of it yourselves?”
As we said: politics. They are among us, but nevertheless shielded from us. They are like terrorists hiding among your own population. You cannot reach them without causing pain and suffering to innocents. Likewise, we cannot eliminate our own dangerous factions without tremendous suffering.
I thought of Bringen’s hunger for a scapegoat. “And is this known to my people?”
It is suspected by some.
“Just like I suspect that none of what you’ve said to me qualifies as an official statement.”
Of course not. What good will it do relations between our people and yours to have it known that the true instigators of these crimes are currently beyond human reach? As your superior Bringen told you, you simply need to find a guilty party. Any guilty party. And this remains well within your current powers.
There was that word current again. They were certainly going out of their way to tease me with possibilities. “I won’t pick a name at random.”
We are not expecting you to. After all, your prosecution does need to stand up to later examination. The most relevant culprit, operating with substantial support from our extremist faction, is indeed a human being aboard this station.
“The same one who sent me those images of my own death.”
Correct. With, of course, the substantial technological aid of the extremist elements among our own people.
“The same one who taunted me as my hammock fell apart.”
Also correct.
“Whoever it is had a tremendous amount of personal information about me. Even some things I didn’t know, about some plans my superiors have made for me.”
Assuming you give those stories credence, a risky venture given that the criminal in question will say anything to throw you off your stride, we’re not surprised. You are here to make an arrest. Your saboteur would have had a significant amount of time to consult the considerable intelligence-gathering capabilities of our rogue intelligences, obtain the voluminous amount of information already compiled about you, and with that information on hand, construct a powerful campaign of psychological warfare, intent on forcing you off the case.
“Those hate mails I received, and that attempt on my life, strike me as more than just strategy. That’s obsession.”
True. But would that be incompatible with the kind of mind capable of committing these crimes in the first place? In human terms, this individual is broken, in ways that you are merely bent. If he, or she, recognized this while researching the prosecutor arriving to investigate the murders aboard this station, then the natural resentment that would follow could only exacerbate the obsessive potential of the delusional pathology responsible.
Terrific. I was fighting somebody who made me look like a paragon of mental health. “And that other voice I heard up there? The one that sounded like my superior, Artis Bringen?”
That was us. We imagined you would respond most quickly to orders from him.
It bothered me, on a deep, personal level, that they were probably right. “You didn’t have to stop with that. You could have sent help. Or summoned somebody for me.”
We could have, but that would have meant direct conflict with the rogue intelligences. There were, as we have said, political subtleties at play here, which rendered that inadvisable. It was enough that we startled you awake and gave you a chance to confront the moment on your own.
“I almost died.”
And we would have been saddened. But this needed to remain a fight between human beings.
Good point; I needed an enemy I could touch. “You know the name.”
Of course.
“Then, for Juje’s sake, tell me!”
We have already helped you, Counselor. We have warned you of impending attempts on your life. We have spoken to you, in the voice of your immediate superior, to alert you when such an assault was under way. We have intervened when you tested our goodwill with that maneuver in the skimmer. We have given you one small gift and have worked, hard, to provide you with another. We intend on offering you an even greater boon upon the conclusion of this business. We take all these steps because we consider you an important human being whose desires have been known to mirror ours: hence our prior observation that we have much in common. We look forward to discussing that with you later, at length. But right now the delicate politics of the matter prevent us from just providing you with an actual name. As convenient as that would be, there are too many impartial factions, inside us, who are observing these events with great interest in their natural resolution, and who would object if we overstepped the limits of our own prescribed involvement. So we are forced to operate within those impartial boundaries.
“So this is a game. I’m fighting for my life inside an arena.”
As in most diplomacy. Very much so.
I hesitated. “Which brings up the question. How much help can I count on from you? If they go for me again?”
You cannot count on us to rescue you, Counselor. Our situation is difficult and growing more difficult the longer this situation remains unresolved. We may not be able to intervene in such a timely manner again.
We fell into an uncomfortable silence. I drifted in the glowing blue void, intensely aware of the delicate microcurrents as they nudged my helpless form this way and that. It could be taken as movement, but it was far from progress, and it brought me no closer to any of the walls that defined the shape of this place. My breath, though controlled, sounded ragged to my ears.
I was silent for so long that I felt the gentle touch of air currents, carrying me toward the exit. A dismissal, but not one I was ready for, just yet. “My presence here was requested.”
True.
“Bringen said you asked for me yourselves.”
True.
“He also said Gibb asked for me. But he denies it.”
True.
“Did he?”
Yes.
“Why is he lying?”
He’s not lying. He doesn’t know he asked for you.
Silence. “How can that be?”
Also irrelevant to your current investigation.
Damn them. “You keep saying that you respect my gifts. Even that we have motives in common.”
True.
“You even said I would meet my Unseen Demons.”
Yes.
“The ones who drove the colonists crazy on Bocai. The ones who made me do the things that ruined my life.”
Your life can still be salvaged, Andrea. But yes. That is true.
My voice broke. “Your rogue intelligences are my Unseen Demons, aren’t they?”
I already knew what they were going to say. But when they gave me their answer, just before I drifted out through the hatch, it still stabbed me through the heart.
Yes, Andrea Cort. They are.
