The Long View, page 25
part #2 of The Long View Series
"So how-?" Then Rissa nodded. "Oh, sure--once we had spaceships, that crap stopped."
Zavole nodded. "You're right. So you see-UET-it's used its power to control population, to extend Welfare and avoid worse things."
Tregare said, "Sure. I see it."
"Then you agree we were right?"
"Were, maybe-at one stage. Not now, though. You've got it under control. So what's your excuse for keeping seventy percent of the human race-except the part you don't own yet-penned up like animals?"
Fringe Ears spoke. "Because they are animals. You should see the ones I use for entertainment at my parties. They-"
197
Tregare's voice rose. "That's enough. But thanks, whatever you are-you just put this discussion back on track. In perspective, sort of. Because we're done talking about what happened, and why. We're down to what happens next."
Zavole said, "If you don't mind, my first interest is what happens to us."
Tregare started to answer, but Rissa cut in. "Gotta remember, Tregare-so you don't like how we been runnin' things. But we been goin' by rules that was already set up. Don't we get no points for that?"
Tregare nodded. "Some-but not a lot. All right-here it is. You stay alive-unless you try to act against me. Your power's gone-it was gone when Rissa's brother blew up Newhausen's command ship, you just didn't know it for a while-and most of your wealth, with it. The only question is, how will you live? And the answer, for each of you, is anywhere from moderately comfortable to Welfare, depending on how well you cooperate with me."
Zavole cleared his throat. "You want us to work for you?"
"You got any objections? Take 'em along to Welfare and be damned to you. Yes-I want your help, and your recommendations of who's capable and who's not, under you. Don't get any bright ideas-you'll be answering my questions under truth field."
Fringe Ears smirked; on a guess, Rissa said, "Tregare-if I gotta work with these freaks, how about you get 'em a little bit undecorated first? Makes me wanna puke, some of it." Fringe Ears's face twisted, snarling. I got it right! That head hardware fucks up the field!
Tregare nodded. "You have a point, Metrokin. This-this weird flimflam gets in my way, too. Takes my mind off the job too much."
The Dairy Queen's ring-pierced hands tried to cover her outsized breasts. "You-you wouldn't-"
Tregare laughed. "You said it was a gland treatment. We'll just see what happens when it's stopped." He waved her to silence. "Now-I'm setting up teams to work with each of you, get information and check it. But for now, back to quarters while I line up surgery to untrim your Christmas trees." He stood. "You come with me, Metrokin-you're going to sign some papers before you get your lunch."
198
in Tregare's office Rissa spoke little. Don't like bein' Metrokin! Tregare said, "I wish you'd say something, not just nod or shake your head. Anything wrong?"
She restrained the automatic headshake. "Don't like talkin', this one." She put her hands to her face, shut her eyes. Mentally she pushed Cele Metrokin away, saw the fat woman close a door behind her. She said, "Bran-this once and not again, while we need this identity, I speak as myself. It is too difficult-a poor choice, perhaps, but I did not foresee that-I cannot change in and out of Metrokin without great effort, and it strains me to hold the identity at all. So ask your questions. Quickly."
"All right-but look at me."
"No. For I-I-would see you seeing Cele Metrokin. And that would-no, Bran."
Between her hand and the wig his fingers found her ear and stroked it. "Okay. But tell me-do we have them moving? On the verge of stampede, the way we want?"
"I ... think so." Eyes still covered, she tipped her face up to him. "And when they are stripped of their flesh-piercing ornaments and have only scars to show for them-I cannot, even now, look at that fringe-eared woman's nose, with its nostril flaps cut free and spread like gemmed wings; could not some semblance of normal appearance be restored? But when their pretentious mutilations are stripped of whatever glamour they see in them, perhaps they will become more rational persons. How soon can these changes be accomplished?"
"Not sure. The man who did most of the work is prematurely senile-overdosed on some kind of mindblaster. Two of his assistants are on their way-be here this afternoon. The one I talked to, she doesn't think it's much of a chore- only eight people, after all, and mostly work above the neck. But the tattooing-either we leave it alone, cover it with a solid darker color, or take chances peeling it off in one of several ways-all chancy. You have any preference?"
"Oh, let them keep their foolish colorings, if they like. But the woman who emulates a herd of milk cows-she must cover herself."
"That one bothers you?"
"She ridicules all women-renders a useful, natural function ludicrous-as though her vulva reached to the navel and her labia to the knees. I-despise her."
199
"She'll cover up; I'll see to it. Now-anything else?"
"Yes. Bran-I will stay in the Metrokin identity as long as it is needed, but I hate the role. I had not realized-but that is not important. What 1 would say is-let us use this creature I must be, use her quickly and be done with her. Find a reason why she is no longer available, is not needed-so that 1 can be free of her."
For a time he was silent. Then he said, "When we don't need her-soon as we can manage that-I catch Metrokin crossing me and 1 lock her up, solitary, is all."
"When the time comes, Bran, make the betrayal seem most convincing. And until then I will not speak again, as Rissa."
Now in her mind it was Rissa Kerguelen who went behind a closed door. Another opened and Cele Metrokin appeared. After a pause, she opened her eyes, looked up and said, "Awright, Tregare. Stick me back in the pokey and be damned to you."
"But-you don't have to stay there-"
"Hell I don't. Can't hack it, this one, the back 'n' forth."
She saw his puzzlement. Then he said, "Yeah. 3 see what you mean."
the next day, Rissa met with Tregare and Biels Doming, only. "The rest," said Tregare, "they're either waiting surgery, having it or resting from it. And for now I don't need 'em, anyway. Doming-you explain to me the orders you've been getting, the past few years, from Metrokin and Obrigo. And how well you've followed them."
"But-hasn't she said-?"
"I want your version. Crosschecking."
Doming spoke at length. As Rissa had suspected, the orders were simple enough-try to extend control and don't rock the boat. Only the details would be complex, and for the moment Tregare waved those aside. "And almost every year," said Doming, "we've advanced our holdings a percentage point or two, even now that we're meeting more resistance."
Tregare said, "No orders to change policies-is that right?"
"When you control most of a world," said Doming, "you don't tamper with the methods that gained you that control."
"I'd have hoped different," Tregare said. "Like maybe, that making changes was the object of getting control."
200
Rissa gave him a warning glance. "What's to change? All set up-you turn the crank, it works. You-you're gonna fuck around with things, make a real puke pile."
"I'll take the chance. Doming, you get me a full readout- this afternoon-of all major Metrokin-Obrigo operations since the coalition began."
"In detail? But that would take weeks."
"In summary-with coding for access to whatever details I might want."
The lone guard took Doming away. Rissa said, "What else you beendoin'?"
Tregare looked at her, then nodded. "All right, if you have to do it that way. Metrokin-a ship of mine, it's spotted a certain scoutship and figures to have the contents here in maybe two weeks." He waited for her nod. "The Academy's shaking down fine, and the port's doing well, too. Upstairs a man named Kybel's doing a good job helping my representative start releasing folks from Welfare-a slow start, but solid. No word from a certain Establishment you know of, and not much more from Australia. Suit you, mostly?"
"You been plenty busy, I guess. Awright-you're through here, I wanna go lie down awhile."
He leaned forward. "You're feeling all right?"
In her cumbersome way, she stood. "Water pill don't help my gut any. What the hell-don't need it no more, is what I think."
Tregare took her to Cele Metrokin's quarters. For a time she rested. Then-before and after her solitary dinner-she worked at a portable computer terminal, screened so as not to be visible from the doorway if a guard or attendant came. Gradually the drug-induced malaise left her; by late evening she was ready to sleep, and slept well.
Two days more of Cele Metrokin, meeting with the Committee members and Doming and Tregare. She testified under a carefully maladjusted truth field; she watched others speak, and listened, while the field worked properly.
Denuded of their grotesque finery, the eight were much subdued. Where gems and rings had glittered were now only pierced holes or small, healing wounds. Fringe Ears still merited that appellation, but her nose was bandaged; a strip of
201
tape lay flat from nape to eyebrows where Scar Ridge had worn his hideous crest. Ordinary white teeth-dentures?-appeared instead of gems in another woman's mouth. Under the Dairy Queen's robe the swollen mammaries might or might not have begun to diminish; Rissa could not tell by looking.
Late that second afternoon she made her decision. Tregare had left the room briefly; when he returned she made the sign they had agreed on and he strode to face her.
"All right, Metrokin-you've had it!"
"Huh? What's itchin' you, Tregare?"
Hard, convincingly, he cuffed her head; she moved only enough to take the sting away. "I don't know how you got to the man-but it won't happen again! He's locked up and you're next. Not here anymore-in the brig on Inconnu. You-"
"What you bitchin' about? All I done-"
"All you did was get two coded messages out, maybe more. My comm people unscrambled one of them. It's enough to Welfare you, at the least-after I'm done taking your head apart."
She spat in his face-or tried to-he dodged and grabbed a hand, pulling her upright. He twisted the arm behind her and marched her to the door. "Guards-salt these others down as usual, for now. I'll deal with them tomorrow."
back on Inconnu in their own quarters, Tregare watched as Rissa carefully divested herself of Cele Metrokin. Wig, clothing, appliques, inserts, gold teeth-all of it she returned to its original containers. She showered and dried herself. Naked, she shook her hair down and loose, and looked in a mirror. Only then did she speak.
"There is still a little bloating, from the drug. Not much-it should be gone by tomorrow or next day."
"You look fine," said Tregare. "What made you decide, today-?"
She sat on his lap, arms around his neck. "We will talk later. First you must come to bed for a time, and convince me that I am restored to myself."
Tregare laughed. "That's the best idea I've heard all day!"
202
still unclothed, Rissa sat and sipped wine. "So, basically," she told Tregare, "I felt I had learned all that would be worthwhile from them, that required . . . that identity. And I had made my evaluations.''
"Fine-let's hear them."
"Doming is an instrument; he will work as well for us as he has done for Lena Hulzein-and he is not vicious. Neither is Zavole-a capable man competing, as he told me once, in the only available competition fitting a man of his caliber. He is also the only Committee member who has cooperated fully enough, in my opinion, to earn him any special leniency or privileges."
She made a sour face. "The others-Maita Pangreen, and cannot something be done about those revolting ears?-she is the most total sadist I have ever known; she makes Stagon dal Nardo look like a playful kitten. Things she said when you were not present, of what she had done to Welfare Clients in 'entertainment' at her parties-it was all I could do, Bran, to keep from ending her life out of hand. Scar Ridge-Eloysin, is it?-he is nearly as bad. And the Tattooed Wonder, and the Dairy Queen-and to some extent the woman who wore jewels for teeth. The other two-they seem merely callous, heedless, unthinking-abusing power more by accident than purpose. Worse than Albert Kybel, but not truly monsters."
"You're getting more tolerant," said Tregare. "Kybel got your blood up pretty good, I remember."
"I do not tolerate such attitudes. And the two 1 mention should be Welfared with the rest, if that is what you decide for the group. Simply, it is that I have now seen much worse than Kybel. But at any rate-with all of them, I think there is no more to be learned by subterfuge."
"Right-we know how their operation works and don't need them to help us work it. Any reason not to Welfare the whole lot-except Doming and Zavole-and be done with it?"
She shook her head. "You cannot put those, as they are, into a Welfare Center-unless you intend they die that same day. They have preened their strange appearances before Tri-V cameras; they are known-and hated."
"Do you care whether they live or die? "
"Tregare-if we are to kill, let us do so deliberately and
203
responsibly, with due grief if need be. Let us not fling them to a mob and turn away."
He stood and began to dress. "I wasn't planning to, actually. I figured to stick the seven of them into an ex-condominium unit, all by themselves-nobody sees them except people who know how to follow orders-and let them stew in their own sauce." His brows raised. "Any objections?"
A moment, then, she thought. "No. In fact, Bran-I rather like it."
"Good. You want to eat here in your skin, or dress and visit the galley?"
"I will dress."
deverel joined them at dinner. After greetings, Tregare said, "Any new word, Hain?"
"Yes, skipper-something from the Hulzein group, I think. At least it came over a feedline you thought might be theirs." Deverel filled his plate and seasoned the food to his taste. "Pretty badly hashed; Control's still working on the decoding. But the first and last of it's fairly clear."
"Yeah? Any real information, so far?"
"They know you as Bran Tregare Moray, for one thing. And the last part, if we have it right, reads like a command."
"Command? Hell-what did it say?"
"Something like-'you will await our further instructions, and be prepared to follow them at once.' "
Tregare laughed. "Yeah? I guess the decoding must be off a little bit."
Rissa touched his hand. "From Lena Hulzein? Do not be too sure."
playing Cele Metrokin, thought Rissa, she had left her own work too long. Next morning she went to Control, and found Albert Kybel there before her. He looked better-still awkward in the Welfare jumpsuit, ears still protruding under the cropped hair-but his face was relaxed and he moved more easily.
"Good morning, Kybel. Have you completed the work I set you?"
204
When he .looked at her, his gaze was direct, "Yes, Ms. Kerguelen. And I added some other material I thought you might want. When that was done I reported to Tregare as you told me to, and have handled his assignments also."
Was it time yet, she wondered? "You seem to have adjusted well, to your new status."
Kybei shrugged. "What else could I do? Kill myself? I thought of it, at first. But then-if millions can go through this and live, so can I. And at least I'm still doing important work-work I'm trained for-not cleaning sewers."
She looked at the stack of reports he had left for her. "This is more than I expected in so short a time."
"I worked overtime. Aiela-Ms. Lindstrom-gave me permission." One side of his mouth smiled. "I like it better here-working-than at the Welfare Center. Even if I do miss an occasional meal."
She paused. "And how do you feel now, about Aiela's having been Welfared?"
"If I'd known what I know now, I'd have fought it. She didn't deserve that." He shrugged. "But we always learn too late, don't we? At least, I did."
It is lime. "Perhaps not-though at first I was uncertain of you." Seeing his eyes widen, she said, "You will not have all that you did have, because the excess is needed for others. But your quarters and personal possessions have been held intact for you, and your adjusted salary equivalent approximates the average of what you used, of your former quotas. Will this satisfy you, Albert Kybel?"
The man shuddered; one hand braced against a desk so that he did not fall. "Satisfy me?" Violently he shook his head. "You take me out of Hell and ask me if I'm satisfied?" And now he could smile. "You could keep everything I had and pay me just enough to live, and I'd thank you-so long as you took me out of Welfare!" His face showed puzzlement. "But- why?"
