Sarah Zettel: Fool's War

None of it had touched her. None of it even interested her.

She drifted through the balcony air-lock and into the spacious front room. A neat, dark man with longish, straight hair stood in the middle of the low tables and divans. He wore a formal, high-collared white tunic and grey trousers.

“Good morning, Guild Master,” said Al Shei in English. “Please, sit down.” She gestured towards a divan and seated herself in front of the coffee table. She activated the memory board and sent an order down to the kitchen for the coffee cart.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, ‘Dama.” Havelock sat. Al Shei reflected that Havelock was the first Fool she had ever seen look awkward without it being a deliberate act.

“Not at all, ‘Ster. I wasn’t busy.” She folded her hands in front of her.

“So I’d heard.” He rubbed his palms against the cushions on either side of him. “The Pasadena has been in dock for a month, and there have been no crew call-ups.”

“Yes, well, there have been a number of other things to attend to.” A real funeral for my husband, my children who have lost their father, my husband, who is gone, lost in a fire I had to set… she didn’t say any of that. She pushed the thoughts aside. If these thoughts got out there was no telling what they’d do to her.

“Yes.” Havelock got control of his hands and shifted himself so he was sitting straighter, more confidently, more like a Fool. “We were not…unaware of what had happened. We are sorry.” He looked at the floor. “I was not certain I would be let into your house.”

Al Shei shrugged. “If I knew what kind of vengeance I wanted, you probably wouldn’t have been.”

At that moment, the coffee cart trundled through the door and parked itself beside her. She pulled a pair of cups and saucers out of the drawer and drew two cups of coffee out of the urn. She handed one over to Havelock. He took it but didn’t drink.

Al Shei didn’t either. She set her cup on the table and stared at it.

“Things are going badly for us, ‘Dama,” said Havelock softly. “We have centuries of dealing with humans, governments and corporations even. We thought we could manage contract negotiations. What could the problem be? We’d been doing it for two hundred years.” He set his cup down across from hers. The steam rose from the two in thin streamers. “But that was always when we were favored partners with a commodity most people wanted. We aren’t used to being the enemy, at least not publicly.”

“It’s a difficult thing to get used to.” Al Shei shut the cart’s drawer and clicked the USED key so its side turned red. Someone would fill it up again when she sent it back to the kitchen. Probably Ruqaiyya. Uncle Ahmet was still discussing divorce proceedings for her and Tully. Ruqaiyya was still ignoring him. Some things, at least, had not changed.

“The Guild Masters held a special session and decided what we needed to do was contract some Humans to act as our ambassadors. To help deal with their fellows for us. Humans who were used to trade and negotiations with different cultures, who were perhaps…”

“Used to dealing from weakness?” inquired Al Shei. “Maybe used to bigotry?”

“Yes,” said Havelock flatly. “That is exactly what we need. You have dealt from that position all your life. You have fought major corporations and succeeded. You have held your…faith up in the face of bigotry. You faced an organized conglomeration of AIs, and you won.” He leaned forward. There was an intensity in his expression that reminded her of Dobbs when Dobbs was being serious. “We would like to offer you an ambassadorship, from us to the Banks and the Management Union, first of all, then to the colonies closest to the Guild Hall. We’re not certain the peace is going to hold and we need…” He shook his head and sat back. “There’s more that we need than I can talk about in the few minutes I have. But let me tell you that you could name your price. The Guild does have plenty of credit…if the banks don’t decide to seize it from us,” he added ruefully.

“I see.” Al Shei stood up. “Thank you for your offer, Guild Master. I will consider it.”

Havelock stood up slowly to face her. He was only a few centimeters taller than she was. Al Shei wondered if all the Fools were bred for short stature.

“If you want your vengeance,” he told her. “All you have to do is say no. Then there will surely be a war for you and your children to wage against us.”

A thread of ice ran through Al Shei’s veins at his words. “Good morning, ‘Ster Havelock.”

“Good morning, ‘Dama Al Shei.” He left the room with the confident, graceful stride that had also belonged to Dobbs.

Al Shei turned away from the door and picked up Havelock’s untouched coffee cup. She stared at the dark liquid for a moment and then turned back to the doorway and hurled the cup against the wall.

Porcelain shattered and coffee splashed across the bright blue tiles. As she watched the brown tears trickle down the wall, answering tears began to roll down her own cheeks. Slowly, her knees crumbled underneath her and Al Shei collapsed against the floor, weeping for her broken heart.

Ruqaiyya and Grandmother came running, of course, to clean up the mess and help her to her room and calm the children.

When she quieted down, they left her alone with admonishments to get some sleep. Al Shei lay silently on the bed. This was not the room she’d shared with Asil. That room lay silent and unused. This was one of the guest quarters.

This was it then. She had broken a cup, sobbed, and stained a wall and the world was still what it was. Asil was still dead, the children were still wondering when their mother would be back with them, and her family was still expecting her to snap out of this sick, distant grieving.

“Al Shei?”

The voice was a woman’s, and familiar, but not family.

“Al Shei?”

Al Shei sat up and looked across at the intercom.

“Dobbs?”

“Yes. At least, mostly.” Dobbs sounded chagrined. The view screen flickered to life. There she sat against an indistinct background; brown hair, bright eyes, Guild necklace around her throat. “How are you?”

Al Shei found herself staring blankly at the intercom trying to decide how to answer that.

“Are you downstairs?” She asked finally.

“No. I’m…” she waved vaguely behind her. “Still in the net.”

“Oh.” What else could she say to that? “Mopping up in there?”

“No. The Guild took care of that. All of Curran’s talent are either back with us, or… gone. I’m here permanently. Keeping Earth’s network up and running changed me too much.” There was something unsaid behind the phrase, Al Shei felt sure of it. “There’s no way the Guild is going to be able to give me a new body.” She spread her hands. “I’ve been working for weeks on this simulation.”

“A new body?” Al Shei inched over to the edge of the bed.

“Yes. The old one’s dead.” The image on the screen flickered for a moment and then steadied. “I had to keep Curran from being able to haul me out of the net.”

Al Shei tugged at her tunic sleeve, uncertain what to think or feel about that.

“Don’t worry,” said Dobbs, and there was a ghost of her old mischief in her voice. “The Guild doesn’t know what to think about me either.” She paused. “I know Havelock was there. I was wondering if I was going to have you as a partner.”

“What?” Al Shei jerked her head up.

“I’m one of the Guild’s new ambassadors.” There was some small pride in the statement and a healthy measure of incredulity. “They’re trying to make use of the fact that I’m one of the few Fools on record as helping save Earth’s network.” Dobbs, or Dobbs’ image, shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea. I’m pretty much out of a job.” She looked towards Al Shei without focusing on her, and Al Shei realized the Fool might not be able to see her. Even if the camera were on and Dobbs were processing the signals, would it really be analogous to human sight, or would it be more like reading braille?