Asimov's SF, October-November 2011 (10 page)

She frowned. She did not believe in magic. She believed there were things in the universe she did not understand, things that functioned in ways she couldn't explain, but that didn't mean those things were magic.

Still, she didn't want to argue with Quint. Not yet, anyway.

"Enlighten me,” she said.

"Professor Dane believes that ships can move quicker in a microburst than they should be able to,” Quint said. “He thinks that the Dignity Vessels have a drive different than, maybe even faster than, an FTL, and combined with the cloak, that makes them magical. When you asked your question, you threatened to destroy his magical theory and it unnerved him."

"I thought I just nipped at his pride by questioning his expertise,” she said.

"That too,” Quint said, cradling his mug. “But you also believe in magic."

She resisted the urge to cross her arms. “Really?"

Quint nodded. “You believe that a ship could remain in place, become invisible to the naked eye, and not be affected by weaponry. That's magic."

She shook her head. “I didn't say that."

"Then how could those ships become invisible and not deflect a direct shot without the eyewitnesses all over the known universe being wrong?"

"I can think of two ways off the top of my head,” she said. “In the first, the ship absorbs the shot and takes the energy from it, creating the illusion of the shot going through."

"Like it created the illusion of disappearing?” he asked.

"Something like that,” she said. “Or it could go slightly out of phase."

"Out of phase?” he asked.

"Move just a hair into another dimension."

He laughed. “As if that's possible."

"It's more likely than a ship maneuvering the way that the professor describes,” she said. “It's one of the theories of time travel, that people can move out of time for just a moment, and then come back. There've been experiments in a controlled environment that show such a thing is possible."

"And there've been experiments that postulate a drive faster than FTL,” he said. “It's all theory, which goes back to belief, which goes to magic."

"You are stubborn,” she said.

"And so are you,” he said. “Why do you want to prove the professor wrong?"

"Besides the fact that he's a pompous ass?” she asked.

Quint's grin grew. “Besides that, yes."

"Because my maneuver—my magic, if you will—is simpler,” she said.

Quint set his beer down. His smile remained, but changed just a little, as if what she said made him think.

"Simpler?” he asked.

She nodded, then leaned forward. “We're talking about a fleet of vessels so advanced that they've survived away from their home base for centuries. These vessels rebuild on the run, they move from place to place, they're like a living city that's constantly changing. I've lived like that, although not to the same extreme."

Quint leaned forward too. He was closer to her than she expected, which made her breath catch for just a moment. She could feel something between them, something electric.

Something unseen, unmeasured, and untested. Yet she knew it was there—and more than that: she knew that he knew. Without asking. Without confirming. Without precision and rigor, she had certainty.

"To live like that,” she said, surprised that her voice didn't betray her sudden emotion, “you have to be efficient. No movement can be wasted. Every command does double-duty. The ship has to perform at the top of its ability with every single thing it does. And Professor Dane's theory isn't efficient. It might be logical, but in practice, it would use more resources than it would save."

"Even if it saved the ship,” Quint said.

"Especially if it saved the ship,” she said. “That ship is part of the fleet and the fleet is an entity in and of itself. Lose too many ships and there is no fleet. So you must develop some kind of system to save individual ships that is efficient, quick, and easy to execute. Professor Dane's system is none of those things."

"And yours is?” Quint asked.

She shrugged and leaned back, grabbing her mug of beer like a shield. “He's had decades to think about this. I've been working on my theory for two whole days."

Quint stared at her for a long moment, as if he was sizing her up. Then he said, “You do know that there's an entire scientific wing here devoted to recovering lost technologies."

"For science majors,” she said.

"Why aren't you one?” he asked. “You seem to have the interest. You could see if your out-of-phase thing is even possible."

"When I'm a post-doc,” she said.

"What is it Professor Dane says?” Quint asked. “Romans weren't built in a day."

"Rome,” Rosealma said. “He said Rome."

But she wasn't thinking about the ancient saying that Professor Dane had taught them. She was thinking about efficiency and cloaks and cargo ships.

She could study something here that would actually have a use on the
Bounty.
If she could discover how to replicate stealth technology, cargo ships could travel through difficult and dangerous parts of the sector, and deliver goods on the far side of the known universe. It would increase profits and safety all at the same time.

"You hadn't thought of studying science, huh?” Quint asked.

She smiled at him for the very first time—a real smile, not a polite one to get him to leave her alone. “You want me to study magic."

"Hell, yeah,” he said. “Because I believe you're actually onto something, and I'd hate to work on your theory all alone."

Now

Squishy had forgotten that Quint had been there from the beginning. She had forgotten until just now.

Then perhaps it was fitting that he was here on
The Dane,
the ship she named for that incorrect professor to remind herself how often she had been incorrect, despite her arrogance.

Or maybe—like Professor Dane—because of it.

She cleared her throat, set her surgical instruments down, then let her hands hover over them as if she was going to use them as weapons. She didn't glance at
The Dane's
control panels, and she didn't look at exactly where they were going. She didn't want to think about that, at least not yet.

Nor did she want to think about all the implications of this conversation. But she had to think about it.

She couldn't put off thinking about it any longer.

"How do you know that there are some things I don't want to live through?” she asked Quint.

He finally touched his face, his fingers briefly brushing against the cuts. Then he stopped as if he realized he was violating an instruction. Which he was. She had asked him not to touch the wounds, even though she had known that would be hard for him.

"I could say that I know you, Rose. You would have believed that once.” He clenched his hands into fists, then flattened them against his thighs.

The feeling had to have been coming back to his face. But she didn't offer him any more numbing agent. She wanted to wait.

"What do you mean I would have believed that once?” she asked.

He shook his head slightly, not looking at her. “You never really gave me much thought, did you, Rose?"

"You're being elliptical,” she said. “You know I hate that."

And he did know that. He was right: he knew more about her than she knew about him. She hadn't bothered to learn him in the same kind of depth that he had learned her.

She used to attribute that to the fact he wanted the relationship more. But she hadn't learned Turtle well either. Squishy liked people. She liked being around them. But they didn't interest her as much as ideas or science or medicine.

Quint sighed. “I work in Imperial Intelligence, Rose."

She frowned, suddenly feeling confused. “You used to work in military intelligence. Then you moved on. On the station, you were head of security. You told me yourself."

He shook his head ever so slightly. “I didn't tell you that. I implied it. You didn't really care enough to investigate."

He was right: she hadn't cared. She had been more concerned with keeping him away from her than she had been with the intricacies of his job.

"What does that mean, Imperial Intelligence?” she asked. “And how is that different from military intelligence?"

He let out a small sigh. “It's different in degree, Rose. Military intelligence is child's play compared to what I do. I was promoted after you left. I run an entire intelligence division now. I have more information at my fingertips than you could ever imagine."

Her stomach turned, although she wasn't sure why. Something about what he was saying disturbed her, and disturbed her so deeply that she didn't want to look at it closely.

"So what are you doing here with me?” she asked. “How come you're not on one of those ships or contacting the Empire or something?"

"You're my Achilles’ heel, Rose. You know that reference? It's not from Professor Dane's class, but it's from the same department. Lost cultures. Cultures so old we only have stories about them."

"I don't remember the story,” she said, “but I know what the phrase means."

And it frightened her. How could she be his weakness? They hadn't seen each other in decades.

"I should have reported you,” he said softly. “I should have reported you the moment
The Dane
crossed into Enterran territory."

It felt like her heart stopped. Then she realized she had forgotten to take a breath. “What do you mean?"

"Squishy,” he said, standing up. He started to come toward her, then seemed to think the better of it and stopped. “How can you let them call you Squishy? You have a beautiful name. You're a beautiful woman, Rose."

Her hands floated toward the control panel. She was trying to leave, as if she could escape him by hitting some commands on the panel. She couldn't do that. Not without being obvious anyway.

She clasped her hands behind her back. She just didn't want to listen to him. This was the kind of thing that made her uncomfortable, that had always made her uncomfortable.

She raised her gaze to his. He was watching her closely, and she didn't know exactly what he saw. Did he see how uncomfortable she was? Did he see her slow understanding of what he meant?

He knew she had lived outside the Enterran Empire. He knew her nickname. He knew much more about her than she had ever known about him.

"For the first time in your life,” he said, “when you left Vallevu, you didn't leave it entirely. You stayed in touch. You let some people know how you were doing. You didn't say much in the messages, but the messages came from the Nine Planets Alliance."

She gripped the edge of the control panel. Had she made a mistake coming here? Not for herself, but for all the others? For the work she had been doing back at the Nine Planets? Had she let the Empire in when Boss and the team had worked so hard to keep the Empire out?

"Don't worry,” he said, “I couldn't track you inside the Alliance. They have good protections in place."

Her heart started pounding. She had forgotten that he used to do that, answer her questions even when she hadn't spoken them.

"But I have a hunch I know what got you out to the Nine Planets,” he said. “There've been credible rumors that the Nine Planets has made breakthroughs in stealth tech. I know enough about stealth tech to know that the person who understands it best is you."

She almost denied it. She didn't understand it best, not any more. Now there was an entire department of people who worked with the
anacapa
drive, who had worked on it all of their lives, working with knowledge passed down from generations. Now she was behind in her understanding of the technology.

Although not in her understanding of the technology that the Empire was developing. Theirs only opened a small crack in the
anacapa
drive. That's why imperial stealth tech consistently malfunctioned and killed. Because imperial stealth tech tried to harness a burning log with a rope. Sometimes the rope held for just a moment, but eventually it would get burned as well. Everyone who worked in imperial stealth tech believed that the log was the technology. They didn't even see or understand the fire.

"I wanted you back here,” he said, extending his hands. She looked at them, then looked at him, keeping her gaze level, showing as little emotion as she possibly could. He was scaring her. He probably knew how much he was scaring her, and by extending his hands, he tried to calm her.

Slowly, he let his hands drop.

"I wanted you working for us again,” he said. “You know so much and things have gone so wrong."

"You're the one who leaked that information,” she said. Anger she hadn't even realized she was feeling made her voice tremble. “You're the one."

He nodded. “I figured it would bring you back. And it did."

One Year Earlier

Squishy stood in front of the schematics for the small anacapa drive displayed on the table before her. She had her hands clasped behind her back. Six people crowded around her. The room was long and narrow, adjacent to her office, an office she rarely used. Mostly, she was in the various labs, working on a dozen projects.

Once upon a time, she supervised all of the work on the space station, but she couldn't any longer. Too much was being done. So much, in fact, that Boss—or to be more accurate, the Lost Souls Corporation—had recently purchased another space station for different kinds of work. Squishy didn't know what happened at the new place except in theory. Most of the work there was dedicated to historical and anthropological research, as well as ground sciences like geology, things that held no interest for her.

What interested her—what had always interested her—was this technology. More than biology, more than all of the medicine she studied, she wanted to know about
anacapa
drives.

She stood back from the schematics, then ordered up a holographic version. It rose and floated above her. She tapped the screen so that she got a three-dimensional model of the drive. It floated next to the schematics, about the size of her fist, encased in black. She ordered the casing removed and studied the drive.