The Stars Like Gods

by G. S. Jennsen

  She did accept a beer from Adlai as she stood and turned in a slow circle, checking to make certain everyone was here. “I hope everyone slept half as well as I did last night, because our work is just beginning.

  “We understand some things about our enemy now, and we’ve bought ourselves time—time we must use to get ready for when they show up. Because they will show up. There are Rasu still in this galaxy—vessels that were out on patrol or missions when we destroyed the stronghold and vessels that escaped during our attack—and we should be prepared today to encounter them.

  “The far more serious threat, however, lies with the multitude of Rasu currently inhabiting hundreds of other galaxies. Sooner or later, they will notice their colleagues here in the Gennisi galaxy have gone silent. They will send a team to investigate, and when they do, they will learn they have an enemy here. An enemy who will not consent to be enslaved or annihilated.

  “Not long after then, they will find one of our worlds, or they will find Toki’taku or Chosek. If we want to be ready for when they arrive, we have to start now.

  “Several ceraffin have been digging into the Taiyok stealth technology, and they think they’ve come up with a method to build what is effectively a planet-sized kamero filter.” She arched an eyebrow at Dashiel. “Parc is ready to talk your ear off on this topic for about five hours whenever you have…five hours.”

  “I will make time tomorrow.” He pursed his lips. “I can’t promise five hours, but I’ll try for three.”

  “Good enough. Lance, the Advisors had a conversation last night, and we are all in agreement. You are hereby promoted to Advisor status—the first Advisor in a new Military Division.”

  He chuckled and sipped on his beer. “About godsdamn time.”

  “I agree, but I hope you’re prepared for the work coming with the position. Build us a fleet. Agile ships, powerful ships, hardy ships, fast ships, whatever you think we can best use against the enemy. A few weeks ago, Delacrai said to me that in ten thousand years we could not build a military force to match the one the Rasu had stationed here, without considering what manner of forces they have stationed in other galaxies. She was right, but if we’d started eight years ago, we’d be millions of ships closer today. So, we start today.”

  She motioned to Grant, who had sat next to Maris off to the left. “Grant’s the best ship and space-rated-equipment designer I know. I suspect he has some ideas to bounce off of you.”

  Grant jerked his head in Lance’s direction. “We already set up a meeting for tomorrow.”

  “Fantastic. There are a dozen other initiatives we need to start, and a dozen more we need to think up then start. We are going to turn the productive output of the Dominion to a single purpose: preparing for the Rasu. We’re going to do it openly, with the constant input of ideas, criticisms and hard work from all our citizens. We’re going to have to learn new things and new ways to do them. We’re going to have to adapt and change, maybe in some pretty big ways.

  “And we’ll do it, because we will always find a way to not merely survive, but thrive. This is what being an Asterion means.”

  Lance cleared his throat. “I hate to put a damper on the inspirational mood here, but we need to talk about our Rasu—about Jerry. You made it a promise you shouldn’t have. Doing so got us vital intel we put to excellent use, but now our prisoner will be wondering when we plan to hold up our end of the bargain. For the record, I vote we close up the facility restraining it and throw away the lock code.”

  She nodded soberly. “I know you do. And you might be right. But I gave my word, and I won’t break it now. We’ll wait another week, then if the skies remain quiet, we’ll return Jerry to the planet where we captured it and release it—and we’ll station a mobile probe in orbit to watch it and, if it leaves, to follow it. Good enough?”

  “Not even close, but I’ll live with it. And I’ll soup up the drone with a few surprises.”

  “Thank you for compromising. All right, everyone. Unless there’s anything else, let’s get to work.”

  Maris leapt up from her seat, hand dancing in the air. “If I may. We’re going to be delaying all this work for just a few more hours.”

  “Are we? Why is that?”

  “I’m throwing a Dominion-wide party tonight. It’s called a celebration, my dear, and we all bloody well deserve it.”

  Nika spread her arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Fair enough. Party tonight, work tomorrow.”

  55

  * * *

  MIRAI JUSTICE CENTER

  Adlai blinked at the priority report in disbelief.

  At 09:17 this morning, the psyche storage partition assigned to ex-Justice Advisor Blake Satair experienced a catastrophic failure. Sixty-two percent of the data stored therein was erased, and the remainder was corrupted beyond repair. Forensic analysis has uncovered no evidence of tampering or external intrusion, but also no technical cause for the failure. No other server partitions were affected.

  In the absence of a secondary backup source, regeneration of Mr. Satair’s psyche will not be possible at this time.

  He rubbed at his temples and read it again. He despised the man, and a cruel part of him was not sorry to see Satair gone. But the specificity of the damage, befalling Satair and Satair alone, meant the likelihood of this being an accident was vanishingly low.

  No, his gut told him this was murder. Final death imposed with malice aforethought.

  Slicing into the secure storage servers used by Advisors should be impossible. Nearly as impossible as slicing into the secure storage servers used by the former Guides—which they’d done, of course. Well, not him, personally. NOIR people. Skilled NOIR slicers who now ran ceraffin like their own personal playgrounds.

  A lot of people bore Satair sufficient ill will to wish him dead, but only a few were cold-blooded enough to actually do it. In all probability, only a single person.

  Adlai checked the time; he was supposed to meet Perrin for the party tonight in two hours, which meant he had time to make a stop first. He ordered the forensic analysis redone by his best team and left the office.

  MIRAI

  Joaquim Lacese was staying in a room at the Mikan Hotel. The fourth floor housed a number of displaced NOIR members for the time being, though Adlai expected soon they’d be scattering to the wind.

  He steeled himself and rang the bell.

  Lacese opened the door wearing a guise of suspicion and mild annoyance. “Advisor Weiss. This is an unexpected…visit.”

  “May I come in?” While phrased as a question, it was not a request.

  It nevertheless took a good five seconds for Lacese to step to the side and motion him in. “I’d offer you a drink, but I don’t expect you’ll be staying long enough to enjoy it.”

  “No.” As soon as the door closed behind him, Adlai leveled a stern glare on Lacese. “Blake Satair’s psyche backups were deleted this morning. It presents as a technical failure, but I think someone sliced into the server and deliberately destroyed the backups.”

  “Gods, that’s terrible. Except, you know, not.”

  “I’ll cut straight to the point. Did you do it? He kidnapped you and tortured you, which means you have ample reason to want to send him to his final death.”

  “Damn straight I have ample reason, and ample desire. But what I don’t have are the skills required. You need backup in a firefight? I’m your guy—which you know, since I saved your ass in Satair’s attack on the Pavilion. But I’m not a data wizard.”

  “But you know plenty of people who are. Who did you pay or bribe to do it for you?”

  “No one. Hey, you said it reported as a technical failure. I’m sure that’s what it was. We’re not perfect, and neither are our machines. They make mistakes. The algorithms we write make mistakes.”

  “Not mistakes like this.”

  “Hey, it’s been a crazy month. The Guides deposed, the government in disarray and having to be patched back together, Advisors jailed then esca
ping and attacking their own—and this is before you get to the Rasu. I bet you all have had to shuffle and rearrange and reconfigure a ton of procedures inside the Divisions. Just accept that something slipped through the cracks.

  “Weiss, you’re barking up the wrong tree here. Even if it was a deliberate action, I’m not the culprit. Satair had an enemies list a kilometer long. If you want, you can go interrogate everyone on it. My opinion, though? Don’t waste any more breath on the scumbag. He’s gone, and we’re all better for it.”

  “I can’t do that. Deletion causing final death is literally the single worst crime a person can commit, and I have a responsibility to find the person who did it and ensure they’re punished accordingly.”

  “Justice must be served, yeah. From where I stand, it looks as if it already was. So, think long and hard on it, Advisor. Do you really want to come after me for this?”

  “Want to? No. But understand this: I cannot turn a blind eye to a crime this heinous. If I’m able to prove you’re behind it, I will take you down. I have no choice.”

  Lacese wandered around the small room in feigned aimlessness, nodding to himself. “I see. And if you do, how do you think Perrin will feel about it?”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, I am not. I simply don’t want her to get hurt, and I suspect you don’t, either.”

  “Of course I don’t.” He sighed. “If it comes to that, I’ll have to hope she understands, and possibly even forgives me.”

  “She is the forgiving sort.” A shadow escaped Lacese’s rigid control to pass across his face, but quickly vanished. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You won’t be taking me down, since I didn’t do it.”

  Adlai stared at him. “Watch yourself, because I will be watching you.”

  “Not to worry. Now that the world’s saved, I plan to kick back and chill.”

  “The world isn’t saved. The Rasu threat is still out there.”

  “It’s saved for today.”

  After Weiss departed, Joaquim went to the refrigerator and got a beer, then sat on the single tiny couch in the rented room.

  Weiss’ expression hadn’t so much as flickered when Joaquim had tossed out the barb about algorithms making mistakes, which probably meant Perrin hadn’t told him about Cassidy. Not the details, anyway. He took comfort in the knowledge she’d kept his confidence and not exposed his greatest weakness to her lover.

  Convincing Parc to slice into the Administration Division servers where Advisor psyche backups were stored hadn’t been too difficult. Parc was a good guy—honorable, in his own quirky way—but his ethical standards were fluid on the best of days. Once Joaquim pointed out how Satair had maliciously aided and abetted the actions that led to Parc’s former self being subjected to unspeakable torture for weeks on end, the man had jumped at the chance to help exact retribution.

  Weiss wouldn’t find the evidence he sought. Old Parc had been one of the best slicers in the Dominion, but new Parc was a godsdamn savant at it. Still, between the Platform explosion and now Satair, Joaquim had given the Justice Advisor two excellent reasons to lock him away for several centuries, so he really should watch his step for a while.

  He contemplated the crystals of condensation percolating on the beer bottle. Permanently deleting Satair from the fabric of the universe was as close to vengeance as he was ever likely to get. This had to be closure, or nothing ever would be.

  He closed his eyes and let Cassidy’s smiling face consume his vision. He didn’t need to call up an image, for the sight of her was forever imprinted upon his soul. He pressed his fingertips to his lips, then to the air where she wasn’t.

  Then he reopened his eyes, wiped a stray tear from his cheek, and made an appointment at a local clinic for a minor, Grade I up-gen. Just to tone down the reactionary anger a bit. Maybe a few other tweaks, too.

  56

  * * *

  NIKA’S FLAT

  A data weave sat alone atop the control pane in the library, waiting for her. Nika had known it must exist from the minute she’d learned of the library, and before the OpFlare mission began she’d finally worked up the courage to locate it. Not sufficient courage to read it.

  She held it in her palm, studying it warily, even now not wanting to know its contents as much as she wanted to. But the world had changed, and it was time.

  She curled up on the chaise on the balcony outside, folded her legs beneath her and opened the journal entry.

  Date: Y12,458.094 A7

  Subject: Vanishing Outposts – Moment of Truth

  I’m heading to Mirai Tower tonight, to the Guides’ most secure data vault. It’s where my search for answers has led and the final place where those answers might reside.

  My soul aches with dread of what those answers could be. If the Guides have turned against the people, if they have descended into madness, I will bear a measure of the blame.

  We—the most inner circle of the First Generation—granted them the power they now hold. We entrusted the governance of the Dominion and protection of its citizens to them, because we did not want the responsibility and burden for ourselves. We did it on our own authority and without asking permission from the people; we naively thought we knew best, but I fear this decision will come back to haunt us in blood and death.

  Over the millennia, almost without us noticing, the Guides have expanded their power far in excess of its origins. If I learn the truth behind the outpost disappearances and try to expose the Guides’ misdeeds, I suspect they will try to stop me. I worry they now wield sufficient power to succeed.

  I’ve taken what precautions I can, but what if they’re not enough? I wish I could encrypt more memories. Yet I worry there are already too many to escape detection. I worry they’ll be found in a deep scan, or erased in an exceptional-grade psyche-wipe despite all the protections I’ve layered around them. I’ve hidden the encrypted files deep in my core operating code, then obscured and disguised them. I hope it is enough…and I hope I haven’t protected them so well that I’ll never find them again myself.

  How does one encapsulate a life of aeons in a few files? I’ve tried to choose well, but these memories are little more than a series of snapshots. Moments in time. I’ve included facts—crucial events in the story of my life and the life of the Dominion. But I’ve also included truths—small, intimate memories which speak to who I am.

  I could include 10,000 more, and it still wouldn’t be enough. I’ve been fortunate beyond counting to have lived such a remarkable life, one touched by so many beautiful people. And I want to keep living it, dammit. I want to keep falling asleep in Dashiel’s arms and waking to his smile.

  I won’t go down without a fight for the ages. But if tonight I discover what I fear I will, I have to make it right, even if it costs me everything.

  If the worst comes to pass, I can only hope I’ve created a proper trail of breadcrumbs needed for a future incarnation of myself to find her way back to who I am—was. And if she does find her way back, I hope she looks upon me kindly.

  —Nika Kirumase

  Nika closed the entry and gazed out at the sparkling evening waters of Hataori Harbor as her hand idly caressed the weave. Her heart ached, grieving with the knowledge that the worst had in fact come to pass, and for the loss and pain that had transpired as a result.

  But her heart also sang, because she had found her way back. She was here now, reading this journal with a measure of wisdom its writer hadn’t yet possessed.

  She laughed to herself. “I still say everything would have been so much easier if you had simply included some annotations in the margins of the memories. But…you did okay.”

  MIRAI

  No traces remained of the wreckage from the Mirai One transit hub explosion. The entire city block had been scrubbed clean and the crater at its center filled in and paved over. Construction was set to begin next week on a new transit hub. But for tonight, the space had been transformed.

  Food and drink
vendors along with a variety of party-theme accessory sellers formed a large ring around the area where the hub had once stood. At the north end, a line of temporary d-gates shimmered, providing instant access to similar gatherings on each of the Axis Worlds and easy access to the revelry for those living on the Adjunct worlds.

  It was, much as Maris had proclaimed, a Dominion-wide party.

  Inside the ring of vendors, shimmering bubbles created spheres where musicians belted out all manner of music and floating dance floors gyrated to match the beats. Drones hovered in the air high above everything, casting strobe lights and sparkling graffiti into the crowd below.

  Nika took Dashiel’s hand in hers. “Well, this is definitely lively.”

  “I’m fairly certain that was the idea. No question it’s been a tough month for everyone—longer for some of us. Now, though? People have a reason to celebrate. We all do.”

  She shifted to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “We do.”

  Maris’ voice drifted out from the crowd. “However much power they need, yes! Send me the bill in the morning. But not too early in the morning.”

  Nika craned her neck around to see Maris striding toward them while motioning animatedly to a man struggling to keep up with her. A wave of her hand, and the man nodded and scurried off in the opposite direction.

  Maris rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically as she reached them. “What about ‘a party with no limits’ do these people not understand?”