The Infinity Link by Jeffrey A. Carver Page A

stammers, "You—you have a lot to lose, Mozy."
    She snorts, staring down into her beer.
    More than you imagine, he adds silently. Aloud he says, "Anyway, Bill would never let you do it."
    She raises her eyes. "Couldn't you do it for me?"
    "Hah! What about security? Do you know the trouble you could get into for something like that?"
    "You mean I could lose my job?" She shrugs. "I'm losing it anyway. My friends, and everything I want, are at the job. As it stands now, I'll have nothing when I leave."
    That hits him like a punch in the chest. My friends . . . are at the job. So far as he knows, he is her only friend at the job. And Kadin, of course. But she must care for him, as well as Kadin, to have made that statement. He feels a band of tension across his forehead, making it harder than ever to think clearly. It's as though a part of his mind has slipped through a hole in the continuum, leaving him feeling at once connected and disconnected. It's hard to know what to say—and he stammers, "We . . . could stay friends . . . even after you leave."
    Mozy has not moved; she seems in a trance. "There's really nothing to lose," she murmurs somberly. Suddenly she tilts her head, as though she has just heard his last words. She touches the cool line of her scar and laughs, a sighing sound that passes through him like a breeze through the trees. "Yes—of course, Hoshi!" She touches his wrist, and warm energy flows through him. "What would I do without you? My god, you've been my best friend there!"
    Smiling dizzily, reassured, he tries to respond. "I—Mozy, I want to help you. Really I do."
    "Do you think you can find a way?" she asks eagerly.
    He gestures helplessly. "You can't just walk in and use the transmitter. It's not like that—and besides, it's under security."
    "Security isn't that tight there," she points out. "And we both have clearances."
    "But not for that."
    She pleads with him. "Isn't there some way to do it? Can't you help me find a way?" Her voice is tormented, and he finds it increasingly hard to resist.
    "It might be theoretically possible," he says haltingly, "but that doesn't mean it's feasible."
    "Hoshi, you're smart," she says, and there is no flattery, there is only sincerity in her voice. "You know the computers and the codes, and I'll bet if you helped me, we could do this. I'll accept the responsibility for whatever trouble I'm in. I just have to do it. I have to see Kadin. Don't you understand? "
    He tries to think this through clearly, but it's like trying to organize a blizzard. Yes, he can probably find a way; he can beat security if anyone can, and cracking the computer codes would be child's play. But she doesn't understand, she doesn't know the full truth, and he can't tell her.
    But . . .
     . . .there is one way he might do it. Not exactly the way she imagines. It would be risky—but she's dying to meet her love, and if Kadin means so much to her, then he'll help her—and then she'll understand.
    "Please, Hoshi?" she whispers. She leans across the table imploringly, and her gaze reverberates with his.
    He bows his head, trying to quell the sound of pounding blood, and thinks: Help you? Oh yes, dear Mozy, I'll help you if that's what you want. You are a sorceress, Mozy, and if fingers dancing on a console or a mind lashed to a computer can help you, then I'm the one to do it. He lifts the glass and sips; it's cool going down.
    "Will you?" she whispers.
    Nodding shakily, he says, "It—yes—it may be possible. I'll—I'll have to see, to think about it, find a way."
    Mozy smiles crookedly, and her hand touches his wrist, lingering this time. She starts talking again—planning aloud—but he hardly hears her, he's thinking so hard himself. There are many things he's unsure of, things they've never told him; he'll have to probe delicately, finesse his way into programs he's never been allowed to touch. But he can do it, he's sure of that; they'll never suspect him, and if