Sarah Zettel - Fool's War

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.