Vigilante

by Laura E. Reeve

  Tahir watched the central tableau of three people with trepidation. Abram didn’t consider women useful for anything but reproduction, and Emery followed him in his disdain for “breeders.” Dr. Lee was too old to carry a child, and if she proved to have too much backbone and resisted Abram’s plans, she might go the way of Captain Zabat and Commander Charlene.

  Abram didn’t look offended—yet. He cocked his head and asked, “What do you know, Dr. Lee Pilgrimage, about the Minoan attack at Enclave El Tozeur on New Sousse?”

  The woman nodded with a resigned expression, as if she both expected and dreaded this topic. “I was finishing my term at headquarters, so that was some time around ’seventy-five. Someone managed to sabotage a Minoan ship so badly that it was destroyed, and Qesan Douchet foolishly—”

  “You’re speaking of my uncle, woman!” Emery leaned forward, but stopped when Abram put up a restraining hand.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, young man.” Lee’s voice was considerate, but underlying her sounds of sympathy was the cold hardness of marble. “Regardless of who performed the sabotage, your uncle was imprudent to claim credit in such a public display. Take heart that your people now stand as an example for everyone: The Minoans play for keeps.”

  Lee shook her head and added, “Their genetically targeted bioweapons were—and still are—beyond our science or engineering. I remember looking at the initial reports in disbelief. How could their bioweapons work so specifically, and how could they make alterations in place, affecting current DNA organization? When Pilgrimage headquarters sent aid to the survivors—”

  “That’s a lie!” Emery raised his voice. “No one helped us, old woman. No one cared!”

  “I beg your pardon,” she snapped, her eyes glinting, “but I personally signed the transfer and ensured it was delivered to the Acting Elder at Enclave El Tozeur! Pilgrimage took pride in matching the Voyage relief donation of fifty thousand Hellas Kilodrachmas, and back then, young man, that was a substantial amount of money.”

  It certainly was. Tahir stood up straight from the shock, feeling a bit woozy. He saw Emery was laboring under the same feelings, working his mouth and probably wanting to call Lee Pilgrimage a liar. But she has no reason to lie.

  The tribal elders told Tahir and Emery, all their lives, the outside world never noticed their plight. Once Tahir was off New Sousse, he realized that the rest of the Terran Expansion League considered Qesan Douchet a ridiculous, if slightly tragic, figure. The Enclave and tribe seemed mysteriously forgotten, and the Minoan attack was rarely a subject for casual discussion among Terrans. When Tahir made his infrequent trips back home, the tribe’s poverty was heart-breaking and he was shamed by Abram’s chid ings to do better in his studies. After all, the tribe was suffering to pay for his schooling.

  Abram surely knew about the donations. If only two ship lines had donated one hundred thousand HKD to survivors of the attack, then how much more relief money must have come in? Where had it gone? The elders had certainly never used it to make anyone’s life easier, to take the tribe members from scrabbling in the dirt to clean houses and workplaces. We could have built hospitals, started industries. . . .

  Emery was also staring at Abram with surprise and puzzlement, but Abram sat unmoved, focusing on Lee.

  “We didn’t need money.” Abram’s voice was flat. “We needed allies with weapons, with the strength and fortitude to help us retaliate and regain our pride.”

  Emery nodded slowly, but Tahir noted his hesitancy. Dr. Lee, however, was looking at Abram as if he were speaking a foreign language.

  “If our money bought us this, then I am convinced that good deeds are punished.” Lee gestured, with bewilderment, toward the bloodstains. “But St. Darius compels us to give help to the wayfarer in need and you might have gotten our help by asking. Did you think of that? You do need our help, don’t you?”

  Abram cocked his head again and Tahir wondered if Lee had pushed him too far.

  “I think a test is in order, Doctor,” Abram said. “Tahir, come stand beside me, on the other side from Emery.”

  Tahir’s heart sank as he moved to stand beside the chair. In his experience, Abram’s tests often involved somebody dying. So far, Tahir had avoided taking any lives and he didn’t think he could kill Dr. Lee.

  “These two young men are both related to me.” Abram gestured to Tahir and Emery. “One is my nephew, who was present during the attack. The other is my son, who was in the womb during the attack. Which young man carries my genes, Doctor?”

  Tahir’s chest tightened. The three of them looked alike, regardless of what their genes indicated. It was a trick question and he dreaded whatever the penalty would be for him, Emery, or Dr. Lee, if she answered incorrectly.

  Dr. Lee folded her arms and stared down her nose at Tahir, then Emery. “Perhaps you’re not aware of this, Mr. New Commander, but little of the human genome is responsible for appearance. The color of our hair, eyes, and skin makes us different by a negligent blip in the sequences.”

  “You may take DNA samples, if you wish,” Abram said, to Tahir’s surprise.

  “I don’t need samples,” Dr. Lee said with confidence. She pointed at Tahir. “That is your son, but his DNA cannot prove it.”

  Tahir looked at Abram and Emery, whose face was darkening. Emery had probably taken the “son of Abram’s spirit” talk a little too seriously. Tahir anxiously tried to read Abram’s response. Did Dr. Lee provide the answer he wanted?

  “Congratulations, Dr. Lee. You understand the effects of the Minoan weapons. You must also know why I require your full cooperation and best efforts of your staff.” Abram’s colorless voice made Tahir flinch. The more emotionless Abram’s voice, the more dangerous he became.

  “Now you prefer allies with medical technology above those with weapons.” Lee’s voice, unwisely, held sharp sarcasm.

  “I have all the weapons I need,” Abram said indifferently. “Now I must have sons—and your children will be forfeit if you can’t find a way to give me mine.”

  Lee’s face went slack. She knew Abram was threatening the crèches and that was her key. Abram said everyone had a key, by which he or she could be unlocked. Manipulated. Threatened. Lee bit her lower lip.

  “It might not be possible to reverse the effects of the Minoan weapons,” she said.

  “I’m surprised that you, as a renowned scientist and doctor, would jump to conclusions. Tell me what you need to give me sons.”

  There was a pause as she looked at Abram’s face for a moment. She looked away and crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders hunching.

  “First, we’ll need samples from you and all your peop—your men.” She’d noticed the consistent gender of Abram’s followers.

  “I’ll send in everyone who’s closely related to me. You can go now, Doctor.”

  She turned to go, and stopped. “Do you like music, Mr. Rouxe?”

  “No. It’s distracting,” Abram said.

  “Pity. However, it’s—it’s necessary for me and my laboratory.” At Abram’s quizzical look, she added, “I’d like access to my music library.”

  “That can be arranged, in exchange for information. I’d like to know who was in the module that separated from the ship, the one above your laboratory.”

  Lee’s face was blank as she said, “David Ray, the ship’s general counsel, and a visiting prospector. I can’t remember his name, but he should be on the ship’s visitor register.”

  “Will you need any equipment that was in that module?” Abram watched her face carefully.

  Tahir tensed up. Don’t lie—he always knows the answers before he asks.

  “No.” Lee cleared her throat. “There’s no critical equipment in that module.”

  Abram seemed satisfied by her answer and told Tahir to release her music library, after examining it to ensure that it only held music, of course. He ordered Tahir to escort Dr. Lee off the control deck.

  Tahir walked behind Lee to the vert
ical airlock, grateful that she hadn’t done anything that would have given Abram or Emery a reason to kill her. She seemed cowed, so he was surprised when she quickly turned to him behind the edge of the airlock, where Abram couldn’t see her.

  “Tahir, your genes don’t determine your fate,” she whispered.

  Then she went down the ladder and out of his sight. Tahir jerked around to see if Abram had noticed the pause, but Abram was deep in decisions and conversations. By the time Tahir walked back, he’d learned the unfortunate escape of Module 2098 was irrelevant and Abram didn’t want to waste any resources on retrieving it. Abram was leaving Rand in charge of the team on the Pilgrimage, with orders to continue with the original plan. This left Rand with plenty to do, including moving the Pilgrimage.

  Tahir could see this didn’t sit well with Emery, who had vocally hoped to command the team on the Pilgrimage. Emery probably thought this was punishment for destroying the shrine to St. Darius. Abram, however, was being logical. Rand was a better negotiator than Emery, and they needed cooperation from the crèche-get.

  “You’ll go with me to Beta Priamos to prepare a ship for Tahir’s gift,” Abram was saying to Emery. “By the time we get there, everything on Priamos should be under control.”

  Under quickly diminishing gee, Matt dosed David Ray with pain meds and antibiotics. After the poor man was under, he tried his best to treat the mangled leg with what was available in the emergency first aid kit. A few flechettes remained deep inside the leg muscle and Matt didn’t know how to remove them.

  Then he had to assess their situation. The emergency training drilled into every generational crew member had several steps, the first being “Inventory and identify your resources.” Inventory what? He looked about a module designed for one purpose: helping men donate sperm samples. There were three privacy booths against one side. The furnishings and fittings looked like any quiet men’s club that Matt had encountered, with the exception of the monochromatic decorating that the generational favored. Everything was in shades of burgundy.

  Too bad I can’t hurl hard porn as a weapon, and it’s a shame—contrary to how Nestor lived—that one can’t survive on porn alone. If so, he and David Ray would be set up for months.

  “Wha’s happening? They comin’ after us?” David Ray woke up a few hours later, still webbed to the floor and under the influence of every drug Matt thought might be useful.

  “No, it’s worse. They’re going to let us die.” Matt helped David Ray sit upright and lean his back against the bar.

  “Tha’s alright w’ me.” He gave Matt a lopsided grin.

  “Maybe we ought to ease up on your medication.”

  “Wha?” David Ray began to examine his leg, wincing as his fingers poked the plastiskin.

  “Unfortunately, I couldn’t get all those things out of your leg. We don’t have a med-scanner.”

  “Might be poisoned,” David Ray said.

  “Poisoned?” Matt looked up from the bar inventory. “They’ve broken both Autonomist and Terran law by using flechette weapons on a space habitat. For all I know, they’ve violated the Phaistos Protocols as well. Would they go even further, with poisoned rounds, and take a chance at pissing off the Minoans?”

  “You think these people are afraid of the Minoans?” David Ray’s smile was grim. “Did you recognize the name ‘Qesan Douchet’?”

  “Vaguely. Learned something about him in the orphanage.” Matt was busy going through inventories and checking the location of items. “Ran an isolationist cult on New Sousse, right? He managed to blow up a Minoan ship, somehow, so they killed him and slapped the cult around. I think that was before my time.”

  “It was about thirty UT years ago, while you were on the Journey IV. Qesan’s tribe was brutally misogynistic; women were ‘put down’ if they couldn’t produce sons—although they apparently did it humanely.”

  This shocked Matt out of his inventory. Having spent his childhood and early teen years on a generational ship, then living as a generational orphan on an Autonomist world, he had a hard time imagining such a society. David Ray had to be exaggerating. “New Sousse was TerranXL. Couldn’t anyone stop that? Couldn’t the women escape?”

  “The cult didn’t even control their planet, which was some meaningless asset under Overlord Six. If Six ignored the situation, it might go away—remember this was happening during the war. I think the League washed their hands of the isolationists.”

  “What if a male in the cult couldn’t produce sons?”

  “By definition, that couldn’t happen. Until, that is, the Minoan attack.” David Ray chuckled dryly. “The Minoans couldn’t have created a better punishment for men whose lives were measured by the number of their sons. For a while, they wouldn’t even believe they were sterile. They rejected the studies done by the relief medics, at least initially. Idiots.”

  “Idiots with weapons, who now control the Pilgrimage,” Matt pointed out. “Who have realized, quite rightly, that they don’t have to do anything but wait for us to die.”

  “Well, they won’t reward us for coming back; I figure we’ll be dead as soon as we open the airlock. So, let’s run the checklists.” David Ray shook his head and appeared attentive, but with obvious effort. “I assume you’re finished with inventory. What’s our situation?”

  “We have a week of life support, looking at air reserve tanks, water, and power. I’ve got the collectors oriented toward the sun and the batteries are working correctly, but after we use up the air in the reserve tanks, battery power won’t be able to create oxygen as well as maintain other life-support functions. We’ll go downhill, either by freezing or oxygen deprivation. Unluckily for us, it won’t happen fast enough to be painless.”

  “Sounds about right,” David Ray said. “Module-operating mode was never intended for long-term life support. What other resources have we got?”

  “We’ve got the emergency med kit, which can mend bones and minor wounds, but surgery is out. It’s got a good amount of pain medication. We have insulated survival gear and two-hour oxygen masks for four people, but nothing for EVA. We’ve got three days’ emergency rations, plus about fifty snack packs intended for donors. We’ve also got the best equipped bar in the entire system, with a wide selection of Terran brandies, Hellas-made scotch, smooth, and more than a thousand pornographic v-plays and videos. That leads me to the”—Matt scratched his head and didn’t know whether to laugh or curse—“two freezers, each containing about four hundred samples of sperm.”

  “You forgot the useless lawyer with one leg.”

  Matt shook his head. “Those freezer units suck battery power. If I shut them off—”

  “You can’t do that. Those samples are our future generations.” David Ray leaned forward, causing himself to move his wounded leg and wince.

  “Your eggs are stored elsewhere, and this isn’t the entire Pilgrimage sperm bank.”

  “The freezers will be in sunlight, no matter how we orient the solar collectors. Without power, they’ll fry,” David Ray said. “And that’s enough sperm to account for one third of Pilgrimage genetic diversity, and you know how necessary that is. Absorbing such a loss would be tough for our entire line. Anyway, you said the batteries can’t maintain oxygen creation once we use up the reserve tanks.”

  “But if we shut the freezers down now, it could mean a few more hours at the end of our week.”

  “No.” David Ray shut his eyes, finality in his tone.

  Matt stared at the wounded man, wondering whether he’d stepped over the line of sanity.

  David Ray opened his eyes. “We can’t worry about a few hours here and there. We have to start figuring out what these isolationists want, particularly from the Pilgrimage.”

  “What does it matter? They’re making demands right now to CAW or TerraXL or Pilgrimage HQ, perhaps ransoming the ship for money. Maybe they want a planet of their own.” Matt pushed and floated in the low gee to the other side of the module. He called up the environm
ental display, just checking, to quiet his nerves. “Really, David Ray, you’re going to lose the samples eventually.”

  “Let’s table that subject for right now. Please. Can we see what’s happening with the ship?”

  Matt sighed, but didn’t pursue the topic any more. “We have limited cam-eye feeds and nothing more. We can maneuver so we can view the ship. Remember, however, that the maneuvering jets use our air.”

  They both looked at the Pilgrimage III, which filled the display. It was still huge and beautiful, but no longer a comforting haven. Matt felt pain in his chest as he thought of it held hostage, and the crew abused, by the man whose voice was cold and heartless. If I could only help them. His jaw clenched and he balled up his fists at his helplessness.

  “Let’s talk about the proverbial elephant in the room. We have to get these flechettes out of my leg.” David Ray sounded tired.

  “I told you we don’t have surgery support.”

  “We’ll have to do it ourselves. Or rather, you’ll have to do it manually, if you prefer that term.” David Ray smiled weakly when Matt turned around to look at him. “You said there’s lots of liquor and meds.”

  Matt swallowed, trying to loosen his throat.

  CHAPTER 10

  Most ComNet users use natural language interfaces to query AI models, providing loose specifications as well as limiting themselves to indexed information. There are ways to have Democritus models, in particular, explore unindexed material. This becomes necessary as the amount of garbage grows exponentially and masquerades as data.

  —Unindexed Searches under Democritus Rulesets,

  AFCAW Captain Doreen Floros, 2103.022.08.09 UT,

  indexed by Democritus 21 under

  Cause and Effect Imperative

  Tahir caught up with Abram in a corridor on the Pilgrimage and started the conversation on a pretext, expressing concern about the container used for their package, a container that had to shield the exotic material.