Starlight(Pact Arcanum 4) (23 page)

Antonio grinned. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I meant to tell you earlier, but I got sidetracked. I figured out how we can turn this whole Nexus technology to our advantage. It’s the neurochip tech. The funny thing was, it wasn’t the neurochip software that gave me the idea, it was the chips themselves. Did you know they are derived from cloning technology?”

Rafael nodded. “Vaguely. Something to do with organ transplants.”

“Right. They used to grow up an anencephalic clone of a patient with no higher functions, and then harvest the organs. Then they got better at growing single organs, and the practice of growing entire bodies fell out of practice. The neurochips are only an extreme example of the altered organs that they were able to engineer.”

“So?”

“So, what if you grew a complete body except for the brain, and then created a neurochip brain and downloaded an AI into it?”

Rafael dropped his fork as he stared at Antonio, who was grinning madly. “You want to grow human bodies to house AIs?”

“Think about it. We give the humans and Sentinels the means to record their personalities after death, then offer them a duplicate body to continue their existence.”

“Digital resurrection.”

“Sort of. Alternately, the recorded AIs could leave the solar system, either dormant during flight or active and assisting the crew, and then on arrival they could be offered a clone body. They’d get to live out a full life on Earth, and then they get to make a fresh start somewhere else.”

“Interesting. There’s another aspect that you might not have considered, though.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“If you have a neurochip matrix dense enough to house a complete AI and maintain a human body, then you don’t have to restrict the controlling AI to just the mind recordings of organics. You could give the true AIs a chance to reach out and have a presence in the physical world.”

Antonio blinked. “You want me to give the Nexus the ability to walk around on two legs? That would certainly throw a wrench into the way society works.”

“It gets better. Suppose, instead of human clones, you created Daywalker clones, or Harbinger clones? Consider what it would mean for a human to suddenly be fused with an AI, then given access to an immortal body and the fount of magic that goes with it?”

Antonio looked lost in thought. “Everything would change. Radically. I’ll have to think about it.”

Rafael checked the chronometer printed on his hand. “It’s getting late. I should probably go.”

Antonio smiled wistfully. “I wish I was there in person.”

Rafael cocked his head. “Why?”

“I’d put some music on, and ask you to dance before you left.”

“Tony, I—”

“Would you have turned me down?”

Rafael looked at Antonio and saw his face warring to show determination and resignation at once. “I don’t know,” he said softly.

Antonio looked thunderstruck, then recovered. “Maybe you should hold that thought, and think about it some more later.”

Rafael nodded. “Yeah, I guess I will.”

Antonio grinned. “Thanks for dinner, Raf. I enjoyed myself.”

“So did I.”

The virtual environment terminated, and Rafael was alone in the apartment again. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

What the hell am I doing?

C
HAPTER 37

November 2142; Northwest of Juneau, Alaska; One week later

“Absolutely not!” screamed Nick. “You’ll do this over my dead body.”

“Get in line,” said Rory, his eyes red and fangs showing.

“Calm down, both of you,” replied Lorcan, his voice cold. “This is my decision, and I’ve made it.”

Nick clenched his fists at his sides. “And what made you decide something so insane? Can you tell us that?”

Lorcan sighed and dropped into an overstuffed easy chair. “William pointed out that no matter what I say to get the other houses on board with the Grace, as long as an alternative exists, they’ll choose to avoid making a decision.”

Rory snorted in disgust. “Remind me to kick William’s ass the next time I see him.”

“Look at it from my point of view, guys. You’ve put me in an impossible situation. Without some leverage on the other houses, they’ll refuse to join me, and they’ll be wiped out when the inevitable happens. My failure will make me responsible for the destruction of Nightwalker civilization unless I take steps to preserve it. The stockpiles exist; therefore, the other houses think there’s time for them to debate the issue. Sooner or later, the Night’s Herald is going to pick up on my negotiations and change the security arrangements around the bloodwine depot.”

“Since when does the Herald tell you what to do?” asked Nick. “You’re the Huntmaster. It’s his job to enforce your will, not the other way around.”

“If he proposes a reasonable security precaution, I won’t have any honorable basis to refuse. Besides, if I openly place the stockpile at risk and it’s destroyed, I’ll be signing my own death warrant. I’ll be deposed and executed for treason.”

“And when you get caught trying to destroy the depot on your own, they’ll kill you anyway,” said Rory. “It’s suicide—you
know
that!”

“I just have to get inside for ten minutes. Time enough to cast the spell. The bloodwine will break down, and no one will be the wiser unless they crack open one of the bottles and taste it. Ten minutes, and I’m out. I’ll have my AI wipe the security logs, and no one will ever know I was there.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Wait just one damn minute. You said you were going to destroy the bloodwine stocks. You never said anything about a spell to degrade it without breaking the bottles. That’s Scott’s spell. It nullifies the preservative cantrip that keeps the blood fresh. I gave that research to Ghian. Did he put you up to this?”

“I’ll kill him,” whispered Rory, his voice deepening in rage. “I’ll rip his fucking heart out and make him eat it. He may be the Wind of Earth, but he can’t fight someone he can’t hurt.”

“Enough!” shouted Lorcan. “Someone has to destroy the damn stockpile, and I’m the only one in a position to do it. Now back off!”

The three of them stood in the middle of the living room of the cabin, glaring at each other.

“Ruarc, don’t do this,” said Nick softly. “Please. We’ll find another way.”

“I’ll do it myself,” said Rory. “Just get me inside. What can they do to me?”

Lorcan and Nick both turned to face him, wearing identical expressions of fury.

“Are you deranged?” asked Lorcan. “If they capture you, the entire Nightwalker race will die. You have to be free to convert the ones that join us; otherwise, none of them will survive.”

“So you can take the risk, but I can’t?” asked Rory, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Nice double standard you have there.”

Lorcan snarled, his fangs extending in challenge. “You are not expendable.”

Nick raised his hand and stroked Lorcan’s cheek lightly with his fingertips. “I have never wanted to punch you as much as I do right now.”

Lorcan blinked. “What?”

“You think you’re expendable,” said Nick. “Like your life is a strategic asset to be used.” He stepped forward and cupped Lorcan’s face in his hands. “You’re wrong.”

Lorcan wrapped his hands around the back of their necks, pulling them closer. “I love you both, more than anything. But I have to do this, if only to keep my self-respect. Don’t you see? If I don’t, then how many of my people will die because of me?”

Rory laid his head on Lorcan’s shoulder. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Nick sighed. “No unnecessary risks. You get in, take out the depot, and get out immediately.” He reached back to grasp Lorcan’s left hand where it touched his neck. “Let me see your ring.”

Lorcan drew back his hand and stared at the gold band on his finger. “Why?”

“Trust me.”

Lorcan frowned, but removed the ring and put it in Nick’s waiting hand.

Nick held the ring in his right palm, then carefully pressed the claw of his left index finger into the flesh showing through the center of the ring. As his blood welled up and soaked the ring, Nick chanted softly. The blood flowed around the surface of the ring, forced by the magic into a series of glowing red runes. “Each of you, drip some of your blood on the ring, one at a time.”

Lorcan cut his fingertip with one claw, and held it over the ring, allowing three drops of his blood to fall on the metal before the injury healed.

Rory laid open his left palm and allowed his blood to pool in his cupped hand for a few seconds before the Grace repaired the damage. Then he poured out his blood onto the ring as well.

Nick began to chant again, and more of the glowing runes formed. The blood was absorbed by the spell, and suddenly, the gold band lay clean and quiescent in his hands, the runes fading away. Nick handed it back to Lorcan. “Never take it off.”

“What did you do?” asked Rory.

“I linked our lives to the ring.” He let his gaze rise to meet Lorcan’s. “A drop of your blood on the metal will trigger the spell and link your mind to ours. If you run into trouble, activate the spell and run. Don’t wait to finish the mission, just escape and keep ahead of them until we can protect you.”

Lorcan stared at him. “Protect me how?”

“Rory and I will wait for you in the catacombs outside the Council Chamber Complex. If things go bad, signal us, and Rory will use the Grace to take down the defense wards long enough for me to carpet the entire facility with Sigils of Purification.”

Lorcan’s face went slack with shock. “There are tens of thousands of Nightwalkers in the Complex at any given time! You’d kill them all just to save me?”

“Yes,” said Rory.

“In a heartbeat,” said Nick.

Lorcan looked from them to the ring and back again. Then he slipped the ring back on his finger. “With luck, that won’t be necessary.”

T
HE
R
ING

C
HAPTER 38

November 2142; Sanctuary, French Alps

Rafael couldn’t sleep. He paced his quarters like a caged panther in total darkness.
What the hell am I thinking? He’s less than a third of my age. I’ve known him his entire life! Why am I even considering him like…that?
He pushed away the image that leapt to mind immediately, a product of the intensely erotic and completely inappropriate dream that had left him awake and restless in the middle of the night.

Finally, he dropped into a chair and turned on the lights. His new quarters were relatively spartan compared to his old apartment at the Citadel. His personal belongings were still mostly in boxes, except for a few essential items and mementos he had set aside. His eyes drifted to the hologram on his desk.

In the picture, he had his arm around Antonio, both of them wearing their dress uniforms. His own was the solid green of the Spacer Guild, with five gold bars on his left breast to mark him a Full Captain. Antonio wore the gray uniform with green piping that labeled him an Academy Cadet, the brand new silver bar on his left lapel awarded on his promotion to the second stage of training.

Rafael got to his feet and walked to the desk. He lifted the framed image for a closer look, and tried to find a sign in the younger Antonio’s expression, some inkling of the feelings the Starchild said had always been there.
He looks so happy.
Jeremy was behind the camera, but no one else from the family had attended the ceremony.

For a moment, it was as if we were alone in the room, and he didn’t seem sad about that.
More than that, he looked ecstatic to be standing there, in the shadow of Rafael’s arm.
I am an idiot. How could I not have seen? I thought it was just hero worship, that he was grateful that I saved him.

He shuddered and put the photo down. He wrapped his arms protectively around himself against the memories that rose unbidden from that night, eight decades buried and forgotten.

THEN: August 2062; the Citadel, Lunar Farside; eighty years earlier

Rafael palmed the security sensor next to his door impatiently. The light flashed green and the door unlocked. He pushed it open, his eyes adjusting instantly to the shadows within his unlit apartment. Antonio was nowhere in sight, and he couldn’t hear a heartbeat anywhere in the room. He took two steps forward before the scent slammed into him.

Blood.

A
lot
of blood.

Rafael barreled forward, the Red Wind honing his senses to razor-sharp clarity as he pinpointed the source of the tantalizing aroma by the flow of air currents. Not bothering to turn on the lights, he leapt over the sofa and ran into the library to find a huddled body in the center of the floor. Antonio’s scent was strong in the room, even under the overwhelming miasma of blood, and only his terror for his young friend kept the hunger at bay—prevented him from slaking his thirst from the pool of black liquid on the floor that he could see in the faint, blue light from his computer terminal.