Geosynchron (14 page)

Meanwhile, the company name had become something of a joke:
Margaret Surina was dead, Natch had turned phantom, and MultiReal
had evaporated with him. All the fiefcorp had left was a handful of bad
bio/logic products they had purchased from Lucas Sentinel, and a lawsuit against them by the Surina family that was already growing so
tangled and pointless it verged on the Kafkaesque.

Perhaps if both John Ridglee and Sen Sivv Sor were seeking her
attention, there might be some news worth hearing. Maybe even some
news about-

"Natch," said Ridglee five minutes later, sliding a steaming mug
of chaff across the table at the local pub.

Jara wafted the cinnamon towards her face and inhaled deeply.
"What about him?"

"Have you seen him?"

"No. You?" The fiefcorp master lifted the mug with two hands and
sipped delicately. "John, you asked me the same thing last week and
the week before. What makes you think anything's changed?"

"Come on, Jara," said Sor, "we all know that Natch hasn't had an
unchoreographed moment his whole life. You expect us to believe he
didn't plan that circus at the Tul Jabbor Complex?"

Jara frowned. It was truly bizarre how much cachet Natch's name
had acquired during his absence. It was only a month ago that drudges
like Sor and Ridglee were ranting about Natch's shady business tactics
and accusing him of murdering Margaret Surina. Now, it seemed,
Natch had become some sort of demigod. Suddenly he was the man
who had topped the Primo's bio/logic investment guide faster than
anyone in history, the man who had taken on the Patel Brothers and
the Defense and Wellness Council, the man who had shrugged off an
assassination attempt by Len Borda and disappeared right under the
noses of a billion spectators. The drudges were starting to spout
phrases like as cunning as Natch and a problem only Natch could solve,
which made Jara want to retch.

"Sen," said Jara, "you really think Natch planned that attack at the
Tul Jabbor Complex? Boy, he must really be a masochist. Go ahead,
tell me why he would possibly goad the Council into trying to murder
him."

"You know why," said Ridglee, his voice hinting at a friendly
familiarity that he and Jara didn't share.

The fiefcorp master caught the attention of the woman behind the
counter, mouthed the word scone, and pointed to the tabletop. "No. In
fact, I don't know why at all."

Sen Sivv Sor gave a furtive look around at the bar patrons who
couldn't have been paying less attention. He opened a ConfidentialWhisper channel. "The lawsuit," he said, using a melodramatic stage
whisper even over silent mental chat.

Jara laughed, barely refraining herself from spraying the drudge
with a mouthful of chaff. "Suheil and Jayze Surina's lawsuit?" she said
aloud, making no effort to modulate her voice. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely," replied the drudge, unfazed by her ridicule.

"Sen, they just want money. You've met those two, haven't you? The
only reason Jayze is trying to recover the funds that Margaret poured
into the company is because she's vindictive. And Suheil is just playing
along because he has no spine." The scone arrived. Jara smiled at the
waitress and pointed in Sen Sivv Sor's direction to indicate that he'd be
handling the bill. "Natch doesn't care about money. He wouldn't pay
any attention to this dumb lawsuit, even if he was still running the
company."

"Ah, but this lawsuit isn't really about money, is it?" interjected
Ridglee, leaning forward over the table for emphasis. "It's about"-he
repeated Sor's conspiratorial glance at the surrounds, and tried to
switch the conversation back to Confidential Whisper-"MultiReal."

"We don't have access to MultiReal anymore," replied Jara in her
natural voice, refusing to follow the drudge's lead. "Natch ran off with
the databases. The Surinas know that, and so do you. Even if we did
know where to find MultiReal, it's been seized by the Prime Committee." She dug into the pastry on the plate in front of her. Dry. Flaky.
Good.

Ridglee and Sor shared a look that hinted at a list of confidential
sources being exchanged and compared. As Jara polished off her scone,
the knowing glimmer in their eyes only seemed to increase. The fiefcorp master felt the first twitches of doubt.

"Try this on for size," said Ridglee over the silent channel, sitting
back in his seat and folding his arms brashly across his chest. "Natch
stages a disappearance at the Tul Jabbor Complex to draw Len Borda
off his scent."

"To draw everybody off his scent," put in Sor.

"He lets the Surinas proceed with their trial and build up a big head of steam. He waits until they're at the very edge of victory. Then
he shows up as a surprise witness after the Surinas have rested their case
with a ton of exculpatory evidence. The court rules in the fiefcorp's
favor, establishing a legal precedent. So when Magan Kai Lee finally
overthrows Len Borda-"

Jara made a dismissive noise under her breath. "That's a big leap."

"-Natch is in a good position to appeal the Prime Committee's
ruling. Once Borda's gone, the Committee won't be under the high
executive's thumb anymore. They might reverse their decision to seize
MultiReal. That leaves Natch as the sole supplier in the marketplace
of MultiReal products." John Ridglee gave a self-satisfied nod in Sor's
direction, which Sor echoed right back. "So what do you think?"

The fiefcorp master lifted her cup of chaff and slurped the last few
centimeters down. Then she placed the cup firmly on the table and
stood. "I think you owe the pub twenty-five Vault credits," she said.
"Towards Perfection, gentlemen."

"Do you want to know the most annoying part?" said Jara.

Horvil chose to ignore her and concentrate on his dive instead. He
stood at the edge of the platform in a plaid robe, loosely sashed, with
his hands over his head and fingertips pressed together. He counted to
three and made a surprisingly graceful leap off the side. Jara propped
herself up on one elbow and watched as Horvil did a pair of loop-deloops through the air beneath the transparent platform. He landed on
the opposite edge, did a tuck-and-roll, and flopped down beside her on
the pile of cushions. "No," he said. "What is the most annoying part?"

Jara knew that the engineer was angling for a laugh, or at the very
least, a playful look of exasperation. She gave him a half-smile instead
and pressed on with the conversation. "It's the way the drudges treat
Natch like some kind of miracle worker. When Natch was around, they couldn't stop pointing out what a monster he was. Now that he's
gone, they fawn over him like he's Sheldon Surina."

Horvil grinned and lay back with his hands behind his head.
"Natch did do a good job of manipulating everyone for a few months,"
he said.

"Of course. But the drudges can't even conceive of the idea that
someone might have finally gotten the better of him. You should have
heard Ridglee. Natch stages a disappearance at the Tul Jabbor Complex to
draw Len Borda off his scent. " She puffed herself up and stroked an imaginary goatee in caricature. "Like Natch is capable of just snapping his
fingers and rearranging the world."

The engineer shrugged and put one arm over her shoulder. Jara
wondered fleetingly if she had offended him. Horvil wasn't the type to
take offense easily-but then again, they were talking about Natch,
his oldest and best friend. Even when Natch had threatened Horvil's
career a month ago, Horvil had had nothing but excuses for the entrepreneur's behavior.

"Do you think that Ridglee and Sor might be on to something?"
asked Horvil.

"Come on. Natch can't just stage manage Len Borda like-"

"No, no, forget about Natch for a second. I'm talking about the
lawsuit. This isn't the first strange thing we've seen with this case."

"You mean the Pharisee?"

Horvil made a noncommittal sound, but Jara could tell she had
struck home. She had only met two or three Pharisees her entire life,
even through the whole MultiReal experience. But now some representative of the Pharisee tribes had evidently taken an interest in the case.
He had attended every day of the preliminaries so far, sitting in the
back of the chamber like a shaggy harbinger of doom. He was a bulky
man, almost Horvilesque, this representative of the unconnectible
tribes living beyond the edges of civilization. But unlike Horvil, who
bore such an air of humor and civility that he threatened no one, this Pharisee was a cipher. His body language betrayed nothing. He simply
sat in his seat and stared for hours from beneath his tremendous curly
hair and beard, tugging irritably at the connectible collar that the
Prime Committee mandated he wear in public. It was unnerving.

"Yeah, there's the Pharisee," said Horvil. "But that's not the only
odd thing about this lawsuit. Jayze and Suheil have been acting
strange too. Did you see the way that their legal team suddenly doubled in size overnight?"

Jara nodded. "Then there are all those Council officers marching in
front of the building day and night."

"Listen, Jara. Ridglee and Sor might be idiots-but you can't deny
they've got sources. Lots of sources. They didn't come up with this idea
on their own. Somebody put this bug in their ears."

"So what do you think is going on?"

Horvil had no answer.

The fiefcorp master lay back against Horvil's collarbone and tried
to fit the pieces together in her head. Some of the oddity could be
attributed to the aura of chaos that surrounded everything the Surina
clan touched. Undoubtedly people were curious how Jayze and Suheil
were going to run the family's affairs now that Margaret had passed on.
People were curious how long their uneasy truce would hold. Yet that
didn't explain the presence of factors beyond the Surinas' sphere of
influence: the Council, the Pharisee, the drudges.

"It feels like I've stumbled into one of my grandfather's chess
games," said Jara. "I'm standing there on the board watching the
players execute all these complicated strategies. But I can't even figure
out who's playing. There are higher powers out there trying to change
the outcome of this stupid lawsuit. Why? For a pile of money and the
title to a program that's technically already been seized by the government. So who are these higher powers? And should I be fighting them,
or helping them?"

"There's only one thing to do," announced Horvil somberly.

"What's that?"

The engineer burst into a goofy grin. "Forget about it for another
half hour, and spend more money on the Sigh." He flicked his fingers
into the air, causing an enormous text box to appear before them.
CHOOSE AN ENVIRONMENT, said the box. Horvil tapped the drop-down
arrow, causing the list to scroll through thousands of absurdly named
Sigh environments at ludicrous speed.

Jara suppressed a giggle. Only Horvil could find his libido roused
by a discussion about chess. But maybe he was right; angsting about
the problem without any data was only likely to produce more angst.

She turned her attention to the list of virtual environments.
Remarkable how much fun the Sigh could be if you had a tender and
creative partner. For Horvil and Jara, sex could be awkward in the
world of flesh and bone. Even though the engineer had taken off almost
ten kilograms in the past two months, he was still twice her size. But
here on the Sigh, Jara could be a hundred meters tall if she wanted. She
could be the pop star Jeannie Q. Christina or a porpoise or a swarm of
bees, for that matter.

"How about this one?" said Jara, holding her finger over the list.
"`Floating Tapestry of Love."' The listing burst into mock Arabic
script as she pointed to it.

"Hmm," replied Horvil. "I had my eye on `A Rut in the Mud."'

"Or maybe `Romance in Durango."'

"What about `Fawning Slave Girls of the Sultan'?"

"`The Princess and Her Squire."'

"`Contortionist Whores of 49th Heaven."'

"`Aquatic Erotic Adventure."'

"`Vat of Baked Beans."'

"Horvil, we are not going to have sex in a virtual environment
called `Vat of Baked Beans.' It's just not going to happen."

"Okay, then what about `Chocolate Waterfall' . . . ?"

In the end, they decided to do what they always did: let the shifting currents of the Data Sea choose an environment at random.
They ended up floating on a cloud of metallic pixie dust while
Valkyries did battle with tridents and spears all around them. No
matter. Within seconds, their eyes were focused squarely on each other,
and the outside world was safely forgotten.

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