“I don’t know. I’ve been cleared, and I have the paperwork to prove it, but I can’t say I’m eager to deal with the Judiciary again.”
“Did you say you needed to get to Anaparra?” A plan was forming in Val’s mind, something to spite these strangers who’d upended his life from the moment he set foot on Kauhale.
“I’ve agreed to join an expedition to the Fourth Plane. We’re supposed to meet on Anaparra to catch our multi-planar. Why?”
“Come with me instead.” Val lifted a hand to forestall her protest. “I’m going to take the berth on Quintile Illumination, and I’ve got the standing to bring a family member with me—as long as you don’t mind being claimed that way. People do it all the time. You get your own cabin and standard meals, not as fancy as passenger fare, but it’ll get you to Anaparra in plenty of time. And it’ll make it easier for me—they’ll be looking for one person, not two.”
For a moment, he thought she’d refuse, but instead she took a deep breath and pulled her carryall closer against her side. “I’ll need to stop at a chandler, get some clothes.”
“Plenty of time once we’re back in Startown,” Val answered, and hoped it was true.
Nalani, following venerable Judiciary practice, hosted a reception for her team at the conclusion of every case, win or lose. Since every Judiciar on the Fifth Plane felt the impact of this particular case, she opened the reception to any who cared to attend. Fortunately, Polo Halau had several enormous halls usually used only for rare conventions—for Judiciars turned out by the hundreds.
It seemed as if Nalani knew four out of five of them. All afternoon she was busy with personal greetings and reminiscences, her codex subtly feeding her pertinent details in a continuous stream.
Always, with anyone she thought could help, she asked about Supreme Justice Accursius XVII. And always, she learned nothing helpful. No one had seen her missing friend any later than Nalani had.
Afternoon turned to evening, food and intoxicants flowed steadily, and the reception began to split into discrete groups. Nalani found Milos watching a spirited multiplayer chess game, and whispered to him, “When you get a moment, could you come to my chambers?” She knew that the children were being tended by Polo Halau childcare staff.
He shrugged. “I have a moment now.” He lowered his voice. “Not the best game I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not surprised, as much as they’ve drunk.” She waved at one of the players, then took Milos’s arm and led him to her chambers. Along the way, she told her codex, (“Ask the Apprentices to meet me in my chambers.”)
(“Ask them, or tell them?”)
(“Ask.”) She smiled. (“But forcefully.”)
Bhagwati and Al-Ghazali were waiting for her. She ushered them in and gestured for them to sit around the small table. “My friends, you’ve done some fine work. Together, we saved an innocent person from a death sentence. We uncovered a major corruption in the Judiciary. And you helped me find a clue in my search for Jinan-Jorie. You have the gratitude of not only the Five Planes and the Judiciary—you have my personal thanks as well.”
She reached to her desk and retrieved an impervelope. “First, something trivial. When a case concludes, it’s my custom to give a memento to my helpers.” She handed each of them a small blue jewel in a silver setting. “It’s not much, but it comes from the heart. You can wear it anywhere you like, or stick it to the wall in your quarters, or whatever you wish.”
Al-Ghazali touched the jewel to her right earlobe, where it clung, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Nalani smiled. “Now for something more substantial.” (“Make the transfers.”) “Nothing says gratitude quite as well as money. Five thousand Judiciary credits each, to be precise. It should be in your accounts now.” At their faces, she raised a hand. “You’ve earned it. Uncovering that corruption is a bigger deal than you know.”
Milos shook his head. “But five thou—“
“Don’t argue,” Nalani said. “The Judiciary owes you a lot more.” She took a breath. “Fortunately, all the other senior Judiciars on this Plane agree. Milos, you’re now a permanent consultant; you’ll find all the details in a contract you’ll be receiving soon.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Just remember that I have first call on your services.” She turned to the Apprentices, stretched out her hands and took one of theirs in each. “My darlings, I’m so proud of you. This was a challenging case, and you both rose to the occasion.” She squeezed their hands. “You’re both being credited with ten years of service. You deserve it.”
Bhagwati’s mouth dropped open. “Ten years? For real?”
She nodded. “For real. I don’t know of any other Apprentices getting such a large bonus. You should both be very proud.” She released their hands. “Of course, this means you won’t have the opportunity to serve under Superior Justice Grotius any longer. I apologize for that.”
Al-Ghazali lifted her nose. “I think we’ll survive.”
“Good.” Nalani placed her hands flat on the table. “All right, that concludes this case. Justice be with us all.”
Milos cleared his throat. “Nalani, what are you going to do now? And what…should we do?”
She leaned back in her chair, her face serious. “I’m going to head for the Fourth Plane and continue searching for Jinan-Jorie.” She looked from one to the other. “You’re all free to make your own decisions. But I should like it if you’d consider coming with me.”
Milos was first to answer. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Bhagwati, blushing, nodded. “When do we leave?”
Nalani raised an eyebrow at Al-Ghazali, who cocked her head and said, “I assumed you’d want to leave as soon as possible, so I checked schedules. The Quintile Illumination is Dropping in six days. They’ll be boarding from Anaparra. Less than a day’s journey.” She looked down. “There’s room for all of us. Myself included.”
Nalani nodded. “Very efficient. Does that suit everyone?” Their faces told her they were all agreed. “Fine, then. Al-Ghazali, would you book us, and arrange passage to Anaparra? And Bhagwati…find out what’s fun to do there until we board.”
“Yes, Thurgood.”
She rose. “It’s been a busy day. I’m going to sleep. Will you all go back to the party and give my regards?”
The youngsters departed, and Nalani sat for a time, staring. Then she went to her quarters and fell asleep as soon as she was in bed.
1.11 Drops
Of course, with no one chasing them, it was an easy Drop from the Second Plane to the First. Last Fair Deal popped out of the Fissure within hailing distance of the outermost Ortlan Station, and Imric’s boards were filled with automated requests for ship’s papers and data transfer, plus another blast of outgoing data. Atap Farr’s snapped orders, he shut them all down, damping the ship’s response and letting the identity request bounce back as though they were only a data echo, the reflection of a ship emerging on the far side of the Spindle. Vetrys spun the Deal on her long axis and Derrian coaxed enough power from the system to allowmicrojump that took them out of range. They emerged into relative quiet, and Imric bent over his boards, establishing position, while Derrian switched to the secondary drive and Vetrys glanced warily over her shoulder to where ap Farr sat in the captain’s chair.
“Set up for the Vault?”
Ap Farr’s placid expression didn’t change. “I’m going to assume that our point of emergence was just the luck of the Drop.”
Vetrys scowled, but the frown didn’t hide her nervousness. “You know there’s no predicting where we’re going to come out. The Spindle screws everything up—”
Ap Farr waved a hand, and the pilot was instantly silenced. “Bin Marrick. Did we exchange data?”
Imric hunched his shoulders in reflex, and made himself lower them. “No. All transponders were off for the duration of the Drop. We were running passive monitors only.” And that had felt particularly st
range, using anti-pirate techniques against the First Plane worlds. “Systems were set to mirror, and as far as I can tell, that worked. We received only standard ID-and-transfer before we jumped again.”
“Were you able to pick up any of their outgoing data burst?” Ap Farr’s voice was perfectly calm.
Imric bent over his boards again, typing in the queries. Every time a ship entered a new Plane, its AI tried to exchange news and information with the nearest local source; the Deal was flying silent, but any local source would make its own broadcast automatically. “We captured about three-quarters of their stated length of transmission, maybe a little more. It’ll take me a few minutes to get it cleaned up.” You were lucky to get that much, he wanted to say. It wasn’t easy to trap the data while pretending to mirror it back at the sender, but apFarr had made it amply clear that she didn’t care about excuses.
“Inform me as soon as that’s done,” she said, and Imric hid a sigh of relief. “Very well. Vetrys, plot us a Vault to the Fifth, as soon as you can make it. By my reckoning, we have plenty of time to intercept the Quintile Illumination, but there’s no point in wasting it.”
“It will take twelve hours to recharge the capacitors,” Derrian said, and ap Farr rose gracefully to her feet.
“Yes. I’d like to Vault as soon as possible after that, please.”
It was not a request. The crew exchanged wary glances as ap Farr left the control room, and then Vetrys let out her breath with an explosive sigh.
“Vault as soon as possible, she says. It’s not like we have much control over how we leave the Fissure—”
“We’re not badly placed,” Imric said. He touched keys to project their position onto the central screen, a red dot for the ship and a jagged line like frozen lightning for the Spindle. “I don’t think we’re much more than fifteen hours out.”
“Nice work,” Derrian said, and Vetrys shrugged.
“Thanks. We got a little lucky, but the math was solid.”
The pirates had a dozen different formulae for the Drop from Second to First, Imric had discovered, most of which offered more control than any ordinary multiplanar managed. He was determined to get a look at the program before he was released—if nothing else, it would be something to trade for a berth on a better class of ship—but so far, he hadn’t had any luck hacking into that part of the system. His clearances were still restricted to what a data engineer would need, and nothing more.
“Hey, Imric,” Derrian said. “Do you know anything about this Quintile Illumination?”
Imric shook his head slowly, remembering the scene in the Deal’s commons, the main screen already showing the excited gases of the Mouth of Hell, as ap Farr calmly outlined her plans. We are Vaulting to the Fifth Plane to intercept and shadow a multiplanar called the Quintile Illumination. She is mid-rank, passengers and cargo, and I have an interest in the former. “I’ve heard the name.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching, trying to dredge up any useful bits of information. “She’s about the same size as Broad Increase, but my impression is she does more passenger business?”
“Or are you just saying that because the capa says she has an interest in the passengers?” Vetrys asked.
Imric shrugged. “Could be.” He turned his attention back to his board, typing in the commands that would tell the ship’s AI to start untangling the data torrent they’d just received. He heard Vetrys sigh again.
“OK, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I just hate not knowing what she’s up to.”
“It’s all right.” Ap Farr made him nervous, too, Imric wanted to say—scared the life out of him half the time, and the other half he couldn’t forget the polite, companionable woman he’d chatted with on Broad Increase. He would never have guessed she was one of the pirates, and the betrayal still stung unreasonably.
“She wants us to intercept the Quintile Illumination,” Derrian said. “Then shadow her through the drop. And then what, I wonder?”
“That would be the part that’s worrying me,” Vetrys said, but she had shifted to the navigation screen, was already plotting their approach to the Spindle. “It’s not like we can take down a multiplanar.”
“She wouldn’t,” Imric said, in spite of himself. “I mean, you’re right, we couldn’t. Could we?”
“I wouldn’t like to try,” Vetrys said.
It all depended on what Quintile Illumination was carrying, Imric thought, after he’d retreated to the relative privacy of his own cabin. Ap Farr had certainly proved herself capable of spectacular bluff, and if she had agents on board the other multiplanar, it might well be possible to pluck someone out of the mass of the Quintile Illumination’s passengers. In general, multiplanars weren’t equipped for a fight: vertical society did its best not to get involved in horizontal quarrels, and, equally in general, horizontal society didn’t risk a trade interdict by interfering with the ships’ free passage. Except that was already changing, with the troubles on the Second Plane. If Lasser didn’t start honoring his Letters of Passage, the other Planes were going to have to act, just to keep trade flowing, and that would be a disaster. It wouldn’t precisely be a war—there had never been a real war between Planes, and wasn’t likely to be; the physics of travel made it all but impossible—but it would be enough to ruin tens of thousands who were just hanging on to a life on the relatively protected worlds. He had seen that coming, and it was another reason he’d arranged his divorce. At least Milos and the kids had made it through: he’d been right to send them on to the Iridium Azimuth.
He stretched out cautiously on the surprisingly comfortable bunk, putting one arm over his eyes as though that could keep the ship’s AI from seeing him. He didn’t want to think about Milos and the family, couldn’t afford to let himself feel anything more than simple relief. He had gotten them onto the Iridium Azimuth and safely out of the Second Plane: that was an unmitigated good, and he wouldn’t let himself think at all about how they’d ended up as refugees. Milos was smart and hard-working and possessed of genuine sweetness: he would land on his feet. Just as Imric himself had done, more or less. There were worse places he could have ended up.
He shifted against the mattress, feeling it conform to his body. He hadn’t missed that the bunks were big enough to be comfortable for two, just as he hadn’t missed Derrian’s not-quite-invitations. Company or comfort or just plain sex, he would only have to lean a little in that direction to get it, and he couldn’t deny that he was tempted, if only because he was still afraid. But he wasn’t sure yet how Derrian and Vetrys fit together, and he wanted to be sure he could turn any relationship to his best advantage. Better to wait and see how things played out before he made any moves.
NOTICE TO ASTROGATORS 623-57
TEMPORARY FLIGHT RESTRICTION
REGION: 1.0 parsecs centered on the Fissure
BEGINNING DATE & TIME: 500/4/33 09:00:00 ORC
ENDING DATE & TIME: 500/4/33 17:00:00 ORC
REASON FOR NTA: Hyperflux experiment
All vessels traveling on the Fourth Plane are advised to keep a distance of at least 1.0 parsec from the Fissure during the period of this restriction. HEMGI/Apex Transport will be conducting experiments with a potential for major astrogational hazards for the full duration.
AUTHORITY: Korinek IX, Superior Justice
“I still can’t believe they’re letting us divert transplanar traffic this long.” Haragai floated amid his displays and boards, arms limp and face relaxed. Of course he could relax now, Kiet thought—his part was essentially over.
Sun-hwa, drifting by with bulbs of juice for the whole family, patted Haragai’s shoulder as she passed. “Sen Okubo agreed that this experiment makes us—and Apex—much more valuable. He convinced the higher-ups.”
Thanh, in lotus seat before her own single board, sighed. “Because they see military applications.”
Sun-hwa nodded. “Of course they do. How could they not?” She swept her eyes around the control chamber. “We’re going to keep them thi
nking that, aren’t we?”
Rokuro, who as Financial Officer had nothing to do but watch, grinned. “If it keeps us in business and keeps the money flowing, let them think what they want.”
Antoku, the AI, announced, “Five minutes to activation.”
Kiet nodded. “Jamahl, are you still good?”
From half a light-second away, the pilot answered, “Green and go.”
Another benefit of this project, Kiet reflected: the company hadn’t hesitated to transfer Jamahl and his six-year-old son to Zavod Sualti. And if today’s test worked, the family should have its pick of other potential refugees. Sun-hwa assured them that she could write persuasive and sincere-sounding requests for whomever they wanted.
“Four minutes.”
“Show us the realtime display,” Thanh said.
Above them, a window opened into star-spattered space, a direct view from a probe a light-second away. To the right, Zavod Sualti hung, red nav lights pulsing in synchrony allover the planetoid. To the left was a smaller rock, a pitted obloid nearly two hundred meters long. It, too, was strewn with crimson lights, pinpoints blinking in their own distinct rhythm. Jamal’s tender was barely visible, a small insect perched on the rock.
Further beyond, a handful of Company observation ships hovered, keeping the bosses at a safe distance. Far beyond that, the system’s distant sun was a tiny bright star.
In between the two space rocks…nothing. Not yet.
Over seconds, it was clear that the smaller rock was creeping toward Zavod Sualti. “If this doesn’t work,” Rokuro said, “will it collide with us?”
Sun-hwa, jaw set, shook her head. “That’s Jamahl’s job. We put enough thrusters on that thing.”
Kiet suppressed a smile. Now that they were under a military budget, Rokuro had no trouble securing equipment. Thrusters enough to steer a fifteen-million-kilogram rock were just the beginning—at 150% redundancy, plus spares for all units, multipled by five trials…they could set up thrusters to steer Zavod Sualti and still have capacity left over.
The Rule of Five_Year One Page 14
