Vigilante (17 page)

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Authors: Laura E. Reeve

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BOOK: Vigilante
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“My specialty, more specifically, covers prefertilization genetic
diagnosis and embryonic maturation.” Lee stopped to stand in front of Abram, a low console
between them.
“Yes, you maintain the ‘crèches.’ ” Emery moved to stand protectively
beside Abram, as if the frail woman were a threat.
“I prefer the term ‘artificial womb,’” Lee said carefully.
Tahir watched the central tableau of three people with trepidation.
Abram didn’t consider women useful for anything but reproduction, and Emery followed him in his
disdain for “breeders.” Dr. Lee was too old to carry a child, and if she proved to have too
much backbone and resisted Abram’s plans, she might go the way of Captain Zabat and Commander
Charlene.
Abram didn’t look offended—yet. He cocked his head and asked, “What do
you know, Dr. Lee Pilgrimage, about the Minoan attack at Enclave El Tozeur on New
Sousse?”
The woman nodded with a resigned expression, as if she both expected and
dreaded this topic. “I was finishing my term at headquarters, so that was some time around
’seventy-five. Someone managed to sabotage a Minoan ship so badly that it was destroyed, and
Qesan Douchet foolishly—”
“You’re speaking of my uncle, woman!” Emery leaned forward, but stopped
when Abram put up a restraining hand.
“I’m sorry for your loss, young man.” Lee’s voice was considerate, but
underlying her sounds of sympathy was the cold hardness of marble. “Regardless of who performed
the sabotage, your uncle was imprudent to claim credit in such a public display. Take heart
that your people now stand as an example for everyone: The Minoans play for keeps.”
Lee shook her head and added, “Their genetically targeted bioweapons
were—and still are—beyond our science or engineering. I remember looking at the initial reports
in disbelief. How could their bioweapons work so specifically, and how could they make
alterations in place, affecting current DNA organization? When Pilgrimage headquarters sent aid
to the survivors—”
“That’s a lie!” Emery raised his voice. “No one helped us, old woman. No
one cared!”
“I beg your pardon,” she snapped, her eyes glinting, “but I
personally
signed the transfer and ensured it was delivered to the Acting Elder
at Enclave El Tozeur! Pilgrimage took pride in matching the Voyage relief donation of
fifty thousand
Hellas Kilodrachmas, and back then, young man, that
was a substantial amount of money.”
It certainly was. Tahir stood up straight from the shock, feeling a bit
woozy. He saw Emery was laboring under the same feelings, working his mouth and probably
wanting to call Lee Pilgrimage a liar.
But she has no reason to
lie
.
The tribal elders told Tahir and Emery, all their lives, the outside
world never noticed their plight. Once Tahir was off New Sousse, he realized that the rest of
the Terran Expansion League considered Qesan Douchet a ridiculous, if slightly tragic, figure.
The Enclave and tribe seemed mysteriously forgotten, and the Minoan attack was rarely a subject
for casual discussion among Terrans. When Tahir made his infrequent trips back home, the
tribe’s poverty was heart-breaking and he was shamed by Abram’s chid ings to do better in his
studies. After all, the tribe was suffering to pay for his schooling.
Abram surely knew about the donations. If only two ship lines had
donated one hundred thousand HKD to survivors of the attack, then how much more relief money
must have come in? Where had it gone? The elders had certainly never used it to make anyone’s
life easier, to take the tribe members from scrabbling in the dirt to clean houses and
workplaces.
We could have built hospitals, started industries. . .
.
Emery was also staring at Abram with surprise and puzzlement, but Abram
sat unmoved, focusing on Lee.
“We didn’t need money.” Abram’s voice was flat. “We needed allies with
weapons, with the strength and fortitude to help us retaliate and regain our pride.”
Emery nodded slowly, but Tahir noted his hesitancy. Dr. Lee, however,
was looking at Abram as if he were speaking a foreign language.
“If our money bought us this, then I am convinced that good deeds are
punished.” Lee gestured, with bewilderment, toward the bloodstains. “But St. Darius compels us
to give help to the wayfarer in need and you might have gotten our help by asking. Did you
think of that? You do need our help, don’t you?”
Abram cocked his head again and Tahir wondered if Lee had pushed him too
far.
“I think a test is in order,
Doctor
,” Abram
said. “Tahir, come stand beside me, on the other side from Emery.”
Tahir’s heart sank as he moved to stand beside the chair. In his
experience, Abram’s tests often involved somebody dying. So far, Tahir had avoided taking any
lives and he didn’t think he could kill Dr. Lee.
“These two young men are both related to me.” Abram gestured to Tahir
and Emery. “One is my nephew, who was present during the attack. The other is my son, who was
in the womb during the attack. Which young man carries my genes,
Doctor
?”
Tahir’s chest tightened. The three of them looked alike, regardless of
what their genes indicated. It was a trick question and he dreaded whatever the penalty would
be for him, Emery, or Dr. Lee, if she answered incorrectly.
Dr. Lee folded her arms and stared down her nose at Tahir, then Emery.
“Perhaps you’re not aware of this, Mr. New Commander, but little of the human genome is
responsible for appearance. The color of our hair, eyes, and skin makes us different by a
negligent blip in the sequences.”
“You may take DNA samples, if you wish,” Abram said, to Tahir’s
surprise.
“I don’t need samples,” Dr. Lee said with confidence. She pointed at
Tahir. “
That
is your son, but his DNA cannot prove it.”
Tahir looked at Abram and Emery, whose face was darkening. Emery had
probably taken the “son of Abram’s spirit” talk a little too seriously. Tahir anxiously tried
to read Abram’s response. Did Dr. Lee provide the answer he wanted?
“Congratulations, Dr. Lee. You understand the effects of the Minoan
weapons. You must also know why I require your full cooperation and best efforts of your
staff.” Abram’s colorless voice made Tahir flinch. The more emotionless Abram’s voice, the more
dangerous he became.

Now
you prefer allies with medical
technology above those with weapons.” Lee’s voice, unwisely, held sharp sarcasm.
“I have all the weapons I need,” Abram said indifferently. “Now I must
have sons—and your children will be forfeit if you can’t find a way to give me mine.”
Lee’s face went slack. She knew Abram was threatening the crèches and
that was her key. Abram said everyone had a key, by which he or she could be unlocked.
Manipulated. Threatened. Lee bit her lower lip.
“It might not be possible to reverse the effects of the Minoan weapons,”
she said.
“I’m surprised that you, as a renowned scientist and doctor, would jump
to conclusions. Tell me what you need to give me sons.”
There was a pause as she looked at Abram’s face for a moment. She looked
away and crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders hunching.
“First, we’ll need samples from you and all your peop—your men.” She’d
noticed the consistent gender of Abram’s followers.
“I’ll send in everyone who’s closely related to me. You can go now,
Doctor.”
She turned to go, and stopped. “Do you like music, Mr. Rouxe?”
“No. It’s distracting,” Abram said.
“Pity. However, it’s—it’s necessary for me and my laboratory.” At
Abram’s quizzical look, she added, “I’d like access to my music library.”
“That can be arranged, in exchange for information. I’d like to know who
was in the module that separated from the ship, the one above your laboratory.”
Lee’s face was blank as she said, “David Ray, the ship’s general
counsel, and a visiting prospector. I can’t remember his name, but he should be on the ship’s
visitor register.”
“Will you need any equipment that was in that module?” Abram watched her
face carefully.
Tahir tensed up.
Don’t lie—he always knows the
answers before he asks
.
“No.” Lee cleared her throat. “There’s no critical equipment in that
module.”
Abram seemed satisfied by her answer and told Tahir to release her music
library, after examining it to ensure that it only held music, of course. He ordered Tahir to
escort Dr. Lee off the control deck.
Tahir walked behind Lee to the vertical airlock, grateful that she
hadn’t done anything that would have given Abram or Emery a reason to kill her. She seemed
cowed, so he was surprised when she quickly turned to him behind the edge of the airlock, where
Abram couldn’t see her.
“Tahir, your genes don’t determine your fate,” she whispered.
Then she went down the ladder and out of his sight. Tahir jerked around
to see if Abram had noticed the pause, but Abram was deep in decisions and conversations. By
the time Tahir walked back, he’d learned the unfortunate escape of Module 2098 was irrelevant
and Abram didn’t want to waste any resources on retrieving it. Abram was leaving Rand in charge
of the team on the
Pilgrimage
, with orders to continue with the
original plan. This left Rand with plenty to do, including moving the
Pilgrimage
.
Tahir could see this didn’t sit well with Emery, who had vocally hoped
to command the team on the
Pilgrimage
. Emery probably thought this
was punishment for destroying the shrine to St. Darius. Abram, however, was being logical. Rand
was a better negotiator than Emery, and they needed cooperation from the crèche-get.
“You’ll go with me to Beta Priamos to prepare a ship for Tahir’s gift,”
Abram was saying to Emery. “By the time we get there, everything on Priamos should be under
control.”
 
Under quickly diminishing gee, Matt dosed David Ray with pain meds and
antibiotics. After the poor man was under, he tried his best to treat the mangled leg with what
was available in the emergency first aid kit. A few flechettes remained deep inside the leg
muscle and Matt didn’t know how to remove them.
Then he had to assess their situation. The emergency training drilled
into every generational crew member had several steps, the first being “Inventory and identify
your resources.”
Inventory what?
He looked about a module designed
for one purpose: helping men donate sperm samples. There were three privacy booths against one
side. The furnishings and fittings looked like any quiet men’s club that Matt had encountered,
with the exception of the monochromatic decorating that the generational favored. Everything
was in shades of burgundy.
Too bad I can’t hurl hard porn as a weapon, and
it’s a shame
—contrary to how Nestor lived—
that one can’t survive on
porn alone
. If so, he and David Ray would be set up for months.
“Wha’s happening? They comin’ after us?” David Ray woke up a few hours
later, still webbed to the floor and under the influence of every drug Matt thought might be
useful.
“No, it’s worse. They’re going to let us die.” Matt helped David Ray sit
upright and lean his back against the bar.
“Tha’s alright w’ me.” He gave Matt a lopsided grin.
“Maybe we ought to ease up on your medication.”
“Wha?” David Ray began to examine his leg, wincing as his fingers poked
the plastiskin.
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t get all those things out of your leg. We
don’t have a med-scanner.”
“Might be poisoned,” David Ray said.
“Poisoned?”
Matt looked up from the bar
inventory. “They’ve broken both Autonomist and Terran law by using flechette weapons on a space
habitat. For all I know, they’ve violated the Phaistos Protocols as well. Would they go even
further, with poisoned rounds, and take a chance at pissing off the Minoans?”
“You think these people are afraid of the Minoans?” David Ray’s smile
was grim. “Did you recognize the name ‘Qesan Douchet’?”
“Vaguely. Learned something about him in the orphanage.” Matt was busy
going through inventories and checking the location of items. “Ran an isolationist cult on New
Sousse, right? He managed to blow up a Minoan ship, somehow, so they killed him and slapped the
cult around. I think that was before my time.”
“It was about thirty UT years ago, while you were on the
Journey IV
. Qesan’s tribe was brutally misogynistic; women were ‘put down’ if
they couldn’t produce sons—although they apparently did it humanely.”
This shocked Matt out of his inventory. Having spent his childhood and
early teen years on a generational ship, then living as a generational orphan on an Autonomist
world, he had a hard time imagining such a society. David Ray had to be exaggerating. “New
Sousse was TerranXL. Couldn’t anyone stop that? Couldn’t the women escape?”

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