Quivering in a bundle of fabric, I retreated inside my own head to formulate my escape plans. A compulsive filer, I threw every image I could recall into a new and palatial memory mansion: from my interrogator’s face and his precise phraseology to the expression on Lady Cybelle’s face as Deacon Dennett explained our situation to her. Dennett’s speech, too, went into the closet. Had there been something shifty-looking about his expression? I pondered for a minute, then decided to revisit the question later.
While I was busy establishing a sound foundation for future schemes, I noticed a couple of reminders waiting for me. Cousin Andrea’s dump—I had been ignoring it ever since I came aboard the chapel. I kicked myself mentally. I’d become so caught up in the day-to-day issues of survival and work that I’d gotten into the habit of postponing it. Knowing Andrea, she’d babble interminably and take me on a tour of the architectural plans for a new records wing of the palace I once called home: But, I now thought, could it be a complete coincidence that a large message from her had arrived so soon after Ana disappeared? Well yes, probably it could. But a firm of space pirates had departed Taj Beacon in hot pursuit and hijacked a church on flight, seemingly just to get a chance to ask me where Ana had gotten to; and there was the small matter of my stalker, whoever she was and wherever they’d hidden her, and of the double game that Dennett had so recently betrayed—
Suddenly, Andrea’s missive took on a whole new significance.
Andrea leans against the railing of an ornamental bridge, facing the cameras that define my viewpoint. She has dressed as if for a formal occasion and looks serenely pleased with herself; she stands at the center of a classically composed stage, nonchalant and beautiful.
(I describe it as I see it unfolding in my mind’s eye. However, the scene is captured in ancient light: Andrea could be dead by now, for all I know. It’s a rehearsed briefing, delivered to the camera’s vision years ago, then encrypted for my eyes only and relayed from beacon to interstellar beacon until it caught up with me at Taj.)
“I’m afraid we’ve had a little bit of a screwup at this end, and news of it is going to catch up with you not long after this message. Summary is: Do not proceed to Shin-Tethys. In fact, stay away from Dojima System entirely. Cancel your upload, just write it off and don’t go.”
Andrea inhales deeply, her chest rising and falling as she flushes her gas-exchange surfaces. (Many of these reflexes of ours date back to our Fragile ancestors; archaic and not really useful to our refactored bodies, but one dabbles with redesigning the autonomic nervous system at one’s peril.) She pauses to compose herself—evidently upset—before continuing:
“Word of the existence of the Atlantis Carnet appears to have leaked. I’m not sure who blabbed, and whether it was just a loose tongue or something more serious (although I’ve got my suspicions), but there was an attempted burglary at the family archives just over five days ago.”
(I forced myself to resist the impulse to sit bolt upright at that point but froze the message while I forced myself to understand the significance of the bomb Andrea had just detonated. After a moment, I resumed the recording . . .)
“The burglar in question was a zombie. It penetrated security by impersonating a young sister, Michaela—I don’t know if you knew her. Unfortunately, whoever sent the burglar abducted her, and we assume that they murdered her for her security tokens. She—the impersonator—was caught attempting to penetrate the secondary archive vault. When Valia’s security auditors examined the corpse, they found it in possession of this.”
Andrea extends her cupped left hand toward me. It cradles the small black nub of a soul chip. “It contains metadata identifying it as Sondra’s private key, but the contents are scrambled. As the burglar hadn’t made it into the vault when she was stopped, we assume that the intention was to substitute this forgery for the contents of the vault. Which in turn suggests that whoever sent the burglar is attempting a sophisticated fraud against the bank’s long-term-deposit archive, and might be fully informed about our earlier successful copying of the Atlantis Carnet. If you proceed from GJ 785 to Dojima, there’s a very good chance that you’ll run into someone sent to relieve you of it. And if they’re ruthless enough to have abducted and murdered Michaela, it’s reasonable to suppose that your life is in danger. Not to mention Ana’s.”
Oops.
“I’m trying to track down the source and extent of the leak. If I can work out what got out, and who knows about it, I’ll let you know. But for the time being, if you wish to continue your pilgrimage, it is probably safe to go directly to Shin-Kyoto and commence your scheduled study year with Elder Shibbo. Doing so will probably suffice to warn off your pursuers. Ana, however, is less lucky and will have to make arrangements for her own security. We all need to lie low for a few years, and she may be stuck in Dojima System. I have sent a warning similar to this one directly to her; if it reaches her in time, she should have time to seek sanctuary. I told her that if it’s safe for her to do so, she should head for Shin-Kyoto with anything she’s found and meet you there—”
(By this point I had stopped listening and was swearing violently under my breath, oblivious to the possibility that my abductors might overhear my indecorous words. I paused the message again and forced myself to breathe deeply. Then I dived back in to finish it.)
“In summary, dear sis, you should avoid Dojima System and Shin-Tethys in particular like the plague. Ana will either have to escape on her own or . . . we may very well have to abandon the game, hide out, and pretend none of this ever happened. I’m sorry, but there’s no alternative. Do take care, get yourself to safety, and remember to write!”
I killed the message and opened my eyes, taking in the twilit constriction of my makeshift oubliette. Then, after some seconds or minutes of bleak near despair, I began to update my notes.
Dear Reader.
Andrea told me to write, so I’m going to write, but not in any expectation of her ever reading this. I’m keeping this in a securely encrypted notepad in my repository chip. The simple truth is: While I am indeed a mendicant scholar on a pilgrimage between the fellows of my order, most of what I told Deacon Dennett and his conspirators was a pack of lies. Which is entirely fair insofar as he lied to me, shamelessly and extensively. (If the priestess Cybelle had been at the helm, it would have been far more unlucky for me; priests and priestesses don’t need debuggers to dig information out of you. But my inference is that Dennett took advantage of the accident aboard the chapel to arrange a bloodless mutiny and this circumstance left him at a disadvantage: He might have known that I held a valuable secret, but he had no simple tool for digging it out of me while I was in his clutches, and I slipped through his fingers before he had time to grow desperate.)
I even managed to conceal my purpose from the pirates, for they seem to be mostly interested in Ana’s insurance policy rather than in my secrets. Or perhaps Rudi was honestly telling the truth when he said he wasn’t allowed to pry them out of me using a debugger. (I wonder what she insured herself for, to provoke the underwriters to such drastic action?) Given the nature of this affair, it’s not surprising. We are engaged in a battle without honor or humanity. People behave very oddly when the ownership of large quantities of money is at stake. Some—as we have seen—will commit murder or send out shape-shifting zombie assassins. I am not that ruthless. However, here I am, running around into the cold and unwelcoming universe at large, having adventures—something I loathe and fear, for the definition of an adventure is an unpleasant and possibly unsurvivable experience—in the hope that Ana and I might be able to wind up an ancient business venture and in so doing finally free ourselves from the shadow of our mother: For redeeming the Atlantis Carnet will tarnish her good name irredeemably.