Элизабет Мун - Into the Fire

“It’s got classified—”

“I understand that. She says you hold a high enough security rating to take charge of it. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Mac said, after a glance at Grace. “But I don’t have a proper carrier.”

“We do. It’ll be bulkier than the usual: full nutrient bath, oxygenator, power supply, so it’ll be ready to go back in when she’s ready. I would prefer you stay in the room when it comes time to remove it, so there’s a chain of control.”

“Absolutely,” Mac said. “Will you do that right now, or do I have time to inform the Rector’s closest relatives?”

Maillard shook her head. “The longer we wait the more chance of irreversible damage that will affect her quality of life. Every fifteen minutes matters. You can call them during the procedures, as long as you do not leave this facility and maintain control of her implant. If things go as planned, it should take no more than eight hours—preferably only five or six—and she’ll be ready for reimplantation sometime after midnight.”

“Please,” Grace said, glancing at Mac.

“I’ll be here,” Mac said. “And I’ll stay. We have that other situation under control, Rector, don’t worry about it. I’ll have a complete report for you when you’re ready.”

She was ready now, except that she wasn’t; she felt dull, heavy, aware at some merely physical level of something wrong inside. And the fear gnawed at her, fear she did not want to admit.

Benny Quindlan faced his uncle’s senior operations officer over the smaller desk in his uncle’s outer office.

“That was the stupidest thing you could have done,” he said.

“You’re calling your uncle stupid?”

“You’re telling me he ordered it?” Benny was almost sure his uncle hadn’t.

“Not exactly ordered it.” Maxim Furness had started to sweat; Benny could see the shine on his face. “But he wanted her out of the way.”

“And she’s not. And she knows, and the military knows, and all Vatta knows that someone had access to a quaternary poison gas that is supposed to exist in only two military facilities on the entire planet. Where the inventory can be checked, and probably already has been.”

“It could’ve been Kvannis; he hates her enough.”

“It could have been but it wasn’t—it was us. You, rather.”

“She’ll be out of her office for several tendays, if she even survives. And already the confusion there has enabled us to make some inroads in her security. We’ll get more—”

“Which will be found and healed by those ISC techs she’s got staying with her.”

“Ah, but they’re illegals now. They overstayed their visa.”

“And you know that because—”

“Because we have contacts in Customs & Immigration, just like every other commercial giant on this planet.”

“Even so—” Benny began when the outer door opened and his uncle, silver-haired and impressive as always in his perfectly tailored clothes, arrived for the day’s business. He and Max both stood.

“Good morning, Max; good morning, Benny.” Michael Quindlan gave them each a polite nod. “Ben, my office.”

Benny gave Max a look that he hoped was half as commanding as his uncle’s, and followed Michael into his office. The desk there was big enough for two men to lie down on. Michael waved him to a chair, the better of the two that sat before the desk.

“Sit down, sit down. I’m glad you’re here this morning. We have several situations to discuss that I would prefer not to do over any phone.” His uncle pulled out and set up on the desk a security cylinder and thumbed it on. Lights along one side blinked green, one after another. “What were you talking to Max about?”

“Using gas at Rector Vatta’s house.”

“Ah. And your view on that?”

Now he was on the microscope slide, exposed under his uncle’s flinty eye. “I think it was a bad mistake,” he said. Michael nodded permission to go on. Benny gave his reasons.

“Good analysis,” Michael said, at the end. “I had intended to start this morning by saying much the same to Max, but you have saved me the trouble.” He grinned, more feral than humorous. “All I’ll need to say is Benny was right. And assess him a fine.” He paused, opened a drawer, and pulled out a neatly bound folder. “I think it’s time you took a look at this.” He pushed it across the desk.

Benny picked it up. “Project 43.36?”

“Yes. Do you recognize the code?”

“No, Uncle.”

“Good. It’s not in any of the usual sequences. Tell me: what do you know about Miksland?”

“What we were taught: a terraforming failure, barren, just rock and ice. Not worth worrying about with all the fertile land we have without it. Until recently, when suddenly it seems there’s a military base on it, some question about what else is there, and I’ve seen a fuzzy image of some kind of big hairy animal with tusks—”

“Where?”

“One of those conspiracy sites you asked me to keep an eye on.”

“Right. Well. In fact, it’s not a terraforming failure, it’s not barren, and—though it’s not widely known—it belongs to us.”

“Belongs—?”

“To us. The Quindlan family. We… managed to tack that claim onto a rather bulky piece of legislation about the time a connection of our family determined that it had potential.”

Benny stared at his uncle. “The whole… continent belongs to us?”

“Yes. In rather convoluted language, and nobody seems to have noticed, but yes. We have… er… encouraged the belief that it’s worthless rock, but in fact there are valuable mineral deposits and… you can look at the file for the rest. Now that others have noticed it exists, we need to make our claim public and decide what to do from here on—and I want you to bring me some proposals. We’re meeting—all the seniors in the family—the day after tomorrow.”

“But sir—Uncle—what about the military presence?”

“Long story; read the file. It’s data-dense, and it has keys that will get you into the files stored in our servers at Portmentor. Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t,” Benny said. At his uncle’s nod, he rose—his knees feeling a bit unsteady—and went to the door. Max was still in the outer office; behind him he heard his uncle’s voice calling, “Come on in, Max!”

Benny’s own office was down two floors, and his com light was blinking when he arrived. His sister Linny, he noted on the screen. He slid the folder into his office safe and locked it, then sat down at his desk.

“What did he want?” was Linny’s first question. “Did he give you the promotion?”

“No. He was annoyed with Max for that operation against Grace Vatta.”

“That viper,” Linny said. “It should’ve killed her.”

“Lin. It didn’t kill her and it could have repercussions on the family. Using a rare weapon isn’t the smartest choice. We’re not supposed to have that stuff.”

“We’re not supposed to have a lot of things,” Linny said. She was, Benny reflected, the most openly bloodthirsty and action-oriented Quindlan of his immediate family, and he wished she’d been tamed before she’d become his responsibility.

“Lin. You’re still fourth tier. Do not start anything.”

“Oh, big brother’s going to scooold me? I’m so scared.”

“Big brother is telling you not to buck first tier unless you want to spend the next two years counting barnacles on the dock on one of the smaller islands.”

“Uncle Mike wouldn’t do that. He likes me. He likes me better than you.”

“That may be, but he doesn’t like anyone to cross him.”