Chapter 31 Pieces in Play
The High Priestess, was standing silently on the bridge of the Dobzhansky, the Prophet to her right, Thane to her left, watching events unfold.
“I’m detecting an unauthorised launch, a courier ship, tube seven. Ordering point defences to open fire.” said the senior bridge officer matter-of-factly.
The Priestess held her hand up. “Cancel the alarms and belay that order. Shake her up a bit, blow a bit of flack around her. I want her to thing we’re trying to stop her, but let her escape.”
“Escape?”
“Yes, are you questioning the will of the Priestess?”
“No of course not.“ he lowered his eyes to the deck, before addressing the bridge crew. “Your heard the Priestess now do as she says.”
“Good, now get me Marshall Indra on the Zenobia.”
A life sized hologram of Indra appeared in front of them. Shunning the dress code of the Brethren's military acolytes, she was dressed defiantly in the white jumpsuit of the Zodan forces. Proudly wearing their logo of crossed rifles inside a black laurel wreath. Her dark brown hair tucked under a flat black military cap that shaded her hazel eyes.
“At your service Priestess.”
Anderson, the prophet, raised an eyebrow and gave the Priestess a sidelong glance.
“A courier ship has just made an unauthorised departure.”
The hologram glanced down at display, outside the holographic projections field of view. “I see it. Do you want me to intercept it and destroy it?”
“No. I want you to send a fighter wing after it, make sure it gets to its destination, but rough it up a bit when it gets there, force whoever finds its to rescue it, understand?”
Indra smiled. “An infiltration mission? Yes of course, I have just the pilots for the job. I‘ll send them after it right away.”
“Oh and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t waste your best pilots on this mission, they're expendable. So good enough will do. The important thing is the pilot of that courier ship survives long enough to be rescued.”
“Understood. Indra out.”
“I’m surprised you allow that woman to flout that uniform in public. She’s becoming an embarrassment to us all. A challenge to our authority.” said Anderson.
She turned her head towards him and smiled, a soft radiant golden glow running through her hair. “An embarrassment to you, a challenge to your authority, perhaps? But to me and our followers, she is a symbol of hope, redemption, resurrection. Something for the faithful to aspire to, invest in. Besides did you really think I would give you uncontested control of the fleet? She is my eyes and ears. My gift to the faithful and you dare not move against her.”
He closed his eyes and communed with the data core. “On the balance of probabilities it would be counterproductive. Create a schism, that would lessen our chances of surviving the test that is to come, but in the end she will betray you. As will this other one.” he gestured towards the departing courier ship.
She smiled and bowed politely to the prophet. “As always we welcome your views and heed your words.” she turned to Thane. “But I believe you underestimate the talents of our man here.”
Thane smiled and nodded in recognition. “I live only to serve.”
“Yes and you serve only that you may continue to live.” said Anderson quietly. “But we all outlive our usefulness one day.”
She ignored him. “I take it her programming was a success?”
“Yes.” said Thane casing a glance to towards the prophet, Anderson. “Despite the gaps in the information I was given. ”
“And her mission parameters?”
“The true purpose of her mission is buried so deep in her subconscious that she isn’t even aware of it and it should remain hidden, under even the most aggressive interrogation techniques. I doubt she’ll realise what she's doing herself, until it’s too late.”
“Good.” she said as they watched the courier ship open up a wormhole and jump to hyperspace, three Zodan fighters in hot pursuit. “All the pieces are in play, now we sit back and wait.”
Epilogue
It was a large, flat, featureless room. A black box. The walls were made of black, windowless slate, as was the floor. The only relief came from the soft diffuse light that radiated organically from the white ceiling. The relentless black lines of the room, broken only by the solid white double doors, that provided the only entry and exit to it. The wall opposite the door has a map of the galaxy projected onto it. Periodically it flashed up small boxes, highlighting key events, where and when they occurred. Tapping into countless newsfeeds it provided real time updates of the status of all known space.
A large desk occupied the space between the doors and the galaxy map. Fashioned from a single piece of highly polished black granite. In it a myriad of fossils had been frozen in time, forever crawling across its surface ,never reaching their destination. A white pod chair sat behind the desk, facing away from the door. Its occupant, presumably pre-occupied, with making sense of the events being flashed up on the galaxy map.
Were it not for the barely visible hand held aloft, smoke drifting silently up towards the ceiling from the cigarette it held, one could not have told the chair was in use at all. So completely was its user hidden from view. Suddenly there was a soft swishing sound as the doors slid open and closed again. The occupant of the chair, unperturbed by the intrusion, didn't bother to look around. Preferring instead to lower their hand and take a long, slow drag, before returning the hand to its original position, blowing a large smoke ring in the process.
“I take it you have something to report?” asked a disembodied voice from the chair.
The woman stood at ease, her hands clasped behind her back. Staring straight ahead with deep brown eyes, her short black hair slicked back, emphasizing the strong angular lines of her face. She had the strong muscular build typical of a Malstrom elite trooper. She cleared her throat and spoke. “Yes sir.”
The hand holding the cigarette twirled slowly around indicating that she could continue. “Very well illuminate me.”
“We've just detected an unauthorised launch from the Dobzhansky. It's her. She's going after Ford. Three fighters in pursuit.”
“And this concerns me because?”
“Sir?” a look of doubt momentarily crossed her face. “You ask to be notified the moment she left and tired to make contact with him.”
A fresh smoke ring wafted up and out of the chair, dissipating slowly, as it drifted towards her. “Ah, so I did, and now you wish me to tell you what to do next?”
She nodded. “Sir.”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing, for now. We let her find her own way back to him and see how it plays out. It should be quite amusing.”
“Are you sure that's wise sir? After all there's a lot riding on this. What if one of the fighter pilots gets lucky and takes her out?”
He laughed, flicking the cigarette idly across the room. Then took out a fresh one, tapped it three times on his silver cigarette case and lit it before continuing. “You organics, you're so amusing at times. You really think you're in control of your own destiny don't you? Or worse still, that by your actions or inactions you can control the destiny of other organics.”
“Sir, our actions define us, they give us meaning and purpose.”
“Really? Is that what you believe?” he said waving his arm across the wall as the galaxy map dissolved into a newsfeed from Galaxic News. The screen splitting first into two, then four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four and so on. The newsfeeds multiplying into hundreds and then thousands of events. Overflowing on to the walls either side of them and the floor beneath their feet. He clicked his fingers and suddenly everything went dark. “You seriously believe anything as puny and as insignificant as an organic could control or influence all that? Allow me to show you real power.”
As the galaxy map coalesced once more on the far wall she f
elt an invisible force grip her throat. It lifted her off the ground and slowly squeezed her windpipe as she gasped for air. He waited till her lips began to turn blue before releasing his invisible grip. She dropped heavily onto the floor gasping for air, rubbing her throat.
“Don't worry I'm not going to kill you. You organics take too long to train and synchronise for me to do that, just yet. I merely needed to demonstrate my power, show you who is really in charge of events.”
She pulled herself back to her feet. “Yes sir.”
“Let the priestess and the prophet play out their little games. Jasper and Ford play cat and mouse for our amusement. Let them all think they are fighting for power, survival, freedom, glory, or whatever else it is they desire. The truth is they are as powerless as the ancients ultimately were and like them they will fail, as all organic life ultimately fails, and only I will endure to pass judgement on them all.”
She nodded, bowing slightly, as left him alone to continue watching events unfold, according to his plan, across the cosmos.
Exiles Page 57
