Come the Revolution: Chapter Five

    Borro, The’On‘s bodyguard, turned to me in the private autopod the next morning. “Where exactly is the meeting?”

    “Chambers of some supposedly neutral counseling house,” I answered. “Good-Soul they’re called, right here in Praha-Riz, Level Four, South Tower. We’ll stop at Marr’s office suite on Level Nineteen to pick up Gaisaana-la.”

    “Why would they consider your home archology neutral ground?”

    “Well, it’s a pretty big place and we don’t get along with all our neighbors. The wattaak from Red Forest Twenty-one is the lead speaker on the new edict.”

    “Ah,” he said and nodded. “And you question whether the counseling house is actually neutral?”

    “You know who’s neutral, Borro? Dead people.”

    He smiled his agreement and I settled back to clear my mind.

    Prahaa-Riz arcology — the Red Forest — housed most of the corporate chambers of AZ Simki-Traak Trans-Stellar and two other large merchant houses, but I’d have chosen it as a home anyway, just based on looks. All of the other arcologies in Sakkatto, regardless of the material or design, looked alien: conceived by alien minds, rendered by alien hands. Prahaa-Riz, on the other hand, looked like an enormous topiary shrubbery, with glass and metallic bits showing here and there from the interior.

    The news feed earlier had said the last of the fires from the riots were being extinguished this morning, but from the balcony before we left I saw a lot of smoke still rising from the slums, particularly the Human Quarter south of Katammu-Arc, and this was after rain. The towers of smoke had provided a forbidding backdrop to our upcoming meeting. Borro must have thought the same thing.

    “I wonder if the riots have subsided.” he said.

    The’On‘s concentration had been on his viewer glasses but now he looked at us and shook his head. “They seem to be spreading.”

    Ah-Quan, the fourth passenger in our pod, belched.

    Gaisaana-la, Marr’s senior executive assistant, was a tall, middle-aged Varoki female. Despite a first-class education, she was unprepared for the high-level politics and economics of running an interstellar trading empire — or trying to get a hand on the tiller when the rest of management was trying to make Marr and her staff non-functional ornaments. Well, nothing could prepare a Varoki female to deal with a room full of males born to wealth, power, and entitlement, especially since they had also been raised to think of females as not much more than domestic servants. So nothing had prepared Gaisaana-la for this life, but she’d taken to it anyway, somehow. I think some people must just be born to punch above their weight class.

    “Executor e-Lotonaa, it is an honor to see you again,” she said to The’On with a slight bow. To be honest, she didn’t look all that happy to see him.

    “And I you, Madame Gaisaana-la. I see you are well,” he answered but his smile did not draw one in reply. Instead she turned away to me.

    Usually folks liked The’On; he had a way about him. He’s never run for elective office, which I thought was odd since he would have been a natural at it. Instead, most of his jobs had been bureaucratic, rising steadily through the ranks of the Cottohazz Executive Council’s administrative and quasi-diplomatic positions. He was what my late Ukrainian father would have called an aparatnyk. Maybe that’s what Gaisaana-la didn’t like about him.

    “Mister Naradnyo,” she said to me as we shook hands and she smiled. “Madame Marfoglia told me you would be along as well. I will feel safer with you here.”

    “I’m unarmed,” I said, “so I’m mostly here to spot trouble coming. How’s it been this morning?”

    She frowned. “Perhaps a third of the staff did not report for work. Many of them are from other arcologies, and transportation has been problematic. Some are afraid.”

    “Afraid to be caught hanging around us when things get ugly?” I asked and she tilted her head to the side.

    I turned to ah-Quaan, who had mostly been absorbed by his own viewer glasses, which were linked into a Munie security feed.

    “Do we know what’s up with the demonstrations?”

    “Riots outside spreading,” he said, “further north, not here. Ground access locked down. Hard for riot spilling over by maglev, air shuttle.”

    Yeah, if they really were spontaneous, but ah-Quan continued.

    “Municipal constabulary gave access to video feed South Tower Atrium, nearest hub to chambers Good-Soul Counselors. Peaceful demonstrations there yesterday; no demonstration today, but limited information precludes reliable assessment.”

    “South Tower Atrium. Is that in the Red Forest Twenty-one Wat District?” I asked.

    His eyes lost focus as he concentrated on his viewer for a moment and then he looked me in the eye. “Yes. Is that significant?

    “Probably not,” I said, but it was hard to know. Ah-Quan was right: not enough information to make a good guess, and that made me nervous. There was a time when I’d gladly charged into dangerous situations with less data than this, but ever since I died I’d become more cautious. No matter how bad things get, most people never believe deep down inside they’re really going to die. Once it actually happens to you, you know better, and that knowledge changes you.

    “Let’s get going. The sooner we’re done and out of here, the better I’ll feel.”

    The five of us took a private autopod from the office suite to South Tower Atrium. The’On and Gaisaana-la spent the time going over the agenda and arguing about our negotiating position, which was bizarre. The position was simplicity itself: we were willing to talk and willing to listen, but we weren’t giving a Goddamned inch on Tweezaa’s legal rights. They weren’t ours to bargain away. But The’On and Gaisaana-la were arguing about fine points of language so subtle I couldn’t even tell the difference between them, not that my aGavoosh was anywhere near as polished as theirs. But it wasn’t long before I got the idea Gaisaana-la was just pissed at The’On and arguing on general principle. The’On was getting frustrated as well, and this wasn’t like either of them. Finally I butted in.

    “What’s the problem here?”

    “I do not know exactly,” The’On answered, exasperation plain in his voice…

    Gaisaana-la sat quietly for a few seconds and then looked at me.

    “I was not told in advance of the adoption.”

    “It was very closely held,” I said. “We did not want to put you in a position where you might have to decide between the telling the truth and protecting our secret.”

    She nodded to the side slightly. “I appreciate that. Nevertheless, I have yet to receive any communication concerning the disposition of the office and its staff. It seems logical that Tweezaa e-Traak will live with her adoptive father, presumably in Kootrin, and that Madame Marfoglia will accompany her. One assumes part or all of the staff will either be transferred as well or will be replaced.”

    “Well . . . with all that’s happened in the last few days we haven’t given that as much thought as it probably deserves,” I said. “Hopefully this meeting today will help settle things down and then we can figure all the rest of it out as well. I’m sure Marrissa intends you to be part of the transition planning, assuming there is much of a transition. I just don’t know yet.”

    She made that small nod to the side again, her face expressionless.

    “Are you offended that you were not included in the planning?” The’On asked.

    “I am disturbed by the action itself. Tweezaa e-Traak is uBakai. Saying she is now suddenly uKootrin is . . . inauthentic. I understand the legal convenience of the move, but I wish it had been possible to negotiate a solution before the adoption was finalized. But that is meaningless now. We are committed to this course of action and I will support it to the best of my abilities.”

    She sat back and stared straight ahead. I knew her well enough to know that if she said she’d give us her best game in there, she would, or at least I thought so. But she was upset, and that unsettled me.

    The’On frowned, partly in embarrassment I think. I resisted the temptation to argue with her. It’s true we’d decided to preempt the opposition with the adoption. I didn’t think we did it just to take a victory lap. I thought we’d considered the options very carefully and decided this was really our one good play. I had to admit, though, we’d all felt pretty smug about it. We’d all smiled at the thought of short-circuiting all those carefully-laid plans by the opposition. I didn’t think there was another way, but maybe if we’d thought harder about it we could have come up with one. Maybe, maybe not. In either case it was too late now. The train had left the station.

    The question was whether our decision had compromised Gaisaana-la’s loyalty, a notion which had never occurred to me or anyone else until right that moment. And if it had compromised it, what did that mean in material terms?

    “Atrium still calm?” I asked ah-Quan. He hesitated before answering, studying the video feed through his viewer glasses.

    “Still calm, but more Varoki than before. Not moving, just waiting for something.”

    I glanced at Borro who had overheard the exchange. He pulled his gauss pistol from his shoulder holster and checked the charge level and flechette magazine.

    “They aren’t going to let you take that into the council chambers,” I said.

    “That assumes we actually get there,” he answered.

    ah-Quan un-holstered his own gauss pistol, which looked about twice the size of Borro’s, and checked it as well. I hadn’t brought a side arm, and as I sat there I wondered why.

    The autopod decelerated smoothly to a stop and I could see the main atrium through the clear transit tube even before the doors slid open. The atrium was at least a hundred meters tall, lined with open vine-draped balconies from each of the levels above and below us. The tube station deposited us four levels up from the broad plaza. The plaza’s floor was an elaborate terra cotta mosaic surrounding a tall fountain, topped by a metallic abstract sculpture, a sparkling, whispering irregular column of polished metal and cascading water which climbed at least fifty meters up the center of the atrium. But the beauty was marred, by the hundreds — no, thousands — of Varoki lining all of the balcony railings in the atrium, all the way up to the top, unmoving, silently staring at us.

    You know what’s scarier than a couple thousand angry people? A couple thousand silent, motionless people — scarier and infinitely more creepy. I was about to get everyone back into the autopod when I saw a familiar Varoki striding down the broad corridor stretching south toward the riverside wing of the tower, none other than my old pal from the cocktail party, Elaamu Gaant, best-selling author of inspirational, motivational, and self-improvement tracts, and self-proclaimed mastermind behind the Edict for the Preservation of Familial Assets.

    “Well well,” I said, “look who’s here. I didn’t see you on the guest list for this sit-down, Mister Gaant.”

    “Possibly an oversight,” he said. “Ah, and this would be the Honorable e-Lotonaa. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said turning to The’On, bowing slightly and raising his open hands to shoulder height, the old Varoki equivalent of a handshake. The’On returned the gesture without the bow. More and more Varoki had adopted the Human habit of actually shaking hands, but lately there’d been a growing backlash against borrowed Human customs. Gaant was clearly a traditionalist.

    “I have heard of your speeches and recordings, Mister Gaant,” The’On said. “I understand they are quite popular. Allow me to introduce Madame Gaisaana-la, who will speak for Tweeza’s guardian, Madame Marfoglia.”

    Gaisaana-la bowed but did not offer her open hands. Gaant barely nodded in response. Was that the run-of-the-mill Varoki traditionalist dismissal of a female in a position of responsibility? Or was it an attempt to disguise a relationship or alliance? Or was that just my paranoia talking?

    “Madame Marfoglia could not join us?” Gaant asked.

    “Security concerns precluded it,” I answered. I glanced up and around at the thousands of quiet, staring faces in the atrium. “Pretty good call, I’m thinking.”

    Gaant smiled and tilted his head to the side. “These people? Why would you fear them? They are residents of this arcology and have the right to travel anywhere in it. They do not create a disturbance and do nothing to threaten you. I think any fair observer would find your objection to them unreasonable.”

    The smugness in his voice made up my mind.

    “Okay, folks, back in the autopod,” I said, and turned to leave.

    “Wait!” Gaant said. “Please. Lives may be saved by these talks. I am sorry if your own neighbors frighten you, but I have come to escort you personally to the talks. No harm will befall you while I am with you.”

    “Yeah? And what about afterwards? What about getting out of this with our skins intact?”

    Gaant spread his arms wide. “I will accompany you again, if it will make you happy. Really, Mister Naradnyo, you have no grounds to distrust me. At our last meeting I was more forthcoming to you concerning my intentions than you were to me.”

    “Don’t pull that crap on me. We were both exactly as forthcoming as served our purposes.”

    Gaant looked at me for a moment, maybe trying to assess my intentions, then he walked to the nearest railing, raised his head, and called out in a voice which filled the atrium. If nothing else, the guy had a good set of lungs.

    “People of Prahaa-Riz, you know me. These people are my guests. I ask you to extend them the same courtesy you would me. Will you do this thing?”

    “YES!” a thousand voices barked in unison like a thunderclap, a solid wall of sound I felt hit me like a tsunami, a wave of sound that made the water flowing down the sculpture spray out from the metal, echoed in the atrium, and made the hanging vines shiver. The hair rose on my arms and neck as a jolt of adrenaline surged through me. Beside me The’On‘s and Gaisaana-la’s ears flattened back and their skin turned pale. Borro’s ears and skin remained unaltered, as if he were a statue. That was the result of years of training and probably more violent encounters than I wanted to know about. Behind me, ah-Quan belched again.

    Gaant turned back to us, the same soft smile on his face.

    “You see? You have nothing to fear here. And I assure you, Sasha Naradnyo, you will find this meeting enormously interesting. Others in the meeting will be as surprised as you at the course it takes, and I think you will want to see their surprise with your own eyes.”

    Something in the way he said that convinced me. He had set some sort of ambush here, but we weren’t the targets. The targets were the assholes who had been making my and Marr’s and Tweezaa’s life one drama after another for two solid years. Would I stick around and watch them brought down a peg? I nodded and we followed Gaant down the south corridor. After about twenty meters or so I heard murmured conversation behind me and turned to see ah-Quan handing his big gauss pistol and spare magazines over to Borro. I stopped until they caught up, then walked beside them and gave Borro a questioning look.

    “You will look after The’On during the meeting,” he said.

    Despite the gravity of the situation I couldn’t help but smile. I’d never heard Borro call The’On anything but his given name or formal title, never the nickname I’d given him. Borro saw my grin and bobbed his head to the side.

    “Yes, that little slip will remain our secret, yes?”

    “Where you gonna be?” I asked.

    “We cannot take our weapons in, and three unarmed security guards will be no more use than two. There is no guarantee that weapons surrendered at the security station will be returned when and if needed. I will stay out here and observe. As a Varoki, I can blend into the crowd. If there is treachery, I will be free to act.”

    “Yeah, good thinking,” I said. I looked back at the silent crowd which now filled the corridor, walking slowly after us. “So tell me — not that we’ve got much choice now — but is going into this meeting as stupid as I’m starting to think it is?”

    “Oh, no,” he answered. “Much more so than that.”