Warp World (19 page)

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Authors: Kristene Perron,Joshua Simpson

BOOK: Warp World
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“Of course,” Pegno said. He held out a mini-film. “My private comm. Contact me any time. But Korth—” He pulled the film back as Fismar reached for it. “—remember, this is a one shot deal. You know how it goes upchain. You turn them down, egos get bruised, they’ll black you. Whichever side you choose, that’s a choice you make for life. Nothing I can do about that.”

“Been there already,” Fismar said, and dropped the film into his pocket. “We’ll see each other, trust me.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Fismar’s eyes roamed across the warehouse once Pegno and his guards were gone. The place was falling apart. His “troops” were a bunch of wild Outers who would just as soon fight each other as an actual enemy. Their only weapons were blades and fake guns. There was not a scrap of fresh food, and the stores they did have were running low. Eraranat had promised supplies but nothing had materialized. And he was supposed to be preparing these men to take over a piece of land that even veteran raiders wouldn’t go near?

Whichever side you choose, that’s a choice you make for life.

“Crazy. Kargin’ insane.”

Seg shoved another filmdisc into his pack—more records to review—then looked around the sleeping quarters for the auto-med. Knowing the speed at which credit and loan offices moved, he would be tied up well into the night and he still had prep work to do for the morning’s Question session. But he couldn’t put off the loan any longer; three days had passed since he had promised Fismar more supplies. There was no point even considering sleep and it would take more than one stim dose to get him through this.

“You said you were taking a night off to work with me,” Ama said, her back pressed against the far wall as she watched him.

He felt his shoulders pull upward. Not this again.

“Plans changed. I’ve got a meeting with a Senior Theorist, and I need to discuss certain financial matters with an agency,” Seg said, with the vaguest hope that his explanation would pacify her. “You’ll have to study on your own until the Question is finished.” He blinked, changed the subject. “Have you seen the auto-med?”

“Study?” she raised her hands. “How am I supposed to study this?” She pulled a digifilm from her pocket, tapped the screen and read aloud. “Primary developmental influences at base-stage civilization. Hydrological underpinnings of interaction. Polytheistic transitions. Form/function economic systems.” She shook her head. “What does that even mean? What does any of it mean?”

He let out an exasperated sigh as he paced the room. “
That
is basic level Cultural Theory material, as is everything I’ve given you. I was studying that material when I was twelve, for the love of the Storm.”

“I’m not you. I left the Lesson House after my first day. What I know is boats and water and fighting and—”

“Where is the damned auto-med?”

“Why?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you can take more of that stuff that keeps you awake and makes you act like an ass?”

Why did he even let himself dream that she would be reasonable?

“It’s not the medication; it’s the situation. Which is extremely hectic right now. And you’re not helping matters.”

“Good. The
situation
is ridiculous. Do they expect you to stay awake all day and all night while this inquisition goes on? Do they expect you to forget all your other responsibilities?”

“The Question is my only responsibility, in the eyes of the Guild.”

He stepped past her, then spotted the auto-med. He moved to snatch it from the shelf but Ama was quicker.

“Give that to me!” he said.

She held the auto-med just out of reach and backed away to the opposite side of the room, nearly tripping over the boots he had shucked off and left in the middle of the floor.

“Three weeks. More than three weeks with nothing to do but stare at the walls or those stupid films I can’t understand. I don’t know if it’s day or night because I can’t go outside. You keep telling me the Question will be over soon but it never ends. I’m losing my mind being stuck in here,” she said in a voice just below a shout.

“Is that your complaint?” Seg snapped. “The Guild is undermining my methodology, the CWA is holding up my payment from the raid, I have fifty men who are running out of food, and you’re angry because you’re bored?”


Bored
? This isn’t boredom, it’s a prison!” She hurled the auto-med at Seg.

He ducked just before the machine bashed off the wall.

“Take me back to the warehouse! At least there I can be with my own people and do something I’m good at.

Every muscle in Seg’s body snapped to attention; he felt his face redden.

“Believe me, if this is how you’re going to behave, I don’t need you around right now.”

“I’m sorry I don’t
behave
like the good little caj you’re used to.”

He grabbed the auto-med and shoved it into his pack. “If I’d wanted caj, then you would have been grafted and processed. I wanted a rational, adult companion, not a child.” He slung the pack and started for the door.

“I want to leave.” Ama wedged herself in front of the sleeping quarters door before he could exit. “I want to be with my people.”

“I don’t have time for this. I’ll take you tomorrow, after the Question.”

“No. Now.” Ama’s eyes burned. “I know what tomorrow means from you.”

“The Storm is over Cathind, so you can’t go now—nobody can. I’m sorry if you can’t have everything you want when you want it.” He tried to push past her but she grabbed his arm and pushed back.

“What’s happening to you?” she demanded.

“I’m working. I have a lot of people who would like to see me fail, a lot of people who think they can profit by destroying a
legend
. I have considerable responsibilities to all the people I’ve brought over, and now I have you throwing a tantrum at the worst possible moment.”

Ama yanked her hand away and locked her eyes on his. “If you won’t take me to the warehouse, I’ll go on my own.”

“No. You can’t be out there unescorted. It’s too dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself!”

“I said no!” Seg shouted. Then, in a measured tone: “I forbid it. This discussion is over.”

There was only an inch or two between them. Seg could feel the resentment rolling off her, as her chest rose and fell and her dathe flared. Neither dared to speak.

He stepped forward, Ama didn’t move but she didn’t try to stop him, either. The door hissed open and their bodies connected briefly as he bumped her aside.

The door slid closed behind him; Manatu, back to the wall, waited to follow.

“At least someone here understands patience.”

Seg watched the glowing numbers of the lift change colors as he and Manatu descended. The Acquired Technology and Research division of the Theorist’s Guild was as deep as it was tall. The ten levels above ground were primarily for administration, sales and development. Below ground, ten more levels housed the real work—the science of deciphering Outer technology.

Where most Guild Selectees reveled in their top floor offices, the Selectee for Acquired Technology and Research, Theorist Shyl Vana, had chosen the third subterranean level for her headquarters. Apparently, she was more interested in getting things done than in parading her status. A point in her favor, though that alone was not sufficient to lower Seg’s guard. Since he had been ambushed at the Question, he had ceased regarding any Guild members as allies.

When the
–3
icon glowed blue, the lift doors opened and he and Manatu stepped into a small waiting area that was, for the Guild, uncharacteristically cluttered. A young woman took Seg’s information, then went to inform Theorist Vana of his arrival.

Why doesn’t she simply use the comm?
Seg wondered. Strange behavior for any Person, let alone an employee of the ATR.

A few minutes later, the assistant returned and beckoned Seg inside the door to Theorist Shyl Vana’s office.

The room was even more disorganized than the waiting area. There was a desk and chair, though the former was buried in tools, bits and pieces of machinery, and stacks of digifilms. There were four wallscreens and two holo-projectors, each displaying notes and diagrams far beyond Seg’s limited knowledge of the technological arts. Theorist Vana was not dressed in the well-groomed manner of a Selectee. A plain shirt hung carelessly over the waistband of work trousers, and both were covered by a heavy apron. There were goggles pushed up on Vana’s head that sent her short, dark blonde hair up in uneven tufts. Her hands were gloved and, in one, she carried a small, triangular piece of metal that held her complete attention.

Seg paused and waited for her to speak. When she didn’t, he cleared his throat and said, “You wanted to see me, Theorist Vana?”

“Mmm,” she said. “Fascinating.”

“If now isn’t the time, I can return later. After the Question, perhaps.”

Shyl turned to him, her face guileless and open. “It’s never a good time to interrupt work, I’m sure you would agree, but I have learned to make exceptions. Life has a bad habit of intruding; we either accept that fact or break ourselves against it.” She smiled. “Come tell me what you think of this.”

She held out the triangle for him. It was light, possibly a metal alloy, and had a small ridge at each tip.

“What is the function?” he asked, turning it over.

“Accelerated biodegradation. It could be used to convert waste into useable base materials or, well, I’m sure there are more lethal uses. Impressive, much like your raid.”

His grip loosened and he handled the piece more gingerly. “Is it deactivated?”

“I believe so,” Shyl said, taking it back. “I know how to activate and deactivate it. As for the rest …” She sighed and placed the triangle on a long table covered in bits and pieces of her many projects. “As always, progress is hindered by the voluminous quantity of reports I am expected to file as I work.”

“Bureaucracy,” he grunted, “the bane of progress and our major product as a culture these days. While this is—” He studied his hand, forcing it to steady as he searched for the word. “—

gracious
, do you have a specific topic or purpose for our meeting? I shouldn’t think there was anything novel enough in the tech recovery from my raid to merit the ATR’s attention.”

“Discovery,” Shyl said. “I am a student of science, Theorist. Learning is the goal. The most noble goal, some would say. I’ve seen the newsfeeds celebrating your superhuman victory and I’ve heard the grumbles of Questioners who think you are a firebrand leading us all to ruin. All evidence tells me that you are an important individual, someone who will play a vital role in the future of the Guild and the World.
My
future, you see. I wanted to meet you, discover for myself who Segkel Eraranat is. Do you understand?”

He leaned against the table.

“Segkel Eraranat is busy,” he said, with a long exhalation. “Tired. Irritable. Doing what has to be done. You’d have to meet me at a less hectic time for me to give you a more detailed assessment.”

She smiled. “No, I think I prefer to see you this way. It’s easier to imagine the young man who broke away from his recon squad and ventured out onto open water.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Tell me, what was it like? Really, not the official report version. Was it terrifying being so cut off from solid ground?” As she spoke, her studious mask fell away to reveal a face full of childlike wonder.

He looked at her for a moment, suspecting a ruse—but the naked curiosity in her face warmed him. His shoulders relaxed.

“At first, it was insanely terrifying. Surrounded by the liquid, in this rickety wooden boat, at the mercy of the water’s motion.” He gestured with his hand, mimicking the rock of the boat. “But, after a time, it was as if I were alone and completely in control of my life. I could take the boat where I wanted, do what I wanted to do, be whatever I wanted to be. Free, I suppose. Freer.”

The answer took years off Shyl’s face. “Oh, I envy you. I love my work here but I do miss extrans missions. Free, yes, that was the feeling.” For a moment she was lost in memory; then she made a fist and thumped it lightly against the table. “But … work. I won’t keep you any longer, Theorist, but I am thankful that you accepted my invitation. I do hope we will have more cause to meet in the future. I would like to hear more about this rickety wooden boat. Fascinating.”

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