Sarah Zettel - Fool's War

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.

The justice’s eyes flickered from the lawyer to Lipinski. What little color the Houston had in his cheeks had drained away.

“Is that correct, ‘Ster Lipinski?” Muratza tapped the edge of the table with one finger.

Allah the Merciful, keep him steady, prayed Al Shei.

“Yes.” Lipinski coughed. “Yes, it is.”

Muratza did not look convinced. Neither did the pair from the hospital.

“Channel to Pasadena established.” Incili’s voice cut the tension. “Intercom to data hold open.”

“This is Communication Engineer Latius Odel.” The screen on the office wall flickered into life and showed Odel still sitting at Station One. There were empty bags and bulbs crumpled to one side that showed he’d just finished a meal there. “What can I do for you, ‘Dama Resit?”

Someone is going to get a dressing down when the crisis is over, thought Al Shei. Lipinski was notoriously fastidious about his hold.

But Lipinski wasn’t even looking at the screen. He was still staring at the tabletop, and his hands were still twitching.

Resit addressed the screen. “Odel, I need the records of the data transfer between the Pasadena and New Medina Central Hospital.”

Odel peered into the screen as if trying to figure out what was going on from Resit’s eyes. When he found no answers, he turned back to the boards.

“Locating,” he said as he wrote out the orders.

“Send them straight to the open files for Justice Muratza, New Medina police house number eighteen, storage area,” she paused and checked the readout on the table. “FKJ-O126-AT12/C.”

“Down loading.” Odel selected a menu and then tapped the board twice. “You should be getting it now.”

Muratza flicked through the menus on his own board and nodded.

“Thank you, ‘Ster Odel,” said Resit with a shade too much politeness. “Incili, close the line.”

The hospital advocate bent over his own board. Shirar whispered harshly in his ear. Al Shei took advantage of their distracted attention to tap Lipinski quickly on the knee. “What’s wrong?” she whispered as loudly as she dared.

He ran his thumb across his throat in a slicing gesture. We’re dead. Resit didn’t miss the gesture. She made a quick chopping motion below the table. Cut it out.

“All right.” Muratza wrote an order across his board. “Let’s see what you two have to show me.” He settled back in his chair and directed his attention to the closest wall screen.

First came the Pasadena ’s data. Most of the screen was taken up by a recording of Odel’s hands writing orders and activating menus on the Comm Station One board. Smaller squares around the main window gave captions explaining the orders and detailing the movement of the data for each motion, which database was accessed, the size and shape of the packet retrieved, which line was used to transmit it to the surface and the record of how well the transfer proceeded. All of it showed the entire procedure going off with textbook ease.

Then came the hospital’s data. The video scene was similar, except this time it was Lipinski’s hands and the hospital board. This time the procedure was not so easy. Lipinski was running multiple checks on the data’s configuration and its integrity. He initiated spot diagnostic checks as it passed through the board, repeating them if the responses flickered on either side of a zero response.

The hospital advocate’s black eyes glittered. “Any particular reason for the overwhelming,” he drawled the word, “caution, ‘Ster Lipinski?”

Resit drew herself up to her full height. Al Shei recognized it as a defensive maneuver.

“ Pasadena crew made a full disclosure of the virus infection to the hospital representatives.” Resit extracted a film from Incili’s carrying case. “They generated a waiver before they accepted the packet.”

“Yes,” a tone half-way between smugness and righteousness crept into the advocate’s voice. “They generated a waiver for what they were told about.”

Muratza’s face remained impassive at this revelation, but the advocate’s practically glowed with triumph.

Al Shei decided she could take an active dislike to the man if she had the time. She also hoped that the reason Resit was keeping quiet was she didn’t want to dignify the last statement with a reply.

The hospital’s data played on. Lipinski funnelled the data he cleared into the open storage space. The final size and configuration numbers were reached. Lipinski ran through one last integrity check and got a zero reading. He sealed the storage and cleared the line.

The recording shifted to columns of ratios; configured space to unconfigured, used space to empty space.

“This is a record of the monitoring program on the storage space where the data was supposed to be transferred,” said the advocate. “Watch what happens as soon as a tap is attempted.”

The recording showed the raw numbers for a new line opening, and the stats shifted to columns of zeros. No space configured, no space used. Nothing there. Nobody home.

The screen blanked out.

Al Shei couldn’t help herself. She glanced anxiously at Resit. Resit didn’t even look mildly surprised.

She must have gotten a look at it before she got here. Al Shei tugged at her tunic sleeve. Cousin, you’re getting a raise as soon as I’ve got one to give you.

“So, ‘Ster Lipinski,” the advocate folded his hands and rested both elbows on the table. “There were problems in flight, were there? A convenient excuse to get my clients to sign a waiver in case anything untoward happened to their packet.”

Lipinski opened his mouth, but Resit beat him too it.

“‘Ster Justice Muratza.” She faced the justice. “The hospital’s own records show that the data transferred was exactly the data received by the Pasadena , nothing more and nothing less. It is ‘Ster Lipinski’s own precautions that prove that no trace of viral code, or any other uncontracted data could have possibly been transferred down to New Medina.” She cast a withering glance at the advocate and Shirar. “The language on the waiver covers nothing more than a viral infection. The advocate knows this. He is building conspiracies out of thin air. What the records show is that if the data has been erased, it happened after the transfer. I am most appalled at this attempt to blame Pasadena corporation for the hospital’s own error.” She shook her head. “A tragic error, certainly. I understand that packet was a valuable well-spring of information for them, but it was an error nonetheless.” The advocate shifted his weight, but Resit didn’t give him a chance to speak. “The Pasadena Corporation delivered exactly and entirely what Dr. Amory Dane contracted it to deliver. This is verified by the hospital’s own records. The data was placed and sealed in a storage unit chosen by the hospital’s designated representative.” She swept her hand toward Shirar. “With that, our contract was fulfilled and payment became due. What happened after that, however regrettable, is not the responsibility of Pasadena Corporation.”