The Rule of Five_Year One

by Melissa Scott

  “We’re getting a new data engineer,” Derrian said.

  “Well, we need one.” Morcant took a careful swig of her tea, found it hot and citrus-sharp, and took a deeper swallow.

  “Yes, I know that. But I wasn’t expecting one off Broad Increase.”

  Morcant lifted her eyebrows at that. “Nor was I.”

  “I’d prefer someone with a bit more—”

  Experience, he would have said, but Derrian had been a conscript himself, taken from the crew of a multi-planar nine years ago. She could see him blushing, and said, “Time in service?”

  “Well, yeah.” Derrian twisted open his own flask and drank deeply to hide his embarrassment.

  It was true, of course, that most conscripts worked on the larger FTL-ships or on the mountain-ships, where they could be kept under supervision until everyone was certain that they weren’t going to try do anything stupid. So why, Morcant wondered, had this one been assigned to the Deal, which flew with a skeleton crew under ap Farr’s captaincy and at Mac Braith Bain’s direct orders?

  “It was her idea, wasn’t it?” she said aloud, and Derrian sighed.

  “Yeah.”

  So why would ap Farr want a conscript data engineer, when there were half a hundred to choose from on Divine Mountain? There was no good answer to that question, and a certain amount of hazard in even voicing it. She shook her head. “When do we get him?”

  “Any time now,” Derrian said. His head lifted. “In fact—I bet that’s him now.”

  Morcant followed his gaze across the brightly-lit lock, to see a dark man in a loose white tunic standing at the entrance to the lock. One of Divine Mountain’s security guards stood beside him, and as she watched, he pointed to the Deal. “I guess you’re right,” she said, and kicked the catch that let the steps unroll clattering to the lock’s decking.

  The stranger walked toward them, a carryall slung over his shoulder, thin face upturned to examine what he could see of the Deal. He was good-looking, Morcant thought, dark gold skin and untidy dark hair and enormous brown eyes that had probably been nearsighted at birth. At the moment, they were alertly focused, eyebrows drawn down in a faint frown.

  “Last Fair Deal?” he asked, and Morcant nodded.

  “That’s us.”

  The well-shaped mouth twisted. “Llian ap Farr sent me as crew. AA Imric bin Marrick Roeland Saxing.”

  “JU Morcant Deryevna Vetrys Sanrosa. I go by Morcant Vetrys.”

  “Derrian Hina.” Derrian offered his hand and Imric reached up to take it. “DI Derrian Hanneschild Pim Hina.”

  “Imric bin Marrick.” He took her hand as well, his fingers cold. “I was told you were short a data engineer.”

  “That’s right.” Morcant hauled herself to her feet. “Why don’t you come aboard?”

  She led him down the Deal’s central corridor, pointing out the cargo locks and the escape capsules, palmed the lock plates to let them into the commons. Derrian had been working at one of the long tables, and a resonator crystal hung suspended in its half-finished cage, dull and milky without its power source. She saw bin Marrick’s eyes cut that way, and then he looked resolutely aside.

  “Llian said to get him set up,” Derrian said, and Morcant nodded.

  “Cabins are forward. We’ve got a couple empty.”

  Behind bin Marrick’s back, Derrian held up his hand, palm out, tipping his head in question, and Morcant scowled at him. She wasn’t about to give a stranger run of her ship until Llian ap Farr herself said so. Derrian mimed an elaborate shrug, but Morcant ignored him, palming open the doors of each of the two unoccupied cabins.

  “These are designed for crew, and are pretty much identical. There’s one more, down the side corridor, but it’s got passenger specs, so you won’t have access.” And I’m not installing extras, her stare was meant to convey.

  Bin Marrick seemed to get the message, and shrugged one shoulder. “Asymmetric power?”

  “Slightly right-handed,” Derrian answered. “Only about a tenth over.”

  “Still.” Bin Marrick let the bag slide from his shoulder. “I’ll take starboard, then.”

  Morcant nodded. “All yours. Do you want to see the rest of the ship, or grab the night-meal first?”

  “I could certainly eat,” bin Marrick said. “What clock do you keep?”

  “Blue.”

  He gave a sigh of relief. “I’ve been on Purple.”

  “Not a bad transition, then.” Morcant kept her voice light. “Get yourself settled, and come on back to the commons. We serve family style, it’s cheaper. Any allergies? Absolute negatives?”

  Bin Marrick shook his head. “I’m an easy keeper.”

  There was always something, Morcant thought, but she thought that he wouldn’t make a fuss on his first night aboard. “Right. See you in a few.”

  The commons seemed large and empty, and she waved a hand to increase the light level. It was her night to handle meal prep, and she turned her attention to the prep station, summoning the menu and adjusting it to account for an extra portion. She added one for ap Farr as well, though there was never any telling if she’d join them until she was there, and the system responded with a set of instructions. Like most ofDivine Mountain’s small-ships, they ran on pre-pack rations, though ap Farr made sure they got primarily mid- and top-quality stores. Morcant had grown up on cheap vat-made, one step above the kibble that they kept for emergencies, and had no complaints.

  “Easy keeper,” Derrian said. “I wonder how easy?”

  Morcant slanted a glance at him. “Let the man settle, Derri.”

  “You can’t deny he’s good-looking.”

  That was true enough, and if he was as decent a data engineer as well… Morcant allowed herself a sigh. It was easier, on the small ships, to build intimacy into a crew, whether as lovers or as quasi-family; she preferred lovers, herself, but that was a Second Plane custom. “We don’t even know where he’s from.”

  “He’s here now,” Derrian said, with a cocky smile, and Morcant shook her head.

  “Whatever he says, we have to work with him. Remember that.” She busied herself at the console without waiting for an answer, collecting protein and veg and sauce and feeding them into the cooker. The computer suggested flatbread for the starch, and she found the envelopes stacked behind the more expensive mini-loaves, passed them through the system to revive them. By then, Derrian had finished whatever he was doing with the resonator, and set the steaming rounds at the four sides of the table they reserved for eating. He produced a carafe of tea as well, and bin Marrick came warily to join them as Morcant pulled the bowls of stew from the cooker.

  “Someone’s joining us?” he asked, and before Morcant could answer, a chime sounded from the hatch.

  Derrian glanced quickly at the control cuff on his right wrist, and visibly relaxed. “Our capa.”

  Bin Marrick looked wary at that. And well he might, Morcant thought, settling herself at the table. She was a little wary herself.

  The door to the commons slid back, and Llian ap Farr stepped through, her carved black cane tapping on the deck. “Sens.”

  “Capa,” Derrian replied, and Morcant gave a nod.

  “I see I’m in time.” Llian took her place at the table, attaching her cane to the side of her chair with a click that spoke of custom magnets, if not more complicated internal works. ”I hope you’re settling in, Sen bin Marrick.”

  “Everyone’s been very kind,” bin Marrick said, in what Morcant thought was a deliberately colorless voice.

  A smile flickered across Llian’s lips. “I’m glad to hear it.” She accepted a glass from Derrian, and leaned back in her chair. “I won’t keep you in suspense. We’ll be leavingDivine Mountain as soon as the rest of my cargo is aboard.”

  Something flickered in bin Marrick’s eyes, but he said nothing. Morcant counted to five, and said, “Do we have a destination in mind?”

  “I’ll inform you once we undock,” Llian answered placidly,
and reached for the carafe to top up her glass.

  Morcant glared at her. “That doesn’t give our new DE much chance to learn the systems.”

  “I’m sure he’ll do fine.”

  “It also doesn’t give us much chance to get used to each other,” Morcant said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Derrian make a warning gesture, but ignored him. “You want us to fly short-handed, you’re going to have to give us time to learn how each other think.”

  “You’ll have the flight,” ap Farr said.

  “I think I can pick up the systems pretty quickly,” bin Marrick began, but Morcant ignored him.

  “In the real world, we’d get a solid month. And twice the crew.”

  “Enough.” ap Farr didn’t raise her voice, but Morcant stopped, flinching.

  “We can handle it,” Derrian said. “No worries.”

  This time it was ap Farr who ignored him, her pale eyes fixed on Morcant. “If you don’t think you can do the job, Sen Vetrys, I can put you back where I found you.”

  Morcant froze. “No,” she said, stiff-lipped. “We’ll manage.”

  “I’m sure you will,” said Llian ap Farr, with a smile, and turned her attention to her meal.

  “Do you know,” Sanrosa said, conversationally, “I think we might be better off going out the garden entrance.”

  She rose, slinging her carryall over one shoulder, and Val copied her. “I didn’t know there was one.”

  “Not… officially,” Sanrosa answered, weaving her way through the maze of tables. Val followed, less sure-footed in the dim light, and Sanrosa gave him a smile over her shoulder. “But Dumazhi knows me.”

  She spoke to a young woman who stood beside a pair of rainbow doors. Her voice was too soft for Val to understand, but the young woman nodded and pushed open the closer of the two doors. Sanrosa stepped through, beckoning for Val to follow, and he emerged into thick twilight, the first tendrils of fog coiling in the corners of the garden.

  “With luck, our man will think we’ve just taken a quick look,” Sanrosa said. “The garden’s somewhat famous here. And even if he does follow, Allessa won’t let him through right away.”

  She was walking as she spoke, striding away down a stone-covered path that ran diagonally across the garden. Val followed, feet scuffing on the pebbled path, dew-heavy stalks brushing against his ankles. He couldn’t help a glance back, but the colored glass showed only indistinct shadows.

  “Here,” Sanrosa said, and laid her left hand flat on one of the bricks that made up the garden wall. It seemed, Val thought, a hair darker than the others around it, and then there was a heavy click, and a section of wall sagged forward. Sanrosa gave a satisfied smile and tugged it open, motioning Val to precede her. “Go on, I have to lock it.”

  He stepped through into one of the University alleys, this one deep in the shadow of a parasol-tree. Fog curled along the base of the garden wall, and along the base of the blank wall that formed the other side of the alley, showing yellow where the lights from the main street touched it. The air was damp and growing rapidly chill. He heard the lock click shut behind him, and Sanrosa tapped his shoulder, turning him away from the main street and toward the narrower exit at the back of the alley. He balked—what, after all, did he know about her?—but then shook himself back to reality. There were too many reasonable, real-world connections for him to start doubting her now.

  She glanced over her shoulder as though she’d read the thought. “This is a short-cut into the University grounds. We’ll go in by the Themis Gate. Then we’ll go by my flat. I believe I have downloads of several of the texts that I’d be glad to share with you. As well as the list itself, of course. And after that, I’ll see you out by Sanxing, it’s closest to the tubes.”

  “I’m grateful,” Val said. They had emerged into a narrow street of closed shopfronts. Lights showed only on the upper floors, dimmed with fog, and ahead loomed a woven iron structure that resolved itself into a fence of iron standards topped with idealized trees woven together at top and bottom with twisted curves of metal that were almost branches. The fog was getting thicker, and it took a moment to find the gate. But then a light came on beside a narrow kiosk, and Sanrosa quickened her step.

  “Evening, Tomas,” she said, holding out her hand. “Myself and one guest.”

  “Certainly, Professor,” the guard answered. Val held out his own identification to be scanned, and the gate creaked open. As far as he could tell, the street was empty around them. Maybe, just maybe, he’d shaken his pursuers at last. Beyond the fence, there were fewer lights, and quite a lot of grass and shrubbery, fog crawling over the damp ground. Overhead, the sky was the color of pewter.

  “This way,” Sanrosa said, and Val trailed obediently after her, following a path that wound between banks of greenery. There didn’t seem to be any vehicular traffic on the University grounds, and he guessed that there were either underground transport tubes or some sort of perimeter system. Then there was a soft hiss behind them, growing louder, and a voice called, “On your left!” Sanrosa obediently faded to the right, and a three-wheeled platform shot past them, two gowned students clinging to the controls. Sanrosa muttered something under her breath, but kept walking.

  They left the park behind, and passed through a series of paved courtyards that surrounded buildings shaped like Platonic solids. Lights glowed beneath their outer surfaces, revealing subtle colors and veining like shadows—Arbellaster marble, Sanrosa said, when she saw where he was looking. These were the main University buildings, she explained, connected by an enormous underground network like the roots of a giant tree. She stopped them, frowning up at the windows dotting one face of the octahedron.

  “Sen?” Val began, and she shook her head.

  “I thought there was a light on in my office, but—there couldn’t be. Come along.”

  She led him past two more clusters of buildings, and then unlocked another gate to let them into a pleasant courtyard. A fountain played in the center, the plumes lit from below so that it seemed as though drops and shards of light fell instead of water. Val stared, impressed in spite of himself, but Sanrosa ignored it, angling across the square toward one of the entrance stairs. Lights showed in the windows above it, a welcoming glow that abruptly vanished from two of the squares. Val hesitated, remembering what she had said before.

  “Uh, sen? Which room is yours?”

  She gave him a sharp look, but her steps slowed. “The second floor—the dark windows.”

  “They were lit a minute ago,” Val said.

  “Nonsense.”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “Impossible,” Sanrosa said, but her tone was less certain than her words.

  “I don’t think you should go in,” Val said. “Sen, I’m very sorry, I seem to have gotten you tangled up in my troubles—“

  “Nonsense,” she said again, and started for the door.

  Val followed, not quite daring to grab her shoulder. “At least be careful.”

  “Hush.”

  There was no visible lift; instead Sanrosa palmed open an unobtrusive door and started up the stairs. At the top, she paused, frowning, then eased the door open just far enough to see through the gap. Val craned his head, but couldn’t see anything more than a carpeted hall and a uniformed man standing by one of the doors. Sanrosa eased the door shut, and caught his sleeve.

  “This way. Hurry.”

  “What?” Val followed, moving as quickly as he could. Sanrosa ignored the first floor, leading him down another flight of stairs and into what seemed to be a service tunnel that ran beneath the building.

  “It won’t help for long,” she said, “but they shouldn’t expect it.”

  “What was that? What did you see?”

  “Campus police at my door, where they have no business being—and I’ve had quite enough of law enforcement and the judiciary lately.” She gave him a sideways glance. “I was just exonerated in a case of plagiarism, you see.”

 
Plagiarism was one of the crimes the Fifth Plane took very seriously. Val felt his eyebrows rise.

  “It was a mistake,” Sanrosa said irritably. “The Judiciary acknowledged that. I have the documents to prove it. But it was not particularly pleasant.” She stopped at another door, but it failed to respond to her touch; she scowled at it and marched on, perhaps twice the width of one of the residential courtyards, before trying another door. This one did open, and she urged Val ahead of her. “We need to get you out of the University, then I can deal with these people. And I should be preparing for my own trip, I need to join Taheris on Anaparra by the end of the month—“

  Val did as he was told, not really listening to her complaints. He emerged into a space between buildings, roofed with vines that had left a carpet of leaves over the paving. Sanrosa locked the door behind them, but before she could say anything, a chime sounded inside the carryall she had slung over one shoulder.

  “Oh, what now?” she said irritably, fishing in the depths until she came up with the databoard. A light flashed beneath its surface, and her frown deepened as she read the scrolling text. “For physics’ sake—“

  “The Judiciary are looking for you,” Val said, and she looked up sharply.

  “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t. It was a guess. But everything else has been going wrong.”

  “And the Chairman wants me to talk to them.” Sanrosa considered for a moment, then drew glyphs across the screen, muting sound and banishing the light. “That won’t hold them long, but that should give us time to get you out of here.”

  “And what’s going to happen to you?” Val asked. Sanrosa didn’t answer at once, but as they made their way toward an elevated walkway, she gave him a rueful glance.