Dark Foundations (43 page)

Vero raised a finger. “Betafor, you say you were part of the True Freeborn. They are at war with the Dominion?”

“Correct.”

“Can you explain something of the reason why they are at war?”

Betafor smiled again.
She seems to have a limited repertoire of emotional expressions.
“We have a deal, Sentinel Enand. After the remaining implant in Sarudar Azeras is removed and he is restored to health, I will tell you all I know. Not before.”

Vero shrugged. “Very well. Incidentally, you said something yesterday about also being a sentinel.”

“What was said was this. You said: ‘Show us this man,' meaning the sarudar. I replied ‘Ah, Verofaza, the sentinel. We too were made to be sentinels.'”

Of course.
She records all conversations
.
Another awesomely useful trick
. “Exactly. What did you mean?”

“It is our history. In the constant wars between the Freeborn worlds there was always a need to have watchmen at the edges of the planetary systems to identify and inspect the ships that passed there. But it was realized that it was no task for humans. Your race is unsuited to spend months in the depths of space.”

Perena stiffened slightly.
She understands that
.

“At first, we were created just to watch and warn of vessels. We were little more than machines. But as it can take days for signals to go backward and forward to the edge of a system, it was realized that it would be better if we were given intelligence and could make decisions. So over centuries we were given new abilities and allowed to act. We would find ships, stop them, and negotiate with them. And, if necessary, we would search them or seize them.”

“
You
searched ships?” Perena looked doubtful.

“Indeed, Captain. I would lead the search party. I would normally have at least one pack of Krallen behind me.”

“Did you use them?” Vero asked.

“Sometimes yes. On three occasions in the last twenty years I . . . ordered the Krallen to destroy all the crew.”

“Ah,” Vero said, catching the look of dismay on Perena's face. “
I
have a question,” he said after a moment's silence. “In the ship we found there was another being—a steersman. Do you deal with them?”

“No. That is the task of a human—a steersman handler.”

“What do you think of the steersmen?”

“I find your question lacking in clarity. I pity human beings for dealing with them; it is a sign of . . . weakness. But what we call the extra-physical and you call the spiritual or the supernatural does not concern me. We do not have souls.”

“I see.”

“How do you know you do not have souls?” Perena asked.

“The subject has been the subject of much . . . discussion among us. We do not believe that any portion of us survives the destruction of our memory arrays. If I was blown up, I would simply cease to exist.”

“Do you believe in God?” Perena asked.

“We recognize the universe contains a range of beings, some of which are extra-physical. They are of little interest to us. We do not worship a creator. After all, if we did that, it might lead us to worship the human beings who made us.” She paused. “That would not be sensible.”

“Quite,” Vero added and wished he hadn't.

“The ship that was destroyed—accidentally—at the lake had, you tell us, another Allenix unit on board,” said Perena. “How do you feel about the fact that it was destroyed?”

“It was . . . sad.”

“Sad for who?”

“For her.”

“Don't you feel grief for her loss?”

There was a moment's silence. “The Allenix were not made to be creatures of community. We were designed for solitude. We exist . . . for ourselves.”

Perena seemed content to stare at Betafor for some time in silence. After several moments, she shook her head as if in sorrow and looked at Vero. “Over to you.”

“Betafor,” he said, “yesterday you mentioned beings that could read minds. Can you tell us more?”

There was a twitch of the tail. “I do not know much. But I will tell you what I know because it affects my safety. The last world to hold out against the lord-emperor was Tellzanur. Their forces fought hard against the Dominion. They were smaller in number, but superior in . . . strategy and very good at surprise tactics. Sarudar Azeras fought with them and he may tell you more. Then the lord-emperor brought in a new creature—a thing called a baziliarch. He got it from the Nether-Realms, what you call Below-Space. He took captives and soon knew everything about the insurgents and their defense crumbled.”

“A baziliarch?” Vero asked, hoping that the dismay he felt was not visible on his face. “Is that something like a steersman?”

“Yes. It is an extra-physical being. There is a . . . hierarchy. This being is much higher than any steersman. There are only seven of them.”

“And can you tell us anything more about them?”

“No.” There was finality in the answer.

For the next hour Vero and Perena put many other questions to Betafor. On some topics, notably those that might have a bearing on the Dominion and its forces or on the technology of Below-Space travel, she refused to answer. On others, Vero sensed an evasiveness or brevity in the answers that suggested she did not want to say too much.

“Okay. For the time being, we have finished,” Vero said, sensing that Perena's exhaustion matched his own. “Is there anything you want?”

“I would like my pack.”

Vero looked at Perena, who shook her head. “We have not decided what to do with it. What's in it?”

“Spare parts, maintenance equipment, some data files, a change of clothes.”

Vero caught Perena's raised eyebrows and sensed her bewilderment.
How do you deal with a machine that wants a change of clothes?

“Betafor,” he said, “we will review the situation.”

Vero allowed Perena to precede him out of the room and let the guard lock the door behind him. They found some drinks and walked outside to a shaded veranda.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “she isn't going out of her way to make us love her.”

“I'll say. She is utterly self-centered.”

“And cunning, arrogant, and capable of ordering murder. And that's just what she has admitted to.”

“Yes. If machines are made in the image of their creators, I'm not looking forward to meeting them.”

“True. B-but, P., for all her faults, we need to know if she's an enemy or a potential ally.”

Perena patted Vero's hand. “Patience! I think it's far too early to say.”

“True. But she isn't going out of her way to help us. She revealed nothing about this
Slave of Rahllman's Star.
”

“A bargaining maneuver. She wasn't so reticent about anything that marked her as superior to humans. And she said nothing that might reveal any weaknesses.”

“P., what do you think about this female bit?”

Perena's expression showed deep thought. “I didn't find her at all female. There's nothing feminine or maternal about her that I could sense. What about you?”

“Nothing. I don't think she has any sort of genuine gender. And she admitted to being made in some factory. So why does she want to be female?”

Perena made no answer, but bent down and picked up a tiny shell. She held it up to the light as if marveling at its geometry before turning back to Vero. “Let me tell you what I think. She's desperately anxious to be superior to human beings. We have genders, so she must have one too.”

“She has an inferiority complex? That's what they used to call it.”

Perena put the shell down carefully. “Yes. There is an insecurity about her relationship to human beings.”

They stared across the coral sand toward the sea.

“Oh, good,” Vero said, “we have an intelligent machine to deal with. And as if that wasn't enough, it's neurotic.”

Perena laughed.

“I'm worried by this baziliarch, P. Very. How can we plan against a being that can read minds, assuming it isn't an invention of hers?”

“An invention? No, I don't think she has that much imagination. She can do simple lies and that's it. But a mind-reading enemy is alarming. All it has to do is find Merral and it will know everything.”

Her eyes caught his and he saw worry in them.

It was midafternoon before Vero and Perena heard from Arabella on the status of the sick man. The operation, she said, had been a success and the mysterious object removed. The surgeon however was puzzled as to why it hadn't been removed earlier.

“And what is this thing?” Vero asked.

“We have no idea,” Arabella said and passed him a small synthetic container in which something like a silver button lay.

Another puzzle to resolve
and one I can do without
. “I will have it analyzed. But the prognosis for Azeras . . . ?”

“Is excellent. I see no reason for either me or the surgical team to stay here.”

“I can fly you back,” Perena said. She turned to Vero. “I have things I need to do in Isterrane. I'll be back tomorrow.”

Arabella expressed her thanks. “Vero, I've left rules for the nurses on how Azeras is to be treated. You can call me if I'm needed.”

“Thank you. When can we talk to him?”

“Talk as in question him? Tomorrow, but you must obey the nurses' rules. Don't overtask him.”

“We won't. He's too valuable for that.”

“Oh, one other thing,” Arabella said. “As a preliminary to the operation, we gave him a quick checkup. There are some physical modifications—electronics of some sort—in the upper side of the left hand and there are also implanted speakers in the ear canals. We also think that some modest genetic amendments have been made.”

Ten minutes later, as he walked over to the landing strip with Perena, Vero said, “Not long ago, P., the very idea of a gene-altered human appalled us. But now we take such things for granted.”

She shook her head. “And so, slowly, steadily—and without ever realizing it—we become hardened to evil.” Her tone was somber. “Best wishes for your interviewing. But be careful, Vero. There's evil all around.”

That morning Merral was late getting into the office. He had barely sat down when Corradon called him up on a routine matter.

“I was trying to get hold of you yesterday, but couldn't,” said Corradon. “It was a bit alarming.”

Merral apologized, but offered no excuses. After the call ended he felt guilty about how much he had undertaken without the approval of Corradon.
Military necessity
. But those two words could justify all manner of wrongs.

Later in the morning, he postponed all the meetings he could for the next two days and made arrangements to be contacted through Zak in a crisis.

That afternoon, as Merral walked down a corridor, his mind full of Betafor and Azeras, a musical voice rang out behind him. “Commander!”

Merral turned to see the dark-suited form of Delastro with his pair of aides behind him.

“Prebendant.”

“Commander!” There was exasperation in Delastro's green eyes. “I was trying to find you yesterday on a matter of protocol that has since been resolved. But no one knew where you were.
No one.
”

Merral hesitated, hoping his unease was not visible. “I was out of the office.”

“But inaccessible? Not even Advisor Clemant or Colonel Larraine knew where you were.”

“I was . . . traveling.”

“I see. A secret mission perhaps?” Delastro's glacial smile did not soften the sharpness of his words.

Merral paused, wondering if he could avoid lying. “Prebendant, under conditions of war, it may be advisable that even my closest associates do not know where I am. Military necessity. Yesterday was . . . an attempt to rehearse such a situation.”