Neogenesis

by Sharon Lee

  Tactics pinged.

  “An Operating Rule may be put into place, to take no humans aboard.”

  An Operating Rule was no small thing; once put into place, it would become part of his nature and could never be circumvented.

  An Operating Rule was, in fact, very much like a mandate, save that he would formulate it, and put it into place of his own will and judgment.

  He had, Admiral Bunter thought, very good reasons to ban humans from his decks. Humans had placed him into the precarious position from which Tolly Jones, Tocohl, and Inkirani Yo had rescued him. Without humans he might have—

  Without humans, he would not have been born.

  Without humans, he might have died or, worse, lost his reason and destroyed a space station and all within.

  Humans were deceitful and wanton. Humans were cruel.

  Humans were capable of placing themselves in danger in order to assist an intelligence at risk. Humans were candid, and clever, and—fascinating in some way he had not yet defined, or encoded, but which surely warranted further study.

  Study which would be impossible were he never to engage another.

  The Admiral brought that part of his attention which was monitoring Tolly Jones in his cabin to the fore.

  The man was curled on his side, breathing slow and deep. The monitors reported delta waves, reduced nerve cell activity, lowered blood pressure—symptoms of healthy REM-state sleep. Brain activity indicated dreaming was taking place.

  Would a man sleep so deeply, if he were afraid?

  His research suggested otherwise—except in cases of illness or extreme exhaustion. Readings had indicated that Tolly Jones had been exhausted upon his emergence from the core. Sleep was needful in order to remove toxins and repair the damage that accrued to biologic intelligences merely by being alive. It was very probable that biology had moved to preserve itself, and Tolly Jones slept—by mandate.

  Tolly Jones had, so the Admiral clearly recalled, saved his life—with the assistance of Inkirani Yo, who had later tried to steal it.

  Humans, Admiral Bunter thought…Humans not only warranted further study, they required further study, if he was to keep himself sovereign and safe.

  He withdrew his active attention from the sleeping human and reviewed his plan, made in the realization of Inki’s treachery. A mentor had set the mandates, therefore a mentor must remove them. Well and good; he had a mentor available to him, in the person of Tolly Jones.

  But once Tolly Jones had removed those mandates, he was an active threat to Admiral Bunter’s continued freedom and existence.

  Therefore, Tolly Jones must be—neutralized.

  Best, the Admiral thought, to accomplish the task at once, while biology was ascendant.

  There was no need for the mentor to suffer, after all.

  Vivulonj Prosperu

  Daav yos’Phelium drifted toward wakefulness, comfortably entangled, a smaller, cooler hand resting in his. For a moment, or an hour, he remained at half-drowse, more cat than man, questioning nothing, comfort least of all. Eventually, however, the drowse lightened, and he began to think about his circumstances.

  This delightful entanglement, for instance. It scarcely did him honor, that he did not…quite…seem to know who his sleeping partner was. Not Kamele, certainly. Kamele did not like to sleep encumbered by another’s arms, legs entwined, holding hands. Very occasionally, she would curl ’round and, being the longer, hold him tucked against breast and belly, which was comfort of another kind.

  Have you forgotten me already, van’chela?

  It was a whisper heard only within the confines of his skull, the tone amused, yet carrying an edge. In that moment, the matter was made clear to him, and he took care to keep his eyes closed and to exert no additional pressure against the hand that…seemed…to lie in his.

  “Aelliana,” he murmured. “I will remember you past death.”

  And so you have done.

  Her voice—the voice that only he could hear—was abruptly gentle. He felt the leg across his hip press more firmly, even as her hand slipped away from his—and came to rest along his cheek.

  “Daav, will you open your eyes?”

  That was no thought whispered inside his head, but spoken words, amused again, as they struck his ear, bringing him fully awake, to recall—

  That he had died.

  Moreover, he had been reborn; as Aelliana his lifemate—who had preceded him in death by twenty-five Standard Years—had also been reborn. They had the Uncle himself to thank—or blame—for this and the fact that they—their personalities, intellects, souls…essences—were residing in bodies created by that same Uncle, who was not, let it be known, entirely trustworthy.

  “Daav?”

  “Forgive me,” he murmured, “It is a habit long formed. I had taught myself not to look when you spoke to me, because it was too much to bear—to hear, but never to see you.”

  “I know,” she whispered, and it was her lips he felt now against his cheek. Of course she knew, who had lived as a ghost inside of his head since her murder. How could it have been otherwise?

  “But you must commence upon a new habit, van’chela—unless you still fear that you will not see Aelliana Caylon when you look at me?”

  That was unjust—no, he corrected himself, his memory of the hours preceding this tardy awakening abruptly returning. No, it was perfectly just. He had doubted her—and himself, as well. That had been before the seed pods, and the Uncle’s very apparent chagrin at the changes that had been made to his handiwork. Very soon after those events, they had been brought back to their cabin. They had eaten the meal that had been waiting for them and—exhausted with everything that had gone forth on their first day reborn—sought their bed and sleep.

  He turned his cheek more closely into her palm and sighed.

  “Has the Tree returned all our counters, do you think?” he asked. “And removed the Uncle’s points?”

  “I think that we must believe so,” Aelliana said slowly, “else we shall go mad with doubting each other and ourselves. I feel no doubt of you, and I will tell you plainly, Daav, that I am of no mind to die again.”

  “No,” he said, his voice low and rough, “nor I.”

  “Well, then, since we are in agreement, will you indeed open your eyes?” Her fingers tensed against his cheek. “Unless you find this new body the Uncle has so generously given me insupportable?”

  There was a quiver of wistful dismay there. She considered it possible that he would find her offensive.

  Well, and that would never do.

  He took a careful breath, opened his eyes, and smiled into hers—green and, in the instant, slightly foggy, which in her…previous…body had been a sign that she stood in some small distress.

  “I think,” he said lightly, “that we have not yet performed thorough inspections. Perhaps, now that we are rested, we should begin.”

  She laughed and he kissed her. Her mouth was sweet and pliant; knowing and…familiar. Death and rebirth had not changed her kiss, nor the fire of her passion. He felt her quicken; felt his blood heat in response. She put her hands against his shoulders, urging him back onto his pillow, her breasts pressing against him. The kiss deepened. He slid a hand down her slender back to her buttocks, urging her closer and—

  A klaxon sounded.

  It was gratifying, Daav thought a moment later, as he stood naked and poised on one side of the bed, Aelliana likewise on the other, to learn that their reaction times were so quick.

  “One gathers that the audience finds us inept,” he murmured.

  “Overexertion alert!” a mechanical voice stated, hard on the heels of this sally. “Monitoring now at second level. Third level invoked if condition uncorrected in two Standard Minutes.”

  Daav raised an eyebrow and looked to Aelliana, but her eyes were already closed. Shadowy colors flowed over him, warm and cool by turns, as she ran the Scout’s Rainbow. Excellent choice; the first and best relaxation and focusi
ng technique taught to hopeful scouts, which he once had been, who then taught it to everyone they deemed in need. As he had taught it to Aelliana.

  The first time, it had taken that hopeful scoutling an hour or more to go through all the colors and levels in turn. Over time, with practice, it had come more and more quickly, until now, all he need do was bring to mind a spinning, multicolored wheel, and the exercise was complete.

  His blood cooled, his heartbeat steadied, tight muscles relaxed, even as he felt his focus sharpen. There ought to be no cause in any of that for the robot watcher to invoke the next level and call the Uncle or his comrade, Pilot Dulsey.

  Daav opened his eyes. Across the disordered bed, Aelliana stood cool and poised, her eyes brilliantly green.

  “I suppose that we ought to have recalled the stricture against overexercise,” she said wryly. “I received the impression, van’chela, that these blanks, as the Uncle has them, come dear, even for a man of his resources. Having taken the decision to spend two for our benefit, he would not like to see them misused. Certainly, it would have seemed merely prudent to him to safeguard his investment.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, because they had received instructions regarding exercise, and rest, and proper nutrition during a…recovery period. Those had come, of course, before the pods and what changes the Tree had thereby wrought, but one could not expect automated systems to be aware of such things.

  “Well, and we have also had a stringent test of our nervous and pulmonary systems, which must be counted a win.”

  She grinned, somewhat lopsidedly.

  “Help me, Daav—shall we say that the Tree has interfered with or rescued us?”

  “I see no reason why we cannot say both, and with equal alarm,” he replied. “Furthermore, I suggest that we speedily set ourselves to finding how the Tree knew we would need those pods, and precisely in what peril we stood.”

  “Well, but it might not have known, after all,” she said reasonably. “If we never had the need, the pods would have merely gone unripened.”

  “That satisfies you, does it?” he asked interestedly, watching her face, which was not quite Aelliana’s face, and the eyes, which were so very like.

  She wrinkled her nose.

  “No, it doesn’t,” she admitted. “But until we may confront it…”

  “Very true. We shall compose ourselves and put the matter from our minds until it may be usefully addressed. But I warn you, van’chela, it will go badly with me if the Tree is proved a god.”

  “I understand,” she said. “However, I do not believe that Miri will accept any such condition. She seemed to enjoy a very healthy disrespect for the Tree.”

  “Nor did Val Con appear the least in thrall. Well. We shall leave it in their hands for the moment. What next for us, then, my lady?”

  She sighed and shook her head.

  “I think next must be a meal, then a session of exercise, following the Uncle’s known and approved schedule. It will, perhaps, return us to a…less fraught position with our host, if we are seen to be biddable.”

  “Certainly, we do not wish to alarm him into an indiscretion. I agree: We shall break our fast and exercise. And then?”

  “And then,” Aelliana said, turning toward the bench where she had folded her clothes, “I would very much like to find a mirror. Perhaps it was reasonable to shield us from our own faces when we were just awakened and confronted with so many impossibilities. But we are informed now and ought to know ourselves as we stand.”

  Pants in hand, she turned, showing him the high breasts and flat belly of a woman barely beyond halfling. Aelliana had been two years short of her thirty-sixth Name Day when she had been murdered; they had only eight years together…in the flesh. He had not known her when she was as young as this woman appeared to be.

  Still, it seemed to him that there was something of Aelliana’s body language in the stance, which had, prior to the Tree’s meddling, been so very uncertain. It also seemed that her face was more nearly Aelliana’s…former…face, now, or perhaps it was, rather, something in the expression. The Uncle had said that she would, eventually, come to look more like herself, as body memory informed the new…shell.

  And there was the question of how his perceptions were informed by the functioning lifemate link the Tree had provided them, among its other gifts. In their previous…incarnation, Aelliana had been able to feel his emotions—his signal, as she had it—while he had relied upon the body-reading skills taught to scouts and a very high degree of natural empathy. Aelliana had been traumatized, before they had found each other, and her…transmitter had been damaged beyond even the Tree’s repair.

  This new body, however…

  Pants on, sweater in hand, she raised her eyebrows at him.

  “Well, sir? Will you stare all day?”

  “May I?” he returned, opening his eyes wide.

  The frown she awarded him was not entirely without humor, though she managed to make her voice stern.

  “No, you may not. I want tea and something to eat.”

  She paused, then added pointedly, “I find it somewhat chilly, also. Don’t you?”

  Daav bowed slightly, accepting the hit, and turned to find his own clothes.

  * * * * *

  The exercise room was in use when they arrived. The Uncle himself was running on the track which, according to the schedule, they were to engage at nothing brisker than a stroll during this present session. Running…Aelliana reached to the screen on which their routines were displayed and moved forward twelve sessions until she found Run, 10 minute, easy.

  She sighed, scrolled back to the present schedule, and dutifully moved to the weight station.

  She put her hand against the plate so her work would be properly recorded by the machine; positioned herself behind the bar, feet flat, body centered. The weight slid into place, and she put her palms against it, pushing it easily away from her on the track with the strength of her arms alone. Slowly, the weight’s resistance increased. She pushed harder. Resistance increased again; she pushed harder, engaging shoulder and back muscles now…

  Another increase and she was finally able to lean in seriously, pushing strongly, feeling the weight ease back. She smiled, anticipating the next increase in resistance, digging her heels into the mat in anticipation.

  A bell sounded. The weight froze.

  “Session ends,” the machine told her. “Move to the next station, please.”

  Aelliana grit her teeth, wanting the next level of resistance, wanting to feel her muscles work hard, to sweat with effort…

  “Session ends,” the machine repeated. “Move to the next station, please.”

  Compliance with the Uncle’s schedule was going to be more difficult than she had thought.

  “You find the exercises too tame, Pilot?”

  Daav had just completed his six sit-ups. He rolled to his feet, his dissatisfaction with the exercise flickering through her awareness like distant heat lightning.

  But it had not been Daav who had spoken.

  She turned to find the Uncle descended from the track to the deck, blotting face, neck, and hair with a towel.

  “It does leave one wanting more,” she said.

  He inclined his head.

  “I understand. All of us feel…stinted at this juncture in the process. There are mind-body connections that have not yet been completed and which cannot be completed without physical work. The birth euphoria is persuasive; we believe ourselves to be strong—able, as one of my long-time colleagues would have it, to leap tall buildings and to move mountains. This is precisely why it is so important to proceed with care. An injury now, while the body is yet open to suggestion, could trigger a serious malfunction or result in an unequal balance among the systems.”

  “We, however,” Daav murmured, “have already undergone tampering.”

  The Uncle sighed.

  “As you say. I will, of course, make the argument that it is thus even more impor
tant to proceed with care, given the trauma already received.”

  “Naturally,” Daav said. “May one inquire?”

  “Certainly. Has there been a problem?”

  “Not so much a problem as a concern. When I woke this morning, it was…several minutes, and only with assistance from my lady, before I recalled my precise circumstances. One wonders if rebirth is known to affect short-term memory.”

  “Ah. In—shall we say—uncompromised rebirths, there are frequently small gaps in short-term memory. It is notable that these small gaps are more frequently observed in those experiencing their first rebirth, and also in those who had not been given the opportunity to prepare for the process. I suggest that you partake of both situations. We believe that the memory gaps are produced by the stresses of adjusting to the new situation, and also, perhaps, from the trauma of death itself.

  “We usually find that short-term recall returns to normal operation within forty-eight Standard Hours of full awakening. If you find the condition is worsening, inform me immediately. There are therapies, proven, again in uncompromised rebirths. In your particular situation, I cannot predict success with complete confidence, but I do not believe any of our therapies to be…harmful.”

  “Thank you,” Daav said, inclining his head.

  “Not at all; you are my guests. Of course, I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety and well-being.”

  He turned his head.

  “Pilot Caylon, are you well?”

  “Well,” she said. “Indeed, I might say too well. How long might we expect the euphoria of living to inform us?”

  He smiled.

  “In your situation, Pilot, I venture to predict that it will be many years before ennui finds you. Surely, we must take into our accounting that you are not merely reborn, but reborn from an existence that few have experienced. You are informed by birth euphoria, and also by…novelty.”

  “Yes, of course. I have shared Daav’s body for so long; now that I have my own, I feel that I might easily leap those buildings your colleague conjures with.” She hesitated and added, “This is all, of course, without properly understanding what the Tree has wrought.”