Hidden Empire (68 page)
But he would have to be very, very careful.
A
fter logging fifty-eight cumulative hours in the enclosed cockpit, Tasia Tamblyn felt as if the Eddies’ fastest fighter was
almost as efficient and maneuverable as a standard Roamer vessel. She could get used to it.
EDF engineering seemed to require two steps where only one was necessary, but once Tasia stopped complaining about the cumbersome
routines and concentrated on
learning
, she stopped expecting streamlined finesse and got used to the brute-force approach. She could still fly circles around anyone
else.
Her Remora bobbed and dipped as she moved her fingers, adjusted thrusters, nudged attitude-control jets. The sleek ship raced
through the obstacle course of space rubble at one of the Trojan points between Jupiter and Mars. Her reflexes singing, Tasia
played a game of high-speed touch-tag in the asteroid belt. “This is fun, Brindle.”
His response came over the cockpit radio. “You have psychological problems, Tamblyn.”
Her arms were stiff and her legs beginning to cramp after four hours of high-tension acrobatics. Most of the other EDF trainees
had dropped out of the challenge, but Tasia continued to thread her needle through the course. The drill sergeants would scold
her for showing off, but behind their stern expressions they’d be smiling with grudging admiration. No one had expected this
young Roamer to do so well.
But then, none of them knew the determination of a Tamblyn.
Throughout the exercise, Robb Brindle doggedly kept up with her. He followed her every move, chasing her ship’s exhaust stream
through the dangerous navigational hazards. “Hey, you intend to leave your footprint on every one of these rocks, or can we
go home soon?”
“Turn around any time you want, Brindle. Just make it back to base in time to make me a nice dinner.”
“And if I keep up with you, we both have to eat mealpax?” he said. “Shizz, what a wonderful choice you offer.”
She flew straight toward an angry-looking cluster of rocks, like a swarm of wasps waiting to sting her ship.
“Tamblyn, watch out!”
“Don’t bother with a lackluster little obstacle,” she said, powering up her weapons. “Somebody’s always trying to put up roadblocks.”
She fired a spread of her upgraded jazers, a high-powered laser beam jacketed with a tightly wound magnetic sheath. The beam’s
double whammy could scramble most solid matter. She cleared a path through the space rocks, vaporizing them into tiny speckles
of dust, and plowed right through with a reckless whoop. “That’ll pepper your windshield, Brindle.”
Already she had trained on many different models of military spacecraft, from sluggish former tankers to fast Remoras to middleweight
Manta cruisers to powerful Thunderhead weapons platforms. She had met every challenge and was sniffing for a real fight.
Many of the other recruits had groaned at the exhausting training: A dozen or so even dropped out and accepted dishonorable
discharges. But so far, Tasia had never been pushed beyond her limits. Thanks to years spent honing her skills, she was accustomed
to trials as part of her daily life. It disappointed her that the vaunted EDF did not demand higher standards of excellence.
Tasia found herself at the top of her class, her scores almost perfect. She was hindered only by her impatience with military
protocol.
Robb Brindle helped her run those political and personal gauntlets, and Tasia flirted with him just enough that he probably
lost a little sleep at night (and so did she, at times). Tasia toyed with the idea of a romance with Brindle, though she’d
never before have considered the son of two Earth military officers as a potential mate. As the daughter of a clan leader,
Tasia had always been prepared for a well-placed marriage alliance with another important Roamer family, just like Jess and
Ross.
As she thought of her brothers, she clenched her jaw with steely resolve. While growing up, she had hero-worshiped Ross and
Jess. They had protected their sister, without smothering her. They let Tasia fight her own battles and rescued her only when
it was necessary. It usually hadn’t been necessary.
When she and Robb had dinner together, Tasia often talked about her brothers, and about her rigid old father. She had been
stung by Bram’s death, remembering her last fight with him, wishing they could have parted under better circumstances. But
she knew she had made the right choice, following her own Guiding Star.
Considering the clumsy performance of the other kleebs, Tasia wondered if she might be Earth’s best hope for fighting the
deep-core aliens. With the loss of her father and Ross, Tasia wanted to make her clan proud. Only Jess was left.
She decided she’d had enough of this silly exercise. She opened the comm channel again. “I’m done playing hide-and-seek, Brindle.
My butt is sore from this cockpit chair. Let’s go back.”
She spun her Remora in a backward arc away from the asteroids. With Brindle keeping close pace, they raced back to the EDF
base, confident they had achieved the best score in the piloting exercise.
In the hangar bay on the Mars installation, Tasia climbed out of her Remora, groaning from a stiff back and legs. She wished
she could install her own pilot’s chair from the Tamblyn clan shuttle she had flown to Earth. Or maybe she could talk Brindle
into giving her a massage. That wouldn’t take much convincing.
Grinning, Robb jumped out of his craft and came over to her. “Who taught you to fly like that without killing you first, Tamblyn?”
“Some of us just have inborn skill, Brindle … and some people will never learn, no matter how much they practice.”
The drill sergeants congratulated them on their score. Many of the trainees grudgingly admitted defeat, while others still
gave the Roamer girl a cold shoulder. Brindle accompanied her toward the mess hall, though Tasia wanted to use her water ration
and shower first.
“Those exercises are too damn long,” he said, heaving a big sigh.
“They won’t always be just games, you know.” Her gaze hardened. “General Lanyan is pushing us hard for a major assault. Count
on it. It’s bound to come soon.”
Robb seemed unsettled by the prospect. “The EDF is still gathering intelligence. We won’t fight the aliens until we have the
best chance of winning.”
Tasia scratched her shaggy hair and thought again of Ross and the Blue Sky Mine and how the enormous facility had been so
mercilessly destroyed.
“The sooner the better,” she said.
I
n the silent desert night on Rheindic Co, Louis Colicos and the green priest Arcas engaged in a card game, using DD as a third
player. Margaret sat by herself in her sleep tent, listening to the tinny music of “Greensleeves” from the music box her son
had given her.
For hours she had pondered the Klikiss hieroglyphics from the newly discovered city. Although the first abandoned metropolis
held many wonders, this isolated section offered more opportunities, more mysteries, and more clues.
The trapezoidal “stone window” intrigued her most of all. She’d been unable to translate the markings on the separate tiles
that ringed the blank sheet of rock. The symbols bore no correlation to the mathematics or storytelling words she had previously
deciphered.
Inside the quiet tent, the music box finished its tinkling tune. Out of habit, Margaret reached over to rewind it, but stopped.
Instead, she listened to the gentle darkness outside. Nearby, she heard Louis laughing, Arcas rattling game tokens, and DD’s
mechanical voice repeating the score.
Restless in her frustration but not wanting to join the silly games that kept her husband sane, Margaret finished her cup
of tepid tea, stood up, and stretched. She stepped out of her tent into the starlight.
The night was warm and motionless, the air like a transparent blanket. As she walked out into the shadows, Margaret suddenly
stopped, seeing an ominous silhouette in front of her. It looked like a hole in the night, a shape that dully reflected the
stars. She heard smooth movements, a hard clacking sound, articulated joints … then, with a flash, scarlet optical sensors
ignited, shining out like demon’s eyes.
“Margaret Colicos, do not be alarmed. I was conserving energy,” the robot said, “and reassessing my database.”
With a nervous laugh, Margaret said, “Just what I was doing. Which one are you?”
“I am Sirix.”
They fell into silence, Margaret not certain she wanted to be alone in the dark with the beetlelike machine. Though Sirix
was no conversationalist, she decided to take advantage of the opportunity. “Do you have any idea, any speculation, about
those symbols around the trapezoidal stone ‘window’ we found in the new ruins?”
“All of my memories were wiped during the holocaust that destroyed my parent race, Margaret Colicos.”
“Yes, yes, you’ve told me that before,” she said. “But you obviously retain some subset of skills, otherwise you could not
function or communicate. I’m sure you’ve uploaded all the summaries of what we’ve found on other digs, just to fill in the
blanks in your own memory.”
“Many significant blanks remain, Margaret Colicos.”
She frowned, promising herself not to sigh out loud, though she doubted that Sirix could have interpreted the human response.
“I’m wondering if those designs on the tiles are perhaps location indicators, like coordinates on a map. Maybe the entire
grid around the stone wall is like a… directory or a phone book.”
“I do not understand the reference,” Sirix said, but somehow Margaret was sure he did. Silhouetted against the dim starlight,
the black robot remained implacable, volunteering neither information nor suggestions.
“Are you avoiding the answers?” she finally asked. “You’re not being very helpful.”
“I am telling you what I can, Margaret Colicos. My companions and I have already pondered and discussed this mystery in great
depth for several centuries. We have no answers for you.”
“I… I’m sorry for doubting you, Sirix. Please don’t take offense.”
“We do not take offense,” said the Klikiss robot.
“Even without clear memory files, I do understand that all Klikiss robots were once part of a vast civilization, which is
now completely dead. Our creators were wiped out, as were our memories.”
“As if everything was systematically deleted,” Margaret added.
“Perhaps that is the explanation,” Sirix said.
Unsettled and feeling as if she had made no progress, Margaret bade Sirix good night and walked toward the light shining out
of the other tent. Though she liked to be alone where she could concentrate, right now Margaret wanted the company of her
husband.
She entered the tent, saw that Louis had begun another game of cards with Arcas and DD. Louis’s face lit up when he saw her.
“Come inside, my dear. Join us. I’ll deal you in.”
Before she could answer, he added a pile of cards at the table’s empty place. Margaret seated herself and quickly summarized
her conversation with Sirix and turned to their Friendly compy. “DD, you’ve talked with the robots. Have you been able to
learn anything from them that we don’t know?”
“Not at all, Margaret. I have done my best to explain to them how compies function and how our design is different from their
own. But I have learned nothing about the original Klikiss race.”
“He tried, dear,” Louis said. DD’s mood changed, becoming sad, almost distraught. “It is distressing that all of their lives,
all of their stored experiences, have vanished. One can only imagine what amazing wonders the Klikiss robots must have experienced.
Such a shame.”
Margaret picked up her cards and studied the hand, though she hadn’t yet figured out which game they were playing. “We’re
doing our best to uncover it all, DD.”
