The Prodigal Sun (40 page)

Almost before she knew it, she reached the airlock leading to the section designated gold-one. A security keypad requested a palmprint, but the door opened before she could provide one. The Box again, she assumed, making life easy for her.

The first room was indeed a maintenance closet, although one rarely used. Tools and equipment were neatly stored in cupboards and boxes, showing little of the disorder usually associated with frequent use. The second room was empty apart from four chairs and another holographic generator in the center of the floor. The third contained monitoring equipment and a massive, complicated control desk. Glancing at the latter briefly,

Roche noted displays common to life-support systems, along with a few to monitor dataflows.

Life support and information
... For the first time, she wondered whether the Box had known what it was talking about, after all.

An airlock and a single pane of opaque glass separated the final room from the control chamber. At the touch of a switch, the glass cleared, revealing a roughly tubular tank, three meters long and one across, surrounded by arcane equipment.

Opening the airlock, she went inside for a closer look.

The air was cold in the fourth room, kept that way by refrigeration units along one wall. The tank also had an opaque panel that could be set to become transparent. Stepping over ropelike pulse-fiber cables, she did just that, then peered inside.

At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. The tank was full of a murky, pinkish fluid: definitely the second life support system she had noted from the ship’s schematics. A spinal cord hung suspended in the fluid along the axis of the tank—almost taillike—connected to the interior surface by thousands of thin, nervelike fibers. What might once have been a brain remained at one end of the spine, although it was grotesquely twisted and flattened to allow more fibers access to its inner features. Major organs, some of them severely atrophied, clustered at the bottom of the tank, a web of pulsing veins leading directly to the life support system. She could see no recognizable heart or lungs, just what might have been a segment of bowel and a clump of glandular tissue. Certainly no exterior organs, like eyes, hands, or skin.

Apart from the pulsing of the veins, the being in the tank—possibly Human, once—displayed no signs of life whatsoever.

Then, as she leaned closer to study the interface between the cables and the tank, a voice spoke:

“Hello, Commander.”

Startled, she stood upright and turned around. The voice had sounded as though it had been coming from over her left shoulder, but the room was empty except for her. She checked the control room, but that too was unoccupied.

More slowly this time, she turned back to face the tank.

“Yes, Commander.” The voice was male arid pleasant, quite at odds with the physical appearance of its source. “I wondered how long it would take you to find me.”

Roche moved around the coffinlike tank, her hand running along its cold exterior in awe. “Are you in there by choice?” she said. “Or are you a prisoner?”

The owner of the voice chuckled. “I never really thought of myself as a prisoner until recently,” he said. “But yes, that’s what I was.”

“And now?”

“Now I have more freedom than you can possibly imagine.”

“Who are you?” she said, staring at the contents of the tank with some revulsion.

“My name is Uri Kajic.” He paused, noting her distaste. “Perhaps you would prefer to continue this conversation in the antechamber?”

Roche nodded and backed away, careful not to bump into the delicate equipment around her. When she reached the antechamber, its holographic generator flickered into life and cast a life-sized image of a man into the center of the room.

The man smiled openly. He appeared a little older than Roche, with a wide, cheerful face and thick, black hair. His skin was light brown, and his eyes were round.

“This is how I imagine myself,” said Kajic. “What lies in the coffin is the truth of my existence.” The hologram shrugged, and Roche noticed nothing clumsy in the action. Its movements were perfectly natural. “But we all like to keep up appearances.”

Suddenly it fell into place: the holographic generators, the information networks, the missing quarters—

“You’re the captain of the
Ana Vereine
,” she said.

“I
was
,” corrected Kajic. “And these are my quarters.” He chuckled again. “I must be the only captain in history whose crew didn’t envy his suite.”

Roche sagged into a seat, her mind reeling. “But this type of technology is incredible,” she said.

“We’ve had a long time to develop it.” Kajic smiled. “Centuries ago, Ataman Vereine desired an army superior to any other in existence. Science then, however, was insufficiently advanced to modify the Pristine form as Ataman Vereine wished, and the Ataman Theocracy was itself in a poor state. When it joined the Commonwealth, the Military Presidium went underground and channeled its energies into something else: the Andermahr Experiment, specializing in cybernetic interfaces designed to allow mind and machine to merge.”

“And to become...?” Roche shook her head numbly as words failed her.

“A synergistic gestalt,” Kajic offered. “The experiment was undoubtedly a qualified success. I am evidence of that.”

“But how could you have progressed this far without anyone
knowing
?”

“COE Intelligence would have suspected, I’m sure, especially had the Dato Bloc not seceded when its researchers began making progress. You may not have heard of the experiment, though, because the Armada wouldn’t have wanted its relative weakness in this area made public knowledge. Or perhaps it simply wanted its own work in the field kept secret.”

Roche scratched at the stubble on her scalp. Kajic’s final comment made all too much sense. “Whoever perfects the technology first will have an awesome advantage over the other side.”

“I agree.” Kajic nodded, then smiled again. “Perhaps it is better, in that case, for me to have appeared to have failed so badly. The Presidium may hesitate before committing itself to another such experiment. That’s what I try to tell myself, anyway, when I contemplate my defeat.”

Roche belatedly remembered that she was not just talking to a fellow officer; but one on her enemy’s side. “It must be a great disappointment,” she said, “to meet me like this.”

“Not at all,” said Kajic. “I don’t resent your victory, Commander. I don’t even resent you taking over my ship.”

Kajic’s image shook its head. “On the contrary. I
welcome
your arrival. When your Box brought us here, to Intelligence HQ, my second in command thought that my inability to lead had brought about our downfall. She tried to kill me, but your AI disconnected my restraint systems as it took over the ship—indirectly saving my life. For that, and for the freedom to think which I now possess, I am nothing but grateful.”

Roche frowned, remembering how the Box had sent her down to the section. “The Box has contacted you?”

“Along with the Surin,” said Kajic. “Before the takeover, they warned me not to fight too hard, or I would be caught up in the dissolution of the shipboard systems. I didn’t understand then what they meant, but I can see it now. Since then, I’ve been watching, careful not to interfere, biding my time to see what happens next.”

“And what
does
happen next? Will you try to regain control of the ship?”

Kajic laughed. “Like you, Commander, I was used. I hold no allegiance whatsoever to my former superiors. I am, however, still tied to the ship. I am free only insofar as
it
is free. Whatever you decide to do with it, I am obliged to go along.”

Roche grimaced.

“What?” he said.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just hate this idea of everyone depending upon
my
decision.”

“Why? It
is
your decision.” Lines of static flickered across his image, distorting it briefly and reminding Roche of what he actually was. “I’ve been watching the others as closely as I’ve watched you. They’re all supremely talented in their own way—Cane, the perfect soldier; Haid, the grand vizier; Maii, the soothsayer; and the Box, the wizard—but they need something to keep them together. Something more than just a purpose, or a goal—or even an enemy. They need a leader to focus all their energies, otherwise they’ll tear themselves apart within a month.”

“And you’re saying that I should be that person?”

“Who else?”

“What about you?” she said.

Kajic laughed again. “I don’t for a moment believe that you would take control of an enemy’s ship and then reinstate the previous captain! Besides which, I have no desires for such a position. No one knows this ship better than I do, I’ll grant you, and I will gladly fly and maintain her for you. But that’s all. I’d like to enjoy my freedom for a while.”

“That still doesn’t mean that
I’m
the right person.”

“No,” said Kajic quietly. “It doesn’t. But you
are
.”

Roche averted her eyes from Kajic’s intense holographic gaze. “I’m beginning to wonder if I have any choice.”

“Perfect,” he said with some amusement. “All leaders have less freedom than anyone under their aegis. That’s a natural law.” He stopped suddenly. “You’re smiling. Did I say something funny?”

“No. It’s nothing, really,” she said. “It’s just that you remind me of my Tactics lecturer from Military College. And there’s something the Box said just before I came here.”
You will find what you are looking for.
“It probably thinks I’m ignorant, in need of a teacher.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe we
all
are.”

“You’re offering?”

“Haven’t I already said as much?”

She nodded. “And I’m grateful, really. It just seems...”

“Inappropriate? To be taught by someone who, until very recently, was doing his damnedest to take you prisoner?”

Her smile widened. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

“Well, maybe we can teach each other a thing or two. You
did
win, after all.”

“There is that, I suppose,” She met his stare evenly. “Okay. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

“Good,” said Kajic, his image standing—a gesture obviously meant to communicate something rather than out of any real need. “I was hoping you’d say yes. It would have been boring to return to just watching all the time.”

“Well, have no fear about that. Every able-bodied”— she stopped, corrected herself—”
able-minded
person will have plenty to do, no matter where we go. We’ll put you to good use soon enough.”

“Once you’re sure you can trust me, of course.”

She smiled at the disembodied man before her. “Of course, Captain.”

* * *

Several hours passed before she returned, tired but mentally rejuvenated, to the bridge. When she did, she found Haid and Cane anxiously waiting for her.

“Morgan!” The ex-mercenary almost leapt out of his seat at the communications desk when she walked in the door. “We were wondering where you’d gone to. Maii wouldn’t say, and the Box—”

“Was just being the Box, I imagine,” said Roche easily. Then, feeling that at least a token explanation was required: “I’ve been busy catching up on things. Trying to work out what we should do next.”

“Cane and I have been talking it over too, and he thinks—”

“The Palasian System still seems our best option.”

Haid blinked at her for an instant, mildly surprised. “Exactly.”

“But what about you, Ameidio? What do
you
think?”

“I don’t believe it’s my place to decide.” His black face wrinkled into a smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling yourself again. I was getting a little worried, what with all that moping about you’ve been doing.”

corrected Maii, her mind’s voice carrying clearly from elsewhere in the ship.
.>

“Whatever.” Haid gestured vaguely. “The fact is, we’re almost ready to go.”

“Really?” Roche picked a seat at random from the many available on the bridge, and settled into it.

“Yes,” said Haid. “The deal went through in the end.”

“And the repairs are finished,” supplied Cane from where he stood, poised like a sentry beside the command dais. “We’re just waiting on a systems check from the ship’s AI and for the last of the fuel to be loaded.”

“All we need is your ident on the contract, and—” Haid swept a hand through the air “—we’re out of here.”

“Good.” She sighed, relieved. “We’ve stayed too long already.”

“I’ll say. The Box is getting weirder by the second.”

“Then we’d better get started before it changes its mind about helping us.” She glanced up at the main screen, at the shadowy image of Intelligence HQ. “We need a course to the Palasian System with a brief stop at Walan Third along the way. Nothing too energetic; there’s no great urgency, but I would like to get there before the trail grows cold.

“We can even run past Sciacca’s World on the way, Ameidio, if you’d prefer to go back.”

“No.” Haid shook his head. “Emmerik and Neva can handle things back there, and I don’t want to feel like an outsider again. Here, at least, I’ll get to be part of the system—as much as anyone else is.”

Roche nodded. “How does navigator sound?”

“Perfect.”

“Good. Then run the route past the main AI to make sure you haven’t exceeded any design tolerances before you feed it in. We shouldn’t take anything for granted until we know the ship properly.” That was only half the truth. Feeding the route through the system would give Kajic, not the onboard AI, a chance to check it. And the Box could check Kajic as a fail-safe. Between the three of them, there was a reasonable chance of reaching their destination.

“Why Walan Third?” asked Cane, when Haid turned to the astrogation board.

said Maii before Roche could respond. With the words came a brief mental flash: of a barren, windswept hillside under a cloudy sky. Such mental information—dumps were fairly common now, as though the reave was continuing the tradition she had begun on Sciacca’s World. Supplementing paraverbal conversation with images seemed a normal way of communicating for the reave, at least for those she was close to—which at the moment comprised only Roche.