by Bodicea
He sighed and looked thoughtful. “They are good boys, strong, smart, good-looking.
They’re probably better than the ones I could have sired anyway.” He scratched me behind my ears and went on. “Do you know why she named them Saw and Max? Because those were the names I wanted to use on my own son.” He shook his head.
“It’s like she knew I was coming back, but if she knew that, why didn’t she just wait for me.”
“Did it ever occur to you that she named them Sam and Max precisely because she didn’t believe you were coming back?”
From the look on his face, I knew it hadn’t. Sensing I was winning, he changed tactics. “If I remember anything about your species, the males don’t even care for their own young, and are openly hostile to kittens fathered by other males. Don’t stalking cat males eat the young of other males?”
“First of all, there’s no genetic link between stalking cats and my species, and second, you’re not part of my species. You are morally obligated to raise those whelps.”
“Whelps?”
“You heard me.”
“Fine,” he tightened up on the sensor screen he was showing me. “I think we’ll just catch this before Pegasus leaves transmission range. I programmed the Hammerjacks to do this, I intended it as a memorial.” He brought up the image. “If I had known they were going to live, I’d have programmed something more inspirational like, I don’t know, ‘Aurelia Stinks,’ or
‘Coronado Smells His Own Rectal Emissions.’”
I flicked my tail. “Very mature.”
“Here it comes.”
The satellite showed us a view of the Aurelian word-ship as it passed into daylight in its orbit above Bodicéa. One quadrant of the great sphere had a message carved in it, in characters 400 km long, reading Remember Basil.
“Nice,” I said.
“Za,those Hammerjacks will be wreaking havoc on the world-ship for decades.”
“Until they compromise the core and the whole ship explodes in a supernova.”
“Can’t happen until they leave the system.”
“Okay, so what happens when they get done self-replicating and need a new target, then what.”
“If they haven’t infiltrated the new world-ship already, they will soon.”
“Can they be stopped?”
Miller paused. “Sure, easy, just transmit the shutdown code, or hit them with the anti-jacks.”
“So, there’s no chance that they’ll ever reach the planet or… ha, ha… one of our own ships?”
“Those guys are programmed to attack Aurelian world-ships and destroyers. They have no interest in anything else. If they land on a planet, or on any other ship, they’ll auto-shutdown.
They’re perfectly safe. Nothing can go wrong with them.” CODA
A transit had passed since Pegasus, left. A transit was defined as the time it took Bodicéa’s inner moon to cross the path of the outer moon. This happened every 31 days, the same as the menstrual cycle of Bodicéan women, so it happened.
Tamarind had been in a Holy Trance for three days, and in this time, had come as close as any human could come to conversation with the Creator-Sustainer. Although humanity’s spiritual evolution had paced itself with its physical and intellectual evolution, God was still far and far beyond human comprehension. The Creator-Sustainer had created every atom of matter in the universe and knew the life of every creature on every world around every star.
The psychology and intellect of His Being was too much for any human mind to hold. To know God was to stand on the edge of supernova and know light.
Occasionally, the Creator-Sustainer allowed glimpses of His Being, and these became religions.
Tamarind, bowed in supplication, eyes closed, listened hard into the void, sometimes chanting, sometimes emptying his mind of all distraction. His discipline served him well, but no one could aspire to be God’s messenger. One is chosen, or else one lies.
Tamarind was listening for instructions, as he usually did. He fasted and meditated whenever confronted with difficult choices. This time, however, he was asking something even more important and unlikely from his God. He was asking for forgiveness.
At the appointed hour, Tobias and Chaykil, his most trusted lieutenants, entered his meditation chamber. Chaykil had been a child when the Aurelians invaded. His city had been spared the Decimation. In the fifth year of the reign of Coronado the Aurelian, Chaykil had been taken to the Aurelian Social Engineering Center for his district, and selected for a life of service to the Echelon. His shuttle, however, was ambushed by a flight of Shrieks, returning from a raid on an Aurelian Communication Outpost. It crashed in the deep forest, and only he had survived. He had been taken into to the Defiance, and had grown tall, over two meters, in height, and strong. He had shaved his head in the manner of a Sumacian Initiate, and kept it that way.
Chaykil and Tobias lit the incense, and a sharp odor like cinnamon and sea-salt filled the chamber. Tobias slowly crossed the void, and returned to them. His eyes fluttered open. “It is time,” Tobias reported.
Tamarind nodded and said nothing. The three passed from the meditation chamber and into the night. They passed a few guards along the way, who saluted and bowed before Tamarind. Finally, they came to the tallest and oldest tree in the camp, and began climbing up the side to the observation post in the topmost branches.
The two moons were full that night. The inner moon hung large in the sky, the outer one smaller, 45 degrees to the left and higher; like a pair of mismatched Christmas ornaments. The three of them stared at the moons. There were two watchmen on the tower, but they kept their eyes on the forest.
“Is it safe to watch?” Tobias asked.
“Za,” Tamarind answered. “I am told we do not need to look away.”
Suddenly, there came a brilliant flash on the outer moon. It light up the forest like lightning, and burned a brief after-image into the eyes of Tamarind, Chaykil, and Tobias. The watchmen looked up toward the sky, weapons at ready, in time to see bright yellow incandescent light spread across the surface of the outer moon until it glowed like a light bulb, even brighter than its nearer twin.
“I set up the warhead with a quantum resonance charge,” Miller had explained to Tamarind.
“After destroying the base, the explosion ignited a kind of fusion chain-reaction on the moon’s atmosphere.” If this had been an art experiment, he would have smiled. “I set the moon on fire. It will burn for centuries.”
“How many Aurelians were on the Lunar Base?”
“Eighteen hundred and fifty,” Chaykil answered without emotion.
“Record it in the scribes,” Tamarind ordered. He intended to record every life that was ended in this war.
Tobias broke into a grim smile. “This will inspire millions to our cause. They’ll know that the Defiance is real, that we stood up to Aurelia. They will fight with us, and the burning moon will be our symbol.”
Tamrind sat stoically for a moment. Then, his cheek quivered, he began to snort, and soon was laughing uncontrollably. He had one of those peculiar laughs, laughing on the inhale, producing a sound like a choking goose, but it was a heartfelt belly-laugh. Tears came to his eyes, but finally, he was able to speak.
“For Sumac’s sake, lighten up, Brother Tobias.”
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
