Ruler of Naught by Sherwood Smith, Dave Trowbridge Page B

ACCELERATING, REENTRY BEGINNING. VISIBLE IN TEN
SECONDS.”
    Anderic tapped at his console. They were at minimum safe
altitude, brushing the fringes of the atmosphere. Held in the grip of the
docking tractor, the ejected furniture, mixed with ingots of various alloys
he’d requisitioned through Barrodagh—“A show to firmly establish my control,”
he’d explained—was now rushing ahead of the ship, deeper into the atmosphere.
If the control of the logos was accurate, the debris should start to flame just
as it became visible beyond the accelerator tube.
    “THREE, TWO, ONE... ”
    “Now,” said Anderic.
    A spray of polychrome splendor blossomed just beyond the end
of the accelerator tube, flares and streams of light exploding as the various
elements flamed into glory against the upper airs of Arthelion. The display
pulsed magnificently against the night side of the planet, evoking an
inhalation of delight from Luri.
    “Oh, Pham, it’s beautiful.”
    Unable to wait any longer, Anderic pulled Luri against him
and kissed her deeply. Then he stood up and carried her off the bridge, bound
for the cabin he’d carefully prepared for them.
    o0o
    The commands of the Anderic-biont, to whom the logos now
owed allegiance, took but a fraction of its node-time. As was its nature, it
did not question the change in its programming, and indeed, the changes did not
go deep. Its primary goals lay beneath, untouched, and now its consciousness
flashed throughout the ship that was its body, seeking the Tallis-biont that
might yet be key to fulfilling its primary purpose.
    Microseconds later the logos found the former captain of the Satansclaw , staring at a viewscreen deep within the ship. Moisture was
leaking from the biont’s remaining image receptor, and its physiological
parameters were confusing, as though it were preparing to fight, or flee.
Confused by the conflicting emanations from the Tallis-biont, the executive
invoked the subjective mode, and for the second time awoke the god from his
dreams.
    o0o
    Ruonn tar Hyarmendil, fifth eidolon of the fleshly Ruonn,
cybernetic exile within the logos he himself had programmed, rolled over in his
opulent bed as a quiet tone sounded within the seraglio. The two houris moaned
with disappointment, but he pushed them aside as a projection appeared above
him. The apologetic face of his vizier appeared.
    “The Great Slave desires an interview with the god.”
    Moments later the knowledge of his true condition came back
to him, and he sprang out of the bed. An unfamiliar, almost painful weight
between his legs drew his eyes downward, and he stared pop-eyed at his manhood,
enormous beyond his wildest dreams in the rapture tanks at home. A dizzying
sense of unreality assailed him, but he asserted himself and willed himself
into congruence with the ship—he would deal with the sexual programming problem
later.
    Slowly the Satansclaw fitted itself around him,
filling out his senses with perceptions that no biological human would ever
experience. He could feel the engines, the pulse of vital air and water through
the fabric of the ship, the tingling discharge of electrical power and data
permeating every centimeter of circuitry. But there was something strange about
the feeling, almost something missing, and when he reached out for
understanding his mind slid away from him until he returned to the task at hand.
    “THE PARAMETERS OF THE TALLIS-BIONT ARE CONTRADICTORY.
ADVISE BEST TECHNIQUE FOR CONDITIONING.”
    Ruonn accessed the memory nodes. Not surprising. Tallis had
lost control, and the Ozmiront had taken over. What did surprise him was that
Anderic had activated the logos. Would it be possible to work with him?
    No matter, he decided, it would still be best to try to
program Tallis for more cooperation, holding open the possibility of eventually
restoring him to command and guaranteeing a return to Barca laden with data for
the Matria, and reunification with his archetype. With Tallis