Chapter 25
1924 Words
25
Scout ran back through the phalanx of kids reaching out to touch her, to catch at her clothes, to drag smooth fingertips across her cheek.
But none of them tried to hurt her. They didn’t even try to stop her. She ran back up the narrow staircase to the corridor that led to the bridge, children following along behind her. She could hear the soft soles of their training shoes as they moved.
She was supposed to hear it. She knew with certainty that if they wanted to be silent, she would never know they were there. Not until it was far too late.
She reached the top of the stairs and glanced to the left, towards the bridge. She flinched back as she saw Shi Jian waiting for her there, leaning against the wall of the corridor with her arms crossed and watching Scout with a twisted smile on her lips.
But the kids were still running up behind her, and the bridge wasn’t her destination anyway. She grabbed the doorway to spin out down the corridor to the right, then kept running down the long halls of warm wood paneling and cheerfully flickering lights. It was like the world around her was blithely unaware of her terror.
The kids stayed close at her heels even as her steps slowed with weariness. She was sure they were built to run forever. But they weren’t trying to catch her. They were herding her. Every time she reached a cross corridor, one of the larger kids blocked the way that didn’t lead back to her apartment. They had no visible weapons and weren’t even standing in a fighting stance, but that didn’t fool her. They were giving her only one way to go.
Scout finally reached her apartment, clawed her way inside, and shut the door behind her. She fell back against it, catching maybe half a breath before the dogs were all over her, jumping on her and pawing at her and barking to get her attention.
“Okay, dogs,” Scout said breathlessly. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”
She turned to look at the door. No lock. Not that she would have been any safer with a lock, not if these kids were anything like the ghosts that had stalked her back on Amatheon. Those kids had moved through the ceilings, unseen. There were a million ways to get inside her apartment beside the door.
Still. Scout grabbed the edge of her dining table and dragged it across the floor to push it up against the door.
Illusion of safety or not, she felt better.
“Warrior!” she called when she realized her AI tutor had vanished.
“Here, Scout,” Warrior said, appearing in the sitting area.
“What’s going on? You said Bo was in the library, but he wasn’t. Did he move?”
“No. I don’t know. I detect no problems with my connection to the ship’s systems, and the systems tell me he is working on his tablet in the library. And yet he was not there.”
“What about Shi Jian? Can you see where she is?” Scout asked.
“I see that she is still in the corridor near the bridge,” Warrior said.
“But if she was spoofing the system—” Scout began.
“Then she would probably choose to make herself still appear in the last place you saw her, yes,” Warrior said. “Very astute, Scout.”
Scout scoffed. Strange time for her AI to remember it was supposed to be her encouraging teacher. “Can’t you do anything to help me?” she asked.
“I don’t have a physical form,” Warrior said.
“I didn’t mean fight. Could you watch over me while I sleep?” Scout asked.
“I don’t require sleep myself,” Warrior said, “but I have no means to wake you if you are asleep. I can’t make you hear me if your brain is sleeping.”
“That’s inconvenient,” Scout said.
“You lack an aural implant,” Warrior explained. “I can make you hear me through an auditory projection. It sounds like it’s coming from where you see me, but it originates from the box in your belt pouch. Since this requires visual input to line up, you can’t hear me if you can’t see me.”
“But if I sleep with my glasses on—”
“The visual input will be broken the moment you close your eyes.”
“Very inconvenient,” Scout said. She just hoped her little kitchenette had enough jolo to last her for the next four days and nights.
This time Scout was awake on the couch to see the artificial sun grow ever dimmer until there was only the soft, silvery glow of the light strips that formed an oval around the park. Scout could see just a few short bands of it from between the tree branches, but it was bright enough to light up her sitting area like a full moon.
She drank bottle after bottle of jolo until her hands were shaking from the caffeine, but still her eyes wanted to close.
One time she knew she did fall asleep, but she was startled awake by the sound of someone moving through her garden. She went to the glass doors to look out. She saw nothing, but she knew someone had just been there. Her lenses compensated for the low light, but there was nothing there. The lenses could show her other things, but without a cranial implant to direct them, the lenses had to guess what she wanted. She could see temperature scales and distance markers, but nothing useful.
Someone had been there, making just enough noise to wake her. And she knew they had wanted her to hear them, to wake up in terror.
They were going to be sure she didn’t sleep. And they were going to be sure she stayed afraid.
Many sleepless hours later, the ceiling over the park began to glow again, dimly at first, then brighter than the light bands, until eventually it was like full sunlight again. The birds in the trees resumed their chirping.
The dogs woke, yawning and stretching, in no particular hurry to get up. Scout walked with them out into the garden and looked around as the dogs did their business.
There was a single muddy footprint in the center of her patio, perfectly formed.
Scout whistled for the dogs to come back inside, then to their dismay closed the glass doors. Just like the door to the corridor, these doors had no locks.
Scout made toast and poured more kibble into the dog’s bowl. She found coffee, a nice break from the jolo, and sat down with her toast and coffee at the dining table. She took a bite and, still chewing, said, “Hello, Teacher.”
Then Warrior was sitting across from her as if she had been there all the time. “Good morning, Scout,” she said. “Is all well?”
“You disappeared again,” Scout said.
“You fell asleep,” Warrior said.
Scout took a long gulp of coffee. “Is Shi Jian still in that hallway we saw her in?”
“The systems tell me so,” Warrior said.
“I guess we can assume that’s a lie.” Scout sighed and then rubbed at her face. Her hair spilled around her everywhere. She had no bangs; everything had grown out to the same length, falling halfway down her back. She brushed it back from her face and separated it into thirds to braid it.
“I can’t stay awake for three more nights,” Scout said.
“Three nights?” Warrior asked.
“Until we get to galactic central,” Scout said. “Rona said it would take five days.”
“It would, yes, if we were moving,” Warrior said.
“What?” Scout asked, losing control of her hair. It unraveled and fell around her shoulders. “What do you mean? We’re not moving?”
“I don’t think we are,” Warrior said. “Unless the system is lying to me about that as well.”
“I think it’s more likely it would say we were moving when we weren’t,” Scout said.
“I agree,” Warrior said. “The most likely reason is that there has been another legal snafu that must be cleared up before we can proceed. Our current position is still within the barricade.”
“And the Months?”
“Their ship as well.”
Scout growled in frustration. “How can they stand this bureaucracy?”
“As Bo Tajaki told you, it does beat the alternative. I have extensive training in the law if you would like to start your education there.”
“That sounds a bit above my level,” Scout said. “And I couldn’t focus now anyway.” She started braiding her hair again. “Is there any way I can get back to the other ship, back to Geeta and Emilie? Is there a shuttle here I can steal or something?”
“Do you know how to fly?” Warrior asked her.
“No,” Scout said.
“Then I don’t think so.”
“Well, can I get a message to them? Emilie can fly, and Liam’s ship is still in the hangar on board the Months’ ship,” Scout said.
“The only channel of communication you have with them is through the tribunal enforcers,” Warrior said.
“What does that mean?” Scout asked. “I mean, consequences-wise?”
“The lawyers on both sides will see any communication you send, as well as Bo and the Months,” Warrior said. “They each will have to clear the message before it can move forward.”
“So they can stop it from reaching Emilie,” Scout said. “But even if it did get to her, the Months could just stop her from taking the ship. So that’s out.”
“I approve of your reasoning,” Warrior said. Scout resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“Wait,” Scout said, clutching the end of her braid to keep it from unraveling as another idea struck her. “The tribunal enforcers will relay messages to the other ship, but what if I wanted to contact someone else?”
“Like who?” Warrior asked.
“Like John Carlo and Mary Grace Torres?” Scout said. “They are lawyers, friends of Liam McGillicuddy’s. We were trying to get to them in the first place when we were caught by the Months.”
“Lawyers,” Warrior said. “Do they have a stake in this matter, or are you looking to solicit them as your own counsel?”
“Huh?”
“To hire them to be your lawyers,” Warrior explained.
“Both, I think,” Scout said. “This business the Tajakis want us to do, testifying on their behalf—I think that’s what the Torreses wanted us for in the first place.”
“Have they filed legal motions?” Warrior asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Then certainly you should contact the tribunal enforcers directly.”
“Will the lawyers and everybody see that message too?” Scout asked.
“Certainly. But as the entity you are asking to take action on your behalf is the tribunal enforcers themselves, it won’t matter. The others can’t stop it.”
“How do I contact the tribunal enforcers though?” Scout wondered. Then she remembered the tablet on her belt, the one that had belonged to Gertrude Bauer.
The one Scout had used to contact Liam McGillicuddy in the first place, before she had even met him, to ask her to come take her away from her home world.
“Will this work?” Scout asked, holding up the tablet.
“Should do,” Warrior said. “Compose your message; I’ll help you send it. Remember, in legal matters like this, it’s best to be thorough.”
Scout nodded and opened a new message screen on the tablet. She thought for a moment, then started typing. Minutes ticked by as she typed, telling the whole story from beginning to end.
She rather thought that, like Bo and the Months, the tribunal enforcers knew large parts of her story already, but she told it all anyway.
When she was done, she looked up at Warrior, who rattled off a long designation for Scout to type in the address field. When she was done, she hit send and sat back with a relieved sigh.
A sigh she didn’t even get to finish before the tablet beeped at her.
“It says it didn’t send,” Scout said.
“Perhaps you missed a digit in the address?” Warrior said. “Inverted two characters?”
“No, the error doesn’t say the address is wrong,” Scout said. “It says there’s no open channel. What does that mean?”
“That is galactic marshal equipment. It operates on its own designated channels,” Warrior said. “It’s not possible that there’s no open channel for it.”
“So what does it mean?” Scout asked.
“It means your signal is being jammed,” Warrior said.
“By the woman who is still standing in the corridor outside the bridge, right?” Scout sighed. “How do we fix it?”
“Well, that’s the tricky part,” Warrior said.
“Tricky how?” Scout asked. “It’s more than just throwing a lever or something?”
“Oh, it’s exactly just throwing a lever,” Warrior said. “But the lever is on the bridge.”
Scout looked down at the tablet still displaying her error message. “Oh,” Scout said. “I’m starting to think the system isn’t lying to you about where Shi Jian is.”
“Almost certainly not,” Warrior concurred.
- Writer
