Thalina blinked and Anguissa was gone.
Anguissa was giving Thalina a future at the price of her own.
“Prepare to jump,” Acion said softly in warning, right before Thalina was turned inside out all over again. She didn’t dare to scream her sister’s name aloud, but it echoed in her thoughts as the Archangel jumped again.
* * *
Sacrifice.
Acion searched his records.
(verb) To make an offering of; to destroy, surrender, or suffer to be lost, for the sake of obtaining something; to give up in favor of a higher or more imperative object or duty.
Anguissa had sacrificed her life to ensure that Thalina survived.
Because Thalina carried a child?
Because Thalina was her sister?
Acion didn’t know. It was impossible to precisely calculate Anguissa’s motivation without a better understanding of her nature. He reviewed the confrontation in the Hoard and recognized that Thalina had been prepared to sustain injury in his defense. That, too, was a sacrifice of her welfare.
The logical question was whether he would make a similar sacrifice under any circumstance, and what that circumstance would be.
Acion was startled to realize that he had done so, also in the Hoard. He had attacked the guards instead of fleeing, in order to protect Thalina from the dart.
Pride flooded through him, warming his entire body in a most unusual and very pleasant way. This augmentation to his programming vastly enhanced his experience.
He was aware of Thalina, and her discomfort during the jump. Biological organisms experienced the jump as a short interval of time, which was merciful given its effect upon their bodies. (They contained too much water.) Acion, as usual, found his reasoning accelerated, as an effect of the jump.
This time, there was an ache deep in his joints, perhaps a function of two jumps in rapid succession. He would have to analyze that later.
For the moment, he was investigating the ship’s navigation system. It struck him as highly improbable that an experienced pilot like Anguissa would have made such a mistake in charting her course. She was daring and bold, but that was born of confidence, which could only have been reinforced by success.
When he found the explanation, he felt disappointment.
Anger.
Betrayal.
Thalina would have to be told.
Acion returned to the initial question, somewhat startled to reason that there was a one hundred per cent probability that he would sacrifice his own existence for that of Thalina. Even though his existence wasn’t his to squander.
He existed to serve, but he would serve Thalina first.
It wasn’t just because of the Seed.
It was because he loved her.
He felt more than desire or admiration. He felt more than a preference for her company. He felt an imperative to be with her, to defend her, to see the child that resulted from the Seed, and even, to build a life together.
Acion knew he had no right to want any of those things. Until very recently, that wouldn’t have troubled him. He knew his place and accepted it.
But now, he felt rebellion rise within him.
If he hadn’t already programmed the coordinates of Cumae into the system and launched the jump, he might have even changed their course. As it was, the Archangel came out of the jump, in high orbit around Cumae. Acion could see the starport, a much smaller and more utilitarian starport than that of Incendium.
He let the ship’s nav system chart the docking and commence the approach. Their fuel was as low as anticipated. Would they be able to obtain more here at Cumae’s port? He couldn’t find a reference for the Archangel having docked here recently, much less determine easily whether Anguissa had credit. No doubt she locked the access to deter theft. He could probably undermine her security measures, but that would take time.
Time Acion might not have. The dock loomed closer.
He began to calculate the most fuel-efficient way to return Thalina to Incendium.
He would make his report to the Hive.
He would complete his duty.
And he would take—or send—Thalina home. Her father wouldn’t turn her away, especially not if she carried a child. And if his own destruction was the price of ensuring Thalina’s safety, Acion would pay it.
Gladly.
* * *
Anguissa.
Her sister’s fate was Thalina’s first concern when she awakened after the jump.
The second was that she felt worse than she had in four hundred Incendium years.
“There is a dehydrated food item in the receptacle beneath your right arm,” Acion said. “Although I believe you are in greater need of water.”
“Jumping is the worst when you’re dehydrated,” Thalina agreed and got up, realizing that she was speaking for herself. Acion probably couldn’t even be dehydrated. There was a low force of gravity, so she was able to walk across the deck. Acion pointed and she saw the galley, where she found containers of water. She opened one and drank from the spout molded into the container. Relief immediately spread through her body and her aches began to fade.
She considered the starport on the display. “Where are we?”
“Cumae, as anticipated. The Interfractal Drive on the Archangel is remarkably efficient and accurate. Your sister’s enhancements to the drive were excellent.”
“I’ll bet they weren’t the only ones. This ship is probably full of secrets.” Thalina sat down in the captain’s chair. She was aware of how recently Anguissa had sat there and imagined that she could feel the heat of her sister’s body lingering in the upholstery. She certainly could smell her perfume.
“Perhaps so. There is an access with an airlock, which is of considerable size. The curious thing is that the openings on the airlocks are considerably smaller than the one on the ship’s exterior.” Acion gave Thalina a considering look. “Did your sister hijack ships?”
“Maybe.” Thalina thought. “Or maybe it was for her in dragon form.”
Acion frowned. “In space?”
“We can generate a biological orb for interplanetary travel. Maybe Anguissa was better at it than the rest of us. It’s unlikely she would tell us about it.”
He nodded. “So, she would enter the airlock in dragon form, in the orb, then shift shape?”
“It makes sense.”
“And the orb?”
“The craft of creating and dissolving one is a closely kept secret amongst my kind.”
“Ah.” Acion worked in silence for a few moments, until Thalina asked what she most wanted to know.
“Do you think she’s dead?”
Acion paused before he replied. “If she is lucky.”
Thalina winced. “I’m surprised that she made a mistake. I’m really sorry that our quick departure was responsible.”
“She did not make a mistake,” Acion supplied, his words tight.
Thalina sat up. “What do you mean? How do you know?”
“The navigation device of the Archangel was infiltrated and sabotaged. I have discovered a worm that would override any selected coordinates with those of the sector we visited.”
“The one with Captain Hellemut’s ship,” Thalina said.
Acion met her gaze. “It appears that your sister was betrayed. She did not err. The worm was programmed to activate after X number of jumps, when X was defined as a random number between one and ten. I am sorry, Thalina, but it was only a matter of time before the Archangel returned to that quadrant.”
“No wonder the other ship was waiting.”
“Indeed. The captain of the Armada Seven experienced no surprise, only triumph in the success of her plan.”
“But why?”
Acion tapped the console, shaking his head. “It appears that there was an earlier altercation between the two captains in that same sector.”
“And Anguissa won, so the other captain wanted another chance.”
“One in which
she had the element of surprise on her side, yes.” Acion nodded. “I calculate a very high probability that your sister was glad to take this challenge while she was apparently alone. There is considerable evidence in the records of her protectiveness toward her crew.”
Thalina smiled. “She’s a dragon princess. We take care of our own.”
Acion eyed her. “Even though one of them betrayed her.”
Thalina nodded. “Even so. Anguissa would have said that she did the right thing, even if whoever planted the worm didn’t.”
Acion tilted his head, considering. “Yes. I see that her protectiveness was a dominant trait and one she perceived as a measure of character.”
“It’s a mark of our kind.”
“Which was why she protected you.”
Thalina blinked back tears. “I wish I could have done the same for her.”
Acion didn’t speak for a moment, just watched the approaching dock of the starport. “I will speculate,” he said quietly, “that the princess Anguissa is not at as much of a disadvantage as Captain Hellemut might believe.”
“How so?”
“I find no evidence that Anguissa’s true nature was revealed in their previous encounter, and further, that Captain Hellemut appears to be a leader who relies more on brute force than research.” He turned to Thalina, a little smile curving his lips. Her heart skipped. “I must wonder in which form Anguissa arrived on the teleport deck of the Armada Seven.”
Thalina laughed despite herself, surprised by Acion’s words and also reassured by them. “I wouldn’t want to face her, not if I’d revealed an intent to destroy her ship.”
“Exactly.”
“Present identification for all occupants, Archangel,” came the voice from the port.
Acion tapped the console, obeying the instruction. “Identification dispatched.”
“Only one life form aboard and one android?”
“That is correct.”
There was a pause. “Android Acion, your identification has been flagged. Upon docking, please proceed alone to room 65X. Princess Thalina, welcome to Cumae.”
“What’s going on?” Thalina asked in a whisper.
“I must make my report to the Hive.” He caught her hand beneath his. “It is protocol. You do not need to be concerned.”
“How long will it take?”
“Not long. There will be a port to accept the transfer of all data I have collected. It is routine.”
Thalina didn’t share his confidence. In fact, she had a hundred questions. Would he remember the data he shared with the Hive? Would he remember her? Would the Hive restrain him or demand something of her? Would they be allowed to leave Cumae?
And where would they go?
“You’re not telling me everything,” she accused.
“You are observant,” Acion agreed. “There is a four per cent chance that something has changed on Cumae since my departure, and that such a change might influence my status and future mobility.”
“What does that mean?”
He opened a panel on the console, revealing the cylinder that held the ShadowCaster. “I never delivered the gift to your father. My failure may influence my ability to return to you.”
Thalina had a lump in her throat. What exactly did he think was going to happen when he made his report? “Will you remember me after the data transfer?”
Acion considered this. “I do not know. Such choices are made by the Hive.”
Thalina was afraid then. “We shouldn’t have come here,” she began as the ship docked and the door was opened automatically.
“Android Acion, your presence in 65X is mandatory. Please proceed to that room with all speed.”
“We had to come here,” Acion reminded her. “My programming requires me to report to the Hive, and my scheduled report was delayed.” He opened a panel on the console, revealing a familiar cylinder secured in the space behind it. Just as before, it appeared to have dark dust in the bottom of it. “I must ask you to act as my Sword Sister in this matter and complete my mission for me. Will you deliver the ShadowCaster to your father, please?”
“I’d be honored to act as your Sword Sister,” Thalina acknowledged. “But I hope I don’t have to.”
“It is not the same as successfully surrendering the gift to your father’s hand, but perhaps this will suffice.”
“But I can’t give it to him, not from here.”
“Of course not, but you will soon return home. The nav system is programmed to take you to Incendium. You have only to leave the starport, then launch the Fractal Interstellar Drive. All of the variables are set…”
Thalina’s heart squeezed, because she knew what the implications of their arrival at Incendium would be. “I don’t have to go home and I don’t want to go home without you…”
“But I cannot go with you, and I do not know what memories the Hive will leave me. Your sister has taught me something of the nature of your kind. I, too, will protect my own,” Acion said firmly. “Ensuring the welfare of you and the child you may carry is my responsibility.”
“But…”
“I must do whatever is necessary to see my mission completed, Thalina.”
“But,” she protested again.
Acion stood and pulled her into his embrace. “There can be no objection,” he said with quiet conviction. “I love you, and this is the best I can do for you. Do not spurn it because it is too little. It is all that we may have.”
“If you can return, you will,” Thalina insisted.
“If I can return, I will,” Acion agreed. “And if I cannot, you will go to Incendium.”
“I will,” Thalina said. “Now, give me a kiss to keep me warm.”
“That is irrational,” Acion began to argue, but Thalina wrapped a hand around his neck, pulled down his head and kissed him thoroughly.
Chapter Eight
Acion’s circuits were sizzling after Thalina’s kiss.
And this was not a bad thing.
It made him feel alive, and truly, if this was the last sensation he experienced, he would not regret it. He considered the possibility that his new programming would be deleted, but could not conclude that the probability of success was high. His body was changing, and that would be hard to undo. Chances were higher that the experiment would be allowed to continue for a short period of time, to better quantify the changes in his nature.
Acion proceeded to 65X, reasonably convinced that Thalina would do as he had instructed. He also had a sixty-four per cent conviction that he would be able to return to her, at least to say farewell again.
At least to collect another kiss.
After that, his projections became too qualified to be useful.
Acion entered the room, which was just as he had anticipated as it was almost identical to the one deep within the Hive. There was a tank filled with liquid, undoubtedly possessing a high concentration of the nanobots that ensured the repair of all androids. He placed his hand on the panel on the wall, permitting his computer to be scanned.
“You are late,” said the Hive.
“This is true,” Acion said. “The delay could not be avoided, but I have returned as quickly as could be contrived.”
He made to step into the bath.
“No,” the Hive said, halting him. “Plug in first.”
Acion blinked. This was a change of protocol. All forty-three times that he had returned to the Hive to report, he had both entered the bath and plugged in to transfer his collected data.
Perhaps the protocol had changed.
Certainly, he had changed, because he felt trepidation for the first time as he followed the Hive’s instructions.
* * *
The Hive reviewed the data delivered by Acion and decided that the experiment had been a complete failure.
There had been a possibility of the android presenting Acion’s identification being an imposter, but that was not the case.
The truth was infinitely worse. Acion
showed all the same weaknesses that Arista had developed, except that the effect was more pronounced. The subroutine the Hive had believed an elegant enhancement was proving to be a rampant infection.
Acion felt.
Acion yearned.
Acion believed.
Worse, Acion chose to follow different paths than those that would most logically fulfill his assignment. The android had become unreliable.
Worse again, the shell and workings of the android had been infected by the programming of the nanobots. Destroyed mechanical matter had been replaced with biological equivalents, a fact exacerbated by both the extensive damage Acion had endured under dragon fire, and by the addition of nanobots programmed to heal biological organisms.
The change was beyond the Hive’s control.
The predictability of Acion’s reactions was demolished.
The loyalty of Acion had shifted from the Hive to Thalina.
And that combination made this android trash.
The Hive decommissioned Acion and arranged for the disposal of the remains.
* * *
Thalina had never thought she had a suspicious mind, but she didn’t trust the Hive.
And she didn’t like Acion going to make that report alone.
She paced the deck of the Archangel after he had left, debating what to do. She was still dressed as a servant in Incendium’s palace, and really, her clothes were both dirty and ragged. She looked more like a beggar than a princess and wouldn’t be able to command any attention or support, given that she was unknown on Cumae.
On the other hand, she was unknown on Cumae. She could be a servant and escape the notice of pretty much everyone.
She might be invisible, or as close to it as she’d ever been.
Thalina locked the ShadowCaster back in the console. She confirmed that the access to the Archangel would lock after her departure and that she would be able to open it on her return, checking the code a couple of times before she stepped outside the vessel and secured the door. She verified again that she could open it, before locking it once more and setting out after Acion.
By this time, there was no sign of him in the bustle of the starport. Cumae’s port was smaller and more utilitarian than that of Incendium—Thalina had the impression that Cumae was less affluent, or maybe just less interested in appearances. The starport was shaped like a star, similar to Incendium’s, with spurs extending from a central ring and offering docks for vessels. Except Cumae’s starport had only four spurs, rather than the twelve of Incendium’s port.
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