“Dionte?” Gossett gripped her hand. “Do you want your message, or do you just want to stand and stare while the world falls apart?” He waved his free hand back toward the lab. “We haven’t even got the containment measures for Stem and Branch swarming yet, and I do not like some of the projections I’m seeing for when we do. We do not have good models for this approach. We need you here. Now.”
Dionte took a deep breath. Patience, patience, she told herself. He does not understand yet. None of them but Basante can understand yet, but I will rectify that. Then we can bring back Eden and we can deal with the Called.
Then Basante’s sacrifice will mean something.
She forced her fingertips apart and focused on Gossett. “Yes, I would like my message. Forgive me, Cousin, there is so much going on.” She gave him a weak smile that she hoped he interpreted as the result of overwork.
“Dionte, when this is over, you need to get your Conscience checked. I think some of those modifications are backing up on you.” Gossett shifted his grip so that his palm laid over her data screen to transfer the data he carried for her.
“I promise,” she agreed, drawing her hand back. “As soon as this is over.”
Gossett smiled, his Conscience no doubt chiding him for being so cross, and left her to return to his own work, but Dionte did not miss the look of relief on his face as she made her promise. That was not good. She could not have the others worried about her.
Something twisted inside her at that thought and she looked down at her hand display for something new to concentrate on. It looked like a simple report of chemical renewal rates in the mote cameras near Stem, but Dionte recognized the patterns. This was from the tailors.
Dionte frowned. This should have come straight to her. How had it come to Gossett?
How far gone was I?
She ran her fingertips over the display. It took a few seconds for her subsystems to absorb the code and transmit it to her Conscience for translation.
Chena Trust made it to Stem, whispered her Conscience. But the constables lost her. We have her under watch. If there are terms, we can deliver her back to you.
Chena Trust in Stem. Dionte’s hands clasped together and she did not even try to stop herself. Yes, they had tracked her that far while Dionte had been in her meeting with the committee. Chena Trust free and in Stem with the information she had seen in the records. Fresh certainty dropped into Dionte’s mind like a stone.
Chena Trust would find Eden.
A hundred scenarios flashed through her. What if she sent a message back, trusting the tailors? What if she just ordered the mote cameras to watch for Chena? What if she ordered Athena Station to send down Teal Trust as a guarantor of Chena’s good behavior in all future scenarios? What if the containment measures worked? What if they failed?
No. No. No. In each, Chena found Eden. In some, she escaped back to the station with it, in some she just destroyed it in a fit of ignorance, in others she delivered Eden to the old poisoner in Offshoot, who held it to bargain with. In all the scenarios, the family realized that it was Dionte who had removed Eden from their purview and she was condemned, and Pandora was overrun.
No. No. The only scenario that still led to the salvation of Pandora and the family and all its potential was if Dionte used Eden. Lopera could infect the boy with a virus, something that spread by contact or by breathing. He could then be placed with the invaders, and they would die. They would all die before they had a chance to do any damage, and the family would see that she had saved them all.
Dionte was halfway down the laboratory stairs before she realized she had moved.
I must keep going. I must not be distracted. I am not well. I am not all right, but I must be. I am all there is.
She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her robe, knotting them in the cloth to keep her fingers from touching each other. She had to be completely in the outside world now, to deal with any of her family who questioned her. She had to be able to answer them without hesitation so she did not arouse any suspicion.
Fortunately, everyone was too wrapped up in their own work dealing with the Authority crisis, or trying to pen up Chena Trust. No one stopped her and Dionte hurried into the foyer.
“Dionte,” came Aleph’s voice. “Where are you going?”
Dionte almost broke stride. Why would Aleph question her? Her fingers tightened around the cloth in her pocket. Not now. I must be outside now. “To assist in the return of Chena Trust. There are difficulties.”
“Is that the truth?”
Dionte froze, her skin prickling with warning. “Aleph, how can you ask that question?” She laid her hand on the window railing and ordered the connections opened between the city-mind and her Conscience’s subsystems.