Behold a Dark Mirror Page 13

  Seeo Tissa D'Souza dropped his paperwork and walked towards the nugget. On his way, he smiled at the woman sitting on the couch.

  "My beloved pussycat," he said, "your Captain Roxi thought he ran into a radio broadcast deserving my attention."

  "Yes, I heard the recording; he picked it up after your last visit. It's a rambling message, some stuff about the Tower and ConSEnt and government. It's long. Oh, dear, and so boring. Tissa dear, I'm withering in this deep-space prison!" She sighed, heaving her ripe chest. "When will you let me out?"

  "Any time you wish. But I'd rather you stay." Tissa winked at her.

  "Oh, you know I'll stay as long as you ask me. But I'm so bored."

  "You have the finest means to entertain yourself that anyone could wish for, darling. What's wrong?" Seeo D'Souza stopped at the bar and poured himself a stiff drink.

  "Tissa dear, it's the crowd I miss, the parties, conversation, all the beautiful people. This ship is lonely."

  "You knew from the beginning, even from before all this started, that publicity is the one thing I can't pamper you with. Our relationship is illegitimate, which is inadmissible for a man in my position." He sipped his liquor.

  "I know, I know, but why here in the middle of nowhere? Why can't you keep me planet-side somewhere?"

  "Because here Regalia is a needle in a haystack, and your loose tongue is much easier to love." He smiled, knowing rightly she'd interpret the double meaning as a compliment.

  She pleaded: "You won't let me out even for a bit?"

  "No, no, no. Anytime I teleframe to Regalia I want to know you'll be here for me." He smiled in silence, looking straight into her eyes to sweeten his message without understating it. He picked up the nugget and dropped it into the player. A synthetic voice started:

  "This is an automatic broadcast from beacon WWF 104-22-3582 repeated in an infinite loop. This identification header is not part of the message. Now hear this."

  The voice changed to that of a woman:

  "To all who receive this transmission: The following information was obtained through our intelligence network. We have decided to make it public for the benefit of mankind at large. This is a true record: The original document scanned into this beacon is available to attest to the veracity of our claim. You are invited to divulge this information in any manner you can think of. By doing so, however, you may put yourself at risk; many lives were lost to give you this broadcast. Use it wisely."

  The voice became synthetic:

  "Power Sharing was created to reestablish the trust of the public in government. After democracy failed to deliver..."

  "I told you this was a rambling, boring broadcast."

  "Sh!" Seeo D'Souza said.

  *

  A few minutes—hours, days?—later, at the end of the recording, Seeo Tissa D'Souza hailed captain Roxi via intercom.

  "Yes, Seeo sir?"

  "When did you receive this?"

  "We're still receiving it, Seeo sir."

  Tissa cursed silently—wrong question. "When did you start receiving it?"

  "Four days ago, here, let me check, yes, forty-five hours and, uh, twenty-some minutes ago, sir."

  "Where's it coming from?"

  "The beacon ID is that of the quarantine beacon for Doka. It's an abandoned mining planet. You may remember, they had an old joke about some strange disease. Nothing came of it, but that's the beacon they installed for quarantine warning."

  "Doka, you say."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Is that place still dangerous?"

  "To my knowledge it never was, sir."

  "How far is it?"

  "From where, sir?"

  "From Regalia."

  "That'll take a few seconds, sir." Muffled voices. "Yes, how far. Here, two light-days, uh, give or take a few hours."

  "Captain Roxi, do you know if there is anything else within three light-weeks from Doka?"

  "Seeo sir, besides Regalia, I know there is an automatic relay station on record—a position buoy."

  "Thanks, Captain Roxi. Your answer means that nobody has picked up that broadcast yet. Is that so?"

  "Possibly, sir, unless there is another ship nearby."

  "Is there?"

  "I have no way of knowing, sir. We are traveling blind and silent per your instructions, sir. Do you want me to find out?"

  "For heaven's sake no. Good job, Roxi. You and your crew will be rewarded for your discernment."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Last thing, Roxi. Is there any way to get to Doka?"

  "I imagine you mean by teleportation, sir."

  "Yes of course."

  "According to the facilities directory there is a way station on the planet, but it's sleeping. The mailer is active. The planet is 4-K-delta, sir."

  "Help me remember, Roxi: 4-K-delta?"

  "Of course, sir: a broken ecosystem. Doka supports human life with little help, but nobody would want to live there, sir."

  "Any idea why the mailer is active?"

  "I bet there's a skeleton crew for maintenance on a one-year duty. Good paying job, sir, if you don't mind solitude."

  "Ah. Thought of applying, Roxi?"

  "Nossir, I like my left chair on Regalia, sir. And the fringe benefits, too." The intercom transmitted a collective laughter from the bridge detail.

  "I like your attitude, Roxi. Keep up the good work. Over."

  Seeo Tissa D'Souza smiled his most mischievous smile. "My dear," he addressed the woman, "Your boring recording is an explosive document, if it's as authentic as it claims to be."

  "Why so?" she said, polishing her nails.

  "Because it declares that the Tower, custodian of all laws, is breaking too many of them. And ConSEnt is its accomplice." D'Souza was pacing the salon with a deliberate, slow rhythm, his hands clasped behind his back. "Both are guilty: one by action, the other by lack of reaction."

  "So what?"

  "I'm not sure. Given the primacy of the organizations involved, I'm not sure prosecution would take place. But publication might trigger violence—even end society as we know it."

  "You think there might be a revolution?"

  He turned to look at her. "Revolution? Oh, no, nothing of that sort. ConSEnt may decide to take on the Tower and make legal what seems to be practice already. Only, ConSEnt would then stretch its fingers much further than the Shipping Act allows."

  "You mean ConSEnt would merge with the Tower?"

  Merge, to Tissa D'Souza, sounded out of context on her lips, which were better suited for beautiful conversation and red lipstick, but he obliged. "Not exactly," he said. "The Tower is a corporation, but its shareholders are other corporations and the Guilds. If ConSEnt merges with the Tower, ConSEnt acquires an interest in all other corporate businesses, and in the Guilds, at the same time keeping its own corporate identity."

  "So what, dear?"

  "ConSEnt would then share the Tower's privileges. I cannot conceive of allowing the Tower-ConSEnt entity to guard the law: too much conflict of interest. ConSEnt is wrecking the foundation of Power Sharing." D'Souza resumed pacing. "ConSEnt is not only breaking the law, it is also making laws—an unimaginable threat for the establishment."

  "That bad," she said.

  "The Tower is corrupt, but it can't compromise that badly its function of referee for the business community. If it did, that would void the Charter. What credibility or trust would be left for Power Sharing? What has PS left to lose afterwards? This could be the beginning of the end for the Tower and all it represents!"

  She stopped polishing her nails to pay full attention. "Explain to me how, Tissa dear. You make it all sound so much more interesting."

  Ah! If he were able to resist his own vanit
y; and how well she played it—what a good mistress she was. Tissa continued, encouraged by the sound of his own voice. "When the government makes a law, the law is obeyed because it represents the will of the Consensus—that is, its board of directors, which in turn represents the interest of all shareholders."

  "That would be you and all the other Chief Executive Officers!" she said and smiled, showing perfect teeth.

  He walked toward her. "Exactly, my dear; you understand very well. And remember the Guilds, too, of course. The procedure is complex, but you captured the spirit. Now imagine that the Consensus represents one particular business, ConSEnt in this case, in a disproportionate manner."

  "Then the Consensus is not a consensus any more."

  "Brava! So, the expectation of fairness in the rule of the Consensus fails. The foundation of Power Sharing is shattered. We'd become a disorderly community, dear."

  "A revolution, after all."

  Tissa sat next to her on the couch, patting her thigh high up. She moved to accommodate him. He said, "Well, revolutions are attributed to the individuals who fight in them. This one may be fought by corporations, rather than by individuals. Given that, of course, ConSEnt will try to take over the Tower."

  "Of course."

  "But why would they?" Tissa said, his hand lingering on her thigh. Her breath was fresh, minty. "ConSEnt knows it'll never work."

  "I don't know why they would, Tissa dear. I don't."

  Tissa did not doubt that statement. "So what else could happen?" he mumbled.

  "What could, dear?"

  "Even if ConSEnt does nothing, the Tower is shaky. We've been thinking of reforms. This would be like a mercy killing, yet it would create a power vacuum: That's dangerous. ConSEnt is in a position to dictate terms, if Power Sharing shuts down. ConSEnt is powerful and may try to become our next government, trouncing the Tower altogether. That would work."

  "Indeed, it would. Brilliant, Tissa dear!"

  "Thanks. And you know what? There's no way to stop it."

  "Stop what, darling?"

  "Avoid forcing ConSEnt's hand by exposing this game."

  "Why can't we?"

  "Because the morons that started this broadcast have been on the air for too long. In a few months, maybe a year, someone will pick up the broadcast and all hell will break loose."

  "Really?"

  "Really, yes. I wonder what they want from this, what they have in mind."

  She whispered in his ear, "The general benefit of mankind at large, the recording said."

  The whisper tickled Tissa; fighting the urge to flinch he said, "I can't figure out how chaos will benefit mankind at large, and there will be plenty of it."

  "I'm sure there will be."

  He turned to face her, held her hands. "There are two things I must do. The first is to find out if the information is true, as the beacon claims. The second is to figure out how the law firm of Hades and Company can take advantage from knowing all this a few months in advance. After all, I am its Seeo."

  "Well said, Tissa dear. You are the one in charge." She caressed his cheek; he responded with a provocative peck.

  "You know what?"

  "What, Tissa dear?"

  "Maybe your confinement will be broken for a while. I think Regalia is going planetside."

  "Yes? How exciting! Where are you taking me?"

  "To Doka, darling."

  CHAPTER 15

  As Jenus's cautious inquiry revealed, emigration on a no-questions-asked basis was indeed a means of leaving your past behind. And then, there was Hawwa.

  He left his hotel room for the last time and walked to Wayford Park. He took his electrogun, making sure its bulge under the coat was conspicuous. It took him a while to find Hawwa's ruins. The door was locked; knocking didn't help. He sat on a pile of rubble and waited.

  Three adult women guarding a flock of children came in sight in the distance. The women sat, and the children played some sort of game. One of the women noticed Jenus and pointed him out to the other two. One stood up and made her way towards him. Closing in, she raised her arms and yelled to Jenus.

  "I'm Julia, I'm a vestal seeking refuge. That," she pointed to her friends and the children, "is my temple." She stopped, as if waiting for a reply, her hands held high. Jenus didn't have a clue what that meant or she wanted.

  The woman appeared puzzled, but Jenus was too far away to know for sure. She said, "May I come closer?"

  Jenus reckoned she was no harm. "Sure," he yelled back. She came in and stopped a few feet away from him.

  "Hello, stranger. I don't know you," Julia began. She wore a straight white gown, and a loose cape striped in green and purple draped across her shoulders.

  "No, you don't," agreed Jenus.

  "Can I help you?"

  "Like what?"

  Julia looked confused, as if he had missed something obvious. "I am a vestal," she repeated.

  "You already said that."

  "And you told me to come closer."

  "Indeed."

  "This is me. That is my temple. Girls... And boys."

  "So what?"

  "Well..." she said. "I can arrange anything."

  "Anything what?"

  Hawwa appeared around the corner. Jenus noticed her; she saw Julia, and drew her hand to her mouth. Then, Hawwa took a short step as if to proceed to her door, but stopped as if to leave. Julia looked at her.

  Jenus called, "Hey, Hawwa!"

  Julia looked at him as if he had committed a serious breach of protocol.

  "I see you are not serious," Julia said. "For this once I won't report," she added, turned around and left.

  Jenus stood up and scratched his head, watching Julia walk away, then looking at Hawwa, who was holding her breath, her cheeks flushed with anger despite her olive skin tone. What had he done now?

  "Hawwa!" He walked towards her. She stood, petrified.

  "Jenus, I see I must have made a mistake. You are not welcome any more," she said with a sharp, bitter edge in her voice. She headed for her door, her neck stiff, her gestures mechanical.

  "Wait! What's going on? Hawwa, stop, please, tell me: What is a Vestal?"

  "The person you just talked to. What do you think you're doing talking to me now?" she said, with a catty I-am-not-one-of-that-kind look. Jenus could imagine her arching her back and hissing; not anxious to feel her fangs, he kept his distance.

  "For heaven sake, what's going on?"

  Hawwa stopped and looked at him, squinting, her head sideways: "How long have you been around Wayford Park?"

  "All of two days."

  "You don't know what a Vestal is? Tell me the truth!"

  "Not a clue, I swear!"

  Hawwa looked at him. "You're amazing. I guess one of these days you'll tell me where you're from."

  "So, what's a Vestal?"

  "Come along," she said, "I'm choosing to believe you against my better judgment."

  He followed her through the door, down the stairs.

  "Here, sit down," Hawwa said, pointing at the bare concrete floor. She disappeared behind the next door, locking it behind her, then reappeared with a cup of salty soup, which she offered to Jenus. She sat next to him, a bit too close.

  "You swear you really don't know what a Vestal is?"

  Jenus's neck sunk within his shoulders, head shaking, hands gesturing ignorance. "Cross my heart," he said.

  "Well, when a girl gets in trouble—you know, she fools around and gets pregnant, that kind of stuff, then she can do a few things. She can kill the baby, like have an abortion. But few do it. Many carry to term and sell the child; with the money they make they usually get by till the next baby comes around." She looked at him, then continued: "Unless t
he baby is lame, 'cause none would buy a lame child. Then they have to..." She stared into the facing blank wall, pausing for an instant before going on. "Of course, sometimes the father settles in, but that's rare. Even so, the girl is alone again in a few years more often than not. They—these girls, I mean—can tough it out alone, or can join a temple and become Vestals."

  Hawwa looked at Jenus.

  "So?" Jenus asked.

  "So what?"

  "What is a temple? What do Vestals do?"

  She looked at him, puzzled. "A temple is a... A family," she explained, and stopped. "Well, that's a bad word for it, I mean, just some adult women living together with all their children and maybe some stray ones, too. They sell their children and themselves to carry on, and raise those that remain until they're old enough to mind for themselves."

  "So Julia was..."

  Hawwa waited.

  Jenus continued: "She was peddling her sex."

  "Yes," Hawwa assented. "Maybe. Or one or more of the children in her temple. But you're right, you didn't look like you wanted a... You don't, do you?"

  "No," he reassured her. Whatever she was thinking, that wasn't Jenus's habit. "I understand why you were upset."

  The boy at The Clearing, Jenus thought.

  She nodded her approval: "Child buyers are worse than the sellers. Sometimes the reasons are OK."

  "What did she say that she wouldn't report?" Jenus said.

  "Temples are like... They're organized, pay tributes, have a security system. Life is hard around here, Jenus. Temples can make a good living, and they guard their business."

  "Did I make trouble for you?"

  She shook her head. "I don't think so. Next time don't let them near, though. Any Vestals, I mean."