Ascendant Sun: A New Novel in the Saga of the Skolian Empire (24 page)

Attending.
In silent jubilation, he went to work. A fast search told him the unit had many special features he didn't recognize. However, a solution existed to his lack of knowledge. He pulled a tiny jack off the palmtop and slid it through the hole in his wrist guard, clicking it into his socket. He hid the motion with his hand. The palmtop had no psiber capability, but it might link to his biomech web.
Bolt,
he thought.
Can you answer?
No response.
Hiding his disappointment, he tried again.
Bolt, send permission from Raziquon allowing me to use this shuttle.
He counted seconds in his mind:
one, two, three, four, five—
A message formed on the screen:
Kelric?
He almost shouted.
Bolt! Can you do it?
My greetings. I got you access to the shuttle. But you've been denied permission to use it.
The shuttle did him no good if he couldn't go anywhere.
How do I get permission?
As a provider, you are forbidden to pilot spacecraft.
I'm a rim-walker.
You're listed in the web as a provider.
How can I be? I'm on a rim-walk.
After a pause, the palmtop printed:
Permission granted.
The nuances in Bolt's glyphs showed a dry humor Kelric had never seen before. He wondered what Bolt had been doing all those years while he was cut off from talking with it.
Smart computer,
he thought. Then he went to the air-lock tube. Using his knowledge of the decon panel, he managed this one on the second try. When the hatch opened, he floated into the tube for the shuttle. Just two more meters—
"You have violated security," a voice said. Behind him, the air-lock door thunked closed. "Do not attempt to leave." In front of him, the air took on a distorted quality.
What the hell?
He touched the distortion. An invisible wall had formed in front of him, like a solid membrane. Swiveling around in the air, he found another membrane blocking his exit.
The presence of the membranes themselves didn't surprise him. Molecular air locks had been standard even in his time, with mechanical air locks as a backup. Normally he could walk through the membrane. It clung to his body, forming a seal, then resumed its shape after he passed. Its nanomeds stored the memory of its structure. On a normal setting, it was impermeable only to gases. However, applying certain potentials to it activated new enzymes, making it impermeable to other things. Like humans.
Bolt,
he thought, floating in the slice of space between the membranes.
What happened?
More glyphs appeared on the palmtop.
I'm checking.
The nuances suggested Bolt was confused, in its computerized way.
Kelric strained to hear if anyone had entered the decon chamber. Any moment the hub officials could burst in here.
Bolt, come on.
A new set of glyphs appeared.
This is illogical.
Dryly Kelric thought,
Can you be more specific?
I'm using this unit's IR capability to check a spy monitor in this tube. The monitor hasn't notified anyone you're trapped. It no longer registers your presence. Every means of communication from this tube has been cut.
Kelric fought down a spike of claustrophobia. The membrane would let nothing pass, neither gas nor human. In such a small space he would soon suffocate.
Did Raziquon's palmtop activate this?
Checking.
Kelric waited. It seemed forever, though he knew it had only been minutes. He could almost smell the air growing stale.
Bolt? Did you find anything?
No.
Then Bolt printed,
Yes! Someone sabotaged the palmtop. That person hid a sleeper code on it, one set to wake up if Raziquon entered a docking tube without backup. I estimate 91 percent probability that an Aristo seeking Raziquon's death installed the code.
Kelric stared at the palmtop as if it had sprouted eyestalks. Of all the godforsaken bad luck, he had to be caught in an assassination trap laid by one Aristo for another. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so fatal.
Bolt, this isn't good.
Your assessment is accurate, if not precise.
Who cares if it's precise? if I'm dead, I'm dead.
I'm afraid that's both accurate and precise.
Kelric braced his back against one membrane and pushed against the other with his feet. It gave slightly, then snapped back to its original form when he eased his pressure.
Can we do anything to weaken these membranes?
With web access, I might be able to hack the membrane generator and turn it off.
Hope washed over Kelric.
All right. Let's work on that.
I have no web access. This tube has been cut off from the station.
Bolt cleared the screen and printed new glyphs.
Also, if I enter any web, I will be tracked.
Kelric gave a wan laugh.
So this is an Aristo-proof trap.
It appears so.
What resources do I have that an Aristo doesn't?
A conscience.
Bolt, are you becoming philosophical in your old age?
He pushed again against the membrane behind him.
I've missed you.
And I you.
Kelric blinked.
You're a military computer. How can you feel lonely for me
?
I don't know, it admitted. Nevertheless it seems to be true. I prefer you not die. As a psion, can you reach others and bring them here? If you're suffocating, they would probably let you out even if they felt compelled to call for backup first.
Kelric considered.
It wouldn't be hard to knock them out. Or they might want to come with me. To escape.
Hope shaded Bolt's glyphs.
For this plan, I calculate a success probability of 4 to 89 percent.
Kelric smiled.
That's terrible precision.
Bolt's glyphs indicated amusement.
We can try.
Closing his eyes, he tried sending
someone needs help
messages to the concourse. With the air lock and decon chamber in the way, he had trouble detecting people. His head began to throb. Even if he did reach someone, he wasn't sure he could alter that person's behavior. It was one thing to have a heightened sense of moods; it was another to transform that awareness into action.
He touched three minds at the same time. Startled, he jerked back. Someone was taking three providers to another shuttle. Although they might have sensed him, they had no means to help.
Again he probed the concourse. After a few minutes a response feathered across his mind. He focused, honing his message:
Help is needed in air-lock tube eighteen.
Several moments later, the faint hiss of a decon hatch came through the walls of his prison. He relaxed his concentration and the pain in his head receded. He felt tired. Sleepy.
"No," he muttered. He couldn't let lack of oxygen stop him now. He had to be alert.
The hatch opened and a young woman drifted into the tube. A provider. She was silver: collar, cuffs, eyes, even the tint of her skin. Kelric's breath caught. Silver curls floated around her head and shoulders like a halo. Her body undulated in free fall. The filmy drapes she wore swirled around her, giving tantalizing hints of her hourglass figure and a silver chain around her hips.
"Can you let me out?" he asked in Highton.
Her confusion rippled over him. "How did you get in there?" The membrane gave her words a muffled quality.
"I'm not sure." He was growing light-headed. "I'm running out of air. Can you help me?"
"How?"
He looked at his palmtop.
Bolt, quick! What can she do?
The air-lock controls are on her right. She must enter the codes.
"I'll tell you glyph codes," Kelric said. "Enter them on the panel." Even if she couldn't read, she would know the pictures if he gave enough detail.
"Panel?" she asked.
"On the wall next to you. With the lights and little circles."
She scanned the bulkhead. "Oh. Yes. I can draw on the screen."
He exhaled. "Good."
As Bolt gave him the glyphs, Kelric described them and the girl drew them on the panel. It took so long. His eyes drooped close. Tired. He needed to rest.
Someone was hitting the membrane. He opened his eyes. The girl. She looked distraught. Why didn't she release the air-lock?
He glanced at the palmtop. A final row of glyphs remained. He tried to tell her, but he was too sleepy. As darkness closed around him, the palmtop slid out of his hand and drifted away.

The provider's face came into focus above Kelric. Her worried look shifted like quicksilver into a smile. They were drifting in free fall, still within the tube, he with his head cradled in her lap. Moving slowly, to favor his headache, he found a grip on the bulkhead and pulled himself upright. The membranes had disappeared.
"You'll be all right now," she said. Her lyrical voice made him think of mercury. Her eyes were silver pools. He wondered why Aristos so often modeled their providers after precious metals or gems. Because they saw them as pretty machines? The line between human and machine had become so blurred anyway, it was hard to define.
"How did you open the air lock?" he asked.
"I saw the symbols on your palmtop. When it slid out of your hand."
He exhaled.
Bolt, if you made it slide that way, you have my eternal thanks.
To the girl he said, "I am in your debt."
She blushed and averted her eyes. He inhaled her pheromones, not only those the Aristos had designed into her, but also those that all psions produced. With so many fatal mutations associated with Kyle genes, the Kyle pheromones were a survival mechanism. They drew fertile psions together with an instinct stronger even than that which drove Earth's salmon upstream to reproduce. So natural selection made sure viable Kyle genes propagated themselves.
His voice gentled. "Why are you alone here in the hub?"
"You were also alone," she pointed out.
"I'm a rim-walker."
She tapped his temple. "Provider."
"But I'm on the rim crew now." Before he realized it, he had turned his head and kissed her palm. His response didn't come from desire, but from the recognition of like for like.
She cupped her palm around his cheek. Then she withdrew her hand. "I am to meet Lord Muze in the decon chamber when his yacht arrives."
Kelric had a sudden desire to punch Lord Muze. "I'm sorry."
She regarded him with her liquid gaze. "Why?"
Why indeed? For all he knew, she and Muze were going to have a great time. "Do you like him?"
She averted her gaze. "He is a great Diamond."
"That's not what I asked."
"His greatness exalts those he touches."
"Do you like him?"
"He honors me with his attention."
"You hate him."
The girl undulated away from him. "I have to go."
"Wait." He grabbed the palmtop, which was floating by his arm, its lead still attached to his wrist. On the screen Bolt had printed:

You're welcome.
Bolt, is this area still unmonitored?
he asked.
Yes.
Good.
He looked up at the provider. "Come with me."
"No!" She stiffened. "I must go now."
He caught her hand. "I'll leave you with Shuttle Four. It's designed for interstellar travel. If I don't return, it will take you to Skolia. You'll be free."
"You are crazy." Her fear washed over him. All she could think was that she must be on time for her appointment, to keep Muze happy and minimize his violence.
"You can come with me," he said. He wasn't attracted to her in a sexual sense, not even with the overwhelming pheromones and her great beauty. What he had to offer her was worth far more than a few moments of pleasure. He could give her freedom.
"The monitors will stop you."
"They aren't watching."
"You are forbidden to leave."
"I don't care."
She pulled her hand away from him. "You will make trouble for me." Her voice softened. "Don't do this, sunshine man. If you try to go, they will hurt you even more."
"Not if they can't catch me."
Pressing her palm against the bulkhead, she pushed herself back toward the decon chamber. "You cannot run."
"Why not?"
"They forbid it."
"I don't give a damn what 'they' say."
She held out her hand. "I don't want you hurt. Do what they want and you will be happier."
"They have no right."
"Of course they do." She started to leave. "I must hurry."
"Wait!" He knew he might have to stop her anyway. "You can't tell anyone you saw me."
Puzzlement flowed from her mind. "Why would they ask?"
"Don't say anything about me. No matter what."
"I will not tell. But don't make me go with you. Please."
He flushed, realizing she had caught his thought of stopping her. That worked both ways, though; he could tell she meant what she said. She would guard his secret. No one had reason to suspect she knew anything, so they wouldn't ask. Unless he made her late.
Yet still he hesitated. What if she forgot her promise? "Come with me."
"No." She propelled herself into the decon chamber.
He decided against going after her. Instead he went to the shuttle. When he opened its hatch, a molecular air lock glimmered before him. Here in the bay, they didn't actually need air locks; the membrane formed as a precaution, lest a leak develop. Was it solid? Tensing, he stepped forward. The membrane clung to him like a soap bubble as he entered the ship. Although he had gone through this process with Shuttle Four on Tarquine's ship, he remembered none of it, only his desperation to escape.
The small shuttle only had four seats. He strode to the front and dropped into the pilot's seat. Grids and lights gleamed as panels folded around him, shifting to accommodate his large size.
"Prepare to leave," he said.
"Enter access codes, license, and permissions," its EI said.
He glanced at the palmtop.
Bolt, do I have all that?
Its glyphs floated on the screen.
I have codes and permissions. I'm still trying to crack the file with Raziquon's license.
Hurry!
I've opened its outer shell. Plug me into the shuttle and I'll transfer the entire file.
Kelric pulled the jack out of his wrist and clicked it into a socket in the arm of his chair.
"License verified," the shuttle said. "Prepare for departure."
As the engines thrummed, he fastened the safety mesh around his body. "Activate forward holomap."
The screen in front of him glowed with swirls and speckles. A 3-D display formed above it, showing the docking bay outside, as if he were looking out a window. He didn't see much, just the curving wall of the bay. Then its doors opened like a great flower bud. A clang shuddered through the shuttle as the docking clamps retracted. With a surge of power, the ship moved into space.