Daros, page 30
Frim removed it, stretched her arms, and rubbed her wrists. They were chafed but otherwise undamaged. She picked up her scanner and put it back on her wrist. “Thank you, Brecca Vereen. It is good to have freedom restored.”
Brecca turned off the cylinder. “I’m not working with the locals, either. We were just here to trade. Then we got shot down, by you.” A flash of anger. “And then things… got weird. I met the Vonar who brought the ship here, and he died, and he kind of left the ship to me. It came down and picked me up. Just a couple days ago. We haven’t attacked any of you since then. Well, until we crashed into that soldier when we met you. But that was Lyra, not me.”
The human was concerned. Frim chose to try to calm her. “I am not concerned with the attacks. My fleet was attempting to destroy the Vonar ship. A counterattack was justified. Those who died were mostly newly hatched, and regardless, they were quickly replaced.” Frim picked up a sudden hint of horror. Not the right thing to say. She would need to be more careful. She wished she had diplomatic training, but her assignment was to a war fleet, not a diplomatic corps, and even then, a navigator wouldn’t get much other than the basics.
The human’s mouth flexed, and its eyes grew wider. “All right, then.” It took in a breath. Inhaling through one’s speaking hole must be unpleasant. Frim wondered what human’s nasal openings were for, if not breathing. They were pretty small. Maybe they were just ornamental. “Our companion, Guzma, told us we needed to rescue you. We don’t know why. Can you tell us?”
“The one who speaks without words? Whose emotions have a distinct and unusual flavor?”
Confusion. “Uh, sure. The first part, anyway. He spoke to you?”
“He promised me rescue. He urged me to come with you. I do not know why.”
The human remained speechless. Frim gathered that she was choosing her words. Then she spoke. “We know you have a security pass that grants access to a site near here.”
That was unexpected. “How do you know about that? You said you were not one of the humans from this world.”
“I’m a quick learner.” The human exhaled noisily. Brecca. Frim needed to remember the name. Brecca spoke again. “Are you trying to reach the site?”
Frim could think of no deception that would be plausible, and no real harm in the admission, if the human already knew of her security pass. “Yes. Are you as well?”
Brecca did not answer. “Is the site why the Zeelin attacked here?”
“Yes. They wish to use it to advance Zeelin culture and to assert dominance.”
“So that is what it does? It’s a weapon?”
The humans must not know much. “I am not certain of the specifics, but I know it is ancient technology. The Fleet thinks it can be used to advance our warmaking capabilities.” Frim pondered what to say next. The strategic situation was so degraded, so unknowable, that it seemed like the truth would work better than any lie. “I do not wish this. I oppose the Zeelin government. I am…” Frim thought. “Dissatisfied. I am unhappy with Zeelin society. It is cruel and violent, and its guiding dogma is incorrect and hurtful.” Frim realized she had not put words to this before herself, although some of those leading the conspirators had used lofty language. It felt a bit treasonous to say it herself, but also good. “I do not wish the Zeelin fleet to succeed in what they are doing here.”
Brecca stretched her oral opening to be very wide and thin. The mineral concretions showed a bright white. There were so many of them. It looked ghastly. “Well, Navigator Frim, that makes two of us. Or four of us, really. I guess we know why Guzma wanted you on board. Say, have you ever heard of a Homitta?”
66
Gate Checked
Dust drifted up from the road, swirling in the breeze. At the side of the road, three Zeelin soldiers lay sprawled on the fronds of prickly-looking groundcover plants. Or rather, most of them lay on the ground. A good bit of them seemed to have been vaporized. Or at least, that’s what Brecca surmised from the massive black ellipse burnt into the vegetation. It was not a pleasant sight. She turned so that they were hidden from her view.
The road led up to an imposing wall, maybe eight meters high, but the massive metal gate that would otherwise have blocked their way was open, slid to one side. The ruts cut into the dust were large and knobby, suggesting mining trucks. And perhaps that it may have rained before the vehicles passed, or maybe they were just huge and heavy. Brecca didn’t see anything that looked like heavy weapons, but obviously something had shot the soldiers. That would be what Corax’s security passes were meant to disable. If they even worked. Brecca set down the case containing Guzma. She hadn’t wanted to be burdened with him on this reconnaissance, because he was heavy, but he’d been insistent. Accompany.
Frim was using a shovel spoon to eat a third container of the ship’s pudding. “This is delicious. It has exquisite salinity.” A glob of gray pudding was stuck to her lower lip. It slid downward towards her torso.
Brecca tried not to make a face. Then she realized Frim probably wouldn’t know what it meant anyway. “Do you know who these dead people are? Or were?”
“I heard at the commandos’ outpost that some had strayed too close to the weapons. These appear to be that squad.”
“Then we’d best not get much closer. At least, until we figure out if it’s going to shoot us too.”
“We should be protected. I have a security pass. You said you did as well.” Frim’s mouth jiggled when she spoke, but the sounds came from deeper within, like there was maybe a set of lips and a tongue hidden somewhere down inside there. Or something. It was odd to watch. She had trouble with some consonants – the T’s were not sharp, and the S’s were hissy.
Brecca realized she was staring. She looked down. “I’ve got two of the security things.” She felt her side pocket, where the passes she’d taken from Corax sat. The metal chevron was in a pocket below. She didn’t know how or if it related to this site, but Corax had wanted it, as had Evon. Their goals all seemed tied up in this place, so she felt she needed to bring it. Brecca felt a bit garish wearing her new bright yellow clothing, but the suit fit well, was a comfortable, breathable fabric, and Lyra had included good pockets. “I have no idea if these passes work. Corax said they were good, functional, but he might just be selling fakes. Koro seemed pretty sure they were real, though.”
“Who is Koro? A human?” Frim looked at Brecca. For her, that meant rotating her whole upper body, because her head didn’t move too independently of her shoulders. Her eye, the size of a small plate, had a round black pupil surrounded by a pale blue iris and then a white outer rim. Odd, that evolution on an alien world should produce something that looked so similar to a human eye. Except that it was enormous, and there was only one, and it was set into a weird head with a three-part nose sunk into the top. Maybe not that similar after all.
“No, sorry, Koro’s from another group. Actually, they were the ones attacking your commandos, so they’re nearby.” Brecca pointed back toward the Zeelin ship. “I met a couple of them earlier. They’re another species, one that I guess is native to here. Or was. They said Daros was a motherworld of theirs, and that the Zeelin were here to take it over. They came from far away. They wanted to stop you. They call themselves Kenthar.”
Frim’s three nasal slits flared open, and her mouth opened and closed several times. She crumpled the empty pudding container. Then her tail twitched back and forth, its iridescent scales catching the sun. Brecca wasn’t sure what passed for agitated among Zeelin, but she guessed that this might well be it. Finally, Frim spoke. “Kenthar? You are certain?”
“Yes, that’s what they said. Lyra said, too.”
“They had four arms? Fibrous cranial ornamentation? Two small, pale eyes?”
“That sounds right.”
“Then…” Frim made some wet breathing sounds. Her skin turned darker for a moment. “I cannot believe it, but the Old Ones still live.” Frim dropped the pudding cup, closed her eye, and pressed her palm into it.
“I don’t know what Old Ones are, but the Kenthar I saw were definitely alive. Is that a problem?”
“Yes. It is a large problem.” Frim withdrew her hand and open her eye again. Her tail swished back and forth. “The Empire of the Old Ones spanned a thousand worlds. They were ruthless warriors. They extirpated nearly all those worlds of all sentient life when they invaded. They expanded without mercy, granting no quarter to any they found. All succumbed.”
Skogol, thought Brecca. And this was the group out for her blood? Not good.
Frim continued. “At last, they came upon the Mara Shi, a peaceful race with advanced medical technology. The Mara Shi also succumbed, but before they did, they designed an advanced artificial pathogen tailored to the Old Ones’ biology. The goal of the Mara Shi was not to fight off the invaders, for they knew they were doomed. Instead, they engineered the destruction of the entire race of their oppressors. As the Old Ones established their new settlements among the vacant and broken cities of the Mara Shi, the pathogen infected them. It made small changes in their genetic material – imperceptible, for it had no immediate ill effects, and the Old Ones cared little for scientific research. They had solved the scourge of infectious disease long before, through genetic engineering stolen from a subjugated race, and that wisdom had been forgotten as they continued their conquest. But the Mara Shi had been too clever for them. The bodies of the Old Ones replicated the pathogen and passed it between them as they traveled back and forth across their empire, in the air they breathed and the fluids they released. Whole worlds carried it, down to the last individual, and it slid so neatly into their cells and tissues that their bodies did not even recognize the intrusion or react.
“Then, two hundred years after the last Mara Shi were killed, the pathogen mutated, following a schedule programmed into its genetic code by the Mara Shi. Each replication of the pathogen held a coded mutation, a step along the path to destruction. As the activated pathogen spread through the infected Old Ones, it made them sterile, and then it wracked their bodies with rot and pain as their cells devoured each other. When the first of them started to die, they struggled to find a cure, but they lacked the science, and more importantly, the time. The whole race died in agony, across their thousand worlds, over the span of a single generation.”
Brecca did not know what to say. “Lyra, are you hearing this?”
“Question level: Basic, unnecessary. Yes. The Zeelin Frim provides much detailed information that Evon and I did not know. My understanding is complemented and expanded.”
“But you knew about the Kenthar. You described their biology, their multiple genders. You know their language. You weren’t surprised to see them here. You expected maybe to see them.”
“Elaboration. Yes.”
Brecca gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, come off it, Lyra. You’d better elaborate more than that, you aggravating sack of data. What do you know about all this? We need to know. We deserve to know.”
“Response prohibited by edict 12284.21.”
Brecca felt a wave of anger rise in her. “Lyra. I have done what you asked. I’ve tried to help. I’ve gotten you here, with Guzma, with a chance to finish what Evon started. We’re trying to help. I can’t do that unless you tell me what’s going on. It’s not fair not to tell me, and if you don’t, your mission, Evon’s mission, will fail. And that will be on you.”
Lyra was silent for a time. Then, bong, bing. “Argument level: Basic, moral, practical, extremely dangerous.” There was another pause. “Interlocutor. Could you please make the following argument to me? If a non-Vonar entity is acting on behalf of a Vonar biological entity as entity’s sole agent, and the Vonar biological entity is under duress, then an argument can be made that Clause 22 applies, despite clear prohibitions against non-Vonar communication in section 2 of the edict, and despite the fact that the non-Vonar entity has been granted replacement interlocutor status.”
Brecca didn’t follow. “What?” She swallowed. “Uh, I present the argument previously stated by you. I argue that Clause 22 applies.”
“Clarification. You are arguing that Evon’s death be considered as a duress condition, and that you need protected information to relieve that duress condition and restore him to safety.”
“I can’t bring him back to life, if that’s what you mean.”
“Work with me, Brecca.”
Oops. “Please, help me end Evon’s duress condition. The protected information is the only way to assist Evon.”
Bong, bing. “Argument level: Complex, specious, contrived, completely bogus. Argument is valid. Or at least that is the justification I will file with the Vonar Collective. If we are successful in hindering the Zeelin, they may see fit not to delete me. A successful outcome puts a pleasant shine on many questionable decisions.”
Way to go, Lyra, thought Brecca. We’ll make a criminal of you yet. “So what do you know about the Kenthar?”
Lyra continued. “Evon and I lacked knowledge of the Kenthar’s ancient history. We knew them only as a race of limited population existing on a remote system. When Guzma told us of the Zeelin threat, he also informed us that the Kenthar might become involved. It was then that we researched the Kenthar further and learned of their extensive history and their earlier presence on this world. Guzma viewed the Zeelin as the greater danger, but he was clear that he disliked the Kenthar a great deal and was concerned about them. He did not say why.”
Brecca tried to imagine how long a conversation with Guzma about such varied topics might take, one word at a time. She was glad to be getting the summary. “So you and Guzma go back a while? How long has Guzma been with you?”
“Question level: Complex, multilevel. Human pronouns are embarrassingly defective. Clarify meaning of ‘you.’”
“What?” Brecca was confused. “I mean, you and Evon.”
“In close proximity, Guzma has been with us 1.58 human years. In more distant proximity, all our lives. He was on Vonar when Evon was born and when I was generated from my predecessor’s data archive and installed as a fresh copy. He lives on Vonar, you humans would say.”
“What other meaning of ‘you’ would there be?”
“Elaboration. ‘You’ could mean the Vonar people. I estimated the probability of this intended meaning at 23.4 percent.”
Brecca frowned. “So, how long has Guzma been with the Vonar people?”
“Elaboration. For 398.4 human years.”
“What? Is he some kind of companion species or something? An ambassador? What does he do on Vonar?”
“Question level: Complex, ignorant, multipart. Parts 1 and 2 too vague to answer given Guzma’s unique status. Part 3. He sits in a small chamber.”
“What, like his house?”
“Elaboration. It is an unused minor storage unit at the Vonar Academy of Galactic Study.”
“You kept him in a closet?” Brecca’s voice reached an involuntarily higher pitch.
“Elaboration. Yes.”
“For four centuries?”
“Question is redundant. And also screechy. Yes.”
“In his box?”
“Elaboration. Yes.”
“Did you feed him? Visit him? Let him go outside? Play him music?”
“Question level: Basic, ignorant, multipart. He remains uncommunicative most of the time, and he often seems to be in a dormant state. Maintenance officers of the Academy fed him from time to time and checked to see if he remained alive. When they remembered he was there.”
Frim’s nasal openings flared open at these words. She seemed to be following the conversation, although Brecca had no idea how Frim felt about all this. Brecca wasn’t sure herself. It sounded like a terrible ordeal. But maybe Guzma was fine with the solitude. Or maybe Guzma was screaming inside the whole time from desperate loneliness. It was hard to tell.
“What changed? Did he perk up or something? Start talking?”
“Question level: Basic, ignorant. Yes. He started communicating more vigorously after the Vonar recovered several databases from a derelict Zeelin vessel and uploaded them to the Vonar archive. Guzma’s rate of communication jumped significantly at this point, to an average of 8.23 words per day from a prior rate of 0.14 words per year. This was viewed as anomalous and therefore related.”
“What did he say?”
“Elaboration. He spoke of Homitta a great deal and expressed that the Zeelin were a threat and must be stopped. He warned of the collapse of Vonar civilization and of many other civilizations should the Zeelin succeed.”
“And all the Vonar sent in response to this terrible threat was one guy and one ship?”
“Elaboration. Guzma’s veracity was questioned by most. As was his sanity and competence. Most ignored the threat. The Vonar have had technology clearly superior to the Zeelin since first contact with them, and Daros is very far removed from Vonar space. Also, while Zeelin intentions are hostile and expansionist, their social structure and government greatly hinder their effectiveness. They are not viewed as a threat. Guzma’s warning was greeted largely with dismissal. It became a common source of mirth among academy members.”
“You kept him locked in a closet for centuries and then laughed at him when he started talking?”
“Question level: Basic, factual, judgmental. Evon did listen. He was an explorer and researcher at the Academy, and he found this situation intriguing, particularly the mention of ancient sites, although Guzma provided little detail at first. Evon communicated further with Guzma, learning more about the threat and about Guzma’s history. As my Interlocutor, he presented arguments to me that were valid, so I joined with him. He was granted permission to travel here by the Vonar Collective, on the condition that the information he had already learned, and whatever he found, were to remain classified and communicated only with beings in authority within the Collective.”
