Sanrosa, head high, met her eyes. “Thank you for that. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” She paused, her lips a tight, straight line. “I trust you won’t take offense if I say that at this point, I’m sick and tired of the Judiciary and glad to be leaving.”
“Offense? Hardly. I think that’s a very measured and mature response, under the circumstances. We deserve worse.” She sighed. “Will you be returning to the University?”
“Immediately, yes. They were nice enough to keep me on the payroll through this...contretemps. I’m headed to my home now, and I’ll be in my office tomorrow morning.”
“That’s immediately. What about ultimately?”
Sanrosa looked a little surprised. “I can’t stay. Not after this. Not with all my colleagues aware of what...happened.” She swallowed. “I was invited to join an expedition to study archaic period sites on the Fourth Plane. At first I turned them down, but now I’ve changed my mind. They’ve made space for me; we’ll be leaving by the end of the month.”
Nalani gave her a data flake. “I want to help however I can. Here are letters of introduction and some other documents. I’ve included instructions for the Judiciary to assist you, on my authority. Use them.”
“That’s very decent of you, Sen.”
“It’s the least I can do. We disrupted your life.”
Sanrosa gave the barest smile. “Perhaps it’s for the best. If this hadn’t happened, I’d never have agreed to go on this expedition. Maybe my life needed a little disruption.”
“May it be so.” Nalani stood. “Best of luck, Professor.”
“And to you.”
After three days of almost non-stop work, Milos called Nalani to his workshop and shut the door. “I have an answer for you. I don’t know if it’s a satisfying one.”
Nalani took a seat and accepted the mug of coffee he handed her. “I’m ready.”
“It’s a mess. I approached the problem with the theory that there was one distinct locus of corruption which was then spreading through the codices on the Plane. That turned out not to be the case.”
“How many?”
“Two, I believe, spaced a few years apart. The first infection, about ten years ago, started in Sanrosa-territory codices. The second, about five years ago, seems to have been an attempt to repair the damage of the first.”
“Obviously one that didn’t work.”
Milos frowned. “That’s part of what makes this case so complex. The second infection tried to repair the first, but the first resisted. It was as if the original infection was programmed to appear to fade, then counterattack. It incorporated code from the repair program, ultimately making the corruption worse.“
”Milos, this sounds like some awfully sophisticated programming. AI level or better.“
”Oh, definitely. I wouldn’t be surprised a rogue AI isn’t involved.“
Nalani nodded. ”So we’re looking for a rogue AI, possibly with a human partner or partners? One with both the expertise and the opportunity to infiltrate the Judiciary. That’s not much for a Plane-wide search. Do you have anything else for me?“
Milos shook his head. ”I don’t think the original programmer is on this Plane any longer. I suspect they left the Fifth Plane after delivering the infection, and there’s no evidence they returned. When the original infection counterattacked, that was all self-generated. Nothing came from outside the system.“ Seeing Nalani’s look, he added, ”I have a name for you, or at least a designation. The original programmer called themself ’Silver.’“
”Someone or something called Silver, somewhere in the Five Planes.“ Nalani forced a wan smile. ”More than we had before, I guess. If this corruption is so powerful, so able to defend itself, will we be ever able to eliminate it?“
”It’ll take a wipe-and-replace of all the corrupted codices. Which is standard procedure. I’ll leave detailed notes of my analysis for the Judiciary techs who come to fix things.“ He swallowed. ”It’s not a job I’d care to undertake, but the regular techs should have no trouble.”
“All right. What about the second infection, the repair attempt?”
“I was able to identify the person responsible.” He met Nalani’s eyes. “They left you a message.”
For a moment her breath went away. “Left me a message?”
“Yes, you in particular.”
“Wh-Who?”
Milos rose. “I’d better let you view it alone. There’s a large portion keyed to your identity codes.” He handed her a board and left the room.
Nalani stared at the board. (“This is ridiculous,”) she said to her codex. (“Just in case, I want you to lock your programs until I give you the all-clear.”)
(“I’ll do my best to resist being reprogrammed.”)
Nalani tapped the board. Text appeared, conveying her name and title, plus a few of her better known routine aliases. It invited her to confirm her identity.
(“Confirm.”)
An image built up, a face she knew better than her own: Accursius XVII.
Nalani’s codex reported, (“Identity confirmed. That’s her.”)
Her friend waited a moment, then spoke. “Well, Nalani, now we come to it. I don’t expect you’ll ever see this. In fact, I hope to have this business finished up and be there for our next annual rendezvous.” Accursius shrugged. “If you are viewing this, then it’s most likely that matters have not gone according to plan.”
Nalani gripped the board’s frame.
Accursius continued. “I was hoping to keep you completely out of this. C’est la vie; you’re in it now, and I guess that’s a good thing. It may be that I could use some help.” She brushed back a loose strand of hair. “Thing is, I discovered that my codex is corrupted. Never mind the details, I’ll attach a report detailing what I know. Suffice it to say that I followed the trail to the Sanrosa territory on the Fifth Plane. As you’ve probably discovered, someone’s been tampering with local codices. My data workers are going to launch a repair worm, but they can’t guarantee it’ll work.”
(“It didn’t.”)
“Meanwhile, I’m on the track of someone or something that calls itself Silver. I have good reason to believe it’s headed for the Fourth Plane—Sanrosa holdings, most likely. I intend to follow it and get to the bottom of this mess.” She leaned closer. “Don’t come making a big scene. I’m working undercover and may have to juggle aliases. And please, for the moment, don’t bring the Valley in on this. The last thing we need is for those ignoramuses to barge in and upset everything. Remember Thor Five.”
(“Oh, why does she have to do this to me?”)
“One last thing, Nalani.” Her voice quavered. “If I have run into problems, I could really use your help. I hate to put you on the spot, but you’re the only one I would ever trust.” She raised her fingers to the screen. “I love you, Nal.”
Nalani touched her fingers to the image of Accursius’s. “I love you too, Jays.”
The image dissolved, replaced by a listing of attachments.
Nalani's shook her head and whispered, "Oh, Jays, what have you gotten yourself into now?" (“Download everything,”) she told her codex. (“I want to read it all.”)
(“What are you planning next?”)
Nalani covered her face with her hands. (“I don’t know.”)
Val balanced easily against the side of the transport car, attention focused on his board. He had put his name in at the Hiring Hall as soon as he landed, and offers were beginning to trickle in—mostly from single-Plane FTL ships, but a couple of the multi-planars had put out feelers. Neither were as big or as fancy as Iridium Azimuth, and the pay was correspondingly less, but they were still good jobs. Opus Technica was probably the better of the two: she was a certified mail carrier, so that even the Second Plane pirates hesitated to interfere with her, and her systems were recently overhauled. The other was the Quintile Illumination, a mid-sized, mid-class multi-planar, scheduled to leave orbit in just over sixty hours. Th
at would be cutting it tight, to get signed on and get on board, plus he wasn’t sure what kind of arrangement her owners had to get her through the Second Plane. On the other hand, if he wanted to leave the Fifth Plane quickly… He repressed the desire to look over his shoulder. He hadn’t seen any sign of his shadow since the night before; surely he was free of them by now.
The car slowed, lights chasing each other along the edge of the doors, and he shifted to be in position to make a quick exit. The doors rolled back, admitting a swirl of warm evening air, and he let the crowd carry him down to ground level. There was still no sign of anyone paying undue attention, and he allowed himself to relax a little, looking around like a tourist at the low buildings. He hadn’t been in the University area before, and the amount of vegetation was startling. There were potted trees in the alleys between the square little buildings, and entire lots left open to the sky, carpeted with grass and starred with flowers, the sort of thing you saw more often on the First Plane, or growing wild on the Third. This was all neatly clipped and tended, every vine wound onto a well-planned terrace, the grass uniformly five centimeters tall, not a twig or a leaf lying beneath the trees. The students in their old-fashioned knee-length coats bustled past in waves, avoiding the signs of nature. It was a little unnerving, a little unreal, and he was glad when he spotted the tea-house Sanrosa had named in her reply.
It was reassuringly plain and plant-free, with just the traditional raked-gravel beds on either side of the main door. The translucent curtains that filled the enormous windows had been rolled up as the light faded, and lights glowed on each of the low tables. This late in the day, it wasn’t particularly crowded, and it was easy to spot Caridad Sanrosa sitting alone just inside the left-hand window. She seemed to feel his gaze, and looked up sharply, frown fading to curiosity, and he squared his shoulders as he stepped through the door.
“Sen Caridad Sanrosa?”
She nodded.
“I’m Val Millat.”
“Please, sit.” She gestured to the waiting chair. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering tea service.”
Val did as he was told. “Perhaps you’d be so good as to let me pay? Since I’m putting you to some trouble.”
Something like a smile flickered across her lips. “We’ll see. Tell me how you know Sami.”
“I know his sister Kiri,” Val answered. He hesitated, then threw caution to the winds. “Sen, I was the senior pilot on a multi-planar—”
“Iridium Azimuth?” It was just barely a question.
Val nodded. “We had a rough passage through the Second Plane, and a bad Drop, barely made it out intact. I was on the controls. And in the process—I saw something that I could only interpret as the Fifth Ship. Other people also saw—something—and it was the talk of the ship as we circled the First Plane and Vaulted up to Fifth. So of course I wanted to find out more, but I didn’t know where to get reliable information. And Kiri—she’s been a friend for years—suggested that what I needed was academic sources, not cultist stuff. She said her brother had worked with you.”
He thought Sanrosa looked disappointed, but it was hard to read her lack of expression. A waiter rumbled over then, and she unloaded the tray of little savories, the box of condiments, the cups, and finally the fat teapot in its thermal wrapping. She laid them out with automatic precision, and Val made himself fall in with the ritual as they each prepared a cup and filled a plate. She had chosen to speak with him personally, he thought. Surely that meant she was willing to help.
Sanrosa sipped thoughtfully at her cup, and set it aside with a nod that might have been approval. “I can certainly give you a reading list. Much of it is fairly dry even by academic standards, but there’s nothing a layman couldn’t follow with a bit of effort.”
“That would be enormously helpful.”
“Would it? I’m not sure what you expect to get out of this, sen.”
Val paused. “I want—sen, if what I saw wasn’t one of the First Ships, I don’t know what it could have been. And at the same time, I do know that’s impossible.”
“Any number of explanations have been offered,” Sanrosa said, wrapping her long fingers around her cup, her eyes narrowed in pleasure. “Most of them neurological.”
“Or psychological,” Val agreed. “Except—I am as sure as a man can be that I wasn’t hallucinating, and that something led me out of a potentially fatal situation. I want to know what, and why.”
“It cannot be the Fifth Ship,” Sanrosa said. “They’re all accounted for, according to the lineages, and in any case how could it have survived this long?”
“Lineage attributions aren’t particularly reliable,” Val said. “Even I know that.”
Sanrosa smiled. “Touché.”
“Besides…” Val hesitated again, shaking his head. “Sen, I’m going to sound as though I have issues with reality, but please hear me out.”
“I’m listening.”
“Since I saw the Ship, since I started asking questions, weird things have been happening. My captain tried to shut me down completely, and when I kept talking about it, she essentially kicked me off Iridium Azimuth. Then I ran into some people who wanted all the information I could give them about the encounter, and were really insistent that I should come with them to be scanned by some psi-engineer of theirs. I said no, and ever since, people have been following me…” Val felt himself run down, hearing how off-balance he sounded. He heaved a sigh, knowing he’d lost her, but to his surprise, Sanrosa put a finger to her lips.
“Don’t turn, but would you know the person when you saw them?”
Val blinked, made himself shake his head. “Not really, I’ve never gotten a decent look at their face. Faces, I don’t even know how many of them there might be—”
“Hush,” Sanrosa said again, and lifted the teapot. Val pushed his cup toward her automatically, and she refilled it. From a distance, they would look like teacher and student, or mother and son. “There is a man sitting at a table behind you. He came in when you did, and I’ve been watching him watch you.” She smiled again, her expression wry. “I thought perhaps he was a jealous partner, from the way he doesn’t take his eyes off you.”
Val held himself rigid, though he wanted to swing around and stare—wanted to get up and confront the stranger, finally get rid of some of the helplessness he had felt since the lecture.
“Please don’t start anything,” Sanrosa said, as though she’d read the thought. “My reputation has been battered enough lately.” She reached into her pocket, and came up with a small databoard, the sort technicians used to investigate narrow spaces. Val took it and lit the screen, pretending to read the display while he angled the sensor to look over his shoulder. Yes, there the man was, and not even being very subtle about it, a stocky, light-haired man whose eyes were indeed fixed on their table. Val shivered once, and handed the board back.
“I see him. I don’t recognize him, though.”
“But I do,” Sanrosa said. His surprise must have shown, because she lifted both eyebrows. “In my profession, it’s useful to know the local artifact-hunters—and fakers, though Radam is more of a scholar than many. And that makes me wonder… I’ve had some troubles of my own recently, and the people who believe in the Fifth Ship are capable of almost anything. My advice to you, young man, is to take my reading list back to your ship and do your research in the virtual for a few years.”
“I don’t actually have a ship at the moment,” Val said.
“That’s unfortunate.”
Val shook himself. “I’m on hold for a couple of berths, it won’t be a problem.”
Sanrosa regarded him dubiously. “Still, I think it would be as well if you weren’t followed when you leave here. I can take you through the University. Sen Radam won’t be admitted there.”
“Thank you,” Val said. The historian was right, going through the university would be his best chance of losing his pursuers. But… “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“Nonsense.” Sanrosa waved at the table. “Finish your tea, there’s no sense in wasting it.”
She was right, of course, but it was hard to concentrate on the excellent food. Val made himself finish his share of the savories, knowing he might miss a meal later, and accepted the offer of a second tray. When it and the teapot were finally empty, Sanrosa folded her napkin with deliberation. The waiter came trundling over, and Val paid the bill, watching Sanrosa watch the stranger behind him.
1.10 Departures
Divine Mountain was never quiet, not the way smaller ships were quiet, sound reduced to the hiss of ventilation and the faint, distant ticking of metal. It was as large as a small moon, habitats piled upon habitats around the central core, and all of them were stuffed with people, crew and kin and rafts of hostages waiting to be ransomed. There were ships, too, more than a dozen docked to the convoluted surface, standard FTL-ships, rafts, and even a couple of small multiplanars mated to the hull. Last Fair Deal was the smallest of the latter, tucked in between the trailing lobes of Divine Mountain’s left upper quadrant. It was an exceptionally secure docking point, shielded by tertiary storage spaces and overlooked by one of the equatorial gun emplacements; getting clear of Divine Mountain was correspondingly difficult but, on balance, Morcant Vetrys thought, the increased security was worth the effort. And she was a better pilot than most, capable of clearing the channel even in hyperflux.
At the moment, she had the main locks open, the better to facilitate the transfer of supplies, and was sitting just inside the personnel lock, letting Divine Mountain’s air flow over her. The bigger ship had dozens of hydro-pods, even, it was rumored, a bottled forest, and the air she shared with her fleet always smelled fresh and clean and faintly green. It also moved, like air on a planet, a gentle touch that stirred the fine hairs at Morcant’s temples. She glanced at the screen overhead, where the bots were rolling pallets with Llian ap Farr’s share of the latest prize into the main hold. She and Derrian would have to sort it out later, once ap Farr told them what was for the ship’s use and what was for trade, but at least it would be safe aboard in case of emergency.
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