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  Praise for QUANTUM MORTIS A Mind Programmed

  “If THE PROGRAMMED MAN read like the secret dossier transcripts of the historic event, then QUANTUM MORTIS A Mind Programmed is the pulse-pounding eyewitness experience. Whereas the typical marriage of public domain works and modern authorship seem most often to result in "Jane Austen plus monsters" semi-parodies, QUANTUM MORTIS A Mind Programmed breaks new ground, presenting itself instead as a sizzling collaboration between two powerful science fiction voices of two different eras.”

  —DANIEL ENESS, author of Dead Vault

  QUANTUM MORTIS A Mind Programmed by Vox Day

  Published by Castalia House

  Kouvola, Finland

  www.castaliahouse.com

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by Finnish copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  This book is a literary remix of THE PROGRAMMED MAN by Jeff and Jean Sutton, which was published in 1968 and was subsequently released to the public domain by their heirs.

  Copyright © 2014 by Vox Day

  All rights reserved

  Cover Design: JartStar

  www.behance.net/jartstar

  Brush by z-design

  Version 003

  For Fred, who has always had my back.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The seeds of Terra's galactic empire were first sown in the early 21st Century, when Italian scientists from the Oscillation Project with Emulsion-tRacking Apparatus observed neutrinos traveling faster than light. Initially believed to be the result of equipment failure, it was only a matter of time before those neutrinos were succeeded by spaceships. Transdimensional travel had unlocked Man's path to the stars.

  —from “Terra and the Tau Neutrino: The History of the Deep Frontier” by Dr. Sergius Neumann

  HIS EYES held the mark of Achernar.

  The whites were not white, but a light blue shade peculiar to the descendants of the Terrans who over a hundred generations ago colonized the three worlds of that bluish sun, deep in the heart of the constellation Yggdrasil. Otherwise, Corden Hull, captain of the Horizon-class destroyer ATSV Draco, DD-10628, appeared to be an ordinary descendant of Terra. Stocky, muscled, his close-cropped hair shot with grey, he had the bronzed, leathery skin of a man who'd seen the light of a hundred suns. He was handsome, with a commanding presence, and it was not hard to imagine he must have a special friend in more than one port of call.

  That was how he struck Daniela York at first glance. On the reasonable assumption that an Achernarni would not command a destroyer of the line without unusual qualities, York looked closer and saw what she should have noticed earlier, were it not for the odd bluish light in the captain's cabin to which her own eyes had not yet become accustomed. Hull's eyes were not the human norm in more ways than one. In addition to being light blue, they also happened to be some of the most penetrating York had ever seen. Sharp, hard, and analytical, his eyes gave her no clue to whatever thoughts might be lurking behind them. Neither did the expression on his square-set, rugged face.

  Only the tightness of his polite smile betrayed his understandable irritation. He was a man with terrible responsibilities, a man in a tremendous hurry, a man who clearly had much more important things to do than deal with a woman insistent on finding a berth on his warship.

  Or so he thought.

  Hull's voice was remarkably controlled under the circumstances, especially given the provocation she was offering him. “I am very sorry, Miss Lancaster, but Navy regulations absolutely prohibit the transport of civilians except under conditions of extreme emergency. As it happens, even if you could convince me that Xigaze's sun is on the verge of going nova, there is nothing for us to discuss.”

  He didn't realize how he betrayed his concerns with that example, she thought, hiding her amusement. York took the captain's measure in the strange blue light of his cabin, wondering how difficult it would be to convince him to grant her passage. She reviewed the options available to her. Seduction was out of the question. Neither bribery nor pleading were going to avail her anything. Threats were pointless. That left only as much of the truth as it would require to satisfy his demands.

  “That's precisely why I'm here, Captain. You are correct. It is indeed an emergency.” Her ears caught the sounds of banging hatches and creaking winches as the crew of the Draco made their hasty preparations to depart from Xigaze, the lonely, sparsely inhabited planet that orbited the midget star Blackett on which this far-flung military outpost stood; a solitary sentinel on the spinward edge of the Ascendancy.

  The captain stared impassively at her. She'd seen his records and she knew he was relatively intelligent for a naval officer. It struck York that if Hull had been born on the right planet, to the right House, a man of his capabilities would be expected to command a Shiva-class cruiser rather than a petty destroyer at the borders of the Ascendancy. It was true that Draco carried long-range lasers, cobalt warheads, nucleonic bolts—all the conventional weapons—but she was not armed with the dreaded sunbuster manufactured by Speer-Markova Munitions. By both law and custom, only a trusted, Terran-born member of House Malhedron could command a Shiva-class warship. For all the terrible devastation it could wreak, Hull's ship couldn't inspire a star to suicide.

  When Hull still didn't respond, but continued to calmly stare at her, York had no choice but to break the silence, “Captain, I know your crew has informed you that my authorization is confirmed by Admiral Borenhall. I can't imagine you would have consented to see me otherwise.”

  Hull ignored her appeal to higher authority. “I've informed you of the regulations, Miss Lancaster.”

  “And I've shown you my credentials.”

  “They look legitimate,” Hull admitted. “However, I don't have the time to wait for the necessary confirmation. We have some unexpected business to address, so I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave now. As you have presumably observed, we are making our preparations to leave the system shortly.”

  York found herself admiring the man's diplomatic aplomb. Unexpected business? That was putting it mildly. Looking at Hull, you would never imagine that the Ascendancy's naval hierarchy was on the reddest of red alerts. Forcing herself to mirror his equanimity, she persisted. “My authorization from Admiral Borenhall is tantamount to an order, Captain.”

  “Admiral Borenhall commands the Tenth Sector,” replied Hull. “When in the Tenth Sector, I am under his command. At all other times I am subject only to the orders of the High Admiral of the Galactic Seas.” His voice turned glacial. “This is one of those times, Miss Lancaster.”

  “I am travelling on Ascendancy business,” she objected. “Vital Ascendancy business, as it happens.”

  “Not that I can see, Miss Lancaster.” Hull looked past her at the hulking figure lounging just inside the doorway. His name was Lieutenant Tregaski; he had brought her to the captain earlier. “Our business is done here. Lieutenant, would you kindly escort the lady from the ship?”

  “Aye aye, sir,” replied Tregaski.

  As Tregaski stepped forward, York sighed and shook her head, “I'm afraid you're forcing my hand here, Captain Hull.” She saw the captain stiffen as she slipped a hand into her vest, well aware that Tregaski was likely drawing his weapon behind her at range where he could hardly miss. Carefully now! After gingerly pulling out her wallet, she removed an ID card from it and hel
d it out for Hull to read.

  The captain read it. He shook his head, then read it again. His eyes flicked to the lieutenant. “Out,” he said.

  “Sir?” York could hear the confusion in Tregaski's voice.

  “You heard me. Out. Now.”

  “Captain!” The lieutenant saluted with a crispness that effectively communicated his unhappiness and stalked out of Hull's quarters. As he exited, he slapped the panel and the door closed behind him.

  “Ascendancy Intelligence?” Hull murmured the words quietly in a voice that betrayed both doubt and wonder.

  “That is strictly in confidence, you understand. I would have preferred to tell you later.” York calmly met the captain's eyes. If the Ascendancy's Navy was the instrument that kept over four hundred inhabited planets living in reasonably civilized harmony, it was the shadowy agents of the Ascendancy Intelligence Directorate that nipped discord in the bud and preserved Terra's supremacy intact. Without the AID, as it was usually called, the restless posthuman worlds of the god-machines would long since have challenged the Ascendancy yoke, sunbuster or no sunbuster. And at least one of the thirteen Great Houses that ruled various collections of planets would have openly revolted against the dominance of House Malhedron instead of contenting themselves in an endless rivalry for the second position.

  As it happened, she was aware that Li-Hu of House Dai Zhan, a prince who claimed to be able to trace his ancestry in an unbroken line to the Gòngchandang emperors of ancient China, had both his royal feet planted squarely in the middle of the captain's present emergency, even if Hull didn't know it yet.

  Hull glanced up from the credentials, remarking, “This isn't sufficient, Miss Lancaster. Or Miss York, if that is actually your name.”

  “Agent York. I'm sure you know the naval regs concerning the assistance due an intelligence operative as well as I do, Captain Hull,” she said dismissively. “You're not actually going to make me recite them for you, are you?”

  “Anyone can carry a card,” Hull snapped back. “How do I know that you're Daniela York? You've produced two sets of credentials, Miss York. You came aboard as Ann-Margot Lancaster, an inspector for the Colonial Planets Administration, and, for some mysterious reason, credentials supposedly supplied by Admiral Borenhall. Now, you're suddenly Daniela York, an AID operative.”

  He leaned towards her. “Now tell me who you really are. Or get off my ship.”

  She smiled innocently. “I'm York. I'm a covert operative with the Directorate. Lancaster is merely one of my cover identities.”

  “I can't simply take your word for that.”

  “Of course you can't. But I can prove that I'm Daniela York. Have your ship's doctor scan my DNA. The ship can match it to the visitor's registry. As the senior naval officer on planet, you must have the necessary access.”

  He nodded. “Very well. Ship?”

  “Captain,” the ship's computer responded in a contralto voice.

  “Can you confirm a Daniela York is listed as a present visitor to the planet?”

  “Yes, I can confirm it, Captain.” York glanced at the screen on the wall facing the captain as it flared to life, displaying a not-entirely flattering picture of a brown-haired woman with small, sharp features in her mid-thirties, in addition to her name, her age, her date of arrival, and various other information. Her employer, however, was listed as AG General Galactic, not Ascendancy Intelligence.

  She pointed to the name of her purported employer. “This particular branch of A Three Gee is a front operation, of course. We can't openly advertise our actual employer, you understand.”

  “No, of course not.” Hull frowned and rubbed his chin. “I think we can dispense with the DNA examination, at least for now. Well, Miss York, you may be who you say you are, but this still doesn't prove you're actually what that card says you are.”

  “An intelligence operative?” She nodded agreeably, her confidence growing. “That's true. An AID operative would be expected to know why you're rushing to push the Draco into space. She would know you were slated to remain on Xigaze for another two months, until secret orders arrived from the naval base at Nang La via X-courier.”

  “Keep talking, Miss York.” If his eyes had been skeptical before, they were positively radiating suspicion now.

  She leaned forward and spoke very slowly and deliberately. “The Shiva-class cruiser Rigel is missing. A deep space buoy picked up a distress call from subsector Zero Seven Zero Two. That was two weeks ago. Since then, there hasn't been a single word concerning its fate. Lost—one sunbuster. That's your emergency, Captain.”

  “That knowledge is restricted to the Admiralty—”

  “And to the captain of this destroyer since you happen to be nearest the scene,” she interrupted.

  “How can you possibly know anything about—”

  “It's my job to know,” countered York. She smiled coldly at him, enjoying the look of mixed suspicion and alarm on his square-jawed face. Despite the crucial stakes at hand, this sort of discourse with Hull was the sort of cat-and-mouse game she liked, at least as long as she was the cat. “Now do you believe me?”

  The captain took a deep breath. At this point, they both knew there was no way he could permit her to leave the ship. “I suppose I do,” he admitted.

  A knock came at the door. Hull tapped his desk, and the door opened to admit a crewman, who saluted crisply and said, “The watch officer reports all loading completed, Captain.”

  “Very well.” Hull glanced the screen, presumably to mark the time. “Tell all hands to prepare for immediate ascent to orbit. We'll transit as soon as possible.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” As the crewman saluted and departed, Hull gazed thoughtfully at the agent. York returned his look without expression, suppressing her sense of relief at knowing she'd won. She knew far too much for Hull to put her off the ship.

  Hull said slowly, “You've placed me in somewhat of a predicament, Agent York.”

  “And I am sorry for it. But we both know what is at stake. The way I see it, Captain, you can either arrest me and put me in the brig or provide me with quarters on our voyage to subsector Zero Seven Zero Two. I don't suppose you have any female crew members?”

  Hull groaned and put a hand to his forehead. “I hadn't even considered that. No, not a single one, Agent York. We're a fighting ship, not a cruise liner.” He tapped his desk again, and a moment later, the cabin door opened to reveal the return of the big lieutenant.

  “Captain?” Tregaski said, not even glancing in her direction.

  “I have decided to allow you to remain aboard as a passenger, Miss York.” Hull ignored the lieutenant and addressed her. “I must warn you, however, that you will be restricted to the officers' deck except when escorted by a crew member.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Now, Miss York, there are any number of questions I would very much like to ask you, but as it appears you will be joining us for the next few weeks, I will save them for our next conversation. As you have no doubt gathered, there are matters to which I must attend.”

  She inclined her head towards him, then rose from her seat. “Thank you, Captain Hull. I shall look forward to answering your questions. And if I can be of any help—”

  “That will not be necessary, Miss York,” Hull answered drily. He glanced at Tregaski. “Lieutenant, if you'd see about finding individual quarters for Miss York….”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Even by common wisdom, there seem to be both people and objects in my dream that are outside myself, but clearly they were created in myself and are part of me, they are mental constructs in my own brain.

  —“The Sacred Meditations of the Bio-Prophet Kurzweil”

  IN THE dream she was being torn to shreds, not physically, but in her mind, atom by atom, probed, plucked, dissected, stripped naked until every thought stood as bare as the bleached bones of a whale on a desert beach. A glaring light shone mercilessly into her eyes, masking the source of th
e voice that intoned, “You will…You will…”

  The voice! She knew that voice! It whispered to her in her dreams, murmured to her in her waking moments. Dr. G! She didn't have to see the rounded figure or the soft, bland face to know the voice belonged to him. They were alone together in the dark chamber, all in shadow except for the bright light that shone mercilessly down onto the table on which she lay, clothed only in a sheen of sweat. “You will, will, will…” She tossed and moaned feverishly as the sensation gathered itself deep inside her core, then convulsed as the hellishly bright light exploded in the center of her mind.

  Then she awoke, her skin flushed and red, her legs weak with the intensity of the release. She was shaking with a strange chill. My God, the dreams!

  “I am Myranda Flare, Myranda Flare…” The words rushed from her lips in a sobbing refrain before she could clamp them tight. She cast a quick look around to see if anyone had heard, as if there was anyone to hear her in the solitude of the hotel room in which she had been sleeping. It was a name that had been locked away until just now, even from herself.

  “You will not divulge your identity to anyone except those dictated by your mission requirements.” The warning abruptly entered her mind out of nowhere; at the same time she realized that she knew the names of those she needed to contact next. Like her own name, they were indelibly engraved in her memory. That was the whole point of the secretive process she had undergone. The risks had been tremendous; it was almost more than they'd dared hope that she had already made it this far.

  “All information about the mission must be locked away inside your mind!” The voice behind the light had told her as much. “Who you are, what you are, and what your next move will be, everything must be safely locked away in the event you are intercepted and captured. The machines give you a 22.641 percent chance of penetrating the naval blockade, but the odds will increase in your favor with each step you successfully complete. Through the programmed event triggers, the data you require will come out precisely as you need it. This is the opportunity for which we have waited for decades, Myranda, perhaps even centuries. You are the best operative we have and everything is depending on you!”