I have to sit to quell the nausea. I can only be grateful that I viewed that scene through Driscoll’s eyes instead of experiencing it through Lorcan.
At least the things I learned about pollination were helpful. It’s strange. Our love for Tara keeps us attached to, and able to function, in the universe. Our love for our fellow branches is self-preservation. It’s the intersection of those desires that produces fruit laden with nau’gshtamine amide-t, the active ingredient in the blue amrita, which then allows the mothman some measure of direct communication with Tara. It’s all a very delicately balanced cycle. So why are some of them so touchy about it? It’s the older ones, mostly, from Atlas and Goliath, although Patrick and Tarlach and Cüinn seem to feel comfortable with their sexuality. As for me, the more I learn, the more it seems pointless and unproductive to fight against nature.
Tara is moving now, which snaps my attention back to the present. She is being taken to a central meeting place to speak to the assembled colonists. More than likely, she needs to address the events of yesterday, explaining the reason for heightened security. The colonists are restless. They want to get out of the camp and onto their new homesteads as soon as possible.
The lockdown isn’t just about keeping Ashvattha safe, though. It’s about keeping Anger safe. There might be a terrorist cell present, but the overwhelming majority of those people are here for their chance to reinvent themselves. In the Domha’vei, property ownership is restricted to the aristos. Social mobility is motivation enough for some, let alone the possibility of immortality if one of their trees takes a fancy to a member of their families. Furthermore, a lot of these people are hardcore Archonists. When they find out that Anger tried to destroy Ashvattha, they’re going to want to rip her to shreds.
How did such a young girl get involved in such a desperate act? To an extent, I can understand the motivations she espouses. The problem is that she’s lacking the big picture. Of course, it’s hard to have a broader perspective when all you’ve ever known is the gutter.
Somehow, it’s hard to picture her having the idea for this completely on her own. Even though it doesn’t look like she had a collaborator, someone must’ve been running her, indoctrinating her. Fenntians? I suppose the question is of degree. Perhaps she joined the Fenntians and was inspired to take personal action. But my gut tells me that she was primed for this. If that’s so, there are probably others like her, each convinced that s/he is acting on self-initiative. They don’t know that there are others, so they can’t reveal their existence. It’s quite possible that the ringleader is subtle enough that no direct plan was ever suggested. A good enough psychologist can brainwash with the right combination of seemingly innocuous statements. I remember reading about what Covey, the CenGov black-ops agent, did to Suibhne.
Who would benefit from instigating someone like her? That’s pretty easy to answer: Terrans. This is looking like another go-round with CenGov – and I’m certain Rivers feels that way as well. Could CenGov also be behind the assassination attempt on Tara? It’s possible. Tasean malcontents are also possible, as any number of scheming Skarsian battlequeens and Volparnian heroes. The political situation in the Domha’vei has always been volatile. Tara’s reign calmed things for a while, but then the presence of viable immortality stirred the pot again. And I still can’t clearly piece together the last few years. I’m not sure who our enemies are.
Dammit, I need more information. Tara could be here all day, greeting the soldiers, signing paperwork, conferring with Graysal.
It occurs to me that even if Tara can’t speak with me, I could probably learn a lot if I only had access to those journal entries on her datapad. But, of course, she’s got it with her. No one goes anywhere without a datapad.
I wonder if Rivers is good enough to hack into it. That could cause all sorts of trouble, though, and it’s likely that Tara would be furious.
If only I could talk to Thoughtful 45. Tara has his app on her datapad; he might be able to use it to access her files. My first thought it to contact Lilith, Thoughtful’s wife and Cillian’s prodigal daughter. Unfortunately, she happens to be in a different galaxy.
No, it’s easier than that. Captain Noviik reinstalled the same app on the datapad that SSOps gave her. She’s a member of PLOT/Twist, so I should be able to request her help confidentially. I just have to find her first. I can remember her scent from last night, but there are a lot of people nearby – hundreds of them. There’s nothing all that distinctive about her except…
…her jacket. It’s made of Masock fabric. I remember Quennel saying that she fancied it, and it didn’t suit her. The gas inside of the tubing is quite distinctive. After all, the Ateher *hissclick* Masock homeworld is located in the Small Magellanic Cloud.
I think back now to the memories I accessed in Quennel’s branch. There was a lot I ignored at the time, but it’s all still there, easy to examine. Like the smell of the fabric he made for Tara.
Got it.
I follow her at a safe distance until she turns down what appears to be an empty alleyway running between the equipment storage buildings and a half-constructed granary. She enters one of the buildings. I can sense her body heat pressed against the corrugated wall. She has a gun in her hand: a projectile weapon. I can smell the powder.
I guess she knows that I’m following her. Before I press my hand against the door, I turn the firing pin to clay.
“If you pull the trigger, you’ll ruin your gun,” I say. “I’m Rand, by the way, 44th emanation of Ashtara.”
Of course she has to try it. I probably just should’ve changed the powder into flour. “What did you do to this?” she asks, annoyed.
“Alchemy.”
Her eyes meet mine. “It is you,” she says. “Well, either you’re fixing the gun or you’re paying for it. Take your pick.” She tosses it to me.
I suppose I can reconstruct this. Patrick would’ve had it done by now. “I need to borrow your datapad,” I tell her as I fiddle with the firearm.
“For how long? I’ll be pissed if I don’t get it back this time.”
“You’ll get it back. I just need to contact Thoughtful 45.” But I don’t really want him to download Tara’s private journals onto Suzanna’s equipment – I need a pad of my own. This is the most challenging alchemical production I’ve attempted so far. I pick up a brick. It’s a too heavy; I’ll have to do something with the extra matter.
I make myself a copy of her datapad and a box of candy. I hand the candy to her.
“Imestid pralines? How did you know I liked Imestid pralines?”
“You were eating them at the gala.”
“In all the time I was seeing him, Chase never gave me candy,” she sulks. “Can you throw in some flowers?”
Hmmm. If the version of events in Patrick’s novel is correct, Suzanna is exaggerating the degree of her relationship with Chase. And she most certainly is, since Cu’enashti are incapable of sexual arousal by anyone other than the Chosen.
I wonder how Lilith manages with Thoughtful?
No, she’s Cillian’s daughter. I don’t want to think about that. Ew ew ew.
“The candy is recompense for your inconvenience, but when a Cu’enashti gives you flowers, it’s serious,” I tell Suzanna. “And please consider our meeting confidential for now. Don’t even tell Rivers.”
“Nice,” she says. “It’s rare I get to know something before Clive. You don’t mind if I gloat a bit?”
“Gloat away, as long as you don’t tell him why.”
“Clive never gave me candy either,” she says as I take my leave.
*****
Fortunately for me, the Thoughtful 45 app is capable of communicating directly with the one on Tara’s datapad. It tells me that if it had to contact Thoughtful 45 prime, it would take 16 standard hours to get a reply. That’s really pretty reasonable, considering that the message would have to go to another galaxy. Very reasonable, considering that our best means of communication would require us to fire a comm drone through the wormhole to the hub at Eirelantra. Six days at best.
While I wait for the files, I scan Suzanna’s data. There’s an enormous collection of pornography. She has a copy of Bubble Fun, the candid holovid starring Lucius and Tara. I really want to watch it, but I can’t allow myself to be distracted right now. It doesn’t take long to get the files from Tara anyway.
Before I can look, however, I feel something shoving at the back of my mind. An overwhelming feeling that there’s something I have to know, something terrifying.