Reclamation

10—The Hundredth Core, Kethran Encampment, 09:46; 12, Core Time

The right half of Winema’s world gleamed. Her witness’s camera was calibrated to respond to radiation both above and below the spectrum that her natural eye could detect. Through her right eye, she saw the trace glow from the optic matter, the lusterless patches of traditional solids, the distinctive auras around each of the core inhabitants as they passed her respectfully by.

Through her left eye, she saw the faces and the artworks and the walls that made up the core to the rest of the Vitae that she walked among.

There are two worlds, she was told when the tests determined her memory good enough to allow her to train as a Witness, the constructed world and the chaotic world. It is the eyes of a Witness that bring them together.

The Memory Holding was at the center of the cores, just outside the axis. The Holding’s door registered Winema’s active camera the way other security systems registered non-Witness retina or fingerprint patterns. The camera’s security wires were clones of her nervous system. It was powered by her heart and mind, just like the rest of her body. If she was not the one wearing it, it would not be functioning.

There were technologies that would have allowed a camera to be implanted inside her eye. Her mind could have been altered to act as a recorder. But then she would have no longer been Vitae. She would have been Aunorante Sangh.

The door was a layer of solid that slid away from a layer of optical matter. Winema stepped through the shimmering stuff, causing its minute crystals to ripple through the light curtain that held them in place. No one but Witnesses saw the inside of the Holding.

The twenty-four Witnesses ringed the chamber, standing in their specially customized alcoves. Each body was encased in a metallic skeleton that made sure its limbs were properly supported regularly and exercised. The polymer tubes that fed into their veins kept internal nutrient and waste levels constant. If the power failed, or even fluctuated, they would all be released and the Holding evacuated. The only process that could not be circumvented was age. At 120, the Witnesses still died and had to be replaced from the mobile ranks.

Winema walked into the center of the circular chamber, tracked by twenty-four cameras and twenty-four eyes. She stood straight and proud under the gaze of the Memory. She did not have to hand them her name. They already knew her better than she knew herself.

“I have the names for the chain of Imperialists in my line of sight,” she said.

Witness 14 opened his mouth. There was a delicate hiss as the joints on his skeleton responded to the movement. “Recite.” The eyes blinked, but the cameras did not.

“Wife Caril Hanr Sone of the Grand Errand, Ambassador-Beholden Paral Idenam Or of the Grand Errand, Bio-technician Uary Nearch of the Grand Errand, Contractor Kelat Hruska of the Hundredth Core.” Winema enunciated the names clearly, adding each traitor to the Memory.

“Ambassador Basq Hanr Sone of the Grand Errand?” asked Witness 20.

“No connection,” said Winema. “They have been using him as a cover and blind for their activities. He is guilty only of being unobservant.”

“Exile Jahidh Hanr Sone?”

“Still in operation on the Home Ground. Believed to be seeking and sorting useful artifacts in addition to delaying the Unifiers’ actions.”

The eyes blinked again. The delicate threads between the alcoves could not carry thoughts, but they could carry impressions. Their hunches ran from Witness to Witness like the electric current ran through the room, carried between the cameras using neurografted transmission wires that were even more sophisticated than Winema’s own. It was the closest the Vitae had been able to come to mastering telepathy.

“Which of these are necessary to the Reclamation in their current positions?” asked Witness 24.

“Uary Nearch, Kelat Hruska, Jahidh Hanr Sone.”

“Justify Jahidh Hanr Sone,” said Witness 1.

The camera eyes reflected Winema’s face and form twenty-four times as the Memory watched her carefully.

“His efforts discovered the artifact Stone in the Wall and began the understanding of the relationship between the mechanically derived and human-derived artifacts. He is motivated to make the final connection and it is highly likely he has leads into the truth that our Contractors and Ambassadors yet lack.”

The Memory absorbed her statement. The silence was a comforting weight on Winema. Her camera eye tracked the room. The lines between the alcoves glowed violet as the Memory communed with itself. She was being considered seriously.

“Recommend disposition of Caril Hanr Sone and Paral Idenam Or,” said Witness 10.

“It is my recommendation that they be collected publicly. This will slow current Imperialist activities within the Vitae Encampments. I further recommend that they be given to the Shessel World Enclave for their permanent exile in order to reinforce the impression of the Vitae’s willingness to cooperate fully in Quarter Galaxy civilization now that we have returned to the Home Ground. We will require resources and diplomatic connections until emigration and settlement is completed.”

The glow she saw with her right eye intensified. The camera eyes clicked back and forth as the Memory listened.

“The Memory concurs with this assessment,” said Witness 1. “Formal Witness Winema Avin-Dae Uratae, you are assigned to the collection of Caril Hanr Sone and Paral Idenam Or. The Memory shall transfer their new status to the Assembly.”

Winema closed her eyes and made full obeisance to the Memory.

Uary pressed the recorder sheet into the park wall and watched while the tidy lines of green text printed themselves across the milky grey surface. The park and the corridor were filled with the amber lights that created ship’s dawn. No shadows except his own crossed the wall and the only sound in the whole park was his breathing.

Technically, there was no punishment for writing anything in a public park. Technically, many things were true. Technically, by now he should have been smuggled onto Kethran and into an Imperialist lab, where the female artifact recovered from the Home Ground waited for him. Technically, Jahidh should have already mapped the relationship between the mechanically derived and human-derived artifacts on the Home Ground.

What is going wrong? We are the Rhudolant Vitae. We are the First Life. We are the architects of the Quarter Galaxy…He peeled the recorder sheet off the wall and rolled it into a tight cylinder. Optical matter flowed into the square where it had lain and solidified to become a section of blank wall. That is, of course, the problem. We’ve gotten so used to manipulating governments and corporations, we’ve forgotten that individuals will still work betrayal, and that our own land are capable of grotesque mistakes.

Our entire history is based on the fact that we were betrayed and we still forget to watch out for it.

The problem also was that now that events were truly moving and moving fast, there was no time for individual implications to sink in.

The Home Ground was not some far-off paradise anymore, but it wasn’t just a ruined hulk to be recolonized, either. There was technology there that had survived longer than the memory of its function had. The Vitae would learn to use it. Nothing could stop that, but the blind still prevailed in the Reclamation Assembly. They would not see that if the power was not directed outward from the beginning, it would turn inward. Those who were now Imperialists would find something closer to home to raise arms about. With knowledge of the Ancestors’ technology, the arms would draw more blood than words, and the blood would be Vitae. It would spill itself out while the rest of the Quarter Galaxy looked on in mild curiosity.

Uary turned on his heel and hurried back to the lift. Technically, Caril should come out of her quarters first, to see the new essay and know he would be waiting for her in the market, but Uary couldn’t risk Basq finding him there. If Basq knew Uary worked with the Imperialists, Basq would use that fact to get Uary removed from committee work, and then there was no telling who would be the one to examine the male artifact when it was brought in.

The markets opened whenever the ship was near enough to a settled planet for goods to be imported by shuttle from the surface. Temporary storage facilities were set up in the Grand Errand’s fifth level park to dispense the goods and record the sales. Residents who had their names entered on the subscription rosters could select goods from a posted list on their private terminals and have them delivered to their quarters rather than being required to come to the market. Depending on the world, there could be thirty or thirty-five different units that would need replenishing two and three times a day.

Kethran, however, had very little variety to offer the ship.

Barely a dozen boxy, silver vendors had been stationed between the park’s stages, easels, and terminals.

Uary strolled through the park. He paid no attention to the holographed dancers, or the green marble statue of a many-branched tree, or the single-phase abstract mosaic on display. He wandered from vendor to vendor, examining the meats and vegetables, and trying to discern how well the Vitae-induced strains were really adapting to Kethran’s environment. He selected several samples to be delivered to the lab so he could go over them in detail. The poultry did not seem to be as robust as it should, but then again, some of the Kethran distributors slighted Vitae procurers…

Caril, ever mindful of her position as dutiful Wife of a promoted Ambassador, breezed into the park with an air of total neutrality that would have done a Witness proud. She wound her way easily between the half a dozen other Wives, male and female, who mulled about the market space. She examined the food offerings with serious attention and a practiced eye before selecting delicacies for breakfast.

Uary sauntered along and waited until Caril was at a stall by herself before he crossed the park and stood beside her.

The parks were not safe, but they were safer than anywhere else on the Grand Errand. Word-of-mouth conversations were not truly safe, either, but, like the parks, they were safer than the alternatives.

“Good morning, Wife,” he said politely as he leaned over to select his own fruit. Whatever Uary thought of Basq, it was a matter of record and repetition he was always polite to Basq’s Wife and Beholden. “Not much of a selection today, I’m afraid.”

“Every little bit is a little bit more.” She sized up the contents of the tray with an appraising sweep of her eyes. “But it’s not adding up to enough, you’re right.” She turned over an apple, checking for bruises. “The war is real and if they’re primitive, they’re effective soldiers apparently, and all choosing up sides. The Unifiers haven’t armed them, but they’re still advising. Jahidh has done his job almost too well,” she said with a touch of irony. “It’s going to be very bloody, Uary, and too many resources are going to be wasted. The problem is, we don’t know enough to stop it. There is a possibility that genetic relatives of the female artifact will be located, but no word on how soon.”

“Kethran was a total debacle.” Uary rolled an apple between his fingers, feeling the tension of the skin. It was smooth, but perhaps a little too thick. That would make for a tart fruit as opposed to a sweet one. Uary made a mental note to find out if that was a deliberate or accidental variation. “But at least I’ve been assigned to analyze the male artifact.”

“Yes.” Caril prodded several more fruits. “That is an issue.”

Uary ran his fingers over another sample but his mind played her last sentence over again. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had word about that,” she said, leaning back and surveying the whole tray again. “The only race left that we have a hope of winning is the race for understanding. Anything you learn about the male artifact will pass into the hands of the blind. We can’t let them have it. We need to give the ones already on the ground a chance.”

Uary felt his heart begin to beat heavily as understanding seeped into his veins. “I can’t destroy the only artifact we have.”

Caril touched two apples and the stall’s arms extracted them from the holder to add to the bundle of purchases being assembled for her by the drone systems.

“You have to.”

Uary stared at the stack of apples. You have to. He had been telling himself that since he joined the Imperialists. You have to be independent of Outsider governments when it comes to acquisition of organic resources and raw materials or you could be denied what you need. You have to turn your power outward, or it will turn inward on you. You have to have a guiding vision or all that has been done since the Flight is meaningless, just another fragment of chaos in the universe.

But surely I do not have to destroy the work of the Ancestors.

Uary opened his mouth, but a flash of green caught his eye and the words died before he could form them. Winema, the Formal Witness he had selected to be assigned to Basq, stood in the hullward entrance to the park. Basq was nowhere to be seen.

Caril tracked his gaze around to the Witness and froze. She was not the only one. All the Wives in the park had turned to single-phase statues at the sight of the unaccompanied Witness.

Winema moved with unhurried strides through the tableau until she stood six inches from Caril. Her silicate hand reached out and gripped the Wife’s wrist.

“Wife Caril Hanr Sone, you are held in the eyes of the Memory for activities counter to the dictates of the Assembly and the laws of the Vitae and for directly endangering the effort of the Reclamation.”

Uary knew that last sight of Caril would stay with him for a long time. She drew herself up straight and proud. The Witness walked toward the park entrance and Caril walked with her, falling into step at her side, both eyes straight ahead, ignoring everything, including her captor.

She left Uary standing by the apple stall, with a piece of fruit still in his fingers, too stunned to remember he also had appearances to keep up. His heart fluttered frantically in his rib cage. When the Witness spoke Caril’s sentence, her organic eye had been fixed on Caril, but her camera lens had been fixed on Uary.

Did they know of their connection? How could they not know? But if they did know, why had they taken her and left him with that last vision and the echo of her final, almost-heretical instructions.

Destroy the work of the Ancestors? Uary wanted to collapse under the weight of that thought. He remembered when he saw the initial analysis of the female artifact. He’d gone into the chapel and said all six Graces. Her construction was flawless, flawless! And the spheres she carried were more alive than she was. They were perfect, immortal, biological constructions, irreplaceable parts of a system he could only start to guess at. He’d cursed out loud when he heard that she had escaped Kethran. Even though it would have brought Basq all the prestige even he could dream of, Uary wouldn’t have cared if the Ambassador had succeeded in bringing her back, just so long as Uary could work with her again. There was so much to understand, so much that could be learned if only he could get the time.

Analysis of the male would be good, of course, and useful, and interesting in its own right, but the female…with her, they might learn how the Aunorante Sangh had defeated even the Ancestors and then…and then…

Something damp drizzled across his fingers and Uary came to himself with a start. He had crushed the apple in his hand. Its juice dripped out around his fingertips and across his palm. He dropped the fruit and hastily ordered the stall to deliver it to the lab along with the rest of his samples.

Uary made his own way to the lab wrapped in a private fog. Destroy the one artifact they had in their hands. How could he? Yes, the Reclamation had been accelerated. Yes, within a few dozen hours, they would have their pick of samples, technically. But who knew who would be assigned to those samples, and who knew how long analysis would take? Yes, Jahidh reported a lead he could follow for himself, but still, who knew how long that would take either? They needed to begin now, in this hour, with this sample that they already had some baseline data for.

The Witnesses had already taken Caril away. If he destroyed the artifact, they’d take him, too.

The sounds of voices and mechanical activity pulled Uary up short a bare millimeter before he collided with the lab door. The automatic reader had been shut off. Uary impatiently laid his hand against the palm reader.

The doorway cleared to reveal his Beholden swarming between the tanks and terminals that made up the lab’s equipment. The lab had been designed around an array of analysis vats. The central holding tank was an elongated oval large enough to hold a full-grown Shessel. The side closest to the lab entrance was clear, so a support capsule could be placed right alongside the tank. The side toward the hull held the holding tank’s monitors and also allowed pipes to feed into three smaller tanks that could dispense the analysis gel and any additional chemicals the work might require.

Lairdin, an amputant with a missing ear whom Uary had appointed his supervisor, was helping two students drain what smelled like fresh sterilizer out of the central holding tank. The gel oozed into the reconfiguration tank, where any stray bacteria or biological waste could be filtered out while the main holding tank was readied for the next subject.

“Can you believe it, Bio-technician?” Lairdin said happily. Uary had accepted her contract because of her precise grasp of neurotransmitter configuration. Since then he had learned to ignore her atrocious manners. “I owe the Ancestors at least four of the Graces for this.”

Uary took in the bustling activity, none of which he had ordered. “What am I being asked to believe now, Supervisor?”

Lairdin’s hands froze halfway to the tank’s keypad. “You didn’t replay my message? The system told me it was received.”

Uary shook open the recorder sheet and pressed it against the wall. Immediately, it displayed a recording of Lairdin’s face.

“Bio-technician Uary,” said the recording, “we have received a transmission from the contraband runner, Tasa Ad, who states he has recovered the female artifact Stone in the Wall. The Bridge liaison says the Captain himself has cleared the ship for access to a docking clamp for cargo transfer. I will prepare the lab immediately.”

Shock raced down Uary’s spine and rooted him to the floor. The female artifact Recovered and on the way to the Grand Errand. Where not ten minutes ago he’d received orders to destroy the only other artifact in his possession.

“Technician?” said Lairdin. “The first artifact is reported to have been unloaded seven minutes ago. It’ll be arriving any minute. Do you want to prepare the terminals?”

Atrocious, atrocious manners. Uary ripped the recorder sheet out of the wall and dropped it back into the rack. “Yes.”

He sat behind the analysis board and began shuffling its pads. There weren’t many lines to open. He needed his personal observations of the female artifact and the stones, Basq’s records, and the raw information on the male artifact. Uary eyed Lairdin and the other Beholden. The supervisor was bustling around the lab, making sure everything was in order, prying into every detail, except the Bio-technician’s private terminal. Even she was not that rude. He felt watched anyway, by the Witness he could not see, and by the fact that under the board lay a hidden line to Caril’s own terminal. He would have to remove it as soon as he was alone again.

Whenever that would be.

Uary laid his hand on the notepad and curled his fingers inward as if the pad was a sheet of polymer that he could crumple up and toss aside.

What was he supposed to do? Destroy the female? Smash the stones? Place all hopes on the possibility that Jahidh, untrained, rebellious Jahidh, might be able to find another complete component like Aria Stone? The Imperialists planned to continue trusting that child with the work of the Ancestors?

What were the Imperialists doing? What were they thinking? They were as bad as the blind ones in the Assembly! This was no longer some distant, objective possibility. This was happening as they spoke. The knowledge of the Ancestors, lost because of the Flight, was being delivered into their hands and they could still leave orders for its destruction.

It was no help that part of him knew they were right. The only race the Imperialists could still win was the race to understand the artifacts. It was the last one that mattered, and the Imperialists would lose if he did not stand in the Assembly’s way.

Individuals can still betray. Uary forced the thought away and bent over the keys again.

Concentrate, he ordered himself.

He needed to be careful how he managed this. Two dozen other Bio-technicians and their Beholden waited for him to begin siphoning the raw data and rough conclusions he gleaned from the study of the artifacts. They would filter all they received even farther down, focus on their own areas of expertise, replicate each others’ analyses, and then funnel their results back into the main datastore, where the revelations could be organized, integrated, and returned to him. The subcommittees would work in shifts around the clock to understand the artifacts, but the first analysis was his. For a few brief hours, Uary had the artifacts to himself.

He did not like to think about the fact that he had Basq’s political maneuvering to thank for that. He was quite sure Basq didn’t either. But Uary was the Bio-tech for Basq’s committee. If Basq was assigned to the recovery of the artifacts, so was Uary.

Uary opened the connections from his datastore to the secondary storage that could be tapped by the other Bio-techs. He did it carefully, introducing small flaws into the lines’ controls. He couldn’t hide completely, but he could delay. He could be a little slow in filtering the gathered data from his private store to the committee-accessible store. The lines could require extra processing time because of the volume and complexity of the data. The ship-to-ship transmitters could have difficulty finding open channels that would guarantee that the packages would arrive intact. These little things could be made to add up.

I only hope they will add up long enough for me to decide what to do.

The rush of the door opening jerked his head up. A bizarre procession crossed the lab’s threshold. Two Internship Ambassadors flanked the support capsule like an honor guard. Behind them marched Basq, shoulders back and eyes straight ahead. Uary wondered what he was hiding behind his propriety. Was it triumph? Or was it despair at the fact he had lost his Wife to the Imperialist cause, just as he had lost his son?

The Witness matched Basq’s stride without mimicking any of his attitude. Her camera lens tracked across the room until it settled on Uary. Involuntarily, he looked away.

Uary got to his feet as his Beholden made obeisance to the parade. He did not look at Basq. He rounded the corner of his terminal and leaned across the capsule’s transparent lid. The artifact lay stiff and still from the tranquilizers being delivered into its system. Uary checked the monitors on the capsule’s sides. Any outside observer would see the readings and think this was a Human from a world with the upper end of tolerable gravity and a rather thick atmosphere. Anybody who hadn’t seen inside the bruised and sun-damaged skin would think that. Anybody who didn’t know this was a legacy from their Ancestors.

“I will remain here and watch while you siphon what we need from him,” announced Basq, “to make sure nothing is lost this time.” He sat in one of the observation chairs. “We have very little time available. You’ll begin siphoning him at once.”

Uary turned toward him and he knew Basq and the Witness both saw the fury on his face. Never mind that, even after what happened at the market, and even though he knew the ships were on their way to the populated section of the Home Ground. This was his place, not Basq’s, never Basq’s.

“I will first be creating an overall map of his physical structure in its functioning state, making a particular note of the anomalies that are sure to be present,” he said, using a frozen tone he wouldn’t have disposed on the worst Beholden. “We will extract samples from the tissues, bones, and organs for cloning and close study in isolation. Using that data, we will begin designing a series of retroviruses that can be used to insert marker proteins for a comprehensive genetic analysis. Then, and only then, will we be prepared to begin a program of neurochemical stimulation to analyze the working system in detail. You may sit there and watch if you wish to, but you had better send for someone to bring you meals and bedding. This will take days.”

“You do not have days,” said Basq. “We need to understand how this artifact functions as soon as possible. Do I have to contact our team leader to reinforce this?”

Uary did nothing for a moment but concentrate on breathing.

“You can do what you want,” he said. “I will do what this investigation requires.” Uary turned his back on Basq. “Supervisor Lairdin, you will calibrate the tank to capture the preliminary physical map of the artifact.”

He could almost feel the heat of Basq’s anger against his shoulder blades. He did hear the swish of Basq’s robes as the Ambassador strode over to the intercom. Uary did not look at him. His Beholden scrambled around the main holding tank, setting the specifications using the available data on Eric Born. The side tanks pumped refreshed analysis gels back into the main unit. Uary waved the Intership Ambassadors away from the sides of the support capsule. He checked the monitors one more time to make sure the artifact was in a stable condition. Lairdin positioned herself at the capsule’s foot and her intern, Cierc, took his place at the head.

Uary shut the power off and snapped the catches on the cover. It swung back and Uary leapt out of the way. Lairdin and Cierc grabbed the handles of the inner structure and swiftly lifted Born and his support tubes out of the capsule and plunged the entire structure into the gel-filled holding tank.

Uary thrust his arms into sterile gloves and then into the gel. Needles had to be inserted in the artifact’s skin and veins. He laid monitor pads on its temples, wrists, throat, and chest. He attached feed lines to the tubes already in place to allow for chemical and viral transmission.

When the last needle was in place, Uary lifted his arms away and held them over the artifact, dripping globs of gel into the holding tank.

“Status?” he barked.

Lairdin ran her fingers over the tank’s monitor screens. “Sample is stable. Support functions optimal. Feeds clear and ready.”

“Bio-technician Uary,” called Basq. “Ambassador Ivale wishes to speak with you directly.”

Uary stripped off his gloves and dropped them into the cleaner on the side of the holding tank. “Start taking static baseline measurements,” he said to Lairdin. Every drop of data would help.

“Ambassador Ivale.” Uary positioned himself in front of the screen. The Ambassador stood calmly on the other end of the line, but Uary had the feeling Ivale was not prepared to hear anything he had to say. “I must caution against haste. If we try to understand the system before we understand the structure, we risk damaging the artifact before we’ve acquired the information that we really need.”

“Ordinarily I would agree with you, Bio-technician,” said Ivale, “but events are proceeding and we cannot be slow. You are to get what information you can from the artifact regarding the nature and function of its extramechanical abilities. You will use the same criteria in conducting your analysis of the female artifact when it arrives. These are the most pertinent to the Reclamation. We have less than twenty hours before the Second Company lands in the populated segment.”

“You hold my name, Ambassador,” Uary said. “We’ll begin now.”

The Ambassador closed the line and Uary forced his attention to his Beholden waiting by the tank. What Ivale didn’t know, of course, was that he had just played straight into the Imperialists’ hands. It was now a matter of record that Uary had been told to circumvent protocol and put the artifacts at risk.

Now he had his pick of ways to destroy the work of the Ancestors. There was too much that could go wrong with living cells. Too much that shifted and recombined. Too many factors had to be accounted for, no matter how great the capacity of the computer that oversaw the job and ran the projections. There were hints that the Ancestors had worked with living cells and living organisms like Engineers worked with ceramic and steel and with results that were just as steady and predictable. The Vitae were the best genetic engineers the Quarter Galaxy had to offer, but their Ancestors had been better. How they had performed their miracles was beyond Uary. It was beyond anybody. It had been stolen by the Aunorante Sangh. He regarded the artifact’s face, immobile behind the oxygen mask.

And I thought I’d be its rescuer. I thought I’d be able to force this artifact, this Aunorante Sangh, to give it all back.

Uary wet his lips as he sat down at his own terminal. Maybe I can still get some of it.

“Normally, by the time we begin investigating a biological system, we return the sample to an active state.” Uary reconfigured the board to bring his private notes onto the display.

“No,” Basq announced. “Not this one. You’ve seen the reports. We cannot risk it being able to use its…extramechanical abilities.”

There was an older word for it, but Uary knew Basq would not let himself be heard talking about anything so primitive and superstitious as telekinesis, even if it was a marvel engineered by the Ancestors.

“Very well,” Uary said, “but if we cannot trace any activity in its resting state to those ‘extramechanical abilities’, then we will have to wake it up.”

“Lairdin"—Uary opened the line between his terminal and the tank—"make sure its support signs remain stable and watch particularly for any rise in system temperature.”

By way of answer, Lairdin stationed herself in front of the monitors, like a conductor waiting to give the orchestra its signal.

Basq came and stood behind his right shoulder. The Witness stood behind his left. Uary felt his skin crawl but repressed the sensation. There was work to do and that made it easier. He laid in the primary search commands and moved the ACTIVATE key into position.

Catheters swam down the needles into the artifact’s veins. Its blood flowed into pipettes lowered by the delivery tubes. The pads gripped it and measured the type and level of electrochemical activity in its body. The analysis gel, an outgrowth of the organic chip technology, pressed close to its skin, creeping through its pores. The neurochemical reactions the gel encountered would rearrange its protein configuration. The changes would be replicated along its molecular chains. When the terminals analyzed the gel, they would produce a map of neurological activity, beginning at the epidermis and ending at the bone.

Analysis and simulations performed on samples of the artifacts’ DNA and RNA that had been obtained while it was under a Vitae contract had yielded five separate neurotransmitters that were thought to be involved in the generation and projection of the telekinesis. Locating their point of origin should not be difficult. Even so, this was no simple matter of matching chemicals to their receptors in the cells. The artifact’s synaptic layout had to have been redesigned from first principles that were vastly different from those that gave birth to the naturally born human race.

The differences should be quiescent while the artifact was unconscious. A telekinetic that wrecked havoc when it had nightmares would not be a useful tool. While the telekinetic receptors were quiescent, they would be next to invisible. There would be no choice but to apply stimulation. Which could quite easily terminate the artifact, as no proper analysis of the gel had been done yet.

But it did not necessarily have to terminate it quickly.

Raw data, little more than numbers and labels, flashed across Uary’s screen. Most of it flitted directly to storage to await further organization, but the levels and concentrations of the targeted neurotransmitters stayed in a tidy column on the left-hand side of the screen.

Uary frowned. The numbers were much higher than any that had turned up in the simulations conducted on the artifact’s blood samples.

And they were increasing.

“Bio-tech!” called Lairdin.

Uary vaulted out of his chair and ran to the tank. Inside, the gel churned around the artifact. Waves and whirlpools pressed against the lid and washed against the sides. Moisture appeared around the seals and a moment later the overload alarms began to shrill. Uary’s gaze swept the monitors. The numbers and levels jumped and flickered, fast, and faster, and far too fast.

“Get the neutralizer in!” he shouted. “Shut it down! Shut it down!”

They moved. Even Basq was bright enough to see something was out of control and the Ambassador dodged out of the way as Lairdin raced to the holding tanks and slammed down the key for the pumps. With a chugging that should not have been there, the siphons fought to drain the roiling gel. The pumps flooded in a saline and anesthetic medium as a replacement. It coated the artifact and the alarms quieted.

Uary looked up into Lairdin’s frightened eyes.

“What happened?” Basq demanded. His voice rasped in his throat.

“Ask the Ancestors,” snapped Uary. “Lairdin, what’s the status of the gel?” His robes swirled around his ankles as he hurried back to his terminal.

He drew out the data as fast as he could read it. It was a jumble of numbers and statistical ranges, concentration levels and a few sketchy diagrams. There was nothing to compare any of it to. There was no way to tell what was normal and what was abnormal, or what reaction had triggered the telekinetic processes.

“Bio-technician,” said Lairdin, “the gel has been… damaged.”

She touched a key and Uary looked reflexively down at his own screen as the new data appeared. His knees buckled and he sat down hard in his chair.

The gel was not just damaged, it was shredded. Molecular chains had been disintegrated. Cells had burst. Clusters of infant tumors were appearing throughout the holding tank.

The artifact had all but destroyed four cubic meters of gel in less than twenty seconds, and there was no way to tell how it had begun.

Uary lifted his head. “We are going to have to wake it up.”

“No,” said Basq flatly.

“Then we can go no farther.” Uary folded his hands. “I have nothing to work with. I have no pattern of brain activity. I have no baseline neurochemical activity for the active state. I do not know what the normal status of the artifact is, so I cannot tell what initiated the telekinetic, your pardon, Ambassador,” he said bitterly, “the ‘extramechanical abilities.’ I do not know the system. Without even a partial map, I cannot understand anything.”

Uary sat back, prepared to wait until the ship fell apart around them.

“Have your Beholden uncouple all the comm lines to the outside,” said Basq. “We must observe total computer and biological quarantine procedures. There cannot be a single physical link between this room and the rest of the ship. If we run this risk, it must be just us.”

A feeling that was almost respect surfaced in Uary. At least Basq carried his need for notoriety through to the end. If he was witnessed doing any less than this, it would of course be shameful, but he put that thought far ahead of his personal safety. Uary had seen the recordings of Born breaking open the door and of him tapping the private network. There was a real danger to them all if Born could break open the holding tank.

Well, they would just have to make it dangerous for him to try.

“Lairdin, place the artifact on complete life-support. Make sure that we are responsible for its physical existence. If it does manage to damage the systems, it will simply terminate itself.”

Before I have to, he added silently, and he realized he was cherishing that exact hope.

Unexpectedly, the Witness spoke. “I must download what has happened here before the lines are closed.”

“Cierc, you will assist the Witness,” said Uary. He turned his attention to his own work.

All the systems needed to be put into independent mode. That meant shuffling operations around, cutting some functions and making sure there was enough storage space for the data to accumulate. Even with the help of the prompts that began as soon as he initiated quarantine procedures, it was a painstaking business.

But it was finally finished. The proper superiors were notified. The doors were shut and locked by hand and every instrument was physically separated from its links to the ship outside. Uary glanced at the monitors again. The artifact was still quiescent and the neutralizing gel was undisturbed.

“Restore active state,” he said.

The monitors showed the stimulants flowing into the system. The response was good. Steady and not too fast. Normal orientation in five…four…three…

The monitor went dead.

“Systems check!” he snapped. The Beholden jumped and Basq sucked in a breath.

The lights went out next, and the backups did not come on.

“Aunorante Sangh,” murmured Basq.

Uary did not bother to respond. He groped under the edge of the counter until he found the emergency handlight and pulled it out of its holder. The beam showed that everyone had had the sense to hold still.

The monitors on the tank itself still had power. They glowed eerily in the darkness, as did the tank. The artifact lay totally immobile inside, and the gel around him was undisturbed.

Uary shuffled the board keys with his free hand, but the terminal did not respond. He was barely aware that Lairdin had cleared a space in the wall and was working on the lights. A flicker made him blink. Lairdin fell backward, centimeters ahead of a shower of sparks as, against all specifications and parameters, some circuit burned out.

Uary’s terminal screen flared with sudden light. Three words printed themselves across it.

LEAVE ME ALONE.

Basq stood at Uary’s shoulder, his cheeks hollow with shadow and fear.

“Can we answer it?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” said Uary slowly. He sketched the artifact’s name on the notepad. Nothing happened. “We have to shut off its life-support. Terminate it.”

“No,” said Basq fervently. “We need to tame it.”

Uary turned on him. “And how are we to do that?”

“Outnumber it. All it has had to do so far is trip a few switches. If we all work to regain control of the instruments, it will have to fight us all, repeatedly. We will wear it out.”

“It could be possible.” Sense is the last thing I expected from you, Basq, but I’m glad it’s come. Uary hesitated. To keep the artifact alive even a few minutes longer would be a hideous risk, but as long as it was in the tank the monitors were recording its reactions. If they could find out what it took to overload its telekinetic processes, they would have a real weapon against its counterparts on the Home Ground.

And Uary would have the work of the Ancestors under his eye that much longer.

“Ambassador.” Uary stepped aside. “Take over the terminal. My Beholden and I will work directly on the tank. Witness…” Uary hesitated. One did not give orders to a Witness.

“The communications consoles will be my area.” She cleared the optical matter above the comm boards with deft hands. “We can flood the lab’s interior lines with data.”

Uary was vaguely aware that he was now fighting the first battle with the Aunorante Sangh that had taken place since the Ancestors had taken flight, and nobody outside the lab even knew it was happening. They checked, changed, restarted, and rerouted. It burned, closed, crashed, and jammed. The lab was well stocked with spare parts and every system had backups to its backups. Uary did not like emergencies. They were half a dozen and the artifact was only one and it didn’t know the systems. It would have to tire. It would have to collapse.

Except it didn’t. Everywhere they went, it was already there. Its power gripped the entire lab and shut them outside, leaving them standing helplessly in the middle of their equipment.

Its heart rate didn’t even flutter. It seemed to expend no energy and all the battle took it no effort. It could keep it up until the ship fell apart, and it was still perfectly calm, perfectly regulated.

Uary wanted to throw his head back and laugh at the absurdities. Of course it was, because the tank was keeping it that way. He’d issued the order himself. Total life-support. The tank would feed Born what it needed to keep itself calm and healthy. As long as it was inside the tank, it could do anything and feel no strain.

“It’s reached the comm system,” said the Witness. “It is transmitting, and the terminal is responding.”

“How!” shouted Basq.

How!? repeated Uary in his own frantic mind. They had physically cut…

The line to Caril. His Beholden had physically cut the comm lines and they had missed his line to Caril. But who would there be to answer it?

“The female artifact,” said the Witness as if she read his mind. “The delivery was a ruse. We have to open the doors. We must warn the Captain.”

“No!” Uary laid his hands on the life-support commands. “All we have to do is get it out of the tank, Lairdin…”

“Stop!” thundered the Witness.

Uary and his Beholden froze.

“It has the air supply.”

Basq got to the Witness’s side one step ahead of Uary. The monitor’s message had changed.

I HAVE BURNED OUT THE EVACUATION CIRCUIT. ALL THAT IS HOLDING IT CLOSED IS ME. IF I AM FORCED TO LET GO THE ROOM WILL BE IN VACUUM IN LESS THAN FIFTEEN SECONDS.

Uary cursed. “It even knows the time.”

“Part of the quarantine measures?” inquired the Witness.

Uary nodded. “A last precaution.”

Cierc wiped a huge swath of optical matter away from the wall to reveal a carbonized juncture in the fiber optics. “It’s not bluffing.”

“Suits!” ordered Basq.

Cierc, closest to the emergency locker, broke the seal and swung the door back. Uary walked calmly but quickly to his side, as he’d been drilled to do all his life. Get in the suit, close the seals, check the…

The suits lay in crumbled heaps on the locker floor. Each helmet seal had been burned through. The carbon stench drifted up from them.

Cierc swallowed. “The locker has an optical matter backing. It must have got through…”

Because I listened to Basq. Because I wanted to have it in my hands a few minutes longer. Because I had a hidden line to Caril…

“Then we die,” said Basq.

“WHAT?” cried Cierc.

“We die.” Basq stood like a statue of himself. “We cut the power to the tank. We cannot permit its confederates to rescue this thing alive. It knows enough to mount a pitched battle against us, and win. It knows the private technologies. We will lose the Home Ground if it survives.”

Uary tried to find the flaw in Basq’s reasoning, but there was none. There was no other way. If the artifacts understood too much, the Vitae would lose to them, again.

“I’ll do it.” Even though the Witness would not survive to transmit this, he felt better saying it to her.

He heard Basq whisper Caril’s name and realized he could have his revenge now if he wanted it. Before they died he could tell Basq that his son was alive and working for the Imperialists, and that Caril had been in touch with him ever since he had “vanished.” He could do it, now that they were dead and the Witness with them.

Uary looked at Basq and decided it was enough that he knew. Basq could join the Lineage ignorant.

The room shook. It rattled and pitched wildly and a wind rushed through it.

Wind? Uary sat up and dazedly wondered how he had come to be on the floor.

The wind died as abruptly as it started. Lairdin sprawled on the floor. Red liquid smeared around her. And her face was gone.

White foam filled the gap in the outer wall. Something shoved through it. A door. An airlock. Uary couldn’t hear. The Witness wasn’t moving. There was blood everywhere. The airlock opened and a figure in a vacuum suit walked into the lab. Behind the suited person walked an android. The android spoke. Uary saw its mouth move. He couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. The suited one spoke, turned toward the Witness and grabbed her by the arm. The Witness said nothing. She didn’t even flinch. The suited figure dropped her.

The figure turned toward him. Now he could see it was a woman. It was the female artifact and her mouth was moving. He put his hand to his ear automatically and it came away covered in red.

The android was speaking and Cierc teetered to his feet.

“No!” Uary hoped he shouted but Cierc still closed the monitor lines in the tank. The needles and catheters and pipettes extracted themselves. Nothing happened. Nothing happened. The android lifted the artifact free from the tank and carried it to the airlock.

The suited artifact followed, then stopped and crossed to the inner door. Uary tried to get to his feet and fell back. Pain finally broke through the shock. The artifact looked the door over. She threw the manual locks open and shoved the door back. She bent close to Uary and he could see her mouth move.

Run, she was telling him. Run!

He couldn’t even stand. He scrabbled across the floor. The Beholden grabbed him and hauled him forward. He saw figures. Emergency crews. He turned. The artifact and the android were through their airlock and he had time to see it yank itself away from the sealing foam before the lab door slammed shut.

He sagged into the arms of a stranger while the emergency team buzzed around them. Hands grabbed him. Sat him down. Twisted his neck to look at his ear. The technician was an amputant, he saw, with only four fingers on the hand that pressed the anesthetic patch against his wrist.

We had them, he thought Wearily as the pain began to fade. We had them. Now I understand. Now I really understand how the Ancestors could have lost to these things.

He hoped the Assembly would let him live long enough to tell them what he knew.