"As a result of the recent terrorist attacks, we now have incontrovertible evidence of coordinated acts of hostility against the Federation by the remaining followers of the Ormus religion. Therefore, I propose to the Executive Committee and the Parliament the following resolution, effective immediately: that we will respond with any and all force necessary to deter further aggression, and that we recognize the previous attacks as an implicit declaration of war against the Federation Government."

On the screen, the planetary representative from Tessedora folded her hands and settled back into her seat, and the transmission window went blank as the recording ended.

"I see what you mean," said Juli. "It's hard to argue with the need for self defense. I can understand why you didn't."

Helmer nodded, his hologram replacing the blank transmission window. "Well, I had pressure from the Second Miltian Parliament, not to mention public opinion. The vote was unanimous. The entire Federation's in favor of doing away with these madmen, and I don't blame them. Still ...."

"Yes, there's something not right about this. I have a feeling we've been provoked, and all of this is playing into our enemies' hands somehow." Juli sighed. "But it's not just Ormus I'm worried about."

"You're right. The hardliners in Parliament seem positively thrilled by all this," said Helmer. "They have almost enough support to start another witch hunt."

"Yes, thank you for reminding me. I needed something else to keep me up at night."

He grimaced. "Sorry. Any word from Vector?"

"I got a call from Third Division yesterday." She bit her lip and stared at the edge of her desktop, fighting to keep it in focus. The Vector representative had explained that they had managed to restart MOMO's operating system in her original frame, but her responses were all automatic, pre-programmed reflexes based on calculations from her artificial personality layer. "They can start her up, but they can't revive her consciousness," said Juli. "They haven't determined yet what the problem is."

Helmer was silent for a long time. "I'm very sorry to hear that."

"Don't humor me." The edge of the desk had begun to waver and she didn't dare look up now. "I think I'd prefer if we just talked politics," she said, knowing it would offend him. They had been more than just political allies for years, and even Juli had to admit she considered him a friend as well as a colleague. But right now, she was too upset to care. She wanted to offend someone. She felt as though she had swallowed broken glass and the sharp edges were pushing their way through her skin. It was how she used to feel all the time, and she wondered how she had ever been able to stand it.

"I understand." If her remark had upset him, he gave no indication, and Juli felt both disappointed and relieved. "In that case, we certainly have a lot to discuss. I gave Captain Roman a copy of the program you decoded, the one you used to access the shadow network. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her what you'd uncovered; you'd think she had just been handed the Rosetta Stone."

Juli tried to imagine Lapis Roman with any expression other than a scowl of determination, and finally gave up and decided to take Helmer's word for it. "The Rosetta Stone?"

"An artifact that made it possible to translate certain ancient languages on Lost Jerusalem. I'm surprised you hadn't heard of it. Anyway, she's been using the program to monitor communications on the shadow network, in the hope that it may give us some clues as to where they plan on attacking next."

"I suppose that will come in useful now that we're at war with them," Juli said tightly.

"I don't doubt that it will." He paused. "I understand you're meeting with the Contact Subcommittee today?"

"Yes, later this afternoon. I'm giving them the same report I sent to you." She had spent the last few days preparing it, incorporating the data they had obtained from monitoring the shadow network and the records she had been able to salvage from the dive. The only thing she hadn't mentioned explicitly in the report was the identity of the consciousness that MOMO and Ziggy had encountered on the network, and that was because she could still hardly believe it herself.

As for the rest, the existence of an underground network coordinating the Ormus groups was no longer a secret, not since the attacks a few days ago; but only a few people, Juli among them, knew the extent to which it had metastasized across the AMN. After today the SOCE would know as well, but she could already predict that they would advise keeping it a secret for as long as possible. If the public found out, the backlash against the AMN Development Committee and Administrative Bureau would be immense. The press might even accuse the Development Committee--and by implication Vector and Scientia, perhaps even Juli herself--of collaborating with Ormus, concealing the other network until it had grown out of control.

Juli had enough experience in politics to know it was only a matter of time before word got out anyway, and if the AMN Development Committee didn't want to look guilty, they would have to defend themselves with the truth, by finding out who was responsible before the rumors started. She hadn't yet ruled out the possibility that the Nov-OS corporation might be involved; even if Nov-OS hadn't created the shadow network, they might still be using it to communicate with the terrorists. After speaking with Doctus a few days ago, Juli had done additional research on her own, querying the records from the AMN Bureau's ruling on corporate networks, and now she understood how Nov-OS had managed to sway the ruling in its own favor; the company had contributed enough to the campaign funds of certain leading members of Parliament to purchase a substantial reserve of goodwill and a degree of legal immunity as well. But she hadn't found any evidence that would link them directly to Ormus, and even if she had, it wouldn't necessarily make any difference. Nov-OS had more than enough political clout to emerge unscathed from any accusation she could level at them. With reluctance, Juli had filed away the lead on Nov-OS as a dead end, at least for now.

MOMO's upgrade to the AMN operating system had prevented any further hacking attempts against the axis, but the rest of the network remained unsecured. The AMN Bureau had advised imposing a lockdown on network activity, warning against prolonged or unnecessary dives and issuing a list of safety precautions for communication and hyperspace travel. Scientia and the AMN Division at Vector had begun research on a more comprehensive solution, but it would be difficult without MOMO's help; no one knew the operating system as well as she did. At best, her sacrifice had bought time for the Federation and its allies to consider their next move.

Which meant, effectively, that Juli was on her own. She didn't expect much help from the government, preoccupied as it was in preparation for the grim festivities of war. She thought Ziggy might have some idea of how to proceed, but the few disjointed answers she had managed to draw out from him hadn't eased her concerns, and she hadn't wanted to question him further in his present state, when he hardly seemed to understand what she was asking. Still, there was one subject on which he remained coherent, even insistent.

"He's targeting me," he had said, in the monotone he used when he was too upset to let on that he was upset, "which means he'll probably try to target you. So I want you to be on guard constantly. Don't let anything distract you, even for a moment. Especially if you're using the AMN. We don't know where or how he'll attack next."

But aside from warning her about Voyager, Ziggy had hardly spoken at all since the dive. Juli could only guess at how deeply MOMO's disappearance had affected him. He hadn't mentioned her name once after it happened; if he knew how MOMO had managed to get lost in the shadow network, he never explained. When Juli sat down to talk to him about MOMO's condition and the updates on her status from Vector, he had listened silently, impassively, without any response. Juli couldn't tell if he even comprehended what she was saying, or if he had somehow managed to block MOMO from his mind entirely.

At least now she understood why he had so much difficulty retrieving his own memories; it was as if he built a mental wall around anything painful and pretended that whatever was behind the wall didn't exist anymore, until eventually he forgot there had ever been a wall in the first place. By now his mind must be a labyrinth of barriers and shut-down places and dead ends, memories he was unwilling and unable to recall. If that was how he had managed to endure all these years, she didn't envy him, as much as she wished she could forget her own pain as easily.

He had asked to accompany her to work these last few days, and Juli had obliged at first, as much for his own peace of mind as for hers. But while he was on bodyguard duty he acted as if he didn't know her; he stood in the anteroom outside her personal office and barely acknowledged her presence when she walked by. Today she had insisted that he stay at home and get some rest, as much for her own peace of mind as for his.

After she got off the line with Helmer, she glanced over her report one more time, then cleared a space on her desk and put her head down and buried her face in her arms. Juli hadn't cried properly since before the incident, but the overwhelming urge to do so had surfaced countless times in the last few days. Each time, she felt only the sharpness in her eyes that preceded tears, the tightness in her throat that sobbing would have relieved, but the relief never arrived. When Sakura died she had wept almost constantly for days, but now she found herself incapable of release, unable to let go because she still held on to the hope that MOMO could be repaired.

With Ziggy, at least Juli had been able to execute a logout sequence to evacuate him from the network safely, but she had failed to make contact with MOMO, and after agonizing over the decision, Juli had disconnected her before the network grew too unstable to get her out at all. As a result of either the forced logout or whatever had happened to her consciousness before that, MOMO's neural network had suffered massive damage, and Juli had sent her back to Vector's Third Division for emergency maintenance. Her new transgenic body was undergoing repairs now, and in the meantime, at Juli's instruction, the employees of Vector had attempted to revive MOMO's consciousness by transferring her root data into her previous frame. So far they had only managed to induce a few knee-jerk reactions by activating her synthetic personality; if MOMO was still there, she was as impossible to reach as Sakura had been.

Along with everything else--the threat from the shadow network, the impending crisis of war--it was too much for Juli to handle on her own, and she felt perversely justified in blaming MOMO and Ziggy for abandoning her when she needed their support, even though she knew it wasn't really their fault. The last few days had left her beyond exhaustion; she wanted to sleep for just one night without being interrupted by emergency calls or kept awake by the turmoil of her own thoughts, but she didn't expect to be granted that opportunity any time soon.

She got up, went down the hall to the restroom, splashed water on her face. When she came back to her office, she downloaded her report for the SOCE onto her connection gear along with the backup data for a few other projects she was working on, and then she straightened up her desk and headed out. The meeting began in a few hours, which gave her just enough time to get to the orbital elevator terminal and endure the long ride to the station; at least she could get some work done on the way up.

∞

She returned to their apartment later than usual that evening, as she always did on days when she had meetings with the Subcommittee--a consequence of the eight-hour commute to the orbital tower and back. The living room was dark when she arrived, but he was still awake, dimly outlined in the glare of artificial light from beyond the courtyard. He wasn't in the habit of turning on lights when he was at home by himself, and sometimes it unnerved her to find him standing there in the dark. But it must seem like daylight to him, with his enhanced night vision.

He didn't move when she came in, although he must have been aware of her presence. For the moment he was an inanimate object, as static and permanent as everything else in the room, no less a fixture of his surroundings than the furniture and the piano. The piano--and her throat tightened when she saw it, standing there in the middle of the room like the skeleton of some extinct animal from Lost Jerusalem. Relics from the past.

Although she knew he could sense her approach, she crossed the floor as quietly as possible and came up beside him, bringing her arm around his waist. He didn't resist or pull away, but he didn't respond in kind either. It was like trying to embrace a post.

"I requested time off to visit the Dämmerung tomorrow," she said, half to herself, because she didn't expect him to answer. "You're welcome to come along."

He responded exactly as she thought he would--with no response at all. Under normal circumstances he might have been surprised, since Juli rarely missed a day at the office, and even when she did, it didn't mean she wouldn't be working. It just meant she would be filing most of her reports for the day from her connection gear instead of from her office terminal. But if the news surprised him now, he didn't let it show. He stood motionless, eyes fixed straight ahead.

She tried to follow his gaze but it led nowhere, out into the blur of lights over the city. Then she saw the blank dark spaces of the flowerbeds like open graves in the courtyard, and remembered the cold snap a few nights ago, the feathery traces of frost on the window glass in the morning, her breath turning white as she stepped outside. She turned back toward him, straining to see into his eyes, but there was nothing in them either. "Jan," she whispered, "please ...." But she couldn't go on; she didn't know what she was pleading for, only that she wanted something that wasn't there.

He tilted his head in her direction, regarded her with uncertainty, as if he had never seen her before. "What is it?" he said, and there was no accusation in the words, no meaning attached to them at all. A prompt for his next set of instructions.

"Nothing," said Juli. Swallowing broken glass, she left him there and went alone to bed.

∞

Because she didn't have to go to her office the next morning, she rose an hour later than usual, and for once she found him awake first, unless he had never gone to sleep at all. He stood where she had left him, in front of the door to the courtyard, facing indoors now, watching her pace back and forth across the apartment as she got ready to leave. When she went to her bedroom to do her hair and makeup, he followed her down the hall and stopped in the doorway like an observer at an unfamiliar ritual.

"I'd like to go with you."

Startled, she turned from the mirror. "You're--"

"I'm concerned it might not be safe for you to travel alone. I'm willing to accompany you if necessary."

Juli had turned around holding a comb, and now she gripped it so hard the teeth bit into her palm. "Fine." She glanced back at the mirror and jerked the comb through her hair in terse, angry strokes. "Do what you want."

He was silent, and when she turned around again he had gone from the doorway. Less than an hour later, they both left the apartment together.