Playing God (49 page)

“I know.” Arron straightened up slowly. “Now, I'm asking for another one.”

He's going to call my bluff,
thought Arron, looking into Keale's calculating brown eyes.
It's not going to work. He's going to see I won't let Lareet and Umat die if I can help it.

But Keale didn't say anything. He just swung the chair around and laid his thumb over a key chip on the comm station. After a moment, the station beeped and a drawer slid open. Keale lifted out a piece of paper.

He hesitated. “I just want you to know,” he said without turning around, “that if it was just me, this would not work. I am only doing this because there are other people I do not want to see dead.”

“I know,” said Arron, and he was shocked to realize he really did.

Keale handed the paper to Arron. “Great stuff, paper. Learned about it from the Dedelphi. Humans used it once upon a time. I've got no idea why it was abandoned. Absolutely no way to cut into it or tap it through the web. No wandering backups and no shadow records.”

Arron read down the list quickly and felt a chill growing inside him. There was a paragraph about lowering the city-ships into the atmosphere and shifting the angle on the artificial gravity to shake the cities apart There was a paragraph about letting loose engineered molds to blight an entire harvest and leave the Dedelphi dependent on Humans for their food, delivery of which would be contingent on their good behavior.

Finally, there was the paragraph about landing, taking whatever would pay for Bioverse's considerable losses, putting the PR dervishes to work on tales of unspeakable barbarity versus brave Humanity, and leaving.

Arron folded the paper into thirds and put it in his pocket “You've already arrested Cabal, haven't you?”

“Yes.” Keale's voice was mild.

“He only did it because I paid him to.”

“I thought so.” Keale stood. “We'll be trying you with him when we get back.”

“I thought so,” said Arron in a reasonable imitation of Keale's negligent tone. “When do we leave, Commander?”

“In one hour, Dr. Hagopian. We want to meet me
Ur
as far away from Dedelph as possible.”

“Of course.” Arron stood up. “I'll meet you in the hangar in an hour.”

When the word came down of what had been decided about the
Ur,
Lynn was snatching a prefab, flash-cooked meal in her cabin with David. He'd taken the opportunity offered by need to get medical supplies and report on what was going on aboard the
Cairo
with the Paeccs Tayn and the Ui Shai to steal a couple of hours with her, and Lynn was grateful.

She'd been trying to tell herself that Keale would find a solution to the
“Ur
problem.” That there was absolutely no question about it. He was in consultation with the admiral, and the
Ur's
captain, and there'd be a plan, and they'd put it into play and everything would work out.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself believe it. Work had ground to a halt The spy satellites had been reoriented to track the
Ur
’s flight as it swung out in its wide elliptic. Nobody had the least doubt that Keale and Esmaraude had made a correct prediction. The Getesaph were going to drop the
Ur
on their ancient enemies.

Lynn had quickly squashed the notion of telling the t'Therians. What good would it do? Was there any way they could evacuate even some of the population of t'Aori in the time remaining? Not that they were going to have to, of course, but they couldn't even if they thought they might have to…

And even with David holding on to her, Lynn had felt cold fear sink in and numb her to the bone.

Then, the comm station lit up with a message from Keale, about the solution to the problem, and about Arron's part in it.

Lynn looked helplessly at David.

“Go,” was all he said.

Lynn went. Double-damning Bioverse propriety, she ran through the pleasantly designed wood-paneled, full-spectrum-lit corridors. She ran through the bulkheads flanked by stands of bamboo and beds of ferns. She ran through the flower gardens and rock gardens and summery arbors until she crossed into the plain, angled, metal-and-ceramic hall that led to the hangar deck.

She leaned on the bulkhead, breathing hard and scanning the white chamber. Arron stood next to one of the shuttles, looking around himself half-expectantly, half-worriedly. When he saw her, his face smoothed, and he crossed the shining floor to the doorway.

Lynn just looked up at him.

He held his hand out, but let it fall. “I'm sorry,” he said.

“For what?”
You're going out there to kill yourself; do not expect me to make this easy on you.
The thought was irrational, and she knew it. He was doing this for himself, for her, for the Dedelphi, for his friends, for Bioverse. She should be thanking him. She should be … She should be doing anything but what she was.

“For everything.” He waved both hands helplessly. “For not being able to talk to you. For not being able to explain. For…” Arron took her in his arms and kissed her, long and warm and deep. She kissed him back, for all the old love and lost friendship they held between them.

He let her go. She had nothing to say. There was nothing left to say, not until he came back, if he came back.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper folded in thirds. “Here,” he handed it to her. “These are real. I got them from Keale in exchange for my help. I don't know what you want to do with them, but…” He paused. “But I thought you should see them.”

Arron turned on his heel and strode across to the waiting shuttle.

Lynn stood there, stiff-backed and dry-eyed, until the siren cut the air, warning all personnel to leave the hangar. Depressurization commencing in three minutes. Two minutes, thirty seconds. Two minutes, twenty.

Lynn held herself to a walk all the way back to the cabin. It wasn't until David put his hand on her shoulder and asked what was wrong that she broke down crying for Arron and everything that had never happened.

“It's all right,” David leaned her toward him. “It's all right. Go ahead. Just let me …” He lifted the paper from her fingers.

“Ah, God,” Lynn wiped at her eyes. I don't even know what it is. Arron gave it to me …” She took it back from him and unfolded it.

Under the machine-printed heading ̶Contingency Plans in Case of Fatal Breach of Contract” came a list. Lynn read it and felt the blood drain away to the soles of her feet.

“What the hell was he thinking?” she demanded of David.“It won't come to this! We've got everything under control!” She bunched the paper up in her fist. “He knows that We've got everything taken care of. We—” All at once a pair of very different eyes flashed in her mind, not Arron's, but Praeis's. Praeis's when she'd called to find out what was really happening, and Lynn had lied.

David read the expression on her face. “So, what the hell was he thinking?”

She looked at the crumpled paper again. “He was thinking of showing me what other people were planning on doing if the Dedelphi didn't cooperate. He was thinking of showing me where it could lead if we forgot—” She swallowed. “If I forgot that I'm not the only one playing this game.”

David sighed. “So, what are you going to do this time?”

The sound of near exasperation in his voice made Lynn swing around to look at him.“David?”

He took her hand. “Lynn, listen to me. I'm behind you, whatever you do, but do you remember why we're here? Really? We're not here to save the world, or help Bioverse make a profit. We're here because an independent race of sapient beings asked us to come help. Now you and Bioverse are telling them what to do, and Arron's telling them what to be, and no one is asking
them
how they want to handle this mess we've all gotten into.”

His voice was soft, but his eyes were thunderous. He was not angry at her, she knew him well enough to know that. He was angry at the mess that had invaded the project like a brand-new virus. One more plague to harrow the Dedelphi.

She swallowed again, and her throat ached. “You're right,” she said slowly. “But David, I can't let the war start up again. I will not let people die when I can stop it. If that's playing God, then it is and it's probably immoral if not illegal and I'm doing it anyway.” She looked at the crumpled wad of paper in her fist. “But I can tell Praeis what's going on.” She unclenched her fist from around the paper. “All of it.”

David took her empty hand and smoothed it out. “It'll be enough, Lynn. Somewhere in here, it will be enough.”

Lynn leaned her head against his shoulder. “God, I hope you're right.”

Chapter XX

T
he hangar bay was stuffed to the brim with sisters, but even under the rich scent of too many bodies in too small a space, you could still smell the rot from the city. All of the shuttles were full of soldiers and sealed tight with their own air filters on. The remaining sisters had moved in here by suggestion and mutual consent. No one had been able to get the main filtration system going again, but here the smell was at least bearable. Besides, many said, where else should they be at this time man shoulder to shoulder with their sisters?

Lareet looked at all the sisters crowding the deck. All the ones who were going to die with the ship. They were, each one of them, as cheerful as Umat, reminiscing and joking with each other, as if they were all on their way to one great battle, which they were. They would go proudly to the World Mothers.

Umat had almost certainly sent her down here in the hopes that some of the spirit would rub off on her, and it was succeeding. She walked among the soldiers, received their hails, asked if the boredom wasn't wearing on them, offered to top their lies. She felt the bond tightening between all of them. It was real and it was holy and the strength of it almost dizzied her.

She breathed it all in deeply.
This is for you, my Daughters,
she said to the children in her womb.
From my blood to yours, feel and understand how this is all for you.

“How do we progress, Dayisen Lareet?” asked a soldier Lareet didn't recognize, and without a name, she couldn't assign a rank. No one had come to this ship in uniform.

“We progress beautifully, my Sister,” said Lareet, loud enough for anybody interested to hear. “We have passed our apogee. Soon it will be time for our sisters onboard the shuttles to take the news back to the Hundred Isles of Home that our daughters are forever safe.”

A resounding cheer rang across the deck. Lareet let it lift her up.
A good speech,
she thought.
Umat will be proud.

As if that were a cue, the open speaker crackled. “Dayisen Lareet is requested to return to the command center.”

Inspired by the lightheatedness around her, Lareet bowed to the speaker box, raising approving laughter.

“Duty calls even our commanders,” observed someone.

“Never was there greater truth, Sister,” Lareet called back.

The long walk through the empty, stinking corridors cooled her blood considerably. By the time she reached the command center, she was able to wonder, and to worry, why she had been summoned.

The hatch cycled back to let her through and she saw Umat and the other commanders clustered around the one comm station they'd left working, in case the Humans said something they really could not ignore. There had been pleas, requests for negotiation, and the level voice of Commander Keale issuing extraordinarily polite generalized threats.

Now, though, Scholar Arron's voice came out of the station.

“Lareet? Lareet?” Inside her mind, she could see his smooth brow furrowing with exasperation. “I know you have to be there somewhere. How long are you going to make me keep talking to myself, here?”

She crossed the deck in half a dozen steps. Umat felt her coming and moved back to make room for her in the crescent of sisters who glowered over the station as if it were a bad omen.

“Lareet, answer me. Umat? You must know where she is. Will you go get her please? We've got… I've got something you need to hear. It's important. Please, answer me.”

Umat met Lareet's eyes, and dipped her ears.

The skin between Lareet's shoulders bunched up. She reached out and touched the key the coders said meant “reply.”

“I'm here, Scholar Arron,” she said.

Arron's familiar sigh of relief drifted out of the station. “I'm grateful to Mother Night. Listen, Lareet, have you got any cameras working on that thing yet?”

Lareet flicked an ear to Umat, who turned to the bridge commander. She dipped her ears. “Yes, we have,” said Lareet.

“Good.” Arron did not sound very certain.
What is happening?
The last of the warmth from the hangar left Lareet's blood.

Arron went on. “Set one Of the command center cameras to…” He paused, and she could hear a faint voice in the background. “Coordinates 16,24,16.”

“Do it,” said to the ovrth at the navigation station.

A section of the central table lit up. In comical unity, commanders turned from the station to the table. The screen showed a grid, the stars and one large, luminous globe right in the center of the view.

“What is that?” breathed Umat.

“That's probably us,” answered Arron. “I'm aboard the city-ship
Manhattan
with Commander Keale and Captain Esmaraude. We're on an interception course with your ship.”

The skin crawled across the back of Lareet's neck. Her toes dug at the metal deck. “Arron, what are you doing?”

Arron hesitated. “I'm helping to stop you, Lareet. If you don't break this off, we're going to run the
Manhattan
straight into the
Ur.
You'll all die, and so will we.”

The command center was so silent Lareet could hear her own heart beat like thunder. “Scholar Arron, you can't mean it.”

“Dayisen Lareet, I do. It's all over. The only question is whether we live through it or not.”

Umat left her side and strode over to the sister at the navigation post She whispered in her ears. Lareet barely heard the answer. “Dayisen Umat, that will take at least a half hour to code.”