Borders of Infinity

Fell? Would the space station guarding the distant wormhole exit be ordered to block their escape?

'I didn't want to just abandon her,' dithered Canaba, 'but I couldn't take her with me!'

'I should hope not. You're totally unfit to have charge of her. I'm going to urge her to join the Dendarii Mercenaries. It would seem to be her genetic destiny. Unless you know some reason why not?'

'But she's going to die!'

Miles stopped short. 'And you and I are not?' he said softly after a moment, then more loudly, 'Why? How soon?'

'It's her metabolism. Another mistake, or concatenation of mistakes. I don't know when, exactly. She could go another year, or two, or five. Or ten.'

'Or fifteen?'

'Or fifteen, yes, though not likely. But early, still.' 'And yet you wanted to take from her what little she had? Why?'

'To spare her. The final debilitation is rapid, but very painful, to judge from what some of the other . . . prototypes, went through. The females were more complex than the males, I'm not certain . . . But it's a ghastly death. Especially ghastly as Ryoval's slave.'

'I don't recall encountering a lovely death yet. And I've seen a variety. As for duration, I tell you we could all go in the next fifteen minutes, and where is your tender mercy then?' He had to get to Nav and Com. 'I declare your interest in her forfeit, doctor. Meanwhile, let her grab what life she can.'

'But she was my project—I must answer for her—'

'No. She's a free woman now. She must answer for herself.'

'How free can she ever be, in that body, driven by that metabolism, that face—a freak's life—better to die painlessly, than to have all that suffering inflicted on her—'

Miles spoke through his teeth. With emphasis. 'No. It's. Not.'

Canaba stared at him, shaken out of the rutted circle of his unhappy reasoning at last.

That's right, doctor, Miles's thought glittered. Get your head out of your ass and look at me. Finally.

'Why should . . . you care?' asked Canaba.

'I like her. Rather better than I like you, I might add.' Miles paused, daunted by the thought of having to explain to Taura about the gene complexes in her calf. And sooner or later they'd have to retrieve them. Unless he could fake it, pretend the biopsy was some sort of medical standard operating procedure for Dendarii induction — no. She deserved more honesty than that.

Miles was highly annoyed at Canaba for putting this false note between himself and Taura and yet—without the gene complexes, would he have indeed gone in after her as his boast implied? Extended and endangered his assigned mission just out of the goodness of his heart, yeah? Devotion to duty, or pragmatic ruthlessness, which was which? He would never know, now. His anger receded, and exhaustion washed in, the familiar post-mission down—too soon, the mission was far from over, Miles reminded himself sternly. He inhaled. 'You can't save her from being alive, Dr. Canaba. Too late. Let her go. Let go.'

Canaba's lips were unhappily tight, but, head bowing, he turned his hands palm-out.

'Page the Admiral,' Miles heard Thorne say as he entered Nav and Com, then 'Belay that,' as heads swivelled toward the swish of the doors and they saw Miles. 'Good timing, sir.'

'What's up?' Miles swung into the com station chair Thorne indicated. Ensign Murka was monitoring ship's shielding and weapons systems, while their Jump pilot sat at the ready beneath the strange crown of his headset with its chemical cannulae and wires. Pilot Padget's expression was inward, controlled and meditative; his consciousness fully engaged, even merged, with the Ariel. Good man.

'Baron Ryoval is on the com for you,' said Thorne. 'Personally.'

'I wonder if he's checked his freezers yet?' Miles settled in before the vid link. 'How long have I kept him waiting?'

'Less than a minute,' said the com officer.

'Hm. Let him wait a little longer, then. What's been launched in pursuit of us?'

'Nothing, so far,' reported Murka.

Miles's brows rose at this unexpected news. He took a moment to compose himself, wishing he'd had time to clean up, shave, and put on a fresh uniform before this interview, just for the psychological edge. He scratched his itching chin and ran his hands through his hair, and wriggled his damp sock toes against the deck matting, which they barely reached. He lowered his station chair slightly, straightened his spine as much as he could, and brought his breathing under control. 'All right, bring him up.'

The rather blurred background to the face that formed over the vid plate seemed faintly familiar—ah yes, the Security Ops room at Ryoval Biologicals. Baron Ryoval had arrived personally on that scene as promised. It took only one glance at the dusky, contorted expression on Ryoval's youthful face to fill in the rest of the scenario. Miles folded his hands and smiled innocently. 'Good morning, Baron. What can I do for you?'

'Die, you little mutant!' Ryoval spat. 'You! There isn't going to be a bunker deep enough for you to burrow in. I'll put a price on your head that will have every bounty hunter in the galaxy all over you like a second skin—you'll not eat or sleep—I'll have you—'

Yes, the baron had seen his freezers all right. Recently. Gone entirely was the suave contemptuous dismissal of their first encounter. Yet Miles was puzzled by the drift of his threats. It seemed the baron expected them to escape Jacksonian local space. True, House Ryoval owned no space fleet, but why not rent a dreadnought from Baron Fell and attack now? That was the ploy Miles had most expected and feared, that Ryoval and Fell, and maybe Bharaputra too, would combine against him as he attempted to carry off their prizes.

'Can you afford to hire bounty hunters now?' asked Miles mildly. 'I thought your assets were somewhat reduced. Though you still have your surgical specialists, I suppose.'

Ryoval, breathing heavily, wiped spittle from his mouth. 'Did my dear little brother put you up to this?'

'Who?' said Miles, genuinely startled. Yet another player in the game . . . ? 'Baron Fell.'

'I was . . . not aware you were related,' said Miles. 'Little brother?'

'You lie badly,' sneered Ryoval. 'I knew he had to be behind this.'

'You'll have to ask him,' Miles shot at random, his head spinning as the new datum rearranged all his estimates. Damn his mission briefing, which had never mentioned this connection, concentrating in detail only on House Bharaputra. Half-brothers only, surely—yes, hadn't Nicol mentioned something about 'Fell's half-brother'?

'I'll have your head for this,' foamed Ryoval. 'Shipped back frozen in a box. I'll have it encased in plastic and hang it over my—no, better. Double the money for the man who brings you in alive. You will die slowly, after infinite degradation—'

In all, Miles was glad the distance between them was widening at high acceleration.

Ryoval interrupted his own tirade, dark brows snapping down in sudden suspicion. 'Or was it Bharaputra who hired you? Trying to block me from cutting in on their biologicals monopoly at the last, not merging as they promised?'

'Why, now,' drawled Miles, 'would Bharaputra really mount a plot against the head of another House? Do you have personal evidence that they do that sort of thing? Or—who did kill your, ah, brother's clone?' The connections were locking into place at last. Ye gods. It seemed Miles and his mission had blundered into the middle of an on-going power struggle of byzantine complexity. Nicol had testified that Fell had never pinned down the killer of his young duplicate. . . . 'Shall I guess?'

'You know bloody well,' snapped Ryoval. 'But which of them hired you? Fell, or Bharaputra? Which?'

Ryoval, Miles realized, knew absolutely nothing yet of the real Dendarii mission against House Bharaputra. And with the atmosphere among the Houses being what it apparently was, it could be quite a long time before they got around to comparing notes. The longer the better, from Miles's point of view. He began to suppress, then deliberately released, a small smile. 'What, can't you believe it was just my personal blow against the genetic slave trade? A deed in honor of my lady?'