Читать книгу Triad - Sheila Finch - Страница 11

CHAPTER SIX

Lil glanced at the disorder in exasperation. The bridge of the Ann Bonny was an informal place, crowded with instrument panels, large and small display screens and simboards, gauges, warning systems, monitoring devices, all the paraphernalia that allowed humans to fly through the unbreathable void. And there was more, for it was a microcosm of the ship itself, the nesting instinct of a magpie carried into space, Lil thought: coffee beakers, odds and ends of planetary artifacts from a dozen worlds that somebody had fancied as souvenirs, Sky Selese’s collection of pipes and bags of exotic tobaccos, even a discarded holocube of somebody’s lover left forever on Earth. And over it all, the watchful green eye of HANA, the Hybrid-Analogic biocomputer, series 451K. The Ann Bonny might be old, Lil thought with affectionate pride, but only the science ships had better computers.

As a young woman she’d served aboard a science ship on exploratory surveys, all clean lines and sterile surfaces. But she’d taken time out to stay on earth and have Vivi.

She’d even chosen to do it the hard way, bearing the child herself. She’d kept Vivi with her in Geneva for almost twelve years while she taught at the Academy. It was an unusually long time for a child and parent to stay together. Gia must be about Vivi’s age—maybe that was why she was troubled by the girl.

The CompSpec had not yet acknowledged Lil’s presence. Lil flicked invisible dust and pipe ashes from the command chair and sat down, setting her cane beside her. She didn’t regret those years, yet when they were over and Vivi went away to school, Lil learned the price she’d paid. Seniority gone, training outdated, her skills too rusty for the newer science ships, she had had to take a job with the Commerce Fleet.

Sky glanced up to reach an overhead display and noticed Lil.

“There was no choice involved, Lil,” Sky said without preliminary. “That’s the fact that has me by the throat and won’t let go.”

Lil shrugged noncommittally. “We all make the best decisions we can under the circumstances.”

“Nteko and I had been together since primary school in Nairobi. That’s a long time.”

“Sky.” There were other things more troubling than Sky’s lost lover. She moved to the first one. “I need an update on that wreck. Has HANA dated it? Any word from CenCom, where they were from?”

“Nothing from CenCom. But postulating its most likely original vector, and calculating from its slowly decaying orbit, it probably happened a century ago, Earth Standard, give or take a year.”

“Damn, but there’s something odd here.” She’d been turning the pieces of the puzzle over and over in her mind since their encounter with the alien wreck. Could the aliens have been traders, like themselves? The Sagittans were hard on ships that didn’t come up with acceptable trade agreements, but she’d never heard they destroyed them. Perhaps the rumors about marauding pirates were true, after all.

Sky had already dismissed the problem from her attention. “Nteko was part of myself. We shared everything.”

She’d plaited her hair in dozens of tiny black braids, Lil noticed, a style Nteko used to wear.

“I loved Nteko.” Sky’s thin face was a carving in topaz in the cabin’s muted evening-cycle light. “Yet when it came to the decision, I left him. I couldn’t even wait the few weeks it would take for his leg to heal.”

Obviously, she was going to have to humor the CompSpec first. Lil decided on the direct approach. “Why didn’t you wait? I would’ve missed you, but I would’ve found another computer specialist easily enough, even if she wasn’t as good. I managed to replace Nteko, didn’t I?”

“I knew he’d never fly again. I saw it in the MedTechs’ eyes when they first examined the break. It wasn’t a clean one, and Nteko had delayed getting help for it until after the infection set in. They’d never give him clearance for space. And I couldn’t face the thought of staying on Earth, of never going out among the stars again. Not even for Nteko. So I abandoned him. What kind of monster does that make me?”

“No monster. Space does strange things to us all.”

“I explained it to myself by blaming him. He shouldn’t have taken the risk that caused the accident. Did I have to give up my career because he’d been stupid?”

“Let it go now,” Lil advised. “It serves no purpose to torture yourself. What’s done is done.”

“But, Lil—would I have left him so easily if he’d been a woman?”

“Look, Sky, I know you’re feeling bad about this, but could we get to work? I’ve got some questions for HANA.”

Sky stiffened. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “You have command access, Captain.”

“Thanks.” There was nothing she could do about the wreck right now, but there were other, more immediate problems.

The small screen directly in front of the command chair remained a pearly blank.

“Good evening, Captain Cheng,” HANA said.

“Good evening, HANA.”

“How’s your hip?”

“Healing, thank you.”

“Is everything going well?”

HANA knew every last detail of Lil’s deteriorating bones and how the mission was progressing. In fact, Lil sometimes wondered if humans were needed at all. The computer could manage the whole thing by itself, and more efficiently. But CenCom was sensitive to the fragile human ego. A basic household Arti was often bossy and officious, but biocomputers of HANA’s complexity were programmed to maintain a low profile in the decision-making process. And in addition, she thought, they displayed a modicum of human warmth.

“As well as you could expect for such a dumb cargo,” she said.

“I’m sure the nature of the cargo won’t affect the size of remuneration the crew receives, Captain.”

“Stow it, HANA. I don’t need scolding. You know as well as we do, beads are an odd commodity for CenCom to want to trade in. They’re not even pretty. If CenCom wants to start a fad in junk jewelry, I saw some on Xyrus 9 that were far better.”

“Captain, Zion Marit reported in. The shelter’s almost complete. He had a few technical problems, mainly because of the decision to use indigenous building materials instead of employing our plastisteel spinner.”

“Good news.” Lil looked thoughtfully at the console. The information she needed was in HANA’s memory banks. But whether the computer would yield it or not would depend on her knowing how to ask for it. Sky busied herself with another keyboard, her eyes avoiding Lil. There were no secrets that Sky didn’t have access to in any case. Lil leaned back in the command chair. “I want some information on a crew member.”

“Go ahead.”

“Gia Kennedy. Run the stats.”

HANA’s display screen lit up, and Gia’s biostat began to print itself rapidly:

GIA KENNEDY, PHYSIOLOGICAL AGE: 25.10 STANDARD YEARS—

Lil interrupted the flow of vital statistics. “Specify early experiences.”

NO HOST MOTHER. RAISED BY NATURAL MOTHER, ROS KENNEDY, MEDSPEC ASSIGNED TO AMERIND SURVIVOR COMMUNITY IN TAOS, EARTH ZONE 5. ATTENDED SCHOOL IN SHANGHAI FROM AGE 11 TO 16; GENERAL STUDIES. ATTENDED LANGUAGE ACADEMY IN GENEVA FROM AGE 16 TO 24; SUBJECT: XENOLINGUISTICS. COMPUTER INTERFACE IMPLANT UNDERTAKEN AT AGE 22.03. ACADEMIC RATING: 2ND IN CLASS. HIGH HONORS.

Lil contemplated the screen. The girl had received her first formal education in Shanghai, a school that had been a hotbed for subversive activity. Lil herself had once had more than a passing acquaintance with the lower ranks of the notorious secret Society of the Dow, believers in the supremacy of human rather than computer-controlled and -programmed destiny. If Gia’s mother had chosen to send her to Shanghai, it might be significant. A lot depended on what kind of a woman MedSpec Kennedy had been.

And then she saw it.

“Sperm bank stats on paternity?”

“I’m afraid there appears to be a gap in this portion of the data,” HANA’s level voice said.

“Then tell me whether this was a routine insemination or—”

CLASSIFIED.

A warning light flashed so she wouldn’t miss the message.

“Override,” she insisted. “Sky—dammit! What’s the code for a ship’s commander?”

“Five-three—one-seven—nine.”

OVERRIDE REJECTED. DIRECTIVE 1-A.

That was CenCom’s own prerogative to reveal or conceal as it saw fit, and there was no way around it.

“I’m sorry,” HANA said. “It would seem that information isn’t available. But surely the identity of paternal parentage is of little importance?”

“I suspect it is, for this crew member.”

The CompSpec glanced swiftly at her, as if she were about to offer assistance. Then she apparently changed her mind and bent to the keyboard again. Sky could probably get around Directive 1-A if she tried, Lil thought. She was easily the best in the commercial fleet; she could have been one of CenCom s own chosen few in Geneva if she’d wanted. Lil had often wondered why she hadn’t. Nteko, of course.

She rose from the command chair and, leaning on her cane, stretched herself, relieving the sensation of cramp that she felt increasingly in her muscles these days. Retirement seemed more and more an attractive option. No more mysterious wrecks or cagey computers to deal with, at any rate.

“You seem to need a period of exercise,” HANA said. “Would you like me to make up a new program for you? Your hip is ready for some therapy now.”

Damned bossy old woman! “You take care of this bucket of junk, HANA, and I’ll take care of myself.” She turned away from the now blank screens to face Sky. “And you, Sky—relax a little. That’s an order, do you hear?”

“I hear you, Captain,” Sky said.

Lil smiled and, leaning down awkwardly, hugged her ComSpec.

“Captain Cheng,” HANA interrupted. “LangSpec Kennedy has just left the mess and is heading for your cabin.”

Lil sighed. She’d been hoping to turn in early. “I’ll meet her there.”

She reached her quarters just as Gia, one hand bandaged and cradled in a sling, raised her other hand to knock.

“Go on in.”

Lil kicked her boots off while Gia settled herself in the web chair by the cabin’s low table. With the lighting lowered, she thought, the place seemed much bigger than it really was, freighters not having much space for luxury accommodations. But the art work she’d collected on a dozen worlds—she hadn’t been immune to the magpie instinct, either—gave character to the curving walls. A pile of bookcubes waited for her to slip them into the console, mostly technical manuals, but some poets she considered old friends. And she’d long ago ripped out the regulation gray tweed carpet, replacing it with the living warmth of orange-brown bioweave. The cabin wasn’t as spacious as the apartment in Geneva, but it was cozy.

“How’s the hand?”

She reached for the small triangular bottle of kav. It was going to be a long evening, and no Zion to make staying up late worthwhile this time. Maybe just as well. She was getting a bit old for the athletic event that particular young man made of sex. But the memory made her smile; she hadn’t known she still had it in her.

Gia watched Lil pour blue liquid into real crystal before answering. “It’s fine. That was stupid of me, down there. After what happened to you, I should’ve known to be cautious. I was very unprofessional—my own fault the Ent attacked me.”

“As for what happened to me,” Lil said, “HANA gave me a lecture on being overweight and clumsy. But your incident—I wonder if it was meant as an attack?”

The girl looked up. “What do you mean?”

“In some Earth societies, and certainly among many of the higher mammals, biting was a form of affection, a sign of sexual arousal.”

Gia’s face flooded with fire. A curious reaction, Lil thought. There was a puzzle here, all right. She filled her own crystal, obscurely irritated. “Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about, or is this a social visit?”

Gia’s eyes beseeched Lil to understand. “Madel says I have to stay up here for a few days, until she’s sure my hand’s clean. But I have to go back down, Lil. I have to get on with my work.”

Lil looked at her thoughtfully. CenCom was hiding something about her. With the emphasis on population stability that had prevailed for a couple of hundred years, not all women chose to have children. And some of those took advantage of professional mothers—CenCom having recognized the fact long ago that no matter what else changed, some women just enjoyed having babies. But CenCom had taken the mess and guess out of baby-making. Half an hour out of a busy day spent at the local sperm bank guaranteed the mother-to-be the perfect genetic heritage for her child. As for the minority, the Dowists who believed in doing things the old way, CenCom tended to ignore them as long as they were discreet. So why wouldn’t it allow HANA to reveal paternity data about Gia?

Or perhaps it had, indirectly. Lil had once known the recognition words of the lower ranks of the Dowists. Could she remember them correctly?

“Gia, do you miss the seasons on Earth?”

The girl looked startled. “Seasons? Yes—at least I suppose I do. Spring particularly—I think.”

Wrong answer. She tried again. “I always thought winter was the prime example, a blending of contrasts in light and dark.”

Gia stared uncomfortably into her goblet. “It snows in Taos in winter—I grew up in a Survivor Community, did you know?”

“Yes.” She waited.

“They had horses up there—I learned to ride.”

Gia was obviously doing her best to hold up her end of the conversation. But she was making all the wrong responses. Lil gave it one last try. It’d been a long time since she’d used the words. “At night, the constellation Libra burns above my house in the mountains.”

Libra, the scale, symbol of the Dowists, signifying balance in all things. She didn’t want to be more obvious than that, not with HANA’s ever-present ear.

“How—how nice,” Gia stammered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Libra from Earth.”

It was really just as well.

She drained her kav. “I’ll have a word with Madel for you, but I’m not promising results.”

Gia’s face came alive with pleasure. “Thank you. I won’t allow anything like that to happen again. There’ll be nothing but text-cube procedures from now on.”

“Some of the situations we meet out here haven’t been recorded on the text-cubes yet.”

She watched the girl go. Something suggested Gia needed hugging. But she’d never allow anyone close enough to do it.

Reaching the medbay, she took the door to the lab. Sterile white light drenched the small lab, in stark contrast to the rest-cycle dimness elsewhere. Lil blinked, her tired eyes adjusting slowly. Madel was out of sight behind the crowded growth tanks, supply hoses and gauges. Lil looked over the full rows of neatly arranged lab bottles each containing something unspeakable with a label glued squarely in the middle and lettered in Madel’s precise hand. Some things were slow to change. Though the rest of Earth’s population spoke one of the three levels of Inglis, medical specialists still employed a language that had been dead for two millennia.

“What’re you smiling at?” Madel demanded, emerging from behind the coils of wire and plastitubing.

“Muscular reflex only, brought on by extreme tiredness.”

Madel began slicing a fungus as Lil watched. It had the color and texture of a lifeless human hand; drops of blackish sap oozed out like blood. She shuddered.

“Wait’ll I get this under the scope.” Madel deposited a slice on a slide and whisked it under a sensor. She wiped her hands on her white smock and waited. The large display screen canted above the bench lit up, and a series of calculations printed themselves rapidly across it.

Lil decided to be blunt. “When’re you letting Gia go planetside?”

“Analysis completed, MedSpec Karek.” HANA’s voice sounded hollow in the cold lab.

“But you still haven’t told me why,” Madel complained.

“Perhaps there was an imprecision in the manner of collecting the specimens?”

“You know very well there wasn’t.”

HANA was silent.

Lil’s tiredness vanished. Whatever question Madel had posed had stumped the computer, and that was an interesting thought. She swung out a nest-stool and sat down.

Madel paced, her expression grim. “The ones Zion collected may have been damaged, but I took care these weren’t.”

“Would you care to explain?”

Madel jumped as if she’d forgotten Lil’s presence.

“If it’s not too technical, I mean.”

Madel ignored the sarcasm. “All the plant specimens that’ve been brought up here from the planet have died within ten hours. Likewise the microbes and minute life forms that were in the soil samples. I can’t even keep a simple fungus alive.”

“So what? We’re not a science ship.”

Madel stopped pacing in front of Lil and perched her long, thin frame against the edge of the lab bench. The smock gaped, revealing the uniform beneath. Other than Shelly, Lil thought, only Madel wore her uniform all the time. The difference was, Madel complained endlessly about the job it represented.

“It makes me uneasy to think there’s something I can’t identify. But as you pointed out, we’re not a science ship. I’m just the bonesetter on a merchant tub. But you see why I can’t give you the okay to let Gia go down again tomorrow.”

“Zion’s still down there.”

Madel returned Lil’s gaze steadily. “I always had the fantasy, right from the moment he came aboard, that one of us wasn’t going to make the return trip.”

“Are you suggesting I abandon him?”

Madel shook her head. “But I can’t help what happens to him. I didn’t want him along in the first place. The rest of us are my responsibility.”

“Mine,” Lil said.

“Ours,” Madel corrected. “Or rather, yours, mine, and HANA’s—a regular triumvirate.”

Lil raised an eyebrow. “Something’s really bothering you tonight.”

“Same thing as ever. I keep thinking what a waste. All that talent—dedication—knowledge—all of it to be little more than a LabTech, cutting up tissue samples for a computer to analyze. I’d dreamed of being a surgeon until that stupid accident.” She held up the stunted index finger of her right hand.

There was no use arguing with Madel when she was feeling sorry for herself. And tonight Lil was tired of dealing with her crew’s neuroses. She had her own shattered ambitions. Whoever asked her about them? She turned to leave.

“You’re underestimating the importance of this planet, Lil.”

“CenCom obviously agrees there’s profit in it—”

“Profit!” Madel made an oath of the word. “If we had the courage to take advantage of the situation, this could be the luckiest thing that ever happened to us—a great memorial to your last command.”

“We’ll probably get a good bonus.”

Madel reached over suddenly to the computer keyboard. HANA’s green light went out. “I’m not talking bonus, Lil. I’m talking colony.”

It was an incongruous word to use on a freighter. Lil stared thoughtfully at her MedSpec, seeing the bitter lines that had bloomed around her eyes and mouth in the last few years.

“Have you considered how few unclaimed, Earth-type planets we’ve seen in the Orion Arm?”

“None, actually,” Lil said.

“Exactly. We’re in a position to claim Earth’s first extra-solar territory. Establish a human colony.”

There was no denying the idea was exciting, a chance to achieve something worthwhile at last. But even as she was aware of the faster beat of her heart, logic reasserted itself. “The Sagittan charter we operate under forbids claiming, or establishing colonies on, worlds with sentient populations. That seems to rule out Ithaca 3-15d rather effectively.”

“If the Ents are sentient.”

“Apparently they have a language.”

“So what? Bees have a language.”

Lil was silent. According to the Sagittan charter governing interactions between different species—a charter Earth had had little choice in signing—there was a fine line separating life forms displaying high intelligence from life forms that were sentient. The conduct expected of charter signatories in relation to each was carefully spelled out. As to which category the natives of Ithaca 3-15d belonged, that would depend heavily on the xenolinguist’s assessment of their language. A LangSpec knew the tests the Sagittans demanded.

“Haven’t you noticed the stuff that comes off this mudball?” Madel asked. “Didn’t you feel anything as you rubbed the beads between your fingers?”

She’d felt a slight buzz, she remembered now, as if her fingertips had come in contact with a mild electrical source. “Maybe.”

“Almost as if they had hallucinogenic properties?” Madel persisted.

“Doesn’t that argue that the makers are sentient?”

“No. The beads aren’t anything but hard nuts strung on plaited vines. The quality is in the plant fibers, not in the primitive way they’ve been shaped. But, Lil, this could be a tremendously rich colony for us.”

“If Gia gets the trade agreement settled—”

“Dammit, Lil! I’m not talking about trade agreements. How can you make an agreement with animals?”

“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind before all the data are in.”

“I’m just suggesting—”

“We’d have to call a crew meeting over this. There’s a moral issue involved. “ One of the first things she’d learned at the Academy years ago: never trust simple solutions to issues involving ethics. To anticipate consequences of her actions, a captain had to consult with her crew. Everybody’s opinion was useful.

“Forget protocol for a while!” Madel slapped her hand hard on the lab counter in emphasis.

But it was a tempting idea. And maybe it was meant to be, she thought. Surely it had been an act of fate that brought them here in the first place. “What’re you suggesting I do?”

“Just let me get on with my research. Later, when we’re ready, you can put the word to CenCom.”

“We?”

“Actually, it was Dori’s idea.”

“I should’ve have known,” Lil said. “Well, I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long. And Lil”—Madel glanced at the small lab console where the green eye was temporarily closed—”keep this away from HANA. We don’t want it leaking to CenCom before we’re ready.”