sure I’m following your thinking,” Wexx said.
“I will state it baldly then. In your opinion, did Premier Lang make certain we had faulty shifters?”
“Captain Nagasaki! Premier Lang is the guiding hand of humanity. He represents order and this is the greatest mission in a thousand years. We seek to insure the survival of the human race by starting over in a perfect system. I would think with your concern of cyborgs that—”
“The projected system is now a mere 18.69 light years away,” Nagasaki said. “With Venice, it would have been a few more jumps. With our present shifters…”
“I’m not worried about reaching New Eden,” Wexx said. “It’s going back home again that troubles me.”
Nagasaki glanced at the occupied stasis tube. He stared for some time. Finally, with his thumb, he tapped the scrambler. The high-pitched noise stopped.
“Do you—” Wexx said.
Nagasaki raised a slender hand. As he lowered his hand, he bowed his head respectfully before turning and exiting the chamber.
Wexx watched him go, wondering what she would tell the chief monitor.
Making her decision, Wexx spoke to Argon three hours later. The chief monitor stood in medical. An orderly worked in another chamber, the hatch open between the two rooms.
“I spoke with Captain Nagasaki,” Wexx said softly.
Argon listened to her. He was good at it, with his large arms folded across his chest.
“He used a scrambler. I told him I could not be party to this. He proceeded to tell me that some aboard ship are restless, possibly considering mutiny.”
“Did he indicate who these others were?” Argon asked in his deep voice.
“No.”
“Did the captain seem… like himself?”
Wexx blinked several times. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Argon seemed to think over his next words. “Has Captain Nagasaki approached you like this before?”
“Certainly not,” Wexx said. “I would have reported it if he had. What do you mean anyway, ‘Did he seem like himself?’ I find the question disturbing.”
“Doctor, Venice did not act like herself the other day in the tele-chamber. Some of the other crew…”
“Go on,” Wexx said.
The chief monitor seemed to switch gears. “There has been a rash of anomalies in behavior these past few days. You are the psych advisor. I thought perhaps you would have noticed.”
“The captain is a harsh individual and he is driven to a dangerous task.”
“No doubt you’re referring to cyborgs.”
“I am,” Wexx said. “Given his nature, when he speaks about mutiny, I become concerned. He does not strike me as given to idle speech.”
“Your point is well taken, Doctor. I will redouble my surveillance.”
“You won’t tell him I was the one who—”
“Doctor, I will keep this conversation in strict confidence. Nor will I apprehend him for questioning. Your topic is a delicate one. If he has more confederates—other than the few crewmembers who voyaged with him aboard
Argonaut
—I want to know who these confederates are. They are hidden now, but with the addition of your information, I am confident of uncovering their identities soon.”
“Do you truly think they will mutiny?” Wexx asked.
“I doubt it, but people often make rash decisions. If they do try—do not fear, Doctor. The monitors have the situation under control. We know what to do.”
Wexx nodded, feeling better about the talk. She had done the right thing. The monitors followed the rules and they had the power to enforce order. She had nothing to worry about now other than keeping the Specials mentally fit.
7
After the fifth successful shift since Venice’s murderous attack,
Discovery
seemed to settle back into a normal routine.
Even as he floated in the marine combat training chamber, Cyrus knew that was an illusion.
He drifted shirtless in the chamber. He was lean, with whipcord muscles and more scars than any marine. Most of the old wounds were thin white lines that had come from knives or
“I will state it baldly then. In your opinion, did Premier Lang make certain we had faulty shifters?”
“Captain Nagasaki! Premier Lang is the guiding hand of humanity. He represents order and this is the greatest mission in a thousand years. We seek to insure the survival of the human race by starting over in a perfect system. I would think with your concern of cyborgs that—”
“The projected system is now a mere 18.69 light years away,” Nagasaki said. “With Venice, it would have been a few more jumps. With our present shifters…”
“I’m not worried about reaching New Eden,” Wexx said. “It’s going back home again that troubles me.”
Nagasaki glanced at the occupied stasis tube. He stared for some time. Finally, with his thumb, he tapped the scrambler. The high-pitched noise stopped.
“Do you—” Wexx said.
Nagasaki raised a slender hand. As he lowered his hand, he bowed his head respectfully before turning and exiting the chamber.
Wexx watched him go, wondering what she would tell the chief monitor.
Making her decision, Wexx spoke to Argon three hours later. The chief monitor stood in medical. An orderly worked in another chamber, the hatch open between the two rooms.
“I spoke with Captain Nagasaki,” Wexx said softly.
Argon listened to her. He was good at it, with his large arms folded across his chest.
“He used a scrambler. I told him I could not be party to this. He proceeded to tell me that some aboard ship are restless, possibly considering mutiny.”
“Did he indicate who these others were?” Argon asked in his deep voice.
“No.”
“Did the captain seem… like himself?”
Wexx blinked several times. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Argon seemed to think over his next words. “Has Captain Nagasaki approached you like this before?”
“Certainly not,” Wexx said. “I would have reported it if he had. What do you mean anyway, ‘Did he seem like himself?’ I find the question disturbing.”
“Doctor, Venice did not act like herself the other day in the tele-chamber. Some of the other crew…”
“Go on,” Wexx said.
The chief monitor seemed to switch gears. “There has been a rash of anomalies in behavior these past few days. You are the psych advisor. I thought perhaps you would have noticed.”
“The captain is a harsh individual and he is driven to a dangerous task.”
“No doubt you’re referring to cyborgs.”
“I am,” Wexx said. “Given his nature, when he speaks about mutiny, I become concerned. He does not strike me as given to idle speech.”
“Your point is well taken, Doctor. I will redouble my surveillance.”
“You won’t tell him I was the one who—”
“Doctor, I will keep this conversation in strict confidence. Nor will I apprehend him for questioning. Your topic is a delicate one. If he has more confederates—other than the few crewmembers who voyaged with him aboard
Argonaut
—I want to know who these confederates are. They are hidden now, but with the addition of your information, I am confident of uncovering their identities soon.”
“Do you truly think they will mutiny?” Wexx asked.
“I doubt it, but people often make rash decisions. If they do try—do not fear, Doctor. The monitors have the situation under control. We know what to do.”
Wexx nodded, feeling better about the talk. She had done the right thing. The monitors followed the rules and they had the power to enforce order. She had nothing to worry about now other than keeping the Specials mentally fit.
7
After the fifth successful shift since Venice’s murderous attack,
Discovery
seemed to settle back into a normal routine.
Even as he floated in the marine combat training chamber, Cyrus knew that was an illusion.
He drifted shirtless in the chamber. He was lean, with whipcord muscles and more scars than any marine. Most of the old wounds were thin white lines that had come from knives or
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