Ragamuffin (7 page)

“Magnify that,” Etsudo ordered. A bald acolyte near the periphery of the semicircular room, his crimson robes hanging in the air around him, spun dials until the window in front of Etsudo visibly flexed. Its width and curvature changed, and the great globes of the destroyed habitat jumped into focus. Etsudo watched as they split apart in a fiery mass of debris.

The men beside him watched from the curved windows and safety of the five-mile-long Hongguo flagship
Gulong
. They shook their heads.

“A waste,” one whispered. “They were warned.”

A thousand had refused to hand themselves over to the Hongguo for reconditioning. Just a handful, really, of the millions scattered throughout habitats and some of the forty-eight worlds of the Benevolent Satrapy. But still . . . Etsudo swallowed. He’d come to this habitat once three years ago. They talked freely to him about building artificial intelligences, and Etsudo had done his best to buy their patents to do nothing with. He’d even used shell companies to hire their best neuroprogrammers away. It hadn’t been enough to stop this.

A losing battle. So often, despite his best efforts.

One of the Jiang shifted closer to him. Deng. Always following behind Etsudo to suppress that which Etsudo failed to keep in check. Like today.

“They knew their options.” Jiang Deng folded his arms.

“Memory wipes and servitude to us, or death.” Etsudo shook his head.

“Artificial intelligence is an illegal technological path. You sympathize with them?” Deng’s eyes narrowed in on Etsudo. The other Jiang, the generals of the Hongguo, looked over.

“It’s my job,” Etsudo said, looking at the debris. He used nondestructive means to control illegal technologies. Deng used destructive ones.

“You are passing some sort of judgment on me?”

“No.” Etsudo looked back at the eleven Jiang who hung in the air around
him. They wore tightly fitted ceramic body armor, many of them with the long-tailed-dragon sigil originally used by the Hongguo founders. “The Satrapy doesn’t stand certain technology. We keep emancipation alive. We’re all free as long as Hongguo are around to keep research carefully directed.” The words were rote and etched in his memory. And too true.

“Indeed,” Jiang Deng said. Etsudo, looking to avoid conflict, stared back out toward the destroyed habitat. Behind the debris the orange orb of the planet Dragin stared back at Etsudo, reproaching him, he imagined. The windows closed. Five-inch-thick blast doors slid down as the debris field from what had once been the habitat Dragin-Above, home to five thousand families, pattered against the thick hull of the
Gulong
.

Maybe humans would orbit the planet Dragin again in a few decades, Etsudo thought as he turned away from the control center and followed the Jiang out toward the docking bays to return to their respective ships.

“We have someone new for your crew,” Jiang Deng told him as everyone coasted along one of the corridors of the
Gulong
. “We’re beginning something new. The Satrapy needs us, Etsudo. Do you understand?”

Etsudo did. They didn’t trust him any longer. Now they would be appointing a second captain to ride along with Etsudo. He’d been expecting this for several years now. “This new crew, he’ll split the captainship with me, won’t he?”

“Yes,” Deng said. “The Satrapy is sending us out with new tasks, new missions. Brandon will be there to help you during this transition. We’ll be stepping up our enforcement activity.”

They would say handling a whole ship on his own for so long was too much. It would be for Etsudo’s own benefit to share the burden. It would be a polite farce.

Etsudo knew there used to be more Hongguo ships with the same charter as his. Trading ships. All disguised suppressors of advanced technology. All endowed with massive budgets, seeking to keep things in check.

Now he was one of a handful. Transition indeed. He was being phased out.

He didn’t dare question it. Some tradition, a momentum, that kept him in his place as the captain and ruler of the
Takara Bune
. Etsudo did not want to lose that.

“This is Brandon Saxwere.” Jiang Deng introduced him to a tall man with a shaved scalp, green eyes, and pinched face. Brandon waited politely by a
crux in one of the corridors, obviously expecting them. He wore a simple gray robe, the fringe clipped to his ankles for zero gravity.

“Good to meet you.” Brandon smiled a warm, honest smile and Etsudo hated him.

Etsudo snagged the railing to come to a stop and bowed his head. “And you.”

This was the beginning of the end of his life. He should have felt more anger about it. Etsudo turned to one of the windows along the corridor and looked into a vast cavern. The walls teemed with an orderly nest of people. All with shaved heads, blank eyes, and wearing crimson paper robes carefully clipped to their ankles as well. They sat at rows of plastic desks, strapped in with acceleration webbing.

Each one worked on a small calculation using an abacus on the desk in front of them. The result was passed on to a station in the next concentric ring, or if the instructions on the card passed to them dictated, to one of their sides. Waves of human-computed math rolled up and down the sides of the massive ball of humanity. And Etsudo could see through spokes into smaller and smaller spheres of humanity, all the way to the center of the sphere where the central controllers sat, staring outward at their machine.

No computer virus would ever take this ship. Only slide rules and abacus could compute orbits, or calculate the speed of the
Gulong
, or position the slender needle of the ship’s nose into the heart of a wormhole to destroy it. A gift from the Satrapy after it was used to cut Earth away from the wormhole network, to keep the rest of the race in check.

When Etsudo looked back from the human computers, Jiang Deng excused himself. “I must head to the Stage Two briefing.”

“Stage Two?” Etsudo had heard nothing of a briefing, or of a second component to the shutdown of Dragin-Above.

“It’s a military operation.” Deng smiled. “Destruction-oriented, not of interest to you.”

He left. Brandon hovered in the air and looked in at the chamber of human calculators.

“It’s a test chamber for the Dragin-Above refugees.” Brandon said. “The main processing chamber for the
Gulong
is closer to the heart of the ship. They’re just checking here to make sure the reconditioning is holding and that the new training is working.”

“We’re not tools,” Etsudo muttered. “We’re not just things to be used.
We’re unique creatures, thinkers, inventors, believers. When we stop remembering
that
, we are no longer human, are we?”

“Better than death.” Brandon bowed his head as he said this.

“Are you sure about that? What is
your
last memory?”

“I’m as mentally pure as you.” Brandon folded his arms. “And what is your critique? The crew of the
Takara Bune
are reconditioned, aren’t they? Don’t they serve you well enough?”

They served Etsudo well. But not because he allowed Hongguo to recondition their minds. Etsudo changed the topic. “Why are you really coming aboard my ship?”

“You’ve held your own ship together long enough. I’m your second-shift captain, your night captain.” Brandon raised his hands. “I don’t know how you’ve managed alone with just a reconditioned crew for so long.”

Maybe Brandon was really coming to help, and not to take over Etsudo’s ship. But Etsudo doubted it.

On the shuttle ride back to the
Takara Bune
Etsudo leaned over to Brandon. “You question my ability to run my ship, which I have done smoothly for years. There are nine crew aboard my ship and one captain. How exactly do you fit into this?”

Brandon did not reply. He stared straight ahead.

Etsudo knew about men who didn’t need to prove themselves. They were dangerous. As the long seconds dragged on he watched the foot straps, lost in thought, until the shuttle jerked to a stop.

Once it shuddered rudely into place by docking collar, Etsudo pulled his feet free. Brandon floated first through the air lock and Etsudo closed his eyes. Through the
Takara Bune
’s lamina he accessed the scanning equipment built into the walls of the air lock.

As the air pressure equalized, they both hung in place. And Etsudo scanned Brandon inch by inch. He found the man laced with machinery, no doubt to broadcast back to Jiang Deng everything they said. Brandon was feng, ready to be unleashed on Etsudo the moment Jiang Deng had an excuse.

Etsudo looked up as the door into the
Takara Bune
rolled open. No one waited for them. The alpha crew remained on shift in the cockpit, magnetic and physical locks in place to slow down any forced entry as Etsudo had ordered before leaving the ship. Gamma and zeta crew remained locked in their quarters, waiting for the all clear.

“I apologize. You know I’m related to the founders of the Hongguo.” Etsudo rolled his sleeve up and showed Brandon the dragon tattooed on his bicep. Much like the sigil the Jiang wore on their ceramic armor. “When you get settled in, come find me in the captain’s room. I want to show you something. A piece of their legacy. Maybe then you’ll understand my reluctance to give up all the years of history my family has within ships like the
Takara Bune
, and why I’m so testy right now.”

Brandon nodded. Etsudo left him by the dull metal doors of the air lock. He needed to prepare for what came next. Burning through people’s minds, re-creating them into a new image, it took time, calibration, and special equipment.

All of which Etsudo had in his cabin. All of which was completely illegal by decree of the Satrapy.

But first, a hard burn out away from the ruins of this habitat and upstream toward more heavily populated systems. Up away from Deng and his heavily armed ship, the
Shengfen Hao
. Back to his own devices. Etsudo relaxed and accessed the ship’s lamina, sliding into the world of data sitting all around him. “Sabir?”

“Listening,” the alpha crew’s pilot responded.

“Upstream to Thule via Tsushima. Get updated traffic maps for Pawtucket, Gateshead, and Trinity.” At Thule he’d have the option to go to one of three forks. All three had enough human population density for him to justify a search for illegal technology.

“Crew change is coming up in fifteen minutes,” Sabir’s voice whispered in Etsudo’s ear. “Should we remain in the cockpit?”

“Yes. Stay put until Brandon enters my room. Then change shift. But remain locked down after shift change. This man could be dangerous. Now, get the ship moving.” The longer he remained near the elite of the Hongguo, the more nervous he got.

“Of course.”

Warning lights flipped on, turning the interior of the ship dark red. The
Takara Bune
accelerated as Etsudo fled his fellow Hongguo.

The door to Etsudo’s cabin rolled aside. Etsudo brushed past a pair of tortured bamboo plants running along the room’s midrail, his fingers brushing green shoots as he pulled himself over to Brandon. The
Takara Bune
coasted now, not too far from Tsushima with the better part of a day already gone.

“Come.” Etsudo waved the man in.

Brandon took in the red-cushioned room, looking briefly at the comfortable half sphere of Etsudo’s couch, the tatami stapled to the walls, and several sparse paintings of Earth landscapes. Waterfalls, ponds.

“You really want to talk about your family, or something else?”

“My will won’t stand long against all the Jiang of the Hongguo. I have no choice but to let you into the ship, and to give your reports back, and to do what is asked of me. But, look, come closer and you’ll understand my own pridefulness.” Etsudo pointed out a small printed picture, framed by a brassy-looking wood. “Read the plaque.”

Brandon floated two feet away from the picture. The fathers of the Hongguo: Hajiwara, Nakamoto, and Singh.

“That was my great-grandfather.” Etsudo hung by Brandon’s elbow. As he continued, he closed his eyes, accessed his ship’s lamina, and gave a simple command to the machinery behind the picture’s façade. “The only reason Jiang like Deng haven’t made me disappear yet. There are those who would notice one of the sole family members of the founding fathers gone missing.”

Brandon didn’t reply; he hung motionless in the air. A short pulse of energy had scrambled his synapses and knocked him out.

“They’re such proud, fine men,” Etsudo said. “It’s a shame I was adopted and couldn’t really care less about blood.” He spun Brandon around. The man’s face hung slack.

The Jiang would disapprove of this piece of illegal technology housed behind that frame. As well as all the other equipment Etsudo kept throughout the walls of his cabin. He was a good candidate for reconditioning, or execution.

But this was
his
ship. The Jiang could go to hell. Etsudo moved Brandon to the couch and strapped him in. Then he folded his legs and hung before Brandon as he waited for the man to wake up.

When he did, he struggled to free himself. Etsudo shook his head. “Don’t do that, I’d hate to see physical harm come into this equation.”

Brandon’s green eyes pinned Etsudo in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Deng will flay you for insubordination.”

“That’s interesting. Because he’s technically not my superior, is he? The trade arm of the Hongguo is charged to eradicate illegal technologies through nonlethal methods. We’re a separate and equal arm.”

“If your means are nonlethal, what is this about?”

“Have I hurt you yet?” Etsudo asked. “Are you in pain?”

“You threatened me with physical harm.” Brandon twisted, but there had been stronger, faster, more dangerous men in that chair before.

“The silky cords wrapped around your arms have a monofilament wire in their center. Break the silk and you’ll slice your hands off. If you continue to struggle or get more agitated, you will be responsible for your own self-amputation.”

Brandon stopped straining. He stared at Etsudo, who experienced a brief rush. The power of direct force. A heady drug, and addictive. “What do you want?”