Part 20 (1/2)

Alpha nodded silently, the movement barely visible to Nancia's visual sensors.

She could think of no more encouraging words for Forister.

Micaya persuaded Forister to let her confront Blaize initially. ”I'll wear a contact b.u.t.ton,” she promised him. ”You and Nancia can see and hear everything that goes on.”

”It's my duty-” Forister began.

”Mine too,” Micaya interrupted him. ”The young man is more likely to confess if he doesn't think he can bring family influence to bear.”

”He can't,” Forister said grimly. ”I'm not here to in- tercede for him.”

”Yes, but he doesn't know that,” Micaya pointed out- Nancia kept all her external sensors trained on 222.

Anne McCajfrey & Micaya'as the general picked her way along a path of rounded volcanic stones to the door of the permalloy hut. On both sides of the path, feathery gra.s.ses and blazing tropical flowers grew in exuberant, uncon- trolled patterning, throwing up their seed-heads and blooms above Micaya's crisp silver-sprinkled hair.

Nancia recognized Old Earth species mixed with Denebian starflowers and the singing gra.s.ses of Fomalhaut II, a joyous blaze of pink and orange and purple flowers.

Micaya entered the hut and Nancia's field of vision contracted to the half-circle covered by the contact b.u.t.ton. In the shadowy hut, stacked high with papers and bits of machinery, Blaize's red head glowed like a burning ember before the computer screen that held his attention.

”Blaize Armontillado-Perez y Medoc,” Micaya said formally.

”Urn. PTA s.h.i.+pment? I'll sign for it in a minute. Just got to finish this one thing....”

The contact b.u.t.ton's resolution wasn't enough for Nancia to read the words on the computer screen, but she recognized the seven-tone response code that chimed out when Blaize slapped his open hand on the palmpad. An interplanetary transmission - no, inter- subs.p.a.ce; he had just sent something to ... Nancia rummaged through her files and identified the code. To Central Diplomatic headquarters? What could they have to do with Angalia, a planet where no intelligent sentients existed? Had Blaize's net of corruption drawn in some of her father's and Forister's own colleagues?

”There!” As the last notes of the code chimed out, Blaize swung round, a seraphic smile on his freckled face. ”And what - ”

His expression changed rapidly and almost comical- ly at the sight of Micaya Questar-Benn in full uniform.

”You,” he said slowly, ”are not PTA.”223.

”Quite correct,” said Micaya. ”Your activities have attracted some attention in other quarters.”

Blaize's jaw thrust out and his freckles seemed to take on a glowing life of their own. ”Well, it's too late.

You can't stop me now!”

”Can't I?” Micaya's tone was deceptively mild.

”I've sent a full report to CenDip. I don't care who your friends in PTA may be, they'll have to leave An- galia alone now.”

”My dear boy,” said Micaya, ”haven't you got it back- wards? You're the one employed by Planetary Technical Aid. Or rather, you were.”

Nancia had been so caught up in the dialogue, she never noticed when Forister slipped out of her central cabin and made his way down the stairs. She was as starded as Blaize when Forister appeared in the door- way of the hut, just on the periphery of her view from the contact b.u.t.ton.

”Uncle Forister!” Blaize exclaimed. ”What's going on here? Can you help-”

”Don't call me uncle,” Forister said between his teeth. ”I'm here with General Questar-Benn to stop you, boy, not to help you!”

Blaize went green between the spattering of freck- les. He closed his eyes for a moment and looked as if he wanted to be sick. ”Not you too?”

”You didn't think family feeling would extend so far as helping you exploit and torture these innocents?”

”Torture? Exploit?” Blaize gasped. ”I - oh, no.

Uncle Forister, have you by any chance been talking to a girl named Fa.s.sa del Parma y Polo? Or Alpha bint Hezra-Fong? Or Darnell - ”

”All three of them,” Forister confirmed, ”and - what the devil is so funny about that?”

For Blaize had all but doubled up, snorting with repressed laughter. ”My sins come back to haunt me,”

he gasped between snorts.

224.

&f 225.

”I don't see what's so funny about it.” Pollster's own face had gone white and there was a pinched look about the corners of his mouth.

”You wouldn't. Not yet. But when I - Oh, Lord!

This is one complication I never - ” Blaize sputtered into hysterical laughter that ended only when Forister slammed a fist into his belly. Blaize was still crowing and wheezing for breath when a second blow to the jaw knocked his head back and flung him in an undig- nified collapse against the rickety table where his computing equipment had been stacked. Blaize's legs folded under him and he slid gendy to the floor. Be- hind him, the table rocked and wobbled dangerously.

The palmpad skated to one corner of the table top and hung on a splinter. A shower of flimsy blue hardcopies fluttered down over Blaize in a gentle, rustling rain of reports and accounting figures and FTA instructions.

Forister s.n.a.t.c.hed one sheet as it drifted down and studied the column of figures for a moment, brows raised. When his eyes reached the bottom of the page, he looked tired and gray and showed every year ofhis age.

”Proof positive,” he commented as he pa.s.sed the paper to Micaya, ”if any was needed.”

Micaya held the paper where Nancia could focus on it through the contact b.u.t.ton. The figures wobbled and danced in Micaya's hand; grimly Nancia compen- sated for movement and enlarged the blurred letters and numbers until she too could read the flimsy.

It was a statement of Blaize's Net account balance for the previous month. The pattern of deposits and withdrawals of large sums made no immediate sense to Nancia, but one thing was clear: any single figure was considerably larger than Blaize's PTA salary, and the total at the bottom was d.a.m.ning - more than thirty times as much credit as he could have acc.u.mulated if he'd saved every penny ofhis legitimate pay.

”Uncle Forister,” said Blaize from the floor, tenderly ma.s.saging his aching jaw, ”you have got it all wrong.

Trust me.”

”After the evidence before my eyes,” Forister spat out, ”what could you possibly say that would incline me to trust you?”

Blaize grinned up at him. His lip was bleeding and one ftont tooth wobbled alarmingly. ”You'd be surprised.”

”If you were thinking of a small bribe out of your ill- gotten gains,” Micaya told him, ”you can think again.”

She lowered her head to speak directly into the contact b.u.t.ton and Nancia hastily reduced the amplification, Softsh.e.l.ls never could quite understand that they didn't need to shout at a conduct b.u.t.ton; the speaker might be tinny, but the input lines were as powerful as any of a brains.h.i.+p's on-board sensors. ”Nancia, please enter the Net with my personal ID code. That's Q- B76, JPJ, 450, MIC. Under that code you will be authorized to freeze all credit accounts under the per- sonal code o let me see....” She squinted at the top of the flimsy, peering to make out a code sequence that Nancia could read perfectly well with the vision cor- rectors damping down movement and enhancing blurred letters. ”Oh, never mind, I guess you can read it,” Micaya recalled a moment later.

”Correct,” Nancia sent a vocal signal over the con- tact link.

”Don't do that!” Blaize scrambled to his feet, sway- ing slightly. ”You don't understand-”