by Jack Colrain
“Or they might just fix the gateway system that they’ve been living on top of all this time, and then come and finish us off.”
“I very much doubt that. But even if they found and accessed another Shaldine data bank, and built a new gate system, they’d lose access to Earth. They would have to build an entirely new gateway near Earth, and it’s not likely we’d allow that. Furthermore, it doesn’t seem that they have faster than light travel capabilities. Even if they could travel at a speed close to that, it would take a very long time for them to get near the Solar system.”
Daniel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Let them live?” he exclaimed. “You know they’ll find a way to get here. They’d always be a threat, and we’d just be kicking the can down the road for our kids to deal with. Fuck that shit, Wilson—let’s just get it done and over.” Why did Wilson always pull this holier-than-thou shit with him? Daniel wondered. Especially when Wilson was wrong. The man just didn’t get it.
“As the Gresian demagogue said...”
Daniel was half out of his seat, fist clenching, before he stopped himself. “Don’t.” He jabbed a threatening finger at Wilson. “Don’t fucking go there. You showed us how the Gresians came to be, right? How they were created as genocidal xenophobes?”
Wilson folded his arms, his lips thinning as he took up a stance that said he wouldn’t be moved. “They were created to protect each other and something went wrong, yes. But they were created as a society, as a people. The Gresians are persons in the same way that human beings are persons.”
“You can say that after what we saw on Lyonesse? After they rampaged through your town—your town, remember—slaughtering civilian colonists.”
Wilson’s face twisted in pain. “Yes. But killing a soldier in the field is one thing; it’s you or him. Even killing a civilian face to face…. The civilian knows it’s coming, might be able to try to run or hide. But killing every member of a race, with a weapon they don’t even know exists, and which they’ll never ever see or understand.... Murder isn’t even the word. Genocide is too tame a fucking word!”
“How about survival? How’s that for a word?” Daniel demanded. “When it’s you or them, as you just said, survival’s a pretty fucking good word. You probably don’t hear it a lot in academic debating societies.
“No, but you learn a lot about ethics. About being better.”
“Survive first, then get better,” Daniel snapped.
Wilson threw up his hands and turned towards the door. Hope was standing there.
“Individuals, races, and species all die out all the time,” Daniel was saying. “Whether by evolution or disease or whatever. A lot of them don’t deserve it, but the Gresians do. How many genocides have they committed? How many does it take before they deserve to be stopped?” He now noticed Hope, as well.
“I could hear you through the door,” she said. “I was beginning to think you might actually be fighting.”
Doug Wilson stepped forward to her. “Perhaps you can help Daniel see the ethical dimension here—”
“No!” She held up both hands, stepping back away from the men. “I’ve lost good friends in this fight, too. And I’ve seen other friends estranged from each other over just this argument.”
“So, you’re taking West’s side, the military side—”
Hope shook her head. “I’m not taking either side. I don’t know if I could personally kill an entire species, but I don’t think I could leave them alone, either. In any case, we are soldiers who have duty and honor, which means we follow legal orders.”
“What if this isn’t a legal order?”
“Who is to decide? There’s no galactic authority, is there? Besides, one thing is definitely true: The Gresians started this fight by attacking Earth,” she pointed out.
Daniel glared at Wilson, both filled with an urge to deck him and repulsed by the idea of being within arm’s length of him. “I think you’d best go, Professor.”
“Yes… I think I had,” Wilson growled, and with that he stomped out, avoiding bumping into Hope by means of surprising grace.
Daniel let out a long breath, which didn’t dispel the anger throbbing in his head and chest. Hope was looking at him flatly, but he only wished he could be so calm. He also wished he’d stayed in a loving mood rather than an angry one. The evening’s plans, he knew, had not survived first contact with the enemy; he knew his mind would go back over the things that pissed him off no matter how much he tried to persuade it otherwise. He also worried that his muscles would twitch at the wrong moment and hurt rather than please Hope, and he didn’t want that.
“You look like you need some time,” she said.
He nodded, and said, “Sorry. That asshole....” He sat down. “You’re probably needing to—”
“Calm down myself, yes. I’m sorry, too, Dan. But it’ll all look better in the morning.” She bent to kiss him on the forehead. “Maybe that will cool something down in there; you’re burning up. I will see you tomorrow, OK?”
“Yeah.”
He watched her go, and then laid back on his bunk. “Shit. What the fuck did that asshole think he was talking about?”
“Don’t ask me,” Lizzie said, appearing in the chair opposite. “Ask me something useful, that’s what I’m here for.”
“Not now,” Daniel said, not wanting to talk to anyone.
“Especially now,” Lizzie said, a sudden and surprising edge in her voice.
Daniel sighed, but it occurred to him that, whatever his connection to the AI was, it was by the AI’s choice, and the AI was the ship’s one true heart. It was entirely possible that he couldn’t get rid of her, but she could easily shut down life support in his cabin if she wanted to. The thought gave him pause, making him wonder just what the AI really wanted out of him. “How did the Mozari first get into this war?” he asked at last.
“Long story, that,” Lizzie said. “When the Mozari first began exploring space, they believed they were the only intelligent, space-faring species in the galaxy. For a while, life was good. They colonized planets and star systems around their home planet, and grew their civilization. It was all pretty cozy, or so I’m given to believe. And then this happened.”
Suddenly, Daniel was in the deep blackness of space. Unlike when he was using a Mozari Library cube computer, only his vision and hearing were affected, and he could still feel the bunk under him, though he could no longer hear the sounds of the ventilation in his cabin.
A rocky moon rose into view, though very different than Earth’s and with great slashes carved in its surface, as if left by some unimaginably vast set of claws. One of the distant stars beyond was growing, and getting brighter, until he saw that it was a small artificial moonlet, octagonal like two pyramids joined at the base. It remained in geosynchronous orbit around this strange moon as a domed Mozari ship approached.
“The Mozari scientists didn’t know what the gate was,” Lizzie said, “but they recognized that it was an artifact of a previous civilization rather than a floating piece of space junk. Then they found a second, smaller gate near their home world.”
Several Mozari scientists were gathered around the gate machine in a lab, which Daniel suspected was aboard the domed ship, so that the gateway mechanism could be studied in situ while covered. The Mozari were bipeds with two arms and one head, but taller than any but the tallest humans, with an exceptionally triangular torso spreading upward from a tiny waist to massive shoulders, all covered in some kind of scales.
The creature’s deep-set eyes gleamed gold, and it had a half-circle of spiky, plastic-like fibers jutting from its forehead. They poked and prodded at the gateway unit with strange instruments while nanites flowed around it, seeking an entrance. “They studied them,” Lizzie continued, “but they had no idea how they worked or what they did. It was a mystery, and they scoured the neighboring star systems for clues.”
Whatever recording Lizzie was showing Daniel cut to a flight over a forested la
ndscape of purplish trees. Daniel was looking down at them from a ship or drone, which was doubly disconcerting because he could still feel himself pressing into the bunk, as if the gravity was suddenly upside-down. A teardrop-shaped Mozari shuttle descended to the surface, and Mozari scientists began to explore the ruins—which seemed to largely consist of the remains of fallen towers. “On a nearby planet, they found what looked like the ruins of a colony. Quantum resonance dating suggested an age of roughly a hundred thousand of your years, give or take a millennium.”
Suddenly, Daniel was back on the domed ship, looking at the gate mechanism. It was beginning to glow, lights playing across it. “The gate woke up?”
“Not just that one, but all the ones the Mozari had found.”
“And a Gresian came through?”
“Let’s not jump to the spoilers,” Lizzie said testily. “A signal started coming through, but the Mozari didn’t recognize it. Eventually, a small ship came through and crashed while trying to land near a Mozari colony. You know the Gresians now, so you can imagine what happened next.”
He had seen this recording before: Spider-like ships made of something like coral, and, behind the arachnid-shaped bodies, four pearlescent petals bloomed, and then the spider-things were peeling away past him, reaching out to grasp him in their claws as the petal-like device tumbled on in a straight line towards a shimmering globe. These rear sections slammed into cities full of Mozari, blasting buildings to dust. Plasma fire from the ships incinerated structures and lifeforms alike, melting everything metal in the streets into lava-like slag.
“The Mozari had weapons, of course, but they weren’t expecting this. Who could? In the first bombardment from space of a Mozari colony, the Gresians killed hundreds of thousands of Mozari civilians and then buggered off back through the gates.”
“What did the Mozari do?” Daniel asked hollowly, ever more sure that the Gresians needed to die.
“First, we, or rather they, created a defensive fleet to blockade the gate. So, the fleet went out and hung around on station at the gate, hoping it would open again. Eventually, it did, and the Mozari were ready. They destroyed several ships and captured one. A few Gresians made it back through the gate. The Mozari eventually analyzed the signals that preceded the gate opening and learned that they were control signals to open and operate the gates.”
“And that’s how the Mozari learned to operate them,” Daniel said.
“It’s easier to just be able to copy your neighbor’s answers, yeah. So, next thing you know, the Mozari used the gateway network to go exploring in armed ships. Occasionally, they ran into the Gresians in space.” In the darkness around Daniel, a Mozari ship, smaller than the Sydney, exchanged fire with a a cathedral-like Gresian cruiser, until eventually the Mozari ship jumped through a gateway.
“So, the Mozari and the Gresians were pretty much in a sort of cold war. Nice and low-key, no more massacres.”
Daniel frowned. “Did the Gresians have technological superiority?”
“Nah, not really. They had access to the gates before we did, but otherwise both sides were technologically in the same ballpark, so a full-on war would likely have been catastrophic for both. The Mozari decided to concentrate on colony-building. They colonized a star system twenty light years from their home world. It did pretty damn well, so they kept going.” Lizzie sounded almost wistful to Daniel’s ears.
“I guess there was plenty of room. Space is big, after all.”
“Very. But while space might be as near to infinite as makes no difference to mere mortals like you, the gateway network isn’t. There are only so many gates.”
Daniel understood immediately; it was the usual reason for warfare in most of human history. “A limited and valuable resource vital to two competing powers.”
“Spot on,” Lizzie said. “The number-one best way to cause conflict tensions to flare up, accept no substitutes. So, that happened, for about fifty of your years. Then the Mozari thought they could try to discuss things. After all, the Gresians were an intelligent, technologically advanced species, so what could go wrong? So, they sent an envoy. The Gresians shot it down.”
Daniel nodded and sat up on his bunk. The cabin was reassuringly around him again now, and Lizzie’s calm expression looked oddly melancholic. “And then the war got hot?” he prompted her.
“For a while, the Mozari tried to stay away from the Gresians. When they met at random, they’d fight, and either side could win some or lose some. So, there was a stalemate for a while. But, yeah, eventually there was a status quo where they’d attack and destroy a Mozari colony, and the Mozari would attack and destroy a Gresian colony…”
“Rinse and repeat?”
“Like a novelty dance,” Lizzie said. “The two sides were actively hunting one another by that point, but here’s the difference between the Mozari and the Gresians. When the Mozari—lovely chaps, though I’m biased, I know—when they colonized a planet, it was one with no indigenous sentient life. When the Mozari destroyed Gresian colonies and towns on Gresian worlds, they usually searched afterwards and often found evidence of other civilizations that had been built over by the Gresians. We learned that the Gresians killed everyone they came across. The Mozari were a shock to them, because it was the first time they’d met a species on their technological level.”
“If this was meant to be a morality talk to make me listen to Doug Wilson, you’re not selling it very well. It just proves the Gresians need to be stopped permanently.” He could feel that thought nestling in his chest, warming him like fine brandy.
“It made the Mozari hate them all the more. Over time, that hatred became so deeply embedded in Mozari culture that it felt almost genetic. It became who they were: a species at war.”
“I can see where they would be coming from,” Daniel said. “Perhaps after their war was over, they probably thought they could become something more.”
“That sounds like Mozari kind of thinking,” Lizzie agreed. “So, while they were at war, they fought. It was the only way to be safe: kill their enemies.”
“Killing your enemies is a good way to be safe,” Daniel agreed. He suddenly closed his mouth and thought about that for a minute, with a sinking feeling. “And you must see where that’d lead, surely?”
Lizzie smiled brightly. “Yes. So do you.”
“Even if they killed off the Gresians, they would always have been going to find new enemies, even if only among themselves. Because nothing in life is ever truly safe.”
Lizzie snapped her fingers. “That’s another part you might want to think about.”
Eight
UES Sydney
Daniel, Hope, and Colonel Barnett had come down to rendezvous on the Sydney’s flight deck. Perhaps because it had now been retrofitted with human technology and furnishings, the Sydney seemed, if anything, even more enormous inside than it had when Daniel had known it only as the Mozari flagship,
“Flight deck” was a slightly misleading phrase, however, Daniel had decided, as the word deck implied a flat, horizontal surface, while the Sydney’s was curved along its length, making him feel as if he stood inside a metallic taco shell. There was more than enough room to launch a couple of dozen shuttles or fighters in one simultaneous wave if need be.
The gigantic hatch that had covered the opening of the mass-driver bay when he’d first visited with hostile intent was now fixed open, with a protective atmospheric field keeping the air inside while letting vehicles through, just like the atmosphere field that had protected the ancient asteroid orbiting Lyonesse.
.Through the faintly sparkling field, Daniel could see a squat, flattened cylinder slide to one side of the view and pause there. He listened and put his senses on alert for the faint sound and tremble of its docking with one of the Sydney’s starboard ports, and could just make out the sensation through the deck under his feet.
“Docking secure,” a voice reported over the PA. “Containment units seven through nine, prepare to
accept transfer lines…”
“Containment?” Daniel queried, looking at Barnett.
“Reactor fuel,” the colonel said with a shrug. “Don’t ask me how it works; it might as well be a bunch of hamsters to run around a big wheel, for all the sense I could make of it.” He chuckled. “There are a couple of naval engineers on board in charge of the power system who would just love to try to tell people about it, but if you take my recommendation, do not engage them in conversation if you value your ability to either stay awake or keep your brain from dribbling out your ears.”
“That bad?” Hope asked.
“And then some.”
A couple of shuttles were sitting off to one side, their hatches open and with twidgets pottering around with maintenance tasks, but there were no fighters like those Hope had flown at Lyonesse on the deck. Either they’d been cleared to hangars and repair bays, or they were outside on some mission or training flight. Most of the flight deck was therefore clear of vehicles, with only scattered naval and aircrew around, as well as some small wheeled tugs.
Barnett led Daniel and Hope towards the far end of the flight deck, where scalloped walls capped off the end, rather than there being a force field. Half a dozen soldiers were waiting there, clustered around a large, black AFV that looked like an upscale M2 Bradley. It was pretty much the same shape as a familiar Bradley AFV, with the same kind of turret mounted on top, but it was longer and larger, and there were no tracks on either side’s row of wheels.
Standing next to the oversized Bradley were two very tall mechanized suits. Their faceplates and chests were open, revealing harnesses for their wearers, and they looked like some kind of mech from a videogame or anime movie.
“We’re being supplied by Tony Stark now?” Daniel asked. “Iron Man as back-up sounds pretty useful.”
“If it means Downey Jr. is coming with us, I’m good with that,” Hope added.
“Don’t make cracks,” Barnett told them, “until you see what these things can do.” He led Daniel and Hope along the flight deck, which was filled with sound, but at least wasn’t deafening. The tap of metal on metal, conversations, and the whine and buzz of power-tool servos were occasionally interrupted by the PA, but that was as far as the noise level went.
