Morgan's Choice (7 page)

“You have devices in your head and so have
they. You have artificial eyes and so have they. And you have the
ability to understand computer systems that are alien to you. Jones
says you can run a spaceship with your mind.” He placed the fingers
of both hands on his forehead for a moment.

“I have just returned from a planet called
Dilmar where these aliens destroyed the entire population and set
the settlements on fire. We were fortunate that one man survived to
tell the tale.”

“A whole planet?”

“A pioneer world. Fifty thousand people, in
three cities.”

She looked over his shoulder at the bulkhead
behind him, plain, featureless. Fifty thousand people. “Just
ordinary people? Not a military outpost?”

“Ordinary people of all classes, trying to
build a future for themselves. I can show you the evidence.”

She snorted. “Evidence. Evidence is like
statistics.”

“You don’t trust me?”

She smiled at the floor at her feet. He had
to be joking, didn’t he?

She realized he’d moved when she saw his
boots, polished to a mirror shine.

“You want honesty you can understand?” He
lifted her chin with his fingers and locked his gaze with hers. “I
do my job as honestly as I can. And that is to allow ordinary
people to live their lives in peace.”

Not a blink, not a waver. But what did he
want? More Supertech ‘magic’? “What can I do?”

“We have one ship, one of their fighters. We
have the pilot, too. Dead, unfortunately. One of our patrol ships
found the vessel, apparently abandoned in a planetary orbit. You
will tell me what you know, what you think you may be able to
discover. Perhaps penetrate the ship’s computer systems.”

He hadn’t let go, still held her chin in
strong fingers. His skin felt smooth but tough. She’d never been so
close to a manesan. She could smell him, clean but spicy, a little
like their food.

“
Well,
Suri
?”

“Their systems are different?”

“We have no way of knowing.”

Intriguing. Absolutely intriguing. She felt
that familiar surge of adrenalin that signified a challenge. But
for him? This bastard?

“If I say no?” She treated him to a brief
laser stare which would have had a human ducking for cover.

Completely unaffected, he let go of her
and sat down again. “You would help the
Bunyada
but not me? They are terrorists, killing and
destroying to sow unrest. They claim to be anti-Mirka but it is
usually everyone else who suffers. Shuba, Hasta and the poorer
Vesha. Not the Vesha princes, not the rich merchants like Sayvu’s
father. I can show you this, too.”

“Show me what you have and I’ll decide.”
Bravado. He’d know. He hadn’t threatened her, no ‘do this or you
die’. Then again, why state the obvious?

“In the meantime, can you take these things
off?” She jutted an elbow in an attempt to show him her shackled
wrists.

He pressed a button on the communicator at
his belt. Almost immediately the cell door opened and an underling
appeared, nearly falling over himself to bow. “Remove the bands,”
Ravindra said.

Morgan felt the shackles fall away and
flexed her shoulders. Ah, that felt good. Better than her cheek.
She lifted her fingers to her face.
I’ll bet I’m bruised
.

“Come.”

Chapter
Eight

Morgan trailed in Ravindra’s wake, a couple
of troopers behind her. The guard at the exit from the prison block
nearly bent over double in obeisance. If she’d thought the admirals
in the Coalition Fleet were self-important, they had nothing on
this man. Who needs gods when you have an admiral?

Ravindra led the way to a guarded door not
far from the detention block and inside the isolation unit. The
troopers acknowledged the admiral and unlocked, casting furtive
glances at her as they did so. Inside yet another closed room an
officer greeted Ravindra.

“Senior Commander Hanestran is commander of
the computer maintenance group,” Ravindra said. “This is Morgan
Selwood.”

Hanestran looked her up and down. His
expression reflected restrained curiosity of the ‘let’s see what
you can do’ kind. “
Suri
,” he said,
returning her bow with a briefer one of his own. His eyes lingered
for a moment on her cheek.

The admiral shifted, recalling her
attention. “You will work with Hanestran to find out what you can
about the alien craft and to tell him about your own
ship.”

“I would be delighted.”

He treated her to a brief stare. She’d
have to be careful with the sarcasm. “Hanestran will show you
the
Yogin
ship. You
will need to wear an isolation suit.” He waved a hand at a row of
orange suits hung on pegs.

Suited up, Ravindra, Morgan and Hanestran
passed into the airlock that sealed off the isolation unit from the
rest of the ship. They waited for a few moments while the air was
exchanged, then the internal door unsealed and slid open. The place
was tall and wide as a maintenance hangar and just as
well-equipped. Workbenches lined the walls. Tools and gadgets hung
neatly on racks or stood in their assigned bays on the floor. The
room sparkled with cleanliness, in sharp contrast to the two ships
on its pristine floor.

Curlew
crouched like a battered, bloated insect,
incongruous in this environment. Beside the freighter another ship
lay on an angle, one wingtip resting on the deck, a streamlined,
arrowhead shape, the short wings meant for atmospheric flight. Here
on the hangar floor the ship looked very small, even smaller than
when she’d seen its like in space.

While Ravindra stood to one side, watching
her, she walked around the fighter, featureless except for a bulge
in the top center, closer to the front than the back. The grey
finish was smooth and unblemished, except for a line like a seam
round the edge of the bulge. No muzzles, no vents, nothing to
reveal a propulsion system. She concentrated. No sense of a
computer system. Fascinating.

“You wish to see inside?” Hanestran’s voice
broke into her concentration.

“Yes.”

He walked up the wing and flipped the bulge
open, revealing a windowless canopy, hinged at the back. “We forced
it open. It’s the only place we could find a join.”

Kneeling on the wing, she peered inside.
Apart from a seat and a harness, the cockpit held nothing she
recognized. A lens in the middle might have been a data port. She
polled. Nothing.

“Nothing I’ve seen before.” She jumped off
the wing back onto the deck.

“So you cannot help?” Hanestran almost seemed
disappointed.

She grinned at him. “I didn’t say that. It’s
a challenge. It will take time.”

“Let me show you the body.” He led her over
to a tall, rectangular cabinet next to the workbenches. “We have
our own small morgue here.”

He pressed a button and a drawer slid out.
Mist formed and trailed down onto the floor. The alien lay on its
back, its eyes open. Bald, ugly, vestigial nose and ears, no sexual
organs. But undoubtedly humanoid. Five fingers, five toes, two
arms, two legs. One head. Eyes like hers? Morgan looked. Yes, she
could understand why Ravindra would say that. Dull and lifeless
now, but when the
Yogin
lived
those eyes might have gleamed like hers.

“It has something in its head?” she said.

“
It had. We carried out an autopsy. The
object we found has been removed.” He pulled open a drawer, took
out a box and opened the lid. A black ball lay in the
center.

“May I touch it?”

He nodded. She lifted the ball with gloved
fingers. Hard, not like the flexible implants melded into her
brain. The surface absorbed light.

She handed the ball back. While Hanestran
replaced it and returned to close up the alien’s drawer, she
wandered back to the fighter, still standing with its cockpit
open.

She stretched out with her sensors. A touch,
the slightest tingle in her implant. Coming from the alien
machine.

She stiffened, instantly alert. She’d have to
get into the computer system somehow. She’d bet a year’s pay that
thing was still functioning. Set to poll at some strange interval,
maybe?

Ravindra crossed the distance between them in
two strides. “What happened?”

“What?”

“You reacted to something. Just then.
What?”

“Nothing I recognized. But something. A
pulse… something. The ship would certainly be functional. It will
take time, but I’ll do my best.”

He almost smiled behind the helmet’s
visor. “Excellent. But make no mistake,
Suri
. You have no doubt noticed that the sensors in
this chamber have been turned off. So. I trust you only so far.” He
held his forefinger and thumb a hairsbreadth apart. I want your
help but if it is not forthcoming, if you try to delay, if you do
anything I find dubious…”

He placed his fingertips on her forehead.
“Perhaps we will have to remove these things you have in your skull
and see what we can find. Do I make myself clear?”

Chapter
Nine

Morgan stared up into slit pupils as
indifferent and implacable as a black hole. “Perfectly clear.”

He took his hand away from her forehead and
flicked her cheek hard enough to jerk her head. “Mind your
manners.”

She bowed her neck. Bastard. Arrogant
bastard. “Admiral.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, Morgan
trailing after him, back to the change room where they shed the
orange suits.

“In future you will work here with SenComm
Hanestran. For the moment, you will come with me.”

She followed him into a transit car and cast
a surreptitious glance at the man beside her. He certainly had a
presence. He exuded maleness; tall, wide-shouldered with a nice
butt and the arrogance of a despot. She’d bet he’d be popular with
the women at the planetary stops. There’d be fighting in the queue.
She’d seen that sort of thing often enough, too.

The car stopped at level six. Same as the
bridge, a few conference rooms, accommodation for a few of the very
senior staff. She’d mapped it all out days ago. Guards snapped to
attention when Ravindra left the transit. No-one got past the foyer
without approval or an appointment, it seemed.

He strode down a corridor. The first door on
the left had his name on it, but he walked past. Morgan glanced at
the plaque; his office. He opened the next door with a press of his
palm on the wall panel and entered. She followed him. The guards
did not.

She could have been in a top-class hotel.
Wood-paneled walls, dark blue carpet. Two soft couches faced each
other. Four matching backless poufs were grouped around a low
table. An HV unit, capable of displaying holograms or flats, stood
in a corner. A row of paintings hung on the walls and two
beautifully detailed model space craft had pride of place on a wide
cabinet.

“Sit.” Ravindra indicated one of the couches
and sat on the other, back straight, legs crossed. A steward
appeared from a doorway Morgan hadn’t noticed.

He bowed to what must have been forty-five
degrees. “
Srimana
?”

“
Charb
, Tullamarran.”

The man bowed and withdrew.

“These are my private quarters,” he said.
“You will be installed into the quarters opposite. It is a state
room reserved for important visitors. I expect it will be more
comfortable than a detention cell.”

“
Can I have my own clothes back? The ones
on the ship I arrived on?”
Manners, Morgan
. “Please,
Srimana
?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

The manservant returned bearing an
intricately carved pot and two mugs on a tray. The sharp aroma
of
charb
filled the
room as he poured.

Morgan picked up her mug and turned it in
her hands. Nice. Fine, almost fragile-looking white material with
the Fleet galaxy symbol on the side in gold.
Charb
. Horrible, bitter stuff. It seemed to be the
equivalent of home’s barist. Only nowhere near as nice. She’d try
not to gag.

She sipped. Complex flavors assailed her
taste buds. A hint of bitterness persisted but this was something
she could drink.

“It’s not bad.”

“
This was freshly brewed. Now, tell me what
you are.”

She stared into the mug. But then again, why
not? Fessing up had been plan B, after all. She couldn’t possibly
put the Coalition into danger and she’d had quite enough of a
detention block.

“I’m a Supertech.” She said the word in
Standard. “A special sort of technician. My eyes are artificial.
They function like ordinary eyes but they’re also like sensors so I
can connect to computer systems. I ran the computer systems on the
ship we arrived in, flew the ship, navigated, did any engineering.”
She smiled. “Not very well, as it happens.”

“And now tell me something I don’t already
know.”

“Huh. You shouldn’t believe everything Jones
tells you.”

“I don’t. And that is one of the reasons why
I insisted that you actually demonstrate the ability to pilot one
of our ships. At least for a short time. Astonishing control, by
the way. Most impressive. I had no idea our utility shuttles could
perform so precisely. These things in your head… what do they allow
you to do and how can you interact with our systems, which are very
different to yours?”