"We're just pets! What happens when we become a nuisance?"
"How could you become a nuisance?"
The answer was there without considering it: "By losing our respect for Ship."
There was no reply.
This cooled her anger. She sat in silent contemplation for a moment, then: "Who are You, Ship?"
"Who? Not quite the proper term, Hali. I was alive in the minds of the first humans. It required time for the right events to occur, but only time."
"What do You respect, Ship?"
"I respect the consciousness which brought Me into your awareness. My respect is made manifest by My decision to interfere as little as possible in that consciousness."
"Is that how I'm supposed to respect You, Ship?"
"Do you believe you can interfere with My consciousness, Hali?"
She let out a long breath.
"I do interfere, don't I." It was a statement, not a question.
With a sudden sensation of sinking, as though the realization occurred because she let it happen and not because she willed it, Hali saw the lesson of the Hill of Skulls.
"The consequences of too much interference," she whispered.
"You please Me, Hali. You please Me as much as Kerro Panille ever pleased Me."
"Hali!"
It was Ferry's voice shouting at her over the pribox speaker at her hip. "Get to Sickbay!"
She was out the concealed hatch and halfway down the storage aisle before she realized she had broken away from Ship in mid-conversation. Ship had spoken personally with very few people, and she had the impudence to jump up and leave. Even as this thought flashed through her mind, she laughed at herself. She couldn't leave Ship.
Ferry met her at the main hatchway into Sickbay. He was wearing the heavier groundside blue and carried another suit of it under his arm. He thrust it at her and Hali saw then that the suits had been fitted for helmets of hazardous flight.
She accepted the suit as Ferry thrust it at her. The old man appeared to be in the grip of deep agitation, his face flushed, hands trembling.
The groundside fabric felt rough in her hands, so different from the shipcloth. The detachable slicker and hood were contrastingly slippery.
"What'.... what's happening?" she asked.
"We have to get Waela offship. Murdoch's going to kill her."
She was a blink accepting the import of his words. Then doubts filled her. Why would this fearful old man oppose Murdoch? And by implication oppose Oakes!
"Why would you help?" she asked.
"They're demoting me groundside, sending me to Lab One."
Hali had heard the rumors of Lab One - clone experiments, some wild stories, but Ferry was visibly terrified. Did he know something definite about Lab One?
"We have to hurry," he said.
"But ho.... they'll catch us."
"Please! Put on the groundsides and help me."
She slipped the clothing over her shipsuit and noted how bulky it made her feel. Her fingers fumbled with the slicker's catches as Ferry hurried her into Sickbay.
"We'll be gone by the time they suspect," he said. "There's a freighter leaving in four minutes from Docking Bay Eight. It's carrying hardware, no crew - everything on automatic."
They were at a Sickbay alcove by now and, as he pulled aside the curtains, Hali suppressed a startled question. Waela lay on a gurney, already clad in groundside slicker with the hood pulled down over her brow. Her swollen abdomen was a blue mound under the slicker. How had Ferry brought her here?
"Murdoch had her brought down here as soon as you were relieved," Ferry said, grunting as he wrestled the gurney out of its alcove. Hali moved to unhook the monitor connections.
"Not yet!" Ferry snapped. "That's the signal to Bio that something's wrong."
Hali drew back. Of course; she should've thought of that.
"Now, hook up your pribox," Ferry said. "People will think we're moving her somewhere for more tests." Ferry folded the groundside hood under Waela's head and covered her with a gray blanket. She stirred sleepily as he lifted her head.
"What did they give her?" Hali asked.
"A sedative, I think."
Hali looked down at her groundsides, then at Ferry. "People will take one look at our clothes and know something's wrong."
"We'll just act as though we know what we're doing."
Waela jerked in her sleep, mumbled something, opened her eyes and said: "Now. Now." Just as quickly she was back in her sedated sleep.
"I hear you," Hali muttered.
"Ready?" Ferry asked. He gripped the head of the gurney.
Hali nodded.
"Unhook her."
Hali removed the monitor connections and they wheeled Waela out into the passageway, moving as fast as they could.
Docking Bay Eight, Hali thought. Four minutes. They could make it if they were not delayed too long anywhere along the way.
She saw that Ferry was guiding the gurney toward the tangent passage to the docking bays. Good choice.
They had taken fewer than a dozen hurried steps when Hali was paged.
"Ekel to Sickbay. Ekel to Sickbay."
Hali estimated two hundred meters from Sickbay to their goal. They could not trust shiptransport internally. If Murdoch was a killer, if she had figured him for less than what he revealed himself, then placing themselves in a transit tube would be disaster. He could override the controls and have them delivered like salad to his hatchway.
The gurney's wheels squeaked and Hali found this irritating. Ferry was panting with unaccustomed exertion. The few people they passed merely observed the obvious rush on medical business and squeezed aside to let them pass.
Once more, she was paged: "Ekel! Emergency in Sickbay!"
They skidded around the corner into the passage to the Docking Bay and nearly overturned the gurney. Ferry grabbed for it and prevented Waela from sliding off.
Hali helped to settle Waela as they continued pushing toward Number Eight. They were passing Number Five and she could see the Eight down the passage ahead of them.
Ferry, reaching under Waela's shoulder as they moved, pulled out something which had caught his eye.
Hali saw him go pale. "What's that?"
He held it up for her to see.
The thing looked insidiou...small pale tube of silver.
"Tracer," Ferry gasped.
"Where was it?"
"Murdoch must've tried to feed it to her, but he didn't stick around long enough to be sure she swallowed it. She must've spit it out."
"Bu...."
"They know where we are. The biocomputer can track this through the body, yes, but it can also track it anywhere in Ship."
Hali grabbed it out of his hand and threw it behind her as far as she could.
"All we need's a little delay."
"This is as far as you go, Ekel!"
It was Murdoch's shrill voice almost paralyzing her as he stepped out of the Number Eight hatch just ahead of Ferry. She glimpsed a laser scalpel in his hand, realizing he could use it as a weapon. That thing under full power could sever a leg at ten meters!
***
As the Jesuits recognized, a key function of logic limits argument and, therefore, confines the thinking process. As far back as the Vedanta, this way of tying down the wild creativity of thought was codified into seven logic-directing categories: Quality, Substance, Action, Generality, Particularity, Intimate Relation and Non-existence (or Negation). These were thought to define the true limits of the symbolic universe. The recognition that all symbol processes are inherently open-ended and infinite came much later.
THE HYLIGHTER with Thomas cradled in its tentacles vented a brief undulating song and began a slow drop into blue haze. Thomas felt the tentacles enfolding him, heard the song - was even aware that Alki was beginning its long slide into sunset. He saw the dark purple of the meridian sky, saw the side-lighted brilliance of the blue haze and a surrounding rim of steep crags. He saw all of this and still was not sure of what he saw, nor was he entirely sure of his own sanity.