The Prodigal Sun
Page 34
“Auberon,” interrupted De Bruyn sharply, shaking her head. Then, more smoothly, she added, “Let the girl speak.”
“Yes,” put in Absenger. “We’ll never get anywhere if you carry on like this.” Fixing Roche with a warm but exaggerated smile, he said, “Clearly this situation is of no benefit to anyone, Commander. So please, let’s see if we can’t sort everything out.”
Roche opened her mouth, about to protest that it wasn’t the outburst of the head of Intelligence that caused her reticence but a simple lack of knowledge. Before she could, however, someone spoke up behind her, from the entrance to the conference room.
“She’s telling the truth.”
Roche turned. Standing in the doorway was Ameidio Haid. With the faintest nod in her direction, he strode confidently into the room, his calm demeanor generating an air of authority.
“We used her image to make that call,” he said as he approached. “Seeing she was unconscious at the time, we had no choice.”
“What?” Chase’s eyes flickered from Haid to Roche, searching for the connection between the two. “What’s going on here?”
“That’s entirely up to you.” Haid took a seat on the opposite side of the room and crossed his legs, to all appearances completely at ease. Roche noted the tautness of his muscles beneath the simple black uniform, however, and suspected that he was far from relaxed. “What’s your preference?” he said. “An honest and open discussion, or a witch hunt?”
“This is preposterous,” the head of Intelligence spluttered. “I refuse to be a part of any discussion involving someone of your ilk, Haid. A criminal, a barbarian, a traitor—!”
“You remember me, then,” Haid interjected with some amusement. “But don’t kid yourself, Auberon; we really aren’t that much different from one another.” Before the man could respond, Haid’s expression became grave, the humor draining from his tone. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we? We have a few things we need to discuss.”
Chase’s face turned grey with rage.
“Of course.” Burne Absenger took a position around the holographic tank, his heavy frame sinking easily into the contoured chair. Page De Bruyn hesitated a moment, then followed his lead, although her posture remained stiffly upright. Roche sat opposite Haid, where she could watch him through the hologram of Intelligence HQ. Chase remained standing until Absenger caught his eye and gestured sharply for him to sit.
The head of Strategy sank into a seat at random. “Do we have any choice?”
“To be honest,” said Haid, “no, not anymore. However, the choice to come out to meet us was your own. Ours was merely an invitation.”
“You have an interesting way of greeting your guests,” said De Bruyn dryly.
Haid shrugged. “You were asked to come alone. And unarmed.”
De Bruyn snorted. “You couldn’t expect us to simply walk onto an enemy vessel without any protection.”
“Nor you expect us to allow an armed platoon to march aboard.”
“Which your troops dealt with easily enough,” said Chase with more than a trace of bitterness. “What are they? Mercenaries like yourself?”
“No. They’re drones,” Haid explained. “Or remotes, if you like.” He gestured to the nearest Dato trooper, who instantly raised a gauntleted hand to open the black visor.
The helmet inside was empty.
Haid’s smile widened at the response from his small audience: the in-drawn breaths and sudden stiffening of postures.
“Eyes and ears in the service of the one behind that message we sent. The one who sent me here—to clear the air.”
Roche stared at the empty armor in amazement, then turned to face Haid. “You mean the Box, don’t you?”
“Who else?” he said. “Who did you think was running this ship?” He laughed lightly. “Certainly not me.”
“I’d assumed the Dato—”
“They’re currently in the main airlock holding bay with De Bruyn’s squad, waiting to be shipped to HQ.” Haid shook his head. “Did you really believe we’d join forces with the Dato Bloc to betray you and the Armada? Morgan, we despise them almost as much as we despise the three people sitting with us now.”
That brought an immediate response from Chase, but one less vicious than Roche had expected.
“How much do you know?” asked the head of Intelligence, studying Haid narrowly.
“Enough,” said Haid. “Enough to see you face a court-martial, Chase. Not that I have any faith in the Commonwealth’s judicial system.”
“Wait a minute,” said Absenger, raising a hand. “You’re going much too fast for me. When you say that ‘the Box’ is running this ship, surely you can’t mean the AI attached to the commander’s arm here?”
“Why not?” said Haid. “It’s perfectly suited to the task.”
“But how? I mean, it seems hard to believe that...” Absenger glanced at De Bruyn. “Surely this Box is nothing more than a communications AI commissioned to replace one in the Armada network?”
“The Box is much more than a ‘communications AI,’“ said Haid, “no matter what you say. It’s designed with the express purpose of infiltrating and ultimately corrupting Dato intelligent systems, such as those that run this ship, or the combat armor you see before you. That’s what you ordered from Trinity, and that’s what they built.” His gaze shifted suddenly. “Isn’t that right, De Bruyn?”
The head of Strategy looked uncomfortable for a moment, then exchanged another glance with Absenger. “We wanted something that could infiltrate Dato security from the inside.”
Haid nodded. “And that’s what you got—and more.” He looked at Roche and noticed the slight wince on her face. “Don’t feel too bad, Morgan. I didn’t work it out myself, either. When you let me open the datalink, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. That damned machine is a maze of security probes and countertraps; given a century, uninterrupted, I might have come close to guessing what it was for. In the end, I didn’t crack the Box; it cracked me. It needed another ally, and I was the one it chose.”
“To do what?” said Roche.
“To help the two of you off the planet, basically. And to gain access to data processors powerful enough for it to discover its full potential.”
Roche absorbed this for a moment, sensing an unspoken implication in his words. “You said another ally?”
“That’s right. Adoni Cane was the first. That’s why it let him out of the Midnight’s brig and made sure he reached you before the Dato attacked.”
Roche gaped. “The Box did that?”
“Of course. I told you there was something screwy about all that. The Box could see what was coming, and made sure you had at least an even chance of surviving.”
“Who is this ‘Adoni Cane’?” said Absenger.
“This is ridiculous!” Chase snapped. “I can’t believe we’re discussing Commonwealth secrets with these people—”
“Be quiet, Auberon,” said De Bruyn, her eyes dangerous.
Haid watched the brief interaction with some amusement, and Roche suddenly realized how well he was playing them against each other. Absenger, the politician, the smooth talker; Chase, the reactionary hothead; and De Bruyn, perhaps the most dangerous of the three, sharp and coldly calculating.
“Adoni Cane is a genetically modified combat soldier,” Haid said, as casually as though discussing the weather. “The Midnight plucked him from a life support capsule located by its beacon eight days before arriving at Sciacca’s World. The ship’s surgeons examined him in situ, but didn’t have time to contact HQ. The data they collected then, plus more from our own examinations on Port Parvati, makes for very interesting reading.”
The viewtank’s image of Intelligence HQ vanished and was replaced with a three-dimensional scan of Cane, segmented in places to reveal his inner organs. Lines of data scrolled down the corners of the tank, listing metabolic rates, genetic comparisons, cellular structures, neural connections...
; Roche studied it in disbelief. This was much more detailed than she’d seen in the rebels’ headquarters. How Haid had managed to get hold of the Midnight’s data was beyond her.
Then she realized: the Box again, although why it had gone to the trouble to save the data, then keep it a secret from her and the rebels, remained unknown. For the moment, curiosity about Cane overrode that about the Box.
She could see, now, where the survival capsule had been physically grafted to him at stomach, throat, and thighs via circular wounds that had healed within days of his emergence. The Midnight’s chief surgeon’s tentative conclusion was that he had indeed been grown in the capsule and subsequently given a basic knowledge of language and movement by implanted educators. Given the condition of his tissue and the lack of radiation damage suffered while in deep space, Cane appeared to be roughly one year old, although his mental age was far above that. The obvious conclusion was that, although the capsule had drifted for at least a year before being found, the timing of its discovery had been carefully planned. Even with the capsule’s sophisticated organic vats, only superficially examined on the Midnight, Human tissue could not have been sustained unharmed for longer than a month or two.
Cane, therefore, wasn’t an innocent cast adrift by some unknown tragedy, lying dormant in the capsule waiting to be rescued. He had been built for a purpose by someone who had wanted him to be found. Now. The only question that remained unanswered was: how long had the capsule been drifting before it brought him into being?
No one else in the room seemed ready to ask the obvious questions—questions she had asked back on Sciacca’s World—so she spoke for them:
“To what end?”
The answer came from an unexpected quarter.
“To purge the Commonwealth and its neighbors of Pristine Humanity, of course,” said Page De Bruyn, her voice hushed. “To wreak revenge on the descendants of the people who destroyed the creators of such creatures. Adoni Cane is a Clone Wunderkind, courtesy of the Sol Apotheosis Movement.”
“Another one?” said Chase, his face pale.
“It was always a possibility,” said Absenger grimly.
“Will someone please tell me what you’re talking about?” said Roche.
Absenger sighed heavily and opened his hands. “Twenty-five days ago, a similar capsule also containing a single occupant was retrieved by the courier vessel Daybreak not far from one of our systems. Daybreak’s captain had time to report the discovery, but little else. Before she could transmit a detailed report, all communication ceased and the ship disappeared. Two days later, Daybreak reappeared, broadcasting an emergency beacon. The commanding officer of the nearest military base sent out a tug to rendezvous, and took it in for repairs. Not long after, we received garbled messages that the base was under attack—then that too fell silent. By the time the Armada sent a battalion to investigate, the entire system was in flames.”
“None of this was on IDnet,” Roche said.
“You covered it up,” said Haid, speaking not in response to her question but to De Bruyn. “Possibly the greatest threat the COE has ever faced, and you tried to sweep it under the rug.”
“We didn’t know what had happened,” protested De Bruyn. “It could have been anything: rebellion, disease, war. We had no way of knowing. But we had to enforce a quarantine to keep people out, to prevent more deaths.”
“Palasian System,” said Roche, finally making the connection.
Absenger nodded. “It was only after the battalion arrived that we managed to piece together what had happened: that some kind of modified warrior had single-handedly taken control of Daybreak and gone berserk in the system.”
“How many of the battalion made it back?” asked Haid.
De Bruyn grimaced. “Of twenty ships, only one survived. And from the pictures brought back, not much was left of the system. Now”—she shrugged helplessly— “who knows?”
Roche reeled at the thought. “You’re suggesting that one person did this?”
“We’re not talking about a person, Commander,” said Absenger. “This is a genetically enhanced being—a Wunderkind—capable of anything.”
“And now we have two of them,” said Chase, his thin face even paler than before.
“You think Cane—?” She stopped in mid-sentence, staring at the image rotating in the viewtank. “I can’t believe it.”
“What can’t you believe, Commander?” said De Bruyn. “That he’s capable of such destruction, or that he would?”
Roche shook her head. “Both, I guess.”
“Morgan,” said Haid, “you’ve seen how Cane fights person-to-person. Imagine him with a ship, or in control of a major weapons array; imagine how much more destructive he could be. If the Wunderkind in the Palasian System has the same potential as Cane”—he too shrugged—”then I don’t find it difficult to believe at all.”
“But that means he’s been drifting for almost three thousand years!”
“Not him; just the capsule.” Absenger’s grim expression showed no satisfaction at correcting her. “He can’t come from anywhere else, Roche. No one designed combat clones quite like the Sol engineers, and according to our records ‘Adoni Cane’ was the name of the commander of the fleet that confronted them—the man whose orders led to their destruction. It’s a deliberate jibe at their enemies; one that’s taken a long time to hit home, but a jibe all the same.”
“The prodigal son returns,” Chase muttered.
Absenger leaned forward. “Yet Cane actually helped the Box?”
“And Roche, too,” Haid said, turning from Roche to face the liaison officer. “Particularly Roche, for whatever reason.”
“That does seem unlikely,” mused Absenger. “Perhaps Cane and the Palasian Wunderkind aren’t exactly the same thing, after all. You said that Cane’s capsule was broadcasting some sort of beacon, whereas the first—”
“That’s not what I said,” Haid interrupted. “I said that a beacon had led the Midnight to it.”
De Bruyn’s brow creased. “The same thing, surely?”
“Not quite,” said Haid. “You see, the beacon was faked.”
De Bruyn’s frown deepened. “By whom?”
Haid smiled. “Before I answer that, why don’t you explain to Roche why you were so surprised to receive that message we sent you yesterday?”
The sudden change in direction took the three Armada officers off guard. Roche noted the tightening of De Bruyn’s jaw muscles as she fumbled for the words.
“I—” Her face flushed as she glanced from Absenger to Chase. “Her method of arrival was somewhat unorthodox, and—”
Haid laughed at her discomfort. “You people really have a problem with the truth, don’t you?” he said, settling back into his chair and resting his one arm across his lap. “Perhaps I can shed some light on things, then, by way of explaining about the attack on the Midnight.”
Whatever game he was playing, Roche thought, he was clearly enjoying himself immensely.
“I’ll omit the details of the ambush, if you like. No doubt you can imagine them for yourselves, seeing it went pretty much as you hoped it would when you leaked the Midnight’s course to the Dato Espionage Corps. Everything went according to plan, except of course that Roche and the Box managed to escape the destruction of the Midnight, and made it as far as the surface of the planet before—”
“Wait a second!” Roche gasped, rising to her feet as his words sunk in. “They did what?”
Haid’s eye met hers through the shimmering viewtank. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Morgan, but they obviously weren’t going to. They sold you out. Your mission wasn’t, as you thought, to bring the Box back to HQ for installation. Instead, it was to be captured by the Dato and taken to the Military Presidium. That’s why they were so surprised to see you here: you weren’t supposed to return.”
Roche stared from Chase to De Bruyn, then to Absenger. Only the last met her gaze, and he seemed almost amused by her
outrage.
“Is this true?” she asked him, fearing the answer even as she said the words.
“Of course it isn’t,” he said quickly—almost too quickly.
Roche closed her eyes; any other time, she might have been glad to hear from the young Surin, but not now. “I know,” she whispered irritably.
“Good,” said Absenger. “Then you will also know that the man is clearly paranoid. Quite perceptive in some ways, I’ll admit, but—”
“I wasn’t talking to you, you sonofabitch!”
Absenger flinched perceptibly. His voice was cold when he spoke. “Commander Roche, must I remind you—?”
“If you’re going to tell me that I should show some respect to senior officers, then save your breath.” All the frustration she’d felt on Sciacca’s World, all the lengths she’d gone to to complete her mission—every action she’d taken on COE Intelligence’s behalf boiled within her, perverted and twisted into a hideous farce. “Save it for telling me why you did it.”
“If you think I’m going to explain myself to—”
“The Box,” Haid cut in, “was designed to infiltrate the Dato from within, as Page said earlier.” He leaned forward to emphasize every word, peering through the hologram at Roche. “I was hoping you’d guess, and save me having to spell it out for you. The Box was no use at all to COE Intelligence back here. So they chose a disposable old frigate with a disposable captain, and put a disposable agent in charge of the mission.”
“This is ridiculous!” blurted out Chase as he stood. “This man is lying!”
“I won’t tell you again, Auberon.” De Bruyn’s voice was even and quiet.
Chase stared down at her. “Why should we listen to the slander of criminals?”
“I said be quiet!” De Bruyn’s icy and unflinching glare held the man for a full ten seconds until he finally looked away and sat back in his chair.