to the wrong parties.”
 

“Of course. But you can put me in touch?”
 

“And recommend you.” He looked at his watch. “My next appointment's overdue. Oh, it's all right, Tari — it won't hurt for them to simmer a little before they hear my offer. But I judge that the time's about right. So if you'll excuse me? I've enjoyed talking with you. Oh, yes — you're staying where?”
 

She stood. “At the First Ever, near the edge of town.”
 

“Good. But it isn't, you know — the first, I mean. The third built here, maybe. But the others are gone now — burned or torn down. So I don't blame old Charling for boosting his place a bit.”
 

She extended her own left hand, so the handshake was less awkward. “When shall I — ?”
 

“I'll send word; wait for it. Meanwhile — get out and see the country, why don't you? The worlds are so far apart — it's a shame to be on one and waste it.”
 

“That is a good suggestion. Thank you, Osallin.” Rissa turned and left. In the lobby a man and woman argued. She waited a moment. The receptionist called a name; the two rose, still bickering, and went to the staircase. She resisted the urge to smile; the wait had softened them up for Osallin, well enough.
 

 

In the chilly twilight of Far Corner's short day she walked back to the First Ever. The landlord greeted her. “Have a good stroll, Ms. Obrigo?”