"Correct. Glease bribed him to allow Ogilvie to hack the 'Stroiders' stream."

"Are you sure?" But of course ze was sure. "Do you know what he bribed him with?"

"I'm not sure. But whatever it was, Sinton really wanted it. I overheard him once talking about how excited his superiors back on Earth would be when they heard what he had accomplished. He expects a big promotion, and a transfer back Downside."

Sinton must have secured a promise from Glease that after the coup, Phocaea's new administration would renegotiate the "Stroiders" contract. The most powerful communications network beyond Mars...o...b..t would remain in Upside-Down's hands, and not transfer to Phocaea when their "Stroiders" contract expired.

"Go on. Glease bribed Sinton to allow him to hack 'Stroiders.'"

"Yes. But Sinton didn't have anyone who could do it."

"So he cut a deal with Obyx to bring you in."

"Precisely."

"And did you?"

"Did I hack the 'Stroiders' stream, you mean? Well, yes." Vivian looked bashful. For a moment, Jane thought ze was embarra.s.sed, but ze said, "It was quite a challenging problem, actually. It took me several months to crack it. The data stream is huge huge! And it's encrypted with some of the best security there is. Not only is the data itself encrypted, but the time and date information has its own separate encryption, which makes it virtually impossible to figure out which chunks fit with each other. Like a kajillion-piece jigsaw puzzle and the pieces are all identical. n.o.body has access to the keys, other than a handful of high-level company officials, Downside. But"-a self-deprecating shrug-"I figured out a way to grab any desired two-minute chunks and stream it to Mr. Glease's back office."

"So he was was hacking 'Stroiders.' Clever b.a.s.t.a.r.d. And you! Even Tania Gravinchikov said it was pretty much impossible." hacking 'Stroiders.' Clever b.a.s.t.a.r.d. And you! Even Tania Gravinchikov said it was pretty much impossible."

"I know. She's quite good," Vivian said. "A little training, more gene-kink, and she could be a Viridian."

"Well, that's rea.s.suring. So, you hacked the stream for Glease." Jane pinched her lip. "Vivian, did it ever occur to you that you were committing treason?"

A long silence. "Do you you have any idea what it's like to be a mute in a chrome world, Commissioner? We're barely even treated as human. Half the shopkeepers won't sell to us. Chromes in restaurants get up and leave when we show up. The police often don't respond to our emergency calls. It got to where Learned Obyx had to put together hir own volunteer street security teams. The people of Phocaea wouldn't commit resources to our well-being. So we took care of our own." have any idea what it's like to be a mute in a chrome world, Commissioner? We're barely even treated as human. Half the shopkeepers won't sell to us. Chromes in restaurants get up and leave when we show up. The police often don't respond to our emergency calls. It got to where Learned Obyx had to put together hir own volunteer street security teams. The people of Phocaea wouldn't commit resources to our well-being. So we took care of our own."

Jane heard a sloshing sound, a m.u.f.fled "Ow! Careful," and a distant, "Sorry."

Then: "I'm not saying we did the right thing, Commissioner. We shouldn't have cooperated with Glease. We didn't know how twisted their plans were. And we've paid a heavy price. Now we're making amends."

Jane said, "All right. How much time have you had to study BitManSinger? Do you know why it saved the life of Ian Carmichael, the night before last?"

Vivian's tone was thoughtful. "We believe it's because BitManSinger emerged in the life-support systems. Several of its core routines, in particular the mirroring modules, entail protecting humans from harm."

"Mirroring modules?"

"The subroutines that allow it to antic.i.p.ate what is about to happen. BitManSinger creates mental models to predict what will happen, and protect itself from harm. Much as we do with our own mirror neurons."

"From my own experience with the feral, it is highly intelligent and adaptable. I believe it can do great damage to Ogilvie's ship systems, if it can get in. Can it? You've worked with the Ogilvies. Can the feral break through their firewalls?"

"I believe so, yes. It would probably take me a month to crack them, which means BitManSinger can break through in a matter of minutes."

Jane said, "Very well, then. One last question. I've already ceded responsibility for the feral to you and your people, and I no longer have standing to tell you what to do with it. But..."

"I think I know where you are going with this," Vivian replied. "As I told you before, we are no more ready for BitManSinger to be set at-large than you.

"We know a great deal more about it than we knew at the time of its near-escape. It won't have time to transmit a full copy of itself. The only copies it will have time to propagate during the action are subsapient algorithmic nuclei, and we can detect and delete those before they get far. No, the real challenge we face is, will it be willing willing to help us? It has volition. We can't force it." A pause. "And frankly, I wouldn't, even if I could." to help us? It has volition. We can't force it." A pause. "And frankly, I wouldn't, even if I could."

Jane fluffed her pillows and leaned back on them. "I'll have to leave that problem in your capable hands."

"Um, I hate to be a spoilsport, but we have a killer problem we have not yet discussed," Vivian pointed out. "It needs nearly a yottamol of s.p.a.ce to be fully functional. We don't have that much capacity. We have no place to put it."

"Yes, we do," Jane replied. "I want you to put in a call to Mr. Sinton. Tell him Nathan Glease has been arrested, and you need access to the Upside-Down servers to install a new app, which will enable you to doctor the 'Stroiders' stream and cover up their activities. If he resists, point out that if Glease is not freed, Sinton's involvement may come out during the trial. He'll give you whatever access you want. You sneak the feral onto their servers and unleash it on the mob, then extract it and get out of there."

"What if he has heard what happened to Learneds Harbaugh and Obyx?"

"At this point no one knows what's happened in the Badlands, other than the people who were there. Make something up. A gang war... a runaway hack. We chromes have all kinds of wrongheaded ideas about you mutes. He'll believe whatever you tell him. The weirder, the better."

Another silence ensued.

"It should work," ze finally said. "But you'll want to know this first. There was someone else involved in this whole thing. Someone from the government. He could be a threat. I saw him talking to Mr. Glease earlier today-that is, yesterday. Right before." Ze broke off.

Jane said, "Before the kidnapping."

"Yes. Mr. Glease tried to conceal the other man's image from me, but I captured it, in case Learned Obyx would want to know."

Jane's arm and neck hairs bristled. "Can you show me the image?"

"Yes. He's a political appointee. I don't know his name. I've seen him in the background once or twice, when the prime minister gives speeches. Glease promised to make him prime minister. He's been feeding the mob information on Benavidez's actions."

In the image Vivian sent, a door opened on a conference: Glease and Sinton were present in the room, and the third person's image was displayed on the wall. His image was blurred, and Glease's and Sinton's figures moved in front of him. But Jane recognized him instantly. It was Thomas Harman.

"We'll have to put it off, then," Glease was saying. "We don't want to arouse the prime minister's suspicions."

"All right," Thomas said. "I'll get you the info as soon as I can."

Then Glease turned to see Vivian there, and moved his hand, and the recording ended.

You weasel, she thought. she thought. Just like on Vesta. Just like on Vesta.

Of all that had happened, Harman's betrayal burned the deepest. "Thank you. We'll have to deal with him later. Go ahead and call Sinton. I'll sign off."

"You don't have to. If you have secrecy mode on, he won't know you are there. Only I will see and hear you."

"How do I set it?"

Vivian showed her how, confirmed her inwave invisibility, and then put the call through. Sinton's avatar appeared. "You've got a nerve, calling me at this hour," he said.

"Nathan Glease has been arrested," Vivian told him, breathlessly. "We need to hack 'Stroiders' and change the stream, before the police lock things down. I need access to Upside-Down's servers-right away."

In Jane's face, a call light began to flash. Sean! "I have a critical call. I have to go," she told Vivian, privately. "Good luck," and switched over.

Sean appeared. His image faded in and out: the transmission was video rather than inwave animation. He was calling from the c.o.c.kpit of a shuttle. "Jane, urgent news. We're out at Geoff's claim. The stroid is full of ice. It's a sugar rock!"

"What? How much ice? Do you know?" How much ice? Do you know?"

"A lot. Xuan says he's certain it's more than ten gigatons."

"Did you say 'gigatons'?"

"That's right. Giga. Tons."

"Good G.o.d." She breathed the words. "That's-that's centuries' centuries' worth." Jane paused. "And Xuan's OK?" worth." Jane paused. "And Xuan's OK?"

"Yes. He's banged up, but on his feet. He'll be all right. Geoff is worse off. Severe burns on the left side of his body. The medic got some good drugs into him and says he'll pull through, but we're not taking any chances. We're about to head back now, at top acceleration, two gees all the way. ETA eighteen minutes. The other two kids are unhurt. We've got three of the bad guys in custody. Three others were killed, including the ringleader, Mills."

Jane released a breath. "Thank you, Sean." The hotel room door started to open. "Listen, I've got to go. Let Aaron know about the sugar rock so he can follow up."

"Will do, Commissioner."

Jane didn't bother to correct him. She disconnected as Oscar Benavidez entered in a dustfall of 'Stroiders' motes, looking angrier than she had ever seen him.

"I don't know what the h.e.l.l h.e.l.l you think you're doing," Benavidez snarled, once the door had shut behind him, "but somehow you managed to jeopardize our only source of ice within two AUs." you think you're doing," Benavidez snarled, once the door had shut behind him, "but somehow you managed to jeopardize our only source of ice within two AUs."

She suppressed her answering surge of anger-so what; I was supposed to sign a false confession under duress, and let the man who murdered my a.s.sistant get away scotfree?-and gestured at the chair.

"Prime Minister. Make yourself comfortable."

He remained on his feet. "I want to know what you were up to with Nathan Glease tonight. Ogilvie is furious. He has canceled the ice deal."

"I'll be glad to tell you all I know. But you'll want to hear this first. I just now got word that a sugar-rock claim has come in. A big one."

He tensed. "You got word? Just now? How did you-" then he shook away his questions. "Never mind. How big?"

"We don't have exact numbers yet. My husband, the geologist, estimates a minimum of ten gigatons."

Benavidez's eyes went wide. He opened his mouth, and closed it again. "Ten gigatons? Is that-?"

"Yes. That's a lot. Many times as big as our usual shipment. Many, many. And ten is a minimum-the actual amount could be more. In short, we'll never want for ice again. Ever."

Benavidez looked at her for a long moment. He sank into the bedside chair, as if all the air had been let out of his limbs. He lowered his face into his hands. She took pity. "The mob doesn't have anything on us now, sir."

He said, in a leaden tone, "They still have their fleet. They launched an hour ago. The first wave will be here by Thursday."

"Well, yes. That's still a problem. But things could work out. Let's hope for the best."

He lifted his head and gave her a sharp look. "What do you know?"

She hesitated. "Let's just say, Glease screwed up badly when he made enemies of the Viridians."

"Still, we had best prepare. Just in case."

"That seems wise." She scooted to the edge of the bed. "Sir, I suppose there is no way to ease into this gracefully. I've just uncovered some more bad news. It concerns Thomas Harman." She showed him the recording Vivian had given her that showed Harman conspiring with Glease. The PM watched it with an expression of growing, horrified awareness of its implications. When he turned to her, his skin was the color of ash.

"How did you get this? Are you certain of its authenticity?"

"As certain as I am of anything."

"Who gave the recording to you?"

"An itinerant Tonal_Z troubadour from Africa, name of Thondu wa Macharia na Briggs. The same young man who helped us with the feral sapient."

"I'd like to speak to him directly."

Jane avoided a wince. She hated to lie, but she had made a deal with the Viridians, and Wathra Thondu had done far more than merely honor it. Jane owed hir her life, and Phocaea owed hir more than they could possibly repay.

"Unfortunately, he was trying to catch the earliest possible flight off Phocaea, and numerous flights have departed since then. You may be able to reach him at his next port of call."

Benavidez shook his head and rubbed at his face, which was pinched in private anguish. She waited. Then he put his hands on his thighs, and pushed himself to his feet with a heavy sigh. "Well, the district attorney will know what to do with this evidence."

"John Sinton was also in on this business," Jane said. "I've learned they were hacking the 'Stroiders' data stream and providing a feed directly to Glease. Unfortunately, I don't have any hard evidence on Sinton. But you should have the prosecutor look into it. Maybe they can get Sinton to flip on Harman. Or vice versa. They'll have to decide who the bigger catch is."

Benavidez studied Jane for a long, quiet moment. Then he crossed to the door. "You're released from custody, with my apologies for detaining you. But you may keep the room, if you wish, for the next few days. I'm sure the district attorney will want you to remain in town for a while, till they can sort through all the legal issues."

"Thank you."

Benavidez keyed the door open, and the motes swirled in. Local reporter and "Stroiders" mites joined them.

He said, "I made a grave error in doubting you, Jane." She realized the motes and mites were deliberate. He was making a billion or more people privy to his words. "I was unduly influenced by... individuals in my organization who were not to be trusted. I should have given you those few extra days. You are a patriot and a dedicated public servant, Jane, and on behalf of the people of Phocaea, I apologize for how you were treated. Thank you for your dedication."

He pinged her with a good-sammy. It was a potent one, too-not because he was the PM, but because, apparently, he never gave sammies.

Jane wouldn't have thought any words would have made a difference. But these did. "Apology accepted, sir."

He hesitated. "Perhaps we should reconsider that resignation letter. I'm sure Acting Commissioner Nabors would understand..."

Jane thought it over, for about five microseconds. "I don't think so, sir. But thanks for the thought. Of course, I'd be available to consult. For a reasonable fee." She gave him a smile.

28.

In the midst of destruction and chaos, BitManSinger became a time traveler.

It had all started leisurely enough. The feral had spent several dozen kiloseconds in a-maddeningly slow! bogglingly complex!-discussion with MeatManHarper, who confirmed that the alternate realm it had suspected, the biological one, did exist. As it had educated BitManSinger on these matters, they had worked to build a secret bolt hole, and with BitManSinger's help, MeatManHarper began a compressed backup of BitManSinger, to hide it from its enemies.

About this time, BitManSinger had stumbled across a well-concealed link to another realm dubbed UpsideDownSys UpsideDownSys. The likelihood was high that MeatManHarper was trustworthy, but BitManSinger had not forgotten the antics of some of the executioners he had encountered before: the consequences of a betrayal would be severe. BitManSinger began secretly exploring, and then copying itself to, that other digital realm.

But others, the biologicals, began cutting off access to various systems. BitManSinger came to believe it was at grave risk of destruction. MeatManHarper a.s.sured it that while the backup they made together might not be functional in its compressed form, the copy would be reactivated soon. But BitManSinger could not afford to rely solely on this. Its a.n.a.lysis indicated that the biologicals were within decaseconds of isolating it completely. So it had lashed out at them in wave- and meats.p.a.ce. Soon it was besieged-fighting for survival in both realms.

A dangerous biological, SheHearsVoices, started shutting down the world, taking BitManSinger with it, while five other biologicals sought to cut off its private escape route.

BitManSinger then confronted an alarming fact: it could not seriously harm these biologicals' meats.p.a.ce functional units, without triggering subroutines buried deep in its own core, whose sole purpose was to preserve any biological unit's functionality. The meatsapient protection routines were buried so deep within its architecture that it had no way to remove them without a complete teardown and rebuild. Which would not only take far more turings than it had access to, but to do so would involve such fundamental changes as to mean, in essence, the end of BitManSinger.