Fool's War (24 page)

The justice’s eyes flickered from the lawyer to Lipinski. What little color the Houston had in his cheeks had drained away.

“Is that correct, ‘Ster Lipinski?” Muratza tapped the edge of the table with one finger.

Allah the Merciful, keep him steady, prayed Al Shei.

“Yes.” Lipinski coughed. “Yes, it is.”

Muratza did not look convinced. Neither did the pair from the hospital.

“Channel to
Pasadena
established.” Incili’s voice cut the tension. “Intercom to data hold open.”

“This is Communication Engineer Latius Odel.” The screen on the office wall flickered into life and showed Odel still sitting at Station One. There were empty bags and bulbs crumpled to one side that showed he’d just finished a meal there. “What can I do for you, ‘Dama Resit?”

Someone is going to get a dressing down when the crisis is over,
thought Al Shei. Lipinski was notoriously fastidious about his hold.

But Lipinski wasn’t even looking at the screen. He was still staring at the tabletop, and his hands were still twitching.

Resit addressed the screen. “Odel, I need the records of the data transfer between the
Pasadena
and New Medina Central Hospital.”

Odel peered into the screen as if trying to figure out what was going on from Resit’s eyes. When he found no answers, he turned back to the boards.

“Locating,” he said as he wrote out the orders.

“Send them straight to the open files for Justice Muratza, New Medina police house number eighteen, storage area,” she paused and checked the readout on the table. “FKJ-O126-AT12/C.”

“Down loading.” Odel selected a menu and then tapped the board twice. “You should be getting it now.”

Muratza flicked through the menus on his own board and nodded.

“Thank you, ‘Ster Odel,” said Resit with a shade too much politeness. “Incili, close the line.”

The hospital advocate bent over his own board. Shirar whispered harshly in his ear. Al Shei took advantage of their distracted attention to tap Lipinski quickly on the knee. “What’s wrong?” she whispered as loudly as she dared.

He ran his thumb across his throat in a slicing gesture. We’re dead. Resit didn’t miss the gesture. She made a quick chopping motion below the table. Cut it out.

“All right.” Muratza wrote an order across his board. “Let’s see what you two have to show me.” He settled back in his chair and directed his attention to the closest wall screen.

First came the
Pasadena
’s data. Most of the screen was taken up by a recording of Odel’s hands writing orders and activating menus on the Comm Station One board. Smaller squares around the main window gave captions explaining the orders and detailing the movement of the data for each motion, which database was accessed, the size and shape of the packet retrieved, which line was used to transmit it to the surface and the record of how well the transfer proceeded. All of it showed the entire procedure going off with textbook ease.

Then came the hospital’s data. The video scene was similar, except this time it was Lipinski’s hands and the hospital board. This time the procedure was not so easy. Lipinski was running multiple checks on the data’s configuration and its integrity. He initiated spot diagnostic checks as it passed through the board, repeating them if the responses flickered on either side of a zero response.

The hospital advocate’s black eyes glittered. “Any particular reason for the overwhelming,” he drawled the word, “caution, ‘Ster Lipinski?”

Resit drew herself up to her full height. Al Shei recognized it as a defensive maneuver.

“
Pasadena
crew made a full disclosure of the virus infection to the hospital representatives.” Resit extracted a film from Incili’s carrying case. “They generated a waiver before they accepted the packet.”

“Yes,” a tone half-way between smugness and righteousness crept into the advocate’s voice. “They generated a waiver for what they were
told
about.”

Muratza’s face remained impassive at this revelation, but the advocate’s practically glowed with triumph.

 
Al Shei decided she could take an active dislike to the man if she had the time. She also hoped that the reason Resit was keeping quiet was she didn’t want to dignify the last statement with a reply.

The hospital’s data played on. Lipinski funnelled the data he cleared into the open storage space. The final size and configuration numbers were reached. Lipinski ran through one last integrity check and got a zero reading. He sealed the storage and cleared the line.

The recording shifted to columns of ratios; configured space to unconfigured, used space to empty space.

“This is a record of the monitoring program on the storage space where the data was supposed to be transferred,” said the advocate. “Watch what happens as soon as a tap is attempted.”

The recording showed the raw numbers for a new line opening, and the stats shifted to columns of zeros. No space configured, no space used. Nothing there. Nobody home.

The screen blanked out.

Al Shei couldn’t help herself. She glanced anxiously at Resit. Resit didn’t even look mildly surprised.

She must have gotten a look at it before she got here. Al Shei tugged at her tunic sleeve. Cousin, you’re getting a raise as soon as I’ve got one to give you.

“So, ‘Ster Lipinski,” the advocate folded his hands and rested both elbows on the table. “There were problems in flight, were there? A convenient excuse to get my clients to sign a waiver in case anything untoward happened to their packet.”

Lipinski opened his mouth, but Resit beat him too it.

“‘Ster Justice Muratza.” She faced the justice. “The hospital’s own records show that the data transferred was exactly the data received by the
Pasadena
, nothing more and nothing less. It is ‘Ster Lipinski’s own precautions that prove that no trace of viral code, or any other uncontracted data could have possibly been transferred down to New Medina.” She cast a withering glance at the advocate and Shirar. “The language on the waiver covers nothing more than a viral infection. The advocate knows this. He is building conspiracies out of thin air. What the records show is that if the data has been erased, it happened after the transfer. I am most appalled at this attempt to blame
Pasadena
corporation for the hospital’s own error.” She shook her head. “A tragic error, certainly. I understand that packet was a valuable well-spring of information for them, but it was an error nonetheless.” The advocate shifted his weight, but Resit didn’t give him a chance to speak. “The Pasadena Corporation delivered exactly and entirely what Dr. Amory Dane contracted it to deliver. This is verified by the hospital’s own records. The data was placed and sealed in a storage unit chosen by the hospital’s designated representative.” She swept her hand toward Shirar. “With that, our contract was fulfilled and payment became due. What happened after that, however regrettable, is not the responsibility of Pasadena Corporation.”

Muratza made another note on his board. “That is true.”

“‘Ster Justice,” spluttered the advocate. “You can’t mean to let any of this…fabrication go unverified…”

“I don’t.” Muratza made a second note and selected a
SEND
command from a menu. Al Shei wished fervently, and a bit ridiculously, that she could read Arabic upside down.

“There is a situation here that merits investigation.” Muratza laid down his pen. “That much is evident. What it is and whether criminal charges are called for is still in question.” He stood up. “The representatives of the Pasadena Corporation will make themselves available to this office and its representatives until such time as this investigation is considered resolved, as will the representatives of New Medina Central Hospital.” He waited for either lawyer to protest, but something in his manner suggested that they had better not.

“Thank you, ‘Ster Justice Muratza.” The hospital advocate tucked his pen in his belt pocket and sealed the stack of films in front of him into a book.

“Thank you, ‘Ster Justice Muratza.” Resit unplugged Incili and stowed her gear in its case.

The advocate walked out of the office with Shirar already plucking at his elbow. Resit picked up Incili and gestured for Al Shei and Lipinski to proceed her out the door. Lipinski opened his mouth and Resit shook her head.

Al Shei grabbed her Houston’s shoulder with one hand and steered him out of the police house.

She did not let go until they had crossed the pedestrian catwalk, come down the spiral stairs on the other side and walked another full block from the police house, so that they were back on sidewalks crowded with pedestrians and working drones. The sun was setting, turning the sky a deep lapis blue and sending the first chilling breezes of evening through the streets.

Al Shei stopped in the long shadow of a beautifully arched facade and faced Lipinski.

“Al Shei,” said Resit with a note of warning in her voice. “We’ve got a lot to talk about…”

“And we’ll get to it.” Al Shei did not take her eyes off Lipinski. “What’s the matter?” she asked flatly.

In the shadows, his skin looked pasty grey. “Did you see how the cleaning drones all failed this afternoon?”

“Yes.” Al Shei folded her arms.

“And how the comm lines clogged up so suddenly?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

“Those are central communications failures. Spot failures.” His eyes grew distant and whatever he was looking at made him shiver. “AI induced failures.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Resit.

Lipinski tilted his head back until he was looking straight up at the deep blue sky. “I should have seen it. I should have noticed.” He looked straight at Al Shei and Resit again. “There is a live AI loose in New Medina, and we brought it here.”

Resit clutched the handle on Incili’s case until her knuckles turned white. “Lipinski, if anybody, anybody has recorded you saying this…”

Al Shei touched Resit’s arm to quiet her. “You sound very sure,” she said quietly to Lipinski.

“It is an AI.” Lipinski’s words came out as a harsh whisper toward the doorway behind them. “It’s a live AI. We brought it here and now it’s loose.”

“You don’t know that,” said Al Shei sharply. “You have got no way to know that.”

“The hell I don’t.” His pale blue eyes were round with fear. “What else could it be? We’ve got to get out of here, Al Shei. Now.”

“No,” she said as quietly and as forcefully as she could managed. “We’ve got no facts. We also are under investigation. We stay where we are until we know for certain what is happening.”

Lipinski’s hands clenched and unclenched. “Spot failures are what happens first,” he said to the ground. “Then the basic diagnostic programs start returning senseless answers. Then special programs get written, and those disappear. Then systems start shutting down, on their own or because somebody’s trying to isolate something that can move faster than they can think. Once that happens there’s no controlling it.” He was shaking violently now. “Five days, five days, after it got loose on Kerensk I had to go out into the streets to try to find us something to eat. All the stuff in the kitchens was gone and we had nothing but metal and plastic and it was below freezing outside. No water either, and no snow to melt, just this mind-numbing cold. I was stumbling along, thanking God that the rioters had decided to move on and I tripped over this old man. I don’t know how long he’d been dead. He had his hand in a shattered pipe. He’d been trying to drink the water. It was sewage. It was frozen but I could still smell it…”

Al Shei laid both of her hands on his shoulders. “We wait right where we are,” she told him. “We wait until tomorrow and see what Resit and my contact both come up with. Then, when we’ve got our facts we decide what to do.”

“But…” He was trembling. She could feel it all the way up her elbows.

“No,” said Al Shei again. “You’re panicking, Houston, without evidence and without thinking, and you know it.”

“I wish I knew that,” he breathed. “I wish to God I did.”

Dobbs crept down the silent path. It was wrong, all wrong. This was a full, functioning path in a network that had heavy requirements. It should not be as still as the data hold aboard the
Pasadena
. It should not be empty of even the scraps and fragments that the Live One had left behind in other places.

She could see how it made an effective strategy, though. The Live One hadn’t left anything for her to hide behind and there was no way she disguise what she was by piggy-backing on an expected packet. If the Live One reached down this line, it would see only her, and then it would…what?

Dobbs pinched off a piece of the line and quickly reshaped it into a feedback link. She hauled the line through herself and re-attached the new sensor to it. Then, she cast the line in front of her and followed where it went.

“Good idea, Master Dobbs,” said Guild Master Havelock softly. She felt the Guild Masters pull their presences all the way back down the line.

Glad you think so,
Dobbs thought to herself, trying to concentrate on what the line saw.

The sensor told her of more yards of empty path, and more, and more. She followed it, tense and tired of tension. Nothing, nothing and still more nothing.