Station Day 20
Seignur Veeoni’s Private Workroom
Seignur Veeoni carried the glass of nutrient M Traven had pressed upon her at walking into the lab.
She took her usual tour, stopping at each bench, noting progress, or lack of it, and at the last bench making particularly certain that the small stasis safe in which she had locked Jen Sin yos’Phelium’s memory beads was still locked.
Satisfied, she turned away, sipping her drink, and considering the shape of the coming shift. First, she would speak with Joyita, a discussion she keenly anticipated. Here was the opportunity to learn something new, which was always exciting, and possibly to gain a colleague worthy of her. Ordinarily, Seignur Veeoni did not allow anyone to be her equal in her field. She had, after all, invented her field. But an architect who was also an independent logic—who knew what insights he might offer?
She paused where she stood, sipping her drink, and compiling a list of possible topics of discussion.
“Seignur Veeoni,” Tocohl Lorlin’s voice flowed out of the speaker. “May I speak with you?”
Seignur Veeoni frowned.
“I have a meeting very soon,” she said.
“I have one question, only,” Tocohl assured her.
Seignur Veeoni considered. She was well aware that it was not the number of questions, but the complexity, that consumed time. Was she not still trying to answer the question Yuri had posed to her within hours of her birth?
On the other hand, Tocohl was a colleague, and she had not stinted of her time or her efforts in service of their mutual project.
Seignur Veeoni drank off the rest of the nutrient, and said, “Ask.”
“Are you aware of the Lyre Institute for Exceptional Children?”
“In fact, I am.”
“What is your opinion of them?”
Seignur Veeoni did not point out that this was two questions. After she gave her opinion, there would doubtless be a third question, that being how these things unfolded. In the course of answering, she might herself learn something, though the Lyre Institute was not a subject that interested her overmuch.
She said so.
“The Lyre Institute, by which I mean the Directors of the Lyre Institute, are over-grasping thieves who lack the capacity for creative thought. They steal rather than invent, and they only steal that which they perceive will give them power, which is their overriding interest. However—”
She turned and put the glass down on the workbench.
“You need not concern yourself with the Lyre Institute, Pilot Tocohl. They may come to Tinsori Light, if they are reckless—and they are—but they will not trouble us for long.”
“You sound very certain,” Tocohl observed. “May I ask why?”
“A team raided my lab—not the Directors, you understand, but their tools—on purpose to steal my work with the tiles and racks.”
“Did they succeed?”
“They did.”
“This does not concern you?”
“It might, had they stolen what they came for. Instead, they stole what I left for them, which was a very different prize. They may be nearing production now. I do not judge that the necessity of deriving and fabricating a faristo would slow their progress appreciably. They do have a deal of manpower.”
An amber light was showing on the leptonic dashboard.
“Do you know that Mentor Jones is an—escapee—of the Lyre Institute?” Tocohl asked.
Seignur Veeoni bent closer over the dashboard.
“He did not tell me so, but it seemed likely. The Lyre Institute is the largest producer of mentors, given their interests. Mentor Jones is intelligent and creative. I have not observed him to be avaricious. He is well quit of the Directors.”
“Mentor Jones is concerned that agents of the Lyre Institute will arrive at Tinsori Light, seeking to—reattach him.”
The Leptonic Disarray signal was a curious anomaly; statistically neutrinos ought to be behaving themselves better at these energy levels. Still, with so many Struven units nearby, some flux within the legacy rack-and-tile systems was to be expected.
The amber light was a warning, only. It would bear watching, but for the moment—
“Seignur Veeoni?”
She sighed, cast her attention backward, and listened to Tocohl’s last verbalization.
“I would say that the Lyre Institute is bound to come to Tinsori Light—that was the reason for their theft of my work,” she said, straightening. “It really is best, Pilot Tocohl, to let them come. They cannot succeed in capturing Tinsori Light—he no longer exists to be captured. For the rest of it, they must learn not to steal from me.”
She shrugged.
“Perhaps you are concerned for the mentor’s safety. My opinion is that he is safer here from the machinations of the Lyre Institute than anywhere else in the universe.”
“Seignur Veeoni.” It was M Traven’s voice coming out of the speaker now. “The call you were expecting has come in.”
“I am coming,” she answered. “Pilot Tocohl, I am needed elsewhere.”
“Yes. Thank you for your time, Seignur Veeoni.”
“You are welcome,” Seignur Veeoni said, because that was what one said. “I hope I have answered your questions usefully.”
She did not wait for an answer, but turned and walked briskly toward the door and her meeting with Joyita.