James Hogan - Entoverse

Baumer drew a long breath and nodded curtly. “Very well. I’ll do whatever I can. But you must try and make them understand that I can’t promise.”

A tone sounded from a panel by Baumer’s desk. “What is it?” he inquired, turning his head.

The house-system’s synthetic voice replied. “The writer who wanted to talk to you is outside: Gina Marin.”

“Oh, she is? Just one moment.” Baumer looked back at the Jevlenese. “As you can see, I do have other things to attend to. Was there anything else?”

Lesho swung his legs down from the desk and stood up. “Just don’t forget that other Terrans in PAC might like their trips, too. And there’s more of them arriving.”

The Jevlenese in the brown suit straightened up and opened the door just as Gina appeared on the other side of it. Lesho stopped to peer down at Baumer’s desk. “Is that the one I messed up?” he inquired, pointing at a sheet of paper with a heelmark on it. It was on the top of a thin wad of printout.

“Yes. I’d just run it off,” Baumer said testily as he rose to his feet.

Lesho screwed it up and tossed it into the bin. “Well, looks like you needed to do another copy anyhow.” He turned away, nodded toward the door, and sauntered out behind his companion.

Baumer came around to usher Gina inside, and then closed the door. He indicated the seat that Lesho had used and returned to his own side of the desk.

“I apologize for that,” he said stiffly. “As a sociologist one must be prepared for all types of people.”

“I suppose so.” Gina sat down. “Thanks for fitting me in at short notice. You seem busy.” Her phrasing was the code to switch on the miniature voice recorder, supplied by Del Cullen, that was concealed inside the fold of her collar.

“It’s a busy time. There’s a lot to do here.” Baumer’s manner reverted to cool. He didn’t know what this was about, and he wasn’t prepared at this stage to commit to a lot of time.

“I’ve only seen a little, but I think I know what you mean.”

“You’ve just come to Jevlen, I think you said?”

“That’s right-with the Vishnu. It’s all a bit mind-blowing. I guess I haven’t gotten used to Ganymeans yet. How long have you been here yourself?”

“Almost five months, now.”

“Time enough to find your way around?”

“It depends what you want to find… You said you’re some kind of writer?”

Gina nodded. “Books on subjects of topical interest. Right now, I’m planning one on historical figures who were Jevlenese agents-known or possible. I don’t know if you’ve kept in touch with the popular stuff that’s been coming out on Earth, but the amount of nonsense is unbelievable. I wanted to get the record straight, and this seemed to be the place to start. So here I am.”

“Jevlenese intervention in history. Famous figures who might have been agents…” Baumer repeated. His English was clearly articulated, with the barest hint of an accent. He had pale, delicate features, which were accentuated by thin lips, a narrow, tapering chin, and heavy, horn-rimmed spectacles, giving him a youthful look for his years. An untidy mop of light brown hair and the mottled gray sweater that he was wearing enhanced the studentlike image. But the eyes regarding Gina through the lenses were cool and remote, and the hard set of his mouth infused his expression with a hint of disdain. It was the kind of look he might have used to dismiss a saleslady who had been given her chance.

He stared down at the desk; a loose wave of hair flopped down over his forehead, and he brushed it aside with a hand. “I’m not sure I can help,” he said. “The kind of history that I think you mean isn’t my line.”

“I hadn’t assumed it was,” Gina answered. “But I was hoping that you might have some suggestions on how I should go about it-some thoughts on possible contacts, maybe. You’ve had a lot longer to find your way around.”

Clearly Baumer was preoccupied with other things and did not want to get involved. But Gina had her objectives, too. She had been scanning the office with her eyes ever since she sat down. It was bare and dusty, with little in the way of immediate evidence as to the kind of thing he did there. She got the impression that this was not where he spent most of his time away from PAC.

Her gaze came back to the companel by the desk. Baumer wasn’t equipped with Ganymean communications accessories for interacting with ZORAC. The man she had heard talking when she arrived had been Jevlenese, and the translations of his and Baumer’s voices-into German, she had noted-had come from the panel.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“What?”

She motioned toward the panel. “Those Jevlenese who were here when I came in-the one who was talking was being translated through there. But I was told that VISAR doesn’t extend out into the city. And JEVEX isn’t supposed to be running. So what was doing it? Do you have stand-alone systems here that can do that kind of thing?”

“You are observant, Ms. Marin,” Baumer said, conceding a nod. “No, none of those. The Ganymeans have connected ZORAC into the regular comnet. You can get a translation facility on channel fifty-six. It’s handy-we can talk to the Jevlenese anywhere.”

“What’s ZORAC?” Gina asked to keep up her image, at the same time crossing imaginary fingers that ZORAC wouldn’t recognize her and return some wisecrack. But either Baumer had switched the channel off, or only a subset of ZORAC’s capacity was available to the public net, or it was programmed with enough manners to know when to keep quiet-Gina had not learned enough about it, yet, to know which.

“The Ganymean computer aboard the Shapieron,,” Baumer replied. “It doesn’t play straight into your head like the Thurien computers do.” He waved a hand. “Oh, I’m not really conversant with these technical matters. It needs microphones, screens, and things. You’ll find out about it when you meet some of the people in PAC.”

“That’s Planetary Administration Center, right?”

“Yes. Perhaps you should try and get to see some of the Ganymeans on Garuth’s staff-theoretically he is in charge of everything.”

“Yes, I know.”

Baumer frowned down at the desk and shook his head in thinly disguised irritation. “You really should have got more of an agenda arranged before you came.” He reached for a pad and picked up a pen. “Anyway, his chief scientist is a woman called Shiohin-”

“A Ganymean, you mean?”

“Yes. She should be of some help. She’s involved with a number of Jevlenese and Terrans who are investigating alleged agents on Earth.” He scribbled a few lines. “Those are a couple of other names that work under her. And here are a few of the Jevlenese that it might be worth your while approaching. This last one, Reskedrom, was quite high up in the Federation while it lasted, and should be useful-but he’s not easy to get to. Your best bet would be to start at COJA: Coordinating Office for Jevlenese Affairs-that’s a department inside PAC. They keep lists and charts of who’s what and where, and everything that’s going on.” Baumer finished writing, tore off the top sheet of the pad, and pushed it across. “That should help. But otherwise, I don’t think I have very much to offer, I’m afraid.”

Gina took the slip and put it in a pocket. “Thanks anyway. I did meet a bunch of UNSA people on the ship, but they’re really only coming here to look into Ganymean science. They’re tied up setting up their labs, anyhow, so I don’t have anyone to show me around.” She paused to give Baumer time to react if he chose. He didn’t. Still reluctant to let it go at that, Gina waited a few seconds longer, and then inquired, “What do you do here that keeps you so busy?”