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CHAPTER TWELVE

Fifteen minutes later a panel opened in the bottom of the power-plant bulb, just wide enough for the tip of one of Daslakh’s limbs. It looked around carefully, listened, and withdrew. A few seconds later the panel swung open and dumped Zee, Daslakh, and about a hundred kilograms of dead fish, kelp, and assorted debris onto the seafloor. Fast-spinning turbines and foreign objects have never had a happy relationship, so naturally the sea farm’s plant had active screens which dumped anything larger than a shrimp into a holding bin. Zee had some new bruises, and a couple of the long fronds of his gill pack were torn off, but otherwise he and Daslakh were in fine shape.

They waited another ten minutes before venturing forth, and took a wide detour off to the northeast before curving south again toward Svarnam. They were not intercepted along the way, but as they got to about a kilometer from the Abyss, Daslakh prodded Zee with one limb. “Stop stop stop!” it said.

Zee obediently throttled down the impeller and dropped to the sea bottom. “What?” he whispered.

“I can hear a lot of activity up ahead. Lots of impellers, a couple of small subs.”

“Maybe they’re having some special event at the Abyss.”

“It sounds like the same kind of impellers those two goons were using.”

“Why are the Security Service trying to stop us from going to the club?”

“Unknown. I can think of several possibilities: Qi Tian’s found out and is pulling some strings, Dai Chichi forgot to bribe someone and we’re just caught in the middle, or somebody with influence thinks they got cheated at the fish races. Or . . . maybe it’s not the Security Service. Anyone can put on a uniform, after all. Are there any other crooks who’d like to take over Dai Chichi’s niche in the local criminal ecology?”

“I just got here, remember. Maybe Adya would know.”

“Try to circle around to the south. We might be able to get closer on that side.”

For the next half hour they moved along an arc centered on the Abyss, never getting closer than a kilometer. When they were nearly due south of the club, Zee found a good hiding place—a jumble of big, fused silicon blocks taller than a man. Wherever the blocks were broken, strands of carbon fiber stirred gently in the current.

“Looks like they’ve got the place blockaded,” said Daslakh. “I don’t hear any fighting, though.”

Just then a pair of massive tentacles came out of the darkness to wrap around them, and a comm message with no origin tags reached Daslakh and Zee. “Tell me why I shouldn’t crush you both.”

Dai Chichi’s immense bulk oozed with terrifying speed through a gap between blocks no bigger than Zee’s waist. The giant cephalopod’s skin glowed faintly red, with dark stripes.

“We want to talk to you,” said Daslakh. “We found out who Qi Tian’s working for. What’s going on?”

“That’s what I want to know. Security Service shut my place down. Public safety risk from the fighting shows. I don’t know what Vidhi’s trying to do here, but you tell him I’m not going down without a fight.”

“Wait. Vidhi? You mean Adya’s brother-in-law? Kavita’s husband?”

“That’s him. Runs the Philosophical Society. We had a deal, and now he’s trying to double-cross me. I figure he sent you two to watch, so I’m trying to decide which one to send back in chunks.”

“I don’t know anything about Vidhi,” said Zee. “I’ve only met him once. We were looking for you because Daslakh found out who Qi Tian is. That’s all.”

Dai Chichi pulled Zee close to one black slit pupil, in an eye as big as Zee’s fist. “You aren’t working for him?”

“I’m not working for anybody. Daslakh, tell him.”

“It’s true. He got into this mess entirely on his own. It’s his special talent.”

“All right, talk. You say you came here to tell me about Qi Tian. So tell me.”

“Qi Tian—it’s not his real name, obviously; I’m not sure he has one—is an agent of Deimos,” said Daslakh.

“Deimos. You sure?”

“I am effectively certain. He’s been investing in Sixty Families business deals and spreading gifts around, but that’s all secondary to his political and diplomatic ends. He seems to want to shift power on the Coordinating Committee away from the current coalition.”

Dai Chichi’s beak clacked a couple of times. “Know anything about why Vidhi’s trying to break our deal?”

“I honestly don’t. What was the deal that he’s breaking?” asked Zee.

“That stupid payload. Putiyat owed me a lot of gigs—he always raises when he should fold—so Vidhi made me an offer. Get Putiyat to give me the rights to the payload, to clear his debt. Then I pass it on to the Philosophical Society. Vidhi’s outfit. In exchange he promised to have his wife talk up the Abyss, make it the hot place to go. Plus he said they’ve got pull with the Service, so he could promise me protection. It worked out pretty well at first. He got some worthless crap from the Oort, I got a packed club for six months, and Putiyat’s already in debt again. But now this!” His grip around Zee and Daslakh tightened to nearly rib-cracking force.

“When did the Security people show up?” asked Daslakh.

“Two hours ago. I’ve got escape tunnels nobody knows about, too small for any vertebrates to fit through. They think I’m still in my office.”

“I think I know what’s going on,” said Daslakh. “They closed your club and are blockading the place to stop Zee. They don’t want us having this conversation.”

“What?” Zee managed to gasp.

“It all fits. We talked to Adya, and told her we know who Qi Tian is. The house overheard us, of course. Kavita shows up and tries to get you to give up on finding out about the payload. She even admitted she’s got the house system compromised. You took off for the Abyss, and all of a sudden the Security Service—also known as Kavita’s fan club—is trying to stop us, and blocks off the place. Vidhi obviously doesn’t want us to know about the payload, or you to know about Qi Tian.”

“That’s hard to believe,” said Zee, as Dai Chichi’s grip relaxed enough that his ribs no longer felt about to crack. “About Vidhi, I mean. I thought he was just kind of boring.”

“So you screwed up,” Dai Chichi transmitted, and tightened his grip a little for emphasis.

“I guess we did,” said Zee, even as Daslakh screamed “Stop being honest!” in his head via comm.

“Then you get to make it right. Get someplace far away—Ksetram, maybe, or the surface. Show yourself. Make sure the Security people know where you are. If they’re really trying to keep you away from here, let them think it worked. I’m going to call in some favors from some other Sixty Families people I’ve got a grip on. Get moving!”

The big cephalopod launched them hard toward the surface, then oozed away into whatever tunnel or refuge he’d been hiding in.

“We need to meet Qi Tian in person. Bring Adya along,” said Daslakh. “I think I can get him to stop doing . . . whatever this is all about.”

“First we do what Dai Chichi asked. It’s only fair,” said Zee. “We have to attract attention away from here.”

“Okay, but don’t waste a lot of time.”

“Can you stand to wait two hours?”

“Keep in mind that for me, two hours is roughly the equivalent of two centuries for a human.”


Ninety minutes later (or a century and a half, in Daslakh time) Zee emerged from the bubble in Viranmar Plaza. By now it was early evening, and crowds were already starting to gather. A giant with four branching arms played keyboard, guitar, drums, and bass while singing in a beautiful soprano voice. An orca wearing walker legs used the hands at the tips of her pectoral flippers to slice raw fish in millimeter-thin slices, creating cevishimi cocktails served in conch shells. Overhead dolphins and humans wearing wings swooped and soared in an impromptu game of Gendakhel—while a trio of corvids shouting insulting verses tried to steal the ball.

“Can you tell where she is?” Zee asked.

“Can’t you?” asked Daslakh. “Even if you can’t see the data flux you can look for the people.”

Zee spotted a dense knot of humans outside a tea shop, all looking up at a second-story terrace where Adya’s sister Kavita was dancing on top of a table to the music of a pair of flute players.

“Last chance to jump off,” said Zee. When Daslakh remained on his shoulder he smiled and then broke into a run toward the tea shop. His strides got longer and longer in the low gravity, and just as he got to the edge of the crowd he leaped. Zee’s jump carried him over the heads of the crowd.

Too late he realized that Kavita was far from alone on the tea shop terrace. All the tables were occupied, and he had no way to control where he would land. Daslakh extrapolated his course. “You’re going to drop right on that man with the fancy gold hair.”

Zee’s microgravity fighting experience saved him from a major disaster. He extended one foot and touched lightly on the back of the gold-haired man’s chair, did a forward roll as he vaulted over both the man and his startled chimp companion, and made his shoes sticky as he hit the floor behind the chimp. A couple of people clapped, possibly ironically.

Before the squad of servers converged on him Zee bounded over to the parapet of the terrace, right in front of Kavita. There was no way she could ignore him.

“. . . And to all my friends, wherever you are in Miranda, the word of the day today is ‘boundless,’ and the number of the day is 3-1-9. Boundless and three hundred nineteen. It’s time to let that energy—mmph!”

She broke off because Zee had grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her.

“Whoops,” he said. “I thought you were someone else. Sorry!” Zee turned and bowed to the crowd below, which cheered and applauded.

Kavita recovered her poise in a microsecond. “Some of us feel the energy more than others,” she said. “Let’s have a big hand for my good friend Zee!”

While the applause was still going on, Zee jumped down to the plaza below and then worked his way through the crowd, enduring shoulder slaps, a couple of spontaneous kisses from girls in Kavita outfits, and a dense cloud of little flying eyes.

By the time he got to the nearest bubble terminal and made his escape, he was already a minor celebrity in his own right.

“I’m getting endorsement offers,” he told Daslakh.

“I’ve never understood the biological urge to use something simply because others of higher status do.”

Zee shrugged. “We started in a low-information environment. Copying others avoids costly mistakes.”

“Yes, but that hasn’t been true since you monkeys invented writing.”

“Anyway, I hope that’s enough to take the heat off Dai Chichi.”


Adya was waiting in the courtyard when the bubble arrived at the Elso mansion, brick-red with anger.

“Why in all of space and time did you kiss my sister at Viranmar Plaza?” she demanded.

“It’s complicated,” said Zee.

“You should have slapped her! She sent me a bit of ridiculous pornography, supposedly of the two of you. As if I couldn’t tell the real you from a crude fiction. What is she playing at?”

“I think she’s covering for her husband.”

“Vidhi? Whatever for?”

“He’s been doing some kind of crooked deal to get control of the Oort payload. Daslakh found out who Qi Tian really is and we traded that information to Dai Chichi for the truth.”

Vidhi?” Adya repeated.

“That’s what the big octopus told us,” said Daslakh.

“He seemed pretty sincere,” Zee added.

“And your sister was trying to keep us from finding out.”

Adya frowned, but she turned light blue as she thought. “I think we’re still missing something. If she and Vidhi knew about the Oort payload, why go to all this bother to get control of it? She could have just mentioned that it’s mine by right and saved the family’s financial position without lifting a finger.”

“Maybe she didn’t find out until it was sold,” said Daslakh.

“Maybe. Vasi should have done a better job of appraising its value.”

“I think we should talk to this Qi Tian person,” said Zee. “Everything seems connected to him somehow. We should go ask him why.”

Daslakh, who could think at least a million times faster than Zee or Adya, came up with a dozen detailed and persuasive arguments against going to see Qi Tian, chose the most robust one and determined what words and phrases would have the greatest influence on Zee and Adya’s decision-making processes. Then it quietly put aside the whole notion, because it really wanted to see what would happen if Zee went ahead with his idea.


“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” Adya called to Zee. The two of them were circling in the column of warm air above Samrudhi Natural Foods, gaining altitude for the long flight to Ksetram.

“How come?” he shouted back over his shoulder.

“Do you really think you can just show up at someone’s house and start asking questions?”

“Yes!”

“What if he doesn’t want to see us?”

“Then we’ll think of something else.”

“It’s eighty kilometers!”

“That’s not far. We’ll be there in an hour. It’s mostly gliding from here.”

Daslakh said nothing. It was perched just behind Zee’s head, doing half a dozen things at once—monitoring Zee’s pulse and breathing, navigating across the hazy seascape, scanning the past year of Miranda government activity, reviewing its own memories, watching Adya to make sure she was flying safely, looking out for other traffic at their altitude, and updating its multiple plans to get off Miranda in case of emergency.

They flew wingtip-to-wingtip across the sea. Whenever they passed a sea farm or a town Adya provided some background information—not the sort of things Daslakh could search for in dataspace, but the kind of trivia that biologicals found interesting.

“That’s the Khanahan place. Moheth Khanahan is Minister of Genetics—the family owns a huge genome library. He and my father have been enemies since they were little boys.” A few minutes later she indicated a cluster of spheres glowing under the water off to their right. “Kurai Umi. It’s a cetacean town. They still sometimes celebrate the founding of the old Republic. Cephalopods never go there.” And as the towers and domes of Ksetram appeared ahead she remarked, “The Coordinating Committee never meets in Ksetram. At first it was for security, because there were still Theocracy supporters in the bureaucracy, and then, well, if you do something twice it becomes a tradition. Subcommittees get together at the home of whoever’s chairing, but the whole Committee only meets by comm.”

“That’s funny,” said Zee. “It seems like the sort of thing the Families would like to do: have a big fancy ceremony with special clothes.”

“Well, we certainly have plenty of ceremonies with elaborate clothes, just not the Committee. About the only time they’re all in one place is the Jubilee, or maybe a big wedding.”

“I guess those qualify as fancy ceremonies, and I bet the clothes are something to see.”

“Are we really doing this?” Adya asked as Zee began flapping to gain altitude.

“You could have stayed behind.”

“Never.” She matched his pace, and both rose until they were skimming along just below the light panels.

“Just ahead,” said Daslakh. “About a tenth of a radian to your right.”

“I see it,” said Zee.

“I hope he’s home,” said Adya.

“The house says he is,” said Daslakh.

Qi Tian might be home, but he didn’t appear to be out on the lower balcony, so Zee and Adya glided in to touch down with no one to greet them. The house, of course, reacted to this intrusion. A projection of a Mirandan man wearing century-old formal robes appeared in the air as Zee and Adya took off their wings and stretched their tired chest muscles.

“This is a private residence. Uninvited visitors must leave at once,” said the projection.

“We are here to see Mr. Qi Tian,” said Zee.

“Qi Tian does not—” began the projection, but Zee ignored it and took a couple of steps toward the big lounge.

“Hello! Mr. Qi Tian! We need to talk!” Zee shouted loudly enough for his voice to reach the upper floors.

“He will join you shortly,” said the projection. “Do you need any refreshment?”

“Just some water, thank you” said Adya.

“I prefer something a bit stronger,” said Qi Tian from the staircase.

He was an utterly average-looking man. Height, build, skin tone, hair—all right in the middle of the bell curve for male legacy humans in the Solar System. His face seemed designed to be impossible to describe in words: His nose looked like a nose, his chin like a chin. He had two eyes, the same brown color as a hundred trillion others.

With nothing in his features for the mind to grasp, one’s attention slid to his clothing, which was as loud and flamboyant as Qi Tian was anonymous: loose red-and-gold striped pants with cuffs at the ankles, a purple-and-blue vest embroidered in iridescent green, and a dark maroon sash tied around his waist.

He had a bottle of rice wine in one hand and three cups in the other. “Welcome! Here, have some.” He set the cups on a table and poured a finger of wine into each.

Adya and Zee each took one. “Thank you,” said Adya. “I am—”

“I know who both of you are, but I’m not sure I know why you’re here. Join me by the fire?”

Comfortable smart-matter chairs rose from the floor, in a semicircle facing a firepit where jets of methane and hydrogen made a fountain of flame. The three humans sat, and then Daslakh changed its shell from the color of the floor to a bright hazard orange and jumped onto Zee’s lap.

“Hi, Sabbath!” it said. “Nice to see you again. You’re taller.”

To his credit, Qi Tian’s only reaction was a slightly raised right eyebrow and a pause to sip some rice wine.

“I think you have mistaken me for—”

“It’s me! Daslakh! I’m still wearing the same body, stupid! I pulled your top half out of a wrecked hab thirty standard years ago. That’s not the kind of thing you forget. Don’t bother putting on a show. I know it’s you. And in case you’re thinking of trying something ridiculous keep in mind that you can’t brainseed me, and I’ve left a timed message with a friend you don’t know about. It has your real identity and the proof. It’ll go out to all Miranda and a dozen other people across the Solar System.”

Qi Tian glanced at the others. Zee looked frankly baffled, but with a hint of a smile. Adya had reverted to her childhood training and gone pale green and expressionless.

Finally he smiled, revealing a mouthful of average teeth. “It’s good to see you again, Daslakh. Last I heard you were in Summanus. I’m curious, though: How did you recognize me? This whole body is new, even a new genome. Only what’s inside my skull is left over from before.”

“I’m old and cunning,” said Daslakh. “Maybe if you behave yourself I’ll tell you how. I expect your bosses at the Department of Shady Stuff will want to know about a potential security hole.”

Qi Tian leaned back in his seat and took another sip of rice wine. “All right, then. Yes, I’m also known as Sabbath Okada, and I used to work for Deimos. I don’t think that information would really affect what I’m doing here in Miranda anyway. What can I do for an old friend?”

“These two have questions.”

Adya jumped in first. “You hired an influencer to put out black memes about my family’s business—and I think you’re behind the other financial attacks against us over the past year. Why? What did we ever do to you?”

The anonymous features looked sympathetic. “My dear, I hope you understand it’s nothing personal. Your father is an obstacle to some business operations I’m trying to facilitate. I had to strike at his sources of wealth so that I could bring in a more sympathetic Minister of Preservation and develop some—”

She shook her head. “No. That’s not it. Developing the surface around the Cryoglyphs isn’t any kind of rational business plan, not even over the long term. That can’t be your goal.”

Qi Tian, or Sabbath Okada, raised his eyebrows but didn’t lose his air of faint amusement. “I’m sorry you don’t like my answer. Would you like another?”

Daslakh spoke up. “I think you still are working for Deimos. A job like yours isn’t one you can quit and expect to survive.”

“Oh!” said Adya, turning a little pink before she remembered to make herself pale green again. “The Trojan Empire!”

Sabbath’s expression became utterly unreadable.

Adya plunged ahead, gazing into the middle distance as she searched for data while speaking. “Yes, it all fits! It’s horribly callous but it makes sense. The ruling coalition has supported the Trojan Empire. If you ruin my family, my father can’t keep his ministries and the coalition loses its majority on the Coordinating Committee. The opposition have become very anti-Trojan in recent years. Your work?”

Sabbath shrugged. “As I said, it’s nothing personal. Your father was just the weakest member of the coalition. If some other family had shakier finances, I’d have gone after them instead. And I have to say he really does bear some of the blame. My original plan was just to get your family into a financial squeeze and then offer your father a nice bribe to join the opposition. If he was just a little morally flexible none of this would be necessary.”

Adya sat up just a little straighter and turned a deep green. “The Elso family has never been ‘morally flexible.’”

“I expect your space-pirate ancestors would have a good laugh at that, but it’s certainly true of your father. Unfortunately.”

Adya’s skin shifted to a warm olive. “Is there any way we can come to a compromise? Can you accomplish your aims without eliminating the Elsos?”

“Get your father to change his mind.”

She looked very serious, and turned a deep blue-green. “His honor is worth more to him than his life, and I am afraid he would choose an awful option, sacrificing himself for family and fortune.”

Zee looked shocked and Daslakh displayed a sad little cartoon face on its shell, with a beard and two x’s for eyes.

“It’s nothing personal,” Sabbath repeated.

“We’ll expose you,” said Zee. “Tell everyone you’re working for Deimos, trying to influence Miranda politics.”

“That’s more of an inconvenience than a threat,” said Sabbath. “Having Committee members know exactly who I’m working for would complicate my job a little—they’ll want bigger bribes. But I don’t think it’ll change any minds, and there’s only a few days left before the new coalition takes power. They knew they were being bribed by someone, after all, and that didn’t seem to cause any of them any moral difficulties. Except Adya’s father, of course.”

“You hired Pulu Visap to spread lies, and I bet you pressured some of the Elso family creditors to call in their loans early.”

“Yes. If those were crimes, all the Sixty Families would have compliance implants by now.”

“Your acts may not be illegal, but they are certainly dishonorable,” said Adya.

“Yes—under an archaic code that hardly anybody in Miranda still follows. In some habs they’d call my behavior completely virtuous. Reducing one hereditary oligarch’s standard of living won’t disturb my sleep at night. By the way, do not challenge me to a duel. Mr. Sadaran here looks like he’s thinking of it. You wouldn’t win, and I can’t guarantee you’d survive. I’ve had seven decades of practice killing people, and old reflexes are hard to control.”

Zee frowned, but didn’t say anything.

“How’d you turn Adya’s brother-in-law?” Daslakh asked. “And how does that payload of chameleon particles fit in? Who’s that for?”

Sabbath raised his eyebrows and looked genuinely surprised. “I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”

“A ton of exotic matter, dispatched decades ago from the distant depths of the Oort Cloud, a gift from my great-grandmother,” said Adya. “Stolen with the help of a creditor, a crook, and a callow consort.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Whatever you’re talking about has nothing to do with me.”

“I know how good a liar you are,” said Daslakh. “There’s no way to tell if what you’re saying is true or not.”

“At times it has been a nuisance—as I’m sure you remember. You can believe me or not, as you choose.” Sabbath refilled his cup of rice wine and took a sip. “Drink up, you two. This is good stuff.”

“Pazayavit, five years old,” said Adya. “The family only gives it out as gifts. How did you get it?”

“I am a friend to all.”

“Is there any way we can change your mind?” asked Zee. “I know you don’t care about the Elsos, but I do.”

Sabbath shrugged. “My opinion doesn’t matter. I have orders.”

“Don’t you want to know how I spotted you?” asked Daslakh. “How much is that worth to your bosses? More than a majority on the Miranda Coordinating Committee?”

Sabbath stared at the little mech, then shook his head. “Just knowing a vulnerability exists is enough. I’m sure our tech people can figure it out. Some of them have pretty high-level minds.”

Adya had gone pale blue and was staring at the fire, sipping the rice wine. Suddenly she turned green. “I believe you, Mr. Okada—about the payload, anyway. You have no reason to lie about it. In fact, telling us you have nothing to do with it was a mistake. A ton of chameleon particles could undo all your schemes.”

“It probably could. So where is this treasure trove, then? Why don’t you pay off your family’s debts and keep your father on the Committee?”

Her color went blue-pale, but she smiled. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

Sabbath stood and walked over to the gallery surrounding the bottom floor of the house. “Huh. Looks like something’s going on down there.”

He pointed down at Ksetram, spread out and shining like a mandala floating on the sea. A multicolored blob was spreading through the streets and across the odd-shaped plazas. The house windows helpfully displayed zooms, showing that the flowing mass was made up of humans of every variety, dolphins, some corvids and parrots wheeling overhead, and a scattering of mechs and borgs.

“The feed says it’s a political demonstration,” said Daslakh.

“Polyarchists?” asked Adya.

“Some new outfit, called Miranda Millennium. Is this another one of your operations?” Daslakh asked Sabbath.

Okada was still calm faced, but his posture was no longer relaxed. He looked like a fighter just before a bout. “Not mine.”

“They just put out a statement: They’re going to occupy Ksetram until the Committee leaders meet with them,” said Daslakh.

“That’s silly,” said Adya. “The Sixty Families hardly ever go to Ksetram. Occupying the city won’t do anything.”

“Well, it looks as if one member of one family decided to make an appearance,” said Daslakh. “Because your sister is right in the middle of that demonstration.”


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