"What do you mean when you say that BorCom works beyond the solar system? List some of the places for me. And what sorts of problems do BorCom ships have to solve? Do they fight battles? If they do, who do they fight against?"
There was again a few seconds' pause. "You are asking several questions at once. Taking them in order, BorCom vessels operate in all regions of space accessible through the node network. However, any ship assigned to BorCom duties leaves the solar system through just one of two nodes. The first is located between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. The second, most commonly used by BorCom ships, is situated in the E-K Belt beyond the orbits of Pluto and Neptune.
BorCom vessels are prohibited from operating within the solar system, except under the direct command of Central Command.
"Continue."
Jeff was beginning to see the picture, and he didn't like it. BorCom ships never operated within the solar system. So Uncle Giles, by suggesting to the navy representatives that Border Command was right for Jeff, was in effect banishing him. In particular, he was putting Jeff far from Central Command—which was where all the rapid promotions took place. But where would Jeff be going?
"Continue."
"Forty-three extrasolar nodes are currently in operation, with seven more scheduled for completion in the next five years. Do you want a complete list?"
"Print the whole thing. But tell me the ones where most of today's BorCom action is."
"There are currently four trouble spots on which BorCom attention is focused. They are, in order of estimated urgency: Node 23, which threatens a secession from Sol control. Node 35, in whose vicinity both commercial and navy vessels have been vanishing without trace. Node 14, where the Lastrealis colony is endangered by indigenous parasitic life-forms. And Node 09, where disputes over mining claims have led to violence. BorCom is being asked to serve as arbitrator. "
Jeff tried to recall if any of those nodes or subjects had been mentioned last night by Uncle Giles. He couldn't remember. He could scarcely remember the meeting itself. The painkillers had put him far more out of it than he had realized. He made a mental note: Nodes 09, 14, 23, 35. He would have to find out more about each of them—and his own future assignment.
He was about to ask, but the query link was continuing: "Unlike Central Command vessels, BorCom ships are not equipped to fight major battles. If and when superior firepower is needed, BorCom calls on the Central Command fleet for assistance. The Central Command vessels possess—"
"Skip that. I know about the weapons of Central Command ships. Do you have information about my own assignment to BorCom?"
He hadn't expected an answer, and it was a surprise when after a few seconds the query link buzzed and answered: "Your assignment will be to the patrol vessel Aurora."
Someone had been moving superfast in the twelve hours since Jeff had received the news that he would be accepted into the navy. It was a safe bet that Uncle Giles and his other uncles and aunts were involved. They wanted Jeff far off in space, leaving the road to promotion clear for Myron and the other Lazenby children. Jeff knew why. He might not be much, himself, but the rest were all aware how long a shadow his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather still cast on navy affairs.
"Where is the Aurora now?"
"The ship is in Earth orbit. The Aurora is scheduled to make a node transition in fifteen days from the E-K Belt node, and will jump to Node 23. You are expected to be on board at that time."
Someone not only wanted Jeff far away, they wanted him away fast. Even at maximum acceleration, it would take a few days to reach the E-K Belt. Jeff's suspicions were growing.
"If I'm to be on board the Aurora when the ship makes its node transition, when will I have to leave here?"
"You are scheduled for an evening ascent to orbit from Point Merrick."
"Which evening?"
"This evening. Following arrival in low Earth orbit, you will transfer to the Aurora and proceed in a high-acceleration mode to Node 02, in the E-K Belt. From there to Node 23—"
The query link stopped. It might not be very smart, but it could tell when no one was listening. Its sensors showed Jeff, bruises, aching head and all, dashing at high speed out of the room.
Jeff knew what was happening. He was being run out of town—out of the solar system—as fast as his relatives could arrange it. Before his mother's operation, still less her recovery, he would leave Earth. In days, he would make the jump to Node 23. According to the query link, that node represented Border Command's number-one hot spot.
Secession from Sol control. Someone was trying to set up their own government. Who, and why? He didn't know, but he didn't like the sound of it. In fact, he didn't like the sound of anything that was happening. Particularly the things happening to him.
Why was all this being done? Uncle Giles Lazenby and Aunt Delia Lazenby never, in Jeff's experience, acted without a reason. They had surely expected him to be refused navy entrance. At that point, according to Rollo Kopal's inflexible rules, he would have been on the path to disinheritance.
Except that he had passed. They couldn't force him out now. But they could do other things.
Did they hope that he wouldn't return from his BorCom assignment? That he would perish or vanish in some accident of the node network, like Uncle Drake many years ago?
Jeff ran down the long, curved rear staircase, slowing toward the bottom as his bruised left leg threatened to buckle under him. The conference room was empty—numerous scattered cups and plates, still awaiting collection by the serving staff, showed that the board had been in session late into the night.
How much had Jeff's fate been an item on their agenda?
He kept moving. No one in the great hall, but in the vaulted sunroom he found Uncle Lory, staring vacantly at a picture of Jupiter's big moon, Ganymede. Jeff knew that it was ancient, one of the first images returned to Earth centuries ago by unmanned planetary probes. Now a thriving human settlement existed on that moon. Did Lory know, and did he long to go there?
No time to worry about it now. Jeff nodded to his uncle, called "Good morning," and kept going. He wanted to find Giles or Delia and ask some direct questions.
No one in the parlor, no one in the communications room, no one in any of the four studies. No one anywhere. Could they all be still in bed? At last, in the sunny breakfast room at the very end of the ground-floor east wing, he came across Myron.
His cousin stared at him coldly. With good reason. Jeff hadn't washed, hadn't combed his hair, and was still in his pajamas. He could guess how he looked, with his bruised face and hobbling walk. Myron didn't look too good himself. He was neat and clean, but oddly pale. Probably from celebrating too late into the night his success and acceptance by Central Command.
Jeff nodded—a mistake. His head pounded. "Congratulations on the ride yesterday. You did really well."
Myron did not speak. Jeff dropped into a chair opposite his cousin. He saw the filled dishes of scrambled eggs, waffles, rice, and sausage, and suddenly he was starving. He had eaten nothing since noon the previous day.
He piled a plate full and was beginning to eat when he realized that Myron had not, so far, said a word—not even "Good morning."
"Are you feeling all right?" He spoke through a mouthful of pancakes and syrup.
Myron nodded. "I am. I saw your ride yesterday."
"Not too great, was it? I thought I was going to break my neck when I hit that top rail."
"Your round ought to have been ruled as over and done with at that point. It was totally wrong for you to be allowed to remount and continue—even if you knew what was going on, and I don't think you did. I saw your face. I think you were semiconscious."
Jeff stopped eating. "Hey, don't blame me for the way the people from the navy reacted. I had nothing to do with that. I agree with you; I thought I was dead meat the second that Domino refused the sixth jump."
It was no good, his cousin was not looking at him. Myron was staring out of th
e window, presenting to Jeff his clean, strong-jawed profile.
"You are a Kopal," he said coldly. "Do you think that fact had no bearing on the way that you were treated? That it did not affect the navy representatives' reaction? If I had fallen off Lysander, do you think I would have been permitted to continue my round?" Myron swung around to glare at Jeff. "I'm sure you know the answer. My round would have been judged over. And then this morning I heard that you volunteered for the Border Command."
"I didn't volunteer! They told me—"
"Border Command, where the hottest action is. We all know that. While I will be stuck with CenCom."
Jeff stared at his cousin in disbelief. Myron really meant what he was saying. He was jealous—although everyone knew that CenCom was the place to be if you wanted to get ahead. Jeff had never beaten Myron at anything; his cousin had wiped the floor with him in every activity that they had ever tried, from swimming to hang gliding. It was no different in this case.
"I tell you that I didn't volunteer. I had nothing—"
Jeff saw the look in Myron's eyes and gave up. It wouldn't matter what he said, the other would assume that he had been granted special privileges. And—Jeff didn't like this idea any better than Myron—maybe he had.
He tried to change the subject. "I've been looking all over for your father. I can't find him, or any of our aunts and uncles."
Myron at last stopped scowling. "I'm not surprised. They've flown up to the capital for a court hearing."
"What about?"
"They are seeking to have a change approved in the bylaws of Kopal Transportation. It concerns in absentia voting rights." Myron stopped abruptly and walked over to the sideboard. "What sorts of juices have they put out for us? I need something cold."
As a deliberate attempt to change the subject it didn't fool Jeff for a moment. In absentia voting rights could only concern his own father. All the other board members had been present the previous night. They must have been discussing his father's situation, questioning the ruling that he was still legally alive. Had his mother spoken to one of the others yesterday and inadvertently let slip something that suggested she knew differently?
"What sort of change?"
But Myron apparently felt that he had said too much already. He looked vague. "Oh, I don't know." He poured and sipped a glass of apple juice. "My father never tells me what he's doing."
Jeff was willing to believe that. Uncle Giles probably didn't give his feelings away to Myron, any more than he did to Jeff. On that subject at least, Jeff felt full sympathy for Myron and his sister, Myra. Of all the Lazenbys, Uncle Giles would be his own last choice for a parent.
Still trying to avoid an argument, he said, "Anyway, you probably know as much about my BorCom assignment as I do. All I know is that I'll be on a ship called the Aurora. And we'll be making a jump to Node 23."
That, finally, was news to Myron. The shocked expression showed that Jeff's last remark came as a complete surprise.
"Node 23? Are you sure?"
"That's what I was told. You've heard of it?"
"I have." Myron waved his arm excitedly, and apple juice spilled from his glass onto the polished hardwood floor. "Last year, I did a review of all the nodes beyond the solar system for a test elective. Node 23 is close to the edge of a dust cloud, twenty-seven light-years from Sol. It's officially known as the Messina Dust Cloud, but no one ever calls it that." Myron's face filled with satisfaction. "They call it Cyborg Territory."
Myron was suddenly willing to tell Jeff what he knew. That was a bad sign. Jeff, nervous, settled back to listen.
"I heard Cyborg Territory stories, when I was small," Myron said, "but I thought they were just like bogeymen, told to scare us."
"So did I. Aren't they? I'm not even sure what a cyborg is."
"None of the normal references give a definition." The color had returned to Myron's face. "I had to look that up in the general databases. A cyborg is part human, part machine. It's against the law to try that on Earth or anywhere in the solar system, because of the humanity statutes."
Though not in Cyborg Territory? Humans were humans, machines were machines. They were nothing like each other. Jeff could not imagine a mixture of the two.
Myron was continuing. "On the other hand, there's lots of information about the Messina Dust Cloud. It was discovered a couple of centuries ago. As soon as a node was placed there, people began to explore and exploit it. There are harvesters collecting stable transuranics—the Messina Cloud is the main source of those, apart from Solferino. And there are rakehells, looking for Cauthen starfires and shwartzgeld—those are found nowhere else—and then there's something weird called space sounders. Nobody knows quite what they are, or even whether they are alive. They distort space in some weird way, so it's dangerous to go near one."
"But cyborgs?" Jeff prompted. He felt sure he could look up the Messina Dust Cloud for himself. He would probably be required to do so, if the Aurora were headed there. "Why is it called Cyborg Territory?"
"Out beyond the solar system, they have machines much smarter than anything allowed here on Earth. The humanity statutes are being violated. Apparently in the Messina Dust Cloud they are really short of people, so they allow machines to do things we would never permit. Even to merge with humans. Their cyborgs are supposed to be combinations of parts of humans and smart machines."
That conjured up in Jeff's mind an unpleasant vision of a human torso with spindly metal arms and legs, topped by the silver head and glittering crystal eyes of a food service robot. Apparently Myron had the same thought, because he smiled and said, "They wouldn't be human, would they?"
"But it might explain why they're trying to secede from Sol control." Jeff didn't care to think too much about the cyborgs themselves. "Maybe they don't believe they have anything in common with us."
"I bet they don't," Myron said. "But what do you mean, secede?"
Apparently this was something new, something that had occurred since Myron had written his paper. Jeff explained what he had been told by the query link about Node 23 threatening secession. "It can't mean that the node is seceding," he said. "A node is only a transportation link point, a place in space. The data item has to mean that the people living in the Messina Dust Cloud—"
"If they are people."
"Whatever they are, they want to secede and have their independence. But why?"
"I told you," Myron said. "If they're really cyborgs, then they're not human. Not human." He repeated the last two words with a fair amount of satisfaction. "They won't feel sympathy with humans. Probably they'll hate us. But the Aurora has to go there . . . ."
Myron was no longer complaining about Jeff's good fortune. He left the sentence hanging, and it was easy for Jeff to guess how his cousin might have finished it. But the Aurora has to go there . . . and persuade the human-hating cyborgs to give up their plans to break away from humanity.
How do you persuade nonhuman beings to do anything?
Chapter Five
HOW do you persuade nonhuman beings to do anything? Jeff pondered that question from the moment he left the breakfast room. He didn't find an answer. Not that he was offered much thinking time in the first days. Uncle Giles set the schedule, and he made sure there was no slack. Jeff lost track of the number of things he was obliged to get through in a matter of hours: the frantic packing and farewells, the short flight to Navy Base, and then—almost before he was off the plane—the navy induction ceremony. The induction process itself was easy: Sign your name in a hundred places, salute a thousand uniforms, and don't ask questions.
There was no time for that, anyway, because a suborbital flier was already waiting to carry him and half a dozen other recruits to the equatorial spaceport.
No pause there—the lasers were pumping when Jeff arrived. He and thirty other navy personnel were hurled within hours to low Earth orbit. He was left in free fall long enough to learn that he was emphatically not one of the lucky few immune to sp
ace sickness. When he felt a little better he was given the luxury of one call back to Earth. He learned that his mother had survived the operation and was now in the first stage of recovery. He left a message, sending his love and telling her where he was going.
And then it was another rapid transfer, this one to the Aurora. The two-G flight to the node began an hour later. Two Gs didn't sound like much—until you had to live with it. At twice your normal weight, eating, walking, and especially sleeping were difficult.
His cabin on the Aurora didn't help. It was small and cramped, nothing like his mental image of the facilities of a proud navy starship. He had less living space than in any single one of the rooms of his suite at Kopal Manor. Worst of all, his quarters were not particularly clean. On the third day he left his cabin, situated right amidships at the fattest part of the ship, and struggled to where Captain Eliot Dufferin, commander of the Aurora, sat in the forward control room. Under a two-G field it felt like climbing stairs with a man on your back.
The Cyborg from Earth Page 4