Odyssey iarc-1

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  No, Derec thought firmly.There are limits. I don’t want to see it, he told himself.I don’t want to know.

  Time passed, and the enveloping womb of solitude slowly became a prison. Silence became deafness. Stillness became death. Whether because he was healed or haunted, what he had was not enough.

  The larger world outside himself still beckoned. It was not a friendly world, he knew. At best it was indifferent to him. Unlike the gentle currents that had borne him as he healed, the larger world was filled with forces that could bear him along like driftwood in the spume of a breaking wave.

  But he was not without power himself. Perhaps he could not turn back the wave, but he could ride it, and set his own course.

  It was that realization which freed him. He saw that he was not a prisoner, and never had been. There were five doors through which he could free himself-the five doors of his senses. All were unlocked, waiting only his touch to swing open and let the world in and himself out.

  And he would open them, he knew. But not yet. Not until he had floated with the gentle currents awhile longer. For if he could leave whenever he chose to, then the womb of solitude was not such an unpleasant place to be after all-

  The first door Derec tried to open was hearing. At first he wondered if he had succeeded, for the silence without was as complete as the silence within. Then he became aware of the faint rhythmic sound of his own breathing. It was a small step, but it was the first information to come from outside his cocoon in what felt like a very long time.

  Experimentally, Derec opened his eyes a crack, and immediately closed them again. The world outside was disturbingly familiar. He was floating enveloped in light-light that was somehow bright without being harsh. A faceless shadow, tall and slender, moved gracefully through the haze which seemed to surround him.

  Reality had been inverted. The dream had become reality, or the dream world and the real world were one and the same. It seemed like some sort of perverse trick, one in spirit with a “present” which turns out to be a series of ever smaller empty boxes. Would every doorway lead to the same place? Would each step he took only hold him more firmly where he was?

  “Good morning.”

  Derec was puzzled at the sound of another voice. If he was alone, then he had to be the one who had spoken. But he had not spoken, and so he was not alone. But if he was not alone, then he could not still be inside his dream world, and what he had seen when he had opened his eyes must be real.

  But if it was real, then he was alive. He tried to remember the last incontrovertibly real thing he had known. It was a difficult business, remembering. There had been sunsets and flower-songs, but they had not been real. Before that… before that…

  Before that there had been a terrible moment, a moment so full of surprise and pain that even in fleeing it, he had brought it inside his cocoon. He had transformed the eruption into the blossoming of a flower, the flame into the colors of a spectacular sunset. Then he had replayed the moment endlessly to render it harmless.

  Yes! The last real thing he had known had been the explosion.

  Derec opened his eyes once more to the light. A shadow loomed over him, faceless and nearly formless, as before. He tried to reach out and touch it, but his limbs would not obey.

  “Turn off the sterilization field,” the voice said, and the haze of light vanished. The shadow became the copper-colored head and clothed torso of a robot. The robot was gazing solicitously down at him. “Good morning,” it repeated. “Please don’t try to move.”

  Derec’s mind was slowly working its way backward from the explosion. He understood that he was no longer in the command center. The robot hovering over him was not Alpha. Which meant-

  “Aranimas got his robots,” Derec croaked.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “He won,” Derec whispered. “I didn’t get away.”

  “Sir?”

  “Tell Aranimas I won’t stop trying-”

  “Sir, I would be happy to deliver the message for you. However, the person you named is unknown to me. Where may this individual be found?”

  “Aranimas is the ship’s boss-”

  “This individual was a member of the ship’s company?”

  “Yes-” The robot’s responses were beginning to puzzle Derec.

  “Sir, I regret to inform you that no person of that name was found when the paramedics boarded-”

  “I’m not on the ship?”

  “You are resting on a therapeutic diamagnetic force field, more commonly known as an airbed. The airbed is in the Intensive Care Ward of the hospital at Rockliffe Station.”

  The wave of relief that swept through Derec on hearing those words seemed to take all his energy with it. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to float on the gentle currents of sleep once more. Distantly, he heard voices, but could not rouse himself to think about what they were saying.

  “He is fatigued,” the robot said.

  “We need his assistance,” a new voice answered.

  “Our needs are less pressing than his own,” the robot said. “We will wait.”

  The next time Derec awoke, the copper-skinned robot was again nearby.

  “Good evening,” it said, coming to his side. “How are you feeling?”

  Derec managed an anemic smile. “I was just lying here thinking about all the times in the last week that I closed my eyes one place and opened them somewhere else. Every time it happened I found myself in worse surroundings and deeper trouble-until the first time I woke up here.”

  The robot nodded gravely. “I promise that you will receive the best of care.”

  “I know I will,” Derec said. “Do you have a name?”

  “My assigned designation is Human Diagnostic Medicine Specialist 4. However, the supervisor of medicine for this district refers to me as Dr. Galen.”

  “Why?”

  “He has never explained this to me. However, I have determined that Galen was the name of a Greek physician of the classical age who wrote on the subject of the ‘vital forces’ inhabiting the body. I believe that my supervisor found it amusing to call an advanced diagnostic technician by the name of a primitive medical mystic. Since this question concerns humor, I cannot offer an authoritative conclusion.”

  “I think you’re probably right,” Derec said. “You won’t be offended if I call you Dr. Galen? It’s a good bit handier than your other name.”

  “Why should I be offended, sir?”

  “No reason,” Derec said. At least not when I say it, he added silently. But that supervisor is definitely expressing some hostility. Probably has a secret fantasy of being a family practice doctor on a Settler world instead of tender-to-robots. “Where is your supervisor?”

  “On Nexon.”

  Derec knew the name: it was one of the larger Spacer worlds, and the second-farthest from Earth. “You said this is Rockliffe Station?”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “Where is your local supervisor? The hospital director?”

  “Sir, I am hospital director at present.”

  Derec frowned. “Maybe you’d better tell me some more about Rockliffe Station, then.”

  “Certainly, sir. What would you like to know?”

  Rockliffe Station, Dr. Galen explained, was a centuries old Spacer facility, a way station dating from the days when a long interstellar journey could only be managed through a series of shorter Jumps. Dozens of way stations had been built while the Earth emigrants who would become the Spacers were colonizing the fifty worlds that would become their homes.

  With the coming of more powerful drives capable of spanning known space in one or two Jumps, most of the way stations had long since been abandoned. A few, of which this was one, had been fortunately enough placed that they outlived their original function.

  Rockliffe Station lay in the middle of one of the largest “open” regions along the fringes of Spacer territory, looking out toward the quarantine zone beyond which lay the Settler wor
lds. There were no livable worlds in the nearest star system, but there was one planet with a crust rich enough in iridium to justify a small mining and processing center.

  So Rockliffe had survived on the strength of its usefulness as a listening post on the frontier, as a transshipment point for processed iridium, and a military outpost should relations with the Settlers deteriorate. But those were not reason enough to keep it active at the peak level of the early days-not enough even to maintain a human presence there.

  According to Dr. Galen, less than ten percent of the station was occupied, and that entirely by robots. The human supervision they required was provided by means of hypervision and the ships that called every two months.

  Only because of the chance that those visiting crews might need its services had the hospital been kept staffed. But the managers on Nexon were realists. Dr. Galen was hospital administrator because his caseload was usually zero, while the only other medical robot on station, a nurse-orderly, had a full schedule of cleaning and maintenance.

  No wonder the supervisor makes jokes at Dr.Galen’s expense, Derec thought.

  “You seem disturbed by this information,” Dr. Galen said. “Is there a problem?”

  Derec thought about the question for a moment. Hehad grown progressively unhappier as Dr. Galen’s explanation had proceeded. But did it matter so much that he apparently was still alone? At least Rockliffe Station was more or less familiar territory, unlike the asteroid colony or the raider ship. He should be able to have his own way more easily here.

  “No. No problem,” Derec said. “Except I’d like to know a little more about what happened. How did I get here? You said something about paramedics-”

  “I do not know all the details. The dispatcher or dock supervisor would be better sources of information.”

  “Tell me what you know.”

  “Apparently your ship was disabled following its Jump. Exactly what happened next is not clear. The dispatcher will no doubt want to inquire about the circumstances. However, it appeared as though your ship discarded or released a smaller vessel, a shuttle or lifeboat, before changing course and heading into the Q-zone.”

  “They must have cut us loose after the explosion-” Derec said thoughtfully.

  “The smaller vessel apparently was following an unacceptable approach vector and did not respond to the dispatcher’s commands. On the assumption that it was a derelict, a tug was dispatched to intercept it and bring it in. When the derelict was boarded you were found and brought here.”

  “Did they bring the ship-our ship-in, then?”

  “That is my understanding. Of course, my concern since that time has been with your care.”

  “Of course,” Derec echoed. If Aranimas’s ship is here, maybe I didn’t lose the artifact after all, he thought joyously. “Listen, Dr. Galen, what would you say to my getting up and doing a little walking? Airbeds are as comfortable as beds get, but I’m tired of just lying here. Maybe I could go see what kind of shape the ship is in, answer any questions the dispatcher has.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Dr. Galen said. “Your injuries are not yet sufficiently healed to permit that.”

  “What are my injuries?”

  “You suffered flash burns over fifteen percent of your body, primarily over your arms, face, and neck. Three of your ribs were cracked-”

  “I must have fallen on the tile I was lifting.”

  “-one puncturing your right lung and causing it to collapse. Your right eardrum was perforated and had to be replaced.”

  “Frost! How long have I been here?”

  “The ship on which you were found was boarded six weeks ago.”

  “Six weeks! Was I in a coma or something?”

  “Burns are extremely painful, as is reconstructive epidermal surgery,” Dr. Galen said. “I kept you under chemical narcosis during treatment and the initial phase of recovery.”

  “I guess I should be grateful. But six weeks-” Belatedly Derec remembered that he had not been alone on the raider ship. “Where’re the others? Wolruf-Alpha-the girl. What’ve they been doing while I was narc’d?”

  “I am sorry. The only persons found were yourself and a female human.”

  Feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, Derec looked away. It did not mean that Wolruf was dead and Alpha destroyed-there was a chance, perhaps even a good one, that they were on the larger portion of the ship still in space. But it did mean that while Derec had escaped and survived, he had not lived up to his promises to the caninoid. “I’m sorry, Wolruf,” he whispered.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “Never mind,” Derec said. “Tell me about the girl.”

  “She was found near you inside the ship-”

  “That’s not what I mean. Tell me how she is.”

  “Patient Katherine’s physical-”

  “Katherine-is that her name?”

  “Is there some error?”

  “No-no, that’s her,” Derec said. “Where is she?”

  Dr. Galen turned away to the right and gestured with his hand. “Orderly, draw the curtain back.”

  Derec turned his head to the right. What appeared to be the wall of his room suddenly become transparent, allowing him to see a slight human figure floating in a halo of light. She was naked, and he looked away, faintly embarrassed. When he did, he realized that he was naked, too. It was very straightforward and practical for them to be naked in a hospital, but something of a surprise all the same.

  “How is she?”

  “Her integumentary injuries were more extensive than your own, but she is healing well. Of course, her chronic condition remains unchanged.”

  “What condition is that?”

  “I’m sorry.” The robot paused. “I see that I have made an error. Since you were traveling together, I did not think that I was betraying any secrets by discussing Katherine’s chart. I will have to report myself for this indiscretion.”

  “I don’t care about that,” Derec said impatiently. “Has she been awake?”

  “No. Nor would we have allowed you to awaken if we did not need your assistance.” Dr. Galen gestured with his right hand. “Close the curtain.”

  “Assistance with what?” Derec asked as the wall became opaque again.

  “Sir, in the course of your care certain services have been rendered on account. It has not only been our obligation but our pleasure to be able to help you. However, as hospital administrator I am obliged to determine whether this account is collectable or is to be charged against regular station operations.”

  “You woke me up to ask me for my insurance card?”

  “There is also the question of medical history. We can determine genetic endowment directly, but it is not always possible to determine all the synergistic outcomes of a particular gene complex. Without direct evidence, I have been obliged to follow more conservative parameters in your care, which in turn has had the effect of prolonging your recovery somewhat.”

  “I don’t understand. What about her?” Derec demanded. “You said she was hurt more badly than I was. Wouldn’t it be even more important to find out who she is and get her medical history? Why me and not her?”

  “Sir, while you were unconscious, we attempted to identify you by means of all the standard systems. We were not successful.”

  “Standard systems-”

  “Fingerprint, retinagraph, absolute blood protein typing, and twenty-third chromosome codon map. We were not able to establish a match.”

  “Of course you weren’t. I’m not from here.”

  “Sir, by hyperwave we have direct access to the records of all fifty Spacer worlds.”

  “Did you check the records for Aurora?”

  “Yes. We were not able to establish a match.”

  “But I’m from there-I know I am.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Aurora keeps scrupulous records on their citizens as part of their population-control program. If you were an Auroran, this conversation would not
have been necessary.”

  “But you found out who she is,” he said.

  “That is correct. Katherine’s full records were made available to me.”

  With sudden fury, Derec demanded, “Are you telling me that you searched the citizenship records of fifty planets and can’t find out who I am?”

  “No,” Dr. Galen said. “We have searched the records of fifty-five worlds, including Earth and the four nearest Settler planets. We do have a right of request with most Settler worlds for access to their records. Unfortunately those records are not as complete as we are accustomed to dealing with, and in some cases are not even centralized. Also, certain worlds charge exorbitant fees to respond to data requests from Spacers and then are exceedingly slow to respond. For all these reasons, it seemed to us that a more straightforward inquiry was in order.

  “Therefore, could you please tell us who you are?”

  The empty feeling had returned full force. “I wish I could,” Derec said hoarsely. “Stars, how I wish I could.”

  Chapter 14. Kate

  “How interesting!” Dr. Galen exclaimed. “Do you mean to say that you have no personal memories whatsoever?”

  Derec repeated the now familiar litany of events which began with his waking in the survival capsule. Partly because he was growing weary of the tale himself and partly to minimize questions, he glossed over some of the details, including the fact that the raider had been screwed by aliens.

  “I will have to amend your chart to reflect this state of retrograde amnesia,” Dr. Galen said when Derec was through. “This is a much more fascinating problem than your other injuries. As a matter of fact, amnesia is a hobby of mine.”

  “What do you mean, a hobby?”

  “Perhaps I should say specialty, but that does not convey the deep intellectual satisfaction it gives me.”