Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [83]
“I may not have been your best student, UR, but some of it sank in.”
The Governess compy looked at EA, who stood like a statue. “Is this your Listener compy? Something is different.”
Tasia swallowed. “EA suffered an accident while doing a small task for me. Her memory has been wiped. I’m hoping we can restore it. I’ve been feeding her stories that I can remember, but I would rather restore the real data. I’ve had her checked out by Hansa cyberneticists, and I ran all the diagnostics I could get my hands on, but to no effect. Anything you can suggest?”
UR’s optical sensors flashed, interfacing with the lethargic Listener compy. After a long moment, the Governess completed her detailed scan. “Not likely. Her core memory systems are a blank slate. It is not likely EA will ever regain her past experiences.” UR paused. “I can, perhaps, share some edited downloads of my own experiences with you, from when I was your Governess. It will be a different point of view.”
“It wouldn’t be the same.” Tasia’s heart fell. She had been optimistic that another Roamer compy might offer some hope. She looked at EA, who seemed too placid, too agreeable, without any ideas of her own. Previously, the Listener compy, her friend, had been willing to offer a little advice. “Let me think about it, UR.” Her voice was soft. “I think it’s more important for us to make new memories of our own.”
Chapter 39—DENN PERONI
Yreka seemed the likeliest spot for Roamer black-market trade, since the colonists had never fully recovered from the blockade EDF siege troops had imposed not long ago. Denn Peroni and Caleb Tamblyn were both optimistic as the Dogged Persistence landed at the half-mothballed spaceport.
After opening the cockpit hatch, cargo doors, and rear access ramp, Denn and Caleb stepped out to greet the wary but curious Yrekans. With his broad smile and open arms, Denn felt like a peddler arriving in town and setting up his stand to show off his wares.
The Grand Governor of Yreka, Padme Sarhi, was a tall woman of Indian genetic stock, with extremely long hair that hung in a braid past her waist. She wore a loose white blouse and fitted slacks of a tough material, but no jewelry or insignia of office. Though she was in her mid-sixties, the Grand Governor’s skin was a smooth, ageless brown, and her large eyes held a persistent skepticism. Denn saw that he would have to win her over in order to do business with this colony.
Caleb hadn’t bothered to find a nice outfit, but Denn wore his most cheerful and flamboyant clothes: a many-pocketed jumpsuit with full sleeves and tight pants. Intricate embroidery showed clan chains all along his seams and pockets. He had tied his shoulder-length dark hair back with a blue ribbon—Cesca’s favorite color—and dabbed a woodsy scent on his cheeks and neck. He felt as if he was going courting again.
After making introductions, Denn said, “We’ve brought a few items we thought you could use.” Caleb bobbed his head in an attempt to look congenial.
The Grand Governor’s expression remained cool. “You do know that the Hanseatic League has declared all Roamers hostiles? And that anyone caught trading with them could suffer severe penalties?”
Caleb’s eyebrows shot up, and he let out a loud snort. “So, the Eddies are stretched too thin to deliver vital supplies to colonies like Yreka, but they can spare ships to spread their threats and warnings in no time at all? Typical.”
Denn hadn’t expected such tactics. “The EDF has already destroyed major Roamer settlements, ma’am—without warning and without provocation.”
“That is their standard operating procedure,” the Grand Governor said.
Denn didn’t know what to do. He shuffled his feet. “We, umm, we wouldn’t want to put your colony at risk. We’ll just pack up and leave.”
Caleb looked surprised. “We will?”
Then the tall woman surprised them. “Screw the military bastards.