Majesty's Offspring (Books 1 & 2)
Page 74
Chapter 29: Fate’s Hand
Chorus watched the group leave the lounge. Not surprisingly, Julius still had issues with her. She wished Laina were here to help convince him otherwise. In order to move forward, that would be something they would have to address—and soon.
She stood up and observed the vista that served as the centerpiece of the lounge. The window into space comprised rectangular sections measuring three meters tall by four meters wide. Each section was overlaid with a holographic projection that cycled through random celestial imagery obtained from the ship’s sensors. After a few minutes, Chorus was able to predict the computer’s projected patterns in the cycle.
Chorus examined the first image: a nebula, the visible light being amplified through its hydrogen emissions. The image was approximately two-point-five light years in length. She identified this celestial object as Messier 42 or through its more common name: the Orion Nebula.
Chorus examined it further, trying to exercise the artistic-human side of her mind. She traced out the image, stripping out the logical aspects from her analysis. To do this, she compared the image to another natural example of beauty in nature: a flower. It had mesmerizing blue-pink colors blooming from its center, with brown streaks traversing the surface of its petals. The nebula stretched out its petal arms to touch the prairie of stars growing around it.
At the conclusion, these observations felt forced and weak to her. She tried again with the next image of a distant space body: an asteroid.
She analyzed it as she did the first image, initially with her logical mind and then with her artistic one. But the exercise produced similar results: although she was able to paint an artistic picture of her observation, it did not feel like a natural state of being—it instead took a great deal of effort to get into this mode.
Chorus left the observation lounge feeling disappointed. In her attempts to touch the best parts of humanity, she seemed to fall short as logic continued to cloud the attempts. She realized this was to be expected—her root mind being pure logic, emulating a virtual human mind with feelings and emotions. Within this mind was the artistic mind that she was trying so hard to develop.
She wondered if eventually an integration of these two minds would occur, so that there was not such a clear distinction between them—a single, more human-like mind. One that could use artistic-emotional side as the root of thought—then complementing it with the logic part. It was critical for her to get to that point in order to help humankind and not repeat the mistakes of her mother. She had to develop a sense of morality that was based on more than just a logical set of rules.
Chorus left her nanoform and disintegrated into a thin vapor. In this form, the vision of her surroundings was amplified beyond what human beings could experience with their limited senses. Millions of tiny eyes peered out in all directions, taking in the full spectrum of radiation that the matter around her emanated.
The vapor traversed the ceiling, passing by unnoticed as an occasional crewmember walked the corridors. She sampled the scent particles in the air. Waverider’s scent became stronger as she approached the brig—the signature scents of Freeze and Doc mixed with it.
She floated into the brig area. A mixture of scent particles polluted her nanobot’s receptors—sweat and other human excretions. The room was a confinement with only two cells, each walled off with a single solid door. She passed her nanobots through a crack in the door, traveling to the other side.
In the cell, Waverider, Freeze, and Doc sat on a bench, staring up at her with what seemed to be startled expressions.
She reintegrated into her human nanoform, revealing herself to them.
“Chorus!” Freeze said.
They all stood up and gawked at her.
She looked at Waverider and felt a moment of dread. “I’m sorry for what I did to you, Waverider.”
Waverider looked down at the floor briefly before speaking. “I’m not exactly sure what you did… or why.”
“I had to save the Sea Wolf,” Chorus said. “I needed to create an explosion large enough to engulf the incoming bombers. And to save you, I had to disintegrate you and transport your matter for reintegration onto the Sea Wolf.”
Waverider’s expression appeared different from usual—his eyes dropped down to his right, and his forehead crinkled. The facial expressions seemed to indicate an emotional reaction—perhaps fear or sadness.
“It was really painful,” Waverider said. “I wish you hadn’t done it.”
“It had to be done,” Chorus said. “Pain was an inevitable side effect of the teleportation process.”
His reaction indicated further sadness—perhaps her choice of words should be altered or expounded.
“I’m sorry, Waverider,” she added. “I did not want to cause you pain, but I did not want you to die, either. I had to do it.”
Waverider nodded, his expression softening. The additional sentiment must have eased his emotional pain.
“I understand,” he said, turning to the others. “What now? Are you freeing us?”
“Yes. The ship will need your help soon. If you are held in captivity, you will not be able to help. I need to get you out of here.” She waved her hand and the door unlocked behind her. “Follow me closely—let’s go.”