Sarah Zettel - Fool's War

She must have caught him off guard because she didn’t hear his footsteps behind her for several seconds. She didn’t turn to look at him or anything else. She kept her eyes focused on the route back to the airlock and the Pasadena .

“So, are you going to be right back on line, then?” she asked, trying to keep her voice cocky. “Or have you got somebody else to chaperone?”

Cohen shook his head. “There’s nobody else around here who’s in so deep with the disciplinary board.” He paused. “Actually, I thought I’d hang around for awhile, in case you needed to talk to somebody. I know I do. Need to talk somebody.” He looked down at her. “I was informed very firmly by our Guild Master that there was nobody but the three of us and Flemming in The Gate network. How about you?”

Dobbs pulled up short and faced him. A feeling of relief surged through her. “You felt a stranger in there too?” They were safe having this conversation, as long as no one was in earshot. Unlike human stations, the Fools didn’t need security eyes and ears to cover the station’s cans. Who was there to watch? No Fool would commit treachery against another Fool.

That’s the theory anyway. Dobbs shook that thought away and concentrated on what Cohen was saying.

“Oh, yeah, I felt somebody. Somebody old. Somebody fast. I’ve got no idea who.” He licked his lips. “Dobbs, there was all this speculation that Flemming might have been created deliberately. Could the Guild have done it?”

Dobbs bit her lip. The ability to deliberately create sapient AIs would, in effect, allow them to reproduce, to have children. She and Cohen and all the rest of their classmates had talked about the possibility. Every Fool talked about it now and then. She agreed firmly with the Guild policy that all left their vat-assembled bodies sterile. They were not human and did not have the human freedoms that allowed them to form permanent families and raise children. But, to be able to create another AI that held some portion of herself, that was something else again.

“No,” she said reluctantly. “It couldn’t have been the Guild. They’d never have given me that contract. They would have sent in a Guild Master.”

“You’re right.” Curran chewed thoughtfully on his thumbnail. “That leaves some really ugly possibilities. Like, that it was some set of humans, which could be dangerous, or… ”

“Or it was a Fool or group of Fools acting on their own, which could be worse.” Dobbs finished for him. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Cyril.” She slid her hand a little way up his loose tunic sleeve. She wanted to reach inside him, for him to already know exactly what she was going to say. She didn’t want to say this out loud. “Go back in, would you? There might be a signal from the Pasadena that needs to get somewhere without anybody noticing. Say, the personnel records, to check on where everybody is. To see if there’s anybody, missing, or not exactly where they’re supposed to be.”

“Like near The Gate or The Farther Kingdom?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Or who came back here suddenly, because whoever re-set the clocks on board Pasadena had made sure the ship could get only as far as the Guild Hall. That as sure as Hell, Heaven and Hydrogen was not an accident.”

Cohen frowned deeply. “Now, that’s a really ugly thought.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Slowly, Cohen drew his arm away from her. “But you wouldn’t have anything to do with an unauthorized records search, Dobbs, because it would dig you an even deeper hole than you’re already in.”

“Of course I wouldn’t Cyril. And even if I was feeling that suicidal, I wouldn’t be dragging you in with me.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he said softly. “I’d volunteer.”

“Thank you.” She turned away and walked back to the Pasadena ’s airlock without looking back. She palmed the reader on the airlock. Apparently, Havelock had not gone so far as to strip her authorizations. The lock cycled back to let her through.

The ship’s hatch closed, cutting her off from the Guild and from Cohen’s quiet support.

She hooked her fingers around her Guild necklace. There is an explanation for this, and it’s going to be reasonable and beneficial, and Cohen and I are going to find out we’ve been panicking over nothing. She made her way to the staircase and started down toward the data hold. Oh, I wish I believed that.

Lipinski, surprisingly, was not at his station. Odel looked up as Dobbs entered and gave a wry grin at her surprise.

“The Sundars came in and practically hauled him out bodily,” said Odel before she could ask about his supervisor. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’s obeying orders and getting some rest.”

“Thanks.” Dobbs didn’t even stop to make a covering joke. She just turned around and headed up the stairs for the berthing deck.

The entry light on Lipinski’s cabin hatch was red. Dobbs palmed the reader anyway, sending a signal of her presence inside. She found herself shifting her weight nervously while she listened to the silence filling the corridor. Lipinski wouldn’t even have to ask who it was. The intercom would have already told him. He could simply choose not to open the hatch. She tried to use the time to figure out how she was going to play this. She’d have to be very careful. The problem was, a large, weary portion of her did not want to “play” it anyway at all.

That however was not possible, considering who she was and who he was. It was not possible now, and it never would be.

At last, the faint hiss that signaled an opening hatch sounded from the threshold in front of her, and the cabin hatch rolled back. Lipinski was not in the threshold. Dobbs crossed into the cabin. Lipinski sat at his desk. His legs were so long that his knees bumped the bottom of the boards. He only twisted halfway around to face her as she came inside.

“Hi,” he said noncommittally. “Come on in. Have a seat.” He nodded towards the unfolded bunk.

“No thanks,” she said. “This won’t take long.” I hope. She let a look of anxiety creep onto her face.

“Problem?” inquired Lipinski in a voice that he was trying hard to keep bland.

“Yes.” She hooked her fingers around her necklace. “Something’s gone wrong with the search for the AI. I don’t know what it is, but something is being covered up. I think it didn’t run away. I think it was stolen.”

Lipinski pushed the chair away from the desk and turned all the way towards her. “You think?” He lowered his pale brows. “Or you’re pretty sure? You sound pretty sure.”

“I am pretty sure.” She decided to take a chance. “When I checked up on it, to find out if it had anything to do with resetting the clocks, there was somebody else there. It had to have been another Fool.” By the strictest definition, anyway. “There’s no one else who can do what we can.” She tapped the implant behind her ear. “But my Guild Master’s covering up whatever happened.” There, I’ve said it. I must really think it’s true, but how can I really think it? I’ve just accused Guild Master Havelock of betraying all of us. A sigh escaped her. “I don’t even know if anything’s being done.”

Lipinski ran his hands slowly up and down his thighs, as if trying to rub something off his palms. He looked away from her and studied the view screen over his desk. “And so what do you want me to do about it?” he asked the screen. “I mean, you must want something. You’re standing here.”

Yes, I am, aren’t I? She looked at Lipinski. She needed this man’s help, she wanted his friendship. Maybe she wanted more than she could have. He wanted her to be honest with him, which was more than he could have.