Chaos Quarter (16 page)

“
Most changes are consistent with standard growth and die-off in human nerve cells. This region shows a significant change
.”

Both images zoomed into the small protrusion at the base of her brain, the lump that he figured was responsible for Second’s complete lack of free will. The earlier picture showed a dozen nerve bundles connecting it to her otherwise normal brain. The new picture showed only seven connections, clustered on the left.

“
Connections with her right hemisphere have been severed
,” the computer pointed out.

“Right brain, responsible for emotion, creative things,” Rex thought out loud.

“
Yes
.”

“Makes sense,” Rex replied. First she’d been staring at an intolerably cute child, like any woman and most men would. Then she’d found herself responding to the oldest drive in the human body. Control over her emotional side had degraded.

Some element of free will now exists,
he realized.

“Is this injury consistent with the blow she took when the intruders were on board?” Rex asked.

“
It could easily have been caused by such a blow
,” the computer replied.

He thought for a moment, only to be interrupted by Quintus’s crying. The screams struck a chord.

“Get up, follow me,” he said to Second.

As he left he glimpsed the corpse of the ambassador out of the corner of his eye.
Didn’t he have an abrasion on his temple—

Another wail broke his concentration. He grabbed Second by the hand and led her down the hallway. Lucius had left his door open. Chakrika held Quintus, rocking him gently to try and quiet him. Lucius dug around for a new diaper. Rex entered the already crowded room, standing Second next to him.

“What—what are you doing?” Chakrika asked, staring warily at Second.

“Just trust me,” Rex said and then turned to Second. “Stand right here by my side. Do not, under any circumstance, go to the child.”

She stood stock still. Quintus continued bawling. Lucius picked up the child, laying him out on a towel on his bed so he could change him. As he cleaned and dried his wet son, the boy’s cries intensified.

Second broke, bending low to put herself at the boy’s level. Chakrika bolted up, stunned, but Rex motioned her with an open palm to hold back. Lucius watched, uneasy, as Second’s fingers began to stroke the boy’s head. She made soothing sounds in his ear. Clearly uncomfortable, Lucius quickly finished changing the child, handing him back to Chakrika. Second stood back up, returning to her position beside Rex without a word.

“What in four hells is this, Rex?” Lucius asked. “Did you instruct her to do that beforehand?”

“No,” Rex replied, “This is a glimpse.”

“A glimpse? Of what?” Chakrika asked.

“The person she should be.”

* * *

Chakrika sat in the pilot’s station. Her left foot slowly worked the rotation pedals. The ship made a lazy counterclockwise roll as it flew, but kept on course. Rex had set the computer to return them to the never-ending green line on the viewscreen if she screwed up too badly.

“You would think all this spinning would get a person nauseous,” she remarked.

Lucius, sitting at his station with Quintus in his arms, smiled, saying, “It’s the ship’s gravity. We always feel upright no matter what our eyes see.”

Chakrika brought it back into level flight.

“They teach you that in nobleman’s school?” she asked playfully.

“No. I was trained as a fighter pilot. Ships that small are not big enough for grav generators, so if the rotations don’t make you sick, the zero-G will,” he spoke.

She turned her gaze to the child. He had his eyes open, large and brown and staring inquisitively at anything and everything around him. They locked on her while his mouth gummed happily on his hand.

“I think he misses his mother,” Lucius spoke.

“I don’t mean to be blunt, but I don’t think he remembers her,” Chakrika replied, before noticing that Lucius was staring at her with a warm smile. Realization struck her a second later. Were her skin capable of it, she would have blushed.

“Here,” Lucius said, putting him in her arms. “Show my little one how to fly spaceships.”

He crouched next to her, watching as Chakrika directed the boy’s tiny hand on the attitude lever. She wrapped her hand around his and spun the ship to the left until it faced backward, then spun it back center. Being a month old, Quintus, predictably, had no idea of what was going on and seemed amazed simply at his arm’s ability to move to the left. When she sat back, he batted the air playfully.

“A natural,” she said, turning to Lucius. His face was only inches from hers, the scent of him immediate. She hesitated and then turned away quickly.

“M-maybe you can show him how the guns work,” she stammered awkwardly, instantly regretting it.

A sadness came to his eyes, even if his face retained its traditional blank façade. He stood back up and rubbed her shoulder reassuringly.

“Perhaps later,” he replied. “He seems happy.”

She heard his footsteps as he left the bridge. A sadness then came over her, an emptiness she was all too familiar with. She shifted Quintus to her other leg and kissed his head.

“I’ll teach you how to fly when I’m done learning,” she whispered to the child. “Just don’t ask me to explain love.”

* * *

Rex saw Lucius disappear into his cabin, the look of a shattered heart etched into the lines around his eyes.
Just in case things might get boring…

He didn’t have time right now to console either his lovelorn gunner or the pilot-in-training who, he figured, had the ship currently spinning like a top at one tenth the speed of light. He was thinking about the task ahead of him.

Running from strange bioships and planning ways to disguise his engine trace had kept him busy before, but now he had time to wonder. And his wondering invariably focused on the most unusual member of his motley crew. If Second was becoming truly human, he had a short window to take advantage of her absolute obedience and learn all he could about this “Perfected Hegemony.” At least that’s what he told himself. Deep down he feared he was merely looking to uncover other horrible things done to her, to reinforce the promise he’d made to Chaki. To look for more reasons to justify freeing her.

Since when do you need more justification than freedom itself
?

His mind repeated the question as he entered the common room.

She sat patiently at the table, wearing one of Chakrika’s old jumpsuits. It fit tighter than it should due to her greater height, but they had no other clothing for her. Second’s eyes followed him as he moved to the kitchen. He mixed some flavored sugar powder into a glass of water and then took a seat opposite her.

“Computer, record visually and audibly everything said in this conversation.”

There was no response, but he didn’t need one.

“Second, I want you tell me everything you can about the Hegemony,” he spoke.

If spilling secrets about her creators bothered her, she didn’t show it.

“What do you wish to know?” she asked predictably.

“Well, to start with, is that body, the ambassador’s, human?”

“He is not
homo sapiens
,” she answered. “They refer to themselves as
homo superioris
. The bodies they choose are predominantly made out of primitive human genetic material, but have been modified with contributions from numerous other species.”

“Such as?” Rex asked.

“I was not designed to know the specifics of their design,” she replied.

“OK. I want to clarify something. You have repeatedly referred to their ‘bodies.’ Am I correct in understanding that they can transfer their consciousness from one physical form to the next?” Rex asked.

“Their brains are regularly moved in a physical transfer. They can inhabit any body designed with proper nerve connections and a large enough cavity to fit their brain tissue.”

Rex nodded. His mind wanted to consider the implications of this, but he needed to stay focused.

“What about your mind, Second?” he asked. “Has it been ‘transferred?’”

“Nine times,” she replied.

His eyes went wide.

“Wait—what? Nine times?!”

“Yes. The Second line was created when it was determined that it would be necessary for the ambassador to discourage travel into Hegemony space. My mind has been transferred nine times since then.”

“If you have no will of your own and are not a ‘Master,’ why would they move your mind from one body to the next?” he asked.

“To take advantage of linguistic experience that I have gained over the years. The bodies of the Second line have been improved in the last century to better persuade male diplomats through pheromone secretion and better serve the ambassador as a translating faculty. When physical aging has rendered a body no longer capable of these duties, it is replaced.”

Rex let out a heavy breath, taking a long drink. His head hurt.

“How old are you, er—how long has your mind existed?” Rex asked.

“Ninety-seven years. In that time it has suffered two murders and seven replacements due to age.”

“Murders?”

“Yes. Homeostasis in this body has been terminated by the violent actions of others twice.”

“Do you remember these deaths?” he asked.

“I do,” she replied without a trace of emotion.

He moved to ask another question, but paused. Her left fist was balled, muscles taut under her skin.

“Note that her left hand is making a fist,” Rex said to the computer. Second noticed it and relaxed the hand. Rex pushed on, asking, “How old is your current body?”

“Three Rapanui years,” she replied.

“Rapanui, is that a ‘Hegemony’ planet?” Rex asked.

“It is.”

“OK, right. Second, since your civilization possesses the ability to move brains from one body to the next, how old are the ‘Masters’ you serve?”

“The ambassador is 204 years old. The oldest Master known is 246 years old.”

“Do they ever die?” Rex asked. “Besides the ambassador?”

“Death is possible, but rare. The last death of a Master was in a landslide thirty-four years ago.”

“How many Masters are there, Second?” Rex asked.

“I do not know exact figures, but I believe it is less than one million. They are not as numerous as primitive humans.”

“One million? How can one million people control the space beyond the Achaean Confederacy? There must be three hundred systems in the region,” Rex asked.

“They have many servants they have created to perform needed tasks. They serve as I do,” Second spoke.

“Are these servants genetically engineered as well?” Rex asked.

“They are.”

“You said you were designed to appear like a ‘primitive’ human. Are these other servants humanoid in appearance?”

“Some follow a basic bipedal body plan. Warriors, Runners, and Flyers all have two legs, two feet, a head, and a torso. Runners and Flyers have tails. Many specified lines are not humanoid and have little human DNA included in their design.”

“What are those three ‘lines’ you mentioned? Warriors, Runners, and Flyers, explain them.”

“Warriors are eleven-foot-tall humanoids armored with bony plates beneath their skin and thick external hair. They are several times stronger than a human and are designed to be vicious and without fear. They have clawed hands. They attack as ordered and do not retreat.”

“How are they kept under control?” Rex interjected.

“All lines excepting mine are designed to chemically obey the orders of the Masters. The Masters emit a pheromone that brings the Warriors under their control.”

“You are not vulnerable to this pheromone?”

“It was decided that should a similar pheromone exist among the primitives its use could undermine my loyalty to the ambassador. I am also not a physical threat to any Master due to the primitive nature of my design.”

“Yeah,” Rex spoke. “We all saw the muscle density of your ambassador. OK, Continue on.”

“Runners are fast-moving attack creatures five feet in height. They have reptilian skin and five-inch claws. They can attain speeds of forty miles per hour. Flyers are hollow-boned humanoids with extended arms and wings. They are scavengers who fly over our worlds and feast on servants who have broken from wear and can no longer serve the Masters. All three designs are in excess of 60 percent human, but have been modified to fit their roles with non-human DNA.”

“Great,” Rex muttered, images of all this madness floating through his mind. “You mentioned non-humanoid ‘servants.’ Give me an example?”

“Haulers. They are quadripedal beasts of enormous strength.”

“So you have lines for every purpose, basically. Carrying things, digging, building things.”

“There is no construction,” Second replied.

“What?” Rex asked, confused.

“Large, semi-conscious creatures with internal cavities provide housing. There is no construction of mechanical objects. Only in the construction of spacecraft is the presence of machines tolerated,” she replied simply.

“No machines? None at all?”

“None beyond those present in space—”

“Spacecraft, yeah. So your people have forsaken technology in favor of…biology?”

“The Masters believe that machines are abominations and dehumanize life. They tolerate it in spacecraft only out of necessity.”

“How do they genetically engineer life without machines?” Rex asked.

“Breeders,” she replied. “They are a line made from the genetic material controlling the wombs of several whale species, from which all lines gestate and emerge.”

“Even you?”

“Yes,” she replied, “Each of my bodies has been grown within a Breeder.”

He took another long drink, suddenly wishing he’d poured something alcoholic.

“How did all of this get started?” Rex finally asked. ”Why would people do this?”

“They believed life was imperfect, that primitive humans were imperfect and destructive to organic life. They fled Earth to create superior forms of life and society,” Second related.

“Superior? They actually believe that?”

“That is their purpose,” she said simply.