Things you do not wish to...
An Alpha Centauri fan fiction by Shade
I say this only once before beginning. I don't own Alpha Centauri, though I am interested in owning Zakharov (giggles). I intend no harm. Now that we're clear about this, let us begin...
13) Remind yourself of.
The next morning, Zakharov awoke fairly early: a glance at the clock that hung on the wall told him it was only half past eight. Yawning, he rose and found the same items of breakfast that had awaited him the last day standing on the table: with a broad smile, he sat down and started eating. But something gnawed at him inside this time.
Why had Deirdre run away from him? What was it about him that made her react so violently? 'She's been having 'love trouble', but why does she run from me? I'm her friend… why didn't she tell me?' He had been so immersed in thought that he hadn't heard any sounds coming from the living room, but when he had gotten dressed fully and went to the kitchen to return the now empty tray, he found a laughing Deirdre sitting in front of her laptop.
"Sean's lucky he has a tolerant sister: if it were Prokhor who had caught him slacking off that first time… Speaking of which…", she said to the person on screen as she noticed him, motioning for him to come closer, "…here we have our genius Academician now! Prokhor, come and say hi to…"
"Corazon?" Zakharov couldn't believe his eyes: it was indeed Santiago whose face was beaming up at him. "And…"
"My son, Jonathan Garland." Now he was even more surprised. 'Her son? But she wasn't…' He smiled, however, and greeted the Latin woman heartily.
"How nice to see you're well! …When was he born, your Jonathan? I'm just wondering, because I never noticed…"
"He was born about three months after Planetfall. I hadn't started developing the outward signs of pregnancy until late in the week after Planetfall… I guess my body has changed in the duration of the cryosleep… But enough about me, how are you?" They talked for half an hour longer about what had happened to him and Deirdre: then, Santiago grew serious again. "Prokhor, Deirdre, the reason I contacted you requires a bit of explanation. My landing pod landed on a rather large island a bit more to the west of the continent you are on. It proved to be a quiet location, ideal for settlements to be built and a peaceful life. But then I got contacted from the mainland near my island. It was Morgan, telling me to stop colonizing the ocean near his part of the mainland. I replied that this planet wasn't his property and the argument escalated into a declaration of war. Since then, I've been struggling to keep my head above water – with the aid of Sister Miriam, I've been able to hold my own until now, but we've had a rough time recently, especially since Morgan 'convinced' Yang to aid him in his stupid war against us. And then, my secret project engineers came up with a revolutionary new idea: communicate with the planet's 'mind' in order to find out whether there were others who have survived… and it led me to your commlink frequencies. I've contacted you primarily to ask if it were alright if I were to join you in your alliance…"
"Of course!", Zakharov spoke at the same time as Deirdre did. Then, with a soft smile cast Deirdre's way, Zakharov continued: "If you need anything – technologies to enhance your weaponry, energy credits, military aid… you just ask us and we'll help out."
"Thank you… it could mean salvation for me and Miriam. She should contact you in about five to ten minutes, so I'll sign off and consult my military advisors."
"You can count on us, Corazon – your friends, then and now.", Deirdre said with a soft but serious smile, which Zakharov confirmed with a nod. As the screen grew black, Deirdre rose and went over to the fridge to take something to drink.
"Had a good night's sleep?", she asked, her tone of voice airy.
"I was worried about you last night, Deirdre…", he said. Immediately she turned around, a blush firmly planted on her cheeks.
"You needn't have worried… I've been so distressed lately, I go off for the least reasons…" She looked him straight in the eye as she continued, causing his heart to seemingly stop beating altogether: "I just didn't want you to see me cry over something so stupid as heartache…" He suddenly felt the irresistible urge to walk over to her and place his hand on her shoulder. His eyes were drawn to hers – who widened in apparent shock.
"Heartaches aren't stupid, Deirdre – and the one who is causing you to suffer this way doesn't know what he's missing. If it were me…", he said, but right at that moment, the laptop's intercom bleeped.
"Incoming commlink message – sender unknown – signal scrambled. Receive?"
"Well, that'll be Sister Miriam, asking if she can join in the almighty Alliance of Five…", Deirdre joked as she walked swiftly back to her laptop and pressed "receive". It was not Miriam's face, however, that appeared on screen: it was…
"Morgan." Deirdre paled so rapidly, Zakharov genuinely feared that she'd faint.
"Deirdre, dear girl!" His voice was sweet as honey, Zakharov noticed, and he seemed to just ignore his presence. "How fortunate that you're still alive! I was worried a bit when…"
"Morgan, do us both a favour and stop trying to kiss up to me: what is this about?" Deirdre's voice surprised Zakharov – and apparently Morgan as well – because of the sharp edge it had and the open animosity it showed.
"Well…" The taller African seemed taken aback for a moment, but then he regained his composure and he continued in the same honey-dripping voice: "I've been having problems around my home base – in the middle of a war, actually! I was wondering if you'd be interested in an alliance?"
"Morgan, I can make this short. About half an hour ago, Corazon contacted me with the same question. I accepted her offer of alliance – which makes us enemies." Deirdre's voice was cold and spiteful, causing a chill to run up even Zakharov's spine. Morgan now cast both of them hateful looks.
"So you won't ally with me?" His voice was now equally cold as Deirdre's had been.
"Yes. I suggest you end this conversation now – we've got nothing to say to each other unless you plan on signing a peace treaty with both Corazon and Miriam. If that isn't the case, then goodbye!" Deirdre's voice had grown louder over the duration of the sentence and she had practically deafened the other man before disconnecting herself. She breathed unevenly for a while, then she sagged in her chair.
"Deirdre, I think you handled that marvellously – I would have done the same as you…", Zakharov said as he patted her shoulder.
"Yeah… I know you would've…", she said with a smile before her face returned to its grim expression. "Excuse me, I'm going to kick something out the window.", she said. Zakharov listened anxiously for the sound of breaking glass – or worse – but she seemed to have enough sense to open the window first. The intercom decided to take advantage of the silence and bleeped again.
"Incoming message – sender unidentified. Receive?" Zakharov pushed 'receive' and instantly met with Miriam's face.
"Professor? ...I must've gotten the wrong frequency from Santiago...", she said, hastily trying to recover from the surprise. "I thought..."
"It's allright, I'm at Deirdre's. I think you'll be pleased we have both accepted Corazon's offer of an alliance, and are both willing to ally with you as well. Welcome to the 'Mighty Alliance of Five' or whatever Deirdre called it just now..." He looked at the ever-so-serious woman and saw that his attempt to be amusing had worked: her eyes sparkled.
"Well, that's good to hear. I don't think Santiago has said anything at all about what we actually expect from you and Lal, but..."
Zakharov listened to the explanation the older woman gave patiently. It appeared that neither she nor Santiago expected any troop support from them, but they were expecting that the threat of massive retaliation of any attack on one of the allies would prove enough – which seemed logical to Zakharov, since two to five was an unequal battle, even in his book. She sent him, in attachment, some technology reports – by this time, Deirdre had rejoined him, still looking disgruntled but not as irate as she had been before. As Miriam signed off, Deirdre turned again to Zakharov.
"And? Was she pleased to hear the news?"
"Yes. And from now on, we are the 'Mighty Alliance of Five'... a term which you invented, by the way...", he said as she chuckled.
"True. Well, it's about time you went to pack your stuff...", she said with a sigh – her voice betrayed how difficult it was for her to say goodbye. "I can't say when I can come back to University Base to visit – I suppose you don't know your days off in advance as well – but I promise you that we'll see each other again within the year."
"I have no doubt about that...", Zakharov said. 'I doubt it you can miss me longer anyway...', he mentally added and grinned. "I'll go pack..."
Two years later, Zakharov sat in his office, pondering. The alliance had proven fruitful: the allies had been left alone – Zakharov's army was impressive enough on its own, even Deirdre agreed, mainly because of its technological advantage – and Yang had even pledged Blood Truce with Santiago for a few weeks, after which Morgan had reprimanded his ally. Zakharov had surmised that the alliance between Yang and Morgan was one in which Morgan had all the power.
But what was more on his mind, was Deirdre. He had seen her again within the year after the wedding – at the christening of Sean's child, Michael Skye. He was the godfather: Sean had no other relative than Deirdre, and Eliza had lost her father a few weeks prior to the birth of her son, making the choice scarce. He had been filled with pride when he assumed the role he had played once for his niece – only this time, he promised himself he'd not let anything part him and his new godchild. After the christening, she had made a one-day visit to University Base – but that was too short to really enjoy her company. He was looking through his agenda, trying to find the suitable moment for him to have a long weekend – so he could stay at Deirdre's a couple of days. Right when he had found a suitable time, his intercom bleeped and he turned his attention to the screen.
"Incoming text message – sender: Lady Deirdre Skye of the Gaians. Receive?" Trying to calm his curiosity, he marked the date in his agenda and then pushed 'receive'. The message was fairly short but...
Prokhor,
As you read this message, I'm packing a suitcase. I'm coming over to you tomorrow (can you please make sure that me and my company (Sean and family) has a place to stay?) to show you a fantastic new discovery. I'll let Sean do the explaining...
Professor, this is Sean. I'll try to hurry this, because it's still a bit hard to channel... One of the technologies Sister Miriam gave you and Dee was 'neural grafting', remember? It was mainly an essay on the possibilities of the human brain, but at the end was an interesting remark. It said that the human brain is often compared to a computer, yet with a staggering difference in memory and capabilities... I've decided to research a bit further into this and I ended up with a beautiful piece of technology which I'm personally coming to demonstrate tomorrow. Sean out. Damn this thing is annoying...
Deirdre again. You'll be surprised what it can do... I'll see you tomorrow then? Greets and a warm hug, Deirdre. PS: sorry for the short notice, but genius doesn't stick to a schedule...
Zakharov smiled, then slowly started to laugh. 'She's coming over here tomorrow! I'll see her again! And she sent a warm hug...'
The next day found Zakharov in an extremely agitated state. He was up at the crack of dawn, hurried his already limited breakfast – ending up eating only half of it – and wasn't able to set his mind on his work. Therefore, he spent his time talking nervously to Tamar, who understood his trouble.
"Is your godchild coming too? I'd very much like to see him... he must be adorable...", she commented – Zakharov only faintly registered her saying it. Then, as she had walked towards the window: "I think that's her and her brother... Yes, definitely." Zakharov sprinted away, wending his way through the laboratories with a speed he knew only Deirdre could make him have. He arrived outside just in time.
"Deirdre, Sean, Eliza, welcome!" He shook Sean and Eliza's hand and placed the customary kiss on Deirdre's hand, making his friend blush yet again. 'I swear that those blushes make her even more ravishing...' "Oh, and my cute little godchild... Hello, Michael!" He took hold of the young boy's hands and gave them a soft squeeze, which the child answered vigorously. "I swear, he grows by the second! ...Oh, Tamar here will take care of Eliza and Michael, won't you, Tamar?" His assistant had caught up with him, and was now catching her breath.
"Oh, sure... Come on in, Eliza and Michael. Since my boss just gave me the day off, we can have a nice cup of coffee – and you can have some chocolate milk!" Tamar glared at him before taking off with the young mother and son, leaving Zakharov to guide Deirdre and Sean to his private quarters.
"Now, Sean...", he said as they had arrived, "what is it you wish to show me?"
"This...", said the young man, and he turned around, bearing a spot at the back of his head...
"What..." Zakharov was struck dumb as he saw it: in Sean's head was something that looked curiously like a port on a computer, in which a cable could be put. It was a ghastly sight to behold, and he involuntarily shivered. "What is it?", he asked once he had regained his voice.
"It's called 'mind-machine interface', and it means that I can access any machine via the port in my head. I volunteered as first test subject and it's a success. Want to test it? I've downloaded all possible chess moves from the Network Node in Gaia's Landing – I can beat you in three moves, no matter what you do." The confident grin on Sean's features made it clear that it was no joke, and Zakharov chuckled.
"Is chess the only thing on your mind? ...Okay," he continued as Sean chuckled as well, turning serious, "I understand what it does, but why did you do this?"
"Oh, let's just say you gave me the idea..." Now Zakharov was really surprised: how could he have inspired Sean? "Remember that old data pod that proved to be a hard nut to crack?" Zakharov nodded and it slowly started to dawn on him again... "Well, I said to you at one time that I had the feeling that I would be able to crack the code, but that the computer between me and the darned thing couldn't. Well, you said that I should try and bypass the computer – but I couldn't back then. Now, however, I've got a supercomputer at my disposal – I should be able to crack it in, say, a few hours... If I may borrow your laptop?" Zakharov understood immediately and got the data pod from his cupboards and his personal laptop from his desk. Sean immediately set to work, connecting himself to the data pod – or vice versa – using a long cable and vehemently typing down any insights in the computer. Zakharov returned to Deirdre, who was still sitting in the sofa.
"What would you like to do in the meantime, Deirdre? ...We can play chess, watch some television or do something else if you like...", he added when he saw her shrug. 'I'd like to take her in my arms, right here in this sofa, and...', he found his mind adding and he got a fiery blush – a blush which appeared almost simultaneously, for some reason, on Deirdre's cheeks. "Chess it is...", he said with a small chuckle as he saw the holoboard on his living room table had already come to life.
After a few hours, in which Zakharov had played chess with Deirdre three times – during which they talked about recent developments such as Sean's appointment as Head of Physics department and honorary professor at Gaia's Landing's university - and watched television for about an hour along with her, Sean came back into the living room with the data pod now securely plugged in to the laptop.
"Done it. The code was exactly what I thought it was, made with two prime numbers of an inequal amount of digits. You can review its contents now – if you like, professor...", he hastily added. Zakharov nodded with a benevolent smile, installed the laptop on his desk and played the contents.
He was shocked hear what was on it. Deirdre paled and fainted – he couldn't blame her, he felt weak himself – while Sean looked more horror-struck with every passing second. After the initial shock had subsided, Zakharov picked up Deirdre's limp body and carried her to the sofa, where she came to a few minutes later.
"Prokhor...", she said, looking intensely fearful and extremely irate at the same time – 'as must I', he realised.
"He'll pay for this...", was all that he could say – for as he looked upon the one he loved, he could only feel cold hate rise as he thought of the one who had caused her grief like that. "He'll not get away with murder..."
Deirdre awoke early the next morning, feeling refreshed but apprehensive. She knew she was going to have to deal with her friend – he was going to ask for an explanation, she was sure of it. As she prepared breakfast, she thought about what she was going to tell him without sounding either unconvincing or exaggerating – or, worse yet, betraying her true feelings. As she had prepared Zakharov's breakfast, she had decided to settle with indirect mentions of her trouble – 'saying that I've a heartache with which I don't want to bother him is neither a lie nor a complete truth...', she thought to herself as she walked to his room to bring his breakfast to him, after which she went to her room to get dressed. She faintly heard the sounds of eating issue from Zakharov's room as she exited, and her heart clenched. Fortunately, she was quickly diverted from her emotional turmoil by the bleep of her commlink; she had left her laptop open after having told her dream of the previous night – again one about Zakharov, in which he comforted her and in which they married even – to her digital PA.
"Who could that be?", she said, and she walked to her seat, casting a proper look at the screen. Incoming message – sender unidentified – receive? Deirdre was surprised, but pushed 'receive' anyway, hoping it would be a pleasant surprise.
And it was: the beaming face of Corazon Santiago looked at her from the screen, her expression one of relief and sincere glee.
"Deirdre! How good to see that you are well, dear friend! How have you been?" The Latin-American woman hadn't lost her cheer over the years, Deirdre was glad to find out, and she answered her friend's smile with one of her own.
"I've been very well, thank you. How have you been?"
"I've been busy – busy and happy... well, as happy as I could be, considering what happened on board the spaceship...", she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I loved John... but I've been lucky to have my memories, as well as Jonathan." And at the mention of his name, a young man came to the screen: Deirdre gasped as she realised that his face, his hair, everything about him was an exact copy of her deceased friend and leader. "Jonathan, this is Lady Deirdre Skye of the Gaians, a friend from the old days. Deirdre, this is my son Jonathan Garland."
"Your son..." Deirdre was struck dumb for a while, as she pondered whether her friend had had signs of pregnancy on board the spaceship, but she couldn't find any. "When...?"
"It didn't start to show until about Planetfall – Jonathan was born three months after our arrival here. ...But enough about my dear son...", she said all of a sudden, catching Deirdre off-hand, "I tried to contact you yesterday, but you weren't there..."
"Oh, yes, the wedding... My brother Sean got married yesterday to my personal assistant and closest friend, Eliza. After an engagement of thirteen years...", she said with a soft chuckle, at which Corazon blinked. Deirdre told her the entire story, from the first days after planetfall until the wedding itself, only stopping to allow her friend to get something to drink while doing the same. "...It was a beautiful service, and Eliza looked divine. Sean was mesmerized by her."
"Your brother seems to be a lucky man...", Santiago commented with a dry chuckle.
"And that he is. In the very beginning, he was always slacking off to sneak off with her – I caught them once, after which they apparently didn't bother anymore. ...Ah, what can I say? Sean's lucky he has a tolerant sister: if it were Prokhor who had caught him slacking off that first time…" She looked up from the screen, thinking about that thought for a second – and then she noticed her friend standing a few feet away, holding his empty tray. "Speaking of which, here we have our genius Academician now! Prokhor, come and say hi to…"
"Corazon?" Apparently, it was as much a surprise for him as it had been for her, since he stared incredulously at the screen, unable to believe it was really his old friend at first. . "And…"
"My son, Jonathan Garland." Now Zakharov was even more surprised: his eyes widened even more, Deirdre saw – she smiled softly, since she knew she must have looked as incredulous when she was told, herself.
"How nice to see you're well! …When was he born, your Jonathan? I'm just wondering, because I never noticed…" Zakharov asked in a carefully light tone, which made Deirdre look his way in surprise. 'Is he... shocked!' Santiago seemed to pay it no heed, however.
"He was born about three months after Planetfall. I hadn't started developing the outward signs of pregnancy until late in the week after Planetfall… I guess my body has changed in the duration of the cryosleep… But enough about me, how are you?" The conversation turned to their situations for the next half hour, after which Santiago nodded softly and turned serious; Deirdre nodded as well and listened. "Prokhor, Deirdre, the reason I contacted you requires a bit of explanation. My landing pod landed on a rather large island a bit more to the west of the continent you are on. It proved to be a quiet location, ideal for settlements to be built and a peaceful life. But then I got contacted from the mainland near my island. It was Morgan..." Upon hearing this, Deirdre gasped audibly. 'Oh god, he's still alive as well...', she thought as she remembered all too well what the tall African had tried to do to her. "...telling me to stop colonizing the ocean near his part of the mainland. I replied that this planet wasn't his property and the argument escalated into a declaration of war. Since then, I've been struggling to keep my head above water – with the aid of Sister Miriam, I've been able to hold my own until now, but we've had a rough time recently, especially since Morgan 'convinced' Yang to aid him in his stupid war against us. And then, my secret project engineers came up with a revolutionary new idea: communicate with the planet's 'mind' in order to find out whether there were others who have survived… and it led me to your commlink frequencies. I've contacted you primarily to ask if it were alright if I were to join you in your alliance…"
"Of course!", Deirdre said, at the same time as Zakharov. She cast her friend a soft smile which he answered before continuing: "If you need anything – technologies to enhance your weaponry, energy credits, military aid… you just ask us and we'll help out."
"Thank you… it could mean salvation for me and Miriam. She should contact you in about five to ten minutes, so I'll sign off and consult my military advisors."
"You can count on us, Corazon – your friends, then and now." Deirdre had said it with vigor and she nodded firmly, but while casting her newly refound friend a soft smile as well. Santiago nodded, signalling that she had understood and that she cared, before signing off, leaving Deirdre to suddenly realise just how close Zakharov was sitting to her: she quickly rose and walked over to the fridge to get herself and her friend a drink but mainly to escape the proximity. 'Well, I was thirsty anyway...', she thought as she rummaged about in the fridge a bit. 'All that talking makes my mouth dry...'
"Had a good night's sleep?", she asked, her tone of voice airy.
"I was worried about you last night, Deirdre…", he said. He was still worried, apparently, for his voice betrayed discomfort. She turned around with a soft blush, as her heart had suddenly leapt up, crying out 'he cares for you! He loves you!'.
"You needn't have worried… I've been so distressed lately, I go off for the least reasons…", she quickly said, trying desperately to sound convincing. As he didn't seem to give up, she looked at him directly and found herself blurting out: "I just didn't want you to see me cry over something so stupid as heartache…" 'My god, I have to be careful... my heart is trying to make me say it to him, but I won't!' Zakharov had a look of intense care on his face and he took a slow but very deliberate step her way, as if to comfort her: she reacted instinctively and fearfully stepped back. 'I can't... It isn't true...'
"Heartaches aren't stupid, Deirdre – and the one who is causing you to suffer this way doesn't know what he's missing. If it were me…", she heard her friend say – and suddenly she desperately wanted to hear what he would say next... but her laptop chose the worst moment ever to bleep. Deirdre was slightly annoyed as she walked over to the screen.
"Incoming commlink message – sender unknown – signal scrambled. Receive?"
"Well, that'll be Sister Miriam, asking if she can join in the almighty Alliance of Five…", she said, trying to sound airy – as though nothing had happened. 'How long are you going to pretend...', she found her heart saying to her mind and sounding – to her horror – absolutely rational as she pressed 'receive'.
Nothing could compare to the following shock, however: it made all further thoughts of Zakharov clear her mind altogether. "Morgan." Deirdre suddenly felt her heart turn to ice and her mind scream as reason fled and cold calculating hatred took over.
"Deirdre, dear girl!" His voice was soft as velvet – Deirdre shuddered at the thought – and he seemed to pay Zakharov no heed, though the scientist stood next to her; from the corner of her eye, Deirdre saw a look of intense disgust on her friend's face and felt the same way. "How fortunate that you're still alive! I was worried a bit when…"
"Morgan, do us both a favour and stop trying to kiss up to me: what is this about?" Deirdre was surprised by the sound of her voice – hostile and devoid of warmth – but only for a split second, after which her mind relapsed into its calculating icy shell.
"Well…" Morgan seemed to be intimidated for a moment – 'That's right, you bastard, I'm in control here!' – before returning to his suave ways: "I've been having problems around my home base – in the middle of a war, actually! I was wondering if you'd be interested in an alliance?"
"Morgan, I can make this short. About half an hour ago, Corazon contacted me with the same question. I accepted her offer of alliance – which makes us enemies." 'I didn't know I could be such an ice cold bitch, but it feels good to chew him up and spit him out...', Deirdre thought with a grim feeling of satisfaction as Morgan now cast her a look of utmost loathing as well as casting one Zakharov's way
"So you won't ally with me?" His voice was now as cold as her heart.
"Yes. I suggest you end this conversation now – we've got nothing to say to each other unless you plan on signing a peace treaty with both Corazon and Miriam. If that isn't the case, then goodbye!" She had virtually shouted the last few words before closing the commlink channel, but it felt right to. She still felt extremely angry, though, and felt volatile.
"Deirdre, I think you handled that marvellously – I would have done the same as you…", Zakharov commented while patting her on the shoulder, briefly lifting her from the maelstrom of spiteful thoughts about Morgan. She smiled as she turned to him for a moment.
"Yeah… I know you would've…", she said softly, before she returned to her grim mood. "Excuse me, I'm going to kick something out the window." And with that, she turned around and went to her room, where she grabbed a random item from inside her junk closet, opened the window and threw the object in a wide arc into the walled-in forest. The faint 'clang' when it hit the ground was enough to ease her mind again – for in her thoughts, it had been Morgan she threw out and broke. 'Oh, I'd love to really break him... but that won't happen..." After making sure that her mind was completely at rest, she returned to her living room, where she heard Zakharov discuss with Miriam a bit as she sent him some tech reports, apparently. She didn't seem to have much time, though, for she signed off after a few minutes – as soon as the tech reports were transmitted.
"And? Was she pleased to hear the news?", she asked tentatively, her tone of voice hinting that she was allright again and didn't want to hear the name 'Morgan' anymore.
"Yes. And from now on, we are the 'Mighty Alliance of Five'... a term which you invented, by the way...", he replied with a soft chuckle, which she found herself chuckling at as well.
"True. Well, it's about time you went to pack your stuff..." Deirdre sighed as she had said it, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest. "I can't say when I can come back to University Base to visit – I suppose you don't know your days off in advance as well – but I promise you that we'll see each other again within the year." She directed her eyes at him, hoping to convince him that it was true. 'I just can't miss you again...', she added in thought while a faint blush played across her cheeks.
"I have no doubt about that...", Zakharov said with a broad grin. "I'll go pack..."
It was about a year and a half after the wedding, and almost a year after the christening of Sean's son Michael – Eliza had announced the joyful news after their honeymoon, and Zakharov was one of the first to know and also was asked if he wanted to be the child's godfather, which he said he would gladly be – when Deirdre received an overly enthusiastic Sean in her office.
"Calm down, Sean!", she said as her brother stumbled over his words in his haste to tell her some news he had. "Sit down, please, and start from the beginning..."
"Well, I was really just looking for something to read during my coffee break, and Eliza had these papers on neural grafting lying around on her desk..." 'Oh, one of Miriam's presents...', Deirdre thought with a smile: the tech reports had proven fruitful and most beneficial for her own research already. Then, suddenly, she remembered that neural grafting was a biotechnology and wondered what it was that had Sean in a state of near-ecstatic excitement. "...so I grabbed those. In the back was a small item on the resemblance that the human brain is said to have to a supercomputer. I believe the exact words were: "The human brain is often compared to its technological approximation, the computer. But nature has provided to be vastly better than technology in this field also, for to attain the same amount of memory or even computing strength of the human mind, one would need about five million supercomputers. The human brain is still unmatched by any technology and will remain so for a very long time to come." But Dee, that got me thinking... what if we could give people access to the super-supercomputers in their head? ...I've still got some research to do but..."
"Sean, are you saying you want to tap into the human brain? For what purpose!" Deirdre was flabbergasted: she couldn't comprehend what her brother wanted exactly, but it sounded very much impossible.
"Well, remember the reason why I had to stay at University Base for three more years? I was thinking..." As he explained, Deirdre found her mind becoming more and more convinced that he was an absolute genius but also an absolute dreamer.
"Sean, if you pull that off... I'll make you head of the Physics department and honorary professor in Physics and Neurophysics at the Gaian University...", she said, her mind still reeling from her brother's words.
"Don't worry, sis", Sean said as he walked to her door and opened it. "I will succeed."
And that was why Deirdre was going for a two-day visit to University Base half a year later, travelling in the company of her new head of Physics department and honorary colleague-professor at the Gaian University. 'Me and my big fat mouth...', Deirdre thought as the smug look on Sean's face, which had appeared when he came to hand in his paper on the subject and ask when he would be appointed, persisted even then, while they were travelling at a very fast speed to her friend's home base.
The rover troops dropped her off at the gates before driving to the soldiers' quarters themselves; Deirdre immediately felt herself being pulled onward, into the city and to her friend... her beloved friend...
As they reached the main building – the labs, actually – Deirdre saw Zakharov emerge from within. 'He looks as though he's run half a mile...', she mused as she saw him draw deep breaths.
"Deirdre, Sean, Eliza, welcome!", he said as he descended the stairs, shaking Sean and Eliza's extended hands but placing a kiss on her hand, which made a burning feeling creep onto her cheeks. 'If I didn't know better, I'd say he was actually teasing me...', she thought as she saw his eyes twinkle a bit – and then he turned to her nephew. "Oh, and my cute little godchild... Hello, Michael!" He shook the one-year-old's small hands softly and with a broad grin. "I swear, he grows by the second! ...Oh, Tamar here will take care of Eliza and Michael, won't you, Tamar?" His assistant had now emerged from the building, apparently having run as well: she, too, was out of breath.
"Oh, sure... Come on in, Eliza and Michael. Since my boss just gave me the day off, we can have a nice cup of coffee – and you can have some chocolate milk!" Deirdre giggled as Tamar looked disgruntled and Zakharov suddenly blanched. 'He shouldn't have bossed her around...', she thought as she followed Zakharov to his private residence.
"Now, Sean...", the older scientist said as they had arrived, "what is it you wish to show me?"
"This...", Sean simply stated as he bared his new 'extension' in the back of his head.
"What..." Zakharov was struck dumb as he saw it, apparently – Deirdre couldn't blame him, she had been horrified at first as well – and he shuddered as he beheld it. "What is it?", he asked tentatively, obviously not trying to sound too aghast and failing miserably.
"It's called 'mind-machine interface', and it means that I can access any machine via the port in my head. I volunteered as first test subject and it's a success. Want to test it? I've downloaded all possible chess moves from the Network Node in Gaia's Landing – I can beat you in three moves, no matter what you do." The confident grin on Sean's features showed he would like to crush his one-time mentor, and Zakharov chuckled, the sound of which made shivers run down Deirdre's spine.
"Is chess the only thing on your mind?" Now Sean was the one to chuckle, albeit a dirty kind of chuckle, and Deirdre found herself thinking that it would be nice to have a niece as well. 'Oh, that's just gross... next thing I know I'll be encouraging the two of them...' "...Okay," Zakharov continued, turning serious, "I understand what it does, but why did you do this?"
"Oh, let's just say you gave me the idea... Remember that old data pod that proved to be a hard nut to crack?", Sean elaborated as Zakharov looked nonplussed. The older scientist nodded, and slowly a look of understanding crept onto his features. "Well, I said to you at one time that I had the feeling that I would be able to crack the code, but that the computer between me and the darned thing couldn't. Well, you said that I should try and bypass the computer – but I couldn't back then. Now, however, I've got a supercomputer at my disposal – I should be able to crack it in, say, a few hours... If I may borrow your laptop?" Zakharov nodded and disappeared into his office, apparently rummaging around to find the data pod: he returned after a minute or so with the device and his personal laptop. Sean immediately set to work, connecting himself to the data pod – or vice versa – using a long cable and vehemently typing down any insights in the computer. Zakharov returned to Deirdre, who was still sitting in the sofa.
"What would you like to do in the meantime, Deirdre?" She shrugged, not really knowing what he would want to do. "...We can play chess, watch some television or do something else if you like...", he added tentatively. 'Hmm, if only I could just sidle up to you on this sofa and cuddle with you, maybe kiss you, and... Oh, no, don't think like that!' She blushed profusely – and for some odd reason, she noted, Zakharov blushed as well before saying with a small chuckle: "Chess it is...". The holoboard sprang to life at his words, seemingly, and Deirdre smiled softly – glad that he didn't notice her blush... or did he?
The played three games in total, during which they talked of small things. Deirdre told him of Sean's new functions and added ruefully that she should refrain from promising him rewards in return for technology – a comment to which Zakharov could only laugh, which sent jolts of heat through Deirdre's blood. Between games, they just sat and talked about random things or watched television: Zakharov showed off the University's many TV channels and she commented on their contents – all in the spirit of their friendship. And then, Sean walked in with a ceremonious gesture.
"Done it. The code was exactly what I thought it was, made with two prime numbers of an inequal amount of digits. You can review its contents now – if you like, professor...", he hastily added when Deirdre cast him a scalding look. Zakharov nodded and the three adjourned to the table where the laptop stood to see what the mysterious object held.
And they were horror-stricken from begin to end: Zakharov looked darkly at the screen while the contents of the data pod unfolded itself, speaking of terrible things, and Sean... 'Poor Sean, don't listen!', Deirdre thought as she saw her brother looking more and more horrified. And she felt her body failing her, suddenly and completely – she welcomed the darkness... She still registered someone – 'Prokhor? Sean doesn't have that kind of strength in him' – pick her up and carry her to somewhere else, somewhere softer... and slowly she regained consciousness: Zakharov was sitting on the ground next to her, his eyes speaking of a battle between worry about her and cold hate for the one who had caused her such inner pain.
"Prokhor...", she said, her heart being torn between immense fear and intense dislike of the person responsible for what had happened – all that had happened – to her.
"He'll pay for this...", her friend replied, his voice speaking of determination. "He'll not get away with murder..."