The Mind Pool

“Sit down, Luther. I’m interested, but you have to realize what you’re asking. You know Dougal MacDougal as well as I do. So I’m supposed to make him persuade the other three Stellar Group ambassadors to change their minds, when he can’t even look at the Angel Ambassador without having a nervous breakdown? How do you propose I do that?

“MacDougal doesn’t have to talk them into anything. All he has to do is send them a message, revealing that I had a bigger hand than he thought in the original fiasco. According to their crazy logic, if I’m as guilty as Mondrian we’ll share equal responsibility for clearing up the mess.”

“That’s the most stupid thing I ever heard.”

“Almost as stupid as the original decision to put Mondrian in charge. It will work.”

“Suppose it does. How do I know I’ll get credit for the Artefacts?”

“No one else will be asking for credit. I’ll deny involvement if I’m asked.”

“And how do I deal with Esro Mondrian when he finds out he’s not top dog any more?”

“He won’t blame you, he’ll blame the Stellar Group. You sound like you’re afraid of him.”

“Of course I am. I’m not a fool, Luther.” Lotos showed an even display of pearly teeth — a smile, to anyone who did not know her. “You are a simpler soul, Luther. When you don’t like somebody, you do your best to kill them on the spot. With friend Esro, people who get in his way die smiling and never feel the wound. If he has six different agendas going, I can never guess more than four or five of them. He manipulates you, he manipulates me, he manipulates everybody. You and Mondrian are both dangerous men. But I like you a lot better.”

“You’re too kind.”

“I mean it. You are ambitious. He is driven. You are dangerous like a bear. He is like a snake.”

“And what kind of animal are you?”

“Need you ask?” The innocent eyes widened. “I’m a sweet little honey-bee. All I ask is a little nectar from each flower, with no harm to anyone.”

“You’ll get lots of nectar from this one.”

“Perhaps. I like what I’ve heard, but I have to take routine precautions. For example, what’s to stop Mondrian from arranging for a supply of these same Artefacts, once he knows that they exist? He knows Earth well, better than either you or I. For that matter, what’s to stop you from doing the same thing? You know the source, and I don’t, and once I’ve done my part of the deal I have no protection.”

“I have a way to reassure you fully on that question. When the ten Artefacts are in your possession, there will be no others. I’ll show you why — when everything else is settled.”

“With that understanding, you have a deal. I’ll set up the preliminaries. Ambassador MacDougal is busy with an Adestis safari — ” she waited for the snort of disgust from Brachis ” — but I should be able to see him by the end of the day. I’ll be in touch with you after that.”

She stood up, but now it was Luther Brachis who remained in his chair. “There is one thing more. A detail, but without it there can be no agreement.”

“For God’s sake, Luther. Drop the other shoe — and it had better be a small one.”

“I want Solar citizenship arranged for someone. Fast.”

“From one of the colonies? That takes time, even for me.”

“Not from the colonies. From Earth.”

“Then it’s easy. Who is he?”

“She. It’s a woman, Godiva Lomberd.”

“Why citizenship? Why not just a visitor’s visa?”

“I propose to engage in a contract with her.”

“Sweet charity.” Sheldrake’s face took on something close to a real expression. “A contract! What a day this is turning out to be. First you offer Artefacts, which used to turn your stomach at even the thought. Then it’s Luther Brachis, the invincible, with an Earth-woman. You must have told me fifty times that nothing good ever comes from Earth. You even had me persuaded of it. And now — a contract! My opinion of you must be revised. You are not a bear, you are a blind mole.”

“Insult does me no harm. But you will arrange for her citizenship?”

“If the Artefacts are what you claim.” Lotos Sheldrake glanced at the notebook on her desk. “We need to talk timing. I believe that everything I need to do can be finished within five days or less.’

“Then that’s when you will get the Artefacts. And the next day, Godiva Lomberd must link up from Earth.”

“It will be done.” Lotos moved with him toward the door. “And when she is here, I have a request: bring her to see me. I am curious to meet the one woman in the system who can make Commander Luther Brachis go soft in the head.”

“Do you have it with you?”

King Bester nodded and patted the bag that he was carrying. “Every last crystal.’

“Then come in.” The heavy outer door closed, shutting out the night sky of Earth, and the Margrave led the way to his private study. Bester had never been there before, and he stared around with open curiosity. It was a room that had been decorated with immense care, somehow blending to one harmonious whole the Qin dynasty terracotta horsemen, the Beardsley early prints, the original Vermeers and van Meegerens, and the computer art. In one corner, shielded from direct light, stood the bulbous form of Sorudan.

“Still got the singer, I see.” Bester nodded towards Sorudan.

“Yes, indeed.” The Margrave waved his visitor to an armchair. “I have been offered enormous amounts for Sorudan, but I consider it my prize creation. I will never sell. A drink, perhaps, to celebrate a successful transaction?”

“You bet, squire.”

Fujitsu examined the King closely, assessing the sophistication of the other man’s palate. At last he shrugged, disappeared into a closet in the corner of the study, and emerged carrying a bottle of pale amber liquid and two small glasses.

“Looks like good stuff,” said Bester.

“The best. Despite all our claims of progress, one cannot improve on perfection.” Fujitsu carefully poured two ounces of fluid into each glass and handed one to his guest.

Bester sniffed it and wrinkled his nose. He leaned his head back and drained the glass in one gulp. “Mmm.” He rolled his eyes. “Bit of all right, that. What is it?”

The Margrave glared.

“It is — or it was — one of the finest distilled liquors ever produced on Earth or off it. Santory scotch whiskey, cask-aged in the Hokkaido deep vaults, a single malt two hundred and fifty years old.” The Margrave took a first delicate sip. “Superb. When I hear of the nectar of the gods, I wonder how it could improve on this.” He shook his massive bald head. “Ah, well. Pearls before swine. I suppose we may as well get down to business. Did Brachis comment on the delivery?”

“Not a word.” Bester lifted the bag and placed it on the table between them. “I saw these counted in, and you might want to do the same coming out.” He saw the Margrave’s look. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t take any. This is just the way it was given to me.”

The bag was full of virgin trade crystals, their uncut surfaces gleaming a dull rust-red in the subdued light of the study. Bester lifted the crystals out in handfuls, examining each one and gloating over its quality before he set it on the table in front of Fujitsu.

“Best I’ve ever seen. Hey, wait a minute. What’s this doing in here?” Bester drew out a thin flat plate, round in shape and a couple of inches across. Unlike the other trade crystals, it had a smooth surface and no inner glow. “I know I didn’t see this one going in.”

At the touch of his fingers, the blue-grey disk came alive. There was a swirl of color in the center of the plate, resolving after a second or two to form a picture. A likeness of Luther Brachis appeared in miniature and peered out at them.

“Remember what you told me, King?” The tiny cameo spoke in a distorted metallic voice. “Any information you wheedled out of Fujitsu was supposed to come back to me alone. What happened to your promise? And you, Fujitsu. Why did you tell the King?”

Bester stared at the image with bulging eyes. The Margrave had knocked over his glass and jerked nervously