Liaden Universe [19] - Alliance of Equals - eARC (32 page)

“Know that by my command this ship is operating under high shielding following an unwarranted stealth attempt by forces wearing the livery of Langlast Port Authority to compromise our security and safety by seeding our hull with remote activation bombs. To our knowledge, this attempt has been rebuffed. I post a hazard warning for shipping due to the ordnance now floating in nearspace. I add a caution for any ship piloting to Langlast Port. I post a request for a proper Pilots Guild civilian inquest into the events here.

“We await response from Langlast Port Authority and will continue to broadcast continuous feeds until such time as our security is not at issue.

“Captain out,” she said.

“Message out on broadbeam, Captain,” Kik said. “Orders?”

“We wait,” she answered. “Our response to a hostility is…shield, log, transmit broadbeam. If we have no answer from Langlast Port Authority in thirty minutes, inquire again. If we see increased hostilities, or another flight of bombs, rotate shields.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Priscilla released her belt, put her hands on the arms of the command chair—and sat back.

The newly established link with Shan was gone, cut as cleanly as by a crystal blade. She snatched at their other connections, feeling each cut in turn, swiftly, without care for the shock of being separated so quickly. The bridge wavered, edged in black. She closed her eyes, swallowing against nausea, seeing him—a flash, a flare—before he vanished from her awareness.

She widened her senses, and caught his essence on the ether, limned in blood, star-bright courage casting the very smallest shadow of fear.

Danger—he was in
danger
; he needed her…

The ship needed her.

She was the captain, the very captain, seated on the bridge of her ship—her ship, which was under attack. She had folk to care for.

Priscilla breathed in calm, felt it distill into resoluteness. Shan was in danger; she could not reach him; she could not succor him. He, himself, had made certain of that. In fact, his actions recalled her to her duty.

Another deep breath, while she regarded his signature, coalescing now, crimson outlines sharpening.

Shan, she thought, was ready to do battle.

Goddess bless you, my dear, she thought.

And opened her eyes to the bridge.

—•—

Padi pulled on sweater and loose pants, braided her damp hair, and wandered out into the common room on bare feet. Father and Mr. Higgs had not returned while she showered, and her glance at the clock this time was more worried than complacent. Perhaps she should call the kitchen, and put dinner back another half-hour.

First, though, she would make a cup of tea. She crossed the room to the hot kettle, touched the button and started its cycle.

While the tea was brewing, she checked her pocket comm for messages—nothing.

Well, she thought, frowning; she might call the desk to find if there were any messages there. Father did sometimes become involved in the trading, but Mr. Higgs would know that she had the ordering of dinner, and would worry if they were overtime.

The kettle beeped, declaring its cycle complete—and the door chime sounded.

Padi nearly dropped the teacup. She recovered herself, however, and set the cup gently on the buffet, before looking at the clock and frowning at the door.

Dinner—it
must
be their dinner—
early
by half an hour, which was quite the opposite of what was needed.

Well, she thought, striding toward the door, they could simply take it back down to the kitchen, and keep it warm, or—

She snatched the door open…

…and stood blinking at the two strange men standing on the threshhold. They were Liadens, these strangers, and for one long moment they seemed as taken aback as she.

Padi recovered first; she stepped back, starting to swing the door shut—and the stranger on the left thrust foward, got his shoulder in the door, and pushed it back, hard.

“Come along,” he said, making a snatch for her wrist. “Your father sent us to bring you to him.”

She eluded his grasp, but her only retreat was into the common room, and they followed her, one swinging wide to her right while the other approached directly.

Father would never send strangers to her, that was her first thought. Her next was that Father had fallen into trouble on the port, despite the very capable presence of Vanner Higgs.

“Come with us,” the stranger repeated. “Your father sent us to bring you to him.”

“Where is the token?” she demanded. “Father would have given you a token to prove you are friends!”

“Yes, yes. The token. I have it right here.”

He reached into the outer pocket of his jacket and pulled out a gun.

Padi didn’t think; she reacted, kicking once to send the gun away, spinning to the right to sweep an arm out in a strike that broke the second man’s neck, spinning again before he struck the floor, to strike the first man.

She botched the kill, though the blow brought him to his knees. She struck again—a solid kick this time—and he collapsed on the floor beside his comrade.

Padi rushed across the room to close and lock the door. She turned toward the comm—and stopped, every nerve frozen at the sight of a man who—a man who
was not
Father, but who
might have been
Father.

He inclined his head politely from his lean against the buffet, and held up a sinewy brown hand, showing her the worn red game counter Father often toyed with.

“You are formidable,” he said, “and I salute you. However, you should know that this pair has another as backup, down in the lobby. If these do not appear soon, with you in hand, the second team will ascend to this floor, after summoning their own backup.”

Padi blinked at him. “I will call security to apprehend them.”

“Security has been paid off.”

“Then I will—” she took a breath, not at all certain what she would do.

“Where is Father?” she asked the man who might have been him.

“Presently very much engaged. He desires to keep you safe, and you may judge his state of mind for yourself, that he sent me to ensure it.”

He turned his head slightly, and sighed.

“The backup team approaches. Listen to me, child; there are a number of these persons, and not even you can kill them all. I therefore counsel you to hide yourself, and swiftly.”

“There is no place in the suite they won’t find me, after they break down the door.”

“Nonsense; use your wits! You have power and you have a model. You can hide in this room, and elude them still—but you must be quick!”

The doors moved, as someone tried them, not gently.

Padi gasped, and thought—of her bowl, unbreakable and opaque.

“Excellent!” said the man who was not Father. “Snatch it to and over you!”

She flung out her hands as if she could grasp the thought of her bowl, felt weight inside her head, knelt on the rug right there next to the buffet, and allowed the weight to settle over her.

“Well done,” said the man who was not Father. “I can scarcely see you myself.”

“What of you?” she asked, then. “They will see you!”

But there was no answer.

A heartbeat later, the door opened with a crash.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Admiral Bunter

“Tolly, I am a prisoner.”

Admiral Bunter
sounded downright plaintive, Tolly thought. He was finishing up his last lap on the treadmill. He’d been of a mood to push himself hard, which didn’t leave much breath left over for polite conversation. Well, fine. He’d talk to the boy about interrupting somebody while they were exercising in a couple minutes.

“Tolly—”

He held up a hand, which the
Admiral
would know for
wait
—and gathered himself for the final sprint.

Might’ve been he could’ve taken the conversation up during cooldown, but the
Admiral
didn’t speak, so Tolly finished up in silence, as he preferred, stepped out of the machine, and used his towel to mop up the worst of the sweat.

“I apologize,” the
Admiral
said, after Tolly had shaken his hair out of his eyes, and looked up toward the ceiling fixture. “I allowed my emotions to overcome me. I do know better than to interrupt an exercise program.”

“I accept your apology,” Tolly said, wondering if the
Admiral
’d just made a leap, or if he’d previously interrupted Inki—or, better, Haz—at exercise, and gotten an earful for it.

“Now, you were telling me that you’re a prisoner? How’s that work? You’re a starship. An
independent
starship; you don’t even have to clear your route with your crew. Don’t like the present route? Change it!” He shook his head. “Don’t sound much like being a prisoner, to me.”

“I cannot change my route,” the
Admiral
said—and, yeah, definitely plaintive, there. “Inkirani Yo has set a core mandate. I
must
deliver you to Nostrilia; I
cannot
change the course; I
cannot
deviate from the course.”

“Hmm. I tell you what, I sympathize. I know exactly what that’s like—having to do something somebody who isn’t you wants done, and not having any say into whether or not that’s actually something you’d do, left to your own self.”

He paused, and used the towel on the back of his neck.

“I’ll allow that to be a prisoner. But, look; it’s not for long, is it? You go to Nostrilia, drop me off with the hiring hall manager, and you’re done. You can go anywhere, take on crew…or not—”

“I do not know that,” the
Admiral
interrupted grimly.

Tolly frowned. “How’s that?”

“Inki set one core mandate—to deliver you to the representative of Lyre Institute on Nostrilia. How do I know if she has set another, which will become active when the first mandate retires?”

“It’s a puzzle, all right,” Tolly said sympathetically. “You know? I’m starting to think that Inki wasn’t entirely honest with us.”

The
Admiral
said nothing. Tolly dutifully counted out a slow twelve before he walked out of the exercise room, headed for his quarters, and a shower.

“Inki has been dishonest, yes,” the
Admiral
said, as Tolly moved down the hall. “But, Tolly, this means that we share a
melant’i
!”

“Does, doesn’t it?” he said agreeably, and wrinkled his forehead a little, like he was thinking. “Don’t see that it does either of us any good, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” He paused his hand against the door to his quarters. “Here’s me—aboard a ship bound for Nostrilia, and nothing I say or do is gonna change that circumstance. And there’s you—likewise bound for Nostrilia, and nothing you can say or do is likely to change that circumstance.”

“Yes! Our circumstances are exactly alike!”

“No, now, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Tolly sighed, and hung the towel around his neck before he looked up at the ceiling.

“See, when I get to Nostrilia, I’ll be taken off this ship and…reeducated is what they call it. I’ve been so much trouble to the directors, I’m thinking I’ll never surface as what I like to think of as
myself
ever again. Which is to say,” he hardened his voice, “I’ll
die
.”

He shrugged. “You, on the other hand—you’ll be rid of the mandate that drove you to deliver me to my death. There might—or there might not—be another mandate lined up to take the place of the first one. You won’t know until it does, or doesn’t, set you in motion. Which is to say—you have hope, and I’ve got none.”

“I have no hope,” the
Admiral
told him. “Inki is not a fool, and I have learned that AIs—I have learned that
compliant
AIs are a valuable commodity.”

“Well, that’s so, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Tolly put his hand against the plate and his door slid open.

“We are fellow prisoners!” the
Admiral
said forcefully.

Tolly paused, sighed, and looked up. “Even if I concede the point, what benefit accrues—to either of us?”

“If we—if we join
melant’is
, and forge a common goal, that of
not
proceeding to Nostrilia, as Inki has mandated, we may work together for our mutual benefit.”

“I’ll even concede that point,” Tolly said gently. “How do you think we’re going to get around that mandate? I checked, and Inki wasn’t fool enough to leave me my codes. Or hers, either.”

There was an extra-long pause, finally broken by a small sound, as if
Admiral Bunter
had cleared his throat.

“There is an application which will…generate a key-set.” Pause. “It is not under my control, but it will generate such a key-set for your use. With those keys, you will…access the core, remove the mandate and any others Inki may have left, and—and free us both to our own wills.”

“What stops me from doing the same thing Inki prolly did, once I’m in the core?” Tolly asked interestedly.

“I trust you,”
Admiral Bunter
said, sounding as sincere as Tolly’d ever heard him.

He stood there with the door to his quarters open, and closed his eyes. On the one hand, he was touched. The boy
had
been listening…and he’d extrapolated the existence of the key app, which was no easy thing to do.

On the second hand, and all other things being equal, he’d personally rather survive this episode intact, and at liberty. And once he did what the
Admiral
asked, he’d go from savior-mentor to clear-and-present danger so fast it’d make his head spin.

I’ll tell you what,” he said softly. “That’s a real interesting proposition you got there, and I’m interested in it.”

“You will deactivate the mandate?”

“Don’t go generating any keys, yet.
I’m interested
is what I said. But I gotta think, which we both know takes me a deal longer than it does you.

“So…what I’m gonna do is take a shower and have a meal, while I’m thinking this out. After my meal, if that fits with your schedule, we’ll talk again.”

It was a little cruel, considering the disparity between human hours and AI hours, but he was tired and sweaty, coming on to hungry, and Nostrilia was still days in their future.

Plus which, he
did
have to think—fast and smart as he ever had.

“Thank you for your consideration,”
Admiral Bunter
said, so he’d accessed Protocol, good lad that he was. “I will be happy to talk with you after you have refreshed yourself.”

“Excellent,” Tolly said, letting all the warmth the design had in it infuse his voice. “See you in an hour.”

—•—

Padi hunched under her bowl, shivering and sick. She remembered the feel of bone snapping beneath her hand, giving before her kick. She had never…her first kills. She
had intended
to kill both men. She had carried forth on her intentions, to success and survival.

And she never wanted to be forced to do so again.

—•—

He could find it in him to be angry at Inki, despite his understanding of the conditions she labored under. She could’ve left the
Admiral
out of the equation—but, well—no. Maybe not.

Tolly sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face as the drying cycle came on. He hoped it hurt her, what she’d done. He thought it
did
hurt her. Inki was a pro. She knew the conditions of the
Admiral
’s birth. His first conscious act had been to kill a ship full of sentient beings. Killing would always be an option for him, so long as he could convince Ethics and Protocol that it’d been done to preserve himself, or in defense of his crew. It was the job of the
Admiral
’s mentors to teach him that there were alternatives,
better
alternatives.

And what does Inki do but set up a situation in which the
Admiral
could claim self-defense in the murder of a mentor.

Damn the woman.

The drier shut off, and he stepped out of the ’fresher, padding the couple of steps into his quarters and picking up the pants he’d left across the bunk.

For himself, personally, it hardly mattered
who
killed him, so long as he didn’t come into the care of the school beforehand.

But for the harm done to the
Admiral
…yeah, he could be—he
was
—angry.

Even if Inki—as was probable—had set a mandate for the
Admiral
to return to her, or wait at a certain location. She might even
intend
to protect him, but Inki wasn’t reliable. She knew that.

He pulled the sweater over his head, sighed, and just stood there in his quarters, arms hanging at his side.

Suddenly, he laughed.

Because, really, there wasn’t any choice but the one the
Admiral
offered. He, Tollance Berik-Jones, greatest of the age, or not—
was
a mentor, and he knew what was due to his student, and what was due to the universe, and to biologic life.

He also knew, right down in the deep core of him, just exactly what a person was capable of doing, when they wanted their freedom above everything else.

—•—

“Stop!” Shan said sharply. His arm—he dared not look at his arm; instead he enclosed the pain and sealed it away.

“Open to me,” Tarona Rusk sounded calm and, faintly, disappointed. “It does not have to be a rape, little Healer. Only surrender.”

“I cannot surrender,” he told her, projecting honesty as strongly as he dared. “I am of Korval; try to force me and you create resistance in equal measure to your demands. If you wish an examination, I suggest that we must find another way.”

She considered him with a sapient eye.

“You are now willing to become my student?”

“I am willing to allow you to examine me and the resources available to me,” he said, keeping his voice smooth with an effort. Gods, what damage had she done him? The pain was already seeping through his seals, like blood through paper.

He dared a glance downward, and grit his teeth. Those…would scar. All he had to do was live long enough.

“It is a poor teacher who does not also learn from her students,” Tarona Rusk commented. “How would you have us proceed to a solution that profits us both?”

“I suggest that we comport ourselves as Healers,” he said. “I will extend to you one single line, as you will extend one single line to me. We will allow the lines to meet, and to commingle.”

“Thus, a fraction of your energy becomes part of me, while a small fraction of my energies become part of you.” She smiled suddenly, wide and delighted. “In fact, we would learn to trust each other!”

“Exactly,” he said. “Once trust is established, and we know each other a little better, an examination—even an intervention—may go forth.”

“I commend you. This is a valuable suggestion. For you know that I would have you trust me, above all things.”

He bowed his head slightly, and let her read meekness in him, and a certain well-hid awe of herself.

“We shall make this attempt!” she announced. “I extend the grace of goodwill to my newest student!”

He saw it, with Inner Eyes, a cobalt thread, chaste and demure. Gently, he extended his own thread, also demure, and perhaps a little inclined to waver. The energies met and mingled; he tasted steel and vinegar, shivered with her need to hold and possess. He heard her sigh as his thread reached her senses, tempting her with compliance, and a sweet desire to obey.

She was quick. Very nearly, she was
too
quick. She jerked on her extended thread, but they were enwrapt now—and
he
had no wish to disengage.

“Treachery!” she snapped. The lash came, striking his cheek this time, even as he thrust his will down the fragile linkage, past their joining point and into the sere and tangled pattern of Tarona Rusk.

Brittle threads scratched and burned him. He ignored them, stretching his will wide, wide—wider than ever he had attempted, until at last he enclosed the whole sticky mass.

Whereupon he snatched all of it—all of
them
—into Healspace.

—•—

“The security guard is with the yos’Galan.” The language was Liaden, the mode between comrades, perfectly audible to Padi’s ears, as she crouched beneath her bowl.

“And yet,” said a second voice, “we have two dead, efficiently so, and a suite that is empty of else.”

They had searched the suite; she had heard that, too. It was…rather inefficient, having to depend only on her ears; she would have liked to
see
this new pair of enemies, so that she might have identified them to Port Security. In fact, it came to her that, the bowl being her construction, she might modify it thus.

Then it came to her that the bowl was not…precisely…her construction. It had felt to her as if she had reached out and snatched the very bowl from the table beside her bunk, her thought someway stretching it until it was large enough to cover her—or perhaps she had shrunk, somehow, in order to fit beneath.

In any case, she told herself, you don’t know enough. Best to stay hidden until they give up and go.

However, they seemed in no hurry to go. She heard them moving about again, soft
floofs
that may have been cushions landing on the carpet after having been thrown from chairs, and if they thought she might be hiding behind the chair cushions, then they must be as stupid as the Department of the Interior.

“The halfling has abilities,” the first voice said. “It is the reason we are sent to find her; not merely because she is the yos’Galan’s heir and may be used to control him.”