by P. R. Adams
“Our bondage?” Rimes sighed loudly. “All right. I know your people enjoy being enigmatic, but maybe you could put that aside. Just for the moment, just for me?”
Imogen stepped toward Rimes. She seemed to look deep into his eyes, as if she were searching for something. She leaned in uncomfortably close, sniffing with a nose that Rimes realized had almost a flat, snout-like width to it. The alienness about her struck him once again. Rimes watched her, amazed, and almost repulsed.
“What are you? I mean, how—”
Imogen blinked, and Rimes caught the movement of a nictitating membrane. “I’m the future.” She sounded proud. “You knew that, so why ask? I’m the first second-generation child of my people. Bred in captivity, now free. You’re wounded.”
Rimes looked at his leg. He wasn’t sure if she’d noticed his limp or smelled the blood on him. “Some bullet wounds, mostly bruises. Nothing serious.”
“You’re in pain? You’re much older than I expected, but this is more.”
“No. I’ve got meds to deal with it if it becomes a problem.” Stims, painkillers, healing accelerants, boosters. So many chemicals in my blood.
“Transformation comes at a cost. Pain. Loss.” She tilted her head again.
“Transformation?” Rimes stepped back and tried to see her for who or what she really was. You’re not talking about the physical wounds, are you? “I don’t understand. I asked—”
“When I was young I was a disappointment,” Imogen said. “They expected so much of me based on my ‘parents.’ The egg came from a very deadly operative, the sperm from a very powerful telepath. For years I was neither soft nor hard, neither telepath nor warrior. Then I transformed. The body undergoes many stresses at puberty. You see now what I became. It was painful, but I have become something much more than I was and more than I was expected to be. Your reaction doesn’t disturb me. It shows the loss I’ve suffered to become who I am. You consider me alien, even though in many ways we are the same. I can sense it in your mind, but I don’t need to. It’s in your face. Did you ever see us as aliens before?”
“You’re not completely human.”
“We’re more than human.” Imogen held her head high.
“Yes, technically. But some would argue that by having animal and alien DNA, you’re less also. There’s truth to both, depending on how you look at it.”
“And how would you look at it, Rimes? Your view matters more to me than these hypothetical humans.”
“I’m the wrong person to answer that. My definition of humanity is shifting. Tell me about Perditori, Imogen. You know him?”
Imogen leaned in again and sniffed at him. “As much as anyone can know him, yes. I’m very close to him. But that does not guarantee knowledge. As you said, we are enigmatic by nature. Even to ourselves.” She stepped back. “Tell me what you know about him. If you are who they say you are, I would expect you might know something about him I don’t.”
“All I know is that he can touch minds and control things at tremendous distances. He can see the future, or at least see time differently. He seems extremely powerful while also being fallible. I’ve seen him work through other people, sometimes sending them to certain death, other times using them even after death. And he seems to elicit great loyalty in his people.”
“Yes! That is Perditori. For a moment I thought you were an impostor. Legends can be deceptive.”
“Legends?” Rimes snorted. “What or who would make me a legend?”
“You made yourself a legend. Among our people you are feared and respected. A fierce and fearless warrior, driven to succeed against any odds. Even in your old age, I can sense this now, what is inside you. That means a great deal to us. It is perfect. It is Perditori, Shiva, and Sansin. It is why we have come to you.”
“I don’t understand. Come to me for what?” Rimes rubbed at the scar on his temple where Moltke had shot him. His head felt ready to burst. He wondered if she was in his mind.
“Colonel Rimes?” Barlowe’s voice sounded excited over Rimes’s earpiece.
Imogen smiled knowingly. “Choose your team wisely.”
Rimes walked across the broken glass and stepped outside the terminal. He glanced back over his shoulder at her. She was still watching him, a smug, satisfied smile on her face.
“Go ahead, Ladell.”
“We got it. Tymoshenko had some pretty serious encryption on his system. I finally found some bots that could crack it after a little modification. Lonny was a big help.”
“Excellent.” Rimes smiled slightly at the relationship that had developed between Barlowe and Meyers. “What’d you find?”
“The usual crap, mostly. He had some extortion going, some spying on rivals. He wasn’t good people. Those metacorporate fucks never are. We’re going to be a while digging through everything.”
“He mentioned something about a big project coming up?”
“Yeah.” Barlowe sniffed. “That’s why I called. He had a file. Looks like it was an intercepted ADMP communication. It was odd. We found two copies. We’re still trying to figure that out. Looks like ADMP invested in a lot of deep-space exploration ships a while back, more than they ever let on to any of their metacorporate buddies.”
“So, he was going to lead a raid against ADMP? Against these exploration ships?”
“Just one of them. There was a race on within EEC to get to one of these ships. Looks like he figured out which one just after he arrived here.”
Exploration vessels? Like the Erikson? “Why?”
“Well, it gets tricky, but it looks like the ship found something. Not something. Well, the scientists reported finding something. The ADMP side—looks like some big-time executives—referred to what they found as it, like they knew what they’d found.”
“It,” Rimes repeated. “That’s all? The scientists reported finding something, and the ADMP bigwigs referred to the finding as ‘it.’”
“There’s an identifier to it, something they’ve catalogued, I guess, but without access to their systems I don’t think we can make anything out of that. But there was something we were able to piece together, and that’s why I called.”
“And?”
“Well, it looks like they were referring to Sahara, and they mentioned the Erikson, like it was an Erikson mission or something?”
It. Sahara. The Erikson.
Rimes blinked several times as the meaning sank in. A shiver ran down the length of his spine. He looked back toward the terminal, glancing through the west door, but Imogen was already gone.
“Get me coordinates to that exploration ship. You and Meyers need to be ready to go in two hours.”
28
17 April, 2174. The Carolina.
* * *
It took several days for Rimes to get a feel for the Carolina. He had to turn sideways and duck to fit through some hatches. The ship was built for utility and speed, not comfort. His team shared quarters with the crew, although they rarely interacted. Rimes and Kleigshoen shared an officer’s berth, as did Barlowe and Meyers. Imogen occupied the captain’s cabin, which wasn’t much to speak of. Despite its immaculately clean corridors and well-maintained quarters, it always felt warm and had a lived-in smell.
Imogen explained that the ship originally had a few rail guns but had been modified with a pair of missile racks. The genies had also modified the reactor and drives. Nothing had been done to make the ship feel any more like a home, even though the crew had lived aboard since it had gone missing seven years ago.
One aspect of the ship’s design that Rimes found pleasantly surprising was the lack of an officer’s mess. A single galley served as mess and break area for everyone. This lent itself to a natural, stronger camaraderie developing among his soldiers.
It also forced even more interaction between the humans and genies, something he considered important if they hoped to work together successfully.
Over the course of the trip, Meyers and Rimes brought the others up to sp
eed on what they had experienced on Sahara—the mind-controlling plasma entity that had killed so many and caused the deaths of so many others. Kleigshoen provided what little she knew that Meyers and Rimes didn’t.
The information seemed to worry Rimes’s team more than Imogen’s.
Imogen seemed more curious than concerned, something that became more apparent with each passing day. Her lack of fear worried Rimes. He couldn’t help seeing some of Duke’s arrogance in her and wondered if it was simply unavoidable for telepaths.
With the Carolina decelerating as they neared their destination, Rimes decided to confront Imogen about his concerns. He found her in the galley, sitting with Ji, the genie who’d piloted the shuttle on Bermuda. When Imogen spotted Rimes she dismissed Ji. Ji’s lanky form stretched out as she walked past, dark eyes glaring out from a tight frame of black hair. Those eyes dwelled on Rimes as she exited the galley, her flat face inscrutable.
Imogen smiled and cocked her head as Rimes settled onto the bench across from her. “A few hours, and we should have our answers, Colonel.”
“I don’t know that we can ever have all the answers we want.” Rimes was tired and losing his certainty about the course he’d chosen. Stims could only do so much, and he’d succumbed to sleep several times on the voyage. Dreams had come and gone, and they’d left a sense of dread that weighed him down.
Imogen’s smile seemed to mock him. “You need to limit your expectations. What do you expect for us to learn from this?”
Rimes shrugged. He had no interest in discussing his expectations. “I wanted to talk to you about this…entity.”
“Of course. You fear it.”
“What sort of commander would I be if I ignored what was right there in front of me? I know what it can do, even to the strongest of your people.”
“You mean Duke?” Again, it seemed like she was mocking him. “I’ve heard of him. He was powerful but greedy. I am much more capable, Colonel.”
Rimes nodded. “He didn’t go against it alone. He used others to help him stand against the thing, and we hit it with what technology we could before that.”
“I told you, I’m stronger than Duke was,” Imogen said. “I have no need for assistants. I won’t make the mistakes he made.”
“This thing didn’t rely on strength alone.” Rimes shook his head and framed his hands as if trying to physically capture his thinking. “It teased and promised, and it deceived. Sheila, the IB genie I mentioned? She said it thought on a completely different time scale. It saw and understood things we can’t hope to. It exploited our weaknesses.”
“I can understand more than even the greatest of our predecessors.” Any hint of condescension was gone from Imogen’s voice and mannerisms. “Don’t mistake a lack of fear for a lack of understanding. I am not Duke. My role is very clear, and I intend to fulfill it. You’ve done your part, communicating our demand for the freedom of my people to the United Nations. Now it’s up to me to do my part, and that’s to help you destroy this thing.”
Whether because of fatigue or Imogen’s alien appearance, Rimes couldn’t tell if she was sincere or lying. “All right. I think we have a chance then. I’m still bothered by the idea that an exploration vessel discovered this thing. You consider the way this thing manipulates, the way it sees things so differently…” He recalled the way things had played out on Sahara, the perfect orchestration that had brought him and Duke there in the first place. “What if this whole sequence of events has been planned out from the moment we discovered Sahara? Before that? What if it can see the future like Perditori, but with more accuracy and over a greater period of time?”
Imogen recoiled, as if repulsed by the thought she might have been manipulated. Instead of brushing Rimes’s concern aside, though, she frowned, then closed her eyes as if in intense concentration.
Rimes suddenly became aware of the galley’s absolute emptiness. Simple food smells clung to the surfaces around him, and the Carolina’s rhythmic throbs and ever-present hums filled the open space. They were the sounds that had pulled him into the brutal depths of slumber those times when Kleigshoen had finally left him alone with his thoughts. Slumber threatened him again now, and he fought against its terrifying pull, wishing he had a stim or that Imogen would say something.
As if in response Imogen said, “Nothing is infallible.” She opened her eyes, noticeably frustrated. “Not Perditori, not some construct like you’ve described, and certainly not humans. It’s possible what you say is true. I can’t touch Perditori now, but I have been able to recently. I will consult with him when I can touch him again. If he remains beyond my reach, we’ll proceed warily. I’m inclined to give credence to your concerns, although I remain confident in our chances.”
Rimes stood. “Thank you. We have a few hours to prepare. I’ll be sure my team is ready. What’s your thinking on how this is likely to play out?”
“The metacorporations were a few days ahead of us, maybe even weeks, depending.” Imogen stood. “We should assume they have already arrived. It’s possible they’ve already departed. Once we have sensor contact, we’ll make our final adjustments. I would like your team in the shuttles, just in case. Ji is the better pilot, so put your most valuable people with her. I will be her co-pilot. Other than Ji, Yama is the best there is, and should there be combat, Yama is unequaled, whether in a shuttle, with guns, or with his hands. Put your frontline soldiers with Yama.”
Rimes offered his hand, and Imogen took it. They shook, Rimes once again marveling at her wiry strength. He remembered Andrea and the power of her compact body. He glanced into Imogen’s eyes, hoping he might see a bond there that could promise a future for both people. All he saw was the hint of the feline slit.
Amber numbers counted down the Carolina’s time to target. Two-seventy-seven. Rimes leaned against Ji’s shuttle. Brozek paced, as wound up as Rimes had ever seen him, absently raising a hand to bite nails covered by an armored glove. Brozek glared at the glove as if he resented it, then returned to his pacing. His armor—designed to sit snugly on its wearer and to adjust several millimeters up or down as needed—shifted on his body. He’d lost mass, and he looked ghastly.
“Dariusz.” Rimes tried his best to sound patient, or at least more patient than he felt. “This is your call.”
Brozek stopped his pacing. He looked into the shuttle’s open airlock door, then back at Rimes, raising a hand again to bite at a nail and then stopping when he realized he was still wearing the glove. His gaunt face reflected the same haunted and tired look Rimes saw in the mirror each time he shaved. “Colonel, I…” Brozek’s voice rasped before dropping off to a soft wheeze.
Rimes put a reassuring hand on Brozek’s shoulder. “You’ve already done more for us than could reasonably be expected from a civilian.” Rimes had meant it to sound reassuring, but Brozek’s face reflected pain, as if he feared he’d disappointed Rimes. “This is a war. You’ve already suffered. You’ve been in battle and watched comrades die. You’ve killed. You’ve given me what I needed to kill. I’m a soldier, and I know how that can weigh on a person.”
“I wanted my revenge,” Brozek said. It sounded defensive, but there was a hint of clinical detachment to his demeanor, as if he hoped to convince himself what he had done had been not only justified but necessary.
“We all wanted justice. What they did, it’s a lie to call that war. We knew this day would come, where they would turn on us, where the government would be seen as an inconvenience they couldn’t tolerate. But what they did, how they conducted themselves? You have nothing to be ashamed of. We did nothing wrong.”
Brozek nodded, seemingly reassured. A trickle of perspiration rolled down the side of his face. He seemed unaware of it. “They killed my friends and tried to kill me. We never did anything to them. I own an Ulmi entertainment module! I bought a HuCorp crawler from a recycler and completely rebuilt it when I was seventeen years old. Why would they want to kill me? I—we—were customers!” Brozek’s voice sh
ook, and his eyes pleaded for an answer. “All this, this killing. I-I can’t do it. Not anymore. I look at myself and…”
The words weren’t new. They were the same words Meyers spoke when challenging Rimes’s decisions and objectivity. They were the same thoughts Kleigshoen expressed after killing a teenaged boy who may not have even learned to shave. They were the same thoughts that infiltrated and tried to interfere with Rimes’s plans. They were insidious and damaging and worse: They were true.
Everyone gets tired of killing. It’s part of being human. Are they human, though? Rimes recalled Tymoshenko’s distaste for being in the field. Being removed from the battle, the distance could explain some of it. But all of it?
Forty seconds remained on the amber counter.
That’s all we have left.
“I don’t think it’s something we can ever really understand,” Rimes said.
Imogen opened a channel; Rimes accepted. “Colonel, we are nearing sensor range.”
“I just need another moment,” Rimes said calmly, his eyes closed. Blood for blood. All of us have a price to pay and a pound of flesh to extract.
His eyes squinted against the hangar bay’s suddenly bright lights. When he looked at Brozek again, Rimes could see a glint of hope, but it was adrift in a sea of confusion. “I have to go now, Dariusz. You do what you think is right. No one else is going to say one way or another about you.”
Kleigshoen stepped from the airlock, then she stepped back out of sight. He was out of time.
Rimes jogged to Yama’s shuttle, then up the airlock ramp. He sealed the shuttle shut without glancing back. Brozek’s decision was his to make.
The killing would go on with or without him.
29
17 April, 2174. The Carolina.
* * *
Rimes blinked in disbelief as he watched his BAS, unsure if the Carolina’s sensor feed or communications system was failing or if there might be something wrong with him. Splashed across his helmet’s BAS display were three images. He drilled down into the middle one, anxiously waiting for it to refresh. Pale-cyan wireframe images outlined the basic structures—a field of space debris and a large, cylindrical ship ending in a globe reminiscent of the Erikson.