Realms of Light

Chapter Fifteen

I called ahead, of course, to let Grandfather Nakadaknow we were coming. I didn’t tell him exactly who “we” were,though-I don’t care what encryption Ukiba used, I didn’tthink interplanetary communications could ever be secure. I didn’tmention his daughter, or Seventh Heaven, or his own alleged death;I just said I was returning with passengers and needed to talk tohim in person as soon as he could arrange it.

I got an acknowledgment that was even vaguerthan my own message, saying that my situation would be discussedonce we were on the ground.

I sent a follow-up, saying that some of ourbusiness was urgent. I didn’t say what; I let him assume it wassomething to do with the murder attempt.

Really, though, it was Dad and ’Chan. Dad wasstarting to lose it, being out of his tank and no longer having hishealth monitored; the ship’s medical banks could probably havehandled him just fine if he’d allowed it, but he didn’t trust me,or the ship, or anyone else, and said he would wait until we’dfound him a new dreamtank. He insisted that the shaking hands andcoughing fits and occasional spasms, and his inability to keep fooddown, were nothing to worry about.

And ’Chan was paralyzed from the waist down,which was more serious than I had initially thought. It wasn’t justthat he couldn’t walk; there were other things he couldn’t do,either. He was more cooperative than our father, so the ship wasable to catheterize him, but still, I knew we needed to get thatimplant out as quickly as possible.

I thought about sending a message that wewanted a doctor standing by, but decided against it. GrandfatherNakada was two hundred and forty years old; it was a safe bet healways had doctors nearby, ready to work.

At least Singh was no problem. Now that wewere actually on the way to Prometheus he seemed subdued andnervous, as if he was having second thoughts about his impulsivedecision to get off Epimetheus. He’d left his belongings behind,and his friends, if he had any-he’d told me he didn’t have anyfamily, but not everyone we care about is related to us. I figuredwe’d be able to turn him loose with minimal fuss, maybe give him afew kilocredits to get started on his new life, and he’d be smooth,despite these belated doubts.

Yoshio-kun was another matter. I hadno idea what I was going to do with him. I didn’t know whether hisexistence was legal on Prometheus-I knew making a recording wasillegal, but bringing in an already-existing one was anothermatter. The old man had done it more than once, but that didn’tmean it was actually legal, and I wasn’t him, and it might make adifference that Yoshio-sempai was still alive. I could haveasked the ship, but I didn’t actually care whether he was legal,only about whether I would need to hide his existence, and hidinghim from his original was likely to be far more important thanhiding him from the law. The old man might not want a copy ofhimself around, and not everyone thinks there’s anything wrong inerasing artificial intelligences.

And it was the original Yoshio’s ship. I wasfairly sure the ship already knew Yoshio-kun existed, andPerkins definitely knew, but I didn’t see any need to remind anyoneby asking about the laws.

Of course, Yoshio-kun probably knewbetter than anyone else what Yoshio-sempai was likely to do,so I could have just asked him, but I was busy with Dad and ’Chanand I didn’t get around to it.

Perkins put the ship down on the privateNakada field, where I was not happy to see daylight, and plenty ofit; we were back in the realms of light. My feet felt heavier inPromethean gravity, as well, and the air that cycled in fromoutside smelled of ocean and volcanic smoke.

By the time I got through the airlock a dozenfloaters were waiting for me, glittering in that horrible sunshine.“I have two people here who need medical attention,” I told thenearest one the moment I emerged; I was shading my eyes with myhand and blinking, but I could see that it was a blue and silverfloater that looked like the one I’d talked with in the Sakaibuilding. It might have just been the same model, though.

“Yes, Mis’ Hsing,” it said. “They will beseen to immediately.”

Floaters aren’t exactly known for accuratelysimulating emotions such as surprise, but I still thought this oneseemed to be prepared for my request. The ship had probably been incommunication with the planetary networks before we landed.

“I expect you to be discreet,” I said.

“We have strict instructions that everythingabout you and your activities is to be treated as confidential,” itassured me.

“Good.”

“You have an appointment with Yoshio Nakadain forty minutes. He trusts you will be prompt.”

I stopped blinking and stared at the floater,my eyes starting to water. “Forty minutes?”

“Yes.”

I had half expected him to be waiting on thelanding field, but apparently he was in less of a hurry than I hadthought. That meant I could oversee loading Dad and ’Chan intomedical transports, and I could promise Dad that he would be goinginto a dreamtank as soon as we were sure he was healthy. Whichwasn’t necessarily true, since that hadn’t been included in theagreement I made with the old man, but it kept everyone calm.

Singh was in the airlock when the medicsleft, staring out at the daylight. I realized he had probably neverseen daylight first-hand before. We watched them go, and then Singhasked, “What about me?”

“Mis’ Nakada would appreciate it if you wouldremain aboard the ship for the present,” the blue-and-silverfloater said.

“Am I being held?”

“Technically, you are trespassing, so theNakadas would be within their rights to hold you. Mis’ Nakada wouldprefer to keep this friendly, however.”

“Friendly sounds good to me.” Singh turnedand headed back into the ship, probably looking for a snack, orhoping to talk Perkins into a game of something. I suspected hewould just as soon wait until dark before venturing out into thethick, cool air of Prometheus.

And then it was time for me to head out to myappointment. Three floaters escorted me across the field andthrough a few corridors to a pleasant little office where daytimecloudscapes drifted across the walls, but where there were noactual windows.

The floaters waited at the door, and once Iwas inside the door snapped shut, locking them out and me in. Iguessed the office was a secured area, and the floaters didn’t haveclearance to enter.

In fact, I was sure the office was asecured area; the old man would scarcely have talked to me anywhereelse. At least we weren’t meeting in a dressing room somewhere.

Yoshio Nakada was waiting for me, sittingcomfortably in a big black chair that made him look small and oldand harmless-probably deliberately. A small desktop floated by hisright hand.

Nobody looks small to me, though, and I knewhe wasn’t harmless. I stepped in and stood there, waiting for himto speak first.

“Mis’ Hsing,” he said. “I see you havesuccessfully collected your retainer.”

“I have,” I agreed. “Thank you. I trust theirmedical needs are being seen to, and my father will be installed ina dreamtank here?”

“They are. You don’t mind, then, if GuohanHsing is once again removed from your life?”

I shrugged. “That’s what he wants. I respectmy ancestor’s wishes.”

He nodded. “I expected nothing less. When yourequired his safety as part of your fee I assumed either familialduty or familial affection was basic to your character, and Ithought duty more likely.”

I didn’t reply, and he continued, “You haveleft me with a mess to clean up, though-contracts broken, propertystolen or destroyed, serious criminal charges.”

“I know. I assume you can manage it.”

“Of course I can. I would have preferred atidier retrieval, though.”

“I thought you were in a hurry.”

“I am. Are you ready to begin yourinvestigation, then?”

Since he knew something of what had happenedon Epimetheus I had assumed he had kept himself informed about allof it, but maybe I’d misjudged, or maybe someone had beeninterfering, and he really didn’t know all of what I’d done inNightside City. “I already began it,” I said.

That did not seem to surprise him any morethan my agreeing to put my father back in a tank had. “Are youprepared to report any results?”

“I am prepared to discuss the situation, Mis’Nakada. I have questions I need answered.”

“I will try to answer them, then.” Hegestured toward a chair, which floated up behind me. I settled intoit.

“Did you know that everyone on Epimetheusthinks you’re dead?” I asked.

He frowned. “You’re sure?”

“Oh, very sure.”

“I had hoped that the reports had beenhacked.”

I shook my head. “Not about that,” I said.“Your death is all over the nets. Died in your sleep, causeundetermined. The newsies wanted to know what the hell I was doingwith a dead man’s ship.”

“That must have been inconvenient.”

“I managed.”

“Do you know the origin of the false reportof my death?”

“Here,” I said, pointing at the floor.“Somewhere in American City, and someone with access to yourprivate nets.”

“You think it’s related to the attempt on mylife.”

It wasn’t a question, but I said, “Probably,yes. Are you negotiating the purchase of Seventh HeavenNeurosurgery?”

He tilted his head to one side. “I am not,”he said.

“Someone here is. The buyer’s human agent isChantilly Rhee.”

That appeared to surprise him-his eyeswidened slightly. “I know Mis’ Rhee,” he said.

“So I assumed.”

“I will not insult you by asking whether youare sure, but are you certain she is aware of her involvement?”

“No,” I acknowledged. “Identity theft isdefinitely a possibility.”

“Is this planned purchase related to thesabotage of my dream enhancer?”

“I don’t know yet. It may be.”

“The negotiations are taking place onEpimetheus?”

“I think so.”

“Mis’ Rhee has not left Prometheus since theattempt on my life. I have kept very careful track of everyone inthe family compound.”

“That assumes your surveillance softwarehasn’t been compromised.”

“True.”

“I never said she was the buyer, though.She’s listed as the agent, not the principal.”

“You think my daughter is the principal?”

I noticed he took it for granted I knew whoChantilly Rhee worked for. “I don’t know,” I said. “Until thismeeting, I wasn’t sure you weren’t the principal.”

“While I am familiar with Seventh HeavenNeurosurgery, I decided some time ago that it was not a soundinvestment.”

“I know,” I said. “Poor long-term prospects.But you might have reconsidered.”

“I haven’t.”

“Someone here thinks it’s worthbuying, though.”

“Or worth appearing to want, at anyrate.”

“Or that.”

“You seem to have learned some interestingthings on Epimetheus, but I fail to see a connection to what Ihired you to investigate.”

“I don’t know the link,” I said. “Maybe thereisn’t one, but maybe there is. There’s definitely a connectionbetween Seventh Heaven and the false report of your death.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. And that report scrolling past rightafter the attempt on your life would be one hell of a coincidence.”I think he expected me to explain how the Seventh Heaven deal wasrelated, but I didn’t feel like explaining the business with theITEOD files.

“You said the false report came fromPrometheus.”

“It did.”

“But the negotiations with Seventh Heaven arebeing conducted on Epimetheus?”

“Oh, there’s definitely been activity on bothplanets.”

“Then if these events are connected, Iam dealing with a conspiracy, and not a lone assassin.”

“Well, it’s not a single individual, actingentirely alone,” I agreed. “But your assassin might just have hiredhelp. Or bought it.”

“Ah. Software might be conducting thenegotiations with Seventh Heaven.”

“Yes. And software might have made the phonydeath report.”

“Interesting.”

“Do you have any idea why anyone would wantto buy Seventh Heaven?”

“Just the local franchise, or the parentcompany?”

“The local franchise. I don’t care aboutanything on Mars, or anywhere else outside our system.”

He shook his head. “Their prospects are notgood. The resident population of Nightside City is less than halfwhat it was before the first light topped the crater wall, andthose who remain are more likely to invest in a ticket off-planetthan in a dream company’s services. They have failed to establishthemselves anywhere else in the Eta Cass system, not even elsewhereon Epimetheus; the franchise operators don’t seem to haveconsidered it worth investing the necessary capital, and the coststo start now would be prohibitive. Seventh Heaven’s presentbusiness model has no future, and I am unaware of any plans torefocus their resources.”

“Oh, I know no one’s stupid enough to wantthem as they are now,” I said. “I was thinking about whether theyhave anything that could be valuable in some completely differentway. Their dream library, maybe?”

“Their library is unremarkable,” the old mansaid.

I didn’t bother asking how he could be sure,or what standards he used to evaluate it; I didn’t doubt he knewwhat he was talking about. Instead I asked, “What else do theyhave?”

“You believe this is relevant?”

“It might be. I don’t know. If I can showthat it isn’t, that’s one less dead link to explore.”

He considered for a moment, then said, “Theirassets consist of the tanks, which have no obvious use other thantheir present one; the trust fund that is intended to fundmaintenance until their last client dies; the dream library; adiminished sales staff; long-term leases on property in Trap Under;and their client contracts. The sales staff and library arecompletely unremarkable.”

“That trust fund-is that worth chasing?”

“Not unless they intend to murder all theirclients.”

I felt a chill at that, and GrandfatherNakada must have read it on my face. “That isn’t a viable option,”he said. “While it’s true that their client base has littleconnection to the outside world, all deaths are reported to thecity authorities-by the tanks, not by the personnel-and anysuspicious increase in mortality would be noticed.”

“You’re assuming they don’t hack the tanks toprevent the death reports.”

“Mis’ Hsing, if the deaths aren’t reported,the trust fund won’t be released.”

“Could they bribe the city authorities toignore suspicions?”

“Of course they could, but corruption alwayscarries some risk, and the amount in the trust fund would notjustify that risk-it would barely cover the bribes. What’s more,some of the clients left family behind who would not be so easilysilenced.”

I had to admit that it didn’t sound like agood reason to buy the company. I wondered where those blackfloaters that had helped me get my father out fit in; did thebuyers want the clients to be removed? Would that free upthe trust fund?

But they couldn’t count on clients to havecrazy relatives. That wasn’t it.

From Yoshio’s list, that left the leases andthe contracts.

“Is space in Trap Under at a premium, maybe?”I asked. “Do people think it’ll be protected from the sun?”

“It will be protected from the sun,”the old man answered, “but no, it isn’t particularly valuable.There’s more than enough space available, and new tunnels can bebored cheaply enough. The city’s economy is based on a liveableexternal environment; if it has to move underground it won’t be anydifferent than any of the mining towns further out on the nightside, except that there’s nothing worth mining. The tourist tradewill disappear, and most of the miners will make do with their owncasinos and entertainments.”

That left the contracts.

The old man came to the same conclusion, andbefore I could ask a question he said, “The client contracts aremore of a liability than an asset. The money has already been paidin, and what’s left is the obligation to care for and entertain theclients.”

I knew he was right, but I thought there wassomething there we were missing. Those black floaters-hadthey deliberately been helping me get Dad out of there? They didn’tbelong to Seventh Heaven or the Ginza; they belonged to the NewYork, which meant the Nakadas, which probably meant whoever wasbacking Corporate Initiatives. The buyers had helped me kidnap oneof the clients-what did that mean?

Did they want Dad out of his tank? If so,why? What did a Nakada want with him?

Whatever it was, I had brought him straightto the Nakada family’s private compound.

“Where’s my father?” I asked.

“Medical services, I assume.”

“Could you check?”

If I had to describe Nakada’s expression Iwould call it “bemused.” He didn’t say anything; he turned to hisdesktop and pressed a thumb on a reader.

The seascape that had filled the displayvanished, and menus appeared. He gestured, then read theresults.

“He’s in medical services, undergoing anexamination.”

“Who has access to the exam results?”

The old man’s expression changed, so slightlyI wasn’t entirely sure at first I hadn’t imagined it. “That’s avery interesting question,” he replied. He reached up to the backof his neck, and I realized for the first time that he was jackedin, and the desktop was for my benefit, not his. He’d found myquestion interesting enough to drop the grit.

I wouldn’t have thought he’d want to ridewire after what happened to his dream enhancer, but apparently hewasn’t deterred as easily as I was. I assume he had massivesecurity on that line, the sort of watchdogs I had only ever seenfrom the outside.

“You’re right, Mis’ Hsing,” he said, though Ihadn’t said anything to be right about. “Someone’s hacked intomedical and taken a very sharp interest in your father’scondition.”

“Can you tell who?”

“I can limit the possibilities,” he said.“There are about a dozen.”

“Is Chantilly Rhee one of them?”

“Yes. So is Kumiko.”

“I’d guess some of the others are dead.”

His eyes had drifted off, upward and to theright, since I asked who had access, but now they snapped back andfocused directly on mine. “Oh?”

“I know there are at least eight uploads ofdead Nakadas running in this compound, and I’d be surprised if noneof them could get in there if they wanted to.”

“I am impressed, Mis’ Hsing. I am quite sureI did not mention my uploaded siblings and descendants to you.”

“I told you I’d started myinvestigation.”

“I will want to know more about thiseventually, but for now, let us keep our attention on more urgentmatters. You tell me that my daughter’s aide is involved in ascheme to purchase Seventh Heaven Neurosurgery, a company that is,by any rational standard, almost worthless. You seem convinced thisis linked to the attempt on my life. And I believe we have bothconcluded that what the buyers are actually after is not any of thecompany’s normal assets, but the people inside the dreamtanks.”

“I think they helped me get my father out ofthere,” I said. I didn’t bother telling him any details about theblack floaters; they weren’t relevant.

“You think they wanted him to serve as a testsample, so they could assess the condition of their intendedacquisitions. Helping you kidnap him was less likely to drawunwelcome attention than extracting one of the dreamersthemselves.”

The old man was still sharp. “Yes,” Isaid.

“It’s an interesting theory, Mis’ Hsing, butit’s based on very little evidence and a great deal of supposition.Further, there is one very basic question to which I do not see anobvious answer: What do they want with the dreamers?”

When I walked into the office I couldn’t haveanswered that question, but by this time I had figured it out.

“Bodies,” I said. “They want living bodiesthat their original owners aren’t using.”