Nearspace Trilogy

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  “Okay, Hirin,” I said, settling comfortably against a mound of pillows and tucking the forest-green organic velvet coverlet around me, “spill. What happened with Jahelia Sord?”

  He pursed his lips and I thought he might try to evade the question again, but he must have read something in my eyes. He sighed. “Well, I think there was a lot more to her than the not-so-great PrimeCorp operative we thought she was at first.”

  “She proved that several times over,” I agreed. But that was an evasive answer; I could tell there was more. “What? What else?”

  “There was a message on the computer in her room. For you.” He dug a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. “This is what it said.”

  It didn’t take long to read. There were only fourteen words.

  Captain Paixon,

  Ask your mother about my father, Berrto Sord. I will see you both again.

  I looked up at Hirin, frowning. “Did you? Ask Mother?”

  He shook his head. “Thought I’d leave that for you. Jahelia Sord also,” he continued, “took the datachip from Cerevare’s quarters. The one Fha gave us, with all the Chron information on it.”

  I sat forward. “What?”

  “Guess we should have thought of it first,” he admitted grimly. “But she did leave copies of all the files on the computer in Cerevare’s room.”

  “That little—”

  “She also took her datapad with her, and left a fake one with me.”

  I couldn’t suppress a gasp at that. “That was our evidence—”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t get too excited. She left a full copy—as far as Baden can tell—of almost all its files.”

  “The Chron dictionary? The PrimeCorp files? Everything?”

  “Apparently. Everything except the AI itself. There’s also a personal log file she’d been keeping as sort of a journal. I didn’t read much of that, and put an encryption on it. Figured you should read it first, then decide who, if anyone, you want to share it with.”

  I relaxed against the pillows again, letting my momentary anger drain away. Jahelia Sord was nothing if not an opportunist, and she could certainly see the value in the tech and information she’d walked away with. I could hardly blame her for protecting her own interests. She’d at least had the decency to copy the files. I carefully folded up her note, running my finger along the sharp creases. I tucked it under the covers beside me. It—and Sord herself—would take some thinking about. “Thanks. So what’s going to happen with PrimeCorp?”

  Hirin settled back in the rose-and-yellow-striped wing chair and crossed his legs. “I gave Lanar the datapacket from Fha, and copies of all the PrimeCorp files from Sord’s datapad, and he delivered them to the Council. Currently there’s a huge uproar within the Nearspace Council—they’re trying to keep the story quiet, but it’s only a matter of time. Everyone in the corporation denies any knowledge of the Chron, or secret wormholes, or century-old collaboration—any of it. As they would. The files wouldn’t be admissible in court, because they were illegally obtained, but the Protectorate is launching a full investigation, and the files give them a roadmap. They’ve placed us all under temporary protection. We’ve told them everything we can, and they say heads will roll this time, but . . .”

  “PrimeCorp is trying to make sure that some people might go down, but the muck won’t splash very far up the ladder,” I finished for him.

  “I don’t know if they’ll be able to—not this time.”

  “Is the Protectorate planning to contact the Corvids?”

  Hirin nodded. “I talked to Lanar, and he says the Council feels it’s imperative—it’s nice to see them agreeing on something for once. Well, except for the ambassadors from the PrimeCorp worlds, of course. They’re still in full denial mode and trying to convince the rest of the Council that we suffered some mass hallucination or something. But I think Lanar intends to ask us to go through the Delta Pavonis wormhole again, once you’re better, with a full delegation.”

  I wasn’t sure what I thought of that. “I’d love to go back and learn more about the Corvids,” I said, “but ‘full delegation’ sounds like it would entail a lot of diplomacy. Sounds like it might get old really fast.”

  He half-smiled. “Agreed. But it is the Worlds Council. We might not have much of a choice.”

  “And it could be war,” I said. The thought sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with any inadequacy of warmth in the coverlet. I asked the question there hadn’t really been time to consider while everything was happening. “What’s PrimeCorp doing, Hirin? What do they want, working with the Chron? The—the broken ones, anyway, as my doctor friend called them.”

  Hirin steepled his fingers in his characteristic thinking pose, tapping them against his lips. “I’ve been considering that, and Lanar and your mother and I had a long chat about it. If our speculation is right, and their original association with the Chron began as a business deal, maybe that deal went sour—”

  “And led to the war?”

  He shrugged. “It could happen. I don’t imagine PrimeCorp was necessarily very well-versed in first contact protocols. Countless things could have gone wrong.”

  I pursed my lips and nodded. “And the Corvids stepped in and stopped it. But somewhere along the line, maybe tens of decades later, PrimeCorp made contact with the Chron again.”

  “Maybe to try and make a new deal,” Hirin said. “If they’d discovered a common enemy, or a common goal. And could see a profit in it.”

  “Or the possibility of a coup?”

  He stared at me. “You think PrimeCorp wants to literally control all of Nearspace?”

  It was my turn to shrug. “Could we completely discount it as a possibility?”

  He drew a deep breath and blew it out in a long sigh. “Completely? No. But it’s hard to get my head around.” He fiddled with the edge of the green coverlet, flipping the scalloped edge between his fingers. “PrimeCorp has become a bit of an enigma to me,” he said finally. “I know we’ve had nothing but trouble from them, but—they’ve done a lot of good, too.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  He shrugged diffidently. “The deeper I dig into everything about them, the more of a dichotomy I find. They support considerable charitable work. They manufacture medicines and equipment that improve the lives of Nearspace citizens—and don’t sell them all at exorbitant rates. They have divisions that don’t seem to have any corruption. I know there’s a lot that’s rotten at the higher levels of the management structure—”

  “You can say that again. I can smell the stink from here.” I’d crossed my arms over my chest and felt my brow furrow into a deep frown. What was Hirin saying? He’d seen and heard everything about PrimeCorp that I had. They’d been responsible for his prolonged illness and confinement in the nursing home, for heaven’s sake.

  He leaned back in the chair and ran his hands over the short salt-and-pepper stubble of his hair. “I’m not saying we were wrong about PrimeCorp. But I think they’re a little like the Chron—there’s a good side and a bad side. Not everyone involved with PrimeCorp is evil. It might be important to keep that in mind as things unfold. That’s all I’m saying.”

  I closed my eyes, silent as I thought about his words. I wanted to argue, but Jahelia Sord’s face rose in my mind. She’d been anything but black-and-white. I’d asked for this discussion, but maybe I wasn’t quite ready to take it all in. The enormity of PrimeCorp’s possible plans, and what Hirin was telling me, felt a bit staggering. Finally I opened my eyes. “Okej, we’re not going to think about it anymore right now.”

  He smiled, the skin crinkling at the corners of his grey eyes, and took my hand. “Aye, Captain. Any more burning questions?”

  “No, I guess that will do for now.” I squinted at him. “I do want you to do me a favour. Send Viss and Yuskeya in to see me, would you? Together.”

  “Sure. You going to sort them out, finally?”

 
I grinned. “Something like that. I think I should have done it long ago. And tell Mother I want to talk to her tonight, would you?”

  VISS AND YUSKEYA came in together about an hour later. I’d had a short nap, and I felt refreshed and ready to give those two a good talking-to. They didn’t look at each other when they entered the room, although Viss stood aside politely to let Yuskeya go first. She’d exchanged her Protectorate uniform for a turquoise-blue blouse and peasant-style skirt, and her face was more cheerful and relaxed than I’d seen it in a long time. She crossed to the bed to give me a warm hug.

  “Well, you look better.”

  “It’s not hard to improve on being slumped unconscious on the floor. But thank you. I feel better. And I wanted to thank you for helping me make it long enough to get to Mother.”

  “My pleasure,” she said, grinning. “Although I did have a little help along the way.”

  “Good to see you, Captain,” Viss said in a voice that was both deep and warm. He stood, almost at attention, at the foot of the bed.

  “I wanted to talk to both of you,” I began, “because I’ve discovered that almost dying refines one’s perspective on life wonderfully. Now, as Captain, I’ve tried to mostly stay out of my crew’s personal lives, but I’m neither unobservant nor stupid.”

  “Captain—”

  “No, I want you to listen. Both of you. I know that you care about each other, but that’s been strained ever since we came here to find Mother. Viss, I know you were surprised—as we all were—that Yuskeya is Protectorate—”

  He actually cut me off. “Captain, there’s no need—”

  “Prisilenti! Will you please let me finish? That’s an order! Now, I don’t know how much longer Yuskeya will be with us, and I want to see an end to this coldness—”

  And this time when they interrupted me, it worked. Viss strode forward, pulled Yuskeya up off the bed and into his arms, and they kissed very—decidedly. When they finally pulled apart and both smiled down at me, all I could say was, “Oh.”

  “We worked things out not long after we landed here,” Yuskeya said. “Once the initial excitement of saving your life was over, of course.”

  Viss shrugged, grinning. “I was an idiot for a while, that’s all. Men do that, you know?”

  Yuskeya put a hand over her heart and bowed. “As do women, from time to time. But we’re okay, Captain. Okej?”

  They left then, and I promised myself again that I wouldn’t get involved in my crew’s personal affairs.

  Rei was a different matter, because she was also my best friend. When she came to visit later in the afternoon, I had no trouble asking about her plans.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, sounding insulted. “Aren’t I still your pilot?”

  “Well, certainly—I just thought that you and Gerazan—”

  She smiled. “Gerazan and I got along very well, thank you. But with everything that’s happening—I mean with the Chron, and PrimeCorp—well, who knows what his next posting will be?” A shadow fell across her face as she contemplated the possibilities. Then she brightened again. Rei rarely let things bother her for long, absconding fiancés notwithstanding. “And I’ve got the Tane Ikai. However, we might spend some time together in a couple of months, if things work out and he can get some leave.” She winked at me.

  I pretended to be shocked. “But he’s not Erian! There couldn’t be anything long-term in that, or your mother would go crazy, remember?”

  Rei stood up to go, bending to hug me first. “My mother,” she said, “is a very resilient person. But we can talk about it more later. Feel better, Luta.”

  She opened the door and Mother appeared in the hallway. “How’s the patient?” Mother asked.

  “Feeling better,” Rei told her. “She’s up to asking impertinent questions.”

  Mother chuckled and crossed to the bed, pulled out her datamed and attached it to my implant. For the first few minutes she took readings, asked questions, and played the efficient doctor. She resembles me so strongly—well, I suppose I resemble her—that Hirin often jokes that he has a hard time telling us apart. Her nanobioscavengers have halted our aging processes a mere few years apart, so that contributes to the similarities. Today she had her auburn hair piled into a messy but elegant updo, and wore a plain, soft yellow shift dress.

  When she seemed satisfied with my checkup, she sat on the side of the bed and asked, “So, how do you really feel?”

  “A little tired still, but better. Everything working the way it should, now?”

  She nodded. “I’m still not sure what it was about the activator drive that made the bioscavs malfunction—or even if that was really it. Correlation isn’t causation, even though the two do appear to be connected. I need to do more research—particularly if we want to start getting the bioscavs out to people in Nearspace and we’re actually going to be investigating this new ghosting technology. We can’t have any incompatibilities.”

  “We might have other more pressing things to worry about,” I said. “What do you think will happen with PrimeCorp?”

  Mother shifted in the chair and clasped her hands. “It’s premature to speculate—but they certainly have some tough questions to answer, considering the information and evidence you delivered.”

  “I keep thinking they’ll still find a way to wiggle out of this somehow. That’s what really makes me angry. They always manage to get away with things.”

  “Maybe not this time. They might have finally overplayed their hand. This thing with the Chron—”

  “Alin Sedmamin and his directors will deny everything. It happened long ago, or he didn’t know about it, or it’s somebody else’s fault . . .”

  She smiled. “Even so, I’ll bet he’s not sitting very comfortably in that Chairman’s seat.”

  “Maybe.” I smoothed the coverlet over my legs, very aware of the note Hirin had given me tucked next to my leg. “Mother, who is Berrto Sord?”

  Mother raised her eyebrows. “Berrto Sord? Do you remember when you first found me, I told you how I’d taken my research and run from PrimeCorp, when we found out how they planned to use it?”

  I nodded.

  “And that the other researchers had agreed never to give their data over, either? But there was one colleague who wasn’t on board. I had to use some creative persuasion—call it blackmail, if we’re being honest—to convince him not to cooperate with PrimeCorp.”

  “Berrto Sord?”

  “Berrto Sord. But he died years ago. Why bring him up?”

  I sighed. “Because of this.” I pulled the note out from underneath the coverlet and gave it to her.

  She read it and returned her eyes to me, her brows drawn together. “I don’t get it.”

  So I told her the story of our encounter with Jahelia Sord, who’d gone from annoyance to slick PrimeCorp operative to—something else, in a short space of time. I told her what Sord had done for us—for me—and how I’d convinced Hirin to let her go. What I knew of her family, and the files she’d left behind.

  Mother’s eyes were wide by the time I’d finished, and she shook her head. “I can’t believe he stole the bioscavs—injected his family—”

  “Did exactly what you did?” I said wryly.

  She blinked at me and relaxed, laughing a little. “Well, yes.”

  “Do you think Jahelia Sord got a different version of the story from him? She was very—hostile, when we first encountered her.”

  “No doubt. Berrto Sord probably thought I ruined his life. But he wasn’t exactly lily-white or there’d have been nothing for me to hold over his head. And I still believe what I did was for the good of everyone in Nearspace.” She got up and walked to the window, gazing out at the inviting expanse of the mansion’s back gardens. “But I guess I’d say that, wouldn’t I? And he’d tell the story his way.”

  “Were they Erian? She wore the pridattii.”

  “Not that I recall. She might have been wearing them as a disguise.”
/>   “That’s what I thought. But it doesn’t make much sense, to disguise herself and then give me her real name. I think she thought I’d recognize it when she told me.”

  Mother sighed. “I don’t know. I’m sorry I made another enemy for you, Luta. I never thought my actions would have such far-reaching consequences.”

  I got out of the bed and joined her at the window, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. And—I don’t know if I’d call her an enemy; at least not now. I mean, she had chances to do me harm—probably more than I know. That might have been her original plan, but I think maybe, somewhere along the line, it changed. She helped out when we needed her. And she probably saved my life in the end. Certainly helped, anyway.”

  “Her own life was on the line some of those times, the way you tell it,” she said.

  “I know, but—I can’t put my finger on it. She turned out to be more complex than I thought at first. She was an enemy—and an ally. I don’t know which she is now, I guess.”

  Mother leaned over to kiss my forehead. “Well, try not to worry about it, okej? You’ll recover faster if you’re not worrying. And you might never see her again.”

  A shiver prickled across my skin, and I retreated to the bed and the comforting weight of its covers. “Oh, I doubt that. I doubt that very much. But no, I won’t worry about it. If Jahelia Sord wants to find me, I have a feeling that she will. I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

  She smiled. “Now, get a good sleep tonight, and maybe you can join us for breakfast in the morning.”