One's Aspect to the Sun (36 page)

His grey eyes went very serious as he studied me on the screen. “We'll be there,” he said, “although my navigator claims there's nothing of interest in that sector.”

“Well, maybe your navigator will learn something new,” I said with a wink. “
Gis la revido
, Lanar. I'll talk to you soon.”

Six hours was a long time to wait and hope that PrimeCorp didn't show up. I retreated to my cabin and watched Mother's videos again, and tried to decide what she should do. Deep in my heart, I believed she'd been right to keep PrimeCorp from using the research unscrupulously. Whether she'd signed a contract or not, they were her ideas, and I felt she had a moral right to some control over them. And PrimeCorp had certainly proved itself an unworthy caretaker of humanity's future.

But now, with the Schulyer Group to consider, the situation might have changed. If their research turned out to be sound, the control that Mother had guarded so closely was about to be taken out of her hands anyway. And if Schulyer hadn't gotten there, someone else would before long. Mother would not be able to stop it from coming. All she could do would be to try and ensure that people had fair access. But some of the things she'd said in her videos were bothering me. I wanted to talk to Lanar about them, but that wasn't going to happen for a while. And for some reason I didn't want to go to Hirin or Maja with this.

I went down to Dr. Ndasa's cabin and lightly rapped my knuckles on the door.

“Come in,” he called.

The doctor sat at the desk in his room, reading something on his datapad. He set it down when the door opened and got to his feet. As usual, his violet-coloured eyes were calm and his demeanour quiet. It struck me that this seemed to be his default state. “Captain Paixon. What can I do for you?”

I took a deep breath. “I want you to know that I don't really blame you for being . . . secretive . . . about your reasons for wanting to find my mother.”

He lowered his head like a penitent. “Thank you. I did not enjoy deceiving you—although it was only a partial deception—but I felt that the importance of the cause perhaps superseded personal feelings.”

I nodded. “I was angry, but I do get it. As long as Schulyer is not going to turn into another PrimeCorp—”

Dr. Ndasa shook his head vehemently at that.

“—then that's it,” I finished. “But I do want to ask you something.”

He gestured that I should take his vacated desk chair, and seated himself primly on the edge of the bunk, adjusting his shipsuit awkwardly. He'd left Kiando without any belongings other than his datapad and the clothes he'd worn to Chairman Buig's salon, so we'd lent him some shipsuits. He didn't seem entirely comfortable in them, although he didn't complain.

“You've spent a long time hunting for the secret to immortality, just like my mother,” I began.

The Vilisian nodded, his long ebony braid swinging slightly.

“Did you have to struggle to decide if it would be a good thing, or a bad thing, in terms of the future of our races?” I asked. “Or has the answer to that always been clear to you?

He waggled his head. “Not always clear, no. When I first became interested in the field, it was all about figuring out
if
and
how
we could do it, not necessarily
should
we do it,” he said. “There are arguments for both sides. How would we deal with near-immortality? Would it cause more problems than it would solve?”

I nodded. “I watched a video that my mother left for me. She seems to have struggled with the same questions, and never really been able to come to a decision. I think if she had, she would have released the data from her PrimeCorp research into the public or given it to other researchers long ago.”

He chuckled. “It might have saved her a lot of trouble—or made more for her. She still might have had to run from PrimeCorp, and from the law as well if they wanted to press their rights.”

I couldn't sit still any longer, and got up from the chair to pace the small room. Since all of the Vilisian's belongings had been unloaded back on Kiando, it was back to the bare bones of bunk, desk, and dresser. I felt a little pang of guilt for hustling him along with us so unceremoniously. And yet he'd come along and stayed without protest.

“What I keep coming back to,” I said, “is that I don't know if it's any one person's decision to make. I know my mother wanted the knowledge to be used responsibly, if it was used at all. She said she believed that no one should have sole control of human aging, when she was talking about PrimeCorp. But hasn't she put herself in exactly that position? She's the one hanging on to the control. So I think she may have been wrong in keeping the data secret.”

“And that is difficult for you to accept,” he said, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he studied me.

I nodded. “In the years since she left us, all that time spent looking for her, I've always assumed that when I found her—we'd agree on things. That whatever had made her leave us and stay away, was a noble cause. That I'd understand everything she did and why she did it, if she just had a chance to explain.” I leaned against the wall next to the desk. “Well, I've heard her explanation—at least an abbreviated version—and I don't really agree with her.”

“But you are still worried about her whereabouts,” he said.

“Absolutely. I'm just worried that when I find her—we're not going to get along.”

Dr. Ndasa regarded me, then seemed to come to a decision. “Captain, there is something about my race that is not well-known. We have the ability, if we choose, to change our memories. To adjust them to what we want to remember, rather than what actually happened.”

I looked at him in confusion. “Humans don't have perfect memories, either, Doctor.”

He shook his head gently. “No, this is different—a matter of control. The old memories remain, but we can keep them submerged, hidden beneath what we would rather remember. It makes life . . . easier, in many respects. We can literally change the past—or at least our experience of it. We can make it easier to bear.”

“That's—that's really fascinating,” I said. “I didn't know that. But I'm not sure I understand—”

“I mention this because I think I understand your Mother's choices. Without my people's memory-altering ability, she would be most concerned at making the wrong decision in this matter. She would feel responsible for whatever happened as a result of her actions—actions that could affect all of humanity and the other races as well. Because I would have the option to escape it, I can appreciate the enormity of that prospect.”

I considered it. “And she'd be around to see those consequences. All the consequences. Potentially for . . . forever,” I said slowly. “I guess that would be pretty daunting.”

Dr. Ndasa smiled. “I think you also sell yourself short, Captain,” he said. “I've watched how you 'get along' with everyone—even your daughter, with whom I gather you have had difficult times. I think you need not fear a relationship with your mother.”

I fetched a deep breath. “Thanks, Doctor. I hope you're right.”

And I hoped I'd get the chance to find out.

Chapter Twenty-One

The hours crept by as we waited for the
S. Cheswick
to arrive at the Sol end of the pinhole. It was far worse than hours spent travelling through space, when at least sometimes the scenery was interesting: nebulae, asteroids, wispy clouds of cosmic dust. At some point in the waiting process I went to the galley with Hirin and Maja and we had a meal together. Maja cooked up a delicious stir-fry and Hirin put fresh fruit over ice cream for dessert. We talked about our lives together and apart, and half of it I don't even remember, except that for a little while I let go of everything I was worrying about and it was kind of amazing.

So when the message ping came in from Lanar, I felt pretty good. I took the conversation in my cabin, because I wanted to talk to him about PrimeCorp and I knew we needed privacy.

“Aren't you the secretive one,” he chided me when his face came on-screen. “How long have you known about this pinhole?”

The reception was incredibly clear, considering the almost unimaginable physical distance that separated us. Lanar was in his shipboard office, and the lettering on the wall plaque behind him was almost readable. I knew what it read anyway, though;
In Astra Pax
, the motto of the Protectorate. Peace Among the Stars. He had the lights low, his face thrown half into shadow.

I shrugged. “Not long, really; Baden discovered it when we were leaving Sol System the last time. He's convinced he'll get to name it,” I added with a smile.

“And he should.” Lanar studied me. “So, why this little rendezvous? Not that I don't like talking to you,” he added.

I blew out a long breath. “Where to start? I'll give you the condensed version. I found Mother—and lost her again. I have some messages from her that I want you to see. PrimeCorp is after me because they think Mother's on board my ship. We need to find her and make things safe for her, and I might have an idea how to do that. How's that for a start?”

Lanar grinned and shook his head, then took a deep breath of his own. “Little sister, I think it's time to pool our resources. But first I really want to see those messages from Mother. Can you narrowbeam them to me through the pinhole?”

I wondered what he meant by “pool our resources,” but that was sort of what I was hoping for, anyway, so I didn't press him on it. I commed Baden and asked him to send the datapacket of the messages, which I'd already downloaded from the chip and prepared. A few moments later, Lanar and I were watching them together.

Even all together, they weren't terribly long. At the end, Lanar was solemn. “You sure look like her. Sound like her, too.” He ran a hand over his face. “It's a lot to take in.”

I nodded. “But Lanar, here's what you don't know. Dr. Ndasa, who skipped out to Kiando with us, works with Schulyer Group. They think they've come up with something just as good as Mother's nanobioscavs, and they want her to vet their research.”

He pursed his lips. “So if that pans out, she won't have to worry any more about PrimeCorp having a monopoly? She could just give them back their data and step away from the whole thing.”

“I don't think she'll see it as being that easy. She's held onto this data for a long time, and she feels responsible. Even if she gives it to PrimeCorp, she's going to worry about what they'll do with it—and how they might still come after her, legally, maybe. And after all the things they've done—not legal things, I might add—I don't want them to have the data, either. They can't be trusted. I think it's time for PrimeCorp to take a fall. A big one.”

Lanar leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “What if I told you that we can't afford to have PrimeCorp take too big a fall? The timing isn't right.”

“We? Who's we? Who wouldn't be better off with them out of the picture?”

“A lot of people, sadly. Think about it. PrimeCorp is Vigor-Us, it's techrigs, it's skip drive technology.” He held up a hand. “I know, there are others in the same fields. But not nearly as influential or with the same kind of reach. It's also the government on five Nearspace planets. More than half of the people in Nearspace
depend
on PrimeCorp for one thing or another, and if we pulled the rug out from under them, it would hurt. Hurt industry, hurt medicine, hurt people all over Nearspace. To make matters worse, too much of the system is built on interdependent political connections, and who owes whom. A breakdown of that web might open the door for someone even worse to step into the gap while things were in confusion.”

I stared at him. “So we just let PrimeCorp get away with whatever they want? Is that Protectorate policy? That's not right, either.”

Lanar shook his head. “No, it's not. And it's not that we're doing nothing about it. In fact, I'm supposed to give you this.” He touched the screen and a datapacket showed up on mine. “We've set up a hearing on Vele, before the Nearspace Worlds Administrative Council, to present evidence about PrimeCorp's illegal tech operation—the one Viss helped us with. Your datapacket is a summons to appear to give evidence—you and the crew. It's not going to bring down PrimeCorp, by any means, but it's not meant to, either. Just push back a little. Cut out one of the tumours.”

I steepled my fingers and tapped them against my lips while I thought, realizing after a second that I'd picked up the habit from Hirin. “Okay. I had thought about bringing my own complaint against PrimeCorp. I've got a fair bit of evidence accumulated, which I was going to take to Chairman Buig on Kiando. Rei already suggested that I
could
bring the complaint—and then be 'persuaded' to drop the charges if they'd come to some agreement with Mother. This could work to our advantage. If they're already in trouble because of the illegal tech, they might not want any other complications right now.” I chewed my lip. “It doesn't completely solve the PrimeCorp problem, but it would get them off our backs.”

“Blackmail them into leaving Mother alone?” he said with a grin. “You sound just like her.”