Neogenesis

by Sharon Lee

  “And if such an ill-made nuance is detected?” Daav asked, looking at his lifemate.

  “We are to report our observations to the delm,” Ren Zel said gently, having seen the love and distress in that glance. “What happens after…”

  “Is the delm’s to see done,” Aelliana finished and smiled at him. “We understand.”

  She looked to Anthora.

  “How shall I arrange myself? If I am to be entranced, I warn you that I may fall down.”

  Anthora smiled.

  “I would not allow that, but it may be more comfortable for all, if you would sit just here, on the window seat.”

  She extended a hand, and Aelliana willingly took it, allowing herself to be guided to the window and seated on the cushion.

  “That is very well,” Anthora murmured, her voice smoky and slow. “Now, merely close your eyes, lean back, let the wall support you, and—go to sleep, Aelliana!”

  Ren Zel opened his eyes and looked upon the cosmos, the music of the strands filling his ears. It seemed to him that the music was…somewhat thinner, and the strands that tied all and everything together somewhat were…tarnished.

  He would have spared an instant or forever to investigate had Anthora’s concern not come to him, riding the line that moored them together, and recalled him to the reason he was here.

  Aelliana Caylon blazed against the ether, so brilliant that there was a nimbus of paler light around her. He found no break, no taint of darkness in her, only a luminous, joyful wholeness. Her life’s lines were longer than her body’s years; her experience continuous and unsullied. There was none there but Aelliana Caylon, flawless and unsullied.

  He felt Anthora receive his observations, closed his eyes upon glory, and opened them again to the mundane.

  Aelliana had already returned to herself. Smiling, she patted the cushion next to her.

  “Don’t look so black, van’chela,” she said to Daav yos’Phelium, standing behind Anthora’s shoulder. “I am wonderfully well and entirely myself.” She glanced to Ren Zel. “Is that so, dramliza?”

  “It is so,” he answered, with a slight nod to reinforce her surety.

  Anthora smiled and stepped back.

  “Come, Uncle Daav, sit by your lifemate and put all worry and contention from your mind,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow, but sat down meekly enough and settled his shoulders against the window.

  “You may dispense with the misdirection,” he told Anthora pleasantly. “Behold me, closing my eyes.”

  “Very well done,” she said solemnly. “Daav, go to sleep!”

  Ren Zel took a breath, opened his other eyes in that perfect place of harmony, and was immediately confronted with the banked fire that was Daav yos’Phelium’s life and soul.

  Had he not been at one with the universe, Ren Zel might have been alarmed to be confronted by so dark and dense a core upon which vivid flamelets danced, not so much the opposite of his lifemate’s shining, as an anchor to her exuberance.

  The darkness was all of a piece; there had been no tampering, no breakage, no prising at the integrity of the structure. One life, and echoes of his lifemate shot through it.

  He felt Anthora receive his assurance, and this time, he resisted her worry. Instead, he opened his eyes, looking wide across the universe and the golden lines that tied all and everything into one…dimmer, yes, absolutely dimmer, and the song of life was subdued. He stretched his senses wider, finding some strands almost extinguished beneath drifts of dust and charred bits of golden.

  He moved his attention, seeking it now…the Shadow, finding it looming larger than it had, and a sense that it had grown—that it was growing!—and—

  Anthora’s concern shattered his concentration. He spared a thought for the mooring line—and another, when it did not break at the touch of his will.

  Startled, he brought his attention to the line that bound them together. It, too, had grown, thickened, strengthened, wound about itself vinelike, or rootlike.

  Gained weight.

  Anthora was becoming agitated, which would not do at all.

  Ren Zel closed his eyes and descended once more to the mundane.

  VI

  “Scout Captain Ing Vie yos’Thadi, archivist in charge of hazardous and contraband technology.”

  Captain yos’Thadi’s posture was upright, perhaps a little stiff. Certainly, his bow was stiff and the least conciliatory of the several choices available to him. Still, Val Con thought, one very seldom saw expert-to-higher-ranked-generalist, so he supposed he should be grateful to the captain for a moment of novelty.

  He inclined his head in response, which was granted to his superior rank, but was not exactly conciliatory, either, and looked to the other Scout.

  “Scout Lieutenant Menolly vas’Anamac, Healer and first mate aboard Chandra Marudas.”

  Scout vas’Anamac was far less stiff than her captain, and her bow, while not necessarily conciliatory, was at least not an open declaration of war.

  Val Con rewarded her with a bow of elder to junior from his place behind the desk.

  “I am Scout Commander Val Con yos’Phelium,” he said. “I have been called upon by Theo Waitley, captain of the ship Bechimo, to render a judgment regarding the assertion made by Captain yos’Thadi in pursuit of his duty, from the melant’i of a Scout archivist and expert, that the ship Bechimo is: one, created wholly or substantially of Old Technology, and two, that the ship Bechimo is motivated by a machine intelligence. I have accepted this call upon my expertise, and I have rendered judgment on both of these items.”

  He bowed to the room at large—Theo and Clarence standing before their chairs to the right of his desk; Captain yos’Thadi and Scout vas’Anamac in front of their chairs to the left—and sat down.

  Theo and yos’Thadi sat down, then Clarence and Scout vas’Anamac.

  “On the matter of the ship Bechimo’s pedigree,” he began, “there is no evidence that the ship is constructed of Old Technology components, in whole or in part. This is substantiated along several lines.

  “Firstly, a comprehensive systems and energy scan of the ship Bechimo, performed this morning by Korval house security, detects no traces of timonium leakage, which is a defining feature of Old Tech systems. All energy scans are clean; systems check out at one hundred twenty percent efficiency.

  “Secondly, I have copies of the build orders, plans, and other documents relating to Bechimo’s construction and maintenance. I have the sign-offs from the yard manager where Bechimo was built—a Carresens yard. I have a list of the investors, including the amount each contributed to the project.

  “Each of these documents bears a date, and from these dates, one learns that Bechimo is the first ship built in answer to Trader Jethri Gobelyn’s release of the Envidaria. This was a pivotal event. Not only did it force the merger of the two premier trading families of the time—the Carresens and the Denoblis—but it forced an entire revisioning of how trade would be conducted going forward.

  “Because of the changing conditions within trade space, and the necessity to build not only new routes but new kinds of routes, the architects of the ship Bechimo understood that they would also require a new kind of ship. They envisioned those ships constructed to answer the new conditions as full partners in trade. The concept for this new kind of ship borrowed freely from old designs, but the ship itself would be—was—built from modern materials. The final design was a bold step in a previously unexplored direction. Theoretical and barely tried techniques and technologies were incorporated into the design, producing a ship the like of which had not been seen before—and very rarely since.”

  He surveyed his audience, noting that yos’Thadi looked more sour than one might wish, though not any more sour than one had expected.

  “My judgment, therefore, is that the ship Bechimo is provably of modern build and design, utilizing no elements of any technology originating in the old universe.”

  yos’Thadi shifted i
n his chair and, against proper protocol, spoke.

  “With all respect, Scout Commander, this evidence would seem to indicate that the ship Bechimo is, in fact, an independent intelligence and therefore subject to confiscation as an illegal entity.”

  “You anticipate my next topic,” Val Con told him.

  He paused, and it was well that he did, for at that instant there, a veritable lightning bolt flashed from the very heart of the song and sense of Miri that was always at the edge of his consciousness.

  Like lightning, it vanished quickly, leaving a sense of satisfaction in its wake.

  That was well, then, he told himself; there was no danger if she was so very satisfied with the outcome. He took a breath, looked at each of the four participants one at a time, and glanced back at his notes.

  “I have based my second judgment on the expert opinion published by Scout Commander Ivdra sen’Lora regarding the independent intelligence Jeeves, which finding was finally upheld by the Scout Review Board.

  “In rendering her judgment, Scout Commander sen’Lora created precedent. She administered the personality, socialization, and enculteration surveys that had been developed and standardized by the Scouts, and which are routinely utilized as field tests in new societies. This comprehensive testing determined that Jeeves was a rational and fully integrated personality, with needs and purpose.

  “She found that by the acts of negotiating for his own best interest and having taken gainful employment, Jeeves had removed himself from the pool of the dangerous and the indigent, which the Complex Logic Laws were created to hold in check. The act of accepting the constraints of society and taking up responsibility was the mark, stated Scout Commander sen’Lora, of a mature and self-directed individual, whatever form that individual might take.”

  He glanced around at his auditors again, and chose to address his next remark to Theo, who was least likely to understand the full force of the precedents that had been put into place.

  “In basing her judgment firmly upon accepted and widely used Scout protocols, Scout Commander sen’Lora in fact gave us a valid system for determining personhood. Bechimo has clearly demonstrated a commitment to his duty and his crew which would be the envy of many a captain. And, again, the review board upheld her judgment regarding Jeeves, some years after her field determination.”

  He paused and inclined his head to Captain yos’Thadi.

  “Scout Commander sen’Lora made her judgment for a single individual. My judgment merely expands upon hers and takes the next logical step.

  “I find, therefore, that any Independent Intelligent Logic who is an active member of society—who is employed or is an acknowledged member of a kin-group—shall be accorded the same rights as any other free person of their society.”

  He looked directly into yos’Thadi’s eyes.

  “Such persons, of course, are not subject to confiscation, imprisonment, or dismantling.”

  He sat back and put his palms flat on the desktop.

  “I am finished. Discussion may go forth. Does anyone wish to speak?”

  “I will,” yos’Thadi said, his voice brittle in the mode of expert, “bring a formal protest before Scout Administration. This is clearly a partisan judgment.”

  He used his chin to point at Theo.

  “Not only is Captain Waitley of the ship Bechimo blood kin to the adjudicator, but she had been employed by the Uncle.”

  Val Con heard Theo’s gasp, and out of the side of his eye saw Clarence put a light hand on her wrist, as yos’Thadi turned back to the desk.

  His glare was, Val Con thought, angry—a hunter robbed of his prey, as opposed to an expert shown the error of his method.

  “I suppose it is mere happenstance that Vivulonj Prosperu—the Uncle’s personal vessel!—is on Surebleak port as we speak?”

  Val Con raised his eyebrows.

  “It is an open port. If you wish to complain of a ship at dock, you must seek the portmaster.”

  Theo rose and bowed honor-to-authority.

  “May I make an answer, Captain yos’Thadi?” she asked, very calmly, indeed, “on the topic of my past employment?”

  “Certainly.”

  She turned, muscles relaxed, stance confident, in what must be seen as a direct contradiction to yos’Thadi’s attitude of the thwarted hunter.

  “I was employed by Crystal Energy Systems as a courier pilot,” she said. “In that, you are correct. You seem to indicate that this was an error of judgment so vast that all of my future actions must be tainted by it. I therefore wonder what I am to think of a Scout archivist who sought benefit from the Uncle and surrendered a comrade to the care of suspect, if not factually illicit, machinery?”

  yos’Thadi pulled himself up and attempted to look down at her—not a credible attempt at all. One would hope that a Scout might do better, Val Con thought. But, there, the man was out of temper.

  “You are to think that the Scout archivist was in pursuit of his duty and seeking to preserve, by any means possible, a link to a dangerous vessel which, left uncaptured, might well endanger worlds.”

  Theo bowed, allowing irony to be shown.

  “I thank you. I learn that Scouts act on might and could be in the absence of facts. It is a valuable lesson.”

  She sat down.

  yos’Thadi was fair quivering where he stood. For an instant, Val Con thought that he was going to leap at Theo. Apparently, his first mate thought so as well. She put a hand on his arm, saying nothing, and after a moment, he again sought his chair.

  Val Con folded his hands atop the desk.

  “To answer the remainder of your objection: You were aware of the kin-ties between Captain Waitley and myself when you accepted her choice for a field judgment. If you now have cause to bring my melant’i as a Scout commander into question, you will, as you say, need to file a complaint with the appropriate authorities.”

  Val Con’s pause was brief, his lifted eyebrow fleeting.

  “I do wonder, though—to which Scout administration will you protest?”

  “The Liaden Scouts, of course! Where else might I find Scout administration?”

  “Why, there is a Scout Headquarters situated here on Surebleak, sir. Surely you are aware of the divide that has opened between those who believe themselves to be Scouts, and those who remain Liaden Scouts?”

  “I am aware that there are upstarts who have left the ranks, and created a false headquarters.”

  “Ah. I would advise you not to offer them that opinion. They feel rather strongly that theirs is the true headquarters. However that may be, until allegiances and protocols have aligned themselves, we have two Scout administrations, and two review boards. I shall submit my judgments to both, and you, I assume, will present your protest to both.

  “As these various items are making their way through the appropriate channels, I will remind you that these two judgments are now working policy. They will remain so until such time as either or both are overturned by the review board. Or boards.”

  He looked to Theo.

  “Captain Waitley? Have you any questions regarding these judgments?”

  Theo cleared her throat.

  “Thank you, Scout Commander,” she said in excellent, Solcintran-tinged Liaden. “I am satisfied with the judgments and have no questions. However, I believe that Bechimo’s executive officer wishes to address Captain yos’Thadi.”

  Val Con inclined his head.

  “Speak.”

  Clarence stood. yos’Thadi also stood, in reflex, Val Con thought, but even standing, Clarence looked down on him.

  “It has come to my attention, sir, that you have personally threatened and coerced Win Ton yo’Vala of Bechimo’s crew. As I understand the matter, you would have crewman yo’Vala cede you access to the ship, based on an invalid contract. You will cease to harass Bechimo’s crew, sir—any and all of Bechimo’s crew. I expect that you will pass this to your crew as well.

  “I trust that I have made myself
plain?”

  “You have,” yos’Thadi said in the mode of superior-to-inferior. “May I say I find it piquant to be schooled in proper behavior by a criminal?”

  Clarence tipped his head, allowing an amusement that did not reach his eyes to be seen.

  “I would advise you, sir, to master your tendency to leap to false conclusions.”

  “You are a Juntavas operative! A criminal, sir!”

  “I was a Juntavas operative. I have retired. I was not arrested for my activities while I was in the employ of the Juntavas, and, if you care to check the stats, crime in Solcintra’s Low Port went down—significantly—during my tenure.”

  yos’Thadi was rigid. His first mate rose and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Captain. The Scout commander has rendered his judgments and will file them appropriately. You will of course pursue the route that seems best to you. In the meanwhile…”

  She glanced at Val Con and then to Theo.

  “In the meanwhile, absent some further necessity from Captain Waitley or her second, I believe we must be done here.”

  “I have nothing to add,” Theo said.

  Clarence said nothing.

  Val Con stood up.

  “Both judgments will be filed with the Scout Review Boards within this hour. Copies will be forwarded to Captain Waitley and to Captain yos’Thadi.”

  The door opened, and he moved his hand in a gentle, sweeping gesture.

  “Mr. pel’Kana will see you out.”

  * * * * *

  They were to attend Captain Robertson, Nelirikk told them. It went without saying that they should hold themselves soldierly and obey the captain without question, so Nelirikk—a man of good sense and high honor, in Stost’s opinion—did not say it. He did, however, state that they were to bring the cases.

  As if, sniffed Chernak, they would do else.

  “The captain will have said it explicitly,” Stost said, as they finished sealing their uniforms—their clean, if somewhat ragged, uniforms, “and left him no option but to state her will.”