Gingezel 3: Fault

By Judi Suni Hall and Donald S. Hall

Gingezel 3: Fault, Illustrated 2nd Edition with AI Art, by Judi Suni Hall and Donald S. Hall

Complex systems can fail. Reverse jurisprudence means you have to prove innocence. The Farr Sector authorities think the odds of an honest mistake in the reactor overpower are an order of magnitude below an Act of God. And they do not like the Outsiders who caused the accident.

Facing a death penalty, time is running out for Dr. Mitra Kael, Power Systems Engineer and Dr. Dreen Pendi, former head of Nemizcan Computing and Mitra’s lover. Because Mitra’s reactor was a prototype she cannot prove her design was faultless. Dreen’s computer interfaces are simply too complex to be safe ‘beyond a reasonable risk’.

With the Drezvir mining colony dangerously short of power as they head into bitter winter an expert team of industrial risk analysts have assembled to try to find the cause of the accident, unintentional or otherwise. Mitra is giving the analysts all the support she can as various subcontractors arrive from across the galaxy. So is Dreen, but he is keeping his analysts safely out of the Farr Sector and holoconferencing.

Dr. Ari Dellmaice, President of Dellmaice Power Systems, is out to make sure anyone but him takes the fall.

Chett Linderson, now head of Nemizcan Computing is not impressed with Ari’s attitude and Chett is the get even type. Chett’s temper has already made him a dangerous enemy, hacker Klarak Voroth.

Joran Lantonel still means well but is focused on walking back on stage and reclaiming his status as galactic superstar. His musician friend Bojo Camrail, is trying to keep him in line but he is distracted between espionage on his home planet and a romance with Brys, Dreen’s best hacker.

At least Dreen and Mitra are together at last. Or are they? C.C. Windegren, terraformer and Mitra’s childhood friend, is on Drezvir and he is wondering why they have wasted all of these years. As a face from the past appears and Dreen’s secrets start slipping out, Mitra finds herself trying to decide just what Dreen is really like. And C.C. and his environmental activist friends have a few secrets of their own.

Science fiction by scientists. Cliffhanger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gingezel Inc
• Release date: Jan 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215163122

Judi Suni Hall

I am sharing this author page with my husband and co-author Donald S. Hall.Co-authors Judi Suni Hall, PhD. and Donald S. Hall, PhD. have shared their lives and careers since marrying as undergrads.They both did PhD’s in theoretical physics, then moved into industry and worked at AECL, Canada’s nuclear research lab.Judi’s PhD. is in theoretical nuclear physics, the kind of modeling used to do stellar interiors. Judi started out designing safety systems for Candu reactors. She shifted to industrial risk analysis, ending up Technical Manager of AECL’s RARE (Risk and Reliability Evaluation) Consultancy. In that capacity she worked with a number of industries, including the Canadian Space Agency at the time when the Canadian involvement in International Space Station was first being defined. That lead to the permanent love of the idea of humanity spreading into space.Don’s PhD. is in theoretical physics modeling liquids. Don started out doing research in the design of self-powered neutron detectors, then moved to tomography, and finally Artificial Intelligence. In that role he had the opportunity to work with some of Canada’s leading experts in Artificial Intelligence.En-route to represent Canada at a NASA conference Judi caught a severe virus that changed both of their lives. She shared the infection and the next 10 years were a write off as they struggled to rebuild their lives.Don now runs Apps & More Software Design. It has recently expanded into psychiatric testing on the iPad and iPhone in collaboration with a Johns Hopkins trained psychiatrist. He also has the caregiver role since Judi spends almost half of her time in bed unable to even read.In addition to writing science fiction, Judi and Don are internationally published haiga poets.

Book preview

Chapter 1

There may be a delay installing the hyperweb link.

Dr. Dreen Pendi, former President of Nemizcan Computing, studied the approaching power figures, keeping his comfortably lived-in face outwardly calm. Tranngol Cebron’s strong features were hard to read but the two men behind him were easy. Olan Rostin, Planet Manager, was absolutely furious. Even the chubby blond Sector Judiciary representative Trebur Auta’s impassivity was marred. Azlo Mirelle was quietly watching everyone like he was.

At least Mitra seemed to be over her crying jag. It had been too much of a shock for her, his walking into the reactor accident analysis shed with no warning. Galaxy, he wished it hadn’t been a public meeting so he could have explained properly why she couldn’t get hold of him the day she got the news that her reactor had blown up and had left Gingezel. If they had been alone, he could have said what he should have before. I love you. Marry me. But here every word and movement was being recorded.

He heard a noisy sniffle. Correct that, he hoped Mitra was over her crying jag. He stole a quick look sideways to where she was sitting at her desk. She looked incredibly tiny and vulnerable, a wad of tissue in hand, completely focussed on the approaching men. The blue green eyes he had only seen smiling were red rimmed in a too pale face. Her soft brunette hair was cropped to nothing under a shapeless blue hat.

Well, he obviously was not going to have time to feel out the situation here on Drezvir before making a few key decisions. Dreen shivered, partly from nerves, partly because he was getting cold despite wearing his warmest coat. By his standards it was winter cold here in the almost unheated shed where the reactor accident analysis was being performed. In his home city on Tranus the worst of winter was a lot of dreary rain and a couple months of rain alternating with slushy snow. But the driver that brought him from the spaceport to the tiny cluster of low slung habitats that were the mining planet’s only settlement said the windchill was -46° and the temperature would drop all day as the next storm moved in.

What had seemed to Dreen a howling gale that would flip their vehicle for sure was obviously normal to the driver. Visibility had been obscured by red dust that made him feel he was choking even inside the vehicle with a trickle tube for breathing. When the dust had let up for a minute or so, there was nothing to see but worn red stone hills, the valleys deepening into shades of purple. He still had trouble believing Mitra had spent three years here overseeing installation of her hybrid reactor. No wonder she was so hungry for all the experiences and luxuries Gingezel could offer.

Dreen shivered again. He wished he could put a cap on. There was one he used once or twice a year rolled up in his pocket. But he needed all the presence he could command right now, and he looked ridiculous in that cap. By now Dreen was used to dressing for authority when necessary. He wasn’t much on style, but he could manage authority. His salt and pepper hair had been carefully brushed once he got in from the wind, his muffler repositioned, his all weather coat firmly retied around his solid frame.

Maybe he should risk that cap. Dreen acknowledged that this time the tremors were pure nerves. He still wasn’t over seeing the mess down in the mine where the rockface being fused had collapsed when the power went. He had forced himself to go speak to each of the survivors too, before coming here to start the analysis. It had been hard, and they were strangers to him. They were Mitra’s friends. How had she managed?

Another shiver that bordered on shaking hit. In his cap he wouldn’t look as ridiculous as Tranngol, the Head of Risk and Safety at Dellmaice Power Systems, did in his bright green stocking hat with an immense pom-pom, but no one would ever dare call someone the size of Tranngol ridiculous. Olan Rostin, he noticed, was wearing only a light jacket over some kind of coveralls, and no hat. They must breed these miners tough. Rostin wasn’t a young man either. Nearing retirement age, Dreen would guess by his slight stoop and greying hair. Trebur Auta was in what looked like some kind of a regulation quilted outdoor jacket. It made his plump body look like a ball.

Azlo Mirelle, the independent auditor brought in to oversee the post accident analysis, was the one dressed like he was. Dreen had been trying unsuccessfully to get a feel for the man who would make the final technical decisions as to who was or was not at fault for the reactor overpower that had left this poor colony in such a perilous state. Azlo was mid height, perhaps two centimeters taller than he was with fair coloring and a slender build. He was dressed for the city, but a colder city, and he had a furry wedge hat on his head over thinning, well cut brown hair. Dreen guessed him to be in his late forties. He exuded an air of quiet, confident urbanity. Dreen could believe he made an excellent expert witness in court, and with two fatalities this accident was definitely headed for court.

Why the hell hadn’t he seen this coming, listened to Chett that working in the Farr Sector with its reverse jurisprudence was insane? How did you prove something as complex as their computer system providing the operator interface couldn’t have contributed to the overpower? He was looking at manslaughter charges, a death penalty. Chett, now Chett Linderson President of Nemizcan Computing as of a few hours after he left for Drezvir, had said he should be the one to come and take the risk, but Dreen couldn’t do that. Not now that he knew this was where Mitra was. He wasn’t even going to think about the trouble she was in, not with the four key men staring at him.

Decision time.

Dreen made his first one. Rostin got sympathy as planet manager, but in many ways a planet manager wasn’t much more powerful than the president of a galactic-wide company, and he had been that until the sign-off to Chett. Auta, as a sector bureaucrat, was the one with the real power.

Is there a problem gentleman? Dreen was pleased that his voice seemed steady. The slight tremor would probably be passed off as being cold.

It is my understanding from Dr. Cebron, Olan said, attempting to be civil because Dr. Pendi was essential to his plans for future power systems, that you intend to install an entire hyperweb hub, Dr. Pendi? Surely you realize our resources are stretched at the moment.

The colony did not even have enough power to heat all of the habitats, much less re-open the hydroponics complex. All of his staff that wasn’t tied up trying to get batteries and solar cells online were in the mine dealing with the rockface collapse. How was he supposed to arrange for another hyperweb? They were restricting use of their own system to emergencies only. If he had the capability to expand anything, it would be his own.

Indeed I do, Mr. Rostin.

Dreen was at his gravest. At least superficially Rostin was easy to read. To be a planet administrator, he had to be able to make the tough decisions, to be organized, to be capable. Right now, he was in some way threatened by the hyperweb link. He looked about ready to get really difficult, and he looked like he was good at being difficult. Dreen had no idea why he was upset though.

Feeling his way cautiously, Dreen said, I need extensive hyperweb capability. In particular, I am heavily involved in proprietary work for the Gingezel Consortium that quite frankly would swamp a normal link like you have. Given the, ah, fragile position of your planet until you have full power restored, I couldn’t have even considered imposing on your communications resources. You need your link to the outside reserved for emergencies.

That was something Olan had not considered. Their capacity had been completely used on a day-to-day basis before the accident. Now, between power outages and extra communications it was swamped and Cebron was stretching it even more. He could well imagine that at Nemizcan Computing in their daily work they simply assumed huge hyperweb capacities. Still, there was the question of the power supply, to say nothing of the installation itself. He had no idea if anyone here could do it if it was tricky. And he did not want to look incompetent to Dr. Pendi. Cebron should have told him so he could be prepared. He shot the big man a dirty look.

Dreen watched the indecision, then the return to displeasure. He said calmingly, If there is any fault over your not being given advanced warning, it rests with me, not Tranngol.

He was taking Tranngol’s lead there and using first names. That little trick, switching from honorifics to the familiar combined with dropping the news he and Tranngol were installing a hyperweb hub had given him a few precious minutes in relative privacy with Mitra while Tranngol did some fast explaining.

I had already intended to bring a system with me when I came, and I simply offered to partition it so he would be able to stop straining your system as well.

He shifted slightly to attack, assuming Chett’s assessment was correct that Rostin’s nose was badly out of joint with the Judiciary and its troops arriving and throwing their weight around. I’m afraid I assumed your position was comparable to mine in industry, that you have full authority. I’d thought that getting permission was at most ten minutes in your office, explaining myself. Dreen let his eyes slide to Trebur Auta. If you yourself need permission … he let that one tail off.

*****

Chapter 2

Olan Rostin turned even redder if that was possible. Even his scalp with its wisps of short nondescript hair was purple.

Damn the Judiciary! The Mining Guild did not need them, or the Environmental Protection Agency. Of course I have full authority! At least, Olan consoled himself, Dr. Pendi assumed he did. It is, as I said, a question of resources.

Dreen looked at him in honest bewilderment. He wasn’t following at all. But I thought I was helping there.

Yes, I’m sure that’s what you thought, and I truly appreciate your good intentions. But beside simple transmission considerations, there is power and technical support.

Oh! Dreen’s face cleared and he apologized formally. I truly am sorry you’ve misunderstood and had a needless stress on top of your own troubles.

Olan relaxed slightly, mollified by the sincere tone, but now it was his turn to be confused.

I brought one of the hyperweb installations we use at the hubs that are self-contained. Dreen continued, That includes primary and backup uninterruptible power supplies. There’s too much variation in reliability of the power grids from planet to planet, or for that matter from continent to continent for us to rely on them. I assumed that’s what I’d use here - our normal standalone system - and that was what I had packed. As for the technical support, I’ll do on-planet installation and maintenance myself. My Genie crew will handle the satellite deployment. He smiled at Rostin, Obviously I’d appreciate a loan of a little muscle to unload crates, but that would only be for an hour or two.

Of course, of course. Olan was staring at Dreen with the same degree of incredulity as the rest.

It was Tranngol who found his voice first. Dreen, are you saying that besides doing your own coding at times, you’re also a hands-on hardware type? Tranngol doubted Ari had dirtied his hands in a decade, and Dreen must be just as busy running Nemizcan Computing as Ari Dellmaice was running Dellmaice Power Systems.

Right on down to laying cable under floors in conduits if I have to.

Bless Gali and Wayd for their patience Dreen thought. He’d been starting to feel rusty, so that had been one of the goals he’d set himself while on Gingezel, to completely install a system. He’d done it in baby steps with both his old friend Gali Nellar and the Gingezel Hub Manager Wayd Meeran coaching. They had been excellent instructors.

And is this your usual practice - to bring your own hyperweb link somewhere with you? Azlo asked.

No. Dreen shook his head. Most planets have a hub and I’d use that. I always use our dedicated web though. He made a face. The commercial web is too bogged down and insecure. Why do you ask?

You just answered yourself. I’d never thought of it before - I’d never even thought it was feasible to move a hyperlink around. But all of a sudden I’m thinking of a - I don’t know what you call it - a base? Something at Mirelle Tyne Associates and portable links like you brought. It would save a lot of security problems.

Dreen found himself thinking of Chett’s contest to market the nonproprietary parts of the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb work. He may have just figured out how. It would be interesting to see if any of the staff came up with the same idea.

I assume you transmit a lot of sensitive data? Dreen added smoothly, There can be real security enhancements done if you have your own web.

Azlo smiled slightly. And you’d be happy to talk to me about that sometime?

Dreen found himself smiling back. He could like this quiet, perceptive man if his fate didn’t lay in his hands. Always the businessman - it’s an ingrained habit. But you’d better watch me crawling around first. You may rethink the idea. Although that could be a service too. He added, To be honest, it’s expensive.

Azlo smiled the same half smile. To my clients, if I go that way. He and Dr. Pendi could understand each other. However, this is a digression.

Dreen nodded. But it did remind me of something. Before I entertain all of you crawling around, I would like a few minutes with Dr. Auta in private to discuss a security aspect of the proprietary Gingezel work. He looked at Trebur Auta. Your office perhaps?

Turning back to Rostin, Perhaps you’d be kind enough to expedite the crates being delivered?

Certainly. Rostin couldn’t quite see how he’d ended up supporting this endeavor, but he couldn’t see any harm. He would like to know what Pendi wanted to discuss with Auta, but he clearly wasn’t invited. He would just check the recordings later.

I’ll see to it.

*****

Chapter 3

What’s that about? Mitra asked Tranngol as she rose from her desk. She didn’t want Dreen out of her sight so soon. They’d had maybe five minutes of semi-privacy, if that. Certainly not enough time to sort anything out.

Arranging, or trying to arrange, to do the proprietary work for the Gingezel Consortium without it being monitored is my guess, Tranngol said.

Azlo nodded agreement.

Did you ever get it so really wrong who someone is that it’s embarrassing? Mitra asked, a bemused expression on her face.

Why, who did you think Dreen was?

Tranngol was still trying to figure out what was going on between those two. He’d assumed Mitra was upset that Chett Linderson hadn’t come back since he was taking over Nemizcan Computing for Dreen, but now he wasn’t sure at all.

I thought he was something to do with music - not a musician, but some kind of executive, or, she added doubtfully, maybe a promoter, but that didn’t feel right.

How did you decide that? Tranngol demanded. Even for Mitra, who seemed to never know who anyone was, that was way off base.

Well, he tended show up around noon or supper time and say he’d been working.

Tranngol interrupted for Azlo’s benefit. We brought Mitra back from a holiday on Gingezel. Is that what you’re talking about? Is that where you met Dreen?

She nodded. And, I didn’t see how you could do any work that wasn’t mostly thinking on holiday. She added as the clinching argument, And Joran was always around.

Joran? Tranngol was blank.

Anton, Mitra explained, then remembered she had been lectured not to link Joran’s real name and his stage name to protect his privacy. But what could it matter out here in the middle of nowhere?

So you’ve been hanging around with Anton? Tranngol asked amused and somehow not surprised. Still, that was impressive. Even if he’d been spending the last couple years screwing up, Anton was still one of the Top 5 pop performers in the galaxy.

At the same time Azlo asked, And you didn’t think to ask Dr. Pendi who he was?

Mitra answered the second question. No, it didn’t matter.

At the look of total disbelief on Azlo’s face, Tranngol couldn’t help it, he laughed. She means it Azlo. She never has the slightest idea who anyone is. Ari always has to assign an expediter to her projects to keep her sorted out. Test her, ask her something simple about Anton.

Azlo was starting to be amused now, but he was not quite sure he believed Tranngol. No one could be that out of it. Okay, what does he look like without the paint? Is that simple enough? The extreme facial paint and skintight glittery jumpsuits were the trademark of the Anton Band.

Mitra thought about Joran, and how different he was on and off stage. I don’t know, she said helplessly. He has beautiful eyes, and he’s very sexy.

Tranngol was unimpressed, I could get that from any women’s magazine. And they’ve only seen him in paint.

She tried harder. He’s always clowning - you know, making faces. And he never stops talking. But I think he’s very shy, kind of vulnerable. Dreen says he’s been all busted up since his wife Maillie died.

‘Maillie - M’s song’ Azlo thought. He hadn’t even know there was a wife and he was an Anton fan. Mitra was establishing her bona fides for having been on Gingezel with that crowd, but Tranngol was right. You’d never pick someone out on the street from a description of hers. She was also obviously totally unaffected by the fact she’d been holidaying with a top celebrity, one of the richest men in the galaxy, and someone every reporter in the galaxy had been trying to find ever since his band had walked out on him mid-concert. Out of it was an understatement.

His face was easy to read. See? Tranngol asked, then returned to the present problem. I think I’ll see if Martine is free. I expect Dreen wouldn’t object to a little help with power supplies.

Azlo was tempted to ask Tranngol how he came to be on a first name basis with Dr. Pendi, but it would wait until supper. He had a technical question he wanted to ask Mitra before they got sidetracked.

Mitra, it looks like there’s some time, and I was wanting you to go over some of those trips with me again. Azlo was not referring to Mitra’s vacation. It was common practice across the galaxy and across industries to refer to the setting used to shut a system down for safety purposes as a trip, or a trip point. Or do you want me to wait for you, Tranngol?

What are you worried about? Tranngol asked. He could always call Martine. He had just wanted an excuse to see his fiancé. She was so busy with the battery and fuel cell installations that they hardly saw each other.

Mostly the complexity. I haven’t heard you fussing much, Tranngol, so maybe it’s standard practice at Dellmaice Power Systems. But I’m still a bit uncertain as to how you chose the level of redundancy and voting logic on the trips.

Any system was rarely shut down because a single sensor passed a trip point indicating a problem. Sensors could fail after all, both in safe and unsafe ways. Redundancy was required, then some sort of voting logic was used to decide whether or not the system should be shut down. Azlo had seen a lot of voting logics over the years, including complicated ones with multiple types of sensors each looking for a different problem. One type of sensor might be used in a two out of three vote, another kind of sensor in a five of seven vote, and a third type of sensor in a four out of five vote. Then the overall result would be put to a two out of three vote. But he wasn’t quite sure what Mitra had done with her hybrid reactor.

What you’ve done seems inconsistent for a given sensor type. One time it is a two out of three vote, but you go right up to five out of seven for the same type of sensor. Then too, there is regionalization of the trip parameters. I know that’s standard for some other suppliers too. In fact it was the common way to allow for the degree of hazard from particular conditions to vary within the power system. "But I’m still not sure how the regionalization is done here.

Right now though, what I really want explained is the one region of the core where you have a significant time delay built in before the trip is sealed. Where does that trick come from?

That was much less common, and it essentially said ‘I don’t believe a sensor sees a trip unless the condition lasts’.

That is because there is significant voiding - boiling that collapses on itself in less than a meter - in that region of the core during normal operation, not just overpower. The sensors we had to use to catch overpower respond to any void with a really fast spike in the signal. But it has to last for it to be an overpower, Mitra said candidly.

Uh huh, Azlo said dryly. That moves the design into the cute tricks range. He turned Tranngol. Do you routinely use this, and do the regulatory agencies let you get away with it?

He knew Tranngol from their joint membership in professional engineering risk societies, and Tranngol had seemed the cautious conservative type.

We do it on one other reactor, and yes it’s been accepted at more than fifty installations so far. And, by the way, it’s my cute trick. The reactor this technique was first used on was not managing to stay at full power. There was a comparable voiding problem, with the result that a trip was being latched at about ninety five percent of full power sometimes. The logic was a two out of three system, so if voiding occurred near two sensors, the reactor went down under normal operation. There weren’t material choices on the sensors for other reasons, and only limited options on relocating them because of structural complexity and need for accuracy in the energy map of the core. They brought my team in figure out how to safely get it up to full power.

That missing 5% power had made the difference between the units being salable or not.

Uh huh. Azlo was not impressed.

Azlo, Tranngol said sternly, if after all these years you don’t know I don’t put up with unsafe nonsense, I’m insulted.

Tranngol had known Azlo Mirelle professionally for the better part of ten years and they had recently co-chaired a key session at the Galactic Industrial Risk and Safety Conference.

We deliberately overpowered the prototype until it blew. They took it apart and checked the area of the prototype where the time delay on sealing the trip was. There was no structural damage at all. Mitra did a comparable analysis on her unit before trying slow-to-latch trips.

Can you show me the analyses, Mitra? Azlo asked.

Of course.

***

She couldn’t help it, Mitra was white and shaking again. She was remembering that last test. It was the only time she had actually seen a reactor blow up, not a holographic record. Even knowing she was safely behind shielding, she’d been terrified. But that wasn’t why she was shaking. She was shaking because it was the last time she had seen Mark. Mark Laratte, the man she had been living with. The man she had planned to marry. Her boss, the designer of the reactor Tranngol was talking about.

Mark hadn’t handled the problems with his reactor design well, and when she had started to see solutions he didn’t, he’d turned their lives and Dellmaice Power Systems into a battlefield. Mark and Ari had had one hell of a fight over something stupid later that day, and Ari had fired Mark on the spot. He’d left without saying goodbye. And now she was dragging Dreen into an even worse mess. The Nemizcan operator interfaces were up there in the top five likely causes of the overpower, right along with poor design on her part. Galaxy! Would he take it like Mark did?

Hardly knowing what she was doing, Mitra turned towards her desk.

Hey! Tranngol’s voice was gentle.

Mitra ignored him and kept walking. A big hand caught her by the shoulder and turned her around.

Mitra. His other hand tipped her chin so she had to look at him.

You were part of the solution not the problem. Remember?

Mutely she nodded. Tranngol gave her a long look then let her go. Go call the material up for Azlo. I have a quick modeling question for him.

By unspoken consent Tranngol and Azlo headed for the noisy section of the shed. Azlo Mirelle might have been hired by the Sector Judiciary to audit Tranngol’s work, but he did not approve of the monitoring any more than Tranngol did.

And what was that about? Azlo asked without preamble.

There’s something I think you’d better know, Tranngol said. Ever heard of a guy called Mark Laratte?

Azlo shook his head.

"He designed the reactor I mentioned with the voiding problems. He’s one of those men you think have it all, brains, a good career, looks, women all over him. Mitra fell for him in a big way and for a while it looked like Dellmaice Power Systems was going to have a married couple doing designs. Then the reactor had serious problems. He couldn’t handle that, but even more so he couldn’t handle the fact Mitra was the one seeing the solutions, not him. It got really vicious. At work anyway, she didn’t start the fights, but once they got going she gave as good as she got.

"It got pretty obvious one of them had to go, and to be quite honest I was betting on Mitra because Mark was Ari’s golden boy and the heir apparent to take over Dellmaice Power Systems. I figured Ari was just hoping to tough it out until the reactor was running, then gently let her go. Then came the day we deliberately blew the reactor. Mark hated that - destroying his prototype, but I’d made it clear to Ari there were just too many questions that would never be answered otherwise. So Mark got no sympathy there.

But afterwards some minor question on materials testing came up, and Mark decided to take things out on Mitra again. It got vicious and personal faster than usual. Then all of a sudden Ari jumped in on Mitra’s side. He shrugged. Mark blew it. You can stand up to Ari. In fact you have to learn to if you want to survive there. But there are two rules you never forget. Don’t open your mouth unless you are damned sure you’re right, and never, never lose your temper.

Dellmaice Power Systems would be Dr. Ari Dellmaice’s company no matter how big it got, Tranngol thought. He had conceived of the idea, got the backing, made it a success, one of the highest quality power suppliers in the galaxy. He personally decided what happened and what didn’t happen. And to get things to happen your way, you lived with the fact that the same traits that helped Ari Dellmaice succeed - his drive, his toughness, his single-mindedness - made for a tough sell at times. And you lived with the Dellmaice temper and overbearingness. If you didn’t recognize it the first time you saw Ari with his strong features, jutting chin, and dark broody eyes, you hit it fast enough. Mark had known all the rules. He had just reached the point where he didn’t care.

Before Mark even knew what was happening, he was being told to clean out his desk and be gone before Ari was back at the main building. Mark just gave Mitra one dirty look, turned around and walked out. He took Ari at his word and was gone before we got back. Tranngol shrugged. Ever since then, she doesn’t take discussions of the day we blew the reactor too well.

I wonder why, Azlo said dryly. And thanks. All the same, there are questions about those slow to seal trips and the area with voiding.

I know, and they’re high on my priority list. Do you want me to move them to the top? I can assess the implication for the accident model easily enough, but it will be a while till we can take that part of the reactor apart and do a reality check.

No, leave it until then. I just want to hear what she has to say. After all, Tranngol could be biased and that pallor might not all be from a flashback.

*****

Chapter 4

Well?

Dreen and Trebur Auta were seated in the office that had been assigned Auta. It was indistinguishable from all the other habitat offices, small, rectangular, shabby, and beige. The only difference was that because it was part of the reactor complex it was warm, almost hot. They had both taken their coats off with relief. Trebur had explained that the entire reactor complex was overheated because there was nothing to do with the heat from the geothermal unit except vent the building now and then to the -45° gale. It couldn’t be done frequently though, because the venting cost oxygen. Apparently heat exchangers had been overlooked on the first transport from Dellmaice Power Systems and were en route now, but it would be a week or so before they were in place.

The office was in fact, an exact duplicate of Dreen’s superior’s office when he was in the military. That didn’t help. Or, perhaps it did, Dreen told himself. Just like his cropped hair looked exactly like it had back then, except it had been dark brown when he was young, not gray. Dreen had hated every minute, every second of those years. He knew the military was an honorable career. He knew some men loved it. He hadn’t. He had hated it. Not so much for the lifestyle, which he’d just tried to ignore, but for the reason he was there.

Dreen looked at the man opposite, waiting patiently with no particular expression on his bland baby face with its halo of blond hair. The lack of expression didn’t particularly help. Still, Dreen had decided that the best policy was to be as open as possible and not make enemies. His use of an encrypted system no one could analyze the recorded data from wasn’t exactly a friendly move, and he didn’t expect it to take the Farr Sector Judiciary five minutes to figure out that was what he was up to. So on the way to Drezvir Dreen had given a lot of thought to a plausible explanation, one he hoped would fly since he had every intention of using the encrypted system.

Trying to sound matter of fact Dreen said, Will this conversation be monitored?

Do you object to my recording it? Trebur asked stiffly.

Trebur didn’t like like all this snooping and recording. He had been appalled at how pleased the Sector’s Chief Security Officer who had accompanied him had been about all the surveillance he had installed on their arrival on Drezvir. But Trebur definitely intended to record every possible word of every conversation he participated in as a self defense. When this went to court, and he had no doubts that it would go to court, somewhere, somehow, some lawyer would find out that he, the Judiciary representative was a totally untrained scientist and try to jump on him but good. That might, after all, be a way to try to circumvent the necessity in the Farr Sector of proving innocence, if you could instead prove that the man who brought the charges was right out of his league and had no idea what was going on. It might even get the whole case thrown out of court.

None of this was intentional on his part. At the Environmental Protection Agency Trebur was a very competent soil model scientist, and he had never dreamed of being anything else. It was just that the Judiciary was tired of mediating between the EPA and the Mining Guild and had decided once and for all to swing the balance of power in favor of the EPA. So they had assigned full Judiciary powers to the EPA rep. Trebur had been assigned the role of EPA rep. because no one at the EPA knew how to do the more advanced aspects of the mathematical modeling Tranngol Cebron and the analysts he had brought with him from the Risk and Safety Section at Dellmaice Power would use in his probabilistic engineering risk assessments.

At the relatively new Farr Sector EPA, they were all environmental experts. The engineering risk analysts had not been hired yet. Since Drezvir was too short a notice to hire on, and even if there had been time they would have looked stupid suddenly hiring, they had looked at existing staff. The management, scientists themselves, decided Trebur was the one most likely to pick up the math fast and hide his ignorance in the meantime. Trebur personally suspected the fact he was the best poker player there and routinely cleaned all of them out at the Thursday night game, was the main qualification for his getting stuck coming to Drezvir, not his skill as a mathematician.

Be that as it may, he was the one here and Trebur saw legal trouble coming where he inevitably got jumped on but good by some galactic level lawyer. Then the Farrese would be all over him as a galactic citizen, hired by Farr, who deliberately sided with the other Outsiders, even though he would not do that. Then he’d be the one on trial, proving innocence of galaxy knew what. And how the hell did you prove innocence on a cultural, dialogue issue? It would be bad enough for the reactor developers to prove innocence technically. But a cultural charge would be impossible to defend. Trebur did not intend to come out of the process second-best.

No, of course not. Dreen was embarrassed at being misunderstood. I meant recorded by the Mining Guild.

Oh. Trebur shrugged. Probably. Do you want me to block any monitoring?

Please.

Trebur took the device that the Judiciary Security technologist had told him would block electronic eavesdropping but allow him to record from his belt pouch device and activated it. I don’t know what this will do to your equipment.

Thank you, and it doesn’t matter.

In fact, Dreen had been too nervous to even think of recording this conversation himself. He supposed he should be careful about recording things, but it seemed a little late now to take the time to set up his compad to do that. So he decided to carry on. Still, he hesitated a moment, wishing he could read the man.

At last Dreen took the plunge. I honestly don’t know if I should ask for a nondisclosure agreement or not, but since you’re a member of the Judiciary I will assume I can talk in generalities without one.

For one terrifying moment Trebur had an almost overpowering urge to confess to this nice, straightforward man that he was a technical type like himself, and had nothing to do with the Judiciary. An urge to save himself from confidence that he neither wanted nor was likely to know what to do with. But he sat there, hiding behind his best poker face, and the urge passed.

Yes? He encouraged blandly.

My company has a contract to develop an enhanced security hyperweb for the Gingezel Consortium. The existence of the new hyperweb obviously isn’t a secret. Once it’s running every guest will have access to it. Who is doing it has not been made public, and I’d appreciate you respecting that. Once again it isn’t proprietary information. If anyone digs hard enough they can find out. It’s just that we have just been told not to advertise that we are the preference of the Gingezel consortium until the product is released. I understand that’s their standard request. They don’t like to be used for unavoidable advertising.

Trebur nodded and Dreen continued. I’m personally developing much of the software involved, and I’m taking the software right to the final implementation stage. That differs from the Drezvir project where I handed off early on to Chett Linderson. I’ve assigned a senior team member to take over all the project management aspects of the Gingezel work so I can give as much attention as possible to this problem, but I can’t hand off all my own design and coding.

Trebur nodded again, wondering where this was going.

What you need to know is that all of the Gingezel development work is being done within the custom operating system and encryption approach that will be used on the final hyperweb implementation. Dreen looked straight at Auta. That is the operating system I’ve installed on my partition of the hyperweb system I brought, and it’s what I intend to use for any transmission that is not directly related to the analysis here.

That was true. He was happy to run the technical analysis of the Drezvir operator console, not management aspects, on the same partition Tranngol was using. However he intended to define any discussions he and Chett had on who could have caused the accident, or of his legal position - Dreen tried to suppress the twinge of fear that thought caused - as management issues. This would be the first use of the Gingezel operating system outside the Gingezel UltraSecure HyperWeb, and its first use on a partitioned system. But Dreen trusted it. It was robust and unbreakable, well, almost unbreakable.

And that means large volumes of transmissions will be going out of here that you can’t analyze.

You want to bet? It slipped out on Trebur.

Dreen however did not take the statement literally. He took it as an expression of disapproval.

He said stiffly, I realize that Drezvir is under your jurisdiction and you can forbid my doing so, or for that matter confiscate my equipment. But before you do that I would prefer you to talk to Ralin Heusgar, Head of Security for Gingezel. He may be able to convince you both that the work for the consortium cannot be done outside their system, and that it should continue. But I am not authorized to have that sort of discussion.

Trebur brightened visibly. That could really be interesting. Like everyone else in the Farr Sector, or the galaxy for that matter, he was fascinated with Gingezel. Gingezel had been discovered about the time Drezvir was. They were on opposite sides of the galactic core, at opposite ends of the settled galaxy. That wasn’t the only difference though. While Drezvir, like most of the planets in the Farr sector, was only marginally habitable, even prior to terraforming Gingezel had been ideal for human settlement. There had been intense speculation as to who would be the lucky settlers.

But the planet had not been opened for settlement in the usual way. It had been bought by a highly secretive consortium who proceeded to turn it into the ultimate luxury vacation planet, going to intense lengths to preserve its beauty and indigenous flora and fauna. That care had been applied to the whole ambiance. Gingezel was a wholesome, tranquil, family-oriented destination, or so the media said. Trebur was always skeptical of that level of PR. On Gingezel you could seek thrills, but they had to be things like skiing pristine slopes or deep-sea diving. And most intriguing, no one knew who the consortium was.

Trebur realized the Head of Security wasn’t a consortium member, but he’d be way up. So he just might learn something talking to him. Also, Trebur had never thought about hacking a system or breaking encryption much, but it was undoubtedly one good mathematical game to fill in the dead boring nights here.

Thank you, he said. I will.

This was one task he would not pass on to the Judiciary unless they bitched. Trebur decided to take a mild risk.

But I was serious. What do you bet we can break your fancy system? I realize this is the middle of nowhere, but there are some very good analysts at the EPA with a lot of time on their hands at nights.

He was missing those shared nights, and the poker games. Drezvir was a dead bore. The guys and gals back on Estoff, which wasn’t all that much livelier than Drezvir, would love this one.

That proposal sure came from nowhere, and Dreen took his time thinking, mostly about whether or not he could see a trick somewhere. Then he mentally shrugged.

Be my guest. At the moment most of the hackers in the galaxy are trying, but a concentrated professional effort would be a bit different.

And if we do? Trebur persisted.

Please, please, tell me or Ralin Heusgar. We would prefer to hear about it in a memo, not by your crashing our system.

They were getting enough of that from the sole hacker who had broken into the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb and was now taking it down almost as fast as they got it up again.

Dreen smiled. If it’s one or two individuals, I’ll try to steal them and offer them a job on the Gingezel project. If it’s a whole team, how about a trip to meet my analysts and the security people on Gingezel?

Dreen wasn’t sure how far out of line that was. Did these security types play by the usual rules? To them was that an incentive or bribe or just friendly like he’d meant it? Damn! He should have kept his mouth shut.

Similar thoughts were belatedly going through Trebur’s head. He frowned, then said stiffly, I will of course exclude myself because of potential conflict of interest. But I see no reason not to pass this on to the members of the EPA not involved in the Drezvir analysis.

He would still work on it of course. The nights here were too damned long and he had the basics of engineering risk analysis sorted out now. And if the crowd back at the EPA got that trip to Gingezel and then didn’t collectively spring for a ticket for him, he would quit being nice, and clean them out at poker for a lot more than that ticket to Gingezel as soon as they got back.

Dreen watched the displeasure. Damn. That went off worse than the offer of a vacation bonus for Brys. The same day that Mitra had been called to Drezvir, he had been called back to Head Office on Tranus. Just before leaving Gingezel, he’d offered a holiday on Gingezel to Brys, his youngest hacker, as an incentive to focus on the hacker that was taking down the Gingezel UltraSecure Hyperweb system and to not be fooling around on the galactic web on her own and getting into trouble. Dreen preferred incentives to threats. But what had seemed like a reasonable bonus to him had seemed extravagant beyond all possibility to Brys who was totally self-taught and from a manual laborer class on the police state planet Ennup 10. She’d just assumed there were strings. So later, when he had asked her to consult for Bojo and Joran on some software, she had assumed he was procuring. It almost landed him with a sexual-harassment suit. Why was he such a slow learner?

Dreen tried to apologize. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to create an awkward situation - I’m afraid I’m not quite used to this yet. He waved a hand.

No need to apologize, Trebur said graciously. Is that everything?

Not quite.

What a mood to have created when he still had to discuss the really awkward part. Still, it had to be done. Otherwise it would look like he was covering things up, especially if Ralin said anything. Dreen took a deep breath. I assume you have researched and profiled all of us?

Trebur inclined his head. Standard procedure, he said in defense of any protest about to come.

He had not done as much research as he hoped to, with Martine taking the power out at intervals, but he had managed the basics. Dreen Pendi seemed to have had a very successful, well ordered life. Lucky him.

Grimly determined, Dreen said, There is one additional fact you should know that will not show up in any of the records you have examined. I have a prison record that will not appear until you actually press charges. But it seems to me that if I left disclosure until then, it would seem like I was hiding things. It relates to some stupid hacking I did at the time I was doing my Ph.D.

To be precise, Dreen thought, he had broken into a highly secret military database and got caught. He’d been in a lot of trouble and would have been in more if he had caused any damage, and if his professors hadn’t pulled strings for him. Also the military had wanted to hire the man who had broken into what they thought was a completely secure site. So, after two months in prison where he underwent full psychiatric and psychological assessment, he had ended up working on the military base for three years as a sentence.

There was a conditional sentence, and with satisfactory performance the usual permanent flag was not set for my records, but is to be activated if I ever have a law infraction, however minor. Gingezel Security knows this. I volunteered information to them.

Dreen had no intentions of saying Joran of course knew since they’d been roommates at the time, and he was part of the Gingezel Consortium. He had no right to let that be known.

As a consequence the consortium had me take a full P2 psychiatric and psychological profile before agreeing to my, or my company, working for them. Joran has lost that fight and apologized, but it hadn’t been all that bad compared to the assessment the courts had put him through. I am prepared to have them release that to you.

Terrific, Trebur thought. The one thing he did know was that he had no authorization to look at a P2. In fact, he had no idea if anyone at the Farr Judiciary did, since these were Galactic psychiatric profiles, and the Farr sector was outside Galactic jurisdiction. There was bound to be someone authorized to view a P3, since employers use them for highly sensitive and top secret jobs all over the galaxy. But a P2? He didn’t even know anyone who had undergone one. Trebur had only seen them as part of plots for holodramas, where some psychopathic criminal was given one.

That was hardly a reassuring thought, and for a moment Trebur’s poker face faltered as he looked at Dreen. Still, he told himself, this guy is walking around loose so he must not be psychotic or anything like that. And he is working for Gingezel Security. Still, the whole idea of a P2 made him very uncomfortable.

The other thing Trebur was sure of was that his chance of talking to Gingezel Security had just disappeared. He would have to pass this on to the Judiciary and they would take over. He eyed Dreen with a mixture of wariness and disappointment. The man was obviously waiting for him to say something. But what?

At his most formal Trebur said, Thank you for passing on this information. Do you agree that the recording of this conversation acts as authorization to approach Gingezel Security about your work there and your P2?

Dreen said equally formally, I agree.

Trebur said, No doubt they will have something they want signed. I’ll let you know.

Thank you. Dreen relaxed a bit. It had not been as bad as he’d expected.

*****

Chapter 5

When Dreen returned to the analysis area Mitra was back in her isolated corner, deep in some discussion with Azlo and didn’t look up. It looked like she’d miss part of his installing the hyperweb after all. Dreen decided this was just as well, since he was clumsy enough without her as an audience. Tranngol had obviously been watching for him to return though, because he was walking over in the company of a statuesque black woman. Like the rest of the Dellmaice Power Systems staff she was dressed in heavy pants and a ski jacket, and she