by Mel Keegan
“Correct.” Lai’a paused. “Work will continue en route. Number 2 generator remains unstable; reconfiguration will require handling drones. Three Arago units are burned out, shut down pending replacement modules. Priority will be given to these Aragos, immediately the Zunshulite armor is replaced. Recommend delaying entry to Zunshu space until all three generators are optimal. Navigators may be interested to know, the Zunshu Gate is intermittently visible at this time.”
“Already?” Jazinsky was astonished, and Travers heard an uneasy note in her voice. “How far, Lai’a?”
“Precision is difficult,” Lai’a warned, “due to flux in the structure of transspace. I estimate the Zunshu Gate will be attainable in approximately 140 hours.”
“And you can see it from here?” Vidal was breathless. “You have nav data, Lai’a? Can you feed it to the simulator? I want to fly that sky. Soon – long before we get there.”
“Navigation data is available,” Lai’a told him, “but sporadic. If you access it prematurely, variables will render it of limited value. Allow three days en route for data to resolve. I will notify you when variables have been minimized.”
“All right.” Vidal dragged both hands over his face and gave Travers a haggard look. “Six days.”
“Long enough to effect reliable repairs?” Vaurien asked.
“More than sufficient.” Lai’a paused. “I regret the inconvenience to Resalq and humans. I could do no more to protect the habitation module. The gravity spike could not be predicted from normal space. Fresh data allows me to estimate the risk factor of this event recurring to be five percent.”
“We can expect to take a hammering on maybe transit in twenty.” Vaurien looked across at the Resalq. “Sorry, Tor. You’ll be in armor during transit along with the rest of us. You need a hand with it?”
“He has more help than he needs,” Leon said archly.
“I always helping, am able to do,” Midani offered.
Tor might have been sullen but, given a calculable risk factor that was not insignificant, he saw the sense of armouring for any transit. “I’ll live,” he muttered, and seemed to be waiting for Dario to remonstrate, perhaps for the perverse fun of bickering.
But Grant’s voice cut him off, calling over the loop. “Richard, you better come down to the Infirmary.”
“Tonio?” Vaurien shot a look sidelong at Travers.
“Yeah. It’s … look, just come on down,” Grant said in a taut voice.
“Barb, you want to mind the store?” Vaurien was already moving. “You need me, yell.”
“You might as well come in too, Mick,” Grant added tiredly. “You’re due for your shots in a half hour anyway. Let’s just get to ’em now.”
“You mind if we tag along?” Travers asked. He was a pace behind Vaurien as they left Ops, with Marin and Vidal right behind him.
“You mean, if Tonio’s going to check out, do I want to bawl my eyes out in decent privacy?” In fact, Vaurien looked more angry than distressed. “He lost me a long time ago, Neil – not that I’d want to see any harm come to him. I guess I remember who he used to be. Christ – I don’t know. Come on.”
In a hull the size of a cruiser, nothing was far from anywhere. They were in the Infirmary moments later, a bright, warm, familiar compartment little different from Eileen Drury’s facility on the Mercury. Only one bed was occupied of the rank of four on standby along the wall adjacent to the armordoors. Tonio Teniko was sitting up, clad in a pale green gown, with a rose-pink rash of ‘vacuum bloom’ along his arms and neck and a furious look on the odd, misshapen face.
If Travers had been expecting the man to be a few moments short of death, he knew he was wrong. Teniko was unhurt, save for a lot of broken capillaries which therapy would heal overnight. Vaurien came to rest by the bed, fists on hips, glaring first at him and then at Grant.
“He deserves,” Grant said nastily, “to be the first human buried in transspace. He ought to be dead. If Lai’a hadn’t spotted him in the drone locker, he might have been – he could have breathed out the air before anybody bothered to open it up. And he’d never have known what happened. You want to tell him, Teniko, or shall I?”
“Go to hell,” Teniko growled.
“Maybe I will,” Grant said blithely, “but if I do, you’ll be there ahead of me, flayed alive and doing service as the doormat where newbies wipe their boots!” He turned his back on Teniko and looked up at Vaurien, anger bright in his eyes. “He was high as a kite when it happened.”
“Ibrepal?” Vaurien wondered. “Takes a major dose to get that high.”
“Gryphon,” Grant corrected. “Or something as close to it as makes no matter – and when you add that to the Ibrepal his eyeballs are already floating in, it could be absolutely, bloody lethal. He was still high when I pulled him out of there. I took a little blood and shot him with the blockers, or he’d still be flying. I’m not going to be responsible for this, Rick. I’m the CMO of this expedition, not his keeper.”
“Gryphon?” Vaurien exploded. “Where in the name of –” He glared down at Teniko. “Your bags were searched on the way in. You didn’t bring it with you. I told you, Tonio – you try this stunt, your feet won’t touch the deck.” His mouth hardened. “Where’d you get it?”
For a moment Teniko seemed to hesitate, as if searching for some likely escape route, and then let his contempt show through. “You have got to be kidding me. You think I don’t know my way around a lab? The ship’s set up with chemistry labs that’ll synthesize anything from Demolex to angelino, and you’re asking me where I got a few lousy snorts of gryphon?”
“Chemistry 2,” Grant rasped, “adjacent to the drone bunker. Turns out, he’s been cooking up a batch at whim, crashing in the bunker to use it. No bloody wonder he’s been halfway off his head lately – I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t get him to come in for a full set of scans, and there’s only so much data you can get with a handy. You want the truth, Rick? He’s out of it. Whacko. He has no place on this ship. I wouldn’t let him within shouting distance of a lab, and I wouldn’t trust his work, supposing he thought of a new way to prop open a door. He belongs in an institution – the same kind of loony house Barb found him in. And he’s done this to himself.”
Anger made Vaurien’s face pale. Travers gave Marin a glance and with a discreet gesture beckoned him out of the way. They joined Vidal on the other side of the Infirmary, where Mick had hopped up to sit on the bed by the little tank where Grant ‘cooked’ his medical nano.
“You fool,” Vaurien said in an ominously quiet tone. “That was your chance, Tonio, and you blew it.”
“You need me,” Teniko began, too loud, too harsh.
But Vaurien’s head was shaking. “Not in this condition. Not with work that could kill us all. You’re barred from the labs, and if I see you in Ops again, I’ll confine you to quarters. In fact, if I even see you again, I’ll lock a door on you, Tonio, and you can stay there for the duration. You disgust me.” He turned away with that, and walked out of the Infirmary without a glance back though he called, “Walk with me, Bill.”
So angry, he could barely be still, Grant gave Teniko a glare and told Vidal, “I’ll be right back, Mick.”
Travers’s brows rose as he studied Teniko, who sat hunched in the bed, hugging himself and rocking as if he were barely aware of where he was, what he had done. “Well now. If I was Richard, this time I’d put him in cryogen. I’d park him right beside the tank where Roark’s legs are growing, and forget about him.”
“So would I,” Marin agreed, “but if I know Richard, he’ll offer probation.” He shrugged. “Teniko is one of the most brilliant minds in the Deep Sky. He just needs to sober up, learn how to be decent.”
“He was one of the best minds,” Vidal said grudgingly. “You got any idea what an Ibrepal-gryphon speedball will do to your brain?”
“Your brain cells corrode.” Marin sighed. He gave Travers a speculative look. “You want to talk to Rich
ard? He might listen to you. Tank the little twerp, just get him out of everybody’s way. Worry about him later.”
“I can do that.” Travers knuckled his eyes. “Damnit, how did we get into this?”
“He was the most beautiful thing anybody ever saw,” Marin said candidly. “You set eyes on him, and it was like taking a punch. Barb was blown away by his intellect … Richard was seduced, and who’s going to blame him?” As he spoke, Grant and Vaurien reappeared at the Infirmary’s wide, open doors and Marin gave Travers a nudge. “Go on, Neil. He might listen to you.”
The look of resignation on Grant’s face as he rejoined Vidal spoke volumes to Travers. Marin hung back, helping himself to bottled water at the ’chef, and Travers intercepted Vaurien before he could leave. Richard did not even spare a glance for Teniko, and before Neil could speak he growled, “You want him in cryogen.”
“Don’t you?” Travers demanded in a whisper.
“I might,” Vaurien admitted. “But Tonio’s a fool, not a criminal.” He sighed heavily. “Cryogen could be a death sentence, and even now he’s done nothing worth paying for with his life.”
“A death sentence?” Travers echoed.
“Battle zone. Damage to the ship. Only those mobile enough to get up and run will make it.” Vaurien gestured toward the morgue, where the cryogen tanks were stored, two always prepped on standby. “Anybody nailed to the spot can die where they are, and I’m not quite ready to write that warrant.” He tipped his head back, squeezed his eyes shut. “I guess I must look like all kinds of idiot.”
“Because you couldn’t resist beauty?” Travers spoke gently. “You’re human. Where is it written that Rick Vaurien is infallible?”
Richard gave him a thoughtful look. “Still, I’m old enough to know better. I did know better, and when the little shit batted those long black lashes at me, I still went along. Barb should’ve stopped me.”
“She didn’t have the right,” Travers said reasonably. “Not back then. You two hadn’t gotten back together. If Teniko tried it on now, she’d have every excuse to whang his lights right out, and I hope she’d do it.” He set a hand on Vaurien’s arm. “You be careful. He’s a manipulative sod.”
“And a liar,” Vaurien added, “and a cheat. Bill says he’s become irrational, and I believe him. I’ve restricted Tonio to the Infirmary for three days, minimum, for a full series of tests including brain scans. Tonio won’t like it, but at the end of that time at least he’ll be sober enough to speak intelligently.”
“Which is when he’ll be most dangerous,” Travers warned. “You’ll know he’s rational, and when he begs and pleads, promises to be a good boy, tells you he can keep his act clean and go back to work, you might even believe him.”
But Vaurien’s face was shadowed, embittered. “Not this time. If he walks out of the Infirmary, he’ll do it with a chip in him. Joss will lock up any lab right in front of him, unless he’s supervised. The fun and games are over. The question is, is he even capable of working? We won’t know that for a few days, and then I’ll ask Barb to check everything he does – God knows, there’s plenty to do. She and Mark will be in the lab till we hit Zunshu space, taking apart every skerrick of data we have and rebuilding it every which-way. She tells me we’re developing a grasp on horizon dynamics far exceeding any understanding the Resalq ever had. She and Mark are working in areas, now, that even Mark never glimpsed before.” He discovered a reluctant smile. “They’re like a couple of kids in a candy store.”
“And Tonio could have been part of it,” Travers breathed.
“But he won’t play nice with the other kids.” Vaurien dropped both hands on Neil’s shoulders. “He never really outgrew the teenager who was spoiled because of his beauty, and then blundered into Fleet and was abused because of it. Though lately I’ve come to a sneaking suspicion that when he was conscripted, Tonio might have tried to use his looks … bribe his way to a sweet deal. But it backfired on him, left him playing the ham in the sandwich between officers who’d taken the bait and wouldn’t play fair.” He lifted a brow at Travers. “You saw this kind of horseplay on the crewdeck?”
“You mean, good looking conscripts trading sack time for favors? Oh, sure. They’d trade for furlough passes, light duties, booze, better food, not having to do battlefield sims, having their permanent records edited to delete their sins … get a flogging commuted to a fine.” Travers had seen too much of it, and was indifferent. “It goes on. People are still people, even on a carrier.”
Vaurien wore a speculative look. “You had these offers?”
“Of course I did. Everybody from sergeant on up is fair game. Who’s the victim, who’s the predator? The line gets blurry.” Travers set the past back into its place. “Okay, so Tonio’s restricted to the Infirmary … and by the sounds of this, he ain’t happy about it.”
Bellowing protests issued from his direction, and when Travers followed them to source he found Teniko cuffed to the bed with a servitor drone beside him armed with a pitcher of juice, a handy and a hypogun, which would be preloaded with his next shots of Ibrepal. Marin and Vidal were just leaving, and Grant did not tolerate the bawling for long before he roared right over the top of Teniko with the tone and volume of a battlefield medic.
“Put a lid on it, Teniko, right bloody now, or I swear I’ll put you in restraints and gag you! I can’t knock you out – there’s already enough dope in you to strangle a moose – but I can sure as hell tie you down and shut you the fuck up!” He glared at Teniko, eyes glittering. “Give me a reason, you ratshit!”
Wisely, Teniko subsided. He turned dark, imploring eyes on Vaurien and watched as Richard stalked away, headed forward, past the executive staterooms and smaller labs. Travers followed, with Marin and Vidal behind. They were immersed in discussions about the simulator, the navtank load Vidal was expecting in a matter of days; did Marin want to fly it, before Lai’a reached Zunshu space in reality?
He did, and Travers’s belly churned with something very like stage fright. They were almost close enough to Zunshu space even here for Lai’a to provide a nav load good enough to fly it in simulation. Fifteen years to get home, in normal space at any reliable Weimann performance, and the Zunshu Drift was 140 hours ahead … forty years, or fifty, to get home from there, if there transspace drive should be damaged beyond repair; and a battlefield ahead of them, with a ship that had demonstrated its limitations –
“Neil, you all right?” Marin asked softly. “You look a little –”
“Weird?” Travers guessed, and seemed to swallow his heart. He turned back to Marin and Vidal, and glanced at his chrono. It was 03:00. “Not as weird as I’m going to sound,” he said grimly, “when I tell you I’m headed for the gym. I’m going to pump iron till I can’t stand up.”
“You want some company?” Marin offered.
“Or an audience?” Vidal added. “I can stand to watch you flex your muscles for an hour.”
“What, Mark’s not waiting for you?” Travers was surprised.
“He’ll be in the lab with the rest of them, checking every nut and bolt, trying to get the generator back online, wrangling drones on the hull. They’ll be there till they think they’re done. Lai’a doesn’t need ’em. If it wasn’t so damn’ polite, it’d probably tell the whole lot of ’em to get the hell out of its way. Maybe it knows people need to be busy. Mark might have given it an understanding of how humans run around like ants when they’re scared enough.”
“Turns out, so do the Resalq,” Marin said thoughtfully. “I don’t think I ever saw any of them scared before. Anxious, angry, even desperate, but not scared.”
“And it frightens the crap right out of you,” Vidal finished. “Same here … and we,” he added, “don’t have anything useful to do. Sure, we can fly the simulator, but not for long enough to chase away the bogeys. Neil has the right idea. Gym. Pump some iron. I wish,” he said honestly, “I could join you.” He cocked his head at Travers. “Audience?”
�
�Audience,” Marin decided, and headed for the nearest service lift a pace ahead of Travers.
Chapter Sixteen
Lai’a, Zunshu Gate
For over two hours Lai’a had hung in the driftway adjacent to the gate while eleventh hour preparations were made, and while it hunted for the precursors to a storm event big enough to ensure a safe transit. For Neil Travers this was the worst time, and he had come to envy Marin the ancient techniques he used to relax.
The hours since the transit from the Gojin Drift blurred together now, so seamless, they might have been a single day. In the passing they had seemed a year long, while one part of him willed them to race by and another part dreaded their end. Zunshu space haunted him with the unthinking dread of the unknown.
The ship had been busy, and still was. While Lai’a began to track a storm to its liking, Vidal reported that he, Rabelais and Queneau had locked down the transspace simulator – but it remained on standby, and Lai’a had to know the conduit was duct taped to the hangar wall, the hanks of cable were ready to connect, in the event of what Mark Sherratt called a ‘catastrophe level’ event.
He meant the possession of Lai’a by some Zunshu system too sophisticated for Lai’a to repulse, but he was not about to frame this in words. Lai’a might not have been a living entity imbued with intuition, affection, native compassion, but it knew exactly what he meant. It had assisted in setting up the flight control connectors, and if the time came it could surrender control to human pilots without protest.
The Sherratts had rarely stepped out of various labs on the passage from the Gojin Drift. Travers understood in broad terms what they were doing, but the intricacies of building a firewall against the Zunshu override of a sophisticated AI were far beyond his knowledge. Jazinsky knew more, but she was not an AI designer. It was one project where Teniko might have been valuable, but he languished in the Infirmary until the work was almost done, sweating and retching through withdrawal pangs much worse than the normal purgatory, because his gryphon-like creation was more potent, more sinister than the pure substance.
