Nexus by Robert Boyczuk (best large ebook reader txt) 📕

“Viracosa, do you acknowledge?” The list had, apparently, come to its conclusion.

Until they knew more, it was best to remain non-committal. “We are unable to comply,” Sav said.

Silence, except for the soft crackle of background static. Then, “Please clarify.”

Josua drew his finger across his throat in the sign to cut communications. Sav said, “One moment,” and lifted his thumb. The switch blinked red again.

“We can outrun them,” Josua said. “Look.” While Sav had his brief exchange with the woman, Josua had been tapping at the keyboard on the pilot’s panel. The screen embedded in the board was filled with several columns of figures. “I’ve run the data. We’ve still got enough velocity so that if we cut our deceleration burn now, it’s unlikely she could catch us before we reached the Hub. Assuming, of course, she can’t squeeze any more gees of acceleration out of her ship.”

Sav was confounded. “I don’t understand,” he said quietly. “Why would we want to outrun them?”

Josua seemed annoyed as Sav’s question. “We don’t have time to deal with this ship. We need to reach the Hub. To pick up the antidote.”

He may be right, Sav thought. There was no telling if a ship set to patrol the perimeter of Nexus space would have the capability of synthesizing a cure. Sav looked at Josua; the other man had crossed his arms and rocked back in his seat. But it’s still only an excuse. That ship out there might be able to synthesize a cure. And Josua doesn’t seem to care. He has another reason for wanting to reach the Hub. Something he doesn’t want to tell me.

“Well?”

Sav pressed the transmit key; it changed to green. “Novitiate Lien. Our course has been set for the Hub,” Sav began. “We have no fuel reserves.” That wasn’t true, but then there was no way this woman could know-unless the drones out there had some way of scanning The Viracosa‘s holds. “We are obliged to continue on our course.”

“We will consult Hub authority.”

On the comm screen the message ‘Stand by’ appeared; the transmit switch went red under Sav’s thumb as she broke the circuit from her end. The Nexus ship was still more than a light hour out from the Hub, so a transmission would take at least one hour there and one hour back-not including the time required to pass the information up the hierarchy where a decision would be made. In all probability, it would be several hours before Lien received her instructions. Sav leaned back in his seat, prepared for a long wait.

But the flashing connect light came back online almost immediately. Sav opened a two way circuit. “Your request is denied,” the woman said.

Josua gripped the arms of his seat. “A Speaker,” he hissed. “They must have a Speaker aboard!”

And someone in authority waiting to deal with us, Sav realised. They had a response prepared. That seemed to confirm it: Nexus knew about Yilda’s party. But had Yilda achieved his objectives?

“You are not permitted to enter the exclusion zone.”

“We have no secondary destination,” Sav replied, trying to buy more time to think through the situation. “We’ll run out of fuel.”

“You are not permitted to enter the exclusion zone.”

That was it. They had reached an impasse. The only thing left to do was to begin the process they had planned so long ago. Sav began rhyming off the first set of codes he had memorized before leaving Bh’Haret: “One, one, two, four, seven, one, three, two, four.” Sweat gathered between the nape of his neck and the collar of his tee-shirt. In a voice that sounded strained and too loud to him, he added, “Any further attempt to interfere will result in the death of a Speaker. Do you copy?”

No response.

Sav waited a few seconds and repeated the sequence. “Do you copy?”

“Acknowledged. Counter sequence is Beta, Epsilon, Epsilon, Alpha, Rho.”

Sav couldn’t believe his ears. It was the correct response. Yilda’s party had made it!

“Request the transmission of the second key, Viracosa.”

The codes and responses were the linchpin of their scheme: a prearranged, and seemingly random, sequence of numbers and words. They knew they couldn’t trust the veracity of any message the Speakers might pass. Instead, they had devised a series of codes to pass basic information back and forth. Sav and Josua had each been given a dozen to memorize. As a precaution, neither man knew the other’s codes, although both knew what Yilda’s responses meant. Josua and Sav would alternate passing a key to the Speakers at the Hub who would transmit it to the Speakers at the relay station. Yilda would then immediately return his counter-sequence along the same channel. The one salient difference was that Yilda’s codes also had time values attached to them indicating when the next sequence should be forthcoming from The Viracosa. An inordinate delay-or incorrect sequence-and he would execute a Speaker.

“Viracosa, we are waiting for the next key.”

The message Yilda had sent required a confirmation code in three minutes. Sav glanced over at Josua. “Well?”

But Josua seemed lost in thought, staring intently at his board.

“The key.” Sav tried to keep the urgency he felt from his voice. “You need to send the next key.”

“Yeah,” Josua answered, snapping out of his reverie. Picking up his headset from its cradle, he bent the mike in front of his mouth and stabbed the button to patch his line in to the communication channel. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly: “Josua, Sav, Ruen.” It was the sequence that let Yilda know that they were about to begin negotiations.

“Hebuiza, Liis,” came the response.

Sav shook his head in incredulity. Yilda’s scheme seemed to be working. And he’d given them an hour before he expected a response. But where to begin? Perhaps it would be best to find out exactly what they knew.

“Novitiate Lien,” Sav transmitted, “do you understand the situation?”

“We have been apprised of the circumstances at-” The woman pronounced a word with twisting, guttural syllables Sav didn’t understand, but he took it to mean the relay station. “We have surmised the rest. In contravention of the provisions of the Ascension Program, you wish us to provide an antidote for your plague.”

“Yes. For our plague.” The words were galling to say, but Yilda had warned him Nexus would never admit responsibility. They couldn’t. An admission they were agents of genocide would unravel millennia of a carefully cultivated image. On worlds throughout the Polyarchy-and those about to join the Polyarchy-the political repercussions, the uncertainty and consequent unrest, would be devastating.

“We request transmission of your demands.”

Sav brought up a list on his screen that Hebuiza had prepared back on Bh’Haret. He read from it: “First, we require the antidote. Second, refuelling for The Viracosa. Third, safe passage back to Bh’Haret. Fourth, a guarantee that no member of this crew, or the one on the relay station, will be harmed directly or indirectly, by any action Nexus or its agents takes, now or in the future. Fifth, that no punitive action will be taken, directly or indirectly, against Bh’Haret or any of its inhabitants, including those currently in stasis, living off world or crewing other longhaul ships, by Nexus or its agents, now or in the future. Sixth, Nexus shall assist in every way possible the recovery of Bh’Haret as a viable habitat and with the repopulation of our world by natives still off-world or in stasis. Seventh, that Nexus shall release the entire catalog of Level IV technology to us and all other non-affiliated worlds….” The list went on for several more demands, the final one being that this list, along with a declaration of responsibility, was to be broadcast to every affiliated and non-affiliated world. But this requirement, like many of the other stipulations, was spurious. Part of Yilda’s plan had been to put forth several unreasonable demands as a starting point for negotiations. This, he had told Sav and Josua, would allow Nexus to save face by whittling down their demands to the essential first five.

“Anything else?”

Was that a hint of sarcasm in the woman’s voice? “No. That’s it.” Sav checked the clock on his screen. “You have sixty minutes to decide. If we do not have a response in this time period, a Speaker will be executed.”

“Copy, Viracosa. Your demands will be passed on to the Pro-Locutors.” The button changed to a steady red as the channel went into standby mode again. Sav released the rocker switch. The outline of the key was impressed deeply on the flesh of his thumb. Sav collapsed back into his seat and blew out a breath.

“That went nicely,” Josua said. Sitting rigidly in his seat at the pilot’s station, he began drumming the fingers of his right hand on the panel in a steady rhythm.

“Yeah,” Sav answered. “No problem.”

They waited.

“Viracosa. We are ready to discuss your demands.”

The response came back in fifty-three minutes. Seven minutes remained before the next sequence was to be transmitted. Sav, who’d been pacing the narrow aisle between the command panels and the webbing arrayed around the centre of the bridge, hustled as quickly as he could back to the comm station when the request connect signal had flashed. He pulled on the headset and opened the circuit. Josua, still in his seat at the pilot’s station, looked on.

“Discuss?” Sav said, out of breath. Sweat beaded on his brow. “What does that mean?”

“In the short time you have given us, we have examined your demands. We agree to accede to several. Others, however, will require more deliberation.”

“The next key must be returned to the relay station in-” Sav checked his watch, “- just over six minutes. So you better stop wasting your breath and tell me what your willing to give us.”

“Refuelling. Safe passage. These we can guarantee.”

No mention of their first demand: the antidote. “You know those things are worthless without the cure.”

“Yes,” the woman answered. “But what you’ve asked is impossible. How can we provide an antidote to a disease we have never seen?”

“Then there’s no point in continuing this discussion.” Sav shot back. “The first Speaker dies in five minutes.”

“I have been instructed to inform you that we will do everything in our power to synthesize an antidote. Although we do not anticipate any trouble in synthesizing a molecular nanoagent to disable or repair the deleterious effects of your plague, we will first require tissue and blood samples for analysis. Only upon completion of that analysis will we be able to confirm a broad spectrum antidote.”

Samples. Sav let go of the button and swore softly. Why hadn’t this possibility occurred to them? Yilda had told them Nexus would never admit responsibility. Of course they would need specimens. How else could Nexus ‘cure’ a plague they hadn’t caused? Sav pressed the switch. “We’ll require time prepare the samples and make arrangements for the transfer.” What those arrangements would be, Sav had no idea. But he’d work something out.

“We will begin analysis as soon as we are in receipt of the samples. To expedite the process, we request that you alter course to rendezvous with this platform.”

“Yes,” Sav said. “It would make up for a bit of the lost time. Please standby while we plot-”

“This is the commander of The Viracosa. I wish to talk to the Speaker aboard your vessel.” Josua had jacked