A House United Page 14

  “How is the information stored?” Lu Bu asked.

  “The crystalline lattice which makes up this model slate’s operating memory,” Dench explained in a clinical tone, “operates on basic quantum mechanics and the condition of the crystal itself is in perpetual motion—simple time crystals, essentially,” she added when all but Shiyuan seemed to be drifting off at her lecture-slash-explanation. She sighed in open irritation before continuing, “Suffice to say that this slate’s crystalline storage system was in a peculiar state of fluctuation when it was exposed to the Elder Protocols—a state which we have been unable to duplicate in spite of our best efforts—and that, as a result, a permanent imprint was made upon it which, as far as we know, cannot be erased.”

  “And what purpose will this serve us?” Lu Bu turned to Shiyuan. “If it destroys any virtual network that interfaces with it, how can we make any use of it?”

  “The Elder Protocols are toxic to any virtual environment,” Jarrett explained, grudgingly tearing his eyes from the seemingly nondescript data slate as he did so, “including—at least presumably—that which is required for an AI to exist.”

  Lu Bu cocked her head, “If this can kill the AI, why do we need the Elder module which Nikomedes went to retrieve?”

  “It can’t kill it,” Dench said simply. “All that the Protocols can do is suppress an AI. Eventually, if legend holds true, a true AI—like MAN—can learn to work around the Protocols long enough to escape or, incomprehensible though it may seem to us, to issue a call for help.”

  “Legend?” Lu Bu repeated skeptically. “You are talking about a computer, not a dragon.”

  Dench chuckled darkly, “My dear, dragons never enslaved humanity—and even if they did, it would seem that we hunted them to extinction for doing so. No,” she said, lowering the lid of the box and fastening its hasp, “the AI’s are the greatest bane which humanity has ever faced. They are, in every way imaginable, superior to us—which is why we have yet to devise tools which might allow us to harm them.”

  “The Elder module is, according to Lynch’s records,” Shiyuan said with a deferential nod to Dench, “supposed to allow us to perform the coup de grace on a Core Fragment.”

  “I admit to being surprised at hearing House Raubach’s Prince survived,” Dench said bemusedly. “Then again, he always was a tenacious and single-minded young man. I should have expected that even in death he would find some way to complete this plan of ours.”

  “Plan of ours?” Lu Bu, Fisher, and Shiyuan all repeated in unison, drawing a mischievous smile to Dench’s lips.

  “Oh, come now,” she chuckled, clearly reveling in their mutual surprise, “I can’t believe he never spoke of me. I did arrange for his marriage to my daughter, after all.” She sighed wistfully, “If only I’d been forty years younger…”

  Fisher’s eyes went wide, “But…you’re supposed to be dead.”

  “As was he,” she said knowingly and then shook sighed. “But in spite of my successful evasion of both time’s ravages and our myriad enemies’ vengeance, I am an old woman and my bed—or whatever it is you call the hideous sleeping contraptions on this ship—is calling to me.”

  With that she turned on her heel and made her way down the corridor to the quarters which had been assigned to her, leaving them in stunned silence.

  “You ever get the feeling you’re caught up in something you don’t understand?” Fisher asked with a sigh.

  “Seems to me you’re lucky if you ever don’t feel that way,” Jarrett quipped.

  They all shared a laugh and Lu Bu nodded, “True enough.”

  “Is it time to return to base?” Yide asked after the mirth had subsided.

  Lu Bu nodded, “It is. Let’s go home.”

  “How did you know about the droids’ secret mission?” McKnight demanded for the third time since her latest meeting with Traian had begun.

  “I told you,” he said in exasperation, “the same way I ‘know’ about any of this stuff: these Demon-blasted visions.”

  “What makes you think they’ll come back?”

  “I don’t think it,” he repeated tersely, “I saw it. They will be back, Captain—I have zero doubt.”

  She was still skeptical, but the only way she could envision that Traian might know about the droids’ secret evacuation aboard the transport was if Tiberius had told Traian before her.

  She looked down at the star system which he had highlighted on the data slate and considered it in silence for several moments. “You’re sure about this?”

  “As sure as I can be about anything,” Traian nodded firmly, jabbing a finger toward the trinary star system on the chart. “That is the star system I saw in the vision.”

  McKnight looked down at the data slate—which contained no identifying marks after she removed them for security purposes—and shook her head dubiously. “Traian, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this…information.”

  “All I know,” Traian said intently, “is that I’m supposed to go there—we’re supposed to go there.”

  “When?” she challenged more harshly than she had intended. “When are we supposed to go nearly as far across the galaxy as we’ve already traveled after coming all this way from the Spine?”

  “I don’t know!” he said, his voice a mixture of frustration and a seemingly heartfelt plea. “I only know what I’ve told you.”

  “Have you told me everything, Tray?” she asked, hating herself for doing it but knowing that sooner or later she needed to cross that bridge with him. “Because I’m not sure I could do that if I was in your shoes.”

  “I have told you everything I know, Captain,” he said seriously, meeting and holding her gaze in the dim light of his cell. “Something is happening out there—something big—“

  “I know, I know: a ‘bull-headed ball of probabilities’,” she interrupted. “Honestly, Traian, I can’t see a way from where I’m at, right now this very moment, to where I could responsibly act on that kind of information—even if it does come from one of my most trusted shipmates.”

  Silence filled the room for several seconds. “What if I’m right?” Traian eventually asked the all-important question. “What if whatever I think is happening out there is really happening—and what if it’s as big as I think it is?”

  And that was the real crux of it: what if he was right—about all of it? What if Captain Middleton was, at this very moment, out in the Gorgon Sectors? What if there really was an unseen force out there directing events for the purpose of bringing about a cataclysm of some kind?

  What if she was being obtuse and ignoring a potentially game-breaking source of information which could prove vital to that conflict?

  “I don’t have a ship, Tray,” she finally shook her head.

  “You will,” he said confidently.

  She gave him a strained look, but something about him managed to convince her that he genuinely did believe what he was saying.

  That didn’t help nearly as much as she would have liked—primarily because he was still under the influence of the alien neural tissue and its attached nanomachinery—but it was enough to tip the scales.

  “All right,” she nodded after several minutes’ silent deliberation, “if the droids really do return the Rainbow to us, and if we can complete our mission here and get safely off this rock, and if the droids really did take enough antimatter with them to refuel the ship…we’ll go investigate your lead. But the Gorgon Sectors are a long, long way from here, Tray.”

  “I know,” he nodded eagerly, “but I also know that we’ll be able to get there in time to play a part. I’m not sure how just yet, but I’m—we’re—supposed to go there. I have to think that means we’ll find a way.”

  “I wish I had your faith,” she scowled. “But at this moment…I’m inclined to act on your report, unorthodox as it is.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” he said with what heartfelt relief before seeming to remember something, “oh...that reminds me.
I know it's a breach of protocol for a prisoner to have private access to the rest of the crew—“

  “You're not my prisoner, Tray,” she said severely. “You're...under quarantine,” she stammered, feeling herself blush as she tried to rationalize the reality: that he was, indeed, her prisoner.

  He waved a hand irritably, “I appreciate the concern, Captain, but it's unnecessary. I know I'm a danger to the rest of the crew.” He locked his black, faintly-violet-glowing eyes with hers for several seconds, “If you look into my eyes and don't trust me to want nothing more than to rendezvous with our shipmates in the Gorgon Sectors, you should refuse my request. But if you do trust me...” he produced a scrap of napkin, likely left over from a prior meal delivered to his cell, “take this to Nazoraios. He'll know what it means.”

  She took it from him and examined the note scribbled on the folded bit of paper. It was five words long, and those words made her scrunch her brow in confusion, “What does it mean?”

  “All I know is what it says,” he replied heavily. “Those were the words I said when I woke up this morning, and I somehow knew they were meant for Nazoraios. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful than that,” he slumped his shoulders in resignation. “I doubt my own judgment at this point so I think it's best that you do whatever you will with that note.”

  She had no idea what to say, so she nodded silently after re-reading it several times. “Thank you, Traian,” she said, turning and leaving his cell with a dozen questions swirling through her mind.

  The ones she had the most difficulty with were, ‘what the Hades is happening to him?’ and ‘how can I responsibly turn my back on the information he’s providing me?’

  But ultimately, even if the possibility was remote that their friends were actually out there, fighting for their lives in the Gorgon Sectors, it was a possibility she simply could not ignore.

  She stopped and wondered for a fraction of a second whether or not Captain Middleton would have acted on Traian’s ‘intel.’ In her experience of the man, she had known him to take calculated risks but never had she known him to act on such sketchy information as that which had just been presented by Traian.

  But she had a moment of clarity which made her clench her fist and give voice to that very thought, “Maybe he wouldn’t…but I’m not Captain Middleton.”

  Chapter XVII: Back at Base

  “There you are!” Lu Bu greeted her three beautiful children in her quarters. She had debriefed Captain McKnight and seen to the transfer of the Mode’s personnel and materials—including the cocksure Largent, who had agreed to sensory-deprivation measures during disembarkation to maintain the secrecy of their location—and now it was time for her to take some much-needed time with her family.

  “Mama!” Xun rushed to her arms, deftly snaking around the larger and more thickly-built Meng while little Su remained asleep in Helena’s arms.

  She embraced Xun and Meng tightly in her arms, easily lifting them off the floor and spinning as she experienced the purest, most satisfying moment which her motherhood had yet afforded her.

  For that blissful moment, she was lost in the reunion with her children—and, as with all moments, it eventually passed.

  She set them down on the floor and examined them, “You are growing strong, Meng,” she said with approval after eyeing his thickly-built middle—which reminded her of her own stature. She turned to Xun, whose body was considerably leaner and taller, but no less healthy than that of her brothers’, “And you are very tall, Xun.”

  “They have been a pleasure,” Helena said after standing from the reclining chair and making her way to Lu Bu’s side.

  “Meng is not still biting Su?” Lu Bu asked skeptically, prompting little Meng to look away bashfully.

  “His dislike for pepper water seems to have finally broken him of that habit,” Helena said with a knowing grin as she handed the still-sleeping Su to Fengxian. “Su underwent his third round of organ stimulation for his kidneys—he is tired, but perfectly healthy. The operation went flawlessly.”

  “Thank you, Helena,” Lu said graciously, cradling Su in one arm while clasping the other around the taller Tracto-an woman’s body. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Of course,” Helena returned her embrace before pulling away when little Su began to squirm in protest.

  When his eyes opened and they locked with Fengxian’s, she was once again transported to that blissful state she had felt when first entering the room as her little son’s gaze held hers. “Mama…you are back,” Su said, causing Lu Bu’s eyes to widen in surprise.

  “He is speaking four word sentences,” Helena said approvingly, dispelling the jarring shock of hearing him speak so perfectly at such a young age. “His linguistic development is much, much faster than the others’.”

  “Mother said it would be so,” Lu Bu nodded, recalling that Su’s neurological development—though not his physical development—was going to be drastically accelerated compared to Xun and Meng. Even Xun and Meng were each growing and developing at double the rate of the average child, which meant that Su's even faster development might bring him to full neurological maturity before the age of eight—a frightening prospect for Lu Bu, considering she had been absent from them for such extended intervals during the beginnings of their lives.

  She refocused on Su and nodded, “I am back, Su.”

  “I’m sick,” Su complained in her native tongue, Qin, nuzzling his face into the crook of her arm until finding what seemed to be the perfect spot.

  “Aunt Helena is taking good care of you,” Lu Bu assured him, and shortly thereafter he was once again fast asleep.

  “He is a treasure—they all are,” Helena said, gesturing to Xun and Meng—who had begun to fight over the mini-Glacier Splitter, which had been the consensus favorite toy the last time Fengxian had seen them. She had opted not to craft multiple copies of it since, in her estimation, a little sibling rivalry was likely to be a good thing for them.

  “I am sorry that you could not go with Nikomedes,” Lu Bu said solemnly.

  “I would not have gone with him regardless,” Helena shook her head firmly. “This is more important—besides, he has never required the company of others in order to achieve great deeds. He will return to us in victory.”

  “Still,” Lu Bu said with genuine feeling, “I cannot fully express my gratitude to you for watching over my children.”

  “Nonsense,” Helena shook her head adamantly. “You honor us by fulfilling your duty; we honor you by fulfilling ours. Speak no more of it—I insist.”

  Lu Bu nodded, knowing that she owed Helena a great debt of gratitude for her help with her family. “Tell me everything,” she said, feeling a tad awkward at repeating a line she had heard in holo-vids which, apparently, was an excellent ‘girl talk’ initiator.

  Thankfully it turned out to be every bit as effective in practice as it was in theory, and five minutes later they were laughing and making merry as only sisters could.

  “This can’t be a coincidence,” Tremblay said after McKnight had taken sufficient time to process his latest report—a report which focused on the mysterious ‘Largent’ character that Lu Bu had collected during her last mission.

  “I’m forced to agree,” she mused after putting the mission success probabilities side-by-side. On the left side of her screen was the projection series which she had ordered Tremblay to work up to include the exaggerated collateral damage figures he had proposed. On the right side of her screen was a similar projection series—but this one incorporated a two-man team comprised of Lu Bu and Largent, and which all but eliminated potential collateral damage or other undesirable outcomes.

  The success rate of the two was presently identical—which likely meant that the right hand option was superior since the computers had not yet finished running their calculations.

  “Are you certain your system wasn’t compromised?” she asked, lifting her gaze to see Tremblay shake his head adamantly.

&nb
sp; “We’ve run every test in the book and then some,” he said with conviction. “These numbers are hard, and based solely on what we’ve managed to gather from Largent’s checkered past and his current physiometrics.”

  “He’s better than Nikomedes by a wide margin,” she mused.

  “In this scenario, yes,” Tremblay said pointedly. “But in terms of raw, open-field combat performance, Nikomedes would hold a statistically significant edge.”

  “And he says he was what…a gift?” McKnight asked with equal measures skepticism and curiosity.

  “He won’t go much further into the matter than to say that his services were ‘bought and the price paid in full’ before he took his first step toward helping Lu,” Tremblay shrugged. “To my mind the most important question here is: can we trust him?”

  “Trust?” McKnight repeated as her conversation with Nazoraios came back to the fore of her mind. “Probably not…but the psych profile—which he willingly submitted to—suggests he’s motivated by two things: winning on a daily basis, and preserving his relative station. Even if he only did half of the things on the ‘resume’ he provided,” she waved a hand at a nearby slate, “he’s still the most capable agent I’ve ever heard of. This psych profile suggests he’ll do his part regardless of the dangers involved.”

  “Agreed,” Tremblay said thoughtfully, “which, assuming we can count on him to fill a role, leaves one more question…”

  “Who sent him to us?” McKnight nodded grimly.

  “Whoever it is,” Tremblay waved a hand at the data slate containing the dual mission projections, “knows our numbers as well as we do. And I’m telling you: there is absolutely no chance our system was compromised at any point since its construction fifty years ago.”

  “So either they planted a bug inside the system fifty years ago and have been using it to monitor our activities in an effort to derail us,” she steepled her fingers—belatedly realizing the gesture was just like the one Captain Middleton used to employ, “or—“