The Orphaned Worlds (37 page)
‘Was that wrong of me?’
‘Perhaps not, since that was the other Rosa’s self-state.’ She folded her arms, a familiar gesture. ‘And that is the image I would have had I assimilated her mind-image in full. I decided not to, instead holding her memories as accessible data rather than merging them with my macropersona …’
Her voice trailed off a little and Robert thought he detected uncertainty.
‘So, are you happy – being older?’
She frowned. ‘The Construct’s persona-modelling subsentience is very sophisticated and after considering the previous Rosa’s experiences I decided that different characteristics would best suit this mission, like increased upper-body strength and improved muscular response. Happiness is less important than competence and focus, and I am more resilient and versatile than the previous Rosa …’
‘Apparently we are to recover a vital object …’
‘There is no “we”, Father,’ she said. ‘This mission is too dangerous for an unaugmented Human. The Construct is sending me to an Achorga nestworld to track down and retrieve an entity called a Zyradin, then take it to Darien’s forest moon. The Zyradin were artificial lifeforms designed by the Forerunners to merge with distributed sentiences like Segrana, giving them conscious control over all planetary biomass and energies. Awakened, a fully conscious Segrana can deal with the occupiers and evict them from both Darien and the moon, Nivyesta. Father, if the Construct has asked you to go with me I would respectfully ask that you turn him down. The dangers are considerable.’
For the last couple of sentences her gaze slid away to the wallscreen with its image of the ship,
Absence of Evidence
.
‘I see,’ Robert said. ‘So you’re worried about my well-being.’
‘Of course, but there is also my effectiveness to be considered. Under conditions of great peril it would be impaired if I had to ensure your safety as well as my own.’
Robert shook his head. ‘If this undertaking is so dangerous why doesn’t the Construct send a fleet of combat units off to take care of it?’
‘Several reasons,’ she said. ‘A planetary assault against an Achorga nestworld would rouse every hive against us, perhaps even draw in other nestworlds. Then the unpredictable consequences of military action could make it hard to locate the Zyradin, and resistance would stiffen if the enemy reasoned out the focus of the attack. The Zyradin might be captured or even destroyed if that happened.
‘Another reason is that the Construct’s resources are under pressure. Ships of the Vro and the Shyntanil, two Abyss civilisations once thought occluded, have attacked a number of the Construct’s outposts. The Aggression is being deployed in response.’ She turned to face him. ‘Which is why I should undertake the mission myself. I have the skills and the physical characteristics that will ensure success.’
‘I see, I see,’ Robert said. ‘You make a compelling argument, Rosa, robustly put across. I just want to be certain that you really are focused on the mission itself, on the retrieval of this Zyradin creature – that is your first priority, yes?’
Rosa frowned. ‘Of course. I think I made that point very clear.’
‘Then to ensure success, in a hostile environment, against unknown enemy topography, and in search of a hidden goal, you have to take a partner. Someone to watch your back, to share ideas and problems, to take over if you … are unable to continue …’
‘Father …’
‘Rosa, you’re …’
‘No, I’m not … Rosa.’ She glared at him. ‘You recall what the other one said, that you can only lose your daughter once? Yet you let your feelings march all over your reason, and you think that it is still your job to protect me. Well, I
don’t
need your protection, and I
don’t
need a partner.’
‘I fear you may be wrong,’ said the Construct as it entered. ‘Robert’s argument is almost indistinguishable from the one I was going to make to you in the event that you failed to reach the necessary conclusion.’ The spindly, gleaming machine glided over. ‘You are of course at liberty to withdraw, in which case I shall have to find another suitable companion for Robert.’
For a moment or two Rosa regarded the Construct with a piercing gaze. Then, slowly, she nodded.
‘Very well, Construct, my father can accompany me. But I would ask that he undergo at least basic combat skill imprinting. For what we are likely to face, blade proficiency will not be enough.’
‘Imprinting combat skills?’ Robert said. ‘How, and is it safe?’
‘It is a long-established process,’ the Construct said. ‘After mapping the relevant areas of an organic cortex, it is possible to imprint certain reflexes and skill sets, combat-related in this case. The imprinting begins to fade after the second sleep cycle and there are no harmful side or after-effects.’
‘That sounds acceptable,’ Robert said, swinging his legs out of bed. The pale green onepiece went down to his knees and was quite adequate in the mild air. ‘When can we get this done?’
‘Immediately, if you wish.’ The Construct paused for a moment. ‘I have just instructed the care chamber to prepare the treatment for you, a combination of bloodwork and field actuation. You will be conscious throughout and will experience no discomfort.’
Robert smiled, his mood optimistic until he saw the resigned look on Rosa’s face. Suddenly he wondered if he had pressed his argument too forcibly, without giving proper consideration to Rosa’s viewpoint.
Well, it’s done now
, he thought.
Perhaps there’ll be more time later for nuance
.
‘I imagine that we will require a new ship,’ he said. ‘The
Plausible Response
took a serious mauling.’
‘The
Absence of Evidence
is in the process of de-amalgamating a small, fast vessel for your use.’ The Construct indicated the wallscreen where Robert saw that a smaller delta shape composed of about a dozen odd-shaped modules now sat atop the original ship. As he watched, an oval, pale amber module moved amongst, or was moved by, a mesh of struts and cables to take up a position near the new vessel’s stern. ‘It will soon be ready to depart.’
‘And will it have a name?’
‘It has already chosen to be known as the
Evidence of Absence
.’
‘I am looking forward to going aboard.’
‘We are already aboard,’ the Construct said, pointing out a segmented module in the upper midsection.
Robert smiled, amazed at the continual stream of wonders.
‘In that case, I shall waste no more time,’ he said, feeling almost exhilarated. ‘How do I get to the care chamber?’
Once he was gone, Rosa said:
‘A shame you cannot give him more.’
‘It suits his needs,’ said the Construct. ‘And my purposes.’
Mirgast was the outermost of the Tygran system’s five planets, an azure-blue ice giant with a couple of tiny moons and a tenuous ring of rocky debris. The
Starfire
arrived nearly an hour ahead of the rendezvous with Sam Rawlins and took up a synchronous orbit.
At the same time, Captain Gideon was giving Theo a tour of the ship. Officially, the
Starfire
was designated a scout yet its adaptable holds and hull allowed it to carry out a variety of roles.
‘Versatility is the key,’ Gideon told Theo. ‘Tygrans have always had to make the most of scarce military resources, as well as scarce manpower.’
They had paused on a gantry overlooking the dimmed main hold, its ceiling hung with netted cargo pallets and some kind of vehicle wound in opaque wrappings. Theo was striving to maintain a civil exterior but his resentment at being dragged away from Darien was deepening, not lessening. In fact, the overt militarism of Tygran attitudes was beginning to grate.
‘What about your culture?’ he said. ‘Don’t you have artists, composers and playwrights?’
Gideon was puzzled. ‘Well, there are amateurs who dabble in such diversions for the amusement of family and friends, but such pastimes are not taught.’
In other words
, Theo thought,
the soul of Tygran society is not openly expressed and examined. Such a blind spot is a weakness
.
Then Gideon chuckled. ‘Rawlins once said that because we fought for the Hegemony under the name Ezgara and wore concealing suits with extra arms, all of us were really actors performing on a vast stage!’
Hearing this, an old quote came to Theo’s mind. ‘“They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts.”’
The Tygran frowned. ‘That seems familiar …’ He was interrupted by a chime from his wrist-com. ‘Gideon here.’
‘Sir, a small vessel has just emerged from hyperspace at 73.8 kiloms and is heading our way. It’s not answering our hails and long-range sensors show that it’s venting from combat damage.’
‘I’m on my way to the bridge now.’ He looked at Theo. ‘Care to join me, Major?’
‘I would indeed, Captain.’
The bridge of the
Starfire
was compact and split-level, with the commander’s chair overlooking two other consoles, helm and tactical. As they entered, Malachi looked up from the tactical station and gave Theo a brief nod before addressing Gideon.
‘Captain, we’ve ID’d the newcomer as an Alecto-registered Bund launch; course is the same and still no response.’
‘Has to be Rawlins,’ Gideon said as he settled into his padded couch and pointed out to Theo a pull-down seat nearby. ‘Open a narrowcast channel …’
‘Space mass disruption,’ said the officer at the helm. ‘Proximity hyperspace transit at 89.5 kiloms, a second ship, small, military profile … it’s gone to full thrust on a pursuit course … targeting its weapons on the Bund vessel …’
‘Move to intercept, Mr Berg,’ Gideon said. ‘Target their weapons and drives.’
The bridge’s viewport was a sloping transparent wedge flanked by screens showing various system data as well as magnified images of the other two ships. Outside, the great blue curve of Mirgast slid away as the
Starfire
moved out of orbit.
‘Pursuit vessel is an interceptor from the Tygran Orbital Wing,’ said Malachi.
‘Open a narrowcast channel to it,’ Gideon said. ‘Tygran vessel, this is Captain Gideon of the
Starfire
– stand down your weapons and withdraw …’
‘Sir, the Bund launch has spun to face the interceptor,’ said the helmsman Berg. ‘It appears to be powering up its projector.’
‘Interceptor is refusing all comm bursts,’ Malachi said. ‘It’s nearly ready to open fire.’
‘Bund launch’s projector profile is off the scale,’ said Berg.
‘I think you will find …’ Gideon began before the interceptor suddenly exploded on one of the monitor screens. A bright flare was followed by a brief yellow eruption of burning gases, bright, hot fragments radiating outwards, cooling rapidly to dull red. Theo, startled at first, stared disbelievingly at the spreading wreckage.
‘Ah, yes,’ Gideon said with a wry smile. ‘You’ll find that the launch’s weapon profile more closely matches that of a particle cannon. Some Bund vessels are markedly overgunned.’
‘Incoming communication from the Bund ship, sir,’ said Malachi.
‘Screen it, sergeant.’
At once the image of an elderly man appeared on the right-hand screen. He wore a Tygran officer’s uniform, dark green and grey, and his craggy features were etched with pain. Despite this he managed a tight smile.
‘Captain Gideon,’ he said. ‘Good to see you again. Thank you for backing me up – that flyer should have known what to expect.’
‘Preceptor Rawlins,’ Gideon said. ‘Keeping busy, I see.’
‘All in a day’s work for an old reprobate, my boy.’
‘But … you don’t look well – were you injured before making the jump?’
‘Nothing to be concerned about, Gideon,’ the Preceptor said.
‘Why not dock with us and come aboard? Let the autodoc look you over …’
‘No! … no, it’s of no consequence and time is too short to waste on that.’ The older man drew a shaky breath. ‘Now listen – do you recall our conversations about the Zshahil Wars?’
Gideon frowned. ‘I do … but Sam, I hope you didn’t drag me back here for a history lesson—’
‘Dammit, boy, this is important!’ Rawlins’s face contorted as if from a passing spasm of pain which left him looking suddenly exhausted, with an unhealthy pallor and a wheeze in his breathing. ‘Okay … remember my doubts about how the war ended?’
‘Yes, the final battle, the Cold Truce, the departure of the Zshahil …’
‘That’s right, all of that happening near a fishing port called Zyasla, and all in just a few days …’
Theo was almost incredulous at this, that the reason for his being diverted far from Darien was to hear the maunderings of an old man. Even the man’s starkly poor condition did little to assuage his attitude.
‘… well, three days ago I went there,’ he went on. ‘Took some scanning equipment and a drone digger.’ The man’s face had turned ashen. ‘I … never told you my worst suspicions, Gideon, or about the black rumours I’ve heard down the years. But the time has come for me to pass on my discoveries.’
Gideon gritted his teeth. ‘You’ve got to have treatment …’
Sweat beaded Rawlins’s face as he massaged his chest. ‘Too late, I’m afraid, just too damn late.’ He reached for controls out of sight in the small pilot compartment. ‘There – I’ve just sent you a datapackage with my journals and personal notes, and a recording I made at Zyasla …’ More pain struck him. Trembling hands tore at his uniform, tugging it apart to reveal his chest. Beneath grey hairs and sweat streaks, a long narrow shape glowed through the skin.
‘My binary device has been reactivated,’ Rawlins said, fastening his tunic. ‘Don’t know how they did it but this thing is heating my blood. It’s almost unbearable – my God, it feels like I’m on fire … sorry, I can do no more.’
‘Don’t say such things,’ said Gideon.
Theo and Malachi exchanged a horrified look. Malachi’s own binary bomb had been neutralised by Uvovo scholars back in Nivyesta, Darien’s forest moon.
Theo could see the agony burning in Rawlins’s eyes and was struck by pity and a grim admiration as the man continued.
