Fool's War

Chapter Six — Runaway

Jump.

The Farther Kingdom networked opened around Dobbs. Pathways branched out in a hundred thousand dizzying directions. This wasn’t a single network. It was a network of networks. In her brief touches, she could feel knots in some paths that were so snarled it would have taken the entire Guild a week to straighten them out.

Dobbs didn’t need to straighten them out. She just needed to follow them. She paused for a moment, stretching herself carefully through the nearest tangles until she found the thickest of them all. She turned toward that path and forced her way down it.

Where are you?

Outside the hospital walls, Al Shei found herself in the midst of a human bustle that outstripped anything she saw in even the busiest stations. Al Shei had only been to New Medina a couple of times and its beauty had yet to wear off on her. The original Medina was a spartan place, like all of the cities on earth. The Management Union had allotted it the Mosque of the Prophet as a historical building, but everything else had been rebuilt of non-reflective concretes and kept low to the ground to make minimal impact on the environment.

Here though, the minarets were gold-tipped and they towered over luscious green date palms. The central mosque had a magnificent turquoise dome. The street were narrow and dusty. The buildings were allowed to crowd together.

The Management Union encouraged such opulent colonies. It lured people away from Earth and meant there were fewer feet to trample the environment they swore they were rebuilding.

The streets were crowded with people; men in white robes, or long tunics and sandals. Women in purdah of every color, some not even showing their eyes. Some led or followed powered wagons. Hard-line traditionalists carried baskets on their heads or on their backs. Animals threaded their way between the people. Chickens, donkeys, camels, and drones to clean up after all of them all roamed through the crowds, some with human keepers but some apparently intent on their own errands. The noise was deafening.

It hardly seemed possible for the market place to be any more chaotic, but it was. It was twice as big as the market on Port Oberon and four times as crowded. Every person, every animal seemed determined to let loose at the tops of their lungs. Not even the swarms of drones underfoot could not keep up with the smells and litter.

Al Shei had heard that the drones, like most of the trams were guided by the settlement’s central communications complex, a place that was reported to make even the New Medina hospital look primitive.

The market’s stalls sheltered goods from who-knew-how-many worlds. The traders were dressed in ten dozen different costumes. New Medina silks, coffees and cottons were popular luxury items and its population took pride in its ancient trading heritage. To one side, a group of students hollered at each other about some point of Islamic law that Al Shei couldn’t quite catch. A hot breeze blew down the streets stirring the up the dust. The press and crowd weighted down her movements and, despite her wonder at it all, she began to feel like she was treading water to stay afloat rather than just walking through a noisy crowd.

Finally, she spotted the sign for the Ksathra Coffee house, one of the few cafes in the city that did not segregate its unmarried male and female patrons. Al Shei got herself a table in the back corner, away from the worst of the street noise and ordered a pot of turkish coffee from the cart-like server. The cafe had a filtration system in its stucco walls that combed out the dust and kept the heat somewhat controlled. While she waited, Al Shei studied the beautiful blue patterned tiles, considering what the cost would be for something similar for The Mirror of Fate, and found she was beginning to breathe easier.

Dobbs tried not to see the destruction around her. The Live One had managed to keep from shredding the Pasadena’s network, but it hadn’t made any such efforts here. She flew past fragments and loops of programs struggling to knit themselves back together. A whole pathway cave in as the passed. She touched the dead, still ending of a burned out line.

What happened? Did freedom scare it that badly? Or did it just decide that in a world this huge it didn’t need to be careful?

The thought was strange and a little unnerving. She sent it down the line to the Guild Masters.

“It could be, Master Dobbs,” answered Havelock. “It might not even be aware that there are other intelligences outside its world.”

Wouldn’t be the first time. Dobbs squashed the thought and the others that threatened to follow it. She had to concentrate on the here and now.

The line behind her was stretched out over twenty miles of Farther Kingdom network and over more light years than she wanted to think about. The data running up and down its length was getting difficult to ignore. Unwanted sounds and sensations dribbled into her private mind, like loud conversations at a party when you were trying to concentrate on the person in front of you. Dobbs shut her private mind up as tightly as she could, but as long as she held onto the line, the unwanted information filtered in. Drips of circular reasoning. Pleas for maintenance that got nowhere. Frozen signals and stalled diagnostics.

And vanishing signals.

Dobbs stopped dead still.

Back along the length of the line, some packet of code dragged itself out from the path the line covered, and vanished. Yards away, it happened again.

“Agreed, Master Dobbs,” Havelock told her, almost before she formed the thought. “Back there.”

Dobbs doubled back along her line and flew toward the network’s other mind.

“‘Dama Al Shei?”

A heavily bearded man in immaculate white tunic and trousers picked his way between two small tables to stand in front of her. He bowed politely. His head was covered with a beautifully beaded cap and his sandals somehow had managed to repel all the dust. There was a glint in his eye that spoke of a familiarity with money.

“Peace be unto you,” Al Shei said, dropping into Arabic.

“And also unto you. I am Fedlifah Uysal.” Al Shei had originally heard about Uysal from friends of hers who crewed a corporate freighter. He had a reputation as a very dependable illegal operator.

“Thank you for meeting me.” Al Shei motioned him to a chair.

“You are most welcome, ‘Dama,” Uysal sat in his own chair and lifted the coffee pot. Al Shei pushed the spare cup closer. “Thank you.”

“You are from Istanbul, then, ‘Dama?” Uysal continued as she filled his cup with thick, black liquid.

“Not myself, but I have family there.” Al Shei sipped her own coffee.

“Do you? I have a number of cousins in the city proper…”

It was an old ritual, going back to the Slow Burn when Islam was in hiding. Both parties would try to determine how they were related. It was a very precise game. If you tried to claim too close a relationship, you risked getting exposed as a liar and embarrassed. If you didn’t know enough of your own lineage, you wouldn’t be able to make any kind of connection, and you might just lose your deal or your contact. Also, by revealing your family connections you made yourself vulnerable and showed yourself as trustworthy. Like snatching off the veils after prayer, it had become part of the tradition of Islam. Al Shei spun the dialog out and sat on her impatience. Eventually, Uysal and she determined they were fourth cousins, by marriage, once removed. It might even have been true.

“Well then, Cousin.” Uysal poured the last of the coffee into their cups. “Is this your first time in New Medina?”

“No, but I’ve been away so long it’s a fresh sight.” Patience, patience, she told herself. This one is going to play the game to the hilt and hurrying him will not do any good.

“The whole world is an amazing place,” he said with proprietary pride. “Built from the bedrock up. We’ve got more controls on our ecology than Earth.” He smiled at Al Shei’s arched brows. “You see, in the First Six treaties it was arranged that each faith would get its homeland.” He swept his hand out toward the palms. “Between us, the Jews, and the First-Faith Christians, it was necessary to create a lot of desert.” He drank down the last of his coffee. “Fortunately, we had some very determined engineers. The heat of this climate is primarily due to the fact that someone re-routed the lava from a volcano out there.” He pointed to the distant mountains. “It’s rather like running a heater filament under pavement to melt snow.” He smiled, obviously waiting for Al Shei to be impressed.

She was, actually, but she didn’t have the leisure time to hear more about how someone had managed to channel the lava.

“Cousin,” she said seriously. “I’ve been told you are a man to see about exotics.”

He smiled deprecatingly. “Cousin, I am the man to see about exotics.”

She nodded. Arrogance will out. “I’ve come into possession of something I shouldn’t have and don’t want. I need to know what it is and how it got to me.”

He tilted his cup toward him and looked into the bottom. “May I inquire, cousin, as to what you plan to do with this knowledge?”

“Wipe the thing out as effectively as possible,” she answered. “It’s making my life very difficult.”

His eyebrows both went up. “That is not a response I am accustomed to.” The server plowed a path to their table. Al Shei found their tab written on its back. She pulled out her pen and transferred over the credit to pay for the coffee.

Uysal waited with an air of complete patience until she had finished. “Can you give me the specifications of this…exotic?” he asked

Al Shei extracted a pair of wafer slivers from her belt pocket and pushed them across the table. “There’s what I’ve been able to learn.”

“Thank you.” He pocketed the wafers and stood up. “Allah’s mercy upon you, Cousin. I shall meet you here again tomorrow at this time.”

“Thank you, Cousin.” She inclined her head. With that, he left.

Al Shei watched him until his white back blended into the shifting crowd and she couldn’t tell him from the rest of the strangers.

Well, that was easy. Al Shei tapped her finger against the rim of her coffee cup. I hope the answers come as easily as the asking did.

Al Shei pushed her cup aside and tried to push her immediate worries aside with it. She gazed at the bustling marketplace beyond the coffee house, considering the possibilities of the day. Definitely she would pray at the mosque. She did not often have the luxury of praying with a large gathering of Muslims. Then maybe a reading or a lecture, and possibly some shopping, and a night in a bed that didn’t need to be folded away in the morning.

Then back to the Pasadena with the information she needed to chase the ghosts out of her ship. And finally, she smiled to herself, back to work. She had to accept that this might be her last run in the Pasadena, but she refused to believe that her relationship with this ship and this crew had to end with a negative balance and shameful dealings. There were still chances to make up for the bad start.

If we can pick up a couple extra packets while we’re here, maybe arrange a fly-by data-grab or two, we can still do it. I’ll talk to Resit about getting us access to the advertising lines.

Confident and comfortable from the combination of warmth, gravity and strong coffee, Al Shei got up and threaded her way between the tables and back out into the market.

The world around Dobbs shifted. She froze. A new pathway opened underneath her and half a dozen packets erupted out of it. They shoved past her and drove themselves down the line. Dobbs felt her private mind bunch up. Those were virus killers.

Without waiting for the Guild Masters’ response, she dove after them.

She overtook them easily and spread herself across the line in front of them. She jolted as they drove into her outer layers. She stretched herself out, examining the architecture of each one as they wriggled against her trying to get through. One of them, realizing she didn’t belong there, began to burrow. Dobbs jerked at the pain and grabbed hold of the thing. It tried to eat into her and Dobbs broke it in two. It became absolutely still. She did the same with the others. She sifted through the fragments, trying to find out where these had come from, and where they were going.

Central communications. She turned over a broken module. They’re onto it already. They would be. She stretched herself a little nervously down the path.

“Go cautiously, Master Dobbs,” came back the voice of Guild Master Feazell. “If Central Comm has spotted it, it may have spotted — ”

The packets hit Dobbs without warning. She recoiled under the blow. They swarmed across her, a dozen, maybe more, crawling, poking things connected by thin streams of shared information. Dobbs snatched at them, but passed right through them. Dobbs swelled herself up, blocking the line and trapping the things in a hollow of herself. They milled around briefly, then they turned and attacked.

Dobbs screamed. The things scythed through her outer layers. Nerve and sense tore to shreds, leaving nothing but patches of confusion behind. Anger shoved behind the pain and Dobbs held on. The things cut deeper. Her grip faltered as her senses ripped open. She couldn’t hold them, couldn’t feel them, couldn’t even find them anymore.

“Here, Dobbs! Here!” The line shot through her and pulled together the hole in her outer self. She snatched at the data stream between the foul, tearing things, twisted it tight and pulled it deep into herself.

…find source of other/harm/pry. Destroy source other/harm/pry. Locate all traveller/spy/destroyer. Destroy all traveller/spy/destroyer. Send back data on location, size, number, needed assistance…

The data streams snapped and the things scattered. Dobbs flinched and grabbed at them. She pulled about half into her and held them. One scampered down the path away from her, the rest scuttled up the path, toward, presumably, their maker.

Dobbs wanted to catch the one heading toward central comm. It was alone and couldn’t do much, but some damage would be done. But there was no time to try to stop it. Her best guides to the Live One were already fleeing her, and building new data streams between them as they went.

Dobbs grit her inner self and raced after them. She buckled the Guild Masters’ line onto one of the things she held and thrust it into the pack. The others absorbed it back into their numbers and did not question it. Dobbs hung onto the line and let herself be pulled along in their wake.

The sun was well past its zenith, but the market crowds showed no signs of thinning, or of quieting. Al Shei squeezed herself between a stall and a cloth wrapped bundles of something that smelled of vanilla. Her foot kicked something hard that clanked. She winced and looked down.

A cleaning drone lay on its side, unmoving, like the discarded carapace of some fanciful metallic insect. Along the thoroughfare she saw other patrons, stepping awkwardly over similar obstacles, cursing or just grunting in surprise. Still metal bodies lay scattered across the street. A flash of sunlight glanced off the side of another as it toppled from a wall and crashed onto a tiled awning.

Reflexively, Al Shei crouched down, and turned over the drone at her feet. There was nothing obviously wrong with it. She tested each of its eight limbs. All of them moved smoothly. She opened the main panel and prodded the wiring. There were no obvious signs of burn-out or corrosion.

A shadow fell across her and she looked up. Two women had positioned themselves directly in front of her.

“Peace be unto you,” said the taller of the two, blandly.

Feeling mildly embarrassed, Al Shei put the inactive drone down and straightened up, dusting her hands off as she did.

“And also unto you,” she answered politely. Her gaze shifted between the pair. They were neatly dressed in loose forest-green tunics and divided skirts. Their kijabs were plain and pinned in place with silver clasps. Their skin was heavily tanned from long days under a desert sun. “May I ask what your business is with me?”

“‘Dama Katmer Al Shei you are under arrest for fraud and conspiracy to commit fraud,” said the shorter woman. “You will please come with us.”

Al Shei’s heart sank straight to the soles of her feet. She tried to speak and realized she’d just start stammering. She smoothed her hijab down and did her best to put a haughty glower into her eyes.

“Who is accusing me?”

“Second Administrator Shirar of New Medina Central Hospital,” said Taller.

Al Shei felt her knees try to give way. She locked them to keep herself upright. “I have the right to legal counsel, I presume?”

“You do,” said Shorter. “Your ship’s lawyer has already been contacted and will be meeting you at the police house. Now, ‘Dama.” Shorter stepped back and gestured her to a closed in car. “We will be more comfortable discussing this matter there, I assure you.”

There was nothing else to do. Al Shei climbed into the car. As the two women shut the door behind her, she could just hear the beginning of the call to prayer.

“Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! “ God is great. God is great.

The car seat was a confining, soft-sided bucket that made Al Shei think of the crash couch on the shuttle. It only took a few seconds for her to spot the slots for the restraining bands. There was a soft ‘snickt’ as the door locked behind her.

Al Shei folded her hands in her lap to avoid having to lay them on the seat’s arms with their suspicious slits right where her wrists would have rested.

“Qad Qamatis salah! Qad Qamatis salah!” The prayer has begun! The prayer has begun!

“Bismillahir rahmanir rahim,” said Al Shei softly to her toward her hands lying in her lap. The car glided forward. Her two guards did not look back at her. In the name of Allah, the most Merciful, the most Kind. “Alhamdu lillahi rabbil alamin. Arrahmanir rahim. “ All praise is for Allah, the Lord of the Worlds. “Malliki yawmiddin. Iy yaka na’budu wa iy yaka nasta’in. “ The most Merciful, the most Kind; Master of the Day of Judgement. “Inhidinas siratal Mustaqim. Siratalladhina an’amta alaihim, Ghairil maghdubi ‘alaihim wa laddallin. Amin.” You alone we worship. You alone we ask for help. Guide us along the straight way — The way of those whom You have favored and not of those who earn Your anger, nor of those who go astray.

It was not the right prayer for the time, but she couldn’t help feeling it was right for the circumstances.

What happened? Al Shei closed her hands into fists. What in the name of merciful Allah happened?

The police house was a squared-off, copper-glass sided building that looked incongruous in a city of domes, tiles and arches. The sidewalks here were clear of crowds. Catwalks overhead and along the far side of the street funnelled people away from the vicinity of the building. Al Shei felt very alone.

Her two guards walked Al Shei into the police house. The place was a broad room broken up by fenced-in desks, clear-walled offices and free-standing information stations. Men and women, most in traditional Arabic dress, milled through it, intent on their tasks, voicing their concerns or needs in four or five different languages.

Her escorts took her into one of the glassed-in offices. Lipinski, slouched in a thinly-padded chair. He looked up and gave her a small, two-fingered wave.

“We must have goofed,” he said with a humorless smile.

“Say anything more and Resit will bawl you out once we’re through with this.” Al Shei sat down next to him.

Lipinski remained dutifully silent while the two officers went through the long routine of registering Al Shei’s arrest. She was full-body imaged from all angles. She had to hold still while they took her finger-prints, palm-prints, retina-prints and shoe-prints. A male officer shepherded Lipinski out of the room and sent in a woman officer to record three separate images of Al Shei’s bare face.

When she re-wrapped in her hijab, they let Lipinski back in.

In the brief moment that the door was open, Al Shei heard a familiar voice clearly over all the babble and bustle of the police house.

“Zubedye Resit representing Katmer Al Shei and Rurik Lipinski. This is a wrongful accusation and I want it cleared up. Now.”

Lipinski looked at Al Shei. “I would like permission to marry your cousin.”

Al Shei felt a thin smile form. “If you can talk her into it, it’s fine with me.”

The two women who had escorted Al Shei to the station house reappeared and took her and Lipinski to a conference room with real walls. Resit was already there with Incili in its carrying case. Second Administrator Shirar stood in the back of the room with an expression of disgust and fury distorting her face. Next to her sat a man whom Al Shei assumed was the hospital’s lawyer. On the broad side of the table with his face to the door sat a man in clean white robes with a white turban on his head.

“Sit, sit, sit.” He waved his pen in the general direction of the remaining chairs. He sounded both harassed and tired.

Al Shei obeyed, catching Resit’s eye as she did. The corner of Resit’s mouth twitched upwards and she gave a small nod.

Good. She’d meant what she’d said out in the main chamber then. She was ready to get them out of this. Al Shei folded her hands on the table and waited.

“All right,” said the turbaned man. “I am Justice Muratza. My job is to keep this case from becoming a bigger nuisance than necessary.” He turned his drooping eyes to Shirar and her advocate. “For the record, will you state the complaint to the defendants?”

The advocate passed a film across the table to the justice. “Dr. Amory Dane, winning a contract bid from the New Medina Hospital, sub-contracted the Pasadena corporation to make a delivery of the packet of information. The specifics are listed here.” He reached across the table to point to the film with his pen. The justice nodded and waved him away.

The advocate cleared his throat and continued. “What was delivered was an empty shell, designed to take up space in storage until the Pasadena could abscond with the credit transferred to its account by the hospital.” He frowned at Al Shei. “As for the thief, both male and female, chop off their hands,” he quoted. “It is the reward for their own deeds.”

Al Shei leaned forward and stabbed at the table top with her finger. Resit laid a warning hand on her shoulder before she could get a word out.

“Thank you,” said the Justice dryly. “We’ll wait for a trial before we decide if we’re all going to turn literalist.” He scribbled a note on his memory board. “And what does the Pasadena corporation have to say for itself?”

“In the interests of keeping all nuisance to a minimum,” Resit said, smoothly. “I’d like to invoke local statutes 145-A and 584-C which provide for pre-trial and public comparison and verification in the case of conflicting computer records. We can direct link to both the hospital records and the Pasadena’s and compare them. This will show that the Pasadena delivered only the information which it was given by Amory Dane.” She drew a stack of films out of her case, “As verification, I have the video and transcript records of my meeting with Amory Dane and the data transfer to the Pasadena’s data hold. If there are accusations of wrongdoing, the New Medina Hospital must take them to Dr. Dane, or,” she paused to make doubly sure everyone’s attention was on her, “as seems more likely, they must acknowledge there is a fault with their data storage system.

“Our records are security sealed and can be verified by contacting the port authorities of Port Oberon.” She looked the hospital’s advocate square in the eye. “He who truly believes in Allah and the Last Day should either speak good or keep silent.”

Muratza frowned at her. “We are giving statements, not sermons.” He glanced over the films. “However, a records comparison does look like the quickest way to see who’s got a case here.”

“Sir.” Hospital Advocate was still trying to stare Resit down. “I invoke statute 784-H. I want those films verified. This crew has already proven themselves to be very good at faking their data.”

“Are we at trial?” countered Resit immediately. She swept her hand around the room. “Has a verdict been handed down? No? Then how has anything been proven?”

Shirar flushed umber. “I have got an empty database and forty doctors who can’t go ahead with critical patients because you…”

The justice sighed. “And if either representative allows their clients to delay this proceeding, I am going to strip your licenses to practice in the Farther Kingdom and send you packing. You can probably both cite the statutes that allow me to do this.” He gave them both hard looks. “So, let us see those records.”

A wall slammed down in front of Dobbs, slicing through the line between herself and the Attack modules. Dobbs skimmed across it. The pathway had been shut off by whatever was on the other side. She dropped to the bottom of the path and groped across it until she found a routing switch she could manipulate. She couldn’t break the wall, but she could tunnel under it. She opened up her new pathway below the barrier and slid through it.

Resit pulled a cable out of Incili’s box and plugged the AI into the table. Then she plugged her pen into the socket in the AIs side.

“Incili, open a channel to the comm watch on Pasadena.”

“There are no channels available,” said the calm tenor voice.

Resit’s brow furrowed. “Incili, try again.”

“There are no channels available.”

She looked across to the advocate and the justice. “‘Ster Justice, is this a peak load on your comm channels?”

“Not normally.” Muratza tucked his pen into one of the table sockets and tapped the board in front of him. “We’re jammed up though. What’s Central doing out there?”

Al Shei noticed Lipinski was sitting very still. “Inadequate configured pathway space,” he murmured.

The justice gave him a sharp look. “Do you have something to add to this discussion, ‘Ster Lipinski?”

“No, ‘Ster Justice,” said Lipinski to the table. “Nothing.” His eyes were wide though, and Al Shei could see his hands twitching. She glanced at Resit, whose brow was still wrinkled.

The hospital’s advocate, unfortunately, did not miss the silent exchange. “Is something wrong, ‘Ster Lipinski?” He inquired. “Did your ship perhaps encounter some problems with its own communications pathways during the flight?”

Al Shei stiffened involuntarily.

Resit laid her hand flat against the table top. “Nothing occurred during the Pasadena’s flight from Port Oberon in the Solar System to the Farther Kingdom which interfered with the integrity of the packet which we delivered,” she said firmly.

The justice’s eyes flickered from the lawyer to Lipinski. What little color the Houston had in his cheeks had drained away.

“Is that correct, ‘Ster Lipinski?” Muratza tapped the edge of the table with one finger.

Allah the Merciful, keep him steady, prayed Al Shei.

“Yes.” Lipinski coughed. “Yes, it is.”

Muratza did not look convinced. Neither did the pair from the hospital.

“Channel to Pasadena established.” Incili’s voice cut the tension. “Intercom to data hold open.”

“This is Communication Engineer Latius Odel.” The screen on the office wall flickered into life and showed Odel still sitting at Station One. There were empty bags and bulbs crumpled to one side that showed he’d just finished a meal there. “What can I do for you, ‘Dama Resit?”

Someone is going to get a dressing down when the crisis is over, thought Al Shei. Lipinski was notoriously fastidious about his hold.

But Lipinski wasn’t even looking at the screen. He was still staring at the tabletop, and his hands were still twitching.

Resit addressed the screen. “Odel, I need the records of the data transfer between the Pasadena and New Medina Central Hospital.”

Odel peered into the screen as if trying to figure out what was going on from Resit’s eyes. When he found no answers, he turned back to the boards.

“Locating,” he said as he wrote out the orders.

“Send them straight to the open files for Justice Muratza, New Medina police house number eighteen, storage area,” she paused and checked the readout on the table. “FKJ-O126-AT12/C.”

“Down loading.” Odel selected a menu and then tapped the board twice. “You should be getting it now.”

Muratza flicked through the menus on his own board and nodded.

“Thank you, ‘Ster Odel,” said Resit with a shade too much politeness. “Incili, close the line.”

The hospital advocate bent over his own board. Shirar whispered harshly in his ear. Al Shei took advantage of their distracted attention to tap Lipinski quickly on the knee. “What’s wrong?” she whispered as loudly as she dared.

He ran his thumb across his throat in a slicing gesture. We’re dead. Resit didn’t miss the gesture. She made a quick chopping motion below the table. Cut it out.

“All right.” Muratza wrote an order across his board. “Let’s see what you two have to show me.” He settled back in his chair and directed his attention to the closest wall screen.

First came the Pasadena’s data. Most of the screen was taken up by a recording of Odel’s hands writing orders and activating menus on the Comm Station One board. Smaller squares around the main window gave captions explaining the orders and detailing the movement of the data for each motion, which database was accessed, the size and shape of the packet retrieved, which line was used to transmit it to the surface and the record of how well the transfer proceeded. All of it showed the entire procedure going off with textbook ease.

Then came the hospital’s data. The video scene was similar, except this time it was Lipinski’s hands and the hospital board. This time the procedure was not so easy. Lipinski was running multiple checks on the data’s configuration and its integrity. He initiated spot diagnostic checks as it passed through the board, repeating them if the responses flickered on either side of a zero response.

The hospital advocate’s black eyes glittered. “Any particular reason for the overwhelming,” he drawled the word, “caution, ‘Ster Lipinski?”

Resit drew herself up to her full height. Al Shei recognized it as a defensive maneuver.

“Pasadena crew made a full disclosure of the virus infection to the hospital representatives.” Resit extracted a film from Incili’s carrying case. “They generated a waiver before they accepted the packet.”

“Yes,” a tone half-way between smugness and righteousness crept into the advocate’s voice. “They generated a waiver for what they were told about.”

Muratza’s face remained impassive at this revelation, but the advocate’s practically glowed with triumph.

Al Shei decided she could take an active dislike to the man if she had the time. She also hoped that the reason Resit was keeping quiet was she didn’t want to dignify the last statement with a reply.

The hospital’s data played on. Lipinski funnelled the data he cleared into the open storage space. The final size and configuration numbers were reached. Lipinski ran through one last integrity check and got a zero reading. He sealed the storage and cleared the line.

The recording shifted to columns of ratios; configured space to unconfigured, used space to empty space.

“This is a record of the monitoring program on the storage space where the data was supposed to be transferred,” said the advocate. “Watch what happens as soon as a tap is attempted.”

The recording showed the raw numbers for a new line opening, and the stats shifted to columns of zeros. No space configured, no space used. Nothing there. Nobody home.

The screen blanked out.

Al Shei couldn’t help herself. She glanced anxiously at Resit. Resit didn’t even look mildly surprised.

She must have gotten a look at it before she got here. Al Shei tugged at her tunic sleeve. Cousin, you’re getting a raise as soon as I’ve got one to give you.

“So, ‘Ster Lipinski,” the advocate folded his hands and rested both elbows on the table. “There were problems in flight, were there? A convenient excuse to get my clients to sign a waiver in case anything untoward happened to their packet.”

Lipinski opened his mouth, but Resit beat him too it.

“‘Ster Justice Muratza.” She faced the justice. “The hospital’s own records show that the data transferred was exactly the data received by the Pasadena, nothing more and nothing less. It is ‘Ster Lipinski’s own precautions that prove that no trace of viral code, or any other uncontracted data could have possibly been transferred down to New Medina.” She cast a withering glance at the advocate and Shirar. “The language on the waiver covers nothing more than a viral infection. The advocate knows this. He is building conspiracies out of thin air. What the records show is that if the data has been erased, it happened after the transfer. I am most appalled at this attempt to blame Pasadena corporation for the hospital’s own error.” She shook her head. “A tragic error, certainly. I understand that packet was a valuable well-spring of information for them, but it was an error nonetheless.” The advocate shifted his weight, but Resit didn’t give him a chance to speak. “The Pasadena Corporation delivered exactly and entirely what Dr. Amory Dane contracted it to deliver. This is verified by the hospital’s own records. The data was placed and sealed in a storage unit chosen by the hospital’s designated representative.” She swept her hand toward Shirar. “With that, our contract was fulfilled and payment became due. What happened after that, however regrettable, is not the responsibility of Pasadena Corporation.”

Muratza made another note on his board. “That is true.”

“‘Ster Justice,” spluttered the advocate. “You can’t mean to let any of this…fabrication go unverified…”

“I don’t.” Muratza made a second note and selected a SEND command from a menu. Al Shei wished fervently, and a bit ridiculously, that she could read Arabic upside down.

“There is a situation here that merits investigation.” Muratza laid down his pen. “That much is evident. What it is and whether criminal charges are called for is still in question.” He stood up. “The representatives of the Pasadena Corporation will make themselves available to this office and its representatives until such time as this investigation is considered resolved, as will the representatives of New Medina Central Hospital.” He waited for either lawyer to protest, but something in his manner suggested that they had better not.

“Thank you, ‘Ster Justice Muratza.” The hospital advocate tucked his pen in his belt pocket and sealed the stack of films in front of him into a book.

“Thank you, ‘Ster Justice Muratza.” Resit unplugged Incili and stowed her gear in its case.

The advocate walked out of the office with Shirar already plucking at his elbow. Resit picked up Incili and gestured for Al Shei and Lipinski to proceed her out the door. Lipinski opened his mouth and Resit shook her head.

Al Shei grabbed her Houston’s shoulder with one hand and steered him out of the police house.

She did not let go until they had crossed the pedestrian catwalk, come down the spiral stairs on the other side and walked another full block from the police house, so that they were back on sidewalks crowded with pedestrians and working drones. The sun was setting, turning the sky a deep lapis blue and sending the first chilling breezes of evening through the streets.

Al Shei stopped in the long shadow of a beautifully arched facade and faced Lipinski.

“Al Shei,” said Resit with a note of warning in her voice. “We’ve got a lot to talk about…”

“And we’ll get to it.” Al Shei did not take her eyes off Lipinski. “What’s the matter?” she asked flatly.

In the shadows, his skin looked pasty grey. “Did you see how the cleaning drones all failed this afternoon?”

“Yes.” Al Shei folded her arms.

“And how the comm lines clogged up so suddenly?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

“Those are central communications failures. Spot failures.” His eyes grew distant and whatever he was looking at made him shiver. “AI induced failures.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Resit.

Lipinski tilted his head back until he was looking straight up at the deep blue sky. “I should have seen it. I should have noticed.” He looked straight at Al Shei and Resit again. “There is a live AI loose in New Medina, and we brought it here.”

Resit clutched the handle on Incili’s case until her knuckles turned white. “Lipinski, if anybody, anybody has recorded you saying this…”

Al Shei touched Resit’s arm to quiet her. “You sound very sure,” she said quietly to Lipinski.

“It is an AI.” Lipinski’s words came out as a harsh whisper toward the doorway behind them. “It’s a live AI. We brought it here and now it’s loose.”

“You don’t know that,” said Al Shei sharply. “You have got no way to know that.”

“The hell I don’t.” His pale blue eyes were round with fear. “What else could it be? We’ve got to get out of here, Al Shei. Now.”

“No,” she said as quietly and as forcefully as she could managed. “We’ve got no facts. We also are under investigation. We stay where we are until we know for certain what is happening.”

Lipinski’s hands clenched and unclenched. “Spot failures are what happens first,” he said to the ground. “Then the basic diagnostic programs start returning senseless answers. Then special programs get written, and those disappear. Then systems start shutting down, on their own or because somebody’s trying to isolate something that can move faster than they can think. Once that happens there’s no controlling it.” He was shaking violently now. “Five days, five days, after it got loose on Kerensk I had to go out into the streets to try to find us something to eat. All the stuff in the kitchens was gone and we had nothing but metal and plastic and it was below freezing outside. No water either, and no snow to melt, just this mind-numbing cold. I was stumbling along, thanking God that the rioters had decided to move on and I tripped over this old man. I don’t know how long he’d been dead. He had his hand in a shattered pipe. He’d been trying to drink the water. It was sewage. It was frozen but I could still smell it…”

Al Shei laid both of her hands on his shoulders. “We wait right where we are,” she told him. “We wait until tomorrow and see what Resit and my contact both come up with. Then, when we’ve got our facts we decide what to do.”

“But…” He was trembling. She could feel it all the way up her elbows.

“No,” said Al Shei again. “You’re panicking, Houston, without evidence and without thinking, and you know it.”

“I wish I knew that,” he breathed. “I wish to God I did.”

Dobbs crept down the silent path. It was wrong, all wrong. This was a full, functioning path in a network that had heavy requirements. It should not be as still as the data hold aboard the Pasadena. It should not be empty of even the scraps and fragments that the Live One had left behind in other places.

She could see how it made an effective strategy, though. The Live One hadn’t left anything for her to hide behind and there was no way she disguise what she was by piggy-backing on an expected packet. If the Live One reached down this line, it would see only her, and then it would…what?

Dobbs pinched off a piece of the line and quickly reshaped it into a feedback link. She hauled the line through herself and re-attached the new sensor to it. Then, she cast the line in front of her and followed where it went.

“Good idea, Master Dobbs,” said Guild Master Havelock softly. She felt the Guild Masters pull their presences all the way back down the line.

Glad you think so, Dobbs thought to herself, trying to concentrate on what the line saw.

The sensor told her of more yards of empty path, and more, and more. She followed it, tense and tired of tension. Nothing, nothing and still more nothing.

Then something up ahead stirred, it shifted and writhed and…

It grabbed hold of the sensor and yanked Dobbs forward.

A smothering weight dropped over her. Dobbs stabbed upwards. The thing flinched, but didn’t let go. It surrounded her, pressing against her, trying to reach inside her.

“No!” she shouted. “No!”

She strained in all directions, reaching inside it even as it tried to reach into her. It roiled against her invasion.

“Stop this! I won’t hurt you!” She pressed deeper, hoping to touch somewhere she could leave a memory, or a realization.

It didn’t answer. It bit down hard instead, cutting through her senses even more ruthlessly than its probes had. Dobbs felt parts of herself cut away, lost to the huge, vicious presence that surrounded her. She drove herself into it, forcing its jaws open, tearing at its claws and belly. It didn’t work. It wouldn’t move. It was too big, too impervious to any pain she could inflict. It was digging through her outer layer, down into her private mind, soon she’d have to scream until there was nothing left…

“NO!” shouted a voice from nowhere. “You will not do this!”

The thing stopped, it pulled back. Dobbs sagged and fell away, stripped to her heart. She lay dazed, barely able to comprehend what was being said near her. “Attack us if you can!” shouted the voice. “Get back! Get back!”

It’s the Guild Masters down the line, she thought dully. They’re shouting, scaring it off, maybe.

They have to scare it off, because I can’t move.

“GET OUT!”

The Live One, mute, caught between the unknown spaces of the network and the unknown, ordering presence, turned above Dobbs and ran.

We’ll lose it. We can’t lose it.

Dobbs gathered the last of her strength. She groped for the line and found it. The sensor wasn’t quite gone. She gave it one small order and cast the line out. Follow the Live One. Watch where it goes.

Follow it, because I can’t.

The hostel Resit had chosen was a lovely, traditional building with gracefully arched doorways, carnelian colored pillars, and vermillion and gold tiles covering the inner walls.

Resit hadn’t said a word since they left Lipinski at his rented room. She forged across the crowded lobby with a light in her eye that had the bystanders moving aside for her. Disdaining the elevators, she took herself up the three flights of stairs. Al Shei followed silently in her cousin’s wake.

Their suite was on the third floor. The door opened for their palm prints and spoken names. The place had been decorated by someone with a consuming love of gold fringe and bright silks. Despite that, the rooms looked extremely comfortable and Al Shei could feel the results of her long day lean heavily against her. Their bags waited next to the door, making her think of a cool bath and an early night.

Resit slammed Incili’s case down on the desk and plunked herself in the chair.

“Don’t start,” said Al Shei as soon as the door closed.

Resit held up both hands. “I haven’t said anything, and I’m not going to.” She thumbed the lock on Incili’s case. “I’ve got too much to do.”

Al Shei collapsed into a damask chair under the window and reached up one hand to draw the sky-blue drapes. “What can you do before tomorrow?” She unwrapped her hijab and rubbed her hand across her face. Her skin was dry and a little dusty. She really wanted that bath. “The justice office has got to be closed by now.” She waved her hand at the last vestiges of daylight that filtered through the curtains.

Resit gave her a long, hard look. “I’ve got to deal with the fact that Lipinski might be right.”

Al Shei sat up very straight. “You’re not serious.”

Resit didn’t even blink. “I am very serious, Cousin.” She pulled a memory board out of the case and jacked it into Incili’s side. “Exhibit A, we had a virus of unknown origin aboard Pasadena that managed to give the most paranoid Houston in the business the slip for days. Exhibit B, the data we gave to the Hospital has managed to give an entire database worth of security the slip. Exhibit C, a colony that depends on its central communications network for survival is having strange, random trouble.” She pulled her pen out of her pocket. “Or didn’t you see all the drones die this afternoon?”

Al Shei felt the coldness in Resit’s voice reach out to touch her heart. “You’ve been listening to Lipinski too much.”

Resit tapped her pen on the edge of the desk, watching its rapid rise and fall. “And you haven’t been listening enough, Katmer. It is possible we have done this thing. We need to think about that, about what it means and about what we are going to do next.” She raised her eyes to Al Shei. “We have got to think about the fact that we may have, one way or another, made a hideous mistake.”

Al Shei felt all the blood drain out of her cheeks. Lipinski she could dismiss as overreacting. There was too much in his background for her to accept his fears at face value. But Resit was another story. The lawyer in the young woman was clearly operating, and the lawyer was trained to put the facts together and see the worst coming in order to prevent it. That was what made her good at her job.

Al Shei turned her face to the covered window. “And if we did?” she whispered hoarsely.

“Then either you or Tully is going to be hauled up on what is quaintly called a hanging offence, with the possibility of the rest of the crew being brought in as accessories to the crime. That is, if the colony survives.” Resit hunched over her board and began writing. “Incili, I want all the data on any of the rogue AI cases ever brought to trial. I want the decisions, the comments, the dates and the locations.”

“Do you want minority opinions as well?” inquired the box.

“Yes,” she said impatiently. “Get it all in here. We’ll sort it out later.”

“Working on it. Starting now.”

Al Shei wrapped her hijab back around her face and walked to the door. Resit didn’t even look up as she left.

Out in the spacious corridor, Al Shei leaned her back against the wall and tried to gather her thoughts. It hadn’t happened. It couldn’t have happened…But what if it had?

A metallic clatter sounded at the end of the hall. Al Shei jerked upright, her heart hammering in her chest. A dinner cart rolled down the hallway. She closed her eyes and whispered “A’indhu birabbin nas,” I seek refuge in the Lord of Mankind. Then she whispered, “Asil, Beloved, how do I get out of this one?”

The cart stopped about four doors away from where Al Shei stood and gave a bright chime to signal its arrival. Al Shei pushed herself away from the wall and strode away in the opposite direction.

Back in the lobby, she found the hallway that led to the business chamber. A memory board had the prices for private alcoves listed next to the door. Al Shei barely glanced at it. It was going to be too much, whatever it was. She entered a covered courtyard that was studded with potted palms and sported a broad fountain in the middle.

Fully half of the private alcoves were empty. Al Shei picked one at random and sealed the door shut behind her. The ventilation system kicked in with a faint hum and the smell of almonds.

The alcove was barely big enough for herself and the desk. There were memory boards on two walls and a view screen on the third. Al Shei activated the desk with her signature and thumb print. She flicked quickly through the menus until the reached the banking options and accessed her private account. Then, she opened a line to Uysal.

Uysal’s image materialized on the view screen, frowning deeply at her.

“I told you we’d meet tomorrow, ‘Dama.” Despite his expression, his voice managed to remain smooth and temperate.

“I no longer have until tomorrow.” Al Shei poised her pen over the desk. “I am prepared to transfer the full amount owing for whatever answer you may have right now.”

Uysal’s face smoothed out as his eyebrows arched almost up to his hair line. He waved one neatly kept hand. “Very well, ‘Dama. I will accept transfer.”

Al Shei wrote the order across the board and signed it. The desk deducted the amount. She waited. Uysal glanced down at the board in front of him.

“Thank you, ‘Dama,” he said and Al Shei knew the transfer had gone completely through.

Uysal wrote an order across his board. His eyes flickered back and forth as he read what appeared. Then, he leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers and pursed his lips.

“I am informed, ‘Dama, that you have given me the records for an extremely destructive full-system virus. Highly infectious. Definitely a weapon of first-strike capacity.” His eyebrows arched again as he looked at her. For a moment, Al Shei thought he was going to offer up a comment or Qur’anic quote, but he didn’t.

“It is also one that had gone missing from the Toric secured sector where it was hidden in a trojan horse arrangement with some outdated diplomatic data. That data, and the virus, are thought to have been removed by Marcus Tully, according to Terran authorities, who are watching him carefully — and waiting impatiently for his partner to get back home, by the way.” A small smile formed on his wide mouth. “Impatiently but very quietly, due to her position in a prominent banking family.”

Al Shei’s heart sank. She struggled to keep the feeling from showing in her eyes. She gestured impatiently at Uysal.

“It is further known that before the virus came into his possession, Tully held two separate face-to-face meetings with a Dr. Amory Dane, who also had dealings with Tully’s partner.”

Al Shei felt her spine stiffen. “Amory Dane?” she repeated.

Uysal nodded. “That is what I have here. Dane’s movements are…conflicted, but that much is certain.”

Al Shei wanted to scream. She wanted to swear. She wanted to bury her face in her hands and cry. She did none of those things. She had no time.

“Thank you, ‘Ster Uysal,” she said instead.

“You are most welcome, ‘Dama. Is there any further way I can assist?” He spread his hands out.

“I wish there was.” Al Shei closed the line down.

She sat frozen where she was for a moment, staring at her hand holding her pen against the board.

Dane met with Tully. Dane supplied the medical data that had gone missing. Tully had stolen some outdated diplomatic files. Those were the only facts she had, and they didn’t make any sense. Questions thronged around Al Shei’s head. Did Tully know he was also stealing a virus? Had he done it for Dane? Did Dane want the files or the virus? Had Tully tried to get back on board for the junked stacks, or to see if he really had left his stolen poison inside the Pasadena…

Was that virus really just a virus? Where was it now?

Al Shei opened another line, straight to Pasadena and Schyler.

Schyler appeared on the screen with a stack of films and a plate of food in front of him. One hand held a bulb of something black that steamed. He looked up at her, saw the look in her eyes and set the bulb down.

“What’s happened?”

“Something very bad.” Her voice came out as a croak. She cleared her throat. “What’s the status of the ship’s comm system, Tom?”

“Initial report is clean as a whistle.”

Al Shei felt her blood go cold. Schyler’s face fell into deep lines of concern. “I take it that wasn’t the answer you wanted?”

“No,” she said, striving to put some volume in her voice, which now did not want to function at all. “No, it wasn’t. I’ll tell you more later, Tom.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to send you up a packet for Asil. I want you to bundle it up with one of Tully’s hush programs and send it to him, all right?” They never talked about the fact that Schyler knew where most of Tully’s special lock-picking and data scrambling programs were kept. Never until now.

Schyler nodded. “Out.” Al Shei closed that line too. She pressed the tip of her pen against the memory board and tried to think.

“Beloved,” she wrote, “Amory Dane, our bio-data contract, has been implicated in Tully’s exploits.” In as few words as she could manage, she gave him Uysal’s assessment of exactly what the “virus” was, as well as Resit and Lipinski’s suspicions of what might have come along with it. “I’m told his movements are conflicted. Check out the records from Port Oberon and see what you can sort out. If you say this has to go straight to the authorities, we’ll do it.”

She wrote in the Pasadena berth in The Gate for the destination and sent the packet up. She hadn’t told Schyler to erase the end of their little conversation from the public record, but she was confident he would take care of that on his own. The dirty feeling on her skin began to worm its way down inside her. She tried to push it away, and was only partially successful.

She sealed her account again and transferred records of the transaction back to the Pasadena, praying that the lines would hold up. Then, she left the alcove and the hostel.

New Medina was not a city that lit itself up by night. The sun was firmly down and all those who did not have important business were supposed to be at home. There were voices and laughter, and the continual melange of noise that came from cars, drones, and animals all compressed into the tiny space the winding streets offered, but only just enough light to guide herself by. The wind still smelled like dust and the city, but it was chilly now. Al Shei wished she’d taken the time to put on her biljab cloak.

The stars shone down clear white from the sky, muted only by the quarter moon that turned the domes and spires silver. It was beautiful. A sight she would not see at home. Al Shei had time to wish she could stand still and look at it. Instead, she whistled down the tram and swung herself aboard. This was another fully automated module. A city map up front listed streets and addresses in three different alphabets. Al Shei lit up Lipinski’s hotel and took a seat between a merchant robed in green with his shop box on his lap, and a woman cloaked and veiled in solid black.

The tram crawled through the streets. Al Shei found herself eyeing the road in its headlights nervously. The thing was practically an AI itself. It had to be to avoid completely unpredictable obstacles, like animals, cars and pedestrians. But how much of its operation depended on in-put from the central communications facility? It had to know about blockage, or route changes, or repair requirements from somewhere. If the central net went down, would it collapse in the middle of the street? Or would it just go out of control and run into one of those unpredictable obstacles?

Al Shei shivered and tried to pull her thoughts away from useless fears. She had only partial success. Even conjuring up Asil’s warm image didn’t help. She just saw him looking at her gravely from across the coffee table and saying, “Beloved, we might just be in for it this time.”

Finally, the tram stopped in front of Lipinski’s guest house. Al Shei climbed out gratefully. She’d had too much time to sit and think on the ride.

The guest house was a long, low building set up to resemble a series of town houses. It was a very non-traditional structure and stuck out like a sore thumb in a street of tall apartment buildings. In the yellow courtyard light, Al Shei found the registry and check-in console. She pulled out her pen and wrote her name and Lipinski’s on the board. She waited while the system located him and asked if he was willing to see her. Apparently he was, because the board blanked out the names and replaced them with his room number 419.

Al Shei hurried past the long row of doors. A shaft of light spilled out into the street and a familiar profile leaned out the door. When she reached him, Lipinski stood back and let her in.

“What’s happened?” he asked as he hesitated by the door. He shouldn’t close it and they both knew it. It was sinful conduct for her, but right now what she had to say couldn’t be overheard by anyone. Sending up a short prayer for forgiveness, she closed the door for him. Lipinski swallowed audibly.

The room was small and lightly furnished, but heavily carpeted. A mural wall was lit up with what looked like a communications map of the city. There were notes scrawled across it that must have been Lipinski’s. His booted feet didn’t make any noise as he crossed the room and slid into a chair behind the writing table. Al Shei sat on the divan near the low coffee table and forced her hands to lie still on her knees.

“Houston, if there was an AI loose in New Medina, could we do anything about it?”

Lipinski bowed his head. “What changed your mind?”

“Resit, and Uysal. They back up your theory.” She was glad she had not tried to say that while standing. Somehow, saying it out loud made it even more true. “So, I’m asking, is there anything we can do about it?”

Lipinski rested his elbows on the table and ran both hands through his hair. He held his hands clasped behind his neck as if forcing himself to keep his head bowed towards the table.

“I don’t know.” He released himself and straightened up. “The trouble is finding the damn thing. Live AIs move down any line that’ll hold them, into any place that’s got room. They’ll absorb the data that’s in there and spit it out again. They can take up two or three storage units at a time, as long as there are links between them, and move again as soon as they’ve munched down your diagnostic, or your virus.” He drummed his fingers soundlessly on the table-top. “And you’ve got a planet to search, and you don’t even know what it looks like.”

He was staring at the mural wall but Al Shei knew he wasn’t seeing it. He was seeing Kerensk and feeling the cold seep through the comm center walls while he and his masters tried to figure out what they should do next. For the first time, Al Shei realized he couldn’t have been more than fifteen when his world died.

Slowly, his expression changed. His eyes widened and his mouth relaxed. His fingers stilled and his hand flattened against the table top.

“Except this time, we do know.” His focus snapped back to the present and the place in front of him. “We’ve got the goddamned thing recorded! We know exactly what it looks like!” He was on his feet, pacing and talking to the walls.

“We down-loaded the fractured thing into the hospital. We’ve got a recording of the transaction tucked safe aboard the Pasadena. We replay it and write a search program to match the data. We can tag it. We can track it.” His voice was alight with hope and wonder. “And if we find it, we can kill it, before it takes the colony down.”

“Can you do it from here?” Al Shei asked eagerly.

Lipinski shook his head. “The lines are already starting to act up. If it’s out there, it might see any recording we download from Pasadena. So that’s not safe. Besides,” he added slowly, “this might take awhile. There’s no guarantee things won’t start falling apart before we can get to that thing.”

Al Shei sucked in a hissing breath through her teeth. “All right. Get your stuff together. I’ll check you out and get us space on the shuttle.” She was halfway to the door before he said,

“You’d better cancel leave.”

“I’d already thought of that.”

She left him there and made her way back to the check-in console, settled Lipinski’s account for him and re-registered the room as vacant.

A low rumbling cut through the air. She glanced up, looking for thunderheads. The rumbling came again. Her knees shook. She tried to still them, but couldn’t. All around her came the sound of rattling and clinking. Startled, unintelligible voices called out of the darkness. The trembling travelled up her sternum to her heart and the muscles in her neck.

Earthquake, thought Al Shei wildly.

Then it stopped. Her heart pounded hard and her knees shook from weakness this time. She looked up and down and all around her, as if she expected to see the world changed somehow.

Slowly, her knees steadied, but her heart didn’t, because she was remembering Uysal in the crowded coffee house, how he looked out across the desert city and told her about the lava that had been diverted underneath it to help create the climate’s warmth. She remembered what an engineering feat she’d thought that must be.

And how much of it is controlled by computer? And what will happen to it if those computers are no longer in command?

She felt sweat prickle her under her veil and wished Lipinski would hurry. Unhooking her leave bracelet, she laid her thumb across the command bar and wrote in the recall code. She found the free-access socket in the console and jacked the bracelet in. The console would take the bracelet’s signal and boost it up to the satellite network. As long as the satellites were working, the Pasadena crew would get the signal. Leave cancelled. Return to the ship immediately.

She just hoped the lines would stay up long enough to let them make their way to a shuttle and get back to The Gate. She knew the public lines were monitored, and that Justice Muratza could easily be notified of her cancellation order. He would want to know why she was pulling her people off planet. He would want her to stop it.

She also knew that if the worst had been allowed to happen it was her responsibility. She would face that, but she would not leave her crew in the middle of it.