"So here's what we need to do.

"We need to spend that time repairing the company's image. The Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp has a huge image problem, and it won't just go away. We can't just sweep it under the rug. We keep fighting this same battle for dignity over and over again, day after day, and it's got to stop. The strongest hand we have to play now is public trust-and we don't have any.

"So how do we repair our image? We hold a press conference as soon as possible like any normal, ethical company would. Tel the world we have nothing to hide. Once that's done, we get to work clearing up these charges from the Meme Cooperative. Settle them, plead guilty to a few if we have to, it doesn't matter-just get everything resolved as quickly as possible so we can move on.

"The most important thing is to postpone this MultiReal exposition indefinitely. We can say we're doing it out of respect for Margaret Surina so we don't completely lose face. We just need to back off and let things simmer down. Then, in a few weeks-when we have a better hand-we sit down with Magan Kai Lee again and start the dialogue in earnest.

"So who's with me?"

n.o.body answered. A confused silence hung over the parlor like smoke for several minutes. Final y Jara pursed her lips, walked back down the hal to the room she had appropriated as an office, and shut the door behind her.

23.

Friday began with a death threat and only degenerated from there.

Jara received the message only minutes after confirming her reservation for an auditorium at the Surina Enterprise Facility. The threat was written in a hackneyed Cyril ic font that only the uneducated or imbecilic would find sinister.

COME TO CASED Su51wii LW1D WC WILL KILL 4OU JUST LIKE 4OU KILLED MAAGWIEUT.

The a.n.a.lyst sighed and beseeched Beril a's ceiling for deliverance from craven anonymity. She knew the wise course was to ignore the message altogether and let Surina security deal with any errant a.s.sa.s.sins. Isn't that what Natch would do? Instead, Jara lay on the vinyl couch and ruminated on the issue for twenty minutes. Was it in poor taste to discuss the dispensation of Margaret Surina's business in her own auditorium? Or was it a fitting tribute?

Jara couldn't tel .

She decided to cancel the reservation and move the press conference to a Creed Objectivv auditorium instead. It was her first real decision as de facto master of the Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp. Already she felt like a failure.

Jara stretched, corral ed her wayward hair the best she could, then shambled down the hal in search of food. The servants she pa.s.sed gave her curt nods, but none of her etiquette training had prepared her for how to respond. We're crashing in someone's house without permission because our company's founder has been murdered and our company itself is on the rocks. Should we be grateful that Beril a hasn't kicked us out yet, or irritated that she hasn't been more welcoming? Jara decided on the former and quickly scoured the Data Sea for an appropriately humble expression to throw on her face.

But if dealing with the household staff was awkward, that was nothing compared to dealing with her own staff.

When Jara final y stumbled into the kitchen, she found Horvil, Merri, Benyamin, and Vigal already a.s.sembled and sporting looks of weary fort.i.tude.

They al clammed up the instant she rounded the corner. She supposed they were trying to make sense of the scene in the parlor yesterday, trying to figure out why Natch had made such an abrupt departure and whether he was real y gone for good. But what could she say? What could she tel them that wouldn't sound petty and self-serving?

Jara poured a cup of nitro from the carafe on the counter. "Al right," she said. "Let's get started. Let's fix some things."

n.o.body responded. Four pairs of eyes watched her and waited.

Wil ing herself to be calm, Jara took her nitro over to a barstool and sat. "First things first. Has anybody tried to track down Quel yet?"

"Council stil isn't saying anything," said Horvil glumly. "They've probably taken him to the orbital prisons by now."

"Wel , we're going to need him. Try again. See if you can find out where he is."

The engineer leaned back in his chair and wedged one chubby knee against the edge of the table. "How?" he said. "You think Len Borda'l answer a Confidential Whisper?"

"Not today, please, Horv," sighed Jara, chugging down her cup of nitro and immediately getting up for a refil . "I have no idea what happened to Quel .

But the Defense and Wel ness Council has to have a public relations liaison or something who can point you in the right direction. If al else fails, just fol ow the drudges."

Horvil nodded. Jara wasn't sure she could trust him to find anything-he hadn't exactly pul ed out al the stops to locate Natch after his disappearance a few weeks ago-but she couldn't afford to spend any more of her mental reserve worrying about it. She moved on.

"So can we stil work on MultiReal?" continued Jara. "Did Quel or Margaret leave any doc.u.mentation behind?"

The engineer pursed his lips. "Technical y. But if you think my notes are hard to fol ow, you should see theirs. Might take me years to wade through al that c.r.a.p."

"Wel , do the best you can. Ben, where are we with the rol back issue?"

"Handled," said the young apprentice, trying his best to avoid looking Jara in the eye.

"Wel , it'l be handled soon. I cal ed in a few favors on the floor, and it looks like thesabotage' was a little overblown. A few pranks here and there. I think we'l have everything back to normal in about a week."

"And ... your mother?"

Ben shrugged. "She's not interfering."

Jara exhaled in relief. A lack of interference from Beril a was about the best she could hope for at this point. She remembered the puzzled and fearful look the matriarch had given her yesterday after Natch stormed out of her office; Jara could only guess what she had been thinking.

"Now ... Merri and Vigal." The a.n.a.lyst turned to face the pair. "I'd like you two onstage during the press conference this afternoon. Otherwise it'l just be me and Robby Robby up there-not the most trustworthy people in the world right now."

The two fiefcorpers nodded, their faces barren of emotion. Jara was trying to make a joke, but now she realized it hadn't come out like that.

"I can't believe you're actual y going through with this stupid press conference," said Benyamin in characteristical y high dudgeon. "We don't have a working product. We don't have a fiefcorp master. s.h.i.t, Jara, you're the only person with a business license from the Meme Cooperative right now. What are you going to say?"

"I'm not going to say much of anything, if I can help it," snapped Jara. "The point is not what I say. The point is that I'm going out there and saying it. I'm giving notice."

"Notice of what? That Natch is gone?"

"No, I don't want to spil that for a few more days, until things calm down a little. I'm just giving notice that the Surina/Natch Fiefcorp has changed. That we're an honest company now.,, "So ... you're going to tel the drudges we're an honest company, and then you're going to mislead them by implying that Natch is stil running it?"

The irony slapped Jara in the face and made her blush. She hadn't thought of it that way.

Benyamin grimaced and shut up.

"Listen," said the a.n.a.lyst, her fingernails plowing long, tired rows on her scalp. "I'm not trying to get this business going again just as a matter of principle. Don't forget, while your business licenses are suspended, the fiefcorp can't pay you. Now Horvil and Benyamin might be able to weather a few thousand years without a fiefcorp stipend-"

"Presuming Aunt Beril a doesn't cut us off," muttered Horvil.

"-but I'm wil ing to bet Vigal and Merri can't. I certainly couldn't. So unless we get this business rol ing soon, some of us could be in a real heap of trouble."

Jara guzzled down her third cup of nitro, wel on her way to a personal best. She discarded the cup on the counter and surveyed her fel ow fiefcorpers.

The room felt cloistered, devoid of oxygen, and the Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp felt more like a mythical ent.i.ty than a viable business. Why can't I inspire this company the way Natch does? thought the a.n.a.lyst. What am I doing wrong?

"Al right," she said final y, realizing that the rest of the fiefcorpers were waiting for a word of dismissal. "Let's get to it."

If the vibe at Beril a's estate was one of dejection, the vibe backstage at Creed Objectivv was more upbeat, thanks to Robby Robby's relentless optimism. The channeler was indeed a wonder. It seemed like some divine force had wound him up forty years ago and left him to cruise in a smooth, unbroken line ever since. Jara wondered if he'd ever expe rienced a moment of doubt, whether he'd ever had a cheating companion or a malicious boss or a friend who had lied to him.

Robby poked his head around the corner at the crowd of murmuring drudges in the auditorium. "Looking pretty grim out there, eh, Frizzy?" he said.

The channeler's young sidekick Frizitz Quo hung on his elbow like a purse. "I thought you said grim was your specialty, boss," he replied.

"It is!" grinned Robby, walking over to hook his other elbow with Jara's. "Give me a grim and uncooperative audience, Mistress Jara. I'l give you grim and uncooperative customers!"

Jara smiled weakly. With everything happening in the fiefcorp-not to mention the world-how could Robby and Friz stil maintain the same smooth facade? Sure, their channeling firm had other horses in its stable. But Robby had to know that an opportunity like MultiReal only came along once in a lifetime.

"Everybody ready?" said the channeler.

Merri and Serr Vigal walked up, their faces shel acked with bio/logical y generated calm.

"Sure," said Merri.

Jara looked at the apprentice's jacket pocket and saw nothing but fabric. "Aren't you going to wear your Objectivv pin?"

Merri shook her head. "I've been suspended from the creed, remember?"

The a.n.a.lyst felt the blood draining from her face. No, in fact, she had total y forgotten.

She took a surrept.i.tious peek around Robby's hair to the giant black-and-white swirl embossed on the stage just a few meters away. "I'm so sorry, Merri," she said, sotto voce. "Should we-do you want to-"

Merri cut her off with a brusque wave of the hand. "I'l be fine," she said.

"Time to go!" bel owed Robby, and before Jara could recover her composure, they were onstage.

As she stepped into the spotlight, Jara realized that she should have held this press conference at the Surina Enterprise Facility after al . Objectivv auditoriums were notoriously free of adornment, and this one was no exception. A stage, a podium, a few thousand seats: that was al . No subtle SeeNaRee effects, no soporific Jamm music in the background. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, that would have suited Jara just fine. But there was a cloud of anger wafting through the crowd of three thousand drudges that didn't bode wel for the presentation. Not even Robby's minions stationed around the auditorium were able to dispel the haze of distrust in the air.

Robby Robby took center stage, while Jara, Vigal, Merri, and Frizitz lined up dutiful y behind him. Robby's previous expression of levity had been replaced by a look so solemn it approached the funereal.

"Towards Perfection to you al ," said Robby to the crowd. "It's good to see so many of you here under such trying circ.u.mstances. We're stil a little disorganized after the last infoquake-but heck, I guess it's been that way for everyone.

We're going to do the best we can to give you some answers and just hope things aren't too rough around the edges.

"And now, without further ado, I'd like to turn the stage over to someone many of you have worked with before. I present Jara of the Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp."

The smattering of light applause hit Jara like birdshot. She took a deep breath, stepped into the spot Robby had just vacated, and clasped her hands together on the podium in what she hoped was the stance of an honest businesswoman.

She looked at the crowd: women, men, frowns, grimaces, scowls.

"Towards Perfection," said Jara. "I stand before you today as a representative of the Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp, and I'm asking for your trust."

Light muttering, uncomfortable shifts from the audience. Someone t.i.ttered.

Jara felt her stomach lurch. It had sounded like a great beginning when she practiced it this morning at Beril a's estate. Jara immediately realized what was wrong: she had written a statement tailored for Natch to deliver. She scrol ed madly up and down the little speech floating before her eyes, looking for something confident she could say in her own voice, and came up empty.

Five seconds pa.s.sed. Ten. A ConfidentialWhisper from Robby: "Mistress Jara ... ?"

Fl.u.s.tered, Jara segued into the more prosaic statement she had been holding for a backup.

The Surina/Natch MultiReal Fiefcorp was deeply saddened by the news of Margaret Surina's death. Natch had heard the dreadful tidings directly from the Council's chief solicitor, but the fiefcorp didn't have any more information about the circ.u.mstances than anyone else. Margaret's contributions to science and humanity were incalculable. Doubtless she would be remembered as the greatest of the Surinas.

Jara paused, wishing she could cal an end to the whole thing right there. "Any questions?" she said.

A florid Sen Sivv Sor stepped to the front of the crowd, and the crowd held its breath.

Jara wondered what kind of wrangling and infighting and backroom deal-swapping the drudges used to determine their pecking order. She couldn't imagine any valuation system that would put carrion crows like Sen Sivv Sor and John Ridglee at the top. And yet, somehow, they always were.

Sor fixed Jara with a deadly stare. The red birthmark on his forehead glowered at her like an accusation. "Did Natch arrange to have Margaret Surina murdered?" he said, his voice a serrated blade.

Jara was prepared for the question, but not the vehemence of the questioner. "No, of course not," she replied. "Natch and Margaret always had a perfectly friendly and professional relationship. I can't imagine why Natch would have wanted to hurt her."

"Then where is he?" cried the drudge. "My sources tel me the Defense and Wel ness Council arrested him."

"I'm sorry, but your sources have been misinformed. Natch was in London for a fiefcorp meeting yesterday. Since then, he's been taking inventory of our databases to make sure nothing was damaged in the infoquake. As far as I know, the Council hasn't named Natch as a suspect in any investigation."

Sor nodded, clearly not satisfied with Jara's answers but unwil ing to press his first-questioner status any further. He bowed and stepped out of the way. Behind him, the line of angry questioners snaked far up into the audience. One down, thought Jara.

"What do you know about this Islander the Council dragged out of the Revelation Spire?"

asked the next questioner, a man with a simian brow and low-dragging knuckles to match.

"The Islander Quel is a member of our fiefcorp and one of the princ.i.p.al engineers of MultiReal," said Jara. "He's been in Margaret's employ for years now, since-since the beginning." She reached inside her memory for a number to back her up and was surprised to discover that she had none.

Everything's happening much too fast, the a.n.a.lyst thought. Has anyone even had a chance to ask Quel how long he's been on the project? Long enough to gain Margaret's trust, of course-but how long is that? Two years? Ten? Twenty?

"Obviously we're not pleased with the way the Council treated him in Andra Pradesh," she continued. "It's pretty clear there's some misunderstanding going on, and we hope to have it resolved shortly."

"The rumor on the Data Sea," said the next drudge, "is that this Islander murdered Margaret and tried to take MultiReal for himself."

Jara had put together a perfectly innocuous laugh this morning in Minds.p.a.ce, and now she let it loose on the crowd. "That's ridiculous," she said. She gave Robby a sidelong rol ing of the eyes, which Robby returned on cue. "Quel 's been a trusted member of Margaret's staff for years. He knows most of the Surina security force by name."

The laugh failed to appease the audience. In fact, it only seemed to inflame them further.

Drudges began to step up in rapid succession and shoot questions at her, one after another like machine gun fire.

"If this Islander is so trustworthy, why did the Council arrest him?"

"Wasn't he just covering for you so you could execute a hostile takeover of the company?"

"Natch was already implicated in the murders of his hivemates during initiation. Why wouldn't he do it again?"

"Why did the Meme Cooperative suspend everyone's business license at the fiefcorp but yours?"

"How do we know you didn't have anything to do with Margaret's death?"