by Matt Thomas
The admiral stared for a long time. Out of the window, Xander saw the Ahai Great Collective fleet as they approached Wanderer.
"What can I tell them, Major, that's going to keep them engaged?"
Xander returned his attention to the senior officers. "Admiral, I would give them the utilitarian argument. It's worse for the Collective if another ship explodes amongst the fleet. I wouldn't go into any detail, but I would suggest to them that they were protecting Operation Aeneas. Protecting the operation helps the Collective get home."
"We're meeting with the Doyen."
That made Xander's eyes go wide. "They must be pretty worked up about it, sir."
He nodded. "They are. What can you tell me about him?"
"Well, sir, I've only met him twice. The first time I just shook hands with him at a meet-and-greet. The second time was in an early planning meeting. He was a S' at the time, but everyone knew where he was going to end up."
"What can you tell me about him that I don’t already know?"
"If he has a choice between definitely helping ten Ahai for certain, or a hundred Ahai maybe, he'd choose to help all Ahai."
The admiral nodded just as Wanderer’s hanger bulkhead replaced the starscape. "Major, you better use your connections to keep this whole thing from falling apart. They weren't big fans to begin with."
Xander's "roger, sir" was drowned by noise of the shuttle door whirring open.
No large procession or escort net the small group of humans. Only S'Vrable. He greeted all four, but only welcoming new Xander by name. The intelligence officer couldn't read the annoyance on the admiral's face.
The Ahai led them through the hanger into the corridors of the Ahai command ship, remaining strangely quiet. Most of the halls were familiar to Xander, but eventually they stepped into a lift, taking them to an upper floor Xander had never visited. With all his familiarity, it was easy for him to forget how large the Hetarek flagship was, easily dwarfing the Columbia. The broad, highly decorated hallways of this new level highlighted how much Xander still didn't know about the Ahai. Displays showed pieces of art and descriptions of culture he had never seen. He tried to keep pace with his superiors, wanting to stop and examine everything. But he wasn't there to sightsee.
S'Maned led him into a large conference room, a huge oval, smoothly carved out of the hull around them so there were no corners anywhere. A table curved out from the dais, like arms reaching around the room. A dozen S'Ahai sat around the table, the gold trim on their purple robes flashing in the perfectly even light. Energy was not spared on this section of the ship.
In the center of the S'Ahai, sat an Ahai of small stature, dressed in muted yellow seen virtually nowhere else in their culture. The Ahai remained passive, but Xander knew that was only a facade. The process to elevation to Doyen took a level of certainty that reflected the whole of the Collective. Once a Doyen died, each level of the Collective hierarchy has to unanimously confirm the name sent to the next level, which had to unanimously agree or return the decision to the lower level. The Council of S'Ahai finally voted on the choice four separate times, each time requiring an unanimous vote to confirm. S'Maned had told Xander that the Collective had gone years without a Doyen following a sudden death.
The Ahai before them, who had given up his name to strip the individuality that would distract him from his duties to the Collective, represented the whole of Ahai wandering through space.
The admiral sat first, followed by his aid and Colonel Tamaka. As Xander sat, the Doyen gave him a nod. "Major."
Xander opened his arms in a rough approximation of the Ahai sign of respect, and took his seat. The admiral gave him a side glance. On top of the discomfort of being summoned to the Doyen was the knowledge that the admiral, with whom he had enjoyed a comfortable working relationship, was irritated with him.
"Our collective is smaller the day than yesterday, because of human distrust." The Doyen began. "Distrust breeds enemies. From the beginning, when our collective encountered yours, we have offered aid to the humans. Our first act was to rescue a human ship. We built a relationship on trust and mutual aid. The Hetarek came, and we trusted you aboard our ships and through our wormholes. For twenty-three of your years, we have relied on each other. This trust has been broken."
The Doyen stopped talking, staring expectantly at the humans halfway down the glossy white table.
"Doyen, we are sorry that you feel this trust is broken. We can only tell you what happened, and we are just soldiers. Perhaps the Free Human Council can best address your concerns."
"A council did not destroy our ship or kill so much of our Collective inside. The military did. They did on your watch." He nodded at the admiral. "And as part of your mission." He looked at Colonel Tamaka. And Xander.
"Surely you can understand that our people felt threatened." The admiral began.
The Doyen stopped him with a hand gesture. "We do not understand."
The admiral began to shift uncomfortably, made more so since he did it in front of his subordinates. "Doyen, we must look out for all our people, and the Ahai. If an individual runs through a security checkpoint, like ones I've seen in this ship, should they not be stopped?"
"We do not believe that they, or anyone else, should be killed."
"The risk was that many more people would be killed. The Hetarek have attacked using friendly ships. Would you really risk wider damage by letting a ship that is headed for the fleet without responding to calls?"
"Yes."
The admiral leaned forward. "Pardon?"
"Yes. I would rather risk that. The Hetarek attack was unfortunate. I would expect another attack to happen. But such an event impacts only those immediately around them. The breach of trust, however, permeates all of us. Every Ahai will be suspicious of every human. If you perceive any of us as enemies, you make all of their s enemies. Your species is new to exile. You do not yet understand how to truly rely on one another. We have no one but ourselves. We are fewer today, certainly, but we are fewer because of this distrust. If you trusted us, we would have more Ahai, certainly, but we would not now be winder by why we should continue our mutual endeavor. Why should we not sever ourselves from this threat you present to us? The pain of being treated so harshly by s friend could be avoided by severing that friendship. We would rather live in isolation than amongst those whom we expect to turn on us whenever they feel apprehension."
"Doyen, we still have much to offer. Our arrangement is in the best interest of everyone. You have no military or significant manufacturing, which we can provide. With your help, we can liberate Earth. Once we've liberated Earth, we will help the Ahai liberate your home world. We can help all Ahai if we overcome obstacles like this one."
The Doyen was unmoved. "Admiral, we have existed amongst the stars and survived without a home much longer than you have. We have done so without militarism, and without stripping more resources than we need. We are not the Hetarek. We are not the Enki. Returning home is not a matter of pride. Our desire to take back the home planet does not stem from revenge against the Hetarek, as it apparently does for you. It is because our people suffer amongst the stars. You consider us a long-lived species. We lived twice as long on our home world. You see us as constrained. We were infinitely productive on our home world. We did not evolve into a multi-planet species. Our attempts to do so led us to a multitude of tragedies. Our resistance to the Hetarek led us to many of those tragedies. They subsided when we agreed to cease active resistance. They resumed when we began to help you. Our assistance started to help you survive, as we have. That assistance for survival somehow became assistance for war."
The admiral glanced over to his fellow humans, as though asking for help.
Xander spoke up. "Doyen, the Hetarek know war, as do we. It is a terrible language but one we both speak very well. The Ahai don't know war, or haven't for generations. Just like the Hetarek physically can't speak our language, our we their l
anguage, circumstances require an intermediary. We can be that intermediary. But we can only do it with your help in liberating Earth. We may be emotionally tied to it, but we are so emotionally tied to it, and so selfish, that we aren't able to help you fully until Earth is freed."
"And if Earth can't be freed?" The Doyen asked. "If the Hetarek continue to occupy your world, or blockade it? Or if the Enki come?"
"We do not give up easily, Doyen." The admiral said.
"That is what we fear." Silence reigned for a few moments until it became incredibly awkward, the Ahai staring at their human guests.
Xander leaned over. "I think they want us to leave." He whispered to Colonel Tamaka. "They don't like to ask people to leave."
The Colonel passed the message to the Admiral.
"Doyen, if you wish, we can excuse ourselves while you discuss the situation further."
"Thank you. We shall only be a few moments, we believe."
The four stepped outside the room, loitering in the hall like children waiting to see the vice principal. Ahai came to bring them water, a refreshing relief in the strange cold humidity of the ship.
"Major, are they really going to cancel the whole operation?" The admiral asked, clearly concerned Xander's answer would be affirmative.
"Sir, I think we need them more than they need us, but they still need us. When they showed up in the Solar System and rescued that stranded ship as an olive branch, they did it because they needed our help to keep being sustainable. They don't have a home, and they don't want any home but theirs. At the very least they won't cut us loose completely."
"I don't want them cutting us loose at all. We have one ship that had a wormhole drive. Columbia. That's it. And it's not nearly powerful enough to get everything we need to Earth. If they don't loan us Wanderer, and they they might not if they don't trust us to protect her, we're as good as stranded." The admiral replied.
Two Ahai reappeared and invited them to rejoin the group. "That was fast." Colonel Tamaka muttered.
They came in and were offered their seats.
"We will continue to support your endeavor, as planned." The Doyen began. "But you no longer enjoy our trust. We will not have our people live in fear of their neighbors. Therefore, the Wanderer will remain here until your mission is complete. The rest of the Great Collective, however, will relocate until this venture is concluded."
Xander's eyes went wide, and he felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. Humans had become parasites, living off the Great Collective since the evacuation. The Council called it symbiotic, but the Ahai could survive as they had without humans. Humans would be stranded.
"Doyen, what about the humans living amongst the Collective?" The admiral asked as calmly as he could.
"They will live amongst you. We shall return the human fleet to the Twins. Once the militarization is ended, we will discuss reintegration."
"Doyen, respectfully, such a significant shift involves far more than the military." The admiral objected. "I would strongly suggest that you discuss this with the Council."
"We shall. But we shall not change our minds.
The admiral opened his mouth to speak again, but the Doyen just stared back, calmly. Dismissively. Colonel Tamaka nudged the admiral gently. They stood and open their arms respectfully. "Thank you for speaking with us." The admiral said before stepping out into the corridor.
"Fuck me."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The fog settled in, filling up the valleys between the mountain ridges. Visibility dropped to near-nothing, and Bryan could only see the approaching vehicles with the aid of infrared. Once they turned off of the main highway, they went into blackout conditions, each vehicle feeling its way down a long-neglected surface road winding past empty farms and dilapidated mountain cabins.
Their cohort of freedom fighters continued to grow. Each time they introduced themselves to a new village, they commandeered a new truck and a distributed few weapons. The Metic Ahai had proved to be a significant bonus. The freedom their overseers permitted them meant they had greater freedom of movement and rarely got caught on the assignments handed them. When they encountered any Metic Ahai on their operations, having one of their own always meant at either another recruit, or at least, freer passage. The Ahai drive to find out more about their kind and connect with the Great Collective floating through space intrigued them. Like the humans who adorned their motley outfits with various symbols from Earth before the occupation, several Metic Ahai had even adopted the symbol of the Great Convoy, the cloud of fourteen evenly distributed rectangles.
What had once been six our eight humans meeting the team in a shed became a much larger undertaking, one more difficult to conceal. They began meeting in the mountains, finding draws between slopes or hidden canyons, near enough a main route but in isolated spots more difficult to notice.
The mission of the night was to gather more material support from the “Wild Humans,” as Bryan had taken to calling them. Small clusters of people living too remotely for the Hetarek to be bothered, mostly in the mountains living off the land themselves, maintained their independence. Bryan liked the missions because there was little chance of enemy contact, unless the farmers themselves began shooting at them. That had only happened twice, though, and not nearly with the vigor of the Hetarek patrols down in the valley or on the other side of the mountains. Their rendezvous point was behind an old barn, surrounded by rotting carcasses of old vehicles, most rusted nearly beyond recognition. The team itself was small, just Bryan, O, Kearney, Taylor, and Perkins. The rest of the manpower came from the six Metic Ahai and ten humans who had shown up over the previous two hours.
Bryan checked his watch as he leaned against the truck. They would need to set out in the next few minutes if they were to make it to the farm shortly after dawn. Theoretically, another truck of Metic Ahai should have arrived.
“What do you want to do?” Perkins asked. “We probably shouldn’t sit out here until the sun comes up.”
Bryan scanned around. The humans stood around the bed of one of the trucks, their mismatched weapons hanging over their shoulders or leaning up against the vehicle. The Metic Ahai stood apart, five of them talking softly in their own language, their weapons left in one truck where another sat by himself. Taylor continued his role as trainer, moving from group to group, while the others operators loitered around their own vehicle. The hair on the back of Bryan’s neck began to stand, his heart began to beat a bit faster, and his breathing became deeper. He took another look around him, once at ground level and again staring into the hills.
“What’s up?” Perkins noticed his leader had tensed up subconsciously.
Bryan shook his head, but not the feeling in the pit of his stomach. His hand went from resting on his weapon to gripping it. “I’m not sure, I just got that feeling...”
Perkins began scanning himself. “Now that you mention it, me too... what did we see?”
“I don’t know.” He struck the hood of the truck twice to get the team’s attention. “Hey guys, look lively. Something may be up.” The professionals instinctively checked their armor and weapons. He looked around again, and the feeling grew even worse. “Screw it. Let’s get ready to roll.”
“What about the other four?” Perkins asked.
“They must not be coming. Held up or something.”
He looked across the small clearing at Taylor, still talking to the humans. Rather than call out, and risking the voice echoing through the valley, Bryan keyed his headset. “Taylor, let’s get them ready to go.”
“Roger. Let me tell the Metic Ahai and I’ll be right over. We’re only taking five Ahai?”
“Six, there’s one in the truck. I’m not waiting around for the other vehicle.”
“Copy.”
“O, does Loki have anything?”
The radioman checked his display and made a brief radio call. “Negative. Nothing but us for about two clicks.”
“Okay. Better safe than sorry. As soon as Taylor gets over here let’s roll.”
He looked back for Taylor. The humans were grabbing weapons, getting ready to mount up. The Metic Ahai remained parked apart, watching Taylor approach. He got within a five meters of them, right to where the first truck was parked. The Metic Ahai took a few steps back. The rear door of a vehicle opened, and the sixth Metic Ahai spilled out. He had an ancient shotgun in his hands. He didn’t bring it to his shoulder, as Taylor had instructed them before. He started firing from the hip, now only two meters away from Taylor. The first blast caught the Green Beret full in the side of the head. It tore off Taylor’s helmet and took a substantial portion of his skull and face with it. His jaw tore asunder from the impact. The force tipped him over so that he fell onto his side.
The Ahai twisted quickly, pumping off a shot in the direction of the other Free Humans. Bryan felt something burn on his forearm as sound of dozens of lead balls bounced off the side of the truck behind him. Kearney let out a curse from the cab of the truck.
The shooter turned towards the local humans, walking towards them, firing round after round. Bryan saw two of them fall backward as he started running at the shooter, bringing his rifle up. Beside him, Perkins, in a smooth, well-practiced motion, drew his pistol from his drop holster and started firing even as he shoved the weapon out in front of him. The second, third, fourth, and fifth rounds all struck their target before he completely collapsed, and before Bryan even switched off his safety. The other Metic Ahai backed away from the shooter, except for one who ran towards him as he fell. Without hesitation, Bryan pumped two rounds in to the second Metic Ahai.
“Get the fuck down! All of you get the fuck down!” The remaining four dropped to the ground with their long arms stretched out in the universal sign of surrender before Bryan could complete his next trigger-pull. Perkins ran up to the shooter’s body, kicked away the shotgun, and stepped on the alien’s chest to make sure he was down and dead. Before Bryan could call for them, both Kearney and O ran forward.
