Ten

Jarid paced around the confines of his private workrooms in the Guild quarters, almost as if measuring the limits of his allotment. Yes, lesser status, lesser space; that was how it worked. A slight sneer came to his face, and then, with an effort, he forced himself to forget about it. There were more important things to do than worry about the size of his rooms. If he could actually get Markis to play, without gaining direct knowledge of the game he was playing into, or of the real nature of Jarid’s plans, then all the better.

He stood looking at his communication screen for a few minutes considering. He knew what he was going to say, but it didn't hurt to go over it one more time in his head. Markis would have to feel threatened enough to drop what he was doing and come rushing back to the Guild rooms. Jarid would have to feed him enough information that he'd doubt, without giving the entire thing away, and that was a delicate juggling act. His brother had never been a really big thinker, however, and that should work to Jarid’s advantage.

The screen stuttered and flickered a few times before the image stabilized. Jarid pursed his lips as he was waiting. Already the interference was bad. He drummed his fingers on the table, killing time while the various connections directed the call through pathways that would guarantee the best signal. It took longer than usual, but at last, the symbol indicating connect wavered into solidity in the screen's center. It flickered once or twice, shuddering and jerking in and out of definition while he waited for Markis to respond. His brother was probably out at the mines right now. He'd have to get back to the screen to answer, but any call at this time should be enough to prompt him to hurry back to the mobile communicator wherever he might be. He pictured Markis reaching for his prompter, the look of concern on his face, a muttered curse, then the looks, this way and that, working out how he was going to make his way to the communication station. As Jarid waited, the screen faded in and out. The image wavered, shook, solidified and sparked across with random lines. It seemed to be taking forever. He stood and stretched a few times waiting for the tone to arrive.

At last, the insistent chime drew him back to the desk, and he sat before the screen. His brother's image swam into view, broken by static and random lines. If this was the best connection they could get, interference from the stellar storms clearly had to be strong, getting stronger.

“Jarid,” said his brother's voice from the speaker, overlaid with hissing white noise. “What is it? What's happened.”

“Markis, hello. How are things at the mines?”

“Yes, they're fine at the moment. Pretty quiet, considering.”

“No trouble with the Kallathik?”

“No, none to speak of. But come on, Jarid. You didn’t call me simply to discuss what’s going on at the mines. What is it? What's happened?”

Jarid chose his next words carefully. “It's father.”

His brother's face loomed larger in the screen. “What's happened?” A note of panic in the voice. That was good. Very good.

“Is he all right? What’s happened?” His face was now reflecting the panic.

“Yes, yes, he's All right. Relax. Nothing's happened to him, but there are things you need to know.”

Markis's features eased slightly, but a frown wrinkled his forehead. “And couldn't this wait?”

Jarid reached out and gently traced the fingers of his right hand up and down the side of the screen and then leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Markis, no, it couldn't wait. There are things you need to know about right now. As soon as I found out, I had to get in touch with you. Before you spoke to father.”

“I don't understand.”

Jarid maintained the conspiratorial tone. “There's a lot you have to understand, Markis, and understand now. Someone's been at father. There have been accusations. We need to talk as soon as possible, and we need to do it in person.”

Markis cocked his head to one side on the other end. “I'm sorry. I didn't get that. Too much interference. You said something about someone being at father, about something else. What are you saying?”

Jarid nodded in understanding and repeated what he'd just said. Markis's face drew back from the screen. The image wavered again and then he spoke. “This is going to have to wait. I have things to do out here, Jarid. You know that. We have to get everything ready. I can't trust the people out here to do it properly without supervision, and I certainly can't...” His voice disappeared into a burst of static.

“Sorry? Repeat the last.”

“I said I certainly can't trust the Kallathik.”

“Yes, I know. But this is far too important.” He paused, waiting for maximum impact. “Do you value your position, Markis?”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. Do you value your position?”

His brother started to look concerned anew. “What are you...?”

“You need to get back here. We need to talk in private, plan how we're going to deal with this together. We can't trust this link, Markis. You have to get back here. This is serious.”

Markis looked torn. “Are you sure?”

“I'm absolutely certain. How soon can you get here?”

There was a long pause. Markis was clearly debating with himself, assessing his priorities. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision, and leaned forward again after glancing off to one side. He looked tired and harassed. “All right. As soon as I can. Where will you be?”

“I'll be here, my rooms, waiting for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Markis nodded, and Jarid cut the connection, forestalling any further questions. He sat back, fingers linked behind his neck. Good. Markis would be off balance by the time he arrived. He had let him have little enough information to keep him guessing. Anything serious enough to have him called back from the mines was serious indeed. He nodded to himself then tapped at his screen to call up a strategy game. He would have some time to kill before Markis arrived.

One by one, he selected, and then lined up his chosen forces, positioning them carefully. He made one or two adjustments, repositioned a unit here and there and then rethought the composition of one of the groupings before pressing the sequence to start the game. He didn't know how old the program was, but it was one of the few non-utilitarian things saved from the wreckage of some of the first colony ships. He'd only discovered it by chance when trawling through some of the old records. One day, maybe, they'd be in a position again to have such things, to have them generally available, but such a time was not yet. Until then, he would use his own position within the Guild hierarchy to get whatever he could. He scratched the back of his head, grimaced, made another adjustment, and then finally satisfied with the composition of his forces, keyed the sequence to start the game.

#

Jarid was still playing when Markis finally arrived, looking hot and flustered. He hung on the doorframe slightly out of breath. Dust from the mines was still on his clothes. Good, he’d wasted no time at all getting back. Jarid nodded once, glanced back at the screen, determined that he had a good position and took his time checking his decision was right, before pressing to save the scenario. He’d recall the game later.

“By the Twins, Jarid. You call me back here for some mystery, the least you can do is give me more attention than your bloody game.”

Jarid swiveled his chair to face the door. “No, Markis, you’re right. I’m sorry. Come in.” He waved a hand. “You’d better close the door behind you.”

Markis did so and crossed to sit nearby. Taking a position on the edge of the couch, he smoothed his trousers, then his sleeves, wiping away some of the dust. Jarid waited, watching. He could see some of himself in Markis’s face, but they were different, clearly different.

“Jarid, will you just cut playing with me? I’m not one of your damned games.” His annoyance was clear on his face.

“No, you’re not, Markis. And if you’ve quite finished spreading dirt all over my couch, you might give me your proper attention. You have to realize that this is all a game when it comes down to it. Especially where Father is concerned. It’s all politics, and you damn well know it, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Yes, so what? I can get on without getting tied up in all that. There are things we have to do.”

“But you want to be in a position to be able to do them, don’t you?” Jarid leaned forward.

A flicker of confusion, and then a frown. “What do you mean?”

“What I told you on the communicator. Someone’s been at Father, making accusations. They’ve convinced him that you’re involved in some plan to agitate the Kallathik and seize power in the Guild.”

“Who? What?” Markis got to his feet, looking aggrieved. “That makes no sense at all.”

“I don’t think that matters. What matters is that the old man believes it. Whatever was said was convincing enough to sway him.”

“But that’s ridiculous. How could he possibly think — ?”

Jarid raised a hand. “It doesn’t matter. Sit down, Markis. What matters is that he does think it.”

“But I’ve done nothing!”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Who, Jarid? Who?” Markis bunched his fists, looking around the room as if seeking someone to strike. “Who would want to do this to me?”
“Just sit down, Markis. You’re not going to achieve anything getting all worked up like that. We have to approach this calmly.”

Slowly, Markis relaxed his fists and then sighed. “Yes, you’re right. I’m just tired.” He lowered himself to sit on the couch again. “Tell me, how bad is it?”

“Bad enough. Father’s talking about removing you from the current operations. You know how he gets. Once he’s got an idea...”

Markis made to stand again, but Jarid gestured for him to stay.

“What good is it sitting here?” said Markis. “I have to talk to him.”

“No you don’t. You know you can trust me to look after things at this end. I just don’t think it would be a good idea to see him right now. You know Father; he’s liable to do something rash. No, I think it would be better if you let me handle him. If you can trust me to do so, that is? You do trust me, don’t you, Markis?”

Markis nodded slowly. “But then what should I do?”

“You should go somewhere out of the way for the moment. Get down to one of the estates, out of the mines and out of the city. You’ve probably done enough to make sure everything’s running smoothly at the mines. I’ll wait for the old man to calm down, and then I’ll choose my moment, get him alone and talk to him quietly. We’ll stay in communication with each other, as much as we can, and I’ll let you know when it’s safe to face him yourself. This is clearly something from within the Guild. Someone is taking the opportunity of the current instability to make their move. Leave me to deal with Father and to find out who, and that way you’ll be out of direct line. I think that’s safer.”

Markis shook his head. “You drag me in here just to tell me to go away again?”

“I know,” said Jarid. “But it was the only way, Markis. You have to see that. The only way I could convince you how serious things were was to talk to you face to face.”

Markis did stand this time. He crossed and placed his hand on Jarid’s shoulder. “You were always better at this stuff than I was, Jarid. I think what you’re saying makes sense. We need to be able to stand together whatever happens. There are difficult times on their way, I know it. It looks like we’re in for a rough season. If you’re sure I shouldn’t talk to Father…”

Jarid looked up at his brother’s face, the expression of concern, the tinge of hope. The poor gullible fool.

“Trust me, Markis,” he said. “I know we’re in for a rough time. Don’t worry. I’ll fix things at this end. Now, go, make yourself comfortable at the estates. This shouldn’t take too long.”

“Thank you, Jarid.”

“No, Markis. It’s what we have to do. Oh, one last thing, though...did anyone see you arriving?”

Markis frowned again and thought. “I don’t...well, yes. They saw me drive in at the gates. There was someone on the front desk. Yes, yes, I suppose so.”

“No matter. But you’d better get going before someone important sees you’re here. Get to the estates as quickly as you can, and I’ll cover things here.”

Markis gave his shoulder a brief squeeze. “Thank you again, Jarid.”

“Just go,” he said.

Markis crossed the room and, giving one last backward glance and nod before closing the door behind him, he left. Jarid waited a few moments then stood and crossed to the window. He spotted his brother’s groundcar and noted with satisfaction as it sped out the gates. Markis was right though, and he should have thought things through a little better. He’d nearly ruined the whole thing. He thought he’d managed to cover it though.

“Now we start,” he said quietly to himself.

Chapter Eleven