Empery by Michael P. Kube-McDowell Read Free Book Online Page B

of my life, a high, clear note of joy.
    Gabriel gave us life, knowledge, and identity, perhaps at the cost of his own. And I, our feeble ambassador, was able to give him nothing in return…
    Wells had been searching for what had been overlooked, not hidden. None of the memory aids used in Thackery’s debriefing could make a man say what he did not want to say. It was assumed throughout that Thackery was a willing subject, eager to share everything that he knew.
    But was that true?
    A dark suspicion was forming in Wells’s mind, a slippery, shadowy thought that resisted his efforts to dislodge it. Where were your loyalties, Thackery? What didn’t you tell us? Perhaps that you could call Gabriel at will? Did you think to protect him from further demands, or perhaps insure that no one would intrude on that most perfect relationship with that most empathic mind?
    It was a shocking, almost treasonous thought—that Merritt Thackery, the most outstanding figure in Service history, the architect of the Revision, had been compromised by divided loyalties, had held back information because of the bond he felt with an alien being.
    A radical thought, indeed. But as Wells lay in the darkness and reflected, it was a thought he could not stop thinking.
    Wells’s presence in the suite at seven in the morning surprised Farlad. “You’re in early, sir.“Weary enough to find that observation funny, Wells chuckled deep in his throat. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
    “Have you been up all night?”
    “I have.”
    Farlad’s gaze narrowed in concern. “Are you going to be all right for the Committee meeting this morning?”
    Wells laughed. “I haven’t required more than five hours of sleep a night for more than twenty years. It’d be a sad commentary on my fitness if I couldn’t go without even that for a day.”
    “Yes, sir.” Farlad hesitated, then went on. “If you’re ready to hear it, I have a little more data on that communications problem. It seems that, quite unknown to anyone outside Operations, the quality of our Kleine transmissions has been steadily deteriorating—enough so that they’ve had to reduce the standard rate of transmission three times in the last six years. I’ve asked the supervisor of communications to come in and give you a full briefing.”
    “Do they have any idea what’s causing it?”
    “No—only that they’re now confident that it isn’t a hardware problem.”
    “Meaning that it’s something happening between the transmitter and the receiver.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “But the signal is piped directly through the spindle. The interference would have to originate there.”
    “Supervisor Ruiz believes it’s related directly to the sheer volume of traffic—that we’re approaching the carrying capacity of the system. There’s a good correlation between the degree of interference and the level of traffic in a particular octant.”
    Wells shook his head. “Unless he can support his belief with more than a correlation, we’re obliged to take a darker view of this business—officially, at least.”
    “Are you suggesting that the Mizari could be responsible?”
    “They could be,” he said, steepling his fingers and touching them to his chin. “Perhaps they’ve learned how to access the spindle or how to project some instrumentality there.” He paused, his expression thoughtful. “There’s also the possibility it may be the D’shanna.”
    “Trying to communicate? Or trying to cut off our communications?”
    “It doesn’t have to be either. It could be a meaningless consequence of their normal activity. It doesn’t matter. What would matter is if they’re there—if they’ve taken note of us or could be made to take an interest. We could use an ally, Teo—someone who can get us the information we need without alerting or alarming the Mizari.”
    “The D’shanna certainly could do that. But why would they? According to Thackery—”
    “I am not sure we can trust