The Orphaned Worlds

by Michael Cobley

  After she left, they sat in the casual chairs, dejected, barely looking at one another. Then Irenya made an impatient sound, stood up and went over to pick through the apparatus on the tables. A moment later she said:

  ‘Julia, look at this.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘An enzyme-shift analyser, quite a new one too.’

  Julia frowned, got to her feet and went over to join Irenya who was examining a blue-grey, podlike piece of equipment. Before she could speak, Irenya made the signalogue gesture for careful then look.

  ‘There’s also a good selection of centrifuges,’ she said, indicating a group of domed units with her right hand.

  But it was her left hand that Julia noticed as it reached forward to rest on a transparent cube, still half-wrapped in blue, bubbly cladding. She recognised it immediately as a morphic cell, a containment in which any organ or portion of any gene-mapped creature could be created by tiny builder machines. There had been a drained, broken one amongst the workshop clutter back on Zophor 3 and, picking over it and a partial manual, they had speculated that the tiny builders, called polymotes, could be easily redesigned to be mobile outwith the tank, performing any number of functions.

  ‘This seems a bit superfluous, though,’ Irenya said mischievously, patting the cube.

  ‘Oh, who knows?’ Julia said. ‘Might come in handy for something.’

  After that she gathered them together to discuss how to tackle Talavera’s unpleasant-sounding neurotoxin, while using signalogue to let them in on her secret project. Smiles replaced the dispirited looks and everyone switched into experimental process mode, deciding who got to pursue which line of enquiry, priorities of equipment use, lists of additional materials required, and whether there were any theoretical gaps. Julia knew that her team weren’t faking their engagement with Talavera’s assignment; the Enhanced had been conceived as problem-solving human machines, almost, compelled to grapple with the facets and mysteries of scientific questions. She, on the other hand, would have to fake involvement with the others while working to make the morphic cell produce what she needed.

  And by the morning it had followed her design specs exactly and modified fully a third of its store of 300 polymotes. The modification included a toughened shell to withstand the more rugged conditions outside the cube, and certainly outside the team’s confinement quarters. Each was less than a millimetre across but its dumb-bell casing was full of molecular data systems and wielder pods, as well as a power source and propulsion unit. Releasing them was easy, putting a wallchart up next to a vent grille or retrieving a dropped item from down next to a loose maintenance cover. To track and direct them Julia was using an analyser pad reprogrammed and secretly refurbished to transceive on short-range shortwave. All the polymotes were following preset routes to destinations all around Talavera’s ship, mainly in the sections around her quarters – Julia hoped to gain access to the woman’s cabin and see if anything useful could be learned.

  It was inevitable, however, that her tiny spies would encounter deadly hazards. After the first twenty-four hours a series of fatal losses came about from being trodden on (14), washed down sinks, showers and toilets (5), painted over (3), crushed by doors (8), melted by heat from a light source (9), vented into space with garbage (7), and eaten (2). Another eleven ceased functioning for no discernible reason, which left 41 with which to explore the dark corners of the Sacrament, to find out Talavera’s secrets.

  Ship-time, it was almost 2.15 a.m., leaving ten minutes until the transition to normal space. That was the cue to get the Enhanced moving. Rising from her bed in the darkness, she crept out of the little room and by the meagre light from the corridor outside she saw that the others were waiting, crouched in their own doorways. A pair of Gomedrans were on guard outside the entrance; with her analyser pad Julia sent commands to several nearby polymotes and a vidage loop of the previous uneventful hour began streaming to the ship’s security station. She then signalled to Arkady and Thorold and the three of them moved quietly towards the entrance – a moment later the double doors slid open and both guards received a faceful of highly effective knockout vapour.

  Julia glanced at the analyser’s timer – 2.18.35. She watched Arkady and Thorold drag the insensible Gomedrans into the main room’s shadows, then nodded and sent them on their way. It would take them about three minutes to reach the lock leading to one of three shuttles currently moored to the Sacrament. Julia’s plan was for Irenya, Konstantin and herself to follow at 2.20, a staggered arrangement in case they had to adopt plan B, head for the escape pods.

  Despite losing more than half her polymotes in less than thirty hours, Julia had still been able to track the movements of most of Talavera’s forty-nine-strong crew. Matched to the deck layouts this revealed busy areas, passages, restrooms, a cantina, crew stations, and certain rooms that only Talavera and a few others ever entered. One was directly opposite Talavera’s own quarters while the other was in engineering; both had secure bioreader entry systems and both were cabled up to draw heavily on the ship’s powerplant.

  With a polymote positioned on the doorframe, right where brushing garment contact would catch it, Julia gained entrance to Talavera’s cabin. She had half-expected blank walls and minimal personal effects, yet fixed over her bed recess was a picture of a strange building, a dark grey central dome surmounted by a tall spire from which many long spines protruded, angled upwards. Julia only caught a glimpse but its distinctive shape stayed in her mind as Talavera’s motion gave the polymote a sweeping view. There were a few more individual items, a prayer-scroll on the wall, some clothes heaped on a chair, and a few bottles and vials of makeup on an austere dresser. There was also a basic holostation in the corner which is where she went and sat for a while, flicking through screenwork, most of which was obscured from Julia’s polymote by an upper arm until the end. Julia just managed to grab an image of the screen before Talavera shut down the app and the station. From a quick glance, it seemed to show a multiplex database listing dozens of entries, names and figures, mostly in a character language she did not recognise.

  Then Talavera was up and heading for the door, which slid open. Crossing to the mystery room she pressed her palm against the reader and a moment later the door opened in double layers, the inner sliding diagonally. Within was shadowy dimness, relieved by the faint radiance from equipment standby lights. Julia noticed several long dark shapes along one wall before Talavera turned the other way and sat at a wide, enclosing console which came to life when she spoke a few syllables. Julia had ordered the polymote to climb up to shoulder height and had a clear view now as Talavera called up a holoscreen then skimmed through a series of strange, bulbous, almost mushroomlike images, some glittering with patterns of tiny bright pinpoints. All of which left Julia mystified, even after running a couple of comparative macros in her cortical net.

  Talavera shook her head impatiently, killed the console with a sharp word, and went over to the nearest long dark shape. Standbys brightened to icy blue at her touch while a pattern of decorative panels glowed softly, revealing a gleaming, black, smoothly curved exterior. For a moment Julia was reminded of the deadly missiles that they had augmented, until Talavera touched an invisible control on the flank and a section of the broader end parted in two shell halves that slid down either side. Inside Julia saw grey, webby padding and a head-and-shoulders-shaped depression, and at the side a glassy black oval projecting a holopad which Talavera fingered and prodded.

  It was a full-body virtuality tank – Julia had seen ads and flybys about them during her tiernet sessions and knew that they were used as therapy for the seriously disturbed and also as a punishment and re-education tool for certain grades of criminal. And as Talavera closed up the tank and headed for the door, Julia saw that there were another four sitting side by side, black, gleaming and waiting.

  What is she planning for us? she thought.

  She looked up from the analyser, glancing at her fellow Enha
nced as they worked on Talavera’s neurotoxin. But this was neither the time nor the place to show them what she had found, and in any case, the information was incomplete. She needed to know more so while she tried to decode those strange database images she focused polymote activity on gaining entry to the other mystery room in Engineering.

  Seven and a half hours of enforced patience later opportunity arrived, in the shape of Silshur, a Kiskashin. The crew of the Sacrament were mainly Gomedrans and Henkayans with a scattering of Bargalil and a handful of reptiloid Kiskashin, all of whom held technical ranks. Silshur was the only one previously seen entering the secure room apart from Talavera, and when he paused to submit to the scanners Julia’s polymote fell from the door lintel, sticky cilia anchors extended. Landing perfectly, it then proceeded to circumnavigate the Kiskashin’s neck as it entered the room.

  Lights bloomed harsh and white. Directly opposite the door was a wall full of shelved grey modules, their cabling draped down the back in clipped bundles. The Kiskashin went over to one in particular, a dark blue module that lit up and projected an opaque console and square display. Silshur poked and stroked the translucent control pads then turned to look at the rest of the room, providing Julia at last with the view she wanted.

  Eight large identical G-shaped units occupied the rest of the room in two rows of four. Each had a heavy, waist-high base from which a cluster of six metal ducts rose to a thick oval platform about a foot across at its narrowest. On the platform sat a transparent, cylindrical canister while six thinner cables reached up from beneath and plugged in all around the middle section. The overarched limb of the G came down to form a junction with the top of the canister. All the devices were dull and unactivated, apart from one which the Kiskashin had powered up. Touch panels glowed, status headlamps winked, and within the canister an ovoid of layers of threads spun, pulsed and rippled with fine patterns.

  A chill of recognition stole over her. From lecture hall lessons, from group speculations, from papers on particle physics theory, she knew she was looking at a dark matter containment vessel. The conjecture had been that arrays of immensely strong electromagnetic fields would be needed to compress even a few milligrams into a large room, whereas this equipment was clearly employing structured force fields to contain a much smaller volume.

  Within the shifting field cage, glittering points flickered in a knot of pale blue mist, vein patterns glowed and faded, gleams blurred. Just as Julia’s tutors had predicted.

  And there were another seven sitting dormant under the lights, implying that they would soon be put to use. Talavera obviously knew about the Enhanced research into dark matter, but did she also know about the seabed gathertraps at Station Pelagius on Nivyesta? How much did she know? Dread added another dimension to Julia’s already anxious frame of mind.

  It had been dark in the Enhanced quarters when she woke the others and got them together in her little room to show them her findings. Voices were hushed but expressions spoke loudly of their shock, fear and anger. When she suggested figuring out a way to jump ship on arrival at the Darien system, the approval had been unanimous.

  Now, she waited with Irenya and Konstantin, crouching in the shadows, watching the analyser’s counter creep towards 2.20. Then it was time and they were heading out to the corridor, following its rising curve past the main connecting doors to a large maintenance panel which popped open as they approached. They sidled along a narrow, dark passage which ended at a ladder that went up to a cramped, red-lit room through which clusters of piping ran. Another panel slid aside and they emerged into a corridor with a curved left wall.

  ‘Nearly there,’ Julia said, pointing to the far end. ‘That T-junction leads to airlocks and the shuttle …’

  But they were barely a couple of paces further on when Julia felt a quiver of vertigo, a momentary blurring in her vision … and suddenly the corridor was filled with ship alarms and system voices warning of life-support failure.

  ‘The ship’s exited hyperspace!’ said Konstantin.

  ‘Too soon,’ Julia said and began to run. ‘Come on!’

  Right at the junction a large hatch gaped and they clambered up narrow steps, a boarding lock that led straight into the shut-tle’s crew compartment. Thorold jumped up as they entered and Julia quickly saw that he was alone.

  ‘Arkady?’ she said.

  Thorold trembled with anxiety. ‘Went back out, said he was making sure it was safe for you …’

  Julia gritted her teeth and stared down at the analyser and its grid of visual feeds from the remaining polymotes. But as she searched for any sign of Arkady, one by one the polymote feeds cut out, a burst of seething silver then nothing.

  Then Arkady appeared at the hatch, relaxed and smiling as he stepped into the compartment.

  ‘Everyone be calm,’ he said. ‘Sit down. No need to panic …’

  Julia glared at him. ‘What the hell were you … ?’ And stopped when she saw the gun.

  ‘Be calm.’ His eyes were darker than usual, intense. ‘Sit down. Everyone sit down. No need to panic. Sit down.’

  The gun was similar to those carried by Talavera’s guards.

  Feeling sick and angry and betrayed, Julia slumped into one of the padded couches and the others did so too. Irenya tried talking to Arkady but when the only response was some or all of those few maddening phrases, she too sat back, dejected. A moment later, as expected, Talavera entered along with two armed Gomedran guards. Back in the ship, all the alarms had fallen silent.

  ‘The show’s begun,’ Talavera said, taking an ovoid control from inside the heavy fabric jacket she had on. She pressed one of its studs and all the screens in the shuttle winked on to show clusters of ships in rough wedge formations sweeping towards the planet Darien.

  It was the Holy Armada. Julia felt gripped by despair, not daring to glance at the others, unable to bear the sight of their faces.

  But then the picture panned right, magnification blurring forward. Small glittering objects hanging against the planet’s blue-grey swirls suddenly leaped into close prominence. Close support ships and maintenance tenders darted like minnows alongside the leviathan bulk of the Brolturan battleship, poised whole and undamaged in its orbit, its hangars deploying interceptors, its decks of weaponry targeting the invading Spiral craft. The frame pulled back, showing the massive vessel against the planet.

  ‘Sadly, I’ve already had several terse messages on the subject of the signally untouched Brolt ship.’ Talavera’s smile was razor-edged. ‘They range from sombre vows of punishment to howls of enraged hysteria.’

  Julia, feeling a measure of relief, crossed her arms and sat back. ‘I can’t say I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s not me you’ll need to be saying it to …’ Talavera began, then broke off, raising one hand to her ear as if listening. Then she smiled. ‘In fact, it may not be necessary.’

  On the screens a bright point appeared and flared suddenly. Filters cut in and the image adjusted to show an expanding cloud of debris with a knot of blazing white-hot energies at the core. All were silent as smaller ships, caught in the shock wave, spun and collided with one another while secondary explosions flashed, revealing huge ragged sections of superstructure wheeling away.

  ‘Seems that battleship was using one of its heavy beam projectors to hit a target on the planet’s surface. Your missile interrupted its second volley.’ Talavera laughed. ‘I think the cosmos must run on irony.’

  The other Enhanced averted their eyes. Julia noticed that Arkady, standing a foot or two away, had lowered the gun, letting it hang by his side. Desperation got the better of her but even as she steeled her nerves and was on the point of lunging for the weapon, Arkady’s hand snapped up, muzzle aimed squarely at her face. He had scarcely altered his stance or the position of his head.

  ‘Peripheral vision is a wonderful thing,’ said Talavera. ‘But so is a talent like yours!’ She indicated the screens, the scene of devastation, repeating and looping, close-up and s
low motion. ‘Your work was a success – one capital ship destroyed, the other crippled and nearly defenceless.’

  ‘The Earthsphere ship is still … intact?’ Julia said. ‘How is that possible?’

  Talavera pointed the control, and some of the screens changed to show the Heracles, its prow and most of the forward section a charred, twisted wreck, exposed innards leaking vapours and fluids in trailing white clouds of frozen crystals. Smaller craft were swooping in towards it, firing off bolts of energy while the ship itself was slowly spinning around its axis.

  ‘Seems the Earthers somehow detected the second missile’s approach, went evasive and got less than half a click away when it detonated. Wrecked their prow, fried most of their systems and all their weapons. Right now they couldn’t defend themselves against a hull-scrubber … well, look at that …’

  On screen, the Earthsphere ship, its spin halted, had ignited its main reaction thrusters and was moving off, still under attack from Spiral Armada gunships. Suddenly, a streaming shimmer enclosed the Heracles, which then leaped forward in an eyeblink of brightness that shrank away to nothing. Talavera shook her head.

  ‘Have to hand it to that captain, knew what he was doing, used the bows to shield the rest of his ship and his engines from the missile blast. And now he’s off into hyperspace, leaving the Covenant Order of the Spiral Prophecy in possession of the high ground!’

  Julia gave no response, instead looked up at Arkady, standing still as a statue, face expressionless, gun still trained on her.

  ‘Arkady, what happened?’ she said. ‘Arkady, we’re your friends …’

  ‘Be calm, sit down, everyone be calm.’

  Julia stared icily at Talavera. ‘What did you do to him?’ There was a sly smile. ‘Oh, he came to me, dear Julia, and laid bare your efforts. Must say, those polymotes are so clever – you’re going to make me such a great deal of money!’