Impulse (8 page)

“Did I just miss something?” she said.

“Nothing important,” I replied. “What's up?”

“The Earth Historian is ready to meet with you,” she said.

“Tralfane? Now? I was beginning to think this ship didn't have a Historian,” I said.

Her smile returned quickly. “We should be so lucky.”

I set my glass down on the table. “What about my shift at noon?”

“I'll cover for you with Zander,” she offered, “He understands the situation, what with the longscope being Earth technology and all, and he did order you to meet with Tralfane.”

I rubbed at my chin. “That he did,” I said. She eyed me as I stayed put at the head of the table.

“Do I detect hesitancy in the brave young Quantar commander?” she asked.

“You do not, madam,” I said. Her behavior toward me seemed very ambivalent, but despite our rough start I felt she was warming up to me. I started for the door.

“Walk with me, Commander?” I asked. She did as I requested, taking her place next to me as we made our way out of officer country and down the Promenade, heading toward the ship's library and the realm of the mysterious Historian Tralfane.

“I was close to Serosian, the Historian assigned to
Starbound
,” I said.

“How close?” she asked.

“Close enough to know there are many secrets the Earthmen built into these vessels we know nothing about. It's technology we can't even comprehend. Usually the Historian and the 'scope officer work closely together, if not in tandem. I trained with Serosian for three years. I picked up on more than a few signals from him.”

“Signals?” she asked. I nodded as we walked.

“Enough to know that the technological secrets within this ship are only a beginning. There are far greater secrets our new allies are keeping from us.”

“I don't follow you,” she said. I slowed my pace before making my next statement, thinking about how far I could go. I liked Commander Kierkopf, and trusted her to be a loyal officer, to Zander at least, and to the USN, if not to me personally. I felt she was a risk worth taking.

“Has it occurred to you, Commander Kierkopf, that perhaps we here on
Impulse
and the other Lightships are in reality not in command of these missions, but are in fact just pawns for the Earthmen?”

“Pawns?” she stopped me with her hand on my arm. “What do you mean?”

“I am a bit of a student of history,” I said. “The war that caused the Great Regression, our war, Carinthia and the Corporate Empire versus Quantar and the Republics—was it in fact about republicanism versus empire, Union versus Royalist, or was it something more? The Church, perhaps, using the royal families of the realm to fight as surrogates in a much subtler conflict?”

She began walking again, more slowly, considering my words. I followed beside her.

“If such a conflict existed, and I'm not saying I believe that it did, what form would it take?” she asked.

“A war between the Holy Church and their true enemies.”

“Who are?” I could see she was growing impatient with the conversation.

“Legion,” I said. She narrowed her eyes at me, doubting now. “Have you ever heard of the Sri?” I asked.

“The Sri? A bit, I suppose. Weren't they priests of some kind in the Corporate Empire?” she asked.

I nodded. “Of a sort. They were founded many centuries ago by a group of research scientists on Old Earth, or at least that's what Serosian told me. They followed the first explorers out into space, as their kind always do. Apparently they were of some influence in the Dragon Court, especially in the latter days of the war. It seems as though they did a good job of wiping themselves from the history books after the war.”

“All very interesting, but the civil war ended a century and a half ago. What does that have to do with us, today?” she asked. I had an answer.

“The old Holy Church of Earth banned certain activities, certain sciences, during the Conclave of 2284 C.E. Recombining DNA into bonding groups, human cloning, bio-nanotechnology, and certain mentallic arts. The Sri are said to be experts in all of them, and they use their knowledge—forbidden knowledge—to advance their cause.”

She stopped again. “Which is?”

“That's harder to decipher,” I said honestly. “Legends say they have tried to establish a group mind, that they want to turn mankind into a single entity. Ruled by them, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, walking slowly again. “The funny thing about legends is that they have a way of gathering strength simply through their retelling. All very interesting, Commander, but as yet unconvincing.”

I had to agree with her. I leaned in close and spoke softly. “One more thing, Commander. Be aware that if it's a choice between our mission and the mission of the Historians, I have no doubt that they will act in their own best interests.”

She looked at me with a frown on her face, but said nothing. We were approaching the library doors and I still had one more question to ask of her.

“There is another matter I have to ask you about,” I said. She stopped now and stepped in my path, like a challenge.

“Are you sure you want to ask it?” she said. I shook my head.

“I don't want to ask it, but I need to know the answer,” I said.

“Be careful, Cochrane,” she warned. I didn't heed it.

“Did you know my brother?” I demanded. The suddenness of my confrontation surprised her. Her face flushed, I couldn't tell if it was with anger or embarrassment.

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” I said, which was true, and it made me think perhaps I should have been implying something.

She straightened her spine, as if making a decision. “I was on the
Minerva
when the accident occurred, Peter. I was a lieutenant and I was on damage control duty in Propulsion that day. When the impeller bulkhead blew I was one of the first ones down there to douse the fire. I personally pulled your brother's body out of the hold. He was one of nine we lost that day,” she said. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

I shook my head. “I didn't realize—”

“I know,” she said. “It is safe to say that I felt your brother's loss more acutely than most. Now, please, don't ask me any more questions about this. I won't answer,” she said. I nodded, accepting her explanation for the moment.

She looked down the hallway toward Tralfane's quarters, just a few feet away. “And now, I believe you have a meeting with a Historian, Mr. Cochrane. Best get to it. That's an order.”

Then she walked off without another word as I stepped up and knocked firmly on the library door.

I got no immediate response, so I waited a few more seconds and then tried the door handle, which, to my surprise, turned easily, and the door opened.

The library was fascinating. Four walls, two decks tall with a balcony, full of books in wooden shelves from floor to ceiling. There were two separate ladders for climbing to the highest level. I'd never seen so many printed books in one place in my life, not even in a museum. Chairs, research tables, and linked terminals were dispersed around the room in a comfortable manner. Our family had extensive volumes at home, but mostly for show. These days, like most navy personnel, I did most of my reading on a terminal or a plasma pad, or via a com.

Bound books, however, still retained their popularity. Nothing had ever replaced the experience of holding real paper and soft leather in your hands. Oh, you could read faster, you could read while you were asleep, or read via com download and have perfect, instant recall the next day. But no technology could replace the simple fact that human beings read for one primary reason more than any other: they enjoyed it.

I ran my fingers across the bindings of the volumes on the near wall, feeling the snap of the leather on my skin. It was pure tactile pleasure, like nothing I'd experienced since my early school days. A moment later I was scanning titles like
Aircraft Structures
by Perry,
History of the Imperium
by Wallace Shondar, and
Hoagland: The Man and His Vision
by S.D. Morton. My eyes settled on a beautiful brown leather-bound version of Melville's
Moby-Dick, or The Whale
in a case filled entirely with fiction. I'd read
Moby-Dick
in school, years ago, but this volume looked ancient. I couldn't resist and reached out to take it off the shelf. I got a jolt of static shock for my trouble.

“Ouch!” I said out loud, shaking my stinging finger at the sharp pain.

“That case is all virtual volumes,” said a voice booming out from behind me, “and they're available on the terminal in your stateroom. The originals are stored back on Earth, in several different museums.”

I turned to face the voice. The man who had entered the room was well over six feet tall, perhaps six-and-a-half. He had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair with a predominance of gray at the temples. His face was all sharp angles and craggy lines, worn by years of experiences I could only dream of, though appearance wasn't a useful factor when calculating a Historian's age. The Earthmen were well known for their anti-aging regimens. He wore the traditional garb of the Historians, a formfitting black suit with an insignia of open hands on the chest, signaling an openness to sharing knowledge. But he didn't look like the type to be trifled with, not at all.

“I'm Tralfane, ship's Historian. Lieutenant Commander Peter Cochrane, I presume?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. The “sir” might not have been appropriate, as he technically had no rank, but he was an imposing figure and the honorific just came out of me. I moved to shake his hand, but something about his demeanor stopped me after taking only a few steps.

“How much time do you have on the longscope, Cochrane?” he asked. I found myself responding instantly.

“The requisite two terms at the Academy, three hundred twenty hours of in-service training, and I've spent the odd hour on the 'scope since as an Academy Instructor on
Starbound
.”

He looked put out at my response. “That's not much, but it will have to do,” he said. He motioned for me to join him at a large wooden reading table. We stood opposite each other with the table between us. He looked at me with an expression that implied not the slightest interest in me as a person, but only in what I could do to assist him in his tasks.

“I will be installing several new displays on the longscope, starting today,” he said. “And I've informed Captain Zander of the need for the upgrades.”

“Then he's approved them?” I asked.

“Captain Zander has no knowledge of what the upgrades do or why they're needed. I told him only as a courtesy,” said Tralfane. That was certainly within his rights as
Impulse
's Historian, but I found myself doubting that my friend Serosian would have behaved in the same way. Every impression of this man reminded me that he was
not
Serosian. “The upgrades will require you to stay clear of the apparatus for several hours during your shift on the bridge. Do you think you can manage that?” he said. I found the question demeaning in its tone but responded professionally.

“If you say you need the longscope, then certainly it's yours. I won't be disturbing you, or it, in any way during my time on the bridge, if that suits you.”

He shook his head. “You don't understand. I will not be on the bridge. I will be in my sanctuary. All the work will be done remotely. I need you to not touch the equipment for security reasons. Do you understand?”

I nodded. “I do.”

“Good,” he said. “The process between us will go much smoother once we have established boundaries. I expect that you will have no problems taking orders from me?”

I hesitated. I already had enough people giving me orders that could cause conflicts. “As long as they're about the longscope or your other equipment, no problems,” I said.

“Good,” Tralfane said again, his face not changing expression in the slightest. “When you eventually log on to the longscope you will see displays that you cannot access. Ignore them. They will only be activated if I deem it necessary. Your part in that process will be to follow my instructions and carry them out precisely. Do you have any questions?”

I found myself frowning at him and his importunate manner. “Only one,” I replied. “How will you let me know when the 'scope is clear to use again?”

He brought his hands together above the table. “I will inform you. That's all you need to know,” he said. I just stared at him a moment, expecting more. When nothing was forthcoming, I asked another question.

“Are you expecting trouble when we get to Levant?” I said.

“That's two questions, Mr. Cochrane,” he said. “And you already know the answer to the second one.”

I looked at him but he remained completely impassive, like a stone monument standing across the table from me.