“Why are you interested?” Murray seemed evasive all of a sudden.
“It’s starting to look as if Jevlenese plots and power games didn’t all come to an end with the Federation,” Hunt replied. “There’s some kind of scheme afoot that involves another faction, and the trouble that’s brewing is all part of it. Getting rid of Obayin could have been a preparatory move. He was being very cooperative with the Ganymeans.”
“Shit, I thought you were some kind of scientist. What the hell kind of science is this?”
“The kind that doesn’t want to see the Ganymeans kicked out of here.” Hunt gestured in the direction of the door. “Look at the mess this planet’s in out there. It should have been flying its own starships long ago. Instead it waits for Thurien handouts. The same forces that held our sciences back for two thousand years are regrouping on
Jevlen. That’s what we’re trying to prevent. And it affects you, too, Murray, because once a society becomes repressive, all forms of independence get repressed. And that wouldn’t be good for your line of business at all.”
“I like what Vie’s saying, Murray,” Nixie said.
But Murray shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t help. I don’t know anything.” His voice was clipped, and his face wooden. He was lying, Hunt could tell. Hunt could either confront him and risk alienating what could turn out to be a valuable contact with nothing to show; or he could let the matter ride for the moment and leave Murray time to think it over. He sighed inwardly.
“But you’ll let me know if you do hear anything?”
“Sure.”
Nixie stared uncomfortably at the table but said nothing.
“There was another thing,” Hunt said. “Tell me something about these ayatollahs.”
Nixie understood whatever ZORAC translated the word into, but Murray looked puzzled. “These what?”
“The cult leaders—the crazies who are stirring up these mobs, like Ayultha.”
Nixie supplied Murray a term in Jevlenese, which ZORAC returned as “awakeners.”
“What do you want to know about them?” Murray seemed to relax at the change of subject and listened while Hunt summarized what he had learned from Garuth and Shiohin. Nixie’s manner became strangely quiet as she followed.
When Hunt had finished, Murray looked apologetic—genuinely this time. “That’s fascinating,” he said. “And really, I’d like to help. But you know more about all this than I do.”
“You’ve been here six months.”
Murray spread his hands helplessly. “Hell, I’ve never gotten into conversations about stuff like that with the Jevs. You saw what our communication level was until just now, when you told me about that.” He waved at the panel. “Anyhow, they’ve got more loose screws than a do-it-yourself kit for the Eiffel Tower. Why do you care about them?”
“We think that Eubeleus and his Axis might be involved, too,” Hunt said.
“But he isn’t gonna be around much longer. They’re all taking off
for this other planet, someplace, whatever it’s called. It’s been all over the news. They’re shooting the first batch of green groupies up into orbit from Geerbaine already.”
“That’s got me beat, too,” Hunt admitted. “Okay, maybe it isn’t him, specifically. But I’m convinced there’s a connection with the cults somewhere.”
Murray could only show his hands and shake his head. “Sorry, doe, but like I said, it seems you already know more about them than I do. What else can I tell you?”
They talked about odd things for a while longer, but nothing more useful emerged. Eventually Hunt stood up and announced that it was time for him to be getting back.
“Take care, Vic. We’ll see ya around,” Murray said, seeing him to the door.
Hunt made his way back in the direction of PAC, far from satisfied with the results of his foray. He passed through noisy streets, lined with stalls displaying trinkets and bric-a-brac, and crossed a square of mostly closed frontages. Past there, he climbed a moving stairway that wasn’t—it had been under repair since the day he arrived. There were apathetic people squatting on sidewalks and, farther on, a line being handed what looked like food packages from the back of a trailer. He was pestered by vacant—faced children hassling for handouts, who could have been learning about Euclid or Newton, Bach or Magellan—or whoever the Jevlenese equivalents were, if they had ever had any.