The Dark Imbalance (33 page)

* * *

When she woke an hour later, it was on the crest of a soothing dream. She was a plant, absorbing nutrients and turning them into cells one by one, growing and stretching at a patient, steady rate. She existed; she was. Stripped of all fears, all concerns, she delighted in the simplicity of just
being....

Then the memory of the decision she had to make came rushing back, and she realized at once what was going on.

replied the girl, without the smallest trace of guilt.

she said, stretching her one free arm and raising her head. She could at least feel her other limbs now, under the cast do
feel better.>

Roche rested her head back on the bed’s cushioned support.

The girl’s reply was instantaneous and frank.

Roche thought of the white sphere that had enclosed her from the torturer-reave.

irikeii
meant when he referred to me as an ‘enigma.’>

Maii responded

Roche was too tired to explain—not that she was entirely sure about it herself. Part of her wished she could return to the peace of mind her dream had offered, even though she knew it had been false.

Maii asked with a smile in her voice.

Roche returned,

Roche resisted the girl’s soothing touch.

Her mind felt cold when the reave had gone, but she was glad for the privacy. There were things she needed to consider that the girl had probably already read from her mind but which she didn’t want to dwell on with an audience watching. The Box had left her in a difficult situation which, if everything it had said was true, required a clarity of thought she found difficult to achieve even at the best of times.

She went to fold her hands across her chest but was stopped by the white plastic shell of the surgical cocoon enclosing her left arm. She rested her right hand on her neck instead, finding comfort and reassurance in the beating of her own pulse. She was still on the board.

You must decide, Morgan...

The Box’s words turned idly in her thoughts. It had said that the High Humans were reluctant to act against an inferior enemy, even if there was a possibility that the enemy might actually win against the mundanes they chose to attack. It had said that the Crescend, a noted Interventionist, was concerned about mundane affairs and would act against the enemy if allowed to by the rest of the High Caste. It had concluded by saying that the High Humans had agreed to abide by the decision of one mundane Human, thereby taking the moral dilemma out of their own hands. How they would do that, exactly, it hadn’t said. Maybe the Crescend would modify others as he had modified her, to enable mundanes to locate the enemy within; or maybe he would act directly, using weapons more superior than she could imagine.

However they did it, she felt safe in assuming that the enemy would be destroyed. The High Caste rarely acted, but when it did, it always got what it wanted.

So the decision was hers: to wipe out the enemy or not.

She was amazed by how difficult it was. On the one hand, she could end all the squabbling in Sol System and throughout the galaxy, at the cost of a Caste which might have a genuine grievance. On the other hand, she could let the conflict run its course. If the enemy won, so be it. She had no idea just how great a cost that would be to the trillions of other mundane Humans inhabiting the galaxy.

In terms of lives, it was relatively easy to judge. She didn’t know exactly how many clone warriors there were, but they seemed to seed one or two per organization they were trying to infect. On the
Phlegethon
there had been only five. There might be millions scattered across the galaxy—but even those sorts of figures paled if the chaos they had caused in Sol System could be extrapolated everywhere. Millions of lives versus trillions: on any scale, the test was simple.

But of course it
wasn’t
that simple. If it was, she wouldn’t have been Human.

Restless, she tried to roll over, but of course she couldn’t. The autosurgeon simply rolled the bed onto a disconcerting angle, then swung it back when she clutched at it in alarm.

“Uri! How long do I have to stay in this damned thing?”

“An hour or two,” came Kajic’s voice. A second later, his form appeared in the holographic tank. “Nerve reconstruction and bone marrow grafts have yet to be finalized in your injured pelvis. I’m told complete immobility is advisable.”

She grunted. “I’m not hungry or thirsty, either. Is that normal?”

“Completely. The autosurgeon is taking all your bodily needs into account. Except for boredom, I suppose.”

“I’m not bored.” She sighed. “I do need some input, though. It’s hard to keep up without my implants. Can you give me a screen or something down here? I’d like to see what’s happening in the system,”

“Of course.” Kajic’s image dissolved, leaving a complicated display in its wake. “I’ll leave you with full access to the data we have on the current state of play. Some of it is coming from the IEPC drones; the rest I’m extrapolating as we go. I think it’ll be enough to give you an overview, anyway. It is voice-activated.”

“Thanks, Uri.”

She settled back to browse through the charts. The system was a mess of conflicts, the largest concentrated around the blue triangle of the
Phlegethon.
As far as she could tell, five whole fleets had declared war against the massive vessel; it looked as if it was holding its own, but she couldn’t tell how much longer that would last.

Elsewhere the situation was more difficult to analyze. Red patches, indicating conflict in one form or another, had spread to cover entire sections in the system. Most were concentrated around the plane of the ecliptic, but there were some hot spots farther out. One concentration of fire was high above the sun’s north pole, where two swarms of comet-chasers appeared to be fighting over a third party’s observation complex. Another was very close to the sun, whipping up strange currents in the chromosphere.

Mines were marked with yellow stars and tended to form drifting sheets like two-dimensional shoals around protected fleets. Regions of weakened space were marked with purple cross-hatching and avoided by all. Areas suspected to be under enemy control were delineated by sharp black lines. There were odd white patches in the rings that Roche couldn’t identify but guessed were installations of some sort designed to interfere with passing ships. The gray crosses indicating derelict vessels were everywhere—whether largely intact, smashed to fragments, or completely gaseous.

She could discern no pattern to the conflict, and the Box wasn’t around to tell whether any one Caste was being consistently spared the fighting. All she could do was go by its earlier statement that no such bias was being shown. If the enemy did have an agenda, then she didn’t know what it was.

That didn’t
necessarily
mean that the enemy’s goal was to wipe every other mundane from the face of the galaxy. It was possible that the events in Sol System did not represent how things would go elsewhere. Yes, she had heard of civilizations that had fallen under the influence of the enemy—Rey Nemeth’s and Hue Vischilglin’s were two—but they were only a handful out of millions. It was barely conceivable that all would fall. Once the element of surprise was lost, as it surely would be after Sol System, the enemy would face a stiffer, more organized resistance.

Unless that resistance was undermined from within. She had to assume that there was nowhere the enemy couldn’t penetrate if it wanted to. The only way to keep them out was to conduct rigorous genetic testing—which would never be rigorous enough, as the
Phlegethon
had demonstrated—or to rely on others like her to find the clone warriors before they could do more damage.

If that was what the Crescend had in mind, she might agree to support it. But she had no way of knowing until she actually spoke to him.

“Uri?”

“Yes, Morgan?”

“This is going to seem a little strange, but I need you to give me an open communications channel.”

“Communicating with whom?”

“I want to broadcast a message aimed at the sun. I don’t want you to wait for any reply protocol or anything. If the only way you can do that is by radio or laser, that’ll have to do.”

“I can arrange that for you at any time, Morgan.” Kajic didn’t ask why she would want to, but the question was present in his tone. “A tightbeam would be less likely to give away our location.”

“Okay. Give me the open line; audio only. And...” She paused slightly. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let anyone listen in.”

“Of course, Morgan. Opening the line now.”

Roche didn’t say anything at first. If the Crescend responded, that reinforced everything the Box had said; she still wasn’t sure she wanted that. But if he didn’t respond, that was just as bad. She would have no idea at all what was going on, then.

There was only one way to find out.

“Dawn comes,” she said.

A familiar voice responded immediately from behind her right ear:

“—to bring an end to the dark imbalance.”

The table spun beneath her as she twisted by reflex. “Box? If that’s really you, I’m going to—”

“I am not the Box, Morgan,” interrupted the voice, this time coming from the other side of the room. “You know who I am.”

Her skin goose-bumped. Who else could it be? For a few moments she didn’t know what to say. “But your voice...” was all she could manage.

“The Box was a part of me in the same way that your eye is a part of you—or your finger, or your anterior cingulate cortex. It was not me, and I am not it.”

Roche looked around her. The voice changed position constantly. She couldn’t tell if that was an effect of the way it was being broadcast into the room, or whether it was something more significant. Maybe it was just trying to keep her
off
balance.

He,
she corrected herself. The Crescend wasn’t an
it.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“It has been a long time since last we met,” he said with some amusement, deliberately avoiding her question.

“It hasn’t been that long since Trinity.”

“I’m not talking about Trinity.”

She frowned. “Then I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? I thought you might have guessed by now.”

“Guessed
what
?”

The Crescend was silent for a long time, long enough for her to wonder if the line had been broken.

“Uri,” she called, “is this line still open?”

“He can’t hear you,” said the Box’s voice, this time coming from somewhere behind the autosurgeon. “No one can hear us talk. It’s just you and me. And your decision.”

She shifted nervously in the cocoon. “You’re not seriously going to leave it up to me, are you?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s crazy, that’s why not! I’m just one person. I’m not in any position to judge—”

“You’re better qualified than you realize.”

“Well, I don’t
feel
qualified.”

“You can locate the enemy, for a start.”

“How does that help my decision?”

“It’s proof that I can back up my offer to assist you. Without such proof, my offer could seem empty.”

“And that’s all you’re offering? A way to find the enemy so we can finish them off?”

“Is that the help you would like the High Caste to provide?”

She opened her mouth, then shut it. “You’re not going to trick me into a decision like that.”

“It’s no trick. I’m genuinely interested in your answer: what do you want us to do, Morgan?”

“I don’t know,” she said, feeling trapped. “I don’t feel I have enough information to decide.”

“You have as much as you need.”

“But I don’t know why the enemy are here. I don’t know where they come from, even. I don’t know if they mean to kill everyone or just some of us. I don’t know why the war began in the first place. I just don’t
know
!”

“Some of these questions have no answers,” said the Crescend. “At least for the moment. But I can answer that last one for you.”

“Then please do,” she said, annoyed that he had made her ask.

“The original war was fought over territory, as all wars are.”

She waited, but nothing more was forthcoming. “What territory?”

The Crescend chuckled. “Now you are trying to trick
me.
You are hoping that I will specify a location which will help you identify the enemy’s original Caste. Unfortunately, I cannot do that, Morgan. And it’s not because I won’t, but because I
can’t.
I don’t know where the enemy originated—not for certain. All I know is that the original war engulfed the entire inhabited galaxy.”