“Hey.”
Val jumped, leaned back to let the old man set the service in front of him. “Sorry,”’
“Thought maybe you’d changed your mind.” The old man wiped his hands on the hem of his shirt. “Condiments?”
“I’m good.”
“Pay the table when you’re done,” the old man advised, and turned away.
Val turned his attention to the tray, methodically breaking seals and peeling back lids, wincing as a puff of steam stung his thumb. It was all perfectly edible, entirely uninspiring, but he made himself eat: he couldn’t afford to waste what was left of his severance pay. And if he abandoned this room on short notice, he’d pay another surcharge —
Below him, the hooded figure returned, moving against the crowd as it passed the hostel. Was it the same? Taller? The coat might look brighter, but the streetlights were on, changing everything. The movement was the same.
This couldn’t go on. He put down the spoon and reached for his board. He had one thing that none of the others had, the name Sionek had given him on Dzamglin—Caridad Sanrosa. He touched the screen, sorting through files to find the full name—LVS Caridad kaQuin Mateus Sanrosa—and then plugged it into a search algorithm before he could change his mind. Sionek had said she was on Kauhale… The screen pulsed thoughtfully, and his hopes wavered with it. Sanrosa was an academic, she could be anywhere on the Fifth Place, or on any Plane.
The board pinged softly, and presented him with a mail screen. Apparently she was on Kauhale, and accepting contact. He blinked at it for a moment, not quite believing his eyes, then flipped the switch that projected the keyboard and began to type.
Dear Professor —
You were recommended to me by the sister of one of your students, Samil Sionek, as someone who might be able to give me solid — non-mystic — information about the so-called Fifth Ship, or at least help me find reliable literature on the question. I am currently on Kauhale, and hoped I might be able to schedule either a meeting or a data mix with you while I was here.
Thank you very much for your time and attention.
He hit sign-and-send before he could change his mind, and only then remembered that he was still listed as part of Iridium Azimuth’s crew. Well, it was too late to do anything about that. Maybe it would pique her interest, or maybe it would put her off, there was no telling, but in the meantime… His fingers slid across the board, changing channels and calling up new screens. In the meantime, he needed to ditch this room, and find a new place to sleep tonight.
Dinner with Milos' family and the Apprentices was relaxed and pleasant, simple food served by modest bots. Nalani was sorry when her codex told her it was time to meet with Topaka Phan Lo.
Leaving Milos and the children, she led the Apprentices to her chambers. Her codex told her, (“Phan Lo has arrived with assistants and barristers in tow.”)
(“Have Security escort them to conference room six, and let me know when they get there.”) She stood. “All right, let’s go the back way to room six. We’ll keep them waiting about ten minutes.”
Al-Ghazali said, “What should we do, Thurgood?”
Nalani’s eyes twinkled. “Watch and learn.”
Room six was a stark but functional space, a bare box dominated by a rectangular slab of a table and minimalist chairs. The walls are an institutional off-white. The Uenuku contingent occupied one long side of the table. Phan Lo sat in the middle, flanked three-deep by flunkies.
Nalani took a seat across from him, with Al-Ghazali on her right and Bhagwati on the left. She rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “Thank you, Sen, for coming so quickly.”
Phan Lo bowed his head. “When a Supreme Justice summons, one must obey.” He showed his teeth. “No matter the hour.”
“I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to business.” She glanced at his flunkies. “You may wish to ask your business associates to withdraw. Your barristers, of course, can remain.”
Phan Lo made a motion with his head, and the three on his left rose. Nalani smiled at them. “Security will take you to a lounge where you can wait.”
When they were gone, Phan Lo opened his hands. “Please proceed.”
Nalani leaned forward. “I’m here to offer you the chance to withdraw your suit against Professor Caridad Sanrosa.”
One grizzled eyebrow rose a fraction of a centimeter. “I suppose you’ll tell me why I should accept your offer?”
“Naturally.” She settled back in her chair. “If the suit continues, I intend to vacate the wrongful decision and dismiss the case. However, there would remain a stain on Professor Sanrosa’s record, and I’m unwilling to have that happen. If Uenuku withdraws the suit at this point, all records can be wiped clean.”
Now Phan Lo sat back, the trace of a smirk on his lips. “I can understand why the Judiciary wants to avoid publicizing the fact that such a mistake was made. Surely our news division will conduct an investigation. Ratings should be spectacular. No, I don’t think we’ll be withdrawing the suit.”
Her codex said, (“Message from Bhagwati: Nail him to the wall.”)
“I see.” Nalani nodded. “Uenuku remains committed to the sanctity of copyright. You maintain that Caridad Sanrosa stole elements from...what’s the name of your production?...Blind Justice?”
He shrugged.
“Sen Phan Lo, you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve had our people conduct our own investigation. It seems that Blind Justice borrows many elements from my own career. Your main character, Odofredus V, has a history that parallels mine. Many of the cases she handles are strikingly similar to cases I’ve been involved with.” Nalani stood. “We’ve put together a list of correspondences.”
A list appeared on the wall behind her, one item after another, unscrolling in columns until it filled the wall, then marched onto the next, and the next, until finally the whole room was encircled with thousands of entries.
Fixing Phan Lo with her gaze, Nalani said, “Now here’s the interesting point: I don’t recall ever authorizing Uenuku Productions to use these elements of my life. I don’t find any such contract on file.” She placed her hands flat on the table and leaned forward, looming over Phan Lo. “With your commitment to copyright and your determination to punish infringement...do you think I might have a case?”
The blood drained out of Phan Lo’s face. “Y-you’re a public figure.”
“Yes, one whose life story is worth quite a bit. And I, alone, own the copyright to that life story. I wonder how much your firm has made off my property.” She tossed her head. “I assume that’s for another Judiciar to decide.”
The barrister nearest Phan Lo leaned over and whispered in his ear. Phan Lo lowered his head, then looked up again. “We’ll drop the suit against Sanrosa.”
Nalani straightened up and smiled. “And I’ll continue to be flattered by Blind Justice. And grateful for the sizable ongoing donation that the production will begin making to the Judiciary Relief Fund.”
Phan Lo stood, offered his hand, which Nalani shook. He bowed. “I’m glad we were able to come to agreement. I’ll go to make the arrangements.”
Nalani returned the bow. “My pleasure. Go in justice.”
At the door, Phan Lo turned back to her. “If you ever get tired of the Judiciary, there’s a place waiting for you on my staff.”
She laughed. “If you only knew how many such offers I’ve had.”
“I’m sure.” With that, he was gone.
Zofia and Dav were yawning when Nalani arrived at Milos’s quarters. She assisted tucking them in, turned down the lights, then sat in a rocking chair between their beds. Milos retired to his workshop. “Now here’s your bedtime story,” Nalani said. “It’s a short one, because I know it’s been a big day and you two can hardly keep your eyes open as it is.”
Daw yawned, and Zofia said, “Tell us.”
In a soft voice, Nalani said, “Once upon a time there were two girls, Nal and Jays. They came from differ
ent worlds and different Planes. Both were in a new school, far away from their homes and families. In a lot of ways there were opposites, but in many important ways they were alike. These two lonely girls became good friends. In school, they shared everything. Each made the other stronger.
”When they left school, Nal and Jays stayed in touch with one another. They helped one another when they could. And every year on a certain date, they always met or contacted each other, no matter what else was going on.
“As Nal and Jays progressed in their careers, they lived and worked on every Plane, and helped people from every Lineage. Along the way were quite a few adventures, and there were some times when they teamed up to deal with problems. Those were the times they liked best.”
Dav’s eyes were closed and his breathing slow. Through half-closed lids, Zofia looked at her and whispered, “What next?”
“Well, after a long, long time, Nal and Jays reached the very top of their profession. They’d been just about everywhere interesting. They’d done just about everything there was to do. They were tired, and wanted to settle somewhere nice and rest for a while.
”Nal was the first to retire. She found a wonderful house near a beautiful pond, with plenty of friendly neighbors and lots to keep her busy. After a few years Jays settled not far away, in her own wonderful house next to a mountain stream, with lots of flowers and a place where she could spend long, lazy hours fishing.
“The older you get, the quicker time passes. Nal and Jays were both very old, and sometimes weeks and months flew by so fast they hardly noticed. They saw one another whenever they could, and still every year they got together on that special date.
”Until one year the special date came around, and Jays didn’t come. She didn’t call. No message came from her, not that day and not the next, not that month, not for the rest of the year.
“Nal tried everything she could to find her friend. She went to Jays’s house, she asked all of Jays’s neighbors, she called on all her neighbors and all the friends she had. There was no trace of Jays...not on that world, not on the whole Plane.”
Both children were now sound asleep. Nalani rocked and whispered, “So Nal did the only thing she could: she left her home and her Plane, and set out in search of Jays. No matter how hard the effort, no matter how long it took, Nal would find out what happened to her best friend....”
She sat for a moment, silently regarding the children, then stood and bade Milos good night.
1.09 Corruption
After a boisterous breakfast the next morning, Nalani and Milos, along with the children, returned to his quarters. The Apprentices were waiting outside; Dav ran to Bhagwati and demanded a piggyback ride.
Over tea in the workshop, Nalani explained to Milos the problem of corrupted codices. He listened carefully, asking intelligent questions. Meanwhile, Bhagwati became involved in an enthusiastic game of hide-and-seek with Dav and Zofia. Al-Ghazali sat in a corner pretending she was elsewhere.
The work was a constant stream of interruptions. “Daddy, look at me.” “Dav, stop that.” “Zofia, leave Bhagwati alone.” “Quiet, kids.”
After a half hour, Nalani sighed. “Milos, you’re not getting any work done. What if we send Zofia and Dav off with Bhagwati to have a fun day?” She looked at Bhagwati, who was holding a squealing Dav upside down by his ankles. “You can take them to the amusement park on Kauhale. They’ll love it.”
Milos considered, then smiled. “As long as it’s not too much trouble.”
Bhagwati grinned. “Are you kidding? We’ll have a blast.”
Nalani said, “Al-Ghazali, you can go along too. Bhagwati’s going to need your help.”
A look of panic swept across Al-Ghazali’s face. “Thurgood, I thought I could stay and help out here.”
“It’ll do you good to take some time off. Go have fun.”
(“Message from Al-Ghazali: Please don’t make me do this.”)
(“Tell Al-Ghazali that adversity builds character.”) Nalani saw Bhagwati toss Dav in the air, still upside down. He caught the laughing boy by an ankle. (“Besides, at least one adult should be there.”)
From his workbench Milos said, “Before you go, I wonder if I could ask a favor. I’d like to flash-image each of your codices. Comparing the images will help me track the corruption.”
The two Apprentices both looked at Nalani. She sighed. “Milos, that’s...something of a touchy subject. Our codices store sensitive information. Even though everything’s encrypted, the average Judiciar won’t be comfortable with such a request.” At the hint of a frown in his eyes, she added, “Personally, I trust you implicitly and have no objection. But I can’t make that decision for others.”
Milos closed his eyes for a moment. “I understand. I have access to the base AIs here and in the other four Lineages; comparing their update packages may give me what I need. Nalani, if you’ll let me image your uncorrupted codex, that will provide a baseline.”
Bhagwati lowered Dav to the floor and stepped forward, tugging a ring from his right hand. “Image my codex. It’s been corrupted; seeing that would help you, wouldn’t it?”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
Bhagwati tossed his head. “If Thurgood trusts you, that’s enough for me.” He dropped the ring in Milos’s hand; Milos set it carefully on a scan plate and tapped commands on the workbench.
Al-Ghazali shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m just not comfortable going along with this.”
Nalani slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “No reason you have to be, my dear. We each interpret our duty in our own way.”
After a minute, Milos gave Bhagwati back his ring. “Thank you. Needless to say, I’ll wipe this image as soon as I have my conclusions, and I’ll keep it in protected memory space until then.”
“I appreciate it, Sen.”
Nalani stepped back and gave a sweeping two-handed wave. “Away with you, then. Begone. Have fun.”
When they were gone, Nalani released a clasp and removed her arm cuff, holding it out to Milos. “You’ll need this.” Her arm felt light, and she was conscious of a void, a distance as with a stuffy ear.
Milos cradled it in two hands. “I feel like I’m holding a treasure of the ages. What secret knowledge is here?”
“Not as much as you think. When I retired, a good deal was offloaded. Much of it’s in permanent storage with the Judiciary AIs on the First Plane now.”
While scanning her codex, Milos looks into Nalani’s eyes. “You came out of retirement to search for your friend. What did that feel like?”
She settled onto a stool, a faraway look in her eyes. “It’s traditional for Supreme Justices to retire. We make five Grand Circuits, Fifth Plane to First; it takes the better part of a century and a half.” She looked down. “By then, we’re ready, looking forward to time without the decisions, without the responsibility. Besides, in all truth, society doesn’t need us hanging around. We’re too full of ourselves, we have too much power.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
“I liked it, Milos. I liked the peace and quiet. I liked the chance to think about doing something different.” She leaned forward. “Do you know, I was planning to write a book?”
“What about?”
“There’s a world on the Third Plane that was settled over a thousand years ago when a ship went off course in the Snaketail Rimple. The world was forgotten, out of contact until an exploration team found them about thirty years ago. Their society was strange as can be.” She shrugged. “We had to interdict travel, just to preserve them. The anthropologists are still debating what to do.”
“You said ’we’ interdicted travel. You and your friend?”
Nalani nodded. “Me and Jays. We defied half a dozen corporations, five settler worlds, and two Lineages. But our decision stood.”
He picked up her codex and handed it back to her. “So you had to give up your book. That’s a shame.”
>
She clasped the cuff back in place, tingling at the electric contact and the sensation of full hearing restored. “It can wait. I’ll get back to it. Once I find Jays, all will be well.”
“I hope so.”
She patted his hand. “You have what you need. If I stay, we’re going to gossip and you won’t get any work done.”
“Well...I suppose you’re not wrong.”
“Let me know when you need a break. The cafeteria here isn’t the buffet on Iridium Azimuth, but they can do a tolerable lunch.”
Nalani caught up to Caridad Sanrosa in the departure lounge. She bowed and took a seat next to Sanrosa.
“I’m glad I got to see you before you left, Sen,” she said. “On behalf of the entire Judiciary, I want to apologize for this whole mess.”
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.”
The Rule of Five_Year One Page 11
