Deathstalker Destiny (28 page)

“Meanwhile, maintain high orbit.” Silence had decided to abandon what was left of his meal until he was really hungry. “Stay out of the planet’s atmosphere. There’s no telling how high the rogue nanos were thrown when the scientific Base exploded. There could still be some floating about up there, just waiting for something hard and solid to come along so they could continue their dirty work. Maintain full shields, at all times.”

“Beg pardon, Captain, but indefinite use of full shields will mean a serious drain on our power.”

Silence turned a stern look on Tal. “Comm officer; you seem intent on telling me things I already know. I am quite aware of my own ship’s limitations, thank you. I am less sure of Zero Zero’s ability to do us harm, so we are taking no chances at all. Now; send down a couple of remote probes. With a little luck they might last long enough to send back something useful.”

The comm officer nodded quickly, and fired off two probes. They were basically just information-gathering packages inside heavy armor. They couldn’t be shielded and still do their work, so that left them vulnerable to nano attack. The whole bridge crew watched unobtrusively as the two probes plunged into Zero Zero’s deceptively tranquil atmosphere, tense and strained as they waited for ... something to happen. Silence had Tal put up the incoming sensor readings on the main viewscreen, as the probes sent back the first direct information in centuries on Zero Zero’s condition.

Heavy cloud cover, but no storm systems. Air content and temperatures within acceptable human limits. Gravity earth normal, as near as dammit, which was a little surprising, given the somewhat greater size of the planet. No life signs. The probes were just beginning to make out the shapes of the three main continents when the figures coming in suddenly became uncertain. They flickered from one extreme value to another, in impossibly wide swings, and then began to contradict one another. New visual images appeared on the viewscreen, harsh and jagged, in ugly colors and sharp angles that were subtly disturbing to the eye. Silence felt a headache building in his left temple, and his eyes felt as if they’d been sandpapered. And then the probes shut down and the screen went blank, and all on the bridge heaved varying sighs of relief.

“No more signals, Captain,” said Morag Tal, her fingers flying over the control panels before her. “Something was definitely affecting the probes there at the end, so that information cannot be depended on, but I think I’ve sorted out some useful data from the earlier transmissions.”

More acceptable images appeared on the main viewscreen, showing the three main land masses. Jagged mountain ranges crossed the great continents, large enough to be seen clearly even from so high an altitude. Much of the land masses was bare rock, with volcanic vents and a tendency to earthquakes powerful enough to reshape the coastlines at regular intervals. Zero Zero had been an unpleasant, largely uninhabited world, of no real use for colonizing, and little intrinsic mineral value, which was why it had been chosen for nanotech research in the first place.

“That’s all we got, Captain,” said Morag Tal. “The probes lasted approximately forty-seven seconds. The information they were sending back right at the end cannot be considered reliable. The probes appeared to be ... changing as the nanos worked on them. I’m not sure what they were becoming, but it sure as hell wasn’t anything I recognized.”

“Understood,” said Silence. “Run it all through the computers, see if they come up with any useful insights.” He swiveled in his chair to look at the tall, cadaverous figure standing patiently at his side. Klaus Morrell was the new ship’s esper; skeletally thin and dressed all in white, he looked rather like a ghost that hadn’t been invited to any feast in a long time. He tended to crack his knuckles loudly when he was thinking, and had other habits that were even worse. The
Dauntless
was his sixteenth posting in three years, and Silence was beginning to suspect he knew why.

“So,” he said heavily, “you picking up anything of interest yet?”

“If I had, I’d have told you,” said Morrell. “Peculiar bloody place you’ve brought me to. This far out I shouldn’t be picking up anything, but ... I’m getting something ... right on the edge of my mind. Not so much thoughts ... more like the background murmur of the universe, with everyone talking at once. It makes no sense at all, and it’s really very irritating. You’ll have to get me a lot closer before I can be of any use, and I really wish I hadn’t just said that. I would like to make it very clear that I would rather gnaw my own leg off without anesthetic than pay a personal visit to that misbegotten toilet of a world below us. Something very bad’s going to happen down there.”

“Think of it as a chance to stretch your legs,” said Silence easily. “You don’t want to miss out on all the fun, do you?”

“If at all possible, yes. Am I to gather from the way you’re looking at me that I have already volunteered to join your landing party?”

“Got it in one. You must have read my mind.”

“Ho ho ho. Bloody officer humor. It’ll all end in tears, I know it.”

 

Downbelow, in one of the
Dauntless’s
less crowded recreation areas, the man known as Carrion sat alone at a table, drinking lukewarm coffee at the end of an uninspiring meal. He could have eaten all his meals in his cabin, and would have preferred to, but Silence had ordered him to get out in public, so that the crew would have a chance to get used to him. So far, it didn’t seem to be working. People avoided talking to Carrion unless they absolutely had to, and then treated him with cold courtesy at best. Only their respect for their Captain kept them from open insults or even attempted violence. They looked at the man in traitor’s black, and saw only the Investigator who went native on the planet Unseeli, and fought beside the alien Ashrai against his own kind. Carrion; the sworn protector of Humanity who became a traitor and an outlaw because he loved an alien race more than his own honor and duty.

And who was to say they were wrong.

No one sat at his table with him. People ostentatiously chose to avoid even the tables nearest him. Some talked about him, just loudly enough to be sure he’d hear. Most wouldn’t even look at him. Truth be told, Carrion took comfort in his isolation. After Silence gave the order to scorch Unseeli from orbit, and wiped out every living creature on the planet, Carrion had lived there alone for many years, his only company the ghosts of the murdered Ashrai. Apart from one brief period a few years back, when Silence had returned to drag him unwillingly from his preferred isolation to help investigate the mystery of Base Thirteen, Carrion had remained aloof from all humans, and preferred it that way. He wouldn’t have known what to do with human companionship, even if it had been offered to him. He no longer considered himself human, and believed he had little left in common with those who did. He felt no need for company or conversation. He felt no need for anything much, anymore.

Except perhaps for revenge on the rogue AIs of Shub, who had destroyed what little sanctuary and reason for living he’d had left.

Anyone else would surely have gone mad, left alone on an alien world for so many years, but Carrion had found a kind of absolution in his solitude. The Ashrai had altered him, so that he could survive where no other human could, and Unseeli became his home. He walked for hours through the gleaming metallic forests, listening to the wind sing in their spiky branches, and sometimes hearing the song of the dead Ashrai too. The trees weren’t just trees, though he was never sure quite what else they might be, but there was a harmony to be found in their embrace, and he became a part of it. He was at peace, with no one to hate and no one to hate him. His wars were over.

 

Or so he thought, till the great metal ships came from Shub, filling the skies with their horrid shapes, and tore the metal trees out of the ground until none remained anywhere on Unseeli. And who else was there left for Carrion to turn to, except his old friend and enemy, Captain John Silence? They’d struck a kind of truce, and now here Carrion was on a human ship again, an Investigator again. It was a harsh kind of joke, but then the universe was like that, in Carrion’s experience. The dead forests and the ghosts of the Ashrai cried out for vengeance, and if this was all he had left to give his life purpose, it was better than nothing.

He missed Unseeli so much. It was the only place where he’d ever been happy.

A man came up and sat down beside Carrion. He did so quickly, almost rudely, as though not wanting to give Carrion any time to object. He was young, barely out of his teens, with dark eyes and a set, determined mouth. Carrion recognized the face, and the newcomer saw that he did. He shifted his gangling frame uncertainly in his chair, and then nodded jerkily.

“You do know me. I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”

“Of course I remember,” said Carrion calmly. His power lance leaned against the table beside him, but he made no effort to reach for it. “You’re the one who tried to kill me when I first came aboard the
Dauntless.”

“Yes. That’s right. I’m Micah Barron. Ordinary crewman. My father was one of the men you killed in the war on Unseeli.”

“I don’t remember him. There were so many ... I regret his death, if that makes any difference. Do you still wish to kill me?”

“No,” said Barron, looking down at his hands clasped tightly together before him, on top of the table. The knuckles were white with strain. “The Captain vouches for you. Called you his friend. And the Captain ... is a good and honorable man. I’d die for the Captain. I’ve followed his career since I was a boy. It was a way of making contact with the father I barely knew. After he died ... I couldn’t wait to be old enough so I could join up too. I’ve tried to read up on the Unseeli war, but most of the files are still Restricted. Parliament keeps promising more open government, but I’ll believe that when I see it. So really, there are only two places I can go, to find out the truth about what really happened on Unseeli all those years ago. What the war was really about. And why my father had to die there. One is the Captain, the other is you. And after my previous behavior, there’s no way the Captain’s ever going to agree to speak to me again. Except maybe at my court-martial. So that just leaves you.”

Carrion stirred uneasily. “It is not a time I care to remember. So many died, on both sides. Much of me died during the war. And I’ve already said I don’t remember your father.”

“But you’re my only link to him. To the times that shaped and killed him. Tell me about the Ashrai. What were they like?”

“Why did I side with them against Humanity?” Carrion looked out across the room with haunted eyes, not seeing what was there, lost in yesterday. “You have to remember; I was raised as an Investigator. Taken from my parents as a small child, raised to be apart from the Humanity I was trained to serve and protect. Taught the only good alien was a dead alien. But the Ashrai ... were wild and glorious and so free. Like every dream I’d ever had. Not beautiful, not by human standards. But they were pure, uncomplicated; savage and unrestrained. They flew through the air like mighty dragons, and when they sang ... they were creatures of awe and wonder. Angels of a different world. So much more than the grubby little humans who threatened to destroy them, just so the Empire could mine some metals from the forests.

“Captain Silence was my friend then. I tried to explain, to make him understand. But he saw only his orders, and his duty. We were both so much younger then.”

“But ... he offered the Ashrai reservations. Places they could live freely, away from the machines mining the forests.”

Carrion looked sadly at Barron. “Is that the story they told, to excuse what they did? The Ashrai were linked to the forests. They would have withered and died, restricted to artificial borders, dying inch by inch as the trees died. Silence knew that. There was no offer of reservations. And so war became inevitable, and I knew which side I belonged on. I had sung the song of the Ashrai, seen the world anew through their eyes, and I could never go back. Back to being only, merely, human.”

“Tell me about the war.”

Carrion frowned. It wasn’t hard to call back the memories. They were never far from him. “The Ashrai were strong and fast and powerful. Their numbers filled the skies. The Empire had explosives and energy weapons. Ashrai blood fell like rain, and the human dead piled up till a man couldn’t see over them. Ashrai psistorms fought Empire battle wagons. There seemed no end to the dead, and the suffering. And I was right there in the middle of it, my hands dripping with the blood of those who had once been my fellow crewmen. Sometimes I knew their faces, more often not. I never thought the war would go on for so long. I thought eventually the Empire would get tired of losing men, and go away. I didn’t realize how badly they needed those metals.

“I never thought they’d order Silence to scorch the planet. I never thought he’d do it. I can still hear the Ashrai screaming as the energy beams slammed down from orbit. There was nothing I could do to save them. I dug a deep hole and pulled it in after me, protected by my psionic powers. They seemed to go on screaming forever. Until finally the scorching stopped, and there was only silence. I dug my way out, to find myself the only inhabitant of an empty world. But the trees were still alive, in their way, and tied so closely to the Ashrai that not even death could fully separate them. Their ghosts remained, and their song. They forgave me. I never did.

“Now the forests are gone, and only I remain to tie the Ashrai to the worlds of the living.”

“They were your family,” said Barron, after a while. Carrion nodded, surprised at the insight. “Of course. The family I’d never known before. I was their adopted son, and I loved them with all my heart. Silence was my friend, but I never felt as close to him as I did to the Ashrai. I don’t think he ever really forgave me for that.”