Paradigm 2045- Trinity's Children

by Robert W. Ross

  “I don’t think Linnea showed us that part,” said Chao.

  The telepath shook her head and said, “Sorry, I really didn’t want to relive it.”

  Keung nodded with understanding. “By my calculations,” began Damien, “that approach will have us entering Earth’s atmosphere in the northern hemisphere. Since we are returning to Ice Station Zebra, wouldn’t it be better to—”

  “No,” interrupted James. “Hang on a sec. Doing a few different things at once.” His hands began to blur as the pilot made numerous adjustments across a myriad of control panels. They continued to do so when his eyes refocused on the cockpit camera. “Ok, sorry, I needed to finish programming counter measures. I’m purposely entering from a northern hemisphere vector because Howard-Prime established a safe house in Turkey that Coleman thinks has been compromised. Lots of U.N. chatter around there in the last two days. I’ve retasked our last drone to emit a radiation signature similar to the Gal, and it’s going to head toward Turkey. I’m expecting Coleman to tell me that those blue-helmeted bastards have locked onto the drone. Once they do, I’m going to cut thrust and use the Gal’s gravity-well whatsit to slingshot us around to the southern pole.”

  “The gravity-well whatsit?” snarked Misha, “That fills me with confidence, Branson. You are going to keep us alive by using something you’ve already admitted to not understanding.”

  James grinned at her, and Linnea started shaking her head. “I don’t understand plumbing either, love, but my shite still flushes.”

  “Better at banter…” murmured Sorenson and Misha accidentally ground her heal into the telepath’s foot.

  “I have some final checks to run,” said Branson. “Strap-down klaxon will sound in five. Be ready.”

  The screen went black and Damien turned back to the others. “Given our limited time, I would like to postpone executing on Omandi’s succession plan until after we’ve landed.” He locked eyes with Chao. “Since this affects what would be your command, it seems only proper to get your concurrence. If you insist that—”

  Keung shook his head. “While I appreciate everything Linnea has done to fill my head with your recent activities, and the overall situation, I am in no way prepared to assume command. Moreover, none of you should be faced with such a decision based on what little you know of me. I appreciate both Doctor Howard and your Captain’s faith in me, but now is not the right time.” Misha nodded in agreement, but Keung also noted how her body posture became slightly more closed off. He opened his arms and gestured first to Annchi and then himself. “I owe you my life and that of my daughter. I am honor bound to serve in whatever way begins to repay that debt. Whether I accept the role your Captain offered or not is immaterial to whether I help you retrieve her. That is not in question.” Chao affected a deep bow. “I will achieve Charlotte Omandi’s return to you, or die in the attempt.”

  Annchi stepped up beside Chao and affected an identical bow. “With all due respect, Father, I must correct you.” The girl locked eyes with Misha then said, “We will achieve Omandi’s return or die in the attempt.”

  Linnea watched silently as fear and pride warred for dominion over Chao’s face. Pride won. He gave a curt nod to his daughter, grasped her hand in his, then the two bowed again.

  Misha noted the grim determination that radiated from both of them and extended her hand. Before either Keung could react, the entire cabin was bathed in a deep blue light. Seconds later, the emergency klaxon sounded and everyone raced for their seats.

  Chapter 32

  Hidden Torment

  Richard and Linnea shared a glance. Both could see the tension in the other. Rick spoke first. “Is that it? We were really bounced around there for a while. Do you think it’s over?”

  She gave him a hesitant half-smile and pointed to the cabin’s green status light, “I think it might be.”

  The doctor tapped the release clasp on his crash-seat and the buckle gave a satisfying click, then retracted. “Well,” he said, “that was almost uneventful. I could use more trips like that.”

  “Almost,” said Sokolov, “Careful what you wish for, Doc. I’m not exactly sure how uneventful that really was. We definitely got rocked by something pretty good, when Branson engaged the gravity-well drive, but I didn’t feel any additional acceleration. Damien, did you?”

  The android shook his head. “No, quite strange for him to use that drive twice in rapid succession. The second time was within atmosphere when we would need to decelerate rather than accelerate. I will ask James when he—”

  As if in response, Branson appeared in the open arch that led to Galileo’s pilot station. He gripped the frame and stared into the main cabin. “Is everyone all right?” he asked without a trace of his normal joviality.

  “We are fine, James,” said Damien. “As a matter of fact, you seem to have brought us back to ISZ without attracting much attention at all.”

  “I wish that were the case,” he said in a strained voice, while craning his neck to double-check on everyone. Linnea watched silently as the pilot’s mouth moved and he said each person’s name silently to himself.

  “Enough with the dramatics, Branson,” laughed Misha. She rose and took a step toward him. “You got us all home alive. Are you waiting for me to pin a medal on that strapping Irish chest of yours? If so, you’ve certainly got a long wait coming.” Branson locked eyes with the Russian for a long second and her smile fell away. “Hey,” she began, “Are you feeling—”

  “I’m fine,” he said, then slammed his hand against the shuttle’s hatch release. The display flashed yellow for a second as Galileo validated the pilot’s exit request, then turned solid green. There was a slight hiss, as the cabin pressure equalized with that of the station’s ice hangar, then the shuttle’s telescopic stairs extended. Branson stalked down them without a backwards glance.

  “Hey,” yelled Misha after him, “What the f—”

  Linnea reached over and grabbed the security officer’s arm, interrupting her. “No,” she said, “He’s very upset about something. Let him go.”

  “He’s got no right to be pissy with me,” Misha shot back.

  “He wasn’t being pissy,” corrected the telepath, “It felt like something was,” she paused searching for words, “tearing him up inside.”

  “Then I will go check on him,” said Rick.

  “That would not be a good idea,” offered Chao, and everyone turned to regard the would-be first officer. “Your pilot has suffered an injury, but it is not one that nanites can heal.”

  “How the hell would you know?” spat Misha, “You barely know any of us, and probably Jim least of all.”

  Keung regarded Sokolov with a cool expression and said nothing. Silence stretched between them and Linnea saw how it began to affect the security officer. Oh, he’s good, she thought, as Misha began to shift her weight in a nervous expression few others would notice.

  Finally Keung said, “Just because I declined the role Captain Omandi requested of me does not mean I am not qualified for it. If you’ve proceeded from that false assumption, allow me to correct it now. I am eminently qualified to lead both you and the rest of this crew. I have deferred out of respect for the esprit de corps you’ve previously developed, not a lack of ability.”

  “That doesn’t mean—” Sokolov began, but Chao cut her off.

  “Your pilot suffered a trauma and did so in service to each of you. I suggest you honor it by giving him the distance he needs to process whatever happened.” Keung pointed at Rick, Linnea, and Misha each in turn. “Branson doesn’t need a doctor, a telepath, or a...” He paused for a moment considering, “or whatever exactly you are to him, Sokolov.” Chao turned to Damien and said, “If I were Branson’s commanding officer, I would give him an hour, and then find out what happened. The duty and honor of that visit falls to you, Damien Smith, does it not?”

  The android nodded. “So it would seem. Thank you Mr. Keung. It is sound advice. I will take it under advisemen
t, unless you would like to revisit Captain Omandi’s succession plan. We could still vote on—”

  Chao gave Damien a wry smile. “No, my decision has not changed. I need to know more about the crew before I could effectively lead them…and you.” His smile broadened, “So, until then, do you have any orders or are we all free to simply lounge within the Galileo?”

  Damien nodded thoughtfully, then said. “Yes, several orders in fact. Doctor Carpenter, please take Annchi to the medical bay and—”

  “Why do you need to take my daughter to a medical bay?”

  The android regarded Keung, then said, “If I am not under your command, Mr. Keung, then you are under mine. Are you in the habit of questioning commanding officers with whom you serve?”

  “She’s my daughter. I will question whomever I please when it comes to her welfare.”

  “No, Father,” said Annchi. “I am your daughter except when taking steps to dispel the debt I owe to this crew. You heard me place myself under Damien’s command. Do not force me to dishonor either him or you.”

  Chao moved to kneel before his daughter. “I’m sorry, if I didn’t understand your intention when offering support before, or I would have corrected you then. Annchi, you are still a child…my child.”

  She reached up and held her father’s face in both hands, then kissed his forehead. “How often have you called me the strangest child in all of Earth and Luna?” She saw his expression shift and smiled, “I couldn’t tell you either, because it was so frequent. Now we know that I am the first generation naturally born of Howard-Prime’s eugenics program and—”

  “That doesn’t matter, Annchi,” said her father. “You have no idea whether any of those altered genes would have made their way to you.”

  “They did,” whispered Damien, and all eyes turned toward him. “Howard-Prime designed every altered gene to be dominant on both strands of the DNA. In short, all that you were given by Doctor Howard is within her as well.”

  The girl smiled at her father. “Now you know why I am so strange. I’m just like you. Well, not just like you because I’ve also been shot through the heart and infused with a semi-autonomous nanite flora.” Annchi stood, took a step back from Chao, and lifted one hand. Golden light rippled down her arm to coalesce as an undulating cloud in her open palm.

  Misha unconsciously reached for her holstered HID weapon and asked, “What’s she doing, Doc?”

  “It’s fine,” said Rick. The doctor seemed awestruck as he walked over to Annchi, extended a hand, and asked, “How did you make the nanites bloom like that? For mine to bloom, I have to first assess tissue damage that needs to be repaired. What are yours reacting to?”

  Annchi smiled then flicked her wrist. The cloud of nanites extended into a thick elongated thread, then streaked around the cabin and out the Galileo’s hatch. Chao watched them leave, then turned back to his daughter. She held up a finger and cocked her head slightly. “James is okay, at least physically. He just entered what I assume must be his quarters. He’s beginning to undress and I think he may be preparing to take a shower.”

  “That’s quite enough,” interjected Misha, then grabbed Annchi’s wrist. “Hey, did you hear me?”

  The girl nodded. “I’ve broken the connection and recalled them.” As she spoke, the nanite bloom wreathed her head in golden light. Annchi’s lips parted slightly and she breathed them in. Her cheeks and throat glowed for a moment, then faded. She smiled at Chao. “Don’t worry, Father. They won’t hurt me. They are teaching me just as I am teaching them. I don’t know where these lessons will end, but…” she locked eyes with Damien, “I’m committed to helping you.” She smiled at Rick and said, “I don’t think my nanites work like yours do. I can make them bloom externally with a direct command.” She furrowed her brow, then continued, “but they are still semi-automous so I think they could also self-direct an external bloom so long as I didn’t stop them.” Annchi shrugged, “As I said, still learning, but we can talk more about this in your med-bay, doctor. I believe that is where I’ve been ordered to go, is it not?”

  Damien nodded. “Yes, and thank you.” The android turned to Misha and Linnea. “I’d like both of you to go to the canteen and see what can be easily prepared for an evening meal.”

  Sorenson nodded and started moving when Misha reached out to stop her. She glared at Damien. “Are you kidding me? Did you just order the two women to go make everyone dinner. Why don’t you go play Chef Android-r-dee while I go to the command deck and see if I can’t get a line on our abducted Captain?”

  Damien arched an eyebrow. “Do you honestly think your gender has any affect on my orders, Lt. Sokolov? I assure you it does not. As for the command deck, yes, that is where you, Keung, and I will be going, after, you and Ensign Sorenson find us all some food.”

  “Is that an order, sir?” growled Sokolov.

  “Sure,” said Damien, “if that helps you get down there more quickly, it’s an order.”

  “Fine,” snapped Misha, then bumped Linnea with a shoulder, “Come on, Barbie, let’s go play suzy homemaker. I’m sure the android patriarch has much more important things to do.”

  “Actually, he does,” said Linnea in a low voice, “and I know why you are being such a bitch right now. Please stop.”

  Misha rounded on her. “What are you talking about? Wait, you know what, I don’t really care. I’ll just go with you to the canteen while Damien fucks around with—”

  “He’s accepted Chao’s advice and is going to see James,” said the telepath and noted how the android’s eyebrows raised in surprise. She smiled at him. “You were right about becoming more human. I’m starting to get flashes from you.” She turned back to Misha. “Our navigator is in trouble and our commander is going to help him. You and I need to do what we can for our crewmates. Right now, that consists of making sure none of them go to bed hungry. I’m sorry if that is too dangerous a mission for you, but I’m going to the canteen and could use the help.” With that, Linnea spun on her heel, blonde hair whipping across her face, and disappeared down Galileo’s stairs.

  Misha stared at the empty hatch for several beats, then turned to Damien. “She’s right isn’t she?” He nodded. Sokolov sighed. “I think I just got schooled by Scandinavian Barbie, didn’t I?” Another nod. Misha shook her head. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I can be a real—”

  “Yes, you can,” Damien finished, “but I understand.”

  “Thanks,” she said, then gestured to the open hatch. “I’m just going to go make dinner now.”

  “Excellent,” said the android, as he swiped across his hand terminal. “I’ve ordered everyone to join you and Linnea in an hour. I assume that’s enough time.”

  Misha shrugged, noncommittally, then turned to leave. She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “You’re going to make sure he’s all right?”

  “I am,” said Damien. She nodded and disappeared into the darkness of the station’s hangar bay.

  Linnea looked up as Damien entered the canteen. He looked troubled. A second later Misha turned with a ladle full of something brown. “Here Barbie, try this. I think it tastes—” She took in Damien’s expression and handed Sorenson the utensil. “What?” she asked.

  Damien shook his head. “I believe this is one of the reasons Captain Omandi designed her succession plan.”

  “What is?” asked Misha and Linnea together.

  The android pointed in the general direction of ISZ’s crew quarters. “That…James. I don’t know what to do with him.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Misha. “Is he sick? Is he hurt somehow?”

  “That’s just it,” said Damien, “I don’t know. I tried to talk with him, but he just kept giving me respectful, but perfunctory, answers.”

  “Respectful?” asked Misha. The android nodded.

  “That’s not good,” said Linnea. She blew on the ladle, took a taste, then nodded. “This, however, is quite good.” She gestured to Misha. “You should go talk with James.
”

  Damien raised an eyebrow. “Misha? Why should she talk with him? Ensign, I came here to ask you to check in on him.”

  “I know you did,” said Linnea, “and I appreciate your confidence in me, sir, but I believe Misha will be more effective.”

  “Really?” he said, then stared at Sokolov for a long moment, “I don’t see why. I suspect something happened on our way back from Luna that is troubling to Branson. He needs counseling of a kind that I cannot provide. He does not need—” the android gestured at Misha, “to be berated by our security officer. The two of them can barely stand to be in the same room together.”

  “I’m going,” said Misha. She deftly untied her full length apron, balled it up, and tossed it at Damien. “You can finish cooking. Barbie may think the sauce is done, but I think it needs more wine, and a touch of salt.”

  The android stared blankly at the apron. “But, I don’t know how to cook. Howard-Prime was wealthy for more than one-hundred years. He rarely prepared his own food.”

  Misha started to breeze past him, but paused for a second to give Damien a quick pat on the cheek. “Then I suggest you try to recall memories from before he was wealthy. After all, I seem to remember some snooty android telling me that gender has nothing to do with cooking.” She patted his face again. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  Sokolov left the canteen without another word. Damien looked up from the apron to find Linnea smirking at him. “You need help putting that on?” she asked.

  Chapter 33

  The Masks We Wear

  Misha knocked on Branson’s door a second time. The quarters were more than adequate, but not so large that he could have missed her insistent pounding. Sokolov put her ear to the door and pressed the entry request button for the fourth time. She heard three tones chime from within, then pulled her head back and frowned. Misha slammed her fist against the metal door. It rang like a gong and the impact left a fist sized dent.