“Just like the differential encryption,” said Ammond.
“This is the basis of Cicada Corp’s power,” said M’boto. “And this is an original twentier. We found it ourselves, fifteen years ago.” He stepped up beside Toby. “Mr. McGonigal, you might be able to help us. We’ve been able to recharge this unit, but we can’t get it to recognize our commands. I’ve tried, and so have Perdi and Rustoka, here.” He indicated the other two men. “It just ignores us. Could you give it a go?”
Puzzled, Toby shrugged. “All right.” He knelt in front of the bot, looking for its biometrics plates. There was one on either side of its blocklike head. He put his hands on the plates and looked into the deep black of its lenses. “Wake up, bot.”
Nothing happened.
Then the twentier shook, just as Toby was pulling his hands back. It swayed from side to side, thrusting several legs out and curling them back in again. It raised itself its full half meter in height and said, “Ready,” in a perfectly ordinary twentier voice.
Toby stood up. “There you go,” he said, dusting his hands as he turned to his hosts.
They stood absolutely frozen, wide-eyed, and gaping at the bot in … was it fear? “What the—”
Ammond was the first to recover his poise. He stepped forward and clapped Toby on the shoulder. “Well done, son,” he said in a low tone.
“I … I can’t believe it,” said Perdi. Rustoka just kept pulling at his collar, as if it was suddenly too tight.
Toby crossed his arms and glared at them all. “All right,” he said in annoyance. “What’s this all about?”
M’boto came unfrozen. He glanced at Ammond. “He doesn’t know?”
Ammond shook his head. “But now’s as good a time as any.”
“Well.” M’boto turned to Toby. Son, I think you should—”
“I’ll do it,” interrupted Ammond. He took Toby’s arm and tugged him in the direction of the black couches. Suddenly nervous, Toby sat, and Ammond lowered himself opposite. The others stood in a tight knot, watching silently.
“You didn’t wake me up and take care of me out of the goodness of your hearts, did you?” said Toby.
Ammond bobbed his head back and forth, neither admitting nor denying it. “We would have rescued anybody in your position. We’re not monsters. But you, Toby, have a particular value nobody else could have.” He nodded at the twentier, which had thumped back on its metal haunches and was scraping its carapace with a side leg. “Nobody else in the universe could have legitimately unlocked that bot. Only a McGonigal. You were right, Toby—it’s one of yours.”
He shook his head. “But that would make it—”
“Fourteen thousand years old. Sure—but it’s been frozen in the ice, at nearly absolute zero, for that whole time. Preserved, just as you were. If it’s from Sedna, as these men said—and if it’s yours—then you really are a McGonigal.”
Toby shook his head. “So what?”
“So what?” burst out M’boto. “Why, that makes you—”
“—The rightful owner of Sedna.” Ammond glared at M’boto, who opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and closed it again.
Maybe it should have taken a moment for this to sink in, but really, Toby understood instantly. It was this exact sort of thing that had made his parents decide to flee the solar system to begin with.
“All the worlds are owned,” he said. “Is that it?” Nobody answered.
“The trillionaires,” he went on. “They owned everything on Earth, on Mars. They owned the moon, Mercury, Europa, and Titan. Either you owned a world, or you worked for those who did. It’s like that here, isn’t it?”
“Not as bad,” Persea said hurriedly. “There’s a lot more freedom in 360. But still … Toby, you have to realize. You own a world.”
“Your parents’ title to Sedna is still legal,” Ammond explained. “The way the lockstep worlds skip forward through time, laws have to be recognized for thousands of years of realtime. Since you’re the direct heir of the family that claimed the planet, Sedna is legally yours.”
Toby sat back, crossing his arms. “And I suppose there’s a lot there, now?” Somehow, all he felt right now was disappointment.
Ammond was nodding eagerly. “Cities, mines, launch facilities, bot factories, a whole ring of captured comets … it’s the oldest of the lockstep worlds. Toby, you’re one of the richest people in the lockstep.”
For a while he just sat there, seething. They all watched him nervously. Then: “When were you planning on telling me?”
Persea came and sat down next to him. “Well, you tell me this,” she said gently. “When would have been the proper time?”
She had him there, he had to admit. Still. He half turned away from her. “What’s the catch? Why do we need them?” He looked at M’boto and his friends.
Ammond seemed relieved that Toby hadn’t fainted or stormed off. “Two reasons,” he said eagerly. “First of all, there’s going to be resistance when you announce yourself. A lot of resistance. I mean, after all, there’re layers of history on Sedna now; it’s got its own hereditary ruling families, and feuds and disputes and land settlement claims going back … well, all the way. You may have legal title to the planet, Toby, but you’re going to need powerful allies to make it stick.
“Secondly … well, you’re not legally of age yet. Biologically, I mean, which is how we have to judge it. That means you’ve got two choices at this point: become a ward of the state or … let someone adopt you.”
Toby stared at him. Then he laughed. “And that someone would just happen to be you?”
Ammond looked away. “I can’t say I didn’t think about the possibility,” he mumbled, “but it’s your choice, ultimately.”
“So that’s why you’ve been so nice to me. Because I’m your ticket to the trillionaires’ club!” He jumped to his feet.
Ammond jumped up, too. “Now, Toby, don’t be like that—”
M’boto made a motion with his chin, and Perdi and Rustoka fanned out as if they meant to block Toby’s exit. At some point the domestic bots had followed them downstairs, and one stood right in front of the stairway.
Toby assessed the situation. Then he snapped, “Twentier! Heel!”
The mining bot clattered over to crouch at his side. Chips flew from the tile floor with every step it took. It was more than a match for anything in this house and M’boto had to know it. “Come on,” Toby said to it. “We’re leaving.”
“Oh, sit down!” It was Persea, but she wasn’t talking to Toby. She stood between him and the others, and was glaring at them. “You, you stupid … boys!”
Toby hesitated. “This young man knows nothing about us,” she went on. “Nothing! Why should he trust any of us? And if he really is the Owner, then we’re going to need that trust if he’s to help us. Sit down!”
The men sat. Toby had been watching, and now he said, “Help you do what?”
Persea put a hand to her brow. She wasn’t looking at Toby but out the glass wall at the blue infinity there. “It’s … political. A matter of injustice and rights that need to be wronged. You probably won’t care. But it’s important to us.” Now she did look at him. “I know you think Ammond and I are well-off. We are, I suppose, but we’re the only ones in our families who can say that. Same’s true for M’boto and these others. But our families—our communities—are suffering, and they’ll keep suffering unless we find a way to free them.
“When Ammond and I found you, and realized who you might be … well, the temptation was just too much. Maybe, we thought, we could appeal to your better nature … but you have the right to do whatever you want. It’s just … like Ammond said, it won’t be easy to regain your birthright.”