Mind Over Ship (52 page)

Someone knocked frantically at his door. Fred dropped the bag, made a fist, cocked his arm, and flung the door open. He threw a punch but pulled it back before it landed. Mando was at his door, in his service uniform, and it looked like someone had already punched him. His left eye was bruised and swollen half shut.

“Fred! Why are you still here?” Mando said. “Why aren’t you aboard the
Fentan
?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Fred, Fred, Fred,” Mando said, pushing past him into the room. He glanced all around, saw Mary’s FUS and the spacefaring donald, spotted the travel bag. He picked it up and thrust it into Fred’s hands. “We must hurry.”

“Yes,” Fred said, “let’s go.” Fred swiped away the holos, and they left the
room. In the hall, the walls on either side of his door had been marked with hateful words and glyphs.

“Forget about that,” Mando said and pulled Fred by the arm.

“Wrong way,” Fred said. “The spokeway lifts are that way.”

But Mando was insistent. “We’ll take a utility lift to the hub. The main spokeways aren’t safe.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Who hit you?” Fred said. “Was it a brother? Do you know his name?”

“It’s not important. Getting you on that ship is important.” He led Fred down little-used corridors to a service lift. They passed only a few startled dorises and aslams along the way.

“Wait a minute,” Fred said as the elevator doors opened. “Why are you in a TECA uniform?”

“Because I am on duty.”

“But why aren’t
you
on the
Fentan
? You were supposed to board days ago.” Then the truth hit Fred. “No one would sell you another homerun. You sold me your own ticket!”

“Yes, and if we don’t hurry, it will all be for nothing. Come, my crazy friend.”

He tried to pull Fred into the elevator car, but Fred stood fast. “What about Luisa? Don’t you want to go to her? It’s
your
ticket, not mine. How dare you put my heart before your own?”

Pain flashed across Mando’s damaged face. “There is no time, Fred. When you are on the ship, call me and we will talk.”

Fred shrugged him off. “We’ll talk
now
.”

“You are stubborn, my brother. Let us compromise and talk on the way.”

“No!”

When Mando saw that Fred would not budge, he said, “I love Luisa more than breathing. But you, Fred, you and Mary. How can I say this? My brothers say you are sick, that you have the clone fatigue, and that is why you must humiliate us before the world. But I say they’re wrong. You and Mary are special. What happens to you matters to all of us, to me and Luisa. If you or Mary die, we all die. You can’t stay here any longer. Besides, I promised you a ticket, and a russ keeps his word. Now can we go?”

Fred joined him in the lift, and they rode it to the hub where they found a shuttle to the
Fentan
’s spar. They were silent the entire trip out, and Fred made a quick list of all his options. When at last they reached the
Fentan
gangway and processing station, Fred grabbed a handrail and halted himself.

“What’s wrong?” Mando said. “Only a little farther.”

“Not for me, my friend. I’ve been thinking.”

“Fred!”

“No, shut up and listen. You are a true brother, Armando Mendez, and a true friend. You helped me see what I need to do. No, don’t speak. I wish I could save all of us. I don’t think I can, but maybe I can save a few.” He shoved his travel bag into Mando’s arms. “You’re going back, not me. If they’re still alive when you get there, do what you can.”

Before Mando could object, Fred said, “Earth Girl, come in.”

“Listening.”

“Transfer my passage aboard the
Fentan
to Armando Mendez.”

“You can’t!” Mando said.

“It’s already done.”

FRED TOOK A cart to a spot near his old space gate. Top Ape was waiting for him in an EM shadow with two of the tamperproof cases. Fred swiped them and said, “Make all the bullshit stop.”

Then he boarded a shuttle for the civilian port. He used his Spectre to send a message to Veronica TOTE to meet him at once. On his way to the Elbow Room he did some port traffic analysis and booked a room in a civieside rez wheel.

BY THE TIME Fred reached the stockroom, Veronica TOTE’s proxy was waiting for him. “Smart decision, Commander.”

“Wait until you hear my conditions.”

If the real Veronica TOTE was as exhausted as her proxy looked, she hadn’t slept in days. “By all means,” she said, “let’s hear your conditions.”

“First, tell me if I’m reading the traffic data correctly. I see a lot of musical chairs with the cryocapsules. Have you changed your mind about the
Chernobyl
?”

A thin smile spread across the pirate’s face. “Why, in fact, we have. We took your comments to heart and did a little research, and you were right about both the
Chernobyl
and the
Hybris
. When you’re right, Commander, you’re right. Fortunately, we’re a nimble organization, and we should be able to handle the last-minute switch, especially now that you’ve returned to ride herd on our monkeyboys.”

“About that. Tell me something: In this new society of yours, this new center of power in the universe, will there be room in it for clones?”

From the look on the proxy’s face, this was a question that had never crossed Veronica’s mind. “I doubt Applied People or Capias World or any other human resources agency will choose to operate there.”

“I’m not talking about the companies. I’m talking about independent iterants, ex-commercial clones.”

The proxy gave it some thought. “I suppose there could be a place for runaway clones, but it’s not something I could decide on my own.”

“That’s my first condition,” Fred said. “After you take over the ship, you will issue a public proclamation that all independent clones are entitled to full citizenship and equal rights in your new colony.” Then he remembered something Mary’s FUS had said. “Including full unrestricted reproductive rights.”

“Clones having babies? That’s a tall order.”

“Watch it get taller. Second, you will immediately place into biostasis my wife and her two sisters, Georgine and Cyndee. I can tell you where you can find all three of them right now. You’ll also biostase Luisa Mendez of Cozumel, Mexico. I can give you a positive ID.”

“They’ll refuse. I understand that all ’leens are refusing that.”

“I really don’t care. You’ll kidnap them if necessary and do it anyway. Kidnapping is a TUG specialty, isn’t it? Once that’s done, you will hide them from the authorities, but you will inform their spouses or designated others and give
them
the decision of how and when to quicken them.” Fred paused to review what he had said, and he added, “And let the spouses know it was me, Mr. Clone Fatigue, who so ordered it.

“Third, put Mary in a cryocapsule and smuggle her up here to the
Hybris
with your own stowaways.”

The proxy was incredulous. “Anything else?”

Fred thought for a second. “No, that’ll do. But when you take Mary, be prepared; my wife keeps company with a diplomat-class bee.”

The overtired proxy shook its head. “You know, Commander, there’s been a fair bit of discussion around the War Table about whether or not you really have fallen out of type.”

“Is that a fact? And what was the upshot?”

The proxy crossed its muscled arms. “You really want to know?”

“Why not?”

“All right. The Supreme Council thinks you’re a bad apple, but whether or not more russes will turn like you is an open question. In the meantime we find you useful.”

“Fair enough. Good to know.” Fred began to swim to the door and stopped. “What about you, Veronica? What do you think?”

“What do I think about you?”

“Yeah.”

The proxy rubbed its chin. Even with her face unpacked, Veronica had a strong chin. “You have the clone fatigue, no doubt about it. You are ground zero for clone fatigue. You are the first robin of spring. I think that if we open our colony to runaway clones, we should expect a flood of you.”

Fred grunted.

The journey of a thousand suns begins today
. Meewee addressed a select audience of world leaders in the holo skybox as well as millions of Earth-bound viewers on the Evernet. Five gleaming Oships floated in a ragged line within the Trailing Earth launch zone. Blue fire sparkled in their donut holes as their torus targets were energized.

Some may question whether the journey is worth the sacrifice and danger
.

The skybox seemed to float within the launch zone and offered its guests a privileged close-up view of the ships. Among the VIPs in attendance were Cabinet, in its attorney general persona; Ellen Starke, who grew taller with each passing day; and Ellen’s newly announced stepmother, Liz Starke. Liz had been cloned from the murdered Eleanor Starke’s genetic material, according to news reports, and been granted a small portion of Starke Enterprises assets, including Heliostream. Also present were Saul Jaspersen, Zoranna Alblaitor and Nicholas, Million Singh, and other GEP brass. Noticeably absent were Andrea Tiekel, who remained hospitalized after a runin with a NASTIE, and her mentar, E-P, who had mysteriously abandoned mentarspace and was presumed raptured.

To them I say that no sacrifice is too dear and no danger too great to ensure the very survival of our human species
.

A second Eleanor clone, Elaine Starke, along with a Cabinet clone, attended the ceremony from the ESV
Garden Hybris
. All of the ship’s illustrious plankholders not in the crypts had gathered before a giant holoframe in Nightlight, one of the four inhabited drums. Cabinet appeared as a fashionable young woman, the same age as Elaine; it was the old mentar’s first new persona in fifty years. The clone of Million Singh, Seetharaman, was also present, as well as clones of Andrea Tiekel and E-P.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Elaine whispered.

“Don’t get cocky,” warned her mentar.

What will we find when we arrive at our new homes? That’s an open question. For a century, deep-space probes have reported alien lifeforms,
but thus far none which we recognize as intelligent beings. Are we the only biological intelligence in the universe? Perhaps our definition of intelligence is too narrow, too specio-centric
.

In the next
Hybris
hab drum over, and in the next few dozen more, in the core of the drums where it was weightless even under rotation, were the biostasis crypts. And in the crypts, among the inert colonists, lay thousands of secret soldiers of one stripe or another. Some were only slumbering, ready to answer their leader’s call at once, and some were dry and brittle, like old paper, tucked away for the long haul.

In one cryocapsule crouched, not a human soldier, but a mentar with a rare tolerance for solitude. In its pasty brain festered schemes and plots of mass destruction.

For, are not trees intelligent, who know to shed their leaves at the end of summer? Are not turtles intelligent, who know when to bury themselves in mud under the ice? Is not all life intelligent, that knows how to pass its vital essence to new generations?