Admiral Wolf

by C. Gockel

  Ran raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm …” A clock chimed in the hall.

  “Well, you would know him best,” he said, stepping too close.

  Alexis remained immobile. Who had sent him? Or was he doing this on his own?

  “Of course he’ll come back,” Ran said. “He has you and his three boys, and you still are as beautiful as ever. How could he dishonor you?” He sounded angry again.

  “He never has,” Alexis said defiantly, and then regretted it. It was the most obvious lie. Of course Alaric had dishonored her at Stella Tudor’s party when he’d stood up for his former weere. Ran had been there, and he knew. Not that it had been any dishonor in Alaric’s estimation. In his mind, he’d merely been speaking the truth: that Volka was a hero in the war against the Dark. And Volka had been … and now she was with Alaric at his bedside, and Alexis was here. Her eyes darted to Sam and Lucas. Alaric would never leave them. The realization left her hollow inside.

  Ran gave her an indulgent smile, and she knew he could see through her lie.

  “Well,” he said, straightening. “I can’t stay long. I’m being redeployed. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know we have found the pirates who managed to bring the single locale gate into our system.”

  Watching Sam and Lucas chase each other on the lawn, she started. “Single locale gate?”

  He gave her another indulgent look. “The gate that was used to transport you out of the system during your kidnapping.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “We have all the ringleaders now,” Ran added.

  The “all” was a taunt. The other ringleaders had been Alexis’s family. Alexis was too shaken to be angry. “They’re still alive?” Alexis asked.

  Ran shrugged. “While we have use of them.”

  Alexis’s mind whirled. “They’re infected …” Her eyes widened. “They must be destroyed, Ran … immediately. It’s too dangerous to let them remain alive!”

  For just a moment, Ran’s indulgent smile dropped. His lips parted, and she saw fear. But then he smirked. “You worry too much, Alexis. “ He sighed. “You had a traumatic experience. One that you could never be prepared for, but we know what we’re doing.”

  His patronizing tone made him sound so much like her father … but, no, Ran wouldn’t have been given command of a faster-than-light ship if he was as unreliable as her father. The Guard was very good at funneling incompetent men from important families into obscure postings. So Ran might not be a complete fool, but her mother’s words came to her mind. “Even smart men have blind spots.”

  This was too important for him to be blind. “Ran, please, it is dangerous.” She didn’t realize she’d stepped closer to him until he reached out a hand. She saw it coming toward her face to cup her cheek, as though in slow motion. She had a moment of clarity: she didn’t want him to touch her, but she felt the need to be polite. This man was fishing to see if her husband was a potential traitor; she couldn’t afford a misstep. A sharp hiss came from her pocket, and the tiny werfle she’d rescued poked its nose out. Withdrawing his hand, Ran looked down and scowled. “One of them has you, too.” The derision was thick in his voice.

  Not quite able to hide her smile of relief, Alexis plucked the creature from her pocket. “Oh, how can you not like it? It’s just a baby.”

  Ran narrowed his eyes at the werfle. The creature wrapped itself around her hand and hissed back at him.

  “You’ve hurt its feelings,” Alexis said, scratching it behind the ear.

  “You’re too tender hearted,” Ran said.

  And you are patronizing, she didn’t say. Instead, she said, “Please be careful, Ran. I am worried for you.” It was the truth. He didn’t understand the dangers of the Dark.

  Ran softened. “I will be, Alexis. I promise. You be careful, too. Your push to get the female weere to the Republic …” He winced dramatically. “There are a lot of high-ranking officers who are upset. Those weere were important here.”

  She bristled … they were important only so long as they were prostitutes.

  Ran dipped his chin, eyes on hers. “And the Republic … isn’t our friend, Alexis.” His gaze flicked to the werfle. “But I know that might be difficult for a woman like you to understand.”

  She gave a tight smile and said, “Thank you for coming over.” She wanted to remind him again that the Persians had won the second Peloponnesian War. When he left, she didn’t slam the door on him, no matter how much she wanted to. She was right to help the Republic; she knew she was.

  The werfle kneaded its tiny paws against her fingers. “Cheep!” it said confidently.

  “At least someone believes in me.” The little thing fit on her outstretched hand, and she could feel its hearts beating and the faint vibration of its purr. She stroked it, feeling her muscles loosen and her anxiety subside. And then she froze. Ran was wrong to be blasé about the danger of the Dark, but he was right about Alaric. Her husband did admire the Republic, and he did have connections there. At a certain point, even love for their boys might not be enough to make him return—hadn’t he told her once he knew she could raise them alone? And Alaric loved Volka, and now he was alone with only her.

  In her hand the werfle made a mournful meep.

  16

  Crossed Circuits

  Galactic Republic: Time Gate 1

  A few hours after delivering Zhao, Volka stood in Sundancer’s berth in Time Gate 1. It was a large cavernous room with airlock doors behind her that led to the gate proper, and airlock doors above that led to the stars. Minutes before the berth had been busy with Marines loading and unloading the ship. Now only a few Marines stood guard at the inner doors. Sundancer hovered before her, waiting anxiously, hull a faint gray with occasional flashes along its surface. Sundancer knew they would leave soon on an important mission but did not really understand what that mission was. Volka, Carl in her arms, walked toward her. Lifting her hand, she dragged her fingers along Sundancer’s surface, and light trailed in the wake of her touch. Sundancer’s keel opened, and the ship sank around Volka. She stepped onto the bridge and felt the ship rise.

  Volka walked toward the back of the craft and the side compartments opened, revealing their contents. In case they were stranded they had enough food and water for two weeks and air mattresses. They also had weapons, electronics, two gel toilets, and just enough space for the team of sixteen Marines, Dr. Patrick, Volka, and Carl to pack into when Sundancer had to open the bridge.

  In her arms, Carl sighed, and his whiskers sagged, and a vision came to Volka’s mind unbidden: 6T9 sitting cross-legged in his asteroid’s grasslands, holding out a hand. The angle was all wrong, and she knew it was one of Carl’s memories.

  He missed Sixty, too.

  “Hurumpf, do not!” Carl grumbled, putting a pair of paws over his nose.

  “Of course,” Volka said, scratching him behind the ears.

  Carl sniffed. “Can’t a werfle have any mental privacy?”

  Volka narrowed her eyes at the back of his tiny head. He could shield his thoughts when he wanted to, but moreover, he read her thoughts all the time. He flicked his ears. “Well, it’s different when I read your mind without permission. You’re my pet.”

  Volka rolled her eyes and refused to feel guilty.

  Contradicting his perhaps semi-feigned ire, Carl said, “You shouldn’t feel guilty. Control is something that comes with practice. I wouldn’t be a very good parental triad member if I really nagged a hatchling for that.”

  She didn’t feel guilty for reading Carl’s mind—he’d left it open as a test; she was sure. But reading Alaric’s thoughts was a different matter. It was invasive and unnecessary. Alaric wouldn’t have withheld information from her.

  “I’ll teach you how to control your telepathy, Hatchling,” Carl promised. “But not now. I’m tired, and your thoughts are chaotic.”

  Volka’s shoulders fell. Her brain was whirring with the debriefing after Zhao’s delivery. She was worried about
Zhao—the initial stages of infection were brutal. How long had it been before Alexis’s fever had begun? How long had it been before they’d dosed Ben up on painkillers and fever reducers? A day or two at most, if she remembered correctly.

  And she was worried about Sixty. She didn’t want to call him and risk distracting him. She walked into the compartment with the air mattresses, saw the “holomat” they’d used before, and had an inspiration.

  “Bracelet, could you replay my last conversation with Sixty?” It would be like looking at a photograph of him—but better. She was allowed to moon over a “photo” of her fiancé a little, wasn’t she?

  “Oh, yes,” Bracelet said. “I can even give the conversation a soundtrack! Something romantic!”

  The holomat flickered and began to play maudlin music. Holographic cursive letters twined into the air. Volka’s ears curled as she read, Android General 1 and Miss Volka: an Epic and Unlikely Romance Between the Most Sophisticated and Exalted of Machines and a Unique, Seemingly Simple, Carbon-Based Life Form.

  Bracelet coughed. “I took some creative liberties.”

  The lettering vanished with a dramatic “pop,” and she saw holos of herself and Sixty in the gray nothing of the mindscape. He looked very handsome, even if his expression was very serious. She’d been so upset during their conversation that her memories of it were blurry and indistinct.

  The holo Volka had her head in her hands. “I’ve done something terrible,” she whispered.

  In the “soundtrack,” a cymbal crashed, and Bracelet hummed, “Dun, dun, dun!”

  Frowning, the holo Sixty whispered, “Darmadi.”

  In the real world, Volka’s ears went forward, and then flattened back. Why would the first word he said have to have been that? “Stop, Bracelet! Stop!”

  The holo flickered out. “You didn’t like my musical selection?”

  “No, no, it’s just …” Had he thought she’d betrayed him … with Alaric? There was no worse insult to a weere than the charge of infidelity. It was what separated them from humans. Among her kind, such an accusation demanded a defense of one’s honor—violently, if need be. She bit her lip. Her palms grew slick with worry and her heartbeat quickened. She wasn’t on Luddeccea … Sixty wasn’t a weere, wasn’t even Luddeccean … but he couldn’t have thought so little of her … could he?

  All was quiet between Time Gate 5 and New Grande. 6T9’s cutter still hadn’t begun reentry, and scopes detected no other ships, friend or foe. Jazz was piping from the main cabin. The humans were eating and talking. Kurz was charging. 6T9 was alone on the bridge … and thinking of Volka and her terrible mission. He wanted to see her and comfort her—but when he communicated via Q-comm, his local visual and auditory senses went offline. He blinked and eyed the cord running from his temple to the ship. Besides charging him, it gave him access to the ship’s sensors. He could close his eyes and still “see” the ship’s surroundings. The ship’s sensors provided data from the real world “predigested” into something a computer brain could easily interpret. Suddenly seized by inspiration, he closed his eyes, created a mindscape, and piped that predigested data stream into the mindscape with him. Stars stretched out around him, and the planet glowed below in real-time. He could multi-task!

  He reached out, “Bracelet, is Volka available?”

  She might not be available. She might be with Darmadi. To keep from obsessing on that circuit breaking thought, he focused on his mindscape … and realized it made “him” appear to be floating in open space. That might be disconcerting to Volka if she joined him here. Drawing from his eidetic memory, 6T9 created a virtual replica of the cabin and an avatar of himself seated in the pilot chair sans the power cord trailing from his open face.

  “General!” the disembodied voice of Bracelet declared a millisecond later. “Volka was just asking me to replay your last virtual conversation on the holomat. I believe she would like to speak with you, winky, winky. Shall I connect her?”

  6T9’s circuits lit. Volka was available. She wasn’t with Darmadi. And she’d been thinking of him.

  “Put her through!” 6T9 replied.

  Two milliseconds later, a Volka-shaped cloud of glitter emerged between the pilot and co-pilot’s chairs in the virtual-reality bridge. Bracelet apparently had a flair for dramatic entrances. At that thought, the avatar version of Bracelet on Volka’s avatar’s wrist sparkled, and the glitter dissolved until he was staring at Volka’s profile. She wasn’t wearing her envirosuit, but a more casual dress, and boots. She looked small and vulnerable. Her eyes were wide, startled, and focused on the stars.

  “We’re heading to New Grande,” 6T9 explained. “The Infected realized that they wouldn’t be able to keep the gate, so they’re going where they can cause the most pain. I have a plan to protect the local populace.”

  Volka was standing, and he was sitting, and at his words, she looked down at him. She was close enough that he could press a virtual kiss to her hip. He’d be able to feel the sensation of it—his mind could stimulate the appropriate sensors by calculating her probable body temperature and the softness of the fabric, and by recalling how her body had felt beneath his hands. But she would feel nothing.

  She raised a hand to his shoulder, and it passed through. She frowned down at her fingers. He was just a specter of sound and light to her because this virtual ‘scape wasn’t piped directly to her neurons via a neural interface.

  He wanted to kiss her, but it would be one-sided. “Why don’t you sit down?” He inclined his head to the copilot’s chair. Volka looked at it hesitantly, and he said, “If you sit down wherever you are, Bracelet can make it seem like you’re sitting in the chair.”

  Volka went to the chair hesitantly and sat down cross-legged. Wherever she was, she was sitting on the floor, but here, they were at eye level. He smiled. Wherever she was, she wasn’t with Darmadi, and that was the important thing. “I am glad to see you.” She’d been terribly upset last time he’d seen her. She may or may not have been in physical danger, but she’d certainly been through an emotional wringer. Sensitive sex ‘bot that he was, he asked, “How did the ambassador’s drop off go?”

  Volka’s ears folded. Twining her fingers in her lap, she studied her hand. “It went about as Zhao thought it would. I couldn’t bring myself to watch the holo recordings afterward, but in debriefing, Noa—Admiral Sato—said that it was going a long way toward convincing hold-outs in the Galactic Senate.”

  So the holo record had been something terrible. 6T9 didn’t know Rushi personally, but he knew of her, and that she was devoted to her human grandfather. It was terrible to watch a biological organism age and die. And terrible to think of what your life would have been without them … so when you had the opportunity to do it all over again, you found yourself diving right back into the pool again. His hand went to his side and reflexively touched Eliza’s ashes. Outside, the horizon of the planet below was coming closer, and he could see the lights of New Grande. He didn’t have a lot of time, and he wanted to say something that would reassure Volka that there couldn’t have been a better outcome for Rushi or Zhao. Death was inevitable, but Eliza had always believed that death was better than not using her life to give back. He understood that now.

  Volka interrupted his thoughts. “Sixty, did you think that I … that I … betrayed you … with Alaric?”

  His sex ‘bot operating system informed him her tone said she was hurt. On the one hand, the logical part of him wanted to protest that it wasn’t an unreasonable supposition based on her monogamous nature. On the other hand, another part of him was screaming, “Lie, you bucket of bolts!” His sex ‘bot operating system, perhaps confounded by the two very different responses, settled on, “Errrr …”

  “How could you think that?” Volka whispered.

  Again, his sex ‘bot programming told him she was even more hurt, but this time his Q-comm took control, and sounding like a robot, even to himself, he replied, “You are a monogamous species, and you are co
nnected to him telepathically in a way you can never be with me.”

  Volka’s ears stood straight up. “I said I would marry you. Are you doubting my word?”

  His original operating system informed him that now she was angry. But his Q-comm was still in control. “You never said that you would marry me.”

  “Yes, I did!” Volka protested.

  Bracelet chirped on her wrist, “In point of fact, you did not explicitly agree to marry him.”

  Volka’s eyes went to the piece of jewelry on her wrist, sparkling unnaturally brightly. She ripped Bracelet off and held the device up in the air. “You and Bracelet have eidetic memories. You can talk to each other in a way I never can.”

  Sixty wanted to interrupt, to point out the obvious, the ether and Q-comm mindscapes were code, ones and zeroes, not predicated on emotional attachments to the recipients.

  But Volka charged on. “You … you … have encyclopedias open in your minds or your processors or random-access memories or whatever and calculators and maps available to you all the time, and I never will. I expect sometimes you think I am an idiot. I wouldn’t expect that you’d think I would betray you!”

  6T9’s local emotion processing applications returned: Hurt. Angry. Hurt. Angry. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. His Q-comm, the part of him that supposedly made him smart, returned nothing at all.

  Osprey’s voice erupted in the mindscape. “Ooh … pretty fireworks.”

  An alarm blared in the real world, and since it was the ship’s alarm and 6T9 was linked to the ship, it blared in the virtual world, too.

  Standing, Volka set Bracelet down on the co-pilot’s chair. “Don’t die, Sixty,” she said and vanished.