S. L. Viehl - Illumination

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2024-12-20 0 0 1.15MB 131 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

For my friend Jessie,

computer goddess, crash savior, and daydream believer,

who wanted to hear the other side of the story.

Encrypted File

092002573

She sleeps as I write this.

Her quarters are far from my own, but I have not planted any recording drones to

watch her. Close proximity and remote surveillance have never been necessary – I have

been aware of her from the first, and the connection between us grows stronger each

day. She is unaware of it, or deliberately ignores it.

I cannot. She is always with me now.

I have never established a connection as intense or of such lasting duration as

this. The detail is astonishing; when I concentrate, I can feel the adrenalin pumping in

her veins and the precise focus of her thoughts as she works. My limbs ache with the

ghost weight of her exhaustion after she finishes a double shift in Medical. I can count

her breaths, smell her scent, and occasionally – to my dismay – even taste what she

eats.

Through her, I have discovered needs that I never knew existed. They twist

inside me, these peculiar, foreign demands – and I am almost certain they are not

coming from her. The old priest Arembel, who cared for the injured after bouts in the

arena, once told me how it could be, but I did not expect this.

I did not expect her.

I reached into her subconscious tonight, and for the first time, I saw what she

dreams. I assumed that such a dedicated surgeon would dream of patients and

instruments and procedures, and braced myself to be ill. Instead, I walked with her

under purple-leafed trees in the moonlight – the same groves where one died, and

another was saved.

The good doctor dreams of me.

I have accessed the Terran database dozens of times, and studied the pertinent

psychological data. Contrary to old Arembel’s superstitions, it indicates that what I have

felt, and what I continue to experience is the product of an emotional fixation. Ana

Hansen, the empathic Terran administrator on Kevarzangia Two, also believed the

same.

I am not convinced. I am human, but I have never possessed human emotions.

I have tried every mental technique I know to terminate this connection between

us, but it cannot be severed. I cannot rid myself of her.

I must decide what to do tonight.

If I could change anything, I would return to that moment, more than two years

ago now, when the decision was made to send me back to spy on my kind. I would go

back and ask him not to send me.

At the time, however, I was more than willing.

“You must go to Kevarzangia Two, HalaVar.”

I watched my reptilian blood brother pace around the command console.

TssVar’s tail thrashed with agitation, but I suspected that was due to the emergency

signal from the sub-Hanar, the second-most powerful member of the Hsktskt Faction.

Signals from the homeworld rarely brought good news; politicians, almost never.

"Indeed." I disliked associating with other humanoids, but if he was planning to

raid a heavily-populated region, I would have to go. “How may I serve useful among

fodder?”

“Your talents, along with the credentials we have falsified, will enable you to pose

as a colonial linguist.” His yellow eyes met mine. “There are concerns about military

activity in the region. The Pmoc Quadrant is heavily populated by multi-species

colonies. Command wants data on their strengths, weaknesses, and potential defense

capabilities. League members are claiming too many worlds in the border territories

through trade and treaty, and where colonists plant themselves, troops follow.”

That was extremely unwise of the Allied League of Worlds, given that the Hsktskt

had been raiding just outside that Quadrant for some time and considered it part of their

territory. “The sub-Hanar suspects a mobilization?”

“The sub-Hanar suspects everything.” TssVar handed me a disc. “Here is the

latest intelligence. You leave tomorrow.”

I examined the disc as I formulated a properly reluctant response. “I do not know

how effective I will prove. I have not lived among warm-bloods for decades.” The short

time that I had, they had incarcerated me.

“You have the gift of adaptation that our other scouts lack. I suspect you may be

stationed away from us for some time.” TssVar briefly clamped a taloned hand on my

shoulder, a Hsktskt gesture that expressed far more than commiseration or sympathy. “I

will know your absence, brother.”

He owed me his life, and actually treated me like a true sibling. He would feel

differently, had he known that I was the traitor sabotaging Hsktskt raids and slave

transports for the past ten revolutions. I knew if he ever discovered my duplicity, TssVar

would tear out my throat with his own teeth and claws.

“And I yours.” I rose, saluted him, and withdrew to my quarters.

I had waited a long time for such an assignment. Operating alone outside

Faction territory would allow me unparalleled freedom, yet I felt leery of dwelling among

humanoids. I had been isolated from my native species from birth, and had served as a

Hsktskt Lord and adopted member of the Faction since my adolescence. Every other

species I encountered were either slaves or slavers, so in a sense TssVar and his line

were the only family I had ever known.

The only humanoids I knew were slaves.

I felt no loyalty to my blood brother, nor to the few of my kind whom I helped

escape from the Faction. I merely sought balance for what had been done to me. I

betrayed the Hsktskt for the three revolutions they had force me to fight in slaver arenas.

Saving lives seemed the most adequate expiation for the many I had taken.

Hala! Hala!

My owner, a centuron with a heavy fist who liked to beat her slaves as much as

she enjoyed starving them, had given me that name after I began killing on the sands.

Her cronies soon took to chanting it every time I entered the arena, and my reputation

for efficiency began drawing crowds.

Hala

in the reptilians’ tongue meant “Death,” and death is what I gave them.

I killed anyone and anything they put on the sands with me, until the day a

Hsktskt Lord fell between me and my opponent. Without thinking, I shielded TssVar

from a killing blow. By doing so, I inadvertently thwarted a rather clever assassination

attempt by one of his more ambitious subordinates. The Hsktskt Lord was quickly

rescued, and later ordered that I be brought to him.

I expected to be interrogated and perhaps killed, so seeing him kneel before me

to remove my chains was something of a shock.

You will be called HalaVar,

he said, and bowed to me.

Warrior of death.

TssVar did more than free me and give me a formal name. He made me a

Faction citizen and took me into his own line, making me a member of his immediate

family. He trained me to enter the military, and had me assigned to his command. My

quest for balance and my position as TssVar’s blood brother had taken me from the

sands of the arena into the ranks of the most powerful raider division within the Faction.

I had not anticipated infiltrating the Hsktskt to such a level, and I was able to do much to

sabotage the Faction from within. I had even begun planning what to do about the

various slaver depot worlds under Faction control.

Plans that would have to wait, now that they were sending me back to spy on

their future slaves.

There was no question of what to do. If I was successful, I would make a place

for myself among the warm-blooded. I would analyze their defenses and their armed

forces, then relay enough false information about both to spare Kevarzangia Two and

the other inhabited worlds in its system.

If I failed, I still had one other option.

I decided to resort to that option a year later.

“You should eat something,

mon ami

.”

I had not been long on K-2 before I encountered Lisette Dubois, a female Terran I

had known during a brief enrollment at an educational facility on our homeworld. She

made it apparent that she still retained the odd affection she had displayed toward me

during our youth, which puzzled me. The human penchant for nostalgia always did.

Although consuming Terran foods held little appeal for me – my palate had long

ago adapted to non-human fare – I used it as an excuse to stop at Lisette’s café several

times per week. She had proved to be an excellent source of information about new

transfers.

She was also the closest thing I had to a friend.

“I only have time for

café noir

.” I sat at an empty table, positioned between two

groups of transport workers with their snouts buried in enormous bowls of colorful

chopped plants. Deciding where and how I would complete my mission would only take

a few minutes. “Did you wish to speak with me?”

“I have a better time talking to myself these days.” She brought me a cup of bitter

dark liquid, one of the few items on her menu I genuinely enjoyed. Many male eyes

followed her, as she was quite tall, shapely, and attractively colored – for a Terran. “If

you are not careful, Duncan, someday you will open your mouth to say something and

only dust will fly out.”

I should have reviewed Terran conversational standards more carefully, but now

there was no reason to do so. “I rarely have anything of interest to tell you.” I could not

tell her what I was planning to do.

“Pffft, you see – it is already happening.” Lisette waved a hand in front of my face

and then left me to tend to a group of new customers.

I felt no hesitation at the prospect of my final option. I did not wish to return to the

Faction; TssVar would eventually discover my deception and kill me. If I sought

sanctuary from the League, I would likely be compelled to reveal my previous activities.

They would either imprison me, or use me to spy on the Hsktskt. Since coming to K-2, I

had passed only false or exaggerated information to the Faction, but I could not

continue to do so indefinitely. TssVar would soon recall me to scout another, more

profitable system.

I had not achieved the balance I had sought, but I could not go on pretending that

I would. I would never save as many lives as I had taken in the arena. What I had done

would have to be enough.

It was time.

Obtaining what I needed presented a minor problem. I owned several pulse

weapons, but using them would trigger the colony surface security grid. Subsequent

medical attention might foil my attempt, so it would not be advisable to use any weapon

which might summon assistance. I disliked the thought of using a blade – I had seen

many do the same in the slave cages before arena games, and it took too long.

I preferred something more efficient.

The most logical solution was chemical, but as I had no knowledge of drugs or

access to medical stores, it would be difficult to obtain them. The Bartermen might

possess what I needed to accomplish the task, but I was not inclined to trade with them

for what I could steal myself. What I needed to know was the precise compound and

amount that would bring a swift resolution. I would have to access the medical database

and make a discreet inquiry, then visit the FreeClinic to retrieve the drugs.

Satisfied that I had found the proper solution to my problem, I finished my coffee,

and was preparing to leave when I became aware of something strange.

Someone was near. Someone like me.

My years in the arena had helped me develop a kind of proximity sense, a

defense against unexpected assaults or attacks while I was asleep. This was like that

sensation . . . but at the same time, it was not. I concentrated, opening my mind in order

to locate the source.

“Here we are,” a familiar female voice said. “Lisette Dubois’s foster family owned

a restaurant in Paris.”

I saw Administrator Ana Hansen escorting an unfamiliar Terran female through

the café. The strange woman was quite short, barely five feet in height, and very thin.

She wore her dark hair in a woven cable, clipped against the back of her head. Her hair

appeared clean, if somewhat in need of better grooming, and there was an overcast to it

– a faint, silver sheen I had only seen among elderly Terrans. Yet from the texture of her

skin, I assumed she was quite young. Her features betrayed some elusive ethnic

ancestry I could not identify.

The little Terran female noticed a group near my table, and as she watched them

the corners of her mouth went up – she smiled, I corrected myself – before she

encountered my own gaze.

I did not find her particularly attractive in any physical sense – she had as much

allure as a malnourished child – and Administrator Hansen’s presence indicated she was

a new transfer to the colony. I always avoided humans like her, but I felt a compulsion

to continue watching her. I wanted to speak to her and learn her name.

Yet I had no justification for the interest.

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2FormyfriendJessie,computergoddess,crashsavior,anddaydreambeliever,whowantedtoheartheothersideofthestory.5"Indeed."Idislikedassociatingwithotherhumanoids,butifhewasplanningtoraidaheavily-populatedregion,Iwouldhavetogo.“HowmayIserveusefulamongfodder?”“Yourtalents,alongwiththecredentialswehavefalsifie...

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