by Tim Waggoner
After a few drinks and several more threats, Glasgow had finally told her about Mudo’s new toy. It hadn’t taken her any time at all after that to get Glasgow to call Adams and politely but firmly insist that she be allowed to go along on the Janus’s maiden voyage.
Of course, Kyoto was going, too, but that was something she’d just have to live with. Besides, if all went well, she’d have the opportunity to make little miss butch starfighter pilot look like the no-talent nobody that she truly was. By the time this jaunt was over, Syscom would make a vid about Aspen’s adventures in hyperspace, and this time she’d get to play herself. Six months—a year, tops—and no one would remember or care who Mei Kyoto was. Assuming that the Manti didn’t destroy the Solar Colonies first. But then, life was full of gambles, wasn’t it?
Aspen had managed to narrow her wardrobe options down to seventeen suits, twelve blouses, and thirty-one pairs of shoes when the roomcomp announced, “You have a visitor at the front door, Ms. DeFonesca.”
“Whoever it is, tell them to go away. I’ve got some serious packing to do.” Even using molecular compression cases, she wasn’t certain that she’d be able to fit all she wanted to take. She was going to be allowed only two cases. Something silly about carting along extra weight during space travel. She should run various packing scenarios through the comp and see which—
“My apologies, Ms. DeFonesca, but the visitor won’t leave. He says his name is Seth Ganymede, and he has information he wishes to share with you on an exclusive basis.”
Though Seth Ganymede wasn’t on the B List, let alone the A, Aspen still might have been interested in hearing what he had to say. But she had so much work to do before morning. She considered fobbing Ganymede off on one of her less-talented colleagues (which was all of them), but then again, if Ganymede did have something juicy for her, how good would it look if she got the story tonight, on the eve of her greatest story? Aspen could pull a twofer that would make all the other talking heads at Syscom grind their cosmetically enhanced teeth to nubs out of jealousy.
And Ganymede had said the magic word: exclusive.
“Very well. Verify his identity, and if he checks out, let him in.”
Aspen was dressed in a red satin robe and momentarily gave some thought to putting on something more professional. But she decided against it. Not only did she look fantastic in this robe, but if she did tape an impromptu interview with Ganymede, wearing the robe—especially if she allowed it to peek open now and again—would be sure to boost ratings.
She left her bedroom, and walked down the hall and into the main living space. Ganymede was already inside—admitted by the AI, of course—and was standing in the foyer.
“Mr. Ganymede’s identity confirmed, Aspen.”
She frowned. This was the first time her home AI had ever called her by her first name. Aspen didn’t believe in allowing AIs to address her that way; it was creepy, she thought. She almost rebuked it, but she didn’t want to argue in front in her guest, especially with a computer program. She’d take care of the AI later.
As she approached Ganymede, she put on a smile—not one of her killer smiles, the kind that would make men fall down at her feet and vow undying devotion, but still a pretty good one.
“I almost didn’t recognize you without your robe with that delightfully tacky galaxy holo on it. What’s wrong, love? Get it soiled during today’s protest?”
Ganymede didn’t return her smile, and this puzzled Aspen. Everyone smiled when she did. It was a simple fact of her existence.
She stopped in front of Ganymede, put a hand on her hip, and allowed her robe to drop open a few centimeters to put him off balance. “My AI says you have a story for me.”
“A story? No. But I do have something to give you.”
Before she could move, Ganymede gripped the back of her neck and held her motionless. She was so surprised—she was used to being touched but always on her terms—that for a moment she didn’t struggle, just stood and watched as he brought up his other hand and slid the first two fingers into her mouth.
My God! She’d always thought Ganymede and the other Bounders were a bit off, but she hadn’t imagined that he was a full-fledged pervert! Still, that might not be so bad. He wasn’t an Adonis, but he wasn’t repulsive, either—and she was going on a potentially dangerous journey tomorrow. It might be fun to have her own little going-away party…
But then a strange metallic taste flooded her mouth, as if she’d just taken a gulp of warm liquid ferroceramic.
“I’m sorry about this, Ms. DeFonesca,” Ganymede said. “But I need to borrow your identity for a time. The future of your race may well depend on it.”
Aspen had no idea what the lunatic was talking about, and she didn’t care. All she knew was that the metallic taste was getting stronger, and the liquid or whatever it was running down her throat was becoming thicker. She fought to pull free of Ganymede’s grip, to force his hand out of her mouth—anything! But nothing she did worked. Ganymede’s body was as hard and unyielding as stone.
“Please don’t be afraid,” Ganymede said in a tone of genuine concern. “The nanoparticles that are presently infiltrating your system will do no harm to you. They will merely put you to sleep for a while. You will rest comfortably, and they will see to all your body’s needs while you slumber. The nanoparticles will wake you in two weeks, regardless of whether or not I return. You may feel somewhat weak and disoriented when you awaken, but that will be the full extent of your discomfort, I assure you.”
Aspen didn’t follow everything Ganymede had said, but one thing was clear: the sonofabitch was injecting her with some kind of nanotech. She kicked and punched, but even though her blows landed solidly enough, Ganymede didn’t seem to notice them.
A pleasant numbness began to filter though her body then, warm and comforting. Tiny soft voices in her head urged her not to resist, to give in and let them take care of her. It was so tempting to surrender to the overall sensation of pleasant nothingness that coursed through her limbs, but she fought to hold on. Whatever was happening to her, she knew there was a hell of a story in it.
She started thinking of all the questions she would ask Ganymede once he did her the courtesy of removing his fingers from her mouth, but her vision began to grow black, and a loving, caring darkness came for her, and she no longer wanted to resist it.
Hastimukah carried the unconscious form of Aspen DeFonesca to her bedroom and tucked her beneath the covers. According to transmissions from the nanoparticles he’d put inside her, her vital signs were strong.
Hastimukah looked down upon Aspen’s sleeping face. Though he currently resembled a human on the outside, inside he remained an alien. From what he understood, Aspen was reputed to be most attractive by her race’s standards, but he couldn’t see it. Give him a good thick coat of fur and a large pair of ears anytime.
He turned away from Aspen and walked over to the holodisplay in the corner of her bedroom. Before entering her quarters, Hastimukah had used some nanoparticles to take control of the comp system. The AI would now obey his commands, and his only.
“What was she doing?” he asked.
“Trying to decide what to take with her for tomorrow’s trip.”
Hastimukah’s species had fur and tough padded feet. They tended to go about without clothing, except on ceremonial occasions and when dealing with other races that had taboos against nudity. Even then, they wore only the most rudimentary of outfits, such as short-sleeved tunics or kilts. Hastimukah had no idea how humans chose their clothing, though he imagined that, as in most cultures, it was some blend of personal taste and societal standards.
He sighed. It looked like he had some homework ahead of him. “Computer, access vid footage of Aspen DeFonesca for the last month. Display a random sampling of still images of her during that time, please.”
As Aspen’s AI worked to fulfill Hastimukah’s request, he heard a soft chiming sound ringing in his ears. Kryllian was contacting hi
m via the nanocolony that lived in his body.
“Hastimukah here,” he said aloud. Nanoparticles relayed Kryllian’s message by directly stimulating the structures of his inner ear.
“This is Kryllian. Ship’s sensors indicate you have released a large amount of self-replicating nanoparticles into a human for the purpose of short-term stasis. What’s the reason for this? Don’t you already have a disguise?”
“I do,” Hastimukah replied. “But the identity of Seth Ganymede is no longer useful for my purpose, and thus I need to assume another.”
There was a pause, and Hastimukah knew Kryllian was mulling over his response. The Grindani weren’t exactly the fastest thinkers in the Residuum.
“Of what purpose do you speak?”
“Tomorrow, the humans are going to test a new hyperdrive they’ve developed. I intend to be on that ship when they do, and taking on the appearance of Aspen DeFonesca will get me onboard.”
“Why is this necessary? Does the Kyoto woman no longer have the nanoparticles you deposited on her?”
When Hastimukah had grabbed Kyoto’s wrist in the arboretum, he had done so not only to establish a mental connection so that they might share the virtual scenes he had wished to show her, but also so he could leave behind some of his nanocolony to spy on her. He had known that she’d go straight to General Adams after he revealed the truth about himself and the existence of the Residuum. Thanks to his nanoparticles, he had seen and heard everything that she, Adams, and Mudo had talked about. He had learned about the Janus and the scheduled test flight, and he had learned that Aspen DeFonesca had managed to obtain a seat on board for tomorrow’s journey. Only now, that seat would be his.
“Kyoto’s nanoparticles are still in place,” Hastimukah said. “But once the humans’ ship has crossed over into hyperspace, we will lose contact with them. If we wish to learn more about the human’s technological capabilities, then I will have to go along in person.”
“I do not care about this ship,” Kryllian said. “Either the humans have proved themselves worthy of being part of the Residuum or they haven’t. And if they haven’t…”
“I am the chief assessor on this mission, Captain, and I will be the one to make the final recommendation to the Ascendancy regarding the humans’ status. Do not forget this.”
A longer pause this time. When Kryllian spoke again, his voice was tight with barely controlled anger. “Of course, Chief Assessor. And what do you wish The Eye of Dardanus to do while you are away?”
“Continue to monitor this system for signs of Manti activity and the humans’ response to it. But do not engage the Manti directly unless they penetrate the ship’s stealth shield and attack.”
“Understood.”
“If I have not reported back to you within two weeks, you are to contact the Ascendancy for further instructions.”
“As you wish, Assessor.”
There was another soft chiming sound, and Hastimukah knew that Kryllian had broken their link. Hastimukah had no idea why the Grindan had been assigned to this mission. The captain lacked the patience necessary to make a successful first contact. Though the Residuum had clear guidelines for which civilizations could be approached and which couldn’t, those guidelines quickly became blurred in the field. Some cases came down to a judgment call on an assessor’s part, and right now, Hastimukah didn’t feel that he had enough information to make a final decision. Considering the stakes were nothing less than the survival of the human species, he was determined to learn all he could before rendering his judgment. The Janus’s mission could very well be the turning point for humanity—one way or the other. Therefore, he had to be on that ship tomorrow, even if it meant staying up all night and selecting a wardrobe.
He looked at the holodisplay and sighed. “Computer, please repeat the images I asked you to gather a few moments ago, only go more slowly this time. And if you have any suggestions, I’d appreciate hearing them.”
As the holoscreen displayed one picture of an impeccably dressed Aspen DeFonesca after another, the nanocolony within Hastimukah’s body began the process of altering his appearance. By morning, he would no longer be Seth Ganymede; he’d be Aspen DeFonesca—or at least a reasonable facsimile.
Assuming, that is, he could find something decent to wear.
Kryllian, captain of the Residuum vessel called The Eye of Dardanus, shifted in his command chair and waited while it molded to his form. Because so many different sentient species were represented in the Residuum—347 at last count—all with different physiognomies, it made no sense to create furniture or workstations designed for a single body type. Thus, all facilities on the Dardanus were malleable according to an individual’s needs. Still, given the combined technological know-how of so many races, Kryllian was at a loss to explain why chairs always took several seconds to adjust after you moved, and why they never felt quite comfortable even then.
The command center of the Dardanus bustled with activity as crew members of various species attended to their duties. Most were busy analyzing data gathered from the humans’ star system and their colonies, but others were performing continual sensor sweeps to check for Manti activity. There were no records of the Manti being able to penetrate a Residuum starcraft’s stealth shield, but there was always a first time. And every member race in the Residuum knew from bitter experience that the cost of letting one’s guard down against the Manti was death.
Kryllian was in a foul mood. His species, the Grindani, had evolved from small ocean-dwelling crustaceans on a world of slightly heavier gravity than Residuum-norm. The nanocolony that shared his body was supposed to adjust for the difference in gravity, as well as draw enough moisture from the air to keep his internal organs hydrated. But he suspected the nanoparticles within him needed to be recalibrated, for he felt out of sorts.
Then again, perhaps his mood was due to the fact that the Assessor he’d been assigned to ferry to this primitive star system was a gigantic pain in the telson.
“Captain, how fares Hastimukah?”
Kryllian turned to see his first officer approach the command chair. Suletu was a Huata, one of the races that had founded the Residuum. Suletu was a sentient being composed entirely of billions upon billions of nanoparticles. He/she/it (Kryllian wasn’t sure which designation to use since the Huata didn’t employ personal pronouns) resembled a mound of ambulatory gray sludge, but could change form to fit whatever task was required.
“The idiot is too softhearted,” Kryllian said. “It is obvious that the species native to this system is not ready to join the Residuum. The Manti attacked them again today, and despite having had two of their years to prepare for the day they would once again face their enemy, they did nothing. Not only are they not worthy of joining us, I’m not certain they are worthy of survival at all.”
“Forgive Suletu, Captain, if Suletu says that your assessment sounds somewhat… harsh.”
Kryllian’s maxilliped quivered—the Grindani equivalent of a shrug. “Perhaps. But life was very difficult on my homeworld even before the coming of the Manti. Only the strongest of the strong managed to survive. My people do not believe in deities, but we do live by the principle of survival of the fittest. We believe that those species who are fit enough to survive are those who are destined to survive. Isn’t that one of the Residuum’s guiding philosophies?”
“It is. But all of our races have bonded together for mutual survival, have we not? Without one another, how long would any of us survive against the Manti?”
Kryllian didn’t respond.
Suletu continued. “It is sometimes difficult to know when a species has matured to the point where it is ready to be a fully contributing member of the Residuum. When it will add to our combined chances for survival instead of detract from them. This is why we have assessors, is it not? To make such determinations.”
Kryllian’s brown carapace turned a bright pink—a sign of irritation. Because Huata were comprised of billions of individual nano
particles, each in its own way self-aware, they were highly skilled at communication and conflict resolution. They had to be just to function day in and day out. These qualities usually cast them in the role of peacekeepers within the Residuum, but Kryllian thought this made the Huata often act as if they believed they were intellectually superior to the rest of the member races, and it chafed his rostrum.
“Perhaps so,” Kryllian finally allowed. “But I do not approve of Hastimukah’s current actions. I believe he has overstepped the bounds of his mandate in accompanying the humans on their expedition into hyperspace, and I am confident the Ascendancy will share my view.”
“Then it is fortunate for Hastimukah that our leaders are not aware of his plans,” Suleta said.
“Ah, but they will be – just as soon as you establish a communications link with them for me.”
Suletu hesitated, and Kryllian thought the Huata was going to disobey his command. But then it inclined the top portion of its mass, as if bowing, and said, “As you wish.” Suleta then began slithering toward the comm workstation.
Kyrllian’s race didn’t possess the anatomy to smile, but his antennae waved gently back and forth in pleasurable anticipation of the conversation he was about to have.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
“Everyone secure?” Kyoto asked.
“I’m fine,” Mudo snapped. “Ms. DeFonesca is fine. Memory is fine, and you’re fine, too. Can we just take off, please?”
Kyoto did her best to ignore Mudo. The scientist had grown increasingly irritable as the morning wore on. But while he was technically in command of this mission, Kyoto hadn’t been about to lift off without first familiarizing herself with the Janus’s controls and going over the course Mudo had programmed into the nav system. Her preparations had taken less than thirty minutes, but Mudo was ready to climb the Janus’s walls, and likely would have been doing so if he hadn’t been buckled into his seat.