Fool's War (23 page)

“Here, Dobbs! Here!” The line shot through her and pulled together the hole in her outer self. She snatched at the data stream between the foul, tearing things, twisted it tight and pulled it deep into herself.

…find source of other/harm/pry. Destroy source other/harm/pry. Locate all traveller/spy/destroyer. Destroy all traveller/spy/destroyer. Send back data on location, size, number, needed assistance…

The data streams snapped and the things scattered. Dobbs flinched and grabbed at them. She pulled about half into her and held them. One scampered down the path away from her, the rest scuttled up the path, toward, presumably, their maker.

Dobbs wanted to catch the one heading toward central comm. It was alone and couldn’t do much, but some damage would be done. But there was no time to try to stop it. Her best guides to the Live One were already fleeing her, and building new data streams between them as they went.

Dobbs grit her inner self and raced after them. She buckled the Guild Masters’ line onto one of the things she held and thrust it into the pack. The others absorbed it back into their numbers and did not question it. Dobbs hung onto the line and let herself be pulled along in their wake.

The sun was well past its zenith, but the market crowds showed no signs of thinning, or of quieting. Al Shei squeezed herself between a stall and a cloth wrapped bundles of something that smelled of vanilla. Her foot kicked something hard that clanked. She winced and looked down.

A cleaning drone lay on its side, unmoving, like the discarded carapace of some fanciful metallic insect. Along the thoroughfare she saw other patrons, stepping awkwardly over similar obstacles, cursing or just grunting in surprise. Still metal bodies lay scattered across the street. A flash of sunlight glanced off the side of another as it toppled from a wall and crashed onto a tiled awning.

Reflexively, Al Shei crouched down, and turned over the drone at her feet. There was nothing obviously wrong with it. She tested each of its eight limbs. All of them moved smoothly. She opened the main panel and prodded the wiring. There were no obvious signs of burn-out or corrosion.

A shadow fell across her and she looked up. Two women had positioned themselves directly in front of her.

“Peace be unto you,” said the taller of the two, blandly.

Feeling mildly embarrassed, Al Shei put the inactive drone down and straightened up, dusting her hands off as she did.

“And also unto you,” she answered politely. Her gaze shifted between the pair. They were neatly dressed in loose forest-green tunics and divided skirts. Their
kijabs
were plain and pinned in place with silver clasps. Their skin was heavily tanned from long days under a desert sun. “May I ask what your business is with me?”

“‘Dama Katmer Al Shei you are under arrest for fraud and conspiracy to commit fraud,” said the shorter woman. “You will please come with us.”

Al Shei’s heart sank straight to the soles of her feet. She tried to speak and realized she’d just start stammering. She smoothed her
hijab
down and did her best to put a haughty glower into her eyes.

“Who is accusing me?”

“Second Administrator Shirar of New Medina Central Hospital,” said Taller.

Al Shei felt her knees try to give way. She locked them to keep herself upright. “I have the right to legal counsel, I presume?”

“You do,” said Shorter. “Your ship’s lawyer has already been contacted and will be meeting you at the police house. Now, ‘Dama.” Shorter stepped back and gestured her to a closed in car. “We will be more comfortable discussing this matter there, I assure you.”

There was nothing else to do. Al Shei climbed into the car. As the two women shut the door behind her, she could just hear the beginning of the call to prayer.

“
Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
“ God is great. God is great.

The car seat was a confining, soft-sided bucket that made Al Shei think of the crash couch on the shuttle. It only took a few seconds for her to spot the slots for the restraining bands. There was a soft ‘snickt’ as the door locked behind her.

Al Shei folded her hands in her lap to avoid having to lay them on the seat’s arms with their suspicious slits right where her wrists would have rested.

“
Qad Qamatis salah! Qad Qamatis salah!
” The prayer has begun! The prayer has begun!

“
Bismillahir rahmanir rahim,
” said Al Shei softly to her toward her hands lying in her lap. The car glided forward. Her two guards did not look back at her. In the name of Allah, the most Merciful, the most Kind. “
Alhamdu lillahi rabbil alamin. Arrahmanir rahim.
“ All praise is for Allah, the Lord of the Worlds. “
Malliki yawmiddin. Iy yaka na’budu wa iy yaka nasta’in.
“ The most Merciful, the most Kind; Master of the Day of Judgement. “
Inhidinas siratal Mustaqim. Siratalladhina an’amta alaihim, Ghairil maghdubi ‘alaihim wa laddallin. Amin.
” You alone we worship. You alone we ask for help. Guide us along the straight way — The way of those whom You have favored and not of those who earn Your anger, nor of those who go astray.

It was not the right prayer for the time, but she couldn’t help feeling it was right for the circumstances.

What happened? Al Shei closed her hands into fists. What in the name of merciful Allah happened?

The police house was a squared-off, copper-glass sided building that looked incongruous in a city of domes, tiles and arches. The sidewalks here were clear of crowds. Catwalks overhead and along the far side of the street funnelled people away from the vicinity of the building. Al Shei felt very alone.

Her two guards walked Al Shei into the police house. The place was a broad room broken up by fenced-in desks, clear-walled offices and free-standing information stations. Men and women, most in traditional Arabic dress, milled through it, intent on their tasks, voicing their concerns or needs in four or five different languages.

Her escorts took her into one of the glassed-in offices. Lipinski, slouched in a thinly-padded chair. He looked up and gave her a small, two-fingered wave.

“We must have goofed,” he said with a humorless smile.

“Say anything more and Resit will bawl you out once we’re through with this.” Al Shei sat down next to him.

Lipinski remained dutifully silent while the two officers went through the long routine of registering Al Shei’s arrest. She was full-body imaged from all angles. She had to hold still while they took her finger-prints, palm-prints, retina-prints and shoe-prints. A male officer shepherded Lipinski out of the room and sent in a woman officer to record three separate images of Al Shei’s bare face.

When she re-wrapped in her
hijab
, they let Lipinski back in.

In the brief moment that the door was open, Al Shei heard a familiar voice clearly over all the babble and bustle of the police house.

“Zubedye Resit representing Katmer Al Shei and Rurik Lipinski. This is a wrongful accusation and I want it cleared up. Now.”

Lipinski looked at Al Shei. “I would like permission to marry your cousin.”

Al Shei felt a thin smile form. “If you can talk her into it, it’s fine with me.”

The two women who had escorted Al Shei to the station house reappeared and took her and Lipinski to a conference room with real walls. Resit was already there with Incili in its carrying case. Second Administrator Shirar stood in the back of the room with an expression of disgust and fury distorting her face. Next to her sat a man whom Al Shei assumed was the hospital’s lawyer. On the broad side of the table with his face to the door sat a man in clean white robes with a white turban on his head.

“Sit, sit, sit.” He waved his pen in the general direction of the remaining chairs. He sounded both harassed and tired.

Al Shei obeyed, catching Resit’s eye as she did. The corner of Resit’s mouth twitched upwards and she gave a small nod.

Good. She’d meant what she’d said out in the main chamber then. She was ready to get them out of this. Al Shei folded her hands on the table and waited.

“All right,” said the turbaned man. “I am Justice Muratza. My job is to keep this case from becoming a bigger nuisance than necessary.” He turned his drooping eyes to Shirar and her advocate. “For the record, will you state the complaint to the defendants?”

The advocate passed a film across the table to the justice. “Dr. Amory Dane, winning a contract bid from the New Medina Hospital, sub-contracted the
Pasadena
corporation to make a delivery of the packet of information. The specifics are listed here.” He reached across the table to point to the film with his pen. The justice nodded and waved him away.

The advocate cleared his throat and continued. “What was delivered was an empty shell, designed to take up space in storage until the
Pasadena
could abscond with the credit transferred to its account by the hospital.” He frowned at Al Shei. “As for the thief, both male and female, chop off their hands,” he quoted. “It is the reward for their own deeds.”

Al Shei leaned forward and stabbed at the table top with her finger. Resit laid a warning hand on her shoulder before she could get a word out.

“Thank you,” said the Justice dryly. “We’ll wait for a trial before we decide if we’re all going to turn literalist.” He scribbled a note on his memory board. “And what does the Pasadena corporation have to say for itself?”

“In the interests of keeping all nuisance to a minimum,” Resit said, smoothly. “I’d like to invoke local statutes 145-A and 584-C which provide for pre-trial and public comparison and verification in the case of conflicting computer records. We can direct link to both the hospital records and the Pasadena’s and compare them. This will show that the
Pasadena
delivered only the information which it was given by Amory Dane.” She drew a stack of films out of her case, “As verification, I have the video and transcript records of my meeting with Amory Dane and the data transfer to the
Pasadena
’s data hold. If there are accusations of wrongdoing, the New Medina Hospital must take them to Dr. Dane, or,” she paused to make doubly sure everyone’s attention was on her, “as seems more likely, they must acknowledge there is a fault with their data storage system.

“Our records are security sealed and can be verified by contacting the port authorities of Port Oberon.” She looked the hospital’s advocate square in the eye. “He who truly believes in Allah and the Last Day should either speak good or keep silent.”

Muratza frowned at her. “We are giving statements, not sermons.” He glanced over the films. “However, a records comparison does look like the quickest way to see who’s got a case here.”

“Sir.” Hospital Advocate was still trying to stare Resit down. “I invoke statute 784-H. I want those films verified. This crew has already proven themselves to be very good at faking their data.”

“Are we at trial?” countered Resit immediately. She swept her hand around the room. “Has a verdict been handed down? No? Then how has anything been proven?”

Shirar flushed umber. “I have got an empty database and forty doctors who can’t go ahead with critical patients because you…”

The justice sighed. “And if either representative allows their clients to delay this proceeding, I am going to strip your licenses to practice in the Farther Kingdom and send you packing. You can probably both cite the statutes that allow me to do this.” He gave them both hard looks. “So, let us see those records.”

A wall slammed down in front of Dobbs, slicing through the line between herself and the Attack modules. Dobbs skimmed across it. The pathway had been shut off by whatever was on the other side. She dropped to the bottom of the path and groped across it until she found a routing switch she could manipulate. She couldn’t break the wall, but she could tunnel under it. She opened up her new pathway below the barrier and slid through it.

Resit pulled a cable out of Incili’s box and plugged the AI into the table. Then she plugged her pen into the socket in the AIs side.

“Incili, open a channel to the comm watch on
Pasadena
.”

“There are no channels available,” said the calm tenor voice.

Resit’s brow furrowed. “Incili, try again.”

“There are no channels available.”

She looked across to the advocate and the justice. “‘Ster Justice, is this a peak load on your comm channels?”

“Not normally.” Muratza tucked his pen into one of the table sockets and tapped the board in front of him. “We’re jammed up though. What’s Central doing out there?”

Al Shei noticed Lipinski was sitting very still. “Inadequate configured pathway space,” he murmured.

The justice gave him a sharp look. “Do you have something to add to this discussion, ‘Ster Lipinski?”

“No, ‘Ster Justice,” said Lipinski to the table. “Nothing.” His eyes were wide though, and Al Shei could see his hands twitching. She glanced at Resit, whose brow was still wrinkled.

The hospital’s advocate, unfortunately, did not miss the silent exchange. “Is something wrong, ‘Ster Lipinski?” He inquired. “Did your ship perhaps encounter some problems with its own communications pathways during the flight?”

Al Shei stiffened involuntarily.

Resit laid her hand flat against the table top. “Nothing occurred during the Pasadena’s flight from Port Oberon in the Solar System to the Farther Kingdom which interfered with the integrity of the packet which we delivered,” she said firmly.