Forge of Heaven

“You’re sure.”

“I hesitate to claim the pieces have all gone into recycling. I think Kekellen’s taken them for his own investigations.”

“Even the—” He hesitated at the question. “The remains.”

“That first. Cleaner-bots have fairly well demolished the place, and police aren’t going in there, not yours and not mine.”

Bots, for God’s sake.

“Kekellen is involved to the hilt,”Brazis said through Jewel’s lips. “The fact the local street moved to reject this illicit cell—I think that may have communicated to him. A demonstration of honesty. Kekellen’s extremely keen on honesty.”

It was the theory—that Kekellen had settled on Marak for that reason. “The honest man,” Reaux said.

“Kekellen’s seemed to have picked out alocally honest man, too—if the notion holds up.”

Astonishing that he couldn’t think of an honest man. Not offhand. He certainly didn’t think it was Brazis. Or himself. “Who?”

“Our young fugitive.”

“Procyon?” He was a little stu

But he didn’tlike the ondat’s honest man being an Outsider.

“He’s not the only one.”Brazis said further. “If we can count Mr. Gide.”

“Mr. Gide? Oh, I doubt that.”

“But there is a tap. A nanocele tap. Hospital could tell that in two seconds. The question is, whose. But I think it’s much the same as Procyon’s situation, however delivered.”

Reaux’s heart sullenly doubled its beats. “But why?”

“My young gentleman, Mr. Stafford, hasn’t gotten to the office yet, and I don’t think he’ll have any clearer idea than I have. I’ve been a little careful about contacting him by tap, speaking quite frankly, because we very surely have an intruder in our system, including the one I’m using now.”

“An—”

“Listen to me all the way on this one, Setha, and take it for what it is. Cleaner-bots. The bot system comes and goes, does it not? Our friend Kekellen has inserted his own robots through his own system of accesses, bots to mix with ours. Young Mr. Stafford is wearing a mark that we may not be able to purge, and he’s attended particularly by a repair bot that won’t leave his vicinity. I had the tap system completely shut down for a significant period of time, and we’re still getting information on a rogue tap somewhere in the system. I’m convinced he’s part of it. And I’m suspecting fairly soon we’ll have a second one.”

“Mr. Gide.”

“He’s not savvy of it, not yet. He won’t be, for a while. Procyon’s fairly expert at handling complex taps, and he’s bringing sensible communication through with far less trouble. But that’s not the whole point. Kekellen himself seems to be communicating through those two taps—having one internal to himself.”

“Good God,” Reaux said, appalled. “What do we do, then?”

“Wait and see. That’s all I can recommend.”

“But Kekellen—”

“He’s had abundant reason to complain. We may have settled it. The street may have settled it. And if that fails, Mr. Stafford may be a valuable asset in settling the difficulty. We’ve never had direct communication with theondat.”

“And Mr. Gide? He’s not qualified. He’s not prepared for this…”

“In a sense it’s what eight-year-old kids get done, in our society. Well, excluding the alien intelligence aspect of it. Mr. Gide should find it an interesting experience.”

“If you can say so,” Reaux said with a shudder. In the life-globe, an anole had climbed the highest branch, lording it over the others. “Intimate contact with Kekellen isn’t what I’d call an interesting experience.”

“Another tap system. We share one with pop culture. One with the planet. One, it seems, we now share with theondat, in the head of a Project tap. We’re in for a period of adjustment. I think Mr. Gide may be able to communicate a new fact of existence to the authorities that backed this venture.”

“If his sanity holds out.” He remembered a recent communication. “I’ve received an official protest over Mr. Gide’s transfer to your hospital. Shall I relay your advisement to his ship, about his condition, and its probable source?”

“Oh, by all means. I think it’s time to do that.”

It was going to be a tense moment, as that ship realized that, with all he knew, Mr. Gide had had a tap implanted, and not by Outsider choice, and not in contact with humans.

But there wasn’t a thing a political faction on distant Earth could do about the situation except keep quiet and study the damage a stranded Mr. Gide could do to their political secrets, in close communication with colonials, Outsiders, and ondat.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised Brazis.

Jewel gave a little nod, indication the interview was over.

“Thank you,” Reaux said to her, but he wasn’t sure she heard, on her way to the door.

He didn’t know what he was going to tell Judy. It wasn’t hair color they were talking about, now. It was a daughter down on Blunt—a daughter on Grozny, if they were lucky. A daughter who wasn’t going to go back into the best schools.

A daughter who was very soon going to be notorious in her former social circles.

But still his daughter. Kathy. Mignette. He didn’t know about Judy, but she was still—after all—his daughter.

RAIN SHEETED, poured down sandy washes, spattered off the rocks, soaked wherever the rain-skins failed to protect—a modern convenience against a modern nuisance, these brown plastic covers, and Marak, disdaining a good many of Ian’s conveniences, was glad to have warmth and dryness about them, glad to have the saddles under them kept dry, along with the girths, which took a deal of stress on their slow climb.

They moved, with occasional encouragement from the long quirts. They had moved all through the night, having the young fool ahead of them, driven upward by the wrath of the old bull Marak rode, and the disgruntled females following their laborious path up the cliffs…following, because beshti stuck together, give or take riders’ intentions, in a vast and otherwise empty land.

And gradually the rock and sand that had appeared only in lightning flashes began to be visible between flashes. It became a sullen sort of morning, gray, wet and noisy with the boom of thunder and the rush of the deluge. Water still poured in diminishing torrents from above, newborn streams rushing down cha

But they were alive, and they kept moving to keep warm and to keep safe, climbing up the way they had come down, or finding new ways, where rain had badly cha

Up by the difficult series of three terraces, while the light grew, with a little rest, then, sheltered from the wind by an outcrop of basalt.

Marak had no watcher at all this morning. Neither did Hati. But they had Ian, who inquired frequently and cautiously after their progress.

“As good as might be,” Marak said, informing Ian as little as possible. He was still angry, still asking himself what he would do in response.

Ian would make peace with Luz. Possibly they would become lovers again, possibly not. How both of them would regard the Ila for the next while was a matter of concern, until matters settled out. He was closely evaluating his opinion of Brazis.

“Procyon is safe and asleep,”Ian told him finally. “The ones responsible in the heavens are dead.”

“Is Brazis?” Marak asked harshly. He by no means exonerated Brazis, among others.

“Brazis is still directing matters. He asks me to relay his profound apology, and his gratitude for your patience.”