Star Carrier (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 3)

by B. V. Larson

  Her sallow face smiled thinly. “He’s a Sparhawk. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you all.”

  The agent shuffled about, uncertain and frowning. I knew he didn’t want to leave her alone with me.

  “Have no fear,” I said to the man. “On my honor, I will not harm this woman.”

  She made another dismissive gesture, and at last the agent retreated.

  “Call if you need us, Lady,” he said.

  “I won’t. This one is true to his word. He’s not like your kind.”

  Slowly, I sat up. I was aching in a dozen locations. I rubbed at my torso, and I found swellings and ridged nano-patches. More patches overlaid my scalp and my cheeks.

  “They really worked you over,” the woman said, watching me.

  “Who are you, Lady?” I asked.

  “My identity doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’ve passed on, beyond the knowledge of the young such as yourself. You matter, however.”

  “Why have I been forcibly brought here?”

  “Tell me, do you recall standing before the Council last year?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You joined your aunt and made an impassioned plea for us to intervene in events. It’s been a long time since anyone has moved the Council to take drastic action.”

  Pulling my probing fingers away from my bruises, I took a good look at her. Unless I was fooling myself, I thought that I recognized her. She’d been present in the gallery of the shadowy council chambers. She was one of those who ruled Earth in secret.

  “I remember you,” I said.

  “Good. It’s a blessing to be remembered. I was once a famous physician, you know. That’s why the Chairman sent me here to make sure you survived.”

  “You’ve done your job well. But now, I’d like to take my leave. I have an appointment.”

  Her hand came up, but not in a threatening manner. “Won’t you please meet with the Chairman? He’s very upset about this. It was all a misunderstanding.”

  “How so?”

  She took in a breath before answering. The sound was like that of a dust broom on flagstones.

  “The agents should have told you who had sent them, who you were being summoned by. They wrongly assumed you could be handled like a child.”

  “I acted in self-defense.”

  “Yes, of course. They were arrogant. Their instructions were to quietly bring you to us—not to die or abuse you in the process. The agents will be punished.”

  I considered asking about the nature of their punishment, but I thought the better of it. Something told me I didn’t want to know the details.

  “A misunderstanding,” I said, “such things seem to happen often in my presence.”

  She shrugged her bony shoulders. “You have to understand, the agents treated you like a Guardsman, not a member of a Great House. The Guard isn’t respected here.”

  “A common mistake. I intend to reeducate people on the subject one at time, if necessary.”

  She made a wheezing sound. After a moment, I realized it must be laughter.

  “What is your name, if I may ask, Lady?”

  “Dr. Peis,” she said, “Ariel Peis.”

  “Thank you for telling me. It seems to be a big deal to your group to be identified.”

  She stared at me for a moment. “You’ve never heard of me, have you?” she asked. There was a wistful tone in her voice. “Outside of this place?”

  I frowned and thought about it. “No,” I admitted, shaking my head. “I don’t think I have.”

  She nodded and looked away. “It’s only to be expected. My achievements were forgotten long ago.”

  She left me then, and I stood and stretched painfully. I found my clothes and put them on. None of my weapons or my personal shielding device was to be found. That didn’t surprise me.

  Dr. Peis did leave me with lingering doubts, however. She’d thought I might know of her—of the achievements from her youth. Was she really someone famous? I had no clue. It must be painful to live so long you’re forgotten by the public.

  When I tried the door, I found it was locked. The doctor had allowed it to snick shut behind her.

  I considered yelling and banging, but I thought it would do little good and might even prejudice my captors against me.

  At last, another visitor came to see me. No less than six agents with feral faces accompanied him. They watched me the way guard dogs watched visitors they were unfamiliar with.

  The visitor was the Chairman. He beckoned for me to follow him.

  I exited the cell gratefully. I found the passageway outside to be just as gloomy, however. Shadows seemed to hang everywhere as if two thirds of the lighting had been switched off.

  “You might recall that we like it dark down here,” he said. “It’s due to our longevity. Our eyes and minds can’t take the daylight easily anymore. We started extreme biochemical processes so long ago… they’ve had certain dire effects.”

  “Yes, my aunt told me about them. Speaking of her… have you seen Lady Grantholm lately?”

  He glanced at me with black, calculating eyes. I was deliberately name-dropping to raise my status in this place. We both knew it, but he didn’t seem impressed. At least he didn’t take offense.

  “Yes, of course. She comes here now and again to ask for favors and make reports. William, we must talk seriously.”

  “Excellent. First, I’d like to discuss your role in today’s criminal activity.”

  He stopped walking and stared up at me. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m a Guardsman, sir. I’m always serious when a crime is involved.”

  He laughed and started walking again. He shook his head. “Your aunt said you were a firebrand. An unbending force of upright duty.”

  “Be that as it may, your agents illegally detained and abused a uniformed starship captain.”

  “The results were regrettable for everyone. You must understand that I wanted to talk to you urgently.”

  “Then why didn’t you simply contact me and tell me I should meet with you?”

  “That isn’t how we operate, Sparhawk. Officially, we don’t exist.”

  I thought about his explanation, and I found that nothing about it pleased me.

  “This entire situation is unacceptable. In the future, please send a courier or something. I would have happily come here to talk to you.”

  “That’s what I did!” he protested. “Yes, I agree, they were heavy-handed, but you were as well.”

  “They didn’t identify themselves. How was I to know that you were behind it? Many assassins have attempted such moves in the past.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “I may have miscalculated in that regard. Very well, in the future when my agents come to summon you into my presence, we’ll make sure that you are more clearly informed.”

  Despite my best efforts, I was close to becoming irate. This sort of behavior wasn’t an isolated occurrence. Members of the Great Houses treated government officials with similar disdain. They believed they were above the law, and the annoying part was how often they were correct in that assumption. Their behavior was never punished as it should be.

  “You said it was regrettable,” I pressed, “but you didn’t apologize. A man in my employ and another in yours are dead over this, and a third man was maimed.”

  He generated a dismissive snort. “Don’t worry so much about trifling details. You have to keep your eyes on the big picture. Don’t you even want to know why I summoned you?”

  “Please tell me,” I said tightly.

  “We ordered Halsey to leave you behind. We wanted you here, in defense of Earth. He argued against it, but the Council thought it was for the best. Does that make you feel any better?”

  My eyes narrowed as I took in this information. “I guess it is flattering… in a way. Why would you request something so specific?”

  “Because we trust you—more than we trust Halsey or that odd duck Vogel, certainly.”

  I coul
d well understand that, but I had trouble putting the rest of their motivations together.

  “You wanted me and my ship to remain here, standing guard over Earth?”

  “Exactly. What if another ship shows up from the Stroj? We’re building another task force, naturally, but it might not be finished before they appear.”

  Nodding, I was beginning to see. “This trust is due to the fact that I was critical in stopping their previous assaults.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Star Guard is as full of cobwebs as my Council. They aren’t used to thinking on their feet, to taking difficult, drastic action. If it were left to them, this planet might well be slag by now. You’re not like the rest of them. You take action reflexively.”

  “I thank you for your confidence, sir.”

  “You’re welcome. But as to why you’re here… the Council wasn’t unanimous. Before Halsey’s fleet is allowed to leave the Solar System, they voted to bring you here to undergo a thorough examination. The examination had to be a surprise.”

  “What kind of examination? For what purpose?”

  “To see if you were a Stroj or not, of course. Dr. Peis, who you’ve already met, performed the medical analysis personally. You’ll be glad to hear she’s cleared you as one hundred percent human.”

  “That’s gratifying,” I said with barely concealed sarcasm.

  As we spoke, we’d reached the end of a very long, dim-lit passageway. The only route forward was a broad, curving stairway of cut stone. He began climbing these steps, and I walked beside him.

  Looking up, there seemed to be no end to the winding stair. The Chairman was old beyond measure, but his legs carried him upward with a steady, plodding pace.

  Behind us, as silent as ghosts, a team of agents followed. They never seemed to take their suspicious eyes off me.

  “Chairman,” I said as we climbed, “I’m still not clear on how this group is exerting your will over our government. As best as I can understand it, you’re a private citizen of Earth. Correct?”

  He shrugged and looked bemused. “Technically, yes. I suppose that’s true.”

  “You might be the leader of this private entity, this Council of yours, but there’s a government in charge of our planet, an official body of Public Servants.”

  “Ah!” he said. “Now I understand. You’re laboring under a number of misconceptions—that’s through no fault of your own, Sparhawk. I don’t blame you for this rude display. You simply don’t understand the nature of your role in our society.”

  I blinked in confusion. “Would you care to enlighten me then, sir?”

  He appeared to think about it.

  “All right,” he said at last. “But let me warn you, this level of knowledge comes with grave risks.”

  “Are you threatening a naval Captain of Star Guard?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, I do believe that I am. You’d do well to listen to that warning and take it very seriously. We wouldn’t want our best starship captain to be deleted as an unperson. That wouldn’t do at all.”

  “An unperson?” I asked, baffled by the term. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  The oldster leered at me with an odd mixture of amusement and triumph.

  “Exactly, you young fool! An unperson is precisely that—an individual that has been erased from the consciousness of our world.”

  “Are you suggesting a death sentence?”

  “Death? No, no. I’m talking about something far more drastic. Death is a much less devastating penalty. Insignificant for the worst offenders.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  The Chairman nodded and worked his mouth for a moment in thought.

  “Let me put it this way,” he said, sidling another pace closer.

  I resisted an urge to back away. The man was menacing in a manner that belied his size and age. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice my aversion.

  “The words of a dead man,” he said carefully, “are often remembered. Perhaps they are remembered even more clearly than his words were recalled while he lived. Worse, a dead man’s relatives and followers are bound to simmer with resentment.”

  Thinking that over, I could understand what he was saying in theory.

  “Death penalties are tools, certainly,” he continued, as if giving a lecture on the topic. “For some individuals, people who have been deemed mundane irritants by society, it’s a suitable punishment. But I’m talking about a criminal so dangerous, so disruptive, that they must be removed entirely. In such a case, death is insufficient and even archaic.”

  “But what else is there?” I asked.

  “We have another tool to be used under such extreme circumstances. We can transform a citizen into an unperson—a deleted individual who’s been eradicated from existence. Such an entity was once human, of course, but they no longer reside in the minds of the population at large.”

  I wasn’t entirely following the elderly man, but what I was getting from his words sent a cold worm of concern through my guts.

  Could it be that the Council actually had the power to remove a man from existence? How could such an act be accomplished?

  Almost unconsciously, I reached back to the base of my neck. My fingers probed the fleshy bulb of the implant that protruded there.

  Those who guided Earth’s net traffic had the means to project realities into our minds, I knew that much. At one point last year, the Stroj had even hacked into my implant and used it to lure me into a trap.

  We Earthers used our implants as powerful tools. We could communicate at will with anyone on the net. We could do more than talk to others—we could experience them.

  A person who wished to speak with me could appear at my side, detectable only by my senses. When they did so, they seemed as real as the furniture they sat upon. Earthers were accustomed to this technology, and we took it for granted.

  But what if there was another, darker side to it all? What if our minds could be edited, as well as presented with fresh input?

  I blinked and considered these thoughts. All the while, the oldster at my side watched my face with narrowed eyes and a knowing, thin-lipped smile.

  “Yes…” he said. “You are the clever one. You’re beginning to grasp what I’m talking about. A man in your position would do well to understand the true way of things. But that’s not to say you should become an evangelist for new-think. There’s no call for that! Secrets are secrets for good reasons. These thoughts you’re having now—they must stay within your skull. Do you understand me, Captain Sparhawk?”

  “I believe that I do, sir,” I said quietly.

  The Chairman nodded, satisfied. He brushed the back of my hand with his cold, leathery fingers.

  “Good… excellent! I knew you were of the best stock. Nothing radical about you! Our hopes have become dependent upon the rise of gentlemen of fiber such as yourself, you understand. We’re too frail to return to the stars ourselves.”

  “Just so, sir,” I murmured, watching him as one might watch a venomous snake.

  “Now, young William, you may take your leave. Fly your captured ship! Take the role of Earth’s guardian while Halsey shepherds the bulk of our new fleet. Nothing less than the fate of the home world rests upon the shoulders of officers like you. And remember, as far as the Council goes, mum is the word. We don’t exist. You were never here.”

  I nodded stiffly, and he left me then. The House guardians who’d been following us like ghosts guided me out of the echoing mansion.

  Recalling the coldness of the Chairman’s touch and the thoughts he’d left lingering in my mind, I was uncomfortable all the way back to House Sparhawk.

  An unperson. The term kept rattling about in my head. Had I known any of them? Had I forgotten certain individuals, at one moment or another, who’d risen up to denounce the powers that ran Earth?

  I could not recall such a person—but that proved nothing. It didn’t mean they’d never existed. Quite possibly, at some point in my lifetim
e, the Council had gathered and declared a noisy malcontent to be unacceptable. As a result, I couldn’t recall anything about them to this day.

  Such power! To be able to remove an individual from the minds of everyone on my green Earth… the mere concept was unsettling.

  Naturally, I couldn’t know that this had happened, but I strongly suspected that it had. Why else could Earth’s recent past be so dull? In our texts, we’d learned of revolutions and rebellions throughout history. But to my knowledge there’d been no such upheavals for more than a century—not since the days immediately following the Cataclysm.

  The impenetrable secrecy of this shadow-council seemed to be proof of their power over the minds of others. How else had they hidden themselves all this time? How had they been forgotten and yet continued to rule?

  They clearly ran Earth, but that fact was shrouded from the public. The only way conceivable that such a massive deception could be perpetrated was a tool like the one the Chairman spoke of—a wholesale editing of public knowledge.

  Had someone discovered the Council in the past and attempted to reveal them? It seemed highly likely given the number of years and individuals involved.

  And yet, up until the point Aunt Grantholm had introduced me, I’d never heard of the Council. The only conclusion was that such people had become “unpersons” for their actions.

  The worst part was in knowing I’d probably forgotten about such souls. It left me with a feeling of loss and violation.

  I doubted I’d ever recapture my lost memories. If at any point an unperson had left an impression upon me, that impression had been forever erased from my mind. It was indeed as if such a person, such a rebel from the past, had never existed at all.

  The more I turned these disturbing ideas over in my mind, the more alarmed I became with the concept of an “unperson.”

  These chilling thoughts would not leave my mind, as much as I wanted them to.

  -8-

  When I arrived at last at House Sparhawk, it was early morning. I was greeted enthusiastically. Sparhawk Agents were everywhere dressed in forest green. They nodded and gave me wintery smiles before their eyes went back to roving over the landscape, looking for threats.