"They have to go back. They insist."
"Good riddance," added Rose. "I wouldn't want them here."
Chrys frowned, puzzled. "Let them speak to me."
"They refuse," said Jonquil. "They say we'll be in big trouble if they don't get back."
Refusing to talk to a god—she did not care for that. But then, if Eris were the Elysian equivalent of Andra, his blue angels might mean business. She had better try to reach him.
To her surprise, she reached him immediately, in his ship on the two-hour trip back to the Elf moon. "I'm so glad you called," he told her. "We were terribly concerned; it was my fault entirely they got left behind. Look, I keep another ship docked at Iridis; a first-class rig, you'll find. Why don't you take it and meet me in Helicon?"
A new version of the oldest line ever. Chrys crossed her arms. "I'm rather behind today. Couldn't you turn around and stop back?"
"I'm afraid I have a cabinet meeting. But afterward, I'll show you my collection and take you to the best restaurant in Helicon."
"Great Host," called Rose. "We've found another couple of stowaways—hiding among the neurons."
She hoped her smile remained steady. "Very well, Citizen," she said smoothly, "I'll meet you in Helicon."
As soon as he was out, she blinked at the purple button.
But Selenite was on another call, and Andra and Daeren were both out of town. That was odd. There had to be someone on call, always. She started to call the hospital, but she remembered how the worm-faced medics had treated her before Daeren arrived.
"Jonquil, search the cortex as best you can. Whoever you find, put them all in dendrimers."
In her window a sprite appeared, wearing a talar and train of butterflies. Chrys jumped, thinking it was Eris. But it was Daeren, at the spaceport terminal on his way to Elysium, dressed like an Elf. "I just checked my calls," he said. "Did you reach someone?"
She hesitated. He looked so official, off to lobby Elysians for micro rights. "I'll manage."
"It's okay," he said, "my flight was delayed. What's up?"
"An Elf visitor left his people with me, and they want to go back. But—"
Daeren moved toward her, his face looming large. "Who?"
"Eris Helishon."
"Stay where you are. Sartorius will get there."
"I don't get it," she exclaimed. "Eris is an Elf, not a vampire."
"He's worse."
Within minutes Doctor Sartorius was there, and Daeren himself. Still in his talar, like Eris turned dark; Chrys felt disconcerted. "It's all right," Daeren assured her. "Your people probably found most of them. But we'll need to do a thorough search."
Sartorius extended a tendril. "The invaders could be hiding anywhere, even the marrow of your bones. To find them, we have to scan your whole system for arsenic. But the scanners can't tell one micro from another. So tell yours to tag themselves with this molecule." A molecule of about ten atoms appeared, rotating before her eyes. "Those who wear this tag will be passed over."
"And the others?"
"Don't think about it," said Daeren quietly. "Give your people something to help them feel better."
They must be horrified, she realized. She took an AZ. "Don't be afraid," she told Jonquil. "You did well; you will all live." She turned to Daeren. "I want to know," she insisted. "I want to know what's going on, and how that damned Elf could get me in trouble."
"Andra told him to stay out of Iridis."
"Why didn't you report him?"
Daeren exchanged a look with Sartorius. "He's the brother of Arion."
"Brother? Elves don't have brothers."
"Not genetically." Elysians were conceived by computer, according to calculated genetic makeup, and brought to term invitro. "He and Arion were born the same year, in the same shon. They were raised together; he has Arion's complete trust."
"But what's wrong with him?"
Sartorius's tendril extended and tightened around her scalp. "He's a slave of a kind we've not seen before. None of the outward signs; his masters avoid that. He began as a carrier, but the masters took him over, exterminating his own people, perhaps without him even realizing."
"Nonsense—he must have known."
"They could have altered his memory," said Daeren. "Or perhaps he colluded with them."
"Why?"
"Whenever he passes on the strain, they grant him power over their next host. He can use people as he pleases."
She could have gone to his ship and been trapped. Her hair stood on end. "Why take over a carrier? Why not a defenseless host?"
Sartorius said, "Elysium is free of disease and crime. All Elysians are scanned daily for any pathogens or signs of criminality. So, masters could never take hold in a micro-free host. Their only option would be to mimic a safe population, within a known carrier."
"The strains we usually see in Valedon aren't smart enough to do that," added Daeren. "This is a new, virulent strain."
"And he tests other carriers," Chrys added. "He's like Andra, their chief tester. He could infect them all." Chrys looked up in horror. "What about Ilia? Is she—"
"Ilia gets tested by Andra."
Chrys recalled Ilia's first greeting, "Give my best to Andra." The Elf gallery director actually came out to primitive Iridis for testing. "So Ilia knows."
"She must suspect something. The smart ones do. But we can't accuse him without proof."
"What about the micros he gave me—aren't they proof?"
Sartorius said, "I've typed their DNA; I'm sure they would match his. But would he provide accurate data? By now, surely he has confederates."
False carriers, secretly serving Enlightenment.
"Besides," Daeren added, "how could we prove where we got your strain? It's starting to show up here in Iridis. Among the elite; people who think they're too smart for addiction."
The doctor's tendrils withdrew, whipping back with a snap. "I need to go, I have cases waiting. You're clear, Chrysoberyl. We only found two that your people missed."
"That's pretty good," said Daeren. "Better than ..." He did not finish. Reflectively, he watched the post-shaped doctor descend past the watching caryatids.
"Let us visit the true blue angels," her people insisted. "They need to hear about this."
Chrys sighed and handed Daeren a patch. Then she leaned back, gazing despondently at the gargoyles Xenon had placed along the ceiling. "Don't say anything—I feel stupid enough already."
"Don't feel too bad," Daeren told her. "Eris tried the same with me."
She stared at him. "You?"
In his talar, Daeren looked different, somehow, more worldly. "He came to see me last year. His people offered me everything— any human to control, they said. He would soon control all Elysium, so why should I not have Valedon?"
She blinked. "For what price?"
"To be their slave, of course, and send others regularly to Endless Light." He added levelly, "And of course, their host wanted the same thing of me as of you."
Chrys shuddered. "How could anyone—"
"Eris was like me, once. You never know how low you can go." He turned to her. "You painted Endless Light—what would you give for it?"
Her scalp crawled, remembering. "What did you tell him?"
The veins stood out in his neck. "I should have played along. Instead, I offered him this." He held up a green wafer, the hundredfold dose of AZ they gave slaves to stun their masters and help turn themselves in.
"And then?"
"He left. With a dozen of my visitors." Daeren shook his head slowly. "There was no way to get them back. They have no rights." He added, "I hope they died quickly, but I doubt it. We had to change all our codes and procedures."