“What kind of look?”
Lowell shrugged. “Thoughtful. Confused. Danwe, I've never seen her look so perplexed about another being before. Rael never got into relationships.” He paused again. “Listen, Grayson, whatever type of relationship you and the L.C. had, it was different than anything I've noticed before. That's all I'm trying to say here.”
Gray nodded.
“I'm asking you because of that.”
“Pack her stuff up?” Gray asked, glancing back out of the viewscreen.
“Yeah,” more relaxed, the vice captain accepted a cup of simulated coffee from an ensign. “Rael has no family to send her personal effects to, so pack it as you see fit and I'll have it stored in a warehouse until we make Halieth.”
Gray nodded again, and with a last glance at the infinite question of space, he left.
“I saw you leave the funeral.” Duane said as he stepped into Adri's old quarters. The room was a decent size, as befitted a second officer, but there wasn't much in it. A neatly made bed, a travel trunk, a couple of uniforms in the closet. Some dirty dishes were piled on the desk, and the computer viewscreen showed a list of messages. Gray was standing by the bed, carefully folding a pair of faded fatigues. “Humans don't deal with death well. As a culture, I mean.” Duane commented suddenly.
Gray gave him a skeptical look, taking in Duane's blotchy complexion and reddened eyes. He hadn't been on time for the service. Gray had seen him slip in the back of the room halfway through.
Duane flashed him a sheepish smile. “I guess I've been hanging around humans too long. So, you collecting her things?”
“She didn't own much.”
“Nah,” Duane stepped further into the room and glanced bleakly at the pile of articles that Gray had stacked on the bed. “I never saw her with much, ever.”
“I haven't found anything personal,” Gray said, his eyes slightly distant. “No trinkets, no jewelry, no pictures or holo-recordings, not even a chronometer.”
Duane frowned, Gray's comment obviously pulling him out of his memories. “She had a necklace – you know, the tear shaped pendant made out of some purple shell? I think she told me once that it had been her mother's. She wore it all the time, so she was probably wearing it…”
“Yeah, she had it on.”
Duane sat down heavily into the desk chair. “I just can't believe this.”
Gray glanced around at the second officer's quarters. They had held little of Adri to begin with, and now all her things sat in little piles that didn't even cover the surface of the bed. “Why doesn't she have pictures? There isn't even one from her graduation from the Academy.”
Rubbing his face, Duane replied, “She had a holo-album that one of her basic training buddies made for her when she was accepted into the Officers’ Academy. It's got to be around her somewhere,”
Glad at the puzzle to divert his attention from what he was doing, Gray scanned the room again. “I've been through the chest of drawers, the desk, the closet, and the bathroom. She didn't rent any warehouse space. There's nothing but what's here on the bed. Where did she put it?”
The paranthian shrugged.
Feeling slightly foolish (which was better than bereaved), Gray checked under the bed. It had always been where he'd stuck his most valued possessions as a child. Perhaps Adri had also used the space as a little girl, and habit had kept her utilizing it. Lifting up the bed sheets, he peered under. Nothing. He even crawled in a little ways to double check, but the space was empty.
“Find anything?” Duane asked from the chair.
“No. It was just a guess. I suppose – wait. What's this?” Gray had turned his head slightly to slide back out, and had noticed a small SecureBox fastened to the underside of the bed. He rolled awkwardly onto his back and studied the box. Unfastening its mounting seal, he slid out from the bed, pulling the box with him.
“What's that?” Duane asked, his attention perked.
Gray sat on the bed and studied the lock on the box. “There's a numerical combination code on this.” He pulled out the master code chip Lowell had given him and inserted it into the lock. The lock pinged for a moment before blinking green, allowing the lid to release with a soft snick.
Inside the box Gray found a small collection of old photo images, keepsakes, and a slender holo-album. Duane stepped over to him and peered over his shoulder. “There's the album. Mind if I look through it?”
While Duane studied the images stored in the album, Gray sifted through the other items that Adri had considered valuable enough to store in a SecureBox, about the size of a pistol case, hidden under her bed. There wasn't much; a palm sized doll, which looked like it must have belonged to Adri as a child, an old wedding band registered to an Elizabeth Wraben Rael, and a few miscellaneous trinkets that could only be valued by a child or adolescent. But at the bottom of the box, carefully wrapped in a genuine silk scarf, was a framed photo imager. With a soft breath, Gray activated the outdated screen.
The image displayed a family of three at what appeared to be the child's birthday party. The family was centered in the image, with a heavily sugared pastry on the table in front of them that had a real wax candle in the shape of the numeral seven. The birthday girl – Adri, he realized – was smiling excitedly at the image. She was sitting on her mother's lap, comfortable and unafraid, with an outstretched hand to grasp the arm of the beaming man sitting next to them. Her parents looked young and proud, both with features that Gray recognized from their daughter. The man had the same calm features and hair coloring, while the mother had passed on her deep brown eyes that seemed to reflect back the world around them; a trait that was both mysterious and intriguing. He felt his gut clench with pain, but couldn't force himself to look away.
“I've never seen that image before,” Duane commented from behind him. “The L.C. was pretty closed mouthed about her childhood. I know her parents died when she was young.”
Gray didn't look up. “She looks happy here, doesn't she?”
“Yeah.” The paranthian rose, reluctantly replacing the holo-album. “She never really looked like that, for as long as I knew her. Until you came along,” he placed a comforting hand briefly on Gray's shoulder.
Gray continued to stare down at the image long after Duane had departed. Adri's seven-year-old eyes smiled back at him innocently.
Humankind has an instinctive desire for happiness. In fact, Gray surmised, it could rationally be said that all species possessing more than the necessary survival instincts for existence desire happiness in some form or another. Barring happiness, humans at least tend to avoid situations or objects that will push them further from that goal. If they can't avoid it, humans will either confront the situation in order to change it for a better outcome, or they ignore it and try to pretend that it isn't there, never occurred, or isn't a big deal. Or, in his case, try to objectify it so as to give himself some emotional distance.
Danwe, that was just pitiful.
Gray turned his head and glanced at the framed imager of Adri's seventh birthday. The bedside light illuminated the room softly, showing the image placed carefully amidst the orderly disorder of the quarters he occupied. Stretched out on the bed, he tried to let his senses roam as another form of distraction from his thoughts. The audioproofing in the walls did not allow the noise from the corridor to drift in. It left the room in silence despite the fact that there was a bevy of technicians just down the hall replacing a gravitational and air pressure monitor. The only sound was the gentle humming of the ship's engines, a noise often forgotten after years aboard spacecraft. The bed sheets rustled as he rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.
What had Duane said? Humans don't deal with death well, as a culture? Apparently humans weren't the only ones who tried to rationalize their feelings in order to avoid them. And he really had to stop philosophizing and deal with the matter at hand.
Okay, fact. He had lost the woman he loved. He felt grief, guilt, and anger.
Anger? Yes. Heedman sentenced Adri to die out of cowardice. He'd checked the records the analysis team had compiled and concluded that there had been enough time for a rescue operation to succeed before the Belligerent ship would have been in firing range. Granted, they may have been caught in a firefight, but even crippled, the Oreallus had the resources to defend itself under the right command. Heedman killed Adri, plain and simple. But now what?
Adri's parents had gotten caught up in the Anti-War Riots in the capital city of Corinthe ten years ago. Xander and Elizabeth Rael had been returning home from a business conference and been pulled into the violence. They hadn't made it back to their seven-year-old daughter, home from school with a mild virus. Although the deaths had been confirmed as a killing of unarmed innocents, the fact that they had been shot by soldiers working on the crackdown meant the whole mess was shoved under the metaphoric carpet. Adri got an apology for the loss of her family and home, was shoved into the overworked foster care system and forgotten. Gray had spent several hours after packing Adri's belongings in the Archives trying to get answers. The ones he found explained a lot about the woman he loved. And lost.
She was given no justice for her parents. From the time of their death until she held her first position of command in the Advance Force, Adri had been powerless and overlooked. Once in command she flourished, until a coward above her took her choices away. Gray couldn't get justice for her parents, and he couldn't fix her childhood. But he could get her justice for her own death.
It wasn't the life's purpose he'd thought it'd be, but it was a purpose.
Floating
Falling
Through endless swirling mists of emptiness
Yet not
Like a face pressed to a window
Both out and in and all around
Wrapped in heat
Feeling the cool
Placid
Musing and unconcerned
Hearing nothing
Hearing the serenade of silence
In this time I knew myself
All my self
My self said how lovely this nothing was
Lacking all pain
My self said to depart
See the blue light comes that will guide us
This is not my place
Lovely one
Sweet love
This is not home
Breathe now
The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak
I will give you the flesh to match the spirit
Breathe
Chapter Seventeen
“It's full of syncopated beats and dominant lyrics, what's not to like?”
“The messages it conveys are ones of irrational violence and pleasure in the lack of control of the libido. It's ridiculous. In addition, the rhyming scheme is overstated and lacks genuine poetry. What is there to like?”
“Children, please no bickering over the music selection.” Floyd called over from across the room.
Cassie and Zultan continued to stare at each other for several seconds before moving away from the stationary mainframe that housed the lab's music archives.
Tension had mounted in the lab like the steady rise of a flood drain in a storm, rushing beneath your feet and threatening to spill over into violence. Floyd could feel the monitors that had been mounted on the walls gauging his every breath. He was never alone; a mixture of live and humacom security guards escorted him whenever he left the laboratory, even when he simply went to the cafeteria. Security protocol had reached alarming heights. Floyd hadn't been home in weeks.
Something was up. The investigation into his father's suicide (just the thought still gave him a shattering headache) seemed to be dragging on with no updates. Colonel Stroff was constantly making an appearance to check on his work (not that it was anything of high importance since Cassie was activated), and some strange band of technicians whose credentials he could never quite decipher, led by a military officer whose rank was never disclosed, kept barging in to access Zultan's files, despite the fact that all the information Zultan held was also stored in the government's mainframe.
Paranoia was dogging Floyd like one missed question on an aced exam. He could almost feel himself slipping into the eerie calm that kept trying to suck him down into nothingness, where there were no worries, no questions, no feelings. The fact that the calm was tempting frightened him more than all the secrecy and suspicion that hovered around him.
Across the room, Zultan and Cassie sat at one of the computer bays and played chess. They appeared absorbed in calculating their moves in the game.
I've been trying to trace that command signature the medicom received before it tried to poison Floyd. Cassie reported in a private instant message to Zultan. The IM system between the two humacoms was modified and encrypted, and Cassie had (with loosely interpreted authorization) modified it further so that it was both untraceable and unrecorded. When I go through official channels, I get the “unauthorized inquiry” block. What about you?
The same. Zultan made a comment aloud about the game, which Cassie rebutted.
Any information about it from other investigative sources? Who's investigating the incident anyway?
There's nothing in the accessible files. Looking at all available official inquiries, the files report that the case is closed, a dead end. But there is no record to show that any investigation took place.
So it's a cover up.
Zultan flashed Cassie a glance that could only be described as amused. Your knowledge of human vernacular and colloquialisms has vastly improved. I commend your effort.
Cassie rolled her eyes for effect. It passes the time better than just shifting to power-saver.
True.
There was silence on both sides as the two humacoms continued to play their game and process information at the same time.
What do the files say unofficially? Cassie finally asked.
Unofficially?
You said ‘all official inquiries.’ Are there any unofficial bits of information you can access?
Zultan placed Cassie's king in check. I can access anything that is inputted into any government database, you know that.
Cassie moved her bishop to defend her king. Yeah. That's why you're so valuable, blah, blah, blah.
Blah blah blah?
Is there something you aren't telling me, Harddrive?
Now you're giving me nicknames? I recant my earlier statement due to lack of information. You're organic/human education is not commendable. It's annoying.
Your human education is more pronounced than mine; at least I still know that as a machine, humacoms are incapable of annoyance.
I wouldn't count on it.
Another pause as Cassie reversed the game and placed Zultan's queen in danger. So answer my question. Is there anything beyond the official report?
Nothing I can tell you.
Because there's nothing to say…or because you can't say?
Can't. The access password to the document in question supercedes even Floyd's security clearance. I am incapable of divulging the information in that file.
What can you tell me?
We were right. Floyd's in danger. The only reason he isn't dead is because he doesn't know what is really going on. If he ever finds out, his life is considered a liablity to those involved. They will very likely try to kill him.
Does this have anything to do with the death of his father?
I can't say. Draw a logical conclusion.
Logically, it does. Given the data I have received from you about events prior to my booting, and from events I have recorded, it connects. It must also connect with the information those creepy guys keep programming into you. All that top secret development stuff.
Zultan frowned and made a pithy comment as Cassie placed his king in checkmate. Creepy? And how did you know that the information has something to do with development?
Cassie smirked. Oh come on, we're connected. I can take down anyt
hing they try to put up between my system and yours. And the definition of ‘creepy’ is ‘causing of an unpleasant feeling of fear or unease.’ They sure do that. To top it off, I'm even following protocol. After all, they've never inputted their authorization codes to access you through my access recognition processor, which you know is a breach in procedure. Thereby anything they enter into you is a viable threat to your system, and falls under my scrutiny.
That is dangerous. I would advise you to be careful.
Hey, Cassie nudged Zultan's shoulder with her elbow. I can't let anything happen to you.
Nor I you. Zultan gazed over at Floyd who was rubbing his temples again – an indicator of another migraine coming on. I think we're all in a precarious position. Whatever they're planning is too fragile to succeed smoothly. All it needs is one variable to shift out of their favor for them to act in erratic patterns that defy logic. When that happens, it will all blow up in our own metaphorical faces.
Is that an irrefutable certainty, or a statistic probability?
A certainty. If I were human, I would guess things have already shifted out of their favor. They just don't know it yet.
***
“By Danwe I just…I just can't believe it.” Royce Carter shook his head and stared in bewilderment down at his mug. “Rael of all people seemed invincible, especially on the field. Blown up.”
The Damacene had caught up with the Oreallus in record time after receiving the latter's S.O.S. They had met with a drastically different situation than that of their last meeting. The change in status had altered the Damacene's own plans, and it was now to escort the damaged ship to a safer space zone. Even a week after the incident, the news still threw eerie shock waves through the newcomers.
Carter and Gray had met in the mess hall of the Oreallus on their off shifts (Carter was assisting as acting second officer while a new one was trained). Both had loosened the collars of their uniforms in respect for their off-time. Both wore the traditional black armband out of respect for a lost comrade. It was the first time Gray had searched Carter out in the week he had been onboard. They sat together, sipping coffee and avoiding the topic of Adri. Until now.
Universe of the Soul Page 15
