Neogenesis

by Sharon Lee

Korval looked up into the branches and received the strong impression that three dragons occupied the court, and the Tree was well pleased with that circumstance.

  “Attend me,” Korval said, and they turned to her, faces respectful. “You will remove to the morning parlor, where the second test for legitimacy will be performed.”

  “Korval.”

  They bowed as one being and, with no further ado, departed the Tree Court as they had entered, proud and holding hands.

  * * * * *

  Val Con sat back and nodded at the screen. The judgments were complete. He was, on the whole, satisfied with the work. Of course, one could wish that there had been more time. Though, he admitted, if he had been granted an extra Surebleak week, he would be wishing for more time again, at the end of it.

  “Master Val Con, Captain Waitley has returned and requests a moment of your time.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Theo has grown mellow, indeed,” he observed.

  “Her request may have been phrased with somewhat more enthusiasm,” Jeeves admitted.

  Val Con grinned.

  “Please ask my sister Theo to join me here, and also ask Mr. pel’Kana to bring tea.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you, Jeeves.”

  * * *

  Theo arrived before tea, wind-blown and rosy from the chill.

  “Chandra Marudas is in port,” she said without preamble.

  “So the scanner revealed to me,” he said equitably. “Tell me, was it really necessary to embarrass the captain and his ship before all of Surebleak Port?”

  She stared at him.

  “Captain yos’Thadi mocked Bechimo and doubted that we could raise Surebleak in twelve days,” she said, as if it explained all. Which, Val Con supposed, it did.

  “I see. Well! That was very foolish of him. I trust he found your lesson instructive.”

  “Probably he didn’t,” Theo said frankly. “But maybe his first mate will take the point.”

  “Pardon me, Master Val Con, Captain Waitley,” Jeeves said. “A taxi has been called to pick up two passengers at the courier and quick ship yard. The pad number is that assigned to Chandra Marudas.”

  “Thank you, Jeeves,” Val Con said.

  Theo took a hard breath and fuffed her hair out of her eyes.

  There came a light knock at the door and Mr. pel’Kana arrived with tea.

  “Mrs. ana’Tak thought a plate of cookies would not go amiss,” he said setting the tray on the table by the window.

  “Thank you, Mr. pel’Kana,” Val Con said, “and Mrs. ana’Tak, too, for her care.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The door closed gently behind him.

  Val Con went to the table, picked up the pot and poured.

  Theo accepted the first cup and stood holding it in both hands, obviously on the edge of action.

  Val Con, his own cup in hand, recruited himself to patience.

  She hesitated only a moment longer before blurting, “Do you have enough information to make a judgment? Bechimo said you needed the records of his building. Is…” she paused, as if considering the point. “I don’t think Captain yos’Thadi’ll accept any judgment that goes against what he wants.”

  “Ah, but you see—he will have no choice. This meeting is not to seek his agreement—nor, indeed, your own. I have done my research and formed a field judgment, which I will file with the Scout Review Board. I should say, review boards. This meeting is a courtesy, to allow you to hear the judgment before it is filed. Because the review of field judgments has historically been in arrears, the procedure in non-urgent cases—and determining Bechimo’s correct status in regard to the Old Technology Archives is, forgive me, not particularly urgent—is that the field judgment will be enacted immediately, and remain in force until such time as it may be overturned by the review board.”

  “But,” Theo protested, “that means the only thing we’re doing is buying time! In a year, or, or six or whenever, this review board of yours might decide to reverse the decision!”

  “In some cases that would certainly be a danger, but not in the case of this particular judgment.”

  Theo eyed him.

  “Why not?”

  “Because we have verifiable documentation, much of which can be shared, without endangering Bechimo’s security. I speak of such things as the sign-offs on the completed construction from the project engineer and the yardmaster; the roster of investors and their buy-ins. These items are dated, and thereby neatly cancel Captain yos’Thadi’s arguments.

  “In the interest of thoroughness, Bechimo allowed Jeeves to perform a systems and energy scan this morning. The results of this scan are appended to the judgment. They prove the contention that Bechimo is an Old Tech ship to be…without substance.”

  Theo was standing stiffly, perhaps not so much reassured as he might have expected. Well, and it was not his ship at stake.

  Suddenly she blinked, and visibly relaxed. She had accessed a focus-and-calming exercise then, Val Con thought. Good.

  “Sounds like you have the first half pinned down,” she admitted. “But, Captain yos’Thadi said that Bechimo is an abomination, because of being a machine intelligence.” She paused, head to one side, as if considering a knotty question.

  “It’s hard to know which made him madder—Old Tech or AI.”

  “That is why I have also made an accompanying judgment with regard to independent logics. The essence is that, if a Free Logic which is not provably an artifact of the Old Technology is employed or performing other work judged to be of benefit or meaningful to the local society, or if said logic is an acknowledged member of a kin group or family, that logic is a free person, with all the rights accorded to free persons, also defined locally.”

  She frowned at him.

  “Will that work? I mean, the Complex Logic Laws…”

  “The Complex Logic Laws have not been rigorously tested since their inception. It has simply been accepted as an article of faith that machine intelligences do not have the best interest of humankind at core. That such persons would murder organic intelligences out of hand, so to speak. Understand that the laws, such as they are, were put into place because of fear and exaggerations that had traveled forward from a war fought—long ago. There is no factual base to support them. Indeed, if the framers had taken only a moment to consider, they would have realized that the relationship between free logic and humankind is symbiotic and not at all competitive.”

  He moved his shoulders, casting off that old argument.

  “This judgment will be the first real test of the Complex Logic Laws as they are written,” he finished.

  “So, it’ll go to court and be struck down, and all that is, is another delaying action.”

  “Perhaps. But recall that the terms of a field judgment go into effect immediately—and that the review boards are backed up.”

  “But it’s so broad!” Theo protested. “All we need to do—here and now—is…is certify that Bechimo’s not a danger.”

  “I understand your concerns. However, Joyita informs me that the good Scout archivist knows him as a voice on comm. It is only a matter of time before yos’Thadi or someone like him will make a connection, Bechimo or Joyita will make an error, or something equally unfortunate will occur. I would much rather be proactive in this matter, and not only because I do not wish to be interrupted again in a year or two to provide another judgment. You do not wish to risk that the Scouts, in the next few years, will have decided to dismiss me from their ranks.”

  “Joyita told you he was an AI?” Theo sounded more resigned than displeased, Val Con thought.

  “He did not rush headlong to share his nature. My curiosity woke when you said he would be staying with the ship. I forced the point when I was aboard, while Bechimo was seeking your permission to give me access to the items under Captain’s Seal.”

  He moved his shoulders.

  “Joyita and I had a pleasant conversatio
n, which illuminated the need for a field judgment regarding all independent logics. The fact that Captain yos’Thadi has stated that Bechimo is both Old Tech and a machine intelligence provides a unique opportunity.”

  Theo shook her head.

  “You do realize…if the employed or part of a kin-group test becomes standard…that’ll change—a lot. No, it’ll change everything.”

  “Life is change. Or so Miri informs me.”

  Theo was still frowning.

  “There’d have to be a registry—a census—so people like Captain yos’Thadi can’t just be confiscating whoever they want…”

  Good, thought Val Con, she’s already working out how to organize the changes.

  “The cab from Chandra Marudas is on the Port Road,” Jeeves murmured. “I am informed that the passengers are Captain yos’Thadi and First Mate Menolly vas’Anamac.”

  Theo stirred.

  “Was that Joyita’s info, Jeeves?”

  “Yes, Captain Waitley.”

  She slid a sideways look to Val Con.

  “Got a way with the comm lines, does Joyita,” she said.

  He inclined his head gravely.

  After a moment, Theo spoke again.

  “Jeeves, would you please ask Exec O’Berin to join us for the reading of the judgments? Also”—another quick look into his face—“would it be possible to arrange a live feed for my crew?”

  “Jeeves will be recording. It will be a simple matter to share the feed. Do I presume, Jeeves?”

  “Not at all, Master Val Con. I will alert Captain Waitley’s crew of the upcoming meeting and inform them that they may watch in real time from the screen in the Southern Suite common room.”

  “Thank you, Jeeves,” Theo said.

  “It is my pleasure to serve, Captain Waitley.”

  She blinked. “Did I do something to make Jeeves mad at me?”

  “Nothing that I am aware of,” Val Con answered. “Jeeves does occasionally display a sense of humor. If you are concerned that you’ve offended him, you might ask—when you are private, of course.”

  “Right.”

  She sighed and raised her cup, apparently looking out the window at the inner garden. Val Con took the opportunity to savor his own tea, allowing the peppermint to present itself.

  He sighed.

  “It is well chosen,” he murmured.

  Theo started slightly, and sipped again.

  “Yes,” she agreed, “it is.”

  She seemed to have surrendered another level of tension, Val Con thought, or perhaps that was the tea doing its work. He dared his next question.

  “I do not wish to pry into your personal affairs, but I wonder if you might clarify your relationship with Bechimo. Are you lifemated?”

  Theo stared at him.

  “Lifemated?” she repeated, plainly shocked. “No, we’re bonded—captain and ship. Bechimo was always meant to have a bonded captain; somebody to access the information under the Captain’s key, and to provide…a balance, I guess you’d say. He doesn’t always get social cues, even now, and he tends to think jokes are completely serious. So, see, I’m—the humanizing half of the partnership.”

  She looked at him self-consciously.

  “The crew helps with that, because we all know that I don’t always get social cues myself. Though I know when I’m being told a joke. Usually.”

  “Your pardon, Master Val Con, Captain Waitley,” Jeeves said. “The taxicab bearing Captain yos’Thadi’s party is approaching the gate.”

  “Thank you, Jeeves. Mr. pel’Kana may bring the captain and his mate to us immediately.”

  “Yes.”

  Theo put her cup down on the tray.

  “This’ll work,” she said, not quite a question.

  Val Con bowed slightly.

  “This will work,” he said with firm confidence.

  A knock preceded the entrance of Mr. pel’Kana, Clarence in his wake.

  “Captain,” he said, nodding to Theo, then to Val Con, “Pilot.”

  “Clarence.” Theo turned to him. “Captain yos’Thadi has his first mate as backup…”

  He nodded. “And now so do you, leaving it plain as plain that Scout Commander yos’Phelium here is all impartial and everything is just like it ought to be.”

  “Exactly,” Val Con said and looked again to Theo.

  “There remains the matter of the meeting’s language. Four of us have native fluency in High Liaden. However, the melant’i of the meeting is that it must be conducted in such a way that all attendees will have equal understanding of the proceedings. As Captain yos’Thadi and his mate are Scouts, their comprehension in standard Terran ought to be very good. If that proves not to be the case, I believe that we are all fluent in Trade—”

  “We do the meeting in Liaden,” Theo interrupted flatly.

  Val Con raised an eyebrow.

  “Are you certain?”

  She tipped her chin up and looked down her nose at him. It was not a bad effort, but scarcely quelling to one who had been raised serially by Daav yos’Phelium and Er Thom yos’Galan, both of whom had been masters of the form.

  “I’ll lose points with the rest of the real people if I can’t keep up, won’t I?” she demanded.

  Val Con looked over her head to Clarence, who blew out a hard breath.

  “Given the laddie’s past behaviors, he’s likely to think you…of lesser importance, if you don’t speak a civilized tongue—but that’s his melant’i, Theo, not yours.”

  She threw him a look that was equal parts irritated and baffled.

  “You are the keeper of your melant’i, no one else,” Val Con told her. “And I believe that your melant’i stands in no peril from Captain yos’Thadi.”

  She stared at him, and he could very nearly feel the force of her thoughts before she jerked her chin down in a nod.

  “Got it,” she said. “We’ll do the meeting in Liaden.”

  “Then that,” Val Con said in High Liaden, in the mode of authority-to-petitioner, “is what we shall do.”

  * * * * *

  The Delm’s Word had brought them to the morning parlor, where Ren Zel and Anthora were to examine Daav yos’Phelium and Aelliana Caylon, newly returned to the clan in circumstances that must make such an examination of primary importance.

  Anthora and he had gained a certain skill in such examinations, during their work with the agents Korval had taken captive.

  The work that had triggered his addiction.

  Ren Zel sighed lightly. Here was seen the folly of reserving his situation from the delm’s attention, though he could not be certain that, even knowing of it, Korval would have held shy of laying the present task upon them. It was the delm’s part to husband the resources of the clan, and to spend what was necessary, for the greater good of all.

  Anthora turned from the window.

  “Are you well, Beloved?” she asked, though she surely knew the answer as well as he.

  “Well enough. Merely reflecting upon the folly of concealment.”

  “Yes, we ought to have made a clean breast long ago,” she said with unwonted seriousness. “Though we cannot suppose that the delm—”

  “Daav yos’Phelium and Aelliana Caylon are approaching the morning parlor,” Jeeves said quietly.

  “Thank you,” Ren Zel replied.

  Anthora stepped to his side, and together they turned toward the door.

  A murmur of voices was heard in the hallway, and the sound of light footsteps. The doorway was briefly shadowed, and two pilots entered.

  The first pilot was young to wear the Jump jacket, her pale hair short and her eyes brilliantly green. She was of slender build and average height, which made her noticeably shorter than her companion.

  Ren Zel had not known Aelliana Caylon during her first life, but he had known Daav yos’Phelium before the delm had dispatched him to accomplish an urgent mission. At that time, Daav yos’Phelium had been an elder, with dark hair giving way to silver, and the lines
of living upon his face. He had been fit—even very fit—for a pilot of his years, but he would not have been mistaken for a youth.

  The Daav yos’Phelium who followed his lifemate into the room was young, slim, and very fit indeed. His hair was black, his face smooth. Ren Zel had read the information the delm had shared with them; he knew the circumstances at which they had arrived, and yet—

  “I agree,” the fierce young pilot said, in Daav yos’Phelium’s voice. “It is scarcely fitting, and altogether an insult.”

  He smiled—a familiar smile, edged as it was with irony. “Indeed, had the whole farce not returned my lifemate, I might well have made an end.”

  Ren Zel raised his hands, smiling.

  “I was forewarned,” he said ruefully. “But to see you…”

  “You need explain no further,” Daav assured him, turning his attention to Anthora.

  “Well, child?”

  “It would seem so,” she answered promptly. “To my Sight, you are, indeed, Daav yos’Phelium; your aura, now, matches your aura, then.”

  She turned to the other and bowed.

  “Aunt Aelliana, for you I have no baseline.”

  “Indeed, it was very wrong of me to have died before we had a chance to form an acquaintance,” Aelliana Caylon said lightly. She glanced aside and caught his eye.

  “Is this Ren Zel? The delm requires too much of you, child; you are worn.”

  “I am,” he answered, “but we must not chide the delm for what is my own folly.”

  She raised her eyebrows, but merely murmured, “Just so,” before turning back to Anthora.

  “How shall we solve the puzzle of me, Niece? For I do not hide from you that I am the weakest link. Even with the Tree’s kind intervention, it cannot be denied that I am wholly the Uncle’s creature, mixed in his stewpot, and set out to life. If tampering was done—if any tampering was done—I cannot know it.”

  “The delm,” Ren Zel said, “requires us to perform something more comprehensive than the pattern match which Anthora has completed for Daav. It is a technique we perfected some months ago.”

  “This requires both of you?” Daav asked.

  Anthora nodded.

  “First one, and then the other, I shall hold you in trance, while Ren Zel opens his particular Sight and regards you in the light of a higher level. If there is anything broken or, or ill-made, he will See it.”