Against That Time

by Edward McKeown

  “I could not fathom why.”

  “Not necessary for you to know. It just is.”

  “Ask your questions.”

  “Is the Ribisan government in on this?”

  “As you mean it, no, or we would have vastly greater resources. The cabal of scientists and heretics has many members in the government, but they are not the government. No more than we are, though we too have our people in the government.”

  “Is the Pillar one of those?”

  “I will not say.”

  I didn’t press the matter. The Pillar’s sympathies seemed clear to me now.

  “Your order seems small and feeble; your attempts on us have been very limited. That tells me that at least on this frontier planet there are not many of you.”

  It hesitated. “I will not disagree with what you have pieced together for yourself.”

  “What of the Commandant?” Maauro asked.

  “A heretic and a fool,” the Ribisan said, “or a tool for such at least.”

  “So we have the Scientists who want to stop us,” I mused, “the Priests who want the predictor back and a government that wants none of this to ever be known.”

  “Succinct.”

  “Maauro, please seal him in one of these storerooms compartments.”

  She looked at me. “I have interrupted his translation circuits so we may discuss. He will remain quieter if his limbs do not function. Otherwise he might attract attention and be discovered prematurely.”

  “No.”

  “You are taking a—”

  “Do you love me, Maauro?”

  “Yes, Wrik. Have I not said so?”

  “Then you must do it for me this way.”

  A pause. She nodded and turned to the Ribisan. “Go into the storage chamber there. I will place a surveillance device on the door. If I hear you making an attempt to attract attention before 175 hours have passed, I will return to destroy you.” She took the towering Ribisan’s arm with apparent gentleness and the creature meekly followed her in. Maauro returned and sealed the door. There was a brief flare of plasma as she welded the lock.

  We walked away from the area quickly, not willing to risk discovery in the industrial section. When we were out on one of the main slideways we paused, pedestrians of many species trundled by us on the slidewalk. We stood side-by-side in silence for a while, me leaning against the railing. After a little, Maauro imitated my posture.

  “I have offended you again,” she said. “I do this periodically, out of ignorance.”

  “No,” I said. Reaching across, I gently stroked her cheek. It was soft and cool, just like any girl’s. She looked back at me relief in her big gentle eyes. “It’s not that. I don’t know if this makes sense to you, but there are things I don’t want you to have to do anymore. Experiences I don’t want you to have.”

  “Things you don’t want me to be,” she added.

  “True,” I said, putting my arm around her. “I don’t want your soul darkened by some of the ugliness of the universe.”

  “Even if I had a soul, you may be 50,000 years too late for that, dear Wrik.”

  “I wasn’t there then. I’m here now.”

  “It’s like when you ejected Dusko from the ship. You endangered your existence by letting him live, just so I would not have to kill him.”

  “Yes, he was a prisoner, unarmed. That’s an ugly thing to do and I would not have my Maauro do it, not even to save me.”

  “Your Maauro?”

  “I’m sorry, that was presumptuous.”

  “No Wrik, I belong to you more than to anyone or anything. Is that true for you too? Do you belong to me?”

  I hesitated for a moment thinking of Jaelle. “You are my first true friend. You always will be. Even what I have with Jaelle, whatever that ends up being, can never change that. Is that answer enough for you?”

  “Yes, I am not resentful of your life with Jaelle, we occupy different places. I perceive, without always understanding, that these episodes are from concern for me, for who I am becoming. You are someone who has suffered from these kinds of choices. It makes you a good teacher. I think the best one for me.” She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

  I fought a stinging in my eyes and coughed to clear my throat. “Come on, Maauro. The chessboard is moving again. Let’s see what breaks loose.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  We finally found ourselves at the site of the old biogenetics lab. Mysol and Fenster delayed us with a complicated series of legal strategies, claiming that they had to work their way through some defunct, limited partnerships to get me access. Finally they’d cleared the legal underbrush they themselves had probably planted. Maauro and I made our way there, both of us still mulling over our encounters with Croyzer and the fanatical Ribisan priest.

  The complex was large and located in the lower sections of Tir-a-Mar. Most of it has been repurposed to other uses: medical, pharmaceutical or chemical reprocessing. The squat buildings bustled with people, including more than the usual share of ape-like Moroks wandering about.

  Little of the original lab remained, although some of the machinery was still present, sealed and wrapped. A small staff ran a few operations and kept the place in readiness for new users. Frent Rasdall, the caretaker, was the oldest human I’d personally seen. He had bright blue eyes and, for all his years, seemed sharp and active. He took an immediate liking to Maauro and offered to take us about.

  “I do have to warn you,” he said, smiling. “There’s a rather officious snot named Hathaway who runs the operational part of the old lab. I can shepherd you through the shut down sections, but you will have to deal with Hathaway on your own. I am too old for that much bullshit.” He grinned at me and thumped his chest. “Bad for the heart you know.”

  “Don’t worry,” Maauro said brightly, “if he gives you a hard time, I’ll use my influence with the Confed Navy and have him arrested.”

  The old man looked at me. “Is that true son? Does she have that much influence?”

  I couldn’t help but like the old man and smile back. “I’ll have him spaced if she asks.”

  “Hmmm. You may be smarter than most men your age. This is a good one here.”

  I kept the smile on my face but disquiet troubled my heart.

  “Shall we go?” Maauro said.

  Rasdall kept up an amusing patter on the history of the lab, the city and some of the more scandalous doings of some of the inhabitants. We passed through halls of machinery, Rasdall identified them and I knew that Maauro would retain the information. I picked up nothing useful.

  After two hours, Rasdall took us to a corridor that led to a lit office. “Here I abandon you. Hathaway you must tackle on your own. I’d check your laser.”

  “Extra charges on my hip,” I said.

  Rasdall nodded and gave Maauro a bright smile and a wink. Then he shuffled back down the corridor at a good pace.

  We opened the door. Far from a narrow office, it led to an immense open space with several levels of offices around a central square. People were walking briskly through, servicing some machinery and lines of conveyers. The lab floor fronted a glassed in view of the street. Passersby and vehicles could be seen. It was misty outside – another Morok day, at least on this level.

  We walked in and took an escalator down to the main floor. A tall, blonde man with a narrow face stood up from a desk in the middle of the floor as we walked up. He frowned. “I suppose you are the Lieutenant Fels that Rasdall linked me about.”

  The old man, despite his obvious or feigned dislike of Hathaway, had managed to get a warning to his coworker while squiring us around. My respect for the old boy went up. Doubtless Maauro had known about it and just considered it not worth mentioning.

  “That would be me. I’ve reviewed most of the reports on this place. I wanted to s
ee it with my own eyes.

  “Who are you?” Hathaway asked Maauro.

  “I’m assigned as the Lieutenant’s liaison,” Maauro said with the air of someone who’s answered the question too many times.

  His frown deepened. “I wasn’t briefed on any such arrangements.”

  Maauro feigned annoyance. “Look, this isn’t my idea of fun on my off-shift. I’m sorry you didn’t get the word. Check the security system.”

  Hathaway consulted his screen. “Yep, all counter-signed and auth. OK, looks like I need to show you about.”

  “Thanks,” Maauro said.

  “I’d like to see Dr Malich’s old office,” I added

  “The second floor, lab section 14A,” Hathaway said.

  “Thanks we won’t need an escort,” I said

  “Sorry,” Hathaway said with a chilly smile. “Too many delicate and dangerous processes going on.” He turned and called. “Chabrol.”

  A Morok in a business suit stood up.

  “Mr. Chabrol will see you around.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” he said, his red eyes revealing nothing.

  We walked on.

  “Oh, Lostly,” Hathaway called.

  We froze. Maauro walked back to him and they conferred for a minute before she returned to me.

  I looked a question at her as we walked on.

  I felt the link to Maauro open in my mind. “He was relaying that McCaffer wants a report on everything you do as soon as my shift ends.”

  “They continue to buy it.”

  “Yes. They are so persuaded of the strength of their system, it does not enter their minds that someone could be controlling their information. Let us hope it stays that way.”

  We walked down a hallway and up a set of stairs. For all of Mysol’s earlier protestations about the biogenetics lab lack of prospects, the lab seemed immense, well staffed and active. The bustling staff gave us curious looks, but didn’t interfere as we walked to a door labeled 14A.

  “Here we are,” Chabrol said. “The office hasn’t been used since he left.” He tapped a code on the pad and the door opened. We walked in and looked about at a large well-furnished office. Plaques and holo-images decorated the walls. The holo-images were nothing, but the plaques one would have assumed went with the doctor. In fact, there were a number of personal items decorating the office and dotting the desk that surprised me.

  Maauro walked over to the window and gazed down to the street, having recorded the entire room and its contents. I could have talked mind-to-mind with her, but the process was distracting and I figured we could talk about my observations later.

  To my surprise, she turned to me. “Would you excuse me for a few minutes?”

  The Morok looked over at her. “Facilities are on the first floor.”

  “Thanks,” she said and disappeared, walking quickly.

  While Wrik is examining the room, I spot a human watching us from concealment on the street below and magnify her face. It is Diralia Shon. She has aged somewhat from the holo her brother gave us, but is still an attractive blonde female in her early thirties. I glance back at Wrik, who is discussing the lab with the Morok. I do not want to tell him about Shon for fear he cannot control his reaction in front of the Morok.

  I tell Wrik that I am leaving and the Morok assumes it is for a biological need and advises me of the location. This is useful, as I must slip down to the first floor to get outside. With no one to watch me, I speed back to a rear staircase and exit the first floor slipping out of the building and maneuvering to close in on Shon.

  I pretend to eye items in a display case as I slip up on her location. She is behind a bank of machinery and some decorative plants looking up at the window of the office I have just vacated. Wrik is visible through the window. She clearly seems intent on him. I decide to see if she will attempt to cross the street and contact Wrik before initiating contact.

  However, she notices me and straightens from her surreptitious crouch and tries to remove the lines of anxiety and stress from her face. To a lesser observer it might have been successful. I gave her a pleasant nod and noncommittal smile, enough to signify approachability but no interest.

  “Hi,” Diralia says.

  “Hello.”

  “Looks like you’re one of the people showing that Confed officer around. I saw you enter the building together.”

  “I am. Not sure how I got so lucky.”

  “Yeah, I hear that he’s been turning the place upside down.”

  “He’s checking on conditions for Confed citizens on the floating city.”

  She hesitates. “I’ve also heard he’s interested in the bio-genetic experiment lab.”

  “Dr. Malich’s people? Yes, he’s asked about a few of them. They’re all gone from the city.”

  “Not all,” she says, a note of grimness in her tone. “Look, I don’t know you, but it’s vital that I talk to that officer. I can’t do it publically. It would be … it would be dangerous.”

  “There’s no need,” I reply. “You can talk to me.” I modulated my tone to maximize sincerity and calmness.

  “Sorry. I’ve never seen you before.”

  “I am an associate of the officer. We came together. You are Diralia Shon, one of the people we are looking for. Your brother gave us a code word to identify ourselves as friendly to you: Diogenes.”

  “You?” she says in shock, “with him? What are you, sixteen? How did you know my… She stared at me then murmured. “What are you? I’ve never seen such huge eyes even on a human mutant. Your skin is perfect-“she shook her head abruptly. “No, this is a trap. They wouldn’t send a child.” She starts to back up from me.

  I am surprised that the code word did not allay her fears. Perhaps she fears it was extracted under duress from her brother. “I am not what I appear to be. I was sent by the Confederacy.”

  “Listen,” Diralia says, “I don’t know who or what you are, but I need to speak to him.” She jabs a finger in Wrik’s direction, “On a matter that could be life or death.”

  “Impractical just now. There are witnesses in the building.”

  “God,” she says. “This is hopeless.”

  I lean past to touch a railing to the set of stairs leading to the level below from which Diralia must have come. I casually crush and bend the metal with minimal noise.

  Her eyes widen.

  “I am a Confed agent, not a child or even a human, and I am working with the officer.”

  She leans forward to my surprise, taking me by the shoulders to stare into my eyes. I have a vast surplus of time to nullify my combat reflexes to an attempt to touch me and permit it.

  “You’re a machine!” she says, her face is a study in wonder. “I’ve never seen such a life-like simulation.”

  “I am artificial in origin but I am sentient, self-aware and independent.”

  “You’re beautiful,” she says. “I never dreamed something like you existed in robotics; your conversation, your reasoning and interface. Who designed you? I keep current in my field but—”

  “Please keep your voice down. This is not the time to indulge your professional curiosity.”

  “Wait,” she says, her hands dropping off my shoulders. “How would my brother get help like you? Why would the Confederacy send a ship and superbot to look for me?”

  “You brother’s mission to hire me and my associates is a pretext for a Confed mission to determine why the Ribisans wanted Udexco’s help in the first place, and why none of you has returned to normal Confed space. We did take his money though.”

  Diralia sighs. “Telberd always excelled at getting in over his head. Of course who am I to talk? Listen, there is someone here who needs Confed help. I had hoped against hope that someone would come to check on me and help us. I never dreamt of someone like you.

&nb
sp; “There is terrible danger. Can you and the officer meet my contacts at 0130 at the level 34 A, radial 216 W?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I don’t dare stay here any longer.” With a backward look at me, she slips down the nearby stairs. I infiltrate the surveillance systems in the area. I note that someone, Diralia I assume, has affected the visual system enough to keep an access panel to a series of service crawlways out of view. However her efforts are crude and in 3.67 seconds a subroutine will trigger indicating that an alteration has been made. I marvel that she was able to penetrate this area at all, given how little she was able to do. I leisurely cancel the subroutine; modifying her crude hack to be a seamless feedback loop showing no activity at the hatchway. I then track her to cover her back trail. However there is minimal surveillance equipment in the crawlways. I lose her seventy-three seconds into her escape. Her robotics skills might be considerable, but as a spy she has severe limitations.

  I turn back to the building and see Wrik is back on the first floor with Hathaway and the Morok. I will advise him of the contact when we are alone and his reaction can betray nothing. Meanwhile, I am accessing schematics, locating our meeting site and making plans for our undetected egress from the hotel in the early morning hours. The Ribisan systems I encounter are far more powerful than the Confed standard ones and I must devote a great deal of my processing power to infiltrating and rerouting them while doing no visible damage. I may need another visit to the radioactive vault before long if I continue using power at this rate.

  Wrik exits the building with barely civil goodbyes with Hathaway. He spots me and heads over. Hathaway and the Morok however both continue to watch him.

  A signal chirps for my attention. It is the robospider that I left with the Ribisan fundamentalist we locked in the industrial section. Despite Wrik’s warning, he attempted to break through the door. The spider attacked and ripped open his suit. He is in the process of dying. I update the spider’s orders. After the death, it is to remove any trace of Wrik’s DNA and any evidence of my presence. Once that mission is completed, I order it to disappear into the bowels of the station recycling system and disassemble itself, as there is no practical chance of my recovering the unit this time.