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

“I am a Speaker,” the woman answered curtly. She sounded annoyed, as if she felt she’d been insulted. “There is no one else on the platform.”

Sav was surprised that the woman would casually reveal this information. Perhaps she was so confident of her ability to handle the situation that she didn’t care what two desperate men from a backwater planet knew.

“We will not change our current heading,” Josua said coolly, “until we receive the antidote.” He signalled Sav to cut the connection.

Sav lifted his thumb. “What are you doing? We can save a couple of hours by changing course.”

“A few hours won’t make any difference,” Josua answered. “And it’s too early to begin making concessions.”

“Viracosa! Your transmit channel has gone dead. Please respond.”

“Concessions? How’s that a concession?”

“Can’t you hear it?” Josua asked, cocking an ear towards the overhead speaker. “She’s upset. She’s anxious to draw us away from Nexus space. It makes her masters nervous that we’re driving towards the Hub.” Josua shrugged. “Don’t ask me why. I can’t see what sort of threat that we would pose. But, for whatever reason, they feel we are a threat. And anything that makes them nervous increases their desire to negotiate. Now reconnect me.”

“Viracosa. This is Novitiate Lien. Request that you reopen your transmission circuit.”

Reluctantly, Sav pressed the transmit key.

“Novitiate Lien,” Josua said calmly, “we’re maintaining our current course. Our instruments indicate you’ve plotted an intercept course.”

“Yes.”

“Then the transfer of the specimens will take place at the point of interception. We’ll put the samples in the emergency docking tube on the nose of our ship. When we rendezvous, you may pick them up there. You must retrieve them personally. Your ship is to approach no closer than one thousand meters and you must traverse the intervening space alone, with no umbilicals and the minimum of EVA equipment. At no time is a remote, or any other machinery, to leave your ship or enter the tube. If you fail to accept these conditions, we will not transmit the next sequence. Do you understand?”

“Understood. But given the circumstances, I am required to consult my superiors.”

“Fine. You have,” Josua checked the console, “three and a half minutes to make up your mind.”

The ‘Stand By’ message appeared on the comm screen as the Speaker killed her transmit channel. Sav released his own switch. He spun his chair around. “Dammit, Josua! Why in God’s name do we have to let a Speaker into our docking tube? We could have put the samples into a container and expelled them from the airlock.”

“What container? We stripped every excess gram out of this ship before we set out. I know. I did most of the off-loading myself. We don’t have any airtight sample bags, or a sealable bag, for that matter. Just a few torn food pouches. A couple of seconds of vacuum and the samples would be useless.”

“What about the dropship?”

“Cleaned out too. Unless you mean you want to send the whole ship over as a giant container. But I don’t think that would be a good idea since we’ll be needing it to get back down to the surface of Bh’Haret.” Josua crossed his arms. “This is the least risky alternative. We can isolate the tube, make a few changes to minimise the risk. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we can do given the situation.”

“It’s nuts,” Sav said angrily. “Once in the tube there’s no telling what damage this woman might do. She could release nanoagents to take control of The Viracosa-or us. Bringing this woman aboard will give her precisely the opportunity Nexus needs to sabotage our ship.” When the Ea had left Bh’Haret on its longhaul, nanotechnology had been in its infancy, no more than theory. But Nexus had been successfully engineering on the molecular level for over a millennium. Creating the sub-microscopic nanomachines needed to disable a ship-or a person-would be child’s play for them. A single touch from the Speaker might release thousands of invisible molecular machines that would swarm along the tube to infect their ship.

Josua shrugged, unconcerned. “For all we know we’re already infected. Do you think Nexus seeded space with those drones and left them toothless?”

Josua’s words brought Sav up short. He’d almost forgotten their silent escort. If the drones had the capability, they could have infected The Viracosa a thousand times over by now.

“We don’t have any choice,” Josua concluded. “Or, at least not enough time to manufacture another choice.”

A Speaker in the docking tube. Sav didn’t like it. But he could see no alternative. And Josua was right. Time was slipping away from them quickly. Glancing at the display, Sav saw that only two minutes remained before the next sequence needed to be sent. If Yilda was true to form, he would wait those two minutes, but not a second more. Sav watched the digits count down. When the time ticked past the one minute mark, the ‘Link Established’ message reappeared on the screen. Sav enabled the channel.

“We…we agree to your conditions.” Novitiate Lien’s voice had taken on a querulous tone.

For the first time Sav imagined this whole encounter from her point of view. She was being forced to leave the protection of her ship to retrieve the samples. And to place herself at the mercy of two desperate madmen. For the briefest of seconds as he pushed the transmit switch down, Sav almost felt sorry for her.

“Good,” Josua replied as soon as the circuit was open. “You’ve plotted a course with intercept in…” he glanced at the pilot’s screen, “…eighteen point oh eight three hours. Maintain that course and we’ll extend our emergency tube prior to intercept. Do you copy?”

“Acknowledged, Viracosa. Please transmit the second key….”

Josua rose, peeled off his headset and dropped it onto the pilot’s seat. With a slashing sign across his throat, he indicated Sav should cut the circuit. When the light changed to flashing red, Josua said, “We have to be firm in the beginning. To demonstrate our commitment to this action. It’s all part of the game.” He trotted towards the ladder belowdecks. “Now you can transmit the key,” he said to Sav over his shoulder. Pausing, he turned back, a strange expression on his face. “Don’t worry. You’ll see it’s all for the best.” He grabbed the top rung, swung himself onto the ladder, and clambered from sight.

Sav glanced at the display. There were still thirty seconds left before Yilda would carry out the execution. Pressing the rocker switch, Sav reopened the circuit. Then he spoke the next sequence, pronouncing each word clearly: “‘Such is anhaa-10‘s pleasure’,” he quoted the first part of Ruen’s oft repeated mantra.

The response came back within seconds: ”’Pray Blasphemer, for the Dissolution is at hand.’”

Access to the emergency docking tube was through an escape hatch above the flight deck. Beyond the hatch a narrow passage, crammed with pipes, conduits and the electronics of their communication and navigation systems, led from the inner hull to a dilation lock on the outer hull. On the other side of the lock was the emergency docking tube, a six meter long squat silver tube perched on the nose of the ship, the fore and aft sections containing the apparatus for simple air locks. The tube could be telescoped, via a rigid polycarbon-steel umbilical, to a distance of twenty meters.

While Sav continued to engage the woman in negotiations, Josua had gone belowdecks to prepare blood and tissue samples. Yilda’s last message had given them twenty-one hours-the length of a standard day on Bh’Haret-before Josua would have to send the next sequence. Time enough, supposedly, to complete the initial negotiations.

In the midst of a protracted discussion on the finer points of transferring the fuel, Josua returned from belowdecks, a sack slung over his shoulder by a single strap. A muffled clanking came from the bag as he hoisted himself up the ladder and undogged the hatch to the emergency tube with one hand while holding a rung with his other. He pulled down a short ladder from the opening and hauled himself up. Metal clanged on metal.

Sav ignored the noise. Instead, he tried to focus on the endless back and forth of his discussion with the Speaker. Nexus had agreed, in principle, to their first five demands, but waffled on several of the others, adamantly refusing to release Level IV technology to non-affiliates. However, they were willing to discuss their role in the revitalization of Bh’Haret. In the last few hours they had been negotiating the finer points of what form their participation might take. For Sav it was hard to concentrate: what point was there to any of this without a cure? And, according to Nexus, that hinged on the analysis of the samples. Doubt had crept into Sav’s mind. Was it possible Nexus hadn’t seeded Bh’Haret with the plague after all? That they didn’t know if they could cure the plague? Or had these uncertainties been purposely planted in his mind by Nexus’ steadfast refusal to accept responsibility for the plague? Whenever he tried to sort these things out, his head began to ache.

Novitiate Lien suggested a breather; Sav agreed with barely concealed relief. Massaging his temples, he sank back into his couch. The sounds of Josua’s labour drifted down into the cabin. As tired as Sav was, sleep was unthinkable. He decided to keep an eye on the comm board. He brought up a display in the centre of the bridge that showed both craft, and two broken lines representing their courses. The lines intersected just outside the rose-tinted sphere marking the boundary of Nexus space. Staring at the display, Sav chewed absent-mindedly on his lower lip, wondering how Yilda could have overlooked the need to transfer samples to the Speakers. It was out of character. Facilitators spent their entire lives anticipating the moves and countermoves involved in negotiations. Not to have foreseen something so obvious seemed, well, incredible.

Above, the noise finally stopped.

What would Yilda have thought about a Speaker crawling around in their emergency docking tube? But Sav had no means of asking: since the Speakers were capable of altering the content of any message they passed, Yilda had forbid Sav and Josua to communicate anything but the simple, prearranged codes. And their codes were, of necessity, crude, incapable of conveying anything other than the general progress of their mission: contact established, negotiation begun, negotiation concluded. Success. Failure. Their lives had been reduced to a simple binary code, yes/no, on/off, live/die.

Sav checked the clock on the comm board: five hours had elapsed since they’d agreed to transfer the samples. Five more hours subtracted from the time they had left.

A new sound-or, more accurately, the suggestion of another sound, a hum really-filtered down from the tube.

But then Sav realised it wasn’t coming from the tube at all. It was coming from belowdecks. The hum grew until he could hear it distinctly. Propelling himself from his seat, Sav hustled to the ladder below decks and descended quickly. Down here, the noise filled the cabin, vibrating through the floorplates and bulkheads. It was the pumps below the stasis cells cycling up. Sav stared at the status screen next to Ruen’s cell. When Josua had disappeared belowdecks, he’d done more than prepare the samples and collect a few tools; he’d also keyed in the sequence to wake the patrix.

The gap continued to diminish. The Speaker’s ship closed on its hyperbolic course coming up behind The Viracosa. Attitude jets, as big as The Viracosa‘s main engines, fired as the Speaker moved her craft into position, the two