LEGACY CHILD

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Porter stared moodily at the monitor on his desk. His home office was small and utilitarian—and white again. He hadn't wanted to make it a larger, more important space in his life. Work was for the office, not the home. However right now, he wished he had more stimulus to deflect his attention from the chaos brewing around him. Everything lay in tatters—his life, his mind, perhaps even his Progeny status. At the moment though, he couldn't figure out which things still mattered. The pressure to beat Danais at his own game gnawed at him. Abriel's foreignness was something else to contend with. He felt like he was in a race against both and had to accelerate his own plans or be swept aside by the currents.

            He flipped on his light-board and toggled into the main database in Reason Tower. Entering his passwords—amazed to find Danais hadn't cut off his access—he poked around idly, searching for lost colonist, genetic engineering, underground settlements, and couldn't come up with anything more than he'd already locked away in his own files. Further, he couldn't even find proof his data had been compromised. Then again, he wasn't a light-web expert. That fell to the Silver Lotus Clan, another tiny Clan crushed under the Red Rock Clan's heel. Just as his own had been, as well as the Blue Diamond Clan and two others. He paused. Had Danais been right? Was this all a move by his own Clan to bring it back to prominence? Unbalance the surface society until the Red Rock Clan lost its hold? No, couldn't be true. He couldn't fathom the levels of manipulation required. Best to focus on what he did understand.

            He sat quietly, composing in his head as he gazed out the window and contemplated Hope City's skyline. Abriel's people was his first priority. He'd started this; he had to finish it. Plus, he needed to head-off whatever Danais might try. After dismissing a dozen different scenarios, he decided to treat the Crescent move as a relocation project. He'd done hundreds of those. Could do it in his sleep, truth be told. Granted, the scale was bigger and the risks more personal. Further, it would be the untouched Northern territory—land set aside for the colonists, in theory and in law, even though no one expected the land to ever be occupied. But, rather than rip open the truth of the Crescent like he might tear off a bandage, he would orchestrate this project in the normal design stages with all the usual phases, and hope like hell no one noticed. Disguise the truth in the ordinary, oversee the work himself, and with his own connections managing the move. Who knew? It might work.

            His fingers flew across the light-board as he opened a new design file, entered the appropriate data-fill, created the RFQs, initiated and approved funding, put together time-lines. Everything he needed to do to make it reality—completely transparent, and yet so dangerous. Then he disseminated the data over the Chatter and let the unstoppable process begin.

            Now it was time to contact his Clan. He grimace and linked into a private com-line.

            A few seconds later: "Porter! So good to hear from you! Although, I didn't expect to see your face until next week," Effiny said, looking surprised as she peered through the monitor of the com-call at him. "I trust you had a pleasant time; you look well rested."

            Not true. He looked like he'd been hit with one of Abriel's pipe bombs. He'd tried to straighten himself out before contacting her. The best he could do was find a shirt and button it halfway. And now, watching the bright and cheery Effiny, he couldn't help but wonder how much she knew. How much did Taltos, the Head of the Clan, know?

            He hunched forward in his desk chair over the screen. "Danais was here," he said, not bothering with pleasantries. "Our Clan will need to pay reparations to the Red Rock Clan. He was shot in the ear."

            Effiny merely blinked. Then again, very little could rattle the Speaker of the Clan. "Accidental or on purpose?"

            "On purpose, unfortunately. It's going to be expensive."