by Gregg Vann
Maxal considered his predicament, sorting through a regrettably small number of options and consequences as he sought another way out—any way out. It didn’t take long for him to grasp the dearth of good choices. Maxal addressed the Obas officer. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I? But unlike the Udek, you Obas aren’t exactly known for being ruthless killers, or deceptive liars, for that matter. So I do feel somewhat better about things. Still…” He turned to Tien. “You’re insane if you try to go to Ko’ln. You know that, don’t you? You won’t get within a hundred light years of that system. Not you.”
“Maybe,” Tien said. “Maybe not. But it’s no longer any concern of yours.”
“Perhaps,” Maxal replied. “But maybe it could be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let me in on whatever it is you’re planning. I think you’ll find me quite useful. I’m a good pilot, and a decent fighter. And after playing delivery boy for so long, I wouldn’t mind some excitement for a change. I may not miss the war, Udek, but I do miss the action.”
“You just said that it was insane for me to go to Ko’ln.”
“Oh, it most certainly is. But insanity is my specialty, and it’s a damn sight better than being held prisoner here. At least with you, I’d have the opportunity to shape my own destiny, not wait around behind bars to see what happens next.” Maxal casually waved a hand in Ryll’s direction. “Besides, I’m pretty sure this little monk here can make it worth my while. Everyone knows that the Bodhi are obscenely wealthy.”
Brother Ryll knew that Tien was actively searching for a suitable pilot, so he humored Maxal…for the moment. “And what would you want for your services?” he asked skeptically.
Maxal grinned. “Make me rich, for starters. And when we’re done with…well, whatever this is, transfer me into a new clone of myself. One with all four arms, so I can fly Blenej fighters again.”
“Impossible!” Ryll snapped. “Bodhi Prime is not some body farm where you can grow whatever you want like so much produce. And there can’t be two of you in existence at the same time—our operational charter forbids it. If we did this we’d have to kill one of you, and that isn’t going to happen. You are still young, Captain Maxal, and nowhere near the end of your natural life. What you are talking about is murder.”
“I’m okay with that,” Maxal said cheerfully. “As long as I’m the one choosing which one of me lives or dies.”
Brother Ryll bristled at the suggestion, and his face turned bright red. “You cannot possibly expect me to…”
As the two of them continued to argue, new possibilities unfolded in Kiro Tien’s mind. Diverse information—both past and present—began to collide and intertwine, coalescing into something that was almost useful. An outline began to emerge, followed by a plan that bordered on feasible. Then the last barriers to Tien’s mission fell away. He abruptly dismissed Brother Ryll’s increasingly loud protests.
“Tell me, Maxal, can you really get past the Udek blockade? I need to go to Polit. And don’t lie to me, or this won’t end well for you. I promise you that as an Udek assassin.”
“Polit?” Maxal replied, clearly caught off guard. “I thought you were going to Ko’ln.”
“Just answer me, Blenej. Can you do it? Can you get me to Polit?”
“Well, yeah.” Maxal stroked his chin. “I mean, not easily…but yes. I can get you there.”
“Then I’ll make sure that you get your new body, complete with all four arms.”
“Absolutely not!” Brother Ryll stated indignantly. “You have no right to—”
“You said you would do anything to get your precious Brother Dyson back, remember?”
“Yes. But, but this… This is immoral.”
“Don’t worry, monk,” Tien replied. “You’ll get used to it.”
Then he motioned for the Obas technicians to start unloading the crates.
Chapter Seventeen
“You’re not serious,” Tien said, leaning back from the edge of the crate to look at Brother Ryll.
The monk shifted uneasily on his feet and glanced away, searching the well-equipped Obas laboratory for a friendlier face. But Ryll knew that he had no allies here, and his timid gaze eventually settled back on the impatiently waiting Udek. Brother Ryll steeled himself against the resistance he was certain was coming. “I am very serious, Tien. And you are in no condition to do this otherwise. That will allow you to complete the mission, despite your current physical infirmities.”
Tien looked inside the crate again, staring down at the gleaming android form nestled inside it. He watched the machine for a moment, as if he expected it to suddenly come alive and sit up on its own, and then Tien turned his attention back to Brother Ryll.
“I thought you were bringing in advanced Bodhi medical equipment to help me heal. But this is your solution? Did you actually believe that I’d go back inside one of your devices again, willingly?”
“Well, yes, of course. You needn’t worry, Tien, there’s no Shepherd Personality installed. You will have complete and total free will. You’ll be yourself—mentally, at least—just as you are now, without restriction.” Ryll sighed and then glanced up at the ceiling, his face pained with regret. “If only I’d included a Shepherd Personality on Miso’s android, we wouldn’t even be in this position right now. But Brother Dyson was in such a hurry that day…”
Ryll pointed over at the second crate, where Obas technicians were still unpacking the balance of the Bodhi shipment. “And they did send medical equipment along as well, see?” The monk paused, hoping a brief moment of silence might add weight to his next words. “Please, consider this carefully, Tien. We can transfer your consciousness directly into this fully functional atonement monk, while your actual body recovers in the healing chamber they’re uncrating now. Once inside the android you will be back to normal, immediately. With complete mobility, and an even larger array of senses. Just think of the possibilities.”
Ryll registered the skepticism on Tien’s face, and realized that convincing the reluctant Udek was going to be even harder than he’d originally envisioned. But Brother Ryll knew what was on the line—the very future of the monastery was at stake—so he redoubled his efforts to allay Tien’s concerns.
“This isn’t one of our old atonement cyborgs,” the determined monk said, “where the transference candidate’s tissues and blood were incorporated into the machine-body for penance purposes. And it certainly isn’t an alien corpse—like the one you occupied for your mission against the Brenin. This is a true android, and your own body will remain intact and untouched. Only your consciousness will be transferred, Tien. And when you return from Ko’ln, we’ll put you right back inside your fully healed body, as if nothing ever happened.”
“As if nothing ever happened?” Tien scoffed. “Have you ever undergone the transference procedure, monk?”
“Well, no. Not yet. But I understand that it’s quite painless.”
“Painless? Yes. But you definitely know that something has happened.”
“Think of all the benefits this approach affords you, Tien. If you fail…if you die, how much easier will it be to bring you back? Your body will be here waiting for you. We’ll make a complete neural map of your brain—using deep scans that capture every aspect of your consciousness, and all of your memories—and then retain a copy of it after transferring you into the android. It is highly unusual to keep a duplicate pattern, but it’s not unheard of. So if for any reason you don’t make it back, we can use the copy to return you to your original body, safely here on Obas. It’s all quite simple, really.”
“Except for the part where I’m left scorched and in pieces, dying on some other planet.”
“But don’t you see?” Ryll said excitedly. “You won’t know any of that, Tien. Your memories will stop at the scan taken before the mission. If you succeed, you’ll recall every detail of your victory. But if you die, it will be as if you never experienced it.”
&nb
sp; “You be sure to remind me of that while it’s actually happening.”
“Well… Unfortunately, I won’t be there to—”
“Oh, yes you will, monk.”
“Wha—? What do you mean?”
“You’re coming with me to Ko’ln.”
Ryll’s voice cracked as he shook his head. “No, no. I can’t. I’m not a soldier, Tien. Why would you want me to go?”
Tien gestured toward the motionless android. “Because I don’t understand any of this Bodhi technology, and we don’t have time for you to teach me. And consider this: if I do manage to retrieve the soul chamber from Miso, how will I know if Dyson is still inside it? Or even alive, for that matter. And what if the chamber is attached to an external power supply? Or hooked up to monitoring systems? You said yourself that the equipment is antiquated and unstable. Are you willing to trust my intuition to determine Brother Dyson’s status? Or my technical skills, if need be, to choose and disconnect the proper fittings? What about securing the device for transport without any danger of data loss? Do you really think I’m qualified to accomplish any of these tasks? Or are you just willing to risk it?”
“No,” Ryll replied glumly. “I suppose not. I do see your point. But I don’t have another soul chamber, or an android for myself. What if I’m killed?”
“I suggest you back yourself up here before we leave,” Tien said. Then he grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve been assured that you won’t remember anything later if you die.”
Brother Ryll didn’t appreciate the irony, not in the least. “But I—”
“It’s settled, then,” Tien said. “Now neither of us is happy, and you’ve gained some valuable insight into what it is you Bodhi do to others—and how it feels to be on the other side of one of your arrangements.”
Before Ryll could reply, the door to the laboratory opened and Dasi entered the room. She was preceded and flanked by an Obas protection detail, comprised of three armed guards, and they quickly scanned the room for any signs of danger before stepping away from their charge. Tien sent for Dasi earlier, because he wanted her input before giving final assent to anything. Whatever he decided would affect them both—all three of them, actually—so Dasi deserved a say in what happened next. She spotted Tien and walked over to embrace him. And as they broke apart, Dasi looked down into the crate. Tien saw the surprise register on her face and began outlining Brother Ryll’s plan, giving Dasi a broad-stroke explanation of the mission to Ko’ln. Her expression appeared confused at first, and then went through various states of alarm as Dasi learned more about the ambitious operation.
“And you want to do this?” she asked Tien.
“No, not really. But I think it’s probably the best way…the only way, to neutralize the Special Corp threat and force them to leave us alone. This plan is the fastest, surest method of guaranteeing a safe and normal life, for all of us.”
“I don’t know, Kiro. Getting yourself killed doesn’t seem like the best solution to our problems.” Dasi trusted Tien’s abilities, and his judgment, but there was still a great deal of concern in her voice. And how could she not be worried? What they proposed was the very definition of insanity.
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about Tien dying,” Brother Ryll interrupted. “We can always bring him back if that happens.”
The glare Dasi offered in response caused the monk take a few steps back. “You think this is all so simple. Don’t you, monk? Like changing your clothes. Tien told me what it was like the last time you Bodhi did this to him. I didn’t experience anything like he went through, but I have undergone the process myself. It is unsettling, to say the least. And quite real.”
“I…I never meant to be dismissive,” Ryll stammered. “I apologize. And you’re right, of course. The procedure is anything but simple; it’s actually quite complex. The neural mapping alone—”
Dasi ignored the clueless monk and turned back to her husband. “I’ve learned to trust your instincts over the years, Kiro. If you think this has a chance of success, I will naturally support your decision. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve left me behind to go on a dangerous assignment.” Dasi worked to pull a calming breath in through the light resistance offered by her mask. “But hopefully, this time will be the last time. At least I know what your mission is, and where you’re going—unlike the veil of secrecy draped over everything when you were serving with the Corp.” Dasi shrugged. “But to be honest, it doesn’t help that much. Maybe I was better off all those years when I didn’t know what you were facing.”
Tien reached out to grab Dasi’s hand and experienced an odd sensation. He pulled her into another embrace and then knew for certain. Dasi was pregnant again. Tien couldn’t be positive—Udek males can only sense limited information about a female’s reproductive status—but he would swear that this time, it was a girl. Tien kept the discovery to himself because Dasi was under enough stress already, but the knowledge made him more determined than ever to go through with the mission. He owed his growing family a normal life, and they shouldn’t—wouldn’t—be made to pay for Tien’s past forever.
Awi Stenth was the only serious impediment remaining to a peaceful existence. Tien was increasing convinced of it. And while killing the Special Corp chancellor wouldn’t make Tien any more welcome on Ko’ln, it should end the relentless stream of assassins coming after him on Obas…at least there was that. Stenth led by fear and intimidation—not the best tools available to cultivate undying allegiance. So there would be no legions of devoted followers chasing after Tien when this was all over, thirsty for revenge. No, with Awi Stenth gone, Tien imagined that everyone in the Corp would be too busy trying to improve their own station within the spy agency to worry about some ex-operative. He also believed that some of them might even welcome Stenth’s assassination.
This could actually work, Tien thought. He backed away from Dasi and a smile blossomed on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re smiling. It seems a bit unusual, given the circumstances.”
“Ah, I was just thinking about finally putting an end to all of this. But you have to go now, Dasi, so we can begin the process. The sooner I get to Ko’ln, the sooner this will be over.”
Dasi didn’t budge. “No, Kiro. I’m not leaving. I’m staying here through the transference, at least. This monk doesn’t look old enough to read the instructions, let alone operate the machinery.”
Brother Ryll bristled at her comment. “I am more than qualified—”
Dasi shot him a menacing glance, stopping Ryll mid-sentence. “If anything happens to him, monk, I’ll show you what I’m qualified to do.”
“It will be fine,” Brother Ryll assured her. “You’ll see.”
The Obas technicians finished uncrating the healing tank and attached it to a triple-redundant power supply mounted on a nearby wall. One of them nodded to Ryll that everything was ready, and the monk instructed Tien to disrobe and lie down inside the tank. He squeezed Dasi’s hand reassuringly, before striding over to the Bodhi machine and dropping his clothing to the floor. Tien took a breathing mask offered to him by one of the techs, and then removed the one he was wearing and tossed it on top of the pile of discarded clothing. The new mask was attached to the healing chamber by a long, narrow hose, and Tien tested a breath from it before signaling to Brother Ryll that the methane mixture was flowing properly.
“Let’s get this over with, monk,” he said, Tien’s voice muffled by the thick mask covering the lower half of his face. He stepped over the sidewall and eased himself into the warm, clear fluid—slowly filling the healing chamber from external tanks mounted to all four sides of it.
As Tien settled in—lying prone on his back, and completely submerged in the viscous fluid—Brother Ryll walked over and manually closed the chamber’s transparent lid. The machine sealed itself up, covering the seam where the lid met the main housing with a thin, yet impermeable force
field. Nothing, no matter how microscopic, could now get in or out of the healing chamber. Ryll surveyed the colorful collection of readings on the control panel set into the uppermost portion of the lid, just above Tien’s head. He checked it all over closely, twice, searching for possible anomalies. Injury status, heart monitor, medicinal dosages and breathable methane levels—everything appeared normal. Satisfied that the chamber was functioning properly, Ryll input a short sequence of commands. Tien’s eyes slowly, reluctantly, slid closed, and all of his movements ceased.
“He’s under,” Ryll announced. Then the monk set up a data link between the healing tank and the atonement android to start the transference procedure. After repeatedly trying to key in one of the long list of instructions, Brother Ryll hesitated, furrowing his brow.
“Is something wrong?” Dasi asked him.
“Eh? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. I’m beginning the transfer process now.” Ryll returned to his work, but there were no outward indications that anything was happening. After a few minutes, he stated simply, “It’s done.”
He input a few final commands into the control panel and then Ryll started walking over to the android. As he approached it sat up, pressing two metallic hands against the sides of the crate to push itself upright. The android then climbed out, taking a long, slow look around the laboratory. It began opening and closing its fists, and then pivoted at the waist in several directions, testing its mobility. The machine swung its arms out to the sides and then pressed them overhead, before dropping both limbs down again to remain entirely motionless. An uneasy silence permeated the lab—the same sense of foreboding that often precedes violence. The Obas guards placed their hands on their weapons, prepared to fight. But after a moment, the android’s head pivoted to look at Dasi.
“Kiro?” she asked expectantly.
{Don’t worry} the cold, machine-like voice replied. {I’m fine}
But then Tien turned to face Brother Ryll, and the timbre of his mechanical voice changed, becoming far more menacing.
