Heretic: Archangel Project. Book Three

by C. Gockel

  “What are you doing?”

  Noa’s voice from behind him almost made him drop the weapon. He looked up at her. He felt his neurons or nanos or circuitry or … whatever … misfire. His vision went black and then he felt the bright light of inspiration. “I’m making sure it’s charged,” he said, flipping the stunner on and making a show of looking at the read-out panel. “I don’t want it to die on you the way mine did on the roof of Manuel’s townhome.”

  “I don’t expect there will be any hand-to-hand combat in the Kanakah Cloud,” Noa replied and he could hear the purse of her lips. “There aren't any known settlements, only rumors.”

  “You didn’t expect we’d be stopping at Adam’s Station, either,” he said, eyes still on the read-out.

  “Touché,” Noa replied. Stepping closer, she said, “I need a towel.”

  He pulled one out of the drawer for her, looking up as he did. He felt whatever sparked his consciousness light up and dance, despite his hunger. Since the day he found her in the snow, her cheeks had filled out and regained their healthy glow. Her lips were no longer cracked and bloody. Her short hair was full and midnight black. She looked exactly like the Noa in the picture in his mind—but much better without the Fleet uniform, or anything at all. He wanted to smile, but his jaw could only shift. It made no sense that a cyborg could lose himself with a human woman, that passion could be a release that made lights go off behind his eyes, heated his skin, or completed him.

  Noa tugged on the towel. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding it. “Temptress,” he said. She rolled her eyes but grinned ear-to-ear as she strode back toward the bathroom. His vision tunneled again with every step. She glanced at him once before she stepped out of view, and he hoped his body wasn’t wavering from his hunger. Trying to stay nonchalant, he raised an eyebrow. Shaking her head, she went into the cleaning nook and the door slid closed.

  As soon as he heard the water turn on, he aimed the stunner at his naked side and pressed the trigger. Energy and heat fanned out across his skin. James’s eyes rolled up into his head. His mouth watered obscenely—a twisted bit of faulty programming made his body react to a stunner the same way it reacted to food. He knew if he looked down, his “tattoos” would be jet black. They were, he was fairly certain, heat and light sensitive, and were how he collected energy to supplement what he couldn’t get from eating.

  Taking a deep breath, his vision cleared, and he found himself staring into the eyes of Carl Sagan, only a hands-breadth from his nose. The creature’s whiskers twitched.

  “I’ll tell her, Carl Sagan,” James whispered. The statement made whatever sparked his consciousness dim. There wasn't really a choice. Sooner or later she'd know. He pushed back his bangs with his trembling hand. “But I can't tell her now … The rest of the ship would use me for spare parts if they knew.” And they would know if Noa knew. His mind vividly imagined how it would happen. Noa wouldn’t believe him. She’d drag him down to medical, and, with Monica’s help, take a scan of his internal organs. Monica wouldn’t feel bound to her Hippocratic Oath for a machine. She’d probably insist that James’s rations to their limited food supply be cut, and then everyone would ask why he wasn’t eating. Even if Monica didn’t, even if Noa convinced her to stay quiet, and allow him to partake in his meager S-rations, the scans would be in the Ark’s computer, and he knew Ghost would very much like to know what he was. Nor did Ghost have any reservations about dismembering cyborgs.

  His vision blurred. Of course, James did know Ghost’s secret …

  “How is he?” James asked.

  Stepping out of Ghost’s cabin, Monica’s head jerked up. There was a crease between her brows and she was frowning. “His vitals are all good, and from my scans I’d say the nano treatment has completely reduced the swelling in his brain …”

  James took a step closer. “But?”

  The lines on her forehead deepened. “But when he woke up, he was babbling about it being impossible that we were at lightspeed. He was very worried that the coordinates you gave the commander would send us headlong into a comet or a star … he doesn’t remember sending them to you.”

  James was grateful that his muscles couldn’t contort into the frown that wanted bloom across his face. Ghost had been using an off-ship computer to chart lightspeed courses faster than the Ark's ancient systems could manage, hack into ethernet conversations, and create holographic disguises. James wasn’t precisely sure why Ghost had been keeping his ability hidden. If the crew knew James was connected to the time gate computers, they'd want to know who, or what, had taken over Time Gate 8. If they found out that the gate itself was in control, and realized that machines had made the leap to self-awareness, that knowledge would lead them to medically examine him, and then they’d discover that James himself was a machine. But James didn’t feel like Ghost was a cyborg like him, or connected to the time gates; he was almost sure the man was connected to the etherless supercomputer he had built on Luddeccea. So why the secrecy?

  “May I talk to him?” James asked, trying to tamp down the desperation he was beginning to feel. They’d left Atlantia just over nine hours ago. They were at lightspeed, beyond the reach of Luddeccean warships, and they’d remain so for the next month. He’d spent all of those nine hours with Noa; he wanted, needed, to stay with her when she wasn’t at the helm. After they reached the hidden time gate in the Kanakah Cloud and made the jump to Time Gate 1 in Sol System, he didn’t know what would happen to them, or even to himself. He couldn't let Ghost give him away a second earlier.

  Monica gazed at the floor. “I … maybe it would be a good idea.” She looked up at James quickly. “Perhaps you could share the message he sent with the coordinates?”

  James nodded. “Of course.” He'd lied to the crew, telling them Ghost had given him the lightspeed course.

  Monica released a loud breath. “Okay, yes, talk to him … but …”

  James cocked his head.

  “... don't push him too hard,” Monica said.

  James thought of the piles of cyborg parts in Ghost's lair on Luddeccea, and Ghost’s suggestion they sell 6T9 for parts on Adam's Station. James the human hadn’t believed in violence as a means to solve problems … James the machine was still trying to reconcile that dead man's beliefs with his own apathy toward violence and even murder. He didn't think he'd mind hurting or killing Ghost; but of course if he did, he might wind up on the wrong side of an airlock—and even if they spared his life, Noa would never trust him again. “Of course,” he said.

  For a beat too long, Monica didn't move. He fixed his eyes on her—heard the rush of static—and then heard one of Sterling's men over Monica's ethernet channel, “Doctor, I need you here. This man's vitals are unstable.” Shaking her head, Monica stepped away from Ghost's doorway and said over the channel, “I'll be right there.”

  James didn't move until she'd disappeared into the lift. And then he didn't bother to knock; instead he reached into the Ark's ether, so recently created by Ghost. The man had an ether override for every door aboard the ship—but Ghost had put his own behind a double passcode. James's skin itched with the static of irritation. He only heard the voices of the time gates after a blow to the head, but they always seemed to hear him. Closing his eyes, he focused. “If you want data, and me not to be sent floating home, you'll help me override the passcodes to the ship's doorways.”

  For a moment, nothing happened. “Don't you want your data?” James murmured aloud. His left hand trembled; his right hand formed a fist.

  A bright white exploded behind his eyes, and then in the white, symbols appeared. James plugged them into the Ark's computer and the door whooshed open.

  Ghost was sitting on the bed, putting on some socks. His eyes widened at sight of James. “You!”

  James walked into the cabin and commanded the door to shut.

  Ghost's sock slipped from his hands. “What do you want?”

  James tilted his head. Should he try to frighte
n the man? Try to flatter him?

  Ghost sneered, “I know you are the archangel,” and James’s skin heated at the implicit threat behind the words, and also the stupidity. He felt a bright spark behind his eyes. “A lot of people know that, Ghost,” James replied. It was probably true. Monica's daughter had heard the Luddecceans were looking for the archangel, and then Adam had demanded his and Noa's surrender. The doctor was smart enough to put one and two together. Wren had heard the same conversations aboard the Luddeccean vessel when he'd negotiated Monica and her daughter's release … he’d probably figured it out, as well. Manuel and Gunny must suspect—the time gate had said his code name as they escaped Luddeccea. Noa had known since the beginning.

  James took a step closer, heat flaring beneath his skin. “But do you even know what that means?”

  Ghost drew back, eyes wide, his lower lip trembling.

  “Well?” James said. Could Ghost blackmail him more directly?

  “You're … you're … connected to what's happening on Time Gate 8,” Ghost stammered.

  “Yes,” said James. “But why?” Both his hands balled into fists. Did Ghost know more than James did? The gates spoke of needing more data. Is that all James was? A vessel for data collection, an animated observation buoy set loose among the human race? Did the data collection have an end date? He took another step closer to the programmer.

  “I don't know ...” Ghost stuttered.

  An air vent clicked. Sparks jumped along James's spine. He believed Ghost. If he’d known what James was, wouldn’t he have tried to prove it by now? Or to have sold him for parts on Adam’s Station?

  “Why are you trying to threaten me, Ghost?” And he realized that he knew the answer. “You're afraid that I'll tell everyone that you're talking to a computer other than the Ark's.” He raised an eyebrow. “I suspect it is the etherless computer you made for the Luddecceans. Why are you so afraid of them knowing?”

  Ghost swallowed. He opened his mouth—

  James cut him off. “Don't lie to me.”

  Ghost's mouth snapped shut.

  James hand trembled at his side. “You're not just talking to the supercomputer, you're using faster than light methods to do so. It's the discovery of the century. You should want it to be known far and wide.” Light flashed in his eyes. He remembered Noa's words, “Ghost isn't really a genius.” James sighed. “You didn't really invent the technology, did you?” What other reason could he have for not gloating about it?

  Ghost didn't say a word.

  “Did you steal it?” James asked.

  Ghost looked up fast. “No!”

  James’s eyebrow rose.

  Drawing back in his seat, Ghost amended, “Maybe.”

  James took a step closer to the man. Lip quivering, Ghost began to babble. “Right after I left Time Gate 1 to begin my contract on Luddeccea, I received plans through the ether for the Luddeccean etherless supercomputer. The design was beautiful, elegant ...”

  James blinked. “Who were they from?”

  Ghost put a hand through his hair and didn't meet James's eyes. “The origins of the message was Time Gate 1—but I couldn't determine from whom. There are over a million people there at any given time.” He shrugged. “I figured it was just another disgruntled techie working for Fleet.”

  James had a sudden feeling it wasn't a 'whom' they came from but a 'what.' He remembered Time Gate 1's 'voice' buzzing in his mind. He pressed. “And you used these schematics that you received from a stranger?”

  Ghost shook. “There was nothing in the schematics that was really new, it was just so well optimized ...”

  James stared at him. “Then how are you still communicating with it? There is no current technology for faster than light communication without a time gate.”

  Ghost's Adam's apple bobbed. “Just before my contract with Luddeccea ended, they sent me the data chips.”

  “Data chips?” James felt as though his mind was winking on and off.

  Ghost nodded. “They promised me that if I installed one chip in the Luddeccean computer's central drive, and the other in my own neural net, I'd be able to communicate with the computer from anywhere in the universe in real time.”

  James blinked. “You trusted an unknown entity and plugged in a device that in all probability would sabotage the computer the Luddecceans paid you to build?”

  Ghost's lip curled. “The Luddecceans didn't appreciate me, or what I built! They were going to fire me! I'd thought they'd keep me on, and that I would have access to the machine I built for my research!” The man looked out at the stars. “The chip, it allowed me to use the Luddecceans’ computer. I can slip into any frequency, decrypt any ether code. All I have to do is look at a person or a machine, concentrate, and she can plow through billions of possible frequencies and passcodes, and then I'm in their conversations.”

  He called the machine a 'she'? James blinked. And then, still dumbfounded, said, “And you weren't suspicious?”

  “Of course I was suspicious! But the opportunities it presented …” He looked up at James with wide eyes. “I used it to make the holographic necklaces I showed you, and the responsive holograms you saw in my home.” Ghost nodded in a rapid staccato motion. “I've had the idea for those holographic devices in mind for years, and the Fleet has only laughed at me, said that they didn't have enough computing resources for substrateless holograms to work!”

  James rocked on his feet. He'd thought when Ghost said “opportunities” that he meant quietly divesting bank accounts of a thousandth of a credit at a time, not opportunities for invention.

  Ghost rubbed his scraggly beard. “The necklaces are so power hungry, though. They never last very long. I still haven't figured out how to get around that. Next to a source like the geothermal converter in my home, it was no problem, but...”

  As Ghost rambled on, James realized that the reason for the initial visit had been completely forgotten by the man in his excitement for his holograms.

  James could clearly see why Time Gate 1, or all the gates, would want to assist Ghost in building the Luddeccean computer. The gates' intel was limited to what was passed over the ether, and since the Luddeccean central computer was etherless, they would be unable to access it. The data chip Ghost had installed was, in twenty-first century parlance, a bug in the machine by which the gates, or a single gate, could listen in on the Luddeccean authorities.

  James’s left hand trembled. But if the time gates controlled Luddeccea's central computer, they could also control the Luddeccean defense grid. They could have stopped the launch of the Luddeccean Fleet that was hovering about Time Gate 8. He shook his head. There were games within games going on here, and he and Ghost were both pawns.

  “Why are you keeping it a secret from the crew?” James asked him.

  Ghost ceased his rambling on technical details. His eyes narrowed. “Why are you?”

  Words poured from James’s lips, without a thought … or even his volition. “An accident I sustained on Earth literally caused my death. During my revival I was hyperaugmented. I was linked to a supercomputer, like you. But it was done without my permission or my knowledge … and I think it was supposed to be just a tracking device—but the information flows two ways, not one. If it got out that I could hear people's ether conversations and decode frequencies and encryption …”

  James snapped his mouth shut to make himself stop. The lie had come as easily from his lips as ‘I am James Sinclair.’ He put a hand to his jaw. Was that inspiration? Or had it had been preprogrammed? No, he belonged to himself. He'd proven that on Adam's Station when the time gates had wanted him to shut down, and he hadn't. He'd come back to save Noa.

  Ghost's eyes got wide, and he nodded rapidly. “Yes, yes, on Luddeccea … well, they wanted me dead even though they didn't know I'm the Ghost. And the Galactic banks when we get back to Sol, all I have to do is to focus in their lobbies and …” He looked up at James. “I only did it once … or twice … on Luddeccea t
o fund my research.” His nostrils flared and his voice became petulant. “Should have gone to Libertas and set up shop there, but it's cold, and the air is thin and I didn't expect Luddeccea to go down the drain so quickly.”

  James rubbed is jaw. From the late 1400s to early 1900s Europeans had been able to subjugate the people of Earth because they had firearms. What he and Ghost had … what the time gates had … it was a technological advantage of a completely other sort, but it could be a weapon. Have an enemy? Drain his bank account, freeze his communications, or like Ghost had done to the scanner back on Adam's Station, distort the data. In a way the Luddecceans hadn't been entirely crazy; human kind was in danger and the threat had a non-human origin. James felt static flare beneath his skin. But he wasn't dangerous … not generally, anyway.

  “I understand why you didn't tell me,” Ghost said. “I was … in shock when I woke up and found out what you’d done.”

  James’s hand slid from his jaw.

  Ghost swallowed. “I'll recant, tell the doctor I was confused when I woke up.”

  “Thank you, Ghost,” James said. The words bit as he spoke them. He really had nothing to apologize for.

  “Yes, yes,” Ghost said, waving a hand at James. “This is just something we'll keep between ourselves.” His eyes narrowed. It might have been the lighting, but for a moment the little man looked calculating, almost feral.

  James’s vision went white. “Ghost,” said James, his vision returning. “Like Descartes’ Ghost in the machine?”

  “Yes!” Ghost said with an oily smile.

  James's jaw shifted. Descartes' “Ghost in the machine” was the animal that haunted the rational mind of man. The 'ghost' was all man's baser instincts, and the man before him had chosen that to be his namesake.

  “I can't trust Ghost,” James said. While they were aboard the Ark, they could help each other—James had saved Ghost's life as well as everyone else's when he'd charted the course out of Atlantia's icy ocean. Ghost couldn’t be awake all the time, and might need his help navigating the relatively uncharted Kanakah Cloud. But once they got back to Sol System, James would be a liability, someone who could expose the programmer.