Star Carrier (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 3) (13 page)

-21-

Sick despair over Zye’s disappearance grew steadily in my mind, eventually transforming into cold determination.

If she still lived, I would find her. It was as simple as that. I’d discover why she was removed from existence, and I’d reverse the process if at all possible.

Under no illusions, I knew I wouldn’t find these tasks easy to perform. The ancients who ran my world hadn’t done so for a century and a half without being very good at it.

My efforts would have to be forceful, but my true purposes would have to be hidden. No one would support me if I were to reveal my cause. Even Yamada, whose hack on my implant had allowed me to keep my memories, had no inkling that Zye had ever existed.

To confront people, to run around the ship insisting they recall an unperson, that would invite disaster. There was no evidence.

I’d visited Zye’s cabin. Everything was there as it had been, but her effects had been left behind on Earth. This was a standard procedure for crewmen. You unshipped for long stays and often your cabin was reassigned. In the past, there might have been a physical image, a photograph, something of that nature—but not in modern times.

Images, voiceprints, signatures, recorded events—they were all held digitally. They were universally stored on networks in collective clouds of data. Such evidence of Zye had been meticulously erased.

Zye’s existence as a data factoid had probably been the easiest element to remove. In retrospect, the very nature of our modern culture, especially in regards to modern record keeping, made such deletions simplicity itself.

Her database key had been deleted. Her records destroyed. All transactions and vid clips—gone.

Even DNA traces would prove nothing. They might show that a Beta had at one point been living aboard
Defiant
—but so what? The ship had been built and crewed exclusively by Betas in the past.

No, talking about an unperson to those who didn’t remember her would be met with laughter at first, but that would quickly transform into concern. My sanity would be questioned if I persisted. I’d lose my command by the time we returned to Earth. There, those who might take notice of my quixotic behavior and realize my mind hadn’t been properly edited may decide to take further drastic action against me.

Therefore, I’d have to proceed with care. Every action I took toward discovering Zye’s fate would have to appear to have another purpose. If I revealed my true goal, it would only serve to put my enemies on guard.

The very idea of hiding my mission grated on me. I hated the whole idea of subterfuge. It reminded me too much of politics.

I decided to mark down the situation as one more reason to hate the Council and their Chairman even more deeply. I’d never liked the Council or felt their rule was just, but now, they’d made it personal.

My first move was to meet again with Vogel. This time, I spoke to him privately, taking pains to make sure we weren’t being recorded.

“Captain Sparhawk,” he began in a pained voice, “your crew—especially that detestable man Morris, who still refuses to—”

“I’ll fix it,” I said, cutting him off. “I’ll give you full access.”

He stopped, taken aback. “Full access to what?”

I shrugged. “The ship. The variants. Whatever supplies you might need. I’ve changed my mind about you, Director. I think you’re just the man whose help I need.”

Vogel blinked, stared then slowly moved a fingertip to press his glasses farther up his nose.

I’d never asked him why he didn’t bother to get his eyes surgically altered. Glasses were exceedingly rare these days. Perhaps he considered it to be a fashion statement of some kind.

“Excellent,” he said slowly. “May I ask what changed your mind specifically?”

“Someone took over Halsey’s ship. They used the variants to do it. At first, I’d assumed the variants themselves had gone mad or rebelled against—”

“Couldn’t happen. Not in a thousand generations!”

“Yes, so you’ve said many times. I’ve come to believe you. I’ve come to understand that your variants aren’t the enemy, but they may have become the unwitting tools of our
real
enemy.”

Vogel cautiously nodded. “Logical. Inescapably logical.”

“Yes… The question now is what you and I are going to do about it.”

He blinked again. “Do? About what?”

“Weren’t you listening? Someone managed to hack your variants and give them orders to rebel. That individual, or group of individuals, must be from this star system. They aren’t an external threat, they exist within our ranks.”

Perhaps my intensity and lack of humor was getting to the man. What he’d expected to consist of a fruitless argument for access had turned into something much different. He looked very uncomfortable.

“Well… Captain Sparhawk, I don’t know quite what to say. What you’re claiming may be true, but we don’t have any way of knowing how events progressed aboard
Victory
. It could be that—”

“Let me show you something,” I said, interrupting him.

Without waiting for his reply, I tapped at my desk. I called up the vid file of my last conversation with Admiral Halsey. After going through a series of passwords, I played the file.

He watched with a mixture of fascination and surprise. At the end, when his variants stepped into the scene and slaughtered the man I’d been talking to, his emotions switched to horror. His fingers spread over his face, long and thin, with his eyes staring between them.

“Captain… I’m so sorry. I had no idea this video existed. Why did you—?”

“It was classified. I’m sure you understand why CENTCOM didn’t have you at the top of the list of people to be trusted with this information.”

“Yes… of course not. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Halsey was your friend, wasn’t he?”

“My mentor.”

He looked at me with new understanding. “Your resentment and mistrust suddenly make more sense to me. Up until this moment, I never quite believed that the variants did it. I didn’t
want
to believe it. You understand, don’t you?”

“I suppose that I do.”

“What puzzles me now,” he said, “is your sudden change of heart. Under the circumstances, you have every reason to want me and my creations off your ship. What has changed?”

Looking down, I considered how to answer his question. As I’ve said, I don’t like to lie. It took me a moment to come up with a truth that would set his mind at ease without giving away my true intentions.

“Director, there are more pieces of evidence that I’m not at liberty to share with you. Do you understand?”

He nodded, staring at me. “I do indeed, Captain. I must say, my estimation of your intellect and judgment is soaring.”

“Good. Now, I must ask again: do you want to find out who took control of your creations and turned them into weapons against us?”

“I do indeed,” he said, his face becoming thoughtful and intense. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “What do we do now? How can I help?”

There it was. I had him where I wanted him. It was manipulation, to be sure, but it was for the best of reasons. I comforted myself by recalling that it was all for a good cause.

I began to outline my plan then, which for me was only a series of conjectures and schemes. He was both impressed and fearful of the consequences.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a whisper when I’d finished. “Are you sure this action is justified?”

“I’ve been involved in internal affairs of state before,” I told him. “At times, things become messy. The public at large has never known the true depths to which our command centers were compromised in the past.”

“Astounding. If I hadn’t seen the vid of Halsey, I would have thought you to be a madman.”

My lips twitched into a smile.

“I might have thought the same,” I told him.

The rest of the journey back to Earth went smoothly. Each day, we rapidly repaired
Defiant’s
subsystems. Allowing the variants full access to the ship, and Vogel’s team full access to the variants, sped things up dramatically.

By the time we docked with Araminta Station, we were ninety-one percent operational.

But all through that time, Vogel and I worked on another project. We put our heads together and plotted. We worked long hours, and when we were done, I thought our plan might just work.

At least, there was a chance.

-22-

Araminta Station looked cold and lonely outside my window. Gone were the cluster of proud battleships Earth had produced just a few months earlier and sent on their doomed voyage into the unknown.

There was a brooding nature to the place when I disembarked and walked the passages. The crowds were muted. The atmosphere was laced with anxiety. Those who did recognize me and my crewmen examined us with foreboding. There were no shouted greetings or congratulations.

After all, hadn’t we done battle with
Victory
? Hadn’t we destroyed the only Earth vessel to return home? The sole survivor of our most glorious fleet?

Rumors were rampant. Some depicted me as a would-be dictator. A man who’d engineered a mass mutiny, and a mass scuttling of the armada for my own gain. Others painted me as incompetent, a petty man of mean spirit—or even as a Stroj agent.

Such was the depth of my reputation I found I didn’t have to worry about bodyguards. I was universally reviled and avoided. Men all but ran when they saw me coming down the echoing halls.

Most puzzling of all, however, was the lack of activity. I’d expected Earth’s navy to be licking its wounds and rebuilding. I’d thought to find a sense of desperate urgency, a fear of the unknown from abroad.

After all, what if the rest of the battleships had survived out there somewhere? What if they came back one day and returned to wreak havoc on our pathetic defenses?

Even if the common spacer didn’t grasp the danger, CENTCOM and the government surely must. Why weren’t they building a replacement fleet?

I contacted my father seeking the answer to this question as I came down the umbilical aboard a nearly empty car. Director Vogel and his variants weren’t with me—our plan mandated that he and I separate until a critical moment in the future.

“Father?” I asked, sensing that an audio-only channel had opened. “Are you there?”

“I’m here. What is it, William?”

A cold greeting. I’d been in space for more than a month, out of contact except for an occasional vid message and presumably in great danger. I’d expected at least to be able to see the man who’d fathered me.

“Are you terribly busy?” I asked.

“No, not really. We’re on recess. Mother and I are away on a private getaway. I’m sure you understand.”

I hesitated, frowning. “No, I don’t. Are you saying you don’t wish to see me?”

“Not at all, son!” he said with false bravado. “We’ve just been planning this vacation for a long time. We don’t get to see each other much in a private setting with our busy schedules. I’m sure that you’ll have plenty to do on Earth seeing your friends and so forth. By the way… where will you be staying?”

“I… I thought I was coming home to stay at the mansion.”

There was a deafening silence. My mind raced, and I began to understand the situation.

I should have expected it. My parents were political creatures. As my reputation was now radioactive, they wanted nothing to do with me.

Suddenly, the lack of video streaming also seemed very purposeful. To avoid any sort of association, it wouldn’t do to have a snapshot of even a virtual meeting floating around the net.

“I understand completely,” I said with what I hoped was only a hint of bitterness in my tone. “As it happens, I won’t have time to come by the house. I’ve got a very busy schedule at CENTCOM. Perhaps after the next voyage, we’ll have time to get together then.”

“Yes!” my father said in relief. “That’s a splendid idea. And William, about your next voyage… do you know yet when you might be shipping out again?”

“Soon father,” I said, “very soon.”

“Good. I always feel safer with you out there among the stars guarding the world all of us share. You make me proud, son.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said quietly.

The channel closed then, and I stared down at the green forests and black ribbon-like roads of Earth. Dark clouds boiled off to the east, over the ocean. Air traffic flittered this way and that above the clouds, trying to avoid the storm.

I felt as if I didn’t have a friend in the world, but that didn’t weaken my resolve. In fact, if anything, it strengthened it. The elderly spiders in their hole up to the north, they were the ones I must defeat.

The path wasn’t going to be easy, and I knew I had to take serious risks if I was to have a chance. The first item on my agenda involved an early a.m. visit to CENTCOM.

That night I slept fitfully in a hotel. I dreamt of spiders and worse things, all of them seeking to steal Zye, Yamada, Rumbold and other familiar faces from me.

When I awoke, I was red-eyed and irritable. Shower and breakfast did little to improve my mood.

As the sun dawned over the land, I stood in front of CENTCOM. I didn’t go inside, but instead waited for Vogel and his shipment of special equipment.

He was late. The sun rose higher, and I began to wonder if I’d been taken for a fool. What kind of man would plan something as audacious as this and then bail out at the last minute?

Director Vogel
, my mind said to me, supplying the name of the coward in question. This failure to act on his part seemed in character.

Perhaps he’d awakened this morning as had I, and during the early hours common sense had taken hold of his mind. The plan was half-baked at best. Vogel had never impressed me as a man of great fortitude.

Maybe he’d simply taken his packages and returned to the spaceport. Perhaps he was back on Araminta Station or in his homeland in Europe.

I could hardly blame him, but I was angry. I almost used my implant to call him. Almost.

Give it ten minutes more,
something told me.
Just ten minutes.

Pacing back and forth near a fountain, I was given odd glances by early-shift personnel as they arrived in Star Guard uniforms. The groundskeepers and even passing sparrows all seemed to pause for comment. But I didn’t talk to any of them, and I didn’t call Vogel. We’d agreed not to have contact until we met at this exact spot.

Losing patience a half-hour later, I reached out with my implant—but halted before I started a person-search. A new thought had frozen my mind.

What if Vogel had become an unperson overnight?

That’s how it had happened before with Zye. The mere idea of such a possibility was terrifying to me. If they’d gotten him, I couldn’t be far behind. I felt like I was living in a bad dream.

Fixating on the idea that Vogel had vanished like Zye, my mind began to churn. How could I run an online scan to check on his existence without sending up red flags? I was certain that a directory search on Vogel would trigger an AI somewhere. Then they would know my mind hadn’t been properly updated. My own existence would be in danger of erasure after that.

I hit upon a circuitous route. I searched not for Vogel, but rather for the Phobos labs themselves. Wouldn’t the director’s name be prominently displayed?

“There you are!” called a familiar voice.

Turning, I spotted Vogel. He was trotting toward me but not from the expected direction. He was supposed to approach from the street. Instead, he’d come from the main entrance.

“Director?” I asked. My emotions ran the gambit. I felt surprise, relief and irritation. After a moment, irritation won out. “What are you doing inside, man?” I demanded.

“Sorry, I had a technical problem. I had to be present at the unboxing, and—”

Waving my hands for silence, I began walking briskly toward the entrance. He followed along, panting. I could tell he was unaccustomed to full Earth gravity.

“We can’t talk about that,” I said. “Is everything set? That’s all I need to know.”

“Yes. We can meet them at the receiving dock. They won’t activate until we get within ten meters.”

I glanced at him. “Isn’t that cutting things a little close? What if the guards don’t let us get that near to them?”

He waggled his fingers in the air helplessly. I shook my head and hurried on.

“We’re under time-pressure now, unnecessarily,” I said.

“It couldn’t be helped, Captain.”

I had many choice words bubbling in my mind, but I let them go and tried to take deep breaths. We were almost an hour behind schedule. Admiral Perez would arrive at any moment.

Far overhead, I heard a buzzing sound. It could be his air car—I wouldn’t be surprised. He came in at 8 a. m. promptly every morning.

“Let me do all the talking,” I told Vogel. “When we get in there, you turn into a mute. Got it?”

“That hardly seems—”

“Got it?”

“Yes.”

We reached the security screening at the entrance. They removed my PAG and my power sword, but left my personal shielding device. It was something, anyway.

We didn’t make it ten paces toward the elevators before a Guardsman non-com rushed up to us.

“Sir?” he said, looking at me. “Are you Captain Sparhawk?”

“Of course.”

“Please come with me. We have a situation.”

This was it then. Could this be the straightforward approach the Council took when making an enemy vanish? Wait until they were in a compromised position then swoop down and arrest them?

My eyes flicked back to the entrance. It seemed very far away. I considered inventing an excuse to return—but then thought the better of it. I would have to bluff it through.

“What’s the nature of this emergency?” I demanded. “We have an appointment with Admiral Perez.”

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s about a package down at the loading docks.”

My eyes gave Vogel an accusatory glance. He said nothing, as I’d directed.

“Very well then, lead on.”

We followed the spacer to the sub-levels. Before we even got to the double doors at the end of the hall, I heard the familiar rasp and hiss of moving variants.

“They’re loose!” Vogel exclaimed. He began to run, rushing past us. He hit the doors with his thin arms outstretched.

“It’s not safe!” the spacer called after him.

“He can handle them,” I told the spacer. “They’re like his children.”

Then I rushed after the director. What I saw when we opened the door was shocking and crushing. I knew immediately all our carefully laid plans had been dashed.

A man lay dead in a gory heap on the loading dock. Another spacer, terrified for his life, stood near the chain-driven doors. He looked as if he wanted to break through them, but he couldn’t. He stood with the air of a man who was trying not to be noticed by nearby predators.

The third of the variant team was just unloading itself from a cocoon-like shipping crate. Another helped it do so. They all turned to look at us when we entered the chamber.

“They killed Charlie!” shouted the spacer who’d led us here. “I have to call—”

“No!” shouted the man hugging the doors. “Don’t transmit anything! Don’t pull a weapon!”

The spacer who’d guided us here didn’t listen. He put his hand on his PAG. That turned out to be a mistake.

A very long limb extruded from what I believed to be K-19. The arm had a pair of snips on it. The spacer lost his hand. His wrist was a stump, spurting blood.

Whip-like, K-19s arm retracted in the same blurring motion it had attacked.

Shocked, the spacer looked down at his wrist then he began making a keening sound.

“You have to stop that,” Vogel advised sternly. “They’re in a heightened state. They’re off-protocol.”

I reached out, grabbed the director and shook him.

“Dammit, Vogel!” I shouted in his face. “Can’t you even control these abominations when you’re in the same room with them?”

The spacer we’d come in with passed out on the floor. We glanced at him, but then I became aware of a looming, unnatural presence.

K-19 was standing over us, his snips clacking like chattering teeth.