Five Planes

by Melissa Scott

  “I’m pleased to hear that.” (“What’s this about? He’s not in charge of Judicial Seat, is he?”)

  (“Not officially. The scuttlebutt from other codices says he gives orders, and since he’s ranking Judiciar, nobody contradicts him.”)

  (“I want to know why he hasn’t moved on.”)

  (“All I have is contradictory rumors. I suggest you ask him.”)

  She pursed her lips. “I haven’t been on Fourth for almost twenty years. Apparently the situation has grown more complicated. Perhaps you’d share some context with us?”

  Ocampo stroked his beard. “In the time I’ve been here, the five conglomerates have gotten increasingly more rigid and unwilling to compromise. Relations with the Judiciary have become strained. At times, there’s open defiance. They’ve all strengthened their military divisions, independent of forces under Judiciary control.”

  “I’m astonished. It sounds like a brewing crisis.”

  He nodded slowly. “That’s why I’ve extended my tour on this Plane. I’m not sure how much I’ve been able to help, though.”

  (“Nalani, I’m cramming histories. Nothing conclusive yet—but be conscious that he might be distorting cause-and-effect.”)

  (“You mean the defiance and military buildup might be a result of his extended presence, rather than the other way around?”)

  (”I don’t know yet.”) Her codex sounded pained. (“Possibly.”)

  (“Tell Al-Ghazali’s codex. Get it to help you.”) She gave Ocampo reassuring smile three. “I hope you’re not suggesting that I take over for you,” she said. “I have my own concerns.” Better cut short any appearance of being a threat to his power.

  “I wouldn’t presume, Thurgood. No, your concerns obviously take precedence.” He closed his eyes, reopened them. “Right now I’m worried about the fate of your ship. There are those who would love to get their hands on a multiplanar, even a damaged one.”

  Kimura’s anguished face stopped her from protesting that it wasn’t her ship in the first place. She couldn’t abandon them, not after they all worked so hard to save hundreds of lives…including her own. “What do you advise, then?”

  “Perbaikan Rock, 4-2FDP7. A large planetoid at the center of a cluster of smaller bodies. It’s not allied with any of the conglomerates. There are repair facilities that can handle a multiplanar.” He glanced at Kimura. “They’ll need someone to negotiate to keep the conglomerates off.”

  (“Blast it.”) Nalani forced her eyes away from Kimura’s face. “I’m dealing with a crisis of my own.”

  Ocampo touched his turban. “Your kidnapped Apprentice. I caught your orders to the military.” He met her eyes. “Frankly, Thurgood, I’m in a much better position to find your Bhagwati than you are. If you’ll give me all the data you have, I promise I’ll have my whole network on the lookout.”

  If he’d been building a power base on the Fourth Plane this long, it made sense he’d have the resources for a more effective search than she could mount. “That’s a generous offer. It’s of highest priority that we get him back alive.”

  “Of course.” Ocampo stood, drawing everyone else to their feet. He took Kimura’s elbow, steering her to the door. “Come, Captain. I’ll put your crew in touch with Perbaikan Rock. And then,” he made a tiny bow toward Nalani, “I’ll head back to Judicial Seat to supervise the search for Apprentice Bhagwati.” Without waiting to be dismissed, he left.

  Nalani and Al-Ghazali exchanged looks, and Nalani chuckled in spite of herself. “I’m not sure what we just did.”

  Al-Ghazali smiled. “I just hope it’s the right thing.”

  “You and me both.”

  1.20 Tensions

  Imric refilled his cup from the galley’s common boiler, swirling the tea stick to release another cloud of fragrant steam. His head still ached lightly from the steady diet of stims, but that was improving now that they had engaged the autopilots and were back on a normal sleep schedule. And at least they had made it. Admittedly, ap Farr hadn’t gotten what she wanted, but Quintile Illumination was safe, and that meant Milos and the kids were safe.

  The galley and the narrow common space was empty, the lights dimmed even though it was midday by the ship’s clock. He waved a hand to wake the lights and found one of the comfortable chairs, tugged it into a corner where he could see anyone entering the area and let himself sink into the deep cushions. He hadn’t expected to see Milos again, not after he’d sent them on to Iridium Azimuth, and a part of him wondered if it wouldn’t have been easier if he hadn’t seen him. The divorce had been—well, as divorces went, it had been civilized, but there was no such thing as a good divorce, or at least he’d never met anyone who’d had one. It had hurt, leaving them, felt like they were choosing Fredi over him even though he knew rationally that this wasn’t what was happening. And to be fair, Fredi was only the last straw; Imric had been pulling away for more than a year, missing the vertical life, struggling to make a place for himself in the family business and to understand how the others expected him to fit in. It was like speaking another language, knowing that you were mispronouncing things, and no matter how hard you tried you always used the wrong word and hurt someone’s feelings, and most of all no one else seemed to make any effort to understand him….

  Except for Milos, of course. Milos had always tried. And Pai, the third wife and the family’s only lawyer, who had listened when he’d finally gotten up the nerve to say he wanted the divorce, asked good questions and told him she wished he wanted to stay, and never once reminded him that she had come from the Third Plane and was just as much a stranger here. That was still an uncomfortable memory, particularly since there was every chance she was dead; he took another sip of his cooling tea, turning his mind back to the image of Milos in the control room screens. Older, wiser, still as handsome as ever, and still as clever, still as quick to grasp the situation as find a work-around… Maybe it would have been smarter to accept his help, particularly now that ap Farr had kidnapped an apprentice judge. He’d hoped to keep Milos well clear of whatever was going on, and now he and his Supreme Justice were going to be in the middle of it. Imric had to admit he wasn’t entirely sorry to think Milos was fighting for him, even while he wished they would all stay safe.

  He looked up as the compartment door slid back and Morcant and Hina pushed in, Hina breaking off in mid-sentence as he saw Imric slouched in the corner chair. Morcant gave him a curious glance, then saw Imric herself, her mouth tightening.

  “I’ll go if you’d prefer,” Imric said, but she waved him back to his seat.

  “No, no worries. Is the boiler hot?”

  “I ran it about ten minutes ago.” Imric settled back in his chair as she switched it on again and Hina rummaged in the storage cells for caff concentrates. “Look, I can leave—”

  “No worries,” she said again, settling herself at the table. “You’re in this one, too.”

  “In—?”

  “In this mess,” Hina clarified, and set a selection of little bottles on the table. Morcant chose two and a dispenser of syrup, and began mixing some sort of elaborate caff construction. Hina poured two dubl-fortes into his cup and added water even before the heating cycle had finished. Imric winced, and saw Morcant do the same; their eyes met, and she gave him a wry smile.

  “We’re a little worried about what the capa’s going to do with the apprentice judge.”

  Hina snorted. “A little worried! A little worried is when you can’t get the field tunings just right, and it’s going to be a bumpy landing. Kidnapping a member of the Judiciary—”

  His voice was rising, and Morcant waved for him to keep his voice down. “Careful, will you? She’s sleeping.”

  “So close the door.” Hina tossed back a swallow of the bitter liquid, and Imric barely restrained a shudder.

  “I want to see who’s coming,” Morcant said patiently. The boiler signaled ready; she filled her cup and stirred, tasted, added more syrup, and stirred again.


  “Seriously, though.” Hina lowered his voice, wrapping both hands around his cup. “What’s she going to do with him?”

  “Trade him back to the Supreme Justice, I sincerely hope,” Morcant answered. “Otherwise…”

  “Otherwise we’re going to have every law enforcement group on the Plane hunting for us,” Hina said. “Systems, Corporate, Judicial Enforcement, Interstellar Advocacies—and that’s not counting private services. The Fourth Plane’s big on privates.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Morcant sipped at her drink. It was a fair pretense of calm, but Imric could see her free hand trembling slightly. Maybe that was just the stim withdrawal, but he wasn’t willing to bet on it. “Don’t worry, they can’t track us while we’re under ’drive.”

  “We can’t stay in hyperspace forever,” Hina muttered.

  “I know.”

  “Has the capa ever done anything like this before?” Imric asked, hoping to defuse the argument.

  Morcant shot him a glance that suggested she knew perfectly well what he was doing. “Like this? Like kidnapping a member of the Judiciary? I can’t think what would compare.”

  “Grabbing Broad Increase wasn’t exactly legal,” Imric answered. “But you know her better than I do.”

  For a moment, it hung in the balance, and then Morcant gave a wry smile. “She’s done some pretty wild things, I’ll admit that. Broad Increase was just in the way of business. But this—this is different.”

  “I can’t see how the hell we’re going to get out of it,” Hina said.

  “Me neither.” Morcant shook her head. “I mean, best I can see is to kill the boy and dump his body somewhere conspicuous, then get off the Fourth Plane and stay off it for a good long time.”

  “That won’t be enough,” Imric said. “They got a good look at this ship, and the Judiciary looks after its own. None of the planes will be safe, not even Second.”

  “Find somebody else to kill him,” Hina suggested. “‘Sorry, your Honor, we tried to keep him safe, but the guy just grabbed him right away from us.’”

  Imric managed not to roll his eyes, but Morcant gave Hina the glare that deserved. “Maybe she wants him for trade. To get that guy Millat.”

  “That’s still not going to stop the Judiciary,” Imric said. A tiny spark of an idea was flickering at the back of his mind. Ap Farr had gone too far this time, and if they all saw it… There was only one of her, and three of them. If they brought Bhagwati back safely, surely that would earn them a general pardon, no matter what Morcant and Hina had done. He hesitated, wondering if he should say something more, plant a seed. But no, he’d said enough for now. Let them imagine the Judiciary pursuing them from Plane to Plane, let them worry a little longer. They’d be more receptive to his idea then.

  Val made his way cautiously through the corridors of Zavod Sualti, following the glyphs that directed him toward the galley complex. The station seemed more crowded than he would have expected, with more people than he could account for as crew, and certainly more children than he was used to seeing on working stations. Maybe that was a Fourth Plane thing, but in his admittedly limited experience, the Fourth Plane was strict about separating business and family. To keep better control of both, he remembered a former captain saying, and wondered what was up with Zavod Sualti.

  And something was definitely going on. He could feel a layer of tension underlying everyone's conversation, a dozen unspoken sentences lurking between words. Oh, everyone had been perfectly nice—better than nice, downright obliging—but they hadn’t asked any hard questions about Quintile Illumination and why they didn’t want to go back there, and that in itself was suspicious. He and Caridad had tried to thrash out a suitable explanation, but they hadn’t come up with anything even remotely plausible. Finally, Caridad had waved him away, saying she was going to sleep on it. He had closed the combi door and tried to relax himself, but he had slept off the first nervous exhaustion of the escape and couldn’t seem to fall asleep again. Food or drink would only help.

  The galley area was nearly empty, the perimeter lights dimmed and the machines on standby, offering only the between-meals menu. That was more than enough for Val, and he murmured a general greeting as he threaded his way through the tables to the dispensers. Definitely more people aboard than usual, he noted: the tables and chairs took up space that had been clearly set up for recreation, the floor still showing marks where game machines had been plugged in. Still, that wasn’t his business, and he made himself focus on the menu displayed on the face of the nearest machine.

  “Try the kibble,” a voice suggested from behind him. “Unless you’re vegetarian, of course.”

  Val shook his head. There were two men behind him, both vaguely familiar, one stocky and dark-haired, the other taller and darker-skinned—the pilot who had collected the lifepod, Val remembered, but couldn’t come up with his name.

  “The system was programmed on Plaxis,” the smaller man went on, “so anything in that style it does well.”

  “Thanks.” Val pressed buttons, not quite at random—the food on Plaxis was similar to the food on a lot of worlds, oils and flatbreads and various dips and fried clusters. The machine whirred and whined, then spat a series of flat packets, two hot and two cold. The pilot offered a tray; Val took it with a smile, and did his best to hide his sudden wariness.

  “Kiet Sirisopa,” the other man said, “and this is Jamahl Wrede.”

  “I know we met,” Val said, keeping his smile fixed in place, “but I’m sorry to say I didn’t get everyone’s names.”

  “No surprise,” Jamahl said. “There’s a few of us. Mind if we join you?”

  Val shook his head, but finished dispensing a flask of cold mint tea before letting them steer him to one of the side tables. They had each grabbed a drink and a single packet of bread and cheese, and Val pushed his own food aside with a sigh.

  “Look, I don’t want to be rude, but—let’s cut to the chase. What is it you want?”

  To his surprise, Jamahl laughed, and Kiet gave a rueful smile. “Ok, I’m not the most subtle person on this rock.”

  “Not so much,” Jamahl said. He broke open his packet to reveal steaming flatbread, nodded at Val’s tray. “Don’t let us stop you, it’s nothing bad. We just wanted to talk about possible—business arrangements, I guess you’d call it.”

  “All right.” Val opened his own packets, arranged them on his tray and took a bite. “What sort of arrangement?”

  “I don’t know if you’re familiar with Fourth Plane politics at all?” Kiet asked.

  Val shook his head. “Vertical born and bred.”

  “Oh.” Val could almost see the dark-haired man rearranging whatever he had been going to say—pulling out the dummies’ version, he guessed, and hid a smile. “Right. Long story short, there’s a corporate war building, it has been for several years now, and Apex—our parent—is likely to be bought out before it starts.”

  “Most likely by a military producer,” Jamahl interjected, and Kiet nodded.

  “And we—well, the station is its own corporation, an independent subsidiary of Apex, and we are the majority owners—”

  “We don’t want to make hyperflux weapons,” Jamahl said. “They don’t, I suppose I should say, I’m the new guy—”

  “You’re one of us,” Kiet said, and put a hand on Jamahl’s arm.

  Jamahl gave him a crooked smile, but looked back at Val. “Like I said. Nobody here wants to make hyperflux weapons. So we are seriously considering just dropping out of the whole mess.”

  For a moment, Val didn’t understand, but then his eyebrows rose. “Turn the settlement into a raft. You’re serious?”

  Jamahl nodded.

  “Oh, yes,” Kiet said. “Look, it’s what we do. We make and launch hyperflux buoys. From a certain perspective, Zavod Sualti is just bigger than average buoy.”

  It was definitely possible. That’s what a transplanar raft was, a largely unsteerable object fitted with
the right equipment to let it make the Drop, and plenty of people had been desperate enough to make the trip even without fine control. Most of them survived, too.

  “Since you didn’t ask to be taken back to the multiplanar,” Jamahl said, “and you didn’t ask to be sent in-system, I’m guessing you wouldn’t mind being somewhere else either. I’m a good pilot but I don’t have the experience to make me comfortable running this Drop. You do.”

  “And Caridad and I get—what?” Val closed both hands around the flask of tea.

  “Quick passage to the Third Plane, no questions asked.” Kiet leaned forward.

  Val looked from him to Jamahl, recognizing sincerity. And who could blame them for wanting to run, if they were likely to be on the sharp end of a corporate war? It might solve his problems, too, get him out of range of whoever it was who wanted him. “I’m willing,” he said slowly, “but I can’t speak for Caridad. She had business on the Fourth Plane.” And she’s not in as much trouble as I am. He swallowed those words, and made himself meet the others’ eyes. “But, yes, I’ll do it.”

  Kiet made a pleased sound, but Jamahl just nodded. “Talk to your friend,” he said. “We’re going to need to move soon.”

  Nalani summoned a Judiciary transport to take her and her entourage to Perbaikan Rock, a trip of only a few hours. Part of her wanted to stay and watch as three immense tow-ships—each the size of a mountain—wrestled the hulk of Quintile Illumination into hyperspace…but she had too much to do. She promised herself to review videos later, knowing that she never would.

  The Perb, as everyone called Perbaikan, was big enough to be a respectable moon: a lumpy sphere roughly 750 kilometers in diameter. Space around it swarmed with smaller bodies, ships, support structures, and bots.

  The Judiciary already maintained offices and living quarters on the Perb, which saved Nalani the trouble of establishing an official presence. The lone Judiciar in residence, Superior Judge Sapnara III, was an inoffensive woman plainly awed by Nalani’s rank. Soon, she’d have to take steps to set the woman at ease.