One's Aspect to the Sun

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  “It isn't the life for everyone. I suppose I didn't pay enough attention to what you wanted. But there was always PrimeCorp to think about—”

  “I understand that now.” She sighed. “I just thought it was a stupid excuse then. I stayed angry about that for a long time. PrimeCorp never seemed like such a threat to me. Then it started to be obvious that you hadn't passed on whatever was keeping you young. I hated you for that, too—and you wouldn't cooperate with PrimeCorp to find out about it. And later,” she went on, as if she were determined to make a full confession, “when Dad got sick. That was your fault, too, as far as I was concerned. And then I couldn't forgive you for putting him in that facility and leaving.”

  “Maja, I—”

  “No, no, you don't have to say anything. I understand. Now I do, at least. Then when Taso and I . . . he went off with someone else.” She smiled wryly. “She was much younger. And even though it didn't make any sense, I blamed you.”

  “Honey, I'm sorry.” I didn't know what else to say.

  She shook her head. “It doesn't matter now. Really. It was just one thing after another, all our lives, and now I see that I always got it wrong.”

  “I wouldn't say you always got it wrong.” I looked up at the viewport, at the incomprehensibly vast expanse of stars beyond it. I'd thought of the whole thing as my home, never understanding that Maja needed something else. Never paying enough attention, I realized. “I spent a lot of time when I was younger being angry with my mother, too. It took time, and learning to understand the situation, before I could see her reasons for acting the way she did.”

  She stared at the fabric of the chair, lightly tracing the design. “I think I should have been able to find that clarity sooner.”

  “I didn't make it any easier for you to do that. It wasn't exactly a normal life.”

  “No, it wasn't,” she agreed, almost smiling. “But that's no excuse.” She'd circled the chair and sat down again, leaning her arms on her knees. She looked forlorn, her blonde hair tumbling over her eyes like it had when she was a little girl. “These last few weeks, being here on the ship, I started seeing things differently, even though I didn't realize what was happening. Then when I saw you finding out things even you hadn't known, from Emmage—I'm afraid I can't call her 'Grandmother' yet—it came into focus. And knowing that there was real danger from PrimeCorp . . . I can't blame her, either . . .” She sighed. “I'm not quite sure what I'm trying to say.”

  I knelt down and put my arms around her. “That you don't hate me?”

  She laughed a little at that, or maybe it was a sob, but at any rate, she hugged me back. “That's it, Mother. I don't hate you.”

  “That's good to know, Maja.” I smiled. “I don't hate you, either.”

  I told Maja that Rei would fill her and Hirin in on what we were planning and she left then. I looked at the time; Yuskeya wouldn't have things ready yet. I was intensely aware of the chipcase in my pocket, and the unwatched messages from my mother waiting for me to view them. I hesitated only a moment before I pulled out the L/L chip, slotted it into the reader, and touched the second vid file to start it.

  The background had changed from the last vid; Mother was obviously in a different place, although it was impossible to tell how much time had passed between the last message and this one. Her hair was swept into one long auburn plait and hung over one shoulder. She wore a baggy, loosely-knit sweater in shades of green and blue. A bank of bookshelves covered the wall behind her, but I couldn't make out any of the titles.

  Mother smiled, a bit tentatively, it seemed. I've been wondering what you both may be thinking about my decisions and actions from an ethical standpoint, she began. We—most of us, anyway—felt that we had a moral right to decide how our research would be used, if not a legal one. In the end, I alone took the action, and the responsibility, of removing the data. But that was seventy-five years ago. You probably wonder why I've worked so hard to keep it secret for so long.

  She took a deep breath. You may be thinking that even if they made untold billions from the product, at least PrimeCorp would have made it available. That there are thousands upon thousands of people who've died in that time, who would still be alive today if they'd had the bioscavengers.

  I can't even count the number of nights I've lain awake and thought about that. Mother's voice was weary, those little lines around her eyes more pronounced. I hunted for ways I could safely get in touch with you, Luta, when Maja and Karro were young, so that I could offer you the choice for them. But I knew they would be monitoring you, watching. I had to consider both the benefits and the risks. If PrimeCorp had this data, it would effectively rule the entirety of Nearspace. I think I did the right thing; look how they've exploited their monopoly on the rejuv market with Vigor-Us. If PrimeCorp could offer virtual immortality, every government in Nearspace would be under its thumb. I simply couldn't take the chance. I was afraid of the kind of society I might be creating if I let it happen. No single corporation should have that much power.

  Even the alien governments, the Vilisians on Damir, and the Lobors, would have come under PrimeCorp's sway. We had samples of Vilisian and Lobor DNA even then, and some researchers were working on modifying first- and second-generation bioscavengers to work for the alien races, too. We share a certain amount of basic biology. It would only have been a matter of time before they had a prototype that would work against alien aging, too.

  Mother took a drink from a delicate china teacup that sat on the table or desk next to her. Graceful tree branches wound around the sides of the cup and the curving handle echoed their shape. I did wonder if some other company would come up with the same data at some point, she continued, or with a similar product. I always felt that in the event another company developed a self-replicating bioscavenger, I'd send everything back to PrimeCorp and let them go to it, or maybe leak the data on the public nets, because at least then there'd be competition. No one would have sole control of human aging. However, I felt that the possibility of that happening was unlikely, for two reasons.

  One was the breakthrough I mentioned. Like the discovery of penicillin at the beginning of the twentieth century, or the Krasnikov matter we depend on for wormhole travel, our breakthrough was something of an accident. We wanted nanobioscavengers that would not only deal with disease, trauma, and aging, but that would be self-replicating as well. The self-replication was the roadblock. And then—I suppose you could call it a twist of fate. Those Vilisian DNA samples? One of them got into a human culture by accident. We never did know how it happened—probably just a tech not following proper lab procedures. But when it combined with the proteins we were growing in the culture—she sat back and snapped her fingers. There it was. The key to the self-replication problem.

  Mother glanced off-camera, and the image froze. The end of the vid.

  I sat back in my chair. Vilisian DNA was the key to mother's breakthrough research? I never would have guessed that. And, I supposed, neither had anyone else, since the research had apparently never been duplicated.

  Unless it had now, by Dr. Ndasa and Schulyer Corp. I wondered if the revelation would come as news to him.

  I looked at the chipcase lying open on my desk. Two more chips, which might hold the keys to Mother's research. Or more evidence against PrimeCorp. Somehow I doubted they'd be protected by the same password as this chip.

  I was about to watch the third vid on the L/L chip when Yuskeya commed me. “Captain, Baden and I have this data ready to send.”

  “Be right there.” I put the chips away again. It was more important right now to get this data to Gusain Buig—if he would agree to help us.

  I made my way to the bridge, and found everyone but Dr. Ndasa waiting for me there. I assumed the Vilisian was still in his former quarters, probably unsure of his status aboard the ship now. I'd have to go and speak with him later.

  “How close is the Trident now?” I asked.

  “Still a ways out,” Yuskeya
answered.

  “I guess we'll chance it,” I said.

  “Did you get the message from Sedmamin?” Baden asked. “I didn't see it come through to me.”

  I shook my head. “No, it self-destructed. We'll have to forget about that for now and concentrate on what we do have. Go ahead and open a narrowband transmission to the Chairman for me.”

  When the Chairman came onscreen, he shook his head. He looked as haggard as I felt. “No word on your mother, Captain, I'm afraid. And the PrimeCorp ship isn't here yet, either.”

  “I'm sorry to bother you, Chairman, but I have a favour—another favour, I suppose I should say—to ask of you.”

  If he was annoyed at my temerity, he didn't show it, at least. “If I can help you, I will,” he said graciously.

  “Chairman, in the past few weeks, while we travelled here, there have been a number of illegal attacks on both my ship and my person. We've managed to retrieve some clues to the identities of the perpetrators—photos and DNA samples, but there are some planets where we suspect we wouldn't get far with any complaints.”

  The chairman raised his eyebrows. “Planetary Statute crimes?”

  “And Primary Statute,” I said, “piracy being one of them. And I suspect that they were committed by order of someone at PrimeCorp.”

  Now he frowned. “Those are serious accusations, Captain.”

  I nodded. “I agree. And I don't make them lightly. But the first thing I need to do is ascertain that the perpetrators did, in fact, have some link to PrimeCorp. And to do that, I need to know their identities.”

  “And that's where I come in,” he said. “You need access to the Nearspace Worlds Database.”

  I held up a hand. “No, I'm not asking for access. I don't want to compromise you. But if you had the data, and could access the database yourself—well, any information you could pass along to me would be much appreciated.”

  He looked at me hard for the space of a few heartbeats, and I thought he might be wishing I were there in person so he could read me better. I didn't know what Mother had told him about me, but it must have been good because finally he said, “Captain Paixon, I would be happy to assist you. But the PrimeCorp cruiser is getting closer. Can you send me the data right away?”

  “It's coming now,” I said, and nodded to Baden. “We'll go back to radio silence until the Trident docks. If you know anything by then, you can send it along with that message. Thank you very much for your help, Chairman.”

  He smiled. “If it will help keep your mother out of PrimeCorp's clutches, that will be thanks enough,” he said, and broke the connection.

  I spent a few minutes watching Kiando whirl slowly below us, colours blurring and shifting beneath the clouds that wreathed the planet. Its hypnotic effect eventually made me realize just how long it was since I'd had any sleep. Everyone else must be feeling the same way, I thought guiltily, but no-one's said a word.

  “I think everyone should get some rest,” I said. “We have to stand a watch, but share it up, and get some sleep. That's what I'm going to do.”

  Rei, Viss, and Baden worked out a schedule to take the watch while we waited to hear from the Chairman, with promises to wake me if the PrimeCorp ship landed on Kiando or anything else of interest happened. Yuskeya demanded to take her fair share, but the others voted her down and she agreed, grudgingly, that she might have had a slightly more difficult night than the rest of them.

  Hirin left the bridge with me and stopped outside my door. “Feel like some company?” he asked, and I was glad to curl up next to him.

  “Luta?” he whispered, after we'd lain silent in the darkness for a few minutes.

  “What?”

  “Your mother—you found her once. You will again, I'm sure of it. And at least you got to see her.”

  He lay pressed against my back, but I could hear the smile in his voice. “You always said I would.”

  “I'm glad I was here for it.” He reached up to stroke my cheek. His skin was warmer now, not as fragile-feeling. “Since . . . since the transfusion. I've been feeling so much better.”

  I rolled over to face him. His face was half in shadow, but I knew every line and plane. “I know. I think it worked. It's another reason I want to find Mother again—to ask her about the whole thing. But I think if Dr. Ndasa ran a scan on you now, the virus would be gone.”

  He nodded slightly. “I think so, too. I haven't felt this good in . . . well, in years. Thank you. If you hadn't thought of the transfusion . . .”

  “I'm just glad it worked,” I whispered. “It's been wonderful, having you here with me, especially now.”

  I sensed, more than saw, his grin in the darkness. “A useless old man like me? That's a pretty big compliment.”

  “Useless? Never,” I said with a chuckle. “And honestly . . . you don't even seem as old anymore. The way you walk, the way you talk. You stand straighter. Your voice is stronger.”

  “Would you believe that my hair is starting to grow in a little darker?” he said wonderingly. “And my hearing is sharper. I'm sure of it.”

  My eyes filled with tears suddenly. It seemed as though whatever worked its age-defying magic in me was also toiling in Hirin, regaining at least some of what time and illness had taken away from him.

  “I wish I'd thought of it years ago.” I brushed away a tear with my fingertip. “You wouldn't have had to go through—”

  “Stop.” He put two fingers gently on my lips. “It never occurred to me, either. We just didn't understand what was happening . . . or at least we hadn't made as many educated guesses. It doesn't matter. What matters is now.”

  I nodded, his fingers still on my mouth. I kissed them.

  “Luta,” he whispered again. “I think I could . . . I wonder if we—”

  I pushed his hand out of the way then and kissed him full on the mouth, stopping his question with my answer. Hirin's virus had virtually erased the sexual element of our relationship years ago, and although we made the best of it, we'd both missed the closeness. I'd noticed a tension building between us ever since the transfusion, noticed it without thinking about what it could mean. It was like slipping back into comfortable clothes that you haven't worn in a long time, the way we'd begun to banter again, to touch casually. I'd wondered if we might rekindle this aspect of our relationship, or if it was just wishful thinking.

  It wasn't. Whatever was working on Hirin, I found out for sure that night, was doing a damn good and thorough job.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hunters, Hunting, and Prey

  Both Dead and Alive

  Baden's voice woke me over the ship's comm a few hours later. His voice was low, as if he hated to wake me. “Captain?”

  I touched my biochip implant and said, “I'm here, Baden. What's up?”

  “Message request just came in from Chairman Buig. The Trident will be docking at the Ando City spaceport soon, and he wants to talk to you about the data we sent him.”

  “Be there in ten,” I said, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. I couldn't say I felt truly rested, but I did feel better. Hirin was still asleep and I didn't wake him. Goodness knew he must be tired out. I quickly and quietly pulled on the one shipsuit I owned, dashed some water on my face, and scooted down to the bridge. Baden was alone there, and the ping from Chairman Buig was waiting on my screen.

  “We'll be watching for the first opportunity to slip away from Kiando,” I said to Baden. “You might want to wake Viss and make sure everything's set to go in Engineering. With luck, what Chairman Buig has to tell me will help us decide exactly where we want to go.” I pinged him back and his image filled my screen.

  “This will have to be brief,” he said, sounding apologetic. “I'll have to put in an appearance and talk to someone from the PrimeCorp ship in person any minute.”

  I knew he would already have said something if it was warranted, but I had to ask. “No word from Demmar?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I won't stop looking. I'll
make a big show of searching for her for PrimeCorp, but the real hunt will be much more discreet. Don't want PrimeCorp to know if I actually do find her.”

  “Did you have any luck with the data we sent you?”

  “I'd say so,” he said. The data appeared on the screen, along with a full head shot of a face I recognized, although it had been dead by the time I'd seen it. It was definitely the intruder. I'd recognize the thin scar that curved along his jawline, if nothing else.

  Chairman Buig summed up what the screen was showing me. “Oleg Borrano. He's been in PrimeCorp's employ for the past number of years. Security division, PrimeCorp Main. That is still listed as his current employment, and he has a top security clearance there.”

  The display switched to show three faces, each with its own personal data. I recognized my three captors from the warehouse on Rhea. “The three names you gave me, Sylvana Kirsch, Ben D'Epiro, and Anshum Chieng—they all also work for PrimeCorp Security, although not at the same clearance level as Borrano.”

  “Thanks, Chairman, that's all pretty much what I expected. Any luck with the DNA?”

  He chuckled. “That took a little more work, but luckily, I have a few people around here who are good at that sort of thing. That DNA sample belongs to one Nikolai Cavan, who doesn't seem to have any employment record with PrimeCorp. In fact, he doesn't have much of an employment record at all, although he's worked from time to time as a general crewman on various traders and mining ships.” He must have seen the disappointment on my face, because he went on. “However, the techrig he was carrying—well, I've also got a couple of folks here who are what I might call 'techdogs.'”

  I smiled. “I know one or two of those myself. They're handy to have around.”

  He nodded. “They tell me this rig is a highly modified version—illegal modifications—of a piece of technology Ginteno Tech was making before PrimeCorp took them over. The mods look like mass-production, not things someone hacked together in their workshop. The opinion is that they would raise some eyebrows with the Protectorate and the Administrative Council.”