A pair of flint-faced regulators interdicted me outside the tram: a short man with silvered hair and sideburns, and a tall, muscular woman with braided red hair.
They wore black uniforms without rank or insignia. The Regulatory didn’t advertise their internal structure to the rest of colonists. My CATO did a facial scan and identified the man as Christopher Collins, Regulatory Liaison to Pod Four. I didn’t need CATO to identify the woman with aquamarine irises and thick braids of reddish hair wound beneath the low brim of her skiff hat. Morran Falsgate, former steward for the defunct Corex Corporation and the only executive officer to join us on our one-way trip to Elypso.
“You’re to come with us,” Morran said, speaking with the accent of the corporate elite—hard consonants, elongated vowels.
“You could have just pinged me,” I said.
“We prefer the human touch.”
“Is that why there’s two of you?” I shot a ping to Prescott, asking if he’d sent the Regulators or if they’d come with their own agenda.
Falsgate’s lips opened to expose perfect, white teeth. “Prescott is no longer the captain of the Chimera,” she said. “Chief Regulator Nivven has assumed the role of acting captain.”
“What …?” I stammered, searching the nets for media coverage reporting anything out of the ordinary. I found nothing, but fired a ping to Amaya, part question, part warning—
“The Regulatory has locked down all CATO communication,” Falsgate said, face bland, eyes unwavering. She knew. She’d been monitoring my CATO. I churned through columns of data, scoured the nets, found nothing hinting at a Regulatory coup d’état. Whatever they were up to, they’d not made it public. Or they exercised a level of control over the nets and CATO that bordered on total. I wasn’t sure which frightened me more.
Liaison Collins turned his sharp eyes my direction. “You will refrain from attempting to send unauthorized messages—especially while discoursing with the Ship Steward and acting First Officer of the Chimera.”
My eyes flicked from Collin’s face to Falsgate’s. “Are you arresting me?”
Falsgate’s face remained expressionless. “Arresting? No. Taking into protective custody? Yes.”
I laughed. “I don’t need your protection, even if I believed that’s what you’re offering, and I don’t. You lunatics always use the same language, the same euphemisms. I’ve seen this vid before and I know how it ends.”
The hint of a smile brought creases to the corners of Falsgate’s eyes, the first indication that an actual person lurked beneath the layers of her cultivated, corporate persona. “You don’t understand the situation and are misjudging my intent.”
“I understand a hostile takeover when I see one. Where’s Prescott? What have you done to him?” Another way of asking what they planned to do to me.
“Prescott surrendered his command.”
“So that’s how you’re going to spin it.” I glared at her, wondering if there would be a point in trying to fight them, of racing back to the command deck where Magpie, Compton, and Salazar remained at their substations, managing the down cycle paradox load. Neither would change my circumstances, though punching Falsgate and that prick of a “liaison” would feel good.
“We’re not ‘spinning’ anything,” Falsgate said, voice calm and assured. “What do you think is going to happen when you return to the crosshatch? Black’s dead. And the Chimera has rejected the person Prescott sold them as her replacement. The colonists are frightened. And angry. Some of them are angry enough they might do something stupid.”
“They know the Chimera rejected me? Did you tell them?”
“Why would we tell them something like that? No, the Chimera announced it in a ship-wide broadcast.”
My face warmed. Everyone on the ship knew I’d failed before I’d even had a chance to succeed.
“We need a new navigator,” Moran said, “and the Chimera has chosen you to help us find them.”
Before I could reply, before I could ask all the questions swirling through my mind like fall leaves caught in a stiff breeze, Falsgate projected imagery into the air in front of us:
A genderless face. Olive-skinned, brown eyed, her hair brushed straight back from the forehead. The Chimera spoke in a calm, emotionless voice, “Navigator Black is dead. Navigator Assistant Samuelson is an incompatible partner. Salix protocols govern the selection of a replacement. The Regulatory Office and its representatives along with Flight Officer Samuelson will conduct testing to evaluate the populace to locate a suitable replacement navigator. Your cooperation is required.”
I checked my CATO and saw that the Chimera had sent a priority flash across the nets while I was finishing our conversation inside the sphere. I’d been so absorbed in my own thoughts that I’d missed it.
“A very reassuring message,” Falsgate said.
“Was that all she said?” I asked.
“No,” Collins said. “She also posted a list of colonists slated for testing. She prioritized those with the perquisite aptitude and intelligence.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t make the cut?”
Collins bristled. I must have guessed right.
“What about you, Falsgate?” I asked. “Are you going to navigate us to Elypso?” I didn’t hold back my sarcasm.
“No. None of the senior Regulatory personnel made the list.”
I laughed. “I’ll bet Nivven just loves that. Now he can’t put one of his cronies in charge.”
“Do you have some issue with the Regulatory that we should know about?” Falsgate asked. “You’re acting like we’re on opposite sides here. We’re not.”
“I don’t like people reading my private CATO messages. And I don’t believe Prescott relinquished his command by choice. I know the man too well for that.”
Falsgate shrugged. “You’re right. He didn’t.”
“You forced him to step down?”
“No, but the Chimera did.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then stopped—why would she tell such an obvious lie? It gained her nothing. And if she wanted my assistance, she would tell me the truth—or as much of it as she needed to keep me moving in the right direction.
Falsgate offered a rueful smile. “The Chimera is calling the shots now, Samuelson. We’re under Salix protocols. We have a herculean task on our hands. We’ve got to hold our place in fractal without ripping stitches all the way back to Earth while we find a new navigator. Which means we need to work together. The Chimera wants you to preside over the evaluations, but you can’t organize something on that scale without our help.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“I shouldn’t have to do either. You swore an oath to protect this ship. To see her safely to Elypso. And the only way to do that is to cooperate with the Regulatory and help find us a new navigator.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her that I wouldn’t work with a bunch of corporate fascists. That she could kiss my backside. The problem was, she was right. The Chimera hadn’t left any room for argument. We needed a navigator. And if someone had to help her find one, I would rather do it myself than trust the task to Nivven or Falsgate. They didn’t know a thing about navigation or partnering with a Fractal Class ship.
I glanced at Moran, not liking my options, but resigned to make the best of the situation. “When do we get started?” I asked.
“You’re working for the Regulatory?” Amaya asked, suspicion in her voice.
We sat facing each other in my berth. Her hands cupping her face, elbows resting on her thighs. I didn’t like the way she was looking at me, or the insinuation in her tone.
“I’m not working for them,” I said. “It’s more of a partnership.”
“Sure. One where they tell you what to do.”
“That’s not how it’s going to work and you know it.”
“Corporations own,” she said.
I rose from my chair, turned my back on her.
“You don’t want to hear it, but it’s true,” Amaya said. “We didn’t need Black to die or Prescott to resign his command to see things for what they are. You think all those Regulators are along for the ride? Because they want to be colonists? Begin anew on a paradise planet! Bullshit. They’re enforcers. Always have been. Always will be.”
“Careful what you say,” I said.
Amaya stood and faced me, her eyes fierce. “Or what? They’ll overhear? Arrest me? Let them come.”
“I don’t care about the Regulatory.”
“What then? Your reputation? Your legacy? Nobody is going to read that journal you’re writing. Nobody will have time, much less care.”
“Is that what you think? That somehow this is about my ego?” I pulled the journal from my pocket and rifled through the pages, showing Amaya their emptiness. A jotted note here or there, observations of paradox loads—all of it terse, factual.
“I thought you wrote down every cycle,” Amaya said, voice softening.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “I thought you said no one was ever going to read it.”
“I might. Or your kids someday.”
“If I have any.”
A pang of hurt in Amaya’s eyes, quickly hidden. “I just don’t understand why you agreed to work for the Regulatory!”
“I didn’t!” I slammed the journal down on my workstation hard enough to make an empty drinking bulb topple and roll across the floor. It stopped next to Amaya’s sandaled feet. She touched it with the big toe of her left foot, eyes downcast.
What did Amaya want from me? It wasn’t like I had any choice in the matter. I didn’t like the Regulatory any more than she did, but I couldn’t have predicted Black’s death, or the Chimera’s response to it. The situation had been forced on me against my will, but Falsgate was right—I had a duty to the ship and her colonists. One that transcended my feelings about the Regulatory.
“I’m working for the Chimera,” I said, regaining a bit of my calm. “You saw the announcement. She won’t accept Magpie as a Navigator or any of the other NAs. When I tried asking her why, she got stuck in a logic loop. It’s not good, Amaya. I’m worried about her.”
Our eyes met. Unmet.
“You’re worried about the Chimera?”
“I don’t know … I guess I am.”
Amaya picked up the drinking bulb and placed it back atop my work station. “Did the Regulatory say what it is they want you to do?”
“Yes. I’ll be putting the Chimera’s list of potential candidates through a simple pass-fail cohesion test at the secondary sphere while the other NAs hold us in place. If any of the candidates pass the cohesion test, they’ll enter the sphere and I’ll chart their neural response to fractal space.”
“But how are they going to navigate us anywhere? It takes years to learn how!”
I crossed the floor put my arm around her, palm against the small of her back. “Which means we might be treading water for as long as that takes.” I bent to kiss her, but she turned her face away.
“Not with them watching.”
“I turned my CATO off.”
“And you think that matters?”
“They’re not gods, Amaya.”
“Some of them think they are. And that’s what scares me.”
END
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