The Rule of Five_Year One

by Melissa Scott

  Val caught himself leaning forward, and made himself relax, self-consciously sipping at the bitter wine. All he wanted was some indication that he had seen something, that he wasn’t fooling himself when he said the Fifth Ship had saved them, had led Iridium Azimuth out of danger…

  “Let us begin with that most common and most contested category of sighting, those made by trained multi-planar crew in the course of their duties.”

  An image coalesced in the display, the familiar five-tiered schematic of known space, the Fissure lancing through its layers, and dots began to appear, some brighter than others, creating a cloud that spread throughout the Planes.

  “I will begin by conceding that not all of these sightings are in fact real,” the lecturer said, “but even after one eliminates the actively fraudulent—” A set of lights winked out. “— the honestly mistaken —”Another set vanished. “— and those that can be explained by other phenomena, a significant number still remain.” A third group disappeared, leaving the Known Space Schematic filled with cloud of soft lights. There was no pattern that Val could see, just a haze that spread from the First Plane to the Fifth, and from the Fissure to the edges of the Planes. There were more than he had imagined, more than he would have thought possible, given how eager everyone was to dismiss the stories, and he shook his head. If Captain Turan had seen this, perhaps he wouldn’t be out of a job.

  The lecturer continued, setting aside more categories as not merely unproven but unprovable—encounters in which the Fifth Ship sent messages that were heard by single parties, sightings from the slow-moving, unidirectional rafts that carried sensoria insufficient to make reliable sightings at any distance—and parsing verified and verifiable sightings into smaller and smaller categories, until Val felt as though he was looking at the subject through the wrong end of a telescope. Everything that he had thought would be clearer seemed more confused than ever, until he wasn’t entirely sure the lecturer believed in the Fifth Ship as anything other than an ontological construct. As the lights came up, and the people in the front rows crowded forward to talk to the lecturer, he stood stiffly, and turned toward the nearest exit.

  “You’re vertical,” a voice said behind him, and he turned to see the man he’d noticed before, the one in spacer’s boots. A woman had joined him, tall and golden-skinned, her scarlet hair pulled up and back into a high fall, but the taller man was nowhere to be seen. Val looked from one to the other, and decided there was no point in denying it.

  “Yeah.” He hoped his tone implied and so are you.

  The burly man grinned, and the woman said, “If you’re here for the same reasons we are…”

  “How can I know what those might be?” Val asked.

  “You’ve seen her,” the man said, impatiently. He paused, then touched his own chest. “Adam Mac Ivan. She’s Nanxi Sanrosa.”

  Val hesitated, but vertical courtesy demanded that he give at least his common name. “Val Morcant.”

  “If you’ve seen her,” Mac Ivan said, “we’d like to talk.”

  It was stupid, Val knew. If word got out that he was seriously pursuing the Fifth Ship, he’d never get a job with a decent multi-planar again—more than that, there were gangs who preyed on the credulous, though he didn’t think Mac Ivan and Sanrosa belonged to one. But if they had seen her, too… “All right. Where?”

  “I know a place,” Sanrosa began, and Val shook his head.

  “What about here?”

  Mac Ivan nodded. “There are some quieter bars on the second level. We can talk there.”

  1.06 History

  Both Bhagwati and Al-Ghazali were waiting outside her chambers when she arrived. She ushered them in. “I know Superior Justice Grotius runs things by the codes. You’ll find that I’m more informal than that. I expect both of you to operate with a good deal of autonomy—which means I don’t want to be bothered coming up with things to keep you busy. When something needs doing, do it. If you need additional resources or help, ask.”

  Bhagwati shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Thurgood, what will we be doing to assist you?”

  Nalani smiled. “Anything that needs doing. I might give you research assignments, I might send you out on field work, you might be beasts of burden.”

  Bhagwati grinned. “I was the oldest of three children. I’m used to that.”

  “Good.” She looked from one to the other. “I want you to keep your eyes and minds open. When you think I’m missing something, tell me.” Bhagwati opened his mouth; Nalani held up one finger and placed it in front of his lips. “Silently, through your codices.”

  Al-Ghazali crossed her arms. “What’s first on today’s agenda?”

  “Well,” Nalani said, “I’ve just filed to reopen the Caridad Sanrosa case. I expect Superior Justice Grotius will want to speak to me. Accordingly, I’d like to get out of the office.” She chuckled. “Let’s go interview Caridad Sanrosa.”

  Polo Halau’s detention rooms were among the most civilized Nalani had seen. The furnishings were plain, and exit doors refused to open, but otherwise prisoners were allowed to be comfortable—especially those awaiting execution.

  “It could be worse,” Nalani said to her Apprentices. “On the Third Plane, they generally keep prisoners in stasis until the review period’s over.”

  A viewscreen outside the detention room showed Caridad Sanrosa sitting at a table, intent on several datapads before her. She was a small woman, shorter than Bhagwati, with bronze skin, the typical Sanrosa prominent cheekbones, and hair a shade between brown and blond. Her eyes were an arresting sky blue under broad brows.

  Nalani tapped the door with a finger; the standard chime sounded and Caridad Sanrosa looked up. “Enter.”

  As soon as they entered, Nalani bowed. She felt the Apprentices, at her side, match her. “Thank you for seeing me, Sen.”

  Sanrosa stood, returning each bow. “People usually don’t knock.”

  “Please, sit down. I’m Supreme Justice Thurgood IX. Apprentice Judge Al-Ghazali IV, Apprentice Judge Bhagwati VIII.” She fingered a chair. “May we?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Nalani took her seat, the Apprentices a second behind her. She flashed comforting smile number three. “I’ll come right to the point, Sen. I’ve reopened your case, due to...several irregularities. I’m prepared to vacate either your conviction or the entire case, depending on the results of my investigation.”

  Sanrosa froze, a slight frown on her face. “I...wasn’t aware that was a possibility.”

  “Fortunately, a Supreme Justice has enormous discretionary powers. I’d like to ask you a few questions to get the process underway.” She held out her left arm, showing her codex. “With you permission, all three of us will record this session.”

  Sanrosa looked from face to face. “Of course. Yes. I agree.”

  (“Record, sight and sound, beginning now.”) “Could you state your full name and professional position, please?”

  “LVS Caridad kaQuin Mateus Sanrosa, Professor of History at Kauhale University.”

  “Can you tell me, in your own words, how you came to be involved in this case?”

  Sanrosa’s eyes set, sky blue turning to hard steel. “In Septem last year I published a paper on a dig I conducted on Kauhale’s Moon. A week or so after the paper appeared, a couple of Judiciary agents came to the University and took me into custody.”

  Nalani nodded. “According to that paper, the dig you speak of commenced in Quinque, ORC Year 494 and ended in Unum 495, is that correct?”

  “That is correct. I have the exact dates if you need them.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  Her codex whispered, (“Message from Bhagwati: Uenuku testified that their episode wasn’t even drafted until the middle of 495.”)

  (“Tell Bhagwati thank you.”) Without a pause, Nalani continued, “Several hearings involved a cruise that you took with a number of other historians. One of them died of natural causes.” (“Cerebr
al hemorrhage,”) her codex supplied. “Can you tell me when that cruise took place?”

  “It was the second week of Quatuor 498.” Sanrosa tapped a datapad. “I have the billing statements and confirmations here somewhere.”

  “No need. It’s all in the case records.” The cruise, her codex told her, was a key piece of evidence. Apparently the historian in the show took a similar cruise, one that ended in murder. The fact that Sanrosa’s cruise happened after the episode was written was considered an argument for guilt.

  (“We’ll nail this one down,”) Nalani told her codex. “When did you start planning that cruise?”

  Sanrosa squirmed in her seat. “That’s the thing. It came as a complete surprise. Professor Avakian won a drawing at a conference, the whole department got to go.”

  (“Interesting. Remind me to follow up.”) “Professor, do you have any enemies? I mean, prior to this matter?”

  Sanrosa’s brows contracted. “What do you mean, enemies?”

  Nalani sighed. “Assuming your innocence—which I do—considerable effort has been expended to remove you from the scene. I wonder who might have made that effort. Naturally the first thought is some personal or professional enemy.”

  “I’ve never been asked that before. I can’t imagine anything of the sort. I’m an archaeologist concentrating on the archaic period.” Her slight, brief smile was the first positive expression she’d given. “I count myself fortunate when people are interested, much less hostile.”

  Nalani raised a brow. “I have friends in academia. I know that abstract arguments can get very passionate. Is there perhaps a professional rival who disputes your theories, or vice-versa?”

  The smile lasted longer this time. “Honestly, Sen, I can’t think of anyone.”

  (“Bhagwati asks permission to speak.”)

  Nalani eyed the Apprentice. Confident and eager...overconfident, if his record was to be believed. Still, the lad had good intuition, and deserved a chance. (“Tell him to go ahead.”)

  Bhagwati leaned forward (“Remind me to talk to him about aggressive posture”) and asked, “What about First Ship cultists?”

  Smile turned to frown. “I’m a serious scientist. I don’t have any truck with such...superstition.”

  “But that’s your field, isn’t it? Artifacts and culture of the Five Ships?”

  Sanrosa straightened her back. “Real artifacts from an authentic historical period. It’s fact that our universe was settled by five original multi-planar ships. It’s fact that relics of those ships have been found on all five Planes. Anything else—specifically, fantastic claims that the Fifth Ship is still out there, crewed by ghosts—is pure and utter twaddle.”

  Time for damage control. “Professor, Bhagwati surely doesn’t mean to imply anything about your work. The cultists do exist, and one can see how they might object to your research. Can you remember receiving any suspicious communication? Threats, tracts, anything at all?”

  Sanrosa paused. “I don’t remember any specific instances. But I do get a lot of mail from cranks and crackpots, I could easily have discarded something like that without reading it.”

  “We’ll check to see if they’ve made any public statements involving you.” (“Search exhaustively. Don’t limit it to cults, report all negative correlations with Professor Sanrosa.”)

  Her codex answered, (“Good, something to fill those long, empty hours when I have nothing else to do.”)

  Nalani glanced around the table, face to face. “Those are all the questions I have for you, Professor. Thank you for cooperating.” She tapped her codex. (“End recording.”) She faced Sanrosa. “Sen, I’m afraid that you’ll have to stay in detention until I render my decision. I hope that’ll be days rather than weeks. Before we go, I want to answer any questions or concerns you have.”

  “Until you walked in, I thought I had weeks to live. I think you’re restoring my faith in the Judiciary.” Sanrosa shook her head. “I don’t have any questions or concerns.”

  Nalani pulled herself to her feet; the Apprentices popped upright at once. “If you need me, just ask. The AI here will be able to contact me.”

  “Thank you, Supreme Justice.”

  Outside, Nalani walked quickly, the Apprentices half a pace behind her. As she spoke, she issued commands to her codex. “Bhagwati, my codex is searching for hostility toward the Professor, cultists or not. I want you to take over that effort; my codex will report to yours. Acceptable?”

  Bhagwati bobbed his head in a nominal bow. “Yes, Thurgood.”

  “Al-Ghazali, can you follow up on that cruise? I want to know who sponsored those giveaway tickets. Dig deep, find out who’s ultimately behind it. Acceptable?”

  “Thurgood,” Al-Ghazali said, “I don’t see how that has any relevance.”

  “It might not.” Nalani stopped, turned to face the Appentices. “Thing is, in cases of this sort, there are almost always frayed edges. So you pick at them, see what else they’re attached to, where they lead. Most aren’t useful, but we never know until we look.”

  Al-Ghazali looked unconvinced, but nodded. “Yes, Thurgood.”

  Nalani turned and started walking again. Bhagwati said, “Where are we going now?”

  Nalani smiled. “I see that Superior Justice Grotius wants to meet with me at my convenience. Which makes this a perfect time to head down to Kauhale and see the folks from Uenuku Productions.”

  The big multi-planar ships almost never visited Coquimbo; Melody Amative was only the second Artur could recall.

  The colony wouldn’t be forgetting this visit for a long time, mostly because of the big ship’s star passengers. Hulda and Eskil Boford were a legitimate entertainment sensation—their unique blend of song, gymnastics, comedy, and impalpable sexuality had made them famous on every Plane. Videos and immersives of their concerts always commanded premium prices. Every one of Coquimbo’s ten thousand colonists, it seemed, wanted to see them perform.

  Governor Ramos arranged for two concerts, Monoday afternoon and Hinday morning. There wasn’t a single enclosed space on the planet large enough to hold them all. Artur and his team worked for two days constructing a makeshift amphitheater in a valley north of the city.

  Now Artur was ready to enjoy his reward. After the first concert, the entertainers came down into the audience to interact with the crowd. Artur let it go on for nearly an hour, then pushed his way through stragglers and escorted the pair backstage. “I’m Artur Herrerra, Chief Engineer. You were wonderful. I hope the equipment and crew were satisfactory?”

  Both were tall and exceptionally thin, with skin the color of snow and green-brown eyes. Hulda’s long hair was bone-white and straight, falling like an icy river past her smooth shoulders; Eskil wore his sky-blue hair in a five centimeter mohawk. It was impossible to guess their ages, although Artur could tell at once that they weren’t youngsters.

  Eskil grinned and took Artur by the shoulders, kissing the air above both his cheeks. “Sen, everything was stellar. The crew couldn’t have been nicer to us.”

  Hulda repeated the greeting. “They said your people put this venue together in two days?” Artur nodded. “I can’t believe that. The sound and vid systems were magnificent. We’ve played Fifth Plane shows that weren’t as well equipped. Thank you.”

  Artur nodded acknowledgment. “I have good people.” He looked the pair up and down. “I suppose you’d like to get some rest?”

  Hulda smiled. “Yes, that would be good. We’re always energized by a show, but in a little while we’ll start to crash.”

  Eskil retrieved a travel bag and started rummaging through it. “I know the Governor sent us our lodging arrangements, but I’ve forgotten—”

  Exactly the opening Artur was waiting for. “Coquimbo is still a new colony. We don’t exactly have commercial hotels or lodges. I think the Governor was going to put you up in her official house.” He made a sour face. “It’s sterile. No flavor. Now if you’d rather, I have a very comfortable cabin u
p in the mountains. We can be there in ten minutes.”

  “That’s exceptionally kind of you, Sen Herrerra,” Hulda said, licking her lips and taking his good hand. “I believe we’d love to spend the night at your…cabin.”

  Artur was wearing his social right arm, steel and leather; Eskil ran his own hand down the length. “It sounds the chance of a lifetime. How do we get there?”

  Slipping one arm around each of them, he said, “I have an aircar nearby.”

  On the short flight, he explained more about the cabin. “We have some very temperamental heavy equipment up there—heat shield generator, hyperwave transceivers, seismic monitors, that sort of thing. We put in the cabin as a place for techs to stay rather than running back and forth to town.” He shrugged. “Over the years we’ve added to the amenities.”

  Eskil chuckled. “I believe we’ll enjoy it immensely, Sen.”

  “Oh, call me Artur.”

  Hulda gave him a peck on the cheek. “And you must call us Hulda and Eskil.”

  He detoured past Celestial Falls, a set of lacy waterfalls that sparkled in the late afternoon sun. Eskil whistled. “What beautiful falls. Hulda, don’t they remind you of the Iskander Falls at home?”

  “Very much,” Hulda answered. “We’ve been away from home for over a year—going on twelve months, in fact. Long enough to start feeling homesick. You can’t know what a joy it is to be reminded.”

  “There’s a theory,” Artur said, “that every planet has its duplicate on the other Planes. Perhaps your homeworld and Coquimbo are duplicates.”

  “It would be wonderful to think so.”

  Climbing toward the high plateau, Artur suddenly frowned. Another aircar was parked at the cabin. Yet he’d told all the boys and girls that he had dibs on the place tonight…who in physics could it be?

  Never mind, he’d get rid of them quick enough. He let the car land itself, helped Eskil and Hulda out, and started toward the cabin.