Near Mustapha’s Daily Goods
Tehran, Iran
June 15, 8:12 p.m.
“Oracle,” said Violin.
“Oracle welcomes you, Violin.”
“I need to talk to my mother. Now. Priority Alpha.”
This order bypassed the computer’s AI conversation functions and sent an urgent request to Lilith. It took seventeen nail-biting seconds before the screen changed to show a live streaming image of Violin’s mother.
“Status report,” said Lilith instead of a greeting.
“The Sabbatarians sent two full teams against Captain Ledger.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.” She explained what happened and braced herself for the scolding she knew would follow the admission of having stepped in to help the DMS agent.
“Good.” Lilith frowned and her gaze turned inward as she sorted it through. After a few moments she demanded, “What about you? Are you unhurt?”
“Yes, Mother.”
There was a slight softening of Lilith’s stern mouth. “Good. You did the right thing.”
The comment hit Violin like a punch; and Lilith caught her expression. “I…”
“Close your mouth, girl, before you swallow a fly.”
Violin took a steadying breath and said, “What do you want me to do next?”
“What do you think you should do next?”
Several seconds flitted past as Violin thought it through. Then she told her mother.
Lilith’s tolerant smile vanished entirely.
“What choice do we have?” asked Violin.
“None,” said Lilith bitterly. “None at all.”