Shards: Book One

by Peter Prellwitz

  “He's a brave man. A jerk, but a brave one. Still, I don't think he'd be able to make it as a Cue."

  “I don't think I would either. I don't know. At my age, a second time around sounds tempting, regardless of the conditions. One thing I'll tell you; I personally think that it's for the better that John's a girl now."

  “What?” Susie looked up sharply at her friend. “How can you say that?"

  “Think about it. What better way to adjust to the unknown than to go at it all the way? That's why we induce while the Cue is standing. Going from your feet to your back with no memory in-between demands attention to change."

  “Which better prepares the mind for the more difficult changes. I know. But there's a big difference between waking up in a different position than waking up in a different gender."

  “No! I say there is no difference. What's the oldest Cue we've revived? Three hundred and fifty years? Four hundred? A big jump, yes. But much of our society was already in place even then. Planetary emigration, worldwide national and political unification, even the puterverse. But she's from before all that. By close to three centuries. Maybe having to deal first with personal identity at the deepest level is helping to prepare her for the culture shock awaiting her outside the base."

  “But look at what NATech, her NATech I mean, was already working on. Her last project was a model for an underwater society that remained fully integrated with the surface society. In other words, she created the Pisces. That society, that people, was something that has never been recreated since the Rock destroyed Pisces in 2374. Hundar Knowler was the last of his race, and he died in 2415.” Susie shook her head in admiration. “I'm not sure she'll need that much help in adjusting to our society."

  “In which case I'd take the stance that it would be a disappointment to her. Everything we discovered about her showed she was a ... well, a man ... who was always up to any challenge, always eager for any challenge. Such a person might not enjoy a voyage like this if the destination was not much different than the beginning. This unintentional challenge may add more spice.” Betty chuckled. “Sugar and spice, that is. That's why I spoke up for her at the briefing today.

  “But the main reason why I think all this is good for him, is you, Susie. I can think of no one better suited to helping out this vibrant, badly misplaced soul. And if you had guessed right, and we had integrated him back as a him, then he wouldn't have the privilege of having you as her counselor. And that, I think, is going to be the biggest reason she makes it."

  “If she doesn't shard.” Betty said nothing, and Susie was immediately sorry. “That's not fair, Betty,” she said contritely. “You go out of your way to compliment me, and I cut you down. I'm sorry."

  Betty reached out a hand and touched her sleeve. “That's all right. I know it's been difficult for you the last six months. Nobody except you ever thought permission would be given for this rescue. And then when it was, we lose three people on the bio-raid. And then we—not just you—guess wrong as to her identity. And now this mystery. Is she friend or foe? If she's a friend, she'll need a friend. Many friends. And if she's a foe ... well, I hope she's a friend."

  They spent some more quiet time together, talking in low tones, enjoying each other's company before Betty went in to bed. Susie remained outside a while longer, enjoying the crisp night air and pinpoint starlight. The cold seemed to bring everything closer, and deaden the sound. She stared into the valley below.

  And waited

  Finally, she roused herself, knowing she must get to her quarters soon. The girl was supposed to sleep through the night, but could possibly waken before then. Either way, Susie was going to be there. She pushed herself away from the rock face she had been leaning against and stretched. Leaning back, her eyes again caught sight of the Big Dipper, now resting on the tree tops. Unable to stop herself, nor wanting to, she traced the imaginary line from the lip to Polaris, and heard again the story as told by her father. She used to imagine herself back in that terrible time, escaping with her family, following the riverbank, heading ever northward to freedom. Maybe now she was the star of freedom for the many ripes, looking for their liberty. If so, she hoped she could remain as faithful as that pinpoint of light. She shook her head, wondering at her musings, and went back inside.

  The girl was still motionless on her bed, as she had been for over two days now. Susie set down the tub of warm water she had with her and tenderly sponged clean the limp, sleeping child, and changed her bedclothes. She had done this twice a day, between interview sessions, hoping the special attention would somehow reach the girl even in her stupor and let her know she was cared for. She had given no reaction then, nor did she now. Susie gently brushed out the soft, brown hair, taking care not to tug too hard. Again there was no movement from her. Pulling the covers up to the girl's chest, she left her and prepared for bed herself.

  She had the showers to herself, and took her time. As the hot, steaming water poured over and soaked through her, she heard the quiet footsteps and quiet conversation of Company A personnel as they went down the corridor. Although the hour was late, she remembered seeing significant activity in the hanger when she came in. Undoubtedly another enforcement raid. If it was a bio-raid, she'd have known about it. She wondered what the target was and silently prayed for her comrades’ safety. By the time she had finished her hair and had stepped out into the corridor wearing her robe, it was again empty, dark and silent. She returned to her quarters.

  The girl was still sleeping. Preferring the darkness, she dimmed the lights further and disrobed. Clad now only in panties and a loose top, she sat on her bed, drawing her legs up under her, and watched her sleeping charge. This was the worst time, after the IHAD but before the waking. Before the IHAD, there is always the concern of a plant, and fear tempers the still new relationship between the Cue and her counselor. Then, during the IHAD, the relationship was that of extremes: invalid and caretaker between sessions, then prisoner and executioner during. And it could hardly be called a relationship; the Cue was oblivious to everything.

  But now the IHAD was over, and her new Cue was alive, and going to remain that way. It was time to begin the real work of cultural assimilation. But not until this eternal waiting was over. And not until the realization of their invasion was worked through. To occupy herself, Susie thought back to the afternoon's briefing. As she did, Susie sat quietly, watching the slow rise and fall of the girl's chest.

  And waited.

  * * * *

  “We cannot continue with this IHAD!” Betty was angry and loud. She stared in defiance at the small group that had gathered at a table in the rec area. The entire gym and half the hanger was cleared of personnel so that the briefing would be private. Private Marks, a large, quiet man from Company A, was posted at the nearer corridor entrance to ensure they were neither disturbed nor overheard. “We've never conducted one for more than eight hours, but this one's been going for forty-eight! I fear for her safety, her sanity, and her ability to recover."

  She received no response. Susie wanted to jump up and shout her agreement. But as the girl's counselor, she was forbidden to speak unless it was to give her decision as to the girl's continuation. A decision she wasn't ready to give yet. Lieutenant Sanchez stirred and broke the silence.

  “Are you saying you want Susie to decide now? Do you have all the information you can get?"

  “I don't think we'll ever get all the information, sir,” responded Private Williams, the other interviewer. “Performing an IHAD is a tricky business, as you know. But with her it seems even more difficult. She responds only to direct questions, and then only with direct answers. And she never expands on what she says. I almost wonder if...” he frowned slightly. “No, that can't be."

  “What can't be, Private?” Sanchez asked.

  “Well, I know it's not possible, but it's as though she can somehow resist our probing. She—"

  “You're right, it's not possible,” Dr. Barrett interrupted. “I don
't hold with these infernal interviews. No better than riping, in my opinion. But I know only too well how they work and their brutal effectiveness. Resistance to questioning is impossible."

  “Oh, she answers the questions all right. They all do. But everyone also gives answers that are more than two or three words. Hers are never more than that unless the question is structured in such a way that she has no choice but to answer in sentences. Her replies are ... measured."

  There was a small murmur among the seven people. Susan, the eighth, remained silent, taking in the words and reactions of the others. Sergeant Thawell, from enforcement Company A, spoke up. His hard voice quickly silenced everyone.

  “So why don't you just phrase all the questions like that, Williams?"

  “We've been trying, Sergeant. But doing so means that we can explore only one very small and very specific area at a time, which consumes a great deal of time. As a further detriment, the answers we do get have little or no contextual background. And we knew literally nothing about her original persona. I've never appreciated before how much cognitive reconstruction, research and IHAD complement each other.” At Barrett's stern look, he added quickly, “—from an information gathering point of view. With IHAD, generalities are normally difficult, but with him—her, rather—they are impossible."

  “Why not just ask her to tell you all about herself? Or himself. Itself. Whatever."

  “Because the subject would do just that, Sergeant,” Barrett said tiredly. “Our memory is hundreds of times more comprehensive than we realize. It seems sketchy only because we are unable to focus enough to fully utilize it. But a subject under IHAD inducement conditions has incredibly sharp focus. Unless tampered with, their memory is never wrong, never confused, and accurate to the smallest detail. It would take several years to relay all the memories of a single lifetime. Which the subject would. After all,” he added sarcastically, “the poor wretch's brain has nothing better to do than remember. Damnable technology."

  “Thank you, Doctor. We've heard your objections before,” Sanchez said dryly. “We all agree with you in principle, but cannot afford to in practice."

  “If you cannot practice your principles, then they're not really your principles, sir!""

  “I would disagree, Doctor, but now is not the time for this debate.” The quiet but assertive voice came from Sergeant Abdih, Company B, also an enforcement arm, but generally a calmer man than Thawell. “That she shows any control over the IHAD process, however slight, is alarming enough. What I fear more, though, is her connection to NATech."

  “You are afraid of nothing, Tomah,” said a pale, dark-haired woman to his right.

  He smiled at her. “My wife gives me too much credit. Perhaps it is her work in research that allows her such graciousness. I am afraid of many things, Ella, and NATech is among the greatest of my fears. And our young Cue is from NATech."

  “A NATech of six centuries ago, Tomah,” countered Betty. “And their philosophical gap seems even greater than the time gap. When we uncovered her connection to NATech, we were floored. My first thought was she was a plant that NATech had botched riping.” Everyone carefully avoided glancing at Susie. Unspoken was the thought that had they been positive, this briefing would instead be a memorial service. Betty continued. “As I said, we were almost positive. Ronald and I pried into every corner of her mind to find the proof. It's not there."

  “Either that or you missed it,” Thawell said bluntly.

  Betty had been around too long to be even remotely put off by the man's abrasive attitude. She shook her head emphatically. “No, Sergeant. We know our job. Even still, we took many, many more hours than normal to be sure. It's not there. Maybe because NATech was able to screen them out. Like Ron, I also noticed the form of answers she gave us indicated at least marginal control. That worries me."

  “That she's a plant, Betty?"

  “More than that, Raul.” Only Betty could call him that in formal situations. He not only tolerated it, privately he considered it an honor. “NATech can bury several, maybe as many as a dozen, behavioral modifications into the original persona, but no more. And it's possible they've perfected a screening process, though I can't imagine how. Other than those limited instructions, and despite the original persona being destroyed, plants remain their own personas—if only a copy. They are guided by their own morals, defined by their natural abilities, and cobbled by the orientation process. But this girl is an individual who excels with challenge and has a keen grasp of technologies. Her near escape that first night is proof of her resourcefulness. And she seems to be quickly coming to terms with her new physique. If she is a plant, Raul, her own persona is her greatest asset and our greatest threat."

  “Come, now, Corporal! She's a little girl,” Thawell scoffed.

  “True, Sergeant, she is a little girl. Physically and, to a great degree, emotionally and psychologically as well. And as she matures, everything about her will continue taking on the reality of her femininity. But none of that changes, or will ever change, her mental and adaptive capabilities. We don't fear her body, Sergeant, we fear her mind. She's beyond any other Cue we've dealt with."

  “So if you fear the potential so much, why not just eliminate it?” This time Thawell looked directly at Susan. She stiffened but remained silent.

  “That will be enough, Sergeant!” Lt. Sanchez rarely spoke louder than he needed to, but his voice had an edge that made even Susie start and look at him. “The decision to continue is always left to the counselor. You do not need to be reminded.” Thawell fell silent, but was clearly unsatisfied.

  “I will not speak for Corporal Lendler,” Betty continued, addressing everyone, “but the reason I think we should not waste this potential, as Sergeant Thawell calls her, is that she has an equal, if not greater, potential to be of great benefit to us. She could be the key to crippling, perhaps destroying, NATech Supreme."

  That got everyone. Even Thawell broke off his icy glare at Susie and swung his attention to Betty. She had everyone's attention, which was just as she wanted. She had been impressed with the girl ever since her mess hall performance the first day. No, before that. She had listened to Susie during the long weeks she had researched this ripe, and had been privy to many of the details Susie had uncovered in her intensive search of ancient records. Susie was still young enough to become excited by every new ripe project, while Betty had grown weary of disappointment after disappointment. Betty simply did not have the gifts that Susie had in research. Nor, she had to admit to herself, did she have that streak of total ruthlessness that Susie could call on when needed. That was why she now performed the IHAD on all Cues. Not because of some cold need for control, but because she helped where she could. Taking the dirtiest job always helped. And while this IHAD had been the most grueling and frustrating, it was also stirring hope. What she had heard from her young subject gave her a sense of excitement she had not felt for many years.

  In detail, Betty laid out her reasons for continuation and how a girl with uncanny abilities and a combination of righteous anger and compelling guilt might become the undoing of an entity that had grown so powerful that it was not only beyond the law, it had become the law. By the time she had finished, even Sergeant Thawell was nodding thoughtfully. Everyone else was talking loudly, excited by Betty's reasoning and ideas.

  Susie felt a small thrill inside her as she listened to the group's quickened conversation. She had witnessed the entire interview. She had to, for she was judge, jury and executioner. And she had performed her duty faithfully, taking in every question, every response. Yet it was impossible not to feel a drawing to this girl. She had gone through so much, yet even in deepest stupor, her every answer showed a zest to live, to experience, to be. She was sure that Betty and Ron had grown to feel the same thing. More than with any other Cue, they were hoping she would come through.

  Lt. Sanchez allowed them their enthusiasm, then quieted them by standing. Raul, Susie thought with grudging respect, cou
ld command attention without demanding it. He looked toward her, but she kept carefully looking to a point on the far side of the cavern. He smiled slightly then addressed the group.

  “What you've suggested has a lot that needs to be examined and thought out, Betty. You're going to rob a lot of people of a lot of sleep for the next few months.” He smiled to empty the words of complaint. “But in the meantime, we must still treat our young Cue as a potential threat, and a very serious one at that. And the counselor has not reached her decision yet."

  “Sir?"

  “Yes, Sergeant Abdih?” Sanchez's voice had a great deal more respect in it than it had for Sergeant Thawell.

  “What do we tell her? I mean, how much? She's going to ask questions."

  “Maybe not,” answered his wife Ella. “Cues only have feelings about an IHAD, never memories, terrible feelings they only want to recover from.” She shivered slightly, remembering her own experience. “And most don't want to recall what are to them the fresh memories of a life they're usually glad is gone."

  “True. But from what Corporal Geher has told us, this one is not like most Cues. I would prefer to have prepared a consistent response to give her upon awaking."

  Sanchez turned to Betty with questioning eyes. Betty nodded.

  “You are right, Sergeant. She will want to know her status. She has a talent at deducing a situation quickly. When she wakes up, she's going to know we know. What she doesn't know yet is how important it is."

  “Don't tell her anything. Just lock her out of the system and keep her in the laundry,” Thawell said.

  “Ah, the refreshing military approach to secrecy,” Dr. Barrett said acidly. “'Don't tell nobody nuthin!’ I don't think it will work, Sergeant.” He started ticking off his fingers. “In the five days since cognitive reconstruction had finished restoring her, she has: roused herself out of Healer's Sleep, nearly escaped, already shown positive signs of adjustment to her new body, with a glance accurately identified several of our technologies, and even in an induced state managed to frustrate our interviewers. No offense, Betty."