Only Human

by Chris Reher

  "This is a Union installation and it is against Union policy to own slaves, no matter how common the practice is elsewhere."

  "Even abolitionists do not object to our labor force! I do not deal in slaves!"

  "We have classified them as sentients and they are therefore slaves," Carras said firmly, knowing that Deleo also dealt in true slaves, such as were abducted from Magra, Bellac Tau, K'lar and Shaddallam.

  Shaddallam! Why were Nova and Tychon not sending reports? Two days ago they had used a relay placed at the nearest jumpsite and transmitted updates. Since then, only Vanguard One had reported in with news about rebel activity on Shaddallam but nothing conclusive about the boy. Where was Vanguard Seven?

  "If it is a matter of financing, we can arrange excellent terms."

  Carras felt himself reach the boiling point when he heard a discreet knock on the door. "Enter!"

  His aide approached him with a sidelong glance at the slave trader. "I'm sorry, Colonel," he said. He would have found something with which to interrupt this meeting even if his message had not been of the utmost importance, given Carras' feelings toward slave traders and salesmen in general. Slaves on Targon, indeed!

  "Quite all right, we have concluded our business," Carras said, his eyes on Deleo.

  His aide bent to murmur into his ear.

  Carras suppressed his shock. "Mr. Deleo," he said curtly. "Do not let me keep you any longer. It has been a pleasure to meet with you." The Colonel rose from behind his desk and hurried after his aide, leaving the baffled trader to gather his notes and catalog tapes.

  "Why was I not informed, Soto?" Carras stormed along the hall, buttoning the collar of his uniform. His aide hurried after him with his gun belt, as necessary as the polished insignia on the Colonel's sleeve.

  "Erato only dropped into normal space a few minutes ago, sir. We were not advised of her arrival. Security measures, I was told."

  "Doesn't anyone use charts anymore?" Carras barely waited for him to clear the doors into the lift shaft. "Who's Erato's commander now?"

  "Lieutenant Colonel McDougall, sir. He has requested a clear flight path."

  "At least someone's thinking!"

  "Yessir," Soto said. Erato had come in without a whisper. When the reasons for the battleship's sudden appearance were questioned, a coded message arrived that Baroch, one of the Ten Factors, was aboard. Baroch on a battleship! On Targon! Soto barely contained his curiosity.

  "Shall I order a security detachment?"

  "Negative," Carras said. "Business as usual."

  They arrived in the hangars in time to catch their breath before two of Erato's kites dove out of the sky and into the landing bays.

  Two pilots emerged from the small ships and walked toward a ready room without removing their helmets.

  "Fetch me my flight suit, Soto. Baroch has sent his own honor guard." Carras, too, moved toward the lounge. His aide disappeared.

  Carras entered the room. "This is certainly a surprise," he said. "Perhaps we may be warned before you drop such exalted company onto our heads." His hand reached for a flight helmet before he realized that one of the pilots had remained standing at attention, an unusual happenstance on the flight decks, even in the presence of a Colonel. The other was only now removing his helmet. Carras' hand snapped back from the shelf and joined the other behind his back. "Sire!"

  Baroch untangled his long braid from the helmet visor. "At ease, Carras. And yes, I do feel exalted whenever I have the privilege of flying a fine ship such as the kite."

  Carras did not relax his formal stance. To do so would have been a slight to Baroch's rank. "Forgive me, sire, I had expected to meet with you aboard the Erato."

  The Delphian smiled. "Ah, never assume, never expect. Had you known me, you would have expected me to enjoy the kite. Had you expected me, you would have insisted on boarding Erato. Am I assuming too much?"

  "No, sir, your safety on Targon is questionable. Aboard the Erato–"

  "Aboard the Erato I would not have had the opportunity to reacquaint myself with the kite. Allow me my pleasures, these days they are few."

  Baroch loosened his uniform to let his braid slip beneath his suit. Then he unfolded a hood from his rolled collar and draped it over his head. "To a safe room, then, so that we may talk."

  The other pilot stepped close to his side, now carrying Baroch's helmet. Carras realized that he had seen him before. Not just a bodyguard, this man was a Prime Staff agent, one the Ten's separate security force that answered to no one else. When Soto rejoined him, Carras motioned to him with a private signal. Soto fell into step with them, his hand near his pistol, his eyes alert to danger.

  The four men walked only a few steps and ascended a staircase that led to a long, narrow room overlooking the landing area. It was empty at this time of day. No visitors had toured here to observe the activities below, no tired pilots rested here between shifts. Carras knew this to be so. Long ago, he had begun to discourage the use of this room. It was a convenient place to detain suspect visitors for questioning before they saw more of the base than the bays. A small, steadily glowing indicator by the food service area assured that the room was free of listening devices.

  Baroch looked about and nodded, satisfied. "You may leave us," he said to both Soto and his own guard.

  When they were alone, he turned to Carras. "I assume," he smiled, "that you would appreciate an explanation."

  Carras nodded. "It is not often that one of the Elected Ten Factors will commandeer one of our battleships for a personal conveyance. Especially not the Erato."

  Baroch stood by the one-way glass wall, unseen by those below. "This is a military matter, I assure you. Let us not waste time. Not only did I summon Erato, but battleship Teti will also arrive within a few hours."

  "Teti!"

  "Your old command, correct? Well, you will once again take her, if only for a few days." The Delphian turned to Carras, his expression grave. "We will take them both to Shaddallam."

  "Sire," Carras objected. "I believe we have that situation under control. V7 and One are on the ground and actively engaged in the investigation. Three and Nine are in the sector. All outgoing traffic from any part of Shaddallam is monitored. It may take a while before our agents can locate the boy's exact position. Shaddallam is a large planet and we can't alert the rebel to our presence. I have not had any indication that further support is required. Surely the mobilization of two battleships is a provocation we don't need at this point."

  "A delegation from Delphi met with me on Feyd," Baroch said as if he had heard none of Carras' assurances. "Shantirs."

  "Oh?"

  Baroch held his gaze.

  "How bad is it?" Carras said finally, his voice hoarse.

  "Bad," Baroch said. "Worse! I have some files with me that indicate what Delphi hoped to gain from this creature Tughan Wai. It is beyond what we imagined."

  "I can imagine a few things."

  "If you could you would not be sitting complacently in your offices, holding audiences with salespeople!" Baroch snapped. "I am sure that you have studied those grand, overblown legends surrounding the Tughan Wai. Heroic stories of a superbeing that will protect the people of Delphi. They tell of some savior figure that will blow up battleships and collapse jumpsites. The truth is much simpler, Carras. The Tughan kills. It wants to kill. Once released, it cannot be stopped. Mentally, it feeds on what it kills and grows to include what it has killed. Kill a thousand men and it becomes those thousand men, weak or strong, within one body. The Tughan will gain complete understanding of all of them. And what will he do with this knowledge? He sure as you're sitting there will not be blowing up enemy ships for Delphi or anyone else for that matter!"

  Baroch closed his eyes to allow himself a moment of reflection. Calmer, he went on to explain. "The concept for the Tughan Wai is based on the khamal, which is initiated by touch. Except that this creature does not just share its partner's thought and mind, it absorbs it entirely. It copies
and understands every connection and every synapse ever made by that mind. Unfortunately, the victim's brain is destroyed by this. That is the design flaw that the Shantirs fear. And none of them know just how much touch is required to do this. Perhaps none at all. Perhaps it can simply think itself into a khamal with any one of us. With any thousand of us. Who knows? Perhaps tens of thousands."

  Carras swallowed hard, understanding. "Unless..."

  "Unless the body now occupied by the Tughan Wai dies. He is as mortal as you and I. For now. But who can really know what he will become?"

  "My agents have orders to return the child to Delphi at once. We all understand the research opportunities."

  "Can you not understand the threat of this thing? It can never be contained. Delphi does not want him. Their studies over the past few years resulted in some interesting conclusions. The boy was already earmarked for termination. Had Tharron not taken him, he would have been destroyed by the Shantirate before the Tughan emerges on its own at the end of his puberty, around the age of twenty-five."

  "I have confidence in my people. They will be able to retrieve the boy."

  "Carras," Baroch said impatiently. "Suppose that he does not wish to be retrieved."

  Carras paled.

  Baroch folded his arms and leaned against the window, his eyes on the shift change below. Patrol planes landed, their crews deplaned, waving tiredly to their replacements before heading toward the dressing rooms and on to fourteen hours of downtime before their next shift. "You are concerned about a living, walking bomb. You think Tharron has a gun bigger than ours. So it may be. And so what? Time will pass. People live, they die, whether led by us or by him. It does not matter." Baroch turned back to face him. "Our worry has gone beyond this. This living, walking bomb has a living, working mind. Probably the finest mind ever conceived, once the creation is complete. Once the Tughan awakes, he will understand Tharron. He will touch Tharron and he will know more about Tharron than Tharron does."

  "He will not remain as a tool in rebel hands."

  "Nor ours. He is a greater force than Tharron's rebels and the Union Commonwealth combined. He will be beyond anything we can ever hope to understand." Baroch leaned closer to Carras. "He will hate us for what we have done to him. He may destroy all of us in the rage he will feel over his creation. And he won’t stop then because he needs to kill in order to grow. And he will live to god-like proportions!"

  "But he is Delphian! By birth! His nature–"

  "His nature will change with every single thing he touches. There is no such thing as a benevolent god! We have made it so with every religion we invented."

  Carras' mind was churning madly, groping for reason among the dreadful visions his brain even now tried to digest. Incredibly, he found himself wishing he were still engaged with that pest of a slave trader in his office.

  "We were beyond lucky to have found them on Shaddallam as quickly as we did. Our luck won't hold forever. You and I both know that the odds are great that Tharron himself is also on Shaddallam. We cannot take the chance that he will hide the boy elsewhere if he is unable to use him now. We have intercepted a message that one of Tharron's carriers has left for Shaddallam. What can your agents there possibly accomplish against a battleship? We will go to Shaddallam as soon as the Teti arrives. He will not get away! No one must leave that planet until the Tughan is eliminated."

  * * *

  Nova wasted no time in assessing her situation. She launched herself forward to use her momentum and this instance of surprise to ram her shoulder into Tychon's midriff, throwing both of them over the cot and onto the floor. His gun spun into the shadows.

  He pushed her away and struggled to his feet. His knees buckled drunkenly and he swayed as though it was an effort to keep his balance. But he circled her, ready to pounce.

  "Ty, it's me! Don't you recognize me?"

  "You're one of them. Don't come any closer."

  Desperately, Nova tried to remember what she had learned of the mind altering methods used by their enemies. She groped for long-forgotten classroom sessions dealing with Tharron's ways and searched her mind for the few instances that she had come across mental domination. If Tychon had fallen victim to Tharron's drugs they would surely have been administered in a quantity to kill him eventually.

  She moved toward him, sure that he was about to collapse. But he surprised her. When she reached for him he lunged and his fist caught her shoulder, throwing her back to collide with the wall behind her. Something was lending him strength, perhaps pumping adrenalin where nothing else was keeping him upright.

  She whipped around him, measuring how fast he followed, and moved toward the door. "Ty, come on. It's me, Nova. Look at me!"

  "Nova is dead. Your people killed her!"

  "No, please listen. Hear my voice. I'm right here."

  He shook his head, seeing nothing before him but an enemy. "You took her," he said, his face a mask of anguish. "You took my wife. Then you took my son. And now you took her, too. Why did you not also take my life!"

  Nova's tears doubled and trebled his image before her. Her tears were for the bruises on his body and the blood that smeared his skin and clothes. He trembled from head to foot as he fought to remain standing. Tharron's torturers had managed to extinguish the warm glow of his eyes and left him blank, a mere shell in which to place their murderous assignment. She felt her body and soul cry out to him, aching to hold him, heal him.

  "Please wake up!" she pleaded.

  He lurched toward her as if massive weights were tied to his feet.

  "Think, you stupid greenie," Nova berated herself, fighting her emotions. "Think like a Delphian." She backed away from Tychon, moving slowly. His voice sounded hollow and coarse, she suspected that he was dehydrated. But his words were not slurred by drugs and his pale eyes were focused. She dared to hope that drugs had not been the cause of this profound change in him. What else would work quickly enough to make him susceptible to their tampering? It had to be something mechanical, something that could be turned off.

  Then it came to her. Somewhere on his back would be a small metal plug. A crude device that was one of Tharron's favorites. Once embedded in the skin, it would send disturbing messages to its carrier's brain along the nerves in the spine. It would then only take a few hours of constantly repeated suggestions to plant a thought, an emotion or an attitude into the subject's mind. And Tychon's mind was already taxed to exhaustion by their khamal.

  The khamal! Nova focused on their mental link and screamed her fear into his wide open mind.

  He lurched away from her, clutching his head. His legs gave out and he crashed to the floor.

  She scrambled to where he had fallen, distraught by the pain she had caused him. "Ty? Ty, talk to me!" She shook his shoulder. "Please, Ty!"

  He lowered his arms from his head, breathing heavily.

  "You okay? I'm sorry." She helped him to sit up.

  Nova did not struggle when his long fingers closed around her neck. She conserved her air, beating down the waves of panic, knowing that if she gave in to her fear now, she would be dead. Her hand reached around his back and slipped under his hair. She touched a hard, metallic protrusion close to his spine. The flesh around it was hot and swollen. Perhaps it would still be safe to remove it. She felt herself weakening, sure that her head was about to explode, followed closely by her lungs. Her nails dug into his skin, tearing at the hard edges of the control unit. It wrenched from his back with a small, insignificant sound that she would never forget.

  She stifled his roar of pain with her bloodied hand and held him down with her body while she coughed, gasping for air. He was writhing. Beads of sweat appeared on his face as he fought the agony she had inflicted, his eyes bulging, not leaving hers until he was able to breathe again.

  "Ty?" she whispered, taking her weight off him. She crushed the disk under her heel and kicked it away. "Can you hear me? I'm sorry. You'll be fine now, really. It's over." She grasped the hands t
hat were clenched in pain. She hoped that what she said was true.

  Nova felt nothing but absolute hatred for Tharron at this moment. He could have simply left a detail of his men waiting in ambush for her, knowing that she was coming. Snipers could have taken her and Greah out from a safe distance. A single skimmer would have done the same. But he had taken the time required to bend Tychon to his will, ordering her execution by one of her own people!

  A noise behind her startled her into a dive for Tychon's gun. "Hey!" Greah yelled. "It's me!"

  "You scared the stuffing out of me!"

  Greah approached Tychon who was now barely conscious, trembling with pain and exhaustion. "That the Major?"

  Nova nodded and flipped the safety of the gun. Her hands were still shaking.

  "They made him over, didn't they? What a mess. Is he dying?"

  "No! I did this to him. I'm sure he can handle the scratches they gave him. He's gone into shock or something."

  "How'd you do that?" Greah opened a satchel. It contained medication, bandages, disinfectant. "Lots of things lying around here. They left in a big hurry."

  She waved a hand at the control on the floor. "They made him think I'm one of them. He probably told them that I was alive and what we were doing here. Then they left him to take care of me."

  Greah nudged the device with his furred boot. The smooth metallic disk had long metal teeth to which bits of Tychon's skin and hair still adhered. "That thing can do that?"

  She nodded, searching through the kit for items meant for Centauri physiology, likely close enough to Tychon's to be useful. "Let's get him on his feet and back down to the river. This town feels like a graveyard."

  She injected painkillers and packed the fresh wound on Tychon's back. He was more alert now, but still shivering. The deep blue was returning to his eyes.

  "This is some kind of pain," he groaned.