Kelric squinted at the palmtop. How can I look like a machine? Any routine scan will reveal I’m human.
Not if I turn off your brain.
Say again?
In a sense, your brain is “mechanical” already. Bioelectrodes and buffers in your neurons control their firing, which lets you. “think” to me. If you give me control of those functions, I’ll make your firing patterns resemble the processes of an El. Your body is also full of biomech. You’re already operating under hydraulic control. It shouldn’t be hard for me to convince long-distance sensors you’re a machine.
Kelric shifted uneasily. What’s the catch?
Bolt hesitated. I may not be able to return you to normal, particularly given the brain damage you’ve already sustained.
If I’m broken when I reach the Lock, I can’t do anything.
I really don’t know if it would hurt you or not. Bolt paused. Or you could go find Shuttle Four and try to go home.
As much as he wanted to do just that, he couldn’t. I have to see this through. Otherwise, what will I go home to? The Traders will conquer us and capture my whole family.
Shall I proceed, then?
Yes.
I need your access codes for the Lock.
Puzzled, Kelric thought, You have them in your secured files.
I’ve been unable to access those files for years. Do you remember the codes?
I’m not sure. It’s been a long time.
What shall I do?
What? If he gave Bolt the wrong codes, it might alert security when Bolt fumbled with the Lock’s web. Even if they didn’t set off an alarm, they still wouldn’t have covert access to the station. They would have to use a normal docking bay. Bolt might convince long-distance sensors that Kelric was machinery, but the deception would collapse if a human crew or smart robots came to unload him.
He massaged his temples, trying to ease his headache. I’ll give you the codes as best I remember. But if this doesn’t work and I’m caught, I want you to do something.
Yes?
Kelric knew if ESComm caught him trying to break into the Lock, their interrogation would be swift. They would probably discover his identity before Tarquine could reclaim him. Collapse the fuel bottles for this ship’s antimatter. Blow it up with me in it.
Sorrow shaded Bolt’s glyphs. Are you sure?
Yes.
I hope it doesn’t come to that.
Kelric exhaled. I also. Then he gave Bolt his best guess for the codes.
The universe turned gray and ended.
20
Ruby Legacy
If Not Think, then Think.
Insert Conscious.
“What?” Kelric asked. Insert Conscious? What kind of wacko command was that? And why was he thinking it in his own head?
Dim blue light came from a bar above him. He was standing in a locker with several robots. They had a skeletal framework suited to maintenance work, rather than humanoid form. He still held Raziquon’s palmtop in his hand.
Bolt? he thought. Are you there?
Yes, it printed on the palmtop. How are you?
All right. He rubbed his eyes. Why didn’t you wake me up when we docked? Who put me in here? Humans or smart robots would have noticed the “slight” discrepancy in the shuttle’s cargo compared to its listed inventory.
I had trouble restoring your neural functions, Bolt printed. So I had the maintenance robots unload you. I told them you were a new model.
He almost laughed. And they believed you? Everyone knows the human body is a lousy design for a maintenance robot.
They don’t know that. They just clean things.
Oh. Well, good. When it came to robots, apparently Bolt knew more than Kelric about their intelligence level. Or lack thereof.
I have a question, Bolt said.
Yes?
Why did ISC hide a docking bay here?
A precaution, in case the Rhon ever needed covert access. Like now. He rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks. Are you inside the station web?
Yes. I’ve discovered ESComm knows about this bay.
It didn’t surprise Kelric. ESComm was nothing if not efficient. Have they made it work?
No. It is protected by a psiberlock only the Rhon can open.
Kelric grinned. I know.
They have no idea the psiberlock exists. They’ve listed the docking bay as “out of order” and slated it for removal.
Without psions, they’ve no good way to recognize a psiberlock. He stretched his arms. This sector used to have an access tube for the robots that cleaned the Lock. Is it still here?
Yes, according to the web. I’m only able to access the web’s outer layers, though.
That should be enough. He laid his palms against the locker’s door. Can I go outside?
Yes. It should be safe.
He touched a circle on the wall. The locker slid open with a quiet hum, revealing a storage room filled with sleeping machines, everything from foot-sized dust sweepers to the lumbering droids that worked the outer hull. For microscopic repairs, nanobots doped the hull. Canisters of the gel that produced the bots lined the walls.
Kelric stepped out of the locker—and fell.
He grabbed a canister by the doorway, one as high as his chest. His legs tingled. When he regained his balance, he tried another step. He nearly fell again, but this time he managed to stay up without grabbing anything. He tried two more steps. He could walk, but with a limp so severe he dragged his foot.
Bolt? he asked. What’s wrong?
I’m not sure. I am having trouble with your hydraulics.
Why? Turning off my conscious mind shouldn’t affect them.
I needed your brain to open the psiberlock on the docking bay.
What does that have to do with my hydraulics?
To “turn off” your brain, I ran your neural processes as a subshell on my system, Bolt explained. I had the subshell mimic my own activity. So you looked like an El. I was afraid using your mind to open the psiberlock would give you away. So I disguised your subshell mind with a second subshell that I ran in the foreground while your actual mind ran in the background. The foreground subshell distracted the web so I could link your real subshell mind to the psiberlock.
Kelric blinked. You did all that with my brain?
Well, you see, that’s the problem. I didn’t have enough memory to hold all those subshells and keep your hydraulics working. So I let the hydraulics go. Bolt paused. I’m sorry. The subshells overwrote some of my software. I’m having trouble linking to your hydraulics.
It felt odd to have his computer apologize. I understand. Hanging on to a jointed arm on a droid, he took another dragging step. His legs felt like lead. Can you get back the links?
I will do my best.
Bolt’s glyph nuances hinted at a doubt that Kelric suspected his node hadn’t intended to reveal. So strange. Bolt had become more human while he became more machine. Where did they draw the line that defined humanity? Their self-evolution blurred it, maybe beyond recognition. He didn’t feel like a machine, though. He felt like a clumsy man. No matter. Considering the stakes, clumsiness was a small price to pay for his continued freedom.
Do you know anything about the layout here? he asked. I don’t remember where to find the access tube to the Lock.
I’ve a map. Bolt’s nuances indicated it was pleased to give him some good news. Go to the end of this aisle. Turn right and take ten more steps. That will bring you to the hatch for the tube.
Kelric peered down the dimly lit aisle of droids. They stood over twice his height, robot hulks slumbering in the shadows. Twenty steps to the end of this aisle and ten more to the hatch. Thirty paces. Grasping a retracted claw on a droid, he took a step, dragging his foot with him.
Another step. Stumble. Step again.
Slowly he made his way down the aisle, using droids for support. It didn’t help that the station gravity was at 120 percent. Finally he reached the end of the
row. Two steps in front of him, a blank wall stretched both right and left. Looking to the right, he saw a hatch in the wall about ten paces away, past two more aisles of equipment. Only ten paces.
It looked like a million.
He took a breath. Then he stepped toward the hatch—and lost his balance. When he grabbed for a droid, his fingers scraped across its convoluted surface. He hit the deck with a great, thudding impact. The droids around him shook as the floor vibrated.
Kelric lay on his stomach, too stunned to move. Then he rolled onto his side and lifted his hand—to see the battered remains of the palmtop. His body had slammed it into the deck when he hit.
Bolt? he asked. No answer appeared on the ripped screen.
“No,” he said. He needed Bolt. The responsibility to see this through pressed on him like a great weight. He had an obligation to his family, his people, the Allieds, the Trader slaves; to Ixpar and his children; to all the providers he had failed to help; to all the people who would lose their freedom if the Aristos carried out their dreams of conquest. Could one person be responsible for them all? Without Bolt, he had even less chance of success. He lay on the floor, demoralized, trying to gather his strength.
“Let’s go,” he muttered. Grabbing a droid, he climbed back up to his feet. He hung the remains of the palmtop on his belt, giving himself two free hands. Then he limped forward, dragging his foot, using the droids for support.
Ten more steps to the access tube. Only ten. He tried not to think of how far he had to go inside the tube. Cleaning droids trundled that way all the time. He could have ridden one if it had been available. But he didn’t dare start machinery here. Who knew what alarms he might trigger? His fall hadn’t set off any as far as he knew, but he wasn’t sure. He could take no more chances.
So he struggled, one step at a time. Nine. Eight. Seven.
Although he didn’t have much sensation in his legs, the rest of his body felt the strain of pulling them along. His hips ached.
Five. Four. Three steps. Two.
One.
With a relieved grunt, he sagged against the hatch. When he had caught his breath, he peered at the control panel. This one he knew. Skolian. It followed a different standard than Eubian systems. He entered the codes easily and the hatch slid open.
Bracing his arms against the sides of the hatchway, he stared down the circular tube that stretched into the distance. Only a dim blue glow lit the walls. Smooth walls. No hand grips. Robots didn’t need them, after all.
He limped into the tube and closed the hatch. As he turned around, his legs buckled. This time he was ready for the fall and caught himself on his hands as he hit the ground. He paused, taking a breath. Then he tried to climb to his feet. The glassy walls offered no help. His hands just slid along them. He finally managed using the sheer breadth of his arm span; by stretching out his arms, he could brace his hands against either side of the tunnel. He kept his palms from slipping by pushing outward while he hauled himself to his feet.
He stood in the tunnel, staring down its blue extent. Like Earth’s mythical Atlas holding up the world, he kept his hands braced against the walls, as if he were holding open the Lock itself.
Then he took a step.
Another step. Rest.
Step again. Rest.
Gradually he became aware of an odd effect. His mind felt heavy. It wasn’t like what happened with Aristos. This was … right. Something within him was responding to a call he felt more than heard.
Far ahead, the tube narrowed to a point. He stopped, trying to focus. The tunnel went on, straight and true, forever, until the effects of perspective narrowed it into a bright white dot. That made no sense. A moment ago it had simply been a tunnel, too dim to see more than a few meters ahead.
He started forward again, moving his hands along the wall. A vibration passed into his body, humming through him.
Come. It called not in words, but with a sense of meaning below language.
Come to me.
He went another half meter. Another. Step by step …
Suddenly the point of light wasn’t far away. It glowed only a few meters in front of him, a circular entrance. No, not a circle. An octagon. That shape had been ubiquitous in the architecture of the Ruby ancients and lay buried in the psyches of humanity now, all of them, Trader and Skolian alike, an echo of the ancient sciences they had lost five millennia ago, before their separate empires existed, when they were all one people.
He took another step, dragging his bad leg. The light blazed around him. One more step and he had reached the entrance. Grabbing its sides, he looked into a small octagonal chamber.
Inside, the Third Lock waited for him.
White radiance glowed everywhere, so luminous he couldn’t make out details of the chamber. The air hummed with a vibration he felt rather than heard. As he stepped across the threshold, time slowed.
Now he saw it. A great column of light rose out of an octagonal hole in the center of the floor and vanished overhead in a haze of blurred reality.
The Lock.
A discontinuity in spacetime.
A Kyle singularity.
It offered a portal into another reality. The pillar came out of a universe where space and time had no meaning. Only within this chamber did it exist in his universe. Overhead it pierced the fabric of spacetime and vanished into some other reality.
Created over five thousand years ago, the Lock had survived the millennia, alone and adrift. When humans finally returned to space, they rediscovered the Locks, remnants of an empire that had fallen into ruin and myth. Modern science had yet to decipher the secrets held by these ancient Ruby machines. His people barely knew how to use them. But what little they had learned to create, the Triad and psiberweb, had altered the balance of power among three empires.
Kelric walked in slow motion, his movements torpid in the anomalous spacetime. He sunk to his knees at the edge of the radiant pillar. His mind responded to its unspoken call with an answering pull. The Lock rumbled in silent power, in his body, his mind, his essence.
I am your Key, he thought.
It gave him welcome. It had waited a long time for him.
Eons.
Kelric rose to his feet and limped to a console by the wall. He lowered himself onto its stool. The console had no jacks or IR ports. He needed none. His distant Ruby ancestors had created Rhon psions for the Locks: his family were the last of its Keys.
Bowing his head, he summoned memories he hadn’t known he owned until now, knowledge encoded in his Kyle-mutated DNA. He repeated words from classical Iotic, a language different even from modern Iotic. As the syllables formed in his mind, he sank into a trance. His chant glimmered in the air, hieroglyphs that shifted and flowed in radiant power.
When Kelric finished, the Lock’s vibration changed, rising into audible range. Without conscious thought, he pressed a square on the controls in front of him. Silent and smooth, a drawer slid open on the right side of the console.
Two ancient gauntlets lay inside the drawer. They were made from a black leather composite that had survived for eons, and a silver material that shone like metal but flexed like skin. Picotech packed the gauntlets: bio-threads, superconducting conduits, web nodes, comms meshes in the leather. He had never seen any other Triad member wear gauntlets, not even his half brother Kurj. But these had a sense of rightness.
He pushed up the sleeve of his jumpsuit and put on one gauntlet. It fit his hand like a black glove, leaving his fingers free, and stretched to his elbow. Although heavy, it flexed with his arm, supple and comfortable, like a second skin. He clenched his fist and his muscles ridged the leather.
At first the gauntlet covered his wrist guard. Then a slit formed and widened to expose his guard. The leather fit so snugly about the gold that the gauntlet and guard could have been made from one piece. As he watched, fascinated, glimmering threads stretched out from pores in the gauntlet, reached across his guard, went into the hole drilled in the gold,
and entered his socket. When the threads met the biomech in his body, he knew a sense of joining, as if the gauntlet had greeted his own system.
Kelric put the second gauntlet on his other arm. It repeated the same process—
And he sensed another presence.
Father? he thought. His mind rumbled.
No answer.
He wasn’t sure he felt his father. It was more a blend of two minds. The rest of the Triad? But why two? If his aunt Dehya, the Ruby Pharaoh, had died, only his father remained.
Triad.
Dehya had been the Assembly Key, the liaison between the Ruby Dynasty and Imperial Assembly. His father was the Web Key, focused on maintaining the psiberweb. Kelric was about to become the Military Key. Imperator. But until he joined the Triad, it included only his father. Both Dehya and Soz had died in the Radiance War.
At Kelric’s thought of Soz, the Kyle singularity behind him stirred his mind. He rose to his feet and turned to the column. Light shifted within its radiant core. Yes, Soz had been in the Triad. Only echoes of her presence remained. She was gone. He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, faced with this final confirmation of his sister’s death.
But … two other presences remained.
Aunt Dehya? he asked.
No answer.
He walked to the Lock. It swirled before him, full and deep.
Come. Its call formed as neither words nor thoughts, but deep within his mind. Come.
He stepped into the singularity.
21
Lord of Otherwhere
Kelric, my son, listen dreaming to the stars.
To the ships, the eons, and the humming cars.
Kelric, my boy, listen softly to the tales,
Of children, of ball games, of blowing sails.
Kelric, my hope, named for endless, dreaming Youth