by Eric Warren
Ronde turned away from them and Evie thought she saw his eyes shimmer. He’d done it all for nothing. Based on prodding and pressure from Page. “Am I…” he began, his voice shaking.
Evie took him by the shoulders, forcing him to face her. “I understand this is hard, and this is not entirely your fault. But you did have a role in it and you have to take responsibility for that.”
He nodded, doing his best to maintain his composure.
“Take a few minutes for yourself then report to the bridge,” she said. “We need you on the helm. We’ll discuss your punishment later.”
He nodded again and she dropped her arms, allowing him to leave the room.
Amargosa turned to Evie. “Commander please, you have to understand we didn’t—”
“Save it,” she said, putting her hand up. “I trust I’ve made myself clear on this matter.”
They both murmured agreements.
“Then wait outside until the doctor is finished. I don’t want you near Box again, is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Amargosa said.
“Dismissed.”
As soon as they were gone she turned back to Box. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he replied. But his voice was too even, too steady. She glanced up at Xax.
“Another ten minutes, then we’ll be done and he’ll be as good as new.”
Evie reached over and took Box’s working hand. “I’m so sorry they did that to you. And I wasn’t there to stop them.”
“It’s okay,” he replied, still emotionless.
“I don’t think it is, but we’re going to make it okay. Once the doc is done I want you to return to sickbay with them. We’re going back into Sil space within the hour and we need as many good medics as we can get.”
“I think I’ll just return to my room,” Box said. “That way I won’t be a distraction.”
“You’re not a distraction,” Nurse Menkel said. “You’re a great medic.”
Box didn’t reply. Instead, he turned away from all of them, staring at some unknown point in space.
Evie’s heart fell, but she didn’t let go. She was going to make this right. One way or another she would make it right for him.
29
It was hard to tell how long he’d been walking or that he’d been walking at all. If not for the solid floor underneath him Cas might have assumed he’d tumbled off somewhere, strolling along a corridor that no longer existed. Something was wrong; he should have run into a wall by now. Based on the size of the Sil ship when he approached there was no way it could be this long inside. In fact, the ship looked quite compact; smaller than the Tempest itself. If he’d been on board his own ship he would have covered about three decks by now.
Periodically he’d reach out with his hands, moving to the left and right to feel the walls but coming up empty. He had nothing to go by, and that made all of this stranger. When he’d entered with the Sil he had seen walls, hallways, but now without their auras there was nothing. What if instead of falling from the restraint he’d asphyxiated himself instead? Perhaps this was the purgatory of the afterlife, an endless, black path, leading nowhere. That theory made more sense than an infinite corridor on a decidedly non-infinite ship. Where was the crew? Where was anything at all?
So far, he’d been nothing but cautious. Perhaps he needed to take a few risks. No sooner did the thought cross his mind before he smacked face first into something hard and strong, knocking the air out of him and sending him tumbling backward. He cartwheeled his arms back and fell on the floor, wincing at the pain in his face.
He stood, rubbing the sore spots on his face and extended his hands, feeling for the structure he’d run into. As his hands felt the metal Cas felt a sinking feeling in his gut. This was his shuttle. Somehow he was back in the shuttlebay. Though he’d been walking for a good thirty minutes and the trip from here to where they’d restrained him took less than three. Had he really traveled in a large circle? He’d come upon the one thing on this ship he’d been looking for. His luck couldn’t be that good.
Feeling his way around the outer hull, Cas slowly made his way to the door, which was still open. He climbed inside and felt for the controls, activating them as soon as he could reach them. The lights in the shuttle illuminated, prompting him to close his eyes. He turned the luminosity down to its lowest setting as he peered through the small slits of his eyes. When he finally opened them again he was glad to see everything in the shuttle as it had been; the Sil hadn’t touched a thing. He went to the back and pulled out the emergency kit on board, complete with portable lights. He opened one and pocketed the second, affixing the first on the end of his forearm. There was also a blaster inside but he left it. Despite the Sil’s threats to kill him nothing would be gained by trying to match their threats. With his luck the blaster wouldn’t work on them anyway.
Cas turned on the light, shining it all over to the shuttle; it had a good beam and would at least allow him to navigate this ship. Maybe even build a mental map. Though he still couldn’t figure out how he got back here.
The next order of business was to find Zenfor. Convince her of his claims. Cas returned to the control console and double-checked the databanks. Zenfor had been right, any trace of the information he’d downloaded was gone. Could the Sil have destroyed it themselves? There was no way to be sure. But here he was without any sort of proof of his claims, except the information in his head. It would have to do.
Cas jumped back at the imposing black figure standing before him. “Fuck!” he yelled, his heart rate skyrocketing. It was like a physical shadow, completely devoid of any detail, standing at the door to the shuttle. Slowly its head aura began to glow purple, illuminating all the runes all over its body, though they didn’t glow. But they definitely hadn’t been there before.
The Sil stepped closer, its hand out. The long fingers curled around Cas’s shoulder.
“They said you’d try to escape,” the Sil said. This was a different one than the guards who’d brought him in. It sounded like a male.
“I wasn’t trying to escape,” Cas said.
“Your actions and movements have been logged since the moment Zenfor left you. We have seen everything.”
The Sil let go of his shoulder. Cas ran his light over him, but the beam seemed to end as it passed over the Sil’s form. As if his body absorbed the light instead of reflecting it. “All I want,” Cas said, ignoring the strange phenomenon, “is to have an opportunity to speak. To prove what I have told you is true.”
“Consul Zenfor provided you with the opportunity. You squandered it.”
“She barely gave me the opportunity to say a word,” Cas said. “This isn’t something I can explain in one sentence. It requires someone to listen to me. I want to give you the information. To forge an alliance.”
“Providing information and forming an alliance are two very different things,” the Sil said.
“Who are you?” Cas asked.
“Pregūn Kayfor. I am ship’s guard. I’m to escort you to your trial.”
“You were there, with me while I walked along, weren’t you?” Cas asked, cutting his eyes toward the Sil. He hadn’t exactly felt a presence near him, but it explained why no one came to get him after he was free from the restraints.
Kayfor swayed, as though he was taking a deep breath. “We can’t have you running around alone. It is my job to observe you. This may be the only opportunity we have to interact with the Coalition.”
Cas dropped the light so it only shone on the floor. “Wouldn’t it be better for both of us if that interaction was positive? On both ends? There’s no need for a trial. I came here to warn you. Nothing else.”
Cas caught what he thought might be a chuckle, though it was impossible to tell as Kayfor had no mouth. “Attempted escape overrides all previous interactions,” he said. “And there must be a trial.”
“I wasn’t escaping,” he protested again. “If I were why would I be holding
a flashlight? I could’ve just tried to blast my way out of here.” Cas furrowed his brow. “Are you telling me if I’d stayed where your people put me, I wouldn’t have to defend myself?”
Kayfor’s aura glowed brighter. “No. The previous charges against you for the death of the Sil crew would be applied instead.”
Cas threw his hands up. “So, none of that matters now? Isn’t escaping less serious than killing ten people?”
“Are you admitting you tried to esc—?”
“No,” Cas snapped. “No…I’m trying to understand your justice system.”
Kayfor spread his hands wide. “It is very simple. A crime is committed and the person committing the crime pays for their error. The trial determines the punishment, independent of the crime. Now,” he took one of Cas’s arms with his outstretched hand, “accompany me.”
“Wait!” Cas yelled. “Wait, look, if I was trying to escape, I would’ve either armed myself or tried to use my shuttle to leave. I’m still here and there’s a blaster in that case back there. How do you explain that?”
Kayfor’s “head” turned and seemed to stare at the case containing the blaster. They had to have a way to see, that much was certain.
“I came in here for a flashlight, and to find out what happened to my files.” Cas shone the beam across Kayfor’s “face”, though it never quite reached him. “If I was going to find my way back to your captain I needed to be able to see. I need to explain.” The Sil’s “head” turned back around to face him.
“As I said, I am here to take you to punishment. There your life will end as it began: small and inconsequential. But you will have the sweet release of death to enjoy. We are doing you a favor.”
“What?” Cas yelled. “My fate is already decided? But I haven’t even had the trial yet!”
The Sil let out a noise Cas could only assume was exasperation. “It is our way for all inferior species. We are helping you. Your existence otherwise will only continue to be fruitless and inconsequential.”
“It wasn’t so inconsequential when I saved your ship!” Cas yelled as Kayfor pulled him out of the shuttle by the arm. The Sil was strong; his hand felt like it could be made of steel itself. If Cas pulled too hard, he could pop his shoulder from its socket, so he allowed himself to be led along. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy. Maybe there was someone else at the trial he could speak to. Laska’s words flashed through his mind. Understand the other side. Cas stared at his feet, shining the light down. He’d never seen metal like this before.
“Pregūn Kayfor, could you tell me how the shuttle ended up here?” he asked, trying to keep the anger at his unfair treatment out of his voice. “When I left it was somewhere else, a much smaller room.”
“This is a holding facility,” Kayfor said. “A place where we store large items such as your shuttle. Our ship brought it here for us. To clear the way.”
“Your ship?” Cas scanned the area with the beam of light from his arm. The room was huge, by an order of magnitude over the opening he’d arrived in. This was most obvious by the distance from the shuttle to the corridors, they had to be at least fifty meters away. His curious mind couldn’t help it; how had this ship been constructed? And how could it seem to change on him? Ships were static, not dynamic. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Renglas isn’t unique, but she is a wonder,” Kayfor said, his voice reverential. Cas shone his light above him, finding the ceiling more than twenty meters above their heads, a purple sheen to its walls. There was something odd about the internal structure. The crossbeams running across the ceiling reminded him of fish bones. Evenly spaced “ribs” perpendicularly attached to a central spine piece. And they weren’t all the same, some had variation to them. It was the strangest construction he’d ever seen.
Whatever it was made of, he’d love to see the schematics. But he couldn’t focus on that at the moment; he had to try and figure out a way to prove his case. Kayfor wasn’t going to let him go, not without something concrete. What had happened to those logs? They couldn’t have just deleted themselves. Someone must have—
“Page. That son of a bitch,” Cas uttered.
“What?” Kayfor asked, still leading him along.
“Nothing,” Cas said. He didn’t want to try and explain why some humans betrayed other humans and the screwed-up logic behind those decisions. But he bet anything it had been Page. He’d seen Cas flying away and unable to do anything to pursue had emptied Cas’s databanks, without knowing the value of the information held within. He knew the man had it out for him, and it turned out Page might get his wish after all.
Not for the first time since he’d left Sargan space he questioned the wisdom of joining the Coalition. It seemed it had finally caught up to him, one way or another.
30
“Lieutenant, you have put me in a very precarious position,” Greene said, facing Page in his quarters. Evie stood behind him along with Crewman Tes and Negotiator Laska.
“That wasn’t my intention,” Page replied, his attention focused on the wall behind Greene.
“Regardless of your intention, that is the situation. You have instigated a conspiracy with a bridge officer and two science officers to harm to another living being. If Box had been a human—or any other species for that matter—”
“Begging your pardon sir, but he’s not human. He’s a machine.” Page kept his eyes forward and his body stiff. He’d stayed here ever since Evie had told him to report to his quarters while she spoke with the captain. Now here they were, less than ten minutes before the ship was up and running again, and their primary tactical officer was guilty of subterfuge and conspiracy.
Laska stepped forward, her tiny frame almost comical in contrast to Page’s height. “Lieutenant, what is the difference between Box and all of the other non-human species we encounter? That we have alliances with?” she asked.
Page furrowed his brow, his eyes searching. “He’s been manufactured. Built, by someone else.”
“One could stay the same about you. Or me. We were ‘built’ by someone else and exist because of them.”
“It’s not the same,” Page said, his gaze dropping.
“So, because he was built in a way different from you or me, you felt that gave you the right to do as you wished. To ignore any personal autonomy Box had and impose your will upon him without his consent.”
Page shifted. “Well, I…I had concerns he was a security risk.”
“Then why didn’t you file that in your logs? There is no mention of removing Box from his quarters and taking him to Science Two. In fact, I believe it was only Commander Diazal’s apropos timing that saved the machine’s life.”
“He doesn’t have a life! He’s not even a he,” Page said. “It’s a collection of parts cobbled together designed to pull cyclax from underground so no one else has to. We don’t treat any other machine like this; why should it be any different?”
“The difference is Box has shown himself capable of individual thought and action, contrary to any initial programming. How many other Class 117 Autonomous Mining Robots do you see taking an interest in medical work?”
“They would if they were programmed to,” Page replied, narrowing his eyes.
“Exactly my point. If they were programmed to. Box was programmed to dig in the mines under Kathora. Nothing else. How does working in sickbay correspond to that programming?”
Page was silent.
“Then we are in agreement. We agree Box does not follow his programming as most other machines do. Now let’s move on to—”
“Negotiator,” Greene interrupted. “I think you’ve made your point. We’re low on time here.”
She turned back to him. “I am sorry, Captain. If there is nothing else?”
“No, thank you,” Greene replied. Laska made a swift bow to each person in the room, including Page, and left.
“So what? He gets the same rights as everyone else?” Page asked. “Is that how th
is is going to go?”
“I’m not here to make Coalition policy,” Greene said, stepping forward. “But the very fact he is an unknown should have given you pause. I’ve never encountered another machine like Box and therefore I’m not so quick to dismiss him. And I certainly don’t want to do anything that might endanger his existence. Suppose the Coalition does rule he has rights after the fact. Then you would have been responsible for a murder.”
“That’s not…it doesn’t…” Page stumbled over his words. “I already told you, I wanted him pulled because I felt without his…friend…aboard I was concerned with the ship’s security.”
Greene dropped his gaze. “We both know that’s not true. When you asked me to have him confined to quarters, I only agreed upon the assumption we didn’t understand Mr. Robeaux’s motives. Now we do, and Box should have been released on his own recognizance. The fact is you felt Box was a threat not to this ship, but to you, in some deep-rooted and perverse way. And you took specific steps to remove him.”
Page only shook his head, glaring at Evie.
“I have to tell you I find this very concerning,” Greene said. “Your behavior ever since Mr. Robeaux and the robot came aboard has been unbecoming to a Coalition officer. And as soon as we return to Starbase Eight, I will be requesting you to be transferred off my ship.”
Page’s eyes went wide. “Sir! Over a machine? You know I’m the best security chief and tactical officer you can find this side of Horus.”
Evie couldn’t help but smirk.
“I’m well aware of your qualifications. But you bring a lot of baggage with you, Lieutenant. And I’m not sure I can trust you to do your job without these issues clouding your judgement. Just look at what you’ve already reduced yourself to doing.”
“This is ridiculous,” Page said. “I’ve been serving this ship admirably for over a year. And this upstart comes in and throws everything into chaos? It’s not right, Captain, and you know it.”
“I’ll make my own judgements on what is and isn’t right,” Greene snapped. “You’re confined for the remainder of this mission. Lieutenant Uuma will be taking your place on the bridge. Can I trust I don’t need to post a guard outside your door?”
