Episode 1
SERGEI IN THE QUADNOT
And you say you come here often, Sergei?" Don
Renard Vole arched his eyebrows as he scanned the dubious surroundings
of the QuadNot Pub.
Sergei Zerb wiped the foam from his lips,
and winked at a passing waitress. "I personally prefer it to the Praetorian
Club."
"They let students of the Inztitut into the Praetorian now, do they?"
"If their parents happen to be named Milo and Alicia Zerb, they do,"
chuckled Don Germane Munro, known as "Old Dusty"
to many students and Dons alike at the Inztitut. "This is an excellent
brew, Sergei, by the way. What do they call it again?"
"Discon Dark Ale. According to Needermeyer,"
Sergei nodded toward the bartender, speaking in low tones with a young woman,
"the recipe was found tattooed on the back of an Anteek who was murdered
in Downshaft. Decapitated, I believe he was."
"How droll," observed Vole, sipping his white wine.
"So, Sergei," Munro continued, "word is that your father
has switched to our good friend Kronstadt's camp. Can this be true?"
"Father is still rather upset with the behavior of . . . shall I say,
a certain group of people, after the divorce. Mother took him for
half of everything, thanks to Devlin."
"Arturo Devlin, yes," Vole
patted his lips with his napkin, "now there's a fellow to have on one's
side."
Needermeyer argued with the young woman. Who was she? Rather attractive,
actually, in a competent sort of way. Finally Needermeyer accepted something
from her. Sergei caught her eyes, briefly. Intriguing. An agent, no doubt.
But for whom?
"Yes, yes," Munro coughed slightly as he lowered his empty mug,
and
called for another, "but still and all, my boy, this Kronstadt
fellow is no joke."
"Directors come and go," Vole yawned, "but the System remains.
Quadthot accounts for
everything, even the Accelerationists admit as much."
"Renard, really, you sound jaded beyond your years," Munro leaned
forward. "Where is that young student of mine, who so many years ago
vowed to shake the great tree of Quadthot to its roots to find out the truth
of things?"
"Napping pleasantly under its spreading boughs, I imagine," Vole
replied. "Youth has its rewards, but wisdom is not one of them."
"Pshaw!" Munro replied, before coughing abruptly. His mug refilled,
he took a long drink, then ran the fingers of his right hand through his
bush of snow-white hair. "The
Underground is right about a lot of things, and one of them is that
the problems in the Quadrant can't be solved by the same fools who allowed
them to flourish in the first place!"
Vole blanched at Old Dusty's heedless mention of the Underground in a public
place. Sergei noticed the strange woman at the bar turn in their direction.
Needermeyer had vanished.
"Bravely spoken, Dusty!" Sergei smiled. "Precisely why my
father supports Kronstadt."
The smile on Munro's face disappeared. "There's a world of difference,
my boy, between those would seize power in order to seek justice, and those
who would seize power merely to anoint themselves emperor."
"Sic semper tyrannis, and all that," Vole feigned disinterest
in the bosoms spilling out of the barmaid's bodice as she leaned in to refill
his glass. Sergei rose, leaving the two Dons to their arguments. He managed
to catch the young woman's arm just as she was about to make her exit.
"Not leaving so soon, surely," he smiled his most charming, pampered,
child of fortune smile. 'I don't believe I've seen you in here before."
Her steely eyes betrayed no hint of amusement, or submission. Perhaps she
didn't realize the biggest catch in the Quarter was tugging on her line?
She shrugged his hand off and made for the door. He grabbed her, holding
her firmly.
"Wait! Forgive me, please, but I absolutely must know your name."
"No!" she whispered fiercely, trying not to attract more attention.
"The only thing you must absolutely do is to let me leave. Now!"
"But what's the hurry? Surely you'll allow me to buy you a drink?"
"You fool! Do you think everything is a game? Let me go!" Sergei
rather enjoyed her tussling, as did a number of the QuadNot's patrons, who
always counted on Sergei for a few laughs.
"Citizens of the Quarter!" A voice rang out from the giant WallScreen
over the bar. "Good friends and publicans of the QuadNot. Please forgive
our interruption of your anticipated SysProg
programming."
A message from the Underground! Sergei had witnessed such stunts in chem
bars on the Outer Boardz, like the PharmaKoop, but now - in the QuadNot
itself! As a dedicated prankster himself, he appreciated anybody who could
beat the Quadrocrats at their own game. The voice continued.
"Citizens, the Quadrant is threatened by the candidacy of a tyrant!"
Sergei had released the young woman's arm. She no longer tried to leave,
but regarded him defiantly, searching his face, and others around them,
gauging their responses to the masked figure on the screen.
"We of the Underground implore you to ally with us against the tyrant
Kronstadt! He must be stopped! Kronstadt will end your . . ." Then
the voice went dead. SysProg's minions had found the tap and cut the transmission.
Nobody taps into System Programming's airtime for long.
The pub erupted in hoots and guffaws. The Underground was soundly condemned
by some and applauded by others. A drunken voice started singing the Quad
anthem in a bawdy manner. Others joined in. Needermeyer had disappeared.
Sergei regarded the young woman with amused interest.
"I assumed you were an agent. Now I know for whom."
"You know nothing, young Mr. Zerb." She spat. "You prance
about here in Krania, playing your little games, while the Outer Boardz
suffer the weight of your pleasures."
She moved him aside. "But if Kronstadt wins, the fun's over, Sergei.
Think about that." And she was gone.
Sergei looked up and smiled, shaking his head. "What a woman!"