Time's Chariot (4 page)

Rico was amused to see looks of relief on the
faces of some of the students, which they tried to
hide, when it finally dawned on them that they were
back home. He knew they were slaves of their conditioning.
The past was officially a nasty, dirty place
where people had no social preparation and were
cruel and mean to each other, as recent events had
shown. For these poor sods, Rico thought, when the
past was compared and contrasted with the
controlled environment of an ecopolis, coming
back to the Home Time was like returning to the
womb.

And that was why the authorities were happy to
let the impression abide. For Rico, on the other
hand, returning to the Home Time was more and
more depressing every time he did it.

Su was discharging the last of her duties. 'All of
you, shut your eyes until I tell you to open them.'
They all did so, and felt the warmth of the decon
field flow around them, making them safe for reentry
into the Home Time. 'You can open them
now. Place your specimens in those containers
there, please, for scanning . . . Thank you. I now
declare this excursion to be over. Walk slowly
through the exit . . .'

They were the last two to leave. Like Su, Rico
held up his arm and touched the 'release' icon that
appeared there. By his elbow a small flap of skin
appeared, which he took between thumb and
forefinger and pulled. There was a tingling as the
computer disengaged from his nervous system and
what looked like the skin of his forearm peeled
away, leaving the real skin reddened but healthy
beneath it. His arm was shaved but still he winced
as it snagged on a couple of budding hairs.

'Thank you for the trip, Register,' Su said as they
walked out of the chamber and into the huge,
multi-tiered vault of the transference hall.

'My pleasure, Op Zo,' said a friendly voice out of
the air.

'But before you go . . .' said another voice
behind them. Rico groaned beneath his breath,
and they turned to face the red-outlined symb projection
that had appeared in the middle of the
room. The eidolon showed a short, squat man: Rico
had heard him called 'Toad Face' and had never
understood the epithet, until he had actually seen a
toad on a field trip. Then he had understood
perfectly.

'Supervisor Marlici,' said Su, taking the initiative
as senior partner. 'What can we do for you?'

'I'll come straight to the point,' Marlici said. He
had full, wet lips which, Rico reflected, seemed
made to quiver with indignation. It was the state in
which he usually saw them. 'No beating about the
bush, no prevarication. I've received a formal complaint
from the office of the Commissioner of
Correspondents about you, Op Garron, and by
extension, you, Op Zo. Well?'

The vindictive bitch!
Rico opened his mouth—

'May we know the substance of this complaint?'
Su asked.

'The complaint,' Marlici said, 'is that Op Garron
bothered the Acting Commissioner in the late
Commissioner Daiho's apartment this morning. I
won't go into details –' he smiled thinly – 'but the
words "absurd speculation" and "grotesque
fantasies" were heard to be uttered.' Rico's cheeks
began to burn. 'None of this would be my concern,
of course, if you were off duty, but at the time you
were on duty. I'm consumed with curiosity as to
what you were doing in the Commissioner's suite,
and why Op Garron impersonated a Security
Op, and why you, Op Zo, let him. Well?'

Something inside Rico snapped and he took a
step forward. 'This is—'

Su put a hand on his arm. 'We were there on official
business, sir,' she said.

'Re-ally?' Marlici seemed to enjoy drawing out
the word. 'Do tell me how, when I knew nothing of
it.'

'Rico?' Su said. Rico breathed deeply, twice,
before answering.

'On my last but one field trip,' he said, 'I failed
to download all the information I had stored in my
field computer. I needed to get the computer back.
When I asked for it, I learned it had been signed
out again.'

'You think you have a special right to equipment?'
said Marlici. Rico suspected that his
explanation was sounding far too reasonable and
Marlici was determined to find fault somehow.

'I don't recall saying that, sir,' he said. 'It had
been signed out again by Commissioner Daiho. I
tried to contact him so that I could copy the data
over. He wasn't available but the Register arranged
things with his household so that we could go there
and retrieve the computer ourselves. Which we
did, and met the Acting Commissioner.'

So there
, he added silently.
Stick that in your
chamber and transfer it
.

'I see.' The smile had left Marlici's face the
moment Rico mentioned the Register. What
the Register chose to do was not subject to the
whims of any Supervisor. However, Marlici rallied
quickly. 'And impersonating a Security Op?' Su
opened her mouth. 'I was addressing Op Garron,'
he said.

'I identified myself as Op Garron,' Rico said. 'I
said nothing about Security.' He tried not to smile.
Two points down: Marlici was running out of
ammunition. 'Now, sir, if you'll excuse us . . .'

'One moment. The last thing.'
Damn
. 'These, ah,
theories with which you regaled the Acting
Commissioner?'

'Theories, sir?' Rico said with reluctance. Su was
looking at him and very slightly shaking her head.

'Apparently you speculated as to whether the
agravs were sabotaged.'

'I did not!' Rico exclaimed. 'I just said—'

'Op Garron,' Marlici said, 'you're a Field
Operative. You escort away parties upstream. You
are a hired gun, you are not a detective and you
don't pursue your paranoid delusions on College
time, is that understood? And you, Op Zo, as senior
partner should know better than to let this . . .
this spoo—'

Marlici caught himself, though Rico was wishing
him on.
Go on, say it! Spookboy! And then I can report
you for abusive language, and won't that be fun?

'Individual,' said Marlici – and Rico thought,
damn!
– 'get into situations beyond the capacity of
his atrophied brain cells to comprehend.' He drew
himself up and looked down his nose at Su, the
only one of the pair he
could
look down at.
Official
prat pose number one
, Rico thought. 'Op Zo, unofficially,
you are warned. Op Garron, officially, you
are reprimanded.' He paused to savour Rico's
expression. 'Do you know, that's a total of two
reprimands on your record,' he murmured in an
aside to himself. 'Dear oh dear.'

The eidolon vanished, leaving them both looking
at the space where it had been.

Su spoke first. She reached out and touched
Rico's shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Rico.'

'Bitch!' The word burst out and Su looked taken
aback, until she realized it wasn't directed at her.
'That spiteful, malicious . . .
bitch!
'

'Rico . . .'

'A reprimand? A reprimand, for . . . for what?
Was I rude to her? Did I insult her? Did I assault
her? Su, did I even mention Security? Can I help it
if she got it wrong? I thought maybe, just maybe she
might be a teensy bit more human than the other
high-and-mighties, worked up through the ranks
and all that, but no, she's Acting Commissioner for
five minutes and suddenly she's as bad as the rest of
them.'

'Rico . . .' Su said again.

'And I wanted her on our side! Well, forget
that—'

'Op Garron, shut up,' Su said. 'We don't have a
side, remember? You'd love there to be foul play
but there wasn't. He died naturally and if there was
something about the agravs, Security will find it.
For us, it's over, Rico.'

Rico was silent for a moment. He reached up
and fondled her hand that was still on his shoulder.
'Yeah, it's over. Su, there's two reprimands on my
record now. I can't afford a third.' A third, they
both knew, meant automatic suspension pending a
formal inquiry into conduct.

'You won't get it if you behave.'

Rico snorted. 'Yeah, easy to say, Su. How many
have you had? Somewhere between nought and
none, isn't it? But not me. The spookboy makes
another balls-up. You noticed that, didn't you? He
almost said it.'

Spookboy
. Or
spookgirl
, of course. Someone not
born in the Home Time, and in certain quarters, a
term of purest contempt.

'Oh, Rico . . .'

'I'm sorry I got you into it too, Su. Next time my
paranoid delusions start to take over, say to me, "Op
Garron, your paranoid delusions are taking over." I
promise I won't mind.'

'I'll remember that. Shall we get the Register to
witness?'

Rico twitched the corners of his mouth, but it
was more to make an effort for her than to show
genuine mirth. 'Nah. I enjoy getting paranoid.
Senior Field Op Su Zo, I believe we're off duty?'

'We are now.'

'Then I'm off to pursue my fantasies. Should be
safe as long as it's not on College time.'

'Fancy a drink?'

'Thanks, but . . .' He shook his head. 'Go and see
your family, Su.' He walked towards the exit of the
hall with his resentment like a dark, heavy lump,
deep inside him. It was festering nicely.

Rico was still angry as the taxi approached the sheer
white coral cliffs of Azania ecopolis. The breathtaking
view as the taxi passed over the ecopolis'
organic building clusters and parks, lights glowing
in the night, had a slightly pacifying effect. It
reminded him of how far he had come in his life.
To keep his ire going, he started to mutter 'bitch,
bitch, bitch' under his breath.

The taxi threw itself at the land coral cliff that
was the residence cluster where he lived, and
dropped effortlessly into one of the taxi ways that
ran sponge-like through and around the structure.
After another minute, it drew to a halt as close to
his community module as it was going to get.
Door-to-door service wasn't an option at his social
level. Community modules in this section were
arranged around a large mock Aztec plaza, complete
with looming jungle in the background and
insect noises, which at this time of night was empty,
so he was spared having to mix with his neighbours.
He and they never really got on: technically their
memeplexes all contributed equally to the
consensus running of the module, but when you're
in a minority it's easy to be over-ruled and overlooked
by the majority. It is especially easy when
that majority is afraid of you because they know full
well you have more relaxed social preparation than
they do and that you actively prefer not being in the
Home Time.

His anger was nicely peaking as he reached the
door of his own module. Externally, it seemed to be
an adobe hut. The suites here were all for single
persons and he shared the module with nine
others, but they too were all asleep and he could
get to his own place without breaking his pace or
train of thought.

'Aggression therapy,' he said out loud as he
walked into his main room. Inside was very
different, comfortable and minimally decorated in
a completely Home Time style. 'Level five.'

'Welcome home, Rico. Would you not rather
shower and change first?' The voice of the household
made him look down at himself. He was still in
the fieldsuit he had worn for the Brazil trip.
Normally he would have showered and changed
back at the College; indeed, normally he would
have showered, changed, and had a meal and a
drink with Su, or perhaps been invited back to the
Zos' suite in a Pacifican multi-family module where
Uncle Rico was already a hit with the next
generation, in his capacity as mobile climbing
frame.

Normally. Today was different.

'I'm already hot and sweaty,' he said. 'Let's go.'

'Very well,' said the module.

Rico walked into the aggression room, which was
white, sterile and padded, without anything hard to
fall against. The dummy was waiting for him, poised
for combat. Level five meant it would make at least
a few moves to fight back. He hurled himself at it
without warning, bringing it down in a tackle
around the hips. While it wriggled to get free he
pinned it down, sitting astride its chest, and proceeded
to pummel its blank, yielding face.

This was no good. Too easy.

'Stand and go to level ten,' he said. He and the
dummy squared off, and this time the dummy came
for him. He seized its arm, twisted round and sent
it over his shoulder. The dummy recovered and
spun round, and its foot came for his head. He
ducked under it and kicked both feet out at the
dummy's groin, breaking his fall with a roll that
brought him back to his feet again.

'Full attack and defence,' he said. This would be
no holds barred and he spent a joyous five minutes
blocking, parrying and lunging, occasionally letting
one of the dummy's safely padded blows get
through his defence. He had programmed it with
the full course that any field operative had to
undertake – a blend of the best of the many forms
of unarmed martial arts from humanity's history. It
was as good as any machine was allowed to get when
it came to possibly hurting a human; in other
words, it was as close a match as social preparation
would ever allow him to have with anyone.

'Enough,' he said eventually, with a broad grin
on his face. He collapsed against one of the walls
and slid down it, panting. On the other side of the
room the dummy did likewise. Even at those times
when the victory was clearly and distinctly his, it
somehow diminished the triumph of the moment
to have him lying panting on the floor while the
dummy stood passively over him. 'Assess,' he said.

'Blows that connected: seventy-two per cent of
your own, forty-eight per cent of the dummy's.'

'Pretty good. Pretty bloody good.' If he had
actually tried to hurt a human being within the
Home Time then social preparation and his symb
connection would have done their best to
immobilize him, but there was nothing to stop him
pretending
that the dummy had been Acting
Commissioner Marje Orendal.