Dark as Day

17

Three hours after Alex emerged from the unnatural high of the Neirling boost, his brain felt like a squashed melon. It would take days to sort out the flood of information dumped into him, even if he were not in a boost trough. He was in the worst possible condition to attend a difficult family meeting, and Kate hadn’t been slow to tell him so.

“I’ve never heard of anything so stupid.” She had forced him to eat a bowl of soup and now she was sitting at one end of the sofa with his head cradled in her lap, glaring down at him. “You ought to be tucked up safe in bed.”

“I wish I was. Don’t I just.” Alex lay full-length on the couch. “But Kate, I’m committed to this. I promised the family.”

“Screw the family. They’re a selfish lot, they never do anything for you.”

“I don’t want them to do anything for me. They tried for years to give me jobs that I didn’t like in Ligon Industries. I’m here to escape from them.” The painkillers that he had taken didn’t seem to be working. They had merely added to the boost slump and dulled even farther his ability to think. “But I must go to this meeting. I told them I would be there at four.”

“Then let me call and tell them that you won’t be there at four. I’ll be happy to do that for you.”

He was sure she would. Her anger had not lessened since his apology, but it seemed to have transferred from Alex to the rest of his family.

“Kate, if you talk to Prosper Ligon or my mother, you won’t just say I can’t make the appointment. You’ll flame them. And then you’ll lose your job.”

“Nonsense. I won’t lose my job.”

Alex noted that she did not deny that she was likely to cuss them out. “I’m telling you,” he said. “Your job will be in danger. It won’t happen through any direct route, or in a way we can do anything about. Mysterious pressures will drift down from somewhere higher up. Ligon Industries have been around for a long time. Even the family names go back centuries.”

“Huh.”

Which Alex read as a sign of agreement. Kate was highly savvy when it came to the realities of interaction between government and industry. She knew better than he how much an old-line and well-connected company could command in the way of political influence.

He sat up. “It’s past three. I have to go.”

Kate scowled as he groped for his shoes, but she didn’t try to keep him. “Just be firm with them,” she said, as he prepared to leave. “Tell them no. They can’t make you.”

Which just proved how little she understood the Ligon family. But Kate was watching him closely, and he was careful not to put on any of the traditional clothes normally considered necessary for a family meeting.

She nodded approval. “That’s right. I say, if they don’t treat you right then screw your family. Give them hell, sweetheart. I know you feel terrible, but remember this: even with your brains coming out of your ears you’re still three times as smart as Cousin Hector.”

Being smarter than Hector was small consolation for anything. Far more important was the sweetheart and Kate’s quick kiss on the way out.

The long ride up from Kate’s apartment to Ligon Corporate went in a blur. Alex surfaced only once from his stupor, when a flickering sign drifted past him on one of the rapid transit corridors.

Exciting news!

Exclusive to Paradigm.

Secret message to Ganymede Central!

Aliens on the way!

An informed source reveals that a message from the stars has been forwarded from the Jovian L-4 station, announcing that aliens are coming to the solar system. Will they bring peace? Will they bring war? Visit Paradigm Outlet NOW for full details!

Alex felt no temptation to obey the command to seek a connection to the Paradigm Outlet. The announcement seemed more like a pointer to the inside of his own head. One of the “futures” considered and discarded by the prediction program had been the discovery of messages from aliens. It must have been thrown out in favor of a more probable future, but it had occurred very early during the run. Could it have been this early, on the same day as the run was made?

Should he change his mind and tune in? How old was the “secret message” that Paradigm was shouting about? He knew it was one of the most sensational of the Outlets, where “exciting news” could easily be the rehash of something decades old.

Whatever he did would have to wait, because he was approaching the bronzed double doors of Ligon Corporate. He stared in through the eye-level camera, was recognized from his retinal pattern, and waited for the heavy doors silently to swing open. The Level Three Fax was waiting there, but also to his surprise was Uncle Karolus Ligon.

Normally Alex’s uncle had no time for him. Today he examined Alex’s paler-than-paper face, gave a broad wink, and said “Been getting the old leg over, then? She must have been quite a tiger from the looks of you,” and led a mystified Alex through to the conference room.

Only five positions were marked out at the marble-topped oval table, including a seat for Alex. That was a bad sign. It meant that only the most senior family members would be present. In addition to Alex — who was decidedly not senior — he saw Lena, Uncle Prosper, Uncle Karolus, and Great-aunt Cora. There was one significant omission.

“Where’s Great-aunt Agatha?”

He addressed the question to his mother, but it was Prosper Ligon who answered. “Agatha is indisposed.”

“You mean she’s sick. She can’t be.”

Great-aunt Agatha, as she would readily point out, was one of the Commensal program’s biggest success stories. Five years ago, she had been a weak and wasted centenarian. Now, at age one hundred and ten, she enjoyed an active social and sexual life.

Prosper nodded his ancient donkey head. “I am sorry to say that is so. Agatha is sick. We have yet to learn how sick.”

His tone was mournful, but Alex saw a gleam of yellowed teeth. Great-aunt Agatha had been widely advertised by Sylva Commensals in their promotional material. A picture of her before and after the conversion to a Commensal, with the note: Which would you rather be: young-looking and healthy, or old and sick?

It was obvious how Prosper Ligon’s thoughts and hopes were running. If Great-aunt Agatha were really sick — or, better yet, died — that would knock the stuffing out of Sylva Commensals’ sales. And Sylva was one of the companies whose growth had pushed Ligon down toward the bottom of the top ten corporations in the System.

Prosper went on, “The condition of Agatha is not, however, relevant to the reason for this meeting. Alex, I am sorry to tell you that we have received a most disturbing report from Cyrus Mobarak. Before we begin, would you like to make a statement?”

A statement about what? Alex glanced at each of the faces, and received no enlightenment. Uncle Karolus gave him another wink.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to make a statement about.”

“Very well. If you choose to feign ignorance, so be it. The other day, you went with your mother to meet Cyrus Mobarak and his daughter, Lucy-Maria. While Lena and Mobarak were briefly absent, it seems that you persuaded Lucy-Maria to go with you on an expedition to the lower Ganymede levels. Does the name ‘Holy Rollers’ mean anything to you?”

“Yes. She took me there.”

“Lucy-Maria states otherwise. At the Holy Rollers Club, she maintains that you, without her knowledge, placed some form of behavior-modifying drug into an otherwise harmless drink. She remembers nothing of subsequent events, until she was discovered by security guards in a private room. She was naked, she had been sexually assaulted, and tests revealed the presence of multiple addictive drugs within her body. She was carried home, where she told her father that although she cannot state with absolute conviction that you were the guilty party, she spoke only a few words to anyone else present at the club. Would you now like to make a statement? Would you, for instance, like us to request that a DNA test be performed to establish that you were not the person who forced himself onto her?”

Alex shook his head. “Forcing yourself onto — or into — Lucy-Maria Mobarak would be an impossibility, because she was always at least two steps ahead of you. He would get nowhere telling his family that. As for the DNA test, chances were better than even that he would fail. He wasn’t sure how many people he’d had sex with that night, but he was fairly sure that it was more than one.

Prosper Ligon, staring down at the tabletop as though addressing it rather than Alex, went on, “If you have nothing more to offer on your own behalf, we are forced to assume your guilt.” Great-aunt Cora gave Alex a stony and accusing glare. Lena Ligon said, “My dear, I’m so disappointed in you,” and Uncle Karolus said, “How was she, then?”

“Needless to say,” Prosper Ligon continued, “Cyrus Mobarak now considers Alex Ligon as a dissolute rake, totally unsuitable as a marriage partner for his innocent daughter.”

The word “innocent” finally got to Alex. His head was aching worse than he ever remembered it, and he was being crucified for nothing. He remembered Kate’s advice. Screw your family. Give them bell. But they were screwing him! He burst out, “His innocent daughter! Did Lucy say I was her first fuck ever? Because if she did, that’s a total lie. I bet she’s had more men up her than the Ganymede central elevator.”

Great-aunt Cora gasped, Uncle Karolus guffawed, and Prosper Ligon said acidly, “We neither inquired of Cyrus Mobarak regarding his daughter’s previous sexual experience, nor do we intend to. The simple fact of the matter, Alex Ligon, is that you have failed the family. If we hope to achieve a union with Mobarak’s empire, we must seek it through other methods. And fortunately, such an avenue appears to be available. Lucy-Maria Mobarak is, it seems, very taken with your cousin, Hector.”

“Hector!” Alex said. “But he’s a total idiot!”

“Now then,” Karolus said. “That happens to be my son you’re talking about. Not that I disagree with you. But Cyrus Mobarak is a doting father, and if things work out he’ll go along.”

“IP” Prosper glared. “This if is news to me. I thought Mobarak’s consent had already been given.”

“It’s not him. It’s her.”

“Lucy-Maria is balking?”

“Not exactly. But somebody put a half-witted idea in her head. She says she wants Hector to ‘prove himself.’ ”

“Prove he is able to sire children?”

“Good God, no. If all she wanted was proof of his fertility, I could offer plenty. I’m paying for his little mistakes all over Ganymede. No, she wants him to perform some great and noble deed.”

“What sort of deed?”

“The mind boggles.” Uncle Karolus scowled. “It’s not like he can ride off on a horse somewhere and fight a dragon. Hector says he wants to think about it and come up with something valuable for the family, all by himself. Except that thinking is what he’s worst at. Alex there is the one who thinks.”

“To remarkably little avail.” Prosper Ligon turned again to Alex. “You owe the family some exceptional service as compensation for what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything that Hector hasn’t done a hundred times.”

“Comparison with your cousin will not help your case. He at least is doing his best for the family. I will tell you exactly what we expect of you. We discussed this before you arrived.” Prosper looked around the table for the confirming nods of agreement, and went on, “You were present at our last full meeting, when the decision was made to accept the contract for Phase Two of the Starseed contract. Our profit for this work — and, indeed, possibly the very survival of Ligon Industries — depends upon the rights to operate down to and within the atmosphere of Saturn. Those rights reside with the lease on the minor moon Pandora. Do you recall any of this, or were you daydreaming of lustful pleasures throughout the meeting?”

“You are confusing me with my sex-mad cousins, Rezel and Tanya. I remember perfectly well what was said at the meeting. It was Rezel and Tanya who were supposed to contact the present leaseholder and fuck him until he didn’t know which way was up or what day of the week it was. I was only a third-string back-up. What happened? Did the nympho twins strike out?”

Bad language and sexual references had no effect on Prosper Ligon. The old donkey’s head gave a more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger shake, and his uncle said, “Insults to fellow family members cannot compensate for your own failings, Alex. Do you deny that you have family duties and family responsibilities?”

“I have always done my absolute best for this family. The very fact that I am here, where I have no wish to be, proves that.”

“Very good. You now have an opportunity to prove it once again. Rezel and Tanya, for whatever reason” — Prosper Ligon coughed drily — “were unsuccessful in arranging to meet with the current leaseholder of Pandora. From certain rumors that we have heard, concerning the interests and nature of the leaseholder, we believe that you have a better chance of success. We wish you to take on this assignment.”

It was no surprise to Alex — the mysterious ticket to the Saturn system had been a pretty obvious clue. “You mean because he’s interested in computers and computer models? If he’s really reclusive, that won’t be enough. There are tens of millions of modelers in the System, and he won’t agree to see any of them. He’ll surely refuse to see me.” Alex thought of the predictive model in its present disastrous condition, and went on, “Even if he would see me, I can’t possibly go anywhere at the moment. My work is at a critical stage.”

Lena Ligon shook her head, and said in her sweetest and most reasonable voice, “Alex, dear Alex. Give us some credit for knowing what we are doing.”

Prosper Ligon raised his head and added, “Your mother is for wiser than you. She realizes, as apparently you do not, that Ligon Industries has connections and influences that extend to the highest levels of Jovian system government. Will you accept the truth of that statement?”

Alex has stressed that very point to Kate Lonaker, little more than an hour before. He nodded.

“We feel sure that a leave of absence for you to pursue the question of the Pandora lease will be approved. What we ask of you is that you visit the current leaseholder, and argue our case.”

“Suppose that he won’t meet with me?”

“We have evidence to suggest that he will. Once again, we possess corporate resources which you seem to undervalue and underestimate.”

Alex was ready to reply — he was going to say that he would take the assignment, in the hope that would let him escape (torn the meeting — when the door leading into the conference room crashed open.

Everyone turned. Great-aunt Agatha stood on the threshold. Her clothes were normal enough in style, but her blouse lacked the usual carefully-chosen brooches and hung open to reveal her carefully sculptured bosom. “Started without me, eh?” she said. “The decline of manners is a symptom of this decadent age.” She walked forward briskly enough, but with an odd and crab-like sideways motion.

As she took her place at the table, Uncle Karolus said abruptly, “Thought you were sick.”

“Nonsense. Now, what’s the first order of business?”

She was addressing Prosper Ligon, but it was Lena Ligon who answered, “Agatha. There’s something wrong. You’re yellow.”

As soon as his mother said that, Alex could see it, too. Great-aunt Agatha’s skin had a slightly sallow tinge, but it was her eyes that really showed it. Usually the whites were absolutely clear, with a hint of blue that spoke of perfect health. Those whites were now a muddy yellow, almost buff in color.

“Nonsense,” Agatha said again. “Lena, you are imagining things.”

“You told me you were sick.” Prosper Ligon walked around the table toward her. “You were supposed to go to Sylva Commensals so they could take a look at you. Did you go?”

“I did not. Complete waste of time. I feel fine.” Agatha placed her hands on her right side just below the rib cage. She was pressing there, and Alex noticed a slight tremble in her fingertips.

He glanced at the others. They seemed to have no idea what was wrong. “Aunt Agatha, are you feeling any pain?”

“Of course not.”

And of course, her answer should have been no surprise. One advantage of being a Commensal was that one of the interior organisms took care of pain symptoms, while others repaired any damage.

“It’s the parent schistosome,” Alex said. And, when the others stared, “The big wormy thing that sits above the liver in a Commensal. There’s something wrong with it. Maybe it’s even dead. Look at her symptoms. She has jaundice, because the liver isn’t breaking down bile correctly; and I think there’s swelling in the liver, where she’s pressing herself.”

“Nonsense. I am perfectly fine.” But Great-aunt Agatha’s words lacked their usual crisp diction, and she was bending over sideways in her seat.

Prosper said, without any hint of haste, “This meeting is now adjourned. Karolus, Alex, give me a hand. Cora, make an emergency call.”

“Where to?”

“Sylva Commensals, of course. This is their responsibility.”

Karolus said, “Ha! Sylva. Trillions in damages,” and went at once to Agatha’s other side.

Alex was slower to move. He had been watching his mother. On her perfect face, for the first time in his life, he saw undisguised alarm and terror.

“They say she’s going to be all right.”

Kate paused with the lighted taper in her hand. “They being who?”

“Sylva Commensals. Apparently the death of one of the big schistosomes is rare, but it has happened before. They’ll take it out of Aunt Agatha, put in a replacement, and she’ll be as good as new.”

Kate lit the candle and blew out the taper. “They more or less have to say that, don’t they? Either things are fine, or else they admit there’s something fundamentally dangerous about becoming a Commensal.”

She had greeted Alex on his return with an explosive, “I’ve wondered and wondered. You’ve got to tell me everything.” More revealing than her words were her clothes and the condition of her apartment. She was wearing a tight pantsuit of powder blue, showing off her figure and enhancing the color of her eyes. The lights were dim, and a casserole was steaming in the kitchen oven. Where Alex would sit was a bottle of whiskey and a flagon of Callistan ice melt, drinks that he preferred to any wine in spite of Kate’s efforts to “educate” him. The table was decorated with candles, sprigs of ivy, and fronds of lady’s slipper. Alex, knowing that Kate was a great believer in the language of flowers, sneaked a look at a reference database while she was off removing the casserole from the oven. Sprig of ivy, with tendrils: assiduous to please. And Lady’s slipper: win me and wear me. Both of which suited him very well. He wasn’t going to mention the recent past if she didn’t.

“I think that being a Commensal may be dangerous,” he said. “I received some very odd visions about them when I was inside the predictive model.” He decided that was the right way to put it. He had been inside the model when it was running, and visions was a better word than facts. What he retained after he left the model was a great jumble of impressions, perhaps scrambled in time.

“I’ll tell you one thing, though,” he went on. “After we left Sylva Commensals, Uncle Karolus did a funny little hop-step. ‘They’re in shit up to their necks and they can’t duck,’ he said. ‘We have recordings of the meeting, with Agatha walking like a lame crab and yellow as a banana. I’ll make sure that the pictures are with the media tomorrow — leaked, of course. We’ll insist we have no idea how they got out from Ligon Corporate.’ ”

“Dirty tactics.” Kate refilled Alex’s glass. “What did I tell you? Wherever you encounter gobs of money, you’ll find shady business methods to go with it.”

They were sitting opposite each other at the little table, small enough so that knee contact was inevitable. “All right,” Kate went on. “I don’t want just the high points. Give me details, the whole thing. Every second from the moment you arrived at Ligon Industries until you walked back in that door.”

It was a tall order, but Alex did his best. He ate a fair amount, drank a lot, and talked steadily while Kate sipped wine and listened in silence. She frowned once, when he said he hadn’t denied having sex with Lucy-Maria, or whoever else it might have been, on his disastrous night at the Holy Rollers”, but Kate clapped her hands with delight when he told her that he had recalled her advice, Screw your family. Give them hell, and described his own outburst.

“Bravo, Alex. Exactly what they deserved.”

“Maybe. But I didn’t do so well later. If it’s approved for me to take a few days leave I’m pretty much committed to trying to see this weirdo who hangs out on Pandora. I don’t want to do it, but I didn’t know how to say no.”

“Don’t give it a second thought. I’ll pass word up the line that your presence here is absolutely vital. Which it is.”

“I’m not sure. Prosper Ligon sounded pretty confident. He usually makes sure of his positions ahead of time.” Alex had another thought. He had covered everything from the time he arrived at Ligon Corporate, but not the period while he was traveling there. “Kate, I saw a news blurb while I was heading up for the meeting, about some sort of alien contact. It made me think of something similar in the predictive model. Have you heard anything about alien messages?”

“There was nothing on the standard channels.”

“There wouldn’t be. This was a Paradigm special.”

“Then it was more than likely garbage. Want me to check it out?”

“If you would.” Alex didn’t say, if you can. Kate could network in a way that he would never master. “Not now, though.”

“Certainly not now. Have you finished eating?”

“Yes.”

Kate rested her hand on the top of the bottle. “And drinking?”

“Not quite.” Alex realized that his head no longer ached. He felt good, physically and mentally. He took the bottle from her. “One more, for medicinal purposes. You know the origin of the word ‘whiskey’? It comes from usquebaugh, which meant ‘water of life.’ The old-timers back on Earth knew what they were talking about.”

“Just don’t drink too much. You know what another of your old-timers said about alcohol? ‘Liquor increases the desire but ruins the performance.’ ”

Which disposed of any question as to what would happen next. Kate might be worried, but she didn’t need to be. Beneath the table, Alex gripped her knee between his. This had been a long and multiply-horrible day, but the night would be better.

To borrow from more of the old-timers, all’s well that ends well. And then there was, Unborn tomorrow and dead yesterday, why fret about them if today be sweet? Not to mention a lecherous head begets a lecherous tail.

He didn’t realize that he was speaking aloud until Kate reached out and very firmly removed the bottle from his hand. “When you start babbling quotations, it means you’ve had quite enough.”

“I’m feeling great.”

“That’s all right. Feeling great is allowed.” Kate put the bottle off on a side table and reached out a hand to raise Alex to his feet. “What isn’t allowed is Alex Ligon, tomorrow morning, telling me that he’s not sure who he had sex with tonight.”