The Dreaming Void (61 page)

Bovey would hate all this, she knew, and smiled secretively at the knowledge. When one was sitting amid the faithful, such thoughts were near sacrilege. But then Bovey had a bit of a hang-up about the genuinely rich and powerful. All politicians were worthless incompetents, all billionaires corrupt criminals. It was one of those quirks she was fond of. It could be quite funny hearing his youngest self, the biological fourteen-year-old, raging about the cabinet secretary for social affairs. Mr. Bovey had the true hatred of every self-employed person for bureaucracy and the taxes it demanded to keep functioning and, worse, expanding. In her mind, fourteen-year-olds did not have adult concerns like that; it was all angst and impossible aspirations at that age. She recalled it well.

Araminta sighed warmheartedly, more loudly than she intended. She saw Likan's gaze flick in her direction, though his speech never faltered. Her lips pressed together in self-censure.

The speech was exactly what she had been expecting: plenty of motivational talk, a few anecdotes, a load of financial services product placement, and an excess of toothy smiles during the pauses for applause and laughter. Araminta even clapped along with the rest of them. It was all standard stuff, but there were some nuggets among the debris. She was interested in his early years, how to make the jump from a small operation like hers up to a more corporate level. According to Likan, advancement was all a matter of risk and how much of it one was prepared to take. He mentioned self-confidence a lot, along with determination and hard work. Araminta wondered if he'd ever met Laril. Now,
that
would be an interesting conversation.

Likan finished and was provided with a standing ovation. Araminta got to her feet with the rest of them and applauded halfheartedly. She wished he had been more specific, maybe given some case-study examples. The chairman of the Colwyn Small Business Association thanked their distinguished guest and announced that refreshments were available in the function room outside.

By the time Araminta made it out of the auditorium, her fellow small business owners were forming tight little groups to chatter away to one another while they gulped down the free drinks and canapés. From the snippets she overheard on her way to the bar, the majority ran virtual companies; talk was about expansion curves and cross-promotional market penetration and share options and when to merge. Men glanced at her as she walked past. There were welcoming smiles, even a few pings to her u-shadow, offering compliments and invitations. Her u-shadow did not respond; pings were
so
adolescent.
If you want to take me out to dinner, have the courage to ask me to my face.
She had chosen a deep turquoise dress that complemented her hair color. Strictly speaking, the neckline was low and the hem high for a business occasion, but she now had the confidence to buck convention, at least on a small level. Independence and all that exposure to Cressida had given her that.

“Pear water,” she told the barman.

“Interesting choice.”

She turned to find Likan standing behind her. For someone so rich, his appearance was puzzling. The skin on his face was slightly puffy, with flushed cheeks, as if he were permanently out of breath. His biological age was higher than usual, fixed in his late thirties rather than the mid-twenties everyone else favored. The clothes he wore were always expensive but never quite gelled, as if he got his dress sense from advertizements. His jacket with a sharkskin shimmer was chic, but not with that purple shirt and green neck twister. And the brown shoes were best worn when gardening.

“I have to work later tonight,” she said. “Can't afford lack of judgment from alcohol.”

“Good self-control. I like that.”

“Thank you,” she said levelly.

“I got the impression you weren't impressed tonight.”

People nearby were looking their way discreetly. Likan's voice was as forceful as it had been on the podium. That at least gave the impression of a strong personality.

Araminta sipped her pear water, wondering how to play this. “I was hoping for more detail,” she told him.

“What kind of detail? Come on. You paid for your ticket; you're entitled.”

“Okay, small company, doing well. Needs to step up a level. Do you reinvest profits and ride a gradual expansion with each project slightly larger than the last, or do you take a bank loan and jump ten levels.”

“How small a company?”

“One-woman band, supported by some bots.”

“Company product?”

“Property development.”

“Good choice for a start-up. High profitability relative to scale. There is a ceiling, though, especially with one person. After the first three properties there should be enough profit to take on more staff. With that you move on from one property at a time and start multiple developments. Timing for that has never been better; property is the hot item here today thanks to Living Dream.”

“Everything is relative. With that demand, a developer has to buy high.”

“Then this developer should buy a whole street that's in decline. It's a profit multiplier; the individual unit prices rise because you've taken the entire street upmarket and made it desirable.”

“That's a big step.”

“The level of risk you are prepared to undertake is proportional to your growth potential. If you don't take it, you are declaring: This far and no further. That will define your life. I don't think you want that.”

“Question: Would you advise the staff expansion be accomplished by becoming multiple?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Going multiple only seems like a solution to a solo act. Ultimately it's a lifestyle choice rather than a business one. Ask yourself what you can accomplish by being multiple that you can't by good aggressive management. You came to listen to me tonight, so I know you're already thinking ahead, thinking big. Property is a foundation stone for a corporate empire, a good one. I still have a vast property portfolio, but to achieve real market dominance you must diversify and interlock your interests. That's what Sheldon did. He used his interstellar transport monopoly as a cash source to fund industrial, commercial, and financial enterprises on a hundred worlds. At the time of the Starflyer War he was effectively emperor of the Commonwealth.”

“Do you want to be our emperor?”

“Yes.”

Araminta was slightly shaken by his bluntness. She thought he was somehow calling her bluff. “Why?”

“Because it's a position where you can do whatever you want. The ultimate freedom. Isn't that what we all strive for?”

“With power comes responsibility.”

“That's what politicians tell you when they want your vote. There's a difference between political power and financial power, especially out here in the External worlds. I'd like to demonstrate that to you.”

“How would you do that?”

“Come and stay with me at my home for a weekend. See firsthand what I've achieved. Decide if that's what you want for yourself.”

“What about your wives?” It was common knowledge how staunchly committed he was to replicating his idol's ideology and life, including, or perhaps especially, the harem.

“What about them?”

“Won't they mind my visit?”

“No. They'll be joining us in bed.”

That'll teach me; you can't be more direct to my face than that.
She was pleased with the way she kept her reaction in check: no startled expression, no giveaway body language—squaring the shoulders, straightening the back. In effect she was telling him she could hold her own against him any day. “I accept,” she said as if it were some kind of request to review financial statements.

“I knew I was right about you,” he said.

“In what way?”

“You know yourself; you know what you want. That's always dangerous.”

“To whom?”

“To everyone else. That's what makes you so desirable.”

“Win-win, then,” she mocked.

The
Alexis Denken
slid comfortably into the big airlock at the base of the Raiel dome stalk. Behind it, the stars vanished as the wall materialized again. Paula stood up, pulled wrinkles out of her suit jacket self-consciously, and straightened her spine. The
High Angel
teleported her into Qatux's private chamber. Raiel homes traditionally were split into three sections: public, residence, and private. One had to be a very good friend indeed to be invited beyond the public. The circular chamber had a pale blue floor, and in keeping with tradition, the ceiling was invisible somewhere overhead. Around her, silver and gray walls rippled as if water were flowing down them, yet there was no sound, no dampness in the air. Beyond the cavorting surface, images of planetscapes and strange galaxies writhed insubstantially. However, one image remained firm and clear: a human face that Paula knew only too well.

She inclined her head to the big alien who occupied the center of the chamber.

“Paula, I rejoice that you are here.”

“It's been a long time, Qatux. How are you?”

“I am well. If I were a human, I would be fit.”

“I am glad.”

“I have risen to the
High Angel
's fifth echelon.”

“How many are there?”

“Five.”

Paula laughed. She had forgotten Qatux's sly humor. “So you're the captain, then.”

“I have that honor.”

“Congratulations.”

“And you, Paula; do you continue to prosper?”

“I continue to be very busy. For me that's about the same thing.”

“That is to be expected. There are few of your species who remain in their bodies for as long as you have.”

“It's also why I'm here. I need information.”

“Just like the good old days. How intriguing.”

Paula cocked her head to one side as she regarded the big alien. That phrase was slightly out of kilter. Qatux's eye clusters remained steady on her. Long ago it never would have been so bold as to tease her. But then long ago it had been something of a wreck, until the Far Away mission had come along. Of course, she had been very different then, too. “The starship
Alini
has just visited the Raiel dome. Can you tell me if these people were on board?” Her u-shadow retrieved image files for Aaron and Corrie-Lyn.

“They were,” Qatux whispered.

“What did they want?”

“I believe their mission was confidential.”

She gave her old friend a shrewd glance, not liking the conclusions she was drawing. “It was you who saw them, wasn't it?”

“Yes.” The bottom set of tentacle limbs shivered slightly, the Raiel equivalent of a blush.

“Qatux, did you review Inigo's memories?”

“I did.”

“Why?” she asked, genuinely concerned. “I thought that had stopped centuries ago. Tiger …” she could not finish. Her gaze was drawn to the face suspended behind the wall. Tiger Pansy's silly carefree grin looked hauntingly back at her, obviously captured at a moment when the woman had been blissfully happy.

“I know,” the Raiel whispered. “It is not a return to my addiction, I assure you. There would be few Raiel indeed who could refuse the opportunity of experiencing Inigo's mind. He dreams the Void, Paula. The Void! That evil enigma bedevils us to a degree which humans will never appreciate.”

“All right.” Paula ran her hand back through her hair, making an effort to ignore the uncomfortable personal side effects the case was kicking up. “Inigo's memorycell was stolen from a clinic on Anagaska. Why did you help Aaron?”

“I did not know the memories were stolen. He arrived in an ultradrive starship. It was intimated that he was a representative of ANA: Governance. In truth, he never confirmed that. I am sorry. I believe I was
had.
How stupid; me of all Raiel. The deception was quite simple.”

“Don't beat yourself up over it. Happens to the best of us. So what did he want to know?”

“He asked me to guess where Inigo might be.”

“Clever man, which is curious in itself. There aren't many humans who knew of your little problem. One of them must have joined up with a faction. So what did you tell him?”

“I guessed Inigo might be on Hanko.”

“Hanko? But it's just a radioactive ruin.” She stopped, examining the idea. “But Earth aside, it is his ethnic birthworld. Still, an odd choice.”

“Are you aware he was born Higher?”

“No, I was not! That has never been on any file. Are you sure?”

Qatux's biggest tentacles waved in agitation. “I am forty years of his early life, Paula. Through me you are talking to the young Inigo.”

“If ANA: Governance and I didn't know, then its pretty certain very few other people did, either. That changes his whole profile. No wonder nobody could ever find him. As a Higher he has much greater personal resources.”