Habu. James B. Johnson
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to Reubin.
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know....”
“You know something.”
Yes, she did, but she didn’t want to show it. She looked at him frankly. His face appeared rested, yet his eyes were dark and dangerous. She shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s rather personal.”
Reubin cocked his head and set his coffee down on the table. “Death is personal. Alex and I were married, that’s personal. Now what is it?”
The man was like a weed-burr under your saddle harness while riding: irritating. “Fels Nodivving was, uh, shall I say, pursuing Mother in a, um, romantical way.”
“A bureaucrat would have chosen those words. But I see your point.” He thought for a moment. “Even after Alex returned here to Snister a married woman?”
“Yes. Or so it seemed to me.” Her mother had rolled her eyes upon a similar question from Tique. “Maybe even more so.” Tique recalled her mother saying, “It’s worse than ever, hon. Fels is persistent. I’ll be glad to close out my affairs and go off with Reubin to start our new life together.” Tique hadn’t paid much attention. As this was her own first life, she’d been in the midst of an emotional struggle. The coming permanent parting from her mother promised to be worse than the forced separation from her father when he’d left to take the Long Life treatment and head for the frontier. And her mother had been strangely reluctant to cut the bond between them, too. “You’ve been closer to me than many of my children,” she’d told Tique. “You’ve never had to leave your folks or your offspring; I’ll tell you it’s difficult, sometimes—sometimes it’s a blessing. This time, well, regrets beat at me like waves on the beach.” Alex had smiled. “I oughta be a poet or something, huh?” Now, Tique felt a wave of sorrow.
Interrupting her reverie, Reubin responded. “Even so, if the man Nodivving desired your mother, why does he want to see us instead of allowing us to visit with some minor official, like the pathologist?”
Tique shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s possible that the Prime Minister wants to meet the man who won the woman he wanted.”
“Take my measure?”
“Something like that.”
“Perhaps,” said Reubin, “he thinks I know something. That explanation fits more than others.”
Tique rose from their breakfast. Reubin followed, carrying dishes to the slot. “That’s a solid answer,” she said, “but it doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes more sense than a lot of other things here which haven’t made sense more.”
“What?” Tique asked. Who the hell was this man? A man whom she’d resented as much as she’d ever resented anyone. He had been going to take Mother away. Not only Tique’s mother, but her best friend, too. Reubin Flood hadn’t known Mother for more than a few real-time weeks and he was taking her off. The anger and resentment Tique had felt even before Mother died returned.
Reubin went to look out the window. “Never mind. Tell me about this Prime Minister.”
“On the way. Don’t want to be late.” She was glad she could put off talking to him even momentarily.
As they drove across the city, Tique talked, interrupting herself on occasion to show Reubin special sights. Anything to occupy her mind and keep her anger and resentment down. “The city, Cuyas, is rather modern. In the outlands, however, things quite contrast.”
“We can talk wormwood later,” he said. “Tell me about Fels Nodivving.” Reubin’s eyes never rested as she drove. They reminded her of a wild creature: always assessing.
A sheet of rain hit the aircar and she activated the blower to clear the forward and rear portions of the bubble-canopy. She allowed the road’s computer to control their pace. As long as they were on a major thoroughfare, the road would do the driving for them.
“How do I explain the Prime Minister?” Tique said. “It’s all tied up with economics. Fels Nodivving is the Chief Executive Officer of Snister Wormwood, Inc. This is a Company planet. As CEO, he is automatically the Prime Minister. He runs the planet, business and government.”
“Prime Minister,” Reubin said, “by definition, connotes a variation of the parliamentary system. Which, in turn, usually means a democratic system, more or less. True?”
“Oh, we’re free enough,” she said, checking her weather radar. “It’s just that the Company goes in for the necessary window dressing. We’re free personally. We just don’t have much say in governmental affairs.”
“Sort of self-contradictory,” Reubin said.
Tique glanced at him. His face was neutral. “No. Not when you understand that the Company is the government.”
“That’s how they used to explain it, the party theorists.”
There was no rancor in his voice. Tique guessed—mostly from hints her mother had dropped—he was another of the Original Earthers who “had seen everything, been everywhere.” One of the few remaining who’d been through the entire history of Earth’s expansion to the stars, one who predated the Long Life Institute. Which reminded her: “There is perfect historical precedent and justification for the Company ruling an entire planet. How about the Long Life Institute? For centuries it has been an entity to which no laws apply. The LLI exists Fed wide and no one dares touch it. No one outside the Institute has any influence over it whatsoever, regardless of the circumstances.”
“Are you sure?” he asked enigmatically.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She would have liked to pursue the topic, but they arrived at the Government Center. They took a bubblevator up to the Prime Minister’s suite. When she introduced Reubin to Fels, there was a subtle change in the room. Tension. It wasn’t outright dislike. More in terms of challenge. Fels Nodivving was a strong man, a man to whom everyone gave great respect and deference. There was none of that give in Reubin Flood. No acceptance of domination.
It seemed to shake Fels momentarily. Physically, Fels Nodivving was shorter than Reubin—but wider at the shoulders and hips. Fels had been an accomplished wrestler a life or two ago. He had thick, curly black hair drooping to cover his ears. He was clean shaven and sartorially correct, wearing the corporate uniform of Wormwood, Inc. coveralls, with a small logo on the right breast. The deep blue coveralls reflected in his eyes, making them dark, but Tique couldn’t determine a color.
Now they sat, Tique reviewing the day so far, Reubin and Fels scanning the autopsy results.
Tique leaned back in disgust as the Prime Minister and Reubin Flood studied the autopsy. She was on the couch which obliquely faced Fels’ desk and the wall screen. Reubin rested lightly on a hard chair. Fels was on the edge of his executive chair, running the info onto the screen from his desk console.
They saw the video replay of the autopsy. Tique refused to view it. She watched Reubin as the gruesome thing expended itself on the wall. His face was rock hard, as if under rigid control. Now Reubin and Fels Nodivving scanned the analytical results of the autopsy. Data scrolled in columns and neat little paragraphs and subparagraphs. Reubin’s face was intense with concentration.
Had Tique not been closely watching the two men, she’d never have known that moment was when it all began.
“Oops,” Reubin said. “Too fast, I missed that one.”
Fels touched a keypad and the frame leaped back onto the wall. His face froze and his eyes locked onto Reubin for a fraction of a second. The enmity between them grew exponentially then; and it certainly wasn’t because Reubin had failed to “sir” the PM.
Reubin’s shoulders tightened, then relaxed. His voice was normal. “Okay.