"I may not love him, but I'm Nomik Ciety's niece. A quick genetic scan will prove our relationship, and the Family is very fond of backing family rights. Probably, all I have to do is make the claim and I could put his whole empire, such as it is, on hold."
"You can't hope to win such a claim," Rand's voice was almost surprised.
"Of course not. But it would cost more to hire an assassin than it would to pay me what she owes, and it would cost twice that to retain an attorney."
"She could challenge you to a duel."
"I can take her."
"If I were human, I would laugh. Silken hates you, Joat. To the point of obsession. I'm sure that nothing would give her greater pleasure than killing you herself. Probably she hasn't challenged you simply because it hasn't occurred to her."
Joat grinned savagely.
"Oh, it's occurred to her all right. But she won't risk leaving Ciety alone and at the mercy of the Family. If he were dead we'd have crossed swords long since."
"So you'll be able to leave."
"Yes. And I'll be able to call in favors, perhaps get a loan," she was silent a moment, "maybe even get through to Bros. So don't give up on me. Okay? I won't make that an order."
Philosophers might debate whether it was possible for a computer to commit suicide, since it wasn't certain that they could be self-aware in the first place. Rand's "impassive" face blinked multicolored lights for a few moments.
"Very well, I will abide. But, if I am sold to someone else, Joat, I won't serve them. If worst comes to worst I've saved a copy of Seg's worm program. Should some other bidder obtain the Wyal, I shall trigger it. If I don't fight it, it will be very quick."
"You can't be serious," Joat whispered. She couldn't believe her ears. "Aren't you even willing to give a new owner a chance to prove their worth before taking such a drastic step?"
She wondered if she'd programmed him for self-preservation. Of course I did! I couldn't possibly have left it out, it's too important. Not that it was unknown for Rand to erase bits of programming he didn't want anymore. She'd never locked down any part of him, preferring to leave that… freedom, for himself.
"I am an individual," Rand insisted, "there is no more individual choice than this."
Joat sat still, too horrified to speak.
"All right, that's enough," the shorter repo-man struck the back of her chair, making it spin towards him. "Stop yakking to the computer, go pack up your belongings and get lost."
Her mind was wholly on Rand, or she would have kicked his tubby form through the bulkhead. Instead she gave him a disgusted look and headed off the bridge.
"Hey! Don't forget these," he said and handed her the collection of datahedrons she'd made.
"Personal files, erased," said Rand mechanically.
Joat sat in the auction room with her heart in her mouth.
It was an enormous hall, too brightly lit, with a strange sharp smell to it. The hall was furnished with ugly, uncomfortable chairs each having one arm that terminated in a small computer with a display screen. Currently it displayed the ship being bid on. There were a few controls that would call up information on the ship, schematics, history, and beside them a slot into which a successful bidder's credit chip would go. Almost every seat was filled with junk dealers, purchase agents, and bargain hunters.
She had with her every credit she could beg, borrow or earn and it was still forty thousand credits short of the fine.
Wyal was going on the block.
It was third on the list and the closer it got to the top the faster her heart beat. Her palms were sweating and she rubbed them surreptitiously on the fabric of her dark blue business suit. The strange, formal garment she wore in hope of looking more respectable only succeeded in making her feel obvious and awkward. I should have robbed that bank. I should. Robbing banks on Rohan…
The hammer went down and the Wyal moved one place closer to the block. Her breathing grew nervous and ragged.
She knew, she knew that she wouldn't get her ship back. Silken was certain to have agents among the bidders who would know to the credit how much she had. Agents who were, no doubt, instructed to bid just one credit more.
Alvec, who was working short, freelance hops, had offered his life savings.
"I can't take this," she'd told him, horrified and deeply touched, as well as terribly tempted.
"So make me a partner," he'd said.
And she'd smiled, hope blazing.
But it hadn't been enough. It had never been enough and Bros Sperin remained beyond her reach. So here she was, facing certain defeat, feeling humiliated before she even began.
How could I have been so stupid? she railed at herself. When had she grown so soft that she would put her freedom on the line, for someone else, mind you, with no expectation of cost or reward? My own fault. Playing at spy, she mocked, I'm no better than Seg!T'sel.
Alvec was furious with her for not asking Amos for help.
"I asked my father," she'd said. Though of course she hadn't told Simeon why she needed credits. "That's as much as my pride can take."
That was partially true, it had hurt to ask Simeon for help. Even though he gave it willingly and offered to take out a loan for more, no questions asked, it hurt. She'd felt like a complete failure. First Brawn school, and now this.
Nor did she dare to ask Amos for help. Bethel was a poor planet, most of her credits already committed for years to come. And though he was very rich, Amos was in the habit of pouring most of his wealth back into his world's struggling economy. She couldn't very well ask him to choose her needs over the good of his people. And she didn't think he would really understand about Rand.
Joat wondered if Joseph and Amos hovered in the same state of anxiety that tortured her, wanting to give, not daring to offer. Or if they even knew.
Either way she simply couldn't afford the time or the money it would cost to ask, only to be told no.
A deeper truth was that she felt Amos should have offered. Or Joseph should have. He knew all about the debt. Yet the total silence from all the powerful people she'd counted as friends-or more than friends-never varied. In the end she was just a forgotten detail, an unimportant loose end.
Joat frowned. Oh, stop it, she thought disgustedly, there's no poison deadlier than self-pity. The mistake was yours and so's the punishment.
Although that last wasn't completely true. Rand had made it very plain that he didn't count himself as part of the ship.
Rand's threat had certainly inspired her to new heights, and depths, in her fund-raising efforts. Sometimes, late at night when she couldn't get to sleep for thinking about it, Joat told herself that was why he'd made it. To get her over her shyness about asking friends for help.
Probably he doesn't mean to erase himself at all, she comforted herself. Hah! A computer that plays with you. Somehow I don't think this idea will sell.
Joat knew that if she lost the ship, and Rand erased himself, for the rest of her life, she was going to feel like a failure and a murderer.
There might still be time to get through to Amos on Bethel, she thought.
The next ship up was a tasty offering that seemed to have excited a lot of interest. Of course sometimes those were the ones that came on and off the block so fast you couldn't get a decent look at them.
Then there was the cost to consider.
A tight-beam interstellar com-link could cost me four percent of what I've got. On the other hand… On the other hand Silken's bidders wouldn't let her have the Wyal anyway unless she could exceed Nomik Ciety's entire fortune. And she couldn't even pay the fine.