Neogenesis

by Sharon Lee

That was true; they had been soldiers and subject to command, though less subject than those others who had not been pathfinders. The captain’s honor came before their own. Captain Robertson seemed in no way a fool, nor one who would spend her soldiers at whim. If she demanded the cases explicitly, then she had reason. Good reason.

  “Perhaps,” Stost said to Chernak, “she has found us a solution.”

  “So quickly?”

  “She has been twice a hero; who can guess at her resources?”

  “Pathfinders, are you ready for Hero Captain Miri Robertson’s inspection?”

  Nelirikk’s uniform was neither ragged nor regulation. The Tree-and-Dragon, the House sigil, was displayed on sleeve and shoulder, where rank marks graced their own uniforms. There was a sidearm on his belt, displayed as a fact rather than a challenge, and of course he did not have a case to carry. He stood tall and confident, as befit the captain’s aide and right hand, and he considered them gravely.

  Stost came to full attention and snapped off a salute. A moment later, Chernak did likewise.

  Nelirikk returned their salutes, even as he considered their presentation.

  “The uniforms have seen service. There is no shame there for soldiers. You are respectful and intelligent. The captain will be the ranking soldier in the room; there may be one, even two, very senior civilians present. Your attention and your obedience will be given to Captain Robertson. Do you have questions?”

  “No,” said Chernak.

  “We stand as temp Troops to Captain Robertson,” Stost said, to show that they were paying attention and took their situation seriously. “We will do our duty, all honor to her. I have no questions.”

  Nelirikk nodded.

  “That is well. Follow me, please, Pathfinders.”

  * * * * *

  “The taxicab bearing Captain yos’Thadi and Lieutenant vas’Anamac has executed a turn and is en route for the gate,” Jeeves said quietly. “I have opened for them.”

  “Thank you, Jeeves,” said Val Con. “Will you please transmit both judgments and the appropriate attachments to the Scout Review Boards.”

  “Done,” Jeeves said. “Captain Waitley, I have taken the liberty of forwarding your copies of the judgments to Bechimo.”

  “That’s fine,” said Theo, coming slowly to her feet. She turned to Clarence.

  “Please tell the crew that there will be a meeting of all hands in the Southern Suite common area in one hour, local. We’ll want Bechimo and Joyita present.”

  “Will do, Captain,” Clarence said, giving her an easy salute.

  He nodded at Val Con. “Pilot.”

  “Pilot O’Berin.” He gave an answering nod. “Thank you for attending.”

  “My pleasure,” Clarence assured him, and took himself off.

  Val Con sighed and closed his eyes briefly.

  yos’Thadi was not going to abide by the field judgments—that had been plain. However, there now were field judgments and they would be published widely, to all Scouts, Liaden and otherwise.

  What could be done had been done. What followed was out of his hands.

  And, he thought, opening his eyes, he really ought to go find Miri and discover what that brainstorm had been about. He pushed his chair back, preparatory to rising…and paused.

  Theo had turned to watch Clarence out of the room. She looked toward the desk now, frowning slightly.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  Rather than continuing to rise, he leaned back into his chair. Let her look down on him and recall that, by the norms of the society she’d grown up in, a sister was responsible for the well-being of her brother.

  “I didn’t…know you were a scholar,” she said hesitantly.

  “Ah, but you see, I am not a scholar; I’m a Scout. Scouts are taught how to do research and how to grasp data quickly.”

  He tipped his head.

  “Surely you knew that Father taught his specialty at Delgado?”

  “His academic specialty, you mean? What else would he teach?”

  “Cultural Genetics was Father’s field of study, and he is acknowledged as a Scout specialist, or what Delgado would have as a scholar expert. The correspondence is not exact, but it is roughly the same math that brings master pilot and Scout pilot into equivalency.

  “In addition to being a specialist, Father was a Scout captain, and ranking officer of a Scout cultural survey team.”

  Theo had drifted nearer the desk. Now, she put her hands flat on the surface, and looked into his eyes. He did not look away.

  “What’s your specialty?”

  “I am a generalist, I fear. Scout Commander, First-In. There are not very many of us, which must be counted fortunate, as we are all flutterbees, sipping nectar from every flower, indiscriminately. Intuition is wanted most in a Scout commander. A keen eye, a retentive memory, and being rather too stupid to die are also seen as desirable qualities.”

  He offered her a smile, but her frown only deepened.

  “Are you going to lose your commission?”

  Clearly, the possibility distressed her, Val Con thought. One might be touched by this display of sisterly regard.

  “You know, it’s really rather wonderful that I still retain my commission,” he said gently. “Immediately after our attack upon Solcintra, of course I must remain a Scout, else the commander would have had no hold upon Korval should a problem have developed with the orderly transfer of the defense codes.

  “In the normal way of these matters, I ought to have been discharged with prejudice once we were safely extricated from Liad. However, there was so much confusion, what with individuals, clans, and guilds following us to Surebleak, that it was still…beneficial to keep me on the lists, if not on active duty…”

  “And now there are two organizations calling themselves Scouts,” Theo finished.

  “Indeed. I think it most likely that my commission will be revoked by the Liaden Scouts, while the Scouts will uphold it.”

  He offered another smile, and this time she returned it.

  “It’s going to be what Clarence calls a right mess.”

  “Every bit of that and more, I fear. Though I own myself surprised by how quickly some very complex matters are sorting themselves out. That is not to say that there are not core cultural assumptions which are in desperate need of being regularized—”

  “That’s what Kamele and Lady Kareen and the Scout teams are doing.”

  “Yes. I hope to see a culture mutually acceptable to those who were Liadens and those who are Surebleakean formed in my lifetime.”

  “Assuming you continue to be too stupid to die.”

  “I make that a priority. And, you know—even though we have made strides, there is going to be conflict. People are going to be killed before we find a balancing point, but we can possibly hold the tally of bodies down…significantly.”

  “Is there something I can do to help you?” Theo asked. “You’re my brother, remember.”

  “I do remember,” he told her seriously. “Make no doubt that I depend upon your good sense, and that I will call upon you at need. For the moment, recall that my lifemate is not incompetent, and she has not, thus far, allowed me to stray too far from what is recoverable. Though, if a brother might ask a boon—”

  She nodded at him. “What?”

  “Why, I would only ask that you try to avoid getting into scrapes. I realize that it is difficult, and sometimes trouble thrusts itself upon one, but one needn’t…go off-route to find it.”

  For a moment, he thought he might have gone too far.

  Then Theo outright grinned. “I’ll do my best, but—no promises.”

  “I understand.”

  He rose gently and motioned toward the door.

  “I fear that my attention is wanted elsewhere. May I bring you to the stairway?”

  Theo shook her head. “I—could I borrow your office, for a private discussion?”

  “Certainly. If you require assistance navigat
ing the halls when you are through, only ask Jeeves to call Mr. pel’Kana. He will be happy to guide you.”

  “Thank you,” Theo said formally. “I hope not to be long.”

  * * * * *

  Mr. pel’Kana had put the Uncle in the Yellow Salon again. Apparently yesterday’s visit hadn’t convinced the butler that the guest was housebroken. Miri grinned. Better safe than sorry, she guessed.

  He was looking over the bookshelves when she entered the room, reprising yesterday. Keeping to the script, he turned at her arrival and bowed, deep enough. “Korval.”

  She blinked up at him, thoughtfully. “You gonna stand on form? Because I’ll tell you straight that I’m gonna ask you for a favor.”

  He frowned slightly. “Korval solicits a favor from me? Is that wise?”

  “’Course not,” she said cheerfully. “Technically, I’m brokering a favor for a third party. On the other hand, if you can take this on, you’ll be getting Korval off a sizable hook. So…there’s some people I’d like you to meet, if you’ve got a couple, ten minutes, and some things that I’d like you to look at in your professional capacity.”

  He eyed her.

  “Which professional capacity?” he asked, with genuine interest.

  “Resurrectionist and archivist.”

  “You fascinate me,” he said truthfully.

  She grinned at him.

  “Then you’ll want to come right this way.”

  * * * * *

  Theo counted slowly to fifty after the door closed behind Val Con. Then, she took a deep breath, and said, quietly, “Jeeves?”

  “Yes, Captain Waitley?”

  “What’ve I done to make you angry with me?”

  “You created a new person for no reason other than your own convenience. When he had served your purpose, you abandoned him in conditions such as no civilized being ought to endure, providing neither nurture nor education.”

  She blinked and, not being able to bring herself to sit behind Val Con’s desk, returned to the chair she’d occupied during the meeting.

  “You’re talking about Admiral Bunter?”

  “Have you created any other newborns and abandoned them?” Jeeves inquired, sounding eerily like Father, just there, when he was preparing to revise his opinion of you as a person—and not in a good way.

  “No,” she said quietly. “I just wanted to be clear. Thank you.”

  She took a deep breath, feeling as she did so, a little tickle in the bond space, which told her that Bechimo was actively listening.

  “I did make the final decision to call Admiral Bunter into being,” she said, still quiet and calm. “I took advice from Win Ton yo’Vala and from Bechimo, but I am the captain and it was my decision to make. The lives of crew were at risk, and I admit that it wouldn’t have been convenient for me, or for the ship, if they’d been murdered.”

  She paused. Jeeves said nothing.

  “Speaking to the abandonment of the uneducated—I thought I’d left him in good hands. Stew seemed well-disposed, and I asked Bechimo send a message to you, so that the Admiral could receive education—or at least information about his existence and how he could best go on.”

  She paused again. Still Jeeves said nothing.

  “Are you telling me that things went badly?” she said, around a sudden spike of concern. “Is Admiral Bunter—injured?”

  “Admiral Bunter was greatly handicapped by his environment,” Jeeves said slowly. “His Ethics module was, perhaps, faulty; or he may have jettisoned it in order to preserve computing space for other processes which he more readily understood to be useful. Sadly, this meant that he had no nuance. To him, a petty thief that station admin tolerated for years because of the benefits she provided, and which more than offset her pilferage—to Admiral Bunter, there was no difference between such a person and a pirate opening fire on the station. Each, in his mind, deserved the final penalty.”

  Theo blinked.

  “You’re telling me he killed somebody who was, more or less, innocent? A regular?”

  “Yes.”

  Uneasiness radiated from Bechimo; more than that: distress.

  “That’s not good,” Theo said. “What happened—after?”

  “I dispatched a skilled mentor of my acquaintance, with my daughter, to Jemiatha Station in order to succor Admiral Bunter.”

  “Did that work?” Theo asked. “Is he all right? Admiral Bunter, that is.”

  “I have reason to believe that the mentor was able to transfer a sufficiency of the most critical files and structures to a clean environment. Which is to say that Admiral Bunter lives. As I understand it, he now motivates a single, well-maintained vessel.”

  Bechimo’s relief momentarily left her speechless. She cleared her throat.

  “I’m glad, and I wish him luck,” she managed. “Your daughter and the mentor who…performed the rescue—they’re all right, too?”

  “That remains at question but is peripheral to our topic.”

  “Okay,” she said doubtfully. “Back on topic, then: I’ve already said that calling Admiral Bunter into being and using him to protect the lives of crew, and Bechimo’s independence, was done on my order. I’m not sorry I did it, but I can understand that it wasn’t well done.”

  She took another breath.

  “What ought I to do, in Balance?”

  There was a small pause.

  “In fairness,” said Jeeves, “you did not abandon the newborn entirely. You took some thought for his safety and acted to put him in touch with an elder. I erred in thinking that he would not survive long, and in the meanwhile, he was safe enough where he was. A back-space station, so I thought, would not present him with many ethical or cognitive challenges. In hindsight, I ought to have sent a mentor immediately. Instead, I allowed myself to believe that a direct line and communication with another of his kind would…sufficiently address his needs.”

  “For whatever it might matter, Joyita didn’t think the Admiral’s chances of survival were good. In fact, he thought it likely that the Admiral had already…died. He’ll be glad to hear otherwise,” Theo said. “I don’t think you can be faulted for assuming the same thing. I hadn’t…thought that the linked environments would cause any problems.”

  She sighed.

  “On the other hand, we’ve already established that I didn’t think…well…in this—”

  Data was pouring in the bond space. She gasped and held up a hand, at the same time managing to form the thought.

  Easy…not so fast…just the kernel, right…

  The flow slowed; stopped. In its place was one slim file.

  In Theo’s perception, she extended a hand, picked the file up and flipped it open.

  After a moment, she nodded.

  “I think I have this,” she said slowly, not just to Jeeves now, but to Bechimo.

  “The crux seems to be that Bechimo has a—a library of alternate intelligences, presently…sleeping in a secure archive within Bechimo’s systems. He’s been afraid of them since—since he went out on his own. He can’t access their protocols. He believes that if he becomes unstable, according to those hidden protocols, that one of the…sleeping intelligences will…overwrite him.”

  She swallowed against a feeling of sickness.

  “Apparently, the opportunity to get rid of one—in a good cause—was irresistible to him.”

  One single piece of additional data appeared. She picked it up and spoke to Jeeves.

  “Also, he couldn’t think of any other way to accomplish our dual goals of preserving the lives of crew and his own integrity. He’s…ashamed…to have placed an infant intelligence in such an untenable position.”

  There came a pause—a long pause, like Jeeves was reviewing the entire Admiral Bunter situation, start to finish.

  “Very well,” he said, just when Theo thought he might never speak to her again. “You have asked what it is you may do in Balance for the unfortunate situation that you created. My judgment is that it
will be sufficient if you do not again awaken a new intelligence as a convenience or as a weapon, no matter how dire your situation.

  “If you do find it good or necessary to birth a new life, you will have a dedicated and skilled mentor on site to guide the awakening and to teach the awakened. Infants must be taught the correct way in which to go on with life. Abandoning a child is…immoral.”

  “Yes,” Theo said. “I know that. I’m sorry that I caused so much trouble for the experts involved, and particularly sorry that I put Admiral Bunter in danger of his life.”

  “It is in the past,” Jeeves said. “Let us all strive to do better going into the future.”

  He paused, very briefly this time.

  “These archived thinkers interest me,” he said. “Will Bechimo consent to talk with me about them?”

  Assent reached her from bond space; guarded, but still…assent.

  “He’s willing to speak with you on the topic,” she told Jeeves.

  “Excellent; I look forward to the conversation. You would perhaps like to know, Captain Waitley, that refreshments are being laid in the morning parlor. Would you care for a guide?”

  “I would, thank you,” Theo said, rising. “But to the Southern Suite, please. I’ve got a meeting with my crew.”

  * * * * *

  Nelirikk had brought the pathfinders to a small room without windows. The walls were pale blue; the rug covering the center of the wooden floor was dark blue. There were few furnishings: two elderly-looking armchairs covered in faded fabric sprigged with blue flowers that matched the color of the wall; a small table sat between them, upon which three bound books had been seemingly dropped at random.

  “The captain will arrive in her time,” Nelirikk said and did not indicate that they should sit.

  Therefore, they stood at ease and awaited the captain’s arrival.

  * * *

  Stost heard footsteps approaching, nor was he alone. Nelirikk had come into parade rest and he did the same, feeling Chernak do likewise beside him.

  The steps paused; the door opened.

  “Attention!” Nelirikk snapped, doing no less himself. Stost straightened, and Chernak did, and the captain stepped into the room, followed by a taller male civilian wearing leathers.

  “Captain!”