"Ah, Brierson! What are you doing out here, man? You should be playing. I watched you earlier today. You're good.
Wil turned to the voice. It was Philippe Genet and two Peacer women friends. The women wore open jackets an, bikini bottoms. Genet wore only shorts. The high-tech walked between the women, his hands inside their jackets, at they waists.
Wil laughed. "I'd reed lots of practice to he good wit something that wild. I imagine you could do pretty well, though."
The other shrugged and drew the women closer. Genet was Brierson's height but perhaps fifteen kilos less massive, verging on gauntness. He was a black, though several shades paler than Wil. "Do you have any idea where that glowball came from, Brierson?"
"No. One of the high-techs."
"That's certain. I don't know if you realize what a clever gadget that is. Oh, I'll bet you twenty-first-century types had something like it: put a HI light and a navigation processor in a ball and you could play a simple game of night volley. But look at that thing, Brierson." He nodded at the glowball, caroming back and forth off invisible barriers. "It has its own agrav unit. Together with the navigation processor, it's simulating the existence of reflecting walls. I was in the game earlier. That ball's a Collegiate Mark 3, a whole athletic department. If one team is short a player, just tell the ball-and in addition to boundary walls, it'll simulate the extra player. You can even play solitaire with it, specify whatever skill level and strategy you want for the other players."
Interesting. Wil found his attention divided between the description and the high-tech himself. This was the first time he'd talked to Genet. From a distance, the man had seemed sullen and closemouthed, quite in keeping with the business profile GreenInc had on him. Now he was talkative, almost jovial... and even less likable. The man had the arrogance of someone who was both very foolish and very rich. As he talked, Genet's hands roamed across the women's torsos. In the shifting of light and shadow, it was like watching a stop-action striptease. The performance was both repellent and strange. In Brierson's time, many people were easygoing about sex, whether for pleasure or pay. This was different; Genet treated the two like... property. They were fine furniture, to be fondled while he talked to Brierson. And they made no objection. These two were a far cry from the group with Gail Parker.
Genet glanced sidelong at Wil and smiled slowly. "Yes, Brierson, the glowball is high-tech. Collegiate didn't market the M.3 till..." He paused, consulting some database. "Till 2195. So it's strange, don't you think, that the New Mexicans are the people who brought it to the party?"
"Obviously some high-tech gave it to them earlier." Wil spoke a bit sharply, distracted by the other's hands.
"Obviously. But consider the implications, Brierson. The NMs are one of the two largest groups here. They are absolutely necessary to the success of the Korolev plan. From history-my history, your personal experience-we know they're used to running things. The only thing that keeps them from bulldozing the rest of you low-techs is their technical incompetence.... Now, just suppose some high-tech wanted to take over from Korolev. The easiest way to destroy her plan might ire to back the NMs and feed them some autons and agravs and advanced bobblers. Korolev and the rest of us high-techs could not afford to put the NMs down; we need them if we are to reestablish civilization. We might just have to capitulate to whoever was behind the scheme."
Tioulang was trying to tell me something similar. The evening cool was suddenly chill. Strange that a thing as innocent as the glowball should be the first evidence since Marta's murder that someone was trying to take over. What did this do to his suspect list? Tammy Robinson might use such a bribe to recruit. Or maybe Chanson was right, and the force that ended civilization in the twenty-third was still at work. Or maybe the enemy simply desired to own, and was willing to risk the destruction of them all to achieve that end. He looked at Genet. Earlier in the day, Brierson had been upset to think they might slide back to governments and majority rule. Now ire remembered that more evil and primitive institutions were possible. Genet oozed confidence, megalomania. Wil was suddenly sure the other was capable of planting such a clue, pointing it out, and then enjoying Wil's consternation and suspicion.
Some of that suspicion must have shown on his face. Genet's smile broadened. His hand brushed aside one girl's jacket, flaunting his "property." Wil relaxed fractionally; over the years, he had dealt with some pretty unpleasant people Maybe this high-tech was an enemy and maybe not, but he wasn't going to get under Wil's skin.
"You know I'm working for Yel‚n on Manta's murder, Mr. Genet. What you tell me, I'll pass on to her. What do you suggest we do?"
Genet chuckled. "You'll `pass it on,' will you? My dear Brierson, I don't doubt that every word we say is going directly to her.... But you're right. It's easier to pretend. And you low-techs are a good deal more congenial. Less back talk, anyway.
"As for what we should do: nothing overt just yet. We can't tell whether the glowball was a slip, or a subtle announcement of victory. I suggest we put the NMs under intense surveillance. If this was a slip, then it will be easy to prevent a takeover. Personally, I don't think the NMs have received much help yet; we'd see other evidence if they had." He watched the game for a few moments, then turned back to Wil. "You especially should be pleased by this turn of events, Brierson."
"I suppose so." Wil resented admitting anything to Genet. "If this is connected to Manta's murder, it may break the case."
"That's not what I meant. You were shanghaied, right?"
Wil gave a brief nod.
"Ever wonder what became of the fellow who bushwhacked you?" He paused, but Brierson couldn't even nod to that. "I'm sure dear Yel‚n would like this kept from you, but I think you deserve to know. They caught him; I've got records of the trial. I don't know how the skunk ever thought he could evade conviction. The court handed down the usual sentence: He was bobbled, timed to come out about a month after you. Personally, I think he deserved whatever you might do to him. But Manta and Yel‚n didn't work that way. They rescued everyone they could. They figured every warm body increases the colony's chances.
"Marts and Yel‚n made him promise to stay out of your way. Then they gave him a shallow disguise and turned him over to the NMs. They figured he could fade into the crowd there." Genet laughed. "So you see why I say this is an enjoyable twist of fate for you, Brierson. Putting pressure on the NMs Ms gives you a chance to step on the insect who put yon here." He saw the blank expression on Wil's face. "You thin I'm putting you on? You can check it out easily enough. The
NM Director, President-whatever they call him-has taken a real shine to your friend. The twerp is on Fraley's staff now. saw them a few minutes ago, on the other side of this game. '
Genet's gaunt face parted in a final smile. He gathered his `property" close and walked into the darkness. "Check it out, Brierson. You'll get your follies yet."
Wil stood quietly for several minutes after the other left. He was looking at the game, but his eyes did not track the glowball anymore. Finally, he turned and walked along the outskirts of the crowd. The way was lit whenever the ball rose above the fans. That light flickered white and green and yellow, depending on whether the ball was live, striking a "wall," or out of play. Wil didn't notice the colors anymore.
Steve Fraley and his friends were sitting on the far side cat the court. Somehow they had persuaded the other spectators to stand clear of the sidelines, so they had a good view even sitting down. Wil stayed in the crowd. From here he could observe with little chance that Fraley would notice.