Ship of Destiny

by Frank Chadwick

  “I don’t know if I have the authority to do that,” he said.

  “Of course you do,” the Guardian replied. “Your authority in this star system is absolute. It is possible your superiors will disallow such an arrangement when you return to their authority, but that is not important to us for now, is it?”

  No, it wasn’t. If they could actually get to a place where his superiors could overrule him, they’d have won. What would she do with her freedom, though? Well, he could still have her escorted, still keep her out of sensitive areas, still physically prevent her from taking action harmful to the ship and its passengers and crew. If she tried something, he could clap her in the brig again. He wasn’t giving her immunity from their rules, after all, just changing her status. He looked at Däng.

  “Doctor, what can you do for our people over there?”

  “Nothing, Captain. Believe me, I wish the answer were different, but I have no option to offer you. The only way we can save them is to force or persuade the Guardian K’Irka to reverse the process she started. The best we have is a possible vaccine against the agent, but that will not help those already infected.”

  A vaccine. Sam could vaccinate his two remaining platoons of Marines and put them over there if it came to that, but then what? Sam turned back to Te’Anna. “I don’t understand why I need to agree to this as a precondition.”

  “It is not necessary to understand,” Te’Anna said, “only to do. In this I ask you to trust me.”

  “That’s asking a hell of a lot.”

  “I am aware. If it is of help, Doctor Däng has come to trust me and you should consider her opinion on the matter. She is certainly very intelligent and has won some sort of prize, I forget its name. Although honestly it seems you have as many prizes as you have rules. My Marine friend Showalter said that his daughter had won a gold star for reading, and someone else told me you won a silver star in your last war. Which colored star is better?”

  Sam glanced at Private Showalter, whose face was turning red, and he suppressed a smile of his own.

  “Gold, definitely.”

  Sam looked at Doctor Däng who shrugged, a gesture he had never seen her use before and which struck him as disingenuous. Te’Anna could not have put this proposal together on her own. She didn’t know enough about their laws and customs. Still, he had two choices, and while neither of them was particularly attractive, he knew which one offered the most opportunity for success.

  “Very well, you have a deal,” he said.

  “Not a deal, Captain Bitka. You give me my freedom without condition, or requirement of any specific act in recompense.”

  “Okay, I understand. Te’Anna, you are no longer considered a prisoner and hostile combatant. Your status is now a neutral noncombatant. Furthermore. I undertake to repatriate you as soon as it’s practical. We’ll draw up an official document, but for now Doctor Däng and your two Marine . . . friends will serve as formal witnesses to my decision.”

  “Oh, good!” she said. “I feel better already. It happens I do have an idea how we might save your people on the shipyard. Would you like to hear it now?”

  As the orbital shipyard grew larger on the PSRV’s control display, Sam considered his parting from Ka’Deem Brook. The XO had not questioned Sam’s decision to change Te’Anna’s status or to go along with her plan, and it occurred to him those were the first decisions of Sam’s in quite a while the XO hadn’t taken issue with. He’d actually seemed fairly cheerful saying goodbye and wishing him luck. Sam had a funny feeling Ka’Deem Brook didn’t think he was coming back from this adventure, and that the thought didn’t bother him a bit. Wait for the crazy captain to get himself killed or infected, send a landing party down to Seven-Echo and find someone who could fix a jump drive, then get the hell home. Of course, that probably meant abandoning all their people on the Highstation, but their memories would be honored, probably with a plaque somewhere. Sam unbuckled the restraints that held him in the copilot’s chair.

  “Boats, as soon as we’re in the station airlock, get the PSRV clear and head back to the Bay.”

  Chief Wainwright glanced at him without moving his head, keeping most of his attention on the instruments. “You might need a ride in a hurry if things go south, sir. Why don’t I take up a parking orbit about a kilometer away?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but do as I say. If this does go south, I doubt I’ll be at liberty to leave.”

  “Hell, why don’t you take a gauss pistol, sir? Shoot your way out if you have to.”

  Sam laughed. “I don’t even remember how to take the safety off one of those things. Wainwright, if something does happen, you’ve been a hell of a senior chief bosun, and God knows I needed one. It’s been a privilege serving with you. But once the Guardian and I are on the station, you get your ass away, understood?”

  “Aye, aye, sir. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone in uniform could have done a better job with this mess than you have, and that goes no matter how this last trip comes out.”

  Sam finished unstrapping from the copilot station but before he pushed off he held out his hand and Wainwright shook it. Sam kicked lightly up and back and floated to the rear of the main cabin to join Te’Anna, the only other passenger.

  “How’s that vacuum suit fit?” he asked.

  “Not as well as I would like. It is tight across my shoulders and under the arms. I hope that will not limit my mobility too much.”

  “Engineers only had a few hours to fabricate it. I just hope it holds atmosphere if you need it.”

  She turned that unblinking gaze on him for a moment before replying. “I am less likely to need it than will you. Try to keep your helmet closed as long as possible.”

  “You having second thoughts about the vaccine you and Doctor Däng cooked up?”

  She tilted her head to the side before answering. “We also only had a few hours to fabricate it. I just hope it does not kill you.”

  Just what he needed, Sam thought, a Guardian with a dark sense of humor.

  “There is something I would like to say, Captain Bitka, while we have a moment,” she said in a different tone and without looking at him. “I have wanted to say it for some time but my circumstances were such you would have interpreted it as an effort to curry favor and so would have discounted it. I hope you will not do so now, since at this point I have nothing to gain from it. When your delegation came to the Eye of P’Daan, I was visiting his compound but was not party to any of the negotiations leading up to the meeting. I was invited to participate in the offering, and it is expected that all Guardians present will do so under those circumstances, but I did not know this was other than a voluntary offering of appeasement. I regret my participation. Regret is a very foreign emotion to me and although I value novel sensations, I do not like this one.”

  Sam wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Just being reminded of the “offering ceremony” sent a shudder of revulsion through him. He believed her regret was sincere; he just wasn’t sure what to do with that regret.

  “I’ll have to think about that,” he said.

  A half-dozen Desties relieved both Sam and Te’Anna of their helmets as soon as they were in the station. Other Desties stared at them as they first floated through the zero-gee docking area and then made their way into the station’s rotating habitat wheel. It felt to Sam as if it was spun up to about nine-tenths of a gee. That was light for the Desties, but then he remembered that comfort of the Guardian would trump everything else. Ten minutes later they were brought into in a large machine shop, judging from what looked like robot machinery lining the walls. Sam took it to be robotics, but some of it looked more alive than mechanical and he again wondered where to draw the lines between machine and creature; the Guardians had certainly managed to blur the line in his mind.

  Speaking of which, a Guardian, who Sam assumed must be K’Irka, waited for them in the center of the large open work area. She was shorter than
Te’Anna but still taller than he was. Unlike Te’Anna, her feathers were mostly yellow and pale red, and her glowing aura also had a reddish tint. The difference in the heights of the two Guardians made him wonder about Choice’s theory these were the biological machines left behind by a vanished race: why make functionally identical versions of your machines different sizes?

  “Te’Anna,” the Guardian said without any other greeting to either of them, the words translated in his head by his commlink, “so it is true you have gone over to the invaders?”

  “Did those Troatta-things say so? They must not be very intelligent. I was a prisoner. The invaders had me go with one of them while he spoke with the Troatta. I did so. But I am no longer a prisoner; this one has decided to release me to you.”

  K’Irka looked at Sam and tilted her head to the side. “So. This is the one called S’Bitka, the Destroyer of Worlds.”

  “Well, that’s an exaggeration,” Sam said. “I’ve only destroyed one world . . . so far.”

  K’Irka turned to Te’Anna. “What bargain did you make with him for your freedom?”

  “None. He released me without condition, as a gift to you to establish his good faith.”

  K’Irka studied Te’Anna’s face carefully for several long seconds, then let out a sharp explosive puff of breath. “Pha! He must be a fool.”

  “They are sentimental and hopeful, like most mortals,” Te’Anna said, walking slowly across the floor to join K’Irka. “I am not positive this is invariably a weakness, but in some circumstances, it can certainly be a disadvantage. He has come here to get you to heal his followers and let them go so they can return to their home, which is certainly an act both of hope and of sentiment. Could the On-Living Engineers really have repaired their star drive?”

  “Of course they could, if they would agree. I cannot imagine they would. I doubt the invaders could even get their attention, the On-Living ones have become so fixed in their behavior.”

  Te’Anna stopped next to K’Irka and lightly touched the other Guardian’s shoulder feathers. K’Irka twitched in impatience and turned away.

  “Don’t turn away, my friend,” Te’Anna said. “It has been so long since I have been with and touched one of my own.”

  “Why the others value your wisdom escapes me,” K’Irka answered, turning her back to her. “You are a silly creature.”

  “Oh, let me feel you in my arms,” Te’Anna said and enveloped her from behind, one arm around K’Irka’s throat, the other behind her neck in the classic choke restraint Marine Private Showalter had shown her and practiced with her for over an hour. K’Irka’s eyes bulged and her mouth opened but no sound came out. The Destie guards moved forward in alarm, energy weapons raised.

  “I am your Guardian!” Te’Anna’s voice rang out in a tone of command Sam had never heard. “This business is above you. Attempt to raise a hand against me and you will join the On-Living on the surface of Haydoos, and your pain will never end.”

  The guards exchanged uncertain looks and then stepped back, lowering their weapons. Then Te’Anna put her lips close to K’Irka’s ear and spoke in a tone too low for Sam or the guards to hear. She spoke for what seemed a long time as K’Irka’s struggles weakened and then became simply twitches. Te’Anna had told Sam she would persuade K’Irka to help them, but he remembered her distaste for this other Guardian and wondered if she had changed her mind, and the plan now was to simply kill her. He nearly spoke, nearly stepped forward to remind her they needed K’Irka alive, but he didn’t. With guns in nervous hands all around him, the balance in this tableau was too delicate to upset. He had to trust her, and trust that her sense of obligation to Lieutenant Ma would not let her kill the one being who could heal him.

  Te’Anna relaxed the pressure of her arm and K’Irka slumped but did not collapse. Sam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  Te’Anna supported K’Irka and helped her to a seat on a low vertical casing, and then she turned to the Destie guards.

  “It is over. All is well between us. Return to your other duties. We will send you instructions soon.”

  The Desties hesitated, but then K’Irka raised her face and gestured to them, and despite their clear uncertainty the Desties filed out. Sam waited until they were gone to approach the two Guardians, still not entirely sure what had transpired between them and where he stood. Time to find out.

  “So, what can K’Irka do to cure my people?”

  The seated Guardian rubbed her throat and Te’Anna answered for her. “I think the restoration will take some time, but it can be accomplished. The important thing is that her expertise is at our disposal.” She turned to the other Guardian. “You will get to work on that right away, won’t you?”

  K’Irka wagged her head from side to side.

  “That is an affirmative response,” Te’Anna explained.

  Sam had his doubts. Agreement forced under the threat of imminent death was only good as long as the threat could be maintained, and right now he didn’t see much way to do so beyond Te’Anna following K’Irka around with a gun at her head. What was to keep her from going back on the deal once she was back with her guards? Honor? From what Sam had seen, Guardian honor was too frail a reed to support the weight of their future.

  “Your fears are groundless, S’Bitka,” he heard K’Irka say, her voice raspy. “Yes, I see your suspicion. Te’Anna has persuaded me to assist you and accompany you back to your realm.”

  She stood up and walked to him and then examined him, shifting her position to see him from different angles. “I believe what she says is true. You were not raised up by Guardians. You evolved independently. And there are five other species in your realm who also have evolved into intelligent life without manipulation. We have no recollection of ever encountering such a thing, although if it has happened with six species in such a concentrated area of space it must have happened elsewhere. Your stars, they are all high metallicity late-blooms?”

  “I don’t know what that means. I’m not an astrophysicist.”

  “I cannot imagine any other explanation,” Te’Anna said.

  K’Irka looked at her with an expression Sam took as something approaching scorn. “Te’Anna, when will you learn that the universe is not limited to what you can imagine?”

  Sam felt a jolt of adrenaline as he remembered having said almost the same thing to Homer Alexander. When was that?

  “S’Bitka, I must know more,” K’Irka continued, turning back to him. “I must understand the steps of the process. All of our creations resemble us, because we made them. But structurally you resemble us as well. If that was not the result of deliberate manipulation, what was the operant principle at work?”

  “I can’t tell you, but I have a biologist onboard who might. She’s a widely renowned scientist, honored for her work, although I don’t really understand it.”

  “Structural ubiquity,” Te’Anna said.

  K’Irka turned to her. “What?”

  “That was the work for which Doctor Däng was honored, and it is the operant principle you seek. Regardless of the chemistry of organisms, the engineering path nature uses to build large structures from smaller ones is essentially the same, hence the external similarities in form and function.”

  “I must speak with this doctor-thing,” K’Irka said, her voice firmer now.

  “She is very concerned for the recovery of our people over here,” Sam said, trying to steer the conversation back to something practical. “She will want to discuss that with you first. If you restore them to health, I’m sure she will be grateful to work with you.”

  “Oh, yes,” Te’Anna added. “She was deeply impressed with your work on the transformational retrovirus. You know much more about the genetic and cellular aspects of life, but I think she can open an entirely new world of inquiry to you, the various naturally branching trees of life leading to intelligence.”

  K’Irka closed her eyes and leaned her head back, taking in a long
, slow breath. She seemed to fill up, come more alive, and Sam knew they had her. She opened her eyes.

  “Oh, but the star drive is unlike your machines. It lives, an enormously complex colony of microscopic organism. Reprogramming it without degrading its function is extremely difficult. Only the On-Living Engineers and H’Stus know how to do so, and H’Stus is far beyond our reach.”

  “You don’t have the information in some sort of memory storage?” Sam asked.

  “Of course, but it will take a year or more to train new technicians in its use. You have only days before the arrival of the rest of the Troatta ships.”

  “The engineers live below, on Haydoos, don’t they?” Sam asked. “Can’t you order them to help us.”

  “It is not that simple,” K’Irka replied.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Four days later, Destie-Seven-Echo

  19 July 2134 (one hundred fifty-three days after Incident Seventeen)

  Hell must look like this, Sam thought as he rode the needle down to Destie-Seven-Echo’s poisonous yellow surface, yellow from its omnipresent coating of sulfuric volcanic ash. No shortage of that on this world. Once the passenger compartment slid down through the last cloud layer, he saw a bleak vista of bare rocks and dead or dormant volcanic cones lit by the glow of active volcanoes scattered in every direction to the horizon.

  It’s like Io with a dense atmosphere, he thought. As a newly minted ensign a decade ago he’d orbited Io, Jupiter’s fifth moon, on his first duty rotation to the outer Solar System. Now here he was, about to get out and walk around on this apocalyptic landscape and hope the coating on his hazard suit was as good as advertised against sulfuric acid. There probably hadn’t been much problem with that until the Guardians decided to give the place an oxygen-rich atmosphere. What were they thinking? He remembered a rhyme from middle school chemistry: