“True,” said Caird, who seemed to have grasped March’s plan. “Very true.”
Carnow’s augmented gaze shifted to him, and Lorre looked up from his scanning unit long enough to give Caird a measured look. “You are known to us, Commander Caird.”
“My fame just continues to spread,” said Caird.
“You are a Navigator,” said Carnow. “You cost the Final Consciousness dearly at Martel’s World. We shall exact repayment in time.”
“Do you take standard credit chips?” said Caird. “Or payment in kind? I’m afraid I don’t have any fleet carriers at the moment, but I suppose I could find you a garbage scow or something like that.”
“Glib jokes will not stop the inevitable triumph of the Revolution of the Final Consciousness,” said Carnow. “Your obsolete, archaic society shall be smashed. Your regressive social structures shall be crushed.” Vasquez and the two Marines shifted. March hoped they had enough discipline not to start shooting in response to the grandiose threats. “Those worthy of ascension to the Final Consciousness shall join us, and those who are unworthy shall be cleansed.” She smirked at the Marines. “Just as the crew of the Covenant was cleansed.”
“Really?” said March. “We’re having a polite conversation, and you bring threats into it?”
“Rude,” said Caird.
“Extremely rude,” said March, glancing again at the security drones.
“The Revolution shall crush your worlds,” said Carnow, “and…”
“We wander from the topic at hand, Overseer,” said Lorre in his quiet voice, not looking up from the scanner.
“Yes, of course,” said Carnow, glaring at Lorre. March had the impression that Carnow did not care that much for Lorre. Lorre, for his part, seemed only mildly contemptuous of her, the way he had seemed mildly contemptuous of Thomas Vindex back on Rustbelt Station. The Machinist agent seemed cursed to forever work with people beneath his level of competence.
March could relate.
“What is the topic at hand, Overseer?” said March. “I think it was the weather, wasn’t it?”
“The device in the cargo hold of your ship,” said Carnow with annoyance, “that you stole from the Machinists.”
“Oh,” said March. “I think the weather would be more relevant.”
“We will state our demands simply,” said Carnow. “You shall surrender the device to us. You shall surrender the crewers you rescued from the Tamlin system to us. You will then be permitted to take your vessel and depart the Eschaton system.”
“What do I get in return?” said March.
Carnow’s organic eye blinked. March had the distinct impression that he annoyed her, which was good. Annoyed people, even annoyed people linked to the hive mind of the Machinists, did not make sound decisions. “You will be permitted to leave with your life.”
“You’re asking me to betray my nation and the military officers I have rescued,” said March. “You could at least offer me money. Or secrets. Or women. Or at least thirty pieces of silver.”
“That is traditional,” said Caird.
“Or the death of all my enemies,” said March. “I’ve seen how you lavished money and support on the various incompetent agents in your employ.” Lorre smirked at that. “And you’re not even offering me a bribe? Insulting.”
“This is not a negotiation,” snapped Carnow. “These are our demands. You will submit to them.”
“No, I won’t,” said March, glancing once more at the security drones. They seemed to have taken notice of the conversation. If he could just goad the Machinists into using a weapon, the security drones would fall on them like a hammer. Of course, there were all kinds of dangerous things the Machinists could do without drawing the Custodian’s ire. If Carnow and Lorre tried to force the issue, March could appeal to the Custodian for judgment, but it was entirely likely the alien AI would just kill them all.
“You will,” said Carnow. “Do not think me a fool…”
“Too late,” said March.
A flicker of fury went over her gray face, but she kept speaking. “I know any use of weapons will draw the attention of the alien AI that rules this system. But if we force you to walk with us, why, that requires to no weapons at all.” She gestured, and the Machinist soldiers stepped forward, spreading out in a half-circle. “You will come with us, or we will take you by force.”
“That so?” said March, his mind racing. The Machinist soldiers, in a contest of strength, could overpower him and Caird without much difficulty. The Marines in their power armor would be harder, but there were only three Marines. It seemed that March had no choice but to roll the dice and call on the Custodian…
“Humans!”
The alien voice was a flat, harsh rasp.
It was the voice of a Ninevehk.
“Aw, hell,” muttered one of the Marines. Rogan, March thought.
Nearly thirty Ninevehk approached, their clawed toes tapping against the metal deck. The Ninevehk were a saurian race, and according to the xenobiologists, they resembled a species of extinct saurian called a “velociraptor” that had once lived on primeval Earth. Each Ninevehk stood about a meter and a half tall and was three meters long, with a long, stiff tail to keep their balance as they ran. Pebbly scales of green and brown covered their bodies, and each of their feet had a four-inch long sickle-shaped claw that could cut through steel.
Those claws had no trouble slicing through human flesh and bone.
Their forelimbs ended in hands with three fingers, one thumb, and sharp claws. Their skulls were long and lizard-like, their mouths filled with fangs, and their unblinking yellow eyes slit with a single black pupil. The Ninevehk were armored, and all of them carried rifles. The guns were pointed at the floor since the security drones might take exception to weapons pointed at sapients.
One of the Ninevehk stepped forward. His armor was more elaborate than the others, and there was a red crest of rank on his helmet.
“What is your business here, alien?” said Carnow.
“I am Hunt Commander Tashnakha of the Imperial Ninevehk Fleet,” said the Ninevehk in a rasping, snarling voice. “Your vessels fled from us in the Tamlin system after we ordered you to surrender and submit to an inspection.”
“You have no cause to command the Final Consciousness, alien,” snapped Carnow. Lorre took a judicious step behind some of the armored soldiers. The Final Consciousness tried to conquer every human civilization within reach, but it exterminated any alien civilization that came within its power. To March’s knowledge, the Ninevehk Empire had fought several wars against the Machinists to an inconclusive result. Given how proud the Ninevehk were, and how their usual solution was to solve a dispute with violence, they might attack the Machinists here and now.
That could be useful. March and the others might be able to get away during the fight. Though the security drones might kill every Ninevehk and human in the fracas. They were unlikely to differentiate between unmodified human and Machinist. Though for that matter, March had enough cyborg parts that he might register on their sensors as a Machinist drone.
“We have every right to command you, cyborg,” said Tashnakha. “You have violated the sacred laws of the Ninevehk, and we have the right to detain you and search your ships.”
“And just what sacred laws are those, reptile?” said Carnow.
“You have consorted with demons,” said Tashnakha, “you and all of those joined to the Final Consciousness.”
March blinked in surprise. Demons? Maybe Tashnakha had meant the use of cybernetic implants. The Ninevehk did not use cybernetics, as far as he knew. He caught a glimpse of Lorre’s expression and saw the brief look of surprise that flickered over the Machinist agent’s face.
Lorre hadn’t liked that talk of demons. But why would a Machinist agent care about the religion of the Ninevehk?
Carnow, for her part, did not care in the slightest. She let out a long, derisive laugh. “Demons? You think to bind the Final Consciousness with your primiti
ve taboos and superstitions, reptile?”
“You have consorted with demons,” said Tashnakha. “The sacred law of the Ninevehk has forbidden consorting with demons since before our race attained spaceflight and the use of the hyperdrive. We shall not allow you to ally with demons.”
“Pathetic,” sneered Carnow. “Truly, your race is fit for nothing but extermination. You cling to your primitive religions like a child to its blanket. The Revolution of the Final Consciousness shall transcend all classes, shall end all obsolete social traditions. God does not exist, but we shall create him, for when all of humanity is joined in the Final Consciousness, then mankind shall become God at last.”
“Except for all those you kill,” said March, “because their bodies rejected the hive implant.”
“They were unworthy of ascension to the Final Consciousness,” said Carnow. “The weak, the fools, the reactionaries, the superstitious, all shall be cleansed, and humanity made perfect, an eternal God to rule over the universe for uncounted trillions of years. The Ninevehk and other backward races shall be cleansed. The Kingdom of Calaskar shall be burned to ashes, and its people joined to the Final Consciousness. The…”
“Overseer,” said Lorre. “While I do not question your devotion to the cause of the Final Consciousness…”
“What would you know?” said Carnow. “You are not even truly one of us. You…”
“While I do not question your devotion to the cause of the Final Consciousness,” said Lorre in the patient voice of a teacher correcting a wayward pupil, “I fear we are drifting from our purpose.”
“What?” said Carnow, and a flicker of chagrin went over her face. “Yes, of course.” Her attention swiveled back to March. “You will come with us, and you will surrender your stolen cargo to us.”
March caught a flash of white from the corner of his eye.
It was time to force the issue.
“No,” he said.
“You refuse us?”
“Are you deaf?” said March. “When the Machinists carved you up and turned you into their meat puppet, did they cut out your ears? No. We’re not giving you our cargo, and we’re not going with you.”
Carnow snarled and took a step forward. “We will compel…”
“How?” said March. “Just how are you going to force us?”
She took another step closer, as did the Machinist soldiers. “We shall force you to come with us, or…”
“Custodian!” shouted March at the top of his lungs. “I appeal to the Custodian for judgment! The Machinists are threatening me with violence and bodily harm! The security drones have witnessed the actions of the Machinist overseer and heard her words. I appeal to the Custodian for arbitration and judgment.”
“Well, shit,” said Lorre.
The hovering security drones flashed with green light, and suddenly a dozen more appeared over the confrontation, the bands around their equators glowing with harsh green energy. Carnow fell silent mid-tirade, and March glimpsed the dismay go across her features. She must have realized that March had goaded her into going a little too far.
Boots clicked against the metal deck, and March turned to see a slender figure in a pristine white uniform striding past the Ninevehk contingent, a pair of security drones floating after her.
Sophia Logos stopped in the center of the triangle formed by March, Carnow, and Tashnakha, and looked at each of them in turn.
She settled on Tashnakha. “Hunt Commander Tashnakha, remove yourself from his confrontation. This dispute between the Machinists and the Kingdom of Calaskar is none of your concern.”
“It is entirely our concern,” said Tashnakha. “The sacred law of the Ninevehk forbids consorting with demons and their works, and the Machinists have flouted that law. We will destroy them for it. Your own master ought to appreciate the danger. Was the Custodian not built by the ancient races of old?”
“Nevertheless,” said Logos.
Tashnakha let out a rumbling snarl. “In deference to the Custodian’s authority, we will not force action here. But we will monitor the situation.” He growled an order to his warriors, and the Ninevehk turned and left the concourse, their claws rasping against the metal deck.
“And you, Overseer Carnow,” said Logos.
“Do not meddle in affairs which are none of your concern,” said Carnow.
“I am the Emissary of the Custodian,” said Logos with cool poise. “Both Monastery Station and the Eschaton system are under the control of the Custodian, so anything that happens here is of concern to the Custodian, and therefore, of concern to me. You have already violated the Custodian’s rules by engaging in space combat in the Eschaton system.”
“The loss of that destroyer,” said Carnow, “shall be avenged. The Final Consciousness does not forget its enemies.”
“No, it won’t,” said Logos. “And what the Final Consciousness remembers is of no consequence. You will engage in no further disruptions aboard Monastery Station.”
“The Custodian,” said Carnow, her voice dripping with contempt. “The Custodian is nothing more than an ancient relic, a sputtering remnant of a long-dead civilization. The Final Consciousness shall exceed the Custodian utterly, and one day we shall dismantle the wretched computer that rules this system.”
Lorre sighed again and tucked the scanner unit into his jacket. Either he had found what he had been looking for, or it wasn’t here.
“Not even the Custodian can see the future,” said Logos, “but the Custodian is the one with rail guns pointed at your capital starships.” She smiled and waved a hand at the metal spheres floating overhead. “The Custodian is also the one with the security drones surrounding you. I suggest, Overseer, that you keep yourself and your men under tight control.”
“Do not think to threaten me, harlot,” said Carnow.
“Harlot?” said Logos, bemused. “I’m not. And if I was, you couldn’t afford me.”
Caird laughed at that, which only seemed to make Carnow angrier.
“You would be unworthy of joining the Final Consciousness,” said Carnow. “You whore yourself out to the ancient computer of a long-dead civilization. Your time will come. The Custodian’s time will come.”
“I advise you to leave the concourse,” said Logos. “Those are becoming dangerously close to threats.”
Carnow sneered once more and turned, and in unison, the Machinist officers and soldiers followed her as she stalked away. Lorre looked at March for a moment, and then inclined his head, like the nod of acknowledgment a boxer gave his opponent before starting the fight.
Then he followed the Machinists, and March watched as he left Commercial Concourse Seven.
“Well,” said Caird. “Wasn’t that a pleasant chat?”
Chapter 6: Hunters
Vasquez snorted. “You have a strange idea of pleasant conversation, Commander.”
“He really does,” said Elizabeth. No one but March and Caird heard her.
But to March’s surprise, Logos glanced in Elizabeth’s direction. Could she see the macrobe? It did seem likely that the Custodian knew all about the Navigators. Perhaps it even knew how they were created, and had given its human servants the ability to see them.
“Captain March,” said Logos, her blue eyes turning toward him. “You have a gift for finding trouble.”
“I don’t find trouble, Emissary,” said March. “It finds me. Overseer Carnow and her men and Hunt Commander Tashnakha and his men initiated the confrontation. My companions and I did nothing to escalate it, and…”
Logos waved a hand. “I know. The confrontation was monitored from the moment it began. Twenty-three separate observers called it in. It is well known that the Custodian does not permit violence on Monastery Station. Do not be concerned, though. You were peacefully going about your business and obtaining necessary parts and technicians to repair your vessel.”
March inclined his head. “I’m glad the Custodian understands.”
“Very little happens on Mo
nastery Station or within Eschaton system of which the Custodian is unaware,” said Logos. She gazed at him for a moment, and March looked back without blinking. She was an attractive woman, and he was annoyed that he was very aware of that fact. It might distract him from his mission. “You seem to have caught the Custodian’s interest, Captain March.”
“Have I?” said March. “That’s too bad. I’m very unremarkable. I’m sorry the Custodian is so bored.”
Logos smiled. “It is unusual for the Machinists to act so forcefully in the Eschaton system. They hate and fear the Custodian, of course, and so are usually better behaved when within range of the rail guns.” She paused for a moment. “Whatever device you have in your cargo hold must be valuable indeed.”
March thought about that. He hadn’t considered the possibility that the Custodian might decide to take the device for itself. If the AI wanted to do that, there was no way March could stop it. That wouldn’t be the worst outcome. He wouldn’t get the device to the Admiralty and the Ministry of Defense, but the Machinists wouldn’t get it back either, and March could at least bring the scan data of the device back to Calaskar.
“Can I be honest with you, Emissary Logos?” said March.
“I would prefer it, Captain March,” said Logos, leaning a little closer. He caught a whiff of her perfume – something subtle and understated. He found that he liked the smell.
“The thing in my cargo hold,” he said. “I have no idea what it is.”
“Dangerous,” said Logos. “That’s what it is.” She stepped back. “Good fortune, Captain March. The Custodian will be keeping an eye on you.”
She turned and walked off. March found his eyes drawn towards her backside, and he grimaced and looked away.
“Great,” said March.
“I think she does like you,” said Caird.
“Good God, that was a close one,” said Vasquez. “I was sure we were all going to die.”
“No,” said March. “You did well holding your fire. If we had starting shooting first, the Custodian would have killed us all.” He looked at Caird and Elizabeth. “Doesn’t matter then if the Emissary likes me or not.”
Silent Order: Wraith Hand Page 9