road? Flinx wondered tiredly. How much longer did he have before someone at the Surire installation decided to check on who was using the office, or before Elena Carolles woke up?
“Can you track it to its present location?”
“There is residue.” A pause, then, “I can track it to its last known location, but cannot access it.”
“Why not?” Still agitated, Pip stirred beneath his shirt.
“Because it has been shifted off-world, and I can only access files within this stellar system.”
A ship! The AI confirmed Flinx’s suspicions. That was the end of it, then. Not even a system as powerful as the Terran Shell could access another AI beyond the orbit of Neptune. Not without a special space-minus hookup, and that would only put it in touch with a Shell on another inhabited world. The ship that held the precious syb was truly beyond reach.
But not, perhaps, beyond identification. He made the request.
“The terminus of my search string indicates that the ship shell aboard the commercial KK-drive freighter
Crotase
was the last to hold the illegally transferred sybfile.”
The trail was cold, then, but not dead, Flinx decided stoically. “Where is the vessel in question at this time?” he inquired sternly. “Can you locate its position by accessing company files?”
The AI’s reply was not encouraging. “That would constitute an illegal intrusion into the records of a private commercial concern.”
Once again Flinx strained to make the AI feel, to make it understand. “I
have
to know. You are only following up on an already documented violation of the law.” He brightened at a sudden thought. “These details will be necessary in order for you to generate a proper report.”
“Yes, that is so. This will take several seconds. There are the usual commercial-industrial safeguards. I can bypass them.”
“This
Crotase,
it’s in orbit?” Flinx inquired hopefully. The AI’s reply was not encouraging.
“According to the information I have accessed, it is outbound from Earth and should presently be in space-plus.”
One last hope, one last chance. “Destination?”
“A moment. The safeguards on such information are particularly strong. There. The commercial freighter
Crotase
is on course via the Hivehom vector for the Analava system, Goldin IV, Largess, and Pyrassis.”
“I recognize most of those worlds.” Flinx’s knowledge of galographics had improved considerably in the course of his past several years’ wanderings. “But not Pyrassis. That name is unfamiliar to me.”
“That is not surprising. The entire itinerary is rigidly coded and coated to provide the maximum security of which its generator is capable. The name itself is not given. I have deduced it from the scrambled coordinates that originated within the ship
Crotase’s
own AI.”
“Can you show me the itinerary?”
“Processing.” Within seconds the flat screen floating before Flinx was replaced by a three-dimensional spherical map of the portion of the outer galactic arm that contained the Commonwealth. Tiny lights brightened within and names floated benignly beneath them. There was the well-known Analava system and there the colony world of Goldin IV. Farther still from Earth, the outpost world of Largess. And beyond—much beyond—a world identified as Pyrassis. Flinx leaned forward, his hands gripping the arms of the chair whose malleable material fluxed to accommodate his tightening grasp. No wonder he had never heard of Pyrassis.
The final destination of the Larnaca Nutrition company ship
Crotase
lay within the borders of the AAnn Empire.
Chapter 3
Slowly, Flinx settled back into the chair. It relaxed, but he did not. What in the name of all the topologic inversions of space-minus was going on here? Commonwealth vessels intruded on Empire space on pain of instant obliteration. Military craft in the spatial vicinity traveled with caution, and usually in pairs. Even the neutral Torsee Provinces were
“Can you track it to its present location?”
“There is residue.” A pause, then, “I can track it to its last known location, but cannot access it.”
“Why not?” Still agitated, Pip stirred beneath his shirt.
“Because it has been shifted off-world, and I can only access files within this stellar system.”
A ship! The AI confirmed Flinx’s suspicions. That was the end of it, then. Not even a system as powerful as the Terran Shell could access another AI beyond the orbit of Neptune. Not without a special space-minus hookup, and that would only put it in touch with a Shell on another inhabited world. The ship that held the precious syb was truly beyond reach.
But not, perhaps, beyond identification. He made the request.
“The terminus of my search string indicates that the ship shell aboard the commercial KK-drive freighter
Crotase
was the last to hold the illegally transferred sybfile.”
The trail was cold, then, but not dead, Flinx decided stoically. “Where is the vessel in question at this time?” he inquired sternly. “Can you locate its position by accessing company files?”
The AI’s reply was not encouraging. “That would constitute an illegal intrusion into the records of a private commercial concern.”
Once again Flinx strained to make the AI feel, to make it understand. “I
have
to know. You are only following up on an already documented violation of the law.” He brightened at a sudden thought. “These details will be necessary in order for you to generate a proper report.”
“Yes, that is so. This will take several seconds. There are the usual commercial-industrial safeguards. I can bypass them.”
“This
Crotase,
it’s in orbit?” Flinx inquired hopefully. The AI’s reply was not encouraging.
“According to the information I have accessed, it is outbound from Earth and should presently be in space-plus.”
One last hope, one last chance. “Destination?”
“A moment. The safeguards on such information are particularly strong. There. The commercial freighter
Crotase
is on course via the Hivehom vector for the Analava system, Goldin IV, Largess, and Pyrassis.”
“I recognize most of those worlds.” Flinx’s knowledge of galographics had improved considerably in the course of his past several years’ wanderings. “But not Pyrassis. That name is unfamiliar to me.”
“That is not surprising. The entire itinerary is rigidly coded and coated to provide the maximum security of which its generator is capable. The name itself is not given. I have deduced it from the scrambled coordinates that originated within the ship
Crotase’s
own AI.”
“Can you show me the itinerary?”
“Processing.” Within seconds the flat screen floating before Flinx was replaced by a three-dimensional spherical map of the portion of the outer galactic arm that contained the Commonwealth. Tiny lights brightened within and names floated benignly beneath them. There was the well-known Analava system and there the colony world of Goldin IV. Farther still from Earth, the outpost world of Largess. And beyond—much beyond—a world identified as Pyrassis. Flinx leaned forward, his hands gripping the arms of the chair whose malleable material fluxed to accommodate his tightening grasp. No wonder he had never heard of Pyrassis.
The final destination of the Larnaca Nutrition company ship
Crotase
lay within the borders of the AAnn Empire.
Chapter 3
Slowly, Flinx settled back into the chair. It relaxed, but he did not. What in the name of all the topologic inversions of space-minus was going on here? Commonwealth vessels intruded on Empire space on pain of instant obliteration. Military craft in the spatial vicinity traveled with caution, and usually in pairs. Even the neutral Torsee Provinces were
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