Geosynchron (19 page)

The old Quell might have grumbled or offered some scathing com mentary under his breath. But this post-prison Quell seemed to be a
more patient fellow. He merely gave a measured look that indicated he
was neither surprised nor displeased at Jara's irritation. "I understand,"
he said. "But you don't know the position I'm in. There's things I can't
say yet. Not even to you, not even over ConfidentialWhisper, and definitely not in some bar in Andra Pradesh." He swept his hand around to
indicate the interior of Ostrich Egg, now thinning out as the soccer
game hit halftime. "Things need to happen out there in the Islands,
and they need to happen exactly the right way, or this could very
quickly become a much, much different world. I've got a lot of pressure on my shoulders, and I need people around who I trust. People
who can get things done. That's you. And Horvil, and the whole bloody
fiefcorp."

Jara finished her nitro. The stimulant had definitely kicked her
mental processor into high gear, but what help was that when she had
no data to process? She felt a small frisson of pleasure at being categorized as someone who could get things done, but under the circumstances, flattery was not sufficient motivation. "I'd like to help you,
Quell. I really would. But this isn't good enough. You vanished-off
to an orbital prison, I assume. You stood up in a courtroom and testified against the fiefcorp. Our fiefcorp, the one you used to be a part of.
And now you just sit down here and tell me to trust you. Well, I'm not
going to just trust you. You need to give me something tangible to
take back to the fiefcorp."

Quell's face broadened into a grin. "Understood," he said. "That's
why I brought money. Lots of money."

"A consulting job?" said Benyamin. "What the heck is that supposed to
mean?"

"I have no idea," said Jara.

"But what would we be doing?"

The fiefcorp master shrugged. "Programming. Advising. Problem
solving. Managing public relations. Isn't that what we do?"

Jara had gathered the fiefcorp together in one of the dingy conference rooms at the Kordez Thassel Complex. Jayze and Suheil couldn't
exactly forbid them from holding a meeting at the Surina Enterprise
Facility; the place was ostensibly open to all, and hosted hundreds of
organizations from across the political spectrum every day. But that
didn't make Jara feel any more comfortable handing over Vault credits
to them. So the Thassel Complex it was, with its peculiar Mobius strip
hallways and its sickly white furnishings. Their current conference
room was free from SeeNaRee as well, except for the virtual chairs
needed to make multi projections feel at home.

The rest of the company had taken their court setback with a large
helping of indifference. Horvil had never seemed particularly invested
in the lawsuit to begin with. Merri was more preoccupied with her
creed activities and caring for her companion Bonneth (who had
indeed suffered another health setback). Serr Vigal's despair over
Natch's disappearance had inured him to any further business misfortune. Benyamin was more irritated at the thought of capitulating to
slime like Jayze and Suheil than he was upset about losing any particular asset of the company's. And Robby Robby was nowhere to be
found, presumably off with another client.

"Quell really is asking a lot," said Merri. "He expects us to pick up
and follow him to a whole other civilization without saying what he
wants us to do there? That's quite a leap of faith. Some of us have lives
here and"-the channel manager flailed her hands around for a few seconds, searching for the right word-"responsibilities."

Jara was feeling quite philosophical about the whole thing.
"Hasn't it all been a leap of faith since the beginning?" she said.
"Natch never explained MultiReal when he asked us to sign up for his
new fiefcorp, did he?"

"That's because he didn't know anything about it," snapped Ben.

"Yes," replied Jara, "and Quell's made it clear that he doesn't know
exactly why he wants us in Manila with him either. There's trouble
down there of some kind-political, economical, business-related, I
don't know what-and Quell needs our help to resolve it."

"What do we know about this job?" asked Merri.

"We know it's highly secretive," said the fiefcorp master. "We
know it's potentially dangerous. And we know it's lucrative. That's
about it."

"Secretive, dangerous, and lucrative," muttered Horvil. "Our
specialty."

Benyamin crossed his arms over his chest. "I can understand why Quell
would want to hire us. The question is, why should we take the job?"

Jara gritted her teeth as she faced the young apprentice. Two months
ago, she had been completely exasperated by Benyamin's constant patter
of disagreement. But something had changed in those intervening two
months. At some point, they had come to an unspoken agreement: Ben
would stop treating Jara with contempt and disrespect, and in return,
she would listen to him and take him seriously. Their little bargain
seemed to be working pretty well so far. But that didn't mean there
weren't moments of supreme annoyance along the way.

"Listen, Ben," she said. "I think you're forgetting something crucial. This is a consulting job. It's not charity. It's real work, and Quell's
paying real money. He's already made a very nice down payment,
which means that his money's good."

"It also means the money's probably not his."

"That's true. I've never seen any indication that Quell's got a private fortune stashed away somewhere. No, don't ask-I really don't
have any clue whose money it is. Some creed? A governmental committee? That capitalman who lent Natch money a few months ago,
whatever his name was?"

"Krone," said Merri.

"Him. I just don't know. So yes, it's a little crazy to suggest that
you follow me to the Pacific Islands without having any idea why. But
here are two things I do know. One: if you want to succeed in the long
term, sometimes you have to sacrifice something that matters to you in
the short term. Two: we've got absolutely nothing going for us here
right now. Shitty programs. No direction. We don't even have a
ranking on the Primo's board anymore."

"So what about the trial?" said Ben. "Are we just going to give up?
Didn't Martika prepare a defense?"

"She did," said Jara. "But we all know that after Quell's testimony,
it's not going to fly. So I told Martika to go back to the Surinas and
settle. We probably won't get as good a deal as they were offering the
other day, but we might be able to save a few credits. Let them have
the title to MultiReal. It's worthless."

Surprised silence.

"This might be a fool's errand," continued Jara. "All I can tell you
is that Quell sits at the crossroads of everything important that's happening in the world right now. Islander ... programmer ... friend
and enemy of both the Surinas and the Council. He says he needs our
help, and he's willing to pay for it. I can't tell you why the company
needs to jump at this opportunity; we just do. I'm not ordering anyone
to go. If you disagree with my reasoning, you can stay here, without
penalty. I'm sure Horvil would be happy to turn his MindSpace workbench over to someone else to fix Y Not Ditch the Itch 18." Jara
extended her arm towards the engineer, who she suddenly realized had
barely said a word the entire meeting. "Horv?"

Horvil looked up from the tabletop, which he had been studying
with deep concentration for some minutes now. He gave a sidelong
look at Serr Vigal, who had not spoken at all since his arrival in the
conference room. "I think what you're saying makes perfect sense,
Jara," said the engineer, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "I would
go if I could ... but I've already committed to doing something else."

Jara blanched. "Which is?"

The engineer and the neural programmer turned to each other and
exchanged a few silent words over ConfidentialWhisper. After a
minute, they seemed to arrive at some conclusion. Serr Vigal cleared
his throat. "Horvil and I have decided to look for Natch," he said.

Nobody said anything for a good twenty seconds.

"I understand that you all ... you all have your reasons for feeling
like you do about Natch," continued Vigal haltingly, fiddling with a
frayed hem on his robe. "I can't pretend to vouch for his behavior these
past few months. Or even ... these past few years. But things are different for Horvil and me. We ... I raised him. I was his legal guardian
for sixteen years."

"And I've been his best friend for over twenty years," added
Horvil. "Maybe ... fuck, maybe his only friend." He giggled. "I
wonder if that says more about me than it says about Natch."

Serr Vigal clasped his hands on the tabletop now, not in a gesture of
entreaty, but rather a demonstration of firmness. "Wherever he is, whatever happened to him after the Tul Jabbor Complex, we can't just
abandon him. He could be hurt. He could be in pain. He needs our help."

Jara gave the neural programmer a firm and judicious nod. Despite
her own history of acrimony with Natch, standing in his place at the
head of the fiefcorp had given her a new appreciation for what he had
been through. There had been many decision points in the past two
months where a Machiavellian solution like one that Natch would
dream up seemed like the best choice-and Jara had cursed her own
weakness at being unable to make that choice. She would never love
the man. But she couldn't bring herself to despise him either. Natch's
was simply a misguided soul, and if there were two people who could
guide him back onto a more fruitful path, it was Horvil and Serr Vigal.
Her only reservation was a selfish one: this would mean separation
from Horvil for who knew how long. But that was hardly the basis for
making a decision of this caliber.

The fiefcorp master turned to the others. "So I guess that leaves the
three of us?"

"The three of us," replied Merri.

Benyamin folded his hands into a tight ball and stared at them
intently. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, the young
apprentice nodded and sat back in his chair. "Three," he said.

13

Horvil had agreed with Serr Vigal about the necessity of starting their
search for Natch "bright and early." Except the engineer's and the
neural programmer's definitions of the term were almost completely at
variance, like antipodes on the globe. And so when the neural programmer showed up at the hotel the next morning with baggage in
hand, having taken a midnight hoverbird from Omaha, Horvil was
quite perplexed. Try as he might, he could see nothing bright on the
streets of Andra Pradesh that wasn't man-made.

"Looks like you're packed for quite a journey," said Horvil, eyeing
the faux-leather suitcase Vigal had deposited in the vestibule. "Are you
sure we even need to go anywhere? Seems to me we have just as strong
a chance of finding him in multi."

The neural programmer shook his head. "I'm afraid this is going
to require some detective work, Horvil. We need to be prepared to go
wherever the trail leads us."