The Mutant Prime (6 page)

The Emory Foundation seal filled the screen. Then it dissolved to the image of Tavia Emory, dressed in golden silk and smiling her predatory smile. Her eyes twinkled with golden light.

“I didn’t know she was mutant,” Narlydda said.

“She’s not.”

“Narlydda,” Tavia said, “Now that you’re part of the Emory family …”

Like hell, Narlydda thought.

“… I wanted to personally invite you to come visit. We’ll be holding a small reception in your honor on the twelfth, to celebrate the Moonstation commission. I’m very excited about this work, and I hope to discuss it with you. I’m sure many of your admirers will be on hand. And perhaps we’ll be able to arrange a little surprise.” She seemed to look away, off camera for a moment. Then she was back, focused like a bird of prey. “Until the twelfth. …” Tavia Emory faded away.

Narlydda reached for a fresh stylus. “Please convey my regrets to Mrs. Emory,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Even if I planned to go out, I’d hardly be interested in some silly reception in the desert. Tell her thank you, but I’m just too busy in the studio. Mrs. Emory should know that I never attend these things.”

“You spurn Tavia at your own risk,” Yosh said.

“Tavia? You sound as if you know her quite well.”

“I do.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Then Yosh looked down.

“She usually gets her way,” he said.

Narlydda crossed her arms. “So do I.”

Michael Ryton stared at the federal summons blinking on his deskscreen. He was being “invited” to attend an investigation into the Moonstation disaster on Monday, January 5, at Armstrong Airbase.

A preliminary head hunt, he thought. And they’ve just gotten around to me.

“Legal,” he said. “And transmit screen message.”

The deskscreen bisected the image field, retaining the summons in the lower half. Above it, Bill Sutherland’s ruddy face appeared.

“Trouble, Mike?”

“You see the summons.”

Sutherland nodded. “So your hunch was right. Too bad. Well, let’s see.” He leaned back in his chair, studying the screen. “As far as I can tell, you’re probably in the clear. But your old man is damned lucky he’s in the storehouse.”

“You may be alone in that opinion.”

“Hardly. Best defense these days.”

“You mean he could be held liable for the disaster? How?”

“Well, let’s just say that the record of his lobbying efforts to reduce safety regs for space engineering would make a convenient noose.”

“But he was right! Dammit, Bill, those regulations were ridiculous. A waste of time and taxpayers’ money, more cosmetic than effective. Besides, they didn’t even relate to this project.”

Sutherland shrugged. “With enough safeguards, the dome might not have blown, right? Even if nobody in the business would have manufactured that many fall-back systems. I’m a lawyer, not a space engineer, but I know how Federal investigators think. Where were the safeguards? And after the reporters are finished with you, what’s left won’t be worth much in this industry. When the dust settles, the Koreans will be the only ones building domes. You’d better come up with a rock-solid defense of the manufacturing process and materials.”

“I wasn’t even working on this project.”

“I know. But you’re the boss now. So, retroactively, you’re responsible.”

Michael sat back in his chair, thunderstruck.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I think you’d better plan on attending this with me, Bill.”

“Of course.” Sutherland gave him a wry, sympathetic look. “Cheer up, Mike. Things could be worse.”

“How?”

“You could be François Aubenay.”

“Keep reminding me of that.” Michael rubbed his jaw, numb with shock. “Thanks, Bill. I’ll get with you later.”

Half the screen turned black.

“Save and store message. Research.”

The summons disappeared, replaced by a view of the research department over Penny Lansdale’s shoulder. She smiled at Michael, lines raying out from the corner of her golden eyes. But the smile faded as she saw his expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Bad news, Pen. Drop what you’re doing. I need you to compile a detailed analysis and report on File R9C.”

Penny turned to her auxiliary screen and requested the file. A moment later, she looked up. Her expression was grim. “Our assist with the Aubenay Moonstation contract. I remember it.”

“I thought you were here then,” Michael said. “Good. I need a solid defense, Penny. They’re looking for somebody to hang. We’ve got to convince them that our neck is not the right size for their noose.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Worse.”

Her eyes widened. “I’ll get right on it, Michael.”

“Thanks, Pen.” He cut the connection. What next? Might as well share the good news with Jena.

Dourly, he called her shop. She answered on the first buzz, her image bright in a turquoise tunic. Behind her, the walls of the store sparkled with precious objects.

“Expecting a call?” he asked.

Something about his body language must have broken through her self-absorption.

“Don’t play games, Michael. I was near the screen, that’s all. What’s wrong?”

“Federal summons to the Moonstation investigation,” he said.

“What? Why are they calling you?”

“My old man did some subcontracted work on the dome.”

“He did?” She frowned in irritation. “Are we at risk?”

“Looks that way. I’ll have to go to the West Coast next week. Want to come?” He managed a hearty tone. “You can get in some shopping.”

She fiddled with her hair nervously. “I—I can’t, Michael. I’m expecting a shipment of Gabonese reed glass. I don’t trust anybody else to unpack it. And who would watch the store?”

“Your staff.”

“And Herra?”

“She’s old enough to stay alone. She’s hardly ever home anyway.” For a moment, he stared at her. Blond hair framing her face, golden eyes glinting, she was as beautiful now as when he’d married her, fifteen years ago. Beautiful, selfish Jena. He admired her from a distance, as if looking at a holopainting.

“I don’t want to argue, Michael, but it’s out of the question. I’d like to be supportive, but I just can’t go.”

Just as he’d expected. He wasn’t even angry, really. “If that’s how you want it. I’ll talk to you later.”

The screen went black.

He’d stopped arguing with her long ago. Stopped looking for a way to bring them closer.

The room felt stifling. He peeled off his green silk jacket. Still sweating, he jumped up, paced to the sleek blue-green wall, then back to his desk. When would Penny finish that analysis? He was halfway across the room again when the phone buzzed.

Lari’s voice came over the speaker: “Mr. Ryton? Your mother, line two.”

Sue Li stared serenely from the screen, face framed by white hair. Her golden eyes were calm.

“Michael, I wanted to touch base with you about the mutant council meeting in Mendocino. Reservations and all that.”

“Sorry, Mom. Skipped my mind.”

“Big contract?”

“No.”

“Something wrong?”

“Yes.” He let out his breath in a high, irritable hiss. “I’ve been subpoenaed to attend an investigation on the Moonstation disaster.”

As always, in times of trouble. Sue Li’s face was as impassive as Buddha.

“Did you build anything for them?” she asked.

“‘Yes.”

“Was the explosion your fault?”

“I don’t know yet. But I don’t think it was anybody’s fault.”

“No, of course not.”

Her calm drove him crazy. “Just hope that nobody digs up the records of Dad’s lobbying efforts.”

Sue Li shook her head. “I told your father not to get involved in that.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to worry about it, does he?” Michael said sharply. “He’s not the one who’ll be testifying.”

Pain flickered across his mother’s face. He felt as if he’d just stabbed her. Stupid, he thought. “Sorry.”

For a moment, she said nothing. When she spoke again, her voice was even, measured.

“Never mind. Is Jena going with you?”

“No.”

Again, silence. Then Sue Li smiled gently.

“Then I’ll keep you company. And we can both go to the mutant council meeting out there.”

“Mom, I don’t know if I’ll have time for that …”

“When does the investigation begin?”

“The Monday after the council meeting.”

“So you’ll have plenty of time. At least you’ll come with me to Dream Haven and see your father.” It was not a request.

Michael dreaded visiting his father at the storehouse even more than he dreaded the investigation. He took a deep breath. “Of course. We can fly out together. I’ll rent a skimmer or take the bullet train to Armstrong.”

“And I’ll notify the council to provide housing.”

“Fine. I’ve got to go, Mom …”

“See you next week, then.”

Jena Ryton paced the length of the Piedmont auditorium, heels clicking against the polished gray acrylic floor. She paused, combed her hair, then nodded at her reflection in the window. She’d kept her figure, thank god. And had hardly a wrinkle to show for being a mother. And wife. She tapped her foot impatiently, admiring the glossy blue shine of her boot leather. Wade Walters had asked her to meet him after the officers of the Mutant Union’s Eastern Division met, but he was late. She really should get home, especially tonight. Poor Michael. She honestly pitied him, up to his neck in a federal investigation. What a mess.

“There you are,” Wade said, coming around the corner, an easy roll to his step, dark hair gleaming, mustache jaunty. As if he’d been the one waiting all along. He had his nerve. For a moment, she considered turning around and stalking away. But then he had his arms around her and she forgot about her anger, about her husband, about everything.

“I thought you’d never get here,” she said, and kissed him lightly. The pressure of his body against hers was a maddening delight.

“Stand you up? Not a chance. That union meeting just took longer than I expected.” Wade’s grip on her grew stronger.

“Anything important happening?”

“The usual bureaucratic bullshit. More hat-passing by the Eastern Bloc rep. Dr. Sarnoff from Leningrad explaining why the Russian mutant population is so much smaller than that in the United States, and why, therefore, we should support our economically deprived Russkie brethren with dollars.” He kissed her again.

Jena closed her eyes, savoring his touch. Once, long ago, she had felt this way with Michael, when they were both kids, before Herra was born. Where had that magical feeling gone? Leached out by routines, by diapers and business deadlines? For years now she’d shuffled numbly through the seasons: through clan meetings, Mutant Union activities, teacher-parent seminars. When Wade arrived last year, fresh from the West Coast, with his charming smile and a certain recklessness that matched her own spirit, she felt the attraction instantly. She’d fought it for a while. But only for a while. He made room for her. He wanted to see her. He’d brought her back to life. Even his voice was an aphrodisiac.

“Come over to my apartment,” he said. “I’m finished for the day.”

She pulled away from him reluctantly. “No. No, really. I can’t. I’ve got to get home.” Should she tell him about the investigation?

He didn’t bother to cover his disappointment. “When am I going to see you?”

“Michael’s going out of town next week. We’ll have time then,” she said. “Walk me to my skimmer.”

“All right.”

He opened the car door for her. Then he got in beside her.

“Wade!!”

Telekinetically, he sealed the doors and pushed the seat down. She began to think of the other things he could do with his power, and felt her resistance ebbing.

Thank God the windows are opaque, she thought. He had her half out of her clothing, spreadeagled on the backseat like a teenager, moaning with delight. Just this once, she thought. This one affair. And when it’s over, I’ll be good. I’ll be a good, faithful wife to Michael. I promise. I can do it. I know I can.

Then he was on top of her and she stopped thinking.

CHAPTER
FOUR

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Melanie set the computer to autoscan and scrolled impatiently through her file on Narlydda. She’d tracked her quarry to a corporate address and phone number, but the trail ended there. No trace of Narlydda’s actual residence or studio. No phone number. It was as if she didn’t exist. And that woman, Anne Verland, hadn’t been much help. Maybe there really wasn’t any Narlydda. It was all an elaborate scam by some Korean corporation, using computer graphics and a post office box in Northern California.

A shadow fell over the screen as somebody stood close behind her, blocking the overhead light. She whirled around to see Ralph Ferron grinning down at her.