A Rising Thunder

be providing the treecat, but it’s the closest we can come to providing a lie detector without risking triggering any suicide protocols that might be hidden away down inside him.”

“A concern which also explains why he hasn’t been interrogated with the assistance of…pharmaceutical enhancement, let’s say,” Rabenstrange observed.

“Exactly.” Honor sighed. “The problem is he’s the only intelligence asset we’ve got where this Alignment is concerned, Chien-lu. We’re treating him with velvet gloves because we literally can’t afford to lose him.”

“Understood.”

MacGuiness returned with a cup of coffee, a chilled stein of beer, and a platter of cheeses, fruit, and celery. Rabenstrange nodded his thanks as he accepted the coffee, and waited until the steward had left the day cabin before he turned back to Honor.

“I understand the limitations you’re facing,” he said, “and because I do, I don’t think I’ll be taking the Empress and the President up on their generous offer to personally interview Dr. Simoes. I would like my intelligence staff to review the recordings of his debriefing sessions, but let’s not do anything we can avoid which might add even more stress to his situation.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that,” Honor said sincerely, but she also cocked her head inquiringly, and he shrugged.

“Speaking to him directly isn’t likely to tell me anything I won’t already see from the debriefing recordings. I understand the reason for the offer — to demonstrate that your intelligence people are being as forthcoming as possible — but all a direct interrogation could do would be to give him the opportunity to reconfirm what he’s already told you.”

Honor nodded slowly, and Rabenstrange sipped coffee thoughtfully, eyes unfocused as he gazed at something only he could see for several moments. Then he gave himself a small shake and looked back at Honor.

“So, having said that, and bearing in mind the reservation you’ve already noted, do you believe this McBryde’s allegations?”

“Do I believe them?”

“Please, Honor!” Rabenstrange shook a chiding finger at her. “You’ve had considerably longer to think about it than I have, you’ve had better access not just to Simoes but to Captain Zilwicki and Officer Cachat, and there’s that little matter of what almost happened to you aboard this very ship.” The chiding finger stiffened and pointed at the decksole, and the herzog’s expression turned much more serious. “I know you were close to Lieutenant Mears, so I know how losing him, especially in that fashion, must have hurt. Believe me, losing Colonel Hofschulte and his younger son hurt Prince Huang. For Huang — and for me — that gives you what I think we might both agree to call a special perspective.”

Honor’s mouth had tightened, but she nodded in understanding. She paused and took a swallow of Old Tillman, then looked back at him.

“All I can say is that both Captain Zilwicki and Officer Cachat believe that at least the majority of McBryde’s information, and the business about the nanotech assassinations in particular, was the truth to the best of McBryde’s knowledge. That’s also Dr. Simoes’ belief, although he himself had no knowledge of the Alignment’s clandestine operations. Having said that, Simoes is clearly prejudiced in McBryde’s favor. As nearly as I can tell, and Nimitz agrees with me in this, McBryde was probably Simoes’ only friend in the world by the time the two of them decided to defect. I don’t personally believe McBryde was manipulating him as some sort of elaborate disinformation sting, but in all honesty, I can’t completely rule out that possibility.”

She paused, regarding Rabenstrange steadily, and tasted his slow mental nod, his satisfaction that she was doing her absolute best to be completely honest with him.

“Obviously, we all wish McBryde had gotten out along with Simoes. In some ways, it’s almost more frustrating to have the bits and pieces we have — or appear to have, anyway — without confirmation than it would have been to remain completely ignorant. Nonetheless, everything we’ve been able to check tests out, Simoes believed he was telling the truth, and the gross description he gave of how the nanotech is supposed to work is fully consistent with what I personally saw in Lieutenant Mears’ case.”

“How so?” Rabenstrange asked gently.

“McBryde was a security agent, not a scientist.” Honor’s tone became almost clinical. “He couldn’t explain the actual mechanisms, and, to be honest, we’re all confident he was holding back details he could have given us as bargaining chips further down the road. And as added incentives for Zilwicki and Cachat to get him and Simoes out in the first place, of course.” She shrugged ever so slightly. “I don’t see how any reasonable person could blame him for that, under the circumstances.

“At any rate, according to his explanation, the Alignment’s developed an extremely sophisticated, virus- based, organic nanotech. Personally, I think that’s evidence of just how crazy they all are, but that might be the Beowulfer in me, and they, at least, are apparently confident of their ability to control it and keep it from mutating. All I can say is that I hope they’re right about that.”

Rabenstrange nodded soberly, and she continued.

“McBryde said — I’ve seen the recording he provided to Captain Zilwicki, and I’ll see to it you get a copy, as well — that the nanotech has to be specifically engineered for its target. They have to get their hands on a sample of the target’s genetic material, then build the nannies around that material. If McBryde’s right about that, that’s almost certainly the primary reason no forensic examination has turned up any evidence of it. It breaks down almost instantly after completing its function, and it’s all tagged as a legitimate component of the target’s own body.

“McBryde either didn’t know or didn’t say exactly how sophisticated the nanotech’s ‘programming’ can be, but our best estimate based on what he did say is that it has to work something like transferred muscle memory.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Transferred muscle memory.” Honor repeated. “ONI consulted my father as one of the Star Empire’s leading neurosurgeons as soon as they started trying to evaluate McBryde’s claims,” she didn’t add that he’d also been called in because of his personal connection with her and the monumentally high security clearances which went with it, but she really didn’t have to, “and I’ve discussed it personally with him. He doesn’t like the implications one bit, but he says it’s at least theoretically possible. In fact, he thinks there are probably some similarities between the way the nanotech works and the way this works.”

She held up her artificial left hand and flexed its fingers.

“When I was learning to handle this, I had to relearn all the muscle memory using the new neural connections — connections which were significantly different from the organic ones I’d always had. Apparently, if my dad’s right, what they do is to use a human…call her a ‘host,’ for want of a better word, to ‘train’ the nanotech pretty much the same way I trained my prosthesis and my own brain. Again, assuming he’s right, they can only train it to carry out limited and probably very specific physical actions. That doesn’t mean the physical actions can’t be complex, according to my dad, but that they can probably only put them together in specific combinations, and there’s a data storage limitation — probably a pretty severe one — on what they can actually pack into the nanotech. For example, I’ve viewed the bridge imagery of the day Tim was killed.”

Her voice roughened suddenly, her mouth tightened, her eyes darkened, and she paused again before she could continue.

“I’ve viewed the bridge imagery,” her soprano was almost as clinical, as detached, as before when she went on once more, “and aside from drawing Simon’s pulser and opening fire, he never moved from the instant whatever was controlling him took over. He simply stood in one place, held the trigger down, and swept his fire across the bridge. Looking at the security imagery of the Havenite ambassador’s chauffeur shooting Admiral Webster, you see very much the same thing. He draws his weapon, he opens fire — hitting three other people, not just the Admiral — and simply stands there until he’s shot in turn. No attempt to escape, no effort to take cover or evade return fire, nothing. We haven’t had the opportunity to look at any imagery your security people may have of Colonel Hofschulte, so I can’t say how consistent that is in his case, but that’s the pattern we’re apparently seeing.

“Now, according once again to my dad, there has to be another component, some sort of organic AI, you might say. His best guess is that it probably sets up residence in some corner of the target’s brain, but it wouldn’t necessarily have to be located there as long as it has access to the central nervous system. Presumably the AI is