But What Will The Gods Eat Tomorrow?

It’s not your place to question the decisions of High Command."

"I don’t question them," I mumbled, wondering when I turned suicidal. "I know they’re stupid."

"What was that?" Dawson demanded, and I was suddenly quite thankful for the old man’s fading hearing.

"Nothing, Sir!" I said crisply. "Just apologizing, Sir!"

Admiral Dawson glared distrustfully at me, then bobbed his head. "There’s only one habitable planet in the Vartherik system–Vartherik II. We assume the Cult has constructed its base there.

"We want you to take the Fish into the Vartherik system. Once you’ve positively identified the trix convoy, you are to follow it to its base on Vartherik II, discover why the cult is hoarding trix, and return to High Command with a full report."

"You mean I don’t have to blow anything up?"

"Will you keep your mouth shut until I’m finished!" Dawson snapped. "You’re not to engage the enemy. I’ll repeat that, pilot, so it works its way into your thick head. You are not to engage the enemy under any circumstances." I let out a sigh of relief. "Unless…"

I knew it was too good to be true.

"Unless you discover that the trix cache is to be used in a weapon. Then you are authorized to demolish the base and any other structure on Vartherik II you believe capable of constructing weapons of mass destruction."

So for the last three days, Tempest and I’d been hiding in an asteroid belt, waiting for a trix convoy. I was growing impatient. Tempest was already impatient. Twice now, he had suggested that we fly by Vartherik II and look for the base ourselves. So far, I’d steadfastly refused.

I reached behind me and grabbed a food cube. I held the cube at eye level, trying to decide if my body needed the nutrients enough to justify the taste. With a look of disgust, I threw it away. It clattered noisily off the interior hull. "Hey!" Tempest said in surprise. "What do you think you’re doing! You could hurt me with those things!"

"Hurt you?" I repeated, confused. "What do you mean, hurt you! The food cube hit behind me. Your matrix is on the other side of the cockpit!"

The whirring grew momentarily louder. "There’s something you ought to know, Jonny. Something odd’s been going on that I should bring to your attention. I mean," he amended, "I wouldn’t bring it to your attention, but since I don’t know whether or not you’ll end up being hurt, this damn programming (7) is making me bring it to your attention."

"Get on with it, Toolbox."

"It seems that my matrix is bonding to the ship. I mean…That is…It’s kind of hard to explain in terms you’ll understand…Occasionally, I can feel what’s happening to the Fish–" Tempest cut off at my glare and actually amended his statement. "–the Dragon…To be honest, Jonny, I like Dragon better, but this damn programming…"

I waved for him to continue. I didn’t feel like arguing. "Sometimes I can feel what’s happening to the Dragon, or see through its sensors, not as if I’m reading the sensor data, but as if they were my own eyes."

"Is that possible?" I asked, never quite sure when Tempest was being serious.

There was a long silence. I relished it, but at the same time it made my gut quiver. There were few questions to which Tempest did not have a ready answer or a sarcastic comment. "I assume it’s possible," he answered at last, "since it’s happening." I thought I heard the tiniest hint of fear in his voice.

"How?" I demanded. "How could something like this happen?"

Another silence. "I don’t know." The admission made the silence even more oppressive.