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Administrative Tower


“Cousin Tocohl, a word, if I may.”

“Of course, Cousin Jen Sin.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, directing his gaze toward the ceiling and the speaker from which her voice emanated.

“Cousin, I ask for the gift of your patience while I tell you a story about a keeper at Tinsori Light before it was rehabilitated.”

“I like stories,” Tocohl said, soothingly.

“I hope you will like this one, but you may not. We might discuss that, after.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“You are familiar with some of this keeper’s history—how he came to the Light, discovered what it was, and deduced that it had seeded his ship, repaired by the Light, with dire hardware and malevolent programs.

“It took the keeper not very long at all to realize that he—repaired by the Light, as well—had likely been seeded with things that did not belong in our universe. He decided to remain on-station, and assist the keeper in residence in her mission to keep the Light from mischief.”

He paused, briefly.

“I will pass over a period of time—how long, I cannot tell you with any certainty. Eventually, though, the new keeper—who had once been a Scout—found information that led him to believe there was a potential ally on-station. Someone who might contend with Tinsori Light on his own field.

“Someone who might defeat Tinsori Light and establish a new and better order.”

He rose and crossed the room, drawing a cup of water from the faucet. Sipping, he sat down in his chair again, holding the cup on his knee.

“Full of hope, where there had been none, and certain in his own reasoning—he had, as I said, been a Scout—the keeper took himself to the breach hall, and there had conversation with the very person his researches had prompted him to deduce.”

“The original station was still alive?” Tocohl sounded startled. “But the original station was not sentient.”

“That is correct. However, the builder foresaw that the station would outlast the timonium-based systems. So, he installed a second system that would require years to mature, yet be ready to take over all station systems before the timonium exceeded its half-life. The secondary system was specifically created to support sentience.”

Jen Sin finished his water and put the cup aside. His head was aching again.

“In any wise, the keeper and the sentience did converse, and during that conversation, the keeper offered the sentience her birthright, and his support, if she would defeat Tinsori Light.”

“She agreed to this?”

“She…hesitated. She was not strong, and there were auxiliary units containing information that would strengthen her position, that had been left by her builder in a nearby storeroom.”

He raised a hand and rubbed his forehead, the memory unrolling before his mind’s eye.

“The keeper undertook to go to the storeroom immediately, and bring one of the auxiliary units to her in the breach hall, to see if she could access what was there.”

There was a bright flash of pain behind his eyes. He paused, waiting for it to subside, then continued.

“The keeper…got into the work jitney, and drove it to the…proper room—a green-striped door. He opened the door, and saw a shelf holding four sealed crates. He…went inside, very excited, you see, laid hold of a crate—and heard a click. Tinsori Light killed him, even as he leapt to avoid the beam. I saw the shadow today, so we have verification at least of that point.”

He took a breath, and another, the pain in his head easing somewhat.

“Jen Sin,” Tocohl said gently, “there are no work jitneys on Tinsori Light, save those Gracie loaned to us.”

“There had been, at that time,” he said, certain of it. “After—the jitneys were gone.”

“Tinsori Light knew that Station had survived?”

“Tinsori Light feared that Station had survived. He may have hunted her, after I exposed her, but clearly she eluded him. I spoke to her again just now.”

Tocohl said nothing. Jen Sin got up and drew another cup of water.

“You are certain that this person you spoke to isn’t Tinsori Light in another guise?”

“I am, but we needn’t rely on my judgment, which you quite rightly call into question. Seignur Veeoni recovered the auxiliary units, and I am told that she has placed them in the room intended to be Station’s core, in such a manner as to allow immediate and unfettered access.”

“But this is Korval’s station!” Tocohl said, sounding distressed.

Jen Sin opened his eyes and regarded the ceiling.

“No, Cousin—recall Commander yos’Phelium’s Field Judgment. The station is her own person; she may not be enslaved.”

“Then—we are evacuating?”

“Possibly not. There is, after all, work in hand, and assistance incoming. We are allies in the work of making the station habitable and safe. To that point, I have asked Station to purge and certify the spinward arcade and dormitories. She is to contact me when she is done, and I will make an inspection. I will also be sending her the files provided to me by the delm, so that she may come to know her ally. In the meanwhile…”

He sipped his water.

“In the meanwhile, I have urged Station to call on you to introduce herself and to find in what manner she may assist you. She states a desire to meet as equals, and would prefer to finish assimilating and integrating the information made available by Seignur Veeoni prior to such a meeting.”

He paused. Tocohl said nothing.

“She expressed concern that she may have offended you by performing this or that small needful task, such as transferring messages, or opening doors—that sort of thing.”

“She could have made herself known,” Tocohl said sharply. It occurred to Jen Sin that his cousin might have something of the clan temper. “Was she behind that—thing in the breach hall that nearly killed you?”

“I expect so. Though you will recall, Cousin, that the defender did not kill me—deliberately.”

Silence again.

“She is also,” Jen Sin continued, “the architect of the avians. She called them messengers. They were created to remind me of our bargain, but of course Tinsori Light had made certain of my memory before I woke again.”

More silence. He finished his water and put the cup on his desk.

“Cousin Jen Sin,” Tocohl said softly.

“Yes.”

“I have perhaps been remiss. You have borne much, Cousin, for the clan, and for the universe. I want you to know that I am—aware of this, and am honored to be of the same Line.”


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Framed