Evergence: The Prodigal Sun

by Sean Williams

  "That's impossible," said Roche. "The recovery team on the Midnight physically pulled him out of the capsule."

  Teh raised a hand. "Let me clarify that," he said. "Perhaps I should have said he did not exist as an individual."

  Emmerik lifted his thick eyebrows. "He was someone else?"

  "Or no one at all." Teh's nervous eyes dropped again to his notes. "Real-time analysis of the blood flow in his brain reveals an absence of lesions and clots — no physical damage, in other words, that would suggest the erasure of a previous personality. What we see before us is a man whose brain is functioning perfectly — albeit that it has only been conscious for a matter of days."

  Neva leaned forward. "So how is it that he can talk? If he's only thirteen days old, surely he should be as helpless as a newborn baby. And as mindless."

  "I don't know," said Teh. "One possibility is that the capsule in which he was found contained more than the usual life-suspend/support outfit. During his time adrift, it may have been educating him, training him." He shrugged. "We have no way of knowing."

  "Training him for what?" Sabra asked.

  "Why don't you ask the man himself?" put in Roche, gesturing at Cane.

  "I have no memories at all prior to the Midnight," he said, preempting the question. "If I was educated subliminally, then I'm afraid I can offer no answers which might explain what my training was intended for."

  "But why would anyone do such a thing?" asked Neva. "It's crazy."

  Haid brought the matter to an end by standing and saying, "We'll come back to that later. First we should hear the other results of the examination."

  Teh nodded. "We conducted the standard tests: X-rays, tissue typing, genetic analysis, and so on. Without exception, the results of these tests were anomalous."

  "In what way?" Roche asked.

  "See for yourself." The medic displayed a handheld computer down which scrolled test results. Roche caught perhaps one line in five and rapidly became lost among the endless procession of data.

  "What you're seeing is Cane's genetic transcript, coding exons and introns both," Teh explained. "When you compare it to his overall physiognomy, the results are weird — to say the least. He may look normal on the surface, but underneath ... " His voice trailed off as he scanned through a variety of holographic images, then returned: "Just look at his cell structure, his central nervous system, his gut, his lungs — and his brain. Have you ever seen anything like that before? Anywhere?"

  "No," said Roche. "But that doesn't necessarily mean — "

  "I understand your reluctance to accept the results of the test," Teh said. "But I'm afraid there can be no doubt. Our diagnostic database is customised to the Pristine form, and precisely because it's not equipped to deal with data outside certain guidelines, it is ideally suited to provide a direct comparison with what we would regard as usual. For instance, Adoni Cane's cellular structure is more compact than normal, resulting in tissue that is more elastic, yet stronger; likewise his skeleton is denser, his intestinal tract longer, his lungs of superior capacity, his heart more powerful, and his immune system more efficient than what would be regarded as typical of a Pristine Human. He possesses several glands that do not correspond with any I am aware of, yet lacks certain vestigial organs we all take for granted. His brain displays a quite remarkable number of structural anomalies, and his chromosomal map matches no known genotype.

  "In short," Teh concluded, "Adoni Cane is not Pristine — although what he is, exactly, has yet to be determined."

  "Any guesses?" asked Neva.

  "Well, I'm not qualified enough to even guess," Teh said. Then, for Roche's benefit, he added, "You must understand, Commander, that we have no schools here. What training we indigenes receive comes from the convicts. My own was courtesy of a woman sent to Sciacca's World for malpractice." He smiled at a private memory. "She assured me she knew what she was talking about, even though her knowledge was not — "

  "Don't feel the need to justify yourself, Sylvester," intruded Haid. "No one is doubting your ability."

  Roche wasn't so confident, but she said nothing.

  Embarrassed, Teh turned again to his notes. "Well," he said, "it seems to me that the differences between Cane and the Pristine Human are not random. That is, in each and every case they serve to make him superior to the norm. His kidneys absorb more toxins; he can see and hear things we cannot without artificial amplification; his tissue repairs faster than ours."

  Not for the first time that day, Roche looked with some amazement at the thin scar that was all that remained of the gash Cane had suffered at Houghton's Cross.

  "In fact," Teh continued, "the only area in which he is inferior to anyone sitting at this table is reproduction."

  "He's sterile?" Sabra asked the question without taking her eyes from Cane's impassive face, her lips pursed in a mixture of repugnance and admiration. "A superhuman drone?"

  "That would be one interpretation of the data, yes," said Teh.

  "But he looks so normal."

  "His appearance does belie the uniqueness of the rest of his physique," said Teh. "And I dare say that this has been deliberately programmed — "

  "Programmed?" interrupted Emmerik.

  "Isn't it obvious?" said Teh. "He can't be an Exotic we've never encountered before. Someone knew what they were doing when they built him. Someone who knows more about genetics and the Human form than I ever will."

  Haid allowed the others a moment to absorb this before asking the obvious question:

  "But why?"

  Roche watched the faces of everyone in the room as they thought it through. Haid had had time to reach the obvious conclusion, as had Sylvester Teh. Neva shook her head in irritation; Sabra's lips pursed even tighter; Emmerik scowled deeply; the two security guards stiffened. Roche kept her expression carefully neutral, although the answer to the question seemed obvious enough, and indeed disturbing.

  Surprisingly, Cane was the first to speak.

  "To allow me to infiltrate Pristine society, I imagine." His voice was even and uncoloured by emotion. He might have been talking about someone else. "Given the abilities I possess, I can only be either a spy or a weapon."

  "Exactly." Haid leaned forward, his one arm splayed flat on the stone tabletop. "Emmerik warned me about your ability to kill without apparent remorse, when you need to. He and Neva also witnessed your extraordinary skill in combat; anyone able to disarm powered armour with hands cuffed deserves respect in my book — or suspicion. And there can be no questioning your intelligence, either. I have no doubt that, given time, you could do almost anything you wanted. But that brings us no closer to the answer: what do you want to do?" Haid shrugged helplessly. "I doubt that even you know the answer to that, do you?"

  Cane shook his head.

  "So it seems more appropriate to tackle the problem not from the why angle, but rather the who."

  Cane shrugged. "Someone who doesn't like Pristine Humans?"

  "That could be any one of a number of Castes," said Emmerik wryly.

  "True." Roche knew that although none of the seven local Castes hated Pristine Humans specifically, at least one Caste's members despised everyone but themselves. And there were a number of splinter groups who would gladly accept responsibility. "But that leaves us with plenty of suspects."

  "The Eckandar Trade Axis is the most advanced in this area," said Teh, "and it guards its knowledge jealously. Or so I've heard."

  "It's true," Roche agreed. "The Eckandi will sell just about anything other than genetic technology."

  "I don't understand." Sabra frowned. "What use would Eckandi genetics be to Pristines?"

  "We all spring from a common, carbon-based organism," explained Teh. "Our genetic codes may speak a different language now, but it's still all written on the same paper. Genome maps and so on are frequently interchangeable."

  "So they're the obvious suspects. Aren't they?" Sabra turned to face Roche when she hesitated to agree.

/>   "Not necessarily," said Roche. "The Dato have been interested, too. One of their pre-Commonwealth leaders — Ataman Vereine, I believe — almost went to war with the Eckandar Trade Axis when they refused to sell what they knew. She may have got what she wanted, or developed it herself."

  "I thought they'd moved into cyber-assist programs instead," said Haid.

  "Maybe," said Roche, although she had heard nothing of the sort. "That could be a cover, though."

  "True. Cane might be a Dato spy, which would explain why he was planted on an Armada vessel." Haid counted on his fingers. "That makes two. Who else?"

  "The Kesh hate everyone," Emmerik mused, echoing Roche's earlier thought, "but they've never shown interest in this sort of warfare."

  "And the Surin Agora is too busy squabbling within itself to attack anyone else," said Roche. "The same applies to most of the other major governments. Why spend so much time and money fighting Pristines when there are already enough problems at home?"

  "If Veden was awake, we could ask him," said Neva. "About the Eckandi, I mean."

  "He is awake," said Haid. "But he was not well enough to attend, I'm afraid. The nanomachines we had were an old paramilitary design, barely sufficient. Still, I doubt whether he would tell us even if he did know. Neither the Eckandar Trade Axis nor the Commerce Artel would ever risk spreading publicity like that."

  "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place." Teh's voice intruded softly, uneasily, into the debate. "We're looking all around us for suspects, when maybe we should be looking in another direction entirely."

  "Like where?" asked Roche. "Within? If you're suggesting that COE Intelligence — "

  "No, no," cut in Teh quickly. "I mean into the past." He leaned back into his chair, away from the frowns and puzzled expressions around the table. "There was another group apart from the Eckandar Trade Axis which possessed more than the average working knowledge of genetics. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, they were the original source of the Eckandi's current know-how."

  "Who?" said Sabra.

  "A splinter group from the older Pristine governments. Pre-Commonwealth — even pre-Dominion, I think — but definitely local. Obsessed with Transcendence by means of biomodification. The Eckandi helped them build a base, if I remember correctly, and they traded knowledge for services. I don't recall what happened to them — except that there was some sort of backlash — but if what they gave the Eckandar Trade Axis was only a small amount of their complete knowledge, then they might have been just the right people to design something like Cane."

  "I've never heard of anyone like that," said Haid.

  "I have," said Emmerik. "My mother used to tell me stories about them when I was a child, along with all the other Transcendence stories about the Crescend."

  Haid faced Emmerik. "What were they called?"

  Emmerik shrugged, but it was Teh that spoke.

  "I can't remember," said the physician. "And I'll admit it seems far-fetched — "

  "More than that. It sounds crazy." Sabra didn't bother to hide her scepticism. "How long must Cane have been drifting out there for him to be one of them?"

  "A long time." Teh shook his head. "Hundreds, maybe thousands, of years."

  "And was he?" the woman asked Roche.

  "I don't know," she said. "The science team on the Midnight might have analysed the corrosion on the hull of the capsule, but their data was lost with the ship."

  "It's pointless asking anyway." Sabra looked away. "No one could survive more than a month or two in a life-support capsule."

  "That's the usual assumption," said Haid. "Which was why Sylvester suspected that such a stretch might have caused Cane's amnesia." He sighed. "And it seems we've come full circle. Does anybody have anything they'd like to say that hasn't already been covered?"

  Sabra raised her hand. When Haid looked to her, she said, "He's obviously dangerous. We should get rid of him now. Turn him in to the wardens before he has a chance to destroy us. He only says he doesn't remember anything, after all. We would be gambling an awful lot simply on the strength of his word."

  Haid grimaced. "How about you, Emmerik? What are your feelings on this?"

  The Mbatan looked uncertainly at Cane, then back to Haid. "Having seen him fight, I'm still wary." After a few seconds of staring into Cane's unblinking eyes, he said, "But I've decided to trust him. He fought for us, after all."

  "Whatever he was, and is," put in Neva, "he's on Roche's side. So as long as she remains with us, I don't think we're in any danger."

  "Roche?" Haid indicated that it was her turn to speak.

  "I can understand your suspicion," she said, "and your reluctance to put faith in someone you hardly know. But I'm in the same position. For the most part you've treated me fairly, and I respect that. As long as our goals remain the same, you can count on me for support. And I too believe you can count on Cane as well."

  Haid nodded. "What about you, Cane? What do you think we should do with you? Dispose of you, or use you as a weapon?"

  "The answer seems obvious." Cane smiled slightly, the only expression he had worn throughout the meeting. "If I am a biological weapon — one that has been programmed by others, what's more — then I am inherently unreliable. My instinct tells me to follow Roche, but that may change at any moment. Who knows when my programming will take over? Or what I might do? If I was in your position, faced with such a choice, I would rely on my own abilities and not take a chance on something so unpredictable."

  Haid's expression was one of bafflement. "You're suggesting that we get rid of you?"

  "No. I'm simply saying that that is what I would do in your position." His smile widened. "Or try to, anyway."

  * * * *

  Haid called the meeting to an end moments later, saying he needed to think prior to reaching a decision. Before he could leave, Roche asked if she could go to the medical centre.

  "I don't know." Haid didn't hide his reservations. "Veden only regained consciousness an hour ago, and I don't think you're particularly high on his visiting list."

  "I won't stay long," she said, not sure whether she was telling the truth. Teh's point about the Eckandi had been an interesting one. If Veden knew something, she might be able to persuade Maii to lever it out of him. "I just want to get my shoulder checked. While I'm there, I can make sure he's okay so I can put Maii at ease."

  Haid hesitated. "All right. But leave when Sylvester tells you to."

  "Don't worry. I only want a couple of minutes."

  Haid nodded reluctantly. "You know the way?"

  "That's okay," Sabra said, stepping forward. "I'll take her there."

  "Thanks." Surprised by the friendly gesture, Roche almost missed the look that passed between the rebel leader and his assistant: a look of warning from Haid, and resentment from Sabra.

  "Don't worry," said the woman. "I'll take good care of her."

  "You do that." Haid turned back to Roche. "I'll see you later."

  The two guards escorted Cane out of the conference room at the same time Roche and Sabra left, causing a moment's confusion in the narrow doorway. The corridor outside took them to an elevator that was, again, barely large enough for the five of them.

  "We'll wait for the next one," said Sabra.

  "No, it's all right." Roche slid into the carriage between one of the guards and the wall. "We'll fit."

  The doors closed with a sullen hiss. As the elevator jerked upward, the butt of one guard's pistol jabbed Roche in the hip. She twisted away from him in the confined space.

  "If you think this is bad," he said, smiling, "be thankful you're not topside. Delcasalle's got patrols in every quarter looking for you."

  "He has?" Roche's brow creased. "I wasn't told that."

  "Ameidio doesn't tell you everything," Sabra said, her eyes flashing. The good humor that had prompted her to take Roche to the sick bay appeared to be waning fast.

  "I don't expect him to," said Roche.

  "Really?" The elevato
r paused as they passed a floor, causing the carriage to sway. "It doesn't look like that to me."

  Roche fixed her with a calm and unflinching stare. "No? What does it look like to you, Sabra?"

  Sabra scowled silently to herself and faced the dented and scrawled doors of the elevator. Roche glimpsed one of the guards in the corner grimacing.

  "There's a rumor in the ranks," said Cane. "I overhead it before the meeting. It's said that you're a spy for the wardens."

  Roche groaned. "You're kidding."

  "Unfortunately not," said Cane.

  "But what about the Midnight? Houghton's Cross?"

  "The full truth of your identity is being kept secret to prevent word leaking to Enforcement plants on the surface," said Cane. "In the absence of information, speculation spreads."

  "But ... " Roche fought to contain her sense of outrage in words. "If that's the case, then why would Haid be telling me anything at all?"

  "It's not hard to seduce a cripple," said Sabra coldly.

  "What?" Roche snapped.

  "Why not?" Sabra's face flushed an angry red. "He was a proud man once, before coming here. And, as they say, a beautiful woman is a powerful poison."

  "Your anger betrays your jealousy, Sabra," said Roche, fighting to keep her own temper in check. Then: "Is that what you really think of me?"

  Sabra glared at her through the flickering light of the elevator. "I don't know what to think of you, Roche. But I'll tell you this much: I don't trust you or your friend here." She glanced pointedly at Cane. "And jealousy has nothing to do with it. I just don't like the idea of Haid's judgment being affected at this stage by some misplaced trust. It's too dangerous to our operations."

  "Did he give you any reason to question his judgment at the meeting?"

  The elevator shuddered to a halt. "We get out here," Sabra said, ignoring the question. "You coming or not?"

  Roche squeezed her way past the guard and out of the elevator, her pulse racing with suppressed anger. What was wrong with the woman? If she wanted to make a scene, why do it now? Why didn't she do it back at the meeting?