“Covert organizations can operate more effectively than their parent bodies,” said Cane. “They can respond to changes more rapidly, and can work in areas prohibited to officials. I believe that this is a good sign, Morgan. Working for the council, you would have been just one agent among many; your voice could have been lost. Now you have a greater chance of gaining the attention of the entire Ulterior, and in time the council itself. Now, I believe we will start to make progress.”
She couldn’t remember the last time he had shown such enthusiastic support for one of her decisions. Her satisfaction was tempered only by the part of her that wondered if he was telling the truth.
“Well, I hope you’re right, Cane, and Ameidio is wrong. No offense.” She smiled at the ex-mercenary, who shrugged affably back. “Maybe we should look at the file Nemeth gave us, to see where we’re supposed to go.”
Kajic displayed a map on the main screen. It showed the entirety of Sol System, as mapped by the Phlegethon’s network of ftl drones over the previous days, with particular attention to a region beyond the planetary ring, one hundred and fifty million kilometers out from Sol. There, a moderately large collection of ships and habitats had gathered, including—if Roche wasn’t mistaken—no less than five outrigger spines. Someone must have piggybacked them into the system, since they didn’t use hyper-space technology. But why they were here at all, Roche didn’t know; the system itself didn’t even have an asteroid belt. She wondered if Nemeth had given her this region because she had worked with outriggers before. Certainly, there didn’t seem to be any other reason.
“What does the file say about the people here?” she asked.
“There’s a wide mix,” said Kajic. “Some extremely Exotic Castes and some Pristines, with numerous variations in between. Some Castes segregate except to negotiate; others mix freely. There are three mobile habitats around which most of the activity takes place; the largest of these is called Perdue. There has been word of fighting from its vicinity, and remote observations of weapon-use. This is to be our first destination.”
“How long will it take us to get there?”
“Twenty hours,” Kajic replied.
“And does the file tell us what we’re supposed to do when we get there?”
“No,” said Kajic. “Nor in the other destinations we’ve been given, either.”
“So I guess we’ll just have to wing it,” said Roche. “And no doubt stir up trouble in the process.”
“I bet that’s what Nemeth is hoping for,” said Haid. Shaking his head, he added: “Look, if you really think this is the right thing to do, Morgan, I’ll go along with it—but...”
“I know.” She stood. “Uri, advise Defender-of-Harmony Vri of our destination, and let him know the course you set. Get us on our way as soon as possible. And keep us camouflaged. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better.”
She looked at the faces of the people in her charge. Maii, out of the hazard suit, seemed older, thinner, and paler beneath her hair than when they had first met. Haid’s dark black skin and biomesh looked out of place against the warm browns of the bridge, lending him an air of discomfort. Neither Kajic nor Cane had changed at all—the former’s image artificially generated and never looking as tired as he felt, the latter seemingly untouchable. The one and only time she had seen Cane at a loss had been when he was thawing from the coma Linegar Rufo had used to keep him contained on Galine Four. And even then, she had sensed dangerous aura around him—like a bomb that could explode at any time.
“Okay,” she said after a moment. “We need to be fresh when we arrive at Perdue Habitat. Unfortunately we no longer have the luxury of the Box to keep an eye on things, so we’re going to have to take shifts keeping watch.”
“I am alert,” said Vri, his face appearing on the main screen in response to Kajic’s hail. “I’d be more than willing to keep watch.”
“I appreciate it,” said Roche, “but I’d like one of my own crew awake too. And don’t you volunteer either, Uri; you can only run for so long on stimulants. I’ll take the first watch. If something comes up that Vri and I can’t handle, I’ll sound the alarm. But until then, I want everyone to get some rest. That goes for you too, Cane.”
“If you insist, Morgan,” said Cane.
Roche had expected some objection from him, but was thankful it didn’t come. Whether or not his obedience was offered in response to her earlier suspicions or for completely innocent reasons, she didn’t know. Nor did she care. She was simply grateful not to be getting into an argument right now. She was just too tired.
She watched as Cane stood with his easy, smooth grace, and strode from the room without another word. Haid was close behind, with Maii in step beside him. They stopped at the doorway and Haid turned to face her.
“You will call, right?” he said.
She smiled. “You know I can’t handle this ship without you or Uri.”
The ex-mercenary returned the smile and then, with Maii using his eyes for guidance, left the bridge.
“Now you, Uri,” she said to the hologram standing in the center of the bridge.
“I won’t deny that I am tired, Morgan,” he said. “But I am concerned that you are, too.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ll be okay. And I’ll be watching your systems to make sure you’re doing as you’re told.”
“Very well. I will rest for four hours, the most I need at this time. When I wake, it’ll be your turn.”
She raised her hand in mock salute. “Sweet dreams.”
His image flickered out, and she was left with Vri’s face on the big screen. “We’ll speak if something happens,” she said. “Otherwise, stay alert.”
“I will,” said the warrior, and closed the link.
Even then, she wasn’t alone.
<Box, put a forward view on the main screen, along with a navigation chart. And dim the lights.>
Almost instantaneously a chart was displayed before her, showing numerous ships in a wide variety of orbits, none with any likelihood of crossing their path. Several were traveling in directions similar to the Ana Vereine, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything; there was so much traffic in the system the chances were high that at any given time there would be such a coincidence.
Two green circles winked around objects in the display. Neither was following them.
<I’m assuming they work by sending information through hyperspace to and from the Phlegethon.>
<That would be a reasonable assumption,> the Box said.
<You’ve seen technology like this before?>
<No, Morgan, but I am aware that it exists. There are many ways to communicate.>
<Does the Crescend use technology like this?>
<No.>
The simple response held a wealth of meaning. No, because the Crescend had far surpassed such simple beginnings. No, the Box wouldn’t tell her any more if she asked. She tried to imagine what sort of communications a being thousands of years old and comprised of many millions of mundane Human minds would use. Instantaneous? She wasn’t prepared to rule anything out....
<Does the Crescend know you’re still alive?> she asked.
<Yes.>
<Have you communicated with him?>
<After a fashion. We do not exchange information in the way mundane Humans do. It is more complicated than that.>
<Could you communicate with him now if you needed to? Could you ask him something?>
<Yes.>
<So you have access to the High Human’s communications systems?>
<Some. For the most part, I am restricted to the means of communication you have at your disposal—namely those of the Aria Vereine.>
She thought for a few seconds before responding. <Would you be offended if I chose not to believe you?>
<Not at all,> the AI replied evenly. <Although I would stress that I have no reason to lie.>
She could th
ink of plenty of reasons why the Box might not want that information freely disseminated. <Would you ask the Crescend a question for me?>
<If you wished it.>
<Would he answer?>
<I am in no position to speak for him, Morgan.>
<But you wouldn’t rule it out?>
<No. He might.>
She nodded. <What you’re saying, then, is that we could have contact with the High Humans at any time we want—or one of them, at least.>
<Potentially, yes.>
The admission didn’t make her smile. <In other words, you made me lie to the council.>
<You didn’t lie, Morgan, because you didn’t know the truth.>
<That’s splitting hairs, Box, and you know it. Why don’t you want the council to talk to the Crescend?>
<Because the Crescend has no desire to talk to them.>
<But why?>
<Because he doesn’t believe that the council is relevant to the solution of this situation.>
<But they’re the biggest force in the system. If they can’t...> She stopped, feeling cold at the thought. If the council, with the united forces of the four hundred plus Pristine nations behind it, couldn’t fight back—who could?
The answer came to her almost immediately. <The High Humans,> she said. <The High Humans could wipe out the enemy any time they wanted, couldn’t they?>
<It’s not that simple, Morgan.>
<No? They have so much more experience, and their technology is better; there must be thousands, maybe millions of them—>
<It is not that simple, Morgan.> the Box stressed. There was a harsher tone to the Box’s voice, but that didn’t stop her.
<Why not?>
<You are extrapolating wildly. The High Humans are not super-Human. They too need to know who they are attacking. When the enemy as an individual looks like any other Pristine Human and as a group has become enmeshed in many Pristine governments, will any amount of higher thought or technology prevail?>
She wasn’t satisfied with this answer. <So why can’t they at least talk to the council?>
<Because the risks outweigh the benefits, Morgan. If the council has no contact with High Humans, the enemy will not know for certain that the High Humans are involved. Uncertainty may lead to indecision; indecision may lead to tactical error.>
<But how are the High Humans involved? As far as I know, you’re the only evidence that they’re showing the slightest interest, and even then, you’re just a go-between.>
<Trust me, Morgan,> said the Box earnestly. <1 am much more than that.>
<Then what are you? Why are you here, and who sent you? Is it just the Crescend, or are there more of them? And if they ever work out how to find the enemy, will we be able to rely on them to help?>
The Box hesitated, then said: <1 cannot answer these questions, Morgan.>
<You’re saying you don’t trust me?>
<1 am saying that you are Human,> said the Box. <Nothing more.>
<You are saying that, or the Crescend?>
There was another slight pause. <1 am in communication with my maker, yes.>
<He’s listening right now?>
<In a manner of speaking, yes.>
That stopped her. The High Human was eavesdropping on them; the being that had grafted the Box to her very cells and sent her headlong through the galaxy was actually paying attention to what she said! The thought was unnerving. Nevertheless, she had the ear of someone a million times more evolved than she was; she knew she should use the opportunity while she had it.
Only one question concerned her at that moment.
<Does he actually care, Box?>
<What do you mean, Morgan?>
<Does he care what happens to us lesser Humans?>
<I would not be here if he didn’t,> said the Box. They had come full circle: the Box was proof that at least one High Human was interested in what happened on mundane levels—was, perhaps, even concerned—but beyond that refused to say anything at all. He had access to technology undreamed of, but wouldn’t allow them to use it. He could step in at any time and be of great help in the struggle to understand and repel the enemy, but he did not. He preferred lurking in the shadows....
Roche saw no point in pursuing the matter for the moment. She had more immediate things to worry about. Things she could actually do something about—or at least feel like she was doing something.
Once again, as the Ana Vereine powered its way across the solar system, Roche suspected that they were being followed. Not overtly; two ships hung back a long way and changed their trajectory several times, presumably in an attempt to allay suspicion by diverting attention away from their true activities. But their signature always reappeared on the navigation chart, and there was no doubt in Roche’s mind why: they were in pursuit of the Ana Vereine.
They could have been Ulterior drones or ships making sure she was doing the right thing; they could have been completely unrelated to her situation in the system—security probes or freebooter scouts, establishing the ship’s status as either threat or opportunity. Regardless, Roche’s first thought was to shake them, but the difficulty of doing so outweighed the benefits; evasive maneuvers were less effective at high velocities, and any change in course at all would mean recalculating their orbit around the sun. No large feat, but it would mean waking Kajic.
Her best chance of losing them would come when they reached a relative halt at Perdue Habitat. That was just under a day’s travel. Until then she would simply have to try to ignore them, and take action only if either ship made a hostile move.
<If I fall asleep,> she said to the Box, make sure you keep an eye on things, okay?>
<Of course,> the AI said. <And I will doctor the surveillance records to show that you were awake. Kajic will never know.>
<And Cane?>
<He is in another section of the ship, exercising.>
Roche frowned. <Have you ever seen him sleep?>
<He has infrequently and briefly entered states that are sleep-like, but that is all.> The Box’s voice was soft in her mind, soothing. <I will ensure he does not intrude. If he were to find you asleep—>
<He’d suspect something is up. I know.> She commanded her first officer’s chair to unfold, allowing her to recline more comfortably. Remembering everything Nemeth had said about the importance of finding the enemy, she asked one last question:
<You recognized Cane, and you knew Jelena Heidik’s name. Would you be capable of recognizing another clone warrior if you came across one?>
<It is possible,> the Box said. <Either by name or face, if neither had changed. However, I suspect that given time and opportunity, both would change to reflect the environment the clone warrior is trying to infiltrate. Remember, Morgan, that both Heidik and Cane were recent awakeners; and remember also just how effectively Heidik disguised herself as an outrigger.>
Roche nodded. <There has to be another way, then.>
<You may be right,> said the Box without conviction.
<You don’t sound too confident, Box,> she said.
<I’m not, Morgan.>
The blunt and frank response surprised Roche. She had grown accustomed to the AI’s self-assurance, and despite feeling a certain trepidation at times, had come to take comfort in the idea that she could rely on the Box. To hear its uncertainty now was somewhat unsettling.
<Hey, who knows ?> she said lightly, trying to reassure herself as much as the Box. <Maybe things won’t be as bad as we imagine.>
<Maybe,> agreed the Box. <But I fear they will get much worse before they get better.>
6
IND Ana Vereine
955.1.31
0050
Whether the Box’s prediction had been specific to their journey or not, it turned out to be correct. Three hours after falling dreamlessly asleep, Roche woke to the sound of alarms: a Kesh interceptor was moving in to attack. The alarms brought the rest of the crew to the bridge, where Roche, still shaking off sleep, coordinated their
response.
“How the hell did they find out who we were?” she muttered to no one in particular.
The interceptor—not one of the two ships she’d had her eye on earlier—was determined. Its relentless assault ended only when Defender-of-Harmony Vri dispatched it with a sustained blast from his A-P cannon. Before they could even begin to work out what to do next, an entire Kesh squadron slow-jumped to their location and opened fire.
“I have no idea,” said Haid, operating the weapons systems with Cane as fast as he could. “But they want us real bad.”
Roche glanced up from where she and Kajic were plotting evasion tactics and escape routes. “It’s only one squadron,” she said encouragingly.
“One could be enough,” said Haid. “And to jump like that, at a moment’s notice—they must’ve been waiting for the word. This didn’t happen on a whim, Morgan.”
Roche returned to the task at hand without agreeing or disagreeing. The sound of incoming weapons-fire was distraction enough without trying to have a conversation at the same time.
<They want revenge,> said Maii, lifting the information from the minds of their attackers. <Their war with the Olmahoi is going badly, and they blame us for getting them into it.>
“I can see why they’d miss the Sebettu at a time like this,” Haid said. “Which they probably blame us for too.”
“Forget the small talk, Ameidio,” said Roche. “Stay focused! Maii, how did they find us so easily?”
<They weren’t looking for us,> the reave explained. <Since we left the Phlegethon, they have been looking for Vri’s vessel. He wasn’t camouflaged. They simply deduced that any ship like his with a companion vessel was likely to be the target they were seeking.>
Roche cursed Nemeth’s insistence that they take an escort—and herself for allowing this chink in their armor. “How’s Vri doing out there, anyway?”
“Exceptionally well, actually,” admitted Haid. “There are only six ships left. If I were them, I would’ve called off the attack long ago.”
“They won’t do that,” said Cane. “Theirs is a suicide mission: it’s a matter of win or die.”