“Yeah, I remember.”
“Don’t worry about the NKV recording our conversation,” Jasper said. “I’ve tampered with the equipment and with the monitors on duty. Everything you say here is between us.”
Cyrus could have asked Jasper why he’d just attacked him mentally, but the answer was obvious to the man from the slums. It had been a pecking order fight to show who was stronger. Jasper wanted him to know how freaking strong of a telepath he was. Cyrus had a much better inkling now, and he would tread lightly or he would try to kill this monster when the man’s guard was down.
“Do you want to stay a slave?” Jasper was asking.
“Of course not,” Cyrus said.
Jasper grinned. “I did figure you right that day. Kid, you’re a prize in so many ways. It’s too bad you have such a weak talent. Anyway, I can use you just the same.”
“Use me?”
“That’s a bad choice of words,” Jasper said. “We can help each other. Do you agree?”
“Sure.”
“You didn’t have to think about that a long time, did you?”
“Have you ever read Plutarch?”
“Who?” Jasper asked.
“He was a Roman historian who wrote about Spartacus.”
Jasper shook his head.
“Spartacus led a slave revolt against the Romans.”
“Ah,” Jasper said. “I begin to perceive your point. How interesting. The slum dweller has turned into a history reader. I’m sure the NKV have taken note of your reading material, but…”
Jasper turned away. He nodded, to himself, it seemed. Facing Cyrus, he said, “The inhibitor appears impossible to overcome. Well, the best surgeons could remove it, but we’re not going to get that chance. I’ve spoken with a clairvoyant who told me an interesting story. She said there might be a way to remove them, but we have to go far afield indeed to get it done. Are you interested?”
“Yes.”
“It could mean incredible danger to us.”
Cyrus shrugged.
“I’m not talking about petty dangers, but something worse than Level 40.”
“That’s supposed to scare me?”
Jasper glanced both ways before leaning toward him. He whispered, “It could involve aliens.”
“Illegal citizens?” Cyrus asked.
“No. Aliens: intelligent nonhumans.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t completely either,” Jasper said. “She was vague. That’s the nature of clairvoyants. In olden days, people called them ‘seers’ or ‘oracles.’ In any case, a Teleship is about to leave for a very long journey. You and I need to be on it.”
“Are you talking about the voyage to New Eden?” Cyrus asked.
“You’re a weak talent, so don’t get your hopes up. But in several weeks the authorities are going to choose the Specials to shift the Teleship. I plan to be one of the chosen. I might be able to push for you. On this voyage, you can be certain they’re going to ask for volunteers.”
“Why wouldn’t someone go?” Cyrus asked.
“Like I said, there’s possibly real danger to this journey. Apparently, you’ve studied history. Surely, you read about the cyborgs of one hundred years ago.”
Cyrus nodded.
“Would you go on the voyage if you thought you might run into cyborgs?” Jasper asked.
“If it means I can get rid of the inhibitor, yes.”
“Practice your mind shield and sharpen your TK. In several weeks, I’ll know more.”
“Your clairvoyant spoke about aliens,” Cyrus said. “Did she specifically mean cyborgs?”
“That’s a clever question,” Jasper said. “She doesn’t know whether the aliens are cyborgs or something else. Now save your questions for later. The monitors are changing guard and they’ll likely examine the damaged equipment. Remember, you agreed to help me. I’m going to hold you to that. So if you have any second thoughts, tell me now.”
Cyrus had plenty of second thoughts, but he said, “I stand by my word.”
Jasper smirked at him, nodded, and took his leave.
4
Nine days later, Cyrus entered the institute auditorium with twenty-seven other Specials. They put on plays in the auditorium, practiced making speeches here, and watched movies on Tuesday nights. There were three hundred padded seats. Cyrus had always wondered why they’d put in so many.
The twenty-seven Specials sat in the first three rows. In the back were the institute teachers, a few dignitaries, one of them being Jasper, and a dozen NKV agents. They’d come to hear one of the most famous men in the solar system.
Captain Nagasaki was going to tell them about the coming voyage to New Eden. He would lead the expedition to a star system two hundred and thirty light years away, the longest journey yet made by any human.
As the headmaster spoke to them from the podium, getting ready to introduce Captain Nagasaki, Cyrus thought about the voyage.
Several years ago, astronomers on Pluto had made an amazing discovery with the most powerful telescopes yet. Two hundred and thirty light years away was a star system named AS 412. According to the telescopes, it contained not one, but two Earth-like planets. Someone had coined the name “New Eden” for the system, and it stuck.
Premier Lang’s propagandists had gotten busy with the news. Cyrus had heard it said Lang wanted a symbol to unite humanity under his rule. What could be better than a grand adventure to excite the masses?
At New Eden, the propagandists said, mankind could start over in perfect harmony. Even better, anyone could go. People had to pitch in and do their part. If they did, they might win an emigrant ticket, leaving Old Sol to start afresh in New Eden. Teleship Discovery would lead the way and it would set down the first colony. These first colonists would enter stasis tubes, awaking once they reached New Eden. There, humanity would to do things right this time.
From what Cyrus had read, the project had electrified humanity. People from Neptune to Mercury filled out personal data forms, bought emigrant lottery tickets, and argued about the right form of government for this pristine environment. This wouldn’t be habitat living or underground dwelling, but new Earths, humanity-friendly worlds to fill.
“Let us warmly welcome Captain Nagasaki,” the headmaster said.
Cyrus clapped with the others, and he noticed the teachers in back clapping vigorously.
Captain Nagasaki strode onto stage and shook the headmaster’s hand. Nagasaki was short and slender, with silver hair under a trim cap. He wore the blue uniform of the Solar Space Service. A single Orion Star adorned his jacket. He’d won the star for leading the first voyage to Epsilon Eridani over thirty years ago and helping set up the colony base there.
After the Cyborg War, humanity had begun sending sleeper ships to the nearest star systems, beginning the expansion of man. There were outposts at Alpha Centauri, Tau Ceti, and Epsilon Eridani. The colonists lived in habitats circling each system’s planets as they float-mined the gas giants of deuterium. Before shift technology, that meant each colonist had been effectively cut off from the mother system. A visit by a replenishing ship every three to five years was the best any of them could hope for.
Like all interstellar voyages before discontinuity windows and Teleships, Nagasaki had made his famous trip the old-fashioned way, under the terrible constraints of Einsteinian physics. His sleeper ship Argonaut had accelerated at a constant one G the first leg of the journey up to near light speed. Then it coasted until the end of the trip and decelerated.
Epsilon Eridani was ten light years from Sol. Because of relativistic time dilation, the trip had only lasted five years for the captain and his crew. Nagasaki had spent several years at Epsilon Eridani as they’d constructed the colony’s lone habitat. Then he’d returned to Sol to a hero’s welcome, twenty-some years after he’d left but only eleven years older.
Like the other Specials attending today’s meeting, Cyrus had read the man’s bio. Captain Nagasaki
understood about privation, risks, and waiting. The man’s patience and self control was legendary—as was his iron will. It had made him the perfect candidate to lead a decade-long voyage.
From the podium, Captain Nagasaki eyed them. He seemed stern, perhaps a little remote. But what he possessed in abundance was gravity, presence, or personal force. He would lead the journey to New Eden. And it was said his vote had weight in choosing the right Specials.
He greeted them in a deep voice and spoke in a slow and measured manner. He talked about duty, about hardship and danger. Then he talked about Teleship Discovery.
A holoimage appeared on stage behind the captain and Nagasaki spoke about the ship.
In many ways, the Teleship was like an old style battleship from the Cyborg War of over a hundred years ago. Combat ships had used particle shielding then, hundreds of meters of thick rock to withstand enemy lasers or nuclear-tipped missiles. Discovery didn’t have particle shielding, but looked like any meteor drifting in space, except the surface lacked mountains or valleys. The surface was uniform and made of asteroidal rock, with dust where a man could leave his boot prints if he walked upon it. Dotted on the surface were combat domes with collapsium armor. In the domes were laser cannons and missile sites, insuring the Teleship a fighting chance against any comers.
Far below the shielding minerals of the Teleship were gigantic AIs, the fusion engines, and acres of stasis tubes for the sleepers. Over fifty thousand individuals would journey to the New Eden system. Below stasis was the core structure of life support for Discovery’s crew: that would be 107 men and women.
Nagasaki paused, sipping from a glass of water. He put the glass away, eyed them anew, and gripped the sides of the podium.
“Let me explain something of my journey to Epsilon Eridani, as it dovetails into the primary reason for my visit with you today. Over thirty years ago, my sleeper ship Argonaut accelerated out of Sol at one G as it built up to near light speed. We call that ‘NLS.’ Believe me, the acceleration was the easiest part of the journey. The long coast was more tedious, the many years of weightlessness.”
Cyrus noticed the captain’s fingers tightening their grip on the podium. Nagasaki’s face had looked stern before. Now it appeared like flint.
“The long journey proved tedious, as I’ve said, but that was nothing compared to our growing fear of cyborgs. You have seen vids of them, horror shows. I happen to know more than most concerning cyborgs because I am the great-great grandson of Circe of Old Jupiter. You’ve certainly read the histories of that time. Circe destroyed the cyborgs’ proto-Teleship at the end of the Cyborg War.”
Nagasaki released the podium. “I’m not here to talk about the war, but its aftermath. The terrible truth of the Cyborg War that few people realize is that some cyborgs must have escaped the solar system. Circe destroyed a proto-Teleship, but there might have been a second and a third. We don’t know that, but it would be folly to believe it impossible. Even if the cyborgs lacked Teleships, surely some of them fled in NLS vessels.
“My crew and I in Argonaut didn’t know about proto-Teleships during our trip to Epsilon Eridani, but we became convinced that some cyborgs had survived the war. If that was true, we argued among ourselves, perhaps they had headed for the nearest star systems and begun to rebuild.
“I admit that the months of deceleration into Epsilon Eridani were the worst of my life. As we slowed, I launched five probes ahead of us. They found no sign of cyborgs. Even so, once Argonaut reached the system, we inched from place to place, searching, watching, and waiting for the terrible surprise that would inform us cyborgs attacked the ship.”
Nagasaki smiled. It looked strange on his remote face. “The wonder of the trip was that no cyborgs appeared. Yet I’ve asked myself many times since returning to Sol and finding these marvelous Teleships. What if the cyborgs had built a second proto-Teleship a hundred years ago? If they had, they might have escaped far from Sol, to rebuild in the stars, forging an invincible empire of machine-man melds.
“That brings me to a grim topic. I want each of you to consider this carefully. First, it is within the realm of the possible that cyborgs await us at AS 412. That is why Discovery goes armed.
“Now, some of you surely are saying to yourself, the astronomers on Pluto didn’t find any evidence of advanced civilization. No. They wouldn’t have because it is impossible. If the cyborgs fled Sol a hundred years ago and reached AS 412 in a Teleship soon thereafter, how could we know? The astronomers used telescopes to search AS 412. Obviously, they saw images two hundred and thirty years old, because that’s how long light from there took to reach the solar system. We can’t launch probes to look for us, because probes only travel at NLS and would take over two hundred and thirty years to arrive. At best, the probes could beam a message back at light speed, adding another two hundred and thirty years. Therefore, to find out now—in the present—if cyborgs have used AS 412, we have to go in a Teleship and see for ourselves.
“The chances are good the cyborgs never went there—if indeed they even built another proto-Teleship. But they could be there, and that’s important to consider. Cyborgs take humans and strip them of humanity to create machine-man melds. It is a terrible fate. We go there for two reasons, the first greater than the second. The first reason is to colonize two beautiful worlds. The second reason is to see if mankind’s grimmest foe has indeed survived and rebuilt a technological base there.
“This will be the voyage of a lifetime, and it could prove to be the battle of a lifetime, too. Naturally, few consider the prospect of meeting cyborgs in what appears a pristine system. I urge you to agree to join this voyage only if you’re willing to face the possibility of cyborgs. We need stout hearts and powerful Specials on this trip, and we will carry a most precious cargo: fifty thousand of Sol’s bravest people.”
Captain Nagasaki scanned the crowd. “Now, your headmaster was kind enough to say this was a privilege for him and his students to hear me speak in person. It is very much a privilege for me to be here. I would like to field any questions you might have.”
Hands rose immediately, and Specials began to question the great captain. Cyrus was content to listen.
He found it interesting that Nagasaki had listed only two possibilities upon reaching New Eden: one, that they would find a pristine star system with two untouched, Earth-like planets and two, they would find cyborgs. There was a third possibility: that they might meet aliens other than cyborgs. Jasper said these aliens might help rid them of the inhibitors. Would it be traitorous to humanity for he and Jasper to seek alien help like that?
What would Spartacus have done? Would the former gladiator have accepted alien help against the Roman legions? Cyrus nodded. Of course Spartacus would have accepted help.
There was a gnawing doubt, though. Cyrus had learned the hard way that nothing came free. There was always a cost—always. If aliens existed in New Eden who could help them get rid of the inhibitors, what would the aliens demand as payment?
It was a question worth some serious consideration.
5
FENRIS SYSTEM
(230 LIGHT YEARS FROM EARTH)
The boy Klane had turned into a brooding young man of the Tash-Toi. He had looked upon the Mountain that was a Machine one other time. He had been in the company of the seeker then too.
Klane wasn’t like others of the clan. He was curious about nearly everything. Why couldn’t they fashion iron knives for themselves? The hetman had one and so did the champion Cletus. Those knives were heirlooms, long ago stolen from demons. If demons made them, why couldn’t a flint smith? Why did the gat travel north for the winter and how exactly did its wings allow it to fly in the air?
The young men Klane’s age spoke about stalking game animals, women, and raiding other clans. Otherwise, they were a dour lot unless drunk. While drunk, any warrior could be dangerously foul or very merry. There was no telling which, although Klane constantly sought for a clue.
The yo
ung men Klane’s age were similar to each other. They were brown-skinned, dark-haired and uniformly thick with muscles. They carried flint knives, bone-tipped spears, and wore the cured skin or leather of the vargr. Each could run many miles without panting or gasping. Their lungs had no trouble breathing the upland desert air. Nor did they bleed easily when cut by sharp rocks.
Klane had pasty white skin and was nearly as thin as the seeker. He gasped if he ran too hard and his lungs lacked staying power. Worse, the cold air forced him to bundle up like a pregnant woman. Otherwise, his teeth chattered until his jaws and teeth ached.
It made him sick with grief being so weak. In his younger years, he had fought and wrestled with the others his age. He’d even won a few matches by clouting a stronger boy with a rock or using a cunning trick taught him by the seeker.
None of the warriors included him in the wrestling matches these days. In the matches, the warriors decided who would eat the choice meat or gain the charm of a viable female. The hetman had forbidden Klane from carrying a spear or shield. He was allowed a flint knife, but only to help him fashion bark lanterns or eat his portion of food.
There were only two other choices now for Klane, since the warriors had excluded him from their company. He could leave as an outcast, game for the hunters. Or he could become the seeker’s journeyman.
After a year of attempting to fashion a junction-stone, polishing, oiling, and empowering it, he’d failed to make any stone work. It meant he could never be a seeker. Without junction-stones…
“I am a failure,” he told the seeker.
The old man sat cross-legged before his hide tent. The winds howled across the upper plateau, blowing bits of red sand. In the distance, a gat soared in the air. The seeker wore vargr leather and seemed unaffected by the cold. The moon was high in the sky today, filling half of it with its bright, banded colors.
Klane crouched before the seeker. He was wrapped in thick furs and wore a woolen hat like a woman. He would have preferred to sit near a fire, but the warriors would have howled in laughter at him because of his garments and he could not bear it.
Alien Honor (A Fenris Novel) Page 4