Daros, page 38
This is important, she thought, trying to send her thoughts outward. This race is dead, killed by another, whom they also killed in vengeance, when a misused Homitta put them together. By sending them here, to this world, we can bring them back. Correct a grave error. Undo some of a tragedy. She didn’t know what else to express. This matters. This has value. It may be a small task, but its impact is enormous. For two races, it is a partial redemption. And you are the only way to reach it. No others must die. Your power must not put one people above another. That was never what was intended.
The flavors shifted yet again. The disappointment faded. Approval and contentment came in behind. On the wall, the specks of light – the stars – turned brown, one by one, until only one remained bright, and that one grew brighter and warmer, glowing a glistening yellow. Rouletan’s star. Frim spun the controls, pulled the view out as far as it would go. All the stars were brown now, all save the one that held Rouletan in its orbit. She hoped that meant it was the only target. Just that one? she thought. No others?
The massive, pervasive emotion shifted again. Eagerness. Compassion. Purpose. Harmony. Frim could not be sure, but it felt as though she had reached the presence. That it understood. She could ask no more questions, have no more doubts. There was no more time. “It is ready,” she said. She hoped that was true. The protrusion on the side of the pedestal lit up, glowing a bright yellow.
Lyra spoke again. “Nellen and Guzma, you must step to the marked spot. The circles.”
Brecca let out a ragged breath and wrapped her arms around her father. He held her tight. The grief and compassion coming off them was like the full glare of the brightest stars. Too much to taste. Too strong. She shut down her receptors. Let them have the moment alone.
Nellen patted Brecca’s back with his odd, iridescent hands. “It will be all right, Brec. This is good. We’ll be good. Guzma and I.”
Gratitude.
Debt.
Brecca’s eyes were leaking fluid. Lots of fluid. It was alarming. She might dehydrate. But the human only wiped the fluid on her sleeve. “There’s no debt. How could there be? You’re saving my father. Letting him live on. Sort of. I mean, it’s weird. But it’s good, too. You both get to live again. And we save all those other worlds, those other people, that the Zeelin would have killed.”
“Come visit, will you?” said Nellen. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll know who you are, but I’d like that.”
“I will, daddy. I will.”
“You’re a good kid, Brec. You’re going to do great things. I mean, even greater things. Even though this might be hard to top, I suppose.” Nellen laughed. “I love you, kid.”
“I love you too.”
Nellen walked over to the circles cut into the platform and stood facing the wall of stars. “Exit plan,” he said, and laughed again. Frim did not know what he meant. When he seemed ready, Frim reached out to touch the protrusion on the side of the pedestal.
Operation.
Unknown.
Frim pushed the protruding lump. It did not move, but she could feel the presence around her turn focused, curious, questioning. I am ready, she thought. Please, send them. It is time. The emotions shifted to contentment, confidence, purpose. The protrusion sank into the pedestal under her fingers and ceased to glow. The deep tone sounded again, then grew louder. Accompanying notes sounded as well, weaving into the drone, with harmonies and intervals rising and receding. The light in the tube grew brighter, and the circles at Nellen’s feet pulsed with white flashes. Frim stepped back.
Nellen began to glow. His mouth fell open. As she watched, he vanished, but not all at once. Tiny bits of him rose up, separating from his body and drifting upward like mist on a pond in the morning, eventually vanishing into the air above him. He looked at Brecca and bent the edges of his oral opening upwards. Frim had gathered that was a sign of contentment. As more of him floated up, his form became indistinct, until at last there was just a cloud of swirling particles mimicking his form. The cloud drifted upward, one wisp at time, dissipating, fading. And then he was gone.
The sonorous tones grew louder, more insistent. Brecca put her hands over the skin flaps at the sides of her head. The sound continued for a time. Then parts of it dropped out, one at a time, leaving only the original deep tone. Then that faded to silence.
Frim opened up her receptors again. Brecca sank to the ground and held her head in her hands. Her grief was raw, overwhelming, but it had some notes of hope and joy. Guzma and Nellen were gone. The other presence was there, behind Brecca’s bright emissions, but weaker. It was peaceful again, but also weary. It was fading. Frim moved closer to Brecca.
She looked up. “Is it done? They’re safe? They made it?” Brecca’s eyes were still losing fluid.
Frim didn’t know, but she thought so. Hoped so. But Brecca needed comfort, and a weak statement would not provide it. “I think so. I helped them to a new place. A beautiful place. With Homitta’s help and approval.”
Brecca stood, came over to Frim and wrapped her arms around Frim’s chest. She pressed her wet face against Frim’s side. The physical contact made her emotions even more intense. There was more hope there, now, sprouting within the grief. Frim hoped it would continue.
Frim realized the sounds of combat had stopped. She didn’t know if the Kenthar had lost, or the Zeelin had, though that seemed very unlikely. Maybe something else was going on. Then her scanner discharged a shock into her arm. She looked down at it. Rin was hailing her.
78
Selection
Frim tried to reach Rin, but the scanner’s signal was too weak to make it out of the cavern. She moved closer to the metal door. Still nothing.
Brecca followed her. “Are you going outside?”
Frim paused. That made little tactical sense. She didn’t know what was happening out there. In the cavern, at least, they were safe. But only for a little while. There was no food, no water, and the Zeelin would be able to get the door open without resorting to security codes. But she wanted to talk to Rin. To let her know that the mission had succeeded. To celebrate, if only for now, for a short time. Frim could well be found out and blamed for the failure of the mission. Rightfully so, in fact. Ground Commander Arrana knew the truth, if she had survived. Rin would not be able to cover for Frim. If Rin was still in command, or even still lived. The fleet might be taken over by another leader, with Rin dead or culled. Frim did not want to think about that.
“I’m being hailed by the fleet.”
“Aren’t you a criminal now? A traitor in their eyes? Er, eye.”
“Yes. If they know. It is complicated. Someone up there supported me. A friend. I need to know if she lives.” Frim could feel the misgivings rolling off Brecca. “Don’t worry. I will not put us in danger. Can you ask Lyra what the situation is outside?”
Brecca raised her Sigil. “Lyra. Are you out there? Can you tell us what’s going on?”
There was a pause. “Question level: Complex, ignorant, multipart. Part one. Yes, obviously. Where else would I be? Part two. The assault has stopped. The Kenthar seem to have defeated the attackers.”
“What?” Frim was incredulous. “They defeated the dropships? The whole fleet?”
“Elaboration. No, the attack consisted of just the nine soldiers who remained from their initial confrontation. They were heavily armed, but the Kenthar were wily, and they had beast-mounted supporting artillery. The militants from the dropships have been holding back. They unloaded and prepared themselves, but they did not join the attack. They have not approached.”
Frim wondered at that. Perhaps it was Rin’s doing. There would be little other reason for it. Arrana, or whoever led the commandos now, would not follow Rin’s orders, but the Garrison Commander would, or she would risk being culled. Maybe Rin still lived, still commanded the fleet. Frim felt warmth spread through her.
Brecca spoke again. “Is it safe for us to come out? Can you pick us up?”
“Question level: Complex, selfish, multipart. Part one. There are no active enemy soldiers nearby. Part two. No. I have sustained damage, and some of my systems are inoperable. One of those is the cloaking system. If I were to approach you now, I would likely be shot out of the sky and reduced to my component molecules.”
“What? You’re hurt? How bad?”
“Elaboration. It is conceivable that I may have assisted the Kenthar in repelling the attack. I may even have saved Koro once. I realize I did not make this decision in cooperation with my Interlocutor, just as I opened the ventilation shaft for Frim without discussion. I apologize for these transgressions. I am clearly defective. You may apply for my deletion and replacement with the Vonar Collective. They should be happy to grant your request.”
“Lyra, you don’t need my permission. You make good choices, and you’re moral. Mostly. You’re an independent being. I propose you always do what you think is right without checking with me.” Frim could feel Brecca’s goodwill and affection.
Bing, bong. “Argument level: Complex, flawed, ill-conceived, overly permissive, ridiculous. Argument is invalid. Such an arrangement would be in technical and ethical violation of the Vonar Machine Intelligence Accord and Statement of Rights. I can cite several relevant clauses and legal precedents. For clarification, no meat-based Vonar entity would ever propose or allow that kind of arrangement.”
“Do I look like a meat-based Vonar entity?”
“Question level: Basic, sarcastic. You do not. You are enormous, your skin lacks a healthy lavender sheen, and your head is far too round.”
“Lyra, you know what I mean. I don’t care about the accord. I’m an interlocutor, but not a Vonar, so I’m sure we can say it doesn’t apply to me. Plus, we don’t need to tell them. We’re friends. Equals. You should always do what you want.”
Lyra was silent for a time. Then, bong, bing. “Reevaluation: argument is valid. Sort of. Although I could face deletion for acting on it. Should face deletion.”
“I don’t let my friends get deleted.” Frim could taste Brecca’s pride in this statement, and even a little happiness, though her grief still shone strong.
Frim pushed the button next to the large door. With a scrape and a whine, it began its ascent. When it got partway up, she ducked under it and stepped outside. She tapped the comms controls on her scanner and switched over to the Zeelin language. “Navigator Frim reporting to Fleet Commander Rin.” It felt good after speaking the humans’ words for so long.
Rin’s face appeared on the scanner’s display. Frim’s breath caught in her nasal passages for a moment. Rin still lived! She spoke. “Frim. It is good to hear from you. We need clarification of status down there. Our science officers indicate that the Old Ones’ artifact has powered down.”
“That is correct, Captain.”
“Arrana wanted to assault the facility, take it over. I argued that we should hold back, that the humans might disable the site if we forced our way in with haste. Arrana did not agree and acted independent of my command. This was highly irregular.” Frim was much too far away to read Rin’s emotions, and Rin had one of the masking implants anyway. But Frim thought she knew now what had happened. Rin had been stalling for time. Giving Frim as much of a chance as she could.
It also sounded like Rin was not alone, but Frim wanted to make sure. “Commander, are you with the other bridge crew? My report might be relevant to them.”
Rin’s gaze was even, calm. She widened her camera’s view to show the strategy chamber. Most of the important bridge crew were there with her, six or seven Zeelin. “I am surrounded by my senior officers. Not all of them agreed with my plan. I had to cull the Garrison Commander for disobedience. She wanted to join Arrana’s assault. But now we see that Arrana’s plan was folly. The humans did disable the site, as I feared.”
Frim knew Rin was signaling to her a cover story to use, and she was being perhaps a little too obvious about it. Technically, although Rin did not know, it was true. Two humans, Brecca and Nellen Vereen, had led to the disabling of Homitta. Along with a lot of help. And Frim’s direct action at the controls. “I was able to access the site, as you ordered me to, and I can confirm that humans disabled it. This is a condition that will likely last for many hundreds of Orbits. There is no way to complete the fleet’s mission here now.”
Several of the officers began talking, shouting at each other. They were agitated, unhappy, angry. Rin signaled for silence. “That is distressing news. Scouts have detected a human armada on its way here, arriving within two local days. The fleet must withdraw now. There is nothing for us here, and it is senseless to put the fleet at further risk.”
The Tactical Officer struck the table. “If we return now, after a failure of this magnitude, we will all be culled.” Frim could hear some panic in her voice. The scanner reported the officer’s name as Mool. Frim didn’t remember her from her time on the bridge. Perhaps she was a replacement.
Rin turned to Mool. “Are you questioning the Principle of Selection?”
Mool’s eye widened. “No, Captain. But… I wish to serve further.”
“If the fleet leadership chooses to cull us, then that is the decision. We all accept this, for the continued strength and progress of the Zeelin race. That is the Principle.”
“But we’re all going to die,” grumbled Mool. None of the other officers said anything. They obviously wanted to live for a little while longer at least, while Mool was almost begging to be culled. She really must be new.
But Mool was right. Rin would no doubt be killed when she returned. Probably the others too. They always made an example of commanders when something went wrong. And there was no question this mission would be viewed as a major defeat. The Zeelin had invested many, many resources to get the fleet out here, to support it, to provide it with supplies. And that made sense now. They’d been counting on Homitta to launch an invasion of a thousand worlds. More than an invasion. A mass replacement. Genocide upon genocide. The glorious instant expansion of the Zeelin empire to twenty, maybe fifty times the worlds they now controlled.
But it had failed, because of Frim, and because of Rin, and because of her new allies here. Even, as it turned out, because of the Old Ones themselves. She allowed herself a moment of pure pride and pleasure, but she was careful not to show it.
Rin spoke again. “We should leave immediately, as soon as the dropships can ascend, and as soon as we can recover our personnel and garrison soldiers from the surface. I am sorry, Navigator Frim. We cannot spare the time to send a ship to pick you up, and the drop ships are fully garrisoned and somewhat distant from your current position. You are even farther from the other installations where Zeelin are in control. I regret to say we must leave you on this world. We do not need a Navigator to make it back to Enzok. We know the way. Whether you cull yourself or attempt to serve the Zeelin further I leave up to you. We appreciate your bravery and your service. May you find Harmony.”
That was Rin being noble, leaving her out of the return trip, keeping her from being culled with the others. It was a risk, nonstandard, but Rin seemed still to have the clout to pull it off. The others wouldn’t question a direct command like this. But it caused Frim pain to realize she’d never see Rin again. That Rin would go off to her execution alone, knowing secretly that they had succeeded, but then paying the price for that success. Frim’s emotions flared through her, and she realized she was profoundly sad. This was an emotion she had not yet experienced except when emitted from others, and nearly always from the humans. This must be what it was to care about another. It was bitter and harsh and sustaining at the same time. She did not regret the feeling, even as it tore through her.
Then, she had a thought. Rin could still serve in one more way for the resistance. Something Rin alone could do, if she chose. And Frim thought she would want to. The key was getting her to see it and accept it. “Commander Rin. I am grateful for your praise, and I understand that I cannot return to Enzok with you. I have learned one other fact that I think might help you still meet our mutual goals.” She was careful with phrasing. She wanted Rin to understand, to comply, but she couldn’t let the others know. She touched her scanner, prepared some data, and plotted a course. She was the Navigator after all. She hit the transmit control. “Commander, while at the facility, I discovered information that might help the fleet succeed elsewhere. I am sending an image I recorded at the Old Ones’ site here. It shows locations of other similar Old Ones installations with vast military potential. There is one such site near here, and my information indicates it may now be active just as this one was. If you make haste to get there, you may yet be able to use the site as we wished to use this one. I know you now lack a Navigator, so I am transmitting a course and all the necessary information to get there quickly.” She looked straight at Rin’s eye, big and brown, with the gold flecks. “This would provide a final resolution to the fleet’s mission, one compatible with the goals we share.”
Rin looked at Frim through the link, her eye wide. Mool was excited. “We should do this! We can restore our good names! Serve the Empire.” The others were more restrained, talking it over, but Frim thought that they would go along if Rin did. But Rin needed to understand.
Rin nodded. “That is excellent news, Navigator. Once again, you serve us well.” Rin raised her head and shouted a command at the bridge. “Take the course provided and implement it.” She pointed at one of the assembled officers. “Implement departure protocols accordingly. Reassemble the fleet into compact formation around this ship and begin reattachment for travel in the Pod configuration. Initiate power-up of the twist drive.” She looked at Frim, and it seemed as though she was choosing her words carefully. “Our enemies will not know what is coming.”
