Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

(Oh…)

“—but you are meant to be observing sensations and context, to help you integrate it,” Tracy-Ace continued. “It would be better if I kept quiet now and let you watch.”

Legroeder breathed slowly and deeply, trying to stifle the thoughts racing through his mind. A hundred images flashed by every second. After a while, he was only dimly aware of the Flux outside the tube wall; he almost came to feel that it was normal to be surrounded by swirling patterns of light woven through with holographic images, and the murmuring of recorded voices, some in languages he could not identify. It was like listening to multiple conversations and understanding none of them—but absorbing it all, so that later, perhaps, he would be able to sort and translate and comprehend. From within, the implants murmured repeatedly…

// …relax and listen, do not concern yourself with comprehension… //

All right, then, he wouldn’t…

Several times, they passed tube intersections in a molten blur. And then, at last, he was startled to see a habitat looming over his head and drawing closer; he was ascending headfirst toward a terminus. How in the world had they flipped without his noticing? In other tubes, he could see capsules dropping away from the habitat like beads down a chute. Overhead, Tracy-Ace was disappearing into the building.

As his own capsule decelerated and entered the structure, Legroeder was aware that he had just acquired, in several minutes, considerable knowledge about this Free Kyber world known as Ivan. Not that he could put his finger on any of it this instant, but he knew that it was tucked away somewhere in his cranium. His implants were likely to be working long into the night, sorting it all out.

The capsule came to rest on a platform distinguishable only by color—blue—from the one they had left behind. As he stepped out beside Tracy-Ace, he felt an unexpected pleasure, as if he were glad to see her, an old and comfortable friend. He stopped in his tracks, stunned by the feeling. Why did he suddenly feel as if he had known her for years?

“What?” Tracy-Ace said.

He let out his breath, banishing the thought. “Nice ride,” he muttered.

She peered at him with obvious curiosity. “We go this way,” she said, pointing to the left.

As they moved on, he began to suspect that she was puzzling over him as much as he was over her. (Did you pass personal information between us during that download link?) Legroeder muttered to his implants.

// If you mean information about your past, and your true identity, no. //

(Good.)

// But there was a certain amount of handshaking involved, and personal protocol exchange. Most of it was strictly augment-exchange protocol. //

(Do I hear a “but”—?)

// But there had to be certain personal-preference exchanges to establish how and what would be transferred. To establish “trust,” as it were. That could be part of what you sense. //

He wondered uneasily just how much “personal preference” information had been exchanged. How could protocol exchanges make him feel not just warmth, but a certain actual attraction toward this pirate whom he hardly knew? These augments were beginning to scare him.

// We’re only here to serve. //

(Mm.)

“…be staying here in this sector,” Tracy-Ace was saying. “This is where we put visitors and people who are… between jobs. You know, like unemployed heroes.” She flashed a grin at him—and he flushed, realizing that he felt such a palpable attraction that he had to shove his hands firmly in his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching her. He countered the thought by thinking about his imprisoned comrades, and wondering when he might dare to ask about them.

Tracy-Ace had quickened her long-legged stride. They walked, rode lift-tubes, walked some more. When they finally stopped at a closed door, they might have been in the hallway of a cheap apartment building anywhere in the known galaxy. Tracy-Ace pressed her hand to the plate beside the door. “Number 7494,” she said. “Remember that.” The door paled and she ushered him into a room the size of a crew cabin on a starship. “Your new home.”

Legroeder surveyed the place. It was plain but neat: narrow bunk, tiny desk with com, table, sling chair. Perfect for a monk. Heaven, compared to what he’d lived in for seven years at DeNoble. His bag, which he had last seen in his cabin on Flechette , was sitting on the bunk. They were efficient here. He could forget about any hopes he might have had about sneaking back one day to transmit a message from Flechette .

// That was hardly a serious option, you know. //

(Well, yes, but…)

// The underground. Finding the underground is your only real option now. //

(I am aware of that, thank you.)

“You ought to be comfortable here,” Tracy-Ace was saying.

“Thank you.” He struggled to find words, and hoped she wasn’t reading his thoughts. “I guess—it’ll take time to learn my way around. And to figure out—I don’t know—what I’ll be useful for.” It was starting to hit him all over again how alone he was here. With the unraveling of the Narseil plan to get in, get info, and get out, it was really all up to him. Suppose he couldn’t contact the underground. What then? Sign on to another ship, and try to broadcast a message in flight, before they killed him? H’zzarrelik would wait out there for fifteen days before heading back with their prisoners. Once they were gone, there would be nobody to broadcast to .

“You’ll learn fast,” Tracy-Ace said, touching his arm. “I’m going to set you up with some study programs, to get you oriented.”

He’d felt an electric tingle at her touch, and was trying to pretend he hadn’t.

“We’ll find things for you to do, don’t worry.”

He forced a nervous smile. “Okay—what’s next, then?”

“What’s next is I go back to work. And you—you look like you could use some sleep. When you’re ready, here’s where you can call up the study programs.” She stepped over to the desk and showed him the controls. “Why don’t I come back later to show you around?”

He nodded, covering his surprise. He couldn’t deny being pleased by the personal attention. “I guess I could stand to sleep a few hours.” He was exhausted, actually, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off. “What time is it? When do you sleep?”

Tiny lights sparkled at the corners of her eyes. “It’s third-quarter evening. A lot of people will be on sleep cycle during the next six or eight hours. I’ll be working, myself; I don’t need much sleep. My programs handle REM processing right in the node, so I can pick up sleep functions while I work.”

Legroeder didn’t know whether to be envious or sympathetic.

“I’ll be free in about ten hours. Will that give you enough time? We have to confine you to quarters until your case has been reviewed. But if you get hungry, you can call up some snack pantry items on the com here. Anything else you need?”

Yes, he thought. The com address of the underground. “I guess not. Is it okay if I play with the com system a little?”

She gave him a look. “As long as you don’t try to access anything that it wants you to stay out of.” She touched his arm and moved toward the door. “Bye, then.” He couldn’t answer; he was mesmerized by the tingle. “Oh—if you need to reach me, use this code.” She turned to the desk com and placed an index finger on the reader-plate. “There, it’s stored for you.”

As she went out and the door opaqued behind her, he felt a pang of self-recrimination at the pleasure he’d just felt. She’s the enemy, remember? What the devil are you thinking?