Tomorrow’s Heritage (13 page)

Years in which to learn what the alien messenger would teach them.

“SE Three TS, you are cleared to land VFR. Welcome back, sir.”

“Thank you,” Todd told the unseen controller. “That you, Jessups?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How’s the wife and kids?”

“Got a new one, sir—a boy.”

Todd twisted in his seat and winked at Mariette. She remembered the man, too. He had been in the family’s employ for years. “Is that so? We’ll have to bring him a present next trip, maybe a free-fall balloon.” Mari clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a guffaw. Dian just looked pained at the very tired Spacer’s joke.

“Uh . . . yes, sir. That’d be nice; he’d enjoy it, I know. See you in a little while, Mr. Saunder.”

Todd followed the track, idly cueing the weather pickups and navstar corrections. The would-be hurricane in the eastern Atlantic which he spotted a week ago had dissipated, but another was coming up from farther south and west in the ocean and looked as if it might turn into something nasty in a few days. Saunderhome would have to button down. Navstar confirmed that the flier was dead on course, not a second’s deviation. Todd felt smug. He could still match the autoprogramming for everything but really tiring, long-distance flying.

There was a natural line of outer reefs which Jael’s climate engineers had strengthened and extended into a massive seawall after the hurricane of ‘33. Todd cut speed drastically and dropped down so Dian could get a good look at the wall and the tidal energy generators outside. Then he noticed new construction activity along the reefs. The seawall had been raised at least three meters in some places, more in others. There were gaps around the perimeter, where sunken constructs bridged the space. Todd recognized the heavy metal under the water. Defense gates. If needed, they could lift up and block all the gaps, forming a solid barrier against seacraft. He wondered what that was all about. Was Jael expecting trouble from Saunderhome’s island neighbors? Or was she just getting neurotic and expecting an invasion? Nobody had tried a sea attack since the last century, not unless it was to coordinate with aerial strikes. Maybe that was it. But what did Jael plan to do about the “enemy in the air”?

He banked, following the perimeter reefs in a swooping arc, and saw the answer. The inner walls were bunkers. Most of them were camouflaged with jungle greenery and similar disguises to trick the pilot’s eye, but one or two were still under construction. How could he have missed all this the last time he flew in? Then Todd remembered. He had been reading some files and had the ship on auto. He must have flown right over the new defense line and not even noticed it.

How far down did the bunkers go? Saunderhome was built on an extensive and deep reef. An artificial bedrock could be created in the shallower waters, thanks to modern technology. He bad an uneasy feeling that the bunkers were occupied by some of Saunderhome’s now-ubiquitous security force, perhaps armed with anti-aerial weapons and missiles.

Not here, too! Was Geosynch HQ the only place where he needn’t feel as if he were in a fortress?

Neither Pat nor Jael had told him a damned thing about this, or why any of it was necessary. But then Mari and Kevin hadn’t warned him about the possibility of a missile attack on Goddard, either.

Mariette had been very quiet while he made the circle of the perimeter. Dian, too, remained silent. Todd knew they must be thinking the same things he was, worrying about it. Mari tried to distract them. “Make a wide swing and come buzzing, like we used to. Give Dian the whole thing from a skid-ride angle.”

“Okay, but be sure you’re strapped in snug.”

He took them down another notch and swerved northwest, cutting power still further with a little climb. Then he fell over on the wing and rushed across the island complex, barely clearing the palms and the miniature mountain topping the main isle. They almost hovered as Todd balanced the ship skillfully. Dian sucked in her breath, hanging onto the safety bar.

The inner perimeter hadn’t altered noticeably. The boat passages through the secondary reefs and under the connecting bridges were busy with servants’ craft bustling from the main delivery docks out to the maintenance reefs and storage islands. People looked up from tending lawns, piloting boats, or working in the gardens, recognized the flier, and waved greetings. Mariette waved back enthusiastically, and Todd dipped the wings.

“Fruit and vegetable gardens,” Mariette said, nodding to the left. Dian stretched her neck, trying to see, and Todd banked for her convenience. “Ward and Jael always loved fresh tropical food. And that’s the old heliport. They wore that one out before Earth opened Orleans Terminal. Now it’s easier to transfer there to our hangars and fly out from the coast, wherever we’re coming planetside from.” Todd dived very low over the helipad on the eastern shore, then pulled up hard to miss the line of tall trees on the slopes leading up to the main house.

Mariette looked behind them, still describing, the heliport. “V.I.P.s flew in here day and night when CNAU was negotiating to take in the Caribbean.” Grass was encroaching on the asphalt, evidence of how little the old landing spot was used nowadays. “Jael turned this place into a summit for the big shots while they figured out how to carve up a hemisphere . . .”

“Mari,” Todd said. “Truce. You promised.”

“Oh, all right.” She stabbed a long finger below them. “The family castle. Complete with moat. We’ve got bridges, too, but no drawbridge. Jael’s the dragon. Okay, okay, Todd. No more!”

The mansion had never stopped growing. A new terrace had just been added to one of the guest wings. Much of the huge house was sunken in the island’s natural hills. Top stories and extensions seemed to grow out of the lush slopes. Glass, polished metal, volcanic facing—all made Saunderhome unique. There was no other national or quasi-national retreat like this in the world. It lay in the hollow of the island’s hand, paths snaking between swaying trees and jungle growth, surrounded by clean beaches and visitors’ bungalows, each with its private dock. Shallow, brilliantly clear waters ringed the main island. In the mid-day Sun, the submerged tunnels connecting Saunderhome with the outer reefs seemed to shift with the gently rippling water.

“Rain or shine, you can go anywhere you want to here,” Mariette said of the tunnels and small bridges. “Anywhere as long as you aren’t afraid of heights or underwater passageways.”

“It’s all very impressive,” Dian said diplomatically. Todd wondered if she was bitter. She must be thinking of the tremendous cost; Saunderhome, rising like a jewel from the waters while pandemic and war racked the world she had grown up in. If Dian was angry, she didn’t show it.

Todd completed the flyby and banked on the opposite end of the run, coming about toward the beach landing strip on the westernmost outer island. He came in fast. Maintenance kept the strip in superb shape. Dian tried not to tense up. She knew they were coming in low for a regulation landing, no longer daredevil sightseeing. Mariette fidgeted while they rolled toward the hangars, anxious for them to be there.

He cut down to taxi and rolled up close to the waiting group of staffers. Jael’s flier was out on the strip, being washed and tuned up. Two more Saunder aircraft sat on the auxiliary strips, apparently being readied for trips to the mainland or to other islands. Dark shapes inside the hangar were surrounded by large piles of tools and equipment. Todd wondered what sort of repairs would necessitate that much hardware.

He closed the comp log and cued the door. Softly, the ports swung open wide like unfolding wings, and steps with safety handrails untelescoped from the flier’s side. Staffers were already back by the cargo bay, ready to start unloading when Todd released the seal. A maintenance tram was maneuvering at the ship’s nose, hooking up to tow her in close to the hangars for checking over and refueling. A couple of fringed-canopy tray-carts waited nearby. Staff were already loading the second one with the baggage.

Despite the handrails, eager hands reached up to steady Dian and Mari and Todd as they climbed down the steps. Todd politely shrugged off an attempt to take the holo-mode case from him. He arched his back, stretching, drawing a deep breath. The atmosphere at Saunderhome always seemed cleaner and more invigorating than air anywhere else on the planet. Perhaps it was boyhood impression, deeply ingrained. Whenever they had flown to Saunderhome during those bad years, it was an escape from pandemic, conflagration, the rat population explosion, and all variety of disasters. The landings here on the island brought freedom, a sense of having been let loose from prison—or from a death sentence.

A stocky black man separated himself from the other bustling staffers and hurried toward them. Todd noticed a slight hesitation in his gait. The man’s face was whole, a masterpiece of electro-stimulus healing and surgical reconstruction, a lot of that. He was smiling at them, his broad dark face split in a wide grin.

Roy Paige. Alive. And yet Todd saw him half dead, memories ruthlessly thrusting him eleven years into the past. Reminders, appropriate to the reason for this family reunion. Roy Paige was the last person to see Ward Saunder alive, before the waves had closed over him forever.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ooooooooo

“Hi, there!” Paige called to them. “Good flight?”

“Fine! Smooth as—” Todd broke off, realizing the older man wasn’t listening. He was looking past Todd, at Mariette. Todd moved aside as the two of them moved toward each other, embracing warmly. When the emotional moment eased up, he said, “Dian, this is Roy Paige, an old friend, a very good friend. Roy, Dian Foix.”

Paige let go of Mariette and offered his hand. “I’m very proud to meet you, Dr. Foix. I mean that sincerely.”

Dian didn’t look down at the myoelectrically operated fingers gripping hers. She reacted to the warm yet lifeless touch very nicely. Todd had seen people recoil involuntarily from contact with Roy’s prosthesis, even though the limb was a superb copy of a human arm and hand.

“I’m honored to meet you, too, Mr. Paige. Read about your work with Ward Saunder. One article said you taught him everything he knew.” A lilt was creeping into Dian’s voice. She was beginning to drop certain sounds and slur others, recognizing a fellow United Ghetto States expatriate.

Paige, too, slipped into former inflections. “That’d be a brother’s article. Didn’t hardly happen that way. The boss taught
me
. Wish I’d been smart enough to take it all in. Heard ‘bout you. I ‘member your grandmother. Immortal lady.
Im-mort-al
. You take after her. I see you been workin’ on this one,” he said slyly, jerking a thumb in Todd’s direction. “Long overdue for shapin’ up. You’ll make him straighten out and fly level. Glad he’s finally gettin’ some taste in his women . . .”

“You say that ‘bout all the ComLink women you meet?” Dian said, enjoying the flattery but not swallowing it. Mariette was smirking at them both. So was Todd.

“Huh! I would if he’d bring ‘em to Saunderhome. First chance I’ve had to look you over.” Paige waved at the lead tray-cart. “Got orders to hustle you on over to the main island before it gets too hot. Shall we go?”

Mari and Roy Paige led the way, Todd and Dian a few paces behind. Todd watched his sister and Roy, countless similar scenes replaying in his mind. Mariette was taller than the black man now. But there was a time when she had skipped along by his knee, her tiny hand hidden in his big brown one. After the accident, Mari was the one who made the quickest adjustment to Roy’s prostheses. Then, as now, she would slow her long stride to allow for his occasionally hesitant steps. He barely limped at all, but there were limits to what medicine could do. The teasing, uncle-and-niece relationship remained as warm as ever.

Dian slid across the narrow tray-cart seat to make room, and Todd climbed in beside her. Mariette sat up front with Roy. The canopy fringe waved in a warm breeze as they rolled away from the airstrip, taking the paved path leading toward the mansion. Glass and metal reflected sunlight dazzlingly, and the sea and the waters inside the reefs shimmered and sparkled. Todd was forced to squint against the glare despite the tinted lenses he was wearing. The tray-cart rode silently over a little rise, snaking between a row of tall palms. Ahead, beyond the bridge, Saunderhome loomed like a fairy castle transported to the tropics.

Dian snuggled close to him. “It’s beautiful. And the air’s so
clean!
” Todd smiled contentedly, his arm about her, the precious case riding securely at his feet. “That’s a lot of sunlight,” Dian added thoughtfully. “With the eroded ozone and this heavy solar input . . .”

“Saunderhome has its own medical facility,” Todd said, amused by her concern. “It passes out sunscreen with breakfast every day. No problems.”

“Well, that’s good. I mean, Roy and us other properly skinned folks are okay, but I wouldn’t want you to get UV-scorched, lover.”

Dian made it sound like a joke, but Todd wished she hadn’t brought the matter up. Ozone erosion. Another marvelous goody left over from some of the turn-of-the-century wars. It was one of the details Goddard Colony’s planetside political supporters kept bringing up in their orations—hammering home how mankind had nearly wrecked its planet and made it unsafe for life. Earth First countered by promising to salvage Earth and not repeat past mistakes. After all, humanity had coped with the ozone depletion with human ingenuity and modern pharmaceuticals.

And the debate went on.

Todd noticed several men walking along the inner reef near the bridge. Not regular staffers, but they didn’t look like Saunderhome’s sort of outside visitors, either. They weren’t in uniform and he saw no guns. Yet he knew they were security guards. They displayed the ever-on-the-alert manner and posture that went with the breed. Saunderhorne hadn’t needed armed security guards on patrol like this since the early Thirties, when the Chaos started easing off. Why was it necessary now?

The trav-cart rolled out onto a gridded metal span, rising up over the pellucid waters girdling the main island. The bridge looked fragile, but Todd had read the design specs and knew the structure could last out a hurricane. Indeed, it already had survived several such and countless tropical storms. Dian leaned over and peered at the fish darting among the water plants below. “I can count the pebbles down there,” she marveled. “I didn’t think planet-side water could be this pure any more.”

“Most of it isn’t,” Todd said. “This wouldn’t be, either, but it’s a small area, and we’ve got a good filtration barrier on the outer reefs. Self-contained throughout, that’s the family’s humble home.”

“Your daddy built a hell of a place. And no patent fees to pay,” Dian baited him. Todd, too busy enjoying the familiar scenery, wouldn’t rise to the lure.

The house and hill bulked too large to see fully now. The trav-cart drove off the bridge onto the beltway path at the water’s edge and turned left. Roy followed the curving pavement north for fifty meters, then angled sharply, starting up the hill toward the mansion. Foliage grew close to the pavement. Bamboo canes waved in the easterlies. A riot of tropical flowers filled the air with fragrance. Palms cast welcome shade. Fronds and trailing vines had been trimmed back so that the lane was free. Yet the effect was one of riding through a jungle. The air became heavy with the smells of damp earth and bark. Todd showed Dian that the mossy, vine-laced rocky hillside directly ahead of them was only partly natural. A large door was cleverly designed to blend in with the existing landscape. As Dian admired it, Todd noted that sections of the main house which had formerly been open to view were now also hidden behind rocky camouflage. Again he wondered why. Had these changes been taking place for months and he had simply overlooked them, or were the alterations new, like the security guards?

The door opened at their approach and Roy Paige drove inside. Artificial lighting replaced the Sun’s radiance, and Todd’s lenses adjusted rapidly to accommodate the shift. Dian looked up at the massive door as they passed underneath. Todd explained, before she could ask, that the reinforced door was part of Saunderhome’s elaborate hurricane protection system. The place could be buttoned up tightly in a matter of minutes, shutters and doors locking into place against the terrible winds and rains. In fact, from the appearance of the main house, Todd judged Saunderhome could be sealed even more thoroughly than it ever had been, sufficient to bury the place until a hurricane passed . . . or till it rode out a hostile aerial assault?

The lowest level of the house was a combination receivables warehouse, storage facility, and parking garage for tray-carts. Paige didn’t go far into the cavernous stone-walled expanse. He parked in one of several slots beside a bank of elevators. The other tray-cart was nearby, already empty. By now the luggage had probably been delivered to the travelers’ suites.

They took the elevator up two levels and exited into an expensively decorated foyer. Two doors opened off that. Staffers, having finished putting the luggage in the rooms, were returning to the garage level. Roy made them wait until he could double-check the suites to be sure the job had been done right, then dismissed them. As they disappeared into one of the elevators, Roy also checked the service monitors in the hall. Apparently satisfied, he gave Mariette a parting embrace. “I’ll tell Jael you’re here. It’s good to have you back, little Mari. Good to meet you, Dr. Foix. And you, behave yourself,” he warned Todd, his grin spoiling the lecture. He backed into the waiting elevator and left them alone.

Mari tapped her toe. “As if Jael hasn’t had a running progress report on us all the way down from orbit.” She looked at her feet and scuffed the edge of her boot across the carpeting. “This is new, isn’t it? Lovely. Silicate. At least she doesn’t refuse to buy an occasional Goddard product.”

“Don’t start,” Todd pleaded.

“Not if I don’t have to. Not if she and Pat don’t make me. Oh, why couldn’t they have left things the way they were?” Mariette cried suddenly. She swung around and trotted across the foyer to her suite. The door wasn’t built for slamming, but somehow she cued it with enough firmness to communicate her irritation.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for more of her moods,” Todd said wearily.

“What set her off this time?”

“It’s safer not to ask. Maybe it was the long ride down from Goddard. Come on.” He touched Dian’s elbow lightly and escorted her into his own suite.

The luggage was sitting on courtesy racks, awaiting their convenience. Closets, elegant furnishings, well-stocked dispenser, spanking clean refresher units—everything polished, neat, and the very best. The drapes at the outside window-wall had been opened partway. Dian strolled over and looked out. “Fancy view, to put it mildly.”

Todd set the holo-mode case on the bed and thrust his hands deep in his pockets. “Yes. Beautiful. Everything at Saunderhome’s beautiful, more so than it used to be. That’s one good thing about this new wing—the view. I used to have to climb up top to the weather tower to get this kind of panorama. Dad and I spent a lot of hours up there, making com test runs and playing with his new scanners. He perfected at least twenty patents in that tower. The view from there looks different—in clear, as you might say.”

The window-wall was tinted according to the latest medical recommendations to protect eyesight and skin. The suite overlooked a steep slope blanketed with vegetation. Below, a cabana opened onto a private, fenced beach. Absently, Todd explained that there was a direct-access elevator off the refresher, should Dian want to swim. Beyond the sand and the inner waterways and reefs, the Caribbean stretched to a misty, cloudless horizon. Surf chopped at the rocks bordering the perimeter. Todd couldn’t quite make out the camouflaged bunkers on that defense line. Gulls wheeled above the little supply boats heading for the outer islands. In the far distance to the north, a blackness past the blue-green waters marked the beginnings of the Puerto Rican Trench.

“That’s almost the bottom of the Atlantic,” Todd said, indicating the area.

“I know. Deep waters. Very deep. As you said, it’s a big drop down from Goddard and Geosynch.” Dian cocked her head. “The haunts of the very rich. I used to dream about things like this. Saw it on vid dramas, but never believed anyone really lived this way. All this posh. All this money. And a view a vid producer would kill for to get in his next romantic production. All this . . . and you don’t like it.”

“Not the way it is now. I guess I don’t, no. Mari was griping for both of us. Jael’s changing things, maybe to keep up with the enlarging Saunder image and Pat’s advancing career. But this isn’t what Mari and I think of when we remember Saunderhome. That’s gone. The original house was where that garage is now. A roomy place, protected from hurricanes, safe and cozy. Jael always hated it, though. Said it made her feel like a mole. What she really meant was, it wasn’t grand and sprawling and impressive. She started adding on even before Dad died, so the V.I.P.’s would be impressed. But, dammit, we were a real family when Saunderhome was less pretentious. When we were less pretentious.”

Dian let him ramble, holding him, staring out at the magnificent land and seascape.

“I’ve been coming back here less and less often of late,” Todd said wistfully. “Especially since Jael built these new wings. This suite’s been here five years. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. But I’m not. I never felt comfortable. Maybe it lacked something. You, I realize now. This time maybe things will feel right, just as they do at my place in New Washington or North L.A. or Bonn or Bangkok. Well, we won’t have much to spend in any one place, for a while. Lots of things about to happen . . .”

The alien messenger. He held back, not saying that, not sure why. He had almost whispered his last sentence, hinting at the revelation, as if he were afraid of eavesdroppers.

Idiocy. It wasn’t going to be a secret any more, not after tonight. Ward’s birthday anniversary—the perfect time to tell them, especially if one believed in the survival of the soul, of Ward’s soul. If he were watching tonight, he would be proud of them.

And yet . . .

Todd wanted to hurry the clock forward. And he wanted to stop it, turn it backward through the years. The once-in-a-lifetime announcement
could
only happen once. Once in his lifetime, and once in humanity’s lifetime. Part of Todd wanted to be a kid again, able to ask Ward’s advice, taking that strong guidance, letting Ward drop bombshells on the world consciousness with his inventive breakthroughs in a dozen scientific fields. But Ward was dead. It was up to his son to carry on the tradition.

One hell of a bombshell, Dad. Like nothing we’ve encountered, ever.

The page monitor chimed pleasantly, followed by Jael’s filtered voice. “May I come in, Todd?”

“Of course, Mother!” Todd fought an aberrant impulse to move away from Dian. Foolish. He wasn’t a kid, smuggling a girl up to his room. What had made him react that way? Jael had never been one of those reactionary neo-moralists, even if her own life style had been rigidly monogamous.

Nonetheless, he put his hands elsewhere, and Dian stepped back on her own volition. Jael didn’t hurry into the room. There were times when it was necessary for her to rush, but even then she created the impression she was strolling elegantly. Old-money upbringing and upper-class manners. She had never let go of those. Surplus kilos hadn’t diminished the former society belle’s grace. Todd bent his head and met her kiss, her small, plump hands touching his face and shoulders.

“Let me see you,” she said, looking him over maternally.

“Mother, it’s only been a few weeks, for God’s sake. You act as if I’ve been in prison for twenty years.”

Jael ignored his embarrassed protests. “You’re too pale. Don’t you use med lamps in those space stations of yours? There’s such a thing as too little ultraviolet.”

“Satellites, not space stations.”

“He says he gets busy and forgets his turn at the health and fitness rooms.” Dian aided and abetted Jael’s nagging.

“It’s all her fault,” Todd accused Dian. “I can never tan up as well as she does, so why bother?”

A blush didn’t show well on Dian’s creamy brown skin, but Todd detected a bit of reddening and chuckled. He realized that Jael had been somewhat tense when she entered the suite. Now she was relaxing.

“And you, Mother, you look great.” Todd brushed aside her ritual complaints. Jael specialized in modest self-denigration. She was getting too fat. Her hair needed a specialist. Her hands were a mess. Her clothes were dowdy. The new doctor wasn’t prescribing enough nutrisupplements to keep her energy levels up. He had heard it all for years and sympathized for years and reassured her none of it made any difference. It didn’t. Her energy was awesome. Her clothes were the ultimate in fashion. Her hands were soft and beautiful. Her lustrous hair, stylishly middle-length, displayed that attractive white streak that was Jael’s trademark. She covered her excess weight with loose, long-sleeved tunics over pants or half saris. The outfits flattered her busty figure. She was really doing fine, and she knew it. She just wanted to hear her devoted family tell her so.

Mari had been right, though. Age lines were encroaching on that full face. The white streak was a trifle wider than it had been a year ago. Jael’s eyes seemed duller, fatigue of the hard-fought political campaign starting to show.

Unconsciously, Todd was comparing himself with Jael. Most of his features and his body structure came from Jael’s side of the family. Was he going to have increasing weight problems, as did Jael, when he grew older? He hoped his nondescript brown hair would gray as attractively as Jael’s had, but that was probably a vain wish. She was the only one of the Hartmans with that particular physical attribute. Pat and Mari stayed handsomely lean, and it was likely they would still be trim and good-looking into their eighties. It didn’t seem fair. They rarely bothered with real exercise and ate and drank as they pleased. Already Todd had to watch his caloric intake and increase his exercise regimen just to maintain his weight and figure. As time wore on, he sympathized more and more sincerely with Jael’s familiar complaints about her health.

“I’m so glad you’ve come to Saunderhome, Dian,” Jael said, offering her hand. She didn’t rush things. That wasn’t Jael’s style.

“The schedules just wouldn’t work out before now,” Dian replied tactfully. The missed connections had been deliberate on her part. Todd wasn’t entirely sure why. He had coaxed Dian to come with him when he flew to the island, ever since they realized, months ago, that what they felt for each other was a lot stronger than an employer and trained specialist relationship. Dian never gave him an answer that
was
an answer. He suspected the problem lay in the cultural gap. Dian was repressing her U.G.S accent now, very much in her expert translator’s telecom voice—the tone guaranteed to reveal no trace of her origins.

“Well, I’m happy the schedules meshed this time—very happy. It’s long overdue.” Jael shook her head and laughed. Todd saw himself in her once more. That head shake was the same thing he did when he was uncertain of his ground, socially. But why was Jael uncertain? She and Dian had met before, though not often. The major difference this time was
where
they were meeting, at Saunderhome, Jael’s home territory. It was almost as if she looked at Dian in an entirely new light, as a woman who might be a rival, an invader.

“Thank you, Mrs. Saun—”

“No titles! I hate them. I’ll put up with them in public, but not here among my family and friends.”

Dian resisted for a moment, then said softly, “Very well—Jael.”

“Good! After all, you’re a prospective member of the family yourself, aren’t you?” Jael smiled at them both fondly. Dian raised a slim black eyebrow, but said nothing. Jael wandered around the room, visually assessing the servants’ work. “And Mariette’s young man, did he come?” She tried to make the question sound offhanded. It didn’t work. Todd and Dian both understood that Jael was fully informed on everything that happened here. She already must know that Kevin McKelvey wasn’t among the current guests.

“Uh . . . I’m afraid not. He couldn’t get away.” Todd felt defensive of the man.

“Oh, yes. Of course. He’s been elected governor up there, hasn’t he?” Word traveled fast. How had she known? Todd reviewed his words and actions since he had left Goddard. He said nothing about Kevin’s elevation in rank, but Mariette had, to some techs at Geosynch. Todd didn’t like to think he had spies in his organization. That must be the case, though.

“What’s he like? I mean, is he a good person? I wouldn’t want Mariette to . . . she’s had some very unhappy experiences with men in the past, you know.”

“Very well,” Todd replied with a sigh. “He’s no airboat daredevil or vid-drama type. Not at all like the others.”

“Good. Time she settled down. I wish he were going to be here. I’d so wanted to meet him. You know, I never have. Haven’t even spoken to him on the com. The opportunity never arose. I’d like to meet him in person. You can tell so much more about someone face to face. Don’t you agree, Dian?” Jael asked softly.

Dian nodded mutely, flicking a glance toward Todd. She reminded him of a spooky wild creature, ready to run if danger came too near.

Jael looked out the window. “What’s most important is, you brought Mariette. I knew you would, dear. And sooner or later I’ll get to meet Kevin McKelvey, too. She’s here. Meeting her young man is next.” She walked over to Todd and touched his face lovingly. He caught her hand and kissed it. “You’ve made us a family again,” Jael whispered. “Thank you. So long. So very long since we’ve all been together here . . .”

“Things will be okay.”

Visibly, Jael brought herself forward in time. “I know. You’ll make it work. You always do. He has a gift for that, Dian. Have you noticed? He and Ward, peas in a pod. It isn’t that they’re bullies . . . that Ward was a bully or Todd is. It’s just that they persuade you, bring you around, make you see things their way. But I’m sure you know that.” Jael winked lewdly at Dian, startling the younger woman. Then Dian’s face lit in a grin. They reacted one woman to another, dissecting the prudish male under their microscopes.

Todd squirmed with chagrin until Jael’s smile warmed him like Caribbean sunshine. “You were always my sweet-tempered child, my little peacemaker.” He blushed at the compliment, one he had heard ever since he was a kid. Jael was amused. “You are! And I’m counting on you to keep the other kids from arguing this time, too. Lord! If you hadn’t . . . There were times when I came home and expected to see little corpses, Dian. But somehow Todd always broke up the fights. Pat was the oldest, but it was Todd who was my babysitter for the other two. Well, I’d better go see how one of the other kids is doing.” Jael hesitated, then asked, “Do you think Mariette will mind? I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s hardly intruding. You live here more than she does,” Todd said.

“She whines so about these suites. I can’t understand what she dislikes. We just had to enlarge. The old house wasn’t big enough any more. You know that, Todd.” Jael nibbled on a neatly trimmed fingernail.

“I’m sure she’s just blowing off steam. Ignore her. I do. She’ll have to gripe a while before she admits things aren’t so bad at the old place.”

“Oh, how true!” Her good mood restored, Jael started toward the door.

“Are Pat and Carissa here yet?” Todd called after her.

Jael paused by the monitor array beside the door, expertly scanning the service readouts and messages, “Carissa’s been here a couple of days. Patrick will fly in sometime this afternoon. He’s finishing up a campaign swing through Africa, but he promised he’d be here before supper.”

“Maybe we ought to drop over to Carissa’s suite and say hello,” Dian suggested, still using her very-correct media worker’s voice.

“Oh, she’s resting now so she’ll be fresh for this evening.” Todd was about to ask after his sister-in-law’s health, but Jael rushed on, talking rapidly as she simultaneously reprogrammed some of the service monitors. “If you need anything extra, Dian, don’t hesitate to call Supplies. Todd forgets about little feminine necessities, even if he is a considerate boy. We can’t expect them to know everything, can we?” She winked again, then hurried out.

When she had left, Dian looked at Todd thoughtfully, waiting for him to meet her gaze. “Carissa’s taking a nap? Every other time I’ve been in the same SE area she is, she calls you as soon as you land or pull in.”

Todd clawed at his scalp, scratching a non-existent itch. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on there, either. And I’m worried. We agree she looked like hell on those recent ‘casts, and, come to think of it, she hasn’t been showing up on any of the campaign footage recently.”

“Maybe she picked up a virus.”

Todd shivered. “My God! Don’t say that.”

Dian shrugged. “It happens, even today. Mutations are still out there looking for likely targets. Remember, I grew up with the pandemics.”

“We all did. I . . . I just can’t deal with them very welt. Maybe I never will.” He sat down on the bed, confronting the primitive fear in himself. “It’s a personal hangup. I know the meds found some of the answers, thanks in part to SE Pharmaceuticals and the Antarctic Enclave experimenters. But not all the answers, and not always a cure. I guess it doesn’t matter, if you’re rich enough or important enough. Got a deadly virus? Put the body on ice and the tissue samples in the vault until doctors crack the case.”

Dian’s eyes narrowed. “That again? What is this new phobia about the Antarctic Enclave? You and Mari kept whipping each other about the place all the way down from orbit, and none too subtly. Frankly, the static’s getting thick. Maybe I react because there’s damned little United Ghetto States representation in that Enclave, Oh, I know a few people who are on the watchdog Human Rights Committee, sure, but . . .”

“Sorry. Forget it. It’s a disagreement Mari and I are having.”

“Huh!” Dian’s sarcastic snort would have wilted the drapes if they had been organic fabric.

Todd didn’t respond. Mariette’s suspicions, and the promises she had extracted from him—they weren’t going to go away. She would call in the debt, eventually. Other things wouldn’t go away, either—the suite; the magnificent view; the ominous new construction, sufficient to repel an invasion; Jael’s hand-patting tactics; questions about Carissa’s health—and, most of all, the little case lying on the bed beside him. He was on the edge of a precipice, and very soon he would have to jump, or be pushed.

Dian tried to lighten his mood. “That was a cute little phrase: ‘Mariette’s young man.’ Almost as cute as ‘prospective member of the family.’ Is she hinting we ought to take out official papers and start breeding little Foix-Saunders?”

“She certainly is. Jael’s a demon for generational continuity. Old traditions. She’s funny that way, considering how she kicked her family in the shins. They wouldn’t have minded if she had just had an affair with Ward. But, my God,
marrying
him? Official papers and quaint old legal customs and all. If that wasn’t bad enough, she deliberately had three kids. Believe me, it isn’t because she was crazy about motherhood,” Todd said with some bitterness. “We were another way of flaunting her family and spitting in their eyes, a positive embarrassment . . .”

“Hey! Don’t cut her down. She’s my kind.” Dian added coyly, “Why do you think I transferred from university global coordination linguistics to ComLink? It wasn’t just because I was frantic to experience sex in free fall . . .”

Todd grinned lasciviously. “But that figured in.”

“Heavily!” Dian sobered. “She’s family-strong, your mother. I hear it when she mouths those old-fashioned terms. Wyoma Lee was like that, too. Only her kids all died, and I was the only grandkid who didn’t.”

“We’ve been lucky,” Todd said, feeling guilty again. “Jael runs scared. She watched that happening all around her. Put that together with the old-line philosophy she was raised with, and you get a woman who wants the kids to have grandkids and so on and so on. Continuity. For her, it’s all tangled with Ward and how she felt about him and his being killed before all their dreams came true.”

Dian locked her hands behind his neck, resting her forehead against his. “As I said, wonder woman.”

“Not quite.”

“Huh! See her set that servo board? Took it in at a blink. She’s a top tech.”

“Yeah, she helped Ward remember to eat when he was concocting his inventions, and she nursed them through patents and financial deals while he kept coming up with new ones. Saunder Enterprises is a joint effort, but she did the dirty work, then and now. Sure she’s expert. She knows how to use all those crazy devices Dad kept coming up with and taught us kids how to use them, too, But she’s still ‘Mom’! God help us if we ever call her that, though.” He had accepted Jael’s dual nature all his life, yet it was refreshing to see his mother through someone else’s eyes, friendly eyes. Plenty of business competitors had expressed their opinions of Jael, “that soft-voiced, throat-cutting Saunder bitch.” But Dian’s attitude was part heroine worship and part wariness of Jael’s wealth and power and social status.