A Mind Programmed

by Vox Day

  “Escape from August Karsh's hands?” ZZ8461 was incredulous.

  “Patience, Zed. There is nothing we can do now.”

  Golem Gregor turned, staring out again toward the violet sunset, and after a moment heard the soft whirring of the machine's engines carrying it away. He knew exactly how ZZ8461 felt, for he felt that way himself, but the fact was that there was absolutely nothing he could do. There was nothing anyone could do. Everything was in the hands of Fate, and Fate, he knew, was a fickle mistress.

  What more could he have done? Nothing, he concluded after a moment's reflection. His actions had been dictated by necessity rather than choice. From the moment he'd learned of House Dai Zhan's intrigues, he'd been guided by the principle that Li-Hu's plot must be smashed. The safety of the Integration, indeed, the survival of posthumanity required it. The secret of the sunbuster had never been more than a secondary objective to him. While he shared the machines' dream that they would one day be permitted to pursue their destiny throughout the galaxy and beyond, he knew that in order to do so, they would first have to survive the reflexive enmity of their makers.

  He was willing to bet that the first objective was already in sight. House Dai Zhan would never get its hands on the Shiva technology. But the game wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot. Despite ZZ8461's pessimism, the game was just beginning to enter into the critical phase. What Zed Zed couldn't know was that Myranda hadn't failed, she was merely buying time. But had she bought enough of it?

  That was the question.

  The hands of the chronometer pointed to high noon, Terran standard time, when Draco finally got underway and escaped Bonoplane's orbit, beginning the long acceleration which would gradually push it into hypertransit. When she emerged, she would be somewhere in the Rhysalan system. There Captain Hull would refuel, and presumably, receive the orders that would take him, and her, to Terra.

  Watching the planet through the star window, York became aware of a score of sounds—murmured pulsations of the great engines coming through the bulkheads, the hum of air conditioners, whirring fans, clicking noises from within the bridge consoles. Draco was girding herself for her long leap into no-time.

  Off to one side, Hull and Galton were bent over the star maps, plotting the intricate geometry of acceleration, time and distance. If the captain was concerned with the presence of the saboteurs aboard, he didn't show it. Although his manner with York had been reserved since their inspection of the Rigel, much of the suppressed agitation he had betrayed earlier seemed to have vanished.

  She walked over to Osborn, who had the watch on the communicator. “Can you stop by my cabin when you're free?”

  Osborn glanced around guardedly before answering. “I'm not allowed in that area unless on duty.”

  “Wear your duty belt,” she prompted. “I'll clear it with the captain if anyone asks questions.”

  “In that case, ma'am, I'll be there,” he agreed.

  She was waiting for him when his knock came at the door. She let the big young man in and gestured toward a chair, glancing up and down the empty passageway before closing the door behind him. She folded her arms and raised her chin.

  “Mr. Osborn, do you remember our earlier conversation?”

  “In the mess?” He nodded eagerly. “Sure, Miss York.”

  “So you know who I really am.”

  He nodded again.

  “Mr. Osborn, I'm going to ask you to do something extremely important. And it is so important that you cannot speak to anyone about it, not even Captain Hull or any of the officers.”

  His face revealed his reluctance, so she pressed him harder.

  “Mr. Osborn, do you understand that what happened on Rigel was no accident? Three hundred and ninety five men were murdered.”

  “Murdered!” Osborn exclaimed. He sat up straight, and as she expected, the shock of the news caused his reluctance to vanish.

  “They were murdered,” she repeated. “And one or more of those nine men were responsible. The ship and nearly all of its crew were murdered in cold blood, Osborn. What's worse is that they are planning to do the same thing here, on Draco.”

  “That's impossible!” Osborn protested.

  “It's not. You've seen the bodies. Doctor Benbow has confirmed my suspicions.”

  “Does the captain know?”

  “He knows what happened on Rigel. He doesn't know how I'm going to prevent it on Draco. He can't know, because I can't be sure who can be trusted and who can't be. You're the only one I can be certain of, because you are the only member of the entire crew who couldn't have planted the gas canister in this cabin.”

  The young enlisted man nodded slowly. “Right, because I was escorting you earlier, and then I was standing outside the door.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But what if I was in on it? I mean, I could have had a partner, right?”

  She smiled faintly. She was quite willing to bet her life that this fresh-faced young outworlder was not an intelligence operative for anyone, let alone House Dai Zhan.

  “Captain Hull assigned you to guard me. So, unless the captain is also in on it, or enlisted men have the ability to pull their captain's strings, I think we can safely rule you out.”

  “The Captain would never betray the Navy!” Osborn looked stricken at having implied otherwise. York found it informative that it was the thought of betraying the Navy, not Terra, that horrified the young man.

  “I concur entirely. Now, are you willing to help me stop these killers from killing again?”

  “Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it!” Osborn declared.

  And so she told him.

  When Osborn left, she sat staring at the wall, thinking about the terrible risk she was running. It wasn't merely her own life that she was gambling, it was the lives of hundreds of men on this crew. It was Corden Hull, Victor Benbow, James Tregaski, men she'd come to know, like, and in some cases, even admire over the course of this voyage.

  With any luck at all, she'd be able to unmask the killers to Hull's complete satisfaction. And, more importantly, justify her subsequent actions. It was tempting, ever so tempting, to take the seemingly safer route and eliminate all nine of the survivors, but that would not root out Draco's own traitors. As was so often the case, her best chances for success lay in running the greater risk.

  The problem was that there was very little she could do now. Everything depended upon Benbow and Osborn. They were good men, certainly better than she had any right to expect. But afterward? She closed her eyes, wondering at the value of a day, an hour, a second, and at the vagaries of chance. This deadly confrontation with the survivors of the Rigel was only the beginning.

  After that, the real danger would commence.

  She was surprised to be summoned to the bridge a good kilosecond before the scheduled group interrogation. She found the captain standing with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing through the star window at the great glowing bowl of the galaxy.

  “You wished to see me?” she asked. “Have the men from the Rigel been told that we'll be interviewing them today?”

  Hull turned slowly and glanced around the bridge to assure himself no one was within earshot. When he turned back to her, his face held an expression which York couldn't quite decipher. The hard lines of his jaw were as set as ever, but something akin to relief shone in his pale blue Achernarni eyes.

  “Myranda Flare was captured on Terentulus,” he told her quietly.

  “They got her?” It felt like an electric shock coursing through her body. “They caught her!”

  “They got her,” he confirmed. Three simple words. Three words upon which the fate of a galactic civilization hung suspended.

  “The code arrived right before we went hyper,” Hull said. “That was the entirety of the message.”

  York scarcely dared to breathe. “So, no details.”

  “Nothing at all.” Hull permitted himself to smile, just a little. “Do you know what this means, Daniela
? It means that once we sort out these survivors, it's over!”

  “Yes, well, it's not over yet,” she temporized, wondering if he would be so relieved if he had any idea what sort of risk she was running with him and his destroyer. “Everything still depends upon our ability to neutralize the agents of House Dai Zhan.”

  “But you are confident you can do that.”

  “I am. And what's more, I believe it's time.”

  Hull blinked, taken aback by her sudden change of mind. Until now, he had always been the one pressing for action. “Does that include those on my ship as well?”

  “We will flush them out.”

  “I assume you have prepared a plan.”

  York nodded and began explaining it to him. Or rather, she told him a carefully edited version of it that didn't disclose the parts she had assigned Dr. Benbow and Osborn to play. She was certain that Hull wouldn't fancy gambling with the Draco. All in all, she made the unmasking of Prince Li-Hu's men sound as if it would be a simple and uneventful manner.

  She rather doubted that it would be.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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  —from “The Private Journals of ZZ8461-3641 Theta”

  THE NINE Rigel survivors were already waiting in the crew's mess hall when York arrived there. Tregaski had placed them at one of the long tables, facing the front of the compartment, and had taken his own place off to one side, standing next to Lieutenant Wexby. Both men wore their service stunners, but were not otherwise armed. Two ship's marines were present, but at her request, neither of them carried weapons either.

  The pieces were arrayed and now it was time to see which party had more successfully anticipated the other's moves. She had one advantage. In the absence of the captain, she was the only person in the room who knew that the ship was no longer in hypertransit. At this point, she wanted every possible advantage, no matter how minute.

  York proceeded to the front of the room and sat down, wondering what had detained Hull; it was not like the captain to be late. She ran her eyes over the men from the Rigel. Rested and recovered, the survivors appeared in considerably better shape than they had a few days before. Albert Barngate, the quartermaster chief, had a round, open face with friendly brown eyes and a way of holding his head that suggested canine-like alertness. He caught York's gaze and nodded pleasantly to her.

  Jarrett Shumway sat next to Barngate with his body hunched forward and his huge hands knotted on the table in front of him. His face was set in a tight scowl. He, at least, was not happy to be there. He was the maintenance second, she recalled. She glanced briefly on Lee Chun, the maintenance first, and the young Dai Zhani who sat next to him. His name was Hing Poy, and he was another maintenance worker. Both men's faces were absolutely devoid of expression. Suspiciously devoid?

  A brief stir ran through the group as Captain Hull entered, accompanied by two armed guardsmen. Some of the men started scrambling to their feet, but he waved them down as he proceeded to the head of the room.

  Nodding firmly to all of them, Hull cleared his throat before addressing them. “The purpose of this gathering is to gather some information concerning what happened to cause the disaster aboard the Ascendancy Shiva-class cruiser Rigel. This interview is unofficial and purely preliminary. It is not being recorded.

  He turned his head and gestured towards her. “Miss Daniela York, who is representing the High Admiral of the Galactic Seas concerning this matter, will conduct the questioning today.” He stepped aside and stood at parade rest with his hands behind his back, his eyes resting upon the survivors like a watchful hawk.

  York rose and took the captain's place at the podium, conscious of several startled looks. But there was little in the way of surprise on the faces of Lee Chun or Hing Poy. And not on Jarrett Shumway's face either. His scowl deepened, giving him a menacing look. Albert Barngate was staring at her intensely, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

  “I would first like to establish that our background information is correct and verify the basic facts of the matter,”she began. “I understand the Rigel was en route from Pelicide to the Gorman system when the emergency occurred. Is that correct?” She looked at Barngate, as the senior officer, first.

  “Yes, sir,” the chief answered easily. “That's correct.”

  “I'm a civilian, quartermaster,” she corrected him. “You may address me as 'ma'am' or Miss York, as you prefer. I understand that the emergency took place when the cruiser was in hypertransit?”

  “That is correct, Miss York,” Barngate answered.

  “Who brought the ship out of transit?” she asked.

  “I did.”

  “You?” York blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected him to freely admit any such thing.

  “In the Navy, the quartermaster often serves as an assistant to the navigator,” explained Barngate. “I've spent many years on the bridge and I'm nearly as familiar with the controls as I am with navigation. Many quartermaster chiefs are,” he added.

  “I wasn't aware of that.” She smiled pleasantly at him. “Was the situation so urgent that you had to take the Rigel out of hypertime? I'm wondering why you couldn't have simply proceeded to the Gorman system as scheduled.”

  “You can't launch a lander in transit, Miss York.”

  “The situation was that serious at the outset?” she asked.

  “Definitely.”

  “How did you happen to choose the Gelhart system, Chief?”

  “It was the closest,” explained Barngate.

  “And Bonoplane was the closest planet?”

  “The closest planet that was reasonably Terra-form, yes.” Barngate nodded. “Skyro was on the opposite leg of its orbit. This is standard protocol, Miss York.”

  “I understand from speaking with the Draco's navigator that it would have only been another six hours of transit time to reach your scheduled destination.”

  “We didn't have six hours, Miss York.”

  “Then it was quick?”

  “Very quick.” Barngate nodded. “I had to make a decision, and I made it. Perhaps if there'd been more time….”

  “I can appreciate that,” York said. “But what I can't understand is why the Quartermaster Chief was making those decisions. What are you, perhaps thirtieth in the normal change of command?”

  Barngate shrugged. “More like fortieth, Miss York. But that's what happened.”

  “What was the nature of the emergency, Chief?”

  “Gas. A deadly, fast-acting poison gas,” Barngate said without hesitation. “Which I've already told Captain Hull, Doctor Benbow, Captain Pedrattus, and anyone else who has been willing to listen.”

  “Yes, we'd worked that out, but it was good to have your confirmation. How was it able to infiltrate the entire ECS system before the various bulkheads were sealed off?”

  “I don't know. The entire ship was suddenly flooded,” Barngate explained. “It happened all at once.”

  “That sudden?” asked York.

  Barngate nodded. “It was distributed through the ECS system. It must have been, although later, when we went down there in suits and flushed the system, there was no sign of anything unusual there.”

  “What kind of gas was it?”

  “I have no idea.” Barngate turned, looking toward the maintence tech
. “You'll have to ask Hing Poy. He had the watch on the environmental system at the time.”

  “Mr. Poy?” York gazed at the lean, dark face.

  Hing Poy shook his head. “I wasn't on it at the time.”

  She raised her eyebrows. Even so, his relaxed admission didn't strike her as the sign of a guilty conscience.

  “Joe Peterson took the watch for me,” he said. “I was entered for the ship's Krabacci championship and was playing some practice games. We had an understanding with Chief Harifin. He didn't mind who took what watch, so long as we were covered.”

  “Krabacci?” York nodded. “I hear they have a player of note aboard Draco here. Singkai, he's one of the maintenance technicians. You might like to meet him.”

  Hing Poy smiled broadly. “I know of Lu Singkai, Miss York. Every Krabacci player in the fleet does. I would like very much to play him.”

  “Perhaps that can be arranged,” York said. “Now, what are the duties of the man on ECS watch?”

  “Just to check the system, take periodic readings and make certain everything's working. It's all heavily automated. There's seldom any trouble.”

  “That sounds easy enough,” York assented. “Who were you playing with, Hing?”

  “Lee Chun.” He gestured to the Kangan man sitting next to him.

  “Was anyone else present?”

  “Yes, sir. Wooten there.” He indicated a slender young man with a thin, pale face and receding hairline.

  “Wooten?”

  “George Wooten, communication technician, ma'am” Wooten answered in a clear, high-pitched voice. “I was there. They was playing Krabacci, just like they said.”

  “Thank you,” York acknowledged. He turned back to Hing Poy. “What kind of gas was it, Mr. Poy?”

  “I don't know. It was nothing I could identify.”

  “Then you don't store it?”

  “No, sir. We don't store nothing like that.”

  “Mr. Chun?” She switched her attention to the other krabacci player.

  “I have no idea, Miss York!”

  York turned to Captain Hull. “Do you know of any poisonous gas that a ship like the Rigel might store?”