The Orion Plague (24 page)

Raphaela smiled, tearful, looking with
approval at Skull, at the unfamiliar tender expression on his face,
hoping with the oft-vain hope of women everywhere that a child of
two bodies would somehow make them one again.

“How can he be speaking already? He can’t be
a month old.”

“I am a Blend, more than human, and he’s half
a Blend. I accelerated the pregnancy a little: he’s ten weeks,
actually. I also transferred a huge store of Meme genetic memories
to him. I also…well, the process also may have unlocked some of
yours.”

Skull looked at her in confusion. “What?”

“You contributed your genetic material. One
sperm contains the equivalent of about seven hundred fifty
megabytes of data. Some of that is racial genetic memory. That’s
just one cell’s worth, the one that fertilized the egg. Then my
Blend biology provided many times as much during the
gestation.”

“How much of me is really in him?”

Her face dimpled in a smile. “More than the
average child has of his father. He’ll be tall. He already shares
that schnozz of yours, and my eyes. He already knows you. And he’s
an Eden, of course, so he’ll be healthy. And smart.”

“So he’s some kind of genius?”

Raphaela smiled further, nearly blinding him
with her perfect white teeth. “He should develop to the apex of
human capacity, as well as having access to a great deal of stored
knowledge, bypassing the need to learn it. So yes, in one sense, he
will be a genius. More like a human being operating near the upper
limits of his mind.”

Struck speechless, Skull could only stare at
the mobile little face. “So small…What’s his name?”

Raphaela moved closer, gazing up into Skull’s
visage. “I thought I’d leave that to you. He’s your son. What do
you want to call him?” She watched him carefully.

He gently disengaged one finger from a tiny
hand to stroke the fine hair on the baby boy’s head. “There’s only
one answer I can think of. His name is Ezekiel. We’ll call him
Zeke.”

“And what’s his last name?”

Skull eyed Raphaela in vague irritation.
“Can’t let it go, can you? Can’t just let things be? The more you
push me, the less inclined I am to go along with what you
want.”

Her eyes teared up in turn, but she smiled
through them. “At least you figured that out.” She shrugged.
“That’s progress.”

Captain Absen awoke with the distinct
impression he was not alone. He opened one eye, expecting to see
the apologetic face of one of his staff poking in, but the cabin
door was shut. He closed the eye for a moment before both suddenly
snapped open, staring in amazement at the small Asian man with the
thin moustache sitting in his chair, utterly still.

The American rolled to a sitting position on
his bunk, incidentally bringing him closer to his .45 in the
bedside drawer. The other man did not move, but nodded to him
gravely, a seated bow.

“Good day, Captain,” he greeted Absen softly.
His mouth twitched up in the ghost of a smile. “I am pleased to
meet you. My name is Nguyen.” He wore a simple black jumpsuit with
no markings save an Australian flag and a cloth nametag on his
chest.

Absen’s heart thudded in his chest. “Spooky
Nguyen, they call you. Hijacked the
Nebraska
, fired eighteen
nuclear missiles.” He swallowed with eyes hot as his lips skinned
back to nothing. “Those warheads killed my family.”

Nguyen blinked, stared past Absen at nothing
for a long moment. “I bear responsibility. I fired the missiles. A
rogue Psycho changed the targeting. The culprit has been dealt
with. It was a tragedy, and for my part in it, I deeply and
sincerely apologize.” He stood and bowed low from the waist,
holding the position for long enough that Absen could have gotten
out the .45 and blown his head off.

Instead, the captain blew out a long breath
and rubbed his face with his palms. “It was war. The Unionists…my
country’s hands aren’t clean either. We nuked civilians, we
launched kinetic strikes. If I make this personal I’ll lose my
mind.” He put his hands on his knees. “All right. You mind telling
me what you’re doing here? And I won’t even ask how you got past my
people.”

“Even so, I will tell you.” Nguyen sat back
down and smiled. “Dadirri.”

“Uh-huh. Some kung-fu ninja magic?” He
pounded one knee lightly. “And…”

“And I am here to offer my help.”

Absen looked around his cabin, as if seeking
some kind of answer to this mystery. He shrugged, sitting back
against the bulkhead. “Okay. Your reputation precedes you, so I
won’t dispute your ability or the value you might place on it. But
why do I need your help?”

Nguyen smiled, held up a first finger. “If I
can get in here, perhaps others can too.”

“Unlikely, but stipulated.”

Second finger: “Your crew is composed of men
and women of a hundred nations. Do you think none of them have
separate, possibly disastrous agendas?”

“I have no doubt of it.

Third finger: “For at least the next two
months, this ship is the most powerful weapon in the solar system.
Once you deal with the alien, how will you secure your
command?”

Absen nodded, thinking. “Any more fingers?”
he asked after a moment.

Nguyen shook his head. “Not for now.”

“So you’re here to…what? Be my covert agent?
And why would you do that?”

“Let’s just say I am…providing insurance. I
know you have a dozen or so of America’s best to guard you and
enforce your will if need be. But your real concern is five hundred
Australian Space Marines.”

“If this whole situation wasn’t so deadly
serious I’d have to laugh at that silly name.” Absen walked over to
his small refrigerator, taking out a plastic bottle of orange
juice. “Want anything?”

“Yes, the same if you please. And what would
you call them?”

“Just…Marines, I guess.” He handed Nguyen one
bottle. “Cheers.”

“Up the Irish.” Spooky took a swallow. “No
matter what they’re called, they carry the real power here. Which
means they hold the human race in their hands.”

“Yes, all this has occurred to me. In fact, I
had dinner with Colonel MacAdam and his company commanders last
night, just to assess them. The Colonel seems like an honest man.
I’d feel better if he were an Eden, but then again, I’m not either
so I can’t fault him for that.”

Nguyen put down the plastic bottle to clasp
his hands around one knee as he leaned forward. “Interesting that
you should point that out. Everyone wants everyone else to be an
Eden; so they are predictable, trustworthy, loyal. But look how
many do not wish to be so themselves. What does that say about the
human condition?”

“Are we here to talk philosophy?”

“Nothing truly exists but philosophy,
Captain. Without it we are mere animals.” He tapped his temple with
one slim finger. “Philosophy guides the mind, the mind guides the
body, and the body guides all of history. I am an Eden,” –
of a
sort
– “did you know that?”

“Yes…and I never understood how you could be
so effective with that handicap.”

Nguyen smiled humorlessly, as if pained. “It
forecloses some options while opening others. I am still myself. I
am still a major general in the Australian Army. And I am still the
deadliest single individual on this ship. I commanded all of those
men during their training, selected their cadre, their officers,
and the colonel himself. MacAdam has ambition, I am sure, but I
doubt he would oppose me openly.”

“So you’re…what? My ace in the hole?”

“An apt metaphor. I am a card you must play
at the right time, if you need me.”

“Why not just take control of the Marines
now?”

“And alienate MacAdam by snatching his
independent command away? How would you feel if an American admiral
suddenly presented himself to you and said he was taking
Orion
from you?”

“Point taken. So you just…blend into the crew
for a while? Stay out of sight? How do I reach you if I feel it’s
time?”

“Just make an announcement over the ship-wide
PA for Mister Winter to report to the captain.” Nguyen stood up as
if to go.

“Why don’t you stay and talk a while? I have
a dozen questions to ask you just off the top of my head.” Absen
tossed the juice bottle into his trash bin with a practiced flip of
his wrist.

“You have much too much to do. In fact, I
suspect we are about to be disturbed.”

A knock came at the door. “Captain?”

Nguyen bowed sharply once more, then opened
the portal for Steward Repeth standing outside. “Hello, Jill,”
Nguyen said as he walked calmly out, to her complete and utter
shock.

Absen looked Repeth in the eyes and held a
finger to his lips.

She nodded, speechless in any case.

For several days Skull made sure he never
lost his temper, never raised his voice, never gave any hint of
inner turmoil. He knew the game; Raphaela was testing him. While
she seemed confident that he would not deliberately hurt Zeke, he
noticed she was restrained, careful, reserved around him.
Observing. And he had no doubt that after nine or ten months she
had rigged the base with all sorts of traps and fail-safes to put
him back into confinement if she felt it necessary. So he waited,
and played the role she wanted.

A funny thing happened. As the days went by,
he played the role less and less, and became the role more and
more. Their comradeship, their sexless pseudo-marriage became more
and more friendly, more relaxed, less a wary dance between
mistrustful strangers and more a smooth and comfortable
partnership. Like brother and sister, they raised a child they both
loved.

For the sake of peace he’d avoided talking
about the future, but finally he couldn’t help asking as they
cleared the table on the fifth evening. Zeke lay asleep in his
cradle. “So…when can we expect our visitors?”

“Eight days. I was hoping to discuss it
tonight.” She handed him a plate to put in the recycling
bioprocessor.

Skull smiled wryly, not entirely believing
that.
Probably she was waiting for me to bring it up, that way
I’m the bad guy for introducing a dose of reality into her idyllic
domesticity dream
. “Well, we’re talking now. Tell me about it,
in detail, would you please. What should I expect them to do?”

“They will not leave their ship at first.
They will match velocities with the comet, then they will send down
a biomechanical probe. They will hope to get their answers that
way; Meme are by nature a cautious race, as most who live long
are.”

Skull laughed quietly. “Do you know when you
start talking about the Meme, Raphael comes out. You sound like a
professor giving a lecture.”

“Or an intelligence officer giving a
briefing; did you ever think of that? Why are you always so eager
to prove that I’m not really human? Can’t I be fully both?”

“How can anyone be fully both of anything?
That’s like there being more than one hundred percent of anything –
it’s impossible,” he retorted.

“Weren’t you brought up Catholic?”

Skull froze, then forced himself to relax.
“Sure.”

“Doesn’t your Church teach that Jesus was
fully God and fully man?”

“Maybe that’s the exception that proves the
rule. You got a Christ complex? Besides, even if I still believed
that stuff, it would be a matter of faith. We’re talking about
biology here.”

“Let me put it another way, then,” she said.
“What makes a man? His body? Or his memories? What if I could
transfer your mind into someone else’s body and your personality
was the stronger?”

“It would be,” he said with confident
amusement.

Ironically. “Of course. But who would that
Alan Denham mind and that Joe Smith body be? You, him, or both of
you?”

“Me,” Skull crowed in triumph. “That’s my
point. Your four thousand year old Raphael mind makes you more him
than Ilona.”

“So it’s a matter of amount? Percentage of
memory? But here’s a better analogy – I graft a computer into your
brain with a database containing enormous knowledge – every video,
every newspaper, every scrap of history the human race ever
generated. Are you still you? I just gave you a set of memories a
million times larger than your own.”

“But Raphael wasn’t just a database. He was a
conscious being.”

Raphaela put her hands on her hips. “Yes, but
in our terms, he was a human-level psyche with an inhuman storage
capacity. His actual thinking, reasoning mind was no larger than
yours or mine. In fact, his willpower was certainly less than
yours, and probably less than Ilona’s. So there was no superiority,
no dominance. Raphael deliberately gave his will over to Ilona,
incorporated himself into her. That’s the best way I can explain
it.”

“So you’re a mostly-human body with a
mostly-human mind with a mostly-alien database in your head.” His
sarcastic tone had absented itself. Instead, he mused.

“Just like you’re a mostly-human body with a
human brain and mind, but who knows how long until the nanites find
a way to do the job they were programmed to do?” Her mouth quirked
up at each end.

“What? What does that mean?” His shoulders
and hands twitched as if he thought about seizing her but
suppressed it.

“That means that the nanobots are relentless,
and they are small enough and their life-cycle is short enough that
they are undergoing a rudimentary adaptive process.”

“Life-cycle?” He looked at her aghast. “The
nanites are alive?”

“If that’s the label you want to put on them.
They certainly have some of the characteristics of life. They
reproduce. They absorb energy, they take actions based on their
internal imperatives, they make rudimentary decisions – kill this,
leave that other thing alone, rebuild those. And I’ve observed that
they adapt. In fact, I’ve forced adaptations on them in my lab.
It’s only a matter of time until they find a way past your
blood-brain barrier and enter your grey matter
en
masse
.”