Pedros Costa nodded. “It’s not just this Plane that’s affected, Supreme Justice. We have cargoes that should be on transplanars, stranded here instead. Nano-medicines for an epidemic on three Third Plane planets, fusion reactors for refugees on Second, a planetary heat shield generator for a failing colony world...” He spread his hands. “It goes on and on.”
Nalani’s codex fed her information, and she frowned. “There was a safe passage agreement in force. Looks like it expired last month. Why was it now renewed?”
Rin Bae sighed. “Aye. That agreement was negotiated by Superior Justice Korinek IX, may her soul be at peace.”
(“Wait, Konni was here? What happened to her?”)
(“Died nearly three months ago.”)
(“I’ll definitely want to talk with her. Send a request down to the Valley, highest priority.”)
(“Nalani, she was killed in an explosion. No body ever recovered. Nothing to put in stasis and send down for restoration. She’s gone.”)
“Supreme Justice?”
She returned her attention to the conference room, where all the Captains were staring at her. “Pardon me. An unrelated matter.” Reassuring smile number four. “Thank you for coming to me with this news. I assume you appealed to Superior Justice Ocampo. What was his response?”
Rin Bae met her eyes. “There has been no response.”
(“I want records of ever related communication, motions filed, everything you can find.”) “I see.” She stood; the others followed. “Well, the current situation is intolerable. We must get shipping moving again.” She looked around the group. “If you can all get me detailed reports on what’s held up, I would appreciate it.”
They all nodded agreement.
To Rin Bae, she said, “I appreciate that HEMGI Kaisha and Gongsi P3WO couldn’t be here. Tell me, are their shipments affected as well?”
“Yes, Supreme Justice. Slightly less than the rest of us, as they can largely route through their own secure territory.”
“I want their reports as well.”
“I’ll see to it.”
She bowed to them.”Thank you, Sens. I’ll get this sorted out as soon as possible. It’s no longer a Fourth Plane matter; this is transplanar now.”
They returned her bow and filed out. She turned to Al-Ghazali. “I have some work for you.”
“Whatever you need, Thurgood.”
“I want to know how far this war posturing has gone. Get me reports from other economic sectors—as many as you can in the next day. Get Sapnara to help you gather the information.”
“As you wish.”
“Have your codex work with mine if you need help. Don’t be afraid to use my authority.” She led the younger woman out into the large circular atrium, teeming with plants and trickling fountains, that served as a hub for all the offices and ancillary rooms.
They stopped at the door to Al-Ghazali’s chambers, a repurposed storage closet. “What are you going to be doing, Thurgood?”
“Trying to get two hostile CEOs to a negotiating table.”
Al-Ghazali gave a wry grin. “I’m glad you didn’t give me that assignment. I wish you luck.”
Nalani actually smiled her genuine smile. “Thank you, but my bag of dirty tricks has some things better than luck.” She touched Al-Ghazali’s shoulder. “Remember, dinner with Milos and the kids tonight. Let’s meet in my chambers and we can go over together.”
It took Milos a few days to get himself and the children settled into their new quarters. Finally he was able to steal a few hours, after tucking Dav and Zofia in, to settle down at the small but adequate dining shelf and get some work done.
As his system negotiated its way into then local nets, he ticked of points in his mind. Childcare and education, done—the kids started at a nearby full-service center tomorrow morning. He’d have to locate office space he could lease, something not too far away....
A call popped up before him, coded with Judiciary seals. Intrigued, he touched answer.
No image. A peasant baritone voice said, “Sen Savoire, I welcome you on behalf of the collective Judicial codices of the Fourth Plane.”
He ran an analysis; the connection was authentic. “Th-thank you. I...I’m honored. This isn’t standard procedure, is it?”
A chuckle, utterly inhuman yet charming. “No indeed. We seldom deal with humans not part of the Judiciary.”
“Then why am I so lucky?”
“Sen Savoire, you analyzed the corruption that affected nearly 32% of codices on this Plane. Your name is well-known throughout our community.” Sounding almost shy, the voice added, “We consider you a friend.”
Milos shivered. Sure, after helping Nalani, he probably knew more about codices than any other outsider—but he'd never heard of such a relationship.
“Thanks, I guess. Uh...with whom am I speaking? A composite?”
“Yes, I am a composite virtual entity maintained in shared codex dataspace. If you wish a casual sobriquet, I would be happy to answer to Ma’at.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ma’at.” What am I into here? Milos wondered.
“In anticipation of your probable need for convenient workspace, I reserved an office in the same complex as Supreme Justice Thurgood IX. Shall I confirm for you?”
“Oh, I was going to lease commercial space. I might not be working on Judiciary matters.”
He could almost feel an invisible head shaking. “Sen, this arrangement is not contingent on you exclusively addressing Judiciary business. It offers a minimax solution to the balance between safety, security, and your convenience. Please be aware that this is an acknowledgment of your value to the codex community—in the vernacular, ‘your money is no good here.’”
Milos gulped. “Well, then, I suppose my best course is to accept with gratitude. Thank you.” Something tickled in his mind—despite their considerable personalities, codices spoke precisely. “Security,” he echoed. “How long have you been...aware of my presence here of Fourth?”
“The Abi-eshuh codex informed us as soon as it entered our network, within ninety thousand nanoseconds of the completion of your drop.” The Abi-eshuh, Milos remembered, was Nalani’s codex. “The Bel-Ibni and Nur-adad codices reported your proximity in a similar chronological locus.” Al-Ghazali’s and Bhagwati’s codices.
He straightened up. “Wait. You know where codices are.” He waved his hand. “Yes, no, of course you do. Can you track the Nur-adad?”
“The Nur-adad codex remained very near to the other two for a considerable time. Then it moved toward another codex, which emerged on this Plane under a privacy envelope in the same time locus, a short distance away.”
“Another codex?” Did Nalani know? “Which one?”
“The privacy envelope included anonymity.”
“Okay. What happened to the Nur-adad?”
“It signaled an entry into hyperspace, which introduced a discontinuity. So far as we know it has not subsequently emerged.” A pause. “Several hundred nanoseconds before transition, the Nur-adad was engulfed by the unknown codex’s privacy envelope. If it remains so, we may not be aware of its position.”
“Has that unidentified codex come out of hyperspace?”
“We have no evidence that it has. Currently, no codices we track are operating in anonymous mode.”
We’ve got her, Milos thought. Even if we don’t know what the mystery codex is, the others will know where it is as soon as it comes back into normal space. “Thank you, Ma’at. What you’ve told me is a big help.”
Nalani sat at her desk and absently tapped her fingers on the surface. Some kind of brushed metal alloy, dark grey and with a texture that diffused reflections. She’d certainly worked at worse. She restrained herself from asking her codex how many desks she’d sat behind in her career.
(“Who are the current CEOs of HEMGI Kaisha and Gongsi P3WO?”)
Her codex answered instantly. (“Sara MacReo Naksatra and Il-Sung ibn Minji Shibata Sanxing. I suppos
e you want to speak with them?”)
(“Yes. As soon as you can. Separately.”)
(“To hear is to obey. Anything else, boss?”)
(“I’ll want troops and support staff—at least one task force from First and whatever Fifth has available. Send a highest-priority request down, alpha code level, immediate departure, further units on standby. Copies to Razzaq VI, Mazeaud XII, and Pizada III.”)
(“Do you think it’s going to come to that?”)
She ignored her codex’s question. (“I also want two Superior Justices, and a couple of plain Justices from Fifth who want to jump their service level. Make that last one an open appeal.”)
(“You’re going to take on Ocampo.”)
(“I might not need any troops...but if I do, I want ones who aren’t loyal to him.”)
(“Stand by for Il-Sung ibn Minji Shibata Sanxing, CEO of Gongsi P3WO.”)
She smoothed her robe, clasped her hands before her on the desktop, and faced a large datascreen on the opposite wall. (“Go ahead.”)
A stern, lined face appeared on the screen, a face like the twisted bark of an ancient banyan tree. The eyes were obsidian, the hair wisps of white, and the mouth a long-healed crooked gash above the gnarled chin. “I am honored to speak with you, Supreme Justice. What service can I do you?”
The last time Nalani had been on the Fourth Plane, some three decades ago, she’d dealt Sanxing a stinging defeat in the form of a twelve-digit fine for stock manipulation. She was under no illusions that the man would have forgotten.
“Sen Sanxing, I find myself passing through and setting up operations here on Perbaikan Rock for a while. I’m having a small reception tomorrow evening; I hope you’ll be able to attend.”
(“A small reception?”) her codex queried. (“Odd, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”)
(“Very small. Two CEOs and me. Set it up.”)
Sanxing bowed her head. “My pleasure.” An invitation from a Supreme Justice could not be refused; the only acceptable excuse was death. And for some Supreme Justices, even that did not suffice.
“Delightful. I’ll send along the details. Until tomorrow night.” (“End communication.”)
The image vanished, and Nalani took a breath. One down.
Her codex said, (“I suppose you’ll want to notify Ocampo?”)
(“I think not. He’ll hear of it soon enough, I warrant.”)
(“He knows already, I warrant.”) A pause, then, (“Stand by for Sara MacReo Naksatra, CEO of HEMGI Kaisha.”)
(“Go ahead.”)
Naksatra was younger, probably under seventy. On Nalani’s previous tour she’d been one of many second-level officers in the conglomerate’s labyrinthine hierarchy. The peaceful record of her ascension to the highest level screamed to Nalani of extensive scrubbing.
“Supreme Justice, I am unworthy.”
(“Just once, can’t someone simply say hello?”) “Sen Naksatra, your accomplishments are legendary. Thank you for calling so promptly.”
“It is my privilege.”
(“I’m going to become physically ill.”) “I wonder if you would do me the favor of attending a small reception I’m holding tomorrow night?”
Naksatra’s eyes widened slightly, and Nalani wondered if the woman might genuinely be starstruck. She hoped not—those were even worse than the pretenders. “Of course. Wild aurochs couldn’t keep me away.” She casually tapped the security icon displayed in the lower left corner of the screen. “If you’ll permit an impertinent question—will Superior Justice Ocampo be there?”
(“She’s good.”) “I certainly hope so, but he’s a very busy man.”
The corners of Naksatra’s lips twitched. “I see. We’ll know when we know.” She blinked. “In any case, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Until then,” Nalani said.
“I shall be counting the hours.” (“End communication.”)
Nalani leaned back in her chair. (“She’s an astute one.”)
(“She’s a dangerous one.”)
(“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”)
In the recesses of its processors, the Cubaba codex contemplated the request. There were a number of variables, and no way to weight the crucial ones; it ran a series of scenarios, and then re-ran them, accounting for the presence of both the Apprentice Justice Bhagwati and the Nur-Adad Codex, before turning its attention outward again. Ap Farr had not moved, the glass bubble at her side still half empty, pale fingers curled around the fragile sphere. "Well?" she asked, as though she had felt the shift—and probably she had, the codex thought. They had been together long enough for her to pick up the subtle signals. There had never been any question that ap Farr was an exceptionally observant human.
"It remains a risk."
"What level of risk?" Ap Farr sipped at her drink.
"The level of risk is low," the codex conceded, "but the consequences of failure are potentially catastrophic."
"If Nur-Adad gains access to our systems," ap Farr began, and the codex dared to interrupt.
"Or Bhagwati. Do not rule him out."
Ap Farr paused. "You think he could do it?"
"I think he is highly motivated." The codex allowed a touch of dry amusement to seep into its tone. "He is, after all, being held prisoner by pirates."
"Touché.” Ap Farr laughed. "All right. If Nur-Adad or Bhagwati gain access to the comms, they could conceivably call for help. How long would it take for them to get a response?”
"At our current position, and given the political situation, no less than thirty hours, and more likely forty to forty-five."
"By which time, we can and will be elsewhere," ap Farr said.
"That assumes that any call for help would be detected as it was made," the codex pointed out.
"You'd better be up to that." Ap Farr lifted an eyebrow.
"Nothing and no one is infallible," the codex answered. "And if you are caught now, I remind you, all your plans will be undone."
Ap Farr was silent, and for a moment the codex thought it had persuaded her. Then she shook her head. "We have a chance to cut through a great tangle here, if Imric will only talk to his former husband. And I think he will, they were glad to have each other in Dropspace, and I'm sure they still have things to say to each other."
"That will certainly draw the notice of Supreme Justice Thurgood," the codex said. There was more it would have liked to say on the subject, but ap Farr had made her opinions clear about that. "I don't think it's worth the risk."
"No one is infallible," ap Farr retorted.
The codex flinched. It knew it was damaged - that was the term it preferred; others might be more applicable, but ‘damaged’ implied the possibility of repair - but usually ap Farr went out of her way to ignore that fact. "A point that is applicable to my surveillance of our prisoners."
"True enough," ap Farr said. "But it's what I want."
There was a familiar note in hr voice, and the codex would have sighed if that gesture would have offered it emotional release. "Very well. Nevertheless I reserve the right to remind you that I objected to this decision."
"By all means." Ap Farr's smile was feral. “But I doubt you'd find it satisfying."
Quite probably not, the codex thought. It had grown used to ap Farr's persona, though it could not say it liked dealing with it. Nonetheless, it feared disaster was increasingly inevitable.
1.22 On the Brink
“Do you think this will do?” Superior Judge Sapnara III usually kept her head slightly bowed when she spoke to Nalani; she raised her eyes at the end of her question.
Nalani gave delighted smile two, and took the shorter woman’s hands. “It’s exactly what I would have asked for, if I’d known it existed.” She looked down, meeting Sapnara’s gaze. “I’m fortunate to have you on my team.” Se looked around. “Can everything be ready by the time they get here?”
“Yes, Thurgood. The caterer’s standing by to set up as soon as we get back. That’ll take l
ess than an hour.”
“Good.” Nalani released her hands. “Let’s go back.”
“Right away.” Sapnara busied herself with her codex, which she wore as a hefty silver-and-turquoise pendant. The dome all around them darkened, room lights brightening as the view became opaque.
The dome, a good twenty meters across, enclosed a largely-empty space ringed by comfortable couches. Al-Ghazali sat straight-backed on one; Nalani settled next to her. “She’s good.”
Al-Ghazali nodded. “I hope I can be as competent as her, when I reach her level.”
“I’ve always thought Judge and Superior Judge were the hardest levels. You have all the weight of precedent and tradition, you’re afraid to do anything without checking the records.” Nalani shook her head and leaned toward Al-Ghazali. In a whisper, she said, “I expect you’ll be twice the Judge she is.”
“Thank you, Thurgood.”
“Now let’s look at where we stand.” Her codex opened virtual documents before them, arranged so Al-Ghazali and her codex shared them. “Besides Ocampo, the senior Judiciars on-plane are Justice Li Kui VII with BD-IOC and Justice Hanbal V with Canas.”
Al-Ghazali frowned. “I still have trouble remembering to use conglomerate names instead of lineages.”
“Especially when they’re equivalent, I know. It’s the biggest annoyance in dealing with the Fourth Plane.” Nalani tapped her arm cuff. “My codex has a translation routine that helps keep me straight; I’ll copy it to you.”
“Thank you. I interrupted you, go on.”
“Li Kui and Hanbal have agreed to assist us. Both are gathering information on Ocampo’s operations.” Nalani drummed her fingers against her codex. “I’ve lined up what military support I can on the plane, but it’s nowhere near what we’ll need if Ocampo wants to resist.”
“You called for more from the First Plane, right?”
“I did.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t like it. Military force always complicates things. It’s always better to avoid it whenever you can.”
“How?”
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