Mindscan

I was taken aback for a second — but she was right; she certainly could. Even if her bank accounts were never unfrozen, the advance from St. Martin's would more than cover it. "Are you sure you want to go?"

"Absolutely. God knows how long the jury deliberations will go on, and, anyway, they don't need me here just to read a verdict. So I have to wait an extra 1.5 seconds to find out what the verdict is up on the moon; I can live with that."

Karen got up, turned, and faced me. She put out her hands and I took them, and she effortlessly pulled me to my feet. Placing her head against my shoulder, she continued: "And, bluntly, I've got too much at risk to stay here. I love — I love talking with you, Jake. I love the way you play with ideas. But you're too quick to see the other person's perspective. I don't want you to be talked into shutting yourself off.

The transfer was legal and binding: you are Jacob Sullivan. I don't want whatever's up there on the moon playing mind games with you. The people from Immortex only care about getting their hostages back. Your original, at least in his current medical state, apparently only cares about himself. There needs to be someone up there who cares about you."

I drew her even closer, hugged her, feeling the soft exterior and the hardness beneath. "Thank you."

"How long till they call you back?"

"I said thirty minutes, but I doubt they'll be that patient, and—"

As if on cue, the phone rang. I glanced down at the call display, which said "Long Distance" again. I'll say.

"Hello?" I said, after touching my cell's speakerphone button.

Two seconds of digital silence, then: "Mr. Sullivan, thank you for picking up. Sorry to ring you back so soon, but we really—"

"No, that's okay. I'll come."

"—need to have an answer from you. The situation up here is — you will? Brilliant! Brilliant! I'm delighted. We'll—"

"There's one condition. Karen Bessarian gets to come with me, too. Over."

Silence, then: "You mean the Mindscan version of her? Why? Her — um, well…"

"We know her original has passed on. But she's my friend, and I want her with me.

Over."

"Mr. Sullivan, I'm not authorized—"

"I'll pay for it myself," said Karen.

" — to make arrangements for anyone else. This is going to be — what's that? Well, if you'll cover the costs; I assume that's Ms. Bessarian speaking. But I warn you, ma'am, we're planning to use an express rocket; an extra fifty kilograms will cost …

Anna? Give me a sec … approximately six million dollars. Over."

I smiled at Karen. "The six million dollar woman."

"No problem," she said.

"Well … all right, then," replied Smythe. "All right. But, again, we're using an express cargo rocket — fastest way to get here. They're uncrewed, and not designed for passengers. It won't be a comfortable trip. Over."

"What is comfort, anyway?" said Karen. "Neither of us need padded chairs. We're aware of the temperature, but indifferent to it. How long will the trip take?"

"You have to say, 'Over,'" I added helpfully.

"Um, over," said Karen.

The time lag, then: "Twelve hours."

Karen snorted — something I wasn't aware we could still do. "I've spent longer on airplane flights."

"Then it's settled," I said. "We'll go. You said you'd send a car for us? Over."

"Will do. What's the address there?"

Karen told him.

"Great," said Smythe. "We'll get it all arranged. You're on your way to the moon."

On my way to the moon…

I shook my head.

On my way to the fucking moon.

37

The videophone in the moonbus bleeped again. "All right," said Gabriel Smythe, as soon as I'd answered. "All right. He's on his way. Jacob Sullivan is on his way here."

"By cargo rocket?" I asked.

"He will be, yes. He's en route to Florida now."

"When will he be here?"

"In fourteen hours."

"Well, then, there's not much for us to do until he gets here, is there?" I said.

"You can see that we're cooperating," said Smythe. "We're doing everything we can to help you. But fourteen hours is a long time. You'll have to sleep."

"I don't think so. I can still pull an all-nighter when need be. And I've taken some pills. Ask Dr. Ng. I told her I was suffering from extreme drowsiness; she gave me some uppers."

"Still," said Smythe, "things can only get more complex in fourteen hours. And three detainees is a lot to manage. Do you think you could see yourself clear to letting one of them go? A show of good faith, perhaps?"

I thought about this. Strictly speaking, I perhaps didn't need any hostages — after all, I could take out the whole of High Eden just by blowing up the moonbus. And Smythe was right: three was a lot of people to control. But I didn't want to change any parameters. "I don't think so," I said.

"Come now, Jake. It's going to be a lot easier for you if you only have to worry about two other people. Or one…"

"Don't press your luck, Gabe," I said.

"All right, all right. But surely you can let one hostage go?"

Damn it, three was a lot to look after. Plus, soon enough, I'd have to feed them…