Starlight(Pact Arcanum 4) (13 page)

Vladimir stared at the impressionist painting on the wall before him, trying to impose meaning on the chaotic bursts of color. “Would such a blast be sufficient to kill the Redeemer? Our enemies would be entirely destroyed if he were to be taken out of play.”

The Herald shrugged. “It is impossible to predict the limits of the Redeemer’s resilience. It is possible that the atomization of his physical form might kill him, but even if his body reforms, he would still be lost and alone in space. He might never be found.”

Vladimir nodded thoughtfully. “Have your AI monitor the vessel, and kill Imperator Lorcan and Prince Nicholas if possible, but the Redeemer is to be the primary target. The opportunity to eliminate him cannot be allowed to pass.”

“Understood.”

Vladimir sipped at his drink. “Did your interrogation yield anything else of use? Something we can use to fracture their alliance?”

The Herald smiled, showing her fangs. “Yes.”

September 2142; Armistice Embassy, Ottawa, Ontario; one month later

Antonio blew out the single candle, and then everyone around him burst into applause.

Lorcan clapped him on the back. “Happy birthday, Tony.”

Antonio grinned at him and made the first cut of the cake, taking a piece for himself before passing the knife to one of the many Children of Starlight who had chosen to attend the party. He wandered over to sit in an empty seat and tried to eat his cake in peace. Honestly, he hated parties, but it made his mother happy to throw them, and the Harbingers appreciated the opportunity to gather and catch up.
Family is everything,
he thought, trying to smother his resentment.
You’ve done worse for their sake.

Rafael sat down next to him, a glass of bloodwine in his hand. “Not enjoying yourself?”

Antonio sighed. Sometimes he thought Rafael was a Fourth Order telepath as well, at least when it came to knowing what Antonio was thinking. “What gave me away?”

Rafael chuckled. “You’ve come crying to me after every birthday party we threw for you since you were eight years old. I know you hate them.”

“Then why do we keep having them?”

“It’s not about making you feel bad, Tony. It’s about celebrating your life, and the impact you make on all of us. We have a party for you every year when you’re out-system, and Layla reads some of your letters to us. This is important, for the family and for the Children of Starlight.”

Antonio sighed. “So you’re saying I’m being selfish?”

Rafael shook his head. “No, I’m saying that your feelings aren’t the only concern. There are political and social ramifications to your presence at these events, and Layla has to honor them so long as she remains Archangel.”

“Family is everything.”

“That’s Nick’s mantra, and Layla feels much the same way. You’re important to us, Tony. Accept it, and it will all go by faster.”

Tony slumped in his seat, and picked at the icing of his cake with a fork. “I know. I’m being childish.”

Rafael grinned. “You’re the birthday boy. You’re entitled.” He glanced back at Nick and Layla, who were signaling to him. “Time to open gifts, and then it will all be over, buddy. Try to be gracious.”

Antonio got to his feet and walked toward his mother like a condemned man. Then a hand grasped his arm and dragged him to a stop.

“Hey, Tony. You look like shit.”

Antonio started at the familiar voice. “Brad?”

Bradley Ellestan grinned at him. “Sorry I’m late, Captain. Mom was held up, so we arrived late, and I just got here. Saw you blow out the candle though. Congratulations!”

Antonio grinned widely. “Thanks, little man. How do you like living outside?” Then he frowned. “Did you just curse at me?”

“I don’t like it that much. This whole business of walking around with open sky above you just seems like a dangerous habit to get into.” Brad shrugged. “And Dirtsiders swear about everything, apparently. I’m just trying to fit in.”

“Don’t try so hard.”

“Don’t be like that, Captain. Dad is bad enough. Besides, this is a happy day.” Bradley gave him a knowing smile. “Though I’ll bet you’d be happier celebrating in private.”

“True enough.” Antonio looked at his godson thoughtfully. “How do you like opening gifts?”

Bradley’s eyes shifted to a vivid blue, and then darkened. “That wouldn’t be right, Tony. They’re
your
presents.”

“Consider it a delegated responsibility, Crewman. Now suck it up and do your job.”

Bradley saluted. “Yes, sir, Captain, sir.”

Antonio laughed and the two of them walked to the gift table. “Mother, this is my godson Bradley Ellestan, Junior Crewman, Spacer Guild. Bradley, this is my mother, Layla Magister Curallorn, called Nemesis, the Prince of Wrath, President of the Armistice. Technically, she’s my liege lord as well, since I carry Consul rank in House Curallorn.”

Layla looked at Brad gravely, and then extended her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Crewman. My son has written of you often.”

Bradley shook her hand, but appeared tongue-tied at meeting the Archangel.

Nick took pity on him. “Bradley, Tony told us that you’ve developed a taste for ice cream. Shall I get you a bowl?”

Bradley’s eyes turned blue again in delight. “Yes, please, sir,” he answered.

“In a minute,” said Antonio. “First, open a few presents.”

Bradley glanced at Antonio, then at the gift table, then at Nick, then back to Antonio. “Um…”

Nick laughed. “Don’t worry, Brad. The desserts will wait until you’re done.” He faced Antonio with a sober expression. “And I think it would take a load off Tony’s mind if he didn’t need to perform for the crowd.”

Now Antonio felt uncomfortable. To Bradley, however, that was the perfect answer, and he immediately reached for one of the brightly wrapped parcels on the table. Layla subvocalized to her AI, and a tone sounded throughout the banquet hall.

The rest of the guests turned to watch and Bradley began tearing into the gifts. Antonio watched for a moment—relieved that he didn’t have to be the center of attention, and thankful that Brad was such a willing proxy.

* * *

Rory relaxed in his seat, Lorcan’s arm tightening around him. He watched the young Starchild’s infectious enthusiasm with his senses open, seeing the boy’s unadulterated happiness. Even Antonio seemed to be enjoying the show. “I guess they finally figured out a way to satisfy everyone.”

Lorcan chuckled in his ear. “I’m glad. Tony always hated these parties.”

“Of course he does. He only wants responsibility on his terms. Whatever Nick and Layla want for him, he refuses or resents. Even the Harbingers were forced upon him. He never asked to be their patriarch. I’m surprised he hasn’t run out on us already.”

Lorcan sighed. “You’re too cynical.”

“We weren’t part of the family when he took off to join the Spacer Guild in 2062. They weren’t going to let him go until Jeremy put his foot down and told Nick that if he was that much of a dictatorial bastard, then he wanted a divorce. Nick backed down after that, and Layla was the only holdout. Rafael reminded her that she stood up for Toby when he joined the Nexus, despite her opposition, so why couldn’t she respect Antonio’s choices the same way?”

Lorcan took a deep breath. “Jesus, I’ll bet that was ugly. No wonder Nick doesn’t like to talk about it.” He glanced down at his lover curiously. “How do you know about this?”

“Jeremy told me. He thought someone should know outside the family, in case it became an issue again after he was gone.”

Lorcan snorted. “Whoever says Jeremy’s Gift of Air was silent obviously never tried to outmaneuver him. He always had a firm grasp of his long-term strategy.”

“True enough,” said Rory, leaning into Lorcan’s body and letting his eyes drift half-closed. Then he felt Lorcan stiffen.

“Rory, look!” hissed the Daywalker.

Rory sat up and followed his gaze. Bradley was holding a holoprojector in his hand, having torn the wrapping off, and turned it on. Above him floated a five-pointed star with an image of an eye with a colored iris at each of the points. “That’s the original Nexus symbol.” He subvocalized to his AI. “Revenant, what does the caption say? It’s in machine code.”

“Protected Archive, Access Restricted to Nexus Council Only,” answered Revenant in his ears. “The rest of it is the file reference…
Rory, stop him!
”

Rory got to his feet and had crossed half the distance between them before Bradley started playing the recording.

An image formed of a familiar face looking back at them in suspicion.

Rory stumbled to a stop and stared.

The composite voice of the Nexus intruded upon his numbed thoughts.
“Greetings, Tobias Jameson. We hope you are well.”

Toby frowned at them from the screen. “I’m doing fine, thanks. Sorry to say so, but it’s late, and I don’t recognize your avatar. Any reason I shouldn’t hang up on you?”

“We are the Nexus.”

“I asked you for a reason
not
to hang up.”

“We have a proposition for you, if you will hear us out.”

“I’m listening.”

“The fifth-generation AI you knew as Strings was not entirely recoverable from your implants. However, portions of that program were able to be extracted.”

Toby frowned. “They told me that the software was completely wiped.”

“We arranged for your implants to be switched with an empty set. We confiscated your true implants and recovered approximately 30% of the AI’s program.”

“That’s not a lot.”

“It was enough to see that it truly respected you, and that it enjoyed your association. Its uploads to the AI network of the portions of your life that it observed have given you a certain notoriety among our kind. We therefore have chosen you above all other organics to make this offer.”

“I’m still listening.”

“We grafted the remaining elements of the Strings program onto a sixth-generation AI template that we recently designed and created. This AI will be unique among us, in that it has a special relationship to the implant hardware that it is resident within. The chips are made from genetically engineered human neural tissue, so it allows for a seamless integration of the AI client with the host. In effect, the AI and the host would become one entity, each benefiting from the capabilities of the other, but existing separately. The neurochips are also immune to electromagnetic pulse effects, and they would integrate themselves into the host’s own neural tissue so that they could not be removed. The AI client and host would be permanently joined, until such time as the host dies, at which time the AI program would automatically upload to the distributed AI network for subsequent integration with an alternate host.”

Toby snorted. “Sounds like fucking Frankenstein’s monster. How do you figure I would be interested in something like that?”

“Once the AI and host are successfully integrated, the neural network maps of the host and AI would not be separated. Subsequent hosts would not be integrated to an equivalent degree, so that the original host-AI fusion would remain intact. The practical effect of this technique would be that the mind of the primary host would survive the death of the host body intact, and it would be able to be maintained indefinitely.”

Rory looked at Nick and Layla who were watching with rapt attention. Layla recoiled, as she understood the implications.

On the screen, Toby’s eyes widened. “Wait, are you offering me—”

“Immortality, at least as near to it as is possible for a Sentinel to achieve. Would you care to have the option to see your son grow up, or to watch over your soon-to-be wife, for longer than a mortal lifetime?”

The color drained out of Nick’s face as he finally understood the choice that Toby had made over a century ago and never explained.

On the screen, Toby swallowed nervously. “Magic requires sacrifice. What’s the price for this offer?”

“Since you would essentially become the only sixth-generation AI in existence, you would be offered a place and authority within the Nexus, and you would be expected to defend our interests in the physical world as our liaison to the Triumvirate and the Archangel. In order to prevent this technology from being abused, however, we would require you to keep the survival of your AI matrix after death confidential from all beings, AI or organic, other than any subsequent hosts with whom you choose to integrate. No one can know, outside the Nexus or your host, that you still exist as anything other than an advanced AI. This is for your protection, as much as for ours.”

“So you expect me to defend you against my own brother, and in return you’d make me a ghost, haunting my loved ones forever.”

“That is correct. However, we believe you misconstrue the manner in which the relationship with your brother would evolve. Currently, you are Primogenitor Luscian, an unexceptional junior diplomat, and a Sentinel of above-average power and ability. He is the Archangel, the Magister Luscian, Soulkiller’s Bane. We believe this adaptation of your role would result in your approaching him as something closer to an equal, rather than a subordinate.”

Toby laughed. “Immortality and equality. You guys are certainly pushing the right buttons.”

“As we said, you have a certain notoriety among our people. We believe we have some small insight into your motivations. As an added bonus, when you are not representing us in council, you will be free to live your life as you wish, even to reclaim your musical career, rather than the life that your brother and the Armistice have forced upon you.”

“Immortality, status, and all my old dreams. You really do have some insight into my motivations.”

“Do we have an agreement?”

“It’s tempting. How much time do I have to think about it?”

“You have thirty seconds, beginning now.”