by Bodicea
“The house of Ciel, za.” There was a brass mallet attached to a chain by the gate. Tamarin lifted it and tapped the metal plate beside the door. It rang out musically.
Miller looked at the row of houses. They were large, solidly built and well-maintained. All were painted white, with slate-gray roofs, and built almost against each other, with spaces in-between barely large enough to accommodate the shoulders of a man of medium build.
Otherwise, everything around them spoke of a prosperity that had been in place for a very long time.
“You don’t suppose the enlightened egalitarian rulers of this planet rotate the less fortunate into their fine houses every few years?” Miller asked. Tamarind smiled politely and shook his head.
The gate parted slightly and a pair of pale blue eyes peered out at them through the painted white rails. “Hello.”
“Are you Tobias?”
The man opened the gate a bit wider. “Yes, you must be from the Pegasus. ” Miller and Tamarind looked at each other. So much for being incognito. “How could you tell?”
“Men, walking around unaccompanied, you can’t be from this planet. What do you want?” Tobias voice was cheerful, with an almost sing-song lilt to it.
“May we come inside?”
“Ciel is not here.”
“We have not come to see Ciel, we have come to see you.”
Tobias’s eyes shifted back and forth from Miller to Tamarind, studying them. Finally, he unlatched the gate and bade them enter. He was dressed in a white satin robe with small blue designs on it. The small yard in front of Ciel’s house was exquisitely landscaped. Two elegant trees, whose bark was white, whose trunks were gnarled, whose branches seemed to braid around each other, framed either side of a stone pathway. Sprays of green and gold leaves fanned from the branches. The house was stark white, tall and narrow, four stories in height with a portico on the lowest level and verandahs on the second and third. It looked ancient, but well-kept. Tobias led them to the front door, but held them there. “Wait here.” Tobias disappeared inside. Miller and Tamarind waited. A few minutes later, he returned.
“All right, you may come in now.”
The inside of the house was filled with expensive-looking things. Every couch and chair was upholstered with sumptuous materials featuring elaborate designs. The walls and ceilings were wood painted white. Tobias offered them seats around a table, and laid out an arrangement of cups and serving vessels. He poured liquids from two of the vessels into three of the cups. “To what do I owe this honor?” he asked.
Miller went straight to the point, “On the Isle of Mab, you said something to one of our people. You related a legend about the Commonwealth returning to the planet.”
“To put our society back in order after centuries of oppression under the Soroarchy,” Tobias said, offering each of them a black and white cookie on a porcelain serving tray.
Miller took the cookie. “We were curious about that aspect of the story.”
“You think I was referring to the aliens Ciel went to meet,” Tobias finished for him.
“We don’t know,” Tamarind admitted. “We would like you to provide details about the legend, so that we can see if there are any parallels to things that are happening.”
Tobias’s eyebrows arched, “I don’t really know what I can tell you, it’s just an old story.
Probably just a fairy-tale.”
“It may be coming true,” Miller countered, darkly. “But in a terrible way, because these aliens are monsters. We believe they destroyed all the life forms on the Planet Medea, they are coming to destroy you.” He withdrew a pad from his pack and handed it to Tobias. When activated, it catalogued the atrocities on that planet and ended with pictures of the alien body recovered there, and an image of the alien Miller and Ng had discovered on the ship.
“Scary,” Tobias sang, he shivered and wrapped his robe more tightly around him.
“All we want to know is what specifically does the legend refer to, and how long has it been circulated?” Miller asked.
Tobias wore a pensive expression. “I thought you might be coming to help the men of this planet, but apparently I was wrong. I don’t why you would want to take the story so seriously at this point.”
Tamarind fixed Tobias in a firm but gentle stare. “People living in submission sometimes make up stories about saviors coming down and liberating them from their oppressors.
Another thing that people who live in submission do is to form opposition cells. They make plans, they exchange information, try to plan for a day when they can end their submission, bring their own liberation. If they are very lucky, those in submission, one of their number manages to infiltrate the highest levels of government, becomes a confidante of planetary leadership.”
Tobias reached for a glass and knocked it over, sending streamers of orange and blue liquid across the table. He began swabbing it up with a napkin, sparing Tarmarind a wide-eyed glance.
Tamarind continued, “The last thing a man in such a dangerous position would ever risk is betraying his comrades to those who hold them in submission.”
Miller took this in. Was this telepathy or beast-shitting. It was said that Sumacian warriors knew how to hypnotize an enemy with the sound of their voice, knew a technique for establishing a rhythmic cadence, could seek out the words in a persons mind, draw out the keys to the mind, like a locked box with secrets inside.
Tamarind’s voice kept on steady, calm, almost mesmerizing. “Submission is a terrible state for a man to live in, but you have to trust us, these aliens are not your liberators.”
Tobias threw his hands in the air. “How am I supposed to know any of this? I am just a man. I was never educated in politics or… or space. They don’t let us learn anything, here.” Tamarind looked up, a bright expression on his face, as though the key had been delivered to him. “I’ll make you a bargain. Help us now, and when Pegasus leaves, you can come with us.”
“You can do that?” Tobias whispered skeptically.
“We have done it before,” Miller said, trying to sound casual while feeling like his mind was drizzling through the base of his skull. A few more minutes, and he would have told Tamarind the information.
Tobias rubbed his temples. “The man you need to speak to is called Corbiya, but he lives in the Compound.”
“The Compound?”
“It’s where the men are kept, near the center of the city, not the exact center, but deep enough inside that no man could flee it without crossing passing thousands of women’s homes, any one of whom could alert the Monitors.”
“But not you.”
“I have even less freedom than one of the shared men who live there.” Tobias sighed. “I am Ciel’s consort. As the leader of Inner Circle, she is permitted some deviancy from established convention. Her enemies, however, regard me as a political liability. She has rejected the communal circle, she lives alone, with me, and raises her daughter alone. It is a scandal.”
“I believe I know the place of which you speak,” Tamarind said. “It is just west of the center of the city, a walled compound of nineteen buildings, blue-white in color, with roofs that curve downward to the ground.”
“You’ll never make it there,” Tobias ensured them. “It is illegal for men to walk through the streets unaccompanied.”
“I’ve got that covered,” Miller said, tapping his wrist. “Miller to Jones.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” came a girl’s voice. Miller and Tobias turned to see Pieta, watching over them from the bridge that overlooked the room and served as the house kitchen.
“Pieta,” said Tobias, a weak admonishment. She descended, chin held high.
“I could have you arrested,” said the little girl. “And I will, if you so much as pass through that door.”
She stood before them, only a child, yet possessed of a measure of arrogance, of haughtiness as though the world were hers, had been and always would be, and no one would dare tell her ot
herwise.
“Then we shall leave,” Tamarind said, rising. Miller found himself rising involuntarily with him, as did Tobias. Tamarind had that effect on people, the same way a moon has an effect on an ocean.
Pieta held her chin up. “Don’t go. I heard everything. You men can not walk through the streets unless a woman goes with you, but I’ll escort you, if you’ll do something for me.” Tamarind knelt before her and took her hand. “All right, Pieta. What can I offer you in return for your escort?”
Pieta knew exactly what she wanted. “I want Lt. David Alkema.” Tamarind looked deeply into her eyes. “If you promise to take us to The Compound, I promise Lt. Alkema will come back and visit you… just you and he. You can do … anything you’d like to do.”
Pieta smiled, she was radiant, incandescent with joy.
“We’ll be making a low speed launch,” Captain Wang announced. “You may make yourselves comfortable, but there is no need to secure yourselves. Low-speed launch. I am awaiting clearance from Aurelian Flight Control.”
Lear reached across the landing couch to Ciel. “I know you must be alarmed, but I swear to you, we will do everything in our power to protect your people.”
“Protect us from what?” Ciel asked, in her tone, a midst of defensiveness and puzzlement.
“From the Aurelians,” Lear answered. “We will not let them attack your planet. We will stand with you.”
“Take our planet? What makes you think they’re going to attack your planet.” Lear blinked. “Didn’t you pick up her thoughts? She was thinking about ruination, about bombing your planet from orbit.”
Ciel fixed her with an incredulous stare. “How could you know what she was thinking?”
“You remember my people are somewhat telepathic.”
“You said that was only with family and close acquaintances.”
“Among us, but his mind was very powerful. I could see exactly what he was thinking.”
“Who?”
“Coronado.”
“Coronado was a woman.”
Lear checked herself. Coronado was a woman of course, what an odd mistake. “Ciel, listen to me. Coronado is planning an attack on your world. Even if you couldn’t see the images in her mind, or the sound of explosions, you must have felt… you must have sensed her contempt for us, her desire to claim your world, her hunger for conquest, her anticipation…”
“I saw nothing but a woman, far more wise, far more benevolent than either of us.” Ciel looked downright cross, now.
Another member of the circle leaned over from the couch across the aisle. “Perhaps they feel threatened by Coronado,” she suggested. “She is a very strong woman, far stronger than they are.”
“I thought she was marvelous,” gushed a third woman. “I know how I will vote on the treaty.”
They are not telepathic, Lear thought to herself. They believe Coronado. She wants to devour them whole. They can’t sense it.
“Launch thrusters to fire in ninety seconds. Secure yourselves.”
The Aves pulled away from the Aurelian landing dock. It rose and banked toward the inner edge of the sphere, leaving behind the elaborate, artificial world of the inner-sphere. It navigated through an exit channel and emerged in space. Hector emerged from an adjacent exit channel and joined Winnie. Kicking their gravity engines to full power, the two ships rose above the plane described by the fleet of alien ships and drove into the night, back toward Pegasus.
Keeler paced the forward conference room. This little trip had not turned out as he had expected. He had expected to be dead, so, on that score, it had turned out better than anticipated. When he had set out, he had been commander of one of the nine most powerful ships in the galaxy. Now, he was facing an enemy who built veritable worlds in space and were about to lay waste to a beautiful world that he did not like very much, but felt honor-bound to protect. How far would he go, and how much would he risk, to carry out that duty.
While Keeler ruminated, Ciel slept in the back of the ship. She had rejected the notion of using a sleeper as unnatural. Someone had found some blankets and reclined a landing couch to full horizontal. Her snoring, a horrible and grating sound, would have carried almost to the forward cabin had not Commander Keeler ordered Lt. Alkema to seal the emergency decompression hatch. Alkema now sat in the Command Module, receiving a piloting lesson from Captain Wang.
After bedding down the First Advocate, Goneril Lear came forward to join him, and to inform him that Partridge was tending to the personnel from the Hector. They were tired, for the hour was late. Their heads throbbed with a sore pain that none of the analgesics prescribed by Med. Tech. Partridge seemed to allay. She suggested they set up a conference with Honeywell to discuss the tactical situation, and Keeler called Alkema down to join them.
Honeywell provided them with a technical report on Hector. “The logs show that there were repeated attempts to access the central braincore. None were successful. The core data is intact.”
“Current status?”
” Hector is maintaining pace with the other Aves. We should be back at Pegasus in another 28 hours.”
“Thank you, lieutenant. I think I can guess what’s on everyone’s mind, The Aurelians are going to destroy these people,” Keeler said, “and they don’t know it.”
“What can we do about it?” Lear asked. “Do we have the firepower to stop them?”
“Did you read Lt. Cmdr. Miller’s tactical assessment?” Keeler asked. He had the data projected before him. “With Hammerhead missiles and tactical Shriek and Aves deployment, we could destroy 80% of the Aurelian fleet, but Miller did not know about the World-Ship.”
“One Nemesis warhead at 40% yield could take it out,” Lear answered him.
“And kill one billion people,” Keeler shook his head. The display of the sphere was still activated, and hung in the air at one side of the table.
“There are two billion people on Bodicéa. We have to have that option open.”
“It’s not necessarily viable,” Alkema offered, as he tapped out some calculations. “The World-ship has over 500,000 times the mass of Pegasus. Therefore, it must have an energy-source at least 500,000 times more powerful than our QPG’s. Coronado said the power source of the world-ship is a kind of white hole, which, if she is making a kind of simplistic analogy, is like a slow-motion supernova that disgorges large amounts of energy in a sustained way. If that’s true, it must be kept in some kind of containment system. One nemesis bomb could destroy the containment for that system. If that happens, the energy would all be released at once, and if it’s as much energy as I think it is, it would be like setting off a full-blown supernova.”
They all knew what this meant, but only Lear found the need to say it out loud. “The entire system would be ripped apart.”
Keeler was impressed with the young lieutenant’s analysis. “I’ll tell Lt. Cmdr. Miller he has a protege,” he said, drily.
“It wouldn’t have to come that,” Honeywell put in on the commlink, a second’s delay later. “Based on our preliminary scans, the world ship does not have an offensive capacity. If we destroy the assault ships, the Aurelians would not be able to mount an onslaught on Bodicéa.”
“We have only seen a small part of the world-ship,” Lear corrected. “It may have a larger offensive capacity that we estimated.”
“The Echelon don’t strike me as the type to dirty their hands with weapons,” Keeler put in.
He brought up another display. “Lt. Miller’s report forecasts a fifty to sixty percent depletion of Pegasus’s conventional armaments if we engage the Aurelian fleet… with no re-supply for three years. If we ran across the Aurelians again, we would have no choice but to run.” He leaned back in his chair.
“Or use the Nemesis weapons,” Lear’s face was etched with lines of concentration. “If the Bodicéans asked for our assistance, we would give it to them without hesitation. Can we agree to that?”
“I think we can,” Keeler agreed, “bu
t I don’t think they will. They think the Aurelians are as peaceful as they present themselves to be. They can’t read minds. It’s unfortunate that Odyssey Project Training never dealt with how to deal with a race of genetically superior humans who let you eat off their bare breasts or how to deal with a planet of pacifists who don’t recognized their imminent annihilation at the hands of the aforementioned… aliens”
“The question is: do we have the right to interfere on their behalf, acting on knowledge only we possess?” Lear asked.
“Of course we have the right,” Keeler said. “’ Should we’ is an easy question to answer, ‘could we’ is a question we can reasonably answer. It’s when they both gang up on us at once that the issue is hard.”
“A battle with the Aurelians would not endear us to the Bodicéans,” Lear answered. “In all likelihood, they would be even more suspicious, and unwilling to have relations with us.”
“At least, they would be alive to be mad at us.” Keeler tapped his fingers on the top of the table.
“Why do they want to conquer the Bodicéans?” Honeywell asked. “Why did they destroy Medea? What’s the motivation.”
As he asked, Alkema suddenly realized that if the Aurelians conquered Bodicéa, the little girl named Pieta would either die or be made into one of those hand-maidens, running around naked and engaging in intercourse with hundreds or thousands of men before she even left adolescence. The thought sickened and horrified him.
Lear answered Honeywell. “’We don’t need to conquer worlds,’ Coronado had said. ‘We build our own.’ There must be something they need on those worlds. I refuse to believe they would blow up worlds for entertainment.”
“Sometimes, small children kick over insect mounds,” Keeler told her. “A throwback to our more violent past. I got a very strong feeling of contempt and disgust from Coronado, from the rest of the Aurelians, too. Perhaps, they do look on humans as insects to be played with, and casually destroyed.”
Keeler sighed and began rambling, tiredly. “The first three worlds we have visited have been, respectively, invaded, barbaric, and ruined. This world retained some semblance of human civilization. It was largely intact. It may not have been what we liked, but it gave us hope that humanity as we knew it had survived the Great Silence.
