Part 37 (1/2)

The ride was uneventful. I saw no Patth, no Iykams, and no sign that I was being either watched or followed. And after what seemed like far too short a trip the doors opened onto the Bangrot s.p.a.ceport platform.

It was going to be another long hike back to the Icarus, unless opportunity and diminished crowd density enabled me to take one of the little runaround cars instead. But whichever, ride or walk, it was going to be postponed a little while longer. Instead of turning right and making for the Icarus, I turned left and headed to the StarrComm building.

The receptionist at Uncle Arthur's left me on hold for several minutes, which was a bad sign all by itself. It meant they were having to wake him up, and Uncle Arthur roused from his beauty sleep was never even remotely at his best.

Add to that the news I was about to give him, and this was likely to be one of our less pleasant conversations.

My first look at him, when the display finally cleared, was the first indication that my a.s.sessment of the situation had been ominously off target. Uncle Arthur was not garbed in sleep s.h.i.+rt and hastily thrown-on robe, his hair tousled into a multidirectional halo. He was instead immaculately groomed, every hair in place, and dressed in the sort of upscale finery I hadn't seen him wear in years.

Which meant that instead of hauling him out of bed, I'd instead interrupted a meeting with those higher up in the food chain than he was, out in those murky waters he'd spent so much of his life swimming in. I tried to decide whether that was better or worse than waking him up, but my throbbing head wasn't up to the task.

And then I took my first look at his face, and felt an icy cold begin to seep into my heart. It was a graveyard face, the look of a man who's been backed into a corner by his enemies with nowhere else to go and no more tricks left to use.

The look of a chess master down to his king and one p.a.w.n, with the painful knowledge that that p.a.w.n is about to be sacrificed.

”Jordan,” he said, his voice studiously neutral. ”We were just talking about you. What's the situation?”

”Mine's not so hot,” I said. ”How's yours?”

”Not very good, I'm afraid,” he conceded. ”Where are you now?”

”In the middle of the Grand Feast celebration on Palmary,” I told him. ”And hoping to get the h.e.l.l out as fast as we can.”

”I take it you had some trouble?”

”You might say that,” I agreed tartly. ”The Patth caught up with me and let their Iykami underlings play a brief drum solo on my head. My crew was able tospring me, but two of them took plasmic burns on the way out. I know you don't like getting overtly involved with my life, but we need some backup. And we need it now.”

His expression, if anything, went a little more neutral. ”Do you have a destination in mind after you leave there?”

”One of the crew has a friend on Beyscrim with an isolated lodge he's not using,” I said, feeling the cold dread settling a little more deeply into me.

He hadn't responded to my call for reinforcements; and now the mention of Beyscrim should have had him busily punching his off-screen computer keys for data. But he wasn't. ”It's supposed to be a five-day flight from here, which I figure should put it within reach of at least some of your people.”

”Yes, it would,” he agreed heavily. ”Jordan... I'm afraid there won't be any backup.”

I stared at him. ”May I ask why not?”

”To be blunt, because Earth has caved,” he said, his voice suddenly bitter.

”Not fifteen minutes ago Geneva issued a formal notice that no public, governmental, or private organizations or persons with citizens.h.i.+p ties to Earth or Earth-allied worlds are to offer information, personnel, materiel, or any other a.s.sistance to the outlaw stars.h.i.+p flying under the name Icarus.”

His lip twitched. ”You were also specifically mentioned in the order, Jordan.

Along with Ixil and two or three others of your crew for whom they have names.”

”This is nonsense,” I said, my voice sounding unreal through the noise of my suddenly pounding heart. Uncle Arthur had been my absolute last chance. ”They can't do that. The stakes here-”

”The stakes are precisely what they're thinking about,” he said with a grimace.

”I didn't tell you the other part. Approximately ten minutes before Geneva issued their order the Patth issued one of their own. The entire Kalixiri populace has been declared anathema.”

I stared at him, Nask's parting-shot curse against Ixil and his people echoing through my mind. ”That was fast,” I said. ”It wasn't even an hour ago that the Patth amba.s.sador made that threat.”

”Yes,” Uncle Arthur said. ”Whatever you did to irritate them, it would seem the Patth have suddenly decided to stop playing games.”

I exhaled loudly. ”I liked it better when they were skulking around not telling anyone who or what they really wanted. Has Geneva forgotten that Arno Cameron's involved here?”

He shrugged. ”I presume not. If Cameron himself were there I'm sure he'd be pulling strings and cas.h.i.+ng out favors all over the city. But as far as I know he's still missing, and those kinds of strings don't pull themselves.” His eyes narrowed slightly. ”Unless you know where he is.”

”If I did, I certainly wouldn't tell you,” I countered sourly. ”At least not in the hearing of whoever the high-nosed flacks are back there who are listening in.”

He glanced down at his clothing. ”I suppose this outfit is something of agiveaway; isn't it?” he conceded. ”Yes, Geneva was thoughtful enough to send a pair of representatives to deliver to me a personal copy of their edict.

However, they are not, in fact, listening in on us.”

”I suppose I should be thankful for small favors,” I grumbled. ”So much for our private little arrangement.”

”So much for it, indeed,” he agreed. ”I'm somewhat surprised the authorities hadn't forgotten about me after all this time.”

”A pity they hadn't,” I said, probing carefully at the lump on the back of my head. It felt about the size of a prize-winning grapefruit. ”All right, so you've been ordered not to deal with me, along with everyone else in the Spiral with ten toes and red blood. What exactly does that mean?”

He sighed. ”I'm afraid it means exactly what it says. I can't have anything whatsoever to do with you.”

I snorted. ”Oh, come on. Since when have you worried about what anyone says you can or can't do? Especially anyone in Geneva?”

He shook his head. ”You still don't understand, Jordan. This isn't some strategic or political decision on the part of reasoned statesmen. This is the panic reaction of people who are terrified of what the Patth might do to us if any human in the Spiral-any human-is seen to be a.s.sisting you.”

”That's ridiculous,” I insisted. ”The Patth are bluffing-they have to be.

Human-owned and -a.s.sociated s.h.i.+pping must make up four to six percent of Patth cargoes. They can't afford to lose all that with the stroke of a pen.”

”They did it with the Kalixiri,” he reminded me. ”And yes, I know the Kalixiri total is minuscule compared to ours. But no one in Geneva is ready to call that bluff.” He hesitated. ”And to be quite honest, I'm not convinced it is a bluff.

Not when you consider that the Patth economic future could hinge on what the Icarus contains.”

For perhaps half a minute neither of us spoke. Uncle Arthur broke the silence first. ”What about Ryland or Antoniewicz?” he asked. ”I doubt Geneva has been able to deliver to them a personal copy of the edict.”

”They didn't have to,” I said, frowning as a sudden thought struck me. ”The Patth amba.s.sador told me Brother John had already disavowed any connection between us.”

”Too bad,” he murmured. ”No matter what you think of Antoniewicz, his group might have had the resources to help you out.”