Habu. James B. Johnson
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entire autopsy, Reubin asked, “Was there no chemical analysis of the blood? I saw other tissue analyses, but not blood.”
Fels turned in his desk chair and tapped on his console. “Ah, there. An appendix to the other findings. I didn’t think it worth showing.”
“Show me.” Reubin’s voice was commanding.
“Certainly.”
The antagonism between the two climbed another level.
Data filled the wall and Reubin studied it. Then he waved a hand. “Through.”
Fels killed the images. “Are you satisfied, Mr. Flood?”
“Yes.” Reubin rose, though Fels had not indicated the interview was over.
Fels regarded him. “It is quite unusual for a bridegroom to study an autopsy so closely.” An edge appeared in Fels’ words. Was it residual jealousy? Or something else?
Reubin stared down at him. “It is quite unusual for the CEO of a company and planet to run the results of that autopsy for that bridegroom.”
Fels stood. “Perhaps I simply wanted to measure the man who won Alexandra Sovereign.”
“Perhaps,” said Reubin.
Tique got to her feet. Neither of the men was aware of her.
“Will you be staying long on Snister?” Fels asked Reubin.
Reubin shrugged. “It could be that I’d like to see the planet. Play the tourist.”
“It could be, also,” Fels enunciated slowly, “that memories on Snister would be overwhelming to you and you’d want to depart soonest.”
“That could be.”
“In fact, I suggest it,” Fels said.
“Noted.”
Tique could feel the strong undercurrents rushing about the two. Though not at all used to any sort of overt or subtle challenges, she couldn’t help but shiver internally. Hostility fairly leaped between them.
On the way out of the Government Center, Reubin Flood was strangely quiet. In the car, he was the same, fiddling with his wristcomp. It gave Tique the willies.
Then he swung the Heads Up Display from the driver’s view to the passenger side. He toyed with it for a moment.
“This promontory,” he said. “It offers a good view of the countryside?”
Tique nodded. She had questions to ask him. “Some call it ‘Lovers’ Leap.’ But the actual name is something like ‘Scenic Overlook #18.’ Reubin, I—”
“I’ve punched in the coordinates on the HUD if you need them.”
“I know the way. But—” She realized he was looking at her with a strange intensity. Slowly he shook his head. He didn’t want her to talk, to question him. That much was obvious. But why?
“Tell me what you do for a living, Tequilla.” Reubin looked at her and settled back. Danger boiled in his eyes.
Tique couldn’t begin to categorize his reaction to Mother’s death. It was as if he weren’t...human.
Wind pushed clouds off the sky above them as she drove into the mountains above Cuyas. “I’m an aquadynamacist.”
“I know that much. What does one of those things do?”
She felt self-conscious again. “It’s what it sounds like. A variation of an engineer and program designer. I run computer models of water dynamics. Irrigation. Dams. Since we have to have dams for irrigation sometimes, we use them for power, too. Underwater drive-vanes require just as much engineering as configurations for aerodynamics, for instance. Especially if you want to maximize profits and minimize expenditures, which is the middle name of the Wormwood conglomerate.” She thought of the “wetlands” where wormwood grew. “During the monsoon season, which is much of the year, we’ve got to control floods. I’m kept pretty busy.”
She hesitated, then continued. “They’ve planted all the wetlands with wormwood, not simply allowing nature to grow it at her own pace and where the ecosystem dictates. There’s a great plain where man-planted wormwood trees are already being harvested.” She waved angrily with her left hand. “Wormwood, Inc. has planted wormwood damn near everywhere now.” She cautioned herself to keep her opinions out of the conversation—for now. “Anyway, because of all that, I have as much work as I can handle. Though, right now, I’m on leave because of Mother.”
As she drove, she told him of the various projects she’d worked on. As wormwood became more important throughout this sector of the Federation, new wormwood forests were needed. The production spread out from Cuyas and other cities. The major wormwood production now came from Company-grown groves on that distant riverine plain as opposed to harvesting the original, nature-grown wormwood trees. In the other areas, the trees had not yet matured. But they were increasing their harvesting capability: manpower being hired, machines being built, processing centers under construction; all targeted for the projected harvest in a few years.
“The expansion from harvesting natural wormwood trees to man-grown ones was, in fact, the reason Mother was off world surveying markets and soliciting business.” She went on to explain how the particular combination of climate, humidity, flooding, root nutrition, and light filtered through Snister’s atmosphere created the odd conditions in which the worm could live in that particular tree, acting as a symbiote to the tree itself.
Tique was proud of her profession. It was unique, as far as she knew. “To become an aquadynamacist, you have to become an expert in all phases of computers. I can make the company’s mainframe tap dance if I have to.”
Into the mountains, she followed the single route up; at the 3K level, just below the crest, was the promontory. She ran the car into the turnaround. No other groundcars were stopped. Occasional traffic went up or down the mountain behind them.
Tique had always loved this spot. Her mother had brought her here often—on the way to their mountain cabin—when she was a child. Lately, she hadn’t come as frequently as she’d have liked. Briefly, she wondered whether Reubin was psychic and had asked to be brought here because it was Alexandra’s favorite place, too.
The wind blew strongly, hinting of rain even at this height. Tique led the way into the protective bubble toward the viewers.
Reubin fiddled with his wristcomp again.
Tique looked out over the mountains and valleys and forests of wormwood trees. She pointed, “See that peak at about nine o’clock, just below the horizon?”
Reubin activated a viewer and swung it around.
“Flaag Peak,” Tique said. “Perhaps 4K to the west and down on that shoulder is the cabin Mother gave me. It was her departing gift. She, well, she was gonna go off with you to start a new life and uh, well—” The memory assaulted Tique. Mother. Dead.
“Got it,” Reubin said, diplomatically still glued to the viewer. “Can you get there from here?”
She nodded though he wasn’t watching her. “Aircar, or a long ground route. It’s alone out there, a blip on the side of a mountain, surrounded by forest and rock and mountain and a lake.”
Reubin had stopped looking through the viewer. “It’s in your name?”
“Yes.” Was Reubin after Mother’s money? Every time she thought she had him figured out, he surprised her.
“Good. Listen, Tequilla Sovereign. We have a problem. I am going to tell you about it for one simple reason: they will never believe I didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“First, your car is bugged. Are you aware of that?”
“No. Why—”
“It