Wolf Among the Stars-ARC (8 page)

And when I mentioned your father’s name in the same sentence with them
. . . “You’re right,” Andrew said quickly. “I was just speculating at random.” He steered the conversation into safer channels. The subject never came up again.

Andrew discovered that his travels hadn’t really prepared him for Tizath-Asor, when they emerged from overspace at one of its transition gates. He had been to Harath-Asor, home of Earth’s closest Lokaron associates and origin of Tizath-Asor’s original settlers. There, he had been struck—as had so many others, including his parents, the first humans to see it—by the strange contrast between the overwhelming presence of transcendent technology and the ancientness of the world itself, with its worn-down landscapes, its enigmatic cyclopean ruins of an extinct pre-Lokaron race, its long days . . . and, in its deep-blue sky, the great orange sun whose tidal pull had produced those long days by slowing its rotation over the eons.

There was none of that here. Tizath-Asor was younger than Earth, and its sun was a G2V like Sol. It still held oceans that covered three-quarters of its surface, even though its surface gravity was only slightly higher than the 0.72 Terran g its Harathon colonists had evolved under. Those colonists had required so little genetic engineering that the two subspecies could still interbreed normally, as was not the case with either of them and the Lokarathon of the species’ homeworld, who represented the original Lokaron genotype—or with the Rogovon, or any of the other gengineered Lokaron subspecies.

They proceeded inward from the transition gate through the crowded spacelanes, passing awesome space habitats, titanic powersats, streaming convoys of ore carriers, and all the rest of what had to be expected in the capital system of a major Lokaron
gevah.
But as a secondary colony of Gev-Harath, this was a relatively young
gevah
, and as they approached the planet (reassuringly Earthlike despite its smaller size), its night side wasn’t the almost unbroken dazzlement of city lights Andrew had seen on Harath-Asor. There was, however, the same thread—impossibly thin for its straightness—extending three diameters out from a point on the planet’s equator. Most of the metropolitan Lokaron worlds still had orbital towers utilizing materials technology even now beyond Earth’s horizon, for reactionless drives were a more recent development than the capability of overspace transition. But nowadays such towers were merely tourist attractions.
Star Wanderer
proceeded to a low-orbit space station where Spinward Line had leased facilities, and shuttles waited to waft them down to the surface in today’s cheap, quiet way.

They disembarked, emerging from a tube connecting
Star Wanderer
with the station. There was no fluctuation in weight, for gravity, like the diurnal cycle, had gradually been adjusted to the destination planet’s values in the course of the voyage. As they entered the cavernous lobby, a human stepped forth to greet them. He was youngish, short and slender, with straight black hair and regular dark features that reflected an indefinable blend of ethnic origins. Andrew thought he might as well as have had “gofer” tattooed on his forehead.

“Captain Roark? Ms. Arnstein? I’m Amletto Leong, with the CNE embassy to Gev-Tizath. But,” he quickly added, “I’m not here in any official capacity. As part of our latest courier run from Earth—which beat you here by a few days—we got a request from Assemblyman Valdes to extend you any assistance we could. Naturally, we try to accommodate such requests from members of the Legislative Assembly whenever possible. So the ambassador asked me to do whatever I legitimately can for you.”

Translation: the bureaucrats are already sucking up to the man they sense will be the next president-general.
“Thank you,” Andrew said aloud. “I suppose our first need is planetside accommodations and transportation.”

“
Separate
accommodations,” Rachel put in primly.

“Already taken care of.” Leong smiled. “I think you’ll find the accommodations comfortable. Certain Tizathon hotels have gotten quite good about catering to human requirements. They can even give you Earth-normal gravity if you choose. Personally, I enjoy the local version. And an air-car will be available whenever you need it.”

“I’m overwhelmed,” Rachel remarked. “I just hope I’m not equally overwhelmed by the bills.”

“Not to worry,” said Leong with an airy gesture. “That’s been taken care of. Assemblyman Valdes assured us he’d reimburse us for all expenses.”

“Thank you,” said Andrew, somewhat inadequately.
This is above and beyond
, he thought, and Rachel’s expression made it clear she was thinking the same thing.
Of course, the other side of the coin is that everything we do is going to be reported back to Valdes. But there’s nothing I can do about that, and given the time lag I don’t need to worry about it for now.
“Our next request is going to be for an introduction to see a certain Persath’Loven.”

Leong’s out-of-character sharp look was smoothed over almost too quickly to be noticed. He pursed his lips. “That could be a little more difficult. How much do you know about him?”

“Only that he spent some time on Earth back in the late Forties and early Fifties, studying Earth’s cultures and history, and that he published some books on the subject.”

“Yes.” Leong nodded. “He’s a type that has pretty much vanished on Earth: the super-wealthy dilettante. In fact, he almost fits into an even older type from Earth’s past: a ‘remittance man,’ but on a fairly grandiose scale, because he’s a collateral relation of one of the established
hovathon
of Gev-Tizath. Incidentally, he’s a primary male rather than a transmitter, which isn’t as much of a social disability as it would have once been—Gev-Tizath is pretty progressive that way. But you get the general idea. He had an obscene amount of unearned wealth with which to purse his interests.”

“Still,” Andrew persisted, “I understand some of his works on human studies were well-regarded.”

“True. The earlier ones. He’s actually rather brilliant, in an undisciplined, unfocused sort of way. But afterward . . . well, he seems to have fallen under the influence of certain mystical human cranks—the Imperial Temple of the Star Lords, they call themselves—and his later writings verged on sheer hysteria.”

“And now he’s back here on Tizath-Asor?”

“Yes. After his return from Earth he began to pour his money into an obsessive study of some very odd—some would almost say occult—aspects of physics. The whole business is actually very mysterious . . . which has added to its popular appeal and, I gather, even increased sales of his earlier books, making him even richer.” Leong chuckled. “But the point is, he’s very eccentric and has the resources to protect his privacy. He hardly ever sees anyone—even fellow Lokaron, let alone humans.”

“Tell him,” said Rachel, “that I’m the daughter of Admiral Nathan Arnstein, who has died under suspicious circumstances.”

“You might also mention that I was Admiral Arnstein’s chief of staff, and I, too, have reason to believe that the circumstances surrounding his death were questionable.” Andrew paused, trying to decide how much he should reveal. He wanted to mention the Black Wolf Society, but he still wasn’t ready to trust Valdes, with whom Leong was obviously associated, if only indirectly.

“Hmm.” Leong stroked his chin. “This might make him more amenable to your request. I’ll see what I can do. But for now, let’s get you through the local customs—that’s all handled here in the station—and then to your shuttle. I’ll show you to your hotel.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Their hotel was an octagonal tower
that had seemed rapier-slim from above but whose true dimensions were now obvious as they stared up and up its vertiginous side until it vanished in the midsummer haze.

The interior, organized around a vast central well whose ceiling could not be seen, combined immense mass with the soaring, infinity-aspiring etherealness made possible by nanotech-manufactured (grown?) materials—a defining quality of Lokaron architecture, and one that could be only dimly glimpsed in their structures on Earth. Here it was on full display, and Rachel gasped when they first walked in.

They remained there for two of the 27.8-hour local days while Leong brought them periodic cautiously optimistic progress reports on his attempts to make arrangements with Persath’Loven. In the meantime he arranged guided jaunts for them over the environs. Those environs consisted, for miles around in every direction, of mind-numbing cityscape, if possible even more stunning at night, when it was ablaze with light. Night and day, the sky was crisscrossed with a traffic pattern of air-cars, moving with a computer-enforced orderliness that explained the willingness of the local authorities (unlike those of Earth) to allow them over urban areas. But after their first few jaunts, Andrew and Rachel began to wonder if there were any
other
sorts of areas on Tizath-Asor.

They learned better when Leong finally arrived on the third morning with good news.

He met them in an alcove off their hotel’s central nave (the word came more naturally to mind than “lobby” in these cathedral-like vastnesses). “Persath’Loven has finally stopped dithering,” he announced with obvious self-satisfaction. “He’s agreed to see you—I almost said ‘grant you an audience,’ after listening to the way he put it! You can go out to his estate this afternoon.”

“
We
can go there?” Rachel queried. “Does that mean you’re not going with us?” Andrew silently hoped that was exactly what it meant.

“That’s right.” Leong took on a miffed look. “He doesn’t altogether approve of the CNE government. Just an extreme form of the traditional Lokaron attitude, I suppose; they don‘t even trust their
own
governments, if you can call the
gevahon
‘governments.’ But don’t worry about finding your way. You’ll be using public transportation—a lot faster than air-cars, by the way. You see, Persath also doesn’t approve of air-cars over his property.”

“What does he approve of?” Rachel asked dryly.

“Not very much.”

The public transportation in question proved to involve a continent-wide network of subterranean tunnels that had been evacuated in the true sense of the word. In the absence of air resistance, small passenger capsules could quickly accelerate to great speeds and decelerate just as quickly, with carefully balanced artificial-gravity fields protecting the passengers from any sensations stronger than those experienced in old-fashioned elevators on Earth. Nevertheless, Andrew and Rachel stayed in the cushy (though, of course, overlarge) seats of the private capsule Leong had arranged for them and watched the wraparound-screen simulacrum that created the illusion they were flying above the surface rather than under it. Only a machismo that he would have been the first to identify as archaic made Andrew maintain jaw-clenched silence and not echo Rachel’s gasps and occasional squeaks as they appeared to flash at insanely recklesss speeds through the dense cityscape.

“The Lokaron are probably used to it,” he thought fit to reassure her.

“They probably enjoy it,” she corrected. “I even think I’m starting to.”

It became easier to enjoy once they left the towers of the city behind. The agribusiness that must be required to feed Tizath-Asor was clearly elsewhere, for they traversed an increasingly hilly parklike landscape where suburbs nestled, partially concealed by the summer foliage of unfamiliar trees. The vegetation, Andrew thought, must reflect a blend of the local ecology and imports brought by the colonists from Harath-Asor. He also reminded himself that on a Lokaron world as highly developed as this one, open space was the prerogative of the very rich, so “suburbs” did not carry the middle-class connotation that it did on Earth.

Soon even these fell behind, and they proceeded up a valley at whose far end the sea could be glimpsed—a bay beyond which, farther inland (very much further than it seemed, Andrew was sure), another city raised its towers through the haze halfway to the zenith. But immediately before them, perched on a cliffside above the bay in what humans would have considered a dramatic setting, was what Andrew recognized as a very extensive private Lokaron dwelling—a compound, really, given the number of utilitarian outbuildings that sat in jarring contrast to the grand villa.

Hmm
, he thought.
Persath must be
really
eccentric.

The Lokaron had evolved on Lokarath-Asor, a small, dry world with seas (glorified salt-water lakes, really) rather than oceans. They had felt right at home on Harath-Asor. Even the Tizathon, gengineered for an ocean planet like this one, didn’t live on the seaside by choice. They saw nothing picturesque or romantic about it, only the chance of storm damage. They found it impossible to understand why oceanfront property commanded higher-than-normal prices on Earth.

So Persath’s choice of what would have been prime human real estate could only have been motivated by a desire to assure his privacy in what his fellow Tizathon would consider a remote, unattractive locale.
Besides which,
thought Andrew, recalling that Persath was no fool,
he probably got it on the cheap.

As they neared the villa the screen shut off, abandoning the pretense that the capsule was aloft. They came to a seemingly gentle halt, and the capsule opened to reveal an underground reception room. Andrew recalled Leong’s explanation that someone as rich as Persath rated an individual transit system “address,” but one strictly controlled by privacy protocols. Had Persath not consented to release that address, the capsule would never have stopped here.

They stepped out into the reception room, an oblong white-tiled expanse lit by afternoon sun slanting through light-wells behind trickling fountains at each end. It was not at all what Andrew would have expected. He reminded himself that this was no more typical of Tizath-Asor’s housing than some Gilded Age plutocrat’s Newport “cottage” would have typified that of late nineteenth-century America. It also occurred to him that the dry-planet-evolved Lokaron would naturally see fountains as a prime form of conspicuous consumption, even though here on Tizath-Asor they really weren’t all that extravagant.