Those of My Blood. Jacqueline Lichtenberg
it. No, that’s not fair. It wasn’t Abbot’s fault that Titus had crashed the car, or that Titus had made the change too young. None of Titus’s problems were Abbot’s doing. He swallowed the emptiness, thrust aside the pain, and looked at Abbot. Summoning a grin to match Abbot’s, he refused to be drawn back into the whirl of emotions. Yet, with the most negligent effort, Abbot could sweep him back into the depths, manipulate him into doing or saying anything.
Only this time, he didn’t. He let the echoing contact fade, giving mercy that truly felt like love. It was genuine love, but still Abbot would kill him, truly and permanently, in order to send that SOS. His loyalty to The Blood—the luren species, on Earth as well as out in the galaxy—was above all personal considerations, and Abbot expected no less of Titus.
As the noise and vibration finally let up and an eerie silence descended, Titus decided he had to fight. Connie, and everyone else—not the least of all, unsuspecting humanity—was depending on him. He had to buy time for Connie to act.
At last, the couches folded back into chairs and a voice instructed them to keep seat belts buckled during free-fall. Attendants would escort anyone who needed to use the facilities. Compliance with this safety rule was a condition of employment on the Project.
Mirelle rummaged in her chair arm. “Ah! A lovely poker deck! Poker, not bridge, no?” The back of the deck showed a glorious view of Goddard Station, with Earth glowing in one corner and stars in the background.
The mysterious Andre Mihelich resumed reading, ignoring Mirelle. Titus asked her, “Poker? You were serious?”
“Of course, Titus. But not to worry. We won’t play for money. We will play for each other’s handhelds.”
“What!” Gold laughed. “What could an anthropologist do with an Alter programmed for metals analysis?” They had each brought their personal favorite devices, with Apps and programs they’d need because the lunar facility did not yet have a reliable cloud, phone system, or even a network yet. “I had to strip it to fit in all I have to carry. It’s almost useless now!”
She laughed. “That’s the point! You see, the winner redistributes the devices, deciding who gets whose. To get your own back, you have to work the one you have.”
“But I know nothing about metals beyond basic theory,” protested Titus, “and less about anthropology or any of the Cognitives.”
She gazed up at him, close enough that she might discern his contact lenses now that he’d removed his sunglasses. “Titus, how much do you expect I know about astrophysics?”
Titus eyed Abbot but detected no Influence. “I carry a Bell encrypted. I doubt you’d know how to turn it on.” She could have dealt easily with his old Sharp. He pulled his jacket out from under the seat and produced the Bell. Smaller than his palm, it was programmed for all his routine calculations, and had his standard reference tables in ROM with gigs of Project notes. On the moon, it could take him weeks to set up a new Bell or have one reprogrammed from his home files. He hated all the cloud facilities. Abbot raised an eyebrow in sardonic amusement as if agreeing.
They thought they stole it with my bag! Score one!
Titus passed the Bell to Mirelle and watched her turn the smooth case over. “I don’t even know how to open it!” From her bag she extracted a stubby looking, thick instrument that she handed to Titus. “Can you make this do anything?”
Titus didn’t recognize the manufacturer. He found the activation switch, but every command he tried produced an error message in a different language. Gold chuckled and reached toward Titus. “Here, let me try.”
He had no better luck, and handed it to Abbot who said, “Custom-made, isn’t it? How many languages does it speak?” Abbot, Titus expected, could use anything that had ever been made, all the way back to the abacus, and was proud of it.
“It was a gift...from an admirer. I designed the commands. It’s unique.”
Gold fingered his silver cased Alter and the screen lit up.
“Then how are we supposed to figure out how to use it before we get to the moon?”
Abbot put her instrument on the table and spun the table until she could reach it. Taking it, she said, “Watch.” She tapped a sequence, and the screen lit up with a picture of the Rosetta stone. “I’ll do it again. See? Now each of you show us one easy function.” When they had, she added, “All we have to do is remember all three functions until the end of the game, and then whichever device we end up with, we can get our own back by making it talk.”
“Suppose I get yours but can’t make it show a Rosetta stone?” Gold asked Mirelle.
“Then, Abner, whoever has yours may demand a favor. We’ll say it can’t cost more than the device. As soon as the favor is rendered, the device is returned. Also—since we all must get to work immediately—it has to be a favor that can be done right away.”
Gold eyed Mirelle. “Even a very personal favor?”
“Certainly. This is poker. It gets very personal.”
Abbot signaled for a cabin attendant and began unstrapping himself. “If you folks will excuse me for a—”
“Don’t do that!” warned Gold. “They catch you loose and they’ll send you right back to Earth.”
Abbot subsided. “Thank you, I had forgotten.”
He’s in a panic!
Abbot poked at the signal again.
“Not feeling well?” asked Mirelle. “I have some pills.”
“Oh, no I’m fine.”
She cranked the free-fall shuffler. “Mind if I deal?”
Clearly, Abbot didn’t want to play this game, but could find no graceful way out of it short of using Influence to divert them. Abbot himself had taught Titus the cardinal rule: Influence is a last resort. Too much, and people notice their own odd behavior.
Oblivious to all this, Mirelle went on. “We’ll secure our gear in the middle of the table. There’s a small net around here somewhere—”
While she and Gold searched the edge of the table for the compartment and found the net, passing it around to collect instruments, Abbot fidgeted. Titus had never seen his father squirm before.
When Gold passed the net, Abbot made a business of fumbling with the Varian. Suddenly, Titus knew. There’s a piece of the SOS transmitter in there!
Abbot met Titus’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed. Titus said, “This should be interesting. I’ve never won at poker against you, and I’ve never seen you stymied by any mobile unit. But there’s always a first time for everything.”
Abbot relaxed, and with a cool smile passed the net back to Mirelle. Fastening the net as close to the middle of the table as she could reach, Mirelle announced, “I warn you gentlemen, I do intend to win. I hope each of you does, too.”
Abbot replied, “Rest assured, I do.” And to Titus, he added, “And I shall.”
I did it! He’s going to play!
While Mirelle dealt the cards into four holders and spun the table to distribute them, Titus thought hard. Connie had said that the Tourists’ transmitter was being shipped to Project Station in seven components, which would then be assembled to look like a legitimate part of the probe vehicle. In place, it would function as what it resembled, but it would also contain the powerful transmitter that would use the probe’s antenna to send a signal hidden under the humans’ message. Two of the Tourists’ transmitter components would be programmed at Project Station: the targeting computer that would turn the antenna in case the humans sent their signal in the wrong direction, and the component holding the message itself.
Three components were at the station already, two more were being shipped as cargo, and two were being hand carried by their agent. By Abbot. One, at least,