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He should feel thwarted, frustrated, even doubtful. He felt none of that, but
only self-castigation: bringing that
Tabrizi had been his mistake.
He rid himself of the little man and his own bodyguard as soon as possible,
and went seeking through streets full of Marada's black-and-reds for Softa
Spry, his abstracted gaze immune to Acheron's beauty as it passed by his
transport's windows. This, like his data pool code-ins and his driver, had
been assigned to him by Chaeron's con-
sulate. Doubtless, every query he had made and every visit he had paid were
duly noted, analyzed, and inter-
preted by the proconsul's staff, many of whom, Bucyrus's intelligencers
asserted, were fanatically loyal. He could see why; out the window he spied no
sign of disorder, no strain, no anxiety. If this was, as Chaeron had
intimated, an occupation force, then it was the most civilized puni-
tive investment he had ever seen in a disputed habita-
tional sphere.
Chaeron's data-sources were strange to him, their ma-
nipulation subtly different than those with which he was familiar. Modem, as
everything about Acheron was mod-
ern. Eclectic. Finally, after three false fixes on Spry, he leaned forward and
tapped the glass. The dark-haired driver whos brows met over his eyes grinned
and sug-
gested trying the pilot's guildhall. Bucyrus had long ago learned that once
one asks an intelligencer, one is bound to take his advice. "Son, I might have
a little trouble getting in there. Can you clear it?"
244
JANET MORRIS
"Sir, you have the proverbial privilege. My orders were to let you sit
anywhere you want."
"In David Spry's lap, if you can manage it."
"Yes, sir."
"Let's drop the formalities, Intelligencer, You've got a name, so do I." By
the time he reached the pilotry guildhall, Bucyrus was feeling a little
younger and a little sharper and a little envious. The intelligencers Chaeron
ran were top-flight. He had recognized this one as Terry
Ward, Tempest's protege, from the dossiers his own peo-
ple had supplied him. But he had never expected to be able to draw him out or
to receive a heartfelt offer of assistance over and above chauffeuring. One
wouldn't like to think that in this calm and carefully controlled sphere a
high-powered bodyguard would be needed, but it was nice to be provided for,
especially when one is about to enter the no-man's-land of a pilotry
guildhall.
David Spry was brainstorming AXV program modifica-
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tions with three shipwrights in the one truly functional pay privacy booth in
Acheron's guildhall.
"... I still don't see how this'll keep somebody with illicitly-acquired
access comes from stealing command ca-
pability. We isolated the master module in Tyche, Softa, but that didn't mean
the unit stayed discrete when the
Marada "
"Does a sun have spots?" Spry asked rhetorically.
"Does a gravity wave collision create a spongelike sin-
gularity? A phase-shift chosen at random before each flight will increase the
probability of an interloper en-
countering wave collison in the matrix, and sounding an alarm. We'll know if
someone is trying to appropriate control of the system. Beyond That "
"Beyond that, these buffers mean that we won't have cruiser-intellect on-line
in the corn-circuits. They'll be acting as passive conduits. It cuts down the
security prob-
lems and the information print-through. Sofia's right. If we're going to
isolate these systems, let's go all the way and specialize the circuits so
that they've as little as possi-
ble to do with cruiser . . . computations," said the second shipwright,
smaller and thinner than the first, with sparse red hair where the other's was
black. Except for these
245
EARTH DREAMS
differences, the khaki-clad engineers could have been twins.
The third heavy, hairy, and most savvy of the three
was frowning. "Softa, I like this approach, really I do. I
know damn well why you want it, and why the boss would jump at a chance to
make these modifications if he beard we could do it, but I wonder if we can do
it, and retain the integrity of our system. We're cutting the B-
mode off from the other computers, little by little. No-
body knows how that's going to affect the system's deci-
sion-making on the long term."
"I just want to make sure that they don't start overrid-
ing us puny humans, that's all. I didn't fancy being carted in here like the
outmoded outboard I'm fast becoming. A
person's got to be able to claim that he's the pilot. Other-
wise, automate the cruisers completely. Take out the idiot buttons and the
manual override. I don't think you people realize what you've got here. If
you'd think about it some. . . ."
A soft chime sounded. The, monitor above the door showed Spry the pair
seeking\access. He grimaced.
"Guys, let's adjourn. Do some simulations and permu-
tate the schematics, and let's get some-numbers for com-
parison. I don't know about you three, but I'm ready to graduate from 'what
ifs' to 'what's whats.' We've got to look more deeply into what is happening
here ... I don't mind consulting, but I'm no prophet. And my shadow's back."
He indicated the intelligencer in the monitor, be-
low which a little red light had begun blinking.
When the shipwrights had departed and the intel-
ligencer had escorted the portly consul general into the little booth and
pulled back a chair for him, Spry looked from one to the other sourly. "What
is this, Andy? Are you under close arrest?"
"Nothing like that, David. This is my "
"I know what he is. Go catch some criminals. Ward.
There's nothing going to be said here worth repeating while you're around."
"Spry, I'm watching out for the consul general."
"Do it from outside. I won't hurt him. Scout's honor."
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When the intelligencer had left, and the monitor showed
246
JANET MORRIS
him postioned at technical ease on their portal, Bucyrus began to speak.
Spry stopped him. "Don't you realize that there is no such thing as privacy?
You think he hasn't got an ear in on this? Chaeron used to be Draconis consul.
When he and Gahan Tempest put Acheron's specs together, they planned for
every "
"It's unimportant, David. And if you'll stop objecting, this won't take very
long."
"Did you work something our with Chaeron? Because if you did, you'd better not
tell me about it. I'm just making myself useful until Marada's goons cart me
off to
Draconis to pay for my sins what few of them they've got on record. Do me a
favor and don't tell 'em anything they don't already know."
Bucyrus urged his jowls into a smile, then scowled, sit-
ting heavily. "What kind of crap is this? I heard the same sort of garbage
from the proconsul. You can't expect me to believe that you've thrown in the
towel, too!"
Softa shrugged. "Believe it, don't believe it. I can't blow my nose here
without somebody collecting the tissue for 'evidential analysis.' I shouldn't
even be seen with somebody like you. Kerrions can count, you know."
"So can I. And you're seven cruisers in the hole to me, as it "
"Don't say that."
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