“Okay,” the sensitive agreed reluctantly. “I wasn’t able to satisfy Tepho’s needs last time. Let’s hope this session is different.”
It took the better part of an hour for the robot and the sensitive to make their way through the laser-straight streets, past the weatherworn pylons that marked the path of a once-glorious transportation system, and up to the seemingly decrepit building from which Omar Tepho ran the Techno Society. The unlikely twosome followed a narrow passageway back to the point where an iron gate blocked further progress. There was an audible click as the automaton inserted a metal fi?nger into the receptacle located next to a print-sensitive identifi?cation pad. The variant had been through the process before, so he wasn’t surprised when the gate swung open, and the robot led him to a metal door. There was a momentary pause while a guard inspected the pair through a peephole followed by a nudge, as the door swung inward. Council member Ron Olvos was there to greet Dyson. He was a small man, but a hard worker and a skilled politician. Those qualities, plus the care with which he always put Tepho’s interests ahead of his own, accounted for his presence on the board. Olvos ignored the machine but extended a hand to the sensitive. “Welcome! Thank you for coming.”
Though not altogether certain that his presence was entirely voluntary, the variant smiled agreeably and wondered if he should demand three cronos rather than two. But he couldn’t muster the necessary courage, the moment passed, and Dyson found himself in a spotless corridor. “The council was in session all morning,” Olvos explained. “The chairman raised the possibility of bringing you back—and will be extremely pleased to learn that we were able to do so.”
“Really?” Dyson inquired doubtfully. “I didn’t meet with much success last time.”
“Ah, but that wasn’t your fault,” the smaller man replied soothingly. “This session will go more smoothly. . . . Do you remember Jevan Kane?”
The sensitive nodded. Kane was the operative who sought him out the fi?rst time. He was a cold man with blond hair, blue eyes, and white skin. All in an age when more than 90 percent of the population had black hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. “Yes, of course,” Dyson replied politely. “How is he?”
“Dead,” Olvos replied emotionlessly. “Which is where you come in. It’s our hope that, unlike the founder, Kane continues to support the Techno Society’s goals and will provide us with some much-needed assistance from the other side. If so, we could have an ongoing need for your services, and that could be quite profi?table for you.”
Dyson was desperately poor, but there are worse things than poverty, and the process of being co-opted by the highly secretive and possibly sinister Techno Society fi?lled the sensitive with misgivings. But there was no opportunity to consider the long-range implications of the day’s activity as servos whined and double doors opened into what had once been a vat. Those days were gone however, and the onetime tank had been transformed into a circular conference room. Electric light fl?ooded the tank, a holo projector was suspended above the round conference table, and streams of incoming data cascaded down wall-mounted screens. All of which were wonders that Dyson had sworn he wouldn’t disclose. A promise he had kept. Six of the seven seats that surrounded the table were occupied, but the sensitive’s eyes were immediately drawn to Omar Tepho—partly because of the way the man looked, which was undeniably different, but mostly as a result of the thought forms that hovered around him. They were dark things for the most part, only half-seen within the electricalstorm-like shimmer generated by a brilliant intellect. Others were present in the room, but as Tepho’s coal black eyes swiveled around to look at him, the variant knew that his was the only opinion that really mattered. He had a deep resonant voice, and it fi?lled the space with sound as he spoke.
“Welcome,” Tepho intoned, as Dyson entered the keyholeshaped space at the table’s center. “Thank you for coming. It is our intention to communicate with Jevan Kane.”
By some accident of birth Tepho had been born with multiple defects. His skull was lumpy rather than smooth, one eye socket was higher than the other, and his ears looked like handles on an earthenware jug. Still worse was the fact that the technologist had a congenital spinal deformity that made it diffi?cult for him to walk or run. None of which would have been of interest to Dyson had it not been for the manner in which the vessel had imparted its shape to the contents. The variant bowed humbly and took his seat. “You’re welcome. . . . I hope I can be of service.”
“As do we,” Tepho replied gravely. “Please proceed.”
Dyson requested that the lights be dimmed, suggested that the council visualize Jevan Kane’s face, and began the series of much-practiced steps that would allow the sensitive to partially exit his body. Meanwhile, on the plane closest to the physical, the disincarnate entity who had once been known as Jevan Kane waited to come through. He had experienced many incarnations—some more pleasant than others. And, although the transition from the physical to the spirit realm had a transformational effect on some spirits, Kane remained unchanged. So much so that he was intent on preparing the physical plane for his next incarnation. A life in which he would control the star-spanning civilization that Tepho sought to establish.
So, no sooner had Dyson half exited his body, than Kane entered it. And not tentatively, but with considerable force, as the operative sought to reintegrate himself with the physical. Everything seemed to slow as the disincarnate entity entered what felt like quicksand—and was forced to cope with a body made of lead. But there were pleasures, too, starting with the sharp tang of vinegar that still clung to the inside surface of the tank and the sudden awareness of the sex organs that dangled between the channel’s legs. Slowly, bit by bit, what had been like a heavy mist vanished, and the conference room appeared.
Tepho was there, as was the shadowy combat variant who stood half-seen behind the chairman, but rather than the fear previously felt when ushered into their combined presence, Kane felt something akin to contempt. Because even as Tepho attempted to manipulate him, he would use the technologist and thereby achieve his ends. “Greetings,” Kane said through what felt like numb lips. “This is Jevan Kane.”
What followed was a long and mostly predictable series of questions focused on the circumstances of Kane’s most recent death, the status of the people he’d been sent to intercept, and the present disposition of the AI called Logos. Kane answered by providing the council with a slightly glorifi?ed description of his own death, but when it came to the other matters, was forced to remind those present that just as it was diffi?cult for them to access the spirit planes, the reverse was true as well. So, in spite of concerted efforts to obtain such information, the best he could give the council was the assurance that the runner and his companions were still on Thara and probably in possession of the computer. “It has no spirit,” the disincarnate explained, “which makes it almost impossible to see. . . . But judging from the founder’s continued interest in the threesome, it’s my guess that they still have it.”
Though hungry for more detail, Tepho was excited to learn that the device he sought was still on Thara and slammed his fi?st down on the table in front of him. A stylus jumped and rolled off the table onto the fl?oor. “Excellent!
Now we’re getting somewhere! Shaz . . . I want you to assemble a team and make the jump to Thara. You’ll need guidance from Kane, so take Dyson with you and stay in touch. I know you two have had your differences in the past, but it’s time to put old grudges aside and work for the common good. Kane? Shaz? Can you do that?”
Tepho’s words ignored the fact that he was the one who originally set the two men against each other—but that was to be expected. “You can count on me,” Kane lied. “What’s past is past.”
