The Long View, page 26
part #2 of The Long View Series
"Why Welfare you-or why release you?" She waved further questions away. "Both answers are the same. You are a capable man but were blind to what you were doing. Now I think you have learned why it is important to release from Welfare as many as possible, as soon as can be done. Am I right?"
He only nodded, and she said, "Then at the end of this day
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you will be returned to your personal quarters. You may punch the transfer data into the terminal now, if you like, and I will add the authorizing code.''
When this was done, he said, "The woman I'm working for-the one in charge of the release program. Is she really-I mean, no offense, but what's a Hulzein doing in Tregare's crew?"
She smiled. "Tregare values his mother's judgment." Kybel's mouth opened but he said nothing. "Well-if you have not met formally, tomorrow I will introduce you to Liesel Hulzein."
As she left, he gestured good-bye, but still did not speak.
in Tregare's Headquarters office Rissa did not expect the crowd she encountered. Quietly, with a touch here, a word there, she worked through it to Tregare's desk and saw him preparing to activate Tri-V broadcast. "Bran-what is happening?"
He looked up. "Riot in a Welfare Center, Rissa. Rumblings of more on the way. I have to talk to them again, ready or not-I've put it off too long." Indicator lamps lit. He said, "Anything you think I'm missing, tap my shoulder and I'll shut up and let you talk. Okay? Well, the circuit's live, so here goes." He threw the final switch.
One deep breath he took. Then; "Tregare speaking, to everyone I can reach-and especially in the Welfare Centers. D Center-if you're getting tired of breaking up the fixtures, it might pay to stop and listen for a minute. If you don't, you're just hurting yourselves. I don't know what kicked off the riot in D, but nobody's going to get punished for starting it. No Client, I mean."
He looked to Rissa. She said, "Explain as if they had heard none of it before."
He winked at her, turned to the screen. "If you missed it the first time, UET's out of power-the Presiding Committee's locked up. My people are in charge, and our idea is to get folks out of Welfare-free citizens again-as fast as we can. But not all at once-we don't have the manpower and there's no place to put everybody, on the outside. So you'll have to be patient."
Rissa touched his shoulder; he leaned aside and she faced
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my plate's not cold." Between bites, bespoke "Ilse-she'll do now. Total physical damage, we don't know for sure. Scabs peeling around the edges-so far it's all skin, not scar tissue, and stubble growing from the scalp parts. No way to know yet-how much scarring there'll be in the middle of it, besides the deep slash. But she'll manage now, I think."
"That's good," said Liesel. "She's tough, Ilse is. But how do you know for sure?"
Ivan said, "She hit a bad slump. Doctor'd been talking to her, suggesting an electronic bug and a transducer to the left-hand auditory nerve, to give some directional hearing. I thought the idea would help her, but after he left she began saying she'd be better off dead. So I-it sounds funny, I guess-"
"Ivan." Rissa pointed a finger. "Working to save the will to live is not humorous. What did you do?"
"Oh, sure. Well, I talked rough to her-told her I wanted her to hear something, and to shut up until she did hear it."
"Yes?"
"So I played her the whole battle-the tapes from when she took the squadron in, through the hit we took and the turnaround after, then the part where she told me how to take Newhausen, how I blew him to rubble and all the way to when she passed out."
Rissa nodded. "You reassured Ilse of her competence, by objective evidence."
"That's right. Playing by ear and hoping I knew what I was doing."
Hawkman smiled. "I'd guess you knew, all right. And what happened?"
"What would you think?" said Ivan Marchant. "For the first time since we caught the hit, she took me to bed-and I thought she'd never stop." He grinned. "Not that I'm complaining, you understand."
"You had better not, my brother..."
not until next morning, after Rissa had introduced Kybel to Liesel Hulzein, did she and Ivan leave for Welfare Center D. Tregare said, "You sure you don't want some troops along-some guns?" "No," said Rissa. "Hain and Anse will be in the scout-
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like old times, is it not? And no Welfare Center has means to defend against a scoutship. We shall have no great trouble, Bran-I am sure of it."
"If you say so. I hope you're right."
ivan landed the scout to one side of the designated area. "Just in case," he said. Deverel grinned, and made a circle of thumb and forefinger.
"If you come out in a hurry," he said, "stay close to the wall until I blink the staging lights. Then come running, on the high lope-and we go up fast."
"There will be no need," said Rissa. "But, Hain-I appreciate it, that you plan against what we do not expect." The man's smile rewarded her.
Ivan led the way off the scout, across pavement to the Center's guarded gates. The sentry said, "Who are you and what do you want?"
Ivan said, "If you don't know, you're relieved of duty. We're from Tregare."
The man lowered his weapon. "I'm sorry-we're nervous here. Go right on in."
Inside, guards and supervisors seemed civil enough but somehow obstructive. Finally Rissa said, "The man who spoke with Tregare yesterday-where is he?"
A tall woman said, "I'm not sure. It's said, he may have been taken sick."
Ivan moved to face her; she stepped backward and he followed. "That man had better be here, in good health, to talk with us-by five minutes, at the outside." The woman shrank back; he caught her shoulder. "Whatever shape he's in, you bring him here." He pushed her away. "If you want to live this day out, that is."
The woman fled the room; Ivan turned to Rissa. "You'd best talk to Deverel."
She did, ending with "-and should we need a demonstration, Hain, no Clients are housed in the penthouse. It should make a spectacular bit of demolition." She heard his chuckle and signed out, as the tall woman escorted a man into the room.
"Here's the one you want, I think."
Rissa looked at him-standing, wobbling, arms jerking to
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keep balance. Above the ragged stubble on his lean, pockmarked cheeks, his eyes bulged.
"You-did you talk to Tregare yesterday? And to me?"
From the corners of his mouth, saliva dribbled. "I-yes-herdy? Talk t'ya . . . yeah." He looked haggard; his head shook. "They-gimme shots-I-" He slumped; Ivan sat him into a chair.
No waiting now-two strides and Rissa gripped the woman's neck. Her other hand activated her short-haul voice link. "Hain? It is treachery. If we lose contact, have no mercy on the executive section-but spare the Client dormitories," She heard and acknowledged his answer, then said, "Ivan?"
From flared nostrils his breath snorted. "Rissa? We start right now, we can shoot us out of this trap. Here to the gate, they don't have that many-"
The talI woman snarled, "You don't have a chance out of here."
"Wait." Rissa gripped harder, thumb against the larynx, fingers digging alongside the spine. Soft-speaking, she said, "You, woman! Would you die this next minute?"
"I-I-no, wait!"
"Do you have contact-can you influence those outside this room?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then speak, and quickly. Say that this place surrenders -all of it-or all of it dies. I accept that risk. Do you?"
"Oh, God-let me breathe!" Rissa eased her grip, but only slightly. The woman talked at her wristband. "They're crazy-we can't afford to try it-I'm giving up and you can take your own damned chances, Collering-well, the hell with you, tool" Gasping, turning back to Rissa, "I did the best I could!"
Rissa released .the neck and caught the wrist, shouted at it. "Collering-whoever you are! Surrender now and you live. That is all I promise." A pause. "Answer me!"
A voice came weakly from the wristband. "Collering wouldn't see reason; he can't answer because he just got his throat cut. Tilseng says he sees that scoutship out there and you won the argument. Hold the shooting and he'll be down to give you the keys to the place."
Rissa said, "Be sure Tilseng does it properly. Because Collering ran me rather short of patience."
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twelve armed men accompanied Tilseng's entrance. Exasperated, Rissa edged her voice. "You incredible fools! Now, listen." She called Deverel, "Main-very soon a dozen men will come out and leave their weapons on the ground, well outside the gate. If they do not, start blowing this place apart as I have indicated."
The armed men left, running. Now Rissa had time to look at Tilseng. The man made no impression-average in size, neutral in coloring, almost expressionless, he stood as though he were not present. Looking, Rissa said, "I think, Tilseng, that you are the ultimate product of UET's policies." "I beg pardon?"
"You need not; you owe none. But tell me-who are you?" "Tilseng. With Collering dead 1 speak here for the Committee."
"There is no Committee. Who are you, Tilseng?" "I-there'll be someone I can speak for. Won't there?" She shook her head. "No. Not until you can speak on your own behalf." To Ivan, she said, "This one is as Welfared as his Clients." And to the tall woman; "I want your name," "Paris Conichiel. But I cleared myself, didn't I?" "That is not the point." Rissa gestured toward the drugged man. "Can he be made fit to speak rationally-now? If not, find and bring me his deputy."
Conichiel shrugged. "These Underground connections? How would I know?"
Rissa grasped the woman's neck again; Conichiel tried to flinch away. "How you know is your problem, not mine. It is also your problem to obey my orders without wasting more of my time about it." She squeezed the neck, hard. "Do you understand?"
Paris Conichiel winced but did not move her head. "Yes. And I'm no good with pain-I never was. So you don't have to touch me again. I know how to find who you want and I'll handle it. Unless they get me again." Rissa said, "You are that pliable?" "They could hurt me right back onto their side again." "That won't happen," said Ivan Marchant. "I'll escort you-let's go."
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A few minutes later they returned; between them limped a young black man. "Here's the man we want," said Ivan. "His name's Brinton, and-"
"Garbatt!" Brinton moved to the seated man; with one hand he tipped up the lolling chin. He looked, then turned to Paris Conichiel. "What the hell you done to him?"
The woman flinched. "I didn't do anything. I think he's drugged, but-"
Rissa spoke. "Tilseng! have you no initiative? Get a medic here." The man scuttled out; Rissa said, "We will find out, Brinton, about your friend. When he was brought here he still could speak, though not weli."
The black man said, "That's Collering's pet trick-dope somebody up so he can't tell anything. I'd like to give him a few shots sometime."
"Collering is dead," said Rissa.
"You do it?"
"No. His own people did-when he refused to surrender to us."
"Whoever, it's a good thing. Now-what you want of me?"
She gestured toward Ivan. "He and I, we are here for Tregare."
"Yeah? Garbatt said somebody'd come. Me, I wasn't so sure." His eyes narrowed. "Just the two of you-no troops? Hell-where's your own guns? Besides those peashooters you got..."
"Outside," said Ivan. "Mounted on a scoutship."
Brinton whistled. "And Collering wanted to fight that? No wonder they had to wipe his slate." He shook his head. "Well, then-1 guess you want I should show you around, let you see the stuff they'd like to keep hid. Okay-let's go."
He turned, limping. Rissa said, "Your leg, Brinton-should not someone else guide us instead?"
"Naw-I got clubbed a little, is all. Prob'ly do it good to walk around more, loosen it up better."
As Rissa nodded and began to follow, Tilseng entered. Behind him came a woman carrying a leather bag. "You are the medic?" said Rissa. The woman nodded. "Then see what is wrong with that man-it appears he has been drugged-and try to have him in better condition when we return. His con-
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tinued good health is of paramount importance." "In fact," said Ivan, "your own rides with it."
they followed Brinton. Occasionally they passed empty-holstered guards, studiously ignoring weapons piled on the floor. As they came to a dormitory, Rissa turned to enter. The black man said, "Don't bother-this part, they'd show you anyway. Standard dorm-no cots, of course, but not even double-decked yet."
They passed a large room; on the floor sat men watching a reading-course presentation on Tri-V. The men were naked. Rissa asked, "Where are their jumpsuits?"
Brinton shrugged. "Economy move, three-four years ago. You don't need clothes in the Client sections, see? You go up to the offices, like me, now, or out to work-then you get a jumpsuit."
At the next dormitory entrance: "Here's one double-decked-you wanta see?" He opened the door; Rissa looked. A horizontal partition halved the room; beside the door a ramp reached the upper level. "A meter high, each deck-they say that's plenty. Just don't sit up fast if you're tall." She felt the rubbery floor and peered into the shallow levels. Except for dim lighting and a series of ventilator grilles, she saw only bareness.
She shook her head. "Let us go on." Again Brinton led.
Punishment cells-each a cubic meter with floors of metal grating-except through a slot in the door, no light entered. "They pass food trays in through those-when they get around to it." He grinned. "And they only emptied those hellholes-in a hurry-when they heard you were coming."
Rissa stopped. "You are sure of that? Tregare had given orders, long since-"
"You'll see-just watch for guys with a fresh case of waffle ass."
She saw them-new welts and old scars alike, and not only the grating patterns but also obvious whip marks. Ivan said, "Are you thinking the way I am?"
"I am thinking that at the Space Academy, Tregare did well. Before new regulations go into force, the old should be applied to those who have done this." But then she shook her
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head. "No-to see these things-it harms the mind, turns it toward vengeance. I-"
"You're wrong," said Brinton. "It's not just getting our own back-it's the only way you'll show 'em they can't get away with it now. And you want the Clients to trust you-right? Well, they see Koster-and Lavitz, maybe a few more- in there getting the ol' waffle: best move you could make!"
Ivan squeezed Rissa's hand. "You mind if I snoop around a little, round up the real sadists and give 'em a taste of their own?"
She considered. "A small taste, perhaps-hours, not days -and only for the worst among them. But now it seems fitting that Tilseng and the rest move to double-decked sleeping quarters, and draw jumpsuits only when they need to enter the office areas."
slowly, past sights that chilled Rissa, they worked their way down through the Center. At the entrance to the lowest level, an armed guard met them. "Out of bounds."
Brinton said, "If you put that gun down right away, we didn't see it. On account, if we did see it you get waffle ass for about a month." The man looked from one to another of them, put the gun on the floor and walked swiftly away.
Brinton said, "Let's get down there in a hurry. I got an idea I don't like at all." He went down the stairs fast; his limp, Rissa noticed, was almost gone.
At the bottom, along a corridor and through a door-they found havoc. Rissa gasped; her eyes clamped shut. When she opened them and could absorb what they saw: "What happened herd"
Through the crying and groaning, no one heard her. Some of the naked persons were dead, some wounded, some carrying only old mutilations-but all the uniformed figures were clearly dead. The woman holding the gun-I must force myself to look at her-turned and said, "If you're from Tre-gare, you're a little late."
Still shocked, Rissa looked around and saw no whole, un-marred person. Ivan said, "We are from Tregare-give me the gun and we'll talk about it." He reached, and Rissa thought the woman would shoot, but then Ivan had the weapon. Calmly, as though at a target range, he unloaded it and set it
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aside. "All right-now tell us what's going on. And first, your name."
Side to side the maimed head shook. "Forget my name -when I didn't look like it anymore, I killed it. Now they call me Ears. Take a good look-you'll see why."
Rissa had seen; of all the woman's scars, these held her horrified attention. One ear retained the inner cup but had been trimmed around, short of the curving fold; the other was gone entirely. "What happened to you?"
