Reclamation

3—The Hundredth Core Encampment, Hour 11:34:25, Core Time

Whatever else, I was honest. I held to the terms of my contract. Whatever judgment they make against me, it will not be for breaking my word.

The thought did nothing to warm Basq. In truth, the chill hadn’t left his blood since he’d reported the loss of the artifacts. He sat stiffly in the shuttle’s padded seat, hands spread on his knees. The robe that covered him was pure white, a color that allowed no status, no allegiance, and no work.

“You do not have to wear this,” said Caril, even though she got it out for him with her own hands instead of leaving it to the automatics.

“I do. Eric Born was my study. The security of him and the other artifacts was my responsibility.” Basq could still feel the rough edges of the shattered bolts under his fingertips.

“The Contractors will not say it was a breach. They will see there is no way you could have known. All the evidence indicated that he manipulated datastreams, not hardware.”

The memories of Caril’s reassurances didn’t offer Basq any more warmth than preening himself for his honorable behavior had. His study of Eric Born had contributed directly to the rediscovery of the Home Ground. The promotions that had followed had been exhilarating. He had been able to tell himself that memory of his past shame had been wiped away by this success.

Do I have the strength to defend myself again? Do I have the means?

Basq felt his whole body slump farther down in the seat. I don’t know.

The view wall in front of him showed the gleaming length of tether stretching out to its anchor on the encampment’s core. Outsiders compared Rhudolant Vitae encampments to spiderwebs or jewels on strings, depending on how they felt toward the Vitae at the moment. For this gathering, fifteen white and mirror-skinned ships had been moored to the elongated core. Each ship was tethered to its neighbors as well as to the core with bundles of polycarbon cable. When a current was applied, the strands maintained a crystal-fiber structure that allowed the tether to remain rigid. The core’s rotation kept the ships at an even distance from each other and kept all the tethers taut.

If the current was cut, the tethers could fray and tear, sending the ships careening out into space.

Basq realized, with a small jolt, why he was brooding on them. He felt as if his tethers had already been torn.

At this distance, Basq could see the curve of the core’s mottled side. As the shuttle slid forward along the tether, it looked to Basq as if the core expanded. The curved side became a gleaming wall that blocked out the vacuum and the starlight. Modules and antennae, some more than a kilometer across, rose from a surface of smooth ceramic, but most of the surface was covered with the hulks of tanks. Tanks for fuel and coolant and hydrogen and nitrogen and all the other essentials that needed to be carried with them between the worlds. Like the home ships, the core was fully mobile, if slow compared to the freighters and runners that clung to its sides between the tanks and the tethers.

Basq glanced toward the rear of the shuttle, in the direction of his ship, the Grand Errand. He did not move his hand to switch on the view wall that would let him see it.

They will not let me go home again.

Eric Born and the female were too important for any Contractor to let this matter go. The Home Ground was at stake. His failure might have delayed the Vitae’s chance to fully return.

The gravity and inertial regulators adjusted themselves so that Basq could feel the shuttle slowing. The view wall showed the docking corridor extending itself from the core to lock onto the shuttle’s hatch. Basq stood and smoothed the fabric of his white robe.

Now the real work begins. The invocation sounded in his mind before he could stop it.

The docking corridor led straight into the Home Hall. Basq stepped through the arch into the domed chamber. All around him, simulated constellations blazed on a black background. A sun the size of his head burned to the left. Directly opposite, the blue-and-white swell of the Home Ground filled the entire wall. Rising behind it, a grey moon caught the sunlight. Farther off, planets shone as coins of light, or thumbnails, or pinpricks.

Terra, Luna, Ares, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune. Beginning with the Home Ground, he recited the names he’d learned as a childhood litany. His eyes picked out each patch of light as he named it. The Home Ground. The Host System. All of it lost to the grip of the Aunorante Sangh, the ones who’d been bred to serve and had betrayed their trust. Beware your own creations, Vitae. They have already robbed you.

How many times have I heard that? How many times have I repeated it? And when the time comes…

A tiny breeze told him the door had opened. Basq turned to see the two Contractors walk forward. Avir, with her chestnut hair braided so it hung down the back of her midnight-colored tunic, looked Basq over with critical eyes surrounded by star-shaped scars. Black-robed Kelat, who stood beside her, was a member of the Amputants. He had only four fingers on his right hand. He would not have the missing one regrown unless and until he walked on the Home Ground. Basq bent in obeisance until his forehead pressed against the smooth, warm floor. These two held his name.

“Please get up, Ambassador Basq,” said Contractor Avir.

Basq’s heart skipped a beat. Used my title. Then they don’t consider my contract broken yet. He lifted his head.

Kelat nodded once. “No code or lock currently in place could have kept the artifact designated Eric Born confined if he wanted to escape. You are not at fault. You fulfilled your contracted duties to the level of the available resources and information. We do not need to continue this audience. You are required at the strategy conference.” In unison, the Contractors turned and glided into the corridor.

Basq raised himself to his feet and trailed behind them, half-dazed.

Not at fault. Not at fault. The words sang inside him. For a moment, the idea flashed through him that the singing was loud enough for Caril to hear.

Multiphase frescoes lined the corridor walls. Each depicted a sequence from the Flight, moment blending into moment so that the blur of history surrounded Basq and the Contractors as they passed. At Basq’s right side, an Aunorante Sangh bowed to a crowd of people, then leaned over a control bank. The scene twisted and dissolved into a shower of sparks. To his left, a trio of Survivors crowded around a ship’s empty data-hold and raised their fists to the sky, then they bent to their work, growing old and older until, at last, fresh generations took their place. Beyond that, a globe of the Home Ground rotated serenely. Clouds shifted across its surface and, in a heartbeat, it vanished.

The only single-phase art was held in the ceiling mosaic that spelled out the names of the Home Ground in the oldest languages the Vitae knew.

At the end of the corridor, the wall parted to let them into the conference room.

The Contractors completed the committee. Two Bio-technicians, two Historians, and two Senior Ambassadors already sat at the round table. Basq recognized Uary, the Bio-tech who had been assigned to study the “stones” carried by the female artifact. Uary raised his sculpted eyebrows briefly as their eyes met.

You didn’t expect to see me again, thought Basq. Well, in truth, I didn’t expect you to see me again either.

The robes of all the people around the table were the solid unbroken colors of their specialties, amethyst, scarlet or mist grey. No bands or sigils indicated subranks or allegiance owed to anyone else. These were all encampment leaders and residents of the core. Two Witnesses in their jade green robes stood at the back of the room and watched the gathering. Each wore a camera set over the right eye, giving their faces a distorted, unnatural appearance.

The doors sealed themselves, but privacy did not thaw the air of formality as Basq had expected. Avir and Kelat bowed briefly to the committee. Basq again made full obeisance at their feet, waiting for his name and work to be made known.

Avir spoke first. “I am named Contractor Avir Ose Cien and let the memory show I have been appointed to speak for Advisory Committee 196. Contractor Kelat is our liaison with Advisory Committee 84. Here we speak of the Reclamation of the Home Ground. All we say here will be known as long as Vitae ask ‘in those days, what was done?’, ‘What course did they take to succeed?’ or ‘What course did they take to fail?’ This committee has been convened to advise the Reclamation Assembly about the action required to secure the populated segment of the Home Ground. To further that end, to this committee I bring the work and name of Ambassador Basq of the Grand Errand.” Basq stood with his shoulders straight and his face calm, as he had learned to do during his apprenticeship. “His observations gave us a great deal of information about the artifacts that still exist on the Home Ground. It is my intention to contract his services fully to the work of this committee and the Reclamation.”

Basq’s heart began to pound against his ribs. To the Reclamation? Directly? Me? My hands? My work? His mouth felt dry. Fear and elation warred inside him. If this happened, his name would be witnessed and remembered for his success, or his failure.

No, I will rise to this. My work will be my seal. My words, my thoughts will be remembered with pride when we walk on the Home Ground.

One of the Historians, a withered woman with silver droplets dangling from her pierced ears and chin, waved two fingers to indicate she was about to speak. “What would be the requirements of that contract?”

Basq fought to keep his eyes straight ahead. He was not present yet. He had been named but not been accepted. To indicate that he could hear what was said about him would have been to admit he cared more about himself than about the work he would be assigned.

Kelat spoke with measured tones. “He will use the data gathered from his observations of the artifacts designated Eric Born and Stone in the Wall combined with the information gathered by Bio-technician Uary and Ambassador Ivale to assess the level of danger presented by the artifacts that exist on the Home Ground and to determine an effective strategy for combating that danger.”

From the corner of his eye, Basq could see Uary’s gaze rest on him. The set of the Bio-tech’s face spoke of resentment. Anger sparked in Basq, but he did not move his eyes to look directly at Uary. The Witnesses also had their eyes on him. He would not begin his remembered existence with such disregard for proprieties.

Ivale was as bald and slender as Basq, but even seated, he towered over the rest of the committee by fifteen centimeters. “Contractors Avir and Kelat, how long have you held Basq’s name?”

“By time measured in the Hundredth Core, five years, ten months, four days, and seven hours. Renewals have been specifically requested four times,” said Avir

Ivale nodded and opened his mouth again, but Uary signaled for speaking time.

“I have a security issue,” he said as Avir acknowledged him.

“Please outline this issue, Bio-technician Uary.” There was an edge in Avir’s words. Basq suppressed a smile. Uary had been the one to discover the genetic evidence in Eric Born’s blood that had solidified Basq’s claim that Born had come from the Home Ground. As a result, Uary’s words carried weight, but evidently, not that much.

“Basq permitted Stone in the Wall to regain the composite globes she carried and use them as weapons. He is thus directly responsible for the loss of the human-derived artifacts as well as the globes. I submit that the Ambassador does not know enough about the artifacts to make real-time predictions of their behavior or provide adequate compensation for such behavior.”

So that is why your eyes burn, thought Basq. I lost you those globes.

“Further,” Uary went on, “it is still unknown why the floor restraints were not activated soon enough to prevent their loss.”

“A true statement and a fair issue,” said Kelat.

Basq almost broke then, to make obeisance to the Contractors, to shout it had been a mistake and there would be no repetition. Do not deny me this chance. Do not remove me from this work. Fear underscored the thoughts, because the issue was real and the criticism too well deserved.

Trust those who hold your name. Trust that they have seen this, too. Trust that they have an answer, Basq told himself firmly, but another, older, ever-present fear began to crawl into his thoughts. No. Even Uary would not try to hold me accountable for Jahidh.

Avir nodded in agreement with Kelat. “But let it be remembered alongside the facts regarding Ambassador Basq that you authorized the release of the globes to Ambassador Basq without providing proper security or oversight of their disposition. The video record of the transaction shows that you sent only one Intership Ambassador with the globes and did not give him instructions to remain with them and ensure their safe restoration to your laboratory.”

Avir’s words hung heavy in the air and all the people at the table turned their attention to Uary.

“I acknowledge my responsibility,” said Uary calmly. “My Contractors have my report and my detailed admissions of the fault in my procedure. But that fault was in trusting the knowledge and experience of Ambassador Basq. I am concerned about trusting him too much when the Reclamation of the Home Ground is at stake.”

Basq didn’t know whether he wanted to scream or simply fall down and die. Trust, trust, trust, he ordered himself. Avir and Kelat will not let this go unchallenged. They will not. How they are remembered is bound up with how I am remembered. Vary will not mention Jahidh, even if there is no way I can make a good answer about his defection. He was removed from my supervision. He is not my fault. He has nothing to do with this.

Kelat rested his fingertips against the tabletop. “Bio-technician Uary, can you here before formal Witnesses cite flaws in Ambassador Basq’s research?” he asked.

“I cannot,” admitted Uary.

“Can you cite errors in the conclusions he has drawn based on that research?”

After a long pause, Uary said, “I cannot.”

“Then the issue is not organic to the contract we propose for Ambassador Basq. The issue is procedural. If the Ambassador’s contract is approved by this committee, I propose an additional contract will be drawn up with a Formal Witness agreed upon by the committee. Bio-technician Uary will have veto powers of the choice of Witness. The Witness will have final say over any and all security decisions regarding Ambassador Basq’s work and will have the authority to subcontract other Witnesses and services as may be required to enforce prudent and reasonable security for that work.

“Will that satisfy your issue, Bio-technician Uary?”

Uary considered the matter.

He’s going to do it. He’s going to remind them about Jahidh. He will lay the faults of my child, my child I was not allowed to supervise, at my feet. He’ll cast doubts upon my memory any way he can to keep me off the committee because I lost him those globes and his chance for promotion.

“Contractor Avir, it will satisfy my current issue,” said Uary.

A flood of relief washed through Basq and he had to work to keep it from showing. Even if I must endure a Witness, it’s all right, Basq told himself. If the Witness watches me, the Witness also watches Uary, and I believe it is Uary who will provide the more…entertaining show.

“Are there any other issues to be raised regarding the contracting of Ambassador Basq?” inquired Kelat.

The silence stretched out and with each heartbeat Basq felt hope grow stronger.

“Then,” said Avir, “I invoke the name I hold. Ambassador Basq Hanr Sone of the Grand Errand.” Basq turned to face her as she recited the conditions of his contract. At last she said, “Do you understand the responsibilities to be laid beside your name?”

“Contractor Avir, I do.” Basq hoped his voice was full of calm assurance. He couldn’t tell. His heart was pounding too loud for him to hear anything properly.

“And do you believe you possess the skill necessary to complete this contract?”

“I do.”

“And do you agree to the appended contract that will place you under the authority and eye of a Formal Witness for the duration of this contract?”

“I do.”

“Then we bind your name to this contract,” said Kelat. “Ready your resources for the work you are assigned.”

Basq made the half obeisance his invocation required. He let all the pride he felt show in his face. It was appropriate now. He was officially part of the committee, and Uary could dine on his objections in silence.

“This committee shall join the Reclamation Assembly in fifteen days as measured in the Hundredth Core,” said Avir. “In six core days, this committee will reconvene to compare information and initiate such procedures as are in its sphere of authority so that we may report to the Assembly that we are moving ahead expeditiously.” Avir smiled warmly at her committee. “Now, my friends, the real work begins.”

“The real work begins,” chorused the committee. When the sound of their voices died away, the Witnesses closed their eyes and bowed. The meeting was ended.

Still dazzled from the turn of events, Basq forgot to move. Avir reached out and shook his shoulder.

“The time for dreaming is when we walk on the Home Ground, Ambassador,” Avir laughed.

Basq felt his cheeks heat up. “I was not dreaming, Contractor, I was…readjusting.”

Avir nodded. “I can understand the need, but there is not much time for that. Let me give you Ivale’s name formally.”

Basq followed Avir around the table to where Ivale stood talking with Uary. As they approached, Uary looked up from the conversation. A spasm of distaste crossed his features.

“Ambassador Ivale,” said Avir. “With your permission, I shall present your full name to Ambassador Basq of the Grand Errand.” Ivale nodded his acknowledgment. “Ambassador Basq, I present to you the name of Ambassador Ivale Muirfinn Bren of the Hundredth Core.” Basq timed his obeisance to match Ivale’s. “I leave you to arrange your work,” said Avir, and she left them there to join Kelat, who was speaking with the Historians.

“I’ve never seen a Contractor show such faith in the work of a Beholden,” remarked Uary. Basq could hear the forced casualness in his words. “I must access your files, Ambassador, and look into your previous work.”

“Should you choose to do so, you will find that I accept both credit and blame as they are due me,” Basq replied smoothly. “I do not shirk one while seeking the other.”

“Listen to me, both of you,” said Ivale coolly. “Do not permit these differences to grow into a quarrel. We cannot afford to be divided in this committee. The Imperialists are making themselves heard in the Reclamation Assembly. The successes the Unifiers have been enjoying over the past years are making many of the Assembly members uneasy. If the Imperialists appear more united and reasoned than we do, they may just get their way and then the Vitae will become nothing more nor less than a race of warmongers.”

Basq instantly bowed his head and pressed his palm against his mouth to seal in any more foolish words. Uary remained unmoved.

“Ambassador Basq,” said Ivale. “In addition to the tasks specifically outlined when your name was invoked, I would ask you to place the cases of the artifacts Eric Born and Stone in the Wall into perspective with the larger group of artifacts. Specifically, you are to determine as far as possible how dangerous they are to us and the Reclamation, under what circumstances they would become most dangerous, and what precautions should be taken to prevent those circumstances. My files from the direct observation of the artifacts on the Home Ground are open for your review. You will add the information gained by Bio-technician Uary to your assessments.” Ivale glowered at Uary. “And you will cooperate fully, Uary.”

Uary’s mouth twitched. “Ambassador Ivale, I wish to walk with my children on the Home Ground. The work is what is important to me, not who does it or who orders it.”

“As it should be,” said Ivale. “I will expect you to take the relevant conclusions that Ambassador Basq discovers into account with your work. We will convene our subcommittee in seventy-two hours with all available current information correlated and ready for presentation. Do you have any issues or additions to raise against this plan?” Formality flattened out the emotion in Ivale’s voice.

“I have none,” said Basq immediately.

“I have none at this time,” said Uary. “I reserve the right to raise any that occur in the future for your attention, Ambassador Ivale.”

“You have that right in perpetuity.” Ivale straightened a fold in his sleeve minutely. It was a dismissive gesture and Basq took a small measure of satisfaction from the sour look it brought to Uary’s face. “Ambassador Basq, your real work begins now. Technician, you must be present as the Contractors assign a Witness to accompany the Ambassador back to the Grand Errand."

Dismissed, Basq bowed and left the room as quickly as dignity would allow. He didn’t spare a glance at any of the artworks or core inhabitants as he hurried down the spiraling corridor toward the core’s center.

The Hundredth Core followed the layout of all the fourth generation cores. At the end of the spiral spread a public annex. Pillarlike communication booths broke up a domed space that rivaled the Home Hall for size and grandeur. The murals of Vitae ships in flight that covered the walls here had all been painted with hand tools and unaugmented skill.

Basq shut himself into one of the booths and activated the control pad as he sat down. Before the list of his options had a chance to solidify in the display space above the pad, his fingers flashed across the controls, opening the lines to the Grand Errand and his quarters, and Caril.

Less than five seconds passed before the full-body image of Caril seated in front of her own terminal appeared above the keypad.

“The formal copies of the contracts just arrived,” he, said, breathless with pride and triumph. “I knew all would go well, but…”

“I know, I know.” Basq felt himself smile. “But we must leave our celebration for when the work is done. I will be under the eye of a Witness before I arrive back home. Listen, I have been grouped on a subcommittee with Bio-technician Uary. He is determined to minimize my effectiveness, and maybe to disengage me from the direct Reclamation work. Eventually, I may need a way to combat him publicly.”

Caril nodded. “Then you may need information about his activities. I can make that my work and I will. I’ll have the quarters ready when the Witness arrives. We will be remembered well, Basq. I swear it.”

“I swear it as well, Caril. I will see you with unaided eyes within the hour.” She smiled at him and Basq shut the lines down.

Basq realized how lucky he’d been to find Caril. Most contracted support staff would not go beyond official duty and would move on as soon as a better contract came their way, but Caril had abiding ambitions and love as well as duty in her soul. Basq had offered to make her a permanent part of his life gladly. She had accepted at once, even though permanent subservience to one person meant a relative demotion. She had known Basq would rise, even when he had doubted it. She would rise with him and she truly deserved to do so.

Basq did not let himself think about what she would have done if the contracts had not come and the white robe had become a reflection of his permanent status. Instead, he opened the lines to the transport coordination section and requested a shuttle back to the Grand Errand. The display informed him that the shuttle was available and the Witness was awaiting his arrival at the Home Hall.

Good to know, Basq thought as he closed the lines and shut the terminal’s power off. I will be ready to receive them into my life. He savored the thought. The Reclamation of the Home Ground was first and foremost, of course, but it would not be a bad thing to assure a good place for Caril and himself when the Rhudolant Vitae walked there. Being favorably remembered by a Witness was the surest course to such a place, especially if his Contractors and Ambassador Ivale could say they shared that memory.

The Home Hall was filled with activity when Basq got there. Members of the committee were being escorted down the docking corridors by entourages numbering between six and ten Beholden. Residents of the core greeted arrivals from the encampment’s ships.

The only still figure in the room was the Witness. A dark-skinned woman several centimeters taller than Basq and at least ten kilos heavier, she stood like a single-phase statue. The movements of the other people in the hall did not so much as ruffle the hem of her jade robe or the ends of her black hair. She had a soft-sided case slung over one shoulder. The lens of her camera’s eyepiece glinted with reflected light.

Basq concentrated on keeping his face smooth and devoid of emotion while he racked his brains trying to remember the etiquette for greeting the Witness one had been assigned. Before he had to resign himself to making his first remembered action a public display of ignorance, the Witness moved. With more grace than even a Contractor, she glided toward him. As she neared, Basq realized she was an Amputant, but a much more devout one than even Contractor Kelat. She raised a flexible, silicate hand toward him in greeting.

Why should I be surprised? Most Witnesses are fanatics. That would be especially true for any Witness Uary agreed to. Basq tried not to frown. / will have to find a way to remind Caril how careful we must be.

“Ambassador Basq, with your permission I will present you my name.” Her voice was deep and had an oddly musical quality about it. “I am Formal Witness Winema Avin-Dae Uratae. Do you accept that I am the Witness contracted to you by the Reclamation Advisory Committee or do you require verification?”

The words triggered the memory of a lesson from his graded schooling. To ask for proof was to impugn the Witness. Impugning the Witness might skew the observation. So, Basq said, “I accept that you are my contracted Witness.”

“Then accept that my memory carries you. On the memory of my own self I swear I will remember accurately.” Winema said the words with such fervor it might have been her first time uttering them. Basq doubted that was the case. Uary would not let a novice be assigned to him.

Now came the difficult part. He had acknowledged and accepted the Witness. With the formalities observed, he had to ignore her completely. Supposedly, that would become easier with time, but for now maintaining that attitude was going to be a fight. Basq pivoted and started for the docking corridor that connected the shuttle to the core. Winema fell into step behind him, as silent as his shadow. He climbed aboard the shuttle and took a seat near the front. He heard the slight creak as the Witness sat behind him. He imagined he could feel the point on the back of his head where her camera was directed. His scalp began to itch.

It won’t always be like this. I’ll be free during my off-shift time. She’s just contracted to watch me while I work.

Which means she’s contracted to watch the dataflow on my terminal. I will have to keep that always in mind. The itch intensified.

Witnesses are necessary, Basq reminded himself. Especially now that we are dealing with artifacts again. The artifacts defeated the ancestors because they were able to rob them of the information needed to quell the rebellion. They will not be able to do that to us. They will not be able to win that way even if they retain any knowledge of their rebellion and the Flight. In each of the three thousand cores there were sequestered twenty-four Witnesses with eidetic memory. They held all the vital knowledge of the Rhudolant Vitae. When her contract was completed, Winema would not only transfer her camera’s record into one of the datastores, she would recite her memory of Basq to one of the Witnesses in the Hundredth Core. If the artifacts wanted to wipe out all the history and learning of the Vitae again, they would have to murder all the Eidetic Witnesses.

But ruining the Ancestor’s datastores was not all they did to defeat the Ancestors, was it? Under the gaze of the Witness, Basq felt the shackles of responsibility take hold. They have obviously retained their abilities. If they have retained any portion of their memory, any portion of the Flight, how are we going to find a way to stop them from moving the Home Ground out of reach again?

With an effort of will, Basq shoved the doubts aside. We will find the knowledge. I will find the knowledge.

Basq knew it was an arrogant idea, but he did not hesitate to admit to himself that it was also a pleasant one.

Planning his strategies made the trip back to the Grand Errand bearable. The itch on the back of his scalp never quite went away, but he was able to cover his awareness of it with lists of things he needed to accomplish in the next seventy-two hours.

Caril was waiting for him when he and Winema emerged from the shuttle into the Grand Errand’s gold-and-mauve receiving area.

“Welcome home, Husband,” she said as she made her obeisance, bending over the small stack of holosheets she carried.

“Wherever you stand to welcome me is home, Wife.” The cliche was a little informal, considering the circumstances, but well within the bounds of propriety.

“These are the contracts which arrived in your absence.”

She handed him the sheets. “I have verified their origins and reviewed them for completeness.”

Excellent, thought Basq, as he shuffled through the stack of sheets. This will demonstrate her efficiency and my trust in her. The heat from his hands and the patterns of his fingerprints activated the displays on each sheet as he touched it. The stack held the contract from Avir and Kelat, as well as the subcontract labeling him Beholden to Ivale. Basq felt warm breath upon his cheek and almost jumped out of his skin. Winema was reading over his shoulder.

I will get used to this, I will get used to this. He waited until his hands stopped shaking to give the sheets back to Caril. “Thank you. You should record my acknowledgment of receipt as soon as we return to our quarters.”

“I will make this my work,” she said. Caril took her place beside him and they left the receiving hall for the corridor to the lifts. Winema followed without a sound.

The Grand Errand was of much newer construction than the Hundredth Core. The support girders and network fibers were hidden by sheaths of crystalline optical matter rather than panels of plastics or ceramics. Although the optical matter was much more flexible than the traditional solids and it had a certain dignity, being one of the private technologies, Basq thought that the solids had a special grandeur. Nothing could be changed aboard the older ships without planning and cooperation. Here, a single technician tapped a pattern to clear a spot in the wall. Under her hand, a square of grey-white wall turned orange and cleared to reveal a web of yellowish fibers. A few meters away from her, a man wearing the grey-and-tan armbands of the support services section pressed a holosheet and flat keypad in the wall and began tapping whatever information flowed through the fibers in that particular section. Doubtless they all had orders and contracts to fulfill, but it was all so…solitary and so easy. Almost improperly so. Even the Imperialists could make changes. The public parks had their treaties written across the walls. A swift gesture with his hand had wiped them clear, but the fact that they had been there at all left a bitter sensation in his mind. Basq wondered if he might apply to move himself and Caril to the Hundredth

Core to be closer to the Advisory Committee. It was worth considering.

The lift to their residence section was nearly full. Like all the ships, the Grand Errand kept its living quarters in its heart, where they could best be sheltered from accidents and everyday occurrences, like the hard radiation that never stopped bombarding the ship. The crowd parted respectfully to make room for Basq and his entourage. Caril tapped the code for their home level on the wall. Her fingerprints were her authorization and the lift added their destination to the list displayed about the translucent doors as they closed.

“Ambassador Basq?”

Basq turned and looked up slightly. A thin man with a greying, braided beard and a red-and-gold badge that marked him as administrative support for communications stood beside him.

“The word of your new assignment has been spreading across the decks. May I congratulate you, sir? Your work brings a good memory for the Grand Errand."

Basq inclined his head. The man was obviously a status seeker, but there was no reason not to be polite, especially with Winema watching. “Thank you. I only hope my future work will do the same.” He glanced over at Caril, who stood a little in front of the man. She nodded. She would note the man’s badge code before they reached their home level. He might be willing to do them a favor or two if he thought it would add to his own status to be seen to help an Ambassador assigned to the Reclamation. Such people were worth collecting.

The lift let them out in their home level park. The park was not a crude recreation of a planetside grove. Outsiders might need such areas to overcome psychological difficulties caused by long periods in enclosed habitats, or simply to compensate for things they missed. Without the Home Ground to model from, the Vitae shunned such affectations. The park was a place where individual expression and creativity could be practiced publicly. They passed a trio of young women in purple-and-black student robes intently discussing the positioning of figures in the choreo-poem that filled the main display stage. Basq also noticed that two of the free-access terminals showed new titles on their displays. Maybe he and Caril would have time to attend a discussion. It might give them a chance to talk about their work out from under the gaze of the Witness. Then he winced. The wall behind the choreo-poem had been covered with a carefully printed text lecture. Above the tidy print, the linked circles of the Imperialists had been drawn with equal care.

Basq’s jaw tightened. When his promotions had granted him access to greater space for personal work, he had requested a residence adjoining a park. If one knew how to read the events recorded in the parks, one could make advantageous predictions about the ship or encampments. Which was, of course, the best reason of all for their existence. They were forums for legitimate arguments as well as pressure valves. In the parks, dissidents could vent their anger before it built up to truly dangerous levels.

But that reasoning had its drawbacks. It meant the most determined and intelligent dissidents kept their activities far away from the parks. Jahidh’s thoughts had never appeared there. Basq had watched for them.

He didn’t let the Imperialist text or his thoughts break his stride. At this moment, he could not be seen to care about anything but setting to work.

Caril let Basq open their door, as etiquette dictated. The portal slid aside to reveal a hive of activity. All four of Basq’s contracted Intership Ambassadors were seated at their stations. The stations themselves were cubical areas marked by pillars of communication fibers sheathed in optical matter. Holosheets or prerecorded requests could be hung from the pillars so that the machines could tap the datastores on other ships for routine retrieval and sort operations. The ISAs themselves handled the calls where complexity or courtesy required personal contact. Their voices rilled the air as they advised, coordinated, recalled, or referenced contacts regarding Basq’s new status and potential requirements. His three apprentices, all of them shaved and robed in red, bustled between the stations, carrying drinks or extra holosheets or relaying questions between the ISAs.

Basq felt his chest swell with pride. He had dismissed his Beholden before he donned his white robe to go meet with his Contractors. Caril must have recalled them all the second the contracts for his new assignment arrived. She had meant more than he had expected when she said, “I will have our quarters ready.”

“Jene,” Basq called above the voices. The supervisor of the team put his station into stasis with two keystrokes and presented himself in front of Basq, a little too quickly. Jene was a student Contractor and the purple bands on his robe were cut with black diamonds. One of the honors conferred on Basq with his promotion was Jene. Under Basq’s guidance, Jene was learning to coordinate and supervise a team of Beholden. “Have the team suspend their activities and stand ready for new assignments. Compile a report of the status of our current resources and contracts.”

“Yes, Ambassador.” Jene’s gaze slid over Basq’s shoulder to Winema.

“Do you see something I don’t, Supervisor?” Basq inquired.

“No, Ambassador,” Jene brought his attention back where it belonged. “The report will be prepared and logged in fifteen minutes.”

“That will be sufficient.” When Jene completed his schooling, he would automatically become Basq’s superior, but if he was unable to handle the tasks his station required both in terms of complexity and etiquette, he’d have nothing to thank Basq for.

Basq fixed his gaze on his work alcove and headed straight for it. His apprentices stepped around him without a word. Praise and greetings to his Beholden would be handed out once Jene’s report had shown him what they had earned.

Let it be seen I run my team properly. No one in this atmosphere will be led to inappropriate ideas or manners. Let it be seen that if Jahidh had not been removed from our care, he would have never even thought of defecting.

Pointless fear, Basq scolded himself. Why can I not let it go? If anyone had any thought that his actions reflected on me, on us, I would not have been assigned to the committee.

Without needing to be asked, Caril retrieved two extra chairs from the main room. Winema did not sit down immediately. While Basq pressed the contract holosheets into the fiber-filled walls, Winema opened her bag. She took out two cubical system taps and typed in their activation codes. Caril stepped around her to raise the privacy walls. Grey-white optical matter spread out from the walls, building on itself until it fenced in the entire work area.

Winema affixed the first tap to the arm of Basq’s terminal chair. When her hand released it, the red warning light blinked on. If the tap were moved or if its dataflow was disturbed without the proper signals being given, Winema would see a warning on her camera set. So would all the other active Witnesses. She hung the second tap between the contracts.

Visible taps on his terminal, of course, were no guarantee that Winema had not ordered invisible ones to be placed on his Beholden’s terminals. It was well within the bounds of her contract to order the entire area to be placed under a continuous data scan.

Winema took her seat next to Caril, and Basq settled himself in the terminal chair. He swung the keypads into place. Although he had meant what he had said to Caril when he greeted her, part of him knew that home for him was really in front of his terminal. This was where he had made the discoveries about Eric Born that led directly to the location of the Home Ground.

Basq’s terminal was not the standard type, like the ones his students and Beholden used. Those were designed with processing layers of generalized organic chains between the silicates. The means for making organic/inorganic chips was another of the private technologies. The integration of organics ensured that no outside machine could tap into the Vitae private network because it would be unable to decode the chemical signals that diffused them. The organics in Basq’s terminal took the technology a step further. They had been designed from maps of his cerebral cortex and cloned from his own cell structure. Basq’s terminal could be used to assemble information in a way that matched the way Basq thought. It was, in many ways, his learning and skill directly enhanced by the speed and precision of a machine.

Basq settled his hands into position on the slip-keys that covered his control pads. There were those who used vocal interfaces, giving orders to their terminals and receiving answers as if they were dealing with apprentices or Beholden. Basq had never liked that. He liked to shuffle and manipulate tangible results. It gave him a better feel for his work.

It only took a moment to slip the keys into new positions so that the board was reconfigured to lock the posted contracts into the main dataflow. Now, the sheets could be read through the network by anyone who needed to verify Basq’s authority, but their contents could not be changed without a direct signal from either Avir or Kelat.

The next thing to be done was to call up Jene’s report of the current resources and status of the terminals in the main room. Basq slid his keys into the proper positions. The main display space showed him a tidy series of graphs indicating available storage space as well as a chart of the channels that had been opened or reserved.

As it stood, he could instantly contact the persons of Ivale or Uary, or read through the information in their datastores. He also had an open line to the main datastore of the Hundredth Core and one of the ISAs, Paral, wasn’t it? Basq squinted at the ID code under the chart; Paral had thought to draw up contracts for time on the lines between the Grand Errand and each of the ships in the encampment, just in case they were required. Basq made a mental note to give the ISA his warmest personal greeting.

All the resources he might need were available and all of them ready for his orders. Basq felt a bit dizzy. He was used to juggling budgets and time and angling for the attention of various Subcontractors and supervisors. Those concerns were wiped away. Now he advised the Reclamation Assembly and the information he required to serve them would be delivered whenever he asked for it.

Basq poised his hands over the keys and considered his assignment. An analysis of the level of danger that the human-derived artifacts presented to the Reclamation efforts. How to even begin to answer such a question? Then he remembered his secondary assignment. Assess the level of danger represented by the missing artifacts. It was dangerous to theorize from a sample of one, but if specifics known about Eric Born could be supplemented by the generalities known about the human-derived artifacts populating the Home Ground, then some useful conclusions might be drawn. The new revelations regarding Eric Born’s abilities added an extra dimension to the calculations. If Born could manipulate physical objects more massive than streams of photons or quanta, then he might…He might…Basq felt his heart contract.

He might even be able to tap into the private network.

Basq’s hands leapt into motion and the terminal responded immediately. It snatched up his report on the escape from Haron Station and all the conclusions that had been drawn. Basq barely noticed that most of those conclusions bore Uary’s stamp. He slid the keys back and forth with deft, determined strokes. The new findings had to be shuffled into the existing files on Eric Born. All observations had to be reinterpreted and a new pattern established that could provide an answer to the new questions. Could Eric Born tap the Vitae network? And, just as important, if he had that ability, would he realize it?

The implications were vast. Assuming that Eric Born was not the only artifact of his kind and he did have the ability to tap the network, the other artifacts did too. Were there range limitations? What would the duration of the tap be? Was there a significant energy expenditure? Answers to all those questions would be needed to prepare for a direct encounter during the Reclamation. No totally accurate information would be available at this point, since no empirical tests had been carried out, but with the terminal he could at least provide a reasoned estimate. Basq had employed all the usual observation practices from the beginning. He had made sure that Eric Born was, at random intervals, given assignments that could be recorded for analysis. When those observations had yielded evidence that Born had not evolved naturally, Basq had watched him even more closely. The majority of Born’s assignments had required him to work on space stations or other networks the Vitae Ambassadors had direct access to.

Basq watched grimly as the results of his work unfolded for him. The display space divided itself into three separate areas. One ran direct recordings of Eric Born’s observed activities, one showed stylized representations of the results of those activities, whether or not direct visual data were available, and one showed single-phase graphic enhancement of the multiphase information.

There had been less truly useful information in datastores than Basq had hoped for. Eric Born was cautious. He would only use his abilities after all other avenues had been explored. Of those instances when extramechanical intervention had been required, it appeared he did not use it simply to snatch his prize out of its storage space. Instead, he used it on a secondary or tertiary system where he could acquire the information, like a code sequence or secured ID, that he needed to reach the main objective.

The pattern of his procedure was actually quite simple and sensible. Basq supposed the artifacts were endowed with little or no imagination. Eric Born would get as close as possible to his target, which made the conclusion that he was using a finite physical resource to operate his abilities probable. Basq set a priority marker on that conclusion. If he was within half a kilometer of his target, Born would use only one terminal to achieve his goal. Over greater distances, he would use a leap-frogging approach. He would exert his abilities over a terminal that had the mechanical ability to access the more distant datastore or network that held his goal. His observed range using this method could be measured in thousands of kilometers.

Can he be traced? Basq slipped his keys into new configurations, searching the data for the means to track the artifact’s invasions. If he could be traced, Eric Born could be returned to the Vitae. Basq could see that his recovery was set in motion right now.

The terminal dredged up an answer after a search time measured in long, slow seconds. Eric Born’s invasions were traceable, not because of what showed up when he manipulated a system, but because of what did not. The system hardware would perform the requested function as if all appropriate codes or signals had been given, but no record would be left of which codes, which signals, or, indeed, which authorized person had initiated the function. Blank spots in the usage records could label a clandestine request made by Eric Born, or any other artifact that shared his abilities. Basq marked that conclusion as well.

The fact the artifacts could be traced damped down some of Basq’s apprehensions allowing him to enter the next question.

Can Eric Born tap into the private network?

The displayed data froze while the terminal worked the question over. Seconds ticked by, measured by Basq’s shallow breathing. The display space finally cleared the frozen images and in their place left a probability graph based on all the information from six years’ worth of observation and speculation. Basq’s hands curled into fists. Eric Born could do it. If he could locate a single terminal that had a physical access to the private network, he could do it easily. There were thousands of such terminals on space stations and planets where the Vitae worked. They were guarded and wired and tapped, of course, but those were all measures against ordinary threats. Their ultimate protection had always lain in a technology that was not compatible with any other system in the Quarter Galaxy. Against Eric Born, and by extension the other artifacts, that precaution was less than useless.

Which was unsettling, but not completely disastrous, because their invasions could be traced. Specific protections could be set in place.

Basq’s mind raced. Eric Born and Stone in the Wall had to be located immediately. If they returned to the Home Ground to alert the other artifacts, they could become the Aunorante Sangh again and the Reclamation would become a war. Basq gathered his raw conclusions together and opened the line to Ambassador Ivale. This could not wait. The terminal would assemble his conclusions into a report and transmit it to Ivale while Basq continued to work.

Basq sighed inwardly. The easy work was done and the obvious conclusions drawn. Now came the test. Could he, from the available information, infer what patterns of resistance, if any, would be displayed by the artifacts remaining on the Home Ground? There was a wealth of carefully collected satellite data available, but the Historical committees had encountered difficulties interpreting it. There was no guarantee that he could successfully integrate Eric Born’s observed behavior into that greater, less well understood picture…Basq leaned forward and set to work.

Caril watched Basq hunch over the boards again. He was going to need a muscle relaxant before he slept, or his shoulders would be aching in the morning. She filed the thought away in the part of her memory that kept her household lists. She flicked her gaze toward the Witness. Winema had her camera eye trained on Basq, but her unaugmented eye took in the entire room, including Caril.

Keeping her face impassive, Caril rose and stepped through the privacy barrier. She moved carefully between the Beholden’s work stations. Since she did not stop to give any of them instructions, none of them gave her a glance. She looked back at the feverish, ordered activity that she had organized and allowed herself an inner smile. There was not one flaw here, not one thing out of place or left undone. It would run smoothly without her supervision for hours.

Caril left her home and crossed the park. The choreographers ignored her as she passed them, preferring to continue their argument about balance and light and shadow than to politely acknowledge another resident of the deck. The Imperialist treatise still glowed in green on the wall. She didn’t read it. She knew quite well what it said.

The corner of the park farthest from her door held a single user terminal. She sat in front of it and ran her hands across the board, shuffling the keypads into the position she wanted. According to public law, these terminals were unmonitored and couldn’t be traced, so you could say anything here, place any text or recording you wanted to in them. In truth, Caril knew, they were almost as tightly secured as Basq’s terminal was.

There were, however, ways to confuse the system. First she composed a message to the market vendors to order dinner for the Beholden and the family. Her own terminal had been co-opted by Basq’s team, so for now all the household work would have to be done from the public lines. Apart from the list, she recorded the other news briefly. Jahidh needed to know what had happened so he could plan his next move.

Then Caril arranged the keys into their new patterns with an ease that came from long practice. She waited a few heartbeats and arranged them again. Her news would flit through every park aboard the Grand Errand, bouncing back and forth for hours in the crowded lines before it finally hit a transmission point where it could be released from the internal lines and start on its real journey.

Let Basq strive for the honor of remaining a servant to the Quarter Galaxy. She would not make that her work. Once she had thought he understood the need for the Vitae to cut themselves loose from the overwhelming caution that had been instilled in them when the Ancestors had begun the flight, but he had been blinded by his promotions and paralyzed by responsibilities until there was almost nothing left of the person she had tied her life to.

Let him glory in his service to a Reclamation Assembly that spoke of standing side by side with civilizations of babies and monsters. She would not hear them. The Rhudolant Vitae were the First Born and the First Blood of all the humans, the head of the Family, not just another member to be tricked and controlled by the Unifiers. Jahidh had found the proof and he would soon bring home the power to make the Assembly recant.

But there was not now much time. The artifacts were lost and even the Assembly was taking that loss seriously.

She leaned back in her chair and, using a key-slip she’d learned from Kelat, Caril sent both transmissions simultaneously.

Caril tried to relax the cold, hard knot that was forming inside her. She’d heard one too many stories in Chapel about the duplicity of the Aunorante Sangh. She would have died before she admitted she was afraid of what it meant to have not one, but two of them free in the Quarter Galaxy, but she could not make that fear leave her. Uary’s decision to let them get completely away was rash in the extreme, but it might turn out to be the best delaying tactic they had. If their people could move faster than Basq, the artifacts might be recovered and stored for safe study.

It wasn’t likely, but she could hope. Caril tried not to listen to Kelat’s fretting that the Imperialists did not have the structures they needed to coordinate their activities. Kelat had spent too many years buried in contracts, she told herself.

Caril rose. She had learned to live with so much, she would learn to live with this new anxiety.

After all, now that the Assembly had found the Home Ground for themselves, there could not be that much longer to wait for the Reclamation.

Or, at the very least, the resolution.