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The request for your presence was put out by the Nuel ambassador to
Terra."
The officer paused as one of his subordinates whispered to him. He nodded
once, looked toward Swift.
"I think you'd better come along too, sir."
"Me?" The programmer took a step backward. "I haven't done anything. I
haven't even been told anything." He looked askance at his alien visitor.
Chaheel felt sorry for him. "He came here saying he had some information he
wanted to give me. You broke in on us before..."
"Please calm down, sir. It's only procedure. Nothing's going to happen to
you."
"But I have work to attend to today, and tomorrow my presence will be required
at..."
"They don't tell guys like me much, sir," said the officer, "but from some of
the word coming down, there are people high up in the government who think
there may not _be_ a tomorrow."
Chaheel noted that they brought along the man's mate, too. Outside the house
was a small, if decorously dispersed, army. Someone was badly worried about
something.
Down the river and then by marcar tube to Caracas. From there, via superfast
suborbital aircraft, to the capital city of Sao Paulo. Chaheel's mind was
spinning as fast as the turbines in the aircraft's engines.
The Nuel ambassador wanted him, not Loo-Macklin, not the Terran government,
not the Board of Operators. If Loo-Macklin was not involved in this business
somehow then what did the ambassador want with Chaheel Riens?
And why bring along two ordinary, innocent humans? On the chance they might
have heard something? Heard what? What was going on?
His thoughts were still unsorted when the aircraft touched down on the broad
landing plain outside the megalopolis of Sao Paulo. Ground transport whisked
them at dangerous speed into the heart of the immense city. The Board of
Operators functioned here, overseeing the decisions of the Master Computer,
which made critical civic decisions for every one of the eighty-three worlds.
Machine and attendants were housed in a gigantic pyramidal structure
overlooking the distant Mato Grosso. By satellite relay the Master Computer
was tied to two dozen other massive computing installations scattered across
the surface of Terra. The capacity of the two dozen exceeded that of the
Master Computer. Their job was to work in unison to compose the questions,
which were to be put to the Board of Operators.
Somewhere inside the bowels of that tower of knowledge worked the thirty men
and women, operating in shifts of ten, who composed the Board of
Operators. They were chosen by competitive testing every two years and held
their positions for four-year terms. They were the decision-makers, or so the
population thought of them. Actually they were no more than nurses, or perhaps
glorified mechanics, attending to the needs of the Master Computer. But even
in this day and age there were those who grew uncomfortable at the thought of
having their lives run by a machine, however capable. So responsibility was
attributed to the Board, which accepted it as simply another duty.
Chaheel began to grow excited. There were possibilities here. Never mind poor,
confused Oxford Swift. Here he might have the chance to corner and unburden
himself to a truly important human, perhaps even one of the thirty
Operators themselves. If the opportunity presented itself he would certainly
seize it, no matter how his armed escort might react.
The pyramid rose three hundred and twenty stories into the subtropical sky.
Its crown vanished into the clouds that swirled in off the Atlantic. They
entered via a back service entrance so as not to disturb the usual crowds at
the main entryways with the sight of armed men.
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High-speed elevators lifted them to rarified heights. At the two hundred and
eightieth floor they slowed and stopped, exiting into an endless room
dominated by half a dozen multistory-high viewscreens. Currently each was
filled with complex plottings and mathematical readouts. Humans in multihued
uniforms wandered busily through the auditorium. There was an air of
expectancy as well as confusion among them.
The armed party, which had been shedding personnel step by step, was met by a
high officer. He exchanged military gestures with the officer in charge and
they conversed for a few minutes. The man and woman were shunted politely but
firmly off to one side.
"What's going to happen to us?" Oxford Swift was yelling. "I have to be at
work ... I want to see my attorney! I'm an eighth status ...!"
No one paid him the least attention. Chaheel still felt sympathy for the
biped. He'd been unwittingly drawn into something he did not understand.
Well, he had company.
Suddenly, his skirt jouncing impressively as he oozed forward, and his
exquisite silver and purple tunic being woven by no less than a dozen _el_
working at such speed that he appeared to be covered by steadily changing
pictures, there was Piark Triquelmuraz, ambassador to Terra and special envoy
to the Board of Operators of the eighty-three worlds of the UTW.
He was overbearingly large, no taller than Chaheel but much wider. The
Nuel had a tendency to grow out instead of up. Their cartilaginous internal
supports could not handle great height, but did very well with distributed
weight. His cilia were invisible beneath the many folds of his abdominal
skirt, and green-flecked eyes both focused appraisingly on Chaheel.
Two assistants accompanied him; one a Nuel subambassador, the other a human.
"Chaheel Riens," Piark huffed importantly.
"First Father Ambassador," replied Chaheel, executing the greeting one
reserves for a much-honored elder. "I would know why I am brought here,
truly?"
"Shortly you shall. We have been searching for you for some time, ever since
you unexpectedly fled the worlds of the Families. Fortunately, there are not
even today all that many of us working within the UTW and most of us are
located on the large industrial worlds. Your alias did not slow us, but your
surgical alterations did. Providential that you were so near, yet that
doubtless cost us time. I did not think to look for you under my skirt."
"I had reason to be there," Chaheel replied tersely. "No reason longer to
conceal my purpose. I expect you know of it already?"
"You came here to apprise the human government of possible collusion between
Kee-yes vain Lewmaklin the industrialist and an alien race known as the
Tremovan."
"I could not have better said it myself, First Father Ambassador."
"You see, psychologist, though your accusations were disregarded when you made
them, they were not completely forgotten. They were properly filed and stored.
When the present situation began to develop, there were those entrusted with [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]