“That’d be a neat trick,” al-Khaled replied. “Biology was one of those subjects I skipped in order to spend more time taking things apart and figuring out why they work. I’m an engineer, though, so that means I’m not above the occasional juicy rationalization.” Moving from the worktable, he crossed the chamber until he was able to run his hand across the surface of the dormant control consoles. “Still, it’s not hard to figure out that if we’re really looking at the kind of biomechanical fusion you’re talking about, it would be genetic engineering on a scale that’s way, way beyond anything we understand. Forget all about bionic prosthetics and the Eugenics Wars and cloning. This is a whole new ball game, Ming.”
Xiong nodded in approval at the engineer’s reasoning. Everything they had discussed fit with his theory as well as matched up with what he knew must have happened here during the incident with the Endeavour. According to what he and his team had learned to this point and in order for the power generators and other systems tied into the weapons unleashed against the starship to have been activated, an interface such as the one he and al-Khaled were theorizing would have to be involved.
The thing that attacked us— it must have contained the meta-genome. Thathas to be the answer.The more Xiong thought about it, the more excited he became at the notion. He was here, on the cusp of grasping a fundamental thread that weaved through the very fabric of the Taurus Reach mystery.
All that was needed was a substantive sample of the creature’s DNA.
Not the easiest task to complete,he mused with no small amount of frustration.
Feeling confined inside his insulated parka, Xiong unzipped the garment and allowed some of the chilled air permeating the chamber to cool him. “So,” he said, fighting to keep his mounting excitement in check, “how do we rig an interface for us, without subjecting ourselves to some bizarre and as yet incomprehensible form of genetic manipulation?”
Al-Khaled chuckled. “Off the top of my head? Develop something like a universal translator, though one capable of transmitting signals or impulses through an organic means.” Frowning, he added, “We’d have to devise a method to regulate the power flow—enough to communicate basic commands until we get a better grasp of whatever it uses for software, and not so much that we overload the control panel’s lattice the first time we use it.”
Xiong nodded as he considered the engineer’s off-the-cuff concept. Listening to it laid out in such straightforward terms lent all sorts of credence to his own theory about the meta-genome’s involvement in the use of the technology around them.
Everything we’ve been looking for could be right here, but where?
Feeling stuffy, he stood up in order to shrug out of his parka, and saw al-Khaled doing the same thing.
“Mahmud,” he asked, “have your people installed an enviro-control system down here?” He was unaware of any such task on the list of assignments that had been given to the Lovell’s team.
A frown creased al-Khaled’s olive complexion. “Not that I know of.”
Wiping his brow, Xiong was surprised to find a bead of perspiration wetting his fingertip. “It’s getting warmer in here.”
34
Throughout her time as a ship commander, Sarith always had regarded her quarters as a refuge, a place of solace from which she could—if only temporarily—escape the myriad burdens of leadership. The few precious hours she spent here when not on duty, be it sleeping or immersed in a treasured book or listening to favorite music, always had been vital to her well-being and peace of mind, in her opinion even more so than the exercise and diet regimen dictated to her by the Bloodied Talon’s physician.
Now, however, her sanctuary seemed more like a prison.
Without the faint yet omnipresent hum of the Talon’s warp engines channeling through the hull, it seemed to Sarith that much of the life had been removed not only from her quarters but also from the entire ship. A languid pall seemed draped over the room like a stifling blanket, even the air she breathed feeling heavy and stale in her lungs. Due to power conservation requirements enacted by the ship’s engineer, primary lighting throughout the ship had been reduced save for the most critical of uses. A single light source situated over her desk pierced the darkness of Sarith’s quarters, its feeble illumination managing only to chase the shadows to the corners of the room and offering the sensation that the bulkheads might be trying to close in on her when she was not looking.
Enough with that foolishness. You are not a child.
The reprimand seemed to echo within the confines of her sleep-deprived mind even as Sarith looked down at herself and allowed a small laugh to escape. For the first time she realized that she was sitting in her favorite overstuffed chair with her legs held close to her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees and pulling them tight to her. It was a pose she had adopted often as a young girl, sitting before the firepit in her family home and listening as her grandfather read aloud from a book of treasured stories, his nightly gift to his grandchildren before it was time to sleep. Sometimes the stories were frightening and young Sarith would be frightened, tuck her body into a ball in an attempt to ward off the monsters described in the pages of the storybook.
“If only it were that simple,” she said, though there was no one else in the room to hear her.
A gentle knock echoed on her door, a substitute for the intercom tone that sounded whenever one of her guards notified her of a visitor. Power consumption aboard ship had been reallocated to the point that even such small indulgences as a door chime were viewed as wasteful.
“Enter,” Sarith called out, loud enough to be heard in the corridor beyond her quarters. A few seconds passed as the centurion outside used a manual release lever to open the door, and she smiled as she beheld Ineti standing before the threshold.
“May I come in, Commander?” he asked, his wizened features warmed by an almost paternal smile.
Rising from her chair, Sarith motioned her second-in-command to enter. She waited for the guard to close the door before stepping forward and throwing her arms around her lifelong friend, ignoring the resulting pain in her side. Ineti said nothing, merely wrapping his own arms around her and allowing her the time to extract as much comfort from the gesture as she needed.
“My trusted friend…for as long as I can remember,” she said after a moment, patting his chest before pulling herself away and using her hands to smooth the wrinkles from her uniform. “You’ve always known how much I look to you for strength and guidance, and never have you considered it a weakness, just as you’ve never asked anything in return. If we are to die, I can think of no better way to do so than with you at my side.”
Ineti’s eyebrows rose. “You’ll forgive me, Commander, if I refuse to look ahead to that tragic event with any great enthusiasm.” Looking toward the ceiling of her quarters as if contemplating the stars that lay beyond the hull of the ship, he added, “We are not finished yet, Sarith. So long as we draw breath, we are not yet defeated.”
“Save that for the crew,” Sarith countered as she turned toward a small bureau positioned near her desk and retrieved a half-consumed bottle of ale along with two glasses. Motioning Ineti to be seated in the chair situated near her desk, she poured generous portions of the radiant blue liquid into the glasses before offering one to her companion. “What’s our current status?” she asked as she returned to her recliner, attempting to reassert herself at least somewhat into a command mind-set.