“There is good news though…” Asil’s voice rolled on, talking about new contracts and the details of the children’s days. She could hear his spirits lifting as he spoke, and knew he was thinking about how the news would affect her. How she would be comforted and warmed and reminded of her other home and her other life and his steady love.
“We’ll make it yet, Beloved,” she said to the wall as his voice paused.
“I love you, Katmer. Good-night.”
She sat in the silence that followed, running her hijab through her fingers. They’d be talking in a few minutes. They’d be taking steps to right this whole mess. Nothing was over yet. Nothing was sealed or signed. They’d work something out. They always had. Her memory was filled with countless scenes of Asil close beside her while they poured over a contract or projection, or studied merits of school programs for the children, or even selected an economic caterer for a family event. They could work anything out. It was something they were not only good at, but proud of.
“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?”