Double Helix 03_ Red Sector - Diane Carey [103]
“He couldn’t. Something else must’ve happened. Orsova would never let us get past him to talk to anybody else… he kept everything to…”
Everything he’d seen, the inconsistencies and irritating facts, stewed under his skin. He thought of those last few hours with Zevon, with Orsova, the last beating that had been auctioned to an alien-hating Pojjana. Bruises nearly rose on his skin as if by habit, summoned by the nearness of those old miseries. Suddenly, as if being tapped on the shoulder, he remembered what he had said to Orsova during that last beating.
“That’s it! Orsova as planetary leader makes no sense at all unless it finally sank through that iron skull that Zevon really could predict the Constrictor! I told him myself! I tried to convince him! If after I left he decided to check it out and Zevon convinced him, Orsova could’ve taken that message to the government, succeeded in warning the planet, saved a bunch of people and parlayed that into power “Grasping his head to keep it from blowing off, Stiles raved, “That’s got to be it Orsova’s getting credit for Zevon’s work!”
Speck stretched his leg, thinking. “Why would Zevon agree to such an arrangement?”
“Oh, he’d agree in a flat minute,” Stiles tossed. The familiarity rushed back. “Zevon didn’t want power. He was never afraid for his own life. He wanted to redeem himself in his own eyes by saving more people than he killed when his team’s experiments started the Constrictor”
“A composite graviton-traction beam with polarity that high, as well as the phaser-resistant envelope the CST encountered, can only be generated with very delicately balanced quantum charge generation. They plainly have warp energy, but it seems to be planet-bound.”
“I know why” Stiles said. “Zevon wasn’t interested in space. He’d been there. If he’d had influence and resources, he would’ve turned all the energy he could control to saving the planet from the Constrictor and other outside threats. Looks to me like the Pojjana turned out to be pretty sharp, at least sharp enough to follow instructions, learn physics and engineering… even Zevon couldn’t do this by himself. They still don’t have massive warships or anything, but in spite of that we were in for a real surprise when we got here.”
“If Zevon is the real genius behind the planet’s sudden advancement,” Spock continued, “and I agree that is likely, then Orsova is in constant danger of his secret’s being found out.”
Stiles looked up. “He sure wouldn’t want you and me blabbing it around, would he?”
“No. Nor would he want Zevon taken away. No deal or favor from the Federation could be as beneficial to him as hayhag Zevon here, with a pact to remain behind the scenes.”
Coming to his feet, Stiles paced a few steps. “If all this is fight, then if Zevon leaves or dies, the jig is up. Orsova couldn’t keep up the illusion of being brilliant all by himself.”
“Sounds like a threatening symbiotic relationship,” the ambassador surmised. “Zevon has managed to bridge the Pojjana through this period of Constrictors which otherwise would have killed vast numbers of them. Instead, they thrive despite the Constrictor.”
“They thrive. Orsova thrives. Zevon’s here somewhere, alive, working for Orsova. And we’re here, locked in a stone crate.”
His words fell to the floor. With nothing more to do for the ambassador’s leg, Stiles sat on the other cot against the other wall, and descended into captivity as naturally as into a warm tub. Its arms folded around him. They’d been waiting.
The walls around them, stone and mortar, lichen and leakage, uttered their opinion. All the old perceptions came rushing back. Someone was using an autovac on a floor one story up. Water ran through the pipes. Other prisoners, probably, taking showers in the next wing. A flicker of the lights. Circuits needed adjustment. He stared at the opposite wall.