Betrayals

By Steve Bowers

Life in the artificial colonies of Beta Sagittarius is comfortable and safe; so why is someone trying to kill the Blessed Dolphin? Why are scout ships searching the massive Oort cloud? And where does Auguste Gienah fit into it all?

Wherever the investigation scratches away the surface, there is revealed a tangled web of lies and Betrayals...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Orion's Arm Universe Project
• Release date: Mar 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476409887

Steve Bowers

...a spacemad, madman who lives in York, England with his wife and two kids, both nearly grown now. He has read too much science fiction already, but the kind of plausible, hard SF he prefers is hard to find. So in 2002 he joined the Orion’s Arm Universe Project (which had already been going for a couple of years) and now he writes his own. He is an incorrigible sceptic who would believe anything, given half a chance.

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Betrayals

Steve Bowers

Published by The Orion’s Arm Universe Project, Inc. at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Steve Bowers

Discover other titles by Steve Bowers at Smashwords.com

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Table of Contents

Zero Minus Two Days

Zero

Zero Minus Seventy-Five Years

Zero Minus Eighty-One Years

Zero Minus One Hundred Fifty-Nine Years

Zero Minus Two Hundred-Eleven Years

Zero Minus Two Hundred Twenty-Three Years

Zero Plus Nine Hours

Zero Minus Four Hundred Thirty-Three Years

Zero Plus Ten Hours

Zero Plus Ten Hours (subjective time = 10^3 normal)

Zero Minus Four Hundred Thirty-Three Years (2)

Zero Plus Eleven Hours

Zero Plus Eleven Hours (subjective time = 10^3 normal)

Zero Minus Four Hundred Thirty-Three Years (3)

Zero Plus Fourteen Hours (subjective time = 10^3 normal)

Zero Minus Four Hundred Thirty-Three Years (4)

Zero Plus Fourteen Hours (subjective time = 10^3 normal) (2)

Zero Minus Four Hundred Thirty-Three Years (5)

Zero Minus Four Hundred Thirty-Three Years (6)

Zero Plus Four Days (subjective time = 10^3 normal)

Zero Plus Four Days (subjective time normal)

Zero Minus Four Hundred Thirty-Three Years (7)

Zero Plus Four Days

Zero Plus Four Days (2)

Zero Plus Four Days (3)

Zero Plus Four Days (4)

Zero Plus Seventeen Years

Zero Plus Seventy-Nine Years

Zero Plus Eighty-Two Years

Zero Plus Eighty-Five Years

Chronology

Some Terms Used in the Orion Arm Civilisation

About the Author

About the Orion’s Arm Universe Project

Zero Minus Two Days

Three nights before the ascension they held a party.

Auguste could not remember it very well; he had been saying his goodbyes to his symaiote, and they had both been drunk. Now he was sober, thanks to the instant cure he had taken in lieu of breakfast; but something else had been going on. Something between Lesova and the multibodied freak. And what was worse, that self same freak was coming with them, to the centre of the world, far above their heads.

But first they all had to go through the wall of the world, and into the waiting shuttlecraft. Eighty or more souls were soon on board the Geographer Cone, all hopeful Acolytes for Ascension, including Auguste Gienah, Lesova Zubenelshamali, and the multiple-bodied SDiavid Slarian.

Gus Gienah was feeling that he had been human long enough, and he suspected Lesova thought that he had been too. He was six hundred and seventy three standard years old. She was his current long-term dyad partner, and seated herself beside him as they secured themselves for take-off.

Well, you knew very well Slarian was going to the Lamp, too. All that sort of thing won't be important after It happens, you know, she said, not too loudly, but with some emotion.

Outside the wall of the world there was a long, long drop.

Down there were the rest of the stars of the galaxy, and all anybody had to do was let go, and sooner or later they would get there. Today, however, the small shuttlecraft Geographer Cone was going upwards to the overhead Lamp, and the passengers on board, in a manner of speaking, were set on ascending even higher. Despite the fact that the Lamp was as high as they could get in the physical world (as it was constructed), they were each hoping to pass into an elevated realm of mentality, together and separately.

Some eagerly awaited it, some were apprehensive and some sought refuge from lives that never seemed to bring fulfilment.

The shuttlecraft moved up the magnetic track, set into the side of the atmosphere wall, ready to be flung towards the central Lamp of the huge two thousand kilometre diameter habitat known as Rendell Ring. This habitat rotated to provide artificial gravity, and to stop the atmosphere from escaping over the top of the wall. From further away, it could be seen to be one of two hundred and thirteen similar, but by no means identical Rings, joined by a tiny, almost invisible string; the Cable Railway. The whole structure was collectively known as the Arkab Prior B Necklace in the Sagittarius sector; further out could be seen the beginnings of a new necklace, tiny sparks of light at this distance.

SDiavid Slarian; all ten of him, was seated in different spots all round the comfortable cabin. Slarian was a multi, a composite individual made up of ten bodies, some coloured pink, some blue, but all sharing a single consciousness. The idea was that they would be ten times as intelligent as a single human being. Gus thought they were easily ten times as stupid as well.

Which one was it? They all look the same to me, said Gus.

Beneath his frosted transparent jacket his variable skin tattoos were displaying lines of marching cartoon savages, armed with machetes.

Well, they are all the same- she said, shortly. Oh, by Binah, I don't know, one of the blue ones. I thought we agreed it doesn't count with robots.

Lesova's skin tattoos currently depicted stylised thorns and flowers slowly moving in the wind. To Gus it looked like the petals were constantly becoming detached and blown away, but it was hard to tell beneath her translucent shirt. Sometimes the pictograms they both wore could convey subtle clues to the state of mind they were in, as the tattoos were only under semi-conscious control.

He willed his own tattoos to show a neutral set of non-sentient advertisements and pop-ups.

<'For soma or aesthesia-

Best try Tergrer!

GUARANTEED AUTHENTIC

Metaqualia'>

This skinvertising brought in a small amount of revenue for Auguste, and helped him top up the civilised-living-allowance every full citizen of the Mutual Progress Association received. In an advanced society like the MPA, with artificial intelligences regulating the economy and throughput of energy, it was difficult to find high-stress, cutting edge employment for most citizens. To find that they would need to emigrate to the edge of Explored Space, and become colonist pioneers, with all the real risks that entailed. Gus had taken many calculated risks in his time but he had rarely been in danger of a final and irrevocable death.

Anyway, I seem to remember you going on about when you slept with a multi yourself, and how good it was, Lesova continued.

Gus swung his head round, to see if any of Slarian was looking at them. Sure enough, the furthest one, sitting at the back, swiftly looked away, but Gus was sure there was another one watching now.

Damn- he's got twenty eyes, and my brushvec is on vacation, he thought.

That was nearly thirty tenyears ago, and besides that was when I was a woman.

If he had had his trusty brushvec with him, Gus could have asked the bot to monitor all the damn multis at once. Not that it would do him any good - Slarian was just having a bit of fun, while Lesova seemed to think little of it. Only Gus was taking it seriously.

The shuttle left the curved maglev track up the wall of the world and shot into a transfer orbit towards the central Lamp. Suddenly they were in freefall.

It's seven tenyears since I’ve been with anybody else, you know, he said, as he unsealed his seat restraints and gently floated into the air.

Not counting virches and erobots, of course. She remained seated, still sealed tight. It’s not that long since you disappeared off into a virch for twenty subjective years, I waited three days for you to come out.

Virtual reality scenarios were a common form of entertainment, an educational tool, and useful for a wide range of experimental work. Usually a virch was a fully convincing evocation of an imaginary environment, which could run much faster than real life, but there were many different kinds.

Ah. I see. That was what this was all about- you couldn't stand me having fun.ﾝ Gus paused for a long time, then said. Well, let me tell you, being inside a virtual alien body for twenty years (subjective or not) isn't the quite same as going off with other humans.

A sudden gleam of sunlight came through the virtual window strip that girdled the passenger lounge, as Arkab Prior B, the local sun, peeped over the curve of the vast habitat ring. It illuminated the lounge and the occupants: apart from the ten oversexed multis, the shuttle carried half a dozen other tattooed Scrabo folk like Lesova and Auguste, thirty or so dwarfish Methuselahs, and in adapted seats three Goliath people and a moose-splice. Most of the people Gus could see were at least partly human, although none seemed to be unmodified.

A typical cross-section of modosophont humanity.

With luck, most of them would put that behind them before they left the Lamp. Every passenger wore the silver cap of the Prepared-For-Ascension acolyte.

I know you mated with those To'ul'h whelk-things while you were in there, said Lesova.

Gus spluttered, It's not like with humans, you know, you have to bite your way through the skin-

Spare me- she said, and turned to smile warmly at the closest Slarian clone, who smoothly glided in the microgravity towards them.

Gus's heart sank.

The pink dividual grinned at Lesova, then at Gus.

Hey! How's ya doin, hu! Slarian drawled. You the guy who was crying over your robot last night, eh? Another dividual was talking simultaneously to Lesova now, a blue one.

Gus was trying to watch them and talk to the pink instance at the same time; this was not an easy task. Yes, I suppose it was; we’ve been associates for about five hundred years.

Heh, and the little bastard don't want to ascend with you, won't go into the unknown with his symbiote, eh? said the pink Slarian. The blue one and Lesova had their heads together, laughing, now.

Gus gritted his teeth. Well, Max is a free agent; he says he will think about it, depending how well it suits me. How well it suits me and Lesova.

Nice woman, that. She's a free agent too, of course, eh, hu, a free radical, free as a bird, eh, hu, know what I mean, eh. These multis were notorious for repeating things in a most irksome manner.

So I take it she has been getting friendly with one of your robot - er - instances, is that right, Slarian? Gus's tattoos were tiny black and red daggers; he had always had trouble concealing his feelings, and now he wasn't trying. We kinda decided long ago that robots don't count — well, not as much anyway.

Heh, y'see, a lot of women make that mistake; my robots are just as much a part of me as my human bodies, just as connected, y'see; and as Slarian said that he tapped the blue instance on the shoulder, and they swapped places; now Gus was talking to the blue dividual, and Lesova was talking to the pink human one.

- all my bodies have one mind, said the blue robot in exactly the same voice. We only have one consciousness, so you can't get friendly with one of us without all the others knowing all about it, eh, tattoo man. The pink and blue copies swung round again, a graceful manoeuvre in zero gee; now the pink one said Pity you weren't as close to your little robot chum; he might not have skedaddled so quick when you decided to ascend.

You never know, said Gus, who abruptly kicked away towards his seat and secured himself again, his tattoos showing angry red and black patterns all over his skin. Eventually Lesova sat down next to him, but he did not acknowledge her.

There were several stocky Penglaiese hi-gravity humans in the ascension party; most were deeply immersed in virtual entertainment via their Direct Neural Interface implants, but one was acting as a lookout, keeping an eye on the real world and the other passengers, and monitoring the best of the communications channels for news. Like a watch-bird in a flock of geese, she was ready to sound the alarm if anything important happened.

Right then she spoke aloud in a gravely voice, -Tsien preserve us, look at e-Channel 675!

Most of the passengers, hearing the alarm call of the Penglaiese watchperson, tuned into that channel and stared into space as the news displayed in their inner vision. Slarian continued mostly as before, needing only one of his instances to monitor the e-news.

Gus found e-Channel 657, but it was a programme about potted semi-sentient plants. Finally he found the right one.

~******Today an unexpected attack on the Keterist Ascension Crusade Headquarters at Rendell Habitat Luminaire Centre was foiled by the Mutual Progress seraphim in conjunction with Prior A Negentropist Bailiffs. Activated cryptonaughts were accompanied by chemocracker weapons, in a simultaneous attack that left seven transingularity beings subverted, and two inactive, presumed dead. The cryptonaught attackers have self-erased without trace, and the three nearbaseline humans infected with the chemocracker weapons are believed to be beyond memory scan.

******A spokesbeing said that the presumed target of the attack, the Blessed Fluke Chwrrii Nashira, was unharmed, while the subverted Crusaders have been neutralised and a full recovery is anticipated. Meanwhile the mass ascension planned for later this ten-day would go ahead. ~~~

The passenger cabin erupted into chaos, with most of the dwarfs grouping together in a globular cluster of short bodies, dozens of legs pointing outwards. Some skinny New Martian types were simply staring at each other, obviously communicating via the local net, while the illustrated Scrabos were shouting and texting on their bodies at the same time. Gus found himself dumbly allowing the text of the news item to scroll in a spiral around his body, while Lesova grabbed his arm, seeming to forget their recent differences.

WELL, WE - SDiavid Slarian said loudly, with all of his ten mouths at once. He grinned at everyone broadly. Sorry, everybody, we'll start again, he said (now using just two). That's made our mind up. We're not going anywhere near the Keterists, not if they have been subverted. We could all end up as some kind of Cyberian joke, barking like seals or something.

Corrupt my Backup! He's talking out of his ten arses, said Gus to Lesova. The Cyberians never kill any one- and they don't have any quarrel with the Crusaders, it's just Negentropists they hate.

The Cyberians- no, you’re right, it can't be them, it will be the Ordinaries or the Dispatchers again, Lesova said.

For thousands of years the same excruciating guessing game had been going on after every act of terrorism- was it this or that faction, or is it some new pretender or even secret agents of the state?

You'd think- oh, I don't know--

Yes, Lesova, it's all right, don't worry, this sort of thing happens all the time. The Keterists can handle it. Child's play.

In seventy years together they had not had any children. Apart from the fact that they were drifting apart, in the same way that two bits of wood on separate oceans were drifting apart, this was another motive for joining the mass ascension.

All the Slarian dividuals removed their silver skullcaps in one movement. Soon as I get to the lamp, I'm going to the Luminaire Hotel Bar and getting completely unnecessary. Who's coming with me? said three of him in unison.

Half the Scrabo contingent and all the New Martians yelled their agreement, but the shortest and stoutest of the dwarfs elbowed his way forward and said in a deep voice- We are not fainthearted- By Sesha, we mean to see this through! Towards Ascension!

What are you going to do, Gus? whispered Lesova.

Do you mean you care?

I'd like to know. Forget all that stuff at the party; I want to do the ascension thing now. Are you coming with me or not?

Gus's tattoos turned pale blue. He looked old.

All my life, what I can remember of it anyway, I've been plagued by these gods and demons and powers, there's always some little godling meddling with my world and turning it crazy. Now I've got a chance to join them and get some meddling done myself. Entropy take me, but the gods and subversives are ganging up on me again to stop it happening.

That's modo thinking, modosophont, you know that. We have had months of preparation for this, and it's all falling apart like a melting comet.

If any one of this lot go through with it- he indicated the travellers filling the cabin at all angles in the microgravity, dwarfs, Goliaths, and thick-set Penglaiese, just one of them, so am I. Whatever happens.

Lesova gripped his shoulder.

I’m sure I am too. Everything to gain, and nothing particular to lose. I mean, look at that idiot of a multi. It would be nice to get away from that.

The ten pink and blue dividuals had already started drinking and partying hard.

OOOO

Zero

(Extract from Encyclopaedia Galactica Human (Anglic) Revised 2990th edition)

Ascension (n), to ascend (v) the act of ascension - transition by an entity from any particular mental or toposophic level to a higher level which was incomprehensible to that entity before the ascension. Unlike augmentation, ascension involves crossing one or more singularity barriers.

(n) An ascension: the location of a famous (mass) ascension such as that of The Church of the Eye, Tahoma Prime, Cygnus.

Mass ascension: a group of entities ascending together, sometimes a dozen or so, sometimes entire worlds. Often guided by Keterist evangelists or the equivalent.

In the event only two hundred of the planned thousand Acolytes volunteered to continue with the mass ascension. Wearing their silver skullcaps these few hopefuls, including Auguste and Lesova, moved in procession toward the massive drum shaped assembly hall in the centre of the Lamp. Gus felt like he was balanced on the tip of a huge precipice, and the ground he was standing on was his accumulated experience and all his life's tribulations made solid.

In fact he couldn't remember most of the bad, or even the mediocre things in his lifetime; he simply didn't have the memory capacity in his own head. Every couple of years he would have his memories sorted and filed by the Arkab data storage library; if he needed to remember anything from the filed memories he had to apply to the powers-that-be to get them back.

Dammit, that was his life stored in those data banks; his old memories might have been boring, but they were him.

How are you feeling? Lesova asked him.

He looked at her. Even after seventy years he didn't know her very well. She had always been private, confidential.

Why?

I just thought you looked — unhappy. Like you were going to change your mind. Again.

No. I mean yes. I am going to change my mind alright; that’s the whole object of the exercise, isn't it. Isn't it? Soon as I've gotten ascended I'm going to march into the Library and get all my memories back.

They say your priorities change, when it Happens, don't forget.

Lesova stared ahead into the vast hall. Two massive Zennorian mermen framed the doorway, holding swordguns as long as themselves. I hope those are just for show, she said lightly.

Gus realised he still had no idea why she wanted to go through with this; he didn't understand her at all. Perhaps afterward he would understand; perhaps it would no longer be important. After all, they were only ascending one level, to become the lowest transapients; there were another five levels above that, with the great star-spanning Archailects at the very top. He had never seen or spoken to any of the greatest gods, and he was sure they were far beyond his understanding. But even a first level transapient was inscrutable to anyone on his level. Each level was beyond the ken of all those below; by ascending, Gus would become someone (or something) he could not now understand.

His head was spinning.

They entered the blue-lit hall, a vast public space at the centre of the Luminaire, the giant lamp which gave light to Rendell Ring. Having no spin the Lamp, the Lamp Station Hotel and Rendell Cable Station were all in zero gravity.

The sunlight from Arkab Prior B never shone on the landscape inside the ring, because of the angle of rotation; for one thing the light was rather rich in ultra-violet and would have been painful to look at (for even a second) without specially adapted eyes. Some decades before, Gus had once been the proud owner of such adapted eyes; they were fine until the warranty ran out, then they stopped working almost immediately.

No surprises there.

Gus, Lesova and the other Acolytes moved through the air guided by invisible fog, which tugged them towards the golden figure gleaming in the centre of the hall. When they were distributed evenly around Her, the transingular su-dolphin, the Golden Fluke, the Blessed Chwrrii Nashira, Ascension Crusader of the Keter Dominion, welcomed them, and began to vocalise.

The golden dolphin had a high, thin, distant voice, reciting strange poetry that was somehow integrated into the ascension process. Entirely incomprehensible to an ordinary human, this poetry would act as a key to unlock the subconscious thought processes of each acolyte, opening them up to the godtech in the silver caps they wore. Soon the acolytes would exist mostly in cyberspace, and would hardly need their old bodies at all.

As the Blessed Crusader sang, She danced, swimming in the invisible utility fog that filled the hall and allowed the Blessed Chwrrii Nashira to move as if she were swimming in salt water-

Auguste was even aware of a faint briny tang. Every cubic centimetre of the hall was filled with the sentient, pliable, transparent fluid; even the lungs of the acolytes. No harm could befall them now.

Lesova glanced at Gus, and breathed deeply.

"Had we but enough of that which passes

and wherewith to dwell,

this, your action of denial

would not be as wrong-¦"

The golden dolphin swooped, dived, pirouetted, shimmied backwards.

The blue light of the hall dimmed, and soon only vague glints of light from the swordguns of the mermen could be seen.

"as