Conspiracies -- Fiction; Science fiction, American
The bitterness was like a sour taste in Orne's mouth. He could see the
pattern so clearly. "Di, I ran away from home when I was seventeen," he
said.
"I know, darling. Mother's told me all about you."
"You don't understand," he said. "My father died before I was born.
He--"
"It must've been very hard on your mother," she said. "Left all alone
with her family ... and a new baby on the way."
"They'd known for a long time," said Orne. "My father had _Broach's_
disease, and they found out too late. It was already in the central
nervous system."
"How horrible," whispered Diana.
Orne's mind felt suddenly like a fish out of water. He found himself
grasping at a thought that flopped around just out of reach. "Dad was in
politics," he whispered. He felt as though he were living in a dream.
His voice stayed low, shocked. "From when I first began to talk, Mother
started grooming me to take his place in public life."
"And you didn't like politics," said Diana.
"I hated it!" he growled. "First chance, I ran away. One of my sisters
married a young fellow who's now the member for Chargon. I hope he
enjoys it!"
"That'd be Maddie," said Diana.
"You know her?" asked Orne. Then he remembered what Stetson had told
him, and the thought was chilling.
"Of course I know her," said Diana. "Lew, what's wrong with you?"
"You'd expect me to play the same game, you calling the shots," he said.
"Shoot for the top, cut and scramble, claw and dig."
"By tomorrow all that may not be necessary," she said.
Orne heard the sudden hiss of the carrier wave in his neck transceiver,
but there was no voice from the monitor.
"What's ... happening ... tomorrow?" he asked.
"The election, silly," she said. "Lew, you're acting very strangely. Are
you sure you're feeling all right." She put a hand to his forehead.
"Perhaps we'd--"
"Just a minute," said Orne. "About us--" He swallowed.
She withdrew her hand. "I think my parents already suspect. We Bullones
are notorious love-at-first-sighters." Her overlarge eyes studied him
fondly. "You don't feel feverish, but maybe we'd better--"
"What a dope I am!" snarled Orne. "I just realized that I have to be a
Nathian, too."
"You _just_ realized?" She stared at him.
There was a hissing gasp in Orne's transceiver.
"The identical patterns in our families," he said. "Even to the houses.
And there's the real key. What a dope!" He snapped his fingers. "_The
head!_ Polly! Your mother's the grand boss woman, isn't she?"
"But, darling ... of course. She--"
"You'd better take me to her and fast!" snapped Orne. He touched the
stud at his neck, but Stetson's voice intruded.
_"Great work, Lew! We're moving in a special shock force. Can't take any
chances with--"_
Orne spoke aloud in panic: _"Stet! You get out to the Bullones! And you
get there alone! No troops!"_
Diana had jumped to her feet, backed away from him.
_"What do you mean?"_ demanded Stetson.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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