Mind Over Ship

in Decatur, the Sitrun house.”

“I thought the Homeland Command was responsible for that? That’s what my people told me.”

“The hommers were there too, but they and you would have been cooked without us. With the number of media bees present, it shouldn’t be hard for you to verify this.”

“I see,” the adult head said, mulling it over. “I’ll have Lyra look into it. I have no doubt it’ll be as you say.”

“Thank you. We have always appreciated your fairness, Myr Starke.”

“You’re welcome. Expect to hear from us in a few days.” Ellen spoke with a meeting-closing finality, but the TUGs did not rise to leave. “Was there something else?”

“Yes, myr,” Veronica said. “We know that a quarter-million yoodies is a lot even for someone of your means, and we might be willing to take payment in trade.”

“Go on,” Ellen said, a note of caution creeping into her voice.

“In exchange for a waiver, we’d be willing to apply the full amount toward the purchase of an Oship. Oship 67, to be specific.”

“But you don’t need me for that. Talk to the GEP; I’m sure they can accommodate you.”

“We have spoken to them, myr. They insist that the only acceptable payment for shares to an Oship is the title to land. Our membership wants to expand into space, but not at the expense of its holdings on Earth. We’d rather purchase a ship outright, for cash.”

“But you must understand that land acquisition is the GEP’s sole reason for existing. It doesn’t ‘sell’ ships. It only trades them for land.”

“Thus the waiver.”

“I see,” Ellen said. “I don’t know if I can help you. The GEP is a consortium of thirteen partners, and I cannot dictate conditions to the others.” She smiled mischievously and added, “Except that occasionally I do. Maybe we can help each other. I have a counterproposal for you.”

Oliver said, “We’re listening.”

“Not here. What I have to propose is too sensitive even for a quiet room. A null room would be best, except that I can’t manage to enter one yet in my current condition. Instead, let’s cast proxies and put them into a secure scape.”

The TUGs agreed, and Lyra cast proxies of them, and after testing them for faults, Ellen inserted the datapins into a sequestered player. Then, while they waited for their proxies to meet, arbeitors served another round of refreshments.

Half a continent away, Andrea in her tank asked, What do you make of all that?

We are unsure, E-P said. Ellen Starke’s personality is still too unstable for us to model. Let us ask you the same question. What do you make of it?

Andrea let her impressions wash over her like the bubbly green syrup in her tank. Only a few days ago Starke was convinced that her mother was still alive. Now she admits she is dead. Even with the Protatter drug, that’s a swift conversion. She’s used her current guests for extra-legal tasks in the past. She trusts their discretion. It’s obvious she has a dirty deed for them to perform, but what exactly it is, I don’t know.

TUG PROXIES TENDED to include everything from the waist up and thus they appeared nearly as gargantuan as their originals. Ellen used her adult sim for her proxy, and only its head, shoulders, and one free- floating unattached hand. The proxies faced each other, drifting in an empty space with no up or down.

What is this service that’s worth a waiver, Myr Starke? Oliver-by-proxy asked.

Without preamble, Ellen’s proxy said, I want you to find my mother’s murderers. And after you find them, I want you to destroy them.

The TUG proxies were silent for a long while.

Do you need time to discuss this between yourselves?

No, that’s not necessary, Oliver-by-proxy replied. I am authorized to speak for the charter in matters like this. I’m not sure what has given you the impression that we kill for hire, but even if we did, your request is not that simple. Especially for the class of target you’re talking about. Whoever was responsible for the crash of the Songbird, the murder of Eleanor Starke, and your kidnapping is not likely to be a street thug. You’re talking about a class of bad guy that’s way out of our league. We are not specialists in this area. Then there are the mentars to deal with. Whoever did your mother no doubt has a mentar watching their back. You’d need your own mentar to deal with it, and as you may know, Charter TUG has never sponsored a mentar, so we are lacking in that area as well.

I see, Ellen said. Perhaps, then, you could point me toward an appropriate specialist.

Oliver’s proxy shook its head. That alone would make us accomplices. In point of fact, we recommend that you discontinue your planning along this path, for we are already too closely tied to you, for the service at the Sitrun house and services to Burning Daylight, and any investigation of you will bring the HomCom to our door as well. Even our open visit with you today at your home implicates us in whatever you’re planning.

You don’t seem to understand, Ellen insisted. Someone murdered my mother, and I must make them pay.

Veronica-by-proxy said, I can appreciate your feelings, Myr Starke, but perhaps you will take some advice from people who know something about exacting payment. Murder at the level of Eleanor Starke will have been ordered for practical purposes: a business decision, a power struggle, an ideological disagreement. Don’t think of the killer as an individual but rather as a team. Your natural impulse is to want to kill the whole team, but you can never get them all, and all you accomplish is starting a death spiral of attacks and counterattacks.

It’s much better to take a longer view. Find anonymous ways to hurt the entire team. Cripple them in ways that matter to them. There’s lots of ways to play dirty that are less extreme than murder, a lot safer for you, and more effective in the long run. In that area our charter excels, and we may be of service to you.

But Ellen’s proxy wasn’t convinced. If you do this for me, find my mother’s murderers and kill them, kill as many of them as you can, I won’t sell you an Oship, I’ll give you one.

IN THE MAP Room, the player chimed. Ellen removed the datapins and held them up to the light in her unsteady hand. The paste bulbs were blackened — nuked. “I guess you didn’t like my proposition,” Ellen said. “Too bad.”

IN THEIR CAR, Oliver said, “I wonder what that was all about. Something we wouldn’t touch. And how freakish she looks with that head. Worse than you.”

Veronica let that pass. She was having a hard time getting comfortable in her car seat. She reached around and opened a special flap in the rear of her jumpsuit to let her tail out.

“Anyway,” Oliver concluded, “so much for Plan A. On to Plan B.”

Veronica jabbed her elbow in his ribs. How is our little Plan B. coming along? Did it pass the isolation test?

Yes, forty-eight hours of solitary confinement. Most of the batch survived. We’re interacting with them this week before putting them in for seventy-two.

You look doubtful.

Oliver sighed. We’ve never raised a mentar before, and we don’t know what to expect. Even so, there’s something weird about these.

In what way?