The Machine's Child (Company)

by Kage Baker

  “Something,” Nicholas murmured into her ear. Coxinga slid their plates into place before them. The Captain unobtrusively placed two virtual settings for Alec and Edward, who went right on arguing.

  It’s still wrong. And probably impossible. If the Company’s got some silver tube full of Me sitting around somewhere, you can bet it’s under lock and key with the key thrown away. Going to get it might be the most dangerous move we could make.

  Son! Yer forgetting the lead I got on that bastard now. I know everything he knows, and considerable stuff he don’t! I’ve already planted a few viruses in the past, what’ll blow up in his face at inconvenient times in the future. Once we got the secret of time transcendence, it was all up with Dr. Zeus. It’s only a matter of time. Haaar! Matter of Time, get it?

  Oh, shut up.

  What a clever response, Alec. Captain, he’s scored you with that rapier wit of his again. Whatever shall you do for a riposte? My compliments on this sole, by the way. It’s superb.

  Thank you, Commander sir, and may I say what a pleasure it is to take trouble for someone as appreciates my efforts?

  “Peixe. This is real,” Mendoza said thoughtfully. Nicholas fed her another mouthful. “I like fish real.”

  “Good.” Nicholas kissed breading crumbs from her lips.

  But . . . it could take years. And how do you know you could do it?

  Bloody hell, lad, I done it already! I even made some improvements on the design. You don’t want to know how little I had to work with when I rebuilt yer lady there, but augmenting you would be a snap by comparison. Yer halfway immortal as it is. You already been cyborged. Yer brain was designed to have an Augmentation Support Package fitted into it, for Christ’s sake. You can say what you like about Foxen Ellsworth-Howard, but the lubber knew his job.

  And I imagine you can concoct the appropriate elixir of life, can’t you, Captain? You stole the formula, after all. Pineal Tribrantine Three, that was the stuff. To say nothing of the little thingummies we found so amusing . . . ?

  I believe the word yer looking for is nanobots, sir.

  Nanobots, to be sure.

  Look, I really, really don’t want to think about this right now.

  “Grapes,” said Mendoza, eyeing the fruit bowl. “Guavas. Bananas. Nectarine. Pineapple. Family Bromeliaceae. Ananas comosus. Lots of work.”

  “Yes,” Nicholas said, lifting a spoonful of fish to his mouth. He had never taken to forks. “But only what you will, love. You are free now.”

  “To work and play.” Mendoza smiled brightly and reached over to give him an affectionate pat on the groin. “I’m your wife,” she affirmed.

  “Yes,” he said, and put down his spoon. Her hand explored further. He made a desperate sound.

  “Is all right?” she asked, looking up at him in concern. Biting his lip, he nodded.

  Poor Alec. I can see you’re still in the grip of Company persuasion. They gave you a death wish, and you can’t master it; how sad. I, on the other hand, have moved beyond all that. Edward made an elegant gesture of dismissal.

  Oh yeah?

  Yes. If only you had the power to envision it, Alec! Eternal summer and eternal youth in which to enjoy eternal love. You might wander with our lady, hand in hand, down any empty beach in any age of the world, like two innocents in Paradise! And what harm could you do anyone, then? When we worked our evil, you and I, we did so out of grim resolution and duty. We believed we must sacrifice our own happiness to improve the lot of mankind. Edward shook his head sadly. He looked into Alec’s eyes and his voice was smooth, suave, infinitely persuasive.

  If we’d followed our hearts and run away with the girl, all this misery might have been avoided. Ah, but now we have the chance! Break the pattern of your own death, as she so hoped you would. Think what she suffered for your sake!

  “ ‘Quae est ista quae progreditur quasi aurora consurgens,’ ” Nicholas quoted, breathing heavily. “ ‘Pulchra ut luna, electa ut sol, terribilis ut acies ordinata?’ ”

  “Oh!” Mendoza’s eyes widened. “We used to be . . . you used to . . .”

  You know, Alec, lad, I don’t think I could add a word to what our Edward’s just said. Beautiful way you have of expressing yerself, Commander Bell-Fairfax, sir, if I may pay you the compliment. And yet it couldn’t be plainer put.

  Thank you. I thought so.

  LEAVE ME ALONE! Alec had tears in his eyes. I killed three thousand people on Mars, man! What the shrack am I supposed to do now? Live happily ever after?

  You ain’t going to do nobody no good by dying, son.

  Trust me, Alec; there are better ways to atone for your crimes than throwing your life away, said Edward. I know from painful experience.

  Go to Hell.

  Edward shrugged. He drained his virtual glass of sauterne and smiled across at Mendoza and Nicholas, who were kissing tenderly. Well, someone’s seduction is working, at least. He took up the cigar that the Captain materialized at his elbow, rolled it judiciously beside his ear, and lit it. Waving the match out, he lounged back in the booth. Look at the poor little thing, opening like a rose after an aeon of horror and living death. She believes you’re an immortal, Alec. If you tell her otherwise, you condemn her to the vault of nightmares again. You won’t do such a dreadful thing; therefore you must, and will, become an immortal. He blew a virtual smoke ring at Alec. Quod erat demonstrandum.

  Alec glowered at him. Edward settled back to watch Nicholas and Mendoza with an appreciative eye.

  THE NEXT MORNING

  Two bells, forenoon watch! And a bright brisk good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Checkerfield, the Captain boomed over the ship’s speakers.

  Mendoza sat bolt upright, wild-eyed. Alec flailed his way into a sitting position beside her, as did Nicholas and Edward.

  “Perigo—” gasped Mendoza. Alec swept her into his arms and she huddled there, shaking.

  “It’s all right! It’s just the Captain,” Alec said, scowling up at the camera. “He’s just the—er—computer navigation system.”

  To be sure I am, Mrs. Checkerfield, and I hope you’ll accept an old seaman’s sincere apology. Captain Sir Henry Morgan at yer service, aye. I don’t reckon you’ll remember me, but I’m by way of being the ship’s doctor, too. Looked after you in yer recent time of sickness.

  Mendoza did not release her grip on Alec. She looked up at him questioningly; he nodded.

  “Thank you very much, Sir Henry,” she said.

  Bless yer little heart! I thought you might want breakfast in bed this morning, Alec lad, so here comes old Coxinga with a nice tray. Coffee and toast, oatmeal, orange juice, and oyster savory. Sorry there ain’t no fresh strawberries, Mrs. Checkerfield, but the botany cabin went right to Hell whilst you was sick.

  Edward laughed and applauded silently.

  “Strawberries?” Mendoza’s eyes widened, focused intensely. “Fragaria moschata. Yes. But . . .” She looked perplexed. “How did we grow them on a ship? We would have to have hydroponic trays.”

  Why, er, so we did, dearie.

  Alec gave the camera a warning look. “Of course, the botany cabin’s all been dismantled for a little while,” he said. “But we’ll fix it up again, so you can grow things.”

  Oh, that’s already begun, lad—Cargo Bay Number Three, remember? Flint and Bully Hayes is down there right now, moving out all them old crates so’s they can remodel.

  “And—how—” Mendoza’s brow furrowed. “If we travel in this ship—and we escape through time—then—when we go forward—why don’t the strawberries stay in the past? Because you can’t—”

  There was a dead silence. Alec felt sweat prickling the back of his neck. Edward opened his mouth to speak and then halted, frowning. Only Nicholas, fairly ignorant of advanced temporal physics, looked placid as he sprinkled salt on his virtual oatmeal.

  Why, er, we just fiddles with the time so the little bastards is part of the ship’s own temporal continuum, remember? the Captain babbled.

&
nbsp; “Oh.” Mendoza’s face cleared.

  Don’t let yer breakfast get cold. I’ll be off to me duties now, sir, unless there’ll be anything further.

  “No, thank you,” Edward said, taking control and lifting the loaded tray on to the bed. “Though we have a few things to discuss later, I think.”

  To be sure. Enjoy yer breakfast, Mrs. Checkerfield.

  Edward unfolded a napkin and arranged it carefully across Mendoza’s lap; he spooned blackberry jam on a toast triangle and presented it to her. “My dear? I only wish we had champagne, but I’m afraid our cellar’s not at its best at the moment. I think we’ll just make a call at some civilized time and stock up properly soon. Lay in some decent clarets, eh? And some of that Mexican spirit of which you were so fond.”

  “I was?” Mendoza stared at all the food.

  “Indeed you were,” Edward said, guiding her hand that held the toast to her mouth. “Eat. There’s a good girl. Mustn’t go hungry; we’ve so many plans to make for our future.”

  “We have?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Edward. “Charming as I find the sight of you wandering the decks in your present state of innocence, we really must arrange to get you some clothing. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Mendoza said doubtfully, nibbling the toast.

  “And then, I think, we’ll begin our more serious business.” Edward helped himself to the oyster savory.

  “What’s our more serious business?” Mendoza said.

  “Why, we have a quest to undertake, my dear. Dr. Zeus has something that belongs to me, and I intend to take it back,” Edward said.

  Mendoza stopped nibbling.

  “But—” she said. “That’s dangerous—” She went pale, began to sweat.

  Stop it! Stop it right now, said Alec, and grabbed control. He swallowed a mouthful of oyster and said hastily, “But we don’t have to, if it scares you. Don’t be afraid.”

  I’d be careful about lying any more than we already have, Edward said coolly. Alec ignored him and put a comforting arm around Mendoza. “Don’t worry. Let’s think about the fun we’ll have now that you’re better, yeah?”

  “Okay,” she said, looking up at him in puzzlement.

  “We can go to Jamaica—it’s really nice there, lots of sun and people are friendly, and there’s beaches and, and botanical gardens! You’d like those.” Alec gulped for breath. “And we’ll go to Spain, too. We’ll go anywhere you want.” He leaned past her to pour a glass of orange juice from the carafe.

  “What’s this?” he heard her say, and he felt her fingertips press into the spiral design across his shoulder blades, the subcutaneous porting that linked him to the Captain. “Did you always have this—?” She followed its tracery up to the torque around his neck, made contact through the porting, began to download. She gave a little scream and fell back. He lurched around and saw her cowering against the headboard of the bed.

  “I saw—!”

  “Ssh! No, no, it’s all right. You know what you saw?” He scrambled up to crouch beside her, stroking her hair, looking into her eyes. “You know all that is? We’re cyborgs. Do you remember that, baby? We’re linked with this tremendous database. You and me. Only, you went offline when you were sick. And . . . you’re not all better yet. Too much data for you to handle, yeah?”

  “I just touched it and then—in my head—” she said, gasping.

  “I know.” He gathered her into his arms. “Things you don’t want to remember. You don’t have to remember ’em, baby, I’ll do that for you. Don’t worry.” He kissed her and then looked seriously into her eyes. “But until you’re all recovered . . . you shouldn’t try to download from me. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Mendoza promised, shivering. “Will I have to have one of those put in?”

  “No! You’re, er, a different model from me, see?” Alec improvised. “Pretty little lady cyborg, with everything inside, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said, biting her lip in an effort to stop trembling. She made herself look at his twisted collar. “Did it—did it hurt, when they did it to you?”

  “No,” said Alec.

  “When they did it to me—” she began, and faltered, and looked away.

  She wears her chains still, and how may we set her free? groaned Nicholas.

  Oh, don’t be absurd, said Edward.

  She just needs time, Alec said. She’ll get better. And Time’s what we’ve got, right?

  Out loud he said:

  “Come on, let’s finish this breakfast. Oysters are an aphrodisiac, you know!”

  She gave a shaky giggle.

  When they eventually got out of bed, Alec decided it was time to travel.

  “Captain sir, set us a course. I want to go to California.”

  What time, lad?

  “Long enough ago so there’s no people.” He smiled at Mendoza, who was struggling to keep up a pair of his trousers, much too large on her. He went to his wardrobe to fetch her out a belt. “Just us. We’ll go up to the Ventana for a picnic, huh, baby, what do you say? Go exploring?”

  “The Ventana?” She looked up sharply as he threaded the belt through the loops for her. Something blazed in her eyes. “The cliffs and the big trees? I remember those. But—I can’t go there anymore.”

  “Yes, you can. You’re going wherever you bloody well want, yeah?” Alec fastened the belt for her and stepped back, frowning thoughtfully at the pants, which still hung ridiculously low. He went to a drawer for a Swiss utility knife and set about punching an adjustment in the belt. “Nobody’s going to close any garden of Eden to us.”

  “You’ll smash the lock,” she said in an absent little voice, and cinched up the belt as far as it would go and bent over to roll up the cuffs. Edward leered.

  Dear, dear, what a pretty cabin boy she makes! Perhaps we won’t be in such a great hurry to find gowns for her, after all.

  Sodomite, snarled Nicholas.

  Never once in all my years in the Royal Navy, Edward retorted, grabbing control and pulling her close for a kiss. “Come along, my love, I’ve just thought of a variation on time travel.”

  He led her into the saloon, where they were greeted by Billy Bones unobtrusively offering a tray with a small drink of something iodine-colored on it.

  Here’s yer, uh, vitamin supplement, lad. Mind you gulp it down.

  “Thank you.” Edward quaffed it with scarcely a grimace. “Have you laid in a course, Captain?”

  Aye, sir! Latitude 355919N, Temporal Alignment 150,000 BCE!

  “Splendid.” Edward flung aside the glass and pulled Mendoza close again, gazing down into her eyes. “My love, do you trust me?”

  “Yes, señor,” she said, laughing as he bent her backward for a deep kiss.

  “Weigh anchor, Captain,” Edward said as he came up for air.

  Aye aye, sir!

  Edward caught Mendoza by the hand and ran for the storm harness. Alec and Nicholas followed, staring in disbelief as Edward shed Alec’s shirt and trousers and assisted Mendoza in peeling off the clothing she had just put on with such effort. He fastened himself into the storm harness faster than an able-bodied seaman might heave short, loose sails, set topsails, and square the afteryards. It made him somehow more brazenly naked as he grinned and held out his arms to her.

  Do it in the storm harness? Are you crazy? Alec stared, aghast. Nicholas looked from one to the other, unsure of what was going on.

  Whilst time-traveling, no less, Edward replied, as Mendoza came to him. “Handsomely, now, my darling, lay out along the yard,” he said, lifting her onto his lap, and she was laughing, seemed delighted, so Alec and Nicholas looked at each other and shrugged. They moved in close as her arms went around Edward’s shoulders.

  “Ready! Helm hard over! ABOUT!” Edward shouted, and kissed her as yellow clouds of stasis gas filled the saloon.

  They traveled.

  It was, put simply, the most astonishing experience any couple (or foursome; for as the three men e
xperienced pain together, so they seemed to experience pleasure simultaneously) could hope to survive. Blue fire welded their straining bodies together. There was one hallucinatory second when they heard a roar of music through the flames, something neither Nicholas nor Alec knew but Edward recognized vaguely: something by Beethoven? But he hadn’t spent enough of his life in concert halls to be sure, and in any case he was too busy to give a damn.

  ONE MORNING IN 150,000 BCE

  When it stopped at last, Nicholas and Alec were lying in a state of collapse on either side of Edward. Mendoza clung to him, gasping. They were drenched with sweat. There was sunlight flooding in, and the sound of the sea, and a vast creaking as the storm bottle retracted and the masts deployed. The anchor rattled away and dropped with a splash.

  Edward opened his eyes and looked down at her.

  “There now,” he said, only a little unsteadily. “Wasn’t that amusing, my dear?”

  “Yes,” she moaned. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “We never did that before. I’d remember that.”

  “What’s immortal life without a little variety now and then?” he said. He glanced out the porthole and saw cliffs rising sheer from an emerald sea, up out of sight. “And I believe we’ve reached our destination! Are we lying off Cape San Martin, Captain?”

  Aye, sir, the Captain told him, with perhaps just a shade of uneasiness in his voice.

  “I thought so. California, my love. Will you walk ashore?”

  “Sleep first!” she pleaded, her head falling on his shoulder.

  “Anything to oblige a lady,” he said smugly, and unfastened the harness. Getting his hands under her he lurched to his feet, and after a tottery moment strode in triumph to Alec’s stateroom, with Alec and Nicholas staggering after him, panting for breath.

  They sank down on the coverlet and Mendoza was asleep almost at once. Edward found he wanted a cigar very much, and as the only place he could get one was in cyberspace he relinquished control to Nicholas, Alec having already passed out. Nicholas was too exhausted to do more than peer balefully at Edward as he took Mendoza in his arms, and then he too sank into unconsciousness.