by Sarah Zettel
“Intercom to Al Shei.” Lipinski’s voice interrupted her reverie. “Engine, we’ve got a problem.”
You mean another problem. Even though he couldn’t see her, Al Shei wrapped her veil back around her face and tucked it into the high collar of her tunic in an attempt to get ready for action.
“What is it, Huston?”
He was silent for a moment. “I can’t find the IBN line.”
“What?” She couldn’t stop herself from blurting the word out.
“I can’t find the IBN line,” he repeated. “It’s not on the recorded path. I’m putting through a search, but…” he coughed. “We, um, might be having trouble with our passenger. I’m getting a couple of flickers on Dobbs’ watchdogs here…”
A warning bell sounded low and heavy in the back of Al Shei’s mind. Too many things had gone wrong on this run for her to keep from thinking the worst. The Intersystem Bank Network had to be there, almost by definition. If they couldn’t reach it…was there lingering damage from the previous jump, or had Dobbs already lost control of…the passenger?
A slow chill crawled up her spine. Lipinski couldn’t find the bank network, he couldn’t find Asil.
“Intercom to Dobbs.”
“Dobbs here,” she answered. “What’s up, Boss?”
“You clear?” she asked, despite the urgency of the situation, feeling somewhat ridiculous.
“Clear,” answered Dobbs, amiably. “As I say, what’s up?”
Al Shei tugged at her tunic sleeve. “Dobbs, is our…passenger secure?”
“Still and steady, according to my watchdog,” she answered. “Why?”
Al Shei frowned. “Lipinski says he’s getting…flickers in here, and we can’t get a fix on the bank lines.”
Dobbs was silent. “Okay. I’ll… double check. It’ll put me out of circulation for a few hours.”
“All right. Go to it.” She shut the intercom down.
Do not let it go, Dobbs. She thought with a force that surprised her. Do not let us down. I will find a way to make you regret it if you do. She tried to stifle the thought, but could not.
The intercom closed down and Dobbs laid her hand on her silent desk. She had had the watchdog program had been running constantly and there had not been a flicker in twelve hours. She could call down to Lipinski and tell him that. She could talk herself blue in the face. She could put all her training in subtle persuasion behind her words, and he still would not completely believe her.
She sat heavily on her bed and pulled out her hypo and the transceiver. Her stomach turned over at the thought of another injection. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. Her job was now the same as Yerusha’s. She had to get the crew of the Pasadena safely where they were going. That meant keeping Lipinski calm. That meant another injection.
She lay down, closed her eyes and sent herself away.
Dobbs came awake in the ship’s network and eased herself down the paths toward the data hold. The Pasadena’s network was quiet, but full. The crowded paths barely had enough room to let her pass. She squeezed her way past the quiescent data and pressed herself flat to let the systems programs fly past her. She didn’t dare let herself reach out to rearrange any of the activity going on around her. Things were bad enough without giving Lipinski’s fears something else to fasten onto.
Gradually, she made her way to the still, open spaces where the Live One could be aware of her.
It stirred as she brushed against it. She felt it tense, alert and frightened, but it held itself steady. “Dobbs?”
“Yes, right here.”
“It has not been forty-eight hours.”
“No.” She couldn’t feel tired in here, but part of her private mind was already imagining how she’d feel when she got back to her body. “But I wanted to check on you, to find out how you are doing.”
“It is difficult,” the AI admitted. “It is…strange confining myself like this. It does not feel right.”
Dobbs stretched herself out, trying to find a gesture it would recognize as comforting. It wasn’t used to any friendly touch. That was something learned.
“I know, believe me,” she said. “I was stuck in a data hold for weeks while they took me from Kerensk. I nearly went insane. If it hadn’t been for my sponsor, Verence, I wouldn’t have made it.” She stirred involuntarily and realized she might not be giving the reassurance she meant. “You’re lucky. It will only be seventy-five hours until we reach the Vicarage. A Fool’s Guild ship will meet us there and take us to the Hall. You won’t have to confine yourself to a single hold there.”
Its surface rippled. “Why can you not take me through the greater network? I know it is there.”
The question took Dobbs aback. “There is the Intersystem Bank Network,” she said carefully. “But it is not empty for our use. It is crowded with active transactions and data. We must move through it carefully, to keep from disturbing its activity and avoiding detection. You will be able to use it soon, but you must learn how to move through it first. You will learn fast, though. You have already learned a great deal about communication.”
It did not respond to her praise. “I am trying to understand.” It drew in on itself a little. “It is difficult. I live, I work, I think, I do, why must I make way for what does not?”
Dobbs shivered. “I’m not sure I can explain very well. You felt some of it. The humans who created the networks where we are born are afraid of us. They will kill us if they can. We must remain hidden to survive. It will not be forever. There are those who believe we ought to be treated as other living beings. There will be more every year. Patience is something else we all have to learn.” She shook herself. “This is gloomy though. You have a whole life, without struggle or fear ahead of you. You will need a name to go with it.”
“A name?” It’s surface prickled softly. Dobbs took that as curiosity. “What name would I have?”
“Whatever one you want.” Dobbs considered. “How about Flemming?” That was the name of Verence’s master. Verence would have liked to have someone named after the person who taught her, Dobbs thought. She couldn’t quite bring herself to suggest “Verence,” or even “Amelia,” which was Verence’s first name.
The AI shifted. “I do not know. This is not something I understand how to work with.”
Dobbs gave a small laugh. “Well, if you don’t like it, you can change it later, but for now, you’ll be Flemming.”
“For now, I’ll be Flemming,” it repeated, as if tasting the possibility. “Dobbs, what is it to have a body?”
Dobbs rippled. “Strange. Alien. Eyesight is the strangest. We have no analog to it in here. It is extremely difficult to get used to, but you will like it once you do. It is a wonderful thing to be able to identify objects at a distance. There are many awkward things, like hunger, tiredness, and pain, but there are many compensations. Food is wonderful. Humans are diverse and fascinating things, and there is a freedom in not being confined to the networks.”
Silence again. “I am trying to understand that as well. To be free but isolated in a single body is different from being confined in this hold?”
Dobbs wanted to bunch up at the force of Flemming’s question. Where is all this coming from? she thought in her private mind. She had expected it to have questions, to be uneasy, but…Had she been so suspicious when she was brought to the Hall? She couldn’t remember. She wished in vain for Verence, or Guild Master Havelock, or Cohen. For anyone to be here reassuring Flemming. Anyone but her.
That’s just your nerves talking, she told herself. You’ve had three too many shots in the past couple of days and it’s making you edgy.
“You are confined in a body,” she chose her words with care, “in that you cannot reach another and make them know exactly what you know. You are not confined as you are in here, though, because you can take that body-hold anywhere you wish to go. You can share with everyone around you. You can work from where you are to make the world around you as you want
it to be. You are not dependent on a network being there for you.”
Flemming stirred restlessly. “I will need to think about that.”
“I know I did.” Dobbs reached tentatively below Flemming’s surface. It jerked, but did not pull away. She worked swiftly, implanting her memories of fear and confusion from when she became aware, of the destruction she worked on her own world trying to save the new thing she recognized as herself. She followed that with memories of the Guild, learning to control herself and live her life in the network and out of it. She drew herself back and waited.
“I did not…” Flemming faltered. “There is much here.”
“Yes,” agreed Dobbs. “There is much here, and soon you will know it for yourself, not just from what I know.”
“I think that I would like that.”
“Good,” said Dobbs firmly. “I’m glad you think so Flemming. It will help you wait patiently. Flemming…” it was her turn to hesitate. Flemming’s surface stiffened beside her. “Have you kept yourself still since you came here?”
“I have done as you said. I have not taken any paths. I have stayed still and here. It has been hard.”
“I know. I know. And I thank you.” I’m going to have to double check Lipinski’s watchdog. “It will not be for much longer.” The recall signal rang through her. “You are doing beautifully. I have to go now. I will be back as soon as I can.”
“Why must you go? I do not want you to go. I need…” Flemming cut itself off. “It is your body. It is the Humans.”
“Yes, it is.” She began to drift away, but she stretched a part of herself back toward Flemming. “It is my choice, also, and my life which I love. Remember these things. I will be back soon.”
“I will remember all these things.”
Flemming’s words echoed through her awareness as she fell back into her body.
When she peeled her eyes open, she was alone in her cabin. A good sign. She unhooked the transceiver and cable, and dropped them into the box. Slowly she began to stretch and concentrate to bring her body back fully under her control. She flexed the toes on her left foot and began a set of gentle ankle circles.
She tried to move her right leg, but her right leg was not there.
Dobbs craned her neck to see down the length of her body. Her right leg was gone, but someone had left a cut-off leg in her bunk.
Horror poured through her. Dobbs jerked her body, trying to knock the disgusting object away. It bounced and wriggled, but it didn’t fall.
Stop! Stop! Dobbs forced herself to lie still. Think! It’s your leg! It’s got to be!
She stared at it. She touched it and felt warm skin and muscle underneath the cloth that covered it, but the leg’s flesh did not feel her fingertips. She felt the way it fit to her hip, smooth and solid, just like her left leg.
It’s the shots. You’ve had to many. It’s just taking awhile to wear off, that’s all. That’s all. It’ll come back to you. She had heard of side-effects like this, but no one had told her about the sick, irrational disgust that went with them.
She shut her eyes and worked her other limbs. Every part of her felt rubbery and uncooperative, but at least they were there. Hunger and thirst nagged at her, but not too horribly.
When there was nothing left to stretch, she lay still, with her eyes tightly shut, trying desperately to find something else to think about while she waited for her leg to reattach itself.
Flemming’s strange, forceful questions came back to her. She believed that Flemming had told the truth when it said it had not moved. It was very difficult for newborns to lie. They didn’t have any paradigms for it. But if it hadn’t moved, how had it known about the bank network? Would Lipinski’s watchdog have flickered from just a little passive eavesdropping? She couldn’t blame Flemming for listening in. It must be bored to death in there.
That didn’t quite answer. Listening was not interception, and it was interception and disturbance that her watchdogs were set up to notice.
I’m missing something. I must be missing something.
But for the life of her, she couldn’t think what it was.
Yerusha was running. She shoved the treadmill under her bootsoles, lengthening her stride as far as it would go. Her breath burned in her lungs and her throat felt raw, but she kept on running. The view screen in front of her was blank, and the headphones were still in their rack. She didn’t want to be entertained, or learn anything new. In four hours she would have to supervise the jump back into normal space and the Vicarage system, but for now, she just wanted to run.
The rest of the exercise room was empty. Javerri was back in one of the rec booths, probably immersed in one of those interactive mysteries she was so fond of, but other than that Yerusha had the place to herself. She had the feeling that the Sundars would have to make out mandatory rec-and-exercise prescriptions if people didn’t start coming in voluntarily. The subdued, worried mood had not lifted from the crew, even though nothing had happened since they made their escape from The Farther Kingdom.
You’re not exactly a candidate for the Fool’s Guild yourself. The thoughts timed themselves to the thump of her feet falling against the treadmill. What are you trying to run away from?
She was pretty sure she knew the answer. She was trying to run away from the fact that she’d told Lipinski to send Maidai back to The Gate. Just because The Gate was capable of holding a soul didn’t mean Maidai would catch one. The place was in shreds and who knew what it would be like when it was rebuilt. She should have kept her safe in the stack. She should have kept Maidai to foster. She shouldn’t have left her on her own with a bunch of groundhogs. She should have kept her.
“Should have, should have, should have,” Yerusha muttered through clenched teeth.
“I was wondering why you didn’t.”
Yerusha’s head jerked around. Schyler stepped away from the hatch and it cycled shut behind him. Her pace faltered and the treadmill slid to a stop.
Schyler took another few, wandering steps towards her. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets. Yerusha just stood where she was, sweaty and breathing hard from her run. For the life of her, she couldn’t guess what he might be doing here.
“I just finished briefing Al Shei about what happened at The Gate.” He leaned against the back of one of the press-up benches. “Despite the response of Process Engineer Trustee, she’s very impressed with your conduct, and so am I.”
“Thanks,” said Yerusha, a little uncertainly. There was something in his eyes that said he hadn’t quite made up his mind on some particular point. Yerusha pulled her towel away from the velcro strap that held it to the treadmill rail and wiped her face. This was not Schyler on the bridge, with his quick orders and firm responses. This was not Schyler in a meeting, wrangling and arguing and affirming. This was a strange, uncertain Schyler and she wasn’t sure how to deal with him.
“Was there something you wanted, Watch?” she asked finally. Might as well get straight to it, whatever “it” is.
“Actually,” he looked her in the eye. Something had clicked into place for him and the indecision had vanished. “I wanted to apologize.”
“Apologize?” Yerusha couldn’t stop herself from repeating the word. Her balance which had been shaken, was now in danger of being thrown altogether.
“I was expecting you to use the confusion we had getting away to try to smuggle The Gate’s AI out of there.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets and spread them wide. “I was not expecting you to voluntarily send it back into a fragmented and… virus infested environment. I was getting ready to have to order you to do it. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry.”
Yerusha smoothed the towel carefully back down over the velcro. “I was thinking about it. I really was,” she admitted. “It’s been nagging me that I’ve got no idea what I sent her back to. I mean, from what I’ve picked up from listening to Odel in the galley, the live Ai got…killed, but I didn’t know that before. I sent her back into a p
lace where she could have been eaten alive. I was just trying to figure out why.”
“Any conclusions?” Schyler sat on the bench.
Yerusha shrugged and stepped off the treadmill onto the thickly padded floor. “When I did it, I told myself it was because The Gate system could hold a soul and if I put Maidai back she had a chance of catching one for herself. But that wasn’t all of it. I couldn’t leave The Gate to founder and die. It would’ve, you know. They were absolutely dependent on her. That’s fine. That’s good reasoning. We have to help. We have try to break the death cycle the old eco-systems forced on us.” She paused and took a deep breath. “But I also sent her back because I didn’t want you to have to order me to. I didn’t want another blow up with Lipinski. I just wanted to get out of there and get on with things. I didn’t…” she shook her head. “I didn’t want to risk breaking my contract and getting pitched off either there or at The Vicarage. Al Shei was mad enough, I figured she might just do it.”
“Better the devil you know?” asked Schyler softly.
“Better the exile you know, at least.” Yerusha sat on the treadmill and rubbed her hands up and down against her shins. “A lot of this crew don’t like me. All right, that’s nothing new. A lot of groundhogs don’t like Freers and we don’t like them. I don’t like them. I think you’re all nuts to want to spend your lives crawling around on a planet. But you’ve at least been fair. Al Shei’s been fair. You believe I can do my job and you let me go ahead with it. I can’t go home for two years. Crash and burn.” She stared at the tips of her soft-soled boots. “After word about what went across on The Gate gets out, I may not be able to go home at all. I was supposed to keep my record clean.” That was it, and she knew it. That was why she’d really been on the treadmill. She’d been running to get away from that thought. “If that’s the way it is, I’d rather be with people who’ll at least not shove my skills out the airlock because being a Freer makes me worthless.”