The Ganymede Club (20 page)

Well, his escape was only temporary. He'd be back sometime, looking for food, like the greedy pig that he was. Then he would get it—and she was not referring to food.

Lola slipped off her shoes, removed her stockings, loosened her belt, and took the slides from her long brown hair. She was grimly settling down to review the day's work with Bryce Sonnenberg when the inner office door behind her opened. She was more annoyed than worried. Nobody but Spook came in without knocking on the outer door.

She swung round in her chair. "You revolting little crawler!" she started. She found herself staring at the surprised face of Conner Preston. "Oh. I'm sorry. I thought—"

"That I was your brother," said Preston. "I know. I'm quite familiar with the way that siblings talk to each other."

"You should have knocked."

"I did knock. And I called. Your line was perpetually busy."

"I was trying to find Spook."

"To tell him what you thought of him? I'm sorry, I'm interrupting, aren't I?"

"No, you're not." Lola glared at the file on her display. She didn't want to go through that harrowing session with Bryce Sonnenberg all over again. It could wait until tomorrow. So could her fight with Spook. What she needed tonight was a meal, a drink, and an hour or two of relaxation. She turned back to Conner Preston. "What do you want?"

"It depends what mood you're in. If you're feeling as grim and bitchy as you sound, nothing. On the other hand—" He held up two small gilt cards. "Today is the fortieth anniversary of the first human expedition leaving Earth orbit for the exploration of Saturn. It's a small and exclusive party, no riffraff. Unless of course you happen to be media, who are all riffraff, as you were kind enough to point out to me the other night. But we have to be invited, scum that we are, because if we don't report it, an event didn't happen."

"I'm not media."

"This card and badge says you are, if I say you are. If you say you are, too, who's going to argue? Want to come?"

"Like this?" Lola pushed her hair back from her face and glanced down at her bare feet.

"You look just fine to me." He sounded as though he meant it, too. "But I'm willing to give you fifteen minutes."

"Ten. Just wait here." Lola hurried from the office to the apartment and into her bedroom. Haldanes were the ones who were supposed to read minds, but Conner Preston might as well have been reading hers. A party was exactly what she wanted. Make that
needed
—she had been working too hard for too long.

She did an instant change to a dark-blue formal outfit that she knew suited her coloring, decided to keep her hair down, and was ready to go in nine minutes. That gave her enough time to confirm that Spook was not back and post a threatening note on his door:
"You'd better have a good explanation or you're a dead jerk."
That was weak, but she didn't have time for anything fancy.

When she returned to the office, Conner was sitting in her chair, lolling back and staring idly at the screen. "You look absolutely wonderful," he said, as he turned. "Don't you have to store this away before we leave?" He nodded at the display.

"It's already filed." She moved to his side. "But it ought not to be left where people can see it—he's one of my patients. He might not care, but I do. Not that anyone could get in here to see it anyway."

Conner showed no great interest, but he deliberately turned his head away as she gave the command to clear the file from memory and from the display.

"He must be really rich," he said. "Every media type I know could do to be worked over by a haldane, but we're all too poor."

"That doesn't stop some people. I had a man in just this morning who expected free treatment." Lola led the way out, carefully locking the doors. It had surely been Spook sneaking around in her files, but just in case she didn't want to make it easy for anyone else. "As for you needing a haldane, you seem fine. I don't know what you think I might do for you."

"I'd find something." There was a hint in his voice that said his remark was intended to be taken two ways, and he tucked her arm in his as he led the way along the corridor. She noticed how at ease he now seemed in Ganymede gravity, and how confidently he navigated the system of elevators, escalators, dropchutes, and slideways.

"Necessary professional skill," he said when she remarked on it. "They send me somewhere and expect me to hit the ground running. I have to be in a particular place at the right time, and it's no good saying that I got lost on the way there. Give me another few weeks and I'll take you places you've never been before."

He was already doing that. They had traveled three or four kilometers on a top-speed slideway, to a development beyond Moira Cavern that Lola knew only by reputation. It was First Family country, just a few levels down from the frozen Ganymede surface where the Von Neumanns had created the first habitats. The lifestyle here was now unimaginably different from that of those primitive early days, and the modern decor reeked of wealth. However, money alone was not enough to get you living space in this section. You needed to prove that your family presence on Ganymede went back to the 2030s, when the original settlers had arrived.

"We're going to get thrown out, you know," Lola said, as she noticed ahead of them the biggest pair of doors that she had ever seen, painted in white and gold. "As soon as I open my mouth, they'll realize I have an Earth accent. They'll ask me when I arrived on Ganymede, and that will be it."

"Not a chance." Conner Preston led the way confidently forward, and the doors swung open. "You're not here as a guest or as an equal. You're here as
media.
You don't speak, you listen and record. You don't expect to be admired—or even to admire, because your opinions don't count. Think of us the way they do, as flesh-and-blood service machines, or some sort of invisible vermin. Then you'll be fine. Come on, let's go in."

A small party, he had said. But Conner's idea of "small" was not the same as Lola's. There had to be a couple of hundred people inside, in one lofty chamber almost as high as it was wide. Small knots of people were standing talking to each other, while others formed lines at two great tables that ran down the middle of the room. Lola saw them look at her and Conner Preston, register the gilt media badges, and ostentatiously continue their conversations. If they gave the occasional sideways glance, it was only to make sure that their presence was being noted.

Conner was right. Media people were here to observe rather than to be observed. Lola walked forward to the tables, where a dozen serving machines were rapidly filling orders. The food on other people's plates looked absolutely wonderful. She was starting to give her own order when Conner laid his hand on her arm.

"What's wrong?" She paused. After a few seconds of programed waiting, the machine turned away to serve another woman in a dark-blue dress (similar in color, Lola noticed, to her own, and far more expensive).

"This table is the special food," Conner said softly. "It's for the regular guests. Media food will be at the back."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Lola was beginning to move away from the table when she caught the look on his face—and realized that two people no more than twenty feet away were wearing gilt badges and holding drinks and loaded plates of food. "Conner Preston, you are
rotten.
"

"I am, aren't I?" He took her arm again and led her back to the table. "You don't know much about media people. If my friends didn't have a shot at the best food and drink, they'd never come to parties like this. It's one of the job perks. Order anything you like—or, better still, sit down at the side table there and let me order for you. I know the best stuff at events like this, things that plebs like us never normally get to taste or even to see. I'll bring you your food, and while we're eating, I'll point out the high and mighty."

"Government people?"

"Not tonight. The top dogs here are people whose families had something to do with the original Saturn expedition of 2032. They may look the same as the rest, but they're not."

Lola sat down as directed and allowed herself to relax for what felt like the first time in years. Maybe it was. Since the day that she and Spook had left Earth, she had been required to make every decision, major and minor. It was such a pleasure to let her mind float free and, for just one night, allow someone else to take over worrying about everything.

He returned with too much food, then went back to bring them two carafes of wine. While he talked, she ate a great deal, drank even more, and listened in silence. It was wonderful; he didn't expect her to say anything, only to follow his little gestures so that she knew which people he was talking about.

"That's one of them," Conner said softly with his mouth close to her ear—though there was so much noise in the room now that he could have shouted. "He's a descendant of the original Saturn team. His name is Ignatz Dahlquist, and his great-uncle was anengineer on the
Marklake.
" He was indicating a pale, thin-faced man in his early twenties. "He's talking to another one, Lenny Costas. A relative of Luke Costas, the
Marklake
's chief engineer. And see her?"

Lola followed his gesture and found herself looking at a small, dark-haired woman about forty years old, with delicate features and a slim, elegant body.

"She's beautiful. I wish I looked like that." The wine was getting to her; she could feel its warmth in her belly.

"You look a lot better than that, Lola Belman. But don't distract me. That's Alicia Rios. One of her aunts was on the first expedition."

A cat may look at a king. But it seemed to Lola that Alicia Rios was staring right back at her, showing more than casual interest. In fact, the woman began walking toward them. She slowed as she came up to their table and looked down. Lola, seated, found herself gazing up into cool, dark eyes. For a long silent moment it seemed as though Alicia Rios were going to speak; then she nodded and moved on past.

"There." Conner Preston was grinning in satisfaction. "Your presence has been noted by the biggest top dog here tonight, and you didn't get kicked out the way you thought you would. Alicia Rios's aunt was Athene Rios, second in command on the
Marklake
and reporting only to Jason Cayuga himself."

Lola remembered those names from long-ago lessons back on Earth. "Doesn't Cayuga have any descendants? Everyone else seems to."

"He does. Jeffrey Cayuga is related to Jason Cayuga. Jeffrey doesn't live on Ganymede, but I feel sure he would have been here tonight anyway, except that he's away on another trip to the Saturn system. I lose count, I don't know if it's the sixth or the seventh one. A lot of the family members have remained involved with Saturn system exploration and development."

Lola saw that once again Alicia Rios was staring at them. She was relieved when someone else whom Conner Preston had already pointed out to her—Lenny Costas, was it?—walked over to Rios and diverted her attention. He was a slow-moving man with grey hair and a granular, pitted face, and he was frowning and shaking that big grey head at Alicia Rios. For a moment both of them glanced in Lola's direction; then, rather to her relief, they turned away.

"I told you." Conner Preston had noticed what was happening. "Even if they realize that you're not one of the regular media crowd—they see the same faces over and over again—they don't care who you are. Relax. You'd get thrown out if you started a fight, but not otherwise."

She didn't need his advice. He didn't realize it, but even if she did get thrown out she wouldn't much care. She had enjoyed enormously the food, drink, and conversation that she had been craving earlier in the evening. She was feeling better than she had felt in months.

In fact, if anyone were going to be thrown out there were better candidates than Lola. She was not the only one drinking, and the party was warming up. The conversations at the tables on either side were becoming louder and more argumentative. A fat woman bursting out of her skin and a tight purple dress was holding forth in a penetrating nasal voice that was impossible to ignore.

"Of course, the first Saturn expedition started out from Earth," she said. "But only because it had to. In those days people on Earth thought they owned everything. We would never agree to that sort of thing now. You notice that as soon as we could break free of Earth oppression, the later Saturn expeditions all started from Ganymede."

"What's she talking about?" Lola hissed at Conner Preston. "Earth oppression? That's total nonsense. Forty years ago an expedition
had
to start from Earth—nowhere else had the resources to support one. Even Mars was barely self-sufficient."

"Do you think she knows any history—or would care if she did? What she's saying is in fashion at the moment." Conner nodded toward the next table. "See?—the rest of them agree with her."

"If you ask me," the woman was continuing, "the war was a blessing in disguise. It moved the center of power of the solar system from Earth out here to Jupiter, where it rightfully belongs, and at the same time it solved Earth's population problem. Earth was monstrously overpopulated before the war, you know. I don't know why the Inner System would never admit it, but it's quite obvious."

"Conner." Lola gripped his arm and started to stand up. "I can't believe this. That idiot is talking about the war as if it was a
good thing.
Doesn't she realize that it killed nine billion people? Nine billion!"

"I know." Conner Preston rose with Lola and took hold of her hand and arm. He began to move her firmly away from the other table. "Ignore her. When you have someone as stupid as that, does it matter what she knows or says? She never had an original thought in her life. All she's doing is mouthing popular Ganymede opinion. Not many people will come right out and say it, but a lot of them are thinking it. Earth bashing is in. Anyway, I think it's time we were going. You've seen everyone worth seeing, and from this point on the party will just run downhill."

"She shouldn't be allowed to talk like that!" But Lola allowed him to steer her toward the exit. She didn't want to hear more stupid talk. "Where are we going now?"