(“I wasn’t meant to be a navigation computer,”) her codex said. (“It’s giving me having bad dreams.”)
(“Me too.”) Nalani’s dreams had been vivid lately, peopled with the faces and voices of associates and clients long dead. She wasn’t sure how much of her nightly hallucinations was spillover from the codex.
(“You’re used to it. I haven’t dreamed at all since that botched Judicial update of ’78. This is malpractice, I tell you.”)
The door opened and Milos stepped in. He was gaunt, his face showing hint of lines that would come later, cheeks sunken and eyes red. (“He’s living on stims,”) she thought. (“We’re all going to need a vacation after this.”) She forced a smile. “Come in, sit down. I’d ask how you are, but I’m afraid to hear the answer.”
Milos gave an equally-forced chuckle and slumped in one of the vacant couches. A rack meant for intravenous drips—glucose, stims, whatever might be needed—loomed empty above him. “We’re nearing the end. Patrika notified us that their models say we’re in the latter phase of Drop.”
“Should I get Al-Ghazali and Bhagwati down here?”
“No need right now. It’ll probably be at least a day or two.” He closed his eyes and breathed heavily. “If we pull this off, we’ll be the talk of the Planes for months.” Another deep breath, then, “Nalani, I don’t know what to do about Imric.”
(“I knew this was coming.”) “What do you want to do?”
He opened his eyes, stared into a distance beyond the close walls. “I want him back.”
“That just makes sense. The rest of your family is gone, you have the children to care for.”
“Not just that. I missed him even before…before. When he left the family, I thought I’d lost him. Now he’s back…and I don’t know if he wants to…”
She cocked her head, “You seemed fairly sure that he declined your offer of help.” A moment. “An offer that still stands, by the way. I’m happy to do whatever I can for you.” She pursed her lips. “But you have to tell me what that is.”
He sat up. “If he doesn’t want to come back, I don’t want to force him. B-but how do I know he’s free to make his own decision? I got the feeling the pirate boss was right behind him. I’d hate to think he really wanted out, and I ab-abandoned him.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’m going to recommend to the Captain that he invite Patrika’s crew aboard for a celebration once we clear Drop. I’ll make certain that you have an opportunity to talk with your Imric alone. If he truly wants free, I’ll make it happen.”
She could see tension drain from his face. “Thank you, Nalani.” He stood. “I’ve got to get back to work. We’re running another sim in ten minutes.” He gave her a brief, symbolic hug.
“I’ll be ready.” As he left, he codex said, (“It’s a pirate ship. They’re not coming to any reception.”)
(“With a Supreme Justice aboard who can order them apprehended? If they refuse, their cover as a merchant ship is blown. I’ll get Captain Kimura to sweeten the deal with repair parts, luxury goods, whatever they want. This ship is finished, might as well start stripping it.”)
(“That Imric is happy where he is. You read the divorce settlement. He’s a vagabond. He’s not going to settle down to raise a family.”)
(“Perhaps not. Still, Milos deserves some certainty. Maybe if he hears it straight from Imric’s mouth, he’ll be able to let go.”)
Her codex harrumphed, then tensed. (“Simulation starting. I want to go on record that I don’t like this.”)
(“Of course. So noted.”)
1.17 Emergence
The situation room didn’t feel the same without constant noise and activity. Milos walked around the empty space, picking up the detritus of snacks and drinks, piling them into the recycler. The instruments, muted, flashed numbers and codes into lonely dimness.
The calm before the storm, he thought.
Members of the Tiger Team, having met and exceeded the last twenty end-of-Drop simulations in a row, were off in their own bunks, catching up on sleep. Nalani and Al-Ghazali did the same in their suite, and Bhagwati snored softly next door. Even the support staff were resting. With luck, the end of the Drop would hold off for a few more hours or days, and everyone could approach it refreshed.
Milos sat at the comm station. His work was pretty much over; he had nothing to do once the Drop ended. That’s why he volunteered to babysit the situation room while everyone else took a break.
The comm circuit chimed, and he swiped it open. “Quintile Illumination, Milos here.” Giving the ship’s name felt a trifle silly—in their hermetic bottle of shared Dropspace, who else would it be?
“It’s me.” Stifling a yawn, Imric moved into view. “Hourly checkin.”
“We’re green. Ready for action. Everybody else is asleep.”
Imric sipped from a flask. “Same here. I just relieved Morcant and sent her off to her bunk.”
“How much rest have you had?”
“Plenty. Don’t worry about me.” Imric leaned closer, brows knotted. “Milos…I’ve been doing some calculations. If you and the kids launch in a lifeboat, we should be able to pick you up from Dropspace.”
Milos frowned. “That sounds chancy.”
“Not as chancy as what your lot’s trying to do.” He took a breath. “I’m worried about you.”
Milos closed his eyes for a moment; when he reopened them, Imric was still there, waiting for a reply. “You don’t have to worry. We have a good crew. The codices are as capable as a ship’s AI. Maybe more so.” He forced a smile which probably looked as weak as it felt. “Besides, where would we go? Who wants two kids on a pi—a merchant ship?”
Imric put a hand to the screen. It was a family gesture, they’d all done it in the years when…when there still was a family, and when Imric was part of it.
His throat tight, Milos touched his own fingertips to the image of Imric’s. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Thanks for thinking of it.”
“I just wanted to…to offer you a way out. Like you did with me.”
“You don’t have to make up your mind about that yet. Wait until we’re out of Drop.”
Imric nodded. “All right.” He lowered his hand, and cleared his throat. “Change of subject. Out of idle curiosity. You’ve been playing around with your AI; do you have any idea of what got you all in this spot? We’ve all been talking about it.”
“No. The logic bomb was a good one. It wiped the AI’s memory and backups.” He didn’t mention the data chunk he’d copied to his own system and had not had time to start analyzing. It was old stuff, no possible connection to their current dilemma. “Have you come up with any theories?”
“None.” Imric sighed. “When Quintile Illumination sent its distress call, it blasted out a huge data bump. We caught some of it, but it looks like old data from a ship called Immanent Elliptical. ”
“That’s the ship our AI served in before it became QI. They wrecked, and the AI was salvaged.”
Imric’s eyebrows lifted. “The same AI, on two ships, and both of them have serious accidents?” He looked left and right, then whispered, “I wonder if our capa knows that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
Milos shrugged. “You should be talking to our pilot. He might knows more about what happened with Immanent Elliptical. I’m not sure what, but he’s dropped some hints.”
“Which one is he?”
“Val Millat. I’m sure you’ve seen him.” The corners of Milos’s lips twitched. “He’s attractive, in an exotic way.”
Imric nodded. “I know who you mean.”
“Anyway, I know he was chatting with Quintile Illumination before—”
Imric pulled back. “Say, do you remember that fellow we rented workspace from, oh, maybe eight-ten years ago? Ximun something?” His voice had a forced casual tone, and he stared directly into Milos’s eyes.
“What? Yes, I remember hi
m. Ximun kaHuise. He was sure a character.” The rentier was fairly unpleasant, a bully really, likely to show up at all hours for inspections where he complained about what he considered violations. The last straw came when Imric discovered concealed pickups in every room, and they realized kaHuise was constantly spying on them all. They were out of the space by day’s end, and when he demanded a payment to break the lease, Imric mentioned going before a Judiciar, and the man backed down.
Milos wondered how Nalani would have dealt with him. That would have been worth seeing.
Imric nodded. “I wonder what he’s doing now?”
“I heard he moved up in one of the pirate syndicates. Why do you—?”
Oh.
It suddenly dawned on him that Imric was sending a message, in coded language that only Milos could understand. A pirate…spying…listening to everything they said….
“Something just reminded me of him. Maybe your AI moving into a new ship suddenly.”
“I get it.” Milos hoped Imric would read his meaning. “I guess it turned out okay, we found that new space that overlooked the park module, remember?”
Imric gave a genuine smile. “And right across from that place that made those fantastic cakes.”
“That’s right! I had forgotten those cakes.” Milos’s stomach growled, and he laughed. “Now I’m hungry. We’ve got some pretty good food. You’ll find out when you come aboard for the celebration.”
“Capa still hasn’t agreed to that. I think she wants to get where she’s going once we hit Fourth Plane.”
“I guess we’ll see.” Milos glanced at the time display. “This has been a long checkin. I’d better let you go.” And have a snack, he thought.
“I do have things to do. Take care, Milos.”
“You too. Signing off.”
Nalani steepled her fingers and looked at Milos over them. “You think the pirate captain is interested in Sen Millat’s information?”
They were in a compact lounge not far from the situation room, big enough for the three of them—Milos, Nalani, and Val—to sit around a small table. Milos leaned forward, wringing his hands. “That’s the impression I got from Imric. I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.” He glanced at Val. “I figured you two should know what went on.”
Val grunted. Nalani frowned at him. ”What are you thinking, Sen Millat?”
“Val,” he said. “Or is this a formal inquiry?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. Friends gossiping.” She speared Milos with an intense gaze. “Concerned friends.”
“Look, I don’t think there’s any reason to worry. Yes, I talked with Quintile Illumination. Improving my piloting skills. It gave me practice problems to work on.”
Milos started to say something, but Nalani stopped him. She stared at Val. “Go on.”
Val shrugged. “Nothing much to say.”
Nalani gave one of her comforting smiles. “Perhaps I can try to convince you of then potential for concern. I’m not asking that you betray any confidences—can you tell me if those practice problems related to the Immanent Elliptical?”
Val looked from one to the other, then sighed. “I believe so. Yes, they did. It was a weird situation. I felt as if I could learn a lot by analyzing what went on then.”
“Mmm,” Nalani said, leaning back in her chair. “We know that the Patrika’s crew and captain are aware of part of the Immanent Elliptical’s final voyage. We know they’re interested in learning more.”
Milos nodded. “That’s what Imric said.”
“I don’t see—”
Nalani held up a finger. “We know that Patrika followed us into Drop, so close that our two ships were entangled in the same Dropspace. I gather that this isn’t likely to be accidental.”
Val opened his mouth, closed it, and said, “It could happen by accident. But you’re right, it’s much more probable that they deliberately followed us.”
“So perhaps they had a pre-existing interest in the Quintile Illumination. I suppose the AI’s connection with the Immanent Elliptical is a matter of public record? It certainly appears in court proceedings at the time.”
Milos spoke up. “It wouldn’t be hard to find out.”
Nalani chewed her lower lip. “A pirate captain has her ship pursue Quintile Illumination into Drop. She knows the AI’s history. She has unanswered questions about the AI’s former ship. What could she be after, I wonder?”
Milos and Val exchanged glances, and Milos said, “Information from the AI about the accident.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you think Patrika set the logic bomb on us?”
“Destroy the bearer of the information she came for? I don’t think so. I imagine her plan involved accessing our AI after Drop, possibly by faking an emergency to get her agents aboard.” The Supreme Justice closed her eyes. “Now here’s the major point. The AI that holds her answers is wiped clean. But she hears of someone who might have preserved its data, in part or entire.” She looked up. “What does she do?”
Milos shivered. “We’ve both got…you think she might try to grab us?”
Nalani reached forward and touched Milos’s clenched hands. “Think carefully. Does Imric—or anyone—know that you have a chunk of the Quintile Illumination’s data?”
Val looked at him with wide eyes. “You have data from the AI?”
Milos glanced at Nalani, who gave him the slightest nod. “An encrypted chunk,” he admitted. “I don’t know what’s in it, or how long it’ll take me to decrypt. If I even can.” To Nalani, he said, “No one else knows.”
“So you’re relatively safe, for now at least.” She turned to Val. “Do you understand now why I’m concerned for you?”
Val straightened his shoulders. “I don’t see what she can do to me.”
“You’ve not spent much time on the Second Plane?”
“No.”
“I assume you’ve heard stories. Pirate vessels are usually heavily armed. They generally seize what they want, materiel or people.”
Val paled. “You don’t think….”
“No, I don’t. I suspect. As I said, I’m concerned.”
“What should I do?”
“Mmmm.” Nalani closed her eyes again. “When we emerge on the Fourth Plane, I’m sure Patrika will contact us. Or vice versa. Expressions of gratitude, exchange of pleasantries, an invitation to come aboard for a celebration. Much to discuss. Much to engage their attention.” She opened her eyes, locking them on Val’s face. “A lifepod launched from our ship’s opposite side would be indetectable in our sensor shadow. Especially if piloted by someone who could keep it that way.”
“You think I should jump ship.”
“Whatever action Patrika takes, I would feel less…concerned…if you were not on board. OncePatrika departs, you can make your way to our next port.”
Val swallowed. “I’m traveling with a friend.”
“Take them with you. Never leave hostages for fate if you can avoid it.”
“Kimura will kill me. I’ll lose my place and rank.”
She cocked her head. “If necessary, I’ll explain everything to the Captain. And I would think after successfully piloting us out of Drop without an AI, you’ll have your choice of assignments, no?”
With a frown, Val said, “I don’t know. I wish I knew—”
The alarm caught Milos by surprise. Val jumped up. “That’s it. We’re coming to the end of Drop. I have to go.”
Nalani stood. “I as well.” She squeezed Val’s shoulder. “Think about what I said.”
“I will.” At a run, he took off toward the situation room.
Nalani held out her hand. “Milos, will you walk me to our chamber?”
Static hissed in the speakers, coming from the channel they had established with Patrika, and a voice said, “Approaching end state. Within twenty—”
There was a flat crack, more sensation than sound, and the exit alarms all sounded at once. Val’s board flared red, and he grabbed the twin sticks th
at controlled the shape of the transit fields. He could feel resistance in all dimensions, and closed his eyes, trying to feel out the shape that would take them safely out of Drop. This was what the AI were supposed to do, the millions of small and large calculations that let the human crew concentrate on the ship’s internal systems, and without it—
He shoved the thought aside, making himself concentrate on the way the sticks felt against his palms. There was slack when he moved the left-hand stick forward, and he pressed into it, tightening the field; the right stick trembled on the edge of a shelf flare, and he eased it back toward center. He could feel them slipping, sliding out of true, and eased the sticks toward center, steering into the skid. It held, wobbled, held again for an instant and then began to slide in the other direction, the sticks vibrating harder and harder against his fingers. He opened his eyes, but the screens were full of chaos and blue fire, nothing that would help him stabilize the fields. And then at last one of the AI turned its attention his way, caught up the shredding fields and wove them back together, the formulae inelegant but effective.
There was no time for relief. More alarms blared—environmentals, engines, comm-and-transcomm, nearly every system on the ship protesting the absence of AI or the presence of unfamiliar ones. Val felt himself grow momentarily light, and was glad he’d remembered to fasten the straps that held him in his seat. Then gravity returned, and he reached for the main controls, trying to make sense of the situation.
Somehow they’d emerged from Drop in a flat spin, whirling around the ship’s long axis the way single-system craft used centripetal force to simulate gravity. The shields were holding, but under tremendous strain, scarlet warnings scrolling across his display. You couldn’t fix it too quickly, though; that would only tear the ship apart. He closed his ears to the blaring alarms, found the correct screen, and began adjusting the maneuver engines. He kept them at quarter power first, barely enough to to damp out the irregular movements; as the ship eased and steadied, he increased power, slowing and then countering the spin, until at last Quintile Illumination was steady on her main axis. The engines still showed yellow—he wouldn’t be at all surprised if the effort of breaking out of Drop hadn’t strained them permanently—but there was power enough to keep them moving toward their destination.
Five Planes Page 21
