Kier suffered without sleep all through the morning. When he eventually managed to fall asleep, he was almost instantly awakened by a call from Morosev. This time the base commander didn’t call the young man to his apartments, having chosen the comm talk.
“Congratulations, my lord!” The general was cheerful. “Our small operation was a complete success. Your brothers thought themselves to be the toughest, and the old general and the old count just two senile fools. Goofs! Mark was arrested tonight by the count’s people with the ‘evidence’ of your ‘death’ in his hands. The count made an official claim to the out-satrap with accusations against his elder sons. In the morning, we transferred the killer and Mark into the regional headquarters of the Special Corps in New Roma. Your brother cracked quickly, turning on Petr and White. In his turn, Captain White had already declared that he was on the Count Vorsmith’s side from the very beginning. Allegedly, his participation in your brother’s plot was essential for its prevention. He goes as far as to declare that it was he who ordered Karlsen to spit it all out and give testimonies against Petr and Mark Vorsmith. But the frightened servant messed it all up, for which he paid. Of course, it’s all a bunch of crap, but that’s some good reaction. The old ImpSec school! Unfortunately, we didn’t manage to arrest Captain Petr; he stubbornly refuses all the allegations, but he has been suspended from work. He is now under house arrest in the Vorsmiths’ mansion, where the count’s henchmen are looking after him. Mark and Vorobyov are going to have a life sentence.”
“Will they really be judged?” asked the half-naked Kier, who had a hard time opening his eyes and was looking at the general owlishly.
“The case of Mark will be decided by the out-satrap and, of course, your father. But I’ve promised to cover up Vorobyov. Sincere redemption, cooperation with the law, Imperial witness, stuff like that. And, of course, I’ll have to pay several thousand yellows. The count promised to support me. Vorobyov is already fired from the Special Corps, but he’ll still serve the Empire!”
Kier felt anger and frustration, but didn’t dare to argue.
“And what is going to happen to me? Am I leaving your base?”
“No way!” the commander laughed with content. “You are staying here as my honorable guest and continuing to fulfill the duties of the senior weatherman. We’ll have the time to make a real officer out of you!”
“But why?” Kier couldn’t think clearly because of the poor sleep. “According to you, nothing is threatening my life anymore. Or have I missed something?”
“You’ve got everything right, my lord,” said Morosev, beaming and enjoying his role as the goodie old man. “Your brothers’ plot against Count Vorsmith has completely failed. Captain White is seriously frightened and has already asked about a transfer from the base. It is unlikely you’ll meet him again. His fate is in the hands of his bosses. So nothing threatens you in the near future.”
“Can I talk to my father?” asked Kier, after eventually realizing that the decision to keep him at the base had come from the count.
“Anytime you desire, my lord. All your means of communication are unblocked; you can freely move around the base territory. But I don’t recommend you to try to leave it. This will count as desertion from the Imperial Special Corps. You’ll get caught and put into a real prison cell inside this very dam. Successful service you, Ensign!”
* * *
A week passed after the death of Underman and the other tumultuous events. Kier tried to contact his father, but was only honored by a virtual audience with the top-manager, Tsapis. He politely explained to the young lord that at that moment the count was very busy, but he would definitely pass on any information that Kier had.
“Your opinion is very precious to us,” Tsapis added at parting.
Kier understood that he was not likely to get his father to change his mind. The count had cunningly used his youngest son as live bait to catch his elder brothers, and clearly didn’t intend to be at risk in the future. Removed from the office at the ImpSec, Captain Petr was under house arrest, and Mark was waiting for the out-satrap’s court, while Kier was stuck at the Aurora Borealis Base under the wing of General Morosev.
Kier expected that his father would send him a new bodyguard to replace Underman, but that didn’t happen. He was left to himself and, as he realized with horror, such a state of affairs could last for an indefinite time. Kier’s personal bank account was regularly replenished with small money transfers, but the overall sum was miserable. It was impossible to flee from the base and Kier was forced to accept his position.
The life of the young vor had now noticeably changed. To this point in his life, he’d been constantly patronized by Brutari or Underman and now, for the first time, Kier was alone. He had gotten used to the constant fear, but now there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. The adventures were over, having left desolation in Kier’s soul. The only reviving moment for him was the presence of Elena Brutari—or rather, her official title, Mrs. McGregor.
Pining away from forced lack of activity in his cell, the young vor checked the personal profile of Elena on the comm-net, as well as those of her newly-acquired mother and husband.
In the past, her official profile listed only her father, while her mother was listed as unknown. Now the data had mysteriously changed.
“Father is unknown. Mother: Elena Disconti. Husband: Arnold McGregor. Registration address in New Roma,” Kier read with surprise. The profile of the elder Disconti claimed that she was thirty-eight, had never been married, and was the general director of the private venture company, Free Dendraria.
The comm-net data on this company was very scarce. Free Dendraria had a registered capital that barely exceeded the compulsory minimum and was allegedly making investments into scientific research. It was registered in New Jackson, a large port city in Northern Gomorrah, known for its favorable terms for different kinds of business. New Jackson also had the reputation of being the continental capital of organized crime, as well as the center of Gomorrian terrorist activity.
Interestingly, Mr. Lemen happened to have been born in New Jackson.
Kier didn’t expect anything specific from the profile of Arnold McGregor, but he suddenly came across a note of one of the investigators in New Roma: “Put to justice in June 999 for an attempted assassination of his father. Two thousand yellows paid from the bank account of the Free Dendraria Company for his release from custody. Deprived of heirship.”
Kier also found similar data in Elena’s profile: “Arrested for co-partnership… Released …”
Eh! The same history of vors is repeated among the simples! Kier exclaimed mentally. And with the same result. Arni didn’t succeed in getting rid of his old man quickly, and now he is working off his debt to these ‘dendrarians.’ And he also drew Elena into this mess, the scum! But why did the company from Gomorrah get interested in this case? It turns out that Disconti is Elena’s real mother, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and helped the daughter and her husband get out of prison. It is all so strange.
Kier was aware that the official profiles of simples on the comm-net were poorly protected from illegal alteration. Many of the simples made changes in their profiles with the help of handsomely paid hackers. It was a violation of the law and punishable by a big fine, but the Empire’s administration didn’t seriously monitor such ‘pranks.’ There were more than ten billion simples in the World Empire and monitoring all their data was a complicated and unnecessary task. However, when any simple was revealed to the authorities or was too bold when changing his official profile, no mercy was shown.
The vors had a cardinally different situation. There were only about one hundred million aristocrats in the Empire and the profile of each was strictly controlled. No simple or vor, except for the counts and other authorized bureaucrats, could gain full access to the official files of another vor. Even the smallest alteration was restricted and could only be undertaken by many formalities; any violations were severely punished.
Kier remembered the case of Khavilla the Cunning, a skilled hacker. The young woman made an alteration to her official profile regarding marriage to Count Vorbarrov of Northern Heartland, when she was only his lover. Moreover, Khavilla corrected the profile of her unsuspecting ‘husband.’ The authorities reacted in a flash, arresting Khavilla the same day and sentencing her to life imprisonment. After a couple of months, she died in her cell. The Emperor Darius III had mentioned this case in his comm-net speech. The self-styled ‘countess’ who had corrected her profile—and the profiles of other simples scot-free—understood her mistake too late.
Curious, Kier thought. Will I be able to find the profiles of the out-lords on the comm-net?
After a moment’s hesitation, he put in an inquiry for Imperial Prime Minister Dwarfin. Kier had never done such thing before and, at the last moment, got scared of his own boldness. However, nothing happened.
“File is not found,” the comm reported.
* * *
The accommodation of Academician Graphan Genius into Underman’s former room came as a surprise to Kier. The day after the henchman’s death, the people of Morosev took out all Underman’s things, including the monitoring equipment.
A Special Corps major had asked Kier to open the door to the room, as all the locks were programmed to his bio-metric characteristics. Then the same officer assured Kier that the monitoring of his personal apartment would cease from now on.
Whether this was true or false, the youth didn’t know.
In the evening of the same day, Kier encountered Academician Genius and Elena Disconti near the door of the neighboring room. The odd couple was hugging immodestly. The famous scientist recognized the senior weatherman and nodded politely, but still in a patronizing way. His girlfriend also greeted the young vor and cast an estimating look at him.
This Genius doesn’t seem to have any troubles about the decedent’s boots, Kier thought. He might be unaware of Underman and Olga’s story, but he’s surely heard of the attempt on me and the henchman’s death. Why did Morosev decide to house him near me?
After checking the official profiles of his old mates and Ms. Disconti, Kier was curious about their affairs at the base.
I have nothing to do. Maybe I should try out being an amateur detective? Could it actually be that Elena, her mother, and Arni came here only for the sake of the scientific research?
After some sensible speculations, the youth had to admit that there was no reason to suspect Genius’ employees of anything illegal. The real incentive to put his nose into their business was his tender passion toward Brutari’s daughter. He was also tormented by fiery jealousy toward Arnold McGregor.
If fate is giving me another chance to win Elena’s love, it would be stupid not to use it! Kier decided.
The young aristocrat went to check the Hydro-Meteo Center several times, but it did not help him in finding his former classmates. His subordinate technicians answered the insistent questions of their boss with a perplexed shrug. They assured him that they had seen Mr. and Mrs. McGregor only once, right before the attempt on Kier. The precise location of the young couple was unknown.
On the other hand, the youth met the academician and Elena Disconti more than once. Kier thought it was senseless to ask them directly about Elena-junior, but he decided to learn more about their relations.
They live in the room next to me. That’s a wonderful possibility to find out what binds them. Perhaps there will be some curious information. But how do I get near them unnoticed? Kier meditated.
And then he remembered the vent shaft between the rooms, through which Underman had monitored him and recorded Harry’s confession.
What worked one way may work another way around, the young aristocrat concluded. Vorsmith-junior didn’t have sophisticated devices like his henchman, but after rummaging in some of Underman’s things that had been left at Kier’s room, he found a simple mic with an earphone.
After refreshing himself with instant soup and spam-tins, the young vor enthusiastically got down to business. The walls between the megadam facilities were thick and the vent shaft was narrow, but a thin cord easily made its way through the dirty grid. Just as Kier had expected, the top-notch scientist got back to his room late in the evening, yet again accompanied by Elena Disconti.
After sitting on the plastic chair and plugging in the mini-earphone, the young detective started listening to the other room.
“For you, my muse!” the academician’s voice was a little squeaky. Glasses jingled.
“Graphan, my dear!” To Kier, the coarse voice of Elena Disconti seemed mawkish to the point of no return. “You’ve managed to procure genuine champagne and black caviar in this hole; you’re a real genius!”
“And I know that!” Genius reacted complacently. “But it’s always hard for us geniuses. Your presence is the only thing that brightens up my existence at this disgusting base.”
“Why is it necessary—this expedition, in general? I’m glad I met you, darling, but I don’t understand all this chatter about global warming.”
“And there is nothing to understand. An old fairy tale for fools. Allegedly, burning of oil leads to global warming, and the global flood. This theory was first invented in pre-Imperial times. At the same time, there were attempts to introduce the quotas on consumption of hydrocarbon fuel. Afterwards, everybody had forgotten about it, though global climate actually became warmer in the epoch of the Early Empire. The sea level had noticeably risen. Approximately twenty years ago, the authorities again remembered about this ancient theory, for some reason. The emperor introduced the quotas on consumption, and then on extraction of hydrocarbon fuel. Now they are significantly cut, especially the quotas on extraction. And all under the pretext of fight against the global warming. Mages are also pushing it. Supposedly, modern people are full of themselves, too little spirituality—we’ve got to live a humbler life. They got so carried away that oil burning is considered a sin. Generally, it was said that if you don’t want the wrath of the gods and a new flood, tighten your belts. Of course, after that the oil price skyrocketed.”
Genius stopped, and then inquired with a suspicion, “Darling, you must be bored of listening to one more of my soggy lectures?”
“Don’t be silly, darling,” echoed the oily voice of Disconti. “You’re so clever. I like listening to you very much. Of course, I don’t understand everything, but your sexual voice excites me so much. I’m already trembling with passion.”
There were suspicious rustles and sounds of kissing. Kier grimaced disgustedly.
“Oh, what breasts you have,” Genius squeaked lewdly. “I haven’t had such amazing sex for many years. You’re a real professional in bed!”
“We can go there right now.”
“This cursed job deadens my potency!” the academician suddenly blurted. “And it’s all because Professor Gravitsapa announced that global warming ended a long time ago, and that the global climate has changed radically many times without any participation of humans. All this would not be important if he announced it somewhere in his kitchen, or at least, at our Academic Council. But no! He got on the comm-net and that bastard media magnate, Mikha Vorduck, even set his chatter-hounds to this theme. Independent investigation! Thus, many simples, and some of vors, too, started worrying. In response, the authorities invented this project, Canute.”
“Our rector-president directly told me this back in New Babylon: ‘The research results must be univocal. The global warming is continuing; the ocean level is constantly rising. That’s the will of the emperor, may he rule forever!’ I was told the same in the ImpSec. As ill luck would have it, our professor straight-shooter was right, and the situation is the other way around. The level of the Northern Ocean has been slowly decreasing for two hundred years, as well as the average air temperatures.”
“Darling, I’m sure you’ll manage something.”
“Of course, I will. It is not by chance that I was given this important state task. To be frank, who else could have been chosen? I’m the most famous scientist of the Empire! And a genius, as you have noticed. Any Gravitsapa could simply ‘collect and analyze’ the data! But to analyze that data correctly, and moreover, in such a way that no talking splitters could smell a rat …” Kier heard Genius draw in a huge, savoring breath. “As one ancient politician said: Any fool could make up a small lie, but to make a big and plausible one … such business can be done only by a real genius of science!”
“You said that you’d personally check the base archives. Was there anything interesting?” Disconti inserted casually.
“We have been digging into these musty archives the whole week,” the academician replied in annoyance. “Half of the discs are utterly damaged, and the other half have some ancient porn instead of the monitoring data! I wonder how the local Hydro-Meteo Center is actually doing any work? Although, one shouldn’t wonder, if it’s being managed by some boys, like this Vorsmith-junior. Utter moron! By the way, darling, did you notice how this supposedly ‘senior weatherman’ was staring at your daughter?”
This is it! Kier thought.
“Don’t worry about that, darling,” Disconti replied calmly. “That’s normal behavior for a young man, especially for a vor. My daughter has a husband who’ll be able to protect her, if necessary. Tell me, how long will we be in this hole?”
“I’d gladly get away from here right now, but I need to take care of the project. We’ve been stuck here for more than a week and this creepy cold just won’t go away. As ill luck would have it! The TV men are dying of boredom, and it seems they’ve started to drink. My talk show is in danger.”
“You said that to broadcast the talk show you need warm, clear weather, but I don’t quite get what for …”
“The higher-ups want the evidence of the global warming to be as illustrative as possible. That’s why the talk show must take place on the top of this creepy dam, so that the audience can enjoy the blue sky, bright sun, and a landscape free from ice and snow. The anchorman—that’s me—and my helpers and the invited audience must be dressed as lightly as possible. Of course, it can all be designed on the comm and shown in the record, but then somebody would notice such roughly stitched-in bits. The same Vorduck can crawl out with new disclosures. That’s why I have an order to do it accurately and professionally. This must be a real eye-witness report: ‘The Empire’s scientists at work, science being created right in front of us’ and stuff like that. Of course, I’ve had to extrapolate the convincing data practically out of my head, but I’m already prepared for that. There will be both beautiful graphics and spectacular evidence. The Empire must believe in the global warming. I was even given an attendant brigade of TV men and promised to get a live broadcasting on the First Imperial channel. This is top notch! Usually my talk show is broadcast on the Second channel. But now it might all go to the shitty demons, because of that wild cold! Snow in the middle of the summer! The cursed climate!”
“And why do climate changes actually happen?” Disconti asked.
“This is known only to the demons in hell! I’m not interested in that,” Genius sputtered. The woman’s question clearly surprised the academician. “The real science must be effective; let the crazy nerds like Gravitsapa handle these silly questions.”
“But, there is also some good news,” Genius continued. “When I was rummaging in the base archives, I finally found something valuable. The data on the construction of a new pipe inside the dam for the draining of river water. This was back in the times of the Emperor Xerxes I, about seven hundred years ago. I got interested and found the data on the old pipe. This will be decisive evidence of the global warming! Tomorrow, underwater, we’ll film the old discharge pipe in the dam through which the water from the local river used to spill into the ocean. It is now below the sea level and was immured a long time ago, but the signs of its existence are still present. Then nobody will doubt the menace of the flood. And the fact that the water level went up ages ago, and is now decreasing, must remain unknown to the cattle. Just as the ImpSec guys assured me, Professor Gravitsapa wouldn’t be allowed on the comm-net anymore. The ImpSec have already filed his case on the sexual harassment of his own students. This will silence our ‘straight-shooter.’ All the world will be listening to only me!”
“You’ve never told me that before …” Some worry appeared in Disconti’s sugary voice.
“About what, darling?” The talkative academician seemed lost.
“About this ancient pipe and its underwater imaging. I’m your deputy and assistant in this expedition, not to mention our personal relationship. You don’t trust me?”
“Nonsense, darling! I wanted to tell you about that in the middle of the day, but you’d disappeared somewhere. And ordinary mobile comms don’t work here.”
“You’ll need my help, darling.” The woman’s voice was once again sugary-sweet. “Our company exists exactly for the solution of different organizational matters. For example, we could do the underwater imaging. A genius like you shouldn’t bother with such fuss.”
“If you want to do something well, do it yourself,” the academician grumbled. “This evening I just needed our young ones to equip the mini-bathyscaph we brought from New Babylon. And I couldn’t find anyone! What are your daughter and her husband actually doing?”
“Why, it was you who ordered them to shoot the environment for the talk show. And so they are doing their best. I was with them. You can see such great views from the top of the dam!”
“Oh yeah, I know these views and this shooting. They were probably fucking again in some dark corner,” Genius said rudely. “Tell your daughter that she should definitely come to my talk show. You’ll be both assisting me, switching the image on the screens, putting in the necessary phrases … where I want them, of course.”
“Graphan, darling, why do you need Elena?” Disconti was surprised. “I can manage such nonsense myself with ease.”
“You don’t understand,” the academician snapped in annoyance. “One beautiful woman is good, but two are even better. Science must be sexual! It increases its performance. By the way, your moderately naked bodies will be another proof of the warmth of the Northern Ocean coast.”
“I’ll be glad to serve the science, darling,” Disconti assured Genius.
“You have been flattering me a lot recently, haven’t you?” the academician noted with sudden suspicion. “Several days ago, I saw you in the company of General Morosev. You were having some intimate talk in the open air. Could it be that you’re cheating on me?”
“Don’t joke like that.” Disconti’s voice grew even sweeter, although that seemed almost impossible. “The general is our old business partner. He is investing into Gomorrian real estate and wanted to know my opinion on some delicate financial questions.”
“You’d better watch out!” the sciential dodderer squeaked jealously. “I chose Free Dendraria for the escort of this expedition solely because of you. Of course, you have good prices and connections with this Morosev … but the grant for the Canute project was given by the administration and I can manage them as I like. The other company could have won the project, if it hadn’t been for our acquaintance. With you, I felt young again. And that’s worth much!”
“You won’t be disappointed, sweetheart!” the woman’s voice answered.
At this point, the conversation ended. Soon Kier heard moans and sighs, rarely broken by phrases such as: “Yes, baby, like that! Yes! Oh, gods, what an ass!”
Kier felt sick and took off the earphone. There now, what a hot old goat! And, per the official profile, he is already sixty-six.
Just as Kier had suspected, the eavesdropping gave him a lot of curious information.
Interesting. Why did outs raise this theme? Of course, the cutting of the oil quotas can be profitable for fuel-energy corporations like Heartland Oil, but the Empire’s overall economy suffers. It can’t be that Darius III, Premier Dwarfin, and all the administration tend exclusively to the interests of the oil lobby!
After catching himself from such treacherous thoughts, Kier sighed with disappointment. He discovered the state secrets by chance, but learned almost nothing of Elena-junior and her husband.
Genius wants both Elena-senior and Elena-junior to be present at his talk show, the youth reflected. That means I should also be there. Perhaps I’ll manage to meet Elena alone, without her mother or, what’s more, her husband. I’ll tell her that I’ve loved her for a long time; that now I’m the heir of the county, and that McGregor is absolutely incompatible with her.