And one thing I wanted to know was what thehell she wanted with Seventh Heaven. Dream companies weren’texactly a hot item, last I heard; most people preferred real life.A dream company based in Nightside City seemed like an especiallybad investment.
I remembered the case that got me offEpimetheus in the first place, when Sayuri Nakada had been connedinto buying up worthless real estate by convincing her there was away to keep the sun from rising and cooking Nightside City. Whatwas it with Nakadas making stupid investments in a doomed city? WasKumiko being conned, the way Sayuri was?
I knew it wasn’t the same people; Sayuri wassuckered by a group operating out of the Ipsy, the Institute forPlanetological Studies of Epimetheus, and Grandfather Nakada hadput a very definite stop to that. Those scammers were gone, sentfor reconstruction.
But maybe they had friends. I frowned. Maybethe attempt on Grandfather Nakada had been an act of revenge, ormaybe it had been intended to make sure he didn’t do to thesepeople what he did to Paulie Orchid, Bobo Rigmus, and Doc Lee.Maybe someone was running a con on Kumiko Nakada.
I wouldn’t expect someone her age, in herposition, to fall for any such scheme, but maybe they had a betterpitch this time than the grit Sayuri bought into.
Or maybe it wasn’t Kumiko after all; maybeChantilly Rhee was the one being conned. She was young enough to bethat dumb.
Or maybe she was part of the con, and Kumikohad bought in because she trusted Rhee.
And all that assumed there was a con,and this wasn’t something completely different. I didn’t actuallyknow what was going on at all. It was even possible that ChantillyRhee had been a front for Yoshio himself, and not Kumiko
But I intended to find out.
Chapter Fifteen
I called ahead, of course, to let Grandfather Nakadaknow we were coming. I didn’t tell him exactly who “we” were,though-I don’t care what encryption Ukiba used, I didn’tthink interplanetary communications could ever be secure. I didn’tmention his daughter, or Seventh Heaven, or his own alleged death;I just said I was returning with passengers and needed to talk tohim in person as soon as he could arrange it.
I got an acknowledgment that was even vaguerthan my own message, saying that my situation would be discussedonce we were on the ground.
I sent a follow-up, saying that some of ourbusiness was urgent. I didn’t say what; I let him assume it wassomething to do with the murder attempt.
Really, though, it was Dad and ’Chan. Dad wasstarting to lose it, being out of his tank and no longer having hishealth monitored; the ship’s medical banks could probably havehandled him just fine if he’d allowed it, but he didn’t trust me,or the ship, or anyone else, and said he would wait until we’dfound him a new dreamtank. He insisted that the shaking hands andcoughing fits and occasional spasms, and his inability to keep fooddown, were nothing to worry about.
And ’Chan was paralyzed from the waist down,which was more serious than I had initially thought. It wasn’t justthat he couldn’t walk; there were other things he couldn’t do,either. He was more cooperative than our father, so the ship wasable to catheterize him, but still, I knew we needed to get thatimplant out as quickly as possible.
I thought about sending a message that wewanted a doctor standing by, but decided against it. GrandfatherNakada was two hundred and forty years old; it was a safe bet healways had doctors nearby, ready to work.
At least Singh was no problem. Now that wewere actually on the way to Prometheus he seemed subdued andnervous, as if he was having second thoughts about his impulsivedecision to get off Epimetheus. He’d left his belongings behind,and his friends, if he had any-he’d told me he didn’t have anyfamily, but not everyone we care about is related to us. I figuredwe’d be able to turn him loose with minimal fuss, maybe give him afew kilocredits to get started on his new life, and he’d be smooth,despite these belated doubts.
Yoshio-kun was another matter. I hadno idea what I was going to do with him. I didn’t know whether hisexistence was legal on Prometheus-I knew making a recording wasillegal, but bringing in an already-existing one was anothermatter. The old man had done it more than once, but that didn’tmean it was actually legal, and I wasn’t him, and it might make adifference that Yoshio-sempai was still alive. I could haveasked the ship, but I didn’t actually care whether he was legal,only about whether I would need to hide his existence, and hidinghim from his original was likely to be far more important thanhiding him from the law. The old man might not want a copy ofhimself around, and not everyone thinks there’s anything wrong inerasing artificial intelligences.
And it was the original Yoshio’s ship. I wasfairly sure the ship already knew Yoshio-kun existed, andPerkins definitely knew, but I didn’t see any need to remind anyoneby asking about the laws.
Of course, Yoshio-kun probably knewbetter than anyone else what Yoshio-sempai was likely to do,so I could have just asked him, but I was busy with Dad and ’Chanand I didn’t get around to it.
Perkins put the ship down on the privateNakada field, where I was not happy to see daylight, and plenty ofit; we were back in the realms of light. My feet felt heavier inPromethean gravity, as well, and the air that cycled in fromoutside smelled of ocean and volcanic smoke.
By the time I got through the airlock a dozenfloaters were waiting for me, glittering in that horrible sunshine.“I have two people here who need medical attention,” I told thenearest one the moment I emerged; I was shading my eyes with myhand and blinking, but I could see that it was a blue and silverfloater that looked like the one I’d talked with in the Sakaibuilding. It might have just been the same model, though.
“Yes, Mis’ Hsing,” it said. “They will beseen to immediately.”
Floaters aren’t exactly known for accuratelysimulating emotions such as surprise, but I still thought this oneseemed to be prepared for my request. The ship had probably been incommunication with the planetary networks before we landed.
“I expect you to be discreet,” I said.
“We have strict instructions that everythingabout you and your activities is to be treated as confidential,” itassured me.
“Good.”
“You have an appointment with Yoshio Nakadain forty minutes. He trusts you will be prompt.”
I stopped blinking and stared at the floater,my eyes starting to water. “Forty minutes?”
“Yes.”
I had half expected him to be waiting on thelanding field, but apparently he was in less of a hurry than I hadthought. That meant I could oversee loading Dad and ’Chan intomedical transports, and I could promise Dad that he would be goinginto a dreamtank as soon as we were sure he was healthy. Whichwasn’t necessarily true, since that hadn’t been included in theagreement I made with the old man, but it kept everyone calm.
Singh was in the airlock when the medicsleft, staring out at the daylight. I realized he had probably neverseen daylight first-hand before. We watched them go, and then Singhasked, “What about me?”
“Mis’ Nakada would appreciate it if you wouldremain aboard the ship for the present,” the blue-and-silverfloater said.
“Am I being held?”
“Technically, you are trespassing, so theNakadas would be within their rights to hold you. Mis’ Nakada wouldprefer to keep this friendly, however.”
“Friendly sounds good to me.” Singh turnedand headed back into the ship, probably looking for a snack, orhoping to talk Perkins into a game of something. I suspected hewould just as soon wait until dark before venturing out into thethick, cool air of Prometheus.
And then it was time for me to head out to myappointment. Three floaters escorted me across the field andthrough a few corridors to a pleasant little office where daytimecloudscapes drifted across the walls, but where there were noactual windows.