Shadow Over Avalon (15 page)

“Why, Archive?”

“Inability to project the possible future is intriguing. This new sensation is pleasurable.”

Arthur had always known the Archive as a sentient entity in its own peculiar way, yet he had never appreciated the degree of awareness. Only on rare occasions did it single out an individual by name, from what it regarded as a collective whole. He began to feel like a microbe on a slide under a microscope.
What entertainment value does it get from watching me squirm?

“I have an ally?” Arthur eased back on his chair with one eye on the door. He wanted to return to his room before Circe woke up.

“I can access any implant in Avalon. When this area is secure from intrusions I will locate and draw.”

Arthur woke to a tingling behind his right ear two nights later. The Archive called.

*

Earth Date 3874

Tarvi didn’t make contact until well after wake time the next day. From the vid screen, his face betrayed how long the battle had lasted.

“Shadow is still with us. I’ve done everything I could, and half of that might not work. It’s up to her now.”

“When can I see her?” Ector eased into his console chair. “She doesn’t like confinement much.”

“She’s in a sterile room, unconscious. She will remain that way until either her membranes stabilize, or I have to remove them. I’d have done so already if Ambrose didn’t need her for surface work.”

“And the child?” Ector fumed. If he had undergone all the embarrassment for nothing . . .

“It . . . lives.”

“Tarvi, don’t hold out. I’ll be the one charged with breaking bad news, so I want a good idea of any complications.”

“Difficult to say with a hybrid. It isn’t like any child ever conceived before. As far as I can tell, it has a greater degree of our characteristics than Shadow does, though whether they will remain as it gestates in vitro tanks . . . who can tell?” Tarvi yawned.

“Deformed?” This possibility was one Sanctuary considered when a nonseer breeding application registered. They only permitted a productive union if the prospective parents had stable genetic material. Terrans, on the other hand . . .

“A larger thalamus than warrants projected gestation, but I’m not sure if it’s a problem,” Tarvi admitted.

“There’s something else, or you would’ve said straight out. What makes this child so different?”

“Maybe nothing permanent, although it’s got all the seers tying themselves in knots.” Tarvi looked straight into his console, giving Ector a clear view of his face and the worry written there. “This embryo projected anger when removed. We all felt the touch and recognized the emotion. Sanctuary is demanding custody, as of yesterday, and I think they’ll get it.”

“Shadow won’t like their high-handed attitude.” Ector didn’t either when it came to basics.

“Who does? Why get concerned just yet? This whole issue could become academic if the child dies.” Tarvi leaned forward, and his image faded.

*

Later Ector wished he had objected on the Terran’s behalf. By the time he visited, the child had been removed from Medical Faculty, along with its tank. He bumped into an incensed Ambrose just as the commander cannoned out of prenatal care.

“We’re too late,” Ambrose said, almost hissing with anger. “Sanctuary sent a team five hours back, who were promising breeding passes for those who cooperated. You can imagine the alternative, I suppose. Naturally, all the duty staff obliged.”

“They haven’t the right without the birth mother’s consent.” Ector prepared for a battle. No one could deny
him
access to Sanctuary. Any former seer held a right of access in case Sanctuary could persuade such a one to rejoin.

“Have you seen the child? Have I? Given a few days development and even Tarvi wouldn’t recognize it. By the time we start knocking on the correct door, they will have at least three other fetuses in the same developmental stage. I’d even bet on the one they let us retrieve not surviving beyond a few hours.”

“How am I supposed to tell Shadow her child’s been filched from under our noses?” Ector’s throat now ached from containing a shout to a normal tone.

“Don’t. I will. Better be me if one of us is to earn hatred. I won’t see her that much, and I don’t need her personal loyalty as long as she commits to our cause.” Ambrose looked down the gray-toned corridor at the critical wing. “She might not even mind.”

*

Shadow did mind. Ector saw her several days later, after Ambrose had explained. Her face resembled a carved block of ice for all the feeling it registered. Her eyes glittered from the opening of an old, half-healed wound.

“All . . . I . . . had. My . . . only . . . kin . . . gone.”

Amidst all the tubes and dressings, Shadow looked strangely dignified. Ector sensed she would not weep, or rail against another loss, but meet it all with courage and acceptance of the inevitable.

“We’ll get visitation rights,” he promised.

“Ambrose . . . linked. I know the . . . child is . . . lost. See . . . my baby when the sun . . . rises due west.”

“They’ll raise it well and—” Ector broke off. Shadow had stopped listening. This subject had become off limits. The child might live or die. Neither of them would know for sure.

“When I out of . . . things?” Shadow gestured toward the paraphernalia of recovery.

“Soon, if you lie quiet. Tarvi says you’re doing well. Would you like a console? I can access data on Sanctuary.”

“No. Thinking best. More comes back. Ector go now . . . need heal.” She turned her face to a dark corner, staring as though looking for something he couldn’t see.

Not a need of healing from physical injuries, he thought. She didn’t have comfort the first time and had learned to adjust without it. Not a born loner, but definitely a made one. She lived alone, hurt alone, and she’d die alone, outside the care of others by conscious choice, just like the other Brethren.

Shadow made a full recovery, to be escorted into barracks by Ambrose five days later. She resumed training, competent in all skills when Ector increased her program. As each day passed, he worried more about Shadow’s silence. He could count the number of times she had uttered a word since her return. Mostly she would answer with that slow, sad smile he had learned to associate with the Outcast Brethren. During those days alone, a transformation had seeped over her that he had no power to reverse. Ector guessed Shadow’s returning memories gave her a chilling template. She was not Terran, or Submariner; she had become Brethren.

Swimming was now a compulsory exercise to aid her healing membranes. Ector tried to make this duty fun, but the effort was wasted on Shadow. She undertook each task with the same detached effort. Even access to the Archive’s database no longer held her interest to the extent it had before, and she switched her attention to healing techniques. In desperation, Ector turned to Ambrose for advice after the last training session of the day.

“No response at all?” Ambrose raised his eyebrows, waving a hand to offer the vacant chair opposite his desk.

“None. I can’t break through her shell of silence, and she has cut off mind contact. What am I supposed to do?” Ector said, hoping for a suggestion.

“Try the Archive. It has more experience with human minds than any other, and it has touched hers.”

Ector waited until diurnal sleep time to link with the entity. It seemed more inclined to personal requests when it wasn’t busy with heavier daily functions. His console screen lit up with a demand for identification. Ector swore at length as he punched in his code, resigning himself to a difficult session. It gave no response for a moment, and then his console implant link sparked in its holder, the Archive wanted direct access. Such a request registered so rarely that Ector knew how many times it had occurred since the intelligence first developed sentience. He established link, feeling that great mind envelop his in almost a lover’s gentle embrace. Ector numbered one of the few it had ever spoken with, and only once before with him.

Shadow follows a dark star
, it said in response to his question, its thoughts a quiet whisper in his mind.

I don’t understand
, Ector thought back.

Few would, now. People can commit and still have space for other thought patterns. Those who sacrifice all for a cause will choose nonexistence, rather than perform imperfectly. This Terran has just a cause left. That exaggerated sense of optimism you call hope has become a faint flicker in Shadow. Renewed access will reveal negativity. This individual has a strong mind you cannot penetrate. She will continue in isolation, or admit others as she pleases.

Ector was disappointed at the assessment. The Archive had named Shadow rather than projecting an image of the individual—very rare.

I mark those of interest, Ector.

“Me?” Ector said out loud, startled.

You have taken the first steps to independent thought, and this is always interesting. Shadow is much further along. Let blind fate take precedence.

The great mind withdrew, leaving Ector with more questions than answers. It had pronounced and declined to explain, as it had the first time Ector had asked its advice. He’d chosen a difficult life, rather than become lost in the expected, never regretting his decision. Did the Archive mean his path? He didn’t know, and there was still the problem of Shadow.

*

Ector noticed Ambrose standing by the pool the last quarter of wake-time training two days later. He joined the commander while Shadow toweled down.

“Fank’s unit located an isolated fort. How ready is Shadow?”

“Fit, skilled and silent. As ready as she’ll ever be.” Ector glanced over in the girl’s direction. She had seen Ambrose, although she appeared intent on ignoring him.

“My office in ten minutes. Just you.”

On the top floor of the barracks complex, the window gave a panoramic view of Avalon, but today Ambrose had the room darkened with shutters, and the light level decreased. A map of the nearest surface mass spread across his console display port. It projected against a plain sidewall in graphic detail.

“Our target is on the east coast, half way up and about ten miles inland, where the red asterisk is fixed. Ideal, isolated and has river access from the sea. Fank reports that there is sufficient cover to get laz guns into position between dusk and midnight. The terrain is so flat we couldn’t miss any sky ship. All I need are details of Terran activities between those times and the general location of the launch port.”

“And a draw,” Ector said. Nestines emerged when they had a reason, not on a regular basis. Shadow’s role in this became obvious. “Our Terran stands outside their gates and waves her arm shouting ‘Come band me if you can.’ A suicide run.”

“We have a replacement band for her that emits the same signals when activated, but it won’t work in any mind control attempt. I intended to send her in as observer. Once she’s in place, you set off a controlled charge and out they’ll come. Shadow will see where they emerged, and how much Terran backup they take, since she doesn’t have the Terran mind block. I want simple reconnaissance from her, that’s all. I need to know if she’s reliable.”

“She would walk through rock if she thought it would hurt the Nestines. Give her a set of orders, aim and fire.”

“Very cynical, Ector. I’ll give her a guided tour of Avalon if you need a break before you leave,” Ambrose offered.

“I already suggested it. She wasn’t interested. Though I did find one subject that got her full attention recently: an Archives record of the only Nestine sky ship we managed to bring down in water. I’m convinced she spends hours working on strategies to get one of that species alone for her own grisly amusement. Maybe I’m wrong. It’s difficult to tell with one who won’t share thoughts.”

“Do you mean to tell me that she still maintains this silence? I thought you accessed the Archive for a solution.” Ambrose switched on overhead lights. The night glow of city life faded from his window.

“And it
helpfully
said she followed a dark star. Make sense of that if you can.”

“Vaslov, early twenty-third century space poet,” Ambrose stated, looking somewhat surprised. “I can’t remember all of it, just a few lines, and bear in mind, the man went half mad with loneliness, being the sole survivor of hibernation on the illfated Sirius expedition.” He thought for a moment then continued:

’Ware the traveler under a dark star,

Like the cat who walks alone.

Hunting souls in bitter night,

Shadow walkers journey far.

“It gets much worse, and gave all want-to-be planetary colonists the jitters until it was suppressed. I came across a copy when I was researching why they gave up looking for a new home.”

“And did you find the reason?” Ector asked, dismissing the gloomy gibberish.

“They couldn’t find a class M planet within a reasonable hibernation distance at first. They weren’t reliable either, those contraptions. Sometimes they induced a coma so deep that volunteers slept to death and left the generation crew to dispose of corpses before they had even left orbit. Then that awful incident happened when an insect got inside the ship during the penultimate trial. It ate its way through a control cable, the one linked to emergency override. They did a loop of Saturn, just to make sure the ship could operate on automatic pilot with sleep-chilled human cargo. That bug must have thought it’d found paradise. Anyway, it started a big row, and the program was shelved until another setback made people forget.”