by Greg Curtis
But he doubted it would help him as the information he wanted simply wasn't there. That was the other reason he kept pedalling – it helped with his nerves.
Chapter Thirty Two
“Rise and shine! The day’s a-wasting!”
Someone called his name and even through the darkness Carm realised he was being woken up. Then hands gripped his shoulder and shook him. Strong hands.
“What the shards!” he exclaimed, confused. Opening his eyes he abruptly found himself looking into a woman's eyes. Very angry eyes.
“Del?” he said, puzzled. He was shocked, but mostly frightened, as the mute smiled at him in a somewhat blood-chilling way. How could she be on his ship? When he was in space? And why was she wearing that strange grey uniform?
“Ahh, so you do remember me.” She didn't sound happy. “You thought perhaps I'd still be sitting on that sharding dock waiting to be picked up like some spaced out DD? You know, the one you abandoned me on?”
She roughly grabbed him by both lapels and lifted him up until he was sitting upright in his bed. “Did you think that was clever? That it was the sort of thing any decent human being would do?”
“Ahh …?” Carm ran out of words before he'd even found any to say. Del lifted him the rest of the way up and deposited him on the deck like a mother would her child.
“That's what I thought. Nothing to say for yourself.” The words sounded like a judgement. “Nothing at all. And you're supposed to be a respected scientist!”
Carm didn't answer her. Instead, looking around, he noticed odd details. Like the fact that she wasn't alone – there were two men in uniforms he didn't recognise. And given everything else that appeared to be going on, he guessed two mutes.
They'd been boarded! In space! And the ship hadn’t given any warning. For four long days they'd been parked just on the edge of an asteroid belt, nowhere near a jump point, and with most of the ship powered down. No one was looking for them – or if they were, not there. He'd spent four days doing nothing more than sitting and listening to jumbled communications and the ever more bewildering news stories emanating from Aquaria. He and the Nightingale didn't even get a mention in any of them. So how was any of this possible?
“Ship?” Even as he asked Carm knew the ship wouldn't answer him. He couldn’t have said why. The simple fact that it hadn't warned him told him there was something wrong. Why had it even opened the hatch?
“Don't bother the poor ship! It's got more important things to do than to listen to you whine! And in any case it's not speaking to you at the moment.”
“What have you done to my ship?” Carm tried to sound angry, or at least as if he was in command. Instead he sounded like a frightened child.
“The ship hasn't been damaged at all. A few of its systems have merely been turned off. Now get a move on.” With that she let him go.
But, before he could react to his sudden freedom, she was behind him, pushing him forward towards the door. One of the men then grabbed him by the shoulder and marched him out into the corridor.
The man was definitely a mute judging by his strength, and he was in a hurry. Before Carm could even say anything he was being pushed along towards the front of the ship, still trying to work out what was going on. He still didn't understand how they could be on his ship, plus he wasn't completely clear what they wanted, but they didn't seem to be set on killing him immediately. That was a good thing, especially since he saw there were more of them onboard.
They were in the computer room as they strode past it, Carm barely having time to mumble something at her about needing to be careful as it was the heart of his ship's brain before another barrelled past him the other way. And when they reached the bridge there were even more, all of them neatly dressed in their light grey uniforms.
Meanwhile Carm was wearing only his bed-clothes and he felt distinctly under-dressed. Why had he started dressing for bed again? Why for that matter had he even bothered with bed at all? He'd been comfortable enough collapsing on the couches in the galley.
But as they herded him through the double sliding doors his attention shifted from the intruders messing around with his ship. Neither did it settle on the figure at the far end with his hands behind his back looking suitably imperious. Instead it was on the view beyond him. The front panels had been opened and through its porthole he saw the dock.
They were docked? When he'd gone to sleep they'd been in space and now they were docked – all without him knowing a thing. How could that be? And how could this be a dock either? Because, as he quickly gathered, they weren't in a normal dock – they were inside another ship.
Carm couldn't quite bring himself to believe it as he was guided past workstations. It was like a DDs drug-induced dream. The Nightingale was far from the biggest ship around, but it was still a hundred and fifty metres long. Yet the window was showing him an entire docking facility with room for five more similar-sized ships. He knew it was a space dock because the whole affair was enclosed in a giant steel dome. They certainly hadn't travelled anywhere – as far as he knew they were still in space just beyond the asteroid belt.
“Provost,” one of the men holding him addressed the figure.
“Thank you gentlemen, lady,” the Provost nodded to them in turn. “You may return to your duties.”
His voice was cultured and he had an easy going way about him. Above all else he neither sounded angry nor homicidal. He didn't sound threatening either. If anything he was relaxed, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. He was definitely in command, however. That was very obvious when the men promptly unhanded Carm and walked away. They weren't worried that he might run away. The Provost clearly wasn't worried that he might attack either. It was obvious enough why he supposed.
“Doctor Simons, you've had a busy few months.” He appeared like all the mutes. On the fit side, powerfully built and with straight white teeth. But unlike them his close cropped dark hair had a pinch of grey at the temples and a couple of wrinkles around his eyes. From the air of confidence radiating from him, he was a mute, with authority, and a ship that had to be the size of a space station. That couldn’t be good.
“It's been difficult.” Carm knew he should probably pay him all of his attention, but his eyes kept getting drawn to the vista in front of him.
“Playing Martian leapfrog with things that don't belong to you often is—”
“What doesn't belong to me?” Carm interrupted. He wasn't quite sure what he was talking about. But he understood the reference. He'd played low gravity leapfrog himself when he was a child. It was something all children did. Bouncing over one another and sailing high into the air.
“The translation coordinate algorithms of course.”
“Ahh!” Carm abruptly understood why they were there, and why there was someone in the computer room and more on the bridge. It was like a door opening. Information was power they said. And that particular piece of information was very powerful indeed. The mutes didn't want it getting into the hands of their enemies. No doubt they wanted it back. They needed to know that it hadn't gone anywhere else.
“Actually they do belong to me.” Maybe it wasn't the best time or place to say so, but still he did. After all the man hadn't killed him and Carm nursed the hope that he wasn't going to. Besides he knew he was right. There was something about the uniforms and the way they acted that said law enforcement.
“Do tell.” The Provost was polite, but clearly he didn't believe Carm.
“The information was on my android companion.” Carm waited patiently for someone to chime in with the term bangbot, but it didn't come. “The unit was owned by me, bought brand new from Billingsgate Lucius Scientific Industries and thus completely my own property including all information on it. You're welcome to view the contract of sale if you'd like.”
“Hmmm,” the man narrowed his eyes, considering the matter. “I would like to see that contract. Though I have to say I was expecting t
o speak with a man of science not a legal clerk. However there does seem to be a problem with checking your story.”
“What?”
“Your ship is very loyal.”
“Ahh.” Carm was surprised. They'd captured the ship, somehow overridden the computer to open its hatches, dock it and stop it speaking or giving any warning, and yet they couldn't break its security? That didn't seem right. Still since they did actually have him in their grip so to speak, maybe a little cooperation would be in order he decided.
“Ship, can you hear me?” The Provost nodded to one of his men and a moment later the ship answered him.
“Yes, Carmichael. I'm sorry about this by the way. They somehow remotely turned off my systems. I have no control over my ship.”
“Not your fault. Six hundred years apart has obviously granted the mutes some technological advances we don't have. But in any case, give them view only access to any non-sensitive information they need to access. No access codes or authorisations, however.” He would play nice Carm decided, but not that nice.
“Not exactly trusting.”
“You have abducted me.” Carm pointed out the obvious.
“We have simply removed you from a zone of military engagement – for your own protection, of course. You do seem to be a non-combatant, and we couldn't have you in any danger.”
“Military engagement?” Carm felt weak. Just when events had seemed to be going well. “I don't think there's any need for that. The situation appears to be resolving itself.”
And it was – from a Commonwealth point of view. The Navy on Aquaria had ceased their activities. Carm had celebrated when he'd witnessed it. The bombing had ended. The Navy policing had fairly much ended too. People had been brought to hospitals, and Aquaria had slowly begun returning to a semblance of order.
And since communications had subsequently been restored, it appeared that events throughout the rest of the Commonwealth were falling into place as well.
But from the mute point of view the situation might be different. No one was actively hunting them anymore as far as Carm knew, but still many of their people had been killed. Massacred, in fact. They might want someone to answer for that. However, that was bordering on vengeance and vengeance wasn't lawful. Hesitantly he tried to explain that to the Provost.
“Our people are still down there. In danger.”
They were actually – except that Carm doubted they were in any peril for the moment. No more than anyone else at least. The Navy might be in complete disarray, but Naval Command – what remained of it – had arrived to take control of the crisis, and the one thing they were determined on was that there would be no more deaths.
“My family is down there too, also in danger, and I don't know where they are or if they're even alive. Not since our home was burnt down or they were driven from their work. But there's nothing I can do, not even to find them. And while you may have the power to do something I don't think anything you can do will help. In fact I would strongly suggest that anything you do will just make the situation worse. The instant you show yourselves, you empower the rogue naval elements as you justify their claim that the mutes are dangerous enemies the Commonwealth needs to be protected from. And suddenly we'll have the two halves of the Navy back at war with itself, and your people left wherever they are as footballs to be kicked around.
“You haven't revealed yourselves?”
“No,” the Provost shook his head.
“Good. Please don't. For the moment things are in flux. Naval Command is trying to work out who to arrest and on what charges. The Commonwealth is largely doing the same with Naval Command. And whichever side of the fence officers are on their attention is focussed almost completely on one another. Everyone and everything else has largely been forgotten for the past four days, both your people and mine. We should let matters stay that way until the smoke has cleared. Let everything settle.”
“They might harm our people.”
“They could—” Carm had to admit it as painful as that was, “—but it isn’t likely. I sent everything from Del's pod to the Commonwealth, and that's cut the feet out from under those wanting to present your people as pure threat. In essence every danger they want to accuse your people of they created themselves. And then they have to justify the way they've been using that threat to leverage budgets from the Commonwealth for six hundred years.”
“That was you?” The Provost looked surprised, but not particularly pleased.
“Of course. It had to be done and who else had the information?” Carm hurried on before the man could become upset. He sensed he was standing on a molecular thin ice-field.
“For the moment your people are stuck wherever they are. In jail, in hiding or in hospital. But they've become too expensive to touch. Killing, torturing and interrogating people can be accepted when those people are dangerous enemies. But when they're the creations of those doing the killing, torturing and interrogating - that becomes a lot less acceptable. When they're also the excuse by which those committing unspeakable acts have been illegally profiteering, it becomes completely repugnant. And if those people then can't even be shown to be a threat, then a detestable crime becomes an outrage.
“The best thing your people can do for the moment, is to sit where they are and demonstrate that they aren't a threat.” He was just guessing, weaving together a picture from what he'd found over the mesh. But there were so many mesh-lords out there with conflicting reports and the Aquarian Navy had retreated to its bases and shut the door making it impossible to truly be sure what was happening.
“They tried that. It didn't work out so well.”
For the first time there was something in the Provost that wasn't calm. Even though the man's face didn't budge a muscle Carm could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. And though he knew the man was a mute, he also knew he had reason to be upset. Good reason. But it wouldn’t help.
“Yes, but it's become a thousand times worse for the local Navy. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of police officers and civilians, civil rights lawyers and citizen reporters died alongside your people, during what was a completely peaceful march. It is a tragedy and an absolute outrage, but the moment the Navy opened fire they proved themselves to be the enemy of law and decency. Everything they claim to stand for was betrayed, and done so publicly. That's why I released that holo too.
“Now the entire Commonwealth has seen it. They know what the Navy has been doing. A lookalike coup attempt has been aborted. And Naval Command has found itself in the almost impossible position of pretending that they didn't try to launch a coup, defending themselves against charges of mass fraud and conspiracy, and at the same time charging their own with conspiracy to commit mass murder while pretending that it has nothing to do with them. Meanwhile the Aquarian Navy has been locked up tight in its bases, waiting to be arrested.”
“You have been busy,” the Provost still sounded unimpressed.
“For the last four days everything has been balanced on the edge of a cliff,” Carm hurried on, not wanting to upset this man any further. “At the bottom of it there's been the prospect of the Navy going to war with itself, anarchy and rebellion. Maybe even the disintegration of the Commonwealth. But little by little, almost atom by atom, those with cooler heads have been prevailing and pulling the rest back from the edge. I say let them keep doing it. Anarchy is no good for anyone.”
“For the Commonwealth,” the Provost pointed out the one aspect Carm had potentially overlooked.
“No, for everyone.” Strangely Carm knew he was on firmer ground with that. “You have people throughout the Commonwealth too. People in hiding. And while I don't know how many, I'm guessing you don't know either. A fractured Commonwealth leaves them like everyone else - vulnerable.”
“All our people need a strong, united Commonwealth that can deal with its problems and find justice for all. Core values need to be upheld. And one of those values is human rights.
”
“It's a founding principle of the Commonwealth. The Navy forgot about it for a time. And then they deliberately went against it. They’ll pay a heavy price for that. But maybe if events go well, it will be remembered.
“When this is over then comes the chance for diplomacy. Your people need to demonstrate peacefulness and restraint. In time perhaps an arrangement can be made for your people to be released and allowed to leave voluntarily.” Was he right? Or just hopeful? Was it even his place to say such a thing? Carm didn't know. And even if it was he knew the Provost had every reason not to listen to him. Every reason not to like his solution either.
“You should listen to him,” the ship butted in unexpectedly. “Sometimes that mushy neural processor of his has a reasonable idea.”
“Ahh … thanks.” Carm didn't quite know what else to say. Was the ship supporting him? It seemed unlikely, but he had to admit it had been much happier since they’d returned from Sol. “Of course most of the time it's about as reliable as a short circuit!”
“Shards!” There was the ship Carm knew and loved.
“He really needs extensive counselling, and to be completely honest an assessment of his mental competence. I mean some days I find it amazing that he can remember how to put his clothes on correctly. And don't get me started on the personal hygiene. Let’s just say that there's a problem and leave it at that!”
“That's enough ship!” But it wasn't and Carm knew it. The ship had someone new to complain to and it was nowhere near finished.
“Maybe someone should do some testing for DDs and mesh addiction. He has been spending a lot of time in front of the holo lately,” the ship said. “And then there was that malfunctioning pile of bolts he called Kendra. Did you know he dressed it up and then stuck it in a display case? Like it was some sort of prize instead of a defective android?! And in the middle of a crisis when he should have been working on getting us back to full function. I mean what does that tell you about his state of mind? The mush brain is seriously dark side.”
