“Then you can afford patience if you already have proof of your outcome,” Valda told him, and took a sip of her tea. “Particularly if you would prefer my cooperation versus trying to force me.”
A frown tightened Smith’s expression. “Then you’re agreeing?”
“I didn’t say that.”
This was the gamble.
OZ
He had my issues with this plan. Issues that began and ended with Valda having to take the most risks. Dirk had argued on her behalf though, and that surprised Oz more than anything else. He would have expected the military man to be violently opposed.
“Then what are you saying, Doctor Bashan?” Smithson demanded. His cool expression didn’t even attempt an air of friendliness. If anything, he seemed to grow angrier and more impatient. Then again, Valda did have a masterful way of speaking dismissively when she had no patience for the person questioning her.
At the moment, however, she wore the smallest of smiles, as though she were indulging a child. The first time she’d done it to Oz, he’d known that he would do anything to impress her. Her mind was such a rarity, gifted, insightful, and sharp, yet she didn’t bother with people skills unless they needed them. Then she made those efforts for them—Oz and his brothers.
And she’d continued making the efforts. The steady thump of her heart beneath his hand steadied Oz, even as he drank the tea in small, measured sips. Dirk had knocked back half of his, while Andreas and Hatch took their time. Still, they’d likely be done at the same time.
It was the little things that matter in the type of game they were playing.
“I’m saying that I have given your offer a great deal of consideration,” she told him. “I have questions for you, but I fear I know the answers, largely because of the state of research in today’s world. The chances you’ve located a habitable world are relatively high. They had already discovered at least one back in the early part of the twenty-first century. Granted, it was a few hundred light years away, but it did exist according to measurements, observation, and long-range research.”
“It’s not as far as all that. It’s located in the Eridani system. That star is the closest to our own sun. Granted, it will take time, hence the use of stasis pods. But we’ve improved our engine models, we have a crew that can rotate, allowing for someone to always be on shift, and they would have downtime in stasis.”
Almost eagerly, Smithson leaned forward.
“Yes, a lot of this is theoretical, but the tech exists.”
“I know it does. You loaded it into the frameworks for the memoriam while I was in it. I believe you had us troubleshooting several of those systems.”
Smithson flinched.
She gave him a moment and took a sip of her tea. “I’m sorry, did you think I wouldn’t be aware of the technology that appeared in the different scenarios?” How she managed to make her sympathy almost patronizing was a true talent.
“He probably presumed we were unaware of his interference, even from a distance, with the equipment,” Oz stated coolly. That they had been very much unaware that the Foundry had bypassed Hatch’s security protocols was not something they planned on sharing.
“Or that we took careful note of each and every interaction you had,” Hatch added with the kind of nonchalance that said he didn’t give a damn. He drained his tea and then let the empty mug dangle carelessly from his fingers.
“If you knew,” Smithson began, his eyes narrowing, “why would you proceed?”
“Because the memoriam was our only way to save Valda,” Andreas told him simply. “You may have been working from a place of greed, but we were willing to sacrifice anything to save her.”
All truth, really, because had they known what the Blossom Foundry were doing? Oz doubted they would have stopped. Not when they needed the equipment so much.
“Fine,” Smithson said, spreading his hands as he leaned back. Unfortunately, he couldn’t pull off the level of casual Valda had affected. He wore his uncertainty like a badge. “Then you’re aware that Benedict modified the engines. They are more than capable of reaching the cruising speed to get the colonists to the planet in a decade. Security protocols have been enhanced by Captain Rossi. Doctor Morgan’s work with biofeedback and specifications with regard to the stasis pods have proven extremely successful. And you, Dr. Bashan…you gave us the most invaluable piece of all.”
“You believe that by my participating, I will be able to support how many disparate minds in one cohesive framework?”
“I know you can,” he said. “Every test we ran proved you could. With each framework you built, it grew stronger and stronger. Even the ones you rejected, and that last one—it was near perfect before you jettisoned it willfully.” Because Hatch had been getting mapped. They all had been. But the framework began to utilize them. The same would have to be done to all the passengers, but that level of cooperation among Oz and his brothers when they cared about each other had taken finesse, and they’d found a thousand ways to fail when they only needed one way to succeed.
Something Smithson didn’t or couldn’t understand.
“We have improved the tech. Once we have you inserted, we’ll give you time to get the framework where you like it, and then we’ll load the passengers a few dozen at a time.”
Dozen?
Was he insane? Did he not realize the level of work she had to do to accommodate them? The people she loved? No, Oz didn’t really need to question it. Smithson was insane. And greedy.
“Will you be among the first few dozen?” Valda asked him, a kind of vague curiosity in her tone.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Smithson said with a grimace, and then he wiped the distaste from his expression. Too late, he’d already betrayed himself. “My work will keep me here. Someone has to make sure the next ship is built so a supply vessel can follow with more passengers. A new planet, with fresh resources, no pollution, and none of the problems we have here… It will be a paradise.”
“You and I have very different ideas of paradise,” Dirk told him as he drained his tea.
Oz’s was more than half-gone, so he took another longer and deeper drink.
“You just lack the vision to see how ideal it will be,” Smithson said dismissively. “It makes sense, your task is war. This is creation. Imagine it, Doctor,” he continued, refocusing on Valda. “You could be the reason the human race survives. You could give them freedom from everything that has nearly destroyed us.”
“Except I wouldn’t be,” she told him after she finished her cup. “Because what nearly destroyed us, is us.”
He frowned.
“It was our greed,” Andreas informed him. “Our intolerance.”
“Our basic selfishness,” Oz added. “Fear of the unknown.”
“Hate,” Hatch said as he sagged against the wall, head lolling against the stone some and his eyes half-closed. “Hate is the soul killer. And we bathed in it. Hate and blame.”
“What we hate or don’t understand,” Dirk finished. “We try to own or to destroy. You want to do both.”
Smithson glanced at all of them before locking on her again. “This conversation is getting us nowhere. Doctor Bashan, I understand reticence, but you really have no choice.”