Kay was in the kitchen talking to Susan, who was making coffee, when Rita came back downstairs. Josef and Scipio were still talking by the stove in the next room. There was no sign of Jarrow or Leon.
"What was that all about?" Rita asked. "It sounded like tempers were getting frayed, so I stayed out of it."
"Very wise," Kay said. She sat down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "Oh, I got a bit carried away about some things that Jarrow takes seriously. It was a mistake. I find it difficult to stay calm about matters I feel strongly about, and he's no different. People are never more irrational than when their prejudices are under attack."
"Welcome to the human race," Susan murmured, setting mugs down on a piece of board to use as a tray. Kay sent her a tired smile of thanks. Susan indicated the coffees and raised her eyebrows at Rita. "You want one too?"
"Thanks, I'll fix myself one."
"It's all there." Susan picked up the board and disappeared with it back out to the living room. Rita moved over to the worktop to fill another mug.
"So where is he now?" she asked Kay over her shoulder.
"Gone out for a walk to get some air, and hopefully cool down a little. Josef sent Leon with him."
Rita finished making her drink and sat down with it at the table. "You really are from Offworld, then?" she said, changing the subject. "You live out there?"
"Yes. Not born there, of course, although a generation is growing up now that's genuine Offworld native."
"Where were you from originally?" Rita asked, intrigued.
"Germany. It used to be divided once. I don't know if you'd remember anything about that."
"It got split up after some war, didn't it? Was that the big war over resources, that the demands of industrializing made inevitable?"
"It wasn't quite like that," Kay said.
Rita shrugged. "I only know what they said at school."
"I studied computer science at first," Kay resumed. "I wanted to get into Artificial Intelligence and understand how the mind works. That was the latest explanation then, you see. It's funny how people are always finding that the mind works like their latest technology. It never does, of course, but it shows how they always think that the latest technology must be the ultimate. At one time the brain was an elaborate telephone exchange of nerves going in and out. Then, after servomechanisms were developed, it worked by feedback loops and error signals. And then after that, naturally, it had to be a computer."
"Which turned out not to be true either," Rita said.
Kay shook her head. "It's based on the selective training of neuronal groupings, not information storage. A brain isn't so much a receptacle of programs as an expression of them." She sipped her coffee. "Anyway, so I moved from computers into neurophysiological research. But everything was starting to get political by then. The Consolidation had formed and was closing its eastern borders to enforce sanctions against the FER states that weren't following the Green initiatives, and ideological factors were hampering all fields of research. So I crossed over with some friends in the aftermath of the final Soviet breakup . . . probably as much from curiosity and the hope of excitement as for any reason that made sense, I suppose." Kay smiled distantly at the far wall. "People called it the Wild East, in those days. There were so many conflicting stories coming back that no one knew what to believe. We were all young, thirsty for change and adventure. In the years that followed, I was swept along with the thrust offplanet that began from there . . . and now if anyone asked me where home is, I'd have to say Tycho."
"You've actually been to the Moon," Rita said -dreamily.
Kay gave a short laugh. "People probably said the same kind of thing about America once."
"What made you come back?"
"I thought that was pretty obvious. I finally did get to work in the field I'd always wanted to, and ended up asso-ciated with Professor Ulkanov, whom you heard about. He already knew that some of the things Ashling was doing were revolutionary—I told you about the communications grapevine that scientists use to evade the Consolidation controls. Ulkanov had already got Ashling's name put on Pipeline's target list, so when the news came through that Ashling had contacted Pipeline independently and wanted to get out, it was given top priority. I agreed to come down and help out."
"I thought Tycho was supposed to be some kind of militarized base up there," Rita said. "Isn't it like an indus-trial gold-rush camp? You know, all violence and lawlessness. People being exploited for high pay in hazardous conditions, and that kind of thing?"
Kay laughed again, with open amusement this time. "I know that's what people are told," she said. "But why do you think communications are controlled here? Ours aren't. There are over fifty thousand people at Tycho now. Three times as many at Copernicus. The Newton and Aristotle colonies are being expanded further. There are pilot bases on Mars."
"Those are colonies, not military platforms? It said on TV the other week that they're building a beam-gun on one of them that could incinerate Chicago."
"They're space habitats," Kay assured her. "Do I look like a comic-book scientist who wants to rule the world? I've got three children who go to school at Tycho. They live in a warm, comfortable house below the surface"—she gestured with a hand, indicating the place they were in—"not like this box, sticking up into the cold, with wind blowing through the clapboard and bugs in the walls—which is part of a complex that includes a mall, small but it has everything, pool, and leisure center all outside the door. Their friends are just a walk away, and there's a dome with a park in it two levels up. It's our place, and we chose it. It wasn't allocated or assigned, we can sell it for whatever we can get, anytime we choose, without needing a transfer approval, price clearance, or certificate of paid-up taxes. Does that sound like a shack in the Klondike to you?"
"I wouldn't have thought you had children, somehow," Rita said, propping her chin on a hand and staring. "How old are they?"
"Oh, Max is fifteen. He's into all things electronic. And there are two girls, Maria, who's twelve and wants to do the same as me, and Annette, who's a year younger and hasn't a clue yet. But there's plenty of time. I'm an old relic, though, by today's standards."
"Oh, listen to her. Don't say that," Rita protested.
"Offworlders have children early. Teenage parenthood is common; in fact it's encouraged. So I'll probably be a granny before very much longer."
"Who's your husband?" Rita asked.
"His name is Joao. He is from Brazil. We met in the Ukrainian Republic."
"What does he do?"
"He's a mathematician, involved in plasma dynamics. When the Consolidation barriers went up, it created havoc in what used to be called the Third World. The South American dictatorships fell apart, and Africa and the Islamic areas were economic shambles with the collapse of investments. The productive elements from everywhere flocked into the new FER states, and that was where the momentum came from that created a new renaissance. The irony of it all was that what drove them together were the Green policies that the West was trying to foist on the rest of the world to keep the Third World backward and stop it -becoming an industrial competitor. But the frauds and hoaxes that were manufactured as pretexts for imposing political controls got out of hand, and the fanatics who believed it all ended up in charge. So while the West was shutting itself in with its own delusions, capital from East Asia and Japan was launching the expansion offplanet, from the FER. That's why the Offworld links today are to there and not here."
"Tony used to talk about defecting to the FER," Rita said, staring down at her mug. "It's funny, listening to you and thinking of some of the things he used to say. Maybe he knew more about what was going on than I realized. We always wanted a large family. He always wanted to open a bookstore. . . ." She looked up at Kay and hesitated. "Do you think there's a chance that he really is still there -somewhere—in Jarrow, I mean? Could he be revived somehow? Is it possible?"
"You were very fond of each other, weren't you?" Kay said. Rita nodded mutely. Kay sighed. "I really can't say. I wouldn't want to raise your hopes unduly. . . . But if you're looking for a way to help, then find a way of getting him to cooperate in finding Ashling. If it is possible at all, Ashling is the one who'd know how."
"Why should he?" Rita asked. "Why should Jarrow want to do that? He'd be wiping himself out."
Which Rita could see; so why hadn't she been able to see it too, before she went shooting her mouth off? Kay asked herself glumly. Why was it that the most obvious things in life were always the last ones you saw?
Jarrow went straight up to his room when he returned. He was still in a sullen mood ten minutes later when a knock sounded on the door.
"Who is it?" he called gruffly.
"Rita."
"What do you want?"
"To talk for a minute."
He opened the door. She came in, and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at him.
"I assume they've sent you up here to have a go at me too," Jarrow said, sounding not particularly friendly.
"Somebody has to do something if we're ever going to get out of this," Rita replied evenly, refusing to be put on the defensive.
"That's easy. They can simply disappear."
"And leave you to do what?" she said, bordering on sounding derisive. "Report back to Kankakee and say you're not dead, it was just a small case of AWOL?"
"You still think of me as Demiro, don't you?" Jarrow said. "Well, I'm not. Why won't you get it into your head that I'm a different person? The Army has listed him as dead. It would be a lot easier if you accepted it as meaning just that, and went back to picking up your own life the way you were. I'm sorry I intruded into it as I did, just when you were finding your feet again, but you know how it was, and I can't change that now." Rita said nothing. Jarrow looked across at her sourly. "Or isn't that good enough? Have you still got hopes that I'll revert back to being Demiro, somehow? Is that why you want me to go back to Pearse? That's what you think might happen there? It would suit you nicely, wouldn't it. Never mind how I might feel about it."
Rita ignored the barbs. "They would hardly reinstate Tony, even if they could, would they? He's officially dead. Why would they want to complicate everything by bringing him back? If they reinstated anyone, it would be Gordon, Samurai—whichever one you call him. He's the one who showed up at the Hyatt to begin with."
"No, they wouldn't," Jarrow agreed. "But Ashling might know how to do it. You'd like that, wouldn't you. You want them to find Ashling."
For the first time, Rita's voice took on an angry note. "And why not? What do you expect? Look, I've just about had enough of hearing about your problems all the time, and how you feel about everything. Now how do you think I feel, for a change? Look, mister, I'm sorry and all that, but Richard Jarrow died last May. Naturally. He had his run, and it was over. In Tony's case it was different. His certificate had to be faked. Yours didn't. You don't belong here. You're living in a stolen body."
Jarrow's jaw tightened obstinately. "Maybe, but it wasn't my doing. Stolen or whatever, it happens to be the only one I've got. I can't change that now, either. Do you -really expect me to give it up?"
"I'm not expecting anything. I'm just asking you to help find out what the facts are. I'll take the risk that it might mean losing Tony for good. Those people downstairs obvi-ously believe in the things they say, and they're prepared to back them. Why can't you show the same conviction about the things you say you believe in? I mean, I can't see what your problem is. If what you say is right, you don't have anything to lose."
Jarrow frowned at her. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Look at it this way," Rita said. "Scipio and the others are prepared to let you go back into Pearse, thinking the way you do now. But to be any use to them, you'll have to stay in touch, won't you? In other words, they'll have to set up some channel for you to communicate back to them. But once you're among your friends, there'd be nothing to stop you from setting Pipeline up and sending them straight to the FSS. But Scipio's saying he'll risk that, which is another way of saying he's pretty sure that when you find out what they're really up to there—these people that you have so much trust in and defend so touchingly—you'll change your mind. So what do you have to lose? How come you can't match it?"
Jarrow stared steadily at her. Clearly this was a line of thinking that he hadn't pursued himself.
"And anyhow, what alternative do you have?" Rita tossed in as a final word.
But although her words had made an impression, Jarrow still wasn't of a mood to be pliable. "I'm sick of all of you," he snapped. "I'd like to be thought of as something other than a laboratory rat for once. For your information I do have alternatives. I have contacts, back in Minneapolis. I can go west, to the mountains. I can take care of my own life without anyone at Pearse, and without you. Now please leave me alone."
But later, after turning the thought over in his mind for some time, he had to concede that Rita had a valid point. Seriously, what alternative did he have? He obviously couldn't stay here forever. And if he refused to cooperate and Pipeline gave up and ditched him, what then? He'd be left on the streets with some cash that would soon run out, a few credit cards that could be invalidated at any time, no job, and no ID apart from a couple of scraps relating to someone who didn't exist. He didn't really believe his line himself about going to the mountains with Paul—he'd met Paul only once, in a bar. At the bottom of it all, despite his talk, he was, inside, still a timid, not very adventurous schoolteacher.
Unwittingly, driven by her own misguided hopes, Rita had given him his answer. Obviously the thing to do was go back to Pearse and get among the people who had the real power to change things. Then he could forget all about Pipeline and their fantasies. There really was no immediate conflict of interests. If Kay and the others hadn't been more interested in peddling their infantile ideals and getting him excited, instead of concentrating on the matter at hand, he'd have seen it for himself in the first place.
Very well, he told himself. So let's get on with it.
He went back downstairs and sought out Scipio. "Tell me again how this would work?" he said.
"Very simply," Scipio replied. "All you do is go back to the people who sent you and tell them you've been having blackouts and amnesia. We'll give you details of a means of getting in touch with us later, should you wish to do so. I'm sorry if we made it sound like an elaborate espionage undertaking of some kind. I don't really see what the problem is."
"There isn't any," Jarrow told him. "Very well, I'll do it."