“What about the backup station, at Salekhard?” Aldrin asked. “Surely they’d take over.”
“I want two safety nets when civilization teeters.”
Again they traded digital glances. “It’s not our constellation, Caesar, but with time and access to the current systems, I imagine we could develop a substitute.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know, I’ll ask. A lot would depend on whether we can have access to the proprietary parts of the Saneer-Weeksbooth system.”
“Why do you need their system?”
“We’d need to control their cars. We don’t have enough, and ours are slower, plus…”
“Plus?”
J.E.D.D. Mason answered more bluntly than Voltaire dared: “The world will not be content handing such power to Utopia. There will be backlash.”
MASON scowled. “Then make it for me. Let it be my Masons, not Utopia, who hold it in the world’s eyes. I will not watch this halt the bloodstream of my world.”
“All right, Caesar, we’ll see what we can do.”
“Thank you.” Even an Emperor does, on occasion, thank. “How’s your part of the investigation going? Well, I hope?”
“Yes, Caesar. The Traceshifter Artifact was only on for two point two seconds at its second activation, inside the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’house, but we learned much more about its initial effects. We are preparing a report to present to all Seven soon.”
“Good. And Mycroft has been forthcoming?” Here the iron returned to MASON’s voice.
“As forthcoming as they can be when they don’t really know anything. The ‘Canner Device’ is very badly named.”
A glance at me. “Have they been forthcoming about Andō and Ganymede?”
Vizors traded confusion. “Caesar? I’m not sure what you mean.”
MASON’s eyes fixed on me with no less menace than the barrel of Ockham’s gun. “Andō summoned you to Tōgenkyō, Mycroft, minutes after the break-in was reported. And Ganymede summoned you to La Trimouille.”
“Ye-e-e-e-es, Caesar.”
“Are they frightened for the cars? Or for themselves?” There was disgust in the set of his jaw.
“Both, Caesar, I would say.”
“Why?”
The word transfixed me, like a needle through a butterfly. It was not just Danaë’s blackmail that made me hesitate, her power to reveal that I still have my method to move unseen. The Mitsubishi need no blackmail to command me. I serve the world, all of it, every Hive, every human. What I destroyed robbed all, so it is to all that I owe my great debt. I owe Andō, from whom I took Kohaku Mardi, Jie Mardi, probably young Ken if he had lived to choose a Hive. I owe Ganymede from whom I took Malory Mardi, and the half of Seine that belonged more to the Humanists than to her dear Apollo. I owe Utopia. But by law my life is Caesar’s. And I owe Caesar too, for Geneva Mardi, for Aeneas, for Chiasa, Jules, and I owe, owe, owe, owe, owe them for Apollo.
“Their Grace the Duke suspected Sniper,” I answered; that much was easy. I could be good witness to Ganymede’s innocence, and ignorance. “I helped them confirm it was unfounded. They were upset, worried, largely about protecting the cars, the Saneer-Weeksbooth system, a-and the peace.” Trapped in Caesar’s gaze I shivered reflexively, feeling that I must have transgressed, sinned, even though, in fact, it was the truth.
“And Andō?”
Panic took me. Caesar could see it, I read it in his face, imperious like Zeus when he gazes on others, but, for me, he becomes Hades.
If there is a limit on how much righteous punishment Cornel MASON will inflict upon me, that Limit stands beside him. “I can answer, Pater. Chichi-ue asked Mycroft about the misnamed Canner Device.”
Three breaths as MASON’s mind turned. “Why did Andō learn the device was involved so long before I did?”
“That question is of interest, Pater. Perhaps the Tokyo police reported the break-in to Chichi-ue before calling Romanova. Or perhaps Chichi-ue had a special vigil already prepared.”
“Why?”
“Chichi-ue consents that I disclose to you alone, Pater, their inherited complicity.”
“Inherited?”
“Prior aliquis publicus Mitsubishus auctor fuit. (Some earlier Mitsubishi official planned/designed/authored it, i.e. the device.)” That part had to be in Latin to keep Andō’s truth secret from Utopia, but English was enough for the rest. “Its root and cradle are expunged, its conception rued and condemned by Chichi-ue and all his peers, but fearsome is the public storm which threatens if exposure links Japan to the blame and name of Canner, so fearsome that the dread of it is wielded by the Mitsubishi splinters one against another even now, imperiling many beyond Chichi-ue.”
“I see.” Thinking in Latin already, Caesar doubtless found his Son’s tangled English easier to parse than the frowning Utopians did. “Then I must remind the minor Directors once again that my friendship extends to Andō, not to them, and that my hand is gentle only with those I trust. Is Ganymede aware of this tie between Andō and the Canner Device?”
“Non credo. (I think not.)”
Slinking a pace toward the shelter of the Porphyrogene made me bold enough to speak. “I ha-a-ave told everything I know about it, Caesar, to Aldrin and Voltaire, and I am wo-orking to track down the people I knew who were connected with it at the time.” The time, reader—for me there is only one time, and Caesar knows it. “But I’ve been busy with the Censor and…” I could not name the other things.
“Then you may pursue that further when I finish with you tonight.”
“Prior sumus, Pater. Manere debes. (We are prior, Father. You must wait.)”
I froze here, awaiting Caesar’s verdict. We all had to. In this Masonic sanctum all were Familiares, even these Utopians, the gray armbands dull against their coats like damage on a painting. Theirs, though, were special, edged in white like J.E.D.D. Mason’s (though without his purple trim), to show that, while the Emperor trusts them absolutely, the Utopians do not trust their Members to his Capital Power. These Utopians are not Caesar’s but loaned to Caesar, and there is a guardian constellation ready to snatch them back to the heavens. Are you surprised, reader, that you have never heard of the Familiaris Candidus, White Band Familiaris? It is a recent office, created for Apollo Mojave by Cornel MASON when he came to the throne twenty-nine years ago. That J.E.D.D. Mason’s armband too is edged in white is often taken as another proof that he is not the successor.
“Esto, Pater,” the Porphyrogene conceded. “Prior fias. (You may be first.)”
MASON nodded thanks for his Son’s concession.
“Quid vis, Caesar? (What do you want?)” I asked.
Why did Caesar answer in English? I think so the Utopians could witness what good use he put me to. “I will have from you what you give the Censor. You will tell me what these new Seven-Ten lists will do to the world, and what the old lists would have done if only Black Sakura were violated and not the Anonymous and Brillist lists as well. Andō, Ganymede, and the Anonymous are giving this part of the affair far more attention than it seems to deserve. You’ll show me why. Then you may resume your other work.”
In my heart I raised a silent, grateful prayer that he did not want to ask me about my presence at the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’. As fear eased, I felt at last the touch of after-midnight. “I will do it, Caesar,” I answered, “but I don’t think I can do both jobs tonight without another dose of anti-sleeps, and I’m over my limit again.”