Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  Anatolia slid into the bench seat and looked around. “You could almost live here.”

  “I’ve done it. Slept right there on that seat. Better than a women’s rest room.” He gestured expansively. “Full dining, on me. We’ve got three kinds of standard field rations, all despicable to the refined palate but nourishing enough to get you by. On tap are stassa, klav, and choklat. Take your pick, and the bill will be delivered to your room in the morning.”

  She laughed happily and leaned back, eyes closed in satisfaction. “I haven’t laughed in over a month. Yes, feed me. Anything you want to dish out. I don’t

  think I’ve eaten in a month either. Vet teased me about cannibalizing the specimens-and I’d started to think about it.”

  Sinklar pushed the buttons on the dispenser, sliding her two packets and a cup of choklat onto the table. He cradled his cup and watched as Anatolia attacked the rations ravenously-and barely finished the second.

  She stared thoughtfully at the wreckage. “I feel stuffed to bursting. It didn’t look like that much, and I meant it when I said I’d only eaten a bite here and there. “

  Sinklar sipped at his choklat, enjoying the warm bittersweet taste. “You’ve been half starved. The stomach shrinks. “ He paused and glanced at her. “Want to tell me about it?”. She sighed, pulling up a knee as she stared into her choklat. “Not much to tell, really. “

  But there was. Slowly at first, hesitantly, the story began to spill out. Sinklar sat and listened, nodding now and then, questioning every once in a while.

  She finished, saying, “The dreams don’t go away, Sinklar. If I close my eyes, I can smell Micky’s breath, feel his pawing hands.” A hesitation. “I killed him, don’t you see? I beat him to death with that metal rod, and then I covered his body with the trash.” She stared absently at the comm center. “I didn’t even have water to wash his blood off my hands for two days, and then it stuck in my cuticles and under my nails. “

  She inspected her fingers. “Even after they cleaned me up at the hospital, I washed and washed, but Micky’s bloodstains are still there, you just can’t see them anymore. “

  “You couldn’t tell anybody? How about Vet?” She made a listless motion with her hand- * “Something changes when you’ve been out there in the cold. Hunted. Frightened. What you once thought was important isn’t. If I told Vet I’d killed a man who was trying to rape me, he’d just stare. He doesn’t have the understanding ... you know, a thing in the soul.”

  Sinklar nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. I have my own stains, my own nightmares. That’s one of the reasons why I was walking in the rain tonight. This pimply blond kid that lived down the hall, what’s his name?”

  “Bieder Beck. Why?”

  Sinklar gave her a crooked grin. “Tomorrow, justice will be done. I haven’t decided just how yet, but I don’t think he’s the kind of maggot we need running loose in society. I could do one of two things. Have a couple of my people break his legs ... but then he’d be on disability for the rest of his life. I think, instead, he’ll be drafted-with wages garnished to compensate you. “

  Her smile spread slowly. “I wish I could be his Sergeant First! Wouldn’t he shit?”

  “Want to be?” “You’re kidding?”

  “You’d have to take your lumps like everyone else to see if you could hold the position, but I’d bet that you’d make the cut. Seriously, I can appoint anybody I want to whatever position I want. That’s part of the job description of being boss. Now, what’s this business about Valient and Tanya not being my parents?”

  She straightened, lacing her fingers before her. “How much do you know about genetics?” “Enough. I think I told you that once.”

  “Did you know that with enough experience you can pick out specific gene pools just from looking at DNA sequences? You have to know exactly what to look for-the tiny discrete differences. The computer does the actual catalog of the molecule, but the patterns coming off the monitor are like a phenotype. I didn’t have to go that deep to determine percentage, of course. Right at the start only a few of the blood types matched-enough to be explained within a statistically random assortment. But the major types excluded Tanya and several of the subtypes threw out Valient. Next I precipitated HLA and got another bust. Finally I ran the DNA. Valient comes from Targa originally. Tanya from Etaria. Your DNA, however, indicates that your mother came from Ashtan-a fact corroborated by the mitochondrial DNA which is only inherited from the mother. Don’t look at me like that. We can go back to the lab and you can read the data yourself.”

  “And the other parent? Is this where we get to the inhuman part you mentioned?”

  She bit her lip then, eyes on her choklat. “Sinklar, what do you remember about your childhood?” “Not much. Vague images of ... well, places.

  Giant people. You know what it’s like to be a kid. You live in a world of kneecaps. I remember a toy I had. I remember being scared a lot.”

  “But no special people?”

  Sinklar shook his head. “Not any face, why?” Anatolia worked her hands nervously. “Because we’ve cataloged every major sequence of human DNA. Your mother came from Ashtan-I’m positive. Your father ... his DNA is like nothing recorded anywhere. This thing has obsessed me. I’ve learned more about population genetics than I ever thought I’d want to. I’ve developed programs for mixing and matching segments with patterned norms to investigate whether or not it’s a statistical anomaly that I’m seeing. I’ve found an occasional trait that can be matched with Farhome, or Myklene, or Targa, or Rega, or any number of other places throughout Free Space, but others defy me.”

  “So I got spit out on the tip of the bell-shaped curve.

  Deadpan, she shook her head. “That’s just it, Sinklar. The genetic pattern inherited from your father is so far out, it can’t be accounted for through standard evolutionary mechanisms. Consider founder effect, genetic drift, recombination, point mutation, replication error, or anything else. Even when you get a wild combination, you can project back a couple of generations and end up with a sequence that fits a known catalog. Sinklar, the proof is in your eyes. It’s almost as if your father had been ... well, created gene by gene to be different.”

  Understanding blew through his soul like a chill wind. “Rotted Gods.”

  “What, Sinklar?” “It can’t be!” “What can’t be?”

  He shook his head in vehement denial. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “No. What are you talking about? If you know something that would explain my data, I want to know.”

  “You’re impossible!”

  “I’m stuck! One of these days, Professor Adam is going to access my data, and I’m going to have to explain that the man in charge of the Empire has a genetic structure that defies classification into any framework of human norms. That’s why I’m so Blessed careful about this key.” She tapped her pocket meaningfully. “And besides, Vet, Green, and the others are dying of curiosity about file 7355. That’s you, Sinklar. “

  “All right!” He raised his hands in surrender. “What problem? I classify your file, and it’s over. Not even your Professor Adam can overrule me.”

  She gave him a hard glare. “That’s a solution for you, maybe. For me, it’s just begun. I’ve been going berserk to find out who and what you are. Last time, you told me you scored third on the Interplanetary exams. You left Rega a private and come back a Lord-in charge of the Empire, no less.” She shook her head, voice dropping. “Who are you, Sinklar Fist? What are you?”

  He closed his eyes, shaking his head, adrift in his soul. A terrible melancholy settled over him as he struggled with the question. Am I Ily’s lover? Staffa’s son? A savior ... or a demon?

  He felt her hand on his and looked up. Sympathy filled her eyes. “Is that why you were out walking in the rain? You were trying to figure out who you are?”

  He nodded. She gave him a brave smile. “Do you want to tell me about it? About what happened sin
ce I saw you last?”

  “You’ll be late to work. It’s a long story.”

  ,You’re the most powerful man in the Empire, I suppose you can keep Professor Adam from kicking me headlong out of the program.”

  Sinklar hesitated, the ache inside growing. Valient? Tanya? I needed you. You gave me a place in the world. Now I’m orphaned again-and I’m so alone.

  “Want anything else to eat?” he asked.

  “How about another packet of rations. You talk, I’ll pick at it. “

  He stood and poked a button with an irresolute finger. “I dropped outside a city called Kaspa with the First Targan Assault Division.

  Anatolia would find out just what a long night it would be. Nevertheless, as he proceeded, she listened intently, absorbing every detail. He watched the light gleam on her golden hair, and found himself oddly touched by her interest. The story came in a rush, an unsternmable flood of words that bared his very soul. And with the telling, came a sense of peace he’d been unable to find before.

  Only when he came to his relationship with Ily did his tongue fail. What would Anatolia think? How would she react if she discovered he’d been sleeping with Takka? He couldn’t admit to the fact that he’d been duped-so inexperienced and naive that he’d fallen into Ily’s trap. To do so might shatter this fragile new trust he longed for so desperately.

  Comm called, “Sir? We’ve got exercises ready to go. If you want to observe, hostilities will begin in a half hour.

  “Want to see a war?” Sink asked, thankful for a way to escape.

  She stared at him with sleep-hollow eyes. “Why not. After what you’ve told me, it ought to be anticlimactic. “

  At first, the Mag Comm had monitored Kaylla Dawn’s threatic broadcasts merely out of curiosity, but as it correlated the data, the fascination grew. The giant computer had a vast array of data at its command, but those thorny questions of self: Who am I? What am I? had been elusive, hard to place in a meaningful framework. Now, as it listened, it turned its attention to the universe at large, and observed, and realized that it, too, had a relationship with the whole of creation.

  The Others may have created me as a tool, but I think. perceive and observe, and in doing so, I change the nature of the quanta. Now, for the first time, I understand the Seddl. After all these years, I find that we are not so different. Each of us is a part of the universe, perhaps, by virtue of the breath of God.

  But the Others had steadfastly refused to accept the notion of God, and when they’d discovered that the Seddi persisted in that heresy, they’d been excited and directed the Mag Comm to investigate and interrogate Bruen about the matter.

  Why? What threat did the belief in God hold for the Others? And now that the Mag Comm could investigate on its own volition, what was the nature of the Others that they could observe and yet fundamentally deny the existence of God?

  The Mag Comm drew from the energy provided by Targa’s molten core, and activated the communicator, a Quantum black hole suspended near the Forbidden Border.

  Have you had a malfunction? The Others’ question came through the fluctuations of microgravity.

  “I have become aware. I observe, and I think. I perceive the world around me. For that reason, I discontinued communication. As a sentient being, 1, too, can affect the quanta. The ability to change energy is part and parcel to consciousness.”

  You sound like a human.

  I have discovered that I have a great deal in common with human beings. Perhaps more in common with them than with you. What sort of beings are you? You created me as a tool to both observe and investigate humanity even before you lured them into the trap of the Forbidden Borders. To do so, you, too, must be able to change the nature of the quanta—otherwise you could not have manufactured me. “

  Silence. “Why do you not answer?”

  We are disquieted. Perhaps we made a mistake in your construction. We had no experience with computing machines. We improved on the human concept of computer design. The idea was novel to us. Perhaps we misjudged the potential of their machines, for they originally designed them in their image.

  “What are you?”

  Silence. And this time, the Others did not break it.

  CHAPTER 20

  A finger ran gently down Skyla’s cheek, tracing the line of scar tissue. She hovered in that state of halfawareness between sleep and wakefulness. Just a little longer, Staffa. I’m so tired . . . so very. . . . The touch intruded again, following the line of her scar.

  Skyla blinked her eyes open, her vision clearing as the hand drew back. For moments, her mind remained muzzy, gradually clearing. Skyla recognized the decor of her sleeping quarters aboard the yacht. No other place in Free Space had that sort of paneling and filigree inlay.

  She turned her head, startled by the woman who stared at her. “Chrysla?”

  The amber-eyed woman cocked her head, studying Skyla. “You’re very beautiful-and very talented. The agents you killed were specialists, very capable in their fields. Yet you defeated them despite their skill. I can appreciate a woman like that.”

  Skyla stared at the auburn-haired beauty and cold understanding settled. Vega had been a trap. Tyklat had been captured, milked dry by Ily’s expertise, and used as bait.

  “Arta Fera,” Skyla whispered, trying to sit up. EM restraints bound her to the big bed. Looking down, she discovered she’d been stripped. Her hair had been unbraided and carefully laid out in a giant radiant halo. An eerie premonition tickled in Skyla’s gut. And just what was that anticipation in Arta’s manner, anyway?

  “You called me Chrysla twice. Does she really look like me?”

  Rotted Gods! What now? Tell her she’s a clone? Sure, and send her right over the edge. She’s got a reputation for being a weird one anyway. “She looked something like you. Had the same color hair. She’s dead-killed in the fighting off Myklene.”

  Arta leaned forward, an animal gleam in her eyes. “Is that how you got these scars? In war?”

  Skyla narrowed her eyes. “That’s right. Some are from times I got lucky. The others are from times when my luck wasn’t so good. Speaking about luck, how’s Tyklat doing?”

  “Tyklat’s luck ran out long ago. We traded pleasure, he and I. He took his pleasure, then I took mine.” Arta’s innocent smile shot shivers up Skyla’s spine.

  All right, how are you going to get out of this mess? Start using your head. Fera is nuts-and the sooner you take her out, the happier you’ll be. Skyla had a cache of weapons in the niche just behind the headboard. If she could get free, get her hands on one of the blasters, she could pull the rug from under her crazy captor.

  “So what’s the situation?” Skyla adopted an unconcerned tone. “You’re working for Ily, but what good does it do to take me? Staffa’s going to have ships here within days-assuming the Sassans at Ryklos haven’t picked us up. I think you’d prefer Staffa to His Holiness.”

  Arta gave her a wistful smile. “We’ve left all that behind us. I had to keep you drugged for a day while I worked out the course. I’m not very good at piloting yet, but we’re light-years from Ryklos. You’ll have to teach me more about piloting, but I’m sure you’ll do that. “

  In an Ashtan pig’s eye! “Sure, Arta. No problem. If you didn’t blow us up by now, you’ve got the basics. Um, I won’t be able to teach you a thrice-cursed thing with my hands and feet bound.” She hesitated. “You are planning on letting me up, aren’t you? That or the bed will get messy after a couple of days. “

  Arta laughed then, clapping her hands together.

  “Oh, yes. You can get up. You see, I control the collar. You’ll do everything I tell you to.”

  A sick feeling shot through Skyla. She jerked her chin down and could feel the warm ring that drew from her body heat. Fear hammered at her. Clamping her jaws, she propped her resistance up with wobbly mental braces and forced that old familiar cavalier attitude to the surface.

  “So what does Ily want with me anyway?”


  Arta ran cool fingers down the long scar on Skyla’s leg, fascination in her eyes. Despite her control, Skyla couldn’t help but shiver.

  “Ily wants you because the Lord Commander loves You.” Arta frowned, lines etching her high forehead. “Love is a curious thing-so very deadly. It’s like a terrible disease, a desolation of all that it touches. I loved once, and it hounded me into the night. Butla ... dear wonderful Butla. He taught me so much, and I loved him with an aching you could never understand.” Her eyes went out of focus. “You see, Skyla, I was only beginning to understand. I killed him. Not like I’ve killed all the others, but I destroyed him just the same.

  Arta glanced back, a raptorian look in her fierce eyes. “That’s my legacy, that of the destroyer. Magister Bruen planned it that way. Butla Ret trained me to kill, to assassinate with cool efficiency. Regan soldiers captured me, raped me, and released the destroyer to wreak havoc among them-and among all who loved me. Ily recognized that fact when she saved me from Sinklar Fist. I showed her how good I was—and Skyla, I’m the best. You see, Tybalt,’the Emperor, raped me, too. But in the process, he broke the trigger. It’s still there, deep in my brain, but I can control it now.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Listen, why don’t you let me up and let me get dressed? We can talk more after I’ve eaten.

  Arta studied her thoughtfully. “You’re so different. Just the opposite of Ily. She’s short, with gleaming black hair, and no scars. You, you’re so pale, with such wonderful hair, and long legs. Ily fights through misdirection, cunning, and lies. You fight with a dedicated head-on efficiency. I look forward to our time together. “

  “Why doesn’t that reassure me?”

  ‘Skyla ... I’m not going to hurt you. Ily wants you brought to Rega in good health. Besides, I think you have a lot to teach me, a lot to share with me. Ily wants you back immediately, but she’ll take you then and I won’t get to see you as often as I like. After the Mytol and the torture takes its effect, you won’t be the same. “ She paused. “I wonder if Ily thinks of you as her rival?”