Probability Space (3 page)

Train 16 was full of soldiers who whistled and called out to Amanda. Frightened, she let that train go by and waited for the next one. It was empty, and not very clean. Neither was Building T. The fifth level wasn’t, as Amanda had supposed, the fifth story up, but the fifth story down. Traveling on the escalator, Amanda clutched her dance bag tighter. Too late, she realized the name of her school,
SAULER ACADEMY
, was emblazoned on the front. Anybody could have seen it. She turned the bag so the logo was against her body. Her heart was doing strange things, first beating fast, then in slow, painful thumps.

A woman looked at her as she got off the elevator, a bizarre woman with purple hair and flashing lights in her belly button and no top to her dress. Shocked, Amanda looked away. She should leave. This wasn’t right. The woman abruptly laughed, a laugh that to Amanda sounded crazy, scary. She should just leave.

But the woman went away, and just down the dirty corridor Amanda could see an e-sign glowing:
TREVINNO BROTHERS BUY AND SELL. WITHOUT QUESTION
. An animated question mark popped up and was instantly “killed,” over and over. After six “deaths,” more words appeared after
WITHOUT QUESTION
, so it now read
WITHOUT QUESTION THE BEST
.

Even I can tell that’s not what they really mean
, Amanda thought, and that gave her courage. She was smart enough to do this. This shop would buy her diamond without demanding her passport. It would only take a minute, and then she’d race back up the escalator to the train and return to the clean parts of the spaceport. It would only take a minute.

She walked up to the door and it opened for her. The inside was small and grubby, the foamcast walls badly discolored, but relief flooded through Amanda. It was a machine! No people, just a machine to buy things. No one to hurt her.

Almost cheerful, she stepped up to the terminal, which had slots and trays of various sizes barnacled onto its front. “I’d like to sell a diamond, please.”

“Rest the gem on Tray A.”

Amanda hesitated. What if the machine just swallowed the diamond without giving her any money? But if it did that, then Trevinno Brothers wouldn’t stay in business very long, would they? Anyway, she had no choice. She laid her diamond on the tray.

It didn’t get swallowed, but a clear dome settled over it and somewhere machinery hummed softly. The machine said, “Offer: five thousand credits.”

That was a lot less than the library terminal had promised. Could this machine know she was only a kid? Maybe it was a near-AI. But near-AIs were very expensive, her father said.

Surprised at her own boldness, she said, “I want ten thousand credits. A library said my diamond is worth at least that much.”

“Eight thousand credits.”

“All right.” It was enough for the ticket to Luna. And at least she’d gotten it up by three thousand.

Her diamond, still under the dome, disappeared. From another slot came a pile of money chips.

Amanda, grabbed them without counting (machines were reliable, high probability), turned, and ran to the door. It was locked. The window, clear when she’d come in, was now opaque.

“Let me out! Let me out!”

“Not yet,” a man’s voice said behind her. Amanda whirled. “Why, you’re just a little girl.”

She was too terrified to say anything.

“A little girl whore, who suddenly has a huge uncut diamond. Who’d you take it off of, honey? Is he still alive to miss it?”

Amanda started screaming. It was almost as if the screams filled the air with powder as well as sound, because when she tried to remember later exactly what had happened, everything was clouded. But she recalled the man’s hands on her, ripping her mother’s yellow dress, fumbling first at her breasts and then at her underpants. And then there was the sound of ripping foamcast and the wall collapsed, and another machine was in the room. The man let her go and he started screaming. Something or someone picked her up, and she beat at it or him or her with her fists. A great rushing sounded in her ears, like a huge waterfall, and then nothing.

*   *   *

“Drink this,” somebody said, and Amanda did. Immediately strength flowed into her body. She pushed the glass away, sat up, and looked around wildly. A shabby, tiny room with one bed and one chair and one picture on the wall and—

“It’s all right,” said a man standing beside the bed. “You’re safe.” He was short and skinny, with a scraggly little beard at the end of his chin. Dressed in dirty black jeans and shirt, he had the pasty, grayish skin of someone who seldom walked in sunlight.

“Who … who are you?”

“A more relevant question is, who are you? Amanda Susan Capelo, age fourteen, citizen of the United Atlantic Federation, daughter of Dr. Thomas Capelo and the late Karen Olsen Capelo.”

He had her passport. Without thinking she thrust a hand between her legs, felt the blue plastic pouch still there, blushed furiously, and looked away. Something terrible stood in the corner. She gasped, “What’s
that?
”

“That’s my assistant. A very strong, very dumb robot who smashed through that fence’s shop and carried you out of there. Don’t thank it; it doesn’t have sound sensors. It only does what I tell it to by handheld.”

The thing in the corner was seven feet tall, a metal rectangle with three sets of flexible tentacles, built-in gun barrels, and three spray nozzles. Amanda looked at it hopelessly. Tears pricked at her eyes, hot and scalding, but she blinked them back She wanted desperately, blindingly, to go home.

“Don’t cry,” the man said unsympathetically, “because—”

“I never cry!” Amanda snapped.

“—it won’t help. If you’re old enough to go traipsing around a quarter like Building T, you’re old enough to control yourself.”

“I didn’t know it would be like this!”

“Of course not. Now tell me why you were there.”

“You tell me first who you are!”

“You can call me Father Emil. I’m a Catholic priest.”

“What’s that?” Amanda said.

“Oh my dear God,” he said, “you never heard of Catholicism? Not even
heard
of it?”

Amanda shook her head. She actually had a vague memory of the word coming up in history, her least favorite class, but she couldn’t remember any details.

“Stop scowling, child. Do it. Catholicism is a very old religion, and the one true faith in a world that’s forgotten faith. I run the St. Theresa the Little Flower Mission. I rescue lost souls who have fallen into thievery, drunkenness, addiction, or prostitution, which is what I thought you were. An underage prostitute in way over her head.”

Amanda at least knew what a prostitute was. How dare he call her that! “I’m not a prostitute!”

“No, I see that. So what were you doing at a sleazy hot shop?”

She didn’t answer, glaring at him instead.

“Come on, child,” Father Emil said in that same dry, unsympathetic voice, “if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you. What is the daughter of a world-famous physicist and war-pusher doing selling stolen goods?”

“They aren’t stolen! And my father isn’t a war-pusher!”

“Of course he is. The physicist Thomas Capelo, who gave the world the alien artifact that has the power to destroy not only an entire star system but the fabric of space itself. Thereby escalating the stakes in the war with the Fallers from mere destruction of humanity to destruction of the universe which a merciful God gave mankind, all so that egomaniac Stefanak can buy himself power.”

Amanda was confused. Nobody she knew talked like that. The picture on the wall showed a man bleeding on a cross made of wood, in horrible pain. She said stubbornly, “My father only gave General Stefanak the artifact because the Fallers already have one. General Stefanak is using it to protect the Solar System!”

Father Emil snorted. “No use talking politics with a child, especially a child without faith. Just tell me why you were selling goods—stolen or not—at Trevinno Brothers.”

“I need the money.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. No, don’t look away from the painting, child, that’s our dear Lord who died for your sins. Why did you need money?”

“Why should I tell you?” Amanda demanded.

“Because I noticed you, a little girl painted like the Scarlet Whore of Babylon, and followed you to make sure you were all right. Because I smashed into Trevinno Brothers with the Wrath of God here to save you from a truly horrible and probably short life as a slave for the sex trade. Because I brought you here to safety in my mission and gave you some of my restorative drug, which I could ill-afford, when you seemed to be in shock. That’s why.”

Amanda pulled the eight thousand credits from her pocket and threw two thousand onto the cot beside Father Emil. “That’s to pay for your drug!”

“I gave you too much of it, obviously. Manic grandiosity is setting in. But thank you, I’ll take the money in a spirit of meekness, for the greater glory of God.” He pocketed the chips. “Now tell me why you needed money.”

Amanda studied Father Emil. He had given her a drug, he said so, and maybe it
was
making her braver. Maybe it made her not think so well, too. But she felt like she was thinking well again, and he
had
saved her from … that, and he wasn’t trying to take her money. Maybe she could trust him. Besides, what was she going to do if she didn’t trust him? The spaceport was a lot scarier place than she’d imagined.

“You are deciding to confide in me,” Father Emil said. “That’s good. The confessional is a sacred trust.”

Amanda had no idea what he meant. He talked a little bit like her father, whose words sounded normal but sometimes had funny twists to them. “Ironic bitterness,” she had overheard Aunt Kristen say once, but Amanda didn’t know what her aunt meant and hadn’t asked. Her father was just who he was.
Her father
 …

“Don’t start to cry now—”

“I told you I never cry!”

“—or the Wrath of God will return you to that hot shop. Now tell me why you need money.”

She said sulkily, “I have to go to Luna.”

“To Luna. Why?”

“To find someone who can help me. My father’s been kidnapped.”

His eyes widened. Amanda felt a mean satisfaction. For the first time, she’d had an effect on him. He said, “Dr. Capelo? Kidnapped? When?”

“Just a few hours ago.”

“By whom? Do you know?”

“No. I just—”

“Tell me the whole story, Amanda. From the beginning. Don’t leave anything out, even if you think it’s not important.”

She related the events, feeling a relief she didn’t want to acknowledge. A grown-up was back in charge. Father Emil listened carefully. When she finished, he stood and walked to the picture on the wall. With his back to her, he said, “Who were you going to look for on Luna?”

“Marbet Grant.”

“The Sensitive? Why?”

“She’s a friend. I thought she could help find Daddy because she’s rich and she knows a lot of people all over the Solar System.”

He was quiet a long time. Then he turned away from the picture and touched his forehead, chest, left shoulder, right shoulder. Amanda wondered if he had a neurological disease, like Thekla’s mother, who had uncontrollable tics.

“Amanda,” he said, sitting beside her again, “I’m going to help you. You already know you can’t show your passport for legitimate passage to Luna without entering the government deebees. If it
was
government people who took your father—”

“Do you think it was?”

A strange expression crossed Father Emil’s face. He did the tic thing again, and dosed his eyes. “I think God moves in mysterious ways, his wonders for to prove, and He tests our hearts in ways we cannot understand.”

Amanda said impatiently, “What does that mean? Do you think the government took Daddy or not?”

“A tunnel-visioned rationalist. Your father’s daughter. Thus are the sins visited on the children. Yes, Amanda, I think the government kidnapped your father. I also think they will blame it on the antiwar movement.”

“Why
? Why take Daddy?”

“Haven’t a clue. I’m neither a politician nor a scientist, thank the Lord. Was your father working on some new big piece of science?”

“My father is always working on a big piece of science.” Really, Father Emil didn’t know much about scientists.

“Yes. Well. Maybe that was the impetus. Maybe not. The Lord provides.”

“Provides what?” Amanda said, but Father Emil had turned away again. He went to the picture of the bloody man and knelt in front of it, his lips moving silently. On Father Emil’s face was a look of such anguish that Amanda was afraid.

She had studied religion in history class, of course, although history was her least favorite subject and she hadn’t paid much attention. Maybe there had been a religion called “Catholic.” There had been so many. And all of them, her father said, were silly and irrational, which had further decreased Amanda’s interest in them. But she nonetheless knew what Father Emil was doing. He was “praying,” asking “God” for help. Help with what?

Amanda eyed the door. If she tried to leave, would the Wrath of God stop her? The huge metal robot looked as if it could stop an earthquake. And if she did get out the door, where would she find herself? Was she still even at Walton Spaceport?

Before she could decide what to do, Father Emil stood. “Amanda, I’m going to help you get to Luna.”

She should have felt grateful, but something in his voice bothered her. She said cautiously, “Why?”

“Because the Lord does provide in mysterious ways, child. For both of us. I have friends, and they have ships, and you won’t need to show your passport to any government deebee.”

There was something wrong with this statement. Amanda thought, and found it. “But … even if you have ships, they have to be cleared and tracked by a spaceport, and that’s the government.”

“Not entirely. Or, rather, there are spaceport employees who are on our side, and who will enter data that records the takeoffs and landings of the ships accurately, but not who’s aboard or why.”

Amanda was bewildered. She said, “Why do they do that? What do you mean, ‘employees who are on our side?’ Our side of what?”