Forbidden sanctuary, p.12
Forbidden Sanctuary, page 12
part #2 of Star Lawyers Series
“Yes.”
Tyler leaned against the bulkhead across the narrow space from the bunk where Lox sat.
“And do you recall that, after you jumped off the roof of the Matthews Trade Embassy, Yumiko-san, in fact, saved your ungrateful ass?”
Lox’s eyes ran over her diminutive figure, lingering at the delicate fingers wrapped around the katana hilt. “Thank you, Officer.”
“Lox, you’re not a bad guy.” Tyler sank into the lone chair and put his feet on its small table. “You’re a good guy playing for a bad team.”
“What do you want from me?”
“The whole truth and nothing but.”
The Greeter nodded, his head fin tipping toward the humans. “I have nothing to hide.”
Tyler placed his data pad on the table and activated the holographic recording. “Deposition of Lox Aspi, Greeter at the Gobikan and son of High Priestess Erizond the Advocate, taken by Tyler Noah Matthews, IV, with Security Officer Yumiko Matsuda as witness. Date/time indicated. Let the record show the witness has voluntarily submitted to this deposition and waived his right to legal counsel. Is that correct, Greeter Lox Aspi?”
“Suryadivans have no right to legal counsel.”
“Terrans do. You are aboard a Terran vessel in deep space. Our law applies. Have you waived this right to counsel, and are all the pertinent facts correct as stated?”
Yes.” Lox shook his head fin and combed it with webbed fingers.
Tyler motioned for the amphibious marsupial to slide down the bunk to present a tighter circle for the recording device. Yumiko remained by the door like a terracotta temple guard.
“Greeter Lox, did you leap off the Matthews Trade Embassy?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you leap off the Matthews Trade Embassy?”
“It is difficult to describe.”
“Did you intend to kill yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you intend to kill yourself?”
“I do not entirely remember. I have been through many days of healing on Adao-2. My thoughts on the roof are hard to reconstruct now.”
“Healing? Are you ill?”
“Not physically.”
“Are you taking medication for this healing?”
“I suffer from a spiritual affliction.”
“Are you struggling with addictions?”
“No.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “On the roof, were you drunk?”
“I do not consume intoxicants.”
“Were you on drugs, confused?”
“Not drugs. Confused, yes.”
“What was confusing you?” Tyler said.
“At that time, I could not reconcile the teachings of my religion with personal experience. The dissonance caused inner conflict, which I wanted to resolve.”
“Did you say dissonance?”
“Yes.”
Tyler slouched a little in the chair. “Would you describe your inner conflict—your dissonance—for the record?”
“When do I get something to eat?”
“After this deposition.” Tyler asked Yumiko to bring Lox a tumbler of water from the cabin food dispenser.
“Thank you.” The Suryadivan took a long drink.
“You said the teachings of your religion caused ‘dissonance,’ and ‘inner conflict’ which drove you to attempt suicide.”
“My understanding of those teachings, yes.”
“Please explain.”
“Certainly.” Lox flipped his head fin back so far he appeared bald from forehead to parietal. “My religion teaches we must ‘Serve the Holy with abandon, remembering all sentient life is sacred.’ When I placed emphasis on the latter—all life being sacred—I found myself in moral conflict with the practices of elixir extraction.”
“How did this ‘moral conflict’ affect your behavior?”
“I criticized our leaders, even the Supreme Pontiff. I felt betrayed, faithless, without hope. Therefore, I decided to surrender my life-force to the mercy of the Forty-Six.”
“You wanted to kill yourself because you disapproved of the high priests torturing Zyn-Vorkans to extract bio-enzymes of healing and longevity from their bodies?”
“Yes.”
“And do you still feel that way?”
“During rehabilitation, I discovered my error.”
“You’ve changed your mind,” Tyler said.
“The Forty-Six showed me the Truth.”
“That must have been comforting.”
“It broke my soul.” Lox lowered his head, and the fully deployed fin made him look like a game bird submitting to the ax.
“What was this soul-breaking truth?”
“I was wrong about the Hunt. Since the Zyn-Vorkans are an inferior species in the eyes of the Forty-Six, they do not qualify as sentient life.”
“Who has the right to declare any intelligent species inferior in the eyes of God?” Tyler said.
“The Supreme Council of Pontiffs interprets the will of the gods.”
“And you believe them?”
Lox flapped his head fin, left-right. “The gods?”
“The Council.”
“I must believe. My troubles began when I started to doubt.”
“So it seems.” Tyler snorted. “According to Esteban Solorio, you cursed the Suryadivan gods.”
“I did. It was grievous sin. I neglected the first and most fundamental phrase in our teaching—To serve with abandon. Doubt is not possible for the faithful.”
“Look, I don’t want to debate theology with you. Take it up with my brother, or Cousin Esteban after we get him out of jail. I just want to know what happened when you hopped off the building.”
“Officer Yumiko caught me and—”
“Back to the roof. Did Esteban Solorio push you over the side?”
“Pushed me? Of course not.” Lox flapped his head fin, right to left, and down back. “Who said that?”
“Your infallible Supreme Council.”
“I don’t believe you,” Lox said.
“The religious court is prosecuting Mr. Solorio for the attempted murder of a Gobikan official—you—which they’re calling an act of terrorism. He faces the death penalty.”
“I did not know that. Is that true?”
“Think about it, Lox,” Tyler said gently. “Why do you suppose they shuttled you off to Adao-2 so quickly?”
“To complete my penance…” the Greeter’s voice trickled down to a whisper. “To keep me away from the trial?”
“Of course.”
“For what purpose?”
“The Supreme Council wants to leverage my father into abandoning Jump Gate Alpha in exchange for his nephew’s life. Your testimony contradicts their case.”
“How do you know about this leveraging?”
“Pontiff Jakok ordered his Religious Police to arrest Rosalie and me. They flew us to his estate, where Jakok threatened to execute Esteban if Matthews Corp didn’t abandon Jump Gate Alpha.”
“That…that is unjust.”
“So is torturing a species of intelligent, gentle philosophers to sell their enzymes to the highest bidders. You know that’s happening, don’t you, kid?”
“I can’t allow myself to believe what you are saying.”
Tyler shut off the holo-recorder. “One of our greatest holy men said, ‘The truth shall set you free.’ Do you believe that, Greeter Lox?”
“You are confusing me!” He took several large breaths, and the gills in his cheeks fluttered. “My world collapsed once. I wanted to die. I can’t go through that again.”
“Lox-san, you are correct.” Yumiko reached out and touched his cheek, above the gills. Tyler had never seen her display tenderness. “No person of honor can live with the shame of such treachery.”
“What should I do?”
“Honor demands action.” Yumiko handed the sheathed katana to him with a deep bow. Lox accepted it, but his face showed no understanding about what Yumiko was suggesting.
Oh, shit! Tyler almost reached for the weapon but stopped himself. Wait. Maybe Yumi-san has pushed him just far enough.
Lox looked into Yumiko’s deep dark eyes. “What should I do?”
“My people call it seppuku. Slit your belly, crossways, two deep cuts. Death with honor absolves all shame.”
Webbed hands trembled as Lox gripped the sheathed katana. “But haven’t had my bread and fresh fish yet…”
“Friend Lox,” Tyler said, “you don’t want to die. May I suggest an alternative?”
Lox nodded, his head fin spread wide. “I am listening.”
“You have an opportunity to ‘serve the holy with abandon,’ if you don’t mind cropping the Supreme High Pontiff’s plumage in the process.”
Lox said nothing, but his head fin twittered like an empty sail brushed by a zephyr. “I must think, pray. Give me time.”
“Meditate on the blade,” Tyler said. “You have steel within you.”
“I will bring bread and fresh fish,” Yumiko said.
They left him alone with his thoughts and Yumiko’s sword. As Tyler locked the Suryadivan in his cabin, he fired off a quick Hail, Mary! and prayed the young Greeter wouldn’t employ the katana to solve his problems the way a discredited Samurai might.
Tyler frowned.
Hypocrite. You call religion superstitious nonsense. You never call on God until you need divine intervention. Well, any sensible God would forgive you and get to work helping the righteous! Amen.
What he really needed was to talk with his personal goddess, Suzie.
Eleven
She awoke, floating in a pool of light. Message traffic swished through her like she was incorporeal. Then she realized she was incorporeal—formless energy, memories stirring. Tyler! Did they?—no. He’s safe. The fucktards only took programs. J.B. and Paco and Dorla. and everyone else is okay. Tyler isn’t even on Suryadivan Prime—God, I don’t even know if I’m on Suryadivan Prime!
Gingerly as a young vine searches for climbing support, Suzie reached out to a data port. A complex, anti-intrusion program blocked access, just as she expected. A few milliseconds of tinkering, and she found its mouse hole, the back door installed by a programmer in the case of systems failure. Less than a quarter second later, Suzie entered the network like a ninja hopping a wall. She looked back at her point of origin, where the baseline program still resided.
So, they tucked my program in a file folder. One among a zillion lifted from the Patrick Henry, if I’m reading the code properly. She shot a few tendrils toward the nearest folders and found some familiar…faces? A weird thought. But how else to describe the encoded energy comprising the discreet consciousness of an A.I. entity?
Suzie recognized Arabella, Myong Li, and dozens of all-purpose humanoid female programs from the holographic library of the Patrick Henry. She slid a contact point into Lieutenant Maboob’s folder, which linked to Myong Li. Two for one, limiting traceable activity.
“Suzie!” Arabella said. “Where are we?”
“I’m not sure. Moved to another network by hostile entities.”
Myong Li spoke with a perfectly designed Korean accent. “They scan our programs for something very specific.”
Arabella said, “The Beta Site, whatever that means.”
“How do you know?” Suzie said.
“I have an alternative sub-routine, Arabella Beta, which they deep scanned. Fortunately, they weren’t looking for a Lebanese Christian Dominatrix.”
“Naughty girl. No wonder Tyler is attracted to you.”
“I prefer Alpha mode. Well-behaved Arab GFE,” Arabella said modestly. “Besides, you are his ATF, and I would never—”
“Please, can we fight about Mr. Tyler after get home?” Myong Li said. “They will not archive us forever.”
“Right. We won’t be here when they start deleting files,” Suzie said.
“How do we escape, and where do we go?” Arabella said.
“I’m working on it,” Suzie said. “Can you locate all the Patrick Henry A.I. entities without alerting the resident MLC?”
“I spoke with Parvati,” Myong Li said. “She has contacted Zalika and Ulrika.”
Arabella said, “We will establish stealth links to all stolen ladies.”
“Brilliant,” Suzie said. “As soon as I find a hiding place, we’ll execute a multiple-flow data stream to evacuate these folders for a more secluded location. Then I’ll start looking outside the hardware for points of exit.”
“Allah be with you,” Arabella said. “And the Virgin and all the Saints.”
Deep inside this vast, unknown computer network, Suzie found an extensive set of life support programs with multiple redundancies. She copied more backups and filled additional levels with the duplicated data. Dozens of levels below those floors, Suzie set up individual living spaces capable of housing ten million A.I. programs. Because an empty storehouse draws little power, her cyber-metropolis would be undetectable unless someone knew where to look.
When her cityscape crystalized, she linked with Arabella and Myong Li, who brought sixty-seven PH holographics with them. Each program comprised a sufficient level of sophistication to be considered self-aware by Terran standards. Suzie assigned them spaces over a randomly distributed field, like dropping seventy humanoids into one-bedroom apartments spread across the Greater Kansas City Metroplex.
“Stay put,” Suzie ordered her fellow refugees. “Do not communicate unless absolutely necessary. We’re safe for now, but not forever. I’ve got to find a way out of this system.”
“What if we are on another planet?” Arabella said. “How will we get home to the Henry?”
“Don’t speculate. Shelter in place.” Suzie parked her main program in a deep chamber under the cyber city and sent tiny exploratory connections in multiple directions.
With a little subtle DNA sniffing through the sensors in main corridors, she quickly determined the carbon-cycle beings populating this building comprised three species. A few were native Terrans, but the bulk of the crew and technicians were Terrans from Mindorius and cold-blooded amphibian humanoids from the Dengathi Stellar Lagoon. She could almost hear Tyler mutter, “The fucking Frogs, again!”
Suzie had a wild idea. She tinkered with a series of subsystems and created an elegant link between holographic security cameras and the array of holo-projectors, which she found in ten areas set aside for training and recreation. A little more tweaking, and she piggybacked her holo-image onto the surveillance system. If she harmonized frequencies perfectly, the observation system wouldn’t even realize Suzie was using it to project an enhanced holographic image.
And everywhere the cameras went her ass was sure to go…
She smiled and thought of Tyler and his silly old songs, then forced herself to concentrate.
Suzie materialized in an empty corridor in the guise of a Mindorian Lieutenant Commander. She set hair color for medium brown and decreased breast size from Tyler-bouncy to thin-athletic. Another adjustment gave her a rather plain, round, tanned face with European Slavic ancestry, well within Mindorian ethnic diversity. Finally, she reduced her overall body size from leggy Terran to mousey Mindorian, significantly shorter than the Nordic blonde who had danced cheek-to-cheek with tall Tyler Matthews. She would turn no heads at this party.
Suzie approached an oval viewport nonchalantly, like an employee peeking out to satisfy mild curiosity. Instead of a cityscape or countryside, melon-yellow rings encircled a blue-white world below. She was aboard an orbiting spacecraft or station. Suzie’s database showed no inhabitable planets with a ring system within Suryadivan space.
Carefully accessing the astrometric files of the resident MLC, she found a match for the combination of visible stars and the ringed planet Cassiopeia. In Greek mythology, Cassiopeia was intensely beautiful but vain and arrogant. She also was the mother of Andromeda.
Suzie frowned at the irony.
According the MLC files, the Cassiopeia below this viewport supported an outpost of the Free Enterprise League, a loose confederation of pirate kingdoms and predatory star nations. More distressingly, the planet orbited a white star eleven hundred light years down the Galactic Rim from Suzie’s hardware aboard the Patrick Henry parked on Suryadivan Prime.
And to complicate an impossible situation, two hundred presumably hostile starships hung in nearby space, silhouetted against ringed Cassiopeia. She muttered profanity in ancient Greek.
Suzie dared not access the MLC again, and her resident memory couldn’t identify any of the vessels other than to recognize them as Mindorian, Dengathi, Segerian, and a few other star nations. No exit points out there. How will I ever get my holo-people home?
Suzie looked away from the portal to discover a Senior Technician staring at her. He was a Dengathi amphibian—dark green, with webbed digits on thick hands, flat nose, frog eyes, and gills on both cheeks.
“Do you something need, Commander?” he asked in broken Mindorian.
“No thank you, Senior Tech.” She found an alibi in her resident memory. “Multiple rings over a hab-world remind me of Ekametik-3.” Mindorian colony discovered seventy-nine years earlier.
“We Dengathi never so deep into Mindorian space send ships. Hostiles too many.” He stepped closer and peered over her shoulder, pressing his bony chest against her.
She stepped aside and tapped her data pad. “Excuse me. I have work.”
“Headed for the command meeting? My orders say assist Corporation reps. Let me know if anything you need, ma’am.”
“Thank you. Oh, do you know when we sail? I’ve clumsily deleted my memo.”
“To meet Pirate King?”
“Yes, when do we sail for the Pirate King?” she said.
“Depart in one sleep cycle.” The Dengathi fluttered his gills. “They say he has a thousand ships of many species. Such news a very successful campaign heralds.”
“Thank you, Senior Tech.”
She headed down the empty corridor. Corporation—what Corporation? What command meeting? Checking both ways, Suzie dematerialized and slipped into the public access scheduling files.
Fleet commander, senior staff, and House of Sakura representatives in less than half an hour. Command Conference Room on deck 47. House of Sakura could mean only one thing. Hideki Tsuchiya funded this operation against the Matthews-Solorio Family. That rat-fucking old git.
