So, yes, Advisor Weiss’ remarkable, impassioned pleas had moved her deeply. They had evoked emotion, and she refused to believe that to feel emotion foreclosed rationality and logic, or that it had no role to play in the act of analysis and result.
In developing the Rasu Protocol, the other Guides had explicitly chosen life en masse at the expense of life individual, and today they appeared ready to continue on this course until there remained no individuals left to comprise an ‘en masse.’
She analyzed the factors in play:
• the seriousness of the threat the Rasu represented and the likely consequences of the Guides’ failure to comply with their demands;
• the virutox’ spread and unexpected mutations;
• the extraordinary reactions to it by Advisor Weiss, NOIR and others;
• the recent disappearance of Nika Kirumase and Advisor Ridani and the implications of their probable activities;
• the revelation that Nika Kirumase, once their most eloquent spokesperson and emissary, now led NOIR, their second-most-dangerous adversary, and the reality that she nonetheless had reached out to them seeking a path forward;
• finally and most troubling, the meta-response to each of these factors by her fellow Guides.
By balancing emotion, rationality and logic in a proportional manner, her analysis led her to a single, irrefutable result: if one of the factors was not altered or a new factor added, they were all going to die.
ADAPTIVE
OPTIMIZATION
17
* * *
WAYFARER
Asterion Dominion Space
“THE MIRAI ONE TRANSIT HUB blew up? The whole building?”
“Half a dozen of the surrounding buildings, too. Hundreds of people were atomized and thousands more damaged. But it gets worse.”
Nika shot Dashiel a pained look and sank onto the couch. He wasn’t the only one who felt as if they’d been careening from one disaster to the next for weeks that seemed like months. Reacting instead of acting…and here they were again. “How?”
“According to Adlai, the perpetrators were infected with the virutox.”
“Godsdam—no, you know what? This is not our doing. This is on them. On the Guides and the people who do their dirty work for them.”
He glowered at the wall, not looking remotely mollified.
She sent a ping to Perrin to find out if any of their people were damaged or worse in the explosion. Then she reached out, took his hand and coaxed him onto the couch beside her, and rested her head on his shoulder. “Knowing where the blame lies doesn’t help the people who lost all their tomorrows, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Is there a chance this will finally cause the Guides to see reason and end this madness?”
He wrapped his arms around her. “They abandoned reason five years ago when they decided keeping their secret was worth committing the ultimate sin by psyche-wiping you. I fear they’re too far down a dark path now to ever turn back.”
An alert flashed in her virtual vision, and she sat up straighter. “Maybe not.”
“What is it?”
“A message just came in to the nex address I gave the assassin on Ebisu to pass on to the Guides.”
“What does it say?”
She read the brief message a second time. “Not exactly what I was expecting it to say. ‘Watch the Eventime Solutions outpost on exploratory world SR114-Ichi.’ ”
“It’s appropriately Guide-vague. Still, it must be the next outpost scheduled to be nulled. But why would the Guides tell us that?”
Nika stood to pace within the confines of the cabin. “There’s no reason to assume the message is from all the Guides, and it’s not signed. It could be nothing, but one of the Guides voted against my psyche-wipe—or I think one did, if that’s what ‘Authorization: Alpha 4-1’ means.”
“It does.” He rubbed at his jaw. “Delacrai. Or possibly Anavosa, but my gut says Delacrai.”
“I recognize those are the names of two Guides, but otherwise, they mean nothing to me.”
“Sorry. While Anavosa is not deliberately cruel, Delacrai has on occasion displayed genuine kindness. If any of them didn’t approve of your psyche-wipe, it was Delacrai.”
She rested against the storage cabinet and tried to absorb the information…but she had no frame of reference through which to judge it. “Is this where I say, ‘then she was a coward, and she should have fought harder for me’?”
“Probably.” Dashiel stared at her, his eyes darkened by a sudden sorrow, before dropping his head into his hands. “But then again, so was I.”
Nika crossed the cabin and knelt in front of him. “What are you talking about?”
“I should have searched harder for you five years ago. I should have spent every credit to my name in a relentless quest to find you. I should have publicly confronted the Guides, in front of all the Advisors. I should have gone truly public and gotten your face plastered on every billboard. I should have never stopped searching.”
“Hey, hey….” She reached up and pulled one of his hands away so she could cup his cheek. “If you had tried to do those things, what are the odds the Guides would have swiftly shut you down, same as they did to me?”
“High. But you were, you are, worth any risk, and I was a coward for not taking every one of them.”
Desolation weighed down his voice, like stones dragging it inexorably to the bottom of a stygian sea. She took his other hand in hers. “But I’m here now.”
She got only a nod in response. She tried again. “How long have you been carrying this guilt around?”
“Since I stepped off a lift in my office and found you standing there pointing a Glaser at me. I’ve been waiting for you to figure out what a coward I’d been ever since.”
“Oh, darling, you can’t beat yourself up this way. If you’d gotten yourself psyche-wiped, who would’ve been left to show me who I was? To tell me what happened to me and help me discover…” she paused “…why are you smiling? I mean, I’m glad you are, but this is one hells of a rapid mood swing.”
He wound a hand into her hair and dropped his forehead to hers. “You called me ‘darling.’ It was your favorite endearment for me…before.”
“I know. Well, not necessarily the favorite part, but she—I—used it in the memory you showed me that first night. I must have internalized it.” She winced. “Is it all right for me to use it? Now?”
He huffed a breath. “Absolutely. But….”
“No more ‘buts.’ I demand that you forgive yourself. It’s a wonderful notion, you being so gallant and honorable on my behalf, but you realize—as I suspect you realized then—the Guides would have destroyed you for it. And I wouldn’t have wanted that, then or now.”
“I’ll…try. You not hating me for it should help.”
“Thank you.” She kissed him, then stood and went to get a glass of water. “Because this is the worst possible time for a crisis of conscience. We finally have a genuine lead, and we need to come up with a plan.”
He nodded slowly as he stared at her, his eyes swirling with lingering guilt and doubt for several seconds before he shook it off and stood as well. “SR114-Ichi.”
“We should warn Eventime Solutions so they can evacuate the outpost. Or alternatively, we can watch it covertly and follow whoever arrives when they leave.”
“We have to do the latter. If we warn the owner and they evacuate all their people, we’ll end up no closer to understanding what is happening than we are now.”
“But if we let those people be kidnapped, we’ll be willingly consigning them to…torture? Slavery? Final death? We don’t know to what, but it’s nothing good.”
“I realize it isn’t, and I don’t like it in the slightest. But saving them means consigning tens of thousands more to that fate.”
“Dammit.” She dragged her hands through her hair. “Surveillance it is. We’re covered for equipment on the ground. But
whoever’s handling the logistics is taking the victims somewhere, which means either mobile d-gates or a ship.”
“We’re going to need trackers.”
She chuckled; he was getting the hang of this rebellion business. “We have trackers, thanks to Perrin. But if they take the people anywhere other than a settled planet, we’re going to need stealth tech for our ship in order to follow them. Real stealth tech.”
“Which I’m guessing we don’t have installed.”
“Some minimal emission masking, but nothing robust.”
“What does ‘robust’ mean? Does true cloaking technology—something like a kamero filter—even exist for ships?”
She shrugged. “Surely mercenary ships use it?”
“Not really. I’ve had the odd cargo shipment boarded by mercenaries, and they usually just show up with big guns and demand the captain hand over what they want.”
“Huh.” She rubbed at her jaw. “You know who has the best stealth tech in the galaxy? The Taiyoks.”
18
* * *
WAYFARER
Asterion Dominion Space
NIKA,
I dislike this messaging system, as I have made you aware. However, if you cannot appear in person on Namino, so be it. I will cope with the discomfort.
I do not offer starship cloaking technology for sale, as there is no market for it among Asterions. Does it exist? Of course it does. On Toki’taku. Such devices are designed and built for Taiyok vessels, so I do not possess a high level of confidence that one will function correctly on an Asterion-designed starship. Perhaps it can be suitably adapted.
If you genuinely need such a device, I can provide a…referral, I believe is the Asterion word. Be warned, however: if you have never visited my homeworld, it can be a treacherous place for the naive and the uninformed. You know our ways better than many, but on our own world our ways are…I shall choose the word ‘harsher,’ as we tend to moderate our nature when Asterions outnumber us. Take due care.
—Xyche’ghael
Nika frowned. The Taiyoks had been allies of the Dominion for millennia. She had no doubt Toki’taku was alien, but how dangerous could it be?
She glanced at Dashiel. He stood at the kitchen unit, doing something incomprehensible to their dinner that he claimed would make it more flavorful. “Have you ever visited Toki’taku?”
“Only our embassy there. I’ve never ventured out beyond the grounds.” A corner of his mouth curled up. “You have, though, numerous times.”
“Shame I don’t remember, right? Xyche says we’ll need to go there for a cloaking device, and the knowledge could come in handy.” She chewed on her bottom lip…and decided it was worth a shot. “Come sit with me?”
“Of course.” He joined her on the couch wearing a questioning look. “What is it?”
“Bear with me for a minute. I want to try something.” She took his left hand in her right and splayed her palm against his, all the way to the fingertips, then closed her eyes.
The forest canopy blanketed the planet’s surface to every horizon. It wasn’t impermeable, for blotches of bronze and sage peeked out here and there, and I knew from my arrival on the planet that filtered sunlight reached the ground below. But the canopy gave the impression of forming a second, elevated surface overlaid atop the more solid terra firma.
In the foreground, the canopy sloped upward, culminating in a wide, flat apex. “Is that the Alcazar ahead?”
The escort on my left grunted in answer. The differences between a ‘yes’ grunt and a ‘no’ grunt were subtle, but I’d devoted extensive time and effort to learning such subtleties of Taiyoken, and this grunt meant ‘yes.’
My other escort didn’t respond. He exuded an air of silent concentration, as if piloting the carriage demanded all his attention. And, to the extent he flew it on a hair-trigger, prepared at any second to pitch it into a dive, fling me out, fly off and leave me to crash into the canopy if I made the wrong move, I supposed it did.
The apex loomed large as we neared it, and the sloping canopy soon rose up like a mountainside in front of us. I rigorously controlled my mannerisms and facial expressions to ensure the considerable tension I felt did not reach outward display. The Taiyoks were hyper-sensitive to body language; in many respects it played a larger role in their language than words did.
When the canopy became a wall in front of us, we plunged into it. Leaves brushed the sides of the carriage, but no limbs invaded to whip at our skin. The pilot expertly navigated through gaps in the foliage, shifting, dipping and rising along an unseen path.
Finally we slowed, and a landing pad materialized directly ahead of us. The carriage pivoted ninety degrees, plummeted twelve meters and settled onto the pad.
I breathed out quietly. A perfectly normal breath. “Thank you. I appreciate your skill in delivering me safely to the Alcazar.”
A wing-covered joint nudged into my right side. I took the hint and stood, then followed the first escort out of the carriage.
Four Taiyoks in ornate (for them) garments stood shoulder to shoulder on the landing pad. Each wore dual Taiyok pulse weapons at their hips, and I assumed needle blades were sheathed discreetly behind the powered weapons.
I brought my feet together, kept my hands at my sides and dipped my chin respectfully. “Greetings. I am Asterion Advisor Nika Kirumase, official emissary for the government of the Asterion Dominion. I arrive for an invited audience with the Elder.”
“You will follow.” The rightmost Taiyok unfurled a wing toward a spiral ramp winding around the largest tree trunk I had ever seen. He and the other three began ascending it, leaving no opportunity for gawking on my part, and I followed as instructed. I sensed additional Taiyoks falling in behind me. A security detail barely masquerading as an honor guard.
I could be flattered that they thought I warranted such extreme protective measures, but it wasn’t about me specifically. I was simply the first Asterion to visit the Alcazar, and the Taiyoks’ characteristic secretiveness demanded they take every precaution against one who most still viewed as an intruder.
The ramp circled the enormous tree a single time, but the journey took nearly five minutes. It ended at the entrance to a wide building of infused cedar built atop and among the highest branches. The doorway was a drape of ivy that parted as we approached.
I followed the quartet of guards through the doorway into a large, circular room. Elaborate artwork was etched into the walls like the scars of lightning streaks. Near the back of the room, two arcing tables framed an elevated perch. It reminded me a little of the Guides’ chamber on the Platform. The geometry and aesthetics of conveying relative power transcended species.
The tables were occupied by eight Taiyoks, but they weren’t important in these crucial initial moments. Who was important was the Taiyok standing proudly atop the perch at the center. Pure white feathers covered his skin and wings; the only colors to break the ivory palette were the reflective platinum of his eyes and a symbol painted in copper on each wing. A simple frock two shades grayer than the feathers clung tightly to his torso before flaring to fall at his knees. It lacked the ornamentation of the others’ attire, because he didn’t need ornamentation to proclaim his stature.
At twenty meters distance from the perch, just short of the closest edges of the tables, I came to a stop. The guards in front of me stepped to each side. I crouched low, left knee leading, right knee hovering centimeters above the floor, and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Elder Olchon’jhatere, I express honor at your indulgence in allowing me to come before you. I arrive bringing the good tidings of all Asterions and the authority to treaty, in the desire that our two peoples may form a lasting alliance.”
“Stand, Asterion. I acknowledge your clumsy mimicking of our traditions and accept them for the intent with which they were performed.”
High praise from the Taiyok Elder. I stood, but still didn’t engage in any dramatic gestures. “Any failings in
the presentation are my own.”
In my peripheral vision, I sensed not tens, but hundreds of Taiyok eyes on me. They glittered and flashed in the dim lighting and gleamed from the deeper shadows. Watching, ready to judge, eager to expel the outsider at the first offense.
This was not going to be easy.
Nika blinked, dizzy and disoriented. A palm and fingertips rested on Dashiel’s, and they were on the couch. On the Wayfarer.
“Are you all right?” Concern radiated from his expression and his voice.
She nodded weakly and dropped her hand to her lap. “Give me a second. It’s a bit of a rough transition.”
“From what? What just happened?”
She took a deep breath. If she shared her secret with him, there would be no going back, and one of the last protective walls she kept in place would crumble to dust. But she didn’t want to go back, and possibly she didn’t need the walls any longer. After all, her former self hadn’t merely loved him; she had trusted him with the record of her life. All her lives.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” She took his hand in hers once more, making sure to leave a slight gap this time. She needed to explain the rabbit hole, not fall through it. “When we open ourselves up to one another like this, I’ve been experiencing…memories. Not your memories, but mine, or rather those of my former self. And not solely ones belonging to Nika Kirumase. They span all the way back to the beginning. To the SAI Rebellion and a woman named Nicolette Hinotori and her bonded SAI, KIR.”
“How—wait, ‘KIR’?”
“I know. I assume the name was intended as a personal homage.”
His brow knotted up. “Okay. But I still don’t understand. I thought all your memories were gone.”
“So did I. I can’t say for certain, but I think my former self encrypted some of her memories, including ancestral ones. Maybe when she began to realize she was entering dangerous territory in her investigation, maybe earlier. I think she encrypted them then disguised them as different files and hid them away deep in her core programming, where they stood the best chance of surviving a psyche-wipe or an R&R. And I think she made you the decryption key.”
Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4) Page 40
