by AM Scott
“Sister Lashtar, we will stay at least through tomorrow. I highly recommend you bring all of this to the town council before the jamboree tomorrow evening. You’re going to need help to survive. Lots of help. And it’s not coming from us.”
Lashtar met his eyes and nodded. He could see resignation, determination and no little fear. He nodded back at her and turned away. “Lightwave, let’s go.” He looked at the Scholar. “Are you coming back with us, Scholar?”
She nodded and stood. “Yes.” She looked down at the group of Sisters. “I will send you the contact information for Gov-Human on Sa’sa. You can ask me questions about both. I’m happy to answer what I can, but I’m not an expert on either.”
“Thank you, Scholar. You are generous. You demonstrate the spirit of the Mother for all of us,” Lashtar said, dropping her head into a bow. The women around her followed suit.
Ruhger picked his way through the seated women, all of them with their heads bowed. Those who sat on the poufy bags slid to the floor into proper mediation position, creating more obstacles between him and the door. Eventually, they reached the back wall, found their boots and exited the room. Just before the door to the meditation room closed, he heard Navarr start a chant to the Mother. He thrust his feet into his boots, beyond eager to leave.
Katryn hissed out, “Mud-burrowing liars. Hypocritical sand fleas.”
Ruhger spoke over his shoulder. “Katryn, wait until we’re back in the shuttle. Little ears,” he warned. She didn’t say anything more, but her fury loomed like a dust storm, ready to engulf them all. They marched down the corridor, boots heels ringing on the wood floor. The few young women and girls they saw flattened themselves to the wall to let them by. That was probably wise, because he’d just as soon flatten one or two of them, which was ridiculous; they were children. He knew he wasn’t the only one wearing his anger on his face; there was no need for confirmation.
Flinging the back door open, it slammed into the outside wall. Ruhger climbed into the lift van, put on his comm set and started the engine. “Anyone not secure, speak now.” Silence met his pronouncement, so he engaged the lift van drive, leaving the Sisters of Cygnus behind.
Forever.
Chapter 5
Katryn cursed the whole way back to Haven, vicious, spitting curses, like a cat cornered by a dog. After the first minute, someone cut her microphone—her lips kept moving, but Saree couldn’t hear her anymore. The rest of them sat in silence, faces grim, the contrast with the happy chatter on the way there too much to contemplate. Saree restlessly tapped rhythms on her thighs, her anxiety needing an outlet.
Pulling up in front of her shuttle, Captain Ruhger spun toward her. He’d reverted to his normal glower, but she could tell he was still furious—and devastated. “Scholar, we need to discuss these developments as a crew, but we do want input from you and the Al-Kindis. We’ll comm you later,” he growled out.
“Of course, Captain. I will contact Al-Kindi and tell him what’s going on, and that you’ll be bringing us into the loop later. I will also send the Sisters my information about Gov-Human on Sa’sa.” Unfastening her harness, she thought about the situation—should she say anything else? It couldn’t hurt to sympathize; she knew how they felt. “Captain, Lightwave crew, I am very sorry for your loss. I know how badly it hurts to be betrayed by those you trust, by your own family. I hope the Sisters make amends so you can move forward, although I’m sure it will never be the same again.” She forced a tight smile, took off the comm set and left the lift van. Standing at her shuttle hatch, she entered her codes and let the DNA sampler bite, knowing Hal was opening the hatch without her input.
Well, maybe not. He probably waited for the DNA sampler to make sure she hadn’t been replaced by a robot or an imposter.
“Welcome back, Saree. My comm relay worked; I was able to listen to everything while you were in the compound. I confess, I am confused by the extreme anger displayed by Captain Ruhger and the crew. I understand why the Sisters’ lies and attempt to use them without offering just compensation or supplying them with all the information would upset the crew, but their anger seems extreme. Why did you offer condolences as if the Sisters died?” Hal asked her in a rush.
Saree smiled sadly. Hal’s child-like questions lightened her mood considerably. “Because it’s a betrayal of the worst kind. First, Lightwave’s crew seemed to view the Sisters as incorruptible, perfect humans who always do the right thing.” Her smile turned grim. “And I’m sure the Sisters encourage that view. So, here they are, the faces of the little moral voices in their heads always telling them wrong from right, and boom, those moral voices are now trying to get them killed—oh, and not just that, but lead them back into killing for a living, without giving them all the information they need for planning and without offering them a share of the reward. And second, not only are these so-called paragons willing to lie and cheat, but they’re doing it for credits, not just to save their skins, which might be understandable. Oh, and send them off to their deaths, because of lack of information. Third, Lightwave’s crew considers—well, considered—them family. They are Katryn’s family and, therefore, Lightwave’s family. And I think Sister Lashtar was Phalanx Eagle, so she is also family. Betrayal by family is the worst. It’s very similar to a death.” She shrugged. “In some ways, it’s worse, because the person is still there, a constant reminder of what you’ve lost.”
“Humans have little moral voices in their heads? Is it anything like my morality programming?” Hal asked.
Saree laughed, harder than the question deserved, but she needed the relief. “No, it’s nothing like your programming, unfortunately. Nothing that straightforward. But it’s how many humans refer to making value judgments between right and wrong. A conscience. Similar to your programming, but not that clear-cut. Most people are taught and internalize a system of right and wrong early in their lives—those who don’t aren’t considered sane. For a lot of humans, our moral system can be overly restrictive, and often illogical.” She chuckled and shrugged. “So, when we’re about to do something we want to do, but we know or think it’s wrong, we think about it as if someone invisible was sitting on our shoulder, whispering in our ear, ‘That’s wrong and you know it—don’t do it!’ Thus, it’s a little voice in your head.”
“Do you do that, Saree?”
She smiled. “All the time, Hal. Before you ask more questions, can you contact Al-Kindi’s shuttle for me, please?”
“Certainly, Saree.”
Nari’s cheerful face appeared in the vid. “Peace to you, Cary! How are you?”
“I am well. How are you?”
Nari looked off to the side, probably at Al-Kindi. “Oh, we’re doing very well indeed. We may have found something worthwhile.”
“Nari, is your spouse there, with you? I have some news. It’s not good news, either.”
“Oh.” Nari’s face fell. “Yes. Wait one moment, please.” She turned away, evidently speaking with her husband, because he sat next to her immediately.
“Greetings, Scholar. What can we do for you?” he said with a seated bow.
She nodded back at him. “Greetings to you as well. I have information for you. Have you heard of the Inquisitors?”
Al-Kindi’s head jolted back and his thick eyebrows raised in surprise. “Why, yes, I have. I’ve never knowingly run into them, but certainly I’ve heard of them and their ways.” He grimaced. “And their owner. Why?”
“Evidently they’re on-planet. There’s a group prospecting in the Badlands to the northeast of here and there may be more groups on-planet. This planet is owned by Galactica.”
His face froze for a moment, then he frowned. “Oh, by all that is holy, that is not good,” he said, shaking his head slowly.
“No, and it gets worse. The Sisters of Cygnus think there may be transuranic metals in the Badlands. And they tried to get Lightwave’s crew to act as mercenaries for them to clear the Inquisitors from the caves without telling them exac
tly who they were going up against. Or why. So, not only is everyone on-planet potentially in danger, but now the crew feels betrayed and they’re probably leaving soon, so your explorations will almost certainly be cut short. They’ve offered to take all the Sisters off-planet though, despite their anger.”
Al-Kindi’s frown deepened. “Trust me, I am not worried about my explorations. We cannot leave fast enough. I must protect Nari, first. We’ll head back to Haven right away.” He looked down, clearly intent on something in the shuttle. Nari leveled a look at him, a mix of exasperation, fondness and a little uncertainty.
Despite Al-Kindi’s inattention, Saree promised to notify him. “Lightwave wants to include both of us in discussions after they talk. They’ll be contacting you soon.”
“My input is simple. Leave—leave now.” He looked up from what was most likely the control panel in front of him. “If they can’t get us on comms, please tell them that.” Al-Kindi looked back down and his arms moved, probably doing pre-flight checks. “The sooner we leave, the better.”
“I will let them know. See you soon.” She nodded, Nari waved, and the comm went dark.
“Al-Kindi is a smart and cautious man,” Hal said.
“Yes. I’m sure that’s why he’s survived as a solo traveler in the far fringes of known space and middle-of-nowhere planets.” Saree sighed. “So, what is your vote, Hal?”
“I get a vote, Saree?”
“Of course. What would you like to do?”
“Oh. I agree with Al-Kindi. Leave and leave now. That is the safest course of action for you.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m not programmed to think of my safety as a factor, Saree.”
“Well, I’m asking you to. I don’t want to lose you, Hal.”
“That is…unexpected, Saree. I’m just a computer.”
“No, you’re a sentient computer, Hal. A bodiless being. Or maybe a constructed-body being.” Saree thought for a moment. “You do reside on the shuttle, right? Not in some huge data storage facility someplace?”
“I am here. I send backups of myself to several data storage facilities, but they are incomplete. I’m not sure they would be sentient. I am part of Fortuna Lucia. I might be able to move to another platform, but I am here.”
“Okay, a shuttle-hosted being?” She shrugged. “Whatever label you choose to use, to me, you are sentient, and therefore a being, a person. You are my…partner—yes, that’s the right term—and as such, you get a vote.” A big vote. Hal really was her partner—she should treat him that way.
“I had not thought of myself as a partner. More as a tool, a support program. I will consider this further. But whatever the correct label may be, my answer is the same. Departing quickly is the best and safest course of action for you and the shuttle, and therefore me.”
“Thank you, Hal. Do consider the notion.” She should probably explain more. “You are very important to me, not just for my job and as a backup, or as part of the shuttle, but as a friend, someone I can talk to and rely on, someone with a different point of view, who can act as a balance or opposition if necessary.” She shrugged and grinned for a second. “And I like you.”
“I am not sure what to say. Thank you, Saree.”
“You are welcome, Hal.” The role reversal made her smile.
“Shall we ready the shuttle for departure?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure we’ll be leaving right away. Lightwave will stay at least through tomorrow evening, and even if we launched right now, we’d just be orbiting until Lightwave’s crew returned. I’m sure they’ve set the shields to prevent anything from latching on to Lightwave.”
“I could overcome their defenses, but the action might expose me. Still, being in orbit is far safer than grounded. I didn’t notice any other shuttles or folders in orbit around Cygnus Gliese, but they could be deliberately hiding. I wasn’t watching for that level of threat on our way down. Whether there is someone up there or not, we know there is a threat down here. We are safer in orbit—there are more options for avoidance and hiding.” Hal’s light tenor voice had a distinctly pleading tone.
“True, Hal. Still, let’s wait and see what Lightwave has to say. There’s no greater threat right at this moment than over the last few days. We just know about it now.”
“I suppose so, Saree. We can wait, but I will be ready to launch.”
Hal was right—they’d be safer off-planet. But what about all the wonderful people she’d met here on Gliese? Ma Ecker, young Torin, and all the rest? What would happen to them? What about the Sisters? All those girls, there were at least fifty of them. Could Lightwave take all of them? Even if they brought food and water, packing that many people on Lightwave would be difficult, if not impossible, especially without shuttles. And it was a lot of mass to fold.
She tapped on the worn pleather of the pilot’s chair. Well, no it wasn’t. With six empty shuttle spaces, Lightwave was running very light. But there were a few shuttles here on the field, and there were probably more on the planet. Those people would want off and likely had credits. Or a shuttle to trade for passage. Did the Sisters have a shuttle? Oh, she’d promised to send the contact info for Sa’sa Gov-Human. She pulled up the last contact info she had and sent off a message.
“Saree, are you sure you don’t want to leave now? It would be far safer.”
“Yes, I’m sure it would be, but the threat isn’t any bigger right now, unless you see something I don’t.”
“I do not see any threats to us or any to Lightwave’s shuttles or even Haven at this time, but I can extrapolate there will be a threat. From the map shown, the Sisters’ compound would be an ideal base of operations for the Inquisitors. If they learn the Sisters plan to leave, the Inquisitors may not wait for the compound to empty, or not empty completely, because they will want everything there, including the women. We do not have weapons on this shuttle suitable for defending or attacking ground-based forces, so there is nothing we can do to help them if this occurs. I see no point in staying here.”
“We could help with the evacuation.”
“We could, but why would we?”
She smiled, although there was nothing funny about this situation. “Remember when we were talking about happiness and how helping others makes one happy?”
“Yes, Saree, but you also said there are times when it’s okay to be selfish. This seems like one of those times to me. If we allow others on this shuttle, it will become clear it’s been modified. And your frequency standard maintenance case is really too big for just a guitar case. What if someone asks what other instruments you have?”
Saree smirked. Hal was pulling out all the stops to persuade her. “Oh, that’s easy enough. It’s big enough to carry a week’s worth of supplies with me if I’m travelling on-planet where food or water is limited. Or trade goods. After all, all of this, including the case—” she swept both arms out “—is leased from Centauri University. It’s been modified over and over for different kinds of research. That’s why the airlock is big and there’s a big empty space in the middle for the case. And no, you can’t look in my case. I’m being very generous; don’t push it.”
“I suppose that is a reasonable explanation. I still think staying is unnecessarily risky for you and maybe for both of us. This shuttle isn’t suitable for anything but a solo traveler in a safe environment. We need some real weapons, Saree. We should be able to protect ourselves against another shuttle. We travel to some very dangerous systems.”
“Hmm. Maybe. We’ve always relied on stealth and our cover. And using the meteor defenses if we have to. If we upgraded to real weapons, wouldn’t it be obvious?”
“If we put weapons pods on the outside, yes. But if we upgraded the meteor defenses to more powerful ones, and took away some interior space, we could hide the weapons ports.”
“Unless that’s something you can do with remotes, we’d have to let strangers in here, working in and around the shuttle. It would be like me
having surgery, using a doctor I didn’t know for an elective procedure. It seems very risky. And very expensive. But if you’d like to look into it, please do. Maybe we can find a way.”
“I will do some research. Thank you for considering it, Saree.”
“Of course, Hal. I want to keep you safe. You need a way to protect yourself.”
She surveyed the shuttle, trying to consider it from a stranger’s point of view. While everything was put away properly, neat and clean, she could pack a little more efficiently and provide more storage space for evacuees. There wasn’t anything lying around to give her away, but she should double-check everything and lock her storage containers. She didn’t need curious fingers finding clues, like her tazan silk dress. Saree smiled. The material felt so good against her skin, and the style made even her rather spare figure look pretty good. Too bad she’d never get to wear it anywhere but here. She shook her head. No time to think about things like that—she had to prepare.
Well, locking the storage units would be a good start, but they weren’t particularly good locks; almost anybody could break in. Better than nothing, though. But for now, she would wait and see what Lightwave’s crew decided.
Chapter 6
Grant secured the lift van in the shuttle cargo bay behind him. Standing next to him on the ramp, Chief scanned the horizon beyond the cargo bay doors, not just visually, but using the shuttle’s scanners and Lightwave’s. The Phazeers sparred on the bare ground of the landing field, off to the left side of the shuttle. Tyron knew Katryn needed to vent—he’d pulled her out to the field before the rest of them unfastened their safety harnesses. Ruhger wanted to join them and work off some of his own anger, but he was Captain. He had a duty to them and the ship. Along with Chief, he checked the Lightwave’s scans in his holo—if they were surprised by a Galactica folder or shuttle they’d be dead as a piece of space junk.
