I’d never seen Epimetheus from space before; whenI’d left I hadn’t bothered to look.
I looked this time, and decided I hadn’tmissed much.
The ship I was in was Grandfather Nakada’sprivate yacht; the old man had personally escorted me aboard tohand over command. It had all the luxuries, including a live pilot,just in case the old man wanted something the software couldn’thandle. The pilot was a redheaded roundeye, tall, with a face Icould live with that wouldn’t win any awards, 100% natural as faras I could tell. When I asked, the ship told me his name was ColbyPerkins.
Wasn’t sure I’d heard it right at first, andsince the man himself wandered in just then I asked, “Your name’sPickens?”
“It’s Perkins,” he told me, blinking thosepale blue eyes of his-strange how many colors eyes can come in, butusually don’t. “Colby Perkins.”
“Perkins,” I said. “Got it. I knew someonenamed Pickens once, wondered if you were any relation.”
“No, Mis’, it’s not the same name at all.” Heseemed a little uneasy about something, wouldn’t keep his eyes onme, but it didn’t look serious. Maybe he just wasn’t used topassengers.
Or maybe I’m uglier than I thought.
At least he wasn’t family to Zar Pickens, whowelshed on me back on Epimetheus; I wouldn’t want anyone who sharedancestors with that human gritware to be piloting any ship I wason.
Whatever, I didn’t need to make himuncomfortable, so I looked out the window, and he went away.
Yes, window. Nakada’s yacht had big, fancywindows in the lounge, not just vid or holo. I could watchrealtime, direct and live, as we came in across the nightside andheaded for the field in Nightside City.
There wasn’t much to see. Just a lot ofdarkness, and a seething mass of silver-gray clouds in a giganticring at the storm line. If you get out further and look straightdown at the midnight pole the planet must look like a practicetarget, with the pale slushcap at the pole, and then the dark stonearound it, and then the circle of clouds where everythingprecipitates out of the upper-level air currents, and then darkstone again, and finally the bright line of the dayside at theedge. I suppose there would be occasional pixels of light at thevarious settlements, too.
I never saw it from that angle, though; wecame in low so it was just black and grey, no details anywhereuntil the lights of Nightside City sparkled on the horizon, and aninstant later the light of day spread across behind the city in along, widening arc like a cadcam construction, hot and golden.
I don’t like daylight, so I didn’t look anymore after that. I let Perkins, or maybe the ship, take us intoport, and when we were down I hit the ground. I wanted to movefast. The old familiar gravity made me feel light on my feet, readyto run.
One thing about the Wheeler Drive-it’s sofast that I hadn’t had time to plan much on the way. I’d taken insome data on Nakada’s immediate family, but that was about it. Icame out of the port without any very clear idea of just what I wasgoing to do.
I could eat and sleep on the ship, if Iwanted to-I’d made sure that was understood. I didn’t have to worryabout finding somewhere to park myself.
All I had to do was find ’Chan and my fatherand get them out of there, and if I happened to learn anythingabout the conspiracy against Grandfather Nakada while the programwas running, that was fine and smooth. I was supposed toinvestigate the conspiracy, sure, but all I really intended to dowas take a quick look, because the odds were way the hell up therethat the important stuff was back on Prometheus. As far as I wasconcerned, I’d just come for my family.
So where to start?
My father was in a Seventh Heaven dreamtanksomewhere in Trap Under. ’Chan was at the Ginza, working for IRC.Neither one was all that easy to pull loose.
But ’Chan would be faster-all I had to dothere was convince him to make a run to the ship, and get himoff-planet before IRC stopped us. Once we were off Epimetheus,Nakada could debug whatever IRC might want to do.
My father I had to find first. Andgetting him aboard the ship would be easier without ’Chan trailingalong.
That meant starting in Trap Under. Do thehard part first. I waved, and a cab zipped up, door opening.
I got in, and the cab asked, “Where to,Mis’?”
I didn’t have an answer for that right thereand ready to run.
Most of Trap Under isn’t exactly open to thepublic; they don’t want the tourists wandering in, getting in theway. The tourists are supposed to stay up top, where everyone canskim off their money, not get down there in the maintenancecorridors. I couldn’t just walk in.
The obvious way into the Seventh Heavendreamtank was through the Seventh Heaven sales office in Trap Over,wherever it was, but that didn’t look as if it was going to worktoo well-if it were that easy, Nakada could have done it and atleast presented me with half the deal. Sure, Nakada was acompetitor and I was family-but I wasn’t legally family anymore, not since my parents did the dump on me more than twentyyears back, and competitors on Epimetheus weren’t all armed camps.Doing a favor for Grandfather Nakada wasn’t unthinkable.
So I wasn’t going to be able to do this theeasy way. I’d have to get into Trap Under somehow, and either scamor bribe or threaten my way to my father.
I tried to remember where the dreamtank was.I’d never visited it-there’s no point in visiting dreamers-but I’dhad a pretty good map of Nightside City in my head once.
And I’d lost it. Oh, I still had my naturalmemory, but I hadn’t kept it up, hadn’t thought about Trap Under ina year or so, and the old artificial-memory back-up had gottenfried when I took a little unscheduled vacation on the dayside,courtesy of the walking gritware who’d been conning SayuriNakada.
But the dreamtanks were mostly right underthe casinos, to make it easy for big-time losers to cash outpermanently; I remembered that much. And maybe I could beep ’Chan,let him know I was back on Epimetheus for the moment.
So maybe I wasn’t going to start with myfather after all. Maybe my brother did come first.
“The Ginza,” I said. “Service entrance.”
The cab didn’t bother to answer, it justzipped up into traffic, headed for Trap Over. I sat back, thinking,and hoping the cab didn’t decide to get chatty.
I hadn’t really planned anything out; I hadwanted to see the situation first-hand before I hit enter. Now Ihad to decide what I would run at the Ginza. I looked out thewindow, hoping for inspiration, but just saw twenty-meter ads fornude dancing at the Jade Club.
There was something oddly comforting aboutthose glimmering holographic ecdysiasts glowing against the darksky. I couldn’t have told you just how they were any different fromsome of the ads in Alderstadt or American City, but they were. Theymeant I was home.
It was a home I could never live in again, Iknew that, but it was still home.
Once we were in the Trap I spotted the Ginza,with its distinctive bronze-green tower and dragon banners, but thecab didn’t head for the fancy overhang; I’d told it the serviceentrance, so it looped around and dived down through the traffic,almost hitting a knot of giggling pedestrians as it veered into atunnel mouth and jigged its way down.
When the cab finally settled to the plasticflooring I still hadn’t debugged anything, but I paid the fare anda fat tip-it was Nakada’s money, not mine, and the cab hadn’tbothered me-and I got out.
The Ginza’s service entrance was one levelbelow the streets-technically, the top level of Trap Under. For allI knew, my father might have been just the other side of a wall,though it was more likely he was somewhere deep down, a hundredmeters or more below anywhere open to the public.
I still hadn’t come up with anything but theobvious, so I walked up to the door and told it, “I’m here to seeone of your employees, Sebastian Hsing. It’s family business.”
“You know you aren’t welcome here, Mis’Hsing.”
I should have realized it would recognize me.I’d known from my treatment back on Prometheus that IRC stillhadn’t forgiven me for my moment of folly a few years back, whenI’d given a welsher a chance to get away from them, and of coursethey’d keep everything in the system up to date. Their softwarewasn’t inclined to be helpful where I was concerned.
“I’m not here to play or solicit customers,”I said. “I just need to talk to my brother. It’s a privatematter.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No,” I admitted. “I haven’t been able toreach him by com.”
I hadn’t actually tried, since I assumed IRCwas monitoring everything he saw or heard.
“I can give him a message,” the doorsaid.
That was probably the best I could hope for,so I said, “Tell him Carlie needs to talk to him about an urgentfamily matter.”
“He will receive the message at his nextbreak.”
“I’ll wait.” Human croupiers only didhalf-hour shifts-the casino didn’t want them getting distracted,thinking about the hot player a few seats down, or when dinnermight be, or a full bladder. Even more important, they didn’t wantthem watching enough play to start noticing bias in the equipment,so every table changed staff every thirty minutes, and ’Chan wouldhave ten minutes to play his messages and get a drink and whateverbefore heading to his next position. I could wait that long.
The door didn’t say anything. “Should I wait,Mis’?” the cab asked from behind me.
“No,” I told it. I almost started to explainthat I didn’t know how long I’d be there, but then I remembered itwas a cab. It didn’t care why.
“Thank you,” it said, and then it was gone,swooping away at an acceleration that would have been nasty for ahuman passenger.
I leaned against the wall by the door; theplastic was warm against my back.
I didn’t like that I hadn’t done anyplanning. I should have skimmed background from the nets before Ilanded. I hadn’t because I was used to having the data I neededright there waiting any time I bothered to ask for it, but thistime I couldn’t trust everything I pulled down. I didn’t have myold office com that knew everything about Nightside City anymore. Ididn’t have my new office com from Alderstadt, either. All I hadwas the public nets and what I carried with me. I wasn’t carryingmuch, and if Grandfather Nakada was right, I shouldn’t believeeverything I found on the public nets. So I was scrolling blind,seeing what came up the screen.
As I said, I wasn’t really looking forNakada’s conspiracy of assassins. I had to assume that if they’dgotten at the old man’s dreamware, they were smart enough to spotanyone who went poking around after them. I was just running my ownerrands, and keeping all ports open for data about the Nakada clan.If anything beeped, I’d take a look. If it all looked smooth, thenI’d go back to Prometheus and work that end.
For now, though, it was all family. With Mis’Perkins waiting for me on the ship I could get ’Chan and our fatheroff-planet without any tickets-if I could get them to the port.’Chan shouldn’t be too much trouble, but pulling a wirehead out ofthe dreamtanks was another program entirely. The only way I hadever heard of a wirehead coming out of the tank alive was if thecops needed her as a witness-city cops or casino cops, either one.If the wirehead survived, she went back in the tank afterward.
I’d seen vid of a wirehead witness once. Shelooked like walking gritware, and wanted nothing more than to getback to her dreams. She told them whatever they wanted to hear, soshe could get it over with and climb back in the tank, and thewhole time her eyes were flipping back and forth, trying not to seeboring old reality.
If I did get Dad out, the kindest thing Icould do would probably be to plug him into a new dreamtank onPrometheus. If Grandfather Nakada froze at paying for that, I’dcall it a medical expense.
I didn’t think he’d freeze. The moneyinvolved wasn’t enough to matter to the Nakadas.
But first I had to get Dad out, and to dothat, first I had to find him. The location of a particularwirehead was proprietary information, not something Seventh Heavengave out to anyone who asked-an amazing number of wireheads hadleft enemies behind who might like a chance to cut a few leads on aparticular dreamtank, just for old times’ sake. After all, peoplewho had a happy life and a lot of friends in the real world didn’tbuy the dream in the first place.
’Chan might know something. We might be ableto run the family pack on some flunky, even though the law said weweren’t family anymore.
The door suddenly said, “I have a messagefrom Sebastian Hsing for Carlisle Hsing.”
“I’m Carlisle Hsing,” I said. I held up mycard where the scan could read it, just in case it had decided toneed proof beyond whatever it had used to recognize me before.
’Chan’s voice came from the speaker. “I getoff after my next table. I can meet you in the employee lounge.This better be important, Carlie.”
The door slid open. “Please follow the bluelight to the employee lounge, Mis’ Hsing,” it said in its ownvoice. “Do not attempt to visit other areas.”
“Thank you,” I said. You never know whethersoftware’s advanced enough to appreciate the niceties, and itdoesn’t cost to use them.
Beyond the door was a drab corridor that ledto a door a dozen meters away; a ball of blue light hovered in theair a few meters in. I followed it in.
It led through the door, which opened aheadof me, then around a corner to the right and down another corridor,then up a ramp to another corridor, but this one had thickred-and-black fixed-color carpet and better-quality doors openingoff it. I could hear voices, human ones by the sound,somewhere.
Finally the blue light stopped in front of adoor upholstered in red vinyl. The door didn’t open for me, and atfirst I thought something had gone wrong, but there was the light,and it looked like a lounge. I pushed on the door with myhand, and it swung inward.
The room beyond was littered with discardedplates and teacups. The red-and-black carpet was the same as in thecorridor, but more worn, and with several old, dark stains. Onewall shone with the gentle blue of a welcome screen. Two tables anda dozen chairs were randomized; I settled onto a chair, let it fititself to me, then waved at the screen.
“Public access?” I asked.
“Available,” it replied.
“Tell me about Seventh Heaven Neurosurgery,”I said.
After all, if I was going to have to wait, Imight as well put the time to good use.
Half a dozen images appeared, waiting for meto choose-an ad for their services, a financial statement, customerreviews, and so on. I pointed at a newsy.
At least, I thought it was a newsy, but itwas hype. “There are many companies offering neurologicalservices,” it told me, “but one stands out from the crowd. The namemay be Seventh Heaven, but these dreams are second to none.”
It went on to tell me that Seventh Heaven hadbeen around for over a century, and was based on Mars, in SolSystem. I asked a question at that, and found out that theoperation on Epimetheus was a franchise operated entirely by localtalent-they leased the name and the equipment from the parentcompany.
So when Nightside City fried, what wouldhappen to their tanks? These people didn’t even own them,and somehow I doubted corporate back on Mars was going to comereclaim them if the locals packed up and left when the sun roseover the crater rim.
The com I was talking to didn’t have any dataon that, of course. I was trying to decide what I could ask thatmight be useful when the door opened and ’Chan stepped in. Heglanced at the screen, blinked, then looked at me.
“Carlie,” he said, “what are you doing here?I thought you were on Prometheus!”
“I was,” I said. “I came back.”
“You did what?”
“I came back.”
“Why? Why would you do something stupid likethat?”
“Two reasons,” I said. “First, I got hiredfor a job that includes poking around the old place a little.Second, I wanted to get you and Dad off-planet before the sun comesup.”
“Me… and Dad? Carlie, he’s in atank. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know that, but what I don’tknow is what Seventh Heaven’s going to do with the tanks when thedawn comes. So I want to transfer him to somewhere onPrometheus.”
’Chan stared at me for a minute, and eventhough he’s my brother I couldn’t read his expression. “SeventhHeaven?” he asked. “Is that the company’s name?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You don’t remember?”
“I don’t care,” he said. “Carlie, theydumped us, remember? They didn’t want us anymore.”
“He’s still our father. Genetically, if notlegally.”
“Even assuming he is, which I would not betoo sure of, so what? He threw us away. We don’t owe himanything.”
This time I could see the hurt on ’Chan’sface just fine. I’d seen it there before often enough. I’d thoughthe’d be over it by now, the way I thought I was, but I’d obviouslymisjudged the situation.
I wasn’t going to say that directly, though.Instead I said, “I know. I want to get him out anyway.”
He stared at me for a few seconds more beforehe answered, but eventually he said, “You’re more generous than Iam. Go ahead, if you want, but it’s got nothing to do with me.”
“I was hoping you could help me findhim.”
“Me? You’re the detective, Carlie. I’m just acroupier.”
“But you know people here. I don’tanymore.”
“Carlie, I’m glad you’re free, and I’m happyto see you again, but I’m under contract to the Ginza. I can’t goanywhere or help you with anything if it would interfere with myjob.”
“That’s why I came to get you offEpimetheus.”
He didn’t try to hide his annoyance. “And howwere you going to do that? I can’t get a ticket.”
“You don’t need one. I have my own ship.”
That got his attention. “The hell youdo!”
“Fine, I don’t. I have the use of aship. My client owns it, but he’s back in American City, and I’mhere in Nightside City with his ship and crew, and they’re underorders to do what I say. I intend to get you and Dad aboard, thenget the hell off Epimetheus for good. Are you coming?”
“Who the fuck is your client? Sincewhen do you work for people with that kind of money?”
“Since I moved to Alderstadt,” I said.“Sayuri Nakada may not have been happy with me, but some of herfriends and family thought I’d done a good job. Good word of mouthmeans I get work.”
“Come on, Carlie. Anyone with his own damnspaceship can do better than you! I know you’re smart, Iknow you do an honest job, but you’re just a widget. Someone withthat kind of money can hire one of the big investigationfirms.”
It jittered me that my own brother didn’tthink I had the ram to do what I said, but I kept my temper. “Hehas reasons to keep this off the nets. You come on,’Chan-you think I’d come in here and tell you this if it weren’ttrue?”
“I don’t know, Carlie. It’s crazy, andsometimes you can be crazy.”
“Fine, then, but give me this much-come tothe port with me and take a look at the ship yourself. If there’sreally a ship, and the captain says he’ll really get youoff-planet, will you come?”
“Of course I will! You think I’m an idiot? Idon’t want to fry. I saw what you looked like after your littlestroll on the dayside. Nightside City’s going to be a fuckingmicrowave in a couple of years.”
“Then come on to the port with me and I’llshow you.”
’Chan hesitated, then admitted, “Ican’t.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. Ithought he was just being stubborn, playing the big brother whodoesn’t want his little sister taking charge. “Why not?” Idemanded. I remembered that IRC was almost certainly listening,given where we were, so I added, “I’m not asking you to skip out onyour contract. Just come out to the port, so you can see I’m notcrazy. Then you can come back here, and when I’m ready to go youcan buy yourself out, nice and legal.”
“I can’t,” he repeated.
“Why not?”
“I’m on call,” he said.
“So what?” I didn’t see how that was aproblem.
“It means I agreed to accept an implant,” heexplained. “I can’t go more than ten minutes from the casino or mylegs shut down. I can’t go as far as the port to check out yourstory. And I can’t buy out my contract-that was part of the deal,too. Like it or not, I’m here until sunrise.”