Dark Foundations (46 page)

“You catch on,” Azeras said. “Except that my death
does
mean something. I'm a nuisance, because I can tell you the truth about it. And you may decide to dismantle it. It is safer with me out of the way.”

Merral caught the look of dismay on Vero's face.

Azeras spoke again. “Allenix units have only scorn for humans. They want us out of the way, because they want to replace us. That's why we life-bond them. If it was me, I'd switch it off. If it thought that the Dominion would serve its own purposes better, it would betray us all. But you people are different. You're too trusting. Well, beware!”

“Sarudar, this poison: is suicide an important part of your culture?” Vero asked.

“Death ain't nice, but it beats being thrown to a creepy or being taken alive by Nezhuala.” He paused.

That name again.

“Just keep Betafor away from me.” Azeras turned and stared out of the window again. After some moments he spoke. “I will say that this is a nice view.” His voice was softer. “I love the sea. Never been on a world with a real sea, mind you. Not a big one. An ocean. But we always had the images.” He shook his head as if remembering something. “You know, once I learned the ship was destroyed I was tempted to make a break for the sea at Ilakuma. Walk across the ridge. Build a hut, live off fish. But the wound didn't heal. Yes, you have real seas.”

He stared out of the window for a few moments longer and then turned his haggard face to Merral. “So, who knows I am here?”

“Barely a dozen people. Betafor was insistent on secrecy.”

“Good. If you decide that I may be of some use to you, I'll need to hide. And take my advice, terminate Betafor. That thing will betray you if it can. You trust too much!”

“Will the Dominion hunt for you?” Vero asked.

“Not for me.” Azeras stopped and Merral felt there was something significant about his pause. “Not if they think we all perished with the ship.” Azeras peered at Merral. “The ship
was
totally destroyed?”

“Yes,” Merral said. “All we have are fragments.”

“Ah.”

Suddenly, a strange look crossed Azeras's face and Merral somehow found himself thinking of the old word
crafty.
But he said nothing more.

There was a knock at the door and a nurse entered. “I'm afraid this man needs a break,” he said in a tone that allowed no disagreement.

“Very well,” Merral replied. “We have all got plenty to consider. Sarudar Azeras, may we talk again this afternoon?”

“If you want. Just keep that Allenix unit away from me.”

“We will.”

Two hours later, Merral stood next to Vero watching a large wallscreen showing a mosaic of smaller images. Most of the images were of half-painted corridors, but a central one showed a man lying—apparently asleep—on a medical cot with a white sheet draped over his body, his right arm on top.

“I don't like this,” Merral protested.

“We have to test what Azeras said.”

“It's close to tempting someone.”

“My friend, she's a machine. Can a machine be tempted?”

“What did you tell her?”

Vero rubbed his nose. “I mentioned that the monitoring camera in his room—room five I told her—was going to be switched off. I also said Azeras said little and that he was heavily sedated. In a rather loud voice I told the man who was guarding her that we were going to the beach and that he ought to go for lunch.”

“If we ever survive all this, I can see our actions being endlessly debated in ethics classes. ‘Evaluate the morality of D'Avanos and Enand in their dealings with the Allenix unit. Use no more than five thousand words.'”

“My friend, I'll take that risk in order that people have the luxury to discuss ethics. Ah, here she comes.” He pointed to the left-hand screen, where a green figure walked down a corridor on four legs. “So she defeated the lock. Not surprising; our technology in that area is rather simple.”

Betafor's head swung from side to side with an oddly regular motion and Merral was surprised at how delicate her movements were.

“Zoom in,” Merral commanded. Soon he could see that she walked on extended digits.

“On tiptoe,” Vero muttered and tapped a microphone button. “She's on her way,” he whispered.

A green acknowledgment light flashed and, a moment later, Vero said, “Entering the room now.”

The green light flashed again.

“Full wall,” Vero ordered. “Give us sound.”

The image of the ward suddenly took up the whole screen. There was the sound of heavy breathing and—far harder to hear—soft footfalls.

Betafor stopped, moved into her crouching position and with her right forelimb reached inside her tunic. She pulled out a small silver packet, split it apart with a faint pop, and pulled something pale out of it.

“
Now!” Merral ordered.

With remarkable speed, the figure on the bed flung the sheet off, swung his feet onto the floor, and pulled out a big double-barreled gun.

Betafor gave a strange mechanical squeal and bounded back.

“Put your hands up, you evil little machine!” Lloyd's voice echoed in the room. “One move and you are dead . . . recycled . . . whatever.”

“We'd better intervene,” Merral said, and as he followed Vero out of the room, he heard Betafor's voice squealing in protest, “That is not fair! A nasty trick!”

They raced down the corridor and burst into the ward. Lloyd, still seated on the bed, glared at Betafor, who sat on the floor with her forelimbs held up high. Her thin tail swept from side to side across the floor in agitation.

“Keep them up!” Lloyd snapped.

“Betafor, what are you doing here?” Merral asked.

“Visiting my officer. I was . . . bored. No . . . anxious. Sentinel Vero said you were going to the beach.”

“Did he? And what's this?” Merral slipped a surgical glove on his hand and picked up the plastic disk on the floor.

“Medicine. A . . . vitamin supplement.”

Merral stared at her, but read nothing from her expression. “Really?” He picked up the foil casing and stared at it. “I can't read the writing, Betafor, but the image is that of a skull. An unusual image for a medicine.”

Merral slipped both items inside a medical sample bag and passed them to Vero.

“Betafor, if, as we suspect, this is poison, then you will be accused of attempted murder and punished appropriately. In the meantime, Sergeant Enomoto is going to take you to a new room—a storage room without windows where you will be more securely guarded and kept under surveillance. And please don't give the sergeant an excuse to fire.”

Lloyd gave her a tight smile. “Go ahead. Make my day.”

“Sorry, Lloyd?”

“It's an ancient threat, sir. Very effective under such circumstances.”

“I see. Now, Betafor, we want to see what else you have in your tunic.”

“You cannot do that.” The pupils of the eye contracted into tight black disks. “It is unethical. My pockets are private.”

“Tough,” Merral said, feeling unsympathetic. “People caught in the act of attempted murder lose their rights. We need to see what's in them. Please give us your jacket.”

“I refuse to take my clothes off. I am female. It would be sexual harassment.”

Lloyd gave an explosive snort.

“Ah.” Merral looked at the other two for help and found none. “Well, go behind the screen there and hand it to us.”

“No.”

“Or else, I will order Lloyd here to shoot you and then take you to bits.”

“Slowly, with a very blunt screwdriver,” Lloyd added.

“No need to overdo it, Sergeant.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“As you wish,” Betafor said. She walked behind the screen and a moment later passed the jacket around the side.

Merral put the jacket—it was surprisingly heavy and there was some sort of electronic link on the inside—on the bed and went through the four inner pockets emptying the contents onto the table. There were a few small bottles and some small containers.

“What are these?”

“Lubricants, spare parts, adapters.”

“We will check them and return them to you,” Merral said, and handed the jacket back.

A minute later the creature emerged, with what seemed to be some sort of test pattern flickering across the sides of her tunic.

“Betafor,” Merral announced, “Azeras said you would do this. You are no longer bonded electronically to him, but if he dies, we'll consider you the prime suspect, and you will be . . .”

“Terminated, sir?”

“Thank you, Sergeant. The exact word:
terminated
.”

17

A
fter making sure that Betafor was secure and handing the disk in for med-lab analysis, Merral and Vero found Perena, who had returned from Isterrane, and brought her up to date as they went to room six.

Azeras sat up in bed as they entered.

Merral introduced Perena.

“A lady captain,” Azeras said, and gave Perena a long and intense look.

She flushed, and taking a chair, moved it so that she was out of his field of view.

Merral looked first at Perena and then at Azeras.
What's going on?

Azeras turned to him. “So, have you decided on your verdict?”

“Not yet; it's a hard decision.”
That's an understatement
. “We want to hear more. And I wanted Perena to be present.”

The gray eyes gazed at Merral. “Without a decision there is a limit to what I can tell you about what you face.”

“We need to know more before we decide what to do with you,” Merral replied. “Let me start with the Dominion. You say they are coming?”

“Yes. They followed us into your system as far as they dared. But they will be back.”

“It would help us if we knew the background here, about the Dominion and the Freeborn and why you came to Farholme. All we knew is that Jannafy's Rebellion ended at the battle at Centauri. But we now realize that our understanding is not accurate.”

“The word
rebellion
would be disputed.” There was an undercurrent of annoyance in Azeras's voice. “But as we found out when we accessed your Library, you and we have different histories.”

“Fill us in with your version.”

“As you wish. According to our history the Freeborn peoples escaped from the Assembly after moves were made to have their ideas and freedoms suppressed.”

“That is hardly—,” began Merral and then stopped. “Sorry.”

“‘Hardly
true,
' you were going to say?” Azeras flashed a cruel smile. “Indeed, but what is true in history? But what is a fact is that what
you
call ‘the Rebellion,'
we
call the ‘War of Separation.' And our tale runs in this manner. After taking Centauri in 2104, Jannafy and his leaders debated what to do. They had been driven from the solar system and were now on the defensive.”

Azeras paused to sip from a glass of water and as he did, Merral recognized that Azeras's language had shifted to an older form of Communal.
What I am hearing now
is a tale that has been told and retold for well over a hundred centuries.
He felt a sense of awe.

“Some of the Freeborn, as they now styled themselves, wanted a new all-out onslaught on Earth, but Jannafy's counsel was this: they would flee the vicinity of the Assembly altogether. He knew from their research that they could go deep into the Nether-Realms and emerge many light-years away. He was aware that an assault by the Assembly was inevitable, but as his forces held the Centauri Gate, he knew the assault could not be for some years. Calculations suggested that not even the fastest sublight-speed ships could reach them from Earth before the last months of 2110. His counsel prevailed and a desperate project was undertaken to prepare a migration fleet to take the Freeborn toward the edge of the galaxy. There were already seeder and colony vessels at Centauri; from them Jannafy constructed a fleet of seven ships. The calculations were performed and the ships were prepared for launching. But there were delays and the launch date slipped again and again so that it was midsummer of 2110 before the ships were ready.”